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thinking1bee · 5 months ago

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You Haven't Failed Part 12

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Tags: Spidey!Reader, Venom!Reader, So Much Angst, Fluff, Established Relationship, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut

Everything Taglist: @ara-a-bird @alexawynters @sgm616

“Go, go, go!” Wanda screamed at Tony, urging him to go get help.

He tried to call multiple people, but so far, no one picked up. It was late at night, so it was natural that the Avengers slept with their phones off or silenced, and only a different kind of alarm could wake them up. That one would have to be activated by Fury. Venom snarled as Wanda tried to fight it back with her magic. Red wrapped around its body, but it was broken by a flap of its wings as it still charged towards them. Tony shot it with his repulsors. When Venom still didn’t slow down, he activated a panel in his back. Out of it came a gauntlet full of mini missiles.

“Sorry, kid,” he said sadly as he fired. The projectiles exploded on contact, and the alien screeched as its body warped around the blasts.

“Three minutes,” Tony promised as he looked at Wanda. She nodded and watched as he took off, his form disappearing into the compound in the distance.

She turned her attention back to you, to Venom. It stood up and rolled its shoulders. Smoke wafted from its body, but there wasn’t a scratch on it.

“Come on, Y/n!” she begged. “Fight it!”

Venom only laughed maliciously. “You have no idea how weak they were,” he began. Wanda clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing furiously. “It was so easy to take them over. Their desperation. Their despair. They were drowning in it, and you were none the wiser!”

That made Wanda falter, her eyes widening at Venom’s words. She remembered what Osborn said to her. The symbiote feeds off the emotions of its host to bend them to its will. Is that what you harbored?

Venom cackled. “Love,” it spat, like the word itself was a disgusting thing to be uttered. “Such a useless human emotion. So weak. So distracting. It was almost too easy. Their love for you and their desire to never lose you again reeked of petty sentiment, but it was easy to use that against them, to let me take them over.”

Wanda thought back to the night you almost beat that prisoner to death, and the conversation that she had with you after. She remembered you telling her how it felt like you just got her back, even though she had been revived for years now. She thought that she understood, but maybe she didn’t comprehend just how deep this went for you. In all the times that she’s read your mind, not once did she see anything alluding to what Venom was saying. So, you either repressed this, or you hid it from her.

“детка…” she whispered sadly to herself.

“Did you know that they blamed themselves for your death?” Venom continued. Somehow, the monster managed to look incredulous, a nonexistent eyebrow quirking with disbelief at what it was about to say. “Their memories are interesting to say the least. There are fragments missing, holes where their memory had been too feeble to recall what happened to them. They harbor such great hate for themselves because of something that they were too weak to prevent. They genuinely thought that they could stop this Thanos.” It paused as it cackled. “Pathetic.”

Wanda couldn’t fight the tears that were gathering in her eyes. When she came back, the team had warned her of the changes in you and she didn’t think too much of it. It wasn’t like she didn’t care because Wanda cared about you and for you greatly. It was that everyone went through changes after the initial loss to Thanos. No one was the same. Even her. In her mind, she was going to accept you no matter what. The thing was that you were your usual self with the same sunny disposition that she fell in love with. When she came back, you had been protective at first, extremely protective, but she understood. If it had been you, Wanda wouldn’t have let you out of her sight and she reassured you as many times as it took to make you believe that she wasn’t going anywhere. Yes, there were changes, and she prepared herself to face them with you, but she didn’t know of your emotional turmoil. Hearing it was breaking her heart but hearing it from the symbiote made her feel as though she wasn’t attentive enough towards you. You hardly spoke about what happened after the snap, and while she did ask, you only told her that you couldn’t remember. Wanda didn’t want to pry, and she respected your answer all the same, but to know this was how you felt…hot tears trailed down her cheeks.

She needed to get you free from this thing.

Wanda wiped her eyes and took a steadying breath. She must control her emotions. She watched as the magic in her palms fluctuated wildly and she willed the energy inside of her to calm. There was a fine line, and crossing it meant accidently killing you. When Venom saw her ready herself, it cackled some more.

“Removing them from me at this point will kill them.”

Wanda shrugged. She knew what Osborn said. “They’re dead either way. If they stay there, they’re dead. If I remove them, they’re dead. At least with them removed, you won’t have a body to puppeteer.”

At that, Venom bristled, the smile slowly leaving its face. They said nothing more to each other, and Wanda watched Venom closely for any signs of movement. When she saw its wing twitch, she extended her arms, and with a yell of exertion, shot a thick column of red magic its way. It was wide, with the attack taking up the entire street. It wouldn’t be able to dodge it in time, so Venom used its wings as a protective shield. They folded in front of its body and flattened just as Wanda’s attack hit. Her red magic cut through, and Venom screeched in pain as her energy seared its black flesh. When the dust settled, she saw that Venom was still standing with half of its body missing, but what should have been empty space and scorched tissue were your limbs. Wanda could see your arm and leg right as Venom began to cover it in its own flesh, the damage healing as it regenerated. You weren’t gone yet and that was great news.

A loud crack of thunder made her jump, and she watched as Venom was struck by a thick bolt of lightning. Thor landed right beside her with a grunt. Tiny crackles of electricity surrounded his body as his eyes glowed a deep blue. He stood up with his Stormbreaker in his hands, but other than that, he donned nothing else besides a pair of boxers that said “Thunder” on one ass cheek and “Daddy” on the other. Wanda stared at him, her arms lowering.

“There was no time for clothes, Lady Wanda,” he said valiantly. “We need to get Y/n back.”

Wanda nodded and watched as Tony landed beside her.

“Was there only Thor?” Wanda asked him and Tony shook his head.

Right on cue, everyone heard a roar, and seconds later, a flash of green passed her peripheral vision before it landed on top of Venom. Bruce. He was quick as he snatched the alien by its ankle and smashed it repeatedly into the ground. Venom snarled, its arms flailing as it was smashed into the street hard enough to leave craters behind.

“Everyone is gone or out,” Tony told her. It was okay. They could do this together.

Venom began to stretch, its body thinning as it wrapped itself around Bruce’s arm. Bruce roared, but Venom was faster. It reached out with the top half of its body and dug its arms into the street to anchor itself. Then, it twisted, and Wanda watched as Bruce was momentarily handled like a rag doll. Venom was able to throw him several feet away, and everyone had to dodge his body before they were crushed. Venom spread its wings and screeched before it took to the skies. Tony, Wanda, and Thor followed it as they continued to fight. Tony kept shooting it with the small armory that his Iron-Man suit was modified with. Thor shot more arcs of lightning. Wanda used her magic, but she realized relatively quickly that their efforts weren’t getting them anywhere. Venom was absorbing their attacks and healing any damage made. Tony realized it too when he joined their side.

“Wanda, I don’t have any more of those devices or else we could use the sound to incapacitate this damn thing.”

Wanda took a deep breath and looked at him. “Get Venom to the ground. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Tony nodded and left her side. He shot more blasts while Thor struck Venom with more lightning, but ultimately, it was Bruce that was able to get to the symbiote. He jumped into the air and snatched Venom right out of the sky. His hands crushed its wings, and Venom shrieked in pain as it thrashed in his grip. Brice twirled in the air to gain momentum before he threw Venom as hard as he could towards the ground. It shocked Wanda to hear a boom in the air, the sound barrier breaking before the ground cratered and quaked from the force of impact. Venom was slower to recover from this attack. Wanda watched as it tried to crawl from out of the crater only to collapse a second later. She took that as her chance, her fingers fluttering as red magic wrapped around the body it stole. She forced Venom upright and to its knees, and she restrained its arms to the street just slightly behind it, a thick column of red around the appendages. It tried to struggle but Wanda wasn’t going to let it go again. She regarded it with extreme fury in her eyes, the red shining brighter in them than anyone had ever seen before. She approached, her hand clenched into a fist, and as she got closer, Venom laughed.

“You won’t kill me, not with Y/n’s life on the line. Be reasonable,” it challenged. It continued to laugh, but that laughter died as Wanda conjured a very large, translucent bell. It was outlined in red from her magic, and it hovered just right beside her open hand as it rippled with power.

All Wanda needed to know was the volume and frequency of the noise she would need to create, and she now knew it because of Tony. Venom now looked at her nervously, its gaze shifting between her and the bell. She didn’t say anything at first. Her face was hardened into stone as she stared with steely eyes.

“Killing you is a mercy you cannot afford. You will realize, within the next few minutes, that what happens next, is me being reasonable,” she murmured in an unyielding voice.

