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cordeliawhohung · 5 months

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Everything You Touch - Part 4

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part nine of "soft spot"

"You deserve better."

warnings: canon typical violence, ptsd, description of panic attack/anxiety, brief accidental/unintentional self harm, a lot of hurt, a crumb of comfort.

wc: 5.3k

Hospitals always had a way of smelling like bleach and death.

No matter how much cleaning and scrubbing was done, it always lingered in the halls and in the pores of every single brick of the building. Simon hated the scent, and he wanted nothing more than to leave that place far behind him, but he couldn’t. Not with you stuck in that stale bed with a brace around your neck.

After stabilizing your condition at a local hospital, they flew you off to St Mary’s Hospital in London as its trauma center was one of the few hospitals in the city that could handle a case like yours. Severe strangulation, a gunshot wound that had torn through your axillary artery as easy as shredding tissue paper. You should have died, and Simon was well aware of that fact, but by some miracle you were alive.

No thanks to him.

Over the last two days, Simon had heard so much medical jargon he was certain he could quit his job in the military and become a doctor. He had every single ailment of yours memorized, and he couldn’t stop repeating them in his mind. A high energy wound from a deformed round had torn through the soft tissue in your chest just under your arm, severing your axillary artery. If it wasn’t for Kyle’s quick thinking, and John’s call for an air ambulance, you would have bled out. On top of that you also had a grade two concussion, two fractured ribs on the right side of your body, and three on your left, a hairline fracture in your hyoid bone, and grade one laryngeal edema. You weren’t malnourished or dehydrated at least, and that fact alone changed everything about your survival. Had you been treated any worse, he would have been sitting next to a grave instead of a bed.

Two days. Two days of sitting there watching you slip in and out of consciousness. Whatever medicine they had hooked you up to was strong, and probably for good reason. It was selfish of him to wish you’d wake up, to wish you’d open your eyes and greet him with a smile as if everything was okay. As if he hadn’t held you through what he thought were your final moments. As if he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep because of the pure anxiety and rage that flooded his system.

He should have made their deaths slower. He wanted to, anyway. For the time you had spent sleeping in the hospital, he kept replaying the way Bukin had called you darling. He hated the way the bile rose to his throat whenever he thought of it, and he knew he should have caused more pain, should have drawn his death out. When he was younger, before he joined the force, he was an apprentice to a butcher. People weren’t all too different from pigs, and he was still just as good with a knife. But he couldn’t take that luxury when you stood there to watch it all.

A soft sigh brought him out of his thoughts, and Simon’s eyes landed on you again. It was impossible to tell if you were just visiting for a short while, or waking up for real, but just as he did the other times, he reached forward and took your hand in his. Your hospital wristband rustled against the fabric of your blankets, and he found his fingers absentmindedly playing with it. Because you had arrived at the hospital with a gunshot wound, and there was slight concern about someone coming after you, they had given you the fictitious name of Jane Doe in an attempt to protect you from further harm that could come your way. Your date of birth was also wrong, as they made you three years older than you really were.

“Si-...?” you attempted, but your voice failed halfway through. It was like that time you were a kid sick with laryngitis. Your voice was much deeper than it was supposed to be, and the words refused to vibrate properly in your throat.

“Hey,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, “try not to talk too much. Your throat is still pretty swollen.”

Everything felt light, like you were floating, but not in a way that was comforting. It reminded you of how everything felt when you first woke up in that basement. How sick you felt and how Leon wrapped his arm around you to keep you upright. Or that rot in your chest as you sat crumbled in the sand on the beach. The overwhelming scent of his cologne on the jacket he made you wear, his hand on your wrist, hands around your throat, choking, crushing, breaking-

“Sweetheart, hey, hey,” Simon said softly. As he reached out and wiped the tears that you hadn’t even been aware was streaming down your face, you tried to remember the last time you had heard him speak so softly to you. Like he thought his voice would shatter you. “You’re alright, you’re safe. I’m here now, yeah?”

The heart monitor showed proof of your anxiety, but as Simon kept talking he filled the noise in your head with him instead. It was just him and his thumb wiping gently at your cheeks. He was so warm, and you found yourself taking breath after deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself down. His mask was on, that same odd skull patterned one he wore when he saved you, but his eyes were just as expressive.

You reached your other hand up and gently pawed at the plastic brace around your neck. After wiping away another stray tear, Simon grabbed that hand and gently pulled it away from your throat. Holding both of your hands in his, he continued to rub his thumbs across your knuckles.

“You’re still pretty swollen, so you’ll have to keep that on. Try not to move your neck,” he instructed as if he was a doting parent.

Was this real? Were you out of that basement, out of Leon’s reach? It had to be real. Simon’s touch was as soft as it always was, and the scent of the hospital was just as stale and vile as you remembered it being as a child. You attempted another deep breath, but you became suddenly aware of the pain that coursed through your body and winced. Everything hurt, but it felt far away at the same time, like you felt the aches through a veil.

Sniffling a little, you snaked one of your hands out of Simon’s and reached for his left arm. Everything was fuzzy, but you remembered that he had been shot in his arm. Johnny had cracked some sort of joke about it, so you knew it wasn’t bad, yet you still worried. Even as you laid in a hospital bed hooked up to machines and tubes, you still worried about him.

“Just a flesh wound sweetheart, nothin’ to worry about,” he assured you. His eyes studied you for a short moment before dropping down. You thought he looked at your throat, until you remembered the new pain that blossomed in an odd area along the side of your chest. “Should be more concerned with the wound you got.”

You made a pitiful attempt to look down at yourself, but the brace on your neck made it impossible to do so. Which was certainly for the best, because you didn’t want to know how badly it would have hurt if you bent your throat in such a way. Instead, you pulled your hand away from Simon’s arm and gestured to your chest with a quizzical look on your face. Or, at least what you hoped was a quizzical look.

“Yeah,” he confirmed as he grabbed your hand again. It was like he couldn’t stop touching you. “Got a few fragments left in you, but nothin’ the doctors couldn’t handle. Guess we got you in the best goddamn trauma center in the country.”

Even with everything that happened, he tried to make light of the situation; probably in an attempt to not worry you. Maybe you shouldn’t have been worried. It didn’t hurt to breathe anymore than it had previously, so the bullet hadn’t gone through your chest or punctured a lung. You were lucky that it wasn’t worse.

God, what a sour thought that was. Thinking you were lucky; thinking you should be grateful to have survived such atrocities.

Your vision grew a little fuzzy, and you found yourself staring off into space as your mind wandered again. Everything felt too real and so fake at the same time; like the pain was faux. You should have been able to hop out of that bed and head to work, and your co-workers wouldn’t even spare you a second glance because there was no way you were gone for as long as you thought you had been. Yet at that same time, you should have been dead. Should have been laying splayed out on your back with dry eyes that stared up at the seagulls finding solace and food in the flesh of your body. Perhaps a part of you did die; some part of you was left to rot in that orchard.

“Wh-t h…ppened?” you asked. Voice still failing you, you made sure to choose simple words. Tingling pain mingled in your throat, and your mouth felt itchy.

“The boys and I brought you home,” Simon answered softly. But that answer was too short - too blunt - and even he knew that, so he swallowed and tried again: “You were in pretty rough shape. You’ve got a few fractured bones and your throat is messed up bad. But you’re safe now, they can’t hurt you. I promise.”

Such a funny way to say that he killed them. Not that you blamed him at all; how could you when you had attempted to slaughter Leon with a steak knife? You remembered exactly what it was like standing there as you watched Simon dig the heel of his boot into Leon’s shattered arm. Remembered what color dead grass turned when blood pooled under it.

Fertilizer. That’s what he had called you. A task that ended up being bequeathed to him instead.

“I need you to get some rest, yeah?” he continued. “Doc says he won’t send you home until you’ve healed up some.

It wasn’t much, but you squeezed his hand in response. You weren’t sure if it was because the state your body was in or because of the various medicines they pumped through you intravenously, but you were tired. The type of tired where you didn’t care if you woke up or not. Simon carefully raised your hands up and pressed delicate kisses to your knuckles through the fabric of his mask. When you were in that basement, all you wanted was for Simon to hold you, to feel his touch again, to be bathed in his warmth. Now that you were finally out, everything felt muted. Everything was spoiled.

No, you were just tired. That was all. So you closed your eyes again and listened to the steady hum of the machines around you. They sounded similar to the machines your mother had been hooked up to when receiving treatment when you were a kid. You used to take naps listening to those beeps. Things always had an odd way of coming back to you. Comforted by the auditory proof of your own existence, you faded away into sleep once more under Simon’s careful gaze.

But what Simon didn’t know was that the very moment you finally woke up, the nightmares began. They chased after you in sleep, in consciousness; it didn’t matter. Even in death Leon’s hands still wrapped around your throat; even after you were well enough that they removed your brace; even after the swelling went down; even while holding Simon’s hand. Always small. Always weak.

Things only got worse when you were well enough to be sent home. There was something dehumanizing walking into your home and not being able to recognize the smell. It was cold, bitterly so, as the drafty window was something your landlord still refused to fix. Boo, who had grown much too big much too fast and was without his cast trotted towards the entrance as a cooing mess. In what was surely an attempt to trip you, he rubbed against your legs in greeting, and Simon assisted you in settling in.

And though everything was the same as how you had left it, something was wrong. A crawling feeling overtook your skin every time you looked at the floor in the living room. The air smelled stale like you were in a coffin rather than a home. Dinner tasted more like blood than it did soup. Did it all change in such a short amount of time? Did you just not recognize it? Or was it just you that had changed? A stranger in your own home?

“I want to shower,” you said suddenly.

It was the first thing you had said throughout the entirety of dinner. You stared down at the half eaten bowl of soup in your hands. Your voice sounded better, and your throat didn’t spasm every time you swallowed, but you were still restricted to a liquid food diet more or less.

“A bath would be easier,” Simon countered. His spoon had been clinking against the side of his bowl for some time, but you knew him better than that. He had probably finished eating quite some time ago. “Can’t get your wound wet. I could run one for you.”

