#can i mention too that he lost a LOT of blood in that bear trap | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erwinsvow · 3 years

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𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

summary: he wasn't always alone. in fact, there was a time when levi had you.

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions/description of injury and patching up, levi needs sleep

author's note: been in the works for a while because i couldn't figure out what i wanted to do, but this takes place after levi & zeke's conversation and there will be an angsty part two, i hope everyone likes it! it doesn't really make much sense but bear with me :)

listening to: don't let me go

“I bet you’re not popular with the ladies. Don’t act like you know about someone’s feelings.”

He pauses, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“I know. And I was… popular enough.”

He lets his mind take him back, back a time before everything in the world was so messed up. When he knew what his responsibilities were, and when there were clear orders to follow. He can’t seem to recall when everything went straight to shit. It feels like it’s been a long time coming.

He knew he was screwed years ago, when he was trying to stitch up the deep gash on his shoulder by himself, sitting in his quarters with a bowl of warm water and bloody bandages. You had been helping the others, a traumatized recruit with a concussion and broken leg, courtesy of the fifteen meter that had overwhelmed him.

There were a few others too, especially a familiar face that seemingly always needed your assistance after a mission. He wondered just how many times the boy—because that’s all he is, a boy, and that’s all you are, a girl—could get away with the same old ruse.

Regardless, he wouldn’t be visiting you tonight. Never mind that the cut he’s trying to nurse by himself is nearly impossible to properly reach, and that he feels dizzy from consistent bleeding and lack of energy in his body. The alcohol he ingested to calm his nerves doesn’t really do anything, either, since there isn’t nearly enough of the stuff in his room to actually have an impact.

He’s going to crash soon, he knows, and even though sleep always evades him, he just wanted to get this wrapped up and lay down without making a bloody mess everywhere. He releases a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding. The very thought of you is enough to tense up every muscle in his body, and the idea of you being alone with that idiotic, improper recruit makes his fist tighten around the needle. Sewing himself up tonight is a lost cause. He finally decides a bandage, no matter how bloody it might become, will have to do.

He stands up, slowly because he doesn’t want to pass out from a head rush, when there’s a knock on the door. He groans a little too loudly at the sound of it. He doesn’t feel like talking to anyone tonight, especially in this condition, wearing a torn scrap of a shirt and blood trapped underneath his nails.

“Who is it?” he calls out harshly, wondering if maybe they’ll just leave if he sounds scary. The other scouts knew he didn’t like to be bothered, and wouldn’t have come unless there was an emergency. If it was Hange she would have barged in already, and he would have recognized Erwin’s heavy footsteps from down the hall. No, he knows who it is. He just wishes that he’s wrong.

“It- It’s me. Petra said you were hurt earlier and that it looked bad. I just wanted to make sure it was okay…” Your soft, hesitant voice trails off, and he knows how much courage it took for you to knock on his door.

What he doesn’t know is that there was no way you were falling asleep tonight without making sure Levi was okay, no matter how angry he would get at you for bothering him at night.

You’re bracing for that reaction when the door opens, but when your wide eyes meet his tired grey ones, you feel yourself melt and all the words in your head disappear. There’s only one fragment of a thought left, the fact that Levi’s bleeding, and a lot, at that. You don’t even wait for his permission to step inside, suddenly energized by anger and mumbling to yourself as you set down your supplies and rummage through them.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” he questions quietly. He tries to line his voice with steel like he always does, but the facade is fading with every passing minute.

“I have to clean out your wound, captain, before something festers. If you had told me about this, say, right when we got back, it would have been fine by now, but now I have to rush because you’re too proud to ask for help-” You still and silence yourself.

It was out of line to enter without permission, but this is something else all together. Caring too much is one thing, you know, but insubordination is not tolerated, especially not by Levi.

You pick up a clean needle and thin silk thread that you need to patch up the wound, while searching for the jar of boiled water you need to clean it out first. Alcohol would work too, and you can smell it in the air, but you can’t find the words to ask for it.

Levi’s hands are unusually still, you know because you always notice them, and it’s a stark contrast to the way you’re shaking right now. It’s strange, because you stitched up a handful of others earlier today, and you were completely fine. Even Gunther, who you had always thought was handsome and could make you blush with an off-hand smile, never incited this kind of reaction from you.

You’re silently praying that Levi doesn’t comment on the tremor, but since you’re about to dig a sharp point into his shoulder to tie the skin back together, it would be idiotic if he didn’t say something. You turn to look at him, but it feels like he’s not even there.

His head is hanging down, propped up by the single functional arm, as the other one continues to bleed. You know it’s painful and that he should be saying something, something that makes you stutter and stumble over your words like he always makes you, but he’s just silent.

“Well, get on with it then. If that’s really why you came here this late.” His voice makes you tremble even harder.

There’s so much you try hard at. You try to be the best soldier you can be, even though both you and your superiors know you weren’t meant for this. Sometimes you can fool your fellow soldiers, and the handful of people you can call your friends, and with a few years under your belt, it seems like it’s getting easier to live this life. But you know deep down that it’s not. The one person who always sees right through it is Levi, though.

It’s part of the reason why you’re such a damn mess around him, because there’s no reason to present a false veneer if he knows the truth. You’re not a real soldier, not a real fighter, and you’re more useful as a medic stitching people up than anything else.

And yet, it’s always him who saves you. Him, who makes sure that any threat in between you and the scout you’re trying to rescue from the brink of death is eliminated. Him, that keeps one eye on the target and one eye on your back just in case. And every time, every goddamn time you need to be rescued, he rescues you.

But now, with his head hanging low and any semblance of not knowing why he always saves you gone, it feels your chance to repay him has finally arrived. The shaking stops when you go to sit down near him. Maybe it’s the sudden rush of energy in your body, but you find yourself unbuttoning his shirt to remove whatever remains of the cloth.

His body tenses further, but he doesn’t stop you, and he doesn’t say anything. You’re as gentle and careful as you can be, and once you’re successful, you drop the mangled shirt on the floor. Taking the water, you pour it over the wound as Levi releases a soft hiss at the feeling, for which you’re apologizing before you can even realize the words have left your mouth. He doesn’t say anything, but his shoulder relaxing encourages you to keep going.

You take your time, trying to clean off all the blood you can. You think he’ll protest when you pick up his hands, and wash those too, but he doesn’t. It’s not until you run your own hand over his softly, squeezing the top of it because you don’t have any words to express the thoughts going through your mind, that he finally speaks up.

“Thank you.”

It’s so quiet, you could swear that you had imagined it. He doesn’t look up to meet your eyes like you wish he would, but a smile forces its way onto your face regardless. You focus on the hard part now; stitching up your captain and making sure your work doesn’t leave him with any scars. You focus on your technique, fingers working nimbly and mind focused on this, and for a short time, it doesn’t feel like you’re with your captain, your superior. It just feels like being there with Levi.

All the while, his brain is working overtime to figure out why you’re like this. Why you’re treating him so carefully and gently, when you have no reason to. He doesn’t pick favorites, and even if he did, you wouldn’t be anywhere near that list. You’re not the fastest, you’re not the most lethal, and in fact, he could count on one hand your titan kills and assists. You help people. You save people. But most of the time, you’re just recovering a half-dead soldier so that their body can be buried at home and not forced to remain out there, alone. You’re just there so that parents can have a grave to mourn at, instead of an empty tomb.

He doesn’t treat you better than anyone else, and most of the time assigns you more cleaning duties than the others. You always take it and never complain, something else that he always wonders about. He had come to the conclusion it was because he’s saved your life countless times, and the fact that he isn’t going to let up soon. So you take everything he gives you with a polite smile. And for some goddamn reason, he can’t get that smile out of his head, no matter how hard he tries. You don’t even know how you make him feel; like he’s special and that he deserves these attentions.

A particularly painful turn of the needle makes him flinch, and brings him back to reality. You’re apologizing again, murmuring how you’re almost done, but he doesn’t want you to leave yet. He lets his mind flicker over how you’re always apologizing, and how much he just wants to tell you that you don’t have to, not for anything. Not for having to come and save you, not for stitching him up, not for trying to fix him.

You let out a sharp breath once you finish, getting back up to fetch a dressing, but his hand grabs yours before you can get too far. Levi looks up, grey eyes full of an emotion you can’t exactly pinpoint, one you have never seen before from him.

“Will you stay a little longer?” And just like that, everything in the world seems to fall into place.

“Of course. Let me just wrap it up, first. I’ll stay as long as you want.” You’re surprised at yourself for finding the words so quickly, because your heart has never pounded so fast in your life. You fumble around, trying to find the right thing, hands shaking again, and you can’t seem to get them to stop.

You go back to Levi, wrapping the cloth around his shoulder and securing it around his arm, suddenly hyper aware of the feel of his skin. It’s softer than you had imagined it would be. Both of you sit in the silence for a while, your hand finding a place over his and rubbing soft circles on his knuckles with your thumb.

You want to say something, anything, but there aren’t any words that seem right. His fingers deftly work their way around yours, and you honestly wonder if he can hear your heartbeat or the blood rushing to your cheeks. It’s past midnight now, and you have a feeling dawn will be approaching before long.

“You should really sleep now. It won’t get better until you rest a little.” You’re speaking because his actions gave you a little bit of confidence, but he interprets it wrong almost immediately.

“Of course. You’d like to go now?”

“N-no! No, I just thought that, that you would be tired now. I can go if you want, I-”

“I don’t get much sleep anyways.” He doesn’t even mean to sound so dejected, but it comes out before he can stop himself. He’s spent too, too many nights laying awake, sleep ever-evading him, wondering how it might be to sleep besides you. Would he get some rest? Would he be able to close his eyes and not open them an hour later with a pounding chest? He can’t remember the last time he was able to fall asleep, and stay asleep. You don’t make any movement to get away, and he notices your hand twitch and wonders why.

You have to fight yourself internally to keep your hand down, and not wrap your arms around your captain as you process his words. Your heart feels strangely heavy at the thought of Levi laying awake, all alone, exhausted but unable to succumb to the ease of rest. He’s on guard, all the time, every minute of every day, and half the time he’s expending his energy on saving you.

You’re not confident, like some of the others. You never have been. But in this moment, you feel something rushing into your body and coursing through your veins, something close to confidence but slightly different. The feeling makes you release Levi’s hand and shed your sweater, and crawl into his bed. It’s almost exactly as you expected, and not nearly as soft or warm as your own. But you think about Levi sleeping soundly beside you, him peaceful and content, and it doesn’t matter how comfortable his bed is. You just want him to fall asleep.

He looks at you with a mix of emotions, surprise being mixed in with them. He hadn’t been expecting that, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate it.

You’re sitting under the covers now, waiting expectedly for something. A part of you fears that this wasn’t what he meant, or wanted, but your racing heart calms down a little at the sight of him coming in to get settled beside you. He releases a sigh when his shoulder hits the mattress, at ease finally, and so exhausted that every muscle in his body is about to give out.

He sleeps on his back, you note, before shifting your gaze to the ceiling quickly. You certainly don’t want him to notice that you’re staring, or that you keep fingering the soft sheets between your fingers to remind yourself this is real and really happening.

“Stop fidgeting.” His voice is quiet, and even, and stills you instantly. You finally lift your head to look at him, letting out a breath at how he looks. Eyes closed, almost peaceful, laying on his back with his hand resting right near you.

You’re not sure if it’s the confidence from earlier, or something new entirely, but you adjust the sheets to cover him more, pulling them and letting them rest on his chest. He doesn’t open his eyes, but you notice the way he jerks a little at the motion.

“Sorry, Levi,” you whisper, trying to remain as quiet as possible. You lay your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and letting your own eyes close. You can hear his every breath, the scent of his skin taking over and clouding your mind as every sense slowly focused on one thing; him. “Let’s sleep now.”

#this is probably the first thing i've posted that is in canon and it makes no sense but i really liked writing this #me: i wanna write dark content #also me: writes angst with fluff and calls it a day #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #attack on titan #aot #levi x reader #shingeki no kyojin

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kpop-sports-books-series-fangirl · 3 years

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I’m sorry (Hunger Games)

Masterlist

Request form and prompt list

(Y/N) - Your name

Plot - (Y/N) was captured by the capitol and somehow manages to escape, but their former best friend, Finnick, and the Mockingjay are mad at them because they couldn’t save Peeta and Annie. (Y/N) volunteers to go on the mission to save Peeta, Annie, and Johanna from the capitol.

Warning - Super angsty, mentions of blood, torture, violence and gun shots

“...So, any volunteers?” President Coin asks everyone around the table. Gale Hawthorne is the first to raise his hand. “I’ll go,” he says.

The gloomy atmosphere of the room shifts to one of caution when I speak for the first time in two weeks. “I’ll go too,”

I can’t bear any more of the cold looks of my former best friend. And the glares from the Mockingjay. Was it really my fault that I managed to escape from the capitol? I saw my chance and took it. Being tortured for months was not a good experience and I got out as soon as I could.

I thought my ex-best friend would be happy to see me, but the only thing I see when I look in his eyes is pure hatred for me, pure hatred at the fact that I couldn’t save the love of his life, Annie. Not me, Annie.

Everyone looks at me, shocked at the fact that I’d volunteered to go back to the place that I was imprisoned and tortured. Everyone but Finnick. I looked at him. He avoided my gaze. Surprise.

Sighing, I exited the room, not even waiting for the meeting to be finished. I head back to my room, and look through my things once again, in case I won’t make it back.

I take out the box of my belongings from my district. I picked up the fishing hook that my father gave me the day before he was killed by Snow. I clutched it in my hand and continued looking through the box. The next thing was a necklace, my older sister’s necklace.

I tied it around my neck and observed it through the mirror my mother had bought for my 15th birthday. The last thing that lay in the box was a picture. The picture of me and Finnick back when we were kids.

I had just jumped on Finnick’s back and he ran around like crazy. My sister had taken a picture with her brand new camera which was gifted to her by our parents for her 13th birthday. She lost the camera and I remember looking for it for days and when it didn’t turn up, she cried a lot, feeling like she had betrayed our parents by losing the camera.

One evening, I couldn’t bear to see my sister crying anymore, so I had stomped over to Finnick’s house, dragged him out and made him help me search for it. We had decided to split up and cover more ground, but I got lost.

I tried finding my way back, but I couldn't, eventually, the sun started setting and I found a huge oak tree under which I took shade. My stomach grumbled out of hunger, and me being the 7-year-old I was, had started crying and drifted off into an uncomfortable slumber.

A few hours later, I was shaken awake by Finnick. “Hey, (Y/N), wake up,” He then noticed the tear stains on my face and pulled me into a hug. “Why were you crying?” He asked me. “I got lost, and I was so alone and I got scared,” I admitted to him.

He pulled out of the hug, keeping his hands on my shoulders, and said, “I’m sorry. I won’t ever let you get lost again. If you somehow do still manage to get lost, come to this tree, okay? And I will find you, I promise,”

“Promise?” I asked again. “I promise to always be there for you no matter what!” He says and goes to hold my hand. “I promise to always hold this hand,”

I smiled at him, and he led the way home.

He broke the promise. He broke the promise when he let me be taken by the capitol. Blinking the tears away, I set everything back in the box.

I felt a sudden urge to throw up and ran to the bathroom in my room and coughed out blood. This had been happening for a while now. I thought it was because of the torture that was inflicted upon me, but now, I’m not too sure.

I wash myself up and go to sit on my bed, trying to calm down.

I hear a knock on my door, and I stand up and open the door a crack so no one could even look in. It was Gale.

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning, and we’re meeting for the briefing in an hour,” He said. I simply nodded and shut the door on his face.

☽˚･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆☽

We all are geared up and waiting for everyone in the airborne division. We board the hovercraft and take off.

Everyone looks anxious. The hovercraft feels a little more crowded than I like with 7 people aboard. The red lights flashing doesn’t help the nervous energy in the air... Some people are reviewing the plans with each other and I see Gale looking over at me.

I look away and close my eyes, trying to prepare my mind for what I’m about to witness again.

Once we reached there, we entered through a secret passageway that we were informed about through our earpiece. We took out the two guards who were standing guard to the prison area.

One of the people took out a gadget and started to press some buttons, but I wasn’t concentrating, just trying to get myself mentally ready.

The doors opened with a loud hiss, revealing the huge chamber with cells. Everything was white, reminding me of the times when I was trapped in here with nothing else to look at.

All the memories of the place came rushing back.

I was sitting on the floor, clutching my head in an attempt to stop the immense pain traveling through my veins. I hear evil laughter and when I look up, I see Snow. “So, are you ready to speak now?” He asked. “Never!” I spat at him. “Increase it to the highest level,” he said to no one, but I knew that there were people watching and listening from the CCTV cameras, and immediately, the pain intensified by 20 times. I screamed so loud, the whole of Panem probably heard me. When the pain finally died down a bit, my throat was sore by how much I had screamed.

I was snapped back into reality when Gale snapped his fingers in front of me. I noticed that the alarm was triggered and red lights were blaring. I noticed that we have Peeta, Annie, and Johanna with us now and we were heading back to the hovercraft.

I stayed at the back of the group in case a peacekeeper came to attack and followed the rest out through a different passage.

Suddenly, I heard a few shouts “This way! They’re here,” followed by some gunshots. Everyone in front of me was running now, we turned right and hid behind the wall.

I spun around, signaling the others to continue going, and shot at the peacekeepers. They were shooting back of course, but I had a much better aim. I felt pressure in my abdomen and I shot down the last person.

I looked down to see I had been shot, but I covered it with my t-shirt and turned to follow the others.

I managed to jog back to the hovercraft without fainting, although the loss of blood was making me lightheaded. They were trying to get Peeta to trust them and board the hovercraft but he wouldn’t budge.

I couldn’t stand anymore and I collapsed on a seat in the hovercraft. I put my hand on the wound and pressed down on it, hoping to slow the blood flow.

“(Y/N), would you come and help-! What happened!?” I heard someone say in the distance, but I couldn’t make out who it was. I kept drifting in and out of consciousness.

It felt like hours till we made it back to district 13 and I was rushed to an emergency room. They didn’t have any sedatives on hand so they had to take out the bullet with me awake.

The pain was building up now that the adrenaline rush was gone. I couldn’t remember much that happened, just that fact that I was blinded from the pain, I had clenched my fists, trying to somehow grab something, and I heard beeps around me before I completely went out of consciousness.

Once I woke up, the doctors told me that it had been almost a week since the mission. When I had asked them if someone came to visit, they said no. I thought Finnick would come. I thought we were best friends. I thought-

I don’t know why I thought that anymore. If me taking a bullet for his love isn’t enough, I don’t know what else I can do for him. I might as well give up.

No one cares about me. I turned my head so that the doctor couldn’t see the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I looked down at my hand, the same one Finnick always promised to hold. If he really was my best friend, he would have been there when they were removing the bullet, holding my hand, but he was probably celebrating with Annie.

No one needs me. After my family was killed, no one loved me. No one cared about me and no one needed me.

“We need to run a few more tests on you today, then you can rest,” The doctor told me. I nodded okay. “Doctor, how many days will I have to stay here for?” I asked him.

“You have very bad injuries and it might take more than a month to heal. If the test results are showing that you have another illness, then, we can’t tell until we figure out what you are diagnosed with,”

By the end of the day, I was exhausted and all of the test results had come back. I was resting in my bed, waiting for the doctor to come back, and he came in wearing a regretful expression.

“What happened?” I asked him. “Your results show that you have lung cancer,” “Can you treat it?” I ask even though I don’t know if I want to live anymore.

“We don’t have the resources to treat a Stage 1 cancer here, and you have Stage 4 cancer,” he broke the news.

I took a moment to soak it in before I asked, “How long do I have to live?”

“You should have had 1 month, but because of the bullet, your condition worsened and you just have two weeks left, I’m sorry,” he said and he left the room.

I have two weeks left. Two weeks of my life. I didn’t have anyone to say goodbye to anyways.

After a few days of moping in the hospital room, I find out that Annie and Finnick are going to get married.

On the day of the wedding, I still couldn't get out of the wheelchair, so one of the doctors took me to the wedding.

It was an okay wedding, mostly because it wasn’t me up there, beside’s Finnick. I was sitting at the back of the hall, so no one could see me, I didn’t mind though, I could just watch everything in peace.

Annie and Finnick kiss. They’re married. At least Finnick is happy now, I can see that smile on his face that I couldn’t put there.

A fit of coughs hit me, but the music is too loud and no one cares enough to take a look at me. I start coughing so hard that I’m thrown out of the wheelchair and I can see blood slowly pooling on the floor. A minute later, I collapse, still coughing. Until my eyes close.

Finnick P.O.V

It’s been two days since Annie and I got married, and I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, clutching onto the letter, trying not to cry.

I was just told that (Y/N) died during the wedding due to lung cancer. they left me a note. It said:

Hey Finnick!

I know by the time you read this I’ll be gone. Hopefully to heaven, but with all I’ve done, I wouldn’t be surprised if I go downstairs. Anyways enough about me. I was very angry with you for breaking your promise, but I figured, what good is it to die angry? Might as well live a happy two weeks of life I have left.

I want to get a weight off of my shoulders. I’m sorry I didn’t save Annie when I came back. I should have tried harder. I’m sorry.

I know you won’t miss me when I’m gone, but I’ll miss you. Your friendship. You were there for me through a lot of my hard times, so I want to say thank you.

Thank you for finding me when I got lost. Thank you for defending me against those bullies back in school. Thank you for the happiest times of my life. Thank you for being the reason my smile became just a tiny bit bigger. Thank you for being the reason my heart opened up more. Thank you for making me a better person. Thank you for being the reason to light up my life, even though I wasn’t yours.

