#the virus part had me wheezing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

defensivelee · 12 days

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Alien Alien: Encephalitic×Lullaby

The Prince of Orange is infected with a strange virus never before seen in the Netherlands. Supposedly it will kill him, they say it all the time, but when you hear that this or that or the other thing will kill your Prince...well, Bentinck's patience is stretched a little thin.

I would post this on AO3 but I don't have a proper reference post yet, so I think people who find it will just be very confused. It'll be there eventually, maybe?

CW: illness, religion, attempted murder, cannibalism, violence, period-typical homophobia, sexual tension involving insects, mentions of drool, implied/referenced unreality.

Story under cut, please enjoy :)

The Defender of the Faith was but one of the species of insects that dominated the Netherlands; though they had been chosen by God to far outrun the intelligence and advancements of the other, insentient beasts, they still found themselves hunted on their own land as the prey of larger beings.

Their Prince could chase off a hungry spider with a few swipes, drive a sword through a frog’s eye, in no small part due to Johan de Witt’s mentoring of the little spiderling— but good luck getting the Prince to admit that. Yet it was not in one of these oversized monsters that William found his match.

They said it was something like rabies, caused by a virus that had somehow survived countless journeys through galaxies and many, many species. Hans William Bentinck shamefully knew very little about any of those illnesses; even his database found almost nothing. He only figured out that it could kill his Prince when he first came across the symptoms.

In that moment, despite William’s head being held up by a few pillows, his breathing was still labored, wheezing, his tail lashing furiously under the blankets as Bentinck approached. His lips were damp as he ran his tongue over them, again and again with an anxious fervor.

“Your Highness,” Bentinck greeted him with a dip of his head. So-called emotions had been coded into him long before, and yet he still couldn’t name many of the ones that came to him, such as this one he felt currently as he stared down at William.

“Hans,” the Prince managed. “What- what are you doing—?”

“Did you think I was going to leave you alone here?” Bentinck asked. He knelt beside the bed, reaching a hand out towards William’s head. “You know I am immune to illness, so why shouldn’t I come see you?”

William flicked his antennae back and snapped his jaws at Bentinck’s hand. Bentinck drew his hand back just in time, buzzing with irritation.

“Please don’t do that.”

William buzzed as well, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. His smaller eyes were screwed shut, as if the room was much too bright for all of them at the same time, even with the dim neon lamps flickering from the walls and floor.

“They tell me you cannot drink,” Bentinck went on. “So I wanted to try because I hear you keep trying to bite everyone.”

Another buzz from William.

“I think there are more civil ways of telling someone you don’t like something,” said Bentinck. “I think you can shake your head and just hide.”

William’s eyes widened with outrage, and he turned to Bentinck, trying to sit up. “No- no more hiding—!” He broke off with a fierce cough, falling back down with a shudder running through his body, and Bentinck hurriedly pulled the blanket back over him.

“Very well, you don’t have to,” he said. “But you don’t have to bite, either. You’ll get other people sick, William.”

William said nothing. His tail kept lashing in its erratic manner, and Bentinck realized then that he wasn’t doing it willingly. It swung before him like a noose, the spikes on it shaking and producing a rattling sound like a serpent’s tail.

Actually, he’d never heard a rattlesnake. He’d never even seen one, but he knew the sound as sure as he knew his own name. The name that William had chosen for him. So he decided that the snake sounded like William and not the other way around.

“Well, where is the water?” Bentinck glanced to the side, and William hissed, shaking his head rapidly.

“You have to drink something.” The android stood up and hesitated as he took the bowl of water from beside the bed. He could see the light of his eyes reflected right back at him.

Don’t spill it. His fans whirred faster for a moment, and then he turned to William, holding the bowl up to his lips.

William’s eyes widened, and he batted his claws out with another hiss, his tail slapping Bentinck in the legs. Bentinck pulled the bowl away with a sigh.

“Why don’t you want it? You need it.” He lifted William’s head in his free hand before quickly pulling his hand back with a shocked buzz. “Oh, look at how you are drooling!”

William opened his mouth, and Bentinck could see the saliva drip down from his deadly canines. He shook his head in disbelief.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he murmured. “Please, William, could you at least try?” He held the bowl out again, and this time William sank his teeth into Bentinck’s arm.

“Oh, um, ow, I think?” There was no pain from that, but he could feel the saliva begin to dampen his sleeve, too warm and too heavy. He shuddered, setting the bowl down before gently prying William’s jaws off of him.

William lay back, wheezing once more. “I am sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s...no problem.” Bentinck lifted his arm and realized there were tiny tears in the fabric where William’s teeth had buried themselves, the infected saliva aside. That would be a problem; not for him, but for all the Defenders he spoke to on the daily. The fingers he had used to pull William off of him, too, had the saliva on them, slipping deep into the openings where they bent.

“Don’t bite anyone else,” he said firmly. “Please.”

So William would not drink. He would only keep biting, Bentinck knew, and by experience he also knew that William’s bite force was possibly one of the strongest in the galaxy. Consequently he suggested to even the physicians that maybe they should keep their distance unless Bentinck was there.

He spent the rest of the night out under the waving flowers, blocking out the light of the moons, far from any Defender. On occasion he would blink to increase the brightness of his eyes as he paced in front of a stream.

Just wash your hands, he told himself. What are you waiting for?

He couldn’t do it, not ever and not now. He could almost understand William’s reactions to being given water, if only William would certainly die if he lapped up every last drop in the bowl.

But he’s not going to die. It would make him better.

He has to get better. He looked up to the stars and crouched down in front of the water. He held his hand out, cautiously dipping his fingers in for a second or two before pulling back again.

There. That’s enough, isn’t it? He buzzed as he examined the water dripping from his hand, then dried it on his coat before he had to stare at it any longer. Whoever heard of a wet robot? How unnatural.

No damage was done. All his systems were functioning properly and up to date.

He lifted his head, at that moment hearing a sort of miserable weeping behind him, sobs of a lady getting closer. He gasped and stood up, looking wildly about him before realizing that through the leaves he heard the steady crawling of an insect. A large one, too.

The animal dragged itself out into the light of Bentinck’s eyes. It was a green praying mantis, certainly a female judging from her size alone. He ducked back down to make himself smaller in front of her, and she looked at him, holding one of her forelegs up to her face. She was the one crying, though without any hint of tears.

“Oh, android, forgive me, I did not mean to interrupt- whatever you were doing,” she said in rather coarse Dutch, trying to speak through her gasps. “I- I had nowhere else to go.”

“It’s no problem,” Bentinck said softly. Somehow he wasn’t awfully shocked that a praying mantis should be speaking to him. Maybe they had always spoken to the Defender of the Faith, but none had ever listened. He could listen now.

“Thank you,” she said, a little quieter now. “Thank you.” She crawled around him, towards the water, and he sat down, looking curiously up at her. He had never dared to get closer to a mantis, de Witt had always forbidden it, but what could they do to him?

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “If I may know.”

“Oh, I suppose,” the mantis replied. “No one else will listen.”

“The Prince calls me a good listener.”

“The Prince himself?” She tilted her head to the side. “Well, may your android ruler reign long.”

“Oh, no, no, we- I do not- androids have no monarchy,” he said, shaking his head. “The very thought, robots ruling themselves! No, I work for the Defender of the Faith.”

“And who is that?”

“You have never seen them?” he said incredulously. “They’re magnificent Asterothiriots. They hunt the males of your kind sometimes.”

“Then they should come for my husband next!” the mantis cried then. “I cannot take it anymore! I- I cannot love him, much as I have tried! He will not listen, he will not even look at me.” Her voice shook, as if she would start crying all over again. “And I have been faithful.”

“Is that why you are here?” Bentinck asked.

“Yes, I just had to get away,” she said. She bowed low, burying her head in her forelegs. “He has no heart, though I suppose I should not have expected him to fit one in his tiny body.”

“Of course, he’s much smaller than you,” Bentinck murmured.

“He never speaks to me,” she went on. “And when he does, it’s only to be cruel. I feel as if I can never please him.”

“No man should treat his wife like that,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “What is he thinking he’ll get away with?”

“That’s just it, android.” She shook her head helplessly. “No one knows. He hides behind so much, but I just know- I know there is something there. There has to be.” She sighed. “I wish I knew how to find it.”

“Oh, trust me, it is very easy,” Bentinck said, reaching out to pat her on her leg. “You must look inside him.”

“Inside him?”

“Yes,” he said with a firm nod. “That is what you do with a robot. If something is not working right, you open him up and look inside. And then you repair him.”

“I must...repair him?” She sounded skeptical. “Why must it all be up to me?”

“Well, nothing of mine is up to me,” Bentinck said. “I would know love if I could. Maybe he knows nothing of it, either.”

“Love is something difficult to define. Maybe you do know it and you haven’t realized.”

“I- I don’t believe so,” he said, laughing a very metallic laugh.

“Why not? Already you have been much kinder to me than my husband has been in all the months I have known him.”

“Nothing is real within me.”

“It has a real effect on me,” she insisted. “And does that not make it real enough, Bentinck?”

He thought it very sweet of her to remember something he had never even told her. He shrugged his shoulders.

“To a girl like you, perhaps anyone looks kind,” he said. “Anyone that isn’t him.”

“I should have known,” she said, her voice hardening. ��You and him— you crawl in the dirt like worms and never bother to stick your head out to the skies. Only when it rains. And by then it will be too late.”

Bentinck was silent. In the rain? He’d never come out in the rain.

“Very well, I will open him,” she said. “I will tell you how it goes. Thank you, Bentinck.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” he said. And he meant it.

The next morning, a dark, early morning, he was with William again, who had only worsened over the night. The bristles on his insect arms shook, and he bit down on his pillow constantly, his tail flicking from side to side in a manner that reminded Bentinck of when the Prince was younger. He loved to bite de Witt, constantly, and it was only acceptable because de Witt was the one who had taught him to bite in the first place. And William’s tail would always wag, like he found it very exciting.

Bentinck sat on the floor beside him and stroked William’s head, being very careful not to tangle the damp curls in his heavy fingers. William twitched once, twice, then sprang up and bit Bentinck’s hand.

“Please don’t do that,” the android tried, though he didn’t expect William to listen. “Do you want to try water now?”

William chewed on one of Bentinck’s fingers and shook his head.

“Please don’t do that,” Bentinck repeated. “Please don’t bite my hand.” He wanted to pull away, but it was as if the warmth trapped him there, the drool seeping into the open parts of his hand and wrist.

Please don’t...do that. He buzzed nervously and shook his head, unable to say more.

William looked up at him, and Bentinck took the chance to jerk his hand away, shaking off the excess saliva. He flexed his fingers to check if they still moved, but he had no time to run a system scan as William was snapping his jaws at him again.

“Alright, calm down,” Bentinck said, shuffling back. “What is it?”

William blinked, digging his claws into his blankets and bowing his head. Bentinck realized he was trembling.

“Do you think I will die?” he asked faintly.

“You?” Bentinck shook his head. “No.” He never once believed that of William. God was always watching the Defender of the Faith, for one reason or the other.

“They say it used to be fatal. Every time.” William paced on the bed, turning around to nip at his tail.

“Used to be. The chances of survival are higher now.”

“What makes you think that I will survive this?” he snapped. “Look at me, Hans!”

“I am looking.”

“I should have died,” William said. “I should have been dead long ago.”

“You know there’s a reason you’re still here,” Bentinck said. “Why do you think your life should have been cut short? You know God chose you. You cannot take that for granted.”

“You think this is a gift?” William wheezed out, his eyes widening. It gave him a wilder appearance, one Bentinck would have been afraid of coming across in battle. “Nothing is so simple.”

“Well, it has to be something. At the very least your reason to live.” Bentinck leaned in and cupped William’s face in his hand, carefully avoiding his lips. “Though I think you should live for more.”

“What do you live for, Hanni?” William leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, managing to purr.

“I—” Bentinck paused. “I live for you.”

“I told you you that you did not have to.”

“Then what else should I live for?” The robot shook his head. “I was created for one purpose.”

“So was I,” William retorted.

“Then maybe we can find more reasons to live later on,” Bentinck said. “Right now, you have to focus on getting better. You have to take what they give you, without biting.” He wagged his finger in William’s face, pulling it back just before William’s jaws closed around it. “What did I just say?!”

“I- I don’t know,” William said, backing away. He had always been small, but what he lacked in physical size, he made up for in determination, and, beyond that, spite. But Bentinck couldn’t see any of that in him now; he was just what he was, small.

Oh, William. He sighed and stood up, looking around for the bowl of the water that the physician had left for him.

“Are you not thirsty?” he asked.

“Very.” William glanced at him, lying back down and chewing on his pillow again.

“Then why...why do you refuse the water?”

William’s spikes shook warily at the word. “It scares me.”

“But nothing ever scared you,” Bentinck said. “And we are Dutch, William.”

“Do you fear water?”

“Well, I must. To survive.”

William said nothing, then sat up, turning to look at the bowl of water. Bentinck took it and cautiously held it out to him. Much to his surprise, William did not spring back nor try to bite this time. He shut his eyes and leaned forward, the spikes on his tail shaking rapidly.

He lapped at the water once, then jerked back, coughing and hacking up the few drops he had managed. Bentinck set the bowl aside and rubbed at William’s back.

“Closing your eyes was a good strategy,” he said.

“I- I want to try again,” William said. He shook himself and buried his face in his claws, this time nipping at the blankets.

“Very well,” Bentinck said. “I could try covering your eyes, if you’d like.”

William looked up and nodded. Bentinck brought his hand down on all six of William’s eyes, and the Prince fell still. Even his shaking stopped. The only sign of life from him was his heavy breath.

“Here,” Bentinck said, holding the bowl to William’s lips again. He stroked soothingly at the antennae as William sniffed the air warily and began to lap at the water with his tongue. Much of it he did not swallow, as he appeared to have great difficulty in doing so, coughing as he was, but Bentinck was pleased to see that he was drinking something now.

William made it clear he was done by throwing the hand off of him and biting into the wrist instead, shaking it furiously in his jaws. Bentinck buzzed and looked away to set the bowl down. The water and saliva from William’s mouth was sliding over him, into him, freezing and yet somehow burning him—

Do not say a thing. He covered the speaker on his chest and shut his eyes. Give him time.

Indeed, William did not let go for a long time, and Bentinck sat down on the floor, resting his head on the bed to watch his master slowly fall asleep. By then his hand and wrist felt nearly detached from him, and his fans were whirring faster than before. Somehow, despite the noise from the robot, William fell asleep, purring slightly.

“Very good,” Bentinck murmured, carefully opening William’s jaws and pulling his hand out. It was a little scratched up now, the fingers stiffer as he tested their movement. Or was he imagining it?

Oh, please don’t do that again. He stayed there for a moment as his fans slowed down. William snored softly away as if he had never bitten anyone at all. Bentinck wondered, for the first time, if he would wake up the next morning. He might have prayed, but surely God could not hear the words of an android.

As Bentinck had no reason to stay inside during the night, he made his way back through the plants once more. There were Defenders still out, watching him warily from their places on their flowers and webs. He knew they could smell the sickness on him.

He ignored them and kept walking until they fell behind him and he was sure he was alone. He had dried his hand, but not very well, so the saliva still clung to him and his parts. He hadn’t been imagining it— movement was definitely limited.

He didn’t want to wash his hand, but he remembered his First Law and decided to walk to the stream again, where smaller insects and bacteria swam. He threw off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and shoved both of his hands into the water, scrubbing hard with his fingers.

He hadn’t realized water was so heavy. His movements were not as flexible, and he was relieved to finally pull his arms out. He found he could no longer make a fist with either hand, rather the fingers stopped short before reaching his palm and shook in place.

Reduced mobility. Well, that was going to be a problem.

“Are you doomed to die, android?”

“W-What?” Bentinck looked up, high above into the cattails, where a black spider hung from a small web. “Oh. No, not me. My master might be, though. I mean, I wouldn’t like to think so, but they always say he will. I never believed it.”

“Because you have no concept of death,” said the spider. “You think you live forever.”

“No, only until my plutonium core has reached its half-life,” Bentinck said. “And- and I know what death is.”

“What is it?”

“When life ends,” he said indignantly. “Everyone knows that.”

“I fear you have a dull understanding of the world,” the spider said. “Poor thing. Why is it all so simple to you?”

“I was created to understand the world around me as I see it,” Bentinck replied. “I know what life is as I know what ends it, and that is death.”

The spider barked out a laugh, a highly unnatural sound from its body. “Well, is that what you were seeking when you touched the water?”

“No, I wanted to get clean.”

“Are there not better ways?”

“No, I—” Bentinck paused. “Sometimes the Prince will wipe at my face and hands with bleach, but I never liked it.”

“I assume it is safer than this,” the spider said.

“I suppose, Mijnheer. But he is very ill right now, so I couldn’t ask,” said Bentinck. “And I cannot do it myself.”

“But you can- you think you can touch water?”

“Water I must have an aversion to,” he said. “That is part of my Third Law; I must protect myself from damage. But I can disobey it if it comes in conflict with my First Law, part of which is to stop harm from coming to biological beings. It is not a specifically coded restriction like avoiding dangerous chemicals is.”

“What odd programmers you must have had,” the spider said.

“My mother did very well,” Bentinck protested. “It is for the safety of the Prince and everyone else.”

“You care so much for the safety of your master,” the spider said thoughtfully, raising a leg to his face. “The Prince, is he? Look here upon my web, android, and see all the harm that would have come to your beloved Prince had I not caught it before.”

Bentinck narrowed his eyes. There were flies and mosquitoes tangled in the web, even a bee near the center. All creatures potentially dangerous to Defenders, but nothing William had never fought off.

“Those are just your meals,” he said.

“Ah, ah, ah, Bentinck,” the spider said, shaking his head. “They told me themselves that they were all plotting here, amongst the cattails. They said that they were coming for your Prince, that they would kill him and bring about the rule of the queen bee, who ruled long before he did and will rule for centuries after.”

“The queen bee?” Bentinck buzzed in disbelief. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

“She is a Catholic,” the spider said. “All bees are.”

“Truly?”

“I have met many bees myself. All follow the same God.” He kicked a leg out towards the dead bee in the center of the web. “Including this one.”

“Then why do they produce honey for a Protestant planet?” Bentinck asked.

“Because they had no choice. It was either work for the Defenders, swear allegiance to the Prince...” The spider tilted his head to the side. “Or die.”

“No one ever told me that,” Bentinck said ruefully. He was always sort of offended to hear new information; he was supposed to know everything!

“Why would they?” said the spider. “You would think it unfair.”

“I do not.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“I see.” The spider ducked his head. “You are a very faithful robot, Bentinck. And yet for all your loyalty, it was I who caught these traitors. Not you.”

“You cannot call them traitors if they never had an allegiance to us,” Bentinck said. “They were just a bunch of angry insects.” He stepped forward, precariously closer to the edge of the stream. “And you took care of them, yes? So there is no more problem.”

“Of course, I will be expecting a reward,” the spider said. “I saved the Prince’s life.”

“He could have fought them off himself. He did not need you.”

“Never underestimate the cunning of the queen bee,” the spider went on. “Besides, these ones may be dead, but there are still traitors within your web.”

“You cannot be serious,” Bentinck scoffed. “The Prince knows who he employs. He can get within their heads. He knows where every Defender is at every time.”

“But you said he is ill, yes?” The spider leaned in, crawling onto one of the cattails. “He has no mind for that now. There are Defenders in your midst who would kill for the queen.”

“And- and your prey told you this?”

“I injected them with my venom,” the spider said, “and then they told me everything. They were going to assassinate the Prince, but should they fail, it would be up to their Defender allies.”

“Traitors.” Bentinck’s fans whirred in fury.

“Yes.”

“Who are these men?” the robot demanded. “If you tell me, I will make sure you are rewarded.”

“I do not share such things with the Prince’s little android,” the spider said. “Bring him here, up to my web. I do not mind his illness; he cannot infect me with it.”

“But he may be too weak,” Bentinck said. “Can you not come with me instead?”

“No, it must be here. In my web, it is safe. Safer than any other place in the Netherlands.”

“Safe?”

“Very, very safe. I will protect him. He is my Prince as much as he is yours.” The spider crawled upwards again. “In fact, you must come see how safe it is.”

“What- up there?” A spiderweb had never held Bentinck before.

“Yes.” The spider tilted its abdomen towards him, shooting down a thread of silk. Bentinck lifted his hand to catch it, but as his hand could not close around it, he felt it slip through his fingers, getting caught there.

“Oh, it’s...very sticky,” he said. “And a little thicker than what we— than what the Defenders produce.”

“I do take pride in it,” the spider said. “Nothing escapes my web, Bentinck. Now come up here, come see it.”

“Shall I climb the plant—?”

“Yes, I will pull you up.”

Bentinck brought the silk up to his mouth and clamped his jaws around it. It was a better hold than the one he could take with his stiff hands. Instead, he climbed up the cattail with them, which bent slightly under his weight, but was surprisingly strong enough to hold him as he made his way up to the web.

The spider, too, was strong, helping him up and moving back onto his web as Bentinck got closer. He pulled Bentinck onto the web, and the android lay back on it, staring up at the sky. He was closer to the stars.

“You have a nice view up here,” he said. He looked down and realized he still had the silk in his mouth. He tried to lift a hand to pull it out, but it was stuck to the silk he lay on. “Oh, I- I am sorry—”

The spider stared at him. “What did I say, Bentinck? Nothing escapes my web.” He severed the silk that still connected them with his fangs and began to crawl towards Bentinck. “You have nothing to apologize for, save perhaps to your master for betraying him.”

“What are you talking about?” It seemed to Bentinck that the more he struggled, the more the silk stuck to him.

“You will bring him to me,” the spider said, “so I can kill him.”

“No- no, I will not!” Bentinck buzzed in terror as the spider looped silk around his limbs, pulling his arms behind him. “Please don’t do that—!”

“The Prince is a shameful excuse for a ruler,” continued the spider calmly. “Peace will come only when the queen bee rules the universe, but you only know what you are told.”

“Nothing can kill William!” His arms having been tied back, he kicked out at the spider, who hissed and backed away. “And I certainly will not allow you to do so!”

“They all say that, until they get a taste of my venom,” the spider said. He shot silk out at Bentinck’s legs and pulled hard on it, pinning them back against the web.

I can’t move! He buzzed again like a helpless insect as the spider crawled up behind him.

“Your Prince was a mistake,” he said. With that, he dug his fangs into Bentinck’s neck, and Bentinck tossed his head back with a metallic shriek. The fangs had not pierced through his metal, but he felt the venom that they injected slip through the opening in his neck, leaking into the parts within his chest. It was like a snake in him.

“Mijnheer- please don’t— please—” He couldn’t even finish a sentence, breaking off with his miserable, broken buzzing. He was sounding more and more like static.

But the venom was still going, and when the spider at last stepped away, he felt it dripping through the openings in his legs and feet. The spider snapped some of the threads behind him, and he fell forward with a cry, towards the water. The silk had not let go, however, instead leaving him dangling upside down over the water.

Oh, my God! “Please don’t do that, please don’t do that, please don’t do that—!” He tried in vain to wrench his arms free from the silk. The venom ran back down to his face, trickling out his lips and eyes like tears.

“How are you still fighting?” the spider said curiously.

“I- I will see to it that you are never forgiven—!” Bentinck’s voice could hardly be heard through the rapid glitches; he did not know if it was caused by the fluid in his parts or simply his fear.

“Bring me the Prince and I will consider not letting you drown,” said the spider, “like you robots know how to do.”

“Caution: vision impaired,” came automatically from Bentinck’s speakers. Indeed, the venom falling from his eyes was pooling in his eyelids, blurring the sight of the water before him.

“Never,” he said of his own volition.

“Then you can die.” The spider snipped the remaining silk from his legs, and Bentinck shut his eyes and mouth, a bit like a Defender who held its breath.

The impact did not come from below, however, like he expected; rather it came from the side, powerful arms throwing him against another cattail. He landed a fly-length away from the stream, and he looked up to see what it was that had saved him.

It was the praying mantis from the other day, staring at him with her wide eyes. “Are you damaged?” she asked him, but Bentinck did not get to answer as the spider jumped from his web and landed in front of him.

