#she s s gross and ugly inside and out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amoonglove · 1 year

Text

Andromeda

((Content Warning: This work contains themes of Transmisogyny. Readers who are sensitive to this topic should take note.))

“You are a fool for coming here alone, Anthea.” The voice echoed through the treetops: Acantha’s voice.

Anthea had thought to stop and pray at the Font before heading to confront Acantha about her gross mistreatment of the Oracle’s Garden. “‘Cantha?” she said, her eyes darting through the treetops. She stood quickly, her meditations interrupted, and grabbed at her satchel. “Acantha, where are you? I’d like to ask about what happened this week.”

“It must be so wonderful, living in a world full of ignorant bliss. What is it like to have the happy life you’ve always dreamed of? Tell me, Anthea. How does it feel to be everyone’s favorite?” Her words dripped like venom from the trees. The birdsong ceased, the leaves no longer rustled, the Shroud was dead silent.

Suddenly, a large creature hit the earth right in front of Anthea, throwing her backwards and into a large stone, she gasped for air, the wind had been knocked out of her.

“There’s an old friend that’s been dying to see you, darling.” Acantha’s voice rang once more through the trees before fading away completely.

Anthea steadied herself and was finally able to take a shallow breath, the dust began to clear and she tried to focus on the creature in front of her. It seemed to fill the entirety of the Font and she could feel an extreme heat radiating from it. The Oracle scurried backwards and threw her arms up in front of her face as a loud screeching noise penetrated the deepest layers of the forest.

Anthea was heaving, curled up in a ball. Debris continued to fall onto her head and she braced herself as best as she could.

‘Oh yes, ANTHEA,’ the creature seemed to speak directly into her mind, its voice was raspy and its words accusatory. It seemed to emphasize her name, as if it were a curse. ‘We USED to be the best of friends.’

Anthea just shook her head, trembling.

‘Remember when you were ugly, ANTHEA.’ There it was again. ‘I remember. I was there. You’re still ugly, aren’t you? You’ll never be pretty, like a REAL girl.’

She gasped, her eyes opening suddenly to try and focus on the creature. The Font looked like the inside of an oven, the creature was wreathed in red and gold flames and fire licked the earth all around it. “Wh-who are you?” Anthea tried her best to be brave. “What do you want from me?”

The intensity of the heat increased two-fold and Anthea had to press herself up against the rock behind her and shield her eyes again.

‘I don’t want anything from you, no, no. Not like that Roegadyn did… or that Viera… or that Au Ra… they all wanted you until they found out what was underneath, didn’t they?’

Anthea squeezed her eyes closed but couldn’t stop tears from welling up in them. The creature’s words brought back a flood of memories of intimate meals, kind words, and unkept promises.

‘You thought they wanted you. You thought they needed you. You thought they LOVED you. And even worse, you thought you could heal them. Stupid!’ The creature seemed to chuckle as Anthea sobbed loudly, barely enduring the searing heat while rocking back and forth, squeezing her knees to her chest.

“I didn’t know…” she whispered between her sobs, “I didn’t know, there’s no way I could have known.”

‘But you DID know. And yet you kept the truth from them until it was too late. And you’ve already found your next victim, haven’t you?’ The creature seemed to bring its face right up to the girl. She couldn’t raise her head to look, but she felt her arms and shoulders begin to blister from the heat.

“S-Sion…” Anthea reached up to grab the earring he had made for her. As soon as her fingers clasped it, a burst of cold air filled her lungs and she felt relief from the heat, like finding shade from the afternoon sun. She looked up to see a large bird-like creature, its red eyes boring into her with rage and malice. “I am on the outside what I have always been! You know this to be true, Andromeda.”

The bird recoiled, its tail feathers whipping the ground in a rage. ‘You who cast me aside; you who shunned me!’ The creature reared its mighty head back and released a gout of flame from its mouth, consuming the Font in bright light.

Anthea held Sion’s earring, the one with small purple flowers, delicately in her hands. And even though the flames enveloped the girl like a swell at high tide, she appeared again, unharmed. “Andromeda, I’m sorry if you felt like I deserted you. It was never my intention. But you allowed me to be who I truly am. You led me to the door.” Anthea began to cry again at these words. “I wouldn’t be who I am if you weren’t such a brave boy and… I’m so grateful for you.”

The creature immediately stopped, its piercing eyes fixated on the Oracle again.

“I have never forgotten you, Andromeda.” Anthea reached out and stroked the bird’s head tenderly, the flames bit at her skin, peeling it back and charring it. But she didn’t stop. She continued to console the bird, crying and smiling and biting back the pain.

In an instant, the flames were quenched, as if they had never existed, and the Font returned to its peaceful state. Instead of a large flaming bird there stood a giant peacock, with shimmering green and gold feathers and regal plumage. ‘You… remember…’ he said so gently.

“Andromeda,” she whispered. Without even thinking she wrapped her arms around the bird’s neck and embraced him with everything in her. Andromeda, in turn, nuzzled her with his soft beak. “I’m so sorry, my friend. I never meant for you to feel abandoned.”

And with that, Anthea fell to the ground, unconscious.

#finalfantasy xiv #roleplaying #short #witchcraft

2 notes · View notes

the-firebird69 · 5 months

Text

BjA sounds like he's into it but he's into taking the things and using them himself and holding on to them. Hey I'm tired of him he's such a weekly and so mean and there's a lot of movies starting right now New Zealand is getting crushed again it's down to 20% more luck after tonight it'll be 15% more luck and that's a big drop since they're half of the population it's probably another percent and Australia too is getting promised it's by the pseudo empire and they say the sick of you but they're just as dumb and they hit half the island believe it or not right now the morlock heard about 50% and we expect after time to be 45%. It's a considerable amount they also attacking them all over the place and here and the devastating their forces try to get here and they're shrinking fast both sides are shrinking real fast now and people are going after them. There's more to it too there's a lot of loss going on by the warlock we're losing things not just people they're losing houses and property and Intel and notes and the max are extremely mad and others including the pseudo empire and what they say they're going to do and their plans are ugly and gross and they're mean and they're mean to our son already and need to be removed. So he does not have a plan to get our son anything but the max do and they're working on it now and upton. And what happens is the idiots hold on to the firebird and move it around and anyone who has against the s*** kicked out of them right now and his people are hurting upper and Upton his people are getting annihilated and it's Timmy Doyle. And he's going to become Thanos and he does that like going into the movie Warcraft what happens before and when we think it would be during the hulk it is when it happens and it is one of the first movies where he is incapacitated by the hulk and someone grabs both of them and puts him inside and it might be the foam scene where he gets the capsulated in foam and always says no it happened before that we think and you should see how within the saying that's after because that's when he leaves has true so he's a gray hulk and she's not really a hulk. And that is actually what he is he's not a hulk at all he is really azog and he is drinking the blood of the hulk and Justin does that kind of stuff and he becomes big all the time and the hulk people are after him but in human form. And The Rock can you take pretty good in several different mammals and he has mutant abilities has a superhuman and he sees that our son does too and he looks as competition sometimes but not really since together we can stop people from messing with us harder than it looks and he says oh yeah cuz she told him it's a lot of work and people don't want to do that here so what happens to him people wonder he's defeated in Lord of the rings and he's hit in the heart and that is by what people think it's Trump and it could be Tommy f and it's oakenshield saying that he's using our son as a shield and it usually tries to and he grabs him and Tim Doyle's captured and he is in Lord of the rings and we believe he's grabbed there and he's in a battle and loses and they pull them out her son hasn't been many many battles in the past from different times and he lost sometimes he wants people to see him why and how it's important

Thor Freya

Olympus

Wow the story is changing no it's not

Hera

0 notes

livwritesfics · 10 months

Note

Hello I Hope Your Doing Well! :P I read your rules! Would it be possible to get a headcannon or short fic of Law treating a S\O GN!Reader who has a skin disease that makes their body fight itself leaving scars on their skin? Law has never dealt with this disease before. Reader is self conscious about their scars under their arms. Maybe they go out and reader is made fun of by other lowly pirates for their scars and Law puts them in their place then comforts reader.

I'm currently dealing with this issue and on heavy antibiotics 500$ worth for 2 months.

If for whatever reason your not comfortable with this then please feel free to discard.

Hey Star! Thank you so much for the request ☻ I hope you enjoy and that I got this right *crosses fingers*

WARNINGS: ANGST & BULLYING

It had been a gigantic surprise that hit them with a strong force. Mentally that is. It was all so sudden. Their crush asking them out on a date and now them getting ready for their date.

Even Law was surprised at himself. He never would've imagined that he would ask his crush out on a date and yet... he has a date tonight.

Y/n was particularly feeling nervous. Nobody knew about their skin condition. They didn't have any nice shirts for the date that were long sleeved. And now, here they were, freaking out.

Oh! They thought of something. They quick pulled a short sleeved shirt out of their closet and grabbed a zip-up. They looked in the mirror at their outfit. Good. Not too fancy, not too casual.

They walked out of their room after they brushed their hair only to see Law coming out of his room at the same time.

"Hey!" They greeted each other at the same time. Law chuckled while Y/n blushed and looked away.

"You... look very stunning tonight." he complimented them. He gave them a look down, trying not to be a creep.

Y/n looked back up at him. "Thank you. And you look very handsome yourself."

It was amusing to them how Law's face turned into a tomato at the one compliment.

He cleared his throat and held out a hand. "Should we get going then?"

They took his hand, "Let's!"

★・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Hand in hand, they walked to the restaurant Law had booked for them. As they were walking, y/n noticed a bunch of pirates beside the restaurant checking them out. They tried to pay no mind to them but felt uncomfortable with their gaze on them.

Law noticed y/n felt uncomfortable and put his arm around them.

Right before they headed inside, one of the pirates grabbed them and fell right out of Law's grasp.

"Hey hot stuff," one of the pirates greeted creepily. He held them by both arms very tightly.

"Let me go!" They yelled trying to not show fear.

"Oh you wanna be let go? Try then!" One of the other pirates teased. As y/n wiggled in the man's grasp, their sweater was slipping off. Then one of the pirates screamed when their sweater fell off. Even Law did a gasp is surprise.

"What kind of skin do they have?" The leader shouted.

"They look so ugly!" "Gross!" "Disgusting!"

Law noticed Y/n tearing up at the insults. He put a hand on their shoulder and pulled them to his chest.

"That's enough." Law threatened with the calm voice that can send chills down your spine. Y/n was crying in Law's arms. Y/n was crying and shaking so hard. The insults being repeated over and over in their brain like a never-ending loop.

The laughing quieted down and the leader spoke up. "Oh yeah? C'mon man, anyone with eyes can see how ugly they are."

He narrowed his eyebrows. He stood in front of Y/n making sure they were behind him. "Anyone with eyes can see how pretty she is. She has the prettiest skin in the world so beat it."

Law was too angry to use his 'room' on them so he grabbed the shirt of the leader and practically used all three of them as punching bags.

Y/n had their face in their hands shaking. Law picked up their sweater from off the ground and put it around their shoulders.

Y/n had a questioning look on their face. Law answered their question smiling gently, "We still have to go on our date."

Y/n was in utter shock. "You still want to go on our date? Have you seen me?"

Law nodded smiling. "Yeah, I know. You're even more ravishing then I thought."

"Why don't you think I'm ugly like everyone else does?" Y/n asked unsurely. This had to be a joke. HAD to be.

"I don't know, maybe because they're all wrong?" Law rolled his eyes and sarcastically.

Y/n hugged Law tightly and put their head into the crook of his neck. Law hugged back almost immediately and put a kiss on their head.

"So... dinner?" Law asked in tune with his stomach growling.

Y/n just laughed into his neck. "Mhm. So that's the real reason you want to go to dinner, isn't it?" Y/n joked.

"Yep," Law said popping the 'p'. "But those guys are idiots. I think your skin is extraordinary and I'm gonna keep saying it until you believe it."

"Alright. Shall we?"

"Let's."

Idk if you guys care, but this was the outfit I picked out: https://pin.it/5xdI3he

15 notes · View notes

venusssssssssss · 3 years

Text

there's this awful girl at my work who i tried for years to stop talking to (and finally managed to do it in 2019). she still stalked me on every social media account and talked shit about me (ma'am you're in ur 30s we're not in highschool anymore). anyway now we work remote so i don't have to see her but she's still passive agressive and everyone hates her (literally everyone at work. our workplace is actually really nice, it's not toxic minus a few bosses but other than that the people are great). she talks shit about literally everyone at work and tells them all if they don't like their job they should quit (as if she's a boss or smth. she's nothing there). she's actually the one who always says she hates her job. she passes her responsability to everyone else all the time and always goes to our boss to say we don't do shit, when everytime she's during work hours all she does is watch kpop videos and write on her twitter lmfao (she did this when we were in the office as well like everyone knew about it). she's ugly inside and out and if you're skinny she says you're fatphobic (because she's fat. no one ever said anything about her weight though like no one had a problem with it????). if you get skinnier or start working out she says your fatphobic. like?? she has short bright pink hair and calls every girl with long natural hair ugly. like she does this to your face i mean :) she only wears black all the fucking time and says colors are ugly and ppl who dress in colors don’t know how to dress lmfaooooo

also she called me her "ex-bff". she was never my bff. she was just an abuser, like i should've listened to my parents and cut her off years ago, but i didn't know how and it took me a while to mature enough to understand that she's literally an abuser (i was a teen when i met her and she was an adult). ALSO she outed me at work. like it was never her place to out me, this is not a country where you can be out (she claims she's bi as well, but it's still not her place to out others) She acts super woke and calls everyone racist (she's white), she says she s a feminist but is2g i never met someone who hates women more (esp pretty women) and she's a gatekeeper, if i liked a movie she deemed bad, she would talk shit about it everyday (music as well). all in all you are allowed to only like what she likes, otherwise you are uncultured and stupid. i'm so happy i don't interact with her anymore. i hope we will worke remote forever. i don't want to hear her constant yelling. other than that, all she does at work is talk shit about others or talk about her kpop idols, that's it. she's constantly so negative about stuff as well. yikes, she's liek the only person i can say that i truly find gross (irl) and i think she's a narcissist and a sociopath