Thank you Finnick, thank you.

I just want to say one last thing to you.

I love you.

I always have, even though you never loved me back.

Live a happy life with Annie.

Don’t you dare cry for me.

(Y/N)

I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing anymore. I was the reason for their anger in the last few days of their life. Only if I hadn’t hated them when they came back from the capitol and been thankful, maybe they wouldn’t have gone.

I didn’t even get to apologize to them. The last thing I said to them was “How could you not have gotten Annie back?!”

And they loved me? If only I had known before I met Annie because I was in love with them too.

A/N: I know the timeline is completely messed up, but I couldn't understand the exact timeline in the book, so I went with what felt right. Hope you enjoy it! :)

-TheBlueBookworm is out~!!!

#hunger games #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick x annie #finnick angst #gale hawthorne

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hornedsimp · 3 years

Note

Ayeee its ya boi, schlatt addict-

So last year I got my foot caught in a bear trap, and I was just thinking about if the reader got hurt during a fight with another mc youtuber (in game ofc) and schlatt finds them really badly hurt, and he has to take care of them. Bc they can't walk and ya know ✨b l o o d✨

So yeah thats my idea, peace ✌

Oh dear god, I hope that everything it’s alright with your leg now!

Thanks for taking the time to request this, it’s so soft and I love it so much!

I hope you like it!

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Jschlatt x Reader (Fluff)

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Warnings: Cursing, mention of alcohool, light level of violence at the beggining.

That's what I got, but if you see anything that you want me to put in the warnings please let me know

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You had gotten into a pretty bad fight with Willbur after Schlatt had announced the festival, you were walking around the city, to make sure everything was fine when you had spotted him at the top of a tree, his eyes once so caring filled with rage.

You knew that wasn't the Willbur you met long ago, and since you were on Schlatt's side now, you went to confront him, it didn't end up well for you.

No one was expecting to fight on the day of the announcement, for that reason you weren't with your netherite armor, only wearing the black suit you liked so much to seem more serious.

It was a pretty suit, yes, but it didn't work well against arrows and a diamond sword, granted, you couldn't even imagine how Willbur got his hands on a diamond sword when he was wearing the dirtiest outfit you've seen in ages.

Nonetheless, the fight dragged through the forest, as both of you were screaming at each other, Willbur trying to make you see how he was the victim of the system, trying to get back to the country he loved so much, while you were trying to explain why the rules were made to keep him away.

When he stopped trying to convince you that he wasn't doing anything bad, and started to attack you with more rage than before, you knew you were right since the beginning, Willbur had gone mad in his exile.

He shouted curses at you, throwing punches in your direction until he could trip you and hold you down on the ground, he got his sword with hands trembling, a dangerous smile on his face as he put the sword at the top of your chest, you tried to move, tears forming in your eyes as you screamed trying to get him to lose his balance so you could escape.

It was to no avail, you could feel the sword slowly making contact with your skin, the pain running through your skin slowly, almost taunting you to do something to stop it.

You bit hard on the inside of your cheeks, tasting your own blood trying to not focus on the pain, it would only get worst and worst, you closed your eyes waiting for the blackness to swallow you whole right after Wilbur pierced through your chest, but the void never came to take you out.

What came instead was another sudden wave of pain, this time concentrating on your leg, as you opened your eyes, you could see the blood running through your chest, but what got your attention, was the sword impelled at your leg, there was blood everywhere, your clothes ripped in many places where Willbur had attacked you.

And thinking about the devil, he was gone, no words or apologies, no shadow lurking behind the trees to see if you would survive, simply gone.

As the adrenaline in your body started to go down, and the pain got bigger, your eyes started to close, they felt too heavy, but you knew deep down you couldn't pass out from the pain in the middle of the forest, so you did the only thing you could think of.

You called Schlatt for help, since your arms weren't too damaged to move, you grasp on the small string of consciousness to open the message board everyone could use as a sort of direct link to each other.

Typing out your coordinates you pressed sent, letting your hands fall limp close to your body, and finally letting yourself crave the dark embrace that awaited for you, telling yourself that it would be fine once schlatt found you, your vision turned dark, and you blacked out.

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

When you woke up again, you were in a large room, in a massive bed, with lots of blankets organized messily around you, there was an enormous window from where you could see Manberg in all of its glory, as you were trying to get a better view by moving, the door of the room opened, revealing schlatt, with a tired expression carrying a small plate with what seemed to be mushroom soup.

"What the fuck you think you're doing woman?" He asked with his loud voice practically running to your side.

"Trying to get up?" You asked still trying to move your body to at least sit on the bed more comfortably.

"Yeah that's the fucking problem dumb bitch, you can't move or else the stitches can get worst." Schlatt argued putting the plate on the bed table at your side.

He pulled the blankets off of you so you could see the white bandages covering your leg, quickly you pulled your shirt a little so you could peek at your chest, there was also white bandages firmly wrapped in your torso, you looked at schlatt, feeling your face get hot as you pieced together the pieces of what probably had happened after you blacked out alone in the forest.

Before you could say anything about the whole situation though, Schlatt let out a sigh, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Don't ever think about that, I asked Nikki to help with the bandages, and she is the one that dresses you up on some spare clothes she had with her."

You could feel yourself relax at that, nodding your head slightly Schlatt approached you, moving his hands so he could support your torso and pull you up, making you sit on the bed, after making sure you were comfortable enough the hybrid handed you the small plate with the soup.

"Nikki thinks you're going to be able to walk in two weeks, but if you have any problem with the wound, it can take three weeks or more, you can stay here while you're healing." Schlatt says before leaving the room.

You blink a few after he leaves, your face still a little hot as you think about how careful he held you to help you move your body, deciding to not give yourself a headache thinking about it, you start to eat the soup, only to be interrupted again by Schallat entering the room.

He was carrying a shit ton of magazines and random books, the hybrid crossed the room to come to the other side of the bed and let all of the magazines down at your side, he sat right beside you and moved the magazines around so you could see all of the titles.

" I also thought... you could get bored, so I got some shit for you to read if you want to." Schlatt said with a proud smile.

You could only smile in return and offer a quiet "thanks" as you went back to eat the soup, after you finished Schlatt quickly took the place and went out to the kitchen as you moved around a little, picking a random magazine you moved the others away so there could be more space for the president in the bed.

You knew he wouldn't leave your side, not until you were completely okay again, he was just looking out for you in his way, standing close and making sure you wouldn't have any problem in your recovery.

Just as you expected, he came back soon after leaving the plate at the sink, he sat once again beside you, putting his head at your shoulder you hummed quietly, moving your hand so you could caress the side of his face.

You had learned long ago that the ram hybrid was pretty touch starved, although he kept the charade of a tough guy that doesn't need anything else other than his whiskey, you've been on his side for what seemed like forever now.

Schlatt took your hand, placing a soft kiss on your wrist before moving his head, headbutting you lightly to gain your attention, you moved your gaze from the current magazine on your lap to his face.

"Don't ever do this again to me alright?" He said in a more serious tone, his fingers tracing the lines of your hand.

"Okay, I'll make sure to not get hurt again to take up your bed." You snorted with a small smile forming on your face.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't give me another heart attack like this one, I thought I lost you when you sent the coordinates and didn't answer when I asked what was happening." He held your hands more firmly, afraid that you would suddenly vanish right in front of his eyes.

Placing a small kiss on his temples you smiled with confidence, headbutting him lightly like how he had done moments ago.

"Don't worry, I promise to do my best to not get stabbed again."

That got Schlatt to laugh as he gave you some more space, squeezing your hand he moved on the bed, sticking his legs out and pushing a blanket over himself.

"You better do your fucking best alright, now, let's talk shit about those magazine people, and how they look so uncomfortable in the covers."

#dream smp #IGDSMP #c!schlatt #c!schlatt x reader #imagine

156 notes · View notes

pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

What makes a monster

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is my entry for @youbloodymadgenius‘ 1k Followers Celebration, with the prompt “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of war, blood, and death (and a passing description of it, nothing too graphic), descriptions of injury.

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this prompt, though whether or not this is any good remains to be decided. I sincerely hope this makes some sense lol

Thank you for the chance to participate in this!! Congratulations again!!

Ivar taught you many things, in the time that has passed since he made you his wife.

He taught you to play chess. You could never beat him.

Not until you found a way to distract him, to get close enough to make his heart quicken, to touch him just right to make his eyes drawn to you and not the board.

It was easy to take over the board when he was distracted, when words of love poured from his lips like spells, when his eyes -open and maddeningly in love- focused on you instead of the move you’d made.

Ivar taught you how to get his heart.

____

The sword trembles in your grasp, a myriad of emotions swirling inside you and stealing the steadiness of your hand.

The woman guides you into exchanging the weapon, tells you which words to repeat.

You give him your father’s sword, and at the sight of his smile you offer the same, and your lips form the three words that make his smile wider, softer.

The woman finishes speaking, and you don’t hear the words, too trapped in this moment, but you know what they mean, you know what has changed, you know what just started.

The ring on his finger is cold against your skin when Ivar cups your face and brings you close to him for a kiss that steals your breath and your every thought.

His other hand grips at your waist, and you pull away from his lips.

“Ivar!” You chastise lowly, a small delighted laugh leaving your lips. Your own hand grips at his forearm, careful to keep him upright now that he has exchanged holding onto the crutch for holding onto you.

He only smiles, a light and enamored chuckle leaving his lips as he tilts your head to him again, and kisses you passionately as the people around you cheer.

“I love you.” He promises against your lips, before claiming your mouth again. You kiss him back, with all the emotion you can muster.

When he parts one final time, brow pressed against yours and eyes shinning and light and happy as he looks at you; there’s nothing that could keep you from returning that smile, from bestowing the gentlest of touches on the side of his face, tracing the contour of his wide smile.

“My wife.” He calls out, lowly, a whisper, a secret.

“My husband,” You return, and a promise of your own, “I love you.”

You sit up on the bed, but no matter how slight you try to keep your movements, Ivar still mumbles something that sounds quite close to your name, hand stretched in search for you even as he continues to sleep.

And to the silent command that you return to him you give in, and put your hand over his, and take a moment to let your fingertips trace over the ring on his finger.

There’s two completely different men making up the one you married, and you have known that for a while.

A side of him that takes your hand roughly in his and makes you stand at his side even as the gore and blood of the last result of his rage still stains him and the room around you.

And a side of him that offers disbelieving eyes and trembles at the softest of your touches, that whispers your name like a prayer before a dream that threatens to shatter.

Whenever you are together in public, Ivar always finds a way to be touching you. To anyone else, anyone that didn’t know him the way you do, the gestures would be insignificant, would be thoughtless.

Nothing in the way Ivar behaves when he is surrounded by people is thoughtless, none of the ways he moves his body are insignificant.

And the weight of his arm around you, or the comforting grip of his hand on yours, or even the slightest of touches of his lips over your skin; mean something to you, something you couldn’t even begin to put words to.

And that change that takes over him, that softening of his features at the sight of you, that lowering of his guard when you are near, that release of tension when you touch him; it is only accentuated when you are alone.

When you are alone, side by side on the bed you share, secrets spill from his lips as easily as moans, and his eyes never cease to look at you like you remain something out of a dream.

With the months that follow your wedding, you banish the side of him that is made of jagged edges and cruelty and biting coldness from ever entering the room you share. And he remains, he always will -and you wouldn’t feel for him what you do if it weren’t so- made out of two sides of him, but you lay claim to one, the same way you lay claim to his heart.

Your heart beats quickly in your chest, and the shadows envelop you but you still fear, you still jump at every step and every voice.

Because these people know your face, these people know the way you walk, know what your body looks like. No cloak, no hood, no lowered gaze will help you hide.

Which is why you need the shadows. Which is why the darkness of the forest ahead is comforting.

Which is why when the shouted commands reach your ears, and out they go like hounds searching for Kattegat’s Queen, you run for the comfort of the darkness.

“I am sorry,” He starts one night, startling you from your lazy exploration of the lines of ink on his chest. You lift your head to find pale blue eyes focused intently on you, searching your gaze with a blend of pain and devotion that tugs your heart in two different directions. Ivar swallows, and continues, “For what I do, for…for what I did.”

His hand reaches to take the one that was wandering on his chest, and Ivar holds on tight to it.

You look into his eyes and say, “You have done nothing but make me happy.”

His expression falters, as if for a moment he wants to believe you, but with a furrow that trembles on his brows he insists, “I did many things wrong, when it came to you.”

But you shake your head, “You owe me no apologies. It is in the past.”

“The Gods…uh, they…they have never given much to me, not without…” He stops, licks his lips, avoids your gaze. You watch in silence, hanging onto the words that are yet to leave his lips, “Not without taking just as much. I…I had my father treat me like he did my brothers and…and I lost him, then I came back and I lost my mother, my home,” He frowns, and his hand tightens on yours. The anger that accompanies the grief, that always will. Ivar continues, “I…I was one more among my brothers, even Björn had to listen to me and I-…Sigurd made me kill him, and they hated me for it, I lost him, and I lost them too.”

“Ivar…” The word is hoarse as it leaves your lips, but you don’t know what to say, what to do.

“Now I have you, and I…I love you,” Each time he says it there’s a fragility in the three words, there’s a fear in the admission that some days is louder than others. Today is the loudest. “I am happy, with you, and I…”

His words die with what feels like a dying breath leaving his lips, and you offer the only words you can.

“You won’t lose me.”

You never wanted to fight, you never bothered learning. But you know about hiding.

You wait for the man to run past where you are, measure your breathing as you watch him turn his back to you. Your grip on the heavy log is tight, and you pray for strength before you move.

He grunts when you hit his legs, making him fall on the ground. Startled eyes look up at you before you bring the log down again, the scream this time shrill and echoing over the dark forest.

His leg bends wrong at the knee now, and the man pants and keens in pain, but you kneel next to him, and make him listen to you with frantic eyes.

“Go back where you came from, I am not going with you. Tell Ivar…tell Ivar I’m going home, tell him there’s no other way.”

You leave him there, darting for the comfort of the woods with your mind set on the next stage.

On the docks of the small fishing town neighboring Kattegat a ship awaits, Ribe’s flag on it, welcoming you back.

You board it, feeling eyes on you, as if Ivar could see all the way from the place he made you call home what you are doing. The ghost of who still lives, the ghost that haunts you with the burden of what you have betrayed.

You leave him behind, but he follows.

____

Ivar taught you many things, in the time that has passed since he invaded a kingdom and forced you to be at his side.

He taught you to wage war. You could never beat him.

Not until you found a way to get his focus on you, to make him face across a battlefield the eyes of one that promised him love and forever, to grip his heart tight enough in your fist that even across the board where warriors become pawns you see his pain.

It was easy to win each battle when he was distracted, when pain and grief left his lips like blood from a fatal wound, when his eyes -betrayed and still maddeningly in love- focused on you instead of the move you’d made.

Because Ivar taught you how to get his heart.

____

Ribe greets you with a feast and a sacrifice of which you still bear the blood of.

“We have word from across the sea. Kattegat is weakened. Once the King falls, we will be able to take over.” Your mother states, and you nod, swirling the drink in your cup and keeping your eyes on your brother, who seems to cling to her every word, just like when you were children.

“But Ivar the Boneless lives.” A shieldmaiden argues, scarred face frowning at her plate.

“Not for long,” The once Queen consort of Ribe states, spine straightened when she looks at you. You lift your eyebrows, but wait for your mother to speak. “I taught you better than to fail.”

“I haven’t failed. I lured him here, I weakened his army,” You snarl back, not caring for the sudden stillness in the room as mother and daughter face one another. After a breath, you motion with your head and insist, “What is the plan, when they land here? When his army is at our door?”

She sighs, “Your brother-…”

“My brother is too much of a coward to lead his own men into battle, I know,” You silence Emil’s complaint with a gesture of your hand, and your brother obediently stays silent. Turning your gaze to your mother, you insist, “And you were never a good Queen, mother, our men won’t follow you. So, tell me, who will lead them?”

“You,” She doesn’t miss a beat, always so certain the ground will be solid under her feet. You admire that, more than you could ever admit. She lifts a cup your way, “You were the one to return when they believed you had died. If our army is to listen to any of the people of our blood, it is you.”

“You’re making a mistake,” You warn her, but she is certain. You accept her words with a shrug, but one last time you offer, “This mistake will cost you, mother.”

____

Your mother taught you many things, ever since you were old enough to understand the ways of the world.

She taught you to betray. To be a lie in a world of men.

And a lie would know to put on a smile and to summon softness to her gaze, a lie would be able to whisper empty promises of devotion, a lie would do whatever it took to keep the lie alive.

A lie would survive, in a world of men. A world of monsters with the pleading blue eyes of someone a better woman could love, a world of beasts that are soothed at the vow of love sealed over hungry lips.

Your mother taught you to betray it all in the name of love.

____

The King of Kattegat limps away from the body as if it were nothing, turning to your mother and faking a bow with his free hand.

“The Princess is coming with me to Kattegat, or I raze this kingdom to ash. Your choice, Dane.”

When he leaves, the carefully held breaths in the room seem to stutter past all your lips, and your hand falls slowly from your mouth, no longer trying to keep at bay a scream you didn’t let out anyways.

“F-Father…” You whimper, and distantly you hear voices, you hear sounds. But you cannot take your eyes off of the lifeless ones of your father, who lays on the floor of his own throne room with a knife deep in his chest.

Your mother’s hands are trembling as she holds your face and makes you look into her tear-filled eyes. You can still hear her scream in your head, the shrill keen of a woman that saw the man she loved be killed in front of her.

“We have to kill him,” You whisper, and you wonder dazedly if it isn’t her hands that tremble, but the whole of you. “We have to make him pay. Mother-…”

“We will,” She vows, and her voice doesn’t waver, her resolve doesn’t crumble even if she does. “Remember what I told you? You keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

Realization dawns on you, and you start shaking your head. Please, Gods…

“No, n-no, don’t make me do this,” You beg, and you feel your shoulders rise and fall but no breath enters your lungs. You refuse to honor a deal your father made when the man he made the deal with still has his blood warm on his hands. “Mother, please, I can’t-…don’t-…”

“You will be his wife. It is as arranged,” She snarls, her hands on the sides of your face shaking you slightly. “You will take your father’s sword with you, and you will give it to Ivar the Boneless, and you will bear his ring in exchange.”

The men that mere months ago bowed their heads to you now look you over with distrust; the word -the title- that they once echoed respectfully is now a sneer as you walk them by.

Hvitserk looks at you like you saw him look at his enemies across a battlefield, unbridled rage and nothing but hate in a once-warm gaze. You still offer a smile as you pass him by, as you walk into Ivar’s tent.

“Do you have to…to leave so soon? We’ve barely been married a fortnight, Ivar.”

Your smile is soft when he turns to you, and you know he only sees love shining in your eyes.

“Will you miss me?” He teases, but there’s truth behind the question, there’s longing and the need to be reassured of love behind that practiced smile.

You lift your hand to his face, a teasing yet gentle push of your finger to his temple, before you cup his cheek and delight yourself in the way armor crumbles to dust at your touch.

“What kind of question is that?” You insist, shaking your head, pretend-fondness on your voice.

He turns back to his brother, promises the attack on Ribe will happen soon, that the Danes will be theirs. But, he acquiesces with a soft squeeze of your hand on his, after the winter has passed.

And it dawns on you that with but a touch you’ve bought them more time, almost a year.

Later that night you lay on his chest, tracing absently the ink marks on it, wondering if he notices how your touch lingers on the skin over his heart. Wondering if he would be naïve enough to believe it a gesture of love.

When you married him, when you followed your mother’s orders and set not to be devoured by the monster that ruled Kattegat, but to satiate his hunger for long enough that you could escape; you were startled by the…rawness of him.

The anger always too-quick to flare, the easily infuriated gaze of a man that revels in death, the bare truth of a monster made out of jagged edges and blades that broke as soon as they pierced the skin. That didn’t surprise you.

But the vulnerability that seemed to startle him as much as you, the secrets spilling from his lips with pale eyes looking up at you expecting answers, the bloodied hands that offered you a battered and cold heart with the unwavering trust that you’d keep it safe. That did surprise you.

It also surprised you how easily you made him believe you loved him. How easily you got his heart.

And when his hand grasps yours, stops your aimless wandering over his chest, you smile up at him, warmth in your chest.

What a terrible thing, what a dangerous thing, to crave love.

You walk out of that tent alive, something no one with a sound mind would believe. No enemy of Ivar the Boneless survives him, much less one that dared betray him.

But you do. And past the disdain, past the disgust, now in the army that surrounds you in this place they have decided to set camp in; there’s surprise, there’s fear.

Something, a question, a seed of doubt, shines in Hvitserk’s eyes when he sees you again, and once again you offer only a smile.

Your feet are bare on the cold ground, and you peer out the small opening into the cold world around you. You don’t have much time left.

Your heart trembles in your chest as you walk back to the bed, sitting down and hearing the soft rustling of Ivar moving at your back. His hand, almost by instinct, almost by heart, finds your leg, and he moves closer, a sleepy hum leaving his lips.

His voice, roughened by sleep and something else, calls out your name.

“I’m here, love.” You tell him quietly, a promise.

Your thoughts linger on the last word, though. Love.

You grew up hearing the stories of how love turned Gods into mere men, and made men believe themselves to be Gods. There was always a part of you drawn to those tales of how love made the worst of monsters human again.

They don’t talk about the other way around, though, you think to yourself as your fingertips dance over the ring on Ivar’s finger.

About how love makes monsters out of humans.

And, terrifyingly enough, it is not in the absence of love, or the loss of it. No, just in its existence, something as pure, as selfless, as vital as love can make a monster.

