#there were restraints involved. and also syringes

[emkini]

Every once in awhile I remember that one toxic friendship I had as an 11-13 year old where our highly involved animal/keeper roleplay got so weird and intense that we had a safeword. Hope that girl is living the kinky life of her dreams nowadays because dear lord

#this is by far my best tmi story I think #there were restraints involved. and also syringes #tfw it's been 2 hours and your girlpal is getting so into it you're freaking out #so you ask if you can occasionally call 'real person time' to detox a little #and she's like yeah sure sounds legit and brings you a snack because she's cool like that #and then 5 minutes later you're tied to your bed and blindfolded while she pets your hair because that's normal girly stuff right. right? #the best part is both of us were raised in christian homeschooling environments #our asses did NOT know what tf we were doing but looking back on it. um. #nevermind em

[foxboyclit]

pretty when you're mine

in which the Nydallas have some fun with spider venom. thank you @hyenagirlbulge for the venom play ideas (and for being a lovely beta/co-writer in general) <3

content warnings for needle mentions, paralysis, and cnc/dubious consent

 Iphis had been summoned to the Menagerie, keeping his Mistress company as she tended to her beloved pet spiders. A sizable room tucked away in House Nydalla’s corridors, it was kept just to the residents’ likings-cool and dark with enough space in each enclosure to spin their most impressive webs. He stood by her side as she tended to a handful of hatchlings. 

“These will provide a great advantage to the house once they’re grown,” she explained, “their venom is trusted with keeping a noble’s belongings safe; it’s potent enough to paralyze a Matron for up to an hour.”

“Hypersensitivity is also a side effect, is it not?” He asked, watching the tiny arachnids feast on a beetle.

“Good recall, Ra’soltha. The side effect is desired almost as much as the paralysis-its drow users enjoy toying with their victims before an easy disposal.” 

She paused for a moment, her attention no longer on the spiders but instead, her consort. She was contemplating something, he could tell by her studying of him. With that gleam of sadistic interest in her eye, he prayed his predictions were right.

“Which brings me to wonder, how good would it make a plaything out of a man?”

“If you’re wanting to experiment, I am here to be your test subject.”

“That’s my good boy.” There was a hint of a purr in her voice, enough to send a flood of warmth through his core.

“Tonight, in my bedchambers, you will make yourself ready. Let’s see how you fare as a doll.”

—

Night came, and Iphis made himself to be found as instructed: naked, on his back, splayed onto the sheets for easy access. This position raised the fluttering in his chest more than kneeling; perhaps due to his usual orders of being on his knees, or he couldn’t easily lift his head to see his Mistress. When he was like this, usually rope was involved. Tonight, restraints wouldn’t be necessary. 

He strained his eyes watching Minisstra circle him with a syringe in hand. “Once administered, you will not be able to move, and I’ll have you all to myself for the hour.” She closed in, gently lifting his arm to greet the needle point to his skin. 

“This will also grant more intense sensations, consider it a treat for being such a pliant doll. Are you ready, Ra’soltha?”

 The cold examination in her eyes had him pinned and wound tight like new harp strings. And this was before the injection, he realized with a dry swallow. He glanced at the needle, then his Mistress again, before giving a nod.

“Yes, Mistress.” 

He felt the prick of pierced skin, the needle’s slow withdrawal, and gasped at the sudden tingling sensation through his arm. How quickly the venom acted, dancing through his veins and dipping every one of his nerves in the waltz. His muscles locked up just as quick, the pins and needles weaving fibers of bright, burning sensation throughout his body. 

“Look at how easy it accepts being a toy. It should have no problem holding still for its Mistress.” 

Iphis found his last bit of strength used in a stuttering moan. His Mistress stroked his arm lightly, which might as well have been his clit for how it felt. Need spread through him, a white-hot fever only stoked by his attempts to lean into it. Any movement he did manage was halted by her hands, the pressure easing him back down too good, too much to resist.

“Have you already forgotten your orders? I have no use for a toy that moves on its own.” 

She moved to straddle him, her touch gliding past his shoulders to his collar bones drawing a half-dead moan, which strangled itself in his throat as those hands found their way across the flat planes of his chest and circled around his nipples. There was no doubt he was flushed a deep violet, for how every pinch and pull ignited his skin like he was nothing but a web of desire.

Minisstra continued to weave it through his body until her hands settled on his hips, the pads of her thumbs circling his skin, made even more unbearable by the paralyzation. She kissed the moth inked onto his lower stomach, met his gaze as her hands slid down.

“Look at how wet the doll is already, as if its instinct is to serve.”  Her fingers circle his clit, agonizingly slow motions, before dipping lower, and any semblance of coherent thought dissipated into a high keen. He wanted to squirm, to lean into and away from those fingers at once, and she smiled at the desperate noise escaping him as one admires a pinned insect.

“Is that all it can muster? How pathetic, it’s almost adorable.”

 Iphis feels the strain in his vocal chords, harmonizing with his locked muscles as her fingers slide in. It doesn’t take much to open him up at this point, she’s undoubtedly aware. To watch him twitch and whine uselessly is part of the pleasure she takes in his helplessness. 

Her fingers withdraw from him, and he silently curses the emptiness before those hands find his hips again, lifting them to meet hers, and a strangled, almost primal sound falls from his dead mouth as she slides in. 

Gods, he doesn’t know how much longer he can last, and his Mistress has to know how close he is with how tightly he’s clenched around her. She apparently does, because as she reaches for his hair to pull his strained gaze closer, she says,

“Is my toy coming from just being filled? How disappointing, I thought it could last longer. Fortunately, toys are only spent when their Mistress is done playing.” 

She fucks into him, slowly at first, then as he comes, Minisstra snaps her hips and Iphis’ vision goes white. His fingers flex weakly, trying and failing to grasp onto the sheets as she takes all his stunned self can give.

How beautiful, how torturous was venom’s hypersensitivity in marriage with being fucked through his orgasm and quickly brought to another. The overstimulation hurt, as it usually did, but to endure this much pain without so much as a scratch on him was a new suffering entirely. It was unbearable-it was divine. Thank the gods he had no choice but to take it!

 Even if his mind were still with him, there was no chance he could count the orgasms he’d been fucked through. All he could do was remain half aware of once again being close while his Mistress had her way with him. 

The fingers tangled in his hair tighten his grip as Minisstra hits deep, and his pitiful attempt at a thank you almost drowns her deep moan as she finishes. She stayed hilted in him for some moments, kissing him softly as his mouth slowly came back to him.

“Well done, Ra’soltha. No Mistress could ask for a better doll.”

She lay beside him, stroking his hair as the venom began to wear off. Every muscle felt wrung out, and somewhere far off in his tired, fucked out mind he hoped there’d be remnants of the feeling come next morning.

Once movement found itself possible in his limbs, Iphis let himself be guided to the bathroom on still unsteady legs. Minisstra kept an arm around him, gazing down with satisfaction and patience that rippled through him like warm honey. She helped him into the tub first as it began to fill with steaming water before joining him, and Iphis sighed contently as he could finally lean back into her touch. 

There, she washed him off as he settled deeper into the hot water. The temperature, coupled with the delicious attention she paid to his aching body, rendered him pliant as molten glass; such a feeling only she was found capable of. With his mind as well as his mouth returning to him, he mused:

“Please tell me there’s more vials you’re keeping somewhere, I’ll count myself lucky to again be your toy.”

She placed a kiss on top of his head, “As if you needed one to be such a thing.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I did,” she admitted, “and you’ll be pleased to know that vial wasn’t all that I found at the apothecary.”

#c: iphis nydalla #c: minisstra eradia nydalla #fox's writing #baby's first smut fic! #smut intimidated me for a while but i found it really fun!

[slasherholic]

ive developed asa brainrot

asa emory x sick!victim!reader hcs

synopsis: you’re the collector’s favorite. you get a fever and he cares for you in his own questionable ways.

contains: gender neutral reader, drugging, mentions of throwing up

• You try very hard to hide the fact that you’re sick from him, but when the fever sets in, he catches on.

• Asa can feel the difference in your temperature right away when he takes you out of your trunk. Peeling off one of his gloves, he presses his hand to your forehead for a temperature check.

• Definitely a fever. You’re burning up.

• The second you know he knows you’re apologizing to him. You weren’t trying to hide it, you don’t know how it happened, you weren’t anywhere you weren't supposed to be, you’re sorry…

• His obedient little butterfly is apologizing for being sick. Cute. You really are terrified to your core of him and he loves it. Stroking your cheek with the back of his gloved hand, he lets you keep going until your apology dribbles away to soft, pitiful whimpers.

• He comes back with a thermometer and pats your face gently. Open up.

• 103. You’re not just a little sick, you’re dangerously sick. And you were still trying to hide it from him. Tisk tisk.

• You have the privilege of being Asa’s favorite (living) specimen in his collection, and he doesn’t want you to expire while he’s away from the hotel, but as a precaution he doesn’t mix his hobbies with his personal life. So taking you home for treatment is out of the question.

• He also doesn’t want to catch whatever the hell you have. He hates being sick. It doesn’t mix well with his active lifestyle. No thank you, keep your germs to yourself.

• Luckily he has a “recovery” room for this sort of thing. It’s where he sticks you to treat your wounds when he plays too rough.

• The room is small and so is the bed, a meager spring mattress and single uncased pillow. The bed is outfitted with soft hospital restraint straps. He straps your ankles snuggly in, but lets you keep your upper body free. He doesn’t want you choking on your own vomit if you start to puke.

• Pops some Tylenol in your mouth and presses a cup of cold water to your lips, not letting you stop until you’ve drunk it all.

• Spoon feeds you chicken broth :)

• He’s very pleased with the way you eyeball the bowl in his hands warily, like it’s drugged or poisoned or fucking bleach instead of soup, but you don’t hesitate to gulp down the spoonfuls anyway as soon as he lifts them to your lips.

• It’s just soup from his pantry, butterfly. He bought it at Costco. No drugs, no tricks. But he’s alright with keeping you in the dark about that.

• He can’t really be overly cruel to you in this state if he doesn’t want you to croak, but a little psychological torture never killed anyone.

• He leaves you alone to rest for a while and by the time he comes back, you've vomited all over yourself and on the tile. Great.

• You have tears in your eyes and a pleading little expression on your face, clearly terrified you’re going to be punished for it. “I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up.”

• Usually he would make you clean it up yourself. But you’re so delicate right now, so sick. He’ll take care of it just this once. Not that you had much in your stomach to expel, anyway.

• Asa lets you shower off whenever he notices you’re starting to stink. He usually doesn’t involve himself in the affair, just tosses you a washcloth and a bar of soap, and a little tube of shampoo, and lets you do your thing for a few minutes.

• Baths are a different story. Baths are hands-on. Baths mean Asa is going to scrub your body down himself.

• He comes and retrieves you when the water is drawn and sets you gently down in the tub. You whimper when your toes touch the water like you’re expecting it to be boiling. It’s not. The temperature is pleasant.

• He takes his time wiping you down, holding your wrist as he scrubs the warm soapy cloth along your arm and clavicle area, washing away the vomit. You’ve got it in your hair too so he shampoos you, working the soap into your scalp with his fingers, rubbing up a good lather. You’re totally limp while he does it, letting him have his way.

• When you don’t reek like puke anymore, he takes you back to the treatment room. Back go your ankle straps. Not that he thinks you can get away from him in this condition, he’s just an asshole and won’t ever pass up a chance to restrain you and violate your autonomy. It really gets him off.

• He leaves the room one more time. He comes back holding another cup of water and… a hypodermic needle. You’re pretty sure it isn’t fever medicine in that syringe.

• It’s absolutely not lol

• He has shit to do, so he’s gonna drug you out of your mind so you can take a good, long sleep.

• Down goes the second cup of water without a fuss. You’re being very good for him.

• In goes the needle. You whine as he slips it into the tender flesh of your inner arm, watching him slowly press down on the plunger and empty the fluid into your bloodstream.

• Your eyes begin to grow heavy and sag within the minute. He gives your cheek a few light pats with his gloved hand when he sees your pupils dilating, the drug taking its quick effect.

• Then he rises from your bedside, switches off the light, locks the door behind him, and leaves you to slip into forced unconsciousness all alone in the dark.

• Get well soon, butterfly. He has so much more in store for you.

#this one goes out to me because last month a fever put me on my ass #and i couldnt get this scenario off de brain #asa emory #the collector #asa emory x reader #the collector x reader #slashers #horror #writing #reader insert #fanfiction #tw: emetophobia

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (12/15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 1.9k words

Warning : angst, violence

Getting kidnapped sucked. Majorly. The most important three things that one should keep in mind before getting kidnapped; 1) Call the cops 2) Keep your doors locked 3) Don't leave the safety of your powerful and hot boyfriend. The last one might seem absurd, it's the one you regret the most because it had been two hours since you were abducted from the confines of your apartment and the only person you could think about was James. Maybe you were scared, or maybe it was the drugs that made you a little fuzzy, all you knew was that you couldn't think right. Your mind was reminiscing the image of your boyfriend in your bed to distract you from the man standing in front of you. This strange man was asking you several questions you didn't have answers to and hitting you whenever you told him the truth. The truth being you didn't know anything. 

“I'm going to ask you this last time,” He seethed, “Where is Barnes hiding his mother and sister?”

You inhaled sharply, waiting for the inevitable as you answered honestly, “I don't know.”

Although your body was heavily drugged, you still felt the impact of his slap on your face. Blood was trickling down your cheek, some of it seeping through your lips, making you realize the severity of the situation. You were sure his hand's imprint was already formed on your face, and it made you shiver with fear. 

It had been hours since a man kidnapped you from your apartment. He was already in your home when you entered, and one syringe at the back of your neck was enough to confirm your compliance. Not that you were strong enough to put much of a fight in front of this large man anyway, but you were strong; you could have at least injured him a little to feel some sense of pride and not this helplessness. 

The only thing you knew was that your kidnappers were behind James's family and not money. They probably wanted to hurt them, but since James and his friends never talked about their loved ones or even mentioned them, it was evident that they were being kept far away from their life. A part of you wondered if maybe you hadn't been with James, then you wouldn't have been in this mess either. But another part of you was thankful for James, for making you feel loved and cherished in a way you've never felt before. So, the bigger part of you would be fine if you died tonight because you got to experience that kind of love. The kind of love you never thought you would endure in your life, the kind that people don’t get to feel in a lifetime — which you had the opportunity to feel in a couple of days.

***

Bucky was distraught. After a few drinks with his friends, finally, he fetched his phone to call you, only to find out what had happened. Sam was leaning over Bucky’s shoulder to get a look at your text so that he could tease him, but the picture left him shocked. 

Bucky kept staring at the image, hoping this was a sick nightmare, and he would wake up in your bed.

 “Buck,” Steve called for his friend. Gently, placing his palm on Bucky's shoulder. “She must be in one of Rumlow’s warehouses. We will get her.”

But no, Bucky couldn’t hear anything that his friends were saying. He couldn't look up from his phone, couldn't shake his eyes to focus on anything except your distressed figure. All Bucky could think about was you — you were held in a foreign environment forcefully because of him. You had been with him for a day, and you were already being hunted by his enemies. He felt so selfish about dragging you in his life. 

He couldn't stop thinking about all the wretched outcomes. What if he loses you? What if you never forgive him? What if he never gets to tell you how much he loved you? 

“Clint contacted our source,” Sam informed him, “Wanda Pietro will go and check out the possible places where she could be kept, while the rest will lay low till then.”

Bucky finally looked up, he placed the phone down on the table and met the concerned gaze of his friends. He thought about how no one knew about Sam and Steve's daughter, Wanda's girlfriend - Natasha, Peter's aunt, Clint's wife - Laura and their kids. He thought about how no one knew about his own mother and sister. The only reason their families were safe was because no one knew that they were related to them or even existed. 

Bucky wasn't naïve, the only reason you were attacked was simply because you meant something to him. He was aware that he needed to protect you from his life, he didn’t think it would be necessary this early. He just got you, and you were already slipping away from his grip. 

Furthermore, he knew what needed to be done to keep you safe; he could hide you forever. Bucky wasn’t a selfish man and as much as he wanted you in his arms every second, he couldn't put you in harm's way, and hiding you would be like taking away a part of you. Everything you've worked hard for would be lost, you would not be able to publish your work, you would not be able to leave the house. It would rip any sense of freedom from your life. He couldn’t take all those things away from you just so he could hold you close to his heart. He couldn't do that to you, so he would have to let you go.

***

The plan was simple. They had located the warehouse. Steve and Sam would attack from the back entrance. Pietro, Wanda, and Peter would keep a watch outside and Clint and Bucky would strike from the front entrance. They didn’t need to bring many men because Clint’s source had confirmed that there were only 4 guards with Bucky’s girl. Bucky could have taken down all four of them on his own, but Steve insisted that they should assist him for safety measures. Bucky didn't want Peter out in the field. He was still very young, the only reason he got involved in this was because of his uncle’s murder. He needed the money to gather for his college tuition and help his aunt financially. Peter was hired because he wouldn't take no for an answer and Bucky agreed to his assistance with the club, but barely on the field.

Stealthily, Bucky made his way inside the warehouse with his companions, only to find it empty. 

“We gotta check all the floors,” Sam advised, “Steve and I will take the basement, you both take the floors.” 

Bucky nodded and made his way to the stairs, clutching his gun tightly in his hold. Clint followed him, mimicking the actions of his friend. The first floor was also empty. 

Each empty corridor felt like a wound being pressed over and over for Bucky. He needed to find you, he needed you. He pointed his gun in hopes of finding Rumlow’s men, but was met with vacant rooms. Not only that, but he could hear his heartbeat getting faster. What if you weren’t here at all? What if Rumlow had already hurt you and he was too late? No, he can't think like that. He would get you back safe no matter what.

“Let's check out the second one,” Clint said, and Bucky almost flinched. He forgot that he wasn’t alone. 

The second floor wasn't as eerily quiet as the first one, they could hear shuffling of shoes and muffled noises. You were here. Cautiously, they made their way towards the sounds and noticed two of Rumlow’s men. Carefully, Bucky tackled one of them to the ground, covering your captor's throat tight enough for him to pass out. Clint took care of the second one. Two more to go, Bucky thought. Two more and then you'll be safe with him in his arms.

