silverlullabies - Tumblr blog

silverlullabies · 5 months

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Took some creative liberties with who the Reaper was speaking to. Also TW for blood, vomiting, abuse by proxy (is that a thing? I feel like that should be a thing), medical gore, and panic attacks.

AIONASE is named after Aion, the Hellenistic deity of eternal and cyclical time. The name was ironic and done on purpose.

•••

“—you tell me five things you see?”

“Blood. Blood everywhere.”

Vivian doesn’t remember making a conscious effort to talk, but she hears her voice- feels the vibration in her sternum, trembling against a building pressure in her chest. Blood? Why is there—? She blinks sluggishly and registers the blood on her hand, her sleeve, her shoes. Static presses against her consciousness like a siren song, attempting to lull her back into that sweet nothingness she just climbed out of.

“Good.” The voice from before says suddenly to her left, making her jolt in surprise at the unexpected sound cutting through the haze. She gets the impression they did that on purpose even if they sound pained that the first thing she picked was the trail of blood on her arm. “Good. Keep going. Four more things.”

She blinks slowly, attempts to look around, but just moving her head feels like too much work right now. She just wants to disappear again; retreat into the safety of her mind. The being next to her nudges her softly, pointedly, and Vivian picks the easiest thing she can see.

“Tiles.” She’s in no way short at 5’5” but the gleaming white linoleum is closer to her than it normally is and it takes her a second for the synapses in her brain to fire, to register that she’s sitting stiff-limbed on the floor, cold penetrating through her clothes and into her goosebump covered skin. She shivers and once she starts, she doesn’t stop.

“Phone.” It’s sitting in her lap, bloody fingerprints smeared over the screen, a text conversation open illuminating a conversation she doesn’t remember having. She tries to pick it up, but her fingertips are numb and lubricated and by the time she drops it for the fourth time, she gives up.

She trails stinging blurry eyes away from her phone, the movement causing the pounding in her head to spike and throb, made worse by the yellow fluorescent lighting that flickers overhead. Her vision wobbles off-kilter until she finds a spot on the wall to focus, squinting against “-shitty migraine inducing lights.” The figure beside her lets out a huff of air in amusement.

“Good, one more.”

Vivian stares blankly ahead until the fuzzy colorful image on the bulletin board in front of her fully sharpens, reading the advertisement of the new drug AIONASE over and over again without fully taking in the words. ‘You Waited Your Entire Life To Become a Grandparent. Now Watch Them Live Theirs With a Chance to Live Longer. Enjoy More Happy Memories and Choose Life. Ask Your Doctor About AIONASE Today and Decide When You’re Ready To Go!’ Next to a stock image of a happy elderly couple holding a newborn baby in the air. “—bullshit.” She mumbles, a spark of anger in her stomach.

The being next to her shifts, tilts his head in the same direction as her, sees the advertisement, and snorts. “… I’ll take it.” They turn back to her, rubbing a comforting hand against her shoulder, ice cold in a way that burns. She shudders, isn’t sure if it’s from the freeze of their fingertips branding into her skin or—

Or.

“Four things you can hear.”

“Someone screaming.”

The figure is silent for a moment, the hand stilling in between her shoulder blades. “Vivian…” They say very, very softly. Gently. It clashes with the rough and scathing thoughts swirling in her head. She hums, tilting her head in their direction to let them know she heard them and they say ever so carefully. “There’s nobody screaming.”

She furrows her eyebrows, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, confused, because she can clearly hear someone close by screaming high pitched, bordering on hysteria. How can they not hear that? She should probably get up and find whoever is making such a miserable sound because they need help, why is no one help-

“Deep breaths. You’re starting to panic again.”

She’s suddenly aware that she’s been breathing sharp little puffs of air that constrict her throat. She swallows, forces a deep breath, delivers oxygen to the nerves in her brain that finally connects, and begins to awaken the logical rational side of her mind. She lets out a shaky breath and the hazy emotional side of her brain that’s been wailing high pitched and sharp begins to taper off into a soft anguished cry for the first time in ten minutes.

It—

Has it already been ten minutes?

“Oh.”

The hand on her back begins to rub soothing circles into her skin again. “It’s okay. Three more. You’re doing so good.”

She tries to speak around a tongue that’s too heavy, too dry, wincing when it scrapes against her throat and the pressure building in her chest that thrums in time with the roar in her ears. “… heartbeat.” She gasps out, nose burning. It’s a good thing that he still doesn’t want her to see things, because her vision goes blurry again.

“Two more.”

