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antipsichotic · 1 year

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Even If; Chapter 2: Obsidian Terror

Chatper 2 of Even If, a whump fic starring two of my OCs + my custom written antisepticeye.

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER (1)]

Content Warning: needle, blood, creepy whumper, tranquilizer, cell

Word count; 2,132

This is not a roleplay starter or thread. Please do not respond to it as such. Minors Do Not Interact. Other reblogs and comments are welcome.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been out. It felt like such a long time. Swimming around in his own head, unable to find the ladder with which to pull himself out. His hands and feet were starting to prune up, and his ability to stay above the water was growing more difficult by the second. Minute? Hour? He couldn't tell.

After what felt like days, even weeks, Wrynn's consciousness began to return. The cool water faded, and his head grew heavy with what could've been rocks, placed directly into his skull. It ached and pulsated, the pangs running behind his eyes, which struggled to open. His eyelids felt heavy, and he was only able to open them in a squint. Wrynn blinked in an attempt to brush out the grime in his lashes, although it didn't help.

As he awakened more, he began to notice his physical condition. Wrynn was unable to move his hands, evidenced by the way they did not respond when he tried to wipe the gunk from his eyes. They were tied behind him, a thick rope entangling his wrists together so tightly his blood circulation was nearly cut off. The pressure in his fingers and palms proved such, the blood piling up in them causing them to warm. He attempted to move his legs, but they were in the same situation as his hands; tied to the chair in a rough, unforgiving knot. Heat developing his his feet and ankles. His shoes must have been removed, too.

Warm. His hands and feet were, but the rest of him was not. Wrynn felt cold air traveling up his arms and legs. Wasn't he wearing pants before he blacked out? Obviously the jacket he'd been wearing was no longer, and the short sleeve shirt beneath it would provide no coverage. But his legs being barren made less sense. He glanced down, and to his surprise, he sat in restraints wearing his boxer shorts.

The rest of him started to shiver. The room was quite cold, and his ears picked up the soft hum of what was most likely an AC unit. He could not see it, though. Wrynn blinked once more, and quickly realized his vision was not botched; he was surrounded in murk, a single dim light hanging above his head. It covered maybe a foot or two in front of him, and he was barely able to look at himself.

The cloud lurking in his mind was more or less clear, and the worry about where he was or what the ever loving fuck happened to him heightened. The last memory he could recall had been of trying to walk himself home after spending the late evening at Robyn's apartment. He remembered the figure at the end of the street, watching it grow, and then.. the prick in his throat.. the words they spoke as he left this plane.

The realization hit Wrynn like a massive bus.

Whoever it was that night had drugged and kidnapped him, and brought him to this dark, cold, silent room and tied him up, leaving him defenseless and clueless.

"Hello!?" Wrynn called out. His voiced echoed closely. The room he was in must've not been very big, and well insulated. No chance of outsiders hearing. Possibly a basement, he finally deducted.

What he was unprepared for, however, was the faint shuffling sound coming from the dark. It was followed by heavy, hard footsteps. Very similar to the ones he heard the night of his abduction. He was so sure-

"Hey!" Wrynn exclaimed. The person grew closer, the light beginning to show on them. "Who the fuck are you?! What's going on?!" He hissed, teeth clenching in unease. His brow furrowed, chest lifting and falling with tension in his muscles. His mind raced, and he absentmindedly struggled against the ropes.

When the person fully entered the light, Wrynn stopped every movement in his body. His eyes fully opened, wide with terror. His jaw fell open ever so slightly, trembling, as he took in the appearance of his captor.

He was a very tall man; 6 feet at a minimum. Forest green fluffy hair sprouted from the top of his head, shaved brown encircling underneath it. His ears were stretched and had tunnels in them, somewhere around a size of 12mm. Eyes solid black, as if he had balls of obsidian in his eye sockets. Lips turned into a nauseating smile. A slash across his throat- could someone survive such a gash? His skin was deathly pale, as though he were a walking corpse. With a previous injury to that extent, he could be..

