#i was too scared to have the numbing injection so i just had it yanked out without | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pastelwitchling · 3 years

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Michael couldn’t feel his fingers. Whether that was because of the restraints on his wrists, keeping him pinned to the steel chair, or the yellow pollen Mr. Jones kept pumping into him, he didn’t know and didn’t care.

“They’re sure taking their time,” Max’s evil twin muttered as he paced. Michael looked to his right where Max, restrained and pale, was looking over at Michael’s left where Isobel sat with concern. Isobel, on the other hand, was just glaring at Mr. Jones, the dark circles around her eyes prominent.

“Who’re we supposed to be waiting for?” she demanded. She might’ve sounded a lot more threatening if she didn’t look like she was about to throw up. “Got more psycho friends?”

Michael scoffed, feeling nauseous himself. “Probably Project Shepherd soldiers.”

Mr. Jones stopped and eyed Michael with amusement. “Soldiers. That’s an interesting way to put it. Is that what you call Alex to his face?”

Michael’s heart jumped into his throat despite the heavy thudding. In the corner of his eyes, he could see Max and Isobel’s expressions turn wary, too, but Mr. Jones only smiled like he was glad they had understood.

But it couldn’t be. Alex had told Michael that he would be with Liz at the lab today, helping her with research. Michael had never told him where he was or what he was planning to do, afraid that Alex would insist on coming along to protect him.

“Alex doesn’t know I’m here,” Michael said, the threat evident to his own ears.

“None of them do,” Max thundered.

“Oh,” he tutted, “you underestimate your friends. ‘Specially Manes. That man is clever.”

And Mr. Jones reached into Max’s pocket and pulled out his phone despite Max fighting against his restraints. He touched the screen and the small thing came to life.

“And early!” he smiled. Michael opened his mouth to demand to know what he was planning when he turned the phone to show them.

For a moment, there was nothing but various corners of the caves, dark and empty. Then, to Michael’s horror, Alex came into view. He was alone, his gun up and aimed, ready for an attack.

Michael sat up with a gasp, trembling. Mr. Jones was still watching the footage, smiling. “Y’know how I know this Manes is different from the others? When he found out you were in danger, Michael,” he laughed, “well, he just came running! Which is not an easy feat for someone like him. Get it? ‘Cause he has no leg.”

“Don’t,” Michael breathed, knowing the words sounded like a plea and not caring as he followed Alex on the screen with his eyes. “Don’t touch him, don’t – don’t hurt him.”

Mr. Jones tilted his head at Michael. “You sound scared, brother.”

“Please,” Max said through grit teeth, his veins popping as he fought against the chair. “Please, he has nothing to do with this.”

“Just let him go,” Isobel tried, her wide eyes glancing between Alex on the screen and Mr. Jones. “Please.”

He hummed, taking in their fear, their panic, like refreshing air. “See,” he said serenely, “I wish I could help you. I really wish he had nothing to do with this.” His eyes darkened and his smile tightened. “But that airman has been a thorn in my side since the beginning, and I’m afraid . . . he’s a little too clever for his own good.”

“No,” Michael shook his head, his eyes burning. “Please!”

“So –”

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

Mr. Jones put a hand on the cave wall, and his smile widened. “I’m getting rid of the threat.”

The cave suddenly shook all around them and the siblings’ chairs threatened to topple over, but Michael’s wide, terrified eyes stayed on Alex.

Alex looked around, screamed something incoherent, and the ceiling collapsed.

“NO!” Michael screamed. The screen turned to black for one second, two, three . . .

“Alex,” Michael murmured, every nerve on edge. “Alex . . .”

The screen came back on, and Michael’s world stilled. There, buried under the rocks, was an arm in a pool of blood. Michael couldn’t even see the rest of his airman.

He heard one sharp exhale escape his lips, the rest of his body numb. He was sure his heart was racing, but he felt outside of himself, watching the scene play out before him like the worst nightmare. Because that’s what this was, it was what it had to be. A nightmare. Alex, his Alex, couldn’t be . . . he couldn’t be . . .

Mr. Jones tossed the phone back onto a stunned Max’s lap, Isobel’s eyes filling with tears. He said something about how much easier that was than he thought it’d be, but Michael couldn’t hear him. His jaw clenched so tightly he tasted blood, but he didn’t care.

Alex . . . Alex . . .

The man who’d offered him a safe place after Michael had stolen his guitar, who smiled at him like he thought he was cute, never caring that he lived in his truck and had no family or money, who came back to Michael again and again, hoping for a confession that never came. Michael never told him how much he loved him, how much he wanted him. He never told him that he would’ve stayed for him.

His siblings were trying to call for him, but they sounded like they were underwater.

Alex . . . Alex . . .

Michael screamed, and the cavern shook. Mr. Jones’s smile fell away as he grabbed the wall to keep steady.

“That’s not possible,” he said. “You have the pollen, your powers aren’t supposed to –”

Michael didn’t listen, didn’t care. He had to get out of these restraints, to dig Alex out of the rubble. He was alive, he had to be. But in the end, the pollen he’d been injected with was too much. In the end, Michael couldn’t do more than make the cave shake before the yellow pollen he’d been injected with started to overwhelm him. In the end, when it mattered most, he failed the love of his life.

He hunched over, heaving. A tear fell down the bridge of his nose as his eyes burned, his muscles felt like fire, his bones like lead.

“Alex . . .” he breathed.

Mr. Jones’s grabbed his curls by the roots and roughly yanked his head up. Michael heard Isobel scream and Max curse at Mr. Jones to let his brother go, but Michael was in a haze. He would never see Alex driving into the junkyard again, never see Alex’s smile again, never see Alex’s dark eyes or hear his beautiful voice or touch his soft, warm skin.

“How’d you do that?” Mr. Jones growled viciously in his face. “Your powers shouldn’t have worked at all. HOW’D YOU DO THAT?!”

Suddenly, Mr. Jones screamed, stumbling back. Michael’s eyes, dazed and blurry, looked up to find Alex towering over the psychotic alien, a syringe in hand. Another had already been jabbed into Mr. Jones’s neck.

“A-Alex!” Isobel gasped.

“Liz!” Max called, and Michael vaguely noticed that Liz had run up to Max, undoing his restraints.

But he couldn’t focus on her. Because there he was, his Alex, sticking the other syringe into Mr. Jones’s arm. Mr. Jones flinched violently, his eyes on Alex full of shock and hate as he collapsed. Alex waited to watch him pass out from the pain before he crouched in front of Michael, his hands gentle as he quickly undid the restraints on his ankles and wrists.

Up close, Michael saw that Alex’s jaw, cheeks, lips, and hands were cut into by the rocks, some leaking trails of blood that Alex didn’t seem to notice.

“Alex . . .” he murmured.

“You were supposed to wait!” Liz said to him.

“He was hurting Michael,” Alex said darkly, no remorse or hesitation in his eyes at what he’d done.

“B-But,” Isobel stammered, her teary eyes on Alex, “we – we saw you, your arm –”

“We got a text from Michael’s phone that you guys were here,” Liz explained, “but Alex knew it was a trap right away.”

“You said you needed me,” Alex scoffed as he managed to free Michael’s legs. “Like you would ever admit that.”

“It was his plan,” Liz continued, “all of it. He told me to stay in the shadows while he walked out into the open, and he kept the prosthetic arm and a bag of blood under his jacket.”

“No other way to kill me in a cave than a collapse,” Alex muttered. “It was common sense.”

“And you saw the camera,” Max finished, staring at Liz with narrowed eyes, as if trying to properly see her through all the pollen in his system. “So you hid Alex while he left the decoy.”

Alex nodded, undoing one of Michael’s wrists. They both worked on the last one. “We got here just when the cave started to shake again. It was a little startling, but – ah!”

Alex’s words were cut off as Michael had roughly undone the last restraint and tackled him, clawing up the airman’s chest and wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

“You’re okay,” he breathed, pushing one hand roughly into Alex’s hair, his other running down his back. Tears kept falling down his cheeks and onto Alex’s jacket, but he couldn’t and didn’t care to stop them. “You’re okay.”

The rocky terrain must’ve been hell on Alex’s legs, especially with Michael basically adding on his own weight, but Michael couldn’t pull away.

“I – I thought,” he trembled, holding Alex painfully tight. “Alex. My Alex.”

Alex’s hands came to slowly rest on Michael’s back, his touch more hesitant, as if too surprised to do anything more. Michael clenched his jaw, and cried against Alex’s neck, “Please hold me, baby, please.”

He heard Alex’s soft gasp against his ear, and he hugged Michael back just as tightly. “I’m okay,” he said. “I’m sorry, I – I had to do it, to make him think he’d won. I’m sorry, Guerin. I’m okay.”

Michael buried his face in the crook of Alex’s neck and could not let him go. His vanilla scent was faint but real under the damp stone and metallic smell of blood.

Michael pulled back just enough to hold Alex’s face, using his thumb to brush away a drop of blood that had been making its way down Alex’s cheek, mixing with an escaped tear.

“I’ll patch you up,” he said. “I’ll never let anything hurt you again.”

Alex huffed a weary chuckle. “You’re the one whose been injected with pollen. How about we patch you up first?”

“No,” Michael said immediately, stubbornly, refusing to let go of Alex for a single second. “You’re more important.”

Alex blinked, startled, and shook his head. He pulled Michael in again, and Michael allowed himself to sigh with relief against him. He had the airman’s chest against his own, his racing heart, his warm skin, his beautiful lips.

Max and Isobel and Liz were moving around them, trying to figure out how to carry Mr. Jones out with them. Liz, apparently, had a lot more syringes, just in case. Even Alex was trying to navigate a plan with Michael still in his arms, pressed against him.

Michael couldn’t care about any of it, not with his face in Alex’s neck, his arms around Alex’s waist, his lips against Alex’s collarbone, breathing him in. Michael would never let him go again. Not for anything.

#michael guerin #alex manes #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #michael vlamis #tyler blackburn

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vivalaluciforever · 3 years

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Everybody x Reader - Part Five (Angst Warning)

Third-person pov:

"Barbatos! What do we do!?" half screams Asmo in fear.

Barbatos quickly pushes everybody else out of the room. "OUT! I need to get her out of those wet clothes and wrapped in a blanket. We'll handle it after the fact."

Quickly, and much to your future chagrin, Barbatos takes off your clothes and wipes the frigid water off of your body. Expertly, and with very strong arms, Barbatos wraps your unconscious self up in a thick, soft, and very warm blanket. Rushing as fast as he can, he quickly ties your hair up with a ponytail into a messy bun and wraps a thick towel around your head.

"BEELZEBUB!" yells Barbatos with a cool and commanding tone.

In less than five seconds, Beel is in the room. "Yes?! Do you need something?!"

"Pick her up! Gently now. Pick her up, be extra careful to support her injured head. We're leaving the other three here. We can't wait any longer. She needs a bed, a warm fire in a fireplace, and especially an expert doctor." commands Barbatos.

Beel does as Barbatos says while the butler goes to grab the others. In a matter of seconds, Barbatos casts a teleportation spell and whisks everybody down to the Devildom. Though he doesn't show it, he silently prays that the other three men and that (Y/N) will be safe.

Lucifer's pov:

This little... no. (Y/N) wouldn't want me to cuss, not right now, and I have my pride to uphold. I'll handle this... more adequately in private at the Demon Lord's Castle in the Devildom. Glancing over, I see Mammon and Lord Diavolo land another blow to the captor.

"Enough," I whisper, my voice cold and full of hot fury. "We'll get revenge later... in a more appropriate environment, and with more appropriate... instruments. For now, we need to hurry. The others are at that safe house, the storm has blown in, and (Y/N) needs us."

"Don't think that ya' are off the hook," states Mammon. Then he leans in close in quietly whispers to him. "Because no one... NO one touches MY human. Ya' got another thing comin'. Just you wait till ALL of us get our hands on you."

Lord Diavolo nods his head in furious agreement. Casting a spell, I summon magical chains and entrap the attacker in them. I may or may not have made them burning hot... evident enough by his screams. With a hard flick of my wrist, he is quickly yanked down and into the castle's torture chamber. I smile at the grim thought of all the pain he'll feel. People aren't wrong when they say I'm a sadist, and there's only one thing they don't know. (Y/N) is the only person who gets ALL of my affection... well my brothers get quite a bit too. Oh, he'll pay alright.

"Lucifer's right. We should hurry to the safe house. The others probably need help." states Lord Diavolo.

With that, the three of us rush out and into the storm. Taking off into the sky, the wind grabs us by our wings. It feels like you're getting tugged behind a car by a rope attached to your waist. Using our inhuman strength, we get our wings up and force a path through the growing storm. Lightning's flashing all around us, and we all expertly dodge the lightning while maneuvering the storm's harsh wind changes.

Suddenly I hear a muffled scream. Turning my head, I see Mammon start to fall. Without a second thought, I abandon Lord Diavolo and dive for my brother as he plummets to the ground. Freefall diving, I tuck my wings in tight to my body so that I'll gain more of an arrow impact heading downward.

It's hard to see through the mess of the storm, and the water constantly streams into my eyes from my hair. I only realize how close I am when I see Mammon's wings by my head. He's freefalling, his face contorted in pain, and his wings pointed up above him as they try to stay up. Torpedoing downward, I grab him around his waist and pull him to my chest. I swiftly tuck in his injured wings for him. With a mighty shove of my own wings, I push us back up and through the storm. While doing so, Mammon tucks his head in by my neck and holds on tightly around my waist.

Eventually, the Lord Diavolo land in front of the house and rush inside to check on the others. I, however, carefully carry in Mammon. Looking around, we realize that no one is here.

"Where are they!" Lord Diavolo exclaims in shock.

I let out a deep breath through my nose to calm down. Suddenly Mammon speaks up. "The Devildom. I bet they took (Y/N) there. She probably needed a doctor, so they had little to no other choice. I doubt that Barbatos would leave someone here, especially when they all wanted to help with (Y/N). Admittedly, Barbatos probably needed help."

"I agree. It's our best bet at finding them." I exclaim, nodding my head and still holding Mammon in my arms.

Said demon lets out a heavy sigh catching both of our attentions. "I'm sorry. If I hadn't fallen then we would have been here a lot sooner." Glittering tears prickle at the corners of his eyes.

"Hush, Mammon. Your wings aren't as thick in the middle as ours. It was out of your control that the membrane would split. Everything will be okay little brother. I'll always catch you when you truly need my help." I whisper, probably the first kind words I've told him in years, but he needs it. I know that our brothers have pushed him too far and that (Y/N) is his safety net. Right now he's beyond scared, in pain, and just needs gentle words. "Not much longer now. You'll see her soon. Let's go, Lord Diavolo."

Lord Diavolo agrees with a nod of his head, and we're suddenly yanked back to the Devildom. The world swirls together to form shapes and items as the entrance hall to The Demon Lord's Castle greets us.

Before we can even get our bearings, Asmo rounds the corner and quickly spots the three of us. His eyes widen remarkably, and only then do I realize how bloody and scraped up we are. I didn't even realize my cheek was cut till now. At least the adrenaline got us here. Faster than I think I've ever seen Asmo run, he comes shooting back around the corner with a first aid kit, Levi, and Satan close behind.

"Asmo grab Mammon from Lucifer. Try to calm him down." orders Satan, taking full control of the reins.

Asmo nods and does as told. He holds Mammon's head in his lap and gently rubs his blood-coated fingers through Mammon's wet and snowy locks. Mammon slowly shifts his head and eyes up towards Asmo.

"H-Hey..." he hoarsely coughs.

"Shh, Mammon. Save your energy. She's with the doctor. Everything will be fine. Focus on me." Asmo whispers to Mammon.

I lay back down, my own wings aching from the hard flight. I can vaguely hear Satan ordering Levi around in the background. Definitely got that trait from me, but he'd kill me if he heard me admit it. Slowly, everything sinks in and I close my eyes to get a few moments of much-needed rest.

Third-person pov:

As Asmo continued to calm down Mammon, Satan quickly ordered Levi to get him some of the antiseptic and bandage wraps. Satan quickly makes his way over to Mammon to start in on his wings, until Levi stops him.

"Give him this first. It's a numbing medicine," he states simply.

Swiftly, and with much precision, Satan injects the liquid into his wing and almost immediately Mammon starts to physically relax. While assessing Mammon's condition, Satan quickly realizes that both Lucifer and Lord Diavolo are passed out cold. That cannot be good.

After a couple of minutes of tending to Mammon's wing wound, Satan then turns to Levi. "Levi. You are going to now go and carefully stitch Mammon's wing back together."

"WHAT! I-I-I-I c-can't!" exclaims the bluenette.

Satan shakes his head in impatience. "You have to. Imagine that you are sewing a costume for a convention. Asmo will talk to you and help you stay calm, but you got to do this. It's no different than your cosplay clothes. Hurry Levi."

Levi's eyes suddenly light up and become determined. "O-Okay." With that, his expert hands from years of costuming start to gently stitch the wing back together.

Meanwhile, Satan rushes over to check on Lucifer and Lord Diavolo. His sharp eyes quickly notice bleeding around Lucifer's wings, specifically the base attachment to the shoulders. Taking a surgeon's scissors, Satan carefully cuts Lucifer's shirt off. Then comes the pain of turning him over, but eventually Satan got it figured out. Around the base where the wing connects to the shoulder bones, the poor flesh was torn and bloody. Which, is an obvious indicator of extremely harsh flight conditions. Taking his own needle, Satan quickly stitches the torn flesh back together around the wings.

Then, after further assessing Lucifer's condition. He wraps a thick bandage with medical oils around the, well admittedly more bird part, base of the wings. Delicately, he finishes by wrapping some more gauze around Lucifer's entire top, shoulder to shoulder, to carefully help keep everything in place.

Afterward, Satan rushes over to check on Lord Diavolo, but he seems to just be exhausted. "Levi." Satan states.

Levi keeps his eyes focused on the wing. "Yes?"

"How are you doing?" inquires Satan.

Levi gives his head a little shake. "Fine. The wing will work, but it'll have a scar down it."

"Same with Lucifer's bases. They were so torn up that there will definitely be small scars around the base. As for Lord Diavolo, he is just utterly exhausted like the other two, but unharmed." he responds.

"Uh, guys." pipes in Asmo's smooth voice. "Beel just texted me."

"Is it about (Y/N)!?" the other two exclaim, voices full of worry.

Asmo bobs his head up and down. "He said that the doctor thinks that she will be perfectly fine. The doctor said that her fever is to fight off the cold swim and the rain, she'll be bruised where she was tied for a week at least, and he said that she should bed rest for at bare minimum a week. Other than that, Beel said that she'll be fine."

Their shoulders sag in relief, and Levi finally sets down his own needle. His expression sagging in relief. They all let out silent and breathless laughs.

"We should get these three cleaned up and in bed, but everything will be ok now," exclaims Satan with a tired laugh.

One Week Later - Sorry, these things suck, but I want to finish this chapter. The thing is is that if I continue you'd probably have another thousand words at least.

(Y/N) pov:

Waking up, the moon's tender beams greet my face through the window. A pair of arms pull me back in as I carefully try to escape from their hold.

"Mhm... stay please," whispers Lucifer. His morning voice always gets me. It's so hot!

Who knew that damaged wings mean a whole month in bed. I surely didn't, but even the stubborn, prideful, workaholic of a demon gave in to it. When he explained it out to me it made perfect sense. Since the base of his wings was injured, he would have to stay in his demon form to allow them to heal. The kicker though is that if he stood up the weight of the wings would undo the stitches. So, even the Avatar of Pride was put on bed rest with me.

Suddenly, another hand grabs onto my arms and helps Lucifer to pin me down. "I agree. Please stay." asks the greedy demon.

I gently twist in Lucifer's arms so that my eyes can meet Mammon's tired eyes. He too is on bed rest, because his injury is also on his wing. Like Lucifer, he needs to be fully transformed to heal. If he stands up and even a gust of wind that's too strong for his healing wing hits it, then the wing will re-split open.