“I can hear—“ except there’s nothing. No other sounds, no background noise that’s loud enough to make it over the sound of blood still bounding in her veins. She wonders if the figure is able to hear the blood dripping from her elbow onto the (previously pristine) white linoleum. “-you.” She finishes lamely, dully.

“One more.”

“I.” It’s funny in a way that isn’t, that not being able to hear anything but the figure beside her and the steady (thump!thump!thump!) in her ears is the catalyst for the pressure in her chest to fissure and collapse. Her rib cage spasms and her face twists as she grounds out between clenched teeth “-can’t.”

The floodgates open with her admission and she’s crying so hard she can’t breathe, can’t seem to suck in enough oxygen in between sobs to expand her lungs fully. Black dots pepper across her vision and she curls in on herself, knees pressed against her chin, arms draped around her midsection to hold violently shaking shoulders. Her phone slides off her lap and clatters to the floor but she can’t find it in herself to care. She can’t hear anything. She knows logically, she should be able to hear so much background noise. But she can’t hear anything at al—

Tock-Tock-Tock

Wait.

Wait, that’s not true.

She can hear something.

Her cries taper off until she’s only sniffling and making shuddering breaths, focusing on the sound until realization lights up in the back of her mind.

Tock-Tock-Tock

“A clock.”

It’s a clock ticking somewhere behind her.

“It sounds wrong.” She speaks the words out loud before she even realizes she says it, before she even registers the truth to her words. She focuses on the noise until it’s all she can hear for several minutes, a feeling of wrongness settling into her bones over the sound. The longer she listens, the more uneasy she becomes, as if she’s intruding on something private, something that wasn’t made for mortal ears. The figure next to her doesn’t respond to her words despite the curiosity she can practically feel rolling off of them in waves.

Tock-

She sways in time to each click she can hear in the room behind her, until she realizes what’s so off about it. Sucks in a breath of surprise at the revelation. “It’s broken. Stuck. On the same number. It can’t go past what’s supposed to be their time of —”

She cuts off, feeling something in her gut lurch (Danger!Danger!Danger), a warning from the universe to not delve further into that thought. The being hums a reply, neither confirming nor denying her words. They just continue to rub soothing circles, grounding her. Just says softly, “ Now three things you can feel.” in the kind of low tone she would use for scared kids and panicked adults.

“Your hand.” The fingers pause before they press more firmly into her back, acknowledging her words, adding to the sensation to ground her more firmly. She hears a pleased sound from the being when she sinks into the touch. Vivian’s eyes flutter shut against the weight between her shoulders, tears that were welling in her eyes, falling white hot against her cheeks. She blames her malfunctioning brain-to-mouth filter on the next words out of her mouth being, “They’re cold. Like a corpse.”

The being lets out a bark of laughter and she opens her eyes, lulls her head in their direction, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Inside joke.” They admit, still chuckling. “I’ll tell you sometime later. Now two more things.”

“Numb.” She answers honestly, though she can’t tell if it's because she’s been sitting on the floor or if it’s because she’s winding down from the shock and adrenaline. Pins and needles are shooting up her extremities with each movement but her fingers are also shaking in a way that has nothing to do with the way she’s sitting. The static is still whispering at the edge of her head and she wants to go back to it, wants to take a step out of herself and slightly to the left so she doesn’t have to focus on her emotions.

“That’s understandable. There’s nothing wrong with feeling that way. Just make sure you talk to someone about this later so it isn’t left to fester.” They say, pause, and then speak more softly, urgently. Pained. “I’ve seen what happens when someone bottles up all their emotions and doesn’t get any help. It’s not pretty. Don’t let that be your future.”

“Yeah.” Vivian agrees with them, because she has too. Seen the results of self hatred and external rage from people who don’t know how to handle their emotions. Seen the way it manifests as a noose around someone’s throat or their fists cracking bones and splitting flesh.

“What else do you feel?”

“My head hurts.”

They tut, hand going to the back of her neck to rub out some of the tension and she practically melts against it. “Also understandable. You’ve been crying a lot. Dehydration will do that to you. Make sure you drink lots of fluids the rest of today.”

She bobs her head in acknowledgment and despite the fact that she already knows this, some part of her is glad that someone else has taken the reins for now. She’s so… tired. So unbelievably tired. The world outside their little bubble is foggy and out of focus and she kind of wants to curl up in a ball with them and go quiet forever, hiding from the guilt that’s crushing her inwards like a trash-compactor.

“Are you hurting anywhere else?” They ask softly, but not enough to hide the worry in their tone. “No injuries, right? You’re sort of covered in blood.”

“It’s not mine.”

