#and feeling physically sick with nausea and the back of my throat being in pain like i have strep

[kerosene-saint]

I do not feel good

[bubblegumgothglados]

This is my RACK focused judgment free primer for heavy impact play. It covers every part of the body from head to toe and at no point does it say you can’t do something just the risks of doing so. I don't normally put warnings on my posts but most of my writing is fantasy, this isn't. I'm going to talk about any number of painful deaths and heaps more ways of becoming disabled.

In this primer "you" means the one doing the hitting, "victim" is the one being hit, and "tool" is the thing you're hitting with which could be a fist, foot, hammer, bat, anything. I'm writing it this way because its fun for me.

This primer also assumes you know the different types of impacts and how they affect the body, if you don't go look at my other writings.

Finally i take no responsibility for anything you do. All this information is what i could put together from medical journals and car crash reports if I've got anything wrong (and you can prove it) please let me know.

Enjoy

Head. With hits to the head, the two major concerns are concussions and neck injuries. A concussion occurs when a person’s brain impacts with the inside of their skull, this happens because the brain is suspended in fluid so if the skull stops or starts moving suddenly the brain will move out of sync with the skull. Symptoms of concussions can include headaches, confusion, lack of coordination, memory loss, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, ringing in the ears, sleepiness, and excessive fatigue. If your victim lost consciousness for any length of time and is having trouble speaking or understanding your words, you need to get them to the ER. There is no cure for a concussion but the best treatment is pain medication and activities that won’t tax the brain to give it time to recover. There are any number of ways to damage a neck, but generally it happens when a person’s neck is moved suddenly and violently or pushed past its limit. Minor injuries should heal by themselves within a few weeks but if unlucky pain and stiffness can last months or even years. For more major injuries, physical therapy or a neck brace might be necessary but only if the pain lasts longer than a few weeks. It’s also possible to hit someone hard enough to break their neck or fracture their skull but that takes a lot of force. All of these injuries can be avoided by supporting your victim’s head and neck by bracing their head against a surface or holding their head with your hand.

Jaw. It takes surprisingly little force to dislocate a jaw, you can do so with a good slap Dislocations are talked about in Note 3 at the bottom of this primer. Heavy bleeding from gums or a tooth that feels loose could indicate a fractured root. This is a fairly minor issue and if you see a dentist quickly they should be able to fix it back in place with no lasting damage. A tooth that has been knocked out completely should survive; get your victim to rinse their mouth out and rinse the tooth off and shove it back into the gap, and then have them see a dentist to make sure it’s properly seated and avoid chewing with it for a while.

Eyes. A fun combination of fragile and complicated. There's no first aid tips I can give you and it'll be real obvious if something is wrong. I will say you don't have to hit someones eye to give them a black eye, it’s bruising around the eye socket that matters. Also check Note 1 about the use of ice when treating injuries.

Nose. It’s more difficult than you think to break a nose. You definitely can with a good punch but you'll have to really commit. A broken nose isn't that serious (I've broken mine twice now) and isn't even ER worthy. If your victim is leaning backwards after breaking their nose the blood will run down the back of their throat potentially making them vomit or very sick. There is a chance a broken nose will heal in a way that restricts breathing in which case your victim may need surgery.

Cheek bone. Below the temple but above the gum line, running from just bellow their ear to their nose. Special mention to this spot because it’s the best place to hit your victim in the head (in my opinion). This piece of bone is very sturdy and not that risky to fracture. Plus, when you hit them here they have to watch it coming.

Neck. The windpipe, jugular, cranial nerves, vagus nerve, carotid arteries, and spine all live here and damage to any of these can cause permanent disability or death. Seek medical attention if your victim has trouble breathing or swallowing, or a lot of pain or swelling. Stingy tools are far less risky here than thuddy tools.

Shoulders. Note 2 on joints. The shoulder blades can either be an ideal impact location or one of the most risky depending on how it’s sitting. If the shoulder blade is jutting out away from the rest of the back, it’s very easy to damage If it’s laying flat against the back, it’s protected by a thick layer of fat and muscle.

Biceps. Top 4 impact location. The main concern is damaging the elbow and shoulder joints, if hitting in a way that will pull on those joints. Much like with the head, bracing the impact area against a surface will minimize the risk. Repeated hits to this area can temporarily disable the arm, which is fun.

Forearm. As above, the main risk is damaging the adjoining joints. There are also several important blood vessels and nerves running through this area and not a lot of fat an muscle to protect them.

Hands. Very little fat or muscle, mostly tendons, nerves, and cartilage. See Note 2 on joints. Special note to the palm, which hurts like hell but is relatively safe because of the extra muscle and fat in that area, great for punishment. Once again, stingy tools are much less risky than thuddy tools.

