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multifandomworldsposts · 8 months

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The Boy From Bomont

pairing: willard hewitt x fem!reader

warning: sexual harassment/assault, fighting

A/N: basically footloose 2011 in a different way.

Y/N’s POV

I don’t what it is about Bomont, it’s odd to me, we’re not allowed to listen to music including dancing. I’ve never been to a place like this or live in a place like this. My aunt, uncle, my cousins and I have to go to church, I’m not really a religious person but I’ll try to respect the church if I can.

I go to Bomont High School which their traditions at this school is nothing what my last school had. No school dances and no music allowed anywhere at this school.

I meet Ariel and Rusty in my ELA 3 class and Ariel reminds me of a girl who I went to school with, really rebellious, not a goody-goody I can tell, and has a boyfriend who looks like a college kid. Rusty is like me, not what Ariel is.

Rusty took me to the drive-in and everyone was really nice and really dirty minded, like my friends back home. I met Willard, he reminds me of a boy from my last high school. Really southern and really kinda has a good heart.

“What do want from the menu?” Woody told me.

I look at him about to speak but his girlfriend interrupted me.

“Leave that girl alone, so there’s a lot of good food on the menu, I suggest the hot dog.” She says.

I chuckle, “I think I’d like the hot dog with nothing on it.” I said to Claude.

Claude gives me the hot dog and says to Woody, “Now, I don’t want a fine, and you don’t want to get another ticket.”

“Wait, you got a ticket for dancing?” I asked Woody.

“He got two tickets for dancing, one more then you’re off the team!” Woody’s girlfriend said.

I get my stuff and go outside to see what’s going on, I hear music from the speakers.

“Holy.” I go to where Rusty and the rest of her friends are at.

Everyone continues to dance and I’m amazed by this, everyone hates the fact that dancing is against the law.

“Y/N, come on let’s dance.” Woody’s girlfriend says to me, leading me to the middle of the huge crowd of people dancing.

I start to dance and I get into it and I hear people cheering, I don’t know why for me or for another person. I continue dancing and noticing no one is dancing, just me. I got kinda nervous but I continue to dance. Ren starts dancing with me, I follow his lead, until I notice Ariel so I stop and faked a reason why I’m going to Rusty and the rest of her friends.

“Attention. Attention. Ariel Moore, will you please come to the front of the diner? Your daddy is here for you.” Claude says in a speaker.

Ariel leaves with her dad. “Daddy’s gon’ take her out to the woodshed.” Willard says.

“What does that mean?” I said looking at him.

“It means she’s in deep shit.”

What is wrong with the county?

I got to know Rusty friends a lot better, especially Willard, he told me about his personal life and what even happens at this county. I can’t stop looking in his eyes but I can’t help it. He seems like a sweet guy to me.

Ren gets in an invite to go to the speedway and Woody, Willard, Rusty, Woody’s girlfriend and I go to support Ren and I notice the gang, they are creepy to me. I get uncomfortable by approaching them and Willard notices me get uncomfortable so he holds my hand. The words I’m even hearing right now get me uncomfortable. I don’t want to be here.

“I love that lil dance you were doing last night. Noticed that you can swing your hips like, what are they called, a stripper.” Chuck says to me.

He’s friends giggle.

“Thank you, didn’t notice a maggot was looking at me being a pervert.” I said back.

He wants to kill by the way he’s looking at me.

“Now, how about you start dancing with this.” Chuck says to Ren getting in a tractor.

I hate this.

The race starts and I get nervous because some of Chuck’s gang get in three buses. I hope Ren survives this. My friends and I get up to where the flags are at.

“Go Ren!” We all say.

Ren is winning but we saw the most terrifying things I’ve ever seen. The buses tipped over and destroyed. Ren tries to stop and Woody and Willard goes out there to save him. Ren jumps out with Willard and Woody.

“Holy shit!” I say. Rusty laughs at my comment.

THE NEXT DAY

I get to the library to study for some things in some of my classes and I notice someone in the corner of my eye and it’s one of the guys from yesterday.

“Can I talk to ya.” He says.

I ignore him.

“Listen, yesterday was cool wasn’t?”

I stay silent.

“You’re actually kinda cute. Wanna somewhere more private?” He says.

“I don’t want to.” I said to him.

“Come on, a girl like you, might get a baby in her belly.” He says with a disgusting smirk on his face.

“I gotta go.” I get my things and try to leave but he stops me and tries to touch me.

“Let go of me you creep!” I struggle and kick his dick.

“Excuse me?” A librarian says.

I look at him and he takes me to the principal’s office.

AT THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE

“Now Ms. Y/L/N, why did you kick Rich?” Principal Roger says to me with the librarian and a cop in the room.

“Rich tried to touch me! And he, he wanted to rape me.” I said.

“Now Y/N, tell us the truth, what did he do to you to make you hit him.” Principal Roger says.

“What I just said.” I say looking in his eyes.

“Well he said that he was trying to help you with your homework.” He says to me.

“He’s lying!” I kinda yells.

“Now Y/N-“

“He told me that a girl like me can get pregnant!” I interrupt him.

“Then why did you kick him?” The librarian says.

I make a big sigh and say, “He sexually harassed me!”

“I know Rich won’t do that.” The cop says.

“Are you kidding me? Does anyone in this town understand about sexual harassment or assault?” I question.

“We do Y/N.” Principal Roger says.

Bullshit.

“Y/N, here’s your ISS slip and have a good day.” He says.

I take the slip out of his hand and look at it and look at him.

“You guys really don’t know what’s going on with women today don’t you?” I says and walk out of the office and went outside to get out of this hell hole.

“Y/N/N!” Ariel says to me but I ignore her.

“Y/N, what’s the matter?” She comes close to me.

I look at her, “Had the worst god damn day of my life.” I say.

“You wanna talk about it?” She says.

“I prefer not to, you won’t believe me.” I walk away.

“What happened?” She yells at my direction.

“You won’t even care!” I yell back.

I get in my car to drive at some abandoned warehouse. I get out of my car and start to get out and then start to think on what just happened at school.

“HE ASSAULTED ME, HE TRIED TO TOUCH ME AND I GET DETENTION!” I yell.

“IM NOT A STRIPPER CHUCK, ASSHOLE!” I yell again.

I start to cry and I sit on the floor and bawled my eyes out. Why do people don’t take women seriously? I curl up in a ball and cry to myself. I hear some footsteps, I look where the noises are at and it’s Willard.

I whimper a bit.

“What’s wrong?” Willard said walking up to me.

“I got in school suspension.” I wipe my tears off my face.

“What happened?” He sits next to me.

“That guy yesterday, Rich, he tried to touch me and he, he told me I would look good pregnant, and when he was trying to touch me, I kicked him in the ball sack.” I look at him.

“And you got suspended?” He questions.

I nod.

“Y/N/N, I’m sorry that happened to you.” Willard says and hugs me, I hug him back, I cry again.

“Those guys are assholes.” Willard whispers in my ear.

I giggle. “They really are. Does this town even care about women’s rights at all?” I stop hugging him and look at him.

“Apparently not.” He says.

I look down at the ground and Willard makes me look at him. I look at him with teary eyes, he kisses me. I kiss him back. He’s the only guy I can trust to be around me including Ren and Woody.

We stop kissing and he gets my hair away from my face.

“I wanna go home.” I said.

“I’ll take you home Y/N/N.” He says.

“Really? I mean I can drive myself.” I said.

“No, I insisted Y/N/N.” He holds his hand out for me so he can help me back up on my feet.

He helps me up and I give him my car keys. I get in the passenger seat and Willard gets in the driver’s seat.

“You ready?” He says looking at me.

“Yeah.” I look at him.

He drives away from the abandoned warehouse, I can’t believe what happened today. He pulls up to my driveway but we stayed in my car for a few minutes.

“I have a question Willard.” I look at him.

“Yes Y/N/N?” He looks at me.

“Why aren’t we allowed to dance or play music whatsoever?” I ask.

“Um, Ariel’s brother, Bobby and some of his friends went partying, they were drinking and driving, and they got in a car accident on a bridge.” Willard told me.

“Is that why Ariel is the way she is now?” I ask.

“Yeah, she used to be a goody two shoes back when we were freshman and sophomore and now she’s a rebellious girl who goes to church.”

“I met that type of person and she’s my friend since elementary school and she reminds me of Ariel.” I said to him.

“And she’s the preacher’s daughter.” He says.

I can’t believe that I just heard that, I never knew about that but I remember seeing her at church but never got to meet her.

“And she hangs out with those creeps and the one who tried touching me?” I said.

“Yep.” He says.

“Willard, do you want me to drive you home?” I said.

“My house is three houses down, you know that Y/N/N.”

I never noticed whatsoever.

“Oh I forgot about that Willard.” I said.

“It’s okay.”

Willard and I get out of my car and I walk up to him, he gives me my car keys.

“Again thank you for driving me home Will.” I said looking up at him.

“You’re wel- Will?” He questions.

“Am I allowed to call you that? You can tell me if you don’t want me to call you that.” I say.

“It’s fine. It’s cute that you just said that Y/N.” He gets closer to me.

“I-I love you.” I said.

“I love you to.” He smirks.

We kiss again. I hear giggling and it’s my cousins watching us. I look at them kinda embarrassed. Willard laughs at them.

“Again thank you for driving me home Will.” I said to him.

“Once again, you’re welcome.” He smiles.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”

“Hopefully all because of your stupid in school suspension dates.” He says.

“Don’t remind me.” I said walking to my car to get my book bag and the slip.

“See you tomorrow Y/N/N.” He says about to walk away.

“Hopefully Will.” I said back.

I show my aunt and uncle the slip and obviously they get angry but I tell them the full story and they agree with me but they want me to do the suspension days. I’ll do it but I don’t deserve to go to detention for what that asshole did to me.

I eventually showed and told Ariel the ISS slip and the whole story on what Rich did to me and Ariel confronted Chuck and Rich about it and Chuck beats her up. She tells her father and he slaps her because she’s not a virgin. When she came to my house, I call Rusty to come over and I patch her up. The three of us stayed up talking about my situation including Ariel’s as well but besides that, we talked for hours until we fell asleep on my bedroom floor.

A FEW WEEKS LATER

Ren is teaching Willard to dance. Woody, Ren, his cousins, my cousins and I help Willard to dance and he kinda got the hang of dancing. He asks me to dance with him and I join him. Ren and Woody notice us kinda flirty.

“You guys! There’s children here.” Ren says.

“Oh we caught them kissing a while back.” Sarah, my cousin, says.

“She just exposed you two.” Ren laughing.

We kinda get embarrassed but sometimes we don’t even care what people think of us.

Ren and I keep on helping Willard to dance, he kinda got confused but then one day he danced like Ren. Ren and Willard practiced a dance a week or so and Will finally did it!

A few weeks later, the county including students from Bomont High School and parents went to the county courthouse to talk about why dancing isn’t a crime. I sit with Willard and my aunt, uncle and my cousins sit next to me. Ren talked on the bench and a few hours later, dancing isn’t against the law anymore! So the whole senior class goes to the abandoned warehouse that I went to, to cry my feeling out but this is about Bomont’s first dance. We get decorations up on anything that involves a wall.

THE NIGHT OF THE DANCE

I get my dressed for the dance I hear a knock on the door and it’s my aunt.

“You look beautiful Y/N/N.” She says tearing up.

“Thank you Y/A/N.” I hug her.

“Someone’s waiting for you.” Y/A/N smiles.

“Willard?” I smile.

“Yeah Y/N. He looks really cute.” She whispers in my ear.

I look down, I think she can tell I’m blushing.

“I’m going downstairs, don’t stay up here too long.” She says walking out of my room.

“I will.” I said.

I fix my hair and walked downstairs and see Willard. Looking like country boy. I can tell he looks so happy.

I approach him and he has a crossage in his hand, I believe that my uncle gave him that.

“You look beautiful.” Willard whispers in my ear.

“Thank you.” I say.

He puts the crossage on my wrist and it matches my dress.

“Now you two, have a fun time and if something happens, call me.” My uncle said.

“We will Y/U/N.” I said.

I hug my aunt and uncle including my cousins and Willard drives us to the warehouse.

When we got out of the car we see Chuck, Rich and this other guy approaching us.

“Look who it is, the school’s slut and the school’s cowboy.” Chuck says.

“Let’s not fight alright, Rich how’s your small dick.” Willard says.

“It’s fine. Listen, you need to pay my medical bill.” Rich says directly at me.

“Let’s go Will.” I whisper to Willard.

We try to walk away but Chuck and Rich grab me and the other guy grabs Willard and I try to fight back but they were too strong.

“Do something Willard!” I scream.

“I can’t fight Y/N!”

“Fight Will!”

Willard starts fighting the other guy and I start to fight back Chuck and Rich. Ariel, Rusty, and Ren comes out to us fighting.

“Get your damn hands off of her!” Ariel screams at Rich and Chuck.

I fight with Ariel and I notice that Willard, Ren and Rusty is fighting the other guy. When everything was over Willard approached me.

“Are you okay?” Willard says touching my cheek.

“I’m okay, are you?” I question.

“I am Y/N/N. Let’s get in that warehouse.” He says grabbing my hand and taking me to the door.

Ariel, Ren, and Rusty join us and told us if we’re okay. When we got in the warehouse, music began to play, we danced like it was the last day on earth dancing.

Bomont isn’t that bad, except me getting suspended. I made good friends with the best humans I’ve ever met and I have a boyfriend who’s the most sweetest boy I’ve ever met as well.

Ariel told me this quote one day, ‘Dance like no one’s watching.’ And that’s what I did, danced like no one’s watching.

#fanfic #fanfiction #miles teller #footloose #footloose 2011 #miles teller x reader #willard hewitt #miles teller imagine #willard hewitt imagine #ren mccormick #kenny wormald #ariel moore #dance #willard hewitt x reader #2011 #1980s #willard hewitt x fem!reader #miles teller fluff #kenny loggins

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hoodoo12 · 1 year

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Dec 16th show

This show was the last I'll see till closing night, which I am lucky enough to be able to go to. Is lucky the right word? Shouldn't it be heart-breaking or something? idk

It has been nice to be able to have seen the show a few times, because I pick up new things each time. I don't mean that a lot in the show has changed, but because I familiar with it I'm not hyper-focused on the "action" of the scene and can watch the secondary actors on the stage. I feel like I saw a lot more of the individual clones during TBS, and of course I watched Elliott a little more. (Okay, a lot more, lol)

Dana Steingold was Lydia. She did an excellent job of navigating all of Lydia's emotions, instead of having just one overwhelm the nuance of the character.

Notes from show:

Alex wore a plain white shirt for several of the numbers. But not all of them (TBS, for example). I don't understand why.

Alex mocked my laughter at one point (after 'gay republican'), copying it before going to the next line.

The kid he picked for sad puppet show was right behind us (over our left shoulder). We overheard the family talking before it the show and the kid had never seen it before. His mom had to answer for him because he Alex terrified him mute (the kid was 10, for christ's sake). Alex could def see how uncomfortable the kid was because he crouched down to stare him directly in the eye and shouted, "YOUR PARENTS HAVE MADE A HUGE MISTAKE BRINGING YOU HERE", which only scared the kid more.

During his Katherine Hepburn speech, he pretended to be her down on all fours like they were going to screw doggy style.

During FoTL when David suggests, "act like a baby" Alex says, "What the shit is wrong with you?" and now that's my new favorite line.

Alex fumbled for "Brigadoon". He said, "I know my name is on the marquis, but you'll have to watch a new show. The Maitlands," and then stood there for a moment too long, gestured to them again for more time/effect before finally coming up with the line. The person with me thought since he couldn't remember the word he'd just finish with, " . . . the Maitlands. I'm out of here" and then "Yeah, I'm out of here. Fuck me, I guess" instead of "fuck Brigadoon."

Alex screwed up his mic during SMN. He went a little extra (more on that later) when he pulled back his wig to showcase the maggot brain, which messed it up. He repeatedly had to tap it/adjust it during the song to get it working correctly again. This is the second time I've seen that happen to him; it was pointed out that maybe I'm the common denominator when it stops working correctly . . .