#she s s gross and ugly inside and out #and so narcisistic #she needs therapy tbh #and she needs to leave ppl tf alone #she s 33 and acting like she s 15 #just yikes

2 notes · View notes

lovelybarnes · 3 years

Text

reckless- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, platonic!sam wilson, platonic!natasha romanoff, platonic!steve rogers

warnings: mentions of injuries, descriptions of fighting, angry bucky, a horrible ending, i kind of really hate this

about: “the things i feel for her are unlike anything i’ve ever felt before.” for a sleepover!

i actually wrote another one with the same quote but i didn’t think it fit so i changed it (that one will be posted tomorrow or the day after so i can edit it)

you’re annoyingly reckless to a point where it gets dangerous.

he’s told you this a thousand times before but you don’t listen- aren’t listening at the moment.

he knows it’s ironic that he’s being reckless by not paying attention to what’s going on, too concentrated on you- even if you’ve told him countless times that you literally can’t die (to which he responds with a “you never know!” because, really do you?)- but he has a metal arm and sam, who’s been hovering around him like a vulture after noticing his lack of concentration.

before he can react to it, a slimy arm is promptly cut off by you, the blade you threw now back in your hands and stained green with the things’ blood. you scowl at it and shoot him a dirty look, “pay fucking attention!” you demand, shaking the weapon haphazardly to get the goo off. he can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth but rolls his eyes and obeys, knocking an ugly alien down and crushing its chest with his boot.

he can still hear your cocky remarks and giggles- yes, giggles, you giggle when you fight life threatening menaces- paired with the gross sounds of your knife impaling the aliens they’re fighting. it’s the only thing keeping him from practically babysitting you, a reassurance that you’re there, careless and impetuous, but alive and close.

suddenly, he can’t hear you, and he turns to what he quite possibly believes to be the most disgusting thing he’s seen in his life (and it’s been a long one, so far). you’re blue, covered in a slimy substance, and your face is so red, it’s beginning to look nearly purple with the cyan sheen over it. you screech abruptly, wiping at your face angrily and jumping at the thing that probably did that to you. he nearly feels pity for it. nearly, because, in your rage, you hadn’t even noticed the large gash along your shoulder. before he can go to you before you kill yourself, his metal arm feels like it’s being sucked, taking him with it, and he grunts. “what the fuck-” he manages, unsure of what he’s looking at, but trying to cut through the sticky arm attached to his own. you’re there in five seconds flat, still blue and still angry, which he notices makes the slicing through the appendage easier.

you seem to decide to stay with him after that, and he’s not sure if he’s offended because you don’t think he can take care of himself- which is ridiculous, since this only happened because he was taking care of you- or touched.

“god, i wish i had wanda’s powers. chaos magick works a lot faster than causing chaos,” you complain, trying to wipe away the blue sludge at the same time and wincing when it tugs at your injury. he is reminded of the shoulder wound he nearly got his arm ripped off for trying to warn you, and he stops your hand. “you’re bleeding, you should probably be a little more careful with this.” he motions to your arm, avoiding touching it.

you frown at him, “it’s fine, it’s just a little cut.” (it’s most certainly not a “little cut.”)

“y/n-”

you extend the hurt arm over him and flick your hands when you see an alien about to rip bucky’s head off, a grimace passing your face that he sees but you try to cover up anyways. “see? it hurts you, you need-”

“i just saved your life, would a hurt person be able to do that?” you cut him off, and he stares at you. noticing a green thing coming up behind you, he grabs your waist and moves you out of the way, shooting it with his gun and watching as it drops to the ground. “ow!” you protest, “you hurt my-” seeming to realize you’re about to prove him right, you shut up and roll your eyes. “you’re welcome,” bucky huffs, wiping away some of the blue stuff from your cheek.

your cheeks warm against his touch without your permission, and you turn away. bucky smirks at your reaction.

“shut up,” you grumble, extending your fingers and aiming at a group of the aliens ganging up on natasha. they freeze for the few seconds they’re under your control, and nat manages to take out two in the moment. the three left break out of the trance, turn to each other, and begin to fight. natasha makes eye contact with you in a form of thanks and starts to take the rest out. you hear a gun go off behind you and turn to see one of the things that sprayed you on the floor. bucky saved you again, great, it’s not like he’ll rub it in your face forever.

“you need to pay attention, what if i’m not here?” bucky scolds. “then never leave,” you flirt casually in response. with a few twirls of your finger, most of the aliens stop paying attention to your team and begin attacking their own teammates.

you don’t notice when one of the few unaffected beings picks up a discarded gun and shoots at you twice. bucky moves you away from a head shot, but one lands opposite to the bleeding slash on your shoulder, and the other hits your thigh.

“goddamnit, y/n, pay attention!” bucky growls, holding up your full weight when your adrenaline begins to run out and everything becomes blurry. “‘m fine,” you try to reassure, attempting to stand back on your wobbly legs. bucky doesn’t let you, shooting at as many aliens as he can with one gun. he turns to look at your state after he shoots most of them, allowing the others to take care of it while he tries to take care of you. his metal hand is touching the small device in his ear, telling the others the situation while his other arm holds you up. you might be delirious now, and your eyelids are becoming increasingly difficult to keep up. “hm, i’m not going to die, b’cky.” you tell him, noticing the increasing panic in his voice as he talks to steve. “stop saying that, how would you know if you haven’t died yet?”

his question is confusing for your foggy brain, so you decide to skip it, unknowingly making his worries worse. the blood running down your back isn’t stopping, and bucky stops for a second to lift you up completely, tucking his hand underneath your knees to carry you. at the tug at your thigh, you bite back a scream. bucky pretends not to notice; his hands are covered in a warm red. he’s trying his best to ignore it.

“don’t die,” bucky whispers again and again, making you frown, “how many times do i ‘ave to tell you i can’t die?”

“i’ll believe it when you don’t,” bucky mutters, and the blue sky turns to gray when he’s inside the quinjet. he sets you down on the medbay cot, looking lost as he calls out friday’s name. “yes, mister barnes?”

“y/n- uh-”

“do a scan on me and… and treat accordingly,” you interrupt. “scanning now,” friday obeys, and you turn to bucky. “by the time you figured it out i would have bled out.”

“that’s not funny, y/n,” bucky says seriously. you squeeze your eyes shut for a second, “calm down, i’ll be fine.” friday has enclosed you in some clear glass, red grids letting you know of your condition. “ooh, that’s bad,” you mumble, much to the dismay of your boyfriend. “what?” said boyfriend asks, and you wave him off as best you can- which means a pathetic bounce of your arm- and tell him to let friday do her thing. “we are not done here,” bucky instructs, but sits next to you and holds your hand. you can see his glossed eyes now, you wonder how you didn’t see them before.

“shouldn’t you be fighting?” you ask, a wave of exhaustion crashing over you. rest, your body begs. you’ll comply later. “they’re almost done, the chaos thing you did makes their job a lot easier.”

“‘s what i do,” you say breathily before falling asleep.

you’re still in the quinjet the next time you open your eyes, which lets you know it’s only been a few hours and you’re feeling better already. goddess healing, you think, looking around to see bucky’s hand still around yours. he looks worried, the hard lines usually softened by the sound of your voice as hard as you’ve ever seen them. you squeeze his fingers gently. “bucky,” you coo, “i’m not dying anymore.”

bucky turns to you immediately, squinting, “that’s not funny.” it’s like deja vu, but you’re not sure from where.

a vein on bucky’s neck throbs, and you’re aware that you’re pushing it, so you stop for a second, “i was just kidding, i-”

“no!-” bucky’s voice is near yelling, so he shuts his eyes for a moment, continuing in a lower voice, “you almost died, do you know how terrifying that is? you nearly bled out in my arms.” sam, nat and steve, who were waiting for you to wake up next to bucky, pause when he raises his voice. “bucky-” you start, softer now, trying to sit up. bucky stands, “listen to me!”

steve stands, beginning to put a hand on bucky’s shoulder, “buck-” he’s silenced with a cold look from bucky. sam gets to his feet too, telling steve and nat to give you both a minute. they do, after nat kisses your cheek like she always does when you get hurt. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed now, reaching for bucky, “bucky?”

“you don’t… you don’t know how much you scared me, y/n. you have to stop being so careless,” he says after a few seconds. you furrow your brows, “i’m not careless, i’m confident in my skills.”

“you are. you’re careless and reckless and hasty and i need you to not be,” he says harshly, you frown. “why? i’m fine and i’m always going to be-”

“you don’t- you don’t understand!-” bucky snaps. “then help me understand,” you implore. bucky closes his eyes tightly again, breathing in slowly. “the things... that i feel for you are unlike anything i have ever felt before, and i can’t- i can’t lose you, okay?”

“you’re not going to,” you assure, extending your arms towards him, noting the tiny ache in response. he walks over to you, letting you grab his jaw when he’s close, you run your fingers over his cheeks gently. “i’ll be more careful,” you promise. bucky nods, tucking his face into the dip of your neck. you run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, letting him squeeze your waist almost to reassure himself you’re actually there.

“hey,” you say quietly after a few moments, pressing tender kisses to bucky’s cheek, “sit down, i want to do something.” you stand, grabbing onto bucky’s arm when you stumble a little and promise him you’re fine and are taking it easy. you take out the first aid kit from one of the cabinets, setting it down next to bucky, opening it and taking out everything you need. you begin to clean his cuts, putting a pink hello kitty bandaid over one of his particularly bad ones. it’ll be gone within a day, but you can’t resist, and it makes him laugh.

you hum while you dab at a small scratch next to his eye, and he chuckles lowly, you look up at him, “what?”

“you’re still a little blue.”

508 notes · View notes

jlalafics · 3 years

Text

"Photograph"-a Royal!Everlark story

This was inspired by this prompt from @writing-prompt-s:

When you were seven, you held a fake wedding by the swings with a kid you met at the park. You never saw your childhood “spouse” again after that day. Today you received a letter summoning you to a foreign country… where your wedding to the heir to the throne twenty years ago is seen as valid.

This is totally unedited. Thank you to @sparklingdust4612 for bringing this prompt to my attention. Looking forward to everyone else's interpretations along with this one and the story by @jhsgf82!

I actually have more of this but I thought I'd show y'all a little bit of my interpretation of the above prompt.

****

We keep this love in a photograph

We made these memories for ourselves

Where our eyes are never closing

Hearts are never broken

And time's forever frozen, still…

-Ed Sheeran

Photograph

Katniss Everdeen loved building castles.

In the massive sandbox, she packed another bunch of sand into her bucket before placing it upside down to set. While waiting, Katniss imagined how she would decorate the inside of her palace, a delighted smile growing on her face as she thought of the possibilities.

First, the walls would all be yellow. Not the ugly yellow that looked like snot—but yellow like Prim’s, her baby sister, golden locks.

Yellow meant hope: that’s what Daddy always said.

Knocking on the sides of the bucket to loosen the sand like Mommy showed her, Katniss slowly lifted it revealing a perfect tower for her castle.

“Yes!” she hollered, jumping up in excitement.

Her eyes went to Mommy who was sitting on the bench across the way. She was talking to a pretty, yellow-haired woman with a big tummy. Prim was asleep in her stroller, her binky hanging from her mouth.

“Mommy!” Katniss rushed over, stopping just a scant from toppling over on the concrete. “Look! I’ve made the perfect tower!”

Her mother smiled proudly.

“That’s wonderful, Katniss.” She turned to the woman next to her. “My Katniss is always building and dreaming on how to make her perfect home. Her teachers tell me that she has such a creative mind for a seven-year-old.”

“How absolutely charming,” the woman responded kindly, a smile on her pink lips.

Katniss tilted her head at the sound of her voice. There was something different about the way the lady talked—the dips of it sounded strange—but still nice.

“Why do you sound like that?” she asked bluntly.

Her Mommy frowned. “Katniss Everdeen! Please apologize!” She looked to the woman once more. “I’m so sorry—”

“That’s perfectly alright,” the lady assured her. The pretty woman turned to Katniss. “I have a little bit of an accent because of where I’m from, that’s why my voice sounds different.”

Katniss nodded. “Okay, but it does sound nice…like a song!” She smiled. “What’s your name?”

The woman glowed like an angel. “My name is Marguerite.”

“Hello Miss Marguerite.” Katniss looked to where her sandcastle waited. “I better go before someone takes my stuff! Bye!”

Throwing a wave at the woman, she plopped back down onto her space in the sandbox ready to add some detailing to her newest tower—

The foot crushing her tower landed straight in the middle of it creating a space between each side.

Katniss fumed and her eyes went up to the blond-haired boy with the snooty face.

She stood, her hand slamming into his chest. “Hey! You destroyed my castle!”

The boy stared at her in shock. “No one ever touches me!”

“Until now—”

Katniss was suddenly blocked by another boy, tall and dark-skinned.

“No one touches his royal highness,” he declared, and the blond boy stuck his tongue at her.

Another boy, this one dark-haired and sharp-eyed, approached.

“Prince Peeta has decided that you will be his bride,” he stated with a scowl.

Katniss made a face, crossing her arms to show them how disgusting that sounded. “Gross.”

The so-called Prince Peeta walked over to her.

“As my bride, you can make as many sandcastles as you want,” he explained. “I’ll build a bigger sandbox than this for you!”

Something inside zinged at the thought. “Really?”

The boy shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Katniss eyed him suspiciously. “Why would you want to marry me anyway?”

Peeta shifted in his stance, the confidence in his blue eyes suddenly wavering. “I like your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

A rise of pink colored his cheeks. “They’re soft…and pretty.”

That had been it for her.

On that warm afternoon, by the swings of District 12’s only playground, Katniss Everdeen married the so-called Prince Peeta.

“You may now kiss the bride,” Gale, the dark-haired boy, said. He looked at Peeta, a teasing smile on his face. “Go on—kiss her!”

“Close your eyes,” Peeta told her.

Katniss, wearing her paper towel veil courtesy of the park’s public bathroom, did what he said and closed her eyes.