The man that Clint hit made a noise, indicating to the other men about the breach. That was good for Bucky, he didn't want you to see this side of him. He reserved all of his sweet touches for you, and he didn't want you to see those same hands hurt someone. Expectedly, the other two captors made their way towards Bucky and Clint, and both men easily took them out.

Bucky finally made his way inside the room, where you were kept — after being taken away from him. His face fell when he caught sight of the bruises running along your cheek, the fingerprints on your face. You couldn't stifle the fear and the relief as you burst into tears at the sight of him.

You wanted to be strong for him, but you just weren't. Likewise, you were scared and exhausted. All you wanted was for Bucky to tread towards you and hold you. 

And that he did. 

In three long strides, he knelt in front of you, he took a bloodied knife out of his pocket and started cutting the restraint surrounding your hands. Under any other circumstances, a bloodied knife would have made you nauseated — scared even, but this was James — your James. He wouldn't hurt you.

Softly, he took your left restraint-free wrist in his hand, gently running circles to soothe the pain. He hadn't looked at you yet, he was so focused on your injuries that he didn't see you. You wanted to shout and make him hold you, but only a trembled sob came out of your throat.

You could speak, you didn't have anything covering your mouth. Why weren’t you speaking? Why was he so focused on your wounds and not looking at you?

“Bucky,” you whispered, his eyes snapped up to meet yours and you could see the tears welled up in his eyes. Under any other state of affairs, he would have had a different reaction to you calling him Bucky instead of James for the first time. He was so vulnerable that your words caught him off guard. His eyes were scanning your face for any discomfort or pain.

“Bucky,” you exhaled again, and that broke him out of his trance. His palms instinctively came for your face and you closed your eyes. Carefully, he pressed a kiss on your forehead, eyes, cheeks, nose, and finally to your lips. The kiss was so gentle, soothing even, as if he was scared that his kiss would hurt you. “I’m fine,” you assured him. Without saying a word, he nodded and continued to free your right hand.

It was so easy to get lost in his concerned gaze — to get lost in him.

Bucky was focused, too focused on your wounds and comfort, that he didn’t feel the movement behind him. It wasn't until you felt another prick at your nape and you hissed in pain. But it was too late and by the time Bucky looked up to inspect your uneasiness, the butt of a gun hit him in the head, knocking him unconscious on the floor.

Clint put the gun back in his waistband and made a call to his brother, Brock Rumlow. 

TAGS:  @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998​ @marvel-3407​ @mybuck @priii​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @ladydmalfoy​ @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy​​

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

[jinmukangwrites]

@damianwayneweek Day 1 (6-13): Truth serum | Damian Wayne Protection Squad™ | Best friends to lovers

Note: Rushed. I'm sure it's still the 13th somewhere.

Warnings: kidnapping, nonconsensual drugging, needles.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick wakes to the taste of blood on his tongue.

Thankfully, after slowly moving his tongue around, it's just because he bit the inside of his cheek sometime between when he was knocked out and when he woke up. His head pounds like a war-drum with his heart as he tries to get ahold of his situation. Without opening his eyes, he assess his arms are restrained behind his back and he's sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair. His legs are also tied to the chair, keeping him from running.

The suit he wears feels suffocating, proof that—once again—him wearing Batman's cowl isn't some sort of sick joke. However, his shoulders are a bit lighter suggesting his cape has been taken. Not that he'll mourn it.

His cowl is on. He silently curses himself for not checking that first. It would be the first thing Bruce checked.

He always prioritized the identity. The mission. Secrecy before safety, Gotham before everything else. Not injuries, not friends, not family, partners-

Dick's eyes fly open, reminding him of the real thing he should have checked for first.

"Robin," he gasps out loud, looking wildly around the room and tugging on the ropes holding his back to the chair.

The room is dark and small, the walls made of cinder bricks that have water mold where it connects to the cement floor. In front of him is a metal table with a black, palm sized box placed on top. Dick ignores that for now and looks to his side, only relaxing when he finds Damian to his right, tied similarly to another chair with his chin to his chest. Only unconscious, Dick notes as he watches his stomach rise and fall.

However, anxiety flutters in his gut when he sees there's a dried trail of blood running down the side of his head.

"Robin," he tries again, knowing at the back of his head that Bruce would be telling him to be quiet. Check for cameras. Look for an escape route. Don't let them know you're awake until you have a plan-

Dick shakes his head. Damian could have a concussion, and that takes priority. Dick could have one as well, considering how badly his head hurts, but Damian is only ten years old and Dick knows better than anyone the lingering effects injuries could have when you're a child.

He presses his feet to the ground and pushes, attempting to slide closer to his protege. He does nothing more than jolt in place. There's not enough leverage.

However, it seems the sound of the metal scraping against the ground is enough to wake up the boy. He comes to with a small groan and a pain laced crease between his brow.

"Robin," Dick repeats a third time. He can do nothing but sit as Damian blinks slowly behind his mask; his shoulders tensing as he too notices the restraints.

Damian opens his mouth, but before any words could leave there's a loud clang. The door in front of Dick and Damian, on the other side of the table, swings open.

In walks three men; two are unfamiliar, but the third Dick recognizes from the case files he and Damian got from Gordon about a week ago. Jonas Gibbs. Known arms dealer and smuggler. He's made his moves in Gotham these past few weeks, getting the police and public nervous about shootings with illegal guns. Batman and Robin had finally pinned down the date, time, and location of his next shipment and intended to take him down then, but he was smart and had hired help from various mercenaries that Dick could confidently bet used to be in the military before they were dishonorably discharged.

The way they moved, worked, and attacked was too strategic and planned. It was only a matter of time before one got a lucky hit on Damian; a blow with the butt of their rifle across the kid's forehead. The barrel of the rifle pointed down at Damian's unconscious body was all it took for Dick to raise his hands in surrender.

And now they're here, in some damp old room. Tied to chairs. A table placed in front of them with a mysterious box set on top of it.

"Perfect timing," Gibbs says, grinning. The two other men, clearly mercs, stand on either side of him as he drags up a chair and sits on the other side of the table. "I was almost afraid we'd have to dump water to get you up."

"What do you want?" Dick growls. He must want something. He hasn't taken off the cowl… or at least he hasn't tried to get through the various traps to pull it off. It means he must need something that an identity reveal wouldn't give him.

"I'm glad you asked, Batman," Gibbs says, a grin spreading on his face. He looks to one of his goons and they immediately pull a small camera out from a bag they had around their shoulder. He points it at Dick.

Dick gets a bad feeling about all of this.

"I want you to tell your real name for the camera."

Dick glares. "Are you serious?"

"Very. One of my men has second degree burns thanks to that cowl of yours electrifying him. So, I decided I'll let you go without any more harm. You tell me your names, and I'll let you go. Won't even show the video to anyone. Well," he smirkes, "unless you get in my way."

Dick clenches his jaw. Besides him, Damian mumbles something.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three," Gibbs says, unphased. "Otherwise it will get unpleasant."

His eyes drift to the black box, signifying it's mysterious importance. Dick doesn't let it scare him. He's not going to let this low life criminal blackmail him... put him and his family in danger. He'll take whatever will be thrown at him until he can work out a way to escape.

Gibbs counts down, and he reaches zero uninterrupted.

"Well," Gibbs says, unsurprised. "The hard way then. Gag him."

The grunts move like clockwork, and before Dick knows it his face is being grabbed and held in place while the other shoves a rag into his mouth and wraps a layer of tape around his face to hold it there.

"Batman..." he hears Damian mumble as the grunts back up. He sounds out of it. In pain. Dick can only hope that the hit he took to his head isn't too serious.

Gibbs retakes his attention, however, when he reaches forward and presses a hatch on the side of the black box, flicking it open on spring-loaded hinges. What's inside makes Dick's stomach drop. A needle and a glass vial filled with a yellow tinted liquid lays neatly inside. One of the grunts lifts the needle and the vial to begin filling it up.

"Do you know what this is?" Gibbs asks as the liquid fills the syringe. "I've yet to test it on anyone, but word is from the man I bought it from... It forces the truth out of you." The grunts finishes filling the syringe and flicks the bubbles. "Truth serum."

Dick has no doubt that the serum will work. He only wonders why he's threatening with it while he's gagged.

When the grunt walks around the table to Damian, he doesn't wonder anymore.

He can only tug on his restraints as the grunt grabs Damian's arm to aim the needle. Damian, for his effort, attempts to pull away, but the weakness of his head injury and his restraints do nothing to stop the needle from entering the inside of his elbow.

"You could have done this the easy way, Batman," Gibbs says. Dick watches as the syringe is pressed down, pushing the liquid into Damian's body. "I never like getting children involved."

Damian squeezes his jaw shut and turns his head away from the needle in his arm. It only takes a moment before the grunt pulls the empty syringe out before returning to standing besides his leader. A bead of blood appears where the needle left Damian's skin, but the boy doesn't move.

The air feels solid. Dick can hardly breathe as he tries to conceal his panic. He wants nothing more than to get out of these restraints and punch Gibbs and his men into next year, but he can't reach anything useful to do so. All he can do is watch Damian sit stock still as drugs spread through his veins.

A minute passes as Gibbs sits there in smug silence. Then, when a few more moments pass, he speaks.

"Robin," he says. Damian flinches, but doesn't look his way. His jaw still clenched. The goon with the camera points it right at Damian. "Why don't we start with something easy? What's your favorite animal?"

Damian curls his fingers behind his back and keeps his jaw grinding shut.

"Tight lipped huh?" Gibbs chuckles. He doesn't look surprised. Or worried. "Don't worry, I was assured that once it's fully in your system, it will hurt more to say nothing. What's your favorite animal, Robin?"

Damian says nothing, but he looks ridged. Tense.

"You look uncomfortable, Robin. Do you feel it in your head? I promise it will get better when you stop resisting. Let's try something different while we wait. Are you from Gotham?"

Damian's knuckles must be white under his gloves.

"How about your favorite color? Is it blue?"

Damian breathes a shaky breath through his nose, and Dick's heart breaks. He works harder to find a weakness in his restraints.

"My, your resilience is admirable. Were you trained on this?" Gibbs asks. Damian remains stubborn, but Gibbs still doesn't look worried. "Who were you trained by?"

"The best," Damian whimpers, cutting himself off with a growl and shutting his jaw. Gibbs smiles.

"What's your favorite animal?"

Damian shakes his head, a frustrated cry caught in his throat.

This continues, Gibbs finding victory in the one slip and pressing with everything he's got. Dick doesn't know how long Damian can last like this, and he doesn't want to find out. With every passing second, Dick knows it's only a matter of time before Damian's lips loosen. No amount of training can beat a good concussion and drugs designed to make your lips loose.

"What grade are you? Do you have any friends?"

After each question, Dick can see more and more discomfort in Damian's position. He's beginning to fidget and whimper and Dick's... Dick's had enough.

"What's your favorite color, Robin?"

"Green," Damian says with strangled gasp, sounding horrified with himself.

Gibbs smirks like a predator, knowing he's finally won.

"What's your real name?"

Yeah. Dick's had enough. With a hard tug, the ropes around his wrists finally snap against where he's been rubbing at them with his gauntlets. Gibbs and his men can barely react before Dick's upon them, cutting away the rest of the ropes with a batarang from his belt. He makes quick work of them in their shock, knocking them out and leaving them on the floor in unconscious piles.

He almost bends to put cable ties on their arms and legs, but he hears a tight whimper behind him. The moment after, he's rushing over to Damian to undo the ropes.

"Are you okay?" Dick asks, cutting through the bonds.

Damian shakes his head. Dick almost kicks himself.

"It's okay," he quickly says. "No one can hear. Let it out."

He's almost afraid Damian will force himself to remain silent, but to his relief and heartache, Damian opens his mouth and lets out a heaving sob. "It hurts- it hurts-"

Dick finally undoes the ropes, then he pulls his kid in close to his chest. "Get it out," he soothes, rubbing Damian's back.

"Dogs-" Damian starts, dissolving into quick rambling breaths. Every question he had been asked begins to be answered. Dick holds him close and lets him get it out with his tears. Silently, he sends a message to Gordon to pick up Gibbs and his men, then he messages Alfred to get the med-bay and lab ready. Soon enough, Damian is silent except for pain laced gasps, he holds tight to Dick's chest as Dick lifts him up and stuffs the vial with extra serum into his belt.

"I got you," he says as Damian continues to cry all the way to the batmobile. "I got you."

#damianwayneweek2021 #damian wayne #dick grayson #robin #Nightwing #dc comics #jin writes #fanfiction #violence tw #needles tw #noncon drugging tw #ill upload to ao3 with an edited link in the morning

[justanothernicunurse]

Night one

I was really nervous about going into this shift, especially it not only being my first shift but also my first night shift, but it went so smooth. I had no issues staying awake, didn't get sick and felt great.

My preceptor who I briefly met last week is really nice. We get along really well and she's a great nurse. A little jaded to some of the kiddos and situations there, but it makes sense given the population and situations they deal with.

We had 3 patients and kept busy with them. A usual assignment is 4 patients. I don't know if we only had 3 because im orienting and she's precepting so it takes more time or just how it worked out. I'll write a bit about each patient, being HIPPA compliant obviously, to give an idea of what we see.

Baby A was around 9 months, has a trach and is on a ventilator. Plus TPN which is IV nutrition. They are a preemie and are currently weaning medication, and rocking it. They require the most care of the patients we had as they get meds every hour and have an IV that needs to be checked hourly as well per hospital policy. They also get chest PT and suctioning every few hours, wear a restraint (a sleeve over their PICC) that needs to be checked every 2 hours and get continuous feeds through a Gtube that we had to monitor and refill throughout the night since they get such a small amount so it comes from a syringe pump.

Baby B is a "feeder grower" so is there to work on eating and becoming less reliant on the feeding tube. They have pretty severe reflux too so it's a slow process. More difficult family as the mother has so many complaints and demands and requests. Plus a language barrier. Thankfully my preceptor speaks Spanish so she did most of their care. They also slept most of the night and really just needed feedings hooked up as mom had declined PO feedings for the night.

Toddler (C) is a trach kiddo but not vented and they are easy at night because they sleep through the night and just need their feeding bag refilled every so often. They are hilarious and adorable and troublesome at the same time. Everyone jokes they are the mascot of the unit. Very limited family involvement, although the situation sounds complicated, so they are really close to all the staff there. They are trickier to have during the day because they will disconnect from their tubes constantly and get into trouble. I think usually during the day they have a CNA assigned to them as it's taxing on the nurse if they don't. But at night they are easy as can be.

The flow of the night went well. I was able to actively do a lot which I wasn't expecting on my first shift but was glad for. I did a lot of meds, feedings and assessments. Every shift you have to do a bunch of assessments including a head to toe, which is honestly not bad because we ended up doing it throughout the night naturally. Lots of documenting which I got more comfortable with. I noticed my preceptor sometimes might not do a full official assessment but that seems to be the normal and it's hard to tell if she actually did it, maybe just differently. I want to be super careful that I am doing a full assessment and doing everything by the book right now when I'm learning, even if it won't always be that way. If that makes sense.

I haven't done anything regarding the trachs or vents or TPN/lipids yet as I need to be signed off on those skills but I have observed a bit, like a trach tie change and suctioning.

I felt like we were relatively busy and the night flew by, but we did have periods where we were sitting and talking and hanging out as well. No providers are in at night besides one 'moonlighter' who sleeps downstairs unless needed, so it's quieter. All the nurses there said days are crazy so I'm excited and anxious to do my first few day shifts next week

#nurblr #pediatric nursing

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 12 (Kiro) Part 6 [Weary Beast] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

For previous translations of Season 2 Chapter 12: Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5

Enjoy~

[Weary Beast]

MC: Ki…!

Helios: Why are you here?

He spat out those unwelcoming words. The edge of the knife reflected in the cold light and he interrupted me suddenly.

I looked at the person in front of me with a sullen anger in my heart.

….Relax, take it easy. Don’t get carried away. ***Changed some wording***

Helios: Don’t waste my time asking the same question again.

MC: ….I’m here to find someone.

After hearing my answer, Helios unknowingly tilted his head to the left. His eyes were alert and he glanced at the note in his hand, gripping it hard.

Helios: There is no one here for you to find.

MC: But I want to know….

Helios: I’m not interested in your nonsense.

***I don’t say this enough. Helios is ABSOLUTELY FINE in this outfit. All those belts and buckles, those rips in his pants, those, black gloves...I’ll never get enough of this outfit.***

The knife’s edge that was gradually pressing on my neck was wrapped in an icy breath and the smell of disinfectant. Something like an earpiece in his right ear caught my attention.

Helios came closer, condescendingly suppressing me in the cramped space. His body was coiled tightly, like a weary beast.

Looking at him like this, I didn’t have a trace of fear. Only sadness and anger.

He hid his wounds and concealed himself in the darkness. He hid “Kiro” and from me.

He made himself into Helios.

My eyes stung. I couldn’t help lowering my head, looking at the rough and invisible line between us, unable to say anything.

Helios: Don’t show up in front of me again.

Helios: Otherwise, you won’t be so lucky next time.

After saying this, he backed away coldly, turned and left.

MC: Wait a minute, Helios. I think you are very similar to the person I am looking for.

MC: …Right, Kiro.

I gently called his name, expecting him to turn around with a smile and make a funny face at me in the next moment.

Even if he didn’t, there would still be some small changes in his expression from seeing me.

But Helios only turned sideways faintly, with a mocking look on his face.

Helios: Sorry to disappoint you. I am not that person.

Helios: I heard that Nox is not capable enough and it seems that the eyes are not good enough either.

MC: Kiro, I’m actually stronger and braver than you think.

I don’t want his deliberate harsh words to get to me, so I’ll just face him frankly and directly.

MC: Maybe you think I’m weak and can’t do much.

MC: But I’m really….not that useless. I’m not someone who can only stand by and wait for your protection.

MC: You know, don’t you?

Those clear eyes narrowed, and Helios looked at me quietly, without saying a word for a long time.

This is like a silent confrontation. The two of us holding that tight thread and neither one letting go.

Slowly, Helios smiled.

Helios: Who do you think you are and what does it have to do with me?

Helios: Don’t be too self-righteous.

