#lady mal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dragoneyes618 · 8 months

Text

More details about how the Isle kids cannot process or interpret emotions....

@tiredflowercrown tagged:

@shellyseashell tagged:

Yes to all of these.

Ginny doesn't even know what she's feeling.

Mal was raised to be a perfect copy of her mother. But she doesn't want to be her mother, she hates her mother, but she doesn't know what else she is besides a mini-Maleficent, so she hates herself too. Anything that's close to her, she pushes away, rejects, makes them as unlike her as possible. She did it with Maddy. She did it with Uma. She would have done it with Evie, eventually, if they hadn't gone to Auradon.

The only way Jay ever earned his father's approval was through stealing. Even years later, he'll habitually steal little trinkets to gift to Lonnie without even noticing.

Evie doesn't know how to have any relationship with anyone that isn't seducing a prince.

Sammy Smee was raised in an violent environment full of anger and shouting. Even once he was on Harriet's ship, well, Harriet also gets angry, and also shouts, because she was raised in that same environment. Sammy can't understand anything that isn't like that.

Freddie and Celia don't trust anything that's for free. Everything has to be for something. Everything is in exchange for something. No one is simply "friends" with anyone, they have to be getting something out of it. It's only a matter of figuring out what, and making sure you won't be left at a disadvantage. (And it can be inferred that Freddie and Celia had one of the better childhoods on the Isle, so if this is their view on relationships, imagine everyone else's!)

Squeaky and Squirmy trust Sammy to be their provider, their teacher, their caregiver, and no one else. They don't know how to relate to anyone who isn't him. They just sort of shut down. Not with their father, who loved them but never tried to protect them, not like Sammy did. At least Sammy tried. Not with the Hook siblings, who were always getting involved in various dangerous shenanigans and who scare them, just the tiniest bit, even though they also help them and take care of them. No one but Sammy.

Dizzy....Dizzy has two examples: Anthony and Lady Tremaine. (Her mother never even pretended to love her. Her aunt was too beaten down to show it.) Anthony loves her, and everyone knows this. But Anthony was raised to be a lord on an Isle full of the dregs of society, an Isle where everyone ridicules those with pretenses to greatness. Yet his grandmother insisted, and he doesn't know how to show anything but his facade. He tells Dizzy he loves her, and he does, but he speaks coldly, strictly, harshly. He rarely, if ever, shows anger. No outbursts of emotion; hardly any emotion at all. No raising his voice. No playing games, no hugs, none of the things Dizzy would like to do. And Lady Tremaine....she really barely feels any emotion at all, not anymore. Of course she loves Dizzy, she says. She's her grandmother. What kind of grandmother wouldn't love her granddaughter? If only Dizzy would do her chores quicker, better, quieter. If only she would behave well. Then she would surely show Dizzy that she loved her, more than just saying "Of course I love you Dizzy" without even a smile and sending her off to the salon. Or so Dizzy believes, anyway. Anthony has inherited far more of his behavior and mannerisms from his grandmother than he would like to believe.

And Claudine. You see, Frollo usually does not lose his temper. He rarely shouts or rages. He prides himself on keeping perfect control on his emotions. And so Claudine doesn't associate loud noises or shouting with his anger. No, she associates frighteningly calm voices, in an even tone, with no expression, excoriating her with the harshest of words. And of course she thinks she should be hurt. Anyone who cares about her would hurt her as a punishment, so she should learn to do better. She doesn't like it, of course, but it's what has to be done, right? Right?

90 notes · View notes

sygnapksp · 7 months

Text

#total drama mal #total drama alejandro #malejandro #and the ladies but I didn’t wanna tag them since each is only drawn once.#I really like malejandro. Could you tell.

77 notes · View notes

iamthecomet · 10 months

Note

"He knows they can take it. Knows he can crank them up, make them sweat, and whine. It's one of very few ways he can get Swiss to beg."