You swallowed another spoonful of soup. It wasn’t until your stomach began to churn that you realized it had gone cold. “Okay.”

Neither of you moved for what felt like forever. Weights kept you held down by your ankles, and all you did was move your spoon around the thick liquid in the bowl. You almost hadn’t realized that Simon stood from his seat until his hand brushed against the side of your face. You didn’t jump, but your heart lurched so hard it almost hurt, and still you gazed up at him with dull eyes. His hand smoothed over your hair, eyes studying your face carefully, before he slowly leaned down and pressed a firm kiss against the crown of your head.

“C’mon,” he said, pulling away. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You followed behind Simon as he led you to the bathroom. Boo trotted along still hellbent on tripping you and purring the whole time while doing so. He didn’t seem scared even when Simon turned the water on, and he perched himself on top of the counter behind you as you began to undress. Healing was agonizing, and taking longer than you wanted it to, and tasks such as dressing and undressing were no longer as simple as they used to be.

That deep ache in your chest had dulled over time, but hadn’t quite gone away, and was still aggravated whenever you bent over, but you were still able to get your pants and socks off with relative ease. The real trouble came when you tried to take your shirt off. Raising your left arm was impossible with your wound, but you tried your best to wiggle out of the clothing anyway. A particularly painful pinch shot through your chest when you attempted to raise your arm, drawing a wince out of your sore throat.

“Here,” Simon spoke up softly.

He was very well versed in taking your clothes off, but he had never been so gentle about it before. You let your arms go limp as he slid the fabric of your shirt across your body, freeing your right arm and exposing your torso. He moved the collar over your head, and gently straightened your left arm so he could slide the rest off of you. Due to your injury, you weren’t able to wear a bra, so you were fully exposed to the chilly air.

A fuzzy paw tapped your back and you turned around to give Boo some much needed and deserved attention, but the moment you caught sight of yourself in the mirror, you froze. Maybe you just hadn’t paid attention, but you couldn’t remember the last time you looked at yourself. Really looked at yourself. Stale bruises littered the delicate skin of your throat. Pale red burst capillaries stained the whites of your eyes, though there were very few left over after your time healing.

Then, of course, there was the obvious. Thick gauze covered the wound itself in order to keep it clean and avoid infection, and it was then that you realized you hadn’t actually seen the damage that had been caused. You had seen the blood that poured from it, and felt how terribly the bullet burned as it tore through you, but hadn’t seen how bad it mangled your flesh. You were sure it was for the best, in some way, but you didn’t need to see it in order to tell the extent of the damage.

The gauze stuck to the side of your breast and extended up over your chest and under your armpit in order to stay secure. Without an exit wound there was no need to patch up anywhere else on your body, but you could see the bruising peek out from underneath the pristine white dressings.

Simon’s fingers ghosted along your right shoulder as he stood behind you. His eyes found you in the mirror, and it took you a moment before you were able to do the same. You wanted to tell him how silly you thought it all was. How you felt so terrible despite the evidence of your pain being so minimal. You thought that after everything you went through, you would be nothing left but a pile of flesh and blood. There should have been more scars, some sort of disfiguration, and yet you were the same woman just painted a different color.

Your body healed faster than you did.

When you were ready, Simon helped lower you into the tub where the steamy water enveloped your body. As much as you wanted to lay back, close your eyes, and let go, you needed to stay sitting up in order to keep your dressings dry. Boo hopped off the counter with a chirp before jumping up to sit on the edge of the tub. Curious, he pawed at the water before leaning down to drink from it.

“Why’d you have to snatch up the weird one?” Simon asked teasingly, though his voice fell flatter than he would have liked.

You tried to laugh, or smile even, but nothing came. There was something strange about talking about such domestic things. After everything that had happened, you had expected all the good to be sapped from your life. It felt like the only thing you should have been allowed to talk about was pain and death and yet there you were, sitting in a tub with your cat drinking up the water like an idiot.

As Simon settled on the floor next to the tub, you noticed Boo’s right paw was deformed. For the most part it was intact, but it seemed flatter than his other paw. You remembered his pained squeak when Leon had attacked you, how he had gotten in the way and fell victim to another one of that monster's merciless acts.

“His paw,” you pointed out softly, hand sloshing in the water to point. Boo took your pointing as an invitation to sniff your finger, and then lick the water that dripped from it.

“Yeah, got messed up pretty good,” Simon concurred as he leaned across the tub to grab your body wash. “Had him in a cast for a bit. Strong little bugger. Shoulda seen him hobbling around with it on.”

He presented you with your body wash and a fresh rag and you contemplated the items for a moment before carefully reaching out for them. It had been a long time since you washed yourself with items that belonged to you. You breathed in the familiar scent of the soap as you rubbed it into the rag and then along your skin. It didn’t smell how you remembered it, but it was better than plain water.

You thought back to the time you and Simon had gone on holiday when that terrible nightmare of your father plagued you. You remembered how Simon’s arms wrapped around you and held you close to his chest as you let the water wash over you. He had asked you if you wanted to talk about it; he always had a habit of knowing your feelings better than you did. Though talking about it would have done some good, you said no. Why had you even done so? What was the reason? Were you afraid? Whatever it was, you regretted it, because you feared then that you’d never be able to talk to him about anything ever again.

Would never be able to tell him what happened; what Leon said, what he did. How he tried saying he and Simon were the same - that your lover was a violent man. That he liked to watch you squirm. How could you tell him all of that? About how you fell to the sand hoping and praying to feel his touch again? How you had to wear Leon’s coat? And the scent that clung to it - clung to you - no matter how much you scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, and-

“Hey, easy,” Simon warned softly.

His hands carefully wrapped around your wrists and pulled them away from your body. Fresh abrasions prickled across the now raw skin on your wrist from the intensity of your cleansing, and the rag was promptly removed from your hand. Simon attempted to get you to look at him, but your vision was too blurry to see anything correctly.

“I can’t,” you spoke, and it was only then that you realized you were crying, “can’t get clean, can’t do it, Simon I- it’s-”

Water sloshed around you, and Boo ran off as it spilled over the side of the tub. Strong arms wrapped securely around your center as you felt your back collide with something firm. Simon had climbed into the tub behind you, fully clothed, with legs on either side of your body. His chin rested on top of your head and you found your arms wrapping around yourself as he embraced you.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he coaxed as he swayed as much as the confines of the tub would allow him to. “I’m right here. Need ya to slow down and breathe, yeah? Just focus on me, nothing else. It’s just me and you.”

If it wasn’t for Simon holding you together, you were certain you would have crumbled. It wasn’t a pretty sight or feeling; being broken. That knowing even in death Leon still had a hold of you. But you focused on Simon, how his legs had to be bent in order to fit in the tub with you, how you could feel intermittent kisses to the top of your head. The tattoo on his arm glistened as the water clung to his skin, and you found your head falling back to lean against his chest. You listened to his breathing and tried to match his pace; felt his heart thud against your back and willed your body to steady itself. Boo licked himself furiously in some corner, paws having gotten wet from the displaced bath water.

Nothing had changed.

“Your arm,” you said between stuttering breaths.

“It’s fine,” he assured you.

You knew that it probably wasn’t. Warm water had a particular way of making fresh wounds sting, but worrying about it wouldn’t change anything. Even though you wanted to, you needed to focus on staying with Simon and not slipping away somewhere else again.

“I thought of you. When I was in Urzikstan,” he said when your breathing finally slowed. He placed another quick kiss to the top of your head and loosened his grip as he ran his hands gently up and down your arm. “Couldn’t get you off my mind. Kept thinking ‘bout every moment I ever spent with you. That god awful movie we saw together at the cinema. The first time we kissed. You’re the only thing on this earth I care about and I fucked up. This shoulda never happened and that’s on me.”

You shook your head, skull rolling along his clavicle. A pulsing pain bounced along the soft tissue of your brain as it protested the movement, but you did your best to ignore it. “Stop,” you said, but you weren’t mad. You were too tired to be mad. “I already know what you’re going to say. I don’t care.” You paused to swallow, your voice still not used to speaking so much at once. “Doesn’t matter whose fist comes at me, I’ve been doing this my whole life. But I’ve never had someone to pick me up until you. So don’t-” Your voice failed you, and you weren’t sure if it was because of your throat, or because of the cry you tried to suppress. “Don’t you fucking dare say it.”

So he didn’t. All of those words on his tongue dissipated and dissolved into his blood where it festered and boiled. He didn’t agree with you a single bit. Had he torn that picture of you to shreds the moment he found it in his pocket, Bukin would have had nothing to use against him. Would have never found you. It wasn’t supposed to be like that at all. You were the one who was supposed to take care of him because you were supposed to be unharmed. Instead, he suffered from a broken nose and malnourishment, and you had taken the bullet meant for him.

Instead he relished in the fact that he had you in his arms, that he could breathe in your scent, feel your warmth. It shouldn’t have happened at all, but he was going to take what he could get.

“This can’t be comfortable,” you pointed out after a while as you tugged on his sopping wet jeans. You said it as if Simon hadn’t tried to confess something, as if you hadn’t just experienced a panic attack; like things were okay.

“Been through worse,” Simon said dryly.

“Really?” you asked as if sincere. “I think wet jeans are what nightmares are made of.”

It wasn’t funny, but Simon laughed anyway and tilted his head to the side to press his lips against your temple. He was always touching you, always kissing you, as if he could wash everything away with his hands alone better than any body wash could. Maybe he could. His hands were certainly kinder than your own.

Once the water grew cold, Simon helped you out of the tub. He stripped his own soaked clothes off, and it was then that you noticed just how… skinny he looked. Between the hoodies he always wore and bundling up in the cold winter weather, you didn't realize just how much weight he had lost. The scar on his ribs stretched tight with his skin, and his veins protruded more than you remembered. Even with his state he came back for you.

A fresh and thick towel was used to dry you off, and Simon made sure to do all of the work. From what little of your torso that had gotten wet, all the way down to your feet. He didn’t take nearly as much time drying himself off before quickly ushering you into the bedroom and assisting you in getting dressed. After taking the myriad of antibiotics, probiotics, and painkillers you had been prescribed, you found yourself laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling while Simon shuffled about.

