#reader discretion is advised

[corazondebeskar-reads]

how to break a girl in ten easy steps - part three

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

words: 762

summary: joel catches you.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, non-con, captivity, brute force, kicking, predator/prey, capture, use of a snare, broken bones, use of the honorific "master", sadist!Joel, punishment, makeshift gag, non-linear storytelling

dividers by @saradika-graphics

NOTE: please read and heed the series and chapter warnings. this is very dark. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. please read responsibly.

Step Four Once you’ve shown her that there’s no escape, you have to make sure it sticks. For a more effective lesson, we recommend a punishment that fits the crime. The severity of the punishment should be more than a typical infraction. 

He had let you stumble blindly through the woods for a day and a half. No food, no water, just you in your bare feet and terror. 

When he got tired of waiting and watching, he started to tease you. Let you hear him cough from across a clearing. Let you hear him take out a doe not far from your hiding place. Waited until you risked stopping to take a piss to step out from behind a tree and drawl, “Hey there, sweetheart.���

Let you run to the soundtrack of his raucous laughter. 

Let you run right into a snare, strolling lazily up to where the fishing wire had you caught by the ankle. It was twisted, for sure, and there were tears in your eyes. 

He scoffed. “Oh, baby, crying over that?” He rolls his eyes. “That’s gonna feel like a paper cut in about, oh… two seconds.”

And he swings the bat. 

He nestles ear plugs in snugly before cutting the wire and hauling your screaming, writhing body over his shoulder. 

When he tires of your blabbering, he shoves a dirty rag in your mouth and ties a bandana around your head, cinching it tight. You still bawl and whimper, but it’s quieter now, so he can keep an ear out for danger.

As if he isn’t the most dangerous thing in this forest. 

It’s almost embarrassing, how little time it takes to get back to the cabin. How little distance you’d managed to cover.

Or it would be, if you could think about things like being embarrassed. Your shattered ankle takes up most of your headspace, though, That, and the nauseating terror as he speaks casually of your impending lesson.

“Told ya,” he says with a shit-eating grin, “you shoulda prayed I didn’t find ya. Don’t worry your dumb little head ‘bout it, though. You’ll learn. You’ll never want to try and run from me again.”

His tone says he’s going to take you home and wrap you in fluffy blankets, serve you hot cocoa with marshmallows, and win your heart.

His eyes say you’re going to wish for death instead of freedom.

He was tired of your screaming and struggling by the time he’d carted you back. “Toughen up, baby, ‘cause I’m just getting started. I gave you a chance to be good and learn. Now we’re gonna do things my way.” 

He plopped you on your feet just inside the house, laughing as you tried to cling to the only thing nearby—him—to avoid putting weight on your rapidly swelling ankle. Your little fingers didn’t stand a chance as he peeled them from his shoulder, giving you a little shove in the process so you fell flat on your ass. 

“Stand up,” he barks. “Now.”

You shake your head, sobbing in renewed agony. 

“No?” he says incredulously. “Ya think you can tell me no? Stand the fuck up.”

He doesn’t wait, grabbing you by the arm and yanking you to your feet. He rolls his eyes when you fall again.

“Fuckin’ pathetic. You gonna do what I say, or do you need a lesson?” 

“I can’t,” you gasp, yanking the bandana down and the rag from your mouth. “It—”

“Did I say you could talk? Shut up, or I’ll give you something to really cry about,” he says out of habit, and then thinks. “Well. Something extra to cry about, anyway.”

He tries to pull you to stand again, a smirk on his face as you predictably hit the ground once more. “Tell you what. You beg me right, and I’ll let you stay off that ankle.”

“Please,” you choke out, and he gives your ankle the lightest tap with the tip of his boot, sending you howling in pain.

“Please what, you ungrateful brat?”

“P-please, sir…”

“Better, but you know what? I think I wanna hear you call me somethin’ else. Try that again, baby, but this time, say, ‘please let me crawl, master.’” There’s a strange look on his face, but you haven’t the state of mind to contemplate it. 

His words make your stomach churn. 

He takes your hesitation as disobedience and yanks you to your feet again.

“Please! P-please, let me c-crawl…” you stammer with a quivering lip. 

He raises an eyebrow.

“Please let me crawl, master,” you whisper. 

He drops you to the ground. “Mmm, yeah. I like the sound of that. Sure, baby, you can crawl for me. What a good little pet you’re being. I almost wanna reward you for that… but you’ve got some more lessons to learn first.”

next chapter

[no-hwei]

Kayn/Rhaast, graphic depictions of death and violence, gore, suggestions of guro, Rhaast typical nonsense Remember us— if at all— not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men.

— ts eliot, the hollow men

The weaklings are afraid of them. It makes Rhaast's soul sing, the skid of panicked feet against the ground as they run or the stuttering hesitation as they pass them in the corridors. Kayn watches them with contempt, but Rhaast, Rhaast loves it,

The only thing better than the miasma of fear that dogs their steps is the blood they bathe in when unleashed.

Kayn makes a disgusted little noise.

"Messy." he mutters under his breath, the little hypocrite.

You love it. Rhaast tells him, because Kayn does. Rhaast lives in his head, his heart and guts and very fucking soul, he can tell when the brat is filling himself up with the sensation of blood drying sticky and thick on his bare skin.

Kayn doesn't answer him, just flicks his head so his hair thumps against his back, accompaniment to the discordant thrum of emotions he's not even trying to hide from Rhaast.

The denial, the smug pride, the professional detachment, the part of him that aches to scream, the part of him that aches to kill.

Rhaast presses a sense memory into his head.

The last twitches of a dying body, claws deep in the intestines. Those things don't die easy, the muscles writhe and contract around their hands. The thing below them, their kill, breathes their last, and Rhaast smiles down, stroking a thumb gently through the cavity they ripped open from sternum to groin.

Don't you love it, baby? he asks. He thinks of stroking Kayn that way, deep inside.

Kayn shudders.

He doesn't need to tell Rhaast with words. He can feel it under Kayn's skin, the way he wants to be touched.

[snow-hart-a]

Belief; A collection of Michael Headcanons

It is likely that this post will be very long, and might cover some dark topics, so after a certain point I will put it under a read more.

[ DEVOTION ] - What idea or person or god are they truly devoted to in life, if anything?

When they were created, their whole world was just himself and God...so for a long time he put his whole faith and heart into his Father. That faith and devotion cracked though when God brought up the creation of human kind. He had originally opposed their creation and likely would have voiced it himself had one of their own not been vaporized for doing exactly that. It was then that he learned to fear their father. That devotion fractured when Lucifer fell, and he'd had to chose between exiling his brother and killing him outright. He chose the prior, for in truth there was no choice at all, and he would rather Lucifer hate him and still be alive. His faith in his Father shattered altogether when his daughter was killed and damned to hell for nothing other than having been born a Nephilim. Nowadays he puts his faith in his brothers, the few gods he's befriended from Olympus, and his own sword arm. His father has lost that right.

[ SIN ] - What's the worst and most awful thing another person can embody, according to them?

The worst thing that someone can do in his mind is be an oathbreaker. If you make a promise to him, he typically expects that you will do your best to keep it. But oathbreaking isn't just a simple 'I can't do this' sort of promise break, rather it's a stab in the back that he fears. If he trusts you and puts his faith in you enough to believe a oath you've taken, breaking that oath is a surefire way to end up on Michael's radar in a way you don't want.

[ VIRTUE ] - What's the most good and righteous thing another person can embody, according to them?

In a word, Justice. Though it's more complicated than one might think. When most think of him, they assume that the Justice he follows and carries out is that of the law or that of his Father. Not so. True justice is for the people, so too is he. He respects those that fight for the rights of the downtrodden in an effort to better the lives of the whole.

[ CREED ] - Do they have a creed or code of honour they follow?

Oh for sure, though it's not the laws of heaven [anymore] and adheres more closely to the way of the ancient Greeks.

Keep your word

Fight for those who can't fight for themselves

A debt owed is a debt repaid

do not fall victim to hubris

Things like that. The concept of not needing to be a perfect soldier, but a good man instead.

[ RITE ] - Do they have any rituals or holidays that are important to them?

Not really...he celebrates his daughter's birthday, though.

[ SACRIFICE ] - What have they sacrificed for their beliefs?

Well...in both my main and Hazbin verses, he's done at least three acts of High Treason thus far in service of his beliefs for a better future.

Falling in love with a human

Having a nephilim

Fraternizing with another pantheon

And as for what he is willing to lose and willing to do for these things? There is nothing he would not sacrifice short of his loved ones. He would not hesitate to sacrifice his life if it meant he could help the others.

[ MIRACLE ] - What have they been awarded for their beliefs?

Awarded? Hah. If he has been, he doesn't feel like it. He was created to lead the angels but was never told how, he was just expected to know. He's lost nearly everyone he's ever loved, either because they fell or because they died, to the point where he is afraid to get closer. His reward for doing the right thing? Sleepless nights and the crippling sense that if he only did/does better, maybe he can keep things from happening again. If he had only tried harder, been better, if he was enough things would be better. This is his reward for being a 'good' son.

[ LAW ] - If they got to decide, how would society be different?

People wouldn't be punished simply for being themselves, and perhaps the siblings that fell wouldn't have. Was it really so terrible to share knowledge with the humans [Lucifer's case] or to try and find a way to give angels souls[Azazel] ? Sure there were some siblings who had done cruel and horrid things that were worthy of punishment but...not them. Not in his mind. In his mind surely there had been a way to appease everyone, right?

[ COMMUNITY ] - Do they have other people with whom they share their beliefs, like a political party, a church or a mutual aid group?

There is a select few angels that he trusts with his life and his ambition. Among them are Gabriel and Raphael. He wants to trust the others but is reluctant on the off chance this goes badly...plus if it does, the less people involved the safer those people will be. He does intend on trying to reconnect with Lucifer...after all they stand a better chance, united. [note that all of this is verse dependent and can be adjusted to fit the timeline]

[ CONVERT ] - Have they had a change of heart in regards to their beliefs? Did they once think and feel differently?

I believe one line from one of the songs in Hazbin Hotel sums up his viewpoint.

"If hell is forever then heaven must be a lie"

He detests the black and white thinking that many of his kin have, the concept of it being all or nothing horrifies him, especially given all the ones who were sent to hell without being deserving of it. And if he has his way, he will find a way to right this wrong. No matter the cost.

[shironezuninja]

I skipped out on lunch and encountered these digital uploads of Web of Spider-Man issues on Marvel Unlimited. How ELSE was I supposed to react when I’m hungry before dinner, and have to deal with an irritable Old Man, who’s also the lecturing Food Police, whenever I order food on my own without asking?

