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ohbo-ohno · 4 months

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merry christmas @luminousbeings-crudematter, here's the ghoap x reader purge au! (a week and a half after you posted about it... im so sorry)

5.7k, mind the tags <3

cw: ROUGH NONCONSENUAL SEX in all caps, pwp, under-prepared/painful anal sex, some pretty intense fear stuff, people covered in blood and referenced violence (it's a purge au lol)

Your hands tremble where they’re tucked close to your chest, blood sticky and thick between each finger. You feel coated in it, like someone has taken a brush and gone over every inch of your skin, painted you in red.

It’s in your mouth. You can feel the warmth of it on your tongue, the taste of iron sickening. You tell yourself that maybe you bit your tongue, that it’s not really your ex Phil’s blood coating your teeth.

Your thin pajamas are hardly any protection against the chill of the night air, less so with how soaked they are. The stench of piss is heavy in the air, a mixture of yours and his, but you don’t have time to go back inside and change.

You’re running on pure instinct, an animal urge deep in your mind insisting you run. You’d always thought you’d have more of a flight instinct than fight. Despite how you feel now, how your legs itch to carry you as far away as possible, the cooling corpse left behind tells you the truth.

You stumble into the wall, a wave of nausea knocking you off balance. There’s a trail of red left behind as you use one hand to balance yourself, the other held protectively over your heart.

Your security system - cheap, but usually enough to let you sleep through the Purge - is completely destroyed. There’s no chance of it protecting you, and the bust in windows will let anyone on the streets see your vulnerability. You’ll never feel safe there, and you can’t shake the need to run.

There’s no chance of any of your neighbors helping you. There’s some neighborly camaraderie between your floor-mates, but that all disappears on Purge night. It’s every man for himself, every year, without fail. You know that. You even think the same as them, pretend no one else exists when that siren goes off every year.

But now, shaking and terrified, you wish you could knock on a door and see it open. Hear the security system disengage and see a familiar face, beg for help and thank them on your knees.

It’s a nice fantasy. Reality is less kind, seeing you shake with a dawning chill as you manage to shoulder open the door to the stairwell, cringing when it slams behind you.

The cold cement is rough on your feet, and a distant part of yourself worries about slipping - your feet are slick with blood, and you can hear yourself leaving a trail of footsteps. You don’t try to slow down, holding tight to the metal railing and shuffling down the stairs.

You’re halfway down the first of four flights when the door on the next floor opens, a large figure stepping into the stairwell. Your stumble to a stop before you even register that you’re not alone anymore, and you’re backpedaling before you even fully realize.

He’s big, his face covered in a red skull mask. From your vantage point you can see his hair is shaved into a mohawk, and he’s shirtless with only a pair of gray sweatpants on.

He’s drenched in blood. Even more than you, and you feel like you’re drowning in it. If you’re painted in blood, someone took a bucket and dumped it on this man. You can hardly see any unmarked skin, and you wonder for a split-second if the skull was once white.

There’s an audible grin in his voice when he calls up to you. “Look’it you, bonnie thing. You tryin’ to run?” He steps to the side, leaving a wide open space for you to pass him to the next staircase. You’re frozen where you’re leant against the railing, hardly able to breathe. “C’mon, give it a shot.”

You listen, scrabbling further back and all but throwing yourself up the stairs on all fours. You’re only the need to get away, an innate fear that tells you to get as far from the blood-soaked man as quickly as possible. You swear you hear him laugh as you launch yourself up the next flight, panting already.

There’s no safety found in going up though, as hardly two flights later you’re tugged to a stop by your instincts alone.

Standing above you, hardly six feet away and blocking the door he must’ve just come from, is another giant. This one fully clothed and with a white skull mask, somehow bigger and more intimidating than the man you can hear coming up the stairs behind you. You can’t see even an inch of skin, black gloves on his hands and mean black combat boots reaching nearly his knees.

There’s a moment, before the chase ends, where you contemplate jumping over the railing. There’s no going up, there’s no going back, and you can’t even begin to imagine what these two men want with you. The only thing that keeps you from throwing yourself over is the fear that you wouldn’t die on impact, that you’d be left injured and even more vulnerable to these men.

You’re not sure you could’ve tried that plan had you even wanted to, because the moment it forms fully in your mind a pair of thick arms wraps around you, and a heavy weight forces you to the ground.

You cry out at the sudden shove, palms scraped raw against the cement. The man behind you covers your body completely - his knees bracket yours, his hands rest on either side of your head, and there’s no part of the back of you that isn’t cloaked in him.

He doesn’t say anything as he ruts against you, the blood from his chest soaking through your tank top and making you cringe further away. You can’t stop the quiet stream of whimpers as you try to shrink into the stairs, try to get away from the beast behind you. He doesn’t care, only drops more of his weight onto you and pantomines fucking you.

You can feel the outline of his cock through his pants, as thin as the clothes both of you are wearing are. If you weren’t wearing your shorts, if he tugged the waistband of his pants down, he’d be inside of you.

The thought makes you tear up, makes you want to slam your head back and try to knee him in the balls, makes you want to fight.

But all your fight is gone. It died with Phil and your security system, and you’re left only with a weight in your bones that makes you wish you could sink through the floor.