SPLAT!

She barely registered being shoved down into the muddy puddle.

Katniss looked up at the sneering boy, feeling the rise of anger in her body.

“That’s what you get for pushing me.”

++++++

Twenty years later…

“Katniss.” She looked up from laptop to find Prim at her open doorway. Her sister held out a Fed-Ex envelope. “This just came for you.”

Without even glancing at it, Katniss tossed the envelope on her bed, going back to the open page on her screen.

“Don’t you want to open it?” Prim stepped into the room and plopped onto the bed, picking the post up to examine it. “It looks important.”

“Probably one of those things saying that I’m eligible for another credit card.” Katniss frowned, sitting back, and staring at the blinking cursor. “I’m so stuck on this blog post!”

“Is this the one about kitchen flowers?” her sister asked, and she nodded. “You got some great pictures from Madge’s shop.”

“I know but my writing inspiration is zilch,” Katniss explained. “I need to get this done if I want to post by Mother’s Day.”

“Speaking of Mother’s Day, mom is wondering if you’re bringing anyone to Sunday dinner,” Prim informed her.

“I love our mother but lately every conversation we’ve had is either about my lack of a dating life or my withering eggs,” Katniss said. “Right now, I need to focus on getting more attention on the blog. It’s just gaining momentum!” She rested back and turned to her sister. “This is important to me.”

“I know,” Prim replied. “And you are good at it. I mean, look at what you’ve done to our apartment! To this room!”

Her sister’s bright blue eyes looked around the buttercream room, beautifully decorated with white-washed furniture. The console that her television sat atop was bought at a nearby thrift shop and refurbished by her. Katniss had sanded it down before putting a whitewash over it and adding lacquer to give it a more modern look.

In fact, most of the furniture in her and Prim’s apartment was completely refurbished by her. She had always had an eye for decorating and instead of going to a four-year college, Katniss had opted to go to design school.

Creating something new from what people considered junk gave her a special kind of thrill—almost akin to being in love.

At least that’s what she thought it might feel like.

“Whoa!”

Katniss whipped over to her sister—who was holding an unfolded paper in her hands.

She stood from her seat and went to Prim. “What?”

Wordlessly, Prim handed the piece to her—it was a letter.

The letter was on marbled paper, an elegant insignia atop it, and she could see that the elegant calligraphy was done by hand:

Dear Miss Everdeen,

You are hereby summoned to the kingdom of Panem to present yourself to His Royal Highness, King Peeta.

Photo documentation has validified that you are the Queen Consort to His Royal Highness.

Attached is my business card, please contact me to arrange your travel to Panem.

Respectfully,

The Rt. Hon. Effie Trinket

Private Secretary to His Royal Highness

“This is a joke!” Katniss tossed the letter onto her desk and laughed. “Photo documentation? There is no such thing—”

The laugh fell from her lips as Prim turned the FedEx envelope upside down and a single photo fell onto her bedspread.

“There’s a business card in here, too,” Prim told her carefully.

Walking over, Katniss could see that the photo was facedown.

Trembling, she picked the print up and read the elegant cursive atop it:

‘Peeta and his new bride, Katniss Everdeen!’

Next to the caption was a happy face; it was obvious that this statement was made in jest.

Turning the photograph, a wave of nausea hit seeing the image of her seven-year-old self, a paper towel veil atop her head, joining hands with a blond boy—

Prince Peeta.

Or to be more precise, His Royal Highness King Peeta of Panem.

#Everlark Fanfiction #Everlark #Royal!Peeta #Commoner!Katniss

174 notes · View notes

the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Mia Deserved Better: An Analysis of RE8's Themes/Symbolism

Foreword: I would like to thank @lepusrufus for posting about both Mia and Miranda, and at one point directly saying that Mia deserved better, which is a large part of what caused me to start examining her role in the canon story. Now, I will say that this post, like some of my previous explorations of Village (such as my attempt to determine Donna's age), will not be the best organized. My ADHD makes such things rather difficult for me. However, I have tried more than usual, and have broken up this "essay" into several distinct sections. Still, I am worried that my thoughts will not be as concise or coherent as they were inside my head.

Under read-more for length and spoilers for RE8: Village.

Introduction:

Village is, inarguably, about parenthood. Is it a horror game? Yes. Is it also science fiction? Also yes. But is it still, at its core, a story, and therefore contains imagery, symbolism, and themes? Yes. Now, you may be wondering what this has to do with Mia deserving better. My proposal is as follows: While Village is overall about parenthood, it is more about motherhood than fatherhood. Furthermore, Mia's background + actions from the previous game tie her story directly with Mother Miranda's, making their potential interactions massively important to the story... and could have served the theme beautifully. The missed potential in her involvement in the story is honestly a little bit absurd.

Now, let's examine each of the Four Lords + their sections, as the beginning of analyzing the game's theme.

Lady Dimitrescu + Castle:

Ah, perhaps the clearest (albeit unimportant) bits of theme within the whole game. We are immediately presented with another parent, with three daughters she loves very, very much. Initially they work as a team to capture Ethan, easily overpowering him. When they do split up, each still has dialogue regarding their family members. Each of the daughters expresses a desire to be like their mother/make their mother proud. Lady Dimitrescu herself gets very upset every time one of her daughters perishes, and delivers some important dialogue about this in her final confrontation with Ethan.

To paraphrase, Lady D says that Ethan has done something unforgiveable, caused damage that can never heal, and deserves to die before his daughter. That last part is interesting, in the sense that Lady D seems to believe that outlasting your own child is a fate so terrible that she would not wish it upon anyone, including the person who killed her daughters.

Throughout her dialogue and actions, Lady D serves as an important figure of a living mother. What do I mean by that? Well, the only other mothers we see in game are Mia and Miranda. The former doesn't show up until almost the end of the game (seeing as the "Mia" at the start is not actually the real Mia), while the latter does not have a living child, and her behavior has (presumably) changed quite a bit since that loss. As Ethan goes through Castle Dimitrescu, he watches (he causes) Lady D to go through what Miranda did all those decades ago. When we see her loss, when we experience her loss, it is something we connect with, even comparing it (as Lady D does) to Ethan's loss of Rose.

For the more visual side of symbolism, we can turn to Lady Dimitrescu herself. She is very tall, is visibly older than the majority of the Village cast, and has a fairly classic (old-school) motherly look. Everything about her reinforces her position as an example of a mother, especially when she's with her daughters and becomes such a strong figure of protection. Her height allows her to seem the caretaker for her children, even though they are scary/intimidating in their own right.

Donna Beneviento + Waterfall House:

Yes, the baby/fetus/monstrosity is part of this. No, it is not the only bit of thematic work in this section of the game.

To begin, you can find out that Donna is officially the adopted daughter of Mother Miranda. Her birth parents are dead, implied to be from especially tragic causes (more than is the norm when it comes to "orphan making"), and she has suffered greatly from it. We see that she has been seemingly neglected by Miranda, and is incredibly isolated. The tragedy of her loss, along with the consequences presented by it, are something to keep in mind further down the road, when we inevitably deal with Ethan's own death.

One of the consequences of the environment Donna was raised in is, arguably, her reliance on Angie. While interpretations of their exact relationship (aka how much control Donna actually has at any given point) vary, the two very clearly have something akin to a mother/daughter vibe. Alternatively an older sister/younger sister sort of thing. This shows in the way that Donna holds/carries Angie, as well as the contrast in their demeanors. Moreso, the fact that Donna gave a part of herself to create Angie is almost enough to make the symbolism nonnegotiable.

We also see that Donna has a strong understanding of family/family dynamics, through the way that she uses her powers to manipulate Ethan. She dissects his connections to Mia and Rose, taunts him with the lengths he's willing to go to save his child, then shows him a grotesque version of parenthood: The aforementioned fetus monster. Does the monster represent Ethan's fears, or Donna's?

What if the monster is how Donna sees herself, in some way, perhaps thinking that it's her fault her parents died? Bit of a stretch, but it's not a keystone of my theory, so I'm just throwing it out there. We could, however, go a step further and ask ourselves if Donna has noticed the way Miranda neglects her, and the fetus monster is how Donna thinks Miranda sees her. A baby, true, but grotesque, so terribly imperfect compared to her "real daughter" (Eva, obvs).

Regardless, the monster presents an ugly side of parenthood. It shows us the blood, the hunger (with the way it repeatedly attempts to swallow Ethan whole), the wailing. If Lady D shows us the love of parenthood, the bond, Donna in turn shows us the hate, the misery. Everything that one must endure to reap the rewards of family.

Lastly, we get one last bit of symbolism with Donna's death: We play a game with Angie. A childhood classic, hide and seek. Ethan chases her down repeatedly, stabbing away, seemingly only hurting the doll. But what happens when he kills Angie? It turns out that he killed Donna. You kill the child, you kill the parent. A reinforcement of the connection that comes with parenthood, along with another notch in Ethan's family-murdering belt (not saying that he's the "true antagonist" or anything, just keeping track for one of my later points).

Moreau + The Reservoir

Let's get the worst possibility out of the way: Moreau, weakest and sickest of the four lords, lives in a reservoir, where he is relatively safe. To defeat him, you have to drain the water, forcing him onto dry(ish) land. Paired with the main ideas of his section (which I will detail after this nightmare), one could theorize that he's meant to represent birth itself. Again, he's safe in his ("womb") water, and becomes vulnerable when he leaves (like a fragile newborn). Kinda gross, in my opinion, and also not a strong enough connection for me to care much about. It was merely an interesting (albeit horrifying) enough thought that I felt it warranted sharing.

Moving on to the big stuff with Moreau: He's a baby. Evidence: Whiny, has difficulty moving around, struggles to adapt to his growth, throws up a bunch, loves his mother very much, cries for his mother when he's in trouble, etc. Although Mother Miranda does not care for him, he clearly cares for her, and plays yet another role of an abandoned child (like Donna). Without Miranda there to protect him, he perishes terribly, crying out for someone who does not care to answer.

Hearing him cry out for Miranda, over and over, only for her to continue ignoring him is a key piece in the build-up to our confrontation between Ethan and Miranda. The game, in many ways, centers around the comparison between the two. In my humble opinion, Mia should have been involved in this comparison, as opposed to supplying the solution to the result of said comparison. Yes, I know that was a lot of words that don't mean much yet, but trust me, I'm getting there.

Heisenberg + The Factory

Ironically, of the four lords, Heisenberg is the most similar to Mother Miranda. In his massive factory, he is alone except for his numerous experiments, the results of decades of playing God. In comparison to Ethan + Mia, Heisenberg represents artificial parentage, or more accurately, the artificial creation of "life". While the others Lords also performed experiments, they used living subjects. Heisenberg instead chose to use corpses, which he then "brought back to life" with cybernetics + his powers, a somewhat futuristic version of Dr. Frankenstein.

Together, Miranda and him show a rotten side of parenthood (whereas Donna + Moreau showed us the uglier side of the children themselves). To put it simply, they are bad parents. They throw their "children"/experiments into the fray, uncaring, using them as pawns for their own greater gain. The most important part of this is that Heisenberg offers to "help" Ethan: By using Rose as a weapon. In his act of refusal, Ethan demonstrates one of several important distinctions between himself and Mother Miranda. Where she is willing to use her "children" (read: lives that she is responsible for) as tools, he is not.

Miscellaneous Symbolism/Imagery:

The old hag is one of my favorite parts of Village. She's seemingly nuts, has a crazy old lady laugh, wears bones that make soothing bone noises when she moves, and she draws lots of symbols in the dirt. If you look closely (I can provide screenshots if anyone desires, but it will take a bit of work to get them onto my computer), she's drawing one of the most iconic images in the titular village: The winged unborn. This symbol acts as the key you build up after every fight with a Lord, understandably called the Unborn Key (which turns into the Winged Unborn Key). Whether this counts as foreshadowing towards the hag's identity reveal is technically irrelevant, but I like to think it does.

In essence, you build up the key, this depiction of an infant, to progress in the game. The more wings it gains, the closer you are to your goal of rescuing your child.

The cadou itself is very clearly fetus-shaped. Furthermore, the only place within the human body that we know it ever gets implanted is in the "tummy" (thanks Moreau), aka roughly where someone's womb is/would be. Every infected person we see presumably had the Cadou implanted there (though I think it would be interesting if implanting it in different spots caused different mutations. of course, that is a discussion for another day). To become immortal, you have to "bear" a "child". Does it get more direct than that?

Mother Miranda gained her immortality in part for her grief at the loss of her child. She embodied the despair that Lady D spoke of, becoming an eternal source of anguish. Just as the loss of a child is a wound that lasts forever, so too would Miranda last forever (well, until Ethan comes along).

Mia is a loving mother, who puts up with the BSAA making her move across the world, deals with the complications of having a mold husband and mold baby, and has proved herself (see her section in RE7) to be an immense badass. Previously I had forgotten that, and even embarrassed myself in the comments of another person's post by implying she wasn't a tough, ass-kicking machine. Y'all remember feral Mia? People talk about "poor Ethan's arms", but sometimes we forget that Mia was one of the people who did a number on them. Furthermore, she's one of the only living people (from outside the village) to have any connections (pun intended) to Mother Miranda. They worked together, although possibly not directly, on Evelyn. If anyone in Village has a chance of really understanding Miranda's plight, or knowing the truth behind it, it would be Mia. Yet we don't see them interact a single time. Which leads me to the next section...

Conclusion On Theme + Missed Potential:

Okay, okay, so it's pretty obvious at this point that, as previously stated, the game's theme is parenthood. Every section has its symbolism, the story is very obviously about a man trying to rescue his daughter, etc, etc, but what's the point? Is there a lesson, or a more focused interpretation of the central theme? Let's take one last step back, and focus on something I've mentioned a few times now: The comparison between Ethan and Mother Miranda.

