Tumgik
#no. 5
taiyomatsumoto · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
153 notes · View notes
strawberrylabs · 6 months
Text
Whumptober day 5 with Wanderer!
Prompt: debris
Whumptober masterlist
Summary: Wanderer regrets his last words to you.
Warnings: Being burried alive, arguments, blood, yelling, death, willing death
Tumblr media
It wasn't uncommon for you and Wanderer to get into arguments.
He wasn't always the best with words, or with being honest about his emotions.
Usually conflicts could be resolved within the hour and everything would be fine.
This time it was different.
"Fine! Go ahead and die! Abandon me like everyone else did!"
Spit flew out of wanderer's mouth as his anger seeps through his words.
You had recently come back from a particularly dangerous commission, one where your life was out in danger more than once, and you had received quite a few injuries.
"You know that's not fair! I'm doing my job! You know I would never just intentionally die, that's stupid!"
Normally you were calm when arguing with him. You know he's learning, and you'd usually have patience.
But not this time.
He scoffs.
"Well you're human so I wouldn't put it past you to be stupid enough to die. You would be selfish enough to leave me alone after getting me attached to your mortal ass!"
"Fuck you."
He turns to you
"What was that?!"
"Fuck you! I have been nothing but patient with you these past months as you learn about emotions! I've dealt with everytime you yelled and given you time to calm down! But I will not be called selfish for saving someone elses life! And I will not be guilt-tripped by you accusing me of abandoning you!"
You seethe at him, pointing an accusing finger at him.
"What would you do if I did die? Is my last memory going be worrying about you hating me for supposedly abandoning you? Is my name going to be tarnished by your opinion on my death?"
You could feel yourself boiling with unbridled rage.
"Yeah well maybe it'd be better if you died! Then this false heart wouldn't feel so heavy all the time!"
The silence after his words was heavy.
"I'm going to finish my commissions. I'll come back when you stop being a prick."
You fix him in place with a hard glare.
Wanderer feels a lump in his throat. He'd seen you glare sure, but never at him.
You close the door behind you without a second thought.
Fine. Wanderer would wait. It's not like you could avoid him forever, you live with him after all.
And so he waited.
He would never admit that he didn't sit down once. He would never admit that he didn't stop pacing.
He would never admit that he didn't notice the hours passing, too stuck in his own head.
It was only when he heard someone yelling about the location of your commission did he snap out of his daze.
"Someone said the buildings in the area collapsed!"
Wanderer was out the door in an instant.
Surely you were out of there already right?
The only reason you weren't home is because you being petty, right?
'What would you do if I did die? Is my last memory going be worrying about you hating me for supposedly abandoning you? Is my name going to be tarnished by your opinion on my death?'
Wanderer bit his cheek so hard it bled.
He was an idiot.
Wanderer finally made it to the old village after a few short minutes.
The place was a wreck.
Not a single building was left standing.
But what caught Wanderer's eye was a familiar piece of clothing.
Time froze.
There, in the light of the now setting sun, painting the morbid scene in a sardonic shade of red; lay you. Your lower half covered by rubble of a half fallen, unstable, building. Blood was leaking from where your body disapeared.
He had to get you out.
And he had to get you out now- or else the rest of the building would collapse.
"Hey! You moron, stay with me!"
He got no response.
He left out a breathe when he felt your pulse. But you were unconscious.
"Come on! Wake up! I can't get you out like this!"
He grabs underneath your arms and pulls, eliciting a whimper of pain from you.
"Shit! Come on!"
The more he pulled, the more cries fell from your mouth.
He tried to lift the debris, but it just made the remaining structure unstable.
Before he knew it, hot tears were streaming down his face.
Normally he wouldn't let anyone see him cry.
But in this moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.
"im sorry! Ok?! Im sorry! I know I was wrong, dammit! I know I'm terrible with words and emotions and im sorry I took it out on you! I know it was stupid!"
he grits his teeth, not attempting fighting the tears
"But archons be damned, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me! I need you! You make me whole! You make this fake heart feel something! and I'm not letting you leave me!"
"I'm sorry I said what I did! I was a fool! I know you would never leave me and life would be unbearable without you!
He places his forehead on yours
"so please..." he whispers
"Please! Stay!!"
He feels a hand on his cheek and snaps his eyes open to see your weak gaze meeting his.
One look at your expression told him all he needed.
You weren't making it out alive.
"..I'm staying with you."
You sputter
"You can't! This building will fall any second. You have to go-"
"I don't care! I'm not abandoning you. I'm not leaving the one idiot I love in this cursed world!"
Wanderer moves to be beside you, lying down as best he can to hold you. You action is awkward given the obstacles, but it's morbidly comforting all the same.
No more words are spoken as the two of you look at each other.
No moves were made, now phrases uttered, but the emotion in your eyes conveyed all that needed to be said.
'You loved him.'
'And he loved you.'
You held each other tight as you focused only on one another, foreheads touching.
The last thing wanderer saw as the roof fell, was your resigned, love filled eyes.
And then it all faded to nothing.
Tumblr media
Link for part 2(currently a poll to decide what to do)
133 notes · View notes
one-piece-aus · 6 months
Text
Whumptober Day 5
Sabo x Reader
Tumblr media
TW: Home invasion
[y/c] = your city
"Weakness." You punched Sabo into the lava and watched him burn to death.
"[Y/n] I was in the middle of collecting quartz," Sabo whined and respawned back at his base.
"Karma's a bitch," you laughed.
You were playing Minecraft with your online friend Sabo, who you've been playing online games with for the past 10 years. Started ever since you got Minecraft as a kid and played on servers, after playing a few mini-games you friended him, and eventually, you exchanged Discord users (when it became a thing). Yeah, yeah, the internet is a dangerous place, blah blah blah, Sabo was cool though, you trusted him, you've already done video calls with him, and honestly he's been there for you more than anyone else.
There were countless late nights where you two stayed up, gaming while discussing some deep topics. Sometimes they were philosophical nonsense, other times they were about struggles going on in life, you both cried over call during those kinds of nights. Safe to say you and Sabo's friendship was real, you just wished he lived near you so he could visit-
"Oh now I'm not going to share the surprise I was going to tell you," Sabo said when he teleported back to the nether.
"Surprise? What surprise?" You crouched your Minecraft character in front of him.
"Nooooo, I'm not going to say." Sabo walked around you and begun mining quartz once again.
"Come onnnnn, Sabo."
"Surprises are for nice spouses."
Ah, that's right, I forgot to mention your married Sabo in Minecraft, for "XP benefits" of course.
"I'll give you golden apples."
"Mhmmmmm."
"And... a three stacks of cookies."
"Well why didn't you just say so!" Sabo spun around and picked up the items you dropped for him before going on his merry way.
"Okay, now tell me," you said following after him.
"So you remember how I said my brothers and I planning to go on a trip over Christmas?" Sabo asked as he started to build a bridge over lava.
"Yeah, kinda sucks since that means you won't be able to play online," you grumble as you slowly crept behind him as he placed blocks. Playing with Sabo was all you looked forward to these days so him reminding you that you wouldn't be able to play with him during that time, you felt your mood deflate.
"Well guess where we're going."
"Uhhhh Tim Buck Two."
"No, we're going to [y/c]."
"Really!?" Your demeanour spun a 180, your excitement pulled a shiny smile across your face.
"I knew you'd be happy but I didn't think you'd get the same energy when you see your favourite blorbos on screen," Sabo laughed as the two of you were now bridging over a group of piglins on the ground.
"Because you are one of my little blorbo husbandos," you cooed knowing it'd fluster him.
"...I'd like to see you say that to me in person."
"You say that like I won't."
"[Y/n], you can barely ask an employee for help at the grocery store."
"Shush." You hit Sabo off the bridge and watched him fall to his doom, or so you thought. He placed a water block on the ground, in the nether. "Are you using your hacks again!?"
"You better move before I get back up and knock you off," Sabo warned.
"You won't dare."
"Or I would-" Sabo cut himself off when he heard something loud thud over on your end. "What was that?"
"Hm?" You were playing music in the background, talking to Sabo, and listening to Minecraft sounds with your noise-cancelling headphones so you didn't hear it.
"Something heavy fell over on your end."
"You're not messing with me are you?"
"Ace does that trick, not me."
"I wouldn't put it past you to use one of your brother's tricks."
"Okay, I'll stop building up-" Sabo ceased stacking blocks and looked up at your character. "You pause your game and check what fell over."
"Fine." You pause your game and start to take your headphones off.
"Wait!"
"Whaaaat?"
"Turn your camera on."
"Why?"
"It's... I just got a bad feeling."