The hard plastic of the skull mask presses to the sensitive skin of your cheek, biting into the fat there. You can see the gleam of bright blue eyes in the sockets, the creases at the edges that tell you he’s smiling.

“You gonna fuck her here for the first time?” The white skull asks, voice deep enough that you hardly register the words. Your eyes are jerked to his form and it makes you shiver to see him sitting on the top of the staircase you’re pinned to, legs spread wide as he stares down at you with a cigarette between lips exposed by the tilted mask. You feel like a sacrifice, thrown to the stairs of a temple for a god.

“Can I?” The man over your shoulder pants, accent roughened from his own movements. You can’t tell if the wetness between your thighs is piss, blood, or an even worse option. You bite your tongue to hold back a whine, wince at the burst of iron in your mouth.

The man above you tilts his head, smoking blown into the air. “You fuck her here, you won’t get to go again on the roof. Don’t need you gettin’ spoiled.”

Your nails dig into the concrete, folding beneath the pressure as you shake beneath the red skulled man. He whines over you, like a petulant kid being told no for the first time, but goes still against you. That alone has you blinking open damp eyelashes, watching him from the corner of your eyes.

“Alright, I’ll wait,” he pants, chin resting on your soldier. “Give ye some time to get ready, huh lass? It’ll be easier for ye then. Just think about what we’ll do to ye, how good it’ll feel to get properly fucked, yeah?”

You sob when he grinds one final time against you, your hips pushed into the harsh edge of the stairs.

He’s dragging you up after that, hardly letting either of you stand fully before shoving you up the stairs. You can’t catch your balance and let out a small cry as you fall back to your knees, mouth twisting in pain at the unforgiving surface against your naked knees.

You flinch when a gloved hand grasps your chin, tugging up until you’re forced to look towards the white skull above you.

You’ve landed between his feet, a boot on either side of your body, and if you’d moved forward even another half foot, you’d have face planted into his lap.

Your heart skips a beat when you realize you’re making eye contact with him. The dark brown of his pupils blends almost seamlessly with what must be black paint smeared around his eye sockets, and the only reason you even realize you’re locked in a staring contest is the way the light reflects off the whites of his eyes.

You don’t have time to try and move away from him on your own (or, more accurately, to throw yourself backwards and pray you didn’t break something falling down the stairs) before a pair of bare hands are shoving you up from beneath the armpits, making you almost squeal as you jerk in the direction you’re forced.

“Up, c’mon,” red skull grunts, hands flitting from one part of your exposed skin to the next as he herds you upstairs. “Need to get inside ye, kitty, fuckin’ walk.”

You sob as you stumble up the stairs, the top of your foot scraping painfully against the concrete. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see White stand to follow you two, but you’re nearly sent sprawling again when Red only shoves you all the more harshly.

“Pl-please,” you manage to gasp, shoulder roughly bouncing off the wall. A glance up tells you you’re two full flights away from the rooftop. “Please, I don’t know what you want, b-but…” You can hardly talk around the sobs floating in your throat, choking you. “Please, please don’t hurt me.”

Red groans as he tugs you nearly off balance, the sound echoing off the walls and full of what you can only describe as hunger.

“Fuck, haven’t even gotten ye naked yet ‘n yer already beggin. Knew ye’d be perfect for us.”

You can hardly see through the tears in your eyes, the rest of the trip up to the roof all gray with streaks of red and black. You can’t focus enough to try and get away again, can’t get enough of your panic under control to fucking think.

The red skull catches you when you almost go careening over the rails, one broad hand catching you by the chest and gripping.

He groans, you flinch. “Fuck, cannae wait to get my mouth on these.” He pinches with his whole hand, your breast going sharp with pain on every fingertip. You whine, flinching further against his chest and trying to shrink away.

“Keep movin’, Soap.”

“Aye,” Red - Soap - pants, and you can practically hear the saliva gathered in his mouth when he swallows. “C’mon, kitty, only a little further.”

The blood on your hands has dried by the time White is shouldering open the door to the roof, your hands itching and the red flaking away every time your fingers twitch. The night air is a cold shock, just jarring enough to tug some reason back into your brain.

Soap doesn’t stop his herding until you’re far enough from the door for his partner to block it with an old metal chair, the back tucked under the door handle. You tuck your hands beneath your arms, shoulders curled in in an attempt to preserve warmth.

You wouldn’t have expected the night to be so cold. Half of the street is burning - flames painting the sky, giving you the exact opposite impression of the biting chill you feel. There are dozens of people in the streets, carrying guns and axes and chainsaws and all sorts of other weapons you can’t see. You feel bile rise in your throat when you realize the dark pools reflecting flames in the street are blood, not water.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Soap grumbles, and you don’t have any time to think before his mouth is pressed forcefully against yours, tongue shoving at your lips.

Your eyes are wide open, unlike his, and you make a shocked sound high in your throat at the sight of his maskless face. You can’t really see what he looks like with the way he’s pressed against you, but it’s a shock nonetheless.

You keep your lips pressed tightly together, no matter how much his tongue prods and tries to force its way into your mouth. You feel more than hear him laugh against you after a few long seconds, and one of his massive paws comes up to cradle your jaw pointer finger against your temple and thumb under your chin.

