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an-angels-fury · 4 months

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Two Men in Love

Hey people! Guess who came back with a fresh new Caspeter fanfic?! 😘

A big thanks for @eds-gryff for making 👉 THIS AMAZING, BEAUTIFUL VIDEO 👈 that inspired me to write this piece (that with some luck will receive like... 5 notes or something like that).

I'm really considering to start posting my fics on AO3. Who knows...

Anyway, good reading! 🫶

P.S.: A friendly reminder that English is not my first language, so don't fuck me up, okay?

P.S. 2: The fic's title comes from the song of same name by "The Irrepressibles" (THIS IS THE CASPETER ANTHEM I WON'T ACCEPT CRITICISM! 👌)

P.S. 3: The photos and quotes used on the aesthetic were all found on Pinterest, but the edit was made BY ME. DON'T FUCKING REPOST IT!!! 😡

The afternoon sun was already reaching its peak when Peter took the same usual route back home. He had left early in the morning to travel the long distance to the small village where he cared for his patients. The start of the day had been peaceful and, luckily, no particularly serious medical cases had to be dealt with, just minor incidents such as a 7-year-old girl with a broken ankle after falling from a tree, a lumberjack with a dislocated shoulder and an old fisherman who had some difficulty breathing - a problem definitely related to his advanced age and his addiction to smoking. Unfortunately, no matter how many times Peter warned him about the consequences of excessive cigarette use, it was a harmful habit that the old, stubborn man was not willing to give up.

The doctor was climbing the hill, coat and suitcase in each hand, admiring the green, undulating mounds that decorated the landscape that was beginning to form before his eyes. He couldn't imagine choosing a better place to spend the rest of his life - well, actually there was another place, but it was the only place he already knew he could never return to. For a moment, Peter found himself downcast, the weight of melancholy taking over his chest. It was a feeling he was already familiar with, although it became less constant with each passing year. A king could leave Narnia, but Narnia would never leave him as long as he lived. He was absolutely sure of that.

A loud noise woke him from his cloud of thoughts, and suddenly the bittersweet feeling in his heart disappeared. A dog with yellow fur and big ears came running towards him, barking at the top of his lungs, and the blond man didn't hesitate to drop his things and opened his arms to welcome him. When he least noticed, Peter found himself flung to the ground, laughing like a child as the animal on top of him licked his face, wagging the tail happily. When the dog calmed down from his euphoric state and allowed the poor man to recover, Peter sat down on the grass and scratched the animal's head right behind the ears - exactly in his favorite spot.

- I missed you too, big boy - he said with a big smile on his face.

That sweet moment was interrupted by a whistle coming from not far away. The dog turned his head and remained quiet for a moment, just looking towards the supposed place where the sound had come from. Soon after, a man's voice was heard, calling him by the name. Peter would recognize that beautiful voice from any corner of the world.

- Rhidon!

The animal didn't blink before barking and running away again. Without rushing, Peter got up and walked a few more meters until he finally saw the small cottage that, a few years ago, had become his new home. In front of the door, there was a very happy Caspian carrying Rhidon in his arms as if he were a giant baby. Peter couldn't help but laugh at such an adorable scene. The dark-haired man smiled back at him and made room for him to come in.

- I hope you're hungry. - Caspian said.

- Starving. - Peter joked.

The smell of fresh bread coming from the kitchen reached his nostrils, which quickly remind him that there were still some sweets and baked goods left in the special basket the baker's wife had given him in thanks for taking care of their sick son. Peter sat down at the table and allowed Caspian to serve him.

- Bon appétit. - Caspian placed the plate in front of his companion and leaned over to give him a little smootch.

The young telmarine had no cooking skills when he arrived in England, which was expected of a prince who spent most of his life being served by others around him. Fortunately, because he was a curious person and fascinated with everything that was different and unknown to him - one of the many reasons why Peter had fallen in love with him -, Caspian was quite willing to learn, especially having Susan and Lucy to help him. Although neither of the two boys were masters in the art of cooking, they loved creating new recipes and dishes whenever they had the opportunity. It was one of their favorite pastimes.

The cottage in which they lived was a simple but no less charming place. The walls were painted a beige tone and the windows were adorned with white shutters and small pots of wildflowers outside. It was possible to hear the slight creaking of the boards when walking on the wooden floor, but this was never considered a nuisance for any of the residents - on the contrary, it was considered a relaxing and even inviting sound for both. In the living room, there was a couch and an old armchair where the boys usually sat at the end of the day to relax in front of the cozy heat of the fireplace.

The location of the house couldn't be more perfect either. The cottage was built in a rural area, surrounded by nature and relatively far from any sign of human life. On the other hand, the place still had a considerable distance between the village where Peter always worked - and where he and Caspian went twice a week to buy the supplies and food necessary for their daily lives - and Professor Kirke's mansion, who had become a great friend, confidant and tutor for the two young people since their last adventure in Narnia. He was responsible for helping the Pevensie siblings teach Caspian everything about their reality - he still remembered fondly from time to time of the prince's shocked expression after finding out they all lived in a round world! -, as well as being Peter's greatest guide during his journey to build his career in medicine. The couple made frequent visits to the master's house, where they also met up with Lucy and Edmund - and sometimes Susan as well - to spend the afternoon drinking tea with cookies, telling stories and even plotting little pranks to make fun of the Professor’s poor housekeeper Mrs. McCready, who had already grown new strands of gray hair since the last time they were there. Sometimes it was as if they had never stopped being children.

But the best part of it all was that Peter and Caspian no longer had to worry about hiding their love. They could court, exchange passionate kisses, walk across the field hand in hand, rest their heads on each other's shoulders, lie embraced in the meadow in the sunlight. They were free to express all the affection and intimacy that other lovers shared when were together.

The two sat at the table without saying a word for most of the meal, just exchanging shy smiles and affectionate looks. Even after all these years, they still felt and acted like two teenagers in love.

- And you? Aren't you going to eat? - Peter asked, noticing that Caspian hadn't picked up a plate for himself.

- I had already eaten before you arrived. - Caspian explained - You came back early today. How was your afternoon, doctor?

The blond one smiled at the other man's playful tone and moved his hand towards his, interlacing their fingers. From there, Peter began to tell a little about the patients he had seen that day. The two continued talking for a while until, a few minutes later, they got up and went to the couch in the living room. Peter decided to take a new book from the shelf to start reading - one of those lent by Professor Kirke -, while Caspian allowed him to lie down on his lap and just stayed there, running his fingers through his lover's golden hair and carefully watching the change in his expressions as he flip through the pages of the book in his hands.

Caspian recalled that one of the things that surprised him most when meeting Peter was seeing with his own eyes who the man behind the legend was. From idealization to disappointment to acceptance and, finally, to love, he reached a point where he realized that Peter Pevensie - the flawed, vulnerable being who was willing to carry all the burdens of the world alone for the protection of those he loved most, even that this meant putting his own pain aside and suffering in silence - was much more fascinating than the heroic and majestic figure of "The High King Peter the Magnificent'' that he had learned to adore and idolize since he was a child. He felt honored to be one of the few people to know details—intimate secrets—that couldn't be found in any dusty old history book: like the way Peter's shoulders relaxed when he lay awake at night, incapable of surrendering to sleep, sitting against the window frame watching the stars; the unique and special glow that lit up in his smile whenever Lucy was with him; all the wonderful sounds that escaped his mouth when Caspian touched and kissed him in all the right places every time they made love.

Every touch, every gesture, every perfect imperfection made Peter, his husband - perhaps not officially recognized by the law of men, or even in the eyes of God, but real to them and their dear ones - the extraordinary man he loved so so much. And Caspian hoped he had the rest of their lives to show him that.

After a while, Peter got tired of reading and, in one quick movement, closed the cover of the book and sat down. Curious, Caspian remained quiet, looking at the other man, who soon spoke with a voice full of enthusiasm:

- Let's go outside!