I closed my eyes sadly, as if I heard the sound of the taut thread in my heart being severed.

You really are there, Kiro.

He made up his mind to disappear and acted as Helios. Treating Kiro like this, I can’t be the same.

I slowly opened my eyes and tried to force myself to smile.

MC: Okay, I think I am.

MC: But I want to know, Helios, why are you here?

Helios: Since when do I need to report to you, Nox?

MC: Of course there’s no need for you to.

MC: But you found something from me, so am I not allowed to ask?

His eyes closed in an instant, and his face changed color.

MC: Don’t think you can hide it by erasing the memory. I know you went to the B.S. Secret Research Institute.

MC: What are you looking for?

Before I could say any more, I was pressed against wall once again and an unbearable anger filled Helios’ wide-open eyes.

Seeing him like this, I knew I was right.

MC: Are you also investigating lesions and Evol….

While I was still talking, Helios’ knife immediately struck the wall next to my ear, his face threatening.

Helios: If you don’t want to die, stay away from this matter.

He gritted his teeth fiercely, holding the knife tightly with restraint, and spat out each word.

MC: I’m already involved, and I will definitely investigate it.

MC: You….Helios, can’t control me.

Both of us seemed to be holding double-edged knives, although we would bleed when we clearly stabbed each other.

But he still slashed the knife fiercely.

Helios: It seems that you are not afraid of death.

MC: Of course I’m afraid of death. Death and sacrifice will not solve any problems.

MC: I will find the truth.

MC: Or you can work with me and tell me why you want to look into this and…

Why are you leaving?

I didn’t say the last few words. I still didn’t give up and wanted to talk to him more.

Helios: I have nothing to tell you.

Helios: Stay away from this. If you get in my way…

Helios: I will let you know the consequences.

I couldn’t help but sneer. It seems that this person is not going to give in.

MC: Helios, let me tell you directly.

MC: Originally, I didn’t want to take care of this matter, but now I am, and I’ve made my decision.

MC: If you think I’m an eyesore, then just let me leave here, unless you say that I’m hindering you in the future.

MC: Or, are you actually worried about me?

Helios: Do I look so kind?

He smirked and took a half step back.

Helios: The name Nox doesn’t suit you. You should be called Narcissus.

I was so angry that I was about to explode and I raised my head in annoyance.

MC: I don’t care if you think I’m an eyesore or that you’re worried about me.

MC: If you’re capable, you can tie me up and keep me hostage every day. Otherwise….we rely on each other’s abilities. ***It’s getting really heated and I’m not talking about the confrontation happening between MC and Helios. I really wish I was in MC’s place right now!!!***

Helios’ attitude made me more certain that what happened to him was definitely related to Evol’s disease, and perhaps this incident involved many things.

If Kiro wants to hide, then I won’t chase.

I want him to come to me himself.

When I was done talking, I turned and left, grunting deliberately as I walked.

MC: I’m going to go investigate now!

My steps were purposely slow so he could catch up. But Helios stood there as if he didn’t hear me.

It wasn’t until I walked out of the B.S. that I secretly turned my head back and found that no one was following me.

I clenched my teeth and left irritably.

Helios hit the wall hard with his hand and the hearing aid in his right ear helped him to provide an echo of this blank world.

Just now, he thought it was another attack so he subconsciously struck his knife out.

Fortunately, he stopped his hand ahead of time and kept himself from shaking too much.

Because of his rush, he only brought one hearing aid. It made him a little sad when he missed some parts to what she said. ***Changed some wording***

MC: Kiro, I’m actually stronger and braver than you think.

Of course he knows.

It was never her problem.

He lifted his eyes and looked at the face in the mirror. The cold hearing aid in his ear was particularly bright under the dim light.

Kiro: “I command you….keep getting stronger….”

The distant echo kept coming, like a blessing.

It was like a heavy shackle.

I knew what I said was out of anger. When I returned home, I saw the messy tabletop and felt extremely frustrated.

But I don’t have time to hesitate. I must get myself together and think about what I can do for Kiro.

I once again pulled out the hunter game information and looked at each photo thoroughly.

In the densely wooded tropical rainforest, a huge group of stones was especially eye-catching.

I looked at the photo carefully and suddenly found that at the corner of the group of stones, there was a vaguely carved “8” symbol on it.

I froze for a moment as if something seemed to flash in my mind.

I immediately turned on the computer and zoomed in on each photo, one by one to find it. Finally, I found three of the same symbols in the stack of photos.

This symbol is the same as the one I saw in the game I participated in with Kiro.

MC: Is it a “small syringe” production plant within the hunter game?

But Shaw said before that this symbol was related to some kind of ruins.

Could this be a coincidence?

I looked at the symbols in the photos and fell into deep thought.

-End of Part 6-

***I don’t think I put enough screenshots of Helios but then again I don’t think Tumblr would be able to handle so much Helios in one post XD***

#spoilers #mlqc #mlqc spoilers #mlqc season 2 #mlqc season 2 spoilers #translations #mlqc translations #mlqc season 2 translations #kiro #kiro spoilers #helios #helios spoilers #love and producer #koi to producer #mr love queen's choice #mr love game #mr love dream date #mldd

[vulcan-highblood]

Resistance To Interrogation

Fandom: Supergirl (TV 2015)

Rating: M (torture, needles, drugs)

Pairing: Gen

Summary: Colonel Haley will do whatever it takes to keep her country safe. If that means using torture to force her agents to reveal Supergirl's secret identity, so be it. (Set during S4 Ep10 "Suspicious Minds". What exactly happened during Brainy's interrogation?)

Read it on AO3

Resistance To Interrogation

He should have expected this. He had expected it, in a way, but what Querl had not expected was for Colonel Haley to be so… ruthless, he supposed that was the best way to put it. One minute he had been trying to arrange his schedule to meet with Nia. He thought now was an excellent time to encourage the young woman to give Supergirl more substantial backup, and he felt certain now was the time to being training her to use her own Naltorian abilities. It may not be a comfortable experience, at first, but Querl was certain that Supergirl would need all the help she could get, and soon. No one else seemed to be taking things quite seriously enough, in his opinion - perhaps because they were not as familiar with the way these kinds of social movements worked out. Or perhaps they were more optimistic about human nature. Querl had no such hindrance, he was a realist and always would be.

It was the same reason why Querl had staked out a space online for himself, for all of them, as American Alien. They needed to rally others to champion their cause, to acknowledge injustice, or they would all lose before they had even fully recognized the need to fight. That was why he was so insistent that Supergirl had a strong support network right now - he could see the writing on the wall, so to speak, and he was not willing to see this world descend into violent xenophobia. He had enough experience with xenophobic people from his own time, he had no interest in watching it destroy lives in this time, too. 

Speaking of xenophobia, he did not appreciate the way Colonel Haley watched him as he ended the call with Nia, putting away the primitive communication device and turning to fully face the DEO’s new overseer. “Yes, Colonel Haley?”

“I need to speak to you about Supergirl,” she said, her face retaining a mostly neutral, vaguely displeased expression as she addressed him. “Follow me.”

Ah, so it was time. As he followed Colonel Haley to the interrogation rooms, he carefully bundled up all knowledge that tied Kara’s identity to Supergirl, ruthlessly dividing the two into separate identities in his mind. It took rather a long time, and involved taking everything he’d learned about her as a child, all of his historical knowledge, and everything he’d seen in this time. Even if he hadn’t known about Kara’s identity, the fact remained that he had access to facial recognition software, and his own internal systems could have clocked her instantaneously. He had to ruthlessly shut that down too, forcibly rewriting the code in his mind to ensure that no matter what, his mind would be categorically unable to accept the idea that Kara Danvers was Supergirl. He’d already laid most of the groundwork immediately following Alex’s ‘debrief’. It was his own form of RTI training - far less time-consuming, but also probably more invasive than what most people would require. This way, though, it would be absolutely impossible for him to know the identity of Supergirl, and thus he would be unable to betray her confidence. He owed her and Alex that much, at least. After accessing the necessary information, he ruthlessly cut them off from the rest of his mind, only after setting a delayed timer to allow them to be accessed again in two hours, reverting his systems to normal operation. Most of Haley’s interrogations thus far had lasted for approximately thirty minutes, but he felt it was better to err on the side of caution. 

Tentatively, Querl probed his mind. He knew that Colonel Haley was taking him in to ask him about Supergirl’s identity, but he needed to be certain that he didn’t know anything before she started asking questions. He scoured his mind for clues, anything that might point to Supergirl’s civilian identity. Fortunately, he was unable to unearth a single hint. For a moment, he amused himself by wondering if she perhaps had no alternate identity to discover, imagining that perhaps she spent all her spare time in the fortress of solitude. That was highly unlikely, and Querl was distantly aware that there was a part of his mind that had been completely cut off from the rest of him. He couldn’t sense what was there at all, only by probing at it could he identify a sort of blank, emptiness that he was certain had not been there thirty seconds ago. He supposed that must be where Supergirl’s secret identity lay. He mentally congratulated himself for thoroughly burying all knowledge of her identity to the point that despite his considerable intellect he was unable to make even an educated guess, and followed Colonel Haley into the interrogation room.

“Agent Dox,” Colonel Haley began, indicating for him to take a seat, “I must express my displeasure with your unwillingness to cooperate so far, especially considering the risk I have taken in vouching for you.”

Querl lifted a single eyebrow in query. “I’m afraid I don’t understand to what you are referring,” he answered, though of course he had a few ideas.

“You must know that after Supergirl’s rebellion, quite a few higher-ups were worried about further dissention in the ranks, especially from other aliens,” she said, levelling her dark gaze at him. “I am disappointed that you did not volunteer your assistance in the hunt for Supergirl’s identity.”

“To be perfectly honest, Colonel Haley, I did not feel it was any of my business, and I have been quite occupied with my assigned work,” Querl answered carefully, not allowing his disgust to show on his features. It would serve no good to lose his cool now. 

“Why wouldn’t it be your business?” Colonel Haley leaned forward a little, her eyes glittering with the hint of danger. “She is a threat to our operations.”

“I have run the calculations,” Querl replied, quite honestly, “and it is quite statistically unlikely that Supergirl will impede the efficacy of DEO operations. Wasting my time attempting to learn her identity, however, is more statistically likely to result in impaired operations. Hence, I did not volunteer my services.” He leaned forward as well, meeting her gaze with a hard look of his own. “I am a pragmatist, Colonel Haley. It does the organization more good if I am able to do my job, rather than wasting my time on this political tiff between the President and Supergirl. I have no interest in politics. Allow me to do my job, and leave me out of this.” He considered ending it there, but the look that was crossing her features prompted him to add, “Please.”

“I find it very hard to believe that you don’t know Supergirl’s identity,” Colonel Haley said, leaning back in her seat again, her eyes fixed on his face like she was waiting for a reaction.

“Hard to believe as it may be, I don’t,” Querl replied. It wasn’t even a lie. He didn’t know, wouldn’t know, possibly ever again. He had no idea when that little blank spot at the back of his mind would return to him, if ever.

“If I ordered you to investigate, would you?” Colonel Haley challenged.

Querl sighed heavily. “As I have already said, it would be a tremendous waste of my time and your resources. I don’t know. I don’t know how long it would take for me to find out. She could be anyone, and I am not confident in my ability to learn her civilian identity.”

Eyes narrowed, Colonel Haley didn’t even blink. “I don’t believe you,” she said. 

“It’s the truth,” Querl replied, shrugging his shoulders briefly. 

Sighing, Colonel Haley stood. “Wait here,” she commanded, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Well. That sounded vaguely sinister. Querl nodded, mentally tallying the tasks he still had to perform for his job. This was going to be a colossal waste of time, and he really didn’t have time to spare these days. Also, Nia was still waiting for him to call back and arrange a time and location for their conversation, and he didn’t like to leave her hanging. It felt unprofessional.

Colonel Haley didn’t take long, fortunately, returning with a slim briefcase that she set on the interrogation table. Flicking up the latch, she opened it to reveal some restraints, a few strips of rubber tubing, four vials of varying sizes and shades, three bottles with pills inside, two small bags filled with powder, another bag with a crystalline substance, three syringes, and at least a dozen needles. Interesting.

Querl nodded to the case. “Benzodiazepines? Barbiturates? Amphetamines?” As he examined the vials more closely, he found himself reacting with real surprise. “You even have an extract of Thanagarian Florpelveria, very rare, how did you get that?” 

Colonel Haley didn’t answer, instead withdrawing the restraints and glancing at Querl, an icy look in her eye. “Jacket off, and put your wrists on the arms of your chair,” was all she said.

“Since you’ve neglected to ask, I must inform you that I have quite high resistance to most psychoactive substances,” Querl told her as he removed his jacket, laying it over the back of his chair before assuming the position she had requested. He wondered, somewhat absently, whether Colonel Haley had gone to this extreme in all her interviews. He hadn’t taken the time to thoroughly read up on the laws regarding the administration of contraband substances during interrogations, but he had a firm suspicion that it was frowned upon in most circles. “There is a very thin line between drug efficacy and reaching blood toxicity in my particular case - so do be careful. I know Director Danvers is a doctor, but if you yourself are not well versed in treating overdoses, you might wish to have a medical team on standby.”

Colonel Haley said nothing, simply shooting him a disgusted look as she took the first restraint and wrapped it around his wrist, affixing it to the chair. Odd, that she hadn’t gone with the handcuffs, though he supposed perhaps she was trying to avoid obvious marks. The cuffs would definitely leave an impression if he tugged against them. The velcro seemed far less likely to leave any evidence. So perhaps she was hoping to keep this quiet, after all. On the one hand, Querl supposed he could make a fuss. But what good would it do? He had nothing to hide, after all, he genuinely didn’t know Supergirl’s identity, and he was fairly confident that Colonel Haley wouldn’t kill him, if for no other reason than it would be very annoying to try and find another technician in the middle of this crisis. 

“I’m not going to use anything that could damage your mind,” she said, still a bit too calm about discussing the myriad of illegal substances in her little black case. “After all, I need your memory intact and your technical skills, as you’ve reminded me, are essential to our operations.”

Querl nodded slowly, quite relieved not to be facing the florpelveria extract, or any of the other mind-altering drugs Colonel Haley had in stock. “I see. What will you be using, then?”

The corner of Colonel Haley’s mouth twitched as she tightened the second restraint, moving back to her side of the interrogation table and withdrawing one of the vials, the label of which had been facing away from him. “I trust you are familiar with Bismollian Tarantula venom?”

It took more effort that Querl was willing to expend to control the look of surprise that flashed across his features. Tarantula was a bit of a misnomer - whichever alien they had acquired this substance from must have chosen to refer to an Earth arachnid in trying to describe the creature. In reality, the comparison was somewhat like comparing a honeybee to an asian giant hornet. Kystryyka, if that is what Colonel Haley meant by “Bismollian Tarantula”, were heavily armored ten-legged monstrosities which could grow to the size of an average Earth golden retriever. Their bite was widely regarded as the most painful way to die, not only on the planet Bismoll, but in their entire quadrant of the galaxy. There were, of course, treatments to reverse the damage done by a kystryyka, but if medical attention was not sought within 12 hours, the prognosis was quite unfavorable. “You have the antivenom?” Querl asked, cautiously.

Colonel Haley nodded once, slowly. “The venom isn’t psychoactive,” she said, almost too casually, rolling the vial in her fingers. “It primarily affects the peripheral nervous system, activating pain receptors. Most people who die do so because of psychological distress, the venom itself is virtually harmless.”

“I am aware,” Querl answered, watching the vial roll across her fingers, noting the way his emotions, particularly fear, were beginning to grow unruly in his mind. Internally, he scooped them up and shoved them into one of his boxes. He didn’t have time to be dealing with it at the moment, and emotions weren’t going to help him. “I don’t know anything about Supergirl's identity,” he said softly, lifting his eyes from the vial to meet Colonel Haley’s dispassionate gaze.

“I think you do,” Colonel Haley replied, “I think you know quite a bit, actually.”

“Colonel Haley,” Querl tried to appeal to her sensibility, “If you use that venom, it would be considered torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. A human rights violation.”

Not a smile but rather a horrible facsimile of a smile crept across Colonel Haley’s features as she stared back at him, still calmly rolling the vial of venom between her fingers. “Why yes, Agent Dox, you are correct. It is a human rights violation.”

For a moment, Querl could almost feel his heart stutter to a stop. Surely she couldn’t mean it like that. The Alien Amnesty Act was still in effect, contested though it may be. He had submitted all the paperwork to ensure his citizenship, his files were completely above board, he was a loyal employee of the DEO, she couldn’t do this! 

...could she?

“Now, Agent Dox,” Colonel Haley continued, setting the venom down and plucking a syringe from the briefcase, “You have a choice to make. Are you going to cooperate, or do you need convincing?”

Querl understood, now, why she had used the restraints, as he tugged against them instinctively. “I am a loyal employee!” he protested, “You cannot - I already told you that I don’t know anything!”

Colonel Haley stood now, her voice sharp and angry. “And I told you that I don’t believe you, Agent Dox.” She was practically snarling as she took one of the sterile needles and attached it to the syringe. “Tell me what I want to know.”

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” Querl insisted frantically. His emotions were tumbling back out of the boxes and he was mentally scrambling, shoving his fear, resentment, bitterness, and mistrust wherever he could find space, his mind was scrambled, nothing was organized and he couldn’t seem to stop feeling, even though he needed nothing more than to be calm right now.  

With a disappointed look, Colonel Haley carefully inserted the needle into the vial of venom, withdrawing a small amount into the syringe. “I didn’t want to have to do this,” she said, as if she were scolding a child and not about to commit what amounted to a war crime. 

He was shaking now, throwing his weight against the chair. It was bolted to the floor, obviously, but he was well and truly working himself into a proper state of panic at this point, and so he continued to struggle. “Colonel Haley, please,” he begged. “Don’t do this, I really don’t know anything!” He was strong, stronger than the average human, and was beginning to suspect that perhaps these restraints had been favored over the handcuffs due to durability, too. He couldn’t get them to budge, no matter how hard he fought.

“I don’t believe you,” Colonel Haley said, looking vaguely irritated by his thrashing. “Convince me,” she intoned, carefully prepping the syringe, ensuring no air bubbles were contained within before turning to face him fully.

