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battle-subway-ghost · 27 days

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Unraveling.

// Please read the tags beforehand, <3

Paris leaned against the tree trunk, making a desperate attempt at catching his breath. He had been running for- He didn't know, probably hours? He checked the time with his phone, but it still read 3:27 A.M. Same as it had been for probably hours- He didn't know. he couldn't tell… He checked the battery icon at the top- it was nearly dead. The signal may have read "SOS," but he had already tried multiple times to call for help. Nothing.

He wasn't about to try again- Something about the definition of insanity… and instead he put his phone back into his pocket, properly shutting it off to try to conserve what little battery was left. Paris had the urge to sit down for a little while; the muscles on his legs burned, and he was completely exhausted from running for so long. Stupid choice- he knew it wasn't a good idea to run around in the fog like a headless Torchic while he was already lost, but every time he considered standing still and waiting for this stupid, stupid fog to fade, he thought back to…

That. He shuddered, trying to focus on anything else besides that voice- his own voice, feeling a familiar chill crawl up his spine as he started to grow tense again. He could just imagine approaching footsteps- those hollow eyes, the-

He felt something seeping onto his hand, and cried out in surprise as he immediately moved away from the tree, trying to shake off the…

Black ink. Leaking out from the tree like sap. Paris stared at his hand, feeling his head pound at the sight of the stuff… He did his best to wipe it off of his hand, though he didn't have much besides his own clothes to do so. Still- it was better than nothing, at this point.

…He wasted no time getting on the move again, wandering further into the fog, trying to listen closely for any odd noises or disturbances. He couldn't trust his eyes anymore, as the fog had grown so thick that he could barely see past the length of his arm. Paris tread carefully, avoiding tripping on any loose roots or branches on the forest floor. How big was this forest, anyways? Surely he would've found his way out by now.

Then again, this wasn't the same place he had entered however long ago now. He wasn't sure how, but he just knew. He just had to keep walking now, he wasn't even sure if this would get him out, but he couldn't stay still. Not right now.

Paris stopped in his tracks as he heard a twig snap to his left. He turned immediately, nearly giving himself whiplash with how quickly he moved. He instinctively backed away, already tensing up to run-

And there it was.

A Thievul. the Thievul. That damned thing, staring back at him with those hollow, white eyes.

At last.

Paris charged at him, pursuing him as he turned tail and fled. The Thievul was swift, but he was determined to catch him, maybe if he did, it'd put an end to this torment. He wove through the trees with a precision Paris couldn't quite match, as he seemed to blend in with the fog at times- like he was about to fade into it. Paris pressed on, despite the burning in his lungs and the stiffness in his legs.

He finally got close enough to where he could tackle that thing, grabbing him with his hands-

Only to grasp at nothing but air.

Paris hit the ground, falling face first into the dew-covered grass. It took him a moment to recoup and process what happened, as he scrambled to get up, looking around for the Thievul. He was nowhere to be found, as if he vanished into thin air. The fog was starting to clear up a bit, and from what Paris could tell, he had been lead to a clearing in the woods.

He was fuming. He had gone here for nothing! Nothing at all! Revenge- Or even just closure, simply gone! Like that! No fanfare- no anything.

He yanked at his hair, yelling out of pure rage. Rage at the thievul, at himself for allowing it to escape, frustration over this entire stupid situation and this stupid fog and this stupid forest and EVERYTHING-

He stopped after a few moments passed, and finally opening his eyes, watery from the threat of crying. He looked up, seeing- black… patches? He blinked a few times, trying to clear up the blurriness in his eyes. Surely-

No. His eyes weren't playing tricks on him. The fog had receeded at an unnaturally fast rate, but… There was darkness. the inky-black dark of the ink, starting to spread through tears in the scenery, almost. He could feel the panic building in his chest, attempting to run the other way, only to find that the ground underneath him was starting to fade into the same black ink that was beginning to surround him. Paris screamed, trying to pull himself out, only to find that every time he put his foot down he simply got dragged deeper into the inky abyss. He could feel the substance clinging to his skin, unnaturally warm, almost pulsating… like breathing-

Something painful tugged against him, finally prompting him to glance down. his arms- the muscles were starting to twitch and twist unnaturally, his skin shifting around to compensate for the changes underneath. It was agonizing, muscles beginning to stretch and tear, before attempting to mend themselves again.

He howled in agony, nearly collapsing into the ink entirely, barely able to steady himself. it burned. His right arm in particular was getting the worst of it, the sensation similar to what he imagined it'd feel like having your arm ripped off.

…And much to his horror, it was actually hanging loose when he checked. the skin peeled away like wet cardstock paper, revealing red thread coiling around the remnants of the arm, as well torn ligaments and muscles trying to keep everything together- to no avail. It broke apart entirely, and fell into the ink below, slowly sinking down. There was no blood, instead, frayed and torn red thread hung down from what was left.

Paris collapsed- finally, into the ink. It was a miracle he had even been able to stay standing for so long, given that it seemed like he could fall apart like bad paper mache at any second now. He sputtered and coughed as he accidentally breathed in the ink, trying to pull his head back up. He couldn't breathe- it clung to him like tar, pulling him down further- further into the abyss.

Everything was falling apart. the trees falling apart like flayed seams- unraveling before his eyes, leaving nothing behind besides the pitch black abyss.

His head finally sank underneath. The last thing he saw was the bright red string- cutting through the dark abyss as it drifted upwards.

He shut his eyes, and the searing pain melted away.

Silence, at last.

#// edit at noon: hey guys j am so sorry I forgot to put this under a read more. I thought I did #body horror tw #drowning tw #suffocation tw #limb loss tw #amputation tw #<- Well. Not EXACTLY but. best descriptor #hallucination tw #and once again #WHATEVER THE FUCK THIS IS TW #// as always ask to tag #ooc #off-blog post #the unraveling arc #pkmn irl #high stakes pokeblogging #// hoooguh i worked on this for way too long. Yay yippie wahoo

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melodyofthevoid · 1 year

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Bodies are Business and Business is Good

Tw: blood, torture, amputation, etc. (It’s Heather)

Word Count: 3,326

There were fewer things more satisfying, Heather thought, than the slight hiss of the gas lamp in her work office.

A frankly wonderful modern invention, much more controlled than simple wax candles and less likely to blow out at a moment’s notice when she had her back turned or was in the middle of delicate work. Natural light wasn’t exactly an option, not here. And her clients tended to demand their money’s worth.

Plus, it was so nice to listen to the small intake of breath when her victims realized she was there. And the narrowing of their eyes as she became fully visible.

She turned the key and struck a match, blinking as her own eyes adjusted to the light, bouncing off of the thick carved stone and cast iron tools lining the walls. The vials and jars just waiting to be filled. And, shining off of the few exposed scales of the exhausted mer panting and strapped to her operation table.

As expected, they flinched when she descended the stairs, pulling at the restraints with all of their might. Clearly not enough, but a valiant effort.

