angst-art-writing

[angst-art-writing]

A Lock with No Key

TW: Abuse, trafficking, minor whump

Sixteen Years Ago. 

"Get out of my fuckinhg house.”

A man, a man she barely knew, just kicked Zaina out from own home. All because he lusted for her mother. Zaina knew from the start he never liked her. He told her, constantly, what a burden she was. How she could never do anything for herself- and what an absolute freak she was. A freak, for making the smoke from the fire bend and turn at her will. A freak, for making flowers explode their seeds all over the place. Something from the depths of hell, she had heard him say to her mother. 

She never imagined she would be thrown out, though.  She never imagined that flowers would wilt at her touch, never imagined that in that second the man would grab her and shake her, then throw her out the door cursing and saying, 

"If you return, I'll fucking kill you." Those words had slurred from his mouth then, ran with the scent of alcohol directly into her face. He would keep his promise, she knew. And her mother had merely watched, shaking with fearful eyes that peeked over his shoulder. When Zaina had looked to her for help her mother had looked away. 

With nothing in her hands, wearing nothing but a nightgown and torn shoes that would fall off within another hundred steps, Zaina turned and began to walk. What else could she do?

Zaina didn't cry that night. She wanted to, she wished she did. But no tears came. Good thing too, because they might have frozen on her face. Night-time was the coldest part of the day, and the one she hated the most. There was no sun, only the moon and its cold glare. She had no comfort, no light. 

There was no direction in her steps, none at all. Her feet dragged through the floor, step after step, shoes withering away. She headed into the forest and her gown snagged on branches. She just let them tug until they ripped cloth away, and she continued to wander aimlessly. She didn't care. She didn't care one bit. 

That's what she would have liked to believe, anyways. 

Zaina had no idea how long she was walking for. Days, months, weeks passed. She got by through stealing food from houses she would find on her pointless journey. Stole fruits from their trees and bread from their table, water from their streams. She survived, just barely. Until she went too far where people did not build their houses. She didn't know how to survive completely on her own. She knew how to take. Take and take and take. 

During that time, she still practiced her magic. She couldn't control it well, but she learned. When her dress snagged she'd turn and stare at the fabric. Thin dark clouds would come forth and would pick her dress off the branches with such delicate care. It was the only thing she had, her magic at that point. 

Other times, the magic would be explosive. Every time she thought of the man, the man and how his hands left purple ugly marks on her skin- Utter darkness would burst out from the tips of her fingers and crash against trees, splintering it to bits.  There were moments. Bad moments. She would scream and curse and splinter trees and rocks in anger. And then the would collapse to her knees and rip at her hair, screamed at herself and sobbed because she knew she was no better than that man. Not when she would act like him.

Zaina had made it to a village, one with lots of people. It had been years by now, she was entering her teen years. She hadn't seen that many people in a while- Learning to hunt and following the critters to see what berries they picked and avoided to prevent dying of poison. But now she traveled with purpose. She wanted to go back to the Capitol. To have a new name, and a new life, where she could work in a library and hide her powers from the world. Where she could sit and lose herself in books. She knew when she was getting close when she encountered multiple villages in a row. There was one village she remembered vividly- One that she would never forget. 

When Zaina arrived in the heavenly village, the scent of warm food lured her in. The place was bright- despite it being winter-and was bursting with golds and browns and oranges. She went up to a stand, and when no one was looking, she stole a piece of something. Something that looked so good and felt warm in her hands- that she immediately recognized it as cookies. 

Hiding them, she turned and went away, as fast as her thin legs could carry her. She wanted to eat them in peace, alone and savor the treats. She settled down in a narrow alleyway, sitting on a crate that would have broken underneath her if she had not been starving and malnourished. 

She took the cookies in her hand. They felt warm, warm like gloves. Warm like fire. Warm, like the sun and people and..

Zaina took a bite. It had been the most warm thing she'd ever had. Something that wasn't an apple, and plain bread. She kept eating. Her hands shoved the food in her mouth, like some kind of wild animal, cupping the food so as to not drop a precious bit of crumb. She was so hungry. Always starving.

The starving girl was so lost in her own heaven that she didn't even see men coming up in front of her, heading her way. When she was done she finally looked up, and they were in front of her, dressed in shiny metals lined with gold. Zaina recognized their armor from descriptions her mother had told her of ages ago. This was no village, this was the Capitol itself. Diana Atarah lived here after conquering Victor Deimos, slaying him in the Last battle. Her heart soared with hope and she felt safe immediately. Her mother had told her, before the man had come, how they would move to the Capital and stay in the Pheme Inn. How they would be able to meet Diana and personally thank her. She had made it. She had actually made it here. 

They told her then, to get up and follow them. Their voices were emotionless- But still, Zaina prayed and was sure that they wanted to help her. Maybe they would give her a home! Without a thought of doubt she followed them eagerly. She stared at her reflection in the back of one’s armor and her face fell slightly as she caught sight of herself. 

She looked so.. pitiful. Even with her distorted face there were her eye bags, lips chapped so badly she would cut her tongue whenever she tried to lick them- Thin, stringy hair on her head that looked wet even though it was dry. She stared at herself until one of the men behind her prodded her back and ordered her to walk.

The men led her away from the village, away from the warm sunset village, to a field next to the forest. A cart stood there pulled by giant horses who looked like they could crush her skull. It looked like a cart prisoners were pulled in- Zaina had seen a few on the road. Her steps faltered and slowed, but they nudged her and she quickened her pace. Where were they going?

As they approached the cart Zaina could see children inside- Children that looked like her, children with bones pulled too tightly across the skin, sunken in eyes and dirty feet and hands. Children like her.

The back door opened for her, and one of the men stepped aside to let her in. Her heart sank. 

"Go," he said gruffly. 

Zaina hesitated for just a moment, but she knew better than to disobey. She crawled in and settled herself down, one child's shoulder digging into hers, her other shoulder jammed against the bars. The door slammed up again and shut with a click, but Zaina turned to look at the men. Quietly, and with all the bravery left in her, she asked, "Where are we going? Why.."

"Why? Because you're filth." Through the metal bars of the cart, he spat at her. She flinched back and wiped it off quickly, her eyes wide. "We can't have things like you here."

Another man had come up, followed by some others, but they weren't dressed in shiny armor. The man who had spat on Zaina turned, fishing out a brown bag that rattled with what sounded like coins. The new man took it, shook his hand and turned with a satisfied smile like that of a wolf’s.

It was clear then, that she had just been sold. Her blood went still, the oxygen in her lungs froze. 

Whatever was left of the broken bits of her heart, shattered into fragments along with everything else she had. 

The cart moved on with a lurch and Zaina could only stare as the village grew smaller and smaller. The dream of a new life slipped between her fingers like water. 

The cart moved on for what felt like days. It was cold, dirty, and smelled awful. Kids peed whenever they had to- It was apparent that the men they had been sold to wouldn't let them out anyways. Even when they tried to get out, fists met their delicate and starving faces and coated them in scarlet, purple and blue. Some of the kids had died. That was the only time they were allowed out. The cart left a trail of corpses to be buried in the freshly fallen snow, or to be eaten by whatever predators lurked at night.

Zaina was ready to accept it. But still, part of her couldn't stand the smell of urine and despair. She wanted out.  So, when the men were sleeping all but one to keep watch- She turned to watch him for a moment. The fire was crackling in front of him, it seemed to be waving at her, taunting, ‘go on, do it. Do it!’

She took a deep breath and focused on the fire, staring hard at it. Bending to her thoughts, the flames began to bow and twist slightly like a flower caught in a breeze. 

All she needed was a few sparks. She focused on a group of them, holding the sparks still before they got the chance to vanish. They quivered in the air, deciding whether to obey or not. Eventually though, they succumbed and wandered over to the man, settling on the edge of his cloak. The sparks burned brighter, before exploding into a giant flame that rapidly spread up the cloak. 

The man shrieked and cried, waking his partners. They frantically tried to put the coat out, but as they got close their own clothes caught on fire. The scent of bruning flesh filled the air, mingling in with their cries of agony. 

 Meanwhile, Zaina kicked the door of the cart open and toppled out- Running. 

She glanced back at the men and the screaming men on fire, who now writhed on the ground while the other children escaped as well. Zaina turned her head and kept running, running away from the man's screams, which seemed to sink into her ears like thorns. 

She didn't know how far she was running, but her feet ached and stung each time they landed on the ground. Her calves burned like, her lungs begging for oxygen she didn't have time to take in.

Snow began to fall that night, coating the ground. Still, she kept going with the stinging cold.

Zainas stopped, but not because she wanted to. Her foot caught on a fat root and she collapsed onto the freshly fallen snow, heaving and crying. Zaina hadn’t even realized the tears on her face, or the deep breaths she took desperately. 

Her vision was dark, so dark she couldn't even see the snow- A thin cloth seemed to obstruct her vision but nothing was there. She continued to lie there and sob heavily. 

She was so tired. She craved sleep, craved it so badly. A warm bed, a soft blanket and her mother's hand smoothing her hair back. She clung onto that thought, as her consciousness drifted- Unsure if she would be able to feel her heart beating within her the next morning. 

--

The young girl stirred. A hand was brushing her thin hair back, and she was warm, wrapped in something heavy, her cheek rested against something warm. She allowed her mind to dream again. 

Mom?

Her eyes didn't want to open. She exhaled slowly, but she had to see. She had to see if it was true.. Her eyes peeled open, and she looked up, squinting. 

It took a minute, but eventually her vision managed to focus. She saw a pale man with a sharp face, with dark red eyes. They burned like the color of a leaf changing for the upcoming fall or the color of rocks in the middle of the fire- The color of that man’s face when he screamed at her mother. A horrible, damned, color. His gaze wasn’t even on her, but just the aura of it made her palms sweat.

He was walking with her, holding her steadily. He hadn’t even noticed she was awake- So she just closed her eyes again. He wasn’t hurting her.. Yet. The yet kept her from falling back asleep, as the man walked down some hallway. It smelled of rain, wherever she was. Metallic, old. 

Zaina only opened her eyes slightly when she heard the creak of the door and the man was setting her down tenderly. Slowly, she looked up and he looked at her. She shuddered when his red eyes met hers. 

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “You’re awake.”

Zaina said nothing. 

The man took a step back. Zaina was now lying on a soft bed. An actual bed- A bed with a blanket and pillows and not made up out of grass or sticks and moss or snow. She couldn’t help but sink into it, the poor girl. The man took a step back, his arms behind his back now. His face was unreadable.  “I saw you lying in the middle of the snow. I figured I’d help you out..” Zaina stared at him. She gathered up her voice and pushed the words out from behind her teeth. “But.. Why?” “Why what?” He gave her a look as if she was stupid. “Why did you.. Why did you..help me?” “Why wouldn’t I?” His voice was soft and cool- His words flowed together like a spring river at dawn. “I’m not some monster to leave a girl sleeping in the snow for dead. You clearly needed the help.” He smiled but Zaina felt no assurance. “Thank you.” Zaina frowned. It would have been easier to leave her, wouldn’t it? So many people turn a blind eye to people like her; It had become unusual to expect help. Outsiders only saw her as a rat. 

“It is the least I can do. Where are your parents?” “They kicked me out.” The man’s voice changed then, to one of pity. It made her embarrassed.  “I am.. Sorry. Were you traveling to another family?”

“I don’t have any.” She wanted to shut up then. She sounded so helpless. And she was, truly. “I don’t.. Have any place to go.” Her eyes watered, and her neck felt constricted. 