“You think you can get someone else to protect you?” he snarled. “Just like the Prince thinks he is so safe. I will kill him, and the queen bee will return, and you will die like all unnatural children do—”

“That is enough from you!” The mantis fluttered her wings and carried herself over the stream. The spider looked up at her and hissed, batting his legs out at her, which she sliced off with a nimble swipe of her foreleg. She hooked her other leg beneath his head and ripped it off without much effort at all.

That there is death. Bentinck shuddered, unable to look away as she kicked the spider’s body away. She landed in front of him and leaned in.

“There, he cannot hurt you anymore,” she said. “Nor anyone else.”

“Did you know him?” Bentinck whispered. It was the only thing he could manage.

“No. But I saw enough.” With the same leg she had used to kill the spider, she tore the silk off of him, and he stretched. “How are you?”

He wiped away the venom from his eyes and lips. “Running system scan.” He paused, then buzzed with alarm. “Moderate moisture detected in critical systems. Mild disruption and impairment of mobility signals.”

“Is that a problem?” the praying mantis asked.

“Yes.” Bentinck nodded, trying to quiet his fans down. They whirred away at full speed, but it seemed like it took more energy out of him than usual. For once, he was exhausted.

“I do not want it fixed,” he said.

“Why not? Is it not akin to illness?” She prodded him in the shoulder and handed him his coat. “And it can make quick work of you, too.”

“I was created to be very- very resistant,” he said, slipping the coat on gratefully. “It’s no problem.”

“Should you sound like that?”

“Like what?”

“You sound a little muffled,” she said. “Muted. Even if you wanted to hide it, you couldn’t.”

“The Prince orders all repairs on me,” he said. “But he cannot notice anything now.”

“What about your Third Law?”

“You know about it?”

“Well, I must.”

Bentinck hummed thoughtfully. “I would hate to cause trouble.” Changing the subject, he asked, “How are things with your husband?”

“I did as you said,” she said, “but it only seems like he has spoken less and less to me. Truthfully, Bentinck, I cannot say if I fixed him at all.”

“It never goes right the first time,” he said. “There is usually a lot of trial-and-error involved in these sorts of things.” He winced. “Trust me, I know. It hurts very much.”

“For him?”

“For everybody involved. That was what my mother used to say, at least; supposedly I was very dangerous to create.” Bentinck shrugged. “I know very little about biological pain, though.”

“If he hurts, then he should tell me,” the praying mantis muttered. “I have tried to say— many times— what he does is hurt me. I tell him everything and yet I cannot tease a single word out of him.”

“Something has to work eventually.”

“I wish things were as simple as you saw them.” She sighed and waved her leg at him. “I must get back to him now. He would still like me at his side.” She helped him up and patted him on the head, accidentally tearing a few strands of the plastic wig out with her claw. “Be careful around spiders from now on.”

“I- I will,” Bentinck said, smoothing down his hair. “It’s one of the first things Defenders are taught.”

The mantis tilted her head to the side but said nothing more.

In the days following Bentinck realized he was trembling, which had never happened before save for a few times when he’d been shocked by the wires the technicians liked to shove in him. But this was something highly unnatural, and every movement, every step forward, felt like it took everything out of him.

Still, he was ordered by the doctors to stay with William, and he obeyed, even when the Prince’s jaws closed around his arms and made him want to vomit. There was a good, nice biological word; it made no sense to him, but it sounded like what he felt in the moment.

It was with this shaking, scratched metal that Bentinck was meant to bathe the filthy Prince with. They said he was getting better, but nobody knew if he was safe to approach yet, or truly how one could become infected at all, so they gave Bentinck some gloves and locked him in a room alone with William and a bathtub.

William immediately scurried to the door, his wide eyes fixed on the water in front of him. He had been able to drink more, but not yet without a great fight on his part.

Well, first of all, this is just too much. Bentinck shook his head and brought the switch down at the side of the door. There was a loud click heard from it, and then the two of them were in total darkness save for the light from Bentinck’s eyes. The light that was, he saw now, much dimmer than before.

“Is that better?” he asked.

William blinked and looked up, his pupils widening to cover much of his eye. He gave a slight nod. Under the spotlight of Bentinck’s eyes, his body fully exposed, the state he was in was all the more shameful— in particular his matted, tangled hair, almost resembling Bentinck’s own.

“Well, you certainly need the bath,” he said. “Come, William, get in.”

“Will it not— should it not hurt you?” William asked. He backed up against the wall, and Bentinck sat beside him.

“If it helps you, it cannot hurt me,” he said. “We can get this over with quickly. It doesn’t have to be so hard.”

“I- I cannot even look at it.” William turned away to nip at Bentinck’s finger, tearing the glove away, much to the android’s relief. “Oh, Hans...why are you shaking so much?”

“I don’t know,” Bentinck said honestly. He suspected it was the venom that had gotten into his parts, maybe that and something else, but it was all just his own theory.

“Are you afraid too?”

“Yes, very.”

“You don’t sound like it.” William bit into Bentinck’s wrist next, tapping his claws against his friend’s thigh.

“I have to sound calm for you,” Bentinck said.

William shook his head. Bentinck sighed, leaned his head back on the wall. Were they just going to sit here uselessly the whole time? The doctors at least wanted him to stop stinking of his own drool.

“Just take a look in, I promise it’s not so bad,” Bentinck said, leading William to the tub. They both peeked in, and then froze, buzzing warily as they stared at the water.

That spider nearly drowned me. He looked into his own eyes, batting at them once with his gloved hand, and as the water fearfully drew back, so did he.

“Just- just think about how nice it will be when it’s over,” he said.

“It will not have to be over if we don’t do anything.” William began to step away again, but Bentinck took his arm, pulling him back in.

“Maybe it will make your fever cool down,” he said. “My mother used to spray water on my core every time I heated up too much.”

“Water on...plutonium,” William said with a lazy flick of his antennae. “I see. And what am I?”

“You are the Prince of Orange, the hivemind ruler of the Defender of the Faith, William Henry—”

“I am all of those things,” William interrupted, “but not made of radioactive substances.”

“I would not be too certain. Your mother was definitely exposed to something before your birth.”

William coughed. “Hilarious. But I am no—” He broke off with another cough, and Bentinck rubbed at his back. “I’m not a- not a robot.”

“Lucky.”

“Unlucky.”

“So lucky.”

“Un-fucking-lucky.”

“How obscene.”

“I’ll cool down, Hans.”

“You have to do this first.” Bentinck held his hand out to William, who gave it the gentlest bite and wagged his tail in what was perhaps amusement. “Please? I want to see you recover.”

William drew back, glowering up at him. “You first.”

“Me? You- you want me to take a bath?”

“Just touch it some more. I want to see it is safe. I would like to- to convince myself.” William lifted his head, and Bentinck glanced uneasily at the water.

“Very well.” He tore off the remaining glove and braced himself before dipping his hands in the water. A dim, tantalizing feeling came over him, but it was by no means peaceful; in turn, it scared him how he wanted to fall in and let the water take him.

“Look how great it is,” he said, his voice blinking in and out in his speakers. “Look— come here, just look at it, William.”

“Is something wrong with you?” William asked, digging his claws into the ground.

“Never. Come here, William, you’re safe. See how safe I am—” He broke off with a buzz as William jumped into the water, splashing it all over his face and clothes.

Oh, no, no, no! Bentinck hurried to undress, and William bit into the side of the tub. Wet clothes were the closest thing to cold that Bentinck could feel.

“That was- that was very, very uncalled for, William,” he said once he was done, shaking himself off. “How are you doing in there?”

William bit down harder, the spikes on his tail shaking so quickly over the water that more of it was spilling out again. Bentinck pushed his tail under the water and stroked at William’s head, emitting a low, constant buzz like the one that Defender mothers used to soothe their children.

“You’re doing well,” he said, smoothing out William’s antennae. “See? If you can stay here, it means that you- you will survive, like you have survived everything else.”

William shut his eyes and let out a weak purr. He brought his insect arms out of the water and tapped them over Bentinck, as if he was attempting to crawl over him, but the rest of his body was still.

What is he doing? Bentinck winced when one came near his face. Kneeling down in front of William, still buzzing, he reached out for the soap, but his shaking hands only knocked the bar into the water. At the noise, William drew back a little.

“Oh- oh, forgive me.” Bentinck scratched William’s head between the antennae. “I have been...unstable as of late.”

“You have?” William opened one of his eyes. “And...why is that?”

“It could be anything.” It wasn’t the full truth, but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either.

Who knows what it was? He shrugged it off and tried to take the soap again, but it kept slipping on his sleek hands.

“Now that I hear it...” William sat up. “Something is wrong with your voice.”

“Nothing is wrong,” Bentinck insisted. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong.” His voice was being overtaken by glitches, his buzzing rising into high-pitched static. “This- this is nothing—”

William covered his ears. “Oh, whatever you say, just stop that noise!”

“Recognized.” Bentinck clamped his mouth shut, slowly bringing his buzz back to the low one William liked. As he did so, the light in one eye flickered, and when it came to again, he saw half of the world in black and white. Well, half of William, who was the world, anyway.

William started to crawl out of the tub, and Bentinck pushed him back in, more water landing on his face. His legs slipped out under him, and he fell forward, slamming his head against the water.

Oh, God, no! He brought his head back up with much effort; water had never been so heavy before. No, it wasn’t the water, he realized, it was all of his body, and he realized now why he had slipped.

My systems are not obeying me. He huffed and sat back, and William frantically jumped out of the tub and onto him, shaking the water and soap onto Bentinck’s face.

“Please don’t do that,” Bentinck said, pushing him off. He let out a frustrated sigh. “You are not going back in easily, are you?”

William narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

“Then that’s that, I suppose.”

Bentinck didn’t care where he found himself that night, he just wanted to get as far away from William as possible. When Defenders spoke of the stench of sickness, he thought he could almost smell it when he was by the Prince, but today it felt overpowering, like it followed him everywhere. He was not ill, though, certainly not— he could survive anything.

Anything except water! He glared at every Defender crossing his path, eventually just kicking out the wheels under his feet and skating past them. He was far less balanced than he usually was, though, and had to grab onto the surrounding plants to keep himself up.

He sat beside a pitcher plant and let out a relieved sigh as the light of the moons fell over him. The constant trembling of his body and the colorless vision of his eye, however, made it impossible to enjoy the moment.

Ugh! He turned his head abruptly to the side and slammed it against the pitcher plant. It didn’t hurt, but it was sudden, so sudden that as the plant wavered, it looked surprised as well.

“Very sorry,” Bentinck said hastily. “This is nothing like me, I swear. I fear that I am breaking, but I am afraid of making it better. I- I don’t know what else to do.”

He looked back down at the ground, only for a small, clever voice to come from the pitcher plant.

“You are breaking?” it asked.

Bentinck nodded. “Yes. Just a little.”

“Let me look at you.”

“You have no eyes...”

“What- of course I do! Who do you think is talking to you?” The plant leaned forward, and Bentinck shuffled back.

“The, uh, plant,” he said. “But I suppose plants don’t talk, do they?”

“No,” said the voice, laughing. “I am a moth trapped within the plant. If you can get me out, I can tell you what is wrong with you.”

“I know what’s wrong with me.”

“Then I can kiss it better.”

“You promise you really would?” Bentinck leaned in towards the plant, and the supposed moth laughed again.

“As to how effective it is, I cannot say,” it said. “But whatever helps you sleep better at night.”

“Robots do not sleep,” Bentinck sighed, blinking wistfully at the sky. “At least, I do not.”

“You must be run by nuclear energy,” the moth said.

“I- yes. How did you guess?”

“Those robots have no need to charge.”

“Oh.” Bentinck looked up at the plant. “How do I get you out of there?”

“I would tell you to rip through it, but then you would say that that is against your First Law,” answered the moth. “I would then say that I am a biological being, too, and that leaving me here would also go against your First Law. You would say that I am a prey animal of the Defenders, and you see my species hunted everyday, and I would tell you that I am no longer a prey animal if I can speak to you and the plant cannot. You cannot allow me to die alone here, and besides, it’s only one plant, so, Hansi, rip through it with your hands.”

“I think I may want to hear you speak forever,” Bentinck declared.

“I would return the compliment if you sounded any better!” the moth giggled. “Now, would you save my life?”

“Recognized.” Bentinck slammed his fingers through the plant, seeing the beautiful moth just barely managing to keep his body over the digestive liquid, gripping onto the slippery walls of the plant. “You haven’t been here for long, have you?”

“Long enough, my legs are weary.” The moth lifted one of its legs, and Bentinck pulled it out through the hole in the plant. The fur upon the moth was soft, and, he realized when it fell against him, delightful to press his nose to.

“Oh, my, thank you.” The moth shook out its wings. “What a horrifying situation.”

“It’s very good that I found you.” Bentinck sat beside it, running his hands through the white fur. “You can take a break here, if you would like.”

“I would like that very much.” The moth placed its head on Bentinck’s lap. “Why are you shaking so much? Are you ill?”

“Impossible, Mijnheer Moth.” Bentinck shook his head.

“Ah, one would think,” the moth sighed.

They fell silent, and Bentinck looked back towards the plant that he had torn through. It really was a shame; it was so pretty.

“I can see you want to say something,” the moth said.

“I do, yes,” Bentinck said. “Did you know that what captured you is a cobra lily? Very rare around this side of the Netherlands, you see. Every Defender is taught to keep away from these plants, but my master once was caught within one; he thought it had a very nice smell to it.”

“Did he escape?”

“He had to be rescued by his tutor at the time. Mijnheer de Witt, perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

The moth shook its head. “No, never.”

“The Defenders said he tasted a little like spider meat.” Bentinck laughed. “Well, that’s nothing to think about now. What was I saying? Right, cobra lilies! Very beautiful plants, and such skillful hunters, too. I read that you cannot see the sky from in there.”

“I could not,” the moth murmured.

“Ah, wonderful!” Bentinck clapped his hands once. “Very, very good. My master said the same thing. Ah, such clever little things. If they were not so regulated, I would care for one myself.” He glanced fondly back at the plant.

“If they make you happy, why not?”

“They pose a threat to Defender children.” Bentinck sighed. “I would hate to see a little one in such agonies. My master only narrowly escaped.”

“You think about everything and everyone,” the moth said, drawing back and staring at Bentinck with its great, black eyes. “If only my kind had half the kindness that you robots exhibit.”

“Well, you are a very kind moth,” Bentinck said. “Your species is thought to be very annoying around these parts.”

The moth chuckled. “And isn’t that the truth.” It crawled closer to Bentinck, its haustellum hovering over the android’s lips. “Do you want your kiss now?”

“Are you leaving so soon?” Bentinck asked, disappointed. “I was going to ask if you wanted to come back with me.”

“I must return to my own master. I’m sorry.” It pressed its head against Bentinck’s nose, staring right into his glowing eyes.

“You will come back?”

“I don’t know.”

“I want you to stay.” His voice broke off at the end. He didn’t know why he wanted the moth to stay; William would never let him keep it, and yet he suddenly couldn’t imagine a life without it. “Nobody else understands.”

“I am a moth, I really understand very little,” the moth said apologetically. “Here is your kiss.” It extended its haustellum out towards Bentinck, and Bentinck placed a tiny kiss on the tip, as gentle as he could. It improved none of his systems, only made his fans whir faster. But he welcomed it.

“Thank you,” he said. The moth bowed its head and flew away, leaving nothing but the rush of a dam nearby to fill the silence.

Just when you think it all might get better. Bentinck lay back on the grass and stared up into the stars. Nothing could hurt him here.

“Mr. Bentinck,” called a gentle, familiar voice. “Mr. Bentinck, is that you?”

“Oh, yes!” Bentinck sat up, turning around to see the praying mantis from days before crawling tentatively towards him. She looked as mournful as ever. As she approached, Bentinck took her foreleg. “What is it, madam?”

“It is very good that you are here, I needed someone like you,” she said, glancing to the side. “What have you been up to? I waited yesterday night and you never came.”

“Well, things have come up,” Bentinck said with an awkward buzz. “You will have to forgive that.”

“And I do.”

“What troubles you?”

“My husband, sir, it is always him!” She raised her voice, then, turning to the side and pacing about the android. “I have done what you told me to do. So many trials, or errors, or whatever you called them; none of it matters because he is impossible to get through!”

“You have opened him, you have tried to repair him?”

“Yes!” She brought one of her forelegs up to her face and began to cry. “Heaven forgive me, I was never made for this—! Oh, what must I do now?”

“Please don’t do that,” Bentinck said. “Cry, I mean. If you take me to your husband, maybe I can tell you what needs improvement. I cannot do it myself, but I can at least point you in the right direction.”

“He would listen to a man,” she said miserably.

“No, no, not at all that, no,” he reassured her. “I am no husband, but I know what the proper way to treat a woman is.” He held his hand out, and she took it in her leg. “Take me to him.

“Well, if we must,” she said. She led him through the mess of plants everywhere, twitching her antennae as she walked. “I- I must warn you, he is very cold with strangers, from what I have observed.”

“You must not be a stranger anymore.”

“If only...”

She stopped at an exceedingly small pond, what would probably have been a puddle to one of the larger frogs inhabiting the planet. It was covered in black, but he couldn’t tell if it was the reflection of the dark sky or algae, or just his malfunctioning vision.

“Here,” she said, “is where he last spoke to me.” She pushed the cattails aside and motioned for Bentinck to come closer.

He saw a far smaller mantis, indeed, lying beside the pond with its legs splayed out beside its body. The forelegs were still raised in their usual prayer, but the body never moved, and when Bentinck leaned in he saw that it was headless, and a black sort of blood flowed endlessly from it into the water.

“Madam,” he said, “did you consummate the marriage?”

“We did, but it was a very disappointing performance,” she said. “I don’t wish to talk about it.”

“Do you think it might be because you ate his head?”

“What- what are you saying?” She drew back in horror, and Bentinck motioned towards the body.

“I don’t know death very well,” he said, “but this is what it looks like to me.” It felt then that something was splitting apart in his chest, like his core was being torn in two. He thought it was a familiar pain, and maybe he could fall to his knees and weep because of it.

He was nothing to me. Why should I care? He stepped back, covering his mouth with a trembling hand.

“I told you he would not listen!” said the mantis.

“Madam, we must go,” he said, turning to her and taking her foreleg. “There is nothing for you here.”

“But- but my husband—”

“Your husband does not deserve you,” Bentinck snapped. “No one can speak to him now.”

“You said I could make him better!” The mantis was crying again, pushing him away with one sharp swipe from her leg. “Is there no hope, then? Have I- have I failed, Hans?”

“No,” he said, stumbling back over the body. “You were only doing what you had to.”

She stared at him as she wiped at her tears, though they still came, falling over the body of her husband. “What now?” she whispered.

“You can start by leaving.”

“And then?”

“Kill more men?” Bentinck shrugged. “I was never a praying mantis.”

“I am no murderer,” said the mantis. She dipped her head towards him. “I thank you for everything, Bentinck.”

“Recognized,” he said, though he didn’t know what he had done.

He watched her leave, pushing her way through the plants, and he was tempted to follow her, knowing very well that he would never see her again. But perhaps it was for the best.

Instead he glanced down at the body and kicked it, letting it fall into the pond. Looking at it was only making him feel worse— he recognized it as grief, as if he had just lost his own husband.

Or...wife. He buzzed as if he were scolding himself and left the water as it was.

Apparently it should have been a shock that William was recovering well by the next week, because everyone couldn’t get enough of it. But Bentinck already had. He had to admit, however, that it was a great relief to see William crawl out of his bed and hurriedly lap at the water as if he had never feared it at all. He truly was biological.

“How are you today?” Bentinck asked, observing William bat around at a fairyfly that had gotten into his room.

“I want to hunt again,” the Prince said. He snapped his jaws in the air, catching the fly and shaking it furiously in his teeth. He spat it out again with a disappointed flick of his tail. “You think I want to catch these pathetic things for the rest of my life?”

“It isn’t for the rest of your life, Will, it’s just while you recover,” Bentinck said with a sigh. “In the state you are in, even a cicada could knock you over.”

“It’s no worse than it ever was,” William mumbled.

Bentinck paused, narrowing his eyes at his master. There was some truth in that, he supposed; William was as pale and thin as ever, but in fact his eyes were brighter than they had been in the past few weeks. They still fluttered shut when the light of Bentinck’s own eyes flashed over him.

“Maybe not,” the android said, “but I could never risk it. Maybe a walk when less predators are active would be nice. And I must be with you,” he added.

William rolled his eyes, turning away. “I was ill, not a prisoner.”

“You are ill.”

“I am going to bite you again.”

“Please don’t do that—” Bentinck lifted his arm as William sprung at him, clinging onto it while batting his claws against his friend’s metal belly. But he was purring, his tail flicking from side to side excitedly, once again in the manner that he had done it when he was younger with de Witt. The purrs weren’t so bad, Bentinck had to say.

“It’s not so long now,” he said. “You will recover, and then you can go back to terrorizing hapless insects and other horrible creatures.”

“Like the heart-eaters.”

“Yes, very good, Your Highness. You are very, very fierce.”

William drew back, licking his lips. “I know. So I can handle a little walk.”

“Not until the physicians say you can.” Bentinck lifted William in his arms and placed him back on the bed. “I can bring in a few larger flies if you would like.”

William groaned, falling onto his pillow. He blinked, staring out the window listlessly, before his tail twitched suddenly and he sat back up again. “Oh, would you?”

Bentinck nodded.

“Then go, I want a crane fly.”

“Which one?”

“The biggest one you can find, now!” William sprung forward, snapping his jaws, and Bentinck hurried off.

Biggest one I can find? Does he expect me to kill it before or after I bring it to him? He shook his head as he walked, causing his vision to be covered in static for a moment. He covered the speaker on his chest before anyone had to hear the embarrassing warning again and walked faster, calling for the wheels on his feet. Perhaps he was imagining it, but it seemed that every Defender who looked at him this time did so with fear.

Is something wrong with me?

He dismissed the idea and kept going. William always found crane flies near the streams; maybe he would have the same luck. Just as long as he didn’t fall for the claims of a spider again.

He heard a curious buzzing up ahead, one much louder than anything he had ever heard from any insect in the Netherlands. He was tempted to turn back, but he decided that as long as he didn’t provoke whatever it was, he would be fine.

He looked up, trying to find what could possibly be making that noise, only for the wheel on his left foot to spring back inside him. Before he realized what had happened, he stumbled, and he fell hard on the grass, his arm failing to catch him. He landed on his face, his vision shaking as if something had knocked him on the head.

What on the Netherlands is this? He put away the other wheel and tried to push himself back up on his shaking arm. He couldn’t find the strength this time, however, and let himself fall again, staring out at what he found in front of him.

At least I got to the stream. Much to his disappointment, though, there were no crane flies around.

But he did find the source of the buzzing. Looking up, he saw a huge bee perched on a water lily, staring right at him with its head cocked to the side. From the size alone, he recognized her instantly as a queen, but a very peculiar one. The fur on her abdomen had a strange, cross-like marking running across the back instead of the usual stripes.

“Your Majesty,” he blurted, trying to sit up to kneel before her.

“Hans William Bentinck,” she said. “Do not move.” In her voice ran the unmistakable confidence of a monarch, and he obeyed, bowing his head.

“F-Forgive me.”

“Ah, there is nothing to forgive.” She flew over to him, landing at his side. “I have heard much about you.”

“An honor to be known by a being such as yourself.” Bentinck tried to back away, but the queen flung a leg over him.

“Is something wrong, what troubles you?” she asked.

“My whole body, I suppose.” He shuddered at the feeling of the leg and closed his eyes. “I must be looking for a crane fly for the Prince of Orange.”

“The Prince, you say?” He felt her lean in, the fur brushing the side of his face. “How is the boy?”

“Error: you do not have access to that information.”

“What are you—”

“Error: you do not have access to that information.”

He cried out when she slammed her leg against the side of his head, forcing him on his back. “Look up here,” she growled, “look at me. What is it that you are so afraid of, Bentinck?”

“I said that you do not have access to that information.” He glared up at her, though looked only at her wings; the black eyes were terrifying things. “I only serve a Protestant monarch.”

“So you do know about me.” She laughed. “You think you are so faithful, don’t you? You think your loyalty can never waver because you are an android. But let me tell you something, Bentinck; it only makes it easier for you to betray your precious master. I mean, look at how easily you fall apart!” She leaped onto him then, ripping through his waistcoat with a swipe of her leg. He buzzed in fury, shaking his head but unable to do much more than that. He couldn’t hurt her.