“Colonel Haley,” Querl pleaded, “Don’t do this. Please. Don’t.”

“Who is Supergirl?” Colonel Haley replied, calmly moving around the table.

“I don’t know!” Querl shouted.

“Will you help me find her identity?” Colonel Haley asked, voice cold, syringe in hand.

Querl froze. Sprock. “I… won’t.” he said softly. “No.”

“Then it appears you need convincing,” Colonel Haley answered. “Hold still.”

Querl had time to react, but what was the point? There was no escape. He’d made his choice, now he would have to live with the consequence. He sat still as she lifted his sleeve, jabbing the needle into the soft flesh of his upper arm. He could feel the venom as she carefully injected it - it burned a little going in. Then the burn began to spread, shocks like electricity dancing over his shoulder. A moment later, it felt as though his shoulder seized, like the worst muscle cramp he’d ever felt, but it kept getting worse. The pain had gone beyond unbearable and was now edging into incomprehensible. And it was spreading, the agony slowly trailing down his arm, nearing his elbow, easing across his shoulder, radiating into his chest, his back, his neck…

“Who is Supergirl?”

He didn’t know, he had no answer, he couldn’t reply, his jaw was clenched in an effort to hold back a scream.

“What is her identity?”

Querl felt dizzy - was he holding his breath? He must be holding his breath, if he exhaled it might come out as a shriek, did he even know how to breathe? The entire right side of his body was nothing but pain. He couldn’t sense anything beyond it, did he have a right arm? A right leg? It felt as though he was being dissolved in acid, but even then, the acid would deaden the nerves, eventually, this was like being dissolved in acid but regenerating at an equal rate. It hurt, it hurt, he couldn’t think like this, it was still going, his torso was screaming but his left leg was still okay, he could focus on that leg, try to shut out the rest of his body, but no, he could feel the prickle in his leg, soon he would have nowhere to hide from the agony, he couldn’t remember why this was even happening, time seemed to have lost all meaning, he could remember nothing, think nothing, all that existed was pain.

And suddenly, there was nothing. Querl breathed normally. Colonel Haley reached under his chin and lifted his head staring down at him, surprise in her eyes. “Agent Dox?” she said, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

He blinked back at her, trying to determine what had happened. It took him longer than it should have - he’d completely cut off access to his biological systems. His autonomic nervous system was still running, but he’d completely separated from it, cordoned off a small part of his mind that could only access his mechanical systems. It meant he no longer felt the pain, but he was also incapable of anything but the basic body functions that kept him alive. Also, running a system diagnostic, he noted that the pain was still affecting his body negatively. Even if he couldn’t sense it, here, his stress response was still spiking.

“Agent Dox, I have the antivenom,” Colonel Haley said, still holding his head aloft so she could look him in the eye. “But first I need to know Supergirl’s identity.”

I don’t know it, Querl thought. He couldn’t answer, though. He’d cut off access for a reason, if he went back to his body now, there was no guarantee he’d be able to respond anyway, given the pain he was currently experiencing.

“Listen to me, Agent Dox, I don’t like doing this, but she is a liability. I need to control her. You understand that, don’t you? Help me help you. Tell me what you know, and I will administer the antivenom.”

Querl sincerely wished he could throw her own words back in her face. I don’t believe you. If this was what she did to a loyal employee who opposed her, he didn’t want to know to what lengths she would go to control someone she saw as a threat. She could keep hurting him, sprock, she could let the venom kill him, if that’s what it took. He was never going to help her learn Supergirl’s true identity.

Colonel Haley watched him for another minute before dropping his head.

Querl didn’t have any way of controlling his body, so his head lolled against his chest, and all he could see were her boots. About two minutes later, his heart began to experience a concerning arrhythmia, likely due to the stress response the pain was causing. Perhaps Colonel Haley had used too high a dosage - of course, Querl had told her that he was resistant to psychoactive drugs. That didn’t extend to kystryyka venom, though he hadn’t thought to say so, as he’d thought it was obvious that kystryyka venom was not a psychoactive agent - she’d even noted as much herself. One bite’s worth of venom would have been sufficient. Querl hadn’t been able to spy the exact dosage, but he now suspected it was quite a bit more, or perhaps this was a concentrated form of the venom. Either way, he had a feeling that he had far less than twelve hours before his body would begin to suffer a life-threatening response to the venom.

As he thought it, his technical systems lit up frantically, dozens of error messages flooding his system. Grife, his heart had sprocking stopped, hadn’t it? He didn’t really have a choice, then, he had to brave the pain, Haley might not notice in time.

Oh sprock it hurt, his chest was on fire and it felt wrong. The wrongness was probably because the muscular organ was no longer beating, but the pain was definitely from the venom. Without blood flow, it wouldn’t spread any further, but it had already gone far enough to cause serious problems. “Heart,” Querl spat through clenched teeth, lifting his head, “stopped.” Black dots invaded his vision, soon pain would be the least of his worries. If he wasn’t resuscitated soon, he would experience brain damage. Even if it was only the biological part of his brain, it was so connected to his technical mind that the two really couldn’t function independently for any length of time.

That was the last thought he had for some time.

~

The first thing he noticed upon waking was that the pain had gone. The second thing he noticed was that he was still restrained.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Agent Dox,” Colonel Haley said. She didn’t sound pleased, but she also didn’t sound displeased. Mostly she sounded tired.

“I don’t know Supergirl’s identity,” Querl spat, “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I know,” Colonel Haley said. “You’re free to go, as soon as you can stand.” With that, she removed the restraints, packing them into her black case.

Querl ran a quick system diagnostic. It wasn’t great. He would need time to recover fully. But he was well enough to return to work. He wasn’t sure he could, though. Not for someone like Colonel Haley, who saw no problem with torture, so long as the person wasn’t human. But he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Alex needed him. Supergirl needed him. He’d find a way to keep going.

Rising quickly, Querl snatched up his jacket, still laid over the back of the chair, and stormed out. He’d barely exited before Alex was there, hurrying to walk beside him as he fled the interrogation room.

“Brainy, hey, are you okay?”

Querl wasn’t sure how to respond, how did one go about explaining something like this? He couldn’t talk here, he had to get away from the room with Colonel Haley still inside.

“I was once interrogated for eighteen straight days on the planet Venegar by Ik’Lofrai’iork, the emerald bloodeater,” he began, his voice strained.

Ik'Lofrai'iork was a true sadist, but even he hadn’t resorted to kystryyka venom. Though that was likely in part because he preferred hands-on torture. It had taken a few days for the Legion to realize he and his away team had been waylaid, several more days for them to find him and his teammates, and a few more days to mount a rescue. He and the three Legionnaires who had been captured with him had sampled quite a few torture methods in those eighteen days, and all four of them had required extensive reconstructive surgery afterwards, several months of recovery, and Querl really should still be going to therapy, like the rest of them were, though he’d managed to bribe his way into a clean bill of mental health. Being a Dox - a Brainiac - who appeared to struggle with mental health was seen by all as a liability, and Querl refused to be seen as such.

He turned to look at Alex, whose face was lined with concern, and he paused briefly. “And let me tell you, Colonel Haley,” here Querl pointed demonstratively back at the interrogation room, “would give that ten-eyed beast a run for his money.” With that, he resumed walking, still eager to leave this whole experience behind him.

“But you didn’t tell her anything, right?” Alex asked, concerned.

Querl paused at the junction of the hall, realizing that Alex wasn’t done speaking yet. He scratched his neck awkwardly, trying to scrub off some of the sweat that had soaked his hair during the encounter. “Eh, there was nothing to tell,” he said, slowly walking back down the hall towards Alex. “She just kept asking me about Supergirl’s identity.”

“So you used your brain compartmentalizing thing with Kara,” Alex said.

Querl frowned, not quite sure what she meant by that. “What does Kara have to do with anything?” he asked. They were talking about Supergirl’s identity, what did Alex’s sister have to do with that? Perhaps this was some other Earth custom that he’d managed to screw up.

“Is this permanent?” Alex asked, now sounding concerned. “Or are you going to remember that she’s Supergirl soon?”

Querl stared at her in absolute disbelief. “Kara?” he repeated, almost wondering if he had misheard. “Your sister, with the, the glasses?” he couldn’t suppress the amusement that followed that particular statement. It was absolutely ludicrous, he would have certainly noticed if Kara was Supergirl. “Good one, Director, they don’t even look anything-”

Suddenly, the small blank spot that had remained locked up in his mind resurfaced, all of the information and memories it contained rushing back to him, the code to refuse to recognize Kara and Supergirl’s faces as identical, all of it reverted back to normal and Querl was left feeling slightly dizzy. “Oh.” He frowned. “Yes, my compartmentalization was on a timer.”

“Okay,” Alex nodded, a relieved smile crossing her features before her phone rang. She glanced at it, then answered, “Kara, hey, what’s up?”

Querl pulled his jacket back on while she listened.

“Okay,” Alex hung up, then glanced at Querl. “I have to go,” she began. “Hey, uh, just… maybe sit down,” she suggested, patting him on the shoulder as she left.

Querl squeezed his eyes shut, blinking a few times as he considered the recommendation. He doubted it would do any good, but he really couldn’t think of anything else to do. With a sigh, he headed for the control room. Perhaps he’d be able to locate their missing Navy SEAL. He wasn’t confident, but then, quite a lot had shaken his confidence recently. Still, he had a job to do. Colonel Haley could think what she wanted, but Querl was determined to remain a loyal employee of the DEO. After all, it was how he could best support Supergirl, and he knew now, more than ever, that she was going to need all the help she could get.

#querl dox #brainy #brainiac 5 #alex danvers #DEO #supergirl #fanfic #my fic

[emgemwritesthings]

Chapter 3: A Case of Problems...

To read from the start: A03

Story summary: After Magnum and Higgins disappear while working on a case, Rick and T.C call Katsumoto to help them find them. Things quickly get out of hand as they try to find and rescue their friends.

Chapter 3 Summary: Magnum and Higgins try to get themselves out of the mess they have gotten themselves into.

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

After the man had come in with the tray of syringes, he had left without saying another word. Not knowing what the liquid inside them was and not wanting to find out Magnum went back to trying to find a way to free himself and get over to Higgins who had still not shown any signs of waking up any time soon.

After what felt like hours of plotting for a way to escape was soon rudely interrupted by the metallic clang of a door opening and closing, the sound echoing through what he now believed to be a warehouse.

This time the man was not alone, but with a group of eight or nine other men. They all spread out across the room two going to stand in front of a door while the others started to do different tasks. As the men started to load the packages into crates, the man he assumed was the leader of this warehouse and another man approach him.

Once they had come further into the light of the room he could see that the second man was in fact Danny Mannes, the man they had been hired to search for. He thinks about trying to use this to leverage him and Higgins out of this situation but quickly decides against it. The possibility of putting Danny’s wife Louise in danger wasn’t worth it, they would find out another way to get out, hopefully with Danny.

“I hope after being left with some time to think that you have come to your senses. Now tell us what you and your partner know about our operation here.” He asks with a smirk.

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you. I’m not really in the talkative mood.” Magnum says smugly looking up at the two men in front of him.

The man doesn’t respond to his snarky comment as he looks at Danny saying something to quiet for Thomas to hear. Danny then strolls away from them over to the other chair before slapping Higgins across the face the sound echoing through the building. She startles awake looking frantically around the room before she is able to compose herself as she begins to register where she is. Her eyes search the room before locking on Magnum who was shouting at the two men in front of them.

“Hey! Get away from her! Let’s just talk ok! Now leave her alone!” Magnum shouted as he pulled against his restraints.

“Calm down Magnum, I’m fine.” Juliet says interrupting his rant with a groan and shutting him up in the prosses.

“Now would you mind explaining what we can do for you?” She says sternly staring directly into the eyes of the man who just slapped her.

“Very simple, we want information. We want to know, what you know.” The man says walking closer to them to stand next to Danny.

“What do you want to know?” She responds cautiously.

“What do you know about Caan, this operation and what have you told HPD?” The man asks

“All we know is that you work for Caan, nothing else.” Higgins tells them glancing over at Magnum.

“And HPD?” Danny asks leaning over her.

“They know nothing on the matter and if you let us go it will stay that way, I assure you.” She says confidently staring into the eyes of the man who they had been hired to find.

“You know what? I don’t think I believe that.” Danny says looking back to the other man before spinning around and punching her. His fist making contact with her cheek bone

“Hey! Back off! She’s not lying to you!” Thomas shots once again struggling against his restraints.

Now knowing Danny was willingly working for the drug dealer, he knew that they would be leaving him behind and have to explain to Louise what happened. Magnum grimaces at the thought of that conversation.

“HPD has nothing to do with this, no one else is involved with the case, and it can stay that way. You let us go and you won’t hear from us again.” Magnum continues trying his best to keep his composure.

He knows it’s a long shot and they are unlikely to listen, but it is the only option they really have left. No one knows where they are and with no other way of getting free, this may be their only option to get out of this.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” The man in charge says walking over to Thomas a sick smirk forming on his face.

‘Well there goes that plan’ Magnum thinks to himself as he runs over their options in his head. It was obvious that no matter what they told them, that they wouldn’t believe them. Glancing over at Jules he can tell she has also come to the same conclusion, that they were stuck here.

“How about a compromise? You let us go and maybe we could get you guys a deal with HPD?” Magnum suggests not knowing what else he can do.

“Not Happening.” The first man answers not a second later.

“Yeah, nice try though.” Danny says as they both step away from the two captives.

“Now for the last time. What have you told HPD, we know you are both close with the Detective so don’t bother lying, it’ll only make things worse for yourselves.” The man tells them with a dark look.

'This is not going to end well' Magnum thinks to himself.

#magnum pi #thomas magnum #juliet higgins #gordon katsumoto #rick wright #theodore calvin #fanfic #fanfiction

[inaspyn-blog]

“Are you Dr. Perez?”

We met on Wednesday, October 23rd.

I was in class, holding downward-facing dog. As I stared at the wall between my legs and behind me, I heard him come in and set up his mat on my left side. But, in that moment I didn’t realize it was him.

It was only a few poses later - facing my left - that I looked forward to see him. And my. Jaw. Hit. The. Floor. Was... that...? No. Just, no. There was no way. There was no way in hell it was him! (Except it was, and I knew it was). But, still, what?!

It was Dr. Perez (name changed). From the hospital.

I first met him over the summer. I was completing my summer nursing externship, and the externship involved four weeks of shadowing a nursing assistant, followed by four weeks shadowing a registered nurse.

This was during the second half. We were in the process of discharging a patient, and Dr. Perez was the attending. I recalled standing in the room, looking out the door to see him standing in the doorway - talking with the nurse. I could only see him from the distance. He had a dark, undercut hairstyle. Lean figure. Long white coat, form-fitting pants, and classy dress shoes. That’s all I could make out from where I stood.

By the time I left the room, he was nowhere to be found, but the nurse said, “That doctor was really nice.”

I didn’t see him again until months later. By this point, my externship was completed, but I had been offered a permanent position on that same floor I precepted on. At this point my position went right back to that of a nursing assistant. I helped patients with ADLs, obtaining vital signs for the nurses, and responding to call lights. One of the patients in particular was a ninety-some year old woman who had lost her mind possibly years before. In the middle of my attempt to feed her lunch one early afternoon, she nearly tore herself out of her hospital restraints and began SCREECHING at the top of her lungs at me. She threatened to kill me and the rest of the staff. And the nurse, in a panic, called the physician in order to get something ordered to calm the patient. Only moments later, Dr. Perez was arriving to physically assist us in squirting a liquid form of medication into her mouth in an attempt to knock her old cold.

Five of us (nursing personnel) stood outside the door alongside Dr. Perez to gown up in blue isolation gowns. After a nurse made reference to the patient having pulled out their foley catheter (balloon still inflated, mind you), they jokingly asked Perez about replacing it. He joked about needing a penlight to flash into the “black hole” in order to even see at this point. I jokingly pulled out my penlight, offering it to the group.

The next thing I remember is standing at the foot of the bed, watching as the other nurses physically restrained the patient. The nurse assigned to the patient stood on the patient’s left side, syringe in hand and ready to administer the medication. Perez stood on the patient’s right side, facing the patient with his back partially turned to me. His white coat was incredibly form-fitting, along with the tight pants he was wearing underneath.

On the count of three, we each held down a limb, the nurse squirted the medication into the patient’s mouth before closing it shut, and Dr. Perez plugged the patients nose. That was all I remember.

Moments later, as I stood against a wall in the hallway while charting into the computer-on-wheels, he walked past to leave the floor.

“It work,” was all he said to me. His broken English was a thing of beauty.

All throughout the remainder of the yoga class, I glanced over at him with every chance that I could. Do I say something after? Or will I come across creepy?

The class ended, and everyone began rolling up their mats. As I had my mat rolled up, wheel placed away, and was headed for the door, I realized I was going to have to walk right past him. In a last-minute decision, I stopped, standing nearly over him as he remained kneeling on the ground rolling up his mat.

“Are you Dr. Perez?” I asked.

He immediately looked up at me, smiled, and simultaneously reached out his hand to me while asking, “Don’t you work at [the hospital]?”

I leaned forward, grasping his hand to shake, while nodding my head and saying, “Yes, I work on [X floor]!”

At this point, he stood up and walked over to the coat racks with me, while carrying on conversation. I honestly can’t remember what was said, nor the order they were said in. I told him about the patient he helped us with. I told him she ended up coming right back to life and punching the nurse straight in the chest moments after he left the floor. He laughed, responding with “I try to Geodon all my patients,” to which I laughed at.

He asked me if I was also a nursing student, which I said yes to. He recommended I come work in the PCU once I graduate. I told him I had my sights set on the TSICU. He asked if I planned to travel. I said yes, I’d love to but need the experience. I told him I hated it here, that I miss the big city. He asked if I was from this area, and I told him no, I was from Detroit. He went on to tell me he’s from Lima, Peru, which is also a huge city. He said he misses it, too. I told him about my friend back in MI who is also from Lima. She always told me to go and see the city one day, to try the ceviche, and to see the beautiful views along the ocean.

I can’t recall how long we talked for, but it must have been at least 10-15 minutes, as the next class began and we suddenly realized that we were the only two people left in the studio from the class before.