“Oh, my. That’s a tragedy..” The man’s voice was soft now. He sounded like he was in pain for her. “What’s your name, dear?” “Zaina.. It’s Zaina..” Her voice cracked. 

“Well, Zaina. You can stay..” He moved closer, and hugged her. It felt like her mothers, yet again. She didn’t move away. “My name is Victor.” She didn’t hear the last part, didn’t hear his name. Little did that young girl know that those arms would soon become a prison,  strings tied to her pieces and conducted and manipulated by his fingers, forcing pieces to fit into his image. And that stay was a promise she was forced to keep.

She would keep her promise, he knew. 

[angst-art-writing]

Locks and Keys

It was silent, other than calm breathing inside of Artemis’s room. Artemis lied on her back on the floor, letting the coolness of it ice the bruises and aches she felt. She gazed up at the ceiling. Even if it was silent in that room, she could still hear the buzzing of her own thoughts in her head, echoing louder and louder the more she tried to silence them, to think of something else. She didn't even notice Santiago coming in before he called her name.

"Art?"

Her head turned towards him, and she pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Hey," she greeted. She offered him a small half-assed smile which only turned to a grimace as she moved, her wounds sending painful throbs and stings through her.

Santi smiled and shut the door quietly, heading over and plopping down right next to her. Santi was the only Reaper who was close to her age and wasn't a total dick. She'd known him for a while now, he was one of the only people she could talk to. They were close, but distant. Artemis considered him a brother. Annoying sometimes, but she loved him unconditionally. He often referred to her as his sister, too. 

"Well you look just lovely, huh? I think the white brings out your eyebags. And your hair- What's going on with that?" He teased, nudging her gently with his elbow.

"Oh, shut up." She rolled her eyes at him, and he smiled wider. She came with an insult of her own. "I know you aren't talking shit when your teeth are as straight as my sexuality.”

"I love our chats." It was quiet for a second before Santi spoke again, his voice dropping when he did. "I heard what happened. With the Neoma girl."

"Hm? Oh...Yeah. Her." 

"How come you didn't just tell them?" He looked over, with a raised brow. He looked genuinely curious, not like he was accusing her. “It would have been easier. I would have told them.” 

Artemis shrugged, mainly because she still didn't really have an answer.

"I knew you were stubborn-but not like that." When she didn't answer again, oddly (as she was usually up to talking), he kept speaking and asked, "What do you think? About living here now?"

"I absolutely hate it. Even home with dad was better than this." She frowned and leaned back some, tilting her head back against the wall. "At least then I could take walks on my own, you know? Instead I'm stuck here. All the time with everyone else telling me what to do.” 

Santi gently reached for her hand. He didn't try to hug her, which was appreciated. Hugs just felt like traps now, even if she couldn't help but lean into them, fear always wrapped around her as arms did. A warm embrace only for cool fingers to dig into old wounds, hug you so you can't get away. Hugs didn't feel safe; She wished they did. 

Artemis took his hand and sighed before she continued, "I mean, I guess the only good part is I don't have to worry about groceries anymore, right?" She tried to joke, and smiled softly. But he didn't really know what that meant. 

Santi shrugged a little. He just raised his eyebrows. “I guess..?”

She would often sell herself and let people do whatever they wanted, and people would give money to her. She knew how to steal, of course. But if she was caught and sent to jail it would mean very bad things. It was easier to trade. Still, not having to do that anymore wasn't as good as she hoped. Vincent let people do whatever they wanted anyways- But Santi didn't need to know that. He didn't know most things, and Artemis didn't want to tell him. He wasn't the right person to talk to, and besides, he had his own worries. She also didn’t want him to see her as a slut, truthfully.

"I'm sorry," he said after a second. "Is your dad staying here too?"

"I don't know. Maybe.."

"Maybe Vincent will let you stay at my place with me?"

"That's nice, Santi, but it would never fly with them. They want me here." He squeezed her hand tighter, and she went on. "I have the arena today."

"Groups?"

"I hope not. I'm exhausted." 

“I’ll be here when you get back. Make sure you’re not just slapping band-aids on things that need stitches.”

Artemis laughed shortly and leaned her head against him. She just sighed softly.

Santiago had never seen her fight before, and she was thankful for that. He knew how much she hated those things, and Artemis would hate for him to see her as entertainment. It was one of their promises. She could remember when they made their promises clearly. They were sitting under Vincent's desk, hiding. He was hiding from his boss, Spencer- of the Workers Unit. They developed weapons and suits for the Reapers, using information from the other Unit, the Researchers. Researchers conducted experiments on Mythics, the like.

They had sat under that desk, across from each-other. One of the first promises. It was forbidden for Santiago to see her fight. After they had made that promise, they had been dragged off, away from each other- Only to continue to sneak out to hang out. Eventually Spencer and Vincent stopped trying to fight them, and they had gotten closer over the years.

Before that one, however, there was the very first promise. That they would stay together, no matter what. It was so easy to say that, to lock fingers together and promise on it. She looked towards him, and she saw him on that day. He was so small, his eyes bright. Even now his eyes were still bright. She wondered if she looked the same from then too. 

He turned and looked over, and Artemis was dragged out of the memory. It was one she cherished. 

He sighed and smiled a little. "I kinda wish I was like you. People seem to like you here, y'know."

"What do you even mean by that? People don’t like me here. They can’t stand me.”

"No they don’t.” Santi sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Y'know, they're always training with you, they want to push you to do better. You get all kinds of attention, from Vincent himself. They like you, y’know? You’re…Important, here.”

She just shrugged and looked away, before he spoke again.

 "They enjoy you." Exactly. She hated that. "You fight well, they want to make you better.. You get attention from the boss himself, they give you weapons. They love you, Art. Just.. sometimes you don't listen. I kinda wish I got that attention, sometimes. I mean- Everyone just wants to be better than you.”

She said nothing and just looked down. He was right. It was true. She did get a lot of attention.. Maybe they were just trying to make her better, in some way.. She didn't have time to dwell too much on it before he said something else. Part of her wanted to yell at him, to scream and ask how in the hell he could say that- But she couldn’t. His words kept echoing in her head. You’re important. 

"Here- I have some oranges I stole from the kitchen." He fished into the pocket of his pants and took a few out, passing them to her. She took one and let go of his hand to 

The two just sat with each-other, and Artemis allowed him to braid her hair. Santi said he liked doing it, it made him feel smart. Whatever the hell that meant.

As he did, he told her about what he was working on. Santiago was part of the Workers, and he told her about the new suits they were working on, and how soon the Researchers might be able to extract powers from the Mythics. He sounded excited- Excited about the new things he could invent. He was.. Proud. 

“Santi,” Artemis said. “I have a question for you.” “No, I will not pierce your nose for you.”

“Not that,” Artemis huffed. “Something else.” “Then shoot.” “Do you ever think about leaving? Or, not leaving. But what would it be like if we did? Just… Out of curiosity.” Countless times she'd dream of running away with Santi, making their own life. She had wanted to go back to where she had came from with him, to be able to do whatever they wanted. Create whatever they wanted together. Be whatever they wanted. He could be a scientist, and she could be a pilot. He would save lives and she would be up in the air, touring the clouds, flipping and turning- And they’d always have a home to come back to. To be safe in.

But it was unrealistic. It was stupid. Home was here, and it would always be home. Santi had seemed to accept that, and part of her was jealous of that fact. She knew Santi’s answer before he even said it. “Not really. I mean… This is all I know. I don’t want to have to learn new rules for everything again. I just… Don’t see myself. Out there. I used to. But not anymore.” When Artemis was silent he asked, “Do you?”

“No,” Artemis lied. “Not anymore,” she repeated.

Santiago tied off the braid then, sitting back in front of her and smiling. He went to grab another orange, but another voice interrupted.

"Santiago!" They called distantly from outside. “Santi!”

"Ah, shit. Thats me-"

"No, really?" Artemis glanced back at him and he stood, letting go of her hair. "Go on, you'll get both our asses kicked if you're late from your break. Mostly mine, since you’re the goody-goody.”

"That's not true. They like you better." He raised an eyebrow, and then stood. He didn't know all they did to her. And what he did know, it was excused. It was her fault, a punishment for her actions. Truly, it was. 

Artemis scoffed and pushed at his leg slightly. "Go, then. I'll see you later, mkay?"

He moved forward and grinned at her, pausing to flick her in the head. He waved and then slipped out the door, and Artemis was left alone again. She slumped back against the wall, gingerly touching the braid he had made. She waited, this time dreading when the door would open again.

---

[angst-art-writing]

"But let me give you the dark side of writing groups. One really dark side of writing groups is, particularly newer writers, don't know how to workshop.

"And one of the things they'll try to do is they'll try to make your story into the story they would write, instead of a better version of the story you want to write.

"And that is the single worst thing that can happen in feedback, is someone who is not appreciating the story you want to make, and they want to turn it into something else.

"New workshoppers are really bad at doing this. In other words, they're really good at doing a bad thing, and they're doing it from the goodness of their heart. They want you to be a better writer. They want to help you. The only way they know is to tell you how they would do it, which can be completely wrong for your story."

—Brandon Sanderson, Lecture #1 Introduction, Writing Science Fiction And Fantasy

[angst-art-writing]

Decisions

TW: Suggestive content, slight gore. 

The next day, when Talyn felt confident enough to return, Will and Clint had walked her home and she thanked them by giving them a basket full of Melanie’s treats she had stashed away in her room. The two headed back home after, doing their best to hide the goods behind their backs as they hurried out of the Inn. 

When the two arrived at the house, Clint and Will found Aliane, Will's mother, carefully cradling the youngest of her three kids, Jace. Will frowned, heading over to stand beside her. "How is he?" 

Aliane looked up for a moment. "Sleeping. He's… I don't know." She frowned, strolling around the room to keep the baby asleep. "I went to three different Healers today. Prices have supposedly gone up. I didn't have enough…" She turned away then and sighed, shaking her head. She began heading upstairs. "There's supper in the kitchen. I'm gonna lay him down.." 

When Aliane had gone upstairs Clint stepped over to Will. "What's it looking like?"

Will shrugged his shoulders, crossing his arms. "He won't even cry. He just seems to sleep all day. Barely eats. I hear my mom begging him to eat in the night. But he refuses.” Clint could see how tense Will was, how he tried to play it off casually- But Clint could always detect the worry creeping into his voice. 

"We need to get medicine for him." Clint shrugged his cloak back on, drawing up the hood. "We're getting it, one way or another."

Will looked back at him. His eyes lit up and he nodded, following Clint out the door and into the Capitol. He quickly scrawled down a note for Aliane, tossing it back into the house before they hurried off into the chilly night air. 

The Healers were one of the richest in the Capitol, aside from Guards, Tavern Keepers, and Diana. Healers thrived up towards the north of the city, living in towers flourishing with exotic plants and animals imported from around the region. 

Clint strolled up to one of the houses Will directed them too, stopping in front of the gate. One of the ravens peered at them from the top of the gate, beady eyes unblinking. Oddly enough, the raven remained silent and turned away- as if letting them pass. 

Clint shrugged then and pushed open the gate with a sharp creak. Will gave him a cautious look, hesitating for just a moment before following Clint up the marble steps, pausing to look at the glowing flower buds that had begun to close and protect themselves for winter. Clint knocked firmly on the door. A small boy opened the door a crack, peering out at them with wide eyes. His hands gripped the edge of the door nervously. “I… Can… Can I help you..?” Will and Clint shared a look. Clint cleared his throat loudly and moved to speak but Will said something before he got the chance. “We need your aid. Are you the Healer here?” His voice was soft, like when he spoke to his siblings or Aliane. The boy shook his head then. He glanced behind him nervously. “He’ll.. He’ll be out. S-Soon..” He shut the door quickly then and his footsteps were heard pattering away in a nervous rhythm. 