[ratzzey]

🔥IN THIS BLOG WE HATE EVERYBODY & EVERYTHING 🔥

... But respectfully! 🐀

🔥 • ° • ° • ° • 🔥

Hey, Ya probably don't know me — want to know some more?

🔥 • ° • ° • ° • 🔥

Hi, I'm Rattzy. Alternatively Ratzz/-ttz, Rattzey/-zzey, Rattiz or Driftin' Motorist (as that's my main blog).

Paradoxically I'm generally nice and often like to be the devil's advocate, so am kinda... more tolerant? Ofc not for everyone exactly — there's still a large number of ethically (or mentally in a metaphorical way) depraved people which I just CAN'T understand.

Philosophy sometimes just robs me from other thoughts, but it's in some way entertaining for me; also sorry if you see some mistakes in my spelling(writing?), english language isn't my best skill.

🔥 • ° • ° • ° • 🔥

My main goal for this blog: to keep it not only as the network of me and outer world but also as my demanding way to socialize. And to talk somewhere else than my brain.

Oh and a little simple DNI: if you came here to throwin' up with discriminatory bullshit towards anyone then get the [d]uck out of here. This is a safe bunker and you are not invited in.

WARNING: This user is not responsible for any damages caused to anybody's physical or psychical being. Reader discretion is advised. But of course specific contents will be under separator button.

(lower section is gonna be moved to somewhere else)

... Oh, ya want even more? Curiosity consumes you whole? Ok then:

🔥-> Five Nights at Freddy's fan (litterally have just made the whole main account about it 🗿; don't mind me);

🔥-> interested in internet privacy (tf am I doing here), darknet, Linux, bushcraft, programming, psychology and ham radio;

🔥-> likes rats 🐀;

🔥-> likes various aesthetics (warning - it's gonna be a huge-ass list):

apocalyptic theme's spectrum (such as soft-apo or just post-apo & Stalker),

diesel-/steampunk,

forestpunk,

internetcore 'n' hacker, generally old web and Frutiger Aero,

liminal, dream-/weird-/nostalgiacore,

plaguecore,

techwear, tacticool and cargopunk [Aesthetics Wiki archived ver.] (yea I know it started as a joke and practically doesn't exists but man hear me out- 🥲),

🔥-> music: dream-/weirdcore themed, phonk (except brasilian), some kind of trap (hehe hry223, ok i'll shut up) music and some folk songs;

🔥-> reads poems sometimes;

🔥-> wants to be a radio amateur;

🔥-> writes things in HTML /w CSS (gonna learn XHTML);

Ah- I had a dilemma 'bout adding this but if someone would want to see something even more personal: pronouns.page.

Last updated: 03/09/25

[soundwavesconjunx]

🎭 His Dear Witch ~ 🎭

It's unknown why do you even exist. The SCP Foundation doesn't know what to do with you. You're a confusing paradox that they do not understand and most frustratingly—uncontainable in a conventional sense.

#TAGS: Nothing Time Twins related, SCP Fandom is slowly drawing me back, It includes SCP! Reader, The Herta! Reader, Honkai Star Rail x SCP Crossover, Potentially OOC, Reader x Canon, Witch Reader, Short Writing, The Herta! Reader x SCP Character, More stuff like this would be included if interested, SCP FANS ARISE. 🔥🔥🔥

— TW?: Possesive Themes, Be Warned, 035 Being 035 As Usual, Potential Yandere Themes, He Calls You His 'Wife'.

A/N: After hitting maxed pity on Herta's banner along with her LC, I decided to make an interesting crossover because I thought it would be interesting to see how this goes for The Herta! Reader Insert. (Huge bonus that I'm blessed with good stats while I'm building her. 🙏)

You’re the definition of an enigma. A literal spacefaring, unknown anomaly wrapped up in an elegantly appearance, self-aware, and untouchable persona. The Foundation doesn’t know what to do with you, and SCP-035? He’s utterly entranced.

And Who Exactly Are You in the SCP Foundation?

You are Anomaly [REDACTED], a Level 6: CTS entity classified under Euclid. They don’t fully understand what you are—just that you exist, that you have an unsettling level of influence, and that you are playing the longest of long games.

You don’t act out. You don’t cause destruction. You don’t try to escape. Instead, you watch. You let them wonder why you haven’t done anything drastic, knowing full well that the moment you choose to tip the scales, everything changes.

They don’t imprison you because they can’t. They simply keep you in containment because you allow them to.

And then there’s SCP-035.

SCP-035 has never met someone like you before.

He’s charming, cunning, and manipulative—but none of it works on you. Not because you’re immune to him, but because you let him think he’s in control before flipping the script entirely.

You’re his perfect counterpart. The ultimate tease, the unattainable yet tangible anomaly that keeps him guessing.

At first, he tries to toy with you, flirt with you, unnerve you. And then, he realizes.

Oh.

You’re not like the others.

You understand him. You see through every little act, every trick, every calculated play. But instead of rejecting him or trying to outmaneuver him, you do something infinitely worse.

You indulge him.

You let him speak his flowery words, you humor his charm—but it’s clear who the real player is in this game. He’s used to being in control, but you? You make it so easy for him to fall under your spell instead.

And it drives him insane.

The Foundation is uneasy. Not because you’re violent, but because they cannot predict what you’re doing.

Why do you allow SCP-035 to get so close?

Why does SCP-035, a master manipulator, seem to worship you?

What is your endgame?

They want to separate you two, but the problem? 035 actually behaves when you’re around.

If anything, he’s less volatile, less inclined to escape, more… cooperative. But only because he knows that if he behaves, he gets you.

035: (mocking, but with an underlying threat) “Oh? You want to take my darling away? My wife?” (chuckles darkly) “Now, now, let’s not be hasty. You wouldn’t want to see me upset, would you?”

The researchers watching? Having war flashbacks.

The Real Question is...Why You Haven’t Given Him a Permanent Host (Yet)?

Because you’re playing the long game.

You could give him a permanent body. A perfect, indestructible vessel crafted specifically for him. A host that would never rot, never decay, never fail him.

And he knows you can.

That’s why he adores you. That’s why he’s obsessed.

But you? You wait.

You let him yearn. Let him crave it. Let him wonder if today is the day you’ll finally grant him that final gift.

035: (grinning, tilting his host’s head at you) “Tell me, dearest… when will you finally stop teasing me?”

You: (smirking, brushing a hand over his mask, whispering) “Would you love me the same if I gave you everything at once?”

035: … (soft chuckle) “Ah. I see. You do know me too well, don’t you?”

And the Foundation? Losing their minds. Because whatever the hell this is? It’s not normal.

They don’t know if it’s love, obsession, or something far worse.

But they do know one thing:

SCP-035 is yours.

[simp4konig]

Hello, someone forcing Nikto to show his face to his lover... Thoughts?

WARNING! HEAVY, HEAVY ANGST! VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

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"Look at them."

His knees buckled under him, Nikto was kneeling, body subdued and completely overcome with fatigue.

Pain no longer registered in his body, and it more closely resembled a dull ache — like the ache after ripping a tooth with no anesthetic, the gums numb.

Gunshot wounds had torn his flesh, and he was slowly losing consciousness, but he was gritting his teeth with enough pressure to unhinge his own jaw to stay awake. Stay awake. Stay awake stay away stay awake.

A sharp yank of his collar forced Nikto's eyes to find meet Zakhaev's, but Nikto was committing your face to memory — your face, not the one of a corpse, or the ones from the photo albums which were burned before his very eyes.

His eyes were drooping, however, and any second now, he thought he would collapse, his body lulling of its own accord as if he was drunk.

But he was not. He was in so much pain that it made him delirious.

"This is your partner?"

Although the statement was directed at Nikto, Viktor's eyes bore into your own. As he smirked cruelly, the scar on the side of his face sneered at you with equal cruelty, the result of his notoriety and violence.

"Talk, dog. Tell me. Don't make me ask a second time."

Nikto was captured by Zakhaev, and was tortured. Nikto was willing to endure unimaginable pain, to be mutilated, to be ruined beyond salvation, so long as you were safe.

And you were. He was certain. He had taken several precautions, searched various locations for the ideal safe place. To keep you safe.

Somehow, your hideout was found. After all the precautions Nikto had taken, after all of the effort, the dedication, the certainty... in vain.

As if the physical, injuries which were irreversible, the beatings, the brainwashing, the everything wasn't enough, clearly Nikto wasn't sufficiently scarred for Zakhaev to be satisfied. Zakhaev wanted him broken. Destroyed emotionally, so that fight, that passion, and that strength would dissipate, and ultimately disappear. Since Nikto was too much of a threat to the organisation, and Zakhaev's plans.

Nikto's eyes were empty, sockets hollow, void of any emotion. Just a void.

Stubbornly, Nikto remained silent, refusing to humour Viktor with a response.

Instead, his heart ached, his gut clenched, his fists shook, and his eyes stung.

All he could do was look into your eyes. Hoping, praying to God, anyone, anyone at all, that you would be spared. That, for disobedience, one of the bullets in Zakhaev's pistol would go straight through his skull, not yours.

That at least you wouldn't have to face death first.

As if bored, Viktor turned his pistol this way and that, observing it with feigned interest...

...

...To Nikto's horror, instead of aiming the barrel of his gun at him, Viktor was walking towards you.

Zakhaev denied Nikto the sight of your face for your last seconds, deliberately shielding his line of sight. Not out of mercy, but out of spite, and to further rub salt into his wounds — which he would later do with sick, sadistic pleasure.

Every single cell in his body yelled, screamed, shrieked at Nikto to move, to lunge at Zakhaev, to throw himself, to do anything.

But he couldn't move. Not a muscle. Fatigue, pain, and numbness had invaded his bloodstream and paralysed his nervous system, rendering him incapacitated.

No bother.

You were smiling.

Tears streaming down your cheeks like rivers, sobs echoing as you sobbed and sobbed until your throat became hoarse and voice was broken, you were smiling.

You saw Nikto's new face for the first time.

Nikto's face mutilated, scarred, and ruined face of the man who you cherished, whose stubbled cheeks you'd often nuzzle your nose into, whose lips you'd kiss.

God. What had they done to him? You could recognise those blue-gray eyes any day, but they no longer resembled ice which would melt at the sight of you; instead, they were empty. Soulless.

Yet, as ruined and mutilated as it was, it was still the face of your Nikto.

Nonetheless, you saw Nikto's new face for the first time.

And last.