“Apologies for the delay, but since you so stubbornly held onto your disguise, it put a damper on my evening plans the other day. I’m sure you must be thirsty.”

The angel fish snarled, flaring their bright yellow tail and thrashing harder, their scales– iridescent– bright blues, yellows and greens that would make for excellent amulets or accessories.

She made a note to get more leather and wire for the necklaces. Accessories sold well. Not as well as her other products, but well enough. A status symbol to those who were in the know.

“Fuck off- you- you-”

“Bitch? Monster? I’m sure I’ve heard it before. Believe me, I have.”

A well in the back, hidden by a few boxes, caught her victim’s eye as she walked over to it, grabbing a nearby bucket and pumping it full. Saltwater smell filled the air, overpowering the metallic tang of Heather’s tools.

The mer eyed the bucket, thrashing less as she approached. Ah, good. Maybe this one would be cooperative. Or somewhat more cooperative.

“Actually… Before we get started, and I let you have this, I have a simple question for you. Do you happen to know the location of any other mermaid colonies? You don’t have to tell me all of them, just one or two.”

Any relief that the mer–oh what was their name again? It didn’t really matter, the mer’s relief vanished, eyes narrowing to slits and their fins flaring out.

“Tell you- no. Fuck you. You and your dog won’t get your hands on any more mer- not if I can help it.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing, he is something of a dog, look at you.”

She ran a hand along their tail, ghosting over the gashes that lined it. Wounds that’d barely scabbed over during transport. Other bruises and scratches marred their skin and fins. Heather scowled. Charles was new, but that didn’t excuse abject incompetence.

This would put something of a dent in what she could sell. Charles would be compensated accordingly.

“I told him minimal damage, and yet here you are. Can’t even follow basic directions right. But I digress. If you won’t offer what I need, there’s no sense in dragging this out.”

Heather mulled over where to start, eyeing her knives and branding rods. Carving took longer, but risked too much thrashing for a clean cut. Fins, for all of their use, tore rather easily if not handled properly.

Morro —ah, right that was their name— looked to be healthy enough that draining them first wouldn’t end in them bleeding out entirely.

The needle it was then.

“Now where did I put it… ah, here it is.”

She hummed under her breath, pulling out three glass jars, and her needle, cleaning off the point of it and eyeing Morro’s exposed forearms. A good thing that they were tense already. That certainly made things easier.

A particularly exposed vein on their right arm made for the perfect target and Heather couldn’t help the shiver that went down her spine as the metal slid into the skin, flesh giving way to the needle’s piercing point. So satisfying.

Immediately crimson blood filled the glass tank of the gun, flowing down to the tube and filling up the first jar. The lifeblood of her operation, so to speak. So many customers, all vying for that most viscous and vital of her products. And who was she to deny them when she was living testimony of its efficacy?

Of course she’d never give away all her trade secrets for her longevity. She wasn’t born yesterday.

Or even within the last half century.

In any case, the blood flowed easily, and already one jar gleamed with it. Full to the brim. Switching one out for the other, Heather placed it off on a table, taking a moment to admire the flicker of the gas lamp light against the glass and crimson. Perhaps one day she’d find some other substance, a gemstone, a resin, something that could capture the beauty of her craft.

She doubted it though.

With a second jar nearly filled, Morro’s skin showed the effects. Ashy, almost clammy in places. Their gaze unfocused and any attempts at thrashing much weaker than before. Reaching the limits of what they could give today.

Heather switched out the jars one last time, watching the stream slowly taper off as their breathing slowed down and body relaxed against their will. For their trouble, she poured some of the sea water in the bucket over them, giving them a pat on the shoulder as she extracted the needle from their vein and bandaged the wound. Some blood sluggishly seeping through the gauze.

“You,” Morro slurred, “you’ll pay for this. Indra will hunt you for the rest of your days.”

“Mmm, is that so? Tell me, how long do you think I’ve done this work?”

Her captive didn’t respond. Only glaring with bared fangs.

“Believe me, if your goddess really gave a damn, I’d think she’d have taken notice by now. I’m not going anywhere, and for the time being? Neither are you.”

“The debt will be paid- MHMPH!”

Heather tied the gag tighter, rolling her eyes.

“That’s enough out of you. I’ll spare myself the usual theatrics. Feel free to still scream though, I don’t mind. You’ll give me what I want either way.”

Finally, Heather could get to the real work.

Choosing the right knife to start with always proved to be the most taxing part of the work. She’d tried typical fish scalers in the past, but those were better suited for the fishmongers and fresh markets. The scales she worked with required more work than that. But on the other hand, using the back of the wrong knife chipped and damaged the scales, and no one wanted to buy half a scale.

Heather’s fingers danced along the different blades, intermittently picking one up, twirling it, feeling the heft and then setting it back down, moving on to the next one. Eventually she settled on her favorite, a long curving blade, sturdy and sharp. Tempered steel reflecting her own dark gaze back at her.

Starting from the base of the tail, as she’d done a thousand times before, she wedged the back end of it underneath the first line of scales, and pushed upwards.

The previously limp mermaid jerked up, a muffled yelp coming from beneath the gag. Of course, Morro barely possessed the strength to so much as twitch. Too tired to fully put up a fight, but Heather tightened the straps on their tail anyway. With that secure, she continued pushing up, the shining iridescent angelfish scales now tinted red at the base as they fell to the floor below. They’d be cleaned and polished later.

Despite the gag, Heather winced as the mer tried to shriek, to throw her off through the only means they had left. Admirable if it weren’t so annoying. She took a step back and stood back up, towering over her prey. Cooing with a voice as sickly sweet as she could make it.

“Oh relax, this isn’t even the worst part. But we can get to that if you want. It might make this seem pleasant in comparison. How does that sound?”

Morro shook their head, but she’d already flipped her blade around and dug it into the membrane of the main tail fin, slicing through with no resistance. The bright yellow would make for a lovely trophy for the right buyer.

It was a little too bright for her tastes though. It clashed with the decor.

Hitching breaths came from above, strained and hissing through clenched teeth. The poor thing was trying to keep themself calm even with the gag. She laughed, cutting through the dorsal and pectoral fins next, setting them aside to dry.

Muffled moans and cries left Morro and Heather checked their cheeks to see if there were tears. A frustratingly rare commodity. Not that they did anything but clients always wanted them. By all means she could just sell some sea water, but she had standards.

She clicked her tongue to see that there were no tears. A shame.

With the last of the fins removed, Heather spun her knife back around and continued peeling away the scales, with far less reaction this time, which was also in and of itself a shame. She liked the fight so long as she could still do her job. Heather’d done Morro a mercy if anything. After an amputation, pulling a few scales probably felt like nothing. Like pulling nails off of a hand freshly devoid of a few fingers.

Sometimes though, the sudden lack of fight signaled an end to that night’s session. Ignoring her subjects too much could be costly. Brushing the last few whole scales into a second bucket, Heather stood back up, examining her work.