"Okay..." You shrugged off Sabo's uneasiness and turned on your camera before taking off your headphones and started looking around your room to see what fell.
"Must've fell outside," you muttered heading toward your bedroom door and opening it.
Sabo couldn't see what was outside your door, whatever stood out there made you slam your shut and scramble to push your dresser in front of the door. Goosebumps crawled over his skin as realization hit him that shit is hitting the fan. He fumbled on his end to grab his phone and rapidly tapped buttons.
"Sabo..." You were now back in front of the computer, the dresser completely blocking the door. "Call the cops."
"Way ahead of you," Sabo said as the phone began ringing. "What's going on?"
"There's...there's a guy in...in my house." You could hardly pull your words together since your brain is currently spinning around to find the way for you to survive. "He...he's throwing things around... I think...I think he saw me." You started typing your address to Sabo so he could tell the cops where to go, you sent it before but it'd take too long for him to scroll up to find it. 
Sabo muted himself, probably so he wouldn't be heard talking to the cops. You backed away from the computer again, this time grabbing your bookshelf full of manga and pushing it in front of your door. Once that also blocked the door, you glanced around for more things to push in front of the door but the only heavy stuff left was your bed and desk which could be hiding places that the intruder could look around, and any few seconds he wasn't finding you was a second more of survival.
You picked up your headset and put it back on, Sabo was still muted. You clicked on the Minecraft tab so it'd cover your screen and he- if the invader came into your room- wouldn't know your camera was on with a witness. You took your phone just in case, making sure it was on silent and hid in the closet, making sure no sound came when you closed the door. You climbed into your laundry basket, burying yourself under your dirty clothes, for once grateful you forgot to do laundry.
"Okay, the cops are on their way- [Y/N]?? Where are you [Y/n]???" Sabo felt his heart drop.
"i'm in the closet," you whispered.
"Why didn't you climb out your window?"
"don't you remember that i told you the lock is broken? i live on the 10th, that's suicide," you whisper-shouted.
"Just stay on call, okay, police will be there soon."
"...okay."
Your meek voice squeezed Sabo's heart, his wish he was there to deal with the guy himself, or at this to be there to reassure you everything is going to be okay. Alas, all he could do was sit there on the other end of the screen, helpless as you both listened to something banging on your door.
Tag: @bookandyarndragon @roseoftrafalgar
91 notes · View notes
fullmetalmaple · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
On reflection, this is so much funnier than I thought it was when I wrote it last night
48 notes · View notes
wazagh · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
No. 5
Taiyo Matsumoto
62 notes · View notes
ashintheairlikesnow · 6 months
Text
Rolling Down
Sigh Not So | Secrets Hid Away | Shed Tears Aplenty | Fire Down Below | Rolling Down |
CW: Nonhuman whumpee, referenced choking, captive whumpee, sadistic whumper, multiple whumpers, creepy whumper, fantasy whump, the next chapter is going to be intense as fuck
-
"Guilford? You in there?" 
Gilly shot to his feet with a smile at the familiar voice coming from the door to outside, knocking the rickety chair over with a clatter in his haste. 
The siren jerked instinctively backwards. Gilly snorted and gave it a good thwack with the long, thin switch he'd brought in last night, listening to its cry with a smile as it hid from him under the water. Signs of its fear of him were a good thing, ongoing evidence of the slow success of his plan. They’d spent the last three hours working on expanding its range of words through slow, methodical, and painful repetition. The welts layered over its chest and shoulders were proof positive of his work.
"Guilford?" Her voice called again, muffled through the door. "What was that?"
"Coming! Just a moment!" He called, giving the siren one last contemptuous look before he stepped out, closing the door to the bathing room behind him.
Atabei’s arrival promised not just a break from the monotony - broken only by the pleasure of seeing new bruises bloom and its growing terror - but also an end to the whole charade of having to force it to obey him in the first place. 
How frightened would it look, he wondered, when it realized disobedience was no longer even possible?
He had to clear his throat against a sudden warmth at the thought that seemed... distinctly indecent. He distracted himself by grabbing a hand towel to dry off his hands and wipe at the sweat over his brow, pushing his glasses up his nose instinctively before he swung the door open to greet the single most important person still alive in his life.
Atabei Montgomery was in the doorway, nearly silhouetted by the light, a vision of slightly shimmery pale green fabric against her very dark skin, long black hair pulled back at the nape of her neck in what seemed like ten thousand tiny braids, with a wide-brimmed hat with matching green trim tilted just so and tied at her chin with a ribbon. 
"I have a bell you could ring, you know," He said without rancor. He could hardly repress his smile enough to sound anything but thrilled. “You don’t have to yell.”
"I tried. It's broken." Her voice had begun to lose her empire accent. She clearly had the distinct beginnings of the slower-spoken, subtle musical dip and rise of the more northern colonies where she had been living now for years, a woman of some leisure in the Yawnee port city. It made him more aware that his own speech had lost its posh edge and gone to rougher consonants, quick and bitten-off like the other sailors. Her voice sounded like a higher class of people, who could afford to take their time. His own had gone the other way entirely.
Not for long, now. Not that she was here and could help him. He hitched in a deep breath, embarrassed when tears pricked at his eyes and blurred the sight of her. “Oh… Beibei, I am so glad you’re here.”
She took in the sight of him with a smile. “I’m glad to be here. It has been too long.” She opened her arms to him, and he went to her with real enthusiasm. At first he only grasped her hands so he could dip his head to press a kiss to the back of one, but she shook herself free. "None of that! Come come, Guilford, are you so much the man and the sailor now that you have no hug for me?"
"Of course not! Never!" He pulled her into an embrace where each of them tried their best to hug hard enough to break the other's ribs. When he picked her up and spun her, she shrieked with false indignation and laughter, batting at him with slaps that clearly were meant to be perfunctory at best. Atabei had first beat him in a fight when they were four years old and he never had won a real one since.
“Put me down, you wretch!”
He did… reluctantly. "My heart breaks without you! How do those ladies in the northern colonies treat you? Have you found one you like? Is there a paramour?”
“Paramour? My, you sailors have pretensions!” She pulled back enough to look at him with mischief in every line of her expression. Her black eyes twinkled. "I will have you know there is only one woman, and we are known to all and sundry as very sad, tragically widowed ladies who share a home merely so that we may live on the money our late husbands left us in comfort."
Gilly's smile widened. "Beibei! You shock me! I had heard nothing of this!"
"You were at sea!"
“Was there ever a husband?”
“Oh.” Atabei waved one hand in the vaguest possible response. “Eliza had one. He really did die quite tragically.”
“How?”
Her eyes sparkled. “The only cause of death anyone could discern, Guilford, was simply tuberculosis. It steals away so many, you see, and goes unquestioned…”
His smile widened. He held her by the arms, looking over her face. “Beibei. You didn’t.”
“His lungs filled, until he breathed his last,” She said with prim and proper intonation. “It was a terrible thing, when he became too weak to even speak up after he found Eliza and I together. And so very, very sad when his heart gave out from the shock. We were all so very… very sad to see him go. Especially his business partner, who inherited the company in full as long as he paid a nice sum to Eliza to buy our home outright.”
“You are a wicked woman. And yet I owe you congratulations! I must send you back with a gift for this Eliza and a warning of what will happen if she dares break your heart!" He hugged her again, as tightly as he could.
"Guilford!"
"Beibei, sister of my heart, it has been twenty-three and nine days since last we met, you have found love while I was gone and I only just found out, and I will not let you go without a fight this time!"
"Nonsense, nonsense!" She laughed again, bright and bell-like, smacking at him. Gilly heard an echoing mimicry of the sound from the bathing room. Atabei must have heard it, too - her laughter faded, and so did her smile, although it still sparkled in her eyes.
She looked to the bathing room door. "Oh, my. Guilford, is… that where it is? This mysterious thing you have found and need my help with, but cannot name in your letters? Is it something alive?”
"Yes. Yes, it's in there. You'll see why I had to keep it secret. It was sheer providence that I got hold of it so easily, an absolute accident of fortune, but to keep it I'll need magic, so…"
"So here I am," Atabei said, with a sigh. Her bright good cheer faded as she took on a more businesslike heir. "Tell me this is not the reason why you wanted my visit."
"It isn't!" She gave him a flat skeptical stare, eyebrows raised. He winced. "Or… it isn't only that. You know I love you, Beibei."
"I suppose I do. And I suppose you know I love you, too. You could have learned the magic with me, you know, and you wouldn't have needed me now."
"Father wouldn't allow it. You know I asked a thousand times.”
Her smile returned, briefly. "Ah, yes. Your late great father and his ridiculous superstitions."
"I think he would call them religious convictions, Bei. Don't be unfair. You know I am baptized, too."