Breasts/ biceps. Top 4 impact locations. Thick layers of fat, muscle, and bone protect anything vital.

Sternum. That is the bone running down the center of a person’s chest that connects to their ribs. Not in itself very fragile but the cartilage that connects it to the ribs is easily damaged and will take a long time to heal. A fractured sternum will likely cause shortness of breath and pain when taking deep breaths. There's not much to be done about these injuries just rest and avoiding strenuous activity.

Spine. The single most risky impact location. Any damage to the spine risks permanent paralysis of everything below that point. As ever, stingy tools present less risk than thuddy tools.

Rib cage. Designed to protect a person’s most vital organs, the rib cage is very strong. Fractured ribs will cause pain breathing but aren't particularly serious. Snapped ribs can pierce organs If this happens, it'll be immediately obvious and medical intervention is required to prevent painful death. Special note to the 'floating' ribs at the bottom of a persons rib cage which don't connect to the sternum and are therefore much less resilient. Second special note to the spot right above a persons heart. A significantly hard impact at exactly the wrong moment in their cardiac cycle can stop their heart. They will loose consciousness and you will need to give them CPR until they can be defibrillated. This is ridiculously unlikely but better to mention just in case.

Abdomen. If you feel around your victim’s belly, you can figure out the line where their abdominal muscles sit. If you have them tense these muscles, you can hit them fairly hard with relatively little risk because the muscles plus the fat in that area create a thick layer of protection. (Pro tip: "Stay tense or this will might kill you" is not only true but hot and terrifying). Outside of that area or if they don't tense, there's real risk of bruising or even rupturing their intestines, which carries a 50-70% survival rate depending on how quickly you can get them to the ER. Symptoms to look out for are bloating, diarrhea, loss of appetite, and fatigue. Special note to the kidneys, which sit next to the backbone just below the rib cage and are very easily bruised. The primary symptom to look for is blood when peeing. As always, stingy tools carry less risk than thuddy tools.

Gluteus maximus. That's their butt. Hit it as hard as your victim will let you. Enough has been said about this region; I don't feel the need to recover that ground. Note 4 on bruises.

Genitals. I'm not going to get into CBT, that's a separate kink. But the vagina is very durable as it’s pretty much just flesh and fat on the outside Minimal risk, go to town.

Thigh. Top 4 impact location. Outer thigh will hurt more and bruise more. As with the head and arms, the primary risk is damaging the adjoining joints. Note 4 on bruises because this is the primary place for DVT.

Calf. As above. Shins are also a great location for punishment because they hurt like hell.

Feet. Very similar to hands. The soles of a person’s foot are intended to impact with the ground frequently and with some force, so they can take a fair bit of punishment.

Note 1. Ice. It is no longer suggested injury procedure to use ice to reduce swelling. Yes, it is effective at reducing swelling but we now understand swelling is an important part of the healing process and although ice might make it feel and look better in the short term, it actually increases the amount of time the injury will take to heal. You want the blood to be able to flow to the injury to take away dead cells and bring nutrients and energy.

Note 2. Joints. Neck, spine, shoulders, elbows, wrists, fingers, hips, knees, ankles, and toes. The reason these are almost always labeled "red" or "no go" on impact play body maps is because these are choke points for blood vessels and nerves; they are made of fragile tendons and cartilage, and they have very little padding for protection. They're also important for movement day to day and very difficult to heal properly. If a joint is damaged, you can buy braces for every joint from most pharmacies.

Note 3. Dislocations. If you're lucky, a partial dislocation will relocate by itself if you move the joint around as you normally would, not forcing it or trying to manipulate it with your hand, just moving it with its own muscles. If it does naturally relocate but you still have pain a few weeks later seek a medical professional. If you're unlucky or if it’s a total dislocation, you will have to see a medical professional. DO NOT TRY TO FORCE IT BACK INTO PLACE!

Note 4. Bruises. Normally, bruises are nothing to worry about but there are situations where a deep bruise can be a health concern. If the bruise continues to get worse after a week, there could be a hematoma under the skin, which is like a blood clot, and might need to be removed. The other possible complication is Deep Vein Thrombosis, which is a blood clot and can be lethal, if not treated quickly. With DVT, the symptoms are tenderness, warmth, and a "pulling sensation" which are pretty normal impact play symptoms. But if you're doing impact play at the level that could cause DVT, then you and your victim should know their healing process intimately, so if something feels off or isn't healing right, get them to a medical professional; better safe than dead.

