#aside from eye scream and medical horror specifically | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mwolf0epsilon · 7 months

Text

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 7: Restrained

Summary: Biting his lip, Twitch's eyes ran up the thick strong strands of webbing that were keeping his arms bound. Then he looked down at the ones keeping his legs in place. He couldn't move at all, restrained for some as of yet unknown purpose, although what exactly he couldn't tell not did he particularly want to find out.

Warning: Mentions of fleshy walls, body horror and regurgitating into someone's mouth (bug behaviour does not translate well into human form it's gross :C) Twitch belongs to @gaeasun Pitch belongs to @lost-on-kamino

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

To say Twitch didn't expect this outcome when Krell cornered him in the medbay, is both an understatement and a bit ironic considering he did originally think something was going to go terrible wrong.

Truth be told, this entire campaign was going terribly anyway. Even before he'd tasked himself with his current research project which had landed him in this predicament. Although, come to think of it, he kind of deserved the aftermath didn't he?

When he'd thrown himself headfirst into figuring out what ailed his brothers, Twitch knew deep down that what he was doing was more of an attempt to run away from his current reality (one where he no longer had his batchers, his closest brothers, at his side to guide and console him), and a somewhat cowardly way to avoid all of the death that surrounded him. Even though he was still technically exposed to the last breaths of dying vode all the same... The enemy base's medbay becoming more of a morgue than an actual place of healing.

Returning from a mandated 30 minute nap and seeing Krell standing there had only meant one thing: More death. Another gruesome end to happen within what should have been a safe space.

And he'd been partially right! Just not how he'd expected.

The strand of thick white sticky gunk that had come from the ceiling and landed on the angry Besalisk's shoulder had given them both pause. And then, when both their gazes darted upwards to follow the strand back up to its origin point, time all but caught up with them.

Or rather, the thing that he sort of recognized as Dogma at the moment, had lunged with a shrill shriek.

Twitch wasn't particularly proud of freezing up at that instant. No clone liked the idea of being rendered helpless by their own survival instincts. Especially not a medic who was trained specifically to act under duress. But that was just how it worked out in the end. Which apparently worked in his favour.

The creature, the thing he suspected was Dogma in a later stage of the mystery sickness, had reacted rather poorly to movement. Be it the swing of a lightsaber (that seemingly had no effect on the thick carapace armour he now bore on his person), or other troopers rushing in to help when they'd heard the screeches and the screams.

The creature had simply ripped Krell to shreds as if he were nothing more than a doll, and thrown every other trooper aside with relative ease. Twitch had just barely registered the fact Appo had been bleeding before he felt the world tilt and the rush of cold air against his exposed face and hair. Everything happening at such a fast pace that his mind could barely keep up with everything.

Now here he was... Wherever this place was. He couldn't really recognize it, considering the state of it. What he could recognize was that he was bound up in some kind of web, watching Dogma as he brought in the patients the young medic had been fruitlessly attempting to treat over in the last couple of hours.

Bringing them to this semi-organic nightmare of a fleshy nest-like construct. Slotting them into honeycomb-like cells, before spitting up more webbing to swaddle them comfortably. And Twitch assumed it was meant to be comfortable, because he could see just how carefully and tenderly Dogma seemed to be tending to the other infected.

Nuzzling them. Chirping and clicking softly. Running gentle feather-light claws through sweaty curls to sooth the restless. Being less of the menacing monster that had ripped the General apart, and more of a nurturing being hellbent on making sure every single one of his guests were nice and cozy in their organic cots.

It was kind of cute if not for the fact this whole ordeal was extremely disturbing to observe. Morbidly fascinating, but prone to make one's skin crawl.

Biting his lip, Twitch's eyes ran up the thick strong strands of webbing that were keeping his arms bound. Then he looked down at the ones keeping his legs in place. He couldn't move at all, restrained for some as of yet unknown purpose, although what exactly he couldn't tell not did he particularly want to find out.

He hadn't been infected (at least he didn't think he had been since he felt perfectly ok and wasn't displaying symptoms), nor had Dogma been inclined to do anything to him besides making sure he couldn't move freely. So that couldn't be it. The other option was that maybe he was intended to be used as food, but then Dogma had also not demonstrated any outward aggression towards him. Not like when he'd savagely attacked Krell. If anything he'd been just as gentle in pinning him up, as he had been gentle with the sickly vode he was currently tending to.

That of course didn't mean Twitch wanted to stick around and thank him for his hospitality. He just couldn't see a way out of this mess just yet. Doubted he had a means to escape on his own, since he couldn't even reach the scalpel he'd hidden in his boot prior to all of this transpiring. Just in case the Umbarans managed to sneak back onto their base and he was caught without his blaster...

What could he do?

A soft and somewhat unassuming noise above him had Twitch glancing back up. The wall where he was sticking to just so happened to have a vent slightly above it. A vent from which two familiar faces were now cautiously peering out of. Staring back down at him.

Dogma had, thankfully, not noticed the newcomers. Far too engrossed with the task at hand to spare Twitch so much as a glance.

Great! Now how were Rex and Fives planning to get him out of here without alerting their mutated and freakishly strong vod? They didn't seem like they had much of a plan, but from the way he noticed they were rapidly going through signs amongst them, the young medic hoped they were coming up with something clever on the fly. Or at least stupid enough to work as per usual.

A wet coughing noise made Twitch look back towards Dogma. He had to suppress a gag as he noticed the insectoid-like clone had pried open the jaws of one of the infected vode, and begun to regurgitate some kind of pre-digested pinkish mush into his mouth. The sight was disgusting enough that he could feel bile begin to rise up in his own throat, in response to the repulsive action.

He didn't care what all the Holo-Documentaries said, nature was honestly not all that beautiful...

Seeming to have taken the opportunity to climb out of the vent (the retching noises of regurgitation providing them some cover), Rex and Fives began to enact whatever plan they'd concocted while Twitch was distracted. The ARC carefully moved towards him, while the Captain skirted around. Mindful of his steps and trying to position himself somewhere where he'd possibly have an advantage over Dogma.

Twitch bit his lip and used his head to motion to his right boot, hoping Fives would understand his intentions. Thankfully he did. Nimble fingers finding the scalpel with ease, and bringing it out of its hiding place before using it to begin cutting the webbing.

The stuff was pretty strong, intriguingly so, but a sharp edge was more than enough to work away out it. In less than a minute Twitch was freed from his sticky prison. Meanwhile Rex had managed to scramble up onto one of the empty hexagonal-shaped cells, using the vantage point to get a better view of the maze Dogma seemed to have made out of this hidden corner of the base. The blond captain then motioned for Fives and Twitch to follow him up onto his hiding place, which both did as quickly and quietly as possible. Dogma still very much none the wiser.

They needed to be careful however, as Twitch doubted he had much vode left to keep him distracted for long. Even in this mutated state, the sergeant was both diligent and expeditious in his work ethic.

As apprehensive of this as Twitch was, his older brothers did not seem to share in his worries. Both very much engrossed in figuring out a way to avoid detection on their way out. And from how fast they began to move on out of their hidey-hole, practically pulling Twitch along as they did so, they seemed completely against hesitating. Perhaps for fear that if they waited long enough, they might be found out. Which was sound logic, considering Dogma was now attending to cleaning out the empty cells.

It was a bit of a dance. Timing whenever they should next move. Keeping an eye on the busy insectoid man to make sure he was still unaware of their presence. Making sure their steps were soft and well calculated.

Of course no dance was complete without stepping on your partner's foot at some point...

Inside one of the occupied cells, one of the vode who was a little more along in their infection, snapped up at attention when they passed him by. Whether because he was far too confused to recognize them in his state, or because he was succumbing to the same thing that had changed Dogma, something in his glazed gaze seemed to shift.

Twitch did not have time to cover his mouth before he let out a croaky cry of warning that most definitely caught their host's attention.

"Well Kark!" Fives cursed as Dogma spun around, screeching in their direction with impressive ferocity. Twitch's eyes going wide as he noticed the way his bottom jaw split apart and snapped closed like the mandibles of some kind of wasp. A very pissed off wasp.

"Stun him!" Rex called out, drawing out his blasters and flipping the switches before beginning to fire a barrage of blue energy rings. Although in all honesty he might as well have been blowing bubbles at their mutated brother. None of the shots seemed to be making it past his armour-plating.

"Fat good that's doing! His skin is as solid as durasteel!" The ARC barked back as he pulled Twitch behind him, trying to give the medic at least some sort of barrier against whatever onslaught awaited them. And considering how easily Dogma had killed Krell, he didn't doubt the sergeant would make minced meat out of them in mere seconds.

The enraged insectoid continued to screech, back plates opening up and bioluminiscent wings unfurling behind him, before he took flight and crossed the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

With a simple swipe of his upper claws, he disarmed both Captain and ARC. Their blasters clattering to the side uselessly. Then both older clones were effectively pinned to the wall by their necks. Fives's armoured body sandwiching Twitch against him and the gross fleshy wall.

There was no way they were getting out of here alive... Not after infuriating the severely altered Dogma.

The medic was just about mentally sending them all off with a prayer, half expecting to be meeting with his batchers very soon, when a loud clank reverberated off the walls. And then both Twitch and the older troopers were on the floor, Dogma's grip on them completely gone as the mutant clone collapsed into a heap on the ground unexpectedly.

Looking up, Twitch couldn't help but smile in relief. Behind Dogma's fallen form stood Pitch. Holding a metal chair that was now bent at an awkward angle. Expression unreadable.

"..." The older medic stared at them, then around at the room of nightmares, then at Dogma, and then back at them. He seemed to mull things over before setting down the bent chair and crossing his arms. "Well, aren't you glad I decided to follow my gut feeling?"

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober #Umbaran Pathogen AU #captain rex #arc trooper fives #clone trooper dogma #clone ocs #clone medic twitch #clone medic pitch

17 notes · View notes

hxroic-wxlls · 1 year

Text

Bocchi: Jojo!AU Prologue + Stand Bio

Possesses Bocchi the Rock Spoilers:

Soon after the events of a particularly special solo that may have involved a bottle, Hitori was left with the task of saying something to really wow the crowd, courtesy of Kita. Aghhhhh, why?! Why HER?! She’s terrible with people! And with a large crowd like this…this is like an introvert’s worst nightmare!

And yet….Kita had put her faith in her. Faith that she could break out of her shell and really grow as a person. If she allowed herself to crumble and run away in the face of all of her fears and doubts, she’s never be anything more than what she is, now… Besides, as far as she knew, she HAS been getter, even if it was a slow process… So, maybe…maybe she could actually do this? It’s going to be tough, she knows, but she has to at least try. She doesn’t want her band’s faith in her to be misplaced.

…

It’s a bad idea. A really, REALLY, bad idea. The worst ever, in the history of bad ideas. If there were a tier list that listed every bad idea to ever be conceptualized, hers would be right up there at the very top in it’s own category. That’s how horrendously awful she felt about this plan.

A stage dive. Right into the crowd’s arms... If she’s being honest, there’s a 99% chance of her just falling flat on her face, and passing out. As for the 1%, it’d lead to the crowd carrying her around, cheering her on with endless praise and compliments. It’d be a milestone in her career, solidifying her place as a genuine rock star. Her Magnum Opus, if you will.

...Screw it. It’s not like she has anything to lose (besides her dignity). At the worst, there’ll probably be some gossip for a few days. Sure, having people remember her as a dumb girl who jumped off a stage and knocked herself out would be beyond embarrassing, but the idea of her plan going well, and possibly being universally praised amongst a huge crowd would be a MASSIVE boost to her ego. So, without a word, she’d slowly bend down to put her guitar aside, as she walked up to the ledge. You can do this, you can do this...

...

*SWISH!*

Before she could commit to her act though, she began to taste metal. Strange... did she bite her tongue? No, that couldn’t be the case. Also, why does her chest hurt so much?? Is she having a heart attack, or something? Reaching to grip at her chest, where the sharp feeling of pain resided…she’d notice that an object was in the way.

Staring down, a look of horror and shock was permeated on her face, as she noticed the arrow sticking out of her chest... Was this an accident? No, no, weapons would never be allowed inside. Which means...this came from outside. From someone who had to be TRYING to hit a specific target... Someone trying to kill her.

The whole crowd was left in utter silence, as she slowly began to process what was going on...

With a cough, she’d slowly fall onto her back, wheezing and gasping in agony as she tried her best to stay conscious. Is...is this how her career ends? Is the world punishing her for daring to be more than what she was set out to be?? No...no, no, that’s not fair! She...she finally made friends. She got to perform in front of a crowd. She actually looked...cool for once! Why now? Why only now, when her dream finally began to come true?!

A sharp ringing in her ears would muffle out the cries and screams of the audience, as well as the sounds of her bandmates rushing to her side, with concerned and panicked looks on their face. The sounds of her family desperately trying to reach her. The sounds of Seika and Hiroi calling for medics...

As the lights in her eyes slowly began to dim, her lids fluttering shut, she could only mutter a silent ‘sorry...’, as she was carried away by the medical team.

...

————

By some kind of miracle, however, she actually managed to survive. According to the medical staff, It seems like the arrow hadn’t gone deep enough to inflict truly mortal damage... How that managed to be the case! Nobody really knew. Maybe the mysterious archer assassin was a worse shot than they thought?

She’s never considered herself a lucky person, but today, it seems like fate decided to grant her just a little bit of mercy.

Of course, a wound like this was nothing to make light of. She was going to be left bedridden in the hospital for at least a few weeks. Getting shot in the chest is a little more severe of an injury than something like stubbing a toe, after all... Still, more than anything, she’s just happy to be alive... Gosh, the others must be so worried. Her family, especially... Back on stage, from what she could see of them through her blurry vision, they looked to be in immense panic and sorrow. There were looks of distraught that she’d hoped to never EVER have to see on their faces.

*Drip*

A trail of wetness would flow down her cheeks, as tears formed in her eyes. With a quiet sob, she’d hold an arm over her eyes. She had one job...only one...and she messed it up. She ruined the concert. All she had to do was not make a mess of herself, onstage. And yet...she made everyone panic and worry. That day was supposed to be something that everyone would be able to look back on as a happy memory. As something to be proud of.

But instead, because of her own misfortune, that day would be seen as anything but precious.

Whoever she managed to piss off that badly, however she managed to do it, she had ZERO clue. But regardless, that wasn’t important. What WAS important, however, was, because of her own negligence, her friends and family had to go through far too much trouble and grief than they ever should’ve...

At the very least, she was the only one who’d gotten hurt in this situation. She’d never forgive herself if anyone else had been hurt in her place.

Once she had no more tears left to cry, with puffy red eyes, she’d stare up at the empty ceiling of the hospital room. It seemed like she was alone, at the moment. With nobody to accompany her besides the sounds of the chirping birds outside, the television on the wall, and the floating pink humanoid creature by her bedside...

...

What?

STAND STATS/ SKILLS

Stand User: Gotou Hitori (Bocchi)

Stand Name: Seishun Complex Act 1

Appearance: Possesses a somewhat similar appearance to that of stands like Spice Girl and Gold Experience. With a primary color scheme of pink and white, with a blue and yellow spheres acting as shoulder pads. On it’s arms strings like that of a guitar would reach all the way to it’s wrists. It’s eyes shine with a bright blue, and the stand’s face appears to have a worried/nervous expression at almost all times. It stands at a height of 5′5″, being slightly taller than Hitori, while also possessing a slim build.

Stand Abilities: The stand gives Hitori the ability to passively read the minds of others and inflict feelings of panic and anxiety in foes within fifteen meters by passively releasing spores from it’s body. When inhaled, these spores will give her access to the opponent’s thoughts, while also causing them to see things that aren’t really there, and fill their heads with disheartening voices and doubts, making them incapable of thinking anything positive for fifteen minutes. However, the stand has little in the way of actual physical prowess, with it’s melee power and speed being incredibly weak.

Stand Stats:

Power: E

Speed: D

Range: A

Staying Power/Durability: C

Precision: B

Development Potential: A

#{anxious rock: ic}#tw: blood #tw: injury #{headcanons}#jojo!au #ya'll remember how I talked about wanting to make jojo AUs for some muses?#Well consider this the first of many!#tw: long post #jjba #Bocchi the rock #hitori gotou #crossover #drabble

4 notes · View notes

allmightluver · 3 years

Note

**bnha spoilers** I'm just sat here with renewed realisation of what All Might is going through. 40 years. /40 years/ he held and refined that power and dedicated his every waking (and sleeping if Vigilantes is anything to go by) moment towards the goal of defeating AfO and creating a society in which people could feel happy and safe. And now as it turns out AfO is still alive, society is broken and he has given a literal piece of his soul to this young boy leaving himself with only phantoms

Yes. I don’t think people quite grasp what all he’s going through.

It’s been shown recently to us that some, if not most, heroes have underlying ambitions in becoming a hero. Whether for money, glory, fame, popularity, doesn’t matter. They’re ultimately in it for themselves. Toshinori’s intentions from the beginning have been the most pure- he wanted to be a symbol that people can look to and know things will be ok. A symbol of hope. This boy was only around 14 years old when he decided this. What kind of 14 year old sees the world that clearly? Sees that people have no hope, that a veil of darkness covers them. The only thing I can think of is- Toshinori did not have a good childhood. Something had to have happened to a boy that young to stop seeing the joy in life so early, and see the world’s flaws. Truthfully, I believe he was an outcast- due to his quirklessness. Most likely an orphan, perhaps abandoned by his parents, as we’ve never seen him have any family. I do truly believe Toshinori has been alone all his life. I don’t doubt more could have happened to him as a child before he met Nana.

Some may argue that Izuku is the same age, and therefore it shouldn’t be that hard to see why Toshinori wanted to be a hero at such a young age. BUT, Izuku had someone to look up to, ever since he was a child of four years old, to inspire him to be a hero his whole life *cough cough* All Might. Izuku also was quirkless, much like Toshinori, and an outcast because of it (hence where I assume Toshinori was much the same). But ultimately, Izuku wanted to save people because he saw his hero do it. It really wasn’t until Izuku was a bit older, has been in UA, has been on rescue missions, has seen what the heroes see, that I think he’s truly realized how dark the world really is. Toshinori didn’t have that. He didn’t have someone to inspire him as a child, someone to look up to, a hero to inspire him to help others. At that time, heroes hadn’t become as popular as they are in present times. Toshinori saw the world for what it was, on his own, at a tender age. I think that day Nana ran into this blonde hair kid, she eyed him up, noticed his scraggly form, looked into those captivating blue eyes, and saw a man who’s lived through the world’s horrors- experienced the worst it has to offer-, and wants to save everyone he can from the same fate, all in a 14 year old boy.

Then after only a few short years with the woman he saw as his mother, she’s killed in front of him because of his own weakness- he wasn’t strong enough yet to protect her. The only other person his life, Gran Torino, literally abused him. He beat him to a pulp, taking his own emotions out on a teenager, and I doubt Toshinori said anything of it. He probably thought he deserved it. He’s still afraid of Gran Torino to this day, remembering the beatings and expecting more for his failures- even if he doesn’t know what they are surely he’s at fault for something, but he’s the only person who’s stood by his side for this long. Even while at a distance, and spouting nothing but criticisms along the way. But Toshinori had to put aside his own emotions to be that hope for everyone. He left everything he knew to go to a new country on his own, to learn how to be a hero, to be that hope for someone.

Vigilantes showed us just how hard he worked. Toshinori literally stayed awake with no sleep for days on end- 3 in the chapter I’m referencing- because people needed help, people needed saving, and no one else stepped up. He fought villains, rescued civilians, repaired damage, cleared rubble, (even accept and eat food that was against his dietary restrictions after his injury) whatever the public needed, all while draining himself further. He worked himself to the point of exhaustion because he had no help, once literally falling asleep while mid-leap across the city because he simply could go no further.

^^These happen in succession of each other^^

No one stepped up to say “Hey, Mr. Number 1, you’ve been working hard lately. Let me help you!” No one tried to take over his position. Even the Number 2 hero, Endeavor, never tried to take some of his burden. His only goal was to try to be better than All Might in terms of power- he was never trying to be the hero that the people relied on All Might for. Everyone relied on him when things looked grim. He was the back up plan. And all of this happened before Toshinori’s injury.

The only thing he ever wanted to do- help people- he can’t do (at least the way he’s always known how to). The ability to save people has been taken from him in the most gruesome way. He was finally able to fight the man that killed Nana, and in a rage that I’m sure echoed with all of the emotions of the previous users, he smashed that man’s head like a grape. But not without consequence. Several organs are gone. The pain is excruciating. He wears that man’s mark on his body for the rest of his life, never truly able to rid himself of the filth.

Then we have Nighteye’s betrayal. The man that helped him as a sidekick, the man that grew to be his only friend. Now some people may ask why Toshinori flipped like he did to Nighteye looking into his future when he was concerned about him making it through his injury. What I believe is Toshinori didn’t want to know when he would die (and really, who does). Now he knows he’s on a time limit, knows the clock is ticking. Time is running out to keep the world at peace, and with him as he is now, how long can this go on?

I think the betrayal, doing something that Toshinori specifically asked him not to do, is what hurt the most. How can he trust Nighteye anymore? He already can only count on one hand the people he can trust, let alone befriend.

He’s wasted away into a skeleton, a shell of the man he used to be. He can’t over exert himself without his only lung bleeding in protest. It’s canon in the side books that he really doesn’t eat much, which isn’t good for his diet without a stomach now (he’s supposed to have several small meals a day). He is quite literally punishing himself by starving. (Granted, he doesn’t feel hunger anymore.) He’s a sick man, beyond medical help at this point. They can only stabilize him and hope for the best. For five years now he’s in constant pain, every day. He loses blood like sweat. Surely his veins are bruised and collapsed with how many times he would have needed to be hospitalized. Whether from losing too much blood, being too dehydrated or starved from “forgetting” to eat, or an organ failing as body continues to fall apart. “...even as my body rots and grows frail...” - Toshinori People are bound to stare at him as he walks down the street. A tall, willowy, skeleton with a grimace on his face and blood stains on his clothes as he coughs up more into his own hands. There would be the ones who outright ignore him when they walk by, the people who offer pitying smiles and sympathetic glances or just outright stare, and then ones who are afraid of his appearance- children screaming at the mere sight of him and running to their parents to hide from the monster. Each one is another knife in Toshinori’s side, an ache in his chest. If only they knew who I really am.

Losing Nighteye took a toll on his hero work as well. Mirai was a huge help in the past, and took care of all Toshinori’s paperwork, while also reminding him to take care of himself. Without him, Toshinori was even more buried beneath his responsibilities. Plus, now he was on a time limit. He even snapped briefly in his first meeting with Tsukauchi, accidentally revealing himself as All Might because he was under too much pressure, and telling the detective he literally couldn’t handle doing everything by himself (who graciously took over the paperwork side of things for him).

He was living a double life now, having to lie to people left and right about who he was while in his small form, about how he became so sickly, why he was here in the first place who the heck is this skinny old guy. Surely he had multiple visits to the doctor while continuing to repair the damage done by AFO (there’s a limit to how much the body can handle at once. And things I’m sure continued to fail as time went on). Then he would be bedridden for as long as the doctors could keep him strapped to a bed, until he couldn’t take the people’s cries for help any longer, and would jump into action. (It’s also revealed he has something of a super hearing- able to hear danger- which may have been a form of danger sense of OFA that was never fully unlocked?. Either way, he surly could sense disasters happening while he could only lay and heal from his latest surgery. Those poor doctors must have had to re-stitch him several times). People blame him for not preparing society for his retirement, that he failed in passing on the torch so to speak, but in reality he did everything possible to keep society from falling for 40 years, doing all within his power just to keep things afloat. He is only one person. One human being, he can’t do everything despite trying to. Society failed All Might.

People blame him for not being a good teacher. He didn’t exactly have the greatest teacher himself to learn from. He’s never had to teach anyone anything, he just punches! He’s learning. And for his own credit, he’s an incredibly wise man, he has years of experience under his belt, and an intelligence score of 6/6, scoring up there with Nezu! He may not always have the right way to bring something up, but he’s doing his best. Yet even he blames himself for Izuku not being able to control his quirk better. Every time the boy hurts himself, it’s just another tally on the chalkboard of Toshinori’s failures. He himself knows the boy deserves better, better than him. Useless. Pathetic.

Then his friend from America, Dave, essentially became a villain trying to preserve Toshinori’s legacy after Toshinori told him about his injury. Dave went behind his back, threatened people, injured people (pretty sure people died), all for Toshinori’s sake. Something he didn’t want to begin with. Having to put your only other friend in jail for trying to help you surely couldn’t have been easy.

Oh, by the way? All For One isn’t dead. All Might will fight him again, publicly, have his weakened form exposed to the world, and have his own emotions toyed with as he finds out about his master’s grandson in the villain’s hands. Would Nana hate him for leaving her son alone like she’d asked, and dooming her grandchild to be raised by the greatest villain? Could he have done anything to save him? But Toshinori isn’t allowed to feel, he has to smile and push his own feelings aside once again, because there’s a villain to be fought, and only he can fight him. Despite coming out on top, he’ll have suffered severe head trauma, broken left arm, destroyed right arm, and several cuts and bruises that are sure to scar. And then, his quirk, the only thing that’s been allowing him to help people, the gift given to him that he carefully held for 40 years and molded into his own until his very consciousness was permanently carved into it, blows out like a match in the wind. And he’s done. Used up. Empty. Broken. Hollow. Alone, again.

