#tw rape reference

[deadsetobsessions]

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

-

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

-

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

-

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

-

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

-

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother��� no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

[humblefryingpan]

Considering Regina was a teenager when her abusive mother forced her to marry a middle aged man and she had to cast an infertility curse on herself just in case I'm gonna say her hatred of Snow is a little more than "you killed my bf". Like little Snow went "I want her to be my new mom" and then Regina's only chance of freedom (running away with Daniel) got crushed before she got sold to another - possibly worse - prison for years

I will defend this woman with my life. Why does everything bad that can happen happen to her?

[starstrike]

Mithrun's desire as an SA analogue

TW discussion of SA and detailed breakdown of aesthetics evoking SA. The way I discuss this is vivid in a way that may be triggering, though there is no discussion of actual sexual assault. Just survivor's responses to it.

People relate to Mithrun and see his condition as an analogue for a few different things, like brain injury or depression. And I think all of them are there. But I also see Mithrun's story as an SA analogue, and Ryoko Kui intentionally evokes those aesthetics. I think it's a part of Mithrun's character that a lot of people miss, but I very much consider it text. This is partially inspired by @heird99's post on what makes this scene so disturbing; so check out their post, too :)

So to start off with, the demon invades Mithrun's bed, specifically. There's even a canopy around it, which specifically evokes this idea of personal intrusion; the barrier is being pulled apart without consent or warning. The way the hand reaches towards Mithrun's body from outside of the panel division makes it almost look like the goat stroking over his body. It's an especially creepy visual detail; similarly, the goat's right hand parts into the side of the panel as well. It's literally like it's tearing the page apart; but gently. So gently.

Mithrun is in bed. It is his bed that the demon is intruding on. He's in a position of intimacy. The woman behind him is a facsimile of his "beloved" that he left behind; the woman who, in reality, chose Mithrun's brother. He is in bed with his fantasy lover, who is leaning over him. While this scene isn't explicitly sexual, it is intimate. And it is being invaded. The goat lifts Mithrun gently, who is confused, but not yet struggling.

The erotics of consumption and violence in Ryoko Kui's work(remember that the word 'erotic' can have many different meanings, please) are a... notable part of some of her illustrations. I would say she blurs the lines between all forms of desire: personal, sexual, gustatory and carnal, in her illustrations in order to emphasize the pure desire she wants to work with and evoke to serve her themes. Kui deploys sexual imagery in a lot of places in Dungeon Meshi, and this is one of them.

In this case, horrifically. The goat's assault begins with drooling, licking, and nuzzling. The goat could be enjoying and "playing with" its food. But it can also be interpreted as it "preparing" Mithrun with its tongue as it begins to literally breach Mithrun's body. The goat also invades directly through his clothing; that adds another level of disturbing to me. There's nothing Mithrun can do in this moment of violation. Mithrun is fighting, but he is fighting weakly, trying to grip on and push away when he has no ability or option to. All he can do is beg the goat to stop. And it doesn't care. This all evokes sexual assault.

The sixth panel demonstrates a somewhat sexual position, with Mithrun's thighs spread around the goat's hunched over body. In the next, the goat pulls and holds apart Mithrun's thighs as he nuzzles into him. The way the clothing bunches up looks a bit as if it has been pushed up. It has pinned Mithrun down onto the bed, into Mithrun's soft furs and pillows. It takes a place made to be supernaturally warm and comfortable, and violates it. It's utterly and intimately horrifying. To me, this sequence of positions directly evokes a rape scene. I think Kui did this very explicitly. These references to sexual invasion are part of what makes this scene so disturbing; albeit, to many viewers, subconsciously.

This is also the moment the goat takes Mithrun's eye. Other than this, the goat seems exceptionally strong, but also... gentle. It holds Mithrun's body tightly, but moves it around slowly. It doesn't need to hurt Mithrun physically. But in that moment, it takes Mithrun's eye. Blood seeps from a wound while an orifice that should not be pierced is penetrated. This moment, the ooze of blood in one place specifically, also evokes rape. That single bit of physical gore is a very powerful bit of imagery to me.

Finally; it is Mithrun's desire that is eaten. After his assault, Mithrun can find no pleasure in things that he once did. He is fully disassociated from his emotions. This is a common response to trauma, especially in the case of SA. It's not uncommon for people to never, or take a long time to, enjoy sex in the same way again; or at all. They might feel like their rapist has robbed them of a desire and pleasure they once had. I think this makes Mithrun's lack of desire a partial analogue for the trauma of sexual assault.

Mithrun's desire for revenge was, supposedly, all that remained. Anger at his assaulter, anger at every being that was like it; though, perhaps not anger. Devotion, in a way. To his cause. I don't know. But the immediate desire to seek revenge is another response to SA. But on to Mithrun's true feelings on the matter.

This is... So incredibly tragic. Mithrun feels used up. Like his best parts have been taken away. Like he's being... tossed aside. This certainly parallels the way assault victims can feel after being left by an abuser. Or the way assault victims feel they might be "ruined" forever for other partners. These are common sentiments for survivors to carry, and need to overcome. In the text, it's almost like Mithrun feels the only being who can desire him is a demon who might "finish devouring" him. That that's his only use. It's worth noting that Mithrun trusted the demon. Mithrun's world was built by the demon, and Mithrun, in that way, was cared for by the demon. I think this reinforces Mithrun's place as a victim.

There's also something to be said about Mithrun as a victim of his own possessive romantic and sexual desire. The mirror shows him his beloved just dining with his brother, and it infuriates him. He doesn't know if the vision is real, nor if she has really chosen his brother as a romantic partner. The goat then creates a whole fantasy world where she loves him. As Mithrun's dungeon deteriorates, she is the only person that continues to exist. Mithrun continues to have control over her. And that is the strongest desire the demon is eating, isn't it? There's something interesting there, but I don't know what to say about it.

In conclusion, I think Mithrun's story is an explicit analogue for sexual assault-- though, certainly, among other things! The way the scene plays out and is composed explicitly references sexual violation and invasion of the body. His condition mirrors common trauma responses to sexual violence. And, at the end, he finally realizes he can recover.

Let's end on a happy Mithrun, after taking the first step on his journey to recovery :) You aren't vegetable scraps Mithrun. But even if you were-- every single thing in this world has value. Even vegetable scraps.

[the-californicationist]

Friday Night Magic

AO3 Link -- I'm pretty sure this was an old ask, but I don't have the original request anymore. Sorry!

Your husband of many years, John Price, has been keeping your secret: you love it when he plays doctor, giving you a happy little pill that makes you really sleepy, really fast. The best part is that you never know how you’ll be woken up. But, when he suggests that you can still play together even while he’s in the middle of hosting game night with his mates, you decide to trust in the fact that the doctor really does know best. 

TW: non-consensual sex, drugged sex, nc-somno, rape, gangbang, betrayal, anal and vaginal sex, references to past rape events

His hand was doing nothing for him, and John hadn’t drawn a usable spell in the past six turns. He was mana-screwed and bored with his lieutenant’s penchant for playing control decks. But, it was Friday, and that’s all that mattered. The tired captain always looked forward to Fridays when they were off-mission. It meant that he got to drink through his whiskey collection, smoke way too damn many cigars, and play Magic: the Gathering with his mates. All work and no play makes John a dull boy, after all. 

Friday nights also meant that you were tucked away in your room, playing with yourself while your man played cards, often overstimulating yourself to the point of tears so that when he was ready to fuck you, his cheeks pink and his breath smelling of whiskey and tobacco, he could go for hours, his fat dick drowning in the milky mess you’d made. He was like your very own sex machine, pounding away at your drooling hole, half-drunk and eager to have you in every position he could dream of. 

Sometimes, though, John’s Friday nights were extra special. Right now, he couldn’t even concentrate on the game. He just wanted to check on you to see if he was about to get a very rare kind of lucky. Fingers crossed, he excused himself from the table and padded into his bedroom, nudging the door open a crack to see where you were. 

You were laying in bed atop your plush blanket, dressed in a matching mesh set, a pale pink bra and crotchless panty, lazily touching yourself with your deft fingers and reading smut on your phone. You didn’t even remove your hand from your clit when he walked in, continuing to swirl slow circles around its sensitive head, rolling your hips just a little to help you feel the slow, delightful drag of your pleasure.  

“Hey, pretty bird,” John purred, sitting beside you, feeling the mattress sink under his weight. 

“Hey, baby. You done with your game?” You asked, peeked up over the edge of your phone before turning back to your scrolling.

“Not yet,” John leaned forward and kissed your nipple through the fabric of your bra, the thin mesh letting you feel the hot, wet whisper of his tongue.

You moaned for him, a lovely, ragged sound. It awakened something mean and primal in his chest. You pouted a bit when he pulled away, your bottom lip bulging out and showing him a small frown,

“I thought you wanted to play doctor tonight.”