His voice was no more pleasant than his voice.

"Hello, Sweet Prince." Anti's disgusting growly voice hummed, head twisting to the side. He made eye contact with Wrynn, who sat unmoving. His jaw came to a close, though he was still unable to respond.

"Struck silent, hm?" Anti purred, beginning a leisurely stroll around his bound prey. "I would be, in your position." Wrynn attempted to follow him with his head, though he was soon behind him. This is where he stopped; where Wrynn would not see him.

As he came to a stop right behind him, Wrynn's pulse began ringing in his ears. He jumped when Anti's voice damn near materialized right next to his head.

"I've been looking for you for a very long time, Sweetest.." A shiver fell down Wrynn's spine, his eyes stinging as they grew wet.

"I know your secret." Anti continued on, hot breath a small relief on his icy skin. His voice trickled with a taste of instability.

Could this guy be some sort of mental institute escapee? There had to be some explanation. Something.

"..what?" Wrynn finally managed to croak, his voice small and timid. His eyes were stuck facing forward, for fear of turning and seeing those dark, insanity-driven eyes again. Once more, that familiar hot blanket of dread coated his skin. His shivers were now of panic and freezing. Had it gotten colder?

"Don't act so oblivious." Anti dropped the sweetness of his tone. He walked back around to the front of Wrynn, onyx eyes somehow showing his aggravation, though there was nothing else in them. Wrynn cringed as they infected his line of sight.

His smile had fallen into an annoyed frown.

"I know what you were. What you've been, and what you are now." He hissed. "You may be able to trick everybody else with this foolish disguise," he gestured generally over Wrynn, "..but not me. I can see through you like a glass pane, my Beloved.."

"N-No, you have the wrong guy, I-" Wrynn's protest was cut short by his booming, almost.. glitchy voice?

"DO NOT LIE TO ME!" Anti roared, taking several steps towards him, arm swinging around his torso with an intense force. His fist made contact with Wrynn's cheek, and the chair he was strapped to rattled on the floor, swinging backwards for a moment. The pain was both dull and sharp; the beginnings of a bruise forming on his face, as well as the slices within his mouth from his teeth smashing into the inside.

Wrynn released a whimper, his dampening eyes falling to tears as the pain struck him.

"You will learn," the other huffed, "to not lie to me. Do you understand?" Wrynn could only nod. He winced when Anti gripped his jaw and forced it upward, giving him no choice but to look up to him.

"I will beat manners into you. And then I will not stop." His empty eyes bore into Wrynn's skull like a drill. Tears became a waterfall. "You belong to me now. I will create and mend you into my pet. I will tame you into a submission you never would've dreamed humanly possible." His voice was now right in his ear, grip tightening along the now purpling splotch on his face. Wrynn attempted to shift his head side to side, any attempt to object, but he was met with another smashing blow to his nose.

With another cry out into the world, blood from his nose began to pour down his face, mixing with his flow of tears to create a disgusting combination.

Suddenly, Anti's hand took hold of Wrynn's hair. It dug deep, down to the roots, where he could control his head movement. He jerked his head backwards, and all Wrynn felt was a warm, wet thing slide up his throat and to his chin, where the blood and tears mixture had fallen.

A satisfied growl alongside a giggle escaped Anti, and he kept Wrynn's head tilted all the way back.

"Oh, Sweetest, your blood and tears are like butterfly milk for my heart.." He began to laugh crazily, his grip tightening on Wrynn's hair, if it were possible for it to be any tighter. He released, stepping out of the light. There was the sound of a metal drawer opening, being sifted around in, and then closed once again. Anti turned to return to the frame of light, standing behind Wrynn.

Oh god, oh no.. this is it. He's going to kill me.

With a quick movement, Anti pulled Wrynn's head far to the side, fingers gripped onto his hair follicles. Without hesitation, there was a sudden prick in his throat. It was painful, and as Anti pushed the plunger in pretty quickly, he could feel the contents rush into his vein.