Look, I know how many requests you must have already, but if you ever elaborated on this it would ruin me in all the very best ways. You know how I feel about whiny begging Swiss.

for @comp-lady and @askingforthesun 1.8k of Mean Dew. Temperature play. VERY improper uses of hot wax. and a needy, whimpering, multi-ghoul.

Swiss prides himself on his ability to adapt. He takes things as they come. Be it a nasty fall off of the stage, or Rain driving his boot into his bladder until his vision blurs. Swiss doesn't buckle. He rolls with it. Leans in. He goes to his knees frequently but rarely drops all the way. Almost never begs. He doesn't get desperate for anything--doesn't need anything bad enough to grovel for it. It's rare that anyone can drag him into that headspace. Needy. Desperate. straddling the razors edge between panic and pleasure. "Color." Swiss tips his head back. He hadn't realized he'd been drifting, eyes unfocused toward the fire raging in Dew's fireplace. All of the logs Dew had stacked in it have burned to ash by now--but the fire doesn't stop. Propelled by Dew's magic. The same infernal heat that is crawling up Swiss' spine. He's deliciously dizzy, the world a little hazy, out of it. He feels sweat trickle down the side of his face. He blinks mismatched eyes at Dew's cruelly beautiful face and Dew sneers at him. He sets one burning hand against Swiss' cheek. "I asked you a question." "Green," Swiss says. He's trying to keep his voice level, it takes a lot of effort. Satanas he's so hot. It feels like the room should be burning down around him. Like he should catch on fire at any second. He's naked, sweat shimmering on every inch of dark skin. Despite the discomfort, the heat, the rough hearthstones beneath his knees, he's still so hard. "Good." Dew pats his hand on the side of Swiss' face, the grin he levels on him is cruel. It makes Swiss' stomach twist. Dew straightens. Swiss' is thrown off when the absence of his touch doesn't bring cool relief. If anything the heat intensities. It feels like it's coming from inside of him. A fever burning it's way through his chest. Into his veins. Immolation at a lazy wave of Dew's hand. He wonders how much Dew can really do--if this takes no visible effort. He watches Dew walk away from him. He's shirtless. Pale skin illuminated by flickering firelight. His golden hair is tied into a knot at the base of his neck. Unlike Swiss, Dew's skin is free from the glimmer of sweat. He looks perfectly at ease. Back as straight as ever, but relaxed. Unbothered by the twitching ghoul kneeling behind him. He's doing something at his desk that Swiss can't see, head bowed. Swiss shifts a little on his knees. The stones on the hearth dig into his shins. If he stays here much longer he'll have bruises from the mortar lines. That's probably exactly what Dew wants. To run his fingers over them later, press meanly against them to drag harsh gasps from Swiss' lungs. Dew's head rockets up as Swiss adjusts himself. The glare he fixes Swiss with as he turns to look at him fills Swiss' stomach with cold dread. He's been good. He hasn't moved. Has kept his hands where Dew told him (on his thighs, palms down). He feels all the drain away. Dew is never going to let him cum. Dew watches him cooly, then turns back to the task at hand. "What did I tell you?" "Stay still," Swiss parrots back to him. There's no keeping the shake out of his voice now. He's so hot. He's so fucking hard. He wants Dew to touch him. He wants him to turn the temperature down. He wants any form of minute relief. It's blissful torture. Pinned between wanting this agony to last forever, or for Dew to finally give in--to make him cum so hard he blacks out. Swiss' fingers shake against his thighs, but he doesn't move again.

He's drifting again when Dew comes back. It's so rare that anyone really gets him to drop that he doesn't realize it until Dew's carding a gentle hand through his hair. His skin hot enough to scald if Swiss didn't have a little fire magic of his own. As it is, his touch stings. Swiss wonders what those hot hands will feel like on the rest of his body. His cock twitches at the thought. Dew notices, eyes dragging down to where Swiss is hard and heavy between his legs. His cock is flushed, the tip shiny with pre. His arousal is an ever-present ache. Somehow better and worse than the heat. They work in tandem to drive Swiss deeper--to drive him insane. "Please," Swiss says suddenly. His mouth is dry, his throat aches.