Before Venom could retort, Wanda waved her hand, and the bell began to ring. The reaction was immediate. Venom screeched, and like last time, its body contorted in an effort to get away. Wanda tightened the restraints around its body as she continued to ring the bell. It swung from side to side heavily, just like a real one. The sound it emitted was loud enough to hurt her own ears, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t hear your voice, and she couldn’t see your pain, therefore, there was no reason to hold back.

“Come on, Y/n!” she yelled. She watched emotionlessly as Venom writhed, but despite the pain it felt, it was still able to speak.

“It’s too late!” it managed to spit out. “You’ve already lost them!”

Wanda faltered for a heartbeat, its words making her waver, but in that split moment, she understood. She was going about this the wrong way. So, as she kept ringing the bell, she changed tactics.

“You’re going to lose me, Y/n!” she screamed, the bell ringing louder and louder. “If you don’t fight, you’re going to lose me! You need to wake up!”

Tony, Thor, and Bruce all watched, their faces solemn and sad when they didn’t see any changes.

“Y/n, детка! I know you can hear me! If you don’t do anything, baby, you’re going to lose me! You’re going to lose us!”

Venom was already screeching in agony, but Wanda watched as its mouth began to open impossibly wider. It was like something unhinged its jaw, and half of its head began to unravel, the black tissue falling away to reveal a part of your face. Wanda watched with bated breath as you weakly opened your eye, and you looked around before your blurry gaze fell on her.

“Baby.” This was much quieter, gentler. “Please,” she begged, her bright red eyes filling with tears that spilled over. “Fight it.”

Instantly, your face crumbled, and a tired sob left your lips. “I can’t. I can’t.”

If Wanda thought you pale before, you looked ghostly now. “Let me help you, детка.” She wrapped more magic around Venom to keep it right where it was. “Let me in.”

More cries left you as you felt Wanda cup your cheek with a strong hand, her forehead leaning against yours as you felt her in your mind. You let her in. You let her see the parts of you that you never wanted her to see.

Part 13

#ladies of marvel #the avengers #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #reader insert #x reader #fem!reader #spidey!reader #venom!reader #graphic depictions of injuries #graphic depictions of violence #angst #so much angst #fluff #smut #violence #blood #feelings #lgbtqia

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justcallme-ange · 1 year ago

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Another round of sketches. I’m gonna put this one under a cut cuz it’s a little more graphic than my other ones, so don’t wanna accidentally startle anyone while they’re scrolling.

More c!Dream prison stuff. I may have roughed him up a little…. It’s okay though! Techno’s there - so Dream’s not totally alone

See he’s all good now wrapped up in Techno’s cape!

#I’ll have some fluff next I promise!#cdream #ctechno #dreamwastaken #technoblade #rivals duo #rivalsduo #cw: gore #cw torture #graphic depictions of violence #my art

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acourtofladydeath · 3 months ago

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SJM Villain Week '24 Day 4: Behind Closed Doors

When Adriana agreed to marry the youngest Vanserra brother, she had no idea what she was getting herself into... How will she and Beron survive the initiation when his family wants to break them?

In this fourth installment of "To Become A Vanserra," we see a glimpse of where it all began. How was Beron changed behind the closed doors of his own ritual? It's time to find out for @sjmvillainweek day 4.

Thank you to @secret-third-thing, @jules-writes-stories, and @climbthemountain2020 for being my hype women. Thank you to @pippsmcgee for being my beta!

This fic involves rape/non-con, coerced sexual acts, and descriptions of graphic violence. Read a snippet below, or the full fic on AO3!

Twisting her hands in the folds of her simple dress, Adriana stared down at the intricate gown laid before her, golden vines embroidered across the deep maroon velvet. The colors were gorgeous, if not slightly off-putting. Adriana hated wearing red of any shade. A trail of blood careened through her memories, never too far from her mind. She was often able to remove the murder of her father from her mind, but only if she could avoid the color red. This marriage was her chance to support her family, to take some of the load off her grieving mother and sisters. Pushing the memory aside, Adriana ran her hand across the smooth fabric, her fingers along the raised thread as it trailed delicately along the lines that most accentuated her body. She stopped at the high collar, feeling the cuff that would surround her throat like a restraint. “This seems a bit formal for lunch, does it not?” Adriana’s words were directed at no one in particular. There were so many servants in the room Mrs. Vanserra had directed her toward that she figured one would know the answer. “Tis what the High Lord picked for you, m’lady,” the youngest girl said, her voice soft and slightly hesitant. But Adriana noticed a pair of older servants by the vanity share a look, one that sent apprehension shuddering down her spine. One of the older servants, a stern woman with her apron tied tightly and an even tighter bun gestured for Adriana to come over. “Sit, girl, we haven’t got all day, and your hair just won’t do.” Adriana’s hands tentatively touched her hair, the flowing curls she’d tirelessly done herself the night before still soft and voluminous. “What’s wrong with my hair?” “The better question is what’s not wrong, dearie. No matter, you’ll learn the expectations in time,” the other servant by the vanity added, her hair braided and piled at the base of her neck. “Come sit so we can fix you.”

Finish the fic on AO3.

Please let me know if you'd like on or off the taglist! @pippsmcgee, @born-to-riot, @chunkypossum, @bubybubsters, @queercontrarian, @yanny-77, @fieldofdaisiies, @iftheshoef1tz, @secret-third-thing, @jules-writes-stories, @the-darkestminds, @climbthemountain2020, @amalhe-kofee, @molcat07, @nocasdatsgay

#beron vanserra #lady of autumn #beron X LoA #vanserra family #autumn court #LD writes #LD TBAV #LD BoaE #acotar fanfic #acotar smut #acotar #acowar #acosf #azris #sjmvillainweek #graphic depictions of violence #non con #read the tags people

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natyoboi · 1 month ago

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unpopular opinion

Country bear jimboree does not deserve the gun

He should be thrown off the airlock and experience his lungs exploding

Y’know. Like the hit game Among Us.

Don’t mind me I’m just being a hater lmao. Getting into Mouthwashing recently as you can tell by my reblogs.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #jimmy mouthwashing #tw death #probably #graphic depictions of violence

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b0amagination · 3 months ago

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Tastes of Whumptober: Day 4

Content Warnings: Mild gore (descriptions of blood), Needles (into a port, not hypodermic), IV port, Lab whump. All under the cut out of caution!

Sensory Deprivation

The sedative wore off at the same time it always did and they groaned, wishing just for once to curl up and go back to sleep. They had five minutes, or ten if they were lucky… but being found still asleep was never worth it. Old and new wounds complained against the arduous process of standing up and feeling for the door.

Sure enough, the fluorescent lights buzzed to life overhead just as they exited the attached bathroom.

“Good morning, dear.” Their captor greeted, gesturing to the chair. Of course, always straight to business with him. But they wavered.

The chair wouldn’t have stood out to an outsider as anything other than a black leather armchair. Sure, it was the only dark item in the starkly clinical room, but that only made it all the more inviting if you didn’t know its use.

“You should take a day off. You’re practically married to your work,” they tried.

“You’re my work, and I don’t think either of us want that,” he shot back, removing four vials from his shoulder bag and setting each neatly on the tray.

The chair. The tray. They were all laughably foreboding. Laughter never eased the fear.

“That’s new.” They knew the first three. Nutrition supplement, immune support, and hydration supplement. Administered every day like clockwork. Days with any more were days to be feared, but they’d started to recognize which drug was which. This was definitely new.

“Yes. Take your seat.”

Always the same goddamn phrase to warn them they were going too far.

“Ring a bell and I’ll probably start slobbering,” they muttered, perching on the edge of the chair. He hummed, unwrapping a needle and drawing out the nutrition supplement.

“Thank Pavlov for lessening that network of scars on your body.” His smile was pleasant as always. In another life where he wasn’t so sick and twisted he was probably a medical provider.

He moved the neck of their shirt aside to access their IV port and inject the liquid, doing the same practiced motions two more times before their hand shot up to cover the port. Disappointed eyes fell upon them.

“Never without some kind of struggle, are you?”

“I just want to know what it is before you do it.”

“You’ll like it. Now move.”

He pried their fingers apart wide enough to push the needle in and depress the plunger. Then he stood back and grabbed his clipboard, probably noting some bullshit about volumes and concentrations, and clicked a stopwatch.

“Tell me when your back stops hurting,” he instructed, and their eyes widened.

“You gave me painkillers? Seriously?” Somehow, they were more nervous than before.

“Something like that.”

When he wanted serious data he didn’t speak much. So silence filled the room until their pain actually reacted as he said. Not only did the sharp pain on their back fade, but so did the aches of months past.

