#tw prison camps

[rotzaprachim]

ok so something insane about andor’s storytelling is the way it works in neat closed loops, and also as a crescendoing spiral in which everything is reconnected to each other. something i noticed just now? arvel skeen, three-episode side motherfucker who gets promptly shot down by the narrative and has a whole almost episode space between him and cassian getting sentenced to narkina 5. because, well, we’ve seen someone who’s already been sentenced to two rounds of imperial prison camps, the kind that leave tattoos burned into your skin. (and yes, this sequence also emphasizes that cassian has been through the quasi-imperial prison system already for three years as a young teenager which is.... horrifying to think about.) 

(horrifying things to think about but anyway: the shape of the krayt prison tattoo resembles the whole shape of narkina 5) 

now, we don’t know too much about arvel skeen, but i think the show probably implies that he’s a survivor of the large scale imperial adult sentencing system from BEFORE P.O.R.D. changes everything into class-a offences, meaning, from when there were at least a few people who made it out alive. and he’s haunted. he’s so fucked, as a person, but so fucking haunted, and ebon moss bachrach does an incredible job with this, with playing a man who is just broken beyond belief. 

like, what DOES nemik’s ideas man manifesto mean to this man whose seen some of the most oppressive action of the empire? not only that, but the narkina 5 episodes emphasize the specific ways the empire runs the prisons by pitting prisoners against each other - for flavour in their soylent green, essentially. the prisoners in cassian’s work gang and even kino loy end up actively resisting this division again and again, which is ultimately a massive aspect of how they can band together to carry out an uprising. But would everyone face that situation in the same way? Arvel Skeen suggests not, also suggests that even those prisoners “let go” are still kept mentally from home in a million ways from the trauma of their experiernces. someone pointed out that the final rallying cries of episode 10′s rebellion, we leave together or not at all, we all climb for the light function as a direct response to skeen telling cassian we all climb over each other. 

so no, i don’t think the show is providing apologism for skeen’s actions. but i do think it’s impossible to look at this character without a more sincere and radical empathy considering everything that we now know about the context which created him. skeen, like everyone else, was already a dead man walking when he came on screen, but a disturbing ghost of cassian’s future, and an example of this show’s writing structure of intricate rings that seem unrelated but ultimately reconnect for broader thematic purpose. skeen seems like an unrelated character who goes down after three fucking episodes, but he’s also part of the crew that’s going to both set fire another log of the rebellion’s kindling (even if he was in it for nothing but the money) AND cause the sentence he survived to be a death sentence for everyone else. and in his own way skeen never was alive for the narrative, but a walking spector and a memorandum to ask the question that even if when people could go home from the prisons, anyone ever actually did.

[artharakka]

Beautiful, But Broken

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

Israel justifies its genocide of Palestinians based on “freeing the hostages” while they run concentration camps where they torture and rape Palestinian captives.

[guideaus]

im at this point where seeing people stan kamala harris now makes me so mad

[shes-some-other-where]

Rain and Apple Blossoms

[ID: a 9x9 square mood board. The images: a prison window with light streaming through, a desolate dusty quarry, barbed wire, apple blossoms, hands wrapped in chains, red apples, a river, falling rain, a cellar door. End ID.]

Written for The Merry Whump of May 2024

Now complete.

A nameless convict suffers in a prison camp, sentenced to years of hard labour for his crime. There, he is tormented by cruel guards and an even crueller chief overseer who seems to enjoy humiliating him. Eventually, he escapes, and he finds himself cared for by a kind stranger who is on her own journey of grief and self-discovery. With soldiers still hunting for the fugitive, every moment he spends in his unlikely caretaker's company is a risk to them both.

Heavier on whump than plot. Heavier on hurt than comfort. But it's all there.

Series of whumpy drabbles, 100 words each.

Read it here in the suggested reading order, or if you'd rather cherry-pick the prompts you like, it's in event order here.

[emonydeborah]

trektober day 14: historical AU/recruitment

Pikeuna wwii AU for historical AU day

———

"Take him to Number One." Chris swallowed. The tone in which the resistance fighter- Neera, one of the others had called her- spoke of their leader made him feel underdressed for the occasion. He could hardly be blamed for his appearance; it hadn’t been his choice to crash in the French countryside. Still, he surreptitiously tried to smooth his hair and wipe the mud off his face and he was led the through the dilapidated, bombed out apartment building. The ropes around his wrists didn’t help.

People cut off their conversations as he passed, pressing themselves against the wall and staring like they had never seen a man in uniform.

Probably not his uniform, Chris thought with regret. The Allies weren’t even close to liberating this area.

“In here.” Neera opened an apartment door and nodded for him to enter. Shabby wallpaper and cracked plaster flickered in lantern light, splashing monstrous shadows on the wall. Chris squinted in the low light.

Two women were hunched over a table, pointing at a map and speaking in tense voices. The shorter woman was facing the door, and when Chris entered she straightened.

“Commander.” She nodded towards Chris. The other woman straightened to her considerable height and turned.

Chris’s jaw dropped. “Una?”

She was paler and gaunter than when he had known her. Dressed all in black rather than the bright colors she used to favor, she looked more like a prison camp survivor than the leader of a resistance cell.

It occurred to Chris that she could be both.

“Chris?” Her face lit up, and it was the most beautiful sight Chris had seen in some time.

She took a step forward, arms half raised, but glanced around and stopped in her tracks. She cleared her throat.

“Give us a minute,” she said. The other woman at the table bristled, watching Chris with open suspicion.

“Commander, for your safety-”

“Now, La’an.” Una nodded to the guards still restraining Chris, and they let go with some reluctant mumbling. Neera dragged them out of the room, and with a click of her tongue La’an followed them out. She gave Chris a warning look, and held eye contact until she shut the door. Chris tried not to gulp.

Cold fingers on his wrist made him jump, and Una smirked. She pulled the rope off his wrists, and Chris didn’t even wait for feeling to return to his hands before he pulled her into his arms.

She was slower to hug him back than she used to be, but she held him just as tightly as she always did.

The kiss was natural and desperate, anything to convince him she was alive. She wasn’t as substantial as before, and he felt like no matter how tight he held her, she was seconds from slipping away through the cracks in the walls.

She broke the kiss and just held him, trembling.

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” Chris murmured into her hair.

“You thought I was dead?” Una pulled back just enough to look him in the face. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through his hair, and Chris took her hand and kissed it.

“I didn’t hear from you for months, and no one would give me any answers,” Chris said. “I didn’t know what to think.” Una stroked his cheek with her thumb.

“You didn’t think I just got bored of you?” she teased.

“Nope.” Chris couldn’t find it in him to make it a joke, but Una still smiled. She didn’t offer any answers, just leaned her forehead onto his with a sigh. “Una.”

“Hm.”

She didn’t want to talk about it. He hadn’t seen her in eighteen months and he knew she didn’t want questions. But his last thought before hitting the ground had been of her, and how he was going to see her soon.

Not like this, though he much preferred it this way.

“How did you end up here? What happened?”

Una sighed again. “I couldn’t stand by any more, Chris.”

“The Women’s Auxiliary-”

“I know, it was important work, but I felt so useless.” Despite his resistance, she peeled herself away and led him to the map. “Did you know I was born here?” She pointed to an obscure town a few miles from what Chris guessed was their position. “My parents moved us to America when I was seven, made me a proper American girl.” Chris wrapped an arm around her waist, unwilling to let her get too far. “I enlisted to fight for America, but the more I heard the rumors out of France the more I wanted to help.”

“You were helping,” Chris insisted. “You and the other auxiliary pilots-”

“It wasn’t enough!” Una burst. She broke away and rounded the table. “People are fighting and dying everyday here. Not soldiers, civilians, young and old, women and children- I had to do something.” She gripped the edges of the table, face reddening in her fervor. “I dropped off my plane but I didn’t go back to the states. I hitched a ride across the channel and made my way here and I didn’t look back.”

Not once did she look up into his eyes. Her gaze was locked on the little town, barely more than a dot on the map. Chris slowly made his way around the table and laid his hand over hers.

“That was really brave,” he said quietly. She let out a breath.

“I’ll try to arrange for you to get back to your men,” she said, businesslike. Chris’s eyebrows jumped up.

“Through that?” He gestured to the enemy strongholds, a thick barrier between him and any allies.

“We’ll get it done,” Una said firmly. “There’s a path, most of us know it.”

“Una.” Chris squeezed her hand. “Let me rephrase: I’m not leaving you.” He nodded at the map. “It’s not worth risking anyone to get me through there.”

“Chris-”

“I’m not losing you again.” Una knew better than to argue with that stubborn tone. Chris grinned. “You need a pilot?”

“Nope,” Una answered. “But I’m sure I could find a job for Captain Christopher Pike.”