"And yet you want magic now."
"Well. The… church won't help with what I want to do, but… I think you will." 
"Why is that? Magic has a cost, Guilford. To the one who casts it or controls it, as well as the subject of the spell."
"This will be worth it for us both, Beibei, I promise. We'll both end up rich as Croesus. You can buy yourself and your lady friend a mansion to live in comfort and security!"
"We already have a home more than large enough for our needs. But… let's see this treasure that makes sounds like the mockingbird that you find in the ocean and swear will make me a rich woman." She untied the ribbons that kept her hat on, dropping it on the rough-hewn wooden table as she moved past Gilly. "I left my bag of tools outside, it isn't good for them to be inside any home but mine any longer than necessary. They pick up impressions too easily where people sleep. I need the paint to stay pure and true or I cannot guarantee protection."
"Right. So” Gilly nodded, following her across the room. “The thing is, I don't need protection magic-"
"I didn't mean protection magic. I meant that I cannot protect us from the magic, if it binds to your home. It may choose you to target, and then you will be as lost as your secret ocean treasure.”
"Oh. Well, I…" He trailed off as Atabei sailed ahead, seeming to float more than walk. "Um, fine. I've been teaching it some words, so… here."
"You have been what?" For the first time, she looked alarmed. “Have you taken hold of a sea serpent?”
"No! No, not at all, I just… just a moment." He clapped his hands, one loud crack of sound. There was a pause. Nothing happened. Atabei blinked at him in confusion, and he sighed, feeling the pounding headache of anger already threatening at the edges of his vision. “Hold on.” He clapped again. "Areyto! Stand up or else!”
This time there was a splash from inside the room almost immediately, and he breathed more easily knowing his command had been obeyed. Eventually. It would help Atabei to see that he could do this. He could punish that hesitation later. 
“Areyto…?” She moved to the doorway, the hinges creaking in protest, the bottom of the door scraping the floor. There was a long, long pause as she took in the sight within. Then she said, very quietly, "You are so very stupid, Guilford Wentworth."
The words were not spoken with anger or even disgust… they were simply an expression of an immense, overwhelming exhaustion. 
“... it’s a siren,” Gilly said helpfully, swallowing around his sudden burst of nerves. 
"I can see that." They stood in the doorway to the bathing room, Atabei ahead and Gilly hovering nervously behind her. She looked stunned, her eyes roaming over the form of the siren within, who watched her right back. "What were you thinking?"
It felt like being scolded by an older sister who had found him dumping cups of flour in the well. Gilly flushed bright red and fought the idea that he should be ashamed of this. "I-I just-... I had an idea, is all. You know, I see the rich men, the lords, the governor and his family, and I think... what've they done to earn any of it? It should have been me to have such riches, my father was a lord once, and now what? Now I live here, in an old lady's cellar more or less, and scrape by! I deserve better! And this, this thing, this is going to-"
She held up her hand and his voice trailed immediately into nothing. “Gods above and below,” She whispered in an airy, slightly husky hum of sound. “Just look at him.” 
Inside, in the dim light that made it through the oiled paper that covered the window, the siren stood as it'd been commanded to, a mockery of an eerily beautiful man. Its muscular shoulders were slightly hunched self-protectively, water making its skin seem to shimmer as it ran down the creature's thighs, stomach, even its shoulders and sharp cheekbones.
It was watching them. Tracking every slight move they made, every blink, every breath. Gilly could tell it was taking note of how he obeyed Atabei's wordless command. He saw its dim animal mind recognize her as leader, shifting itself slightly to keep them both in view as Atabei stepped carefully into the room. 
It would have irritated him, if he didn’t feel more or less the same. Atabei would know what to do to help him get the riches and influence he wanted, and he trusted her to know best what step should come next. As long as she agreed to help him at all. 
"Oh, dear," She whispered. She wasn't talking to him, but to the creature, her voice going soft.  "You have been quite marked up, haven't you, pretty thing? My Guilford has not been soft or kind to you."
Gilly felt a flush of real shame at the realization that Atabei was reading the story of the bruises it was covered with, purpling under its skin, and she was… not happy about it. She clicked tongue against teeth as she looked at the bit gag, the way the corners of its pretty man-shaped mouth were rubbed raw and red. She knew the meaning of the circle of dark red and scabbed blood around its neck thanks to his daily use of the noose to ensure its cooperation and encourage it to learn the words he needed it to know. 
And… and maybe because he enjoyed seeing it fight for its life, again and again and again, until it was to tired to fight any longer and had to accept that Guilford Wentworth, ship’s surgeon who had control over nothing, would decide if it lived or died and there was absolutely nothing it could do to stop it except give him whatever he wanted. 
Maybe he liked that bit too much. 
"It's dumb as a post," Gilly protested, defensively, drowning out his own thoughts. "All it's learned, it had to be taught with discipline. If I'd been soft, it would have eaten me by now. Patience would get me a mouth full of teeth, Beibei.”
“Hmph.” She raised her chin, looking distinctly haughty. "Did you ever try softness?"
"No! I'm not… stupid." Gilly paused. Let the pause draw out. "Would softness have worked?" 
She had the look of someone fighting off an impending headache. He knew the feeling. "Maybe. Maybe not, and yet… he must loathe you. You take a man of the ocean and make him an enemy."
"It isn't a man! Besides, I don't care if it loathes me. Do we worry if a horse or cow or sheep likes or dislikes us? This thing is no different. It just looks human to trick us. Like any livestock, it’ll fall in line once it’s broken in.”
The corner of her mouth twitched with a wry humor. "You, I see, have never actually tried to ride a horse that hates you. Men have been killed taking the crop to a hateful horse the way you have taken your fists to this man."
"It's not a man, Beibei, for the love of God! It is a siren!"
“I know what he is,” Atabei said, closing her eyes and lifting one hand to rub her thumb and forefinger over the bridge of her nose. “You forget, Guilford. I have spent as much time as you on ships. My father was a captain, too. I was born on Lightning Rider."
“No, I know, I know you were, but… it isn't like sirens ever sing to fool women." He tried for a joke to lighten her look of growing anger. "You know, because they know it’s men who have all the gold for them to steal?" The look Abatei gave him was more frightening than any hurricane he'd ever survived. His face burned red in the dim light. “Oh, God’s wounds. My apologies. I didn’t mean that.”
“I should hope not. If I thought you had become the sort of man who believed such things, I would never speak to you again."
"I don't!” He reached out to touch her arm, gratified when she didn’t pull away. He tried to get her to look at him. “I don't believe it at all. I only thought about making you laugh!"
She snorted, a delicate, derisive sound that the siren echoed from the other side of the room. "I suggest, in that case, that you try saying something that is funny."
"... fair enough. I am sorry, Bei. You know I am.”
Yes. I know." She softened a little for him, then, a hint of her smile returning. "Besides, the sirens don’t sing because they want your gold, Guilford. They want to eat. Any gold they take is simply because they like how it shines.”
“True…” Gilly thought of the creature’s mouth, how it looked perfectly normal and somehow he knew it was all a trick, that beneath the illusion of unusually white flat-edged human teeth were rows upon rows of yellowed razor-sharp fangs, only revealed during its meals. “Although it is true that sirens don’t fool women.”
"They do not fool us," Atabei said evenly, "Because their magic only works on one who knows himself to be a man."
"Why is that, do you think?"
She moved to the left, picking up the chair Gilly had knocked over when she had arrived. The creature's dark eyes followed her, clearly assessing her as a potentially bigger threat than Gilly. Gilly felt the same. "If you were the only man I had ever known, I would say it is because men do not have the common sense the gods granted goats. But I do know other men, who would not do anything this stupid… and so I must say I have no idea. The gods must have decided it at a whim, as they sometimes do."
"Beibei, please let's don't blaspheme." Gilly sniffed, then colored even more as he realized how utterly fussy he sounded. He was a man who spent weeks elbow-deep in sailors' blood while they cursed him and themselves and the high heavens, fussy didn't describe him at all. And yet his time in church, back when he’d cared to go, had still left its mark. "Don't say gods.”
"It is only blasphemy to those who think they know everything." She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Who are we to say how many gods are out there? Who are we to lay out certainties when we have only suggestions? Hm?” When she smiled her slight and impish grin, he returned it, knees weak with relief. They had never been angry with each other for long. "Do you know everything, Guilford?"
"No. No, of course not."
"Exactly. So I don’t blaspheme, not to you. Have a priest come see me, however, and I will talk him out of his holy vows within a week or less."
"God forbid! We'd be overrun with exorcists again!"
"That was the one time!" He was gratified by how she laughed out loud, startled by the return of an old memory.
"Your father nearly beat him to death with a broom!"