He overhears his student, Bakugo, admit that he blames himself for All Might’s retirement. If he hadn’t been captured, All Might wouldn’t have had to save him, and he wouldn’t have had to fight AFO. Of course Toshinori knows that’s not true, his time was about to run out anyway. It would have happened one way or another. But how can he explain to this child that he wasn’t the cause of his hero, the world’s greatest hero, fighting for his sake, bleeding for his sake, being forced into retirement to keep him safe. Every time Bakugo sees the bandages covering Toshinori’s body is another reminder of the pain and sacrifice Toshinori willingly gave to keep him safe. Toshinori wasn’t held when his mentor died. He wasn’t told it was ok to be sad, that grief and mourning was a natural process, that it takes time to heal. He wasn’t told it was ok to cry. Instead his feelings were beaten out of him as he wondered if Gran Torino blamed him for Nana’s death. He already blamed himself How then, does he comfort a child mourning for him? For what he lost.

And then he gets the call to come to the hospital. Mirai, Nighteye, his old sidekick friend, has been gravely injured, much like he himself was only a few years ago, and most likely won’t survive the night. And to his horror, Nighteye is happy to see him, smiles at him, says he doesn’t hate him for what happened, only wants Toshinori to be happy. He can’t accept that, at least let him apologize, reconcile his sins before it’s too late! But it is. Another fractured piece of his heart gone.

Of course, seeing your students beat up and their arms completely destroyed must have hurt. Instead of being able to save these kids, they’re the ones that hurt themselves to save everyone else. And if Bakugo had kept OFA, things could have been very different (especially with what we know now of OFA and people with quirks). Toshinori wasn’t mad at Izuku for transferring it away, he’d never regret choosing Izuku, and I believe he still would have stayed by Izuku and Bakugo’s side should it have stayed in Bakugo, doing whatever he could to help.

As he tells Aizawa, “I’ve decided to live,” -that statement seems so melancholy, besides obvious reasons. It sounds more like another task he has to accomplish. He didn’t die he was supposed to die with the AFO fight, and now the whole life he lived is over. The world has no use for him anymore. If not for Izuku, he’d have nothing left keeping him here. But because his boy made him promise to live, he’ll do so. Though it almost seems like he says those words with regret. “I’ve decided to live.” Not, “I’m going to live!” “Nothing can kill me!” “I won’t go down without a fight!” No. “I’ll live if I have to, only because you asked me to.” The man is obviously and outwardly depressed. He has so many things against him. No doubt has severe PTSD, anxiety, among others. Not to mention his own physical health. Every day hurts. It’s painful to be alive. Why would he torture himself if he doesn’t have to? For you, my boy. You’re the only thing keeping me here. The only light in my dark world.

He tries to help Izuku find out the previous holder’s quirks, to help his boy in any way he can now that he’s worthless, and goes days on end without sleep, running his body into the ground. He even forgets Christmas. Only to find that by giving the boy the same gift he had received, he may have just doomed him to an early death, among psychological torture (danger detection). (Granted, he really doesn’t know how everything works, and he’s afraid to talk to anyone about it). His boy could live only half a life.

It’s only been a few months since he retired, and society has fallen into shambles. People are blaming him. People are dying. He watches helplessly as his colleague fight his fight for him, and end up battered, bruised, crippled, dead. He students, his boy, battle the monster he should have killed. Children are bleeding. This shouldn’t happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Is everything he worked for, everything he fought to protect, to build up, to inspire, is all for naught?! Did he live a foolish dream and doom the world? Was all the the friends he lost, tears he shed, the organs he destroyed, the pain he endures on a daily basis from the hole in his side, and the blood he continues to bleed every day, for nothing? The public, the ones he protected for so long, mourn his absence, but surely there are those among them who also blame him. The statue from his last fight in Kamino one that he never asked for was decimated in a mock of his catch phrase- the one that was supposed to give hope.

Now he can feel his own vestige speaking with Izuku in the OFA realm, even with out OFA in his own body anymore. His clock as nearly reached it’s limit, Nighteye’s prediction is due any day now. The only thing he wants is to see his boy smile at him, to give him some shred of hope. Yet the child remains unconscious, and Toshinori can’t even hold his hand from the bandages covering his arms. Will he still be able to fight? Is there any coming back from this now? Did I break him?

With all Toshinori has been through, I’m honestly surprised we haven’t seen him just outright break down. Anyone, anyone, else should have crumbled under the pressure of holding up the world for 40 years alone. And instead of being able to pass it on to someone when he can no longer bear its weight, it simply falls to into the abyss. People don’t credit All Might enough for everything he’s done. Most don’t realize the sacrifices he’s made. His character is so unbelievably profound and deep, it’s more than just the “I am here!” people focus on. He’s a deeply troubled, layered, complex character. And I can’t find fault within him.

2K notes · View notes

here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

Afternoon Naps (myg + pjm)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jimin x Yoongi Genre: smut Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~5.5k

Tags: Smut, Consensual Somnophilia, Vampires, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Vampire Sex, Vampire Biting/Blood Drinking, Sleeping Medication, Consensual Necrophilia (Technically), Temporary Character Death, Vampire Min Yoongi, Human Park Jimin, Bottom Park Jimin

Summary: Jimin finds out his boyfriend's biggest secret, and reveals his own biggest kink. They realize that this can benefit both of them.

A/N: Fifth Kinktober fic, day 7: somnophlia; this fic is also filling a request from ages ago. @sujigguk requested a fic with “you’re not human”

A/N 2: The fic contains technically necrophilia -- vampire lore in this fic has the vampire "dying" (i.e. heart/breathing stops, body goes cold, rigor mortis sets in) while resting in their coffins. All sexual acts are discussed and consented to by both parties prior to this.

“Jimin!” Yoongi’s voice was sharp… And not all that happy when he opened the door of his apartment. Jimin smiled sheepishly.

“Surprise?” He said softly.

“What are you doing here?”

Yoongi looked tense as he stood in the doorway. From what Jimin could see over his shoulder, his blinds were drawn, and his apartment was still mostly dark. Strange, given it was nearly ten in the morning.

“Did I wake you?”

Yoongi hesitated. “No.”

Jimin’s smile faded a little. “I wanted to come by… It’s been a week.”

“We’ve been texting.”

Jimin’s smile disappeared completely. “I disturbed you. I’m sorry.” He backed up, ready to head down the hall.

“Wait, no, Jimin. Don’t go. You just surprised me, I’m not used to visitors coming by unexpectedly.”

Jimin looked at him, trying to gauge if he was being sincere. Jimin and Yoongi had been dating for nearly six months. It was great. Yoongi was always there for him, their dates were fun, and they never ran out of things to talk about. The sex was mind blowing. Sure, they fought a little, but never a big thing. The one oddity in all their time together… Was that Jimin was never invited to sleep over at Yoongi’s. Yoongi had stayed at Jimin’s a few times, and Jimin had come over once or twice, but never for more than a few minutes.

The last time they were together in person, Jimin had hinted at wanting to stay over at Yoongi’s one night. Yoongi had seemed okay with the idea, but also a bit stiff about it.

“I should have texted,” Jimin finally said.

“Yes,” Yoongi agreed. “But… You’re here, I can spare a few minutes.” He sighed heavily and stepped aside, letting Jimin in.

“Dark,” Jimin commented as he entered. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.” He reached out for Yoongi’s head, only to have Yoongi jerk away.

“I’m fine.”

Jimin scowled then, crossing his arms. “What’s wrong with you?”

Yoongi blinked at him.

“You’re acting weird. I’ve been with you half a year, I know when you’re not yourself. What’s wrong?”

“It…” Yoongi’s shoulders sagged. “It’s very hard to explain.”

“Well try. I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark. Literally or figuratively.” Jimin went to flip on a light.

Yoongi grabbed his wrist. His hand was frigid, and his grip was tight. Jimin gasped.

“Don’t.” Yoongi’s voice was sharp.

“Wh… What’s going on? You’re kinda starting to scare me.”

“I don’t mean to.” Yoongi let go of Jimin’s wrist.

“Why are you so cold?” Jimin went forward. Yoongi backed away but Jimin ignored him, grabbing his face. “Jesus, you’re freezing. Are you sick?”

“Not exactly,” Yoongi mumbled.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“Jimin, please…” Yoongi leaned into his touch, his eyes screwed shut. “Please just go home… I promise, I’ll explain everything tonight.”

“No. You can explain right now, Min Yoongi.” Jimin crossed his arms and stood in front of the door, facing Yoongi.

“It’s not easy,” Yoongi muttered. Jimin remained silent. He sighed. “Fine. I… I really wanted us to last.”

Jimin narrowed his eyes, not liking how this was sounding. Yoongi stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“I’m a monster.”

“What makes you a monster?” Jimin pressed.

“Fangs? Death? Drinking blood?” Yoongi shrugged. “Any number of things. I mean a literal monster.”

Jimin laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, come on, don’t be silly. Yoongi, what is it really?” He asked. He flicked on the light. Yoongi winced visibly, raising his hand to shield from the indoor light.

Jimin’s entire body went cold. Yoongi was standing in front of him. His Yoongi – lean muscle and a sweet, round face, gentle eyes and guitar callused fingers… But not his Yoongi at the same time. The person in front of him was paler than Yoongi – his face almost grey it was so pale. His eyes were dark. Not just dark, but the pupils seemed to have expanded, filling the whites of his eyes and giving him a demonic gaze.

Yoongi let his hand fall, his expression timid despite the horror his features implied.

“You’re not human,” Jimin whispered.

“I’m a monster,” Yoongi agreed. “A vampire… Specifically.” He looked down. “Are you going to run away screaming now?”

“Make me, you troll,” Jimin grumbled. He let his arms fall and took a cautious step forward.

“I’m a vampire, not a troll.”

Jimin grinned at that, seeing the curve of a smile on Yoongi’s lips. “I’ll get it right eventually… Am I in danger? Standing here like this?”

“No. I have excellent control over my feeding… Why aren’t you scared?” Yoongi looked up, meeting Jimin’s gaze.

“I am.”

“You aren’t showing it… Aside from a fast heartbeat… I can’t see any fear on your pretty face. And your heart beats fast around me all the time.”

Jimin smiled. “Flirting isn’t gonna get you out of the doghouse… Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You’re right.” Yoongi snapped his fingers. “I always forget. When is the right date to tell your new boyfriend you died and came back as a bloodsucking creature of the night? That once a week you have to spend a day in a coffin literally dead or you get wildly sick? Isn’t it the third? Or no, the seventh?”

Jimin slapped Yoongi’s shoulder with some force, smirking when he cried out, rubbing it. “Weak for a vampire.”

“I’m immortal, not immune to my boyfriend’s abuse,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Do you drink blood?”

“Of course I do.”

“Human?”

“When I can.”

“From live people?”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your tone, Mr. Park?”

Jimin glared. “You lied to me for six months, I’m allowed to interrogate you.”

Yoongi smiled softly. “I’m frankly just… In amazement that you’re still standing here. And no… Not live humans, not for a very long time. You may proceed with the interrogation – but I insist on us moving out of my hallway and to an actual sitting location.” He pointed to the couch.

“Do you have anything to drink? If I open your fridge… Will I find bags of blood?”

Yoongi made a noise of offense and crossed his arms. “Of course not, I’m not some barbarian. You’ll find a recyclable bottle of that’s filled with blood. But my sodas are in the door.”

Jimin went over to the fridge and opened it. Sure enough, there were three large water bottles filled with a very suspicious reddish liquid. He grabbed a soda from the door and went over to the couch, sitting next to Yoongi.

“How old are you? I’m guessing that twenty-seven was a lie.”

“I was twenty-seven when I died. Thirty-one years ago.”

“Oooh, I bagged myself a silver fox, huh?”

Yoongi huffed once more. “I died at twenty-seven.”

“Mhm… And now you’re fifty-eight.”

“Jimin, I’m gonna…”

Jimin giggled. “I guess I shouldn’t tease you… You might bite me… Would you?”

“Bite you? Not unless you asked.”

“Would it turn me into a vampire?”

“No. There’s a very specific ritual for that.”

Jimin nodded. “Cool. So, what does a vampire do? Aside from drinking blood… What’s special about you? I’ve seen you in the day. You complain a whole lot, but you don’t sparkle or ignite like a firework. We’ve taken plenty of pictures together… And you eat way too much garlic. You also sleep at night, and probably too long… And you aren’t any stronger than I am.”

“You’re making me feel real great here, Jimin,” Yoongi joked, smiling as he spoke.

Jimin laughed. “Sorry—I just mean… You seem human. I’ve never… Really assumed anything was off about you.”

“The great thing about humans, is that you all really like to assume everyone is like you. You avoid the things that support the opposite. Inhuman behavior, to some degree, so long as it’s not shocking or jarring, you can brush off as an odd quirk, a funny trait. I’m close to human, yes, but I am not human. I complain in the sun because my skin is sensitive. Bursting into flames is a myth, but I do burn far easier than most humans. My skin’s melanin has decayed over the years without cellular growth.”

“Which is why you’re so pale too.”

Yoongi grunted an affirmative. “Garlic is a myth, as is the no reflection thing. I’m sure hundreds of years ago, maybe? There might have been some truth to it, but modern technology and modern mirrors work different, so I can see myself the same as you. I am stronger than you, but I do well at hiding it most of the time. Any displays of it, you either don’t see, or brush aside. I do also sleep at night, yes – because I’ve put myself on a human schedule. I do this so I can live among you all without problems. Once a week though, I must sleep during the day. Sleeping at night is akin to a human living on a series of short naps at mid-afternoon. It’s not fully restful and it’s dangerous to do long term. I compensate by sleeping through the day one day per week, in the appropriate resting place.”

“R… Resting place?”

“My coffin.”

Jimin’s eyes bulged. “Coffin?”

“Yes, I am dead. I have a coffin.”

“That you sleep in?”

“Once a week. Otherwise, I sleep in the bed.”

Jimin nodded, his brows furrowed.

“Gonna run yet?” Yoongi asked.

“No… Is there anything else different?”

“Well… We’re excellent in bed,” Yoongi joked. Jimin glanced up. “I mean it. We have a… Special thing about us. You’ve had sex with other men before me, right?”

“Yeah, a few.”

“Haven’t you ever noticed that when we have sex… I’m much—”

“Harder.”

Yoongi nodded.

Jimin pouted. “I assumed it was because I just really turned you on. It’s because you’re a vampire?”

“Well, no, you really do turn me on... A lot. But a few days after I do my daytime sleep, I get naturally more rigid. I’m not sure why – I think it has something do with… Ah, well it’s gross. But it just happens.”

Jimin sat back, sighing softly. “You’re immortal.”

“Yes.”

“Honestly… I think that’s the thing that bothers me most about this. Not that you’re undead or drink blood or… But that you’re gonna never grow old. And I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispered.

“If we work out…” Jimin began. “And stay together… You’ll turn me, right? You’d have to – for us to… Be together.”

“Not necessarily. While I wouldn’t hate the idea of someone’s company in my life… I know that a limited existence is so valued and important. It’s something that I would be willing to discuss… If we work out, and when you are older.”

Jimin nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Yoongi pressed. “That’s it?”

Jimin shrugged. “We all have secrets, Yoongi.”

“I doubt you have a secret as big as this, Jimin.”

“No… But I have one that… People have left for.”

Yoongi seemed to perk up a little at that, his brows furrowed. Despite the difference in his eyes, the sleek black, Jimin found his expression endearing and sweet.

“I like your eyes like this… Can you change them at will?” He asked.

“No. They’re like this because I’ve not fed for a while. I have to keep myself fed and rested or they shift; they’ll be back to normal after I wake up and drink… What secret could you have that’s so big, Jimin?”

“Well… I…” Jimin winced. “God, it’s weird as hell, I’m so sorry.”

“I won’t run,” Yoongi promised. “You’re sitting here next to me after finding out I’m a living dead monster. The least I can do is listen to your secret and try to understand.”

Jimin smiled softly at that. He nodded. “I like… Sleep sex.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I like the idea of… Having sex with someone while they sleep or are unconscious. With their consent! I mean… I’d never… Do something nonconsensual.”

Yoongi remained silent a moment, thinking. “Do you want someone to have sex with you while you sleep? Or do you want to have sex with someone while they sleep?”

“Both, I guess. I like the idea of both. I’ve never done it. Most people stop talking to me after I tell them.”

“Why would they?” Yoongi pressed. “We all have kinks and fantasies.”

“Yeah, but a lot of them see it as a form of rape. And I get it, it’s a super grey area. You can’t change your mind while you’re asleep, so like… If you say it’s okay, and then as you drift off to sleep decide you don’t want it… Then it becomes nonconsent.”

Yoongi nodded in understanding. “Well I think that can be resolved just by open communication,” he said, touching his hand to his chin in thought. “If you trust your partner and they trust you, you two should be able to communicate what is and isn’t okay. I don’t think a kink like this is unsafe or unhealthy, as long as – like you said – it’s done with full consent.”

Jimin smiled cautiously, his heart skipping a beat. “You mean… You don’t find it gross?”

“Not at all.” Yoongi smiled. “I’m glad you shared it with me. I still don’t think it’s worse than me being a blood sucking monster… But I know it’s a secret you hold close, so I appreciate your trust. But… Would you want to try this with me someday?”

“Would I ever?” Jimin asked. He chuckled a little. “I fantasize about it a lot.”

Yoongi smirked. He moved little closer, pulling Jimin to him. “Would you want to try it today?” He asked softly.

Jimin’s eyes widened. Yoongi continued. “Look… When I sleep… In my coffin. I’ll be honest with you. I don’t breathe. I don’t move. I am… For all intents and purposes… Dead. I don’t decay, obviously. But my body goes very cold, my lungs and heart go still… And my body stiffens, as a corpse would. That includes… My dick.”

Jimin remained quiet, processing what Yoongi was suggesting. Yoongi slid his hands over Jimin’s shoulders slowly as he spoke. “So, if someone… Say my very curious, very human boyfriend… Happened to get horny while I was sleeping in my coffin… He could climb in and use my body… Ride me… And I’d remain fully unconscious no matter what.”

“Because you’re dead…” Jimin clarified.

Yoongi nodded. “Temporarily. I wouldn’t wake for anything, unless you shined sunlight on my body. So… If you want to do this…”

“Would you fuck me when you wake?” Jimin said quickly. “If I was sleeping, would you… Return the favor?”

“I wake in the late afternoon usually. You’d likely still be up.”

“Not if I took a sleeping pill,” Jimin suggested. “I have some, I used to get nightmares and they help. I don’t use them often, but I bring them just in case. I could take one after… And you could… Help get rid of your afternoon wood with my body.”

Yoongi shifted visibly on the couch. His tongue darted out, swiping over his lips. Jimin smirked. He leaned forward, sliding his hands up Yoongi’s thighs. “Does that idea sound good? You like it.”

Yoongi nodded. “I do,” he breathed.

“We can do it today?”

“Yes but… Jimin… You understand what I mean. When I lay in my coffin… You will be looking at the equivalent of a corpse.”

“I understand. But you’re still you. You say you’ll only be still and cold… You won’t be decaying or rotting or anything you associate with a dead body. And you’ll be waking up and… We’ll be together.”

“Of course.”

“Would it turn you on? Knowing I used you while you… Rested?”

Yoongi smiled softly, lowering his gaze. “Frankly? That’s… An incredibly sexy thought. The thought of you climbing into my coffin with me alone is enough to… Well… I’ve thought of it more than once. I never even imagined you’d be willing to… Let alone wanting to… Do more.”

“Should I stay in the coffin with you? After I finish?”

“I’m afraid not.” Yoongi shook his head. “Waking from my rest is a very jarring thing. I fear I might accidentally hurt you. I have a bed in my room next to the coffin, you can sleep there.”

Jimin nodded. “I do want this as long as you do. And I do want you to… Do the same.”

Yoongi leaned forward, kissing Jimin gently.

“Hey… You’re a vampire… Don’t you have fangs?”

“They retract. When I’m resting they will come out, so don’t kiss me – you could get poked. But when I’m awake I can pull them in and out as needed.”

“Can I see them?” Jimin whispered.

Yoongi seemed to be thinking about it. He grinned then. His wide, gummy grin suddenly became something much more frightening… And sexier, when Jimin realized his canines had lengthened and transformed into sharp, deadly points. Jimin’s breath left in a rush.

“Oh wow…”

Yoongi’s smile dropped again to a relaxed expression. “Satisfied?” He asked, his tone slightly breathier with the fangs in the way.

Jimin nodded. “I think you need to go to bed soon,” he murmured.

Yoongi smirked, one fang peeking out of his lip. “Horny bastard.”

“Not my fault.” Jimin squeezed Yoongi’s thighs. “Should I wait out here?”

“Please. Though it’s not disturbing I do like going to sleep alone. You’re free to come in in about fifteen minutes… I’ll be resting by then. The lube is in the top drawer of the dresser in the bedroom.

“See you in the evening,” Jimin said. Yoongi rose and leaned forward, pecking Jimin’s mouth gently.

Fifteen minutes had never been so damn slow. Jimin finished his drink and paced around the apartment, trying to distract from the ticking clock. He took the time to explore Yoongi’s place; he’d never had a chance to before. He had quite a number of interesting trinkets that Jimin wanted to ask about when he woke up. He pulled off his coat and tugged on one of Yoongi’s hoodies, hugging himself in it as Yoongi’s scent drifted into his nostrils from the warm fabric.

Finally. Fifteen minutes had passed. Jimin entered the bedroom carefully, letting his eyes adjust to the room, even darker than the living room. He found a lamp near a comfy looking bed and flicked it on, looking around. The light was soft, diffused by the heavy shade. In the center of the room was a large, dark coffin. Jimin approached it carefully, his heart in his throat. Inside was Yoongi, looking much paler than usual. He was entirely still, arms resting across his bare belly. He was in his boxers, his cock comically rigid, tenting the front up obscenely. He was stunning.

Jimin hurried over to the dresser and opened the drawer, finding the lube easily. He shucked his jeans and boxers, crawling onto the bed. He set his sleeping medication on the bedside stand and relaxed into the pillow. It smelled richly of Yoongi’s scent, his cock thickening against his thigh. He moaned softly, stroking himself. He looked over at the coffin, his stomach clenching. This was really happening. He poured some of the lube on his fingers and spread it over his hole, sighing contentedly as he pushed a finger in to prep himself.

When he was ready, Jimin rose, sliding the lube and his phone into his pocket. He went over to the coffin, taking a moment to gaze down at his beautiful lover. A vampire… He knew he’d likely have a moment of realization down the line – the understanding that this simple confession had flipped his life upside down. But he’d never been one to shy away from the macabre or bizarre, and he always wondered if supernatural creatures existed. Yoongi’s confirmation of that was… Unexpected, but not unwanted.

Jimin carefully straddled Yoongi’s lap. He knew he couldn’t wake him, but the fear was half the fun. Yoongi was still hard, his position entirely unchanged from the first moment Jimin saw him. Jimin pulled his boxers down just under his balls, smirking when he saw the tip was a deep purple red. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked gently, surprised to find it cool to the touch. Yoongi really was a living dead person.

A surprising twinge of arousal spiked through Jimin, making him shudder. He wondered if Yoongi could still come in this state. Only one way to find out.

He shifted over, taking the lube from his hoodie with shaking hands and adding some to Yoongi’s cock, and more to his own stretched hole. He moved over and began to settle into Yoongi’s cock, muffling his quiet gasps in his other hand. Yoongi’s cock was so hard it was almost painful. There was none of the give he was used to, forcing his ass open wide to take the tip, and sliding deep into him. He whimpered, shuddering hard when he took his entire length.

“Yoongi,” he whined softly. Curious, he reached out, touching Yoongi’s pale, cool face. He held his hand by his nose for a moment. Nothing. No movement of air, no shift, nothing. He moaned again, reality slowly sinking in. There was nothing normal or right about this. But God, it felt good. He dropped his hand down, pulling Yoongi’s top lip back. As promised, there they were, sharp fangs, glinting dangerously. Jimin touched one, ever so tempted to prick his finger on it, let Yoongi taste him… But no. Jimin pulled his hand back. That could be discussed at a later time. He settled back on Yoongi’s stiff cock and whimpered. There was no give. He was gonna lose it fast at this rate.

Jimin began to ride him, moaning openly as Yoongi’s cock slid over his prostate. He reached into his hoodie and removed his phone, holding it up. He found his camera app and angled it to show his face first, his cheeks mottled red with arousal. He moaned openly as he pressed record, not bothering to shy away from looking and sounding obscene.

“Your cock is so hard, Yoongi. You’re gonna break my ass in half, oh!” He shuddered, biting his lip and twisting his hips down. “Fuck, I’ve never had something this hard up my asshole, Yoongi… I’m gonna gape for hours after I’m done with you.”

He whined, his throat clicking as he struggled to swallow. He turned the camera, filming Yoongi’s body before turning it and balancing it behind him, so he could film himself riding Yoongi. He glanced back, smirking when he realized the camera was catching each long stroke, Yoongi’s cock sinking back into his ass. He spread himself and leaned forward, giving more light for the camera. He fucked himself hard and fast onto Yoongi’s cock, moaning and begging for more, not hiding the pleasure he was getting. He reached back and grabbed the phone, holding it up again.