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

My favorite extremely niche garashir fanfic trope is when people write "what Garak was doing in If Wishes Were Horses" fic and obviously Julian shows up but so does Tain at the same time. Like it makes perfect thematic sense that Garak's guilt and trauma show up to ruin his romantic/sexual daydreams! But also. god. the Freud of it all.

[silvershewolf247]

I hate in when horror goes for the cringe or gross out factor rather than genuinely create fear.

[bountydroid]

Darlin' pt 3

pt 1 / pt 2 /pt 4

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (Slowburn romance, we will get there eventually)

Description: Reader and the ghoul navigate their new, unconventional friendship on their way to Filly. 

TW: Mentions of emotional abuse and bad parenting, slight angst slight fluff, reader has no social skills.

After the ghoul defended me in town, I felt much more comfortable in his presence. I had a new vigor for the adventure in front of us. It was much more exciting than anything I would do on my own. After a couple of hours on the trail, I decided to try and talk to him. However, his demeanor hadn't changed much.

"My name is Y/n, by the way," I said nonchalantly while hiking next to him.

"Don't remember askin'." He responded, refusing to look at me. 

"Just thought you should know." I pouted at his cold response. "Since we are travelin' together and all that."

"Well, now I know." He said, finally looking over at me.

We made eye contact for a moment before he swiftly turned his gaze back to the trail ahead of us. 

"So...." I started. "You ain't gonna tell me your name."

"No." He sighed, obviously getting annoyed as he let out a small cough.

I bit my cheek as I buried my disappointment. "How far to Filly?" I asked quietly.

"About a day" He responded between coughs as he stopped and pulled out some Jet from his pack and added it to his inhaler. I watched, intrigued as he breathed it in deeply. His eyes slowly raked over my body like he was looking for a reaction, but I just gave him an awkward smile.

The two of us continued in silence. I wondered about what a ghoul's life was like. I never met a ghoul before him. How long does it take them to change? The Jet must help keep the side effects at bay. I wondered how long it helps for. What was his life like before he turned into a ghoul? I wished I could ask him, but if his reaction earlier was any indication, he wasn't interested in conversation. I was so lost in thought that I stopped paying attention to the world around me.

The next thing I knew I was squealing as I tripped over a rock and started to fall forward.

"God damn it." I heard him say as he swiftly caught me before I could faceplant into the dirt. He roughly pulled me up and helped me to my feet. 

My face burned with embarrassment. "Thank you," I mumbled out. 

He just scoffed in response before he started walking again. I followed close behind, pouting in silence. 

The rest of the day was quiet and uneventful, but as the day went on I started to get more and more agitated by his silence. Finally, we made camp.

As I gathered up the firewood and brought it back to camp I decided I had had enough. "I want to know your name," I said confidently, dropping the pile at his feet. 

"I want things too, you don't see me bitchin' about it." He mumbled back.

"You are going to be nicer to me, or I am going to leave," I demanded.

This caught his attention as his gaze quickly met mine. I could tell he was trying to gauge if I was serious or not. In all honestly, I wasn't, but I didn't want him to know that so I just stood there, unwavering. 

"You can try." He said menacingly, "But I ain't gonna let you." 

"So, what? I am just your prisoner now? You gonna keep me around till you get hungry?" I said, anger bubbling over in my chest. 

At this, he paused, a look of hurt flashed across his face. However, I was too caught up in my own emotions to notice it.

"Did I go from one man's prisoner to another's?" I asked.

Tears of frustration at his silence started to form in the corner of my eyes before I turned around, grabbed my bag, and stomped off. I didn't go far. I knew as soon as the sun came up I was going to go right back to following him around, so after about 10 minutes I sat up against a tree and let out a sigh. I knew I was acting childish, but in town, I genuinely thought I had made a friend in him. My father never let me have friends. I was forced to stay in the house and look after him and my brothers. I wasn't allowed to have a life of my own. I was naive to think that the ghoul would want to be my friend. As I started to drift off, I heard footsteps coming up behind me. I didn't bother looking because I knew it was him, coming to drag me back as promised.

"Cooper." He said, leaning against the other side of the tree.

"What?" I asked confused.

"My name, darlin'." He responded quietly.

We stayed there in silence for a couple of minutes before I spoke up.

"I was never going to leave," I admitted.

"I know." He said, letting out a small chuckle. "Now get your pretty ass back to camp."

I hummed quietly before grabbing my pack and getting up from the ground. I made my way to the other side of the tree so I could take a look at him. I could barely see him in the dark, but what I could see was eyes staring down at me. "Okay," I whispered.

-

The next day I woke up confused. There was no boot in my side, and Cooper was nowhere to be seen. "Cooper?" I said quietly. When I got no response. "COOPER?" I yelled into the forest. 

"Stop your hollering." I heard him say in the distance.

"Where did you go?" I asked breathlessly.

"Got myself some breakfast." He said nonchalantly as he held up a deformed rabbit while walking towards me.

"Why didn't you wake me? You always wake me." I asked, fear still evident across my face.

He was quiet for a moment before he responded quietly, "I was bein' nice." 

I stared at him in shock while he was trying to look anywhere but at my face. "Oh."

We sat around the fire in silence as he ate the rabbit, I tried not to watch because honestly? That rabbit looked disgusting. While I waited I picked up one of the sticks and drew some stick figures in the dirt. I tried my best to give one a cowboy hat, but I don't think Cooper noticed. Once he was finished we picked up our bags, stomped out the fire, and went on our way again.

After a couple more hours of silence, I decided to try to talk to him again.

"I think you have pretty eyes." I blurted out.

At this, he stopped in his tracks and stared at me like I grew another head. I started to get self-conscious as his gaze bore into me. He was a cocky man, by all means. However, it had been a LONG time since anything about him was considered pretty. 

I grimaced at his reaction "Sorry, I am not very good at conversation." I said sheepishly.

After a couple of minutes of silence, I decided to start walking in the general direction we were going earlier. I honestly had no idea where I was going, but I couldn't bear to stand there under his gaze any longer. After a minute, I could hear him trailing behind me and I felt the tension release from my body.

"No more compliments" I noted to myself.

We continued on in silence for some time before we could finally see Filly in the distance. My feet were raw and blistered from all the walking, so to finally see our destination was a welcome sight. 

I looked back at the ghoul and smiled, "We made it!" 

Much to my surprise, he had a matching smile on his face. I turned back around to Filly, excited to explore. I could feel his eyes on me as I skipped into town, stopping to look at all the stalls on my way past.

"So now what?" I asked, turning to face him.

"Now we wait, Darlin'." He chuckled in response. 

The idea of being there when he caught his bounty filled me with excitement. This was nothing like what I assumed my life would become when I ran away.

tag list: @msrawog @valdemarismynonbinarylove @topiramateagreeable

[newsfrom-theworld]

List of campaing/ resources for countries in need

Hi folks! This is a list with resources, go found me campaing, history lessons and posts in general about countries in need. I need everyone to repost and check this, this is my most important post.

When I found new resources I will update the post

Sudan

What's happening in Sudan

Understanding the war in Sudan

What Sudanese people are enduring

Four things about the Sudan war

Why the Sudanese people don't document their genocide?

Children soldiers during the war

Boycott the UAE

Why Sudan is a proxy war and not a civil one

The 5th of June Massacre

The 3rd of June massacre during the 2018-19 revolution

Sudanese refugees in Ethiopia

Starvation in Sudan 1

Starvation in Sudan 2

Starvation is Sudan 3

Sudan, a crisis in the millions

Contact your representatives for Sudan

List of go found me campaigns

Sudanese-led causes to donate to

List of accounts to follow about the issue in Sudan (people on the ground etc)

Why Keep Eyes on Sudan ?

The role of Antiblackness in the coverage about Sudan

Sudanese refugees crisis

The polio epidemic in Sudan

Sudan's identity crisis

Palestine ( Gaza)

Boycott list

Why people are boycotting Starbucks

Palestinian prisoners

Violence against Palestinian female prisoners

Inside ''Israeli'' prisons

List of Go found me campaigns (on Tumblr) DONATE

more go found me (there are some for Sudan too) DONATE

Go founds me for autistic Palestinians who need our help DONATE

Palestinian go found mes on Tik Tok DONATE

LIFE FOR GAZA CAMPAIGN DONATE

Bisan's blockout 2024 list

Why don't trust Western media on the issue 1

Why don't trust Western media on the issue 2

''Israeli'' soldiers being ''Israeli'' soldiers TW: NOT FOR THE WEAK

Child abduction in Palestine

Help a brave doctor rebuild his clinic DONATE

The tale of the village Al Qarya al-Suwaydiya

Petition to ban ''Israel from the Olympics

Sde Teiman concentration camp

Isr@elis being Isr@elis

The polio epidemic in Gaza

The siege on Gaza

Yemen

What's happening in Yemen?