Something cold and uneasy laces itself into her stomach, nausea rolling in like a stone. Her heart rate picks up, breath hitching between clenched teeth. “It’s not mine.” She says again, jerks her head towards the door on the other side of her. “It’s his. He has cancer, all over—“ She had seen the scans, knows that it metastasized all over his body in such large quantities that they find a tumor every two inches. He’s more cancer than human now.

“He keeps bleeding out. Some of the tumors are weakening blood vessels and it’s causing him to hemorrhage out from every hole in his body.” She’s babbling now, words dripping from her mouth like running water. A distant part of her brain hisses that she’s giving away confidential patient information but the primal part of her brain somehow instinctively knows that somehow this being besides her is already aware of everything she’s saying.

“He should be dead. He should be dead by all rights. A human being shouldn’t be able to survive 70% of their body’s cells mutating against itself but he’s on…” she trails off, eyes darting around until they land on the bright advertisement. “That.” The figure looks up at what she pointed out and sucks in a breath. “He’s on that so he can’t die. But his cognitive function is so far gone that he can’t consent to stopping it. He doesn’t have a POA to consent for him until the Courts appoint one. And they’re backed up for months—“

Her voice cracks and she’s crying again, tugging her blood stained fingers into her hair. The being hesitates for just a second before folding her carefully into their arms with little resistance, fingers carding through her now knotted hair soothingly.

“This-this-this isn’t compassionate care! I’m torturing him! I didn’t become a nurse to hurt people! I wanted to help!” She wails, her fingers clutching into their clothes, knuckles white. She sobs in their arms, not caring that she’s burying her face into the crook of a stranger’s neck, holding on for dear life while she cries so hard her entire body shakes. Her head throbs more but it pales in comparison to the white hot agony of grief and guilt stabbing into her chest. They hold on to her, arms around her shoulders, hand patting in her hair, voice soothing and comforting until her second (or maybe this is her third?) round of crying wanes and she slowly pushes off of them, looking everywhere but them in embarrassment.

“I’m sor—“

“Please don’t worry about it. You’d be surprised at how many strangers cry in my arms.”

“You must have one of those faces.” Not that she would know, since her vision has been so blurry from all the tears in her eyes that she hasn’t been able to get a proper look at them.

They snort and then fall silent, gathering their thoughts before carefully speaking. “For what it’s worth. I think you’re doing an amazing job. You can’t save everyone, but the ones you do save are better for it. They may not remember your name, but they remember what you did for them no how you made them feel. It’s easy to be angry, to hate, to give up when things are hard. It’s even easier to be greedy and only look out for yourself. It takes a special type of strength to see someone in a situation where they’re not happy or safe or healthy and want to change that for them more than anything, even if you get no benefit from it. I’m proud of you.”

Vivian feels something heavy lift off her shoulders, no, off her soul, at their words and quietly offers her thanks, feels something flush on the highs of her cheekbone, that primal part of her brain preening under the praise like she was just complimented by a god.

“Do you still want to tell me two things you can smell now or are you okay to get some water- water Vivian, not coffee, don’t think I don’t know about your caffeine addiction- and then go back to work?”

Vivian huffs at the dig and opens her mouth to tell them that her nose is so clogged from all the crying that she can’t smell anything. Though, it’s odd, now that she thinks of it; before she started sobbing, she could have sworn she smelled the putrid rot of death—

“What are you doing on the floor?”

She jumps, startled, snapping her gaze to see one of her coworker Ellen exiting the patient’s room, staring at her in confusion. The world around Vivian slams back into sharp clarity, the gray haze lifting away from her mind like a camera lense turning into focus. All at once, she’s overwhelmed with sounds of people talking, babies crying, heart monitors going off, alarms of every kind, the overhead speaker calling a Rapid Response on another unit. She can see more than just her, the figure beside her, and the advertisement, like a veil lifting from her mind; sees the rows of rooms, the nurses station, people all around her walking and running and pushing cots.

“… adrenaline crash.” She admits weakly, but her coworker seems to believe her because she lets out a deep sigh; nods her head in understanding, helping Vivian from the floor.

“Yeah, it’s intense. We had to sedate him because all he would do is scream in pain.” Her eyes stray back into the patient’s room, taking in the fitfully sleeping man eyes scrunched tight and tossing and turning even in sedation because it doesn’t fully block the pain. It’s the equivalent of putting a bandage on a bullet hole. She turns back to Vivian. “Were you talking to someone just now?”

“Yeah, I was talking to-“ She turns towards the being only to find the space beside her empty. “I was talking to…” she trails off, looking around the unit for the figure, but the more details she tries to remember of them, the less she’s able to recall. The memory of them starts to slide away, like waking from a dream until nothing is left but vague impressions. She blinks in surprise. “Huh. I thought someone was there. I guess not.”