He stops trying to force himself between your lips after almost a minute, instead shifting to just… licking your lips. His tongue paints wide across your mouth, soaking you in his saliva. He’s almost scarily determined in the way he accosts you, his grip tight on your face as his other hand shifts to bruise your hip, covering what feels like the entire bottom-half of your face in his spit. You can’t help but grimace, trying to pull away from him, but he’s pressed too close.

“Can’t fuckin’ wait to be in ye,” he pants, breath warm and wet against your cheeks. “I know yer gonna squeeze me just right, bonnie, can tell already.”

“Please,” you say, voice weak. “Please, don’t, I don’t want you to-”

His groan is guttural. “Ye wanna know a secret, bonnie?” His voice is quiet between the two of you, bright blue eyes boring deep into yours when he pulls back. To your endless frustration, he’s handsome.

He leans close, whispering so low that you almost have to strain to hear hum. “That’s what makes you fun. Wouldnae be draggin’ you up here if ye wanted it, could get you any other night of the year for that. But it’s Purge night, lass… so you go ahead and fight as much as ye want, yeah? Just makes it more fun for me.”

You can’t help but sob at that, fat tears streaming down your face as he maneuvers you. You feel disconnected from your body as he forces you down to the ground, your soft belly left exposed when he pushes up your tank-top to cup one of your breasts, a whimper crawling out of your throat at the way the gravel presses into you.

You feel his breathing grow heavier as his hands move down to your shorts, shoving them off your hips and leaving them loose around your calves, completely disregarding your pitiful attempts at crawling away.

“Poor thing, been stuck in these the whole time? They fuckin’ reek, bonnie, no offense. That his piss or yours?”

You shake your head against the ground, face twisted up in acute humiliation. For some stupid reason you don’t want to even begin exploring, you find it necessary to whisper, “H-his.”

Soap hums, and you curse yourself inwardly when the humiliation is slightly alleviated.

“Get ‘em off her,” the white mask says, and you can’t help but jump at the sound of his voice. He’s sat on a large box only a few feet away, leaning back and relaxing, looking for all the world like he’s settled in for his favorite show. “Don’t want anythin’ of his touching her now.”

The sound Soap makes at that is animalistic, a snarl coming from deep in his chest that makes you flinch as he all but tears the shorts from your body. You wince at the wet splat of them landing several feet away.

You force your forehead into the gravel when your knees are forced wide, a rough hand and another pair of knees spreading you.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no…” you can’t help but beg, voice trembling. “Please- god, please don’t-”

“Fuck,” he moans over your shoulder. “Yeah, keep goin’, lass.”

You sob at the feeling of warm skin against your bared behind, his thick length slotting itself smoothly between the slightly spread lips of your pussy. Your eyes squeeze shut and it takes all your willpower not to keep begging.

He slides himself back and forth against you for a few long breaths, using online the slight slickness from a mixture of piss and blood to get some friction. But to your immense horror, it only takes a few moments for the sensual movement against your clit to have your body preparing itself.

The slight wetness at your hole might be a betrayal, but it’s not nearly enough to ease the way when he pushes inside of you with no warning.

You nearly scream, a high sound of pure panic and pain when it feels like you’re being split in two. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear someone laugh. Right above you, Soap groans.

He’s buried himself to the hilt inside you before the pain has had any time at all to fade, and he’s fucking into you hardly a second after that.

Every thrust forces a grunt from your throat, the entire weight of him slammed into your back each time his balls smack against your clit. Your face is twisted up in a grimace, your whole body racked with pain that your assaulter couldn’t care less about.

“Fuck, kitty. Yer squeezin’ me so good, such a good girl, shit-! Knew you’d be ti-tight as a vice, fuck, but didn’t know you’d be squeezin’ me so tight I can hardly move.”

Your whine is plaintive, his moan is filled with pleasure.

“Yer gettin’ so wet for me, bonnie. Ye like this, huh? Bet you like it just as much as I do, gettin’ thrown around and takin’ advantage of. That it, kitty? Ye like being forced?”

You sob and shake your head against the ground, crying all the more when sharp pebbles dig into your cheeks.

“Naw, I think ye do. Why else’d you be- fuck, squeezin’ me like that?”

“Cause- because-” you try, but you can’t get the breath in to get more than a single word out.

“Huh? Cause- cause-?” Soap mocks, his voice pitching up to mimic you as he plants himself deep inside you, grinding his hips against the meat of your ass. “C’mon, kitty, tell me why. Go on.”

“Cause I want you to stop!” You cry, balled up fist slamming into the gravel. You can’t help but whine ow when the sharp rocks poke into your skin, and Soap’s laugh shakes your entire body.

“Good,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear. “Squirm all ye want, lass. I love it when you fight.”

You can do nothing but go limp beneath him as he begins fucking you again, his pace somehow faster and even more relentless. It’s a small mercy that there’s no fight left in you, that you can’t give him any more pleasure.

It certainly doesn’t stop him, though. Despite the fact that you’re doing your best impression of a dead fish, Soap pants and moans against your shoulder like you’re the single best thing he’s ever slept with. His cock is painfully hard inside of you, and his pace never once slows.