List of Go found me campaings

Haiti

What's appening in Haiti?

List of go found me campaings

Congo

What's happening in DRC?

A history lesson about Congo

List of go found me campaings

Five things you have to know about Congo

Why Congo is a feminist issue

A survivor's tell from Congo

Lebanon

What is happening in Lebanon?

List of campaings for the civilians

Zionists espressing themself

How the zionist entity is manufacturing consent to invade Lebanon.

Puerto Rico

What's happening in Puerto Rico?

List of go found me campaings

Puerto Ricans and Gaza

Tigray

What's happening in Tigray?

Ecocide in Tigray

Health crisis in Tigray

West Papua

What's happening in West Papua?

Boycott Indonesia

Uyghurs

Why China is accused of commiting genocide?

Hawai'i

What's happening in Hawai'i?

History lesson: before the colonization

History lesson: the us coup

campaings to help Hawai'i

Bangladesh

What is happening in Bangladesh?

police violence in Bangladesh

Venezuela

What is happening in Venezuela?

Pakistan

The women of Pakistan

[applesauce42069]

With people like Candace Owens spreading misinformation about medical experiments at Auschwitz, it is important to be literate in this aspect of Holocaust history.

TW below the cut for: medical experimentation and malpractice, forced sterilization, antisemitism, anti-roma and sinti racism, discussion of concentration camps and the Holocaust. I will not include any photos. My source for everything is this book, published by the Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum.

There were more Nazi "doctors" at Auschwitz than I will be able to cover in this post. It is important to note that these "doctors" did not just perform experiments, but they also played a direct role in the genocide of the Jews at Auschwitz by participating in "selections." During these "selections," prisoners or prospective prisoners were chosen to be sent to the gas chambers. I say prospective prisoners because a selection usually took place at arrival upon the camp, with most children, the elderly, and anyone unfit for work, or for some people,just because, were sent immediately to the gas chambers without even being registered in the camp. This is a process that is unique to Auschwitz-Birkenau.

Josef Mengele is by far the most famous SS "doctor" at Auschwitz. He was the head physician of the sector of Auschwitz II - Birkenau which held Roma and Sinti families, before the camp was "liquidated" which mean that every man, woman and child in it were sent to the gas chambers. Mengele performed experiments related to twins, people with dwarfism, and a disease called noma (don't look it up its gross).

Lorenc Andreas Menasche and his twin sister were experimented on by Josef Mengele. Menasche testified about undergoing experimentation with his sister:

"They also gave us injections all over our bodies. As a result of these injections, my sister fell ill. Her neck swelled up as a result of a severe infection. They sent her to the hospital and operated on her without anesthetic in primitive conditions"

Elzbieta Piekut-Warszawska, an Auschwitz prisoner forced to assist with Mengele's experiments, describes experiments on Jewish twins:

"Drops were also put into their eyes. I did not see the procedure itself, since they took the children into the next room. Some pairs of children received drops in both eyes, and others only in one. I was ordered to observed the reactions, and not to intervene in any way in case of any changes... The results of these practices were very painful for the victims. They suffered from severe swelling of the eyelids, a burning sensation, and intense watering of hte eyes"

Dr. Miklos Nyiszli, a Hungarian Jew, was also forced to assist Dr. Mengele. He describes being forced to perform autopsies on a pair of "small twins" who:

"... died [were killed] simultaneously... Their death makes it possible to carry out autopsies on them, intended to solve the mystery of reproduction."

Nyiszli says that Mengele was interested in twins with the aim of "increas[ing] the birth rate of the 'higher race'"

At the same time, two separate "doctors," Carl Clauberg and Horst Schumann, were performing sterilization experiments on Jewish prisoners in order to find an effective method of mass sterilization.

Clauberg's experiments involved introducing chemicals into the reproductive organs of Jewish women. Alina Białostocka, an Auschwitz prisoner who was forced to assist Clauberg testified that

"[the] procedure was carried out brutally, and often caused complications"

When it "worked," the procedure left women forcibly sterilized for life.

Horst Schumann's experiments involved the use of x-ray on male and female genitalia. According to Felicja Pleszowska, an Auschwitz prisoner forced to assist with experiments, Schumann's experiments were

"very painful and dangerous to life. There were frequent cases of men dying immediately after such procedures"

From the combined victims of these two men, only very few individuals survived.

Eduard Wirths, Friedrich Entress, Helmuth Vetter, Fritz Klein, Werner Rhode, Hans Wilhem Konig, Victor Capesius and Bruno Weber all tested pharmaceuticals on Auschwitz prisoners on behalf of companies like Bayer (which still exist and operate).

I cannot stress enough the mortality rate of all the medical experiments that took place in Auschwitz. I cannot stress enough the harm done to those who survived. I cannot stress enough the fact that the information I have provided here is just the tip of the iceberg, and that these experiments were VERY well documented BY THE NAZIS THEMSELVES.

This is horrifying. This is real. And we cannot let people insult the memory of these horrors by manipulating historical fact for selfish gain.

[mysticheathenn]

Messages From Your Mental Prison

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is about your mental health and the state of how you view the world and everything that is going on in your life. This could be about your depression, Anxiety, or even suicidal thoughts. Read with caution as this reading may have triggers.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

MasterList

Patreon Link

TW Ahead Read With Caution

Pile l:

Messages From Your Mental Prison. Tarot: 8 of Pentacles (Reversed), 9 of Swords, 4 of Swords (reversed), 10 of Cups (reversed), Justice

This reminds me of the TikTok clip of the voice screaming "It's not fair. It's not fair." reminding me of how many people have probably told you that you handle stress and everyday life so well but little do they know your mental state is literally one inconvenience away from having a mental breakdown. Stress and anxiety practically camp out in your mind on a daily basis pile l. You can't seem to escape it, it's all you have known for quite a while and you're tired. There is a saying that "There is no sleep for the wicked" Well in your case "There is no sleep for the poor or those who lack the resources to pull themselves up in their life." All you want in life is enough to pay your bills and a little extra for savings and be able to do something with your life like try a new hobby without feeling guilty for spending money that isn't on "important" things like survival. You probably have been in survival mode for quite some time now and wondering when will you see a breakthrough. You're tired of being tired. You're tired of practically playing Russian roulette with your bills of which one can you not pay for this month. One thing I will say pile l is even though things may seem bleak please don't give up, I sense things will get better financially for you. Sometimes in life you just need to find your footing for things to take off.

Extra Messages: Tea Tree Leaf Oracle: Seek out information that will help you out, A Journey either physical or mental, unsettled times. Need to plan ahead, Announcement, Get back to the basics.

Pile l your extra message oracles make me believe that you feel lost, maybe even stuck for some of you with no clue in the world of how to better your situation or go about life. You have the get back to the basics card which sticks out to me like a sore thumb letting the game know that I sense you may be the type who always tries to do those get-rich-and-quick schemes like drop shipping or anything else you see that pops up on your social media feed and it never works out for whatever reason. You want to know why....it's because you aren't supposed to be doing that. That's not your path to riches. You have the 8 of Pentacles and 10 of Cups card but it's reversed meaning you are meant to have emotional and financial fulfillment you just need to stop and get back to the basics. What basics mystic? What is it that has been drawing or calling you in? What is something you keep putting off or not doing because you believe based on society and family it won't make you any money? For most of you, this is what you need to be doing. For others of you, you will be going on a journey where you need to find this out. Figure out what feeds your soul that you would do for free and do that but add tax. You are meant to freelance and be your own boss, not working for other people. Overall this is a journey process for you pile l. You will deal with more hard times as you figure this out but remember this journey is temporary to where you want to be, so keep pushing. An answer if it hasn't already will come to you.

Pile ll:

Messages From Your Mental Prison. Tarot: The Hermit, Page of Swords (reversed), Queen of Cups, 10 of Wands, 10 of Swords (reversed)

When was the last time you nurtured yourself or spent time alone and really tried to heal and nurture yourself with positive thoughts pile ll. It's a never-ending cycle of you constantly bombarding yourself with cruel words that aren't true. This reminds me slightly of the reading I posted titled Mystery pt. ll. But overall this feeling of yours feels more so as if the world has its weight on your shoulders and you feel as if you are a burden to those around you. You may live at home, with roommates, or feel that you constantly are asking anyone and everyone around you for help as if you can't do anything for yourself and you're tired. You're ready to be able to be independent without having to rely on others. Maybe others have made you feel bad as well for asking for help when you are down on your luck to where you just feel crushed, stuck, unable to move in a direction because one way people will make you feel bad for your predicament and the other hand you will make yourself feel bad because you feel whatever this is you should be able to do by yourself but can't because life is tough right now. As I mentioned in pile l you need to get back to the basics. Get back to the basics of life and take things one step at a time. You are doing the best you can with what you have and don't let anyone make you feel bad about that.