“I’m gonna come, Yoongi,” he whined. “I’m gonna come from using your thick, hard cock, right here in your coffin. Wanna see?”

He turned the camera and lifted the front of the hoodie. His cock was bouncing with each thrust of his body, slapping gently off Yoongi’s still stomach.

“I’m so glad you slept shirtless,” Jimin panted. “Make me come, Yoongi… Oh God, please… Fuck my ass harder…” He moved faster, whining high in his throat. It shifted to a shout when his cock began to spurt, shooting ropes of come over Yoongi’s hands and belly. He stroked himself, still riding Yoongi’s cock as he milked the last come from himself. He shuddered and giggled, moving the camera behind him as he pulled off Yoongi. He held his ass open, feeling the cool air tickle him far more intimately than it should.

“Look at that gape,” he mumbled. “Too bad it’s not dripping with your come.” He pulled the camera back as he crawled out of the coffin.

“I think I’m gonna leave you like this… Covered in my come, boxers down… Just so you wake up and know what I did to you.”

He walked back over to the bed in the corner. “Now, Yoongi… I’m gonna leave the lube right there.” He angled the camera to show himself setting it on the nightstand and picking up the sleeping pill. “And I’m gonna take my sleeping medicine.” He angled the camera back to his face to show him swallowing it.

“Now I’m going to sleep just like this… No shorts… And I would love it, if you want to… To repay the favor and use my ass while I sleep.” He smirked. “I wonder… Is your come as cold your body was when you first come back? You should let me know… I wonder how that feels inside me…” He shook his head. “Sleep well… See you soon.” He ended the video and sent it to Yoongi, forcing himself to stay awake long enough to hear the buzz of Yoongi’s phone in his coffin. He let himself drift off to sleep, dreams full of sexy, arousing thoughts.

Jimin’s ass was on fire. He moaned softly, opening his eyes blearily. The first thing he saw was the coffin. He turned his head, spotting the clock… Nearly seven hours since he’d gone to sleep.

“Morning Sunshine,” Yoongi murmured. Jimin turned, spotting him at his desk. A cup of deep red liquid sat next to him as he worked on something. “How’s your ass?”

“Sore,” Jimin mumbled, reaching back. He was met with a gush of body temperature fluids, pouring from his gaped hole. He whined. “Fuck…” His cock throbbed against the mattress. “What did you do?”

“Me? I simply did as you asked in your video… Very sexy, by the way. Would you like to watch?”

Jimin rolled over, groaning weakly. His cock was hard despite the pain in his ass. It was perfect. “Show me,” he whispered.

Yoongi rose and grabbed his phone. He went over to the bed and sat on it with Jimin, passing him the device.

Yoongi did far less teasing and talking in his video. He set up the phone at an angle on the nightstand, allowing it to capture most of Jimin’s sleeping body. Yoongi slicked his cock, looking into the camera as he sank into Jimin with a moan. He began to thrust into him quickly, holding Jimin’s ass open as he did. He maintained looking at the camera most of the time, his eyes the same black they were when he went to sleep.

As Jimin watched himself get used on the phone, Yoongi pulled him onto his lap. He’d withdrawn his cock, Jimin could feel. He hissed and whined softly when Yoongi dragged him over and slid back into his come lubed hole.

“It’s sore,” he whined.

“You can get off then, I don’t mind,” Yoongi said, letting his hips go. Jimin smirked. He shifted to get a better angle to watch the video and began to bounce lazily on Yoongi’s cock.

On the video, Yoongi had picked up speed, grunting as he fucked Jimin’s sleeping body. He tossed his head back, shouting and baring his teeth.

Jimin moaned, catching sight of Yoongi’s fangs. He touched his own neck, a little disappointed at the lack of bite marks. Yoongi on video shuddered, his hips going still. He leaned forward, kissing Jimin’s shoulder.

“There’s my first load, Jimin. It was as cold as ice… I’ve never felt your hole squeeze me so tight. Next time I’ll do it when you’re awake… I bet you’ll squeal so pretty when it fills you…”

Jimin moaned, leaning back against Yoongi. “I wanna feel,” he confessed.

“I’ll make sure you’re awake next time,” Yoongi promised. “Wanna see the rest?”

Jimin nodded, riding Yoongi a little faster.

On video, Yoongi picked up the pace, fucking Jimin’s ass harder than before. He used him for nearly forty minutes, filling his hole three times. Finally, he sagged his shoulders, kissing over Jimin’s back.

“You’re so fucking sloppy, baby,” he grumbled. He grabbed the phone and angled it down. Jimin’s ass was red, his hole swollen around Yoongi’s cock. He pulled out slowly and come bubbled out, obscene sounds filling the air. Yoongi chuckled. “I’ll leave you like this. When you wake up I’ll give you one more, if you want it.”

The video went black. Jimin leaned forward, his ass aching at the new angle. “I want it,” he whispered.

Yoongi shifted, pulling out only long enough to get onto his knees. He sank back into Jimin’s already filled ass, and they both moaned at the sloppy noises. Jimin leaned up, wrapping his arms back around Yoongi.

“Bite me when you come,” he whispered.

“You sure?” Yoongi was fucking him hard, his cock twitching.

“Yes,” Jimin promised. He reached down, stroking his cock in time with Yoongi’s thrusts.

Yoongi was huffing erratically, holding tight to his middle. His fangs grazed Jimin’s shoulder.

“Are you mine?” Yoongi panted in his ear.

“Yes—“

“Give yourself to me.” Yoongi grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand off his cock. “All the way. Are you mine, Jimin?”

“Yes, yes!” Jimin moaned.

“I’m yours as well, Park Jimin,” Yoongi whispered. He slammed his cock deep. It began to throb, spilling inside Jimin. At the same time, Jimin felt a sharp pain and then a pressure on his shoulder. Pure pleasure washed over him. His cock began to spurt ropes of come, jerking hard enough to make them land on the floor in front of him. He shouted Yoongi’s name, reaching back and holding his neck as Yoongi drank from him.

The two collapsed on the bed as their orgasms faded. Yoongi kissed and licked at the wound on Jimin’s shoulder until the blood clotted, sliding his softening cock carefully from Jimin’s aching ass.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, nudging Jimin’s shoulder with his nose as they cuddled back to chest on the bed.

“I’m great,” Jimin whispered.

“No regrets? Still okay with it?”

“Fully… You?”

“It was so exciting,” Yoongi admitted. “When I woke and felt your come on me… And then saw you sleeping… And that video was stunning. You were so beautiful.”

Jimin smiled shyly. “We’ll have to go easy the next few nights… I’m really sore.”

“Of course. I’ll be gentle for a while, let you heal up.” Yoongi kissed over his shoulder. “Did the bite hurt?”

“No. It felt good… How often can you drink from me?”

“I’d prefer not to often. Living human blood, not bagged, it’s… Very rich and sweet, almost like candy. It can become addictive. I’m honored you let me, but I’ll save it as a treat for myself, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course.” Jimin turned as well as he could. His gaze searched Yoongi’s face, finally dropping down to his mouth, lips pink and cheeks mottled. “It was so interesting. Seeing you in your coffin.”

“I know it can be frightening.”

“No…” Jimin shook his head. “I think it sank in… That I was looking at someone who wasn’t alive. But knowing you’d be awake soon after, it was… This bizarre sort of… Taboo but sexy thing? I’m a freak, aren’t I?” Jimin’s shoulders sagged.

“No more than I.” Yoongi nudged him again. “We can be freaks together.”

Jimin grinned. “Yoongi?” He said softly.

“Hm?”

“I feel gross.”

“Because of what we did?”

“No, silly.” Jimin laughed. “Because your come is gluing my ass and legs together. I need a shower.”

Yoongi laughed brightly, nodding. “Agreed. Let’s get one... It’s almost dinner, you’re probably starved.”

“You aren’t,” Jimin teased, rising slowly. “No, but I could eat. I’ll take you out after the shower.”

They walked together to the bathroom. “How does eating human food work with being a vampire?”

“Same as it works being alive,” Yoongi said, turning on the water. “It’s just empty calories for me – Which is why I never eat much.”

“There’s so much I feel like I have to learn about what you are… How life is for you.” Jimin crossed his arms as he waited for the water to warm. Yoongi straightened up and wrapped his arms around him. Now that Jimin was aware, he could feel that Yoongi was a few degrees cooler, his skin just a bit paler than human.

“You can ask anything you need. We have time, and I’ll tell you all you want to know.”

“Yoongi…” Jimin leaned against him, hugging him tightly. He could hear Yoongi’s heart, glugging along at a lethargic pace. He smiled softly. “Can I confess something to you?”

“Hm?” Yoongi asked, resting his chin on Jimin’s shoulder. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” Jimin whispered.

Yoongi went still, his heart skipping a little faster. “Jimin… Say that again,” he said.

“I… I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Jimin could feel Yoongi’s lips curve up into a smile against his shoulder. “In nearly sixty years of existence… I have never heard more beautiful words,” Yoongi admitted. “I love you too, Jimin… I feel like I’ll love you forever.”

Jimin pulled back, meeting Yoongi’s gaze. His eyes were back to their normal soft brown. He smiled. “Coming from someone who is immortal… That’s the most beautiful thing I could hear.”

Yoongi leaned forward, kissing Jimin deeply. He pulled him close, and Jimin melted into the touch. Yoongi may have cold skin, may drink blood and die once a week – but Jimin had never felt safer or warmer than he did at that very moment in Yoongi’s arms.

#thebtswritersclub #yoonmin #jimin x yoongi #yoongi x jimin #jimin smut #yoongi smut #jimin #yoongi #mywriting

76 notes · View notes

thesoundofmadness · 3 years

Note

Lex buddy, don’t do this…

Fuck it. Give us the hospital Randy headcannons

>:) (also sorrh this is so long I like writing snippets)

Aight so. Sorcerer battle, something goes wrong, Randy ends up with a sword right through his stomach and a fucked up leg. The sorcerer pulls out the sword, Randy falls to the ground and starts to bleed out, the peddler Juilan and Howard show up. Howard runs to Randy screaming and calls an ambulance.

“Cunningham! Oh no no no no! D-don’t die on me! Don’t you dare die on me!!!” Howard yells at Randy, his blood staining his knees.

“Howard….” Randy coughs. “W-what’s wrong….?”

The blood was pouring out far too fast. Everything was becoming fuzzy. His body hurt.

“What?! You’re about to die you idiot!!! Why are you asking me what’s wrong?!”

“Die…? I…I can’t die…. Howard…. I’m the ninja, remember….?”

Howard stares in horror. What was going on???

“Heheh…. I know exactly what would help you, Howard…. W-wanna take a…. Trip to the gamehole….?”

Randy passes out just in time as the ambulance gets there. Howard was so scared and confused. If Randy died he…. Doesn’t know what he would do

Randy wakes up in a hospital bed post emergency surgery.

“Ugh….” Randy slowly opens his eyes and swallows. His mouth felt dry and his body felt heavy. Despite that, he was warm, and the bed he was laying on was soft. He lets his eyes close again for a minute, then opens them and looks around.

“Neh…. Where…. Where am….”

“Oh, you’re awake.” A person wearing blue clothes walks up to his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“….mm…. Sleepy….” He replies quietly. “….where am I….?”

“You’re at the hospital. This is a post surgery recovery room. Don’t worry, everything is alright.”

“Hospital….? S-surgery…?”

Why would he need surgery? His last check up with Dr. Sam went fine. He was a little overweight but he just figured that was from how much running around he was doing as the nin- wait that’s right, he’s the ninja. What was happening before?

“Hm….” He tries to remember how he wound up here. There was the thing at little Norrisvile, then evil Juilan, then he called Howard and they both got trapped in the realm of shadows, then….

His eyes widen. He jumps up.

“The sorcerer!” He yells out of no where. He turns to the nurse.

“Wh-what happened to me?! Where’s Howard?! Am I gonna die?! What happened to the sorcerer?!”

It took a few minutes for the nurse to calm him down. When they did, he immediately fall back onto his pillow and almost passed out again. He asks what happened, and the nurse says

“It was an accident. Your friend told us that you were at the school doing some extra credit work, when a monster attacked and hurt you. The ninja showed up and dealt with it, but by the time he could get to you, the ambulance was already there. He never mentioned a ‘Sorcerer’.”

Randy was a bit confused before he remembered that only the ninja knows about the sorcerer. Luckily he was too sleepy to explain what he meant.

He has to spend at least a month in the hospital, possibly even longer if the nomicon wasn’t hidden in the room healing him. If he wasn’t eating or doing medical stuff with the doctors, he was sleeping.

Dream Howard showed up in his dreams and kept him company as he slept. Since dream Howard is a carbon copy of Howard projected into Randy’s mind by the powerballs, he couldn’t help it because Howard was so worried and scared.

“Wait a minute…. Are you gonna attack me and force me to wake up again?” Randy asks, almost glaring at him.

“Of course not. I couldn’t wake you up even if I wanted to. I’m just here to keep you company until you wake up again.”

“Oh….”

‘Howard’ walks over and sits next to him. They stare at the…. Green sky together for a bit.

“Ya know….” ‘Howard’ starts saying. “Howard, the real Howard, is seriously worried about you.”

“He is?” Randy looks towards him. “How do you know?”

“Uh, I’m basically a carbon copy of him. Aside from all the sorcerer stuff.”

“But you’re a part of my…. Subconscious?” Randy looks at ‘Howard’ confused. “How could you-“

“Look dude I don’t know the specifics of it. I just know he’s worried about you.”

“Oh….”

‘Howard’ suddenly grabs him by his shirt and pulls him close. “You better survive this, you hear me?”

“Woah…! Hey man, I don’t think- that’s not-“

“I mean it, Cunningham. You dying is Howard’s worse nightmare. Do you think he likes constantly watching you risk your life?”

“…..I…. Uh….”

“He doesn’t. And if you die from this…. Who knows what’s going to happen to him? No matter what it takes, you *have* to survive this. If not for your own sake, but for Howard’s. Got it?”

“Okay man chill! I got it I got it!”

What Dream Howard is saying is true. No matter what he tried, Howard couldn’t get the possibility of Randy dying off his mind. He was so worried and scared he kept eating for comfort but couldn’t sleep. Every time someone tried talking to him he got pissed and would yell to leave him alone. Doesn’t help that he was holding onto the ninja mask for Randy’s identity sake, and couldn’t even call him for a while.

Mort and Randy’s mom tried to ask him what happened, but Howard snapped at the mom for never being around and not giving Randy the attention he needs.

“You’re never home when he needs you and you don’t even ask him how his day was! Do you have any idea how much that hurts him?!” “I-I dont….” “Of course you don’t. You don’t even know what his favorite color is. Don’t act like you care he’s about to die. You don’t.”

A week later, Mort tells him that Randy is finally okay enough to visit. And he freaks the fuck out. Mort keeps telling him he needs to calm down, and that Randy will be okay. When he gets to the hospital, he can’t help but start running trying to find Randy’s room.

Randy just got done with lunch and was ready to take a nap, until he hears Howard screaming his name down the hall.

“Ready for your nap, Randy?” The nurse asks.

Randy sinks his head into the pillow and yawns. “Yeah…. I wanna get the taste of that… stuff out of my mouth….”

“Alright, give me a minute and i’ll-“

“CUNNINGHAM!”

Randy lifts his head off of his pillow. “Did you just….”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Weird…. Sounded like-“

“CUNNNNINGGGGHAAAAAAAAAM!!”

Randy widens his eyes. “Howard….. that’s Howard!!!! I need to go find him!” He throws the blankets off and tries to stand up.

“Wait! You can’t just yet! You just ate!”

“But…. But Howard! I need to see if he’s okay!”

“You’re gonna rip out your IV! Stop it!”

Ya know how in movies there’s those over dramatic reunion scenes in movies? It’s exactly like that once Howard is allowed in the room. They’re both crying, awkwardly hugging, and making a huge deal out of it.

The nurse is so confused until Mort tells them how good of friends they are and how worried Howard was.

Randy ends up passing out from a mix of sleep meds and exhausting himself of crying. Howard assumes he died and runs out the room screaming some more

“HE’S DEAD HE’S DEAD HE’S DEAD HE’s-“ “Howie calm down! His sleep meds just kicked in!”

I would give some stuff about his recovery but this is long enough lol

#lex asks #rc9gn hcs

12 notes · View notes

geniusgub · 4 years

Text

bloodied jeans//spencer reid

here’s another fic for y’all! let me know what you think! give it a like or a reblog or just read it and be like omg

requests are open if you wanna see me write anything specific, or if you just wanna talk

genre: angst, a lil fluff

warnings: guns, blood, stab wound, me not knowing specific details of the angels/demons episodes, season nine finale spoilers, yet again! an overuse of pet names but get used to that warning

word count: 6.2k

///

"Be careful out there, okay?" I hear Spencer say over the phone to me, the way he always does. "The unsub is armed and dangerous, Rose. We don't-"

"I will, I promise. I've got a vest, you've got one too. We'll be okay." I promise him, glancing over at Emily, who gives me an uneasy smile.

There's an all hands on deck situation in Texas with an armed unsub hiding out in some restaurant. There's been shots fired inside and there's cops waiting outside for the BAU to arrive.

"I'll be there soon," I tell Spencer and hear sirens over his line. "I love you."

"I love you too," and then he hangs up.

Emily doesn't bother to say anything as she drives, just keeps her eyes on the road. Spencer and I always get nervous when approaching situations like this one. We started working at the BAU together and fell in love instantly, but it took us years to confess our feelings. But now that we've been dating for four, going on five, years, we're very protective of each other. Both of us have and will jump in front of a bullet for the other and it's gotten us in trouble, but we love each other.

We arrive at the scene and find the rest of the team gathered at the hood of Hotch's car. I smile and stick myself to Spencer's side, feeling his arm wrap around my waist. As Hotch discusses a plan to get in, Spencer kisses my temple, whispering a promise that we'll be okay.

But just as soon as he does, shots ring out. Spencer immediately tucks me under him and covers my body with his as everyone ducks. Local police start to fire back at the unsub and the team all rush towards the restaurant to get in the action.

I draw my weapon and duck behind an opened car door, waiting for the right opportunity before sticking my head out and firing my weapon. I'm unsuccessful at first, just hitting a window and breaking glass.

I hear JJ fire from beside me and I look over just in time to see her roll her eyes at something. But I'm stunned because I had thought Spencer was right beside me and I'm thrown off guard. We never separate from each other. Hotch doesn't like it because he thinks being together in the field will cloud our judgement ion dangerous situations, but it makes the opposite happen. We've defused bombs, saved children, talked guns and knives out of the hands of unsubs- with minimal injuries to either of us. We bring out the best in each other but I need Spencer beside me to ease my anxiety.

"You good?" JJ shouts at me over the echoing gunfire.

"Looking for Spence," I respond, but I'm sure she already knew that. She sends me a shrug before moving to fire her gun towards the unsub again. She grimaces and sinks back down when no positive results are seen.

This gunfire continues on for what seems like forever, but in reality, it only ensues for, at most, a minute. The cop between JJ and I has been shot down and we tried to revive him but it was no use. My mind is spinning and I don't see this ending any time soon. The unsub keeps reining fire down on us and I'm not sure where he keeps getting ammo from. But, as far as I can see, he's shot three police officers and doesn't plan on stopping.

"Morgan!" I shout aimlessly, hoping he's near by. And just like that, he's right by my side, gun clutched in his hand. "We need a plan. Where are the others?"

"I'm not sure. We're all split up." Morgan tells me, looking around frantically, ducking down when a bullet comes dangerously close to us. "But we gotta stop this guy. Snipers are setting up right now on those buildings up there. I'm thinking we could get a good shot at him."

"Good," JJ nods, gasping when another shot comes close to us. "Let's hope snipers get here soon. This unsub isn't stopping."

Surely enough, snipers arrive just seconds later and I watch them set up. At this point, JJ and I have both run out of bullets and we have nothing left to do but wait it out. We watch intently as the snipers scope out their target and try to get a good shot. It's a hopeless feeling, to be shot at and know that there's absolutely nothing we can do to try and defeat this unsub. If me and JJ try to move to get more ammunition, we'll get shot. The unsub is shooting aimlessly and we're likely to get shot if we break our cover and neither of us are willing to risk that. The best bet is to wait it out but it's a crushing feeling.

The more the moments pass, the more I wonder about Spencer. Is he okay? Where even is he? Morgan didn't mention him and he said everyone was split up. Did his revolver run out of ammunition? It's likely. His gun only carries six bullets at a time. Is he okay?

The snipers try once to take out the unsub once and fail, then try again, and fail. The gunfire on the police lapses for a moment and I think for split second that they've got him, but then it continues. I curse loudly, ducking further behind the car door.

"Hang in there, Rose," JJ calls, mimicking my position, eyes stuck on the snipers.

And with just one more shot at the unsub, the gunfire ceases. There's a moment of hesitation among everyone where we wait for it to begin again, and when it doesn't, there's a collective sigh of relief. Clearly, the snipers must have been successful at their jobs. Thank god.

We all rise slowly, guns drawn despite the lack of ammunition, and some start to drift towards the restaurant to retrieve the unsub. But the first thing I do is look for Spencer, like I always do. He's always my first priority. He's tall, he's over 6', he's not hard to find. So when I don't spot him immediately, I panic.

I go to my right and see an empty area between the two cop cars, and even further right is empty. Then I start running, past where JJ and I were, to the left of our positions. I almost miss him at first, and I probably would have if it weren't for his black converse poking out from around a car tire. I find him leaned against the tire helplessly, eyes drooping closed and his mouth half open, tongue sticking out.

"Spencer?" I squeak out, rushing over and dropping to my knees beside him. "What's wrong?" I place my hand in his and instantly feel something warm and wet, and I don't need to look to know what it is.

Silent tears pour down my cheeks as I inspect him, looking for a gunshot wound. The source of the bleeding is his neck and Spencer's trying to lift his hands up to meet mine, but I shake my head at him. "No, no, sweetheart, relax. Save your strength. Relax. Hands down. Medic! Medic!" I scream as loud as I can, hoping someone will hear it.

I press my hand against his neck in the weakest attempt to curb some bleeding, watching his chest start to heave. "You're doing so well for me," I encourage him. "Just keep your eyes open. Keep your eyes on me."

Spencer's head starts to lull, turning to me. He can just barely keep his eyes and he surely doesn't have any control of the rest of his body, just laying there limply. But he's breathing, for now.

"Come on, keep your eyes on me, baby, that's all I need. Medic! Could you talk to me? I'd love that, sweetheart," I press my other hand atop mine and grimace at the amount of blood covering my fingers. "Could you talk to me, bub? Tell me a fact you've got in that big brain of yours."

"R-Rose," he manages to stutter out, but I can barely hear him.

Three paramedics finally rush over and get to working, pushing my hands away from Spencer and telling me to "step aside," but I refuse. I'm hysterical as I cry for my dying boyfriend, holding my bloody hands in front of me like I'm the one who shot Spencer. "I'm his girlfriend and I'm federal agent, I have to-"

"Rose," I suddenly hear Morgan behind me, "just come over here."

"No! I have to be right here!" I resist it when he grabs my arm. But then he just wraps his arms around my waist and drags me away. I kick and scream for Spencer as I sob, breaking down in Derek's arms with my boyfriends blood staining my hands.

The team looms over us as Spencer gets loaded into an ambulance and rushed to a hospital. Morgan just holds me and lets me cry, rocking me back and forth. But eventually he picks me up and carries me into the back of a car, presumably Hotch's, and they drive off.

"He's gonna die," I cry, feeling Morgan wipe the blood off my hands with a rag, but it barely does anything. My hands aren't slick but they're still red, a reminder of the horror I just witnessed. I may not have Spencer's remarkable memory but I'll never get that image out of my mind. "Spencer's gonna die and it's all my fault!"

"He's not gonna die," Morgan tells me firmly. "He got shot in the neck, that's not a bad spot. He's gonna go into surgery and lose his voice for a few days- that's it."

"He could be paralyzed," I counter stubbornly. looking up at him. Spencer always liked my stubbornness, he said its a good quality to have so we can debate about topics, but it just seems to frustrate Morgan. Who is he to be frustrated right now? "And he lost so much blood." I look down at my clothes to see that they're covered in Spencer's blood too. These are going in the garbage at my earliest convenience. "I'm gonna lose him."

"Shh," Morgan pulls me into his chest again and despite the fact that I'm upset with him, I need someone to hold me so I just melt. "Just relax. Reid is gonna be okay."

I practically sprint into the emergency room but Morgan catches my waist before I can start yelling at an innocent nurse, reminding me that we already know Spencer is in surgery and he will be for a while.

"Here," Hotch says, "here's your go bag. Clean yourself up. I know you don't wanna go to the hotel and shower but at least change out of your vest and clean up the blood on your hands and your face."

///

After a while of waiting on eggshells, I take Hotch's advice. I go to the bathroom and wash myself up, changing into sweats, and like I promised myself, I throw my stained clothes in the trash. My hands are still stained red and I'm sure they will be for a while. But I feel a tiny better as I pull my hair into a tight ponytail, getting the gross and dirty strands out of my face.

I resume my seat in the waiting room, knees to my chest. The team is away, finishing up the case, leaving me to my lonesome. It's a painful thing to go through alone, to say the least.

"Anyone here for Reid?" A nurse says after hours of waiting.

I jump up quickly, rushing over to her. "Yeah, yeah, I am. Is he okay?"