Before he had a chance to react, Peter was already pulling him off the couch and guiding him to the front door. It didn't take a second for Rhidon, who was previously asleep on the floor, to wake up to his owners' excitement and quickly follow them. The three of them ran out into the open air, their messy hair flying in the wind and barefoot, feeling the earth, the fallen leaves and the dew on the green grass under the soles of their feet. At that moment, they were not gentlemen of English society, nor soldiers rebuilding their lives in a chaotic world ravaged by war, much less kings of a land full of talking animals and magical creatures. They were just two happy, carefree boys with indomitable spirits and fire in their hearts. They knew they had everything they needed.

When they were both exhausted and out of breath, Peter and Caspian lay down together and watched the way the setting sun painted the sky in strong shades of orange, pink and red. Well, just Caspian, actually. Peter had all his attention focused on the young telmarine's face. The former prince's beauty never went unnoticed in his eyes, even at a time when he still believed to despise him with every fiber of his being. Honestly, the fact that the High King felt so captivated by those piercing black pupils, that tanned skin, those long dark locks that fell over Caspian's broad shoulders in beautiful waves only served to make him even more annoyed with the other’s mere presence.

Not that this was the first time a man had made Peter feel this way. Apparently, romantic relationships between people of the same gender had always been seen as something natural in Narnia, which surprised him at first, considering the fact that he was raised in a world where such an attitude was seen as something abnormal and, at worst, a crime. He remembered the few occasions he had got the attention of some members of the court and messengers from neighboring kingdoms during his and his siblings' reign. There were times when he corresponded and even took the attraction game further. But none of his suitors had ever made Peter feel what he felt when he was with Caspian. And at first, it terrified him. It did because, even after so many years, he still heard voices whispering in his mind, calling him cursed names.

Sick. Unclean. Aberration. Sinner.

But with Caspian, something changed. Those aggressive words began to lose their force. All it took was the sweetness of his smile or hearing him call Peter’s name and suddenly, all the noise inside him was reduced to the purest silence. Now, he could hold Caspian's hand without feeling dirty. He could say "I love you" in its truest meaning without feeling the weight of guilt taking over his heart. He finally allowed himself to feel pleasure, not shame, in being hugged, kissed, touched and, above all, loved by his partner.

You love him and he loves you. You are happy. You are not hurting anyone. There is nothing wrong with that.

You are not broken. You don't need fixing.

Peter stayed like this, lying on the taller man's shoulder, admiring the calm and dreamy expression on his face.

- That's what I love most. - Caspian broke the silence, his voice calm.

- What?

- Moments like this, where we can be alone. Just you and me.

And then came the smile. That damn stupid, charming smile that always made a warm blush rise to his cheeks. And there was only one thing Peter could - and desperately needed - to do about it. He propped himself up on both elbows, held Caspian's face between his hands and pressed his lips against his, giving him a long, slow, fervent kiss.

That's what made Caspian so beautiful, the blond man told himself: it wasn't just his physical beauty, but all the color and beauty he brought to Peter's world. And he had no words to describe the extent of his gratitude for having this wonderful human being by his side.

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The night was calm. The only sounds in the room were the continuous music playing on the radio station and a gentle breeze that blew against the glass of the closed windows. Even after they had already eaten dinner, Peter returned to sit at the table in the kitchen to pay attention to issues related to his work. He was analyzing some notes he had written over the last few weeks related to the project of a new clinic. For a long time, Peter saw medicine as a chance to wash his soul of all the blood he had shed in his former existence, to use his hands to heal and save lives instead of taking them. He wanted to prove to himself that he could be much more than a weapon, an instrument for violence and death. And in the end, he succeeded. But he wanted it to be just the beginning of an even bigger plan.

The young man was so deep in his thoughts that he almost jumped out of his chair when he heard the clinking of the saucer being placed on the table. Peter soon felt the hot steam from the teacup being blown into his face.

- To keep you awake. - Caspian's gentle voice reached his ears.

- I'm not that tired. - Peter replied without looking up from the papers - You know, you don't need to pamper me all the time. I'm already grown up.

Caspian just snorted at his husband's typical petulance. It was a silly behavior he was already quite used to.

- But that's how our relationship works: you take care of everyone. And I - he paused his sentence to approach and kiss Peter's left cheek and only then completed - I take care of you. So, accept this at once and stop complaining.

All Peter did was roll his eyes and simply accept his lover's affectionate gesture.

- Thank you. - Peter said, this time in a more delicate and less irritated tone. In return, Caspian held one of his hands and placed a kiss on his fingers, letting his lips take time to caress that pale, soft skin. When that contact finally ceased, the telmarine was taken by surprise when he noticed the way the man sitting in front of him stared back at him, following his every slightest movement, without ever looking away.

Peter's eyes were the first thing that caught Caspian's attention when they met. Those blue eyes, deep and clear as the ocean, sometimes calm and peaceful, sometimes restless and stormy, where giant waves crashed and broke against each other. Caspian always felt like he found a new adventure every time he looked into those eyes, a new secret to be revealed, a new dark corner to be found, an infinite number of possibilities and mysteries that would be impossible to discover in a single life. Even those who called themselves the bravest explorers would be intimidated by the sight of those turbulent and unpredictable waters, but Caspian wasn't one of them. He came from a long lineage of pirates, the daring and danger of the seas ran through his veins. He was not afraid of drowning - in fact, he gladly embraced this possibility.

Suddenly, a slow, romantic ballad started playing on the radio, waking the two lovers from their frenzy - or maybe it was just carrying them into a new dream.

- Would you give me the privilege of follow me in this dance? - Caspian invited him, speaking in a low, deep voice in a way that let his Spanish accent even more evident. He knew very well the effect such seductive move used to have on Peter and how to use it to his advantage.

- The tea will get cold. - the other one stammered in a failed attempt to disguise the desire that took his breath away.

The dark-haired man just chuckled cheekily.

- Just shut up.

Peter didn't even try to retort as he knew that any form of resistance would be futile. He just stood up and let Caspian guide them to the little slice of Heaven the two of them shared.

Since the first time he and his siblings were sent away from Narnia, Peter didn't believe that he would ever be able to feel such genuine joy in worldly things again, like taking an afternoon nap in the shade of a tree, inhaling the scent of the pages of a book when you open it, feeling a snowflake melting on your tongue or even practicing small acts of altruism and kindness on a daily basis that were capable of transforming lives in miraculous ways - he also quickly learned that he didn’t need to be a powerful hero to help those who needed it most.

And of course, dancing at night in the middle of the kitchen with your love. It was another one of his favorite pastimes. Two bodies united, moving in time and space. Heart against heart, beating like drums, sharing the same melody. They were flames, burning and turning everything around them into shadows and smoke, until there was nothing left but the music and two souls naked in the starlight.

The tea was left forgotten on the top of the table, along with all his responsibilities. At that moment, Peter's only reality was Caspian's hair tangled between his fingers, those strong arms running around his hips and the heat of the young man’s lips brushing the skin of his neck. He had never felt so much pleasure in being totally surrendered. All Peter could do was close his eyes, sigh deeply, and just exist.

After that, it's not known exactly how much time has passed. Any sense of hours or minutes became completely clouded and scattered. One moment, the two men were standing in the kitchen and the next, they had been magically transported to the bedroom, taking off their clothes and continuing their dance, but this time, to a rhythm that only they could hear. It was an old song of which only they knew the notes, the rests and the chords. They were the only ones who knew which parts of the body they needed to touch with their hands or mouth to make the other moan, scream and sing.

At the end of the act, the two found themselves thrown onto the messy bed sheets, sweaty bodies intertwined in the darkness. Peter rested his forehead against Caspian's collarbone and closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of his skin and concentrating on the heavy rise and fall of the boy's chest. Then, he felt Caspian wrap his arms around him and slowly slide his hands down his back, massaging specific points on his spine with circular movements of his thumbs. It was a calm, relaxing sensation that made all the tension in the blond's muscles disappear, allowing him to sink into a deep sleep.