Extra Messages: Tea Tree Leaf Oracle: Position of authority, August, Someone you know is undependable and insincere, Slowly but surely getting ahead. Pay attention to your work, Good Fortune.

As mentioned your life while it maybe chaotic at the moment everything is a journey and slowly but surely things will get better and you will get ahead eventually. With the Position of authority I am seeing this in two ways some of you should pay attention to your work as there may be a position available for you in management where you can make more money this may happen around or sometime in August. If not within the company you work maybe this is an invitation to be your own boss or look elsewhere for higher positions especially if you have more than enough qualifications. For others of you, this position of authority is letting you know that you are the boss of your own life and have complete control of what goes on and who is in it. Never let people who claim to be friends or family make you feel bad for being on hard times. They aren't who they say they are and you should move accordingly with that information. Overall Good Fortune is in your cards by the end of this rough patch. You just need to focus and hone in on ways you can do more within your life with the resources of which you have. Again this could be moving up in the company or going elsewhere, where advancement is an option.

Pile lll:

Messages From Your Mental Prison. Tarot: The Star, The Sun, Ace of Pentacles (reversed), The Fool (reversed), Awakening

Pile lll, my babies, it's time to allow yourself to be seen by the world. It's time to stop hiding in the shadows allowing life to pass you by. You can't keep yourself in the mental prison of feelings of imposter syndrome, fear of judgment, etc. Life wants to give you financial blessings, especially with the Ace of Pentacles in Reversed but you are blocking them because you aren't doing what needs to be done. This could be you starting a YouTube channel, being a content creator on social media, writing a book or screenplay/ maybe even fanfiction for some of you, others this might just be you hiding from a promotion that you deeply desire but feel you lack experience, knowledge, etc. Whatever this is for you, you have to release the thoughts that plague your mind and go for the thing that puts you in front of everyone. Yes at first you may make mistakes or look cringe or whatever the issue may be but that's how everything is when you first jump deep into something. You make mistakes and people will talk...but you want to know something life moves on and the world doesn't end. Seriously do the thing, it's time. You will beat yourself up if others take the things that you want for yourself and you want to know something you have no one to blame but yourself because you decided to not do what needs to be done. Write the book. Film yourself. Apply for better jobs even if you think you are not qualified. Have you heard of the girl who applied to jobs she had no business doing and ended up getting hired making $100k a year...that could be you right now but you are stuck listening to self-doubt and the thoughts of what others will say. Storytime: I knew that I didn't want to continue working at whatever job I was working at back in 2015 so when my friend and I figured out that employers don't check a lot of your information we applied for positions that would pay us well and you want to know something the resume I lied on got me so far in life to where I was Assistant GM of hotels at one point. All because I believed I could do what others were doing in the hotel industry even without a lick of experience. Did I mess up in the beginning, yes. Did I care...no because I was doing more good than harm so no one really questioned if I lied or not. You have to take the jump. Do the thing.

Extra Messages: Tea Tree Leaf Oracle: Short Journey, Back to Basics, Work achievement & success, TIME TO ACT, Someone is extremely stubborn and unwilling to change, Protected from negative forces beyond your control, Solid foundation success with effort, waiting for news package or letter, A meeting with a strange could be important.

Pile lll do you see the amount of synchronicities in your oracle reading. Spirit is coming through loud and clear that you need to get out of your stubbornness and began acting on your dreams, goals, and desires. You are protected from anything that could try and take what this is away from you. Even with a solid foundation success with effort is telling you "Hey if you do the thing you will not fail because you are protected." Now this goes without saying that you won't deal with some challenges because that's life what it is saying is you will come out on top and the journey for you won't be a long one if you just do the effort that it takes. Spirit will do the rest if you just do what needs to be done.

Pile lV:

Messages From Your Mental Prison. Tarot: The Empress, Queen of Pentacles, 5 of Swords (reversed), 8 of Swords (reversed), 6 of Wands

You are victorious pile lV your only problem is that you don't believe you are worth a pot to piss in a lot of the time. Even with the Empress and Queen of Pentacles card here letting me know how nurturing, giving, empathetic, and even resourceful you are you don't see any good things about yourself. You remind me of people who speak negatively about themselves not knowing that their actions speak the opposite. You can't say you don't care but your actions speak another language. You can't put yourself down but then be upset when life mirrors your thoughts. Deep down you know how amazing you are and the many great things that you can do, but for some strange reason you recently for some of you while others of you this has been going on for a while where you constantly hold yourself to such a low standard and critic everything that you do. Why is that? Where did it begin? How can you remove this person or thing that made you feel this way? For some of you, this may have been a relationship (platonic, romantic, or familial) that made you feel self-critical of yourself because they felt something about themselves. You must remember that when people speak unkind things to you that it's a reflection of themselves and not you. You don't have to take what others think of you and run with it as if they are true because they are not. A scene that comes to mind is when the mom in Black Swan says "What happened to my little girl?" What happened to you that made you feel and think these thoughts to yourself and how can you get back to the Empress and Queen of Pentacle energy.

Extra Messages: Manifestation Oracle Cards: Wellbeing, Empowerment, Strength

How can you today give yourself the love that you deserve? Is it a DIY spa day? A trip to a therapist or talk with a trusted friend? How can you show up for yourself in ways that you haven't before that will make you see the person you are? Have the strength and courage to stand up to anyone who makes you feel any less than what and who you are. For a few of you, you may be a part of the LBGTQ+ community and others around you have made you feel different, a "freak" or whatever insecurity that you question your existence. There is a quote by Elenor Roosevelt that says "No one can make you feel inferior without your permission." Please don't let assholes who were raised by baboons let you lower yourself or feel anything less than amazing, beautiful, and authentically you. Regardless of how you feel about yourself find something in your life, day, or something as small as a freckle on your face that you love and keep bringing more of that energy in for you and keep your head up. This feeling is only temporary, things will get better.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

[cultofdixon]

Haunted by what is forever told on our skin

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • When the group found the prison, no one expected the past to come and haunt us all even if they don’t understand until life is re-written • ANGST/SFW • TW: PTSD / Past Abuse / Domestic Violence / Scars / Injuries / Past Attempt Mentioned / SH Scars

Requested by: Anon

“We found a place that we can make into our new home” Rick started. “We obviously need to fix a few things for the immediate future. But it’s got good walls”

“What is it?”

“It’s a prison, which I know sounds unsettling at first but once we take care of the walkers…it’s pretty golden” Rick finished and went to check on his family while the others started to pack up the vehicles knowing they will be leaving once he’s ready.

Daryl noticed Y/N stand still for a really long time for unknown reasons that started to concern him. But when she noticed him looking at her, she quickly picked up her pack and went to join Glenn and Maggie.

Odd…

They weren’t going to tackle the main prison just yet given the time of day. All they did was take out the walkers in the yard and get their cars within the gates before making camp for the night.

Y/N watched Carol go over to Daryl to give him what accounts for dinner with what they’ve got before turning her attention back toward the prison. This time catching the attention of someone more curious and willing to speak up.

“Have you been here before?” Beth questions Y/N, snapping her out of her thoughts as she gave her a concerned look.

“Like what, a prisoner?”

“No, just. Well yes and no”

“Not as a prisoner…more like. Visiting…loved ones…” Y/N frowns squeezing her hands together to avoid an anxious harmful habit that she knew she wouldn’t be able to do in front of them anyway.

“You think we killed them?” Glenn suddenly blurts as Maggie smacks him in the arm. “What? You’re telling me people survived the outbreak in that prison?”

“Don’t mean you have to ask somethin’ like that when you don’t know the rel—-“

“I haven’t…seen him in years. He could’ve been released or…executed for all I know. Only have seen him twice and the second time wasn’t…pretty” Y/N got up from the group, going to take a walk and clear her head on the matter. All while Maggie lectured Glenn about pushing boundaries.

When Daryl came back to the group with Carol, he noticed her absence immediately but as he scanned the surrounding area for her…he watches Rick make his way over to her given he hasn’t stopped walking the perimeter since they’ve gotten inside.

Y/N stared at a walker gnawing at the fence from the other end trying to reach for her. She stepped closer to the fence rolling her sleeve up and testing fate when the voice in her head told her to stop, as well as the voice behind her.