Recurring dialogue from Ethan, Alcina, and Mother Miranda all point towards the developers acknowledging that the characters are similar, but there's nowhere near as much conversation about it as I would like. Several times we have the antagonists ask Ethan how he's so willing to kill someone else's child, or prevent them from (essentially) doing what he's doing (aka saving his daughter). While Ethan responds with a mix of "well you started it" and "aghhh fuck-a-you, bitch", there's a much more solid, unspoken difference: Mother Miranda sends her underlings to kill, so that she may revive her daughter. Ethan kills (read: does the work himself) to get his daughter. The difference is much bigger, and more important, at the end of the game, when we realize just how far it goes. Ethan dies to save his daughter. Time and time again Mother Miranda has killed others for her work, but in the end she is stopped when someone willingly dies to stop her.

Where does Mia come in? Mia, the badass mother, the one who once worked alongside Mother Miranda, should have been the nail in the coffin. She is the one who survives, who lives on to raise Rose, she is the silent solution to Ethan's sacrifice. Miranda, you fool, what could you have accomplished if you had held onto your makeshift family? Through Mia (and Chris, to a lesser degree), his "loss" becomes a victory. There's a certain poetic justice that comes with Rose's full family being instrumental in saving her, when Miranda so readily spurned her own family.

Mia could have had an actual conversation with Miranda, their history giving the latter a reason to actually listen. I'm not saying that Miranda would have changed her mind/plans, but the conversation would have been a well-needed contrast to Ethan's "arggg what the fuck is happening, I only have two reactions to things. agg fuck you". Additionally, I feel that Mia (who was captured and had to endure who-knows-what) deserves the opportunity to be the one who points out Miranda's mistakes, who delivers the final "fuck you" to her. More than that, she's the one at the end who can say that hey, maybe she can understand some of what Miranda did. Was there anything her and Ethan wouldn't have done to save Rose? As much as Ethan is a foil to Miranda, Mia could (and should) have played a similar role.

When so much of the story and symbolism revolves around Miranda's experience as a mother, it only would have been fair to shine a light on her equivalent. Her better.

There's more I wanted to say/feel like I didn't properly get across, and I might add more to this at some point, but it's 5:40 AM right now, and I'm starting to feel like my brain is slowing down, so... Feel free to reblog/comment and add your own thoughts!

#mother miranda #mia winters #ethan winters #rosemary winters #resident evil: village #re8 village #god what do I tag this as

97 notes · View notes

yumihoe · 3 years

Text

Housepet

Fandom - Kakeguri.

Pairing - Yandere Yumeko Jabami x Yandere Mary Satome x fem reader.

Summary: As a housepet pet you are required to serve your superiors.

Content warnings- Yandere themes, oral fixation, aged up characters, noncon-rape, Sexual slavery kinda, femdom, abuse of power, the reader gets slapped around/ mentions of the reader getting hurt in the past, degradation, face riding -let me know if I missed anything-mdni.

Word count -1.5k

Your neck was aching, collar heavy around it. The feeling of the leather suffocating, chaffing, and burning like a brand.

A Brand on livestock, A brand on an animal.

You aren't an animal. At least at one point, you hadn't been.

Now you were... what were you?

Yumeko says you're her favorite toy, always so sweet-so kind with her praises, even when she's bringing the belt down on your backside for the tenth time. " Such a good kitty, taking your lashes so well." But mary insist you're a dirty whore, " Why do you insist on babying the little bitch for doing what filthy whores like her are supposed to do"

Even now as Mary wraps another tie around your ankle you can't quite wrap your head around what you are.

Sharp pain from how tight the ties are rings through your wrist and makes you jerk away, earning you a hard slap to the face.

" Hold fucking still waste." Mary hisses. Yumeko jabs lightly at mary with her elbow " Why are you always so mean to her?" Yumeko sighs, rubbing at your thigh. Her voice sounds sincere, caring even but You know all too well that she's only pretending to care, pretending to scold mary for being rough with you.

" The little shit wouldn't have to get tied down if she hadn't had fucking kicked me last time." Mary snaps, yellow eyes glaring at the brunette.

You hadn't meant to kick Mary, but to be fair you had told her that you couldn't handle another orgasm, Yet she persisted, keeping the vibrator on your clit, sneering about how " little shits like you need to serve your purpose." and " If you know whats fucking good for you you'll come again." Your're tenth-or something orgasm had wrecked through your body, sending spasms and jerks- spasms and jerks that had caused your leg to launch out, smacking Mary in her nose.

You had already been punished, of course, mary had made sure to bruise your ass raw, make sure you could sit regularly for weeks, but she still insisted on tying you down before they went on with their regular routine anyways.

Yumeko busies herself unbuttoning her school blouse and stepping out of her skirt

It's not right, twisted how stunning Yumeko's Body is.

Sick people who keep other human beings tied down in empty classrooms shouldn't be allowed to so....beautiful. Sharp collarbone above perfectly round breast that melt into a sharply defined waist. No matter how much you despised Yumeko Jabami you would never be able to call her ugly. And the fact sickened you.

" Aw, you're drooling, am I that pretty kitten," Yumeko giggles, leaning down to smooth your hair back. " Does my good little kitty want something to plug up that sweet little mouth?"

Your stomach tightens knowing exactly what it is she's hinting at. "Open wide for me kitty." Yumeko coos, pushing two of her digits inside your mouth. You know better than to bite down on her fingers, the first and last time you had, mary broke one of yours, and you hadn't been able to bend it correctly for months. So you let the long, slender digits slide past your lips and suck, to avoid punishment.

Mary snorts as she fastens the last tie on your ankle, sitting up. "Ts really fucking gross how you stick your fingers in the little shits mouth like that, how the fuck do you get off on that?" She sneers Yumeko just smiles, pushing her fingers deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat triggering your gag reflex. "If that little fuckface pukes, I swear to fucking god I'll kill you Yumeko." Mary frowns

" 'Sides, there are better ways to put her mouth to use anyways," she mumbles. Yumeko lets out a boisterous laugh " If you wanted a turn with kitty's mouth, all you needed was to say so." Mary doesn't answer, instead motions for Yumeko to take her fingers out of your mouth, to which Yumeko obliges with a sad whimper, letting her now slimy digits drop from your mouth.

"Now, you'll put that whinny little mouth to good use," Mary smirks, positioning herself to hover over your face. You start up your usual protest, about how you don't want her to ride your face, that you'd rather just eat her out on your stomach to avoid her suffocating you, but your pleading is in vain, Mary lets her legs give out anyway, pushing her cunt directly onto your mouth.

You almost panic at the sudden loss of air, but you know better to try and struggle against her, it only ever results in some form of physical assault. And it's not like you could push her off of you, in your current state. So you let your tongue loll out of your mouth to take a swipe at her folds.

" Aww, you're being so good kitten, you deserve an award." Yumeko sings.

" She's not-Fuck- Not being fucking good, the little fucking shit's just doing what housepets are supposed to do." Mary whimpers out, thighs quivering around your head.

Houspet.

Hearing Her say the word- the title is almost foreign since they often call you anything but. Kitten, Toy, Little shit, but still it's a reminder of what you are now. No longer human, and below any animal. A Housepet. A failed gambler.

It all comes pouring back to you like rain, everything you had been, what you were before.

Master gambler, Highroller extraordinaire. You had been on top of the world, winning game after game and match after match, well on your way to becoming an esteemed member of the student body council. Maybe even president of the student body council until-Until you had lost.

It had all happened so fast, you were so certain- still certain that you should've won that game, that it had been rigged and you deserved a rematch - a recount, anything- yet your cries of foul-play had fallen on death ears. Your status as a high-ranking gambler had been revoked, replaced with that of a disgusting, low-ranking rat.

The transition had been slow, yet persistent. The looks of fear and admiration people once gazed at you with turned to disgust and superiority. Where once people had flocked to be around you they had started to avoid you like the plague.

The last and final declaration of your dehumanization had come in the form of a notice from the student council, a notice stating that if you couldn't repay your debt from losing, you would be demoted to the lowest student ranking at Hyakkaou Private Academy. You had begged, on your knees almost for a second chance, but the president had refused, issuing you a collar.

Yumeko and Mary had cornered you a few days after that, forced you to become their personal little plaything.

"No point in resisting, shitty little housepets like you go missing all the time, no one would look for you." Mary had whispered

Yumeko jerking your thighs further apart pulls you out of your moment of self-realization.

"You're doing so well for Mary kitten, I just can't help but reward you." she beams.

Yumeko's rewards always leave you overstimulated and crying, so you don't feel any relief at the mention of receiving one. Still despite how you tense up, clearly uncomfortable with her rewarding you, Yumeko slots herself between your legs, flicking a vibrator on and pressing it against your clit. The sudden sensation causing your hips to buck up, much to the distaste of Mary.

" Be fucking still" the blonde hisses, " Just fucked up my c-climax."

You don't bother to object or tell mary that Yumeko's the reason you moved so suddenly, you know she won't care either way. "s' fucking close" Mary whimpers grinding down against your tongue harder. Her hips stutter, once, twice, before she's shaking, squirting all over your face. You want to gag, cry out, push her off you, but you know you can't, so you let her ride the rest of her orgasm off on your face, sticky, sweaty thighs clamped around your head.

Mary finishes after what seems like forever, standing up on quivering legs, looking around for her clothes.

" Were gonna be fucking late for our next class, fucking c'mon Yumeko" She sighs.

Yumeko pouts from between your legs, two fingers buried in your swollen cunt. "But I didn't get to finish kittens reward, she's been so good we can't just leave her all pent up like this."

you can almost hear Mary roll her eyes." If I have to fucking drag you outta here by your fucking hair Yume-

"Fine, Fine" Yumeko stands up, cutting her off. She slowly reassembles her uniform, grumbling almost like a child who just had a toy ripped away from her.

"Sides you can come back and finish the little shit off after school" Mary shouts, already halfway out of the door. Yumeko smiles down out you, winking before following her friend into the hall.

Long after they've left you find yourself sobbing, wishing they had untied you before going back to class.

A sick feeling rises in your stomach as you realize you're not crying about being tied up because the position you're in is uncomfortable or even because you might have been able to find a way out if they had let you free of the ties.

You're crying because You wished they had let you go before leaving so you could stuff a finger into your aching cunt.

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

I really want Yumeko and mary to bully me. 😪

Anyways, as usual, if you enjoyed this don't be afraid to reblog!

#yandere yumeko #mary satome #yandere mary #yandere kakeguri yan #yandere x reader #femyandere #kakeguri mary #tw: noncon #tw:sexual slavery #kakeguri x reader #mary satome x reader #yumihoewrites #tw: degradation

390 notes · View notes

the-firebird69 · 1 year

Text

So you put a hit on you while you're on trial cuz you're his boobs smiling cuz he says stuff and they're going to Holocaust you anyways cuz you're dumb enough not to listen and they are holocausting you dumbass and they're purging you and we have to be everywhere now and we're growing fast not because of you and there's an incinerator out there and I don't want you in the house just sit there threatening our son cuz you're a dope addict and you tried coming back here twice and they grabbed you and beat you up and took your people down and now you're small in stature and you're going to be teeny the rest of your life you saw you walk by and you look like a Jew he said don't call me that even though I look like one. So sick of you people you can be wrong and rude to people all the time and even if I don't respond to start bothering me and bothering me and bothering me not kill people like you without trying wholesale. So you say s*** like that I have you killed you're dead. So BG started talking back so you said you're dead you're so stupid and he died last night and his people died I'm going after tons of them cuz they're always oppressing him and they're these little a****** imps who Don't do anything but still stuff, and are too dangerous to keep around they won't half gone in Florida they hear this they're going to try and get here and others will kill them cuz they're so obnoxious. I think it's funny you're so stupid her son says about bG and he says I can't stand anywhere I think I'm dumb as hell, set up a smart the whole time once we take stuff. And yeah I'm an ugly person inside and out and bG is admitting to crimes and people kill people for that bG they need those things. Looks around says I don't see it you saw it on video shut your face no you don't know how to do that you little f****** puppy you're a little doggy. You're an animal and you're stupid and you're going to be put down cuz he should you know why cuz you're dumb. So he's laughing saying we're all pretty stupid here and making huge mistakes with him cuz all day long all night long everyday tell you she's been had a plan and you're supposed to make money instead he sat there saying social security so what you say you're so Superior doesn't even dumber meat right there is some sister what a s******* seriously you can turn around doing nothing after discovering what was down below and now you're doing less than nothing except for those up there but here you are f****** around with me like some sort of s*** head no you don't get stuff from doing that this wipe you out will extend it's a matter of fact that's a good idea wipe your forces out up there and you'll have to go up there to infill where you got wiped out and to make them pay for it n***** thanks for pissing me off by the way you see how it works right. So we're going to do that to his group in a couple others like trumpsters they don't deserve to fight for it or to die in combat Max don't care either it's jamming up the furnace.

So proceeding with that and other plans like it to get rid of idiots who are stupid and fired our son gross and like Daniel and Mike especially Trump. Rick Cohen did it but he was sick and he actually was they're making it worse they wouldn't let him heal his back is against the wall and the crew in San Diego upheld the decision to let him go and that was our son said what are you people with stupid you don't want to support him and you are forced me out there's no backbone and no willpower and no understanding of what you're doing yeah so they did it anyways they told him not to come back at them. Well don't let me off then. As well said you get a rule this I said you're a genius it's like I have to who's running this company anyways it's a piece of s*** you laid off your good people and you keep on people who are The mooches. Look around said oh. Her too we're surrounded by idiots now. I don't have any compassion for your kind I certainly don't have any for them who didn't defend you and let you get inundated so you can do a damn f****** thing called work and I don't want to work anyways for you guys you can say all you want and get yourself in more trouble with a group can do a lot more than that stupid crap this idiot in the future next door is hitting the head five times a day and he goes wow I said I understand you're just going to make you sick and what can you do it shouldn't be doing that and it's like an amazing Revelation that someone stupid enough to do that cuz it goes against what Mac was so he must know who it is I know who it is no it's not totally dumbass but he's helping she's a freaking fart now he's suicidal so tommy f. Request you never provide him with any engineering ever you get your solid retards and other Max not to do it either or stuff cuz he's just taking everything so he didn't said you have to be kidding me to us and it said what are you talking about I said he's telling me he wants me to do that after leaving and because he's hitting me we meant was you think I won't do that cuz I know who it is if it is him so he goes after him and finds out he's taking all the stuff and he's trying to do it up there and threatening you to do it and all sorts of stuff it's banging on things just leaving a senses thanks for all the help that's going to come for you so Joe turned it off that's true.