The eyes of the siren in the washtub narrowed, moving from Atabei to Gilly and back again, studying their amusement and affection with each other. Some of its hostility might have eased. Or that could be a trick of light and shadow. Gilly didn't like its eyes on her. It wasn't jealousy, of course, how could anyone be jealous of an animal? But still… he didn't like it. 
Atabei swept herself to seated in the wobbly chair, her skirts settling in a burst of rustling as she had to find a balance. She laid one hand over her stomach where stiffer fabric held her posture straight. "At home with Eliza, I never wear dresses like this. I keep forgetting not to slouch."
"You do look lovely in it, though."
“Of course I do. I am lovely, and therefore look lovely. I would look lovely in rags. So,” She said, folding her hands in her lap, leaning forward slightly to stare down the creature across the room, as it stared back.  "Let's begin. You have stolen a siren.”
Gilly stood with his back leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He scowled at the way she said it, and watched the siren catch the expression and cringe back a little, its eyes moving to the rope that he could grab and pull at a moment’s notice to choke it again. “It’s not stealing. They don’t belong to anyone. That’s like saying I stole fish from the open ocean.”
Atabei raised her eyebrows without looking away from the siren. “Hm. Fine. You have harvested a siren, shall we say, which you now keep within your home.”
“Yes. He must have sung a ship onto the rocks, we found him lying on some wreckage. The others had hauled him-... Bei, you’ve got me doing it now-... the others had hauled it on board before I realized what it was. So I told the captain I’d kill it, and I brought it here.”
A delicate sniff. “In your bathing room, in your bathing tub, which now smells distinctly of old fish. And blood.”
Gilly swallowed. “... yes. There has been some bleeding… but I bought another tub and bathe myself currently in my bedroom. But… but I have a plan. I have ideas on how to use it, I just… need some help.”
“I’ll say you damn well do.” Her eyes trailed along the tense lines of its body with the sort of look that seemed almost professorial. "How many words has it learned as you beat it to bruised and bloodied?"
"A handful. Maybe a few more than that. It knows how to count to twenty in English, knows what it means when I tell it to move here or there, to eat, to stand or sit. Once the magic is laid, though, the work will go more quickly."
She nodded. "Likely so. I know a spell that will encourage its learning of language to happen faster. It will still take some time." She tipped her head to one side, giving a soft little whistle, one high note and two low. The siren perked up, for the first time in days, and blinked, mouth moving around the wooden bit it was gagged with. 
It couldn't whistle in response, not with the gag. But it exhaled through its mouth as though it were trying, and then hummed the same three notes back. Atabei grinned and clapped her hands in applause.
The siren flinched.
It jerked backwards and twisted to one side, shielding itself as best it could with its shoulder from an imagined blow. 
Atabei's smile dropped. "Guilford…"
"I clap when I give an order sometimes, or when it's not listening." Gilly shrugged. "Then I punish it. It thinks it did something wrong. Which it did. I don’t allow it music, not when it’s so dangerous. It can sing again once it only sings for me.”
"I see. No wonder you need my magic. If you let him go now, he would know only violence and fear and pain from us. I don't imagine you would survive his taste of freedom." She licked at her lips, thoughtfully. “Neither of us would. It knows our faces.”
"Exactly! You understand!"
She sighed, as if he were a pupil who had incorrectly answered a question. "... I understand you are very stupid, yes."
Gilly deflated a little. "You said that already."
"I mean it so thoroughly I must say it twice. I’ll do it, Guilford. But I’ll need all night and most of tomorrow, and for nearly all that time we will need him to be very still. Even the slightest break in the spellwork, a tiny flinch, before the sealing, and he won't be bound at all. And we will both die in great agony to feed his hunger.”
"No, I know. I know… I have something for that, to put in its fish. It'll be quite unconscious for hours once it settles into the thing's system, and we can work the spell while it sleeps. I've started feeding it more or less by hand this past week, so we'll know for sure how much it ate."
She nodded, a firm little jerk of her chin. "Perfect. You go to buy this fresh fish-” She watched the siren perk up a little at words it knew to mean food, and smiled. “-and I will start mixing the paints under the tree. We will work the magic starting tonight, and by the time the moon rises tomorrow he will be yours entirely."
Gilly exhaled, closing his eyes as the shining promise of his future rose before him. "You'll do it, then, for certain? I wouldn't have asked you to come all this way just for this, but you’re the only person I know who has any magic. I mean, I think Father Thomas up in the high village has some, but-”
“Ssshht!” Atabei cut her hand in a quick gesture as if slicing the very thought of the man in two. “You cannot ask him. I know what his magic is and what he does for it. Magic has a price, Gilly."
"I'll be able to give you such wealth, Beibei-"
"I do not mean a cost in coins. You will be bound to him as much as he is to you. Sirens live for centuries, Guilford, sometimes for more than a thousand years. If you do this… so will you. This is not a gift, my friend. That much time is a curse. It is the cost."
Gilly blinked, puzzled, looking over at the siren. It had relaxed, minutely, as it listened to them without understanding. It was a crime to be so beautiful and not be human. Or at least to have the form of a woman. Male sirens were rare, few and far between in a kind of creature that was already rare to begin with. It’d been his awful luck to only ever encounter a male in person.  "How is a longer life not a blessing?"
"I cannot answer that. Only warn you. You two will be tied together as securely as if you wore chains, for as long as he lives. Time makes us all fools, and you will have more time than anyone who is not a god. The only story I have of such a thing in my books… ended quite… quite poorly.”
Gilly swallowed. He felt a chill in his chest, traveling with his heartbeat to his very fingers and toes. "Then… why help me at all, Beibei?" 
"Because if I do not, he will kill you. And this way at least I can give you, who I adore like my own brother, at least a lifetime of what you desire most. What happens after that…" She trailed off. "I cannot guarantee or predict."
"Well… well, it'll be worth it. It'll be worth it, whatever the cost."
"If you say so. Go get the fish, and feed him. Once he is bound, we can untie him and allow him the use of his mouth. He won't ever be able to do you harm after tonight, and he will bend to your will no matter his own." 
Gilly nodded, rapidly. “Yes. Yes! That’s exactly what I want!” When Atabei stood, he hugged her again. She was tense in his arms. "Thank you, Beibei. Thank you so, so much. Everything is going to be perfect, you'll see."
"Hm. Perhaps.” She paused, then sighed. “Oh, Guilford, before we begin… I do have one question.”
"Yes?"
"... how well can your landlady hear?"
"What? Oh, she is deaf as a post. If we take the siren back into my room, close the door, maybe put some towels along the bottom… she won't hear anything at all.” 
"Good."
"Why?"
She looked over at the siren, still watching them with its lovely dark eyes. Her expression was something just shy of mournful, and Gilly hated that the thing could cause her such sadness. Or that his own choices were causing-
No. It was the siren’s deceitful appearance that made her feel guilt and sadness over this, not anything Gilly was doing. He was only making the most of a stroke of luck and building for himself the life thousands of men had sought without success. When he owned this whole island, or any island he wanted… she would see. She would understand, then.
Atabei turned back to him, and gave him a cool smile that did not reach her eyes. “We need a place where we will not be heard. Once the work begins... this poor creature is going to scream.”
-
Taglist: @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam
-
Note: Although I am not planning any specific @whumptober this year, I have done two pieces so far using prompts and that may continue!
52 notes · View notes
aini-nufire · 6 months
Text
No. 5: "You better pray I don't get up this time around." | "It's broken."
Zoya hissed as Nikolai cradled her mangled hand.
"It's broken," he said, expression tight. His gaze flitted around at their predicament: locked in a large metal cage, weaponless, and with Zoya's broken hand, her powers hampered as well.
The leader of the brigands that had ambushed them rattled a club along the bars of the cage, eliciting a startled reaction. Zoya gritted her teeth in mounting ire. She had thought a quiet picnic away from civilization would be a nice break for her and Nikolai, just the two of them. She hadn't counted on being caught off guard and taken captive so easily.
"Witch," the thug sneered in derision. "And the demon bastard."
Zoya stepped up to the bars, bristling with static electricity.
The man merely leered in return. "Feisty. You'll make good sport. Maybe you both will."
"This is the Queen of Ravka," Nikolai declared. "You do not want the wrath of an entire country to come down on your heads."
"Your heads would fetch a pretty bounty," the man rejoined. "Alive or dead."
He unlocked the cage door and reached in to grab Zoya's arm. She wrenched away, but a scuffle and grunt from behind had her whirling to find Nikolai had been grabbed through the bars and a knife pressed up under his throat.
"What'll it be, Your Majesty?"
Zoya clenched her good hand and stepped out of the cage. It was locked behind her, and then Nikolai was released. His eyes met hers, afire with defiance and worry and faith.