"Come with me," she smiles, leading me away from the waiting room. "The surgery went well and he's going to be just fine. His throat is probably going to be sore for a while and it might be challenging to speak at first, but he'll be just fine. The anesthesia is wearing off and he should be waking up very soon." She stops at a room and gestures inside. "You're welcome to see him. Visiting hours end at midnight."

I thank her softly and then she walks away, leaving me with Spencer. I walk in and even though he looks like a mess, I smile. He's alive and that's enough for me. There's a bandage on his neck and his curls are flopped over his forehead, hands resting at his sides. If I didn't see him almost bleeding out, I would've thought he was peaceful.

I bring a chair to the edge of his bed and sit down, sliding one of my hands in his, squeezing gently. I don't get a response but I'm not expecting to, not for another minute or so. I lean down and press my lips to his knuckles, leaving them there for a couple seconds. My own exhaustion is starting to settle in now as my adrenaline disappears from the long gun fight we had.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I check it to find a few texts from the team, all asking how Spencer is doing. I respond to them, letting everyone know that he's out of surgery and he's okay, but not awake yet.

Just as I'm setting my phone on the bedside table, I feel Spencer's hand start to tighten in mine. A smile comes to my face and I scoot in closer, my eyes filling with tears again. "Hi," I whisper, reaching forward to sweep his hair off of his forehead, "hi, bub, you waking up? Can you hear me?"

There's a groggy sound in the back of his throat and then he coughs, grimacing at the painful feeling. I jump up and grab the cup of water with a straw from the side table, holding the small plastic cup to his lips. "Drink, my love, nice and slow. It'll help you. Your throat is gonna be sore for a while,"

Once he takes a few sips and then pulls away, his head falls back against the pillow again and he lets out a small sigh of relief. I set down the cup and wipe my tear stained cheeks, sitting on the chair once more and grabbing his hand. "How are you feeling?" I ask, moving as close as I possibly can without actually being on the bed and risking hurting him, even though that's where I wanna be.

Spencer scrunches up his nose. "Did you get hurt?"

I let out a little laugh, rolling my eyes at him. "You're the one laying in the hospital bed and you're asking me if I'm okay? You're incredible. How'd I ever get so lucky to find a man like you?" I tease, leaning down to kiss his knuckles again.

Spencer chuckles, very gently turning his head to look at me. His eyes are open now, bloodshot- but still beautiful. He gives me the weakest smile I've ever seen from him. "I'm just amazing, what can I say?"

I laugh, nodding. "That you are." I reach up and push his hair back again. It's growing out and he constantly complains about it in his eyes. "How are you feeling? And you've gotta answer me this time. No flattery."

Spencer sighs, squeezing my hand just a bit tighter. "Sore. Really sore. It feels like someone's squeezing my neck. But it's not painful. And I'm just tired- really tired."

"Alright well," I'm cut off by my phone buzzing on the bedside table, "just relax. Close your eyes and try to get some sleep." When he doesn't immediately do as I instruct, I furrow my eyebrows. "What's wrong? Do you need something?"

"You changed your clothes," Spencer observes, his eyes scanning up and down my body. There's a small pout on his lips.

"Um, yeah," I look down at my sweatpants and remember the red handprint on my thigh that was present just a few hours ago. "They were bloody so I threw them out,"

"That's a shame," Spencer quips, his voice cracking. "Those jeans looked really good on you,"

I bark out a laugh, tossing my head back. "I'll buy a new pair of jeans, Spencer. Go to sleep, you crazy boy," Spencer gives me another weak smile before closing his eyes and letting out a small breath. I reach over and answer it to Morgan's stressed out voice. "Hey, Spencer just woke up and-"

"The unsub has a partner." Morgan says quickly, cutting me off.

I furrow my eyebrows and start to rack my brain for any evidence I can remember from this case. "We didn't profile a partner. There's been no evidence of a partner until now. How?"

"Yeah, well, there was plenty of evidence of a partner at the crime scene. Garcia found out his name and he works at the hospital and we think he's coming for Reid." My eyes instantly move to Spencer and I'm not sure if he can read my panic but he can sense that something is amiss.

"Okay, tell me about this dude," I squeeze Spencer's hand as a way to reassure him that everything is going to be okay. But his eyelids flutter open and I know that he's trying to listen in to this conversation.

"His name is Cameron Delgado, and he's been stalking all of us. Like, he knows medical details about all of us, especially Reid." Morgan tells me. He starts telling me about his involvement with the unsub and how we could have possibly missed it until now.

As just a precaution, I jump up a grab the bin of Spencer's personal belongings and sift thorough it, getting his gun, cuffs, and his badge, tucking them into the waistband of my sweatpants for good measure. The confusion and panic is evident on Spencer's face now but I just shake my head at him.

"We're five minutes away. Hang tight, Rose. Is Wonder Boy okay?" Morgan asks.

Before I can even respond, a male nurse wanders in and my senses are spiraled into overdrive. I stop responding to Morgan and focus on the nurse's every little move. Morgan's yelling over the line, wondering what's going on and why I'm not responding, but I ignore him.

He glances at Reid's chart for a moment before picking up the insert for his IV. He's about to add something before I speak up. "What is that?" My assertive tone makes Spencer's eyebrows pop up, because I'm never aggressive in situations like this. I've always been known to be patient and calm. But this is my boyfriend's life we're talking about and I'm not risking anything. Even if this is just a nurse doing his job, I'm going to be safe rather than sorry.

The nurse looks at me, surprised that I'm asking anything or questioning his medical expertise. "Um, it's a painkiller." He says, about to add it, but I put my hand atop his, effectively halting him. "M'am, please-"

"What's it called? The medical name? What's it called?" I glance at Spencer and I think he's starting to catch on. But the downside is that I think the unsub is catching on too.

The unsub spits out some name that I can't even begin to re-pronounce and Spencer starts to shake his head. "No, no, I'm highly allergic to that. I'll go into shock, I've almost died because of that. Don't give me that!"

Cameron, the unsub, shrugs his shoulders and smirks. "Doctors orders." And then pushes the IV.

I quickly whip out my gun and cock it, seeing Spencer ripping out his IV in the corner of my eye before any of the medication can get in his system. "Cameron Delgado, put your hands up, you're under arrest," Does this gun have bullets in it? Let's hope so.

Cameron puts his hands up and laughs. "Oh, come on, little lady. You're not gonna shoot me."

"You just tried to kill my boyfriend so I'd think twice about that." I snap, not letting my face falter. "Now, do you wanna do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

"How could you possibly have a hard way?" Cameron laughs, looking to Spencer as if he's going to give him some sort of male support for his sexism. But Spencer is starting to decline significantly, given the loss of vital fluids and antibodies from his IV. "Oops, it looks like your plan backfired. Maybe he won't die from an allergic reaction but maybe he'll die from an infection, or shock, or what's that thing called? Sepsis? I wouldn't know. I'm not a real nurse, or a doctor. Not like your fancy boyfriend here. But you wouldn't let your fancy doctor boyfriend die. Would you? But you took an oath. You wouldn't call in a nurse to readminister an IV while you've got a gun pulled on an innocent nurse, would you?"

He's right. I would never put an innocent life in danger, but I don't want Spencer to get worse. So I need to get Cameron out of the room. Either Spencer will hit the nurse's button or his pressure will drop and a nurse will be notified. But I have to move quickly. Spencer's condition is getting worse and if his BP starts to drop, a nurse will come in and that defeats the purpose of this whole thing. I need to get Cameron out of the room ASAP. But how?

"Maybe I would," I tell him, just a bit softer. "Maybe I'd call in a nurse to help Spencer. You'd like that, huh?" There's a twitch of his eyebrow and I know I've impacted him in some way. I start to lower my gun in the slightest because even though he hasn't pulled anything, I'm almost positive he's armed somehow and I'm not wearing a vest. But I have to get him on my good side to get him out of the room. "Women are generally nurses, right? You're not actually a nurse." Now that my gun is facing the floor, I step towards him. At first, he steps back, but then he lets me advance him, blinded by sexual desire for me. "You just like to look at them."

Cameron scoffs, his eyes darting over to Spencer. "C'mon, lady, your boyfriend is right there. He's-"

"Oh," I roll my eyes, and my next words feel painful on my tongue, "he probably doesn't even realize where he is or what's going on. It's fine."

There's a lazy smile that etches itself across his face and it's one I recognize instantly, from the days I used to have one night stands in college, and even from Spencer. He's turned on. And despite the fact that I probably look like hell with my ponytail and sweats, he wants me. And I'm realizing that this is probably why this unsub wasn't involved with the other murders- he'd probably take too long with the women and the other unsub couldn't afford being caught because Cameron wanted to bang them.

"So why don't you go show me what you think women are really worth?" I keep my voice low, partly for sensuality, and partly because I don't want Spencer to hear. I feel guilty enough that he's struggling without his IV and that now he has to hear me seduce a serial killer. "It won't be hard to find an empty room in-"

"You're lying, Fed!" He quickly pulls out a knife and slashes across my stomach. I'm stunned for a second but my adrenaline doesn't let the pain catch up to me. Cameron darts out of the room and I follow, just barely hearing one of Spencer's many monitors starting to beep.

I chase after Cameron and he winds up to be a surprisingly slow runner so it doesn't take much. But the moment he catches up to me, I'm dodging swings from his knife. I know I have a gun but there are innocent people around and I can't just go shooting for the unsub. I'm fighting as best as I can, throwing punches and trying to get him defenseless. It's not easy by any means, what with civilians around.

I kick in his knee and make him fall, swinging my leg around his neck. I catch his wrist in my hand and try to wiggle the knife out of his hand, but he swings it around and plunges it into my calf. I curse loudly and the pain actually registers this time, but this means that he's given up his only weapon. So, without a second thought, I pull the knife out of my leg and slide it across the floor as far as I can, getting it across the entire hallway until it hits the nurse's station desk. Cameron is completely in my control now but still thrashing around. My pain is starting to register which means I'm losing my energy, and in my lapse of focus, I'm pushed to the floor.

Cameron is seemingly covered in my blood, smirking deviously as his hands wrap around my neck. I try to push him away but I'm losing blood and starting to get weaker. "This," Cameron snarls as his hands tighten at full force around my throat, "is what women are worth to me."

My vision starts to get spotty but just in time, there's a screeching pop and Cameron has a bullet in his head, falling to the ground beside me. I let out a breath of relief, chest heaving as I try to replenish my lungs with the air it had been deprived of. My vision isn't even fully restored before I'm pushing myself up and trying to get back to Spencer's room to make sure he's okay. Patients and nurses are starting to poke their heads out of rooms to see if the commotion is okay again.

"Rose!" I hear someone shout, but I ignore them. Morgan and Hotch come into view, then JJ and Emily a moment later. Morgan puts a hand on my waist and stops me, eyes widening. "You're bleeding a lot, you need to get checked out."

"I'm-" as soon as I speak up, a wave of dizziness passes over me, "Sp-"

"Spencer's okay," JJ promises, speaking as if I'm a child. I wonder if this is how Henry feels when she talks to him. "But now you're not. You got stabbed and choked and right now you need to see a doctor. And Spencer is not the kind of doctor I'm talking about,"

"No," I shake my head, my stubborn side pushing to the surface again, but grab onto Morgan's hand when my hips start to involuntarily sway.

"Nurse!" Hotch shouts as he sees the inevitable coming. A combination of the stress, the gunshot, the blood loss, and the choking hit me all at once and I black out, falling right into Morgan's arms.

///

I'm not sure how long I'm out for, but when I wake up, there's a nurse checking my vitals. My head is pounding and my stomach is aching, and my first thought is Spencer. How is Spencer? Is he alive? Did he get an infection? Did any of that medication get into his system?

"Oh, you're awake, Agent." The nurse smiles at me as she sees my eyes open. "Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything?"

"Spencer," I choke out, my voice raspy. I grasp at the uncomfortable blanket around me, scrunching up my nose. "My boyfriend. Spencer- is he-"

The nurse smiles and holds up her hand. "You've had lots of other agents come through here and they've all told me he'd be the first person you'd ask about. He's asking about you too. He's doing wonderfully, recovering perfectly. He's more worried about you than himself, actually. He tried to get out of bed a while ago, actually, to see you and some of your coworkers had to tell him no."

"You're awake!" I look to the doorway and find Penelope standing there with a huge smile, holding a tray of food in one hand and multiple phones in the other. "Spencer made me promise to be there when you wake up but he also made me promise to get you lots of food so I was conflicted on what to do but-"

"Pen, it's okay. I'm okay," I promise with a weak smile. "I just wanna see Spencer." I look back at the nurse, the weak turning desperate. "Can I go see him?"

"Well," she sighs, "your stomach is just bandaged, you didn't need stitches there, but you have twelve stitches in your leg. A doctor will have to check you out for you to be discharged, and then you can see Doctor Reid. So I'll notify your doctor. Eat up, and be careful of your throat, it's very bruised. I'll be back soon."

The nurse leaves and Penelope takes her spot beside me, moving the hospital tray over the bed. "She's serious." She tells me, sitting down on a chair. "Spencer won't stop asking if you're okay and if you have the appropriate number of red and white blood cells or if they're giving you penicillin, because you're allergic, but you obviously know that, duh, and all these other questions. He's really worried about you."

"Yeah, well," I let out a sigh, my neck aching as it rolls to face her, "he had to watch me seduce the unsub. Spencer had to take out his IV and I needed the unsub to leave the room so I had to seduce him and now I feel like I need to bathe in holy water."

Penelope grimaces, her face contorting with displeasure. "Ew, ew, ew. I can't imagine being you. Disgusting, Sorry, not sorry. Just eat, and hopefully, the doctor will be here soon. I've brought you new clothes so you can change into ones that don't have blood on them, and I'm gonna text the team to let them know you're awake and then you and Boy Wonder can reunite and live happily ever after. Yay!"

I laugh lightly, reaching for the bottle of water and cracking it open. "Yeah, hopefully, there's no more crooked cops that wanna kill us and we can get on a plane and go home. It's time for me to convince Spence to use his vacation time."

Penelope frowns at me, putting down her phone. It's only seconds later that the team is walking into the room with smiles on their faces, clearly happy to see that their second injured team member is doing okay. "Hi, guys, thanks for coming,"

"Of course," Alex smiles, patting my uninjured leg. "You know we're always here for you."

"I just," I give a small smile and let out a sigh, "wanna get out of here."

"You wanna see Reid." Hotch fills in my missing sentence. "But he's fine, I promise. He just really wants to see you too. Soon. Your doctor is on his way. So get some rest, eat some food, and we'll be on a plane soon."

The team gives me final smiles before leaving my hospital room, only Penelope staying. She smiles, adjusting her seating position. "Pen," I smile, "you don't have to stay here. You can go home or-"

"I'm not leaving you alone in a hospital where Spencer was almost killed and you were stabbed. Absolutely not. I'm traumatized. I know I wasn't here and you should be the traumatized one but- I'm gonna stop talking now," She throws her hands up in surrender, making me laugh. "So I'm staying here until you get discharged unless you need me to get you anything."

"Okay," I nod slowly, "thank you."

It takes a painstaking half hour for the doctor to show up in my room. But he's smiling and tells me the same story that the nurse told me about Spencer. But he thanks me for protecting the other patients and staff by taking down the unsub before he could hurt anyone. He checks out the stitches in my leg and tells me everything looks good, then hands over the discharge papers. I've never signed a document so quickly in my life.

"Alright, we're gonna take out your IV and then you'll be good to go. Just don't be harsh with your neck, Agent, there's internal and external bruising. And, of course, be careful with the stitches in your leg. Don't run or do anything like that and make sure to clean it every day." I grimace as the nurse pulls out my IV, meaning I'm completely free to go.

"Thank you," I thank them both, swinging my legs over the bed. Penelope is holding my clothes out to me with a huge smile. "Go change, hot stuff, and go get your man."

I jump off to bed and throw my arms around her shoulders, squeezing her in a hug. "Remind me to throw a Penelope-Garcia-Appreciation party on our next day off, okay? Actually, don't. It'll be a surprise."

"You're the sweetest. But you can dote over me when you're not stressing over our resident genius. Get changed and I can bring you over to his room." Penelope pats my back and forces the clothes in my hands. "Off you go."

It's a bit of a challenge to change my clothes with stitches in my leg and a gash in my stomach but the promise of getting to see Spencer is enough to get me through. I'm pulling my hair into a bun as I walk back into the hospital room, smiling at Penelope. "Okay, take me to him, please, I can't wait any longer,"

"Yeah, let's go, beautiful," Penelope leads me out of the cold room and down a hallway. We take an elevator ride down a few floors and then we come out to a familiar floor and I completely abandon Penelope because now I know where I'm going. I rush, as best as I can, to Spencer's room.

He looks up the moment he hears my shoes against the tiled floor and smiles, sitting up the tiniest bit. "Hi!" He grins, eyes instantly tearing up. "Are you okay? What-"

"I'm okay," I promise, sitting on the side of the bed and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "I just wanted to get back to you," I mumble into his shoulder, wary of his bandaged and injured neck

"You saved my life," Spencer breathes out, arms wrapping around my waist but not too tight. "You chased that unsub and you- you saved me."

"Yeah, well," I pull away and smile at him weakly, "you did have to watch me seduce him so I guess saving your life made up for that."

Spencer scrunches up his nose, pushing a fallen piece of my hair behind my ear. "Yeah, I heard some of that. I don't think I heard all of it because after I took out my IV, my head started spinning."

I place a hand on his cheek, smiling as I notice his eyes have their shine again. "You don't do that to me again, okay? You can't- I was so scared out there." Tears start pouring down my cheeks uncontrollably. "I couldn't find you and I was calling your name and then I found you and you couldn't even talk and I was covered in your blood and-"

"Hey, hey," Spencer cuts me off, pulling me back into his chest as my body shakes with sobs, "I'm sorry. I didn't try to get shot, you know that but I'm not gonna try to get shot again, I promise." I laugh, nodding against the uncomfortable fabric of his hospital gown. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you like that. It was an accident. I'm not gonna leave you in the field like that ever again, I promise."

I nod once more. "Okay," I whisper, "I'm holding you to that." I lift my head once more and let Spencer wipe my tears with his thumbs. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, my neck is sore. Not too much pain though, not yet at least. I'm just tired," Spencer lets out a small sigh.

"Okay, well, why don't you get some sleep?" I suggest, leaning down to kiss his cheek before slipping off the bed. "Hotch said we're leaving as soon as you're discharged and that should be soon. So get some rest and I'll be here when you wake up."

I move the table away from the bed and pull the book off of Spencer's lap, effectively removing his main distractions. I'm about to drag over a chair, but Spencer grabs my hand before I can. "Don't go," he begs softly, squeezing my hand. "Will you lay with me? You've been away for hours and I know you'll be right there but I want you right next to me."

"Yeah, of course, I will," I nod, gently climbing onto the bed, kicking off my shoes. I situate myself under the thin sheet and rest my head on Spencer's chest, finding comfort in the steady beat of his heart. But I look up at him and sit up just once more, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you."

He smiles, kissing me again. "I love you too." And so, I rest my head on Spencer's chest and close my eyes, drifting off to a peaceful sleep with my boyfriend right beside me.

///

"Rose?" My neck aches as I turn it too quickly when my boyfriend calls my name. But he's pointing to a pair of seats while holding a blanket, eyebrows raised. "Good?" I nod, giving a thumbs up.

He nods back, putting the blanket down to claim the two seats. Rossi slips past me and claims a seat by himself, already pouring himself a drink. "I'm glad our two favorite lovebirds are okay," he says as he passes me, patting my shoulder.

I sit beside Spencer and pull the blanket over my lap, making sure it's evenly distributed between the two of us. I'm half asleep already but Spencer is, not surprisingly, reading a book. So I cuddle up to his side after moving the armrest up and rest my head on his shoulder, letting my eyelids flutter closed.

"Hey," Spencer whispers, setting his book down a moment later, "you know what we should do when we get home?"

"Hotch already approved vacation time for us," I mumble, too tired to entertain his playful tone.

"You should buy a new pair of jeans."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"I saved your life twice so I guess I must."

"That was weirdly backhanded," Spencer chuckles, and the simple and oh-so-familiar sound brings a smile to my face. "But, you know, again, thanks for doing that,"

"I'd do it every day of my life. You know that,"

"I know," he sighs, slumping back in his chair, book long forgotten. "So what about those jeans?"

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #mgg #matthew gray gubler #matthew gubler #gublernation #matthew gray gubler fic #matthew gray gubler fanfiction

260 notes · View notes

ceaseless-enemy · 3 years

Text

TURNTABLES AU: THE KRIEGHAUS CORRESPONDENCE LETTERS

CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of torture methods, evil RHM content, death, corpses, trauma, very vague descriptions of medical procedure

you have been warned

February 27th, 2014

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

I’m surprised you decided to contact me. I was under the impression the Toppats were an “every man for himself” sort of group.

That said, I think you were right to be concerned this time around. The impression General Copperbottom gives off is of someone that believes Toppats are tantamount to war criminals.

I’ll talk with The Lieutenant soon and try to assure things remain as civil as possible in this situation, although I can’t exactly guarantee he’ll be receptive. He seems to be very irritable since Canterbury’s arrival.

April 2nd, 2014

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

He wasn’t very receptive. In fact, he got angry at me for even suggesting that we try for more peaceful resolution. I didn’t expect him to agree with something fully nonviolent of course, but it was like he couldn’t fathom a solution where it wasn’t required.

He went as far as to mention the idea of enhanced interrogation. I reminded him that people are debating about it right now; that a majority of people in the US find it barbaric, and him enacting it would cause unneeded controversy.

Usually The Lieutenant is a very practical and logical man, but I’m worried that what I told him won’t be enough to sway him.

May 17th, 2014

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

He enacted the first set of interrogation techniques that I mentioned in my last letter. I didn’t exactly expect him to do it, but now that he’s crossed that line, I’ll have to shift my goal.

I can’t prevent him from breaking ethical codes, but I’ll try to dissuade him from going into more physical interrogation methods. I don’t have much else to say.

I can barely register it all.

January 23rd, 2015

To: Lieutenant R. H. M.

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

I read what you’ve written down. Your recent activities, and your thoughts behind them.

What’s wrong with you?

I’m serious. I never expected all of this to come from you. Sure, you’ve never been the most expressive person, but you’ve always had a good core. You’ve always cared about people.

The way you talk about it is all I can think about. Like you’re doing menial housework. Like you’re cleaning a window. You hate it, but once you’ve done it, you sound so proud.

I can’t believe that you’d just do that. There has to be something I’m missing. We need to talk about this as soon as you have time off.

February 7th, 2015

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

I talked with The Lieutenant again the other day. I’m a little out of sorts. I’m sorry if this isn’t as succinct or formal as usual. I failed at dissuading him from more unsavory ideas again. It’s like he’s determined to do this.

What does he even have to gain? What does he want from the Toppats? Do you know? Is there even anything specific, or does he only have venom for you because he’s General Copperbottoms sycophant?

I’m sorry. You don’t even know what I’m so upset about. Next week, he’s incorporating more barbaric enhanced interrogation techniques. I can’t guarantee Canterbury’s safety (mental or physical) anymore. If there’s anything I can think of that I can do aside from giving you updates, I’ll let you know.

February 15th, 2015

To: Lieutenant R. H. M.

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

You haven’t come by my office lately. I assume it’s over our disagreements? Look. I don’t want our friendship to end over political differences.

I may not agree with you, but why is that a problem? Please consider: If you understand my perspective, and I understand yours, it can be beneficial to the both of us. As people, as friends, and as military workers. Just food for thought.

I don’t think having only the general as company is good for you.

April 3, 2021

February 29th, 2015

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

The more time passes, the more this escalates. From what I’ve heard, Canterbury’s jaw is broken. There isn’t much I can do for him at the moment. I have no way to access him.

This entire situation; The Lieutenant, The General, having to lie to the higher-ups, having to see my colleagues lie for their own sakes: It’s FUBAR.

This surpasses the legality of what you do. This surpasses legal jargon in general. This sort of thing is ethics.

The most I can do is document, although I don’t know how helpful that is right now. I’ll keep you posted if anything new comes up.

To: Lieutenant R. H. M.

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

I’ve been thinking about the Canterbury situation, lately. More specifically, about his broken jaw. I don’t think he’ll be able to confess anything in that state.

I know it’s pointless to ask you to stop the enhanced interrogations, but may I suggest stopping the waterboarding? It’s impractical.

I just want you to think about it.

May 27th, 2015

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

This will be brief. Not much new has happened, just more torture. It brings me no pleasure to write that so flippantly.

Today, though, was a lot. Several hours ago, everyone in the camp heard screaming. Not just yelling, or your standard screams of distress we’d almost grown used to; this was different. It was inhuman shrieking.

I asked The Lieutenant what happened, but he just shrugged and said “nothing”. He’s never lied about what he’s done before. I believe him.

… What was that, then?

June 28th, 2015

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

Canterbury’s brother was threatened, according to the Lieutenant’s logs. I would recommend checking on him, or keeping an eye on him in general.

The Lieutenant hasn’t crossed that line yet, but I don’t know how long that will last.

[12:23 AM]

July 20th, 2015

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

The Lieutenant has become unrecognizable to me at this point. I never thought he’d go this far. At this point, he’s stopped caring whether or not Canterbury ends up dead.