You close your eyes and you can see that horizon that is so familiar yet so strange, so wrong, and as Ivar sits behind you, hand loving even if threatening at your throat, lips reverent and fervent against the skin of your neck; you feel truth pour from your lips.

“My mother, she…she taught me to lie. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, she’d say.”

“Hm. And who is your enemy?”

Your mind lingers on that horizon, on the distant monsters that walk those streets you so loathe. And you have your answer.

You walk through familiar doors again, and Ribe’s people, Ribe’s warriors, greet you warmly.

You walk up to your mother, who stands by Emil where he sits on his throne, always the voice in his ear. Her eyes are cold when she gazes at you, but there’s the beginning of a smile on her lips.

You bow your head, a show of deference, before you tell her, “Ivar has agreed to a cease fire. He will be here come dawn to…negotiate.”

Once, he would have been a welcome sight in Ribe, when your father let a King from Norway ally himself with Danes, when your family rejoiced at the prospect of having the Princess of Ribe marrying a son of Ragnar. But with his arrival came war, and death; not the peace and allegiance your father was promised.

Last time Ivar the Boneless and the King of Ribe negotiated, your father ended up with a knife in his heart.

There’s hunger in her expression, a hunger you only saw once before. When she wiped your father’s blood from your face and whispered keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, when she turned you into something worse than a monster and told you to kill one.

And dawn comes, and death follows.

____

Your mother taught you many things, ever since you were hungry enough to understand ambition.

She taught you to betray. To be a lie in a world of men.

And a lie would know when to bow her head and fake deference, a lie would be able to weave tales of victory to those underserving, a lie would do whatever it took to keep him alive.

A lie would survive, in a world of men. A world of monsters with blood that runs red from the throat slit on the undeserved throne he sat on, a world of beasts that pretended to have the bond of family run deeper than a bond before the Gods, and lie dead because of that mistake.

Because your mother taught you to betray it all in the name of love.

____

The blood stains your hands, your dress, the knife you still hold on to as you stand in that throne room, the evidence of your betrayal still dripping slowly to the wooden floor.

But you smile, and when you lift your gaze, you find the smile mirrored in familiar lips.

The knife clatters on the blood-soaked floor under your feet, and there’s a little bit of madness in the laugh that leaves your lips as you cross the space between you.

But, as your laugh dissolves against Ivar’s lips, you gather it doesn’t matter.

You close your eyes and surrender to his kiss, you let bloodied hands cup his face and bring him closer to you, and stave off the cold of so many months away from him with the warmth of having him back in your arms.

When you part, his brow presses against yours, and there’s shaky relief in the way he breathes out your name, there’s a heart that was threatened with breaking shining in pale blue eyes.

But there’s love in the way he makes love to you that night, and there’s love in the way your fingers dance over the ink traces of his chest again.

There’s love, and you do not dare ask what it made out of him, or what it made out of you.

____ ____ ____

I hope to have taken you by surprise, hopefully more than once lol

Idk if this is any good but it was fun to write, I hope you liked it, and thank you so much for reading!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld

#Youbloodymadgenius1kCelebration #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

156 notes · View notes

joezworld · 3 years

Text

Bismuth

Bismuth - a harmless metal when consumed by humans, is known to have significant hallucinatory effects when introduced to a mechanobiological system such as a locomotive.

Due to its non-fuel state, non-intentional bismuth contamination is rare, but has been known to occur, especially in instances when impurities from lead refining, which include bismuth, are introduced to locomotive fuel sources such as open coal bins or wood piles.

Introduction to diesel locomotives is more complicated, and typically involves being within close proximity to steam locomotive that is burning bismuth-contaminated fuels, at which point the aerosolized mineral can enter their air intake systems. In some cases, fuel contamination can occur, however most known instances of fuel contamination have involved intentional dosing of fuel stocks with either bismuth or bismuth-derived pharmaceuticals (BDP).

The stomach-settling use of bismuth in humans has meant that most locomotive contaminations occur after a well meaning relative or friend introduces a BDP such as Pepto-Bismol into the locomotive’s fuel or water system.

Of course, intentional/recreational ingestion is a known activity, however all reputable sources (J. Small Berries et al) indicate that the hallucinatory events are notable in their inconsistency. The resulting "bad trips" often deter repeat usage.

- An excerpt from: The ABCs of Locomotive Health Care (10th ed., 1984) - J. Bigbooté, J. Whorfin; Yoyodyne Publishing Laboratories, Grover’s Mill, New Jersey.

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

April, 2000

Nobody’s quite sure how the bismuth got into Sodor - presumably it arrived in the shipment of coal from the mainland. The railway bought coal from a broker in London, and their usual shipment of high-quality coal had been lost - quite literally, as nobody could find it - and therefore the broker had scrambled to find more. A Polish metal refinery was found to have some surplus coal, and it was sent on without informing anyone on Sodor of the change.

It arrived at Tidmouth docks on a cargo ship and was promptly sent out to the big stations across the network - Wellsworth, Knapford, Tidmouth, Barrow, and Crovan’s Gate.

The coal trains ran late at night so as to not be in the way, and it meant that most engines would take on the new coal around midday, as the last of the old stocks in the coaling stages was used up.

It took about an hour or so for the last of the old coal in the engine’s tenders to be used up if they were working hard.

This meant that, as the engines rested in the yards after their noon trains, a lot of things started happening...

Tidmouth

Mid-sentence, Gordon’s eyes began to roll into the back of his smokebox. He was still speaking, but he slowly began to stop producing any intelligible sounds. His words turned into a mushy babel of slurred syllables and stuttering clicks as the men began frantically wondering if a locomotive could have a stroke.

Nearby, Thomas giggled dreamily. The pretty pink unicorns that had suddenly appeared on his bufferbeam were prancing about in a most amusing fashion.

---------

Crovan’s Gate

Percy had been undergoing a pressure test when his smoke started turning yellow.

The men had dropped his fire and immediately began an inspection, but not before Wendell was totally enveloped in the thick yellow cloud.

Percy felt like his boiler was inflating and inflating, as though the pressure test would never stop. The men eventually stopped what they were doing as he began ranting and raving about being turned into a zeppelin.

On the other side of the workshop, Wendell was speaking in hushed, manic tones to no-one. Whoever this “Lion” was seemed to be quite concerned for his wellbeing, even if he thought that they were overreacting.

--------

Arlesburgh

The evil diesels were after him, he was sure of it. Look! There was one there! And another! And another!

Well not today! Try and catch this example of Great Western Metal!

The men slowly backed away as Oliver ranted and raved at absolutely nothing. Duck and the Scottish twins watched from a safe distance, and decided not to get involved.

-------

Barrow Sheds

James was past being concerned about the yellow smoke - the little pixies fluttering around his smokebox said that he didn’t have anything to worry about at all.

Delta, sitting next to him in the cloud of yellow smoke, was much more concerned, but not about the smoke itself.

"Jamie, something's wrong."

"What makes you say that?

"I can hear Jefferson Airplane.”

"What's Jefferson Airplane?"

"I don’t know."

-------

Barrow Yards

“Why are you not fixing this?! Don’t just stand there! DO SOMETHING YOU MEATBAGS!” Bear roared at the workmen from within the yellow cloud. He’d woken up deeply congested, and didn’t understand why they were saying he needed to be out of the cloud of yellow smoke - it wasn’t like he could breathe much to begin with, and Henry was in trouble and he clearly needed help and these men wouldn’t do anything!

“Holy shit Bear I can swim” Henry said from whatever la-la-land state he was in.

“That’s nice dear, NOW ONE OF YOU FIX HIM OR I’LL KILL ALL YOU STARTING WITH THE WEAK ONES!”

On the other side of the yard, the men stared at the Hymek, which was bellowing and screaming at a staffing agency billboard on the side of the tracks while Henry belched yellow smoke over the both of them.

-------

Wellsworth

The rails had turned to jelly some time ago. The crossties had begun speaking in the language of the beast. The sky was a deep blood-gray, and the clouds wept for their lost raindrops. The engine watched as his smoke curled away into letters of an unknown alphabet. He was concerned as to how the menaces had managed this, but he wasn’t going to let them win by acknowledging that anything was wrong.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could just make out the signal aspects behind a curtain of iridescent sounds. That was a little bit too dangerous in his opinion, and he resolved to inform the twins that their pranks should not involve signals.

Across the yard, Bill, Ben, and BoCo watched in horror as Edward puffed out of the yard. His pupils were two different sizes, his tongue lolled out of his mouth, he was mumbling and chittering in an indescribable fashion, and his smoke was thick and turning a worrying shade of yellow.

But he was still pulling his train as though nothing was wrong.

-------

Farquhar

The apocalyptic wasteland spread out on all sides. The sun burned and burned until the land was scorched to a godforsaken ash. The river Els was filled with blood. Roving gangs of madmen patrolled the ruins - their war machines littered with the bones of their victims.

Mad Tobias the Brown, last of the North Shed, protector of the Anopha Stone, keeper of the soul of Saint Pedroc, guardian of the survivors, rattled through the wastes with his precious cargo of human lives.

A cry rose up from his faithful warrior bride Henrietta as she sighted a roving gang approach from the south. Their war wagon was the converted husk of an old railcar that he once called a friend, but that was long ago. Now she was merely a convenient vessel for the beasts.

The war music sounded in the distance, and he set off - a confrontation was inadvisable with his charges aboard. His smoke scudded off to one side in the stiff wind as he charged - he would have to pass them at the old loop if he wished to be avoid being trapped in the Stone Mountain, and speed was key to avoid their wicked bone hand-and-a-halves.

As he approached, he bellowed a warning cry to intimate his foe. The corpse of the railcar stared back at him in a rictus grin, but its crew recoiled - as one should when facing off against him.

Daisy and her crew watched in amazement as Toby and Henrietta, wreathed in sickly yellow smoke, roared towards them with the midday workmen's train. They screamed through the passing loop and disappeared into the distance, incomprehensible epithets trailing in their wake.

Inside his cab, Toby's driver had long since given up trying to stop his engine, and was now trying to reign him in so that he didn’t come off the tracks before the fireman could finish dumping the fire.

Inside Henrietta, the guard pulled back on the handbrake so hard that the lever came off in his hand. It didn't work.

Terrified workmen bashed at the radio with their lunch pails, trying to make the Norwegian Death Metal stop playing, but it was no use. The radio kept bellowing out tunes even after its faceplate was smashed in, and began to get even louder.

Toby was eventually brought to a stop near the Kyndley family's home, but Mad Tobias the Brown didn't stop yelling until the last of the coal ash was cleared from his smoke box three hours later.

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

It took most of the day for the bismuth to work itself out of everyone's systems. Nobody at the railroad was quite sure what was wrong, but considering the dull yellow smoke, it was easy to guess that the coal was bad.

The broker was summoned to the island, and when he admitted that the coal was from a random colliery in Poland instead of the high quality American anthracite that the railroad had paid for, he was quickly sent packing - along with the coal!

A new coal merchant was found, and an emergency supply was bought locally to cover the gap, bringing the saga to an end.

Nobody likes to talk about it - except Daisy, who has no trouble mentioning the tale of Mad Tobias the Brown whenever she wants to bring Toby down a peg!

#drugs #drugs drugs drugs #ttte bear #ttte thomas #ttte gordon #ttte henry #ttte edward #ttte james #ttte percy #ttte wendell #ttte oliver #ttte bill and ben #OC: Delta #Comedy #Have a nice trip!#ttte toby #ttte henrietta #fic

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brutal-nemesis · 3 years

Text

E&T: Unfamiliar

Things are finally gonna get LABBY boys, I’m fuckin excited. Also this got so fuckin long so I Apologize

←Previous - Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: noncon touching (like. a lot. but its unsexy), painful magical healing, unsexy nudity (bro just takes a shower it ain’t graphic), emeto mention, drugging, noncon surgery mention

PART II: Monster Without A Name

The things that hit him first were the brightness of the sun and the overwhelming heat. They had teleported into a sort of palace garden, similar to the one they had just left, but at the same time not similar at all. As Erebus was led away, he couldn’t help but look around in terrified fascination. Everything about this place was so different, from the color of the stones to the plants to the way people were dressed, making it clear just how far from home he was. He tried to focus on the allure of seeing so many new things instead of the feeling of isolation that was closing in on him.

Erebus knew that every step he took would lead him closer to his fate, but honestly, all had been lost the moment he had arrived in Taiyorum, so he let Rhys pull him along. He tried to remember the way, but there were so many twists and turns and steps going down and unfamiliar sights that he quickly got lost. Eventually, they stopped in front of a door. “I think I’ve got him from here,” Neteri said, taking the leash from the guard, “thanks, Rhys.” He nodded and left them. Erebus steeled himself as Neteri opened the door and ushered him inside.

The cell was larger than the one in Nathar, and Neteri hadn’t lied when she’d said it would be nicer, but then again that wasn’t a very hard requirement to meet. It had a bed along the right-hand wall and a desk on the left, with a small chest of drawers against the back wall. There was a door at the foot of the bed, though Erebus couldn’t quite see what it led to. He was too caught up in looking around to notice what Neteri was doing until he felt something cold clamp around his ankle. Why had he been expecting not to be chained up again? At least it wasn’t his wrists, and he would’ve been mortified if she had just attached the leash to the wall. Thankfully, she removed both it and the rope around just wrists. He stretched, happy to have his arms free for the first time in days.

“Alright, let’s get you fixed up for good. Do you need help taking your shirt off?” Erebus shook his head and gently pulled it off before sitting down in one of the two chairs in the room. She sat across from him and held out her hand. “Let me do your arm first.” He offered it to her, and she held onto his wrist as she gently unwound the bandage. She inspected the wound and nodded before placing two fingers on one end of the gash. “I know this is gonna hurt, but please try to keep your arm as still as possible.” Erebus nodded, bracing himself as she muttered the spell’s activation word, her fingertips beginning to glow faintly. She traced them slowly down the wound, and he gritted his teeth as an intense, itching pain lit up his arm. Thankfully, it was over soon enough, but he knew there was still a lot more to come.

His back was next, and he couldn’t help but wince as she removed the bandages around his torso, partially because of the pain and partially because the brand hadn’t mysteriously disappeared overnight as he had hoped. She had him turn around, and he hugged the back of the chair tightly as she healed each lash, pressing his forehead against the wood and fighting to keep himself from crying out. It was like he was being whipped all over again, each wound burning with agony as it was closed up. Every time he thought she might be done, she placed her fingers on another wound and the pain came back anew. After what felt like hours, she finally stopped. “You did great, Erebus! I think that was the hardest part, so your chest shouldn’t be as bad. We’re almost there.”

As far as the pain, she wasn’t exactly wrong. The healing of his chest was a little less intense, a little less itchy. But he had watched her start to trace the burns, daring to hope that the healing would erase them completely, and instead saw them morph into very prominent scars. He screwed his eyes shut, he couldn’t watch that symbol get put on him a second time. He gripped the sides of the chair tightly, reminding himself he wasn’t up on that podium, there weren’t hundreds of eyes trained on him, he wasn’t screaming in front of them all. When Neteri was finished, he pulled his shirt back on as quickly as he could, covering up the brand along with the memories.

“There we go! Now,” she stood and smoothed her skirt, “I have unpacking and whatnot to take care of, so I’ll be back in a few hours. In the meantime you can get yourself cleaned up.” She gestured to the closed door and then paused for a moment, narrowing her eyes. “You can, like, do that yourself, right?” Erebus nodded, giving her an odd look. He hadn’t been that pampered. She held her hands up defensively. “Okay, just making sure. Oh, and that chain is enchanted so clothes pass through it, which is great because that means you’re not stuck wearing the same pair of pants for forever! There should be clean clothes in there, by the way.” She pointed at the chest of drawers. “Alright I think that’s it. I’ll be back eventually.”

Once Neteri was gone, Erebus took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He was tempted to just bury his face in the pillow and cry and process everything, but he knew he needed to wash all the blood and dirt off himself first. The door Neteri had pointed to led to a small bathroom. His gaze went to the left first, where there was a sink with a mirror above it.

Upon seeing his reflection in the mirror, Erebus flinched. It was the first time he’d seen himself since his capture, not that there was much left that he recognized. Gone was his long, beautiful hair, his fine clothes, his prince’s circlet, and the smile that he’d always worn so effortlessly. The person looking back at him was defeated, collared like an animal, his eyes filled with grief and dried blood smeared around his mouth. And while his short hair didn’t necessarily look bad, it still wasn’t him in the slightest. Maybe Erebus really had died two days ago, and this was just...some other person looking back at him. Unable to bear the sight anymore, he tore his gaze away and looked around the rest of the bathroom.

He didn’t see a bathtub, so he wasn’t exactly sure how Neteri expected him to wash himself. There was a drain in the floor near the wall across from the sink with a couple bottles of soap nearby. And there, on the wall, there was some sort of lever. He hesitantly pulled it, unsure if it was a door handle or what, and suddenly found himself being sprayed with water. He cried out and jumped back to find that the water didn’t follow him. It appeared to be coming out of an oddly shaped piece of metal protruding from the wall that he hadn’t noticed before. It was like...an intense little rainstorm. While part of him found this new technology interesting, the other part was disappointed he wouldn’t even get the comfort of a bath.

Regardless, he still wanted to get clean. He removed his now wet clothes and stepped back into the water. It was freezing cold, but he soon figured out that pulling the lever further down made the water warmer. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he started washing his hair. He’d always loved taking time to care for it, and now it barely took a minute. It shouldn’t be worth getting upset over, and he knew it would grow back, but he couldn’t help missing it. He just didn’t feel like himself without it. And as he moved onto washing his body, the feeling lingered.

Before he knew it he was scrubbing furiously, not just trying to get off the blood and grime, but the feeling of hands, ropes, chains, that he could still feel trapping him, forcing him towards this destiny he didn’t want any part of. But he couldn’t get it to go away, even as the physical reminders of his captivity washed off. No, that wasn’t entirely true either. His wrists were still chafed, his ankle was still chained to the wall, his chest was still branded, his neck still had that horrible collar around it, and his mouth was still very much missing a tongue. He couldn’t forget where he was or what had happened to him for a single second.

At some point he’d gotten off everything he could, so pulled the lever to stop the little rainstorm and dried off with the towel hanging on a nearby hook. He pulled a clean set of clothes out of the chest of drawers and got dressed. They weren’t anywhere near as nice as what he was used to, but they were an improvement compared to what he’d had on before. He collapsed on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. This was it, huh? Day after day he was going to wake up here and go through...experiments. He shuddered, pushing the thought out of his mind. Dwelling on it would only make him upset, and did not want Neteri coming back and seeing him sobbing. He’d already cried in front of her once today, and that was pathetic enough.

Upon searching the desk, he found a blank notebook and a pencil, so he busied himself with drawing cats and plants and writing his name. He was never the best artist, and people always told him the way he wrote the “r” in his name was strange, but it was something else to focus on. After a while, Neteri came back with a notebook of her own and looked at his scribblings with mild interest.

“Was that left in the desk? Huh. Well, whatever. I’m going to need you to stand up and take your shirt off again.” Erebus simply leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “What? It’s nothing painful, I just need to make some observations and take some measurements. And if you don’t cooperate I’ll just get Rhys again and we can take you down to the lab and strap you to the table.” She shrugged. “Either way.” Erebus sighed in defeat and did as she asked. He desperately wanted a break from being tied up and manhandled, and what Neteri wanted, even if it was a little humiliating, was harmless enough. At least it seemed that way, until she started.

Erebus had felt a bit objectified when Neteri had looked him over the first time that they met, but that was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. She was methodically scanning practically every part of him, making measurements and taking notes all the while. She grabbed and stroked and pulled and prodded with no regard whatsoever for his personal space. When she moved to study his chest, he leaned back, but she hooked a finger through the ring in his collar and pulled him close again. He shuddered as she ran her fingers over the brand, she had to be aware of how incredibly uncomfortable she was making him given the way she seemed to be writing down his every reaction.

He thought that’d be the worst of it, but once again he thought that too soon. Neteri pushed him so he was seated on the bed and started studying his face. He tried to turn away, but she grabbed his chin and forced him to face her. There was nothing he could do but stare intently at the corner of the ceiling as she pried his mouth open, no doubt studying what remained of his tongue. She even ran a finger along his teeth, paying particular attention to his canines. He desperately hoped that whatever she had planned wouldn’t involve messing with them. She moved to his eyes next, pulling at his eyelids and turning his head to force him to look her in the eye. He gave up trying to avoid her gaze and stared back. The way she was looking at him...it was as if she didn’t see him, just his eyes and his face, but not Erebus.

Suddenly, her eyes narrowed and she leaned back. “Why is your face so red? Wait...am I making you uncomfortable? I am, aren’t I?” Erebus instinctively smacked himself in the face with the palm of his hand, dragging it down a bit before nodding. She was looking at him that closely and just now noticed? What had she even been writing down, then? No, he didn’t want to know, he was certain it would just make him feel even more objectified. “Sorry, I just got sort of caught up in my note taking. I think I’ve got enough now. That was it for today so I’ll just...go.” Right then, as if on cue, Erebus’s stomach growled loudly.

“Oh wait, I haven’t fed you at all today, have I?” Erebus gave her an incredulous look and shook his head. “Shoot, sorry about that. I’ll run and get you something. Be right back!” She called over her shoulder as she dashed out of the room. Erebus sighed. Better late than never, but seriously? You’d think after how excited she was to...get ahold of him, she’d be a little more on top of things. His gaze fell on the notebook, and he belatedly realized he could’ve been using it to actually communicate with Neteri. The majority of the time he’d spent with her had been after... what she did to him...so being able to talk to her by any other means than making faces hadn’t even occurred to him. He spent a bit debating what he even wanted to say, but he eventually landed on a question he wasn’t even sure if he wanted the answer to.