“Holy shit. What did you give me?” They felt like a brand new person. It was… terrifying.

“Your new favorite thing,” he said, and they couldn’t exactly deny it. He finished writing and made his way back over. “Alright. Now for the real test.”

They couldn’t help the way their body clenched up when he stood over them. Or the way they trembled when he opened the zipper pocket and pulled out his knife.

“I thought this was a scientific procedure. Where’s your scalpel?” A risky quip. They didn’t want to see that goddamn scalpel ever again.

“Scientific, not surgical. Calm down or I’ll need to start you on high blood pressure medication too.”

He tapped the arm of the chair and they obediently set their arm there, wary of his every movement as he flipped the underside up.

“If you struggle, I’ll strap you to the table instead.”

That was checkmate and he knew it. A timid nod accepted defeat.

The knife started just below their elbow, pressed in, and pulled ever so slowly down to their wrist. Eyes squeezed shut and teeth grit, preparing for the familiar sting, but…

They looked down. The cut was already bleeding, dripping down their arm, wetting slick leather. But all they’d felt was a mild pressure.

Their captor was looking on just as intensely, studying their reaction.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” they breathed. No pain. “Nothing whatsoever.”

He drew another line, parallel, and even as more blood wept, their eyes were strangely dry.

“Good. Let’s kick this up a notch.”

They opened their mouth to protest but a hand already fisted in their collar, pulling them up and pushing them against the wall. Their vision blurred when their head knocked off the wall, but the explosion of hurt didn’t precede it.

“H-how do you know you didn’t just concuss me?” The longer this went on, the worse it felt.

“I suppose I don’t. Not until I check you.”

“You can’t do that! You need to know how hurt I am, you need to know when to stop-!” A backhand flew across their face, snapping it to the side, and they whimpered. The hit had hardly felt like a brief touch, but its humiliation stung nonetheless.

“I know your limits. Do you think you’d feel a stab wound?” His question made them freeze, tears preemptively flooding their eyes.

“No- please don’t. Please. I’ll lose too much blood, you could hit something vital, please!”

"Do you think my anatomical studies were for nothing?"

Pressure. Pressing harder and harder against their shirt, their abdomen, and then a horrific, slick coolness. It fell back and exposed a rushing warmth, blood staining white fabric, broken skin peeking through the new hole. God. They felt faint.

They fell to their knees and heard footsteps, probably wanting to test whether or not they were faking it.

“It doesn’t hurt,” they cried. “I just- the blood- I need to stem the bleeding.” That was true. Their hands clamped over the stab wound, trying to stop it. The shoes paused next to them in thought, then continued back toward the chair. Just moments later they heard his bag rustling and each vial clinking as it was set inside.

At least he was done for the day. Probably sad he didn’t get to make them scream.

He picked up the bag and his steps resumed, kicking something that skittered to a stop at their feet.

“Page me once it starts to wear off.”

Fuck.

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castrian-amore · 11 months ago

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Bitter had the Heart

Dead Tired(Tim Drake x Danny Fenton), Tim Drake-centric, unfinished, the author is plotting, temporary character death, please check out ao3 for full tags list

3/46 Chapters | Chapter Length: 3584 words

Chapter 3: We are Not Translating Fanfiction

Tim didn’t understand why he had even picked this class for this particular credit. He technically didn’t need it. Then again it seemed more interesting than the other classes and Tim had been hoping for a challenge for once. The teacher was big on working as team and while, yeah Tim could do it. He preferred to work alone on his topics and thankfully there was an odd amount of people in his class so when he requested to do the group assignments he allowed it.

Until today.

One Daniel “Danny” Nightingale, was a late transfer into the class for unknown reason. It was also the mysterious kid in the alley. He looked a little better in person but the vote was that he was definitely sick, whether just right now or long term had yet to be determined. He leaned heavily on a cane at the moment walking with a heavy limp.

Tim could point out his handsome features though. The higher cheekbones. The stunning raven hair, his piercing blue eyes. The kid definitely wasn’t immune to the streets. The way he held himself on the verge of running. The sunken wary eyes. This kid was far too comfortable with living in fight or flight mode. If he even knew anything else it would be surprising.

The teacher pointed to Tim giving him the spot right next to him advising sitting next to the person he would be partnered with. It wasn’t required by any means but it certainly was an option, and he did.

“So, now that that’s out of the way, where was I? Oh yes the IPA. The International Phonetic Alphabet.” Professor Kaivan began his speech as Danny pulled out a piece of notebook paper and pencil sitting next to Tim.

“Uh, hi, I’m Danny,”The kid held out his hand and Tim shook it. A cold chill going up his spine from how cold he was, damn.

“Tim Drake-Wayne,”he introduced with ease, expecting the man to back away or at least move seats because of his name. The Wayne name caught most people off guard but Danny seemed unfazed by it all. In fact he didn’t even flinch or stutter or reel at who he was talking to even.

“Nice to meet you Tim,”Danny gave him a bright smile. “Apologies for having you stuck with partnering for me after I’m already a late transfer.”

“No issue. Can I ask why you had to transfer?”Tim raised an eyebrow at the man. Their words quiet as the professor droned on.

“I was in Latin, and I can fluently speak and read latin. The professor kept getting things wrong and I kept correcting them. They kept insisting because they’re the ‘professor’ but I kept insisting I was right, which I was. She didn’t like that so she kicked me out. She got so annoyed she refused to teach me. Thus leaving me with about to loose my credit I really needed this semester so I asked if I could late transfer into another language based class.”

“And here you are?”

“Here I am. Only teacher that was willing to give me a chance.”

Tim snorts a little. Tim had only almost been kicked out of a class one, and that was one of his law classes. Tim kept correcting the professor over and over and over again, and it kept pissing off the professor so bad. Tim had a sneaking suspicion he was going to like this guy. He just hoped the guy was as intelligent as he seemed.

Being fluent in a dead language was no easy task. None of the bats were fluent in a lot of dead languages but they all knew several spoken languages and a little of a few dead ones. Tim more than others. Books were always his specialty. He preferred to spend the house researching alone in his room or the bat cave. It was part of the reason the other claimed he had a coffee addiction. He did not by the way. He didn’t know what Dick was even talking about.

“Professor Kaivan is pretty relaxed about that kind of stuff. He assigns minimal homework and prefers to do the group projects over everything else.”

“Yeah his rate-my-professor score is pretty high.”

“Sounds about right,”Tim agrees, turning back to the topic at hand for the moment.

“Now, learning the International Phonetic Alphabet is not for the faint of heart. Having someone to listen and assist when learning this is vital. One of the many reasons everyone in this room has a partner. Learning it is vital for the rest of your success in this class. Breaking down specific sounds a language makes and making it easy for everyone to read any language in this format.”

Professor Kaivan was an interesting man. Until four and a half years ago he had some of the worst rate your professor scores, but it was rumored that after the death of his partner he sobered up and wanted to help people. Since then, he has been a great teacher. Using his partner method to teach people, becoming a caring professor, giving students days in class to study and work on whatever work needed to be done. He wasn’t a super hard professor to have.

His hair was graying as the man was into his late 40s going on 50s. Sideburns and his beard graying though. He dressed pretty chill too, half the time coming into class wearing a casual cardigan and a beanie. He was an accomplished guy with a full on doctorate in linguistics. Masters in Psychology and bachelors in the study of Italian. Most of his focus seemed to be on the intricacies of the Italian language but Tim was fluent in Italian and didn’t care to take any of his italian classes. Not that the man had many.

“I know the 107 letters can be difficult and if you don’t know what to listen for they can sound similar to each other, but that’s why this whole unit is just on breaking down the IPA, and making sure all of us can read, and understand it. Okay?”

Mummers of okays and yesses echoed through the lecture hall. Tim opened his phone, scrolling to Dick’s phone number and clicking on it.

Timmy Boi: Guess who just walked into my Linguistics class as a late transfer?

Dickie Bird: Who?

Timmie Boi: Alley kid

Dickie Bird: No fucking way. Is he that rude in person?

Timmie Boi: No not yet at least. We’re partnered up for the semester though, so plenty of time for me to find out heh. Dude’s got a cane.

Dickie Bird: So not our so-called mystery vigilante Jason wants us to meet?

Timmie Boi: Unlikely, He also looks sick as a mother fucker Dick. Like it’s bad.

Dickie Bird: Damn, so still no leads until Friday?

Timmie Boi: Unfortunately not. Cams still distorted as fuck with those symbols?