Adam Dannheisser almost lost it when Leslie said "prostitution?" responding to his, "you're my employee and my lover" line. He had to take several moments to compose himself to not laugh. He did it though! Good job!

The guy Alex picked on as "that guy" was wearing a suit. The last time he addressed him, he added, "You got all dressed up tonight and got ROASTED." Pause for laughter. "Thanks for coming."

The guy sitting by me was INTO the show. Like leaning forward to laugh and shaking enough during it he rocked the seats.

The two kids (mid-teens) next to us were NOT into it. I don't know why their mom paid for front row seats for kids who didn't give a shit and who, during "Home", pulled out their phones to check their IG or Tiktok or whatever.

Maybe this is something everyone else was aware of, but the knees on his red suit are completely patched. Like his overcoat and the striped suit, they have these big stitches which I had never seen before. That whole suit looked a little more ratty to me than I remember it.

During COG when he and David swing each other over to stage right, Alex got some serious air. He was literally parallel to the ground (my companion pointed out after the show that I gasped, lol) so David must be gdamn strong to lift Alex like that.

Alex also made not one, not two, but three attempts to kiss David at stage right + made a grab at his crotch. Two of those things David was either not expecting or he's just a really excellent actor. It could be both.

Juno's leg skittered across the floor and almost fell into the pit, which I would have paid extra money to see because what the heck would they do??

Going back to "Alex being extra" . . . during intermission the person I was with was like, "What the hell? Why is he exhausting himself? Did you see? His make up is sliding off his face he's so sweaty and I've never seen him go so ham. This is Beetlejuice, not Alex."

She was genuinely concerned for him. Honestly, me too. He exuded more of a frenetic energy which, while appropriate for the character, was so much for so long the miasma of it hung in the air. Maybe he's just giving his all because the show is closing in 3 weeks. idk But with flu, COVID, and RSV also floating around, I hope he doesn't overstress his immune system so he can close the show out.

#Beetlejuice #beetlejuice broaway #musical beetlejuice #Alex Brightman #Alex brighman appreciation

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tsukiyohanayome · 2 years

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The Cursed Slave ch.1

an: I have no idea how long it's gonna be or whether or not I'm gonna ditch it, since I'm already upset with this fic as my proofreader shits on me and took more than 3 weeks and I didn't hear anything from them since. But I'm very invested in this fic. It's supposed to be a slowburn with eventual smut bc its Sukuna and my brain is rotten. wc: 1.6k tw: slavery??

Sukuna has always had a preference for the innocent ones.

It wasn’t because he wanted someone to take care of or because he liked to be gentle, no. It was rather the opposite. Innocence was fun. Fun to break. He delighted himself in how they always crumbled under his touch, succumbing to what they’d sworn their life to always run away from. It was amusing to play with his victims, play with their emotions, and make them addicted to his presence, his mere attention and physical contact. Addicted to the point of madness.

A slave. An empty shell of what formerly was a human. Why did this happen to me, you wondered, as one of them yanked you harshly by the chains connected to the collar around your neck and handcuffs on your wrists, causing you to fall. – "Pathetic maggot" – he scoffed, lifting your body and throwing you over his shoulder – "Can’t even walk, we probably won’t even make any money off selling you." – he said, carrying you over to the bidding area.

You didn’t care. You didn’t care who is going to buy you or how much they were going to pay for you. It’s not like it matters. You don’t exist. Since that very day when the purge happened in your village, you were dead. They killed you with everyone else. Burned you down with all the houses, crops and memories. Except they didn’t. You and the group of other village girls and young women were spared and took prisoners to be sold. Were you really spared, then? They all were taken with different men, making it impossible to plan any way of escaping as you were completely alone. Where would you go, anyway? Every person you used to know was long gone.

The room is cold and damp, circle shaped with a pedestal in a middle. Filled almost to the brim with monks buying slaves for their kings, as well as nasty drunkards, wanting a toy for their own sick pleasure. The moment you entered the room, sickening catcalling noises hit your ears and you wanted nothing more than to disappear. Your oppressor dragged you on the pedestal and then spun you around, like a little rag doll causing the group of those disgusting barbarians to whine even louder and the auctioneer hushed them to start his speech. – “Gentlemen, please! This one is our last for today, so calm down and we all can go home. Starting price is 1000 gold pieces!” – You hung your head. Your life was worth just a bit more than a couple loaves of bread now. Stinging tears started forming up in the corners of your eyes, as there was a brief silence in the room. Were you worth even less? Will they kill you, if no one buys you?

- “1500!” – shouted one. Strange relief, followed by terror when he continued – “she will make the cutest housewife for me and my men!” – a loud, repulsive smack of his lips filled your head and your stomach dropped. You’ve never been a religious person, but you found yourself praying to any possible god that was out there. Please, please, please NOT him. – "2000!" – Said another. Your body started shaking involuntarily as the bid went higher but you couldn’t dare to look, at who was going to be your next owner. You prayed for all of this to be just a sickening nightmare.

Your blood ran cold when you heard soft but a firm voice say “two million” and, as shocked as the rest of the attendees, you looked toward its source. It was a monk, dressed in a dark blue robe, with chin-length white hair. Your heart started racing, as maybe, just maybe the person you’ll be sold to, won’t be your death, judging by the stoic look of your bidder.

Everyone was too shocked to proceed, the auctioneer sold you to the monk right away.

Grabbing your chains, the oppressor from before was about to drag you to the monk only to be stopped by their raised hand. – “Now, now. There’s no need to be this harsh.” – They spoke elegantly. The tiniest flick of fire lit in your heart, giving you a promise, you desperately tried to hold onto. Were you actually saved now?

The monk came up to you and you lowered your head, not daring to look at them. You’re just an object, after all. You’re not worthy to look at anyone without permission. A hand touched your chin lifting it and you yelped softly at a sudden, gentle contact. They looked into your eyes and smiled. – “Come on, we need to make you look appropriate before you can see the Master. My name is Uraume. Let’s go to your new home.” – Home. You wanted to both laugh and cry at that word. Your home. Flashbacks of the purge immediately hit you and you couldn’t hold the tears that rolled freely down your cheeks.

Your village was your safety. You led a simple life of a young adult woman and helped your parents with daily errands, the farm and the crops. Sometimes you also would help other elderly neighbors as not many of them had kids on their own. The population structure in your village was rather an old one and you didn’t have any plans of changing that. You just weren’t interested in any village man you knew for your entire life. Every single day was the same, but you couldn’t care less. Of course, you longed for some thrill in your life, like from those tales your mom used to tell you. About a young village girl who met a prince and they lived happily ever after. Sometimes you even let yourself fantasize and think about “bad guys” coming to the village and a charming prince appearing out of nowhere, to save everyone and falling in love with you instantly. It certainly was something, that should only be a mere fantasy, right?

Your village was a safe place, after all. Every full moon a sacrifice in the shape of a cow, pig or calf was taken away to the place you would rather not think about. But it kept your village safe. Something, certain someone was protecting your home and you never wanted to delve into details.

You’ve heard a lot about neighboring villages being seized by brigands but nonetheless, the villagers weren’t scared. They said the sacrifices they’re giving suffice and so you were calm about your life as well. Until one day your fantasies became true. But partially.

You woke up to the horrific screams of villagers and the smell of smoke. Looking out through the window you could see the fire, dangerously dancing on the rooftops of the houses you knew so well. You could hear voices you know, screaming, begging for help. Feeling the urge to stand up and do something, help them, fight! Fight? You are a common village girl who can’t even hold a bow properly. Cursing yourself mentally, you opened the window as silently as possible and you slid through. You had to hide, somewhere. But, to your misfortune, the second your feet touched the ground a pair of arms grabbed you, a hand covering your mouth to silence your cries, and you’ve been dragged somewhere.

All the things they’ve done to you and everyone and everything…

Your prince never showed up…

- “Hello?” – a snap of fingers in front of your face brought you back to reality. Before you stand the same, white-haired monk that just bought you. Their dark-pink eyes looking intently at you – “I’ve asked you a question. What is your name?”

Your name? No one’s asked about it in so long, you almost forgot what it was. Did it even matter anyway? You whispered your name, barely audible though – “But I’ll answer to anything my new Master chooses to” – you add immediately.

The monk smiled lightly and reached for a key, that the auctioneer must’ve given them when you were lost in your thoughts and unlocked your handcuffs and the collar, and started walking towards the direction of your soon-to-be-home. A hiss left your lips as you grabbed your wrist to massage the bruised skin. How long were you chained for? Weeks? Months? You don’t even know, time lost its meaning long ago. – “Are... Are you not worried that I might escape?” – you asked sheepishly.

You could hear them chuckle shortly and they looked at you over their shoulder, without stopping – “I know you have nowhere to go, I know what happened to you. Besides, I’m taking you to the safest place you could ever be at. If you’re wanted there.”

The last bit leaves a dreadful chill running down your spine. But… How did they know what happened? You had so many questions forming up in your head and somehow, you felt like you can trust them. Uraume, was it? – “Ummm… U-Uraume…?” – you started, suddenly regretting using their name like this and all you wanted was to crumble into dust. You shut your eyes, waiting for a punishment that didn’t come and only heard a hum in response. Opening your eyes you saw the monk facing you now, their eyes tinted with concern – or so you imagined. – “I… What… Who… Who is going to be my new… New Master?” – you hate how this all sounds on your tongue. you knew you were going to hate them. You just wanted to be free. Not to be someone’s puppet, you wanted to live life again. “I know you have nowhere to go” the echo of Uraume’s words hit you instantly as if to mock your situation.

They smiled at your question, turned away and started walking again. – “Your new Master? It’s Ryoumen Sukuna.”

Your stomach dropped.

©tsukiyohanayome 2022 no next chapter date bc I have no idea and I'm just starting my new work, but I'll try my best to upload it next month or so

taglist: @sakuraryomen01 @xxnghtclls @dr-skazkaif you want to be on the taglist drop an ask or comment here

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #uraume #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryoumen #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #sukuna fanfic #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #the cursed slave

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flmed · 7 months

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roten Wangen &. Lippen, blutverschmierte Zähne &. Finger ; Über das Kauen &. Schmatzen der Todten in Gräbern . . .

carnassial teeth maiming putrescent flesh of own; feasting upon the blood of own's kin––––awake; eternally, immortally.

the death of johann dreyman is an inexplicable one; flamed without burning ashes but an intact body of poisoned lungs, with burnt scars sprawling. those are old wounds; treated &. healed . . . was his death an accident, suicide, or murder ? the body was put laid rest despite unfathomable circumstance of unfinished case––––––––but when a new investigator sought for an answer in the cold graves; he could hear the munching of teeth 'neath the ground; maggots scrawling on the coffin, &. yet they found nothing but bitten shrouds of bloodied marks.

this verse's intended for supernatural / horror themes ; johann has become a nachzehrer, or known as german vampire. comes from german folklore, a nachzehrer is a creature after death that devours its family members upon waking; eating their flesh &. feasting on their bloods. the more they eat, the more they have become immortal. it is said that they could ascend to a church to ring the bells &. bring death to anyone who hears them; becoming the shadow &. lurks into a person's shadow &. eat their body––––they don't become immortal because of bites; it is inexplicable cause, but it is believed they were created because of an inexplicable death or an accidental death, or suicides &. they're alive to devours the last remaining of its family &. search for an answer of their deaths

upon his waking, his body was decaying; it has been three months since his death &. his flesh have been gnawing by maggots. his body was insipid; without blood flowing through his veins &. his heart was not beating anymore. he ate his own burnt mark on the forearm &. shrouds. he clawed alive from the coffin &. the ground &. walked to his home in berlin &. stayed there for several weeks before he went for a hunt. he would eat human flesh to survive, similar to canni.balism but he is dead.

due to the current state of his case is being open &. the police is looking for his corpse; johann is travelling from one city to another countries. the money he has from his work is still accessible.

christian symbols, garlics, sun &. all of things that could kill vampire won't work at him. to kill him is by placing a coin in his mouth &. chopping off his head.

the first victim upon his waking is his ex-wife, anais. as much as he loved her, he ate her alive, from the arm to the feet, to beaten heart. this gives his appearance from rotten flesh, to rejuvenated body. because of his ex-wife reputation as an actress, she was sought by the whole nation. people are speculating on her disappearance, &. connects it to his death &. body's disappearance from cult to a theory that johann &. anais are both alive and well; together somewhere in privacy they couldn't have before

he tried to not go to his cousin, however because of the current state of his case &. his corpse has disappeared, nina whom believed the folklore sought for him &. found him. she would feed him with the organs &. blood she could get from her work in the hospital.

he is now looking for his father, to eat his flesh.

he does not remember the real cause of his death. thus because of this he shall become an immortal forevermore.

#verse. nachzehrer.#﹠﹔ imagery. self. edit.#﹠﹔in character. meta. self.#﹠﹔imagery. self.#and HERE WE GO.#he is just undead cannibal now.#he is not vampire tho but he is also a vampire.

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ponymations · 9 months

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Ayano dialogue: Doki Doki Literature club

Sayori:

“Sayori is such a sweet girl, pity she uses drugs in her off time.”

“I saw Sayori skipping school to tag buildings. You never really know someone huh?”

“Sayori should be careful, her clumsiness might lead to her fall off a building.”

"Sayori looks like a great friend, I would like to hang with her sometime."

“I pop off her scalp like the lid of a cookie jar, her mind melting on my fingers.”

Natsuki:

“I just realized you were talking to Natsuki. Took a minute since she’s SO unremarkable.”

“I cooked something for Natsuki to help her grow! It has a…special ingredient.”

“Natsuki is so cute. I just want to squeeze her until her neck snaps!”

"Natsuki's such a child, reading all of that silly manga. I bet you'd prefer a girl who reads books in the proper age range."

“You know what I heard about Natsuki? Natsuki likes maggots. And I’m gonna tell everyone.”

Yuri:

“So Yuri likes knives? Me too! I’m looking forward to showing her mine.”

“Careful with Yuri, Senpai. I tried talking to her and she cut me. So rude.”

“Did you hear about Yuri’s corpse fetish? It’s probably just a silly rumor.”

"Yuri's sophisticated act doesn't fool me, because I know what's she's hiding. Want me to tell you senpai?"

“I brandish my cutting knife, the raccoon flees in fear. A rush of blood. I slice it’s flesh. And I feed my love again.”

Monika:

“It looks like I have a tough opponent…for martial arts! Definitely that.”

“That Monika girl is weird, she told me I don’t belong in this game. What does that mean?”

"Do you know where Monika went? I could have sworn she was just here. I wanted to…tell her something."

"Dammit, where is she? I'll find her. Oh senpai! Didn't see you there. Just talking to myself."

"In your reality, if she doesn't love you, then I will."

Responses:

Sayori:

"Someone left a creepy poem about death in my locker today. I asked the other members and it wasn't any of theirs. Weird."

"Last night, I heard a strange voice while trying to sleep. It said awful things but I'm pretty sure it was just my inner voice."

"Oh my gosh! I found a noose hung outside my door! Who would do that?"

"Someone pushed me down the stairs today. Luckily I'm fine but the person left before I could see them."

"There's a girl hanging around school I've never met before. Maybe I can show her around sometime!"

Natsuki:

"I baked cupcakes this morning, but after a few minutes away I found they were all smashed! Whoever did this will regret messing with me!"

"I got a nasty email today. It said to watch my back or I'll die. Can I stay at your place tonight?"

"I found a dead mouse at my door. It was really gross. Did a cat leave it there?"

"I saw a girl staring at me at the store. They were holding a knife and it gave me chills. I told someone but she disappeared. Hope I never see her again."

"Help me! My manga showed up at my house. I don't know how they got there but we need to take them back before dad sees them!"

Yuri:

"Ever since I started reading the new horror novel, I've been feeling chills, like I've become part of one. Maybe I'm more invested than I thought."

"I found all my knives on the floor today. One of them wasn't mine and was covered in blood. I washed and kept it but it's still concerning."

"Someone sent me a gravestone with my name on it. It's actually really cool! I'll use it for this year's Halloween."