Wrynn anticipated the quick fall to sleep again, awaiting the life in his bones to drain. Anti removed the needle and returned to his table out of sight before Wrynn began to feel anything; once he came back, however, it's effects had started.

He was immobile. He could no longer struggle, or even hold up his head. It flopped to the side, eyes wide open and conscious. This caused his arms to fall as Anti cut the ropes to his wrists, and then each ankle.

His appendages gasped for the air they'd been given. The blood beginning to flow again throughout his body, and the tension living within his hands and feet being given sweet release. They'd slowly developed from blue to red once again, the heat leaving and bringing sweet coolness to them.

But he could not give a sigh of relief. He could not move about with his newfound freedom.

Anti was once again out of the sight of the light for a moment, settling his tools back into place presumably. He returned to his motionless catch, lifting him from the chair in a bridal carry. His head lolled backwards, hanging limply and bouncing with every step Anti took.

He could not tell where he was going. There was no other light; how did Anti know where he was going? Surely he could see no more than Wrynn in this moment. He could not ask.

Then, there was the creaking sound of metal. A brief feeling of falling, and then the sudden clashing of hard concrete against Wrynn's spine and skull. He made a thudding sound as he fell, and although he attempted to groan upon impact, it only came out as a soft hnnngg. His pulse boomed in his head and back, increasing the rate of hot tears flowing down his cheeks.

"I can't risk you trying to escape, my Beloved.." Anti purred from behind the bars, shutting the door to the cell with a loud clink. By the sounds of it, he'd locked it with a key, maybe even several. Wrynn couldn't tell; he couldn't see, much less move.

Anti crouched down beside where Wrynn's head lay, his eyes spaced out into the direction it had fallen. Anti let out a sound, similar to that of a cat purring, in happiness.

"Finally.. after all this time.. you belong to me."

He lingered for a while, before standing once more. Wrynn listened to his firm steps walking away, slowly fading. He heard the softer creak of a door opening, and saw a tinge of light ever so slightly out of his view. It lingered for a moment, and then the steps continued, the door slamming and the light following it.

Wrynn lay, silent, motionless, aching. Every inch of his body wanting to lash out, scream, cry, beg for mercy of any kind of differing level. But there was nothing within him. Silent tears soaked his blood stained shirt, incapable of soothing himself. Shivering with no cover, no protection from the unending cold. Anti's saliva dried onto his throat and chin. Bones crying in agony.

His retinas were burned, the image of those daunting, hollow black eyes sticking into every part of his vision. They danced in the darkness, taunting his frozen body throughout the night, until his mind finally gave in to the exhaustion.

[NEXT CHAPTER (3)]

#even if; chapter 2: obsidian terror #even if #even if chapter 2 #even if chapter two #chapter 2 #chapter two #creepy whumper #whump #whump fic

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ruporas · 1 year

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can’t talk about it

[ID: Black and white comic of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. The comic starts with the sounds "thud, thud, click". Vash, mid-action of peeling an apple, turns to the sound, noticing who it was that entered, and says, "Oh, Wolfwood, you're back." He resumes back to his apple in the next panel as he speaks, "Where'd you go? You snuck out of bed quickly this morning..." Wolfwood's hand then enters the panel, hovering over Vash's cheek and Vash looks up as Wolfwood asks, "Can I?" Vash responds, "Not going to talk about it?" while using a hand to gently hold Wolfwood's hovering hand and presses a kiss to his inner palm.

Vash then gets up fully, setting down the knife down on the table and the apple onto a plate, He leans into Wolfwood as Wolfwood explains, "Had to meet someone. Nothing interesting to talk about." Vash kisses Wolfwood's left cheek and a hand moves to cup his other cheek while muttering, "You're being vague." Wolfwood says neutrally, "If yer really that curious, keep askin'. We can talk about that instead of doing this." Vash leans back and responds, "Let's talk after, since... You look so tired."