He’s loud when he finally comes, the sound of his orgasm clear enough that you know he’s thrown his head back to the sky. You can only whimper as he rolls his hips against you, working the last spurts of cum out of his cock and into your unwilling body.

“Fuck,” he sighs in your ear, sounding far more satisfied than he has any right to. “Good girl, kitty. You were perfect.”

You sniffle beneath him when he slowly pulls out, both of you groaning at the sensation. He gives you an almost perfunctory pat on the ass, and stands to walk away. You manage to open your eyes and focus just in time to see him slide to the ground in front of his partner, leaning against the wall.

“Yer turn,” he sighs. “Warmed her up good for you, Lt.”

Despite the hatred boiling in your gut, you can do nothing but lay limp on the ground and watch as his partner stands, cracking his neck and moving towards your prone form.

You want to run, you want to fight, but you can only watch the executioner come closer and wait for the metaphorical axe to fall.

He crouches by your head first, grasping your chin and pulling up until your torso tries to follow to alleviate the tension. He stares deep into your eyes for a long moment, and you find that it’s impossible to even tell where his pupils are with no real lighting. You feel like you’re truly looking into the empty eye sockets of a skull, no man and no mercy to be found.

“You’ll call me Ghost when I fuck you,” he rumbles, thumb stroking over the scrapes on your cheek. He doesn’t wait for a response, simply hauls you up by the shoulder and turns you onto your back.

He’s rough with your limbs as he shoves your legs together and up, his forearm banding across the backs of both of your knees and holding them to your chest. You whimper and wiggles as best you can, but the bruising blow against your thigh is enough to have you gasping and stilling.

“Don’t fight,” he warns, and you feel his gloved fingers running up the crack of you. “You’re hurtin’ enough as it is, and I’m not gonna help. You wanna make it worse too?”

You shake your head, unsure if he can even see you through your legs. He doesn’t respond, and hums when he swipes two fingers through the liquid gathered between your lips.

You whine when those fingers move further down, a fresh panic creeping in when he presses around your back hole.

“You should be glad Soap fucked you so good,” Ghost drawls. “He gave you all the lube you’re gonna get.”

You feel like an animal when you whine again, unsure of how to even begin trying to speak. You yelp when a thick finger slides into your hole, completely disregarding any resistance and forcing its way in until it’s buried to the knuckle. Your cries go ignored.

“Quit squirmin’,” Ghost scolds, pulling his finger out to smack your ass before shoving two back in. “You’re fine.”

You’re not, you’re terrified and hurting and upset, but none of those things matter when Ghost only coaxes more of your slick and Soap’s spend to your unused whole so there’s less resistance.

The only blessing you have is the fact that you can’t see more than the outline of Ghost’s figure with the way he’s got you positioned. You try your best to close your eyes and float into disassociation, and while you can’t fully manage it, the fact that you can’t see his face - his mask - helps you distance yourself from what’s happening.

The moment you realize this is of course the moment it stops being true.

He seems to decide you’re ready after scissoring three fingers inside of you, hefting himself up so that he looms more fully over you. You can only whine as you feel the movements of him unbuckling his belt, feel the weight of him slap against your slightly spread cheeks.

Fresh tears fall past your lashes as you stare up into the fathomless darkness that are Ghost’s eyes. There’s nothing there, just a cold empty skull prepared to ruin you.

You don’t even have the energy to beg.

The stretch of him inside your ass is five times worse than Soap was. There’s no natural lubrication, and nowhere near enough synthetic lube either. Your hole feels like it’s on fire, the stretch white hot as he gives you no mercy.

You’re not even fully sure what you’re babbling as he slowly sinks to the root, only aware of the pain and fear and panic sitting heavy in your heart. You fear you’ll choke on your tears, head jerking back and forth.

He sighs when he bottoms out, heavy barrel chest forcing your knees past your shoulders. Your hips strain, just another pain from the endless abuse.

“There,” he grunts, patting your thigh when you go limp from it all. “Stay nice and still now, just need a place to dump my cum.”

Upsettingly enough, that hurts. The idea that you could mean nothing to this man is somehow worse than the thought of him having some other twisted feelings for you, your hormone-addled mind deeply insulted.

His thrusts are long and slow, each one pulling nearly completely out before slamming back in. The sound of your skin slapping together is embarrassingly sexual, and a distant part of you is aware enough to pray that no one nearby had heard your screams and cries.

Ghost is near silent as he fucks you, the opposite of Soap. You can only hear the occasional grunt when you squeeze him because he’s inches away from your face - you can even feel the occasional gusts of breath when his hips start working a little faster.

There’s nothing you can do but lay limply beneath him and take it, just a vehicle for his pleasure. You almost manage to float away, to pretend none of this is happening or has ever happened, when his free hand moves from your thigh to the top of your cunt.

You nearly squeal when he rubs your clit, the smooth leath gliding over your slick bud. Your eyes fly wide open, back arching as much as you can with three hundred pounds of man holding you down. The loud laugh from several feet away only makes you writhe more.

“Make her squirt, Lt!” Soap shouts, his voice carefree.

“Shut it, Johnny,” Ghost grunts, voice roughened with pleasure. You don’t even have time to focus on the fact that he’s just told you Johnny’s name, far too preoccupied with the tidal wave of pleasure rushing towards you.