We rushed into the lobby of the studio, which at this point was completely dark (all the lights shut out) and nobody at the front desk. I watched as he put on his shoes, and I went to put on mine. I made a joke about how white shoes are supposedly considered “low class” in Peru, as told to me by my friend. He laughed, looked at my shoes, and told me that that’s not necessarily true; that it’s more-so related to the pollution in Peru. He said that anything white will slowly become stained due to the air pollution.

We walked out to the parking lot. His car, which happened to be an incredibly souped-up, gray Mercedes Benz, was directly outside the studio’s door. My car was in the lot in the back. We paused, as he clearly held on to me for conversation. He asked me again which floor I was on at the hospital, which I told him. I then went on to say that I wouldn’t be back until the end of November for a shift, considering that I hardly ever work anymore with nursing school taking up all my time.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” He asked. Considering his broken English, I wondered if he misunderstood what I just said and was asking if I’d be back at the hospital the next day.

“No, I don’t work until November 29th,” I repeated.

“Here,” he said, “Are you back to class tomorrow?”

Oooooooooooooooh.

“Ah, unfortunately I don’t know yet,” I responded. “I have a ton of clinical paperwork to do for school, including a care plan.”

“Oh, gross!” He responded, jokingly. “I remember those days! So glad to be done with school!”

We farewelled each other a good night, and I walked back to my car. I watched from my rear-view mirror as he backed his car out and left. I wondered when the next time I’d see him would be.

[max-myself-and-i]

I’m Coming: Part 2 (Clint x Reader, Soulmate AU)

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Words: 903

Content/Warnings: Soulmate AU, Kidnapping, Needles (nothing graphic)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: At some point, everyone starts projecting thoughts back and forth to their soulmate. The reader has been chatting with theirs since age sixteen, but Clint Barton doesn’t want anyone using his soulmate against him so he has never told them his name. That whole plan falls apart the day HYDRA figures out who they are.

You can’t come, you projected to him. They only took me to get to you. You started to cry while you thought it. The two men had left soon after announcing their intentions, leaving you with your fear. Something told you they would be back, though, and that their plans for you weren’t limited to you rotting in this box. Do you hear me Hawkeye? If you come for me they’ll kill you.

Like hell they will, you heard. Also, we’ve been sharing thoughts over half our lives, I think you can call me Clint.

Clint. Finally, a name for the presence that was always with you.

In that case, it’s Y/N

I’m not going to leave you, Y/N. They should never have involved you in this, and I’m going to make sure they know it.

---

You must have drifted off as the hours dragged on, because you woke up to the sound of key in lock, and the squeaking of your cell door. Neither of the men from before were present, only two masked guards who did not speak. One detached your restraints from the wall and each grabbed one of your arms, starting to drag you down the hall. You kept a running narration of everything you saw to Clint, knowing that what you saw was all he would have to go on when looking for you.

No windows. It looks like this hall is just full of cells like mine. Or at least the doors look the same.

You were dragged into what looked like a chemistry lab, walls and trays covered in instruments, vials, and computers. The shorter man from before was waiting there and gestured for the guards to put you in a nearby chair.

Y/N? What’s going on?

They’re strapping me into a chair. I don’t like this Clint, I really don’t.

Once you were strapped in by the arms, ankles, and waist, the man in charge nodded at the guards to dismiss them, and you were left alone with him.

“I’m sure you’ve been reporting all of this to Mr. Barton, I would expect nothing less.” The man picked up a vial off the tray next to you and began to fill a syringe with it. “Unfortunately for you both, I can’t have you tattling to him about everything we do, or he would certainly have the upper hand when he arrives.”

Clint? What does that mean? What does that fucking mean? What is he going to do to me, Clint? He wiped off the crook of your elbow with alcohol that chilled your skin and, without giving you time to process what was happening, slid the needle under your skin.

I don’t know, I’m sorry, I don’t know. You could almost hear him crying now. There was only one way either of you knew to break the mental soulmate connection, and that was the death of one partner. The plunger on the syringe was all the way down now, and you let out a sob while the man removed it from your arm.

“It may take a few hours to get through your whole system. Say goodbye while you can.”

No no no no no, you could still hear him, panicking as badly as you were. I’m so sorry Y/N, I never wanted this to happen, I tried so hard to keep you safe, I’m sorry.

I know you did, Clint, this isn’t your fault. You hear me? And don’t you dare get yourself killed coming after these people.

Like hell. I’ll track down every last person who set foot in that base and kill them. They’re trying to lure me to my death by making me angry, and that will be the worst mistake of their tiny disgusting lives I swear --

Clint. CLINT. STOP. It was even worse than you expected. I can’t… I can’t hear you very well. You’re fading out. Please don’t leave me alone, please. But his voice is fuzzy in your head now, and your own thoughts were as clear as ever. Too late to tell him, you realized you weren’t dying. These people had far worse plans for you.

---

Y/N? Y/N!? If Clint had been screaming out loud he would have lost his voice. They were gone. The presence that had lived alongside his own mind for years had vanished. Too deep in shock to think straight, he let auto pilot take over. In a moment his phone was in his hand, Steve’s number dialing on the screen.

“Barton? I don’t think you’ve ever called me before.” Steve’s calm voice grounded Clint enough that he could explain.

“I, I need help,” His voice came out hoarse, and he realized that he hadn’t spoken out loud since you went missing. “They found them, my soulmate, HYDRA I think. I, I can’t hear them Steve, I can’t reach them anymore.” There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

“Get to the tower. I’ll get everyone I can reach.” The line went dead. Hands shaking, Clint lowered the phone. Having been part deaf most of his adult life, he was comfortable with quiet, but the silence in his mind was unbearable.

Clint moved through his apartment, grabbing the essentials as though he never intended to return. Jacket, phone, bow, shoes. He looked around the place one last time with a sigh. He wouldn’t be back until he knew exactly what had happened to you, and hunted down every person responsible.

---

Taglist: @thoughtsofdarc @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @whatisanniedoin @wefracturedmotivation @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @dragonluver9393 @xanaphorax

#clint x reader #clint barton x reader #soulmate au #hawkeye #hawkeye x reader #marvel x reader #I'm coming #max-myself-and-i #Avengers #marvel #avengers fic

[sandlerresearch]

Injection Molding Machine Market by Machine Type (Hydraulic, All-Electric and Hybrid), Clamping Force (0-200, 201-500 and Above 500),Product Type (Plastic, Rubber, Metals), End-Use Industry (Automotive, Packaging) and Region - Global Forecast to 2025 published on

https://www.sandlerresearch.org/injection-molding-machine-market-by-machine-type-hydraulic-all-electric-and-hybrid-clamping-force-0-200-201-500-and-above-500product-type-plastic-rubber-metals-end-use-industry-automotiv.html

Injection Molding Machine Market by Machine Type (Hydraulic, All-Electric and Hybrid), Clamping Force (0-200, 201-500 and Above 500),Product Type (Plastic, Rubber, Metals), End-Use Industry (Automotive, Packaging) and Region - Global Forecast to 2025

“Growing demand from the healthcare industry”

The injection molding machine market is projected to reach USD 12.3 billion by 2025, at a CAGR of 3.6% from USD 10.3 billion in 2020. Plastic molds are widely used in the healthcare industry.  Injection molding machines are preferred for manufacturing medical products, as these machines offer high precision, accurate, and complex injection molded parts. These machines have applications in surgical and medical devices such as syringes, vials, medical instruments, inhalers, cannulated, medicinal connectors, air systems, and prescription bottles. The outbreak of coronavirus across the globe has highlighted the healthcare industry. Due to an explosive surge in the number of Covid-19 cases, the demand for medical equipment like syringes, air systems, and other medical instruments increased exponentially. Countries such as India and China, became the hub for manufacturing and meeting the demand for all these equipment across the globe.

“201-500 Tons Force is projected to grow at highest CAGR, by clamping force, during the forecast period”

The 201–500 ton-force segment accounted for the largest market share in terms of value, in 2019 and is projected to register the highest CAGR during the forecast period. This high growth is attributed to the rising demand for medium-sized molded parts from major end-use industries such as automotive, packaging, and consumer goods. The clamping force of 201–500 ton-force is mainly used in medium-sized  injection molding machines. Machine types such as hydraulic, all-electric, and hybrid are available in 201–500 ton-force. These machines are mainly used for applications in the automotive, packaging, and consumer goods industries, where relatively medium-sized molded parts are required

“Plastic product type is projected to grow at highest CAGR, during the forecast period”

The injection molding machine market for plastic products accounted for the largest in terms of value, in 2019. Injection molding is the manufacturing process for making plastic parts and products from thermoplastics and thermosetting materials. Commonly used plastic in the injection molding process is nylon, polypropylene, polystyrene, polyethylene, and unsaturated polyesters. Plastic products are manufactured using high-quality raw materials that ensure their superior quality. The injection molding process for plastic products involves heating the polymer until it is liquid and then using pressure to force it into the mold. The process is very fast and complicated. In spite of expensive tooling cost, injection molding is the most popular manufacturing process for the mass production of plastic materials. Injection molding machines are used to produce various plastic products such as power-tool housing, telephone handsets, electrical switches, car bumpers, dashboards, syringes, disposable razors, and bottle lids/closures.

“Hydraulic injection molding machine is the largest machine type for injection molding machine market in 2019”

Hydraulic injection molding machine is the most popular machine type, primarily because of its long service life and a wide range of applications. The hydraulic injection molding machine consists of a fixed-speed, three-phase motor, and a variable-volume pump. Hydraulic injection molding machines have a long life, far drive distance, and low maintenance cost. This type of machine helps in a significant reduction of production cycle time. Molders mainly use high-tonnage hydraulic machines for molding large parts. This machine is mainly used for producing high precision plastic components such as automotive parts, caps & closers, consumer goods, electrical & electronics goods, and medical items.

“Automotive is estimated to be the largest end-use industry in injection molding machine market between 2020 and 2025.”

Injection molding machines are predominantly used in manufacturing automotive components, interior wrapping, and assembly parts, such as automotive exteriors, car lenses, interior components, under-the-hood components, and filter components. A strong shift in the use of plastics instead of iron and steel in the automotive industry is expected to drive the injection molding machine market during the forecast period. Stringent government regulations have forced automotive manufacturers to use plastics instead of other materials such as iron and steel. Rapid economic growth, improved infrastructure, and rising middle-class population in emerging economies have led to an increase in vehicle production and sales, which, in turn, increase the demand for injection molding machines. The rapidly growing automotive industry in APAC is also one of the major factors driving the injection molding machine market.

“APAC is expected to be the largest injection molding machine market during the forecast period, in terms of value and volume.”

The APAC comprises major emerging nations such as China and India. Hence, the scope for the development of most industries is high in this region. The injection molding machine market is growing significantly and offers opportunities for various manufacturers. The APAC region constitutes approximately 61.0% of the world’s population, and the manufacturing and processing sectors are growing rapidly in the region. The APAC is the largest injection molding machine market with China being the major market which is expected to grow significantly. The rising disposable incomes and rising standards of living in emerging economies in the APAC are the major drivers for this market.

The increasing population in the region accompanied with development of new technologies and products are projected to make this region an ideal destination for the growth of the injection molding machine market. However, establishing new plants, implementing new technologies, and creating a value supply chain between raw material providers and manufacturing industries in the emerging regions of the APAC are expected to be a challenge for industry players as there is low urbanization and industrialization. Booming automotive, consumer goods and packaging sectors and advances in process manufacturing are some of the key drivers for the market in the APAC. Countries such as India, Indonesia, and China are expected to witness high growth in the injection molding machine market due to the increasing demand from the automotive industry.

In the process of determining and verifying the market size for several segments and subsegments identified through secondary research, extensive primary interviews were conducted. A breakdown of the profiles of the primary interviewees are as follows:

By Company Type: Tier 1 – 30%, Tier 2 – 43%, and Tier 3 – 27%

By Designation: C-Level – 21%, Director Level – 23%, and Others – 56%

By Region: North America – 30%, Europe – 18%, APAC – 41%, South America  and Middle East & Africa – 11%,

The key market players profiled in the report include Haitian International Holdings Limited (China), Chen Hsong Holdings Limited (China), Sumitomo Heavy Industries Ltd. (Japan), Engel Austria GmbH (Austria), Hillenbrand, Inc. (US), and others. They are continuously undertaking developmental strategies such as expansions, new product launches, acquisitions, and contracts & agreements to strengthen their position in the injection molding machine market.

Research Coverage

This report segments the market for injection molding machine market on the basis of machine type, clamping force, product type, end-use industry, and region, and provides estimations for the overall value of the market across various regions. A detailed analysis of key industry players has been conducted to provide insights into their business overviews, products & services, key strategies, new product launches, expansions, and mergers & acquisitions associated with the market for injection molding machine market.

Reasons to buy this report

This research report is focused on various levels of analysis — industry analysis (industry trends), market ranking analysis of top players, and company profiles, which together provide an overall view on the competitive landscape; emerging and high-growth segments of the injection molding machine market; high-growth regions; and market drivers, restraints, opportunities, and challenges.

The report provides insights on the following pointers:

Market Penetration: Comprehensive information on injection molding machine market offered by top players in the global  injection molding machine market

Product Development/Innovation: Detailed insights on upcoming technologies, research & development activities, and new product launches in the injection molding machine market

Market Development: Comprehensive information about lucrative emerging markets — the report analyzes the markets for injection molding machine market across regions

Market Diversification: Exhaustive information about new products, untapped regions, and recent developments in the global injection molding machine market

Competitive Assessment: In-depth assessment of market shares, strategies, products, and manufacturing capabilities of leading players in the injection molding machine market

Impact of COVID-19 on injection molding machine market

#Chemicals

[wellmeaningshutin]

War!

Written: 3/12/2018, by S. Sparrow

A nurse leaves the operating room to obtain a much needed item that she never found, because, when she walked out of the room, a bullet had wasted no time and created two parallel holes in her neck, which began to drain itself of blood. Trying to scream, but unable to find her voice, she slumps against the door and uses her two hands to plug the two holes, which causes blood to spill between her fingers. Weak, she is unable to keep her balance and falls into the dirt, the back of her head first, shortly followed by her back, while her legs rest there, already grounded. Lying in the dirt, she is able to use her legs to repeatedly kick the door, causing another nurse to walk out, only for the sniper to make up for his previous miss by boring a bullet into the new nurse’s skull. Writhing on the ground, the first nurse decides that the sniper is keeping her alive as a means of luring more people into his field of vision, so she decides to relax and wait for death. Coldness greets her right leg, she tries to look up, and she sees blood pooling towards her, and she vainly attempts to keep her legs out of the pool, to die with dignity.

A butcher’s boy meets a middle school math teacher in an open field, they both exchange greetings from their guns as they rush towards each other, but neither is looking down the barrel, bullets sink into dirt and wood, and both hope that the other would be intimidated and flee, so as to avoid combat. The boy is lucky enough to get a round into the teacher’s knee, dropping him, but his magazine is empty while the teacher’s still has enough rounds to celebrate a new year. His one shot, point blank, is enough to mangle the boy’s intestines, and the boy responds by mashing the side of the teacher’s head with the butt of his gun. Both dropping, they begin to crawl over each other, trying to grab each other’s knife, due to convenience. The teacher stick’s a finger into the wound of the boy who never had a chance to achieve anything more than being born into a butcher’s family, and the boy winces in pain, causing him to grab the teacher with every limb, causing the teachers arm to be stuck, his finger unable to leave the moist little hole that it had previously created by squeezing a trigger. Eventually, the boy fingers find the teacher’s knife, and uses it the way his father taught him, wildly, brutally, focused on severing, not stopping, so the teacher screams as the boy hacks an arm loose, a desperate and confused attempt to remove the finger from the wound. A mountain climber, a baker, and a coal miner stumble onto the scene, free the teacher, and send two bullets through each of the boy’s eyes.

An athlete with promise finds their hands chained to a metal bar that lies, waiting, above his head, his feet try to tap the floor, just to give his arms at least a second of relief. When a toe manages to touch, he is once again hit in the back by some flat, blunt object. It hurts like hell, and he worries that the lack of actual damage will allow them to keep beating him, but he also isn’t sure why they’re beating him, or who is beating him. Everyone speaks in what he assumes is the language of the enemy, its foreign to him, and that’s proof enough. It is unclear if they’re trying to ask him questions while they use force to make him sway, to make his cuffs jingle against the bar, to replace any natural coloring on his back with an artificial array of browns, yellows, and purples, with the occasional red. A car salesman comes into the room with a car battery and wires, and the athlete wonders if this will make him a hero.

A sculptor wonders through a forest, hoping that he can exit the forest, hoping that he’ll be able to find some sign of his people that will allow him to return to safety. Traveling at night has become the norm for him, strange men have appeared in the woods, driving their wrongly colored jeeps, better armed than he, especially since he was only armed with a 9mm pistol that was sparsely loaded, since he had to rely on it to provide him with food. The previous night involved him sinking three bullets to get one rabbit, which he ate raw, which he split open with his knife and dug into with his teeth, like a dog going at a bag of chips. Fires weren’t worth the smoke, gunfire was safe when the mortars crash around him. Sometimes he studies the road, trying to figure out if the jeeps were heading towards their own space, or are going away from their own space. Which direction had he come from? When he had first fled into the woods, when he saw the journalist get a grenade in her stomach, a perfect throw that had caused her insides to exit through her backside. He had seen the lumberjack’s brains, the severed hand of the “next Hemingway”, the crater that, only moments before, was a patch of grass where the fisherman, the salesman, and the high school class president stood. So he went into the woods, hoping to prevent a similar example being made of him. Sometimes he would fantasize about leaving the woods, only to hear that the violence was over, but he knew such fantasies were dangerous.

A delivery boy sits in the hot safety that the tank provides, fantasizing about another delivery boy, just like him, but the race of the enemy, sitting in some other tank, thinking about him.