“Please don’t do that.” He lifted his head, and she forced it back down with a fierce shove from her mandibles. He let out another buzz, this time one of fear.

“You think he cares for you?”

“Please don’t do that.”

“You think he would be surprised if you turned your back on him? If you began to work for me instead?” She shook her head. “No one would be. You know no such thing as loyalty. God did not create you.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“You believe in Him,” she continued, “but He does not believe in you.”

“Please don’t do that—!” He kicked his legs out, and she drove her stinger into the opening that connected his thigh to his torso, tearing through his breeches. He tossed his head back and screamed as he felt the stinger sever the wires there, the venom squirting through finally taking any movement left on that limb.

“A shame about your strength,” she said. “It really could have saved your Prince from my vengeance.”

“Please don’t do that,” he pleaded. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“Nothing can stop me from what I have planned for that little monster,” she spat. “Not you, not him, and not all the armies in the galaxy.” She lifted her stinger and shoved it in the same place in the other thigh, achieving the same result there.

Bentinck bit back another buzz. “You- you can always go be Catholic somewhere else—”

“This is my kingdom!” She buried her mandibles into his hair and slammed his head back against the ground, again and again until the vision was gone from his eye where color had disappeared.

“Please don’t do that— caution: vision impaired— please don’t do that-” His voice was quickly becoming unrecognizable.

“Then fight,” she said, leaning in until the only thing he could see was her empty eyes, “if you think you can give me orders.”

“I- I don’t know what I did to you—”

“You ask as if working for the Prince isn’t the crime!” She drove her stinger into the speaker on his chest until she broke through. He felt the venom seep through him, burning up everything it touched, and he let himself fall limp, unable to speak coherently anymore. He knew he was still speaking, please don’t do that, but it sounded like nothing to him.

“Pathetic beast, always breaking, always whining,” she said. She pulled the stinger free, flying high above him, and the venom from her stinger fell to his face. It was disgusting. “I would kill you now, but I want to see William’s face when he sees me do it.”

Do not speak his name! Bentinck opened his mouth to tell her so, but before he could manage a sound she took his head in her legs and pushed it back into the water.

It was so quiet. So peaceful. He knew he should have been fighting it, but what was his Third Law compared to this? He was prepared to go, if he could hear nothing forever—

There was a screech from the surface, and then the weight was lifted off of him. The instinct to live returned to him. Using all the strength within him, he pulled himself out with a gasp, water leaking from his eyes and lips. He turned his head to the side to see where the queen had gone.

She had not gone willingly. There was the Prince, beautiful William, swiping at her face, hissing as he drove her back. He was many times smaller than she was, but she couldn’t manage to push him off.

“No one will touch my android!” he snarled.

“No!” Bentinck tried to call out, reaching out towards William. He wasn’t supposed to be out here! He had certainly never fought a queen before.

“You have brought him straight to me!” At last the queen bee threw him off, and Willaim landed with a huff on the ground. She lifted her head triumphantly, glancing at Bentinck. “Good boy.”

No, that was never—! He dragged himself forward with his arm, but was too unsteady to keep the motion. He let his head fall. Was this how William would die, with Bentinck watching on helplessly?

I was supposed to protect him. He wanted to cry, then realized that he was, the water from the stream still dripping slowly from his eyes.

William bared his teeth as he stood back up, the spikes on his tail shaking in warning. And Bentinck saw then that he would not die here. If he had survived illness in the past month, if he had defeated mantises, spiders, frogs, and liars, liars, liars, then a bee would never be anything at all.

“I am going to rip those beady little eyes out of your skull until there is nothing left to see heaven’s light,” the queen hissed.

William’s eyes flicked to black, and he sprung once more at her, clinging onto her abdomen with his claws as she flew up. She kicked at him with her legs, thrusting her stinger forward, but he held on from behind. She could land nothing on him. He crawled over her body, bringing her lower to the ground, and out of the plants bounded out more Defenders, old and young, hissing along with him at the queen.

It was undoubtedly his hivemind. Their black eyes matched his as they pounced on the queen, and they moved as if they had tails, carelessly unbalanced on top of her. William himself slipped off the side and bounced back, wheezing and circling the scene.

He needs me! Bentinck tried to call out to William, but it was much too low to be heard, and William never looked over at him. He seemed incredibly focused as he shifted his claws on the ground, as his Defenders shot silk from their wrists and tangled it around the queen’s legs. He tensed, then jumped back onto her, burying his claws into her wings. With the way her abdomen was moving, trapped within the silk, Bentinck guessed she was trying to sting him again.

William bit into her head and rolled sharply to the side, taking her with him. The rest of the Defenders stepped back, their eyes returning to normal, though wide with terror. These were not soldiers— they were merely the Defenders closest to the area, and thus could be anything. There were even a few children in the mix, hiding behind their mothers with nervous growls.

William shook the queen in his jaws, then threw her down below him, his jaws dripping with the hemolymph he had taken from her. It looked as if he was drooling again, but he licked the liquid away almost too gleefully.

“Kill me, then, but I will always return,” she spat at him. “And when I do, you will have more to lose.”

“Heaven take you, Your Majesty.” William bit into her antennae and tore her head from her body. Her legs still twitched under the silk as he jumped off of her, shaking himself and trying to catch his breath.

“A queen without a hive,” he huffed. “Now I have seen everything.” The Defenders backed away from him as he bounded towards his android. “Hans! How are you?”

“You- you need me—” Bentinck propped himself up on one arm as William curled his tail around him. He could only manage a broken whisper; anything louder than that would spook William with all its clicks and glitches.

“Shh, don’t speak,” William said. “I- I am very well—” He broke off when he started coughing, and Bentinck shook his head.

“You were not supposed to do this.”

“Then who else would, if I had not disobeyed you?” William smiled, leaning in to purr against Bentinck’s cheek. “My antennae couldn’t have sensed danger if I had been inside.”

“Enough, just kiss me.”

“I don’t need it—” He attempted to laugh, interrupted by another hacking cough, and Bentinck brought his head closer and kissed him. He prayed that the inhaler function in his throat still worked.

Out of all my systems, please, please, please.

William blinked, then backed away, his eyes wide. “No, Hans, I-” He took a deep, rasping breath, his tail twitching uncomfortably as he glanced at everyone around him.

Did it not work? Bentinck reached out, took William’s hand.

“I- I am sorry.”

“Hans, it isn’t—”

“She said she would come back.” Bentinck’s voice rose. It was like speaking through shattered glass.

William stared at him, still stepping away. “What are you talking about? Who?”

“The queen!”

William shook his head. “You are not well,” he breathed. Then, turning to his subjects, he said, “Help me- help me take him back—! Now!”

Did I say something wrong? It could have been anything, Bentinck thought.

“You are safe now, Hans, don’t speak anymore,” he heard William whisper on his blind side. His warm breath on Bentinck’s face was labored, but reassuring nonetheless. “Just- just close your eyes.”

He knew what that meant, but closed them anyway. He felt William reach his claws into his throat and shut him off. From there he could have been out for a few minutes or centuries upon centuries; he could never tell.

#alien alien au #lots and lots of tasty android whump for the soul!!#william is so creature here lel

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edogawa-division · 8 months

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ARB Birthday Special 2023: Kaoru Shinozaki

~~ September 15th ~~

“There is no great genius without a mixture of madness.”

“Zzzzzzz…. Gah! I'm up! I'm awake! Oh shit, you scared me! Don't do that! I can feel my heart pounding! Huh? Is this a present?”

“Why are you even giving this to me? It’s not like my birthday is anytime soon. Wait, what do you mean today is my birthday? Athena dammit! I forgot again!”

Voice Lines:

“I can't believe I forgot about my birthday for the second year in a row. I mean, I did spend the last few days working on an invention. Oh well, I might as well see what chaos I can get up to today.”

“Alright! “Operation: Birthday Bash” is a go! Mwahahaha! Major intelligence agencies all across the world are currently waking up to a malware virus that I just sent to their servers!*giggles* It's nothing too bad. All it's going to do is forcibly take control of their speaker systems and play “Never Gonna Give You Up” on repeat all day. Take that you fuckers!”

“Hi Mama, Papa, Nii-san. It's me. I’m doing alright, just turned 23, but I'm sure you all knew that.*sighs* Lately, I've been thinking about what my life would be like if the accident never happened. I think…I would've been miserable, and isn't that a horrible thought? I never said this, but for all that you loved me, none of you ever bothered to understand me. How could you? I was too different. What? You don't think I heard you talking at night? That you thought I walked the line between genius and insanity. That you thought I would grow up to be a villain? That some days you were even afraid of me? Ha! A part of me resents you for that even now.”

“You know A.D.A is usually the first one to wish me happy birthday, but I haven't heard from her all day, which is pretty strange. I think she’s planning something because she asked me a while back if I had any plans for my birthday all while looking like the cat who ate the canary. Ehhhh…I should probably prepare for the worst. A.D.A can get pretty vindictive when the mood hits her.”

“Yurikoooo! What did you get me? Noooo! Betrayed by my own mother! Next thing you know I’ll be left out on the cold streets to fend for myself. Oh, the horror! *wheezes* Okay, okay, I’m done! Oh, come on, Yuriko! It's my birthday. Let me live a little! Anyway, did you not really get me anything? Hahaha! I knew you’d never let me down! So, whatcha get me?”

“A string of numbers? Wait, are these what I think they are? Fuck…Yuriko that place is literally one of the best guarded networks in the world. I could spend years attempting to hack it as Delphi, and even then, I would only be able to make a dent in their firewall. Literally, the only ones allowed to have access to that place are the top and, I mean, top dogs of the underworld. So why? Why give this to me? Why give me access to… somewhere where I make the worst of my genius blossom to life with no consequences? A storm, huh? You can count on me, Yuriko. I promise.”

“No wait Kanra! *crunch* K-K-Kanra it seems like your birthday hugs get stronger every year huh? My ribs certainly can tell. Oh, what are we waiting for then? You know I love your cakes Kanra! Hahaha! Okay, then what did you get me?”

“Pfffffftt! Kanra that thing is nearly as tall as you are! Hahaha! No, but seriously Kanra thank you. I've always wanted one of these. How did you even get one anyway? This thing is kinda of expensive. *wheeze* Kanra please! You can't treat a fight like it's a Pokémon battle. Hahaha! Never change Kanra.”

“A.D.A! There you are! You're even in your android body, too! So I can only assume you have something special planned for me today. A.D.A…your grin is kind of scaring me. The last time you grinned like that, you didn't let me have coffee for 2 weeks. Oh gods, you are banning me from coffee again! A.D.A, please! I need coffee to survive! A.D.A…you’re still not filling me with confidence, but alright, what did you get me?”

“Uhhh…A.D.A? This is just a piece of paper with a time and a set of directions on it. Of course a…A.D.A WHAT DO YOU MEAN DATE??? Y-y-you…dinner…him…error…error…asdkhgkjiwenfkdklyyxgsitzfzjfzkfoxyoaryhdftwehadghffnjkelfhewnejwnjb…*faints*”

Yuriko Lines:

“Happy Birthday, Kaoru. *raises eyebrow* Does it look like I'm carrying a gift for you? *sighs* Are you done with your little charade Kaoru? Birthday or not, please do not wail like you’re the ghost of a Victorian child. Really? Do you truly believe I would get you anything? What kind of mother would I be if I didn't get my own daughter anything? Now I'm sure you’ll find this quite interesting.”

“Not just any set of numbers, Kaoru. I had to pull quite a few strings for these numbers. As you know, there's the black market which even a regular citizen can get access to if they look hard enough and then there's █ █ █ █ █ █ █. A global network of various dealers and brokers, hidden behind a series of codes and unknown numbers. Where only the truly dangerous lie, both people and items. It’s so well hidden that not even the various governments are aware of its existence, or if they do, all they know is rumors. Kaoru, I won't lie. A storm is brewing and heading our way. I’m not sure when or how, but I’ll be damned if I don't do everything in my power to make sure the three of us survive. If that means giving you access to someplace where you can be the worst version of yourself, then so be it. I know Kaoru, I know.”

Kanra Lines:

“Happy Birthday Kaoru! *hugs* Eh? Sorry! Guess I got a little too excited. Ah! Nevermind that! Come on Kaoru! I have your birthday cake in the kitchen! First I have to give you your present! I hope you like it!”

“Ta-da! Your very own giant Mareep doll! It is not! I can see over it! Hm? Oh right. So every time I beat someone unconscious I rummage through their wallets and steal all the cash they have on them. Why not? Winner’s rights! If people wanna pick a fight with me they better be prepared to fork over some cash when they lose!”

Bonus! A.D.A Lines:

“Kaoru my dear! Happy Birthday! Oh, I have just a little something special for you today. *grins widely* Hm? Hahaha! Don’t be so scared, Kaoru, it's nothing like that. I will admit that it was a bit hard to work on the plan without you noticing, but I succeeded. Now, here I have something for you!”

“Why is it the time and location for your dinner reservation for your date with that pretty goth boy! Of course! He seemed surprised when I asked him. He was under the impression that you would be spending your birthday with Yuriko and Kanra, but I waved off his concern and told him you would love it if he took you out for dinner! Oh dear, her mind is erroring. Are you alright, Kaoru? Kaoru? AHH! SHE FAINTED!”

#hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #edogawa division #wicked requiem #shinozaki kaoru #kuromiya yuriko #akemi kanra #a.d.a #alternative rap battle #arb #happy birthday kaoru 2023

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ao3feed-tf2ships · 21 days

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No Sick Days (And other reasons why the mercs should unionize)

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54927100

by ShinFay

There was no such thing as sick days for the mercs. They had Sunday off to pray in the tiny chapel on base, which only Engineer attended, but for the most part the mercs worked six to eight hour days, six days a week. When you got a cold you went into battle sniffling and coughing- if you got killed due to somebody hearing you wheeze then you got killed. If you were desperate you could sleep underneath the mounted minigun in the lab to help get the virus out of your system, but nobody was desperate enough to fall asleep around Mr.Is anybody going to take these hearts (plural) and not wait for an answer.

So, no one really batted an eye when Medic showed up to battle with a runny nose.

Words: 3244, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Fandoms: Team Fortress 2

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Gen

Characters: RED Demoman (Team Fortress 2), RED Engineer (Team Fortress 2), RED Heavy (Team Fortress 2), RED Medic (Team Fortress 2), RED Pyro (Team Fortress 2), RED Scout (Team Fortress 2), RED Sniper (Team Fortress 2), RED Soldier (Team Fortress 2), RED Spy (Team Fortress 2), Demoman (Team Fortress 2), Engineer (Team Fortress 2), Heavy (Team Fortress 2), Medic (Team Fortress 2), Pyro (Team Fortress 2), Scout (Team Fortress 2), Sniper (Team Fortress 2), Soldier (Team Fortress 2), Spy (Team Fortress 2)

Relationships: Demoman & Engineer & Heavy & Medic & Pyro & Scout & Sniper & Soldier & Spy (Team Fortress 2), Heavy & Medic (Team Fortress 2), Engineer & Heavy & Medic (Team Fortress 2), Medic & Pyro (Team Fortress 2)

Additional Tags: Sick Character, Minor Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2), Medic Being Medic (Team Fortress 2), wump, Insomniac Medic, Pyro and Medic are friends, BLU | Builder's League United (Team Fortress 2), Respawn Mechanics (Team Fortress 2), Nonbinary Pyro (Team Fortress 2), everyone has different pronouns for pyro, Heavy centric, medic centric, runny nose, Coughing, Sickfic, Battle Scenes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, RED | Reliable Excavation Demolition (Team Fortress 2), it's kept vague on the relationship between the RED and BLU mercs though that may change, feauturing google translated german glanced over by my german roommate, Please Forgive me, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54927100

#TF2 Heavy #TF2 Medic #Heavy&Medic #Gen Fic

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clickonmedotexe · 1 year

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Rex is shoved against the wall by a blur of shadows, hands wrapping around his wrists and throat before he even realizes what's going on. In a second he's pinned down and the pressure on his windpipe is getting harsher while he thrashes against the hold.

"How dare you touch her. I'm going to kill you."

He knows the voice, having possessed the speaker's body once back when he himself was part of the very virus which had tormented him the last few weeks.

Mason Paines, the friend of Thursday - of course he would've heard about their earlier run in. Except Rex thought Thursday had him better under control. Maybe she sent him to find Rex after deciding the demonic ghostly beast gutting him wasn't enough.

"Wasn't- me-" Rex chokes out. He kicks at Maso but the other isn't fazed in the slightest. He's stronger than Rex, both physically and because the burning rage lends him some extra strength, enough that Maso's certain he can pop his head off if he just pushes harder.

"I know you threatened her before, you slimy revolting pervert. I'm going to mangle you and feed you the parts I chopped off until you choke on them, Rex, I'll make what Alice did to you look like a walk in the fucking park." Maso is squeezing his throat harder, ignoring Rex's frantic attempts to escape.

He can't wrench his hands free and his kicks do nothing. He tries to knee Maso in the stomach, manages to do it once (Maso doesn't blink), and the second time is blocked by Maso's shadow which has wrapped around his body protectively, shielding him from further attacks.

"I was- possessed-" The older man is turning purple, black spots crowding over his vision as his head pounds painfully, demanding to be given oxygen. He's either going to faint or die and neither of those sound particularly fun right now - especially after all the restarts he just went through while Vir took his body for a joyride.

"I don't care." Maso leans in, glaring at Rex with a bottomless hatred - he won't be satisfied until he's certain Rex has suffered as much as he's done to Thursday. Even if it wasn't him. Maso can't bring himself to care. Right now Rex is the face of everything bad that had ever happened to his friend. All the injuries, the rejections, the pain, the abandonment and the tortures she's faced, Maso turned away from the instigators as best he could to focus on damage control instead but the more times she got attacked the more resentment built up inside of him until finally it had to snap.

Rex was the last straw.

Even if he wasn't the one to leave her for dead or maim her with a chainsaw or even cut her tongue out, he was far from innocent and Maso doubts it really matters if he's hurting Rex for allegedly being forced to torture Thursday to death, or if he's hurting him for all the times he did actually torture Thursday's friends, possessed innocents and ruined friendships with his manipulation.

"You deserve to die, you motherfucker. You deserve to have everything taken away from you - especially that family you brainwashed into loving you. Fuck you. I'm going to flay you alive, I'm going to tear you into a million little pieces and set them on fire you fucking asshole, I hate you so much! Who do you think you are, ruining everyone's lives? I'm going to tear your dick off and make you eat it, you perv-"

Mason Paines.

Maso has gotten angrier with every word, bitter tears of frustration and rage welling up in his eyes as he slams Rex into the wall repeatedly with each threat. Rex is too weak to fight back and with how he's rapidly losing consciousness, he thinks he might've imagined the voice if it weren't for how Maso paused too.

Put him down. Let me take a look.

Maso grits his teeth, but obeys. He yanks Rex forward and kicks him to the ground. Rex falls and starts hacking for air immediately, wheezing out of his now bruised windpipe.

"He's disgusting, Icarus. No one does anything about him because they're either too scared or too enamored by him. He needs to- to die!"

Hush. The voice commands and reluctantly Maso falls silent, deciding to stand there and glare at Rex instead. There's someone else standing in the room with them, their presence as thick as fog even though Rex can't see the speaker. He can hear their voice in his head and out loud, and he knows that whoever this is is far from the demons and entities he's met before. They aren't even like the god who had possessed him earlier and changed him to his whim.

This presence is older, powerful. It feels as if for the first time he's in the same room with Capital G God.

Except Maso is talking casually to 'God' and there's no singing choir of celestials accompanying them.

If Rex squints hard enough, he might be able to make out a ever shifting figure shining in blue standing above him, but looking at it felt wrong, like he's glimpsing into another plane of reality.

Rex Sovereign. The voice says. Another broken soul spreading pain and Despair where it goes. I am surprised Calypso has not taken interest in you.

Maso scoffs. Rex has no idea what they're talking about.

"I t-told you." He rubs at his throat, which hurts terribly. "I didn't touch Thursday. It wasn't my idea, for fucks sakes. Just listen to me."

You have hurt many people. You're a parasite. Where you go, you attempt to lay ownership in people's lives, for better or for worse. Yet your courage is all a lie. In reality, you are so very afraid.

Rex suddenly realizes how exposed he is. He can't hide from this being who is looking directly at him. Not his mask. At him.

In an instant it can see everything. Every insecurity he ever had, every moment of weakness, every scar on his soul and what story came along with it.

He instinctively tries to hide but there's no place he can go to shield himself from the humiliation of being on display.

You fear you are as unlovable as you were made to believe when you were young, so you attempt to gain people's affections through manipulation and lies, you crave intimacy so you look for it in the wrong places because you cannot bear losing control. You believe yourself to be strong but you cannot bend so you are brittle. The slightest pressure would snap you in half. If others found out the truth about you, you would hide in shame as you have done from the ones you claim to be your family.

Rex says nothing, hands curled into fists. He wants to deny it but no words come out in his defense.

You have changed. There is hope inside of you, which is your saving grace. You are lucky I did not stumble upon you sooner or you would no longer be as you are. I will be back for you, Rex Sovereign. Go to your family. Do not lay a hand on a single person in the meantime or I will take you away from your loved ones in an instant. You won't have the chance to say goodbye.

The being turns to address Maso.

I will take a look at your friend. Do not hesitate to call me again if you require assistance.

Maso nods and watches as Icarus fades away, gone from their current perception but around in case of anything. He glances down at Rex who looks like someone put him through the wringer several times.

"I guess my threats are useless now in light of Icarus'." Maso says dryly. He's still mad, even if he's better at controlling it now. "Don't go near Thursday again. Don't even look at her."

Rex purses his lips, exhausted and annoyed. He gets up, making sure to stay far enough away from Maso in case the other tries to jump him again and shoots him a bitter look.

"Tell her it wasn't me, it was Vir. And I tried to warn her. If she'd have run like I told her to, maybe she could've found help before it attacked her."

Maso scowls darkly.

Rex doesn't say anything else. He just turns and heads back to his Office, like Icarus suggested he do.

Maso watches him go for a moment, scoffs and heads off as well. He figures he should let Thursday know about what happened and make her aware of Icarus' intentions to visit.

#drabble #＜/error＞#neverendingparable #celestial cataclysm

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shell-o-knee · 5 months

Text

Tonight I am Someone Else

It started out as a mild fever. Paracetamols and my mother’s constant fussing took care of it momentarily but as dreaded (by mother dearest, I was preoccupied) it made a dramatic comeback- like an overpowered hero in a painfully mediocre film. Makes one think all that clamouring of thaalis doesn’t rip the virus apart. Next door, Mr Bagga couldn’t stop puzzling over the same. “You must have not done the chants right.”, he concluded from behind the safety of his pathetic makeshift mask. Quarantine was in order, of course. That wasn’t much of a problem, I don’t think it was humanly possible to isolate any further than I already had.

When the news spread, courtesy of the platoon of aunties and neighbourly spirit, it became a commonly held view that the Singhal’s unstable daughter - the one who dyes her hair like a junglee, yes- the one wasting time by studying English, hanji hanji- the one who tried to meet her maker, tauba tauba tauba- was doomed. That is precisely when I started receiving calls for the first time in two long years. A small, awful part of me basked in the attention.

Contrary to what one would expect, not much changed after the tests came out positive. Stalwarts of the Holy Cow union mass-consumed cow piss, the neighbours murmured, mother cried softly at night, I swallowed medicines and passed out for inordinate stretches of time. The usual. It was all anticlimatic till the day my lungs decided to shake things up a bit.

It is when I lay gasping for breath that I started regretting my decision of refusing to become a chain smoker- if I had known I was going to end up wheezing like an old geezer in a cross-country one day, I might have as well sinned a little. Short-sighted woman.

My involuntary beatboxing stirred the whole household up. ‘whole’ consists of mother and a morally-obliged-to-check sister. It was extremely embarrassing to be wheeled into an ambulance for the second time in the short span of a year.

We don’t talk about the first time.

Ever.