You have no idea why it happens. You’re never quick to come - almost every single partner of yours has complained about you taking so long to get off, it’s been an Issue in several relationships.

So it makes absolutely no sense that after hardly a minute of rough circles against your clit, you’re clenching down on the cock in your ass and moaning loudly as your orgasm overtakes you.

The natural clench of your body only makes the pain worse, a sharp spike of it running up your cunt and making your moan shift into more pained sounds. Ghost only moans in tandem above you, his thrusts becoming slightly less even as he lets your orgasm coax out his own.

You sob when you feel his cum paint your insides.

Unlike Johnny, Ghost doesn’t pull out after he comes. He lets your legs fall limp on either side of him, just barely managing to catch them for you before you slam your ankles to the ground. He leans his torso over yours, elbows resting on either side of your shoulders while you do nothing but wait beneath him.

He’s sweat off some of the makeup. This close, you can see hints of pale skin in the sockets of the mask. There’s nothing to read in his eyes, but that flash of skin tells you he’s still a man.

You swallow, trying to work moisture back into your dry mouth, and whisper, “Will… will you let me go now?”

You know it’s more likely he’ll kill you. It’s what you can only imagine happened to all those bodies in the streets, what you know happens to tens of thousands of women every year.

So it’s not a surprise when he doesn’t answer you verbally, instead covering your mouth with his palm and pinching your nose shut with his fingers.

Your eyes flutter shut after a moment, lungs tightening already, and all you can hope is that suffocation is a quick death.

———————————————————————

You wake, gasping, in a dark room.

You’re lurching forward before you’re even fully aware that you’re awake, coughing loudly and gasping when it feels like your throat is bleeding.

“Oh, poor thing,” you hear a familiar accented voice coo, and a moment later there’s a warm hand patting your back. “Yer alright, deep breaths.”

You jerk back from Soap - Johnny - as soon as your coughing is under control, scrambling back on your palms and staring at him with wide eyes. He only grins at you, looking for all the world like any other normal man in his sweater and sweatpants.

He got changed at some point - these pants are clean. He’s not wearing his mask either, and you’re struck dumb by how non threatening he manages to look.

He also changed your clothes - or Ghost did, maybe. You try to cover your chest with one hand, but there’s no hiding the fact that you’re completely naked.

Johnny only laughs at your attempted modesty. “Been starin’ at them for hours, lass. Ye’ve got nothin’ to hide.”

That’s… horrifying, and does absolutely nothing to calm you down.

It’s then that Ghost rises from a chair, stepping forward and making you aware of his presence. “Calm down, Johnny. We don’t want her panickin’ this early.”

Soap fully pouts, tilting his head at you before glancing up at his partner. “I haven’t even done anythin’, Ghost. Was just sayin’ hi, tha’s all.”

Ghost snorts, gripping Johnny’s mohawk and tugging back until the other man sprawls back on his ass. “You know how you are, pup. Give your kitty some space.”

Johnny listens, crossing one leg beneath him and bending the other close to his chest, looking casual as can be. Meanwhile your heartbeat only gets faster, and you wince when you happen to lean too far one direction and feel a throbbing reminder of what these men did to you.

Ghost steps forward again, crouching just out of arm's reach. You realize he’s not wearing the same skull mask as before, but a balaclava with a printed skull pattern instead. His eye sockets are unpainted, and you’re shocked by how such little things make him look so much more human.

“You can calm down. Long as you behave, nothin’ much worse’ll happen to you.”

You find yourself almost comically not-comforted by that, and can do nothing more than stare at him with wide eyes.

“Where…” Your voice cracks, so you swallow and start again. “Where am I?”

It’s Johnny who speaks up. “Our place. We finally brought ye home with us, kitty.”

The world feels like it’s slowed around you, and your eyes drag from one kidnapper to the other. You have to swallow again to work any moisture into your bone-dry mouth.

“Is the Purge over?”

The creases at the corner of Ghost’s eyes are painfully obvious with how pale his skin is, and you shudder at the thought of him smiling.

“Been over for… what, five hours now? Somethin’ like that.”

You can’t fight the tremble in your voice now. “Then… then you have to let me go.”

Ghost’s head tilts, the creases get deeper. “Do I?”

You nod with as much conviction as you can - which is almost none. “You can’t keep me here. You’re breaking the law.”

Ghost leans closer on the balls of feet and you lean further back, your spine pressing into the wall behind you. “Are we now? And who do you think will stop us, pet?”

“The- the police. Someone will report me missing, they’ll come looking.”

“Oh? And you think they’ll come here?”

You nod as best you can, and jump when Ghost laughs. It’s low and quiet, only a few beats, but it’s like gasoline thrown on the small fire of panic in your mind.

“You have no idea where you even are, and you think they’ll find you? I hate to break it to you doll, but you’ll be lucky if they look for you for a week. You have any idea how many people go missin’ after the Purge?”

Your breath is quickening. “So that’s it? You’re just going to… going to keep me here, forever? What are you even going to do?”