As for me, the doctor said another week of mainly bed rest would help, except when you have two laid-up demons who won't let you go and ten other overprotective people. I'm not fully complaining though, it's just when I have bursts of energy that I want to be up and moving around.

"Alright. I'll stay, but only because you two are hurt and way too cute to resist." I said, quickly giving in and sinking into Lucifer's arms. Mammon carefully wraps his arms around the two of us and joins us.

All of a sudden, the door opens and in pours the other ten people mentioned. They come in carrying food and more changes of medical supplies. I'm always more than happy when they come and these two goofballs get checked on. After all, I do worry.

"(Y/N), dear. Sit up." gently ushers Barbatos. I do as told and he sets a tray by my thighs. "There's eggs, biscuits and gravy, and orange juice."

My mouth watered the minute he walked in it smelled so good. "Thanks a ton, Barbatos!" I thank him and quickly dig into the food. It's so good, as usual of course. Barbatos never seems to fail at anything he makes. Meanwhile, he deftly checks and changes Lucifer's and Mammon's bandages.

"(Y/N)? Do you want to go to a little cafe with me today?" inquires Beel. "It would be no more than an hour and I'd carry you if you get too tired."

Smiling, my mouth stuffed with food, I nod my head in affirmation. Of course, though, this leads to a fight about where my attention will be. I do have to give them credit though... it's a quieter fight than normal. Regardless, I think life will resume just fine, and I know I'll spend the rest of my days here. Good, because I can't imagine my life without my precious men.

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katsukikitten · 4 years

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Irritated 9

Short but hey at least I'm writing again.

WARNINGS: 18+ AU, Dark Adult themes, proceed with caution.

"Moving onto the most crucial point of this meeting. Due to the heavy rumors of the reappearance of the league of villains and high end nomus I need the two of you to be in..." But the rest of the conversation is drowned out by the rushing blood in the ash blonde's ears.

Teetering on the back two legs of his chair as his eyes burn holes into that damn emerald mop head who is ever present in his life.

The same dumb ass who asks questions about this meeting.

But he isn't asking the right ones.

Hell everyone seems to be avoiding the elephant in the room as they carry on normal conversation all the while the hot head grows even hotter.

The swirling rage demanding his undivided attention while his ribs echo his heart beat.

Finally he snaps, slamming down the two front legs of his chair, palms hissing as explosions ring out stunning the other two in the room.

The wood at his seat is forever charred, while yours was always neat, easy to forget as they seem to have now.

Hell even Izuku was sitting in your normal seat.

"Oi, how much longer are you two gonna act like nothing is fucking wrong?" He growls, Izuku looks away with flamed cheeks proving Bakugou's theory right.

Izuku was worried too, he was just too scared to ask.

"I don't follow."

"You lying fucker. You *do* follow. When was the last you heard form Y/N?!" He slams his phone on the table when no one answers, "Since she quit right?"

"So that makes it a whole fucking month. No one has seen her, no one has heard from her and her insta is dead." He shoves the phone in their faces. The last picture you posted was of Bakugou and Deku standing next to All Might's cut out.

"She could be on vacation." Yami counters to which Bakugou snorts.

"And she wouldn't want any dumbass pictures of the beach with an even shittier caption?" He hisses, "No paparazzi has seen her?"

"I'm sure she's been spotted."

"Where? All the tabloids question her where abouts."

"Staycation. No one knows where she lives. She was always good at that." Yami counters, nervously sipping at his coffee causing the blonde to grind his teeth.

"How is she eating if I still have her fucking card?" He slams the plastic on the table that clatters with it's own dramatic flare.

Director Yami gulps desperate for an excuse as Deku's eyes widen.

"New card." Yami shrugs making his way back to the bulletin points behind him.

"Its still active." The room is enveloped in that sweet burning sugary smell as his temper rises. He is no longer playing Mr. Nice guy.

"Activate her tracker." Its a threat and a promise all in one. Do as I say or become fuel for my explosions is everything his eyes say.

"S...she threw her bracelet at me when she resigned." Yami tries to sound direct as Izuku subconsciously fingers the metal on his own wrist.

"Yea but I doubt she did that with the one that's implanted. Pull it up Yami."

The director is stunned into silence before a burning blush creeps onto his face.

"I..." He clears his throat no longer able to hold eye contact with either party, "I don't think it will work."

"What?!" A snarl and a shocked retort echo in the room.

"What do you mean?" Another set of polar opposite tones ring out in the small stuffy place of the meeting room. Yami fishes for his phone in his pocket, pulling up the neglected app swallowing thickly as he is proved right.

The map shows no red dots. Only the hundreds of blue caused by the bracelets. He pushes the phone to the center of the table, the proximity is close enough to reactivate the trackers in the two men. Slowly two red dots flicker to life beside blue.

The third never makes an appearance.

"Why isn't hers showing?" Izuku asks, a glare beginning to weigh heavy in his jade eyes.

"If it's not checked monthly then it deactivates on it's own." He pinches the bridge of his nose, "In my defense I had seen the three of you everyday for the last few months. You guys are a PR nightmare!"

Bakugou's glare narrows in on the ignorant man who was in charge of the safety of hundreds of heroes.

He was going to be pay for his ignorance.

Izuku watches the hot head's toned arm lift, palm spread wide, realizing just in time Bakugou's intentions. He lunges for his old friend, knocking him off balance as the two of them fight. The two men struggling for dominance before the blonde comes out on top.

Literally, pinning the emerald haired man, as he raises a fist, sure to make contact with his stupid, freckled face.

He always hated this face, but you, you didn't seem to mind it.

And yet, in a sense, Deku had let you down too.

But no one let you down as much as Bakugou had. Or so he thinks, he keeps telling himself something isn't right, that he should have followed you.

Maybe even apologized.

"And fuck you too Useless Deku! Too much of a pussy to ask about your fucking friends!" He brings his fist down, aided by the power of his quirk.

Deku shuts his eyes and hope he doesn't lose too many teeth.

The punch makes contact but not with Izuku's face. Instead Bakugou's forearm is half swallowed by carpet, concrete and steel biting into his flesh. He ignores it with a growl. He rises with a growl, scarlet eyes set in determination as he blasts the door from its hinges.

××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

The smell of damp Earth and harsh chemicals assault your nostrils as your vision rapidly fades in and out.

As if it watching an old film, images flickering by just fast enough to give it the effect of motion.

But this felt like a horror film.

And one you are staring in. Your breath comes rapid and hitched as you try to fight the silent fingers that slowly caress against your brain. Each nail numbing a part of your thought process as motion catches your eye from beneath a side door to your right.

The door open illuminating the shadow as a hiss of your bracelets pierce into your skin, injecting you with something that pulls you under faster than the figure can appear before you.

"I think I need to lower the dosage doll. I want those pretty eyes to see their new home I've built." His voice echos in the darkness before all thought is lost to you.

××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

In Bakugou's moment of rage a thought occured to him. One that has floated through his mind for longer than he can remember.

If he wanted something to be done right then he ought to just do it his damnself.

His strong legs carry him down the stairs and winding halls to the records room. Like clockwork the attendant had left for his smoke break at exactly six o clock.

Something Bakugou had noticed years ago and filed away as possibly important.

Just in case he needed to borrow a file without having to check it out.

And he definitely doesn't anyone to know that he may or may not be looking for you.

Because they were more than likely going to try to stop him.

The hot head knew he had a least fifteen minutes, especially since the evening receptionist smoked at this time as the quiet record keeper. The basement dwelling attendant hoping to mac on the handsome receptionist in that short time.

Bakugou was thankful for the stupidity of others for once as he slipped into the records room with the spare key that was tapped beneath the desk.

The room is vast, reeking of mildew and damage paper mixed in with stained ink. He never understood why cases and records were filed manually instead of digitally but today he was grateful for the current CEO's laziness and the former CEO's aversion to both change and technology.

Older records are kept on steel shelves stacked in brown boxes that had to date back to the seventies or eighties while the more recent files were tucked away in half rusted filing cabinets, lining the musty brick walls.

There was no method to the company's madness, the records seemed to be filed haphazardly and more or less half assed over the years by someone whose dreams of being a hero hadn't fully flickered out.

But clearly they had settled for protecting rotting paper in favor of the public.

Bakugou growls as his eyes drag along each paper plaquer none in the exact order he needs. Some even slid into the metal casing upside down.

At least that's how he finds the one labeled "new hires 20XX". His cheeks hurt from his devilish grin before he yanks one of the doors open.

Again organization is thrown to the wind as files sit out of alphabetical order.

Chaotically mingling with one another having Bakugou grind his teeth.

Finally he finds your file, tattered and coffee stained as if someone revisited it quite often. He opens the Manila folder, more than ready to commit your address and whatever other information he could gain from the thick folder before an idea strikes him.

Would anyone even notice a missing file in this mess?

Hell it had taken him almost ten minutes to find and it wasn't as if the director was concerned with your well being.

His eyes narrow at your address, wondering why you chose to live in such a run down part of town before he slips the folder into the front of his pants swiftly covering it with his shirt.

He returns to the front of the record room, quietly shutting the cage door before he takes his gloved hand to the tape.

The door to the left stairwell clangs open. Two male voices echoing in the hall.

"I...I mean that's if...if you want to meet for drinks when you g..get off."

Bakugou rolls his eyes, deft fingers adhering the key back to its home just before the other make answers.

Delight in his voice that twists Bakugou's stomach in whole, green jealousy.

"I'd love to see you later. Until then." What could be a peck on the cheek follows as Bakugou slips into the opposite stairwell.

Wondering why the hell it seemed blossoming relationships came so easily to everyone around him.

His ribs throb as a reminder that that was something he would never have the privilege to experience as your voice echos in his head.

"We were never friends."

The mineola folder suddenly feels too hot against his skin, burning even. For a second he wonders why he is even doing this.

Why he's bothering himself with finding someone that clearly doesn't care for his company. He thinks to himself that he will just place the folder in his desk, that he'll abandon the notion of being a sleuth and return to his hot headed no fucks given ways.

But you whisper in his head once more with a weak, sleepy tone.

"Please stay, Katsuki."

Strengthening his resolve to find you once more.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha au #bnha angst #bakugou angst #bakugou au #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugo x you

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rizlowwritessortof · 4 years

Text

Black Velvet - Chapter 6

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1485

Warnings: (for the series as a whole) Demon!Dean (he deserves his own warning, dub-con, rough sex, smut, angst

You shower and change, wondering if you’d wake up soon and realize it’s all been a dream. Everything, the whole situation, seems so surreal. As you zip up your jeans, you remember. Dean is still sitting there exposed. Shit. If Sam sees…

You swear under your breath, rushing to the dungeon, praying that he didn’t get back home while you were in the shower. The door is still locked, and you feel relief flood through you, although you dread walking back into that room. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to prepare yourself, and flip the switch.

Dean is smirking as you walk in, and you studiously avoid looking into his eyes. “Well… decided to come back for sloppy seconds?”

“Shut up,” you respond, bending to yank his clothing back into place with very little help from him, desperately trying not to touch him in the process.

“I was kinda looking forward to hearing you explain that to Sammy. Sure know how to take the fun out of things.” You refuse to answer as you finish, then step back, and your heart stops as you hear Sam’s voice behind you.

“Explain what to me?” He does not sound pleased, and Dean’s lips curl in an evil grin as you glare at him in warning.

You take a breath and turn to face the music. “What I’m doing in here,” you bluff, praying that he’s too exhausted and distracted to detect your discomfort.

“Well? What are you doing in here, Smalls? I told you, he’s dangerous. And yet, here you are, inside the damn devil’s trap.”

“Sam, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have come in here. But I was worried those ropes might be too tight. I was just checking…”

“He’s a demon.” Sam’s pissed, his words clipped, his mouth tight, and he turns to set a small cooler on the desk as you step towards him, reaching your hand to touch his arm.

“He’s still Dean, Sam. It’s still Dean’s body. I just wanted…” You can’t even finish, Sam’s anger is not something you can bear right now, and tears sting your eyes. “I’m sorry, Sam. Please don’t be mad at me.”

He still refuses to look at you, trying to get himself under control. “You don’t understand how fucking lethal he is, Smalls. You don’t know what he’s capable of, what he could do to you.”

“Oh, I think she knows,” Dean throws in sarcastically, and you whirl to glower at him as you respond.

“Shut the fuck up.” He lifts a sardonic eyebrow at you, then quirks another amused smile as he looks away, and you turn back to Sam. He looks down at you, taking a breath and looking remorseful as you blink away the tears.

He speaks softly, one huge paw reaching to cradle the side of your face. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t want you getting hurt.” You nod, and he kisses the top of your head gently as Dean huffs out a soft, derisive little snort. You both ignore him, and you gesture towards the cooler.

“Did you get it?” He nods, taking a deep breath, and pulling a small box containing syringes from his jacket pocket. You look up at him, gnawing nervously at your lip. “Are you sure, Sam?”

He swallows hard, his jaw working, and gives a short nod. “We have no choice, Smalls.” You watch uneasily as he readies the syringe, filling it with blood. “You don’t have to watch,” he says softly, and you look at him resolutely.

“I’m staying.” He doesn’t argue, just nods and turns towards Dean, who is staring back with a homicidal gleam in his eyes.

You stumble into your room, dropping to the floor at the foot of the bed and hugging your knees to your chest. Your breathing is harsh and ragged, your chest hurts, and little incoherent sounds are trapped in your tightened throat.

You had stayed as long as you could, squeezed your eyes shut at Dean’s agonized screams, tried to ignore the cruel things he was saying to Sam, terrified that he would turn his malicious contempt your direction. He hadn’t. But he had looked straight at you as his body went through painful spasms, the sanctified blood burning through his veins like acid, and you could see through his hate-filled glare to the desperate pleading beneath. It was tearing you apart.

You had found Dean unconscious when you had followed Sam into the dungeon to give him the next injection. You had watched, terrified, as Sam slapped him, shook him, finally getting a reaction. Sam was exhausted, and Dean had been vicious, attacking Sam where it hurt the most – family. You had run from the room as Sam had jabbed the needle into Dean’s neck, unable to watch the two men you loved the most in this world tear each other apart. Dean’s screams had followed you, echoing in your ears as you ran away.

You rock back and forth on the floor, too wrecked to even shed a tear. This treatment, torture, whatever it was you were doing to him – was it even working? He didn’t seem any better. Sicker, yes. But more human? You struggle within yourself, unwilling to give him up, even as he is now – and what if this kills him? What if you lose him, this time for good? Sam is scared of the same thing, you know that, even though he hasn’t spoken to you.

“Are you okay?” Sam’s voice startles you, and you look up into his face, his expression haggard and beaten.

“I don’t know. Sam… it’s not working. What if we’re just slowly killing him? We don’t know…”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” Sam’s eyes sparkle with tears, his mouth working wordlessly for a moment before he can continue. “We have no choice. Dean – the real Dean – wouldn’t want to live like this. I know that. And you know it, too, Smalls. I know you don’t want to lose him. Fuck, do I know. I don’t want to lose him, either, and I don’t want him to suffer like he is now. But we don’t have a choice.” He turns and walks away, and you rest your forehead on your knees, your insides churning.

You sit there for a while, unaware of the passage of time, until a scuffling sound makes you raise your head. Sam is skidding to a halt in your doorway, his face tight with panic. “Smalls, get out of the bunker. Now. He’s loose. I don’t know how, but he’s loose.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest as you jump to your feet, and Sam takes off down the hall. You don’t even have shoes on, but you don’t care – you just know you have to get out. Even with what you’ve gone through, with what you’ve done with Dean already, you’ve terrified beyond the capacity to think straight. You run down the hall, through the kitchen, and you’ve almost made it to the doorway when he grabs your arm, throwing you violently against the wall, his arm across your throat. “You make a sound, and you’re dead. And then I’ll kill Sammy. Understand?” His voice is soft and dark, black velvet like the color of his eyes as he looks down at you. You nod, almost numb with fright, but he leans in and kisses you hard, forcing his tongue into your mouth even though you’re too scared to respond. “You’re coming with me. You fight me, and I’ll stay here and flay Sammy an inch at a time while you watch. You come peacefully, and he lives another day.”

You nod, your face working as you desperately fight the urge to cry, and he kisses you again, one large hand squeezing your breast as he crushes you against the wall. Then he’s grabbing you by the wrist, yanking hard as he pulls you behind him, and you scramble to keep up with his long strides.

He drags you through room after room, a huge hammer in his free hand as his eyes sweep back and forth, searching. You are through the door and down the stairs in the garage when the lights go out, alarms sounding and red emergency lights flaring to life, washing everything in a bloody glow. “Nice try, Sammy,” he mutters, shoving you into the passenger seat of the Impala. He climbs into the driver’s side, starting the engine, and backs up with a squeal of the tires before slamming it into drive and putting his foot to the floor. The black beast of a car crashes through the garage door, and then you’re flying down the road, cowering against the door as Dean cranks the radio.

“Where are we going?” you manage to ask, you voice shaking. He looks over at you and grins.

“Wherever the hell I want.”

Chapter 7

#black velvet reblog #chapter 6 #demon!dean fic #demon!dean x reader #dean x reader

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rose-blooms-red · 4 years

Text

carlycrays replied to your post “Sup yall it's me back at it again with the jumpy...”

Star Wars: Rex gets poisoned by plant on mission and Ahsoka and Anakin don't know what to do. Can be as serious or funny as you want.

I used this prompt as a distraction yesterday so it did end up being more serious. But thank you so much for the prompt!

(Read on Ao3)

It starts out slow, little, nothing to worry about as they make the trek across the planet.

Little things, tiny things that he brushes off as inconsequential and nothing to worry about.

Tiny pricks of pain he shrugs off. The way his vision grows hazier around the edges as they march on that he convinces himself is just exhaustion. He tells himself that it’s nothing, that all he needs is to get through this march and make it to a spot where they can set up base and then he can rest and he’ll be fine.

But as they go on it starts to build more, his chest goes tight and the breaths he draws are ragged. It takes far more effort than it should to keep himself from panting. But he sets it to the side, thinks that it must just be the combination of exhaustion and how far they’ve marched, how many droids they have had to fight between their drop zone and their goal as the wilderness deprives them of a good place to rest without worry.

He doesn’t notice the shaking though, not until he stumbles and Commander Tano catches him.

“Rex?” She asks, and she sounds scared, he tries to stand and reassure her, can’t manage it. His body feels leaden and his tongue numb, his mind slow and hazy.

“C’mander?” He tries to say, but it comes out more like a question.

“Master!” Someone—the Commander he thinks—cries out, and she sounds frantic now. There’s a steady buzz in his ear, he can’t tell if it’s in his head or if the Commander is doing the babbling thing she does when she’s nervous and scared.

“S’okay.” He says, thinks he manages to say it out loud, tries to reassure her.

“Captain” he hears, distant to his foggy head but the sound of a brother, even and controlled in the way only a medic can be. He thinks it’s Kix, is confused why he’s here with Rex when he’s needed elsewhere.

“They’ve got things handled sir, now I need you to open your eyes and look at me.” Rex frowns, he hadn’t realized he’d shut them. He forces them open, and it feels like it takes more of his strength than it should, the world is blurry and he breathes in deep, chokes on it, coughs.

Kix does something that Rex doesn’t catch and the last thing he remembers for a long while is the sound of multiple voices speaking over each other, the cadence of increasingly frantic speech growing louder, before he drifts off.

__________

Something pings at the back of Ahsoka’s mind around the halfway point of their march. Just the sense of something slightly out of place that she can’t put her finger on. She doesn’t have much time to figure it out either, as they march through the planet's vegetation and do their best to avoid the droids.

They are not successful in avoiding them, but they don’t lose many men to them either, so Ahsoka is willing to count that as a win. The vegetation and the fact they have yet to be able to find a good spot to rest is more dangerous than anything else right now, Ahsoka knows.

She shakes it off, ignores it in favour of focusing on getting her men to someplace they can rest. It works, until the pinging grows more insistent and then suddenly Rex is stumbling against her and the feeling thrusts itself to the forefront of her mind, the Force shouting warning at her as she steadies the Captain.