“What’s wrong” Rick asked with a concern look on his face when she turned toward him. With the light from his flashlight he noticed the scars that littered her arms making her instantly cover them. He knows as a cop not to trigger the situation further, even if most cops tend to do that anyway. But he’s not like most. “You want to scout with me? Don’t have to be in the mess of people for a moment”

“Mess of people?” Y/N laughs slightly. “You know you’re including your wife and son in that mix”

“I do…” Rick frowns, now walking with Y/N around the place. “Honestly we’ve all done something stupid and yet I’m paying for it the most given the silence I’m receiving from Lori”

“…You know, don’t you?”

Rick didn’t utter another word but gave her a look that confirmed it all.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner”

“Well, I still don’t know you. Not a stranger. But still not enough to share something like that” Rick shrugs. “I’m not mad at you”

“Right…still. I feel bad. No one should have to deal with that. End of the world or before”

Something about what she said only drew the concern to a higher level. Rick gestured with his head to return to the rest of the group and as he went to sit with his family, Y/N went to sit alone outside of the group facing away from them. The only time she was addressed was when T-Dog dragged a blanket over her shoulders, the flinch that came from her caught Daryl’s attention even more.

When the morning came, which meant time to progress inside the prison grounds…they were careful taking out the walkers in the courtyard before taking the risk of entering the building. Rick, Daryl, T-Dog, Maggie, and Y/N took care of being the first to sweep the cellblock they entered. Taking out the few walkers they came across, including seeing a few prisoners that have met their fate to the undead or found a quick way out of the mess before they met that end.

Y/N lingered too close to a locked cell on the second story not seeing anything immediately until the walker forced itself against the bars causing her to stumble back.

Rick quickly came over taking the walker out as Daryl brought himself to her checking her person.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Uh…yeah” Y/N frowns stepping past him returning to the first floor to help Maggie in any way.

The group started to make home of the cell block for now and will progress further into the place in a bit. Just for now they were taking a break. While others claimed cells as their new “rooms”, Daryl took the catwalk not liking the idea of living in a cell and he wasn’t the only one to think such.

“Need help?” Glenn asks Y/N if she needed a hand pulling the mattress out of the cell and into the main walk way on the first floor.

“Oh uh. Yeah sure” She frowns letting Glenn help her move the mattress and before he left, he quickly grabbed one of their many blankets handing it to her. “Thanks…”

“Of course” Glenn smiles leaving to check on Maggie and her family.

Daryl leans against the railing watching Y/N sit on the mattress bringing her knees to her chest and hide her face. Her whole body tensed and hasn’t relaxed since they’ve entered the prison.

The group hasn’t relaxed like this since the farm and they were getting used to the temporary quiet.

The next morning a few took inventory of the gear they’ve found in the prison, then came to the decision of checking the rest of the prison. The men plus Maggie and Y/N. Daryl took lead while the rest followed through the darker parts of the prison.

Maggie getting spooked by Glenn after he marked the direction they came from only stressed the others and Y/N did her best not to scream as a trigger response to hers.

Then it became a game with the walkers coming from every direction, even where they came from. Resulting in being separated from Maggie and Glenn. But when Hershel retraced his steps, he unfortunately gotten bit. A bit of scrambling resulted in T-Dog and Y/N holding the doors to their only entrance and exit while the others held down Hershel so that Rick can cut off the infected part of his leg.

But it wasn’t long for them to realize they weren’t alone.

Y/N felt as if she was struck down with the realization that she recognized one of the prisoners that Daryl and T-Dog were currently holding their stand with.

“We gotta go!” Rick shouted resulting in Y/N pulling away from the door ignoring who she had just saw and helped Glenn with holding the makeshift gurney to get Hershel on.

Everything seem to escalate while a good chuck of their own focused on Hershel then Daryl took liberty with T-Dog to keep the prisoners in check until Rick came to break the news about the reality the prisoners are now living in.

It wasn’t until they stepped outside to see for themselves when Tomas, the one with the gun, turned to the three with one question that led to a million internal ones.

“The woman with yea, where the hell you find her?”

T-Dog gave Daryl a questioning look as to who he’s referring to. Maggie or Y/N. Because they were the only women they saw.

“Who are you talking about?” Rick questions keeping his hand hovered over his gun. Tomas took note of such and decided to drop it.

Meanwhile inside the prison the chaos died slightly, all they could really do is keep an eye on Hershel and check his dressings. Y/N stood by the cell with Glenn to keep an eye on him in case you know what happens, orders by Rick of course. Glenn couldn’t help but get more anxious just from being in Y/N’s vicinity.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers to avoid alerting the rest. “Do you think he’s—-“

“It’s not about Hershel. Don’t…worry about it”

“How can I not when we just learned we’re not alone in here? What do you think the prisoners have done to get in this place?”

Y/N clenched her fists trying to fight back the anxiety induced tears or more so the PTSD she’s trying to avoid reliving but the sheer knowledge alone of him alive was driving her insane. Carol from the corner of her eye couldn’t help but have concerns for her because she understands.

________

“It’s…not the best, Sophia. But at least we’ll be safe until he calms down…” Carol reassures her daughter as they were directed into a room they were gonna have to share given how many people the facility has in that moment.

The woman on the other side of the room hugging her knees to her chest avoiding looking at them when they entered. She had just arrived there for the first time and wasn’t used to how many people. Granted the amount of people only made her feel worse that so many in her shoes need to find this escape instead of leaving the relationship they were in.

“Hello” Carol started, letting Sophia get comfortable on the bed as she hesitantly approaches. “I’m Carol. This is Sophia, my daughter” she frowns watching tears roll off her cheeks. “I guess we’ll be roommates for a while. We won’t make a fuss—-“

“You’ve been here before…the way you’re talking…you’ve been here before”

“Unfortunately” Carol frowns watching the woman finally face her to notice the swollen black eye and her wrist in a cast. “You’re new aren’t you?”

“…Unfortunately” She scoffs. “I should’ve known…sooner…before the cops got involved”

Carol brought herself to sit on the bed with her giving her a look asking for permission to rest a reassuring hand on her knee which she granted.

“We like to believe that they will get better. Some just. Go too far and need the intervention…”

The woman frowns only nodding to her words as she held herself close again feeling her hand slip away.

“Do you have a name?”

“It’s—-“

________

“Y/N” Carol frowns finally having a moment away from the mess, being handed a towel from her because of the blood all over her person. “Y/N are you alright?” She whispers to keep this conversation between themselves but all Y/N could do was show discomfort in her expression and try not to let the tears fall.

“We can’t let them stay here. They aren’t good people. He’s not a good person” Y/N wanted to let go but they were soon interrupted by Rick.

“Y/N I need your assistance with clearing a cellblock for the prisoners”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Carol questioned immediately and for her.

“We’ll kill them if they go too far but for now. We made the deal so we can get half of their supplies. We need to hold a front for a short while longer or until they’ve proven—-“

“Rick” T-Dog calls for him outside their block as he nods indicating they’re on their way.

“I’m sorry. I need Y/N. Glenn is watching Hershel and Maggie is out of commission for now. I need a good fighter and she’s one of them” Rick states, taking Y/N’s arm only for her to shove him off before walking toward T-Dog. The smallest action made Carol smack him in the harm.

“You push her and you won’t hear the end of it” Carol threatened before returning to Hershel’s aid as that left more suspicion with Rick.

When they started to go over the plan with the prisoners, Tomas instantly locked onto Y/N who made herself known finally.

“Baby—You’re alive” Tomas declared about to make his way over to Y/N when Rick stopped him. Daryl instantly looked at her as the tension and anxiety from her all made sense when they arrived. “What? There’s no prison laws anymore. I don’t have to wait for visiting hours to see my girl”

“She’s here to help. Not rekindle anything from the before” Rick stated pushing him back as that only angered the man but before he could even retaliate, Y/N quickly pulled Rick back blocking the way resulting in hesitation from Tomas.

“Just listen to him Tomas” Y/N struggled to keep a steady speech but the way he relaxed and nodded. This was only going to put her in a position that Rick will hate himself for later. Hell, the hate will come from more than him.

As Y/N steps back she felt Daryl’s gently tap her arm indicating for her to stand with him. Which she did. Tomas had her attention all on her while Rick explained how they are going to handle the walkers.

As the group watched the prisoners take out a handful of walkers in their own creative way. Daryl turned to Y/N watching her struggle to get a deep breath in given being in the same room as the man who hurt her was only making her suffocate.

“Hey…take a breath. C’mon” Daryl whispers keeping his attention on her, lifting his hand and lowering it then repeating to show he’s trying to get her to follow the breathing pattern. “There. You’ve got it…I’ve gotcha”

When they were alone in a room for a more controlled way of taking out the walkers, Tomas brought himself close to Y/N but enough for her to hear him given Daryl was hovering.

“Miss me?” He smirks watching her step away. “Aww come on baby. I’ve been good. I was going to get out in good behavior if the world didn’t end”

“Oh yeah, which guard did you bribe into helping—-ow!” Oscar snapped as Tomas smacked him in the arm.

