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unfriedough · 2 years

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Hello, I would like some angsty crack romance scenario/headcanon between Zuko and the reader. The character herself is a short, mute,non-bender with people constantly underestimating her even the Gaang sometimes. Even though she could kick people's butts even as a non-bender. She is very sensitive when people call her cute or any kind of nickname really. So my idea is she gets captured by Zuko in hopes to get information from her because he underestimates her. She communicates using sign language but he can't understand and calls Uncle Iroh to decipher. He starts asking questions and she gives witty and sarcastic answers in sign language as Uncle Iroh laughs and tells Zuko whats she saying. You can add whatever to this.

And I know I already requested this but I just wanted to add a bit more detail sorry.

‘Back to you’- Zuko x female!reader

Masterlist <3

An: HIYA! So,,,, i did this as a mix (which might just be what you meant lol) of headcannons/scenarios. Also, since reader’s like imprisoned and stuff, I didn’t feel the need to mention her height! Thank you for adding more detail btw! It helps alot <3 AND THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST OFC !!! CAN YOU TELL I GOT CARRIED AWAY? 2.7K WORDS!!

Summary:

You’re mute, and you get kidnapped by zuko when gathering materials. When on his ship, you realise maybe there’s more to him than what meets the eye.

Warnings: ITALICS WRITTEN IN ‘this’ FORMAT IS READER SIGNING!!, sparring/fighting, ANGST!!!!!!!!!

Getting captured by Zuko wasn’t something that was meant to happen, obviously. You were ambushed by his ship staff when collecting materials from the woods - a job you insisted on completing on your own. What an idea that was.

You put up a good fight, but unfortunately, there were too many firebenders against just the one non-bender. They did definitely seem surprised that you were as resilient and powerful as you were, a byproduct of Zuko measuring your strength based off of looks soley. You definitely left a few cuts and bruises.

Eventually, one of the benders knocked you out, a blunt object hitting your head with too much force for you to take. The rest was a blur, though it’s obvious they just carried you back to their ship.

You awoke in a dark cell, illuminated by a single crack in the door. Bars split the room in half, making an even smaller space - not that you could move around anywhere. You looked to your arms, finding chains that bound you to the rusted metal wall. You sighed, stretching your unbound legs around, pins and needles becoming more and more prominent. Suddenly, the door slammed open, and you shut your eyes tightly - partly from the sudden jumpscare, and partly from the amount of dust flying into your eyes. You returned your legs back to their original place - much closer to you.

“Finally, you’re awake.” a gravelly voice spoke, one you didn’t recognise.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you turned to the source, finding who you can only assume to be the infamous Zuko - one you’ve heard plenty of tales about, but never had the displeasure of meeting. Well, that was until today.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered, sitting down behind the rusty bars.

“We can do this easily and quickly, as long as you cooperate.”

‘And what if I don’t?’ you raised your brows as you signed, amused, and not at all threatened.

His eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

You looked to the side awkwardly, signalling an ‘x’ with your hands, before making a talking motion, hopefully he would get the hint.

He sighed, dropping his head into his hand, “Just my luck.”

You laughed, leaning your head against the wall.

“So, you speak in sign.” you nodded, and he thought for a moment. “My uncle knows sign!” his face lit up, and he scrambled to his feet, quickly evacuating the claustrophobia inducing space.

Not too long after, he returned with a man many decades older than him in hand. The older fellow had a gentle look, and a very welcoming smile. They sat back down, and you sat a little straighter.

“Hello.” The older gentleman said, “My name is Iroh, and this is my nephew, Prince Zuko.”

You were just about to sign ‘pleasure’ but you realised, no, it wasn’t in fact a pleasure, they held you captive. You chose to simply introduce yourself.

‘y/n,’

“Her name is Yn.” he interpreted, and you winked at zuko, who seemed to get more mad.

“That’s not important!” he lashed out. “What do you know about the avatar?”

‘He’s a bald kid with an arrow on his head. He airbends too.’

Iroh laughed, not expecting such a statement, struggling to translate to the teenager.

“She- she said he’s a bald kid with an arrow on his head.”

“We need real information! What am I supposed to do with that! Tell me where he’s hiding!”

You paused, blinking in surprise, before licking your lips, and signing, ‘How should I know? I’m here, and he’s somewhere that’s not here.’ you paused, looking at the old man this time, ‘Your nephew needs to relax. Like, desperately.’

“How should she know, she’s here and he’s somewhere that’s not here,” He smiled, “And I agree, he does need to calm down.”

The prince blew a fire into your cage, which you barely dodged. You immediately stood up, tugging against the old chains in an effort to break them.

‘Watch it loser! Do you not have any manners?! As a prince, you should know better. If I was a firebender, I’d match the scar on the other side, you no good doing dunderhead! Useless! This is why you can’t catch a 12 year old. TWELVE.’

Iroh stared at you, wide eyed and speechless.

“What’d she say?”

…

“I’m not even gonna try.”

Zuko and Iroh called it off for the day, deciding to return the next in another attempt for information out of you.

The prince thought long and hard about each question, the sort of answers he would need, and how to get you to cooperate. It infuriated him that you couldn’t speak, mainly because he felt excluded and lonely when you and his uncle spoke. Though, Iroh always made an effort to include him.

The sun finally rose, you could tell by the marching upstairs, and very loud yells from the teenager. Being only recently hit, added to being on a boat with no clue of the time, you started to get a headache - which may or may not have affected your patience.

Much to your dismay, the pair returned.

“Good morning, Yn.”

‘Is it really though?’

“I guess not,” Iroh laughed, and you did too.

Zuko’s eyes looked between you two, a scowl on his face.

“She said ‘is it really tho?’”

“Oh.”

They sat down awkwardly, and your eyes remained trained on Zuko, his mannerisms seemingly getting more tense by each passing second.

“I’m gonna ask you again. Where. Is. The. Avatar.”

‘Dude. I don’t even know what time it is, in what universe would I know?’

“I don’t even know what time it is, in what universe would I know?” Iroh repeated out loud.

“In this universe. Didn’t they tell you their plans?”

‘You think we have a plan?’

“You think we have a plan?”

“Yes!? How else would he be able to evade me.”

‘Have you ever considered, you’re just not good at combat?’

“Have you ever considered you’re just not good at combat?”

“I am!” He grabbed the bars.

‘Who are you trying to convince here?’

“Who are you trying to convince here?”

“I’m not trying to convince anybody!”

You raised a brow, nodded sarcastically, as if to say ‘whatever floats your boat’.

“You should learn to be afraid. Who’s got the upper hand here?”

‘I don’t even have hands.’ you shrugged, showing off your chained hands.

“She said she doesn’t even have hands.” Iroh struggled to say, laughing.

“UGH!” Zuko said, throwing his head back in annoyance, showing off his perfectly sculpted jaw - maybe you should keep that thought to yourself though.

“What am I meant to do? She won’t listen!” He said, exasperated.

“Maybe you’re just asking the wrong questions.”

“Fine. Um, where were you and the avatar last?”

..‘Didn’t you literally kidnap me from there?’

“Didn’t you literally kidnap her from there?”

“MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY ASKING OKAY? IT’S HARD!”

Things continued to escalate as Zuko began to lose his temper further.

‘Say, let's make a deal.’

“She’s proposing a deal.”

‘We spar, and if I win, you set me free. If you win, I’ll tell you everything I know about Aang.’

“She’s suggesting you spar, if she wins you grant her freedom, and if you win, she’ll tell you all you need to know about the avatar.”

“Do you think that’s a fair deal?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. I accept.”

So, in shackles, they took you up to the deck. Once up, Zuko and Iroh went on one side and you on the opposite.

“Stay focused Prince Zuko, don’t underestimate her, she has a determined look in her eyes - one that rivals the fury of a firebender.”

“Uncle, this will be easy. I’m going to win.”

And on the opposite side, you were observing the armour they gave you - big, bulky and so very tacky. And so you opted to remain armour-less, it was so obvious how to take Zuko down - you didn’t really sweat it.

“No armour huh?” a guard said, and you waved your arm dismissively, yawning to show you think this’ll be easy.

The guards laughed, earning a glare from both the prince and the retired general.

You stabilised your feet on the ground, arms up defensively.

“What kind of bender are you?” Iroh asked sweetly.

‘None.’ you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“She’s a non bender.” he said, eliciting a loud chuckle from the teen.

You grinned at the pair, waiting for them to be ready - you could almost taste your freedom.

“3..”

“2…”

“1. FIGHT!” Iroh howled.

He immediately lunged closer, using his fire to propel him forward. You didn’t move, you waited and listened and observed. His breaths were already quite laboured due to the fire, his movements were sharp yet uncalculated - a horrible mix. His arm was perpendicular to his body, other one back, a flame cocooned in his fist. Just as it was about to hit your face, you wrapped your hands around his arm and pulled it over your head, turning around just before kicking his back to the ground. He let out an ‘oof’ sound as his body hit the cool deck, laboured breaths exiting you from the adrenaline. Just as you were about to celebrate, he kicked his foot up, a spark uncannily close to your figure - causing you to fly back in self defence. Zuko jumped back to his feet, the shocked look on his face quickly getting replaced by a scowl. You reentered a solid stance and faced him menacingly, contrasting the pleased look on your face. You motioned ‘come’ with your hands - impatiently waiting for the cat to pounce. He blasted four more flames towards you, which you expertly dodged, inching closer and closer with each avoidance. You were at arms length when he loaded another blast. Quickly, you redirected his arms, evading death by a single second. Using the proximity to your advantage, you raised your knee to his chest, slowing his thought process down due to the pain, and after landing that leg, you swiped your other leg under his unstable ones, and with a groan, he fell yet again. You slid to the ground, pinning the prince’s arms above his head.

Then, there was silence.

Only sound coming from the strained breaths from you and the enemy beneath you. Your eyes locked with his, suddenly seeing him in a new light. The prince seemed to see the same, evident as he stopped struggling against your tight grasp. You neared his face slowly, mouthing ‘I win’ slowly, soundlessly. His face reddened, and eyes widened, mouth opening and closing - somewhat mimicking that of a fish.

Iroh yelled something about the match ending - declaring you the winner. You leaned back from your spot, signing to zuko, ‘What? Cat’s got your tongue?’ which his uncle repeated to him.

His face’s shade deepened, and he used his hands to hide it - an effort in vain, you’d already seen enough. Gently, you removed his hands from his face, and he slowly sat up, causing you to fall into his lap. It was as if time slowed, there was no anger, or resentment or fear, just warmth. Just the presence of two people discovering their feelings. It was weirdly comforting, even with your heart beat being so erratic. It was at that moment that the boy’s peripherals became more focused, a deck empty of staff surrounding him. Of course his uncle decided to leave him. He refocused his eyes on you, only to see yours wandering down to his lips. Soft and so very kissable. Before you knew it, he began to lean in too, arms wrapping around you. Your own reached to his face, cupping his pudgy cheeks in your warm hands. Subconsciously, he leaned in. As if a magnetic force took over, your lips suddenly crashed into his, your passion returned with just as much fervour from his side. You shut your eyes tightly, bodies pressed so close together, fitting like the last two pieces in a puzzle. His lips were delicate, dissimilar to his fiery personality - though, it did grow on you during the short period of time you had together. Your noses collided briefly, making you laugh. The kiss broke due to your giggle, and Zuko watched you laugh, a smile tugging on his lips as he heard the carefree, melodic noise.

Though, the thought lingered on his mind - you’re leaving today. The pain in his heart was deep, an ache caused by a sharp stab in his gut, a scar left on him, he felt like a stray kitten just having found a home, and now he was to lose it to his own stupid agreement to a deal. He sighed, and you poked him in his chest, and tilted your head to the side.

“It’s nothing,” he began to get up, causing you to fall out of his lap and onto the solid ground - a look of mock anger on your face. “I’ll go get your backpack.”

Right, he took it. It wasn’t filled with anything important. Just the necessities - a notebook and pen in case you run into someone who doesn’t understand sign and a few snacks. This angered Zuko at first, he was expecting to loot a map, or any sort of treasure or information, but no. Just some things. Tidbits from your life. You could often tell alot about someone using what they carry, but he felt as if he already knew you despite not knowing much. The days you’d been here felt like years, and passed like seconds.

It was only after the prince left in which you realised you were leaving. And you’ll definitely miss him. You scrambled to your feet and followed his direction. Some guards pointed to his room, and you just signed ‘thank you’, which even if they didn't understand, they probably got the hint. You finally made it to his chambers, a large black door with red and gold details towering over you, slightly ajar. You peeked through the crack and knocked.

“Come in.” The boy assumed it was his uncle.

You slithered in and shut the door behind you.

“Yn.” he said, surprised, a faint pink tinting his cheeks, dropping your things back onto his bed.

You walked up to Zuko, wide eyed and nervous, though you tried to keep that discreet. You grabbed your notebook from his bed, pen in your hand, and wrote: ‘I’ll miss you, blasty.’, turning it around to show him, your face glowing with a massive grin.

His face deepened in shades, a dopey smile playing on his face. “I’ll miss you too,”

You paused and looked at him, mulling over your next words. You scribbled something down, and hid it from his view. You ripped the paper and handed it to him folded up, not letting him read it yet. You leaned in again, this time to his cheek, and planted a soft and gentle kiss. He frowned, pulling your face back, this time to his lips. This one wasn’t like the first, it wasn’t blissful or happy. This was a goodbye kiss. And you both knew that. His lips felt almost sour this time, a bittersweet flavour matching the bittersweet farewell. Little did you know, he was fighting tears, biting back the salty water threatening to drip, pooling at his lower lash line - but he refused to let it drip. He refused to be emotional. Because this is what he deserved, to lose the people he loved. He deserved to be in pain. But you? You didn’t. He knew it would hurt deeper if you saw how upset he was, and so he kept it in. No matter how difficult. Your lips separated, his glossy eyes wandering your face for the last time. You leaned over the bed, breaking the moment short, and grabbed your things, waving goodbye before exiting the room, a frown on your face. As soon as your figure disappeared, he slumped onto his bed, dropping his face into his hands. He groaned, finally letting the emotions overtake him, tears slipping down endlessly. Zuko’s arm roughly wiped away the liquid from his features, though it just kept coming, his other hand fumbled to open the note. The firebender’s mouth opened slightly, eyes rereading the text over and over and over. ‘Find you way back to me, Zuko :)’

His body felt numb and guilty, his morals conflicting. But alas,

“I’ll find my way back. I promise.” he whispered.

An: Tbh I really shocked myself with this one, I had a lot of fun writing this angst! As always, hope you enjoyed reading, SEE YA! <3

186 notes · View notes

willadisastercry · 3 years

Text

The part where they pick up the pieces...

tw: discussion of blood, severe breathing difficulties, impalement, loss of conciousness, setting of a bone, needles, near death of a character

Part 2 of everyone gets whumped...

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

The ride back to the castle was less than ten dobashes, but it felt painfully longer.

Before Green’s paws even touched the hanger her ramp was already setting down to reveal Coran and Allura anxious to board.

Lance struggled to stifle the groan that the rumbling of Green’s jaws opening produced deep in his throat, setting alight a new fire in his shoulder when the jolt of it sent him forward, the metal still deep in his thigh shifting and letting a new spurt of blood well up and add to the small puddle forming underneath him.

Hunk clamped his hands over his ears and took several shakey breaths before he was certain he had pushed most of the bile that had risen up back down, shifting uncomfrotably to cover his eyes in the crook of his arm in anticipation of the inetsense lighting of Green’s hangar.

Keith didn’t fare well upon arrival either. He had been fighting the darkness that slowly clouded his vision as the pressure in his chest mounted, but the sudden landing sent him sprawling and all the spots he was sore and aching seemed to beat with a new fury as his vision wavered against his ragged breaths.

“I’ve got Pidge! Someone needs to grab Keith and Lance—no you’ve done enough buddy, let her help you...” Shiro ordered as he rose to his feet with Pidge still cradled against his chest, some soft cries escaping her mouth when he leaned back and hefted Hunk up as well.

He ushered his apologies while he waited for Hunk to orient himself before letting his grip on his arm go.

“Um... so you’re saying missing a shoulder bone is a common human injury?”

“More like misplaced, but yeah, wait—PLEASE do not touch, oh my god! Just because it’s missing, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, it’s still there Allura...”

Coran knelt beside Keith who had waved off the helping hand at first but the effort of even bringing himself up to his knees sent him into another coughing fit. The world before him spun and the pulse behind his eyes raged harder than ever, muffling everything the altean said to him before he found himself slumping into his embrace, the sound of his chest rattling was harsh and unnerving.

“Oh, my boy... alright, brace yourself,” was all Coran uttered before hefting Keith up and over his shoulder, the movement producing a stiff sigh while his arms shook from where they clutched then hung down limply as his chest contracted.

“Just relax, number four. Relief will come soon.”

They were just leaving Black’s hangar behind when Pidge uttered her first coherent words, she was mumbling for Shiro and then for Matt, her voice hitching and breaking when she called out for her parents. Shiro just shushed her and cradled her tighter into his chest as he tried his best not to break himself while he ran as fast as he could.

Hunk made his way slowly, using the wall heavily while he fought to keep his balance, Allura checking in on him every now and again when he would stumble while she fought Lance.

His good arm slung around Allura and his injured shoulder hanging unnaturally low as he limped along, his injured leg barely able to hold any weight now.

“This is silly Lance!”

He refused to be carried even though his legs shook so badly his balance was nearly as skewed as Hunk’s.

“What could possibly be so silly ab—agh!”

Allura had stepped away from Lance who lilted and was forced to catch himself by putting weight onto bad leg, biting down hard on his lip to keep from crying out.

“I’m done entertaining this,” the Princess stated before sweeping a grumbling Lance onto her shoulders in a fireman carry.

“Just be glad your travel size,” Hunk sighed wearily.

Coran and Shiro were the first to arrive and activated the sliding doors of the medical facility.

“This bed here, Shiro!”

“Wait, bed? Why not a pod?” Lance asked worriedly.

“I am most disheartened to say that only one pod is adaquately charged at the moment, I’ve redirected the castle’s power to charge a second but the system sustained substantial damaged during the fight... it might be a while before a second is operational,” Coran noted grimly, setting Keith down to sit on the edge of the bed across from the one Shiro was settling Pidge in.

“For now we must assess who truly cannot afford to wait and should it come to it we will conduct the healing process in stages.”

The (semi) walking wounded were just making it into the room when Keith let out a particulary wet hack and wiped the blood that came away off on his sleeve.

“Oh alaran, okay... Allura where are your mice?! We need these suits off now so I can begin my assessment and we don’t have enough hands!”

Coran tossed Shiro a pair of scissors who took over peeling the shredded suit away from Keith’s front, slowly revealing the giant welt that seemed to be his chest and side, all varying degrees of purple and red. His labored breathing made it difficult to work around and slowed the process, so he ended up leaving the more precise work of his shredded back for Coran.

“We must determine who can do without a healing pod for now...”

The mice were doing a swift job of Pidge’s suit while Coran attached wires to her chest and inserted an IV in her arm after getting both arms through a gown. There were dozens of wires now on her small body, a thingy on her finger, a canula around her ears delivering more oxygen though her nose. There also soon dozens on bandages.

The mice picked the large pieces of metal out of her wounds while coran wrapped gauze down her arm and thigh before moving to fully asses her stomach under a dense pile of white already soaked through.

“Pidge first,” Keith rasped as he look across to his teammate, so lifeless and small on the bed. He knew she was physically smaller than the rest of the team, she always had been, but never before had her tiny form scared him like this.

She remained unresponsive and bleeding from way too many places, another puddle quickly forming under her on the bed. Coran was murmuring nonsense about her vitals while preparing a pressure bandage for the largest of the leaking wounds on her stomach. Once it was covered it seemed to stabilize her and made the blaring machines quiet of which Hunk was very thankful for.

“Shiro, wave this scanner over number four’s chest and tell me the extent of the damage. Allura, cut three out of his suit as well, wrap the metal in place with this, use the scanner after. Then scan Hunk’s head, he’s look a tad green, maybe grab a bucket for the lad.”

Allura settled Lance down in a chair next to Hunk who helped himself to an ice pack and tried to keep from passing out or throwing up as he waited, the mice settling themselves on his shoulder and licking his face when his eyes fluttered shut.

Barely any of Lance’s suit survived Allura’s scissors. She cut the entirety of his right sleeve into bits so as to not disturb his shoulder, then rummaged around in the cabinet for a sling. It went on with some protest, but ultimately the stability of it hurt less.

“So strange how a cold block revlieves pain for humans... seems a bit barbaric to me.”

“It’s not barbaric, it’s heaven,” Lance hissed as she secured the last pack with the altean equivalent of an ace bandage and he shook under the delightfully painful sting of the cold against his throbbing shoulder.

Hunk leaned back in his chair and squeezed his eyes shut, somewhat reliving the exhausting spinning he experienced when they were open as another wave of nausea washed over him, he wouldn’t be able to keep his dinner down much longer.

“You’d better stay awake number two, haven’t had a look at that third eye yet,” Coran almost laughed at himself, but somehow he couldn’t as he worked Pidge.

She was too pale. Too quiet. And while he had managed to somewhat staunch the bleeding for now, he couldn’t remedy what had already been lost. Not with gauze. And not with the pod.

But Keith’s breathing was taking a turn for the worst.

Shiro peeled the last of the top half of Keith’s suit from his arms and asked Allura to help hold him steady while he scanned the already dark expanse of his chest.

His eyes were glazed and his breathing was very labored now, not much getting in and not much coming out.

There was blood leaking from the corner of his mouth now, the stream almost steady.

The scanner blared red as it passed across the front of his body. Four broken ribs, several others bruised, and a pulmonary contusion. The cuts on his back were superficial mostly, some deep and wide enough to need stitches. But that was all expected.

What wasn’t expected was the bleeding in his abdomen.

His liver. The damage was extensive.

Coran looked over when Shiro relayed that bit, Keith was pale and shaking now, the effects of blood loss ringing true.

He was at Keith’s bed in a second, holding his head up limply so he could secure an oxygen mask on his face, his skin was warm to the touch and his face glistened with sweat.

He had no idea how the boy was still coherent, let alone sitting up mostly on his own.

Coran began attaching wires all over to track his vitals, ignoring how he winced under the touch, his head remaining in the crook of Shiro’s arm where it had resided after Allura left with the scanner.

The mix 100% oxygen and an altean herb that relaxed distress seemed to bring his levels up and calm him down. It somewhat and soothed the burning in his throat, but he continued to wheeze, the rattle in his chest as present as ever.

“Can you hear me, lad?”

Keith’s eyes lidded and he looked around, searching for Coran who lifted his chin up and shined a light across his eyes. They were sluggish but followed it accordingly.

“Shiro get him on his side. Begin cleaning the wounds on his back and removing all of the debris. Call out his oxygen saturation every few minutes. All we can do is monitor his internal bleeding for now, but if his breathing takes a turn he’s going into a pod immediately and the shrapenl cannot be there if he does.”

He returned to Pidge and flicked through her chart with all of his diognositics on it shaking his head.

“I need Lance scanned, and pricked,” he said after a moment of deliberation, holding up a finger pincher for blood typing.

“Shiro and Hunk I also need you pricked... actually maybe not Hunk just yet.”

“M’ fine,” he protested, barely able to string coherent words together, the mice squeaking in protest.

“Pidge needs a blood transfusion before she goes into a pod, if I put her in now without having stopped the bleeding... she may bleed out in a matter of minutes, and with the rate that Keith is losing blood into his abdominal cavity, he will too.”

“No need to type everyone, I’m compatible with both. Universal donor, baby! Take my beautiful blood,” Lance beamed holding his good arm out.

“We’ll have Shiro typed as well, you can only give so much since you’re also injured.”

“Pshh, take as much as you need.”

Allura rolled down the remnants of his sleeve until it slipped off.

“Hook up his vitals, Princess. Can you start IV fluids and the donation line like I showed you?”

“Yes, I think so...”

“Think so? You are not—OUCH, hey! Well... that wasn’t so bad.”

The princess stifled her laughs as she attached a bag of fluids to the IV she placed in Lance’s hand, then tied a rubber band around his bicep.

“Shiro, can you finish dressing Pidge’s more minor wounds? Pack the gauze on before you tape, and don’t fret about being gentle. I’d like to take a look at Keith’s chest for myself... Princess after you’ve started the first donation can you type number one?”

Everyone uttered in agreement and Coran sighed as he left Pidge to switch with Shiro.

He sat on the side of Keith’s bed and picked up where Shiro had left off on his back, holding together the wider gashes with surgical tape and packing them all with gauze as well. Only a few needed stitching, but he packed them with gauze for now before bandaging.

“I’ve got to take a look at your front, my boy,” Coran noted as he shifted Keith from laying more on his stomach to completely on his side.

His face scrunched up in discomfort when he did.

There was hardly a spot on his front untouched by darkening bruises, each in different stages of purple and red.

He waved his scanner over the darkest spot on his side just as Lance cried out, the results would take a dobash to calibrate.

“Fuck, AGHhh, owh Allura! I—mmph” Lance kicked his feet out to keep literal tears from escaping his eyes, then clutched at his leg when kicking shifted the rather large metal spire still inside of it, and grimaced again when all of his movement agitated his shoulder once more.

“What is going on over there?!”

“I may or may not have bumped into Lance’s mangled shoulder...” Allura said guiltily as she held Lance firmly in his seat while he squirmed, scared that he was going to continue hurting himself or pull out both of the vital needles in his good arm.

“Erm, Coran you might want to take a look at this,” Allura postured once Lance had calmed down enough to let her move the ice pack, he was exhausted both from the pain and the energy it took to thrash given almost an entire pint of of his blood was now in a bag next to him, not to mention what he’d already lost.

Coran left the scanner as it loaded it’s prognosis.

“Shiro, what did you call this strange phenomenon?” Coran asked as he mused over the lack of shoulder bone at the top of his neck.

“His shoulder is dislocated...?”

“That’s to say, the head of the joint is in another location?”

“Yes...?”

“Where then—oh. Oh, dear. How does one go about correcting this? Altean joints are connected by seemingly much stronger tissues and tendons... this is most unusual,” Coran asked nervously as he looked over Lance’s shoulder to his back where the missing bone was protruding from.

“You put it back into place. I’ve seen it done, it’ll hurt but you kind of just pull depending on which way it went out...”

Coran waved the scanner over it and it blared red, corroborating Shiro’s diagnosis.

“Very well, number one, Lance’s shoulder is indeed dis-lo-cated. You said to just... pull?”

Coran asked quizzically as he removed the sling and took up Lance’s arm straight out in front of him.

“HOLD UP—GAH!”

Lance was thrashing once more and cradling his arm now, sweat dripping from his forehead as he panted.

“How was that, number—“

“HOW WAS THAT?! That was awful! It’s also still not back in place and... jeez, is it warm in here or is that just me?”

Coran waved the scanner over Lance’s shoulder once more.

“Hmm, the injured muscles appear to be spasming. It seems the joint cannot be reduced unless the muscles and the patient are relaxed, the scanner advises a muscle relaxer be injected in the area...”

“Will this do, Coran?” Allura was holding a vial and syringe she had just pulled from the cabinet freshly restocked of human medicines and vaccines.

“Yes, princess! This may sting...” Lance had no energy left to protest. He barely even felt the needle going into his shoulder, though he doubted he’d ‘barely’ feel what came next.

His head hung low as he braced himself, a steady, thumping heart beat the only thing he could really hear at that point. He vaguely wondered if he should tell Coran he was seeing stars or not, thinking it wouldn’t matter in a minute anyway.

“Shiro, can you hold the boy steady... yes, like that. Okay, deep breath number three.”

Lance had just began sucking in a huge breath when Coran pulled on his arm and Shiro pushed on his chest, keeping his body still while the tension on his arm slipped the joint of his shoulder back into place with a satisfactory pop!

He couldn’t even feel the pain or relief that came with the reduction of the injury because his head lolled forward to rest on Shiro’s forearm, his hands on his chest the only thing left keeping the exhausted boy upright as consciousness dripped away and he slumped further.

“Lance!”

“Crap,” Shiro exclaimed, pushing his weight back against the chair and holding him there.

“That’s enough blood from you,” Allura said as she stopped the donation.

“All vitals normal except... blood volume, but that’s expected... heart rate elevated, that should return to normal soon... and blood pressure extremely high, yep. Right, so the boy has passed out,” Coran stated as if that fact wasn’t already blatant enough.

“Think we knew that already,” Shiro laughed blandly, Lance’s head still in the crook of his arm.

“Allura, can you start the line for the transfusion on Pidge?”

She nodded as she unhooked the line from Lance and brought the bag of blood still very warm over to Pidge’s bed.

“Can you set Lance up in a bed for me while I check in on Keith?”

“Yes,” Shiro gruffed as he carefully lifted Lance, trying not to jostle either of his injuries.

Keith hadn’t improved when Coran returned, the IV fluids and oxygen only preventing a further decline in his condition.

“This isn’t good my boy,” he mused, flicking through the report and brushing his hair out of his eyes. He leaned into the touch, his face filled with desperation and slick with sweat from his constant efforting to breathe.

Coran let out a rather aggressive sigh.

“I need a 14 gauge needle.”

“14 gauge? But that’s for... “

“Yes, I am afraid the pressure in his lungs is building and if i don’t decompress now his contusion will progress into a tension pneumothorax and cut off oxygen to his brain and—thank you. Keith...”

He reached for the mask on his face and tried to garble out a few words but none of it was coherent through the wheezes that came with them.

“I know, my boy. Relax, you will feel much better in a moment, I’ve got to roll you onto your back now—I apologize for the discomfort.”

Keith groaned at the new orientation and soon his breathing nearly stopped altogether, his body spasming and his face twisting up as it was deprived almost entirely of air.

It wasn’t just the injuries on fire underneath him, the fluid that had built up in his lungs and chest cavity had moved to block what little air he had been managing to make it in.

“I’m sorry,” Coran offered as he pressed on his chest right next to his sternum and just below his collarbone than found the third rib down and stabbed the large needle into the intercostal space between it and the next.

He had taken the inside of the needle out so it was just the tube that was now letting out a high pitched hiss as the pressure in Keith’s lungs dissipated. He heaved gratefully, choking and sputtering on the renwed ability to in bring air, his throat aching dryly and his head buzzing while blood rushed back up to it.

“Vitals stabilizing... oxygen saturation increasing... blood pressure steady... heart rate lowering... blood volume still dangerously low... How’s number three? Keith also needs a transfusion.”

“Lance can’t give anymore, he’s still out,” Shiro said as he rearranged the wires attached to him and took the needle left from the donation out.

“Allura says I’m B negative. What is Keith?”

“He’s AB positive, you’re compatible but I have reservations about the Galra component of his blood... if he were donating I’d be more hesitant, I just don’t have enough expertise in this area to be confident that he won’t react as if you weren’t even compatible...”

“Just-just do it,” Keith croaked almost inaubidly. “Do it so Pidge can go in the pod. I’ll be fine, j-j-just do it.”

“Alright, number four, but you tell us if anything feels wrong, okay? Allura can you prep Pidge for the pod?”

Shiro dragged a chair over to Keith’s bedside and rolled up his sleeve. Coran tied a rubber band around his bicep and started the donation then went to Keith and got him set up for the transfusion. The line coming from Shiro’s arm connected directly to Keith’s, a small monitor tracking how much was being distributed.

Neither boy said much of anything for a while, both staring helplessly as Coran and Allura situated Pidge in a healing pod. It was dimmer than usual and seemed slower to activate, but Pidge hadn’t moved so much as an inch and didn’t seem to mind the wait.

It was only when Lance woke up again that either were aware their eyes had drifted shut. They didn’t remain that way for long though...

LOL didn’t think there’d be a part 3 but here we are, I apologize.