They waited for about ten minutes. Clint had begun analyzing how he could get to the top window and what was the probability of someone hearing him if he broke the glass, and if it was even worth it. Just as he was about to really test it, the door clicked and opened wide to show a short, plump man in night-clothes. He eyed them suspiciously, tiny eyes squinting at them through bushy eyebrows. “Well? What’s the issue? Don’t tell me it’s Night-Fever. The only cure for that is to stop letting whores into your-” “That’s certainly not what we’re here for,” Will said hurriedly while his face flushed beet red, in tune with Clint’s own face. “I’m here for my brother. My mom came by earlier. Aliane?” The man’s eyes lit up. “Ah, yes! I know Aliane very well. She stops by often for all sorts of things. Her pay is good, too. Except for this time. She couldn’t pay the price this time, she said. And I really needed that pay. Shame for us both.” He led the way inside the house, pausing inside the kitchen with them both. Clint eyed the silk on this nightgown, trailing up to observe the intricate gold patterns in the collar. “You certainly needed it?” “Yes, I did. I’m old.” He shrugged as if that was a perfectly acceptable answer and Clint was stupid for not knowing. “Well, you see,” said Will quickly, “is that my little brother is very sick and he-” “I know, I know. Your mother told me all ‘bout it. Don’t bore me again, boy. If your mother can’t pay the price, I can’t give you the medicine. You should know how it works.” “How much was it? I’m sure we can get it to you.” The old man smiled. “It’s not the coin I wanted.”

“Then what was it? The man looked between them both as a slow smile formed on his lips, wrinkling his face. He clicked his tongue. “Oh, you both are young. Too young.” The man reached out and placed a hand on their shoulders. “I wanted what every man wants from a woman. If she truly loved her child, she would have paid the price.” Both blades drew at the same time. Clint’s sword and Will’s blade both met at the old man’s neck, gleaming in the dim glow of the candles around the room. The man barely even seemed to care, raising his eyebrows up at them slowly as he scowled. “I’ll have you both arrested.” “Can’t do that if you’re dead.” Clint pressed his sword closer to the old man’s neck, a tiny string of blood running down the steel. The old man narrowed his eyes, his brow twitching as Clint cut him. He looked between him and Clint, as if trying to see what his chances were. He sighed after a moment. “I.. Suppose, there is another way you could pay.” “Yes?” Will tilted his head to the side, his eyes never leaving the old man’s. Clint had never seen a look this dark before. Not from him. “In the name of… Discovery.” He cocked his head to the side. “I need subjects to work on. Human subjects, that is.” “No. Never. That’s repulsive. That’s vile.” He glared at him, holding the handle of his blade even tighter. “Then go home. And stop wasting my time.” He leaned forward, straining his own skin against the blades at his neck. “I know you can’t kill me. You can’t stand your young, innocent hands like that.” He looked at Will. “I can feel your blade shaking, boy. Besides, if you kill me- Diana will be on you. Your entire family will suffer by the trial, or by running. There’s nowhere to go out of here. Sheath your toys.” Clint and Will shared a look. Clint wanted to press the blade in deeper, just a little more- But Will was staring at him. The man was right, as much as the two both hated it. Nonetheless, the two lowered their blades and tucked them away. 

‘‘You’re right,” Will huffed. He turned away then. “We’re sorry for wasting your time. Forgive us.” he turned and began heading out. Clint stared after him in shock, before shooting a glare at the man who only wiggled his fingers at him in mockery.  Clint reluctantly followed after with the snickers of the old man following them out the door. 

When they reached outside Clint turned towards Will with a huff. “Why would we just leave? We need that medicine!” “If he told Diana we would be fleeing the Capital. And he’s right! Where would we go? How could we possibly travel? My brother can barely eat!” Will kept his voice in a hushed whisper, frustration creeping into his voice. “We are getting the medicine. We’re stealing it.” Will began walking to the back of the house. ‘My mother told me where he keeps his things. She’s the only one who’s ever seen it. She also told me he had rocks for brains and kept the key behind the frame of a painting. I snagged it on the way out.” Clint stared at him for a long moment. “You did all that?” “I was hoping he would give us the stuff. But now that he hasn’t, and what he was asking for, I don’t feel bad stealing it from him.” “He’ll know it was us.” Clint crouched down by some bushes next to Will. Will pushed the bramble aside, revealing the door to a basement. 

“We just have to watch how much we take.” Will unlocked the door and pried the door open. Nothing but darkness could be seen past the first few steps. Will hesitated before going in, looking back at beckoning Clint to follow after. They were met with another door that Will unlocked yet again. Inside, a soft orange glow filled the room from the candles. Shelves full of bottles and containers lined the room along with papers written in a neat scrawl. Will began searching through it all, while Clint turned to open the drawers. Clint paused when he opened the first drawer, his brow furrowing. Inside were colorful scales in a single sheet, delicate and thin and brightly colored. He paused for a moment, briefly remembering how amazed he had been at seeing this color of Carina’s tail when they had rescued her. “Why does he have this?” He showed the scales to Clint. Will glanced over then.  He raised one eyebrow and sighed slowly. “...The skin can act as bandages. It helps wounds heal much faster.” He turned away. “That’s why we had to save Carina. They always go hunting for their scales over there- That’s the reason Nerin stays away from us.” He picked out a bottle from the shelf. “Here!” Clint frowned. He had been there to rescue Carina, but he had never known what would have happened if they hadn’t intervened. He let the scales down in the drawer, closing it back up without another word. The way home was peaceful one. Will was relieved with the medicine and herbs now in his pocket. He had also managed to steal some portions of other things as well. He walked with a bounce in his step, and Clint debated on whether or not to tell him. He didn’t want to ruin his mood. However, he didn’t have to gather up all his words. Will had been eyeing him for a while now, his eyebrows raised. Finally Will stopped and turned to face him. “Alright- What could you be upset about?” “I signed up for The Front.” The word spilled out without any kind of restraint. Will went silent then, his shoulders stiffening and his eyes growing wide. “What?” “Training starts in a few days. I know what you think- But I want to do something, Will. I want to be someone people can look up to and see what the people who protect us do want to protect us. That there’s good in the systems.” Clint looked away from him. “I’ll be living on the base. Everything’s been settled.” “And you did this without letting any of us know first? This is a huge decision, Clint! You can’t just- leave!” “I didn’t want to be talked out of it.” Clint fought to keep his voice steady, his face cool and blank. “I’m not dropping out of your lives. I’ll still be here, I’ll still visit. I’m sorry.” Will just shook his head at him. He looked ready to yell, Clint could tell from the way his nose scrunched and his eyes flared like sparked wood. Surprisingly, he didn’t. He just turned away and began walking away, leaving Clint to wonder if he should follow or not. 

[angst-art-writing]

Whumpees in cars

This is a horribly stupid thing to have brain rot over given that it is the most niche thing I have ever seen but *ahem* Whumpees in cars. Not tied up in the trunk or anything, but just… in cars. It doesn’t really matter why (maybe they’re putting distance between them and whumper, maybe they’re trying to outrun a disaster, or reach a place to get medical attention, who knows?)

Waking up slumped against the side door, feverishly pressing their cheek/head against the cool glass of the window as they drift off again.

Getting patched up in the back of a car, friend/teammate driving as caretaker does their best to bandage/stitch up whumpee (which is a bit difficult given that they’re in a moving vehicle).

Waking up laying across the seats, caretaker glancing back at them in the mirror and sighing in relief. Whumpee does their best to sit up, immediately asking what happened.

Whumpee waking up delirious from fever or being drugged -not registering they’re in a car- and completely panicking at the feeling of the seatbelt restraining them.

Laying across the back seats, drifting in and out of consciousness. Maybe caretaker tries to keep them awake from the front seat, feeling helpless to do anything but talk, rambling worriedly as they glance between whumpee and the road.

Waking up as the car bumps over a pothole, crying out as their wounds are jostled. They don’t even register the half-frantic apologies from the front seat, too busy curling into themselves in pain.

Bonus points if it’s raining/storming, adding another layer of stress for the driver/caretaker to deal with.

[angst-art-writing]

April Fool’s Day is in a few days, and I just wanted to make this clear. This blog is safe, and I can promise you no screamers, nothing emotionally abusive, no fake posts, and nothing to intentionally trigger dissociation. You are safe here.

[angst-art-writing]

Last Straw

TW: torture, creepiness. Body horror. Bad Father-daughter relationship, female/minor whump

Inside a stolen car from one of their neighbors, Artemis and Jair sat in their seats, Artemis silent. By now, the adrenaline was wearing off and the burns were nothing more than a painful throb.

The sirens faded away as Jair sped off from their neighborhood, heading to the Reaper's base. With every turn that led them closer, claws dug further into her insides and twisted them around. Her hands were shaking, so she sat on them. But her whole body ended up shaking.

"I'm sorry," Jair mumbled. "I'm sorry."

Sure you are.

"I woke up and you were gone and.."

"You got mad?" Artemis didn't face him, just kept her eyes forward and her face blank. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her father nod. "Mmm." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "So what're we going to do about a new house? We just- left. What’s going to happen?”

He didn't answer her question. Instead, he said, "So... Really, this is all your fault."

"My fault? How?" That made her look at him, one eyebrow raising slowly. His eyebrows knit together. Artemis narrowed her eyes. "I didn't do anything-”

"You left," he grumbled. He glanced at her sideways. "If you had stayed in your room-”

She blocked out the rest of whatever came out of his mouth. This was normal, she should be used to it at this point. Spinning things and twisting them to blame her. Though, maybe he was right.. Part of her did feel responsible. If she had just done what she was told, none of this would have happened. If she had been more careful and been more aware, she would've never even met Paige.

She just didn't want to believe anything he said.

Artemis huffed and turned to stare out the window. She stared at the blurred shapes instead of her reflection, watching the lights shine brighter and brighter as they approached deeper into the center of the city.

Soon, they reached the Reapers base. They drove up to the wide, tall, white building. The white alone was enough to make Artemis feel sick. The gate opened for them and the car drove through, parking close to the entrance. Artemis hesitated before getting out of the car and shutting the door.

She immediately turned and went through the doors on her own before Jair said anything else. Get it over with. Face it.

A clean, chemical sense welcomed her as she made her way into the building. It made her vision blur and her head feel heavy, as if she wore a necklace made out of cement bricks around her neck.

She knew exactly where to go. Her room. She went through, her eyes passing over the glances other Reaper's gave her. One of the Reapers passing smiled woflishly at her as she made her way down the hall. “Ohhh, you’re back, hm?” He called. “Thought you might have finally kicked the bucket. Would’ve been a shame, considering I’m scheduled to face you soon.”

Artemis ignored him. She heard him snap something to her, but she just opened the door to the stairwell and climbed up the steps as fast as she could.

After a few flights of stairs, she reached the door to her room. She opened it and slipped inside, leaning against the doorway for just a moment.

It was a small room- White walls, white floors like everything else here. But her room didn't even contain a bed, or a window, or even a desk or a dresser. It was just a tattered blanket she had been rewarded after winning a battle in the arena ages ago. Besides that, nothing else. Not even her own weapons were inside.