Dickie Bird: Just like all the others. Only copies we have are hand drawn references. No one can get a clear pic.

Timmie Boi: Anyluck on the Distortion dude? Anything on him?

Dickie Bird: Uhh, he showed up 3 years ago? Works for Jason mostly. Started as a runner, then became body guard and personal protection for a lot of the shipments going in and out of Jason’s domain. That was only after bribing over 15 inmates too.

Timmie Boi: How the fuck did Jason keep someone, a meta namely, from us for so long?

Dickie Bird: Who knows. One guy said something about protecting a child. The child is Jason’s guard dog. Brutal when he needs to be. Maybe he’s scarier than he looks? People kept quiet over fear?

Timmie Boi: You’re the people person, but even then if people are scared we would have heard something else. I just think we have something else in the picture here that we’re missing it all.

Dickie Bird: Well, any cameras he passed by that night went to static. I had Barb check it out for us.

Timmie Boi: So his gift can mess with cameras? Only mildly concerning.

Dickie Boi: Wait, why are we having this conversation right now Tim? You’re in class?!?!?! I’m leaving you alone. Pay attention, and don’t fall asleep, and DRINK WATER FOR ONE IN YOUR CAFFEINE ADDICTED LIFE.

Timmie Boi: YOU CAN’T STOP ME DICK. I’M GETTING COFFEE RIGHT AFTER THIS.

Speaking of coffee, he could probably get mystery-dude’s phone number for their homework and stuff. Maybe he could even get coffee with him and help him with his classes. And maybe find out more about that night in the alley.

“What are you doing after class?”Tim spoke up to look over at the man. Danny wasn’t even paying attention to the lecture. He was… drawing? Way better than anything Tim could draw that was for sure. Maybe he would get along with Damian? Tim liked the easier stuff, taking pictures. He could draw but he didn’t like it nearly as much as being able to get behind a camera and take some beautiful photos. Man, he should get back into that again. Dick was always pressing him to get back into a hobby outside of crime solving. He liked to stick with what he was good at though.

“Oh? Uh nothing really, just contemplating existence. Why what’s up?”Danny gave a soft shy smile. Oh no. His smile was cute. Also wait, contemplating existence?

“Well, I figured if we’re gonna be stuck together all semester we could get coffee and talk about the project and get to know each other a little better.” Tim could watch a wave of anxiety slip over the man.

“Well, I don’t know maybe,”a small shrug then a quiet moment of contemplation. “Actually, sure that’d be nice!”

“Great!”

“Wait, we already have a project?”Danny’s eyes widened looking from his doodle of something? Tim couldn’t make it out but it was pretty? Looked like a pool of swirling water sketched in a gray scale. Who knows. This guy must have been so distracted he didn’t hear the teacher’s words about their project. Rewriting a speech in a non-english language into the phonetic alphabet.

Tim couldn't help but laugh a little at him.

This caught a small look from the teacher and Tim stifled his laughter a little even as Danny began to fight his own laughter as the two looked at each other. That was so dumb. Why was he even laughing at that?

“I’ll explain after class.”

“Sounds good to me, I’m just sitting here… doodlin’.”

“I see that..” Tim gave him a smile as Danny chuckled himself turning back to his drawing. The man stretching his arms upwards turned to actually pay attention to the teacher. A small frown coming across his face noticing the thin spindly scars edging up the side of his neck across the back of his neck. What the fuck was that? He shook his head.

Tim stayed mostly alert the rest of the hour long class. Kaivan had started going through the various letters of the IPA and their origins and why they were chosen. It was interesting to say the least. He had learned a lot and the class was definitely different than what he was used too. Danny on the other hand.

Fuck Tim hoped the dopey smiles and spaced out stared was how he payed attention or their partnership was going to be a lot more strenuous than he originally thought. He swore he saw him falling asleep a couple times there before jerking himself awake. Not that Tim could blame him. He averaged only about 3 hours a night if he was lucky. Then again, Tim didn’t exactly play the whole “catch up on sleep” game.

It did take a gentle nudge from Tim to get the man away and on their way to the coffee shop. He was slow as he walked with the cane but Tim didn’t say anything about it. Everyone had their little quirks and issues. Lord knows Tim had his.

The cold autumn air in Gotham was settling around them.

“What’s your major?” It was Danny who spoke up with a quiet smile.

“Oh, business. I plan to take over my father’s company,”Tim replied.

“Wow, impressive.” Danny looked up at the sky with a small chuckle as Tim raised an eyebrow at him.

“Thanks, what’s yours?”

“Engineering, I was going to do Astronomy but we’ll the Gotham Skies aren’t exactly the clearest.” Danny chuckled softly as Tim gave a nod.

“The smog helps no one. Glad you found a major you like though.” There was a silence settling between them but it didn’t lessen the mood in fact it almost felt welcomed in a quiet way.

“Same to you!” Danny looked up at the crows stopping the duo in their tracks. There were almost 10 crows just watching them. Tim, had never seen that. All them staring at Danny. “Boo.” The man whispered and with a small chuckled, all 10 flew off the branches and into the air leaving Tim to watch and then follow. Missing how the birds simply landed up ahead.

Tim was sort of lost in thought about the revelations they could possibly have about the whole Distortion situation.

“Heyo, Timmy,”Danny’s voice dragged him from his thoughts and his slow pace holding the door open. “Don’t hurry up and you’ll be soaked.” He hadn’t even noticed a slow drizzle starting to fall from the sky. He held his hand out before running to meet the man.

Tim joined the man into the warm coffee shop. The scent of pumpkin spice filling their noses as they moved to get in line.

“Didn’t get too wet did you?”Danny asked concern surprising Tim.

“Ah, no, don’t worry about me though. I might be more concerned for when we leave here though.”

“I’m not too worried.” The man gave a nonchalant shrug. “Can’t kill me worse than I already have been.” Was that a death joke?

“Oh?”Tim gave a smirk. He wasn’t normally one for puns, those were Dick’s thing but also… Dick wasn’t here. “Did it have you rolling in your grave?” Dick could never find out about this but then Danny’s shit eating grin only widened across his face.

“Oh, for sure it was to die for after all.”

“I can’t I’m sorry,”Tim laughed with a smile. “What’re you getting? I’ll pay since I invited you out.”

“Oh, I might scare you with my order.”

“I promise you won’t. Mine is insane myself.”

“One of those extra large pumpkin spice lattes with 10 shots of espresso.”

“Extra large americano with 8 shots of espresso,”Tim quipped. “I see you’re a man just as insane as I am.”

“Oh, for sure. I’ve never met someone with an order just as bad as mine,”he admitted as he stared up at the menu. “How are the sandwiches here? Are they pretty dead-licious?”

“Oh god..”

“Or I don’t know, pretty frightful?”

“Please Danny.”

“I bet they’re boo-mbastic.”

“Who ever uses that word anymore.”

Okay Halloween was coming up admittedly. Yes there were halloween and fall decorations coming but, but god dammit Danny. It was like having another Dick around.

“You decided to fuel this.”

“I did not decide to fuel anything!”Tim complained just as they got to the counter ordering their coffees. It was a barista Tim was familiar with. A kind girl named Sarah who seemed to be all too familiar with the two of them.

“Oh! Can I also get the mac and cheese please!”Danny offered another charming smile putting some money in the tip jar. “I can pay you back Tim.”

“No worries.” Tim gave a shrug.

“Alrighty and here you are Tim.” Sarah handed him his card back with the receipt as he himself put some money in the jar.

“Damn, she knows your name?”

“I know you too Danny, Mr. 10 shots of espresso at midnight last week. You also fucking work here.”

“Love you guysssss, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Danny practically purred out with an innocent smile.

“You two together, scare me,”the barista motioned between the two of them. “But honestly, we were waiting for you two to meet.”

“I’m innocent,”Tim vouched.”Also wait, what?”

“I watched you order an extra large cup with only espresso shots in it for Finals last semester.” Sarrah refused to answer the apparent group that had been waiting for Tim and Danny to meet each other.

“I was busy!”

“You weren’t sleeping!”

“Anyways I’m going to go over there,”Danny pointed to an empty table by the window.

“Yeah, Tim. How about you go over there. With your little Date,”She emphasized the word as Danny was already over sitting down unpacking his backpack onto the table.

“He’s not my date! We literally just met!”

“Yet. Next in line please!”

“Sarah-- no-- I swear to--”Tim could have sworn he saw an exchanging of cash behind the counters. Were they betting on something. What the fuck were they betting on?!? He hissed and moved to join Danny in the opposite seat.