It was still something strange to him, being with someone who made him feel safe, protected. In most situations, it was Peter who was forced to take on the mantle of protector, as the eldest brother and as king. It was a challenge to give up this role that he had imposed on himself for so long. It took patience and reflection for him to finally understand that his family was no longer in danger, that the war was already over. That he didn't need to fight anymore. Of course, there were still days when he was haunted by terrible echoes of the past, nights when he woke up to the sound of his own crying and the screams in his head, afternoons when he walked very attentively down the street or stood still for a minute in front of the cottage’s door in an unusual state of alert, as if he feared that something bad was about to happen at any moment.

Now, everything had changed. Peter had found someone he could show his demons to and he knew they wouldn't run away. Not that he had never been vulnerable when he was around his siblings. It was hard not to be when the four of them knew each other better than anyone else: Susan could read his thoughts with just a single look. After years of fighting side by side on the battlefield, Peter and Edmund's minds worked as one, always predicting and preceding each other's every move and strategy. Lucy's presence was enough to calm the storm of emotions that shook his insides.

But with Caspian, that feeling had a different flavor. It wasn't better, nor worse, it was just… new. Peter would face a thousand armies out of love for his family and his kingdom. The love he felt for Caspian made him want to lay down his sword and strip off his armor forever. It was the kind of love that made him want to live, not just survive.

Yes, sometimes all a king needed was a safe haven to lean on. Sometimes, what a king needed most was just someone he could be weak with.

#bia's failed attempt at writing #also I beg you all to please ignore any possible historical inaccuracy in this 🙏#I didn't specify the time in which the story takes place but I imagined it like 5-6 years after the ending of “Prince Caspian (movie-verse)#oh and can I mention HOW BEAUTIFUL 40's SONGS ARE?!!! I'm just commenting 'cause I heard many 40's vibes playlists on youtube #to get some inspiration while writing this fic and OMG I FELT SO RELAXED AND NOSTALGIC (FROM A TIME I WASN'T EVEN BORN) IT'S SO CRAZY!!!! 😍#the chronicles of narnia #chronicles of narnia #narnia #tcon #c.s. lewis #narnia au #peter pevensie #caspian x #prince caspian #caspeter #caspian x peter #peter x caspian #william moseley #ben barnes #disney #fanfiction #narnia fanfiction #narnia fic #narnia aesthetic #aesthetic #aesthetic moodboard #my edits #oneshot #one shot #my writing

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shoezuki · 3 months

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the essay i got due tomorrow n barely done is like. its good i like it im excited to write it and im so upset that i have no time and am sick like.

its in my fairy tales n folklore class n im writing on the subject of taboo topics in perrault's 'donkeyskin' and specifically the symbolism/metaphors of the donkey hide she wears n how it symbolizes her trauma haunting her long after she escapes her fathers attempts to marry her n like. i like the story a lot n how its kinda fucked up but perrault really watered down the father-daughter incest topic n tried to make it more 'safe' and less taboo. but he fucking failed and i wanna argue bout it so bad. but my head hurt

#ask to tag #incest mention #her wearing the skinned prized donkey her father owned even after she escaped him #and how filthy and disgusting it was and how she never took it off #until finally she sees herself for the first time and sees how ppl see her.....#its her wearing her trauma ok its . the symbolism #how innate it was to her like how the skin just became her. she never saw herself. but the shame and pain of it is present and EUGH #its a good tale. i need to read other variants cuz perrault really like. forgot bout the king halfway through #id write bout other ones but i have no time lshglshg #but anyways its about patriachal power and how she suffered under 'polite' society that dictated her father controls her #even when that control is. fucked up and disgusting.#EUGH #i did read the grimms version tho n tbh that one was very similar #only major difference i recall rn is that the king's advisors were like 'what the fuck oh god dont marry your own fucking daughter'#but in perrault's version the only one who helps her and sees how wrong this is is her fairy godmother #but even then. she barely does shit. her attempts to 'politely' turn down the king fail #god. god.

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arabnico · 1 year

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nico is a tragic gay figure because homosexuality violently ruined his life and doomed him to being eternally nostalgic to the “before” in his existence—which he no longer remembers as it was forcefully ripped from him, further alienating him from his own ideal paradigm of what he believes he should and was meant to be—and to therefore yearn for it. there’s no possible way out for him. the last time you felt free was before, and you’ll never be free again so you’re doomed. you’re stuck forever rolling the boulder up the hill forever trying to redeem yourself. your definition of freedom is no longer something that is materially achievable for you. you were dead from the start.

#like that's MY interpretation i don't expect any of you westerners to understand what i'm talking about #i've already mentioned that i find attempting to analyze and comprehend nico's homosexuality through a modern western lens is simply flawed #and reductive and fails to grasp the depth and complexity of that matter #so spare me your essays. i do not care what you think at all

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christnarr · 17 hours

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marriage counselors HATE THEM!

#woe unhealthy canon-compliant postfall christnarr be upon ye #madness combat #madcom #jebediah christoff #dr. hofnarr #christnarr #marrowart #obligatory mention that obviously jeb is in the wrong here. do i even need to say that #this is in the context of the plan + the fall #he loves her but he pushed her aside for his savior obsession and his actions still hurt her and the people around him #hofnarrs smart enough to realize jeb cant be reasoned with but against her better judgement she Cares #who wouldnt theyve known eachother for 15 years #anyways tldr they just crumble postfall because jeb goes through a mental spiral and becomes bent on the savior thing #hofnarr is hurt but unfortunately (with the state their relationship is in at the time) not surprised #jeb was conditioned into believing he was destined to save the world #so finding out he failed #and only (unwillingly) contributed to causing harm #of course hw would take it into his own hands and push aside everything else #this combined with that need to be perfect. the idea that he must not make mistakes instilled into him #(as working under the nexus usually entailed)#and because of this in an attempt to 'fix' things he hurts people in the process!#and doesnt even notice or admit his doing so #even outright refusing to accept failure in multiple instances #whatever. christnarr miserable i love them 🫶

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someidiotwithalaptop · 1 year

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Alright: What the FUCK happened to Summer???

Because something sure did, and every new thing we hear about her gets more disturbing, and it haunts me.

So, I'll start with stuff that's fairly certain and like, small leaps of logic before I go full tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist. We have very little actual info about Summer, nearly all of it from different characters talking about her.

From Yang we get the basic facts from her family's perspective: Summer was a Huntress who went out on a mission and never came back. We also get the characterization of, "Super-Mom: Baker of cookies and slayer of giant monsters."

From Qrow, we learn that 1. She was a brat, which like, honestly STRQ was probably just "oops! all brats" 2. He thinks she would have pressed on if she knew the truth, which, uh, she almost definitely did. "We don't have to kill you to stop you," is not the sort of thing you say to Salem if you don't know she's immortal, that's all I'm saying. 3. Whatever her final mission was, she didn't tell him or Tai or Ozpin. I'm inclined to believe Ozpin when he says he genuinely doesn't know what happened to Summer, since his biggest secret is already out—plus he's been genuinely repentent about the mess his lying caused in Volume 6 and is taking steps to do better in the future. It would feel really weird thematically if he knew and was keeping yet another giant bomb of a secret. So Summer went on her final mission alone, or at the very least, she didn't tell any of Ozpin's inner circle where she was going.

We'll get to speculating about why not later, but I think this point is probably going to be important in Ruby's character arc—whatever Summer's ultimate fate, she got there because she tried to save the world alone, and we've seen Ruby do something similar. Like she's not running off after Salem by herself, but she's definitely trying to shoulder the burden of leading and inspiring everyone to keep going all on her own, without asking for help as that responsibility has been slowly yet systematically destroying her mental health. I mean ffs she's been literally carrying her team on her shoulders for two episodes now.