Artemis turned and sat down against the wall, tilting her head back against the wall as she just tried to take deep breaths. Each exhale was a chore, her lungs aching and her throat tightening. The white walls were enough to make her panic, red splashes flashing across her vision.

"Good morning, Artemis."

She jumped. Vincent had stepped in, the door shutting behind him. His face was calm, and he had a polite smile on his face. For just a moment her dark eyes met his light ones, and gave her the sensation of icicles stabbing her.

"...Morning," Artemis mumbled in response. She watched him carefully. There were no external signs that he was angry with her but she knew he was.

"Do you want to tell me what happened the other night?” He didn’t give a shit she and Jair were caught in a fire. She knew what night he meant.

"No."

"Too bad. Explain, Artemis."

She sighed and looked down at her lap. "I.. I was doing my targets and the last one.. The last one was a trap." She fought to keep her voice steady, digging her nails into her palms. "S..He caught me. He got me."

He didn’t catch it. "Why didn't you just kill him?"

"It was hard to and I wasn't expecting it to be a trap. He took me to some apartment and I got away in the morning."

"Do you know why he tried to catch you?" Vincnet's voice was as cool as his eyes. He was like the ripples in the ocean, right before a giant wave came.

"No, sir.. But his name was Peter Fredrick." She glanced up at him. "That's all I know, I just wanted to get away." Under her hair, she felt her ears heat up and turn a bright red. “And where he lives, of course. That’s all. That’s all I had on my list-”

"Are you sure?" Vincent narrowed his eyes. “I gave you five targets that night, and five have been cleared. If this man was a target, he should have been killed. Before you left, I told you, you had five targets. If there was a sixth, you should have known.” His lip curled slightly but other than that his face remained a blank mask. “And even if it was a trap, he should have been killed, and you would have killed him. So, tell me, Aremis- Are you lying?”

Artemis stared at him for a second more. She shook her head. “No.”

He stepped forward, and her heart sank with just that step. He went toward her and knelt down, moving the hair away from ears. He scoffed irritably.

Shit.

No matter what, everytime she lied, her ears would turn red. It happened for as long as she could remember and each time she thought that he would just believe her one day, and wouldn’t question her. Apparently, this was not one of those days and God decided to be her worst fucking enemy.

"You're lying," he said calmly. His eyes narrowed and he stood back up, and Artemis stared down at his shoes. "So let's see... Lying," He counted on his fingers. "Stupidly getting caught, and missing curfew." He whistled slowly, shaking his head. "That's a lot, isn’t it?”

Artemis glanced up at him, catching the vein popping in his neck. He still looked calm as ever, though.

Before she even saw it, his boot slammed into her ribs, earning a yelp of pain. She doubled forward slightly and coughed, one hand moving to where he had striked. She closed her eyes for a moment, before his boot moved back and slammed forward again.

Again, same spot. But this time there was a crunching noise. She lifted her head, looking up at him. His face was dark and his eyes colder, looking down at her like she was nothing more than the dirt he walked on. His voice, however, did not match his face. It was still polite, oddly. But his voice grew sharper. "So, you better tell me the truth, or it's gonna be a hell of a lot worse.."

Artemis gasped and curled her body away. "You'll kill them-”

"Are they a friend or something? Why do you care?"

Because she was nice. She didn't respond, just merely shrugged her shoulders before wrapping her arms around her ribs to try and protect them from any more blows.

Another kick, but this one hitting her nose. Her head snapped back and she yelped, her eyes watering, feeling warm liquid dribble from her nose and down her chin, then the taste of metal in her mouth.

"Who are they, really?" He asked again, his tone more sharp. Losing patience, she thought.

"I don't know," she said. Part of that was true, at least.

"I want a NAME." He snarled, glaring at her, before kneeling down and seizing a fistful of her hair, yanking her head up painfully. She clenched her jaw, biting back any noise of pain, staring at him through a wavy wall of tears. “I know you know. I taught you better than this. So why? Why won't you tell me? You're defending a person you don't even know.”

She didn't answer. She herself didn't have one. With her silence, he suddenly slammed her head into the wall behind her and she yelped, shutting her eyes as pain shot from the back of her head. He let go of her hair harshly and moved his hand to some burnt skin he could see, poking out from the torn and burnt shirt she had. His hands were cold but the skin still prickled.

"Artemis, you're pissing me off," he sang sweetly. He changed so quickly, she could never keep up. She never knew what to expect, she could only expect some type of hurt. “You’re never like this. What’s so important about this, huh?”

Still, she said no words. She didn't want Paige caught. In fact, she hoped one day- Her team would work to overpower the Reapers. It seemed stupid, but she hoped for it nonetheless. It was a stupid hope, yet here she was- clinging to it. Any type of goodness she held onto like a lifeline.

Fingers dug into her red flesh, and she bit down on her tongue and tried to move away from the hand, but he grabbed her by the hair with his other hand, keeping her there. "I want an answer," he growled slowly, digging his nails in further with each word. "Now."

She bit down further and squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry out. She kept telling herself to stay quiet, to not tell him.

"You really want to play this game? Fine."

....

"Paige Neoma-”

Artemis gasped as Vincent let go of her throat and she fell to the floor, shaking.

Three hours. She had endured it for.. God, she didn’t even know. She coughed, tenderly touching her newly bruised throat. Her burns bled now. Vincent had made sure to cut into those.

He sighed and nudged her head up with his boot. "Now, was that so hard?"

She didn't respond, just closed her eyes. He knelt down by her, and sighed. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into an embrace. Her eyes watered behind her lids, and she remained tense.

"No, it wasn't," Vincent answered his own question. He brushed away sweaty hair from her face, pulling on it briefly when she flinched from his hand.

"Sorry," Artemis muttered to him, but in the next second he was gentle again. So tired. So fucking tired.

"Why do you make me do this?" He sighed. "Usually you're so cooperative, just have some habits to break.."

She opened her eyes a tad, just mumbling sorry again. She wanted to be left alone, to be..Home.

"Ah, well.. We still aren't done yet."

He picked up his bloody knife again, and Artemis stared at it. "But- I told you-"

"Yes. But you still lied, still defied me. You haven't paid for those yet. I just wanted a name out of you." He wiped the blood off, on her cheek, making sure to slice her face as he did so still. Her stomach dropped, and her eyes watered. She tried to move away, but he held onto her tighter, fingers digging into a wound. She cringed, but didn't stop trying to get away.

He pressed a button on the handle of the knife, and it started to heat up. She struggled still, but Vincent didn't loosen his hold. Soon, the blade was glowing red hot. She could only think back to her house, the burning of it and the trashed cigarettes. She continued to struggle, even as he began to carve into her back, carving the letter L. "It's your fault," he muttered to her, voice sweet still. "You did this to yourself, quit struggling.."

She cried out then, no longer able to lock back the sounds of pain, the scent of burning flesh filling her nose.

It was night when Vincent was done., More people had come in, carved more words into her skin and laughed at her while Vincent kept her from moving away. She felt the burning sting of the letters still. The one she hated the most was the word 'Champion' carved into her back. She hated the name, hated when they called her that. And here it was, all of those words marked into her flesh.

The door opened and Vincent stepped in, tossing her a first-aid kit, as well as a rag so she could wipe off her own blood from the walls and floor. Artemis sat up and stared at it, frowning. Before he could leave, she asked, hoarsely, "When are my dad and I getting a new house..?" She wanted to know when she could leave here. How long she would have to wait.

Vincent looked back at her, and he beamed wickedly. "This here is your new house."

She felt as if she had been stabbed again. No, this was worse. "What?"

"Your father and I agreed for you to simply live here. This will be your room, all the time. This is your home. How great is that?”

Anger. She felt anger boiling inside her."Home? This isn't-"

"Oh, but it is. Am I going to have to drill that into your skull, Artemis?" His eyebrow arched and he smiled wider. "So- Where's your home?"

She hesitated. But quickly answered when she saw his hand go for the knife on his belt. "H-Here. It's here.." Her mouth tasted sour with those words.

"Good." He turned again, and then slipped out of her room, and she was left there. She wanted to run, so bad- And now Paige would be in trouble, and it was her fault. Her fault for giving in, as she always had done.

She was exhausted.

So fucking exhausted.

[angst-art-writing]

Identity Reveals man

TW: close whumper.

Villain whumper, toying with whumpees mask, wondering how their eyes must look, musing aloud.

Whumpee glares furiously behind that mask, biting Whumpers hand when they get close, or head butting them.

Villain setting up their broadcast. They want to ruin their life.

Hero whumpee thrashing, the stoic facade gone, begging villain not to do this.

Hero whumpee jerking their head or trying to bite villain whumper when they get close. The villain whumper grabbing whumpee by the jaw, digging their nails in.

Hero whumpee has frustrated and furious tears streaming down their face, muttering pleas, begging. Villain whumper merely smiling, gently wiping the tears away before moving away the mask, then jerking whumpees face closer to the camera, turning their head every way for all to see.

Hero whumpee is devastated, and fearful. Now people close to the whumpee are in danger as well.

Alternatively; Villain whumper recognizing them. Dropping the mask and stepping back, knocking over the camera, all the blood draining from their face. Their voice dropping all malice as they whisper whumpees name.

[angst-art-writing]

Hey, can y’all rb this if it’s okay to send you messages asking about your ocs, cause on god I wanna interact with y’all but I am terrified of being annoying lol

[angst-art-writing]

Normally calm & stoic whumpee now broken, starving, thirsty, just begging to be let go / for the torture to stop…..lots of pleading…..

why hello anon 👀 💕 one very broken whumpee coming right up

implied torture, but nothing like...described

“Do you even know how beautiful you are when you cry?”

They don’t mean to. They never, ever meant to cry, not once, but now it seems it’s all they do.

And they know Caretaker would probably be embarrassed by them, if they saw Whumpee like this. Whumpee had promised them they’d be strong, always. They’d promised. They’d never been anything less.

But then...they hadn’t expected this to happen. They had never expected to be captured by the most cruel person they’ve ever known and hurt again and again and again until everything they were was gone and they’re not sure what’s left but...it’s not them anymore. It’s...it’s...

“Poor thing...poor, poor thing.”

Whumpee sniffles, wiping under their nose, trying to compose themselves, defiance flickering up in them at the taunting, but then Whumper comes closer, does nothing but step forward and Whumpee is sobbing again, uncontrollable, curling into themselves and shielding their head to try and protect themselves against whatever’s coming next.

It’s never good. It’s never anything good. It’s beatings and torture and pain and Whumpee can’t fucking take it anymore. No more, no more, no more...

“Oh, sweetheart…” Whumper purrs, crouching down and petting through Whumpee’s hair, always feigning comfort and kindness until they’re not. “What’s that? Hmm? What are you saying?”

“Nnn...nnn...no more,” Whumpee manages to whine out, and then can’t seem to stop the rest of the pleas from falling from their cracked lips. “Please...please! Please no more, please stop...please...please...I c-can’t, I just—I can’t—”

The hand tightens in their hair, tugging their head up, and Whumpee braces themselves for a blow.

Only it doesn’t come. Whumper just stares down at them, surveying the damage they’ve caused.

“God,” Whumper says, with too much pride in their voice. “Look what I’ve done to you. Look at yourself. If only your darling Caretaker could see you now. Do you think they’d be ashamed? Oh, of course they would be.”

“I want—" Whumpee gasps, and then cuts off, frightened.