"I almost stepped on an exposed wire. It was outside my house like someone left it there. But why would someone do that?"

"OH! Someone tried choking me today with my scarf. Luckily, I had a knife and scared them away. I'm still shaken though, so can you walk home with me?

Monika:

"Ayano Aishi from Yandere simulator. Never had another game character visit my game before."

"Ayano's love for you is so strong she's crashing other games now. My love is stronger though, she won't stand a chance."

"I keep trying to delete her file, but it keeps coming back. She's really determined to kill us."

"Ayano doesn't scare me. She's such a stereotype that I can predict what she's going to do. The threatening letters, the watching through the windows, the gifts. Called them every time."

"It's actually becoming funny to watch her fail to kill me. I might keep her around a little longer before banning her file."

#crush crush #crush crush ayano #ayano aishi #doki doki literature club #doki doki monika #doki doki sayori #doki doki literature girls #ddlc monika #ddlc yuri #yuri ddlc #natsuki #sayori #crossover

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amalia-uwu · 2 months

Text

S K Ó L I X

ΣΚΏΛΗΞ

I DONT OWN -> Undertale, Horrortale, Farmtale, the rights go to the respective owners. I only own my original characters and this fic.

Undertale by Toby Fox

Horrortale by Sour Apple Studios

Farmtale by GuinongTale_AU

Cover

Warnings ⚠️: angst, unrealistic medical stuff, inaccurate medical stuff, formication / tactile hallucinations, self-injury (due to hallucinations) angst, hurt / comfort, maggots, implied rotting of bones, blood, (let me know what else).

Headcanon

They still breathe even tho they don't have lungs.

The air is turned into magic or something.

They can smell but maybe not exactly like humans.

The sense of breathing and smelling, tasting, hearing It's slightly different from humans.

Due to magic they can detect more smells than the average human.

Skeleton Monsters are more sensitive than humans.

The senses of smell and taste even hearing. It's stronger to skeleton monsters than humans.

Maybe it's survival technique the skeleton monsters developed to evolve.

All in all, skeleton monsters have higher sense of smell, taste and hearing than humans.

❤️💚🧡❤️💚🧡❤️💚🧡❤️💚🧡

It was around 21.00 at night.

As Saejun was resting; he felt a stabbing pain at his neck, that traveled all over his body. His face scrunched in discomfort.

However as the intensity of the pain rose he wide opened his eyes. He felt someone tearing his soul and body apart.

As if the excruciating pain wasn't enough, he sensed the maggots crawling all over him. His expression morphed in that of horror. He felt them crawling in every spot of his bones. They were many.

He began removing said maggots.

Upon his panic to remove the maggots, he removed the IV. He fell off bed, cracking his shoulder.

He still had the feeling of maggots crawling all over him.

He half crawled and dragged himself towards the corner of the room. He tried to make himself as small as possible.

He kept removing the maggots from his body.

(Back to Ophelia and the others )

Lilian walked closer to Ophelia.

"I have the results; Papyrus was right. The stinger belongs to worm known as Skólix.

Its a dangerous worm for monsters but mostly for skeletons. It can cause:

blindness

impairment of the voice,

paralyzing of the body,

swelling,

dizziness,

fatigue,

headache,

fast soul beat,

formication*,

lunacy.

It depends!".

"Is there a cure?" Ophelia asked. She realized that it was the first time she ever confronted such a case.

She felt helpless but she will not give up! Farmy will go home safe and sound. No matter the cost! She won't let a worm take him away.

She came out of her thoughts when Lilian spoke.

"the cure.. is well... first of all trying to take care of the symptoms. Then using antibiotics, marrow dialysis, vitamins, herbs etc. Organic medicines will do him good as well".

Ophelia looked at the results and inspected them.

Lilian continued explaining. "We need to perform marrow dialysis (similar to haemodialysis) otherwise it will happen again and he might not make it.. His stats are already too low".

Ophelia was reading and seeing through the notes and pages.

Lilian went on with the explanation.

"It says here that it may cause:

Sepsis or other infections.

It can lead to his bones rotting.

If we don't do something..

He might loses his vision permanently.

He might suffer from a soul attack.

Even go insane

...possibilities are many.

One thing is certain.. If we don't cure him in time.. He will suffer.. This worm is tricky because it has two stingers...-".

Ophelia froze "-two...?"

Lilian thought for a second and he froze as well "we removed only one..."

"....."

Uh oh.

"I'll prepare the equipment.." Lilian said running hurriedly.

_____________________

Agatha went to check up on him.

As she walked in, she saw the bed empty.

She tried to stay calm. She heard; soft ragged breaths, whining, groaning and the sound of bones being scratched.

She found him in the corner.

"Hey, is everything okay? Are you in pain?" She attempted to go closer but, he surrounded himself with blue attacks and bones.

Agatha slowly backed away. Among the blue attacks and bones she noticed; the panicked, frantic look on his face. The scratches all over his bones but mostly the hands and face.

She pressed a button on the wall and called Ophelia "He seems to be hallucinating, he clenches his head, he is in pain! I can't go closer he has surrounded himself with bone attacks".

As soon as Ophelia heard it her heart skipped a beat. She ran towards the room. "Farmy?!"

He was in the corner shaking like a leaf in strong wind. They could hear his bones rattling.

He was clenching his face and his bones.

"Sans.... we mean no harm, we are here to help you!" Ophelia tried, but nothing happened.

He moved further into the wall.

Ophelia and Agatha looked at each other. Ophelia pulled her phone out and called Papyrus.

(Back to Papyrus & Axe)

They had just finished dinner. He was washing the dishes. Axe was drying and organizing them on the cabinet.

One plate slipped from Papyrus's hands and shattered into pieces.

Axe turned his attention to Papyrus and asked concerned "Are you okay? Did you get cut?"

Papyrus's hands trembled a little "Im fine! It just slipped..."

Axe felt a twinge of agony in his soul. Papyrus began picking up the broken pieces. Axe decided to stay silent.

He didn't know that Papyrus felt the exact same twinge of agony but stronger...

Papyrus silently picked up the broken pieces.

After a few minutes..

His phone rang. Both of them looked at it.

"Axe could you please pick it up?" Axe nodded.

"It's... Ophelia..." that caught both their attention. They silently looked at each other. He put it on speakers.

"Ophelia?" Axe asked slightly alarmed.

"We have a problem, I need you to come here". She sounded urgent.

"Is he okay?!" Papyrus asked quickly.

"He won't let us go near him, It's best you come here as fast as you can.. He has surrounded himself with attacks and he seems to have lost contact with reality".

"on my way!" Papyrus said as calmly as he could master.

He looked at Axe "Do you know a shortcut?". Axe smiled "Of course I do. Come!".

He held Papyrus's humerus and teleported right there.

...........

They saw the doctors.

"Ophelia?" he walked towards her. She looked behind her "We can't go near him. Im afraid he might hurt himself more".

Axe attempted to ran close to his side; Ophelia grabbed his humerus "NO!! Not yet!" she said firmly.

Axe nodded. They stepped back leaving more space.

Ophelia looked at Agatha "Agatha go meet Lilian and help him prepare the surgery room. This worm has two stingers. We removed one. After we remove it, we will take him next room for marrow dialysis".

Agatha nodded and went into action.

Papyrus took a deep breath and walked towards him. Ophelia grabbed his shirt "Papyrus...!!"

Papyrus looked at her calmly. "He is my brother Ophelia, I got this! Besides, you called me for help" he assured.

Ophelia let go.

Papyrus quietly walked closer, he stretched his phalanges.

"Sans?" Papyrus tried.

Sans slowly perked up at the sound of his voice.

He removed the attacks from around him and summoned them behind Papyrus.

They were gasps but Papyrus was calm.

That was one step.

"He is just confused and scared. He means no harm, I'm fine. Stay back!" Papyrus informed calmly.

Among the chaos Sans attempted to talk but no words came out.

Papyrus's soul clenched. He decided to use their brotherly bond.

Their souls shone. Sans's (faint) bright green. Papyrus's vivid peach. He closed his eyes. When he opened them; they were in a dark room.

Sans was before him. On his knees. Papyrus knelt.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Sans: “...pap..?”

Papyrus: “Sans, what's wrong?”

Sans: “they won't leave me alone”

Papyrus: “They?”

Sans: “the maggots, they are crawling all over me... i remove them but they keep appearing more and more”.

Papyrus carefully shuffled closer to him. He noticed dark veins spreading from Sans's neck. He stayed calm. Abrupt moves will make things worse.

Papyrus: “I see...Sans, brother? Do you trust me?”

Sans “of course i do paps!”

papyrus carefully caressed Sans's bones "removing the maggots". Sans flinched.. But it felt nice.

Sans: “pap! It's dangerous, they will bite you too!”

Papyrus: “I'm helping you remove the maggots. They won't bite me, I'm wearing gloves. I won't let them harm you. Do you feel better? Do you want me to stop?”

Sans: “No please, it... it feels nice... thank you!”

Sans closed his eyes. His shoulders slightly relaxed. Papyrus's soft touch alleviated the suffering.

Papyrus: “Ophelia and the doctors are here to help you with that. Axe is here! I am here! Trust us! Trust me!”

Sans: “Papyrus I am scared”

Papyrus: “I am here! We are all here! We had our ups and downs like all siblings but, don't we go through everything together ? You won't be alone Sans! I promise! And I keep my promises!”

Sans: “...Will you forgive me?”

Papyrus: “Why Sans?”

Sans: “...For all this...”

Papyrus: “I am not mad! I am just worried, you would do the same for me. However, I forgive you! If this makes you feel better!”.

Papyrus stopped caressing Sans's bones and stretched his hand.

Papyrus: “we will take care of everything together! All of Us! I believe in you! I promise.. We got you Sans!”

Sans: “Thank you!”

Sans reluctantly stretched his phalanges towards Papyrus's stretched ones.

They were brought back to the room.

Papyrus felt weak phalanges taking a hold of his. He opened his eyes.

The bone attacks disappeared. Sans was holding his phalanges.

Papyrus opened his eyes. He saw sans slouching forward.

Papyrus gently took him in his embrace protecting him from the world. He noticed that the, dark lines like veins were spreading faster than before.

Sans's body felt heavy in Papyrus's embrace.

Sans turned his head away from Papyrus. Sans coughed and spat rotten magic and blood.

Sans's magic began oozing again from his eyes, nose and teeth.

He was wheezing and shaking.

Papyrus gently picked him up and walked outside. Sans was slack in his brother's humeri.

Ophelia looked at them, her soul sunk at the depth of her stomach.

"Oh, no!" She gently held Sans's forehead and sternum.

She took a magic liquid from her pocket and injected it to Sans's humerus.

"Follow me Papyrus!" she urged.

Axe and Papyrus followed Ophelia. They went to the surgery room, it was enormous.

Sans squirmed in discomfort. A couple of tears ran down his eyes.

They looked at him sympathetically.

Ophelia injected a sedative at the side of his neck.

Papyrus laid him on the bed and attempted to leave. However Sans, despite the sedative, was restless.

Ophelia allowed Papyrus to stay in; "Papyrus? I'll have my nurses give you a robe to put above your clothes. Then I would like to keep his head as steady as you can".

Papyrus nodded.

The nurses helped Papyrus get dressed.

(those clothes doctors wear in surgery rooms, it's mostly for Sans's safety. What Sans has is not contagious).

Then carefully examined his neck. Papyrus was observing.

Axe was outside. After around 7 minutes they found the second stinger..

Papyrus was holding his head on the side softly caressing his cheekbones.

Sans made some inaudible mumbling and raspy sounds.

More magic oozed (eyes sockets, nasal cavity and teeth) and some of it was spilled on Papyrus's gloved phalanges. "It's okay brother!"

It took around 5 minutes for her to remove it. Blood, fluids and slightly rotten magic oozed.

Agatha gently patted the spot on his neck, with an antiseptic liquid on a gauze.

Ophelia held it in the light and inspected it.

This stinger was slightly bigger than the previous one.

Papyrus grimaced.

"Good job everyone! Now, Lilian, Hermione go active the machine for marrow dialysis in the next room".

Lilian and Hermione nodded.

Ophelia added a gauze on his neck.

Agatha gently wiped the oozing magic. Agatha took a syringe.

She carefully let small droplets of the green magic liquid close to his teeth.

Sans's magic absorbed it weakly.

Then Agatha added a breathing equipment (mask) on his nasal cavity and teeth. "I need you to inhale it. Deep breaths. You can do it".

(Note: she is doing it that way, so his soul won't be overwhelmed. By absorbing too close and too fast.)

Sans tried to follow Agatha's orders.

At first, his breaths were uneven.

Slowly he manage to control them and took deep breaths.

Agatha kept encouraging him to breathe.

Papyrus gently caressed the side of his skull.

Soon Sans breathing became even. He was now breathing slowly and evenly.

The magic stopped oozing. Agatha removed the breathing equipment (mask).

She kept with the syringe on his teeth.

After a few minutes, she injected a medicine in the IV.

"Papyrus?" Ophelia began. He looked at her.

"Farmy here, is a lucky skeleton, having a brother like you.. If it wasn't for you and Axe he wouldn't be here.. You did our job so much easier! We wouldn't have found it without you.. Thank you Harvey!"

Sans's soul shone. Ophelia noticed it, "Seems like he agrees".

Papyrus's cheeks had a dark pinkish hue. He smiled softly at the compliments..

He spoke lowly.

"Thank you and your team Ophelia! You and your team did your absolute best to help my brother, I know a simple thank you is not enough but.. Thank you for everything! You have my gratitude!"

Ophelia smiled.

Sans's soul shone weakly, both Ophelia and Papyrus felt a soft

“Thank you!” echoing in their souls.

Ophelia and Papyrus grinned.

END OF CHAPTER 6

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Likes, reblogs, Comments, feedback, Constructive Criticism, fanfics, fanarts are welcomed! 💙

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moonlightdancer26 · 2 years

Note

The reason why I don't ship Harmione is because through the series, Hermione does things for both of the boys that a responsable older sibling would. She warns them of potential dangers since book one, helps them do their homework and explain to them how dating works. In the seventh novel, she even cooks their meals and nurses a sick Ron, while dealing with Harry's unfortunate combination of horcrux and PTSD. There is also the fact Harry occasionally obeys Hermione and never once shows anything remotely sexual for her in the books, and actually finds her annoying on multiple occasions. And it's not because he considers her physically unattractive, it's just that he seems to consider her a friend, almost a sibling. Also, in the first novel, it's established that Harry's dream is to have what Ron has: a big happy family with both his parents still alive. Plus, in the seventh, despite the fact Dudley was mean to him since they were both one (exept after the dementor attack), Harry finds himself nostalgic when the Dursley's home is empty and lacking the presence of Dudley. That's why I don't read Harry's affection for Hermione as romantic, but rather a sibbling-like relationship from an orphaned boy who grew up with almost nothing but abuse for ten years of his life, and he might subconsciously look for a big sister figure in Hermione.

Ahhh, seeing this grew all my brain-cells back. He saw her as an older sister—he even said it himself (1. Take THAT, Harmony shippers 😌 2. The sister part, not the older bit). If he had feelings for her, we obviously would’ve been told like with Cho and Ginny (and this one would be a bigger deal, since Mione’s one of his BEST friends), y’know… given that the entire fucking story is told from his Point Of View. He didn’t even feel anything when she kissed him on the cheek in GoF—not even when two years later he felt ✨that✨ feeling when Ginny patted him on the shoulder or when she leaned in and got the maggot out of his hair—but he instead felt annoyed/slightly uncomfortable with all the affection and care Mione was giving him. And she was rarely ever the first person Harry went to ask for help/advice because pretty much all she does to boss Harry around and tell him what to do (and what not to do). That’s not even going through most of it.

Bonus: He only ever found her attractive when she drastically changed her physical appearance (the Yule Ball).