“Rex?” She asks, because Rex doesn’t stumble, and the hum of the Force is insistent and the way Rex is swaying is scaring her, the fact she can hear the effort it takes for him to breathe terrifying.

“C’mander?” He asks, and she feels her heart pounding in her chest as she reaches out with the Force, tries to see what’s wrong despite the fact that it has never been her strong suit. Barriss has always been better at healing and Ahsoka wishes, not for the first time, that she had Barriss’s inclination towards it, her skill at it.

She tries to breathe through her panic, there is something wrong about Rex’s signature, something draining away at him and flowing through his body that doesn’t belong.

She steadies Rex as best as she can as he slips down and holds his head in her lap, pouring everything she has into keeping his heart beating as she frantically calls out “Master!”.

It takes too long for Master Skywalker to get there, she feels like she’s waiting ages that Rex does not have as she waits for Skyguy to make it to them. She thinks she might be shaking, knows that Rex is. Rex is trembling in her arms and panting and she scrambles to get his helmet off.

“S’okay” Rex mumbles and she grips tight onto his arm, because it really isn’t.

She looks up as Skyguy and starts talking as soon as she thinks he can hear her.

“I can’t get it to stop, I don’t know what it is but he was fine and then he wasn’t. I don’t know what to do. Where’s Kix I—” She cuts herself off, breathes, tries not to cry or breakdown. Knows she’s babbling but can’t help it.

Master Skywalker’s grip is tight and grounding around her arm, “Breath Little one, Kix is right here okay?”

She breathes, tries to steady herself, as Kix takes Rex’s vitals and sets up the scanner, “Captain.” Kix says, tries to get Rex’s attention, to make Rex focus on him.

Rex frowns, breathing shallow, “K’x? What’re you doing? Arn’ you,” There’s a pause as Rex coughs, wheezes, “needed other plac’s?”

Ahsoka tries to lock down the worry as Rex’s words slur and stumble in a way he’d never let them normally. Can feel the way Skyguy is bleeding his own anxiety and worry into the force and swallows, tries not to let it sweep her up into panic.

“They’ve got things handled sir, now I need you to open your eyes and look at me.” Kix says, and his voice is even and steady, his moves measured and practiced as he frowns at the scanner, moves both Ahsoka and her Master back and focuses on Rex.

It takes too long for Rex to force his eyes open and Ahsoka holds her breath until he does, loses it all as he draws a breath and starts to choke on it. She hugs her middle tightly and forces herself to stay still, to not rush forward and get in the way and make things worse. But Rex is still coughing and she doesn’t think he’s even breathing and she can’t help the frantic, “Rex?” that slips out.

Skyguy is pushing forward and Ahsoka can’t hear what he’s saying over the buzzing in her ears, all she can see is the alarm in Kix’s face before he hides it, yanks open his med kit and grabs a hypo. She grabs onto Skyguy’s arm, holds him back as Kix places gentle hands to Rex’s head to keep him from moving and injects whatever is in the hypo into his neck.

Whatever it is slows the drain of Rex’s signature, slows the spread of the sickening feeling within him and keeps the warmth of his life force within him.

Ahsoka breathes, wishes again that she knew anything about medicine, feels useless instead. Tries not to think about how she is falling apart in front of the men, feels a little better that she is not the only one out of her depth.

Master Skywalker is still a miasma of anxiety and fear and worry, his antsiness spreading and it makes her skin itch. She tugs on his arm and he turns to her, squeezes at her shoulder. He sends a wave of steadying comfort to her despite all the different overwhelming emotions she feels from him.

She appreciates that he tries. And it helps a little, though it is not the steadiness she wants right now, needs right now.

At some point he’s called away, is needed elsewhere. She can feel his reluctance to leave but he’s still General, can’t abandon his duties to all of the men out of worry for one of them. He leaves with a final squeeze of her arm, a burst of certainty that everything will be alright.

She stands there alone, wraps her arms tight around herself and watches Kix work, feels the anxious buzz and worry of the men. A swirling storm of a feedback loop.

She breathes, brings her shields up solid around her the best she can, cocoons herself with them. She squeezes her arms once, tightly, before letting them fall to her sides, tries to send out a wave of calm, can’t quite manage it.

She walks back over to Rex and Kix slowly, careful to stay out of the way.

“What’s wrong with him?” She asks, and her voice comes out smaller than she meant it to.

Kix looks up, he hasn’t out his bucket back on yet, and his expression is gentle worry. He looks at her and she must look frantic because his expression shades gentle, reassuring.

“The Captain must have gotten nicked a while back by a plant on the planet that’s known to carry a slow acting poison,” He holds up what looks like tiny little thorns and shows them to her, “he must’ve gotten thrown into one of them during a skirmish and the thorns snapped off into the spaces between his armour platings.”

Kix puts the thorns down, checks Rex’s vitals as he keeps talking, “It’s not immediately fatal, there’s a known vaccine for it, but the longer it goes untreated the longer the vaccine takes to work and the more dangerous it is.”

Ahsoka bites her lip, feels sick. She should’ve known, she doesn’t know why she didn’t catch it before.

Kix taps her arm gently, raps his knuckles against her head, “He’ll be okay Commander, a little weak, and a lot better the quicker we get off this planet, but I had the right stuff to take care of it and keep him stable.”

She nods, exhales and feels relief swell in her chest.

She waits there, watches the rise and fall of Rex’s chest, the slow, steady beat of his heart. Reaches out to feel the warmth of his life in the Force and feels herself steady a little.

Eventually, when she’s steady enough, she bites her lip and fidgets in place.

“I should go tell Master Skywalker,” She says, still doesn’t move.

Kix looks at her and knocks his pauldron against her arm, gives her a nod, “Go on Commander, it’ll be fine. I’ve got the watch.”

She exhales, nods jerkily and turns to go. Reminds herself that Kix won’t let his brother die if he can help it, that he’s brilliant at his job.

It does help a little bit. Makes her feel better at least.

She makes her way through the anxious buzz of the men, wants to reassure them, can’t summon the ability to without seeming like a liar. She makes her way to Skyguy instead.

She finds him helping with set up. When she starts getting close to him his head snaps up and he turns to Dream, says something. Grips his shoulder before breaking away and moving to meet her.

“Snips?”

She reaches out towards him in the Force, and he meets her halfway, wraps her in a gentle feeling that’s just the slightest bit rough and coarse. Anakin, even when he gentles his presence, always keeps some of the wildness that makes being around him unshielded hurt. It’s not his fault, there is just too much of him, and it naturally swirls like a storm around him.

Gentling storms is never easy, but Ahsoka doesn’t mind it really, just sinks into the feeling of warmth surrounding her.

“Kix says that he’ll be okay.”

Skyguy lets out a breath of relief, and some of the worry bleeds out of his signature. It helps her relax.

“I felt so useless.” She whispers, like a confession, and Skyguy surges forward, wraps her up in his arms.

“I know.”

“I didn’t know what to do.” She says, and her voice cracks, shakes, “I didn’t know what to do or how to fix it I just knew he was dying and I—”

She cuts herself off, breathes and tries to stop shaking. Doesn’t manage it.

Master Skywalker hugs her tighter, “I know Little one, and I’m sorry. But Kix has him, he’ll be okay.”

She nods, she knows that, she just can’t help the fear still clinging to her.

She closes her eyes, examines her fear, accepts it as what it is, acknowledges it and that she doesn’t want to lose anymore of her men, lets it go.

She opens her eyes and Skyguy smiles down at her, “Good Job Padawan.”

(Rex wakes later, disoriented and weak, but okay. Ahsoka breathes and it’s relief.

Next time, she promises herself, she’ll be better. Next time, she’ll know what to do.)

#captain rex #Ahsoka Tano #clone trooper kix #anakin skywalker #star wars #the clone wars #ro'swriting #mywriting #ro answers

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

Quarantine.27

[Masterlist] Editor: [Yoongisauce] Pairing: BTS x reader Friends2Lovers Genres: friendship, drama, romance SLOWEST OF BURNS. until the anticipation kills us all… Rating: PG-13 and above Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 1.5k Announcement: I am also updating my 365 prompts this evening, if anyone is interested in them.

[Part 1] [Part 26] [Part 28] [Tag Yourself Here]

“The car park!”

You snapped your head up searching for the parking lot your brother yelled of.

“It’s the one with the cheap parking! Remember?” Thomas continued over the walkie, “That’s where I left my car the morning of the alert. Go there. The passenger door doesn’t lock, remember!”

Seokjin kept repeating, car park, over and over again. Your head pounded, heartbeat just as loud and heavy, and as quick as your boots on the pavement.

“And you told me to get a new car because the passenger door doesn’t close properly,” Thomas got out. “We parked there and walked a couple of blocks to work and got coffee,” he stammered, “-but that’s not the point. Go there and hide in the car.”

Pulling Seokjin into the parking lot, you searched for the correct number and letter sequence among the plates. Finally, spotting the rusty green mess of a car. It looked beaten up, littered with dents.

Pushing the fatigued Idol towards the vehicle. You ripped open the door, forcing him inside. Shutting the door behind the both of you.

You panted as you tried to catch your breath. You could hear the men coming. Their footsteps echoing through the underground lot. Yanking down the back seat you shoved Seokjin into the boot and climbed in after. Moving the seats back up to their original position, you hoped to hide from prying eyes.

Silence washed over the both of you as the adrenaline wore off. You ripped off your helmets. The air in the trunk was fairly clean, since the two of you hastily scrambled to get there. Clothing and cd’s sharing the space with you.

Seokjin’s body awkwardly curled around you, stuck simultaneously under and over you .

He tried to manoeuvre out from under you but ended up digging his knee into your thigh. You couldn’t help but let out a scream from the burning searing sensation.

Seokjin’s hand snapped to your mouth muffling your screams. He frantically reached for his phone to use as a light source. Scanning down your body his eyes widened. The two of you looked like you belonged in a horror movie. Blood covered both your legs, soaking the thin carpet padding of the trunk.

On closer inspection, Seokjin spotted a hole in your suit. He wiggled his torso down until he was almost bent in half. His fears were confirmed. You had been shot, directly in the thigh.

Turning to straddle you, Seokjin frowned and unzipped your suit. If you weren’t in this situation right now, under different circumstances, you may have thought this action was sexy. But the blood loss made you feel hot and nauseous.

Seokjin opened the suit, exposing your thigh, and grabbed one of the clean shirts that littered the back. He tied it tightly around the wound. He waited as he heard the men walk by, their footsteps moving quickly and voices calling out.

The pain was bearable if you laid completely still but every breath and heartbeat was pure agony. After waiting as long as he could, Seokjin moved slowly so he was laying reverse. His head at your feet and your feet at his head.

“I had a dream like this once,” He chuckled, opening the medical bag and searching for things that could help you.

“We were in a sixty-nine position in the boot of my brother’s car as bandits tried to kill us and I bled out. A classic, Who hasn’t had that one yet?”

Your dry laugh was cut off by a groan as he bumped your leg. You reached between your bodies grabbing the bag and pulling out the last dose of morphine and a clean syringe. You have given injections in the past but you had a big fear of needles. You weren’t sure if this would work.

“Not quite that old gem, cause you weren’t dying but I still took you to heaven if you know what I mean?” He snickered, “You were moaning a little differently too, it was more like Jin-ah don’t stop.”

“Check if there is an exit wound,” You spoke, getting down to business. Jin felt around the back of your leg. “If not this might get a little more complicated.”

“Like it wasn’t complicated enough,” he muttered as he continued to feel up and down the back of your thigh.

“This isn’t foreplay Jin. There is a hole in my lower body”

“That sounds awfully a lot like foreplay.”

“You’re right, that does sound like foreplay.”

“Found it!”

You hissed painfully as he indeed found the exit wound. He looked down between your bodies and gave you an upside-down grin. “I am nothing if not an attentive lover.”

You began directing Seokjin on how to treat the wound as you slowly tried to give yourself the morphine shot. It was the scariest thing but you got through it with gritted teeth and bruised arms.

Relaxing against a soft pile of clothes in the trunk you looked up, eyes following Seokjin’s long legs in the puffy suit. You couldn’t resist and found yourself patting the roundness of his bottom.

“Are you serious right now. You could lose a leg if you bump me.”

“You’re wrapping gauze around my leg Jin, not performing open-heart surgery,” you muttered, “Plus I am going numb from either the blood loss or the drugs. I am not sure. So take the whole leg off if it’s less trouble.” You giggled smacking his butt again, “You know I think you look better this way. If you looked like this you would truly be talking out your ass.”

Seokjin liked this side of you, it reminded him of the time you all had drinks after dish duty. You both talked exaggeratedly about the male and female lead and the plot holes in the drama storyline.

“Shush I am working, no more touching or talking about my glorious behind.”

As the morphine took the searing pain from your head thoughts and images filled the space. The man you shot, his face there gasping as he bled out. A sick feeling bloomed in your chest like a drop of food coloring in water. It spread making you feel incredibly ill.

You hadn’t realized you were crying, a complete mess of broken sobs and thick sniffles. Seokjin took one of your hands and squeezed it, having finished the bandage and held you to his chest, “Let’s take a quick rest and then we will think about moving okay.”

Unable to answer you buried your face into his broad chest trying to muffle your screams. As the gunshot rang out over and over again flashes of a bloody hand reached out to you. The wet gasps as he choked on his own blood and the fear he expressed as you physically saw the candle that was his life slowly burn out. The panic was hitting you hard and you couldn’t breathe.

Jin didn’t know what to do to help and in his own panic he started singing.

It’s not that I believe it But that I want to try holding out Because this is All that I can do

The words, desperate and quiet, tickled your ears in a whisper against your hair. There was nothing else he could do, there was no inhaler in your bag. This was his moment to prove he changed, he won’t shy away or run anymore, not from you, or life, or his military enlistment. He was going to push further until finally, he wasn’t scared anymore.

Yeah it’s my truth It’s my truth I will be covered with wounds all over But it’s my fate It’s my fate Still, I want to struggle and fight

Your body slowly relaxed against his and you fell asleep, exhausted from the events and the physical pain your body was in.

Jungkook kept running until he reached the meeting point. The soldiers caught up and sighed in annoyance. Their walkie was glitching and they haven’t received the last few transmissions.

“Captain Won-Shik, we don’t know if they returned?”

“Cadet Tae-U. We got to keep moving. Y/N isn’t dumb. She would have led Seokjin home.”

Captain Won-Shik huffed, “Come on we risk more lives staying out here exposed like this. This isn’t some soap or drama. This is real life and you know we follow protocol. We don’t risk more lives than necessary, and right now we are risking lives.”

The Captain walked off, “We just saved this young man and you want to endanger him yet again on an assumption that they aren’t safe.”

Jungkook hated how right the captain of the squad was, telling himself not to risk his life so foolishly. It felt weird being protected and not being the one going above and beyond. The old him would have sworn it was his duty to go out there and find you, to bring you back safe. But he finally felt like he was nobody and had no obligations.

It killed him not knowing whether you were safe and yet he has finally given himself the choice. Not what was expected of him, not what he thought people wanted him to do. No longer trying to push, to lead, to make a good impression. He was free of the burden. Free of expectations.

He turned that burden onto himself to bare alone. Everyone expected him to pick up any slack. Jungkook knew deep down that this wasn’t the case but the realization now hit him full force. He understood now how much he stretched himself thin for others.

[Part 1] [Part 26] [Part 28] [Tag Yourself Here]

Tags: @hi-itstt @bubbletae7 @lovemusicandotps @taetaebq @seveniefive @w0lfqu33n @anaiss97 @moccahobi @maddymal @lilacdreams-00 @lethargicalyssa @knjkitten @pieislife @bunnyboyenthusiast @vividwoosan @seesawsmin-flower @tinyunknownflower @gguksfilter @fawnzilla @passionate-love-57911 @btrombley13

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the-mangled-readings · 4 years

Text

Project AI0.043 (Part 5.5)

lA/N: Sorry it took me a long time, but I been really busy lately but I promise I'm a get back to writing!

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Story Summary: On the 12th Hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible. He got seven of them but never found the last one.

Chapter Summary: We get to know what happened to the Reader after Five left to the Present.

Warnings: Abuse, Violence, Language.

Word Count: 2,193

Tag List: @featuringcone9 @lesbianismybitchname @fiveisadorable @here-in-never-land sweetingcas @whatawildone

You watched the blue portal fade away right in front of your eyes, with your husband in it. Five was gone. He never meant to leave you behind, but you guys had already planned out everything since the beginning, but now that he was officially gone, your mind wasn’t at ease. All those years of being married, doing missions together, those nights where you guys would share each other's company, they were all gone. You knew he needed to come back to his family, to save them, and the world, but what about you ... You were his wife, and you were as important as his siblings. Weren’t you?

You were about to leave the area when everything stopped in time. You knew what this meant, she was here, and it wasn’t good.

“Well, well, well.” You heard a familiar voice from behind. “Looks like our beloved Five is gone for good.” The Handler smiled. You watched her walk around you like a predator, waiting to jump on its prey, but you notice her fidgeting, she would usually do this when she felt anxious.

“Something troubling you Miss ...” You teased, earning a small scoff from her. “You know, for someone that was thaught to be a deadly mercenary, I must say, you’re going soft.”

“Is that all you could come up with?” You quirked an eyebrow, making her roll her eyes. “No, Darling.” She finally stopped in front of you. “What I meant is that it’s a shame to see such a good Ace like yourself ...” She began to trail off, slowing getting closer to you. “Lower herself, just for a simple man.”

“He’s not just a simple man, he’s m-” You argued but was quickly cut off.

“Your husband, yes ... I am very aware of the atrocities you guys had done. It’s like Bonnie and Clyde never died.” She teased. “But if I may, you guys were also partners at the beginning. Did it ever occurred to you that maybe ... just maybe, he might have been using you all along just to get what he wanted?” She quirked her eyebrow and a small grin began to form in her lips. You knew this tactic, she was trying to manipulate your mind, like in the past.

“He would never do such a thing. I helped him because what we do is not right ...” You argued, making your fist light up a little. She quickly took notice of this and argued back immediately. “No, but it is OUR job to kee-”

“WHO SAYS ITS OUR JOB, HUH.” You interrupted her, your eyes were now glowing. “Look, Anya ... We all have our purposes in this world, the moment we’re all born, and if we do not follow our paths, it causes an imbalance to th-”

“How do you even know that ... See, this is what I mean. This Organization is all about following guidelines, submitting to the rules, but it shouldn’t be like that. We need to let things happen on their own.”

“I’m afraid, we cannot ... Otherwise, how will the world keep its balance? Everybody is taught differently, according to their cultures, religion, and legacies. We trained YOU with logic and facts, so you could see things clearly, but I’m afraid that your emotions got the best of you once again, so I’m a have to terminate this project ... and start all over.” She looked down, searching for her black sunglasses. “What ... What pro-” You suddenly felt a sharp pain in your neck, it was warm and it spread quickly, making your drop to your knees followed by the floor. “I will see you in a bit, my Dear.” She smiled coldly and waved at you before you lost conscience.

You suddenly woke up tied up in a bed, a shiver ran down your back, as you quickly recognized the cold and enclosed chamber, you began to panic. Its size was small but the ceiling seemed to never end. Your eyes darted everywhere, the small scratches and holes on the walls, made you remember why you were so scared of disobeying The Handler as a child.

“NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, with tears dripping down your cheeks. “LET ME OUT, OR I WILL BURN EVERYBODY IN THIS FUCKING BUILDING!” You clenched your fist but nothing came out. The only thing you could feel right now was anger and fear.

“I’m glad to inform you that it won’t happen any sooner my dear, not after that little incident we had many years ago.” You heard The Handler’s voice echoed through the walls. “We modified the chamber, so it can hold your powers and absorb them, meaning you'll just become a regular human ... but don’t worry we’ll use them for a good cause, for now, you need to sleep.”