At first I thought he was never this type of person. A big part of me desperately wanted to believe that General Copperbottom took something small in him and twisted it into something horrible.

The fact of the matter is, The Lieutenant was like this all along. He just never got the opportunity to show it until now.

September 7th, 2015

To: Hubert Galeforce

From: Wilhelm Krieghaus

The Lieutenant came into my office today. He looked so tired. There wasn’t anything else there. He announced: “I killed him.” And sat in front of me in silence for an hour, before leaving.

After an entire year of torture, horror, lying and corruption:

This can’t be how it ends.

The Final Canterbury Log

-Wilhelm Krieghaus

September 9th, 2015

This is the last I’ll write or speak of the matter. After this, I’m done, I’ll wash my hands of this affair, and strive to get court-martialed. Two nights ago, Thomas Chestershire brought H.J. Canterbury’s corpse to me.

I asked him what for, and he told me “The body’s our best chance of getting those two in trouble”. He seems more tired of them than I am. I never really noticed how he felt before I guess. It never mattered.

On top of the conditions Canterbury had been subjected to for a year, rigor mortis had already set in quite a bit. There wasn’t much chance of being salvaged, but dammit I was tired of the constant stress.

So I did what I could.

There was so little left of him at the end of the day, but there was enough. All you really need is a brain; who you are, how you feel, and all your memories. I could have had nothing but a brain.

I had his brain functioning pretty early on, but most of his organs, all his limbs, and his mess of a bottom jaw had to be replaced with advanced augmentations.

It cost me two nights of sleep and basic self-care, but that’s a given.

I have him strapped to the bed currently, for his (and my) safety. His condition is stable but I don’t know when he’s going to wake up.

When I’ve sufficiently explained the situation, I’ll need to find a way to get him to the Toppats undetected and unsuspected (pardon the rhyme.) That is, assuming he will even be able to function that well.

It’s also a possibility that he’ll wake up, with very heavy physical and mental impairments.

I’ll need to make a plan for that.

#turntables #turntable au #turntables au #turntable toppats #turntable government #turntable wilhelm #turntable Lieutenant #turntable Canterbury #etc etc

9 notes · View notes

rukia-uchiha-98 · 4 years

Text

Life Deterioration

Hi, how are you guys

there is no beta reader this time so I’m sorry for the disaster that i did in this oneshot also I was really tired when I wrote it, just trying to get rid of the headache so it didn’t get out like I wanted it to be but i think it works out

I hope you enjoy

prompt : body swap

warnings : dark, self-harm

words count : 2550

@shisakuweek

Peace treaty was the first occasion sakura met shisui in, the exact same day her clan almost became extinct, she hates the uchiha in general and shisui in specific, maybe if he didn't try to make a friend withe her it would've been different but no, he had to praise her look, her knowledge and her personality those things that no one liked in her clan, that she was always being scolded for. And when she started to get attached to him, she saw him killing her family, her harmless father and loving mother, he killed them both with his own sword and If the senju aid didn't arrive when it did, she would've been dead for years now.

Shisui never regrets any thing he does or had done except that one time when he was involved in the massacre against the haruno, he didn't though not even in the slightest idea that avenging his father's death would cause him this much of regret, he decided to kill the man who killed his father after killing his beloved wife before his eyes but he was oblivious for the fact that this man had a daughter who happened to be the exact same girl who –it was safe to say- he liked immediately after meeting her, she was strikingly beautiful, pink silk strands with clear emerald eyes, he didn't think that such colors existed until he saw her, she didn't try to cling on him or flirt with him or any of his clansmen like other girls always do, she was energetic with a stunning smile, well educated, had great ideas and a brilliant mind and those characteristics were rare that he didn't met a women or a girl with them except his aunt mikoto and based on what his father used to tell him, his mother. So Imagine his happiness when he got to know her, he even introduced her to his best friend and cousin itachi, and even though he was the king of flirting, he never did that to any other girl, she was special. He was shocked to say The least, she was standing at the door staring in shocked expression after dashing like a madman screaming for her parents to run away, he knew how does it feel to see your father stabbed to death in front of you and live after, he didn't want her to live in that hell so he stabbed her and he wasn't a fool he knew where to aim if he wanted to kill but there was a part of him didn't want her to die, the part that likes her.

He didn't keep a trace on time so he didn't exactly knew how much time has passed since that day. To say he was shocked when he saw her again is an underestimation. She changed, so much he barly recognized her, her tall bubble gum colored silk is now very short showing her delicate long neck, her clear emeralds are clouded by hatred and revenge directed to him he noticed when there eyes met. Sitting straight on her horse beside the second in line senju heir, indicating that she was in a high rank in their forces. " isn't that the girl you showed me when we went to the haruno several years ago?", "she is" confirmed shisui "it looks like she's here to avenge her parent's death, she's here for my head", "and what makes you sure about it?", "cause I'm the one who killed them and stabbed her", "well, she looks furious, and I don’t think she will be satisfied unless you're dead, so look out!", "I will".

She moved ahead, riding to the space that separated their both armies shouting so every one could hear her out "if anyone encountered Uchiha Shisu, retreat or send him to me, he is my prey. Senju, charge", after her cue both armies marched. She went off like a bullet killing every single soldier trying to get in her way preventing her from getting shisui's head, she didn't stop not until she reached him. Exhausted and panting heavily they both charged at each other, she was thinking how much she heated him, and he was thinking how things would be different if he didn't avenge his father. They fought in silence until she broke it hissing " I'm going to avenge my parents, I'm going to get your head", "believe me, you're going to regret that", "as if" and then a silent fight until they both were drained. Ready to drive their last blow, ready to kill and get killed, shisui wanting to break free from his guilt and sakura wishing to meet her parents they both charged, and the blood was spilled.

She woke up with a throbbing head and killing abdominal pain, why did she wake up? She was supposed to be dead, or was she already and she's in hell? she didn't know but either way she was feeling like hell so it didn't matter. She felt out of place for some reason and when she tried to move she couldn't. From her medical experience she could tell that she was on the verge of death and that she barely made it

Shisui opened his eyes to the white ceiling, the compound hospital he thought. He didn't feel any major pain just a slight stomach discomfort which was good but strange, he clearly remember that sakura's stab was deadly and if a miracle happened he wouldn't feel this healthy and he was sure he would suffer serious complications, but here he was lying on the bed as healthy as he could be.

She didn't know what had blown her head the most, was it the fact that she woke up in the uchiha compound or that when her vision focused she saw one of the uchiha heirs looking at her with worried eyes or maybe it was him calling her shisui but no it's most definitely was when she found out that she wasn't in her body anymore, she was in uchiha shisui's body and this fact led to one of two conclusion, either her body was dead or shisui was in it.

He didn't think that it was possible to wake up in another person's body until he noticed he woke up in sakura's body, which meant that she's staying in his body hopefully and not dead, he needed to meet her and figure out how did this happen and how to go back to there own body, but now that was nearly impossible, it looks like the senjo adored her, that or they are suspecting him which is unlikely to happen since they thought he lost his memories.

Amnesia was what she got as a diagnose to justify her lack of information about shisui's life. Sakura figured out that the main uchiha household cares deeply for shisui, she wasn't left behind not even for minute and they helped her with every thing until she was healed, which was really long time, uchiha's medical care was really bad, no trained healers and absolutely bad medical supplies, it took her a total two years to heal completely, and being sakura she took the chance to get to know every thing about the 25 years old shisui and the uchiha. Shisui's mother died while giving birth to him, he grew up with his father who was a warrior get killed when shisui went to his first war that was against the haruno-senju alliance on her father's hand. Ironic, right? Yeah his father was killed before his son's eyes while begging her father to spare the kid from witnessing this, but it looks like her father was tyrannous in his young days. She stopped blaming shisui for what he did, but that didn't mean that she forgave him or that her hatred for him faltered.

The senju medical care was magnificent to say the least, he was completely healed within 6 months,then he took his time to adjust to sakura's body that was surprisingly strong for being petite aside from the fact that she was a girl in her late teens. Sakura's father suffered from a depression before he met her mother who seemingly had health issues that made it very hard for her to bear children and having sakura was a miracle.

Aside from getting to know shisui, sakura planned for her revenge, okay let's be clear, she doesn't blame him anymore but she didn't forgive him and she can't figure out how she feels about him as a person anymore, it was hard to determine after she knew every single detail about him despite that she was determined to destroy the uchiha from the inside.

Shisui felt that he was falling deeper for sakura, two years were more than enough to make him memorize all of her and love all of her. He felt regret eating him alive when he knew that he was the reason of her depression,he felt proud when he knew that she became one of the strongest warrior between the senju lines, he was amused when he knew that she became the most skillful healer among them, he was happy to know what she became to and more determined to make them work out.

A real Peace treaty was signed between the Uchiha and the Senju this time and shisui couldn't be happier, he will get to see her or himself –he wasn't sure anymore- and talk things out, try to find a solution to this ridiculous situation which in his opinion has gone so far but to his horror, she didn't recognize him or better say she didn't recognize herself. Great, just great this would never be solved unless they both worked on it, and now she doesn't seem to remember.

She would be liar if she didn't say that her heart didn't flutter when she saw him or her body in better description, she misses her old self, her family and her life, it's not like the Uchiha treated her poorly, she was shisui after all and they didn't doubt her at all, it was safe to say she grew attached to them after two and half years of care and love, and she decided to spare them her revenge.

"Did you hear that? Two members of the Uchiha elders council were found dead this morning and i heard they were killed with cold blood", that was what shisui had been hearing from the early morning that day, and it was making him furious, how did they get killed when there supposed to be a tight guarding around them.

A council was held out to look through the crime and investigate it, anxious cries were heard from outside the room, "we must duplicate the security within the compound" one of the terrified elders shouted, "it's already as high as it could be" assured him fukagu and went on "the important thing now is to know who had done it", " it's the senju I assure you, they are such..." the elder was cut down by shisui's voice " I don't think the senju signed the peace treaty to do this, they wanted to end the bloodshed as much as we wanted it" sakura would never allow anyone to accuse her second family, "shisui is right, if the senju wanted to make any move they wouldn't be sneaky about it, it's not like hashirama" assured madara and after brief silent shisu's voice echoed again " you know what, i think the murderer is among us, one of the clan members, I mean don't you see it? The killer walked under our noses without fear, no one can ever do it unless he was sure that no one would suspect his action while walking in the compound", "that's enough shisui, we get it", "as you wish madara".

Her plan was simple, she would kill four or five of them, plant the doubt between them and let them kill each other. Very simple right, no children or women or harmless elders would die, only the dirty warriors who can't trust each other. Achieving her revenge and making favor for the uchiha and surprisingly there were a lot of them, one killed his brother, the other killed his own son, it was painful but it must happen and those who did the murder where executed.

When she was done withe the clan she sent a message to shisui to ask him for a meeting, she wanted to end this once for all, she wanted to get back to her family, and how happy was she when she saw that shisui didn't delay the meeting and was as eager as her to end this farce, and they met.

The strangest thing that you could ever try is to hear your voice coming out of your body by another person, it was kind of funny so shisui decided to let sakura do the talk, "you know, after being in your body for almost 3 years now and knowing every thing about you made me change a lot of my ideas and thoughts about you and your family, I don't blame you anymore for killing my parent, and i don't hate all the uchiha now and it's safe to say that I've loved some of them, and you! I really don't know, it's absolutely not love but it's not hate either, my feelings towards you have been tormenting me, I can't figure them out and can't get rid of them either and it hurts, it hurts to much that I can't bear it anymore, so I'm here today to see what would happen to you if I committed a suicide in your body", she took out shisui's dagger and stabbed her self with it, shisui tried to stop her but he couldn't reach her.

A bright light illuminate the area around them and when shisuis's eyes sight focused again, he was back in his body unharmed but sakura was lying down with a massive cut in her abdomen strangely enough his dagger wasn't what cause her injury. He knelt beside her "why have you doen this?", "cause I wanted to get rid of those feelings that hunted me", he didn't know what was weaker, her voice or his, " we could've chased it down together, we could've figured it out together", "that would've been impossible, cause there isn’t we", "but I loved you truly and truthfully, I was ready to make up for all my mistakes", "sorry it didn't turn out like you imagined, but there never would be us, not in this life time at least" that was the last thing she said before she die, "maybe in our next life, we would be ninjas like we both dreamed and we would live in peace together in the same place, just wait for me", shisui wasn't happy to be back to his body like he thought he would be. Two days after sakura’s death a dead body was found in the uchiha compound, they suspect it to be related to the incident from days prior, but they knew that he was badly depressed and attempted to suicide more than five times in the past two days.

#ShiSakuWeek0920 #dark #selfharm #shisaku #shisui uchiha #haruno sakura #sakura #shisui #shisui x sakura #self harrrm

29 notes · View notes

bigowlenergy · 4 years

Text

heat + horror

next chapter of How to Raise the Dead!

Maddie stands at the door to the basement, hazmat tied down around her waist, staring into the green dark. To her left, the cicada scream en mass. The refrigerator hums at her back. The portal buzzes below. The cold air that swirls up the steps is incredible against the summer heatwave. Maddie. Wants to go down. Hesitates, still.

Danny is down there.

Maddie loves her son, but she loves her daughter, too, and knows better than to bother Jazz when she’s trying to finish a paper and watch the finale to her latest K-drama at the same time (again) and expect anything but getting snapped at and increasing her stress. The experience is just new, with Danny. He was always the relaxed one, but once it hit 80 degrees in the house, the basement became his domain, with the same low tolerance for interruption. With an extra edge of physical discomfort and medical concern. Maddie just doesn’t want to upset him further. It feels like she does that all too often, but Danny just won’t say anything when she does. It’s hard to understand him. She wants to, but he’s pulled so far away from them already...

“Hey, mom.” Jazz stands in the entryway, kicking her flip flops off, two bags of gas station ice slung over her shoulders. “He moved yet?” She asks.

“No, I don’t think so. I was just about to check,” Maddie offers, stepping in to take the second bag from Jazz. She’d stepped out to get some water. Hadn’t gone back. Condensation from the ice leaks down her shoulders, sticks her hair to her neck. Instant relief.

“Alright.” She says. “You coming down? It’s cold.”

And Maddie hesitates at the mouth of the threshold, for just a moment.

“Sounds nice,” She tells the stairs, hidden under the clanging of Jazz’s steps.

At the bottom, all she can see is the ring of lawnchairs and the little blow up kiddie pool that Jazz is dumping her bag of ice in. The clear vinyl tubing of the cheap outdoor furniture catches every refraction of green light from the open portal. An oversized alien dollhouse in Maddie’s lab. The smell of squeaky fresh plastic overwhelms the ectoplasm. The basement has always been climate controlled, and underground besides, so the downright frosty air that the open portal adds to the mix creates the strange atmosphere of a sauna in winter. Inverted.

But the chilliest thing by far is Danny.

Maddie finally gets a good look at him when Jazz collapses back into her own chair, sticking her feet into the pool with a great heaving sigh. Maddie appreciates her running to the store for them. It’s nearly 110 out. She goes to dump her part of the ice in and nearly fumbles to keep from pouring it straight over Danny’s head. He’s buried up to his chest, now. What she thought were odd shadows from the portal are actually his folded knees, the only other part not under ice. His eyes are glazed and dull, staring sightlessly into the green vortex, his head pillowed on the wet plastic rim of the pool. Soaked hair drawn back by one of Jazz’s headbands drips slowly onto the concrete floor. Maddie frowns at that. They specifically asked the kids to make sure nothing in the lab was exposed to water. Should have put a towel down.

She probably can’t blame Danny for lack of foresight. He doesn’t look good.

“Hi, sweetie,” Maddie whispers, tucking the ice in around his legs instead.

His blank expression doesn’t change as he belatedly mouths ‘hi’ back to her.

“Drink your slush,” Scolds Jazz, kicking at the ice idly. Danny’s buried hands slowly tip the half melted slushie toward his face. The straw rests in his mouth for a while, but Maddie’s fairly sure he doesn’t drink any. Her poor baby. Jazz had picked it up for him the first time she went to the store, nearly three hours ago.

Maddie pulls her hands from the ice and wipes them on her shirt. Goes to the monitoring station set up on the side of the portal. The nodes taped to Danny’s neck are probably the only things keeping him from fully submerging himself. His oxygen levels are lower than his usual terrifying baseline of 87%, hovering in the 84-86% range, and his heartrate is just short of clinical death. Most worryingly, his temperate is reading at nearly 80 - a deadly fever, considering his normal 71.3.

Maddie wishes they knew how to really help him. This feels strangely like a - not like a test, not really, but like something is being withheld from them. Like Danny knows what to do, but is still too scared to tell them. Like it’s something he doesn’t want them to know, another little secret on the pile. A tiny declaration of loss of trust.

Or he’s afraid of them knowing.

Not that he could tell them, right now. He’s been basically unresponsive to even the most drastic of stimuli since his internal temp hit 75 an hour ago. Jack had driven out for the lawn furniture around that time, helped wrangle Danny out of the bathtub and into the lab for better monitoring, then disappeared again a few minutes ago. Maddie has an inkling of what he’s up to, so she’ll just hold down the fort and see what happens.

But Danny. Looking at this array, she has the clinging idea that this would be easier for him if he was a ghost. But even now, he’s so hesitant about letting them see him. Has never, in word or deed, trusted them with that. It’s an open secret. What he is.

Who he is.

Jazz knows; Maddie knows she known for some time now. Maddie knows. Does Jack? Maddie knows. She tries to imagine that alien presence in this little family tableau. More green in the air. An extra buzz of static under the portal. White hair, dripping. Maddie knows, but it feels like she knows less than she did three weeks ago.

She’s seen Phantom with her own eyes. Seen him fly and fight and snarl like an animal. Seen him bounce and smile and joke. How does he do it? Maybe Maddie just isn’t ready for the perfect intersection of those things yet. Does - does Danny’s ghost leave his body?

Is Maddie really ready to face her sons’ corpse and his ghost at the same time?

Jazz splashes suddenly, feet shifting, head tipped back dramatically off the edge of her seat, hair in a huge bun, wearing her only pair of shorts. Little embroidered ghosts on the hem. Would he electrify the pool, if he changed?

Maddie sucks in a breath and drags her eyes back to the monitor. Maybe it would be better if he did. Actually. The shock might be what he needs to stabilize his heart. He’s obviously reliant on cold temperatures to facilitate stronger conductivity of his electrical impulse based neurology. Like any other ghost. He’s losing stability of consciousness. Unable to rely on the physical, chemical reaction based impulses of the li - of humans. Maddie’s trying not to think about it. She doesn’t want to think about it. The monitor won’t tell her anything else.

Danny, the ghost, Danny, her son, is suffering from mild destabilization and his human body is too close to brain dead to keep him from -

God, Maddie is glad she doesn’t know.

Jack, bless that man, saves her from her thoughts by clambering down the stairs.

“Icecream!” He calls, voice pitched less exuberantly loud than usual. In deference of the small lab space, empty of the usual noise of running machines, or in deference to Danny. Or her own nerves. Jack hands Jazz a pint of strawberry pistachio and a spoon, sets a bag near the pool and then appears at Maddie’s side. Kisses her cheek. Glances at the monitor.

“How’s he doing?” He asks, handing her her own pint and a fork. Pecan Caramel soymilk.

“Not much worse. But we don’t know beyond his baselines, so it could mean anything. Temperature’s been stable for the last twenty minutes.” Maddie digs out the first pecan she sees and keeps it in her mouth to cool her sensitive teeth. Offers nothing else. Jack can read the screen. If he arrives to the same conclusion, then they’ll talk about it upstairs. Away from the kids. Hopefully, Danny’s too busy barely existing to overhear, if it comes down to it.

Jack nods, bullshooter blue eyes sweeping over the monitor. One huge, extremely hot hand rests on her back, goes to rub soothingly, but Maddie shoos him with her fork.

“You’re cold!” He says delightedly, sticking his hands on the folds of her turned down hazmat. He spares her a smile, then snaps his attention back to the screen. Lingers on Danny’s oxygen levels. “Well,” Jack says, straightening up, “Let’s try to get his internal temperature down a bit, then. Come on, Danno!”

He unties the cloth bag and pulls out a full gallon of icecream. There is no room in the freezer for that.

“Okay, buddy, I got us a real treat, straight from the farmer’s market creamery, you know, the people with the ecto-infected cows we helped out last spring? Got us a discount! Anyway, it’s custom. Chocolate icecream, fudge pieces, cacao nibs, coconut shavings, sprinkles, cookie bits, and those little soft dough chunks -” He cuts off, leans in closer to the pool, watches Danny intensely for a few seconds. “Yep! Extra cookie pieces. Wanna try some?”

Jack sticks two spoons in the open gallon and sets it aside. Gently eases the mostly ignored red slushie out of Danny’s hands and passes it off to Jazz. She doesn’t hesitate to pour some of it over her icecream. Maddie shudders. Bites her pecan. Takes a seat.

Jack pulls a shop towel out of his shorts pocket and soaks it in the pool, then wipes his face with it before slinging it around his neck. Takes a tiny spoonful of the icecream and starts to set it in Danny’s direction.

“Just try a bit, Danno. I’ll let you drink dry ice again,” He cajoles. Maddie whips her head up to glare at him. Jazz shrieks with her mouth closed, prevented from yelling properly by a well timed frozen strawberry. Jack ignores them both. He’d better have a damn good reason and some damn good results.

He gets Danny to eat a little, at least. He’d refused dinner last night, and it’s almost 7 PM, now. After a while, Jack leans in again. All Maddie can hear from a bare few feet away is a quiet, wet little rasp.

Jack beams his most reassuring grin at their son. “Of course it’s got ectoplasm in it; it’s for you, Danny-boy!” He says. And. That might be the first time any of them have put it to words. Admitted it out loud. It should feel like a taboo broken, but somehow, it eases a little relief into the atmosphere. A confession they all share.

Then Jack frowns a bit. Eyebrows drawn down in concern when he says “Is it not enough?”

Danny shakes his head, a light tremble of motion. The wet plastic squeaks under his neck. Lies still. Jack sits back, looks up to Maddie. Jazz is leaned back in her seat, staring down at Danny with a sharp frown of disapproval on her face. A fierce set to her eyes that tells Maddie everything she needs to know.

“We’ll get you more, sweetie,” Maddie tests the waters carefully, kneeling down across from Jack, sets a hand on Danny’s drying hair, keeps Jazz in her sights. Danny closes his eyes and shakes his head again, turning further into her palm and sighing quietly. A low, tired sound of dismissal. Not for Maddie. Jazz looks away, guilt and worry plain on her face. Bites her lip. Lids her icecream and mumbles an excuse of a goodbye, looking a bit mutinous as she leaves.

Maddie has to wonder if she should step back from this. Let Jazz do whatever needs to be done that Danny is hiding from them. But she can’t. These are her children; they shouldn’t need to be providing something for themselves. It’s her duty to care for them.

But. She is also an ectobiologist. Knows damn well what ghosts need. Has done in-field observations on this sort of thing for at least a decade.

It’s not the amount of ectoplasm that matters. It’s the source.

They can’t provide what Danny needs from the lab.

Sure, they’ve never seen Phantom feeding, but he’s so rarely seen at all. Elusive. Non-normative behavior. Maybe -

An incomplete hypothesis has never sat well with her. Her son being miserably sick while she has the power to help him is not sitting any better.

“Danny,” She says firmly, gently taking his cold face in her hands and wincing at the mincing slowness of his pulse under his jaw. “Please, just tell us what’s wrong, honey.”

Something thumps upstairs. What is Jazz doing? Maddie had assumed she left the house. To get. Something. Bring something back? Get a ghost they know to help?

Maddie’s seen ghosts negotiate and willingly feed from each other. The statistically significant ratio of mutual encounter to violent attack was one of the things that tipped the scales for Maddie and Jack on whether ghosts have the capacity for civilized society or not.

If Danny has some sort of pact or agreement with a local ghost, then Maddie is intensely interested in learning every detail of it. As both his mother, and as an ectobiologist. Jazz probably has extensive notes.

Upstairs, something drags across the floor. Maddie jumps at the noise.

“I’ll go check,” Jack offers, glancing guiltily back to Danny before heading up the stairs.

Maddie turns her attention back to Danny and actually feels her heart skip a beat when she finds him staring up at her with dull, glazed eyes. His face too-still and eerie in the green light of the buzzing portal. It dyes him colors he shouldn’t be. She takes in a breath, and calms herself, confused by her own reaction. She’s been exposed to high levels of ectoplasm for nearly two decades. Maddie lost her innate terror-reaction to ectoentities years ago. This is completely unfamiliar to her.

But the way Danny’s too blank face flashes into guilt as he flinches and tries to pull away is not. It’s the same reaction as Jazz earlier.

Guilt. Something withheld. Upstairs, something drags against the wood floors again. Slow, deliberate.

“Danny -” She starts, concerned. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and turns away from her. Mouths something that she reads as sorry. A creak on the stairs. The lights flicker. Maddie jolts back in a crouch immediately, hand falling to where her weapons should be. One hand on Danny. Assuring his location. Her other hand closes on nothing. Of course not. Maddie doesn’t wear her weapons around Danny. Not any more. There’s nothing there. She forces herself into a more relaxed stance with some difficulty.

What could they have upstairs for this? Surely there’s not another ghost living in their house? Maddie would like to think that a second instance would be ridiculous. Maybe a hidden freezer of ectoplasmic samples? She looks down at the human ghost in her lab. Maybe he needs a rare type of ectoplasm, due to his unusual biology? His half human biology.