#vld #voltron whump #voltron fic #keith whump #pidge whump #lance whump #hunk vld #whump scenario #vld headcanons #vld fandom

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reblogcentre-2 · 3 years

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tw for: sh & trans stuff & blood & auto-surgery

So you asked about my experience with auto-surgery. I actually wrote a vent fanfiction so I copy-pasted it & added more notes & stuff. The notes I added after are in ((here)) & the rest of it is my vent fanfic. The fanfic is p much accurate to the experience & any inaccuracies are pointed out ((in the)) notes.

I've dreamt about this before, but I never thought I would actually do it. It's completely an impulse decision. Well maybe not completely. I have the sense to find supplies first. Like a pack of razor blades. ...And scissors, toilet paper, rubbing alcohol, ice packs, a needle and thread, and a glass of water to keep me hydrated. I may be making a stupid decision, but I'll at least do it right.

I sit on the floor of my room, and take off my shirt. While holding an ice pack under my… on my chest ((don’t wanna say boobs)), I tie some fabric around my waist so there’s no bloody mess I have to clean. ((didn't work.)) Damn this ice pack is so cold, it almost hurts. Though, that's a good thing. It means my nerves will be numb.

Right.

I look around at my setup in confusion, I've lost my train of thought, ((adhd)) what am I doing what next- Ah, razor.

A thin piece of metal, flexible, yet strong. It doesn't glint in the artificial light. It's a matte metallic grey. I pick up my little prize, and having sanitized ((sadly not sterilized tho)) it in the alcohol and let it dry, letting down the ice pack. I bring it to the underside of my chest- but I can't see it. Disappointment. I put it down.

I need to get my fat ugly breast out of the way. Then it occurs to me- tape! ((I shoplifted this tape)) I use the tape to pull my chest up and back so I can see underneath it, or as much as I can, considering the size of it.

Now, I take up my razor. I remember reading about this one lady who gave herself a cesarean section with three long slices of a kitchen knife. She was a Mexican butcher. ((k so she had to go to the hospital after to get her intestines re-arranged I think. Also, this is what I would ask you to do, If I’m numb I won’t feel it so you can just boom three long swipes with a nice sharp chef’s knife & boom my boob is gone.))

Taking a deep breath, bracing myself for what's to come, I put the razor to my skin and pull. But I don't pull. I lift. I was too afraid, too cowardly to actually try. ((this is why I want someone else to do it)) Thankful to have lost some sensation from binding, I replace the ice pack and breathe again. Ok. I've got this. This is good. This is ok.

I lift the ice pack again, and this time I test my skin slightly. I… can't feel it. At least, not much. So, with the tape pulling back the offending tissue, I use my right hand to swipe across my left chest. It's barely a scratch. I try it again, this time closing my eyes before opening and doing the cut. It's much faster this time, and slightly deeper. How did she do it in three slices with her kitchen knife?

The blood is warm, and it drips down my chest. I unravel some tissue to dab at the blood. Then I make another cut, following inside the first, deepening it.

Yes.

I can't easily reach all the way across the bottom, so I'll have to settle for my scar being slightly on the inside. ((I can legit send a pic of the scar if you’re comfy with that)) I wipe the blood, then replace the ice pack. I need some more freezing. In a moment, I get back to it with the razor.

I can sometimes feel the pain, but I try to ignore it, or freeze it away. I keep slicing, wiping, and icing my chest. ((ok so only the skin felt painful & if you’re good, you can get thru the skin rly fast with the knife)) All the way until I see something unusual.

That's not skin.

That's… something.

Subdermal fat maybe? ((I had seen this already, but this was written as a vent fanfiction)) I keep going with the razor, another slash or two. Then I take hold of my scissors. ((oh the scissors were shit)) I can pinch my loose-from-binding skin to make a slight fold where I can use the scissors. So I do.

I use the scissors to open up the hole wider, ((idk if I actually did a lot of this or only a little bc scissors were painful af)) and I can see the fat in it. It's lumpy and greasy.

I'm disgusting.

It's a yellowish ((in culinary, the paler the fat the healthier the deer/animal. I think it might have just been discoloured from the blood. Btw there was no blood in the fat bc fat doesn’t have caapillaries)) white, made up of little bubbles, or maybe they just look that way because of the mutilation I'm committing. It's covered in red blood, so it looks more of an orange pink.

My gash is about 10cm long, maybe less. Probably less. ((I can measure if u want)) I use the scissors on the fat under the skin, and surprisingly, I can't feel it. I wipe up the blood, ready to strike again, but when I pick up the scissors I've bled again. I wipe again, pick up the scissors again, and prepare to slice again, again; but like last time there is too much blood. ((ugh I remember this, it was so annoying & my rag was already blood soaked))

I try to wipe it up enough to continue with my surgery, but I keep bleeding. and my ice packs are getting warm. ((I had to ask my brother to get me another ice pack but he brought me one that was only partially frozen))

So…

Shower.

I can do this in the shower.

I'm covered in blood, but the water would wash it away, keep it clean, moist, prevent it from clotting, and the cold water could provide numbing. Yes. I'm a genius. Shifting my pins-and-needles legs, I gather all the supplies I can carry, and peek my head around the corner. Nobody is coming.

Perfect.

I dash through the hallway, and my supplies are dumped on the washroom counter.

What do I do now? I… turn on the tap.

The cold water is uncomfortable, but I lean my body down, supporting my weight on either end of the tub, so that the water only runs along my chest. I tense as it cools the flesh. Then I step out of the shower, thankful that only my chest is wet, and try to keep on, but it’s so bloody. ((I remember thinking it literally looked like a murder scene. I was a Sherlock fan t the time))

It would make perfect sense to just bring my tools into the shower with me. I bring in two of my sharpest razors and my scissors, as well as one ice pack. ((I didn’t want the water to warm up the ice)) I run the cold shower over my laceration again, numbing it more, and once I’m done with that, I take my scissors and I put them inside.

Repeat repeat repeat. ((ok I think here is where I try to separate my skin from my breast tissue? I got such bad bruises bc I didn’t manage to take it all out))

Soon, I’m done separating the skin and extending the opening up a little higher. I keep rinsing the blood, the water runs down my entire body at this point, but I’m used to the cold.

I use my scissors to cut in deeper, I can’t feel it in the mammary fat at all. The scissors are opened and closed in rhythm, without being taken out of me between snips, and I reveal something that looks less like skin, and less like the bubbly pale fat. It might be a mammary gland- I’m not sure. It’s a different texture though, and-

Ouch! I can feel that! Damned fuck! I mean heck! ((I think I legit tried to not swear. I hurt a lot to cut that part. If it’s just done in one swipe tho it wouldn’t be as bad))

I water my wound again. I can’t have my body in pain. Just a few more seconds of cold water, and I can get back to it. Or maybe I should use my ice pack too… The ice pack helps freeze whatever that thing is, so I can cut through it with my scissors.

I’ve made a thick cut now, but I’ve seen surgeries before, I’ve watched so many videos of top surgeries, even some full surgery videos. I know what to do.

So I take my razor from the soap-bench in the wall and run it between the skin and my tissue until I get enough space for my scissors. ((oh! no- here’s the part where I separate the skin & get bruising)) My scissors go right between them, opening and closing as I move them around under my skin. I can see my skin stretch around them, like seeing someone’s legs under a blanket.

Now that I have it separated, I could maybe cut out an entire chunk. I rinse my scissors under the shower, and put them down on the floor of the tub, then I look down.

I’m covered in blood.

I open the shower door and look in the mirror across from me. It looks like a murder scene. There, my skin held apart by tape, a gaping slash under my- my breast, blood drips coming down from it, blood spread all over my torso from the water, blood in the hole in my body, ((yes a hole in my body, kinda wish I took a pic)) blood bright red from being mixed with the water, blood clotting on my belly. I made jokes about some things looking like murder scenes before, like when working with food colouring.

Oh how I was wrong.

This is what a murder scene looks like. I’m so bloody. Part of me wants to take a picture, ((lol I was just thinking this!)) but oh hell (I mean heck) that would be messed up. As though I’m not already messed up!

Well I can’t stare, I have work to do. Work. I close the shower door, and bend down to pick up my ice pack, but I need to be careful, I don’t want to disturb my broken chest.

Numbing my chest again, I continue with this routine, pulling out chunks of my own body and flushing them down my shower drain like the serial killer I read about a little while ago. ((I don’t remember much about the chunks. It might have been less chunks than I’m making it sound. I have memory problems so : / ))

At some point I look in the mirror again, and I’m almost disgusted at what I’ve done.

My family probably needs to use the washroom, I’ve probably been showering for an hour now, they might get suspicious.

The smell is metallic & meaty, almost fishy even.

Thankfully, when I look down at my chest, it seems like I might be slightly smaller than before. ((not rly. It partially looked that way bc of the tape)) It definitely looks smaller than the one on my right. I haven’t been using my ice pack much lately. The blue liquid in the plastic pack has lost most of its cold.

I rinse off my less sharp scissors and razor, and spray all of the leftover bubbles of fat and drops of blood down the drain, trying to get the bloody footprints and handprints ((I forgot I made hand/foot prints!! If I had forgotten them mum could have walked in to pee & seen bloody handprints lol)) from the edges of the tub where I supported myself before getting used to the completely cold shower. I rinse off my torso, too now. Blood is strewn all over it, and some has dripped down to my legs, which has now dried. As soon as I rinse it off, I bleed some more. Ah. Well.

Onto the burgundy red floor towel I step, and I try my best to dry off my bloody chest and abdomen, but of the two rags I have, one of them is wet from taking it into the shower, and the other is already soaked with blood. Neither can help. I do my best nonetheless, and decide I should move on to stitches.

I know how to sew, and I’ve gotten stitches before, I should be able to do them. ((irl I had only gotten stitches once & I already gave myself stitches once))

But I can’t find my needle, ((yeah I just couldn’t find my needle when I moved from my room to the washroom)) and the water hasn’t numbed my skin enough. Inside my body, in the fat, I can’t feel it, but, seemingly, I would still be able to feel it if I were to perform my own stitches.

Alrighty then, I can just tape myself together until I dry. But the tape won’t stick. ((ugh this was so annoying! I literally used all of my skin tape)) Neither will the bandaids. I have no sewing needle. I don’t know what to do, crap! I don’t know how to fix this! The tape won’t stick! Screw this fucking hell! I mean hecking heck!

Eventually, I go to my room. I put on my faux binder. It’s an old bra with a piece of fabric of my measurements sewed on the inside to compress my chest, the bra is just for the straps. Over that loose and torn excuse for a binder, I put on bra after bra, binding my semi-detached chest down so that I might be able to sleep without causing more damage.

I have a.. A thing tomorrow. ((practice for my baking competition)) I can go to the hospital a few blocks away from my school ((20 minute walk)) and get stitches there. Maybe they’ll even say I need to get top surgery an’ the gover’ment will pay for it. Yeah that’d be nice. I can jus’ wai’ ‘ntil tomorrow... and tomorrow I can take more ibe- ibu- ibupropen- ibuprofen... ((I wrote like this for the dramatic effect in the vent fic)) I can't take any more t’day. I’ll just go to sleep now n’ then I’ll wake up for school and when mom... asks me whaveter she asks I'll just tell her I have carpentry, and I'll tell the instructor that I’m not working today. ((irl I went to culinary, then told my teacher “actually I’m going to pick up my supplies to practice with & skidaddle”)) He’ll unsterdand, it’s not like I have school, it's the teacher’s comvemtion, I’m not obligated to stay, I can lust jeave. Mum will be none the wiser. Yah. Sleepy time. Hospital tomorrow.

((so yeah. I go to sleep & ppl always say they can’t sleep on their sides so I tried that but I couldn’t handle it so I slept on my side while hugging a pillow to make sure nothing fell. I’m shaking too. Tbh I was just thinking “I’ve been in the bathroom for an hour or more, why has nobody knocked asking to brush their teeth?” I wake up the next day & put on a button-up shirt bc ppl say they can’t lift their arms, I practice walking on google maps to the hospital, then mom drives me to school. I had my learner’s license but I didn’t want to drive bc of my injury. I go in, I tell Chef I’m leaving, he’s cool abt it. So now I’m loaded up with a huge backpack, it’s february in canada & I forgot a jacket (bc I was driving in a warm car to a warm school & busy planning other things), I also brought my fiddle bc I waited for 4 hours last time & was bored, & I have a huge toolbox & a tub of fondant. I walk 20 minutes to the hospital, get in, & I need to change from my mask to the hospital mask. I go through talking to ppl & stuff. Eventually I’m called up for triage & I tell the guy what’s up (& take my meds bc I forgot that morning & she thought I was doing drugs) & sheasks me for my healthcard number & stuff. I think she was able to put my preferred name in the notes. I’m unbuttoning my shirt & she says “actually come in here” so I go into the nurses’ station & she peels up my bras a bit (apparently I’ve bled) & she’s like “wtf bro” & I’m like “what?” & she’s really concerned that I wanted like 12 hours to come. It was like 9-10pm that I was doing it & it was probably 10am at the time I saw her idk. So she gets me into a private room immediately I think (idk I might be mixing this up with the hospital trip where I had to wait for ages. Idk whether I had to wait here too.) Oh I forgot, I also plucked my violin while waiting for triage or to get called to a private room, but I wasn’t allowed. So eventually (really soon by hospital standards) I get taken to a private room. They get me to change into a gown (all of my bras off too) & now my breast isn’t secured. So while I’m waiting I play my fiddle & look up chords on my phone. Everyone likes it. The nurses & doctors & porters are like “where’s that music coming from?” & “It’s like we’re at the beach” bc chords on violin sound like chords on ukelele despite the fact that I was singing mostly mother mother. Ppl come in a lot tbh. I think the doctor comes in but he says “my shift is over soon & you will take a long time, bYe!” also I’ve been asked so many times if this was a suicide attempt & I’m like “nah bro if I wanted to be dead I would be, I’m not actually suicidal anymore.” Eventually a porter comes to move me from my nice private room to some curtained one. I’m plucking my violin quieter but some fuckin security guard says it’s loud & might be disturbingother patients so I play a really quiet eidelwisse & then I think I might stop. The guard called me miss too & it sucked. Eventually the doctor on shift comes & asks me about things & why & he’s also got his hands on my boob. (when I saw the first doctor he asked if I needed a female doctor & I was like “nah dude ur a doctor & I’m a trans.) So he’s going to sew me up & at some point he asks “tdo you want me to take the rest off?” I’m super confused until I realize he’s making a joke: “do you want me to finish the job & take the rest of your boob off?” so I laugh & say “I wish” & he says “I’d do a horrible job” & I’m like “BRo I AlreAdy did a hOrrible job!” so that was funny. He also asked me about trans stuff bc he didn’t understand a lot (he was respectful even tho he didn’t understand) & he even suggested I claim back pain to get a reduction. I have back pain (mostly from binding). Anyways he drops the needle with novacaine or whatever the hell& needsto get a new one & nobody can touch it bc it’s sharp. A few times it hurts but it’s fine I just close my eyes. He asks “do you need more anesthetic?” & I’m like “bro I did this with only a fucking ice pack” but w/o the swears. I ask him if I can bind after & he’slike “idk” so that was fun. I have a dip in my scar now. Then a nurse comes in & puts a fuck ton of bandages & gause on me but it’s stupid bc I was lying doen & as soon as I stood up (& worse when I put on a bra) it changed everything. So they give me a bag for all my bras & I walk back to school. Now it’s like 15.00 or 3 o’clock so I get back to school… & my phone is at 1%. I text my mom “hey I’m done at school” on google hangouts but my phone dies before I know whether or not the message sent. Chef is already gone, so I can’t get into the school. I can’t call mom. I walk around for a bit, assuming she’ll pick me up when she thinks it’s time. Nope. I’m outside in the cold. I start knocking on doors asking for a phone but it’s fricking covid season! I walk to a nearby coffeeshop & borrow the phone of a nice couple. Mom got sus of that. I warm up in the nice coffeeshop, mom takes me home, but she knows I skipped practice. I think she even called my chef. So yeah that was stupid. I told her “haha I went to get drugs” but she didn’t believe me & also what kind of a lie is that? She knew I cut myself, I guess I just didn’t want to worry her or have her demand to see or cry & ask me why I felt the need to change my body. I’m pissed off that she caught me (she caught me last time I gto stitches too). I can’t jump anymore *& I’m wearing my size-up binder. The doctor told me to scrub my stitches in nthe shower, the nurse told me to wrap in in plastic wrap. I’m wearing button shirts for ages after this, I’m avoiding lifting my arms, everything sucks. Whenever I think of it, I could smell it. I smelled the blood. Every time I smelled a glass that was washed in a dishwasher, I smelled my injury. Every time I remembered it, I could smell it. I don’t get that anymore but I was literally in mild shock & I think I may have traumatized myself. There’s more to say but I forget it all & idc so good night))

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dragonswithjetpacks · 3 years

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Tagged by @noire-pandora! Thank you for the tag!

5 Favorite Writing Bits - I’m just going to include some stuff from 2020. Because 2021 has been a lot of Astarion and Ferelith so far. So from oldest to newest, here we go!

1. WIP from Voices of the Fade - I swear I’m going to get to this one day. So help me. This is actually what made me want to write this series. It was the first thing I wrote for it. And it made me just incredibly heart broken.

There was something about the way the sunlight hit... She was naturally pale, so her ivory skin was glowing against her cheekbones. They defined the side of her face, giving the soft shape of her profile a hint sharpness. Her nose was so small. And so were her lips, despite how pouty the bottom one was. But it was the way the sunlight hit her face that made him stare in awe. When her eyes opened, he shifted hoping it was not his gaze that woke her. She blinked up at him as if in disbelief. He brushed a strand from the corner of her mouth as she came to.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"Home," he answered.

The stone walls of the fortress were the color of dark sand. It kept the rooms cool from the scorching sun. The windows were thick and tinted, as well, preventing any sort of breeze from intruding. The smells of the Anderfels were not always pleasant. And the birds were always hungry. Nevertheless, the mountains were massive and a wonder to look at. Like green giants plastered against a forever grey wall. And Weishaupt was it's gem. A place of honor of protection. A place of fragrant foods and quiet murmurs. And a place where the clashing of swords and explosions of magic echoed through the grounds. It was everything he had imagined.

"This is nice," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he heaved a happy sigh.

"Shame this isn't what really happened, though."

It was too confusing to mutter a response. Not that he could as a lump swelled in the depths of his throat. His mouth refused to open. And he watched as her face burned under the sunlight, a bright hot light that sizzled into ash, the same color as her hair. He reached out for her, his hands burning. It was too late.

2. From the first chapter of A Dame’s Tale (Claira Trevelyan’s origin story) - This was super personal for me. My mother was emotionally abusive and my dad was always working so he couldn’t always be there for me. And this was really just something I drew from that.

"Do proper ladies raise their hand?"

"No," the tears began to swell.

"Are you a proper lady, Claira?"

"Yes, Mother. I am," her voice cracked.

"I don't think you are."

"I promise I'll do better."

"You promised last time."

"Please, Mother, I promise. For real this time."

The tears were now little streams dripping down the side of her face. Her voice cracked as she wailed a plea for her mother's forgiveness. Her mother was silent, her eyes scanning over her youngest child as she stood sobbing in front of her. This little girl- her knuckles and cheek bruised, her lip bloodied, her dress torn with patches of dirt, her dark hair a tangled mess, and her face wet with tears- this was not the daughter she had prayed for.

"Go with your father. He'll take you to your room."

Claira struggled to catch her breath between cries and a warm hand on her shoulder didn't help. She let out the tears she had been holding back and she fought to keep her eyes open. Although blurry, she could see the back of her mother's dress swaying as she strode to the other side of the room to the balcony door. She did not see the rest as her father had reached down to clutch her hand.

3. Some super serious Aeva x Solas angst. I have feelings about eluvians. This is from Whispers in the Garden.

For a moment she saw a cliff side outlined with trees adorning flowers that was quickly obscured by a tall figure, shrouding her view. She stepped back further, feeling the air from the other side chill her entire body. Aeva became overwhelmed with the thought that this could be real and she stepped backward even further to take in the familiar shape. The mirror's image closed, making a small sound like shutters closing quickly against wind. And now the only light in the room was from the moon shining down through a window above. It made his face look pale. But other than that, it was just as she remembered.

His hands were folded behind him with his shoulders back and his chin held up proudly. His face was the same, but he was still different. It was nothing like he used to be. He wasn't the mage with the rugged tunic. He was a soldier. No... a commander in gleaming metal armor. The anger came rushing back to her as she remembered the last time he walked through a mirror. The way he used her for his own gain. Disappointment replaced her distraught and she felt ever foolish for wishing to see him. Her fist curled tightly against her and she drew in a deep breath through gritted teeth. But before she could yell, he was on her, his gloved hand pressed tightly over her mouth.

"Shhhh," he said softly into her ear.

With her only hand, she tried to push him away. She didn't want to see him. And she affirmed that by closing her eyes tightly. She hit him in the shoulder over and over until her hand hurt. Until her knuckles felt raw. Until she felt the skin punctured.

"Vhenan," he whispered.

The sound of the name he used to call her on his lips just made things worse. She pushed him one last time, feeling her arm go weak. Her knees began to shake and they buckled. Tears pushed past her eyelids, crashing down as she began to yell into the palm of his hand. He waited until she had exhausted herself. He held her at her waste and loosened his grip the moment he felt her muscles were no long tense. He removed his hand from her mouth, lifting her chin to look at her face. Her eyes were hooded and she still refused to look at him. But he could tell that she was beyond tired. Her body seemed lighter than before. Her skin had lost it's sun touched glow. Her lips were cracked.

"Enough," she felt her mouth make the shape, but was unsure if the sound came out.

He kept hold of her in fear that she would collapse.

"You can't keep doing this," she went on, finally hearing the raspy tone in her voice.

Her eyes finally opened and he could see now they were still piercing green. The yellow flecks inside were illuminating her eyes like they were on fire. They brought a flutter of fear into his chest, like the moment before being struck suddenly by fangs. But it quickly faded as she brought her hand to his face. It felt like the same man. The same smooth skin with a sharp jawline and faint smile. It sounded just like him too. Looked at her the same. But it wasn't.

"You can't come into my dreams anymore," she said. "I can't take it."

4. So I did a thing where I combined Aeva’s fear of drowning with the fear of what she lost with Solas. And because she connects fear with anger, it all just combines into a huge mess of emotion. This was the first time I really was able to portray that. An expert from Chapter 7 of Strange Fates.

Aeva walked to edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves swelling beneath her. There was the strange feeling again. The fear of the nothing beyond the sea. It was a larger feeling than what she felt at the barge. It was like the all the other times... like the first time...

The first time she saw waves this large...

The first time she sat on the coast...

(memory) The rain came down heavy and she looked outside her tent. It wasn't letting up any time soon. She paced, rubbing her hands on her face. If she didn't act soon, the trail would grow cold and she would never find the Grey Wardens. The flap to her tent lifted without any announcement of arrival. And he stood, a look of concern on his face. He offered her a warm drink. They sat across from each other on her cot. He made her laugh. He took her hand, but it was for research. His fingertip traced in the inside of her palm. She snatched it back...

"Aeva?" Fenris jumped down from the wagon. "You're looking at the sea strangely again."

"Yes..." she shook her head. "Yes I am."

"Ferguson is setting up camp if you-"

There was a drifting silence between them as she brushed by. Her movements seemed slow and her eyes looked blank. Almost as if she were in some sort trance. It had been a long night. And upon further inspection, he could see spurts of blood across her armor. Still, for her not to respond at all was odd.

"... want to take some time to rest," he finished his sentence, watching the back of her disappear around the wagon.

The tents were nothing like she used when traveling with the Inquisition. These were much smaller. Large enough for a cot and maybe a table if you angled it correctly. Her tent was in the northernmost corner and the closest to the fire, which Ferguson had already prepared. It was still small and clinging onto the wood from the blowing wind, but he stoked it carefully so it did not catch flame to the pine needles below. Iris sat nearby peeling potatoes and whistling softly. They looked as Aeva came through, but said nothing.

The fear from the waves was not going away. And the more she thought about a way to be rid of it, the worse it got. Aeva did not handle fear well. It simmered in her chest, tightening her lungs and making her heart race. When it began to boil, she burst with rage. And she couldn't let that happen. Not in front of the camp. There was only one thing she could do. She reached into her pack, looking for a specific vial. And it was there bundled in the center of strange looking leaves. It was a black mixture with floating powder. In most cases, she would use it as a bomb to subdue her enemies. But mixed with the liquid, it became a sleep aid in small doses. She shook it up, causing it swirl slowly. The small cork made a small pop as she opened it. And with a wrinkled nose, she took one drink of it as if it were a shot of the strongest ale. There was a bit of a gag, but then she swallowed hard a second time to try and be rid of the taste. The cork went back into the vial, between the leaves, and bound with string once again before she placed it back in her pack. The affects were almost instant. And she barely had enough time to lay her head on the pillow. It was her escape... for a time...

5. THIS piece of dialogue from The Quiet Closet. I was so proud of this. It was the first piece of smut I not only wrote seriously but posted. And this dialogue to me is just... oof. Um NSFW by the way.

"You," she growled. "You make me weak."

"You like it," he whispered teasingly, his finger massaging her below.

"I hate it. I despise it. I despise you."

Asatrion laughed, slipping a second finger over her. She attempted to sink down again to feel his knee, but found his grasp on her wrists were far too tight. She looked up at them helpless, leaving her neck open for his taking. He caressed over it, licking it to taste her flesh and biting slightly over her throat, thoughts tempting his darker nature. But he had sworn it wouldn't happen again. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter the circumstances, he would only take what she gave. Ferelith may have enjoyed losing control in that moment, but that didn't change her need to command other things. It seemed a bit odd to his taste, but all the same fascinating. And he wanted to explore it further.

"Tell me more," he demanded. "Tell me how much you hate me."

She dropped when he loosened his grips, her back relaxing down the wall. With a gentle nudge, his knee rose up to meet her and he felt her hips sway against him. He moved his fingers in motion, straightening them as she came in like a rolling tide.

"I hate how charming I find you," her eyes closed and her voice sound as if she were in a trance. "I hate that you make me laugh."

She inhaled quickly as he pressed harder into her core, her head hitting the wall as she reared back. He felt her body tighten and urged her forward with his knee.

"Go on," he said, baring witness to the moments of joy on her face.

"I hate the sound of your voice," she lowered her brow with concentration. "I hate how attracted I am to you."

The heat from her body was making him crave her, now, and he could feel himself growing excited at the quickness of her breath. Her spite made it all the better. The more anger she released, the stronger her movements became, and the longer his strokes became. It became difficult to hold onto her and her hands slipped through his grasp as he tried to ground himself, his hand slamming onto the wall.

"I hate this constant desire I have for you..."

Her hands dug into his hair, feeling the back of his skull. The sensation of her nails scratching against his scalp brought him closer. His hand skipped up the wall as he faltered for a moment, his face buried in her hair. The fragrance she gave was enticing, as it always was.

"... this desire to feel you. Next to me. Against me. Inside me..."

Slowly, her hands slid down to his shoulders. One remained, gripping tightly. While the other slithered up his neck, her fingers finding their grasp on either side of his face. He did not fight her pull to bring him to her gaze.

"Still... If I believe for one second you'll betray me..." she said through heavy pants, "I'll kill you."

And uh yeah... 2020 was a pretty productive year. I think I really got back into fanfiction and posting things and being more active here on Tumblr. And I’ve met some really cool people because of it. Now I’m dabbling in other fandoms and everyone has been so supportive and amazing. It’s just really wonderful. Thank you guys! And I look forward to reading more stuff from everyone.

#dwjp writes #dwip writing tag #strange fates #whispers in the garden #voices of the fade #astarion x ferelith #aeva x solas #aeva lavellan #ferelith moondshade #claira trevelyan

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vorish-musing · 4 years

Text

Could This Day Get Any Worse?

Hey everyone, guess who’s back from a hiatus! I hope y’all like this re/animat/or story!

Summary: Herbert was trying to make a new batch of reagent, But a mix up of ingredients makes him discover...something different

Warnings: this story contains soft, safe vore, shrinking, fearplay,Digestion mentions (doesn’t happen), cursing

Spoiler Warnings: this story contains spoilers for the movie re/ani/mator, so if you haven’t watched it, I’d recommend doing so!

“Just one more drop” Herbert West spoke to himself as he held a dropper full of neon Blue liquid in his hand. He squeezed the dropper as carefully as possible, releasing the liquid in a beaker full of Yellow serum. Herbert watched as the colour of the two liquids combined created his Reagent, Bright Neon green.

Though His excitement at seeing his reagent distracted him when he stood up, not realizing that as he put down the dropper, a few more drops of the Blue liquid dripped into the beaker. He swiftly turned and made his way out of his Lab-Basement, taking off his gloves and placing them on a shelf.

Dan Cain sat on his couch, his legs laying across in a relaxed way, he was reading a medical book, hoping that Dean Halsey would call any minute, saying he wasn’t a mindless zombie anymore and allowing him back in the school. It wasn’t fair that he was kicked out of the school because Herbert was crazy.

It seemed that even thinking about the mad scientist made him appear, as Herbert swung the door open, making Dan jump at the loud noise.

“I’ve finished the new batch” Herbert called, adjusting his glasses, without another word, he fled back into the basement, expecting Dan to follow. Dan just sighed, putting down his book and following the man down.

As he got to the bottom of the stairs, Herbert was transferring the Reagent into a syringe, placing it on the table and looking up at Dan, with that mad smile of his.

While the Reagents colour changed slightly, more blue than green, Herbert was too eager to notice.

“Get the handout of the Fridge” Herbert spoke, pointing to the mini fridge “I want to see what happens when we put the reagent into it”

“West, this isn’t going to work” Dan looked almost annoyed but complied with Herbert’s wishes. “A hand doesn’t have a heart, brain or anything but muscle, veins and bone”

Dan opened the fridge, his face paling a bit at the sight of the severed hand in a medical bag. He couldn’t believe he was actually caught up in this mess. He grabbed the hand, which was in a plastic medical bag, walking back to Herbert, placing it on the table.

“Yes it may not work, Dan,” Herbert picked the syringe back up, “But it doesn’t hurt to try, correct?” he flicked the syringe, letting a bit squirt out of the needle, testing to see if the syringe is working. Dan just sighed, letting the mad scientist do what he wants.

Without looking up at dan, Herbert brought the syringe closer to Dan, “Hold this, I need to get the bag op-”

“oW!”

Herbert turned to Dan, surprised at the sound. It turned out that Dan was not paying attention as well, getting his arm pricked with the syringe, some of the Reagent being injected into him.

Herbert’s eyes went wide, pulling the syringe out, throwing it on the table. He grabbed onto Dans arm.

“Shitshitshit!” Dan pulled his arm back “what the fuck is going to happen to me!”

“I’m afraid don’t know!” Herbert shook his head “I never put it in a living person.” his voice was defeated, almost horrified at his own actions.

Dan paled even more, anything could happen to him, he could spontaneously combust, melt, or just die! He panicked, freezing up. Herbert just stared at Dan, watching the man silently panic about his own demise.

Dans head began to spin, it started very slow, but began making him dizzier and dizzier as it got faster. His vision became very blurry, and his brain felt like it was about to explode, Dan held his head in pain, hoping that what he had was just a migraine, and not anything worse.

Herbert stared at Dan, who seemed to be getting ...Herbert shook his head, double taking. He's not really….

“Dan….” Herbert spoke, his voice cracking out of pure shock “are you getting...smaller?”

Dan opened his eyes, wanting to give Herbert an angry look, but noticed he wasn't looking down at Herbert anymore, but eye level with the man, he looked down at himself, he almost felt sick

“What...What’s happening to me?!”

Herbert just silently watched in disbelief as his friend shrunk down more and more, he yelled loudly, trying to get Herbert to do anything!

When Dan finally stopped shrinking, the pounding in his head stopped as well. His breath was heavy, he held himself, shaking slightly.

