#danger to training w piercings. nothings getting hurt or tugged

[haemosexuality]

I Am Someone Who Is Terrified Of Making People Mad At Or Disappointed With Me. I Never Ever Affirm Myself Or Go Against What Anyone Irl Says To Me Ever Because Of It. I Am In A Situation Rn Where I Need To Do That Tho And The Longest I Put It Off The More It Negatively Affects Me. I Want To Cry.

#its not anything serious its like #well i train karate. and i just got piercings #im still a rlly low (red) belt so its not like im idk getting punched in the face. or getting my face touched at all. so theres not any #danger to training w piercings. nothings getting hurt or tugged #my sensei tho is a conservative 30 something who is Really into the Rulestm #and said i have to take off any jewerly piercings or earrings before training #which i am fine w doing once its healed. its not tho #and its ideal to wait between 6 months and a year to take piercings out for long periods of time (training takes 1:30-2hrs) #cause the holes can start closing really fast #so. if i followed his rules id have to not train karate for like a year. which i am obviously not fucking doing. especially cause i plan #to get more piercings so id just have to stop training forever #so i need to. talk to him. and explain. and be like ik what u said but im gonna have to break that rule. because i wanted to get piercings. #its not serious but im so scared of doing that its making me want to cry wifuewhguihugyg #esp bc i am also disabled a bit ig and i cant follow the rythm of other students and hes always been so understanding and great ab it #it feels shitty to be like hey fuck you im breaking ur rules #like who am I to do that #ugh #i asked ppl on the piercing subreddit and a guy there who is a sensei said that it should be fine to train w piercings #so it is probably just a Traditiontm thing yk #once its healed enough that i can at least change the jewelry i plan to swap it all for clear silicon bars #so its soft and not noticeable #but that will also take at least a few months #it negatively affects me if i put it off for too long cause this shit takes practice i havent been in class for over a month im gonna suck

[pretty-thoughts-and-a-pen]

The One They Feared (4)

Tagging: @quirkykayleetam , @noturaverageamoeba (proud of this one!)

CW: Captivity, manhandling, malnourishment (mentioned), dehumanization, blood, fantasy whump, monster whump.

That day, they must’ve decided Jacques was as good as dead.

From the moment he had opened his eyes, presumably in the morning, the atmosphere had changed, and not for the better. A blanket of silence was draped around him, broken only by footsteps that sometimes thundered up and down the corridor outside his cell. Fast, urgent and never close enough to his door to open it. Jacques shifted as much as he could within his bonds and nervously chewed his bottom lip. Too odd. No one had come to check on the prisoner, or gawk, or beat him bloody. Or, in most cases, subject him to the torture of their magic out of a sick sense of righteousness, or worse, for fun.

Just the fact that they had let him wake up naturally was too suspicious.

Occasionally, he would hear screams, too far away and muffled to make out any words from. The disarrayed footsteps were gradually falling into rhythms, the sounds of entire groups marching and chattering amongst themselves could be heard, from beyond the door, and beyond the walls on all four sides. Jacques was immobile and sitting in the middle of a hurricane of bustle, just barely muffled enough by the cold walls that kept him company. A trapped bird, with no idea when the cage door would open.

And then it did.

As much as Jacques had dreaded having to be alone and ignorant of what was going on, he would’ve preferred that feeling to the ice cold fear that stabbed through his chest when he saw Frederick. The Sorcerer coming to visit was too unexpected. Normally, he rarely ever made an appearance, and when he did it was only with the intention of hurting him – giving him “what he deserved” – and always with Azure alongside. Now he came alone, and the state he was in was unlike any Jacques had seen him in before.

Too unexpected, and the unexpected was never welcome.

Hair mussed, as if he had constantly run his hands through it, and clothes ruffled from being put on too hastily. Sweat soaked through the fabric, and droplets of it dripped from his brow down his face and neck. He panted heavily, his chest heaving and hands shaking, and worst of all, his eyes held a wild light that spoke a thousand emotions – most prominently, panic.

For only a split second, he looked at Jacques from the doorway with a frozen stare. Jacques met him head on, his eyes hardened, though his body still trembled. Frederick ran his hand through his hair once more, seemingly contemplating the worse out of an array of options. Finally, he stepped forward, quick and urgent, and grabbed Jacques’s arm in a bruising grip. His other hand rummaged through his coat pocket and produced a key.