The panel pans to a close up of Wolfwood's downcast eyes, bags heavy underneath his eyes. He doesn't allow Vash to sit in that moment for long though, then saying, "Yer not helping, Spikey. Being all slow with it... I could fall asleep right now." He moves his hand to start unclasping Vash's coat, starting from his collar. Vash with red cheeks, responds briskly, "Oh, shut up. I'm worried about you. I can't be worried?"

The final shot shows Wolfwood's back to the viewer while Vash's softened expression can be seen as he holds gently onto the side of Wolfwood's face and a hand firm on his waist. Wolfwood responds, "I'm fine, seriously," pausing for a moment before continuing, "Is it okay to still..?" Vash responds, "Yeah, it's okay."

The next image is a shot from later that night after the previous comic. Vash and Wolfwood are now in bed, half naked. Wolfwood's buries his face into Vash's chest, his arms wrapped around him, while Vash is petting at his hair. Vash reminds him, "Hey. You said we'd talk about it." Wolfwood pauses for a moment before piping up, "In the morning? I'm sleepy." Vash says, "Okay..."

The next two pages start from the morning after. Wolfwood is already fully awake, pulling on his outer jacket as he says to Vash, whos' still bundled in his blankets, "Breakfast is on the table. Make sure to eat it. I'm going to grab some things in town and then we're leavin'. Got it?" Vash says, "Mh." Wolfwood responds, "Good. See ya in a bit." The dialogue starts to shift into Vash's inner thoughts now, as he gets up and eats toast, thinking, "Wait. Weren't we supposed to... talk about it?" The next shot then shows him fully up, meeting Wolfwood in town. He carries a half worried expression with him while Wolfwood slides on his glasses for him. A quick panel shows Wolfwood's tired expression from the night before and quickly juxtaposes with Wolfwood in front of him who's smiling gently, the shades covering his eye bags. Wolfwood asks him, "Still not awake yet?" Vash pauses, his thoughts stirring, thinking, "Oh. I guess I was getting ahead of myself... thinking you owe me that kind of honesty." He smiles at Wolfwood and responds, "I'm awake!" His thoughts continue, "Maybe one day, you'd trust me enough to share your burdens."

The final image shows Wolfwood pulling at Vash's cheek and Vash complains, "Owwwww why..." Wolfwood quickly says, "You were thinking something stupid, right? It's all over yer face." Vash mutters, "Nooo, I wasn't..." END ID]

#vashwood #trigun #trigun maximum #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #Theyre both thoroughly exhausted tired individuals -- vash having to fight this lonely battle for over a hundred years and getting dragged #back into inevitable situation with knives after a 2 years hiatus of being a gunslinger. they both need so much Rest and comfort in this #department... .SIGHS. BUT I JUST THINK ABOUT WOLFWOOD . AND HOW... LITTLE He has existed on no man's land. how majority of his years being #alive is being used as a weapon and to kill when him at his very core is the most giving and selfless individual ever #badlands rumble inspired me a bit but i do think wolfwood gets dragged into occasional tasks from the eye of michael while on his duty of #guiding vash -- or i think that one chapter where we got to see other members of eom -- there's like a clear division within the eom too #i think.... so i figured similarly to vash but not to the same amount -- there are people that look for wolfwood too. but most of the time #it's probably wolfwood that has to look for someone else and take them out. i feel like it happens ever so occasionally.#evidentially these two don't talk enough canonically but they always know how to express things properly to affirm that they're okay #they have the worst time ever sharing burdens - can't willingly burden the other and has neeever asked for help or reprieve in their #desperate situations... vw is a huge case of right person wrong time syndrome so they just. in the time they get to spend together -- even #if romantically - they don't have enough time to heal to get over that kind of hurdle. They've just never asked for help in all the years #they've been alive -- they don't even know how to and its just aughhhsgskg #and well! they don't even need to ask! because they'll be there for each other anyway at the end of the day -- company and presence alone.#ruporas art

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