His laugh is sharper, meaner this time. “We’re gonna do a whole lot more of what we did last night, pet. Keep you as a little cocksleeve, a pretty thing tucked in the basement just for our entertainment. Ain’t that right, Johnny?”

You manage to tear your eyes away to look at Soap and see that he’s nearly salivating, having inched closer and closer and shifted so he’s knelt behind Ghost. There’s a feral spark in his eyes that has every hair on your body standing straight up.

“Yeah, tha’s right. Don’t worry, lass, we’ll make sure yer never lonely. Might even stay the night with you, cuddle up in the winter. Bet ye could keep our cocks nice and toasty in the cold, huh? Gonna let us use ye as a little heater?”

“A heater, a mattress, a fleshlight… your future’s lookin’ bright, sweetheart,” Ghost drawls, mockery dripping heavily from the cruel words.

Your eyes dart back and forth between the two men and their predatory stares, your heart racing against your ribcage.

It’s not a conscious choice for you to launch yourself towards them, reaching out and clawing your sharp nails down Soap’s face with a feral scream that tears your throat to shreds.

Even as Ghost throws you off and forces you to the ground, you vow to fight these men to the end. You’ll kill them both if you have to, leave them dead and wander however many miles it is back to your apartment.

Ghost only laughs when you shout this in his face, and you scream as you lunge forward, just managing to catch his masked chin between your teeth and bite.

With your fight instinct back in full force, you’re ready to make their lives hell.

#lumi im SORRY hand on the bible i could not tell you why this took me so long #it's pwp. it's pure smut. there is no justifiable reason for this taking a week #i literally have FOUR fucking docs of purge au's rn lmao like when i tell you i tried to write this SO MANY TIMES it was just not happening #ghoap x reader #bo writes #purge au #how do i tag this to get people to see it but not to get people complaining about dark fic to me #...i don't #oh well. special treat for you guys lol

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girl-named-matty · 7 months

Text

Why I don't like Solomon Sallow

(I worked this out on a google docs first and that has some screenshots i couldn't fit into here so after this post imma post some screenshots of the document) SO HI EVERYONE! You'll probably remember what I posted yesterday about dissecting the scene where you first go to Feldcroft in order to find out just a few things about Solomon upfront, so here it is! Buckle up because it is a lot.

Why I dislike Solomon Sallow, by me. 💕 Based on the scene where you first arrive in Feldcroft to visit Anne with Sebastian.

So I’ve just finished writing this scene for my fanfiction and going over the dialogue so carefully has made me realize just how much from this scene only we can see why Solomon was just a horrible person in general–if it wasn’t already obvious by now. I’ve been wanting to dissect scenes from the game for quite a while now and I think this presents a perfect opportunity to do it!

First, we’re going to start out when MC first arrives in Feldcroft and Sebastian is standing up on a ‘watch-tower’ to keep an eye on things since Feldcroft hasn’t been safe with all the goblins around. And then he states this:

Now, the goblins being around Rookwood castle isn’t Solomon’s fault. But being a resident of Feldcroft and being an ex-Auror, one would assume that he’d at least check it out, correct? Nope. Because Sebastian goes on to say this as well:

Now at the time, everyone thinks that Anne has been cursed by Goblins and not Rookwood, even Solomon does. But even with Solomon thinking the goblins had cursed Anne, he refuses to confront them even though we know he could since two fifteen-year-olds (Sebastian and MC) could easily defend themselves against said goblins.

And this leads us into our second segment.

We are now at the Sallow residence in Feldcroft and Sebastian walks in first, going to surprise Anne. Everything is happy and Anne is extremely excited to see Sebastian as shown in this picture:

Sebastian then pulls out a Shrivelfig, something he picked up in Hogsmeade for Anne.

Now from that screenshot alone, we can’t really tell if Anne just really likes shrivelfigs or if she thought it could be the cure–but from what happens next I can safely assume she may have thought it was some form of cure.

Because as shown right here–SOLOMON JUST YOINKS IT OUT OF SEBASTIAN’S HAND.

Solomon doesn’t give Anne and Sebastian even a moment to have a proper reunion, he doesn’t say hello to Sebastian, or greet MC, he doesn’t wait until MC is out of the house to have a conversation with Sebastian like a civil person would if a guest were around. In fact, he doesn’t do anything civilly, he starts an argument with Sebastian RIGHT there and then over a shrivelfig!

He looks at Sebastian and tells him that Shrivelfigs cannot reverse the curse. But we have no background to if they’ve ever even tried to do something with a shrivelfig to even help ease Anne’s pain. Since Hogwarts Legacy came out, the wiki for shrivelfigs has stated that they cannot reverse curses but it does have “medicinal properties' which could’ve at least perhaps eased Anne’s pain for even just a bit.

But what is even worse is that when he says “Nothing can” he looks DIRECTLY AT ANNE!

Why would he look directly at Anne while saying nothing can reverse the curse she has? Probably because he wants her to believe that she cannot be cured. He’s tired of trying to find one and so if Anne isn’t complaining about not having a cure, he doesn’t have to hear about it from anyone other than Sebastian. I’ve had conversations with friends about this and have a few theories about this situation but that’s for a different post. Then Solomon proceeds to destroy the Shrivelfig right in front of Sebastian and Anne.