[strniohoeee]

Dolor

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader💌

Synopsis: Y/N can sense that Chris and hers relationship might not last. When they talk will they work it out, or call it quits?🫂

Warnings⚠️: None, I was just feeling a sad Chris imagine today 🥹 shit lowkey made me tear up….it do be hitting home

Song for the imagine: Changes- XXXTENTACION

You’re changing, I can’t stand it

My heart can’t take this damage

And the way I feel, can’t stand it

Everyone knew….everyone saw it, but I chose to ignore it. Not wanting to come to terms with how Chris and I’s relationship was truly going. We were dating for two years at this point, and it just wasn’t the same. Chris was no longer mine….we just weren’t meant for each other.

This started within the last 2 months, Chris just started being different, and I feel like we almost grew apart? I was always with him and his brothers, but it just wasn’t right I wanted us to go back to normal? I’m not sure what I wanted honestly

It really started to make me question what was going on between us when their fans started commenting on their videos, their posts, my posts….making edits, and assuming things about our relationship. It made me physically sick….if it was clear as day to their fans why couldn’t I just come to terms with it?

There wasn’t any anger towards one another, but there just wasn’t any of that love we used to have….our honeymoon phase was finally over, 2 years later….. I just couldn’t let Chris go. He was all I had…he was all I ever wanted, but I knew it was coming soon.

I knew Chris was going to break up with me at some point. As a woman you just know when a man no longer has interest in you, and it broke my fucking heart.

Currently I was at the triplets house, and I just sensed this vibe from Chris all day. He was constantly in thought and anxious, and it made me sick to my stomach. I know what he was thinking, what he was plotting, how he wanted to go about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him. I wasn’t sure if his brothers knew because it didn’t seem that way, but man I have never wanted to disappear more than in this moment.

I was watching Chris in the kitchen pacing back and forth, deep in thought. God I hated this, he was so unhappy with our relationship, and trying to make it work, and here I was dragging him along forcing him to do something he doesn’t want to.

Chris had finally walked down to his room, but before going down he looked over at me…..no emotions, no smile, no warmth, his eyes looked saddened and burdened like he was fighting himself to talk to me. I looked into his eyes, and looked away. I couldn’t sit here and hurt myself

About five minutes later my phone vibrated with a text from Chris

My Baby🐣

-Hey, could you come to my room I want to talk

My heart sank…I felt a lump in my throat begin to form. I just wished in that moment I was not in this position, that I didn’t know Chris, and that I didn’t put myself through this for two years.

Reluctantly I got up, telling Nick and Matt I was going down to talk to Chris. I headed down the steps and walked to his room….not wanting to enter, but I took a deep breath and walked in shutting the door behind me

He was sitting on his bed with his head in his hands…make this stop….take this pain away from us

I sat down next to him hoping he’d start talking first. I felt this overbearing feeling of nausea

“I’m so sorry” he said finally looking up

“You don’t have to be…I know where this is going” I said looking over at him

“I just….I just think we shouldn’t be together anymore” he said finally looking at me

“I had a feeling” I said rubbing my lips together in anxiety

“I just feel like we’ve grown apart. I feel like what we had was amazing and I’ll cherish every moment. You were the best thing to happen to me in my whole life, and I love you so fucking much, but I just feel like we’d be better off separate” he said getting tears in his eye

“I should’ve known sooner when everything changed. I’m sorry for that, sorry for not allowing you to feel safe enough to come to me sooner, and express how you felt” I said to him allowing my eyes to get watery

“This isn’t your fault okay. We are humans you know, we grow apart, and although it may suck it’s what’s best for us” he said letting tears falls

“I just love you so much this is hard Chris” I said letting my tears fall too

“I love you so much, okay? I’m just not in love with you anymore” he said sniffling

My heart shattered at those words. The only guy I’ve ever loved, and he’s telling me he fell out of love with me

“I just don’t understand how we got here” I said wiping my nose

“It’s normal. People grow apart, relationships end that’s just how life works, and it’s not fair, but everything happens for a reason” he said wiping his nose

“I know Chris, it’s just hard I’ve loved you for so long, and now we will no longer be together” I said crying a bit harder

“I’m so sorry, I need you to know that you’re the woman I want to want. You have no idea how badly I want that to be you” he said looking down and shaking his head while crying

“I know…and that’s okay” I said in a whisper

“It’s just I’m going to keep pursuing what I’m pursuing, and you’ll be doing what you want, and we just won’t have time for each other, and this will cause us to resent each other. I’d much rather break it off now than to ever grow any form of hate in my heart for you, okay?” He said rubbing my back and crying with me

“Yes…yes I know, and I’m so glad that you’re doing what’s best for you, but this is going to be so fucking hard. I don’t know that I can let you go” I said breaking down even more, choking out broken sobs