Morro was slumped over, exhausted from the strain and blood loss. Wiping any excess off of her knife on her apron, Heather did her usual checks, pulse, reflex, breathing, etc. They were still alive, which meant that she’d get at least a few more pints out of them by the time they eventually kicked the bucket. It’d be such a waste if she only got one day’s worth.

They’d hold out longer than that, she’d make sure of it.

With a sigh, she got out her needle and thread, stitching up the gashes Charles left and cleaning out the wounds. Bandaging up the stump near the tail. No infections, and no potential loss. The blood was no good from a dead mer.

As much as she liked the final processing steps, she still had other orders to fulfill, and going out of her way to catch another prospect? A waste of her time and resources. Nothing wasted, not if she could help it.

Her hairnet came off, as did the gloves and apron, all placed in their proper places far enough away that any nearby officers couldn’t smell the fresh blood on her. She needed to replace the shirt though. Again. The price she paid for wearing white.

Ah well, no skin off her back. She disposed of any evidence once or twice a year. Fireplaces served a variety of uses.

A quick shower and a change of clothes left Heather feeling far more accomplished and relaxed now that the euphoria of her work had passed. There was a certain… thrill to it, to the slice of flesh under her knife. But getting lost in that feeling led to less than precise work. In less vials of blood and damage to the organs she needed to sell later. So, for the sake of her own work, she had to take breaks. Balance was key, and experience taught her well.

Maybe for the evening she could fully unwind with some luxury time. She’d just have to find that bottle of wine and those chocolates she’d been saving.

The glasses were in the cabinet of her office, so here was hoping that there weren’t any last minute visitors. She’d had enough business for the day.

Though as she entered the room from the back, she sighed. No such luck.

A certain red-haired captain stood in the main lobby, smoking a cigar. Blowing rings of smoke into the air with his usual air of disinterest. Odd, he’d delivered her fresh supply not even a year and a half ago. Confusion outweighed her irritation at the intrusion. For now.

“To what do I owe this visit, Captain?”

Fachnan exhaled, tapping the stray ash onto the floor. Sullying it.

Asshole.

“Ah, Heather. I was hoping you’d stay in that dungeon for a little while longer. I find it’s easier to take in your trophies without you drooling all over them. We were stopping here for a short time and well, I figured I’d drop by.”

“Mhm…sure.”

The twitch in Fachnan’s hand and dart of his eyes didn’t exactly scream “casual chat”.

“Why’re you really here, and make it quick. You’re getting ash all over my perfectly good carpet. I do try to keep an air of respectability here.”

“My apologies, your majesty, I’ll be sure to clean your lair to a shine.”

Heather’s jaw tensed, teeth close to grinding. Unnecessary stress meant unnecessary aging, deep breaths in, deep breaths out. She forced herself to relax, schooling her expression into neutral disdain.

“False deference doesn’t suit you, Captain. I’d get your nose off of the floor before I lose my patience.”

“Fine, fine. Since you’re in a hurry I’ll make it quick.”

Fachnan gestured wide, splaying himself across the couch in her office with all the grace and respect she’d come to expect. Letting out a sigh, Heather grabbed the first open bottle of wine she could find and poured some out. Counting down the minutes until he left.

“The reason for my visit is simple, I want to do you a favor.”

She arched her brow, sipping at her glass.

“You’ve just been a source of income for me, Lady of the Sea. Owe at least some of my success to you. I’ve got a tip you might be interested in, for a small price, of course. Can’t just give this sort of thing to any ametuer.”

Actively sending Charles out on another hunt before she could properly chastise him for damaging this merchandise? She’d pass.

Besides, she paid Fachnan for tangible work. If she threw her fortune any idiot who walked in promising a lead, she’d have exhausted her coiffers long ago. Her decades of experience were worth far more than what one measly captain thought he knew.

“Charming, but I’m not looking to take on another project or search for one at the moment. Frankly, I don't like drawing more attention to myself than necessary. You know how these new officers get, all bright eyed and full of belief in ‘law and order’. The guard’s changed in the past few years, and I’m not exactly looking to make any waves at present. The fewer bodies, the better.”

She sipped at her wine once more, mulling over the best way to politely but firmly tell Fachnan to fuck off. Alone time was calling her name like the sirens she cut to ribbons.

“Well that’s a shame. Here I thought you were interested in a shark mer. Guess not then.”

With an inhale, the wine went down her throat and Heather choked and coughed. It burned all the way up to her sinuses, but nothing compared to the spark of interest. Still catching her breath, she unlatched a compartment in the desk behind her, pulling out a sharpened knife and setting it on the wood beside her.

He could lie or take out his sword if he wanted, but her reputation spoke for itself. There’d be one winner here.

“I see I have your attention then,” he smirked, “I’ll admit, the gold was a bluff. This one’s on the house.”

“Bullshit. What do you want?”

“Fine, this mer in question is something of… a thorn in my side. You taking care of her would be doing me a service, Madame Butcher. She appears to be a hybrid, if that sweetens the deal.”

It did. Quite a bit in fact.

“And you’re sure about this?”

“Dead certain. Last saw her face off the coast of Paign. Goes by the name of Delta. About seven feet tall, blue fins, blue coat, she’s fairly hard to miss. Has a whole crew of mer from what I could tell.”

A whole crew… she let out a breath.

“No shit. Typically I don’t get in the middle of feuds, or do bounty work for that matter, but just this once? I think I can agree with that. In fact…”

Heather stood up, walking over to a mahogany cabinet, carved with intricate flowers and vines. An inherited piece, and not even a forced one. They’d handed it over after the funeral, which was well and good. Natural causes were less messy to deal with generally speaking. She pressed the central-most flower’s petals and the compartment toward the bottom opened up, shining vials revealed within it.

“A gift, to a valuable partner. For your health.”

She held out a crimson vial. Heart blood.

“I’d like to keep my more reliable freelancer at sea for a few more years.”

Seconds ticked by, and Fachnan shook his head, “No, like I said. This one’s free. I just want her gone.”

Pirates and their honor codes. She rolled her eyes and set the vial back into its case.

Although speaking of…

“By the way, how’s that associate of yours doing? Changed his tune yet? I know he’s got quite the reputation for finding what he’s looking for. I’d like to use his expertise.”

Deep lines set into Fachnan’s face as he glanced away. Shoulders lowered. His bravado evaporated leaving behind only bitter salt.

“He and I won’t be seeing each other any time soon, gods willing. My only hope is it was quick.”

Ah. So it was like that then.

“I see, I apologize. I’ve been rather busy as of late, haven’t kept up with the times. My condolences for your loss.”

He grit his teeth, expression darkening further.

“It was his decision. We parted ways some time ago. He knew the risks of going soft, and look where it got him.”

“Well, that is how it is sometimes. Connections come and connections go. Time stops for a lucky few.”