When Neteri came back, profusely apologizing for her oversight, he handed her the notebook before he started eating. She squinted at it. “Is this supposed to be the letter ‘r’?” He sighed and nodded. “Your handwriting is weird. Anyway, to actually answer your question of what’s going to happen to you...I think a lot of things we’re just going to have to play it by ear. Nothing beyond that’s set in stone beyond the fact that you’ve got your first procedure tomorrow.” Erebus jumped out of his chair, backing up a few steps. His first what was when??! “I probably shouldn’t have told you that because now you’re just going to freak out. You know what, I’m gonna go grab you something, so finish your food.”

Erebus shakily tried to do as Neteri asked while she was gone, but fear and nervousness were starting to make him feel ill. He forced down as much as he could, knowing he really needed the nutrients. The word procedure kept echoing in his mind over and over. He’d known she was planning on doing that sort of thing to him, but it had seemed like some vague, horrific future that wouldn’t come to pass, and suddenly it was happening tomorrow, and any hope of rescue had been ripped away, and it was inevitable, the procedure was tomorrow, the procedure was tomorrow, the procedure was tomorrow-

“Hey, hey, you’re alright, you’re gonna be okay.” He jumped as Neteri started stroking his back; he hadn’t even heard her come in. “There, there, let’s get you to bed.” She helped him stand and walked him over the bed, forcing him to lie down. “This will help you sleep, so drink it, okay?” she pressed a small vial of dark blue liquid to his lips. He hesitated a bit, but ultimately drank it. As much as he didn’t want tomorrow to come, he’d rather get whatever hellish thing she had planned over with instead of agonizing all night. He closed his eyes as drowsiness overtook him, trying his best to pretend that the person stroking his hair wasn’t going to cut him open tomorrow.

Tags: @dramaticcollapse @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump @galaxywhump @mnmlover2002 @tears-and-lilies

#i wrote something #erebus & terror #erebus #neteri #whump #whump fic #lady whumper #noncon touching cw #painful healing #drugging #magical healing #emeto mention #this chapter of: neteri please act like a normal human person what the hell are you doing #maam you're in charge of a whole boy now please do a better job taking care of him #neteri really said ''personal space who?''#if you know what part ii is named after: shhhhhh #also: is rhys partially based on fucking wess from nailed it? perhaps #he is summoned when Needed #this also turned out like super long wtf #i can't believe this and ch5 were originally gonna be combined #they're both 2000+ words long :|#i didn't even have that much of an idea for this chapter!! just the healing and the measurement bits #but then it was just a lot of Erebus Has Emotions About Himself #bitch calm down you only lost literally everything and were publicly branded and taken away from your home #ch7 will be the end of an era 😔 those who ive told know what i mean #but it opens up Possibilities and whatnot also it is needed #i am in fact a more productive writer when im in school because i write to procrastinate on hw 🙃#seriously it's a problem im dying squirtle #i will soon share the erebus handwriting sample so we can all make fun of the way he writes his ''r''s #im sorry if this feels like disconnected at parts sometimes i have trouble assembling the monster

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imagine-darksiders · 3 years

Text

Homesick - Chapter 2

Behind the door.

Warnings: implied child abuse, abusive parents, blood, nosebleeds, angst, themes of childhood trauma, ptsd

Tags: Darksiders, DeathxAzrael, hurt/comfort, angst, Reader, Found family, Reader needs a hug

Chapter 1

---

“What lays beyond that door?”

Azrael's innocent question causes you to stiffen and your steps falter on the landing, knowing precisely to which door he's referring, but unwilling to even spare it a backwards glance.

The momentary delay hardly lasts for more than a second and goes seemingly unnoticed by the angel, whose gaze appears too focused on the locked, mahogany door that stands quiet and guiltless at the furthest end of your landing. Hanging back near the top of the staircase however, with eyes sharp and turned just enough in your direction that they catch the hitching of your chest, Death does notice.

Then, he blinks, and you're suddenly twisting your head over a shoulder to look beyond Azrael at the door in question, a smile on your lips but not in your eyes.

“Oh, that's just a storage cupboard,” you say casually, waving a dismissive hand through the air and continuing your journey to the opposite side of the house, “I've been in and out of there all week stacking boxes of junk up to the ceiling. Now, come this way, all the best human-y stuff is stock-piled in my bedroom.”

You're too quick to disregard the door, too eager in turning to walk towards your room on stiff legs and Death wishes the angel would turn to look at you so he might also see what the Horseman sees, if only to confirm that he isn't imagining things.

Alas, letting out an intrigued little hum, Azrael clasps his hands loosely behind his back and sweeps after you, all the while pivoting his head this way and that to take in everything your humble home has to offer.

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

You had so nearly forgotten what the joy of discovery looks like in another person. To see the eyes of someone else grow wide and bright with unbridled wonder at a world you've long since lost a taste for.

Azrael's fascination at the most mundane of human objects manages to put a genuine smile on your face, though the ensuing pain still throbs like the beat of an insistent drum every time your cheeks press against your bruised eye.

Luckily, the angel appears to have missed your subtle wince.

After first having dragged him away from your television, you've managed to introduce him to many of humanity's other wonders that lay dotted around your bedroom.

Before long, Death had even slunk inside to join you both, taking up the mantle of an uninterested observer and absently perusing your book collection in the corner whilst keeping a surreptitious eye on the goings on of his companions.

You've perched yourself comfortably in a bean bag, content to simply sit back and observe whilst Azrael explores your room, his wide, white wings folded neatly against his back in order to spare some of your ornaments from being knocked off their shelves.

“This... ursine mammal,” he says, pausing beside your bed and poking a finger into the fur of an old, stuffed bear sitting atop your pillow, “Does it serve some purpose?”

You're too preoccupied with fighting back a laugh to answer him right away, and by the time you realise he's watching you expectantly, Death pipes up in your stead, cutting off any explanation you might have offered.

“I imagine it's only there for decoration,” he muses, casting a critical eye over your bookcase and the dozens of unread stories scattered about on the shelves, “But then, I have to wonder if half the things in this room aren't just ornamentation.”

Knowing what he's implying, you spare the back of his head a scowl. It isn't as though you've had a lot of time to read those books he gave you, not between rebuilding your own home and helping humanity come to terms with life post-apocalypse.

“Ah!” Azrael's head shoots up and he tears his eyes from the bear, glancing towards you instead. “It is symbolic, no? In resembling a most ferocious predator, this bear represents the perfect guard for your home.”

He looks so damn pleased with himself, you almost don't bother to correct him, instead wrestling your grin into a pensive frown and nodding slowly.

“Uh, sure! That is a pretty... exciting way to look at teddy bears.” Hopping to your feet, you make your way over to the bed and sweep a few of Azrael's primary feathers aside, picking up the toy bear and squeezing it to your chest. “But mostly humans use these for comfort at night, when we sleep. We usually get given them as children. And, as we grow older, I... guess we just get too attached to get rid of them. Most humans keep their childhood toys long into adulthood.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Death huffs, shaking his head with a smile hidden beneath the bone-mask, “You humans will get attached to anything that sits still for long enough.”

Azrael, on the other hand, looks as though you've just revealed to him one of humanity's greatest secrets. Rubbing his chin in thought, he says, “Remarkable! I've heard that humans are rather famous for the bonds they forge with other species, yet I never imagined that could extend to inanimate objects as well.”

“Yeah, you'd better believe it,” you smirk, placing the bear down on your pillow once more, “Someday I'll have to tell you about the woman who married the Eiffel Tower.”

At once, the Archangel blinks hard, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hair line. “A tower? Surely that’s a jape?”

So perplexed is his expression, you throw back your head and let out a bark of delighted laughter. “What are you, Shakespeare? Nobody says ‘jape’ anymore, Azrael!”

Off on his own side of your little bedroom, Death's neck twists around slightly to regard both you and the angel as you engage in a light-hearted back and forth about the use of archaic vocabulary. He doesn't even realise that one corner of his mouth has begun lifting at the sight.

There is a truth about the Horseman that even he is reluctant to acknowledge, and that is that the constant slew of bad things happening in the Universe is... wearing. It’s wearing. To be on a constant path that always seems to lead towards battle or tragedy? Sometimes it feels as though his entire existence has merely consisted of one battle after another.

He saves one world, only for another to be torn apart, he destroys a species, and another asks him to fight their war for them, he helps the makers but in doing so, inadvertently kills their elder. Century after century - a millennia of bloody battles and terrible sacrifices and trying to keep his siblings safe - If he ever stopped to think about it...

Death’s eyes slip slowly shut.

He has worked... so hard, hasn’t he? Is it really so wrong if he enjoys these moments of fleeting repose?

All of a sudden, a strangled sound leaves Azrael's throat and Death is yanked from his peaceful reverie. “Y/n!?” the angel exclaims, his expression shifting to horrified in less than a second, “You're bleeding!”

Apparently, mentioning your name and blood in the same sentence is enough to get Death's voice to crack as he whips around properly and barks, “What!?”

Baffled, you raise a hand to your nose, dabbing at a sticky wetness gathered there whilst the taste of salty liquid drips onto your upper lip. “Oh, so I am,” you observe casually, only to have a pair of chilly hands curl unexpectedly around your forearms.

Without warning, the terrifying visage of the Horseman is looming mere inches from your face and in another instant, one of his hands presses itself to your forehead and firmly – albeit gently – tips it backwards.

“Um... Death, we've talked about this. Personal space, remember?”

The Horseman remains eerily silent as he stares transfixed at the blood oozing from your nose and you squirm uncomfortably when the grip he has on your arm begins to grow even tighter. Meanwhile, his wordlessness allows Azrael to fret aloud in the background.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” the angel mutters, pacing back and forth behind Death, never tearing his eyes from the red straining your face, “You shouldn't be having all this excitement. You should be resting.”

It's difficult to hold back your groan of exasperation as you lift your arms and knock Death's hands aside, stepping out of his reach.

“Oh for - It's just a nosebleed! Honestly, what has gotten into you two?” With a hefty sigh, you skirt around the rigid Nephilim, dodge one of Azrael's wings as it tries to curl instinctively around you and march into your ensuite bathroom.

Almost immediately, the angel tries to follow, but he swiftly has the door pushed shut in his face before he can enter and soon, they hear your voice filtering out to them from the other side. “I'm not a baby, guys! Nosebleeds are no big deal, it's just happening because of... well, you know.”

Azrael's stomach twists itself into knots at the sight of yet another locked door standing between himself and his human friend. He's about to call out for you to let him see the damage when an icy chill sweeps across the room and he turns, his mouth falling open slightly at the sight of Death staring at him through unseeing eyes.

The old Nephilim's body has gone completely still and there's a haunted look about him, as though he's lost, or perhaps trapped in another time, another place.

“Horseman?” Azrael murmurs uncertainly, feeling the cold prickle at the hairs on the base of his neck. Seconds pass and he receives no answer. Hesitant now, the archangel reaches towards Death's shoulder and, when he isn't immediately shoved away, places a hand on the frigid, solid muscle that bunches under his gentle touch. “Death,” he tries again, and this time the Horseman's head snaps up to stare at him, as if only just realising he's there.

The angel ducks his head to better catch Death's eye, his voice soft enough that only the two of them can hear it. “Are you alright, old friend?”

A long silence stretches between them with only the faint sound of running water from your bathroom tap to fill it.

Then, giving a start, Death roughly shrugs the comforting hand off his shoulder and stalks past the angel towards your window, leaning his elbows heavily against the sill and stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Azrael's concern. He doesn't think the archangel has ever been that close to him before, close enough that the subtle scent of old books and clean linen invaded his nose and chased away the awful stench of your blood, effectively leaving his mind clear once again.

'Idiot,' he chastises himself, eyes still wide behind the bone mask. How could he have frozen like that? In front of Azrael no less. Creator, he'd never live that one down. He had – for lack of a better word – panicked, and it's as embarrassing to admit to himself as it is to have been caught panicking. But...

The sight of your blood... The smell of it, sweet and strong enough that it even settled on his tastebuds...

It's pathetic, really. He is Death. He's seen and caused far more bloodshed than arguably any being in any realm. So why then does your spilled blood hold his dead heart in such a cruel and unforgivably tight chokehold?

The redundancy of taking a calming breath isn't lost on him, yet he does it anyway, tipping his head up to peer out of your window, chest rising and falling with motions he could only have picked up after spending so much time around you.

It's begun to rain, he notes idly. Tiny droplets of water patter down onto the dusty window panes and Death follows the path of one until it merges with several others and is lost in the fray.

Down in the streets below, many passers-by have dived for shelter, yet there are still two figures who remain. One is an angel, whose golden complexion shimmers when raindrops trickle steadily down his face. He's standing in the shadow of a water-logged bus stop and beside him, leaning just a little too close, is a serpentine demon, scales black and glittering like obsidian. The odd pair rest almost shoulder to shoulder underneath the bus stop's awning, each sharing a brief respite from the rain with what was once a well-loathed enemy.

Death blinks upon seeing that their hands are intertwined. Dainty, golden fingers curl loosely around clumsier claws and suddenly, the Horseman feels as though he's intruding on their secret moment, so he turns back to face your room.

Azrael has drifted closer once again and there's a knowing expression on his face that causes Death to frown. Sure enough, the archangel spares your bathroom door a hasty glance before he looks at the Horseman once more. “...Death,” he says slowly, “It's... all right, you know. If seeing Y/n’s blood upset you-”

Hackles are raised in half a second, a set of sharp teeth clack together and Death hisses, “You think I'm upset?”

Judging by the flat look he receives, that is precisely what the archangel thinks.

Despite the obvious vehemence behind Death's tone, he's careful to keep his voice down, ever mindful that you're only a room over. Perhaps getting defensive isn't the best idea.

“There is no shame in it, Horseman,” the angel coaxes softly, “Y/n is my friend as well. There has already been far too much human blood spilled this century.” He casts another, baleful glance towards your bathroom, quietly adding, “I didn't think I would be seeing it again, not this soon. And especially not from our human.”

...Our human.

Death is unnerved by how natural that sounds coming off Azrael's tongue.

Expertly, the Horseman wills his shoulders to slump and his muscles to relax, then, with an unmistakable air of indifference, he folds his arms across his broad chest and turns himself deliberately away from the archangel, glowering at your bedroom wall.

And Azrael, wise enough to read the standoffish behaviour for what it is, allows his mouth to fall shut because he knows that, as far as Death is concerned, the conversation is over.

He has a care not to release a weary sigh. But with you shutting him out physically and the Horseman shutting him out verbally, it's difficult for even the composed archangel to keep exasperation at bay.

Just then, your voice calls out to them from the other side of the door. “Ugh, sorry about this guys. It's slowing down, but it hasn't stopped yet. I'll just be a minute!”

“So long as you're all right,” Azrael replies.

When he receives no response from you and no further input from Death, he lets his head drop into a disappointed nod, pressing his lips together. Suddenly, his presence feels a little too big for the space he's occupying. He needs to think.

Azrael leaves your bedroom with a far heavier heart than he'd gone in with, raking his fingers through fine, white hair and expelling a soft breath from his lungs, as if that might alleviate the weight settling across his chest.

So far, this first visit to your home has not gone as he'd hoped it would. Through no fault of your own, mind. But trying to focus on taking in everything you show him whilst he knows you're in more pain than you're letting on is woefully distracting. That's without even mentioning the creeping sense of unease that has been hanging over him ever since he first stepped foot through your front door.

Briefly, Azrael wonders if Death had noticed the way your breath hitched slightly and your reply had an almost imperceptible, underlying tremor when he asked you what lay beyond the door at the end of your landing. He'd have to ask the Horseman about that later, when he's in a more talkative mood.

Already, the archangel can feel the beginnings of a frown forging crevasses down the centre of his forehead. He composes himself in another breath and finally lifts his eyes from the carpet, only to stop in his tracks.

That door – that unassuming door to your cupboard lays ahead of him, quiet and solid as all doors should be, just sitting there under a flickering light bulb, as though it had been patiently waiting for him to notice it.

And notice it, he does, because something about the door has changed since he saw it last, something so obvious, yet also entirely unsettling.

Where it had once been shut tight, now it stands ever so slightly ajar.

Despite everything in him screaming that he must respect the privacy of his host, Azrael's curiosity grows too bold and he finds himself treading silently down your landing, his shoes making no sound on the grubby, cream carpet. Drawing to a halt, the angel's keen gaze sweeps over the wooden door, taking in hairline cracks and mottled rot that a hundred years has left upon it like battle scars on a warrior's face. Slowly, he roves his eyes down to the dull, brass door handle and he immediately falters, doing a double-take.

Sitting atop the handle is a very noticeable, very thick layer of dust.

His brows knit together until they nearly touch and he reaches out to swipe a finger delicately along the brass. When he pulls away, he lifts his hand for an inspection and, sure enough, the pad of his forefinger is now sporting the same, grey substance.

'Why would a door you claimed to use recently have so much dust upon the handle?' The feeling of unease that had been stealthily keeping to the back of his mind now pokes its head out a little more, creeping forwards, daring him to acknowledge it.

'Something's wrong...' a quiet voice tells him.

Azrael's hand reaches out once more, except this time, it curls around the handle entirely and rests there for a moment as the angel's mind starts to race. 'Y/n.... Are you hiding something from us?'

As soon as the thought enters his head, he can't shake it loose.

Yes - he trusts you - he knows you'd have no reason to lie to him, and especially not to the Horseman. And yet... Clearly there is something beyond this door that you're trying to divert their attention from and whatever it is has you spooked.

Feeling more and more like a common criminal, Azrael keeps one ear on the room behind him and slowly begins to twist the door handle, wincing when its rusty springs catch and squeak in protest.

His wings shiver with anticipation as he pushes the door open.

What awaits him on the other side is decidedly not a storage cupboard...

“A... bedchamber?” he murmurs to himself.

Within an instant, he's hit by an oppressive wave of must and wood rot. The smell spills like liquid from the room and seeps into your hallway, causing the archangel's lips to curl, though he's quick to smooth his expression out again because there's something far worse lingering below the initial stench, something that – even after a hundred years – still clings to the peeling wallpaper and broken, dust-choked bed in the corner of the room.

It isn't quite magic, more like the residue of a dark and terrible memory. Azrael knows as well as any angel that memories can be immensely powerful things and capable of haunting a place long after the living are dead and gone. Hesitating, he takes a moment to steel himself before stepping over the threshold and entering that old, foreboding bedroom.

At once, he notices that, as with the door's handle, absolutely everything is covered in a thick layer of grime and dust, the television on the wall, the various, glass bottles that stand on a table at the room's centre, amidst which sits a single, yellowing glass.

Against the wishes of his own nose, Azrael takes a brief sniff at the air and grimaces.

Alcohol.

Even the most pious of angels would recognise it.

He dismissively turns his attention from the bottles and glides over towards a worn dresser that stands to the left of the bed, a bed that stinks of an odour he desperately tries to ignore. Upon the dresser are a vast array of what you;d once called 'photographs,' all of which sit inside basic, wooden frames. Inquisitive, Azrael bends down and peers at them, a soft smile worming across his face when he sees a familiar human grinning back up at him.

You couldn't be much older than four or five, but he'd recognise you at any age. It seems even as a child, you possessed that same, mischievous spark in your eyes.

You're standing alone, and in spite of a clear gap where a tooth has fallen out, you're beaming up at the camera so hard, he imagines your cheeks had to have hurt. In fact, the more Azrael inspects the photo, the more he thinks your expression most resembles a grimace, not a smile. He shrugs it off however, and moves on. After all, the facial structure of humans is such that they're capable of expressions far more complex than those of angels or demons. Perhaps he’s only misreading it.

The next picture sees you looking a few years older, sitting in the lap of a tall, angular man wearing a white shirt that looks to have been frequently stained by all manner of substances whilst his face is stretched into a grin that makes Azrael's skin crawl. Captured in stillness, it looks menacing and shark-like. Worse still is the large hand that seems to have secured itself like a vice around your thigh, squeezing noticeably into the little, blue leggings you'd worn that day.

You aren't smiling as widely in this photograph....

The archangel's face begins to fall as well.

Humming, he moves on to the next picture and in an instant, that creeping unease suddenly rings in his head like an alarm bell.

Again, you're older here, perhaps early into your adolescence, and the smile you'd sported before is barely there at all. The same man is standing behind you this time, and his long, gangly fingers are clamped down over your too-small shoulders, fingernails digging so hard into the bare skin, the resulting indents are even picked up by the camera.

Your lopsided wince that could be mistaken for a smile at a glance shows off one side of your mouth and in it, Azrael can clearly see that you're missing a tooth.

He may not be the most well-versed on human biology, but he's definitely heard that children only lose the same tooth once. And that the process is a natural one.

Through the lense of the camera, your younger counterpart seems to peer up past the glass frame, past the fabric of time and space and straight into Azrael's misty, pale eyes, a silent yet clear plea in the tilt of your brows and the whites of your knuckles.

'Help me.'

All at once, the archangel feels sick. He staggers backwards, away from the dresser and doesn't even notice the golden halo on his back is thrumming with protective magics, pushing them outwards to envelope your entire house.

He doesn't need Jamaerah's second sight to know that you were afraid of that man who's eyes are stained the same colour as yours. Hazarding a guess as to why you were afraid causes Azrael's throat to tighten.

Swallowing hard, he tries to regain his composure. The archangel has always considered rationality to be one of the greatest weapons in his arsenal and if there was ever a time to use it, that time is now.

'Perhaps... I am mistaken,' he reassures himself, 'I don’t know human customs nearly as well as I-’

“Azrael?”