Eventually several layers of blankets had been tossed on top of you, and Boo purred at your feet, content to finally have his family back in one place. Simon settled under the covers next to you, and you instinctively curled into the warmth of him. Everything was soft and fuzzy due to the oxycodone flooding your system but you were still very much aware of the way Simon’s fingers traced up and down your left arm.

“Ischemia,” he said slowly.

“What?” you hummed, half awake.

“Ischemia. Bad blood flow,” he repeated. “Doc told me to keep an eye on the blood flow in your arm.”

“Because of the wound?” you asked, to which he hummed in response.

Things grew quiet as he ran his hand up and down your arm. Boo continued to purr up a mad storm while your fingertips were poked and prodded at. Simon watched carefully at how the color would push in and out of your nail bed, providing proof that your circulation was fine. Once he was satisfied, he studied your face, taking in how your eyes darted underneath the lids, the soft rise and fall of your shoulders. Everything in him was telling him to pull you tight and don’t let go, but he was terrified he’d crush you.

“I wasn’t afraid of dying,” you admitted suddenly, causing Simon to pause. You said it like you had answered a question nobody asked. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, and he took notice of how unfocused they looked. “I was just afraid of… not… being able to see you again.”

What was he supposed to say to that? How was he expected to form words when the love of his life looked at him like she’d die without his presence? A tight line formed along his lips as he lifted his hand to rub against your cheek.

“You should get some rest,” he diverted.

You knew exactly what he meant by that, but your eyes closed anyway as you reached your hand up to rest on his. Even moving it that far sent a pang of pain shooting down your arm and through your chest, but it was worth it to be able to hold him.

“Can we talk about it later?” you asked quietly.

“‘Course,” he promised.

After laying there for a moment, Simon reached over and turned the side table lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. It was strange laying in bed. He couldn’t quite recall the last time he had fallen asleep in such a comfortable position, as he spent his entire time captive falling asleep in a chair, which proved to be a difficult habit to break.

He wondered what it must have been like for you, down in that basement; a civilian mixed in military matters. Blood soaking into the bed sheets stained his vision almost worse than the Polaroids that had been taken of you. Sometimes he’d wipe his hands off on his pants because he still felt your blood staining his hands through his gloves. Every waking moment he heard Bukin calling you darling like it was played on repeat on his own personal broken record.

But there was no time for regret, grief, or anything else that tempted to poke at his heart and mind. There was limited space in his life, and in that moment, and forever more, it was reserved for you. Only you, and your laughter and your soft touches and the way you looked at him. He loved you. He loved you so fucking much it hurt. But there wasn’t space for that either; that terrible realization of just what he would do for you. No, for the moment it was only you, him, and that stupid cat purring at his feet, and that was enough for him.

tags: @ghostlythots @archonsabyss @crowbird @beware-my-thorns @koko-1025 @nessaasstuff @escapefromrealitysm @ilovehyperfixating @babygirl-riley @theloneshadow24 @ashableketchup @violet-19999 @ocyeanic-dani @paigetaylor628 @curlygirls-world @gaebestie @datlilwrench @ryisghost @suffering-and-happy-about-it @achelois-is-here

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#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soft spot #f!reader

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cielpansyhive · 4 months

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Cielpansyhive multichapter WIP list!

All of these are in various stages. Some fics are completely plotted, hence the chapter count, some chapters are to be decided still. Others are mostly figured out, a few are vague ideas. A handful of them already have a chapter mostly written that just hasn't been posted yet. I'm including works I have posted on AO3 but haven't finished in this list. I've been busy the past few years, I just haven't been posting or talking about my works. I'd love to answer questions about any of these, without spoiling anything of course.

Kuroshitsuji:

Revamp – Heavy LGBTQ+ characters and themes, modern setting. Sebastian rents out a room in Ciel’s house. After much flirting and interests are made aware, Ciel will have to admit to Sebastian he’s a trans man that has been living in stealth. Sebastian was never able to explore his identity freely. Both have old trauma they must navigate as well as society and family’s expectations. Friends to lovers sebaciel. Found family and discovery of identity. Drag queens galore! Background Alois/Lizzie, Grell/Madam Red, Agni/Soma. Slice of life, smut, sex positivity, mental health, trauma, angst with happy ending. (20 chapters) Currently under revision as this was my first fic!

Skilamalink – Crimson Peak AU, early 1900’s. Two brothers and their mysterious butler must find a way to get their hands on a small fortune. Their inheritance is sinking into the red clay. Ciel Phantomhive searches for a new bride in hopes of marrying into wealth. Tragedy follows the Phantomhives like a dark shadow. Astre Phantomhive is deathly ill and in need of treatment. While he knows there are sinister things that go on behind the scenes, in his wildest dreams he could never imagine what is being kept from him. When Elizabeth Midford comes into the picture secrets begin to unfold. Horror, whump, mystery, murder, ghosts, dark fic, smut, romance, multiple ships, implied incest, satisfying ending. (6 chapters)

Freakshow – 1930’s circus AU, The Great Depression era, prohibition. Sebastian has searched the city only to have every door slammed in his face. Reluctantly he turns to the only place he hasn't tried, the circus. The last thing he wants to be viewed as is a freak, but he doesn't blend in society very well with Marfan syndrome. Circus owner William T. Spears is falling apart at the seams. His circus is failing, though he'd never admit it to anyone. Too many people depend on him, namely his twin sons, Ciel and Astre. Ciel is the star of the show, the biggest and brightest. His acts include knife throwing, magic, and good old fashion card tricks, made even more impressive by his blindness. Even with the crowds dwindling, he's not ready to move out from center stage. Especially not for the rookie new act. Astre is bored to death. The circus has been the same for years. Same people, same acts, same crippling anxiety that keeps him from performing. People try to make the circus seem spectacular, but to Astre it's just dull, everyday life. Astre has a difficult time making friends due to his inability to speak. Heavy angst, some dark themes, slow burn, past Snake/Astre. (Chapters TBD)

Rumors – Famous AU. Modern setting. A model and a rockstar couple, how original. Sebastian and his band are at the top of their game. Everyone wants to interview them, the paparazzi won’t leave them alone, and rumors fly in an instant. Ciel’s a well-known heir and model, finally making his first semi-public appearance since he was held for ransom. People want his story, at least what they can’t already see. Ciel is never without his eyepatch and gloves, he refuses to talk about that day. He attempts to move forward with his modeling career. Ciel hasn’t been laid in years, of course he won’t turn down the handsome rock star that approaches him at a party. For Sebastian it’s been…a few days. Sebastian has never had a serious relationship, but Ciel interests him. Sebastian invites Ciel to join them on their mini tour. Ciel would have to leave behind the security of his home and his own personal bodyguard for the first time in years. It’s all sex (a lot of sex), drugs, and rock n roll. Sebastian and Ciel try to navigate a relationship they must hide. Both are on the edge of self-destruction. Angst, intense themes, trauma, drug use, self-harm, eating disorders, mostly hurt/barely comfort, betrayal, lots of smut, hopeful ending. (9 chapters)

Bloody Bastian – American Mary AU. Modern setting. Sebastian is a surgical student getting ready to start his residency. Med school isn’t cheap, financial aid didn’t even cover books and materials and his bills were piling up. It was difficult to locate a job that would work with his schedule. He finds an ad that a local strip club has posted. They state women or men can apply, it’s worth a shot. Sebastian enters the club. It looks clean enough, not just a hole in the wall that won’t pay minimum wage. The owner, Bard, takes an interest in Sebastian even though he seems overly qualified. Sebastian’s schooling comes in handy as he becomes involved with illegal surgeries that pay fast cash. He remembers his vow to, “do no harm,” but when do the lines blur? His world becomes tangled in revenge and body modifications. Bard pines over Sebastian and will do whatever it takes to make him happy. Detective Ciel Phantomhive is investigating the disappearance of Sebastian’s previous professor. How long before the pressure causes Sebastian to crack? Dark fic, graphic content, angst, murder, non-con, trauma, slight Sebard and Sebaciel. Vague/open ending. (7 chapters)

Razor’s Edge – Black Swan AU. Modern setting. Ciel has finally landed the role as the Swan Queen. Sebastian, an award-winning dancer from England is to be Prince Siegfried. What could possibly go wrong? Nothing bonds two people in a blooming romance like covering up a murder. Stress is high on the duo as it is. A shadow from the past seems to follow Ciel. Sebastian may have signed himself up to be Ciel’s unofficial bodyguard as threats rise. Dark fic, open ended ending. (7 chapters)

In the Woods Somewhere – College AU with Bird!Bastian. Modern setting. Ciel Phantomhive has been murdered…or at least he would have been if he didn’t make a deal with a strange man from the forest. The man who becomes known as Sebastian finds himself trapped on the surface level. The fine print of Ciel’s contract has bound him for the entire ten years. Ciel is a sickly human that could benefit from someone like Sebastian, if he’s willing to be his student. Ciel is missing half a year’s worth of his memory and can’t recall who tried to murder him or why. Sebastian follows Ciel around campus and attempts to help solve his murder. Between classes Sebastian teaches Ciel a little magic. They visit the woods often for Sebastian to stretch his wings and Ciel to take nature photos. Ciel would have never guessed he’d fall for this strange, bird demon or that it would be reciprocated. Mystery, humor, magic, hurt/comfort, whump (Chapters TBD)

Break Your Halo – Angel/demon AU. Modern setting. After a church collapses three survivors are sent to the hospital. Two civilians are unconscious and in critical condition while the priest is awake. He demands to know if the basement is still intact because “it” must not be let out. Both civilians begin to heal impossibly fast and without their memory. They go by Ciel and Sebastian. They are put in a semi-private room and become friends. They start noticing some odd things and confide in one another. The doctors would think they’re crazy, they already think there’s something wrong with them. They were both at death’s door and overnight they’ve healed as if they’ve been there for months. Maybe they aren’t human, they need answers. Whump, smut (5 chapters)