As, Nikto's face, was the last thing that you ever would see. Half obscured by Zakhaev's body, yes, and your vision blurred by tears, you still saw it. That was enough.

Before Zakhaev unceremoniously pulled the trigger, and your body became limp. Cold. Your mind at rest, but your eyes becoming blind, denied the sight of your lover forever.

Not at peace, though. You could only rest, since you wouldn't, couldn't find peace. Not after being burdened with the knowledge of what's been done to him, and what's going to be done to him.

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A/Ns

second wip finished!!!!!

from a very fluffy fic to something gutwrenching... you're NOT welcome. you ARE however welcome to publicly execute me if u so wish ❤️ (u deserve at least THAT after reading this 💔)

no tag list bc i thought that this was very heavy and i did not want to tag my moots+followers in this lest this trigger them:(

anyways, ty anon for the ask !!! probably (definitely) NOT what you had in mind... but those were my thoughts 🥲

[evolve-rat]

Reading the Vulture article about Neil Gaiman, and I'm only about 15% of the way through, but the comparison to Richard Madoc from Sandman hit me like a train. They tell on themselves. They ALWAYS tell on themselves.

[gotham-daydreams]

Honestly, in a situation like not [] where they aren't willing to physically hurt the reader but psychologically mess with them? It's fucked but at the same time I have too good of an imagination. When it comes to neglect there's so many aspects of it that could happen and even if I'm pissed I could keep my mouth shut to the point I feel numb.

I mean they can't change you or break you if you just stay in your own head after all? Lil stories in your head to keep you busy, unholy amount of hours spent sleeping. I don't care if I waste away if it means not having to deal with people who won't even listen or admit that it's gonna take time to undo trauma and won't take the proper steps to undo it.

They take things up a notch and limit food or start doing things that prevent you from sleeping? Do it, at least the hat man will be a better friend. Can't break what's not there, the batfam always has this mindset that so long as they get their way that they would do what's necessary but that's entirely because they are all too selfish to actually really respect how you feel. And no amount of bugging me or yelling at me or trying to get a rise out of me will change the fact I can just slip into my mind and ignore it all.

The only way I'd ever stop being in my head and not even wasting time on them is if they actually tried to be genuine in fixing things and admit they fucked up and are doing it out of guilt. Either put down your pride or stay with a reader who will gladly stay tucked away in the crevice of their brain in an imaginary field of flowers with whatever lil character they make to enjoy the time in their head <3

Anyways I love your series and can't wait for more!! Please take care and hydrate!!!

I do agree! Especially in this scenario where they’re way more unwilling to physically hurt the reader, because... well, they want to hear your music! Like a little songbird, just tucked away from the public eye, just for them to hear you sing...

It'll definitely get on their nerves, and some will probably crumble under the pressure - but those that don't aren't actually the ones you should be worried about. I mean, of course they'll try to do everything else they can, and at that point - its a contest of willpower and to see who can outlast the other (and spoiler, most of them will definitely lose), but some are definitely more stubborn than others. After all, their 'love' is spawned out of guilt, obligation, and a messy mix of things that's turned into this ugly beast of a thing they see as love - if you aren't willing to take it, then that's fine, but you definitely aren't getting anything until you do.

Though, again, at some point the time and treatment definitely begins to effect them too. And that’s... not good, especially when some of them are known for their resolve, will, and general ability to withstand so much crap despite not even being superhuman (even if in all honesty, compared to the average guy, they may as well be). Them being insane does not help with that fact.

They'll begin to consider things they wouldn't have even thought of before out of sheer desperation and need. They'll think about it, plan it out a little, and before they even know it - they're losing hours of sleep trying to find ways to actually execute it. Hell - some may even act impulsively, and just flat out do it without giving it a second thought. Because they can't. They can't think. They can't sleep. Not without you - not after another month, another week, another day, another hour, another second without you.

They need it. Need you. Need your warmth, your presence - to feel like they're doing something right, even when its so wrong. Even if they've left you damaged beyond repair, some still want to feel like they can fix you, put you back together... and what better way to feed that delusion then to hold you in their arms? To do all of these things with you... even if you're not mentally there?

At that point, they'd sacrifice never being able to hear your music from you to get that. To have that fabricated connection. They'd give up that one thing that's been keeping them from harming you physically, and go all out.

[Which... descriptions of losing limbs, and general gore under the cut, it's not pretty but not super detailed either? Yes, it's towards the reader. Yes the reader is awake. There is no cut away, but some dancing around using some phrases repeatedly. Consider yourself warned and advised. Even if it's just descriptions - the family isn't playing nice.]

Maybe they'd start small... just a leg, maybe two, not even a foot- your legs from the knee down are going indefinitely. Maybe even the whole thing if certain people do it impulsively, and aren't thinking - aside from the fact that they need you close, but they just have to get these things out of the way. To lessen your struggle, to reassure themselves you won't run, of course - after all, you can't run if they just... take away that option, right? It's for the best, they'd tell themselves, they need to do this. They have to. You gave them no other choice- and now... now they had to make a tough choice. They have to do this.

If it's done impulsively, it's messy. I guess not having a lot of experience cutting off limbs or disabling someone isn't going to make things easier, who knew, am I right? Taking lives (for some of them), and beating people up is one thing, but cutting off arms and legs? It's weird to think about until you're the one doing it, and in a frenzy no less.

Some of the more impulsive ones you really have to look out for, because if they do it then it is painful, and that is no exaggeration. As much as they're thinking about you, they also aren't at the same time - at least not you in the present as they're doing the removal. You'll pass out from pain, or just the visceral sight right before you witness your leg getting torn off. Real messy stuff. It's not subtle at all, they barely hide it - if they even try to allow you that luxury. If anything, you see too much of it. Either way, you're out like a light, and left with whatever you saw as nothing is left to the imagination. Unless your fucked up mind makes it worse, to which- a lot is left to the imagination as that nightmare of a scene is messed with and mixed in your head like a toddler left in the kitchen.

Of course, the family will take care of the messy outcome, and get you to another room and everything (after all, they have one too many spar ones), but, well, that won't change the reality of the situation, will it? Hell, get one of the more rough ones pissed off or just do something one of the more impulsive ones doesn't like, and you'll lose your arms, and depends on who does it - you'll lose them just as you lost your legs, and you'll get to watch... before you pass out, of course.

Maybe they'll get you things to help, like robotic limbs and such, though its not that great and doesn't make things easier. Not even a little. They'll be able to control everything you do, essentially, down to what you can even touch or interact with.

You'll feel more trapped then you ever have before, as even your body, every limb attached to your torso is theirs. Theirs to control. To mess with, and just like before, they'll take it away if you do something that makes them upset.

They'll leave you more than just defenseless.

[theotherwoman-emily]

Headphones Advised 🎧

[corazondebeskar-reads]

how to break a girl in ten easy steps - part four

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

words: 600

summary: rewind. play it back from the start.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, non-con, captivity, predator/prey, capture, non-linear storytelling, brief mentions of car accidents - no graphic description. there's nothing explicit in this chapter, but it's still fairly dark.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

NOTE: please read and heed the series and chapter warnings. this is very dark. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. please read responsibly.

Step One Once you’ve selected the perfect girl, make arrangements to bring her home. Remember all the elements of a successful acquisition: stealth, strength, and speed. Follow the tips in Appendix B to avoid unwanted attention. 

He’d been looking for a girl like you. A dumb little thing who no one would miss. He had everything else he wanted — his land, his cabin, his truck, his guns. Everything his shriveled old heart could want, except a warm cunt. 

And, admittedly, he was just a little lonely. Not enough to want to be around people more. No, he made his chit-chat on monthly shopping trips.

The townsfolk liked him an awful lot. Sure, it was mostly pity, but he’d fixed enough fences and done his part at a few barn raisings. Always asked Billy at the hardware about his grandkids and tipped Sheila generously at the cafe. Kept the boys at the Sheriff’s department flush with venison and took care of any mountain lions that wandered too close to the residential areas. 

He heard them whisperin’. Poor Old Man Miller, what a sad bastard, living by himself out in the woods since the accident. 

You’d stayed at the little motel for a night, and seemed to have moved on in the morning. 

Seemed to. 

What was left of your shitty, banged-up little sedan was in his tertiary barn. Your shitty sedan, an old truck he’d been halfway through fixing up a long time ago, and the remains of another truck covered by a tarp (which, in turn, was covered by a thick layer of dust) in the back corner. 

A little graveyard of sorts.

He’d known when he saw you sippin’ coffee in the diner. Eyes darting around you, clearly put off by the dinky little country town you’d stumbled across for the night. All alone and so sweet. So fuckin’ pretty. You were perfect. 

And by the next night, you were his.

You’d been just passing through. But you’d driven through the night, and now that it was the next afternoon, you knew you had to call it soon. The only thing around was some pit stop of a town; all huddled around the off-ramp on the south side of the mountain pass. A Holiday Inn was nestled behind a gas station, and you couldn’t tell if either were really open. 

The Speedway was a success, doing yourself the favor of filling your tank tonight so you could hit the road at first light with no extra stops. The Holiday Inn, however, was way out of your budget. Luckily, on the other side of the highway was a dinky motel and a cute little diner whose neon sign was speaking all the right words—and those words were “24-hour breakfast.” 

As expected, there weren’t too many people inside. It was dubiously clean and probably was a nice place fifty years ago. Now, the Formica tabletops were cracked and stained. The bench’s vinyl cover was ripped, but you didn’t mind any. Not when you can smell eggs and pancakes already.

There was a grizzled man at the counter with a cup of black coffee. His dark eyes narrowed and followed you, sending spidery shivers down your neck. You ignored him, even though he kept looking at you while you ate. Every town had its old perverts, and so long as he didn’t try anything, you’d forget all about him by the next day.

Or, you would have. If only he hadn’t been the one to pull you from the wreck of your little Toyota after that pickup drove you off the road. 

If only. 

[idontplaytrack]

Can you write something with a regressed Janis?

Either Janis x Reader or rejanis please

(I love all your work you’re amazing)

✧ Tiny monkey

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Regina George

Warnings: age regression, fluff

Janis gets into Regina’s gummy bears, unintentionally slipping into regression in front of her for the first time

The gang was all gathered at Janis’ after their thanksgiving dinners. It was a little plan they decided on to spend some time together after all the family chaos at home. “Hi, baby.” Regina was the first to arrive. “Hey.” Janis smiled into the kiss, smooching the blonde a second time.

“You alright?” Janis asks, shutting the door.

“My back’s been acting up a bit the last two days, but yeah. I’m alright.” Regina promised, “I already took something for it.”