"Please what?" "Dew. Come on--Just..give me something. Anything," Swiss can't help it now. There's no holding back the pleading. The need for something other than this particular brand of purgatorial torture. "Anything?" Dew cocks an eyebrow. Swiss notices, too late, that Dew's other hand is behind his back. Swiss nods, not thinking. Edging toward stupid, desperate. The first drip of wax onto his collarbone wakes him up a little. It hurts. His cock kicks with each dribble. Precum beading at the tip as Dew holds a closed fist over Swiss' body and lets deep violet wax fall from his fingers. It doesn't dry fast enough. Running in burning rivulets down Swiss' overheated body. Dew watches their path, dripping over his nipples, down his belly to dry in the hair of his happy trail. Swiss tips his head back, arches his back, presses into that pain. A low groan dragged from his chest as Dew shifts his angle and the wax hits his hips, runs down the crease toward his balls. Swiss clamps his eyes closed. Feels each drip of wax as it lands on his skin. His thighs, his pubic bone. Closer and closer to the place he wants it, but never quite there. A splatter of wax hits his knuckles, drips over his inner thighs. Swiss can't think about how hot he is anymore--only about the ache in his groin. About the bright lines of decadent pain Dew is carving into him.

Dew shifts. Swiss feels it, and then suddenly they’re on the same level. Dew slips one knee between Swiss’ spread thighs and shoves his legs a little further open.

Swiss tips his head back up, looks at Dew stupidly. He wants to ask for something—to ask what’s next. But his tongue is so heavy in his mouth. And he doesn’t know what he wants—except whatever Dew is willing to give him. He isn’t as hot now, Dew must have pulled back on some of the heat. Dew’s watching him with careful eyes, calculating. He’s nudged up close, his kneecap pressed just barely up against Swiss’ balls.

“Color,” Dew asks, softer this time. He takes the hand not coated in wax and puts it on Swiss’ cheek, forces their eyes together so Dew can look for something—Swiss doesn’t know what.

“Green. So green. Touch me with it,” Swiss grits out, nodding toward Dew’s wax coated hand.

Dew licks his lips. It’s the only warning Swiss has before Dew opens his fist. The last remnants of the candle he’d been clutching still melting against his skin. He curls his fingers around the base of Swiss’ aching cock and Swiss howls. Back bowing backward, hips jerking upward into Dew’s hand as white-hot pleasure sparks up his spine. It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t feel like this. The wax stays wet between their overheated bodies and Dew drags it up and down Swiss’ shaft in languid strokes at first, polishing the head, mixing wax and pre. Swiss is shuddering in no time. Thighs twitching, hips bucking up into Dew’s hand as he chases the coil in his gut. “Close already?” Dew asks, his voice cold. “Pathetic.” “Dew—oh fuck—Dew you’re gonna make me—”

“No.” Dew pulls his hand back and Swiss sags, he twitches, hips rolling up, searching for the one last bit of friction he needs to cum. He was so close, inches away. It barely starts to recede before Dew’s back on him, strokes not languid anymore, and it’s only second before Swiss is whining again. Begging. Dew pulls off as soon as the first please leaves Swiss’ lips. Dew sets a rhythm. A handful of quick strokes until Swiss is keening, before letting go. Watching Swiss’ cock bob and pulse.

On the last one, he grips the base of Swiss cock hard, hot wax running down the shaft and down to his aching balls. They’re so heavy. God all Swiss can think about is cumming. Not the heat still pulsing through him, or the wax drying on his skin. Just release, relief. He shakes in Dew’s grasp.

“Ask for it,” Dew orders. “Nicely.”