Herbert slowly crouched down to Dan, his eyes not leaving the tiny figure He was so… small! Herbert could hold him in his hand!

Dan Looked back up at Herbert, backing up slightly. Lucky him he was stuck with a Mad Scientist, who knows what Herbert wanted to do with him

But Herbert wasn’t thinking about that now, all he cared about was his friend, who he had shrunk. “Dan, Are you alright”

“Alright…” Dan repeated quietly, just loud enough for Herbert to hear, his blood began to boil at the question. “Alright?! You're asking me if I’m alright?!”

“Come on Dan-” Herbert tried calming the angry man down, but Dan didn’t stop.

“I’m three inches tall West! What do you think?!” Dan flinched back as Herbert held a hand up, trying to silence the man, but scaring him in the process.

“All I was asking was if you feel alright, I understand you’re not physically well.” Herbert put his hand down, shocked at the panicked look Dan was giving him “You know Dan, this was a complete accident, and I have no intention of hurting you.”

His voice remained very calm, like when Dan would calm down Megan, but on the inside, his mind was racing, he just discovered a shrinking agent, as well as a reagent, and he had no idea how he did it!

Dan huffed, calming slightly, not enough to calm completely though. “I feel...fine. I felt dizzy before hand, but now I feel like I felt before.”

Herbert smiled slightly, “good” he looked between the table and Dan, carefully placing his hand near Dan, palm up. “Do you mind?”

Dan backed up, seeing Herbert placing his hand down near him, staring at the Scientists palm. He looked back up at Herbert, who was just patiently waiting.

“What are you gonna do?” He didn’t mean to make it sound so hostile, but he was just so small, and anything at this point could hurt him.

“I’m just going to the table Dan, it’s not that big of a deal, I may be a Scientist, but I would never do anything to hurt my friend.”

Dan hesitated for a few moments longer, and Herbert allowed him to take all the time he needed. Finally, Dan made his way to Herbert’s hand, carefully climbing on top of it.

Herbert smiled, then stood up, using his other hand as a shield so Dan couldn’t possibly fall off. Dan held Herbert’s hand tightly, shivering at the air flying past him, he didn't dare look down, he didn’t want to be reminded that a two foot drop for him before is now a 20 foot drop.

When Herbert placed his hand on the table, Dan scrambled off of it, wanting to be more secure.

“The reagent must’ve been wrong, not the correct measurements of ingredients” as Herbert spoke, his eyes trailed over to the dropper he had left, noticing it was leaking the blue liquid. His eyes went wide. “I created a Shrinking agent.” he smiled slightly. “Dr. Gruber would be impressed, wouldn’t he?”

Dan just nodded, staring at the puddle as well. “You better know how to fix me” he laughed, clearly trying to hide the confusion and anxiety in his voice.

Herbert turned his head back to Dan “I’ll start an antidote as soon as possible Dan, you won’t stay like this forever”

Dan walked over to the Scientist “Y-You better, or I’ll…”

Herbert grinned, “you’ll what? Pull out an arm hair? Bite me? Sorry to tell you this Dan, but you’re a bit powerless right now.” his grin faded, seeing how Dan reacted.

Dan frowned, offended at the comment, he knew it was true, he was pretty helpless in this situation, but being painfully aware of it wasn’t helping his mental state.

“Don’t look like that” Herbert shook his head slightly “I’m sure there's things you can do. You can always test your strength.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Dan asked, tilting his head, intrigued.

Herbert reached for a Pencil on the other side of the table, placing it in front of the shrunken man. Instinctively, Dan backed up.

“Pick it up.”

“Why.”

“You want to see how strong you are, correct?”

Dan sighed loudly, knowing that if he couldn’t pick it up, Herbert would laugh at him, but he didn’t want the Scientist to push him to do it more.

Without another word, Dan gripped the giant pencil, pulling it up. He struggled a bit as he did so but got it off the ground. Dan smiled at the success.

Herbert watched, joining Dan in smiling. He was proud of the young doctor.

Dan, about to gloat about how he wasn’t helpless, soon realized, he wasn’t holding the pencil at an equal length, and he was tipping over. Dan tried balancing the pencil out, but as he did so, he moved closer and closer to the ledge

Herbert only realized when it was too late, Dans foot slipping, the man crying out before letting go of the pencil and falling off the edge.

“Dan!” Herbert yelled, attempting to catch the freefalling man, only for him to slip through his fingers.

Dan yelled, terrified of the inevitable, when he hit the ground, he would splatter.

But the so called ‘inevitable’ never came.

Dan hit the ground hard, he layer frozen for a couple of seconds, enough for Herbert to freak out, yelling out angrily, that he allowed this to happen.

Dan opened his eyes, surprised he was still alive, he moved his fingers, and he still had feeling, he just couldn’t feel any pain. He was sure that he should be dead, but he clearly wasn’t

“My god…” Herbert whispered, seeing Dan still moving, his eyes were wide.

Dan sat up slowly, feeling the rest of his body, not a bruise forming, much less a broken bone anywhere.

“I’m… Fine.” Dan laughed, horrified and in shock. “I’m fine! Powerless my ass”

“Not a scratch…fascinating.” Herbert held his hand out to dan, who climbed on eagerly. Herbert stood up, placing dan back on the table. “Your body must be condensed enough that you can’t be hurt as easily as we do.”

Dan was about to ask more questions, but he was cut off by a pounding on the door, making the two men turn their heads.

“Mr. West.” the voice was none other than Dr. Hill, Herbert could tell from anywhere. There was more pounding on the door, Herbert was thankful it was closed.

“Shit…” Dan spoke “what do we do.”

“He won’t leave on his own, he’s too stubborn, or idiotic.” Herbert sighed “You need to hide...now.”

Dan felt his heart drop as Herbert spoke this, all the emotion he had was replaced with a serious, stern look. Herbert began grabbing all the Reagent, and the shrinking serum, putting it in a cabinet and locking it tight.

“If Hill finds you, who knows what he’d do.” Herbert spoke Dr. Hills name like it was poisonous to hear. He treated it like a slur, embarrassed he would even speak the plagiarists name.

“There's nowhere to hide West!” Dan refused to hide below the table, or in a cabinet, the basement was dingy and dirty, who knows what kind of rodents or bugs lived down here.

As Herbert thought, a lightbulb went off in his head. His eyes lit up at the thought. He could just… put Dan in his mouth, which also allowed him not to speak to Dr. Hill, so...win win?

Dan paused, seeing a familiar look in Herbert’s eye, he had a sinking feeling. “What?”

“Well if you’re willing to hear me out,” Herbert began, making Dan groan. He knew it was one of the Scientists schemes again, “If I put you in my mouth…”

Dan wasn’t prepared for those words; he knew he didn’t mishear him. “You… WHAT?!” Dan backed up instantaneously, he knew Herbert was wild, but this? Outright insane!

“Now hold on.” Herbert shushed the tiny, hearing the banging on the door became louder. “If you hide there, Hill won’t find you, I don't have to speak to him. We both get what we want”

“You could bite me in half!” Dan yelled, the thought of Herbert doing that was enough to make him sick

“Human teeth aren't razor sharp, Dan” Herbert spoke, almost pleading, “it would take force to Bifurcate your body, I wouldn’t ever do that.” Herbert held his hand out “We don’t have a lot of options, not to mention we don’t have a lot of time.”

Dan hesitated for a few moments, trying to think of a better option, but the calling from the top of the stairs and the banging was making him panic even more.

“You better be right, West” Dan moved to the hand, shaking profusely, he was about to be put in his friends’ mouth, and if he was found by Dr. Hill, could be taken away.

Herbert sighed in relief, glad that Dan came around to the idea, he lifted his hand, once again using his other hand as a shield. “Don’t move when inside, I don’t want to give this away.”

Dan just nodded, not saying a word, hoping this plan wasn’t going to go wrong.

Herbert brought Dan to his mouth, his breath blowing on the shrunken man, Dan was grateful it didn’t smell bad. Herbert carefully wrapped his index and thumb around Dan, lifting him up, still holding his other hand below the tiny man.

Dan watched Herbert like a deer in the headlights, only slightly reacting when the Man opened his mouth. Dan gripped the fingers holding him tightly, taking deep breaths. He cringed as Herbert placed him on his tongue. His clothes almost instantly soaked in saliva.

Herbert Closed his mouth, moving Dan carefully with his tongue, he felt the man move a bit, probably protesting, and he stifled a laugh. Herbert moved to a mirror, checking if he looked out of the ordinary. As he did this, the man noticed something strange…

Dan tasted pretty good, not how he expected at all, he had expected it to be weird, terrible even, but the man’s taste was almost enough to make him salivate.

No no no, don’t you dare Herbert West, you are not going to think about eating your only friend….

Dan lied on the wet tongue, trying to keep himself calm. He kept his head down, not wanting to look at the dark throat that was before him. But even if he wasn’t looking at it, his mind continued to wander.

I could fit down that, if Herbert isn’t careful I could….no no don’t think of that, it's not possible, it can’t be possible, he would choke before I could get in… don’t think about that...god don’t think about that!

The scientist smiled, it didn’t even look like he had anything in his mouth, much less a person! Herbert turned, walking up the stairs, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Its now or nothing. Herbert unlocked the door, swinging it open.

Dr. Hill stared at the shorter scientist, if looks could kill, Herbert would be dead where he stood. Herbert sent a glare back, turning away from the plagiarist, heading down the stairs.

Dr. Hill quickly composed himself, following Herbert down. “ Good Evening, Mr. West.” He hissed at the young scientist, “I would like to speak with you on an important matter.”

When Herbert didn't respond, Dr. Hill got more intense “I want to know about Dean Halsey, his heart rate is erratic, and his pulse is nowhere to be found.”

Herbert paused, his heartbeat quickening at the mention of Dean Halsey. He had hoped Dr. Hill would have mis-diagnosed him by now.

Dan tried to listen as best as he could, but it was hard over Herbert’s heartbeat and his breathing, not to mention the wet noises he made on the man's tongue, he let out a quiet groan, hoping the interaction would end as soon as possible.

Herbert gave Dr. Hill a look of confusion, but still refused to talk to the man. He would give anything to yell at the man to leave, that he knew nothing of what happened to Halsey and get Hill as far away from the house as possible.

“My question is.” Dr. Hill paused, his eye twitching at the utter disrespect. “How does he yell out in pain, when we both know, he’s very much dead”

Herbert’s Heart skipped a beat. No, no, no…. This can’t be happening…not now… not with dan here...

Dr. Hill laughed, seeing Herbert’s face turn from an annoyed to a scared expression. “Cat got your tongue Mr. West?” Dr. Hill came closer to Herbert, making the young scientist back down a bit. “Where is it, West?””

Herbert pinned Dan to the roof of his mouth, swallowing the excess saliva, not wanting to drown Dan. As much as he wanted to cuss the Plagiarist out, he knew he couldn't without outing Dans hiding spot.

“Where is the Reagent, Herbert.” Dr. Hill grabbed Herbert by his shirt, pulling him closer “I know you have it!”

Oh god Herbert get away from him. Dan thought, his heart almost pounding out of his chest. He felt Herbert tilt his head down, keeping his face away from Dr. Hill.

“Answer me, dammit” Hill shook Herbert back and forth, who just took it, not making a single noise.

I’m sorry Dan, Herbert thought to himself, knowing what he was going through must’ve been worse for his shrunken friend.

“Fine! Have it your way!” Dr. Hill, who finally gave up on Herbert, Pushed the man down to the floor. He turned back to the stairs “Don’t think this is the end of It West!”

Herbert’s head hit the concrete floor, making himself swallow instinctively, the pounding in his head from the impact made it so he couldn’t even notice he was swallowing his friend.

Dan felt the impact just as much as it was, he who was falling down, the impact making him slip back a bit, so it took him a moment to realize that Herbert had swallowed.

That was until he felt the throat muscles begin to massage him into it.

“West!” Dan Yelled, his body being pulled down into the hungry throat, legs first. “West! Please! Stop!” Dan clawed at the man's tongue, trying to hang on the best he could but, it proved to be too slippery to aid him in his escape.

He was on a one-way ticket down Herbert West's gullet.

As Herbert finally came to, he heard the front door slam, meaning Dr. Hill had left. It made him giggle, the thought of how angry Dr. Hill was because of him brought joy to the man. Without thinking, he swallowed again, feeling a strange lump in his throat.

Herbert let out a sigh of relief, he was worried for a minute that Dr. Hill would have found Dan in his mouth…

He finally realized his mouth was empty, and he was sure he kept it closed as he fell. The pieces began to click into place

Dan ... the strange lump… it was.

“Caine!” Herbert yelled, grabbing his throat, feeling the last of the man move down into his esophagus.

Dan heard Herbert’s call to him, and his heart rate speed up, more than before, he yelled back to Herbert, pleading for the man to get him out.

Herbert cringed at the feeling of Dan fighting and sliding down his esophagus, it didn’t hurt, but knowing it was happening made him hyperfocus on every single detail.

It felt even weirder when Dan landed in his stomach.

“West!” Dan yelled as he entered the scientist's stomach. No this can’t be happening, shit! Dan pushed on the stomach walls surrounding him, “West let me out!”

Herbert looked down at his stomach, horrified that he could actually SEE Dans movement. He put a hand to his head, what was he going to do?

“Caine stay calm!” Herbert spoke, even though he knew it was no use, the man wasn’t going to calm down “I can’t get you out if you’re squirming like that!” He placed his other hand on his stomach.

“calm ? you want me to be CALM?!’ Herbert winced, feeling Dan kick him, very hard. “How can you tell me to be calm?! You ATE me Herbert! I could be dead in minutes! Let! Me! Out” Dan pushed against the organ surrounding him.

Throughout all the man's yelling, a lightbulb went off in Herbert’s head. Dan should’ve started digesting by now, he was in there for a few minutes, something should have at least begun to tingle by now.

His mind went back to dan falling off the table, he survived that with no damage left behind. Could this be the same case? If the serum condensed his molecules like Herbert theorized, that would mean Dan was too dense to digest, which meant he wouldn’t be hurt!

“Dan” Herbert spoke, feeling quite awkward speaking out loud to his stomach, “I need you to answer something for me” he could feel the tiny man squirm in confusion “Do you feel any pain, or even anything wrong overall?!”

Dan was about to start yelling once again, Dan's life was in danger, and Herbert was playing games with him. But then, Herbert’s words registered in his mind. If anything felt wrong, I can list 200 things that feel wrong right now.

But the more he thought about it, he realized. He felt hot, wet and disgusted by all of this, but he didn’t feel any pain.

Dan looked down at the small pool of liquid that he was sitting in, he thought the reason he couldn’t feel anything was because of his clothes, but clearly that wasn’t the case. He pulled up his pant leg, expecting it to be bubbly and a bit digested.

There was nothing. His leg looked completely fine. He even stared at it for a few moments, waiting for it to start burning, but…

“Dan? Dan are you okay” Herbert’s heart skipped a beat, not getting any reply from his friend, “Dan?” Herbert pushed on his stomach, directly where Dan was. He felt the shrunken man squirm around, and it almost made Herbert laugh.

“Nothing” Dan called up, confusing Herbert “Oh my god I feel nothing!”

Herbert’s eyes widen, a smile forms on his lips.

“I was right!” he stood up, grabbing the pencil from before, “You’re not digesting! And you probably never will!” the man stood up.

Dan flinched and the sudden movement, the stomach sloshing him around with every step Herbert made “What?!”

“the serum made you indestructible! No matter how hard my body tries, it can’t digest you!”

He took the pencil, grabbed his notebook, and began writing his discovery down, laughing out of pure ecstasy.

“I don’t believe it...How is this even possible?!”

“Jesus Christ Dan, we bring people back from the dead and you don’t believe this?!” Herbert patted his stomach “this is fantastic! If Dr. Gruber could see us now…”

Dan let out a yelp at Herbert’s response, pushing back at his hand “don’t do that! Its already bad enough that I’m in here, you don’t need to patronize me!”

“Can’t you see Dan; this could change the world as we know it!” Herbert spoke, ignoring the tone in Dans voice. He ran to the cabinet, grabbing both of the bottles he had hid “these two serums throw out everything we know about the human body and what it's capable of!”

Herbert continued to write down his notes as he spoke, writing the formula for his new shrinking serum “ doctors wouldn't be able to make a mistake if the can see things regular sized people wouldn't, and we wouldn’t have to worry about overpopulation either!”

As he was blathering on, he felt a hard punch to his liver, knocking him down on the spot, he held his stomach, shocked that Dan would do such a thing.

Dan gasped as he too felt the impact of the fall, he had no idea that would be the reaction he had caused, but in some way, he believed Herbert did deserve it, after all, Herbert shrunk and ate him!

Now having Herbert’s full attention, Dan spoke loudly “Well that’s all fine and well but I think you’re missing one great detail… I’m still in here!”

Herbert rubbed his sore belly, “Right… Of course,” he felt a bit of guilt, he had almost forgotten that Dan was even in there… it became weirdly normal to him. “I got a bit ahead of myself”

“A bit?” Dan replied sarcastically.

Herbert stood up, still holding his stomach. The man sighed, how am I supposed to do this?! He thought to himself, throwing up might make him suffocate, I am not going to cut him out, definitely not.

Dan yelped as the stomach walls around him began to squish him, tightening so much that he could barely move. Out of instinct, Dan squirmed, kicked and began yelling “West?! West! What the hell is going on?!”

Herbert Winced at Dans movement, he was pushing with both hands on his stomach, trying to forcefully push Dan up into his esophagus, after a few moments, he gave up, letting go of his stomach, falling into a coughing fit.

“Herbert?!” Dan yelled once more; he had stopped flailing once the walls around him loosened.

Herbert finally caught his breath, “that didn’t work.” he could hear Dan laugh at him, of course it wouldn’t work. “Maybe if we try-”

Herbert’s thought was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, making the two men freeze in their places.

Not Again Herbert turned, grabbing the bottles of serum and hiding them in the cabinet once more, this time with his notebook. If that plagiarism is back, I am going to get rid of him… Dr. Gruber would like that.

Dan listened to Herbert’s heartbeat as it sped up. Yes, Herbert seemed like a confident man, but on the inside, he was nervous, the fact that it could not be Dr. Hill worried him even more, it could be the police, or just a random man who heard all the commotion.

“It would be a bad idea if you don’t answer, it would seem suspicious.” Dan spoke, leaning against the wall “I’ll stay quiet, go answer the door.”

Dan laughed, but he didn’t feel any joy. Why did people have to show up today?! Why couldn’t it be sometime else, when he wasn’t in this situation.

West nodded, fixing himself up as he climbed the stairs, he took a deep breath, patting his stomach one last time. Dan sighed, patting back, he knew Herbert was panicking, he could hear it all around him.

Herbert stopped in his tracks, he wasn’t prepared for that. It actually felt nice, as Herbert thought, he realized that when neither of them were freaking out, this actually felt quite pleasant.

Herbert heard the doorbell once more, bringing him out of his thoughts, he opened the door to the Living room, then marched to the front door, the basement door closing behind him.

Herbert grabbed the Knob, twisting it as he spoke “one ring is quite enough” as the door swung open, Herbert’s eyes widened.

Megan stood there, her eyes a bit puffy, her face red either from crying or from just plain anger, she gave Herbert one look, before pushing past him inside.

She looked around the living room “Where’s Dan” she spoke, her words filled with anger. “We need to talk right now”

Herbert sighed, “Miss Halsey I don’t have a clue where he would be.” he shut the door, crossing his arms. While he wasn’t a fan of Meg, he knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Dans heart stopped as he heard Megan's name, he gently pushed his head on the wall in an attempt to hear their conversation through the layers of muscle, fat tissue and skin. While it was still slightly muffled, he could hear exactly what they were saying.

Meg moved from room to room, looking for Dan, Herbert watched, stifling laughter as he knew her searching wouldn’t help. She looked back at the Scientist standing by the door, glaring at his face, he gave an amused expression, like he knew something she didn’t.

And he did know something that she didn’t.

Her eyes turned to the basement door, Herbert shook his head, quickly moving in front of it before she made it to the knob. “Miss Halsey he isn’t here.” Herbert spoke more sternly, but it didn’t phase her, she just put her hand up to silence him.

Her eyes were staring into him, that answer was not good enough for her. “Fine…” She said, quieter “Then what did you do to him.”

Herbert was taken aback for her words, “Excuse me?!”

“You did something to him, you killed him didn’t you?!” her voice cracked as if she was about to cry, she glared daggers into the man before her and tears threatened her eyes “Just like Rufus you did something to him!”

She tried pushing Herbert away from the door, but he didn’t move, he just kept staring, shocked at the accusations she was throwing out.

“Meg I’m okay…” Dan spoke, quiet enough that Herbert couldn’t even hear. His heart ached, her father was just reanimated into an insane creature, and now she thought he was gone too? He wanted to call out to her and promise her everything would be okay, but he knew things would get a whole lot worse if he exposed himself. Dan sighed, could this day get any worse?!

Herbert’s eyes narrowed, he glared right back at Meg, making her shrink back a bit. For all she knew, she was challenging a serial killer.

“Miss Halsey” She took a step back, and he took a step forward “if you are accusing me of doing anything to Dan, I assure you that--”

“Not Dan!” She yelled, her look changing to a confused expression, she couldn’t keep herself composed anymore “What did you do to my Father!”

Herbert blinked, surprised. “Is that it?”

“What did you do?!” She yelled even louder “he’s… he’s grey, constantly spitting up blood, he looks like a… Like a…” She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t want what she was thinking to be true.

“A corpse.” Herbert finished her sentence, as if he was reading her mind. All she did was stare back at him “We did all we could do for now. I can explain it all to you” Herbert turned, gesturing to the basement, then looked back at her “I can explain everything, Dean Halsey, the cat, Dan.”

Meg was almost like a statue, she didn’t know what to do, this could be a trap, she didn’t know what was in her, but she nodded, watching Herbert open the door quickly, motioning for her to follow.

She just followed.

Herbert lead her to the basement, she cautiously followed behind him, her eyes frantically checking every which way to see if it was a bad idea, her gut was telling her to run, but she just needed to know what the hell was going on.

West felt a small kick from Dan, who was clearly unhappy with the current situation.

She’s not ready… she won’t be able to handle this. Dan thought as he pushed and pounded on the stomach walls in protest. Even though he was still unsure of all the crazy things Herbert would do, what the hell was the scientist thinking?

Herbert pulled out the stool, motioning to her to sit down. Meg hesitated at first, but sat down without another word.

Herbert put up his hand in a ‘one moment’ gesture, before turning around, and walking over to the other side of the room, unlocking the cabinet, grabbing his notebook, and the two bottles of serum.

As he did this, there was another kick, he groaned slightly, while they didn’t hurt, they were still annoying as hell.

“Herbert!?” the muffled sound of Dans voice called to him, luckily too muffled for Meg to hear, “What the hell are you doing, West?!”

Herbert responded, decided that it was a safe bet to speak, if he was quiet enough, “trust me, we couldn’t keep this from her much longer, she already knew about Dean Halsey, it was only a matter of time until she knew about everything.”

“You’re not gonna tell her I’m in here, you can’t” Dan looked around in the darkness, if she knew he was in here, that would send her over the deep end! Dan took a deep breath, attempting to speak in a calmer tone “Get me out of here first West. She’ll trust me more than you”

“I won’t tell her if it’s not necessary” Herbert scoffed at dans words “She’ll believe a two inch person? She’ll faint upon seeing you!” he hushed the tiny person in his stomach.

Meg just watched as Herbert had a single sided conversation with himself, her eyes were wide and her face was full of unease, did she really allow herself to walk into the layer of a crazy mad scientist? She just stayed silent and watched him, in fear of calling him out for his actions.

Herbert finally stood up with the book and bottles in his hands, ignoring the pushing and prodding from Dan, who had stopped speaking as soon as the mad got up. He walked to the table, placing the things down in front of her. He stood on the other side of the table, Meg just looked at the bottles...then back at him….then back at the bottles.

She finally noticed the bright glowing reagent, which she instantly recognized. “That's the stuff that was in the fridge when Rufus was--”

“Yes, Miss Halsey. It's also the thing that brought that beast of a cat back to life” he spoke, not even easing his way through the discovery. Meg just gave him a disbelieving look, like she was surprised that he was even trying to convince her. “Do you remember when you barged into the basement, Dan and I were there, and the cat was alive!”

Meg's heart dropped, she did remember that day, she remembered that Rufus was found in Herbert’s fridge, and how she came downstairs, and he was alive, mangled up, she couldn’t get the memory out of her head.

She didn’t like where this was going, this couldn’t be true, death couldn’t be defeated, he must have fooled her somehow “He… He couldn’t have been dead, we must’ve been wrong somehow”

Herbert scoffed, rolling his eyes “You and Dan sound like twins, both of you don’t want to believe what’s in front of your eyes!” he hit his fist on the table out of frustration, making meg and Dan jump “The cat was dead, so was the body in the morgue, but I brought them back!”

Dan turned to face the stomach wall “Herbert STOP!” he yelled as loud as he could. He immediately covered his mouth, he didn’t mean to do it, he lost control of himself. Herbert was being too forceful.

Meg, hearing the yell, shot up like a bullet. “What was that?!” she looked around the room, she was sure she heard Dans voice, but it was quiet and muffled, like he was hiding somewhere far away.

Herbert turned a bright red, his eyes basically bulging out of his head, he grabbed his stomach out of horror, he could feel Dan had gone still, very still. This was not good.

He moved his hand until he could feel Dans whole body, and he pushed in slightly, did the man pass out? Hopefully that's the worst that could happen. He ignored Meg for a moment, he tried to feel anything, a twitch, a slight hand movement….

Breathing…. He could feel Dan breathing, his chest going up and down rapidly, clearly the poor man was terrified of what he did.

It's okay Dan…. Herbert thought, It’s going to be okay…. I need to write this down.

He turned his attention back to Meg, who was still looking around, not paying attention to him at all “I… I didn’t hear anything” Herbert turned away, grabbing a pencil and his notebook, writing as quickly as possible. “You should sit back down.”

“What's going on?!” She yelled “I can’t do this anymore, West! What the hell is going on?! I heard something!” she put her hands on her head “You say you bring things back from the dead and you just expect me to believe this with no proof?! I’m no idiot, and you won’t fool me like one!”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t have a corpse to convince you, but it’s true.” Herbert sighed loudly, holding the bridge of his nose, “Dean Hasley was enough for Hill, but not enough for you” Herbert spoke softer, as if he was talking to himself instead of her.

When he looked back up at her, he saw those angry misty eyes once more, she was holding it back, but clearly that comment hit her pretty hard. She quickly wiped her eyes

“Can you fix him?” she didn’t ask, it was more of a plea, she just wanted her father back.

“That's what I’m trying to develop.”

She looked back at the table “Is that what this is?” she dropped her tone, trying to reason with the scientist, she pointed to the Shrinking serum, glowing softly.

Herbert shook his head “it's a shrinking agent, I made it this evening.” she cocked her head to the side, but before she could ask a question, Herbert continued, “it was an accident, its fascinating what I’ve found out about it in a few hours. While it shrinks people to only a few inches, it makes them virtually indestructible, here, ready my note-- Miss Halsey are you alright?” he paused, seeing her face.

She stared at Herbert with a disbelieving gaze, but her brain was putting the pieces together. “How do you know all of this…” her voice trailed off as she spoke “to know these things you would have to use that on someone.

Herbert shrugged, putting his hands up in a “you got me” motion “we’re asking where Dan was, weren’t you Miss Halsey.”

Dan panicked, he was shaking badly, anxiety flowing through his body like it was his own blood. He didn’t know what to do, should he call out to her, tell her he’s fine? But what would her reaction be… would she call the cops?

What would she tell the cops? Does this count as cannibalism? Attempted murder? Even though he wasn’t really happy about being inside of Herbert, at least he was completely safe, and the longer he was in here, the less afraid he was,

Meg didn’t speak for a few moments, then her eyes narrowed, her voice was low, but definitely not calm, “you must think I’m so stupid” she almost expected this trick from Herbert, but why would Dan do this to her? This wasn’t funny, this was downright cruel. “I’m not going to believe this stupid joke you two are playing.”

Herbert sighed, he had hoped he could get through to her, he shook his head “I assure you that I’m not joking, I promise you.” he tried talking her down, using a calmer voice.

“Oh yeah?” She nodded, crossing her arms “then where is he, where's my shrunken boyfriend Herbert?”

Herbert looked away, his face turning a bit red “I can’t tell you, you won’t believe me” he placed his hand back on his stomach, he could feel Dan shaking profusely, moving around.

Meg glared, moving to the table and grabbing the bottle, she couldn’t hold her anger back, she too was shaking, but not because she was afraid. “So this is supposed to shrink me, huh? You really are nuts goddamnit….nuts”

Herbert’s eyes widened as she picked it up “put that down!” he frantically spoke “ you have no idea how powerful that is, hell, even I don’t know everything about it!”

She let out an angry scoff, putting it down, “prove it, prove how powerful it is.” She turned around, holding both of her hands “You’re crazy, Herbert. I get why my father kicked you out of Miskatonic… and why Gruber didn’t want you around”

Herbert’s face turned red, “You want proof, I’ll give you proof” he was overwhelmed, he couldn't think about if it was a good idea or not, but he was going with it anyways.

Herbert grabbed a spare syringe, sticking it into the bottle, putting a tiny bit of the serum into it. He could feel push on his stomach, worried and confused. But as he heard what Herbert was saying, his stomach dropped. He knew what Herbert was thinking of doing.

“Herbert! Don't you dare do this!” his plea fell of deaf ears, so he resorted to kicking, calling out to Herbert.

Herbert moved over to Meg, carefully holding the needle. “Here's your proof.” he spoke matter of factly.

Meg turned around, ready to cuss Herbert out, but she was met with a needle gently being pushed into her arm, she yelled in shock, pushing the man away, but not quick enough, the serum going into her veins.

She backed up “What the hell is wrong….with...you?” she started to feel dizzier and dizzier with each word she spoke, her last one making her fall forward, Herbert catching her. He picked her body up, it shrinking in his hands, and he placed her onto the table carefully, letting the serum do what it did best.

“Dan, I’m sorry she didn’t want to listen to me. Maybe she’ll listen to you”

“Herbert don’t! If you even think about eating---”

“I don’t want to do this dan!” Herbert yelled, holding his stomach “She didn’t listen to me, if I had told her that I ate you, she would probably run, if she ended up believing me, she would tell as soon as possible, she trusts you more than me. If I can get through to her without swallowing her, then I won’t.”

“But Herbert don’t you--”

“I’ll try to explain, But if she doesn’t listen, she’ll have to talk with you, deal?” Herbert leaned his arms on the table, watching as she shrunk down to the same height as Dan, maybe even a bit shorter.

Dan wanted to retaliate, tell him that's not how it's going to happen, but he knew Herbert would not listen to him. “Deal. be careful with her, I love her”

Herbert rolled his eyes, “of course Dan.”

Meg covered her eyes, the lights above her burning them. Her head stopped spinning, and she felt overall okay, like nothing had happened. She slowly sat up, her eyes adjusting to the light around her.

She scanned her surroundings, she had no idea how she got there and where she was, everything looked the same, only much...much bigger.

“How’s this for proof, Miss Halsey”

His voice sent a shiver down her spine, it was so much louder than before, Herbert laughed softly at her reaction, it was like the air around her was vibrating. This felt like a dream to Meg, she slowly turned around to see Herbert, but she was met with a white collared shirt. Her head slowly turned upwards, finally meeting his eyes.

A giant….Herbert was giant…no… no she was tiny!

She wanted to scream, but it felt like all of her energy was taken away from her in that very moment, Herbert had a concerned, yet amused expression on his face.

“Megan” he finally spoke her name, which felt weird for him to be so informal “you’re alright, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Y-you…” She tried to speak, but the right words wouldn’t come to her, Herbert wasn’t lying like she had thought, which meant ....”Dan?” it didn’t sound like a question, but Herbert knew she was asking what happened to him.