Half human. Needing ectoplasm and emotion, but also needing food. Maddie’s heart picks up uncomfortably, sits high in her throat. At the other end of the room is the wall safe with the Nightingale journals. The myths and accounts and legends of violent ghosts. Hunted for their danger to humanity. Their hunger. Maddie and Jack have long discounted or disproved those old folk tales.

But then again, they’d also disproved the existence of something like Danny.

“Danny -” She tries again, watching the way he’s turned away from her intently. Mouth pressed in a thin, unhappy line. Every ounce of him tense, entombed in ice.

Jack bounds down the stairs. Maddie jolts to her feet. He’s got the bulky old TV from the sitting room in his arms. Maddie’s heart is pounding, her mind blank.

“We’ve got the cure, Mads!” He cries. Jazz follows, carrying the DVD player and a stack of DVDs.

In the pool, Danny shudders strongly enough to stir the ice. Moans out “No,” loudly enough to be heard.

“Shut up, Danny.” Jazz says firmly. “You need this.”

Jack finishes plugging the makeshift entertainment center together. Jazz sets the DVDs down and sticks one in the player. Maddie’s seen every title on the pile, but doesn’t recognize them from anywhere in the house. All horror films, many classic. Monster movies. Slasher flicks. It’s so disingenuous from where her mind had been that she’s left frozen.

“They’re from Sam,” Jazz explains. “For when somebody runs out of juice.” She spares Danny an annoyed glare and hits play.

Oh. Oh. Maddie looks down at the miserable little ghost in the pool, her shadow cast long over his morose, guilty expression. He’s so pale. The colors from the TV flicker against the vinyl and ice and ectoplasm in surreal flashes. Some loud sound blares from the old speakers with more static than usual and Maddie jolts again. All her senses on high alert, an undercurrent of unnatural fear flooding her cerebellum. An artificially induced state of terror. The buzzing she’s been ignoring with all the ease of overexposure is Danny’s aura, set to 18 hz.

There hasn’t been a ghost attack in nearly a week. All the local specters retreating to the other side of the portal as the heat wave rages on theirs. Danny hasn’t been able to emphathically power himself in a week. Maybe longer.

Ghosts feed on fear.

He’s been overwhelmed with the heatwave, unable to patrol his territory, probably not physically fed in a while, and emotionally weakened. Of course he’s destabilizing.

Maddie lets out a breath of relief. This is something easily remedied, at least. She leans in and kisses Danny’s forehead. In apology. In absolution. Feels guilty for her distrust of him with such an irrational idea. Feels the rekindled instinctual hyperawareness of a ghost near to her vulnerable human throat. Ignores it. Helps Jack finish moving the chairs closer to the pool. Sets her icecream back on her lap. Settles in and lets herself overthink the timing of the next jumpscare. Watches her little ghost relax slowly as he draws strength from their shared, controlled fear. Wonders if he has a vomeronasal organ, with the way his mouth is a little open. If it helps with emphathic filtering, or if it’s psychosomatic. Wonders if he feels better. Fishes his hand out of the ice and holds it tight until he squeezes her back.

It’s been a while since they’ve had a family movie night.

#dannymay2020 #danny phantom #heat #fenton family fun times #maddie fenton #jack fenton #jazz fenton #danny fenton #heat and horror #fanfiction

72 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Paper Man.”

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED: GORE, VIOLENCE, MORAL AMBIGUITY

Ok guys, I am giving this a rated R for violence specifically. I wanted to play around with some extreme moral issues, and I ended up doing just that. So if you didn’t read the horror chapter, then I suggest very much not reading this one.

It is the third and last installment to my little prison series, so you can imagine what might be in here. I leave it up to you to decide if you can handle it or not. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. :)

I designed this specifically to expose Adam’s character to an extreme situation hes probably not emotionally equipped for.

Commander Vir wiped a smear of excess inc from the man’s skin and sat back to view his handiwork. He had to admit that he was definitely getting better now that he had figured out how to use the damned machine. Not to mention that he spent most of his free time drawing for fear that he was going to screw up and get his ass kicked.

In all honesty, he could have been a pretty talented artist if he had ever bothered to practice, but he hadn’t drawn, conventionally, since he was in middle school and, as a result, his drawing had suffered . However, now that he was in prison, he had a surprising amount of free time to work on extracurricular skills. If he wasn’t pumping iron with the others, he was working on a new tattoo design or applying the inc.

While it sucked pretty hard core to be here, he had found a relatively safe middle ground. Being able to do inc gave him certain privileges among the other humans, not to mention his personal connection to krill, who was invaluable as the crew’s medic. Having worked at the biggest trauma center in the galaxy, the kind of wounds they generally received was a cakewalk to the little alien.

The problem…..well, that was the Drev, and the fact that every human and their dog had, at one point, boasted to the larger, scarier aliens about having a member of operation steel-eye in their ranks. They did pretty much everything but directly mention his name, but they may as well have been dancing a naked jig around him with signs directed at his chest saying “Here I am come shank me.”

He wasn’t sure how well the goading would work with Drev. He had learned from Sunny, that a good Drev considered war to be impersonal, and those who beat you in battle were supposed to be treated with respect, but this was also coming from the Drev whose mother had gone off the deep end and plotted to destroy humanity, so he had a feeling he couldn’t rely on Drev honor to keep him from getting eviscerated.

He cleaned his tools off in the best way he knew how and allowed the man to finally take a look. He held his breath.

The man examined the tattoo for a very long moment, and for this horrible second, Adam feared he was about to be pounded into the concrete, “Good work Steel!” Instead, he got a heavy slap on the back, which probably would have slammed him into the pavement anyway for his trouble, but it simply sent him into a stagger, and the other man walked away flexing his arm. Adam grimaced. He wasn’t entirely sure had to do proper, post-art care was going to work down here, and just had to hope that the man wouldn’t end up with some sort of nasty infection.

His hopes were not particularly high.

At least Krill would be there to clean up the aftermath.

The rest of the humans were outside again today, but technically, all the facilities were open, still he preferred to go back upstairs to his cell for some privacy. He tucked the little case of tools into his single pocket and made his way into the building and towards the stairs. The Drev had taken the TV today and was watching some horrible remake of a classic 2000 movie. There were a lot of explosions and 0 practical effects.

Seemed like a drev thing to do, and he tried to remain unseen as he moved up the stairs and towards his cell. He made it there safely enough, got some privacy and, stupidly, stepped out just in time to meet a group of drev walking down the catwalk.

He froze just outside his room staring at them. They paused to look at him. No one moved for the longest time. Multiple arms flexed, and the large female at the front dropped her head aggressively over her throat. It didn’t take a genius to know what that meant, and before he knew it, his heart was hammering in his throat, his vision had tunneled, and his feet hammered against the catwalk as he bolted for the stairs.

A drev war cry rose behind him, and feet thundered against metal sending terrible vibrations up through his shins and knees. He made it to the stairs and nearly tripped. He caught himself with one hand watching as a life a paralysis flashed before his eyes. The thundering behind him grew stronger, so in a moment of panic, he flung himself over the side of the railing and dropped to the ground almost fifteen feet below. He took the entire impact through the inferior metal of his prosthetic leg collapsing onto the concrete with a sharp thud. Pain blossomed from that same same hip rocketing up his side and into his chest.

Something in the prosthetic snapped and splintered, but he didn’t have time to think about that, dragging himself to his feet and limping pst the tables, shoving other prisoners aside, and ducking past confused drev now being galvanized into action by the war cries of their leaders.

“RUN STEEL, RUN!” There was a thunderous roar, and a wave of humans came crashing into the tables stopping the Drev in their tracks as they tried to follow after Adam.

One prisoner wrenched a chair form the floor and clobbered a Drev in the head with it. Lights and sirens exploded around them as the guards came pouring onto the catwalks screaming for everyone to get down. The riot continued behind him as he scrambled on his busted prosthetic. He looked over his shoulder just in time to duck under the angry swing of an approaching Drev.

He hit the floor on hands and toes for a moment scrambling under a table before racing forward into one of the auxiliary hallways. A table collapsed behind him as the Drev leaped atop it. Cells flashed by him and footsteps gained.

More lights flashed, and the cell doors began to close slowly.

Footsteps were gaining, and were almost upon him as a hand shot out form one of the cells and bodily dragged him through the door, just as it was shutting. He collapsed to the concrete floor just as the Drev slammed into the bars reaching through for him with all four limbs, which it immediately regretted as a metal pipe was rammed into it’s outstretched hands. It cursed in it’s guttural language and drew back angrily.

Adam looked up to find a man standing just to his side. He was an unassuming thin man with little circular glasses, and a slightly soft physique, but he was grinning and stuck out his tongue out at the Drev who then stepped back growling and walked away knowing that he could not make it through the bars. The man dropped the pipe on the bed and turned to look at Adam.

“Close call there, Commander.”

Adam blinked in confusion and shock, “You, you know who I am?”

The man smiled, “Know who you are, I’d have to be living under a rock not to know. I have been following your career for a very long time. A big fan actually.” He held out a hand and hauled Adam to his feet, “Surprised the other's haven't figured it out yet, your disappearance has been all over the news.”

Adam limped over to the bed and sat down pulling up his pant leg to examine the damaged prosthetic. The plastic casing had been completely cracked up one side, and a few of the shock-absorbent springs had been popped from their sockets. The inside of the casing rattled. He frowned.

“I…. thanks for saving my life.”

The man just grinned, “happy to help an intergalactic hero.”

Adam awkwardly waved a hand, but inside he was more than relieved to have found someone who actually believed him. The man seemed pretty trustworthy compared to the others, and he wondered what kind of crime the man could have commuted to get himself into this sort of mess. He didn’t exactly seem like the type to be involved in overtly violent crime. Perhaps he was here on accident, just like Adam himself.

“I had actually been meaning to approach you earlier, but you got snagged up by the guys in the yard so fast, I didn’t really have the time.”

“And you weren't?” he wondered

The man shook his head, “No, I was a late night transfer. No one was here when I showed up, so I was able to fly under the radar. I don’t leave my cell all that much accept for meals, and they generally tend to ignore me.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It is, but it is also nice to have a little company every now and again. And the company of someone like you is even better. Someone who isn’t actually a violent criminal.”

“Than what are you here for if not violent crime.”

The man waved a hand, “Just something stupid. More of a misunderstanding really. Personally I think it was no big deal, but it really bothered some important people,and I ended up here. I Think they hope that I am going to rot here and be forgotten, but I don’t plan on that happening. I plan on serving my time, getting out and going back to my old life as it was.”

“That sounds nice, I would give pretty much anything to be back to my ship.” he sighed and leaned back against the concrete wall, “if I am being honest, It is nice to be around someone who isn’t totally nuts.”

“Personally, I think we should make this a habit.”

“Alright, I can agree to that…. What’s your name by the way?”

“Ted, Ted Gacey.” The two men shook hands, a pleasure to meet you.

The days turned into weeks and the weeks were dangerously close to turning into months. He had narrowly dodged a few more conflicts with the Drev, and the Boss had taken to sending him around with bodyguards as a show of force. That made slipping away to have privacy kind of difficult, but he had managed it meeting with his new friend on occasion to play cards in the other man’s single-bed cramped cell. It seemed as if the two of them had a lot in common, or at least enough. They had the same idea with current intergalactic politics, they had some of the same hobbies, and tended to agree with each other on more social issues.

It was a nice breath of fresh air.

Adam had even introduced krill to his new friend. Krill had been wary of the man from the beginning, but to be fair he was wary of pretty much everyone, and the Commander could hardly blame him. This was a prison after all, and most of the people who were here, were here for a reason, reasons they tended to make plainly obvious through their actions.

Despite being safeguarded from the Drev by other humans, he still wasn’t safe. On more than one occasion he had narrowly dodged some sort of altercation with one of the humans in the party. Generally it was over the asking price of a tattoo, which was based on yard currency in cigarettes and pills. Generally he ended up just handing them over to avoid an altercation. The issue with that is it meant some people knew they could squeeze him for his cash, and often came back to do so. He didn’t want to tell the boss for fear of being labeled a snitch, which was a pretty big insult in the yard, so he made sure to keep his earnings off his person at all times, and often lied to the guys when they came looking telling them that he had lost his currency to another guy with the same idea.

He wasnt looking forward to the day when the lying would catch up with him, but so was his current life. Of course there was also the occasional issue regarding his issue in holding his tongue, and he had ended up accidentally insulting someone on more than one occasion. He had been punched at least twice in the intervening months, but he supposed it could have been worse. He hadn’t broken his nose and both eye sockets were still in tact, so it could have been worse.

His third Issue came from Krill himself. While the little alien was mostly to fearful to do anything other than what he was ordered to do, he had an unfortunate sarcastic streak, which got him into trouble on occasion. Adam was forced to either talk the guys down, or turn the wrath away from his friend often resulting in a drop in pay, some sort of bargain or taking a hit. He was getting pretty sick and tired of it.

If he was being totally honest with himself, he had a relatively low pain threshold. He didn’t like getting kicked around. He wanted out of this place so badly, but the longer the days dragged on, the less hope he had. It was only a matter of time until something truly horrible happened, and there would be no way for him to stop it. How much was he willing to deal with?

He woke up as the hand clamped over his mouth. His eyes shot open, but his scream was muffled as the heavy, slick palm pressed into his face. He trashed against hands that held him down, but they were too strong. In groggy horror and fear he realized this was it, this was the end.

The event he had been waiting for.

The hand tightened, “Stop struggling, and shut up for a minute.” The voice hissed.

He grew very still breathing heavy, ragged breaths through his nose heart hammering eyes prickling with moisture brought on by total fear.

“It’s just me Steel, the boss. Now, I am going to remove my hand, and you are going to be silent.” A hint of relief, and he nodded his head as the hand was removed. He took a clear cleansing air of the musty cell and sat up.

The boss knelt next to his bed with krill hovering nervously behind him.

He rubbed his eyes, “What’s going on?” Adam asked groggily

The man held a finger to his lips “The boys and I just got word of someone on this block that has a less than stellar record.” Adam didn’t bother to point out the irony as the man continued, “This will be your chance to prove your loyalty to the yard kid. In the morning, we are going to fuck this son of a bitch up.”

Adam rubbed the back of his head nervously, “What…. What did he do.”

“Why don’t you take a look for yourself.” the man whispered, passing over a tiny screen showing the man’s incarceration records. As he read, Adam’s stomach twisted and hisirst reaction was one of visceral anger and an incomprehensible burning hatred. He tried to choke it back disgusted with his own feelings, but they kept coming back…. Images of his fists bloody with someone else’s blood.

The Boss chuckled darkly, “Thought you might have that reaction. You know how I feel about people who hurt kids.”

Adam wiped his mouth feeling nauseous pushing the screen back towards the boss

“So when you say, fuck him up.”

“I mean, we’re gonna kill him.”

Adam was suddenly struck with the most uncomfortable sensation in his entire life, a horrible sinking twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach negated and confused by the ravenous anger and glee that he felt at the idea. The feeling was horrible wrenching him in two different directions. One spoke with the voice of his mother and urged him to take the high road. It wasn’t his job to take care of these sort of problems, it was never okay to hurt people that is what the law was for, but another part of him disagreed. This was a lawless planet, and the law was broken besides it didn’t matter after reading that report he knew for certain that the an deserved worse than death, so really killing him was a mercy.

The nausea grew worse the more he thought. He was stuck inside a living nightmare. He couldn’t make a decision like this. Either way he would never be able to live with himself. If he chose to go along with he prisoners, he would be partially responsible for a murder, but if he didn’t he would, in essence, be siding with a monster.

The boss glowered at him with his dark, beady eyes, “You aren't going to chicken out on us are you? You know what this guy did. Not going to side with him are you because if you don’t help us ...”

He let the threat hang on the dark air of the cell. Adam felt his heart sinking even further, and now if he didn’t help murder someone he would be taking the side of the monster, and everyone would blame him for it. Who knows what would happen to him after that. He glanced over at Krill who could only look on at him in pity. He probably had no idea the internal struggle he was having right now, but it hardly mattered. Krill knew that this wasn’t going to be good.

“Who is this guy….” Adam wondered, “Someone we know?”

The man scrolled down on the report, “The guy’s name is Ted, seems to have managed to fly under the radar since getting here.”

Adam felt his heart go cold.

No no no no please no.

The screen turned to face him, and his stomach dropped into the very void itself. He knew that face, he knew that face as a friend, someone he liked, someone he had confided in, someone he had respected, someone he assumed had been innocent. He had played cards with him bemoaned their current living situation. The man had told him his crime was ‘no big deal. He felt nauseous and angry all over again. How could he help kill someone he had liked. How could he even feel remorse for a lying sack of shit that DESERVED to die. Why did he feel bad for WANTING to choke the life out of that man.

The competing emotions made him sick for real. His stomach churned.

The boss patted him on the back, “I know as a matter of course that the guy comes out once a day to eat. Tomorrow at noon, we strike. Made a truce with the bats and the beetles to get in the way of the guards so we can finish the job.”

“But… you hate the Drev.” he whispered his voice choked.

“I do, but I hate this guy even more.” He stood stretching, “I will leave you to a good night’s rest, Steel. Make sure you have your strength for tomorrow.” He got up and left as silently as he had come. Krill remained floating at the side of the cell. Commander Vir remained paralyzed where he sat. Conversations flashed through his head, he remember the man’s face, and couldn’t help his imagination as he wondered how those kids felt. Then his imaginings grew violent. He felt tendons squeeze and pop below his hands as he choked the life out of that man.

He lurched violently from his bed bracing himself with one hand against the wall as he hovered over the toilet. Behind him, his cellmate shifted in his sleep. His mouth watered as it tends to right before one loses their lunch. He squeezed his eyes shut. His skin crawled as he remembered every time that man had touched him, thought about where those hands had been and what they had done.

Saliva dripped in silver strings from his mouth. His stomach clenched. He dry heaved once, but nothing came up, and it didn’t even give him the courtesy of happening fading enough so he stood back up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Krill stood worriedly next to him as he sunk down to the floor next to the shiny silver bowl face in his hands

“What are you going to do?” krill whispered.

“I… I don’t know.” he gripped his hair in both fists still nauseous feeling sick and disgusting wishing that he could scrub off the first layer of his skin. Wishing that he had never ended up in this hell hole, “You only have one option….. You have to do it…” Krill’s voice was regretful but clearly resigned.

He dragged his fingers down his face, “I ...I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.” His stomach churned.

Krill stared at him in confusion sensing a but.

“But…. I want to…. Krill he he LIED to me, and he…. The things he’s done.” he shook his head as a flash of inhuman or perhaps superhuman anger rushed through him, “he deserves to DIE!” Krill took a step back from him in surprise. The anger faded again to a dep profound sickness, “Krill I… I don’t know what to do. Killing people it isn’t right, hurting people isn’t right, no matter how much I want to do it…… and i want to do it Krill. I've never wanted anything so bad before. I it scares me.” His voice dropped to a whisper.

Krill rested one of his appendages on the man’s shoulder face buried back in his hands, “I don’t entirely understand.”

He looked up agonized green eye caught in the dim light of the cell, “I…. he deserves to die Krill…. After reading that. I want nothing more than to kill him. That’s the most monstrous inhuman horrible thing that a person can do, and every…. Every fiber of my being want to hurt him, wants to make him suffer.” His voice hissed through his teeth with the strength of his anger before churning downwards, “But ... but I’m supposed to be better than that, Krill. Commander of the UNSC I am an upholder of the law, I i cant stoop to beating people to death. I can't do this. If I did this I would just prove I’m not worthy to hold the position, and I would disappoint everyone who has ever known me I’d disappoint myself. Id become one of them.” He glanced towards the door, “Thi issue is supposed to be something for the law.” He tugged at his hair in frustration, “But the law here is so twisted….. Krill I…. I don’t know what to do.”

Krlil Could only stand and watch helpless as the human struggled internally. Krill himself understood what was logical. The idea of a moral right and wrong was not something he could entirely comprehend. Things either made sense, or they didn’t and right now following rule of the gang was the only thing that made sense. The guy deserved it, the commander wanted too, and he would be punished if he didn’t, so there seemed to be only one logical course of action.

But then again, the man had always had a strong ‘moral compass’ and it could potentially cause some severe psychological damage if he did…. Something that other species would never have to deal with. Either way he would lose.

Krill tried to comfort his friend, but paranoia made him return to his cell for fear of retribution leaving Commander Vir alone in the dark curled in a ball head in hands wishing more than anything that he could be anywhere else than struggling with his own indecision. The gut most human part of him leading to violence while the higher part of him told him it was wrong.

He didn’t sleep that night.

The star rose on an unsuspecting landscape. The prison doors opened with a buzz and prisoners staggered rubbing their eyes groggily as they moved out into the hall. Commander Vir stepped from his room like a zombie eyes red face pale, only to be greeted by the other members of the crew who shared wolfish, knowing looks.

He didn’t have the stomach for breakfast, and sat, staring down the hall with a hammering heart. The hours ticked on bringing him closer and closer to a decision.

His heart ached.

Sitting out in the yard, head bowed face down, he still hadn’t come to a decision. He could hear the other humans muttering around him with anticipation for what was to come. He wished the guards would take notice of the strange behavior and act on it. They had to know something was up, with the prisoners sitting around doing nothing, looking hungrily towards the mess hall doors like a pack of ravening animals.

He didn’t want any part of this.

He had never thought in a million years that he would have to make this sort of decision, and what was worse, he hated how he felt. He wanted nothing more than to watch this guy get what was coming to him.

If he really was a good person, if he really cared, wouldn’t he tell someone?

There was a sharp whistle, and all the men on the yard stood eagerly from their seats and headed towards the doors. His heart sank into his chest, and he stood but had trouble making himself move. A hand clamped about hi shoulder from behind, and he was shoved towards the open doors, “Don’t chicken out on us now Steel.” Smiley whispered from behind.

He was pushed through the door sitting down at a table slightly away from the others. He had ordered Krill off to his cell for the duration of what was about to happen. He didn’t want the little alien to have to see what was about to happen. If he could have, he would have made it so that HE didn’t have to see what was going on.

He didn’t see how the guards couldn’t sense what was about to happen. The tension in the air was palpable and could have been hacked through with a dull knife. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, hoping that the man would not come through those doors. Perhaps he would stay in his cell today, and no one would be the wiser. Perhaps someone would come and find him before this was all said and done, and he wouldn’t have to hear about it.

He tried to fight back those thoughts, the thoughts of a coward. Just because he wasn’t here didn’t mean that he should ignore it. He couldn't’ just wash his hands of the situation

He SHOULD get up and tell the guards what was going to happen and consequences be damned.

But another part of him, a secret dark part of him….. Refused to bring himself to do it. That man knew what he did. He had made the decisions that brought him here, he had done something unforgivable and disgusting, and now he deserved to get what was coming to him, it was only fair after all the things he had done. It wasn’t Adam’s responsibility to go out of his way to help a man who deserved nothing better than death. In fact, death was to easy of a punishment in his opinion.

There were just some things that were unforgivable.

He felt, rather than saw when the man entered. He sensed it on the tensing of the air. Even the Drev had chosen to make themselves scarce retreating to their cells or the catwalks high above to watch what was about to happen. It seemed as if only the guards didn’t know. Or perhaps they did, and they didn’t care.

He sat hunched over his trey praying, and felt his heart tighten when a shadow darkened the seat across from him.

He couldn’t bare to look up.

“Good morning, Commander. I missed your company this morning.” The sound of the man’s voice made his skin crawl. His heart began to race and he felt a sudden overwhelming burst of white hot hatred. The feeling scared him, and he tried his best to choke it down, but it wouldn’t go. Sensing the man there, hearing his sniveling voice and thinking about the times they had made contact with each other. Handing over a card or even shaking hands.

It made him sick, and angry.

He made no noise.

“Is everything alright.” The man wondered.

Another shadow crossed over his back. He could feel them gathering behind him. The man before him went silent head tilted back to look upwards at the looming figures beginning to gather around the table.

A hand landed on the Commander’s shoulder, “Steel…. This…. A friend of yours.” the voice was cold and hard.

There was a long silence.

“I don’t want any trouble.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezed, “Steel.”

Commander Vir lifted his eyes from the table, making contact with the pleading expression of the man across the table. His watery grey eyes, his unassuming appearance, his receding mousy hairline. He looked like your average middle-aged man…. No, he was a monster wearing the skin of an average middle aged man.

Commander Vir felt as if he was watching himself in third person over his own shoulder. The boyish, wide eyed, honorable side of him was violently beaten down and dragged into a closet as something worse appeared materialized from the darkness in his head. The natural man took the controls cold and hard empty emotionless a creature of self satisfaction, the Id, the part of him that wanted nothing more than immediate reward, sadistic, hateful, envious, and carnal.

It had no mercy.

And it was as if from the opposite side of the glass he heard himself say.

“No….. he’s no friend of mine.”

And like his words had been the damn that held back hell, the hounds were released, and a moment later the room was filled with the uproar of screaming voices and cries of horrific animalistic agony.

Adam was pushed to the side, and the table at which he sat was overturned as a riot of men threw themselves past him. He hit the floor and rolled to the side coming to land in a crouch just to the right of the overturned table. The room echoed and clattered.