Now, this is possibly a bit of a stretch but Sebastian got that for Anne and not Solomon so he’s basically just destroying a gift that Sebastian took the time to get for her right in front of the both of them which is a pretty crappy move in my opinion.

Then he turns to leave, yet again not even taking the time to say hello to Sebastian or MC and of course Sebastian, feeling like he needs to defend himself, says that they haven’t tried everything–which is technically correct. But then of course, instead of Solomon civilly telling Sebastian that there is no cure–It turns into another shouting match.

He gets up in Sebastian’s face and shouts at him, right in front of Anne and MC. Wow Solomon! I wonder why your nephew hates you.

Yes I understand that Sebastian is a stubborn boy but at this point in time, he’s a fifteen-year-old boy who is desperate to cure his twin sister! Before this, all he had was Anne and Ominis because his parents were dead and his uncle truly never cared. Let’s say MC had never come into the mix and Anne died, all he would have was Ominis. This is an act of Sebastian trying to preserve the last of the people who love him.

And then, unfortunately, the effects of the curse start to pain Anne.

The first thing they do is look over but instead of Solomon immediately going to Anne’s aid, he has to look at Sebastian and blame him for Anne’s pain.

Then he goes over to Anne to aid her and Sebastian tries to apologize for the argument that Solomon started.

Then instead of letting Sebastian apologize, Solomon tells Sebastian to leave.

He doesn’t even give Sebastian a chance. He’s fed up and doesn’t even want his nephew around. My whole guess is that he’s truly never wanted Sebastian around and this was all just an excuse. This leads us into our third segment. Sebastian storms out of the house and tells MC that he needs a moment alone if they are alright with it. Then MC will go talk to Solomon and Anne and for this, we’re going to speak to Solomon first. You go up and you greet Solomon, everything seems normal. Solomon apologizes for Sebastian’s behavior claiming “he doesn’t know when to stop” which is true in some cases.

When he says this, this is not a fact, and we have to keep that in mind. When he says nothing can be done for her–that’s his opinion because HE doesn’t think anything can be done for her. Which opinions are okay to have, but using your opinions to discourage others is usually not the way you want to use them.

Now after this, MC can say two different things. If you pick the option “Surely there’s something” your MC will say “It could be that you’ve not yet discovered a cure.” so in turn, slightly disagreeing with Solomon’s statement that nothing can be done but not downright disagreeing with him out loud.

But again, instead of Solomon holding a civil conversation, he starts to accuse MC of thinking they know more than the healers at St. Mungo's.

Now did MC ever claim to know better than the trained healers? NO! So why is he assuming this? It’s because he’s incapable of having a civil conversation regarding the curse if anyone disagrees with him in the slightest. We see this several more times throughout the game!

After this, your MC will say “Perhaps the healers don't know everything, sir.” which is in turn–correct because as skilled as they are, no one knows everything. And keep in mind that MC is calling Solomon “sir” being respectful while Solomon is not, he is shouting and spouting off. MC then follows up with “Sebastian is single-mindedly focused on finding a way to help his sister. If there is a cure, he will find it.” Then Solomon responds with this.

Yet again going back to the fact that he could easily confront the goblins but he never does. You have a dialogue choice here but both of them really just lead back to this statement.

He claims giving Anne hope is cruel because he doesn’t want her to have hope that she can be cured but in my opinion—not giving her hope is just as cruel! Imagine telling your niece, the child you are supposed to be raising, that there is nothing that could possibly cure her and so she is stuck feeling immense pain for the rest of her possibly short life even when there are still chances of finding a cure! I’m not sure about anyone else, but that sounds pretty cruel to me. I can see why you’d want to keep her comfortable but its still keeping her comfortable for her impending death when there’s still a chance she can be cured.

Then, as if he’s been acting like a good guardian, Solomon plays this card.

He says he knows what's best for both of the twins–which is clearly not true seeing how he treats Sebastian. Then he goes to say “my stubborn brother’s children” which always makes me think that Solomon had something against his brother–a rivalry possibly–that led them into fighting a lot and so Solomon takes his anger for his late brother out onto his brother's children. Which, keep in mind, is never okay.

Sebastian is a target of Solomon’s constant attacks because Sebastian acts like his dad. And that’s just the nature of a young boy to act like their father. Also, to Solomon, are you sure your brother was the stubborn one here…?

Solomon follows up with this and then this.

THIS ^^ is probably the only sensible thing he says during the entire game. Yes, Sebastian doesn’t know when to stop sometimes but I wonder why he doesn’t stop. It’s because he’s constantly being verbally attacked and Anne is the LAST bit of family he has that actually loves him! Of course he isn’t going to stop–he’s trying to save the life of his twin sister!

Our fourth segment leads us into our conversation with Anne–which gives us more perspective since we get all three perspectives of the Sallows who were involved in this.

MC enters the house and apologizes for earlier and Anne–being the sweet girl she is, reassures MC that it is not their fault for the pain she has.

It’s clear she’s struggling but she always makes sure to make it clear that it is not anyone’s fault when her pain comes and goes. Meaning Solomon was wrong by blaming Sebastian for Anne’s pain during the argument.