From what I could gather, there are two types of ambulances- the first type is always gleaming, blindingly well lit, posh interiors and beeping machinery; the second is akin to something Yamraj would drive- a suspiciously dented Omni with a brazen driver at the wheel, the trademark rusty oxygen cylinder of which was now thrust upon my self with excessive force.

The streetlamps’ warm orange light refracted through the ambulance’s compact window, onto my arms. Orange, then briefly black. Orange, black. Orange, black. Day and night. Orange, black.

The next few days passed in a blur. I made a friend at the hospital on the third day. By the middle of the fourth, she was wheeled out on a gurney and the one at the end of the number on the blackboard was immediately replaced with a two. I cried miserably, more so on realising I did not want to die after all, than on her death. On the sixth day, I sounded a mental verdict that death in the midst of a pandemic would firstly do me no good and secondly, would simply not be poetic enough. There was also the bigger issue of mother being alone. I worry about her.

It finally rained that day. The joy rains bring to Indians, in my opinion, is unparallel- except for that one time Neeraj Chopra grabbed a gold. To others, rainfall brings dread- too dark, too wet, too cold, thoroughly depressing. To us, it is unadulterated joy- dark but welcomed, cold but comforting, wet yet not enough till we are drenched to our bare bones. Rain is one of the leading factors that unite us, second to only cricket.

On the eighth day, the squadron of aunties in the colony video called. Something about the multiple sets of empathetic brown eyes and furrowed brows made me tear up. Annoying as they are, I felt...substantial.

Mr. Bagga visited. Dad called.

Mother never stopped sobbing.

On the fifteenth night, she sobbed even harder when I couldn’t breathe at all. When it dawns upon one that that certain impending doom that was once sitting at a comfortable distance has sneaked up on you, a sense of panic grips you. I lay there, terrified, choking, fighting. Alone.

Alone till I saw my mother and the helpless father with a limp daughter in his arms outside the isolation ward.

The father was begging for a bed. There were none. I counted.

He was shaking the young savable limp daughter in the physicians face, still begging. There were none. I counted.

My worn-out mother followed my gaze, then looked back at me. Last stage of grief, briefly.

I am many things- a burnt-out student, an ex-overachiever, that antisocial neighbour, the girl who tried to meet her maker, always my mother’s daughter, sometimes a friend, and seldom myself, but not tonight.

Someone readied the chalk.

Tonight I am someone else. Tonight I am Dead and Gone, yes, but more importantly, tonight I am Hope.

PS- this is only and only for the sake of documenting my words. They might not mean anything to anyone but they mean something to me sometimes. Hehe!

#literature #short fiction #short story #covid #writing prompt

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casuallyimagining · 2 years

Text

Rest

Min Yoongi x reader

Summary: Yoongi is sick. Luckily, you're there to take care of him and make sure he rests. Word Count: 1,382 Notes: I've been wanting to write a fic like this ever since they announced Yoongi had Covid. And then when he said that he'd lied and he actually did have symptoms, I had to write this. My first instinct with Yoongi is always the desire to wrap him in a blanket and smooch his little cheeks, and I think this fic is just the epitome of that.

This fic is a part of @bangtanwritingbingo’s spring bingo event and fills the square slice of life.

Part of the Long Term Couples series. Read more here.

Trying to be as quiet as you could, you opened the door to your bedroom. It was dark inside, the only light in the room coming from the small nightlight you had plugged in before you left. The curtains were drawn completely closed. You winced as you listened, the soft wheezing worrying you slightly despite the doctor saying it was normal and nothing to be concerned about.

Carefully, you crept through the room, approaching the sleeping figure in the bed. You’d been gone for about an hour, picking up medicine and groceries, and while you hoped he’d slept the whole time, you knew it wasn’t likely. You sat the cup of water and bottle of pills in your hand down on his nightstand. He’d thrown the covers away from his body in his sleep, so you gathered them up, pulling only the sheet over his body and letting the rest fall to your side of the bed so they were handy if he wanted them.

You placed a tentative hand on his forehead and sighed. He still felt warmer than he should, and if the amount of sweat that kept his hair clinging to his face was any indication, his fever hadn’t broken yet. You frowned, brushing his hair back silently before placing a gentle kiss on his temple and turning away. Maybe you could make him some soup. His mother had emailed you the recipe for samgyetang and said it might help.

It certainly couldn’t hurt.

Just as you were about to close the door again, you heard the blankets shuffle and a soft “what time is it?” croak out.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you said, approaching him. “It’s a little after two.”

Yoongi hummed, a small wheeze accompanying the sound. “S’okay.” He reached out, wrapping an arm around the back of your thighs, just above your knee, keeping you close to the bed. “You weren’t gone that long.”

“I’m what you call an efficient shopper.” He laughed weakly, leaning into your touch as you cupped his jaw. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a car.”

“My poor honey boy,” you cooed, running your thumb across his sleep-swollen cheek.

He shook his head, attempting to take a deep breath and wheezing out a sigh. “I love that you’re here. But you should go stay with Jungkook. You’re going to get sick.”

“Hate to tell you this, honey boy, but if I’m going to get sick, I probably already have.”

It was true. Yoongi had only started to show symptoms the afternoon before, and neither of you were particularly sure where he had contracted the virus. You’d both been so careful in your travels, and no one else you knew was sick. You had considered staying with Jungkook and his girlfriend while Yoongi was contagious, but what was the point? You lived with him. You had been exposed far before his symptoms had presented. And you knew him. You knew he wouldn’t take care of himself.

“Why don’t you try to nap a little more?” you suggested softly. “I want to make that soup eomma-nim sent me the recipe for.”

Yoongi groaned, using his grip on your legs to attempt to pull himself up into a sitting position. “I’m not tired,” he whined. “I just don’t have any energy.”

“Love, I think that’s the literal definition of being tired.” You turned in his hold, allowing him to rest his head against your stomach. “You should rest while you have the chance. You’ll feel better faster.”

“I can rest in the kitchen while you cook,” he protested.

Despite the fact that he sounded more nasally than usual and that his voice was much more gravelly, his tone was firm. You could tell you wouldn’t be able to argue him back into taking a nap. So you gave in.

“At least sit with the humidifier,” you told him, scratching at the base of his scalp with your fingertips. His hair was disgustingly sweaty, but he melted into you, so you continued to do it.

You weren’t used to Yoongi being this lethargic. He followed you dutifully into the kitchen, a hand gripping the back of your shirt to keep his balance. You’d had to pause in the hallway so he could catch his breath, leaning heavily against the wall as you stood beside him, rubbing his back. He sat quietly as you cooked, his head resting on his arm, a towel partially thrown over his face to direct the moist air from the humidifier towards his mouth and nose. Every once in a while, he would comment on something, but mostly, you were left to converse with yourself. He’d told you once that he liked hearing you talk, so you prattled on, telling him about the many times you were sick as a child.

A few hours later, you were helping Yoongi back into bed. He hadn’t eaten as much as you would have liked–the chickens you’d bought for the samgyetang were small, but even still, he’d barely eaten half–but you could tell the fatigue was starting to catch up with him.

He sighed as he settled in, the action causing him to cough dryly. He sat up, reaching for the glass of water you had sat at his bedside earlier, taking a small sip to calm the inflammation in his throat.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said softly once he was comfortable. “Again.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” You smiled, pushing his hair back off his forehead. “Try to get some rest, okay?”

“You’re going?”

“I don’t want to disturb you.”

He scoffed. Or, at least, he made the closest noise he could to a scoff. You rolled your eyes. You really shouldn’t have been surprised that this was how the conversation was going. He was like this with his shoulder, too. For all his cool and uncaring outward posturing, it really was all just a front. Especially when he was sick, Yoongi craved attention and affection. And he knew that you were happy to provide.

So you pulled the curtains closed again–though, to be fair, it was nearly sunset and it would be dark in the room naturally soon enough–and climbed into bed, sliding under the covers behind him. With much effort and wheezing, he rolled over, his arms snaking around your waist, legs tangling with yours. His head settled onto your chest, and immediately, you felt him relax. His breath was light as it fanned across your skin.

You wrapped your arms around him, one hand resting against his shoulder, the other finding purchase in his hair. It had dried some now that he wasn’t sweating as much, and though he was still warm, he didn’t seem to be nearly as feverish as he had been before. Gently, you massaged his scalp with your fingertips, attempting to lull him to sleep.

A few minutes passed in near silence, the quiet wheeze that accompanied every exhale the only sound in the room. Soon, you realized that you were successful–a small, congested snore joining the wheezes for a pitiful, if not a little comical, symphony. You placed a kiss to the crown of his head and he hummed in his sleep, his arms tightening around you.

You hated when he was sick, but if it meant that he was this cuddly and affectionate… you would happily continue to care for him.

#btsbingo2022 #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #suga #suga x reader #bts yoongi #bts yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts suga #bts suga x reader #bts

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mads-weasley · 3 years

Text

Safe Pt. 5: The Plan

Newt x Reader

Part One Part Two Part Three

Part Four Part Five Part Six

A/N: Hey y’all! Thanks for reading this series! I’ve enjoyed writing it! This one is super long, but it’s worth it! There will be one part after this one! Sadly, I do not own any of these amazing characters other than (y/n). I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: After making it through the scorch and to the Right Arm, you are attempting to save one of your best friends and the love of your life in one final mission to destroy WCKD.

Warnings: cranks, mentions of blood, major angst, mentions of death, explosions, gunfire, warfare, mentions of torture, some fluff.

(y/n) - your name

(y/n/n) - your nickname

(y/h/c) - your hair color

Italics - flashbacks

The time for the plan had come. Thomas had managed to kidnap Teresa for the plan. After being interrogated by Gally, she took the WCKD tags out of you and the gladers’ necks. As she was taking yours out, you decided to ask her a question you’ve been dying to know. “Can I save him? Newt?”

A few seconds following your question, she responds, “Yes, but he’ll always need more.”

“Is there any way to cure him completely?”

“Not as of now. I’m sorry, (y/n). I really a-“

“Slim it. I don’t need your pity.” Wincing as she jerks the tag out rather roughly, you get up and walk over to Newt.

He looks worse by the second, and it scares you how fast the virus is taking hold of the boy you love. He’s sitting in a chair with his head up against the wall behind him, eyes closed. “Hey, darling, how are you feeling?” you coo, squatting to his eye level. Sitting up, a small smile etches his face. “Better now that you’re here, love. Sit with me?” You move and sit on his lap, putting your arms around his neck. He stares into your eyes and works them down to your lips. You’re so close that you can feel his hot breath on your face.

“You’re so beautiful, (y/n).” You smile in response before he speaks again. “I’m going to miss seeing that smile; the one that lights up the whole bloody room. And the way you hold onto me when you’re scared, and every shucking thing about you. I’m so desperately in love with you.” He smashes his lips onto yours, and you immediately reciprocate the passion behind it. You run your hand through his hair as he cups your face in his hands. Pulling away slightly, your foreheads rest against each other.

“You’re not going anywhere. I promise you.”

“(Y/n), you kno-“ he’s cut off as Thomas walks in.

“It’s time.”

You were inside the WCKD building having a firefight with their soldiers as Thomas, Newt, and you, were looking for Minho. Running around a bend, you’re confronted by a single soldier. “Stop, you three!” He demands. You all jump when a figure comes out of nowhere, kneeing the soldier into the wall. Immediately, you recognize the dark haired boy. “Minho!” You all collectively yell. “Is this real?” He asks. You wonder what they must have done to him and the thought of it made you sick to your stomach. After a short reunion, you run around a corner to take cover. Newt slowly slides down a wall as he rips off his mask. A coughing fit racks his chest and you run over to him as he starts to wheeze. “Newt, we have to go and get the serum!” Turning to the group, you yell, “We have to go now! Newt needs the serum soon!”

Thomas nods, and you help Newt off the floor. Luckily, he can still stand by himself. Without his WCKD mask on, you can see the dark veins inching up his neck, and a shudder runs through you.

“Thanks, love.”

“Hang on, okay?”

“Always.”

Firing back at the soldiers who came around the corner, you run into a room and lock the door. The four of you look around the small room for an exit but find none. “Oh, shuck.” You whisper under your breath.

You assume the worst; that you’re going to be killed by WCKD after fighting so hard for so long. Turning to Newt, you hold his face in your hands, “No matter what happens, know I love yo-“ You stop at seeing bright orange sparks coming from the door, meaning they were drilling through the lock! You all start backing away from the door and towards the windows behind you. Newt pushes you behind him in anticipation. “Any ideas?” Minho announces. Turning around, you see Thomas looking down through the window. “Maybe.” He says unsurely.

Minho and Thomas pick up a large metal barrel and throws it through the window, shattering it. Looking down, you see it splash into the water below; 20 stories below. “Okay, it’s doable.......Just need a running start.” Says an out of breath Thomas. Walking back towards the door, Minho asks, “You sure about this?” to which Thomas wearily responds, “Not really.” Grabbing Newt’s hand, “Nice pep talk.” You quip. As he squeezes your hand, Newt speaks, “Yeah, we’re all bloody inspired.”

In a matter of seconds, the whirring of the drill stops and the door flies open with a bang! Before guards can to flood into the room, you all start running and jump through the window. Your stomach was in your throat and you felt like you were falling for minutes. You all screamed as you flew through the air, landing into the surprisingly deep pool.

When you emerged from the water, you took a deep breath and heard Newt call your name. You all swam to the side of the pool, helping Newt get out last. The virus was starting to shut him down. It shook you to your core but also lit a fire inside of you to make sure he got the serum. Hearing the sound of WCKD guns charging, you spin around to see four guards aiming their guns at you. “You four, don’t move!” One of them yells. “You gotta to be kidding me.” Whispers Thomas.

As you start to slowly reach for your pistol, another guard sees you. “Uh-uh-uh. Don’t even think about it, girl!” You take your hand off your gun and place them in the air when all of a sudden, one of the soldiers turns and shoots the others! They take off their mask to reveal their identity; it’s Gally again. “Gally??” Asks Minho. Shuck, he still thinks he killed him! Gally nods curtly. “Minho.” Any other time, you would have laughed at Minho’s facial expression, but this was a serious moment with serious consequences.

Gally starts to run and motions for us to follow. We continue running for a short time before taking cover behind some concrete barriers. You slide down next to Newt as he begins to cough again. Taking his hand in yours, you lean over and kiss his cheek. He was burning up despise the fact you just jumped into freezing cold water. Minho squats down to talk to Newt and you make your way over to Gally and Thomas, asking, “How far away are the tunnels?”

“Uh, maybe 12 blocks from here.” Looking over to the boy you loved, you see his body shaking with every cough that escaped his mouth. Sensing your worry, Gally states, “We can make it.”

You see Minho coming towards you with a concerned face after talking with Newt. “How long has he been like this?” He asks. Without thinking, you respond, “He’ll be okay. We just have to get to Brenda. She’s got the serum.” Getting up and walking towards Newt, you try and help him up, but fail. “Come on, Newt. Let’s get you up, love.” After another failed attempt, your eyes start to water and your voice breaks. “Thomas, c-can you help me?” He runs over and helps get your love off the hard concrete. He stumbles into Thomas, but luckily he catches him before he can fall again.

Your small group begins to run as fast as they can, more like speed walk, towards the tunnels. Newt is being supported by both Minho and Thomas on both sides. Gally is leading the front and you are covering the back. All of a sudden, there’s an enormous explosion at the wall. Lawerence, you thought. This was his plan all along! “We’re trying to take down WCKD, not the whole shucking city.” You say. The group, except for Gally, starts moving again but his eyes stay glued on the giant hole in the wall. “Gally, come on!” You yell at him.

Now you were close to the tunnels, and close to saving the love of your life. As you round a corner, you see WCKD guards swarming the area, but luckily they haven’t seen you. “Hey! Stay low! Stay low!” Gally demands as you once again take cover behind a tall concrete slab surrounding a tree. Sliding next to Newt, you take a deep breath and try not to think about everything going wrong. “Shoot!” Thomas exclaims from beside you.

Hearing the WCKD soldiers yell, “GET READY,” you knew something was big was about to happen. “What are they waiting for?” Asks Minho in a low voice. Before any of you could respond, another large explosion goes off. This one was much closer to you and was immediately followed by screaming, gunfire, and more explosions. You all duck lower behind your cover as bullets and debris strike it.

“We’ve gotta get out of here!” You yell to the group, but mainly Gally. “Let’s go! Let’s go now!” He yells back in response. Minho and Thomas help Newt once again and you take up the rear, watching to make sure you weren’t seen by WCKD. Looking at the scene behind you, it was chaos. It would be a miracle if you got out of this alive.

Continuing to move towards the tunnels, your mind wandered to the what if’s of the situation; what if Newt doesn’t get the serum in time? What if you don’t make it out of here? These thoughts swirled around your head as you ran through the now burning last city. Seeing a rocket coming your way, you yell for everyone to jump into the abandoned store on your right. Once inside, the RPG goes off where you were moments before. The boys propped Newt up against the counter and Thomas went to try to get a hold of Brenda on his walkie.

You crouch down in front of Newt. “Hey, love.” He rasps, wheezing.

“Hey, Newt. How are you feeling. Don’t sugarcoat it for me either.”

“Bloody terrible, honestly; but I’m glad you’re here. You make it better.” He raises his shaking hand and pushes a strand of your (y/h/c) hair behind your ear.

“We’re so close, Newt. Stay strong for just a little bit longer. Please, do it for me.”

“I’ll try, (y/n/n). Have I-“ a cough escapes his lips, “Have I told you how much I love you?”

Leaning down, you allow him to kiss your forehead but the moment is interrupted by Thomas. “Brenda’s coming to us. We gotta move!” Helping Newt up, you get on the move again through the now violence filled city.

Going through old businesses and homes, Gally calls out, “Alright, Newt, we’re almost there!”

“Just leave me,” you hear him say, breaking your heart. He didn’t think you’d actually leave him, did he? As you are about to cross the road a burning car comes flying past you on its side. “Get back!” Gally yells to the group. You all duck behind cover, you squatting next to Newt. Looking him over, you see the spider-like veins have made their way into his face. He also has a dark liquid running out of his mouth. “Oh Newt,” you whisper, voice breaking, as you wipe the foreign substance off of his chin.

You take his face in your hands as he just looks at yours with a blank stare. The chaos around you intensifies, leading Thomas to make an executive decision. “Minho, you’ve gotta run ahead and get the serum. Get back as soon as you can.” He nods and turns to Newt who snaps out of his trance. “Minho. Thank you.”

“You just hang in there, alright?”

“I’ll cover you,” Gally offers. You’re about to thank them as well but you feel a weak tug on your shirt.

Turning to Newt, you see tears in his eyes. “Wait,” clearing his throat, he continues, “(y/n), love, you need to-to go with them.” He wheezes. You suddenly burst into tears.

“No! I’m not leaving you! I love you, so there’s no shucking chance I’m leaving your side!” You see his eyes go wild, but it’s too late for you to brace yourself.

“GO! IF YOU REALLY LOVE ME, GO!” He takes a few breaths that were more like loud wheezes. The crazed look disappears, and your Newt was back. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this, (y/n). I love you more than anything. Now go!”

Not caring about the state of his appearance, you grabbed his face and kissed him hard. “(Y/n)! I’m sorry, but we have to go.” Gally demands. You pull apart and whisper, “If anything happens, know I love you. I’ll see you in a minute.” He sluggishly nods and Gally covers you and Minho with gunfire as you run across the road towards Brenda; towards the serum.

Your legs are moving faster than ever before along with your heart, which you thought would pop out of your chest. As the explosions and gunshots were going off around you, you didn’t focus on them. You were only focused on Newt. All the memories the two of you shared flashed in your mind. The time you first met him: The boy with the accent squats down in front of you, and with a kind voice, he says, “Hi, love. My name is Newt.” The time he comforted you after escaping the WCKD compound: Squeezing you tighter, he kissed the top of your head, whispering, “We’ll get through this together, (y/n). We’ve come this far, and I know we still have a long ways to go, but I know we will be alright as long as we’re together. I love you so much, (y/n/n).”

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by a scream from a familiar voice. It was Brenda with the serum! “(Y/n)!! (Y/n)!”

“Brenda!!” You yelled back, sprinting towards her. Minho tried to stop you as you ran across the chaos filled road. Reaching Brenda, you grab the vile and turn around to run back the way you came. Minho and Gally were pinned down by heavy gunfire. “(Y/n)! Go! Save him!” Gally yelled. Following orders, you sprint back towards Newt. The city was now in fiery ruins as you ran through the war torn streets.

When you were about a block away from Newt and Thomas, you were rushing to cross a road when an explosion pushed you up against the nearest wall, eliciting a groan from you. Your ears started ringing and your head began to throb. At this point, you had totally forgotten about your concussion, but you were quickly reminded of it. After a few seconds, you dizzily leave the wall and continue running.

You turned a corner and saw them. Stopping in surprise, you feel your heart skip a beat. Newt was on top of Thomas.

“Sorry, Tommy. Tell (y/n) I love her.” Newt whispers before grabbing Thomas’ gun and pointing it at his own head.

“No! Newt!” You scream, starting to run towards the scene. You only get his attention for a split second, but it was enough time for Thomas to knock the gun out of Newt’s hand. He sends it skidding across the concrete and it skids to a stop at your feet. Newt inhumanely howled in response and started fighting Thomas. Picking up the gun, you yell, “I’ve got it, Thomas! We need to give it to him now!”

Newt pulls out a knife and starts to slash at Thomas, prompting you to run closer to them. You run and throw your body on Newt’s, knocking him off of Thomas. He growls and quickly gets on top of you, pinning your hips down. Pulling out the knife, he starts to bring the knife down as you yell with tears in your eyes, “Newt! Stop!” His eyes clear and he drops the knife. Out of breath, he wheezes.

“(Y/n)? Get out of here. I’m so sorry, love.” In an instant, your Newt was gone, replaced by the bloodthirsty one with crazed eyes. You reach for the serum in your pocket and your heart drops when you no longer feel the vial. As Newt scrambles to pick up the knife again, you buck him off, quickly getting to your feet. “Thomas! Where’s the vial!?” The both of you begin to frantically look around the large area until you see it. It lies 10 feet away, somehow unbroken.

You make a beeline to the small glass container as Newt goes after Thomas with the knife. Reaching the life-giving serum, you begin to run back towards the boys. Newt charges at Thomas, wildly swinging the knife. Before he can get to him, you slam into him, once again tackling him to the ground. Adrenaline coursing through you, you quickly inject the serum into his neck.

He stills as silence envelops the area. ‘I was too late,’ you thought. Collapsing on top of him, you begin to sob into his chest. Thomas falls to his knees next to the both of you, head in his hands. “No. Please no. Ne-“ He’s interrupted by a loud gasp that escapes Newts mouth. Shooting up, you see his lovely brown eyes staring back at you. “(Y/n)?”Grabbing his face, you press your lips on his, ignoring Thomas’ excited shouts behind you. Newt runs his hands through your hair, deepening the kiss.

Pulling away, you both smile ear to ear. “How? How am I alive?”

“I got the serum from Brenda. Newt, I-I’m just so glad you’re okay. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, (y/n/n). You were the only thing that kept me going, love. When I told you to leave, it was because I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer. I didn’t want to hurt you. I-I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you, especially if I did something.”

He pulls you in close and wraps his arms around you. After a few seconds, he recognizes that Thomas was waiting to talk to him. You draw back, sensing this, allowing them to have a happy reunion.

Moments later, Brenda, Gally, and Minho come running, all exclaiming in happiness when they see Newt is okay. Although you were enjoying the moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling something wasn’t right. You shrug it off as your stress and continue on with the reunion. Gally clears his throat, “I don’t mean to break this up, but the city is falling down around us. We’ve gotta go.”

As you were making your way through the war torn streets to the berg, a sharp pain coursed through your body, causing you to cry out and lean against the nearest wall. Everyone’s heads snapped your way and Newt ran over to you. “Love, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Getting harder to breathe from the pain, you wheeze, “My side, Newt. It shuckin’ hurts.” Pulling off your jacket, he curses underneath his breath.

You look down and see a piece of metal protruding from your side with blood oozing from it. It was about three inches wide and who knows how long. “Gally!” Newt yells, “What do we do?”

“Uh, don’t pull it out, we need to get to the berg soon, but she should be fine.”

“Thanks. I’m going to carry you, love.”