Then a loud vibrant noise echoed through the chamber, making you feel lightheaded and nauseous. You tried to fight it but the more you tried you grew weaker and weaker.

“No ...” You whispered. “You’re all going to pay for this ...” With an unknown force, you began to scream even louder, and move agitatedly, with the noise still ringing in your ears.

You didn’t know how or for how long you had been screaming, but now, your voice was almost gone, you felt tired and weak. Your body shivered from the cold. Your eyes slowly scanned the room and fell into a small figure, a girl, sitting by the wall, her arms crossed above her knees covering her face, making it hard to see her clearly, but you did notice some bruises in her arms, and she was wearing a gown, maybe she was another poor victim they tried using.

You slowly tried to sit up but she quickly jumped under the bed, now crying.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise.” You tried to sympathize with the little girl, only hearing her crying stop. “You can’t help me.” Her voice was raspy and distorted. “We’re only going to make it worse if we fight, or have forgotten already?” You slowly raised your head, only to find the girl floating above you and looking down at you, her tears dripping down into your face. Her bruises slowly began to spread and darken her skin until she was completely dark. “BECAUSE I HAVEN’T!” She screamed, while her body caught on fire, dripping her remainings on your body, making you caught on fire too.

“NO!” You screamed, yanking yourself off from the dream and from one of the restraints while getting forcefully pushed back into the bed by one large male nurse. “NO! LET ME GO.” You punched him on the jaw, only earning the same treatment back. It hurt like hell, the chamber did a great job at absorbing all of your abilities because now you were spitting blood.

You turned to the male and spit on his face, making him angrier but he was quickly pulled back by the other 3 nurses that entered the tiny room. Catching you off guard, one of the other nurses quickly injected you a yellow liquid, staining you instantly.

“AH !” You yelled, yanking it off your arm, stabbing her on the throat, making her drop to her knees and bleed out on the floor.

“Claudia!” The large male nurse yelled and was about to throw you another punch when you heard a familiar voice enter the room. “Adam, behave yourself.” The Handler ordered. “Please, let us be, we need to speak privately, and Oh dear God, please take that thing away from here.” She turned away, pinching her nose, blocking the smell Claudia’s body was releasing, while the rest of the nurses carried Claudia’s lifeless body out of the room. “Dear, Dear, you really don’t know when to stop do you?” She finally turned to you, a mocking smile spread on her face.

“I was taught by the best if I can remember.”

“That is true.” She nodded, still smiling. “Glad to know our training served you well.”

“Cut the bullshit, what do you want.” You snapped, making her frown. “My, my, someone is cranky today, aren’t we.”

“What did that nurse inject me with, it burns.”

“Well ... you put us in a very difficult situation, Anya. You see you’re the only one with enough power to stop the Apocalypse, and even to create one, so we can’t let you go ... and we can’t kill you either. So there’s only one appropriate solution, for these types of situations. We injected you with a neuro-acid which will put you in a permanent coma. Exactly what we had planned at the beginning ... ”

Your heart instantly jumped at the word “Coma”.

“No, YOU CAN’T ...”

“It will be a simple and elegant way to ... put an end to our collaboration ... Just so you know, we will always be grateful for your help. Goodbye, my Dear.” You watched The Handler walk away, but you noticed another young woman standing by the door before being shut behind her.

“That girl ... I remember her.” You said to yourself but the neuro-acid began to hit you immediately. Your breathing became heavier, and your vision was slowly becoming blurry. The room was spinning, and your body felt numb, it was like floating on water, but you couldn’t move nor speak.

“No, no, no, no, no, n-” You thought before shutting your eyes.

You were now trapped inside your own mind, floating in the darkness and cold.

“Five ...” You whispered to yourself. “Help me ...”

“Poor thing ...” You heard a woman’s voice echoed through the darkness. “Such waste ... I thought you were stronger ... I guess I was wrong.” She continued.

“Wh-who a- ...” You tried to speak, but nothing came out, you couldn’t even make a phrase in your mind. “I am what lives within you ... I’m that small spark that makes the REAL ... you.” She began. How did she even hear you, or even knew what you wanted to ask? “I believe I told you, I am part of you ... (Y/N).”

You tried moving your head around, but you couldn’t. “Help ... me.” You begged to the unknown voice.

“It’s cute how hard you try ... Look at you, you’re just weak, you’re flawed, helpless, you’re nothing.”

“Please, hel- ...”

All of a sudden, you regained your strength and sat up from the bed you had been tied up. The darkness changed into bright and warm colors, making a trail from the ceiling to right in front of you, and that’s when you finally saw the woman. Her skin was pale, and her hair was white, she was dressed in black, much to your likeless she kinda looked like The Handler, but also like somebody else, she was facing away from you. “Your mind seems to be troubled.” She asked, tilting her head to the side. You took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m ... Is this an illusion? Or a dream?” You asked, but the woman turned and stared at you blankly. “Only if you want it to be.” And with that, she turned away from you again. “What did you mean by I am what lives within you.” You slowly got up from the bed, walking towards her.

“I saved you many years ago when you were a child ... you were just a lab rat back then, they have been using for their stupid experiments. Their preservation of the time continuum ... It’s just a Fantasy, no one, but US can actually keep the timeline intact ... we can even alter it.” She finally turned to face you, her eyes were dark, lifeless, but her stare somehow had a heavy feel to it. “We’re the creators of Worlds, (Y/N). We can do whatever ... we ... want.” She spoke, raising her hand, the colors changed drastically, forming stars and planets. “When I came to this planet, I heard a call, YOUR call, they had been torturing you for years and I could feel it. They tried to understand the origin of your powers, but little did they know that they were just looking at the tip of the iceberg. (Y/N) do you have any idea of what you are truly capable of?”

“Why do you keep calling me like that ...” You asked, bewildered. “Because that is your real name before they stole it away.” This time, her tone changed into a more warm and comforting. “Your real name is (Y/N) (Y/LN). You were born just outside (THE CITY YOU WERE BORN), your mother and father, (YOUR PARENTS NAME), loved you dearly, but they had no idea of what they were getting into.”

“What happened to them?” You looked at her, tears falling down your cheeks.

“My dear (Y/N), this is going to be painful to hear but, now we have an eternity to talk about it, so let me tell you what really happened, from the beginning and to the reality you know today ...”

#The Umbrella Academy #The Umbrell Academy fanfiction #The Umbrella Academy fanfic #The Umbrella Academy imagine #The Umbrella Academy x Reader #number five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves fanfic #Five Hargreeves fanfiction

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friendlylocalwhumper · 5 years

Text

“There you go, darling. Breathe. In and out.”

Lux tries to curl in on himself, whining when he’s pulled to sit up and a hand presses against his sternum to keep him upright. He’s pulled into someone’s lap, his back held up against a broad chest, and the familiar smell of the Hunter somehow registers among the suffocating metallic stench of blood. Lux’s weak choking sounds become actual coughs again, blood spilling from his lips.

“Good boy,” The Hunter says approvingly, rubbing his chest, and Lux shudders. He wants Emory back, doesn’t want to be in the Hunter’s lap again, to die with obedient thoughts in his head.

But fingers wind into his hair to keep his head up, and a glass of water is tipped to his lips, and his horror is replaced for a moment by stunned gratitude. The taste of blood washes away if only for a second, and he can swallow again, and breathing becomes a manageable task again.

“Tha-ank you,” The warlock rasps. He tries to tip his head back onto the Hunter’s shoulder, too tired to do anything but flop, but the grip on his curls tightens.

“You’ll choke if you do that,” His old captor explains, and Lux whines. He gets so whiny when he’s pliable under the Hunter’s hands, because it’s so scary, and he just wants Emory, wants to be away from hands that twist and crush and punish.

“Ple-, -ease, heal m-me.” Blood bubbles up in his throat, thick and dense. As soon as he starts to choke on it, he’s dipped forward, his chest pressed against, and with the help of gravity he coughs it up. He’s pulled back up to lean against the Hunter, dizzy and gasping.

“I can’t, little one. The poison affects me too. Damn feds didn’t tell me… but I wasn’t born with magic like you were, I’m not disgusting and wrong like you.” The Hunter’s hand comes up to Lux’s throat in a threat to cut off his air manually if he fails to earn mercy with obedience. Lux’s eyes flutter and his stomach twists at the disgust, the assertion of his wrongness that sounds so true. Even if Lux could be healed, he wouldn’t deserve it.

“They’re killing warlocks, just like I do,” The Hunter continues with a thrill of joy at Lux’s staggered, reedy breaths. “But I can’t let you die, my light. You’re my little warlock, my favorite. I’ll keep you breathing one way or another.”

Lux frowns as he tries to tip his head up to escape the hand around his throat. Why choke him when he can just be left to choke on his own blood? The Hunter is scared of him dying, wants to save him, but he won’t be able to counteract poison with will alone. Lux is still going to die.

“I-I don’t want, want you t’have me,” The warlock whimpers. “I, wanna, hhhh, die alone. Le-eave me alone.”

The Hunter is about to grip tighter and cut off his air, he knows; the hand in his hair has already twisted to make him gasp, and he can feel the Hunter’s muscles coil up in his fury. But more blood bubbles up in his throat, and this time it feels like he’s clogged all the way from his lungs to his tongue, and shudders turn into involuntary, full-body struggling. He can’t breathe. All the maneuvering that might help him breathe a bit longer, the borrowed time, it’s all used up. Lux can feel himself being bent forward to try and let gravity do the work again, can feel hands on his chest and throat, but the blood stays, and air doesn’t come. His lungs burn, his throat aches, he’s scared, so scared… but the darkness swarming around his vision and numbing his body? It’s kind of comforting. The Hunter’s hands are on him, and the big, confident, controlling man can’t do a thing to save his precious little light, to force Lux to stay with him. It feels good to die in an act of rebellion, to know he can’t back out of this and beg and be called good. He’s bad, and he’s proud of it.

Emory is heaving air into his stinging lungs by the time that he gets to Cole’s family’s house. The roads were clogged with cars and ambulances and cop cruisers, people trying to drag bleeding, suffocating warlocks to hospitals and police stations and dumpsters and alleys. But Lux said save Cole, not try to save every half-dead warlock you see along the way. So he ran past it all.

He slams through the door, wheezes his way down the hall, clutching at his chest. The door painted blue with white trim, little clouds on it where Lux painted them with Cole on one of Cole’s sad angry days, it’s left ajar.

Emory pushes it open to see a cop sitting on the bed, hand to Cole’s forehead. The black boy freezes and stares; Colten is alive, but clearly was poisoned like all the other warlocks. The cop isn’t dragging the little boy out of bed, just watching over him.

Coleten looks up at Emory, taking a second to focus, and in a little cracking voice, he asks, “Lux?”

The cop looks up sharply. He seems disappointed to see someone other than Lux. At the name on his uniform, Holt, Emory sighs. Just the only cop Lux has ever expressed that he trusted - Grant.

“Lux isn’t here, I’m sorry, Cole,” Emory says gently, walking in. “Grant… how is he breathing?”

The officer holds up a glass vial, half-empty. “The cure. Antidote. Standard for officers to be given it, give a dose to a warlock before bringing them in. Supposed to keep as many alive as possible, if they comply. I stole extras.”

Emory could faint. A cure. “And Cole? Why’d you start with him? How do you even know him?” Emory kneels beside the bed, checking on Colten’s temperature himself. Not nearly as hot as Lux. If the little boy looked any more stable, Emory would grab Grant and drag him out to bring him to Lux.

“Well, Lux gave me this address, described Cole. Months ago. Promised to kill me if I let anything happen to the kid. If something like this happened, I swore to come help Cole first.”

“Sounds like Lux.” Emory smiles at Colten, who looks downright miserable. He wonders if the boy’s mom and dad are here, if they’re alive.

“Is Lux okay?” The boy squeaks, cheeks still flushed from the fever.

“No. I need to borrow Officer Grant here to come make Lux better. You wanna come with, Cole? I’ll carry you, make sure you have an adult nearby. You can sleep on our couch until you feel up for some chicken noodle soup.”

At the boy’s sleepy nod, Emory scoops him up carefully, and Grant tucks the vial into his pocket. “More in the car,” He explains briefly, then leads the way out to his cruiser.

“It’s okay, Cole, you sit right here, I’m gonna go check on-“

“Who the hell are you?”

Emory startles and looks over toward the bedroom at Grant’s exclamation. Lux should be in there, only Lux.

“Stay right here, Colten,” Instructs Emory quietly. He stands and walks over to the bedroom, starkly aware that he has no weapon and no magic. Grant has to take care of the situation if there’s any threat.

The Hunter. He’s sitting in the bed, holding Lux, looking up at Grant. “What, you’re here to arrest a dead warlock?” The torturer asks, voice rough with anger. He sees Emory and his grip tightens around Lux’s chest. There’s no movement from Lux, not a flinch, not a breath.

“He’s got the cure,” Emory informs, tipping his head toward the cop beside him. He takes a shuddering breath, furious and hardly containing himself, before he adds, “Let go of Lux so I can hold him. If you want to kill me for it after, you can, but he’s not gonna wake up to you.”

The Hunter’s eyes flick to the vial in Grant’s hand, and he lets Lux flop limply onto the mattress, standing away from the bed. “He’s no fun dead,” The torturer comments, and the genuine worry, the fear, can’t be hidden behind the cruel words. Emory doesn’t care what the mindfucker feels as he brushes past and climbs onto the bed to pull Lux into his lap, sit him up, hold him. Lux isn’t cold, but he’s not breathing. If he was too far gone to be saved, he thinks the Hunter would have slaughtered half the town in retribution, so he has to hope that the man’s willingness to step aside is a good sign.

Grant’s hands are steady as he injects the solution into Lux’s arm. Emory can’t breathe as he waits for any sign of life from his boyfriend.

“I could help if I had my magic,” The Hunter contributes from the sidelines. “Give me that antidote. My magic will recover quickly. I’ll help him take his first breath. Or watch him die, I guess - he’s close.”

“Give it to him,” Emory growls, tucking his cheek against Lux’s. This can’t be the last hug he gives his Curls.

The Hunter flexes his magic as soon as he can, a rush of energy filling the room. Emory holds Lux as tight as he can when the mindfucker sits on the bed to face Lux, placing his hands on the warlock’s chest.

Magic is pressed into Lux, something shifting inside. “Vanishing the blood,” The Hunter explains as he concentrates. “From his lungs. Breathe, little one, breathe for me.”

Emory is too busy listening with his fingertips and forearms and cheek pressed against Lux for a breath, a cough, a heartbeat. Lux jolts, and shudders, and then draws a deep, ragged breath. A raw sob tears out of him as he chokes down air, hands coming up to weakly pull at Emory’s arms around him; he whines, shakes, struggles to breathe, blinded by tears.

“Lux, Lux! Honey, it’s okay, I’ve got you. I can’t let go, I’m so sorry, I need to hold on.” The Hunter is too close, Emory can’t let Lux be yanked away and dragged off to be hurt. “Curls, it’s me, I’m right here, you’re okay. I love you, I love you, it’s okay.”

The panicked sounds dissolve into whimpers in between jagged gasps. Emory can tell when Lux opens his eyes and blinks away the tears to see the Hunter, because his boyfriend jerks and tries to shove himself backward, pulling at Emory’s arms now to pull them tighter around himself.

No more blood drips onto Emory’s arms, and that’s a blessing.

“Welcome back, sweet one,” The mindfucker grins, and Emory’s had it.

“Grant, put your gun to that fucker’s head and make him leave.”

The Hunter laughs, deep and warm; Lux trembles like the sound vibrates straight through him and grates against his bones. “I’ll leave. Let my light recover. I’ll check in on him later.” The man tries to tap a finger to Lux’s temple in a promise to invade his mind later, but Emory knocks the hand away. The mindfucker’s eyes go to Emory in silent annoyance.

“Cole,” Lux chokes out, and Emory notices the boy standing in the doorway, pale as a ghost and looking like he’s staring up at his worst nightmare. The Hunter turns and stands, taking a step toward him in interest; Grant grabs Colten under the arms and hauls him up, holding him away from the Hunter.

“D-don’t, don’t,” Sobs Lux. Emory doesn’t think Lux even knows his magic is crackling against his arms, recovering enough to be used. It doesn’t occur to him to use it.

The Hunter smiles at Cole, who clings to the cop holding him. “Don’t worry, my light. I won’t take him again. Not without you, at least! You are so sweet when you have someone to protect, so obedient.”

“Ple-ease…” Lux’s begging subsides as Emory shushes him gently, rubs his arms and stomach over his sweaty shirt to soothe him. The Hunter steps away from Colten.

“Just go so he can rest.” Grant meets the Hunter’s eyes as he tucks Colten’s face to his shoulder so he doesn’t have to see the man that scares him so badly. “You probably kept him alive long enough so we could save him. He’ll remember that.” It hurts, sometimes, catering to both sides.

“Yes, he will.” The mindfucker looks fondly over to his favorite warlock, then sighs. He turns to leave. “Watch his breathing,” He offers as parting words, then walks out. The front door closes after a few tense moments.

Colten pushes against Grant’s chest until he’s put down, and Lux stiffly pries himself from Emory’s embrace. “C’mere,” He says to the youngest, patting the bed and opening his arms for a hug. Cole climbs up onto the bed and buries himself into his friend, mumbling incoherent words against Lux’s chest. The little boy doesn’t mind the blood staining the shirt, or his friend’s skin; he never has.

“Did you bring Officer Grant and Emory here, Cole?” Lux asks, tone light as he ruffles Colten’s hair. “Did you save me?”

“N-no,” The boy bemoans sadly. “I’m, I’m sick. Emory carried me.”

“You carried Emory?” Lux squeezes Cole’s upper arm gently. “Your muscles, oh, they got so big! How’d you do that?”

“Stop,” Whines Cole, tucking himself closer. Lux rubs his back and stops teasing him, quits poking fun.

“You two should lie down and rest.” Emory guides them to lean over and lie on their sides, pulling the blanket over them. Cole stays huddled up against Lux. “I’m gonna watch over you, okay? And Grant is gonna go help other warlocks.”

“I could use some help,” The cop interrupts. “Save twice as many.”

Emory hesitates, then rubs Lux’s shoulder over the covers. “Okay. Lux, honey? You okay being alone, watching out for Cole?”

“Yeah,” Lux answers, scrunching his shoulder up by his ear. He doesn’t want to be alone, he’s scared and exhausted and hurting, but there are people dying just like he was, and they need Emory more right now. “I’ll protect Cole.”

“I’ll be back soon, okay, Curls? ‘kay, Cole?” Emory pats Colten’s shoulder, frowning at the flinch. Lux knows better than anyone what Cole needs, what will help with that.

“Em, sa-, save my friends,” Lux whispers, guilty for asking. “An-, Anders first. Resistance leaders. Then, hhnnn, Alex, and Kiara and Eli and, nnnh, and then, kids in safehouses.”

“I will.” Emory leans down to press a kiss to Lux’s cheek. He knows how hard that was for Lux to ask, to put the lives of his friends above those of strangers who don’t deserve to die.

Emory will take on that guilt. If he’s too late, if people die before he gets to them, he’ll take that on himself. Lux has suffered enough for one day.

#whump #drabble #mine #lux #the hunter #colten #grant holt #emory #blood #choking #poisoned #panic #afraid #caregiver #touch #losing consciousness #creepy #death tw #past trauma

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ayazuri · 4 years

Text

i’ll be there when you bleed

Words: 911

Summary: ‘’ There’s hotness on his tongue, in his mouth, and the scent is everywhere and he’s in the center of it all, he can’t breathe, can’t stand, squeezes the smaller body tighter. There’s buzz in his ears and pounding in his head and the scent is so sweet, so raw and so mesmerizing...’’

Warnings: Angst (as 90% of things I write, really). But nobody dies. Yikes!

A/N: So the story begins with the ask and @grelleswife answer to that ask. The ask was about blood drinking and I’m really sorry, I wanted to put nice link to that ask but I’m especially dumb today or tumblr jus doesn’t want to cooperate with me (so if anyone knows what I’m talking about and can share a link to the ask, please do it!) Anyway.