Nymph – Canon divergent AU.Ciel sleeps with everyone except Sebastian and Sebastian is not having it, that’s it, that’s the fic. Adult Ciel being hit with all the urges he missed in his teens. Every chapter starts out with a frustrated Sebastian complaining in his journal. Yes, a demon keeping a journal is cracky. Some humor, but mostly smut. Ciel/Finny, Ciel/Bard, Ciel/Mey-Rin, Ciel/Soma/Agni, Ciel/Snake, Ciel/Undertaker, Ciel/Charles Grey, Ciel/Nina (8 chapters)

Phantom – Phantom of the Opera AU. Set in 1880s France. Sebastian finally debuts as the star the “angel” trained him to be. He has devoted his life to music and the voice he’d talk to in the dead of night. Sebastian is pleasantly surprised to find out his childhood love, Bard, is one of the opera house’s biggest patrons. Their reunion doesn’t go unnoticed. Sebastian is visited by his angel of music, and he is much more flesh and blood and possessive than Sebastian imagined. Soma is not taking being knocked down a peg well. The audience comes to see him and his darling Agni, not Sebastian. Soma won’t play nice, but what does he do when he’s faced with the man behind the mirror? This opera ghost won’t go without a fight. Bard desperately wants to free Sebastian, yet Sebastian doesn’t want to be freed. Angst, smut, dark elements. Sebaciel and Sebard. Background Soma/Agni. (Chapters TBD)

Slice of the Scalpel – Nip/tuck AU. Modern setting. Brothers Sebastian and Claude run a plastic surgery practice. They have very different ideas of beauty, which helps build their clientele. Sebastian prefers to enhance natural beauty and balance what is already there. Claude prefers to alter and exaggerate things beyond clients’ wildest dreams. Receptionist and Sebastian’s boyfriend, Ciel, is eager to start his schooling to be an anesthetist. Angst, drama, smut, humor. (Chapters TBD)

I Like U for Your Brainz – izombie AU. Modern setting. A newly turned zombie, Sebastian, is a medical examiner working under Ciel’s leadership. Together they try to find a cure for zombies as well as solve murder cases with detective William T. Spears. Sebastian had to leave his old life behind him, give up his dream of being a surgeon, his fiancé Bard, even his sister he keeps at a distance. His extremely extroverted roommate, Soma, must work even harder to cheer him up. Sebastian would give anything to be human again or at least to have someone besides his boss to talk to about being a zombie. He couldn’t be the only one out there, right? Turns out there’s someone that’s making more zombies in the hopes of getting rich and another that is plain ignorant to the problem. Angst, humor, smut, gore, happy ending. Past Seb/Bard, Seb/Agni, Ciel/Soma, Seb/Ciel, Seb/Violet, Ciel/Violet, Agni/Soma, Bard/R!Ciel, Bard/Finny (Chapters TBD)

Star Boy – Actor AU. Modern setting. Actors Ciel and Sebastian are the celebrity couple everyone’s talking about. They are known for co-staring in action movies, their chemistry was unmatched even before they started dating. Their latest film calls for more stunts, more explosions and effects, it’s over the top. Like many actors, Ciel has a stunt double, Alois. Sebastian does as well, Claude. Alois loves performing stunts and he gets along well with Ciel. He gets his own limelight doing extreme sports off set. Claude isn’t as happy with the arrangement. Sebastian gets all the fans and praise, yet Claude is the one doing the hard work. Worst of all, Sebastian gets Ciel. Sebastian doesn’t deserve the life he has, Claude is sure of that. Angst, whump, crime, dark fic. (Chapters TBD)

Another Life – Modern setting reincarnation AU. Sebastian works at an antique shop, one day Ciel comes in to shop around, looking for something “old” to gift his cousin for her wedding day. Sebastian knows he’s never seen him in the shop before, yet he seems so familiar. Oddly enough Ciel is drawn back to visit Sebastian week after week, he is compelled to. There’s a tug on the red string of fate and neither can ignore it. (Chapters TBD)

A New Heart for Christmas – Modern setting. Ciel needs a heart transplant. It’s been years and he’s finally next on the list. He’s tired of keeping batteries charged for his artificial heart and worrying about people thinking he’s dead if he passes out and doesn’t have a pulse. The twins decide to do their annual birthday outing early this year, seeing as Ciel might be recovering still on their actual birthday. His new heart comes much sooner than he anticipated and with challenges he never imagined. Whump, sad, somewhat body horror?, angst. (3 chapters)

Nightshift – Modern setting. Five Nights at Freddy’s AU. Sebastian and Ciel have been hired as night security guards to a “new” pizza joint. Sebastian only moved to the town for college, but Ciel had lived there his whole life. He knew the establishment well. How dare they reopen after what they did to him and his family. Ciel searches for answers to what happened. He knows his brother had to be murdered, he wasn’t just abducted. Sebastian helps him investigate as the restaurant comes to life. With so much dark history it’s no wonder something lingers in the background. Time is running out as opening day nears. Horror, no smut, dark themes, happy ending. (6 chapters)

Free Love – Raver AU. Modern setting. Just a big party, not a lot of plot. A bunch of smut and ships. If house music was a fanfic, this is what you’d get. Seb/Ciel(/Bard), Ciel/Alois, Ciel/Soma, Ciel/Finny, Ciel/Violet, Ciel/Snake, Ciel/Sieglinde, Ciel/Agni, Seb/Agni, Seb/Violet, Violet/Alois, Finny/Snake, Lizzie/Sieglinde, Agni/Soma(/Snake), Violet/Snake/Sieglinde (Chapters TBD)

Phantom Occult – Supernatural AU/paranormal investigators, modern setting, on indefinite hiatus. The Phantomhives have been on the road most of their lives, taking out all the nasties that go bump in the night. Vincent and his twin sons have teamed up with a half demon named Sebastian and a witch, Sieglinde. Sebastian has very little memory of his past. He was found by Vincent and Cedric (Undertaker) on one of their hunts. In search of answers, Sebastian is trying to track down his demonic father. Sebastian has proven his loyalty to the Phantomhives time and time again. He will, as Vincent’s last request, ‘look after his boys.’ Following in their father and grandfather’s footsteps the twins take on cases involving the supernatural. Vincent Jr. has his work cut out for him with Ciel’s fragile health and Sebastian’s ever changing and out of control abilities. They may need to seek out a higher being to help them and save the world from damnation. (Chapters TBD)

Phoenix – A/b/o dynamics, FBI agent AU. Modern setting. Partners Ciel and Sebastian are given a case that has similarities to Ciel’s own capture from his childhood. It puts Ciel on edge, but he’s determined to solve it. Sebastian is not the playboy alpha everyone assumes he is, he’s in fact an omega. He’s been having horrible side effects from being on suppressants since his teens. He’s never even had a heat. For his own safety his doctor forces him off suppressants for at least a year. Ciel is hurt and confused to find out his partner for the last ten years lied to him about his dynamic. It’s not long before Sebastian is hit with his first heat. What is Ciel to do? Angst, smut (5 chapters)

Thought Contagion – Cyborg sci-fi AU. Future setting. Sebastian wakes up in the storage section of a lab. Half of his body has been transformed, he’s now a cyborg. He breaks through the facility and finds Ciel in the process of his brain being programed. Sebastian rescues him and they flee the factory. On the outside they discover the horrors of their government and what is being done to the citizens. They befriend rebels and try to take back control. (Chapters TBD)

T’hy’la – Star Trek AU. Future setting. Sci-fi. Captain Ciel Phantomhive and his half Vulcan second-in-command, Sebastian, explore space with their small crew. Slow burn sebaciel. (Chapters TBD)

Aquamarine – Merman Ciel AU. Modern setting. Sebastian whump, Ciel takes care of him. Crime, magic, and smut. (4 chapters)

Voltron:

Atlas Ocean Rescue – Merman Shiro AU. Modern setting. Keith works as a marine life vet at a rehabilitation clinic. He saves merman Shiro and develops a crush on him. Cute friendships, humor, healing, growth, a dash of smut and gore/whump. Slight angst with happy ending. (9 chapters)

Empire – Royalty AU. Set on Altea, not Earth. Shklance with trans Lance and cis Keith. Love triangles, magic, betrayals, war, planets coming together, and a healthy dose of smut. Ends with a wedding. (8 chapters)

Affinity – Modern setting. Shiro hasn’t adjusted well since his new diagnosis, so he joins a support group recommended by his doctor. Keith has been going to group reluctantly for years. His seizures are somewhat under control. He has the company of his service dog, Kosmo, but he’s otherwise alone. Both of their lives are turning out far different than they ever envisioned. Will they give love a chance? Slow burn. Cis Keith. (9 chapters)

The Eighth House – Modern setting. Werewolf Shiro and vampire Keith AU. Shiro is a newly turned werewolf and Keith volunteers to help him. Keith was turned into a vampire in the 80’s. Keith’s best friend, Lance, is also a vampire. They hang out at a supernatural bar that’s run by ex-hunters. Lots of blood and some smut. (8 chapters)

Zombie – Zombie apocalypse AU. Modern setting. After Shiro is labeled as a burden, him and Keith are kicked out from their community. Keith must take care of Shiro and find a new shelter or community for them to join. They find one run by a sadistic creep that was a cult leader pre-apocalypse. It’s not ideal, but where else can they turn? Keith plots to overthrow the tyrant as soon as he can, for everyone’s sake. Angst, whump, gore, smut, dark elements, happy ending. (5 chapters)

As Many Times as It Takes – Canon divergent AU. Keith goes feral and must be confined for everyone’s safety. The team works to find an antidote for Keith. Shiro tries to get his husband to remember their life together as well as remind him how to be human. Hurt/comfort. (3 chapters.)

Euphoria – A/b/o AU. Modern setting. Keith Is a hopeless afab alpha that seems to want the impossible. He’s not attracted to the stereotypical omega and his last relationship with another alpha left him with literal scars. He decides to try out a match service that’s prided itself on hard to match cases. Shiro is tired of being rejected and his body is telling him he desperately needs a mate. It doesn’t matter that he is no longer fertile, his omega body didn’t get the memo. With irregular and intense heats, infertility, being a large omega, and a list of ‘flaws’ a mile long Shiro has been the one unmatched client the service can’t seem to help. Owners Allura and Lance have become family to him and are personally invested in finding a mate for him. Keith and Shiro could be perfect for each other if only they allow themselves to be happy. (6 chapters.)