#anti harmony #harry potter #harry james potter #hp

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residents-of-the-darkforest · 1 year

Text

Dark Forest Resident: Isopodbrain

Aliases / Nicknames: Isopod

Gender: tom

Sexuality: homosexual

Family: Milky (mother), Brokenpond (father), Mira (aunt), Frozenpounce, Boulderrun (brothers), Lilactail (sister

Other Relations: n/a

Clan: N/A

Rank: rogue

Characteristics: small, skinny, sweet and talkative, Devon Rex, collects feathers

Number of Victims: 2

Number of Murders: 2

Murder Method: poisoning, asphyxiation, stuffing feathers and foxglove into prey, clawing eyes

Known Victims: unknown cat, Boulderrun

Victim Profile: the infected, his brother

Cause of Death: asphyxiation, choking

Cautionary Tale: N/A

Story:

Isopodkit was found at the border, abandoned.

He was considered scrawny, and his fur was too short to survive Leaf-bare. Brokenpond wanted to leave him, but his kits begged their parents to take in the scared kit. And so, the absurdly tiny cat was taken in. He grew up with his siblings, who had apparently left the Clan when the sickness plague hit.

Milky and Brokenpond had taken their kits and raised them as rogues. Growing up, he resented the teasing from kittypets and loners about how he was more of a mouse than a cat due to his small size. His brother supported him when the teasing turned to outright attacks.

He felt pathetic. He couldn’t even fight a bunch of kittypets. Isopodpaw hated them. He constantly talked about how much they annoyed him, how mean they were.

It was after he hissed at a Kittypet kit that his mom sat him down, and Milky confessed to him that she had been a Kittypet. He was so guilty he ran out. How could he have said those things?

He ran through the forest and fell into a ditch. He yowled for help, waiting for hours. The forest grew dark, and he shivered from the cold. He kept repeating that his brother would come for him, growing more desperate. Like always, his brother was there to pull him out.

Boulderpaw was furious, and yelled at him about how he was reckless and useless. He instantly apologized to Isopodpaw, reassuring him that he wasn’t and that he was just stressed.

When he got home, he cried and cried that he was sorry. And Isopodpaw broke.

He didn’t talk much for weeks, barely leaving the den to do more than collect feathers. Isopodbrain didn’t realize how lucky they were to have taken him in until he saw his first infected.

Its mouth was frothing, and its body was… rotting, and it rank of maggots. He didn’t even find out its name, his brother shoving him up a tree. They had waited for hours for it to go away, the cat scratching at the trunk in desperation to get at them.

To their horror, it managed to climb up, its jaws snapping a tail-length away from them. Isopodbrain reached out in a panic, sinking his claws into its eyes, and it yowled a horrid scream that would repeat in his head for days. It fell back, and he heard a crack. Its body twitched, and went limp.

Boulderrun carried him by the scruff back to camp, both in shock.

He’d killed someone.

He was skittish after that, but because they’d proved they could take care of themselves, he was finally allowed out alone for a short trip to Twolegplace. Over the past few weeks, the kittypets stopped attacking him. Mostly. Bodies were being found in allyways, necks ripped apart.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and continued on the path to the Twoleg dens to find his brother.

His trip went well, and he had a fun time hopping from fence to fence. He had paused to look at a cool flower below him, and felt claws dig into his tail, yanking him down.

He screamed and screamed as his tail was clawed, exposing bone. He was slammed against the ground, and felt dizzy. The large rogue wasn’t infected, though. It snarled at him that this was what he would get from killing the Kittypets, and Isopodbrain had gaped in confusion.

He’d felt so dizzy from the pain, only glimpsing his brother on top of the fence before he squeezed his eyes shut. He heard his brother call down that he was the one they were looking for, and he felt sick. Boulderrun had killed all the kittypets? His sweet, protective brother?

The claws removed from his tail, and he heard them tumble around in the yard for a few moments before he heard choking and gargling. He shivered, frozen in shock of the news and worried that his brother might be hurt.

He was going to die, and his brother was dying. But, after a few moments, Boulderrun tapped his shoulder, and helped pull Isopodbrain to his feet. He was carried home, where his tail had to be amputated because of the damage. It took a long time to heal, and he began to recognize herbs quite easily.

There was a lot of time to think. Every time his brother went out, was he killing someone? When he came home smelling of rogues, were they dead too? When Mira the Kittypet had kits, they all went to meet them. Mira and Milky had been littermates, and the four kits were healthy, squirming at their mother’s belly.

While their mothers talked, his gaze shifted to his brother, who was looking at the kits. Isopodbrain knew, right then and there, that his brother wanted to kill them.

When they were home, he acted quickly. He stuffed as many feathers and foxglove into his prey as possible, and that night when Boulderrun started choking, his mouth frothing, his family panicked.

They waited warily for an attack, assuming he’d been infected. But he only collapsed, and Isopodbrain ignored his families’ warnings as he pressed himself against Boulderrun’s side while he died, his head resting on Boulderrun’s back. They stayed like that until the body grew cold, and Isopodbrain felt sick to his stomach.

He had to do it.

But as his mother turned over the prey, seeing the foxglove and feathers, she knew it was him, and a wave of guilt hit him.

His head spun, and he impulsively bit into the prey, and stared choking on the feathers. His mom tried to help him, but it was too late.

Additional information:

--Submission by @wills-woodland-warriors

--Should he belong in the Dark Forest, considering he only killed a mass murderer and an infected, which would have died a painful death few hours later anyway?

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fcb3 · 2 years

Text

A girl came from outside India to join Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity.

"We have a rule that the very next day new arrivals must go to the Home for the Dying. So I told this girl: "You saw Father during Holy Mass, with what love and care he touched Jesus in the Host. Do the same when you go to the Home for the Dying, because it is the same Jesus you will find there in the broken bodies of the poor."

And they went. After three hours the newcomer came back and said to me with a big smile - I have never seen a smile quite like that -- "Mother, I have been touching the body of Christ for three hours." And I said to her: "How -- what did you do?" She replied: "When we arrived there, they brought a man who had fallen into a drain, and been there for some time.

He was covered with wounds and dirt and maggots, and I cleaned him and I knew I was touching the body of Christ."

#faith

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shadowgurl101 · 1 year

Text

Chapter VI (The Townspeople party)

masterlist

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The day has come when the townspeople of both Lune and Sol are invited to the castle of either kingdom to celebrate the name day of two royals. Again in the castle Luna, every servant is busy preparing the room where the party will be, the royals once again getting their gowns and dresses fit for the party.

Amalthea look at herself in the mirror and smile "Lady carmen you always know how I like my dresses" Carmen smiled and finish the last touch "Thank You princess" Amalthea doors chambers open, and her sister Queen Europa entered, Carmen quickly bowed to her and continue her work "Excited sister?" she asks her younger sister as she sat down in one of the sofas in Amalthea's chamber "Of course I am, I love celebrating my name day with the townfolks" Europa smile, ever since Amalthea and Nash were little they sneak out to the town and make friends and since then the two teens always demand the townspeople to be included in their name day "You really love them?" Amalthea smiled and watch as the townfolks entered the castle "They are my future sister, I'll be the one protecting them next" Europa smiled and went to hug her.

Meanwhile, The Targaryen mines the children were with the Queen and King, a maester of Lune tenting Viserys "Your majesty forgive me but why does lune maester have to take care of the king when he has his own" Otto asks the Queen who only looks at him "Maester Carlos has worked with this type of condition before, he taught me, my mother, sister, and daughters on how to take care of any wound" Otto look annoyed but hold it in knowing if he says anything else the queen will kill him "Excuse me, your grace, did you say that Maester Carlos has seen this before?" Rhaenyra ask looking at her husband and back to the queen "Yes, maester Carlos has worked this with my father when he was younger, my father cut his hand with his iron sword and he thought of nothing until he was feeling horrible, he went to maester Carlos and maester Carlos quickly mix up some herbs and it helps my father, of course, it didn't help right away my father had to take the herb every day until he was better" Aquila got closer to both viserys and the maester "We found pit it was an infection giving by the iron, so my father decided that all the kingdom have this medicine because we all have something made out of iron in our homes, do every day we take this medicine for one year and then we will not be too affected" Otto just look at the queen with narrow eyes "What effect will it give my brother?" Daemon asked as he got closer to his brother " Well the king's condition is more advanced than any case we had but if we make the medicine stronger and he takes it every day his health will make progress" Rhaenyra sighed with relief and became curious, Aquila mother and sister entered the room, Vega with a bunch of herbs in her hands and a bag hanging from Capella's shoulders "I have a question maester, Carlos" she said as she watches Vega and Capella mixing a bunch of ingredients together "Ask away princess" maester Carlos said as he start to wash his hands with a bowl that holds warm water "Does milk of poppy and maggost eating the infected flesh help my father with his condition?" Otto look at the princess and was about to talk when a voice stoped him "Milk of poppy and maggots?" Capella said with horror in her eyes.

Daemon and Rhaenyra look at each other " Milk of poppy only will help with the pain but not with the infection, while maggots...I believe maggots just make the infection worse" Maester Carlos said as he pour the medicine into a cup, Daemon and Rhaenyra looked at Otto and Alicent with murderous faces"You must be wrong then because it has been helping the king" Vega got closer to the hand "Maester Carlos cure my late husband with this same medicine when he had this condition and lived, are you really doubting a medicine that helped a king?" Otto just stayed silent "soror, faciamus aliquid de hoc, illa duo sunt occisio eum" Capella share her concern with her sister "bene dicis" the queen got up from her chair "As Queen of lune I decided to make maester Carlos the kings caretaker while he and his family stay in lune" Otto looked angry but stayed quiet along with his daughter who only nodded, meanwhile Rhaenyra look relive and smiled "My Queen during the kings and his family stay the king will be making process" Aquila nodded and look at the king "I would do anything to make sure you be healthy and that rhaenyra sits in that throne" she whispers to the king who can barely look at her.

Nash looks at himself in the mirror and smiles "look at you, you are about to turn ten and five, and soon going to be the king of Sol" Nash turned around and saw his father standing behind him "Deus you scared me!" Arthur chuckled and got closer to him "You have made me and your mother proud son" nash smiled and wrap his arms around his father "Now come on it's time to celebrate" Nash nodded and follow his father.

All the townspeople and houses are standing around the ballroom, eating and drinking. The main doors of the room open, and the Solar family enters with Queen Aquila and King Epsilon in front and behind them Princess Amalthea who was waving and smiling at the common folks, The royal family of Lune got to their sits and stand in front of them and watch as the Martell's family entered the same pattern as the Solar's. Queen Aquila smiled and look at everyone in the room "Thank you all for being here to celebrate the week of the princess and prince name day, Enjoy yourself" Music started playing after Aquila's speech. Amalthea looked around the room and smile seeing everyone happily dancing, her parents already on the dance floor.

Viserys watch his daughter and brother dancing together "Would you like to dance my king?" a calm voice said behind him, Europa stand there with a kind smile and a hand in front of him "Queen Europa I believe that the king is too sick to dance" Alicent said but Europa just look at her and return her vision to the king "I will be honored" Alicent shakes her head "Husband you are sick" Viserys just shakes his head "Maester Carlos said that moving would be good for me" Europa softly took the king and guide him to the dance floor where a lot of folks made space for them. Rhaenyra gasped, tears forming in her eyes as she watches her father dance, her husband Daemon also watch his brother dance, right there Rhaenyra was so glad to see that the medicine is helping her father. Europa look at the princess and made eye contact with Daemon who nodded and grab his wife and got closer to the two, Europa look at the king "Why not dance with someone special" Viserys look at her confused but she only smiles and stepped away, Rhaenyra came to view, tears running down her cheeks "father" Viserys smiles and grab his daughter's hands. Alicent watched father and daughter dancing together and a small smile formed on her lips "Queen Alicent would you like to dance?" Alicent looks at the hand and then to the face and saw King Arthur, she looks shocked and looks at the hand for a bit but eventually grabs the hand and lets Arthur guide her to the dance floor. That day the Alicent children saw her smile for the first time.

Aemond looked around the room and made eye contact with Amalthea who wave at him, he just nodded at her making her smile fade a little "A broken heart will be repair by fire" Helaena whispered next to him. Hours pass and the party started to become small little by little "Everyone thank you for coming" Amalthea said as she says her goodbye to all the folks. On her way to her chambers, she saw Aemond taking his brother by the arm "Prince Aemond, prince Aegon is everything alright?" Aemond just stares at her, and Amalthea just sighs and looks at Aegon "If you call maester Carlos he can give your brother something for tomorrow, good night" she walked away her guard following her. Aemond watches as the princess walks away and grabs his brother and takes him to his chambers.

Amalthea sat on her vanity and let her maids brush her hair "Have you talked to you know who" the teen just look at her maid "We decided to stop, said that he was not ready for this responsibility" her maid Angela gave her a quick hug "Love sometimes don't work out, but do not worry a new love will find you" Amalthea nodded and quickly wipe her tears. In bed, Amalthea lays there with a broken heart, her eyes start to close themself putting her into a deep slumber not knowing that her future is in the same castle as her.

====================

Hope you guys like this chapter, and im sorry if this took a while. Have an amazing day, night, afternoon, or morning.

Translation

soror, faciamus aliquid de hoc - sister, let's do something about this

illa duo sunt occisio eum- Those two are killing him

bene dicis - you are right

This is what I imagine them wearing

Aquila - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/219128338110419256/

Epsilon - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/105693922489894629/

Amalthea - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/770467448754679557/

—---

Europa -https://www.pinterest.com/pin/10766486601834207/

Arthur-https://www.pinterest.com/pin/4644405845823035/

Nash - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/3237030974870641/

#house of the dragon fic #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #viserys targaryen #alicent hightower #Aegon Targaryen #helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen

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gareleia · 1 year

Text

Had Worse

Chapter: 4/6

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Word count: 6071

Relationships: Edward Elric & Roy Mustang

Tags: 5+1 Things, Pre-Canon, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Depression, Racism, Parental Roy Mustang, Everyone Needs A Hug

Summary: Where the fuck did the Colonel find this kid?

5 times Edward said 'I've had worse' and traumatized his poor innocent coworkers with his Tragic Backstory and 1 time he wasn't able to (to everyone's relief).

Read on AO3

Roy had always been different.

From his childhood, when he had desperately tried to fit in the shoes he didn't quite understand, overcome the divide he couldn't comprehend in its superficiality (child of a festival, neighborhood grandmas cooed, and it wasn't right, he didn't understand, why was auntie so angry?); all the way to adulthood when he stopped being human entirely.

He could almost feel it, just beneath the skin, something crawling all around his rotten bones, and on his worst days he wanted desperately to cut open his chest and let the filth spill all over the floors. Roy wanted to see his guts fall out, charred and half-eaten by maggots, wanted to rip off his lying face and expose the sad, horrifying truth.

Look at me, he wanted to scream. Look at the thing you let walk among you.

He was a disease, an infection left to fester for too long, a rabid dog no one had the presence of mind to shoot, he was rotting and rotten, the source and the symptom, the negative space in place of a person bleeding miasma and poisoning everything he touched. People walked around him, glanced at the paper-thin human disguise he wore every single day, and no one ever bothered to look underneath, to uncover the monster in shape of a man.

Roy Mustang has been hiding his true self for as long as he could remember. Technically speaking, 'Roy Mustang' wasn't even a person, just a lie crafted for the sole purpose of legalizing a smuggled kid. Except that lie has grown and matured, and now it was spreading pain and misery wherever it went.

She should've left him in a ditch he was found in. Should've let them sell and use and dispose of him like they planned, because even to him the rescue made no difference. He'd gotten a respite, a few good years before stepping right back into hell of his own stupid accord, and this time there was no ending in sight. No salvation, no concerned information brokers with hearts too damn big for their own good.

He'd been given a second chance he'd done absolutely nothing to deserve, a home and a name, a family, a future - and Roy had torn it all apart. Spat in her face, wasted the life she had gifted him and taken countless others with him.

She should've left him to die, he cried drunkenly and his aunt still held him in her arms, safe and warm and closest to heaven than he'd ever have the right to feel again. As if he was a child again, bawling his eyes out about the kids at school calling him a squint.