The angel gives a start and jerks his head around to face the door, only to find Death eclipsing it, his eyes blazing like twin fires.

Stepping forwards into the room, he hisses, “What are you doing in here?”

The Horseman is quite certain he's never seen Azrael look so guilty.

Instead of giving him an answer though, the angel slowly breathes, “Where is Y/n?” Soon, he droops in relief when Death throws a thumb over his shoulder and replies, “Still in the bathing room, tending to a bloody nose... You didn't answer my question.”

Beckoning the Horseman closer, Azrael keeps his voice to a hushed whisper and holds the last photograph up in front of him.

“What do you make of this?”

Azrael's behaviour strikes him as so uncharacteristically odd and secretive, Death actually hurries over to him and snatches the picture frame from his hands, making an effort not to appear curious about the room he's never been inside. The angel watches raptly as Death scans the photographs with his luminous, orange eyes. Then, all of a sudden, the Horseman's fingers tighten around the little, wooden frame, hard enough to make it splinter and Azrael knows his worst fears are being realised. He hadn't imagined it.

Death sees it too.

“You guys shouldn't be in here.”

A tiny voice, low and trembling calls from the doorway and the angel's gaze snaps up. Death, in the meantime, remains too fixated on the photograph to bother acknowledging your presence.

Azrael drifts towards you cautiously, as though you'll bolt at any second. He tries to decide whether it would be better to apologise for invading your privacy or ask you why you look so terrified.

“Y/n,” he starts, paying attention to the way your hands turn over one another incessantly, “We were only-”

“... How... How did you get in? The door was - it was locked! You can't be in here... Get out!” Your voice raises in pitch. There are tears leaking from your bruised eye, swiftly turning the skin underneath it slick and shiny and there’s still a trace of blood underneath your nose.

Death finally lowers his gaze from the photograph and holds you captive under a wide and menacing stare. “A storage room, was it?” he asks curtly, showing you the picture clutched between his ever-tightening fingers.

The moment you lay eyes on it, your back goes rigid and all the blood drains from your face. “Put that down!” you demand and lift your foot as if to take a step inside the room, but as soon as you cross over the threshold, you seem to remember something, and quickly jerk yourself backwards, stumbling into the hallway again and sucking down a ragged gasp, blurting, “Just – Just don't touch it!”

“Why not?” Death drawls and tilts his head to one side, calculating, “It can't be that important to you. You've had it locked in this storage cupboard for these past two years.”

He's pushing you, Azrael realises with a sinking feeling, he's trying to provoke you into an honest reaction, no doubt. The archangel doesn't like it, but he likes the look of that man in the photograph even less.

“That's none of your business!” you snap, heart pounding like a jackhammer against your ribs. Unfortunately, your response only seems to stir something in the Horseman, who draws his head back as though you'd struck him a physical blow and he growls, “I hate to disappoint you, but it is my business where your welfare is concerned.”

“My welfare stopped being your concern about two years ago!”

Death falls silent, jaw clenching.

He'd be remiss to say that your comment hadn't struck at a place he guards jealously. He's painfully aware of the angel's eyes burning a hole into the side of his head and he nearly squirms at the pitying look he's receiving.

It would seem that Azrael knows him a little too well.

“You never once stopped being my concern...” the Horseman mumbles, his gaze moving down to the image in his hand. A younger, smaller you peers back at him with woe caught like sleep-dust behind your eyelashes. Death's eyes shoot back up to you again, the softness gone from his voice when he growls, “Why did you lie to me?”

Tensions are high enough that Azrael doesn't think it prudent to mention you'd lied to him as well.

Apparently, a direct confrontation was not the best way to deal with this delicate situation, a fact that becomes clear when you cinch your jaw shut for a moment, gaze flickering to and fro between the angel and the Horseman.

Seeing two of your most trusted friends standing in his bedroom with a symbol of your shame and your trauma held quite literally in Death's grasp sends your heart rate skyrocketing, fear like poison dripping down into your stomach. You can hardly believe they'd invade your privacy like this. Death especially, who knows better than anyone the necessity for keeping some secrets buried.

He doesn't need to learn about that part of your history - neither of them do. You don't want to have them worrying. And God forbid they should pity you.

Squaring your shoulders, you spin about on a heel and begin to march purposefully down your landing to the stairs.

“Where do you think you're going?!” Death barks after you.

Chest heaving, you pause on the first step and cast a heavy frown over your shoulder at the Horseman, matching his ferocious gaze without a single blink. “If you won't leave that room,” you tell him, “then I'll leave this house. And I'll thank you both to be gone by the time I get back.”

And just like that, you continue to descend your staircase and disappear below the wooden balustrades. Seconds later and there's an almighty 'slam' that signals you've had an altercation with the front door before leaving through it.

For some time, the house is weighed down under a blanket of silence as the pair of unearthly beings are left to stand in the aftershocks of their actions.

“Oh dear..” Azrael's stare is vacant, worried, and he has several fingertips pressed to his lips. “I fear I've reopened an old wound..”

“No. This... isn't your fault,” the Horseman sighs, “I should have addressed this sooner. I've known for some time there was something Y/n didn't want me to know. And, I suppose, I'd always suspected that this room might lead to some answers.”

Taken aback, Azrael turns a mystified look onto the Nephilim. He'd expected Death to lay the blame upon his feathery shoulders, after all, he was the one who first ventured into this so called 'storage cupboard' and upset the proverbial applecart. Still, he finds it somewhat odd that the Horseman – a nosy creature if ever one walked the nine realms – hasn't ever tried to see for himself what lay beyond the door. Tilting his head, the angel asks, “You never thought to investigate?”

At the question, Death averts his gaze and shrugs one of his pale shoulders. “Admittedly, no, I did not.”

“Well... Why?” Azrael presses, though he already has an inkling.

After a moment of frowning pensively at the photo in his hands, the Horseman turns to look at him and he's once again thrown off by the level of emotion in those wild, striking eyes. Death really has grown since knowing you.

“I never brought it up because....”

“.... You didn't want to jeopardise your friendship,” Azrael finishes for him softly, and Death is only grateful that he didn't have to say it himself out loud.

At the same time, the two of them peer back at the photograph and the archangel is surprised at himself for the anger that boils in his lungs at the sight of that man’s hands on you. Death however, isn’t in the least bit surprised at the presence of his own rage.

“Horseman...,” Azrael says, his voice eerily calm, “You don’t supposed.... Y/n might be trying to hide something else, do you?”

"The bruise...”

Furious, orange eyes meet cool and misty white.

“It isn’t out of the question,” Azrael breathes, “A random attack from human zealots? Or-”

“- Or something a bit closer to home,” Death finishes as he tosses the photo onto the nearby bed and turns to face the door.

Outside, rain continues to hammer relentlessly on the house whilst a streak of lightening illuminates the bedroom and the two, imposing beings inside, one with dark magics crackling at his fingertips, and the other with a halo of solid gold on his back that thrums with violent energy as the glyphs on his wings begin to glow electric blue.

Without a word, the Angel of Death and the Grim Reaper slip from your house and stride out into the coming storm, their ancient minds focused solely on tracking down their human.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #Azrael #Death #Reader #abuse #child abuse #angst #Angel #Nephilim #Horseman of the Apocalypse #Hurt/comfort #found family #demon #guardian angels

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years

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Something Familiar

Chapter 2: Lessons in Good Faith Tw: PTSD and mentions of torture and death

Living with Daniel was a lesson in many things. A lesson in patience, trust, and it was a constant trial in checking is biases. Daniel was one of the few good humans, and Silas’s fear still ran unchecked. He knew it would take time to work through all of his baggage, and that Daniel was willing to wait. The thing was that Silas wanted to trust him, but couldn’t because there was still too much in the way. Daniel had even given him space after they sealed the contract. Silas bore the mark of it on the inside of his left wrist. A small circle of red, yellow, and blue lining. Daniel had the same on his left wrist as well. It marked them as equals, but it still felt like imprisonment to Silas. He was grateful for the week alone though. It gave him time to get used to his human shape again. He spent a lot of his time on the upstairs balcony watching the world go by with out him. Being outside like this was something he hadn’t been able to do for years. He would have preferred to change shape and wander, maybe even fly; but he was still on the mend and under strict orders not to shift unless it was an emergency. Daniel wasn’t here to stop him. He could have run away, and yet he stayed. Like a good Familiar.

When Daniel came back Silas’s private moments gained a witness, and his nightmares gained an exit. Daniel was always gentle when he woke Silas. He made sure he was genuinely awake and then let him come back to the real world on his own. He would offer to listen and Silas would always turn him down. There were nights that were worse. Nights when he didn’t dream, but remembered. The sleep he got was always more restful on those nights, but waking up always hurt worse. He woke up buried under the weight of all the things he should have done; could have done if he was a better person. On these mornings the only thing he wanted was space to think. So he would quietly make himself coffee and head up to the balcony. Daniel always came up eventually, and he usually brought breakfast with him. He would set the tray down on the small glass table and take a moment to observe Silas. He never said was he was looking for, but Silas assumed he found it because he would go back inside after a while. As a healer it wasn’t in Daniel’s nature to leave things alone, but he seemed to understand that Silas needed time to himself every once in a while. It was something Silas was grateful for. Someday he would let Daniel in, he deserved to know what he had gotten stuck with.

He woke suddenly from a dead sleep and sighed. He could still see Connor clearly in his mind, the fear in his eyes as they were separated almost felt accusing now. He should have stayed. He should have done a lot of things, but he was a coward and ran away instead. Silas got up with a practiced silence and started on his coffee. The house was still dark, but he had the kitchen layout memorized. By the time his coffee was ready he could use the early rays of dawn to make it up to the balcony. Today was going to be long and painful. He leaned against the front railing of the balcony to watch the sunrise and let his thoughts run loose with him. If he got it out of his system now, then maybe he could be something close to composed by the time Daniel came up to check on him. So for now, he would let himself remember. They were good things at first. His childhood, play fighting with his brothers. Learning the importance of the ancient magic they carried with them. The rush of freedom that came from knowing a thought was all it took to become any creature he wanted. The sacred bind that came with choosing a patron mage. There was a complexity that came with choosing to be a Familiar. It was a bond based on sharing strength and it lasted a lifetime. Different from a contract.

He remembered the day everything changed. The day the world as he understood it would come to an end. It was a normal day, he and his brothers woke up and did their chores, but never made it back to the house. Traps had been set in the night and each of them fell victim to one. He remembered waking up in the dark and in pain, surrounded by everyone from his village. All of them had been taken. They were given a week to recover and adjust to their new life before the Conditioning started. Each of them was branded with a unique number. Something that could be used to find them in the event that one of them escaped. The ones that the Conditioning worked on disappeared. Bought by mages that believed them to be Creature Familiars. Those who didn’t take to the Conditioning were tortured until they broke. It went on like this until their anger finally outweighed their fear. Their revolt; if it could really even be called that; was a failure in Silas’s opinion. So many of them had died. Freedom for the few of them that had made it out was paid for in the blood of those who hadn’t. Silas had taken his new freedom and run to the nearest mage. Signed it away in exchange for survival. Even if Daniel saw them as equals; Silas had still done the exact thing they had fought so hard to be freed from. He would have almost rather having died. Almost.

He could feel Daniel’s eyes on him and had the feeling he wasn’t going to be able to get out of this one without talking. He knew Daniel wouldn’t ask outright, but would linger until Silas said something. It Gave the illusion that he had other options; but if he wanted to be alone he would have to say something. “There were three of us, you know, that made it out.” He began and did what he could to keep the emotion out of his voice, “Me and then two of my brothers. I lost them in our mad dash to get out, and now I don’t know if they’re even alive.” He tried to blink away his tears, but they only rolled down his cheeks instead, “After everything we’d been through; I couldn’t be bothered to stay. I ran away like a fucking coward and sold myself out in a desperate bid to survive. Some fucking brother I am.” Daniel was quiet for a long while. This was the most Silas had ever ‘willingly’ said to him. “In a few weeks you’ll be healed enough to handle mildly strenuous activity.” He said eventually, “We could go looking for them if you would like.” Cold heavy dread settled in the pit of Silas’s stomach, “Why?” He snapped, “So you can add them to your collection? So you can have the complete set of the last shapeshifters known to man?”

“No.” Daniel replied sharply, “So you can have some damn closure and a place to stay once the contract is up. I actually want you to be safe, believe it or not.” Silas flinched. He knew Daniel wasn’t the same as the other humans he had dealt with, but he was still afraid. He set down his mug of long forgotten coffee and breathed out a defeated sigh. It was too early in the morning for a fight. On top of that, Daniel hadn’t done anything to deserve this. The contract was a means of protecting him. He understood that. “I’m sorry. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and yet I still fear completely offering you my trust.” He said after the silence had long since grown uncomfortable, “You may very well be the only human with my best interests at heart and I keep pushing you away.” He took a deep breath and tuned to face Daniel, “I’ll think about it, but that is asking a lot of faith from me; and for now, I think I would rather be alone.” Daniel looked away from him and his shoulders slumped, “I understand.” His voice was almost level, but hurt lingered just beneath the surface, “I’ll be in the house if you need me.” Silas watched him leave and wondered if he should have been gentler. It wasn’t Daniel’s fault he’d gone through all that, but he had nothing else to do with all his anger. Burying it clearly hadn’t helped.

He picked through the food Daniel had brought up for him and tried to gather himself a little more. Daniel didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of his anger. He wasn’t responsible for what was done to him. He was the only person that was trying to help. The least Silas could do was give him the results he wanted. Even if they were fake. Time to see if he could even manage to be a convincing liar. The sooner he seemed well, the sooner he could get out of here. He didn’t know where he would go, yet, but he was sure he would find his place eventually. On top of that Daniel wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. He could go back to whatever it was he had been doing before Silas had come crashing into his life. It was late in the day when Silas had gathered enough of himself back together to handle being around another person. He didn’t say anything to Daniel when he came back; because he looked busy, and because he simply didn’t feel like it. He got to work on the dishes so he would have less to do later in the evening. “I’m sorry Silas.” Daniel broke the silence after a while, “For this morning. It was insensitive and out of line.”

The laugh that hitched and bubbled it’s way out of his chest was bitter and humorless. It surprised him, this was the first time he had laughed in years. “Was it?” He asked coolly, “Are you rescinding your offer to help me find my only remaining relatives then?” “Well, no.” Daniel scrambled, “I just; I wanted you to know that I meant no offense by it.” He explained and Silas relaxed some, “I feel like I’ve messed something up, and I want to know how I can fix it. I hate seeing you so upset.” “It’s a matter of learning to trust you.” He said and looked down at his hands, “My whole life up until now has been spent in fear of humans. I just have to keep in mind that you haven’t posed a danger to me yet. Sorry for being so... defensive, I guess would be the word.” “You’re alright.” He replied kindly, “These things take time. Even at that, you have a lot of trauma to work through and-” “Daniel stop.” Silas interrupted, “I need someone to listen to me, not psychoanalyze me. Believe me, I am well aware of all my trauma and the power imbalance of our dynamic. I really don’t need the reminder.” “Right.” He agreed with a sharp nod, “It can be difficult to turn my doctor off sometimes.”

“I understand.” Silas replied as he leaned against the counter to face Daniel, “It’s the only way people will acknowledge you, so it has become your primary mode of existing.” He watched with mild amusement as Daniel’s jaw dropped, “You’re more than that to me, you know. You’re the closest thing to a friend I’ve had actually.” “First of all, ow.” He said with a laugh and put his hand over his heart, “Secondly, what happened to not psychoanalyzing each other? I’m glad you think of me as a friend though.” Silas smiled, and it felt strange after not having done so for so long, “I figured that you’ve done it to me enough times that I deserved a turn.” “Fair enough.” Daniel replied as he began to put his things away. “How many weeks?” Silas asked once his curiosity got the better of him, “Until we can leave?” He was quiet for a long while before he replied, “Six, if you mind your limitations; eight to twelve if you keep ignoring them like this.” His smile fell away, “That was a lot more than I was hoping for.” Daniel just shrugged, “You’ve been stubborn. Agitating your old injuries and coming back from your little excursions with new ones. You need to rest.”

“Fine.” He said as he made his way to the bookshelf to go through the travelers’ guides, “I’ll be a better patient from here on out.” He settled on his bed with the books he had grabbed, “Six weeks should be enough time to find a place to start.” “Of course it will.” Daniel replied with a gentle smile Silas felt like he hadn’t been meant to see. It was finally time to venture out into the world. He just hoped they found Connor and Richard before anyone else did. If he lost his brothers he wouldn’t have anyone left. There was no way he could survive that.

#Something Familiar #SF AU #daniel60 #dbh daniel #dbh sixty #dbh fic #dbh #PTSD tw #mental health tw #torture mention tw #death mention tw

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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What Sweet Tooth Changes From the Comic

https://ift.tt/3g1fJx0

This article contains spoilers for Sweet Tooth, both the TV series and the comic.

Sweet Tooth, the live-action adaptation of Jeff Lemire’s post-apocalyptic comic, has now arrived on Netflix and it’s a hit! Or at least that’s what producer Robert Downey Jr. ‘s overwhelmingly prevalent promoted tweet claims. I can recite “#SweetTooth is now certified fresh with a perfect 100% critics score. So incredibly proud of the whole @sweettooth team and can’t wait for you to see ‘the show of the summer.’ All episodes are now streaming on Netflix!” more readily than my own name at this point.

Still, it’s easy to see why Sweet Tooth found an audience on Netflix. The story of a gentle deer-boy hybrid named Gus and his quest to find his mother in a virus-ravaged world puts a refreshingly optimistic face on a well-worn post-apocalypse genre. Actor Christian Convery is a real find as Gus a.k.a. Sweet Tooth and the series eight episodes feel like an ‘80s Amblin Entertainment homage done right.

Sweet Tooth is so inherently sweet that audiences might not realize just how much it deviates from its comic inspiration. Lemire’s comic miniseries, published from 2009 through 2013 by DC’s Vertigo imprint, has many fans, including some big pop culture names. Actor Michael Sheen wrote the foreword for the series first collected trade paperback. TV writer Damon Lindelof (Watchmen, Lost) conducted an interview with Lemire for the end of the final book. The comic is also decidedly less sweet than the TV show it inspired.

Arriving in an era before apocalypse fatigue fully set in for pop culture, Sweet Tooth really leans into the Mad Max side of its “Bambi Meets Mad Max” elevator pitch. The book is quite dark and unflinching. That Netflix and series creator Jim Mickle decided to go in a brighter direction for the show is an interesting commentary on entertainment’s priorities at the moment. But what if Sweet Tooth the TV series decided to hew closer to its source material? Read on to see how the comic and the show differ.

Tone

It cannot be overstated just how much darker the Sweet Tooth comic is than the TV series. The show acknowledges that the post-apocalyptic world after “The Sick” would feature some inherent violence. In fact, the whole plot of the show involves hunters trying to kidnap a child and deliver him to the military to be ground up into medicine essentially. That’s obviously dark. But the show still does its best to avoid as much onscreen violence as possible.

When the Big Man or another character rescues Gus from hunters, he does so in a largely bloodless fashion. Even when Big Man takes a bear trap to a poacher’s head, audiences are spared the grisly sights and sounds of it. Readers of the Sweet Tooth comic, however, are spared nothing. The pages of Lemire’s work are positively drenched in blood. Midway through the story, Gus is even forced to beat a fellow hybrid’s brains in with a brick. He says he feels bad about it, but not that bad.

The comic also delves into the realm of sexual violence as many post-apocalyptic stories have felt compelled to do before. Early on in the proceedings Big Man and Gus come across a town where a family captures women and forces them into prostitution. When Big Man rescues two women, they become permanent fixtures of their party. These characters, Lucy and Becky, do not appear in the TV show (though one character does borrow her name from one).

If all the violence didn’t already make it apparent, the Sweet Tooth comic is particularly misanthropic. Nearly all of the human characters in the comic are monsters. Even Gus’s beloved Big Man Jepperd is useful because he’s a monster. Jepperd never loses sight of what makes him useful in this world, which is killing. He only becomes a hero when he applies that skill to those who deserve it. Throughout the series run, the comic continually intimates that perhaps planet Earth would be better off without all these humans anyway.

Characters

Befitting the comic’s darker tone, the characters of Sweet Tooth are also quite a bit darker. While Convery’s depiction of Gus in the show is absolutely pitch perfect for a young Spielbergian hero, the Gus of the comic isn’t quite as self-assured or sophisticated. The education that Gus received from his “pubba” wasn’t necessarily top notch stuff so his vernacular is filled with more slang and abbreviations. He comes across as a true Nebraskan country boy.

Meanwhile, Tommy Jepperds a.k.a Big Man (Nonso Anozie) gets an even bigger makeover for the show. Lemire describes the Jepperds of the comic as being inspired by the concept of an aging Frank Castle. There is absolutely no warmth in the comic’s Big Man. Instead of being an ex-football player, he’s an ex hockey player…and a pretty terrible one at that, only useful as his team’s “enforcer”. Anozie’s Jepperds is quite a bit more personable and open. Though he intends to sell Gus to the Last Men, he never goes through with it. In the comic, Jepperds does exactly that before changing his mind and rescuing the boy.

The pig-girl hybrid Wendy (Naledi Murray) exists in the comic but her mother Aimee (Dania Ramirez) does not. Instead Gus meets Wendy at the Last Men facility after Jepperds sells him off. He meets Wendy’s little buddy Bobby there too.