“Please,” Swiss gasps. Trying to fuck into Dew’s hand and failing. “Please make me cum, Dew. Please. I need it—I—please.” “Such a fucking whore aren’t you?” Swiss nods. Satanas he’ll say anything. Agree to anything. His cock kicks in Dew’s grip, stomach swooping at the dark look in Dew’s eyes. Swiss wants to reach out to him, wants to pull him in and beg. Offer him life and limb, and internal organs just for this.

Dew must see something in his eyes—a little too much desperation, a little too much devotion. Because when he starts to jack Swiss off this time he doesn’t stop. Not when Swiss keens, and rocks in his grip. Not when he warns him, voice breaking. All Dew does is shift his own position, pulling back so that when Swiss cums it’s all over the fireplace and not Dew’s jeans.

Swiss’ orgasm blows through him like a train. His eyes roll back as he bends in. Shoulders hunching, body shuddering with each wave. The pleasure pain of it is exquisite. Electricity sparking through his fingertips. He seizes, his vision darkens at the edges but Dew holds him upright, works him through it with measured strokes as Swiss spends himself all over the stones in front of the fire.

Dew whispers praises in his ears that Swiss doesn’t really hear. Strokes his hand through Swiss’ hair, over his back, as he comes back. Breathing slowing into something easy. He’s boneless like this, pliant. Dew presses a kiss between his horns.

Swiss looks up at him after a while, the room clearing. The world steady beneath him. He’s exhausted, fucked out, loose limbed. He feels good.

“Welcome back,” Dew whispers against his hair. “You ok?”

“Better than.”

“Good,” Dew grins at him. “Guess that means you can bathe yourself.”

Judging by the swift lance of panic that slices through Swiss—he isn’t back to normal as much as he thought. He clings to Dew even though he knows it’s a joke. Dragging the smaller ghoul closer even as Dew chuckles softly at him. “Yeah,” he says, bumping his horns against Swiss’ “that’s what I thought.”

#comet writes #ficlet #mal #comp lady #Dewdrop Ghoul #Swiss Army Ghoul #Swiss Ghoul #Multi Ghoul #Swiss/Dewdrop #Dew/Swiss #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #mean Dew #wax play #temperature play

107 notes · View notes

abyssmclshadows · 4 months

Text

Quick What the fuck does mercuiral mean

#blocked; Mia #((cannot let the ladies know you dont know words.of utmost importance covert research mission. mal u dweeb))

20 notes · View notes

satureja13 · 4 months

Text

Back to Ji Ho and Genji. They hadn't heard anything from the others but Rubyn is working under high pressure to bring them back together.

Ji Ho is working with Genji at the Laundromat. Ji Ho: "Can you believe it's already 15 months ago since we had the duel here and Vlad claimed me back?" Genji: "It's madness. So much happened since then! I'd never have thought I'd see you again."

In their lunch break they played 'Sims Forever' together in the arcade next door.

Little Goat: 'Can someone turn this on for me?' Sure!

Genji: "It's warm today. We could go to the lake after work." Ji Ho: "That would be nice!"

And that's what they did on this sunny late autumn day. They took Little Goat and Yang Mal with them.

It was even warm enough for Ji Ho to swim. (There is a similar scene when Vlad sat where Genji sits now from Beltane this year.)

Eventually they went back home to eat and watch tv.

Such a nice day.

Until it wasn't. They had an unexpected and unwelcome guest: Lady Demon... (Lady Demon already was a menace in our other story...)

Lady Demon: "Huh, that was about time. How do you withstand this tiny, run down 'place'?" *shudders* She came right to the point: "You know you can't keep Ji Ho, Genji. I have customers who will pay a fortune to make him theirs." (Why Ji Ho is so precious among vampires explained -> here)

Genji: "I'm Ji Ho's bonded! You have no right to take him from me!"

Lady Demon: "I fear you're not. Ji Ho's rightful bonded is gone and the bond between you and Ji Ho had never been solidified. You never fully claimed him."

Lady Demon: "You have time until Winter Solstice. Claim Ji Ho or leave him with a new bonded to care for him and protect him. He can live anywhere a better life than here. They will treat him like a prince."