“So did you even catch what the group project is? How much have you studied of the Linguistics 101 class anyways?” Tim pulled out his laptop setting it in front of him. He logged in giving a small smile of the silly chaotic and group picture they had gotten last year at Christmas. Bruce stood on the far right and Jason on the far left Dick’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. Damian was trying to stab Tim again who was moving to dodge it. Steph chaotically cheering the gremlin on. Cass quietly wondering if she should intervene in the middle. Duke full on panicked at what was going on as it was his first Christmas with the family. Barb covering her mouth in laughter in front of Bruce. He wanted to make sure she was included. It was his favorite photo of him and his siblings.

Fuck. Danny had been talking to him.

“Earth to Timmy.” A wave of a hand in front of his face.

“Please just Tim,”he laughs. “Sorry, yes?”

“I was asking about the IPA. Are you familiar with it? I have no idea on anything about it.”

“I know like half of it? I’ll have to learn the other half,”he admits. “But yes, the project.”

“Fuck, yeah okay what’s this project?”

“It involves reading.”

“No! WHY!”

“In another language.. That neither of us speak.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah, so we’re supposed to write down a 1,000 minimum word speech, or chapter from a book or whatever and put it into the International Phonetic Alphabet.”

“I don’t know about you but I speak a lot, like A lot of languages.”

“Yeah.. I feel the same way.”

“What do you speak?” Danny playfully pushed Tim’s computer screen down from booting up the program the professor had given them to use to type out the phonetic alphabet. It was still apparently a nightmare program, but he had decided to type it so he wouldn't be deciphering shitty handwriting.

“Mandarin, Chinese, Italian, German, French, russian, Japanese, tagalog, spanish, I think that’s all of them?”

“You speak Tagalog too!” Danny’s words switched with ease to the language.

“No fuckin’ way,” Tim had to laugh at that one. “What else do you speak?”

“Same things are you but, Esperanto, Swahili, Cantonese, javanese, Sardo(technically a dialect but you know same difference), Ukrainian, I think that’s all?”

“I thought I was the Polyglot. Oh! I also speak ASL and BSL.”

“I know bits and pieces of ASL, definitely no BSL though,”he laughs softly. “But wait what other languages does that leave?”

“Well, a lot but I mean. We could always pick an easy one we both know.”

“Italian?”

“Yeah, please. I do not want translate someone in a non-latin based alphabet. It registers funny in my brain.”

“I gotta ask though Danny… Esperanto?”

“Okay, leave me alone! I had a friend who spoke it and taught me it so we could shit about others.”

“That’s fuckin’ hilarious though,”he smirked. “But what should we translate?”

Danny looked like he was about to burst out laughing. “What if we just fucking translated the Divine Comedy.”

“Danny Nightingale, are you telling me we should rewrite one of the most famous works of Italian writing, ever. That is also notoriously translated, a lot? And is--- you know.”

“Ma Divine Commedia,”Danny laughed. Tim could not with him right now. “E la fanfiction Tim.”

“YEAH I KNOW, that’s why I can’t believe you’re suggesting it.”

“COMMEDIA.” Danny proclaimed with a snort. Fuck that was cute. Thank god his name was called to grab their stuff. He could ignore the small twinge in his chest as he brought them their coffee and the food for Danny.

“Let’s get this over with I guess.”

“YES!” Danny threw his first into the air in excitement. “This is the start a beautiful friendship Tim, I promise.”

“Are we about to be nightmares to our poor professor?”

“What? Nooooo.”

“Oh yes we fucking are,”Tim rolled his eyes and smiled as he sipped his drink pulling up the original document. They were so fucked, but at least it would be funny. If Danny was his new partner for his class maybe Friday would come sooner than he thought.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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apollo-likes-writing · 7 months ago

Text

June of Doom Day Two - Double-crossed/Forced to Watch

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Characters: Veritas Ratio, Aventurine, Sunday

Ship: Golden Ratio (Aventurine/Dr. Ratio)

Summary: An AU where Sunday knows about the three Cornerstones during the confrontation between himself, Aventurine, and Dr. Ratio. Chaos, whump, and angst ensue.

Word count: 3,364

Tags: Whump, angst, graphic depictions of violence, torture, mind control, mind manipulation, illusions of pain but it isn't technically real, manipulation.

Author's Note: I don't know how I vomited up over 3000 words for this, but here I am. I hope you enjoy! As always, please comment and reblog as it helps me out a bunch (and gives me a much needed serotonin boost). This is not beta-read so please let me know if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes/goofy pacing.

@juneofdoom

Masterlist | Day One | Day Three

Two men stand side by side in front of huge oak double-doors, both in elaborate clothing; one in green, black, and white, and the other in blue, white, and gold. They are presumed to hate each other. They do not. Far from it, actually. They have found a special kind of companionship during their short period of knowing each other. Who would’ve thought a Stoneheart of the Interastral Peace Corporation and a professor of the Intelligentsia Guild could get along? Especially with temperaments as different as theirs. Aventurine: a “crazed gambler” as the other likes to put it. A man of extraordinary levels of luck and the tendency to value petty bets over his own life. Veritas Ratio: a “stuffy doctor” as the other likes to playfully tease, much to his dismay. A professor of profound intelligence, continually disappointed by the divine entity that refuses to cast THEIR gaze in his direction standing next to the man cursed to withstand the favour of another. Both are pitied. Both are revered. Both are about to stab the head of the Oak Family in the back.

“Sunday is just beyond this door. Are you ready?” the doctor asks, his head turned towards the shorter man beside him.

Aventurine’s eyes remain trained on the door in front of him. “Yep. You?”

“Tell me your plan.”

“I’ll play it by ear.”

“Are you serious?”

“When am I not?”

“Is that a serious question?”

“It was a rhetorical question, Doctor.”

“Mine was nothing of the sort, Gambler. Are you telling me you do not have a plan for facing Sunday?”

“Three chips will do.”

After that short bicker, Aventurine winks at the man and steps forward to push open the door. It takes everything in Ratio to not sigh and roll his eyes. Doing so would only encourage the man in front of him further, so he instead schools his expression to one of his usual neutrality and calmly strolls into the room behind his companion. Inside sits Sunday, who raises from his seat on the opposite side of the huge circular table and welcomes the two men with a gesture of his hand.

“It seems my puzzles are too effortless for you, IPC ambassador,” he begins.

“I see you put a lot of effort into welcoming me, Mr. Sunday. However, this is no way to greet a guest,” Aventurine replies coolly, crossing his arms.

Sunday smiles, teeth glinting in the light above him. “Well, this isn’t an invitation, but a summoning. Before we speak, I need to test your character. You understand, yes?” He gestures to Ratio, whose expression remains unmoving. “I imagine this knowledgeable doctor friend of yours has been of great help, hm?”

Aventurine’s faux smile matches the man in front of him. “Certainly. You ought to know this better than I do – he has already faithfully fulfilled his duties, hasn’t he?”

“Yes. The doctor has assured me of your noble character. He considers you, like himself, a virtuous person who can be trusted by The Family.” Ratio is getting a little sick of being talked about as if he wasn’t in the room. He doesn’t let that show on his face, of course, but he can’t help but feel a little irked.

“You don’t look too well,” the ambassador suddenly states bluntly. “Am I making you anxious? If not, then it means I’m on your side.”

“You’re a wise man, Aventurine.” The Halovian places his hands behind his back – the image of grace. “My only concern is that you’ve used your wisdom at the wrong time to meet the wrong person and put yourself in a situation where you shouldn’t be.” His sister’s death. “If I wasn’t mistaken, you have just made a serious accusation against The Family.”

“You are not mistaken. Depravity is creeping in around you, Mr. Sunday.” This is certainly not how Ratio would go about this. This is creeping into increasingly dangerous territory. “There’s no need to be evasive. Let’s talk about your sister, shall we? Many suspect her death to be the work of outsiders, but I know you are of a different opinion.”

Ratio can’t tell for sure at this distance, but he could have sworn that Sunday’s posture tenses.

“Now, your noble status has become a shackle, preventing you from apprehending the murderer and avenging your sister’s death. You’re feeling anxious because you’re out on a limb. But don’t worry. I am on your side.”

Despite the tightness of his shoulders, Sunday’s voice betrays no such tenseness. “I’m immensely honoured by your concern for me, Mr. Aventurine – since you’re so selfless and generous, I believe you wouldn’t ask for anything in return, would you?”

“Naturally, you wouldn’t incur any loss from this. I simply want to reclaim what is mine: my liberty, and my personal items under the Family’s custody – the bag of gift money, and-”

“The Cornerstone and the box that it inhabits.”