Gus’s “pubba” is a janitor at a medical facility in both the comic and the show, but as played by Will Forte in the show, he’s a lot more tender and smooth. The show Pubba is the perfect father to young Gus, open, communicative, and knowledgeable. In the comic, however, the character has lost some of his mental faculties in isolation. He is a God-fearing man who entertains and writes down his apocalyptic visions. Gus loves him and he loves Gus but he’s also not operating at full capacity. Also not operating at full capacity is Dr. Adityah Singh (Adeel Akhtar), who becomes inspired by Pubba’s writings and believes that Gus is a new god.

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The Animal Army is quite different in the comic. Instead of being a ragtag gang of Neverland-style kids, it’s a disturbing cult of adults in animal masks, led by a deranged man who has five dog-hybrid children. Becky a.k.a Bear (Stefania LaVie Owen) is an invention for the show but she does take her name from a comic character.

General Abbott though? He’s pretty much that villainous in both iterations of the story. Screw that guy.

Story

Though Sweet Tooth’s first season begins and ends in a similar spot to the first “Book” (12 issues) of the comic, the path it takes to get there is wildly different.

Why Sweet Tooth’s Ending is Ultimately Hopeful

By Nicole Hill

Scenes at Aimee’s Preserve and at Dr. Singh’s Stepford-ian community are invented entirely for the show. The Preserve is mentioned in the comic, but it’s never confirmed to exist (and likely does not, given the comic’s relentlessly dark tone). The first time Gus and readers meet Wendy and Dr. Singh is at the Last Men facility where Gus finds himself in the final episode of the season. Also new to the TV series are Gus and Big Man’s side quest through an outdoor sporting goods store, and the entire Animal Army’s arc.

In the comic, Gus, Big Man, and company’s journey stretches from Nebraska to Alaska (hey, that rhymes!). The show elects to shorten that a bit by having Gus venture from Wyoming to Colorado. In addition to introducing new stories, the show also abandons some comic stories entirely, likely in pursuit of its cheerier tone.

Netflix has not announced Sweet Tooth season 2 yet. Based on the show’s apparent success, however, future seasons seem likely. When they arrive, they will undoubtedly have many more changes to make from the source material to ensure an appropriately sweet viewing experience.

Sweet Tooth is available to stream on Netflix now.

The post What Sweet Tooth Changes From the Comic appeared first on Den of Geek.

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witchiswriting · 3 years

Text

A Not So Merry Christmas Chapter 5

Summary: Negan and Lilith meet with an unexpected face from the past.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of violence, Mentions of panic attack.

Characters: Negan x Lilith (OC)

Author’s Note: Wow! We’re so close to the end. I feel bittersweet since it’s my Negan fic ever, saying goodbye to those characters are harder than I thought. Don’t worry though. There’s going to be a sequel, I just don’t know when it’s gonna be ready to posted.

It’s been a month and a half since Negan had started to live in this hell called The Sanctuary. He’d accepted the fact that he’s never going back to the life he once had. The only person he knew from his life before, his best friend or more like ex best friend was now his enemy. Rick Grimes, he was one of the residents of Sanctuary; he didn’t have a room like ordinary workers or saviours. No, he was staying in a cell and lost his hands in a brutal way. He had watched all his family getting slaughtered by Negan.

When Simon led Negan to the cells that day, he found out about the murders he’s caused, and they were a lot. When they came across Rick’s group Negan ordered them to give their half of shit to him. Threatened that otherwise he’d kill them. After particular events, a war took place between the groups Negan terrorised. They came together against Negan, but they still hadn’t the enough numbers to defeat Negan’s kingdom. So, Negan beat them down in a very brutal way.

Rick Grimes was the person who killed Lilith. In a crossfire he shot her in the chest. Although, Negan was the one to blame since he was the reason that Lilith had been here that day.

If he wouldn’t had been this stupid. Cheating on her in another world too.

In that very morning, Lilith walked in on him fucking Amber, at least that’s what Negan thinks her name is. He doesn’t remember anything, doesn’t know anything. He even made Simon tell him how Lilith died. So, that was it. Shocked and very much hurt Lilith left The Sanctuary, and she was too lost in her own mind to notice the trap the Alexandrians had set up.

First, she was captured by Rick. He had no intention to hurt her. She was just another victim to Negan after all but when the saviours came guns blazing Lilith got scared and tried to find a way to escape. She found it but when she threw herself, she felt the heavy bullet ripping through her chest. That’s how she died in arms of Negan.

When Negan stood in front of his ex-friend now enemy’s cell, he felt completely numb. Nothing came out of his mouth. The only voice echoing through the cold walls were Rick’s hatred, accusations, and threats. Negan waited with a stone-cold face. He was too busy to comprehend the situation. After 10 minutes he walked back to his room and refused to come out since then.

Negan sighed, taking a sip from his whiskey. He let a tear fall on his cheek. It’s been too long, and he was now sure that there’s no going back and there’s no Lilith. He’s the man with everything yet nothing.

For the first couple of weeks Negan always slept, thinking that might be the only way to go back to his old life but, of course, it didn’t work. Instead, he woke up to a bloody Lilith standing in front of him and accusing him of letting her die. His nightmares were another thing. There were too real that Negan couldn’t bear to live this agony repeatedly. So, he drowned himself and his sorrows in alcohol. Hoping to numb himself and he almost made it.

Until one night.

He was laying on his stomach in his bed and crying silently. Wishing he had at least one photograph of Lilith though he didn’t know if he could take looking at her beautiful face again. Trying to get some sleep, he closed his already tired eyes. He heard some noise in his bathroom but didn’t care. Probably he was too drunk, and his mind was making up things to torture him more.

He turned on his back and closed his eyes tightly. Wishing dive into deep slumbers of sleep in a few minutes however, the faith had other plans.

A light breeze brushed his beautiful face, slightly waking him up from his semi sleeping state.

There she was, standing in the same sun dress, watching him with an angry expression. Her dark curls were moving lightly in the wind.

He jolted up from the bed. He must have been dreaming or was too drunk again and seeing a hallucination.

Lucille, she was standing all in her glory.

‘’ You really don’t get the concept of second chances, do you Negan?’’ She asked with a sassy tone. It was apparent that she wasn’t pleased with him.

‘’W-what? I’m too drunk and seeing things. Fuck. Lucille.’’ Negan was rubbing his eyes.

‘’Wake up asshole, it’s not a hallucination. I’m here. Again. To fucking help.’’ She gritted her teeth.

‘’ But why?’’ Negan was confused. He knew he had no right to seek for help nor he deserved it.

‘’ I’m not doing this for you.’’ Lucille shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

‘’ Then for who? ‘’ It was getting more and more complex for Negan to figure out in his drunken state.

‘’ I mean you’ve always had a fucked-up mind, but you were also sharp. So, you tell me Negan.’’ She took a step toward him.

‘’ I’d say Lilith but, well… she’s gone.’’ Negan swallowed hardly. The gulp in his throat was getting bigger.

‘’ So, you say?’’ Lucille smirked knowingly.

‘’ IS SHE ALIVE? PLEASE TELL ME!’’ Negan got up from the bed and kneeled in front of Lucille.

‘’ Isn’t it funny that fears become wishes, Negan?’’ Lucille mocked his ex-husband. She’s not used to see him in such a pathetic state. She mumbled ‘good’ under her breath. ‘’ When you left Lilith, the last thing you wanted was to see her again. What has changed?’ She smirked but the sign of sympathy didn��t appear on her beautiful features, instead her face was full of ferocity.

Negan couldn’t keep his tears at bay anymore, at this point he’s crying like a pathetic dog. Yes, the woman he’d loved once was being extremely hard on him but his pain didn’t matter shit to him. All he wanted was Lilith to be alive, even if it’s without him.’ Please tell me she’s alive. Please, I beg you.’’ He started sobbing violently.

‘’ It depends. You’re probably going to treat her as badly as the last time.’’ Lucille shrugged her shoulders in a careless manner.

He started to hyperventilate. ‘’ I fucking promise I will never hurt her ever again. If she’s alive and ready to accept me, I’ll do my fucking best to make it up to her. Just please fucking tell me if she’s alive.’’

Lucille took a deep breath. Her eyes were shining mischievously. ‘’ Well then.’’ She bit her lower lip. ‘’ Yes, she’s alive Negan but she’s not doing very well as you can guess.’’

‘’I-I-I’d do everything for her to be happy… and if she doesn’t want me then I’ll go my own way. I just want the best for her.’’ Tears were running down on his face violently. His eyes were blood shot and puffy, his nose was running down but he couldn’t care less. This a month and a half has been the worst he’s ever experienced. He thought nothing could beat the day Lucille died but he was wrong.

Negan struggled at controlling his shaking hands. The balloon growing inside him was pressing into his chest. His breath got caught in his throat and he couldn’t mutter a word, just a chocked sob came out. The last time he had a panic attack was when he found out Lucille has cancer.

Watching the miserable man before her, Lucille put her delicate hand on his shoulder in a supporting manner. ‘’ Stand up and go to sleep. Maybe you’ll wake up to your old life next morning. Who knows?’’ She purred.

He stood up like an obedient child, but he had one question in his mind. ‘’Lucille, why are you being this good to me?’’

Lucille laughed. ‘’Oh dear, I’m not being good to you, now go back to sleep. If you’re lucky maybe you’d see her in your dream tonight.’’ And with that she disappeared.

Lilith was dancing slowly in her room. That was her coping mechanism. Whenever a bad thing happens, she tries to get over it with dancing and most of the time it helps but this time she felt like there’s nothing that could soothe her pain.

It’s been two weeks and the pain had started to annoy her, since childhood she hadn’t been good with dealing her negative emotions and the last one was the biggest blow. Feeling sad and in pain drove her crazy. Now, she’s mad at his asshole ex-fiancé also herself. She didn’t know when she’d fallen that deep for the man who ruined her life in a single night. Before, she didn’t realize how much he meant to her and it hurt more knowing that he was probably the only one for her.

Five days ago, she went back to Negan’s place to gather her things, but nobody was at home and there was no sign of Negan had been there for a long time. His car and motorbike were in the garage, but his clothes were absent in his wardrobe. Who knows, maybe he’d already found a lover. Thinking of that possibility hurt Lilith in the ways she could’ve never guessed before.

Rubbing her eyes, she took a deep breath and stared herself at mirror. The song was over, and she was a little bit tired. She watched herself for a few minutes. Her bright blue eyes were slightly red and swollen just like her plump lips. Her nose was running down, and the tip was a deep shade of red.

Suddenly, she heard a melody playing. She didn’t recognize it immediately, but she knew she heard it before, just couldn’t quite place when she listened to the song.

She must be forgetting things after all the crying; her head wasn’t in the right place. She unplugged the player and threw herself on bed.

When she felt a soft fingertip on her bare shoulder it’s been almost 10 minutes letting herself into the arms of slumber. Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Lilith slightly opened them.

She couldn’t help the gape that formed on her mouth when she saw the woman who she’d only knew from photographs standing before her.

It was an interesting night to begin with.

@buttercandy16 @negans-network

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #negan x reader #negan x oc #negan angst #negan smut #negan fluff #lucille twd #lucille #negan x lilith #story: a not so merry christmas #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #jdm #negan twd

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leggomylino · 4 years

Text

Stray Kids Playing Animal Crossing: New Horizons

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A/n: M.List linked down below! | My very first reaction!!! :D I hope you all enjoy <3

Tag List: @distrikt9 @hanniiesuckle17 @smolboiseavey (Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

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✧ Bang Chan ⇢ STAY Island ✧

Passport Title ⇢ Crisp Ringleader

Okay family

As our ENFJ king Chan would totally have a island that revolved around the others

Sure he’d have his own space too

But he’d def be one to put up lots of fun camping space and interactive inventions

A cute little barbecue grill on the beach with a wooden table and log benches 🥺🥺 and a picnic area too

I feel like he’d also go out of his way to breed black roses but that may just be me 😂🤷🏻‍♀️

Black and white flowers everywhere, and maybe some red roses too?

He’d also be a generous donator and frequently visit the others to see if anyone needed help with anything

Just stopping by to check in and drop off some hardwood, or iron, maybe even gold

...That’s a big maybe on the gold cause we all know that stuff ain’t common and if you want Marshal on your island you better have some handy

In addition to this, I think that the generosity would only go so far and he’d be quite the tease too

Running around left and right ratting the others out during pranks and “borrowing” things from the others

“where’d my recipe for gold armor go???”

🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ “idk bro I think I saw Minho running off with it?”

For villagers, he’d have a plethora of the animal kingdom on his island

Anyone is welcome

You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit 🥴

He’d def have mentions of Stay on his island too

And the guys, his squad

A Stay flag and Stray Kids written in the sand somewhere

Maybe vice versa

His character would likely be of similar resemblance but I can totally see him playing with the fun hair colors and face paint

His wardrobe would consist of similar attire too: black, white, caps, hoodies, and chains

Y’all AC fans know that one punk outfit with the chains across the bodice? He’d own that

His home is a toss up: on one hand it could be very chill and cozy, but on another I’m seeing workout gear in one corner and iron tables and a TV and radio going, maybe (definitely) a music studio setup (similar to Weber’s home but more hardcore LMAO)

All in all, I think Chan would be a chill/causal player that would be happy to help his friends and community while also playing hard ball once in a while just to mess with everyone 😂♥️

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✧ Lee Minho ⇢ Soodori Island ✧

Passport Title ⇢ Total Genius

Soodori is a combination of Minho’s cats

Your boy Minho couldn’t resist the ingenious idea

He’d pondered for the longest time which of his precious babies was going to be awarded the title of his island; an impossible decision

Then along comes our creative leader, “why don’t you just use all three?”

‼️‼️‼️

Genius!1!1!!1!1 😩✨

On Soodori, you bet all the villagers are cats; if you don’t have pointy ears and a swishing tail, Access Denied 🙅🏻‍♀️

This means you, Han

Villagers included would consist of Raymond, who may or may not be an island celebrity

And let’s not forget Queen Ankha

But to Minho, all his cat citizens are equally loved and cherished as a valid part of the community

His whole aesthetic would be cats too

That includes a cat cafe

His flag would probably be a paw print 🐾 or his cat’s names, maybe a cute scribbling of their faces

And if you disrespected that, there’d be blood to pay

I can see his character closely resembling him as well, with a little paw print on his cheek? Maybe some whiskers?

He’d thoroughly enjoy visiting the others islands “if he absolutely had to”

Swipe some goods

And bundle them up to go on the plane out ✈️

For the most part, I see him being more of a hermit on his island that only heads out On Demand

Even then, it’s kind of a toss up: good luck getting him to leave his children behind

If you’re nice to him, he MIGHT let you come and view the splendor...m a y b e

But you better not touch or take anything 🗿🔥

Shoot, when it came to special visitors, like Redd or K.K., he’d probably try chasing them off

Put those tools to use

There’s more than one way to skin a cat

(Don’t tell him I said that tho 👀💧)

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✧ Seo Changbin ⇢ DARK Island ✧

Passport Title ⇢ Music-Loving Loner

Dark, dark, dark

We all done knew, didn’t we?

Changbin is the KING of darkness

So it goes without saying that his whole island would radiate the stuff, too

It may seem depressing and a little emo at first, but eventually the concept comes off being pretty cool

...In an angsty, Evanescence sort of way

He’d probably be very lost on how to play at first...at first

He’s got Felix and Chan to help him tho, so he’d be breeding black flowers before you know it

Maybe a little gray and navy blue tones to break up the solidarity somewhere

I’m seeing a kind of night sky aesthetic, maybe some astrology furniture???

Look out, Celeste

She’s gonna be running to Big Brother Blathers saying some scary short guy is following her around the woods

Poor Binnie just wants a Starry Sky wall...until he sees how bright it actually is

Then it’s 💯 a fat pass

Binnie would kindly welcome all sorts of villagers while being minorly selective

After all, we can’t break the darkness with some cheery-idol-wannabe villager, or some Judy the anime bear

I can say with utmost certainty at 95% that his whole wardrobe would be black caps and hoodies

Maybe a plain black tee

Some black pants

And

White or black sneakers 🥴✨

I think he would be pretty intent on building up his island...in particular, collecting all the artifacts and critters for the museum

He’d work hard but not go crazy or stress about it and still take lots of time to just chill in his deep dark vibes

Maybe get out once in a while to visit Felix and learn a thing or two

Overall, we see through your front, Bin; you may have a dark vibe but you’re really just a small big softie ☺️

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✧ Hwang Hyunjin ⇢ Kkami Island ✧

Passport Title ⇢ Soothing Season

Welcome to Kkami Island, which was almost named something else aesthetically cute like Honeycomb or Applepuff

However, like Minho, Hyun simply couldn’t resist a chance to use his precious baby’s name

On Kkami, life is pretty chill: EXCEPT WHEN ITS SERIOUS 🔥

That’s right folks

This boy may have some vibing days and go at his own pace

But don’t be fooled: he plays to win

Plant those money trees

Enter those QR codes

Carve out those pathways

Where is Blathers we have a donation 😤😤

Hyunjin would be a steady-paced worker bee 🐝

He’d likely be selective of his villagers and go for cute ones

Possibly top to secondary tier

When it came to games and get togethers, you’d likely find him chasing another member with a net or an axe, in most cases Jisung

“qUiT LEaViNG TrASh oN mY iSLaNd!!1!1!1!” 💢

“DROP THAT DIY!1!1!1!!1”

Let’s see

His whole island aesthetic would be cute and peaceful:

Plants, terrariums, soft sunlight...

There’d be so many flowers!!! Hyunjin would have a whole colorful flower field 🥰🌸

White and wooden furniture in and around the home

An adorable tea and snack time plaza too! And a library!!! 📖✨

Very cozy and sweet ♥️

Though, shoot, if he had the energy, this guy may just build himself a palace... 🏰

Regardless, just look for the boy with the staple headband and likely some face paint to boot

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✧ Han Jisung ⇢ Swag HOT Island ✧

Passport Title ⇢ Trendy Supreme Being

(Edit: Minho convinced Felix to hack his account and changed this to Untossable Trash)

Ohhh boy

I bet y’all were waiting patiently for this one

Or maybe you jumped right to it

Either way here we go:

Han Jisung would be the king of the trash heap

And by that I mean this guy would save up all his bells and buy himself a crown 👑 where he’d sit atop a throne of garbage

BECAUSE THERE WOULD BE TRASH EVERYWHERE SIS 😩😩

This guy would be yeeting furniture and garbage all over the place

...Okay maybe that was a bit overdramatic

Maybe not EVERYWHERE...

......

...It’d be pretty messy tho

He’d probs have traps set up too

You step off the plane and get catapulted into the ocean, if that were a thing

You’d have to navigate and hop around discarded junk for sure

He’d have clothes here, a fan there, a...urinal...on the beach???

.........o k a y ._.💧

Han Jisung wouldn’t be all that competitive when it came to gathering every fruit or collecting all the fish

He doesn’t have the patience for that

He needs to run around and be free, letting his mind wander while wrecking havoc for everyone else; which is also Minnie’s job but we’ll get to that later

For villagers, he’d have at least one squirrel or two (Marshal?! :D) but I’m not so sure it’d really matter...all that much?

I’m not sure he’d even want many villagers at all

He’d be spending most of his time crashing other member’s islands and leaving little surprises like a useless DIY they already have or a fake painting he got roped into buying bc he was too lazy to check if it was genuine =_=

Everyone got sick of it pretty quickly but no one like Minho or Hyunjin; he’s permanently banned from those two locations and Jeongin’s considering adding him to the list next

Despite there being so much junk, his house would have an almost decent vibe: lots of instruments and fun gear, along with some random clothes, a lava lamp, and...another urinal 🗿💧

Seriously, someone get this boy a closet and some coaching in organization

Chan and Changbin are working on hiring Minnie but it’s not going too well; for one he charges too much

Maybe you can talk some sense into him...

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✧ Lee Felix ⇢ YEET Island ✧

Passport Title ⇢ Festive Chum

Okay y’all

Felix

Would be

THE KING

OF ANIMAL CROSSING

THIS BOY WOULD HAVE

ALL THE FRUITS!!! 🍎🍐🍊🍒🍑🥥

ALL THE FLOWERS!!!🌷🌹🌺🌸🌼🌻

I MEAN EVERY COLOR OF EVERY COMBINATION

A COMPLETED MUSEUM 🖼 🐜 🐠

I MEAN BEFORE ART WAS ADDED, HE HAD EVERYTHING RARING TO GO

NINTENDO WAS LIKE “wtf?!”

YEAH SIS, HE’S THAT GOOD

Boy would have a five star island all sorted into perfectly measured categories

An amusement park, a picnic area, a freaking ranch probably 🐮

Some awesome neighborhood for his tier one villagers with a YMCA down the street

A fancy one at that

I mean this boy would have it all

Expect a competitive softie that really just wants to have fun but like

He’s gonna win too lmao

He’s got his Nook Miles program all maxed out

When playing with the others, he comes up with really creative solutions when faced with a crisis

That’s because this smart cookie knows the ins and outs of the game

There was one time where he fenced Jisung in like the creepy Easter bunny and left him for ded oop

That was a bad day for Jisung and a hilarious day for everyone else

He felt bad about it but he also wanted that Subway gift card 🤷🏻‍♀️

Each day is a new hair color for Felix

Sometimes every few days or a week

He sometimes likes to synchronize it with his current hair color but

Experimenting is also fun

Face paint too! 🌈 He chooses a warpaint print he found on Pinterest, for days when the gang gets together for a game of tag or bug catching contests

Even if he doesn’t win, Felix always makes it into the Top 3

And he has a lot of fun doing so! 😊

He’s just one heck of a gamer is all

And his whole aesthetic shines brighter than the sun T-T ☀️

♪♫ -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- ♪♫ -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- ♪♫ -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- ♪♫

✧ Kim Seungmin ⇢ Seungmin’s Island ✧

Passport Title ⇢ Radiant Boy

Like Felix, Seungmin would be an ace at AC

He wouldn’t get everything right off the bat

But he’d put in a logical tried-and-true effort, and once he got the ropes and found his groove, my oh my

This boy would have it all

Sophistication ✨

Class ✨✨

Flair ✨✨✨

He’s got a plethora of fruit and stylish attire too

And his aesthetic is so simple but chic

He’s got this whole clean and polished vibe

Lots of artwork and creativity

He’s even got traps that look like fancy furniture

Those are mainly for Han Jisung tho

That oughta teach him to quit nosing around and taking his DIYs <_<

One time he tried stealing a few apples for Swag HOT Island

Didn’t go well sis...