A doctor listens to a construction worker explain his “first screw”, while waiting for his nurse to prepare the morphine. He was never one to stand around and soak in recollections of rape, but the man had a decorated chest, and he had earned the privilege of his last words being heard. “Girls back home, damn, that’s how you make women, not like here, not like here. Girls don’t fight here, no sir, they just stare at you with those doll eyes as they sink into wherever it is inside of them that they go to. I’d say that the soul leaves their body, but they don’t have souls, no way, not just cause of how strange their ways are, but because they don’t fight back. That’s what”, pausing to spit blood into a nearby dish, continuing with shining red lips and teeth, “what makes our girls so special, they fight. They’re pure as they come, and they wont let big beasts like me take them over so easily. Why, that’s how you can tell that a girl has value, if she fights or not, and it doesn’t matter if she screws, it matters if she doesn’t want to, that’s how you can evaluate purity. I remember”, a genuine, sunshine smile beaming across his face as the doctor waits, “the first girl that I had had managed to fuck up my back with a razor that she kept with her, who knows why, and I remember”, laughing that hollow, rattling laugh, “I stood up, put my hands on my back, and kicked the shit out of her. Oh boy, she was so fucked up that, by the time I finished, I was worried that I accidentally put her face down in, well she was bleeding badly, and I didn’t want her to drown, you can’t do that to those kinds of girls.” The nurse approached with a syringe in hand. A barber had to explain to the eagle scout that his last friend, a shoe salesman, had his body juiced by a collapsing building, and the one before that, a gambler, was currently dead or in some camp, so he wasn’t exactly in the market for having friends. Yet, the two of them were the only ones holding down the post, and the scout was determined to befriend the barber, since it was the only minor achievement available. After several days, the eagle scout had successfully been burned alive, had desperately tried to escape the flames that clung to him, had struggled as his lungs filled with smoke, as the post burned around him. So, then, the barber chose not to explain himself to the mall cop, who assumed that the barber was just a quiet type, making them the type of friends that didn’t need to talk to be close, whose company was enough. After a week of silence, the mall cop mentioned his idea of their relationship to the barber, who was immediately angry, causing him to stew in silence, leaving the mall cop, a week later, to still think that they were friends while the machete hacked and hacked, hoping to replace a segment of neck with air. The barber then ended up with the dry cleaner, who didn’t give a shit about the barber, who only wanted to go home. Naturally, the barber liked this cold companion, and eventually opened up to him, unsolicited and intoxicated, about his life before the violence, something he had never told his revolving cast of friends. The dry cleaner hardly listened, but when the barber stated his past profession, the companion had to ask why he became a soldier, instead of a barber, the barber could only make some vague statement about honor, one repeated enough times, to himself, for it to lose any sense of meaning.

A proud grandson finds himself strapped to a board, fabric over his face, water pouring over him for what feels like eternity, an unending lifetime of drowning. The water stops, he tries to catch his breath, but more comes, he body tries to spasm, is desperate to escape, but the restraints are good at what they do. Another breath, another pouring, another breath, and so on, until he has trouble remembering how he got there, what his life was like before the airless hell he is subjected to, and the only memory he can grab a hold of is the moment when he told his grandfather, a decorated veteran, that he had signed up to do his duty, and the way that his grandfather cackled at him.

A truck driver sits in the hot safety that the tank provides, fantasizing about another truck driver, just like him, but the race of the enemy, sitting in some other tank, thinking about him.

A historian and a street youth comb the fresh rubble of a former, thriving community. “Go through and salvage what you can, get weapons, bullets, whatever you think is valuable.” The youth digs through one spot, finds the corpse of a crossing guard, wearing the outfit of the enemy, and the historian says, “Don’t touch him, now look for something else.” When the youth scrambles away, the poet moves to the ex-person and places an IED under it. After he is commanded to move twice, the youth understands his purpose, and starts to pocket what really interests him, a burned photograph of a woman that only has her legs and slit left, an ivory comb, a small figurine that represents some folklore figure, either benevolent or a trickster, and, of course, bullets. An addict shoots that black, vinegar smelling, crap into his arm, and is able to lie back and feel good. He was worried that the violence would take away from his favored activity, especially since he was in a foreign country, but then he learned that foreigners get high too. The first time he copped, he was told that a lot of people like him usually start using to avoid their problems, to relax their consciouses, but he didn’t believe it, he was a killer with killers killing killers, what problems were there? Back home he had to worry about making it day by day, but now death is assured, so he didn’t know what there was to worry about. Death isn’t scary if you feel good when it happens, he reasoned, so he was always high. He liked to say that he had track marks for every friend that he lost, but he only said it to himself, he had nobody to say it to. He was pleased that he ended up in a beautiful country, he liked to stare at the country side. Sometimes he forgot about the violence, and that would stress him out, because it made him feel bad for being an addict.

“They got me in the stomach, didn’t they?” “Its not that bad, its fine.” “Its never fine if its the stomach, I don’t, I’m not going to make it with this one.” “We’ll be back to base soon, the doctor will-” “Oh, that fucker had his brains blown out in a whorehouse.” “What?” “The day after you left, he goes into town and gets blown twice.” “So who is the current doctor?” “What does it matter, I’m as good as-” “Fuck, okay, don’t worry, I wont drop you again.” “Fucking-” “I wont do it again, I promise.” “Look here, see this, where is it, oh, oh can you-” “Do you need me to-” “Yeah, get this button open for me, my fingers can’t get a grip, they keep slipping-” “Don’t worry, I have it-” “In the end I can’t, can’t even open a damn pocket. Okay, now reach inside, get out the photograph that’s in there.” “Here.” “No, don’t give it to me, its not for me, I want you to take it.” “Why, who is this?” “She was my steady back home, now she’s yours.” “What?” “I’m dying here, I’m going to die looking up at this fucking sky. What kind of sky is this anyways? Not like the one I grew up with, its all wrong, its too bright, its-” “You’re going to make it, we aren’t far-” “But my, fuck, my fucking, I’m ripped open, I’m cold, I need you to stop lying and listen to me. You’re a good man, I can tell that by the way that you won’t be honest to me. I know that I’m probably worse than I think I am, especially since, eh, especially since you keep looking at me that way. I can see the shock behind your eyes. Now, since your a good man, I know you’ll survive the war, and when you do I’ll need you to marry my girl. I want you to go, to, to, turn the picture over, there’s an address.” “I have to carry you, let’s just focus on getting-” “I want to say this before the pain successfully silences me, you have to listen. I need you to go to that address, explain you story, and I need you to put a good fuck into her. I need you to be her man, because I can’t guarantee that she’ll pick right. She picked me the first time and now you need to go there and fuck her brains out so that she’ll appreciate you.” “Look-” “And I’ll be watching on the other side-” “We’re almost-” “I’ll want to see you inside of her-” “I can see the gate, its-” “I just want to see her have an orgasm, I never got to see that before.” “I’m going to put you down now.” “You need to treat her right.”

A tailor sprints across a field, pushing his body to its limits, willing to break something if that means that he can keep running, if he can keep the jeep behind it. He ran over the hill knowing that there would be a forest on the other side, knowing that he could escape into there, where the murderers wouldn’t follow due to a lack of ammo, one that was made clear by their lack of gunfire, their resignation to using the car as a weapon. However, when he was over the hill, the tailor saw that craters had claimed land that had previously belonged to the forest, that he still had a long ways to go. He also discovered that the jeep, like him, had an easier time going downhill than uphill, and he decided, too late, to jump out of its way, into the safety of the mortar’s kiss, but his legs were ground under the tires of the jeep, which, after passing him, tried to circle around, and drive up the hill at him, but the driver was too bloodthirsty, and his recklessness caused him to crash into a crater. Jeep on its side, the tailor tried to crawl, but his legs screamed at him as he dragged them across the rocks and dirt, so he started to lie there, hoping that the other men were dead, that help would come. Out of a demolition ditch came one man, bleeding from an ear, but generally healthy, and the man, a carnival worker, walked uphill towards the tailor, who caused the car to flip by his pathetic will to live, who was now throwing stones at the carny, stones that were to weakly thrown to be a threat, stones that meekly rolled down the dirt after a seconds freedom from the surface. At least one of these stones was able to get the carnival worker’s nose to match his ear, and, in response, the carny’s knife removed any sense of humanity, lips, nose, ears, hair, teeth, tongue, eyes, skin, from the tailor’s face.

A washed up news anchor sits in the hot safety that the tank provides, fantasizing about another washed up nobody, just like him, but the race of the enemy, sitting in some other tank, thinking about him.

Two fathers share a cell, neither is from the same place, neither speaks with the same sounds. Eventually, conditions make them desperate to form a small human connection, small enough to not bring pain, so, every night, they spoon each other, not knowing that they have much more in common than a situation.

A shepherd returns to his home after several days, after the birds signal to him that all life, good or bad, is no longer present. When the wreckage is finally in his field of vision, he doesn’t cry, he is shocked by how little he feels like crying, even more so than the destruction shocks him. When he was on his own, he had pictured his home as being much worse, he had pictured blood and gore everywhere, murdered sheep, disemboweled children, babies that had been divided by bayonets, beheaded women that had blood coming out of their privates, but there was none of that, it was mostly just rubble. As he stood on top of what he assumed was the school, although it could easily be ten other buildings, due to a lack of variation in architecture, he surveyed the scene and saw nothing but rubble, ash, and dirt that had been flung around. For a minute, he wondered if he was really gone for a couple days, or if he had been gone for a lot longer, it seemed like the violence had not been around for some time, but the birds still watched as he watched, so he knew that it had to be fresh. When he was finally able to accept that, yes, this mess was in fact the place where he was born and raised, where his father lived, and his father before, and his father before, and so on. He started to think about moving on, about where he’d have to move to, but he ignored the thought, because he still had to find a way to eat, to get water, to survive, and he wasn’t sure if the violence would return, and he wasn’t sure of where the violence had already struck. Closing his eyes, he thought of himself as being in the eye of the storm. Days ago he’d been in the storm of artillery fire, gunfire, mutilation and misery, but, now, it was peaceful. Opening his eyes and looking up, he felt that the way the birds circled only cemented this imagery, felt that he as truly safe, even if only for a day or two. Hunger was finally able to move him to action, and he started to wonder around the town to find something to eat, something to fill his stomach before the next vacancy. He knew where the bakery, the grocery store, and the butcher’s store were, but not with the town like this, he didn’t know which buildings to search, they were all the same to him. Eventually, making his way over the warm stone, he saw a figure, a body. It was clear that they were dead, but he knew that he knew them, they were a neighbor, whoever they were, and he had to at least bury them, he left his town to burn, so he had to at least try to make things right. However, when he went to lift the corpse, he was suddenly blinded, deafened and knocked back. His arms were in more pain than he thought possible, and he wildly tried to rub his eyes in a desperate attempt to see, but he couldn’t feel his face at all. He tried to get up, but he could not, he just kept slipping, and when his sight returned to him, he saw his knees sliding around in blood, his blood, that was pouring from the stumps of his arms. The birds circled overhead.

#War #War Story #Fiction #Writers on Tumbler #Military

[starlalalala]

Served Cold

Pairing: Freewood

Prompt:  “If you even THINK about touching him, I’ll kill you.”

Tags/Warnings: Non-Graphic (mostly?) Torture, Fake AH Crew, Drowning

Summary: Ryan’s past comes back to bite him. Gavin gets caught in the middle.

Thank you, Anon, for the prompt!

(Also, I’m not entirely sure what counts as Non-Graphic, so if anyone thinks a change in tag is appropriate or wants any additional tag, let me know)

“If you even think about touching him, I’ll kill you.”

That was enough to give the man pause. He eyed Gavin from behind the plain white mask, looking away from an unconscious Vagabond. Apparently, a threat coming from the Golden Boy was novel enough to draw his attention.

“You heard me, you shitty knock-off. I’ll kill you myself, and string you up in this warehouse! Let everyone see what happens when you mess with the Fakes.” Gavin’s predatory grin was more effective when he wasn’t tied to a chair. It was all about overconfidence and bluster, an act he’d put on a hundred times before -and one he would put on a hundred times again, because he wasn’t fucking dying here. And neither was Ryan.

The man’s attention stayed on him for a moment longer, before he tossed a bucket of water onto Ryan. 

Gavin cursed as Ryan woke up, coughing and sputtering before the man ripped off the black skull mask and threw it onto the floor. Most of Ryan’s facepaint had been spared, except around his nose and mouth where water still dripped. Ryan looked around wildly before his breathing settled and his eyes found Gavin’s, and then he saw the man in the white mask.

“I didn’t realise you two were so close,” the man said, attention back on Gavin.

Without missing a beat, Gavin grinned. “I don’t like people touching my stuff.”

Ryan growled, sounding more animal than man. It was something he was really good at, and Gavin winked as soon as the masked man turned around again.

Ryan and Gavin had been placed facing each other, about ten steps between them. The warehouse was large, with broken windows that let in the night breeze and the sound of waves crashing against the dock. It would’ve been nice, if the place didn’t reek of fish and salt.

The man walked away to a table to their right, and Gavin tested his restraints. The chair was sturdy, bolted to the floor, and his arms had been tied to the back of the chair, elbows together, his legs secured to the chair. The man and his associates -because there was no way one guy took Gavin and Ryan- hadn’t taken any chances, and had used duct tape and then rope, and then handcuffs on his wrists. 

Ryan seemed to be in a similar predicament. When their eyes met, Ryan gave him a slow nod -they wouldn’t give him anything. 

The man returned wheeling a trolley, covered in scalpels, pliers, knives both smooth and serrated, and a small selection of syringes. He parked it next to several buckets of water.

Gavin let out a low whistle. “Organised! I like it. You know what you’re doing, huh?” 

For the first time, the man seemed thrown off. Gavin couldn’t see his face behind the mask, but he gave off such a genuine sense of confusion that Ryan snorted -and then broke down coughing, because he’d breathed in wet face paint. 

“That’s not a good thing for you,” the man said, ignoring Ryan. 

Gavin smiled, shrugged, and tried to swing his legs -before he remembered they were firmly attached to the chair. “Well, means that we didn’t get nabbed by some nobody, right? Got a reputation to uphold.” The man nodded, accepting the point. Teeth showing through his grin, Gavin asked, “What’s your name anyway? Or what can we call you?”

“Does it matter?” The man walked closer to Gavin. Behind him, Ryan shook his head, but Gavin kept his eyes trained on the man.

“Want to know what I should be screaming later,” Gavin replied with a wink, and that startled a laugh from the man. 

Ryan scowled. The man went back to his trolley, so Gavin could give Ryan a quick smile before he returned.

“You may call me Asterion,” the man said, “or at least, you may.” Asterion nodded at Ryan. Gavin opened his mouth to question him.

And then he couldn’t breathe.

Duct tape covered his nose and mouth. Gavin tried to draw a breath, but got nothing, and wordlessly protested, voice muffled by the tape, shoulders heaving against the restraints. Asterion had just made a mistake, he wasn’t actually going to kill him like this, he’d adjust the tape, he would, there was no point in keeping Gavin alive like he had unless he had some sort of plan for him-

Gavin couldn’t breathe. 

Tears fell without any say from him, and he desperately searched for Asterion’s face, trying to tell him that this was wrong, but his vision was quickly greying out. His head was pounding, he couldn’t breathe out either and the pressure was going to kill him, Gavin was sure his head was gonna fucking implode-

Ryan yelled, an indistinct noise behind the roaring in Gavin’s skull, and all of a sudden he could breathe again.

Gavin took in a few gasping breaths before the tape returned -he shook his head, but this time it only covered his mouth. 

“Sorry, Golden Boy, gotta keep that silver tongue in check,” Asterion said. This close, Gavin could see his eyes behind the mask -could see him wink. Mocking.

Asterion moved out of Gavin’s sight -and then his hands settled on Gavin’s shoulders from behind. Gavin was only just able to control his flinch. 

He tried to meet Ryan’s eyes, but Ryan was focused on what must have been Asterion, his face twisted into a snarl. His facepaint exaggerated the movement of his face, gave him too many teeth, turned him into something monstrous. It didn’t look like he was worried about Gavin. It looked like he wanted to rip out someone’s throat.

“I’m not interested in the Fakes, Vagabond,” Asterion began, one hand disappearing from Gavin’s shoulder, “I’m interested in you, and what went down in Georgia ten years ago.”

Gavin let out a noise of confusion, muffled by the tape. Ryan narrowed his eyes but said nothing, still glaring at Asterion. 

Suddenly there was a grip in Gavin’s hair, the back of his head slamming against the chair and he was looking up at Asterion’s chin, could see right up his nostrils which was just gross, his neck tilted at an unnatural angle. Gavin tried to escape and Asterion’s grip tightened, his other hand still resting on Gavin’s shoulder.

“I didn’t think you’d want to talk about it,” Asterion said, his tone even, polite. “But I have to insist. Otherwise Golden Boy here gets tarnished.”

There was a moment of silence. Gavin’s breathing evened out again. He could handle a little torture, if that’s what it came to. They were still in Los Santos, they’d be found soon enough, the others might even be on their way now. Whatever this was about, they were going to be fine.

“Or maybe he doesn’t matter to you,” Asterion said, and shrugged, the movement jarring Gavin’s neck and prompting a grunt of discomfort. “But he matters to Ramsey, right? See what he thinks when he finds out what you let happen. See what he thinks when he finds out why.”

The fist in Gavin’s hair disappeared, as did the hand on his shoulder, leaving his skin feeling clammy and uncomfortable. Finally he could see Ryan again, try to distract himself from whatever Asterion was messing around with on the trolley.

Ryan did meet Gavin’s eyes this time, and he looked -scared. Ryan looked scared. He was hiding it, and if Gavin hadn’t known him for years he never would’ve seen it, but Ryan was afraid of whatever was happening here, whatever this man was talking about. It was hard to make out the blue in Ryan’s eyes in the darkness, but Gavin could see the pleading look in them.

Gavin wasn’t sure what he was trying to ask.  Understanding, perhaps. Ryan’s mouth was a thin line on his face, jaw clenched tightly like he was afraid what might come spilling out if he let himself relax. 

Gavin steeled himself. Ryan had a personal stake in this, fine. One of them still had to be calm. 

And then-

“Hey-” Ryan yelled, and Gavin’s world rocked with a blow to his head. 

Pain took a moment to register, but when it did, it forced a whimper out of Gavin and tears sprung to his eyes. His view of Ryan was blocked by black spots in his vision. He blinked them away, recovering quickly -this wasn’t the hardest he’d been hit, it wasn’t even meant to be that hard, not hard enough to knock him out. 