Whumper strokes under their chin with their other hand, smirking. “Want what, sweetheart? Caretaker? You want them? Oh, I know. I know you do. You miss them terribly, don't you? But...you know they wouldn’t want you anymore, right? They wouldn’t want anything to do with you...not after what I’ve turned you into.”

Whumpee looks up at them, eyes wide and desperate, questioning without ever speaking aloud.

“Nothing,” Whumper says. “I’ve turned you into nothing, little Whumpee. There’s nothing left. Look at you. Shivering, begging at my feet, cowering...it’s…it’s…”

They laugh, and Whumpee flinches.

“It’s pathetic,” they finish, and it is. It is. But they’re so hungry and tired and cold and they still just want to go—

“Home,” Whumpee whispers, desperately, and then starts to cry again. “Please...please...please…”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Whumper says, bringing them into a far too tight hug, one that squeezes the air from Whumpee’s lungs and makes them squirm even knowing it’s hopeless.

“This is your home. This is the only place you’ll be again until you die.”

Whumpee doesn’t have the breath to respond, though they’re not sure what they would even say. Maybe something venomous, back in the beginning. Maybe a retort of how they’re wrong, because Caretaker is coming for them.

But Caretaker isn’t coming. Whumpee doesn’t know how long it’s been, but they’re sure of that, now. No one is coming for them.

They’re going to die here, suffering, and it hurts almost more than anything Whumper could physically do to them.

Almost.

Whumper releases them, tosses them back onto the dirty cellar floor. Whumpee gasps, and dares to look up at their captor.

And then Whumper brings out their knife from the holder on their belt, and smiles as Whumpee shrieks and scrambles into the corner, protecting themselves best they can when they know nothing is going to stop the pain that’s coming. It never does.

“Now, now...let’s see about helping you forget all those troubles on your mind…”

[angst-art-writing]

Whumpee being so greatful to doctor!Caretaker for healing them after everything Whumper has done to them and Caretaker telling them they're just here to prolong their suffering.

yo this one is ouch

caretaker is a doctor who works for whumper and is the one to clean whumpee up after each torture session and make sure whumpee doesn't die until whumper wants them to die

caretaker feels awful about it, that they have to come down to whumpee's cell every day and see the ragged and bloody state they've been left in, and to try and fix it but they can't fix it, there's no way they will ever be able to undo the damage that's been done, that will be done -- but they have to tell themselves that that's not their job, their job is just to make sure whumpee survives. whether they suffer or not (but there's never any real option. no matter what, they always suffer) is none of their concern

caretaker tries to be as gentle as possible despite their misgivings and reservations, wanting to offer as much comfort as they can even while guilt eats away at them because they aren't doing anything to help whumpee escape and are only there to prolong their suffering

caretaker thinks it would be kinder to let whumpee die, but they can see that whumpee doesn't want to, despite their situation

caretaker washes away the blood, day after day

they tenderly caress whumpee's face to wipe away the tears and blood on their cheeks

they stitch them carefully (even though they know the work will be undone anyway) and try not to cause too much pain, they know whumpee has had enough of it

and they bandage whumpee's wounds

whumpee thanks caretaker so earnestly, so genuinely grateful that caretaker feels bad, because this isn't really a kindness

caretaker tells whumpee that they aren't a good a person, that they were just instructed to make sure whumpee lived to suffer some more, but whumpee still looks at them with those big, teary eyes, because maybe they just want something to believe in. maybe they just wanna latch on to any kindness they can get

[angst-art-writing]

Fun ways to use your whumpees during parties:

Human Dartboard

Furniture/Ottomans for guests

Musical Entertainment (if your whumpee can sing or play an instrument, of course)

Drinking Games (interpret as you will)

Spin the bottle (let your guests take turns hitting or kissing whumpee if that's your jam)

Serving food and drinks (of course)

Portable coaster for hot/cold drinks

Free Dancing Partners

Eye Candy

[angst-art-writing]

Tired, smart caretaker doing their best to help stupid impulsive whumpee. Caretaker who is the only one who can calm whumpee down, who is scary when they're ACTUALLY angry, who would do anything to help whumpee. Caretaker who knows exactly what to do and learns fast to a whumpees behaviors. Caretaker who would go through hell and back to help whumpee.

Caretaker who is calm almost always, but their hands shake as they rinse off whumpees blood after caring for them. Protective and smart, and definitely Whumpers challenge.

I’m curious, what are your guys’ favorite type of caretaker? the nervous one who has no idea what they’re doing? the stoic one who seems a tad softer when theyre with whumpee? there’s so many archetypes! Which is your favorite?

[angst-art-writing]

Whumpees that have been broken, but you can’t tell that they’re broken.

Not at first, anyway.

Full of bravado, they snark and swagger. Their laughter is light, casual, and a bit devil-may-care. They make jokes and they act so proud, so confident, that you wouldn’t be able to see the deeply rooted self-loathing that slithers just beneath the skin. The insidious roots of past trauma that wind around their heart and memory, stealing the breath from their throat.

They put up a strong front, but when they’re alone at night they lie awake thinking of all the things they’ve been through. All the ways they’ve been broken. They can hide their scars, but they’ll never truly be free of them.

[angst-art-writing]

I'll Break Your Promise

"Did you hear about what happened?" Diana exclaimed as she came down the steps of the Pheme Inn, tying her blonde hair into a ponytail quickly.

The Peheme Inn was Melanie’s Inn. In the war against Victor it was a safe space for injured soldiers to get treated and for families to stay. Now it was Talyn and Iris’s home. Who were the daughters of Melanie and Diana. Adopted.

Down there, Talyn, Iris and Melanie sat at the table. Melanie glanced up and raised a brow at Diana's stressed and angry expression, setting down Diana's plate of toast with jam for her. "No... What?"

"Three of the thieves escaped last night," Diana huffed as she sat down. She picked up the toast and bit in with a loud crunch, then kept talking. "Three! Apparently, some of their buddies came and bailed them out last night.”

Talyn and Iris shared a tiny glance but kept eating silently.

Talyn resisted the urge to smile- It was satisfying to see this reaction from Diana. She was her mother, adopted mother, of course...But things had changed. Talyn grew up and wasn't so blind anymore. She could see the suffering in their world, suffering kept behind a thin veil that Diana and others like her refused to uncover. They thought that because they had killed Victor, an awful king against non-humans because of their 'impurity', was dead that all issues were fixed.

This wasn't some sort of fairytale; one King dying doesn't magically fix every issue.

"Seriously?" Talyn said to Diana, feigning surprise and anger. She lied so easily, so smoothly. She had learned to lie for a while now. "How? That’s horrible!”

"Damn guards let them go." Diana grumbled irritably. "Someone's getting kicked. And I'll have to tighten up the guarding. We can't have this happening ever again."

It was the first time Talyn and the team had gotten this much attention.

"The thieves also stole the merchant's horses. You know the merchant, Gerald? Three of his horses were gone this morning. I got a letter and he's pissed off."

Good, Talyn thought.

Melanie patted Diana's shoulder and sighed softly, before offering a tiny smile. "Well... They're long gone now, honey. You can only try and prevent it from happening again."

Diana huffed and shrugged her shoulders.

Iris spoke up next after she took a sip from her water. "And how are things with Eira and Lilura? I hear something brewing between them?"

Eira was the kingdom up North, allied with the Ascian forest, Where the werewolves and shapeshifters lived. Lilura was a mysterious kingdom. But allied with Veles, underground city of vampires and witches. Ascian and Veles had their differences, but Eira and Lilura were never so tense that people actually talked about it. It made Talyn feel uneasy.

"Nothing serious," Diana replied as Melanie rubbed Diana's shoulder. "We don't know what's got their hair in a bunch, but we won't intervene. I'm sure it'll sort itself out." She looked over to the window then. The sky was starting to shift into blue.

"Ah... People will be waking up soon. We better get moving-" Melanie moved away to begin preparing for the morning rush.

Talyn crunched the last bit of her toast.

"I'm going to the library today," Iris said. Talyn glanced at her as she picked up the finished plates. Iris's mouth twitched. She was lying. "Is that alright?"

Talyn knew exactly where she was going- To visit her lover, Icarus. Diana didn't like Icarus, and honestly? Neither did Talyn. He always got in the way of their plans. And he was always hanging around Iris like a pest.

"Of course!" Melanie smiled and nodded. "Talyn and I can hold up the Inn just fine, right?"

"Right," Talyn mumbled. Iris smiled apologetically. Talyn just looked away from her.

"I just don't know if I have the strength to hold her back when she picks a fight with one of the guys," Melanie joked. Talyn was known for wanting to argue about why bow and arrows were superior to a broadsword, challenging many guards and men that came into the Inn showing off their blades and flexing.

"Eh, she'll be fine. One day she'll get her teeth knocked in and she'll learn to keep her cool." Iris turned and grabbed her satchel, swinging it over her shoulder.

"If someone kicks me in the teeth I'll hit them where it actually counts and-”

"Bye, hon!" Melanie cut off Talyn and waved after Iris.

-------

The two lovers soon reached the meadow from their walk, soft green blades blowing softly in the wind as butterflies twirled around the flowers. There were few butterflies, orange colored ones- A clear sign of fall was on its journey.

Icarus turned and plopped down in the grass, dragging Iris down with him. He wrapped his arms around her as she leaned her back against his chest, smiling.

This is way better than scraping off food from the dishes, she thought. She felt a small twinge of guilt for not being there to help Talyn but ignored it. She would've stayed but...Icarus wanted her here.

"So, what'd you take me here for?" Iris asked.

"I have a gift for you." She heard him rustle around in the pockets of his trousers, before his freckled hands brought out a shiny object in front of her. A ring. "Here."

Iris carefully plucked the ring out from his fingers with surprise clear on her face. Her thought process momentarily stopped as she observed the ring closely, smiling wide.

It was silver, decorated with red gems.

She slipped it on- Feeling her cheeks flush as red as the ring. "Oh my... I love it!" The ring was big for her, but not wanting to upset Icarus- she said nothing and grinned gratefully. "Thank you, truly."

"It's a promise ring, to be specific. I promise that you'll never get rid of me." His arms wrapped around her tighter, and Iris leaned into his embrace trustingly and giggled.

"I like that promise," she murmured. She tilted her head up and kissed his chin gently.

"But trust me. I'd never try to get rid of you."

She could see the corner of his mouth turn into a playful smirk. "You better not."

----

That night, Talyn excused herself from her chores and gathered her stuff to go train at The Fort.

The Fort was a mountain- A special one. On the outside it looked like a mountain, but on the inside, it was a massive room, carved out from rock. There were many tunnels

Talyn and her friends would often go there to train with their weapons. They had to do so in secret because their guardians didn't want them to grow up with 'violence' as they once had. But not one of them wanted to live a humble life like the adults wanted them to.  None of them wanted to sit still.

Talyn ran down the trail she had memorized long ago, using a lantern to light up her way. The sun was sinking beneath the horizon, lighting the clouds up in an orange flame as night came to extinguish it.

She came forward at the Fort, pushing aside the vines that hid the entrance, slipping inside. Here, it felt like home. The walls and ceiling were tall, the floor smooth with little cracks. There were boulders around, and to a wall hung their personal weapons they used. Swords, bows, quivers full of arrows, small daggers that Talyn stole, short blades. And Iris’s weapon, which was not like a normal one. Before she trained with a sword but the first gift from her boyfriend had been a whip, a whip with jagged pieces of sharp blades. Iris had taken a liking to it immediately. No one could wield it like her.

Talyn waited for everyone else to show up, stretching out her arms. Clint and Will came in soon enough.