Jackpot. John was a lucky man, indeed. He felt the blood from his core rush down to his prick, making his flesh instantly start to swell. He loved playing doctor. 

“We can still play,” he began to tease you, snaking his hand up your ankle and calf, his palm warming your skin. 

“Aren’t your mates still here?” You asked, a hint of scandal in your tone. 

John cocked an eyebrow, questioning your inquiry, a bit put out by your resistance,

“Don’t you wanna take your medicine, love?” His hand slipped slowly over the meat of your inner thigh, his longest fingers reaching just past the seal of your lips, barely dipping into your swollen, drooling hole, “Feels like you’ve got a fever.”

“You think so?” You smiled coyly up at him, putting down your phone and playing with your nipples in front of him, pinching and shaking them back and forth through the pink fabric. 

John nodded, “I think you should take a pill, yeah? Better nip this in the bud before you get sick, sweetheart.”

“The doctor knows best!” You winked at him and rooted around in the bottom of your beside table.

You pulled out a little purple pill bottle, tipped the lid, and placed a white tablet in his open palm. John removed his other hand from between your legs and used the fingers that had been inside of you to gently lift the pill to your lips. 

“Say ahh,” he commanded, almost all of the softness gone from his voice. 

“Ahh…” You made a long noise with your throat, tipping your head back and sticking out your tongue. When you felt the pill land in place, you flipped it under your tongue to allow it to dissolve. 

“Good girl,” John praised you, letting you suckle on his slick-covered fingers as you liked, enjoying how you were sucking him down to his knuckles as if you were practicing for his cock. Then, once the pill was gone, you released his hand and kissed his palm, the sticky sheen of your lip gloss making a little popping noise as you did. 

“Thank you, doctor. I know you’ll make me feel so much better,” you smiled, 

“I will, sweetheart. Come say goodnight to the boys.”

“Okay, but I need my robe,” you said, your voice laced with heavy apprehension. John wasn’t asking, though, and he helped you stand up from the bed, taking your phone and wrapping your silk nightgown around you, doing the bare minimum for your modesty. 

You fixed yourself in your vanity mirror and followed John out into the main room, holding the robe tight against your body as you emerged. 

“Hey, bonnie,” Soap’s face lit up, “Good to see ya.”

“You, too! Just wanted to come say good night before I went off to bed.”

“Oh, no. You gotta join us for a game, babes. It’s been too long,” Gaz chided you playfully, grabbing you by the shoulder and guiding you to the table. 

You looked up at John for help. But, he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew you only had a few more minutes before the pill would start to take effect, and he also knew that you were way too shy to tell them the truth about your naughty little habit. 

What could you say? Oh, sorry, I can’t play tonight. I took an extra-strength sleeping pill because I want my husband to fuck me while I’m helpless and knocked out cold. 

John smiled, watching you squirm and rack your brain for any and every excuse to back out,

“Oh, no, there’s no more chairs. I’ll just —“

“Si’ down,” Simon said curtly, grabbing your hip and pulling you down onto his lap, letting your legs straddle one of his huge thighs, “You can play my hand, Mrs. Price.”

The fact that your robe had ridden up your legs almost to reveal your thick asscheeks was only a secondary concern. The primary one was that your well-rubbed pussy was already leaving a damp stain on Simon’s jeans. His thigh was as hard as a stone, heavy with muscle, and he was holding your hip hard enough to keep you fully pressed to him. The only movement you could make was to grind back against him, which you had to do every time you lost your balance on his leg. 

You tried your best to pay attention to the game, but you were struggling to stay alert. The pill’s effects were making your head foggy and your eyes droop. Your fingers were too weak to hold the cards, and when they dropped from your hand, your husband’s smile turned sinister.

“Feelin’ alright there, love?” Gaz asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“Um…” You tried to form a sentence, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Felt a bit under the weather earlier, wasn’t she? Took her pill, though. Makes her a bit drowsy,” Price explained, sitting next to Simon, rubbing your back, not seeming to care that his hands were shifting the collar of the robe out of place and making it hang down your shoulder, revealing the top of your sheer bra to the whole room. 

You tried to fix it, but you were slowly losing control of your arms, feeling like you were floating in a dreamy sea. 

“Dinnae fash, hen,” Johnny grinned, folding his hand on the table, “We’ll tuck you in, won’t we, lads?”

“Aye, that we will,” Simon’s voice was deep and low, spoken right into your ear. 

You looked up at John for help, realizing that he wasn’t going to save you. You thought he would scoop you up and take you back to bed, or at least make some excuse and send his men home, but no. He was letting them pull at your robe so that it hung around your waist, watching them reveal your ample tits in your see-through bra, doing nothing but looking pleased as could be. 

“John…” You slurred, feeling yourself slip away to a drugged sleep, hearing his words right before your head fell to the table in front of you,

“Sweet dreams, love.”

You were gone from the world, floating in between being awake and being asleep. And it almost seemed like you could feel yourself being fucked. The pleasure was there, and yet, you couldn’t move or scream. You couldn't open your eyes. But, John would never allow that to happen. It was just a dream, right?

When you first awoke in one of your windows of consciousness, you were still at the table, but something was… wrong. You hadn’t moved from Simon’s lap, but now, he was moving you. You were split over his cock, and he was buried, balls-deep in your pussy, fondling your breasts under your mesh bra. The others were laughing, talking, joking, carrying on their game, but their eyes leered at you like hyenas waiting their turn to sink their teeth into the neck of a caught gazelle.

“Mmngh, ungh,” you tried to speak, but you sounded drunk, “John?”

“No, princess,” Simon snarled in your ear, “Your big man’s lettin’ us jump the line, yeah? Nice of him, innit? Fuck, I love Fridays.”

“What?” You were so confused. Why was Simon talking as if this had happened before? You were so ashamed, and John was right beside you. How could he let this happen? “John… Please…”

You tried to reach out to him, but your arms only lifted to his knee, trying to grab at his shirt or hand, anything to make him help you. Simon’s dick was steadily pounding into your swollen cunt, and John was just smoking his cigar and laughing at your feeble attempts to get free. 

“Hush, now, love. Riley loves playin’ doctor, just like me. In fact, the boys have been takin’ good care of you every time they stop by, haven’t you?”

“Aye,” Johnny held his whiskey up to you as if to give you a toast, his eyes wide and full of a sick sort of hunger, “That bonnie cunt gets me through the week, lass. And ye keep it so wet for us. Such a good wee missus you’ve got, Cap’n.”

“Can’t thank you enough for the hospitality, Mrs. Price,” Gaz nodded to Soap, agreeing with his crude statement, taking another swig of his drink as his other hand moved under the table, moving rhythmically, obviously jerking himself off to the sight of you being speared on Simon’s big dick. 

Suddenly, you felt Simon’s hands grip your hips on both sides of your body, holding you down onto the base of his cock, and you knew that he was about to come. You squirmed, wishing you could muster up any kind of strength, feeling as if you were still dreaming, 

“No… No! Stop… Please… Don’t come in me…”

John cupped your cheek as his lieutenant dumped load after load of his sticky come into your body, his cock pulsing inside of you like a heartbeat, each throb of its huge shaft was another thick pool of his spend, turning your stomach and bringing desperate tears to the corners of your eyes.

“Shh, shh, shh,” John purred, “Take the medicine Riley’s givin’ you, love. It’ll make you feel so much better. You want mine next, hm? Will that make it right, pretty girl?”

“Unghhh…” You felt your body betray you, your pussy needing to come. Simon had one of his hands working quick, lurid circles around your clit, and now he was dragging you to a climactic peak, forcing you to come on his spent cock. 

As you felt yourself spin out of control, your legs began to shake, giving away your moment of pleasure to the whole table. 

“That’s a good girl,” John praised you, brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face. 

“Fuck, she’s so wet. I think she likes an audience, Cap,” Simon observed, planting sloppy kisses onto your neck as you trembled from the aftershocks of your bliss. 

They barely allowed you to cool down before John said,

“C’mere, love. My turn.”

Simon lifted you off of his lap with Price’s help, your robe fluttering to the floor. Your husband turned you on your back, laying you on the table across the cold wood and stacks of strewn playing cards. You tried to roll away, tried to sit up, but it was no use. The drugs had their hold on you, and you felt yourself fading back into a deep sleep. 

Just before the blackness took you, you saw John lining up his fat, drooling cock at your entrance, sliding his head through Riley’s come with little resistance. 

“Mmm-fuck. You’re so tight even after Riley’s prick, love. This pussy can just take so much cock, huh? Perfect girl.”

You slipped away into sleep yet again, and it seemed like you had only been out for a few minutes. You woke again in the same position, with your husband brutally pounding away at your hole, stuffing himself inside with wet, slick, slapping sounds. 

Hands were roughly groping your tits from the other side of the table, none of which belonged to your husband, and as they played with your nipples, they began to pinch and pull at them, making you cry out. 