MC and Anne go on to talk about Anne being at Hogwarts and how she misses it but she says she wouldn’t mind being in Feldcroft all the time if it weren’t so dreary. That meaning, the goblin attacks and of course, her uncle and brother fighting all the time.

She says this but the way she words it makes me think a few things. She mentions that Solomon is fighting with Sebastian whenever he’s home. Which this could be a stretch but that makes me believe that Solomon starts the majority of the arguments that they are in. As seen earlier, Solomon started this one as well instead of letting the scene play out before he jumped in. Not only does Solomon starting arguments affect Sebastian, it affects Anne too!

MC will then say “Sebastian mentioned something about your uncle being an ex-Auror but refusing to go after Ranrok’s Loyalists'' and while I’m not an uncle, I am an aunt and if someone cursed my niece especially while she was in my care–I’d be burning down the goblin encampment while demanding answers. Then MC says “I must say, I wasn’t prepared for him to be as angry as he was''

Then Anne goes to defend her uncle, which is understandable.

BUUUUUT then we get into Anne now thinking she cannot be cured, saying that she can feel it.

Now I am not about to argue with the victim of the curse for saying she doesn’t think she can be cured–after all, she is the one suffering. But from what we saw with Solomon looking directly at Anne while saying “nothing can” referring to nothing can cure her, how much of her disbelief about her being able to be cured is actually coming from Solomon that she has just accepted and isn’t actually her own belief?

After that, you finish up your conversation with Anne and go to find Sebastian which leads us into our fifth and final segment.

Now, Sebastian does the same thing Solomon does and apologizes to MC for the way he acted–which means they are sort of the two sides to the same coin when it comes to how others perceive them. Both feel like they need to apologize for something that the other has done–even when only one of them is actually in the wrong. You have two options for dialogue here. You can either choose “He was out of line” which will lead you into saying “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting him to be so angry.” or you can chose “He’s trying to do what’s right” which I honestly have no idea what that option will lead you to say because I’ve never chosen it and I went through nine different playthroughs I found on YouTube and nobody chose that option so I assume people agree that he was out of line. (If anyone could tell me what MC says if you chose the option “He’s trying to do what’s right”, that’d be lovely)

SO if you chose “He was out of line” which leads to you saying the part that you weren’t expecting him to be so angry, Sebastian will reply "He's always angry. He's been angry since my parents died." and "After Anne was hurt, he only grew worse. It's as though he blames me somehow. Always calling me 'my father's son' as if its an insult." (I apologize for the lack of screenshots here, I wrote this out on a google docs sheet before this and tumblr only allows me to have 30 pictures in post so screenshots of the doc are coming soon!) This brings us back to what I said earlier about Solomon deflecting his angry feelings from his late brother onto the twins and he most likely targets Sebastian the most because Sebastian acts the most like his father. Sebastian will go on to say “I’m the one trying to help her. He’s simply given up.” to which MC will reply, “Both Anne and your uncle seem to be genuinely convinced that nothing more can be done for her.”

To that, Sebastian replies that he refuses to believe that, that Anne’s pain is more than physical, that it’s changed her entirely, and that he misses her and is going to get his sister back.

After that you’ll go and explore the plateau that Anne was cursed on yada yada and you’ll get a bit of background on that.

So–what's the conclusion of all of this?

Solomon is just a horrible person.

He immediately starts an argument with Sebastian in front of Anne and MC over a shrivelfig, no less. And I don’t know about you but it's always so awkward when a friend gets yelled at by their parents/guardian and it's pretty embarrassing when it happens to you and you're the one being shouted at.

He’s either subconsciously or consciously trying to convince Anne that she cannot be cured by telling her “Nothing can” and by always screaming at Sebastian that nothing can cure her. When he shouts, it's scary, so obviously Anne isn’t going to want to speak up for herself and get screamed at.

He verbally abuses Sebastian–and probably Anne in the past as well. Now I’ve seen theories that there is possible physical abuse which I have also had theories about but it’s never been proven so I’m not gonna accuse him of such a crime BUT there is obvious evidence that he has no problem verbally abusing Sebastian at all by screaming, shouting and yada yada.

He’s taking his anger that he has for his late brother out on Sebastian and Anne, which is never okay. Children are never responsible for the sins of the father–and we don’t even know if their father did do anything wrong! From how Solomon acts, he could’ve totally been in the wrong for whatever arguments they had. And Sebastian is a target because he acts the most like his father.

And although this isn’t in this scene, Solomon has no problem attacking two 15/16-year-olds (who are still legally children) in the catacomb. So the conclusion is that Solomon Sallow is not a good person and he has no problem showing it. And that you can see so much just from this one scene that probably lasts only a few minutes.

I rest my case.

Taglist: @boomingsmile @biographyofanadult @kit-kair @operation-pez @morelikeravenbore @findingtruenorth23 @follesexual @epicsweetness712 @mcyt-trash-can @sallowgauntsupremacy @kukukha-sanctuary

#told y'all it was long #and I have more to say abt this guy too lol #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hl #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #mc #Anne Sallow #Solomon sallow #Hogwarts legacy theories #Hogwarts Legacy theory #Solomon Sallow slander club #Im sorry char but it had to be done #if anyone has anything to say please voice it in the comments!#I love hearing feedback!

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