Ever since I’ve read that ask I couldn’t stop thinking about blood drinking topic. And I had this very specific scene in my brain, not really connected with anything, with any story I’m writing right now, any story I have in plans. Just... this one scene. So I sat down and wrote it. Wouldn’t call it canon compliant because we don’t know a great deal about Vanitas, we don’t know if something like that will ever happen. I guess we’ll have to see.

I’m probably gonna put this piece on ao3 too, but first I have to decide if it stays as a stand-alone or if it becomes a part of some longer story.

(Also, thank you @miroir-du-ciel because thanks to you vnc is permanently in my head <3)

Hope you enjoy the piece! Love you guys! xoxo

He’s shaking. Or maybe it’s Vanitas. Or maybe both of them. It doesn’t matter because Noe’s teeth are bare inches from Vanitas’ throat, closer and closer, they touch the skin. Just a little more pressure and his fangs sink in deep. Vanitas gasps and moans, and Noe’s insides turn at this. There’s hotness on his tongue, in his mouth, and the scent is everywhere and he’s in the center of it all, he can’t breathe, can’t stand, squeezes the smaller body tighter. There’s buzz in his ears and pounding in his head and the scent is so sweet, so raw and so mesmerizing, enveloping him, and the taste so divine that no words can describe it.

Euphoria. The divine state.

But then, images explode in his head. All at once. In no particular order, without any logic to them. The house on fire, smell of burning wood and flesh and blood. Red eyes glowing in the darkness. Blood, blood, blood. Crimson everywhere. Swords and scythes and clang of metal, blood and severed limbs and heads. Fear and disgust, and hate, so much hate. Catacombs, corridors and more darkness. Trainings, fighting, weapons that do not fit in small hands of a child, too heavy, too deadly. Potions and injections that make the world go sharp and clear. The madman with a twist in his eyes and wide smile on his face. Millions of cuts and slices, wounds opening and closing, closing and opening, again and again, over and over. Gashes being torn open, and bruises and scars. Tubes and needles, and medical clothes that used to be white but now are eternally drenched in blood. Faces and names, too many to count, too few to forget, and screams, eternal howling of damned souls, rivers of blood and oceans of tears. Pain, misery and death. Broken bodies and broken everything, with only one wish left – to die. And then destruction, and an angel, but no, it’s the devil, and she takes them away, promises that from now on everything will be alright, but it isn’t and never will be, because she’s one of them, she’s of the kind that destroyed his life and lives of so many more, but the boy loves her, adores her and he, he just watches with spite and hates, hates, hates. Hates the burn in his right wrist where the mark is engraved, hates how his hand looks like broken glass, because his whole body is broken not only his right hand. (His whole body should look like broken glass.) And somewhere along the lines, he swears he’s going to protect the boy and take them as far away as possible, but he fails and it’s all his fault, the boy is dead and he couldn’t save him, so he’s alone with this cursed book in right hand and the death on his left, and he swears he will take revenge on her, make her life a living hell, he will make it right. And he knows he’s a failure, and he knows that he has to be alone because anyone who gets close to him dies. And it’s always his fault, he's cursed, and they all died because of him – his family, the boy. The world burns around him, in the scorching heat of hate and misery, desperation and spite and self-loathing. He’s numb and hollow, sick and rotten to the bone…

And there are hands on him, yanking his head backwards, tearing him away, and he lets go, fangs sliding out of the soft flesh. He wants to scream but the sound dies on his lips, so he cries instead because the feeling is unbearable. It burns his insides leaving only ashes. He's vaguely aware of the other's body in his embrace. Vanitas is still there, right in his arms, unmoving, slack and ice-cold, and Noe's heart stops because what if Vanitas is dead, what if Noe took too much... But then Vanitas takes a deep breath, desperately as if he has been underwater a bit too long, and starts shaking too. He sobs, or so Noe supposes for his head is still full of buzzing noise and throbbing pain and it's still hard to get down on earth again. It’s hard to get things right. Noe opens his mouth, trying to squeeze out some words but Vanitas cuts him off.

'Don't...' he rasps, voice uneven and barely audible. 'Don't ever talk to me of the things you saw... Don't ask questions and don't offer any comfort or else I...' at that his voice breaks and fades into silence, but Noe knows better than to talk. So he waits, unable to get rid of the pain and tears and images in his head. (They are forever ingrained in his brain now.) Vanitas' body vibrates against him when he gasps for air. And when he speaks again, finishes his sentence, it's quiet, scared and sounds more like a plea than a threat.

'Or else I'l kill you.'

And Noe knows, he's heard it all before. He holds Vanitas just a tiny bit tighter, just a bit closer, lets their tears run. Hopes it's enough in the absence of words.

#vanitas no carte #vnc #vanoe #vaninoe #the case study of vanitas #les memoires de vanitas #azuwrites #myfics

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howlingheartdemigod · 4 years

Note

beau is kidnapped and tortured by trent ikihon (because she is part of the cobalt soul and close to caleb maybe?). yasha loses it when she comes back to the mighty nein to find that beaus been kidnapped. bonus points if you include caleb losing his shit as well because his abuser has his little sister. (and if you want to go REAL angsty: “you have to convince the soul to come back to its body” “that’s fine! of course beau will want to come back! right?!......right?”)

this took a while and i don’t know if i’m really not happy with it or if i’ve been staring at it too long.

TW depictions of torture, injections, major character death, depictions of violence

title from [-319] of @asoftersea

firm and unshakable belief

Caleb does a head count after the fight, soaked with rain and mud. It’s a habit, but it feels especially necessary this time. He does a head count as the magic of the teleport fades away. It takes him a second, in his pain addled state, to realize he is one short. Nott, one, Jester, two, Caduceus, three, Fjord, four, Yasha, five, Beau…

“Beauregard!?” Caleb hauled himself to his feet. His friends had all been blasted this way and that. Jester was already hobbling to a bleeding Fjord’s side. They didn’t see yet, see that they were a member short yet again. “Beauregard!” He screamed out, hoping she’s just been flung farther from the explosion, from Astrid's spell, from his mistakes.

The response of the trees around them was to continue to creek. The wind rustled the grasses, and picked up some of the ash. No one called back.

He looked to Jester, who had a hand over Fjord’s bleeding stomach, who’s wide eyes were starting to search along with his. He looked to Nott, who was pulling herself upright, who was looking around, panic on her face, the fear of losing her family bubbling up yet again.

He looked to Yasha, who was pulling herself from the ground, who was looking at him with pain in her eyes, scared of what he was going to say.

“Caleb?” Caduceus’ voice called out, nearer than Caleb had realized. A large hand set softly on his shoulder. "Did you see what happened?”

Caleb’s eyes scanned the charred earth, the clearing they’d been camping in nearly unrecognizable, still smouldering. His eyes scanned the trees, some branches charred, but no longer burning. His eyes scanned the clouded sky, wishing for some kind of answer to a prayer he couldn’t even put in words within his mind.

None came.

Caleb dropped his eyes to Yasha, swallowing. “They took her.” He rasped. “Ikithon has Beau.”

The silence rang out, as the Nein felt the pain of loss, yet again.

Beau woke up strapped to a chair, because of course this mother fucker was that fucking cliche. She took a sharp breath in, keeping her eyes shut as she ran her mind through what she knew. They’d been fighting Ikithon and lackeys. They’d been winning. Caleb was struggling. Then, boom, then yank, then woosh, then darkness. Then sleep, but Beau didn’t wake rested.

“Morning, little monk.” The voice was only slightly familiar. Accented like Caleb’s, but not Ikithon. She considered keeping her eyes shut, her head down, but she knew she was made, and figured pissing off her captor, maybe wasn’t a good idea.

Tilting her head back, popping her jaw, Beau took a long breath, then fixed her eyes on the hulking form across from her. The man was tall, bulky, older than Caleb had remembered. Which made sense, of course.

It’d been over a decade since Caleb had seen his old friend. She still recognized him. His dark hair was cropped tighter, his eyes lined with small wrinkles, his skin was scared and calloused. It was easier to tell in this light, than when they’d seen him before. She hadn’t paid enough attention then. Had no choice now. “Eodwulf, right?” She stretched a little at the waist, bonds holding her arms and legs tight, and gave him a once over. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be quite so much of a bitch.”

The back hand she received was unexpected, seeing as he’d just been on the other side of the room. And fuck, did it hurt. ‘Isn’t this guy supposed to be a wizard?’

“You’re not going to say anything unless you’re asked a question.” He told her face all too close for Beau’s liking. She spit a little, the taste of blood in her mouth from where her cheek had broken on her teeth sharp and biting.

“Big man likes to hit things, but wouldn’t stand a chance if I wasn’t tied up.” she muttered, glaring eyes looking back at him. The blow to the stomach was less impressive. There had been magic behind the first, she figured. She hoped. He wouldn’t want to blow through spells hurting her. She wasn’t worth that. She knew that.

“Only if you’re asked a question.” She heard the creaking of a door behind her, echoing in the circular stone space, bouncing off the high ceiling.

“And believe me,” a softer voice, female, accent clear and familiar. Astrid moved around, eyes fixed on Beau all the way, running her hands over a blue cloth, thumb tracing careful detailing. “We have many, many questions, expositor.”

Astrid threw Beau’s own belt at her, Beau flinched minutely, watching it fall to her lap, the carefully gold embroidered prayer to Ioun glinting in the dim light.

Beau lifted her eyes to Astrid, jaw clenched. “Well, this is gonna be shit for you, isn’t it?”

Yasha felt numb. Felt cold. This was all her fault. That kept ringing around her head. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. She stared at the ground, where the skin gorger dug into the ground next to her, and shuddered. After everything, after fighting inside of her own mind, to get back, to win the fight, and turn around and loose Beau. It felt like something was conspiring against her. She lifted her eyes to where Jester was setting out her scrying ritual, where Nott was whispering to Fjord quietly, who was responding quickly, low voice too distant for her to hear. She looked over to Caduceus, who was distracting himself reorganizing his pack. She saw him linger on something, then continue moving, putting things carefully away, nodding a bit. She pulled her eyes away, moving them to Caleb. Caleb who hadn’t spoken since sinking to the ground where he stood, Caleb who looked like Yasha felt. Caleb, who, she was sure, felt wracked with guilt about this.

‘Good,’ The quiet, cruel part of her mind called out. ‘His people did this. His people took her from you.’

‘No.’ Yasha’s head shook. ‘We are his people. We are his people and he is ours. And we will get her back.’

Yasha lifted her eyes back to Caleb, her gaze catching his. He held his gaze steady, an apology behind them. Yasha, trembling from the rage still burning below the surface, took a careful breath, and forced herself to move. She dragged herself across the space, fighting against the part of her that wanted to stay still until she knew where to go, until she knew who to kill. She dropped down next to Caleb, eyes on the ground. Skin Gorger laid next to her, and she let her fingers dig into the mud, the scent of rain thick in the air, even with the clouds no longer pouring.

“You got me back. We get her back.” Yasha said, nodding a bit. “Right?”

The silence stretched on so long Yasha feared it wouldn’t end. A hand fell on her shoulder. She looked over to the wizard, squinting. His eyes were still hazed over, his skin pale, but there was a conviction in the set of his jaw, the furrow of his brow. “We get her back.”

Yasha nodded, and looked back to Jester as she settled down, eyes closed to cast her scry, to find Beau, so they could go and bring her home.

“You’re the idiots who knowingly kidnapped a member of the Cobalt Soul.” Beau’s voice was sharp, taunting, even through the shallow breaths she was now taking. Astrid was good with a blade, it turned out, good at making careful shallow cuts, inflicting pain but not letting Beau get so hurt she blacked out. Can’t interrogate an unconscious person. Beau snarled at her. “Sucks for you you didn’t realize part of the training is knowing when to keep our mouths shut.”

Astrid’s face twisted with anger, and her knife plunged into Beau’s side, deeper than she’d gone before. “If only you would remember that training.” She replied, twisting the blade, before pulling back at the sound of Beau’s cry. “This isn’t working.” Astrid clearly wasn’t addressing her, but Beau let out a broken laugh anyway.

“No shit.” She snapped, head tilting back.

Astrid let out an annoyed shout, slashing Beau across the cheek. Beau hissed, head tilting with the knife, keeping it from cutting to deep. She was starting to learn the patterns, the way Astrid held a blade. Hopefully it would be enough to keep from bleeding out for a while. “Explain or suffer. Why were you working with the Bright Queen? What elements of crick magic have you seen? What does Bren know?" She punctuated each question with a thumb dug into a cut on Beau arm, digging in, pulling the flesh. Beau looked up at the ceiling, seeing spots.

After Beau let out a broken cry of pain. After Astrid let up, Beau met her gaze. "I don't know anyone named Bren." She managed through gritted teeth. "Fuck you."

Astrid swung back, but before she could slash Beau again, the door behind her swished open, sending the room into near silence.

Without even looking, Beau knew that bastard had entered the room. The energy shifted, Astrid going from proud and angry, to submissive, hands at her sides, blade tucked away, eyes wide. Childlike. It made her sick, seeing this woman, a woman Caleb cared about despite how truly garbage she was, looking up like a kid, idolizing and naive.

The cuts on Beau's body reminded her that Astrid was anything but innocent. As Ikithon rounded the chair, his eyes were fixed on Beau, frowning, scowling. Pride welled up in Beau, looking at his sour face, knowing she'd been the one to crack his composure.

"Enough then." He said, squinting at him. "Hurting you isn't working. Well have to find some other motivation." He looked to Astrid. "make yourself appear as that… tiefling."

Astrid, without hesitation, moved her hands to cast, then before Beau stood Jester. No, no not Jester, too still, too angry. Astrid. It was just Astrid wearing Jester's face. Beau swallowed, dropping her gaze.

"Yes this will do." She heard Ikithon say. "look here, Expositor, I want to show you something." When Beau did not respond she felt her jaw gripped from behind, Eodwulf pulling her head back, forcing her compliance. "better." Ikithon's smile appeared, twisted and cold. "Now, let's begin." With that, he produced a knife,and dug it into Jester's stomach, and Beau, unable to stop herself, let out a scream.

Jester’s eyes shot open, hands pressing flat into the ground. Caleb scanned her as she took a sharp breath in, eyes scanning them all. “He has her.” She said, eyes on Caleb. “She’s in a room, round, tall ceiling.” Jester’s breath caught. “She’s all hurt, they’re cutting her up.” Caleb wanted to comfort Jester, wanting to put a hand on her shoulder. Wanted to help somehow. He couldn’t. He felt like he was back in that room, felt like he was trapped again. Tied down, knives and crystals near by, being told he was weak if he couldn’t keep it together. He took a sharp breath, eyes dropping. The sound of the voices around him started to blot out, sounding like he was under water. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He felt so cold, so freezing. The stone beneath his feet was was cold.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he yanked back, eyes lifting to meet Fjord’s. “Hey, Caleb. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Fjord’s voice was low, was careful. Caleb took a breath, eyes lifting, flicking around. “Do you know where she is?”

Caleb nodded.

“Can you get us there?” Yasha spoke up, hand on her blade.

Caleb met her eye, the conviction there, and nodded.

Yasha nodded. “Let’s go then.”

Caleb started drawing a teleportation circle, brow furrowed, and he could hear arguments about rest, and spells, and how hurt everyone already was. He could not be bothered to listen. Fuck all of that. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if he didn’t hold on to his family. He looked up, a brief pause in his scrawling, and caught Yasha’s eye again. She was standing, arms crossed, looking entirely unamused by Fjords concerns of working themselves to death when she glanced over. Caleb swallowed, then gave a nod, then went back to work. They had to get her back. There was no choice about it.

After Astrid's third one, Beau wondered if too many healing potions could mess up a person. She always got a tickle in her throat after. Not that they'd given her one, the opposite in fact. Apparently Eodwulf was getting bored and started making occasional cuts to her body, taking up Astrid's previous place. Beau's breath was coming shallow, and she was starting to feel really properly shit. She let her head tilt back, brow furrowing.

"Face forward!" Ikithon's voice was sharp, authoritative.

Beau gritted her teeth, and bit her cheek. She already had blood in her mouth, but she managed to break skin again. She swirled it around in her mouth and lifted her head, then spat the blood in his face.

Ikithon recoiled, letting out a noise of disgust. He paced away, digging a cloth from his pocket to wipe the blood away. "It doesn't have to be like this Beauregard. I'm not an animal. You're charged with treason, but it doesn't need to get worse." He looked down to her, squinting at him. “I will do what I can to make this easier for you.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She shot back. “There’s nothing you can do to make me talk. And You’re gonna be so murdered by the Soul and I’m gonna haunt you and laugh.” She told him, flashing a bloody smile. She felt another slash into her side.

Ikithon looked over to Astrid and hummed a little. “Then we’ll have to let you bleed out here.” He pulled a blade from his robes, and plunged it into Beau’s stomach. Beau pulled a gasp, hunching over. A hand slammed over her mouth, shoving a rag, coated in a bitter tasting liquid, farther than she could spit out easily, and a tie wrapped and tied it in place. Beau scowled, trying to shove the rag forward against the tie. She felt a pinch on her side, and looked over in time to see Eodwulf pocketing a syringe. She caught his gaze for a second, and searched for something more than apathy behind his eyes. In the moment she thought she may have seen a glimmer of it, he turned away, the others following quickly. She glared at Ikithon as he left, a horrible smile on his face.

She dropped her eyes, swallowing around the rag, and closing her eyes as the door shut. She took a broken sigh through the cloth jammed in her mouth, eyes pooling with tears. She didn’t know she could let anymore fall. She’d watched each of her friends tortured near to death. She couldn’t get the vision of Caleb, crystals jammed deep into his skin, into his sides, into his neck, into his face, bleeding on the ground, out of her mind. She took a careful breath and pushed it away, but it was quickly replaced by the image of Yasha, brave strong Yasha, with a blade in her stomach, another poised at her throat. Ikithon was good at causing cuts that were just capable of being healed up. Just short of killing his precious wizard who allowed herself to be tortured for him, to hurt another. Beau opened her eyes to push the thoughts aside, trying to breathe, trying to focus. But Yasha still laid dying. She blinked, head shaking a little, but the only thing that changed were the dark tendrils coming off of Yasha’s body as she stared, rasping for breath at Beau.

“You didn’t save me.” It accused. The specter rose, reaching to brush Beau’s hair back from her face. “You didn’t do enough to try.” The darkness swelled over Yasha’s shoulders, a feeling of burning sweetness welled up in Beau, and as the shadow crashed over her, she screamed.

It took them a few hours, hours of panic and pain, hours of convincing enough people to convince enough people that murdering a high level member of the Cerberus Assembly was necessary. Hours of infiltrating. Hours of being surprised when Dairon, who they had not known to be in Rexxentrum, stepped out of shadows to join them. Hours of incapacitating and killing. Just one moment, of Caleb lifting a hand, centering it on an injured Archmage, and unleashing fiery death. It took them a while, but they checked the right corridor, opened the right door, and found Beauregard.

They all held their breath for a moment, Jester dropped in front of the chair, searching for a pulse, Yasha kneeled at Beau’s right, eyes flicking from watching Jester to watching Beau. Jester pulled in a sharp breath, eyes pooling with tears. Yasha’s hand fell softy to Beau’s wrist, unbinding it, watching it try and slip and fall. She caught it carefully, pressing her thumb to a place where a beat refused to appear. Yasha let out a broken breath, gaze dropping. “Can you do anything?” she asked softly, looking to Jester. “Can you bring her back?”

“Back?” Nott repeated, fingers twitching for a flask hidden at her hip.

Caleb crumpled feet behind Yasha, head shaking. He started cursing in Zemnian, fouler language than Yasha would care to learn from him.

“I don’t…” Jester’s voice cracked a little. “I don’t know if I…” She took a breath, and started muttering holding her symbol. Her eyes flicked open a moment later, looking to Caduceus. “I can’t. I don’t. He says I don’t have what I need, but you can.”