HOWEVER: Oz, Tai, and Qrow don't know anything about what happened to Summer, but it's possible that Raven might. When Ruby tries to reach out to her and convince her to work together, because they'll have a better chance than if they try to do it alone, Raven says, "You sound just like your mother," in truly the most bitter, disdainful-ass tone I have ever heard. And then she opens a portal for Cinder to throw a fireball at her. Whether this is about a more generalized friction that maybe contributed to Raven leaving, or a specific moment when Summer tried to get her on board with whatever she was doing on that final mission, is kind of uncertain. Or it could be both!

(And it might also be she married my ex bitterness but, admitting my biases here, I hate that fucking trope with a fiery passion and I think it's more interesting if her anger at Summer is actually about Summer.)

Regardless, if Summer did ask her for help, then based on how Raven reacted to Ruby I don't think she got it lmao

And then. Oh, and then. We get Salem!

"Your mother said those words to me. She was wrong too."

"Her again?"

So like. Salem definitely met her. Had a whole-ass conversation with her, even.

And that fucking smile??? Salem did some shit to Summer. It's just a question of what, exactly?

Right. Okay. So after they kill the Hound and realize WHOOPS that was a person and he looks an awful lot like Ruby! and everyone reunites, Ruby says this:

"When I saw its eyes, I knew. Salem used to kill people with Silver Eyes, like Maria. But she’s always wanted me alive. Why would that change unless, when she met Mom, she learned she could do something new?"

Timeline-wise, this seems accurate! But I'd like to also insert TR into the equation. It's a little hard to tell given the uhh, body horror of it all, but he definitely looks younger than Qrow (which is maybe not saying a lot given that Raven looks at least ten years younger than Qrow and she's his twin lmao) and, more to the point, like he's probably younger than Summer.

Like, yeah, hard to tell, but I don't think this man is past forty. And even if he is, it doesn't seem like Salem's had him for very long, seeing as she never sent him after Ruby or the relics in previous volumes. So he's probably an example of what Salem's been doing to SEWs after Summer.

Also, Salem calls him an experiment, and says that so far she's pleased with the results. Meaning Summer isn't exactly a Hound, though I wouldn't say that puts grimmification off the table. Just that it's not in the exact same way he is. And it's worth pointing out that the way TR has been grimmified, it's left him completely without agency and unable to disobey Salem. Even after Ruby blasts the Grimm off his head, he's still left repeating "Take The Girl" over and over without any sign of whoever he used to be coming back to the surface. It's possible that is what Salem is referring to when she calls him a successful experiment.

So the way Salem has dealt with people with silver eyes has gone:

Maria (kill her) > Summer (?!?!) > TR (an... experiment) > Ruby (bring her to me alive)

Adding TR into the mix, it seems unlikely that the "something new" Salem learned she could do from Summer Rose would actually have been, y'know, a Hound. Plus from a narrative perspective, I don't think we're going to have Ruby literally saying exactly what happened to Summer into the camera only for her to turn up, Hound-ified just as expected, a couple volumes later. So, some possibilities:

Ruby is actually exactly correct about what happened to Summer, but she's not going to show up later so there's no reason not to just tell us. Personally I doubt it's this, given the way the mystery has been unfolding over eight volumes and counting. It'd be kind of weird to just tell us instead of showing us, or indeed having the Hound literally be Summer. Also, if Summer is a Hound too then why is TR an experiment?

Summer was Grimmified but didn't survive the process, so she gave Salem the idea but she's not actually a Hound. This also seems a bit odd to me given that would mean she's basically just dead like we assumed, but with extra steps. Like it's upsetting but it doesn't represent the kind of dramatic upheaval to the sisters' worldviews that it feels like this is building towards. It doesn't explain how fucking smug Salem is about the whole thing.

Summer was Grimmified, but didn't actually lose any agency. This would explain why Salem is still experimenting, and why she's so pleased with TR—he's even more singleminded in carrying out her goals than Tyrian is. It also fits with the way the Grimmification worked on Salem. Even after she jumped into the goop, she was still very much herself—it's possible it influenced her, but she was definitely capable of showing love and affection to both Ozma and her daughters. She just, uhh,,, was also willing to try and murder them. But it's unclear to me how much of that was Evil Goo and how much was just that there's no way a human being spends any significant length of time as the Last Woman Alive without some unpleasant side effects. We're social creatures and we do not generally do well when completely deprived of company.

Summer wasn't Grimmified at all, the whole Hound thing is a red herring.

In either 3 or 4, regardless of how much body horror happened, Ruby is wrong about what happened to Summer. And in order to not undercut that moment of utter despair at what probably happened to Summer... I feel like what actually did happen has to be. like. worse.

AND IT'S A TAD DIFFICULT TO GET WORSE THAN THE HOUND.

So. Time to put our tinfoil hats on: what if we add an element of horrible betrayal?

Yes this is a Summer-joined-Salem conspiracy post.

But hear me out okay! Circling back a bit, why wouldn't Summer tell any of the inner circle where she was going? If she talked to anyone, it was Raven, who had already noped the fuck out by the time Summer went on her final mission. Now, if it was just Tai and Qrow I'd say she might've kept it from them for the same reason everyone always keeps that secret—she didn't want them to lose hope. But... Ozpin already knows. There'd be no reason not to tell him what she was doing, unless she knew he'd try to stop her.

Now: my goal here is to make all this make sense, without altering the first foundational piece of characterization we get for Summer. Namely, "Super-Mom: Baker of cookies and slayer of giant monsters." I'm not saying Summer learned the truth and went, welp, if you can't beat 'em join 'em. Because both Summer and Raven tend to act as foils to Ruby and Yang, and "gave up immediately" doesn't feel like an interesting foil to Ruby's perserverence. But, if you find out that there's an existential threat to the entire world, and she can't be killed...

Isn't it worth trying to negotiate?

Especially if, say, you were absolutely desperate to end this war in your lifetime. Because Summer knows that if it's really impossible, if Salem can't be stopped, then Ruby will get dragged in whether she likes it or not. All because of a trait that Summer passed down to her.

Salem's been killing people with silver eyes, probably for millenia. It's easily possible that Summer had her own visit from someone like Tock, or noticed the same thing Maria's father did, that there's a suspicious lack of people with silver eyes considering how useful they are against the Grimm. As long as Salem is a threat, Ruby is going to be in that same danger. Forever.

So she has to do something, right? If there's even the tiniest chance she can end this now, before Ruby will ever have to suffer for it, before she gets pulled into an impossible war and Yang comes charging in after her, because of course she's going to try to help her sister... isn't that a chance worth taking?

This is why I think Raven knows some shit, by the by—when she's telling Yang about Salem, she actually kind of indirectly drops the same bomb that went off in Volume 6, it's just that she didn't do it in the same explicit terms that Jinn did. "She can't be stopped, she can't be reasoned with, and she will not rest until Humanity crumbles at her feet."

"Can't be stopped" is Raven's translation of can't be killed, since "We don't have to kill you to stop you" seems to be a flavor of terrifying exclusive to Ruby and apparently Summer. But "can't be reasoned with" implies that somebody tried. And like, let's be honest. Do we really think Raven was the one who decided to give diplomacy a go?

Not to mention this line, which I'm like 90% sure is referring to Summer:

"Or... you can go back to Qrow and join Ozpin's impossible war against Salem, and meet the same fate as so many others."

It really seems like Raven knows something she's not telling us. Like, if that is a reference to Summer's fate, does that mean Raven knows what it is, or is she just speculating like everyone else? Does she have a portal to Summer, and is that giving her information the others don't have? All that, combined with the fact that she's also way more bitter about Summer than everyone else, seems signficant.

Anyways. Let's say Summer decides to have a chat with Salem.