Club Atlas – Scent club a/b/o AU. Modern setting. A new alpha, Shiro, arrives at a scent club under recommendation by his therapist. Following a serious accident Shiro lost his sense of smell. When it eventually came back everything was overwhelming. He could barely handle his own scent and couldn’t leave his house. His anxiety and trauma have caused his life to spiral out of his control. A scent club is the perfect place to go to for exposure therapy. Omega scents are naturally calming to an alpha, booths are well sealed and private, and clubs take care to thoroughly remove scents of previous clients between rounds. Shiro meets Lance and Keith, two of the omegas that work at the club. They interview him and add him to their client list. Lance is always enthusiastic about his job, he loves it. Keith on the other hand isn’t too fond of the job or being an omega. But there’s something about this client that he likes. Maybe he can make a real difference in someone’s life. Angst, a lot of smut, brief klance. (5 chapters.)

Compliance – Kidnapped AU. Modern setting. Shiro is held captive by his long-lost twin brother Ryou. After going into the adoption system as infants, they were split up. Shiro wasn’t aware he had a twin until he was staring him in the face. Apparently, Ryou had been keeping tabs on him from afar for over a year. He happened to access Shiro’s patient file and felt he could do a better job taking care of Shiro than his current doctors were. Ryou only wants the best for his brother and that means he can’t leave his sight. Still, he does have to work, and being confined he knows Shiro is bound to get lonely. Ryou decides he should get a boyfriend for Shiro, and he found the perfect one. Keith has been recently released from the psych ward. He had no family or friends. He was fired from his job and probably couldn’t even pay for his hospital bill or antidepressants he clearly needed. They could keep each other company. Their living quarters would be cozy, the basement wasn’t tiny by any means…but two people trapped on the same floor, they’d have to share. Ryou wasn’t a monster, the basement was nicer than any apartment that either could afford. The chains were temporary, an exercise of trust if you will. They’ve had yet to earn his. Dark fic OBVIOUSLY (Chapters TBD)

Strength in Gentleness – Shiatsu massage therapist & Reiki master Shiro/autistic Keith. Modern setting. Keith often hangs out at his mom’s work. Recently her and Kolivan’s business has moved location and joined with Allura’s salon. They also hired a new bodyworker that Keith develops a crush on. Fluffy, slice of life, hurt/comfort, humor. Music heavy, I kid you not, every chapter will have a playlist. Lots of cute Krolia and Keith moments. Giving all “The Blades” a happy lifetime. Probably the fluffiest thing I’ll ever write. It won’t be 100% free of trauma, but Shiro has healed and Keith and Krolia have processed their grief. Anxiety and meltdowns can get a bit intense. (Chapters TBD)

The Ring – Boxer Shiro/body worker-therapist Keith. Modern setting. Cute and smutty. Slight whump cause boxing injuries. (Chapters TBD)

Galaxy University – College AU, teacher Shiro/student Keith. Modern setting. Angst. (Chapters TBD)

Vanitas no carte:

I Trust you to Kill Me – Canon divergent AU. Vanitas turns into a vampire. All he knows is his craving for blood has taken over his life. He’s not a curse bearer but he fears he might as well be. Worse yet, he can no longer assist Jeanne, he tries to obtain a solution that works for them both. Noé confesses his feelings and tries to keep Vanitas alive. Angst, whump, smut, romance. Vanoe, possible vanijeanne (Chapters TBD)

#cielpansyhive #some of these might sound familiar from 2018/2019 #some I haven't talked about before #I make notation of cis Keith cause 98% of the time I write him as trans #though not stated in the summaries BB ITWS and Another Life Ciel are all trans #Another Life Sebastian is nonbinary #Free Love has multiple trans and nonbinary characters #not all themes and warnings are tagged as this is just a general idea list #adult Ciel Phantomhive #sebaciel #sheith

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aadmelioraa · 1 year

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It's almost 2023, so I figured I'd share my updated The Last Kingdom fic recs since I have been meaning to do that all year. Below the cut you will find some shippy stuff, some introspective pieces, and a variety of characters featured (several of whom rarely get fanfic). I hope if this post crosses your path you may find a new favorite! I did limit my selection to complete fics, but you can find more recommendations, both works in progress and complete, under my ao3 tlk bookmarks. Happy New Year, and happy reading!

the leap by @irisdouglasiana

Season 5 cottagecore nuns fixit for Aalys and Aelflaed. Fixit fics are not usually my vibe tbh but this one is perfectly complex and bittersweet.

A Hard Story to Know by @wildwren

Post Season 5 fic. Aelfwynn processes her grief at the loss of her mother with the help of Aldhelm and Eadith. This fic broke my heart and mended it several times over.

no escape by @volvaaslaug

Wonderful Eadith character study and I adore the prose style as well.

come go with me by @wendy-daahling

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm political marriage (for MERCIA of course), slow burn with lots of delicious pining.

the drowned and the damned by @irisdouglasiana

Canon divergent AU centered around Osbert, Uhtred's youngest son. Addresses family trauma, cycles of violence, and legacy within the world of the show and does it in such a thought provoking way.

and, lord, she found me just in time by @jeynepoole

Hild x Iseult hurt/comfort bathing fic...so tender and so lovely.

a rope in hand for your other man by @jeynepoole

This fic is definitely for a niche audience, but if the idea of an Aethelflaed/Aldhelm/Aethelred threesome intrigues you, check it out...and there's more where that came from.

Meanwhile in Mercia by @skatingthinandice

This series is an absolute staple of Aethelflaed x Aldhelm fanfic and I am very grateful for it. Essential reading!

Daughter of Darkness by @ulfrsmal

Gen fic focused around Brida and Thyra's relationship and trauma that I, for one, desperately needed. *this fic is locked, you will need to be logged into your ao3 account to access...I still have a few invitations to send, if you need one feel free to DM me!

I go you go, my dear by alittlebitalexis

Two Osferth x Eadith fics for the Eadsferth truthers among us (no for real they were cute). Fluff and smut.

When the Party's Over by @wildwren

Aethelflaed x Erik College AU. Part of a series, read Part 1 first, I am just particularly attached to this part for...reasons.

The Maiden by @wildwren

Pirate/Witch AU for Aethelflaed x Skade. This fic is HOT and creative and HOT and gorgeously written and HOT.

To Curse a King by @pokeasleepingsmaug

Skade x Sihtric smut fic featuring magic and knife play. Very fun and sexy.

Saint of Shitty Reasons by @volvaaslaug

Edward Modern AU character study that hits 95% of my kinks.

Most CURSED among God's kin are aethelings by @wildwren

Aethelwold character study. A masterpiece though and through.

Lay Down Your Arms by @skatingthinandice

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm post Tettenhall smut, and a most worthy entry for the #GET IT AETHELFLAED tag.

clever-tongued by @tsukkinami

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm smut with wonderful tension and intimacy, it's just top tier! A classic.

in my dreams we survived by @irisdouglasiana

Hild character study, really lovely angst that makes me tear up every time.

poison by @irisdouglasiana

Brida x Skade enemies to lovers...need I say more?

fortune cookie by @jeynepoole

Competent stepdad Aldhelm, Modern AU Aldhelm & Aelfwynn bonding. A warm blanket of a fic.

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despazito · 2 years

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What's the best way to get into the Trauma Center series?

ALRIGHT SO trauma center is absolutely wild. The games are about surgeons but they are also absolutely silly and ridiculous like operating on a time bomb, ninjas, the power to stop time during an operation and to hear dead people, pathogens that look like little aliens, and a surgeon who side hustles as an honest to god superhero in full spandex.

There's 5 titles in the series, 3 for Wii and 2 on DS. Chronological order of the series is:

Under the Knife / Second Opinion > Trauma Team > Under the Knife 2 > New Blood

UTK was the first game released in 2005 and it follows the series protagonist Derek Stiles. it's a bit rough around the edges, crusty controls, has no difficulty settings, and the art style looks a bit dated (although many fans find it charming). Several years later Atlus decided to bring the series to Wii and remade the game with a major facelift and most importantly they added a new side storyline introducing Naomi Kimishima aka everyone's favourite character. Not my bias there was a poll. That was released as Trauma Center: Second Opinion and under the fucking incredible name of "Caduceus Z: Two Super Surgical Operations" in Japan, so you can just play SO and skip UTK.

One disclaimer about the game is that pretty early on there's a teen girl admitted who's suicidal and instead of being reassuring and acting like a health professional Angie is a fucking ghoul and yells at her that maybe she should just die then??! It's in both UTK and SO and so out of nowhere, Angie is an unpleasant little gremlin at the beginning of the game but she mellows out. I'd say the rest of the series is pretty good about grief and stuff like that, it's just this one scene that sucks dick

Trauma Team happens two years later in-universe and you could technically play with no previous titles because it follows a completely new set of characters but with the exception of Naomi and her manservant, so I highly recommend playing SO beforehand so you know what her bioterrorism deal is. TT was the last game released and most ambitious tc title even having cutscenes, but they are not animated because Atlus won't spend more than 10$ to make a trauma center <\3

TT is my favourite. You have six playable doctors in surgery, first response, endoscopy, orthopedics, diagnostics, and forensics. The first four modes are similar to the classic TC gameplay, the last two are long form. If you like Phoenix Wright or the Edgeworth games I think you will enjoy forensics, it's literally solving murder mysteries. Diagnostics is basically playing House MD which sounds really fun but flicking between two identical CAT scans looking for a minuscule abnormality can get frustrating and I don't blame anyone just going to the gameFAQ walkthrough for help on that lmao.