“Look who’s awake again,” John cooed, his voice laced with farcical pity, “Don’t worry. You’ll get Johnny and Kyle soon enough.”

You couldn’t hold on. You tried to struggle against the shadowy slumber that pressed down on all your senses, but it was no use. 

When you woke up again, you were in bed. Your pillow and blanket were gone, but you recognized the soft sheets. Then, you realized you were moving. The whole mattress was shaking back and forth, and Johnny was behind you, shoving his leaking dick into your asshole. 

“Unghff-fuck! You back among the living, bonnie? Your tight little hole just grabbed me like a fuckin’ vice.”

“S-s-stop. Please…” You managed to whisper, your throat feeling sore for some reason. You tried not to think about why that would be.

“Cannae stop, lass. Your man’s dead set on findin’ the cure for what ails you, and I’m here to help. Based on how wet your wee slit has become, I think we’re on the right track.”

Just when you heard his words tease you about your wetness, you felt his fingers slip inside of your pussy, three of them, cruelly thick, following his cock’s rhythm, stretching you wider than you’d ever been in your whole life. 

You tried to cry out, to scream, to call for help, but it was no use. So, you melted into his efforts instead, feeling your muscles flutter against him, threatening to make you come from his anal sex. He didn’t seem to notice your mounting pleasure, or if he did, he didn’t much care. He just continued to thrust into your holes, slamming his stocky weight into you, making your cheek sink into the mattress as you lay face-down, ass-up for your husband’s best friend.

The last thing you heard as you fell into unconsciousness was Johnny’s moans, and his comment of surprise,

“Oh, bonnie girl. You gonna come for me? Fuck, yes…”

Your next moment of lucidity was in the living room. You were on the couch. Well, your face was laying against the crook of someone’s neck, your forehead pushing into the fabric upholstery, as you were being fucked in their lap on the sofa. You tried to lift yourself to see what was happening to you, and as you did, you saw that you were riding Simon again, straddling his legs as he fucked his cock up into your dripping hole from below. His mouth was suckling from your nipple, your bra missing, latched on and unwilling to let go, leaving little hickies behind as his teeth teased the sensitive nub. 

But, he wasn’t alone. There was… something… happening to your asshole. You craned your neck to see Kyle standing behind you, fucking his long dick into your ass as Simon pounded into you from below. 

You let out a long moan, the pleasure that you’d been receiving clearly coursing through you despite your lack of consent. You had been coming and coming and coming, and you hadn’t been awake for any of it. 

“Holy shit,” Garrick growled, his grip on your flank tightening hard enough to bruise, “She’s gonna come again. Can’t fuckin’ believe it. Feels so goddamn good.”

“Fuck,” Simon popped his mouth away from your chest to lean his head back, relaxing as he rode the waves of your impromptu orgasm, “Oh, look. She’s awake.”

Kyle’s huge hand fisted your hair and pulled you back so he could see your face,

“I dunno. I wouldn’t call that awake. How much did she take?”

“Cap gave her two more when she was with him and Soap, so we’ve got time, Sergeant. Don’t we, love?” Simon grabbed your face without care, squeezing your cheeks and making you look at him through hooded, tired eyes, “Oh, yeah, we do. All the time in the world.”

Fic #99 is in the bag... next one will be #100! Thanks to everyone for supporting me through my absolute descent into madness. lol

[lubrumalis]

ghost headcanons! (realistic)

tw: nsfw, spoilers, dead dove do not eat

a lot of these are based off of my personal understanding of him

part 2 —> character analysis of ghost

general:

didn’t go back to manchester after his family died, too many foul memories—a lot of friends will probably know him as a murderer (comic reference, ghost was accused of killing his family in the newspaper)

has a fit body. a lot of people like to hc him as big and bulky, i think otherwise! its actually a huge disadvantage to be bulky in size as a soldier (logistics while fighting yk). most SAS soldiers are trained for endurance and fitness, i think he has a moreso lean body

hes not cold and ruthless, wouldn’t say hes a big softie either.

VERYYYY punctual. always on time

will not abuse or rape anyone. this guys been through atrocities, he would never do it to someone else

won’t hire a prostitute, ever.

honestly, hes just another dude in the military. he loves dad jokes and bourbon😭

ghost doesn’t think hes mean or tries to be, he simply is intimidating because of his size and way of talking

he likes watching soccer in his free time

gets internally offended if someone thinks hes from london (anywhere but Manchester)

very dark humoured. tell him any dark joke and he wouldn’t care

loves tea

listens to older british bands, like the smiths

cannot understand modern slang at all. what does ‘iykyk’ and ‘rizzler’ mean???

texts like a typical millennial. uses ‘😂’ and ‘😜’ unironically. types with proper grammar and spelling with punctuation too, maybe an occasional LOL

also unironically likes posts about trust issues and being a sigma male. he doesn’t actually think hes one, he just relates to those quotes that are like: “being alone is better than with fakes” 😭😭😭😭

ghost probably hates other men more than misandrists 😕 i think its bc hes always fighting other men and dealing with the cruel things theyve done, so ghost subconsciously feels more on guard with men he doesnt know

has insomnia

doesn’t cry. ghost doesn’t remember the last time he cried.

isn’t rich rich, but has a ton of savings. he doesn’t have a family or spend a lot. so the money piles up.

relationship hcs:

first off, i dont think he’d realistically get into one anyway LMAO

s/o would have to the chasing, i dont think ghost is the kind to actively pursue someone

he has charisma, doesn’t feel like using it

hes very against the idea at first—his family got murdered because he was in the military, you think hes gonna let it happen again?

probably will not like someone working with him as a soldier

i think itd go two ways: a) you are a civilian who aggressively pursues the poor guy and he gives in, b) you work as a military nurse and gradually get to know him, c) you are a longtime close friend of his before he was in the military

i cant see him being fwb with anyone, only one night stands

hes not a toxic partner or super lovey dovey

ghost doesn’t entertain multiple women at once

itd most likely end up in a breakup where he fears for your safety:(((

BUT lets ignore that

tbh, i think he would probably be with someone very empathetic and kind to others. he doesn’t like people overly energetic, too soft, or someone that annoys him

persons gotta be independent and good with long distance

simon doesn’t care about age gaps, but probably wants someone at least in their late twenties

had a hard time opening up, eventually told you everything once he trusts you

another reason why i think he wants someone empathetic is because he has severe trust issues😃😃

last thing he’d care about is looks for long term relationships

the type of guy to disappear for 6 months and reappear to be like “remember im your husband???”🫡

doesn’t let you tell your friends about him—No hes not being uncommitted or toxic, but hes simply being cautious after what happened to his family

you can’t show anyone photos of him, his name, his occupation, NOTHHINGGG

so you fake a name for your bf who your friends think you’re lying about

definitely does not let you post on social media about him either.

installs security in your home, teaches you self defense, and gives you weapons. this guy can be paranoid

will never hit you or lay a hand on you

ghost genuinely thinks you saved him—his life was bleak and empty before you came in. subconsciously thinks of you as a savior

he buys you gifts, does chores for you, he really likes you :(

ghost actively tries to make his voice sound softer and friendlier when hes talking to you

doesnt understand playing mind games, things like the silent treatment or “im ok” when ur not ok thing. just tell him how you feel

doesn’t tell his team about your existence. you and his job are always going to be separate.

avoids talking about what he does in the military. ghost has killed and injured many and he doesn’t want you to see that side of him.

scary dog privileges for SURE

[rafeplay]

hello i’m here..

i would love if u wrote something about this. there is a very particular cruelty to reinforcing trauma and somehow making something already horrific worse cause it’s guided and patronising… & cause of that i need it really bad..

HELLO HANNAH THIS TOOK SO FUCKING LONG AND IM SO SO RUSTY W WRITING!!! but ily.. thank u for sending me this ily UGH!! tw for past rape and incest and references to underage abuse - post in question btw!! link is old bc I changed my user

Jimmy picks you up on a street corner, leering out the window of his pick-up truck like you’re a two-dollar whore.

“Oh.” You press your cheek into your raised shoulder. Coy and playful. Like he’s flirting with you. Jimmy would like to make it clear that he is doing anything but that, he’s harassing you. He is ogling you. You are a slutty piece of meat. “I’m not for sale mister.”

“Why you dressed like that then?”

He takes a good look at your face. You’re young—Younger than he has ever looked. Eyes that swallow up your whole entire face, fringed by feathery lashes, that sweet little girl pout.

In the sunlight he sees you in fresco.

When he takes you home he sees you for who you are. This sad little girl with a daddy-shaped hole in her heart.

It makes him like you even more.

You’re splayed flat on his mattress, blinking up at him with big, sad eyes. You know, those kind of eyes. The eyes that girls who end up on the side of milk cartons have. The eyes that foster children and teenage girls on suicide watch have.