He made it to just outside the pier before getting lost in the hedge maze by Cafe Seungmin

After that Seungmin closed him into a corner as punishment and wouldn’t let him out until he dropped the Apple

But Jisung was feeling pretty prideful that day so he ate it instead 🗿💧

Anyway

This guy would def make a character that looks just like him!

Would he try new hair colors and face paint? ...Maybe

It seems like a sorta-Seungmin thing to do

Seungmin would wanna be the best of the best while still staying true to himself, so you’ll likely see tier one and two villagers that he particularly fancies

Fancy you, fancy me 🥳✨💃🏻🎶

He’d also be one to go around admiring the chaos from the background while occasionally becoming the chaos

Kinda like the Cheshire Cat 😅

When challenging the others to an art contest (who could buy the most expensive artifact from Redd without using the internet) he switched some of the other members paintings while they were distracted by a meteor shower

“Look, a shooting star! And another one!”

“Make a wish.”

“How do I do that?!”

“Tilt your camera towards the sky and press A.”

“I’ve got my camera app open and it’s just taking photos???”

“Not you CAMERA camera—“

“Hey! Chan hyung, Minho just stole my star!!!”

“I didn’t see your NAME on it...”

“Don’t fight, you can each have half!”

“That’s not how it works at all...”

...Anyway

It was pretty comical until Changbin had to say something, about the art that is

Then Minnie had to bounce before the angry shovels and nets caught up to him

“Hey!!! Why is my painting on Minho’s side???”

“Why is everyone attacking me???”

“Oh, Hyunjin has my painting...”

“I do not! ...Oh hey I do? Why’d you put it over here?”

“I DIDN’T!”

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

...

🛫 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

Poor Minnie just wanted to have some fun amongst the confusion 😔

But

When it gets right down to it, you better believe this boy would be an aesthetic and skillful player ✨

♪♫ -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- ♪♫ -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- ♪♫ -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- ♪♫

✧ Yang Jeongin ⇢ Go Away Island ✧

Passport Title ⇢ Mistakingly Caught Son

Go Away Island means just what the title intends: go away :)

Initially, Jeongin was prepared for what he senior members would do

He knew there would be much anticipation to visit the 막내’s island and drive him crazy

Sometimes, he doesn’t mind it

But others he just wants to be left alone and do his own thing

When he started the game, it was one of those days

So he wanted to make the message clear 😤😤

Also, Don’t Bother Me seemed to be too long 🤷🏻‍♀️

Go Away was straight to the point ;D

Anyhoo

On Go Away, you’ll encounter lots of cute characters 💓

Innie has a very cute and true-to-himself aesthetic

He doesn’t understand much of the mechanics but he’s working on it okay?

And he’s getting better every day!

Okay, so like, sometimes he’ll allow Chan to come over and help

Or Felix or maybe Seungmin if he promises to be genuine and behave

But like

The rest of the members are semi-banned

Hyunjin gets a pass if he whines enough

Or he’ll come up with a crafty excuse to come over

“Innie, look! I got peaches on my island! Don’t you want one? They’re cute like you! 😩❣️”

...He could do without that last embarrassing remark but okay sure

He really did want those peaches for his picnic garden 😔✊🏻

In terms of hair color? We’re on a rotation like Felix

We’re trying lots of hair colors

And a few aesthetic designs, too!

Jeongin is very resourceful when it comes to QR codes, something Felix and Seungmin taught him

He uses them to set flowers and stones pathways everywhere

And an especially prominent one leading to the door 👉🏻🚪

♪♫ -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- ♪♫ -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- ♪♫ -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- ♪♫

↬ Which island will you be visiting? 🌴✨

♪♫ -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- ♪♫ -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- ♪♫ -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- ♪♫

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

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pjo-whore · 3 years

Text

Percy In Tartarus

Chapter 1: The Fall, And Gone

ao3 link. if anyone wants to be tagged for future updates please comment!

Annabeth had seen some strange things before, having been privy to the mythological world since she was only seven years old.

Several things she could name off the top of her head was her first time at Camp Half-Blood when she witnessed her best friend die in cold blood, then proceed to be turned into a pine tree; witnessing the Stoll brothers pull of pranks that increasingly defied the laws of physics; and when she had even seen her boyfriend turned into a guinea pig by a vengeful sorceress.

And that wasn’t even half of the craziest stuff she had to deal with on the daily.

But if there was one thing she had never witnessed before, it was cars raining from the sky. If she was being honest, it wasn’t as cool as it sounded.

Like, three out of ten.

Would not recommend.

As the roof of the cavern collapsed, beams of sunlight came through from above, blinding Annabeth. Briefly, she caught a glimpse of the Argo II.

It had used its ballistae to blast a hole straight through the ground.

Giants chunks of asphalt tumbled down, along with six or seven Italian cars. One would have crushed the Athena Parthenos, but luckily the statue’s glowing aura acted as a force field, and the car bounced off.

Unfortunately, that car fell toward Annabeth.

Annabeth launched herself to the side to avoid it and accidentally rolled her bad ankle. Pain washed through her, making her lightheaded. She was only just able to flip onto her back in time to see a bright red Fiat 500 slam straight into Arachne’s silk trap, punching through the cavern floor and disappearing with the Chinese spider-cuffs.

As Arachne fell, she screamed like a freight train on collision course.

More chunks of debris slammed through the floor, riddling it with holes.

The Athena Parthenos remained undamaged, thankfully, but the marble under its pedestal was a starburst of fractures.

When everything settled and debris stopped falling, Annabeth was finally able to calm down and take stock. She was covered with cobwebs. She trailed the strands of leftover spider silk from her arms and legs like the strings of a marionette, but somehow none of the debris had hit her.

Annabeth wanted to believe that it had been the statue of her mother that had protected her, but bitterly, she suspected it may have been nothing but luck.

Around her, the army of spiders had disappeared.

Either they had fled back into the shadows, or they had fallen into the chasm along with Arachne, and there was no lost love from Annabeth for either option.

As natural light flooded the cavern, Arachne’s silk tapestries along the wall crumbled to dust. Annabeth could hardly bear to watch it, especially when the tapestry depicting Percy and her kissing underwater turned to nothing.

But none of it mattered the moment Annabeth heard her boyfriend calling from above.

“Annabeth!”

“Here!” She sobbed. It hurt to yell. “Over here!”

Her terror left her in one massive wave of relief. As the Argo II descended, she could see Percy leaning over the railing, waving to her. Black hair whipping in the wind, smile crooked, he appeared like a god sent from Elysium. His smile was better than any tapestry Annabeth had ever seen.

The room kept shaking, and with no lack of difficulty, Annabeth pulled herself to her feet. Her backpack was missing, along with Daedalus’ laptop.

Her celestial bronze knife, which she’d had since she was seven, was also gone.

Annabeth wanted to cry. It felt like she had lost a part of herself.

Above her, the Argo II came to a stop about forty feet from the floor. A rope ladder was lowered, but Annabeth ignored it as she stood in a daze, head still heavy.

Percy appeared at her side, lacing his fingers with hers.

He gently turned Annabeth away from the pit and wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. Annabeth buried her face in his chest and finally broke down in tears.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’re together.”

Percy didn’t say “you’re okay” or “we’re alive.” After all the two had been through, he knew the most important thing was that they were together. Annabeth felt fit to bursting for the love she held for him, and she hugged him tighter.

Around them their friends gathered. Nico was there, but Annabeth’s head felt so fuzzy that it didn’t even surprise her. It only seemed right for him to be there.

“Your leg!” Piper exclaimed. She kneeled next to Annabeth and examined the Bubble Wrap cast, fretting over her friend’s injury. “Oh, Annabeth, what happened?”

Annabeth wanted to explain, but when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out. She felt so light-headed, and her tongue felt swollen. Her throat was parched. Percy seemed to know what she needed and called for a water bottle, which Leo grabbed from his utility bet and quickly handed over to her.

As she started, it became easier.

Percy didn’t let go of her hand either, which helped to motivate her.

When she finished, everyone was staring at her in disbelief.

“Gods of Olympus,” Jason said. “You did all that alone – and with a broken ankle!”

“Well, some of it with a broken ankle,” Annabeth said weakly.

Percy broke out in a grin. “But you made Arachne weave her own trap? I knew you were good, but by the gods – generations of Athena kids tried and failed, but you did it! You found the Athena Parthenos!”

Attention switched to the statue.

“So … what do we do with her?” Frank asked. “She’s huge.”

“We have to take her with us to Greece,” Annabeth said. “She’s powerful. Something about her will help us stop the giants’ rise.”

“The giants’ bane stands gold and pale, won with pain from a woven jail,” Hazel said, quoting the prophecy. Her expression gained a hint of admiration. “It was Arachne’s jail. You tricked her into weaving it.”

With a lot of pain, Annabeth thought humorlessly.

Leo raised his hands in a mock framing, trying to measure the Athena Parthenos. “Well, it might take some rearranging, but I think we can fit her through the bay doors in the stables. If she sticks out at the end, I might have to wrap a flag around her feet … or something.”

Annabeth shuddered at the image. She imagined the Athena Parthenos jutting out from the trireme with a sign across its pedestal that read “WIDE LOAD.”

Then she remembered the other lines the prophecy: “the twins snuff out the angel’s breath, who holds the key to endless death.”

“What … what about you guys?” Annabeth said. “What happened with the giants?”

Percy told her about rescuing Nico and the surprise appearance of Bacchus, along with the fight with the twin giants in the Colosseum.

Nico didn’t say much. He didn’t say anything at all. The poor guy looked like he had been wandering through a frozen wasteland for a week. Percy shared what Nico had learned about the Doors of Death, and that to properly close them, they had to be shut on both sides.

Overworld and Underworld.

Even with the sunlight from above, Percy’s news made the cavern seem dark again.

“So, the mortal side is in Epirus.” The gears in Annabeth’s head begun to turn. “I mean … at least that’s somewhere we can reach.”

Nico grimaced. “But it’s the other side that’s the problem – Tartarus.”

The word seemed to echo eerily through the chamber.

The pit behind the group of demigods exhaled a cold blast of air, causing Annabeth to shiver. The shadows got darker, the pit echoed, and an icy feeling crept up Annabeth’s spine. Annabeth knew with certainty that the chasm went straight to the Underworld.

Percy must have felt it too because he guided Annabeth away from the edge.

Slowly and carefully, the group migrated back to the Argo II.

Annabeth’s arms and legs trailed spider silk like a bridal train, and she wished that she had something to cut the silk off. She almost asked Percy to do the honours, but he leaned in and began talking. He frowned. “You know, Bacchus mentioned something about my voyage being harder than I expected. Not sure why he –”

Suddenly, the chamber groaned, making the Athena Parthenos tilt violently to the side. Its head caught on one of Arachne’s support cables, but the marble foundation beneath the pedestal was crumbling quickly.

For a horrible moment, Annabeth thought the statue was going to fall.

Her stomach dropped.

“Secure it!” She cried out.

Thankfully, her friends understood what she meant almost immediately.

“Zhang!” Leo called, already running. “Get me to the helm, quick! The coach is up there alone!”

Frank shifted into a giant eagle, pausing only for a moment to allow Leo to jump onto his back, and the two of them soared toward the Argo II.

“Don’t worry about running, I’ll be back for you guys in just a second. Just don’t reinjure Annabeth’s ankle,” Jason said to Percy and Annabeth. Then he turned and wrapped his arms around Piper, and he summoned the winds and shot into the air.

“There’s no time, this floor won’t last!” Hazel warned, but Jason didn’t hear her. She turned to the others. “The rest of us need to get to the ladder as quick as possible!”

The group started making their way to the Argo II less carefully, speed the only thing on their minds.

Plumes of dust and cobwebs blasted from the holes in the floor, causing the demigods to inhale the dust and choke. The spider’s silk support cables trembled like massive guitar strings and began to snap. The floor lurched and crumbled.

When they reached the ship, Annabeth watched anxiously as Hazel lunged for the bottom of the rope ladder, which was swaying wildly with the shaking of the cavern. Hazel gestured for her brother to follow. Nico was in no condition to pull himself up, still sickly pale and thin and limping. Hazel had to grab him from beneath the armpits to hoist him up.

Percy held onto Annabeth tighter, shifting on his feet worriedly.

“It’ll be fine,” he muttered. “It has to be fine – we’re so close.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

Above, grappling lines shot from the Argo II and wrapped around the Athena Parthenos. One lassoed Athena’s neck like a noose. Leo was shouting orders from the helm as Jason and Frank flew frantically from line to line, trying to secure them.

Nico had managed to climb a quarter the way up when a sudden sharp pain shot up Annabeth’s bad leg, causing her to cry out and stumble.

“What is it?” Percy asked.

Annabeth didn’t have an answer.

Everything was in a haze and her head felt heavy. Confused, she staggered toward the ladder again, only to find that she could not. Instead, she was moving backward. And then her legs were swept out from beneath her in one pull, and she fell on her hands and knees. There was a hollow sound as her head bounced off the ground, and Annabeth saw stars.

“Her ankle!” Hazel screamed from the ladder. “Guys, quickly! Cut it! Cut it!”

Annabeth didn’t understand. Cut her ankle?

Apparently, Percy didn’t understand what Hazel meant, either. He grabbed Annabeth’s hands and tried to pull her back to her feet, but it caused more pain and he stopped when Annabeth began to cry. Then, suddenly, an invisible force yanked Annabeth backward and dragged her toward the pit with the force of Heracles.

Percy yelled out in fear. He lunged for Annabeth, grabbing her arms, digging his heels into the ground. Unfortunately, the momentum still carried him along with her.

“Help them!” Hazel yelled.

Nico jumped down from the ladder, headless of his injured state, and began hobbling in the direction of the pit as Hazel tried to disentangle her cavalry sword from the rope. The others were still focused on the Athena Parthenos and Hazel’s cry was lost in the general chaos.

Annabeth’s stomach dropped when she was yanked back another few feet.

She was terrified.

Now that Annabeth realized what was happening, it was too late. She was tangled in Arachne’s spider silk. She had assumed it was all loose lines, but with the entire floor covered in cobwebs, she hadn’t noticed that one of the strands was wrapped around her foot – and the other end went straight into the pit. It was attached to something heavy down in the darkness. Something was pulling her in.

Percy continued to pull uselessly on her, until something popped in her right shoulder, making her scream in pain. Startled, Percy slipped and fell past Annabeth. A large chunk of marble was upended behind them, granting them momentary pause from falling.

Percy finally seemed to get his wits about him and pulled out Riptide.

Annabeth couldn’t see it from where she was scrabbling for purchase against the marble floor, but she heard the blade hiss as it cut through the air.

With a snap, a wave of relief crashed through Annabeth once the pressure was released on her ankle. She tried pulling herself up, but the ground trembled as the marble cracked further, and the chunk behind them dropped into the looming chasm. Percy, who was behind her, tumbled down the sudden incline and, in a panic, reached out for something to grab – which happened to be Annabeth’s good ankle.

Together, they slipped further from the pull of Percy’s weight.

Terrified, Annabeth screamed and kicked him away. “Let go of me!”

“Fuck!”

Percy disappeared over the edge.

She scrambled backward as Nico hobbled past her and leaned over the edge, eyes wet.

“Annabeth help!” Percy cried. Annabeth crawled back in fear as the floor cracked further. Nico either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Percy was partway into the pit and dangling over the void. He had managed to catch a ledge almost fifteen feet below, but that wasn’t going to help him. He was holding on with one hand, struggling to get a drip with his other, which was bleeding profusely from a large gash across his palm. Several feet away from the hole sat Riptide, blood staining its blade.

No escape.

Annabeth jerked back.

She could have sworn a voice echoed from the pit, mocking her. Bile rose in her throat.

I go to Tartarus, and your loved one will come, too.

The pit shook violently, as if it were eagerly anticipating its next meal – its next victim.

Nico leaned over the edge of the chasm, hopelessly thrusting out his hand to help. But he was too far away. Nico knew it, Annabeth knew it – and Percy knew it, too.

“Percy,” Nico said, “grab my hand!”

Percy’s face was almost white with effort.

Hazel was still yelling for help from the others.

Even if they did hear her over the chaos, they would never make it in time.

Annabeth felt like her whole world was crashing down around her. She couldn’t comprehend that Percy was going to die. Even from a few feet away, she could feel the pull of the pit. She could see the darkness slowly rising, trying to claim Percy.

Percy gasped when the ledge shuddered and shifted. He looked up at Nico fifteen feet above, hand still extended. Percy’s face twisted as something final crossed his expression.

“The other side, Nico.”

Annabeth didn’t understand right away, but Nico did. He shook his head violently. “No, Percy –”

“The other side! I’ll see you there. Understand?”

Nico’s expression turned pained. “But –”

“Lead them there!” Percy said. “Promise me! Please!”

It suddenly struck Annabeth that Percy couldn’t see her. He had his eyes locked on Nico. Beside her, Nico looked lost. He stuttered. “I – I will.”

Below Percy, somewhere from the endless void, a voice laughed in the darkness.

Ice crawled up Annabeth’s spine.

A sacrifice. Such a beautiful sacrifice to wake the goddess.

It finally clicked in Annabeth’s mind.

A one-way trip.

A very hard fall.

And Percy looked scared.

Annabeth couldn’t bring herself to watch anymore.

She looked away, and Percy was gone.

#pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #house of hades #tartarus #percy in tartarus #percy alone in tartarus #house of hades rewrite #most of this was lifted from the og book #angst #heroes of olympus

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siimjaeyun · 3 years

Text

01: Immortality

Synopsis: it is part of human nature to be flawed and imperfect, maybe even vengeful when things don't go their way, and when seven boys find themselves in power to show those who are wrong that actions come with consequences, will they choose to keep their immortality?

masterlist

tw: mentions of blood, stabbing, murder, death and slight choking

-------

"Wait let me get this straight. Your solution to the problem is for us to get killed over and over again instead of reporting them to the police?" Sunoo stood at the edge of the room, completely baffled by the older boy's plan.

"You don't get it Sunoo. This is part of the plan, it's always been. Why did you think we saved you?" Sunghoon took the glass of water from counter and gulped it down slowly before staring at Jungwon and Riki.

"Your immortality is precious and it's a form of power. This is your new job."

"What job? I don't want this job." Jay let a hefty sight escape from his lips before pulling the three minors closer to him.

"I get you don't want to be immortal. None of us chose to be here. Come." Jay went to the nearest drawer and pulled out a scrapbook.

"This is before we were eighteen." Jungwon furrowed his brows and didn't see a difference between them.

"But you look the same?"

"Immortality keeps you at this age. But we were normal teens too, we had dreams." Heeseung and Jake looked down, remembering the days from their own past as well.

"Then what happened?" Riki asked.

"We don't remember much of what happened. Memories fade eventually. It's been fifteen years since we entered this new world." Jake waited for a response but instead handed the three boys their belongings.

"Go on or you'll be late. We'll keep an eye on you from afar, but just go with your mind got it?" The three youngest didn't have much to stay and reluctantly accepted the very non-existent plan.

"Are we sure about this? What if this is a prank?" Jungwon and Sunoo stopped in their tracks and looked at Riki.

"I clearly remember being dead so might as well suck it up. Team?" Jungwon put forward his hand and the others followed shouting a cheer before entering the room.

"Sorry we're late, we got lost since we're not used to the campus grounds." Three heads instantly popped up at the sound of their voice. Impossible: it was impossible for them to be alive.

"You said they were dead!" One of them whispered, close to entering into a panic.

"They were! You saw they had no heartbeat." The other responded. Their legs began to shake left and right as well as up and down due to fear, nibbling on their nails and surrounding skin.

"No worries, just take a seat." As if a feeling inside his heart was about to over take him, Sunoo felt a need to take a seat next to one of the three boys. He plopped his backpack onto the desk and gave a smile wave to the tall boy.

This was the first trial.

-----

"Hey! You three come here." The basketball players waved their hands at them in a snapping manner and if on que, Heeseung smirks when he looks down at the time on his watch.

"Humans really are predictable aren't they?" Jake agrees and continues to listen into the conversation.

"We're having a party tonight, you should come." Again, right on time.

"Uhh, I'm not sure…" Jungwon elbowed Riki in the stomach before accepting the kind invitation.

"We'll be there!" Sunoo quickly answered before looking at Jungwon with confusion.

"What are you thinking! This is a trap to clearly kill us!" Riki states in a distressed manner.

"Something is telling me to do so, plus isn't that the plan?" Jay and Sunghoon were amused at Sunoo and Jungwon's quick adaptation to their life.

"Seems like they've got this, but remember to get the car anyway." Sunghoon slung his backpack lazily over his shoulder and led the way as they waited for the second trial.

-------

The night had fallen and almost as if the stars had aligned, Heeseung glanced at his watch once more as Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki stepped into the home where the so-called party was being held. It took half an hour for the three school boys dressed in jerseys to drag out three black bags, body shaped to be exact.