"Careful," Will said to Talyn as he began to stretch as well, smiling playfully. "Clint's extra moody today. He didn't get his beauty sleep."

"And apparently neither did you because you're still ugly as all of hell," Clint snapped back. Will smiled at him and Clint rolled his eyes.

Talyn shook her head, now tightening the laces to her boots. “You are moody.”

“Watch it.” Clint huffed.

"Ah, well. That just means he's easier to beat when we spar today." She smirked. Never had she ever lost to Clint in a sparring match. Never.

"Today I'll get you."

"Sure thing. Keep tellin' yourself that. It's nice to see people with hope."

Clint huffed sat down on a rock, doing the laces on his own boots as well. Will stretched his back out with multiple pops and an ugly groan, before he looked around and asked, "Iris hasn’t arrived here yet?"

"Nope." Talyn pulled the laces a little tighter then. "She went out with her new boyfriend, Icahbod."

"Isn't it Icarus?"

Talyn grunted.

Clint looked up after a moment, pulling his arms over his head. "What did Diana say about last night, though?”

"Ah, she was pissed today." Talyn looked up then.  "It was great. But- She is tightening up security. Bad news for us.”

"And that just means giving them more flashy swords and less rules for them to follow," Clint grumbled.

Talyn, as well as the rest, shared his frustration. The guards got away with everything and never spent a single night in a jail cell. She didn't want to imagine what they got away with when they were inside with the prisoners…

The vines rustled then, and Iris stepped through. "Hey!" She greeted, grinning widely. It was odd. She looked glowing.

Talyn stood up and smiled. "Hey, Iris!" Right after Iris stepped through, a red-haired boy followed. Ichabod. "And... Iris's friend."

"Boyfriend, actually," The boy corrected with a wink, throwing a casual arm around Iris's shoulders. "Iris said I could come watch you guys, she told me all about the training you do."

The three others shared a look. No one else knew about their training. Iris gave them a slight tilt of the head and an arched eyebrow, practically scolding them to be nice without any words. Diana had the same look.

She then looked at Icarus and smiled. "Do you want to spar with us?"

"No, no. " He shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal politely. "I'll just watch. I don't want to interfere with any plans you have." He moved away and sat down on a rock. "It's nice to meet you all, finally."

"Nice to meet you too!" Will said. Talyn and Clint grumbled in reply before Iris went over and discreetly pinched both their arms, in which they mumbled a more acceptable response.

Talyn felt... betrayed, in a sense. She let someone who they didn’t even know into a place so important to them? Why? Just because they stuck their tongues down each other's throats and called it love?

Talyn and Iris went to the wall where their weapons were, while Will struck up a conversation with Icarus. He always did that. Will would constantly talk to everyone he could. He was a summer boy, a warm radius all around him all the time. People always took a liking to him. Talyn took her bow off the wall, running her hand down it. Iris came over and stood next to her. Talyn looked at her and sighed."Why'd you let him in?" She muttered. "Why didn't you ask us first?"

Iris took her own whip off the wall.  "I thought it would be okay." At Talyn's scowl she added, "Do you really think I'd let someone who I didn't trust completely to come here? No. And besides, he's just watching."

"What if you break up and he gets mad? And he snitches on us?"

"C'mon Talyn. He wouldn't do that. And besides, he gave me a promise ring today." She smiled reassuringly, but the smile didn't do its job.

What the hell did a promise ring have to do with this? It only made Talyn frown, but Iris turned away anyway. "Alright c'mon! We'll start off simple today."

And so, they began- and Icarus just sat and watched. Observing.

-----

After training, windy whispers ruffled Clint's hair, blowing back the strands from his face as he and Will walked home. It was a long walk, especially when they took their time. The two always walked together, as Clint had been living with Will for a little less than a year now. They were walking through the town, tall buildings above them and clustered together.

"I want to join the Front," Clint blurted suddenly, breaking the quiet. He glanced sideways at Will, who had raised an eyebrow.

"The Front? Really?"

The Front was their army. No one knew much about them besides the fact they were heroes, born from some of the most valiant and brave soldiers that fought in the war against the Blood King, trained to be as tough as stone. " I want to be like them." He faced back forwards, his expression blank. "I want to do something good. Something that they do."

"But not all that they do is good, Clint. We hardly know anything about them-"

"What do you mean? They're heroes-"

"They're puppets."

Clint paused, right in an alleyway. The whispers of the wind turned into gentle murmurs. "Puppets?"

"I mean- They're just here for decoration. They hardly ever have to fight and everyone's too scared to ever provoke them. They only do things when someone tells them to. They're just to keep us behaved and good." He sighed and paused as well, turning to face Clint. "And their general, Pierce, looks absolutely out of his mind.."

"He's not out of his mind!" Clint scoffed, as if he himself had been offended. Part of him was. "He fought against the Blood King; he was second to Diana!"

Diana, their friends' mother, was the one to lead the rebellion against the blood king and was now heavily respected and feared. And now the one in charge of The Capitol. Really, she was a dictator. No one dared to say it out loud. After all, no one could repay her for what she did. She saved their world.

"And he's not the same, and neither is Diana. It's clea- Hey, what're yo-"

Clint had started walking forward, pausing to give Will a signal to shut his mouth. Will did so, and Clint turned around, pausing to watch what was going on around the corner. Usually, it was Will to be distracted so easily. With Will falling into silence voices could be heard.

Clint's eyes narrowed. Two guards were talking to a man, their heads tilted. He felt Will's breath on his neck, side-glancing him. His brown eyes were narrowed as well, watching the scene.

Clint turned his attention back towards the guards and listened.

"What're you doing out here, hm?" One of the guards asked, standing in front of the man. The other was behind the man, and he gulped before answering.

"I had to get some herbs for my kids, they're not doing so well..." His voice shook slightly.

"Oh?" The guard raised an eyebrow and moved in the way when the man tried to keep walking. "Well, you can't be out. There's a curfew now."

Curfew?

"There is? I haven't heard anything of it." The man looked as confused as Clint felt. There was no curfew.

"That's right," said the guard behind the man. "We're going to have to take you in for the night. As well as take this." He suddenly snatched the bag the man was carrying.

The man stared at him. He didn't even look angry or upset, more scared than anything.

"Please, sir. I need to go home and get this for my kids. I'll be sure to-"

The other guard just grabbed the man's arm and started walking. "Come on, now.”

"Please, I-"

The one behind him then just shoved him down. Clint felt himself going forward, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He glanced to Will again, who just shook his head and raised a finger to his lips. Will semeed to talk with his eyes. You have no armor. No sword.

Clint pursed his lips and turned to watch again.

"You can't resist arrest," barked the guard. The old man struggled to get up, assisted roughly by a hand yanking him up the collar of his shirt. They were heading to where Will and Clint were now, and Will turned, still holding onto Clint's arm and started walking away quickly, their footsteps hardly audible.

Clint followed, and with each step he placed walking away, his nails dug tighter into his fists.

Will led Clint to his house in silence, and only then he let go and paused, turning to him. "We need to tell Iris."

------

Fire crackling and the smell of warm food wavering through the air, the four sat at the table in the Inn and talked lowly under their breaths, disguised under other conversations of the best whiskey or the best swordsman in the latest tournament.

Clint and Will had just finished explaining what they had seen the night walking home, masked under the other conversations going on.

Iris's face was blank, her eyebrows arched. Talyn, on the other hand, wore her anger clear on her face and didn't even bother to hide it.

"Why didn't you guys intervene?" Talyn hissed when they had finished, leaning forward to the two of them. "You could have taken them!"

"We would've gotten caught; they'd have seen our faces-" Will started. Clint felt a pang of guilt, feeling his fingers twitch under the table.

"So, then you kill them!"

"Talyn," Iris said sharply, her eyes narrowing more. "We don't kill people."

"Why not? They do it all the time-"

"Because we will not stoop as low as them." Iris snapped again, her voice firm. “How stupid are you?”

Talyn stared, and Iris stared back before she sat back and crossed her arms with a huff. Talyn looked away from her again, clearly hurt.  Clint knew she hated when people called her stupid.

"The most we can do now," Iris continued, "is to try and get them back and free them." She sighed and rubbed her face slightly, looking grim.

Clint couldn't help but feel guilt for not intervening. He looked over to see Will's soft expression. Despite the blankness, he knew he was feeling the same way.

"How are we going to do that?" Clint muttered after a small silence; his eyes narrowed.

"The guards aren't going to be as lenient. They had them out patrolling where Will lives. No guard ever comes around there.”

Iris pursed her lips. "I'll come up with something. We have some other people we need to let loose anyways..." Her voice faded as her brow furrowed, thinking. "'Course, we can't do it all at once, last time was way too close...” She was thinking aloud, rubbing her forehead.

"I can go." Talyn piped up.

"No, you'll end up killing someone."

"I will not. Come on...I really want to go. I'm the quickest out of you all and the smallest. They won't catch me, ever."

Iris frowned more. "No. You're rash and reckless." She glanced away from her and looked at Clint and Will. Clint could see that Talyn’s face was red.

"You two will go,” Iris said finally. “I'll gather news about his …uh....trial over the next week."   Iris gave them a soft look, as if she knew they were feeling guilty. Clint gave an angry grunt and looked away.

Everyone knew that a ‘trial’ was merely a display of power.

[angst-art-writing]

The Edge

TW: executions, hanging.

The next day, Talyn and Iris prepped the Inn before dawn, none of their residents awake yet. Or the travelers had a;ready gone off. Diana came down from her room very early in the morning, dressed in a corset and a coat with intricate black designs on the trim. She usually wore it when something important was going on.

Talyn looked up from the glass she was cleaning and raised a brow. "What's going on?"

"Well," Diana said, cuffing the sleeves of the coat with a smile. "Today is important." Her tone was light, almost excited sounding.

Iris, who was wiping down some tables glanced over and raised a brow, Talyn caught the quizzical look she had shot at her.

"Is... Today someone's name-day or...?" Talyn asked, setting the glass down.

"No. We have executions set for today."

"Oh." Her heart hit the floor, traveling down from her chest to her toes. Then...That meant-

Iris was obviously thinking the same, because she then went on and asked, "Who's it for, exactly?" She looked genuinely curious, her tone calm.

Diana glanced up. "No one in particular. But our space is filling up, and we need to... Get rid of people. Before disease starts to spread." She sounded so sure, as if that was a perfectly fine reason. Talyn just felt sick.

"Well , did they get a trial? Anything?" Talyn pressed.

She glanced over and scoffed, looking at her as if she was a stupid child. "Only those whose families can afford a trial were kept in their cells. You know this, Talyn. Those who do not have the coin have clearly not put in the work to. And if they didn’t have it, they shouldn’t have committed a crime.”

Talyn tried to smile back as if she understood. "Right." She turned away and pretended to busy herself in organizing things that did not need to be. Her hands shook as she did so.

Of course, Only people who could afford a trial or had family could have one.

Talyn often heard people recounting how hard they worked for coin, scrounging up change to get a trial for their loved one. What was sad, was that the dirty jobs paid the most- And if you didn’t do the job right, you’d be trying to afford another trial.

Most times, that didn't even work, and the families went poor as the criminal was almost always found guilty with lies Diana's guards would make up. It was a vicious cycle. Survival of the fittest, that’s what Diana called it.

Talyn felt a hand ruffle the top of her head. She looked over and her eyes met Diana's dark ones.

Diana grinned at her. "You're going with me. Both of you! Let's see these bastards gain what they deserve, no? One day, I’ll be gone and you two will have to take my place.” She looked to Iris and squeezed her shoulder. “One of you, I mean.”