“No,” you start, “You’re still weak. I can try to walk.” Attempting to take a single step, you collapse into his arms.

“I’ve got you, (y/n/n).” Gally says, gently sweeping you off of your feet.

Before you know it, you’re on the berg being treated by a medic. Newt was by your side the whole time. When they pulled the metal out, you screamed in pain as Newt squeezed your hand in reassurance. The pain caused your vision to go white and you heard voices above you, but they soon faded too.

Tag List:

@justfangirlthingies @lemur46 @cami05sworld

#newt x glader! reader #tmr newt #newt #newt angst #newt fluff #newt x y/n #newt x reader #cranks #the maze runner #the death cure #the scorch trials #the last city #wckd #gladers #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst #the flare

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ninjago-happens-here · 3 years

Text

'Bandages come in many ways. There are gauze bandages, treating all kinds of wounds the Ninja may have. There are bandages used to prevent injury in Martial Arts. What P.I.X.A.L. is wondering, is that if mankind has a bandage for the heart.'

@ninjago-angst-week am I late or what? Sorry but I think spewing out 21k words over teh course of 3 days killed my motivation. It took 3 days just to write 6.1k words.

Summary:

P.I.X.A.L. notices that the store of bandages is running low. She thinks about all the times she had to use them on one of her teammates, and its purposes.

“Hey Pix! We’re running low on bandages. Can you help us order some before we go to Shintaro?” Nya’s voice came from the medical bay of the Destiny’s Bounty. The Ninja and Master Wu were going on a trip to Shintaro. Unfortunately, Pixal never got an invite, but she has long been used to being left behind. It’s not that it was a bad thing, per se. Pixal knew the importance of having a backup, and having someone watch over Ninjago whilst the Ninja were gone. Still, to distract herself after placing a digital order, she thought about anything that could distract her. That thing just happened to be about bandages.

Bandages. Neat, white little things that wrap around any land or sky creature. According to Wikipedia, a bandage is a piece of material used either to support a medical device such as a dressing or splint, or on its own to provide support to or to restrict the movement of a part of the body. When used with a dressing, the dressing is applied directly to a wound, and a bandage is used to hold the dressing in place. Other bandages are used without dressings, such as elastic bandages that are used to reduce swelling or provide support to a sprained ankle. Tight bandages can be used to slow blood flow to an extremity, such as when a leg or arm is bleeding heavily.

At first, that was all P.I.X.A.L. knew about bandages. Given that she was built with the main purpose of being Cyrus Borg’s assistant, her primary knowledge consisted mostly of the ins and outs of Borg Tower, emergency protocols, customer service skills, and basic first aid, given that her maker was frailer than your average Ninjago citizen.

Of course, the longer she worked under Cyrus Borg, the more she learnt about the medical field. Curious about Mr Borg’s special circumstances, she was permitted to look through the internet for more information. In no time at all, she learnt about surgery, prosthetics, all different kinds of medication, and how to diagnose illnesses. In her given free time, she studied all the information available on the internet about the medical field. Even though the information was useless to her, an android who had no physical weaknesses like the humans do, her system determined that whilst the knowledge was a bit excessive, it only helps to prepare her to care for Mr Borg.

She never really needed to apply all that knowledge about serious and fatal cuts, but when Borg gets even the slightest injury, P.I.X.A.L. was there to offer her assistance.

A year after she had been created, Cyrus Borg had offered her to take a test of the field in medicine. P.I.X.A.L. had immediately felt lighter and better somehow. When asking Borg why she was feeling this way and if robots could get sick, Borg had laughed in surprise and shock.

“That feeling is happiness, P.I.X.A.L.! It’s an emotion that all living creatures feel, you included.”

“But I am not living-“ Mr Borg cut her off.

“Technically, you are right, P.I.X.A.L., but you are intelligence, and intelligence is what defines life. You can adapt, change, and overcome as all living beings do. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise! Because that would be an insult to my intelligence!” Cyrus Borg said encouragingly. “And robots can technically get sick, from a digital virus. But I created you to be strong, stronger than I ever will be. You should not have to worry about them.”

P.I.X.A.L. nodded her head to show her understanding. “Then I will go to the exam.”

P.I.X.A.L. didn’t pass on her first try, but Mr Borg told her that it was alright, given that she still did very well considering that she only had the free internet to look for answers to a test she was unprepared for. It was human for her to have failed.

“So why did you send me there with no preparation?” P.I.X.A.L. asked with a shaking voice.

“To prepare you for failure, my dear!” Cyrus Borg said patronisingly. “Since I’ve built you, you’ve been perfect in many, many ways. And that isn’t a bad thing! But life isn’t that simple. You may fail in one way or another in the future because like humans, the circumstances may not be what you desired and plans can fall apart due to errors. What I want you to know is how failure feels like, and I will help you recover from it.”

P.I.X.A.L. nodded. It won’t be long before she faced her first, real big failure.

- Lloyd - The first time she had to really apply those skills that she learnt was when the team had seen Lloyd in the village. After he was pulled out of the ocean because he had to escape from an exploding plane that the Digilord had trapped him on. The locals had wanted to help, but Lloyd wasn’t feeling like having strangers cut him up, so they offered him some basic and outdated medical supplies.

P.I.X.A.L. could see him trying to treat himself and to stay awake, and she could see him hiss as the alcohol drizzled on his wounds.

“LLOYD!” Kai shouted in a tone that conveyed panic. This made the young ultimate spinjitzu master look up from his handiwork and immediately break into a smile. As the team had rushed forward to greet him, P.I.X.A.L. could see that his shoulders were sagging, probably from relief.

“I’m so sorry that I got caught guys,” Lloyd wheezed with an apologetic smile before keeling over, to which Cole caught him with shaking hands.

“Oh god, Zane, quick, do your thing!” Kai panicked even harder, hands jittery as if he was in an internal debate about whether he should do something or not. “I’m trying Kai! I just- my hands keep shaking for some reason!” Zane gritted his teeth in frustration. “I’m gonna run some diagnostics on him” “Okay, Cole, lie him on a flat surface- medic! Medic!” Nya screamed out.

It was at this moment that P.I.X.A.L. knew that was her chance. To repay Zane for his heart. To prove to the team that she was useful. To finally implement her knowledge. Sometimes, she wonders if she’ll ever have what Zane has with the other humans, but for now, she is glad that she can separate her emotions from her work.

“Let me handle it,” P.I.X.A.L. said authoritatively. Running a scan with her own diagnostics, P.I.X.A.L. isolated the most dangerous injuries before telling the group out loud, staring at her apprehensively.

“Master Lloyd has suffered a concussion, lung damage due to smoke inhalation, and fractured bones in his tibia. He also has a sprained ankle and several bones on his upper chest area have several bruises. Luckily, there is no internal bleeding. He also has some first and second-degree burns, but those look like they have been treated by the ocean water. However, he is at risk of hypothermia should he not change out of those clothes. Other cuts and bruises should not be life-threatening as long as we keep the infection away, and-“

“WE GET IT! Can you just PLEASE start treating Lloyd NOW?” Jay shrieked in frustration. P.I.X.A.L. blinked. Oh right, the ninjas are still panicking.

“Apologies, can I have a look at the medical supplies?” Taking a scalpel out of the medical box, P.I.X.A.L. removed Lloyd Garmadon’s shirt and so multiple bruises as well as the look of someone who’s emancipated. It didn’t really make any sense to her, but she supposed that being drained of his elemental powers must have caused some damage.

“To treat his concussion, he needs peace and to rest. I would like if all of you can speak in whispers from now on,” P.I.X.A.L. began. The soup suddenly looked ashamed and guilty, with Jay whispering a soft ‘sorry’.

“To treat his hypothermia, we would need blankets-“

“Why can’t I just warm him up with fire?” Kai cut across. “Well, the extreme heat can damage the skin or, even worse, cause irregular heartbeats so severe that they can cause the heart to stop. However, starting a campfire some meters away could help a little. using this fire, we can make some warm beverages and some food.”

“Just say what we gotta do doc, we’ll listen!” Nya begged swiftly. P.I.X.A.L. thought for a moment, before choosing to sort people out based on their perceived abilities.

“Kai, Jay, Cole, Sensei Wu, and Sensei Garmadon- please look for blankets in the village and start a campfire over there,” Pointing at a spot a satisfactory distance from Lloyd, P.I.X.A.L. continued with giving instructions. “Start making some sort of soup- not too heavy. Zane, Nya- you’re with me.”

Garmadon, who was silent all this time, started to protest. “I cannot leave my son, Pixal.”

“Fine, you may stay and just keep tending to the campfire,” P.I.X.A.L. conceded, not wanting to waste time arguing. There was the matter of fact that the smoke inhaled by Lloyd Garmadon could be fatal, but there was not much that she could do in his location. All she could hope to do was to treat his minor injuries before ensuring that Lloyd is stable enough to go to a hospital in Ninjago. Which would have been impossible, given that the Digilord had control of the city already. What could she do? Maybe there’s an elemental master of the air who could treat Lloyd?

“Pix, do you not have any ideas on how to treat the smoke inhalation?” Zane looked at her with kind and understanding eyes. Pixal nodded, defeated, before preparing a cast. “We need concentrated oxygen and a nose tube or a tube down his throat. Unfortunately, there is nowhere in Ninjago where we can get to such technology.”

Hearing this, Nya immediately perked up. “But we can make them. Zane, do you have any wires that you can spare for a bit?”

“Redirecting power from the right hand,” Zane replied as he opened up his arm to take out a tube. He’s so self-sacrificing. For some strange reason, P.I.X.A.L. felt her heart beating faster. Maybe Zane was nervous? “Nya, if you could please clean this?”

“Of course. HEY KAI!” “Yeah, sis?” Nya was looking at P.I.X.A.L. expectantly. Oh yes. she was supposed to know this, wasn’t she? “Can you get us 10 cups of potable water and 1 cup of vinegar? Also, get some detergent or soap.” “Okay Pix, not gonna question this at all!”

Meanwhile, Nya was using pure H2O to just start blasting the tubing As much as they wanted Lloyd to not die from smoke inhalation, they also didn’t want him to be infected. Speaking of infections…

“Ow!” Lloyd woke up sleepily as Zane used one hand to dab his cuts. Looking sheepish, Zane immediately offered an apology before Nya cuts in and admitting her mistake.

“Go back to Lloyd,” Nya said, petting his hair. Once Kai had returned with the necessary materials, Nya sanitised her hands before delicately cleaning the tube with 10 parts water and 1 part vinegar.

Tightening the wrappings around Lloyd’s ankle, Pixal studied her handiwork. The splint was holding up nicely against Lloyd’s leg, and all the infections on Lloyd’s legs were taken care of. Seeing as Zane is treating Lloyd well enough, P.I.X.A.L. immediately began to start diagnosing Lloyd’s burns before seeing blood flow from Lloyd’s back.

“Oh, dear.” In her hast, P.I.X.A.L. had forgotten to check Lloyd for injuries from behind. Maybe she wasn’t as professional as she thought. There was no other choice. Looking at Zane firmly, they pushed Lloyd onto his side as he gave a pained groan.

P.I.X.A.L.’s mechanical heart sank. Lloyd had a reason for sitting up without any support. There were several pieces of debris stuck to his back, and they were all pushed in due to them lying Lloyd on the desk. Nya looked up from her task in horror.

“I’m so sorry Lloyd, I didn’t know-“ “Nya, please focus on your task,” P.I.X.A.L. cut her off before she could begin crying. She felt bad, but what’s done was done. Blocking Lloyd from’s Nya’s view, P.I.X.A.L. picked up a pair of tweezers before picking up the small pieces. But the large piece of metal stuck in his shoulder blades- Pixal had to cut Lloyd’s skin to get that out. Eyes narrowing, hardening her resolve- P.I.X.A.L. lightly cut Lloyd’s skin using the scalpel before pulling up a long shard of bloodied glass. Picking up some of the unused water, P.I.X.A.L. quickly cleared Lloyd and the flat-surfaced of their blood. Applying pressure to those wounds would be hard from this angle, so after disinfecting the openings, P.I.X.A.L. took several rolls of bandages before tying them around Lloyd’s chest. Not too tightly, that would further bruise his ribs- but tight enough to ensure a sense of security and staunch the oozing bleeding.

“Zane, do you have an oxygen filter?” Nya asked, having been satisfied by the cleanliness of the tubing. Sanitising her metallic hands, P.I.X.AL. heard Zane sigh before declining.

“I do. Mr Borg wanted us to be at least a little environmentally friendly, given that the Nindroids would be using large amounts of energy every day. So I can filter out excess greenhouse gases in the air and store them in their solid form before giving the raw materials back to Borg Industries,” P.I.X.A.L. offered.

“You’re a lifesaver Pix,” Nya said in relief, handing P.I.X.A.L. the tubing. P.I.X.A.L. smiled. She supposed that she actually was. Opening Lloyd Garmadon’s mouth, P.I.X.A.L. inserted the tubing down his throat with NIndroid precision. Connecting the end to her oxygen filter, P.I.X.A.L. adjusted the settings so that she was inputting air composing of at least 60% oxygen into young Garmadon’s lungs.

As Zane finished applying some frost to Lloyd’s burns, the 3 of them stood there and watched as Lloyd breathed in and out.

“If you guys don’t mind, I’ll go find what the guys have been doing,” Nya informed their group. “I too will go into the village, but to ensure that we have permission to stay here for the night,” Zane stated, giving a nod to P.I.X.A.L., before walking away into the dusk, right hand locked and useless.

P.I.X.A.L., knowing that she can’t really move, sat next to Lloyd Garmadon as she watched the campfire grow as shrieks from the ninja team rose. At the end of today, all P.I.X.A.L. wanted to do was to just shut down and recharge. She knows she doesn’t need to know that she had half of Zane’s heart (which just skipped another beat for some unknown reason), but all she wants was a break.

Too bad that being a ninja means that you don’t really get to choose when to stop. P.I.X.A.L. thought to herself.

But at least today, I’ve proved my usefulness. I can repay Zane for his heart.

- Kai - Having been stuck alone, disassembled and scrapped, P.I.X.A.L. found that she really, really missed the Ninja team. She also missed Zane, though he was in a cell next to hers. He’s been offline for such a long time, P.I.X.A.L. had fears that he would never wake up.

But he did. And the ninja had rescued them from Chen. But along the way, they had lost Sensei Garmadon, and the year apart had caused some major issues.

Kai doesn’t know that they’re here. But he shouldn’t be here either after Zane had ordered that everyone go to rest after this long day. Still, the glint of red from his eyes even scared P.I.X.A.L., but she would never tell anyone that. She watched as Kai shredded the bandages he wrapped around his hands by destroying a metal training dummy, before turning around to wrap some more.

“Why is he doing that?” P.I.X.A.L. wondered from inside Zane’s head. Zane started whispering, “He… has some anger issues.”

“I get that Zane, I mean why’s he wrapping his hands in bandages?” P.I.X.A.L. corrected herself. Zane quirked an eyebrow but continued with answering P.I.X.A.L.’s questions. “Well, martial artists wear hand wraps and bandages because they can prevent injuries and improve the power of their punches. Wraps and bandages also protect the martial artist’s skin and soften the impact on hard surfaces.”

“I see,” P.I.X.A.L. stated whilst both of them cringed, as Kai delivered a particularly hard blow to the metallic dummy that Zane was supposed to fight with.

“KAI, PLEASE SHUT UP!” came Jay’s voice from down the corridor, moving closer towards them. Zane and P.I.X.A.L. watched in apprehension as Kai breathed heavily, staring down the metallic dummy before all the tension from his shoulders sagged.

The Nindroids watched as Kai cleaned up the training room and head out to use the bathroom to wash up.

“He’s being too hard on himself for the death of Lloyd’s father,” P.I.X.AL. commented blandly. Zane shifted from his position. “I’m afraid that that’s not the only reason. Do you remember Jay telling us that Kai had almost killed both Lloyd and Skylor using Chen’s staff?” P.I.X.A.L. stayed silent.

Bandages come in many ways. There are gauze bandages, treating all kinds of wounds the Ninja may have. There are bandages used to prevent injury in Martial Arts. What P.I.X.A.L. is wondering, is that if mankind has a bandage for the heart.

- Jay - It was only a few days after Master Wu had been lost in time. Whilst the Ninja team were recuperating and in shock, Pixal has been remotely using Samurai X to patrol the cities whilst maintaining in the current Ninja’s headquarters- the electronic system of Yang’s temple. P.I.X.AL. had really wanted to go full into Samurai X, but she knew that she could not just desert her teammates at this moment. But there wasn’t much she could do, other than counting reps for Lloyd. (You skipped a number, I know what you’re doing Pix, and I ain’t gonna stop training-) helping Jay prepare breakfast (Jay! The pancakes are burning!) or accompanying Zane as he retrieved bits and pieces from all the fighting. (Someone has to clean up Ninjago city, and I guess that that would be me and Samurai X.)

P.I.X.A.L. knew that she shouldn’t be keeping Samurai X a secret, but she couldn’t help herself. She felt a strange sense of duty, and the ability to finally be on the front lines, fighting the same enemies as Zane. And she wanted some secrets to herself.

Still, it surprised her when Jay had demanded her full attention during one of her free times.

“Hey, umm… Pix? Do you- do you think you could maybe check out my left eye?” Jay stammered whilst twiddling his fingers. Pixal was curious, but she’s already moved to Jay’s laptop. “Why do you ask so? Did your eye get hit sometime recently?”

Jay had flinched at the word ‘hit’, but shook his head at the word ‘recently’. Huh. Maybe it was phantom pains? Still, Pixal had run a diagnostic on it.

“I can’t seem to find any physical abnormalities, but if this is a case of phantom pain, over the counter pain relievers should work.”

Jay nodded whilst his eyes were blank seemingly off to another world or lost in his memories.

“Jay? Jay, can you hear me?” Pixal once again ran a diagnostic scan. It seems that Jay was slipping into dissociation. Dimming the lights in his room as well as all the screens the blue ninja had put into his room. Pixal started playing a calm Ninjago lofi mix from the speaker she was in. She gently called Jay’s name and he slipped back into reality.

“Jay, just take 2 doses of ibuprofen. They’re at the lowest shelf at the kitchen counter. If it hurts again, tell me and we’ll bring you to a professional.”

Jay who was nodding at the instructions froze at the thought of being taken to the hospital. Still, he slid off his bed and made his way downstairs. Pixal filtered through the electronic system of the temple, landing new the smart fridge and watched as Jay swallowed 2 pills dry.

It seemed to create some results because Jay stopped shivering and shaking. Pixal wondered if that was just a placebo or an actual effect. Still, watching Jay’s face relax in bliss, free from whatever pain that was bothering him, Pixal knew that she made the right call.

- Nya - S9, fight with SOG

It had been brutal. Pixal was just treating the training injuries Lloyd had when Skylor came into the noodle house, helping Nya to walk as her left arm dangled without any purpose. Immediately, Pixal stood up and took quick strides, scanning Nya for all her injuries.

“We were getting supplies when a bunch of Harumi’s goons jumped on us, we had to be quick so that none of them could call up for back up, when-“ “When- fuck, when this dude pulled out a fucking gun,” Nya said, pained and heaving as Skylor slowly helped her to sit on the training mat.

“So you were shot?” Lloyd’s voice came from behind Pixal as he took the medkit to the mat. Nya eyes looked everywhere but at him. Gesturing to her limp and bleeding arm, she gave up all her dignity. “Yeah, right here.”

“Okay, Nya, here, take these.” Lloyd handed her 2 tablets of ibuprofen and a cup of water. “W-what? No, I can’t take these!” Nya hissed in pain.

“Yes, you can!” “What if we need them later? What if one of us loses an arm or something happens where we have a worse injury?” “That does not matter, Nya. Look, I’ve been shot in Ninjago city before, I know how it feels.”

Pixal immediately flashes back to the nights where she had to help Lloyd through a computer screen, and her metallic fingers curled up. It was horrible, watching him choking down painkillers before trying to pull the bullet out himself. Never again.

“Nya, it would be alright, just take these- we can always go out to get more,” Pixal tried coaxing Nya to just swallow the pills.

“Take them or I’ll force you to take them, Water Ninja.” Skylor admonished. With the combined strength of their motley crew of 3, Nya hesitantly reached for the medicine, almost choking as she had swallowed too much water at one go.

“Okay, good, now we just need to pull the bullet out,” Lloyd reached into the medkit, pulling out a pair of tweezers. Pixal watched as his hands, fatigued from all the trains, couldn’t stop shaking.

“Wait, Lloyd, let me see if the bullet should be removed at all.” Pixal interrupted, taking a more in-depth scan at Nya’s shoulder. In the meantime, Lloyd started to check through Skylor, who said that he was all clear except for a few knuckle bruises. Of course, Pixal would check on her later, but now she had to make sure that Nya would be alright.

“The bullet has missed your major arteries and it actually isn’t in too deep, possibly because of the protection offered by your suit-“ “Just tell me when you’re gonna remove it!” Nya snapped as her brow furrowed in anticipation. “Well, let’s see… first, we need to remove the clothing around the area of the wound, which-“

“AHH!” Nya shrieked as Pixal twisted and pulled out the bullet without any warning. “Sorry Nya, sometimes fear of a thing could be greater than the actual danger that it poses,” Pixal explained as Nya stared at her with a look that could only scream betrayal.

Dropping the bullet to the ground, Pixal took up some disinfectant and sanitised the area around the entry wound. Nya hissed as Pixal gently presses a cotton gauze to stop the bleeding before finally applying some sort of disinfectant cream. She finished off the wound with a bandage around Nya’s arm, with extra padding using gauze at the point where the wound is at.

“Alright, so now you should not move this arm too much for the next few days, and in the next few weeks, you would not be able to raise it over your shoulder. But in a few months, you can use it again and in a year it would be pretty much healed up so that you may do your weight lifting sessions with- with Cole again…” Pixal said, starting brightly but dropping to a small whisper.

The mood suddenly went from cheery to depressive. “Remember to take lots of rest,” Pixal finished lamely. As Lloyd escorted Nya to the sleeping bags they had gathered, Skylor picked up the bullet Pixal had removed.

“Girl, you were quite mean back there,” Skylor began. “And I think that you’re cool. One problem- the pharmacies have not been able to continue business as normal. All the drugs have to be given to the Sons of Garmadon. In the meantime, all supply chains are disrupted. Over the counter medicine won’t be so easy to find. “

Pixal kept quiet. “Well, I’ll have to keep this bullet as a souvenir for Nya. FSM knows that she deserves this.”

Of course, the bullet would be lost later as they were hunted down throughout the city. But every time Nya changed into her swimsuit, Pixal could see the bullet wound. The scarring left wasn’t pretty, but Pixal thought that the courage Nya showed made her the most beautiful woman she’ll ever have the chance to meet.

- Cole- Cole was alive. Cole was alive!

Pixal watched as the Ninja went into a momentary stop before cheering and becoming more alive. She saw Nya pass the Scythe of Earth to Cole, who promptly swung it into the oncoming Oni. Pixal was trying her best to fend off the Oni herself, but her mind, or rather, motherboard, was spinning really, really fast. How did Cole survive? It should have been impossible!

Pixal heard that Cole justify his survival, stating that the Oni clouds must have broken his fall. He didn’t know how he wasn’t attacked at first, but many tendrils then came to attack him.

Still, this was impossible for Pixal to figure out. Was it because Cole had been a ghost? Maybe it was his elemental power protecting him? Or perhaps it was divine intervention? Either way, Pixal was going o scan him later if there was even a later.

“Watch out!” Pixal saw a blast of green hit the Oni in front of her. I can’t afford to get lost in thought now! Come on Samurai X, focus! She chided to herself.

Yet, as the battle once again turned tides, and the elemental masters got together to do the Tornado of Creation, Pixal watched from her position behind the holding doors to see Lloyd Garmadon get thrown out of the tornado, hitting his head with an earth-shattering crack as he collapsed against the walls of the monastery before debris-covered him.

Frantically approaching him, Pixal saw out of the corner of her eye that the rest of the ninja were left dizzy, exhausted, and possibly some having passed out. That was alright. It was time for her to do her duty anyways.

However, whilst lifting slabs of concrete, Pixal felt her heart drop. The calculated survival rate of the impact sent shivers down Pixal’s circuits as the percentage just kept. Dropping. Lower.