Asterion was crouched in front of him when he recovered, blank mask staring at him, eyes hidden in shadow. Gavin’s temple throbbed.

“It really is unfortunate you had to be involved in this,” Asterion said. “My apologies.”

Lacking the ability to spit, Gavin responded with a withering look.

Asterion shrugged, stood and walked behind Gavin. With Ryan in his sight again, Gavin tried to look confident and reassuring despite the tape over his mouth and what must’ve been swelling along the left side of his face. Ryan looked ill, and he couldn’t quite meet Gavin’s eyes, always looking over his shoulder at whatever Asterion was doing.

And then cloth was covering his eyes, and Gavin couldn’t see Ryan anymore.

The tape had disappeared a while ago. It hadn’t been of great quality, apparently, because while Asterion was waterboarding Gavin with a towel and a bucket it had started to peel away at the edges. Too risky, anyway, to keep it up with Gavin’s mouth covered -even if it made everything so much worse, the possibility of Gavin drowning was just too great.

Instead, industrial-strength headphones were secured over Gavin’s head, and he was left with nothing but a roaring in his ears, his beating heart, and any sound he made magnified in his own head.

He’d tried to make a joke when the tape came off, laugh of Asterion’s actions as him being one kinky motherfucker, but his throat was scraped roar and he wasn’t sure either Asterion or Ryan heard it. Gavin also wasn’t sure what he’d said was any real words. He’d long ago lost track of how long they’d been here, and his brain was still recovering from the lack of oxygen. 

But the others would be here soon. They had to be.

Gavin hated it, but he felt oddly comforted whenever he could feel something -even if it was a punch to the stomach, or a knife trailing along his skin. So long as the attention was on him, Ryan was safe, and while Asterion was a lot more experienced than Gavin had first thought this was still within the realm of what Gavin could handle. Even if the coughing was starting to really hurt his chest.

He didn’t know how Ryan was doing, though. Obviously couldn’t hear him yelling anymore. Asterion had been taunting him about -something. Whatever he’d grabbed them for. 

Gavin’s head was pulled back by the hair once again, a slightly damp towel thrown over his face.

He couldn’t help it. He whimpered. The sound was deafening in his head but was soon drowned out by his breathing, quick, shallow breaths and he needed to breathe deeply, needed to hold his breath, needed to minimise the damage of this-

After a moment, Gavin’s hair was realised from the painful grip and he desperately shook the towel off his face. 

And then the headphones were ripped off.

“Okay okay, let’s t- what the hell are you doing?” Gavin could’ve sobbed in relief, hearing Ryan’s voice again. It sounded a little hoarse, a little painful. But it was Ryan.

“Don’t you think Golden Boy here deserves to know what he’s been suffering for?” Asterion spoke. Gavin flinched when he felt a hand on his hair, but Asterion only ruffled it gently.

“I don’t-”

“Let me give you an ultimatum here, Vagabond, because this is getting absurd.” Cold steel pressed lightly against Gavin’s throat. “Talk, or I kill him.”

There was silence.

The steel disappeared, and then-

“Alright! Alright, okay, I’ll -just stop, stop, stop, STOP-”

Gavin felt a light sting on his neck. It took a moment for him to recognise it as the knife biting into his skin. It disappeared, blood spilling out after it. The wound was survivable. It was still painful. 

Gavin was shivering violently now. He could hear Ryan. It sounded like he was crying, but Gavin was barely aware of the sound, the shock, drowning, and blood loss over the course of however long they’d been here adding up.

“What happened, James?” Asterion hissed, and-

“It was just a hit, okay, I was paid, it wasn’t personal, I didn’t know anything about it other than the name,” Ryan babbled, and-

Bang.

A gunshot cracked through the small space. Gavin couldn’t react to it. His head was slumped onto his chest, and he had enough presence of mind to be upset that he was bleeding on a nice white shirt. It took a moment for him to remember he should be worried, worried about Ryan.

“Gavin? Gavin, can you hear me?” Oh, Ryan was talking. He was fine. Gavin could relax. Or maybe not, because Ryan didn’t sound very happy. “Gavin, c’mon, you’re awake, right? Gavin?”

“Gavin! Ryan!” Someone else was here, too. He knew that voice. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened?”

Michael. Of course it was Michael. “Hey, boi,” Gavin managed, though he noted distantly he didn’t sound very good. Hands were on him again and he whined, trying to move away, but everything hurt and he was still all tied up, anyway.

“Gav, Gav, hey, it’s just me, it’s just me,” Michael was saying, and Gavin calmed down a little. It was much easier to just sit. “I’m gonna take off the blindfold, okay? Just keep your eyes shut for a bit. We need to let your eyes adjust.”

Gavin wasn’t actually sure if his eyes were open or not, so he screwed them tightly shut to be sure. The cloth was removed from his eyes and the night air on Gavin’s face helped him breathe easier, helped him feel a little more aware. Michael was working on his restraints, he was sure, and now he could feel how hurt he was. His chest ached, his lungs ached, his throat was killing him. A myriad of little cuts and bruises all stung him, and his neck- god, it wasn’t life-threatening, but it wasn’t a shallow cut, either.

Gavin’s legs were free, and Michael moved behind him to work on his arms. There were more hands on him, though, and cloth pressed against his throat -his eyes flew open and he tried to move away, but it was just Ryan, already out of his restraints and holding a jacket against him. Behind him stood Geoff, who was on the phone with someone and glancing at Gavin every so often.

“Hi, Ry,” Gavin said, or tried to say, the sound croaked out and too quiet. His vision was a little blurry but Ryan looked upset, and the only way Gavin could think to comfort him without his voice was to faceplant into his shoulder- which he did, as soon as Michael got his arms free.

“Gav,” Ryan grunted, rocking back on his heels to adjust to Gavin’s weight. Gavin’s arms protested the movement, aching from being held in one place for so long. He didn’t really care, though. There were too many hurts for him to be able to focus on just one. “Jesus, Gavin, you-” Ryan cut himself off with a frustrated noise.

Gavin felt himself being shifted, gently pulled from the chair. He groaned in pain but was hushed, quiet words he couldn’t quite register washing over him.

“Ryan, you’re not carrying him, you’re gonna mess yourself up,” Michael snapped, but no one really tried to move Gavin away from him, and when Ryan stood he didn’t seem to have any trouble with Gavin’s weight.

“I’m fine,” Ryan said, an edge to his voice that prompted Gavin to hide his face in the leather of Ryan’s jacket. “He never touched me.” There was a moment of silence, as if Michael wasn’t sure whether to comment on the crack in Ryan’s voice or not.

“You were still -whatever. Don’t drop him, the car’s not parked too far.” Michael pressed the cloth closer into Gavin’s neck, taking the time to wedge it between Gavin and Ryan so it kept pressure up. 

“We’re heading to the clinic past the waterfront. They’re expecting us.” Geoff took the lead. Gavin peeked out from Ryan’s shoulder and could see him holding his gun, still wary. .

“I’m sorry, Gavin,” Ryan whispered. Gavin painfully lifted an arm and clutched Ryan’s shirt in response. “I’m so sorry.”

Gavin allowed himself to relax in Ryan’s grip, and let Ryan’s apologies keep him awake.

#freewood #ragehappy #fahc #fake ah crew #my fic #ryan #gavin #torture #drowning

[heebiejbies]

Affliction - Chapter V

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Warnings: This series contains mentions of violence, abuse, and vulgar language.

Characters: Tao, Suho, Chanyeol, and Sehun

Word Count: 3.8k

“It is riskier to risk nothing when the life we live is always at risk.” 

“Yes, I remember him. He was missing up until a few months before his death. It’s a shame, someone so young to have died so quickly. I will admit, I was puzzled when they brought him in. He had scars all over his body that looked like he kept shooting up something over and over again. They were really bad on his neck as well, that really made no sense,” The medical examiner said, leading me back into her office. I had gone straight there after I left from visiting Tao. I was lucky enough that the medical examiner actually allowed me to view the reports she had made on Luhan. She laid the file down in front of me, letting me flip through the pages.

“There were so many things that I found that I classified as odd. He had ligature marks on his wrists and ankles, but they never found anything that led them to believe that he was restrained,” She continued.

“What was his official cause of death?” I asked.

“That’s where it gets weird. I found massive amounts of three different drugs in his bloodstream. Sodium thiopental, pancuronium bromide, and potassium chloride.” She pointed out the section of her report where she noted the drugs and how high of a dosage each was.

“Wait, so you are telling me that he died as if he was lethally injected in prison? Why wasn’t this treated as a homicide, then?” I had studied those drugs in medical school, and we learned that they were each used in executions. I wasn’t sure if they still used them and could have access to them in prisons, but I knew who could have gained access to get all three of those.

“The detectives found multiple syringes around his house, and traces of all three drugs and more. The marks that he came in with are the same that you see from addicts. He injected them all by himself and he killed himself. With all of the drugs that were found in his apartment, it’s a wonder how he didn’t overdose earlier,” She said, but she didn’t sound like she believed it herself.

“Can I make copies of these?”

It was a little past dusk when I finally got back to my apartment building. I don’t know if it was because of the all day running around I did, or the stress from this whole situation that made me exhausted. Regardless of what the reason was, I knew I wouldn’t be getting much sleep until this whole ordeal was over and done with.

I was so tired, I didn’t notice someone waiting on the elevator when I stepped out of it. We collided into one another, the copies of the file spilling on the floor. “I’m so sorry!” The stranger exclaimed, hurrying to help me pick up my papers.

“Thank you, I really should watch where I am going. I’m just so tired that I,” I paused when I saw that I had bumped into the new neighbor that I bumped into a few days ago, “We keep meeting like this,” I joked.

“It appears so. I guess we both need to be watching where we are going,” He chuckled.

“What did you say your name was again?” I asked.

“Yifan. Wu Yifan.”

“Well, what did you say after that?” Tao questioned.

“Nothing. I didn’t know what to say! I felt as if I was looking at a ghost,” I sighed, sitting down on his bed. The next day, I brought him the files from the reports on Luhan’s death. I also told him about meeting whom I now learned to be Yifan, also known as Kris. When he told me his name, I almost panicked. If he still didn’t remember his past, I didn’t want to say anything to bring those memories back up. I had told Tao about it, and he seemed so relieved to hear that he was alive and well.

“Are you going to say something to him?” He replied.

“If he doesn’t remember, I don’t want to bring trouble to him by reminding him. Especially if that means his life will be in danger if he remembers,” I explained.

“He’s going to have to find out sometime!”

“You don’t think I know that? I’m just trying to figure out what to do!”

I wasn’t even sure what my next move was going to be. When I went to work the next day, I knew the first chance I got I had to go see Suho and tell him about Tao. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to tell him about Luhan or Kris, especially with how many things were probably weighing down on him.

“This would be so much easier if they trusted me. Suho and Chanyeol seem to be the only ones that don’t think I’m an enemy. Kai especially seems to have very little trust in me, he treats me like an animal whenever I’m around him. Baekhyun, well, I know he doesn’t trust me. He knows that I’m not fully on Lilly’s side, but that’s it.” I laid back on the bed, Tao moving so I could have more room.

“What about the others? Sehun and Yixing don’t know what is going on, right?”

“Sehun, Yixing, Jongdae, Kyungsoo, and Minseok. I know I can’t convince them to believe me, and Lilly threatened to kill Suho if he told any of them. Knowing that, I wouldn’t even think of asking him or Chanyeol to convince them…” I sighed again and propped myself up on my elbows, “If I’m going to expose them, I’m going to have to find solid evidence that Lilly is drugging them. To do that, though, I’m going to need all of them on my side. That will be the hard part.” How I would do that I had no idea, but I had to. The only way any of them would ever be safe again is if all of those involved go down. I looked over to Tao who sat with his knees against his chest and arms resting on top of his knees. A plan started forming in my head, and I knew just who could help me with this.

“Tao, I need you to do me a favor.”

The next night I got off work and was ready to set my plan in motion. I waited around until around two in the morning before I headed back to the hospital. I parked my car a few streets away and walked through the woods, entering through one of the stairwell doors in the basement. The entire downstairs area just so happened to be no longer in use, leaving it as the perfect way for me to slip in and out easily. The boys were on the second floor, and this stairwell was located across from Suho’s room.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

“Positive. Lilly used to complain about how the nurse that is on the night shift nearly never leaves the nurse’s station. She’s on her phone the entire night and never really pays attention to anything but that, and the only doctor I’ve ever seen on this floor was the one that sedated Chanyeol. I haven’t seen him around since that day,” I pointed towards the security camera in the top corner of the stairwell, “For some reason the security guard that usually watches the cameras wasn’t here today. Yeni didn’t work today, and Lilly disappeared like she usually does. I took that as an opportunity to come look around on the main level and basement. It took me a few minutes but I finally found the security office. I cut the live feed from the cameras and I set the previous day’s tapes to play so it looks as if they are still working properly.” 

I opened the door to the floor, peering out to see if anyone was around to see. “The coast is clear, let’s go,” I said, motioning for Tao to follow me. Usually, the patient's doors were locked after midnight, but I managed to sneak a set of keys from the nurse’s station earlier that day. I unlocked the door and let Tao go in first, I then looked back around to check for someone again. When I saw that no one was around, I followed behind Tao.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” I looked to see that Suho had Tao in a bone crushing embrace, tears were streaming down his face. Suho was the only one that I had told about seeing Tao and having him as a part of my plan.

“You’re not restrained?” I asked.

“No, that idiot nurse forgot to put my restraints back on. She does that so often.”

I knew that I took my job more seriously than Lilly and Yeni, seeing as they were hard to find most of the time, but I never imagined even the night staff was so irresponsible. I knew that Suho wasn’t dangerous, but the nurse probably didn’t know that. I mentally thanked her for her lack of responsibility and laziness, though.

“Alright, listen. If anyone sees us, I want you to get the hell out of here. I’ll distract them long enough for you to get away,” I informed Tao. “The rooms are in this order. Baekhyun’s room is next door, but I want to go to Chanyeol’s first. His room is next to Baekhyun’s, and then Kai’s is the one next to that. After that, instead of crossing into the right wing by passing by the nurse’s station, we will take the stairwell again. The stairwell on the other side opens up right beside Sehun’s room. Then following that is Kyungsoo, Jongdae, Yixing, and lastly Minseok.” I had drawn a miniature map for reference, including the nearest exits if the stairwells we were using were not accessible in case of emergency.

“Did you talk to the others in this wing today?” Earlier in the day, I had told Suho to speak to them to let them know what I was doing. They knew about what was being done, so Lilly’s threat didn’t apply to them. Regardless if they believed what he told them was true, I hoped Tao being with me would help convince them.

“All but Chanyeol, he wasn’t out today.” He replied.

“Suho, I am going to tell you this right now. If I am caught-”

“You will not be caught,” He cuts me off.

“But if I am, what do you think will happen to all of you? I don’t want them to hurt you even more, especially because of me,” I sighed, an apparent trademark of mine ever since I started working here. My mind and heart had been racing since the moment we stepped into the building. When I told Suho earlier about what I planned to do, I first asked him if he was absolutely okay with it.

“Even if something does happen, at least we will know you risked it all to help us. That will provide some hope for us,” He smiled at me. I hadn’t even been working there for two months, yet what he said brought tears to my eyes. I found myself hugging him, telling myself not to cry.

“Alright, are you ready to go, Tao?” Tao looked over at me and nodded his head.

I opened the door slightly, peeking out in the hallway again to see if the coast was clear. I slowly walked out, going halfway to Chanyeol’s room before I motioned for Tao to follow me. When we reached the door, Tao moved to unlock the door. Once it was unlocked, I pushed him in and followed behind him.

“What’s going on?” I heard Chanyeol speak, “Tao?” He added. I turned around to see Chanyeol looking white as a sheet, Tao standing by his bedside. Tao nodded his head and leaned down to hug Chanyeol.

“I thought you were dead… How? Why?” Chanyeol was struggling to find the proper questions to ask in this situation.

“I found him. With the names you gave me, I found him. I asked him to come with me tonight as a part of my plan,” I answered.

“What plan?”

“I’m going to try and get you guys out of here. Not tonight of course, but tonight will set that in motion. I asked Tao to come with me to try and convince the others that didn’t know what was going on. I knew I couldn’t put yours or Suho’s lives at risk by asking you to convince them, so this seemed to be the only way. I’m also hoping this will convince the rest of you in this wing that I’m your ally. If I have the trust of all of you, I know that it will help me get you guys out of this. This seems like the only way to gain your trust.”

Tao began to tell Chanyeol everything he remembered after they were taken from here. He even included why he was a voluntary inmate in a psych ward, and about my visits before tonight.

“I’m so happy you’re alive. What about Kris and Luhan?” Chanyeol asked the question that I hadn’t even revealed to Suho.

“Kris, he’s fine and alive. He just doesn’t remember what happened here,” I explained, I moved closer to his bed, “And Luhan… He’s gone. I am so sorry,” I trailed off. I knew that Chanyeol was relieved to hear that Kris was also alive, but I could tell that the news of Luhan broke his heart. Tao handed him the reports from the medical examiner and explained to him that he knew that someone here was responsible for his death.

“That fucking bitch Lilly killed him! When I get out of here I am going to rip her fucking-” I jumped on the bed and slapped my hand over Chanyeol’s mouth, “Be quiet! Someone will hear you and come see what’s going on and then we all will be screwed, we can’t completely rely on the incompetent nurse here tonight. Suho doesn’t know about this, and I know it wasn’t right to not tell him about it but… I don’t believe that he can handle hearing that right now. He doesn’t even know about Kris,” I said as I removed my hand from Chanyeol’s mouth.

We stayed in his room for another five minutes before I decided it was time to move onto the other’s rooms, knowing it could take a long time to explain to them and get them to understand what was going on. I told Chanyeol that if we didn’t return tonight, I would let him know how it went first thing in the morning.

“Listen, please be safe. I cannot imagine what they would do to you if they found out you were trying to help us,” Chanyeol admitted, grabbing my hand and holding it tightly, “Thank you for doing this. It means the world to me, and I know the others will feel the same. When I first met you I never imagined you would be taking such a risk to help all of us.”