Zoya sidestepped as she was slowly encircled by the group of thugs.
"Can't use your witchcraft, now can you?" the leader said with a grin.
Zoya took a breath and focused on summoning with one hand. If Adrik could do it, then so could she.
A man lunged at her, catching her before she could bring the ferocity of the elements. A punch to the face sent her to the ground, and she couldn't help but scream as she landed on her broken hand. A kick to the stomach flipped her over onto her back. Zoya scissor-clipped his legs with hers, knocking him down. She scrambled to her feet and attempted to summon again, but she didn't have practice doing so when hobbled like this, and so another attacker was able to get to her first.
This time she ducked the swing and spun around, but her instincts were always to rely on her summoning, and she moved her broken hand without thinking. The spike of pain from the attempt stole her breath, and she wasn't able to block the next blow that sent her crashing to the ground again.
"Zoya!" Nikolai yelled.
She turned her head to find him, latching onto his face and reminding herself what she had to fight for.
"You are more than Grisha," an inner voice said.
Clenching her jaw, she pushed herself up again.
"Don't know when to stay down, do you?" the leader derided, striding forward and delivering a vicious kick that snapped a rib.
Zoya cried out as her entire body juddered from the force of the impact, then tried to curl inward, pulling her hands close.
The leader sniffed smugly. "That's better."
Zoya cupped her good hand around her injured one, focusing her senses inward and drawing upon that inner strength and the centuries of wisdom the dragon had shared. And though she had never done it before, she felt her powers rising to her call and mending shattered bones back into place. Even the rib, located directly behind her cupped hands, fused together. With her fingers able to move, to summon even from the micro motions made beneath her, Zoya lifted her head, her eyes alight with dragon power and her hair rising up to float around her in a halo of black.
The brigands faltered, looking unsure.
"What—"
"I never stay down," she said, swinging herself upright and thrusting her hands out.
Lightning forked down from the sky, splitting off to strike multiple men at once. A column of hurricane gales spiraled up around Zoya and then rushed outward, slamming into the remaining men and sending them flying several yards through the air, only stopping when they collided with a solid object and bone-crunching snaps.
Zoya slowly rose to her feet, the air around her still fizzling with electricity. She waited a long moment to see if anyone would rise. They didn't.
She finally released the elements and turned to Nikolai, whose expression was slack in astonishment. She strode over to the cage and tapped into her Durast abilities to break the lock.
Nikolai stepped out, eyes carefully taking her in. He then dropped his gaze and reached out to cup her arm. "How's your hand?"
"I healed it."
He arched his brows. "I didn't know you could do that."
"Neither did I before now."
He broke into a proud smile. "My ruthless Zoya, you never cease to impress me."
And her enemies never ceased to underestimate her.
Which they would always rue.
31 notes · View notes
mycatismyfriend · 1 year
Text
If the Handler comes back just one more time in the S4 new world to fuck with Five, let’s hope that he will truly get his revenge for everything she did to him. I will be happy.
214 notes · View notes
firstdegreefangirl · 6 months
Text
This is Pretty Perfect
“It’s broken.” Grace points out the fracture lines on the X-ray of Lucy’s hand and arm. “A clean break, fortunately, so it’ll just need a cast, and maybe a little bit of PT when it’s healed to help regain full muscle function …”
Lucy doesn’t hear the rest of her explanation. She doesn’t need to listen right now. Her head is pounding, her mouth is too dry, and every time she tries to focus on her injured wrist, it sends sharp stabs of pain up her left arm.
Besides, Tim is there, sitting on a vinyl-covered stool beside the exam table. She trusts him to listen now and fill her in later. He’s already been invaluable today, calling in her officer down while he chased down the suspect she’d followed over a chain-link fence. He’d handed the guy — cuffed and ready for transport — over to another pair of officers and helped Lucy sit up to lean against the fence.
Even though her legs and back were fine, he’d moved her so gently, one limb at a time until he could crouch in front of her and check her awareness.
He’d stayed until she was loaded into the ambulance, promised he’d be right behind her to Mercy, and made it into the waiting room before the paramedics had even unloaded the stretcher.
When Lucy had begged for water, desperately thirsty after the exertion of a foot pursuit, the ER attending had refused, in case she needed surgery.
It had been Tim who intervened, asking for a cup of ice chips and holding it where Lucy could reach every time she wanted to fish a couple out and let them melt on her tongue.
She’ll pay dearly for it later, she’s sure. Probably in weeks of extra paperwork once she’s healed, and a whole new series of Tim Tests she can’t even begin to imagine.
But for now, he can do the listening for her too.
Read the rest on ao3 here!
22 notes · View notes
medusapelagia · 6 months
Text
Eddie's Month Day 5 + Whumptober Day 5
written for @eddiemonth and @whumptober-archive 
Prompts: Eddie’s month day 5: Role Model | Slow Down - Ozzy Osbourne | Brave Whumptober day 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.” - Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.” Rating: Mature Relationship: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington WT: injuries, hospital WC: 1308
Some moments define your life.
Moments that seem like others and then, when you rethink about them, you realize that they were particular moments that changed your entire life.
The first one was the day Wayne decided to visit his brother when he came back from Vietnam.
Eddie didn’t really like the silent man who kept smoking one cigarette after another while looking at him with something that he wasn’t able to define. It took him a few years but he finally understood that he was looking at him with pity.
That day, even if Eddie didn’t know it, was the day Wayne decided that the kid deserved something more than a junkie as a mother and a petty thief as a father.
It took Wayne almost three years to gain Eddie’s custody, but in the end, the State was more than happy to give a troubled kid to an adult who was willing to raise him while his parents were in prison.
That day, the first day he met Wayne, Eddie was wearing a band t-shirt his father shoplifted somewhere and that was way too big for him, but he loved it.
He still has it, somewhere.
The image has faded and the cotton is so thin that it is almost see-through, but Eddie keeps it as a relic.
Another moment that will define his life forever is the day Chrissy Cunnigham, lovely Queen of Hawkins High ,sat with him and asked him for drugs. The strong kind, not just marijuana as most of the tough kids in high school did.
And he said yes.
Now that they are getting ready to fight an interdimensional monster he asks himself: why did he say yes? Why didn’t he tell her to have fun with her friends instead of searching for consolation in drugs?
He should have never said yes.
But he thought he was helping.
He thought that he could have helped her, little by little, gaining her trust and helping her see how beautiful and kind she was, inside and out.
But they didn’t have the time.
When he turned toward her with the little plastic bag, he found himself deep in a shitty horror movie with a fucking monster ready to kill every stupid teenager in Hawkins.
So he did the first thing he learned when he was a kid.
He ran away.
Like he had run away from his father when he used to come home drunk and tried to beat him.
Like he had run from the bullies that were trying to cut his hair.
Like he had run from the police when he was dealing a few miles away from the trailer park.
Eddie has run all his life. He is a pro at running. Could win a fucking medal if he wanted to.
But tonight is different.
Tonight they are at war.
And what is worse, is that he has a kid to take care of.
The look that he has shared with Harrington has said everything there was to say.
The knight is going to slay the dragon and he is going to keep the kid safe, and he fucking will.
The adrenaline of the concert he has played on the roof of the trailer is fading away fast, those monstrous creatures are trying to get into the trailer and Eddie can’t allow that.
If they get inside they could hurt Dustin, and even get into their dimension.
No fucking way.
So Eddie does what he knows best: he runs.
The only difference is that this time he is running toward the peril instead of away from it.
Fuck it.
If the ex Keg King was able to fight a fucking monster with a nailed bat and nothing more, he could do the same, right?
He is a man. His role in society is to protect the people he cares for!
He takes the bike and the demobats follow him. He looks around him, he will never make it to the woods as he was thinking.
He leaves the bike and takes the nailed shield.
He just has to hold the line. Someone will come to help him. That is what happens in all his books.
Straider will appear from nowhere and will save him.
The demobats shriek and he yells at them.
He closes his eyes.
Now that he is alone, surrounded by demobats, he doesn’t feel so brave anymore.
He thinks of the old faded t-shirt. He should have put it on for good luck. 
He would like to be buried with that on. 
No stupid suit for him.
He falls.
Everything hurts.
Someone is screaming his name when the earthquake starts and the bats fall to the ground. Dustin is holding him tight.
“I didn’t run.” he says, tasting blood in his mouth.
“No, no. Look at me! Look at me!” Dustin screams, and then someone else is kneeling at his side.
“We have to bring him back. Now.”
“But…!”
“Robin, Nancy, help Dustin. I think his ankle might be broken.” 
Someone is lifting him, and Eddie whimpers when they move him.