The dots weren’t hard to connect, as hard as Fachnan fought to keep his aloof persona intact. Whatever drama or series of events led to this, frankly she didn’t care. What mattered was her prize. He could mourn his lost flame all he wanted on his own time.

With the last of his cigar fully gone, Fachnan stared at the embers before standing up from the couch, lifting his chin to look down at her. She met his gaze with a smile every bit as sharp as her tools.

“I’ll be heading off then. Send word when you need my services again.”

“Oh I will, don’t you worry. Thank you for stopping by, your help is much appreciated.”

He didn’t respond, only turning for the door and leaving Heather alone with her wine and her thoughts. Her smile stretched wider across her face and she let out a laugh, growing in intensity as euphoria set in.

A shark. A shark hybrid.

Looked like she’d have to clear her schedule to ensure that this… Delta could get all the attention that Heather could offer. Get the care and quality work that she deserved as the future crown jewel of her collection.

Morro could be rest assured that their suffering would be brief. She had preparations to make.

#my writing #ocean idiots #please enjoy!#I've had this one banked for a bit and I'm still super proud of it #gotta do some more writing now that college is almost done #yippee #oh I'll put the tags down here too #blood tw #torture tw #amputation tw #heather is sadistic and though that's not a surprise she is actively butchering live people #so #ya know #also fachnan is a funny guy #wonder why he's got it out for delta #or one of delta's... associates #hehe #anyways

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nerves-nebula · 11 months

Note

Raphael’s Amputation Saga:

Warning, I had absolutely no idea how to end this one

——

He shouldn’t have been playing alone. He knew that, in the back of his mind. If any of the others tried to do what he was doing he would chase them down and drag them back home.

But Raph was different. He was bigger and smarter and stronger. He could find his way back because he was older and he knew how to not get lost. Plus, Leo had gotten Mikey and Donnie to play a game of knights and dragons with him and Raph hated that game. Leo always made him be the dragon. He didn’t like being the dragon. The dragon was the *bad guy*.

He also knew which sewer grate usually dropped all the coolest toys. From above he could hear human kids yelling and laughing, but he knew not to look. Looking meant someone could see him.

So he waited, holding onto his tail as he splashed in the water. It was getting really long, just like Dad’s. He liked using his tail to copy what Dad’s did, practicing to make it move the way Dad moved his when he taught them their ninja stuff.

He could swear he was getting better with it every day. He didn’t trip on it as much and he was good about making sure it wasn’t dragging where Mikey could step on it (even if Mikey thought it was funny). He could move it around easier, too! Donnie and Leo played a game to see who could jump over his tail longest while he was wagging it and it was the funnest most greatest game ever.

But now he was waiting.

He held his tail in his mouth as he bounced in the water of the drain pipe, giggling as he went. Maybe no one would drop a toy today. That would be sad, but at least he had some time to play by himself!

If he didn’t get any new toys today maybe he could come back and sneak up when it was dark. Sometimes kids forgot toys on the playground itself and he could take them to share with his brothers. Donnie was really good at fixing anything broken, too, so he could just grab anything!

Maybe he could convince them to play superheroes again and they could-

Something terribly loud happened up top. It was sharp and painful, banging multiple times. Something smashed against the grate of the drain and Raph froze, terrified.

He bit down.

He didn’t know why he bit down, but he did.

Raph knew he had sharp teeth. He’d bit Leo once when he was mad and Dad had had to give him stitches. Leo had been angry and scared for days after.

He didn’t realize just how much his bite hurt.

He kept his teeth clenched, though. Why wasn’t he letting go? Why couldn’t he let go?

His teeth sunk deeper into his own flesh.

The noises up top were still loud. He could hear some people screaming. He couldn’t understand their words but they were loud and there were so many and everything smelled like blood- so much blood.

—

He didn’t remember getting home. He must’ve let go of his tail at some point, but his mouth still tasted like blood.

He looked down at his tail. He must’ve dragged it through the water because it was less gross than he thought it would be, but it was still bleeding.

He had to hide it. Dad hated when they got hurt. He’d been in big trouble when he bit Leo and Dad would be so mad that he’d hurt himself. How could he do that? Why did he do that? Why didn’t he just *let go*?

He ran to the bathroom and tore into the first aid kit. They had to keep lots of stuff in it because Mikey was really good at getting scraped up and Donnie got sick a lot, so it wasn’t hard to find some bandaids to cover the bites.

He whimpered as he stuck the first bandage, the fabric soaking through with blood almost immediately.

He was gonna need a lot of bandages.

—

His tail wasn’t getting better. The bleeding had stopped but now it was turning gross colors and it was turning black. It hurt really bad, too.

Thankfully, Dad hadn’t noticed yet. He had been a lot more cagey lately, determined they didn’t leave the lair. Apparently whatever that loud thing was the other day was actually really bad and dangerous. He pretended to be scared to hide in his room but his tail hurt so bad he couldn’t help but cry.

The gross colored bit was spreading too. At first it was just in the scab, but by now it was spread almost halfway up his tail, making it hard to move it at all without hurting really bad. Worst of all, the bite started smelling bad and was oozing some gross stuff that he knew was bad.

He cried, hating himself for running away. He should’ve just listened to Leo and played the dragon. If he was a dragon he wouldn’t be hurting. He wouldn’t be hiding from everyone under his bed, sobbing, wishing he could curl his tail around him for comfort.

Donnie had already come in to check on him, but Raph had been able to get him to go away. Mikey and Leo wouldn’t be as easy to convince, and if Mikey or Leo found out he was hurt then they’d tell Dad and Dad would yell at him.

He was already in pain, he didn’t want to be yelled at.

He clutched his teddy bear close, burying his beak it its matted fur, staining it with more tears.

—

“Red! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Raph wailed, clinging to Draxum’s neck hard enough to start choking him.

“Why the hell did you let it get this bad?” Draxum hissed, trying to pull Raph’s arms looser around his neck while not dropping the already injured child, “This is terribly infected! Spirits alive, the end of it is practically already dead.”

In the end, Mikey or Leo didn’t have to find him. Draxum stopped by for a random visit and came looking for him. Now Mikey was crying and Leo and Donnie were holding him, looking at him like he was dying.

“What the hell do we do?”

“Well first we need to clean it and see how bad it is. Fuck, this is *not* what I meant when I said I had a doctorate, rat.”

The tub’s water was cold. He cried as the water touched his burning hot tail, painful and so shocking his vision went white.

Dad and Draxum continued to argue.

One of them grabbed his tail and pain laced through his body, ripping up through his spine, and he passed out.

—

When he woke up he was cold. He had a blanket placed over him and he was laid on the couch. He carefully moved to look at his tail.

It wasn’t better.

Someone had wrapped it in some white bandages, but he could see the gross ooze seeping through, and it still hurt.

He whimpered, pulling the blanket over his head, trying to hide.

“You have to consider that it will have to be removed.”

That was Draxum. He was using the voice he used just before him and Dad started yelling.

“Removed? And who will do that, Draxum? You?”