And then she left. I knew this day was too good to be true...

Genji and Ji Ho were devastated. They'll join Rubyn tomorrow and try to excellrate the reasearch on the meteorites to join Ji Ho with the others. And Ji Ho went down to the Laundromat again. Where he and Vlad initiated their Bond. Ji Ho tries to send a message to Vlad over their Bond. Ji Ho: "Vlad. Please, help me. Find me."

From the Beginning ~ Underwater Love ~ Latest 🛺 'Home crappy Home' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: 🌴 'The Expedition' from the beginning ▶️ here 🎤 'Putting the Boys Back together' from the beginning ▶️ here 🥀 'Disbandment of the Group' from the beginning ▶️ here

43 notes · View notes

lasaraconor · 2 years

Photo

#kerry washington #clarissa #charlize theron #lady lesso #l'école du bien et du mal #the school of good and evil #gif

256 notes · View notes

allbridgesburn · 3 months

Note

I'm seeing the picture of Maybe Adult Mallory in the dress, and the potential: like it's her getting ready for her birthday party, or a debutante ball, or some political function she's going to.

OR daddy's birthday

#would she thrive at those kinds of events??#or would she despise them like mom??#would she even be allowed to date or would daddy have every prospective suitor killed??#imagine mal coming back home from a night out with her friends and finding daddy sitting in a chair in ominous darkness #turning on the light as she walks in for Special Dramatic Effect #being like you're so fucking grounded young lady #and LG banging her head against the wall #'im just gonna go cuddle with the little ones you're a lost cause daughter'#ask #fic: wasteland

12 notes · View notes

bellringermal · 6 months

Text

Very happy to share some photos of my Lady Maria cosplay!

>:D >:D >:D

Hidetaka Miyazaki Cosplayers Italia Gathering at Lucca Comics & Games 2023! Best Soulsborne group in existence <3 I had so much fun!

1st photo was taken by Stefano Colavita

Abyss Watcher is the wonderful gelato_soul !

Still trying to figure out if General Radhan has an IG account so I can credit him too <3

#lucca comics #lady maria of the astral clocktower #bloodborne cosplay #hmci #hidetaka miyazaki cosplayers italia #soulsborne cosplay #mal rambles #mal does cosplay #bloodborne cosplayers #tindalosmalakia #general radhan #abyss watcher #lady maria cosplay #laby maria of the astral clocktower cosplay

117 notes · View notes

stackslip · 7 months

Text

considering you're in a supposedly toxic lesbian manhwa: NOT ANYMORE YOURE NOT

#unless the work remembers bisexuality exists. we'll see #eli talks #no love lost lady #and yes i got this from ququoqaw's MAL recs since she mentioned reading this if you loved madk #i loved madk. so

15 notes · View notes

creativenicocorner · 2 years

Photo

Now I KNOW this has been done already, but I wanted to give my take on Ye Olde Lesbian Meme ♡

#Discworld #Sam Vimes #Sir Samual Vimes #Commander of the Watch Sir Samual Vimes #Lady Margolotta #Cheery Littlebottom #Cheery #Margolotta #Polly Perks #Ozzer #Pol #Maladict #Polly/Mal #Maladict coming in with a steel chair and non binary lesbian vibes <3 #Im actually really proud with how this came out!#Nico Draws