“Hey, if you are still complaining, it is a good sign.” Steve says, sounding cheerful.
“Harrington?” he asks, confused.
His vision is blurry, but someone is carrying him in a fireman’s carry and is running through the debris of the earthquake. 
What happened?
When did it happen?
What the fuck is going on?
They are not going back to the trailer, they are going down a crack in the ground.
“Are you sure, Steve?”
“Do you have a better idea, Rob?”
It seems they are out of ideas because Robin and Nancy keep going down a few feet away from them.
“You get to the other side with Dustin, then you’ll help me with Eddie.”
“Slow down, big boy.” Eddie complains.
“You will rest when we get to the other side. Just hold on.”
“You better pray I don't get up this time around or I’ll ruin your reputation. The golden boy brought me to the other side. How does it sound as a title?” he tries to joke.
“Better than being killed by a maleficent creature with psychic powers, honestly. But I’d prefer something like ‘brought me to the dark side’, it sounds more badass, doesn’t it?” Steve replies and Eddie laughs. Everything hurts, but he laughs.
They are still walking down the crack when Steve groans “I asked you not to do anything stupid.”
He did.
But for once Eddie wanted to be the brave one.
“Are you angry with me?”
“Don’t die on me and I might forgive you.”
Steve.
Brave Steve.
The expendable one.
Still, the one that is bleeding to death is Eddie.
“I didn’t run.”
“I know. But a friend of mine told me that there is no shame in running.”
“Wise man. You should introduce us one day.”
“I will. Now hold on tight. I’m going to push you through the crack and I don’t think it is going to be fun.”
Spoilsports, Eddie thinks, and the burning pain is the last thing that he feels.
***
When he opens his eyes he is in a hospital, his right arm is handcuffed to the bed and there are two figures asleep on some cheap plastic chair.
One is Steve, his hair messier than ever, the other is Wayne, who has a duffle bag at his feet with a faded t-shirt half out.
Eddie will quickly find out that they do not have a home anymore, and all their belongings are in that duffle bag. 
He will learn that he is still the first suspect in the murder of Chrissy Cunnigham.
He will remain handcuffed in the hospital for weeks, but when he will finally leave, hand in hand with Steve fucking Harrington, he will wear a faded t-shirt.
Almost see-through.
20 notes · View notes
taiyomatsumoto · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
156 notes · View notes
quietlyimplode · 6 months
Text
the language of flowers and silent things
Whumptober 2023: day 5 - It’s broken
Warnings: broken bones, nightmares
Word Count: 1.8k (gif not mine)
Summary: grief comes in many forms, sometimes it’s the things we didn’t or couldn’t do.
Tumblr media
A/N: if you’re going through a rough week, know you’re not alone. <3
Masterlist
Whumptober Masterlist
.
2012
NEW YORK
The plane is waiting for exfil.
Clint paces.
Natasha has been in the toilet for a long time.
“Nat?”
He knocks again.
She doesn’t answer.
“Nat?”
He has tried to give her space, but the concern is overriding.
He’d laid it all out.
Blonde hair.
Russian accent.
Natasha.
Dreykov’s daughter.
The woman was at the very least a widow.
What this all meant for Natasha; it was a lot.
On top of that, she was injured.
They’d reached the airport and she’d found the toilet straight away.
“I’m coming in,” he decides.
The door unlocks voluntarily, his words must have held conviction.
Clint pushes it open, and she sits on the toilet topless.
Red burns litter her side, not deep, just red.
Bruises adorn the other side.
Wounds on both sides, she moves slow, but he doesn’t think it’s the pain.
“You’re sure?” she asks.
“Yelena is here?”
Clint shrugs and nods.
“I think so.”
He motions for her to stand and turn.
“Nat, are your ribs broken? How did you land?” he asks, quietly, looking the the bruise, touching it gently and feeling her flinch.
“If she’s here, we have to go after her.”
Of course that’s her take away.
Her sister, probably brainwashed, under the control perhaps of someone, certainly working for someone else, and Natasha just wants to save her.
“We need to strap these,” he tells her even though she’s not registering anything, not the pain, or realisation; just that her sister is here.
The difficulty is that if he straps her ribs, he’s going to irritate the burns.
“Does it hurt?”
She looks to him.
“She’s alive, I couldn’t save her, I didn’t go after her, and now she’s here.”
He sighs.
He grabs the strapping tape and best he can, he straps what he assumes is cracked ribs.
Sad eyes look at him.
“She’s here, Clint, we have to help her.”
He doesn’t answer.
Yelena just tried to kill her and all Natasha wants to do is help.
“We should go,” he says softly, motioning to the plane.
“But if you don’t want to, I’ll follow you.”
Natasha stares at him.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
.
They speed to the only other airfield in the surrounding area, assuming that if anywhere, Yelena’s exfil may come and get her from there.
There’s no one there when they arrive and Natasha asks to stay and wait.
Clint agrees, their plane long since gone, it doesn’t matter now, they’re traveling home in economy.
They sit in the car, Natasha clearly uncomfortable.
He sighs, handing her water.
“Where else would she go?”
Natasha shrugs.
“I don’t know, I don’t know her anymore,” she says sadly, “was it really her Clint?”
He sure hopes so, because the amount of hope he’s given her is slightly too much pressure.
“Describe her?”
He does the best he can, telling her he’ll tell it to Steve too so he can draw her.
She smiles at that, a strange idea but one that seems to calm her slightly.
“You need burn cream,” he mutters as she adjusts again.
“Do you think Fury will care that our surveillance mission has ended in the mark being killed?”
Clint smirks.
“Yes, but I think for once not our fault.”
Sunset is beautiful.
Red clouds are surrounded by even brighter orange ones, makes the sky burn bright.
“What are you going to say to her?” he asks tentatively.
“If she comes, what are you going to do?”
She moves tentatively, wounds and bones clearly sore.
“I’m sorry?… I don’t know. What do you say to a sibling for abandoning them. I’m sorry, doesn’t seem to cut it.”
Clint grasps her hand.
“You didn’t abandon her Natasha, you were physically ripped apart.”
Natasha doesn’t meet his eyes.
“But I didn’t go looking.”
He could tell her that she had her own difficulties, her own demons and challenges, her own route to go down; one that wasn’t easy, but he doesn’t think it would do much; and definitely wouldn’t absolve her of her guilt.
They’re silent in the car.
“She’s not coming is she?” Natasha says as the night turns into morning.
Clint doesn’t want to say no, but it’s as he feared.
She’s not coming.
.
They stay the night at a hotel in the city, their plane not leaving until the following night.
He’d called the mission in, and of course Tony had contacted back.
Clint wonders at what time he had hacked communications.
Tony had offered to send a plane, and then on a whim had upgraded them if they promised to come back to tower.
Clint had taken one look at Natasha and agreed.
What’s another month at a place they both feel safe?
He thinks sometimes on the lives he took, let’s it wash over him. Natasha has so much more on her hands, he wonders how she copes.
She stays in the shower for a long time, he thinks he can hear her crying but doesn’t comment on it as she exits.
He makes it a point to tell her it’s not her fault, as he redoes her bandages and rubs some burn cream they got from the the local pharmacy.
Clint crawls into bed and watches as she stares out the window, knowing she probably won’t come to bed.
.
Natasha doesn’t want to sleep, it won’t be restful and her unconsciousness will likely be worse than her thoughts are now.
She considers leaving Clint to go and find Yelena, but given her current state, she doubts that she would get far.
What she hasn’t told him, is that when the building exploded she managed to get into the bath, the shockwave of fire covering over her, the porcelain protecting the majority of her, but not enough as the roof had fallen.
Arms up, she’d felt the debris hit bone and she suspected that the bone in her left arm was broken.
It feels fitting.
Her whole body hurts, but it’s her being that hurts more.
She knows Clint is right when he tells her that it’s not her fault.
But she’s also right when she says she should have gone after Yelena, once she was free.
Not waited until aliens came to the world and her sister found her.
Fatigue pulls at her.
Against her better judgement, she closes her eyes curled on the couch, and drifts into a light sleep.
.
White dress, black veil, guns raised, Natasha advances forward.
Black dress, white veil, her doppelgänger holds the gun.
Striking first, Natasha’s movement is mirrored, they fight hard, even though neither gain the upper hand, strike after strike, they hit each other. Dresses ripped, veils used as makeshift nooses, they draw knives and use them as part of the dance.
Feigning right and swapping hands, Natasha twirls the knife and stabs hard, only to find she’s impaled her sister.
“Finally, huh?” she gurgles blood, “finally the one to kill me?”
Natasha stares in fright.
“No! Nononononono! What are you — Yelena!? Why??”