Jacques gritted his teeth and tried to keep his eyes from screwing shut. He needed to see what was happening. Frederick wouldn’t free him, he would be the last person on earth to do so. But, unlike Azure, he would never face Jacques head on and not cuffed. From the beginning it had been clear, Frederick’s motivation was not pure sadism or alleviating boredom. He acted out of fear. The aim was to subjugate the threat he saw in Jacques.

So why...?

“Up.” Frederick’s voice was strained, his dry throat making his voice scratch. Jacques felt the fingers gripping his arm come alive with tingles, before a shock coursed through his body and made him cry out. His exhausted form convulsed, cuts formed on his skin from rubbing against the stone wall and floor. In that limp moment, Frederick hauled him onto his feet. Try as he might, Jacques just didn’t have the ability to stand straight, and he was left leaning against Frederick, shivering and cursing himself ten times over for his weakness.

Frederick’s breathing was still erratic, something Jacques couldn’t help but note. His former teacher had never gotten so worked up, even when he was afraid, he at the very least kept control of his physical reactions. The man clasped Jacques’s wrists, tightly in one hand, and began leading him away. For a long time, all Jacques had wished for was to step out of the room, to turn his back on those cold walls and never enter again. The door, so close and yet so far, had been the single most beautiful destination he could think of reaching; its threshold, the one place he wanted to rest his feet, and from there just keep going, going and going forward.

Now that he was stepping over it, all he heard was echoing alarm bells in his mind.

“W-why...” Jacques didn’t know how to end the sentence, neither was he sure he would get an answer. But one thing he wouldn’t do was trust the Sorcerers’ intentions. Mercy? Goodwill for him? The thoughts were enough to make him scoff. Those people had nothing but contempt in their corrupted hearts, nothing but hate for whom they called...a monster.

Frederick didn’t speak until they reached the end of the corridor. He didn’t speak as he fumbled with the lock on the door. Jacques was ready to shout it out louder with his next breath, he needed to know what was going to happen to him. But Frederick eventually did answer.

What he said made Jacques wish for the blissful ignorance he had previously dreaded.

“Demon's gotten over the border,” Frederick gritted out as he threw open the door, the sound gaining the attention of anyone who happened to be running by, “and we're letting you kill it with that unholy power of yours. Aren’t you lucky...”

If he said anything else, Jacques didn’t hear it. His brain seemed to have shut down, for a moment he was lost, adrift, feeling submerged in the panic inside his own mind. Fighting the monsters, the demons that inhabited the bordering forest had been his goal. It was what he had trained for, so he could protect the ones he loved. But now, he had been made incapable. Too weak, too broken down, too fragile. They couldn’t imagine that he could survive a fight against a demonic creature. They couldn’t. The probably didn’t. Azure was too smart, then again, he was just as callous, and probably waiting to see Jacques torn apart in a last stand, used only as a pawn for the Legion’s success until the very end.

The sunlight he had yearned for before, was much colder on his stretched skin than he remembered. Beside him, Frederick chuckled humourlessly.

“Help from a monster,” he mused to himself, and Jacques couldn’t find the strength to correct him. “But I suppose...

...you have to fight fire with fire.”

***

“Tch, what a shame.” Tugged out into the open, surrounded by Sorcerers and apprentices and some of the common people brought here for safety, Jacques’s chin was gripped in the vice that was Azure’s hand. The Sorcerer forced him to look right in his eyes as he spoke. Somehow, through the grave stare of the man, a hint of amusement at Jacques’s predicament burst through.

“I always did think you were something special.” His face was close now, and his voice low, so the next words reached Jacques’s ears only. “Try not to die before dealing some damage, you have to prove yourself useful for something.

But in the end, every monster has to be put down.

You, or them.”

***

It was the first time since his capture that Jacques’s leather gloves were off.

He had been left, somewhere near the very Eastern border of town, alone. Impossible. It was impossible, and cruel, and utterly ridiculous that the one thing he had wished for, to be outside his cell, was turning into a nightmare. Freedom should’ve been sweet. Though, could this be counted as freedom? He had been dropped off at the mouth of the lion’s cave, not to let him walk his own path, but to face the beast that no one else dared face.

As soon as the Sorcerers escorting him had removed the chains, they had rushed away and back to the institute as fast as they could. All sorts of magic were used, just to put distance between themselves and Jacques. The injustice of it all made Jacques’s heart ache. For he would never, ever, dream of using his power on another person. He remembered the moment his ability had surfaced for the first time. He had smiled, almost screamed with joy, at the thought of seeing the fruit of his training.

He had grinned and laughed.