She should've left him to die. She didn't. But Roy did. He'd left thousands of children to die in a fire of his own making. Children who, by all accounts, were just like him: unwanted by the government and hated for no good reason. Who'd never deserved even a fraction of what had been done to them. Who Roy burned with his own two hands, he was a mass murderer-

Not too long before that Roy used to be as much of an outsider. A poor little orphan with features too obviously eastern for even a half-breed. A xinee, the neighbors sneered, as he tried his best to act as a good amestrian boy. A squint who could never quite blend in with his blond, blue-eyed peers. A twinkie unwelcome even amongst the other immigrants.

It used to sting, though these days he only vaguely remembered, too swept in his new and horrifying defects to examine the old childhood insecurities. The pain of alienation, the loneliness and the burning need to become someone great, to show them all who they used to shun (I just want to belong somewhere, what am I doing wrong?) - it all seemed so shallow now. So simple and inconsequential.

After Ishval came Roy had started to crave that sting. The thought of dying alone and unwanted no longer tormented him at night (that was the war's job now) but instead became weirdly soothing. He didn't deserve comfort, but the freak he was, Roy still found it in the fact that there wasn't a place for him on this earth. No more monsters like him. He was an exception, not the rule.

And even still he tried his best to fit in with the rest of the population. Not because he wanted forgiveness or companionship-

(he wanted them all to take turns in striking him until there was no skin left to tear apart, no blood to spill, no guts that hadn't already fallen out and been crushed under their feet; he wanted the agony that pervaded his every living moment to be given form, written all over his pathetic writhing wreck of a body; he wanted that sweet taste of hell that awaited him if there was ever any justice in the world to mix with bile on his tongue, he wanted-)

Focus. Not because he wanted companionship, but because if he ever wanted to make Fuhrer he needed the people around him to accept him as one of theirs - or at least as the lesser evil. Most of them had already stopped giving him lip, though whether it was out of fear or respect he couldn't tell. Either way, his physical appearance wasn't going to be much of an obstacle.

On the contrary. If all his superiors ever saw was his admittedly quite charming appearance (too pristine, too clean, too perfect - he'd never needed to come close enough for their blood to stain his uniform) then he damn well was going to use their blindness against them. It wasn't hard to smile and wave when Roy had practically spent his entire life doing that. Let them see a fool, a loyal dog, he was but a tool ready to be used until one day when he'd finally sink his teeth into their throats.

(couldn't they feel his hatred? couldn't they see how he wanted to show to each and every one of them what 'Hero of Ishval' really meant? to snap snap snap and roll on the ground laughing as their whole damn institution was reduced to ash, down to the very last soldier? in the end, the only real difference between him and Kimblee was that he didn't get caught)

Roy had his eyes on the prize. He had a reason to move forward. He had a goal and until he completed it he would dig his nails into his flesh, grit his teeth and appear stable. Keep it together for Riza and Maes, his team and the Elrics, his aunt and his sisters. The ending was closer every day, and he could almost feel the pure cathartic satisfaction, a sigh of relief right before the gunshots.

It was the sole reason he woke up today, extra early, to the familiar stench of whiskey, vomit and despair. An impromptu meeting with the higher-ups in the Eastern Command, bright and early and on his fucking day off, no doubt to bitch him out again for something trivial. With General Grumman backing him Roy had nothing to fear from a bunch of paper-pushers drunk on power. They'd just have to wait and see. When he's the Fuhrer he would personally demote every single one of them to latrine duty.

That, and he would initiate the Miniskirt Mandate. And reform the cafeteria so that the food in there would be actually edible - and include some vegetarian options. And order a sign to be put up in the examination hall with a smiling cow and a phrase: "To pass the State Alchemist exam you need to be this tall!" in big bright red letters, except the height mark would be moved every year to be half an inch taller than Fullmetal-

"SAY THAT AGAIN, YOU PIECE OF SHIT, I FUCKING DARE YOU!"

Ah, speak of the devil, Roy thought. Why did he feel the need to take a shortcut near the dorms when he was still an hour early? And was it really necessary for him to put up with the Elric bullshit when he was already hungover and en route to receive a tongue lashing?

It wasn't too late to walk away. Pretend he never heard anything. Let Fullmetal cause a scene and get in trouble just by proximity.

"I'LL SHOW YOU 'LITTLE' YOU FUCKING DICKWAD! COME HERE AND I'LL BITE YOUR FACE OFF!"

Oh, goddammit.

Roy had made it around the corner just in time to prevent a murder.

"Fullmetal!" he barked, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the boy only stopped because he was startled. "Just what I needed this morning, more of your immature antics. Are you bothering people now?"

That might have seemed cruel, but considering how many times Roy had to smooth things over after Edward threw a tantrum at some random minuscule occurence, it was usually a reasonable first assumption.

"The fuck do you want, you shitty bastard?!" the boy snarled. "These fucks deserve it, you didn't hear what he said!"

He then pointed his finger at one of the three men, the childish gesture clashing with pure murderous rage on his face. The soldier in question, young, thin, tall and with possibly the ugliest bloody mustache Roy had ever seen, backed away warily.

"Master Sergeant Bauer, sir!" he introduced himself to Mustang with a proper salute. "Caught an intruder on the base, requesting permission to make an arrest!"

"Permission denied," Roy shook his head with a tired sigh. "This is my direct subordinate, the Fullmetal Alchemist, Major Elric."

Bauer eeked, looking suitably intimidated. Not that Roy could honestly blame the poor sod for mistaking a thirteen year old out of uniform for a civilian. Although as far as he'd known the Eastern Command staff had learned not to try and stop the kid months ago.

Fullmetal himself was strangely silent, glaring at the man and the two of his friends behind him. Neither of them looked familiar. The one on the right was a young ginger man with ridiculously big ears that were probably going to win him an unflattering nickname soon enough. The left one seemed to be twice as old as the first two, and, by the look of his face, only half as intelligent. Though that might have just been the calvity talking.

Since when had ugliness became a requirement to join the military?

"Master Sergeant Klein, Colonel, sir!" the ginger squeaked at Roy's raised eyebrow.

"Second Lieutenant Dressler, Colonel, sir!" the baldy followed with a lisp.

"I suggest you familiarize yourselves with the sight of Major Elric, Master Sergeants, Second Lieutenant. I trust there won't be any more incidents?"

"No, sir!" all three of them chorused, sounding vaguely like chastised children.

"Good. You must be new to Eastern Command." he said casually.

The silence stretched. Roy knew he didn't outright ask the question, but surely the implication was obvious? Did he need to talk to them like to a five year old? Or worse, Fullmetal? They didn't seem that scared of him, so what else could make them freeze besides stupidity?

Almost a full minute passed with Moustache silently glaring at the ginger. Finally, Ears seemed to have realized that their fate was resting upon his bony shoulders and so he elbowed Baldy on the side.

The state of this country. Roy could feel himself losing brain cells just by breathing the same air as the three idiots. Which made his already pounding head that much worse.

"Yes, sir! All three of us, sir!" managed Lieutenant Waldo (and how did that man make Lieutenant with that level of brain activity?). "Assigned to Colonel Seuss' unit starting today!"

Huh. Poor guys.

"Oh, I see. You're from Applesweet's crew. You best be on your way then, Colonel Seuss doesn't endorse tardiness."

Or degeneracy. He'd bet a thousand on the baldy folding first and requesting a reassignment within the month. If he survived, that is.

"Sir, yes, sir!" the trio saluted again, remarkably in sync.

"You're dismissed."

Were he in a better mood, Roy would've wished them a good day. As it was, he was hungover, mildly irritated and in pain, so they could die in a fire for all he cared.

(children screaming - flesh burning - smells like meat - don't vomit - weak - don't let them see)

"So." Roy turned to Edward, who had been remarkably, wor suspiciously quiet during the exchange. "I have to clean up after you yet again, Fullmetal. Even on my day off."

He expected a snide remark. Something about him being lazy or smug or a million other percieved slights that the brat regularly threw at his face - which, to be fair, was still better than the kid realizing what was actually wrong with Roy (everything) and running for the hills. What he got instead was a sullen, tired glare that spoke more of defeat than real anger.

"Do you expect a fucking gold star for that shit? Nobody asked you to step in."

This was wrong on so many levels. Edward Elric didn't do defeat. He did the impossible with a maniacal laughter and ran exclusively on spite. For fuck's sake, that boy had tried to walk off a bullet wound once!

"Well a 'thank you' would certainly be a start. I did just spare you a court martial by preventing actual bloodshed from occurring."

And that was another thing. Edward was impulsive, aggressive and loud, but he wasn't outright violent unless someone's life depended on it. He never jumped on people who offended him unless Alphonse was there to catch him. The kid must've thought he hid it well, but he wasn't quite as brash and careless as he let on.

Except that when Roy had stumbled upon the scene the boy sounded genuinely furious. What did these men do to incur such wrath? Alphonse wasn't there for them to insult, so was all this ruckus just because of a comment on his height?

"What, you think you helped anyone?" Edward snorted. "These fucks are just gonna corner me later and then I'll kick their teeth in. Now you've just given them more ammo. Thank for that, by the way."

"Fullmetal," Roy stared at him incredulously, he couldn't believe they were having this conversation. "Are you being bullied?"

Was that what he just interrupted? How did he miss something like that?

"No!" Elric hissed, flushing rapidly. "No. I know what bulling is like and that ain't it. I'm used to this bullshit, those losers just really had crossed a line this time."

"Used to what?" Dear fuck did he let grown men beat him up behind Roy's back?

"You know," Edward coughed and shifted awkwardly. "People being assholes. Why do you care anyway, get off my dick!"

Roy suppressed a grimace. He knew that Elrics were orphans and really didn't have anyone to help them clear up their vocabulary, but Alphonse seemed to have managed it just fine. Why couldn't Edward string two words together without cursing?

"The well-being of my subordinates is my utmost priority, Fullmetal. If your safety is being threatened, I need to know."

If Fullmetal's safety was being threatened, Roy would grind the threat in question into fucking dust and then set it on fire. While mocking the kid's every move, obviously, because he didn't want him to get any ideas.

"Oh, for..!" Edward rolled his eyes with a groan. "I'm not being threatened. It's fine, I'm fine. Nobody ever tries this crap with Al around, so I don't even have to deal with it much nowadays."

"Nobody tries what?" it was like pulling nails with him. "How long has this been going on?"

Whatever 'this' is.

"Just... general bullshit. These three dicks are a new development, but the rest of it had always been like that? It was never this bad in Resembool since everyone knew mom, me and Al just got side glances sometimes. Cities are worse because we're not a part of the community anymore. Had guys in the market try to upcharge me more than once, though they usually shit themselves when Al comes along and asks if there's a problem. It's hilarious."

He looked uncomfortable. Roy was uncomfortable too, partially because he was not the right person to comfort a kid and partially because he still couldn't understand.

"I thought people in cities were in favor of the military?"

"That's not the-" Fullmetal smacked his face with his flesh hand. "Do I really need to spell it out for you? Here."

He rolled up his left sleeve and took off his glove. Then gestured at him to do the same. As the boy put their forearms near each other, Roy's heart skipped a beat.

They were so close. Too close. Almost touching. Except Roy couldn't touch him, shouldn't touch him, because he would spread his disease, break the kid, (they're all screaming-)

"See the difference?"

He forced himself back into the moment.

Edward's arm was so painfully small compared to his that Roy felt himself choke a little, both in amusement and in an unexplained, unwelcome grief (he's too young, what has he done?). Strong and solid, with prominent muscles and blond hair so light he wouldn't have seen it if he wasn't looking closely. Noticeably darker than Roy's own.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Fullmetal shrugged and started covering himself back up. "I'm not exactly your typical white amestrian kid, and you should know how this country treats outsiders."

He did. God fucking dammit.

"Fullmetal, that's racism. What did those soldiers say to you? We can file a complaint."

"I'm not fucking tattling on them, Mustang, I'm not a kid. It was the usual spiel - calling me a wok and half-breed, telling me to go back to 'my country'. I really don't care about that type of shit, but then Pervstache called my mom a magi whore and I was about to punch him senseless when you swooped in and fucked it up. Here, happy? I told you everything. I was justified."

Roy wasn't happy. Roy was the farthest from happy he'd been since he started hiding his gun before drinking. What the fuck?

"Why-" he steeled himself, even if his heart felt like it was trying to break out of his chest and leave, he had to know. "Why 'magi'? That's a slur for ishvalans."

(please please please don't be- he couldn't take it if- please no)

"I don't know. Because of the skin tone? Mom was amestrian and our shitty bastard of a father wasn't ishvalan either. Not that any of those people actually care. Although his last name did end in 'heim', so who the fuck knows. Maybe he was mixed."

(thank you thank you thank you oh god thank you god fuck-)

"I'm sorry."

Roy wasn't actually suffocating, it was all in his head. Just a passing thought, just a nuisance. He wasn't dying yet, because Riza would kill him and Maes threatened to do a full on speech on his funeral. With photos.

"It's... fine." Edward was looking at him funny, did Roy let something show on his face? "Really, it's nothing - well, besides the mom comment. But I've had worse."

"How much worse?"

"Oh, what's with the-"

"Fullmetal." He said in perfectly measured tone, with a perfectly stable expression, doing his fucking best to project the calm he didn't feel. "What exactly did you mean by saying you've had worse."

Getting Edward to open up was like walking on a rope above a canyon full of razor-sharp rocks and bloodthirsty chimeras. While it was raining acid. Tread just a little too heavily, push just a little too far and too fast, and you'd end up falling to your painful and gruesome death.

Except Roy had no patience for mind games today. Not while he was hungover and on a time crunch and working through a full-blown panic attack.

(don't let it show, don't lose control, they are watching-)

Perhaps the child was also not in the mood for making undue trouble, because he was surprisingly cooperative.

"Ever got your hair sun-bleached after a summer outside without covering your head? I'm already blond, so by September my hair gets very light. And Al wasn't much better. Had a military veteran freak out on us once when we were studying in Dublith. Combined with the tan, poor sod must've thought we were ishvalan. It's kinda funny in retrospect, but at the time we were scared shitless, because it turned out he had a gun."

"What?" It wasn't funny. It wasn't funny at all. "What happened next?" he couldn't breathe

(a shot rang out they screamed)

"Ah, not much, honestly. The MPs arrived on the scene and heard him yelling about 'gutting them desert pigs' and 'killing all 'em heimies' and next thing we knew we were thrown on the ground and now the police were pointing guns at us too."

"What the fuck?!" They did what?!

"Yeah. Dragged us both into a cell and kicked up a stink about us being ishvalan terrorists. Looking back, I think they realized early on that they fucked up, but couldn't admit it since the guy in charge had already reported it to the military."

Holy shit, now Roy remembered that incident.

"You were those kids?! You made it into papers, Fullmetal. Forces were on high alert from Rush Valley to Laurelvale. Amestris Today ridiculed military police for months afterwards." More like decimated. Painfully.

"Well they deserved it. They're useless at best and fuck shit up at worst. Stupid soldier rejects. What do we even have them for anyway? Don't answer that, I don't want your smartass comments."

"Can it be, Fullmetal? You, implying my ass is smart?"

"Pity you only use it to shit, Bastard. Then again, that's all that you use your head for, too."

Finally, they were back in the familiar territory.

Of all people in his team he and Edward had the worst relationship. They were tentatively tolerant of each other at best and downright antagonistic at worst. Roy had tried, really, to find some common ground, but the kid adamantly refused any kind of peace offerings.

Somehow, Havoc got both of the Elrics to trust him from the get-go. Whether it was through a particularly good first impression or through some kind of sorcery Roy hadn't had a faintest, but the best advice Jean could offer was: "Just don't be an asshole, Chief, these kids are awesome."

Then Fuery soon managed to befriend the feral one, and naturally the nice one followed suit. That wasn't surprising, because Kain was closest to them in age and had experience helping out in animal shelters. He knew his way around strays. Sadly, the knowledge was mostly instinctive and his advice basically boiled down to: "Just have a heart, Colonel."

Falman, after the time they found him sitting in the office with bloodied hands and a thousand yard stare, started treating both Fullmetal and his brother with utmost respect that bordered on reverential fear. He declined to comment.