“I have a restraining order. You wouldn’t—-“

“Baby girl. You’re right here. Right now. It’s the end of the world and the laws don’t apply—-“

“Focus” Rick snaps and then one of the prisoners got scratched right when the wave calmed down.

The other prisoners were trying to argue in saving their friend but right as the arguing got to a point, Tomas suddenly took the crowbar he had to killed the prisoner. The action put Y/N in a frozen state of mind as she tried to get herself out of there but she wasn’t moving. Then when Tomas decided to put all his anger toward the prisoner when he really wanted it toward another, Daryl forced Y/N to look away but she wouldn’t move so he blocked her view.

“You see the look on his face?” Daryl asked Rick as they hung in the back covering Y/N from Tomas who was in front of them.

“He makes one move…”

“Just give me a signal” Daryl stated as they all entered the laundry room from the looks of it.

One door.

One door was what Rick told Tomas to open.

…

Everything just has to go to shit huh?

Tomas tossed the walker at Rick directly and while he did and the others took care of the rest. He instantly went for Y/N. He heard the two of them talking and it doesn’t take a genius to understand that one wrong move and he’ll get killed in the process.

“No—No no” Y/N instantly thrashed against his grip only for Tomas to pull her into him wrapping his arm around her front but have his hand on her throat. “Please——“

“I tried to be buddy buddy for this pig bastard. But I know the only reason I’m in here in the first place is because of you” Tomas whispered angrily, tightening his hand around her throat.

“Let go of her” Daryl snapped readying his crossbow but before he fired, Rick stopped him as the gun Tomas had pressed itself against her throat.

“Lower it or I won’t hesitate” Tomas threats putting his finger on the trigger as Y/N couldn’t help the tears in that moment. “I know you’re just going to kill us the second you have a chance because of what we were in the past—“

“Right now you’re just provin’ you haven’t changed” Rick stated keeping his attention on Tomas as well as Daryl but he also took note of how Y/N was doing and by her body language, she wants this to be over. “The fuck do you want in order to let her go unscathed…mostly” he watches his grip on her neck lessen but not enough for her to free herself.

“Let me go. Like that one said before. Let me try to fend for my goddamn self out there with the stuff I’ve got” Tomas pressed the gun into her neck more when he watched the two move. “You have to lower your weapons entirely…or I will kill her on my way out”

I’m not losing her Daryl instantly lowered his crossbow, even set it on the ground and that action led Tomas to glare at Rick to do the same along with T-Dog who had a different vantage point.

Tomas slowly stepped back, dragging Y/N along with him before tossing her to the ground keeping his gun pointed at the few. He waited a moment then turned on his heel making a break for it but before Daryl could grab his crossbow, Rick stopped him as Y/N took out her holstered gun aiming it at Tomas and taking the shot. He dropped instantly and his death led to another prisoner losing it and making a break for it.

As Rick grabbed his gun chasing after the other prisoner, T-Dog kept the other two in check while Daryl quickly brought himself to Y/N’s aid assessing how bad the bruising was on her throat and noticing the return of the frozen state she was in.

“Has she spoken to anyone since it happened?” Lori questioned Rick as the two were at the entrance to the prison watching Y/N sit in the field alone.

“No, but I know for a fact Daryl ain’t gonna leave her out there alone for much longer” Rick referred to the archer who couldn’t keep his gaze away from Y/N when he was helping T-Dog with more walker burn pits.

After some time, Y/N flinch hearing footsteps as she turned around to find Daryl holding his arms up in surrender. She relaxed turning herself back around as he brings himself close taking his poncho off and carefully putting it on her.

“If you’re gonna stick around out here might as well have that” Daryl sat himself down beside her leaning back on his hands.

“You wanna know don’t you?”

“Know what?”

“What he did. How he got there…I can’t explain why he was the way that he was but I can try—-“

“We all have our scars. You don’t have to share yours…we all were just. Scared for yea even when we didn’t know” Daryl frowns watching her get comfortable with the poncho on her as she kept her bruises hidden the best she could.

“He hurt me. The first time was…or I thought it was an accident. Then it kept happening every time I did something wrong or he was mad at something else.” Y/N frowns hugging her knees close to her chest. “He even got mad when I tried to get out of it…”

“Get out of the relationship, right?”

The look she gave him was full of sadness and even when the threat being permanently gone, there was still the anger toward her past self for letting it happen for so long and not ending it sooner.

“Oh…well, uhm. I’m glad you’re still here” in some way, that was him telling her exactly how he felt about her.

Y/N finally let herself break with the tears starting to stream down her cheeks. She held herself while she sobbed, gripping onto the poncho reminding herself that she’s safe now.

“I won’t let anyone hurt yea…ever again” Daryl promises then…

and will promise forever.

[little-peril-stories]

Whumptober 2023, Day 26: "You look awful."

Whumptober 2023 Masterlist

Read at your own risk! They're only snippets of a larger story, with no resolution that will be posted online anytime soon; they are being posted out of order; and the characters don't have names. Enjoy!

Contents: prison camp, forced labour, infected wounds, bullying, humiliation, taunting, restraints, all the delicious things

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 2150 || Approx reading time: 9 mins

"You look awful."

Teaser: The heat was cruel, not just to him, of course, but to all who toiled beneath it. The back of his neck, his face, and his arms all stung as salty sweat and flecks of dirt ground into his sunburnt skin.

“Whichever road I take, I’ll be incurring someone's wrath.”

Thoughts had all but faded into silence.

Dull buzzing filled the scholar’s mind, the only thing he could coax himself to produce. That he used to read—and write—academic texts, to spend hours poring over books and filling his mind with all the wondrous knowledge he could get his hands on, was nothing now but a sick joke.

He wasn’t like her. She’d loved working outside. It was who she was—a girl of sunlight, of green leaves, of fresh air, bracing wind, fragrant rain, pollen and petals, wings and feathers and earth and sky. He’d never understood, but he loved her for it. He loved her. He loved her. Always had. Still did. Always would.

You killed her.

I didn’t.

You killed him.

I did it for her.

You deserve this.

Did he? Under her blazing sun, more exhausted than he’d ever been, with callouses on his fingers and chains on his feet, he wasn’t certain anymore.

The heat was cruel, not just to him, of course, but to all who toiled beneath it. The back of his neck, his face, and his arms all stung as salty sweat and flecks of dirt ground into his sunburnt skin.

That discomfort was nothing, of course, compared to the wounds on his chest.

Insisting to himself the pain was not so terrible, he kept his eyes on the ground. If he didn’t keep his gaze trained on the task at hand, it would fall on the hostile glares that followed him everywhere he went. If the eye contact didn’t set off another round of taunts, jeers, and retribution for a crime he had not committed…well, then it would still remind him of how thoroughly meaningless his life had become.

The cuts were festering; he was certain of it. Instead of healing as they should, the letters throbbed red-hot, infection encouraged not only by a knife that must have been teeming with filth but also by the grains of black powder rubbed into the broken skin—like salt in the wound but infinitely worse, for it did not merely burn. It stained.

And every time he looked down at his own skin, he was forced to reckon with what he was—visible now to anyone else who knew where to look.

Water, soap—no use. He wasn’t convinced that even magic, if he met a healer who might be willing to put their hands on him, would scour away the gruesome art piece on his chest.

He blinked and kept moving. That was all he could do. If he stopped, everyone would look at him, prisoners and guards alike. The prisoners would simply sneer their insults and threats—in fact, they would anyway. But if the guards grew impatient, they might grow angry. And if the guards grew angry, they might grow violent.

He didn’t need any more pain, nor any more marks on his skin.

But the sun was beating down, hot as the hateful stares of everyone around him, and the air was heavy and humid, and his bones were so weary and his muscles ached as they never had before, and the letters, they burned—

“Get up,” the nearest guard said, and the scholar realized he had dropped to his knees.

Gods, if he lifted that whip—

“I told you to get up.”

All too cognizant of the laughter drifting in fragments around him and only getting louder, the scholar stood.

“Keep. Digging.”

Nodding, the scholar did.

Whether or not he deserved it no longer seemed relevant. Whether or not he would survive it—far more pressing.

“What’s the matter, professor?” someone howled. “Not feeling good?”

He clenched his jaw and didn’t look up.

“Bit sore, Book Boy? Getting tired?”

Ignoring them, he knew, was the only solution, the only weapon he had. They’d clobber him on a good day, even if he wasn’t on the verge of collapse—and they knew it.

The taunts ebbed and flowed in time with the rotation of the patrolling guards—when those braided-leather whips got too close, the others were quiet. As the guards walked on, though…

“Gonna keep saying you didn’t do it, are you?”

“When we get to do round two?”