“Okay,” Janis nodded, her palm caressing Regina’s lower back comfortingly before they both sat on Janis’ couch.

They started a movie while waiting for the rest of the group to get here. Over the next twenty minutes, they all came streaming in nearly one after another. They didn’t have a solid plan for the night, just wanting to sit around and hang out. Cady suggested a card game, then Karen wanted to play Mastermind, then somehow, they were playing drinking games. Well, it was kind of a stretch. They were just playing any card or board games they wanted but brought alcohol into the mix just for the heck of it. Two beers on, Janis was officially clingy, leaning against Regina as she sipped on beer number three. Regina notices the warmth of Janis being so close, looking down to see her so comfortable. “You might want to slow down on the beer, Jay.”

Janis mumbles, “No.” Reaching into a bag of gummy bears, popping one into her mouth. She wasn’t at all focused on their game of Uno anymore.

Regina lets out an exhale in amusement, but resumed playing the game, adding a +4 card to the deck, Cady was next so she grumbled but took four cards from the deck.

When Janis started giggling at Cady’s reaction, it caused Regina to look at her again. “Okay, what’s so funny about that?”

“G, is she…”

“A little kooky? Yeah.” Regina raised a brow, pulling a confused face at the smaller girl. It only made her laugh harder.

“Okay— what the heck is going on with you?” Regina asked softly, losing focus of everything and everyone else but Janis.

Janis shrugged, scrunching up her face before sulking.

“Are you high?!” Regina’s eyes went wide.

“Hi.” Janis chuckled airily, looking up at Regina.

“Oh, yeah.” Damian chimed in, “Girl — why are you always doing something like that?”

“Sorry.” Janis mumbled, putting the beer can down as she shuddered. Damian narrowed his eyes at his best friend.

“Okay.” Damian stood up, “Everybody, out. Party’s over.”

“What?” They chorused, “I mean, she’s okay? Right?”

“Yes, but honestly she’s too out of it.” Damian continued, “Y’all, out you go, good night. We’ll do this again sometime.”

The group was a bit confused, but they promptly said bye and left anyway. Once it was just the three of them, Damian asks, “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

————

“I know she’s high.” Regina shrugged.

“Okay, yes.” Damian confirmed, “But, she’s also…regressed.”

“What?” Regina asked, eyes panning over to Janis who was currently trying to grab the bag of gummy bears. “Baby, no. Don’t eat that anymore.”

“Whyyyy.” She sulked.

“Don’t pull that face on me.” Regina sounded a little irritated, but truthfully it was confusion that she was feeling— and perhaps a little bit of worry, “It’s mine, I was taking that for my back pain.”

“You might need to talk to her a little differently right now.” Damian began, “Age regression. Do you know what that is?”

Regina blinked profusely, looking between Damian and Janis, then back at Damian again, “Oh.”

Damian kept the eye contact, “So is that a yes?”

“Yeah.” Regina nodded, “Yeah, I know what that is. I just need to figure out what works best for her during.”

“Need my help? Should I stay for a bit?” Damian offered.

“Ooh.” Janis gasped, getting up from the floor and rushing to her closet to rummage through it.

“What— hey!” Regina wasn’t used to just how much quicker Janis seemed to be when regressed.

“She’s fine.” Damian said confidently. “Probably just getting her favourite fluffy blanket.”

“How long has she been using this as a way to…cope…?”

“Uh, I’ve known for a year, give or take. Don’t really have the heart to ask more about it. I just know how to tell when she is in that headspace.” Damian answers, “Now I know she feels safe enough around you to not hold herself back.”

“So why—”

“It’s a lot. You don’t want to get into that right now. Just keep her fed, happy and safe. We’ll talk about that another time.”

Regina bit the inside of her cheek as she watched Janis happily walk back to her with a fleece blanket and a tiny little monkey plushie.

‘So, she keeps the stuff she needs in that storage box in her closet— got it’ Regina made a mental note.

“Are you cold, baby?” Regina ask, like on reflex as her hand ran up and down the brunette’s back. Janis had the blanket draped over her shoulders much like a cape while holding onto the little toy in her hand. As she answered with a nod, she absolutely just leans onto Regina.

“Very clingy, aren’t you?” Regina teased.

“She’s either clingy or running all over the place.” Damian remarked, then he gets hit in the face by the stuffed animal in Janis’ hand. Regina cackled, “Why are you ratting her out like that, Damian? That’s not very nice of you.”

“Ha ha.” Damian scoffed but nicely handed the stuffed animal back to Janis.

“That’s what you get for talking about someone right in front of them~” Regina smirked, wrapping her arms around Janis.

“You’re one to talk.” Damian gave her a look jokingly.

“How old is she?” Regina mouthed to the guy.

“Five.” He answered the same way, holding up a hand to show it.

“Damn.” Regina said back, brows raised for a moment. “Oh, she’s out.” Regina realised Janis had dozed off.

“If she’s not fussing or anything, just let her nod off until she wakes up. If you move her, she’ll most likely get woken up and be upset.” Damian informed hers

Regina nodded, Damian continues, “Everything she needs are in those two storage boxes in her closet. No one else knows that she regresses, so don’t bring it up anywhere else, to anyone else.”

“I got that, yeah.” Regina assured.

“She’s pretty good at telling you what she wants even when she’s regressed so just ask if you’re not sure. If she gets the zoomies or whatever you call it, she’s good in the garage. It’s her safe space. Otherwise? Backyard. Playgrounds or any other places like that— only when there aren’t any other people around. If you have to bring her out, let her bring this monkey or whatever other comfort item she wants. It will keep her calm.”

“Has she ever…gotten into that headspace in public?”

“Only once. I took her home immediately because she was starting to seem like she was just going to full on, be sobbing in the mall. And I mean actually screaming and throwing a fit.”

“There are usually triggers. Right? Do you know hers?”

“Yeah but I don’t really know how to explain some of hers. But one of them would be lack of sleep, higher chance when coupled with high stress or anxiety.” Damian carried on explaining.

“Okay.” Regina nodded solemnly, “So then food and drinks wise, what’s not okay for her?”

“She regresses to about 5 to 7. So all is fine, just don’t intentionally be giving her alcohol or make her high for shits and giggles. She will ask for them gummy bears or brownies and she has— I’ve only ever given in once and regretted it almost immediately because the girl was first laughing, then laughing so hard her stomach hurt so she started to throw a goddamn fit and cried.”

“Sounds about right.” Regina bit back a laugh, “She still kinda does that sometimes.”

“Well now you know more.” Damian shrugs, “I think you’ll be fine if I leave you alone with her, right?”

“I think I got it.” Regina decided, “Thanks.”

“If you have any other questions though, just talk to me.” Damian pointed out.

“I will.” Regina promised, “I have your number, dude.”

“Alright, good night.” Damian got up, gathered his belongings and headed home.

It was barely 9 at night, and Janis’ little nap came to an end about half an hour later when she woke up on her own and decided she’s rested enough. “Will you blow bubbles for me?!” Janis asked eagerly.

“Huh?” The question had failed to fully register on first listen.

“I want bubbles. Can we play?” Janis repeated herself.

“Do you have—”

Janis nodded before Regina could say anymore.

“Of course you do. Sure, baby.” Regina caught up with Janis, now just keeping an eye on her to make sure she wasn’t going to somehow injure herself. Janis had dragged out both storage boxes and then located the bubble wand. She wasn’t about to just let them both sit inside and make a mess on the floor with the soapy liquid— though she could. But since they were in the garage, the door could easily be opened and allow them to sit right by the driveway so the mess landed outside of Janis’ safe space.

“Come here, baby. Let’s sit down right here.” Regina took her by the hand and led her to sit down right outside her garage. Regina struggled a little due to her back, Janis looked at her with worried eyes. “I’m alright.” Regina assured with a smile. “Kay.” Janis replied, arm resting on Regina’s thigh. Regina untwisted the cap, dipping the wand into the container a few times before bringing it up to her lips. Effortlessly, Janis was entertained by the bunch of bubbles that started to float around. “Wanna try?” Regina held the wand out for Janis. She nodded excitedly, giggling before she blew some herself and started to laugh harder. Janis’ excitement over something so simple really tickled Regina, making her laugh a little too. “Is it fun?”

“Yeah.” Janis answered, “Do it again.”

Regina did as she said without hesitation, wanting more than anything to hear that laughter. It sounded like music to her ears and was absolutely adorable. Was she laughing because she’s regressed or because she got into my gummy bears for pain? Regina wasn’t sure, but as long as she could tell Janis was physically fine, she couldn’t really care less.

“Gina, I want a snacky.” Janis said quietly.

“You want a snack?” Regina asked in confirmation.

The other girl nods, “Uh-huh.”

“What snack do you want?” Regina crouched down a little to catch her gaze, Janis finally looks at her.

“String cheese?” Janis asked with a toothy grin.

“Okay, I’ll be right back, hm?” Regina got up again and left Janis seated on the floor alone, “Will you be good and stay put or do I have to take you with me?”

Janis pondered for a moment, “I be on the couch.”

“You’ll be on the couch? Alright.” Regina’s lips tug into a small smile as she messed with the shorter girl’s hair while she stood up still holding onto the bubble wand. Janis scrunched up her face again and laughed when she felt her hair getting messed with. “I’ll be back in a second, Jay.”

“Okayyyy~” Janis said back, flopping onto the couch as she tilted the closed bubble wand from side to side, watching the soapy liquid inside move towards either direction. She even chuckles at that and when Regina returns bearing the snack Janis asked for and a couple of Capri-suns, the brunette set the bubble wand down on the coffee table.

“Alright.” Regina began, “Do you have the soapy water on your hands?”

“Nope.” Janis answered, popping the ‘p’.

“Really?” Regina teased, sitting down by her girlfriend, “Lemme check.”

Janis scrunched up her face, unimpressed but obliged, holding out her palms to let the blonde see.

“Okay, they’re clean.” Regina smiled at the facial expression that she seems to be doing a lot of currently, “Here you go. Brought you a drink too.”

“Hehe, yay.” Janis grabbed the string cheese from Regina’s hand, “Thankies.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” Regina was smiling so much, her cheeks hurt. She didn’t mind though, she just happily sat next to Janis and watched her enjoy her snack. “Hm, you wanna watch TV?”

As Janis nibbled on her snack, she naturally started clinging onto Regina again soon enough. Janis nodded without a word. “What do you want to watch?” Regina asks, recalling that the girl had several DVDs in her designated storage boxes. Janis got out of her seat and back to those boxes by her closet to retrieve the DVD. Regina took one from her and helped her set it up quickly.