“C’mon.” Jimmy cocks his head to the side, he’s got you all figured out. “What’s going on at home?” He squeezes your cheeks until your lips are forced into a pink pout.

“Whath d’yu meanth?” It comes out muffled but he understands well enough.

“I mean, sweetheart, what is it about me—“ Jimmy’s free hand works on unbuckling his belt, you flinch with each clink. Oh, poor thing. He wonders if daddy used it on your tits or cunt. “—That reminds you of daddy?” He lets go of your face to watch it scrunch up in protest and then fall a moment later.

Shyly, quietly, peeking at him through your lashes—“You smell like him.”

“Oh, do I?” Jimmy bumps your nose with his, your eyes are so big there are barely any whites. Your heart is beating so fast he feels it beneath your skin.

“You do…” You trace your fingers along the bridge of his nose. “And you have his nose.” Jimmy’s nose is a pretty regular fucking nose, a little crooked from punches thrown his way.

He hums with this nasty smile on his face, giving you a once over before he asks the nitty-gritty questions. “Where did daddy touch you?”

When you don’t respond, blinking at him stupidly like you are oh-so shocked, Jimmy sighs and slips a hand up your dress. He pushes your thong to the side, plucking your clit so hard you whimper. “Did daddy touch you here?”

You stare at him, bottom lip trembling, unable to move.

“No?” He moves on, hand travelling further up your dress to one of your nice tits. “Was it here? Did daddy touch you like this?” He asks, giving it a firm squeeze, like he’s checking a fruit ripeness.

You are still fucking looking at him with those big, sad eyes. It’s like you want him to feel bad for you. But Jimmy does not care if you have been touched here, there or everywhere.

Jimmy pushes his fingers into your mouth. You don’t bite down because you have done this before. He wets your puffy asshole. “I guess daddy liked to touch you here, huh?” One finger makes it in and you whine deep in the back of your throat. “Don’t blame the guy.”

[mikimakiboo]

CAVE CANEM DRACONTEM

-> beware of the dog dragon

Draz Nightmare is very cute and I've been rambling with @ancha-aus in the notes again so here I am writing yet another fic when I already have three to work on

Please read it because I've been fighting for my life while writing it, just search #spider war and you will see

For those who haven't seen the baby, I doodled him

Ancha also wrote a tiny drabble that is just adorable !!!!! A very nice take on the situation !!! :D

Tw: cute baby dragon, rape allegory, yes I know these two warnings are horrible next to each other but I promise it's not that bad, I just have to warn about it because that's still a trigger, also injuries and reference to past abuse

Finished writing at 4am 👍🏻

Guardians were ancient creatures, created to protect, it wasn't rare for them to be more... creature-like than human-like, though they did have a more human form as to blend in better with the mortals, as to not scare them. The most frequent creatures were dragons, fierce and strong animals spitting fire, fearless and feared by all. Most guardians were dragon breeds.

Nightmare wasn't an exception to the rule. No one had ever seen his dragon form, but it was rumored to be gigantic, so strong it could destroy buildings with one whiplash from its tail, its fire so hot it could melt the stone of the mountains, so large it could eat you whole without needing to chew... needless to say, nobody ever tried to see the dragon, and Nightmare never had to show it to anyone, not even his own gang.

They did try to question him, curious, to beg him to show them his dragon form, but Nightmare always refused, stating that it was too dangerous and he didn't want to hurt them by accident, and, well, Nightmare was known to never lie, so they didn't push it and accepted that they would never see their boss turn into a dragon.

But fate has never been on Nightmare's side, he should have known that by now.

The balance hadn't been doing great these past few weeks, negativity levels were low, giving Dream and his team more power, making Nightmare's team struggle more to create enough negativity for the guardian. He was tired, his reserves were low, he couldn't keep pulling on them, he had to rest, to revert back to his primal form for a while and regain some energy. He didn't want to do that, he didn't want anyone to see the dragon, but if he kept delaying the tranformation he would end up reverting in a place where he wouldn't have been prepared to.

He sighed, standing up, he needed to find a hidden room in his castle where he wouldn't be bothered by anyone, a room where he could hide for a while, hopefully not too long as to not worry his teammates, maybe for a night, then he would turn back into a skeleton and act normal during the day. No one would have to see him.

Having selected and rearranged the room, he quickly made sure nobody was around and reverted to his dragon form, letting his magic wrap him in a flashing purple-ish light to reveal the beast, and laid down on his nest get some hours of rest...

Killer was the last to wake up in the morning, as usual, and went straight to the kitchen where Dust was on his phone drinking his coffee, Horror unloading the dishwasher after having programmed it to run during the night. Cross was most likely on his morning jog, honestly, how he managed to have so much energy this early in the morning was a mystery to everyone in this castle, even Nightmare didn't wake up this early, and God knew how much he hated sleeping in. Speaking of the boss, shouldn't he have been drinking his coffee too ? Killer didn't spot his mug in the sink.

- Nightmare's still sleeping ? He yawned, sitting down on his spot around the small table. Shouldn't we wake him up ?

- I already checked, he's not in his room, he probably slept in his office again, Dust replied without looking away from his phone.

It wasn't unusual for Nightmare to sleep in his office, he did tend pretty often to overwork himself.

- Mh.. I'll go see if he needs anything, Killer declared, getting up again.

As much as their boss wanted them to take care of themselves, he wasn't the best at it, "do what I say, not what I do" kind of deal, so every once in a while they would check up on him and make sure he at least slept and ate. They knew that technically he didn't need either of those, but it never hurt and was always a nice bonus for when negativity in the multiverse was low, like currently, so Killer walked all the way towards the wooden door and knocked.

- Boss ? You're in there ?

He waited, but didn't receive any answer.

- Sleeping on your desk again ? He asked more for himself, I'm coming in.

He grabbed the handle and slowly pushed the door open in case Nightmare was in fact sleeping, not wanting to make too much noise, but found the desk empty of any sleeping skeleton.

- Nightmare ?

He looked around, but the office was definitely empty. Maybe he was in his library ? Killer teleported there as it was all the way across the castle and it was still too early to walk this far in his opinion. He arrived in what surely was the biggest room of the castle and, to his surprise, it was plunged in the darkness, not one light was on, and even if Nightmare did have a better night vision than them he still turned the lights on when he was doing something as to not tire his only good eye, so the fact the room was dark was enough to tell Killer his boss wasn't there either. He teleported back in the kitchen. Cross had come back from his run and was drinking some lemon water.

- Nightmare's not there, he announced, earning three confused looks from his teammates.

- What do you mean he's not there ? Dust asked.

- I mean he's not there, I checked his office and the library and he's not in either of those, and we all know that's, like, the only rooms he spends his time in aside from the living room and his bedroom.

- Maybe he went for a walk ? Cross supposed.

- Cross, you're the only one in this castle going for a walk in the morning, Dust answered deadpanned.

- Sorry for wanting to stay in shape ? Cross frowned.

- Where could he be then... ? Horror asked, redirecting the conversation towards the principle subject: Nightmare.

Killer shrugged, he didn't see where Nightmare could have headed to, he rarely left the universe without them and usually wasn't that far in the castle so they could always reach him rapidly if there was a problem that way. So apart from the rooms he already checked ? Killer had no idea where his boss could have hidden himself, and given his weaker situation at the moment, he hoped it didn't mean anything bad...

- We should look for him... Horror finally decided for all of them, no doubt having concluded the same thing as Killer.

The others nodded and Dust got up, putting his empty cup in the sink to wash later.

- I say we all take one floor and the first to find him calls the others, Cross suggested.

- Works good for me, Killer agreed.

He saw Horror nod and Dust answered with a "sure". After agreeing on which floor everyone would go Killer teleported on the fourth one. They almsot never used that floor, the kitchen and living room they used were on the first floor as well as the training rooms, the library and the nursery, on the second floor were their bedrooms with attached bathrooms and Nightmare's office, and on the third floor were extra storage rooms and an old ball room with small saloons for the majority unused. Which left the fourth floor with its empty rooms and closets and the access to the rooftop. Needless to say, this floor would be quick to look throught.

Killer had opened half of the rooms, and still no sign of his boss, he was starting to think he did went out for a walk at this point. He stopped in front of a closet door, debating if he should open it or not, after all what would Nightmare do in a dusty closet ? But he had nothing to lose anyway, so he opened the door an looked inside. The closet was empty, aside from a pile of covers on the floor, which wouldn't have been that strange if only the covers were dirty, but they seemed clean with no particles of dust on them. Killer frowned, looking at the pile for a few seconds before crounching down and slowly reaching out to move one aside, before freezing when he saw what was underneath...

- Oh.. my.. god... he took out his phone and called the group chat, guys, guys you've gotta come see that, fourth floor, closet in the fifth corridor on the right, hurry.. !

He hung up, took two steps back, and waited for the others to arrive. They didn't take too long, alerted and worried by the call.