“Everything I said was true, Dan being alright is no exception.” Herbert smiled ever so slightly, trying to make her feel more comfortable.

“Where is he?” she asked, looking around, but keeping Herbert in her peripheral. Herbert watched as she did this, trying to think of what to say.

“Well…” Herbert rubbed the back of his neck, he could feel Dan freeze up, he didn’t know what to say either. “I don’t know how to say this lightly, but he’s...in me”

Meg gave Herbert a confused look, like she wasn’t understanding what he was saying. Putting it lightly was not going to work.

Herbert placed a hand on his stomach, keeping eye contact with Meg. “I swallowed him”

That did the trick.

Her heart skipped a beat as he spoke those words, she stood right up, backing up slowly “You… you WHAT?! “ She yelled, then covered her mouth in shock, this couldn’t be true, Herbert wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that.

“It was an accident, long story short I was trying to hide him from Dr. Hill, and he slipped into my throat.” he saw the sickly look on Meg's face and continued “He’s okay, I promise you this. There's not a scratch on him”

She didn’t want to believe it, but it made sense, she did her Dans voice, and it was muffled, like he was behind something. Her boyfriend was trying to warn her, trying to get her out of there. This was all a ploy to get her vulnerable like this, she must be next.

Before Herbert could speak another word, Meg turned around, running as fast as she could. She didn’t care if she ended up falling off the edge, there would be better than where she was now.

Herbert sighed, watching the woman run across the table, he reached over carefully, placing his hand in front of her, she ran right into the leathery surface.

Before she could move around his hands, Herbert scooped her up, using his other hand as a safety net below so she wouldn’t fall...even though it would be fine even if she did.

Megan moved around, trying to get out of his grip, but every time she was close to the edge, Herbert would just simply cup his hand even more so she wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Listen to me Miss Halsey” Herbert spoke “I know this is hard to believe, but you’re going to be okay, so is Dan. We’ll do everything we can to help your father”

His words were not registering in her head, she didn’t want to listen, her body wouldn’t allow her to. Her heart was pounding out of her chest and her body was in fight or flight mode.

Herbert watched her, he made a disappointed noise, “Dan?” he called, sounding defeated. This made Meg stop, hearing that name.

Dan’s ears perked up hearing his name, “Herbert?!” he couldn’t hear much of what was going on, only hearing Herbert’s side of the conversation, he had hoped that the man had gotten through to her and he wasn’t going to eat her after all.

Meg felt sick to her stomach hearing Dan’s voice coming from Herbert’s middle

“Look out, you’re about to get company”

Meg’s eyes shot up as Herbert spoke “no…” she crawled in between the man's fingers trying to get away as fast as she could.

Herbert just sighed loudly, grabbing her with his free hand, and picking her up gently, she pushed at his fingers, trying to get him to drop her. It was no use unfortunately, she was bound to get eaten, her fighting must’ve been amusing for Herbert.

“Please!” she yelled as he rose her up, holding her by her shirt, leaving the rest of her to flail around “Please if you let Dan and I go, I promise we’ll never tell a soul”

“You won’t tell?” Herbert brought her closer, she nodded profusely “well that’s a relief” Meg smiled, she finally got through to the man, that smile faded as soon as he rose her higher, lifting his chin with her. She kept kicking, grabbing at his fingers, he showed no signs of stopping.

Herbert’s mind was racing, he had hoped that this was going to be as easy as Dan, but the chances were low. Sure, she had a much smaller frame than Dan, in that way she would go down easier, but she was terrified, she would fight, and it would hurt, but he didn’t see a better option.

Herbert slowly opened his mouth, holding her just above it. She flailed and kicked as much as she could, tears threatened her eyes, and she was not going to hold them back. “Damn you Herbert West!”

She kept yelling obscenities as he lowered her into his mouth, letting go once he was halfway inside, she fell onto the tongue with a soft squishing noise, he quickly closed his mouth, his teeth clacking softly shut, isolating her in his mouth, away from the rest of the world.

Megan pushed against his tongue, which got her, and her clothes almost completely soaked with one movement.

Herbert rolled his tongue around her, trying to get her as slick as possible so it would be easier on his throat. As he did this, he noticed that Meg had her own taste as well. It wasn’t like Dans, but it was still pretty great, he could get used to this, minus the fear and struggling. Herbert felt his stomach growl, now that he was thinking about it, it felt nice to have Dan inside, feeling so full.

All Dan could do was sit, carefully awaiting Megan's arrival. He could barely hear anything over Herbert’s stomach, it was practically cheering the man on, gurgling loudly and happily. He wondered if Herbert was enjoying this as much as his stomach was.

Herbert cringed as Meg kicked his teeth, not strong enough to break them, but enough for it to hurt like hell. She was making this as hard as she could, which was working. Herbert would attempt to pin her to the roof of his mouth, but she would easily wriggle out of his grip.

Finally, he had enough, he tilted his head as high as he could, swallowing as hard as he could.

She screamed as his throat muscles engulfed her legs, she tried her best to pull them out, it was no use, he swallowed again, she jerked forward into the throat even more, she tried scratching his tongue, maybe she could claw her way out.

This was worse than Dan, Herbert was in absolute agony, his preparations were no use, her fighting was awful on his throat, he had to swallow quickly and uncomfortably, which made it bad for both sides.

Meg was pulled into his throat completely in one final swallow, which made her yell out, but it was too late, she was never going to get out of this,

Herbert held his throat as she entered his esophagus, away from his windpipe, he let out a deep breath, in a hoarse voice, he called down to Dan “She’s all yours”

“Herbert? Are you okay?” Dan called back to him, he heard the heavy breathing, and the gravelly voice Herbert had.

Herbert patted his stomach, “try your best to tame her, I don’t know how much more of this I can take”

Dan heard the muffled yelling of meg get louder and louder, he stared up, waiting for her body to fall into Herbert’s stomach just like he did.

Meg seemed to slip faster and faster, sliding down Herbert’s throat with no issues, she pushed, she screamed, she tried everything to make him at least choke on her before the inevitable.

Her legs entered the man's stomach first, it was a strange feeling, having been in a space so tight she couldn’t move, to a space where she was able to move freely. She kicked wildly as soon as she could.

“Meg!” Dan yelled, grabbing onto her legs, helping her ease into Herbert’s stomach, he cringed as she flailed around, nearly hitting him multiple times “Meg! It's okay! It's okay!” she fell into Dans arms, collapsing, crying into his shoulder.

“Dan! Oh god Dan?!” Meg pulled away, “We have to get out of here! We’re gonna--”

Dan grabbed her arms, holding them so she couldn’t fight, she fell silent as he did this, he had never done anything like this before, he was usually afraid to put a hand on her.

“Meg I’ve been in here for a while, I haven’t even felt a tingle,” she was about to protest, but he shushed her carefully, “believe me Meg, we’re okay”

“But the shrinking thing...and the...the…” she couldn’t think of the right words, her mind was completely scrambled “but he ATE us!”

“Yes, I’ll admit, pretty weird,” Dan laughed, though Meg looked at him horrified “but We’re safe, how the hell and I alive if we aren’t?”

Meg tried to make a case for her horror, but she couldn’t find an explanation that made sense, Herbert ate them, they should be in danger… but dan was fine, she must’ve been fighting with Herbert for an hour, which is more than enough time for the stomach acid to attack. As she calmed ever so slightly, he let go of her hands, cradling her softly.

Herbert, finally catching his breath, decided to head upstairs, not wanting to mess with any more reagent.

Meg let out a gasp as they two lovers were sloshed around in Herbert’s stomach, she clung to Dan like a safety net. He grabbed onto her, holding her tightly.

“He’s just moving, you get used to it,” he patted her saliva covered head “Just think of it like a...waterbed”

Meg scoffed at the ridiculous comparison, but just nodded.

Herbert turned off the basement lights, retiring to his room. He took off his tie, unbuttoning a few buttons on his shirt. He looked down at his stomach, he laughed, seeing his skin slightly bulged out, containing the couple.

“I’m guessing from the lack of fighting, you got through to her, didn’t you Dan” he placed his hand on his stomach. He could feel one of them squirm, he knew it was Meg.

“It's okay Herbert!” Dan patted the stomach wall, Meg flinched hearing Herbert's voice all around her, this was insane.

“Miss Halsey, I apologize for not explaining in depth, but unfortunately I knew you wouldn’t listen. So, I had to resort to this”

“Resort to this?!” she yelled loudly, but surprisingly, not out of anger, she just had no idea if he could hear her or not “I think you could’ve done a few other things instead of this!”

“Meg you and I both know that you wouldn’t believe him even if you wanted to” Dan sighed

“Well I believe you now!” she called “so let us out!”

Herbert stopped in his tracks, he completely forgot about that, and Dan had also realized at the same time as Herbert.

“Unfortunately,…” Herbert began, trying to speak as delicately as possible, not wanting her to get mad. “Well…”

“Herbert can’t right now” Dan spoke up for the scientist “We don’t really know a lot about what's happening right now” before Meg could begin to speak, Dan spoke up once more “We’ll figure it out, maybe we should just relax for tonight. Its late”

Herbert nodded, agreeing with him, “you two need some rest, and so do I. it may not seem like it to you but you both did a real number on me today” Herbert patted his stomach softly, ignoring the dull pain in his throat.

“Fine….” Meg huffed “But you better fix us, West. or I’ll do ten times worse tomorrow” she gave up on fighting at this point, she would just have to go with what they were saying and hope that she would wake up from this dream one day.

“You have my word, Miss Halsey” he smiled, sitting down on his bed, taking his shoes off. He didn’t care about his clothes right how, he would just sleep in them, he pulled the covers over himself, placing both of his hands on his stomach.

Dan laid back, spooning Meg, she turned around, laying on his chest, she listened to his breathing, which was on time with Herbert’s, she smiled, strangely enough, the noises around her were more calming than scary.

“How can you just go with whatever he says?” she asked Dan, who just chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

“Because he won’t take no for an answer...and he’s my best friend” Meg lifted her head, embracing Dan with a kiss, before laying back on his chest.

“You are so stupid” she giggled “That’s why I love you, you know”

“I know” he rubbed her back, yawning softly “I love you too”

It didn’t take them that long to fall asleep, the sounds around them lulling them into slumber without issue. Herbert smiles as he felt the two fall asleep, rubbing his stomach, something about it made him want to be like this forever, he didn’t want them to let go. And if he really had to, he would like to do it again. He didn’t know how he could convince Dan, but he’d probably find a way.

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

I hope y’all enjoyed that, thank you so much for reading, let me know what you think!

#my post #soft vore #safe vore #extreme cuddling #vore writing #g/t vore #male vore #non fatal vore #quentins writing

107 notes · View notes

collapsingintojupiter · 4 years

Note

“What do you mean you got the bottles mixed up, they were very clearly labeled POISON and NOT POISON!! Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck, okay, here’s what I want you to do!” and "Oh my god, you're bleeding!" with a bit of an angsty kidnapper situation rescue that goes wrong. Have fun with it, friend!

Ugh. I tried, and it feels shitty, but I’m too tired to do any more with this.

Here, have some angsty partner (not romantic) demus.

Characters: Remus, Deceit, Virgil, Logan

Relationships: Nothing romantic

Warnings: Car crash, blood tw, injuries tw, needles and syringes tw, somebody getting poisoned. If I need to add anything else let me know.

____

“We’re kidnapping that scrawny little twerp?” Remus asked in a voice loud enough to wake up half the county. Immediately a gloved hand was slapped over his mouth, and an angry voice hissed in his ear:

“You wanna yell that any louder? Make sure the police know exactly where we are? Maybe write them a note so they know where to find us too?” Dorian growled; he sounded like a rattlesnake, Remus noted. He liked rattlesnakes. He liked them a lot more than being yelled at every five minutes, that was for sure.

Dorian sighed, and Remus realized he’d been talking again.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Not really.” Dorian sighed again. “That’s Virgil Storm, he works for a guy Boss says is loaded. If we kidnap him, we’re gonna pull in a ton of money. Boss says the guy’s really fond of Virgil, so we should get the ransom easy.”

“Nice,” Remus said with a grin, and Dorian nodded.

“I like money,” he said.

“How strange.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows at him and he sighed again. Dorian did that a lot, he noticed. He wondered why.

“There’s the car; looks like Virgil just parked. You remember the plan?” Remus nodded. “Alright. Let’s move, quick!”

In an instant the two bolted from each other in the growing darkness, splitting up and circling around the opposite sides of Virgil’s rather smallish house. Remus jumped the fence easily, raced across the backyard, darted through the gate, and ran up the walkway to where their target had nearly reached his front door.

Tough luck buddy, Remus thought, and bolted forward, tackling Virgil to the ground. Before the kid could get a word out Dorian was there with a syringe full of something, which he jabbed into the kid’s arm as Remus put his hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming. Virgil’s eyes went wide and he bit Remus’ hand, who yelped as he yanked his hand away. Dorian slapped him, quickly pulling his jacket off and pressing it down on the kid’s mouth .

“You really are trying to alert the entire damn county, aren’t you?” he hissed, glancing down as Virgil went limp in their arms. “Quick, let’s go!” Remus shot him a glare, then threw Virgil over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes (Dorian was too skinny to be of much help) as the two sprinted down the street to where their van was parked. Remus hoisted the kid into the back, jumping inside after him just as Dorian started up the van and stepped on the gas.

“We got ‘em!” Remus cheered as they pulled away, which was followed by a yelp as the van lurched forward and he hit his head on the back of the van door. “OW!”

“Do you ever shut up?” Dorian sniped from the driver’s seat.

“You nearly killed me!”

“Shut up and get the kid tied up, he won’t be out for very long with that sedative.”

Remus muttered a few choice somethings under his breath, then started to do as he was told. Sitting the kid upright, trying to find some duct tape...

Then he stopped.

“Uh...D-Dorian…?” The other man sighed again.

“What is it, Remus?”

“Something’s wrong. The kid’s not breathing right.” The car lurched to the side as Dorian nearly crashed the car, turning back to look at Remus with wide eyes.

“The kid’s WHAT!?”

“I...I don’t know! He’s, he’s breathing funny—what do I do!?”

“Show me the bottle of stuff you put in that syringe, now!” Remus quickly reached into his coat pocket and went to the front, handing it over to Dorian. The other man’s eyes widened in horror as he took the syringe from him, and he threw it back at Remus before turning back to the road.

“Oh my God, we just poisoned him!”

“We what!? How’d that happen!?”

“You tell me, you’re the one who filled it up!” Remus blinked.

“I...I must’ve got the bottles mixed up,” he muttered, embarrassed and somewhat horrified. Look, they were bad guys, but they weren’t murderers!

“What do you mean you got the bottles mixed up, they were very clearly labeled POISON and NOT POISON! Do you know what the skull-and-crossbones symbol means!?” Dorian was full-on panicking now. “Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck, okay, here’s what I want you to do!”

“I’m listening!” Remus shouted back. “Fuck, he’s not looking good.”

“Just do what I say, and quickly! Look in that compartment in the back, there should be a purple bottle with an orange cap. That will counteract the poison, but you’ll need to hurry it up before full paralysis sets in and this kid’s heart can’t beat!”

“I’m hurrying!” Remus yelped, scrambling over to the compartment and ripping open the lid. He dove inside, tossing aside everything that wasn’t purple until he found the bottle Dorian had mentioned.

“Found it!” He screeched triumphantly.

“Bring it over!” Dorian ordered. “I need to make sure it’s the right one this time!” Remus did as he was asked without argument, scrambling back to the front to show Dorian the bottle. “Yeah that’s it,” he said when he saw it. “Okay, fill up a clean syringe with that to the fourth mark, and be careful.”

“You sure I should do it?”

“Move it!”

“Okay...” Remus grabbed the syringe and knelt down by the kid, hesitating before he injected the pinkish fluid into Virgil’s arm. He wasn’t looking good at all, and was struggling to breathe, but after a few moments he seemed to settle down again. Remus watched his chest rise smoothly up and down, then let out a sigh of relief.

“Well!?” Dorian yelled from the driver’s seat.

“He’s breathing alright!” Remus shouted. “I did it!”

Remus sat down, and realized his hands were shaking. Dorian let out a loud sigh of relief from the front seat. Boy, they were lucky…

Then Virgil’s eyes opened. Remus, however, didn’t notice that detail until the kid was suddenly towering over him, looking a quite shaken, rather high, and decidedly unhappy.

“Where am I!?” he slurred, then tackled Remus to the floor.

“What’s going on back there!?” Dorian shouted.

“He...he’s awake!” Remus yelped, trying to keep the kid’s hands off his neck as they rolled across the van floor and he hit his head on a spare box. “OW! That’s the second time tonight!”

“What the—I told you to tie him up, you lunatic!”

“That’s really helpful now Dee!”

“What’s going on!?”

“What do you want me to do, I’m driving!”

Remus put up quite a fight, but it wasn’t long before the much-stronger Virgil shoved him off and pounced on Dorian. The older man let out a screech, struggling to control the steering wheel, and the next thing Remus knew there was a lot of screaming, bent metal, and broken glass. He got hit by several somethings, presumably boxes, though he didn’t know for sure as his eyes were tightly closed. By the time the van had come to a stop and he opened again, Remus knew right away that something was missing.

Virgil had disappeared.

Remus himself somehow hadn’t been injured other than some bruises and a cut across his cheek, and he scrambled through the wreckage until he reached the driver’s seat. Dorian was there, looking both terrified and surprised to be alive, and bleeding from a large gash on the side of his face.

“Oh my god, you’re bleeding!”

Dorian looked at him.

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” he said dryly, as Remus unbuckled his seatbelt and carefully pulled him out. The front of the car was smashed and much of the side had been damaged, so Remus opened the back doors and helped Deceit out through there.

“We should probably clear out before that Virgil guy gets the police out here.”

“Hmm, what a thought,” Dorian said, as Remus half-carried, half-supported the smaller man as they limped off to the other side of the road, where Remus pulled out his phone (which luckily, hadn’t been smashed like Dorian’s) and called their Boss.

“He said he’d send Logan. He’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” Remus said after he’d hung up. Dorian nodded, leaning against him. He looked a lot weaker, and Remus realized suddenly that his gash was still bleeding.

“Oh...oh god,” he said quietly, then tore his shirt off, giving it to Dorian to apply to the side of his face. “Just, just hold it there, I’ll carry you,” he said. He easily picked the smaller man up, and started walking with Dorian cradled in his arms like a small child. Dee was too out of it to protest at that point, and religiously held Remus’ shirt to the side of his face.

Exactly fifteen minutes later Logan’s headlights appeared further down the road, and his car stopped next to them a few seconds later.

“Get in, quickly,” he said. “Remus, you know where to go. I’ll attend to Dorian.” Remus was too shaken to argue or even answer him, so he just nodded and handed Dorian to Logan. Logan carefully set him down in the backseat, and Remus slid into the driver’s seat without so much as a word.

“Looks like you two underestimated your target,” Logan muttered as Remus started to drive.

“Least he...didn’t die...” Dee answered, his voice quiet with a hissing quality to it.

“Die?” Logan repeated, glancing over at Remus with a stern expression. He quickly averted his gaze from the rearview mirror.

“I...accidentally poisoned him,” he admitted. “But at least we were able to reverse the damage before he died...”

“I see,” Logan said, his voice as unreadable as his expression. “Boss will not be impressed.”

“I am...aware...” Dorian hissed.

“Hey dude, relax and let Logan take care of you,” Remus called back at him. “You need to get better.”

“You will have another day to try again,” Logan added, as if he were trying to comfort Dorian as well. Admittedly, he wasn’t good at it, but it was the thought that counted anyways. “I will inform Boss of what happened, and we will be more prepared next time.”

“And the police didn’t catch us,” Remus stated. “The van can’t be traced back to us.”

“Yes...” Dorian agreed after a beat of silence. “We will have...another day.”

And indeed, they would.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #deceit sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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fanficslutforsmut · 5 years

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Walking Blind (Daryl Dixon TWD) Chapter Four

When one of the new douchebags came I left the watchtower, walking away, quicker than usual to see if Monet had stayed where I had left her, sitting up on that damn perch.

By the time I got there she wasn't even there, damn girl was just gone. I looked around to see if I could spot that mop of long blonde hair or that dumb dog she's got but I couldn't find them anywhere.

"You seen Monet walk round here?" I asked Carol as she mixed some food.

"I showed her to the showers a while ago, she hasn't been back since then." Carol scrunched her eyebrows together, realizing how long it had been. I walked away before she said anything else, walking towards the musky wet smell, the metal door was closed but I could hear the water still going. I hit the door a few times, calling her name before I heard Bear barking from the other side. I pushed the heavy door and walked in, Monet was on the floor face down, naked and wet. Her skin looked almost blue and was ice cold to the touch like she was sittin in a fucking freezer or somethin.

Bear cried and whined while licking her. I tore the flannel from my body, covering her with it and then her bottom with one of the white towels. She was bleeding from her head, a gnarly cut from the concrete. I shut the water off, picking her freezing body up and holding her close to me, nudging the door open with my foot and nearly running out the door with her.

"Hershal, Hershal need your help out here," I yelled, Bear on my heels barking. I pulled her body up and even closer when my grip turned to shit, breathing heavy while I turned to the side to get us in the door of Hershals cell.

Hershal shoved me outta the way, his fingers on her neck, then looking at the blood coming from her head.

"She'll need stitches for sure, what happened?" He asked, not even bothering to look away from her while he moved her blood-stained hair from the cut.

"I dunno, she probably fell or something, I found her like that in the showers." I breathed, trying to look over Maggie as she pushed a smaller towel to her head, wiping away the blood. Hershal started to thread a needle, and I watched as he tied her skin back up together.

"She's gonna need some clothes, come with me and we'll find her some, let my dad take care of this," Maggie told me, trying to pull me away as he checked for any other injuries.

"I ain't goin nowhere." I scoffed, puffing out my chest and staying guard. She rolled her eyes, knocking my shoulder as she went past me to get some clothes.

"You should keep her in a cell instead of that perch, keep her away from the stairs," Hershal told me, he was trying to cover her up more with a cheap blanket. I nodded but kept my eyes focused on her. Bear was at her feet, licking them and crying for her.

"It's gonna be a while until she wakes up, why don't you and Carol fix her up a cell." He offered, even though it sounded more like an order, but Hershal knew what was best so I nodded, taking one last look at Monet and walking out and towards the perch.

I knew I looked at the least pissed of by the way everyone seemed to slide right on through as if I wasn't even there. That's how they probably wished it was, that I weren't even here, I know what they think of me. Just a dumb hick who can hunt some meat.

I cleared everything out of the cell trying to make room for her, I put my stuff on the top bunk, I knew it was wrong to go through her shit, but I couldn't help it. Mostly it was horrid smelling dirty clothes, two cans of food, a half-empty water bottle, a small black book filled with pictures.

I sat on the bottom bunk, looking around for a minute, opening the front cover.

There was a couple in a hospital room holding a baby, a caption written next to it. "Monet Ophelia Charleston Born May 6th, 1993"

The next few pages were various stages of her life, all with a small one or two-sentence description. I couldn't see the resemblance until around her highschool years. A picture of her next to a few other girls wearing a red and black cheer uniform, jumping and holding a big trophy. "Mo, Rachel, Samantha, Teagan fall of 11' regionals, first place!!!"

Every milestone was documented, her first steps, her first tooth, learning to ride a bike, every first day of school, dances, prom, graduation all of them with the same guy standing beside her for years, some douche named Carter, whose hold on her always seemed so wrong, but the fun memories turned sour a few months after graduation when there were numerous hospital pictures. Mo with broken arms "Monet King county hospital, 3rd broken arm this year 2012", and legs "Monet 2012 'fell' again", big bruises covering her face "Monet

'ran into' the door 2013", cuts on her forearms and legs "Monet 'fell into' the bushes 2014". My breath caught on the second to last page.

It was a hospital band with numerous sized pictures of her face. Her eyes were bleeding and unbelievably swollen, it was sharp purple and black bruising around her eye, the bad one. Then there was recovery photos, some pre-surgery, some with her eyes bandaged, ones with her wearing glasses and using a cane. Carter was still in the background of all these pictures too, standing and watching her. "Monet 'mugging accident', broken orbital bone, almost completely blind. May God bring her peace and heal her. 2015,"

Bear soon came into the photos "Monet' seeing eye dog Bear! 2016", then there were family photos, holidays, and everything seemed to be normal besides a littering few hospital pictures in between.

I scoffed and through the book down when the last page came to sight, a wedding invitation for Monet and Carter due sometimes next year.

I shoveled her thing back into the book bag before taking the dirty clothes to Carol, asking for her help in washing them. We washed in silence and listened to the almost peacefulness of outside, other than those diseased ridden bitches gnawin at the gates.

We wrung them dry and hung up the clothes, I passed Carl and several others on the way back inside before Rick stopped me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me aside.

"The fuck you doin' man?" I seethed, tearing my arm out of his grasp and standing back.

"Don't you see, she's nothing but problems. Someone has to babysit her all the time, she can't even take a shower herself without almost dying. We can't keep her." He told me, looking away from me and towards the fences.

"The hell you tryna say then? Dump her somewhere, she'll die." I was mad, pissed even. Rick wants to go out and save some kid who was shootin at him, Glenn, and Hershal, keep him around but we can't keep Monet?

"We can give her supplies-"

"She won't survive out there and you know it." I shoved, puffing my chest and standing tall. "Thought you were all about not killin the living." I hissed, spitting at the ground by his feet, stocking away and heading into the prison. I passed everyone silently, heading to Hershal's cell.

"I've got her stitched up, she'll need painkillers when she wakes up, which I assume you have?" I nodded "She'll be out for a while, why don't you occupy yourself, I'll watch her." I nodded, turning around and walking towards Carol.

"She might need a few things, you and Glenn could run to the store and get her stuff." She suggested, looking towards the cell she was resting in.

"Like what?" I gnawed on my thumb, harshly chewing the skin off and preparing myself to make a mental note.

"I could come with instead, make sure she'll have all of her, womanly things." She smirked, I rolled my eyes, barely nodding and walking outside towards the cars. I was going to take my bike until Carol stopped me.

"We should take the car, in case we find food or other things for everyone." I nodded, we stood for a minute, filling the gas while I eyed up Rick who was also staring right back at me. Just as Carol and I were getting in the car Maggie and Glenn came out running.

"She's awake, I think, yeah she's awake," Maggie told me. I looked at Carol and the car. "We'll go, you and Carol check on her, we have to get little ass-kicker some formula anyway." Glenn finished up as they already started getting in the car. I half-ass nodded before jogging inside.

"I thought it would be a while," I asked Hershal, watching as he hovered over Monet. "I did too." He looked at me. He was dabbing a cloth at her forehead while she nodded around.

"Daryl?" She asked for me. My chest felt tight and hot and I pushed my way through to be up close to her.

I hummed, giving her a nudge with my hand, she grabbed me tightly, squeezing my fingers with her tiny soft hand. Hershal pushed a small metal chair behind me, I sat down waiting for her to say anything again but she didn't she just hummed and looked towards me.

She had a blue eye, dark almost grey color but the other was white and cloudy, you could barely see any blue at all. She had a small scar under her eye that was so thin I never noticed until now. She was so pale, not just now but even when I had first gotten her. There were clothes on the floor by the bed, I'm assuming Maggies.

"We'll leave you two to get decent," Carol told me, pulling Hershal out of the cell and leaving the curtain to fall in place, blocking us from the outside.

"Here are some clothes, I won't look or nothin," I told her, putting the pile on her lap. She groaned, squeezing my hand harder as she sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest to keep it from falling.

"I might need your help, I'm so light-headed right now." She sighed, closing her eyes and leaning forward.

I hummed and started grabbing back at the clothes, I tossed Maggie's shirt to the side and grabbing the flannel I had covered her with, off the ground. I grabbed a small grey bra from the pile.

"Here's your bra." I looked away while handing it to her. Monet slowly took it from my hands, and I look back when I heard it clasp together.

"Shirt" I whispered, fluffing out my shirt and helping her button it up once it was wrapped around her. She sat with her head back and her eyes still closed.

"You got a lot of marks on ya," I mumbled, she sighed. "Thought you wouldn't look." She didn't sound mad, or even sad, just tired. I kept my mouth shut, handing her a small rolled-up bundle of panties. I watched as she rolled them around in her hands for a second before realizing what the were. She didn't even stand, just pulled them up her legs and lifting her ass for a second as they slid up her hips. I handed her the last item, making sure the jeans were the right way, helping her slide her feet in and letting her use my shoulders to stand up, before sliding them up her waist.

She swam in my shirts and Maggie's pants were baggy and loose on her.

"You eat much?" I asked. All I could think about was how horrible her body looked when I found her in the bathroom.

She was so pale white that every bruise she had was so noticeable, even the ones in that god awful yellow color. Her legs black and blue, her sides and back purples and yellows. I could see her spine, her ribs, her hip bones. She looked like a skeleton. Fuck, the walkers outside ate more than she did.

She just hummed along to me, laying back down once I put some socks on her.

"Want me to get you anything? Need some food or something?" I asked, nudging her feet. She moved to grab my hand, now facing me.

"I already ate some of the meat you brought earlier." She told me, clearing her throat. I hummed, letting her hold my hand, grunting when she let it fall.

"What happened in there?"

"I fell looking for the soap, ironic to drop the soap in a prison huh." She laughed, it was lazy and breathy. I just hummed along to her. Bear whined and Monet patted her side, "Up Bear." and he listened, jumping up and laying next to her.

"Daryl, we might need you out here," Carol told me from the cell door, I looked to Monet. "It's ok, you can go," Monet told me, I couldn't even say how she knew I was waiting for her but she did.

"I'll be back, holler if you need me alright." I nudged her side before leaving, following Carol.

#daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #carl grimes #appocalypse #blind

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madamsixx · 4 years

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Beyond The Leather Chapter 24: Valentines In London Found Me In The Trash

Friday, February 14, 1986

Today was the big day. I slept in Jess's room last night because I needed someone to be with instead of being alone in my room. I received calls of encouragement and excitement from Tamara and my family. I wished that they could be here but everyone is busy with school and work. Also it's my moms birthday so I did get to wish her a happy birthday. I got out of the shower and got dressed ready to go. Jess made a few calls before we left so I told her I would be put in the hall way waiting for her. When I stepped out and walked to the elevator pushing the button. I heard Nikki's door open. Nikki came out of his room with his hair in a bun wearing no shirt and black ripped Jean's. He's up pretty early. We looked at each other for a bit until I turned away hearing that the elevator has come. I then heard Jess come out of the room and lock her door and walk down to the elevator. Nikki started walking down to the elevator too. I held the door open and they both got in. It was silent and very awkward. He leaned on the elevator wall and glared at me.

"S...so are the other girls downstairs already by the limo?" I asked Jess trying not to look at Nikki.

"They should be. If not the limo will leave without them." She chuckled.

"Are you a model?" Nikki spoke up still shooting daggers at me.

I tensed up when I heard Nikki speak. He was still angry about yesterday. I didn't even check to see if what I wrote was still on his door. Anyways he already knows I'm a model so I don't know what he's playing at.

"Yes she is. She's also an actress, a very talented one." Jess spoke proudly.

He nodded his head. "Oh really! I thought she was a hall cunt. It was written on her door, my mistake." He grins smugly.

I grinded my teeth together, I shot him a dirty look. He's just lucky Jess is in the elevator or I would have used my heel to hit the smug grin off his face. I know violence is never the answer but in Nikki's case I would make an exception. The doors opened and we all got out.

"Wow that guy is rude." Jess points out.

I looked back at Nikki who went to the front desk asking the clerk for something. I guess this was the end of what ever we had going on.