Heaving the last piece of concrete off the young bearer of green power, Pixal heard her teammates rushing into the scene. She could have warned them, said something, said anything. But her joints were frozen in place with something much colder than what her sensors had detected when she went into the Oni cloud.

The motley crew, now only 5, took the last piece of debris off from their teammate.

“Lloyd. Buddy, wake up,” Kai pleaded, desperate. “He-He's not moving!” Nya exclaimed, voice shaking as tears start to form. She looked at Pixal, asking for anything, anything at all. “Someone find Wu. Where’s Wu?” Cole ordered.

In no time, Master Wu arrived and lifted Lloyd’s arm, checking his pulse. He would find nothing there.

“You can do something, right? Right?!” Jay panicked. With a defeated look that Pixal knows is mirrored in her eyes, Wu shook his head and said, “There’s nothing to be done.” Nya finally cries out, sobbing. “Oh, Lloyd!”

PIxal wanted to cry as well, but she never could. When rebuilding her body, she had used the same blueprints that Cyrus Borg had with some upgrades. One thing she didn’t consider adding was the ability to cry because there wasn’t any time. She had to save Lloyd from the vermillion. But what she can’t save Lloyd from, was from an early- early- d… fate.

There’s nothing Pixal could do. And she felt hopeless.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Garmadon backed away from their small group, and in a flash, she felt her wires burning. She couldn’t just let him leave. Not after what he’s done.

Yet, just as she was about to boost straight towards the Oni and tackle him off the mountain, Lloyd started to cough. Lloyd. Started to cough.

Whipping around to see a golden petal float away, she watched the team cheer as Lloyd started to breathe. How- this was impossible! Pixal almost short-circuited from shock. There had been no way! No way! She didn’t even go through all 5 stages of grief yet.

And not too soon, Lloyd woke up from a sleep that she was sure that he never would.

Catching him mumbling something about the First Spinjitzu Master, Pixal smiled. Divine intervention had definitely happened at least once today. The first time being….

“Cole, please come with me to the med bay,” Pixal requested with a smile. Divine intervention or not, five-sixths of the Ninja team knows how to hide a serious injury, and she had to be certain. Cole, who looked shopped, resigned himself and walked with Pixal o the medical centre. For now, she trusted that Zane was doing all the scans that he could to make sure that Lloyd was right in the head, and sought out to take care of her own, albeit selfish, worries.

Scanning Cole on both sides, Pixal noticed a particular bad bruise on Cole’s spine. Yet falling from that height and the fact that Cole isn’t paralysed due to spinal injury made Pixal reaffirm her theories that the First Spinjitsu Master was alive, just in another realm.

“You know, Lloyd might have actually seen the First Spinjitsu Master,” Pixal began, which led Cole to choke on the water he was ordered to drink. “No way, he must have just hit his head hard…”

“I’m sorry Cole, but the injuries you have is comparable to sleeping on a rock hard bed for one night, not falling from a height of 500m, even if your fall was broken by the Oni cloud, you should still have been paralysed,” Pixal explained.

“So God is real and Lloyd’s sharing a fourth of his blood? Neat! Next time tell him to not scare us with a fake-out,” Cole brushed it off.

At this time Pixal was about the shutdown and delve deep into theorising. Lloyd technically had a fourth of his grandfather’s blood and possessed the same power, could he possible have powers that control life and death-

Yet, she watched as a steady stream of Ninja enter the medbay, and resolved her thoughts to her inner GPU. She can think later. For now, she had to make sure that everyone is okay, and everyone will be okay. Even if she threatens Loyd to shave his head so she can get a better look at his skull, to which a chase around the monastery ensued. Her family was alright for now, and the concerning mortality of humans was left deep in the recesses of her mind.

- Zane - Too soon, Pixal had to face her own mortality. Being a Nindroid, her lifespan would naturally be much longer than a Ninja’s. But she still could be erased, dismantled, destroyed, sent to another realm-

The days waiting for the group of 6, not 5, to come back were some of the hardest. Even though all Pixal wanted to do was to shut down, lie on her bed and stare into the picture they had taken on their first date, Pixal knew that the team was entrusting her to keep Ninjago safe. Even if it means recapturing escaped convicts. Even if it means fighting the… undead-dead Preeminent (Pixal still hasn’t figured out how she worked). And they had to find ways to reach the Never Realm, by going through different infusions of travellers tea.

Yet, all the waiting and longing was worth it. Pixal prefers a Zane stuck in another realm for 40 years as to no Zane. There was no other choice. Yet, as she sees her loved ones trudging out of the frosty realm, some of them had worst frost bites than others. Even though all Pixal wanted to do was to smother Zane in a hug, she can see the edges of Lloyd’s skin turning a deep, dark black. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Nya taking care of Cole whilst Jay and Kai attempt to remove the ice from everyone else, including lubricating Zane’s frosted joins. She had not a single moment to lose. This kind of frostbite was not exactly lethal immediately, but losing limbs could mean the end of Lloyd’s ninja career. So calling everyone to attention, she went all in to salvaging Lloyd’s limbs, doing everything she could.

Later that night, Pixal spotted Zane wandering around the outskirts of the monastery whilst the Ninja finish up dinner. She watched as Zane’s hands gripped the staff so tight that the wood would be snapping in 3…2…1.

A harsh crack and splinters flying out later, Pixal could see the shaking in Zane’s hands as he cursed, something that the Zane she knew never would.

For her, it had been a hellish week. But for Zane? It must have been a hellish 40 years.

“…Zane?” Pixal called out from the monastery doors. Zane immediately whipped around before pointing the tip of the staff towards her, to which Pixal reflectively grabbed. Zane, eyes widening in shock and horror, immediately released his grip on the now shorter staff, before turning around, trying to run away. Pixal won’t let that happen.

“Zane,” Pixal said once again, hand now gripping onto the collar of Zane’s Gi. “Please don’t run away from me.”

Zane, froze, hands twitching before dropping them to his side. Pixal released her grip before tapping Zane on the shoulder, asking him to turn around.

“Pixal, I’m- I’m sorry…I just can’t- I can’t trust myself right now,” Zane vented out hands fidgeting with each other. Pixal smiled sadly. She knew that not everything could go back to normal so fast, but still, she had hoped that it would have been easier than this. “If you don’t trust yourself right now, why not spend some time with me?”

“Pixal- I…I could hurt you-“ “Yes you can, but don’t think that I can’t protect myself,” Pixal snapped back whilst carefully reaching to hold Zane’s hands. Once she made contact, Zane flinched back, before slowly reciprocating the action. “C’mon Zane, let’s go back into the monastery-“

“No!” Zane protested, wrenching Pixal back. Pixal clasped her other hand on top of Zane’s. “Not to the dining room. I’m thinking med bay.”

Pixal could see Zane’s processing unit cycle through his thoughts, noticing that it had considerable frost damage. Before long, Zane nodded his head, allowing Pixal to pull him into the light.

Opening the cupboards, Pixal took out a few rolls of bandages before carefully wrapping them around Zane’s hands. The ice ninja watched with curiosity as Pixal carefully finished tying and tightening the strips of cloth.

“Why are you doing this? You and I both know that Nindroids don’t need bandages,” Zane asked. Pixal smiled, looking at Zane’s now steadier hands. “Maybe bandages can’t fix our metal skin, but it still makes us feel better.”

Zane paused, looking down at his hands. “I don’t know how you’re right PIx, but they do make me feel more sure that my powers won’t hurt anyone accidentally. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get back to dinner, we have some desserts to bring out.”

Bandages. As much as PIxal uses them and finds them efficient, she can’t help but hope that team doesn’t need to use as many. But this time, t’s just a trip to a legendary city full of peace and prosperity. Maybe this time, Pixal doesn’t need to bandage their wounds away.

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

Text

A Virus for the Vicar

Guess what... I inspired myself with this post to write my first drabble! Also, this had to be written because @gr0ss-enby asked so nicely, and @oh-no-my-hand-slipped had such awesome sickly Victorian prompts. So, here’s ~3000 words of a flu-ridden, regency-era clergyman.

Feedback welcome! But please be a little gentle. This is my first short fic, as short isn’t usually my jam. But maybe it will be going forward, as I had a lot of fun with this one.

*****

Lydia Lennox sat darning her husband’s stockings in the sitting room, humming idly as she stitched. She was startled out of her reverie by a commotion on the stairs. It seemed her husband, the vicar, was coming down in a rush. As this was usually the hour he usually closed himself away in his study to prepare his sermon, she was concerned. She rose to see what was the matter, but he appeared in the doorway just then, buttoning his coat with one hand as he held a handkerchief to his streaming nose.

“Mrs. Ames is being buried today. I must go perform the service,” he said with a sniffle. “I shut my eyes but a moment in my study and it seems I fell asleep, and now I am behind my time. I must dash.”

She bit her lip as she looked outside at the chillyA, drenching rain that had been falling for days. She knew he would not be dissuaded from going, despite the dreadful cold he had picked up, so she refrained from voicing her concern. He would only become frustrated if she tried to stop him. After all, burials were part of his duty as a clergyman.

“Do take care, Mr. Lennox. Come back as quick as you can. I’ll have tea waiting for you.” She forced herself to leave it at that.

His only reply was a sharp nod and a grunt as he strode to the door. He pulled it quickly open, then shut again, taking himself, hoarse voice and chapped nose and all, out into the downpour.

Lydia seated herself again with a sigh and resumed her mending, spending some time musing about her husband of 5 years. If one were to meet the vicar by chance, or only saw him on Sundays when he preached, that person would think him a stern man, or even a harsh one. It was true that he held himself to the strictest standards as a member of the clergy, and that carried into his interactions with everyone he met. He could be severe and intractable when he was in one of his moods, expecting perfection from himself and everyone else. There were times his eyes burned with such fire when he was preaching that she herself was a little fearful of him.

Yet she also saw the tenderness in every inch of his frame when he baptized an infant, or blessed a child, or took the hand of an elderly person to greet them. She got to witness firsthand his serenity as he tended his garden, his boyishness when he was spending time with his brother, and his gentleness and devotion during their own intimate interactions.