“Come on, thought you were a big, powerful guy. Killed a soldier, didn’t you? I wanna see how strong you are. When’s my turn to have a go?”

“Yeah, you better hide that ugly face, coward.”

“Still got nothing to say? How’s about—”

“Gods. You look awful.”

The scholar froze.

No. That voice—it couldn’t be—

As taken by surprise as he was, apparently, the guards started barking orders at the inmates. Someone shoved the scholar back to his knees, but this time, everyone else knelt, too.

He was here.

He was here.

Guards were stammering out questions, wondering why the prince had come—to this, of all places, to this stinking pit of the unredeemable, the vile, and the depraved.

“I’m here for him.” The scholar didn’t need to look up from the dirt where he’d  been digging in straight lines for hours to prepare for the construction of a new road. He knew the prince was waving a lazy hand toward him.

He had also known this day would come: that his stint as a labourer would end, his supposed reprieve from the reality that he was a murderer—that, at the end of the day, murderers had to die.

A few whoops and jibes rose from somewhere around him, but a guard roared for silence, and the command was obeyed.

“Been busy making friends, I see.” The prince was before him, staring down with pitiless amusement. “How terribly unlike you.”

The scholar swallowed and did not speak.

“Come on, now. Didn’t we used to be friends? Speak. Have you been making acquaintance with the other killers and traitors?”

The scholar didn’t move, and still he said nothing.

“Hmm.” The prince sighed softly, rampant disgust in the quiet exhale. “And here I thought you were such a grand coward.” He lowered his voice. “That’s the story I heard, anyway. Murdering the weak and defenceless, and whatnot.”

The scholar’s face burned.

“Disobeying an order from your prince, however? That’s new. You’ve changed. Didn’t I ask you a question?”

The scholar didn’t raise his head—merely stared at the grime and blood crusted underneath his nails and tried not to think of how they were the dirtiest they’d ever been. He tried not to think of the eyes, far too many, that were fixed on his back. He tried not to think of the man who stood before him and how his hands had been the ones to hold her prisoner, and his words the ones to obliterate the scholar’s reputation. And he tried with every fibre being not to dwell on his inevitable exodus from the hell of the camp, or on what reason could impel the prince to summon him into fresh misery.

“Gonna get yours, pervert,” someone hissed, and this time, nobody told them to be silent.

The prince chucked as if he’d heard. “No matter. Get up. You’re coming with me.”

Muscles long used to obeying orders—he had devoted his whole life to this royal family, until that fateful day—twitched in the desire to do as they were told. The scholar bid them to be still.

Something sharp and stinging slashed over the scholar’s back, and he gasped at the fresh, searing pain.

“You know you’re coming back with me whether you like it or not,” the prince said. The scholar took a dim measure of satisfaction in the surprise colouring the prince’s voice. “Now get on your feet before I have someone assist you.”

The scholar knew everyone watched him still—now, not simply because they expected him to be thoroughly humiliated by the prince who’d sent him away in chains, but also to see if the commander-killer were as audacious as he spent so much time pretending to be.

There was no question in his mind that the prince would make good on his threat to order one of his men to assist him in rising from the ground, nor that the manner of assistance would be less than gentle. Without a doubt, the scholar would be hauled away from the camp no matter what he chose. And wherever he went, the whispers would follow, wouldn’t they?

Finally, the scholar raised his head until he met the prince’s gaze.

The summer-lush grass, soon to be dead and torn from the earth, was crushed beneath his knees; the earth under it pressed back, rigid and unyielding in the heat. Above, dotted with distance birds of prey soaking up the sun’s warmth, the sky was a sleek, brilliant blue. Before him, the prince waited, the silk of his jacket waving in the breeze. “Well, well. After all this time, look who’s grown a spine.”

He nodded toward one of the royal guards he had brought with him, and the scholar was wrestled to his feet—not before one of them cuffed him on the side of his head for his recalcitrance, which sent his cracked, near-useless glasses askew. He didn’t know why he bothered wearing them anymore; being able to see or not made little difference. They could throw him around, shackle him, and do as they pleased—and they had.

The scholar gave a strangled cry as a guard accidentally nudged the wounds on his chest. At the sound, the prince’s eyes narrowed. “So you haven’t lost your voice entirely, then. What’s wrong with you?”

When the scholar didn’t answer, the prince jerked his head at his guards again, and a rough hand tore at his shirt, pulling just enough to reveal the glistening, inflamed skin. At the sight, the prince cursed, then chuckled.

“I suppose that answers my question,” he said, glancing around at the inmates still kneeling and waiting for permission to return to work. “It doesn’t appear you’ve made any friends here at all.”

Without warning, he stepped forward, for the first time putting his hands on the scholar himself, eliciting a gasp when he touched one of the seeping wounds. “Murderer,” he read, revealing the word, “and pervert? Gods, seems like you’ve made yourself a charming set of enemies, in fact.” He shifted his hand upward and forced the scholar to look up from the ground. “There’s no question about what you are, is there?”

The scholar tried to move his head, to look away. His effort only earned him another blow to the back of his head.

“Answer me,” the prince said softly, tightening his grip just enough that the scholar’s jaw began to ache.

The scholar forced out, “I know what I am.”

Silence coated the land around them.

“Yes,” said the prince, smiling now, “as do I. A failure.” Snickers rolled through the kneeling inmates. “And if you, in fact, have not accepted that to be true…you will soon.” He tilted the scholar’s face from side to side, let go and plucked at the filthy shirt. “Any other delightful decorations I should be aware of? Any more injuries, before I take you back?”

“Just hurry,” the scholar said, “just get on with it and let me die already.” He was tired, so tired. From the work. From the infection. From the guilt. From wondering of where she had gone after she fled. From the constant, cutting terror of what might happen if she were found again.

Someone ordered him to show some respect, a laughable suggestion if he’d ever heard one, and the strike that landed sent him reeling. Chained now, he hit the ground hard, writhing in the dirt where he’d been toiling mere minutes before.

“Oh,” said the prince. “You think you’re going to your execution, do you?”

He turned, giving orders to his royal guards and to the ones who patrolled the camp, not another glance or word spared for the scholar. One of the iron-gripped soldiers wrenched him to his feet yet again and informed him that if he didn’t walk, he’d be dragged away, and that it was his choice. To himself, the scholar laughed, for choice had become an entirely foreign entity.

This fact was something no one else seemed to understand, for when he’d been loaded into a wagon, the prince addressed him again. His eyes roamed over the shackles, the magic-suppressing bands, the limp way the scholar’s shirt hung off his shoulder to reveal the cursed black letters on his skin. “If only,” he said, “you’d made the right choice, perhaps we wouldn’t be here.”

“I would do it again,” the scholar said. If the choice had been to help her escape or to let her be caught and subject her to the prince’s whims instead, what choice had ever existed at all?

Pearly teeth flashed as the door closed. “Well, you say that now, old friend. But we shall see.”

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[scarfacemarston]

"Rdr 1 feels so lonely!"- Yep, that's the point.

TW: S*icdal Idealation Agreed, but stick with it. That's the point of the game, and has been since day 1. People say it's eerie, and that's accurate, too. The soundtrack can straight up be creepy, and camping alone is not always a peaceful feeling. It's based on Spaghetti Westerns with people like Clint Eastwood and A Fist Full of Dollars and The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, where the protagonists were usually the silent type, the one-man armies, the chivalrous to women, but distrusted by others and distrustful of others. (John and the protagonist usually change the characters' minds by the end. ) John's mission is supposed to feel lonely and hopeless because it is a hopeless near impossible task. He doesn't have love and support. Everything has been taken away. That's why John confronting Bill at the beginning is not because he is stupid. It's purposeful because he's lost the will to live until Bonnie wakens it up in him again. She bluntly asks him why he would confront Bill like that, and that's what John hints at. He had just come from prison and was possibly tortured, the people he loves are gone and might die, and his farm is destroyed. For those wondering about John not having a journal. I agree. I would have liked a journal, but that goes against the spaghetti western's protagonist's mystique. We're not supposed to know what the character is feeling except for context clues, minute expressions, or body language, of which the game does well. Arthur having a journal is unique to the genre, but it is not a spaghetti western. This is not Red Dead Redemption 2. You'll enjoy the game more once you separate the two.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

◇ The Lady In Armour - King Baldwin x Reader: Part 1 ◇

◇ Long fic ◇

A/N: Oh boy this is a long one. I have had an absolute blast writing it. This was requested by @lzsia, I hope its what you had in mind! Let me know if you all want a part 2. As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven and not the real historical figgures. This is also set pre-film. Enjoy!