________

We arrived at the actual venue and it looked amazing. People weren't here yet because we were still setting up but I could tell there was going to be a lot of people coming in. This was definitely different than New York fashion week. It was smaller and less chaotic. New York was hustle and bustle and people were running around all over the place non stop. But here everyone was calm and relaxed.

"All right ladies head to the back and start getting your outfits and make up on." The director shouted.

We all went to the back and got our clothes, hair, and make up did.

"Hello ladies and gentlemen welcome to our February London Fashion week. London Fashion Week takes place twice a year in February and September, showcasing over 250 designers to a global audience of influential media and retailers. It is estimated that orders of over £100m are placed during LFW each season. We hope you all enjoy your self and after the show, we hope you will all attened the reception. Thank you.

The show began and the models started the individual cat walk. I was so excited to see the reaction on everyone's face as we walked. By the end of the show all the models came out together and we wore the same outfits. The show was a hit everything went as planned and I was very happy about it. After the show we attended the reception. I took a lot of pictures with the designers and staff. And all us models took a group picture together. _____ Back at the hotel 12:33 am

The girls all came over to my room and we celebrated the first day of fashion week.

"One day down 4 more days to go woo!" Rachel shouted jumping on my bed.

Jade and a couple of the other girls were drinking wine. But not too much to get themselves drunk.

"Come on ladies we need to toast." Hilary says while pouring wine in the glasses. "Rach, Iman I know you two dont drink but for tonight we got to celebrate." She hands us a glass.

We both look at each other and start giggling. I mean I already got drunk before but it wasn't my fault. I guess I could have a tiny sip.

"Alright Iman how about we link arms and do this together." Rachel laughed coming to me.

"Ok but not too much." I giggled.

We both linked arms and sipped a bit of the wine. All the girls started cheering. We ended the night by taking several pictures with each other, telling funny stories, and exchanging phone numbers with each other. It was a night I would never forget.

2:30 am

I heard banging on my door. At first I thought it was just a dream when I heard it the first few times but now I realized it was really someone banging. I got out of my bed, turned on my bedroom light, and walked to the living room. The banging continued, so I went to the door and looked through the peek hole and noticed a familiar face that I have seen before. The man looked like he was holding someone up. I was a bit scared so I didn't want to open the door.

"W....who are you? I'm going to call the police if you don't get away from my door." I whispered shouted.

"Iman it's Andy...Andy Mccoy. I have Nikki with me he's in pretty bad shape. Please open the door love." He shouted.

I opened the door and in tumbled Nikki and Andy both falling to the floor.

"I...Iman help please." Nikki whimpered.

"Oh my God Andy what happened?" I asked getting down to help Andy pick up Nikki.

"Hang on love let's get him into your room." We both picked Nikki up. God Nikki is very heavy I felt like my back was about to break. We carried Nikki into my room and as we were getting him to the bed he threw up on my carpet.

"Here lay him down on my bed." I directed Andy while moving my blanket.

Nikki is layed on my bed whimpering and moaning in pain.

"What happened Andy?" I asked with worry.

"Motley were playing the first of two concerts at London's Hammersmith Odeon. And me and the boys in my band Hanoi Rocks came to watch the performance, and so did Brian Connolly from the Sweet."

As Andy is talking, Nikki gets up and runs to the washroom and starts puking in the toilet. We both run after him, and I pull Nikkis hair back to keep it from getting in his face.

"After the show, Nikki and I grab a taxi in search of scoring some hero... um drugs." Andy stutterers and scratches his head.

He's obviously not being truthful.

"We ended up finding a dealer on the street that shoots Nikki up inside a house, because he was already feeling too wasted to inject."

"Wait what? What do you mean shooting up and injecting?" I snap and grab Andy by his collar shaking him.

"Nikki passed out and I tried to wake him up by putting ice in his pants." Andy panics.

"I...Iman my body hurts fuck." Nikki whimpers falling on the washroom ground.

I turn around letting Andy go and try to pick Nikki up. "Help me put him on my bed again Andy!" I yell.

We pick Nikki up and bring him back to my bed. Nikki smells like a dumpster, mixed with alcohol, sweat, and barf. His clothes had barf on it so I start ripping it off. That's when I notice he had huge bruises all over his chest and shoulders. My eyes went wide and I looked at Andy.

"What the hell happened to him Andy? Who did this?" I was furious at this point.

"The dealer tried to revive him by hitting him all over with a baseball bat." Andy mumbled.

I wanted Andy to stop talking cause at this point he was only fueling my anger.

"When that didn't work, the dealer carried him outside on his shoulder to throw him into a trash dumpster. But Nikki vomited on his shoes and woke up." Andy mumbled again.

I looked at Andy and saw red. I cant even remember my fist connecting with Andy's jaw. All I saw Andy do, was fall back into my dresser and hit his head on it. I winced at the feeling of my knuckles in pain after I punched him.

"Iman I'm sorry." He pleaded as I started punching him while he was on the ground with my other hand.

"Get out! Now!" I shouted in anger. He got up and ran out the door.

"Iman it hurts, oh God my body hurts." Nikki whimpered.

"Ok hang on Nikki." I say walking to him.

I started stripping off his clothes until he was fully naked. He whimpered and groaned in pain as I touched the bruises on his body. How could someone do that to him. I put my arm underneath the back of his neck and my other arm behind his back and pulled him up to me in sitting position.

"I...Iman ffffuck!" He groaned in pain.

"Nikki I need to get you in the shower ok. Please try and stand up." I pleaded.

"O..ok." He breathed out.

He wrapped his arm around my neck and I wrapped my arm around his back. I lifted him up and we walked slowly to the washroom. I put the toilet seat down, flushed it while I was at it, and sat him down on the toilet seat while I turned on the shower. I could have easily just let Nikki sleep on my bed but he really stunk and I had to make sure that he had no open cuts on his skin. And if he did, they would need to be cleaned.

"Ok Nik I need to get you in the shower ok." I wrapped my arms around him and lifted him up.

"Iman my fucking chest fuck." Nikki groaned.

"I'm sorry Nik." I calmly mumble.

I get him into the shower and I grab my sponge and start to scrub him down. I turn off the water and grab my towel and wrap it around him and get him out of the shower. We walk back into my bedroom and I sit him down on the bed. I grab some of my Aloe lotion and start to lotion his skin with it. Especially where he has the bruises to make sure they dont get worse. As I'm lotioning his skin I notice on his arm that his cephalic vein had been punctured with what looked like needle marks. There was dry scabbing but also a fresh needle mark. I rubbed that part with a lot of Aloe. I walked back to the washroom to grab listerine. I grab Nikkis mouth and pour the listerine into his mouth. His breath really smelt like barf.

"Hang on Nik let me get the garbage so you can spit into it." I say running to grab the garbage. When I get back he has already spit out the listerine on my carpet. I sigh and put the garbage down.

"Ok Nik let's get you into bed."

I help shuffle him properly on to my bed so he can lay down. I move off the bed and take off my t-shirt that's wet from showering Nikki. I walk to the washroom and grab more towels. I spread one down where he spit out the listerine then spread one where he barfed. I walk over and pick up his clothes, I start feeling around his pockets for his room key. I finally find them and turn to grab my robe. I put it on and leave my room to head to his room. When I get to his room I open the door and his room looks like a war zone. Clothes were every where, dirty dishes were on the side of the wall, and the stench was overwhelming. I dropped Nikki's dirty clothes and walked to his suitcase pulling out clean clothes. I grabbed his clean clothes then left his room making sure to lock the door behind me. I enter back into my room locking my door and walking into my bed room.

"Iman...please.... I need you." Nikki let out a muffled moan.

I climbed on to the bed and cuddled with him. "I'm here Nikki." I whispered and kissed his chest where he had the bruise.

He was shivering and sweating so I lifted the blanket so it would be covering him and I wrapped my arm tightly around him.

"Please dont leave me." He groaned in pain.

"I won't." I whispered and kissed his chest again.

He rolled us over so that I would be laying on my back and he would be on top of me. He rested his head on my chest and wrapped his arms tightly around my back. I then wrapped my arms securely around him like he was a child that I had to protect from the monsters out in the world.

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jcmcisvu · 5 years

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(𝐧.) 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭. part one.

the girl with the iridescent parasol is five years old when she’s found dead in paradise river, golden curls torn out in clumps and chopped to her shoulder, and glossy wings clipped off at the base.

the girl with the iridescent parasol is five years old when the sky cries for her above all else, drowning maninora forest in it’s crystalline tears.

the girl with the iridescent parasol is five years old when the spirits of the forest find her and deem her death as unjust and unvirtuous.

the girl with the iridescent parasol is five years old when she is restored, repaired, replenished, and given a new chance at life.

the girl with the iridescent parasol is five years old when she gives herself a name and a place in the world.

he swallows hard, pressing his eyes closed tightly and pulling the blankets up and over his head. he cups his hands over his ears, shakes his head, and shoves his face into his pillow.

❝ there’s nothing there ... nothing there ... ghosts aren’t real ... they aren’t real ... ❞

he keeps his eyes closed, though, keeps his head turned away. he doesn’t want to risk looking, just in case something is there, just in case something is waiting for him at the foot of his bed.

❝ you’re not allowed to leave the confines of your chamber, do you understand ?? never are you allowed to leave. ❞

no. he doesn’t understand. he never had and he probably never will, but he doesn’t question it. he can only assume that it’s because of what is happening outside of his chamber that he isn’t allowed to leave, for he hears the screams and cries, feels the earthquakes and rolling thunder --- his papa must be trying to protect him from the outside.

never, in a million years, did he think that it’s because of him, because of something as simple as his touch, because his papa was trying to protect everyone else.

pathetic sobs fall from split, bloody lips as he drags himself across the marble floor in some desperate attempt to get away. it’s harder than it should be, but every ounce of strength he had has been forcefully ripped out of him and magic, even in good condition, has never been his forte.

❝ oh, come on !! stop being such a baby and get up !! ❞

❝ i -- i ... can’t --- ❞

all he can do is cry against the beautifully embellished, but now bloodstained floor. his head shakes slowly, fingers grasping at nothing but a futile attempt to escape.

❝ oh, my gods !! this is your own fucking fault, you whiny brat !! ❞

the slightly older boy grasps onto a fistful of his brother’s shirt and yanks him up and off the floor.

❝ i said get the fuck up --- ❞

he’s cut off by an earsplitting scream finally forcing its way passed the smaller boy’s lips, and he just barely manages to gasp out a broken, ❝ c-can’t ... ❞ before he goes limp in his hold.

odd eyes widen in a fit of shock, his hand unfurls from its previous place grasping at his brother’s shirt, and he winces as the limp body hits the marble floor with a thud.

❝ i -- get up ... get up !! i didn’t --- i didn’t mean to !! i didn’t mean to !! get up !! she’s going to hate me !! get up !! get up !! ❞

a knock on the wooden fence catches the attention of the young boy and he quickly sprints across the yard to poke his head over the fence.

❝ oh, hi !! ❞

❝ i have a ... uh, extra large fan, battery powered engine, and three shipments of steel pipes and cables to be delivered to this address ?? does that sound ... right ?? ❞

the confusion in the man’s voice is evident, and all the boy does is smile brightly.

❝ yep !! that sounds exactly right !! you can just bring it through the gate !! ❞

❝ ... hey, kid, aren’t you a little young to be doing all this ?? ❞

a soft laugh spills into the warm, summer air. ❝ yes !! yes, i am !! ❞

he’s sixteen years old and he is the most important thing his world has ever known.

that’s what he’s told as the silver needle is pressed into his neck, as his veins fill with cold, and as the liquid numbness and induced paralysis set in. it’s what he’s told as he’s lifted from his bed and carried unconsentingly from his chamber, through the crystalline hallways, into the palace’s brightest, most beautifully iridescent room.

❝ the security of our world hinges on how perfect you are. ❞

that’s what he’s told as unfamiliar hands grab him, pet him, touch him all over. as he’s forcefully kept in a state of complete consciousness, and yet as he has no idea what is truly being done to him.

it’s what he’s told as he’s made out to be the epitome of perfect to benefit everyone, everyone, no matter what it does to him.

each and every hair is perfectly in place. lips are the perfect shade of honeysuckle pink. porcelain cheeks hold the perfect rosiness. mismatched eyes are so beautifully glossed over. mind is so delightfully blank.

he is beautifully dressed, and delightfully drugged, and elegantly stripped of all senses.

he is lifted and contorted and put on display like the utterly captivating, utterly perfect porcelain doll that he is forever made out to be.

pathetic cries fall from bloody lips as he stares up at the beautiful mix of light and dark that his father holds in his hand. he twirls it around, holds it up, lets it shine like it’s some humane jewel, there to be admired.

a feeble hand slowly lifts from where it had been previously pawing at the floor, as if reaching out for the mix, as if trying to draw it to him, trying to draw it back to him.

a foot comes down, crushing his hand against the floor as a sinister laugh spills into the harsh, cold air.

❝ it’s such a pity that such magic has been going to complete and total waste for so many years. i know it’s been used in ... small incriminates, but ... this is far more efficient. ❞

❝ pl -- please... please, that --- i-i'll --- ❞

a loud sob escapes his lips, his eyes press tightly shut, his head lolls limply against the floor as he tries so desperately to tear his attention away from the scene. all too abruptly, though, a hand grasps at his jaw, cruel fingertips pressing purple bruises into his skin, and his eyes are forced open, forced to watch, to stare so intently as his own magic, as such an important piece of him, is fed so eagerly, so maliciously into his cruel, sinister reflection.

he wants to cry, wants to plead for it back, for them to just give him his pieces back. he feels empty, broken, completely incomplete. not a word, not a sound leaves his lips, though. silent tears simply fall down his cheeks, mixing with the blood that’s pooled beneath his head.

it’s a silent eight months that follow.

a loud, pained screech sounds throughout the manor, awakening everyone within as images flash across his mind at a speed faster than light. he stumbles from his bed, one hand pressing at his eyes as the other grasps at his nightstand in some desperate attempt to hold himself steady.

he sounds like he’s being murdered and soon there’s familiar hands on him, all trying to gently guide him back to bed, to make sure he’s alright. he’s stiff, though, clutching the nightstand like it’s his lifeline and pressing his eyes closed so tightly they seem glued shut.

when he finally settles down, when the strange images slow and come to a stop, he’s breathing heavily and there’s a dull ache in his head. the feeling isn’t foreign, but it’s also not entirely familiar.

❝ ... it was only a night terror. go back to bed. i -- i’ll tell you all about it in the morning if i must. ❞

❝ in the coming years ... this ceremony will begin fall upon your shoulders, dearest. it may seem like an abundance to take on --- our kingdom depends on it, after all --- but i already trust that you hold shall magnificent festivals in the years when it is finally your time. ❞

the shrill screams and earsplitting shrieks, the loud cries and harsh sobs, the terror-filled ambiance fills her ears as her pastel pink eyes meet her father’s own silver ones. she searches such eyes for love, for adoration, for anything at all, but all she finds is a sinister pride hiding away in his crystalline irises. she forces a smile to come to her rose petal pink lips.

❝ ... i promise i won’t let you down, daddy. ❞

she stands under the old oak tree, hand gently placed on its trunk as she glances around, evidently waiting for someone. it’s been hours since she’d arrived. her long, pure white dress is getting drenched, soiled in the rain. her curls are falling quickly and her mascara is sure to be running down her cheeks. yet she continues to wait, perfectly manicured hands gently clutching the bag of jewels she’d managed to steal from her mother’s jewelry box.

the tall clocktower in town square chimes three times, signalling that it’s three in the morning, and he still hasn’t shown. she’s starting to lose hope, and a soft sigh leaves her lips as she drags her hand down the rough trunk of the old tree and turns to leave.

and her ice blue eyes meet a dark silhouette of a man. her heart beats fast and loud, her hands clutch the velvet bag in a vice grip, a smile comes to her cherry red lips, and ---

a loud shriek is the final noise she makes. crimson blood slips with ease from her neck and spills through the grass. she awakes in an unfamiliar world with her jewels missing, but with a new cold and lonely feeling hanging over her.

she walks through the front door with her head hung low, ribbons in her hair torn and tattered, and skin covered in scratches and bruises. she drags her backpack behind her on the floor as she makes a beeline for her bedroom.

❝ baby sis ?? is that you ?? i was waiting ‘til you got home to film my new --- oh, my god, what happened to you ?? ❞

she bats worried hands away as they reach out to touch her, to see if she’s okay.

❝ i’m fine. just leave it alone, okay ?? and please, just ... don’t tell mom and dad. ❞

❝ don’t tell mom and dad ?? you’re --- you’re a wreck, of course i’m gonna tell mom and dad !! if i don’t, you’ll probably get yourself killed next time you --- ❞

❝ maybe that’s what i’m trying to do !! ❞ it’s loud and abrupt, and she hadn’t intended to say it. ❝ ... maybe --- maybe if i get hurt, if ... if he somehow hears that --- that something happened --- maybe he’ll finally just come home !! ❞

his face falls and his heart drops to his stomach. he steps toward his sister, a soft, ❝ baby sis ... that --- that’s not the way to get him to come home ... ❞ spilling into the air.

❝ than how ?! ❞ she screams as loud as her lungs will allow. ❝ than --- than how ... ❞

he pulls her into a hug, her face pressed against his chest as broken sobs spill from her lips. he’s never seen her so upset, didn’t know that she’d been so affected by something that had happened years ago. perhaps he’d been too focused on himself all this time, on trying to forget it all, on trying to pretend it had never happened.

❝ i ... i don’t know ... ❞ he admits, ❝ i don’t know. ❞

the whisperings are louder than intended as she passes them by, but what they whisper of is no secret at all. in fact, it’s something she’s always known, something she’s been aware of all along.

❝ her magic is nowhere near as powerful as her sisters’ ... i mean, does she even practise her magic ?? ❞

she doesn’t.

❝ i don’t think so. and she’s not very social ... i guess it’s a good thing she’s not the heir. ❞

she’s not.

❝ yeah. or even just an ambassador. i’m not sure that would be good for anyone involved. ❞

it wouldn’t.

she knows all this. she knows that she’s the middle child. she knows that she got the short end of the stick in regards to just about everything. she knows that she’s not exactly good enough and probably never will be, but she’s long since accepted it.

she holds the necklace up to the light, head tilting slightly to one side as it glimmers in the bright lights of her dressing room. she knows her accessories backwards and forwards, but this piece ... this necklace is far too unfamiliar. she doesn’t recall purchasing it, she’s not sure she’s ever even seen it before, and yet ... it feels so right as she clasps it around her neck; it feels like it belongs with her.

he’s frozen in place as he stares into the room, unable to even scream in a fit of terror as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. the screams of his parents fill his ears, but they dull in comparison to the sound of flesh tearing and fire blazing.

he manages to look away from the scene, his own eyes accidentally meeting a familiar pair of golden and red ones.

❝ find your sister and run. ❞

the words aren’t uttered aloud, just mouthed to him from equally familiar bloodstained lips, but he makes them out all the same. yet he doesn’t run, doesn’t move an inch as he’s too utterly mortified to so much as even think properly.

❝ i said run !! ❞

the door slams in front of him and, for the first time in that moment, he’s forced into a state of acceptance. a heavy breath escapes his lips, his heart pounds in his chest; he takes off, abandoning his childhood home and the people who raised him in it, his sole focus on doing exactly as he was told before it’s far too late.

the typically soft and smooth fabric feels rough against her skin and she winces at its touch, but that doesn’t stop her from twisting it around herself, from twirling herself into a cocoon, a prison of red fabric.

when she was young, she’d loved the feel of it against her skin, she’d loved practising and competing, loved simply doing it for fun. it was silly of her to think that it would always be fun, though, that she would always enjoy it without so much as a care in the world.

perhaps that was why she’d run away, why she’d disappeared without so much as a word, abandoned the only home she’d ever known, stolen a daughter, a sister from her own family like a thief in the night. perhaps she was trying to find a love for her art again, trying to find the love that had been stripped away from her by the very people who were supposed to do nothing but love and support her.

it doesn’t matter now, she tells herself as the tent to the bigtop opens for general admission, right now, only tonight’s performance matters.

the earth shakes with cosmic proportions, the ground cracking open, splitting apart, and crumbling beneath such epic power. dark, pitch black clouds form like puffs of sinister smoke in the ash grey sky, furling tragically and rolling with ease across it like some wicked blanket from hell. bloody tears fall from such clouds, hitting against the ground like sharp pins, drowning the earth in the messy, red liquid.

the lightning flashes, the thunder crashes, a wildfire blazes in the distance, terrorising and burning down small populations and civilizations in their entirety.

❝ ... the be all, end all ... ❞

divine screams spill into the air.

❝ ... the perfect weapon ... ❞

bloody fingers claw at the marble floor.

❝ ... the end of times ... ❞

a loud snap is heard as an invisible weight comes down against his spine, as invisible claws tear his chest open, as the dam opens and blood fills his lungs, floods his throat, and spills, like velvet ribbon, from plush lips.

❝ n-noire !! hes -- ‘estia !! dea -- ros --- ❞ he tries to scream, calling out for help for the first time in his life, between gushes of blood.

❝ ... all you were intended to be ... and all i have is this ... pathetic. ❞

a scream louder than any crash of thunder, sharper than any bolt of lightning, more sinister than any dark cloud, more searing than any wildfire, more epic than any earthquake imaginable sounds throughout earth and the lands above and below as another harsh snap sounds, as an endless river of red spills from his lips and pools beneath his head, and as golden and red eyes gloss over and stare blankly into an empty nothingness.

she stares at her phone, an amused smile coming to her lips as she admires her own image on the screen. she doesn’t bother reading the words that accompany it. she already knows what they say. they just flash across her mind effortlessly at the human of it all.

world-class con artist. grand heist. shot and killed. vatician museum.

a soft laugh bubbles from her lips as she shakes her head, tucks her phone into the pocket of her jeans, and leaps off of the roof of the building. she disappears into the night.

she’s far too used to the murmured arguments that fall through the thin walls of her bedroom at night when they think she’s not listening. she’s far too used to the topic of conversation being herself. she’s far to used to having to pretend that she didn’t hear them the next day when they ask how she slept the night before.

❝ nothing she does ... ever ends in anything good. ❞

❝ i know, i ... we were doing some healing earlier and she --- it was my mistake of letting her even try ... ❞

❝ we have to do something about her before she --- before she does too much bad. ❞

❝ ... she’s only sixteen. she has ... a few more years. we’ll give her a few more years. ❞

❝ two more years. when she’s eighteen. ❞

❝ when she’s eighteen. ❞

she doesn’t know what they mean, doesn’t know what her age has to do with anything, but ... she tries to ignore it. she trusts her parents, trusts the people around her. so, she simply turns over, pulls her pillow over her head, and forces herself to sleep.

skilled feet glide across the glossy, wooden floor that has somehow become her god. toes are perfectly pointed, arms are excellently bent. tangled locks of brown hair scatter across her face as she twirls, twirls, twirls.

she takes a leap, momentarily falls to the floor, keeps twirling.

bloody footprints scatter beautifully across the floor.

stop, stop, stop. but she can’t. she will keep twirling. she must keep twirling.

a ballerina in a music box, twirling endlessly upon command.

a fit of sobs escapes from her lips and spills into the air as she’s dragged by her hair across the cement. she kicks her feet and thrashes her head back and forth, screaming at the very top of her lungs for help as she tries so, so desperately to get away.

❝ no !! no, please !! please !! just let me go !! just let me go !! please !! please just let me go !! ❞

❝ just shut the fuck up, brat !! it’ll be over the sooner you shut up !! ❞

❝ no !! just let me go !! let me go !! ❞

a burst of light escapes her. his grip on her hair loosens and he falls to the ground.

when she opens her eyes again, all she sees is stars.

❝ come on !! come on !! let’s go play, we --- we have to go play !! ❞

his words appear to fall on deaf ears, and he stares up at his only companion, his only friend before he tries again.

❝ we haven’t played in forever !! can we please go play now ?? ❞

he’s met with an annoyed sigh and an irritated. ❝ you’re not real. fuck off and go play by yourself. ❞

❝ will you marry me ?? ❞

the question falls from her glossy lips with such hope laced with each word. her eyes sparkle as if they had stolen a million stars from the sky.

❝ what ?? ❞

this question comes out fast, hard and cold.

❝ will you --- ❞

❝ no, i heard you the first time. are you fucking insane ?? we just met, like, two days ago. you were a good fuck and all, but ... seriously, the fuck ?? ❞

this time, her eyes sparkle with tears, glossy lip quivering as she tries not to cry.

you’re worthless if you’re not married. you’re life is meaningless if you never marry. marriage is the only way. it’s the only way.

❝ but ... but you have to marry me. you --- you have to !! you have to !! ❞

❝ i can put his spirit in the lantern. as long as the flame stays lit, he will live on inside. take on the task of lantern bearer… or watch your brother perish. come here. ❞

❝ there has to be another way ... there has to be some other way. ❞

❝ no. there is only me, there is only my way, there is only the forest, and there is only surrender. ❞

the mirror must be warped, she tells herself. she stares into the reflective glass and she swears she sees her naturally green eyes flicker red, then black, before settling back to green. the mirror must be warped.

something touches her shoulder and she spins around to face it, but her eyes fall upon nothing more than the lonely emptiness of her bedroom.

❝ memento mori, secundarum, memento mori. ❞

the words are far too familiar. she screams as she stares down at her hands, now covered in what she can tell is her own blood.

❝ not again, not again !! please, please, not again !! ❞

they all think she’s going crazy, but she knows what she sees.

❝ i’m sorry ... but it has to be done. for the sake of all of these people. you understand. ❞

no. they don’t, they never do, but they’re not meant to. not really.

❝ your sacrifice is keeping an entire population alive and well. you are doing good. ❞

she lies through her teeth, she knows better, and yet she can’t stop. she knows what will happen if she does.

❝ it’ll all be over soon. just ... close your eyes and try to be very still. ❞

you’re too much of a burden. too much of a burden.

she messily shoves as many of her clothes as she can fit into her backpack, followed by a few necessities --- a toothbrush, a hairbrush, her phone.

you have to do this for her. you have to.

she sniffles, brings her hair around to tie it into a loose ponytail, and slings her backpack over her shoulder.

it’ll be better this way. she won’t be so sad all the time.

she closes her eyes and, with a deep breath, leaps from the window, running as fast as her short legs will carry her across the sidewalk and down the street.

shaky hands hold the gold tray carefully, balancing the delicate china tea set as she walks slowly down the golden hallway. she’s not typically so nervous, far too accustomed to the life that she was condemned to from the time she was born to fear anything within the palace any longer. she supposes that’s it’s not truly anything within the palace that she fears, though. she supposes that it’s the words that had fallen into her ears upon her visit with her parents that scar her.

she doesn’t really love you. she never will. you’re not even meant to pay any attention to her. she doesn’t hold your soul. he does. him. stop being so silly all the time. forget about her.

a soft sigh escapes her lips as she reaches the door to her chamber. she takes a deep breath, puts on a smile, and gently knocks, knocks, knocks away at the door.

there’s blood everywhere --- on the bed, on the floor, all over her skin. every breath she takes she feels like her lungs are on fire, and she’s surprised that they’re not when every couple minutes she leans over the side of her bed and coughs and retches endlessly as thick, red liquid pours from her lips.

everyone is rushing around, yelling at each other. she thinks they’re trying to help, trying to think of some way to help her, but --- she doesn’t want them to worry. she didn’t mean to cause them so much stress and pain. this had only happened because she’d wanted to help. she’d wanted to help and she didn’t even think of the dangers that she knew came with outside world as of late.

a soft sob leaves her lips as she tries to speak, tries to tell everyone that it’s okay, that she’s okay, and that she’s sorry.

she’s silenced before she can say anything, though, as an all too familiar hand gently touches her shoulder and an equally familiar voice murmurs something to her, something that she can’t quite make out, before her hair is ruffled and the familiar presence disappears.

the last thing she remembers is being told to stay awake.

brown eyes stare at the golden flames that dance across the skin of the hand that’s outstretched in front of him.

❝ oh, come on !! it won’t hurt !! it’s just to seal the deal !! for official purposes !! ❞

❝ ... you swear this will bring her back ?? ❞

❝ you have my word !! i would never tell a lie from the tip of a golden tongue !! ❞

whatever that’s supposed to mean. still, he reaches out, allowing his own hand to meet with the flame-covered hand of his companion.

❝ thank you for shopping with zazzy universal !! no refunds, exchanges, or returns !! i’ll be back in a year to drag you to the pit !! ❞

a cloud of golden smoke is all that remains, and that’s when such words finally set in.

he’s eighteen years old and he has one year left to live.

❝ i will get to the bottom of this ... i promise. ❞

bruised and bloody hands hit against the cold floor. the room is silent saved for the pit, pit, pit as stray teardrops hit the cement.

why wouldn’t they listen ?? why wouldn’t anyone just listen to him ?? he’s not just some crazy kid. he knows what he’s talking about. if they had all just listened, maybe they would have been able to stop it. maybe none of this would be happening right now.

his woodland companion cowers in a small fit of fear beneath a nearby table.

❝ i swear ... no matter what comes of me, anybody who stands or has took in my path ... ❞

they are going to pay.

ACTION: POWER >MODE >>ON

SUBJECT: IDENTIFY >INHUMAN >>ALIEN >>>ARGENTI

TASK >ERROR >>ERROR >>>DESTROY >>>>ERROR

TASK CANNOT BE COMPLETED

she runs. she shoots. she slices. she kills.

the adrenaline that rushes through her on the battlefield is nothing in comparison to the absolute adoration that floods her upon laying her eyes on the one that she loves.

so long that you are alive, i will fight to keep you safe. i won’t let anything touch you. i won’t ever let harm come your way.

❝ star light, star bright ... first star i see tonight ... i wish i may, i wish i might ... have this wish i wish tonight ... ❞

a soft gasp escapes glossy lips, sparkling with stardust as she rushes to her balcony, fingertips reaching out to gently run over her crystal ball. shining, silver eyes peer into the crystalline glass, black locks falling over her face as her head tilts to one side.

a face appears in the glass, a smile comes to her lips.

❝ ... i wish to be put out of my suffering ... i wish to die in my sleep tonight ... ❞

silver eyes widen in shock and a horrified scream falls from her sparkly lips and into the air. she clutches the moon-shaped pendant that hangs from her neck, head shaking in a fit of absolute panic as she steps back from her crystal ball.

you’re the princess. you have a duty. you must grant every wish that comes to you. the words of her parents come to her, and a soft sob leaves her lips as she sinks to the floor, stardust falling from pale skin and sparkly tears spilling down rosy cheeks.

❝ whoa !! this shit is funny looking !! ❞

❝ oh, yeah !! he’s kind of ugly ... lets take him to the science lab and cut him open !! ❞

❝ yeah !! see if we can figure out what he --- shit !! ❞

quick hands grab the small creature from the desk of her classmates and hold it safely in her grasp.

❝ you so much as lay a hand on him and i’ll cut you open !! ❞

the threat is probably too loud for a classroom setting, but in that moment, she doesn’t care. she simply turns away from her classmates and holds the creature up to her face, murmuring a soft, ❝ hey, little guy ... i won’t let them get you, okay ?? you’re safe with me. i’ll take you home later and feed you and everything ... i won’t let anyone hurt you again. i promise. ❞

❝ the ringing of the bell commands you ... kill him. ❞

❝ yes, master. ❞

a smile comes with ease to her bubblegum pink lips as beautiful pink shimmers and sparkles fill the tent, causing absolute but such ethereal distortion in the eyes of all who watch. it takes no effort at this point. it’s second nature to her, giving such entranced people such magnificent illusions.

her routine comes to an end. the audience’s applause only makes her feel stronger. she blows a kiss out to them, leaving a sparkly, bubblegum kiss mark on everyone’s cheek before she smirks and turns away, disappearing in a cloud of pink smoke.

she’s met offstage with a familiar hand grasping her shoulder and a comfortable face smiling down at her. ❝ that’s my star. ❞

he watches from a distance, always from a distance. it’s all he can do in the state that he’s in. he’s tried interacting with them before, tried speaking to them once or twice, but ... they never seem to hear him, or if they do, they’ve chosen to ignore him, which he would understand entirely, considering all things.

so, he continues to watch, occasionally blocking a window from being broken or catching a vase that’s been knocked over before it breaks. he’ll sometimes find missing objects or finish odd chores for them. but, mostly, he watches.

he watches and wishes to, someday, be a part of their family, too.