While his classmate had been crushed by the invisible force he wielded, and had crumpled to the floor, her face tight with horror and yet incapable of making a sound, her form dissolved from the magic and her soul ripped out of her body.

Jacques’s chest was tight with the need to shed tears, to scream, and to run out of this fenced in clearing he was stood in, waiting to unleash the abominable power he had dedicated his life to training for, and the same one that had ruined him.

He couldn’t bring himself to wield it. The thought repulsed him, struck his heart cold with fear, and brought to mind the one word he refused to identify with.

Monst-

The first sign was the grass trembling. The ground shook; neither the rocks and dirt, nor the trees were spared from the waves of magic emanating through the air, and then, right in front of Jacques, a clawed hand pushed out of the dirt, stretching for the sky.

His eyes locked onto claws as sharp as daggers, and he was paralyzed. This was never how a new Sorcerer’s first interaction with such danger was meant to go.

An arm, a torso, and then a head followed. The creature’s skin looked charred, stretched painfully thin over the hideous shape of its skeleton. The protruding spikes made ten times more eerie, by the fact that they looked like jutting out bones, piercing its sides, its arms, its legs and neck. Two hollow eye sockets fixed onto him, and when a snarl left its mouth, the scratched layer pulled over its teeth lifted up to reveal two rows pointed fangs, all crooked, stuck in a jaw that was mottled with veins.

Jacques couldn’t breathe. How was he to defend? Attack? How could he channel magic? Every part of his training evaporated from his mind, all he could remember were the promises his teachers had made in the initial days, of always having their students’ backs and gently easing them into the battle they had chosen. Not before they were ready. That’s what Frederick and Azure and all the rest had promised.

As Jacques scrambled away, shrieking when the creature’s arm lashed out and sank its claws into his leg, he was reminded of how utterly alone and outmatched he was. Because of them – the ones who couldn’t keep a promise.

He was dragged back and sobs escaped him freely. His body was too battered, too malnourished to put up a fight, and when the second arm grabbed him, claws sank into his side and back with no resistance. Only tortured screams coming from Jacques as he was lifted up. He pushed at the arms, kicked his dangling legs as much as he could, but there was only so much he could do with no weapon.

...except one.

Jacques almost gave up. Almost. He didn’t even know if he was capable of conjuring his ability anymore, if he had the strength, or if Soul Manipulation would even work on a creature he was willing to bet, did not have one to manipulate. He almost gave in, when his attempt to call forth his power only made his fingers shiver slightly. That was it. And the creature was starting back for the forest now, with Jacques limp and defenceless in its claws. He came so close to giving up. Almost, almost...

Except he knew, he didn’t deserve to die like this.

And he realised, he would never hand over victory to the Legion so easily.

And he thought he saw a face, far away in the distance, peering out of the window of a safe house. A terrified expression, a hand covering the mouth, tears streaking down the cheeks, and on seeing it he felt a jolt of recognition hit him like a brick.

The surge of energy that travelled straight to his hands was enough.

Not alone and not abandoned, Jacques was truly powerful. By sheer willpower, he commanded the creature’s life force to fold in, drain its body and implode in its chest, taking its form with it. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and soon the creature’s snarls turned to agonized groans. Its monstrous head flew back, it stumbled as well, and when the arms holding Jacques went boneless and dropped him to the ground, the air became clear and the sunlight warm again. Relief, power, and the sheer focus gained by channelling magic went straight to Jacques’s head. He was lying in a pool of his blood, open wounds tearing away at his torso and leg, not even letting him stand on his two feet, and all he could think about was the effect of Soul Manipulation, unfolding before him, crushing his enemy.

Its scream was chilling. The already distorted body contorted further, ashen skin falling off its limbs like charred snowflakes. Jacques felt, intuitively somehow, the concentration of its soul into the centre of its chest. Whether or not its life force could be considered a soul, as humans’ were, he wasn’t sure. Neither did he much care. His powers were working, and that was all that mattered.

When it collapsed, Jacques knew its extremities were as good as dead weight. To finish the job, he simply curled his hands into fists, in front of his chest. Why, or how, he knew to do it, escaped his mind. All he wanted was this thing gone; all he wanted was to feel safe for two seconds in a world that seemed bent on preventing exactly that.

Its life force snuffed out. The creature that was to be the end of Jacques, was now nothing more than a heap of coal black flakes, spikes, fangs, and claws, slumped on the ground that was supposed to be soaked in Jacques’s blood.