Even Breda, his sole ally in being distrusted by the pair, had somehow established a truce with them as of two months ago. And though his advice of: "Just feed them. Like, a lot. Now." was sound in theory, on practice Edward just refused anything Roy offered.

It seemed like every one of his men had had a weird bonding experience with one or both of them. Except for Riza. But Riza didn't count because everyone respected her, even the Elrics.

Roy was outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered, outplanned and outmaneuvered.

But he wasn't dead yet, so that was something.

"Anyway, they tried to scare us into confessing to at least being illegal immigrants, so they could give something to their higher-ups, but Teacher had caught wind of it by then and came looking for us. That part really was funny, because I know for a fact that at least two officers fainted. And one cried like a bitch. We didn't even get in trouble."

Of course not. Why would they? They didn't do anything wrong. If it happened now (but what if Roy had been that veteran? what if he killed them? what if-) Roy would've gone ballistic. Two children being arrested and treated like enemies of the state because of one visibly unstable man's ravings? He'd have torn them apart, piece by pathetic piece, for touching his kids.

"That's horrible." Roy managed. "If it's any consolation, they got into a lot of trouble for this."

"I don't really care." Edward shrugged. "What's done is done, and we haven't had any trouble with them since."

"And you're not going to. If anyone gives you trouble like that you tell me and I'll deal with it, got it?" he stressed.

Because apparently that was the one issue he somehow overlooked. So many things to shun Elric for - his age, demeanor, freakishly high intelligence, atrocious fashion sense - and people picked his skin color. Why was Roy trying to save this country again?

(children burning people crying oh god why make it stop I can't take anymore)

Right.

"Why?" Edward glared at him, half in suspicion and half... confused? "What's in it for you?"

"Do I need to have an ulterior motive for protecting my subordinates?"

"Don't bullshit me, Colonel God Complex." the boy scowled. "You have an ulterior motive for everything."

"My ulterior motive here is to make sure you're safe and not being bullied by some third-rate Marvin award nominees."

"Oh, so sending me on missions where I get shot at is fine, but schoolyard taunts are where you draw the line?"

"Those aren't schoolyard taunts, Fullmetal, it's a serious issue that many men face on a daily basis!" Roy was starting to lose his temper. "And I never send you on missions where an altercation is expected, but you still manage to attract trouble! I swear I could tie you up and hide you in an empty room and you would still somehow get into a fight!"

And give Roy a heart attack.

"Oh, so now it's my fault that people keep trying to hurt me?! You're saying I deserve it?!"

"No! Were you even listening?! I just said-"

"LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU BASTARD!"

It was at that point that Roy had realized what he was doing. He had just locked himself into a screaming much with a bratty, insecure traumatized thirteen year old. Thankfully, at least, the courtyard was completely empty, free of any potential onlookers.

Still, he was the adult in this situation. He had to keep his cool.

"Fullmetal. Edward. Look at me."

Before he registered how bad of an idea it was, Roy's hands were already on the kid's shoulders, holding him in place.

"Let go." Edward hissed, but didn't follow the demand with a threat or an escape attempt, instead choosing to look down at his boots with his hands crossed.

"Edward." Roy insisted. "Come on, look at me. Please."

He actually considered squatting down so their faces would be on the same level, but thought better of it. Mostly because he had a feeling that Fullmetal would see that as a grave insult and not an attempt to establish trust.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Listen to me, Ed" it was the first time Roy had ever used the nickname and he could see the boy's apprehension lessen a bit, probably against his will.

Now think, he told himself. What could he possibly be afraid of now?

Because that was what Roy saw when he looked at Elric. It was in his too-bright eyes, too tight fists, too straight back. In the slight shaking, in the loud voice.

Fear, masked by anger and bad jokes. But fear of what?

(fear of Roy?)

"I'm not trying to hurt you, alright? I'm not laughing at you, or gathering dirt on you, or playing a prank. I'm not trying to manipulate you somehow or get you to owe me something."

"Fuck you." the kid was breathing heavily, his face pinched.

"Ed, I'm just trying to help-"

"I don't want your damn help!" his voice cracked.

Fuck, was Fullmetal actually going to cry on him?

"You're just-" he sounded so young and vulnerable, and every word felt like a knife lodging itself into Roy's chest. "You're just an asshole!"

"I'm sorry, I'm trying not to be-"

"Well don't!"

What?

"You can't just...!" Ed spluttered and swallowed loudly. "You can't just- not be an asshole! It's not allowed!"

What?

"Fullmetal," now he just felt incredibly dumb. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Shut up!" the child turned away again, hugging himself. "Just go away!"

"No, I don't think I will."

Now he really did squat down in spite of his poor, long-suffering knees. Roy could deal with the pain later, in the moment he had more pressing problems.

Like the kid in his arms who was full-on sobbing now, albeit silently. For him it was probably a much-needed breakdown that had been slowly creeping on for months, if not longer. For Roy, however, it was a nerve-wracking experience, if simply because he had never had a child seeking comfort from him of all people.

What the fuck was he supposed to do? Stay still? Hug him? Try to calm him down? Distract him? Wait it out and pretend it never happened?

He wished Maes was there. Maes always knew how to deal with emotions, meanwhile Roy's usual solution was to push them down for as long as he could manage and then drink himself halfway into a coma when that stopped working. Which was not an option this time.

(What would Hughes do?)

Roy had never asked for this. He had just wanted to attend one meeting and then go home to try and sleep off his hangover. He didn't want to be in this situation, with a crying Elric in front of him and no one competent to give proper instructions.

(But deep inside something steered. Something he couldn't quite ignore.)

He hesitantly took his hands off Edward's shoulders and wrapped them around his small form, pulling him closer. The little alchemist stilled for a few seconds during which Roy stopped breathing entirely. He considered letting him go but in the next moment the boy launched himself into his chest with the force that almost knocked them both over.

And then the floodgates opened.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" Ed chanted, curling into his coat and getting snot all over it.

Roy didn't have a clue about how to respond to that, so he simply hugged him tighter.

"Why can't you be easy?! Why can't anything ever be easy?!"

"I'm sorry, Ed." he murmured, rubbing circles into his back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "I'm so fucking sorry."

They stayed like this for a while. Roy didn't know what he was apologizing for. For not seeing his distress sooner, perhaps. For not being the mentor and father figure the boy clearly needed in his life. For the impossible, unfair amount of suffering both Edward and Alphonse had been through.

Roy had never been jealous of Maes and Gracia. He'd never wanted kids, never wanted the lifelong responsibility, and that was without taking his main goal into account. But it felt inexplicably right to hold this brave, fierce, precious child in his arms and oh. Oh. He got it now.

"You-you always go away. E-everyone always d-does. No m-matter how hard we t-try, you all d-die or leave, or..!"

Roy wanted to cry too. He wanted-

He wanted Ed to feel safe around him. He needed the kid to trust him, to let him in, because he was Roy's now and Roy Mustang was a greedy bastard. He wouldn't, couldn't let him go now, because they were both his. He fucking claimed them. End of story.

"I swear on everything that is holy, Ed, I'm not going to die before you're ready. And I'm definitely not leaving you behind. Trust me, if I ever even think about it, Hawkeye will shoot me."

"I'll never be ready." Came a muffled response. "No more dying."

"No more dying." Roy smiled wryly into the crown of golden hair. "I guess we'll just need to figure out immortality now, huh? You better share that Philosopher's Stone when you find it."

Elric awkwardly squirmed out of the embrace and and started rubbing his eyes furiously, trying to erase the evidence of what he must have perceived as weakness. Roy had to suppress a bizarre impulse to cup those reddened cheeks and wipe the tear tracks with his thumbs.

(what the fuck was wrong with him today?)

"But this never happened and I still hate you, g-got it?!" Edward's voice almost didn't waver, carrying on with his normal bratty attitude, but for the first time since they met Roy had noticed that brittle undertone.

All this time that boy hadn't been a feral and possibly rabid cat after all. Just a particularly loud hedgehog. With venom on his quills, sure, but still soft and squishy on the inside.

"Sure, Fullmetal." Roy smiled. "Nothing happened at all. But we're still filing a complaint against those three soldiers, don't think I forgot about them."

"Urgh. This again? Why are you so hellbent on tattling? Do you like additional paperwork? Oh. Oh, shit, you're a masochist, aren't you? That's why you let Lieutenant Hawkeye boss you around, you old pervert!"

"Excuse me?! I'm not old, Fullmetal, I'm twenty six!" For three more weeks at least. "And I'm not a pervert - where did you even hear that word? Nevermind, I don't want to know. Why are you so against reporting them? Don't you want them to get in trouble?"

"Because they won't, you stupid bastard. It never works, so why bother?"

"Oh, but this time it will." he smirked. "I know their commanding officer personally and let me tell you, Colonel Seuss won't be pleased to hear about their questionable hobbies."

"What, is he a hardass or something?"

"Dear old Abigail is a miserable shrew, but luckily for you she only hates one thing more than she hates men, and that is men who act like douchebags."

"So, you."

Roy didn't even need to say anything. He only had to raise an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm sorry, I can't turn it off!" Fullmetal blurted out, cheeks aflame.

Truly, he was a delight to work with.

"To be completely fair, you weren't wrong, I'll give you this one. You see, I used to think that her habit of spitting venom in my face every time we talked was her unique way of flirting."

That got him a snort.

"Tell me you didn't."

"Yes, well, we cleared up that particular misunderstanding pretty quickly." Roy grimaced, but Ed started giggling, so he continued. "I'm honestly surprised she didn't actually shove those flowers up my ass, but it was an extremely close call. Word of advice, kid: don't piss of women who can transmute air into poison."

The giggling stopped and the boy gave an exaggerated shudder.

"More like, don't piss off women in general."

"Yes." he echoed with a grin of his own. "Women are scary."

Roy felt... lighter than he had in years. For the first time in months his mind has stopped screaming at him every goddamn second. He could almost, if he squinted really hard and tilted his head just so, make out a ghost of a will to live.

Not that it fixed anything. He was still a monster, calamity given human form, and he deserved to rot in the deepest, hottest pit of hell.

But as he walked down the path to the Command building with a laughing Fullmetal in tow, that part of him that Roy thought had long since died, that he did everything in his power to forget ever since the Elrics barged into his miserable life, finally reared up it's terrifying head.

A thought came in. A stupid, dangerous, absurd, tempting thought. If he ever reached out for that small hand. Would he be allowed to hold it?

It looked like the eternal damnation was going to have to wait a decade or two. After all...

"No more dying."

...he still had a pair of hedgehogs to raise.

#fanfiction #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #edward elric #roy mustang #angst #hurt/comfort #ed @ trauma #“and repreeess... this is HeAlThY”

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slashhinginghasher · 2 years

Text

Wear Me Out - Monster, Ch. 2

Well holy god damn folks, here she finally is. Only took me seven months lol.

Chapter title and intro lyrics are from Maniac by Phoebe Green.

Ao3 link (comments make me deliriously happy)

John Tyler x OFC

tw: noncon/extremely dubious consent, rough/painful sex, threats of violence/non-graphic violence, past drug addiction

You maniac, you tortured artist, do you crave attention?

Your shaking hands a consequence of habits you don’t mention

Your mind was made of magic, now it’s ugly and diseased

Hell is in your head and your head’s between your knees

Ieva Zarin was thirteen when the Devil’s Tower came down. She didn’t remember much of the actual raid. When the first DEA truck appeared, Randall shot her up with a larger dose than usual and shoved her out the door, either as a distraction or a tiny guard dog, and she’d never know which one because she found out later that Randall’s head was blown off during the confrontation. She remembered the needle and the slamming door and then it was all light and dark and screaming and loud banging sounds and fire in her blood and her skin gaining a will of its own and her heart trying to force its way out of her chest. Someone grabbed her and she was in a vehicle, she couldn’t move her arms and there was something sticky in her eyes. Then she was in a big bright room and there were hands on her again, somebody was screaming and the fingers of the hands were trying to crawl into her flesh like maggots on a dead body. She tried to get away and there was a massive shock of pain and she couldn’t move anything, and then everything went blessedly, mercifully dark.

Her coma lasted a week. The doctor said they’d had to restart her heart three times and she was lucky to be alive. She didn’t feel very lucky. She felt like she’d been run over several times by several trucks. The poke of the IV needles in her arms made her want to shriek, but her throat was so wrecked she could barely croak.

They shunted her to a rehab facility where she spent a month hiding under her bed and throwing up every meal she ate. Sometimes her brain filled with hot TV static and she woke up on the floor with aching muscles and bruises and scrapes. The staff treated her with a combination of pity - poor fucked up thing will never be right in the head - and irritation - aren’t you better yet? aren’t you trying?

During her first meeting with the Murphys, when a ball of blonde pigtails charged her with a screech, Ieva panicked and pushed the girl to the ground. How was she supposed to know that Ellie, unable to contain her squeal of glee, was just running in for a hug? Tower kids didn’t act like that. Nobody would’ve blamed the Murphys if they changed their minds, they were reassured. They could put Ieva in a different home, one without kids maybe? But Janine had already told all her PTA friends about the poor little girl they were going to foster like an orphaned puppy, and it would be horribly embarrassing for her to return empty-handed.

It soon became apparent that Ieva was never going to get better, not in the way the Murphys had wanted. Track marks, the ones that had gotten infected, turned into scars instead of healthy skin. Seizures gave way to dissociative episodes that left her in rooms she didn’t remember entering and on rooftops she didn’t remember climbing. Bouts of depression and violent emotional outbursts overtook her in turns, and no amount of prayer or sermons or household chores or twelve-step meetings full of sad divorcees and born-again college dropouts could stabilize her. Every day was a flipped coin or a rolled die: which Ieva would they get today? The listless, lifeless shell who refused to eat or bathe or move for days at a time? The manic whirlwind who smashed bottles in the streets and shouted vile curses and incomprehensible nonsense at the sheriff from atop the school building? The delinquent who threw things at her classmates and spent more afternoons in detention than out of it?

That was the way the Murphys saw it, at least. Ieva, for her part, was simply trying to survive in a body that seemed hellbent on sabotaging her. It hurt all the time, weighed her limbs down with hot lead and turned her stomach sour and moved without her permission. The marks on it drew judgmental stares and nasty comments, to the point where Janine forced her to wear long sleeves every time she left the house until she passed out from heatstroke one summer afternoon. Her emotions were a dark and turbulent ocean: sometimes she was a tanker, cutting through waves and riding the swells with ease; other days she was curled into a tiny submersible, trying to ride out the tempest without drowning. Let the body do as it wants and deal with the aftermath when she was able to safely surface again.

Her existence at school was a solitary one. Nobody wanted to spend time with the freak who zoned out mid-sentence and drew weird pictures on herself in sharpie and almost broke Gregory Blaylock’s jaw with a math textbook. Her classmates learned to steer away from overt bullying after the textbook incident, but the only use they had for her was as a scapegoat. When the sheriff’s son was found smoking a joint under the bleachers, when kids were caught sneaking bottles of their parents’ liquor to weekend bonfire parties (to which Ieva was never invited), they invariably named her as the supplier.

It was all lies, of course. She had never been involved in procurement, even back at the Tower. She wouldn’t know the first place to get weed. None of the authorities seemed to care about that, though. Once a junkie, always a junkie.

She would’ve run the second she turned 18, but the small pragmatic part of her told her to at least get her diploma first. She boarded the bus to Chicago still in her cap and gown, and had all the Murphys’ phone numbers and emails blocked before it crossed the Virginia border.

Building a life out of nothing but a small duffel bag was immensely difficult, her only advantages being an almost pathological stubbornness and her past experiences with abject poverty. She got a job bussing tables at a grungy dive bar whose owner let her sleep on the couch in the back room. The clientele introduced her to some of the city’s underground music scenes, and she started giving stick-and-poke tattoos for cash in the corners of DIY basement shows, which led to an apprenticeship and eventually full-time employment at a tattoo shop. She bought a car and rented an apartment.

She got very good at ignoring how lonely she was.

***

Ieva had been sketching aimlessly for several hours when her cell phone buzzed. She shook out her cramped fingers and answered it, assuming it would be her boss or a spam caller. That was her first mistake.