Regina would’ve never thought she’d be sitting through a full hour or so of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, but for Janis, she did— with no complaints. Well, Regina could’ve dozed off but she didn’t. It wasn’t too bad after all. Tolerable.

“Bed soon?” Regina asks absentmindedly.

“Nooooo.” Janis gasped, the string cheese packaging she was fiddling with, fell from her hand onto the couch.

“Please?”

“No.” Janis sulked.

“Whyyy.” Regina played along.

“Cause.” Janis snuggles closer.

Regina wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or scoff. To her, this squabble was hilarious, but she was also worried about Janis getting enough sleep.

“How about…we snuggle together till you sleep?” Regina suggested.

“No.” Janis says that just to spite her.

“Aw.”

Janis then started to giggle, barely able to stifle it.

“Please, baby, you need to rest enough.”

“Aw.” Janis mocked. Regina’s eyes went wide, “Did you just mock me?”

Janis blinked and looked right into Regina’s eyes, “No.”

“Sure you aren’t.” Regina resisted the urge to pinch her cheeks. God, why was she so cute?

“I like you.” Janis says, nearly chuckling, “You’re nice.”

“Oh, I am?” Regina glances at her.

“You areee.” Janis nodded, then leaned her head on Regina’s chest. Her arm was then looped around the blonde’s torso.

“Still don’t wanna sleep?” Regina asks.

“Need to brush my teeth.” She mumbled.

“Yeah.” Regina rubs her back, “Let’s go, then we can snuggle some more. Deal?”

“Deal.” Janis agreed quickly.

Janis grabs a different toothbrush from the storage box before Regina took her inside the house for the bathroom. It was quiet, neither of her parents were downstairs so she could only assume they were in their own room, and thank goodness for that since no one else knew about Janis being regressed. While she didn’t want to rush Janis, Regina also made sure to keep things moving.

“Okay, all clean?” Regina looked at Janis in the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

“Yup.” Janis nodded, smiling to show the blonde.

“Good job.” Regina smiled back, kissing her on the cheek, “Let’s go snuggle.”

“Yayyyy.”

As promised, they snuggled up in Janis’ bed once they got back into her garage. “I’m gonna need you to just close your eyes and sleep, okay? It’s getting late and I don’t want you to be tired tomorrow. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Can we get milkshakes?” Janis asks sleepily, “Tomorrow?

“Of course, tomorrow.” Regina agrees, “I promise.”

“Okay.” Janis smiled, contentedly as she reached for another stuffed animal— a monkey too, but a more huggable size. Regina noticed the little bit of a struggle so she helps her grab it, “Here you go, baby.”

“Thankie.” Janis laughed lightly, instantly hugging the toy tightly, nuzzling her face against the material.

“Good night, you little monkey.” Regina sighs, hand returning to the up and down motion to lull her girlfriend to sleep.

“Nighty nighty.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

I just about died from cuteness overload writing this request 😭 hopefully tumblr doesn’t glitch out again and make this one poof 💨

[perpetual-fandom-brainrot]

Shadow (Dark Link x Reader x Link)

Summary: The reader accidentally stumbles into Dink's boss room while scouting ahead for monsters.

MASTERLIST Warnings: 18+ themes such as gore, graphic descriptions of death and fatal injury, emotional/psychological manipulation, etc. coming up. Reader actually dies and is revived. This story is not suitable for small children and easily disturbed individuals.

The temple is completely silent aside from the moves of yourself and your best friend, Link. At first he'd warned you to stay in the safety of Kakariko, but lost that argument when you'd held your own in a sparring match.

Now, the two of you gaze upon the expanse of the room you'd emerged from. Lots of water, as expected, fills the area. You notice a plethora of hookshot points, platforms, and tectites. None of them see you or Link as you swim past them to a hallway entrance. You find that it leads to an underwater passage.

In fact, most hallways do, you realize as you trail Link throughout the temple. Most of that trailing is spent picking off monsters Link can't get to, helping point out puzzle solutions, and quickly stealing Navi's attention if her timing is inopportune. Conversation between Link and yourself is scarce, both a strategic decision and a comfortable one, especially for you. Too many other things might come up right now, things that will cause more problems than will be solved if you choose silence. So you do, especially underwater, where magic is your lifeline. Both you and Link have fully stocked up on bottles of magic for this reason.

That magic almost goes to waste when a sing-song voice calls Link's name. You resist a gasp as your attention is drawn to the literal princess who produced it. How in Hylia's name is she here? You suppose, as the sacred house to the water medallion, it's technically still part of the Zora domain, but you distinctly remember hearing how all of Hyrule's royalty is dead, hiding, or otherwise decommissioned. Perhaps Ruto is safe here? When you look to Link's face to read his expression, he looks shocked and semi-afraid.

"It's me! Your fiancée! Ruto! I never forgot our vows from seven years ago." The princess' words horrify the hero and leave you nearly choking again. Fiancée? Vows? Seven years? She's not serious, is she? "You were so mean to keep me waiting," definitely serious, "but this moment can't be for love. My domain, I know you saw it's completely frozen! A man named Sheik freed me from the ice. The others haven't woken, so I need your help to save them! As my future husband it's your duty!" Ruto, finally ready to drop the marriage topic, proceeds to explain the temple's three water control points, and even leads you to one of them. She's gone by the time you and Link reach the top, most likely continuing ahead without you.

Link reads over the symbols on the wall, muttering to himself the whole time you're inspecting this tiny room. A soothing song comes from that ocarina of his mere moments later. The water level lowers, much to your intrigue. Magic must be part of the architecture here, you think. Instead of vocalizing your curiosity about the subject, you wordlessly follow Link into the next room and help pick off the monsters you find, grabbing the map out of the chest that appears. After examining it, you decide to head back for the bottom floor. The string of rooms brimming with monsters and puzzles begins with that simple jump down. A puzzle, a new room, some monsters, a key. This process repeats twice to get you to the second water control point, which also has to be activated through song.

This one raises the water, although not as high as it was earlier, allowing you and Link to enter a newly revealed passage. It leads deeper into the temple, where the new area leads to a puzzle, more monsters, and another key.

"Is this what every temple is like?" You ask, fingers tapping against your weapon's grip point.

"Yep." Link grunts as he stores the key in his satchel. "There's usually more foes than this," he adds. Your chest swells and tightens at the same time, your eyes going wide with a harsh realization. He could die here. You could both die here. What if one of you gets fatally injured in the midst of a difficult battle? It would be a choice between saving the other person or trying to fight off the monsters quick enough to still have time to do so. What if you ran out of healing items?

"We should split up soon," you find yourself blurting, partially for good reason and partially for the selfishness of not wanting to potentially see Link die.

"Why?" He asks firmly. He was difficult to persuade when it came to your accompaniment, you hope this might be easier.

"We have no idea what to expect in here! Monsters, items, locked doors, sure we know that. Not what kind of monsters, or how many, or where any of those item chests might be. Plus, if you run out of supplies before we split up, I'd be able to smash a jar here and there to bring you back more."

At your words, the same reluctance from Kakariko this morning crosses his face. You know Navi can identify new monsters for him, but you also latch onto the glimmer of consideration adorning his eyes at your offer to pick some off and scavenge for extra items.

"Fine," he finally says, hesitance mostly gone. Warmth blooms in you at his trust that you can handle yourself on that level. This isn't something any random Hylian can handle. You keep that thought in the front of your mind as Link dives back in the direction you came from. You follow soon after.

The third and final water control point sits above a room containing a water geyser puzzle. You draw your bow to shoot the crystal once you and Link both stand on it, raising you to the door leading to the control point. With the water only partially filling the temple, the point you've entered appears to be a vantage point over the temple's main area. It becomes level with everything else when Link brings the water up, and on you go to the next locked door.

You instantly shoot down two waiting keese on the wall behind the door, returning it to your gear when no more show up. Link yanks you back as you attempt to step further into the room. You're preparing to be annoyed, but immediately take notice of how the room is built. You would have fallen clean off the area you now stand on and landed on a platform about 10 feet below you. That platform leads to more platforms, one of which sits on the same wall and four others slowly fall down a waterfall's current. You groan when you notice the hookshot platforms. Link laughs softly beside you.

"The hookshot is uncomfortable!" You whine in defense, while a much worse feeling creeps up your spine. How many rooms has it been since you last encountered a monster? "Tell you what, I have to get used to it anyway. Let me scout ahead now! I'll tell you all about the next puzzles when I come back," you hastily promise before snatching the hookshot from Link. You cross the room before you can back down and before he can protest. The next room, another hookshot puzzle which contains a crystal, almost makes you want to rip your hair out. You don't, instead keeping a cool head as you pass through the room, alternating between bow and hookshot to activate the crystal and cross gaps between the platforms.

You're about to celebrate when you see one last hookshot point, but your face goes pale when you notice spikes directly underneath it and a slime creature bigger than you waiting on the other side. With sword drawn, you hook onto the ceiling, immediately doing a downwards spin-slash to finish it off when you drop to the floor. The next door is not locked.

The room it leads to is not inhabited. Instead of monsters, puzzles, or chests, you're greeted by a peaceful scene. An endless expanse of calm, shallow water expanded on all sides. The only disruptions are the door you came from, the door leading forward, and a small sand mound with a leafless tree sitting between them. You take a step forward and find that the water reflects your face perfectly. You feel oddly safe to take another step despite no visual of solid ground. Your feet sink slightly, but nothing more. You walk, then pause when you notice the door ahead has bars on it. The room is empty, isn't it? You turn around in a panic, trying to spot anywhere a monster could hide. In the water maybe? You take a second look at the surface, only to see a lack of your reflection. The pit of your stomach sinks. This room, and whatever is going on, is fueled by magic. This thing didn't need to hide from you, it could hide itself.

"You're not the hero," a voice sneers, sounding as though the room itself is speaking. That tone, that slight rasp anyone else would miss, it sounds just like-

A hand suddenly covers your mouth, your body being pulled backwards against another. Your instincts call on your weapons, but your assailant grips your wrist with superior strength. A sob begins building in your throat. This is a foe, one who is clearly prepared for Link and not some Hylian girl. You're dead. You'll never get to run around the village again. You'll never get to train with a sword again. You'll never get to tell Link-

"That's right, you'll never get to tell Mr. Hero-boy that you loOove him~" the voice purrs against your ear, his its tone cruel and mocking in a level whisper. Your lungs freeze when you process the words' true meaning. this thing knows your deepest secret and deepest fear. Worst of all, its voice sounds almost like Link's with the exceptions of a heavier rasp, being slightly deeper, and a permanent sadistic venom lacing every word he it spoke.