❝ you’re not one of us. you’re ... human. what are you doing all the way out here ?? these woods aren’t a place for humans like you. they aren’t kind to humans like you. ❞

❝ i know. i’ve ... i’ve learned that, but --- i’m trying to find my brother. i’m trying to get us home. ❞

❝ well, you’re a long way from home now, kid. probably even more lost than you started. ❞

❝ ... yeah, actually, but i --- i can’t go home until i have him with me, so ... i just have to keep wandering. ❞

❝ wandering, huh ?? what do you say, wanderer ?? how do you even know that this brother of yours is even alive anymore ?? what with the argenti out there and all --- ❞

❝ he’s alive. i know he is. ❞

❝ but how do you --- ❞

❝ he has to be. ❞

she sniffles, wiping at her eyes with the too long sleeves of her sweater as the deerfox snuggles up against her side. it was silly of her to think she was big enough to stop something so much bigger than she was, so much stronger, so much more powerful.

❝ i should have listened to you, mum. all i did was fail. i should have known. ❞

❝ you tried, though, sweetheart. that’s far more than most people would have done. ❞

another sniffle. ❝ i -- i just didn’t want to have to leave home, that’s all ... ❞

❝ i know, but ... look at it this way: some day your home may be somewhere else, but that doesn’t mean you have to leave your other homes behind. ❞

a hand touches her shoulder, her small woodland companion slowly climbs onto her lap. she looks up and is met with a warm, perfectly familiar smile.

❝ the wilderness will always be a part of who you are. ❞

she twirls through the field of wildflowers and thorny weeds, soft strings of giggles spilling from her glossy pink lips as vibrant butterflies and delicate ladybugs land in her hair, decorating her so elegantly. she feels free for the first time in her entire life.

for once, there aren’t guards watching over her shoulder or spying on her from within the tall branches of the trees. for once in her life, she doesn’t feel like she’s being watched; she feels like she finally has a foreign moment of privacy.

❝ princess !! ❞

she sighs. she spoke too soon.

❝ you’re not allowed beyond the garden !! ❞

❝ ... right !! silly me. i’m coming !! ❞

#◤♛◢ — jcmcisvu. ✧ 「 paras. 」#this is BAD n only half of my muses but u know WHAT #.................. i jus' wanna do repliesKJHDKS #also ! some people ? share one ?#n some people hav two ! or like ... one in a half moreso ?#yeahkshdkjs

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danalorrainestudies · 5 years

Text

27.11.18

It’s been 15 days. I can’t believe everything that’s happened in just two weeks, I feel completely emotionally and physically drained... Long post ahead.

On the 12th of November, I had my baseline scans for a partial IVF cycle to freeze my eggs and preserve my fertility. I had 8-10 follicles between both ovaries. I shouldn’t have been surprised given how low my AMH is, but I was a little disappointed. My doctor seemed alright with those numbers but decided to increase the dose of my FSH medication. I left the clinic with two giant bags of medicine. I was to take 300iu Gonal F and 75iu Luveris daily.

Gonal F was fine. It was a pen, so very simple to use and not horribly painful. Luveris though... Oh, Luveris was a different story. It came in a powder that had to be mixed and prepared before use. It hurt. Every single day. I never got used to it. Technique was not the issue as my mother and stepfather administered them, and they are a nurse and paramedic respectively. It was a slightly larger needle I guess? I don’t know, it stung and continued to hurt after the injection. I hated every minute of that stupid needle. After 5 days, I started to take my antagonist injection, which like the Gonal F was not wildly painful. So then my life became 3 needles every morning until further notice. I wasn’t happy about the situation, but I was relatively OK until I had my second scan.

The sonographer seemed confused. I don’t really blame her. How many 21-year-olds must she see with an IUD undergoing IVF treatment? She asked me to write down some measurements as she told them to me. I wrote down 5 measurements between 18mm and 14mm, and another one that was significantly smaller and probably negligible. She then said she couldn’t see any follicles on my right ovary. Again, nothing has gone well for me thus far so I don’t know why I was surprised, but my heart just sank. I had a nice, big cyst on my right ovary. A cyst and only 5 growing follicles in my left ovary. Great. I hated having to wait to hear from the clinic. The clinic was over 3 hours away so I had my scans and bloods done locally and sent immediately to them. I spent the day wondering if my medication would be increased again. My doctor was happy but wanted to do the tests again in 2 days. Results were much the same, I had no magical extra follicle. I still had the 5, but they grew substantially. They told me when I could finally stop taking my daily injections and when the take my trigger infection. I officially stimmed for 12 days, 32 injections. By then, I had lots of little puncture marks and two very small bruises, and my little sharps container was starting to look like this;

I thought the trigger needle could not possibly be worse than Luveris. The needle looked similar in size to the Orgalutrion, so I figured it’d be fine. Hahahahaha, nope. The initial injection was OK, but then came the pain. My mother said afterwards the fluid seemed to be thicker and it was harder to push out. It was very unpleasant, but the trigger meant the end of the injections at home so at least it was finally over.

The next morning, I was told to use my second urine of the day and take an ovulation test. I got an extremely strong positive. Me being myself, I took another one as well which was also positive. Given my luck, I was surprised and relieved to be seeing a nice, static smiley face.

I was ready for day surgery admission at 6am for an egg retrieval at 7.15am. That little happy face had put me in a good mood. I’d gotten a good ovulation result and I was hopeful with my gigantic, almost-30mm-follicle I would get more than 1 egg from it. I was pretty anxious waiting outside the theatre, but this time I knew I would come out feeling a lot better than I did last time, where I had a laparoscopy and endometriosis excised. They told me that they would leave a little sticker or write on my hand the number of eggs they retrieved, and then I was put to sleep.

When I woke up in recovery, I pretty much instantly started blindly looking at my hands for a number. I finally found it on the palm of my left hand, and...

Once again, I felt my heart sink. I’d told myself I had 5 follicles and I would be happy if they got 5 eggs, but that was a lie. I’m not OK with this outcome. I’m so damn young, I don’t understand how I produced such a poor number of eggs... I could only think of my stepmother who was older, had slightly worse AMH than I did and was on less medication who had a whopping 12 eggs retrieved. Apparently that was unexpected and it was an amazing result. I am genuinely glad for her, because getting such a low number like this was absolutely garbage. I’m angry at myself. I feel like I’ve completed wasted my parents' finances on this cycle, I was only going to get one shot and I stuffed it. I know 5 retrieved eggs is arguably OK and it only takes 1. I know this. But I’m still not happy about it. Maybe I’m struggling so much with this because I feel like I’m barely an adult myself. I wanted to get out of recovery and go straight home. I felt fine afterwards. I’ve got minor cramping, but it’s got nothing on endometriosis cramps. I wasn’t sick and I haven’t bled at all. When I got home, they rang to tell me of the 5 eggs they retrieved, 1 was not mature so they have successfully frozen 4. They then told me congratulations. That just made me sad and angry. I know for many women, this would be fantastic. But I’m 21. How is only 4 mature eggs from someone my age worthy of congratulations? This doesn’t feel like a backup plan at all. This feels like a reality check for how difficult it is going to be for me to conceive a child.

My egg retrieval was yesterday, so I guess all of this is still really fresh. I’m devastated. I don’t feel good after this. I’m exhausted. I didn’t get the results I was hoping for. It feels like there’s nothing more to do at this point. I won’t even know if those 4 eggs are any good until I go to use them. I don’t feel like I can even count on my young age to be in my favour regarding their quality, my age hasn’t helped me with this so far... I want answers, but at the same time I don’t know if I can handle more heartbreak right now. I think I feel a little better getting it all out in this post though, so that’s something I guess.

#personal #endometriosis #diminished ovarian reserve #young and infertile #IVF #fertility preservation #cw needles #tw needles #infertility #egg retrieval #poor responder #AMH #:(

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ijustwanttowritefanfic · 6 years

Text

Work in Progress

I came across a prompt a few days ago about Yang being a bartender and Neo being an assassin. I liked it, so I started my own. Here is the first part. Tomorrow, I’ll read it over and do some editing. And maybe come up with a better opening.

Story under the cut

Yang closed up shop. Set glasses to dry through the day, restocked the low bottles, wheeled in a keg of ale that sold out. The drawer was counted, the safe balanced, tips stuffed into the pocket of her coat. Tuesday night, barely even a hundred lin. It would be enough for her to buy her pain pills for the next week. A half empty bottle of gin from the well joined the money in her pocket. Junior would take it out of her paycheck, but she needed something to help her sleep tonight.

Her right arm pulsed in agony at the thought of the painkillers. The cheap prosthetic functioned, but barely. Yang pulled the leather glove over the offending hand, her jacket covering up the metal framework of her forearm and elbow. She grabbed her cane and locked up the bar.

A cold breeze cut through the thick leather of her coat, making Yang debate a warm meal or a warm taxi to carry her home. Her hip ached, a counterpoint to the pain in her arm. She gritted her teeth as comfort now battled comfort later.

“No, Yang, it’s just a little cold, the walk isn’t that far,” she muttered. Barely twenty minutes, and she had one last dose of painkillers waiting at home. Combined with the gin, she knew sleep would find her.

The crash from the alley startled Yang, the tip of her cane pointed at the sound. The wet impact of flesh on flesh froze Yang in her spot.

Another impact, this one mixed with the sound of bone on bone, drew Yang into the alley.

“Come on, bitch, say something.” A slap echoed from behind a dumpster. “What, you murder my boss, half my gang, and you have nothing to say for yourself? At least give me a scream.” The spine shivering sound of a knife being removed from its stealth pulled Yang closer.

A man with dirty red hair and a maroon jacket pinned someone against the wall of her bar. His back blocked out who it was, although Yang saw a pair of boots dangling between his legs, black leather with thick soles. Something thick and viscous dripped off the tip of one of them.

The man raised his arm over his head, a knife clutched in it.

The cane smacked the back of his knees. He fell back.

The cane hit the arm holding the knife. Bone crunched under the solid wood.

The knife slid into the darkness.

The cane hit shoulder, chest, neck, head.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, snap. The bottom half of the cane followed the knife, the top half pulling Yang down. She sprawled over the top of the man. He wheezed in pain, trying to lift his arm. Yang scrambled off him. She bumped into the man’s victim.

The lady with the black leather boots hissed in pain, her hand grabbing Yang’s whole arm. Her face was swollen, blood streaked across it. Pink and brown hair matted with the blood that covered her face. She wore what had been once been a white trench coat, now more of a mud and blood colored coat, tears along the sleeves and torso hinting at were the blood came from. Her head rolled back, her eyes unfocused.

Yang stared at those eyes, one pink, one brown. She knew them, one of her regulars had similar eyes. The lady who always drank a pint of bitters, tipped well. Now she bleed all over a back alley, all over Yang. She needed help.

Yang wrapped her whole arm around the lady’s shoulder, using her other to push her up. It gave tortured squeak as Yang put most of her weight on it. She ignored it, she had to help.

Standing, Yang held the lady on her feet, but the lady teetered on unsteady feet. No way would this lady be able to walk. She barely came up to Yang’s chest, and Yang had seen thicker toothpicks. Bending down, she swung her false arm under her legs, carrying her like a sleepy child.

Yang turned to walk out of the alley when a hand grabbed her ankle. The man pulled himself closer to both of them, his other hand raising up.

He had the knife back, he would finish her off. She spun, stomping her bad leg down onto his skull.

Crack.

His empty hand fell back to the ground. Blood pooled out of his temple, his eyes stared at nothing.

Yang limped out of the alley. The lady shivered in Yang’s arms, curling up against her.

“Fuck, where is the nearest hospital?” Yang cast her head around, looking for a taxi, or the hospital. Something shook against her breasts, and the lady in her arms shook her head.

“What? I shouldn’t take you to the hospital?”

Her head kept shaking back and forth.

“Where else can I take you? I mean, I have a first aid kit at home…” The lady nodded her head at that. “Fuck, fine. I’m taking a taxi, though.”

A fistful of lin thrust its was up from Yang’s embrace. “Oh, well that’ll help.” She took it, and the arm hung back down limpy.

A taxi turned the corner a few minutes later, and Yang flagged it down.

Opening the door, the taxi driver turned around, eyeing the lady in Yang’s arms. “Hey, everything okay?”

Yang put on her most innocent smile, which looked only slightly guilty. “Yeah, my friend just had too much to drink.”

The driver looked like she didn’t believe her. “Listen, girl, I-”

“Here, take us home, and it’s all yours,” Yang said as she thrusted the roll of lin at the driver. She plucked it from Yang’s hand and turned around.

“You got it, where to?”

Yang rattled off her address before settling into the back. They all drove in silence. The lady in Yang’s arms felt limp, and Yang worried she might be dead. Her whole arm against the lady’s ribs felt the shallow breaths.

The taxi driver dropped them off in front of the brownstone building Yang called home, speeding away as soon as the door closed. Yang felt the same way.

Careful juggling allowed her to pull her keys out of her pocket and let them in. The elevator took them to the fourth floor.

Inside her apartment, she laid the lady down on a threadbare couch and limped over to her bathroom. The first aid kit, a robust one from another lifetime, sat dust covered under the sink. Her medicine cabinet held the bottle of aspirin and a translucent orange bottle with one large horse pill. Her bad arm ached, her good arm arched, her bad leg screamed, and that one pill was all she needed to silence them all. It would fog her brain and dull the rest of her body. Maybe after she took care of the lady on her couch.

Stopping in the kitchen area, Yang filled a bowl with water and grabbed a few towels. She lugged the large kit out to the sectioned off area she called a living room, Yang sat in front of the unconscious lady. Under the jacket, she looked even smaller than before. Numerous cut covered her torso, arms and a nasty gash on the outside of her thigh bled onto the ugly couch.

The first aid kit opened eagerly under Yang’s thumbs. First things first, clearing the area around the wounds. Removing the coat winded Yang, and under it, the lady’s clothes were shredded. The shears in the kit made quick work of her top and most of her pants. Removing the boots turned out to be easy, even if they had too many buckles and zippers.

The lady’s body was patterned with a number of old and new scars. Yang also noticed that the lady was ripped. It reminded her of the gladiators she knew from her youth. The muscles lacked definition, but damn, she had them packed on.

Her hand traced over the lady’s bicep and Yang sat in awe. Gashes covered her forearms, made colorful from the bruising as well.

Thin, surgical like scars made a half circle over her throat. Using the water, she cleaned off her neck, but it was just bloody, not injured. Her face had a nasty laceration over her left eye. It would need stitches. Her torso was colored black and blue, although Yang felt nothing deformed. A nasty gash started under her left breast and curved around her side.

The muscles in her legs felt better than the ones in her arm, and Yang’s totally professional touching found no broken bones. Her outer right thigh had been sliced open, and it bleed pretty badly still.

It took a few trips back and forth to the kitchen area to clean off all the blood. The next trip to the laundromat was going to suck. That or living with pink towels. Bloody pink towels. On one hand, it was very metal, on the other, ew.

The iodine in the kit was still good, for another month. Yang eyed the gin bottle on the floor next to her, but its alcohol content was too low to be of much use for cleaning wounds. Holding the needle in her mouth as she used her good hand to thread the it. Her hand shook. Yang hadn’t sewn anyone up since her accident, and before that, she had always used right hand. The replacement hung at her side, useless. The wounds bled still, and Yang knew she needed to close them.

A swig from the gin bottle steadied her. She could do this, this was just like training, just like all those times out in the wilderness. A few stitches, and it would all be over.

Her hand steady, Yang closed up the wound on her thigh, than over her eye, the gashes along her arms, the one across her back. Old instincts kicked in, and each wound closed faster than the one before it.

The sun peeked through the browned curtains by the time Yang finished. The gin bottle laid on it side, empty, and Yang envied it.

Standing on protesting legs, she walked once more into the bathroom and cleaned her hands. Her shirt and pants were ruined, and she stripped out of them. The shower called to her, but Yang felt the siren song of sleep more.

Passing the couch, Yang paused. The ugly piece of shit was ruined. No one should be sitting on it, let alone sleeping on it. But Yang only had one bed.

Well, her guest took up less space than anyone else Yang had slept with. Picking her up, Yang limped over to her bed. She laid the lady down gently before removing her false arm and crawling in. The lady rolled into Yang, curling up against her side. Making sure the blanket covered her guest, Yang laid her head down.

For once, sleep came easy.

#rwby #yang xiao long #neopolitan #neopolitian (rwby)#baked alaska #violence #wip #feedback wanted #writeblr

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bloodfromthethorn · 3 years

Text

Screaming

Callahan has a grudge to settle, but Mac's refusing to play ball.

Part seven of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge, and a continuation of yesterday’s entry.

Also on AO3.

Mac didn’t know, precisely, where he was or how long he’d been there. What he did know was that he’d very much like to go home if that was quite alright with everyone. He was exhausted and aching and he was pretty sure one of the guys who’d bundled him into the boot of the car had broken his wrist wrenching it behind his back. All in all, his day wasn’t going well, and he was more than ready for it to be over.

Callahan had done as he’d promised and spent a good few hours knocking Mac around like that was his job or something, but Mac’s insistence on not making a sound had rapidly stolen any pleasure he might have found. It wasn’t exactly a victory when it left Mac sporting a bloodied lip and bruises on top of bruises, but it won him just the slightest sliver of power back. He wasn’t about to let that go.

Robbed of the power trip he’d evidently been seeking, Callahan had spat some general abuse at him and stalked off, promising worse things to come. Mac didn’t doubt him. He also didn’t have much hope of escaping given the aforementioned broken wrist, and the guard Callahan was apparently smart enough to leave just inside the door staring at him intently. Even if Mac could get out of his cuffs, which let’s be honest would hardly even rank as a challenge, he didn’t fancy his chances in a fistfight right then.

With that plan out the window, Mac’s options were wait around for an opening he could exploit, or wait around in the hopes that Jack turned up with his rescue. Either way, his immediate choice was the same.

The problem was that left him free to fret over Bozer – he’d still been breathing when Mac had been unceremoniously dragged from the house but Mac had no idea what had been in that syringe and Boze had hit the deck hard. Jack and Riley had been planning to come over for dinner so one of them must have stumbled across the scene by now, but that was no guarantee of anything at all. For all Mac knew, Boze could have been dead and gone long before any of them had the chance to get anywhere close.

The thought was crushing, unbearable, but Mac just couldn’t get it out of his head. Even as he knew Jack would be scolding him for not worrying about his own safety when it was in such immediate danger, all he could think about was the surprise on Boze’s face when the needle had slid into his arm. Had it been too late then? Had the die already been cast?

Mac was built to fix things, but there would be no repairing that loss.

Tangled up in his thoughts, it was almost a relief when Callahan reappeared – almost. He was tailed by a much smaller man holding a doctor’s satchel who looked like he had about as much desire as Mac to be there. When his eyes landed on the prisoner though, something bright came alive behind his oval glasses and Mac felt his heart sink; whoever this man was, he might have distaste for the run-down farmhouse he’d been brought to but that evidently didn’t extend to the work he was meant to do. Mac had seen that look on the faces of others before, and every single time in the past it had promised pain.

“I hope you have been comfortable in my absence,” Callahan said insincerely, his natural accent barely noticeable under the faux American affectations. “I would hate to think of my guests as unhappy.”

True to his earlier resolution, Mac bit his tongue and kept silent.

Callahan’s mocking grin curled into a snarl. “Ah, of course, yes, you refuse to speak with me. The people of your country are so terribly rude, did you know? That’s why I’ve brought my friend here.” He gestured broadly to the man beside him, who was still staring at Mac like he was a piece of meat to be savoured. The sensation was deeply unpleasant. “Doctor, please, your work awaits you.”

That was the only prompting the man needed, apparently, because he strode purposefully towards the table off to Mac’s left and started rummaging through his bag. When his hands reappeared with a packaged syringe and an unlabelled vial, something cold went down Mac’s spine.

Callahan had taken issue with Mac’s refusal to cry out in pain, but he hadn’t been demanding information from him so the chances of it being something to induce suggestibility wasn’t all that high. That left- well. A whole bunch of awful shit Mac one hundred percent did not want having free reign in his bloodstream.

The doctor tore open the syringe pack with his teeth and deftly inserted it into the vial, his eyes still on Mac. “Hmm,” he was muttering to himself, “About six foot, muscles – maybe 190 pounds? Young, strong heart…”

He was judging the dose, Mac realised suddenly. Not only was he about to be injected with some unknown substance, he was apparently going to be getting a dose eyeballed by a man who looked like he’d enjoy watching Mac die just for the academic interest it would provide. This day just got better and better.

Callahan was watching with a smug, self-satisfied smile on his face. Even if every alarm bell wasn’t already going off in Mac’s head, that would be warning enough that things were about to get really, really bad. Now would be an absolutely fantastic time for Jack to show up.

Only, this apparently wasn’t that kind of story because Mac was forced to watch helplessly as the doctor cross to his side, rolled up his sleeve, and plunged the needle into his arm without the slightest hesitation. There was a tiny prick of pain as the needle went in, then the tell-tale flash of ice as the cool liquid hit his system, spreading up from his elbow to engulf his upper arm. The rest of him broke out in a cold sweat as his cortisol levels hit the roof and kept rising.

“Well now,” Callahan said cheerfully, “That should help, don’t you think? I don’t imagine we’ll get much coherent out of you, but I don’t suppose that matters. I’ll just be pleased to hear you sing.”

It took every ounce of Mac’s self-control to keep himself still and quiet. The instant he was out of these cuffs, he fully intended to introduce his fist to Callahan’s face as fast as humanly possible.

“Tell me, have you heard of yohimbine?” The man asked pleasantly.

It was obvious from his tone that he expected the answer to be no, but then, he didn’t know Mac. He raced through his knowledge of the most recent scientific studies he could remember, producing a quick mental checklist of side effects and risks. There wasn’t a lot he could do about any of them right now, of course, but if that rescue did show up, it would be good to have as much information as possible. Still, as it was… this was not good news.

“It’s a strange little chemical,” Callahan continued, unphased by Mac’s sudden revelation. “People used to think that it could be used to help men succeed in… certain intimate activities.” He raised a lascivious eyebrow. “They were wrong, I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear, but their greatest failing was not realising the true potential of what they had. Now, it’s not perfect on its own. A few doses of yohimbine can cause anxiety and stress, but that’s hardly too impressive. After all, why would I need a chemical to do in days what I can do in minutes when given the right equipment?”

He started circling the room slowly, as if delivering a lecture to an interested class. More uncomfortably, the doctor settled himself down on the floor right in front of Mac with a notebook perched in his lap, ready to record his reaction. Mac’d been in plenty of distressing situations before, but none of them had made him feel like a lab rat quite as much as this.

“But then I met my friend here,” he said with another gesture towards the doctor, “And together we realised that it can do so much more with a little help. It turns out that if you combine yohimbine with thiopental sodium and palmitate you can drastically increase its potency. Mix them all together in just the right quantities and the results are… sublime.”

Mac did a quick mental search: pentothal to induce suggestibility or hypnosis and palmitate to increase cellular uptake, at the risk of lowering the toxicity barrier. In theory, both could work together to make the yohimbine faster acting and much stronger, turning ‘mild anxiety’ into something a lot more threatening. Assuming there weren’t any adverse interactions he couldn’t foresee and the doctor had judged the dosage correctly, Callahan was right: Mac’s day was about to get so much worse.

And, as if that wasn’t enough, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

The discomfort crept in slowly at first, so much so it was hard to disconnect it from the general sense of worry and stress he’d been warding off ever since he was abducted. After all, this was hardly a situation in which anxiety was an unreasonable response.

Unfortunately, that didn’t last all that long. He could feel his heart rate steadily climbing as panic built up in his gut, followed by the nausea that swept in to keep it company. His breath quickened to match his racing heart; soon enough he was having to actively concentrate on stopping himself from hyperventilating as he grew more and more lightheaded and his vision turned foggy and grey. Next came the hallucinations – whether a product of the drug itself or merely an unintended side effect brought about by a lack of oxygen in his brain, he had no idea – which began with sudden flashes of movement in the corner of his vision before evolving into more substantial threats as his mind sunk deeper into the hold of the drug.

From what little he could still see, the doctor was busy scribbling notes on his observations while Callahan leaned casually against the wall, staring at him like anyone else might behold a museum exhibit. Neither of them seemed at all concerned with the shadows creeping around the edge of the room, moving ever closer to where he was bound.

One came within arm’s reach in a rapid darting motion before falling back to join its fellows and before he knew what he was doing, Mac had half thrown himself in the opposite direction with a strangled whimper. The noise seemed to scare the shadows back for a time, and Mac was able to haul in a few unhindered breaths, but they came crawling back in all the same.

He had no idea what they were or where he was, all he knew was that he wanted out. He needed to get out of there, away from the shadows, and he needed help to do it. Where was Jack? Jack would never leave him there when he was so afraid, Mac was sure of it. He’d never once hesitated to put himself between Mac and a threat, even when that threat was something he himself was afraid of – that was just the sort of person Jack was. So even if he was as terrified as Mac felt in that moment, he should be there.

Something brushed against the back of his knee and he kicked out wildly with a yell, nearly toppling his chair with the force of his thrashing. He squeezed his eyes shut in the hope it would somehow help, but he immediately realised that not being able to see the creatures sneaking up on him was incalculably worse. He wrenched them back open with a sob of fear, eyes rolling about wildly as he tried to identify anything he’d missed.

Distantly he could feel his heart about to beat of his ribs, the pulse so rapid that his whole chest was throbbing with the strain of it. Each breath had to be pulled in through a clenched tight, aching throat. Any concept of where he was and what he was going there was long gone, replaced by simple fears and base terror. His body was trembling like a leaf.

A weight landed on his shoulder, and his head snapped around to look at the clawed, deadened hand grasping at him, tightening in his shirt to drag him down, back into the depths of the hell it must have crawled out of and Mac could feel it now, the coldness sinking into his skin with a wild thrill of unnatural and no matter what he did, he’d never be able to wash that away and-

-he screamed.

And screamed.

Jack knew it had been naïve to assume arriving at his partner’s house to find Bozer unconscious, no Mac, and the obvious signs of a struggle would be the worst moment of his day, but he’d still sort of hoped, y’know? The chances of finding Mac completely unhurt might have been low, but even with that in mind, he’d still been utterly blindsided by the scene they’d eventually uncovered: Callahan, a guard, and a seriously creepy dude with a notebook all standing around watching a bound Mac as he screamed and convulsed.

Mac’s face was a mess of bruises and blood from a split lip and what might have been a broken nose, but the superficial damage utterly paled in comparison to his overall state. The blonde’s eyes were rolling in his skull, froth bubbling at the corner of his gaping mouth as he thrashed against the ropes holding him down. Even with his breath shuddering and rasping, he was still somehow finding enough air to unleash a barrage of screaming and sobbing, studded by the occasional string of garbled words that sounded vaguely like pleading. He didn’t look like he was aware of what was going on around him – didn’t look like he knew what planet he was on – but whatever he was seeing, it clearly wasn’t good.

It took all of one second of Jack seeing his partner like that for something red to descend over him and by the time he next took stock of himself, the guard was unconscious and Callahan was shrieking something about the gunshot that had just shattered his knee. Jack answered him with another bullet, and the man fell silent. The weird guy with the book was cowering in the far corner, staring at Jack like he was the twisted one in this scenario, but he was unarmed and Jack dismissed him as no real threat. He could leave the tac team right behind him to worry about that one.

No, his focus needed to be on Mac. It took a surprisingly long amount of time to cut him free of the ropes what with the way he was thrashing, completely insensate and oblivious to Jack’s presence. All the same, Jack kept up a steady stream of soothing words as he worked, hoping that somewhere in there, his partner could hear him and know that help had finally, finally arrived. If Mac did hear him, he certainly didn’t show it.

When the ropes came free, the most Jack could do for him was get him on the ground, his head pillowed in Jack’s lap, and keep track of his racing pulse while the medical team streamed into the room. Jack had never been happier about Matty’s preparedness, but so much of his being was focused on Mac in that moment he couldn’t spare the attention needed to voice it. Instead, all he was left to do was sit there and watch as his partner fell to pieces.

When Mac woke, it was with a familiar sense of knowing that he’d been asleep for a long time. His limbs felt heavy and uncoordinated, and his head was stuffed with cotton wool in a way it only really was when he was coming out of anaesthetic. It wasn’t a nice sensation, but he’d grown used to it years ago and these days it was largely associated with the relative safety of hospitals. Being in them might not be good, but it was usually better than whatever had landed him there in the first place.

A quick mental assessment identified a few points of pain – his face felt swollen and his throat was burning faintly – but for the most part he seemed remarkably intact. That was… well, not exactly a first, but certainly not the norm. The curiosity of it more than any real desire to wake up was what made him open his eyes, automatically searching for the figure he knew would be at his side.

Jack blinked lazily back at him. He had one elbow propped up on the arm of his chair, supporting his chin. The other arm was draped idly beside Mac’s hip on the bed, his hand resting over his partner’s. When Mac just stared at him, Jack’s eyes narrowed in consideration. “You look like you’re actually awake this time.”

Mac wanted to ask what he meant by this time, but when he opened his mouth, all his throat gave him was a sad little hiss of air.

“Ay, don’t try to talk,” Jack scolded instantly, half rising out of his chair as though he could do anything to help. “Your throat’s all torn up, you’ve gotta rest it. No talking,” he said again, sternly, with a pointed finger as he settled back in his chair. “You’re actually awake then? For real this time?”

Lesson learned, Mac offered him a very careful nod.

His partner’s face did something complicated, flickering through any number of emotions too rapidly to track before finally settling on what Mac would probably have dubbed ‘exhausted relief’. They both politely pretended Jack’s eyes weren’t red. “Well. Thank fuck. You’ve gotta stop doing this to me Mac, my heart can’t take it. You had Bozer and Riley all worried too – I’ve only just managed to convince them to get some rest.”

Mac was momentarily bowled over by sudden, sheer relief – Bozer was alright. Jack wouldn’t be talking about him like that if he wasn’t, which meant that all of Mac’s fears about whatever drug had been in his system were all for nothing. No matter what else had happened, that was all that really mattered. The scariest part about waking up in any hospital was not knowing what had happened to the rest of his family and that went double when one of the last things you could remember was one of them in trouble.

Fortunately, Jack knew him well enough to fill him in on the details unprompted. “Yeah, Bozer’s fine, don’t worry. Whatever they hit him with knocked him out for a few hours, but it’s all out his system now and he’s doing great. He’s been much more worried about you, to be honest. We all were.”

From the little bits and pieces Mac could remember of his time with Callahan, he thought he could probably understand that. Whatever scene Jack had arrived to find, it couldn’t have been pretty. He wanted to apologise for that, and to thank him for what had no doubt been a spectacular rescue, but his throat wasn’t about to cooperate. Given the abuse he vaguely remembered giving it, he wasn’t entirely surprised. All he could really do was twitch his fingers against Jack’s arm and offer him the shadow of a smile.

As he always did, Jack understood.

“Yeah man,” he said, choked up and pretending not to be, “I’m glad you’re back too.”

AN: So I basically invented Scarecrow's fear toxin and backed it up with fake science? For clarity, thiopental sodium can induce suggestibility, palmitate does lower cellular toxicity thresholds (and is really, really bad in oh so many ways), and yohimbine was originally used as an erectile dysfunction medication but has subsequently been found to be ineffective. There is some evidence that it can cause increased anxiety, but it 100% does not work like I pretended it does.