“Hello?”

“Evait’sElliepleasedon’thangup.”

It took her a moment to process the rush of words, and then her stomach dropped. Ieva pulled the phone away from her ear to check the caller ID, but it was an unknown number.

Still, she didn’t hang up. Second mistake.

“...Ellie?”

“Hiiiii, please don’t hang up on me, Eva.”

None of the Murphys ever could say her name right. Or they just didn’t care enough to try.

“Did you get a new phone number?”

“Nooo, Dillon left his phone at our house so I called you on that and it worked!”

“...Is that your boyfriend or something?”

“Come on, you know Dillon! Dillon Marshall? His dad works at the bank! You, um… you set his sister’s hair on fire in science class that one time?”

“Oh yeah. That was funny.” Ieva chuckled drily at the memory of an auburn braid going up like a roman candle. Ellie forced a laugh that made it clear she did not find it funny, but was trying to be congenial anyway. Silence stretched over the line like a rubber band before Ellie, never one for pauses, snapped it.

“I’m getting married in January!”

“Why? You’re like sixteen.”

The pause was a bit more pointed this time.

“I’m nineteen, Eva. My birthday was three months ago.”

“Oh.” Ieva felt a pang of guilt. Not a huge one, but it was still there. “Who are you marrying?”

“Dillon.”

Now she definitely felt like a dick. Eleanor Murphy had a seemingly endless capacity for kindness; she deserved better than the bitchiness Ieva had always given her. The girl’s only fault was that she didn’t have an angry bone in her body, and Ieva, perpetually on the verge of boiling over with rage, had never known how to interact with someone like that.

“Will you come to the wedding?”

Her first, second, and third instincts where to say fuck no and then maybe throw her phone at the wall. This conversation alone was more contact than she’d had with any of the Murphys since she’d left, and the thought of putting herself in a room with the whole extended family had her reaching for Spike on reflex.

(Spike was a stainless steel hair stick she’d commissioned off a metalworker in exchange for covering up the hideous tattoo of his ex’s name. The fact that she’d named it and considered it something like a friend did not say good things about her general mental well-being.)

“Why are you asking me this?” Ieva asked, twisting Spike between the fingers of her free hand.

“We miss you.”

Ieva choked.

“We do!” Ellie protested.

“Really?” Ieva drawled, dripping sarcasm. “Miriam misses me? Does Janine cry over a picture of me by her bed every night?”

“I miss you!” Ellie swallowed hard enough to hear it over the line. “I know you never liked me but I still think of you as my sister, Eva, and I want you to be there with the rest of my family when I get married. Is that such a bad thing to ask?”

The icky feeling in her chest grew. Ieva poked her tongue between her molars and ran her thumb over Spike’s very sharp point as she thought. She was an adult now. She had the means to leave at will. Surely she could play nice for a few days and then tell them all to fuck off forever after the wedding.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Whatever, I’ll be there.” She had to hold the phone away from her ear with a wince to keep Ellie’s squeal from deafening her.

Third mistake.

***

She drove down on December 30th, half hoping her car would break down on the way, and nearly turned right back around when Janine met her at the door with a home drug test.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Five years,” Janine snapped. “Five years with no contact. You’re not stepping foot in this house until I know you’re clean.”

“Mama, stop,” Ellie pleaded, pushing past her to pull Ieva into a hug. Ieva wrapped her arms around her awkwardly. When had Ellie gotten taller than her?

Her old bedroom had been turned into a guest room, nicely decorated but impersonal, and she sighed a little in relief. She didn’t know how she’d feel if they’d kept things the same. Bleary-eyed and stale from the twelve hour drive, she pulled off her boots and fell asleep on top of the covers still in her clothes.

The house was buzzing with activity when she forced herself out of her room the next day. Janine Murphy was insane for throwing a massive party four days before hosting her daughter’s wedding, but the woman would probably wither up and die if she spent more than a week not being the center of everyone’s attention.

Ieva slunk into the kitchen, not hungry in the slightest but knowing that the body needed occasional feeding if you didn’t want it to collapse. In a stroke of rotten luck, both Miriam and Janine were there.

“What on God’s green Earth have you done to yourself now, child?”

“Good morning to you too,” Ieva muttered to Miriam.

“Don’t get snippy with me, girl,” the older woman snipped. “What’s all that mess on your neck?”

Ieva pulled at the neckline of the sweatshirt she’d thrown on, showing more of the ink on her shoulder and clavicle. Miriam blanched like she’d opened up her torso and displayed her guts for them.

“Cover yourself up,” Janine ordered. “No one needs to see you walking around looking like some kind of degenerate.”

For a family so concerned about embodying southern hospitality and gentility, the Murphy matriarchs rarely seemed to have any manners to spare for Ieva. She left the kitchen, empty-handed and empty-stomached, before she could give in to the urge to bounce one of their faces off the table.

“I always knew she’d return to the needle one way or another,” she heard Miriam say. Ieva left the house, not caring how hard she slammed the door behind her. She thought she saw a flash of red at the property line as she stomped through the grass, but it was probably just her imagination.

***

Despite her concerns about Ieva’s degenerate appearance, Janine insisted she attend the New Years’ party instead of hiding in the guest room, which meant she’d told everyone Ieva would be there. Janine was very big on expectations and appearances. The need to meet, maintain, and exceed dictated her every move. Ieva had always been a snag in the perfect tapestry of her life. At the end of the day, Janine Murphy was a narcissist, and Ieva’s refusal to prostrate herself in gratitude at the altar of Saint Janine was a constant irritation, the grit that none of the Murphys could worry into a pearl.

She spent the first hour stealing hors d’oeuvres off serving trays as they left the kitchen before planting herself in front of the fireplace in one of the smaller sitting rooms, hoping to avoid most of the crowd. No such luck; Ellie gravitated towards her like a magnet, dragging an entourage behind her. No one spoke to her after Ellie’s initial chirpy greeting, but she could feel their surreptitious glances and whispers buzzing around her like mosquitoes. More people drifted in and out as the house filled up and standing room became more scarce. Ieva stayed very still and very quiet as a dozen conversations swirled around her. Maybe if she didn’t make eye contact, nobody would speak to her.

“-John Miller. The one I was telling you about? Who lives in the caretaker’s house?”

Fucking Ellie. Why was she so hellbent on making sure Ieva was included?

She did remember Ellie going on about some new neighbor. An author, or an aspiring one, at least. Mostly she talked about how nice he was, and how handsome, and how much Miriam and Janine liked him. She’d gotten real quiet when Ieva asked if her fiance knew about her little crush. Ieva knew she’d hurt Ellie’s feelings, but had been too relieved to have a bit of peace and quiet to care.

John Miller was tall, with dark hair and a hungry smile that immediately put her on edge. She found herself very reluctant to meet his eyes as she mumbled a quiet greeting. She wasn’t scared, not exactly, but she felt deathly certain there was something there that she didn’t want to see.

“I’ve heard so much about you.”

His voice was deep and smooth and she felt it like a hand down her spine. The room was suddenly much too hot, the air sitting stagnant in her lungs. Ieva heard herself say something as though from a distance and stood to make a graceless exit. An electric jolt rocketed through her chest when her shoulder brushed against John’s arm, and it took a lot of work to make it look like she wasn’t fleeing. She pulled on her coat and boots through sheer force of habit (it was cold; bodies needed covering) and escaped to the front porch. The crisp winter air worked its way past the tightness in her throat as she willed her heart to stop racing.

What the fuck was that?

***

There was a problem with Ieva’s dress.

Rather, the problem was Ieva inside the dress.

The dress itself was quite nice, a lucky thrift store find from back when she thought she might want to try dating. On a bustier person, the neckline may have been a bit scandalous for a wedding, but on Ieva it just showed a whole lot of sternum. The problem was that Ieva had spent the last five years diligently covering her arms, legs, neck, and chest in tattoos, and the sight of it was sending Janine spiraling.

“I just don’t understand why you would do that to yourself!” she wailed for the fourth time, pacing back and forth and tearfully pretending to chew on a manicured nail. Ieva just shrugged. She felt no need to explain her life choices to the Murphys anymore. They certainly wouldn’t want to hear about her efforts in reclaiming a body they had played a large part in alienating her from.

“And you’re sure you have nothing you can cover… that… with?” MIriam asked.

“This is all I brought.”

The situation was diffused by Andrea, who had poked her head in curiously at the sound of her mother’s first cry but had, thus far, been a silent observer.

“Mama, why don’t you go look through your scarves and see if you have something she can wear over it? And Grammy, you can check in on Ellie, see how the stylist is doing.”

Thankfully, the two older women listened, exiting the room with much fluttering and praises for their “smart girl”. That left Ieva alone with Andrea. Steady, dependable Andrea, with whom she had exchanged perhaps twenty words during her entire life with the Murphys. Andrea with the vet practice and the steady, dependable husband downstairs and the stylish, but pleasantly neutral maternity dress. Andrea, who was giving the same disapproving look Ieva imagined she used on her kids.

“Where are your shoes?”

Ieva lifted a foot. Andrea sighed.

“You can’t wear boots to a wedding, Eva,” she said. She probably used that tone of voice on her kids, too.

“Why does it matter? It’s Ellie’s wedding. No one should be looking at my feet anyway.”

“It’s a matter of etiquette, just like…” She gestured at Ieva’s bare arms. “You really couldn’t have packed anything else?”

“Only weddingish thing I got, boss.”

Ieva was very ready to be done with the conversation. Andrea looked as though she felt the same way.

“I don’t know why you have to antagonize everyone all the time.”

“I am literally just standing here.”

“I’m not just talking about today, Eva.”

“Neither am I, Andrea.”

She resisted the temptation to mispronounce Andrea’s name, just barely, but she didn’t want to be accused of flooding the growing baby with toxic stress hormones or something.

Andrea sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t think I will ever understand you.”

For some reason, that made Ieva very sad.

“I don’t think you ever tried.”

***

Which was how she wound up swaddled in a champagne-colored silk wrap with a pair of borrowed heels a half size too big. Janine had described the wedding as “intimate”, which, in true Murphy fashion, meant there were around a hundred and fifty guests instead of the entire county. The ceremony was long-winded, at least half sermon, and Ieva entertained herself by imagining Ellie taking a seat after her clip-clop down the aisle and leaving Dillon to marry the horse.

She could only imagine the heart palpitations that resulted during the creation of the seating arrangement. It was a delicate three-way balance between keeping Ieva away from everyone, keeping Ieva under the watch of someone from the immediate family, and allowing the immediate family to be near the newlyweds’ table. They managed it by placing her with Aaron and MIriam, as far off to the side as possible while still being within Ellie’s golden sphere of brideliness.

Ieva wondered if the two had volunteered to be her keepers for the evening when the plans were being made. If so, then Aaron was likely regretting it; Ieva had demolished any potential relationship between them earlier in the week by laughing and asking if he wasn’t eighty years too late when he tried to talk about his recent deployment to Germany, which she thought was a perfectly fair question. It was a source of small amusement for her, seeing the big brave soldier boy with his crisp military haircut and his “yes sir, no sir”s and his little uniforms, pouting like a child whenever she was in the room.

Miriam had nailed her with a warning glare when they opened up the bar at dinner, daring her to prove everyone’s opinions of her right by getting sloppy drunk and making a scene. The joke was on her; Ieva didn’t drink at all. She had gotten drunk exactly once in her life and immediately had a panic attack so bad she almost shoved a piece of glass through her cheek to make sure her head was still attached. Suffice to say it was not an experience she wished to repeat.

She stayed in her seat the entire night, sipping water and watching as everyone else talked and laughed and danced to saccharine country love songs. No one spoke or really even looked at her, having had their fill of gossip and sneaky glances at the New Years’ party. She may as well have been part of the furniture. It was best that way, she told herself. What could she have possibly had to say to anyone? “Hi Dillon’s sister, looks like your hair grew back nicely.” “Sheriff, remember that time I threatened to eat your kidneys for arresting me outside the church? Good times.” “I haven’t committed a single act of assault or property damage since my arrival here, you’re welcome everybody.”

I know you all hate me. The feeling is mutual.

***

It was nearly midnight when the reception finally ended, the caterers stifling yawns behind discreet fists. Ieva had mentally checked out hours ago. She’d only stayed because she didn’t have a key to the house and didn’t fancy wandering around out in the cold.

Back at the house, she pulled the heels off with a sigh of relief. Just the walk to and from the barn had chafed red blisters into her ankles and the tops of her feet. Good thing she hadn’t danced; she probably would’ve bled into the borrowed satin, and wouldn’t that have been a fun argument to have. She went to the kitchen with the intent of making a mug of tea to soothe her hollow stomach, folding the wrap into a neat square as she went. Miriam followed her.

“Make sure you wear something more modest when the reporter comes tomorrow,” she said. “We wouldn’t want to give her the wrong impression.”

“What reporter?” Ieva asked. The only remotely news-worthy thing she could think of was Ellie’s wedding, and it wasn’t really that news-worthy.

“Ellie didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Oh, it must have slipped her mind. She’s been so busy, you know, with the wedding and the honeymoon and all.” There was something almost smug about Miriam’s evasiveness. A trickle of dread began to gather in Ieva’s chest.

“What reporter, Miriam?”

“From the Times,” she said airily. “She’s writing a retrospective piece on all those poor souls from that awful Tower. The ten year anniversary is coming up soon, you know.”

The teabag slipped from Ieva’s numb fingers.

“A reporter. To talk… to me?”

“To all of us, but to you, yes.” Miriam eyed her suspiciously. “Well, for heaven’s sake, don’t look so surprised, dear. You didn’t think we all wanted you here for the wedding, did you?”

Ieva was going to be sick. She was going to throw up all over the spotless tile floor. The kitchen filled with a high-pitched shriek that she thought might be coming from her until MIriam hollered at her to take the kettle off the stove. She ignored the old woman, making a beeline for the guest room instead.

The Tower. The fucking Tower. “The anniversary, you know” Miriam had said, like there was ever a single moment of Ieva’s life that wasn’t cast under its filthy shadow. LIke the memory of it didn’t haunt ever part of her. Anniversary; what an inappropriate joke of a word. Anniversaries were for cake and parties and romantic dinners, not reminders of dead bodies and poison in her veins.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

She’d known there was going to be a catch, had been waiting all week for the other shoe to drop. But she’d expected a guilt trip. An unnecessary intervention. Maybe a little monetary extortion. Not this. The Murphys had never wanted to hear a single thing about the Tower. They called her trauma “excuses” and looked at her with disgust whenever she brought the subject up. But dangle the chance to have their names in a fancy newspaper in their faces and suddenly they expected her to dig up all the horrors she’d had to bury by herself so they could play the hero for some bitch with a journalism degree.

Ieva shoved all her clothes into her duffel, not caring if she left a few things behind. The only important thing right now was getting out, out, out. An inferno was building inside her and she needed to get away before it exploded and burned the whole house down around her. She grabbed her keys from the bedside table and came up with a handful of air.

Her keys. Were missing.

She tore down the stairs like the wrath of god, only momentum keeping her from tripping on the long hem of her dress. Miriam had been joined in the kitchen by Janine, who was drinking Ieva’s tea.

“Where are they?”

Janine simply raised her eyebrows.

“Where. Are. My. Fucking. Keys. Janine?” Ieva bit out.

The two women stared at her like she was a toddler throwing a tantrum. Miriam shook her head and glanced meaningfully at her daughter.

“You see? I told you she’d overreact.”

“Over–” A rush of heat swept over Ieva’s face, her vision going hazy black around the edges. Janine and Miriam shrank back with real fear in their eyes. She paused for a moment, confused, and realized Spike was raised in her hand like a butcher’s knife. She didn’t remember doing that.

“You don’t get to keep me here,” she babbled, backing towards the front door. “You don’t get to keep me here, you don’t get to keep me here you don’t–”

“Eva, just chill out for a sec–”

Ieva whirled and slammed Spike into the wall next to Aaron’s head with a wordless scream of rage. She’d driven it clean through a man’s hand before, and she’d do it again if she had to. Aaron startled and froze like a deer in the headlights (some fucking soldier) as Ieva pulled the metal free from the wood paneling and fled outdoors. The anger was growing too big for her body; she wouldn’t be able to stay in her head much longer. The only thing she could do was point herself away from everyone and hope she could maintain the trajectory.