Hands cover the stab wound as she tries to compress the blood back in.
“I’ll save you. Okay!? Just hold on. I’ll save you.”
Yelena smiles an ugly smile, blood in her teeth.
“There is no saving me.”
.
The tower is exactly as they left it, and both Steve and Tony greet them as they arrive home.
Natasha retreats but Clint stays.
He clasps hands with Steve, moving to the kitchen together. Tony asks if Natasha’s okay, and he shrugs; vowing not to stay with the others too long as he needs to take her medical.
“I need some favours,” he asks.
Turning to Steve, he asks if he can draw him a picture from a description.
Steve agrees of course, but looks uneasy.
“It’s not like… bad is it?”
Clint laughs at his friend.
“Nah it’s not, it’ll help Nat though,” he tells him.
Steve seems to brighten at that, and leaves to get his pencils and a sheet of paper.
Tony nods up to the tower of residence.
“What happened?”
Clint sighs not wanting to tell Natasha’s story.
“How good are you at finding people?” he asks, mysteriously.
Tony frowns.
“I’m the best, why?”
Clint smirks.
“I thought so. Think you can find some people for me?”
Tony smiles back.
“It’s be my pleasure.”
.
He enters the room, finding Natasha sitting in the corner, blanket on her lap.
“What did you tell them?”
He produces a picture and hands it to her.
From the change in her face, he knows the run in was with Yelena.
Gently, she stokes the side of the picture.
“Steve?” she asks.
“Yeah,” he breathes, “he’s not half bad huh?”
“It’s her,” she sniffs, biting her lip.
“Tony?”
“He’s got some work to do.”
Clint sits close to her, squeezing in tightly.
“I asked him to look for Barney too, whilst he’s at it.”
She rests her head on his shoulder, clutching the picture staring at it.
“Do you think he’s out there too?”
Clint feels his heart sink like it always does when he thinks about Barney.
He wants so badly to say yes but he pauses and chooses not to answer.
“Did you know his actual name is Charles? He’d punch me when I’d call him it and get so angry. No one really knew, and even the teachers wouldn’t mention it.”
Natasha shakes her head against his shoulder.
“Barney was his second name?”
He nods.
“Charles Barney Barton.”
Natasha adjusts and then lays back against him.
“Sometimes I wonder if my name was always Natasha. I wonder if her name was always Yelena; or if they named us, gave us names they thought would fit in.”
She sighs heavily.
“Sorry.”
He kisses the top of her head, his heart sore at all her unknowns and all of his.
“Either way we’ll have some answers huh?”
She turns to him.
“If the outcome is not what we want, if we find them, and they’re… not who we… not what we..”
“If they can’t be a part of our lives?” Clint supplies.
“Mm yeah, if they can’t be that… do we still do it?”
“Do what?”
“Marriage,” Natasha mumbles.
He can’t help the laugh that bubbles up.
“I don’t know. Do you want to? We promised when we were at deaths door but never really spoke about it more. Is it something you want to do?”
She considers the question and nods.
“I want to be with you. Only you. You are mine, and I am yours.”
She says the words like Clint says them to her when she asks him if he loves her.
“Then we better get on with finding them, hmm? Before more aliens come.”
She smiles.
“Yeah. I think I’d like that.”
.
36 notes · View notes
one-piece-aus · 1 year
Text
Whumptober Day 5
Brook x Reader
Tumblr media
"Brook... I'm getting cold," you whisper, pulling your jacket closer together.
"Here, take my coat," Brook offered, placing the garment around your shoulders. "I don't need it, after all, I am just a skeleton, yohohoho."
You laugh at his skull joke, it might have been annoying at other times, but you'll take the light heart laugh. Brook kept you in high spirits despite your situation, you only lasted this far thanks to him.
"Mmmmm, I feel warmer already," you told as you snuggled into his coat. "Any luck finding the exit to the cave?"
"No, I keep getting lost and have to go through the walls to come back." Brook shook his head.
"It would be easier if we didn't have actually walk through the tunnel to get out. Er, I guess I'm the only one doing the walking..." You glance down at Brook's broken leg.
It had broken when the two of you fell into the caves, yours were only bruised. You had been carrying him around and he has been using his spirit to find the correct path. You've avoided dangerous traps and animals that could've killed you. You two made a great team, yet time wasn't on your side.
"Let's get some sleep for now," you suggested and yawned. 
You push your back against the stone wall, trying to get cozy. You use Brook's coat as a blanket, though your eyes couldn't help but notice some holes. He must've not noticed the holes since the attire didn't exactly hug his bones. You sigh, knowing it won't provide much warmth for you but your eyes tear off the jacket when you notice Brook using your thighs as a pillow.
"Just getting comfortable, yoho," Brook sheepishly told you.
You break into a fond smile and pet his lash afro. "Just wake me up when you do alright."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I think that was the best sleep I ever had," Brook yawned and stretched his bone arms. 
He rubbed his nonexistent eyes, still waking up. He became puzzled when he felt something cold that wasn't made of stone. Glancing at the source, he noticed your hands were holding onto his, they were freezing. His eyes grazed over the rest of your form and saw you were shaking in your sleep, small clouds coming from your nose.
"[Y/N]!" Brook cried alarmed and started to shake you awake.
"Hm?" You stirred, fluttering your eyes open. You sat up and a wave of freeze glossed over you. Instantly you brought your knees up to your chest, shaking like a leaf. "Why- why is it so c-c-cold?"
"The night's wind must've blown into the cave last night," Brook theorized and tried to use his coat to cover you better, that's when he realized how useless it was. He felt your fingertips, they were beginning to discolour. This wasn't good. "Uh, here I'll warm you up with my own heat."
Brook wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You let him but still shivered in his arms. A realization cracked in Brook's mind and for the first time, he hated how he was just a skeleton. You look up at Brook, hearing sniffles, and saw him crying.
"What's- what's wrong Br-Brook?" you stutter with your chattering teeth. You place a hand on his cheek, trying to wipe away the tears.
"It's no use," Brook sobbed and cupped your cold hand in his. You felt the dryness of the bones and you felt them get colder as he held your hand. "I can't make you warmer. I have no heat to give to you. All I have are these useless bones that can't bring you any warmth. What kind of person can't bring warmth to the one they love?"
"Brook..." You slowly hugged the skeleton despite your shivering state. You rubbed his back, trying to reassure him.
"If only I had flesh. If only I were alive then I could provide you with the warmth you need," Brook cried on your shoulder. "I wish was human again."
351 notes · View notes
tomhoppusdelonge · 3 months
Text
19 notes · View notes
ssa-atlas-alvez · 1 year
Text
Whumptober Day 5 (BAU x reader)
No. 5 EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS
Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia
Warnings: guns, gun shot wound, bleeding, passes out, passing out, hospitals, waking up in hospitals
Word count: 1289
"(Y/N), I want you to interview Davis, he's a key witness," Hotch said, "I'd normally send someone with you but we're swamped,"
You gave a nod, "No problem, I'll be back in a bit. Hey, maybe I'll return with coffee," Everyone (minus Hotch and Rossi) let out an 'ooo'
It had started so well. That should have been a red flag. Davis invited you in, asked if you wanted anything to drink (which you politely declined) and then you began questioning him. You asked what it was he saw (any information he could provide you with) and he did. He told you about how he was the one who found that body, about how It was running smoothly. Your first solo questioning (sort of). And then you noticed that he began to add details that hadn't been released to the media. So you challenged it. And then he drew the gun out.
You put your hands in the air, anxiety stabbing through your chest. This was not a good situation to say the least. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable solution here, Mr Davis.”
He laughed, “Yeah, I kill you and get the hell out of the country!”
“Or, and hear me out, you confess and get a reduced sentence?”
“I prefer no sentence,”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have killed seven people then,” The comment slips before you realise you were even thinking about it. In a fit of rage, Davis squeezes the trigger.
Pain spreads throughout your stomach and it takes a moment for you to realise what's happened. You lift a hand to the wound, tilting your hand as you check to see if you're really bleeding or if this is a weird dream. But you're bleeding. Knees buckling, you fall to the floor, not feeling the pain from the fall, only the pulsing of the gunshot wound.
'Just a witness my ass,' You think to yourself.
You’re on the floor, hand over your wound, blood slowly seeping through the gaps in your fingers.
You need to move, you need to do something, anything. That's all you're thinking about, anxiety pumping through your veins. You need to move. You're not sure where to go, you're never even completely sure where you are. You just know you shouldn't sit still.
You manage to stand, it's quite a hassle, but you manage it. It leaves you in a lot of pain, but you try your best to breathe through it.
Call someone. You should probably call someone. With one hand on your wound, the other fumbles for your phone. When you unlock it, your hands are trembling. You tap on the phone icon, phoning the person who comes up on your most recent.