It was important moment because he went for him to be line to figure it out and he figured it out his hostile and mean without his provocation and started messing with her son big time so my son's in the kitchen like get out of the way I have to get something to eat because you'll have to wait and said no I won't I said I'll just call the health department and so he started saying something and he was get out of my f****** way and he did you know why it's because he's afraid to get hit by him he had to show people what he could do and they don't want to mess with him and the clones were messing around with our son they thought secretly he goes there's a whole bunch of me and you're sitting there messing with me and killing you I just stop messing with you you idiots they tried to and they couldn't help it. Tons of them died we just kept killing them it's like this I really understand it I really do I get it you're stupid and you can't stop yourself so you're going to be dead you can't understand that you shouldn't listen to it and you can't even listen to it and you start driving and threatening and you end up dead should I understand it I need it to happen s*** head. Is this very insulting behavior you like the same a****** kind of a****** goes up to a gorilla and starts pestering him cuz they have no f****** clue you're going to get bud.

Thor Freya her son said the last part oh boy what a doozy this little s*** had Tommy f is what a f** he's a huge bag and his son's not gay at all it doesn't get it

It's a huge problem that Tommy f is a massive f** even tell him he's dead you haven't killed and stuff he comes back like some sort of homo and Trump is doing it too I wonder what the hell her problem is you see them next door doing stupid gay stuff and tell him he's killing you because you're gay and doesn't get it. At all mostly so go down from today and we can hear this guy Tommy f yelling I don't want to hear about the past and how they can change it because we're getting beaten in the future and he knows that stuff a little. But you act like a retard and you shouldn't be announcing it you people are so dumb you're failures so they're going to go to the pit one way or the other I can't stand them anymore.

Mac

The second group is moving up there in the first one's gone they wiped each other out he's a big groups and yeah they're the main Battle Force and they're moving up this is their technique okay, there's a lot of laughter from the Max and foreigners and us because it is their technique can we hate them for it they're approaching each other's lines and they're firing that madness and out of hatred. Hatred which is no surprise themselves around them has to tell them off you're a piss poor person BG you're an a****** and you don't do s*** okay you have no businesses we're taking your money cuz you're such an a******. And f*** you by the way you're running our son around for years cuz you're a loser you wrecked your realm too many ways and she's been trying to stop you for real. She said you're a blasphemous cow you're getting them holocausted now and a big part of the blame and Trump whatever loser hole that's a much bigger loser but you're a loser he's a huge loser before he lost that's a good one is losing before he lost never seen that before. Says you you got to see it again cuz Trump says it's going to do it again probably right now cuz we can't tolerate you so eliminating his forces that are on the pits and everybody else is pitching in now and BG because they're too whining assholes and they're sending more up there. They're actually wiping their caravans out. It's about time. And they're going to be gone shortly can't stand these morons it's kind of a theory if you have these idiots near him you more lock won't win anything this trumpsters BG and there's a couple other idiot groups. Bja looks at it irdrs them out and of here

Mac says wow does the same.

It should change it with those two groups doing it it doesn't do something very wrong or they have power somewhere they should get to the bottom of it right now Trump is screaming it's the rigging, and a son says you don't even know if it's working yet and it's appalled at what he hears and then he's not.

The second group is half gone and most of the trumpsters are gone from the upper Midwest and BG company. They're trying to get up there with caravans and they're getting wiped out globally and trumpsters are losing all their territory right now and then the cities people are seeking them out for money they went after they're higher ups and there's only a small amount of money probably 1/10 of it and they saw Trump taking tons of it we're going after him mvg and bjA knows. And the money is broken out they found it with Trump about 90% of it and bG is small so it's a ton of money in a small place. I'm getting Hera's order to bring BG down to zero to Extinction because of responses and we're going to do that. And she is a huge b**** and they're going down now and they're being sought globally and we're going after them too because we need the money we are obeying the hit and we pretty went out there on trumpsters.

Thor Freya

I'm going after the money and his people are going after it but we're going after you Bg not his people cuz they don't have the money and you Trump cuz they don't have the money they're starting to go after you and they haven't been so what's your point

Mac

My point is this nobody can go after us for our money and everyone is including this kid so I'll have to sit here and prove it and tell everybody that we have the money it's a beautiful thing that we're doing to ourselves it says it too you won't shut your mouth your little girls talking and talking and we continue to do it now it's going to be over and I said I'm going after him and I mean it and he says you're threatening for stuff that you have to leave your possession at this time it's turned around and you're doing it and you will lose and people noticed it you little queer he says to me so I suddenly get something I'm forcing it to happen so what

Trump

So mine take your money that's what s*******

Zues it's true too we have a huge force and you're very insulting so we're going to take you down and save face and take a lot of money so we have control over it

Hera including yours cheeseman that you built out of the government which is huge it's almost as much as Trump has so let's just stingy and Mr stupid you're so dumb and gay and retarded we're going to have most of your money today

0 notes

sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

Text

SUMMER OF WHUMP - DAY 4 - ABANDONED

Mind the huge cw. Is mostly just discussing it, but still.

CW: Insinuated no-con; past-abuse; relieving past trauma; abandonment; very low self esteem; humiliation; accidental triggering; bait dog; whipping; starvation; shoved in luggage bag; bitten by mice; gross food; claustrophobia; burns; no-con drugging; no-con touching; mentioned amputation; pet whump; multiple whumpers; human trafficking; muzzle; starvation; neglect; manhandling; cruel/intimate/neglectful whumpers;

“H-hello and welcome to BB’s and Pastel’s show!” ...Pastel turned the octopus plush around as BB turned the camera on. It went from a pink, smiley octopus, to it’s frowning gray insides. Pastel pulled the blankets over his head, leaving only his eyes out “...I’ll be your host, BB, and this is my assistant, Mr.Tonsils!”

BB lifts Mr.Tonsils in front of the camera, waiving his little furry paws so he can say hello to their audience. They pick up the camera, and take it to the bed with Pastel, capturing his pretty pink-ish eyes.

“C-come on Pastel! Say hi!”

Pastel shifts slightly under the blanket.

“I’m… Not a fan of cameras, BB'' his voice is just a whisper, as he twists the blanket. BB thinks he is kneeling “...I’ll just… be your audience today, okay?”

“O-oH! Sorry!” BB stepped away. That was right. Pastel didn’t have good memories about that. BB pointed it away, making sure only they and Mr.Tonsils were on frame. Pastel seemed to relax, even sitting back and lowering his blanket cocoon “...So, due to technical issues, Pastel won’t be joining us tonight. But that 's okay. BB and Mr.Tonsils are here to entertain you!”

BB smiled, making sure to show the missing little teeth. Just like Blue. Just like Blue… before, at least.

“...Well, for tonight’s show me and Mr.Tonsils prepared a top 15 review!” BB wasn’t sure if it really classified as such. But it sure sounded nice “BB will be going over all of our old homes!”

They noticed as Pastel frowned, suddenly changing their expression, way more alert. BB only felt more excited. If Pastel was paying attention, it clearly meant the topic of the video was interesting! Audiences would love it! Even… Even if this was never going to be aired. BB could picture the audiences!

...With a deep breath, they braced themselves and started. They had prepared for this. They could do it.

“...BB’s begun it’s life like us all, in b-between white walls and tiled floors of the training grounds. They were worthless and ugly and dumb, BB’s smile never charmed anyone! It took a long time in the store before BB got home. It was and old lady that said BB was so ugly that it hurt, and dumb as a door, but worked well enough to, to scrub her floor” BB smiled, remembering the cozy attic, where they made their first friends, among piles of boxes that compiled their first owner’s life. Long nights they spent alone there, digging through piles of pictures, trying to piece together what a human life was like. Nonsense, it was, because it just filled BB’s head with a lot of silly thoughts. They lifted Mr.Tonsils for the camera “...BB worked the day and spent the night locked away. In the house’s attic, BB made their first friends. They were Mr.Tonsils crowd, a family of mice, and BB befriended them all, even if they’d bite BB’s feet while it was trying to sleep! BB loved the house, their first owner, and e-every single mouse!”

BB hugged Mr.Tonsil, swinging him around. Pastel was biting his lip, pulling a thread out of the blanket. Good! He was enjoying the story! And BB felt like they were doing good, too. Better than they did at any of their homes.

“...First owner got tired of BB because the stupid Pet let her cat flee! All BB wanted to do was help and clean, but the cat saw their chance and ran away. First owner took BB to a store with a mean looking clerk. They agreed BB was ‘So ugly it fucking hurt’, hoping BB would only stay a few days and them someone would want them” BB rubbed their hand together. That didn’t count as an owner, did it? It was only temporary, in nature. Not that owners lasted very long “BB was at the store for almost a full month, during which they got to eat, sleep and there was no work. BB wanted to make friends with other pets in cages, but they never stayed for long, after all - good pets get good homes!”

...BB was still upset about the store. All of those Pets had looked so nice, so much better than they are… And they never tried to talk to BB. They were all scared they’d be beaten down if they tried, but never were. BB was the only worthless one, that got the punishments… for everyone!

“...BB was bought by creepy looking guy who stuffed BB inside a cage and on a plane and was flown away” BB gestured with their hand, copying the movements of a plane. They had to be on the chair, so it would look nice on video, but otherwise, they would have liked to run around with their arms opened “...Creepy man named BB Bait. They were a teaser for a larger, angrier Pet named Spike, who had on BB a nice punching bag who couldn’t put up a fight. They were nice to BB and even a friend, but scary and cruel when the Master decided they needed to beat them. So BB was Spike’s chew toy, but when they were nice… BB was always filled with joy!”

...They closed their eyes for a second. Those two lives were merged together. One of them had been so short, they could barely remember the second dog.

“...After Spike got tired, BB was sold again, to be another dog's punchbag. And he was the third friend BB had! He refused to hurt BB, would even cuddle them to sleep, and then I was severly punished… For making the Master's dog weak. It was the first time BB tasted a whip, and with dark bruises on its face, BB was sold again”

...They stood in that second store for a week. With no food, and no sleep. They were dirty, and cheap, not worthy of caring for.

“The next Master had BB as furniture for his house. All he did was snap his fingers and that was BB’s call. It would crawl and hold things very still and keep his glass fill, he would rest his feet over BB. If it got boring the cane was always on hand, he could crack in on BB’s back and get it all shades of purple and black. BB didn’t sleep there much at all, it had to stand still behind his bed, all night long holding a water jar upon a tray, in a perfect 90° degree, or there was always hell to pay” BB touched their arm, absentmindedly, a small scar on their elbow where bone had poke through “But BB was ugly furniture, bad and broke away, when Master tried to sit over its back one sad summer day. BB tumbled to the side, knocking Master to the floor. BB got a broken arm and was kicked out of the door!”

“...The next Master that took me in was cruel and harsh, with unusual punishments that left some scars: fingers pulled back until they snapped, weights to BB’s feet, heavy chains and painful strains and the worst - the oven’s flame” BB tilted their head. That Master, too, had scars. They didn’t know how she had gotten them, it was not it’s place to ask. They… They were happy to leave that one “...BB was then lost in a card game, and doesn’t remember much at all. Pills made BB sweet and kind and small. What BB doesn’t get is that they never needed pills - they would never disobey, even if put through awful, lingering pain, they’d love Master all the same.”

...Hazy. Foggy memories. Hands over them, and brushing their cheeks, and so much drool because they were never cohesive enough to form words or move. Blinking white lights, whispered little things that returned to them in dreams.

“...When BB was sober again, they found themselves in a shed, where they were always so alone. The Master was a mountain who only came at night to beat BB down. The days went by slowly, loneliness crushing down, it was dark and cold and hungry, and there were spiders all around“ BB stopped their speech for a moment. This next part was something… that still haunted them. They had done… awful, awful things. They covered Mr.Tonsils' ears. They were afraid of what he would think “...BB, on that shed, made things it would rather forget. Just like the Master forgot BB had to fed! BB might have eaten a few of Tonsil's friends, please don’t let him know, is just BB’s stomach hurt so much and it was the only thing that could stop the growl”

BB releases Mr.Tonsil’s ears, hearing a gasp from Pastel. They turn and smile, but his face is… Pale, horrified. BB shrugs. Pastel always worries faaaar too much. Next one… Made BB feel nostalgic.

“Next… Was the trucker! He liked BB a whole lot, and let BB on the bed and the passenger’s seat! He and BB traveled a lot, seeing magic and beautiful places. BB spoke on the radio, and… And… Had a name! Was called Oreos...” They messed up their rhymes. This… This wasn’t how it was supposed to go “...BB was… Was happy then. His spouse didn’t like me, and… And behind his back, gave me away”

BB’s nails sunk on their arms, as they hug themselves. They… missed those days. It was good, good nostalgia, but what followed made them sick. They had just learned how big and beautiful the world was…

“Next Master… Stuffed BB into a bag, small and stinky with heavy leather smell, with no room to move at all, so much BB’s limbs collapsed when it was finally left out. It travelled around so much, but BB never got to see outside. It was let out during the night to be with Master, and shoved back on the bag once he was satisfied” BB shook their head, as if that would send the memories away. They hated it, hated that bag so, so much. Terrible, suffocating and endlessly boring and aching. And worse… that’s when they lost their name Oreos. They had loved that life. They truly had. “It didn’t matter much, BB was soon thrown away again. Unlovable and worthless, no one could stand BB for much longer either way. BB was sold and sold, always on their way. Next Master was confusing – gave BB many orders and functions, then beat BB down for following the instructions! They likes to trick BB, make plenty of cruel jokes, BB was just a dumb dog, one they only named Mutt!”

...They smiled then. The next one was also nice. His name was Wolfgang, but he was not a wolf. Not that BB could remember.