A low-hanging branch snagged her hair, and she lashed out with both fists, skin and bark splitting against each other until the pain radiating up her arms was almost bad enough for her to feel it. Pulling back took a monumental, but necessary, effort. She tended to repeat actions when she was gone from herself, and if she kept beating on the tree, her hands would be pulpy stumps by the time she came back around. Walking was okay. Walking was safe. Ieva pointed her feet away from the house, and let herself go under.

***

When she woke up, John Miller was fucking her brains out on his living room floor.

***

Ieva wasn’t a virgin, but her handful of hookups had been universally disappointing. She’d concluded that either sex wasn’t something meant to be done sober or, more likely, years of neurochemical damage had left her unable to orgasm.

John Miller proved her very, very wrong. In fact, the man who pulled pleasure from her body like a virtuoso was so different from the charming gentleman the Murphys had described that Ieva started compiling a mental list of interesting tidbits.

John Miller was not an author. Ieva had spent enough time around artistic types to know that men absolutely never shut up when they were writing a book. They would interject references to their manuscript, or the fact that they even had a manuscript, into every conversational gap. He didn’t even have a laptop or pages of notes lying around.

(He did have a borderline neurotic number of sticky notes on the bedroom walls, but she never got a chance to read them.)

John Miller was handsy. From the moment he brought her across the threshold, he was almost always touching her somewhere. He was particularly obsessed with her hair, carefully combing out the tangles so he could put more in when he slid his cock into her mouth only minutes later. He traced her tattoos and the length of her spine, left handprints on her hips, wrapped his arms tightly around her when he slept. It was almost like he thought she’d dissolve into nothing if he didn’t have at least one hand on her at all times.

John Miller was not as pleasantly mild-mannered as everyone seemed to think. Setting aside the obvious fact that the man fucked like a feral animal (Janine Murphy would probably pass out in shock if she heard some of the things he whispered in Ieva’s ear), his charm and smiles quickly fell away in the absence of an audience. That wasn’t to say he was devoid of charisma; you couldn’t put on an act as convincing as his without a little natural magnetism. But she could see the black intensity that took over his face when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was somewhat vindicating to know that her initial reaction to him wasn’t completely unfounded.

John Miller was, by his own admission, a wanted felon.

John Miller’s name wasn’t even John Miller.

All of which added up to one inevitable conclusion: John Miller-Tyler was not intending to let Ieva leave this house.

***

In the end, all she had to do was wait for him to fall asleep.

Maybe John had underestimated Ieva’s capacity for sneaking, or overestimated her willingness to be the world’s lowest-effort kidnapping, but either way she was soon fishing Spike out from under the couch while John snored softly in front of the dying fire. She hesitated by the door - potential hostage situation aside, it had been nice to just feel like a person instead of a walking disease for once.

“Hostage situation aside?” Get your fucking head together, you stupid bitch.

Ieva slipped outside, shivering in the pink and blue dawn. She meant to run, just in case John woke up and tried to chase her down, but the intense soreness between her legs forced her down to a brisk walk.

When she reached the Murphy house, she found herself unconsciously trying to fix her hair as she climbed the porch steps. She almost laughed aloud when she caught herself; no amount of finger combing was going to hide the fact that she definitely looked and probably smelled like she’d been fucking for three days straight. She was wearing her dress from the wedding with one of John’s flannels over it. No underwear; she couldn’t find them and hadn’t wasted much time looking anyway. Her feet were bare, and she could feel at least two hickeys high enough on her neck that her ink couldn’t hide them. She hoped the Murphys were horrified. She hoped they found out it was the handiwork of their precious John and were so scandalized they couldn’t look him in the face ever again.

Miriam was sitting alone in the kitchen with her coffee and her morning crossword. Ieva slid silently up behind her, wrapping an arm around her neck and bringing Spike’s point to rest just under her right eye.

“What’s going to happen,” she said softly, “is you’re going to call your daughter in here. You’re going to tell her to get my bag and my keys. She is going to bring them, and then I am going to walk out that door. If you try anything, you will lose this eye. Understand?”

Miriam whimpered something that sounded like assent.

“Call her.”

Miriam complied, voice trembling as she called Janine into the kitchen. Janine froze in abject horror at the tableau before her.

“Mike!” she screamed at the same time as Miriam cried “No!” but Ieva had been expecting Janine to call for backup, and she only dug Spike in a little bit, just enough to draw a single drop of blood. The whole Murphy family was soon gathered, barraging her with pleas and half-hearted warnings. Ieva felt a cold, alien calm spread under her skin as she stared them down.

“I’ve done a lot worse than hurt an old woman,” she said quietly, evenly. “Which you’d know, if you’d ever listened to me. But you don’t, which I think is why we’re here, ultimately. You didn’t want another child, you wanted a prop to make you look good. And when I didn’t deliver, you took it out on me. I shouldn’t have had to carry all that alone. I could have gotten better. I could’ve been better, if you had any heart behind all your fucking posturing.”

She looked from Mike to Aaron to Janine, watching the fear and the shame welling up in their eyes.

“So here we are. I’m the monster you always imagined yet somehow did not expect. I wish I could just talk to you like normal fucking people, but none of you fucking listen!” Miriam’s fragile shoulders hitched in a sob. Ieva took a deep breath to compose herself. “Now one of you is going to get my stuff and put it right here on the table, or Miriam goes half blind.”

Aaron returned to the kitchen in record time with Ieva’s duffel bag in one hand and her car keys in the other. He set them down in front of Miriam and hastily retreated.

“I don’t know what you said to the reporter. I’m sure it was a pack of fucking lies to make yourselves look real nice. As payment for that, none of you are going to stop me or call the cops after I walk out the door.”

Keeping her gaze on the two men, Ieva slowly moved Spike away from Miriam’s face. She snatched up her belongings and rapidly backed away as Janine rushed to her mother with a cry.

“Do not follow me,” Ieva warned as she reached the front door. “Do not look for me. Do not call me, text me, email me, nothing. If I ever see any of you again, I will rip your heart from your chest and eat it.”

With those damning parting words, she sprinted around the side of the house to her car and ripped the door open. Her hands were shaking as she shoved the key into the ignition and threw the car in gear, stomping on the gas with her dirty bare foot. She peeled out of the drive with screeching wheels, refusing to look in the rearview mirror as if doing so would summon the sheriff on her tail.

She only had to pull over to throw up once on the drive home. She considered that a win.

***

February was a miserable month, wet and grey with freezing winds that cut through every layer of clothing. Ieva was one of the only people on the street as she walked to work (the tattoo shop was only a mile and half from her apartment, and her landlord had once again neglected to shovel the parking lot). She didn’t mind the burning cold. It felt like she was being scoured clean down to her bones. It was nice.

Her coworkers were gathered around someone’s phone when she walked it, which wasn’t unusual, but the way they all turned to stare at her was. Ieva’s stomach clenched. She knew that look. It was the pity look, the one they gave her in rehab and recovery meetings and church. Poor fucked up thing will never be right in the head.

“What?”

The silence stretched, becoming more uncomfortable by the second.

“Jesus, Iz,” Avery said from his chair. “I don’t even know what to say, I mean…”

“About what?”

Ieva’s face felt numb, and it wasn’t because of the weather. Ray held out his phone, the one they’d all been looking at, and she slowly walked over. The New York Times logo was at the top of the screen. Blocks of text surrounding an embedded video that had already been played to its end. It took two tries for her to tap the replay button.

The video was taken on a cell phone in a hospital waiting room. It was hectic, patients being rushed to and fro while nurses called emergency codes. Two police officers were struggling with either a child or a very short woman, handcuffed and filthy and screaming like she was being actively tortured. The girl writhed and snapped her teeth and kicked at the officers’ legs, earning a swift elbow to the ribs. The sounds coming out of her mouth were nearly inhuman now. A lucky contortion, and she was able to twist out of the restraining hands. She tried to run, but one of the cops pulled a taser and shot her square in the back. She went down hard, convulsing a few times before going still. Someone off-camera said “holy shit” and the video ended.

Something shifted in Ieva’s brain, and she realized she was looking at herself, thirteen years old and methed up to the fucking stratosphere. And everyone else was looking at her too, matted and snarling and spitting and shrieking.

She looked like a fucking animal.

How was anyone supposed to think of her as a human, now that they had seen her like this? Now that they’d watched the cops putting her down like a rabid dog, wiping their hands on their uniform pants so they wouldn’t have to feel the filth of her?

A phantom pain was burning between her shoulder blades. Ray put a hand on her shoulder and she jumped.

“You don’t have to be here, kid,” he said as gently as he could with his gravelly voice. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Go home. We’ll hold up without you.”

He was right. There was no way she’d be able to draw a single line with how badly her hands were trembling. She should say thank you, right? Thank you for pretending she had any dignity left. But none of her body parts felt like her own anymore, and she couldn’t make her mouth work, so she just left.

She imagined him wiping his hand off once the door shut behind her.

If rage was a wildfire, despair was an avalanche: heavy, cold, suffocating, inescapable. There was a ticking bomb inside her, and she needed to make it back to the safety of her apartment before it went off and she shattered into ten thousand pieces. She’d had her share of breakdowns in the past, but this one felt different. Inexorable in a way she might never recover from.

It didn’t matter anymore. Ten years of trying to rebuild herself into a semblance of a person didn’t matter anymore now that anyone with an internet connection could see what she really was, that under the facade she was nothing but a scared, feral animal. A child whom the world looked at and decided was unworthy of the most basic compassion. Human filth. A walking disease. Don’t touch her or she might stain.

By the time she reached her building, she was shaking so badly she could barely punch in the door code. She didn’t stop to make sure it shut behind her. The number on her door swam mockingly in her vision as she fished out her keys. She located the right one at last, stabbed it at the lock, but it fell from her numb, stupid fingers with a sad jangle. She dropped her head against the door and oh god she was going to lose it right here in the overheated hallway.

“You’re a very difficult girl to find, you know.”

Of course. Of fucking course, because the last thing this perfect moment needed was John fucking Tyler springing up from thin air to witness her final suffering. Maybe it was a hallucination, her poor broken brain just throwing up anything and everything it could find at the moment. She answered anyway, just in case, though it took a moment to rearrange her teeth and tongue into something conducive to speech.

“You spelled my name wrong, didn’t you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” She could feel the hot breath of his sheepish chuckle tickling her ear. A red sleeve reached out and plucked her keys from the ground, sliding them easily into the lock and pushing open her door.

Ieva made it four steps inside before her legs gave out, leaning heavily against the wall so she slid downwards instead of falling on her face. John followed her in and closed the door behind them. The sound of the deadbolt sliding home echoed loudly in the silence. At least, she imagined it did for John. Ieva couldn’t hear anything over the ragged noise of her lungs trying to remember how to work.

“I missed you,” he said.

The sound she made in return was ghastly, somewhere on the wrong side of a laugh and a screech, and she had to press the meat of her palm between her teeth to stifle it. John did not like that at all. She felt the heat of him before her and opened her eyes - when had she closed them? - to see him crouched only inches away, lips pressed into a hard line that couldn’t quite hide the curve of his cupid’s bow.

He had such a pretty mouth for a man.

“I missed you,” he repeated in a tone that brooked no argument.

It made no sense. There were no more reporters to talk to. He had to have seen the article by now, the video. He had to know what she was. Couldn’t he smell the rot on her? What more was there to take?

Ieva was close to vibrating out of her skin. Her organs were trading places with each other. John took a sheaf of her hair and pressed it to his nose, breathing deep as though inhaling the finest perfume and not the layered years of blood and dirt and decay. He reached through the cage of her arms to brush a knuckle over her cheek. Then, lightning quick, he grabbed her throat and slammed her back against the wall.

“Don’t you ever walk away from me again,” he hissed in her ear. His eyes were almost black with fury as they bored into her, jaw clenched so tightly his teeth must be ready to crack. He pried her hands away from her mouth and shook her once, harshly, like a dog with a rabbit in its jaws.

“Say ‘Yes, John, I understand’.”

Ieva’s vision was blurring even worse, from tears or lack of oxygen, she didn’t know. Her heart was folding in on itself.

“Lūdzu,” she gasped. “Es…”

Old words, dead words. The mother tongue she had left behind over a decade ago, but they were all she had left. She didn’t even know what she was begging him for: to let her go, or to press harder until her misery ended in the sickening collapse of a windpipe.

John made his own decision. The room flipped when he slung her over his shoulder, and her back hit the bed a moment later. She tried to force air into uncooperative lungs as John literally tore the clothes from her body like they’d personally offended him. Fighting back never even crossed her mind when he flipped her onto her stomach, positioning her hips with rough hands, and drove into her with a single brutal thrust.

It hurt even worse than it had that first night on his living room floor, the burning stretch and the deep, hard ache, a tiny spark of pleasure buried so deep it was barely even an afterthought. But the pain was good. The pain allowed her to map out the exact boundaries of her body, to clearly delineate where she was from where she wasn’t. John was hot and solid and real and even in his anger - maybe especially in his anger, with his hands wrapping around her hair and her throat, clawing bruises into her skin - he was a pillar to which she could anchor her chaotically spiraling world.

John came with a satisfied grunt long before her own climax was even a possibility. He lowered himself until his chest was pressed against her back, then rolled them both onto their sides with his cock still buried deep inside her. Ieva was still fighting for air, every other breath coming out as a hiccup. John kissed the tender spot just behind her ear.

“Shhh,” he murmured. “Don’t cry, don’t cry…”

Which, of course, made her start crying in earnest.

Unfazed by her tears, he trailed a hand lightly down her body until he reached her center. He teased her with the barest of touches, so feather-light they almost tickled. Only when she dug her nails into the arm around her midriff did he begin to work her clit in earnest. Pain quickly bled into pleasure, and it was not long at all before she tipped over into her first orgasm. She tried to squirm away when the buzz faded from her extremities, but John was relentless, circling the little nub through the pain of overstimulation until she was curling her toes in the throes of a second orgasm.

He dipped lower then, tracing the sensitive skin where she was stretched around him. Ieva shuddered and he bucked his hips shallowly, just once, like he couldn’t help himself. The pad of his middle finger followed a short path between her clitoris and her entrance, up and down, maddeningly repetitive. And then he slowly, excruciatingly worked the finger inside her, alongside his now fully erect cock.

Ieva doubled over with a shriek as he unerringly pressed against her g-spot, the third orgasm hitting her like lightning with its intensity. She clamped her legs together, a move which served only to tighten her around him further. John moaned out a startled “fuck!” and blessedly, mercifully, pulled out.

But the reprieve was short-lived, only long enough for him to flip her onto her back and pry her legs back apart. Ieva yowled when he surged forward, each thrust sending her into a fourth climax, a fifth, a sixth, or maybe it was still the third, compounding over and over until she was nothing but a series of nerve endings radiating out from her abused pussy. John had both hands in her hair and was kissing her like his life depended on it, mumbling desperate, incoherent nonsense against her mouth. With one last bruising kiss, he slammed as deep as possible, grinding his hips into hers as he came.

And then it was over, John rubbing soothing circles on her back as she fought to control her shaking limbs.

“Miss me?” he murmured once he’d caught his breath.

Ieva nodded tearfully against his shoulder, realizing the truth of the answer as she did. Her bed had never felt as cold and empty as it had the past month, her skin yearning for a caress that never came. The silence of her apartment was unbearable, funereal.

“Say it.”

“Man tevis pietrūka.” To drive home the point, she kissed his chest, just above the heart, and John honest-to-god blushed.

“You’re not going to leave me again,” he whispered - promise, threat, and beseechment all in one. Ieva nestled deeper in his embrace and let her eyes slip closed.

She was okay with being caged, she thought, if it meant John Tyler would hold the pieces of her like she was something precious for a little longer.

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

As a thank you for putting up with my nonexistent update schedule, here is the girl herself, courtesy of artbreeder:

#john tyler #tell me your secrets #my writing

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