The cast is also half men half women doctors with a pretty diverse background. You've got Maria who's latina, Hank is indigenous (although not divulged in the game itself so half points), Tomoe and Naomi are japanese, Gabe and CR-S01 are the cracker rep. It's definitely not flawless representation, like having the latina woman be the fiery aggressive one of the group and Hank be the hippy in touch with nature is a biiit questionable but still I commend the japanese studio for at least trying and both their characters are much more than that. This game was developed around 2009 before diversity in bideo bames became a nuclear topic on the internet. Btw it takes places in 2020 and a massive pandemic hits the United States and it all takes place in MAINE. Fucking wild.

UTK2 happens one year afterwards in-universe and is a direct sequel to UTK back to following Derek, it was outsourced to another studio and frankly it shows. Not a bad game at all and it’s the most important trauma center contribution to mainstream society bc the track gentle breeze that became a viral meme. If you really liked Derek & co and GUILT operations you'll enjoy it. I do not have much to say, only played through it once.

Lastly there's New Blood, another new cast of characters several years time skip, this time it's a duo of surgeons dunked in sepia tone. Again you can jump into New Blood without playing any other title although they do mention events in previous games. You can totally play NB single player but you can tell by level design it's tailored for two and imo the most difficult game in the series. It's also the only game besides TT to have full voice acting starring nyquil'd Troy Baker as Markus. NB was ambitious, you can tell they had a lot they wanted to say. Themes like wealth inequality, access to medical care, corporations mining in the global south, a common fan passtime is screaming about what NB could have been if they could neatly wrap all those topics up into a solid story. It's absolutely not a bad game at all and I totally recommend it, but it could have been More.

If you've got either of those consoles it's pretty affordable to buy the games used at some vintage games shop, especially the Wii titles. TT got a WiiU release in 2015 but I don't think the shop is up anymore? Nobody is serious about collecting TC, atlus didn't even make merch for the series and basically ignores its existance, nobody's bidding up prices for a copy Second Opinion. The Wii games can be emulated on Dolphin and DS games on Desmume, there's a dedicated discord server that's happy to help out and answer questions. Or you could just do passive and watch a yt playthrough.

After 12 years since the last release the fandom is incredibly small but very passionate and we get really excited about new people joining and discovering the series. There's no "wrong" way to play the games, nobody will give you shit for playing out of order we're just happy people play trauma center period!! It really is a hidden gem, there's no other series like it, and it was arguably one of the best implementations of motion controls for the Wii in the console's whole run. If you liked Shoji Meguro's compositions for persona or SMT soundtrack then you'll definitely find some new bops in TC.

The series sold better overseas than in Japan, but even then Trauma Team was a flop in terms of sales and never released in Europe. It's such a shame, I wish it could pick up some kind of cult following. I really really want a new game but at this point I'd settle for remaster of the old ones or even a cheap little trauma center keychain from the atlus store, but even that is wishful thinking 😔😔

So if you do play it and you enjoy them make some noise towards atlus and remind them they do in fact own IPs besides fucking persona.

#trauma center

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ddelline · 15 days

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wip wednesday (ft traumatic post-canon itafushi)

blurb | yea so this is a thing I never thought I would feel inspired 2 write. turns out that I did, and I do: I think the formula is megumi's inherent canonical misery(*infinity) + yūji's inherent canonical saviorism = ddelline wip

premise | follows canon thru ch256, deviates (obvs lol) after that to explore itafushi in a post-canon setting, centering on shared trauma, shared healing, and all of what may become of 2 boys who've been possessed by a 2000 yr curse and forced to bear witness to its murderous actions all the whilst (but it ends in yaoi. I feel compelled 2 point this out, even though it may count as a spoiler)

ok anyway, a lil prelude bit (spoilers 4 ch252) under the cut! posting for the sake of posting, lol, but when a b*tch hasn't delivered a new ao3 entry since october, that's what happens

25th December, 2018; Shinjuku—

In the zero point two second interval before Okkotsu-senpai snaps his right hand up and signs for the Angel’s technique, Yūji gets in close. In the exact second—same breath, same blink-of-eye—that Okkotsu-senpai intones, “Maximum output: Jacob’s Ladder,” and thrusts the katana through Sukuna’s tricep, Yūji lunges. He steps forward, takes one long step in one dizzying arc, and carves a knife-sharpened elbow into Sukuna’s right oblique. In the split breath that follows the incantation, he heaves back, finds his center of gravity and pitches backwards with everything he’s got.

Yūji screams, hoarse and raspy, desperate with futile hope: “It’s time to wake up, Fushiguro!!”

The battlefield freeze-frames. Suddenly he sees himself, bloodied and bruised and messily reversed-patched whole, land on the balls of his feet outside of the whiteout lance of the Jacob’s Ladder; he sees the splurt of blood in the wake of Okkotsu-senpai’s katana congeal in mid-air; he sees the monstrous outline of Sukuna temporarily undone, silhouette erased within the beam’s radius.

Yūji blinks. The next thing he sees is swirling black and blue nothing—like when you close your eyes and focus on the dark vacuum on the backs of your eyelids. He looks down, catalogs his bloody and ripped sneakers sinking slightly into ground that’s plush, looks sandy.

Darkness swirls. Yūji sinks. In front of him, Fushiguro has collapsed over his own bent knees. His face is turned into the ground, his fists are balled at the ends of where his arms are stretched out long.

“That’s enough. I’ve had enough.”

The composition of the soul—

Viewed from that angle, their plan had no flaws. Calculate: a curse puppeting a human vessel, theorized soul multiplicity, Yūji’s ability to perceive and target the soul, and the Angel’s technique—then solve for X. If the aforementioned conditions are used as variables, then no matter how you scramble them up, X will solve for a window wherein Yūji is able to bully open a sliver of an entryway into Fushiguro’s soul. And they did—it worked.

They’d one-upped the strongest sorcerer of all; when all was said, done and executed, they had outwitted The King of Curses himself.

However.

“That’s enough,” says Fushiguro’s collapsed body. “I’ve had enough.”

For a moment, Yūji doesn’t understand what he’s hearing. He feels like he’s being asked to interpret a conversation from underwater—goes back over familiarly shaped words, tries his best to turn over the syllables, to pick them apart and put them back together the way they’re supposed to be. His ears ring faintly.

He stares at the crumpled angles of Fushiguro’s back; a vulnerable spot of his neck peeks up visible where his collar creases awkwardly. He feels simultaneously nothing and like he’s very cold.

Yūji attempts to repeat the words, “I don’t—” but the words lodge in the hollow of his throat. His ribs feel suddenly tight over his heart.

What they’d failed to take into account was the possibility that within Fushiguro Megumi’s soul—any will to live had been extinguished.

Comprehension slams into Yūji like a freight train. He stops breathing. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, he thinks. Blood rushes in his ears, squalls and claps like thunder. He wants to repeat himself—it’s time to wake up, Fushiguro; there’s no time actually, we don’t have time for this, so wake up—but when he tries, his throat closes up and his jaw sticks shut. His mind is racing, his heart inches upwards in his throat.

“Fushiguro—” Yūji croaks, but runs out of words. Fuck, but he’s always been better at doing. He takes a step forward, stretches out a hand.

The blue-black vacuum shudders. The sandy ground quakes.

“No!! Fushig—”

“Scale of the Dragon.”

Yūji blinks. His surroundings once more have shape: the sky is a murky dome, the ground craggy rock. The entirety of the landscape—cut through by thousands, maybe countless katanas. A violent shiver shudders through him, makes him stumble slightly forward. Far up the blade-crowded plains, the blinding light of Jacob’s Ladder has winked out; a bleached sand tempest spirals from its impact site.

Fushiguro is gone.

They failed. Yūji failed.

The pale sand whorl shudders and warps. “Recoil.”

Yūji’s mind draws blank. He understands, somehow primally, that he needs to move. His heart races, slams against his too-tight ribs with meaty thunks. Fushiguro is gone. Against all odds, their plan had worked; Yūji had reached him—and he’d failed.

“—tadori!” cuts a voice—cuts Okkotsu-senpai’s voice, tight with nerves, from somewhere ahead and above. It sounds submerged, hindered; or maybe that’s just him.

Him—who needs to move. He needs to move now.

“Twin Meteors.”

“Itadori!!”

Yūji snaps both arms up in tight guard on knee-jerk instinct. The first reinforced Cleave slashes across his forehead up into his hairline not a second later. Pain cracks through his skull, blinding and breathtaking. In front of him, Okkotsu-senpai’s matte white uniform splits open, blooming a violent red. Rika shrieks. Okkotsu-senpai sinks to one knee with a pained, bitten off grunt.

“Okkotsu-senpai!!”

Yūji grinds a heel into the solid underfoot, forces his weight into his knees. Don’t move; focus on defense, says a small, rational part of Yūji. Don’t move in any way that might jeopardise the plan, says an amalgamation of their remaining fighting roster.

Move. Move now; a short sprint and you can make it in time, drag Okkotsu out of danger, says his instincts. Yūji bites his lip raw to keep from swearing. Sweat slicks down the small of his back. He remains still.

The next three hits garrote across his hip, stomach, upper thigh; gouges him clean to the bone. Yūji grinds his teeth until his back molars creak and swallows back bile reflexively. Pain, bright and overwhelming, sparks in his chest. He wills himself to lean into it; feels the pain, but not the shock. He repeats, focus, and breathe, says it over and over again, wearing the words down like an old prayer. He’s already failed an assignment once today. He’s not allowed to contribute to another defeat. All that matters is the plan, the painstaking step-by-step—

The greyscale dome of Yūta’s domain cracks and shatters.

Yūji sees Maki-senpai slip the Split Soul Katana home—the tip ruptures bloody through the stretch of skin supposedly guarding a curse’s heart—before he actually sees Maki-senpai.

Sukuna grunts, freezes. His eyes go wide. Slowly he cranes his neck, gaze abandoning Rika and Okkotsu-senpai to dart over and behind the bulk of his right shoulder.

The plan. The painstaking, convoluted, step-by-step plan, outfitted with so many failsafes and exceptions it can barely be called a plan at this stage. The plan with its end goal—

Fushiguro. For Yūji, he’s both the beginning and the end.

Behind him, someone is propelled from high above into the pavement with such brute force that it sends violent tremors shocking through the full expanse of the city block.