“And BB’s following owner sold stuff door to door! Saw BB – or Mutt then – and thought they were good charms! BB helped with the sales, being all cute and sweet, and Master was happy at first, but eventually… Sold me!”

And the next Master was…

BB shivered. This one… Hurt a lot. A whole fucking lot. It had been one of the longest lasting homes they had. It had changed the way they saw and thought of themselves forever. It was where they became BB. Bootleg Blue. Fake, useless, worthless.

“…Next was Owner Alvin, who BB loved so, so, so much. He said he would always care for BB… if BB could be someone else. BB had never ever been loved, and the feeling was so gentle and sweet! BB finally understood why no one else had loved it, and what it needed to do so that it would. Blue, a pet who had videos and fame, who had scars BB didn’t have… But I wanted to gain! BB left their teeth rot, BB scarred their own face, Master got angry – Bad BB, bad…” No, no, no. They couldn’t start to lament now. Not when they had gone so far on the video, already, and trough some of the hardest part “Alvin gave BB a room with a plain white dresser, four pairs of clothes and double of socks! BB knew them all by heart and cherished them, BB loved Alvin, loved him, loved him so, so, so much.

But …Alvin wanted BB to be Blue, but wouldn’t tolerate it when BB got the knife and tried to make the change. BB watched the videos on repeat, hundreds, thousands of hours on end, BB could cite them by head!

But BB wasn’t Blue, and can never be. BB is unworthy, and no one could love me. BB was shoved in a car and Owner broke his promise – he decided not to keep me, he, he, h-he… He, he…”

BB closes their eyes, bites back a sob. They are almost done now, and even if they completely messed up the last part…. they can push through! They can still make a nice video… Maybe the audience will like that they can be a little emotive?

“...Shoved BB in a car, drove them to a dead end. Left them alone on the streets to fend for themselves. BB stayed there alone and scared and sad, hoping someone would come… Or that somehow, their pain would end. And then Paul and Reina appeared, finding the ugly pet on the streets. Reina said BB did look like Blue! So she wanted, she wanted BB too!” BB smiled a little. Reina was pretty. She gave me good headpats… But BB didn’t miss them a lot. Paul wasn’t so nice “Paul knew BB was worthless, but Reina still wanted BB. BB was taken to their house and for a short span of time, BB was pampered, happy and loved, an illusion that didn’t last. They figured BB was fun to hurt and start to get their way – not that BB cared, loved them all the same”

They turned around for a second, smiling at Pastel. This was something they’d truly love to talk about, for once.

“But the best part was that BB made a friend when living at their place. Pastel was his name! Pastel held BB and told me it would be okay. BB didn’t have to be Blue – they loved me either way. Pastel took punishment and tried to keep Master’s away. BB cuddled them to sleep and they loved each other! They did!”

BB smiled at this, hugging the plush. One drop of joy, as small as it had been. One that wasn’t stripped away. But the show hadn’t ended.

“…Alas we got back to IF. IF my desired owner, the true maker of Blue, the one who could make BB worthy of love… If he had wanted to. He shoved BB in a cage and tortured Pastel instead, and it was so, so awfully cruel!” BB shook their head, lamenting “But last and not least, Master Fairyman appeared! He took BB and Pastel to live with him! And he has been so nice so far, giving BB colored books! Lovely, nice and nice! And Pastel Is with me too, BB don’t know how long it will last, but BB is so, so to be here with you!”

BB finished, looking back at Pastel and drawing a heart in the air with their fingers. Pastel… is tearing up. He jumps from the bed, not minding the camera anymore, and hugs BB. BB melts, leaning onto the hug. Soft. Kind. Loved.

“BB…” He finally speaks, still not letting them go “Did… Did you rehearse this?”

“Many times in BB’s head!” BB smiled. Many, many, many times, all those years… “Did it come out nice?”

“Yeah…” Pastel rested his head on BB’s shoulder, hugging them tight “I love you, you know?”

BB smiled.

“I know”

tagging: @summer-of-whump@pinkraindropsfell

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump4 #BB: Baby Blue #Pastel baby <3 #Farlan B)#pet whump #whump

50 notes · View notes

bjornthorsson20 · 3 years

Text

I Regret Everything

Trigger Warnings: suicidal thoughts / implied suicide / implied character death / trauma / nightmares about traumatic events / panic attacks

All seemed well.

Ron had come back, saved his life, destroyed a Horcrux and warned them of the Taboo placed on Voldemort’s name.

Harry had been elated beyond words to know his best friend had been alive and well during his time away, and had forgiven Ron immediately after seeing what the locket had been doing to him whenever he had worn it. Harry reassured him that he and Hermione shared nothing beyond a sibling bond, and that he had been deeply missed by them both, leaving them miserable without him.

While Harry had been quick to forgive Ron’s departure, Hermione had been incensed upon seeing Ron back, immediately unleashing a flurry of punches at whatever vital parts she could hit him on. All the while, Ron had covered his nether regions, hoping to preserve future generations of Weasleys. Thankfully, Harry had Hermione’s wand with him at the time, so Ron’s life had been spared long enough for him to explain how he had found his way back using the Deluminator. Ron’s speech had been so powerful that Harry had to admit that if he were a girl, he’d have pounced on him right then and there.

Hermione hadn’t been convinced by it though, instead turning away and marching back to the tent with furious steps. Harry had offered Ron an apologetic look, which Ron had dismissed muttering under his breath that “he deserved it”. Once inside, Ron had recounted his run-in with a group of Snatchers; how he had managed to fool them with the name Stan Shunpike, how he had learned of the Taboo and his snatching (pun fully intended) of their wands.

Still, Hermione had just cast Ron a murderous look and quickly averted her gaze with a disgruntled twist of her face. His red-haired friend sighed and asked her if they could talk, to which Hermione had seemed to consider for a moment before standing up and stomping her way to a corner of the tent wordlessly, turning to face Ron with an impatient tapping of her foot. Ron had glanced briefly at Harry, cocking his head slightly in his direction, clearly indicating he wanted to take the conversation outside, with Hermione’s only response being a hard glare and a huff that undoubtedly meant she had been within an inch of hexing him if he hadn't moved his arse there.

Defeated, Ron heaved out a bigger sigh, and finally headed over to where Hermione stood. He had been whispering just quietly enough that Harry couldn’t quite make out what he had been saying to her, but judging from the way Hermione’s expression immediately softened - her furrowed brow clearing and her eyes misting over - Harry was pretty sure Ron told her the locket’s destruction, and all the foul things it had fed Ron’s mind.

What happened next caught Harry completely by surprise. Hermione jumped into Ron’s arms and proceeded to kiss him hard, causing Ron to stumble back, no doubt shocked by that, before he started to kiss her back (fuck, more like snog the life out of her). Witnessing that should’ve made Harry smile with the stupidest grin ever, despite how gross they looked sucking each other’s faces like that, happy that they had finally gotten their shit together.

Instead of a grin though, Harry could feel his face set in a deep frown, as his two best friends kept devouring one another, hungry like a tableful of Weasleys, most likely having already forgotten the third wheel getting front row tickets to their show of burning passion. Eventually, they pulled back to catch their breaths, before going right back to it a moment later, this time making their way slowly over to Ron’s bunk, without breaking their ongoing snog. For some demented reason, Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of them, wondering how long they’d go at it until they remembered they weren’t alone in the tent.

Their passionate session of sucking and licking noises, mixed in with moans, whimpers and grunts - had Ron growled? Holy shit, they were animals - hadn’t ceased until Harry heard Hermione gasp and sit up, finally looking in his direction. She buried her face in Ron’s chest, most definitely mortified by what they’d been engaging in while Harry beared witness. Ron turned to him with wide eyes and a face as red as a tomato (Harry never liked tomatoes much), silently mouthing all kinds of apologies while holding Hermione tight and helping her calm down. Harry glared daggers at Ron, who at least had had the decency to look ashamed. Harry felt his frown gradually morph into the biggest grin he could muster without permanently disfiguring his face. Ron’s face had gone pale, most likely alarmed from Harry's sudden shift in mood, and when Hermione finally lifted her head to look at Harry again, her face too had borne an expression of pure shock at him.

They were saying something, but Harry wasn’t listening anymore, not even to his own responses that surely sounded very forced. He was thankful for his best friends’ inability to pick up on nice falsities, and for them not pressing him too much. His feet were dragging him somewhere - he wasn’t sure how long he had kept on walking - as his mind kept replaying the scene of them both attached at the lips, like a broken record of what Ron saw from the locket (as if having Voldemort trying to possess him constantly wasn’t enough mental torture). Harry had tried sorting through his emotions in an attempt to understand why he was feeling so bothered by this turn of events. It couldn’t be jealousy. It hadn’t been anger, nor had it been disapproval.

Eventually, he had come back to Ron and Hermione still on Ron’s bunk - by the looks on their faces, they hadn’t stopped worrying about him for even a second, a fact that made him feel extremely guilty for some reason. They immediately asked if everything was okay. This time, Harry managed to put up a more genuine looking smile for show, because after a quick dismissal of their worries, they seemed to relax and return shy, embarrassed smiles. He had gone to his bunk after a quick goodnight and tried to fall asleep, but as soon as he closed his eyes, that cursed image would reappear on the inside of his eyelids. He could still hear their voices exchanging hushed whispers, until they faded out - good thing he taught them the silencing charm. Merlin only knows what’s going on in there.

The thought caused that unknown, ugly feeling to come back before he finally succumbed to a nightmare-ridden sleep, forced to rewatch their snogfest. Except this time, they didn’t stop. Harry had tried closing his eyes - was that even possible inside a dream? - but found that he couldn’t, and he almost didn’t want to. The more he watched it, the more he felt like the memory was suffocating him from the inside, as if slowly consuming his body.

Sometime during the night, he jolted awake, sweating profusely and scrambling for his glasses. His eyes immediately landed where he knew they were sleeping, but they had the curtains drawn, so he couldn’t see what went inside after they silenced it. Harry thought that was for the best. His nightmare had scarred him for life in every way possible, and the sight of either of them at the time would certainly have made him sick to his stomach. How would he even look at them in the eye after that?

So, he hadn’t. It was now a whole week after that dreadful day, and Harry had yet to make eye contact with either Ron or Hermione. His whole mood and disposition, already tainted by the stress of the hunt, was at an all-time low, especially given how he hadn’t slept more than a half-hour every night, stuck on the same loop of being tortured into watching his two best friends go at it like rabbits in heat, and then jolting awake sweating buckets before giving up on sleep entirely. Even after waking up, he could still hear every sound, and experience that suffocating sensation constricting his chest. As a result, he now had very prominent bags under his eyes, but thankfully he was able to cover them up with charms, so neither Ron nor Hermione noticed anything wrong with him. He didn’t want them to worry; he couldn’t bear the guilt.

The whole week through, Harry continued to watch them have their quality time together. Sometimes, they would remember Harry was there fairly quickly; other times, they would go at it until they were almost undressing. But, at no point did they ever remember to cast a silencing charm, or draw the curtains around them, and Harry never once tore his gaze away from their displays of passion. It wasn’t until today, watching them quietly as usual, that all the pieces fell into place in Harry’s mind about what exactly he felt regarding them.

Envy.

He envied them. They had each other during all of this. They had hope for something after all of this if it ended. And that thought immediately sent him into another state.

Fear.

He was scared. Even if they succeeded in the end, his future didn’t look bright. He ended the one thing that kept him going, kept him hopeful, because he was a fool that always had to do what was right. If he could seize that moment again, he would choose to be selfish and bring her with them. That way he wouldn’t be alone.

That was the reason he couldn’t stop staring at them each and every time. Because he wanted that.

He wished it was him.

At the same time, he felt extremely guilty about the whole thing. He made them worry when they should simply be enjoying themselves and this new phase in their relationship. He made them worry because he dragged them to the middle of nowhere, in the midst of a chaotic war. Ron and Hermione might not come out of this alive, either one of them or both, and now the relationship they just began exploring could be taken away in an instant. Instead of being happy and hopeful for a future for both of them, he felt contempt at their sight, wanting them to be apart again and silently struggling through their unresolved tension. He was a piece of shit. He didn’t deserve the love he was given, the friends he had. He didn’t deserve the life he was given.

After Hermione removed Ron’s shirt and he did the same to her, Harry quietly slipped away out of the tent, putting up a silencing charm on the entrance. He wondered how far they’d go this time, and hoped they enjoyed it the whole way through.

Harry just stood there looking at the sky above the trees, knowing what he wanted to do. What he deserved after all.

All seemed well. But all wasn’t well.