#MacGyver #angus macgyver #jack dalton #fanfiction #my fanfic #fanfic #whump of july 2021 #sorry folks #forgot the read more break #my bad

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fuckyeahfics · 4 years

Text

Sturmvoegel - Chapter 2

Rated: R/NC-17

Word count: 6905

Warning: violence, emotional distress

A/n: I am catching up with my posting schedule

Feedback is always appreciated, do let me know what you think!

___

Darkness. That was the first thing the girl noticed. She put out her hand and it was swallowed by the pitch black night.

Emily tried to blink, she screwed up her eyes in hope of getting used to the dark, but it was hopeless.

The princess took a deep breath when the distinct scent of scent of wet moss hit her, a mix of earthy undertones with mouldiness.

She closed her eyes and started fumbling her surroundings with her hands. The moment she touched the wet, slightly cold and slimy surface, she jumped back.

The girl knew where she was now. She was back in the catacombs, the place she had only just escaped.

Her arms felt incredibly sore and when she touched her wrists she could feel the bruised skin under her fingertips. The rope had cut deep into her lilac skin, leaving deep abrasions. It was as if the first layer of her skin was completely destroyed.

She tried to make out where she had to go now, fumbling along the wet walls, each stone feeling a little different than the other. Some felt a little chalky and she wondered just how deep she went inside the cave-like structure.

Emily tried walking and she managed to walk a few meters, until a stone stopped her journey. It made her stumble carelessly and she ended up on her knees, shouting out in pain.

The girl sat down and inspected her knees, she could feel a wetness coming from them, but without a source of light it was impossible to determine whether it was her own blood or just water on her hands.

She could feel abrasive burn on both knees, touching them made her moan in pain, since every single touch felt like fire. Emily pulled her skirt over the knees only to painfully moan once again, the slightly damp cotton stuck on the wounds.

Getting up was another challenge, but eventually she managed, taking much smaller steps forward now and feeling the ground now before taking proper steps.

She was in pain and wanted nothing more, than to escape the dull darkness, when she heard something. Normally she would've asked for help immediately, but the last few hours had left her scared, so all she did was listen.

Heavy steps could be heard, still quite far away, but definitely coming from the direction she was walking away from.

It wasn't until she heard the voice calling her name, that her blood started rushing through her head feverishly.

"Emily," the voice called. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

She clasped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from making a single noise, listening carefully.

"Ohh princess," the voice mocked. "Don't make it so hard on me." She took a deep breath, and a part of her wanted to hide and cover her ears, so that she didn't need to hear another word from him. But she was too curious and wanted to know what he'd say next.

"Emily," he shouted once again, and the girl just stood there, waiting for his next words. Something changed and his voice got even deeper and more dangerous now, making the hair in the back of her neck stand up. "Come out, or you will regret it."

The girl realised that she had to get away. She wanted to run, but it was as if her feet were glued to the ground. She tried her best to lift them up, but nothing happened.

She could hear him getting closer and closer, taunting her with his voice.

"You really shouldn't have run away!"

She still fought with her body, she tried to move, to run, to get away from him, but it was impossible. So she gave up, she sank down onto the ground and hugged her knees, not caring about the burning feeling in her wounds.

Emily cried bitterly, she was shaking and hyperventilating, clearly in huge distress. All she could hear was this voice, a voice that scared her to her core.

The girl sat there and sobbed, while trying to move her feet. She put her hands around her ankle, but somehow she could only go back to were the voice was. It was as if there was an invisible wall in front of her, where she could not pass through.

She leaned back and the back of her head hit the rough stones behind her, the uneven texture digging into her scalp. She did not care, all she wanted was for this to be over.

"Come here, Emily!" The voice was still calling for her and maybe she would've tried to fight him, if she had any power left in her, but the bruised up young woman was hopeless.

She could hear his footsteps a lot clearer now, he must be near. So the girl closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer up out of the cave and into the sky. Maybe the Gods would hear her and pity her enough to release her.

"Now, where would a princess hide?"

Emily wanted to cry out in frustration. She had relived the scene over and over in her mind, why was she back here. She touched her wrists again, clearly feeling the rope marks, but no ropes.

The princess started to breathe faster, she could feel the blood pumping through her ears. One big question was stuck in her mind. How did she end up here again.

"I can smell your fear!" The voice was so close now, that Emily thought she'd be able to grab the end of his waistcoat, if she stretched out her hands. And yet no one had tried to grab her. She was confused.

That's when she noticed, that she could move her feet again. The girl jumped up in one swift move and started running, her feet hitting the ground, but she did not care.

She could hear her loud footsteps resonating from the stone walls, and the evil laugh of her chaser, but she still wanted to take her chance. So she ran.

The floor was surprisingly even, that was until one single stone stopped Emily's quest. She stumbled hard and tried to burry her fingers into the stone wall to catch her fall. The dirt was filling up the small space under her fingernails and she could feel her nails break under the pressure.

The princess did manage to slow her fall a little, but all the air was still knocked out of her chest, when she fell onto her injured knees again. The scream that she let out sounded a lot like an injured animal, inhumane.

"Oh princess," someone whispered into her ear and she screamed.

He grabbed her roughly by her Hair and waist and pulled her up, the feeling of thousand little needles sticking through her scalp.

She opened her mouth to say something, that's when she realised just how dry and chapped her lips were. It was as if she hadn't had a drop of water in days. Her throat was burning horribly.

None of that mattered when he pressed her against the stones, using his tall body to lock her in. She looked up and searched for his eyes, hoping to plead with him for her life, but it was all pitch black dark.

That's when she felt his hand around her throat, easily wrapped around it. She tried to speak, but the moment she opened her mouth he started choking her.

The air was stuck in her lungs and no new oxygen managed to get through. She tried her best to breathe, but it was impossible. That's when everything turned back.

Night was holding the Liberty and Amity hostage and the moon was the only light source, illuminating the deck of the ship sparely.

A dark figure could be made out in the shadows, holding something heavy, trying to reach their destination in a fast pace.

Alvilda prayed to all her Gods that Harry was somewhere under deck. She had checked earlier and his study was empty, the door to Emily's prison shut close, with the key in there, for anyone to use.

She stepped around the corners, carefully making sure that no one could see her from the starboard side. The girl did let our the breath she never realised she was holding once she could feel the rough texture of the wooden door under her fingertips.

The doorknob was easily found and she pushed the cold iron down, stepping into the room as silently as possible.

She was hoping that she would be able to escape, if the captain was in there, so she stepped in as carefully as possible, closing the door and waiting for a moment, until her eyes got used to the darkness inside.

Al had to stop herself from cheering once she managed to make out the outlines of her surroundings. There was no captain here, thank God.

She put down the jug and cup that she was balancing in her left hand before and turned to the door of the bedroom chamber. Silently stepping closer she turned the key and pushed the door open, carefully inspecting everything to make sure that she would not startle the princess and end up causing a scene.

At first she didn't notice the princess, but her heavy breathing sounded so erratic that Al got a little worried. She could see the girl moving back and forth, tugging harshly on her ropes.

She moved closer and realised that Emily was crying in her sleep. She must've been caught up in a nightmare, nothing else could explain this agitated behaviour.

Al felt so sorry for the young girl in front of her and she sat down and pulled the girl into her embrace, trying to wake her carefully.

"Em," the girl whispered, swaying back and forth. "Dear Emily, please wake up."

At first she feared that her words went unheard, but then the princess opened her eyes wide and stared straight into hers.

She was shaking and clearly upset and the older girl wanted nothing more to comfort her.

"Where am I," the princess finally whispered hoarsely and hearing the girls voice filled with fear and desperation made Al feel as if she was the one torturing her.

"You're on the ship, princess," she whispered sadly, feeling a pang of guilt hitting her, when she noticed the devastating look that darted over the princess face, only visible for a second.

"The ship," the girl mumbled. "I was just back at the cave, how can I be on the ship."

Alvilda looked at her in confusion, nothing the princess said made sense to her. She moved a little and addressed the girl again. "Princess, may I get you some water."

Emily licked over her chapped, dry lips and she could feel a slight hint of a coppery taste on her tongue. She looked up and nodded, regretting her words the moment her friend got up and left her in the cold again.

The warm body was so comforting and she wanted nothing more than to let herself fall into the other girls embrace to forget everything, even if it was just for a moment.

Al hurried to the study, pouring some water into the mug and getting back again. She was holding the mug in one hand while trying to help Emily get up, when the girl winced under her touch.

Seeing her friend move away from her in fear really hurt her, but she knew that she couldn't blame the young girl for her behaviour. Instead of reacting, she sat down on the edge of the bed again and helped Emily drink out of the mug.

The cold water was both a curse and a blessing for the girl, it hit her raw throat and she wanted to scream, yet it filled her with some energy again and revived her will to live.

She finished the mug and three more after, before Al stopped. "Are you a little better now," the older one asked and Emily nodded.

"Good," Alvilda got up and stood in the room, uncertain what to do next.

"Al," Emily whispered. "Can you do me a favour, please."

The older one nodded to agree. "I will do my best, Em."

Emily swallowed hard before she found the strength to form the words that were so clear in her mind. "Can you take care of Louis?"

"Louis," Al replied confused. "Why would he...". The princess interrupted her.

"Harry injured him yesterday," she took a breath, each word burned in her throat and she was unable to blink the tears away. "Make sure he is alright, please."

"Oh Emily," Al let out before embracing her lovingly. "You're the one in pain, yet you worry about him."

The younger one could smell the herbs of Liams' chamber on Al's dress and the scent was so comforting it lulled her in. She embraced her friend and held onto her, as if that could help her. Exhaustion took over her body and she fell asleep once again, this time in the arms of a friend.

Al brushed through her tangled hair to comfort her, trying not to give in into her own feelings of feeling sad and upset. For now she just wanted to make the princess feel a little loved, so that the girl could find hope again.

When she realised that the younger one was sleeping she positioned her onto the pillow, trying to arrange her arms that circulation would no longer be cut off. She searched her skirts pockets until she found the small tin of ointment that she had sneaked away from Liam earlier.

The girl got up and inspected the wounded wrists of the princess under the dim moonlight, before applying some more balm to care for the bruised skin. She made a mental note to hand over the tin to whoever would sneak up to the girl next.

Emily was fast asleep and her breathing was steady now, the nightmare seemingly gone. Al let out a sigh of relief, before she picked everything up and left.

She did not notice the figure in the dark who watched her return from her journey. Alvilda was too caught up in her own thoughts of worry and dread.

The next morning came and passed, Emily stayed on her own. She was too exhausted to care anymore, the nightmare kept haunting her and she felt incredibly helpless.

So, she tried to stay in a somewhat comfortable position, her wrists looked slightly deranged, small droplets of blood dried to the rope.

The princess tried to stretch her legs a little, they felt incredibly sore due to her limitation in movement. She groaned in pain and realized that even if she was free now, she would be unable to just run away.

The girl tried to put her hands over her face, the ropes cutting right into her flesh, but she just wanted to hide from the cruel world for a bit.

Emily didn't even notice that she was crying until she felt how wet her hands were.

The noises on the ship swallowed her silent sobs and no one could hear her pain.

At the other end of the ship, a young man took his first proper steps again, after days of bed rest and fear. Liam watched his friend carefully, a frown on his face.

"I really don't think you should be walking around," he hissed high, the stress in his voice was noticeable.

"Listen," Niall only replied. "I will kill myself if I just lie around any longer." He took the crutches and hobbled through the room, smiling from ear to ear once he made it to the door.

"Look at me," the Irishman announced loudly. "I am as good as new."

The door opened and he had to make a quick jump to not be hit. A mob ow brown curls appeared in the frame and Niall smiled when he saw the Captain.

"Ay, Ay Captain," he joked, saluting in front of him. "Sailor Niall, awaiting your orders."

A small smile appeared on Harry's lips and for a second he managed to push away his anger and fear. "My orders are, that you need to get healthy again."

Niall rolled his eyes. "Did you and the herbs fucker come up with this plan," he looked slightly annoyed. "I am fine," he then replied, turning around to show them that he was.

"I'd still want you to take it slow," the captain replied. "Captain and medico's order," he finished.

"Whatever," Niall waved them off. "You too keep seeing the world in a bad light," he mumbled, slowly wobbling out of the door. "I will enjoy it in multicolour."

With that he left these two behind and made his was on deck.

"Should we follow him," Liam questioned, but Harry only waved him off. "I have a feeling he will go see the girl."

Liam looked surprised. "And you are ok with that."

Harry stood there for a second deep captured by his own thoughts, before he finally replied. " I honestly can't tell you, but that goes for most things these days." He leaned back against the wall. "So I'll let them, it's not like she can run away again."

He pushed himself off the wall and left the medico behind, mouth wide open in surprise.

The captain was right, Niall was going straight for Harry's bedroom chamber. It took him a lot longer than he thought and he was in pain, but he finally made it to the captains study and pushed the door open.

He could see the key stuck in the bedroom door and limbed over as good as he could, leaning his crutches against the wall while turning the key and pushing the door open.

Emily was on the bed, her shoulders moving back and forth in despair and Niall had to hold himself back to not just run over there and pull her in his arms.

He closed the door carefully, to allow them some privacy, before slowly walking over, holding onto his crutches tight. She did not notice him.

When he finally reaches the bed he drops the wooden crutches and sinks down onto it, doing his best to pull her into his frame without hurting himself too much.

It was as if Emily had waited for him to touch her, she threw herself into him, not noticing the painful wince he let out.

She just laid in his arms, crying bitterly and he swayed back and forth, hoping his wound hadn't start bleeding again.

Niall started humming an Irish song that his mother used to teach him. He tried to remember the lyrics, but only remembered the chorus.

"Curse and swear, Lord Kildare, Fiach will do what Fiach will dare!" He was singing now and Emily finally stopped crying and looked up.

"What are you singing," she asked and it made him smile that he managed to distract her.

"It's an old song my Ma used to sing all the time," he confessed, blushing a little. "She used to tell me the story."

Emily looked interested. "Can you tell me the story," she asked and he nodded.

"A long time ago, starting in 1579 one of my ancestors started a rebellion against your kind." He smiled shyly and Emily giggled.

"Please remember, I am not a tudor," she alluded and he nodded.

"Well, the kind that used to rule over us all then," Niall added. "The Irish were sick of it and fought the second Desmond rebellion."

"Did they win," the princess and Niall smiled sadly.

"The fought this great battle in the Wicklow mountains," he explained. "It is still know as Cath Ghleann Molúra, or how you'd call it the Battle of Glenmalure."

"They actually won," Emily wondered, clearly surprises. "But...".

Niall interrupted her. "But winning one battle isn't enough to win a war."

The princess nodded as if she understood, but she seemed still confused.

"There was a siege," Niall explained. "They were all massacred." He stayed silent and Emily felt guilty.

"I am so, so sorry," she whispered.

"Hey," Niall only replied, bopping her nose. "You did not do anything to feel sorry about."

The girl leaned back against his chest and whispered. "But if it wasn't for my kind..."

Niall stopped her. "Then others would run mad." He held her close. "Emily, no matter what, humankind always wants to rule over each other. Your family was just lucky."

"Lucky," the girl whispered darkly. "I wouldn't call us lucky."

"Luckier than common folks," Niall replied. "But I think I know what you mean. Can any of us actually know true happiness before heaven, or are we made to suffer when we're alive to enjoy an eternity with God."

Both stayed silent for a while, before Emily moved a little, applying some more pressure on his wound which made him wince again.

"Niall," the girl shouted, moving away from him. "Why didn't you tell me you're still in pain."

He moved his hand through his hair, smiling shyly. "Because I like it, when you rest your head on my chest."

"Well, Sir," the girl stated. "I plan on doing that again and again, but you have to stay alive for me."

Niall laughed heartily. "I promise that I stay around to annoy you." He pulled her close again and kissed her forehead tender.

It seemed as if Emily wanted to stay away from him, he failed to properly pull her closer. Niall looked up in confusion, that's when he noticed the rope.

"Emily," he shouted. "Why didn't you say anything." The girl looked confused and got scared when she saw him unbinding her.

"Don't," she whispered fearful. "I am scared of the punishment."

"No," Niall hissed through his teeth, mad at his captain now. Once he got her out of the ropes he inspected her wrists.

Al and Liam had done their best to help Emily, but the damage to the flesh was visible.

Niall pulled her wrists to his lips and kissed the wounds. "No one should put you in chains," he then stated, clearly mad.

"Please," the girl begged. "I only just got you back, don't do anything stupid."

Niall got up, he was so mad and he knew that he had to control his anger. He bowed down and brushed a lose stray of hair out of her face, before answering.

"I promise," he sounded sincere and the princess sighed in relief. "But I need to go blow off this steam."

Emily watched him go, she wanted him to stay, but the girl knew very well that he was right.

"I will be back," Niall promised, before closing the door and leaving her behind.

He was walking outside, nearly stumbling over some ropes carelessly thrown on the ground, his crutches slightly entangled in the jute.

The young man huffed loudly, before resting against the wall and bowing down to ground to release the wooden crutches.

He could feel someone's gaze on him, but decided to ignore it. Niall know that the Captain would not demand for him to explain himself right now.

The memories were still fresh and he could still feel the pain that stung his heart when he first laid eyes on her just now. All captured and helpless, a trace of tears on her face.

The way her eyes had pleaded him to help her, how she had brushed through her hair in distress and how the princess had basically lunged herself into his arms all of this affected him.

So he did the one thing that might help him, he walked further away from the man who caused her distress, looking for the one friend who'd always manage to calm him down.

Going down the stairs to get below deck was a challenge and he took every single step as slowly as possible, holding onto the handrail to make sure he would not sink down on his feet.

Niall took a deep breath, the sharp pain of his injury blurring his mind. He stopped and held onto his crutches, before slowly putting his hand on his shirt, scared to feel the warm blood seeping through the cotton.

When he finally dared to touch himself, he immediately sighed in relief. There was no blood, at least not on the shirt or outside the bandage. He even dared to look down and as just proven, not a single drop of scarlet blood was visible.

He continued his journey and the eerie lighting of the lanterns on the walls were soon the only source of light for him. Shadows were following him, but he knew that he could just swipe them away with his hand.

Niall's journey took him to the cabin of the first mate. He knocked, then opened the door, but the room, although incredibly dark, seemed empty.

"Zayn," he questioned, his words swallowed by the darkness. "Mate, any chance that you are around?"

Nothing. Just silence.

He stumbled forward and pushed the door wide open, hoping that the dim light of the hallways would manage to provide some more insight into the room.

Nothing. The bed seemed unused and there was no sign that his friend had been here recently.

Niall was exhausted and he allowed himself to walk towards the bed and lay down on it, just for a second. He barely noticed, how he closed his eyes and how exhaustion washed over him.

Darkness lured him into another sphere, the shadows taking over.

No one was looking for him, so his absence went unnoticed to all, but one.

The young man with the raven black hair was sneaking into his room. He wanted to get a fresh shirt, but he was just not ready to face anyone. His hair looked tousled and his whole appearance was less gracious than usual, but Zayn truly did not care.

The last couple of days had taken a toll on the young Mughal man and he was still fighting his inner demons.

He did not notice Niall at first, but when the young Irishman started tossing and turning, he winced, startled by the sudden realization that he was not alone.

It took his eyes a few more seconds to get used to the darkness, that's when he finally managed to make out the sleeping figure in front of him. Or at least he was hoping he was asleep.

Niall was whining is his sleep, clearly in pain and his friend got worried. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, before slowly shaking him to wake him up.

"Niall," he whispered, scared to startle him. "Buddy, wake up."

It took the younger one a whole minute until his friend managed to get through to him. At first he felt the hand on his upper arm, the warmth that radiated from it feeling oddly comfortable.

Then he tried to stretch, regretting it instantly when another shot of pain ripped through his abdomen. He winced and opened his eyes, trying to blink the sleep away.

Niall was unable to make out the figure in front of him, so he went by sure luck. "Zayn?"

"I know you love me," his friend joked and Niall sighed a little. "But sleeping in my bed to get close to me," the friendly mocking made the younger one grin. "That's a new low, don't you agree."

"Tosser," was all the blonde one let out, before trying to lift his upper body up, only to feel the pain rip through him again. He groaned loudly and put his hand over his eyes to stop the tears from coming.

"Here," Zayn offered. "Let me help you." He lifted him up a little, so that he could lean against the wall and put a pillow behind him, to support him.

"Thanks, mate," the Irish one let out, still exhausted from the influx of pain.

Zayn sat down next to him and for a while they just embraced each other's company in silence, up until Niall's voice cut through the air.

"What happened," he asked, sounding deeply worried. "What did I miss."

Zayn wanted to shy away from the topic and replied as carelessly as possible. "What do you mean?"

He could not see it, but he felt as if his friend was rolling his eyes at him. "Come on now," was Niall's reply. "You know very well, what I mean."

Silence surrounded them again and Zayn only nodded, realising a second later that his action was unseen by the other. So he took a deep breath, before pushing the air out of his lungs, letting out a low "Yes".

"So," the younger one replied. "Tell me." The last syllables sounded pleadingly and Zayn felt bad for trying to shy away from the topic. He knew how much he hated the situation, but at least he knew what was going on.

"Harry," he started, but Niall interrupted him.

"Harry completely lost it, from the looks of it." Zayn looked surprised that his friend replied so passionately.

"I can feel the way you look," the blonde one stated, before continuing. "Have you seen the state she's in?"

The question was burning through Zayn's soul and he felt a wave of guilt washing over him. No, he had not checked in on here, instead he was hiding down below, trying to drown his sorrows.

"I couldn't," he let out, surprised just how weak his voice sounded.

"I don't blame ya," his friend immediately replied, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "No one can."

"Harry," the older one started again. "He misread something and now he feels like he has to live out his personal vendetta with her."

"But...," Niall started, only to be stopped immediately.

"No, wait," Zayn interrupted. "There is much more."

"She tried to run away," the Irishman stated. "Didn't she."

"How did you," his friend questioned, but he just shook his head "She is bound to the bed, in ropes. The only plausible reason was, that she tried to escape." He sounded a little sad, but Zayn was too caught up in his emotions to notice it.

"Yeah," the dark haired man replied. "After everything she just tried to run." He stopped for a second and drove through his hair. "And like," he started again. "Who can blame her."

"No one," Niall whispered. "Especially none of us."

Both stayed silent, caught up in their own thoughts. Seconds turned into minutes and they sat there for quite some time, before one of them spoke again.

"I, I mean we," Zayn looked into the darkness, hoping that the perfect solution would appear in front of him. "We need to help her. "

Niall nodded, not sure what else to say. He hoped his friend knew him well enough to realise that.

"Harry needs to be stopped," Zayn continued. "He is not acting rationally right now and we need to make sure he doesn't ruin everything." He stopped for a second, collecting his thoughts.

"We need to stop him, this isn't just about Emily." He took a deep breath, before he continued. "We need to stop him for all our sakes. Or we will be forsaken."

Niall nodded again, dread rushing though his veins. Both knew that they were committing treason by just thinking about stopping him.

Both men did not care.

They sat there a little longer, until the injured one was feeling strong enough to hobble back to his room.

Zayn stayed behind, trying to come up with a reasonable plan for the future.

Everything that happened under deck was hidden to the captains eyes. Harry was too deep in his own anger, stuck on one emotion, to think and care about anything at all.

He was walking around, uncertain where to go to. A part of him was yearning to see the princess again, but he knew that it was a horrible idea.

Still, he kept walking back towards his study, stopping himself from pulling down the handle of the door several times.

Emily was exhausted. She did not care, that the rope was no longer cutting into her skin, but instead lay on the ground, carelessly dropped there.

She did not care, that she could get up again and walk a little. Her limbs were far too tired and numb to be used.

A part of her was missing. Instead of feeling fear or anger or pain she just felt numb.

She leaned back against the headboard of the bed, her eyes closed, but no longer did she dream herself away to a better life.

Too much had happened and the princess was too caught up to find her will to fight again.

She was yearning for release. No matter what form.

Niall had left a while ago, but time became a foreign concept the moment the Captain turned the key, after the first time he put her in ropes. She could notice the difference between day and night due to the light sending beams of light though the only window, but she did not know how many days had past.

Had it been days, she wondered in her mind. The girl looked down on her wrists, caressing the wounded skin. The pattern of the rope was still imprinted on her and the rope marks stung a little, when she brushed over them.

Her fingers felt dry, the skin on it dull and she wondered if that's what hurt the most. She no longer felt like a human. She just couldn't feel.

Emily closed her eyes and tried to escape, once again, but no warm tones were welcoming her behind her eyelids. Everything was just different shades of grey and some specs of light.

She barely noticed that someone entered the study and turned the key to get to her. She did not open her eyes, until his voice cut though the air.

Normally he would've startled her and his words would have an effect on her. The only Emily would have winced and looked up pleadingly.

But she could not bring herself to show any emotions. Not anymore.

"Princess," he hissed through his teeth. "How dare you escape your chains." Harry was walking over and picked them up, ready to restrict her again, when he finally noticed the look in her eyes.

She was not responsive and a part of him got scared, unfortunately he had learned to hide that part far away from his mind.

The girl just stared at him and her eyes scared him. He was used to seeing all her emotions rush through them, whether it was joy or fear or anger. A little twinkle was always visible and a part of him had always loved that.

There was nothing left of it anymore. She kept staring at him blankly and an eery feeling crept up in him. He wanted her to respond again.

"So, I guess your silence tells me you've accepted your punishment and that you are waiting patiently for me to tie you up again."

His words were carried though the air to her, but she did not blink an eye. It was as if she was completely lost on him.

"Princess," he tried again, but nothing, not a single hint of an reaction.

"Emily," he started shouting now stepping closer. "Answer me."

She kept staring and he got so mad, he pushed her down onto the headboard, her head hitting the wood and making a small sound. Yet she did not react.

He stepped back, shocked at his own behaviour. The captain looked around, realising the mess he left behind before, the whole room was torn upside down.

Emily felt the pain in the back of her head, but something stopped her from reacting. She was hoping the pain would dull her senses even more, that she could finally escape this hell.

Harry looked at her. "What do you want?"

This time she showed a reaction. She swallowed hard, before whispering the words. "Just end it."

There was a short glimmer of hope in her eyes, but he was too shocked by her words to pay proper attention. "End it," he whispered to himself, shocked by her request.

The captain took a step back and tried to collect his feelings. A calmness finally covered his body and he realised, that she was lost on him. So he did the one thing, that would bring him satisfaction.

He picked up the ropes again and tied her up, trying to make it more comfortable this time. His actions went unnoticed to her.

When she was all helpless again he stepped back and watched her, ready to let out his verdict.

"Oh, but my dear princess, why should I give you the one thing you crave so much. Not letting you die is the best punishment I could think of!" His lips were pushed together to a cruel smile but his eyes were dull and sad.

The Captain turned around, ready to leave her once again when she realized that he was right. There was nothing worse than being tied to the bed in this room, unable to move properly.

He made it clear that her case was hopeless.

Night came and another day started. Al and Liam had done their best to look after the girl, but they saw the changes in her and were helpless and hopeless.

Niall was resting again, the effort of the last day still putting a strain on his health. He slept away his injury and was captured by his dreams.

It was Zayn, who finally accepted, that he had to change something. Right now he was on deck, watching an angry captain pace back and forth.

Harry was clearly aggravated and normally he would've done anything to help his friend, but the first mate knew that it was the captains own undoing that was haunting him now.

Still, he felt the need to go and tell him about his plans. Zayn came up with a strategy to hopefully save the princess and also his oldest friends soul. Because deep down he knew that Harry would regret everything deeply, once his mind would be clear.

He walked closer, when he noticed that Harry was towering over someone, ready to shout. It was one of the younger boys and he was in tears, looking up fearful.

Zayn knew that he had to do something to stop his once oldest friend, but he feared to step forward. Yet he had no choice.

"Captain," he addressed him, walking towards him as slowly as possible. The next words were on his tongue, leaving a fool taste in his mouth and all he wanted to do was swallow them down and burry them forever.

"We have to talk."

Harry was surprised that he addressed him, his eyes open and his nose a little scrunched up. "What is it," he groused a little.

"I can't do this anymore."

Once the words were out Zayn was unable to look his friend in the eyes. He knew that he was at a point of no return, whatever happened next would determine their destiny together.

"You can't do what anymore," Harry inquired. "You have to be a bit more specific about it."

Zayn looked up again, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Hey," Harry continued. "Old friend, which task is it, that worries you."

Zayn shook his head in disbelief, how could he be so blind.

"Are you serious right now," he questioned, wondering if the Captain had lost his mind.

"What is it," the curly head demanded to know."

"I've seen cruelty before. Horrible things. Things no kid should witness. But these royals, they are cruel because they are bored. They just didn't know better."

Zayn turned around he could no longer face his lost friend. "You are far more dangerous then they ever where. You are filled with hate. I can't witness your destruction. I've seen too much."

"Zayn," Harry let out. "What are you on about."

The first mate let out a dark and humourless chuckle, looking up for a second pleadingly, hoping the sky would release him.

But there was no one saving him from this. He knew, that he had to go through with it.

"Harry, I can't witness this anymore," he confessed with a heavy heart. "You have changed."

The words hit the captain hard and for a second he allowed himself to feel all the emotions, his eyes showcasing just how hurt and confused he was. But only for a moment.

He regained posture and addressed Zayn again.

"So what's your grad plan," he demanded to know, to which Zayn just shook his head.

"There is no plan," he confessed. "All I know is, that we're all slowly turning into monsters." Zayn swallowed hard before he continued. "I don't know about you, but I do not wish to turn into the monster that killed my family."

The words hit the captain hart and he stayed silent. Zayn knew that he had said enough.

He turned a little, but still managed to look the captain straight in the eyes and the sincerity hit Harry. "Goodbye old friend, I hope you're still in there."

One last look was all the captain got. His oldest friend turned around and left the scene.

TBC

feedback // table of content

#onedirectionfanfiction #1DAU #HarryStyesFanfiction #1dfanfic #1dff #Fic:Sturmflut

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lonelypond · 7 years

Text

Casual Lunacy, Chapter 3

Love Live, NicoMaki main pairing, 2K, chapter 3/?

En-Thrall-Ed

Maki ditched Rin and Hanayo as soon as they got near campus and ran home, transforming in the shed and letting herself in the backdoor. Her mother was in bed, her father had been called in to St.Joseph’s. But sleep wasn’t even lurking. She sat in the TV room, music videos running on the screen, twisting Nico’s scarf between her hands. Not a strong Nico smell and someone else’s mixed in slightly, a recent gift maybe...but there was still the trace of peach and vanilla and musk and magic that had become something she searched for whenever she went outside.

“Maki?” Her mother stood in the doorway, bathrobe wrapped around her nightgown.

“Was the music too loud?” Maki stretched for the remote, muting some random K-Pop group.

“A little.” Her mother smiled, “but I’m glad to see you.”

“Yeah,” Maki returned to her default sprawl along the couch’s length, “We’ve both been busy.”

“Out for a prowl tonight?” her mother wondered.

Maki blushed, dipping her head, “Just a brief one.”

“Be careful. And be discreet.” Maki had gotten the same warning in the same strict tone ever since her first transformation at the age of eight.

Pacing back and forth in front of Cup o’ probably didn’t meet her mother’s definition of discreet but Maki just opted to nod and smile, unmuting the TV while her mom searched her non communicative daughter’s face and posture for any cues.

“How is your Cognitive Psychology class?” Maki’s mother decided to take this rare moment as an opportunity.

Maki shrugged, “The cognitive aspects are more interesting than the social so it’s an improvement on last quarter.”

“Are you really interested in Psychology?” Her mother made certain to drain any judgement out of her voice as Maki seemed in a talkative mood.

“With the headache clinic, Papa spends so much time talking about how people’s actions affect their health, I thought it might be beneficial to get some insights into behavioral sciences.”

“But do you enjoy it?”