She can't tell Ozpin. He'd try to stop her, because he'd see it as a suicide mission. Qrow or Tai both might tell him, or agree with him and get in her way, so she keeps it from them too. Maybe she goes off completely by herself—or maybe she goes to Raven, because she's the only one who might be able to help who Summer knows won't breathe a word of it to Ozpin. Either way, Raven doesn't help her. She's not getting anywhere near Salem.

And then... well. Salem got here by manipulating people, by swaying them to her cause. Summer asks her what she actually wants out of all this. Isn't there some way they could resolve this without this endless war, all this endless death?

Important to note, I don't think we've heard Salem's motivation in her own words. At least, not since the Lost Fable, when she wanted to rule with Ozpin as the new gods of Remnant. I think it's safe to say at least a few things have changed since then. Closest I can think of is what she says to Cinder in Volume 8, "In pursuit of a new world, no cost is too great." Which is ominous, but also quite vague, and says nothing about what she plans to do with the relics.

Instead, we get a whole lot of people guessing. Ozpin thinks she wants to die. Tyrian thinks she wants to destroy the world. Hazel and Mercury think she wants to remake it, with no Huntsman Academies, with them as the new top dogs.

There's a pattern here—Salem never actually says what she wants, and other people have a habit of projecting their own motives onto her actions. Ozpin wants to die, Hazel wants to destroy the Huntsmen Academies, Mercury wants to be the one with the power so he's not getting hurt, and Tyrian's just in it for the chaos.

And it's not like Salem hasn't done stuff like that on purpose. By the time she started growing her army against the gods and telling people they would all steal immortality like she did, she'd already tried to kill herself. She didn't want immortality. She just let people think she did, because it was more convenient for her.

So if this agent of Ozpin's comes to her, absolutely desperate for a way to end the fight before it can come for her daughters, well... why not just tell her about the gods? About how Ozpin plans to one day reunite the relics, and submit Remnant to their judgment? About what might happen if he does?

(TBH I don't think Oz will ever do that, not because I think he's decided not to or anything like that, but because I doubt he'll ever see a humanity united enough for it to be worth trying. We're an argumentative bunch.)

But like. To Summer, all of a sudden there's this other, even bigger existential threat. And Salem isn't like Ozpin. She does have a plan! She wants to destroy the relics, so that the gods can never be resummoned, because of course she hates them and so she would never want them to come back!

(Again, not saying this is actually true, my best guess is that she's trying to bring them back so she can fight them again slkdfjlskdj)

And then, if they succeed, not only will the gods not be a threat anymore, Salem won't be a threat either. She'll have gotten what she wants!

"This can all... be... over..."

Summer has to finish this. There has to be a way for her to do this by herself, to save everyone, to put a stop to it all in time to protect her children! (Raven can't be right, it can't just be hopeless!)

From there, all Salem really needs to do is be a bit careful how much she tells her other followers about what she plans to do—which it seems like she has—and eventually find a way to either hide what relics she has or convince Summer that she's trying really hard to destroy them, definitely, pinky promise!

(And, as an aside: if true, it's very possible that the reason Salem's so insistent on keeping Ruby alive isn't that she wants to turn her into another Hound, but rather that was one of Summer's conditions.)

All this, of course, may or may not come with a sprinkle of Grimmification. Because why not add some body horror to the good old-fashioned betrayal horror! Though, if I'm right and not going completely off the wall here, I suspect it's probably more in the vein of Cinder than TR. Namely, like, consensual.

Regardless, it definitely feels like Summer has been idealized to a point that's just sort of... begging for trouble. She's the perfect Huntress. The best of us. The one who would have pressed on. And like, historically putting people on pedestals like that has not gone well in this show (see: Pyrrha). Not to mention the way trying to be the perfect Huntress that Summer was has been affecting Ruby over the years.

Also, definitely totally unrelated to all of the above: I think paragons that turn to evil despite or indeed because of all their wonderful paragon qualities FUCK SEVERELY and I would like to see it.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 9 #tbh only very briefly but I wanna be safe #summer rose #ruby rose #salem rwby #tinfoil hat time #cw suicide mention #(Salem's canonical failed attempts)#long post

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whumpacabra · 6 months

Text

9. Revert

Failed escape attempt, anticipated violence, stripped, concussion, firearms mention, referenced starvation, implied beating, vaguely implied noncon

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

Harrison startled as the Wolf snatched his elbow. They had only been walking for a few minutes - half an hour at most - and they hadn’t gotten particularly far given Harrison’s weak body and wheezing lungs.

Which made the pause all the most frustrating.

“What - " He yelped as the Wolf put a hand over his mouth. The larger man’s eyes were furtively scanning the dark stairs above them, head on a swivel. In the indirect shine of the flashlight, Harrison would hazard to say those dark eyes were bright with fear.

“What is it?” He pulled away the hand, whispering as softly as he could. The Wolf flinched, looking down at him with abject terror.

“They’re back.” The words were squeezed from his throat, panicked breaths heaving from his heavy chest. “Go - go up. Hide - don’t let them catch you. Go.”

“Wolf - dammit - don’t!” Harrison stage whispered, hissing through his teeth as the Wolf’s heavy footfalls sped quickly back to the bunker. Harrison was too tired to run after him. He looked down the shadowed stairs with an ache in his chest. He would get out. Get help. Come back for him.

The Wolf didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t deserve starving to death in that hell either.

And Harrison couldn’t stand the thought of any more blood on his hands -

There was movement beyond the wall, the mechanical whine of electricity. The elevator. The elevator was going down.

That was good for him, right? Run up, hope they didn’t have a team taking the stairs, hope he could get out of whatever lay above. Hope he could get a vehicle - or otherwise navigate the desert and find civilization. Something that resembled safety.

They would probably move the Wolf before he could get anyone to come back for him. If they were merciful, they would kill the Wolf here. Harrison knew Goldtooth wasn’t merciful.

He crept back down the stairs, arguing in his head about the decision with every step. He hated the Wolf - he hated Goldtooth - he wasn’t going to save the Wolf he was going to - to check on him. Survey the situation.

(Always the hero, always trying to help, always getting everyone else hurt and killed and worse.)

—

“Where is he?”

Harrison wasn’t sure what he expected, but the curl of a Boston accent in Goldtooth’s English voice was enough to startle him to stillness in the shadows of the stairwell. The elevator doors were open, empty.

He could slip inside and ride away.

The harsh sound of a fist meeting flesh made him flinch from the idea.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Goldtooth’s snarl had none of its usual sadistic amusement. He was enraged. There was a beep and crackle of static. “Anders, sweep the stairs. We’re down a volunteer.”

The response was too distant and muffled to hear, but Goldtooth huffed an unamused chuckle.

“Bitch either finally grew a pair or is as dumb as he looks and lost track of H after escaping.” Goldtooth’s voice rumbled low. “I didn’t say you could get out of the Box, did I?”

“No sir.” The Wolf wasn’t supposed to sound so small, so tired.

Harrison dared to creep forward, casting a glance down the hall. There weren’t any other soldiers.

“Last time I’ll ask: where’s H at?” The silence that followed was punctuated with a sharp slap. “No more questions. Red Room and strip. I’m not going to enjoy this nearly as much as I want to.”

Harrison breathed slowly through his mouth, pressing into the shadows as Goldtooth marched from the Wolf’s room to the weapons locker. Harrison couldn’t see, but from the sound of it, the Wolf had gone down the hall to the left - the door across from the water room.

He dared to poke his head out as Goldtooth stalked from the locker, neglecting to close it behind himself. For a split second Harrison feared he would be seen as the soldier turned to enter the Red Room, but all that followed was a slamming door.

The Wolf didn’t have long.

The weapons locker was stuffed to the brim with implements Harrison was far too familiar with. At first his heart sank, seeing firearms and ammunition behind a locked gate. But then his foot hit the handle of what he assumed was Goldtooth’s discarded weapon. A silenced semiautomatic - the same model Harrison had held so many months before as their helo took off from the air base.

