send rough touch for a starter || accepting! - @warblest

30-  My muse breaks your muse’s arm.

sally was done talking, and she was done being forgiving. done coddling him, like a mother would her child. an unwanted child. when she hit him, she hit him hard. a blood covered hammer, worn after decades of constant use and abuse, the sound of cracked bones and muffled cries filling the woman’s ears with every, miscalculated blow to his restrained arm. sally’s work was messy, careless, just like everything else about her. but she didn’t miss, and then she did it again, hammer against fractured bones, mindless of the fact that she would regret this one later. not tonight, but one day she would, made to sob by the heavy burden of having mauled an innocent boy with the sole purpose of relieving her own sorrow.

but she did, after all, warn him against staying - had tried to scare him away from her side. this one was on him, and sally reminded herself of that with every strike of her arm, with every tear that she shed all over kurt’s open wounds. this one was on him, it wasn’t her fault. it was never her fault.