"I'm so touched you know who I am," it continues. Your body is jerked in a 180-degree spin and shoved to the ground, leaving you sprawled out and disoriented. You're still reeling from being winded like that when you notice a blade at your throat and freeze. A familiar blade, only darkly colored rather than the hauntingly beautiful silver you're used to. You slowly bring your gaze upwards, eyes meeting Link's face when you fully meet the monster's. It's Link?

"I am not that foolish child of the light," it says with a snort, still sounding calm and deadly whilst amused. "No, I am the stronger and more courageous warrior he could not bring himself to be. That Link, that hero that you love so much, he will never be what you think he is. He will never be what I am. I will pry what is rightfully mine from his sinking corpse." The last sentence is a growl full of venom and jealousy that has you trembling. Something tells you this monster really does stand a chance against the mighty hero of time. You would be mad, you should be mad, but his blade still sat against your neck. You don't dare to move or speak as you try to form a plan.

"Tell you what, here's a plan:" Link's evil copy presses his blade against your throat more, "I kill you, possess your corpse, and force hero boy to choose between letting it kill him or mangling it in order to stop me!" The monster says it like it's trying to suggest a fun new game you haven't heard of before. His eyes are wide with a sadistic kind of glee, one that enjoys seeing you so terrified, meanwhile something in you stirs. At first it's slight, something you bite back, but you can't just let him talk about Link like that.

"Don't even-" Evil Link begins, slashing his blade, but you roll away in time to get slashed on the shoulder instead. It isn't too deep of a wound, but you need to make quick work of this foe or else you'll lose your edge. Springing up, you jump backwards before drawing your sword and shield. The monster charges at you with a cry not unlike your Link's. You try not to think about it as you raise your shield to parry the incoming slash. With the opening it creates you manage a minor slice on his its shoulder. It isn't the monster's sword shoulder, but if it causes any struggle it's worth it.

As you take the second to acknowledge your handiwork, you find your own wrist being slashed at. You get a mild cut, hand starting to shake as you force yourself to support your sword. You back away in even steps, Link's dark version matching your pace. He It suddenly sinks back into the floor below when you're about to reach the other door again. Your reflection not returning keeps you on guard. As you survey the room for the monster, its words pop back into your head. It talked about Link like he's nothing! You internally seethe. Clinking behind you gathers your alert and you turn around just in time to brace your shield against his blade. It bounces backwards harshly enough to dent your shield and send the monster stumbling into the wall behind him. You step forward and slash at him again, inflicting a gash on his arm that's severe but not deadly. He drops his sword and shield, one arm now too hurt and one arm holding the gash. He only grits his teeth at you and glares before disappearing again.

You smile victoriously and saunter back to the door leading forward. I never could've gotten a hit on the real Link, you think as you reach for the bars over the door-

Wait, what? Your heart speeds up immediately as you retreat from the door. That's impo-

You feel warmth travel down your abdomen, a very heavy warmth that makes you instantly sleepy. You yawn and reach down to try to pull it over you like a blanket, hands wrapping around something. Your hazed mind doesn't realize the object is sharp as you weakly tug on it, becoming frustrated when you have no success pulling it up. You tear up, but a soothing feeling settles in your throat when you try to cry rather than choking. Slowly, you find yourself falling asleep as your vision fades out.

You wake up what feels like hours later, to Navi's concerned voice and a fairy missing from your inventory. Exhaustion is still burrowed into your bones and unconsciousness keeps a desperate grip on the corners of your mind.

"Y/n! Y/n! Thank Hylia! What in her name happened here?!" The fairy's voice is fast, full of panic. You open your mouth to speak, but as the memories fade back you can't even begin to process it. Saying it proves impossible when you burst into tears, resisting the urge to scream when your body instinctively tries to choke.

"I- I'll get Link! Stay here!" You reach to try to stop Navi when she flies towards you, but you're too fatigued and a sharp pain in your abdomen stops you. You lose the ability to keep your cries silent. It hurts so badly, you don't even want to breathe because even that causes pain. You swear you can feel it in your organs, even. The little blue-winged fairy carefully, silently, sifts through your belongings and extracts the hookshot before she leaves the room. You curl up in the water, which no longer bears your reflection in the absence of the shadow being, and lift your armor slowly to peek at the wound.

Despite having a fairy's healing applied, the wound is horrendous, and looking at the surrounding skin has you in hysterics. Inflamed, red, with a bubbling rash and several tender bruises already visible. Not to mention the stab wound sitting in the center, looking somewhat scabbed over but still obviously new. You try not to think too hard about it, or about anything except Link, as you slip into the simplicity of the morning's memories for comfort.

"Link! Link!" You call excitedly as you jog towards the Death Mountain gate to greet the currently blue-clad hero. You notice he's brandishing a different sword than the famous Blade of Evil's Bane. "New tunic and a new blade in the same day? Awesome!" You cheer, skipping next to Link, who stays quiet beside you. "Where're you headed now?"

"Water temple," Link grunts. When he notices the spark in your eye, visible concern replaces his typically stoic expression.

"Do you need extra eyes?" You ask eagerly. "An extra blade to back you up?" Link turns to you and grabs your shoulders. You know what he's about to say when he opens his mouth.

"Y/n, it is my job to save Hyrule. Not yours. I'll be back before you know it. You're safest in Kakariko," he says in a firm yet comforting tone. A cheeky grin spreads across your face as you form a plan.

"Let me spar you! How about that? If I can't defend myself against you, I'll stay here!" You announce. Link sighs with a defeated look as you celebrate and prepare your gear.

The door opening and Link's alarmed exclamations bring you back to your unfortunate reality. You open your mouth to try to explain, but break all over again when he gently moves to shush you. You can't help but flinch away from his hand. He looks confused, hurt for a moment, before he notices a fairy missing from your healing items. Potion is immediately poured into your mouth, your eyes tracking the seams on the leather covering his hands. You physically relax as the calm warmth of healing comes over you, a much different and more blissful warmth than the one you remember from earlier. You drift back to sleep, barely registering a pair of arms lifting you as you fade away.

You wake in the middle of Kakariko. It's the middle of the night and it's foggy. Everyone is inside for the night. The village is dead silent. The moon and stars are absent, yet a gentle light is barely visible through the fog. It's beautiful, and red. You think it may be a torch at first, other villagers you can't see, but the light seems to shrink as you approach. Curiosity fills you, urging you forward. More characteristics about the light become distinct the closer you get. The source splits into two separate ones when you're what seems to be a few feet away. Their shape becomes perfectly circular.

Your blood goes cold. You freeze in place when you see Link. The evil one, the one made of darkness. The one who had... encountered you in the temple. A smirk crawls up his face as he yanks you towards him and pivots. You feel the edge of the abandoned well dig into your back. You don't have time to process how his eyes aren't red, how his hair turned white, how his skin turned grey. How he looks more human now. He completely fills your personal space, his body pressed wholly against yours as he tips you backwards over the edge of the well, lips poking your ear.

"Welcome home, y/n~" he whispers before shoving you over the well's rim. A scream rips from your throat as you fall into infinite darkness, Kakariko village, your home, getting smaller and smaller. You flail, you cry, you helplessly try to grab for anything that will get you out of this. The air feels like it's moving too fast for you to breathe.

"Help! Help!" You scream out desperately as your heart twists and your stomach flips inside out. Your hands finally grip something you can't see, and you squeeze as hard as you can, not caring when you feel tingling in your knuckles. You pray to Hylia for safety as you clench your eyes shut.

You wake in Kakariko, in your bed, in Link's arms. You tense, prepared to scramble away from him, and burst into tears when you process that this is your Link. Your hero, your best friend, your crush, not the monster that-

You choke at the thought. Link gently brings you into a full embrace, one you desperately want to find comfort in, but all you can think about is how many times that's happened to him.

"D- Does it a- always hurt?" You choke. Link lets out an audible breath and holds you closer.

When he departs for the temple again, you want to beg him to stay. You want to cry to him and tell him everything eating at your brain. Instead, you insist he at least takes your remaining healing items. Two fairies and five potions. You made him pledge to give the bottles back when they were empty, those things took years to gather. All you can do now is wait and hope he makes it back safe and sound.

Read the next chapter here

[deathofacupid]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 .ᐟ ────────

⭑ 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 ⭑

⭑ 𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 ⭑

⭑ 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧 ⭑

⭑ 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐚 ⭑

⭑ 𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 ⭑

[imperial-refuse]

==> LOHKII: Double Down, Curses and All

The Refusian Heir sits alone in their room, arms crossed over his knees and bandaged tail around their legs. He buries his head into his arms as their back slumps away from the headboard he sat against on his mussed, unmade bed.

Scenes flash in their thinkpan, forcibly implanted by that gogawful weapon wielded by his fellow heir... His eyes, dry and unfocused, dart around, as though seeing everything vividly in front of him. And, he could. Whenever they were alone. When he was out exploring. Even in the midst of videos and reels they attempted to make, every now and again, he'd notice a stray comment or two on occasion...

"his eyes look haunted... what did that other guy DO to him??"

In a flash, he's back on Refuse. Standing in front of a familiar woodland hive. He is surrounded by drones. Looking up to find... himself, staring down from above, as they exit the ship alongside Vesper...

<{ What... why...? What is SHE doing here...? What the hell is this aboUt, Lohkii...?! |F

The words that exit his mouth are familiar, painfully so... but they aren't his own. He's set upon immediately. Their chest squeezes. Aches, incessantly so, as he's bound, the familiar mirror of himself unable to reply as he looks away, producing a familiar collar, with a familiar sign on it.

<{ No... no, what are yoU doing...?! Don't yoU fUcking DARE... LOHKII. LOHKII!? |F

Tears, warmer than he's used to, stream down his face, feeling himself shake and tear at the bonds as his mirror approached, contrary to his... no... Vyrgyl's screeches and terror-laced profanities. The deed is done. And Vesper cackles in glee as stabbing agony rips through his body for the first time, the acrid stench of burnt flesh accompanying a roar of... Rage...? Suffering...? Sadness...? Terror...?

He didn't know. But he would find himself next in a dark, familiar setting now, scene shifting.

The only light in the room was coming from his own body - Vyrgyl's body - as the device he was stuck within sapped his energy. It... hurt... more than he cared to admit. His flesh felt raw. It stung to move. The disgustingly moist masses of tendrils writhing and pulsing around his body. A repulsive, almost violating sensation to accompanying the pinching of suckers pulling upon his constantly bloodied arms and legs, siphoning the aura that poured outward, almost uncontrollably in his distress.