Holding a loaded weapon in his hands had never felt so satisfying as he crept toward the door, double checking the hallway was clear. Goldtooth had asked a separate team to sweep the stairs, but they sure as hell wouldn’t be down here anytime soon.

For a brief moment he paused, eye catching the sterile white peeking through the ajar door across from the weapons locker. The Wolf had called it the White Room -

Focus, Harrison.

The Red Room door had slammed shut, but he hadn’t heard a lock engage. He could certainly hear the two on the other side.

“Slow down, I’m not in a rush.” Goldtooth’s laugh burned like acid in Harrison’s stomach. “All you had to do was say something - he went up the stairs, he hid in the elevator shaft - but no, your dumbass forgot the first rule: do as I say. Anders will find him - or what’s left of him - and if he’s lucky I won’t have a new chewtoy.

Now - slow the fuck down, one button at a time, nice and easy. And quit crying like a little bitch for fuck’s sake.”

Harrison was a goddamn Marine. He had seen live combat. He had killed before. It certainly wasn’t for lack of will that he found himself on his back, dazed with a gold-toothed smile baring down at him.

He was half starved and certainly dehydrated. He didn’t know the layout of the Red Room - a dark, dank place so thick with the iron of old blood. He wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough.

He wasn’t enough.

“Look who’s decided to show up.” A hand snatched his ankle, dragging him across the concrete too fast. He winced, groaning as his aching skull and bony body scraped against the rough flooring.

Christ - there was definitely broken glass on the floor in here.

“Fuck you too, asshole.” He weakly kicked away the hand, the snarl on his lips loosened as his swirling vision glimpsed the Wolf. Jacket and gloves off, shit buttons undone, and eyes wide with blind panic and guilt.

“Hm, and here I heard your quips died with the other little piggy, hm?” Goldtooth pressed his boot to Harrison’s chest, smirking down at him. Harrison winced, writhing as small glass fragments buried deeper in his back. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Harrison nearly attempted to rear up the second the boot left his chest. He wanted to lunge at the torturer, the monster who pulled puppet strings and laughed. The crack of a kick to his skull made those wants a very far away and blurry concern.

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

#whump #failed escape #escape attempt #anticipated violence #stripped #concussion #firearms mention #referenced starvation #implied beating #implied noncon #freelancers au #finals are done o7 I'm free to giggle and kick my feet while torturing my brain blorbos #it's been...a rough couple of months tbh. but i really want to share this story with you so I'm trucking through it #tomorrow is sooo juicy like honestly one of my fave things I've written

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actress4him · 1 year

Text

June of Doom 2023

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch , @robinbugbanned

Day 11 - “We’re out of time.” | Firearm | Backseat | Self-defense

Day 12 - “It’s no use.” | Explosion | Fainting | Trembling

Also qualifies for @whumpawoman ’s Whump Girl Summer Day 7 - Sisterhood

Contains: lady whump with male whumper, captivity, gun violence, mild blood, death mention

“He left a chain out.”

Isa raises her head from where she’s curled on her side, blinking wearily at Lainey. “What?”

“Look!” She picks the chain up off the counter with a loud scrape and rattle, dangling it in the air for Isa to see. “He forgot to put it away before he locked the cabinet!”

Frowning, Isa lies back down, clearly not grasping the enormity of the situation. “Okay.”

“No, Isa look, it’s…” She crosses the room quickly, ignoring all the aches and pains that always accompany every movement, and crouches down next to the other girl. “This is finally something different. He’s never made a mistake like this before. There could be something we could do with this!” She examines the chain carefully, mind churning.

Isa wrinkles her nose. “Like what? We’re not going to chain ourselves up, he does that plenty.”

Lainey rolls her eyes. “No, like…this is heavy.” She hefts the metal in her hand, an idea beginning to form. “Especially the manacle part. What if…what if I could swing it at his head and knock him out?”

Now she’s got Isa’s attention. She picks her head up again, an incredulous look on her face. “What? No, Lainey, that’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Is not.” She huffs in frustration, swinging the chain like a pendulum. Isa doesn’t believe they can escape, she gets that. But why can’t she see this possibility when it’s literally right in front of her face? “Look, this thing is a weapon. He’s left us with something we can actually use to gain the upper hand here. I’m telling you, this could very easily knock somebody out if used the right way.”

“If.” Isa rolls over onto her back, grimacing as some part of her body apparently protests, and rubs her face with her hands. “You’re not as strong as you used to be, you’ve said it yourself. And if you missed, or you didn’t hit him hard enough the first time…do I need to explain to you how bad it would be?”

“Do I need to explain to you how bad it is, staying here for the rest of our lives and doing nothing to try and fix it?” Isa’s right, failing at this would be…catastrophic. But that’s why she doesn’t plan on failing. And if somehow she does…she’d rather get punished for trying to escape than sit on her butt and not try.

“I’m going to do this. You’re not going to talk me out of it. And I could really use your help, so I’d like it if you quit arguing and just accepted that this is happening.”

Isa shakes her head slowly. “How am I possibly gonna help your madcap plan?”

Grinning, Lainey jumps to her feet. “By using your magic! You can tell me when he’s coming so I can get ready. I’ll hide over here…” She strolls toward the alcove, where she’ll be out of sight of the stairs if she stands against the wall. “Oh, and maybe you can sit right here, at the corner, so he has to walk over here! Then you can give me some kind of verbal signal, we’ll have to decide what that should be, and I step out and swing it right at his head!” She demonstrates the action, rather poorly and awkwardly, unfortunately. The way the alcove is set up, she’d have to use her left hand to swing a direct path toward the man. Frowning in concentration, she moves back and forth a few times, trying to decide if there’s a way to use her right hand and get the same momentum.

“So not only are you going to get yourself punished for trying to hurt him and escape, you’re going to get me punished, too, for participating and using my magic.”

“No, I’m going to get us both out of here. Can you please have some faith for once?”

“No! Because this is a ridiculous plan that’s never going to work! And I’ve told you before, you’re not bringing me along on any wild escape. If you happen to somehow be able to knock him out and run, go for it. I will cheer you on and wish you the best. But I’m staying here, so that you have a better chance of actually making it.”

Lainey turns to face her squarely, fists clenching. “And I’ve told you before, I’m not leaving without you! So if you’re going to refuse to even try to run, I might as well give up this plan now. Put the chain back where I found it and pretend I never saw it.” The thought makes her want to scream and cry, but not as badly as the thought of making it to safety with Isa still trapped here. She doesn’t care what she says about finding help and coming back, she can’t trust that she’d still be alive and in one piece by the time she returned.

Slowly, painstakingly, Isa pushes herself up off the floor, propping herself up with her hands. “You’re seriously going to give up? Because I can’t come?”

“Because you won’t come,” Lainey corrects. “I know you think you can’t. But I swear we can figure out a way. I’ll carry you if I have to, just…please, Isa. Please let me help you.”

“You can’t carry me,” she deadpans. “You’re not much better off than I am.”

“I’m not in great shape, but I can do what it takes. And you can too!” She points straight at Isa, her frustration and desperation growing every moment. “Why won’t you just try and save yourself?”

“Because I’m scared!” The cry hangs in the silence that follows it. It’s not like neither of them knew that it was true, but having her say it out loud is different. More heart-wrenching.

Isa curls in on herself, hugging her legs. “I’m scared, Lainey. I’m scared of what he’ll do, I’m scared of you not making it out, I’m scared of me not making it out, I’m scared of one or both of us dying.”

Lainey stares down at the floor for a moment before replying. “I know.” Then her own admission - “I am, too. I’m scared of all those things. But either of us choosing to stay here scares me more than anything else.”

She’s quiet for another minute, rubbing her fingertips along the cool metal of the chain. “I’m going to practice. Will you…keep an ear out for him?”