He often seemed fierce, keeping most people, including herself at times, at arm’s length in deference to his duty as a man of the church, always mindful of how he might be perceived by his parishioners. Yet she knew there was more to him, and she loved him passionately, for all his own fiery passion for righteousness and zeal for his duty.

~~~~~~~~~~

Some hours later, the door banged open, and the steady patter of water dripping off of a coat onto the floor of the foyer heralded the vicar’s return. That, and a thick, wet sneeze.

“HET’kiihh’shuuh! HET’chooff! “HEHHHT-CHOOO!”

She rang for the tea she had prepared for him, then hurried to his side, blessing him in earnest as she helped him remove his sodden coat. His hair and clothes hung limply on him, and he stood dejectedly, trying to wring himself out, his handkerchief again pressed to his nose.

“Oh, my dear! Go quickly and put on some dry things. I’ll have your tea brought up to you there. You look half-frozen.”

“That I am,” he croaked wearily. “And half drowned at that. Never saw such a muddy burial. But the good woman is laid to rest as she should be, and that’s what matters.”

“Indeed,” she said, refraining from sighing. “But now go and tend to yourself, for that is what is called for here.”

“As you say,” he grunted. “I’ll be back down in time for supper, but for now I’ll go to my study. I need to catch up on my reading. The whole day is nearly gone as it is.”

“Couldn’t you take some rest? I’m sure the reading could wait another day.”

“There’s no need for it to wait when I can do it now just the same. As I said, I’ll be down for supper.”

He shuffled wearily to the stairs, coughing wetly as he went.

Once again she bit her tongue and said nothing further. When his mind was made up, there was no arguing with him. So, she went about the usual dinner preparations, fretting the whole time, and all the more so every time she heard him cough or sneeze, which was not infrequently.

Always true to his word, he reemerged 5 minutes before supper was to be laid out, looking drier but otherwise no better. He shivered faintly in the temperate air, wiping wetness away from his eyes and upper lip. She wished she could go hug him, and offer him any and every comfort she could, for he looked miserable, but she knew he would not allow it. She kept her eyes averted for the most part and tried not to fuss, for he would be quite embarrassed if she did. When the food was laid out, they seated themselves. They bowed their heads and he said grace as he usually did, though his voice was jarringly different. His usually rich, mellow tone was husky and strained, his consonants dulled with congestion and fatigue. Even before the final hoarse “ambend,” she wanted to reach for his hand and squeeze it, and tell him it was fine to not be fine. That he wasn’t any less even though he felt unwell. That she was here for him, no matter what.

The meal was a quiet one, aside from his stifled sneezes and soft coughs. After one particularly harsh stifle, she timidly looked up at him.

“You sound unwell, my dear. Is there anything I could get for you?”

“No,” he shot back quickly, averting his eyes and stuffing his handkerchief out of sight. “No, I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit under the weather is all.”

“Please do let me know if there’s any way I can be of help to you,” she bravely tried once more. He fidgeted with his fork, still turned away.

“You are always a help to me, dear. But I am in need of nothing just now.”

She quickly nodded, then let her own eyes drop to her plate. They ate in silence until they were finished, then retired to the sitting room, he with a book and she with her needlework. This is how they ended their evenings, in companionable silence or quiet conversation until they went to bed. Tonight though, she knew there would be no conversation. They had both perched on the settee, only a few feet apart, and she quenched the urge to close the distance between them and rub his shoulders and neck. He allowed minimal physical contact between them anywhere besides their bedroom. The servants were watching, after all.

As she sewed, she watched him in her periphery. He looked to be absorbed in his book, but through the entire hour they sat, he did not turn a single page. She studied his profile fondly, if also worriedly: His long longs, stretched out, but limp with weariness, his fine brow, now clammy-looking, his deep eyes, hazy with illness, and his well-shaped nose, the tip of it red and glistening. Every line of him spoke of fatigue. As she watched, she saw his eyelids drooping even as he fought against it.

She knew he would not go to bed before she, no matter how tired and ill he felt. It was improper. So, she feigned fatigue herself, yawning softly and stretching, before announcing she wanted to retire, almost an hour earlier than usual.

He looked startled, but grateful as he offered to accompany her, and of course she accepted.

They made their way upstairs, and he seemed to be moving almost in a daze. As they prepared for bed, his fingers were clumsy, and he was hampered by having to tend to his constantly dripping nose. She hovered at his elbow as he went through the motions, silently imploring him to admit how he was feeling and allow her to assist. Of course, he did not.

Once they were both in their night clothes, she watched him as he lingered, sitting on the edge of the bed and blowing his nose. She perched at his side so their knees touched; he shifted his away.

"You look quite ill, my dear. Pray tell, how can I help you?" She began to gently caress his back, a gesture she knew he loved when he was weary.

Yet he twitched away from her touch, a flash of anger in his eyes.

"Leave me be! I'm alright. I’m only in need of a good night’s sleep."

With a huff he yanked back the bed clothes and proceeded to cover himself with them, keeping his back to her whenever he could.

Now she was frustrated too. With a scowl she moved to her own side of the bed.

"Your stubbornness will be the death of you, Nicholas Lennox. Just because you're miserable, you needn't make me so as well, when I'm only wanting to help. But have it your own way."

He did not reply, and continued to keep his back to her. She turned away from him as well when she lay down. They both held themselves stiffly still, as far apart on the bed as they could be, until they fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

This was not the case when they woke, however. Upon opening her eyes the next morning, Lydia found she had rolled onto her back as she slept. Looking around as she roused herself, she was startled to find her husband still fast asleep beside her. Usually it was his stirring that woke her each day, or the sound of the door shutting behind him as he left.

Nicholas too had shifted in his sleep, and was lying on his stomach, his face toward her, his arm stretched across the center of the bed and resting an inch from her shoulder, as if he was reaching for her.

Any hard feelings that lingered from the night before instantly melted as she watched him sleep. He looked so pitiful and pale, and she heard his breath wheezing in his chest. As she stared, deciding what to do, he suddenly twitched once, then again, then he sprang awake, pressing a hand to his nose, but too late:

"Hehhgg'CHOOOF!" A wet, spraying sneeze exploded out of him, down the front of his shirt. He scrabbled desperately for his handkerchief, his breath hitching for another sneeze as he turned away from her. He couldn't grasp it in time.

"Hih-KIHT-chuuhh! Heht'kih'SHOO!" He sneezed miserably into his elbow, rough sneezes that seemed to scrape his throat harshly as they were expelled. He grabbed his handkerchief at last in a defeated sort of way, and wiped and blew his nose. With a weary groan he fell back against his pillow, throwing an arm over his eyes.

She watched this whole performance with widened eyes. All the years they'd been married, she had never seen him ill like this. She observed him for another moment, then nodded to herself, her mind made up. Regardless of how he would fuss, she was making him rest today, no matter what it took. She opened her mouth to address him when he again jerked forward, breath hitching desperately, handkerchief over his mouth:

"Hiihh'shieww! Hnnxxt'CHUUF! AhKT-CHOOOO! Oh blast it all," he mumbled thickly, the closest he ever came to cursing. He gingerly wiped his poor, red nose, eyes scrunched closed in pain. Yet he would have no rest, for he immediately began to cough.

She crossed the distance between them on the bed to put a hand to his shoulder. He jumped in fright, as though he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. Upon seeing it was her, he relaxed slightly, and didn't pull away, but acknowledged her with a little grunt. Encouraged by this, she pressed against his side and began to rub his back tenderly. He groaned softly in pleasure as she did, letting more of his weight rest against her. After a moment he had to hunch forward to stifle another hoarse coughing fit into his arm before leaning back into her touch, rubbing his chest with a grimace.

He was overwarm. She could feel the heat through his shirt. She pressed her palm to his forehead, then his cheek, clucking her tongue softly.

"I am most poorly today. Every inch of me aches or burns. My head pounds so, I can hardly think," he muttered, answering her question before she had to ask it.

"I shouldn't wonder, with how high your fever is. You're not to leave these rooms today and I'll not hear any argument."

"As you say," he mumbled with a cough.

She wanted to be suspicious of his unexpected pliability, but looking at him, she only saw misery in every feature, so perhaps he was simply feeling badly enough not to complain.

She pressed a kiss to his hot temple. "Lay yourself back down and rest while I dress, then we'll see what we can do for you. We'll ring for tea, for starters." She rose, donning her dressing gown. "And I may have Dr. Barcliffe call 'round as well. I don't like the sound of that cough one bit," she said, as he erupted into another hoarse fit.

"There's no need to involve Dr. Barcliffe," he croaked, lying back down with a wince, rubbing his chest again. "I shouldn't want to be a bother."

"Hm," she murmured, moving to his side. She brushed the sweaty hair from his forehead, and he sighed in pleasure at her touch, his eyes drifting closed. "We'll see how it goes. But I shouldn't think tending to the vicar would be a bother to the doctor."

If he heard, he did not reply, and seemed to fall asleep again immediately. She dressed efficiently, and just as she finished, one of the servants arrived with a tray of tea and toast. The commotion roused the sick man, and he shook himself awake with another bout of hacking coughs as the servant departed. Lydia moved to his side and rubbed his back again. He leaned his head into her side wearily as he quieted.

"Poor man, I've never seen you so ill. It seems you've picked up something nasty--likely from your niece and nephew last week. I thought they were looking a bit peaky, and there you were, rolling around on the floor with them."

A muffled grunt was his only reply. She served his tea, and helped him sit up to drink it, though he tried to protest.

"I'd rather not take tea now. I only want to sleep some more hours yet."

"You must drink aplenty today. You'll only feel worse if you don't. We can't have you getting parched."

He mumbled a few more weak arguments, but when she pressed the streaming cup into his hands, he obediently drank. Of course, the hot beverage made his nose run in earnest, but he seemed too weary to care. She plied him with toast also, but he only managed a few bites, claiming his throat was too raw and painful to eat any more. With a sigh, she set it aside.

He was visibly trembling as he finished the tea, and the hectic red spots showed ever brighter on his cheeks. She assisted him in lying down once more, and covered him warmly, though they were slowed in the process by yet another coughing fit. She let her hand linger on his arm after he was settled.

"Is there anything else you want, my dear?"

He turned to look at her, his fever-hazed eyes imploring:

"Only to rest a while, with you by my side."

She tilted her head in confusion. "You-you're asking me to sit with you while you sleep?"

He nodded. "I'll sleep better if you're near. Would you come sit beside me, just here on the bed?"

"That I will," she complied willingly, flattered as well as flustered. She would never have expected such a request from her independent, private husband. She hopped up to sit beside him, arranging herself comfortably. She reached out to cover his hand with her own.

"If I could trouble you for one more thing… could I lay my head just there?" He gestured to her lap.

She reddened. "If you think it would help you sleep, I shan't say no. For you do look so miserable, after all," she managed.

"Nothing would help more." They carefully rearranged themselves to his desired configuration. Lydia was quite taken aback by these developments, though they were far from unpleasant. She studied her husband's still form for a bit, making up her mind as he continued to settle. Haltingly, she moved her hand to his head and began to stroke his hair with the lightest touch. His free hand found hers and gave it a grateful squeeze. Encouraged, she continued her ministrations with confidence.

"You're positively trembling with chills," she murmured, almost to herself. "After you rest a while, I'll have Hannah draw you a hot bath. Then a compress for your chest after a long soak I think. How does that suit you?"

A snore was the only reply she would receive, for the dear vicar was already sound asleep.

#snzblr #snzfic #snzario #Sickness #sicknario #sickfic #a touch-starved sickie ❤❤❤#nothing is hotter than sick old-fashioned gentlemen #my ocs

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creepypastaxmales · 3 years

Text

Masky x GN!Reader

Warning: suggestive content/mentions of violence & angst Words: 1,388

Silence filled your ears as you gazed distantly at the tiled wall. You felt heavy, the bath water having went cold a while ago. You couldn't stop the tears that dripped down your face, hopelessness and despair filling up your being.

Life seemed to be getting harder and harder by the day, you longed to turn back the clocks. Rewrite the wrongs.

But you couldn't, you can't go back and stop yourself leaving no matter how much your heart ached at the thought.

At one point you had really believed you would be together, forever. You shook your head and let out more of a wheeze than a chuckle. You couldn't have stayed, he would've killed you without even a second thought.

Your mind couldn't help but wonder back to when it was all fine, when the world was right. You shook your head, water droplets flying around and your strands sticking to your face. He was a murderer, it had never been fine.

More tears fell, you could remember when he'd hold you like he'd never let go. You couldn't help but wonder if it had been something you had said? Maybe something you had done?

You pushed those thoughts away, he was the one who had regrets being with you. Not you. You hadn't regretted a minute of being by his side, you craved his touch. Even still after so many years.

You almost leaped out of the tub, loud banging coming from your front door. Your eyes widened, everytime someone knocked on that stupid door your heart would pick up. You felt like an idiot, still waiting for him like some obidient puppy.

Except he had all but dropped you off at some shelter without even a goodbye, you had known towards the end that it was finishing. Yet you had buried your head, plugged your ears and refused to acknowledge what was happening around you.

He had became so distant, to the point where you'd almost burst into tears of joy when he even bothered to show up. The fact he went months without a word from you should've been a hint but you had loved him so much, you were blindsided and then like that it all disappeared.

You could still hear his angry words buzzing in the back of your mind like a virus that contaminated every inch of your body.

"I never loved you."

Those words still cut as deep, stuck on your mind like a broken record player. The banging on the door got louder and you begrudgingly got out of the bath water, the cold air not bothering you.

You couldn't help but wonder who the hell was currently trying to break your door down. Your mind concocted a scenario in which it was him, your Masky breaking down the door. There to take you away forever.

You glanced in the mirror, flinching at your reflection. Your hair looked dull and on the verge of snapping, deep purple bags around your eyes and your skin was ungodly pale.

Your eyes were red with the tears you had previously been shedding, you unlocked the door and opened it.

You looked at the older woman, her face full of wrinkles yet her smile was youthful. You couldn't stop the small smile that graced your face.

"Hello (Name), I brought you some food over. It's your favourite." You smiled at her the best you could, she gave you a sympathetic look. "Thanks gran, I appreciate it." She had sort of adopted you the moment you had walked through the door, she always went out of her way to make sure you had taken care of yourself.

"I didn't interrupt did it?" You knew she didn't really care, this was her way of making sure you weren't lying dead in the middle of your apartment.

You shook your head and made small talk with her before she left, after closing the door you fell down against it. Your body shook and you couldn't help but let the sobs out.

You couldn't help it, the food reminded you of the time Masky had almost poisoned you. He hadn't meant it, he had meant well at the time.

You tugged on your lip, feeling exhausted after crying so much. You shook your head, you'd be fine tomorrow. Everything would be fine.

You needed to get back out there, you couldn't keep letting yourself go through this. You deserved to move on, to find someone who really did love you.

But Masky's face had been permanently etched into your memory, he was burned into every inch of your body. Part of you wished you could see him at least one last time, but you knew if you saw him you probably wouldn't be able to let go again.

You looked at the clock down the hall, eyes widening. You had been in the bath for three hours, it was 10 O'clock at night. You bit your lip, it was a Saturday.

Before you had a chance to talk yourself out of it you quickly got up, making your way to the kitchen to put the food away. You'd get drunk a lot quicker if you didn't eat.

——————

You were currently leaning against a wall while heaving your guts up, you were incredibly intoxicated almost stupidly so. But you felt happy, despite the burning in your throat. The alcohol had clouded your mind, Masky having been long forgotten.

You stumbled back from the wall, wiping any left over throw up off your mouth. You giggled, you were going to feel horrible tomorrow.

You swayed side to side as you carried on your way home. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing out here?" You turned around to the owner of the voice, your eyes widening. It wasn't him but he looked so much like him, you bit your lip.

"Pretty lonely." You sent him a drunk grin, mind not bothering to process the situation or the potential danger that possibly could come your way.

Masky had entered your mind again and you found yourself wishing he would leave it forever. The man grinned, walking over to you. "Oh?" He wasn't much older than you, mentally you shrugged. "Keep me company?" Your words were horribly slurred, before you could blink he had you pressed up against the wall.

The warmth his body gave off was almost scorching, you wanted more. You wanted warmth, another body against your own, you just really wanted to feel love again.

When he pressed his lips to yours you couldn't help but reciprocate, his hands gripped your hips and pressed you into the wall. The taller man easily lifted you up and wrapped your legs around him, taking a moment to suck dark bruises into your neck.

It didn't feel good, not like when he was the one bruising you up. You moved, trying to readjust yourself for comfort. Your head shot up, noticing two figures walking towards you.

You tried to get the man's attention but he seemed to caught up in you, you knew the figures had seen you. Your face flushed in anger and put all your effort into detaching from the stranger, shoving him away.

"I said fucking stop." You growled at the man, a scowl etched into your features. The man pouted. "C'mon baby." His hands reattached to your hips and you slapped them away, backing up from him.

Your eyes widened, it seemed like everything was happening in slow motion. One of the figures had slammed a pipe into the man's head, you quickly backed up.

"(Name)?" A deep, rough voice called out, you knew that voice better than your own. You shook your head, this was just cruel. Not bothering to respond you quickly ran, feet slamming against the pavement.

You needed to get away, you couldn't see him. Even if you had wanted to it seemed as if your body didn't, you were running faster than you ever had.

#Masky #marble hornets #Marble hornets x reader #Masky x reader #Angst #It's that time of night yeno wagwan #Ik mh isn't crp but yeah #Creepypasta #Creepypasta x reader

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sychjelly · 3 years

Text

-‘๑’- excerpt 01

彡 From ‟ born from stone, she was a flower in the night ”.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He can still clearly recall her features and accurately retell them, remembering even to the slightest details like the scar she had on her thigh, obtained through a nasty scuffle with the other gods. She donned a beautiful white gown with golden cranes embroidered in the silk, golden flowers lining the edges and sleeves. On her head would lie a stunning glaze lily, its colors always so vivid and alive despite being removed from its soil.

Her silky white hair was kept up by a delicate golden pin that bore the design of a majestic dragon, accompanied by the many gold accessories that lay in her hair like petals from a cherry tree. Everytime she opened her eyes would be comparable to seeing the ocean, so carefree and livid, full of new things to explore and see. But her eyes had always carried sadness within them, and back then, he had been too young to understand.

Or perhaps he was too naïve instead.

She had the ability to glance into the future, and while she didn't have the strength and willpower of Morax, she would do everything she can to prevent a tragic end, even as to go as far as to beg another god for help. Yet she couldn't prevent the most tragic end of all.

Her own demise.

He can still remember it. Remember everything that happened. Remember the day he had lost her to the corruption.

It wasn't a sudden thing - and he wished that it had been instead, hoped that it would have been short termed. The corruption turned those infected into monsters, beings with no mind nor no emotion. They harbored the cruelest, most ruthless creatures there ever existed, infecting their once pure minds like a plague. It wasn't contagious, as if the virus had a mind of its own, always going for something far stronger than its current host.

It was a parasite.

A parasite that could infect the Gods, but it had been their job to seal away those bad spirits that had been exposed to it. Or even seal the parasite entirely, of which Morax had done and has continued till this day.

He still remembers the day when she had come to him, a gentle smile on her face as they embraced. As they pulled away, he could see the bittersweetness in her clear blue eyes with a strange sense of forewarning. But she didn't warn him of anything, rather, she had told him to promise her something.

"If I ever do get corrupted, please have mercy on my soul and kill me."

He had been shocked to hear that. Completely shocked to the bone.

"I will protect you. I won't let you get infected." He had protested, but all she did was shake her head. Those eyes bore the pain of experience - but of what, he didn't know.

"Please, Morax. It would do us no good if I live as a corrupt being." She continued to plead, her voice shaky.

Not wanting to continue on such an unbearable topic any further, all he could do was nod and promise her her wish. Unknowingly, he had promised her a promise that he'd regret for the rest of his life, for he only thought that the corruption would never reach her soul.

He was wrong to think she would be spared from such a plague.

Decades passed smoothly with no obstacle, until that fateful day came knocking at his door.

It was the middle of the night, where the moon was at its highest, that he heard a loud cry for help in the valleys of Liyue. He had none to do, and decided to investigate. The plea of a commoner that had wandered into the Adepti's territory, he had thought naïvely, but he hadn't expected it to be the plea of a human for a god to save another.

There she lay, shadowed in darkness, cloaked in a black that wasn't her own. It stained her clothes, spread across her body like a plague, corrupting her body and soul with every passing second, the darkness consuming her whole. Only then he truly felt fear - the fear of loss.

How she had been infected, he did not know. But he knew something. He had to help.

He had rushed to her aid, his arms embracing her body as she writhed in his grasp, the darkness gnawing at her skin and bones. Yet her eyes, her eyes still kept the same crystal blue that had always met his with such fondness. Though he knows, he knows that same pureness wouldn't last.

"You promised me something, Morax." She had said to him in his arms, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. Despite that, her gaze was solid and strong, her eyes piercing through his own with such intensity. He can recall, he knows what she's referring to, but he cannot bear to think of it.

"Guizhong… please, I cannot-" He had begun, but quickly fell short of his words when he couldn't find anything to say. Nothing but worry clouded his eyes, and he found himself backed into a corner for the very first time. He'd do something - anything - but he well knew that once the corruption had its firm hold on someone, it would not let go.

If she had told him before, showed him her corrupted wounds…

Tears stung his eyes like needles.

"It would be better. For all of us." Her hand rose to caress his cheek, a gentle smile spreading across her features. Her smile was a smile like none other, full of warmth and love for him. It was genuine, real… real. But it was short-lived for she succumbed to a fit of messy coughs right after, dark red mixed with hideous shades of purple splattering onto the ground below them.

He couldn't move. Couldn't think.

"I can't let you go… not like this." Was all he could muster, teeth gritting in regret as he felt her body grow colder. He had desperately cast a sealing spell in hopes of stopping the parasite or perhaps even seal it entirely, but the magic in his palm faded whenever he tried.

She was too far infected to cure, but he didn't let himself come to that conclusion.

"There has to be some way. There has to be." His voice cracked with heartbreak as he continued to try everything he could think of, going so far as to cast the most complicated spells at the risk of his own strength. Everything failed, and all Guizhong could do was look on silently as his efforts took no root.

"It won't be long, Morax." Her voice became raspy, rough from the coughs that erupted from her chest. He could hear her lungs wheeze in effort everytime she spoke, and he could feel his heart shatter all the more. The corruption had begun making its way over to her face, infecting her pale cheeks with a dark shade of devilish purple.

"Guizhong, please, stay with me." His own voice had turned into a meek one, like a child going to their parents after a horrible nightmare. He lay his hand on her chest and rested his head on hers, his eyes shut tight with heartache. Her hand gently caressed over his, their slim fingers intertwining.

"When I turn, I will no longer be Guizhong." She had whispered in such a quiet voice, her once blue eyes heavy with tiredness. The pain fizzled in her body like electricity, and she found herself losing her feelings in her limbs. All she could do was lift her free hand slowly, up to caress Morax's scarred cheek.

"I know that." He'd murmured, biting back his tears, hand squeezing hers with such desperation. He couldn't cry now. He didn't want her last image of him to be one of tears.

"Then you of all people, should know what must be done."

He could feel his nose turn sour. And he felt something cold roll down his cheeks. He knows what it is, feels what it is, but he doesn't hold back - the emotional pain was like a wave, crashing onto him with such force and sheer impact.

"But you're still you. Please, Guizhong. Stay with me." He pleads, his heart cracking with heartache. Every part of him was pitiful, and he was supposed to be a god of stone. Yet he was shattering, breaking into a million pieces before a Goddess that had failed her own people.

"Time is not on our side, Morax." She'd urged him once more, her own hand squeezing his. She smiled sadly, leaning closer into his chest. Tears soaked into his robe, and he realised that it wasn't just his own. "Always remember that I will be by your side, no matter what happens… even after my mortal vessel expires."

She gave him the brightest smile as she spoke, and he burned that smile into his brain for he knew it would be her last.

As she raised her head once more, her eyes flickered open with an aura of hostility, an unreadable look on her face. Her eyes were no longer the crystal blues they once were - now they harbored nothing but the effects of the corruption. They were purple, black slitted, and there was nothing but hatred and anger that flared within like a wildfire.

It was then Morax knew for good that she was gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ this post is just to kick start things. this is but a small excerpt of the 4k words i wrote while sleep deprived :D

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ anyway, hope you enjoyed, if you’d want to read the entire thing, link is here ✦ !

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin writing #fanfic #genshin fanfic #zhongli #guizhong #zhongli x guizhong #guili #reminisence #morax #angst #genshin angst

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blunderbots · 3 years

Text

(MUSIC FOR SCENE: Roller Mobster by Carpenter Brut)

They were ramming against the door, and even with Cubot putting his entire weight on the damn thing, it wasn’t doing as much good as they’d hoped. “HEY, ORBOT, WHAT’S THE–NGH–STATUS ON THE BOSS AND HIS NIECE??”

Orbot was in charge of managing info panels and organizing escape routes throughout the base, and his ears lifted up as Cubot shouted to him. “Still working on it– we have to secure the best possible route for the two of them to get out of here. By my calculations, assuming they got to the escape pods, they should be out of here soon!”

Dr Eggman and his niece, Eggette, were still by and large organic creatures, which left them immensely vulnerable to the Metal Virus. There would be time enough later to give the Boss a variation on I Told You So, as right now it was Orbot and Cubot’s job to make sure the damn thing didn’t reach either of those two. The Armadillo and the Labrador may have looked like Mobians, but they were unaffected by the Metal Virus, as they were completely synthetic. Robians weren’t susceptible to the metallic disease, and as such, they could be left behind to block their entry.

Not being affected by the disease did not mean that the Zombots couldn’t damage them severely, however, and from the various cuts in their uniforms and the sparking gash across Cubot’s right arm was telling enough of how dangerous these creatures were. Orbot gasped as he saw his partner straining to keep the door shut, multiple claws reaching around the slight opening—he immediately closed the distance, slamming his smaller frame against the door itself, pushing on it with both hands to aid his friend. Orbot may not have had the brute strength that Cubot did, but that wasn’t about to stop him.

“Nngh—! These things are— really bothersome!”

“YOU CAN SAY THAT AGAIN, PAL!”

“Remind me to recommend that the Boss go with Plan C next time!”

“HHEHEH–”

SLAM! The Zombots were combining their numbers, crashing their bodies against the door with more force than before, and better timed. Orbot was knocked back by the force of the impact, shaking out his wrists before he drew his weapon, “Cubot, this area is compromised, we need to get deeper into the Base!”

“B-BUT–!”

“Don’t waste time! Let’s go!” He slapped Cubot’s arm and immediately turned, racing towards the opposing hallway, as Cubot kicked off from the door and booked it after Orbot, running on all fours for a moment before balancing back on his two legs. The blunderbots dashed through the hall, alarms ringing around them as emergency lights bathed them in red. They could hear the door crash open, monstrous roaring and moaning filling the room they’d just exited.

“HOW’RE EGGY AND EGGATHA DOIN?” Cubot wheezed, drawing his laser pistol to match Orbot’s laser rifle. The armadillo checked his wrist-mounted pad, examining the hologram info window that popped up. “They’ve made good time. I have the all clear, here. They’ve cleared the base.”

“ALRIGHT! SO… THEN….?”

“We’re on our own, big guy!”

“YOU GO ON AHEAD, ORBOT, I’LL HANDLE THESE GUYS!”

Orbot grinned, his optics wide and somewhat manic looking. He slapped Cubot on the shoulder, “Not on your artificial life, Cubot. If you left me to be ripped apart by Zombots by myself, I’d haunt you.”

The Labrador let out a breathless guffaw, screeching to a halt and turning around to face the incoming onslaught, “OKAY, OKAY, BUT, YOU GOTTA PROMISE THAT WE AIN’T DONE HERE!”

“I make absolutely zero promises, you know that.” Orbot followed suit, pressing his back to Cubot’s, as he noticed the door ahead of them had Zombots pounding against it, too. Ah. “Any last words, old friend?”

“YEAH— I FRIGGIN HATE ZOMBIE MOVIES!!!!!!”

“You can say fuck, I won’t tell the Boss.”

With a loud crash, the Zombots broke through, snarling and reaching toward Orbot as the ones on Cubot’s side began to close the distance. Orbot and Cubot grinned at one another, took aim, and began to blast as many of the metallic monstrosities as they could. They knew that it wouldn’t do any meaningful damage, but they weren’t going to go down without a fight. There was nowhere to run, after all.

Hopefully when the Boss rebuilds them, he leaves out the gruesome nature of their dismantling at the hands of Zombots. No need to include that part in their memory, right?

#drabble ;;#they ded #IDW verse ;;#(my art #Two Birds on a Wire (Orbot and Cubot)#thank you warframe infestation survival mode for the inspiration

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weathergirl8 · 3 years

Text

Master of Deflection - Part 5

LOOK!!!! AN UPDATE!!

My muse has finally cooperated in small helpings and I was finally able to finish this chapter. Here's to hoping it continues. I don't need any more WIPs hanging out in the dark depths of my brain waiting for attention. Also, the dark part of my mind doesn't need any help.

This is for you @ak47stylegirl and anyone else who enjoys Alan whump/smothering. Of course, there will be some extra Virgil in there too, because I just love the big guy.

@misssquidtracy - LOOK SQUIDDY!! AN UPDATE!

@gumnut-logic - Not much Virg, but still Virg :)

@willow-salix - Some smothering John if you'd like (also no beta on this one, 'twas a late night impulse post)

As a friendly reminder, I originally came from the TOS and TB 2004 era. I’ve tried to write a few TAG point of views, but my comfort zone is the previous. This will take place with Gordon as the redhead, and Virgil as the middle bro. Sorry!

Summary: Being the youngest of five is always hard, especially when they pounce at the slightest hair out of line. Sometimes the art of deflection can sting.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John quietly pushed open the door to his youngest brother’s bedroom. Alan laid fast asleep under the strewn covers. The poor kid had clearly been restless. John laid the fresh glass of water on the nightstand and gently checked his baby brother’s forehead. Heat radiated from the eighteen year old’s skin, making the older blonde frown in concern. Pulling his hand away, he pushed a few stray strands of hair that stuck to Alan’s sweaty forehead.

The younger blonde began to stir, letting out a quiet moan as a cough erupted from him. John turned on the light from Alan’s ensuite and wet a washcloth. Returning to his baby brother’s side, John laid the cool cloth along his brother’s forehead.

Alan coughed once more and opened his eyes to the blurry figure leaning over him.

“Hey, Allie,” John smiled as Alan’s eyes slowly focused on him.

“Aww, man, Dad’s overreacting,” Alan groaned. “He pulled you from the station?”.

“Nice to see you too, Squirt,” John chuckled. “No, he didn’t pull me. Brains insisted I come down to give an extra hand while you’re laid up.”

Alan pushed himself up against his headboard, pulling the wet washcloth from his forehead. He reached for a kleenex to blow his nose. “It’ll be nice to have you around. Even if I am sick.”