“That’s right.”

“A treasured asset of the Strategic Investment Department, a sacred stone that seals the Emanator of Preservation, granting significant power to each of the Ten Stoneheart's, yes?”

“You would be correct.” Where is this going? This is like an elaborate chess game, two players taking the other’s pieces for their own gain. For all his intelligence, Ratio can’t figure out who has the most pawns at their disposal. He knows he is one of them, but his move has already been made.

“For an object so precious, it probably comes at an even higher price than other forms of recompense.”

Aventurine frowns – a performed frown – but a frown nonetheless. “I’m sure you’re aware of the high level of risk I’ll be undertaking to bring the truth to light-”

“Mr. Aventurine,” Sunday starts, raising a hand to silence him. “When you’re out and about, do you always make adjustments to your appearance? Your tie should be on the centre line, your shirt must not protrude from your vest, your trouser creases should be perfectly straight, and always aligned with the tips of your shoes.”

The blonde nods. “Of course.”

“I don’t, because it is not appropriate to do so in the company of others – you should make sure you are presentable and in order before leaving the house. Unlike you, I’m not the kind that takes risks. The Cornerstone must remain in the custody of The Family.”

Looks like the first piece has been taken. Aventurine sighs. “...No room for negotiation?” At this, Ratio moves from where he stands next to the IPC ambassador to the bookshelf closer to Sunday. Ratio must admit that he is a pawn to both players. He doesn’t like it, but it’s a necessary evil. This room is a giant chess board, and he just took his turn.

Sunday shakes his head. “Please don’t let me turn you down twice.”

“...Fine. The gift money is fine. I suppose you wouldn’t mind that, yes? After all, a businessman can’t function without a bargaining chip.” To that, Sunday lets himself raise an eyebrow.

“You compromised quicker than I thought you would,” he notes. “Unfortunately for you, it is a gambler that needs a bargaining chip, not a businessman. I have no qualms in giving you your gift money, but before that, I need you to tell me-”

Suddenly, Aventurine gasps and takes a step back. His eyes glaze over, and he looks at the Halovian in confusion. It’s a look that appears real. Sunday’s halo glows a myriad of psychedelic pinks and blues and yellows and greens. Ratio must turn away to prevent his distaste from becoming apparent. Sunday is using the power of the Harmony.

“What exactly is in the box that you have decidedly forsaken?”

Sunday raises his arms reverently and looks to the ceiling. “Oh Triple-Faced Soul, please sear his tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that he will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.”

“...What is this?” Aventurine shoots a glance towards Ratio, but sees his head turned.

“Under the light of the Harmony, all wickedness is revealed. I implore THEM to shed THEIR light, and I’ll ask you questions on THEIR behalf. You have two minutes to prove your innocence and gain my trust.”

“...And if I refuse to answer?”

“You can certainly try – at your own risk, of course.” Sunday grins. “We’ll see if the Harmony rejects you.” At Aventurine’s decided silence, the sky-haired man begins his interrogation. Ratio turns his head back to the two men. Despite his disgust, he cannot help but be a curious man, so he watches.

“Question: Do you own a Cornerstone?” he asks.

“Yes.” The answer is immediate, almost as if it escaped Aventurine’s mouth before he had the chance to think about it. Not good.

“What a simple answer,” Sunday states, nodding in faux approval. “You, too, understand that nonsense leads only to your expense. Let us continue.”

“Did you hand over the Cornerstone to The Family when you entered Penacony?”

“Yes.”

“Does the Cornerstone you handed over to The Family belong to you?”

“Yes.”

“Is your Cornerstone in this room right now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you an Avgin from Sigonia?”

What has that got to do with the current circumstances?

Aventurine falters slightly at the question, clearly taken off guard. “Yes. Why do you know that?”

Sunday ignores his question. “Do the Avgins have any ability to read, tamper with, or manipulate one’s own or another’s mind?”

“What?” he barks out a laugh at the apparently ludicrous question. The action makes Sunday’s halo brighten and Aventurine winces before answering properly. “No. Does it matter?”

“Do you love your family more than yourself?” Sunday asks, tilting his head to the side. These questions are getting weirdly personal. Ratio crosses his arms.

“Yes.” An immediate answer.

“All of the Avgins were killed in a massacre. Am I correct?”

“No.”

“Are you your clan’s sole survivor?”

Aventurine hesitates. “...Probably.”

“Do you hate and wish to destroy this world with your own hands?”

A second hesitation. “No.”

“Alright. Final question: Can you swear at this very moment, the Aventurine Cornerstone is safe and sound in this box?”

A third. “Obviously.”

Sunday nods. “Very well. I have no further questions.”

Ratio gives out a silent sigh of relief. Sunday moves around the table and strolls towards Aventurine, his halo is so bright that even Ratio can feel it. The atmosphere of the room is suffocating in the will of the Harmony. The high-inducing rainbow of colours escaping from behind the head of Sunday is becoming overbearing for the doctor, let alone for Aventurine. He can’t help but feel pity for the Sigonian.

Sunday halts a few steps away from the Stoneheart. He taps his finger against his chin as if pondering something. “You know, if there could only be one thing I detest in this vast Universe: it would be dishonesty, Mr. Aventurine.”

Wait, what? That wasn’t what he was supposed to say. Ratio can’t stop himself from shooting a glance towards Sunday from where he stands behind him.

“I- I beg your pardon?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You have been lying through your teeth ever since you stepped onto this planet.”

“Well- yeah. I haven’t exactly tried to hide that. Isn’t that what your mind-fuckery is all about? To get me to tell the truth? Or are you just trying to show off?” he asks, subtly glancing at Ratio. “Or does your ‘power of the Harmony’ not work?”

“I can assure you, the Harmony influences all. However, I will admit that I have hidden something from you, Mr. Aventurine,” Sunday replies, his wings pitching downwards a little.

“Well, isn’t that a surprise,” the gambler retorts, evidently filling his words with as much sarcasm as he can muster. His knees buckle slightly, clearly struggling under the weight of the Emanator’s gaze. Ratio can’t look away.

“While my powers of persuasion have every capability of forcing the truth out of your lips, I decided to do a little experiment to see if you’re capable of honesty of your own volition,” the angelic man says. “You apparently are not. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Aventurine stays silent.

“I’m saying that I know that you’re lying to me.”

Throughout this entire negotiation, this is the first time Veritas has felt fearful. The room becomes even more suffocating, if that’s even possible. He forces his own face to remain neutral. He plays the role of traitor in this grand play, after all. He must see it through for his companion’s sake.

From where he stands, he can see Sunday’s shoulders shake. He’s laughing. He’s enjoying this.

“I know about the Topaz Cornerstone. I know about the Aventurine Cornerstone. And, as similar as it is to your own, I know about Jade Cornerstone.”

Oh. Shit.

“How you managed to sway not one- but two individuals from a group as discordant as the Ten Stoneheart's to go along with your terrible plan is beyond me.” Sunday barks a loud laugh. “Truly, you are too much of a risk-taker, Mr. Aventurine. Now-” the man lifts an arm out in front of him, as if reaching for Aventurine from a distance. Ratio can’t stop himself from taking a step forward. He can’t let the man he cares for break in front of him.

“Kneel.”

His knees hit the floor, the full force of the Harmony crashing down on him. The scolding feeling of something forcing itself into his brain causes him to squeeze his eyes shut. He opens his mouth to scream, but it’s as if his throat has closed. Useless and silent.

“What on earth are you doing?” The other man looks on, frozen.

“You are not the only liar in this room, Aventurine.” He turns. “Come here.”

He leans forward from where he kneels and falls onto his hands and knees. He crawls over to the Halovian, stopping only when his head almost hits Sunday’s thigh. He falls back onto his calves, looking up at him in pure disgust.

“Don’t look at me like that.” His face is forced into neutrality against his will. “Let’s play a game, Aventurine. Tell me what your plan is and what Ratio has to do with it, and I’ll let him live.”

From where he kneels, Ratio turns his head to gaze at Aventurine, unable to look at him in any way except for indifference. He’s fucking terrified, but he can’t make that obvious no matter how much he wants to.

“Can’t you just force the truth out of me? Why not do that instead?” he asks, looking at his companion on the floor with an expression Ratio wishes he could mirror – fear.

“That’s boring,” Sunday replies simply. His calm demeanour is steadfast but with a smile that is growing wider with every passing second. “I find this maintains much more efficiency.”

Aventurine scoffs, still attempting to keep his act. “What does killing an Intelligentsia Guild member do for you that maintains efficiency? You’re mad.”