Dad was also using his going-to-yell-soon voice.

“Would you prefer the infection spread?” Draxum snapped, “It’s no wonder that it got infected in the first place, you’ve made your home in a den of filth.”

“Yes, let’s change the subject from you wanting to mutilate my child to the state of the home I’ve struggled to build for said children.” Dad hissed and something smacked against the stone.

“They are my children too!” Draxum finally yelled, ��You think I want to remove his tail? I’m not the one who let him play in disgusting waters!”

Raph sobbed, quiet and muffled beneath the blanket.

They wanted to cut his tail off?

He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, sliding off the couch, whimpering when his tail slid down onto the floor.

It hurt, but he didn’t want to lose his tail.

He could fix it.

He always fixed it.

Whenever Mikey got infections they cleaned them with cold water.

He knew where to get really cold water.

He could fix his tail and come back and show Dad and Draxum and they’d stop yelling and be so proud of him for fixing the problem all alone.

Maybe they’d even give him a reward for being brave and smart.

He stumbled across the lair, heading towards the east, where the coldest water was.

He could fix this.

—

Raphael was gone.

Splinter had lost the kids before, usually while they were playing, and he’d had his fair share of heart attacks from searching for the missing turtle.

This was different.

Raphael was ill. Not like Donnie, who got sick practically every other week, but actually ill. His tail was severely infected and the fever resulting from it had him delirious. He talked in his sleep and cried more in the past day than he ever had in his little life. The sound was both grating and heartbreaking.

He didn’t understand how this happened. Or, even worse, when. As much as he was loathe to admit, Draxum’s words stung and he was overly aware of all the unclean spaces of their lair. He would have to have the boys help him clean from now on. Their little hands would be able to clean the harder to reach spaces easier.

“This way.”

Draxum held some mystic compass in his hand. They’d had to dig one of the filthy bandages out of the trash for the magic to connect to Raphael, guiding them through the sewer tunnels to find where the boy had wandered off.

He couldn’t quite tell if he was furious at his son for wandering or terrified that perhaps he was having another delirious episode induced by the fever. Perhaps it was both.

Draxum lead them down a tunnel, his leggings pulled up and cinched tight around his thighs so they wouldn’t get soaked in the frigid autumn waters. They moved as quickly as they could, only communication through directions and an occasional grab of the hand.

(He did not enjoy holding Draxum’s hand through this. It was not comforting and did not help him through his panic.)

He swore they would never find him. They had been running through the sewers for what felt like hours. Would Raphael even be alive at this point? Would they be able to revive him? Would he lose one of his children? Would he have to explain to the others why they would never see Raphael again?

“He’s here.”

Splinter’s breath stuck in his throat and he dropped Draxum’s hand, hurrying forward into the tunnel. He could smell his boy, his nose twitching as he hurried forward, almost falling onto his hands as he forced himself to keep moving, to find his baby, his little boy-

Raphael was curled in on himself, half submerged in the frigid water. His face was under the water, oh fuck, what if he’d drowned?

He grabbed him, dragging him out of the water and off to the side of the tunnel, unable to hear anything but the blood in his ears and the frantic pounding of his own heart. He checked for a pulse, for signs of life, anything to tell him that his child was alive.

Raphael coughed.

Splinter nearly sobbed.

—

Raph wasn’t allowed to play for a long time.

Dad tried to explain to the boys as best be could, but Mikey didn’t understand. Donnie got sick all the time and he was able to keep playing after a few days. Leo got hurt constantly and he never had to stop playing. Why couldn’t Raph play with them?

“Raphael is very hurt and needs to heal. Playing could make it worse. Leave him alone.”

Playing never made anything worse, though! And Raph was the best to play with because he was so big and his shell was super easy to climb and his tail was the best jump rope ever.

Leo listened to Dad, but he clearly wasn’t happy about it. Mikey had found him sitting in front of Raph’s door a few times, claiming to be “guarding” him. Mikey knew he was just waiting for an excuse to go in.

Donnie locked himself in his room. Whenever Mikey snuck in he found Donnie on his computer, looking at things with way too many words for him to care. A few times he managed to get Donnie to take a break and play with him, but that usually didn’t last long.

Mikey missed Raph.

So obviously the only logical conclusion was that he had to go see Raph.

From an outside perspective, it wasn’t actually that hard. But to Mikey it was a super dangerous stealth and infiltration mission with probably dire consequences. His obstacles: Leo and Dad. He’d have to distract them both if he wanted to get into Raph’s room.

He hurried to the kitchen, digging through the pantry until he pulled out Leo’s favorite cereal. With a mischievous giggle, he upended the box, dumping it onto the floor in a big mess, leaving the box aside before running off again to hide.

Sure enough, eventually, Mikey heard Splinter shout for Leo, sounding very upset. Leo hurried off from his spot in front of Raph’s door. Mikey dashed over, sliding in without a sound. He flapped his hands, grinning as he tiptoed over to Raph’s bed.

“Raphie?”

Raph didn’t respond.

He circled around so he could see his brother’s face, and frowned when he found he was asleep. It was the middle of the day!

“Raphie.” He pushed his hand against Raph’s nose, “Raphie, wake up.”

He grinned when his brother’s eyes finally slid open and landed on him. His pupils were HUGE, but he looked at Mikey with familiarity. He trilled, soft and sad, his hands moving slow to reach out for Mikey’s.

“What’s wrong?” Mikey climbed up onto the bed, laying down next to him, “Are you hurt?”

Raph chirped an affirmative. He wrapped his arms around Mikey, resting his head against Mikey’s plastron, churring sleepily.

“You can’t play?”

Raph shook his head.

“Oh. Can I stay and nap with you?”

He nodded.

“Okay lemme get comfy.”

They adjusted a bit, laying down together so Raph could hold onto Mikey like a big teddy bear, and Raph quickly fell back asleep.

Mikey didn’t. His mind was going way too fast, so instead he imagined cars racing on the back of Raph’s shell, humming their engine sounds as Raph snored on his chest.

He didn’t understand why Raph couldn’t play, but it was easier to accept after seeing him himself.

Mission successful!

Draxum watched Michelangelo sneak into Raphael’s room from his spot in the corner. He went completely unnoticed, glancing up from his book as the children spoke for just a moment before curling up together. Splinter would want him to chase Michelangelo off, to let Raphael rest after his amputation, but it seemed the usually overly-excited child was willing to be calm and so he saw no harm.

Plus he really didn’t want to deal with any crying.

Later he would chide Michelangelo for breaking the rules, but for now he supposed it was okay.

——

I loved writing Splinter being scared for Raph’s well-being. Dude’s just trying to keep four kids he never asked for alive and now one of them is sick and missing???? Shit fuck fuck shit oh fuck oh shit

Featuring half-decent Dad(?) Draxum.