Screams of absolute agony cut through the air. Sirens blared red and bloody painting the walls in a hellish light.

Something cracked.

Screaming.

He crouches watching a writing mass of bodies, a horrific amalgamation of man’s worst instincts piled together in a many legged many armed creatures. Hands raised and plunged downwards violently, repeatedly. Blood painted the floor like a Jackson Pollock painting done in red. The screaming grew until it was no longer human, a guttural animalistic wale that rent the very air around them.

They were tearing him apart.

Adam felt the corner of his mouth twist in grim satisfaction, and then immediately snapped back to reality choked with disgust and horror. Rooted to the spot doing NOTHING watching a man being murdered before his eyes, and yet...

In the midst of it all, he couldn’t bring himself to intervene.

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder shoving him forward, “GET IN THERE.” The boss growled hand coming away covered in blood. A small part of himself, that animal from earlier snarled at the door to his cage.

A part of him wanted more than anything to join in.

Watched in satisfaction as he got what was coming to him. He relished the poetic justice of it all, while at the same time feeling disgust at himself. The world around him seemed to flow in slow motion. Small droplets of blood leaped into the air where they caught the light before falling back to earth. Something else cracked.

He felt his heart jumped with a sick excitement.

“No.” he whispered

The world lost all sound. The screaming faded and died. The boss cut around to look down at him, “What.”

“I said, no.” he whispered again.

A body skidded past them on the floor ragged, torn.

Eyes narrowed, anger flared in the depth of two black pupils. He rose in Adam’s vision, “You would side with the FREAK!” “I side with NO ONE .” Adam spat.

The man stared at him, a once, predatory friendliness turned to ice, “You will wish you had never been born.” but he had more immediate matters to attend to, turning and joining the climax of the fight. Adam remained rooted to the spot sick horrified as bone snapped, and the body went silent and limp.

They didn’t stop there….. They kept going on and on and on as Commander Vir stood on and watched. The tables had all been overturned, blood painted the floor in wide arcs. And there he stood doing nothing, neither joining or helping. Holding back like a coward, like some kind of sadistic animal looking on like an unfeeling king watches an execution, watches men women and children hang from a rope. The men pulled away from the bloody husk twisted and broken on the ground, and at that moment Adam Vir was hit with a sense of horror and self loathing he couldn’t have comprehended even ten minutes before. The bloodied corpse grew up in his vision until it filled his head, dead staring eyes boring into his soul, a snapshot that would remain with him forever.

A man he had condemned to death with his actions and his words.

He was a sick twisted bastard.

And he had allowed a man to die…. Had encouraged it with his innaction, had wanted it. And deep down, he had relished it in a deep sick part of his mind he felt no remorse.

He was glad the sick fuck was gone.

Perhaps that’s why he stayed, he could have run knowing what was coming, but he didn’t deserve to run. He didn’t deserve to fight back. He didn’t even close his eyes as the circle closed in around him, men covered in blood like a pack of hyenas feeding on carrion returning to finish off a wounded prey animal.

The boss stopped a few feet in front of him, body painted with the world’s most horrific body paint, “Now that we’ve gotten rid of one sick fuck, we now have to get rid of the sympathizers.”

He saw the first coming, could have dodged…. But he didn’t.

HE was hauled to his feet by smiley jerked off his feet by the front of his jumpsuit. Hoisted into the air so that his toes were dangling inches from the ground. Lights grew up in his eyes as he stared upwards watching the balconies and the surrounding Drev staring down at him like the council at his trial their expressions uncaring…. Even pleased.

“You had your orders.” The man spat. “And you stood there like a coward.”

Adam locked eyes with the man, “You;re right.” He said simply

The first punch was a kidney shot and had him on the ground writhing in agony within the first few seconds. It was hard to remember what happened next. The boot to the face, kicked in the side, the chest ribs. He was punched in the head, it was all a blur of faces all anger and malice. People who had once considered him a friend now drove their bodies against him in a frenzy that painted his blood across the floor with that of a deadman.

The latch to his prosthetic snapped. Metal was ripped away from his body.

He screamed once, was kicked in the stomach and choked on his own missing air. But he didn’t fight them, he didn’t deserve to fight them.

He curled up into a ball forearms covering his face and despite the pain and the agony, he refused to pass out. He didn't deserve that. Inside his head visions of that bloody…. Thing repeated over and over and over again

Voices swelled up around him, yelling and barking. Men cried out in pain, and with one last kick to his thigh, he was left lying in a pool of his own blood face resting against the cold concrete/ Voices rose above him, grabbing him about the arms and dragging him away. He heard the voices of the guards, watched the lights overhead pass over him in sharp streaks. Something warm trickled down the side of his face. Spilled onto the floor to be smeared into the concrete.

A door opened, and he was thrown inside.

A concrete room with no windows, a steel door, no bed and a hole in the far corner.

In tremendous pain, the man pulled himself sitting back on his knees and stared down at his hands covered in congealing blood once steady. As he watched they began to shake uncontrollably. He hunched forward hands to his chest face contorted into an expression of pain, and agony, not from the wounds, ot from the pain, but from the realization of what he had done.

A sob escaped him, and he didn’t try to fight it. His body ached with horrific pain with every racking sob. Tears tracked pathways through the blood on his face and fell to the ground a delicate pink.

What had he done?

He had sat there, and he had watched a man brutally murdered. And he had done nothing about it….. A part of him had even enjoyed it.

He watched in turmoil as the picture he had crafted of himself shattered into a million pieces and cascaded around him to the floor. The upstanding, moral man who always did what he knew was right, who was taught by loving parents to take the high road, who modeled himself after superheroes, action heroes, and his own idols. Someone who protected the innocent, upheld the weak and righted the unjust…. Was nothing more than a paper man.

A sham.

A fake.

A lie.

He sobbed into his hands which morphed into screams with the sobs were no longer enough to express his self loathing. What kind of man was he, couldn't even stand by his actions once they were made weeping like a pathetic child.

He lay, cold on the floor for hours and hours staring at the far wall listening to the distant echoes of the prison. As he calmed he took stock of himself swept up the pieces so that he was all together despite being broken.

Though he wished it had never happened, he could change nothing now. He had done what he had done. The ends didn’t justify the means, and just because he hadn’t done anything didn’t mean blood wasn’t on his hands. How could he know what was right do you save a monster because it's morally right, or stand by and watch a monster die because that’s what it really deserves. What gave him the right to make that decision.

He lay there for what must have been hours but could have been days his skin growing sticky and then crusted with drying blood. The door to his cell opened, “Get up.” When he couldn’t do it on his own, he was hauled to his feet by one of the guards. Together they walked, and hopped, back down the halls and onto the yard. The entire room was quiet as they stared at him.

He couldn't have cared less that they could see him in such a sorry state, what did it matter now. The paper man had crumbled, they might as well see it. He was left sagging on one leg in the center of the room, and he didn’t bother to move. The men got to their feet glowering down at him with a mixture of expressions. Time moved around him as if at double speed

A figure scuttled towards him from the darkness, and to his surprise, krill took his hand.

He had never done anything like that before.

He looked down.

And the alien looked up at him, though he said nothing.

The room grew tighter, men approached from all sides, “Krill, you should go.” His slurred through swollen, painful lips.

“No Commander.” krill responded

The guard withdrew, and the room shifted forward. This time he did close his eyes. It was one thing to see another man die, but to watch Krill caught up in this was to much. He tried to urge the little alien away once more, but he refused, wrapping his spidery arms around his human friend all too sure that he was going to die here.

But if that was the case, he would not let his human die alone and suffering.

Adam leaned his head against Krill eyes tight shut.

“It’s going to be ok.” The alien muttered

Adam felt a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.How very human….

Empty platitudes.

The little alien had learned a lot.

A shadow cut past them. He lowered his head.

And the room was split in half by a Drev battle cry so powerful that it rattled the walls and the floors. The man above them staggered back hands over his ears. The catwalks clattered, and the ground shook. Adam opened his eyes lifting them towards the sky, not expecting to find an angel, but getting one in bright blue.

Sunny stood on the catwalk above face contorted with a livid anger that cowed guards, drev and humans alike, “WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE.” She snarled at the human standing next to her, turning and shoving Drev two to three feet taller than her out of the way with the ease a bowling ball goes through pins.

The human scampered after her, “We… we had no idea.”

Sunny rounded on here, “DID YOU EVEN BOTHER TO FIND OUT.” Behind her, a member of the UN and the chairwoman of the GA stepped through the doors faces shocked and appalled as they looked about the room and the conditions in which the prisoners were being kept.

Sunny came to to toe with the leader of the Drev yard. At first the large female didn’t move, but a single look from sunny cowed her into groveling submission as sunny shoved past and marched down the stairs. She nearly body checked one of the prisoners over the railing and onto the floor fifteen feet beneath when he did not move fast enough.

Leaving the Chairwoman and the representative above, Sunny raced across the floor and skidding to kneel at Adam’s side. He lifted his head to look at her dried blood cracking against the movement.

A look of pain crossed her face, and a single hand gently cupped the side of his face tilting it this way and that, “Oh Adam, what have they done.” She whispered

The light above him grew very very bright filling his vision with light, “I’m a paper man,” He whispered, but that was all he could say body slumping into her arms. A murmur grew up around the room.

Sunny hugged the human against her chest.

“Commander!.” Two voices from above, and two marines came leaping down the stairs heedless of their uniforms.. Ramirez and the short, blond hair female marine ‘Maverick’.

“The hell did they do to you.” The Maverick snarled glowering at the other prisoners standing quietly back in a wide circle.

Their discussion was interrupted as the warden stepped onto the catwalk, ‘I DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHO YOU ARE; YOU HAVE NO JURISDICTION HERE!” “THE HELL WE DON’T.” The UN rep snapped, “By GA law, any HUMAN allowed off earth or mars remains under the jurisdiction of the UNSC in accordance with the first intercelestial peace accord put forth by the GA in 4018. Furthermore all Tesraki Drev and Rundi subjects are bound by GA bylaw, so YES we have jurisdiction, and we have allowed this to continue long enough. FURTHERMORE.” he said speaking up over the protests of the warden, “You have violated at LEAST 50 intergalactic bylaws, and amendments. What is this 2001, we know what humanity is by now AT LEAST. Not to mention that we show up here and find one of our Commanding officers kneeling in a pool of his own blood, only to learn that you didn’t even bother to verify his identity.”

“He had no prints in the system.” The man snarled

“ONE PHONE CALL. JUST ONE PHONE CALL. And that is not even TOUCHING on his right to counsel, or a fair trial. We don’t just THROW people in prison based on circumstantial evidence. He was sent here to get down to the problem of intergalactic hormone trade only to be beaten half to death by men no better than animals in a prison, the likes of which we haven't seen since the late 2000s. You sir are a DISGRACE to the ENTIRE HUMAN RACE.” Commander Vir was only half listening idly staring at the lights as someone wiped blood from his face.

“Get him up.”

Someone ducked under one of his arms and he was hauled to his feet. He tried his best to keep one leg under him, but was finding he wasn’t a great amount of help. Maverick supported his one side, while sunny took the other. Ramirez, based on a look, made it very clear what would happen if any of them tried anything grabbing krill by the hand and pulling him along.

It all felt like a dream as the steel catwalk passed below him, and the doors slid open. The prison faded behind him into a maze of hallways.

He was out, he was free.

…. He was finally……

Free.

401 notes · View notes

jxdedfeelings · 4 years

Note

"Have you seen what the mind is capable of with just a little push?" With whoever you want -River

“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” Polished shoes cross the corridor, pick up in pace whilst the other male pitter-patters beside him. Fingers move fluidly, forming silent words. Appreciative as always, Henrik picks up on it and nods. “It’s been a while since your last check-up.” The one topped with a bowler hat looks at him curiously. He supposes he hadn’t really thought about it. His health was in perfect condition, right? No ailments had come his way, nor did his strength dwindle. He hadn’t experienced a cold for as long as he could remember.

Henrik seems to catch on as they enter the allocated room; door decored with his studious accomplishments. He guides his patient to the seats beside his desk, waits until Jameson’s seated comfortably before he moves to his own station. A fiddle with the mouse has his screen beaming to life and with some browsing and clicks, he pulls up the file ‘Jameson Jackson’. Henrik murmurs under his breath as he scans the past results, conditions, skims over the historical record. He grows silent for a second and Jameson twiddles with his thumbs.

“There’s no rush, my friend. You are the last patient. It is just you and I now, no one to interfere.” He shoots a rare but reassuring smile. Jameson nods and readjusts to the scene, composes with his own small smile. Henrik takes it as a sign to get back to the examination, and so he scrolls for a short time. A few crosses later and he’s pushing back from his desk, letting the roll of the wheels echo out before he extends a hand to retrieve the box of gloves at his left. If Henrik had a mantle, it would be for hygiene.

With them now on, he wriggles his digits, stretches out the material. Having the stethoscope still around the column of his neck, the doctor faces back to the one waiting. He gestures for Jameson to move to the bed in the corner and follows suit as the dapper rises. Jameson knows what to do, he’s done this charade before. He recalls the time Chase had stolen Henrik’s medical equipment, attempted poorly to use it and concluded Jameson had no heartbeat. An angry doctor and a smack to the back of his head followed. Jameson had never laughed so hard.

The metal presses to his chest. Henrik’s not saying a word and the male can’t read the expression on his face, can’t gather if he’s satisfied that Jameson had already sucked in before he’d requested him to do so. It’s placed on his back then, staying for the same interval as the front. “Lift your shirt please.” Fingers curl up the fabric. He’s thankful that his outfit is loose enough to scrunch up. Perhaps the doctor is too.

Jameson watches with wide blues as Henrik brings the instrument back around his neck. “All in order. Good, good.” He nods with his words as if to reaffirm his thoughts. Jameson’s relieved, though he’s unsure why he was nervous at all. He’d known he was in tip-top condition. He dismisses it and waits for the next procedure.

The popsicle he expects, but Henrik’s instead ruffling through the drawers, collecting a device he’s never seen before. He’s a tad nervous now, but it has been a while, maybe this is an update to the equipment?

The German bustles as he brings out a few items, lays them on a tray and wheels it over. “Lie down please.” Jameson’s arching a brow now. Since when had he needed to…? Henrik’s cutting off his train of thought with another smile. “Ah, this is a new addition to the usual exam. Nothing to fret over. Now please, lie down for me, hm?” A hesitant nod and a lowering of his body has Jameson prepared to Henrik’s liking, evident by the hum of approval.

There’s a rip of material being unbuckled and pulled through the loop that the male notices. Henrik’s calm, loosening the restraints. “A precaution, nothing to be worried about. Trust me. The new procedure has had various responses from patients. It’s extreme but we mustn’t risk it, yes?” Jameson delays his reaction, but then he’s nodding slowly. “I was against it too, dear friend.” He’s guiding a hand to the binds, strapping it in then repeating his steps on the other. “It will only take a few minutes, I promise.” There’s another flashed smile. Like clockwork, Jameson’s wearing one too.

A flick of his lab coat has Henrik turning. Hands rove over his selection and as instructed, he plucks the item. Another is fetched in his hand and he locks eyes with his patient. “I need you to open your eyes.” Widened ceruleans respond and Henrik leans down, revealing one of the collected implements to assist his procedure. Jameson irks as the speculum is fitted. Henrik doesn’t utter a word as he fiddles with it, ensures it’s secure and snug. It’s then that his other tool is unveiled and fear courses through the other’s veins.

A rattle at the restraints is the only noise that’s made when Henrik begins. Horror is spread across Jameson’s face. A look that screams agony. The ice pick is only just drilling through the socket when he decides to show up. Hands caress the lab coat, trails up his arm and rests at his shoulder. With his other darting pupil, the dapper spies the grin. Spies who it belongs to.

“H̷av͢e̕ ̕y̛o҉u̕ ͟śe̵en w̕hat͞ the m͜in̶d͡ ̢is̨ capa͠ble o̸f ͜with͡ ͞j̸ust a ͢li̕ttl̨e p͜ush?̀”

Aside from the hit of the pick, another noise shatters the room. It sounds more like distortion than a voice.

“I di̛dn̨’t ̷a͝pp̛r̨e͟ciate ̷tha͠t̕ li͟tt̕l̶e ͘s҉tưnt̵ ͟of ̨y̷o̷urs̡ ba͜c̕k t̶h̕ere̕.”

Jameson’s too fixed on crying bloody murder to reply. Henrik hammers. Splits the first layer. Bang.

“So͡,̧ Ì'̀ve̴ ̢had̛ Henrìk͢ ͟h͢e̢r͡e, ǫur ̡v̕er̢y g̡ene̸rous docto͢r̸,͠ ͠t̷a̶ke c͟ar͘e o̡f͝ yo͞u̧ f̕or ̨me̴.”

Hands brushed down his arms again, feather-light in his touch as he practically phases through the doctor at work.

“I͜t̵'s̸ a͜máz̀ìn͜g҉ w͠h͏a͠t a͏ l͠i̕ttl̛ȩ ́twe͏akįn̨g̢ ͟ca̴n do̕.”

A giggle reverberates, grates against his ears. He can feel the metal drive into him and as expected his hands are trembling, disjointed with each knock that Henrik gifts the pick. Gifts Jameson with an induced seizure.

“Díd̨n͝'t҉ thin̢k ́I̷'͢d͡ c͜atch on̸to͜ ̨t͝haţ ̕s͢m͘al͟l͟ c̀ŕy̢ ̡f̨o͜r he͜l͏p,͠ ̡did̀ ̴yo͡u?”

He’s going limp as Henrik now twists the device, moves it around and explores other regions of the brain.

“Le҉t͢'s͜ ̷ma͠ķe sur҉e th͡at̕ never̛ h̨a͟p͡pe͘ńs̴ a͜gain.”

He’s drilling it deeper and deeper, leaving Jameson with a plastered expression and dry tears. Unresponsive now, Anti smiles and leads the doctor’s hand away. Yanks the instrument out harshly. discards it to the tray, slick with fluids. He’s free to relish in the sight that is the dapper twitching. It brings a joyful glint to the glitch’s eyes.

A glance to the side has another smirk riding across. There’s the culprit. With a flick, it ticks away at its slow beat. Mechanical. Repetitive.

Henrik’s already undoing the straps around Jameson’s wrists that glare at them, bitten red. Anti clasps his hands then returns to the pair. He marvels at his handiwork, admires his choice of punishment.

He lifts the mute’s arm, shakes it from side to side with pure mockery and giggles as he releases it, witnesses it flopping back. That’s one issue taken care of. Although he’s out now, Jameson will wake eventually and a lobotomy won’t be fatal. No, no. He has plans for this specific puppet.

Jameson always did like listening to the clock. A ticking metronome should do the trick.

After all, it had worked on Henrik.

Tag List: @antis-gauge, @coffee-bean-boi, @miishae, @n-anon, @10th-no-name-person, @pumpkin-demon, @egopocalypse, @immabethehero, @mmmirkabat

#jacksepticeye #jse #antisepticeye #schneeplestein #jameson jackson #my writing #tw: gore #oh man i was gonna prioritise hypnosis but i got an idea #oops #Anonymous

40 notes · View notes

wincestbigbang · 4 years

Text

2019 Master Post

Title: Invisible Touch Author: ellerkay Artist: blindswandive Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Sibling incest, first time, mind control, mind control aftermath and recovery, mind rape, blow jobs, anal sex, kissing, making out, hand jobs, telepathy, guilt, shame, emotional hurt/comfort, barebacking Summary: A witch with mind control powers makes Sam and Dean have sex with each other for the first time, forcing them to confront their desire for one other. Afterwards, they find their way back to intimacy and to healing. Art: Live Journal Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: Undertow Author: laughablelament Artist: Nisaki (a.k.a. swan_song21) Rating: NC-17 Warning/Spoilers: non-graphic suicide attempt Summary: A not-so-brotherly riff on The Little Mermaid. “And the Broken Hearts, men without country, without family, are transfixed and transformed by the Song. But all is not lost. For the Love of a Mortal can melt the Mer Heart, and thus restore the Human Form.” -the lore Art: Live Journal | Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: Suits Author: twoboys2love Artist: leaf_zelindor Rating: PG-13 Warnings/Spoilers: important spoilers from season 1 to season 10 (If you haven't watched) Summary: Suits the boys have worn over the years... and the feelings they inspired. Art: Live Journal Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: Kale or Nada Author: smalltrolven Artist: tx_devilorangel Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for episode 14.13. Summary: A coda to episode 14.13 “Lebanon” set in the AU from the epic 300th episode. Sam is an ultra-rich internet-famous tech corporate lawyer that sends the best criminal defense lawyer in the country to get Dean out of his jam with the FBI. Within a few days of being released from FBI custody (with an apology!), Dean is sitting in the living room of Sam’s Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: Slipping Through the Minutes Author: sci_fis Artist: emmatheslayer Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: N/A Summary: Omega Sam (16) and Alpha Dean have been in a relationship for a couple of years, but Dean refuses to mate with Sam until he turns 18, insisting that Sam should be old enough to give informed consent first. But when young unmated omegas start going missing, things may change. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: Playtime Author: jdl71 Artist: cherie_morte Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Dark Fiction, Blood, Sibling Incest, Murder, Violence, Kidnapping, Torture, Bottom Sam, Top Dean. Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester have embraced their dark desires for each other and for killing not just the supernatural. They travel, looking for a new toy for Sam to play with and something for Dean to hunt. They enjoy hearing the screams of those they hunt; Sam loves to see their blood drip from his knife while Dean enjoys the thrill of the hunt. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: After the End of Everything Author: amypond45 Artist: amberdreams Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: None Summary: Michael won. He took the world down, then opened a portal to another universe and moved on, leaving Sam and Dean to pick up the pieces. After his possession, Dean is a burned-out shell with no conscious memory of anything that happened during his time as Michael’s vessel. Sam takes his broken brother on the road, and together they make their way home, hoping to find others who made it through the End of Days, hoping to find a way back to each other. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: All My Loves Author: ncdover/ncdover1285 Artist: sandy79 Other Pairing(if applicable): Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, Dean/Lisa, Sam/Jess (mostly mentioned) Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Major Character Death, Underage Summary: They say that we fall in love with three people over our lifetime, each one for a specific reason. Each person that we fall in love with is something that we are seeking at that particular time in our lives. Dean has been falling for Sammy in many different ways over the years, for as long as he can remember. How could he possibly have three loves? So he sits down to think it through and decides that while he may have had three loves in his life, he has never stopped loving his Sammy, and never will. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Love, Lies, & Lap Dances Author: wicked-wincest-writer / cleighwrites Artist: bluefire986 Other Pairing (if applicable): Sam/Jess, Dean & clients (mentioned/background) Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Angst, hypothermia, mentions of prostitution, frottage, anal sex, incest (duh!), slowest of burns Summary: Sam was a freshman at Stanford who had no idea how his big brother was paying for him to live off-campus. Dean was a part-time escort and a full-time liar. How will Sam react when he finds out exactly how Dean has been paying for everything since they left their dad behind? Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Tumblr | Ao3 Title: Dead Hearts Author: raving_liberal Artist: kuwlshadow Rating: R Warnings/Spoilers: Body/Medical Horror, Blood and Gore, Blood Kind (Kinda), Canon-Typical Violence, spoilers for Season 02 Summary: A gory vision sends Sam and Dean to New York to investigate a series of bizarre murder-suicides among organ transplant recipients. They soon find themselves racing the clock to save a kidnapped girl before she becomes the next victim. Nightmares and the memory of Dean’s heartsblood on his lips haunt Sam through an investigation that puts the brothers on the trail of an ancient Norse legend. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Catch the Wind Author: sarasaurusrex Artist: bluefire986 Other Pairing(if applicable): Castiel/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Mostly Wincest, Wincestiel at the end, teencest, Flashbacks, Time Travel, Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Young Sam Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Butterfly Effect, Choices, Changing the past, OC Villains, Guilt, Castiel Does What Castiel Wants (Supernatural), Threesome - M/M/M, wound care, Making Out, Don't Wake Dad, Healing Sex Summary: When a rogue angel Castiel once spared begins murdering angels on the West Coast, Sam and Dean help Castiel hunt the angel down once and for all. Along the way they find themselves in a place they stayed in as teenagers. It brings back memories of Sam’s 16th birthday, when he was being hunted by a delusional friend of John's who was determined to stop the next King of Hell. Unbeknownst to Sam, Dean, or Castiel, the past and present are inexplicably intertwined, and sparing the angel in the past has unfathomable consequences for Sam and Dean's future. Fate, chance, and redemption must all be confronted for the trio to move on. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: There Goes the Neighborhood Author: amusawale Artist: tx_devilorangel Other Pairing(if applicable): Sam/Jessica Rating: PG-13 Warnings/Spoilers: Slow burn, canon compliant wincest, pre-series AU Summary: Dean didn't get to collect Sam from Stanford. They never took to the road together. Sam went on to be a lawyer and Dean did his hunting thing. But now Sam wants to run for mayor and he needs to scrub his record of this annoying brother who is a stain on his impeccable record. He meets with Dean, and asks him to "kill himself" so that Sam can be free of him. Dean agrees. Sam is dissatisfied now. Why does his brother find it so easy to let him go? (which, really, hypocrite much?" - the author says as an aside) Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Love the Sinner: Embrace the Sin Author: paperann Artist: 2blueshoes Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Explicit Sexual Content, Dark Themes Summary: While Sam and Dean were raised as hunters, it was their choice to continue the fight against evil—their duty to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. Time and time again, they’d save the world, fight the monsters, but in truth: Destiny doomed the Winchesters from the start. Why else was Sam born as Lucifer’s true vessel, spiraling into a demon blood addiction so easily and spectacularly—unless an inherent darkness resided inside him all along? How could Dean wield the Mark of Cain, only passed down through biblical blood and honed by those few deemed ‘worthy'—unless he wasn’t a natural-born sadistic killer? In a sad twist of irony, the Winchesters were always fated to be monsters, no matter how they tried to even the scales. Aboard a sinking ship, they chose insanity—Dean scraping together broken parts to stay afloat while Sam kept thinking love conquers all—maybe it was time to let go, to drown. Giving in didn’t necessarily mean giving up. Even if it hurt, there could be another life waiting for them. Together. Anything was better than being trapped in this cycle—whether it was cowardice or courage it didn’t matter—someone had to break it, before it broke them. Art: Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: For The Love Of Chuck (Or Not) Author: runedgirl Artist: a_biting_smile Rating: NC-17 Summary: After Chuck’s revelation, Sam becomes hopeless enough to want to give up on life itself, so Dean knows he has to take drastic action. What can they do that Chuck would hate enough to give up on his “favorite show” and let the Winchesters make their own choices again? Warning/Spoilers: Takes place directly after the Season 14 finale. Castiel appears as a side character, no romantic undertones. Art: Live Journal Story: Live Journal Title: A Map Without Landmarks is Useless Author: Zee487 Artist: An Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Major Character Death, Suicide Attempt, Violence Summary: When Sam is born, John props Dean’s elbow up on a pillow, carefully places the tiny wrinkled bundle into Dean’s arms, and tells Dean, “This is Sam. He’s your brother. You gotta watch out for him.” Dean looks at his brother’s big, clear eyes looking back at him and feels Sam’s tiny hand wrap around his finger and falls head over heels in love. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3

#wincest big bang #wincest big bang 2019 #master post

53 notes · View notes

lgbtqueeries · 4 years

Text

A School Project as an Ode to Larry Kramer --32 Million and Counting

TLDR; This speech was a project for a Queer Studies class that I participated in. It is a speech in the form of Larry Kramer’s speech about AIDS activism in 1983 called “1,112 and Counting” I also wanted to bring into awareness what has changed in the 37 years since his original speech. The audience is meant to be the queer community, just like his was, but also to be open to those that would listen. Due to its nature, it encompasses public health, politics, humanity, and activism. I didn’t intend for this to be the case but as the project progressed we were diagnosed to be going through a pandemic much like that of what those in the 80s experienced. To this degree, I didn’t mean to scare but frustrate the reader, much like Larry Kramer. I wanted my speech to be uniquely mine, but be reminiscent of the effect that he garnered. I plan to post this to my Tumblrs LGBTQueeries and the-unending-kerfuffle as well as my Instagram @one_steph_from_death. I want to place this speech out into the world. Please feel free to reblog and share and comment and chat with me in the comments!