“It maintains efficiency because you care about him, Mr. Aventurine. I see all in the Dreamscape. I see the looks shared between the two of you. The companionship you fostered in the short time of knowing each other. You may think you’re able to disguise your relationship with insults and petty arguments, but you cannot. It is frightfully obvious. Besides, you’re more likely to answer truthfully if the life of someone you care about is at stake.”

“This is pathetic! He has done nothing to you.” It’s obvious that Aventurine is grasping at straws here.

“You’re right. He has done nothing to me. He has lied and told falsehoods but only because you told him to. I have no reason to do this,” Sunday shrugs, his grin becoming a little too wide.

There is an oppressive silence that follows. One that draws the line between predator and prey; master and slave; the controller and the controlled.

“I’m doing this because I hate you, Mr. Aventurine. And you love him.”

With that, an excruciating pain sets Ratio’s nerves alight. It rips through his mind and tears into his heart and lungs and stomach and extremities. His back hits the floor and he spasms where he lies, agony devouring his senses.

Veritas Ratio screams.

He is not a man that screams. Not usually. At pain he normally gives a small grunt and gives a debilitating glare to whomever or whatever caused him harm. Anything more would infer a weakness he doesn’t have. Not here. Here, his voice is guttural and raw and pitched and agonising. It echoes around the room and rises above the Choir of the Harmony that deafens everything else. His eyes snap shut so tightly that he sees stars dotting around in the darkness of the underside of his eyelids.

“Open your eyes,” several cacophonous voices demand.

He does, his eyelids shooting open through a compulsion that makes him sick. The psychedelic neon colours of the Harmony streak across his vision and blind him. He continues to convulse on the floor. The pain causes him to double over as stinging tears rip themselves from his eyes and smudge the red under his eyes.

“Look at him.”

His head snaps up and his eyes meet Aventurine’s. He’s frozen in place and looking at him in pure horror. Undoubtedly, he has been compelled to stay where he is, made obvious by how much his legs shake and his fingers twitch in futile attempts to reach Ratio. The doctor’s breaths come out in short wheezes, his chest rising and falling in quick succession as panic sets in his bones. While he is not a man to scream, he is also not a man to panic – it is a brief episode of intense anxiety that the brain concocts and transforms into a physical response. Ratio is a man of knowledge and has ways of stopping panic in its tracks before it takes root. In this case, however, knowledge is stripped of him and thrown out of the window. In a small corner of his mind, Ratio knows that this onset of fear and panic is caused by the effects of the Harmony. It is superficial. It is not real.

But Aeons above – it fucking feels real.

It carries on for what feels like hours. For all Ratio knows it could have been. If he was more cognizant, he would wonder what Sunday’s goal in this endeavour is. Is it to drive Aventurine into telling the truth? To prove a point? The answer to that is between Sunday and his Aeon.

He’s sure he blacks out every now and again, the pain writhing across his spine easily becoming too much for his body. He faintly hears the calm voice of the Halovian above him standing resolute as he speaks to Aventurine. He can’t make out coherent words, but by what he can tell from the Stoneheart’s expressions it’s nothing good. He should have been sent to the waking world by now, right? That’s what everyone in The Family says happens. If you want to leave the Dreamscape, you can. You can wake up in your designated Dreampool whenever you want without hindrance. Or is Sunday stopping that as well? He doesn’t know if that’s even possible.

It’s only when he is once again on the edge of falling out of consciousness that the power of the Harmony lifts from his trembling and fragile body. It isn’t slow like he expected it to be – but rapid. It is immediate and the loss of such a suffocating presence is almost as painful as it was before. He quickly feels arms wrap around him from where he lies limp on the floor, the familiar fluff of the collar of Aventurine’s coat warming his cheek.

“I’m sorry, Veritas,” he whispers in his ear. “I should never have let this happen to you.”

Faintly, the doctor hears the wooden door of Sunday’s office click shut. It’s then when he realises, he has been picked up and brought out of his room. Through pained eyes, he gazes at Aventurine. He then lifts a heavy arm to cup the man’s cheek, before slipping into unconsciousness for the final time.

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shenenenigans · 4 months ago

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FILE A-1226 | SUBJECT 020798

THREAT LEVEL: High

STATUS: ???

020798 has been found sneaking into segyein only rooms and stealing numerous files and records. She has also caused harm to multiple workers in the infirmary by subjecting them to extremely hazardous elixirs on multiple occasions. She has done this either by injections in their sleep or by “gifting” the workers juice which they drank unaware of the poison. This has unfortunately gone under our radar until the day of her departure.

020798 also tried to kill one of her nurses, Ambys, a former interviewer who worked on Incident 8-625 in the 39th ANAKT Garden. Cameras show 020798 hitting Ambys in the back of the head with her IV stand before proceeding to stab him directly in his chest with an unknown object. She looks to have dug deep into his body, removing his heart. She collects many blood samples from him, then throws her unidentified weapon at the camera allowing her to escape with no witnesses.

From gathering evidence, it seems that she had made a makeshift laboratory for herself in an old closet where she created a serum out of the blood she collected from Ambys. We are not sure what she was hoping to make of it.

Ambys cannot die. We are sure 020798 was aware of this information, as most of the files she stole were about him.

020798 left a camera on nearby her laboratory, where she smiled into the lens and waved. We can also see Ambys steadily regaining control of his body, which is due to his species being able to regenerate any part of the body after a short amount of time. 020798 must have removed his heart in hopes of slowing him down.

Ambys and 020798 had a fight in her laboratory where Ambys tried to restrain her. She was quite violent and acted very out of character. She is seen injecting herself with the serum she made and becoming more aggressive after being injected. Black veins circled around the site of injection. Her nails also became stained black.

Ambys slammed her against the wall, breaking her collar, and holding her by the head.

020798 thrashed about before her head was violently torn off. Another student had walked in after the incident occurred, and he was dealt with accordingly.

We are sure that 020798 is dead. However, when her body was transferred to a holding room, after 24 hours, it was missing. We do not know what happened during that time.

Ambys visited 020798’s body within those 24 hours, but refuses to talk about the situation.

In short: 020798 is dangerous and most likely deceased. We will not label her as missing and instead hide this event from the other students by reporting her death as a surgical accident.

If 020798 is still, in fact, alive: please do not be alarmed. She will not survive more than one week.

020798 deceived us all. We thought she was a sweet, kind girl at heart. This is her true nature. Do not be fooled in the future. There will be incidents like this again if we do not keep close watch.

Other notes:

Ambys will not be punished for causing the death of a student. It was in self-defense.

If there are any future sightings of subject 020798, please report it to ANAKT Garden staff. We will only then proceed to search for her. We are still confident that she will not survive.

From now on, all infirmary staff will lock all doors before closing down for the night. We will now have night time surveillance.

020798 had also stolen files on herself. It is possible she found things she shouldn’t have.

We will now relocate the records into a secluded area.

tags! @bluemoonscape @4listr @starry-skiez @rockwgooglyeyes @aakaneeee @paradisedisconcert and also @apriciticreveries @pwippy and @nottoonedin ! for the last three im not sure if you wanted to be tagged since you only liked the post but i did it just in case… please let me know if i missed anyone! if i did, i apologize! you can also tell me if you want to be added here as well <3

#alnst oc: nene #alien stage oc #alnst oc #alien stage ocs #alnst ocs #tw murder #???#like #graphic depictions of violence #ish #its not very graphic but nene does in fact get beheaded

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adrift-in-thyme · 1 year ago

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Whumptober Day 3: "Make it stop"

Read it on Ao3

- Wild & the Chain

- Summary: When Wild is captured by the Yiga Clan, Master Kohga decides to get his revenge

CW for graphic depictions of violence, torture, blood and injury, vomiting, and a character briefly wishing for death

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

“Get up!”

Wild pries open his eyes just as a boot connects with his side. He jerks away with a hiss of pain.

Of all the horrible ways to wake up…

The face of a Yiga assassin comes into view as his vision clears and he groans.

Even better.

“I said, get up!”

Another kick that takes Wild’s breath away.

“Yeah that’s not the best way to get me off the floor,” he remarks, dragging himself into a seated position.

That earns him a sharp smack across the face. Wincing, he watches as the assassin bends down, unlocking his chains. They fall to the floor with a clatter. But Wild hardly has time to breathe a sigh of relief, or rub his wrists, or even to plan a quick escape. Almost immediately, the Yiga yanks his hands behind his back, then ties them tightly with a thick rope.

The coarse material rubs at his already raw wrists. It only adds to the cacophony of aches that have begun to arise now that he’s conscious. Wild blows out an annoyed sigh. As if he could forget how sorely he had lost his last fight.