But Talyn's mind was already working, the gears in her head turning. She shook her head. "I…Won't be able to. I promised I'd tutor Will today." She glanced at Iris, who just stared back at her. Talyn had already decided on something, but there was no time to talk to Iris. She was worried Iris would call her out on her lie, since she knew Talyn never studied.

Diana frowned. "You can't cancel? It's important and I want you to come to one of these at least once."

"Afraid not. Sorry."

"Ah. Just Iris then. C'mon Iris, go get dressed up." Diana hugged her then and Talyn was forced into the embrace. She smelled of flowers. She made Talyn think of roses, thorns hidden under plump petals.

Iris gave Talyn yet another look. But she turned and headed up without another word.

Soon enough, both Diana and Iris had left.

And Talyn would soon, too.

Executions were usually held in The Circle, a round section in the middle of the Capitol in front of the building where important affairs occurred with outside countries. A crowd was already gathering, muttering and talking amongst themselves in anticipation.

An hour after Iris and Diana had gone, Talyn stood on a roof on one of the buildings that surrounded the circle. She was crouched down and had a dark hood covering her face, as well as hiding the quiver on her back. In the center of The Circle was a wooden platform, and a noose.

Some important people Talyn

recognized as Diana's workers and nobles  stood around, holding their children's hands. Talyn was stunned to see them there.

Did they really think it was alright to bring kids here? To see this false definition of justice? Diana encouraged kids to come as well. She said she wanted to shape a better future.

Talyn remembered being one of those kids- Watching people's heads drops and bodies go limo as their family members wept and sobbed. She would never forget those days.

Talyn glanced up toward the sky, focusing on the grey clouds that swirled above them. Yet, oddly enough, there was no wind. Perfect. Nothing natural would collide with her plan.

She glanced down and spotted Iris's purple head in the crowd. She was right to the side of the platform, where Diana now stood. Diana was speaking to the crowd with her hands folded neatly behind her back and her head held high, but Talyn couldn't register her words.

Blood rushed in her ears, and she could feel her eyes pulsing nervously in her head.  No one had done anything like this against her mother.

Diana pointed, and Talyn followed her finger. Some people dressed in rags were walking in a line led by her guards, their faces sallow and grim. They stared at the ground, just getting back up as the crowd by them shoved them as they walked onto the platform. The crowd were yelling at them, spitting at them. Talyn felt her shoulders tense, and she carefully slid her bow over her shoulder and gripped it tightly. She felt burning in her neck.

Another man came over, the executioner, dressed in all black. Talyn pursed her lips.

His name was Jarvis, and she had memories of him coming to visit the Inn when she was a kid, tossing her up in the air and chasing her around tables. The memory tasted sour and rotten when she thought back to it, like a moldy piece of fruit.

Talyn continued to watch underneath her hood, waiting.

Diana went and picked out a man, yanking him forward by the collar of his shirt. He staggered forward and fell to his knees onto the platform, before Jarvis yanked his head up and slipped the noose over his head, making it snug. Then, Diana announced his crimes. Theft, and whatever lies the guards made up. Talyn couldn’t hear. It was all just noise.

The old man kept his eyes down in shame. He said nothing, didn't fight. He seemed to have accepted it.

Talyn loaded her bow and stood slowly, aiming.  Everyone’s back was towards her. Her blood was like a waterfall in her ears, her veins buzzing- Though her hands remained steady as she loaded her bow with an arrow.

"Go ahead, Jarvis," Dianas voice boomed. She nodded her head to him in certainty and the man went and grabbed the other end of the rope. He pulled, and the man swung into the air while the crowd watched, murmurs falling silent.

No one said anything now. It was forbidden to. The only sound heard was the twitching of the rope strained with the weight of life. Even the wind had fallen hush.

Talyn had one shot.  One, clean, precise shot.

She took a deep breath, her eyes focusing on her target. The man squirmed now, and his gasps were louder than anything at that moment. Choking, desperate.

She drew the arrow back.

His mouth opened to bring in air.

She released, releasing a breath as well.

The arrow traveled through swiftly and struck, sailing through the air and slicing the rope cleanly. The man fell to his knees again and Jarvis crashed, rolling backwards off the platform. Everyone swiveled around, peering up at the archer.

Silence.

No one had ever acted out like this. No one had acted out against Diana, so publicly.

It was so silent, but Talyn’s frame upon that roof was screaming.

With satisfaction swelling inside her chest now, Talyn turned and hopped off the roof, slipping inside the back of a library right beside the roof she has been on. She took down her hood and placed her bow over her shoulder, the buzz louder than ever.

Diana was screaming now, people were jeering and gasping. Heavy footsteps of boots and swords being drawn rang out in the streets.

She peered out at the curtains, watching them go by in a frenzy.

She thought back to that moment, sinking down underneath the window, unable to push away Diana's shocked look. She laughed to silence the guilt she was beginning to feel. After all, Diana was her mother. Not by blood, but by choice.

Usually that was the best kind of mother someone could have.

Usually.

She wanted to rip her hair out and hug herself at the same time.  But she only stood there and let the rush of excitement and dread course along inside of her.

------

"What the hell was that, Talyn?"

Iris and Talyn stood in their training base, the only true place for some privacy now. Clint and Will were seated on the ground, and Talyn had just finished recalling the events of her stunt.

"I was proving a point-”

"No, you were making things worse!" Iris snapped at her, her eyes wide. "Don't you see what you've done?"

"I-"

Iris cut her off, and Talyn's neck grew hot as she was interrupted. Iris pressed on.

"Of course, you don't! Because you always act on impulse! You don't- think! You never do!"

Her words echoed against the walls and slammed back into Talyn as she processed them. She could feel hot tears form behind her eyes, but she fought to keep them contained. Suck it up, she told herself. Suck it up.

"Talyn, if anything- You made it all worse! You think just because you made some shitty metaphorical statement that they're going to stop the executions? No! They'll just be done privately instead of public! They still die and all you did was piss off Diana and make things more difficult!"

The words pushed against her, except these felt as if she had been stabbed with ice.

She hadn't... "Iris, I didn't-"

"When are you going to realize that you can't protect everyone? You can't be some sort of hero all on your own, damn you! Are you proud of yourself? They're still going to-"

"Iris. I think that's enough." It was Will who spoke, clearing his throat. His voice was soft still, as it always was. Never had anyone heard his voice rise, even when he was clearly angry. "There's no point in yelling."

Talyn clenched her fists and looked down at the floor. Iris huffed angrily. "You need to learn to not be so-"

"Enough. No more yelling." Will's voice was sharper there, and his next words were addressed to Talyn. "Talyn, you can't act on your own. What you did has consequences..." His voice became soft again, softer, and he sighed. "You need strategy, you need more opinions. We could have thought of something else."

"I didn't have time-"

"You could have spoken to Iris. She was there. She could have helped, in a way that wasn't so...destructive." There was a pause and he gave her a softer look she couldn’t quite decipher. "We don't work separately, Talyn. You can't pull stuff like that. Other than those people just...you know.. Diana's group is going to be more powerful in trying to catch the culprit, and then that'll permit them to arrest more innocent people already and blame people for nothing. This was huge.”

"I..I didn't think of that.." She would have preferred Iris yelling at her than Will right now. He sounded so disappointed. It hurt a lot worse than Iris being angry at her.

Clint hadn't said anything, but she imagined he was disappointed and angry too. She was glad he remained silent.

"Well, you need to start. This is what happens, Talyn." He sighed and looked around the room, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No training today, I think. Let's just go home, we won't get anything productive done if we're all upset. Iris, I'll walk with you."

Talyn watched them leave.  Iris shot one last glare at her, fuming, before she turned and headed out.

Clint got up slowly, picking up his coat and shrugging it on. "C'mon. You can stay at our place tonight." He said gruffly before he got up and turned to walk.

"Thanks.." Talyn swallowed back tears, turning and walking beside him. She was grateful he had offered; She didn't feel like sharing a room with Iris.

The walk to Will and Clint's house was a silent one. She wished he would speak, wished he'd say something. But Clint didn't and she was left to wonder at how angry he really was. He must've been angry. Usually he'd explode with frustration when he was upset, but this time he didn't.

By the time they went into the house, it was dark and quiet. Will's family was asleep, so Talyn just followed him up the stairs. He let her sleep in the bed, and he took the floor.

No matter how much she wished for sleep, it didn't come. She didn’t see Diana’s face now but rather the old man’s.

°°°

Iris went down into the Inn, pulling up a chair at a table. The place was mostly empty, even though it was open- Signaled by the lit lantern outside. Carina had just finished cleaning some of the glasses, when she looked up and smiled.

"Hey, Iris!”

Iris lifted her head and saw the girl with white hair, heading over to her table with two steaming mugs. She smiled at her softly and pulled up a chair, sitting across from her.

"Hey, Carina." Iris smiled a little at her. She took the mug from Carina and wrapped her hands around it. They had their meetings like this, at least once a week. "How are you liking this work?” Carina had been offered a job, after Iris had rescued her. Back when Iris would travel to the beaches at night she had always taken a liking to watching the ships. However, when one came in Iris had heard the sailors talk about their riches and when she went closer, found Carina trapped in a net. Carina was a mermaid- still was, only now she had learned to use her human form. Iris had rescued her from the sailors after hearing talk of them skinning her scales, and carried Carina all the way back to safety.

There,Carina told her she had been cast out from Nerin, the underwater kingdom everyone knew so little about, and had ended up here.

Iris then helped Carina start a new life in the capital. And now, she had finally stopped working on gardens to work in the Inn.

Carina shook her head slightly, speaking after she had taken a sip. "Oh, it's wonderful. Cozy, lots of people. I'm learning so much." "That's good, then! I'm glad you're enjoying the new job. Better than the gardens?"

"Ah, that's hard to say. I like both." She smiled again. "But how are you? I heard about what happened yesterday. That's just... wow."

Iris glanced up at her, looking down and frowning slightly. Carina knew of what they did, Stealing, helping innocents escape. She hadn't said a word.  She would never do that, she owed a lot to them anyways. "It... was insane. It was also Talyn," she murmured quietly, speaking into her mug.

Carina stared at her for a moment, her eyes widening. "Seriously? Taly- Actually, not that surprised.They're looking everywhere for her, though. Not her, really- But..."

"Yeah, yeah. My mom's been going absolutely insane. She's furious."

"Oh, dear..." Carina sighed softly, before the door rang with the chime of a bell, and a familiar red-haired boy came in.

"Icarus!" Iris said, and she smiled. He beamed back at her and headed over.

"Hey!" He said, planting a small kiss on her cheek, and Carina glanced away for a second and downed the rest of her tea. He waved politely to Carina, and she nodded her head and mumbled a hello.

"I wanted to see if you wanted to take a walk?" He said to Iris. Carina waited for a moment, and Iris nodded eagerly. "That's okay, right?"

"Yeah! I mean- Carina?" She tilted her head, asking as if she was merely a second thought. And she was.

Carina bit her lip slightly. "I uh... Well, Iris you just got here-"

"I'm sorry, but you know... Don't get to see Icarus that much. I'll come back in a couple hours, okay? Have our tea ready then?" Iris asked her.

"No, no, go ahead. I should get back anyways. You two have fun. We can talk later, okay?" She picked up the mugs, nodded a goodbye to them and turned as the couple headed out.

Iris saw her dump the cups before Icarus took her hand and led her away.