Isa nods slowly, eyes on her feet. “Yeah.”

For the next while, Lainey practices stepping out from behind the corner and swinging the chain at an imaginary head over and over again, until her arm muscles are burning with that good, familiar soreness she used to thrive on at softball meets. She tries to think of different scenarios, of him passing the corner and seeing her before she can step out or him not coming far enough at all, tries to pinpoint how tall he is compared to her and how high she’ll have to aim.

Isa stays silent the whole time, but eventually she struggles to her feet and crosses the room to sit where Lainey had indicated earlier. She takes that to mean she’s planning to help, at least, which gives her a renewed sense of determination. Now she just needs to do her part, and convince Isa to run with her.

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Lainey stops what she’s doing at Isa’s quiet words, looking down at her. “I’m positive.” Or at least she’s refusing to acknowledge the parts of her mind that aren’t so sure. “I’m going to at least stun him, which will give me plenty of opportunity to hit him again and knock him out. And as soon as that happens, we run for the stairs. You can even start heading that way before me, to give yourself a head start.”

Isa sighs. “Lainey…” Before she can say anything further, she stiffens, eyes cutting toward the stairs. “We’re out of time,” she whispers frantically.

Her heart suddenly pounding, Lainey dives behind the wall, pressing her back against the concrete blocks. Sure enough, the locks begin to creak seconds later.

“If I do this and you just sit there and refuse to come, I promise you that I will stay and take the punishment for it,” she whispers in a rush. Maybe it’s blackmail, just a bit, but she doesn’t care. She’ll do whatever it takes.

His footsteps sound on the wooden steps. The hand holding the chain is sweating, but she doesn’t dare adjust it, trying to hold everything completely still so it doesn’t make the faintest clink.

He pauses at the bottom of the stairs. “Where’s the other one?”

Too late, she realizes that they never came up with a cue to use. She’s just going to have to rely on Isa and whatever she can hear.

“In the corner, resting.”

Immediately her heart lurches at her hiding place being revealed, but she takes a deep breath and calms it back down. It’s fine, this is good. He needs to come over, he needs to know where she is. There’s not really another place she could be, anyway.

“Thinks she’s too good to bother getting up for me now?” Footsteps again. He’s coming her way.

“She might still be asleep,” Isa mumbles, but that doesn’t make sense as a cue, right? She’s on edge, weight on her toes, waiting, trying not to give into the urge to jump out too early and ruin everything.

Then it comes, short and straightforward - “Lainey!”

Just like she’d practiced, she pivots her body around and brings her arm forward with all her strength. The look of shock on his face just before the manacle makes contact is golden. Unfortunately, he’s a bit taller than she’d anticipated, and it smashes into his jaw instead of his skull.

Still incredibly satisfying. But not enough to knock him out.

He stumbles sideways, a string of curses spilling from his lips. “Go!” Lainey shouts, and to her immense relief she sees Isa scramble to her feet out of the corner of her eye.

She can’t focus on her right now, though. Switching the chain to her right hand, she steps forward again. She hadn’t practiced with her right arm. But it’s her dominant side, she’s more confident in it, and her left hand is so sweaty she’s afraid that the chain will slip right out of it. Besides, it’s much easier to hit a target that she can actually now see. Seconds after the first hit, the manacle slams into him again, this time squarely on the back of his head.

He falls forward, just barely catching himself against the wall where Isa had just been sitting. It’s clear that he’s disoriented, but just to be sure, Lainey swings the chain at him one last time.

It’s too bad that she can’t stay to watch him hit the floor, but she still hears him fall and internally cheers as she books it for the stairs.

Isa has only made it three-fourths of the way up, clutching the stair rail, when Lainey passes her. “Keep coming! I’m gonna look for keys!” If they can take his car, their chances of escape will be so much higher. Especially for Isa.

Throwing open that cursed door is a momentous occasion that she can’t stop and enjoy. Instead she plunges into the house - more like a cabin, from the looks of it - searching for the way out and for where car keys might be kept. It’s disturbingly…normal. A bachelor pad, obviously, with little in the way of decor or extraneous furniture, but otherwise just a normal cabin where a normal person would live. No one would ever guess walking in that there were two women being tortured in the basement.

The good news is that it’s small, so it doesn’t take long to find what seems to be the only door leading outside. And hanging on a hook beside the door is a car key.

“Got it!” she shouts, snatching it up. This is actually going the way she planned. This is actually working. They’re going to get out of here, she can feel it.

She hears the basement door shut and jogs back that way. Isa is leaning heavily against it, meticulously sliding and turning all the locks into place. Part of Lainey wants to urge her to come on, to leave it be, but the triumph of being able to lock him in the basement for once wins out.

As soon as the last lock is done, though, she grabs Isa’s arm and throws it over her shoulders. “Come on, let’s go! I’ve got the car key!”

Isa is silent as she half-drags her back through the house and out the front door, but Lainey can hear her harsh breathing and occasional bitten-back noises of pain in her ear. She’s torn between feeling bad for causing her pain, knowing it’s for her own good, wanting to slow down for her, and wanting to push her faster than what already feels like a snail’s pace. Her own body is holding up fine for now, the adrenaline doing its work as she’d predicted, but it’ll all catch up with her in a little while. Which is just another reason that they need to get going fast.

The car is parked out front - an older model grey sedan, nothing special. A wave of memories of being locked inside the trunk washes over her, but she forges ahead regardless, escorting Isa to the passenger side before running around and yanking the driver’s door open. The interior smells like must and stale food. As Isa falls into the passenger seat, panting, Lainey jams the key into the ignition and turns it.

The engine sputters, but fails to turn over. “No, no, come on, don’t do this to me, we were doing so well…” She tries again with the same result. “Come on!” A third time, pumping the gas pedal, and it finally roars to life, the radio immediately blasting out country music. “Yes!”

Isa swats at the radio dial while Lainey shoves the gear shift into reverse, throwing her arm behind the other seat so she can turn and see out the back as she swings the car around. Gravel flies out from underneath the skidding tires. “We are getting…the heck…out of…”

“Lainey!”

The strangled gasp from Isa has her spinning around to look out the front at the cabin. The door is opening. He’s stumbling outside, a stream of bright red blood trickling down the side of his face.

“Shoot! Crap, crap, shoot, dang it!” Her hand fumbles at the gear shift, finally managing to throw it into drive before slamming her foot down on the gas pedal. The driveway leads off into the woods, disappearing down a hill only yards from the house. Freedom is so close.

“It’s okay, it’s fine. He can’t get us, we’ve got the car and he’s got -”

A loud crack splits the air, making both of them jump and duck instinctively. “A gun,” Isa chokes out, hand gripping the door with white knuckles. “He’s got a gun!”

“Shoot!” She winces at her poor choice of words, glancing in the rearview mirror as the car careens down the narrow road. They can still get away. They have to. She just has to drive, and drive fast, and get them out of harm’s way.

Another shot rings out, and the car jolts, swinging out of control sideways. Isa cries out, she’s not sure if it’s from pain or pure fear. She doesn’t have time to check. She’s trying desperately to keep the car straight and moving despite the way one of the back wheels is now dragging, but then the back windshield shatters. Both girls jump again, screaming, and Lainey loses the tenuous control she had. The car nosedives off the side of the road into a bed of leaves and brush. Lainey’s hands scrabble at the steering wheel, her foot pumping the gas, but all she gets in return is spinning tires.

“Lainey he’s coming, he’s coming!”

The terror she feels is reflected in Isa’s voice. She jams her foot into the pedal one more time, flinging mud everywhere, then throws open her door. “It’s no use, get out! We’ve gotta go, get out, run!” There’s no way they can outrun bullets. Can they? Maybe if they head straight into the forest, dodge behind the trees…

She nearly falls out the door in her haste. Isa is stumbling out her side, and Lainey spends precious seconds debating whether she should go to help her or just start running. He’s coming up on them way too quickly, striding across the gravel like he’s confident that he can catch them without having to run.