-Monster Anon

FUCK I FORGOT TO POST THIS when i first read it SOBB

no but i fuckin !!! LOVE THIS!!! I love the way Mikey's little kid brain doesnt really understand until he sees raph SSOBBBb Raph leaving to try to fix it and cause he's scared of draxum & splinter shoutinggg, guhhhghasgdhsdf

and LEOOOO keeping GUARDDD aUAGHAUDG

#nnstuff #ask #neglected fic #teenage mutant neglected turtles #medical neglect tw #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #amputation tw #medical malpractice #<- i feel like thats applicable since neither of them are doctors oops #child endangerment #tmnt raph #tmnt splinter #baron draxum

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whumppmuhw · 6 months

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I've had a scene rotating in my head for days and I need to get it out but it's so late right now and I need to sleep so here's a snippet

...

"Whumpee, I've taught you that a servant should always accept a punishment, no matter who it comes from, correct?"

"Yes, master. However...she was going to cut off my arm."

"I know. You've said that enough times already. But for a time, she was your master, and so it's her duty to dole out whatever punishments she sees fit."

"..."

"Though, Whumpee, you're right. I don't like the way she abused you either. She won't be allowed back here."

"T-thank you, master, I'm sorry for causing trouble-"

"None of this was your fault. However, don't forget you are expendable. I really don't care what happens to you, but it would be a real shame to lose such a good servant. Especially not to someone like her."

"I'll be good for you, master, I promise-"

"I know. You have been. We'll sort this mess out, and then things will return to normal. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. I'd much rather be with you."

"Good."

#mine #master and servant #lady whump #amputation tw #carewhumper #conditioned whumpee #whump #whump writing

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phoenixyfriend · 2 months

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Ffs New York

#current events #nyc #injury tw #amputation tw #image description in alt

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silvershewolf247 · 12 days

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Angsty concept based on @high-functioning-fang1rl and @barclaysangel idea of Andy being scared of doctors.

This is basically an addition to an idea I already had. Where Kyle, Nica, and Andy are driving back to Illinois after the events of 2x7. But Andy passes out due to his infected leg, and he's hospitalized and has his leg amputated. Now I'm just adding that he is also freaking out when he wakes up in a hospital because of his fear of doctor's. Then he realizes he's missing a leg

#andy barclay #amputation tw

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squidthesquidd · 7 months

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Goretober day 3: amputation

more giratina possesion au cus this shit happens frequently in this <3

#submas #pokemon #pokemon black and white #pokemon bw #kudari #emmet #subway boss emmet #subway master emmet #gore #blood #gore tw #blood tw #horror #horror tw #amputation #amputation tw #goretober 2023 #submas angst #giratina possession au

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abhainnwhump · 1 year

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Frankenstein Whumpees

For those whumpers who got a little too carried away in the lab. (Content Warnings: Noncon body modification, death, resurrection, dismemberment, gore, amputation.)

The classic. Whumper kidnaps Whumpee to experiment on and uses the body parts of other Whumpees to do arts and crafts. Dead or alive, your choice.

Stitches and nails for pure aesthetic reasons.

Lobotomies. If they look like a mindless monster, act like a mindless monster, and sound like a mindless monster, why wouldn't they be a mindless monster?

Ripping off limbs and leaving them off.

Whumpee died under all the torture. Whumper either is too attached or refuses to let Whumpee go that easily.

Animal limbs. Adding tails, paws for hands/feet. gluing fur, replacing limbs, ears, and eyes.

Cutting out their tongue and/or vocal cords so they can only make groaning sounds.

Whumper is a sucker for Halloween, but doesn't like any of the monster costumes in the store. So they do the rational thing and turn Whumpee into the monster. What happens to Whumpee when the Halloween season is over?

Whumper collects people like Pokémon cards with unique features. Heterochromia, dyed hair, six fingered hands, etc. Then they combine those traits into one.

Once Whumpee is freed (if they're freed), what do their friends think? What does Caretaker think? Do they sympathize with Whumpee or call them a monster? Help them adapt or kick them out?

Whumpees who hate themselves or are insecure about their body after what happened. Maybe they use a lot of makeup or heavy clothes to cover it. Plastic surgery if the surgeon is brave enough.

Bonus: Whumper screaming "IT'S ALIVE!" once they're done with Whumpee. Whumpee just wants five more minutes of sleep.

#whump #noncon body modification #creepy whumper #multiple whumpees #whump writing #whump prompt #whump things #amputation tw #lab whump #lab rat whumpee #horror prompt #noncon piercings #body horror

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 6 months

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There Never Was a Choice

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 4. Betrayal, 6. Forced to Hurt Someone Else, 13. Crushed, 14. Field Medicine, 16. Amputation, 29. Forced to Choose Fandom: For All Mankind, Ed Baldwin, f!reader Summary: When an accident on Jamestown Base leaves you trapped, Ed must make an impossible decision. Word Count: 3702 TW: Amputation, Heartbreak, Depression, Begging, Betrayal, Language, Implied Age Gap in Relationship Notes: Thank you to @loverhymeswith for the GIF and ask that inspired this fic! 💖 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Takes place between season 2 and season 3

Even before he opened his eyes, Ed heard the screaming. It was a high-pitched keen of agony that was reverberating all around the tight enclosed space. And while he knew he needed to get up—to go investigate—the back of his head was throbbing so fiercely that he didn’t even want to open his eyes for fear of making it somehow worse. All he wanted to do was sink back into the dark numbing abyss and sleep off the pain.

“Get this goddamn thing off me!”

Ed’s eyes snapped open before quickly recoiling from the light. However, he blinked away the pain and forced himself up onto unsteady feet. All desire to succumb to unconsciousness evaporated the moment he heard your agonized voice and realized it had been you screaming this whole time. Instead, a fresh wave of adrenaline and dread pushed him forward towards the crowd of people on the other side of the room.

As the other astronauts noticed him approaching, they silently moved aside, everyone avoiding his gaze. And it was then that he finally saw you.

You were lying on your back in a pool of blood that was slowly growing larger. At first glance, you seemed relatively fine. There were some small cuts on your face and arm but nothing that would put you in the kind of agony he had heard moments before. But then Ed noticed your left arm disappearing beneath a pile of twisted metal beside you. He had no idea where the debris had come from, however, it had clearly trapped your arm beneath it.

Your face was pinched in pain but as soon as you saw him standing there, it softened slightly. “Ed,” you moaned, reaching out toward him with your freed arm. He quickly knelt down and took your hand in his. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” he asked incredulously. “You’re the one currently pinned beneath heavy machinery.”

“Yeah, well, it’s obvious I’m not alright. But you hit your head in the explosion and that can’t be good for you, old man.” You were trying to stay upbeat and your usual snarky self, but underneath the forced levity, Ed could hear the pain and fear in your voice.

“I think we both know there’s not much up there worth damaging,” he joked back, trying to keep the same false lighthearted tone as you were. Squeezing your hand tighter, he added, “But I’ll be alright and so will you. Just wait and we’ll get you outta there.”

You snorted. “Where am I gonna go?”