“You will okay baby, you will hurt and so will I, but we’re both strong and we will be okay. We will survive this, and who knows it could be the right person at the wrong time. But without taking this break we will not know this” he said wiping his nose again

“I love you Chris. I love you so fucking much” I said sobbing

“I love you, and I will always love you. You will always be my number one girl. You will always be in my life no matter what, but for now we have to take this time away from one another” he said pulling me in to side hug him

“Yes Chris. We will be okay, I will be okay. I will keep it pushing for you. You will always have my heart, and I hope that you eventually see a future with me” I said hugging his arm that was wrapped around me

“But for now you have to let me go, you have to let me let you go. I need you to do that for me” he said pulling away

I leaned away, keeping my head down and nodding. I finally lifted my head up to look into his red eyes

“Okay I can do that for you” I said crying

“You will always be my girl okay. You are my life, and I love you so much” he said smiling at me

“You’ll always be my number one guy. I love you so much” I said smiling back at him

He pulled me in for a hug, and one last kiss

“I’m going to miss you” I said pulling away from him

“I’m going to miss you too, and I hope we’ll eventually cross paths. If you ever need me just know I’m here for you okay. I will always be just one call away. I hope in a few months time we can hang out again as friends” he said smiling at me

“I hope we cross paths too, and I hope we can continue this friendship in the future” I said wiping my eyes

“We will..I’m never not seeing you again” he said laughing a little bit

“I love you” I said looking into his eyes as I choked on my words a bit

“I love you too” he said giving me a reassuring smile

“Should we tell your fans? I won’t be in the videos or with you guys anymore” I asked him

“Only if you want to” he said

“I think we should. Maybe uh you can make a post about it tomorrow, and then I will too” I said nodding at him

“That’s fine with me” he said standing up from his bed

“Okay cool. I uh think we should tell Matt and Nick” I said

“Yeah we should” he said

We both left his room, and walked to the living room where Nick and Matt were.

“Hey guys” Chris said

“Hey you guys okay?” Matt asked

“Um yeah. We just wanted to let you know that we broke up” Chris said

“Oh…” They both said

“Uh yeah it’s for the best, and we’ve decided to full on break apart, so I’m going to be taking time away from you guys as a whole” I said to them

“We’re going to miss you so much” Nick said looking sad

“I’m going to miss you guys too, but maybe we’ll eventually see each other” I said trying not to cry

“We will. I hope nothing but the best for you guys” Matt said smiling at me

I looked at them before fully breaking down

“I love you guys so much, and please never forget me okay” I said crying

“We would never. We love you so fucking much” Nick said getting up and running over to hug me, Matt getting up and joining us in a group hug

We all pulled apart, teary eyed and sad

“I love you guys, and I’ll be seeing you soon. I’m going to head out now” I said wiping my eyes

“We love you, and always reach out to us for anything” Matt said

“I will. Thank you guys so much” I said waving at them

“I’ll walk you out” Chris said wiping his eyes

“Okay” I said giving him a weak smile

Chris walked me down to my car before giving me one last hug, and then he pulled away

“I guess this is bye for now” I said, unlocking my car, and sitting in it. Closing my door and turning the car on and rolling my window down

“It’s not bye, it’s see you later” Chris said wiping his tears again

I smiled at him putting my car in reverse

“I’ll see you later then Chris” I said to him slowly backing up

“I’ll see you around” he said trying to give me a reassuring smile

“See you” I said giving him one last smile before rolling up my window, and backing out his driveway, and then driving down the road

Leaving behind the man I’ve loved for two years, the man who was my everything. Just completely driving out of his life and potentially never seeing him again. Of course we would love to see each other again, but that could be 1 year from now or 10 years from now….I allowed myself to break down in my car. This was going to be so fucking hard.

The next day Chris and I decided that he would make the post and collab it with me, so I can share it as well, but he picked the picture and wrote the caption attaching the song see you later by Jenna Raine. He posted it and within minutes the comments and DM’s were flooding in. Our post getting shared and edits immediately being made. Nick and Matt even shared our post adding comments on it, and what to expect from them now that I’m no longer in the picture. So many people accepted our decision, and so many people were sad about us splitting. Most of his fans loved us, and they were so distraught.

I hadn't read the post yet I was scared to have to finalize this decision we made, but when I did I broke down immediately

❤️nicolassturniolo, matthew.sturniolo, sturniolo.triplets and 650,000 others

christophersturniolo: I have loved this girl for the past two years of my life, and I will continue to love her. We have decided to separate as it’s what’s best for us in this chapter of our lives. We will always love one another, and we hope that one day we cross paths again. Y/N may be the right person at the wrong time, and while we figure this out we’d really appreciate it if you guys respect our privacy. She will no longer be in our videos, and we want you guys to respect that decision we have made. We love you guys dearly❤️. But most importantly I love Y/N with my whole heart….she will always be my number one girl. Even though you didn’t make it to the end of my story, I’ll always have the corner folded down on your page; because it was one of my favorites. I love you Y/N🥀

This message broke me. I loved Chris so much, but I had to let him go. I hope to see him in the future.