Not that it wasn’t.

Jacques slumped. Red soaked his clothes, dripped down his legs, and covered his hands which he stared at. From his position on the ground, he could only focus on taking deep breaths and staring in disbelief at the demon he had slayed. He had never allowed himself to imagine he could do it; he had no idea what to expect next. Was anyone coming for him? Did the Sorcerers have a plan set in case he survived? He wished he wasn’t thinking about this in what could be his last moments. If he was to survive, he did not want it to be only so he could go back to his prison, to beg for mercy from captors who didn’t even have kindness to spare for those they truly hated.

The wind was settling down around him now. He thought he heard noises – shouting, footsteps. He wanted to block them out, and if he’d had any energy he would’ve covered his ears, and made them hear his own shouts. Instead, he lay immobile, lying in the middle of the hurricane of his fears, not even muffled by any comfort that could keep him company.

The shouting was distant, only this time it didn’t come closer. Eventually, it faded out, until the sound of one pair of footsteps running towards him was all that could be heard. Jacques’s head was turned the other way, and he squeezed his eyes shut, his arm braced to bear a bruising grip.

Someone collapsed heavily next to him, and a hand gingerly cradled his neck.

Then, he had to turn and look. Initially, only sharp rays from the sun entered his eyes, making him squint at the darkened figure that knelt beside him. His aching head was pulled into the man’s lap, and as Jacques blinked the sun spots away, a single tear dripped onto his cheek. And this time, not from his own eyes.

A face came into view. Short blonde hair framing an angular face, with lines of tears falling down the smooth cheeks. The same one he had seen in the window, the one whose mere sight had helped him turn the tide. And then, Jacques finally saw two sparkling blue eyes staring at him.

The sunlight regained all the warmth he had remembered it to have.

“Jacques...”

It was the voice of his childhood best friend, the man who had stood beside him always, helped his family with his ailing mother, and supported him in fulfilling his dreams. William's voice swept over him and reminded him of exactly what he fought for, and would continue to fight for. The safety of his family, his friends back home, and of course, his best friend who had raced into the clearing, almost as soon as the threat was down, just to help him. The people in the safe house with him had shouted after him, trying to warn him of the danger, perhaps even not to assume that the guy who had slayed the monster wasn’t one himself. He had come anyway. With bundles of cloth that he was now wrapping firmly around Jacques’s body and limbs, trying to mitigate the blood flow.

“Will...”

Jacques had missed him the whole time he had been in training.

Soft words of reassaunce spilled out his lips as Will worked, he choked on sobs as he told Jacques how much he had missed him, how worried and scared he had been. Eventually, Will put one arm around his shoulders, the other under his legs, and went to lift him. “We need to get you some help.” He grimaced at Jacques’s groans, and straightened slowly and carefully.

Jacques couldn’t find his voice, until he was in a bridal carry with Will's strong arms wrapped around him. Then he had to speak up. “D-Don’t try to help me, Will. They...” he took in pained breaths and wished he didn’t have to see the horror painting his friend's face, “...they don’t want me healed. I don’t want...you to get hurt...”

His head collapsed onto Will's shoulder. Already, the taller man was walking as fast as he could back towards town. “The Legion,” he hesitantly started, “they’ve said a lot about the resurgence of an evil power, how they’ve trapped the user. They said...he’s a monster.” With every word the discomfort between them grew, but Will seemed determined to speak his mind. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed in the distance. “They revealed your name, your power, everything. I- I was so worried for you. But I know you.” He leaned his head onto Jacques’s hair, and for once, the pain in Jacques’s own head dulled. “And I know you could never be what they said you were.

You’re not a monster.”

Jacques could’ve cried. He wanted to freeze this moment and replay it over and over. The worst thing that could happen right now was time passing, leading to Will getting him to a hospital, and eventually, the Legion finding him again. The Sorcerers controlled the town, everyone trusted them and everyone did what the asked. They had to. Jacques would be handed back, he knew it, and the thought of being ripped away from Will again seemed too much to bear.

“Let’s not talk about that right now,” he mumbled into the fabric against his cheek. He didn’t know when he would feel it again, when the cool breeze would sweep past him again, or when his skin would bask in sunlight again. He could only make the most of this moment.

He could only enjoy every second before he was brought back to the hate, cruelty, and contempt at home. Already, it could be seen on the faces of the common people who scurried away and hid as they approached.

#writing #mywriting #whump #fantasy whump #captivity #magic #fantasy #comfort #wow i write comfort?