- What's wrong !? Did you find Nightmare !? Cross yelled after teleporting.

Killer quickly turned around with a finger in front of his mouth, inquiring them to be silent and come closer. The three shot each other worried looks before doing as told and coming next to Killer, looking inside the closet...

Under the covers was... a cat ? No, it wasn't a cat, thought it was roughly the same size, maybe slightly larger, but only a little. It had black fur, big pointy ears, a short chubby tail and two horns seemingly made of dark wood. It seemed to be asleep...

- What's this... ? Horror asked, but no one could answer.

- It's waking up... ! Dust whisper-screamed, seeing the creature start to move.

They all watched closely, ready to defend themselves if the thing attacked. The creature wiggled a little before yawning and opening its only eye, revealing a bright cyan eyelight. They knew that eyelight... the creature- ... Nightmare.. ? Slowly looked up to them, batting an ear, before sneezing due to the dust, a little blue flame coming out of its his mouth. Killer was the first to make the connection.

- Oh fuck... I think.. It's Nightmare's dragon form...

The small dragon perked his ears and looked up at him, as if recognizing his name. Cross passed out, Horror barely had time to catch him before he hit the ground.

- What.. are we supposed to do... ? Dust asked, not deviating his gaze from the small fluffy dragon.

- I have no idea... Killer admitted, just as lost as the others.

They didn't expect anything like that, it was kind of underwhelming to be honest, they were so sure their boss's dragon form was this gigantic beast he kept describing, only to be met with this fur ball instead ? He was incredibly cute, that was for sure, but they just... didn't expect that. Was it because of the lack of negativity ?

Cross came back to his senses just in time for the dragon to stand up, stretch his small and chubby legs like a cat, and trip over the covers when trying to get down, rolling forward on his back, paws in the air. He had dark purple toe beans. Cross passed out again.

The dragon rolled over on his belly, standing up again, and turned to look at them, sitting down, he seemed to analyze them.

- Uh... hi ? Killer tried with a wave and an awkward smile.

The dragon barked. God he wanted to squeeze him so badly. Was Nightmare still conscious in there or was the dragon a sort of alter-ego ? Did the dragon have Nightmare's memories ? Should they call him Nightmare too ? He did seem to recognize the name, so surely yes.

- It's uh.. Dust began, quite dirty in there, don't you want to go, like, in the living room or something ?

Nightmare looked up at him, slowly stood up, blinked, and sprinted past them.

- No wait come back ! Dust called, trying to grab him but missing.

- Does he remember the castle... ? Horror asked, holding Cross against him.

- I don't know and I don't want to wait for him to get lost ! Killer replied, teleporting in front of the dragon.

Nightmare yelped, stopping abruptly when seeing the skeleton in front of him, he slid on a good two meters before managing to run the other way around, but Dust was quicker than him this time and grabbed him before he could go full speed again. The little dragon squirmed in his hold, growling and spitting small fire balls.

- It's okay, calm down.. ! It's me, I'm not gonna hurt you.. ! Dust tried to reassure the angry dragon he held at arm's length.

Nightmare eventually calmed down, panting, no doubt still tired, and only growled with his ears down on each side of his head. Dust sighed, holding him closer to his chest to better grab him, putting an arm under his back legs.

- Oookay, everything's fine, we're just.. we're gonna go back to the living room and see what we should do.. Dust decided, heading towards the stairs with the others following him.

Everyone walked in silence, Cross having regained his consciousness, and arrived in the living room. Nightmare had stopped growling. Dust stopped in front of the couch.

- Please don't run off, he begged, slowly putting his small cargo down on the mattress.

Nightmare faced the back of the couch for a while before slowly turning around, marking a pause, and jumping from the couch. Killer caught him mid-air.

- Okay air jail for you, he declared keeping him in his arms

Nightmare whined, but didn't try to move. His fur was very soft, Killer noticed.

- So.. What should we do.. ? Horror asked, sitting down on the armchair.

Cross was still standing, staring at the dragon with a mix of awe and incredulity, Killer could understand, he too couldn't believe what he was holding at the moment. Their boss, the greatly feared Nightmare, guardian of negativity, ancient dragon breed, was not bigger than a cat and as fluffy as a plush. Why did he never tell them that ? Killer could understand not telling the multiverse, as it wouldn't have helped his image, but them ? His teammates ? His friends ? He would have thought they were well above the image, above the reputation, that he would have told them the truth. Unless this wasn't his true form but a result of his current weakness, and in that case, he didn't really want to leave the little dragon wandering in the castle on his own and risk getting hurt.

- I don't know... we should probably keep an eye on him ? I mean the castle's big and full of dangerous things and he's, well, not big, plus now's not the perfect time for him to hurt himself.

- Don't you think Nightmare will get mad that we sorta babysat him ? Cross worried.

Killer frowned for a second, not having thought of the possibility that Nightmare would be mad at them for that. He surely would, but would it be that bad ? It wasn't like they were planning on showing him to the world, just keep an eye on him until he transformed back, surely he would understand.

- Yeah well I prefer Nightmare being mad rather than him hurting himself, Dust answered before Killer could.

He simply nodded, stating he agreed with his friend.

- Hm.. you're probably right.. Cross agreed too, I'm gonna go check if I have a sweater or something to keep him warm, it's pretty cold in the castle.

- He's a dragon.. ? Horror asked, confused as to how a dragon would get cold.

- I don't want to risk it, Cross stated as he made his way towards his room.

Horror didn't insist, Cross seemed too determined anyway to get Nightmare in a sweater, and he had to admit the thought of seeing the small dragon in a little sweater was rather cute, so they all waited for the monochromatic skeleton to return. He luckily didn't take too much time.

- I've got one ! I think it was mine when I was a kid ? Anyway it should fit him well, he announced, stepping back into the living room.

Killer looked at the sweater, it was a plain black one, totally Nightmare's style.

- I'll hold him so you can put it on, Killer told him.

He sat on the couch, putting Nightmare on his laps in a sitting position, holding him by the sides, the dragon looked up at him curiously. Cross stood in front of him, rolling the sleeves of the sweater to make it easier to slip on, and gently grabbed the first paw to pass it in the first hole. Nightmare growled, his ears back, as Cross slowly manipulated him.

- It's okay, it's okay, I'm almost done.. he tried to reassure as he passed the sweater around the dragon's head.

Cross put the sweater in place, giving a little pat on Nightmare's head to congratulate him for not moving, before his gaze met his back paws. He poked the purple bean with a finger without thinking and saw Nightmare flinch and stare at his own paw with surprise.

- S-sorry, i-it was too tempting.. ! He apologized, blushing in embarrassment.

Nightmare stared for another second, then stretched his toes.

- ... I'm gonna pass out.

- Again ? Dust snorted.

- Yeah... Cross sighed, but he's so damn cute.. !

Of course, everyone agreed. This little dragon, as surprising and unfitting for Nightmare as he was, was frankly adorable with his little sweater and his big curious eyelight looking around the room. He surely rarely had the opportunity to explore the castle, but even when not knowing his surroundings very well, he didn't seem outwardly scared of them, he was cautious, but he had seemed to recognize them a little, at least enough not to attack. How much of Nightmare's memories did he have ? Killer saw him sniff a few times, did he recognize stuff through scents and that was why he knew who they were ? Because he remembered their odor and knew they were friends ? They would need to ask Nightmare, the skeleton, when he would be back. They would need to ask him a lot of things.

They all turned when they heard a grumble coming from the dragon.

- You're hungry.. ? Horror asked him with a found smile.

Nightmare looked up at him.

- Well, he did skip breakfast, Killer noted.

- What do dragons even eat ? Dust rightfully asked.

- Probably meat ? Cross answered, uncertain, I mean he's a predator so...

- I think we have some ham left... Horror thought, standing up.

He headed to the kitchen, the dragon's gaze following him until he started wiggling to be set free.

- Okay okay I'm putting you down ! Relax ! Killer quickly put him on the ground, not wanting his claws to shred him to pieces.

Nightmare sprinted to catch up to the big skeleton who had stopped to wait for his tiny boss. He chuckled when seeing him arrive and went to the fridge. The dragon went straight into the first shelf, searching for something interesting as he could smell the different foods. He unfortunately got grabbed before he could bit into a sausage and saw the door of the fridge closing in front of his eye, making him whine. He rapidly forgot about the fridge once Horror put him on a chair and handed him a piece of ham that he quickly bit into to eat with a little "nom" noise. Another piece followed after the first one and the tiny dragon happily enjoyed a full slice of ham for breakfast.

The others eventually joined them in the kitchen, wanting to see the dragon eat and just see the dragon in general as it would probably be the one and only time they would see him. The dragon looked at them for a minute before jumping down from his chair and going to explore the kitchen more in depth. He sniffed the cabinets, sniffed the table, the chairs, sniffed the trash can, frowned, sniffed the pedal, stepped on it, and jumped when the lid opened, running to hide behind the closest pair of legs he could find: Dust's. The skeleton bent down to lift him up.