The End

This was pure self indulgence and now I’m sad LMAOAO. But let me know if you liked this one 🥹🖤

-J💅🏽

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Drabble request (feel free to say no :) )

(Comic) due to the after events of the book, Ambrosius is in the hospital and feels horrible, physically and mentally, and the treatments they are giving him are making him sick and very anxious, so he asks ballister to visit him in hospital, and plays the whole “hopeless romantic” so that he stays and Ambrosius feels better, but ballister can see right through it, and doesn’t want to admit it, but he visits him anyways.

Yippieee!!! Loved this request as I'm working on a longer Ambrosius Hospital Fic rn \(^^)/

I currently still have one req still in the works because I'm struggling to get it started, but it is on it's way! Anyway I hope you enjoy this drabble :,)

-

Ambrosius groaned softly. He had no idea how long he'd been here. The doctors said it had been four days, but he didn't really believe that. The painkillers and heavy antibiotics– and maybe also the brain injury– made time melt together. All he ever really looked forward to were visits from Ballister. Ballister had visited him often when he was still hospitalized, but he was discharged at some point. 

Not like he had any reason to visit Ambrosius. Fuck. Everything was such dogshit. The Institution, the thing he dedicated his whole life to, was gone. The King to whom he swore allegiance was dead. Not that any of that mattered, he'd already been demoted to a grunt rank in the Institution because he fucked up at doing the only thing he was supposed to be good at. 

Nobody respected him. Nobody liked him. Certainly nobody loved him. And on top of that, he felt nothing but pain and nausea and confusion all the time. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to vomit, but he did it often. The antibiotics were tearing his guts apart. The beta blockers made him even more weak and exhausted than he was already. The painkillers disoriented him and didn't even seem to do much, and also worked together with the anticonvulsants to make him sick as a dog. He couldn't help but wish that Ballister had just left him in that facility to be disintegrated instantly.

Why did Ballister save him if he wasn't even gonna be here? Was it just to punish him? What was going to happen to him after all this? With no job, unable to walk, unable to see out of one eye, no home, he'd end up back on the streets. He was terrified and woke up crying constantly. He wanted his Ballister here. He wanted Ballister to hold his hand and kiss his forehead and tell him everything would be okay. As if he had any claim to Ballister at all. 

Eventually he couldn't take it anymore, and he weakly dialed the number in his phone.

–

Ballister had been a wreck ever since he was discharged. He felt guilty about Nimona and Ambrosius and the town and everything. He wanted to be there for Ambrosius, who at this point was all he had left, but in addition to the pain and mixed feelings he suffered whenever he was around, he feared his presence didn't even help. Whenever he sat with Ambrosius, the man looked so guilty and miserable he couldn't meet his eyes. Making Ambrosius feel like shit about himself certainly wouldn't aid in his recovery. Plus, being in hospitals was more than a little triggering for him. He didn't like to see the pain from the worst day of his life reflecting off Ambrosius's face.

But standing around this empty warehouse, without Nimona's snark or laughter, barely felt like anything either.

He jumped when his phone rang with Ambrosius's number. “Hello?” 

“Hiii…” the voice on the other end was weak. “I've missed you, darling.” 

Ballister cleared his throat. “Ambrosius, you should be resting.” 

“How can I possibly rest without you here? I'm sick and in dreadful shape, and the object of my affection isn't even here to distract me with his handsome face.” 

Blushing, Ballister looked down. More guilt, fun. Obviously he was high as a kite while also being at rock bottom. It was obvious what he was doing. He was playing it like he was being cute and flirty, but he was groveling. He was prone on the floor groveling for Ballister’s attention. For him to be there, to hold his hand.

“My darling, if only I could hear your voice and see your face, I certainly would feel better. If you're not busy, that is.” 

Ballister snorted. He never could resist Ambrosius's begging. 

He arrived at the hospital an hour later, and he swore a blue light flickered behind Ambrosius's eye when he saw him. “You came!” He smiled as broadly as he could without ripping the stitches in his cheek. 

“Of course, I couldn't leave my… my beloved gentleman caller all by himself, could I?” He smiled and took his hand. Ambrosius squeezed it.

“I'm happy you're here.” His voice was exhausted. His face said so many things his mouth couldn't.

Ballister stroked his hair. “I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to be afraid.”