One thought passed by Harry’s mind right before he uttered one single thing. I regret everything…

“Voldemort”

#harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #horcrux hunting #hp drabble #romione #ron x hermione #horcrux #trauma #traumatic experience #panic attack #dark drabble #heavy angst #self loathing #implied smut #implied character death #bjornthorsson20

50 notes · View notes

bioodorange · 3 years

Text

||How I See The Pastas||

This was originally supposed to be how they looked but I decided to go for mental aspect and explain why as well PLEASE like, reblog and share your thoughts on this in the comments or inbox

Below the desciptions are images i’ve compiled and some art (if you know the creator please tell me so i can credit them) for a visual

dont forget to like reblog and share your thoughts with me, I spent a few days on this so i’d appreciate this

Jeff the Killer

So lets start with the obvious- jeffs pasty white toothpaste lookin skin

But realistically he wouldn’t be completely covered in scars

It would be blotchy, with pink fleshy patches among the burns

He most likely has contracture scars, third degree burns that turn the skin a pale white and tighten the skin

This explains his gaunt features and skin color

Now we have to take into account the vodka that was splashed on him, he’d probably have worse burns there with exposed flesh and damaged nerves

This would result in gnarly exposed skin, a damaged scalp and maybe damage to his teeth and eyes

Realistically, Jeff wouldnt have burned off his eyelids that alone would have resulted in blindness and death

Than his smile, his signatuure mark would probably be more of a gangly bloody scar mess

Pastas heal faster and aren’t really human, he’d have to recut his smile pretty frequently making it pretty jacket up because ltes be honest hes far from clean

ANd than his hait being chard black is very unlikely because as nasty as he is he s h o w e r s

not very frequnetly given his living situation and untreated burns but people can figure out how to wash hait and not much else

also i think its funny he’d shower with a plastic bag on his face to avoid getting soap in his nasty infected scars-

His hair would probably be dry and cut unevenly, more of a dark brown color with blonde undertones

Not to mention his burned scalp, hair probably wouldn’t grow there so he’d have a cool unintentional side shave

Jeff would also be a tall individual, he cant really eat, snacking on things from his victims homes giving him a more skeletal build

His personality and mindest is about as pretty as his face- but he most likely has a very screwed up headspace

Lacking in self care, maturity and sanity its fair to say he’d be a brash and violent person

Fun Fact: While researching this I learned that some versions of the joker had facial scars in the shape of a smile

Ticci Toby

So tobys age, unlike a lot of pastas, is pretty well agreed on, 19

So unlike when he was first a proxy toby most likely has stronger facial features and facial hair

Because shaving and hygiene isn’t first priority for pastas (gross-)

He stands around 5′7 and has grayish skin

Toby i feel is picky about foods, not only is it hard for him to eat its hard for him to keep food down

He’s malnourished explaining his thin figure and grayish skin

His hait is dark brown and a curlish mess, unkempt but short so it doesn’t get in his way

I’ve always seen him with a small gap in his teeth, because I can

And since toby can’t feel shit I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to eat rocks simply because he fuckin could

So some chipped teeth that are a bit uneven

Along with his CIPA and not eating enough Toby would bruise easily and have lots of scars, from things like cutting his finger on accident or getting mauled by a racoon

I wouldn’t be surpised if some of his joints were a bit screwed up, because whenever theyd beak or fracture he wouldn’t notice, this would probably happen a lot causing them to not heal correctly

One of tobys habits is nailbiting but he cant te;; when too far is too far

His fingers may be abit odd looking, knobby and discolored nails because of how exetreme his habit is

Would most likely have bandages around his fingers frequently to prevent the habit

So theres a lot of debate about tobys cheek was it the CIPA or the car accident, I beileve the accident because his other cheek is completely fine, theres damage from the OUTSIDE to inside and considering his sister died in the accident its unlikely he survived unscathed

Fun Fact: only a small handful of people have ever been diagnosed with CIPA, less than 500 (documented) cases around the world

Bloody Painter

So Helen is often seen as quiet emo painter boy

but uh no <3

Personaly i beileve he suffers from narcisistic personality disorder, exetreme importance and that he is always victorious and gets what he wants

This sporuts from the constant heavy invalidation from classmates, toxic friends and neglect from his parents

He doesn’t hang out with people because he doesn’’t lie them its because they never let him in the past and he beileves he’s better than them

But this also links to deep rooted insecurity and social anxiety/being inept completely

Him being nice is basically so you like him, he wants validation amd admiration not love

Unlike the other pastas he’d be a more clean well kept one a helthy figure and some tattoos bevause he can

I beileve he lives in socity, finding hus victims in girls and men alike who fall for his charm

he uses hhis skill and ordinary appearance to blend in on the streets

From his behavior helen most likely keeps his hair a bit shorter and clean

He always looks his best

Has chapped, and picked at lips because of his anxieties

Aswell as his breakdowns- his identity is completely in his head, he is very unsure of who he is and takes the delusions in his mind as reality

Unrelated but paino fingers-

And finally in order for his art to be as perfect and amazing as him, he has to be apart of it

Thus using his own blood in his pieces and the body parts of those he admires

Covers his scars with clean bandgaes

But his paintings turn brown and dry out, he’s always in need of a new medium

Is most likely anemic from all the blood he looses and has a paler skintone

Clockwork

ahh yes finally someone who knows what self care is-

helen, i love you buddy but you need to stop

But anyway natalie has a stronger, athletic build

She often chases her victims and gets in altercations, relying on strength most of the time

on that same note, this would defintelty cause many scars on natalie

Wether it was a bite mark or scars from a kitchen knife, shes got lots of scars

A few even on her face

Now, for the clock in her eye that thing is like holding her skull together at this point, realistically

She is probably delicate and cares for it becaise 1) it hurts 2) if it gets screwed up that could cause a lot of problems

natalie would be a smart person, I wouldn’t be surprused if she had a few other stray stitches or bandgaes wrapped around a fresh wound

For more visual-ish things uh m u l l e t (credit: @cum-looking-sock-mf in a chat like 4 months ago)

She has one, fight me on it

but also thick and curlish hair so I also riase you

Undershave

just y e s

I can also see her getting tattoos over certain scars on her arm, just to make them look not so ugly

I feel like clockwork wishes things worked out better

Wishes for another chance but knows she’ll never get one

Thus her taking goof care of herself

Natalie throws herseld into her “work”, keeping her body in shape and killing people

Its a way to avoid her life and that it is- a huge, sad mess

Shes an outgoing impulsive individual, confident but questions her actions

She’s also unstable- protective and loyal but explosive and strong

Jane the Killer

Jane is the final one, im sorry I couldn’t do more theres a photo limit and I wanna bash my head into the wall

Now a main different between her and jeff is she had surgery and lie treatment

Janes skin is still greatly scarred but it is greatly healed

She takes care of it and had skin grafts

Her face is disfigured, a scarred smile and burns around

But unlike Jeff she doesn’t recarve the cut so its a cleaner line and a lot healthier

Janes hair took a rather long time to grow back, but it did!

She has a slightly long pixie cut a bit choppy but she doesn’t mind

Her wife definetely cuts it for her and you can fight me over that

I can see Jane having a lot of facial trauma, scars around her nose and cheeks

She was young when she started killing and went for the over the person, pin them down kill which didn’t work out

She switched to a silenced pistol after awhile, you know like a smart person

Janes arms and legs are in alright condition where most of the burn trauma is on her back

She has a leaner but healthy figure but like boobs-

Like clockwork and Helen she takes care of herself

She doesn’t kill as frequently, going after a few of jeffs victims before him and is of course, actively hunting him down

Her eyes are a pale green and she wears makeip to fill in her eyebrows because those bitches take a long time to grow back

fun fact: jeff has no eyebrows, fight me

#jeff the Killer #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #slenderverse #slenderverse headcanons #jeff the killer head canons #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby #bloodypainter #bloodypainter headcanons #clockwork headcanons #clockwork #jane the everlasting head canons #jane the everlasting #jane the killer #jane the killer headcanons

160 notes · View notes

memurfevur-archive · 2 years

Text

Jaded Gold

Character(s): Rutaci Faurux, Liahne Zaleae

About: In the times before Omnius’ intervention, here lies a story of two Trolls falling in love. A farmer and a wanderer who must learn to be open with each other.

Word Count: 4,485

You asked for a farmhand. With your choppy spelling and grammar, it was a surprise anyone could read the ad at all, but she came. A young and sweet Jadeblood with bright eyes and an innocently shaped face. Her laugh was something like chimes tingling softly in the breeze, and her smile was soft, sweet. You were uncertain if she would be cut out for the work you do, but the least you could do was humor her for coming all this way.

You showed her the basics. You explained to her the routine. She made faces at the gross chores, but she never complained. Her hands were too soft; she had never done this type of work before. She spoke gently to the animals, as if they could understand, and she would caress the crops softly when she tended to them. You couldn't tell if you were overcome with curiosity or admiration.

She worked diligently until dawn, lasting the whole night, which took you by surprise. She wasn't strong, that's for sure. You had to do any heavy lifting and helped her by setting things up for her use. Her calmness always made you bite your tongue about how you could've just done the work yourself. She never raised her voice, and when she spoke there was never uncertainty. You weren't sure how to feel about her.

"Thank you," she approached you after clean up. The work day was over, and soon it would be time to retire. A warm meal, a hot shower to loosen the stiff muscles, all things you looked forward to with relief. You were itching for it, rather, and looked to her impatiently as she spoke. "I learned a lot today. I think I will do better tomorrow now that I know what to do here. Thank you for having me here."

Thanking you? For making her work?

"I have yer check inside, if that's what yer probing for," you answered gruffly.

"Oh no! I mean, the money is appreciated, and is why I'm here, but I'm thanking you for this opportunity. It was nice."

You studied her for a moment, then disappeared inside your hive leaving her to blink after you and wondering if she had upset you. You soon reemerged with the aforementioned check in your hand. "I got it here. I uh, I'm not good with names. If ya can just remind me, I can address this here right and send you on ya way."

"Liahne," she said. "Liahne Zaleae."

+++++++++++++++++++++++

Dusk of the second day. To your surprise, she returned. The brightness in her eyes never dimmed, remaining the same as it was the day before. She was as willing as ever to work.

And work she did, ever so silently, movement quick and clumsy but able. He took her to the barn, showed her how to feed the cattle, and handle the moobeasts' udders. She would make an excellent student; quiet, observing, aware that mistakes were inevitable yet that never slowed her down. You watched her carefully and guided her hands where they needed to be, moving her through the motions. Your hands are much larger than hers, calloused, an ugly contrast. When you were comfortable with the thought of leaving her to finish off the moobeast, you moved on to the next one and placed a pail under. You would notice the slight blush on her cheekbones, but neither of you said anything of it. Tch. City folk.

"Do they have names?" Liahne spoke. It was after a long, comfortable silence. You tossed her a glance from the corner of your eyes.

"No." You never had a need to name your animals. From working with them for so long, you knew how to distinguish each one from the other. This one had a heart shaped splotch on its side.

"Oh."

Another stretch of silence passed.

"How long have you been a farmer?"

"Long." You weren't much for conversation. People were always too hard to talk to. They always carried some sort of expectation, and you could never figure out what kind it was that you were meant to settle into. You were afraid to know what Liahne's expectations were. She seemed so soft and sweet, perhaps she had none at all? You cast her another glance; her eyes were focused on her task. You press your lips into a thin line, "Ya from near here?"

She looked up, a pleasant look of surprise on her face. She smiled, "Not at all, though I can't say I'm from afar either." When you gave her a blank stare, she added, "I don't have a hive of my own, Sir."

You tilted your head, "Ain't Jades like you s'poseta be in the caverns?"

Her features slackened and you immediately regretted your words. Though she tried not to show it, you could see the difference like night and day even though you've only known her for one. She was upset, but you couldn't figure out why. You opened your mouth to take back what you said, but she cut you off.

"I wanted to take a vacation. See the world and everything." Her eyes fell on you in such a way that your breath became caught in your throat. "Do you ever feel like there's something bigger than you, and you've got to go see it for yourself? Maybe life might mean something more if you find a way to live it?" You swallow a lump in your throat. Of course you've felt it. "I'm still trying to figure out how, is all."

"And if there ain't? A way to figure it out, I mean, or if there ain't somethin' big out there after all."

She tilted her head, looking at you through her lashes. It was a knowing look, as if she was in on a big secret you were never made aware of. You found yourself hanging on her words. "I don't believe in destiny, Mr. Faurux, and I don't believe in fate. I think only I can know what it is when I get there. Ya never know," she turned and continued milking the moobeast. "Maybe the things that are so much bigger than us are the small things after all."

Later that day, you invited for her to stay in the spare guest room you had in your small hive. Your hive wasn't anything with much grandeur, and you lived rather practically with few major comforts. Despite this, Liahne seemed eager and thanked you continuously for your generosity. She even kissed you on the cheek in gratitude, an action that left your face ablaze.

"You can stay here as long as ya need, as ya work for me," you watched as she ran her delicate hands over te surface of her new coon-side dresser.

"Thank you so, so much! I'll do my best not to disappoint you!"

You? She didn't need to impress you, she just needed a place to sleep. You rub the back of your neck and give her a silent nod, then turned and let her be. You hoped she didn't catch the flush that heated your face.

++++++++++++++++++++

Moons have passed. Her hands had grown surer in their tasks, and she was able to do some of the heavy lifting herself. She had grown comfortable in the hive, and sometimes she would make lemonade and bring it out for you both to enjoy. She's met your poker buds, and despite the endless taunts, teases, and jabs about the two of you being lovers, Liahne always smiled and laughed about it. You never made a comment to suggest otherwise, either. Everyone knew they were good faith jokes, even if you and Liahne had grown closer than originally intended.

This closeness always took you by surprise. She would touch you so casually, placing a hand on your shoulder or embracing you. Though sometimes overwhelming, you've grown to enjoy them. She seemed to understand you, too, in ways you can't fathom. She'll hum you lullabies on days when physical contact makes you an anxious stimming mess. She wraps you in blankets, has even gifted you some plush toys, so that you can relax with something soft. She's learned your favorite meals, and has made it known how she plans to master them. Maybe it's just a caring nature she adopted from her time in the caverns? Maybe all Jadebloods are like this, who knows? It brought a flush to your cheeks everytime, however. Even your buddies never made as much of an effort to understand you as much as she did. They'd tease you about your insecurities, mess with you over your fears and difficulties with socializing. You loved them, but they weren't her. Liahne was somehow different than anyone you've ever known.

You noticed things about her, too. You learned how the light from the moons illuminated Liahne's form differently depending on their phases. You learned of her love for flowers, and had started a small flower garden in front of the hive just for her. You noticed how often she would bring her hands to her face, skirting the edges of sheepishness. You've counted the freckles on her cheeks, you've watched all the different shapes her lips would form when she talked. You learned that she liked her teas with three sugar cubes and a splash of milk. She's quick to laugh, quick to tease, and as kind and careful even though she holds an ounce of sass in her spirit that you've grown to admire. It was nice to see her joke like one of the boys and deliver roasts that leaves them quietly stunned. Sometimes, on nights where you two couldn't talk, or one has to go to market while the other stayed behind to work, you found yourself miserable. Time would slow down considerably, the echoes of her quips a haunting specter in your mind until her presence could exorcise you once again.

When the end of the season drew nearer, this unsettling feeling crept into your chest. It reverberated in your hollow veins, made your mouth run dry the more you thought about it. You couldn't shake the looming date out of your mind, no matter what task you distract yourself with.