"(Y/N)?" Morgan. You draw in a deep breath.
"I need help," You don't know what else to say. What else could you say?
"What's wrong?"
"Davis is the unsub," You revealed, "And he kind of shot me,"
There's a loud swear on the other side of the phone and muffled yelling and then a commotion. Then Derek's back on the phone, "How bad is it?"
"Er, stomach, it's not spraying or anything. Is that good? That's good right?" You asked, trying to keep your voice level. "Spraying means it's hit an artery, right?"
Derek answers yes, you can hear the base of the chair click when he stands up. "I'm going to stay on the phone as long as I can," Derek said, "But I'm going to be in the car, so reception might be bad,"
"Could connect Garcia to the call," You suggest weakly. Derek, on the other end, nods and motions for Spencer to start that.
Soon enough Garcia’s voice floods your ears and you smile. She always brightens your day. "Hey," You greet, she replies.
"Alright, (Y/N), we might-" and then he cuts out.
"I think he's gone," You observe.
"That's alright, they're close by and I'm here too,"
You nod, "Exactly, I have the knower of all knowledge with me,"
Garcia gives a chuckle, forcing the tears out of her voice, "You're going to be fine."
You give a small hum as your eyes begin to feel heavy. "(Y/N)?" Garcia’s voice is urgent and you try your best to reply but all that comes out is a quiet groan. "(Y/N)?! The team are nearly there, just hold-"
Your world fades to black before she finishes.
"(Y/N)?"
"Morgan?" Derek strained his ears, hearing his name. Was that Penelope? "Morgan?" He spotted the phone on the floor, a foot away from you, he reached over, snatching it from the floor before placing it to his ear.
"Babygirl?"
"Morgan! My chocolate god of thunder, how's the baby agent?"
"He's unconscious but alive,"
"Tell Hotch I'm on the next plane down," She said before hanging up. Derek, when Hotch walked into the room, relayed the message. Hotch just nodded, knowing there was nothing that was going to change her mind.
With the message relayed, Derek turned to you. His left hand still placed firmly on your wound. His right hand joined his left, placing more pressure. You stirred at the additional force.
"(Y/N)? Come on kid, we need you to wake up,"
There's a light tapping on your cheeks, but you couldn't really feel it. You couldn’t really feel anything. You felt like you're floating.
"(Y/N)?"
The voice is comforting. It feels like home. You think you slowly turn and face them, but you can't be sure, colours all a blur in front of you. "M'rgan?"
You hope you're right, you're relying on the sound of his voice alone.
The owner of the voice nods, confirming its him. "Yeah, (Y/N), its me. You need to stay awake."
"Trying," You said, fighting against your eyelids again.
"I know, kid, I know," His hands are red and glisten in the light.
"Your hands are bleeding," You noted, weakly pointing at his hands. Morgan looked at up something behind you before he looked back at you.
"Don't worry, I'm alright,"
"Okay," You whispered. "Stomach hurts,"
"I'm sorry,"
"Why you sorry?" You feel breathless, why can't you seem to just catch your breath?
"I didn't get here fast enough," You don't understand what he means, didn't get here fast enough for what?
"Don't understand,"
“You called, said you needed help.”
You nodded, you remembered that, “Y’ah, other M’rgan’s got it covered,” You dismissed, you looked at Morgan, “Where’s H’tch?”
“I’m right here,” Hotch answered.
You gave a small hum, looking in the direction the voice came from, “He… He said he was gonna leave the country,”
“Garcia’s checking airport security.” Hotch said, “We’ll find him.”
You nodded. Good. That was good. "Okay,"
"Paramedics are close by," Morgan said, eyes flicking up from your stomach to your eyes. "I know it hurts and I know you're tired, but you need to stay awake, alright?"
"Kay," You nod slightly, "How close is close?"
"Real close," Younod, at least you think you do. They're close. That's good, that means you can rest your eyes just for a moment. "(Y/N)?! (Y/N) hey! You need to stay awake! You need-"
You felt light when you woke up, a different kind of light. Less like you were floating, you were grounded but felt weightless. It was oddly nice.
Then it all hit you and you were slammed back into your body. You groan when the pain edged its way in. "Oh, I think he's waking up,"
"Garcia?" You force your eyes open, giving a sloppy grin. "Heyy,"
"The next time you get yourself hurt like that, I will kill you, kill I tell you!" You nodded, giving a small chuckle, wincing at the pain.
"Okay, okay, fine."
148 notes · View notes
oneweirdbookaddict · 6 months
Text
Whumptober day five
Wars has a bad time. Wind witnesses. And also gets beat up.
734 words
Warnings for general Cia creepiness, nonconsensual touching that isn't described much, and just on the shoulder, and one (1) bad word. Let me know if anyone wants anything else!
Edit: Forgot to mention this gets a continuation tomorrow!
~~~~
Wars stares up at the room. 
Slowly walks in. 
He hesitates, glancing in. It’s a beautiful room- dark, hardwood floors, gorgeous windows that allow light to spill through, decorated with paintings and tapestries and other works of art. 
But Wars is focused on something on the floor in the center of the room, looking almost… unsteady as he walks. 
He follows Wars into the room, frowning. “Wars? You ok?” He asks, and Wars nods slowly. 
But he clearly isn’t. He’s pale, eyes wide, hand gripping his sword. 
The second he steps into the room, the door behind them slams shut. 
Wars’ already wide eyes widen further. “Wind-” 
But before the captain can finish his sentence, something slams into him and sends him flying back. 
“Wars!” he yelps, grabbing his sword. 
Before he can even look around, a dark purple something slams into him and sends him into the door. Head smacking painfully, seeing stars before he can shake it off. 
“Cia.” He can hear Wars choke. 
“Well, hello there. It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?” A woman’s voice says. And then there’s a horrible crunching sound, a yell of pain, and a woman laughing. 
“Wars!” He yells, scrambling to his feet. Follows the noise- 
“Wind! No!” 
Too late. Something- a whip- gets him right in the side, cutting through his skin easily. He leaps back, hand grasping at his side. 
“Wind- run!” 
“Like hell.” He mutters. 
Raises his sword and charges at the woman- only to get blasted back again immediately. 
He tumbles to the ground, body aching. Something in his arm is broken, he can tell quickly. His side is bleeding badly. And his head spins and aches. 
His eyes widen, catching movement- and he manages to roll out of the way just in time.
The whip-thing slams into the ground where he was just a moment ago, cracking the ground and sending debris flying everywhere. 
The villain- he can no longer remember what Wars had called her- laughs. 
He yells in fustration, glaring at the woman- sorcerer- thing. “Give us a fair fight!” 
Breathes past the awful pain in his side, gritting his teeth. 
“Oh, child. There’s no such thing as a fair fight. You take advantage of your enemy’s weakness or you lose.” 
A smile that chills him to the bone. 
“And it took a few tries, but I found out just how to do that with him!” 
And she walks over to Wars, a hand brushing lightly over his cheek. The captain flinches, eyes closing. A bloody gash over his eye looks awful, his knee is… something is definitely very wrong with it. This is bad. 
“You leave him alone.” He growls. 
“Sailor.” Wars says quietly. 
“Leave him alone!” He demands, ignoring his friend. 
“Wind, enough!” Wars snaps, but the captain once again flinches as the woman’s hands brush over his shoulders. 
“He looks just like you. Bit too old to be yours, though, isn’t he?” The woman whispers. He can hear it, anyway. He’s sure that was her intent. 
Rage flashes through Wars’ eyes, but that’s the only reaction the captain gives. 
“Let him go, Cia. It’s me you want, not him.” The captain says quietly. 
“No!” He shouts, but both people ignore him. 
The woman- Cia- considers this. 
“And what will you do, in return? Huh, hero? I let him go. What do I get out of it?” She asks, almost teasingly. 
Wars’ eyes close again. “I’ll- I’ll go with you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? I’ll go with you. Willingly. Just… let him go. Don’t hurt him.” 
A long moment of tense silence. He shakes his head frantically, but Wars won’t look at him. 
Then- Cia waves her hands, and magic slams him to the ground. 
“We have a deal.” The sorcerer says, taking Wars’ arm and helping him to his feet. 
“No!” He screams again, trying to shove himself to his feet, to sit up, to do anything, but his body won’t move. “No! Wars! Wars! You leave him alone- don’t touch him! Hey! You listening to me?! You’d better hope I don’t get up because I’m going to find your sorry ass and kill you!” He screams. 
Cia laughs as they slowly walk away, the captain limping heavily. 
“Oh, child. I wish you the best of luck.” 
And they’re gone.
~~~~
18 notes · View notes