Ellen eyes her critically with the experience of a nurse of over a decade, used to people lying to her face despite the truth being obvious. Vivian must look pathetic, because the other nurse purses her lips and says “Girl. Go take a few minutes to clean up. You look like death warmed over—“ There’s a chuckle of amusement in her memories, whisper thin like smoke. “—Do you want me to give Mrs. Smith her shot of AIONASE?

Vivian jerks her head up in surprise. “What? Why are we giving her that?? Her quality of life is shit! Why prolong her suffering??”

Ellen looks like she swallowed a lemon. “Her daughter is in vast amounts of denial; refuses to listen to every doctor and neurologist that says her mother isn’t going to get better and decided her Mom “is strong” and “can get through this” like she’s gonna walk out of here or something. Swear you should have to take a medical class before becoming someone’s POA. Shit like this should be considered abuse by proxy.”

Vivian feels the weight in her chest tug her lips down, feels guilt pulse through her heart with each beat. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, willing herself not to cry or rage or something. “No… No, I got it. It’s fine.”

Her coworker eyes her again. “If you’re sure… If you need me, I’ll be in Mr. Delmar’s room changing his bandages. The fool peed on them again.”

Vivian gives her a smile that fools no one, waits until her friend disappears around the corner before sliding into the closest bathroom and throwing up everything in her stomach until she’s dry heaving into the bowl. She splashes her face with cold water until she resembles a regular human again, drinks enough water from the tap until her belly feels uncomfortably full, waits for the heavy nausea in her stomach to pass, before heading to Mrs. Smith’s room with AIONASE feeling like a loaded gun in her hand.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Smith!” Vivian’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She closes the door behind her, the click of the slider feeling like the final nail in a metaphorical coffin. It cuts off all the noise from the hall. Mrs. Smith says nothing, locked into her body after having a brain injury and now is unable to move, eat, talk, or do anything except lay in bed all day. The woman had been active before her TBI and now can do nothing except. Vivian imagines that this is a fate worse than death for the woman, that the relief in her eyes when some other health problem emerges tells the staff that she’s waiting for the day death welcomes her with open arms.

Now she won’t even get that.

Vivian takes another deep breath and continues on as if Mrs. Smith responded to her greeting, as if there’s more than the sound of a ticking clock in the room.

Tick-Tock

“Your daughter wants you to have AIONASE to give you a longer time to recover. It is an injection, so I have to put it in your arm.”

She sees confusion in Mrs. Smith’s eyes, followed by recognition, and then intense blinding fear. Vivian’s stomach clenches, her nose burns, and her fingers tremble.

Tick-Tock

She sees her patient screaming through her eyes and hesitates, considers not giving her the injection, considers lying and saying she did. But, she’d be found out eventually when Mrs. Smith eventually died and she’d be fired and lose her license. She’s stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Tick-Tock

“It’ll start working right away. You might feel some tingling in your arm but that’s normal.” Her voice shakes but she recites the words like she has before dozens (hundreds- thousands) of times. She doesn’t look Mrs. Smith in the face when she injects her and maybe that makes her cowardly to temporarily dehumanize her so she can get through this without throwing up in the waste basket next to her. Her fingers tremble and she nearly misses so she has an excuse if asked— not that anyone will ask since it’s just her and Mrs. Smith.

Tick-Tock

Vivian withdrawals the needle and looks over, sees the five stages of grief flash through Mrs. Smith’s eyes before they settle on resignation and then finally nothing at all.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, throat tightening again. She feels phantom fingers rubbing across her shoulders like a memory from long ago. “I’m so so sorry, I-“

She cuts off because there’s nothing she can say to make this better, nothing to comfort her with. Mrs. Smith’s only response is for tears to build up in her eyes and fall down her face. Vivian goes to wipe the tears away but Mrs. Smith stares at her with such blatant hatred and loathing that she might as well have slapped her. A childish naive part of her hopes the hate is enough to power through this, spite pushing her to start moving again. The logical rational side of her knows this will never happen and she’s doomed to listen to the sounds of a broken clock stuck on the same number second, clicking over and over again. So she gathers her trash, deposits the needle in the sharps container, and leaves the condemned woman to her fate.

Tock-

In the future, medical science has advanced to the point where people are functionally immortal. However, the Grim Reaper likes to visit people on the day they would have died of natural causes for a talk.