114 notes · View notes

whump-in-the-closet · 10 months

Text

At Gunpoint

yes, yes i know i have two active series i need to work on, but i got distracted by a couple of my other ocs and voila

~~~

cw: this is really very violent so heed that, guns, knives, drugging, used as bait, death threats, character death, badly written fight scene, implied torture and captivity, female whumpee, female whumper, so many broken bones…yeah let me know if i missed anything

Mal wandered down the empty stone walks of Jett’s abandoned fortress and found the emptiness odd.

But she didn’t realise how wrong the silence was until it was too late.

Granted, her thoughts were distracted. Nyx had been gone for a week and there had been no message.

But Nyx was more than capable of taking care of herself. She was fine…Nyx was fine.

Nyx was fine.

Mal tried to shug the growing discomfort away. Momentarily distracted by a locked door at the top floor, she kicked it down out of violent necessity.

The room was not empty.

It took only a second for Mal to recognise Jett and Akari, and to realise that the only exit was the way she had come.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck–

Mal froze, eyes locked on the bent figure in the back of the room. Everything else bled away, leaving Mal standing in an ocean of red.

The figure knelt because she couldn’t stand, chains looped around her wrists and attached to rings on the floor. Mal caught a glimpse of black where the whites of the eyes should be as Nyx’s head rolled forward.

Gagged and drugged out of her mind—Nyx. Far from fine.

Jett started talking– bragging– lip curling in triumph. She spun a revolver lazily.

Mal didn’t care. She took a shaky step forward. Couldn’t look away from the bruises on Nyx’s bare arms.

Purple and blue and shadowed.

Arching half-healed red lines on her shoulders and neck–

Jett’s girlfriend wound a hand in Nyx’s dark hair, wrenching Nyx’s head back at a painful angle. Flashing steel was drawn in a clear threat.

“Stop where you are,” Jett repeated, no longer spinning the gun.

Mal almost lunged forward. A void opened up inside her.

Screaming.

Screaming until everything was raw and red and aching.

She managed to stop, but all she could see was the knife at Nyx’s throat.

Looking at Nyx, drugged and hollow, shirt ripped to reveal spider-webbed pale skin, felt like a twisting blade in Mal’s lungs.

Jett crossed the ground between them, eyeing the knife at Mal’s hip. She yanked it out, tossing it to the ground.

Mal didn’t protest.

Jett took Mal’s silence for defiance. With a violent twist of her wrist, she brought the handle of her gun over the girl’s head. “On your knees.”

Mal inhaled sharply, air burning her lungs with all the force of the desert sun. A shuddering sob in her throat, she dropped to her knees.

Jett stood over her and the gun didn’t waver. She pressed a cold circle to Mal’s already throbbing temple. “Don’t move.”

Don’t move.

Outnumbered.

Outmatched.

Death felt like a cold wind on the back of Mal’s neck.

Akari spoke up. “Not so brave now, are you? What do you think, m’lady? Do you think her brave?”

Jett traced a line down Mal’s face with the muzzle of her gun.

Mal’s breathing picked up. Faster and faster and faster–

Jett jabbed the muzzle into Mal’s throat, forcing her to look up.

Faster and faster and faster–

Jett grinned. “No, not particularly brave.”

Mal exhaled softly, blowing a sweat-matted curl out of her eyes. “Fuck off.”

Faster than Mal’s breathing came the flash of Jett’s gun.

Another sharp hiss, but Mal fell silent, vivid red dripping down from her temple. Breathing heavily, she glared at the concrete. She did not miss the brown-red stains of dried blood that spotted the floor.

“Do you know what we’re going to do to you?” Akari’s voice was low, her scar catching in the flame-lights, skin still shiny. The hand holding the knife to Nyx’s throat was steady, the weird light only enhancing the new lines of exhaustion on Nyx’s face. “We’re going to kill you. Here. Now.”

Mal looked up at this. Jett smiled, confirming Akari’s threat.

Akari’s voice dragged on, shinier than her scar. “We’re going to kill you the way we kill a rabid dog. We thought about torturing you ‘til you died begging, as a sort of dramatic irony bit.”

Mal licked the blood off her lip.

“We thought about letting you live. Making an example out of you. But you’re too unstable for even that. You’re sick–”