- It's okay buddy, the trashcan won't hurt you, he laughed, petting the dragon's head.

Nightmare let him do so, slightly growling at the scary trashcan still.

- We're gonna go back to the living room, okay ? Dust reassured, leaving the kitchen with the two other skeletons, Horror staying to start preparing dinner as the search took a while and it was already almost noon.

Dust sat on the couch, keeping Nightmare on his laps.

- Can I pet him ? Cross asked, almost having stars in his eyes.

Dust looked up at him.

- Sure ? I mean, if he lets you.

Cross quickly nodded, crounching down in front of the dragon to let him sniff his hand in a silent demand for authorization. Nightmare looked at him, and gently headbutted his hand.

- Ooooh my God.. ! Cross exclaimed in a whisper, tearing up.

He gently scratched the little head, petting behind the ears, under the chin, ... a low rumble started to get heard.

- Oh shit.. guys he's purring.. ! Dust realized, feeling the small vibrations on his legs.

- He is ?! Killer put a hand on Nightmare's back.

He could feel the vibrations as he pat his back, near the tail as he would do with a cat. The little dragon purred louder, his eye closed. Soon he had six hands petting him. He started knitting on Dust's laps, feeling perfectly content with the attention.

- Ouch, Dust flinched, okay, sharp claws.

Killer snorted.

- You'll get used to it.

The petting session lasted until it was time for dinner, Cross and Killer went to help set up the table and Dust carefully moved Nightmare from his legs to the couch.

- We'll be right back in an instant, okay ? You can stay on the couch, he informed with a last pat on the head.

Dinner was simple, a steak with some vegetables on the side, but they all happily ate it. Horror always managed to make even the simplest meals taste delicious. Killer felt something against his leg, looking down he saw the tiny dragon standing up against his chair.

- Yeah ? Need anything ? He asked him.

The dragon looked at him, crounched down, seemed to calculate something, and jumped on his laps.

- Oh ! Well, okay then, guess you can sleep here, he chuckled.

Nightmare turned around to face the table, looking at the plate in front of him. He squinted.

- Comfortable ? Killer asked.

Nightmare only turned an ear, already focused on his plan. He slowly bent forward, eye fixated on his target, and swiftly snatched the steak in the plate before jumping off of Killer's laps and running out of the room, steak in his mouth.

- Wait, no ! Killer exclaimed, trying to grab him before he ran off, my steak !

He quickly got up to chase after the dragon, hearing the others laugh at his predicament, but the little thief was faster than him and already hid himself to eat the content of his robbery. Killer eventually had to give up and return to the table where the others weren't finish laughing.

By the time Nightmare reappeared, they had all done eating and cleaning the table. Killer glared at him.

- You stole my steak, he accused, fists on his hips.

The dragon looked up at him before headbutting his leg.

- Mowww, of course I forgive you ! Killer cooed, bending down, come here !

He lifted him up, bringing him back to the couch for another session of petting and scratching that lasted as long as Nightmare wanted it to, with the only breaks being snack breaks. The little dragon was particularly greedy and would eat just any snacks they would hand him. They had opted for a bag of dried meat, something simple they were mostly sure wouldn't hurt his stomach. They wouldn't want their tiny dragon to get sick.

They stayed with him all afternoon, letting him take naps on their jackets, the poor thing still being quite tired from the lack of negativity, and decided they would sleep I the living room this night, not wanting to leave the dragon alone.

They had brought some covers and extra pillows, Nightmare was on the couch, in a nest made of their jackets.

Cross woke up when a flash suddenly lit up the room, grumbling, he looked up to see what it was. He saw Nightmare, the skeleton, slowly rise from the couch, he seemed tensed, and in the silence of the night he could hear him hyperventilating.

- Night... ? He called in a whisper as to not wake the others up.

Nightmare's gaze shot in his direction, his pupil reduced to a trembling slit, before he backed up in a hurry, tripped on the covers and fell backward. The noise made Horror move.

- What's happening... ? He mumbled.

Nightmare quickly looked at him before rapidly teleporting away. On the second floor, the door of his room slammed shut in an loud echo, waking the two remaining skeletons up.

- W-what was that.. ? Killer asked.

- I.. Cross began, it was Nightmare, he's.. he's awake and he didn't seem very happy to see us... he briefly explained.

The air around them became colder as they all exchanged worried looks, feeling the ambient negativity in the castle thickening.

- I.. think we may have made a mistake... Dust said out loud what they were all starting to think.

- Did he look mad ? Killer asked Cross.

Cross thought for a moment.

- No... more like... scared ?

- Scared ? Why would he be scared ?

Cross shrugged, getting up, he didn't like seeing the look in his boss's eye, it wasn't right, he didn't want him to be scared of them. Why was he even scared ?

- Do you think it has to do with the dragon ? Dust questioned. I mean, he always told us he was dangerous and all, maybe he got scared that he hurt us ?

Killer frowned.

- But we're all fine, If he had hurt us he would have seen it when transforming back.

- Maybe we weren't supposed to see the dragon ?

They looked at Cross, thinking about it, it made sense as Nightmare always seemed reticent to show them his primal form.

- He was hiding... Horror finally said, looking down, a feeling of guilt emerging in his soul, and we still took him...

The others stayed silent for a moment, letting the realization settle in. Cross sat back on the couch.

- He.. He was hiding... Killer began, he was hiding and didn't want to be seen, and we still searched him and took him out of his safe spot... we... we litteraly took advantage of his current weakness to grab him and he tried to fly but we still held him... God he couldn't even talk... ! He couldn't defend himself and we forced him to be here when he was hiding for a reason... !

Killer held his head in his hands after his monolog, so deeply ashamed of himself, the other three weren't doing better. Cross sniffled.

- You're making it sound like we raped him... he whined, feeling heavy with guilt.

For a few minutes only Cross's wheeping disturbed the silence of the castle, until Killer abruptly stood up.

- We need to apologize, he declared, heading to the stairs.

Dust got up to grab his arm, stopping him.

- He probably doesn't want to be bothered right now, we should wait a moment for him to calm down before trying anything.

Killer shrugged, making Dust let go of his arm.

- I'm not gonna come in, I'm not stupid, I'm just gonna knock and apologize.

He had to, he couldn't just wait until morning, he had to let Nightmare know that he was sorry, that they were all sorry, that they didn't think and acted stupid and regretted it. He arrived in front of the door, his hand was shaking when he lifted his arm to knock.

- Boss, you're here.. ?

Nightmare flinched when he heard the knock and the voice, backing down again, his back on the wall opposed to the door, sitting on the ground. He was shaking. What did they want ? What have they done ? Why must they have to see him like that ? To see this weak and pathetic form ? The one thing he had wished to remain a secret, why did they have to open this closet ?

Nightmare was shaking, a hand covering his mouth to try and muffle his heavy breathing. He felt scared, humiliated, confused, naked almost, like all of the walls and layers he had built over time just fell down and left him in a cloud of ashes.

They had seen him, they had seen the dragon, they had seen this little creature so ridiculously small, so contemptible, so useless, they had seen the real him, the him that wasn't fierce, that wasn't big nor intimidating, the him that wasn't threatening. They had seen the truth. Now what would they do ? Would they laugh ? Would they mock him for being this pathetic ? For giving birth to such a big lie when reality was this disappointing ? Would they tell the world about him ? Would they leave him ? Would they be disgusted by such a pathetic leader ? Would they lose all respect they had for him, respect that had been build on a lie ? Would he ever be able to gain their respect again ? What if they never wanted to hear of him again ?

His soul was beating fast in his ribcage, giving him the impression it was about to explode, he heard the drumming sound in his head, making everything else sound muffled. He barely heard Killer on the other side of the door.

- We're sorry Nightmare... we really are... we should have never tried to touch you and we should have just left you alone... we really didn't think and we understand that you're mad at us, you don't have to come out if you're not ready to, but just know that we are sorry... we were jerks, we didn't mean to hurt you...

Nightmare listened, trying to focus on anything else than the tears forming in his eye. Was he honest ? Was Killer honest ? He wanted to believe it, he couldn't feel his emotions, his magic wasn't recovered enough and he was in too big of a panic state to direct it properly anyway.

He wanted to believe him so bad, to believe it was only an accident, that maybe they could still pretend as if nothing happened, but a part of him kept yelling it was a lure. It kept telling him to not take words for proof, that sooner or later they would realize he's truly pathetic and the minute the dragon wouldn't amuse them anymore they would leave. He would lose everything then. He didn't want to, he didn't want to lose them.

- Take all the time you need, we will be waiting for you when you feel ready...