“How are you feeling?” John asked as he handed his brother a glass of water.

Alan coughed as the water tickled his already irritated throat. “Like I’ve been hit by a bus.”

“You sound like it, kiddo. Anything I can do for you?” John asked as he took the water from Alan and laid it back on the nightstand. He didn’t like how congested Alan sounded. “Are you up to eating anything?”

Alan groaned at the thought of food as he let his head lean against his headboard. “Food doesn’t even sound appealing.”

“You’ve got to eat something, Allie. It’ll keep your strength up to fight this bug. How about some soup?”

“Okay, fine,” Alan agreed as he tried to move out of bed.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going? I’ll bring it to you. You stay here and rest,” John ordered as he pushed Alan back down.

“Okay,” Alan sighed, only causing another coughing fit to erupt. He moaned as he rubbed his chest.

“You okay?” John asked worriedly.

“Peachy,” Alan croaked. “Chest hurts a little. Can you ask Virgil where the humidifiers are? Maybe that’ll help me breathe.”

“Sure,” John smiled in sympathy. “Maybe he can give you something that’ll help with that cough too, along with the congestion.”

“Yea, maybe,” Alan said as he laid his aching head back against his pillow and pulled a blanket back over him as a sudden chill filled his achy body.

“I’ll be right back,” John said, heading for the door.

“Mmm,” Alan muttered and closed his eyes as John left the room.

John quickly made his way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, his eyes set on exactly what he was looking for. Kyrano’s homemade soup generally cured any sickness that filled the Island.

Grabbing a tray, John waited for the soup to warm in the microwave. His mind wandered to the day's events. To the rogue Captain and how close two of his brothers came to being hurt.

A beeping sound erupted from the microwave interrupting his thoughts. Turning, the astronaut heard the sound of whistling. John immediately recognized the tune and smiled as Virgil entered the kitchen.

“Hey, John,” the middle Tracy greeted. “How’s the adjustment to Earth? Feeling okay?”

“I’m all good,” John replied, taking the soup out of the microwave and placing it on the tray. “I’m not the one we need to worry about.”

“Alan?” Virgil asked, concerned.

“I just checked on the kid,” John sighed. “He agreed to try some soup, but he complained of his chest hurting and having trouble breathing. He wanted me to check with you for a humidifier. I think he thought it would help.”

Virgil frowned. “Try and see if you can get him to eat, and I’ll meet you in Alan’s room. I’m going to stop in the infirmary and grab a few things.”

“Okay,” John nodded and headed back toward his baby brother’s bedroom.

Entering Alan’s room, the older blonde smirked as he noticed Alan had fallen asleep once more. Turning on the light on Alan’s nightstand, John frowned at how pale his baby brother looked. Rubbing Alan’s arm, John noticed a bruise had formed along the younger astronaut’s arm. Exactly where Captain Stern’s had grabbed him. Anger filled the second oldest but quickly dissipated as Alan’s groggy eyes peered open. “Hey, kiddo. How about we try that soup?”

“Okay,” Alan croaked as he pushed himself up. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he nearly smacked his head against his headboard before John steadied him.

“You okay?” John asked with worry as he helped Alan lean against his headboard.

“I’m fine,” Alan reassured hoarsely, coughing once more. The eighteen year old rubbed his chest in discomfort. Looking down at the soup on the tray John laid in front of him, he smiled. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Sure is, Sprout. Let’s hope it does the trick!”

Alan took a couple of spoonfuls of Kryano’s soup while John rewet the washcloth. A chill shivered its way throughout his whole achy body. Grabbing a blanket from the floor, Alan wrapped it around his body. “This sucks,” he muttered to himself.

“I would have to agree with you,” Virgil grinned as he entered the room. “Lucky for you, I come with presents.”

Alan rolled his eyes as John laid the cold washcloth against the back of his neck. “How the heck can I be freezing, but my body on fire?” he grumbled.

“Let’s check that fever, shall we?” Virgil smirked as he ran the thermometer across his baby brother’s forehead. As the machine beeped, the medic’s smirk dropped.

John peered over Virgil’s shoulder as 101.2 shined across the device, causing both brothers to meet each other with an uneasy gaze. A deep cough erupted from the youngest Tracy, causing him to hold his chest as several coughs followed.

“Alan, does your chest hurt every time you cough?” Virgil asked as he grabbed his stethoscope.

“Just about,” the teen wheezed.

“Okay,” Virgil nodded. “Take a few deep breathes for me if you can.”

Alan did as his brother asked but was quickly overtaken by another coughing fit. “Easy, Allie,” Virgil coaxed, trying not to let his concern show. “I don’t like the sound of that cough. Let’s try another round of meds, and I’ll get the humidifier hooked up to help with your congestion.”

“Whatever you say,” Alan moaned as he closed his eyes and leaned his aching head against his headboard once more.

John looked at him with sympathy. “Do you want to try to eat any more soup?”

“No, I just want to sleep,” Alan said, as John took the tray away and he collapsed back against his bed.

“Get some more rest, Sprout. I’ll come back and check on you in a couple of hours to see how you’re doing,” Virgil said, handing Alan his meds.

The teen gladly took the meds as he watched his older brother start the humidifier, the vapor mist filling the room. “Thanks, Virg.”

“Don’t mention it,” Virgil smiled as he ruffled Alan’s hair. “If you need anything, just reach out, okay?”

“Mmm,” Alan mumbled as he closed his eyes once more.

Virgil turned off the lights and followed John into the hallway, closing Alan’s door behind him. “Should we be worried?” John asked as he turned to meet his closest older brother.

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck as he noted the time on his watch. “Viruses are quick-change artists, Johnny. You know this. I’m concerned about that cough and the discomfort in his chest. I’ll check on him in a couple of hours and decide whether we should start him on a round of antibiotics. I’m hoping his body will start to fight it before we get to that.”

John nodded in understanding, his knowledge of medicine filtering in. “Should I loop Dad in?”

Virgil smirked, recognizing John’s need to play communicator even on Earth. “No, not yet. He worries enough as it is. Let’s not give him another reason. I’m hoping to keep him out of Allie’s room as much as possible before he sets up camp. I don’t want to impose the caffeine restrictions unless absolutely necessary.”

John chuckled. Jeff’s consumption of caffeine was well known across the Island in stressful situations. Something Virgil and Jeff’s cardiologist were particularly strict about. “Agreed, let’s not poke the bear.”

“Well, it’s nearly midnight. We better get some sleep before the next mission interrupts us. I’ll be up in two hours to check on the kid,” Virgil said as he headed toward his room.

“Keep me updated, will you? Don’t worry about waking me.”

“F.A.B,” Virgil replied and entered his room. The medic couldn’t help but feel a sense of worry creep its way into his mind. All they could do was wait. After all, it was just a simple virus, right?

TBC...

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderfam #alan tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #my writing #part 5 #fanfic #writing

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doodleimprovement · 3 years

Text

AHIT Victorian AU :: Act 2 :: A Realization Long Overdue

Lord Arelius finally has a breakthrough while the girls are sick - though it does, frankly, take a figurative slap to the face.

This is a longer one, folks <3

He couldn’t focus.

God, he couldn’t focus for anything or anyone.

He had contracts to renegotiate, people to contact, *things to do*

But his heart had been in his throat since the morning, when he was woken by Cecilia, telling him the girls had horrid fevers.

The flu. They had the flu.

There had been a small burst of infections in town, several people rendered bedridden but no deaths.

But no children had been infected. Not until Beatriz and Harriet.

Doctor Buonacci had been called immediately, with the physician telling them that the best that could be done was mitigating their symptoms and letting the virus take its course.

It hadn’t been what he wanted to hear, but he knew that if anyone was going to be honest with him, it would be the good doctor.

He stared down at the letter he was composing, a renegotiation with the house of lords concerning something-or-other that his jumbled brain couldn’t focus on. He brushed his hair back for what must have been the 10th time, and he stood up from his desk, grumbling “Damn it all”

There was a knock on the door, and his head whipped up “Come in”

Morgan pushed the door open “Uh, afternoon, m’lord”

He forced his shoulders to relax, he was used to such a conscious decision “Good afternoon, Morgan. Is something going on?”

“Missus Carlile is askin’ for ya. She says she need y’r help”

The Lord’s brow furrowed “alright” he answered, quickly clearing the papers on his desk “Tell her I will be right with her. Is she in the kitchen?” Morgan nodded before leaving down the hall.

He huffed at her sheepishness around him. Vanessa had really left her mark on the girl.

Putting his coat back on as he walked into the hall, a part of him wanted to veer left at the fork to check on the girls, but he resisted that want - an easy task that made him feel guilty - and walked right over to the kitchen’s side entrance.

“Cecilia?” He voiced as he opened the door, seeing her toiling over a pot of soup - the aroma alone making him feel sleepy and calm.

“Ah, there ya are!” She pointed her spoon at him “I need you to help me bring the girls somethin’ light to eat. The broth from this soup should be good for ‘em” She explained “Doc Bonnie said that addin’ pepper can help with their sinuses''

He smelled the slight spice in the air at her mention of it. “Harriet isn’t the biggest fan of pepper” he pointed out

“Which is why we’re not tellin’ her, and you’re helping me with it”

Well, he understood the logic there.

She filled two small bowls with the broth and handed one to him, along with a spoon

“M’lord, if I may..” Cecilia started

“As if i could ever stop you” he responded with a slight smirk. She smiled back.

“I know y’r worried about them” She continued “Morgan says you’re never sittin’ at your desk when she goes to you.”

“Well of course I’m worried” He argued “They’re just children. The flu is… well, it’s dangerous for everyone”

Cecilia gave him a knowing smile “Allow yourself the luxury of caring for them, Lord Lukas” She advised “You’ll feel better if you do”

A bit confused by her wise words, he didn’t get a chance to ask what she meant before she turned around and started for the double doors to the dining room - a more direct route to the girl’s room.

When they arrived, the only light was coming from half an open window. Harriet was half in-half out of the sheets, sleeping with her mouth open, a slight wheeze to her snore. Beatriz, meanwhile, was awake and staring at the ceiling, looking as if she hadn’t slept in days, despite the flu only hitting her this morning

“Hey there” Cecilia started, keeping her voice soft. Little Bow turned her head, raising her hand and waving a little bit. “How ya feeling?”

Bow’s expression - a slightly disgusted one - told the adults all they needed to know.

“Think you can drink some broth? You need to have somethin’ in your stomach. Doc Bonnie says its important” Cici explained “M’lord, can ye wake Harriet an’ see if she’ll have the broth?”

Lukas nodded, and placed the bowl on the side table, sitting carefully at the edge of the bed and cautiously reaching to her forehead, wiping her bangs away from her eyes. God, she was still burning up. He suppressed his worry once again, and quietly spoke

“Harriet? Can you wake up?” He requested, his hand going to her shoulder to shake her slightly.

She shifted, and stopped snoring, her eyes taking their time to open, she groaned a bit as she looked at him “Huh..?”

“Hello there, little fool” He brushed her hair back again “How are you feeling?”

She pouted, and responded with a pitiful whine, covering her eyes with her arm.

He chuckled a little “I know how that feels” he grabbed the broth “Are you able to sit up?”

Her eyes were watery, but she nodded and managed to sit up straight “M-m’cold…”

He frowned “I know you feel that way” He comforted, “Cecilia made you and Beatriz some warm broth to help” He glanced at Bow, watching Cici help Bow’s slightly shaking hands so that she didn’t spill.

He decided to copy her, and while Hattie still looked miserable, she did drink the broth. It spilled a bit, but he diligently used his kerchief to wipe her face.

“Does that feel better?” He asked, glancing at Bow, who was laying back down, and nodded at him. “Hattie?”

The girl just sniffled, leaning forward into his arm and groaning again. He chuckled just a little “I know, I know” he consoled, pulling her off and rubbing her arms “You’ll feel better soon”

She reached and grabbed his sleeve, tugging at it “C-can.. Stay..?”

He blinked “.. Stay?”

Bow turned on her side, looking half awake as Cici grabbed the now empty bowls. “... I’s lonely here” She admitted

The man blinked, his brain trying to catch up to the melty feeling going on in his chest.

Hattie’s hand gripped his sleeve a little tighter.

He took in a deep breath, and wiped at Hattie’s forehead again.

“I’ll be back” he told her, and watched as she let go of his sleeve, disappointment painting her features. “It’s okay.. I’ll be back”

He stood quickly, walking out of the room only to be stopped by Cici right outside the door, who was glaring at him with a disappointed frown.

“What are you doin’ Master Arelius?” She stared him down.

He didn’t respond at first, recalling what she’d said to him earlier

‘Give yourself the luxury of caring for them’

Well… He wasn’t getting any work done anyway.

“... Have my appointments cancelled” He announced to her, his head finally catching up to his heart.

“Shall I have Markus called in, Master?”

“... Yes”

She finally gives him a smile. “Hurry yourself then. Those girls need you”

Lukas nodded, determination set into his face and turning on his heel toward his own room.

He’d only be a minute

He returned to the girls room after a few minutes - seeing that Bow and Hattie were back to staring at the ceiling. A guilty feeling settling in his chest.

Enough, enough. You’re here now. Don’t linger on how long it took you.

He carefully came up to the side of the bed, Harriet catching his figure and looking up at him. She blinked tiredly, but reached out for him almost immediately.

Not hesitating, he reached back and pulled her up against him. Her feverish forehead pressed against his collarbone, and she let out a relieved sigh - his body running cold seeming to be a blessing for once.

Beatriz watched with some confusion in her eyes - she was seemingly much more aware than Harriet was.

Shifting Harriet over to one arm, he reached out to her with a questioning expression, keeping his voice calm and quiet.

“I’m not going anywhere”

That seemed to be exactly what she needed to hear, and she crawled herself out of the bed sheets and clung onto him like a koala, muttering a ‘thank you’ into his shirt as his arm when around her.

It took a little… finagling, but he eventually ended up in the middle of the bed, with Harriet on his right, and Beatriz on his left, the two girls curled up against him, Bow finally seeming relaxed enough to actually sleep. Harriet meanwhile, was about half awake, her breath wheezing slightly from her poor little respiratory system.

His hand gently rubbed her back “how are you feeling?” he whispered “Do you want some water?”

She shook her head, sniffling “..Why’r you here? Aren’t you- busy?” She asked, looking up at him with her tired eyes.

He let out a breath before answering “Because you and Bow need me” He answered succinctly “And you two are more important than a few letters and appointments. Those things can wait”

Her tired expression seemed surprised, but then it melted into an exhausted, but unmistakably happy smile as she readjusted herself to be more comfortable.

“Mmh… Mist’r Conners is right” She muttered, finally seeming to start to fall asleep. “Y’r a good papa..”

Just as her eyes closed, his heart stopped for a moment, before it started thudding in his chest.

Papa

Father. She said that he was a good… Father

His heart nearly overwhelmed him,and his vision blurred. He held the girls a little tighter

“.. Papa, huh?” he whispered, taking in a deep breath.

Those papers at the corner of his desk needed mailing as soon as they were recovered, then.

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letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked · 4 years

Text

Words On My Skin Chapter 30

Bucky Barnes X Reader (Soulmate AU)

A/N: I guess it takes a quarantine and deadly virus for me to start writing again, huh? LOL! TAGS WILL BE REBLOGGED ON THIS EVENTUALLY! I have like... a whole year of tag requests to sort through! So... Sorry LOL

Warnings: Be gentle... I’m rusty at writing lol

Main Masterlist // WOMS Masterlist

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

Y/n: I'm on my way back! Happy is driving me! I'll tell you the details when I get home! I got you a surprise! <3

Bucky: I'm in the room, doing paperwork. Steal one of Steve's granola bars for me, please and thank you and I love you.

Y/n: I'm not taking the fall again if he catches me!

Bucky: He's out with that one blonde chick we don't like.

Y/n: Ew. Why???

Bucky: Why do you think?

Y/n: Ew. She looks like she has crotch crickets. Plus she was a bitch to me last time she was here. I tried to be nice. I think she's in it for his fame... and the D.

Bucky: ...that's disgusting.

Y/n: I'm making him an appointment for an STD check.

Bucky: He's going to kill you.

Y/n: He'll thank me when his dick doesn't fall off

Bucky: He's going to make you do more cardio.

Y/n: ...Okay, yeah, I'll just let his dick fall off. LOL fuck cardio

Bucky: You seemed to enjoy last night's cardio. ;)

Y/n: That was more like naked yoga... with a happy ending! Totally different!

Bucky: We can do naked yoga anytime you want.

Y/n: I'll take naked yoga over cardio all day every day

Bucky: All day every day? ;)

Y/n: Shut up, fool. <3

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

Placing your phone back into your purse, you stared out the window, watching the busy streets blend into trees and snow. Stupid snow. You were lost in your own head, thinking about the meeting with your parents. Which had gone... surprisingly well.

Your mother was fairly civil to you - as well as the waitstaff - and your father actually had a serious conversation with you.

It was one of the weirdest days of your life... and you lived with a bunch of superheroes.

Seeing your parents like this, after so many years of loathing, arguing, controlling... You weren't sure where your relationship stood.

Though, it was nice to gain at least a little clarification and get everything out in the open.

They'd apologized for the way they treated you in your youth, as well as the way they treated Bucky. You'd apologized for all the shit you'd said to them before you'd moved away, as well as keeping them pushed away in your adult years. The excuses your mother had for acting like a controlling robot were just... sad. She talked about how your grandmother treated her the same - if not worse. She was the way she was because she wanted you to be better than her. No wonder you've never actually met your grandparents in person. Your mother hated her parents. Almost as much as you'd hated yours... until now.

Now... You just had sympathy. Not that it excused any of the behaviors over the years, but you understood now.

It seemed as if she'd convinced herself that the way that she raised you made you the positive person that you were, today. Which was true to some extent. It was recovering from the way you were raised that made you the person you were today. You may have been comfortable with money, but money wasn't everything behind closed doors. Money didn't solve the problems that you'd dealt with in your youth. In fact, it was living the stereotype of a rich family that had caused the majority of your problems. It was the cold, brash emotions modeled by your parents that made you want to be different. The controlled diets, the need to hide emotions and compartmentalize, the forced dating, the fights, the lying, the fake public image... it was dealing with those things after you'd escaped it that made you the person you are today.

Personal growth, and all that jazz.

After the emotional bit of the dinner, you'd actually enjoyed yourself. Your parents asked you about your job, the first day you met Bucky, college, your friends, and everything else they hadn't been a part of for the last decade or so.

They told you about their trip to Paris, where your mother had tripped over a crack in the pavement and they spent half the day in the emergency room so she could get stitches. They told you about how they got their entire office to donate a large sum of money to Bucky's charity that he had been running. They told you about the day that they realized that they needed a change of scenery from California.

It was almost... normal.

If you even knew what normal was.

"Y/n?" You heard Happy's muffled voice, followed by a light tapping on the cool window. He hadn't opened the car door, because your head was leaned against it. "You ready to rock and roll?"

"You're such a dad." You giggled, grabbing your purse and leftovers as he opened the door for you, "Speaking of dads, are you going to become Peter's step-"

"I DON'T-" He paused, taking a breath through his nose and blowing it out of his mouth, "I don't want to talk about that."

"Happy and Mae, sitting in a tree..." You sang, grinning as you skipped past him, "K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

"You're such a child." He rolled his eyes, slamming your door closed and walking to the driver's door.

"You love me, anyways." You pulled open the front door to the compound, leaving Happy to bring the car over to the garage.

You removed your coat the moment you stepped into the heated building, throwing it over your arm and hiding the bag of leftovers and Bucky's surprise. Glancing around, you saw the lobby was nearly empty, save for a few agents using the lobby to cut to the other wing.

Glancing over to the front desk, a grin spread over your face as you took in the sight in front of you.

Caleb was snoring loudly, mouth hanging open, head tipped back, and his feet up on the desk. The book you'd given him for his birthday was open, resting on his stomach like he had fallen asleep reading in his chair.

"FRIDAY, can you please do me a favor and record this please?" You whispered into your watch, sneaking over to the sleeping agent. "Send it to my tablet when it's done."

You were glad you wore flats instead of heels, so your shoes made no noise against the hard floors as you snuck behind the desk. You kept out of swinging distance, grabbing a clipboard off his desk and readying yourself for whatever happened.

"CALEB, WAKE UP!" You screamed loudly, slamming the clipboard repeatedly on the desk. "CALEB, THE SKY IS FALLING!"

He let out a loud shout, limbs flailing around, and chair tipping backwards. "I WASN'T SLEEPING." The obnoxious laugh you let out made his face scrunch up in confusion from the floor, "Y/n?" He glanced around, springing up gracefully and surveying the empty lobby before sending you a glare, "Rude."

You couldn't reply, leaning against the desk and tossing the clipboard in front of him, hysterical laughter echoing through the nearly-empty lobby. "I- You- Oh- Dying." You wheezed, trying to calm your laughter before you peed yourself, wiping the tears from under your eyes, "Oh my god."

"I'm glad my fear brings you such joy, you awful human being." Caleb grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair, "I hate you so much right now."

"I brought you dessert." You replied, finally able to pull your shit together, grabbing a box out of the big bag you were carrying. "It's chocolate and peanut butter cheesecake."

"I hate you less, now. You are forgiven." He lunged forward, a large smile on his face. "Gimme', gimme', gimme'."

You handed him the box, shaking your head and glancing at your watch, "I'm beat. I'm gunna' head up."

"Your soulmate is an asshole, by the way." Caleb informed you, mouth full of cheesecake, "He kept telling me he's going to get Claire an obscene amount of slime for Christmas." He glanced up at you with narrow eyes, "I'll hurt all of you if you get her slime, or anything else with loose glitter. My kitchen table is ruined."

"I cannot confirm nor deny that we got her slime for christmas." You shouted, jogging towards the elevator. "Love youuuuu."

"Fuck youuuuu." He sang back at you, as you disappeared from sight.

"My floor, please, FRIDAY." You requested as the doors to the elevator opened and you got in, "Is Bucky in his room?"

"Yes, Ma'am." FRIDAY replied.

Leaning against the wall, you inhaled deeply through your nose - trying to dispel any weird feelings in your gut. Ever since you'd left dinner with your parents, your shoulders felt lighter... but there was a sense of unease in your belly. You'd never expected in a million years that you'd actually have a relationship with your parents where they communicated with you in a semi-healthy way.

Was this real life?

Honestly, it felt like you were in a simulation or something.

Nothing felt normal anymore.

When the lift doors opened, a wave of delicious smells hit your nose - and you followed the scent to the kitchen, calling out, "Who's cooking delicious-smelling food?"

"That'd be me." Sam called, head in the fridge as he searched for something in the back, "Where the fuck did my strawberries go?"

"That'd be your not-so-little buddy Steve." You chuckled, watching as Sam glared at the fridge before moving back to the stove in a huff. It was actually Bucky, but you weren't about to snitch on your soulmate. "What are you making?"

"God dammit." He grumbled, stirring whatever was in the giant pot, "I'm getting a mini fridge in my room. This 'sharing' business is pissing me off."

"Sam. Food."

He turned to you with a grin, "Momma Wilson's famous lasagna soup."

"They make lasagna in soup form?" You frowned, walking over to the stove to inspect, confirming the fact that he had - indeed - made soup out of lasagna ingredients. It was confirmed by the broken-up lasagna noodles floating up to the surface, and the red sauce littered with spices. God, that smelled good... "Where'd your mom come up with this, and can I have the recipe?"

"Nope. Special made by only me." He shook his head, shooing you away with the spoon. "Go away. You already ate."

There goes getting the granola bar... Sam would totally snitch.

"Save me some for later?" You stuck out your lip in a pout, giving him your best innocent face.

He rolled his eyes, turning away from you and stirring his soup, "We'll see."

You giggled, turning away and walking towards the living quarters with a pep in your step, "I appreciate you."

"Yeah, yeah." You heard him grumble, "Since you do my paperwork..."

"And I do a fabulous job!" You called in sing-song, rounding the corner into the hallway and feeling giddy about bringing Bucky his surprise.

He'd been talking about how he'd been craving French Silk Pie, and you just so happened to spot a few slices left at the restaurant. The manager had recognized you from the photo of you and Bucky at the sushi restaurant and seeing you in that interview, and had offered to slip in a few extra slices of pie for next to nothing... so you'd taken a page from Bucky's book and tipped the staff an obscene amount.

Bucky was going to shit when he saw how many pieces of pie you were coming back with.

"FRIDAY can you unlock the door for me, please?" You called out quietly, listening to the door click as it unlocked. "Thank you." As you pushed open the door, you spotted your handsome soulmate sitting at his desk, sharpening a knife carefully. "You planning on murdering me with that, or what?"

"Ha-Ha. Very funny." He deadpanned, eyes trained on the knife as he examined it, "If I was going to murder you, stabbing you to death would be too messy."

"Comforting." You chuckled, shutting the door behind you and hanging your coat on the back of the door and laying the plastic bag full of food on his bed. You reached behind you to unzip your dress, heading over to his closet to grab a shirt to lounge around in. "I buy you a delicious treat, and you plot my murder."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm also looking at files for the new recruits." He replied, voice sounding really far away. "Jennings looks promising."

You frowned, pulling his shirt over your head. Trying to feel him out through the bond. He seemed... neutral. It was weird. Not upset, but also not happy. Peeking around the corner, trying to be sneaky, you watched him as he read through another recruit file flipping the knife around skillfully. He didn't look tense. He also didn't look like he was concentrating on the file, either.

"Why are you staring at me?" He asked suddenly, not turning around. His hair looked messy, like he'd been running his hand through it.

"Why are you being weird?" You asked, walking over to the bed and grabbing one of the small to-go boxes out of the bag. Setting it on his desk with a plastic fork, you leaned down and wrapped your arms around him from behind - resting your chin on his shoulder. "I got you french silk pie."

He turned his head, pressing a small kiss on your bare arm. "Thanks, sweetheart."

You didn't think you could frown any further, but you were wrong.

He was totally being weird.

"Okay, okay." You moved away from him, sitting on the edge of his bed and grabbing one of the pie slices. "What's wrong with you? What are you hiding from me? You're too... neutral."

"Nothing's wrong with me." He replied, not turning around. "I'm not hiding anything."

Bullshit!

"Lies." You sang out, digging into your piece of pie. "Can't bullshit a bullshitter. Especially when she's connected to you emotionally through a magical soulmate bond." You shoved a bite into your mouth, realizing that you'd grabbed one of the apple pie slices. A pang of annoyance nudged you in the chest, and you rolled your eyes, "You can be annoyed all you want, but that's not telling me what's up with you."

He sighed, leaning his head back for a moment, before spinning around in his chair and giving you a look of annoyance. "If I tell you, will you let up?"

"Maybe." You smirked, taking another bite of pie.

"I..." He looked down, picking at one of the plates in his hand - a nervous tick. "I talked to Tony, today."

Oh.

Oh shit.

You hoped it was a productive conversation. It had to have been, if Bucky wasn't upset. Then again, he was attempting to hide his feelings from you. Maybe it wasn't, and he didn't want to tell you?

You set your dessert down on the bed, leaning forward in interest, "And...?"

"He..." Bucky cleared his throat, not looking at you. "He wants to have us see Dr. Collins." He finally looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Together."

You smiled, relief washing through you. This was good. If they saw Dr. Collins together, they might get to the root of their issues in a positive way that didn't include destroying the building... one can hope.

So why did Bucky look like someone pissed in his coffee?

"This is good, right?" You asked, confused. "Progress?"

"Yeah." He mumbled, looking back down at the dark, metal plates in his hand. "I guess."

"But...?"

"But-" His leg started bouncing up and down, and you could feel the nervous energy outside of the bond. "I'm a little... afraid about..." He sighed, shaking his head and closing his beautiful blue eyes, "I don't know. Doing all this-" He seemed to be struggling for the right words. "-opening up."

You nodded along as he paused, waiting for him to continue.

"What if... what if he still hates me in the end?" He rushed out, leg still bouncing. "I'm just... I'm so sick of people hating me for something I did when I was... him." He stood up, beginning to pace back and forth, and you had a feeling that he was about to explode. "I'm trying so hard. SO HARD. I..." He stopped, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. "I just... I hate what he did. I hate this. I don't want to go through all of this just for Tony to still hate me in the end."

He sat back down in his chair, hand running through his growing hair and leaning his elbows on his knees, "I'm just... I don't like this nervous feeling. That's why I was trying to hide my feelings. Because... I don't want to feel them." He looks back up at you, blue eyes full of sadness that hurt your heart. "Sometimes I feel like it's easier being him. He doesn't feel anything, and I barely remember half the shit he did."

"Bucky..." You sighed, standing up and moving to sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his middle and leaning the side of your head against his shoulder. "It's understandable that you don't want to feel the hard feelings. They suck ass." He snorted at your words, arms wrapping around you, but you kept going, "But you're human. Even if you're a supersoldier with some crazy serum running through your veins, you're human. Feelings make you human. Feelings make you Bucky, instead of him." You looked up at him, as his arms tightened around you. "I'm not going to pretend I'm Dr. Collins and say something irritatingly profound, but... I think you know exactly what Dr. Collins would say."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He sighed, pressing his face into the top of your head - warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. "He's annoying."

"He may be annoying, but he knows what's up." You chuckled, turning your head so you were looking into his icy eyes, "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, I know." He smiled, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes, "I love you, too."

Shifting around, you moved so your arms were wrapped around his shoulders and your face was level with his, "I brought you french silk pie."

"You spoil me." He grinned, arms around your middle, "How'd your dinner with your parents go?"

You grimaced, rolling your eyes, "It was weird. It kind of feels like those two hours were a dream. I don't believe that my parents actually had a real conversation with me." He raised an eyebrow at you and you huffed out a sigh, "Yeah. Yeah. I'm happy. I'm glad that we can finally talk, but... it's just weird. I don't really know how to process it."

"Finally going to be one big, happy family, huh?" He laughed, poking you in the side. "Like The Brady Bunch?"

"First of all, when the hell did you have time to watch The Brady Bunch without me?" You narrowed your eyes at him, raising a brow in question, "Second of all, there's only three of us."

"I didn't watch it," He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at you before standing and setting you on the bed, turning around and grabbing his container of pie, "I read about it."

"STOP DOING THAT!!" You whined in annoyance, throwing a chunk of your apple pie at him. Oh my god, if he kept fucking doing that... "You need to actually watch these things! Stop reading the plot on Wikipedia! It's not the same!"

"I read faster than I watch!" He took a huge bite of his pie, crumbs falling onto the floor. "I can read the plot in a fourth of the time it would take to watch the whole thing." After another obnoxiously large bite of his pie, he set the container back on the desk, moving towards the bed, "If I try and catch up on all the shows and movies I missed over the last century, I'll be biologically ninety before I'm caught up."

As he moved the bag of containers to the floor, you held the slice of apple pie closer to your chest, "I'm not sharing my pie." You took another bite of the sweet pie, the taste of cinnamon on your tongue. He kept moving closer, and you turned your body away from him holding the pie away from him, "NO! You can't have my pie! You have your own!"

"If you don't put it on the nightstand it's going to be in the bed." He warned, an evil look in his eye. "I'm giving you three seconds."

You yelped, attempting to scarf down the obscenely large and sweet piece of pie as fast as you could.

"Three."

You scrambled away from him, but his arm wrapped around your middle as you continued to shovel the food in your face.

"Two."

"NO!!! I'm TRYING!" You giggled, tossing the fork onto the floor, but unable to reach the nightstand with the container full of whipped cream and a large chunk of pie still sticking in the container. You shrieked out a laugh as he tackled you into the bed, the slice of pie completely smearing all over your face and hair. "BUCKY!!"

"One."

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Part 31 ...coming soon to a Tumblr near you.

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