The Firbolg had been leaning on Fjord, holding a wound at his side, slowly healing from a quickly downed potion. He took a breath, nodding a bit He straightened up, moving to support himself on his staff instead. “I think you’re right. The Wildmother… She sent something new for me recently. But I can’t cast it until tomorrow.”

“Then lets get her out of here, shall we?” Fjord asked, dropping to a knee next to Jester, starting to untie Beau. Dairon helped, moving to untie the bind behind her head, undo the chains at her back. Yasha reached a shaking hand, and pulled the blade from her stomach, throwing it down. The metal clattered against the floor, the blood on it still thin enough to splatter. Yasha wanted to rage. Wanted to unfurl her terrible wings and kill. She wanted to tear limb from limb those who’d done this. she nearly did. She nearly ran to where she knew agents of the Soul were rounding up Vollstrecker in the building and go through them like a dog killing rats. The idea of letting them survive this, of giving them a pass because it was just what they were ordered made her want to rip them to bits so small they wouldn’t be found again.

As Beau’s body slumped she reached to catch her, supporting her head. Death would have to wait. They needed to get Beau home, wherever that was anymore. They needed to get her home. They needed to try.

Yasha looked to Caleb, as she cradled Beau like she was something too precious to put words to. “Where can we go?” she asked. “Where is safe?”

She could see Caleb’s face flicker. She could see him want to say nowhere. She could see him want to return to fear and cruelty. She watched him push it aside. “We can go to Nicodranas.” He said, wiping his hands on his robes, starting to pat pockets to search for something. He started scribbling a circle without hesitation, brow pinched.

Yasha looked to Caduceus, taking a breath. “How does it work?” she asked, trying to ignore the way she felt so cold, the way she felt so limp.

Caduceus took a breath, dropping to brush Beau’s hair back. Yasha almost pulled away, kept him from causing her to rot away as he had with others slain. She managed to keep her paranoia at bay. He looked at Beau fondly.

“You have to convince the soul to come back.” He explained. “You have to convince them to return to this side of the veil.”

Jester broken the silence that occured, voice bright. “That’s fine! Of course Beau will want to come back, right?” Her gaze searched around, and found many eyes not willing to meet her own. “Right!?” She stressed.

The silence spoke for itself, the air thick, as Caleb frantically scribbled, as Yasha watched Beau wishing she would sit up and say something snarky, as they waited, waited to see if the could tell Jester she was right after all.

To say that Caleb was familiar with death felt, to him, like an understatement. Caleb wasn’t just familiar with death. He and death had an intimate, deep relationship. It would sit on his shoulder often, or lay an arm around him, or cloak him with its shadow. It was a near constant, in his life and in his work. A consequence of his youthful naivete. He was beyond familiar with death, he knew it well.

That didn’t, of course, mean much to death. Many knew death. Many found it visiting their home too often. Sometimes unexpected. Sometimes months later than. He knew some practically courted death, standing on cliff edges, begging it near. He wasn’t quite like that. He wouldn’t call it, but it’s name came from him often, a name he did not, could not, know. He called it when he conjured flame, when he reduced others to ash. He called it when he thought of his mother and father. He called it when he felt the pain of his life well up like a poison, when he nearly wanted it to take him. When he nearly took the dark gloved hand and walked away with it.

He’d never called it’s name in prayer. He’d never called any name in prayer. He knew the Raven Queen was a busy God. They all were, he assumed. He knew the Raven Queen wouldn’t care about his friend, about the life she was taking. It was her job. It wasn’t something she did in cruelty. She shepherded them, taking them to the next place. She didn’t, he believed, do the moment of killing. She did not reap the souls. That was some other figure. Some other entity. Following her commands, taking those who needed to leave this plane to her, to move them elsewhere.

Caleb didn’t call names in prayer. He didn’t know what that would look like. Jester’s were always muttering, full of giggles. Caduceus would speak in low tones, receiving answers on winds. Yasha always seemed to just go stand in the rain, something shouting at the clouds. Caleb didn’t know how to pray to the entity of death. Didn’t know what name to call, didn’t know what words to say. Sitting in a bedroom of the Lavish Chateau, Caleb did not know what words to say. He knew he would need to appeal to Beauregard herself the next day. But that didn’t feel like enough. He moved slowly, emptying his pockets, sorting his components, organizing them out. He swallowed, then started packing them up again, methodically, carefully, ensuring everything was there like one would sharpen a dagger, ensuring it would cut cleanly. He took a breath, looking out the window, searching the horizon for answers. He found none. So he dropped his eyes, snapped his cat to existence next to him, and spoke.

“Hello, uh… You took a friend of mine today. Tomorrow we are going to try and bring her back. We… Well, you see, we need her. She is the best of us, in ways she does not know. She is the most… she is the first person who knew all I’ve done, and never once faltered in her faith of me. She is… She is my sister. I never had one before. I didn’t know I needed one,but I do. I need her back. And I know you can make no promises. I know you can give nothing that can not be, uh, taken away again through our own stupidity. But, well… Just don’t take her quite yet, if you could. Delay. Walk quite slowly, so she may hear us as we call. Let me call my sister back. I would promise you the same, if I could.”

Caleb went quiet, keeping his eyes down, letting them flick to Frumpkin, who mewed and butted against his leg. He let the words fade, thinking how very stupid it was to speak to someone who could not reply.

A caw from the window lifted his gaze and he spotted it. A large, too large, black bird spreading its wings and fluttering away. Something drifted to the slowly down behind it, and Caleb pushed up to catch it an inch from the floor. In his hand was a single feather of the raven. Caleb swallowed, and went to join the vigil over his fallen friend, hoping he could take the visit and the gift as a promise.

Yasha carried Beau to the Circle Caduceus had drawn. He, it seemed, was the only one who’d slept right. Who’d slept well enough. For good reason, of course. She set Beau carefully in the middle of the runes, swallowing. Caduceus had carefully explained what they must do, told them all what was necessary, how to make this work.

Dairon had, before he began casting, come to Beau and said a prayer, and anointed her with some kind of oil. They’d looked to Yasha, searching her face. There seemed to be words they wanted to say, that they didn’t say. They gave a nod, then moved to the edge of the room, arms crossing as the others gathered.

Caduceus nodded once Yasha set her down, oh so carefully, and cast the last of it. She felt the energy in the room shift, change. The light seemed, not that of the shaded cloud filled sky outside, but of the dappled sky of a forest. The air smelled of the sea, more strongly, like they stood amidst it, and Caduceus let out a sigh. “alright.” He said. “Who would like to talk to her?”

There was a silence. They all could beg for her back. They all knew they all had something to say. No one wanted to deny another the chance. After a tense, searching pause, Nott moved closer, looking around as though she was checking that it was alright. No one protested. Nott dropped down next to Beau, and cleared her throat. “I, uh, I’m not good with words.” she said, hands working at Beau’s wrist. “But you are. Much better than I am. Who am I kidding, really, a wall is better than I am. But you’re… I need you here, to talk to me. I need you here to tell secrets to. To learn secrets from. To see absolutely no pay off from those secrets, to a frankly annoying level. I mean, come on, Beau...” Nott took a little breath, nodding. Yasha caught a glimpse of the jade bracelet Beau had once traded away for some simple wooden swords, and smiled. “I need you here. We’re better with you here. So come back, and be here for us. There are people here who love you, you asshole. I’m one of ‘em. And I need you here.” Nott swallowed, the look on her face showing she was afraid she’d messed up, then she backed away, sitting at the edge of the circle, flask in hand.

There was a bit of silence, a shift in the air, and then the sound of waves crashing in the far distance. They lapsed back to quiet, everyone running through what they’d like to say, what they’d like to give. Jester searched her sketchbook, Fjord held tight to his symbol of the Wildmother, eyes hazy with worry. She heard a shuffle, and turned to watch Caleb drop next to Beau. Her heart ached to see him so pained, so scared. She swallowed back the feeling that this was all too familiar, in some way. They’d been here before, huddled around someone they loved. Her mind flashed to Molly, who’s goodbye she’d missed, to Caduceus, who Jester had saved so fast one wasn’t needed. They’d done this, but they’d never done this. It was familiar anyway.

Caleb stared at Beau for a moment, taking a small sharp breaths. “We have, uh, both shown that we are bad at… feelings. Talking about them. We are both experts in the field of running away from those, messier parts of ourselves. So, I… I’m struggling to think of the right thing to say.” He put a hand on Beau’s shoulder, giving a squeeze. “I… I believe I once said ‘as much as I am able to have friends, I like you,’ and that was true. That was, at the time, what I believed. I didn’t get to have friends, not really. Until I did. And didn’t have any practice at the time. I didn’t know how to be around others, not well, I didn’t know how to care about others. But you, Beauregard, you took a look at all I laid before you, all the mess I was, I am, and all the worst messy parts of it, and you told me that I do not get to choose who cares for me. I didn’t realize it goes the other way. I did not choose to have you become my family, Beauregard. I didn’t choose for you to become so very important to me, but you did. I didn’t… the burden of family is the burden of loss. It’s the burden of worry. And I didn’t want that in my life. I didn’t believe I needed it. But I do. I need you back. You have become my sister. And the thing I feared the most about that exact risk happened. And I will never forgive myself for that, I don’t believe. But I want… I want to fix this, this one. I want to fix this thing. You asked me to do something for you, once upon a time. I’m asking for you to return the favor, and prove it by coming back. Believe in us, just this once.” He said, voice soft. “Believe in us.”

Caleb lingered as the magic shifted, air light seeming to dim, then grow, then become steady again. Caleb smiled, sad and broken, then pulled away.

There was a moment of silence, of waiting, until Yasha realized no one else was going to speak, so she had to. Yasha moved, kneeling next to Beau, and took her hand. She thought for a while, eyes closing, she searched for something, anything, to help her voice what she needed to say. She looked down at Beau, and smiled. “I… I was lost from you all for a… for a very long time. And I was scared. I was scared that I wouldn’t see you again. Any of you, of course, but mostly you. Beau, I had many moments, when I was… there, when I felt as though the world was all darkness. And then I would sleep. And I would get to dream. And I would sometimes dream of home, sometimes of Zuala. And sometimes of Molly, and his colors. But most often, I would dream of you. You were my solace in that time. I should have told you, you are the reason I survived that. It’s you, Beau. It has been you. It has been looking at you, and knowing that I can’t. But it’s also looking at you now, and knowing I can’t not. It’s very unfair to you, to keep something like that from you. So I… I’m trying. I’m trying to tell you. I have been trying to tell you. I see you Beau, don’t let this be the last of you I see.” Yasha closed her eyes, fingers intertwined with Beaus, and said a silent prayer to the Storm Lord. To push let her come back, if he could help. To save her too.

The storm that had been building outside crackled to life, lighting arcing across the sky, thunder following shortly. Yasha said a silent thanks.

Caduceus’s magic swelled, spinning around them, and Beau lifted from the ground, but Yasha refused to let go. Not this time. She watched Beau’s body, in the beautiful dappled light, arch, the magic stretching along her, until she suddenly dropped, caught by some force just before the ground. Beau settled against the ground without a sound. There was a moment of stillness, then another. Then Beau breathed again, chest rising with a slight rasp. Yasha let out a laugh of pain, and pressed a hand to her cheek, healing her for all she could. Beau’s eyes flicked open, blue searching the space around her. She looked at Yasha, finally, and smiled a little. “Fuck.” she muttered, before Yasha let out a laugh, pulled her close, and kissed her.

As far as deaths went, Beau’s wasn’t the worst. She’d been helped up from the hazy, cloud-coated ground by a dark haired man, with what she was fairly certain was antlers growing from his shoulder. He’d explained, speech broken like he was out of practice, that he was to take her to the raven queen so she could help her along. Beau turned back, looking for her friends. “But we have work left to do.” she said. “I still have to… I still need to… I have people who need me. I have to go back.”

The man’s head tilted, like he was listening to something far off. “We can walk slow. Perhaps they will figure out how to return you.”

Beau had struggled to remember her death. It all went black after the vision of Yasha. She knew she’d been alive at least an hour after that. But she couldn’t remember.

“That is a gift.” The figure’s cloak was shrouded in feathers. It looked pretty dope, really. “They are not good memories. They are hidden for now.”

Beau nodded. She didn’t like it, but it seemed like a weird thing to fight about. They wandered a while longer, the figure pretending he didn’t notice when Beau started dragging her feet even more severely.

“Do you have a name?” Beau asked out of the blue.

He seemed perplexed. “I used to. Most people don’t call me by it now.”

“Can I?” she asked, a wicked smile growing. It would be great to call the grim reaper something like ‘Tom.’

“Maybe. I will let you know.” He said. She couldn’t tell if he thought she was funny. Which annoyed her.

They kept walking. “What happens next?” she asked.

“It depends. It seems your friends will try and save you. I hope they do.”

Beau nodded a bit. “ Yeah. Me too.”

They arrived at the foot of the Raven Queen, her imposing figure, looking down. As she spoke her voice seemed to come from everywhere. “Beauregard Lionette. Your friends are setting up a ritual to save your life. Let us stay awhile and listen to them.” Beau nodded, and they did just that.

Beau’s heart twisted and ached. She couldn’t help but laugh when Nott returned her bracelet. She wanted to sit up and hold Caleb when he called her sister. And when Yasha, voice soft and careful, told her she was what had kept her alive, Beau couldn’t help but feel her breath hitch. And when all was said and done, Beau turned to the Raven Queen and the shrouded figure at her feet. “I have to go back.” she said softly.

The Raven Queen’s visage did not change, but Beau liked to think she smiled. “Then go back.”

Beau looked to the figure for confirmation, and in the most human moment since she’d met him, he smiled, giving a small nod. “Thank you.” she called to him, feeling like he was distant.

“It is my duty.” He replied, then for a moment, he seemed to ponder something. “My name is Vax’ildan. Your brother there, he owes me a feather.”

Beau tried for a moment to make rhyme or reason of that absolutely batshit statement, before she felt herself being pulled. It was a bit like floating, a moment where her soul wasn’t here or there. It just was.

And then she slammed back to her body, with a vague memory of haze, feathers, and the name Vax’ildan etched into the back of her mind, nearly forgotten for the moment. Forgotten because Yasha was kissing her, because, as soon as Yasha pulled back, Caleb was moving to hug her, because the rest of her family was there too. There were more important things than names of shadowy figures. Beau let herself, still hurting, relax into the hold of her family, into their love, relax against where Yasha was holding her tight, and did a quiet headcount, before allowing her eyes to close, assured they were all there, safe, and alive.

#critical role #beauyasha #critrole #my writing #cr2 #tmn #and now for the rolls #nott 14 #Caleb 14 #Yasha natural fucking 20 #DM 15 #honorary-asexual

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godofevrerything · 4 years

Text

Hell Rising Chapter Five: Rana

Click Click Click Click Click

My cell door opened, it's hinges groaning in protest. I didn't even bother looking up. I knew it was Ricker who was in the doorway. The psychopath was the only one who had been coming for the past three months.

"Hello, little lamb. Let's get going! Guess what?" he chirped.

I didn't answer.

"You're going to meet the Admin today! He's going to oversee your procedure."

I froze. "W-what?"

He grinned at me. "The Admin! He's a fantastic man, and extremely intelligent. Now come on, upsie daisy."

He reached out and snatched my arm in a vice like grip. His nails dug into my wrist.

I didn't say anything. If I cried out, he would only smile wider.

He yanked me down the dingy hallway to the lab. We passed Clarita's cell. She looked up and scrambled to her feet when she saw me.

"Rana! Where is he-"

Ricker whirled to her cell door and slammed his hand against the bars. Clarita leapt back in fright, her silver eyes wide.

"Shut up, you filth!" Ricker barked. "You will not speak unless spoken to, understand?!"

Clarita could only stare at him, shaking in terror.

"Leave her alone, Ricker!" I spat. "She didn't do anything wrong!"

Ricker didn't miss a beat. His hand swung back around and his fist slammed into my nose. I staggered back, pain once again flaring up. I could feel my hot blood streaming down my face.

"Shut up." Ricker hissed. "You don't talk to me like that. You're not even worthy of speaking! You're a demon, understand? Do you understand?!"

I raised my head and glared at him defiantly. "Clarita is only twelve. You're scaring her."

He yanked me up by my collar, grinning. "She should be scared. Maybe fear will make her less stupid."

He dropped me to the ground and hit Clarita's cell bars again.

She jumped, tears running down her face.

"Toughen up little birdie. If you think this is scary, you're gonna die. Don't. You're much more useful to us when you're alive. Good blackmail." Ricker snarled.

He gave her a psychotic Cheshire Cat grin and then snatched me up by my hair.

I hissed.

Ricker laughed in sadistic delight and stared walking into down the hallway again, dragging me by my hair. He kept me on the floor, pushing me back down whenever I tried to walk.

He pulled me through a door and into the lab. Finally, I was able to stand.

Not for long, of course. They didn't want me to ever mistake that I was a human.

He shoved me into a chair. It was plush and light blue.

Comfortable.

No, wrong.

They would never want me to feel comfortable.

Click

I looked down.

Cuffs on my wrists.

Ah, so that was the catch.

I swiveled my head around, trying to see what was going on.

"So this is 78."

I looked up.

A tall man came striding out of the darkness, with Ricker a few feet behind him. The man was middle aged, with silver streaked dark hair and cold green eyes.

He bent in front of me and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.

I glared at him. "Let me go."

He chuckled. "So you're not completely broken. Good."

He let go of my chin and circled me, inspecting me like I was a cow on sale.

Ricker stuck to a corner of the room, facing the man, his posture practically begging to be noticed by the man.

The man stopped in front of me and held out his hand. "Welcome to the Facility, Ms.Ishimi. I am the Administrator."

"Ms.Ishimi?" I repeated. "Oh, so now you act like I'm human. After having your dogs beat me and taunt me and inject me with drugs, you act like I'm human. You act like I'm welcomed into some damn paradise. Well I got two words for you. Fu-"

The Administrator's hand slammed into my cheek. I hissed, glaring at him furiously.

"You need to learn how to hold your tongue." he growled. "David, come here."

Ricker nearly sprinted forward, absolute glee on his face.

"Get the machine ready. We'll start off with a small voltage. And let's see if she still has that filthy mouth."

"Yes, sir!" Ricker beamed.

He rushed behind me, laughing slightly. Fear bubbled in my throat.

"What the hell are you going to do? Shock me? Believe me, it won't h-"

Pain

Sharp, blinding, burning pain.

I screamed.

I couldn't see.

Pain

Then just as suddenly as it started, the pain stopped, leaving me blissfully numb.

My eyesight was foggy.

The Admin spoke, his voice sounding far away.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

I raised my head in the direction of his voice. "Screw you and your damn fa-"

Pain

Even harsher than before.

I screamed again, tears pooling in my eyes.

Then it was gone.

"Well?"

I coughed, trying to catch my breath. When I didn't answer, I could practically hear the Admin smirk in victory.

"What a shame." he chuckled. "I didn't think that you'd break so easily. It seems that-"

"Go to hell, you jackass." I spat.

There was a pause.

And then pain.

I lost count of how many times they shocked me. It didn't matter, because suddenly Ricker was dragging me down to my cell again.

He tossed me in, laughing with psychotic glee.

"Don't break tonight, little lamb! Sweet dreams!"

I lay on the ground, listening to the click of his boots fade as he walked down the hallway.

I couldn't even move.

"Rana? Rana, are you unconscious? Rana, wake up!"

Slowly, I raised my head. Everything hurt like hell.

Clarita peered at me through the adjoining bars of her cell.

"I, am okay." I rasped.

My head fell back onto the concrete. I tried to focus on not passing out.

"Rana, Rana you're going to be okay, right? Rana?" Clarita whimpered.

"Yeah." I croaked.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah. Go to-"

Pain flared up in my throat, cutting me off.

"Rana?"

I inhaled, ignoring the burn. "I'll be fine. Go sleep."