“If I go to sleep, will you stay? Will you hold my hand until I wake up?” 

A lump caught in Ballister's throat. “Of course I will.”

[caspersickfanfics]

Late Arrival Chapter 3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack (described in detail), vomiting, fever, hospital mention, bad jokes

A/N:

Written for @monthofsick day 24: Panic ! It feels good to finally finish a multi-chapter fic for once, even though it's a bit short =v=

“–nari. Tighnari.” The earth is shaking. It’s warm. Comfortably warm for a moment, and then too much. He squirms. “Tighnari!” Oh, Cyno is shaking him. Cyno is warm. Cyno is—

“Please,” Cyno’s voice wavers. “I need to throw up.”

Tighnari bolts upright. Cyno is sick.

The forest watcher is still half asleep as he forces himself out of the bed. His head is pounding. A result of lack of rest, probably, combined with the incessant city noise, but his priority is getting the trash can to Cyno, and he manages it.

His ears flatten at the immediate sound of the bin being filled.

There are multiple waves, this time. They run in cycles. Cyno’s body tenses, hunches forward, and then with a sick gurgle, rancid smelling liquid gushes from his mouth and nose. Tighnari stands beside him and holds a mass of hair out of the way. It’s thick, and heavy with sweat. His own hands are shaking.

Something heavy sits uncomfortably in his stomach. A bubbling nausea rises in his throat, not from illness, but stress. Being woken so jarringly from such a deep sleep and days of exhaustion has left him reeling, strung out and achy.

He watches Cyno panting, head hung over the trash, and the tightness in his heart manifests into physical pain. It must be nearing 48 hours since anything’s actually stayed in Cyno’s system. His body looks thinner than it did even a day ago. He coughs, and Tighnari can easily see the outline of his ribs when his stomach contracts yet again. There’s another splatter, quickly followed by two more. Tighnari has never been squeamish, but right now the worry feels like a rampage in his gut.

Empty, Cyno leans back to catch his breath, melting into the pillows behind him. Tighnari sets the soiled trash can back on the floor. He brushes a thumb over Cyno’s cheek, catching some wetness and wiping it away, watching the sick man smile and nuzzle into his hand. He looks ill, certainly, but relaxed. Comfortable, even. Tighnari’s tail wilts between his legs and his chest squeezes impossibly further. He doesn’t want to take that from him - he doesn’t want to take anything from Cyno, and definitely not this - but a sense of safety is good for nothing if it’s only an illusion. When Tighnari finally speaks, he feels very far away.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he confesses quietly. Cyno cracks an eye open. Tighnari inhales unevenly. “I think… we should go to the Bimarstan.”

At the suggestion, Cyno goes rigid. He stares at Tighnari with some awful mix of shock, betrayal, confusion, and hurt. At the center of it all, a trembling and raw fear, the kind that makes him look far younger than his age.

“Tighnari–” Cyno speaks roughly, like it was hard for him to find his voice, and it cracks upon the single word. He’s gone ashen and bug-eyed. Tighnari melts with a sigh, sagging onto the bed and dropping his forehead to Cyno’s shoulder.

“I know.” Because he does, to a certain extent. There are few things that instill fear into the General Mahamatra, let alone to this degree. Tighnari takes Cyno’s hand in his own and stares at it. He can’t stand the sight of his partner’s pained expression any longer. “I know,” he repeats quietly. “I’m just not sure that I can help you on my own this time.”

“Tighnari. I’ll be fine.” Cyno sounds reassuring. He sounds like he believes his own words. “You’re helping. I feel better already.”

Maybe he does believe it. Tighnari can’t read minds. But he can hear Cyno’s heartbeat and it has the speed and intensity of a cornered animal. Cyno isn’t a liar - and yet, anyone can bend the truth or tiptoe around it, especially when fear is involved.

“I’ve been through worse,” Cyno says, his voice pleading for Tighnari to cave. Instead, his hands shake harder. Cyno looks… Frail. The word comes to mind and punches the oxygen out of him. His own heart pounds and there’s a rushing white noise in his ears that drowns out everything else.

“I don’t… know what to do,” Tighnari grates out. His breaths are coming too short and quick, but the harder he tries to gasp in oxygen, the more his chest hurts. He stands and his tail swishes restlessly, brushing against the floor. Cyno squeezes his hand.

“I promise,” he says. “I promise I’ll be okay, Tighnari. I don’t break promises.”

“I know you don’t.” And he does, except… “I’ll be right back. Stay here, Cyno. Please.”

Tighnari doesn’t wait for a response. He wrenches his hand away and stumbles out of the bedroom, and then out of the front door. He doesn’t make it much further than that.

He can’t.