The door opens. His chest seizes. Eyes clenching shut. His lower gut writhes within him as he instinctively pulled back, the effort tearing at his arms and legs.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

<{ ...N-no... d-don't yoU FuCKING toUch me... I'll bite it off this time, I swear it-- |F

)=| please, vyrgyl darling, its me~~~ its okay~~~

His eyes snap open. Its this reflection again. Familiar horns curl back over his head, a tail trailing behind. His - Vyrgyl's - terror and revulsion mutates within him in real time into boiling, all-consuming vengeance, a snarl gurgling from what felt like the depths of his soul.

<{ ...YoU... what the fUck do yoU want? Come to fUcking gloat? DoUble down on that dUmbshit mentality of yoUrs...? Lemme gUess. YoU think we're still fUcking ANYTHING after all this... |F

)=| i know ur upset, darling, and i--

<{ uPSET?! |F

He throws himself toward the Memory-Lohkii, yelping as the machine's tendrils clamp down, slicing into him further to keep him bound. He's trembling now... in both pain, and bubbling, white-hot, pure, platonic hatred.

<{ ...this goes FAR beyond being "Upset" Satana... |F

Memory-Lohkii flinches at the growled use of their last name.

<{ ...I jUst didn't think yoU'd be sUch a little pansy-ass cowardly bitch that yoU'd jUst refUse to see what yoU've fUcking done by handing me over to that... that... |F

)=| i came here to talk, vyrgyl, not fling insults like petulant little pupa~~~

<{ Oh, so the little princeling thinks he's fUcking RESPONSIBLE now, is that it...? Taking the high road after deciding commUnication's oUt the fUcking window after a single gogdamn fight? |F

)=| dont u of all trolls fucking call me that, vyrgyl~ dont u start acting like~~~

<{ Like what, little monarch? Tell me. Tell me what a fUcking Uncontrollable, monstroUs beast yoU think me to be that yoU woUld lock me the fUck Up like a common barkbeast then jUst hand my gogdamn kennel to a dogfUcker. |F

)=| im warning u, vyrgyl~~~ shut ur fucking mouth or ill~~~

<{ Do it. FUcking do it. YoU've already rUined my life. YoU've taken EVERYTHING from me. I fUcking hate yoU. I hate yoUr stUpid, grotesque, overbloated highblood GuTS, and not in the way yoU probably WISH I did, yoU pathetic, LONELY little WHORE-- |F

The pain rips through his side in an instant. Memory-Lohkii's rapier pushes into Vyrgyl's side with a splatter of green. With a hiss of pain, he merely lets out a gurgled, mirthless chuckle, and a derisive, wild, searing fanged grin.

<{ ...JUst like a trUe heir, Lohkii. JUst like a trUe fUcking heir. |F

Memory-Lohkii's face flushes, brows knit and face scrunched in fury as they rip the weapon from Vyrgyl's - his - side, and rounding on their heels and storming toward the door.

And so the scene would change once more. And change once more. And again. And again.

Every single act of suffering that could ever lead back to him, Lohkii Satana, would play out in his mind from the perspective of their victims.

But... it... it COULDN'T. This... this couldn't be what they wanted... what they caused...

The sharpened nails digging, wildly into his back. Fetid breath on his neck. An anchor, piercing his shoulder, FORCING him to his knees. The terror and rage on the faces of two goldblooded psions as his collar lights up for the first time in over a sweep, and the subsequent terror and rage of a fierce battle, leading into a hand being ripped open through an act of self-sacrifice...

Every scene plays out on loop behind his eyes.

They couldn't keep thinking about it. If they did...

"...Your Idolization...? Your... Your dinner is ready, sire..."

Lohkii is snapped from their reverie. The pains and aches not his own fading back into those that WERE his own.

That's... that's right. It was just a curse. Magic WAS real after all... Vyrgyl had always proved that much...

No.

He dragged himself from their bed, a shaky smile pulling their pierced lip back as the officer who had entered his respite block glanced around the dimly lit room, clothing, cosplay and makeup supplies strewn about.

No. The only way out... had to be forward. He could... deal with the consequences later. For now... they had a mission ahead of him, and wounds to heal from.

)=| ...thank u darling~~~ ill leave a bonus for u to not speak of the state of my respite block if u please~

Lohkii had to get Vyrgyl back. For the limeblood's own sake.

[flowersandskeletons526]

"Put Your Gloves Up" - Warriors Concept Album fanfic (part 4/?)

Warning for violence on this one. It's on level with the rest of the fic and it's a short scene but harsh and might be triggering so reader discretion is advised. Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

---------

Rembrandt got better at fighting. She graduated from dodging and drills to sparring against Cowgirl. Cochise tried to have her spar against Swan at first, someone at least a little closer to her height, but Swan went so easy on her that Cochise claimed she wasn’t learning anything. Cowgirl went into their first match with a lot of shit talking until she couldn’t land a punch on Rembrandt and suddenly took it quite a bit more seriously. It gave Rembrandt an ego boost she hadn’t gotten since winning her first art competition in sixth grade. 

“How the fuck is this fair?” Cowgirl demanded after yet another round of not being able to make a solid hit. “I’m punching down at someone who doesn’t stop moving!”

“You gotta get faster,” Cochise said with a chuckle. “You’re telling me you’ve got the reflexes to survive subway surfing but you can’t catch Rembrandt?”

“She’s like a fucking hummingbird! I can barely see her!”

“Hey!” Rembrandt protested. 

“Cowgirl, don’t be a sore loser,” said Swan, wrapping her arms around Rembrandt’s shoulders from behind. 

“I’m not being a sore loser! Alright, you know what? Let’s go again.”

“In a minute,” said Cochise. “Why don’t you two go take a break?” 

“Fine,” Cowgirl grumbled. “You’re going down when we come back.”

Rembrandt stuck her tongue out at Cowgirl before she walked away. Swan and Cochise laughed, and Swan gave Rembrandt a little squeeze as they went to sit together. “You’re progressing fast,” she said, passing Rembrandt a water bottle. 

“I’ve been practicing,” Rembrandt said. 

It wasn’t a total lie but it wasn’t the full truth, either. Rembrandt had been practicing and doing drills at home, yes, but just as importantly, Ajax sent her tips after almost every lesson. She still talked to her at the gym in person when she could, when Swan had her back turned and she got the chance to swoop by and toss in a compliment or ask about her day. It was just easier to talk when Swan wasn’t around to try to fight her. 

They were simple things at first, short texts out of the blue:

Calm your breathing down.

Nice footwork.

You’re still worrying about your hands.

Then it became longer texts, longer conversations, the occasional phone call when Ajax was on break at work and Rembrandt could hear the sounds of the gym in the background. She’d never been one for hiding her phone from Swan - they’d known each other’s passwords since they were in middle school - but if Swan was next to her when Ajax texted, she angled her phone away and stifled her smile. 

Not that Swan usually noticed; lately she was preoccupied with her own private text conversation. Fox leaned over and caught sight of her phone one day when they were all at Cleon’s. 

“Is that the girl from the Bronx?” she asked. 

Swan jumped away from her. “Fox! Quit looking at my phone!”

Rembrandt laughed, leaning into Swan. “You’re still talking to her?”

“Sometimes,” Swan said noncommittally. “Not always.”

“Didn’t she threaten you the first time you two met?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s because we ran into each other when I was handling something for Cleon.”

“Do you normally go after girls who try to beat you up?” Fox teased.

“Oh my god, shut up!” 

“Good for you,” said Rembrandt. “She’s hot.”

“Thank you for the support, Rembrandt.”

“When do we get to meet her?”

“I haven’t even gotten the chance to see her in person in a few weeks. Wait until we’re actually a bit more serious and then we’ll see.” 

Rembrandt’s phone buzzed. Pulling it halfway out of her pocket, she saw Ajax’s name on the screen. She got up without a word and headed for the bathroom.

“Rem, where are you going?” Swan called.

“I’ll be back in a second!”

She locked the door behind her and sat on the edge of the tub to answer the call. “Hey,” she said quietly, keeping her voice low so Swan wouldn’t overhear. She was sure Ajax could hear the smile in her voice.

“Thought you weren’t gonna pick up for a second,” Ajax said on the other end.

“I’m at Cleon’s with Fox and Swan right now.”

“Where are you hiding so Swan doesn’t catch you talking to me?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

Ajax just laughed. “I didn’t see you at the gym today.”

“Oh, you’re looking for me now?”

“Is that a crime?” 

Rembrandt blushed, breaking out in a wide grin. “I don’t mind it.”

“Then yeah, maybe I am. Hey, Swan told you Cleon’s doing a bonfire thing down by the beach with everyone tonight, right?”

“Yeah, she told me.”

“Are you going?”

“I am, I’m just going to be a little late. I have to wait until my dad’s asleep to sneak out. Are you gonna be there?”

“Yeah. Cochise invited me. And don’t worry, I’m not gonna piss off Swan or anything. Not on purpose.” 

“I was gonna say, it seems like you piss her off by existing.”

“She doesn’t like me very much.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Ajax laughed again, quick and biting and bright. “Well, hey, I’ll see you there, then.”

“Yeah. See you.” 

Ajax hung up. Rembrandt stood in front of the mirror for a second, trying to will her blush away. It didn’t work, but then again, almost any interaction with Ajax seemed to leave her red in the face lately. Fuck, she hadn’t acted like this since her first crush. 

Nope! Forget that thought! This was not a crush. Nowhere close. She did not have a crush on the brawler who was apparently her best friend’s sworn enemy. Still, she couldn’t quite ignore the way her heart flipped at the thought of seeing Ajax again. Something was definitely wrong with her.

When she got home, her father was already unconscious on the couch, surrounded by beer cans and empty liquor bottles. He laid on his back, mouth hanging open and snoring loudly. Every few breaths he’d hiccup like he might start gagging. Rembrandt wondered for a second if she should turn him on his side but that might wake him up and all that would result in was a beating for her. 

If he choked, he choked. 

Sneaking out down the fire escape, she met Swan and Fox three blocks down and around the corner from her building, beneath the elevated train tracks. Swan greeted her with a tight hug and a light kiss on the top of her head. Fox put an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close. Together they walked down to the boardwalk and followed it to the end to a small secluded area of the beach, a spot where the cops never went for fear of being overpowered by the local tent city inhabitants. Cleon and anyone associated with her could pass through easily, however, because Cleon was a badass both in fighting and community outreach. She’d done more for the residents of Coney Island than the city had in decades.