"Okay."

I closed my eyes and drifted off.

This continued for months.

I managed to escape a couple of times, but Ricker always dragged me back.

And instead of hurting me, he hurt Clarita.

So I stopped.

I wasn't going to let Clarita suffer because of me. I would protect her.

One day, the Admin came in, with a girl trailing behind him.

She was blonde and blue eyed.

The perfect poster girl for the Admin's perfect world.

He put his hand on the girls shoulder. "This is Darlene, my niece. Say hello, Ms.Ishimi."

I glanced at her.

She looked at me with a mixture of horror and sympathy. She gave me a shaky smile.

I glared at her and she flinched.

The Admin sighed. "It seems that you still haven't learned. Ricker, you know what to do."

And the torture began.

It was a short session, probably because Darlene couldn't stop shaking and was near tears.

And it happened again and again.

But Darlene was not the Admin. I could see the innocence fade from her eyes. She was more stooped every time I saw her. And most noticeably, she shrank away from the Admin.

I felt a bit bad for her.

It was night again.

I leaned against the cell bars, telling Clarita stories of my childhood. She loved them, because they were a way a of giving her the childhood she never had.

"Rana?"

"Hmm?"

"Next time you escape, promise you'll bring me with you."

I tensed. "No."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Because I'm not going to try to escape again." I sighed. "I always get caught and they always hurt you."

"But with our powers combined-"

"No." I said firmly. "It's too risky. You will not get hurt again because of me."

"Please. If you find a way to escape without either of us getting hurt, then take me with you. Please." she whispered.

I sighed. "Okay. If I find a way that's one hundred percent fool proof, then I'll take you."

"Promise me." she demanded.

I stared at her. Her silver eyes were shining with hope.

"Okay, Clarita. I promise."

A month later, I couldn't sleep.

Darlene wasn't at my session, so it was the longest ever, presumably to make up for all of the shortened sessions.

My mind was on my escape. I couldn't escape with Clarita. We'd get caught. But I'd make sure to come back for her.

"Hey."

I jumped.

It was Darlene.

I glared at her. "What the hell do you want? Gonna be my escort to a midnight session?"

She winced. "No. I'm here to help you escape."

I froze.

She grinned at me.

Anger flashed through me.

"Liar." I growled. "How cruel are you, to act like you're going to help me when in reality you're just going to get me tortured even more than usual?"

Her eyes widened. "What? No! No, I want to help you escape. Look, I got your cell door keys!"

She held up the keys, smiling at me timidly.

My mouth dropped open. "How?"

"Just asked the Admin for them. He was more than happy to hand them over. Apparently he thought that I wanted to torture you. Like I'd ever be like that disgusting monster."

I frowned. "And you'll help me?"

She nodded eagerly.

"What's the catch?"

"Well," she drew in a breath. "Take me with you. Like, get me out of this life. Its nothing but a damn masquerade. I free you, and you keep us away from all of this horror. Do we have a deal?"

I stared at her.

I could get out of this hell.

What if we got caught?

I could get out.

What if someone saw us?

I could escape!

What about Clar-

I COULD BE FREE!!!

"Deal."

I looked around the Haven in awe.

There were hundreds of rows of colorful tents and booths set up. And above them, there were windows with gardens attached. The road was soft brown dirt.

And there was so much laughter.

Delighted, happy laughter and chatter.

This place was so...

Happy.

"Hurry up!" Jae called out.

I looked up. Ivan and Darcy were already ahead of me, looking around in wonder. Kai was with them.

I glanced behind me.

Rin was lagging behind, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

I went over and grabbed her hand.

She glanced at me. "Oh, hey hun."

"Just give this place a chance, Sunshine, please? I mean, look around! It's practically a paradise!" I laughed.

"That's the problem." Rin sighed. "It's too happy. Too perfect. Gives me the creeps. Especially Jae. I mean, who goes through all sorts of great lengths to hide this place and then let's strangers in?"

I clucked my tongue. "We're Darcy's friends. She trusts us."

"But Jae only knew Darcy for less than an year. And she just met us. I'm telling you, something doesn't add up."

I sighed. "Not everything has a dark side, Sunshine."

"When the hell did you become so optimistic?" Rin scoffed.

I let go of her hand. "Look, I just want to enjoy something without being in attack mode for once. Is it that hard for you to let me enjoy this place?"

She glared at me. "I'm not holding you back. Go ahead, enjoy this. But believe me, something is going to happen."

I clamped my hands over my ears. "I can't hear you."

"Stop being a child, Rana." Rin snapped at me.

I whirled around. "How about you stop trying to ruin this for me?"

She flinched, but I didn't care.

She'd get over it.

She always did.

I stormed ahead, stepping in place with Darcy. She glanced at me, cradling Sabrina carefully.

"You guys fighting?"

"Yeah." I muttered. "But it doesn't matter. She'll get over it."

Darcy frowned.

"Here we are!" Jae chirped. "Come on in. Watch your step."

Jae led us into a bar. It was old, but charming. The walls were rough wood, and the booths had plump red cushions. Music played from speakers haphazardly put on the walls.

A young man looked up from cleaning glasses at the bar.

He was about Ivan's age, with copper skin and a small gold hoop in his ear.

"Rocco! I got some new people. Meet Rana, Darcy, Ivan and Rin." Jae said.

He looked over us.

I noticed Darcy and Ivan blushing.

And he winked at both of them.

Anger flooded through me. Oh hell no. I would not let my friends be swept up by a player.

"So, Rockie, is it?" I asked sharply.

He frowned at me. "No. It's Rocco. And Jae, why did you bring them here?"

"That's what I'm saying." Rin scoffed.

"They are on the run." Rocco spat.

"Everyone in the Haven is on the run. You and Miri especially." Jae sighed.

Rocco glared at her. "Keep my sister out of this. These people are on a national broadcast. They will get the Haven destroyed. You have to kick them out, right now."

"Wait what?" Darcy yelped.

"Wait, don't we get a say on this? I really don't like the idea of going back out there." Ivan squeaked.

Rocco gave them a sympathetic look. "You just got mixed up with the wrong people, loves."

"Excuse me?" I hissed.

Jae rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to kick them out."

"But-"

"They're staying." Jae snapped. "And that's final."

"You brought new people?"

We turned.

A young girl came into the bar, her arms folded across her chest.

She couldn't have been more than fourteen, with short, frizzy black hair and a fur lined brown bomber jacket.

"Kamira, go back home." Rocco sighed.

"No! What are you doing, Jae? We're almost like sardines in a can. There are too many people here! You can't keep on bringing people in the Haven!"

Jae laughed. "Yeah, sure Miri."

"Don't call me that." Kamira growled.

She whirled to me. "And I know who you are!"

I raised my eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah! You're Namarana Ishimi. You are the first person to ever break out of the Facility." she gasped.

"Wait, this is Namarana Ishimi?! This girl right here?!" Rocco yelped.

"Yeah? That's me." I snorted.

Rocco stared at me in amazement. I noticed some people were looking over at me. And then more and more people. They were whispering, sneaking glances at me like they thought I didn't notice.

I shifted. "What, am I famous or something?"

"Uh, yeah." Jae scoffed. "You're the first person to break out of the Facility. I'd say you're pretty damn famous."

"You mean notorious." Rin sighed. "It's not a good thing."

Rocco seemed to notice Rin for the first time. "Oh, hey dude. You're new too?"

Rin scowled. "Yes, and I'm not a dude."

"Well, you're a guy."

"No," she snapped. "Used to be, but I'm a girl. Simple as that."

Rocco stared her blankly.

Kamira spoke up. "You are really famous. And it's great meeting you, but you'll put the whole Haven in danger."

I sighed. "Well, it's up to Jae to decide if we stay."

"And I say you guys stay." Jae said.

"Fine. But mark my words, this won't end well." Rocco spat.

"Well we don't even want to be here. So don't be so rabid." Rin growled.

"Oh, look who's talking. You're acting like wild animal." Rocco sneered.

"One, don't talk to her like that." I snapped. "Two, you are the only one who wants to leave, Rin. Don't drag us into your crap."

"And do not talk to my brother like that. Only me and Jae can talk to him like that." Kamira hissed.

"Guys, stop fighting." Ivan mumbled.

"Yeah, that's enough. We don't have time for a cat fight." Darcy snorted.

Rocco glanced at her. "On a schedule, love?"

She blushed. "Ah, well-"

"Her name is Darcy." I snapped.

He rolled his eyes at me, and I glared daggers at him.

"Alright, enough of that. Let's go. I gotta show you guys around." Jae interrupted. "And Kamira, you ought to go back to training."

Kamira sighed. "Yeah, fine."

She tossed us a suspicious look and strode our of the bar. Rocco turned to the shelf on the wall, aggressively cleaning the shot glasses.

Jae more or less shoved us all out of the bar, despite Darcy's yelps. She ignored Ivan and Darcy glancing back at Rocco, like Rocco ignored them.

Jae led us down the dirt paths, pointing out certain booths.

The tents were stocked with everything from food to sleeping bags. They were all colorful.

"Is there a meaning to the tents colors?" I asked.

Jae grinned. "Glad you asked. So the booths are all color coded. They're the colors of the rainbow. Each color means a different category of items. Like, red is the medical supplies. The red tents sell anything from bandages, to defibrillators."

"Defibrillators?" Ivan repeated.

A chill ran up my spine. "Are defibrillators necessary? I mean, surely you don't have to shock people."

"We do if they had a heart attack."

"Why would people get a heart attack here?" Darcy yelped.

"Maybe because this place isn't damn safe." Rin called out.

"Rin, that's enough." I growled.

We glared at each other.

"Well, people get heart attacks. It's what happens sometimes. Not something we can stop." Jae shrugged.

"If you paid attention to what they need, then they could be prevented." Rin scoffed.

"Rin." I hissed.

"We do pay attention." Jae said. "But heart attacks aren't something we can stop. If we could, we would."

"You wouldn't. Be-"

"Rin! Can you just shut up?!" I yelled. "Stop being an ass and look around you! People are happy here!"

"That's not right!" Rin yelled. "People shouldn't be this happy."

Her hands were sparking.

But for once, I didn't care.

"Just because your life has been awful doesn't mean that people can't be happy! Not their fault your mom was dumb enough to get roasted!" I yelled.

Rin froze. She stared at me, her eyes wide. Her posture was defensive, body crackling with electricity, but I saw tears in her eyes.

"How dare you?" she whispered. "How dare you say that about Amma?"

"Well I wouldn't have sa-"

Lightning slashed in front of her, illuminating the rage on her face.

People jumped in fright.

"You shut your god damn mouth right now, Namarana Ishimi. You don't talk to me. Go and play with your new friend, and have fun when your world crumbles. I know I won't be there."

She flipped me and Jae off and stormed away. My breath was coming out in sharp pants. I could feel tears building in my eyes. I wanted to run after her, but at the same time I saw no reason to go after her.

There was a small crowd around us.

I didn't have to read their minds to know that they were terrified.

"What are you doing?! Piss off!" I snapped, whirling to them.

The crowd scattered.

There was silence.

I swiped the tears away from my eyes roughly. There was no way in hell that I would let myself cry. Especially in front of strangers.

"Come on. Don't you have to finish the damn tour." I demanded to Jae.

Kai whimpered. "Haha?"

I froze.

He stared up at me, his eyes full of tears. He was scared.

I reached down to hug him, and he flinched away.

He was scared of me.

My eyes became blurry.

Darcy spoke up. "Ivan and I will go find a place to stay with the kids. You finish the tour with Jae. Tell us all about it later, okay?"

"Okay." I whispered.

Ivan picked up Kai and put him on his shoulders. "Come on kiddo, let's find a place to crash."

"Empty homes are that way." Jae told them, pointing down the road.

"Thanks, Jae." Darcy mumbled.

I watched them leave with Kai and Sabrina.

I felt sick.

I promised them, and myself, that I would never scare or hurt my kids. Or any of my family.

Not after Clarita.

And I broke that promise.

Jae touched my arm. "You okay?"

I looked at her.

Silver eyes.

A chill went up my back.

I swallowed. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I wiped the fresh tears from my eyes and smiled at her. "Shall we go?"

We walked down the path.

Jae drew in a breath. "So, the Haven is headquarters of the whole operation. As I mentioned earlier, there are other safe places around the country. This is just the biggest and the safest."

" You mentioned that they're all connected?" I said.

"Yeah. All the safe places are connected to each other, all they are all connected to the Haven. It's kind of like a spiderweb, with the Haven in the center." she explained.

"Aren't there safe places in other countries? What about those?"

"Well they work the same way. All countries have safe places, and they all have a headquarters in the middle."

"So there are hundreds of headquarters out there?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"And do they all have leaders?"

"Of course." Jae chuckled. "Every HQ has a couple of leaders. We meet up with Skype occasionally."

"Why do you have to meet up?"

"Well, that brings us to the most important part."

We stopped in front of tall double doors. Jae grabbed the handles and grinned at me.

She threw them open.

"Here we are. The most important part of the Haven."

My eyes widened.

"Say hello to the Arena."

#Hell Rising #original story #dystopian

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stevie-steven-stevington · 5 years

Text

Febuwhump Day 6: torture

Fandom: MCU Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds Category: Gen Rating: T Warnings: drugging, off-screen torture Words: 2k

read on ao3

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tbh i read a lot of torture fics but it’s really not my MO as a writer, so this is kinda trash but i kinda don’t care so

It was bound to happen, really.

Peter’s a superhero. Ned is his best friend. At least one person on what is probably a lengthy list of enemies knows Peter’s citizen identity.

All things considered, it’s not exactly surprising when Ned gets dragged into Peter’s superhero business. Petrifying, yes. Infuriating, absolutely.

Surprising? Not in the slightest.

Oddly enough, they’re kidnapped separately.

He would’ve thought it’d be a lot less of a hassle to kidnap them together, seeing as he and Ned practically spend every waking moment attached at the hip, barring Spider-Man patrols. It’s the middle of July, so school is out, which means that Peter can be found at Ned’s house as often as his own apartment, and vice versa. MJ joins them, sometimes, but she’s busy with a summer internship - a non-superhero-related internship - so it tends to just be the two of them.

Like it was today, when May shooed them out of the apartment with specific instructions to get some damn sunlight, boys. They’d managed to kill a couple hours wandering around and laughing about nothing, eventually ending up sitting in companionable silence on a swingset in a park, both content to just exist around each other.

They’d parted ways with a see you tomorrow and their signature handshake, and that was that.

Until his spider-sense screams halfway between the park and his apartment.

Rough hands yank Peter into an alleyway, and a syringe is jammed into his arm before he can even think to fight back. He struggles, kicking and punching and scratching and even biting down, hard, on the hand that covers his mouth.

Nothing comes from his struggling but angry grumbling from what sounds like...six people? Seven?

It’s hard to tell when his senses are dulling and his limbs are going numb.

What did they give him? Normal drugs do almost nothing to him, and it took Helen Cho and Bruce Banner days to manufacture an anesthetic that would actually put him out in case it was ever necessary.

How did - how did they even…

He’s out like a light before the question is fully formed.

Peter wakes up in the dark to absolute silence.

There’s a long moment during which Peter can’t figure out whether there’s just no lighting or he’s actually blind. A long moment in which he is terrified that whatever was injected in his veins has permanently fucked up his senses.

Then, “Peter?”

No. No, no, no, no. No fucking way, absolutely not.

If he tells himself enough times that that is not Ned’s voice, small and shaky and scared, then maybe it’ll be true. Maybe he’ll be here alone, like he assumed he was, because that would be infinitely better than being here with Ned.

It’s not Ned. He’s hearing things. He’s on specially-made drugs, for fuck’s sake, and auditory hallucinations are the most common hallucinations.

There’s another hiss of, “Peter?”

“Fuck,” Peter breathes. He’s not hallucinating. He’s not deaf either, though, and he thinks his eyes are starting to adjust to the darkness, at least. He might not have all his wits about him, but he has all his senses, and that’s...something.

That something is negated by the fact that he’s chained to the wall. The realization is much less sharp than it should be because he still feels...groggy. Heavy. Like his whole body weighs three times it’s supposed to.

He’s unsure how long it’s been since the mysterious drug was injected, but it clearly hasn’t quite worn off.

All he ever wanted was to keep Ned out of this. He’d told him, the night he accidentally let Ned in on the secret, that this was dangerous. That knowing Peter and Spider-Man are the same person was going to get him hurt one day and that’s why he never told. He’d wanted nothing more than for Ned to be safe.

He hears shuffling.

It takes a minute, but Ned finds him. With no preamble and no words, he slips into place at Peter’s side, burying his face in Peter’s neck. Peter, on the other hand, doesn’t even have the strength to pull on his restraints to see if they’ll give.

There’s a certain type of fear reserved for being drugged, kidnapped, and locked in a pitch black room with no suit, no webshooters, and your best friend at your side. Peter didn’t know that type of fear existed until now.

He thinks maybe he should say something. Something comforting, something soothing. This is his life, not Ned’s, and if he’s as scared as he is, then Ned must be even worse off.

Just as he opens his mouth, Ned whispers, “This is really fucking cool.”

Peter’s jaw snaps shut, teeth clicking together. He must stiffen even more because Ned backtracks.

“Not - I mean, I know this is - serious. Dangerous. But, y’know…I just got kidnapped because I’m best friends with a superhero. You have to admit, that’s kind of cool.”

Maybe it’s best that the gravity of this is lost on him. As much as Peter wants to snap, it’s not fucking cool if I’m carrying your dead body out of here, Ned, he keeps quiet. Ned’s blind optimism has always been both one of his best qualities and the thing Peter thought would get him killed. It’s not like he’s not used to it.

Besides, figuring out what to say seems like a lot of work. Speaking in general seems like a lot of work.

Staying awake is starting to seem like a lot of work.

Ned is still talking. He should listen, but…

Peter slips into unconsciousness with Ned’s voice washing over him.

The drugs have mostly worn off by the time anything actually happens.

It doesn’t change anything. Being fully aware doesn’t make any fucking difference when four men come storming into the room (from where, Peter’s not totally sure - whatever little bit of mystery drug is in his system has apparently focused specifically on dulling his supersenses, because his spider-sense doesn’t even go off before the men show up) and pull Ned away from him.

It doesn’t dawn on him until they start dragging Ned in the direction they came from that it’s not Peter they’re here to take. Ned, for all his damn optimism, fights his hardest, he really does. It’s still too dark to see the struggle, but Peter hears a few blows land and hopes at least most of them were thrown by Ned.

The restraints don’t budge. He pulls and pulls and pulls until his wrists ache and he thinks he feel drops of blood running down his arms, but they don’t budge.

Vibranium. Nothing else could hold him.

Their kidnappers don’t even ask him anything. He’d figured this had to be some sort of fear tactic to get him to spill whatever it is they wanted to hear, but no one says a word to him.

He’d like to say he’d never cave, anyway. But he’s only ever really let himself consider what he’d do if he was kidnapped alone, and if he’s being honest, he thinks he’d cave pretty easily if they would just tell him what the hell they want.

Ned cries out for him to help, all of the holy shit I’m best friends with a superhero enthusiasm flying out the window, and all Peter can do is squeeze his eyes shut and plead to a God he’s not even sure he believes in to not let him be the cause of his best friend’s death.

At first, Peter counts.

The seconds add up to minutes, the minutes add up to hours. He counts because it keeps him from thinking to hard about what Ned is going through right now.

He has ideas. But thinking about any of them for too long makes his heart rate spike, and that’s not helpful for anyone.

He counts until the screaming starts.

Eight-thousand, seven-hundred, and sixty. Two hours and twenty-six minutes.

Ned lasted longer than Peter would’ve expected any non-superhero to. He can’t be sure what’s happening, wherever Ned is, but he held out for two hours and twenty-six minutes and that might be the most impressive thing Peter’s ever seen.

He’s always known his best friend was brave, but standing up to a high school bully and being tortured because of your association with a superhero are two entirely different concepts.