Isa is starting toward her now. “Go, go!” She waves her hand frantically at Lainey, who does start running but stays sideways, looking back at Isa and the man.

“Come on!” She should go back. Isa’s not going to be fast enough, she’s trying her best but he’s gaining on her. Making a split second decision, Lainey changes her course, darting back toward Isa to see if she can drag her along.

She can’t let her get caught. She promised she’d help her, that they’d get her out of there no matter what kind of shape she was in. If she gets caught now, after going against her instincts and putting her trust in Lainey…she’d probably never forgive her. Besides the fact that he might kill her.

She’s running, but somehow it feels like she’s making no progress. The man’s eyes are trained on Isa. The look on her face is desperate and pained and terrified, but the terror takes over completely when his hand reaches out and snatches her backwards by her shirt. Her scream imbeds itself in Lainey’s chest.

Her feet skid to a halt of their own volition. “Isa!”

“Go!” His arm slings across her chest, pulling her back into him, but she leans into it with all her might, sobbing. “Lainey run!”

No, no she can’t, she can’t! He has Isa, she can’t just run off and leave her! That’s the one thing she swore she wouldn’t do!

Another gunshot makes her jolt, hands automatically covering her ears. Isa’s scream this time is strangled. She crumples in his arms and he lets her fall, and Lainey’s thoughts freeze.

He shot her. She doesn’t even know where, couldn’t see where the gun was pointing, but now she’s on the ground, what if she’s dead? Did he kill her? Right there, right in front of her?

The gun swings upward, points straight at her. Lainey takes one step backwards, then two. Run! her instincts are shouting, but Isa is right there…

Isa gasps a shuddering breath and turns her face up toward Lainey. “Go! Get help!”

Her heart feels like it’s tearing from her chest, but she turns and flees into the forest just as a bullet whizzes past her shoulder.

#juneofdoom #day 11 #day 12 #whumpgirlsummer #day 7 #lady whump #lady whumpee #mild blood #captivity #death mention tw #gun violence #failed escape attempt #lainey and isa #two whumpees #urban fantasy #magical whumpee #whump writing #whump series

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raineyraven · 6 months

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can i just say that it's very obvious when a good omens s3 theorist isn't a writer

#this applies to a lot of good omens s3 speculation ive seen #but especially the coffee theory #like. do you think a proffesional writer who has been in the industry for decades would craft such a dramatic and tragic season finale #that highlights the motivations weaknesses and insecurities of each character #just to later say that one of the characters minds was being tampered with #that would essentially ruin a really well written moment of revelation and seperation between two very deep characters #nevermind the fact that the scene was very in character #and the narrative framing didnt paint aziraphale's decision as strange or suspicious at all #also the idea that crowley and aziraphale will make up early in s3 #havent seen many people actually believe that one but its still worth mentioning #because a season finale that divided them both so terribly by revealing their innermost wants #sets up a full season of attempts and fails at reconcilation persuasion and understanding really really well #just saying #thats my rant for the week. peace #good omens #good omens 3 #crowley #aziraphale

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babyprime · 2 years

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everyone is out here with their cute hcs which is great but I personally have mostly hcs that take advantage of them all being 13-17 years old. twins grounded from fortnite bc splinter caught leo vaping and he decided to take donnie down with him. mikey draws sasunaru fanart. whole lair smells like axe body spray. etc.

#rottmnt #not even mentioning leos failed attempt at tiktok fame or donnies self insert oc fic

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whump-queen · 2 years

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In the blur of the rain

content: angst, recapture, injury whump, rescue whump, caretaker whumper, blood mention, death wish, mental illness (probably), saving a life. words: 857

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The rain was cold and welcome. Whumpee shivered as it slid down their face and neck, swirling together with coagulated blood and soaking through their thin jacket.

The concrete below was cold and wet. The asphalt under Whumpee’s legs was covered entirely with about a half inch of water, slowly built up over the last several hours. Whumpee felt numb below the waist, but didn’t bother to move. They wouldn’t be able to lie down on the ground tonight, but knew that they would drift off in their sitting position eventually, given how exhausted they always felt.

It was draining, you know, sitting there, bleeding. For days it must’ve been, that they remained, huddled between several large crates that lay forgotten in the narrow alleyway behind the abandoned furniture store.

‘Forgotten in an alleyway’ had seemed quite appealing at the time, when Whumpee had first sunk down between the crates, after hours of limping and clutching their bleeding side.

At least they knew no one would bother them here. At least they wouldn’t get chased down in the night again and hurt even more. And since fading into their little enclave here in the dim little alley, they hadn’t much moved at all.

Instead, they sat, curled up, for what felt like an eternity, their chest sinking further and further back into the old bricks that lined the wall behind them, their face slowly melting and dripping down with the rain, each drop of their skin hitting the asphalt below them with a tiny splash, only to dissipate into the miniature lakes that had bloomed there with them, between the crates.

They could finally shut down and feel nothing again, as they’d wanted to for so long, but as was forbidden by the terror and the paranoia and the pain that every force they encountered had thrust upon them.

But the rain, at least, had been kind. The rain had felt quite nice at first, the cool water washing the dirt and the dried blood off the front of their face and the front of their shirt. Yes, it must’ve been the first nice feeling Whumpee could recall in a long, long time.

The rain was kind, though the wounds were not, and they could feel the sting of infection worsen as the days passed, as more coagulated blood seeped up through their shirt and down their torn cheekbone, as their head got heavier and their vision grew fuzzier.

But if they were lucky, maybe they would die here.

Maybe, they’d be allowed to die here.

It wasn’t a bad place to die, after all. Sure, the narrow alleyway wasn’t very pretty, but Whumpee supposed that in their state, neither were they. And with their eyes finally closed, forehead resting against their curled knees, they thought the rain at least sounded nice, pattering against the wet cement.

Whumpee shivered.

Yes, this really wasn’t a bad place to die.

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Whumpee was stirred from their half-comatose slumber at the sound of approaching footsteps echoing wet along the puddled concrete.

Ah, they must be imagining sounds now. It would hardly be the first time. They didn’t bother to raise their head. They hadn’t the energy to support the weight above their shoulders. Their skull felt full of lead.

The footsteps neared where Whumpee sat, huddled between the crates, and stopped.

“I knew I’d find you.”

That voice. They’d been found, they supposed.

Whumpee slowly raised their head. Their vision was fuzzy, but perhaps even the foggiest of brains were capable of hallucination.

“God, you look like shit.”

Whumpee only stared up with fading vision, slack-lipped, expression blank, their face long since melted down into the puddle below them.

“Jesus Christ. It’s a miracle you’re not dead yet, looking like that.”

Whumpee said nothing.

“You’ve been gone for 9 whole days, you know.”

Whumpee stared and saw less and less. They’d been found, but they couldn’t bring themselves to care.

“How long have you… been sitting here?” Whumper asked, already learning they would not be getting an answer.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d have lasted this long out here on your own, I honestly thought I’d be bringing back a corpse tonight.” Whumper paused, “Lucky for me, it seems you’re only most of the way there.”

Whumper bent down to where Whumpee sat, huddled, soaked and bleeding, shaking from the fever and shivering from the cold.

Whumper brushed a wet lock of hair out of Whumpee’s injured face, “Don’t worry little one, I’ll make you all better, and then you’ll have learned never to try to escape me ever again.”

Whumper reached their arms beneath Whumpee’s shivering body and lifted them into a bridal carry. Whumper’s skin was warm. Whumpee had nearly forgotten what it felt like to feel warm. They reached up and clung to Whumper’s sleeve, savoring, cherishing the way it brought feeling to their numb fingers.

“Come on now little thing, let’s get you home.”

Pressing a kiss to their wet forehead, they turned from that little enclave between the crates, and walked off into the night.

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