Step one is getting the hell out of dodge—clear the way for Maki-senpai.

He wills himself, as the domain collapses into bleak daylight and a ruined cityscape, to move. He sees Ui Ui swoop in from high above, aiming for where Okkotsu-senpai is cradled in the spindly palms of his shikigami. Neither Chōsō nor Kusakabe should be far off, then. Yūji can tag out for now.

He grits his teeth and steels himself, spins on one heel and takes off in a sprint.

The sudden movement strains the gouges in his thigh and hip taut; what did he expect, really? Pain, furious and overwhelming, lashes up his spine, burrows into the lesions; blacks his vision for a split second. He stumbles, swears. The wound across his forehead dribbles steadily into his eyelashes and along his temple. He scrubs the inside of his wrist irately across his face. Taking quick stock, he traces the pain, sparking like a live wire, to three busted ribs, six lacerations at worst: forehead, forearms, torso, left hip and upper left thigh.

He blinks crusting blood and light-headedness out of his eyes; he hones in on the pain he’s feeling—digs in to use it as a focal point, situates himself inside it. It’s physical, he thinks; just physical, it’s fixable. For me it’s fine. Not like—

It’s time to wake up, Fushiguro!!

Cutting a sharp right corner, sprinting down a narrow, partly collapsed alleyway, Yūji imagines Fushiguro before him: beaten down—defeated; kneeling face down in the blue-black vacuum pit of his soul, the expanse of his shoulders pitching into the not-sand of the ground; the skinny stretch of his back long and limp over folded knees.

It’s enough—I’ve had enough.

Yūji scrubs an angry hand across his eyes. “I’m not giving up on you!”

#fic: when you dig up god's little acre #itafushi #jjk #my writing #work: fic #wip wednesday

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bangerbattlethemes · 1 year

Text

The bracket (In no particular order yet) under the cut!

Name Redacted - ARMS

Serpent Eating The Horizon - Bravely Default

Return of the Snow Queen - Epic Battle Fantasy

Vector to the Heavens - Kingdom Hearts

Masked Dedede - Kirby

Ghost of Culvert - Mad Rat Dead

The Darkest Lord - Miitopia

Rivers in the Desert - Persona 5

Battle! Champion Cynthia/Battle! Volo - Pokemon

Fly Octo Fly/Ebb and Flow - Splatoon

The Champion Revali - Legend of Zelda/Hyrule Warriors

Guilt and Resentment - Toontown Corporate Clash

U.N. Owen Was Her - Touhou

In Circles/_n C_rcl_s - Transistor

The Death of God’s Will - ULTRAKILL

Death By Glamour - Undertale

You Will Know Our Names - Xenoblade Chronicles

One-Eyed Slugger - Yakuza

Pursuit ~ Cornered - Ace Attorney

Partners ~ The Game is Afoot! - Dai Gyakuten Saiban

Sanctuary Guardian - Earthbound

One-Winged Angel - Final Fantasy VII

God Shattering Star - Fire Emblem Three Houses

Scaramouche, the Prodigal - Genshin Impact

Paradise Lost - Granblue Fantasy

God of the Dead - Hades

Sealed Vessel - Hollow Knight

A Bewitching Dance ~ Mizutsune - Monster Hunter

Decisive Battle II - Octopath Traveler

Confronting Myself - Celeste

Revived Power - Shadow of the Colossus

Ludwig, the Accursed and Holy Blade - Bloodborne

Battle with Magus - Chrono Trigger

Notorious D.I.G. (Fortissimole) - Crypt Of The Necrodancer

Avarice - Death’s Door

Myosotis - Deemo

The Only Thing They Fear Is You - Doom Eternal

Because of You - Dragalia Lost

Why Oh You Are LOVE - Everhood

Anima Ataraxia - Fate

Surtr - Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice

Fast As You Can - Hi-Fi Rush

The Trapper - Inscryption

Restless Gwishin - Jjimjilbang: Haunted Sauna

Between Two Worlds - Limbus Company

Signal Interference - Little Nightmares 2

Megalomania - Live a Live

In the Final - Mario and Luigi: Bowser's Inside Story

Wave Battle! Ride On!! - Mega Man Starforce 3

Song of Ancients (Fate) - Nier Replicant

Pepper Steak - OFF

Tussle Among Trees - Omori

This Is The End - Scott Pilgrim Vs The World: The Game

Saturn - Seraphic Blue

Battle F4 - Shin Megami Tensei IV

Roar of the Jungle Dragon - Terraria

The Final Battle - The Legendary Starfy

The King of Hearts - Wandersong

Red Sun - Metal Gear Rising

Chains of Fate - Trauma Center Under the Knife 2

Guardians of the Sorrowful Ice - Etrian Odyssey 2 Untold

Internal Conflict - Black Mesa (Xen)

Last Battle - Cave Story

Distorted Happiness - Caligula Effect

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sugurusmoon · 2 months

Text

Tw: trauma, NSFW, Implied sexual content, mention of suicide death and loss, grief, blood, pain, teeth

Never an angel

Never a goddess

but he prayed at my feet as if I were,

kisses red as stigmata wounds,

murmurs containing vows to my inner thighs

the litany on his lips hummed over and over was my name, imploring me to be his benevolent deity

Secretly we both knew he coveted the slow burn, like a moth to a flame

Stoking a cinder that barely flickers

Chanting eulogies to his sanity as it went up in flames

And I let him. Hells, I drove him to it

I all but gave him the map leading him to the center of this labyrinth inferno, where I’d lie in wait, tracking his progress with my gaze

Teeth bared in a wolfish smile,

Pupils blown out black as lust, enticing as a new moon, consumed with euphoria when he’d draw nearer to his little death and bring me to my own…

Sobbing into my chest and the crook of my neck, skin crashing like waves into my skin, bodies crashing like continents in a cataclysmic upheaval, reshaping the terrain of our worlds with each rush towards our unified desire, forcing, shifting, heated as volcanic magma flowing just under the surface, sweat pouring like rivers carving out pathways down, down, down… smashing lips, tongues, teeth, a taste of iron and copper, salt and water, the sting of a bite, blooming purple and red bruised petals on skin, where we claimed our territories. Then the roar of blood and passion and the release… of everything… how did I find this perfect man…

Two strong arms grasping every single inch of flesh they can find purchase of within their fingertips and palms, cradling me, reverently, rocking me, into and through and past our release… I have never been touched this way before or since…

For 8 years I slept so soundly, in those arms, nearly every single night. For 8 years he taught me to drink at his fountain, overflowing with so much adoration and love, and lust for me, for my body, for my heart, and soul. He took and took and took it, held it captive, he was the most careful thief. I never realized I was actually the one held hostage. He raised me up so high I didn’t realize it meant that it was that much further to fall, because surely, a love like this, would never fall, would never fail…

How long have I been without his worshipful presence…his eyes drifting over me, forcing me to accept his admiration of every part of me, even the parts I hated so much…

Gently taking my arms and holding them firmly at my sides, so he could SEE me, my beloved, never judging, ever worshipful…

Breath hitching, heart squeezing, bursting, chest ripping open with so much fucking LOVE for him, for him, for him, FOR HIM, FOR HIM, FOR HIM ALWAYS FOR HIM.

Still.

Still for him.

Him.

And they ask me, have you moved on?

Don’t you want to?

Aren’t you lonely?

Has the ground opened up and released my heart from its mortal coil? Has the sun set in the east?

Has the earth kissed the moon? Have the stars blinked out into a pitch black sky? Has anything ever gone the right way in my life? To any fruition? To any happy end? To any decent place?

I lash out or laugh bitterly when asked if my heart is healing, or why it will not be moved from its place of mourning him. He was my singular most devoted soulmate of my entire existence, the one who took it upon himself to devour any and all self doubt and replace it, while filling me, overflowing, again and again, with so much fucking LOVE.

Love that endures, even now, despite all the torture and trauma, rage and fear, heartache and loneliness, that his suicidal death has sunk like a knife, razor sharp and deeply, so deeply into my core. Leaving it there. Unable to remove it, lest I bleed to death. Removing it, removing him, is impossible as removing a vital organ such as my own heart. I wax poetic…

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) < 3

I love you 17 David.

Even now.

Especially now.

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beardedhandstoadshark · 5 months

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Your ocs have to defuse a bomb. (that was hid in the house) what would they do?

I can give ya a joke version and a serious version! (The serious version is kinda dark so I slapped some cw‘s in red above it)

Anyways, joke version!

For the joke version, there’s Red. Ok,context: videogames. She is, upon other things, based on an oc for the first two games of the etrian odyssey series. Those still had an apothecary with its own NPC’s, and EO2’s was a certain guy named Dr. Derek Styles.

This is important, because I also played another funky lil game of theirs called Trauma Center : Under the Knife, a surgeon simulator.…who Dr. Styles happens to be the main character of.

In one of the missions you’re locked in a hall and have to use your surgeon skills to defuse a bomb.

Cue to Red ringing up her cousin living on the other side of the continent so she can run to the town apothecary and play the most hardcore round of "Keep talking and Nobody Explodes“ ever with their local medic (Or second-most, in Derek‘s case.)

As for the serious version…

Cw for mentions of death, lots of existential fear, despair, and detachment from reality (?). Also potential self-sacrificial tendencies? I’m very bad at guessing what these qualify as so just to be sure.

We good? Ok!

I‘m assuming they‘re locked in with no phone connection for some reason because otherwise they’d all have dipped! Especially Yel! And also that the bomb is strong enough to blow up the whole house and not just a grenade because otherwise they’d just find it and bunker up in the opposite corner! So!

Yeah he‘s not having a good time. First to try leaving and the last to accept it won’t work. Panic and mortifying, primal, fear. Takes a while to "calm down“ and even then he’s sitting as far as possible with tears until it’s defused and he‘s far, far away from the house.