Mal spat out the blood. It had been waiting, crimson and iron and bitter, on her tongue. It landed on Jett’s glossy-black boot.

The satisfaction was only momentary. Worth it. That same boot lodged itself in Mal’s stomach.

Mal doubled over, coughing. More crimson in her mouth. An ocean of blood tearing her lungs to shreds.

“Akari, enough,” said Jett. “We’re done here.” When she shoved the muzzle of the gun to Mal’s temple, it was no threat.

Choking on the crimson-bile, Mal cried out. White dots bloomed in the corners of her eyes. “Wait!”

“Any dying words?” Jett was running out of patience.

“Nyx?” Mal’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Nyx.” Voice even softer. “What will you do with her?”

“She’s my sister, I’m not going to kill her.”

Akari laughed. “We have to make an example out of someone.”

“Akari!” snapped Jett.

Too late. Mal froze, every muscle coiling like a wind-up toy inside her. Tightening, and tightening, and tightening.

“Fuck,” whispered Jett.

Tightening and tightening and tightening. Every nerve set alight with lightning-burning that arched through her entire system.

Two things happened in a span of seconds.

Mal lunged for the gun and Jett fired it. The bullet missed wildly and that's when, according to Jett, it all went to shit.

Akari scrambled off of Nyx, a knife in each hand.

But Mal had knocked the gun out of Jett’s hand and shoved Jett back into the wall. Mal’s fist connected with Jett’s ribcage in the most satisfying of crunches. Before Jett could double over, she grabbed Jett’s hair and– crack– the back of Jett’s head met the concrete wall.

Jett slumped against the wall.

Then Akari’s blade found Mal. The short steel slammed into the small of her back– scraping against bone–

White pounded in her vision, ripping through her. It twisted and screamed through every nerve in her body– fading to gold.

Red–

The colours were lodged behind her eyes, exploding into vicious spirals. Mal whirled, her blow met with steel.

A slash on the back of her hand for her troubles.

Deep, deep red pooling out of the cut. Her hand was slippery with it.

Jett was recovering and Akari was stabbing again.

Mal barely dodged the thin blade. But Akari had put too much force behind the blow, and when Mal swayed to the side, Akari was left exposed for a second too long.

Mal elbowed Akari in the face. Another satisfying crack as something broke. Probably the woman’s nose. Mal wrenched the weapon out of Akari’s hand, and with a movement like diving into choppy water, Mal shoved it into Akari’s throat.

Akari crumpled, eyes wide, grabbing for the knife. Frantic crimson spurted over the front of her shirt and soon soaked her hands.

Mal didn’t stay to watch.

Jett hadn’t quite recovered. She was on her hands and knees—

Mal kicked Jett’s legs out from under her. Jett wheezed, the sound distinctly wrong.

And Mal laughed, the sound rattling in her throat and wiped the blood off her face. “Sick?” She kicked Jett in the mouth. Blood on her boots. Blood on the ground. “Fuck that–”

Oh, she was so glad she’d worn steel-toed boots today. She kicked Jett again. And again. And again.

“–Fuck you.”

Every blow brought a wince of pain, and every blow brought greater and greater satisfaction.

She lightly touched the hilt of the blade still buried in her back. Her fingers were drenched with scarlet when she pulled her hand away. That was going to be a problem.

Mal wiped her bloody hand off on Jett’s shirt, leaving the red to smear. With a curl of disgust, she started digging through Jett’s pockets. When she finally found the key to Nyx’s chains, she kicked Jett one last time.

Jett’s face was now unrecognisable.

Mal turned back to Nyx. Crouching down should not have been as difficult as it was. She had to breathe through her teeth, raspy and hoarse, to keep from screaming. Her fingers kept slipping on the key and it took three tries to unlock the chains on Nyx’s wrists.

With the support removed, Nyx slumped forward.

Mal caught her, slowly lowering herself and Nyx to the bloody floor. “Nyx?” she whispered and even the whisper seemed blood-stained.

Nyx didn’t answer, head rolling back against Mal’s shoulder.

Black in her eyes where the whites should be.

Deep shadowed bruises.

Mal bit back a shuddering sob. “I’m sorry.” Then again, and again and again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Nyx, I’m sorry–”

She curled over the limp body, her forehead pressed against Nyx’s.

I’m sorry.

29 notes · View notes