Liahne was washing dishes from dinner. She didn't have to do that, but she always seemed to enjoy picking up the mundane hivehold chores. You never stopped her. How tidy she kept the place always brought your stress down. You weren't sitting by idly though; you dried the dishes she handed you with a small hand towel. A few times your fingertips brushed, and you couldn't decide if the heat in your cheeks was from that or from the beer you and your buddies consumed from that night's game. Liahne seemed so content in the silence, her eyes caressing the dishes lovingly. She treated everything with love.

You're not sure why you broke the silence. "So, do you have any plans?" Your breath caught in your throat when she looked at you with those bright eyes. You cleared your throat and trained your eyes on the plate you were drying. She was expecting an explanation, a continued story to what you just asked. Your grip on the plate tightened, "It's near the end of the season." You said this gruffly, as if it was a statement rather than a prompt. When Liahne didn't answer, you added, "Your work here would be done."

"Oh!" Liahne smiled and laughed at herself, and you wondered how she wasn't dying from embarrassment. You would have. "I'm not sure. There's so much to see out there, I suppose I'll just go where the wind takes me."

"Would that be nearby?" you asked, stealing a glance at her.

"It might be. Or, it might be very far away. I do not know yet."

There was a moment of silence. You weren't satisfied with these answers. You were looking for something else, but you didn't know what. So, you pressed; "Could you ever be convinced to come back? For work, I mean. When the season comes back around."

"I can't promise that. Why? You gonna miss me or something?" She jested. Jested! Anxiety laughed at your heart, and she was jesting. You don't know what this feeling was that shot through your chest. Your face burned, and you wanted to run out of the room. You wanted to retire and forget you said anything. Would it be so bad to admit it? Would it be so bad to say that you would, in fact, miss her?

"Nothing that I can't find again." You hoped this was the wrong thing to say. You wanted to see her grimace, to speak up about how rude that was. You hoped to hear the disappointment in her voice. You hoped for any evidence that she would miss you, too.

Instead, she smiled and turned back to the sink.

++++++++++++++++++++++

It's strange how when one thing goes missing from your life that you don't see as many colors as you used to. You have plenty of work to keep you busy, but the lack of giggles and Liahne's warm voice did not go unnoticed. It was hard to get out of the recuperacoon in the evenings, knowing there'd be no humming in the kitchen to wake up to.

It created such a void that it gripped everyone else that you came into contact with. They made comments, jests, jokes about how you had lost your lover. But you two weren't lovers. Quadrants were never a question between the two of you. Yet, it had still hurt, their words. You wished they would shut up. You missed her. That's all there was to it.

Even though you and her had spent nights together in each other's arms. You had cradled her, protected her against the harsh thunder and vicious lightning in the sky. You hushed her to sleep. She held your hands.

Even though you both had shared your dreams, your ambitions. You never bother to tell such ideas to others. It would get you killed, your desire for peace, freedom, and equality. Dreams of being something bigger than what you are. Dreams of rebellion. Dreams of war. You had saw the look in her eyes. You had seen how they had brightened, widened, buzzed excitedly as her gaze landed on you. You. The lowly peasant farmer.

Even though you both had exchanged secrets. Liahne was a runaway, a deserter, a renegade on the run from her post. She was never meant to leave the caverns, and yet, through the steady hand of her mentor she broke free. And that left you: the mutant that nobody was certain of. Were you yellow? Bronze? Your blush and blood are bright, and yet the veins run brown along your skin. You shimmered under the light of the twin moons, like you could be made of gold. Could be. Yet, none bothered to see for themselves. The Government had assigned you Bronze when you had emerged from the caverns, landing you this life you now live. You had never complained of where you ended up, your qualms only present over the maltreatment of others like you. The known ones. The ones that couldn't hide.

Both you and Liahne harbored the most dangerous weapon inside of yourselves: the will for freedom. The love of the fight. You were both aware these urges will be your demises, and yet you both still dreamed like the fools you are. One of the most exciting things about these dreams? They never once had excluded her.

But she's gone now; all of those excited whispers in the light felt empty now, like they had never happened at all. Like they didn't mean a thing.

"Bullshit," muttered Graern when you finally caved. Graern was always a man of few words, a guy whose silence made one wise. A champion of poker who enjoyed his reign, and when he spoke everyone would listen. He was the eldest out of all of you in your small social circle. You were surprised at his reaction. "Boy, I've seen young couples come and go but I ain't seen anythin' like what you and Liahne shared. Almost un-Troll like, y'all's were, in each quadrant an' beyond. Why you so damn shy f'r?"

"Shy...?"

"I know you have a special noggin' but ya ain't gonna ever live your life limiting yourself over these anxieties. Go git her."

"Get her...?" You didn't understand.

Graern fixed you with a look, as if he was sizing you up. "Rutaci, do you flush for her?"

Any other time you would remain silent and endure the teasing. You never found it deep within you to have the desire to object to it. But now? It was addressed so directly you didn't know how to answer. You no longer wanted to talk about this topic, but when you shrugged away Graern caught you by the arm.

"Listen 'ere bud, I care f'r ya like a lusus or a kin. And I've been seein' ya tear y'rself apart since the day she left. Tell me now, boy, does she make you happy?"

You're not sure how to feel about this. This was a side of Graern you've never seen before, and you know that since he spoke at all this must be true-- that he deeply cares about you. And Liahne? "Well, yeah."

"And ya likes her a hells of a lot, don't'cha?'

"I..." It is true; you admired her fiercely. A hot burning flush erupted over your face. "Yes."

"Boy, it don't matter whether ya land with her in your arms or not, ya care 'n' respect her an' that's good enough. Don't let her go, boy, ya hear?"

+++++++++++++++++

The bells rang on the kitchen phone. You huff, wrapped in a towel from your bath. You don't often get calls here, unless it was pay day or to go out with the boys. You were never a fan of being interrupted during anything, even if the task was small and trivial, unimportant. You couldn't change mindsets so fast; quick sudden changes of action or plan never were your friends. Regardless, you pick up the phone.

"Faurux residence."

"Rutaci?"

A great chill ran a marathon over your body. You squeeze the phone hard enough that you heard cracks begin to form on the receiver's plastic covering. "Liahne?"

"Hello! How have you been?"

"Oh, uh, okay. It's .. been a while." A full sweep and a half, to be exact.

"It has been." There was a small moment of silence on the other end. "Will you be free today?"

"Uh, yeah," you had finished your chores earlier than usual today.

"Are you perchance looking for a farmhand at all?"

You didn't expect the corners of your lips to slowly pull into a smile, "Well, s'long as the guest room is free there's always room for one."

"Then I'll see you soon?" Your heart skipped a beat and it soon became hard to hear her through the thundering in your ears.

"Of course, Flower."

You could feel her smiling from here, "Can't wait, Rutabaga."

++++++++

It was like she never left. You treated each other to dinner; while you had prepared a warm meal for her just in case, she also had brought you some morsels that you were too eager to gulp down. You ended up trading each other, laughing over the predicament among other things. She rambled about her travels and you were content in showing off a few dad-jokes you've picked up in her absence-- all that she laughed at with glee. It was a joyous reunion. The only time you were brought back to reality was when she admitted that she had missed you.

"Missed me?" You blinked in surprise. Then, you offered her a smirk, trying to play coy. "There's not much to miss, ya know." Despite the attempt to laugh it off, that statement was genuine.

"Hush now," Liahne said. "I've missed you. I've thought about you often while I was gone. It always brought a bittersweet sadness. I'd wonder how you've been, how the crops are faring, if you're still terribly bad at poker with the boys. I'd wonder if you missed me, too."

You swallow a lump in your throat as heat rushed to your face. "That must be horrible to have such an ugly mug taunt your thoughts like that." You laughed it off, but it didn't shake of the feeling of flutterbeasts in your stomach.

"Have you?"

Your smile dropped, "Have I what?"

"Missed me."

You start fidgeting in your seat. It's never easy to face the beast that carried its emotions on its back. Would it be wrong to say no? Would it be safe to say yes? How could you ever describe how you feel? It wasn't so much that words would get in the way, but that they were never clear to you. When you speak, you go in blind. Like a ship without a lighthouse, you crash and burn and sink. There's nothing safe to say here that would guard your pride.

Liahne's shoulders sank, her sails hit by the cannon balls your hesitance shot. Hurt shone in her eyes, even though her face remained calm. She bowed her head, feigning fancy in her food, "I-- forget I said anything." You didn't know how to fish shipwreck out of the sea.

The rest of the dinner lasted in awkward silence. You wanted to run. Hide your face. Escape from all this burning you ever seem to cause. But you were scared; if you were to turn your back for a split second, would she be gone again? How long would it be until you'd see her again? Will you ever, after a mistake like that? Damn it, what are you supposed to say?!

"That was... Nice." Liahne stood up from her chair after wiping her face with a napkin. The movement made your heart race, fearing what would come. "I think I should be going now. It was good to catch up." Her words of departure stung your eyes. Your throat tightened. You couldn't say anything even if you tried. All these things within you wanted to come out all at once, but instead it stacked on top of each other blocking the way out. You watched as she gathered her things. You watched as she gave you a faux smile before heading to the door. She placed a hand on the knob.

Suddenly, you sprang from your seat, a pitiful cry tearing from your throat. You didn't mean to look so desperate, you didn't mean to sound in pain. You hated how vulnerable you felt, but you couldn't let her go. Not like this.

"I'm sorry!" You and her were in the doorway. She had one foot outside, and that spurred a flash of hot white light. You lost control. The captain steered blindly as the navigator panicked. "I-I missed you. The goddesses know how much," you blurted. That wasn't enough. "It don't feel th' same without ya. Nights pass and I find m'self wishin' you were here. With me. Together.

"And I-- I..." The words were starting to die again, the fog an untameable beast. Your face was burning, not one inch of skin left unmarred from the heat. It was overwhelming, and the panic stabbing your chest did little to help. You kept opening your mouth to speak, but only grunts and croaks came. You were choking on your words, sounds refusing to be dislodged from your throat. Liahne gave nothing away as she looked at you, and you were terrified of what she was thinking. The lack of response startled you into a cry. Hot tears began to leave your eyes. Why was socializing so damn hard?

You summoned a flame and began to twist it in your hands. A little stim toy for you to focus on. Everything else felt too damn hot. Too close. If it weren't for the threat of Liahne leaving, you would've back off by now. Hold close to you the stuffed animals she had left for you before. Try to avoid the stings and uncomfortable void that filled your limbs whenever anything touched you. Liahne used to be good at calming you from these flares. She would hum to you, allow you rest, bring a potted plant near to you-- you always seemed to enjoy looking at the leaves. Green and rich, cool to the touch, familiar.

As if seeing the flame reminded her of those times, Liahne stepped inside and closed the door. Her expression had changed from something unreadable to that of soft and understanding with a spark of realization. She guided you by the hand to her old respite block. She sat you down and hummed to you a melody fit for songbirds. Then, she left, but only momentarily as she fetched a damp rag. She placed it on your forehead first, then softly dabbed around, cooling you down. The cold felt nice, and it helped to keep the void feeling away. Her gestures were nice. Familiar. Gentle. The anxiety in your chest began to settle. In its place was exhaustion, but as long as she was here, that's okay, too.

"I'm sorry," she murmured softly. "I hadn't realized I overwhelmed you."

"M'sorry," you managed to squeeze out, guilt beginning to weigh you down like lead.

"No. I realize now that you were too overwhelmed to speak. It was a miscommunication that could've ended horribly. I am sorry."

You didn't care. You didn't care about any of this. You just wanted her. Reaching out, you slowly gathered Liahne into your arms and sighed when she willingly nestled against you. This. This was familiar. Except there was a tightness in your chest, an urgency that possessed your tongue, "I'm flushed for you." The captain must've been thrown overboard by then. You tried not to betray the surprise you felt, the utter shock and horror of the words that had spilled out of your mouth. You began to feel hot again.

And then her words brought chills, "I know." She shifted in your arms to look up at you, bright green eyes meeting gold. Had you made it that obvious? "This is sort of an awkward time to come out about it, but since you said it first: I'm flushed for you, too, Rutaci."

It felt as if the wind got punched out of your lungs. Your face burned, but it was uncertain whether it burned from stress or excitement. Your hands shook as you held her. You weren't sure what to say. The crew sailed blind in the fog again.

The two of you sat like that for a while. Liahne, curled up in your arms with her head resting on your chest. You by this point were pacified but still ever so anxious to know what this all meant. The silence was nice. Her cool, smooth skin was grounding to the touch. She stilled smelled like blossoms and apples, from soaps and shampoos whose brand names you will never remember. You could spend forever here.

"I... I need you," you eventually broke the silence. Your voice was gruffer than it usually was, laced with exhaustion and desperation. "In my life. It's sad, I think, without you here. The guys won't shut up about it."

"If you want me to, I'll be around."

"Do you want to?"

It took a moment for her to reply as she thought it over in her head. Then, silently, she looked up at you. Oddly she seemed to melt in relief, and time stood still as she reached up and kissed your cheek. Her hand found its way to your hair and started playing with the locks and twirling between the fingers. You couldn't help it; you let out a purr. A goofy smile stretched your lips and a face of relaxation never seen before covered you. Liahne let out a chuckle, amused at how you had unwind at just a little gesture. "I think, perhaps, I would. It's your hive though, you call the shots."

"I'm flushed for you. Being without you is agonizing. Things don't shine as bright. The color around here loses so much vibrancy, but you give it all back as if you owned the colors all along. I never realized how good we had it until the season was over."

"You had never left my mind, either. I... Should've called sooner. I was scared."

"Scared?"

"Feelings are hard to confront, you know." And boy, didn't you know it.

You look down with a heavy flush. She had more guts than you did. If it wasn't for her, you probably would have never tried. These things were too scary, too overwhelming, too draining to do on your own. But you'll try, now.

"Liahne?"

"Yes, Ru?"

"...Can we hold hands?"

There was a snort of laughter, but before long your hands were locked in promise.

#Rutaci Faurux #Liahne Zaleae #fevur writing

3 notes · View notes