Cleon and Cochise sat beside each other on a piece of driftwood, facing a small fire pit dug into the sand. Cochise had an open case of beer beside her and the first thing she did upon seeing the three girls was toss one each to Swan and Rembrandt. Fox got a can of coke despite her protests of being able to handle alcohol. 

Cleon gave Rembrandt a quick one-armed side hug. “Good to see you,” she said. “How are you feeling? You haven’t had any more trouble with those girls, right?”

“No,” said Rembrandt, “they haven’t even looked at me since that night.” 

“Good. You know if they do, you can always come to me to handle anything.”

“I know. Thank you, Cleon.”

“She’s getting to the point where she can handle herself,” Cochise said proudly. “Cowgirl can’t even catch her when they spar.”

“Where is Cowgirl, anyway?” asked Fox.

“She and Ajax are on their way.”

Rembrandt grabbed Swan’s hand and squeezed hard in warning before she said anything. The conversation quickly moved on, to Rembrandt’s relief, turning to questions of work and school and if Rembrandt was ready to graduate this year. Cochise shared that Fox was going to start taking fighting lessons from her after months of begging, even if it had to be at home instead of in the gym. Swan shared she’d started taking classes to get her GED. Fox and Rembrandt tackled her in a group hug upon hearing that news. 

Rembrandt watched Swan carefully through the night. She kept an easy smile on, in her element with friends, relaxing in a very rare moment for the normally stoic woman. It made Rembrandt happy, seeing her able to take a breath and lose a bit of the tension she carried day to day. 

At least until Cowgirl arrived with Ajax. 

Rembrandt felt only a little self-conscious of the way she stared as Ajax came to sit across from her at the fire. She’d only seen Ajax in work-out clothes up until then. Tonight, she wore shredded black jeans and a loose mesh shirt over a tank top. Her leather jacket was covered in spikes and sewn-on patches, silver chains clinking on her shoulders and belt loops as she walked. On her hands were leather fingerless gloves with metal studs like built-in brass knuckles that were probably less than legal. The whole color scheme of the outfit was blood red and pitch black. She looked like she’d just stepped off a punk music album cover, a thought that only made Rembrandt want to draw her that much more. 

“Nice of you two to finally join us,” Cochise said. 

Cowgirl rolled her eyes. “We were getting supplies.”

“What supplies?”

Ajax pulled a small bottle out of her inside jacket pocket and passed it to Cochise. “Gin.” 

“You have the most disgusting taste in drinks,” Cleon laughed. 

“It’s classic!”

“So is whiskey, but you choose to drink like a Victorian era factory worker instead!”

The night was far more lively with Ajax and Cowgirl finally having joined. Cowgirl brought an infectious extroverted energy to every situation she entered, and Ajax was such a large personality no matter what mood she was in. She was loud and brash and had a big smile and a bigger laugh and as hard as Rembrandt tried, she struggled to keep her eyes off her. Whenever there was a lull in the conversation, she’d meet Ajax’s gaze across the circle. Ajax smiled softly at her, her sharp features illuminated by the fire and cast in shifting shadows, her eyes glowing in the cold night. She lifted the gin bottle in a subtle toast. Rembrandt returned it. 

She wasn’t sure if Swan noticed that moment in particular or if she’d been noticing the discreet looks all night, but Swan took the opportunity to slip off her jacket and place it around Rembrandt’s shoulders. She put an arm around her waist, pulling her close against her side in a move that was decidedly more possessive than protective. Rembrandt thought it was kind of stupid; she had a coat of her own and could already see the goosebumps rising on Swan’s arms. 

Her chest tightened a bit as she leaned into Swan. She hadn’t pulled that kind of move since… never mind. Rembrandt wasn’t going to think about that. 

It was a good night. It was nice to be around the group, talking and laughing and not having to worry about anything. Cowgirl challenged her to a sparring match when her lessons got brought up only to be summarily humiliated when she failed yet again to land a hit. It earned a round of cheers for Rembrandt once Cowgirl finally admitted defeat. She felt strong enough to take on the whole city. 

She and Swan walked Fox home first before heading to her apartment. They stood in a hug beneath the fire escape for a long time, Swan’s jacket still wrapped around Rembrandt, swaying gently with each other. 

“You know you can come stay the night at Cleon’s if you want,” Swan mumbled. “You don’t have to go home.”

“I’ll be fine,” Rembrandt promised. “He was passed out when I got home. He won’t be awake.”

“Cleon’s got a bunch of meetings she wants me at tomorrow so I won’t be around. Are you and Fox going to be okay getting to school?”

“Yeah, we’ll be okay.”

“Alright. Night, Rem.”

“Night.” 

Rembrandt scaled the fire escape and slipped into her bedroom. She tossed her backpack in the corner, stumbling a bit from the few beers she’d had at the bonfire, prepared to simply collapse into bed and fall asleep.

Her door slammed open. She jumped and whirled around to see her father standing in the doorway, leaning heavily on the doorframe and dimly lit from the moonlight outside. 

“Where were you?” he slurred.

“O-Out,” Rembrandt stammered. “With friends.”

“With Maria?”

“No. Amelie.”

“You’ve been drinking. Taking after your old man, huh?”

“No, I wasn’t, I swear-”

“I didn’t give you permission to go out.”

“Dad-”

He raised his hand and swung. Rembrandt dodged on instinct, a new reflex that Cochise’s training had drilled into her. 

She should have just taken the hit. 

Her father grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall. His palm crushed her trachea, fingers digging painfully into the sides of her neck as he dragged her up onto her tiptoes. Rembrandt was fast and had gotten faster but he was always going to be bigger than her. He would always be stronger. Years and years and years of this abuse had proved that and this might finally be the night it killed her.

“Ungrateful little brat!” he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. “I put a roof over your head and clothes on your back and you still think you have the right to do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Dad, stop, please!” she choked out. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over before she could stop them.

“You know I could’ve given you up when your mother ran off. Could’ve tossed you out on the street with the rest of the shit she left behind.”

“Dad, I can’t breathe!”

He pulled her off the wall just to slam her against it again, her head cracking off the bricks. She saw stars but couldn’t tell if it was from the hit or the lack of oxygen. She grabbed at his arm, trying to pry his hand off her throat to no avail. His grip tightened and tightened until she couldn’t even gasp. 

He threw her to the floor just before she lost consciousness. She clutched at her throat, curling into a ball as she coughed and sucked in great lungfuls of air. He nudged her sharply with his foot, as if testing to see if she would get up and challenge him again. Like dodging a punch was a challenge. She didn’t try it. 

“The second you graduate and I don’t have those fucking truancy officers breathing down my neck,” he said frigidly, “you’re out of here.”

He left her on the floor, choking back sobs. She didn’t even have the strength to flinch when he slammed the bedroom door. 

The next morning, when she looked in the mirror, she found bruises on her neck in the shape of his fingers. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy, eyes still red from crying through the night. She could pass that off as being hungover. She found an old turtleneck that was maybe a size too small, the hems of the sleeves tattered and fraying, but it covered the bruises and that would have to do. She zipped her hoodie all the way up to make extra sure they were hidden. 

Fox didn’t notice the bruises at school, but she did notice the fact that Rembrandt had said less than ten words throughout the day. She stopped asking after the fifth interrogation when Rembrandt told her not-so-nicely to “just fucking drop it!” She regretted how harshly she said it afterwards, especially when she saw the wounded look in Fox’s eyes, but it got her to abandon the topic. 

Rembrandt forced herself to go to the gym after walking Fox home from school. She figured she could ask Cochise to just run drills with her for the day. That is, until Cochise told her she couldn’t train in a tight turtleneck and got a look at her neck after she changed. 

She pulled Rembrandt into the back office of the gym. “What the fuck are those?” she demanded, gesturing to the bruises. “Who did that?”

“Cochise, please,” Rembrandt begged. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Someone choked you! You know I’ve noticed the other bruises and I understand not wanting to talk about that but this isn’t something I can just ignore!”

“You’re not a mandated reporter.” 

“Has Swan seen this?”

“No. I haven’t seen her yet today.”

“She’s going to kill me if I don’t tell her about this. Cleon needs to know about this so she can do something.”

“Respectfully, Cleon doesn’t need to do shit. And I already know what Swan is going to say so I can deal with that when she sees them. Until then, I’ll get concealer.”

“You can’t use concealer on your entire neck!”

Rembrandt’s eyes stung with unshed tears. “Cochise, please just drop it!”

She seemed to take the hint. She reached for Rembrandt but quickly pulled back when she saw how the girl flinched away from her. Taking a deep breath, the soldier pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. 

“Alright. We won’t talk about it. Are you sure you even want to be here right now? I can bring you to Cleon’s and stay with you until she and Swan get home.”

“No, I’m fine. I just want to do drills today.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, kid.”

Rembrandt got looks from everyone in the gym. She tried to ignore it as best as she could, grateful for the way Cochise shot death glares at anyone who tried to approach them. Cochise had a point: Swan was going to lose it when she saw the bruises and she wasn’t quite sure how she was going to deal with that when she did. She just hoped it didn’t get brought up to Cleon. She’d seen the way Cleon handled cases like this before and knew there really was no way to avoid it when the legend decided someone needed to be dealt with. As much as Swan tried to keep Rembrandt out of it, she knew what the late night “errands” she ran for Cleon truly were. 

During a break, Cochise went to get her tylenol and an ice pack to help the aching bruises on her neck. She stood facing the wall, fiddling with the straps of her gloves, when a familiar shadow fell over her. 

“Hey,” Ajax mumbled. “By yourself today?”

“Swan has business to do with Cleon,” Rembrandt said curtly as Ajax leaned against the wall beside her. 

“I heard.” The brawler lowered her voice, leaning down and placing her mouth close to Rembrandt’s ear. “You’re eighteen, aren’t you?”

“That’s a little forward,” she deflected.

“Why don’t you leave? You wouldn’t be considered a runaway. Family services couldn’t do shit.”

She didn’t answer for a moment. She had a feeling that’s where this was going. “I can’t,” she whispered. 

“No way Cleon hasn’t offered you a spot at her place. No way Swan hasn’t.”

“I don’t have any documents. My dad keeps my ID, I have no idea where my birth certificate is, and I don’t know my social security number. I can’t get a job or apply for an apartment without that shit. I literally can’t leave.”

“Any idea where he might have them?”

“I don’t know. He keeps his bedroom locked.”

“Wanna break in?”

Rembrandt pulled back to face Ajax fully. “What?”

“Let me talk to Cochise real quick. I’ll pretend to be sick to get out of work early. Does he work? How long until he gets home?”

“He usually gets home around seven.”

“We’ll be quick.”