Rough hands haul him to his feet and he stumbles. His surroundings go fuzzy and dim and for a moment he is certain he’s going to faint. But then it passes. And not a moment too soon. The Yiga shoves him forward and wrenches open the cell door.

The same one they’d thrown Barta into, Wild realizes dazedly. The thought doesn’t make him feel any more comfortable.

“Walk,” comes the sharp order, accompanied by another, hearty push. Stumbling on achingly numb legs, Wild starts forward.

He falls more than walks down the stairs. Between the Yiga’s forceful movements and the haze he has yet to pull himself out of, he can hardly keep himself upright. Even the journey across the main room is difficult.

Especially once he realizes where they’re headed.

“Master Kohga will be so pleased to see you,” his captor hisses, no doubt noticing the sudden increased tension in Wild’s shoulders.

“Didn’t I kill him?” Wild asks, with a forced chuckle. Maybe if he feigns nonchalance it will mask the thundering of his heart. He sends a furtive glance around the space, looking for anything that could possibly allow for a quick escape. But there is nothing.

…and no one. Save for the few assassins who leer at him from beneath their masks.

He swallows, hard. “I think I remember dropping his own weapon onto his head.”

That garners him a swift kick to the shins. He trips, only saved from face planting by the Yiga’s tight grip.

“You are a fool to think our master is so easily defeated. You on the other hand…”

The hallway narrows, then widens into a familiar room. He forces himself to take a deep breath.

“��you will meet your end today.”

Wild lifts his head as he walks through the doorway, heart situated painfully in his throat. Master Kohga sits before him, looking very much alive.

“You,” he snarls as soon as he lays eyes on the champion. “You cocky, undying little punk! You thought you had seen the end of the Great Master Kohga, didn’t you?”

Wild shrugs, a slight smirk on his lips. “I did drop a boulder on your head.”

The Yiga restraining him kicks his legs out from under him. He hits the ground with an “oof.”

“That-that is inconsequential!” Kohga replies, huffily. “I am more powerful than death! But for the pain you caused my beloved, loyal followers” – He rises now, stomping his foot along with every word– “You. Are. Going. To. Die!”

His captor’s grip tightens and he yanks on Wild’s hands. Wild falls back, head bumping against the assassin's hip.

“Shall I take him outside, Master Kohga?” A sadistic sort of excitement colors his voice. It makes Wild’s blood run cold.

Kohga nods. “Yes, take him. I do not wish to ruin my furniture with his blood.”

Again, Wild is hauled upward, though this time a vicious sickle finds its way into his back. It bites into his flesh and he fights not to let out a hiss of pain.

“Move,” the Yiga snaps and Wild stumbles out into the sun.

Kohga sits cross-legged over the crater Wild had been so certain he had plummeted into, hovering serenely just above it.

“Come forward, hero,” he sneers as Wild is shoved toward the gaping hole. “You will be pleased to find that I have perfected my art more than ever!”

With a snap of his fingers, a massive boulder appears above his head. Dozens of tiny spikes protrude from its smooth surface. Wild’s blood runs cold. Abandoning his more measured, methodical tugs of before, he begins yanking ferociously at his bonds.

But then, the Yiga drives his sickle into the back of his leg and all thoughts of an escape vanish. He chokes on a cry. His vision bleeds white. It’s all he can do not to pass out.

One, swift movement and the weapon is out of him, tearing through his flesh as easily as fingers through tissue paper. This time he screams.

He hardly registers it when the Yiga backs away, barely realizes that a large, stone door is sliding over the opening behind him, blocking any exit.

But Kohga’s shrill laughter pierces his ears like knives and he drags his head up to look at him.

“If I were you I would run,” he says, voice nearly brimming with excitement. “Because the time for vengeance has come!”

He begins to swing the boulder over his head. With each trip around it gains momentum, growing closer and closer to the moment when it will break free and careen straight at Wild.

Come on, get up. You’ve got to move.

Gritting his teeth, Wild forces himself to his feet. Pain shoots through his leg anew, like a thousand tiny shards of glass have entered his wound. A scream breaks through his parched lips. His lungs burn, breath coming too fast, heart beating erratically. Stars explode before his eyes.

And still the boulder spins. The motion makes him dizzy.

On trembling limbs he stumbles forward, bile rising in his throat. But each step is sheer agony and he’s slow.

…much too slow.

When the boulder flies free, he can’t evade it. It collides with his body and he goes flying. Pain erupts within him. It steals his breath, propels forth a shout of shock and agony, makes his extremities go numb. He can hear his bones cracking even over the rushing in his ears. His vision goes blindingly white, then spotty, then dangerously dark.

He hits the ground, crying out at the agony of the impact. And the boulder comes down with him, crushing his prone body.

Somewhere, Kohga is laughing. The boulder disappears, retreating back to its owner to prepare for another round. Wild knows he should get up, knows he should at least attempt to run. But all he can do is lie there, trying to breathe. Trying to stay awake.

Blood gurgles in his throat and he pitches sideways, gagging on it. Against the blurred sand, the liquid looks far darker than usual. Almost black.

Like the blood of the Shadow, he thinks dazedly.

He doesn’t get much farther than that thought. Because once more the boulder shoots forward. This time it rolls into him more than flies, shoving him against the far wall and pinning him there.

He doesn’t have the strength to scream, even as the spikes tear out chunks of his flesh and his shattered bones protest this newest assault. He yearns for oblivion that refuses to come.

“So, hero, how do you like it?”

It hits him again, smashing him against the cool stone. He gags on blood once more. It drips into his eyes, runs in rivulets down his face, pools in the gashes that run along his body.

“Painful, isn’t it? Well, that is what you did to me!”

Wild teeters on the edge. Of death or unconsciousness, though, he isn’t sure. Death, he hopes.

(Though at the same time, he doesn’t, because that means he has lost the battle again, failed everyone again, but sweet Hylia he just wants this to stop. Please make this stop.)

And it’s clear now that there will be no other escape.

Your brothers aren’t coming for you. Even if they are, they’ll be too late.

It’s already too late.

“But the mighty Master Kogha prevails over pain and death! You, however, are weak! Weak, weak, weak!”

The boulder retracts and Wild watches it dimly. One more hit is all it will take. He is certain.

So much for coming back to life.

He can see bone, he realizes, shining gorily from his left arm. It is at a strange angle too.

Must be broken.

It certainly isn’t the only thing. But somehow, that hardly seems important at the moment.

His eyes slip closed. Everything hurts. The only other time he felt like this was when he collapsed on Blatchery Plain.

I’m sorry, Zelda, for putting you through this again.

I’m sorry…

“Champion!”

A shout rings out across the space, protectively furious and wonderfully familiar. There’s a scream and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. But the blow he expects doesn’t fall on him.

Instead, gentle hands lift his head, cradling it. He blinks open swollen eyes to see the blurred face of Twilight hovering just above him. Legend and Sky appear over his shoulder, seconds later.

“Twi.”

Clumsily, he tries to reach out with his less injured arm, eager to touch him, to prove that he is real. But his body refuses to follow his commands. He doesn’t have to worry, though. The rancher’s hand easily finds its way into his.

“I’ve got you, Wild,” he says, and there is pure fire in his tone. “You’re safe now.”

A head of familiar pink hair leans over him. Gentle, trembling hands nudge his chin upward.

“Here, you’ve gotta drink this.”

Potion is poured down his throat, lukewarm and burning. But the magic of it begins its work immediately, zipping purposefully toward the worst of his wounds.

Wild swallows it with an effort. Then, he drags his eyes back up to meet Twilight’s. “Kohga?”

It is hardly a whisper, yet they hear it anyway.

“Dead.” He thinks it’s Sky who answers, though his voice doesn’t quite have its usual tone. It is a brittle thing. Dangerous. “For good this time.”

Wild tries to grin, but finds he isn’t quite up to it. “Good,” he mumbles instead. “Tired of his dumb belly.”

Twilight’s lips quirk the slightest bit. Gently, he brushes aside Wild’s bangs, wet with blood and sweat.

“Well, he’s never gonna touch you again.”

“Now, rest up,” Legend says, shakily. “We’ve got this handled. You focus on not dying.”

Any other time Wild would laugh and tease the vet about his blatant caring. But all he can focus on is the pleasantly numb feeling that has begun to spread throughout his body, and how warm Twilight’s embrace is as he scoops him carefully off of the ground. His eyes slip closed of their own accord. Before he even realizes what is happening, the darkness swallows him and he is gone.

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