Larry Kramer started his count when the number was 1,112 and counting. In 1983. Think about that again. In 1983. Thirty-seven years ago. He screamed for help then, knowing full well we’d be obliterated as a group unless we stood up. He refused to be forced to die.

To frame this, a former entertainment star had been elected to the most powerful political seat in government. His staunch political and religious opinions led to the death of innocent people. He could have saved them by using his voice and asserting a need for research, laws, and education, but instead, let them die impoverished and discriminated against. If the hate and violent crimes didn’t get them, the sickness creeping in would.

Worst of all, as a community, we knew that he didn’t speak for us. We knew that this hate would kill us, yet we still remain silent. We remained silent as the hate trickled into the deepest pores of our community. We let the hate fester, building up and attaching to the difference among us until it finally separated us and dismantled us. We let the bigotry we so desperately try to run from infiltrate our ranks and break us apart into factions.

They were treated like lepers and untouchables (Barker & Cran, 2006). Hospital workers were nearly absent, just present enough to not be liable for neglect. Visitors were few and gay lovers, if they stayed, were sent away. Imagine that, slipping away in pain as you lose your vision and ability to breathe, your body starts deteriorating as it is filled with cancer and opportunistic infections. Alone. All alone.

And when you (inevitably) died your casket wasn’t lined in silk with cushions and roses. Yours was lined with plastic and biohazard material. Your brittle, thin body was crumpled up in the discarded sheets and hospital gowns and thrown into a garbage bag. No one was going to claim you, so no point in going to the morgue. Your toes, if you still had them, weren’t tagged, just set aside with all your other hospital belongings.

But the pain didn’t end there. Like the weekly garbage men, bags were taken to empty spaces and distributed into large, unmarked graves (Kilgannon. 2018). A secluded hole lost to history. A supposed bygone of the middle ages, but here to dispose of Jane and John Does.

If I was to scream like Larry Kramer, to these separated groups, I’d go hoarse within hours. As of 2018, 35 years after his speech, we have lost 32 million people to HIV/AIDS (CDC, 2020). That doesn’t include the people from the last 2 years.

We lost 32 million innocent people.

Yes, we lost gay men and IV drug users but they are still human. They still had the same dreams and aspirations as everyone else. They could have lived to be designers and playwrights just as well as becoming doctors and lawyers. We lost everyone one from, every walk of life. We lost painters, poets, magicians, musicians, surgeons, dentists, lawyers, physicians, firefighters, police officers, farmers, framers, parents, children. Their blood is on the hands of those that slowly took the life from them. The government is not free from their crimes.

But honestly, that’s not where the frustration and anger ends. Our history is being erased. Purposefully and eagerly. This situation that I’ve laid before your eyes seems to be that of 1983 and the pain of Ronald Reagan. The horror sounds painfully identical to what we deal with today.

Our current administration has continued some of these misinformed ideas and hateful actions. The Ryan White Fund, a fund specifically created to create a money source for HIV/AIDS research and treatment have received cutbacks and other plans set in motion like PEPFAR aren’t fairing well either. They are better in this term than in the past, but frankly, that’s not too comforting. This fund was the lifeblood for many organizations and they soon will be bled dry (Forsyth, n.d.). This does not take into account the other actions towards queer people in general. This takes into account only one facet of the government that is working against us. What about the judicial branch and the possibility to be tried for attempted murder for not disclosing your status to your partner (CDC, 2019)? It’s not like you have to do the same for other STIs. “On the count of giving chlamydia to your partner without disclosing your last date of testing, how does the jury find the defendant?” This doesn’t take into account the possibility you didn’t know of your own status.

And what if you wished to give blood? Say you’re gay and we’ll even go so far as saying you’re HIV-. They’d turn you away. They’d send you back for 12 months for not being able to prove you didn’t have sex with your male partner for 12+ months. May I remind you that lesbians and heterosexual men and women have gotten HIV and therefore can pass it along? This is possibly a law of Reagan’s 80s, but it’s still in effect TODAY (“LGBTQ Donors”, n.d.).

But I digress. The government is still not free from their crimes and institutionalized hate. I don’t wish to get too political but it is inevitable with the fact we’re all stuck in the past. Again, it’s not where my frustration lies.

My frustration is formed in the same disappointment that Larry Kramer had. In 37 years not much has changed and that the voice that we have as a community. We gained it with protests through organizations like ACT UP but we’ve apparently been diagnosed with laryngitis because we’ve become oddly silent. HIV/AIDS is not a disease of history. We haven’t cured the earth of this disease. It’s here and stuck to us like your legs to a hot vinyl seat. It affects everyone and intersectionality can increase your risk (CDC, 2019). There’s a reason it’s no longer called “Gay Related Immune Disease”. Yet where the hell are we?

It affects the young and the old. Yet we remain silent, pretending it’s not occurring.

We can blame it on the straight, cis majority but we are complicit in our own erasure, assimilation, and silencing.

We let our history fall by the wayside and be covered up with rainbows and pride flags used by businesses in marketing. We let our history be encapsulated by a month handed to us by the majority.

We let the atrocities that happened be forgotten along with many of the names.

We isolate those now that are HIV+ from queer-friendly functions, both blatantly and subtlely.

But most importantly we lost our gusto to fight for a better future for the generations that come after us. That’s what stings the most.

It’s important to remember that this disease is no longer a death sentence. You no longer have to feel the weight of shackles weighing you down towards the underworld. Provided, that is, you have insurance and can pay for your medications. But that is another government issue for another speech. With one pill a day, just like your Flintstones vitamins, you can live a normal life. You can date and with proper precautions, have sex and not pass it along to your partner. Undetectable = Untransmissable (UNAIDS, 2018).

While this may be a reality for us in our modern-day. I refuse to let those that sacrificed themselves for this cause be forgotten. We lost 32 million people and while I can’t list them all here or scream them to the heavens, I’ll damn well try. Those that came before us, despite their flaws, paved the way for us and I refuse to let them slip away because our government doesn’t like it. Join me in sharing the stories. If you want to see face to face, the humans that we lost, follow accounts like @theaidsmemorial on Instagram. End our silence. If it’s painful for you, imagine how it must feel for the friends and families of those that lost someone of the 32 million. They need your help to speak up.

We started this with 1,112 and counting. Now we’re at 32 million and counting. Let’s end the counting and start the protesting.

Works Cited

Barker, G., & Cran, W. (2006, May 30). Retrieved from https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/film/aids/

Centers for Disease Control. (2020, January 16). U.S. Statistics. Retrieved from https://www.hiv.gov/hiv-basics/overview/data-and-trends/statistics

Forsyth, A. D. (n.d.). Powerpoint presentation.

HIV and STD Criminal Laws. (2019, July 1). Retrieved from https://www.cdc.gov/hiv/policies/law/states/exposure.html

HIV by Group. (2019, October 25). Retrieved from https://www.cdc.gov/hiv/group/index.html

Kilgannon, C. (2018, July 3). Dead of AIDS and Forgotten in Potter's Field. Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com/2018/07/03/nyregion/hart-island-aids-new-york.html

LGBTQ Donors. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://www.redcrossblood.org/donate-blood/how-to-donate/eligibility-requirements/lgbtq-donors.html

UNAIDS Explainer. (2018). UNAIDS Explainer. Retrieved from https://www.unaids.org/sites/default/files/media_asset/undetectable-untransmittable_en.pdf

5 notes · View notes

ponyponypuddingandpie · 4 years

Text

Character Building; Vertigo

“I am what you have made me I am choice, and I am tyranny I am then and I am now What gods they will be. Then I am Evil, and I am flesh I am the trap, I am the trapped I am beauty and I am chaos Children are Selfish I am the worm And I have broken God“

Vertigo was once a devout member of the Church of the Sunlit Goddess, an outlying chapter of the Celestian church, living far out in western Equestria. She was loyal, and attended church every sunday, listened and believed the preaches of her pastor. She thoroughly believed that Celestia was the incarnation of the goddess of the sun, and that she would save those who were faithful when the end times arrived. She was also a part of the weather service in her town Woodford.

Vertigo lived with her mother. She didn’t know her father for a long time. They lived off of the money both made on the weather service, and also spent time growing vegetables in their little garden. Life was simple.

And then, everything went to hell in a hoofbasket. Her father returned, and beat her within an inch of her life, shattering one of her wings in the process. When she was taken to the doctor, she spent a month in a coma. She woke up missing a wing entirely. In order to save her life, they’d amputated the shattered wing. She was only 22 at the time. Her father had been arrested, and her testimony saw him put away for life.

But she could never do her job again. She could never fly again. A deep depression fell over her, and, whilst she did go home after another month in recovery, she never really recovered. She stayed home, looking after the house, and visited her church more and more often, praying for a miracle. Then, things got worse. Her mother, working herself double and triple shifts to pay for their needs, fell terribly ill. She was working herself literally to death.

In desperation, Vertigo went to her pastor, to beg for the help of the church. To beg him to help her pay her mother’s medical bills, to help keep them afloat, and alive. She would never forget his reply.

“The goddess has a plan for all of us. If your mother was meant to die here to protect your worthless hide, then your mother will die. It’s your responsibility to make it worth something, Vertigo.”

Lost, broken, and utterly alone, Vertigo did everything she could to try and pay for her mother’s medicine. She tried to work anywhere she could. At the tavern, the general store. She even offered her services to the doctor himself. But it just wasn’t enough. Her mother passed away, with her by her side, two months after falling ill. Without her faith, without her mother, and without her wings, Vertigo felt.... hopeless. Worthless. But after a time, that self loathing turned to hatred. Hatred towards her father. Hatred towards her pastor. And hatred towards their so called ‘Goddess’.

See, That was when the voices came. Whispering to her from the darkness. Offering her things from the depths of her mind. Promising her power. Promising to fix her. To make her whole again. As she buried the body of her mother, and planted a single rose bush over her, Vertigo promised herself she’d never let anyone hurt her like this again. She’d never be so powerless as to let someone hurt her. Not without being able to damn well hurt them back at the very least. The whispers in her mind continued. And, after eating the last carrot from the garden that night, and falling to sleep... it came to her in a dream.

It was... a creature of monstrous creation. Of titanic size, and made of copper, flesh and darkness, iron spines poking from its back and tusks jutting from its mouth. It floated through the void of her consciousness. It had no eyes. And it regarded her. It introduced itself as the worm, and promised her the power to seek vengeance on those who so cruelly shoved her aside. Power to rival a god, or a goddess. All it asked.... was for a sacrifice.

“Hurl them into my teeth, that their bones may clog my innards and stave my hunger. I am The Worm, and You will be my Voice.”

Vertigo, pushed by her own rage and need for vengeance, pledged herself to the entity then and there. And pledged her father’s blood as a sacrifice. The worm seemed satisfied with that, and she woke up. it was morning, but things were not as they seemed. She felt... powerful.

Rumours around town were that Vertigo’s father had broken free sometime in the night, and was hiding around in the area. That the constabulary were after him. But the whispers in her head... the whispers told her the truth. The Worm had sprung him from his prison, that Vertigo might feed him in offering to it. It even whispered to her where to go to find him, and how to make him the offering.

When she found him, he tried to taunt her. To tell her she made his goal easier. That he was going to come looking for her. To finish the job. To kill her. But Vertigo was ready. And, with guidance from The Worm, knocked her father out, bound him, and performed a grotesque ritual. Tattoos flowed over her right foreleg and, when they were finished, Vertigo felt power. Power beyond belief, as the twisting tentacled tattoos animated, turning into tiny, writhing versions of the entity itself. She heard it crow in hunger, and saw her father’s eyes open.

She let him see what was about to happen to him, and revelled in his screams of agony and horror as she sacrificed him to The Worm. The Wormlets consumed him. Flesh, Blood, Bone and all. She felt more power flowing into her as her pact with the entity was sealed. She and The Worm, forever bonded.

Naturally, her next target was her old church. And, more specifically, the pastor who had so cruelly turned her away. She didn’t wait for night or any of that foolishness, no.

She waited for Sunday.

And then, she strolled into the church, mid sermon. She heard him vaguely barking demands at her. About how dare she. That she was being heretical, interrupting the word of the goddess.

His words ceased, and were replaced by screams as, with a quick outreaching of her foreleg, the Worm’s power burst forth, Wormlets writhing from her leg and latching onto the pastor. The churchgoers bolted every which way. Pews were knocked over. The whole time, she glared at him in the eye as, slowly, the Wormlets started to feast.

“My mother did not deserve to die,” She told him calmly, enjoying his inability to scream as the pain drove him slowly closer to madness, “And you... you claim to be a good pony, but all you are is a greedy, pathetic poser in robes.”

As they consumed him, slowly, she heard the police burst into the church.

Survivors all have a different version of what happened that Sunday. But, the basics were this. The Church still stands today. And if you enter it, you’ll find the dessicated, rotting head of the Pastor on his lectern, and his entrails spread around the room like demented Hearth’s Warming decorations. And the town of Woodford was erased from existence. Where Vertigo went is unknown. But she is around still. There are rumours of a cult out west. The Cult of the Worm. It’s only small, but rumour is the leader is powerful. A pegasus with one wing. A one winged pegasus mare who can still fly, and can use magic.

Vertigo is an average sized mare, with a coat the colour of whipped cream, and feathers that fade into the blue of a sunny day’s sky. Her mane is short, a habit she kept from weather duties, and a mid length tail, both the light grey of overcast clouds, and eyes bluer than the ocean. And covered in a variety of tattoos. Down her forelegs, across her back (not on her wing, however). It’s unknown just how many she has, as she usually is seen wearing a dark hoodie, or so the reports claim.

#Character building #Vertigo #trigger warning #Assault #Illness #Religion #Warlock #Cult leader #mlp #The Worm

2 notes · View notes

nowimthevillain · 5 years

Text

Super long and fucked up dream but honestly it played out like an awesome movie (in my head)

For some reason I was having a retirement party? I’m not that old? But still this badass black chief of police guy came to my party we must have been friends or colleagues or something and he wished me a good party and a good thereafter... anyway...

So I was at like a school a couple of my work friends and for some reason Sam and dean from supernatural attended with me and we were just going to classes and stuff normal school til one day I heard rumours that people were disappearing without a trace but no one seemed bothered about it.

One day I heard a struggle in a broom closet and I went in to find someone in a human sized bag filled with transparent red liquid on a gourney he looked like he was drowning in the liquid so my instinct was too try and get him out but someone came and pushed me aside and shouted he’s fine and wheeled him away when I stood back up and looked for the person he was gone

I was in a class later that day and dean came to me and told me he couldn’t find Sam and that he thinks he had been kidnapped and I told him about the bag of red liquid, dean decided that he would get himself caught so he could find out what was going on from the inside, I told him he was insane and the last guy I saw looked like he was drowning and he told me he had to for Sam so we snooped around and found one of these bags, dean fell asleep first and then we activated the bag and it filled with the liquid, it didn’t look like he was drowning though which put me at ease somewhat.

The guy that came to pick up the first bag arrived me and another friend stopped him we asked him where they were going and why and who was doing all this he said he couldn’t say and he looked scared we sat and talked to him about other things to try and make friends with him but eventually he got up and took the bag with dean and another one away we tried to follow him but he ran

We ran down the corridors trying to follow, again no one else seemed to care or even notice we got to a stairwell that me and my one friend stopped in time but another (not noticing there was no railings) fell off the edge and fell down a floor or two and screamed in pain, we ran down the stairs to go help her I asked if she was ok and she said she was fine but her ankle was fucked up so I carried her to a nearby bench in what would have been a school playground type place we were sitting talking about what can we do people are being snatched and no one knows why or cares there were 3 celebritiy singers sat behind us on another bench for some reason (yeah this bit was weird) and they were just providing backing vocals for our conversation we we started singing with them a little bit for fun...

Anyway back to the story... I left my friend resting on the bench she said she would catch up when her ankle felt better I know I needed to find the guy that kidnaps the people! I searched for ages until I find him and talk to him a little I ask him don’t you think this is wrong why are you doing this and he ran from me again, I caught him and I said please I’m scared for these people even if you think this is just 10% wrong please I beg you you have to tell me what’s going on, the fear drained from his eyes and he looked determined, keeping eye contact with me he pulled the fire alarm and took me to the science department.

By this point I knew I needed information and the science department it were it would be, as I walked through the halls and classrooms students were getting leery throwing papers flipping desks one even smashed a fish tank, I walked into a specific class room, must have been where the guy left the kidnapped people some students had set a few small fires and trashed the room I walked through and felt like a complete bad bitch, somehow me walking with intent had drawn a crowd ready to help me deal with whatever was going on, I found some information in the back room of the classroom about a secret facility right here in the school I collected some heavy things like wrenches and other tools in a bag incase it got ugly and so we marched up to the front door

It was pure white to look at from the outside with a glass panel to see the inside of the lab but really all you could see was some machinery and blue and red lights, the sliding door was locked and next to several panels, there was an option for new recruits I had to press a button to get a pill that had instructions on how to insert a tracker under my skin I some how managed to avoid doing that but there was more to it there was another capsule that had a code in that I had to input on a screen but the screen was really slow and the numbers kept fucking up when I put them in, luckily it eventually accepted it I had to give my finger prints to the screen too and put in yet another code and answer some questions, a memeber of my crowd decided to give me a bro so we could play the “we are cleaners” role a notion that slightly confused and amused me, I however decided I would be scholarly and ask questions as to what was going on before getting down to business, when the door finally opened I had to step through into a disinfectant chamber but I held the door which allowed the rest of my group to enter behind me and brute force through the other door, they all split off in different directions as to let me do my thing, the scientist on the way in looked taken aback to see so many people but not concerned she put out her hand to take my bag stating they don’t allow them inside but I just continued to walk with intent and ignored her...

This is where is starts to get fucked up and gory so if you don’t like that stuff maybe stop reading

As I furthered Into the room I saw vats of a translucent brown/green liquid that had red dancing on the top in most cases there was surgical equipment and medical machines surrounding them, I walked to the first one and to my horror I saw what appeared to be some type of wild boars inside only they looked very much in pain, bits of flesh skin and muscle exposed tusks removed, I asked the scientist near by might you tell me what’s going on here? She told me that they were improving that animal, that this species was endangered and they were changing it to make it better but also to remove the poison glands it had, apparently this species of boar was capable of spitting acid and in knowing humans, the wretched things looked barely conscious there was one sitting on the floor that looked more ill than had ever seen any creature in my life, it squealed and lurched for me as I walked by, it scared me a fair bit but I moved on to the next tank.

A giraffe! A whole giraffe in a tank again it looked tranquilised and still in a lot of pain, flesh on its long neck exposed and weeping it almost made me cry how anyone could do such a thing to such a creature, I asked the scientist next to this tank what was going on but I was too numb to hear what she had said... that is until I notice what’s next, body parts

Human body parts in a giant iced cooling rack organs still pumping and convulsing but other things eyes, hands, feet even penis’

A short Indian woman approached me she appeared to be the head of the facility, “it’s quite an amazing collection wouldn’t you say” I told her it’s absolutely sick and vile she claimed there was no price to high for science, I look to the other side of the room and see people suspended in red liquid not unlike in the matrix, there are also dozens more tanks and pieces of human anatomy on show I see some human heads the the head scientist claims are models but I’m not so sure, I take a look at the other scientists in the room the vast majority are students at the school, I address the head scientist first followed by everyone else in the room, “how could you do this aren’t you disgusted by what you’ve done?” No one seemed particularly phased but I asked these people are your family and friends someone piped up to tell me the people they were experimenting on were nobodies, they didn’t know what the head scientist had orchestrated my group threw back a curtain and revealed the people they had stolen from the school some where shocked that they were in fact friends and family, as I was looking around to see the shocked and not so shocked faces I saw a large machine, it was throwing animals into it alive I asked what it was and o was told it was a harvester, the other side of the machine on a conveyer hearts, lungs, livers etc were being produced from the machine, I asked so you experement on animals then harvest them? I was told no the harvested animals are fresh and untampered with they then use the organs on the experimented animals to keep them alive, I was furious they were killing other animals to keep theirs experiments alive and in pain, I told the head she had to pay

She whipped out an extending stick and launched herself at Me I moved out the way and quickly collected a wrench from my bag, I kicked the bag over to my brother that had joined my group earlier so he could retreave a weapon, the other people in my group started to revolt and smash the lab up and some of the scientists fought back! The other scientists huddled around the edges of the room. Me and the head scientist got a few hits in on each other before I finally got her to the ground I used the wrench to hold her to the floor by her neck threatening to choke her to death if she tried anything I asked her questions how and why etc (I can’t actually remember what she said but I think it basically boiled down to money) and science is the greater good and there has to be sacrifices to advance, she somehow got free from me and was about to attack me again when the lights for the whole place went out and someone burst through the door and screamed get down in the ground! The silhouetted person was carrying a huge machete type blade, everyone hit the floor including me and the head scientist, though I heard my brother climb into a clean tank of water behind us, the head scientist was right infront of me, the silhouette shouted if anyone moves there are going to die, it shortly walked past me and I saw my chance, I kicked the head scientist Into the path of the silhouette and he struck her across the top of the head, the silhouetted man when to flip the switch on the breaker and turn the lights back on, when they came back on the head scientist was gone and the silhouetted man revealed to be the police chief guy from the bringing of the story he gave me his hand and pulled me up from the floor and asked it I was ok and told me they never would have found the place without my help

Some people were being arrested and some comforted, a lot of the scientists resented me because they were now out of a job but I just kept thinking how could the resent me for stopping this when they have been comiting such heinous deeds, the police chief called me over to the clean tank as my brother popped up and said is this an experiment should I put him out fo his misery and he aimed a gun and him and I said nooo wait that’s my brother the chief said fine and he got out shortly after another figure rose from the water! It was the head scientist bleeding profusely from the head wound, the chief said what about this one to which I said yeah out that one out of its misery to which she had half a second to say “no wait I-“ before the officer shot his gun, it was a regular hand gun but the bullet seem to transform into a large harpoon in the air and absolutely decimated the head scientists head which smashed into hundreds of pieces, I smirked and some bad ass music started playing and credits rolled like the end of a movie

—————————

Defo one of the more strange and in-depth dreams I’ve had, no idea where that came from but it was both weird scary and awesome, I just wish I could have painted a better picture of the visuals of the dream if I was an artist I would storyboard the shit out of this lmao but yeah it was interesting and if you read this and think I’m a freak it’s because I am one

#dreamlog #dreams #creppy #gore #CW #fucked up mind #me #personal

2 notes · View notes