It crosses Tighnari’s mind that he’s gasping quite loudly, to the point of nearly wheezing, and that Cyno can probably hear him; if he could claw his way further from the building, he would. The last thing he needs is to cause more stress for his partner. But his legs simply refuse to hold him, and he’s shaking from the tips of his ears to the end of his tail. He has to blink dark spots from his vision - there is simply not enough oxygen to appease his greedy lungs.

His entire chest feels like both a pulsing bruise and a stab wound and Tighnari grapples with a sort of fury, a rage at his own body’s failure at such an inopportune time. He’s managed to betray both himself and Cyno in one sitting. His left arm begins to tingle and go numb, and Tighnari wonders whether he’s being dealt some form of divine punishment in the form of heart failure. 

He can reason with himself, at least, enough to recognize that this is unlikely. Teyvat’s medical research has yet to discover a definitive way to distinguish between issues of the heart and of the mind, but Tighnari is aware that he’s quite healthy and still significantly younger than the average age of those afflicted with heart problems. Meanwhile, he’s familiar with the mind’s way of tricking the body, if only from having comforted Collei through more panic spells than he’d care to recall. 

But then - there are exceptions to every rule. This feels more painful than Collei has ever articulated, and counting his breaths doesn’t seem to be helping in the way it does with her. Instead he ends up coughing, choking on the very air that’s meant to bring him life. He could be an exception, something could be wrong and Tighnari wouldn’t know because he isn’t a doctor. Every time Tighnari tries to push the worry away, the fear seems to grow. If he dies here, then Cyno…

His stomach lurches. Tighnari whimpers and tugs at his hair, his ears, in some attempt at grounding himself. His tail wraps around his body instinctively as he retches. With his hearing enhanced as it is, Tighnari’s heartbeat is a constant source of white noise in his periphery, but now it sounds like thunder. He clutches at his chest and feels pathetic.

If nothing else, he can be grateful that Cyno’s apartment building is tucked into an alley and away from the busier streets of the city. It’s still loud, but at least the likelihood of some stranger spotting him in such a miserable state is lower. Tighnari is doubly appreciative of this fact when he begins throwing up. Hot vomit scalds his throat and sprays violently beneath a decorative bush. Tighnari is all but frozen on his hands and knees while his body continues to empty itself. By the time he regains control of his stomach, Tighnari can barely think.

The nausea, at least, has abated. He crawls pitifully away from the pool of puke and leans against the solid stone walls of the building. Tighnari clings to his tail, hands brushing through it in a repetitive, soothing motion, and forces himself to pause. He has a near overwhelming urge to rush back into the apartment and check on Cyno - archons, he’s been gone too long - but he must first take stock of his body. If he doesn’t, he risks scaring them both. 

So, slowly, Tighnari does a mental intake of his current state. His muscles ache, but the pain is gradually diffusing, no longer so centralized to his chest. His breathing is shaky but finally effective, and while his heart is racing, it doesn’t hurt, nor does it sound so impossibly loud. He’s still shaky and his legs feel weak, and of course, his head continues pounding. Whether or not he can stand is a question he can’t answer until he’s testing it out, unsteadily managing to get his feet underneath him.

When Tighnari staggers his way back to the bedroom, Cyno is right where he left him, awake and looking devastated. He may have followed his partner’s instructions, but that clearly didn’t stop him from hearing everything. “Tighnari.” Cyno reaches for him immediately. Tighnari shuffles over, feeling dazed and embarrassed. His ears are still ringing. Cyno doesn’t comment on the way the hand Tighnari offers shakes, only shifting slightly to gently cup it in both of his own. They are warm and calloused, and so, so gentle. 

“I’m sorry,” Tighnari rasps, because he hadn’t meant to be gone for so long, and maybe he shouldn’t have left. He shouldn’t have fallen apart at all. He tries not to think too hard about the fact that he still doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t remember crying, but Cyno wipes some wetness from under his eyes. Tighnari feels his cheeks heat up and looks away, whispering again, “Sorry.”

Exhaustion hits him like a physical force, and he drops onto the bed, staring down at the way their hands intertwine. Cyno tugs him closer, and and Tighnari allows himself to rest on his partner’s chest. His heartbeat is steady now. A regular old life-force. His fingers move to card through Tighnari’s hair, and then to scratch his ears in a way that shakes out some of their tension. When Tighnari eventually musters the strength to look up, Cyno is watching him intently. His expression is steady and determined, and Tighnari knows what he’s going to say before the words leave his mouth. 

“I’ll go,” he says, and Tighnari aches because bravery is so integral to Cyno’s being. It’s something he learned so young and has had to rely on far more than is fair. “I’ll go to the Bimarstan,” he reiterates, and his voice is calm enough that if T didn’t have the ears that he does, he wouldn’t have even heard it waver.