He heard the footsteps go away, and finally let out a sob, choking on air. What was he supposed to do now ? He couldn't go to them anymore, he didn't want to face their gaze just yet, they would surely have questions and he didn't want to answer any of those. He couldn't go to anyone, nobody knew about his secret. He was alone, like before, like he always had been, alone to face his fears.

He should have been more careful, lock himself somewhere else, make sure nobody could reach him. He should have known it, he should have known he couldn't trust his own house, he couldn't even trust his mother's shadow when he was a kid, why would that be any different now ?

He felt stupid, he wanted to hide away and never come out, let everyone forget about him and rot in a corner where no one would see him ever again...

He stayed locked in his room for hours, which turned into a few days, he didn't count how many exactly but Horror kept leaving food platters by his door. He could hear them take turn sitting down and talking to him, telling him they were sorry, that they should have waited for him instead of forcibly taking the dragon, that they were worried about him and to please come out, they wanted to see him. His silence only worried then more, they wouldn't enter by force but if he could at least talk to them, so they would know he's fine... Nightmare felt guilty, he didn't like scaring them that way, he didn't like how ashamed of themselves they all sounded, but he just didn't have the courage to open the door. The mere thought of being the center of attention knowing what happened filled him with shame and embarrassment and he felt his soul burn.

But he had to go out. He could barely stay awake, his magic was so low, the negativity level in the multiverse only kept receding the longer he was inactive, he needed a raid, even a small one, to boost himself enough not to tranform again. And he needed them. He was to weak to go alone. Maybe after this raid he would feel a little better and wouldn't need them, but for now it wasn't the case.

He slowly got up from his bed, feeling his legs shaking under his weight, and opened his door after a long hesitation. Cross was here, standing guard, he jumped when he heard the noise and froze when seeing the skeleton. Judging by his expression, Nightmare must have looked awful. Days without taking care of yourself usually did that.

- Nightmare.. ? Are.. are you feeling okay... ? I-I mean it's a dumb question but-

- We're going on a raid... Nightmare interrupted him, his voice more hoarse than he would have wished.

Cross straightened his stance, an old habit of the soldier receiving orders.

- O-of course ! I'll go fetch the others ! Pl-please don't lock yourself back.. ! He begged before going on his quest.

Nightmare looked at him go, letting out a shaky breath.

The others arrived rapidly, and though none of them knew what to say they all looked at him with a mix of worry and relief to see him out of his room.

- Boss we- Killer began before being interrupted.

- We're going, make it fast..

They all exchanged a glance, but nobody intervened. Nightmare motioned to Cross to open a portal, he couldn't do it himself this time. The soldier did as told, and they all crossed it, Nightmare going in last. He shivered when feeling the cold air of snowdin's forest hit him, embracing himself to try and keep his little body warmth as the others were already in movement. Only Dust stayed near him. He was about to tell him to join the others but the hoodied skeleton talked first.

- It's good to see you out of your room, Night, we were all worried.. we know what we did wasn't right, and we really want to make it up to you... we care about you, 'kay ? Try not to forget that... he said before teleporting away to the others.

Nightmare stiffened when he mentioned what happened, he didn't want to think about it again, but he couldn't avoid it for all eternity. He watched them from afar, not taking part in the activity, and focused on absorbing as much negativity as possible, he had to admit they were doing a particularly good job, though it would take way more than that for him to recover all of his strength.

He let them cause chaos, coming only a little closer to get a better taste of the negativity, ignoring their worried glances each time he moved. Were they really this worried about him ?

He heard a portal open, but Cross was far from him, too far for him to hear anything, and Cross wouldn't make a portal without informing him first, which meant the portal wasn't his, and the sudden sharp pain he felt in his shoulder told him exactly who it was: Dream and his team had arrived, and he just got hit with an arrow.

He dislodged the arrow before turning, slowly, now wasn't the time, he was still too weak to fight, and if he engaged in a battle now his magic would tire out rapidly and force him to transform back, which was not an option. He took a step back, and saw his brother frown. Oh how pathetic he must have looked for Dream to spot something was wrong. But it didn't stop the guardian from attacking a second time.

The arrow got blocked by a blade, Cross was in front of him in a defensive stance, a quick glance around confirmed the others were already fighting Ink and Blue, trying to maintain them as far as possible from him.

It wasn't the first time they would protect him, but this time felt different for some reason. It was absurd, Nightmare knew there were no differences, they acted as they always acted before, but his mind couldn't help but scream at him, telling him they only protected him because they knew how weak he really was. Were they going to tell everyone about that ? Were they going to tell Dream ? Dream always tried to get him to tranform, wanting to see his dragon form, as a confirmation whether it really changed or not, were they going to tell him that he never became that gigantic beast he always described ? Were they going to reveal everything ? No, no they wouldn't, he trusted them not to, he really did... but what if they made a mistake ? What if they said it by accident and Dream heard ? What then ? Would he try even more to tire him ? Would he attack with more fierce ? Would the news spread across the multiverse ? Would he be mocked by everyone again ? What would he do if his lie crumbled, if his only defense fell down ? Where would he hide ? Could he even hide anymore ? He didn't have anywhere to go aside from his castle, but could he hide here ? Or would the castle be attacked if the people knew there wasn't any real threat ? Would he lose his home again ? Would he lose his only safe place ? Would he lose his friends... ?

He almost fell when he felt someone push him forward, a gasp of surprise leaving him as he was abruptly brought back to reality: a portal to the castle was open in front of him, Horror was behind him forcing him to move, Dust was maintaining the stars at distance with sharp bones and blasters, Killer was halfway through the portal, and Cross was next to it looking at him worryingly.

- Boss we're retreating ! Did you not hear me call you ?! He grabbed his arm to pull him in the portal.

The others rapidly followed, and Cross closed the path before anyone else could enter. They were back in the living room.

- Are you okay 'Mare ? Killer asked, coming to him to check his shoulder, you zoned out pretty hard out there... is... do you want to talk about it... ?

They were all looking at him, and he didn't know what to say. He didn't hear them call him, he didn't see Cross opening the portal and only reacted when Horror pushed him. He could have gotten them hurt because his thoughts wouldn't give him a break, and now they were worried about him again. He felt awful, he couldn't protect them in his dragon form and he could have gotten them hurt in his skeletal form. He shouldn't be with them.

- I... I'm fine, I just... I need... some time, alone... he mumbled, taking a few steps back.

He saw Horror begin to reach for him and dodged his hand, going past him to hurry to his room, not wanting to feel their gaze on him any longer. Seriously what would they think of him now ? He had sunken so low...

He didn't want to be a burden, it was really the last thing he ever wanted, especially to them, but he couldn't help but fear they would end up seeing him as one, as someone they had to protect instead of someone they could count on. He had tried to persuade himself that they would never do that, that he trusted them and that they were loyal, but these thoughts kept coming back and they wouldn't let him breath.

And now, because of these polluted thoughts, he was alone in an AU, one week after their raid, to go on a solo negativity run. He could do it himself, he didn't need them, he didn't need their protection, he didn't need them getting hurt for his sake. He would be fine, it would just be a small run, as he always did...

Killer sighed, sitting back up on the couch. Nightmare had been in his room the whole week and barely came out to eat while speaking as little as possible. He was worried about him, they all were, they didn't like that he didn't say anything. They weren't expecting a speech, but if only he could tell them how he felt so they could find a proper way to apologize instead of staying silent. All they wanted was to know what they could do for him, what he wanted, did he want them to never talk about it again ? Did he want them to leave ? Did he want them to swear their loyalty a new time ? They didn't know what he would want and they didn't want to make a mistake again by doing something wrong or inappropriate.

He was about to get up when the sound of a teleportation made him turn his head just in time to see Nightmare crashing on the floor against the armchair, panting heavily, bloody cuts everywhere on his body and arrows in his back.

- Nightmare ?! He exclaimed in chock.

He jumped up, but before he could even rush to his boss's side a blinding purple light erupted from the skeleton's body, making him put his arms in front of his face. When he put them down once the light disappeared, Nightmare wasn't there anymore and in his place laid the tiny dragon, shaking, his fur sticky with blood. The arrows were on the floor next to him, having fallen out in the transformation.

Killer approached slowly, his hands shaking too. Once the dragon spotted him he started growling, his ears flat against his neck.

- It's okay bud, I'm not gonna hurt you... he tried to reassure the dragon as he stopped moving.

The little creature just kept growling, trying to crawl away from him, shaking with all of his members.

- Kills ? I heard you scream, you okay ? Dust asked, arriving in the living room.

He rapidly spotted Nightmare and froze, seeing how the dragon's gaze locked on him.

- What happened ? Why is he hurt ? And why is he a dragon again ?

Killer tried to think, not knowing just what to do, the dragon was scared and hurt and he wanted to help him, but what if they made the same mistake as the first time ? What if they touched the dragon again and Nightmare didn't like that ?

- I- I don't know, I was on the couch and he popped out of nowhere, hurt, and he just transformed... he quickly explained, I think it's a form he takes when he's too weakened ?