Maki wondered what her mother wanted her to say. The most honest answer would be ‘not as much as music, but I know I’m expected to pick some scientific major to become the latest Dr. Nishikino in the long line of doctoring Nishikinos’. But this was only her freshman year, Maki still had a few quarters to play the piano, take a music composition class occasionally and dabble her way through sciences until one of them called to her like music -- or the moon.

“I’ll probably take my stats class next quarter and knock off a Distribution requirement in Anthropology. I think there’s an ethnomusicology one being offered.”

“Sounds like you have a plan.”

Maki yawned, starting to feel the run in her muscles, “I’m going to take a hot shower.”

“Good night, Maki.” Her mother smiled fondly as her daughter slowly rose from the couch. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Nico hadn’t run into any obstacles, furry or otherwise, on her way to rehearsal this afternoon. She wasn’t on the call sheet, but she wanted to get a feel for the production and today, they were working on the choreography for the Jonathan Harker and the Three Sisters big confrontation scene. Micah Ling, the actor playing her character’s fiancee, Harker, was a friend of Nico’s. They’d been in a few ensembles together.

Nico recognized a certain dark haired woman lurking in the back row and slid next to her, voice an admonitory whisper, “You can’t just come to rehearsals to ogle the dancers, Nozomi.”

Nozomi raised an eyebrow and put on the sweet smile that had never once tricked Nico about the depths of dark truths Nozomi was willing to push, “You’re here as well, Nico-chi.”

Nico slouched in her seat, smugly confident, “Micah invited me. We’re helping each other.” Nico tapped the armrest between her and Nozomi to make sure she had the green eyed gossip’s attention, “I’m mostly here to pick up tips on how the dancers express being under Dracula’s thrall.”

“Thrall....” Nozomi drawled.

“Thrall.” Nico countered, decisively.

Nozomi giggled, “Oh, Nico-chi, you’re so amusing.”

Nico shrugged, watching the three women on stage weave around Micah, wondering which one Nozomi was here stalking. As far as she could tell, Nozomi didn’t have a type, unless it were easily embarrassed so Nozomi could have as much fun as possible teasing them. Nico had had to intervene when Nozomi had gone to far with Umi one night and now if she wanted to see Nozomi, Nico went to her place. Umi had a long memory.

“Speaking of ogling, how’s your new friend, Nico-chi?” Nozomi’s voice had her usual mocking undertone.

Nico was paying close attention to the dancers so her reply was matter of fact. “Princess? She ended up at Cup o’ last night, but I still haven’t met her owner. Just two goofy girls who might know the owner.”

Nozomi turned around in her seat, “You really did meet a dog?”

Nico chuckled, “And she is a pretty redhead.”

Nozomi stared at Nico, genuinely puzzled, and then the tallest dancer, a lithe blonde crawled to the front of the stage, her movements long, slow and seductive, and Nico smirked at how fast her friend dropped their conversation. Crush mystery solved. Cue Nico’s chance to bait.

“I didn’t know you liked blondes, Nozo?”

Nozomi hissed out of the side of her mouth at Nico, hand gripping the armrest, “Her name’s Eli, she’s in my Economics of Gender class and she never gets a question wrong.”

Obviously not the crush of just a moment so Nico let herself get absorbed in the action happening onstage. How did one cue the audience to ‘under vampiric thrall?”

Maki had to eat lunch, she was starved and the dorm cafeteria was the closest but that meant Rin. Maybe if she just grabbed some cereal and ran, she could avoid her intrusive, seemingly caring friend.

Nope. Maki set foot on the stairs leading to the dorm and she felt someone grab her in a hug. Rin.

“Maki Maki Maki. Your barista is so cute.” Rin shouted.

Maki pried Rin off, “Shut it, Rin. She’s not my barista. We’re not even friends. She’s just interesting. A little.”

“I bet Princess wants Nico to take her for a walk.” Rin pushed Maki into the line.

“What, like Hanayo does with you?” But Maki’s attempt at withering scorn was ruined when Rin nodded eagerly, excited by the idea.

“Rin and Maki can play and Nico and Kayochin can talk. It’d be awesome.”

Maki groaned. Needling Rin about how she behaved around Hanayo never had any traction. They just orbited each other in a state of mutual adoration that deflected any harassment or criticism by others. But Rin wouldn’t understand ‘discreet.’ Maki stopped and dragged Rin out of line, letting her eyes go full werewolf glow green to impress upon Rin the seriousness of her next statement, “Nico can never know about us, Rin.”

“But…” Rin’s green eyes dimmed.

“Never.”

“She seems nice.” Rin pleaded as Maki’s grip on her arm tightened enough to bruise.

“Rin.” Maki snarled again, loud enough to draw attention, eyes commanding agreement from Rin.

“Okay, Maki.” Rin hung her head, and looked so sad Maki was sure Rin understood the gravity of the situation. “But Rin was excited about a new friend.”

Maki’s tried to make her voice soothing as she released Rin, “Friend, yes, but you know we can’t trust just anyone.”

Rin nodded and Maki felt a surge of empathy. Rin was so close to her animal side that it was hard for the smaller girl to hide it. Without Hanayo, Maki didn’t know what Rin would do. The other two girls had met in elementary school. Hanayo had witnessed Rin transform at the age of 5 and been by her side ever since. Maki wondered what it would be like to have someone she could rely on like that in her life.

“Let’s get lunch,” Maki pushed Rin back toward the line.

Lunch, check. No class for another hour. Maki would have to remember to reserve a practice room for afternoons like this. Rin had gone off to her classes; Hanayo had an appointment with her advisor. The snow on the Lakefill was still fresh and relatively crisp to walk through...Maki had fun jumping into larger drifts, dragging her boots through and enjoying the sun as she drifted in the direction of Norris.

Nico...musk, peach, vanilla, magic, coffee, so close...just left Norris? Maki felt herself drawn in that direction and pushed through a snowbank, only to trip over a student veering into her path. Maki stumbled forward and realized a surprised Nico was practically in her arms, also suddenly aware that she’d caused Nico’s coffee to spill. Now Maki’s fisherman’s sweater had coffee beading off it.

Nico’s voice snapped, “So you drink coffee but you don’t want anyone else to?”

Maki was still thrown off by the sudden appearance of Nico and found herself muttering an indecipherable excuse as the shorter woman, enveloped in a voluminous white quilted parka, brushed some of the liquid off Maki’s sweater with a pink mittened hand.

Nico laughed, “Nico is kidding, Maki, student, coffee, black, fancy mansion, serious sweater. But you do owe Nico a coffee now.”

Maki met Nico’s eyes, the smaller woman gleamed at her and reached out to yank her back Norris-ward. “Ok.” Maki managed to squeak out.

“Enthusiasm, I like that.” Nico kept towing and teasing as Maki found herself tripping along.

Get it together, Nishikino, she told herself, ask a question, “Do you have a class, N...N...Nico?”

“No. Music rehearsal later for the play later. Nico stopped by to watch one of the other scenes and think about how to play someone under a thrall.”

Thrall? Maki wondered what exactly the play was about? Werewolf form wasn’t the best for retaining details and nuances, but Maki couldn’t remember if Nico had said what she was doing.

“Thrall?” Maki stepped ahead to open the student center door for Nico who nodded gratefully as she swept past.

“Didn’t I tell you? Oh, I hadn’t gotten the part yet, that night. Dracula bites Nico and Nico is in a trance.”

“Bites?” Nico kept rushing through words and Maki found herself getting a bit dizzy from the storyboard of visuals her brain was creating as she struggled to keep up with Nico’s trajectory toward the Dunkin Donuts counter.

“Oh, no actual biting. Or fluid exchange. Nico is very careful.” Nico glanced speculatively at Maki, “Nico skipped the donut last time.”

Maki pulled out her wallet and ordered, “Two coffees and two donuts, one, toasted coconut, one…?” She turned to Nico.

“Strawberry frosted please. And make my coffee a medium in a large cup.”

Maki watched the server put a very pink donut on a napkin. “Nothing should be that pink.”

“Nico is that pink.”

“On the inside, yes, after eating that.” Maki moved to a table at the window looking out over the Lakefill. “Like a mutant.”

Nico snorted as she slid across from Maki, “Nico is 100% Cute Girl ™ .”

Maki took a bite of her donut, watching as Nico poured creamer into her coffee, lots of creamer. That explained the larger cup. “Do you even like coffee?”

“Shush, serious sweater girl. Nico is a professional and knows what she’s doing.” And Nico winked. Then they both started sipping their coffee, with Maki yelping at the heat on her lip. She refused Nico’s offer of creamer to dilute the coffee, but did hold the chilled metal container against her lip.

“That’s embarrassing. And unhygienic.” Nico chided.

Maki let her eyes go wide, “But it hurts.”

“There we go with the pouty puppy eyes. Now I really recognize you.” Nico stole a chunk of Maki’s donut. “So do you have a class soon?”

“Probably in a half hour. Freshman seminar.”

“Oh, WCAS.”

“Yep.” Maki put down the creamer and tried her coffee again. Drinkable.

“Nico is a theatre major.”

“Northwestern’s a good school for it.” Maki remembered hearing that sometime.

“Exactly. The only one.” Nico slammed her coffee cup down, “Nico was expecting to be in LA by now, but Fangs is the opportunity Nico was waiting for.”

“F...fangs…” Maki spit her coffee out and Nico grabbed a napkin to clean the table between them, frowning.

“Fangs...the play Nico is starring in. Don’t you pay attention to what’s going on on campus?”

“No.” Maki said flatly, amused by how Nico’s mouth dropped open.

Nico made a fairly random and highly amusing exasperated noise, Maki couldn’t help grinning, canine tooth peeking out. Nico glowered at her audience’s disrespect. “Nico has to run but stop by Cup o’ tomorrow night and Nico will explain the variety of arts this campus offers.” Nico pfffffed, her cheeks puffed out. “Freshmen.”

“Maybe.” Maki winked, Nico shook her head, corner of her mouth almost quirked into a smile.

“Thanks for the donut, Maki.” Nico air kissed and ran off, leaving Maki with half a coconut crusted donut she didn’t actually want to eat. Fangs. Vampire. Nico. More visuals to process.

A/N I like terrible puns. Share some (ʃƪ¬‿¬)

Casual Lunacy is now officially set at my alma mater, since I don't have time to research or make up another college, but it is definitely an AU Northwestern,as I haven't been back in awhile. Theatre department details are mostly my invention as I spent most of my time between Lakefill, library and books related to Shakespeare, Poe and whatever I was researching outside of classes any particular quarter.

Thanks for reading and for those of you who might miss her, Princess is eager for her return.

Comments lacking puns or poetry are also gladly accepted d(-_^)

#nicomaki #love live #fanfic #yazawa nico #nishikino maki #Casual Lunacy #Go U Northwestern #werewolf

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taneyhana · 5 years

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It Matters How This Ends || Combination Head Canon and Manes Dream Para || July 20th to July 29th

I will leave my heart at the door I won’t say a word They’ve all been said before, you know So why don’t we just play pretend Like we’re not scared of what is coming next Or scared of having nothing left Look, don’t get me wrong I know there is no tomorrow All I ask is If this is my last night with you Hold me like I’m more than just a friend Give me a memory I can use Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do It matters how this ends

Let this be our lesson in love Let this be the way we remember us I don’t wanna be cruel or vicious And I ain’t asking for forgiveness

Everything seemed to be falling apart around Taney. It was like watching old wallpaper flake off a wall. Then, as she tried to keep herself together, she felt like the harder she tried to grip reality it dissolved like ash in her hands. Her happiness had been wholly reliant on a few things, and even those seemed to drip through her fingers. For the last six or so months, Taney had devoted about ten hours a week to yoga and meditation. It was how she had weened herself off the cocktail of medications her quack-doctors had put her on and it was a large factor of her depression. Then there was Lucas and Wednesday. Between the two of them her life had mean. Lucas was her best friend and confidant, Wednesday a reason to keep waking up and moving. Together they had encouraged her to progress healthily.

As the twenty-seventh approached, however, Taney was without both of them for a short window. Axel had vanished and Lucas was rightfully worried about him. Taney took that time to keep her focus on Lucas and keeping him de-stressed and happy. Meeting his needs kept her mind off her own chaos. As time ticked on, she tried to focus on when she’d have Wednesday again, the twenty-fourth, rather than the absence of her daughter. The latter task was easier said than done as Maverick plastered his relationship with Lilja on the network. His words made her bleed, time and again.

He’d sworn he’d never get married again, she swore she’d never get married in the first place… then they’d eloped. He’d sworn he was too old to be a parent and Taney had long since accepted that the array of medical issues she’d had made her chances of being a mother something needing a miracle… then they adopted Wednesday. He’d agreed to love her until they died and now she was alone in loving him. So, when he couldn’t accept her relationship with Lucas and they parted ways and he’d insisted he’d be alone forever a deeper part of her hoped that those words were true and that she would be someone of value to someone. The other part of her deeper than that doubted that it would happen, that it would be another thing that he went back on. Sure enough he had reneged on that too.

Lilja was extremely different than Taney. Taney was genuinely happy for Maverick to have found happiness again and with someone that wouldn’t bring up the slightest chance of an associations with her. However, the constant push and pull from him regarding Taney’s attempts at being nice had made even that little bit of happiness turn sour. In six months she had listened to attacks on Lucas, belittling of her character and motives, and what seemed to be intentional mind games in some sort of sick attempt at making her sick. She questioned everything every time they talk and she was tired of trying to keep score of the good parts of him and his ugly side.

Taney loved Maverick. Despite the spiraling of their relationship that had not changed. Despite the blood and tears, he was the person that had shown her that she could find things she wasn’t looking for. Every night when she laid down to go to sleep since she’d realized she loved him she felt lucky for knowing that she was capable of doing something that was in her own realm of impossible. In her fuckedupness she had not considered Maverick wanting that for just himself. Now it didn’t matter, that endless fight over what the parameters of her emotions and sex life should be in an open relationship had long since come to an end.

Signing a piece of paper didn’t stop her from loving him. It wouldn’t stop her from missing him. It wouldn’t stop her from questioning if leaving him instead of Lucas was the right choice. Sometimes Taney thought she should have stayed. Her thoughts would pull back to her last mental breakdown in front of him, the grabbing on his part and how she fell through one of her many mental rabbit holes. Taney thought that if she’d walked one way instead of another that they would have worked through their problems, no more silence or violence. Excuses for him were made. Blame was easy for her to place on herself. It was Lucas that reminded her of the bruises and gaslighting. Still, she loved him…even when she hated him she loved him.

As the twenty-seventh approached, Taney tried to define and understand that love. Her mind was always most clear in her first tattoo session. She did her yoga in the morning before work and let her mind wind up and pour out as the needle hummed like a bird against her client’s skin. It was a fruitless chore, trying to understand her relationship with Maverick. It always left her with lingering questions. With a heavy feeling of failure she would trudge back to Flex Appeal after work and clear her head again. It felt like a true physical weight to still love her husband so much when it was all about to end. Marching to the end of that road felt like walks in a dark clouded room wouldn’t stop crowding in on her.

No one at Flex Appeal seemed to notice Taney’s stress, anxiety, or depression. Most of the instructors that knew the state she was in when she started saw the big-picture progress and not the small steps back. The few instructors she was sleeping with thought she was just being more playful than usual. It was amazing in a way, how little people noticed. She was shocked that a person so desensitized to emotion had become overtaken by them and the world was now desensitized to her having them. So, she put on a face and kept it on because she was determined to not let her sadness rub off on anyone.

It was the first time in her life she had been so fake. Taney could remember some points in her childhood where she’d been fake. Funnily enough, on the compound when she put on a face it had been to make herself cry to get some attention from her father. With countless children from a dozen wives, Taney was a mere number floating through a sea of prettier, smarter, and funnier children. She remembered being happy there, particularly with her half-sister Whitney. Beaten by life, that happiness would end with years of pain and running. It made her cold and blunt.

Being fake for Taney, until this point in her life, had been putting on makeup and playing pretend, usually in a sexual way. As she logged in to the network she flirted half-heartedly. Taney put on fake smiles and made fake jokes. She forced herself out of the house to drink and fuck, but her heart wasn’t in it. It was all an act to keep her preoccupied and her head to busy to think of the voices that would tear her apart as soon as time stopped. However, time always did stop at night when she was alone and until Axel came back she was lucky enough to be able to avoid even that.

Taney was so filled with self-loathing she couldn’t even look in the mirror. If she got out of the shower she let the fog sit there. In a way the blurred smokey shadow was her true visage. The weight of regret would be painted over through a smaller lens of a compact as her life moved closer to that day. She painted on the eyeliner, covered the bags under her eyes, and rolled on lipstick. Nothing seemed out of place because she was, in a way, just as scary as she had ever been. Others that knew her and didn’t recognize the woman in front of them took it as business, motherhood, or… and at its worst….that the fake smile was real and a representation of her happiness at the nearing end of a tumultuous relationship.

So many people at kINK knew Lucas. He was a client, true. He was the guy Taney talked about the most and the one she was going home to a lot these days. When she said she was going to her happy place, home to Lucas, she meant it. His mom had welcomed Taney into their family and now Wednesday too. It was the first time she felt that things didn’t have to be so tiring and lonely. The road didn’t feel like it was forking. The sky didn’t always feel like a dark and starless night. Cheesy as all that was, she was finding peace…or so she thought.

Whitney, her sister, had hung around more as the divorce date approached. At first she was just doing her usual routine of picking up and dropping off Wednesday on her way to work. Then it became lunch break visits. Whit soon added texts of pictures of Wednesday in daycare at CC West to the mix. Taney knew what she was doing, trying to keep her positive. It worked a little until Luke left to help Axel.

Axel needed Lucas. Taney knew that they were best friends, practically brothers. She didn’t to interfere with whatever was going on with Axel. After all, Axel had been the only reason she’d had a decent lawyer and wouldn’t lose custody of her daughter. She owed so much to Axel and she knew a mere thank you wasn’t enough. He’d pushed her away a few months ago and they hadn’t talked, but whenever Lucas worried about him she made sure to shoo Lucas off to check on him. It was the right thing to do for Axel, but it didn’t change that it left her alone at night, when the depression came in to crush her.

When Taney picked up Wednesday at CC West on the twenty-fourth she hugged her extra-tightly. Winnie wasn’t going to spend the next few days at Taney’s. She’d taken off work and Whitney had too. Winnie would stay with her aunt until after the divorce’s finalization so that Taney could focus on her meetings with her lawyer and preparing for any possible issues. Despite trying to listen to her lawyer’s tone of confidence she didn’t feel like she knew Maverick and that meant that she was terrified about what he would do.

With Lucas at Axel’s and Taney at home, she kept busy cleaning and re-reading paperwork. If that wasn’t enough to keep her mind busy she went out. Isabel and Tanes got drinks. It was a relief to listen to someone else’s problems. Then she and Emmett went for smokes and whiskey, the laughing and swearing was nostalgic to a pre-Los Angeles version of herself that was more authentic than Emmett knew. Then Keila came over to talk and eat. Keila, or Maahsy as Tanes affectionately called her, was like a sister to Taney. It was more than a distraction talking to Keila. It was constructively working through her friends problems that felt like real progress.

Still, when she thought about what Maverick could say or do she was terrified. Would he, at the last minute, change his mind about their custody arrangement? If he dragged her through the court systems would Axel keep paying for her lawyer? Would her medical history and sordid past be brought up? Taney wanted to say that Maverick was fair, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know the man that ignored her across a waiting room. She didn’t know the man that stared at her coldly across a kitchen or coffee shop’s table. She didn’t know the man that dug at the parts of her they was theirs. That was, to her all that was being left as the divorce process went through.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she looked over the balcony of the loft and down on the entryway and kitchen below. She couldn’t think of how they ended up there. Peeling off her clothes, Taney left them in a pile on the floor rather than chucking them into the hamper. Passing the wicker basket on her way to the closet, She looked at all the things she could wear. It was a small and mostly colorless arrangement. In the back, however, was one long gown, delicately wrapped up. It wasn’t her dress, not technically, but it was the dress.

Taney pulled out the white dress that Whitney had loaned her for their wedding in the courthouse. It was as pristine as ever. She pressed the fabric to her face and inhaled. The faint smell of either Maverick or the place she had once called home seemed to still be saturated in the places he’d held her. She dragged the heavy garment to the mirror and held it in front of herself. Truthfully, Taney couldn’t place the woman she was to the woman she had been at that time. Now she was physically healthier that she had ever been. Emotionally, however, there were new scars and uncertainties that had shaped her into an unrecognizable creature.

The longer she stood there, looking in the mirror for the first time in a week or so, the more anxious she grew. Her wedding dress slipped through her thin fingers and cascaded to the floor. Taney’s chest tightened with the weight of an incoming panic attack. Try as she may to blink away the familiar burn of oncoming tears and stinging lungs, it wouldn’t let up. She tried to be strong, to look at that unfamiliar face in the mirror and tell herself that she was stronger than the person she had become. She tried, and failed, to reassure herself like Lucas could. Her gaze fell from her own eyes to her slender frame and the ink that pained her porcelain skin. There he was, etched into her existence covering scars. The woman’s thin fingers brushed across the watercolor lion on her side and immediately tears streamed down her face.

She had to wonder if the stabbing had been some kind of omen that she should have left him. Looking back on their relationship she now felt more than ever that she had brought him nothing but pain and suffering. It wasn’t like he hadn’t flat out told her how badly she’d ruined his life either. As her sides burned from the pain of her panic attack and she gasped for air, every fight seemed to replay with vengeance in her mind. Her fingers pressed and dug into the tattoo. A part of her wished that she could claw it off, as if the action could rid her of her unrequited love for him…The other part of her, however, simply wanted to be closer to him. The mere thought that ink was as close to him as she would ever be again led to an even heavier bout of crying.

At some point she’d collapsed into the pile of the white dress on the ground. Choking and crying she kicked it away, backing up across the loft’s room until her back was against the half-wall that looked down. She looked through the glass and, again, her bickering mind seemed to be in that place of chaos between self destruction and lucidity. Her thoughts danced between throwing herself over and how stupid it would be to kill herself over someone that neither knew nor loved her. She tried to cling to the reasons not to do it, the simplest reason being that it most likely wouldn’t kill her, and then moved to simply counting out her breaths until she calmed herself.

Knowing full well that Luke was busy and that Taney didn’t want Whitney to come over and help her when she had Wednesday, Taney became all to aware of how few people she had in her life to take care of her. Keila would have come, but Taney knew she was grieving in her own right. Genaya and Taney always found means of distraction, but Taney didn’t want to drag her into more of the mess of the divorce than she already had. One by one, Taney crossed off the list of her ‘friends’ and made her way downstairs to the kitchen where her phone was docked on its charger. Picking it up off the cold marble she looked at the time, the blank screen, and felt more alone than she had upstairs naked with a stranger in a mirror and that wedding dress.

Leaving the phone on the counter, Taney fell onto the couch and turned on the television. Everything seemed to remind her of Maverick or their relationship, so she rolled onto her back and shut her eyes. Her mind ticked away at how this was the last day of their marriage and how low of a note it would be ending on. She felt heavy and almost sick thinking about how wrong it had gone and instead tried to recall some of their happier moments. As they played over in her head, the sound of his laugh, his smile when she woke him up with her mouth trailing down his body, the way his body wash filled up the smell of the bathroom, she felt at peace.

Almost as quickly as that sensation of peace sank in she felt jolted out of her dream. She tried to remember it, whatever it was that had made her feel better. It didn’t seem to matter now, as she trudged back to the kitchen. Glancing at her phone she saw the texts and missed calls from Maverick, but there wasn’t a notification of a voicemail. Here it was, she thought, the last day as his wife and after months of not wanting shit to do with me he calls

Taney wanted to be mad at him, she tried to stay mad by refusing to open the texts. As she went upstairs to get dressed and brush her teeth scenarios started to play through her mind. What if, a freakishly uncommon optimistic voice chimed in, What if he doesn’t want the divorce? What if he’s ready to accept the open marriage if that means he doesn’t have to lose you? She shoved the thought away, calling it ludicrous bullshit as she rinsed off her toothbrush and moved to the closet. There another voice found her, one she had heard far more often, Just go see him and see what he wants. It’s not like it’s about Wednesday. She’s safe with your sister. Go see him, Tanes, it might be your last chance. That voice seemed far more logical as she pulled on a tight dark wash jeans, a MuteMath shirt, and her leather jacket.

Maybe she hadn’t realized what she was doing, that she’d listened to one of the voices. There she was, on her bike, riding the familiar route to the house she’d called home. Every light was green and she tried not to take that as a sign that she was making the right choice. The next thing she knew she was at his door, panicking. What could she say to explain turning up there? What if he had called her on accident and the text she had refused to read was just him saying it was a butt-dial, the second then being a question about Wednesday. She felt like and idiot and began to think about turning back, but her hand went to the doorbell as if possessed.

With no way out, Taney thought up a new horror: What if Lilja opened the door? It was still a raw subject, knowing that Wednesday would have a second mom that was a hands-down better person than her. Turning on her heels she took the first step back to her bike, muttering under her breath that this had been a bad idea. A hand reached out and pulled her back to the door. Turning around nervously she realized it was Maverick. She was about to apologize when she realized he wasn’t letting go of her hand. “When you didn’t call back I didn’t think you would come.”

Putting up her guard she looked into his blue eyes and tried to read what those words meant. “I didn’t read them. The texts, I mean… I saw them, but I didn’t open them.” Her confession wasn’t defensive, but it seemed to be the only thing she could say as she tried to be brave. “I should go.”

“Wait,” he pulled her closer. It was gentle, which completely surprised her. Taney swallowed nervously, but was surprised that there was no stinging pain where their skin came in contact with eachother. She wanted to tell him to stay where he was. A part of her was genuinely afraid of what mistakes would be made if he closed any more space between them. Maverick, however, tried to change her mind with ‘please stay’s and she wondered if something really had changed.

Taney had underestimated her ability to resist him for his own protection and followed him in. As she stepped into the familiar house she tried to be brave as she saw the new paint on the walls covering what had once been a loving paint war. Then there were the pictures of his new family. As she felt the walls close in on her she realized just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t be the person that had casual conversations with a person she missed to the point of breathlessness. “I really have to get out of here. I shouldn’t have come.”

It had been her fifth or sixth protest and as she feared the nothingness that awaited her outside the front door, Taney shut her eyes and tried to turn around and leave. His familiar firm hands took hold of her, one wrapped around her thin waist and the other tilted up her chin. There was an eternity and then no time at all between him holding her and their lips meeting. Her heart raced, but she couldn’t ignore her walls crumbling down as that buried love for him finally received what it had begged for every second of every day since she had come back from England.

At some point he had picked her feet up off the floor as they kissed and they’d wrapped around his waist in the familiar ways they used to greet each other. Between kisses she whispered she loved him and she was certain she heard him say it too as he carried her upstairs to their room. As different as the rooms had looked just moments ago, Taney now wondered if it had just been that she’d simply forgotten the details of the place. Before she could thing about it Maverick had collapsed onto their bed and she looked down at him. A part of her told her not to do it, that she’d asked for this and he’d flatly laughed it off. Another told her that he was too logical to do this without being okay with it. So, Taney hoped that maybe something had changed and that this wouldn’t be a mistake.

The entire day seemed to move slow, like a movie montage. His fingers silently undressed her. His lips rediscovered her skin. When he was ready he rolled her over and reclaimed his wife, slow, deep, and full of love. Their fingers tangled in each other’s hair. The only music was their own panting and moans of pleasure, a symphony of the headboard hitting the wall. Then, as he emptied himself deep within her and the moonlight glimmered into the room, kissing him in places she’d been marking with her lips, teeth, and nails all day, she realized just how different he looked.

It was the realization that he didn’t have all of his scars and tattoos that her chest tightened with panic once more. It was like the world quickly began to shatter. No amount of I love you’s or begging to never leave could stop him from going away, fluttering away like ash. As she reached out and called his name she shot upright, her eyes wide open. Surrounded by the white cloth of her wedding dress, the sunlight pouring in stung her eyes. Taney curled up, sobbing on the floor, her small hands hitting the ground until she couldn’t feel the pain in her chest, only the pain in her wrists and hands.

Eventually she couldn’t cry any more and her body was shivering with cold. She clumsily moved to the kitchen, picking up her phone and sifting through old notifications, as there were no new ones, for anything from Maverick. When there was nothing she wrapped her arms tightly around her sides, her fingernails digging into her skin as she tried to gauge the reality. When she felt the stickiness of blood on the tips of her fingers she quickly rinsed her hands off in the sink and splashed water on her face. The voices were screaming a million commands but she reached with shaky hands for her phone to call Lucas.

As her wet fingers dripped on the screen she felt the guilt of calling him for a dream when he was taking care of his best friend and no one was taking care of him. Taney pulled out the small trash can under the sink and moved to the utensils’ drawer. Her fingers moved slowly over the blades of the knives and then she scooped them up and dropped them in the bin. She shoved it back under the sink and went back upstairs to go grab her razors and get dressed to take it all to the dumpster. As she stood in the closet she saw the same dark wash jeans and shirt on top of her clothes. She reached for them, pulling them on as she felt herself making a decision, to go to Maverick and talk ….to really ask if they were making the right decision.

While she moved downstairs with everything in her hands that she knew she couldn’t be left alone with she made a some semblance of a speech in her head. She wanted to ask him if it was really over and if he wanted to really give up on them. Taney wanted to tell him she’d changed. Taney wanted to tell him they could be what they needed and still be happy with other people too. Honesty was all she wanted from him, to give him, and she didn’t want to end their marriage without him knowing how much she still loved him.

Throwing everything into the dumpster she thought about how fair all of that was to Lucas and Lilja, and to Wednesday if it didn’t work again. She couldn’t justify anyone being in a relationship with her and as she shut the door to her apartment she slid down the door, throwing the small trash can across the room. No one needed her and she was finally admitting that she wanted to be needed. Torn between trying to control her emotions and the overwhelming self-loathing, Taney pushed herself up of the floor before she could cry herself to sleep again. Here it was, the last full day of their marriage and she wasn’t trying to spend it crying.

This was it, she thought as she dragged herself upstairs, Lucas had found his moment to step out. He could focus on Axel and put distance between them because there wasn’t a chase if she wasn’t married. Maverick had long since moved on, she cried as she pulled the duvet of the bed and dragged it into the bathroom. Tragically, even as she thought it she still couldn’t fully accept it… despite knowing it wasn’t her place to have an opinion. Wrapping herself up she climbed into the tub and fell asleep in the small space, withdrawn from the world. She didn’t know what would wait for her on the other side of the twenty-seventh. Taney couldn’t bring herself to think about it, but she refused to leave the bathroom and let herself run to Maverick begging and groveling.

When she fell asleep this time there were no dreams and when she woke up she was short on time to get to their meeting. Her appearance was only as put together as it had to be, though days of crying were still noticeable under the light layer of makeup. Again, they shared no words or gazes and when it was mentioned again that it was the easiest divorce the lawyers had handled Taney quickly blew through the tabs needing signatures, stood up, and asked if there was anything else they needed from her. What may have looked like pride was the final collapse of a woman who had once been a mountain and now struggled to understand basic breathing.

If anything the breakdown was made worse by being forced to have to stay in Los Angeles. She kept her fake face on for the people that offered to occupy her time. Still, at the end of the night she was up and forced to see comments about her child on the network, forced to witness petty stupidity, and it all seemed meaningless. Her phone had long since died and her laptop was left on her bed after a few more disgustingly happy smiles. With no appointments at her job until the first and Luke busy with Axel, though she still felt like he might leave too, she stayed in the bathroom as some kind of blanket burrito warrior trying to kill the voices in her head. Whitney checked in on her lunch breaks while Wednesday was in daycare and eventually she managed to fake it enough to get back to work and enjoy her Saturday with her daughter before handing her back to her now ex-husband as if it was a final seal on her fate.

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