Deniz would straight up not register he’s in danger. Or rather, he rationally knows it, but the fear itself doesn’t kick in really. It’s…detached? (Is that the right word?). So he’s actually pretty chill at the start, doing the most work to find it! Until he does. Find it. Then it’s a weird flip-flop between existential fear and more detachment spiked by a really weird feeling of calm and safety until it registers again that Oh Yeah. That‘s not the case at all, is it? He’s in danger. He might die. He could die. He will die. Yea I think at one point he’d just go and stay with Yel.

As for Mage, we’ve got guy severely lashing out because they can’t deal a second time with losing someone close and not being there there to stop it. Would you believe if I told you that "could Mage tank an explosion?“ is a genuine question I keep thinking about? It’s cuz of magic systems vs op abilities. Anyways. Since he’s basically always running around with at least some of the to-be-sold item stock, they‘d down every single buffing potion in one go, cast a big shield, and hope that if it does explode, he’ll survive the resuming magic recoil for long enough to find out if it at least worked. (Rn it probably would work, but barely.)

Violet has some basic knowledge about bombs because it was part of her education after the castle got a threat once, so she’d put on her serious mask to dispatch those who might be a treat to the situation rn and walk Red through the motions once it’s been found. She’ll either have plenty of time afterwards or be dead by then, so there’s no way she can afford to feel anything right now or deal with the others‘. (Spoiler: She does not properly deal with it afterwards. Girl pls stop acting like you’re fine.)

And even if any of the others wanted to do it, Red wouldn’t let them defuse the bomb in her stead. But it’s fine! Red’s the Hero, this is what she’s here for! To protect others! So she’ll protect her friends. They’ll just need to do what she says and let her do this. Red’s got this. Everything‘s in control, She’s got this in control. Nothing will turn out bad as long ad she’s here, because she’s the Hero, and nothing can happen to her. It won’t let her. Nope, no worries. She’s got it in control. It’s in control. Everything is in control. It’s in control. It’s in control. ITS IN CONTROL. ITS IN CONTROL ITS IN CONTROL SHE‘S IN-

Oh hey, would‘cha look at that. The bomb‘s defused. See? Told ya it‘d be fine as long as everything goes Red‘s way :)

#another anon ask #original character do not steal #character study (???)#attempts at proper character reactions to not-light hearted situation swere made #disclaimer; this was not written by a writer #so probably not very realistic reactions tbh

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toribookworm22 · 10 months

Text

Find The Word (×2)

Thank you @sam-glade & @drabbleitout !

No pressure tagging: @acertainmoshke @barnmousecries @curhartwrites @ehlaaaaaaaa & my open tag!

Your words are: BASE, COOK, FELLOW, & BEE.

My words were: know, knife, keen, and kind & rain, firm, garbage, and regret. All over the place this time; origin under each excerpt. Hidden under the cut.

Know

Neither Merieh nor Daran are Potentials. Though they’re probably the smartest people I know, Merieh’s trauma and Daran’s stubborn loyalty to her keep them out of the StormWatchers’ testing pool.

Knife

- StormWatcher

Ignoring the blood, I picked up the knife and set to work cutting them loose. They were silent. That told me all I needed to know.

So desperate to stay Songbird, I forgot their talons get cut.

Keen

- Animatronic Saga

We didn’t stop walking until Aster tripped. I wasn’t keen on the idea of stopping at all, but the stubborn boy refused to get up, yanking his scarf down despite my groan of protest. “Can’t we… just stop… for a minute to two?”

I threw my hands up in frustration but pulled my scarf down after uttering a few select cuss words. “Your minute or two is different from mine.”

“Well not all of us have nonexistent pain receptors.”

Kind

- an post-apocalyptic story of mine

Early in the morning, the beach is almost empty, meaning Daniel and I are safe to walk hand in hand, him in a pair of swim shorts and me in the kind of sundress I'd usually mock and some silly hat a vendor all but forced onto my head on our way here. But Daniel's looking at me like I'm a goddess reborn.

Rain

- Animatronic Saga short story

The wind has picked up since I was outside. There is no sign of Lisbet Hark, but I didn’t expect there to be. StormWatchers never hang around long. I think that’s what I envy most: the freedom. Follow the storm. Chase the wind. I try not to edge too close to the rain, but Merieh still eyes me warily, sticking to her perfectly-centered beeline for home.

Firm

- StormWatcher

Then the world was silent.

I tried to move, but whatever was on top of me was holding firm. I felt something warm and sticky dribble onto me. I had to move.

Garbage

- Animatronic Saga

“You stupid coding piece of garbage!” The tablet collided with the wall, probably shattering the already ancient screen, but I didn’t have it in me to care. Quickshot could add it to my bill. “No help.” A headache was creeping up my neck and into my temples, threatening to make my bad day worse. “Absolutely no help at all.”

Regret

- Animatronic Saga

“Would you start over? If you could, I mean.”

Eyes clouding over, I watched as she departed into her restart. Was it better? Or did everything still end here? Did she regret it? “Yes,” she whispered. “I would.”

- Animatronic Saga

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing tag game #find the word #×2 #animatronic saga #stormwatcher #animatronic saga short story #post-apocalyptic story

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vampireshmampire · 2 years

Text

The Mirror Crack'd From Side to Side

Guillermo can't remember the last thirteen years of his life. It has something to do with being found beaten half to death on the side of the road three months ago. Although he’s safe now, living with relatives far from New York, the trauma lingers—physically and mentally—and he’s having trouble putting his pieces back together. Everyone says he just needs to give it time, but he may not have much of that left. The past is catching up, and it’s not going to wait for him to remember it.

AO3

That night, you do not dream of blood.

You dream of a house.

It’s ancient and gothic, looming over you, stark against the overcast sky. It is an almost overbearing presence, but at the same time, comforting. You blink, and it is night. The top of the house melds with the darkness as if being swallowed up by the starless night. The front door swings open and golden light tumbles down the stairs and across the lawn. You take a step forward and you are indoors. You stand in a foyer crowded with paintings and antiques.

The paintings are empty.

There’s something you need to do here. Someone you need to find. You want to call out a name, but you can’t remember what is it. Your feet lead you forward, straight down the central hallway, under the arch of two curving staircases. You walk and walk and walk, and just as you think its not this far, you stop in front of a door.

It opens for you. The room beyond is longer than it is wide, and as crammed full of ancient furniture and knickknacks as the foyer. In the center of the room is a coffin, large and gold and elaborately decorated. You don’t feel any fear or discomfort at the sight of it. Is this what you were looking for?

No—but almost. Not the coffin itself, but…

There’s a sound on your lips—a name? a title?—as you reach for the lid. You grip the edge tightly and lift it up.

You open your eyes and stare at the ceiling.

It’s the most coherent dream you’ve had yet, and you remember every second of it. It’s almost refreshing, even though it makes almost no sense.

4488 Tremont Street

You pull out your phone and before you can stop yourself, you put the number into google maps. You hit the button for street view.

Ten minutes later, you flush the toilet and watch the technicolor swirl of bile and blood vanish down the drain. Now you know what comes after the nosebleeds.

You are suddenly sick of it, sick of being scared and confused, sick of being disconnected and detached and undermined by your own body, sick of bad dreams and bad days, sick to death of headaches and nosebleeds.

You hate the world. You hate your life. You hate the people who did this to you. You hate yourself. You hate the assholes you lived with, a group of people who looked at your situation and apparently saw nothing but a way to get you out of their lives.

A group?

A group.

You lived with a group of people.

Mentally, you tie a little piece of red string around the pin and tie it to snapshots of long dark hair sliding over your fingers, a shovel biting into dark soil, a voice—not the words, but the sound and rhythm of it.

You’re still not sure what to do with the knife peeling away long strips on a length of wood, or the black tally marks marching over a wall.

You let the frustration take you to work. You don’t get much done, because the anger gets in the way, and you spend a lot of time glaring blankly at ancient purchase orders. You go home.

There is a package waiting for you on the stairs.

The moment you see it, you know. It’s exactly like the last one: same size, same kind of envelope, same cellophane mummification. You don’t bother to wait til you’re in your apartment. You hack at it with your key, ripping at the tape until it shreds away and you can pull it open with desperate fingers.

Inside is your wallet.

There is a note. It is not in the elegant hand of to not kill Guillermo, but blue ballpoint pressed deep into a post it note, all caps:

NO YOUR NOT.

What should you do? What could you do?

You feel vaguely annoyed at the misspelling. If Nicoli Bronson is going to write you threatening notes, he could at least have the decency to be grammatically accurate. And then the realization hits that it’s starting to look like your worst case scenario might be the one that happened. Your hands tighten around the package, the note crumpling in your fingers.

Your mind is buzzing, swirling, you are shaking and you want to be sick.

You go upstairs, and you lock your apartment door, and you lean your back against it. Your heart throbs in your chest—you’d be afraid you’re having a heart attack if you weren’t too busy being afraid of everything else.

You still jump when your phone rings. The sound is overloud in the silence of your apartment. You pull it from your pocket, hoping it’s your mother, but knowing it won’t be.

Unknown caller.

New York area code.

You cancel the call, but don’t put your phone away.

You’ll buy a deadbolt for the door. A can of mace. A baseball bat and some nails, maybe.

Your phone rings.

Unknown caller.

New York area code.

You cancel the call, and count under your breath. One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand--

The phone rings.

You pick up.

“Hello?” you ask. Your voice sounds dry and far away even to your own ears.

“Guillermo de la Cruz?” It’s a man’s voice, cool and collected, but too cool, almost cold. The sound made sweat prick along your skin like tiny needles.

“Who is this?”

"You don't know me, but we have mutual acquaintances. They want you to know that they found you. They know where you are, and they’re coming for you. And this time, there is no one who can take you away from them--"

The adrenaline explodes across the inside of your skull in a single violent burst. A new thought occurs, one that has somehow, until now, manage to slip your paranoid fantasizing.

You hang up, block the number, hide your phone under the couch cushions and lock yourself in your room. You jam yourself into the coat closet, which is stupid, but the dark and the smallness of the space make you feel hidden.

What if you hadn’t been left by the side of the road? What if you hadn’t been let go?

What if you’d escaped?

#wwdits #guillermo de la cruz #what we do in the shadows #what we blog in the shadows #fic: the mirror crack'd

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