"Hurry the fuck up man, before we get caught!" The other two obeyed the orders and carried the bags into the trunk of the car with much speed. A small drive later and an empty lot awaited them.

"Throw them there." The sound of shovels digging surrounded the nearby area, and with the rhythm of the sand and dirt hitting the floor, the three bodies were finally covered.

"We take this until our death beds. This better get the job done." The car drove off; it allowed for Heeseung and Jay to approach the bodies underneath the ground.

"5..4..3..2..1" The supposed to be dead boys came from behind the trees dusting themselves off from the sand.

"That was even more terrible the second time. Drugging us and then stabbing us isn't exactly fun."

"You did great. You're almost there." Jake complimented only for anger to resound in Jungwon.

"Look no offense, but I don't know if we can continue this. I don't want to relive the trauma of being murdered over and over again." He loosened his tie and threw it onto the pavement.

"I'm with Jungwon. Is this really the only way to get the job done?"

"Yes, now let's go get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a very long day." Sunghoon patted their backs and led them back.

Second trial was complete.

-------

"How are you boys holding up? Today's sort of the final trial." Jake walked into their room first thing in the morning, bearing food and other trinkets.

"To be honest, I cried myself to sleep. I'd rather be dead than be doing this. Why were we saved?" Riki asked with slight hesitancy.

"Heeseung and I asked ourselves that every single day since our murder. We were the new kids and well, these two boys weren't exactly fond of us so their plan was to kill us and they were successful. We woke up to this new life and even though I've never been able to come with a clear answer, you'll find out in time. This is a lot. I get it, but you've got each other. This job isn't fun, but you get used to it. The pain isn't even that bad." He left the room almost immediately and went with the others.

The same scenario repeated once more. Bewildered eyes met the three boys upon their entrance, and paranoia engulfed the three murderers. Heeseung went ahead and peered into the classroom. Shaky legs, check. Nail biting check. Sweat, check.

"This can't be happening. This isn't real. What if this is a prank?" Sunoo once more waved at them slightly before leaning in towards them.

"I had fun at the party last night, maybe we can do it again. Or maybe you'd like to rest since I'm sure digging and dragging must be hard work." With innocent eyes, he smiled slyly and gave a head nod to Jungwon and Riki.

"What's next? I doubt that they'd be willing to get caught up again." It was lunch time, which gave them time to decide on their next move.

"You go to them. After all, where else would you find your phone?" Riki began to feel into his pockets but found nothing.

"Damn it." Satisfied, the four left the three kids on their own.

The clock struck eight when Jungwon knocked on the familiar wooden door which was opened by the oldest school boy.

"Y-you guys. Why are you here?"

"We wanted to party like last night but I left my phone here." Jungwon went straight to the nearest bedroom and found his phone comfortably tucked away under a pillow with a recording.

"Well what do have here? A memory from last night." Sunoo pressed the small play button and let the audio run though.

"Hurry the hell up will you!"

"Did you bring your dad's car like I told you? Get on with it."

"I'm sad it had to come to this."

"Get them!" Their hands became tightly wrapped around their necks and before they knew it, they had experienced their third death.

They went back to the familiar lot, repeating the motions and excavating through the hard ground to create a burrow for the bodies.

"Dump the brown haired one first." When they managed to pat the dirt neatly and move on to the rest of the bodies, they were gone.

"Huh? Is this the end of the party? But I wanted to have more fun." Sunoo walked out first and showed a small pout while watching terror and horror overtake the players in their presence. Without a thought, the shovel was swung and he came down, falling unconscious.

"Boooo, all we wanted was to become friends. Is this really it?" Now Riki emerged from the trees, crossing his arms while glancing at Sunoo's body.

Another swing over took him, but it was time for the final show.

"Hi! I'm Jungwon and these are my friends Sunoo and Riki. Please treat us well." Jungwon tried to approach them but they instead fled towards the car, struggling to understand what was occurring.

"Get away you-you ahh!" Jungwon and Sunoo crept from behind while Riki dangled the car keys in front of them.

"Have a safe ride! Stay safe!" With the final shouts, Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon and Jay finally left the shadows.

Jay let out a maniacal laughter, which caused confusion with the three youngest.

"Good job boys. Good job." Those were the final words he told them before going home.

As sleep entered their systems, they began to wonder about their actions and Sunghoon's words from two nights before.

Humans themselves were responsible for the consequences. They were complex creatures, sure, but driven by power and greed can betray the good of anyone. They never created the killer.

Like a cycle, they went at a similar time to the school in the morning only to cause the three boys to break down in tears.

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taglist: @the-moon-lost-in-joy @twntycm

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tarasylnin-lavellan · 3 years

Text

Justice’s Decision

"You are not the hounds that I was expecting," balefully glowing blue eyes watched the pair from the trees.

"DIRTHAMENS SHADOWY BALLS DON'T DO THAT

!" Harel was near panicked by the sudden words. Cole turned to the source an exclaimed "Your here!" Tara stepped further into the weak dawn light painting her pale face in the washed out illumination. "You've come sniffing around for me, Da'len. Unfortunately, you've trekked all this way for nothing. You should leave before the inquisition truly comes bearing down its arms. I would not want to see you bloody your hands." Tara looked worn to the end of breaking and her hands shook as she rested one against a tree. "Because they will come, they will have too, they will come with dogs and armor; and I won't have them hunt you too you must run, run any direction but mine."

Harel looked at the woman before her, eyebrows climbing in frank astonishment is this truly what she believed that a hoard of hunters was on her trail? "Are you daft? Mad? Tara we came here to find you to stop you from running away! No one is hunting you!" Tara's head snapped toward Harel and she flinched at the sudden movement

"Not yet they aren't, not yet, you did get here remarkably fast however. I don't know how you found me so quickly, but for your own safety you have to run." Cole’s weak but insistent voice answered Tara's confusion "We found you when you didn't want to be found, we know you're hurting and we want to help. Please! Let me help!" Tara snarled deep in her chest an animal wounded near to madness " I didn't want to be found for good reason! You knew that Dalen, I won't have you hurt because of ME!" As the turmoil in Tara grew a deep blue light coiled out from her, darker than the previous time its darkness reflecting her own. "Just go..." the words were tired and sad.

Cole and Harel stand side by side as Tara attempts to frighten the pair off, but they're stock still, their faces unchanging even as the blue wisps lick out at them threateningly. Harel watched the display meant to panic them "we're not leaving." Cole spoke softly hearing the desperate hurt in Tara the rents in her soul. "burdens break your back till your body aches. We will help carry. We must..." Tara face goes blank as she thinks of returning the pain too much. "I cannot go back, and I cannot stop them from hunting me you can't be in the path of danger not for me. No one else is dying because I was made into a weapon No one I. will. not. allow. it." Harel started to feel an indignant anger rising in her this damned woman "WILL YOU PUT THAT STUPID FUCKING SELFLESSNESS DOWN FOR ONE SECOND!!! her fists clenched tightly in frustration "you are not a weapon, YOURE TARA! You're so much stronger than you think, please, please don't lose yourself!

Cole could feel the choking fear the panic coiling its hateful tendrils around Tara. "I don't like this. It feels cold, like wind before the storm." Harel held her hands out to Tara in supplication "no one's going to hurt you, please, just come back. No one will get you, well make sure of it please don't run away." Cole felt it then the old memory the screaming of a child taken by Hate. "There are no templars! No voices screaming! You don't have to run, shouting mamae. You don't have to.....

Tara felt herself losing control and gripped her head in dread. " They will follow you here, I made a mistake, I am a fool. I never should have allowed a Templar to love me, just even think that I was normal, that I was even close to worthy of being normal! Just go..." The light of her bound soul swirled darker wrapping close to her. Harel called trying to break the hold of the panic "you're a lot of things but a fool isn't one. you need to calm down, you're scaring Cole. And me, just a bit. You're not going to hurt us and we're afraid but we're afraid FOR you. Please. Calm down" Tara's eyes closed and tears streamed down her face "my fault, I am too blame, I knew better" she fell to her knees "I knew better. Cole felt the hurt old and jagged wrapped in layers of walls now exposed and screaming monster, a monster I am a monster. "don't drown in yourself. The lion roars in grief not in rage. Please. Don't hurt yourself, it's hurting us, hurting him." Tara choked on the fear on the hatred she felt inside " His eyes I CANT no... No I can't I just hurt people I can't" she curled around the pain "this is my fault." Cole reached trying to tug on the pain but it was so old so omnipresent that he couldnt tug it loose. "you're a sword and a scalpel and a shield. You don't hurt because you want to, like Erimond and Samson, you hurt because you have to. You protect and pretend to step above the thing in you, to be more than just the breath and the purpose. Stop hurting yourself!" A ragged sob tore from Tara "I hurt everything I touch! I cannot go back not now not ever, I cannot bear to the see fear in his eyes.... I cannot watch him break inside."

Cole felt it within her the desperate need to be accepted for this to be a bad dream. Tara wanted to stay but she was so afraid of it she ran away. But one person was there, a light shining in dark forest of her mind. "breathe. This isn't you. It's the fear, the forgotten one speaking. You can't let it talk over you and control everything. You're losing yourself to what you think will happen. Lions roar but they don't bite without reason, the serpent curls around his paws and he's silent." He conjured the thought of Dorian like a Talisman, trying to calm her down.

Tara latched onto the one person she knew didn't fear her with the desperate strength of a drowning person. "Dorian? What could he say? how could he" Her eyes began to lighten in color with her brothers mention. Cole reached for it pulling the threads in her "he shouts over the noise of the old songs, the trauma of the circle, the fires in Kirkwall. He screams instead of hissing, his love and his hate all so that the lion knows, knowledge dripping like sweat when you held him, shaking craving the blue song. He learned its name and now the lion has a shape on his tongue to call your eyes." Tara stares at the boy in desperate, sad, hope mute. But the light has returned to crystal blue and slowed curling around her like mist again. Cole reaches for the hurt and speaks "Put your sword down, the scales don't have to fill with blood. You fear the inevitable even when it isn't to be. It's ok to fear, to be afraid of what might happen, but it won't." Cole stares forward, ice blue eyes unmoving and unblinking as if he speaks to Tara and yet, not to her at all. As if he speaks to someone else entirely "Don't be afraid but don't be angry. You're safe, Da'len."

Tara wanted to believe, she needed to believe but everything she had ever learned told her otherwise. She whispers "How could he ever see past..." Cole watched her with sadness in his eyes "Monsters are real, he's seen them before. He needs to look again, like a mouse who's lost its tail to a trap, he needs to see, to know that it's not the same. Love is love and you'll give him back his tail." Tara knelt trying to pull the frayed pieces of her mind back together. Her mothers voice spoke in her heart, and she looked up "I cannot go back to the castle, not until I know, I cannot trap myself there." Cole watches as she tries to accept a new path and his voice is firm for once "we'll protect you. You won't be trapped, I promise. And if you are then...." Harel stepped up next to Cole face still and stoic for once "then we'll let you leave for good and we won't follow you. We'll even keep those people off your trail. Just....trust us."

Tara knew the path she had to take not returning and not fleeing. She had to try, she had to give him a chance, as terrifying as that was. "if he... wants answers that's his right but, he has to meet me outside of that place. My mother would kill me if I walked into a cage willingly." Cole nods feeling the old memories "Hands on my shoulder she raises her voice, but not to frighten to lecture. Don't let the shem keep you in submission. We are the People, and never again shall we submit. Eyes stern but loving, she would reprimand me if I allowed myself to be foolish." Tara nods looking at the pair decision firming in her eyes. "He can meet me, alone, in the Emerald Graves I will wait."

Harel watches as Tara breathes heavily, her purple eyes for once wide in fear instead of narrowed in disinterest. It was a shocking sight to see one so strong reduced to this mess but it was understandable. She walked this thin line, always keeping her guard up. Now that she was tired, it was only natural for her to regress. "You've chosen an interesting place, Hah'ren. May the grave of Mahariel give your conversation the strength to pull through this. Would.....would you like one of us to stay?" Tara shook her head staggering to her feet "No, no. This must be seen to alone. But thank you. I have to face him by myself."

Cole watches as he always does with his moping face drawn low, sad to leave Tara alone after such suffering. The Inquisitor could see the pain in his eyes like a wounded Halla. Tara looked at the young man "it has to be alone Cole if...if things go badly I want to.. I want it to be alone I will go there and wait This has to be done right."

Cole nods, his hat dipping down in a short stroke and never once turning upwards. Harel comforts the boy with a hand on his shoulder, trying to bring him back from his sadness of leaving the Inquisitor alone. "We're here" it is all he says before he shimmers a light green, disappearing into the darkness to find his way towards Skyhold.

Harel shakes her head, an eyebrow raised as she mutters, "Love how he expects me to keep up with his invisible ass." Its the last thing Harel says that barely draws a smirk from Tara. Just barely. The trees gather around the storm mage as she bids her companions goodbye, setting off with the same heavy heart but so much less apprehension. She makes her winding way to the heart of the vast forest feet silent on the ground. She is a phantom in this place, her path undecided. As night falls around her the shadows dull the sharpened edges of reality. she sets up camp on a high rock bluff in the great trees the song of the branches soothing and sad. Let this be the place she thinks if I have to go with Falon'din let it be here.

Cole and Harel return to skyhold quickly leading the disgruntled Hart with them. Dorian bustled through the crowd his face drawn and afraid. "please PLEASE tell me that you didn't lose her."

Harel folds her arms, appraising the worried Tevinter before speaking "She's fine and safe and super fucking rattled. But safe. She wants to meet Cullen in the Emerald Graves; her territory instead of here since you know....its kind of uninhabitable to her at the moment. Dorian lets a whoosh of held breath at the words of the half breed. "She is alive, and she is thinking at least." Cole interrupts the thought though pushing past Harel the Qunari-elf is confused at the sudden movement before he starts speaking as well. His voice is tinged with emotion as he mimics Harel's voice "I'll kill that curly haired bastard Ill shock his shit for what he's done the fucking templar!" Dorian lunged forward covering the boys mouth with his hand. Leveling a glare that could've frozen the sun at Harel he hissed "stop thinking in such vulgar terms!" Cole subsided and Dorian stood thinking "Now.....She wants to meet him in the Graves? Oh Isa'ma'lan, you make everything so planned, don't you. I've tried doing as much damage control as I can from here but...I suppose we'll have to trust what Tara will do next is the right thing. Kaffas, she worries me so."

Dorian strode alone heading for the Commanders Tower, better from him after all. Pushing open the door he sees Cullen standing behind his desk hands braced on its surface his face drawn and haggard. At the mages approach Cullen's head snaps up a worried flash in his eyes. "Is there word?!" Dorian held up a manicured hand "Pack you essentials, if you want to speak to Tara, she wants you, and you alone, in the Emerald Graves. I don't have to say do not try anything after that little talk we had, now do I?" Cullen blinks his brow furrowing "why didn't she come back here?" Dorian rolled his eyes in exasperation "The tactician that you are should know the reason. Come here, where you are? After your terrible reaction? She probably thinks you'll try to kill her and we both know how much that will hurt the both of you. At least out there, there's control in the place she feels strongest.

All right my lovelies one more chapter to this whenever I can bully my sad tired artists brain into making more ✨words✨

after that I will put all of them together into one continuous story line

as always all the love and thanks in the whole world to @w-h-4-t for the dialog help Ir lath ma Da’len

#tarasylnin #lavellen #cole dragon age #justice arc #part 4 #Harel #cullen rutherford #dragon age inquisition #dragon age

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teenage-inspiring-writer · 4 years

Text

Bakugo x Reader: Ghost of You

Author’s Note: This story is something I came up with on the spot, I’m too lazy to re-read it so if there’s typos I’m sorry. (Also Todoroki x Reader in the works😏😉)

Warnings: Brief Mentions of Suicide, Angst, Fluff, Cursing, Death.

Quirk: Blood: You can manipulate blood cells, downside is that it must be your blood.

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You both were still fairly early into your U.A years. It was the first semester of your second year, when it happened. The League of Villains had finally managed to over-throw U.A’s defenses. Leaving only the student to fight for their lives.

Class 2-A, You and Bakugo fought against several villains at once. Bakugo blasted the main villains with large explosions, accessing Midoriya and Todoroki. While you and the others concentrated on the smaller scale villains. Without realizing it, a villain grabbed a hold of you, stabbing a syringe deep into your neck. You’ve already lost a lot of blood using your own quirk trying to fight off the smaller scale villains. Before you can even detest the feeling of giving up, your body gives out. The world slowed as you began to collapse to the rough ground. You could hear Bakugo scream your name as you lose consciousness.

When you wake up, you expect to see the faces of your worn classmates. Though when you came too, all you saw was pitch black darkness. You panic. Screaming out for your boyfriend, anyone to come and save you from this eternal darkness. Then out of no where, a voice spoke. “Hi! You must be Y/n! Welcome.”you frantically look around for someone. “I’m down here” You quickly look down to see a little pixie starting at you. “Well are you going to let me up or not?” You quickly nod, lowering your hand down for her to step on. “Where are we?” “We’re in the border of this world and the next. You miss are on the brink of death.” I gasp shocked. “What-but I have to get back to bakug-“ The pixie interrupts me. “ Shh. I understand, trust me. Now I usually don’t do this but since you are so young, I will let you decide whether you want to move on to the afterlife or remain in the world of the living badly injured.” You’re about to respond until she places a small finger to your lips. “Aht before you answer, I will show you both outcomes. I know you once have thought about leaving this world, but that changed when you met the love of your life. Remember that he is affected by your choice.” You nod.

The pixie snaps her fingers and you are no longer in the darkness, instead in the U.A dorms. You notice Bakugo seated at the edge of the couch, hands lazily balanced on his knees in looks of defeat. You’re about to call out to him but again the pixie shh’s you. “He can not hear you. As I said this is an illusion, a possibility that could have if you so choose to leave this world.” You nod, watching the scene unfold. Kirishima and Kaminari walk-into the room from the kitchen, whispering to each other. “He’s been like this for days.” “Yeah Man I would say that it’s ridiculous but he loved her so much. She was his world.” Kaminari nodded with Kirishima. “She meant everything to him, she was his reason to live. The soft spot in his life, the person who was always there even when all he could do was yell. She understood him....they were soulmates.” The men glanced at Bakugo. “I know he’s suffering so much, but what are we to do? We can’t just tell him it’s going to be alright.” Kaminari pouted with a frown starring at Bakugo. “Shh Kirishima, look.” Kirishima turns his attention back to the slumped Bakugo. “DAMN IT ALL!” Is all he keeps shouting. This causes the rest of class 2-A to come out of their rooms. All of their faces fall when they see Bakugo screaming out his frustration. “WHY COULDN’T IT HAVE BEEN ME?! HMM WHY COULD SHE BE HERE WITH ME! WHY DID MY ANGEL LEAVE ME?! WHERE COULD I HAVE GONE WRONG HMM?” Bakugo starts to cry something he never did in front of everyone, but at this point he did care. He lost you. His angel sent from heaven. Midoriya and Iida come down the stairs in attempts to get bakugo to just calm down and rest. “Kacchan” is all Midoriya could say. He’s never seen his childhood friend so torn up. Bakugo contains himself and wipes his tears, then turns to face everyone in the class. “What do I do? Damn nerds what the heck am I supposed to do now? The women I love is gone. My future is gone. WHAT DO I DO NOW HUH?” All anyone can do is look sadly at him. It pains you to see him like this. So torn up and hurt just at the loss of you. You start to cry, choking back tears you ask the pixie to take you to the other illusion.

“As you wish.” She waves her hand, transporting you both to another place. This time the setting is in the hospital. You glance around, your eyes stumbling upon a figure in a hospital gown, IV’s shoved all into their arms. You float closer to see that this figure is you. Blood bags all around, some empty, some half full. Along side the blood bags was mountains of gifts, mostly get well soon cards and teddy bears, but one thing stood out to you. Dozens of bouquets of Y/f/f (your favorite flower). Little notes attached to them. The pixie begins to speak up. “If you choose to stay alive, you will be in a coma for a month, due to all of the blood transfusions you have received. You will survive, but physical therapy will be needed.” You nod. “Are these from Katsuki?” She nods. “He will drop on off everyday till you wake up. He misses you greatly, not a day goes by that you aren’t on his mind.” “Why are you telling me this? When most people die, they just move on to the other side.” She sighs. “Not always dear, some are trapped by what binds them to this world. My job is to help the souls move on, but sometimes I come across a youthful soul that just happened to get caught up in things that ended badly. You my dear or one of those people. I wanted you to know both outcomes, because that’s what most souls regret.” “Thank you, Miss Pixie. I made a decision. I choose to stay and live my like with Katsuki. I don’t care how much pain I’m in. If I get to see him again, it’s all worth it.” “Alright dear, off you go.” And with that you returned to the darkness with a feeling of hope instead of fear. You knew that this darkness would come to an end, and when you woke up, you’d see the man of your dreams.

Bonus:

After you wake up from your month long coma, and after doctors stabilized you, you were allowed visitors. The first one being Bakugo. He rushed into the room before the nurses could stop him. “Baby!” You’ve never seen him so expressive in public. He usually likes to keep your love to yourselves but times have changed. “Kat! I missed you so much.” “I missed you too dumbass. Don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear me. Otherwise I’ll blow your ass to pieces, got me?” You simply nod, pulling him into a bone crushing hug, which he gladly accepts. You open your eyes to pull away from the embrace to see a blue glowing pixie, the same one from the darkness. She winks and smile then zooms off. ‘Thank you so much pixie for being me back to him.’

#bakugou fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #mha x reader #mha bakugou #bnha katsuki x reader #bnha fluff #bnha angst #bnha x reader #mha imagines

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