But then a shiver of pain ran through your body. Your face twisted into an agonized grimace as you squeezed Ed’s hand so tightly he felt his bones crunch in your grasp. However, he made no move to stop you. Instead, he brushed the hair off your face with his free hand and waited for your pain to fade.

Once your grip lessened some and you seemed to relax, Ed murmured, “Hey, I’ll be right back, okay? I just need a minute then we’ll get this figured out. Hold on.”

You nod and reluctantly let go of his hand. As he stood up, Ed grabbed the closest person to him and pulled the young man across the room so they were out of your earshot. The man seemed flustered and unsure of why he had been dragged away, but Ed put up a hand before he could speak.

Glancing down at his suit, Ed saw his patch read “N. Corrado” and after scouring his still foggy brain for a moment, he remembered you mentioned your friend Nick was coming to the moon on the next rotation along with the supplies. Considering this man had just arrived two days earlier and was the only astronaut Ed hadn’t recognized, he was pretty sure he must now be speaking to your friend.

“What happened? Start at the beginning.” Nick opened his mouth but Ed interrupted once more. “I need the quick and concise version.”

And that was what Nick gave him.

They had been trying to update Jamestown and expand the base with new equipment they had just received from Earth a few days ago. Ed had obviously known that part. But what was news to him was that while trying to install the new air system, one of the oxygen tanks exploded, damaging not only the new system but the equipment around it as well. The team managed to throw up the emergency shields so the base wasn’t in danger of depressurizing or losing air, but there had still been two injuries in the accident.

One of the pieces had been thrown off and hit Ed in the head—hence his headache and unconsciousness—and they had carefully moved him to the other side of the room so he was out of the way while they dealt with the real problem…you.

You had been right next to the tank when it exploded, sending you, the remains of the tank, and several other parts of the base flying across the room. It was a miracle the debris had only landed on your arm and not the rest of you, otherwise they would be planning a funeral rather than an extraction.

Ed took in everything Nick said with a growing dread in his chest. That equipment was incredibly sturdy and heavy to ensure it could withstand the deadly conditions on the moon. If there was a leak or crack in any of it, it could mean the death of the entire base. Because of this, the metal was three times thicker than necessary just to be on the safe side. This was why everything had to be moved with loaders and other transportation equipment—all of which were too large to fit inside the base itself. And since you were currently pinned in one of the inner rooms of the base—

Another one of your wails filled the room as the rest of the crew tried again in vain to remove the debris. Ed buried his head in his hands, wishing there was something he could do to stop your pain. But falling apart wasn’t going to help you. Right now, you needed him to suck it up and be the leader he had been sent on this mission to be.

So, taking a deep breath, he looked at Nick and asked, “So, what have you been trying to do to free her? Can we just turn the gravity off so we can push it off her?”

Nick shook his head. “We still don’t know how much damage the explosion caused. There’s a chance if we turn the gravity off, we won’t be able to turn it back on.”

Ed scrubbed his hand over his face. “Well, what about the saws we use for moon rocks? Can we cut the metal into smaller pieces and move them off?”

“We tried but it didn’t work on the metal.” But then Nick hesitated and Ed could see he wanted to say something else.

“What? What is it?” When Nick still didn’t reply, Ed took a step forward and growled in his face, “Corrado, we are not leaving her there to bleed out, so tell me what you are thinking.”

Nick swallowed heavily, then mumbled, “I’m not saying we leave her. Well…Not all of her.”

The meaning of Nick’s words hit Ed like a punch to his chest. Clenching his jaw firmly, he shook his head. “No. No, we’re not doing that.”

Nick bowed his head. “Sir—”

“No! We are not cutting off her goddam arm! Do you understand me?”

“I do,” Nick muttered meekly. But then he took a deep breath, raised his head, and looked Ed straight in the eye. “But I don’t think you understand, Commander. She’s losing blood and we can’t stop that until we can actually get to her arm. And even then, we can only stop the bleeding temporarily with what we have with us here. Which means she has to go home but it takes almost two days to reach Earth in the emergency shuttle. So we need to get her out of here right now if she has any chance of surviving.”

Having finished what he needed to say, Nick withdrew into himself once more as he averted his gaze from Ed’s. Mumbling softly, he added, “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just….she’s a good friend and the best astronaut we have. I understand how horrible this decision is and if there was any other way…”

Ed sighed. “No, you are right. I was just reacting to the situation without thinking it through. But we don’t have a choice here so we’ll do what we have to in order to save her life…Even if she hates us for it.” Nick squeezed his eyes together tightly, and Ed placed his hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, son. I’ll be the one to tell her. Just…just get the others ready. She’s not gonna take this well.”

Nick nodded and quickly scurried back to where the other crew members were gathered around you. Ed watched him whisper something to the medic whose head shot up and he looked at Ed. Ed nodded his consent before slowly walking over to your side once more.

You smiled as he knelt down beside you, but it was weaker this time. Pain and exhaustion had sapped your will to put on a brave face and seeing that was the final push Ed needed to know he was making the right decision.

Squeezing your shoulder, he said, “You need medical attention as soon as possible. I was hoping…God, I was hoping we had more time or another way, but you’re losing too much blood so we have to take the only option that will free you immediately.”

“You guys had a plan for getting me outta here just like that and you hadn’t done it? What kind of friends…” Your joke died in your throat as you watched Ed bow his head. It took a moment, but Ed felt you tense beneath his hand as soon as you realized what he was saying. Your eyes grew wide and you shrunk away from Ed as much as your pinned arm would allow. “No…you can’t mean…you can’t do that.”

Ed tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Believe me, this is the last resort. We can’t move the metal off of you which only leaves us with one option.”

“No, Ed, please! If you take my arm…that’s the end of my career. They’ll never let me in space ever again.”

He shook his head sadly. “It’s better than the end of your life if I don’t. I’m sorry. If there was any other way—”

“No! Don’t! Please! Ed…Ed, if you love me, you won’t do this.”

Ed felt every eye in the station suddenly focused on him. There of course had been rumors about the two of you—the hotshot commander and his brilliant prodigy—but there had never been any proof…until now. For two years, the two of you had managed to keep your relationship a secret but now the cat was out of the bag. However, he didn’t have time to deal with it right at that moment. Once he got you free and home safely, then he could worry about the repercussions of your relationship. Right now all he could focus on was saving your life.

Brushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, Ed murmured softly, “It’s because I love you that I have to do this. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

He nodded at the medic who had just stepped up next to you. The medic drove the syringe he had prepared while you and Ed were talking into your arm even as you thrashed and begged for him not to. Almost instantly, your body fell limp and your eyes rolled back in your head as the tranquilizer took effect.

For a moment, an eerily silence filled the base. All eyes were still turned to Ed, waiting for him to give the final confirmation that they should proceed. What needed to happen was horrible enough, but the fact Ed had to be the one to make that call, that he had to say the words that would change your life forever, was almost too much to bear.