#writers #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #writeblr #writing inspiration #grim reaper #medical #healthcare #dystopia #hurt no comfort

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silverlullabies · 1 year

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Remember in World Heroes Mission when Izuku was wanted for 12 murders even though he was only missing for like an hour tops and Todoroki was just like “what did you do?” Like this boy didn’t even question the legitimacy of the news reporter saying this, he 100% believed Izuku could have straight up gone feral and murdered someone and they probably deserved it.

Then, instead of tracking Izuku down and arresting him as he was legally obligated to do as a hero-in-training (even if the charges were fake and he knew it), his next step was to explain in excruciating detail how Izuku was gonna go on the run and hide from the police. Todoroki straight up was like “oh helping a fugitive escape is illegal, wow that’s to wild, I had no idea crazy how it be like that.”

Todoroki is a whole ass “ride or die” and I love him for that.

The post about Tododeku being considered some kinda vanilla ship was taken straight out of my mind... Cos y'all know what happened right? Todoroki saw Izuku give no shits while throwing hands with a freaking genetic abomination and thought "Imma challenge this crazy mofo" and then he accused him of being a secret love child and followed it up with unloading tragic backstory(tm). After that they valiantly tried to murder each other on national TV, live...Izuku broke his everything and permanently disfigured his hand and Todoroki somewhat overcame a lifetime of trauma via talk no jutsu. They also blew up the arena by virtue of thermodynamics and almost killed everyone if it wasn't for an overworked cementoss. The next time we see them, they are ride or die. Todoroki just booked it to a shady alley to fight a serial killer cos of a freaking location ping. Then Shouto joined the Bakugou Rescue Squad(tm) cos Izuku said so..no questions asked. Let's not forget that Izuku, hero fanboy and anxious Duracell bunny stood up to Endeavour BEFORE he knew the tragic backstory(tm). Tododeku is just straight up ride or die. And the fact that people think they're a vanilla ship, platonic or romantic...just amazes me.... Cos these two would most definitely commit light recreational murder(tm) and call each other to for a cute evidence destroying and body hiding session.

You are right and you should say it.

I am very attached to the Todoroki/Midoriya fight because it's nothing short of insane.

It starts with Todoroki (accidentally?) eavesdropping Uraraka and Tenya mentioning that Izuku is eating with All Might. Similar quirk + Midoriya risking his life to save All Might (someone who shouldn't need help) and so he immediately put on the tinfoil hat.

Just before the Sport Festival starts, Todoroki challenged Midoriya, someone who can't use his quirk without breaking his bones, instead of Bakugou, aka the other strongest fighter in the class.

And Todoroki turns out to be right because the sheer possibility of Izuku using his quirk too close to him during the "Grab a headband" fight made him use his flames for a moment, which is a pretty big deal.

Todoroki then lures Izuku to an isolated area, it's the first time they actually talk to each other for real, and Todoroki proceeds to ask him if he is the Symbol of Peace's secret bastard child???

He then doesn't even give a second to Izuku to recover from it and tells this kid, that he has pretty much never talked with before, his entire tragic backstory.

As someone who protects their secret more fiercely than a dragon protects their gold, this one shook me more than the actual content of the tragic backstory. There is also the fact that it was a huge risk on Todoroki's part as it was possible for whoever listened to him not to believe him.

Izuku then sees Endeavor. I am not surprised about him talking back to him because Izuku has social anxiety but doesn't have much patience when it's more serious. And yes, from his expression, it's pretty clear he believed Todoroki.

Izuku goes to this fight mentally prepared to snap as many fingers as necessary to win. He doesn't have any other way to fight Todoroki.

Not only does he break many bones in this fight but he pretty much tells Todoroki "You ain't shit" because Todoroki never managed to hit Midoriya. All his damage is self inflicted so far.

At some point, Todoroki wonders if his dad has paid Midoriya to convince him to use his fire, which is very funny to me.

Izuku actually directly punches Izuku with OFA at some point, which is a pretty good deal as at the time, he avoided it in order not to turn his opponents in chunky salsa.

"IT'S YOUR POWER!"

Enough said.

Once the flames were unleashed, they both decided to just unleash their full power on each other.

That something they didn't even do in the USJ, while fighting villains.

You said that an overworked Cementos is the reason why they didn't killed everyone by the virtue of thermodynamic but since the walls were created were vaporized, I am more leaning towards their attacks cancelling each other.

And don't forget how they didn't really talk to each other during this fight, and yet, they quickly understood what the other was trying to say and why they were doing this.

No, seriously, they shared a glance to say "Hey, want to beat the crap out of each other to evacuate some trauma?", the other mentally answered "Yes!" and the next thing Midnight knew, there was no more arena.

And that's just the Sport Festival.

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