----

“.... And then she just goes and does whatever she wants, and she doesn't even pick up after herself!" Iris huffed, glad to release some of the tension as she and Icarus walked down the shore of a nearby stream. "She doesn't even ask us, especially with something so important- Doesn't even realize how destructive it is!" She tossed a rock into the water and watched it splash.

Enough. She could feel the intricate lightning patterns begin to prickle on the backs of her hands. She needed to take a deep breath.

"I can see how frustrating that would be," Icarus replied, his tone gentle. His voice calmed Iris down, and he slipped an arm around her shoulder, as always. And as always, she leaned into him. It was like magic, the way she calmed- A good magic. Different from her own.

"It's very frustrating. She never listens, never thinks. God, sometimes she's so- stupid." She regretted it immediately as she said it, but it just came out. She frowned. "I... Shouldn't "have said that. I don't mean it."

"I think you do."

She turned to look up at him, surprised. "What? No, that's awful of me to even say-"

"Come now. It's okay." He smiled a little again. "I mean, all of that is pretty...dumb. When you think about it. Which she didn't."

"Hey-"

"It is stupid, Iris. You just said so. We're merely stating the obvious, dear. Your sister can't rely on just impulsiveness." He steered them around a rock as they walked. "One day, it might get her hurt. Might get you all hurt."

He was right. Really, he was. Talyn’s impulsiveness would be her downfall.  She just shook her head and sighed. "Yeah... I just feel apart from her, I hope it goes away. I don't like being angry at her."

Icarus rubbed her arm with his thumb. "You two will be fine, I'm sure. It'll pass."

Her hands were still prickled, and she looked down at them. She sighed softly and glared down at the faint scars. "Man... I hate these things."

Icarus looked down at them. "You should wear gloves for them. I can get you some."

"Really? Thank you." Iris relaxed into him, sticking her hands into her pockets.

[angst-art-writing]

Burn It Down

TW: Abusive father, addictive substances(drinking, smoking.), fire, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, reference to abuse/torture.

"What do you mean she's gone?"

"I mean exactly what I said! She's gone! Vanished! Out of sight! Do you need more synonyms, dumbass?"

Artemis listened to the voices from below the window she had just slipped out of, recognizing only Tobias's. The other was unfamiliar, but male it sounded. He had been the one to call Tobias a dumbass; Dude must have some big balls.

Artemis set her bow over her shoulder as she began to walk, all while trying to control the shakiness of her hands. She still listened to the two’s conversation.

"How long ago did she leave?" Tobias was asking.

"I don't know, hours? She's long gone-"

Nope, ten minutes.

"Did you check the cameras?"

"We don't HAVE cameras!"

"We should really get on…”

Their voices faded away completely as Artemis headed away from the large building. She found that the room she had been in was underground, an abandoned lab from who knows how long ago.

She exhaled slowly and turned, sticking to the shadows. If anyone asked her about her outfit she could just play it off as a crummy costume from some convention. No one outside of the Reapers would recognize it anyways. Besides, only people who absolutely had to be out were out this early in this city. It was a strict rule to keep your eyes ahead and away from others if you wanted to avoid trouble.

With every step she made down the route to her house, her feet felt heavier and chills shook her whole body, despite the night hardly being cold. She flexed her fingers anxiously. The sun had begun to set already; She was way past curfew. She tried not to think about the consequences she’d be forced to face.

Artemis exited out of the main part of the city, dwelling into the darker parts of it. The parts no one cared about. Shiny windows decorated with plants became guarded with wood and tattered curtains, green lawns turning yellow and shiny toys outside turning into broken, dull ones. There were not many people outside, just people smoking and drinking out in their porches as usual. A thick scent of smoke coated the air. So thick that you could taste it.

Artemis turned on her street, pausing in front of her house. It was old, two-story and decaying. Old broken toys and tools were to one side in a pile, the grass yellowing and dry. An old rocking chair with peeling paint sat still on the porch. One of the windows was cracked and had been ‘fixed’ with wood plastered onto the cracks.

Artemis dug her nails into her palms, sighing shakily as she stepped over the peeling painted gate and headed up to the door, stepping on the old cigarettes littered on the porch. She frowned, pushing away memories of being used as an ashtray, pushing away the faint sting of the burns. She still had the little circular scars.

The door opened with a squeak as she slipped in, shutting the door as quietly as possible. If she was lucky, her father would be asleep still-

"Artemis."

Nope. No luck. There never was good luck, but one could only hope. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

The gruff voice came from the living room. Artemis slowly turned and walked over, standing in the doorway. Jair, her father, sat on the couch- staring at the TV. Artemis didn't look at him either and instead focused on the bottles and cans around, amongst other trash. Her foot tapped quietly on the sticky wood tiles.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She could hear the faint anger in his voice.

Artemis struggled to answer. She just stared down- staring without really seeing.

His voice rose.

"Well?"

"I.." She swallowed and forced the words out, making sure not to stutter. "I got caught. They tampered with my list, and I was caught in a trap."

"Who is this 'they'?"

"They're.. Pa..Peter Fredrick. Peter Fredrick." The lie rolled off her tongue before she could even stop it. She could feel her ears heat up underneath her hair- A dead giveaway that she was lying. Why was she even protecting Paige? She didn't have an answer for herself, just that it felt...

"'Peter Fredrick'," Jair repeated. He finally looked at her, dark eyes glaring. Artemis glanced up and merely nodded. He got to his feet slowly, shaking his head. His eyes were red. "You're still late. You missed curfew. We sent people out to look for you. And you made me, and Vincent, look bad. We stayed up late looking for your sorry ass.”

Artemis looked down at the floor, frozen to the spot. She could hear him moving closer but she didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry doesn’t cut it!" He shouted. And right at the end of that sentence a bottle came down upon Artemis's head, shattering. She yelped and crumpled right to the floor, a hand moving her head before a boot slammed into her side- Sending her back into the hallway.

The floor darkened as Jair's shadow loomed over Artemis. Artemis sat there and took it. It was better than trying to reason. It was easier than trying to explain yourself to someone who wouldn’t listen.

----

"Tomorrow morning we're going to the base,” Jair had told her when he was done seething. Then he sat his ass back on the couch and stared blankly at the Tv again, as if nothing had ever happened.

Artemis had snuck out later that night. It was risky, of course. Very risky- especially when he was pissed at her. But she just wanted to clear her head. Desperately, she wanted to return back to the warehouse, for the first time in forever, but Paige was going to be there. Not worth getting caught again.

She dreaded going to the base tomorrow. Jair was bad, yes. But Vincent wasn't drunk and he didn't swallow all his anger away with a bottle and then explode, no. Vincent let it sit, took it out on her and what was worse? He grew to know her. He knew exactly how to get to her, exactly what made her shake and cower. He was so unpredictable, so knowledgeable.

Artemis had ended up a few blocks away with the hoodie of her jacket pulled over her head. She was sitting on someone else's roof, her back turned to where her house was. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but she only saw Vincent’s pale eyes.

She wrapped her arms around her torso, barely even noticing her nails digging into herself. Her eyes opened after a second and she saw the ground. She was right on the edge. She didn’t know how long she had been there, just that it was a while. She continued to stare at the ground.

What would happen if she...Accidentally slipped? Hit her head a little too hard..?

She shook her head. She wasn't going to let a rich man outlive her- And she wasn't going to be a reaper forever. Right? A bitter taste filled her mouth and she let that hope die right away. Where else would she go? They would search for her until they found her, and then they’d drag her right back. Vincent’s eyes appeared when she closed hers again. The image of Vincent's blue eyes was replaced by Paige's. She pursed her lips and then hugged her knees to her chest. What would've happened if she had accepted their offer..? But also, what if it was merely a trick?

"Woah, do you see that?"

Her thoughts were interrupted by the voices down below. She looked to the side and saw two teenagers on a sidewalk, pointing in the direction her back faced.

"Holy shit, is that a fire?"

Fire?

Artemis turned and looked. Her blood turned to ice under her skin.

She got to her feet quickly, her eyes locked on the growing orange glow-her house- Burning in the middle of the night. She then turned and jumped down the roof carefully, sprinting towards the house. She was ten minutes away, but every second counted right now. Dad’s in there.

How did I not notice? How did I miss the smoke? How could I have been so stupid, so fucking stupid- To leave Jair ALONE-

Her boots pounded against the sidewalk as she ran towards her house. In no time, she was there. People were gathered around, peering from their porches and behind their fences. She heard someone say they had called an ambulance, but they'd never be here in time, she knew.

She turned to someone nearby, a neighbor. "Is he still in there? My dad?" She questioned, voice high with fear and uncertainty.

"Yeah-"

Once it was confirmed Artemis ran past their gate and directly into her house before anyone could say anything, directly into the flaming house. She had felt someone grab her arm but she tugged away harshly and went in.

Immediately she was greeted with a powerful wave of heat and smoke, making her eyes water and her nose scrunch. She moved her elbow over her nose, the orange flames licking at her and her vision as she quickly moved through. She took big steps quickly.

"Dad!" She called, her voice muffled by the crackling noise and her own elbow. She shot a glance towards the living room. Nothing. The kitchen- Nothing. The heat turned everything into waves.

Lungs starting to ache and stomach twisting she made her way up the stairs. She went quickly. The ceiling groaned above her and the stairs threatened to split underneath her feet, amidst all the crackling of the flames.

"Dad!" He’s all I have.

She wondered if he could even hear her, or maybe he had ran off already and no one had seen. Her vision was blurred with her own tears as she went for the first door upstairs, his room. She reached for the handle and turned it; Not even minding the sting it sent shooting up her fingers.

"Dad! What're you-" There he was, just in the room. His figure was wavy and danced with the flames, his back facing her. He looked lifeless amongst the live flames. Artemis went forward and then grabbed his arm. No use in asking now, she just needed to get out. Fast.

She heard him tell her something but the roar of the flames grew louder and turned his voice into nothing more than a muffle sound as she hurriedly pulled him out, heading back down the stairs with him. There was the splintering noise of wood as she took another step and she shrieked, her foot sinking down and scraping against the sharp pieces of wood.

Surprisingly, she felt Jair grab her arm in a strong hold and pull her up, skin scraping against the wood yet again. Clenching her jaw and holding her father's arm tighter, she jumped down and began to head back the way she came, but it was hardly recognizable. It was all orange and brighter than before.

All that she could see were big pieces of wood hugged by flames, spiraling and twisting. It was a walk straight into an oven.

Back door.

Turning she led her father through the kitchen quickly, forcing open the back door and into the backyard. The flames had not reached that part, but the heat did. She ran through, past the gate and didn't stop until she no longer felt the intense heat. They paused at a corner of a sidewalk, catching their breath and coughing.

Artemis cast a glance at her father. His arm was red, burned. Artemis wanted to collapse but she held herself upright. Tears streamed down her face and she shook violently. She turned away from their house. The heat of it stung on her arms as if it was still clinging to her. Jair hadn’t said anything.

Her father moved closer, and she didn't move away. He hugged her, but Artemis still felt nothing. She couldn't. She could hear blood rushing in her ears and her heart pounding rapidly still. The fire still cracked behind them and the smell of smoke wouldn’t leave her nose. She fell to her knees and rubbed her eyes.

Jair stepped closer and she sensed him kneeling down with her. She felt his arms wrap around her then, pulling her into an embrace. She wanted to lean into him, relieved they had gotten out alive. But still, she couldn’t find it inside of her to do so. So she just sat there in silence.

"I'm sorry," he said, and all she could do smell was the sour alcohol on his breath.