The dragon tried to stand up, only to whine in pain and fall on his side again.

- We'll see that later, he needs help. Dust declared, approaching again.

Nightmare growled louder, baring his teeth as a blue light appeared in his mouth.

- It's okay, it's us, we're going to help you.. Dust began but was interrupted by a small fireball.

He jumped to the side to dodge it, noting how the dragon coughed but still prepared another ball. Dust kneeled, looking at Nightmare. Killer didn't move, his whole being was telling him to rush to his side and heal him but that would just make him panic even more and hurt himself. He let Dust try to appease the situation.

- It's okay Night, we just want to help... we'll heal those wounds and then we'll leave you alone... he talked in a soft tone.

The dragon curled further into a ball, breathing out little sparks of blue fire, he looked terrified, his one eyelight fixated on Dust. Did that mean Nightmare didn't trust them anymore ? Did that mean he was scared of them ? Killer's soul clenched at the thought.

- It's okay buddy, it's okay... he kept murmuring as he slowly approached his hand.

The dragon growled louder but didn't make any move to attack, looking back and forth between Dust and his hand until it was just in front of his face. He stared for a while before coming just a little closer, enough to sniff the fingers. Dust didn't move, letting the dragon sniff him and watching him slowly back away again, having stopped growling.

- Kills, go grab the med kit please, and warn the others, he commanded after a few seconds.

Killer nodded, quickly teleporting to the nursery and leaving Dust with Nightmare. The dragon flinched when Killer dissapeared, growling again.

- It's okay, he went to grab stuff to help you, everything's fine. He reassured.

When Killer appeared again he took the plastic case and opened it in front of him to let the dragon see its countenance, while Killer left once more to warn the two remaining skeletons that their boss was hurt and back in his dragon form, and that they should go slowly with him.

Dust took the items he needed one by one, handing each one to the dragon to let him sniff it before putting it down next to him.

- I'm gonna get closer, okay ? He warned.

He slowly approached, staying on the ground as to prevent dominating the dragon with his height. He saw him tense, a fireball starting to form in his mouth before he began coughing again, leaving him whining and shaking.

- Easy bud, easy... it's gonna sting a little, but I promise you'll feel better afterward..

He put disinfectant on a clean cloth and slowly started to clean the drying blood on the dragon's fur, clenching his teeth each time he whined in pain when Dust would clean the wounds.

- I know buddy, I know.. I don't like it either, I'm sorry... he apologized.

He didn't like hurting him, but he had to do it, he had to clean the cuts and bandage them up, he couldn't leave him like that, he just hoped Nightmare would understand...

- I'm almost done...

He finished wrapping the bandages around his paws and abdomen, careful not to tie them too tight, and backed up again. The dragon was shaking, Dust had to take his little sweater off as it was bloody and ripped, and was now curled on the cold stoned floor.

- I brought a cover...

Dust flinched, turning his head around, he didn't notice Cross arriving behind him.

- Is he okay... ? He asked with a shaky voice.

- Yeah... a little shaken up, but he'll be fine... he reassured his friend.

Cross sighed in relief, handing the thick plaid to him. Dust took it and installed it right next to Nightmare, making it so he could crawl inside and be covered.

The dragon stared at them then at the little improvised nest, sniffing the air before slowly, carefully, taking a shaky step towards it. Dust held the entrance opened for him, letting him take his time to crawl in and lay down in a comfortable position before putting the cover down. Only his head poked out. Dust wanted to give him a few pats, to scratch his ear and tell him he had been very brave not moving while he healed him, but he didn't want to risk humiliating Nightmare again, so he didn't.

Horror arrived with a bowl in his hands, Killer came to find him and told him about the situation, so he had decided to prepare something to eat for the little guy, something easy he wouldn't need to chew. He had opted for some plain biscuits broken and mixed with water to make a sort of porridge. He put the bowl down in front of the nest.

- Here, eat a little... he encouraged him, backing down.

Nightmare looked up at him before slowly straightening enough to bend forward and slowly licking the mixture, his little purple tongue looking pale.

They all stayed there, watching over the little dragon as he slept in his small nest. He looked so much smaller like that...

They didn't dare go away, but they didn't dare touch him either, all painfully aware that the last time they did that things only went downhill afterwards and that was why they were at this point now. They always made sure that at least one of them would remain relatively close in case there was a problem, and they all slept in the living room. The dragon kept watching them, not moving from his nest for the first two days, then slowly trying to walk a little, never going too far before coming back to the cover. He would sometimes sit down and look at them with what they could only describe as a pleading look, then go back to lay down when seeing they didn't move to give him what he wanted. What did he want ? They didn't know for sure, they could only assume it was for them to make the pain go away, but they couldn't really do that.

It lasted a whole week, a week of hearing the dragon cry and seeing him so sad at all time, they didn't know what to do. Cross was sitting in the couch when Nightmare got up from his nest and walked over to him, still slow, but already faster than the first days. The dragon came to him and gently headbutted his leg to gain his attention. Cross looked down.

- What's wrong ? Do you need anything ?

He glanced at his bowl, it was still half full, and his bandages were clean. The dragon whined, looking at the soldier.

- I'm sorry, I don't know how to help more...

It pained him to see the small dragon like that and being powerless to make him feel better. Nightmare lifted a paw, tapping it against the couch.

- You want to get on the couch ? He asked.

Nightmare kept looking at him, his paw against the side of the mattress.

- O-Okay, just, please don't move and be careful not to fall...

Cross bent down, very slowly grabbing the dragon by his chest and back paws to put him on the couch next to him.

- Oookay here you go...

Nightmare didn't struggle, waiting to be put down before turning and making his way towards the soldier.

- Where are you going ? Cross confusedly asked.

The dragon didn't stop, carefully climbing Cross's laps to lay down, resting his head on his paws with a little sigh. Cross froze, not daring to move. Was it a good sign ? Nightmare was the one to make the decision, did that mean it was safe ? Could he pet him without it being a bad move ? He wasn't sure, but seeing the dragon so sad was unbearable, and so he gently put a hand on his back, petting him ever so carefully. The little dragon didn't move, closing his eye, a soft purr starting to get heard. Cross was so close to crying, so close to break down completely, he was so worried about Nightmare, so scared to have ruined their relationship, he just wished he understood they meant no harm, and even now they just wanted to help him...

Nightmare didn't move from the couch for the night, rolled up against an arm rest buried under Horror's jacket, he decided he was done sleeping on the ground. They let him do so. He woke up in the morning, before everyone else. He had taken his skeletal form back and kept the jacket around his shoulders.

He looked at them sleeping. They took care of him, they healed him and kept apologizing to the dragon, not forcing any contact, letting him come to them. It... meant a lot.

When they woke up, they quickly spotted that he was back pretty rapidly as their first move in the morning was always check on him. They didn't talk however, letting him begin, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by saying something they shouldn't have when Nightmare made the effort to stay and not lock himself back in his room.

- Go on, I know you have questions... he finally said.

Killer was the first to talk.

- Why didn't you tell us about the dragon... ?

Nightmare looked at him for a moment before looking down, searching for what to say, he sighed; he owed them the truth.

- I was scared of your reaction... my... my dragon form is small, the species is just like that, and... people used that to their advantage... it's not that I didn't trust you, I just... I felt safer with a lie to protect myself...

They listened to him, nodding in understanding.

- But who would hurt such a small creature... ? Cross asked, horrified by the thought of the dragon getting hurt.

Nightmare shivered, feeling some old memories coming back to the surface.

- He's small, easy to kick and hold down... and his fur and antlers are expensive... don't ask me how I know that, please... he answered honestly.

Cross let out a gasp, not wanting to believe such atrocities could have been committed against the small dragon.

- We won't let anyone hurt you like that again, ever, Dust claimed with a resigned tone.

Nightmare looked at him. Horror agreed.

- We'll protect you, promise... no one... will touch you... he confirmed.

Nightmare let the words sink in for a moment, before feeling himself smile a little and nod.

- Thanks...

- We're sorry for what we did, we didn't mean any harm, we would never... Dust apologized again.

- I know... he chuckled, you'll have to apologize to the dragon too, he wasn't happy with the lack of attention this week..

The little commentary helped appease the tension in the air and they all could breath and talk like they all used to talk together, spending the whole morning just calmly discussing on the couches...

Nightmare would need time to get used to letting his dragon form out more often, but his friends seemed to genuinely like him very much, and the dragon liked them just as much as he liked them, so maybe it was for the greater good...

- Does he have a name ?! Killer exclaimed.

- I... don't think so ? Nightmare replied.

He never wondered if the dragon had a name of his own or if they shared the same. Not that it ever mattered.

- Can I call him Lord Noot ?! He proposed excitedly.

- No you may not, Nightmare refused.

Killer whined with a pouty face, making the others laugh.

Yeah, maybe it wouldn't be that bad...