Leaning over, he pressed his lips against your sweat-drenched forehead and said a silent prayer to a God he hadn’t believed in for over a decade. Then, turning to the crew, he mumbled, “Do it.”

Unable to watch what happened next, Ed turned his back to everyone and walked to the other side of the room as one of the saws buzzed to life. Even without looking, he could hear the pitch change as the saw began to bite into your flesh and bone.

Ed had tried to visit you every day since the two of you had landed in the escape pod and you were rushed into surgery but there had been one complication after another. Your body was still used to the conditions on the moon after having been stationed there for the past three months. Even a completely healthy body took time to readjust from that, but yours had been traumatized before reentering the atmosphere only to be then thrown into the immediate chaos of anesthesia, operations, and pain. It was no wonder they almost lost you on the table three times but somehow, mercifully, you pulled through in the end.

It took almost a full day for you to wake up after surgery but when you did and saw what had been done to you, you lost it. According to the report, it took three nurses to keep you from ripping out your IVs and tearing your stitches. It even got to the point where they had to sedate you for your own safety. And Ed had to learn all of this secondhand.

He had been examined to make sure everything was alright from where he hit his head, but then they had forced him from the hospital. Apparently, word had already gotten back to Earth before the escape pod had about his relationship with you and it was determined he should be kept far away from your recovery until there was an investigation to make sure no improprieties had led to the accident. But thankfully, Molly was slipping him any information she could on your well-being.

However, every update he got just broke him more and more. This shouldn’t be happening, not to you. You…who was on the path to lead the human race to Mars and beyond as the most talented and intuitive astronaut he had ever trained. You…who had been dreaming of exploring the vast unknown of space for longer than you could remember. You…who had turned his life around when he was spiraling into his own personal blackhole and rekindled his love for his job.

You……who he had fallen hopelessly and completely in love with.

It seemed impossible that not so long ago you were both lying naked in his bed, your head resting on his heaving chest as you leisurely ran your fingers through his damp hair. The two of you had talked about what would happen after this mission including the very real possibility of moving in together, consequences be damned. Ed had never seen you so happy or peaceful.

But now—

Five days after returning to Earth, Ed was finally told you had been taken off the sedatives and he was given permission to visit you. As he walked down the empty halls towards your room, he briefly wondered if Shane had taken his last breath in a place like this. So sterile. So white. So cold and unfeeling. God, he hated hospitals!

Reaching your room, he paused outside your door as he got his first glimpse of you since returning to Earth.

Your left arm had been severed just below your elbow and layers of gauze covered the end so Ed was unable to assess how well the surgeries had gone. You were hooked up to several machines to help you readjust to being back on Earth as well as ones you needed after your operations. All of it seemed fairly standard and not too concerning. But your eyes…your eyes were a different matter.

Ed had first fallen in love with your eyes. Not the color or anything like that, but the flames blazing within them. It was a fire that burned as brilliantly as the brightest star, born out of determination and drive. And quickly, he had become addicted to your light.

But now when he looked into your eyes, there was nothing. Just the cold emptiness of space.

However, he tried his best to push that thought aside as he stepped closer. “Hey, sweetheart. You feeling up to a visitor?”

You made no indication that you had heard him. You just continued to stare out the window with that same blank, emotionless gaze. It wasn’t an invitation in the slightest, but you also hadn’t told him to fuck off and leave you alone as Ed had expected, so he slowly stepped into the room.

As he came around the side of the bed and into your line of sight, your eyes shifted slightly to avoid looking at him yet you still didn’t turn your head or make any move to hide from him. Once again, a fairly promising sign.

Ed sat down on the far end of the bed, his hand resting just a or so inch from your blanket-covered legs. He smiled softly as he asked, “How are you? I-I wanted to come see you as soon as you got outta surgery but they said…they said it wasn’t a good time. But, uh, Molly says the doctors think you’ll be able to leave by the end of the week. That’ll be nice, huh? Getting to go home to your own bed?”

You didn’t move or make any acknowledgment of his words so Ed changed the subject in the hopes of sparking some reaction. “And I know it won’t be the same, but I’ve already talked to Margo and she has a few positions in mind for you once you’re ready to come back to work. Obviously, you’ll need some time but just because you can’t go back to space doesn’t mean your career at NASA is over. You can work in Mission Control, or become one of the instructors, or Margo said you might even qualify for Chief of the Astronaut Office. I guess that would make you my boss, then.” Ed forced a chuckle as he tried to keep the mood upbeat. “It’ll be nice to work together again, even if in different positions. They know about us now—after what you said at Jamestown I couldn’t hide it—but I think it’s gonna be alright. A little slap on the wrist but nothing I can’t handle. So once you come home, we can start on those plans we had. Maybe find a new house or apartment. You know, a fresh start for both of us. I think that’d be good—”

“Please, Ed. Just go.”

Your whispered words washed over him like a freezing rain. “Sweetheart, I—”

“Please. Leave me alone. Go and don’t come back.” You squeezed your eyes together tightly as tears began slowly streaming down your face. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Ed felt his world shatter around him. He knew you would be upset that he had made the call to amputate your arm, that it would take time for things to go back to the way they were—if they ever did at all. He had even prepared for the possibility you wouldn’t want to see him right now. But he never imagined you would want to cut him out of your life completely.

Sliding over so he was seated right next to your uninjured arm, he said, “Listen, I can’t even imagine how you are feeling right now but I’m here for you. I wanna help however I can and I know you’re gonna come back from this. Just don’t cut me out—”

“Ed, if you’re not out of this room in the next 60 seconds, I’m calling security.”

He blinked in utter shock as he finally realized how serious you were. But, surprisingly, what hurt even more than your threatening to have him forced from the room was the fact that your words and expression were still as lifeless and flat as ever. The you he knew—the you he loved—would have been screaming, snapping, hissing with anger as you threw him from your room. But now? It seemed as if your spirit had been left with your arm back on the moon.

“Okay. I’ll go.” Leaning over, he pressed his lips against your forehead and whispered, “But you know how to find me if you change your mind. Anytime day or night, I’ll be there. Just please…don’t give up on us.”

Ed straightened up, sniffing as he wiped the corner of his eye, and forced himself to walk towards the door. It was killing him to leave you alone like this, so broken and numb, but it didn’t seem as if you were giving him any choice. He just hoped, given time, you would relent and allow him back into your life.

But just as his hand reached for the door handle, you softly whispered from the bed, “There is no us—not anymore. You made sure of that.”

Without turning around, Ed said in a firm, clear voice, “I don’t regret my decision, not as your commander or as the man who loves you. And if we really are done because of what I did, I still wouldn’t change a thing. At the end of the day...there never was a choice. Because I would rather live in a universe where you are alive to hate my guts than one where you loved me but I let you die. And nothing you say will ever make me feel differently.”

And with that, Commander Ed Baldwin walked out of your life—though he still held out the slightest of hope that the door had not locked behind him.

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