We bid our goodbyes to Chanyeol and then headed out into the hallway.

Telling Kai and Baekhyun wasn’t as complicated as I feared. Kai seemed more iffy about me than Baekhyun did, but I knew having Tao with me helped convince him more. I just hoped that whatever good spirits were with us, stayed with us as we went to tell the other five.

“Listen, maybe I should go in Sehun’s room alone first. I don’t want to overwhelm him with bringing you in there, it’ll only make it harder to understand,” I said, Tao and I stood by the door that leads into the hallway. For some reason, I had grown rather fond of Sehun in particular. It’s unclear as to why I had grown attached to him, but I had this extremely strong protective instinct over him. Not saying I didn’t with the other eight, I just felt it more with Sehun.

“No, what are you talking about? Why would I overwhelm him?” He raised his voice slightly.

“He thinks you’re dead, Tao. He doesn’t even know that he was drugged. He’s so helpless and I’m the only one that can help him. If only you could have seen him then. He was so weak, I had a hard time containing my emotions when I first saw the state he was in. He looked so helpless, so broken. One night he had me stay with him until he fell asleep. It is as if he thought that he would only be able to sleep if I stayed with him. Please, just let me go in to see him first. I’ll let him down gently, and when I know he’s ready to see you I will come get you. I promise, please,” I pleaded.

He nodded his head in an understanding manner. I went through the process of making sure no one was around, unlocking the door, and going in like the previous rooms. His room was dark, indicating that he must have been sleeping. I went over to the nearest lamp and turned it on. I was surprised when I turned around to see him laying on his back with his eyes open.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice had a soft tone to it.

“I have something very important I have to tell you. Something you might not even believe, but please just believe me when I tell you this. Believe that this is the God’s honest truth, that’s all I ask for,” I said. I sat down on his bed beside him and took his hand in mine, a manner I had picked up while taking care of him that I did whenever I spoke to him.

“When Yixing turned up sick after you had been sick, I took care of him like I did for you. I was in his room and I noticed that the disposable bin in his room was nearly full. When I cleaned it out, I found medication that is used to treat Leukemia and Tuberculosis. Lilly drugged you, Sehun. She gave those medicines to both of you and that is what made you as sick as it did. I have the side effects and signs of overdose if you want to see them. Are you following me?” I checked to make sure before I went more into detail.

“Is that… Is that why she has given me so many different injections? She was drugging me?” I nodded in response. “I… I guess… I knew that something was going on like that. I just didn’t want to believe it. She told me how sick I was and always diagnosed me with all these different things. When you came along, I started to question everything she had done and said to me, but I never wanted it to be the truth,” He continued. I noticed that his expression started growing upset, so I moved onto the bed more to let him rest his head on my lap. I started petting his head to try and calm him down, knowing what I had to say next could really shake him up.

“That’s not all.  Do you think you can handle more?” When he nodded his head I continued, “Everyone in the left wing, I was told that they were there because they were more violent. I don’t know what you were told, but that’s not why. They all had figured out what was going on, and they split you all up to avoid them telling you about what was going on. Are you still following me?” He gave another nod. “This is the big one… What you were told about Kris, Luhan, and Tao was a lie. Kris found out, and he told Tao and Luhan. So they tried to suppress their memories and stuck them back out in the world.”

“How do you know this?” He questioned. He seemed to be believing me so far, but I could still sense the hint of doubt he had when I mentioned those three names. 

“I found Tao. He told me what had happened, and said that he was the only one that didn’t have his memory suppressed. He’s here… He’s with me. If you’re ready, I can bring him in. Are you ready?” Sehun whispered a faint ‘yes’. I looked to see if anyone was outside before I went to the stairwell door and told Tao to follow me, letting him come into Sehun’s room.

The moment Sehun saw Tao, he abruptly stood up to hug him. I heard him sniffle, letting me know that he had started crying. “I can’t believe it’s really you,” He whispered. He clung to Tao as if his life depended on it—like Tao was simply an illusion that he didn’t want to fade away. While they were hugging, I sat down at the foot of Sehun’s bed. I knew that Tao would want to explain everything, even if that meant confirming everything I had told Sehun and breaking his heart with the truth.

Tao told Sehun everything that he had told the others before, minus the information about the whereabouts of Kris and Luhan. I had asked him to not tell them, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to handle that information on top of what’s being said.

“I promise you this, you’ll get out of here. No matter what it takes, I will help as much as I can to get all of you out of here.” Tao promised this, looking at me to agree with him. “Even if I get hurt along the way, I’ll do everything I can,” I said.

When it was time to move onto Kyungsoo’s room, I noticed that Sehun seemed to have more energy in him than before. It was as if seeing Tao had spiked some unknown emotion in him that made him seem more lively. Before I left, he pulled me into a hug just like he had done with Tao earlier.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. You must be risking your life to do this. You have to be an angel sent from Heaven to help us,” He stated. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I replied. I went to pull away, but he kept his grip on me, “Please… Please come back safe to us. To me. You’ve become so precious to me I just couldn’t imagine something happening to you,” He whispered. I promised him I would, even giving him a bracelet I always wore to reassure him that I would be back.

We said our goodbyes to Sehun, and onto the next room we went.

#exo scenarios #exo au #exo au scenarios #affliction #suho scenarios #xiumin scenarios #yixing scenarios #chanyeol scenarios #sehun scenarios #kyungsoo scenarios #chen scenarios #kai scenarios #baekhyun scenarios #jongin scenarios #jongdae scenarios #exo angst #d.o scenarios #lay scenarios #minseok scenarios #exo k scenarios #exo m scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #kpop au #au #tao scenarios #zitao scenarios #kris scenarios #yifan scenarios #junmyeon scenarios

[closestrangers]

Resilience Chapter 9

Summery: After the Dread Doctors left town, life at Beacon Hills High school had once again found a balance. After the summer, when the seniors graduated and went away to school, and Hayden broke up with him and left town, Liam begins junior year feeling abandoned and alone. However, quickly finding comfort in a very unlikely pack of his own, Liam tries to keep the peace until the return of his alpha. This proves itself to be difficult, as being a beacon to supernatural creatures is what the town does best.

A/N: Hey throwback to that time I wasn’t a piece of shit and actually wrote for this god damn blog? Hello my beautiful 200 followers who haven’t abandoned me yet. I truly hope this is the beginning of me being active again and not being awful. This chapter isn’t overly eventful, but I find it very cute. It gets lit after this I promise. Let me know what you guys think of it! :) More to be posted probably soon!

p.s I edited my theme, let me know what you think :)

PSA: I know that the last time I updated was before season six (oops I’m sorry I’m shit) so in case y’all are new readers this is an AU/my version of season 6, and therefore none of what happened in the most recent season is relevant to this story.

Paring: Liam Dunbar/Reader, Mason/Brett

Come say hi and tell me what you think!

Masterlist

Liam let out a sigh as he ran his hands through his hair before making eye-contact with Elle, who was sitting on the chairs in the lobby of the Animal Clinic. He yawned and took a seat next to her, exhausted from the past hour of helping Deaton attended to the girl’s injuries. Seeing it first hand, as opposed to Brett or Argent explaining to him, made the injuries feel so different in Liam’s head. Something didn’t add up and he needed to figure it out, and soon. However, his brain felt like it was on fire, and he needed to deal with what was happening right now first. “You alright?” He asked Elle, who was staring forward with a blank expression of her face.

“Yeah,” She responded, “just tired is all.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You know, when you told me the stories about your friends and you, dealing with these kind of things it was kind of exciting; like you were all solving a mystery. Its not as exciting anymore.”

Liam frowned, sitting up straight as he placed his hand on her knee. “I know its scary sometimes but— “

“I’m fine. Nothing happened, I shouldn’t be scared and I’m fine.”

Liam raised his eyebrow at her words. She was still facing forward and something about her demeanor seemed off. “A lot has happened in the past few weeks, it’s a lot to digest, trust me I know. It’s alright if you’re not ok— “

“I know.” She interrupted, this time turning to look at him and offering him a smile.

Liam offered a small smile back, and mentally went through the checklist in his head. She didn’t read of anything. Her heat-beat didn’t skip, so he knew that she knew it was in fact ok to not be ok, but that doesn’t equate to her actually being fine: it just means she was careful with her word choice.

This had been a pattern for the past few weeks; something bad happening, or Liam telling her about something bad happening and Elle accepting the information and then brushing it off. She was going to have to deal with her emotions eventually.

Liam squeezed her knee slightly in reassurance. “Alright, but if you ever need to talk— “

This time he was disturbed by the sound of a door shutting. Liam and Elle both flicked their heads to the side to see Deaton exiting from the examination room. He was rubbing at his eyes as he also was awfully exhausted.

“How is she?” Elle asked, her and Liam standing up go greet him.

“Sleeping, finally.” He answered before turning his attention to Liam. “I gave her a sedative, but she might wake up at some point in the night. I’d offer to stay but— “

“No it’s alright,” Liam interjected, knowing what Deaton was getting at, “I can stay tonight.”

“Thank you. I can stick around for the hour though if you need to drive Elle home.”

Liam nodded. “Yeah that’d be great.”

“Home?” Elle piped up. Both boys looked at her in confusion, as she stared back, glancing between the two of them. “I’m not going home.” She argued.

Liam rolled his eyes at her attitude. “Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.” She said firmly.

“Elle it’s three o’clock in the morning, let me drive you home.”

“No, I want to stay.”

“You’re not staying, your mom’s probably already worried.”

“No I called her.”

Deaton and Liam both paused their movements and looked at her with confusion. “What do you mean you called your mom?” Liam asked cautiously.

Elle stayed silent for a moment. “After I threw up.” She said sheepishly.

Liam snorted, mind quickly reminiscing holding Elle’s hair back after Deaton started snapping the girl’s bones back into place. Hopefully she wasn’t like Stiles and would adapt to it eventually.

Deaton blinked at her a few times, still very alarmed. “And what exactly did you tell her?”

Elle crossed her arms and gave the boys a look. “I told her I’m at the Animal Clinic, instead of the hospital, after we found a body in the middle of the road who was basically ripped in two, and I spent the past two hours watching you guys re-assemble her.” She answered sarcastically.

“That’s a tad bit over-dramatic, don’t you think?” Liam rebutted.

Elle rolled her eyes. “No shit, I’m not dumb. I told her Cameron called because she was having boy drama and you dropped me off after the movie, so I asked if I could stay over.”

Liam tilted his head in confusion once more. “Who the hell is Cameron?”

“The friend I made up.”

“You made up a friend?” Deaton questioned.

Elle nodded. “Yeah? I’ve watched enough television to know that we’d be going gallivanting and would be out all night so I needed a ruse.” She said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Both the boys once more stopped and stared at her for a few moments, digesting what she just said. Elle stared back, raising her eyebrows at him; as if she was challenging him to fight with her.

“At lest she’s punctual.” Deaton said, breaking the silence.

Liam shook his head. “That’s not the point, Elle I’m driving you home.”

“But I’m at Cameron’s house. What am I supposed to say? I solved her issues and she sent me home at three am?”

“Deaton, tell her she needs to go home.”

Deaton rolled his eyes as the two teenagers bickering in his Lobby. He thought it was going to be an extremely quite night before Elle and Liam showed up at his door and ambushed him with a body. After Scott left for school, Deaton was optimistic that maybe the teen-aged shenanigans would leave too. However, ever since Liam started working at the clinic (he had a fantastic reference from a previous employee), it was almost as if the chaos never left. Deaton was beginning to miss Scott. “I’m not getting in the middle of you two.”

“Deaton— “Liam protested.

Deaton ran his hand stressfully over his face. “You’re the one that told her she was involved; you don’t get to choose when that fact is or isn’t relevant based on whether it’s an inconvenience for you. Besides, with all the Mountain ash in this place, its always good to have a human around. Scott always had Stiles.” With that, he grabbed his coat and left, leaving the two teenagers to look after the girl.

“What’s mountain ash?” Elle asked.

Liam face-palmed, there was still so much ground to cover.

 ----------

 Elle sat back down in the lobby of the animal clinic. Liam had gone around and double checked to make sure all the windows were secure, and the front door locked. He looked around the room, seeing if there was anything to give them a better sleep. He returned with a blanket. “This is all I could find.” He said, taking a seat next to Elle, between her and the wall. “And you could go steal a dog and cuddle with it I suppose.”

Elle chucked, nudging Liam’s shoulder. “Why would I steal a dog, when I’ve got you? You’re basically a dog, right?” She teased.

Liam rolled his eyes. “Those jokes stopped being funny the second you started making them.”

“No, they’re still funny.” She responded, laughing.

“Are you saying you want to cuddle, Elle?” Liam joked, turning his head to look at her.

Elle shrugged, looking forward for a moment and then turning to look at him. “I mean; you are the closest thing I have to a pillow.” She joked.

Liam cracked a smile. Elle turned so her back was facing Liam, and directed him so she was tucked into his side, his arm draped over her so her head resting against his shoulder and then kicked her feet up. Liam shifted so he was leaning against the corner and then moved his head so it gently rested on hers.

Liam closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the silence, before speaking again. “Hey Elle? About earlier— “

“Can we talk about it later? I’m really tired.”

Her heartbeat may not have jumped, and there may have been no chemo-signals, but Liam knew her well enough to know that something was wrong.

“Yeah of course.” He said instead. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Liam tightened his grip on her slightly, and closed his eyes again. He tried to listen to her heartbeat until she fell asleep, but exhaustion hit him, and he was out before he knew it.

 ----------

 Liam first awoke to chaos.

Hearing the commotion in the examination room, he quickly became very aware to his surroundings. “Stay here.” He said to Elle, who he had shook aware when he stood up.

Liam opened the door to see the girl in complete hysterics. If her physical actions weren’t enough for him to pick up on, the chemo-signals sure were. It reeked of anxiety, distress, and fear. She was pulling at her restraints, screaming in pain. Liam assumed that it was possible she didn’t know she escaped and was safe, and the need to leave wherever she was outweighed the overwhelming pain she was in.

He leaped into action and grabbed the syringe of the sedative that Deaton laid out of the table. However, before he was able to inject her, she had managed to free her left hand, and slapped it out of Liam’s hand.

“Shit” he cursed under his breath.

Distracted, the girl used to opportunity to slap him across the face with her claws, causing him to groan. Instinctively, he grabbed her arm and twisted it, causing her to scream once more.

Stop Liam, you’re hurting her.

Don’t fight her, restrain her.

Liam let go of her wrist, then grabbed her forearm, holding it against her chest and placed his other hand on her shoulder trying to pin her down. She fought against his grip the whole time, screaming at him before letting out a roar.

Ok she’s definitely a werewolf.

“Hey!” He yelled, trying to talk over her, and the loudness of her movements. “Hey, hey, hey.” He coed, but it wasn’t getting her attention. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now. I found you on the road after you escaped, you woke up in the back of my car, remember?” He yelled again.

He watched her face flush with emotion, and her eyes turn back from yellow to brown. She relaxed slightly, but the sheer terror on her face was very prominent. “I’m Liam,” he continued, “Liam Dunbar. I’m not going to hurt you.” He repeated. He could feel her calm down a bit more, but to emphasize his point, he let go of her shoulder, and grabbed her free hand in both of his, squeezing till his veins turned black. He could hear her sigh in relief. “See?” He inquired, “you’re safe here. My boss, who stitched you up, said you have some very serious injuries, and are going to need to sleep for a few days so you can heal, alright?” Liam explained calmly.

The girl nodded at his words, before glancing down at her injuries, and the stitches and gauze on her body. She winced at her appearance before looking around the room. “Where am I?” She asked softly.

“The Beacon Hills Animal Clinic.”

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Where the hell is Beacon Hills?”

Liam shot her a look. Geography is by far his worst subject but even he knows the surrounding towns in the county. Where is she from?

Liam shook off the thought. “What’s your name?”

Her head shot up to look at Liam, and her eyes went wide. “I-I don’t, I can’t— “

“Shhhh,” Liam cooed, placing his hand on the side of her head to maintain eye-contact. “It’s fine; my boss says that along with your body, your mind has also been through a trauma and you need to let it heal. Go to sleep.”

She shook her head quickly. Liam could sense her anxiety levels rising again. “I can’t they’re gonna find me, I need to leave—they’re going to come back— “

“Hey, hey, hey,” Liam started again, using his other hand to help hold her head, and his elbow to pin down her shoulder. “look at me, I need you to take a deep breath for me, can you do that? Take a deep breath.” He said slowly. Liam then took a deep breath, and continued to do that until she mimicked him. “Smell that?” He asked. “It’s Mountain ash; no one is coming in without an invitation, you’re safe. I promise.”

“You promise?” She asked quietly.

Liam scanned her face, trying to read her features. All of her anxiety was clouding any other chemo signals, and he couldn’t even imagine the pain she was currently enduring; especially after fighting her restrains—which clearly weren’t doing a good job. But what really killed him was her eyes, they looked, empty. “What the hell happened to you?”

Liam watched as it looked as if every memory of what she went through hit her at once. She shook her head quickly, tears quickly falling from her face. “I didn’t mean to hurt them, they made me do it—I’m so sorry.” She yelled, before her crying made her words inaudible.

Liam panicked slightly-- he didn’t mean to traumatize her further. He tried to comfort her again with words but at this point she was too far gone. He held her down, trying to think of a plan to get the syringe before a noise from the door caught his attention.

He looked up to see Elle emerge from the doorway – who had probably been standing there the whole time—and picked up the sedative.

Liam shifted so his arms were around the girl, and she cried into him, but this way he could hold her arm steady for Elle. Liam held her, and whispered that she was safe into her ear, until he felt her pass out.

Untangling himself, Liam lied the girl back down into a comfortable position before moving around the table to Elle’s side and re-securing the restraint. Elle grabbed the blanket that she had knocked on the floor in her attempt to escape and placed it over her once more.

Liam placed his arm around Elle’s shoulders, pulling her into his side. All of a sudden he was very thankful that they had replaced one of the metal tables in the clinic with a hospital bed, but equally saddened by the fact they had to use it. He wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, but he was going to do everything in his power to made sure that it didn’t happen again.

“Hey Elle?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

#resilence #liam dunbar #liam x reader #liamdunbar #liam dunbar imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf blog #teen wolf imagine #series