Peter wishes he could cover his ears, even though he knows it wouldn’t do much. Ned could be a mile away right now, and Peter would still hear the screams.

Peter may never stop hearing the screams.

The screaming stops about seven minutes before Ned is brought back to the room, and those seven minutes are no doubt the worst of Peter’s life.

The screaming was indescribable, but at least he knew Ned was alive. As long as Ned was screaming, he was alive.

Peter didn’t cry through the screaming, but he sobs through the seven minutes.

This time, his spider-sense does go off before the unseen door open. The hairs on his arms stand straight up and his spine tingles, and Peter wants to tell his powers to stop fucking taunting him. There’s no point in warning him when danger’s coming when he can’t do anything about it.

Ned is dropped, unceremoniously, on the other side of the room. Peter can’t tell if he’s conscious or not, but he can hear his heart beating, albeit erratically. He’s alive.

There’s a certain type of relief reserved for having your best friend returned to you alive after being taken and tortured. Peter didn’t know that type of relief existed until now, and he hates it more than anything he’s ever felt.

This time, there’s a question.

A deep, gravelly voice says, “Peter Parker. Spider-Man.”

Peter shivers, but doesn’t speak.

“You’re a teenage superhero with level 10 clearance at Stark Industries. No one else but Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, and James Rhodes have that level of clearance.”

So?

“I didn’t bother asking before. Figured if you’ve got that high clearance, you’re not gonna give up information easily. But now that you’ve heard what I can do to your little friend -“

Peter bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood.

“ - I’m thinking you might be a little more open to talking. So tell me, Mr. Parker…where are the rogue Avengers?”

“What?” The word tumbles out of his mouth before he even knows what he’s saying.

The rogue Avengers.

This is about the rogue Avengers?

Someone really thinks Peter Parker, a fifteen year old high school sophomore, knows where the rogue Avengers are. Tony Stark doesn’t even know where the rogue Avengers are.

The question might be repeated, Peter’s not really sure. He can’t focus on anything other than the fact that someone tortured his best friend for information on the rogue Avengers that Peter doesn’t even know.

“I don’t fucking know,” he says, throat scratchy and fingers numb. Maybe he should be a little more polite, but the anger has boiled up and is now spilling over. “Why the fuck would I know anything about the Rogues? I’m fifteen. I’m sure you think Mr. Stark knows and told me, but you’d be wrong for two reasons, seeing as one, Mr. Stark doesn’t even know and two, he doesn’t tell me shit, anyway.”

He wonders, for a moment, if running his damn mouth is going to be the thing that gets one of them killed.

But the man just hums. “If you’re sure, Mr. Parker. I’ll leave you alone with your little friend, then.”

I’ll be back, is unspoken but heard. Definitely heard.

The door swings shut behind the man.

Ned doesn’t move. Or speak. If not for his superhearing, Peter would think he was dead.

As is, he knows that a part of Ned is dead. Lost. Never to be seen again.

But Peter will do his damndest to keep the rest of him going.

The restraints don’t let him go to Ned, but he finally finds the comforting words he was searching for before.

“You’ll be okay. Everything will be just fine, Ned. We’ll get out of here alive and in one piece, because someone will come save us. Or we’ll find a way out, together. We’re both geniuses, yeah? We can figure it out.”

The words all sound fake to Peter, but he just hopes they’ll mean something to Ned.

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2019 #febuwhump day 6 #torture//#spiderman homecoming #marvel #mcu #post cacw #peter parker #ned leeds #whump #angst #mine #jude writes #text long post

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justinsdaysinthedark · 5 years

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Post #2 - Thank You

What an overwhelming 36 hours it's been. An endless amount of phone calls & messages of support got me through what was an agonising day of waiting yesterday. This blog was started to keep my family and close friends informed about my journey but it's grown into so much more.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to each and every single one of you that took the time to reach out and wish me the best of luck. A simple message of support may not seem like much to you, but when you're in a situation like mine it means so much. Thank you.

Monday night provided the worst sleep I've had in weeks. Keep in mind, i've had some terrible sleeps in that time! Why? It was nerves. Simple as that. I was nervous for the gastroscopy and biopsy. It wasn't the procedure itself but the anaesthetic side to the operation. I haven't been under since I was five and the unknown had my measure. What if they didn't put me under fully? What if I could feel the procedure? What if I woke up early? What if I didn't wake up at all?

In retrospect, I lost sleep over nothing.

With the little sleep I did have, I woke up Tuesday morning earlier than normal. I was expecting the gastroscopy between 8:30am - 11:30am and knew I was booked in for a Radionuclide Ventriculography (RVG) scan of my heart later that afternoon.

Since being in hospital, 9am has been my regular time to get up, shower, brush the chompers - y'know, get ready for the day of sitting in my little 3x3 room and watching the world go past. Tuesday however, I was up and about at 7:30 - showered and ready. I hate feeling dirty, so if my procedure was at 8:30, I'd be ready to go.

Breakfast rolled around at 8:00 and I had to politely decline it as I was required to fast from 12am for the procedure.

This is about the time when my previous blog post took off and messages started coming in for the remainder of the morning. Before I knew it, it was 11am and nobody had been to get me for my procedure yet. I called the nurse and enquired to which I was told to hand tight, it shouldn't be much longer. Whilst she was around, she did my daily observations and it was no surprise to see my heart rate up to 100+BPM (regularly around 65BPM resting) and a slightly higher blood pressure. I guarantee this was due to the nerves.

Lunch comes around at 12:30 and once again had to politely decline. 12 hours fasting thus far - lucky I don't have an appetite still and honestly didn't care! It was around this time the doctor comes around with the results of my Lumbar Puncture. This fortunately came back negative as there was no major changes to the one I had three weeks ago. White blood cells still present with a marginally higher protein count than normal. I once again mentioned about my gastroscopy or there lack of and the doctor assumed I'd already had it. He said he'd follow it up and get back to me.

Mentally, I'm okay. Still incredibly nervous and a little frustrated I prepared myself for a procedure between 8:30 - 11:30 and still nothing. Your messages of support continue to light up my phone, which certainly kept me pre-occupied and made the time fly by.

Finally! 2:43pm and somebody comes to my bed to pick me up. "Justin Smith for a procedure? Let's go." I mentally build myself up as they take me. With my heart beating the quickest it had all day, we get going. Minutes later, we get into quite a dark room with a single scanner to my left and a glass wall. The radiographer, Liv meets me and goes through the basic questions. Name? Date of birth? Address? What are you here for? "A gastroscopy and biopsy" I reply. A few seconds of awkward silence follows so I split it with an "I think..." hoping to relieve the slight tension.

Liv replies with "not quite. We're here to do your Radionuclide Ventriculography scan of your heart."

My heart dropped. I spent the past fifteen minutes mentally preparing to go under and it's not even for the right procedure; I almost feel robbed!

To give you a brief understanding, the RVG scan involves injecting a small amount of radioactive material into your blood stream where they then track it until it passes through the heart, ensuring the heart is healthy and working as it should to a level that it should. Why am I having this scan? Good question. The doctors wanted to get ahead of the game essentially. Providing the biopsy comes back positive for lymphoma, I will need chemotherapy. The level of that chemo will depend, however if I do happen to require a strong dose, it can have negative effects to the heart. This scan is to ensure they have a baseline reading of my heart and ensure it will be able to handle a high dose of chemo.

This scan took 40 minutes from start to finish and before I knew it, I was up in my ward again. By this time, dad had arrived so at least I had somebody to talk to and reassure me when the time comes to get my gastroscopy.

4:00pm and the time finally came. 16 hours of fasting, I was slightly hungry but by this stage, I just wanted to get the procedure over and done with. I was still nervous, but more relieved the time had come. Having dad there for the hour or so beforehand made me feel a lot better about the whole thing.

The operation itself involved a gastroscopy (camera down my throat into my stomach) and if they could see lymphnodes, get a biopsy to test.

Cutting to the chase, was it worth worrying for 16+ hours? Not at all. All I remember is them checking my blood pressure, putting something in my cannula and asking me to count to 10. I got to 12 and next thing I know, I woke up coughing my lungs up in recovery with a nurse next to me. Luckily, the coughing only lasted for about fifteen minutes and that was just a result of irritating my throat.

Apparently, the gastroscopy went well and they were able to get a couple of good tissues from the lymphnodes to biopsy. Additionally, they also took the following photos whilst they were inside - I have no idea what they're of or even if anything is okay, but I thought they were cool!

For the first 45 minutes after the procedure, I felt fine. I was great! I felt incredibly thirsty and hungry but I assume that was simply due to the fact I hadn't eaten. Things from here turned pretty quickly once I had some dinner and a glass of water. I started to go downhill pretty quickly - feeling incredibly fatigued and tired....essentially dopey. It was from here I knew I just needed to have some rest and I'd wake up better in the morning. Needless to say, I was asleep by 9pm and basically slept through the night...except for when the nurses woke me up at 11pm, 12pm. 3am and 5am.

Waking up this morning (Wednesday July 17th), I instantly felt a lot better than I had last night. Admittedly, I had a bit more of a sleep in than I generally would've - it was great. I use the term 'sleep in' lightly though - it's nothing like a sleep in at home! What was the plan of attack for today? Well to be honest I wasn't too sure. A doctor yesterday mentioned briefly about a bone marrow test however the nurses and doctors on had no idea about one and couldn't see one booked in. I hadn't eaten since the night prior however the nurses got me to fast once again whilst they investigated. As a result, breakfast was staring me right in the face and I couldn't even touch my beloved weetbix, milk and sugar!

The clock ticks over to 10:37 and a Young, lanky doctor comes by. "Hi Justin, I'm Alex and I'll be doing your bone marrow procedure today..." Alex went on to explain the procedure, risks and what to expect. As he finished and started to walk away I had one last burning question. "When are we doing it? Later this afternoon?" "Now" Alex replied.

Woah. Wait. What? Hang on two seconds. I'm not prepared for this. You mean now...as in like, once Alex had finished preparing? You betcha....

Now I was under the assumption I'd be getting knocked out as I had done the night before however Alex proceeded to explain they'll put some medication in my cannula that "makes you feel like you've had four or five beers" as well as some local anaesthetic. No point being worried or scared about it - if it's getting done bedside, it couldn't be near as bad as the lumbar puncture, right? Once again, like I have been for the past few weeks I was completely and utterly wrong.

First though, what's this procedure involve? Basically, blood, white blood cells and platelets are produced in your bone marrow. This can be accessed via key areas of your body depending on your age...for me it was my hipbone - left side to be exact. The aim of the procedure is to get these fresh samples of blood, white blood cells and platelets as well as get a sample of my bone marrow - generally one small sample of the bone.

Alex got me curled up in the fetal position, lying on my right and basically began straight away. A few local anaesthetic needles numbed the surface before he inserted a needle in to collect the blood samples. This part was similar to a lumbar puncture, but I couldn't feel as much internally.

Alex then stated he was starting the bone marrow collection, which was without fail the worst part of this whole experience so far. He used the large needle with a blue handle, which can be seen below.

Alex hit the bone and advised me the next part was only going to tickle a little bit. What's he do? He starts to screw into my bone. Whilst I couldn't see, it felt very similar to uncorking a bottle of wine. Whilst he went in no deeper than 1mm, christ it hurt. The worst part was yet to come. Much like the pressure behind uncorking a bottle of wine, this happened too. Alex yanked the sample out and the pressure and pain was immense! Done. It's all done. Thank goodness. Then Alex said the words I didn't want to hear next. "Y'know what Justin? We want to make sure we only have to do this once, so let's get another sample, eh?"

Oh my lord. Are you kidding me? Whatever. Lets do it. I want to get it over and done with. I don't even think I replied, just mumbled something along the lines of whatever. And thus, the process happens again. I've attached photos of the two samples below, which I thought were pretty cool!

I must admit, Alex was incredible during the procedure. I asked at the start to keep me informed throughout the whole process. I'm quite an inquisitive character when things are happening that I don't know what the process is and this was no different. Alex not only kept me informed, he did as much as he could to keep me as comfortable as I could be during such a procedure. One thing I was incredibly surprised at was how much blood was on his hands!

Not much happened throughout the rest of today to be honest. Courtney, dad and mum came to visit but that was it. The doctors advised they are expecting the result of the biopsy tomorrow afternoon (hopefully) however they said it could take anywhere up to 72 hours from the procedure - which puts it at Friday night or Monday. Where does that put me? Same boat as I have been throughout this entire process - just waiting for answers.

I was advised that the results could come back either negative or inconclusive. Whilst this wouldn't be ideal, it's unfortunately just going to be another roadblock in this venture. In preparation the results don't come back the way we probably expect the, too, I'm booked in for an ultrasound of my gall bladder tomorrow. That will be their next avenue to answers. I suspect this is because my PET scan showed up significant areas in my gall bladder and I suppose that's not exactly a vital cog of the human body...so I suspect they'll just remove it, cut it open and see what's inside. But that's nowhere near a medical analysis of what's going to happen.

Before I finish for tonight, I'll leave you with how I am mentally. How am I going despite all this? Y'know what? I'm actually the opposite to what you probably think I am. I'm in the best mental state I have been over the past six weeks. Why? I think it's because we're close to (hopefully) getting an answer or at least following a more solid path to answers.

I end tonight with a final thank you. Thank you for all the messages and endless love. It's helping - trust me, it is.

Juzz xx

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ry-regard · 6 years

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Ryan is raised by ol’ Kryz and somehow Bo is also there (welcome back @bo-regards-search-history )

Ryan was eight when she got her first permanent gift from Captain. He’d taken her to a cold and funny smelling room and sat her down in one of the interrogation chairs. She recognized them easily because she’d been training to escape them lately. The cuffs snapped over her wrists and Ryan immediately started to free herself, thinking this was a test. However before she could get too far Captain put a hand on her shoulder and Ryan stopped dead. Captain obviously wanted her still... Ryan hung her head in shame at her mistake and Captain tilted her chin up. So he wasn’t mad! Ryan didn’t smile, though, Captain said smiling made you look like a fool and gave the enemy time to attack while you were distracted by happiness. Instead, Ryan nodded and Captain called another alien Ryan had never seen into the room. The alien opened a kit with several vials filled with some kind of liquid in different colours. Upon seeing them, Ryan was immediately suspicious. Captain said that you shouldn’t trust any liquid (or anything at all) you couldn’t identify because if you couldn’t identify something you couldn’t manipulate it. Ryan gave the strange alien an innocent smile, aware how childish it made her look. “What is in those vials?” The words of the alien language felt strange and heavy on her tongue but Captain didn’t give her a sharp look so she must’ve sounded okay! The strange alien snapped something at Captain in a language Ryan hadn’t been taught yet and Captain snapped back equally harshly. Captain turned to Ryan with a stern expression. “It’s not nice to play games with our guest. After all, it came all this way so that I could give you a special gift.” Ryan resisted the urge to flinch in shame and nodded before apologizing to the strange alien. She let her face settle into a piercing neutral expression and the air of childishness vanished. Ryan liked when she could use this expression because people said it made her look like Captain. Ryan liked Captain. He’d taken her away from her dumb mom and given her lessons and training and shiny knives. Ryan preferred her baton to knives though. She liked the ‘thwack!’ sound it made. She idly wondered what sound her baton would make if it hit the alien in front of her before asking her question again, “can you tell me what substance is in those vials, please?”

“Ink,” the strange alien chirred. Ryan nodded. “Only ink? It will not have any negative effects on me?” The alien seemed to nod and Ryan was satisfied.

The slight pain of tattooing process reminded Ryan a little of her earliest training sessions with Captain. It didn’t take long before the tattoo was done, situated neatly on the back of Ryan’s neck. It was the perfect place, Captain said, because it was easy to cover up with a wig for missions but easily visible without one because Ryan kept her hair buzzed short. Buzzed hair was good, Captain had told Ryan as he chopped it off for her, because then enemies couldn’t grab it. Captain had promised Ryan that she’d become his greatest weapon. Ryan liked that thought because it meant she’d made Captain proud. She wanted to make Captain proud desperately. When Ryan happily showed Captain’s gift to Arborin-Bo, emotions flashed across his face that she couldn’t read and that scared her. Though he smiled at Ryan after he saw the fear on her face he cut their bonding time together short.

At twelve Ryan came to Captain with a request of her own. The idea had stemmed from the lessons she’d been learning in her improvised weapons training. She’d been told that there was no way you could have a weapon ready at all times. Ryan thought that was wrong. So she’d done careful research. The human jaw was a powerful thing and Ryan intended to make good use of it. However this plan required careful timing- Ryan had to be absolutely sure that she had no more baby teeth. So she’d researched and waited and then finally presented her plans to Captain. He’d nodded. That made Ryan ecstatic. The preparations were made quickly. Ryan had made sure there weren’t many needed. As per Ryan’s plan, they only just barely numbed her gums for the procedure. She’d also requested a mirror to watch and could barely stop herself from grinning as her teeth were yanked out one by one and replaced with metal facsimiles that were sharpened to a fine point. Now she truly looked the part of a great weapon. After the procedure, Captain came into the room and told Ryan he had a gift for her since she was so dedicated. Ryan nodded coolly. Visible happiness made you vulnerable. Captain gestured and a new alien came into the room. Ryan had special glands implanted that turned her saliva into a potent tranquilizer. Now, her bite could render her victims helpless, if she so chose. This made her feel strong and happy- missions would be a cinch now! Captain also had a tiny sawblade implanted in Ryan’s finger. She could have it tear its way through her skin if she were ever captured and needed to free herself. Ryan could tell using it would hurt. She knew it was a warning from Captain. Great weapons don’t get captured. She loved it anyway. When Arborin-Bo saw her new silver smile, he flinched. Ryan’s smile disappeared quickly. What did she do wrong? Arborin-Bo quickly patted her head and told her he was just startled, but Ryan wasn’t sure. Later, she voiced the misgivings Arborin-Bo’s reaction had caused to Captain. After that something seemed to change between Arborin-Bo and Captain. Ryan asked them both about it separately and they both said it was nothing, so Ryan disregarded it.

At fifteen Ryan approached Captain again. This time she didn’t have a plan- just a request. “I want them off.” She cupped his breasts to graphically illustrate his point. “They’re in the way. I’ll wear fake ones if I need to for missions.” Captain nodded easily. Ryan was awake for this procedure too. She was awake for a lot of his procedures. It interested her to see when the doctors under Captain carried off samples of muscle or bone or blood. It interested Ryan even more when Captain cut her open personally. Machines kept Ryan alive and awake as Captain rooted around inside of her to test her healing speed and pain tolerance. The best part of those was when Captain saw something that pleased him and ran a bloody thumb over Ryan’s cheek. Captain was rarely gentle so if he was then you knew you’d earned it. Ryan liked the clear lines he set. Ryan recovered quickly- Captain had been giving her injections to speed up his healing. She set off eagerly to show her flat chest to Arborin-Bo since he hadn’t seen it yet. Arborin-Bo hadn’t visited Ryan when she was recovering.

When Ryan was almost sixteen Arborin-Bo ran away and left her behind. It was Captain who told her. That was the first and last time she’d ever cried in front of him. Captain had gripped her arms tightly and his face had turned downward in disgust. Great weapons don’t cry. Ryan froze and gulped in a few deep breaths as Captain started to speak softly. Ryan didn’t hear him, though. A buzzing static had started up in her ears and she couldn’t hear a thing. The static wormed its way into her brain and underneath her skin, bringing numbness with it. The buzzing quickly left her ears so she could hear, but it didn’t leave the rest of her. The numbness stayed firmly in place. Perfect weapons were numb. They didn’t care. Captain easily noticed the change in Ryan’s behaviour and finally, finally, smiled. Ryan didn’t smile back, but she decided she liked the numbness. Her thoughts turned to Arborin-Bo again and how he would affect the numbness. Ryan decided that if she found Arborin-Bo and he changed the numbness in any way then she’d get rid of him.

#ryans past #au verse #does this count as #body horror #?#idk #posting this now bc im gonna be Busy tomorrow

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