PS: Also this has a desctiption of y/n

TW: Mentions of blood, death, battle, and leprosy

Y/n was never a weak woman. From the time she could walk, she was a fighter. Just like her father. Her mother despised this, often going as far as to scream at her when she even dared touching her fathers sword. This was 8 years ago.

She had since left her mother and siblings to join the mercenaries when she was 14. “You are just like your father. You are going to get yourself killed just like he did!” were the final words she ever heard her mother say. That was 2 years ago.

These words rang in her mind as she sat, perched atop her stallion. Women not being permitted to fight meant she had to keep her identity concealed from the prying eyes of men that surrounded her. 

She had not meant to be a part of this battle. She thought it was too risky with the weight of her femininity pulling her down. Yet, here she was.

The army approached Jerusalem. And now there was nothing she could do. There was no going back.

Everything was a blur. Everything went so fast. They were out there for days. Weeks. But it passed like mere hours.

Until one night. One night everything changed. Her camp was ambushed. She was the first to see them coming, but she was not fast enough to warn everybody.

There were so many of them. They came from everywhere. Swords smashed against each other, blood sprayed the tents, bodies from both sides of the battle fell. Then everything went black.

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

Y/n’s eyes snapped open. It was still dark. The first thing she noticed was the sharp pain in the back of her head. The second thing she noticed were the tight restraints, wrapped around her wrists and ankles. Shackles. She was in shackles. And whatever she was on was moving. She remained still to ensure whoever was around didnt she was awake, but opened her eyes wider to take in her surroundings. 

She was on the back of a horse drawn wagon. 

This was not good. Her mind immediately went to how to get out of this. She couldn't jump off the wagon on account of the shackles around her ankles and how fast it was moving. And she couldn't feel her sword on her belt anymore. She appeared to be the only one on the back of the wagon. That meant everyone from her camp was either dead or retreated to the base camp for backup. To make matters worse. Her helmet was gone. She turned her head to then side and saw it sitting on the opposite side of the wagon.

That explains the reason she wasn't killed. This was not a good situation. No doubt about it she would be executed. A prisoner being captured  is bad enough, but as a woman? She would be killed for sure, but maybe even worse beforehand.

At least she would die like her father. With dignity. Not as some old woman after simply having children to a man she hated. 

As she was thinking about this, the wagon stopped. It was sudden and abrupt. She heard the sound of men speaking and she could make out the faint outline of large white tents. The horse began moving again. She could not see the man who guided the horse but she knew it would be a soldier of Jerusalem. It had to be.

She wanted to put her helmet back on in case her face had not been seen yet, but she didn't want to move and risk whoever was on the horse knowing she was awake. It was better to stay silent.

The horse stopped again a few minutes later. She heard the man guiding the horse speaking to someone but she couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

She was not afraid. There was no need for fear. Fear was useless. She had not been afraid since she was a child. And she was not afraid now. She would not give them the pleasure of seeing her quake in fear like a scared little girl. She was a woman. A strong woman and she would not allow them to perceive her any differently.

The man dismounted the horse and approached the back of the wagon. She turned to look at him, not saying a word. “So you're awake. You have been awfully quiet back here little lady” she remained silent.

“I'll let the king decide your fate, you heathen. Follow me, I know you can walk” he stepped aside to allow her to get out of the wagon.

She stood and picked up her helmet, placing it over her head again before jumping from the back of the wagon. The man grabbed her arm hard and dragged her to the largest white tent in the center of the camp. She was still not afraid. 

The man pushed her into the tent and bowed his head as two guards ran to grab her arms, holding her in place. She put up no fight.

“My lord, this was the last surviving prisoner from the camp we claimed”. Y/n turned her attention from her captor to the center of the tent.

There were a few guards and some royal officials she recognised from recounts given to her by other soldiers. And in the middle of them all, sat behind a desk was the king of Jerusalem. Baldwin IV. His face was bandaged around his nose, cheeks and forehead, leaving his eyes, brow and mouth exposed as well as the suprisingly soft looking blonde hair that framed his face.

Y/n peered at him from behind the slit in her helmet. She was not afraid of this man. If she could even call him that. To her, he was just a boy. A boy with a filthy disease. He was merely 16, just like her.

He stood from the desk to approach her. She stared at him until he stood feet from her.

“Get on your knees" He commanded.

She did not move. The king gestured to the guards and they shoved her to the ground, one hitting her in the stomach, causing her to groan in pain.

She stared up at him through her brow with rage in her eyes. He had given the command for her camp to be executed. They were dead because of him.

“There is something you should know my lord” her captor chimed in.

The captor stepped forward and placed his hands on either side of her helmet, pulling it from her head dramatically.

Long, black hair fell from the helmet to spill out onto her shoulders. She turned again to look up at the king, a scowl plastered onto her thin, femmine face.

The king's expression changed from one of anger, to one of shock, confusion, and something else she couldn't quite place. 

“What is the meaning of this?” a royal adviser called out. “This has to be a mistake, she has to be the wife of a knight who was caught up in this!” another said.

Neither y/n or the king were paying any attention to this pointless banter. They stared at each other with a feeling that neither had ever felt before. Y/n could see him more clearly now. He was actually quite handsome.

A few more stray words were exchanged in shock before Baldwin called for silence. “Release her, now!” he shouted at the guards who still held her in place harshly. They loosened their grip, pulling her to her feet. “We will keep her. As a servant. Her camp was the last and the battle shall be over before sunrise” the king said sternly, eyes never leaving y/n.

As the night wore on, Saladin’s army retreated and y/n’s captors returned to the kingdom, bringing her with them.

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

By very early morning y/n was shown to the servants chambers. Now she laid in the small bed, staring at the ceiling. She was not tired in the slightest but she was not permitted to leave the room. The guards that stood outside the door would make sure of that.

She was torn. She wanted to leave, yes. But to return to what? She had no family and all of her friends who didn't even know who she really was were dead. As much as she wanted to leave, there was something that she could not stop thinking about. The long gaze that she had shared with the king.

She still could not quite place how he was feeling when he looked at her. It had her baffled for the first time in her life. Spending so much time around men in the mercenaries meant that she usually knew how to read them very easily, but Baldwin? She had no idea. 

On the opposite side of the castle, Baldwin himself was in a very similar situation.

He laid in his bed, staring up at the high ceiling. That young woman had him in a trance. She was beautiful, so beautiful. He did wonder how she managed to get to the battlefield.

Women were not permitted to fight and there was no way she was the wife of one of Saladin’s knights. Perhaps she had snuck into the army? But how?

Unlike y/n, the young king was very tired. He resisted the urge to shut his eyes, he wanted to hold onto the image of her beautiful face for just a moment longer. As he felt his eyes begin to close, one last thought crossed his mind. “I must to speak with her tomorrow”.

It was afternoon by the time Baldwin opened his eyes. The exhaustion from the battle had worn out his body entirely. This rest was much needed. Barely a minute passed since he woke when there was a knock on his bedroom chamber door.

“Come in" he called out, rubbing his eyes. Tiberias pushed open the door and entered slowly. “Good Afternoon my lord” he greeted, bowing his head. “Good afternoon,” Baldwin replied, his words slurred and tired.

“I just wished to see if you were ready to speak with that woman we captured last night? You mentioned you wanted to speak with her on our return to the castle”.

Baldwin sat up straight at the sudden memory of her flooding back, the tiredness leaving his body in a second.

“Yes, of course. Why didn't you remind me earlier?” he stammered out, getting to his feet.

“You were still sleeping my lord. You seemed very tired and I did not want to disturb you”. Tiberias had entered the king's chambers earlier that day to find him still fast asleep. Not wanting to wake him, he told the girl that the king would decide her fate in the afternoon.

“Well I am more than ready to meet with her this instant. Tell the physicians to wait, I must see her” 

“Very well my lord” Tiberias replied, leaving the young king to dress himself.

Y/n was still in shackles as Tiberias led her down the corridors, accompanied by two guards. A group of servant women had prepared her change of clothes, telling her that she must look her best to meet with the king alone.

When they reached the kings chambers, the doors were already opend. Y/n could see the king, sitting at his desk with his back to them writing something with a feathered quill. “My lord? I have the girl with me” Tiberias called out.

Baldwin turned to the group and signaled for the guards to leave them. “Release her from the shackles as well” he added. “Are you sure my lord?” one of the guards asked. “Yes, now leave us” he said sternly.

Once y/n was free from the chains, she turned her attention to the king. They were alone now.

Then Baldwin did something she never could have expected. He gave her a warm smile and greeted her with a soft kiss on her hand. “My lady. Please, sit” he gestured to a couch that sat against the wall of the room.

“I must hear about how you came to be in Saladin’s army”.

In return, y/n smiled and took a seat on the couch. Now she knew the emotion he had shown the previous night. It was much easier to see now without confusion and shock shrouding it. He had looked at her with love.