He’s not going to make Cyno go there. 

Not yet. 

He realizes it all at once, as though just knowing that it’s an option, that Cyno won’t resist if it is needed, is enough to rebuild Tighnari’s confidence in his own abilities.

“Thank you,” Tighnari says, and Cyno tenses, probably steeling himself to follow through on his words. Tighnari is sure, now, that he would if it was asked of him, but he shakes his head. “I think– well, I may have overreacted a bit,” he admits.

Cyno watches him carefully as Tighnari continues. “Your fever feels better now than when I left, and you slept most of the night, which means some of the nutrients have stayed with you.”

“So,” Cyno’s voice is tentative. Tighnari nods, urging him onward. “I guess you could say I’m hereling for you.”

Tighnari groans. He can’t help it. “You’re–”

“Here-ling, like healing, and “here for you.” Get it?”

“Cyno,” Tighnari scolds. “Not the time.”

His partner shrugs, unaffected. “I think it was funny.”

Tighnari pulls away with a kiss to Cyno’s knuckles. He’s not actually upset; if anything, he still feels apologetic. But worry continues gnawing at his insides, so he gathers a few things from the kitchen before returning to Cyno’s side.

“Okay,” he says, holding up a glass. “This has some hydro-infused nutrients in it - they should be tasteless, and it’s meant to be rehydrating. I actually haven’t used them before,” Tighnari murmurs. “So although they come from a trusted colleague, if you feel anything odd after consuming this, let me know.”

Cyno nods and reaches for the glass. Unsurprising. Now that Tighnari’s offered him a way out of the Bimarstan, he’ll be content to try anything. Tighnari pulls the glass away just slightly.

“Cyno. This is important.” When he swallows, his throat is dry. “This goes not just for the drink - you’re not out of the woods yet with this ailment. If you start feeling worse, I need you to let me know. Can you promise that?”

The matra has gone still, listening quietly. When Tighnari finishes speaking, Cyno keeps looking at him attentively.

“Are you okay, Tighnari?”

The question makes his legs weak. No, he’s not, and Cyno can see straight through him. There’s an unsettling battle between the tension still running through Tighnari’s veins and the weight of his exhaustion, and his headache has only intensified. He allows himself the luxury of rolling into the bed beside his partner before responding with a sigh. 

“I’ll be fine,” he says, tempted to leave it at that. But honesty is a two-way street. “I’m tired and that makes me nervous that I won’t— I might not notice if something is really wrong. You seemed so much better earlier, and I had just convinced myself that you were fine.”

“I felt fine earlier.” Cyno reaches for the medicine and drinks it slowly. “And I feel better now. But I meant what I said: I can see a doctor. Especially if it will make you feel better.”

Tighnari’s heart swells. He waits patiently for Cyno to rest the glass on his nightstand, and then wraps his arms around him. He’s still sick and sweaty and warmer than he should be, and once he’s healed, he’ll have to regain some of his muscle mass. But Cyno still manages to feel strong when he returns the embrace.

“I trust you,” Tighnari says, squeezing a bit tighter, tucking his head under Cyno’s chin. “If you say you feel better, I believe you. I just need you to keep being honest. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you because I didn’t realize I wasn’t doing enough.”

“Okay,” Cyno says. “I promise, Tighnari. I won’t lie to you.”

The words are probably more than he needed to say; Tighnari already knew this much. And yet, his body relaxes upon hearing them.

He doesn’t sleep for a long while. Cyno drifts off, still recovering, and Tighnari plays with his hair. Some of his restless energy begins to fade, but he’d rather watch his partner sleep peacefully than close his eyes. It’s a relief when the matra stays that way for multiple hours. When he wakes up, Tighnari is alarmed, briefly, and ready to reach for the trash can in the event of repeat from earlier. But Cyno only smiles lazily, yawns, and starts tracing gentle lines on Tighnari’s back. It’s soothing. Tighnari’s muscles complain as they loosen and readjust, but it isn’t the worst feeling. He fights against heavy eyelids until he hears Cyno chuckle.

“You can rest,” he says. “I’ll wake you if I need anything, Nari.”

Tighnari scrunches his face up, still resistant. It doesn’t feel right, and yet…

“I promise,” Cyno says. Tighnari doesn’t need anything to verify the truth to his words, but he listens closely anyway. Between the sound of one steady heartbeat and the next, Tighnari finally allows himself to drift off.

———

If you enjoyed the fic, feel free to let me know by replying directly to this post, by sending me an ask, or by sharing your thoughts with me privately and anonymously through this survey! Thank you so much for reading!!

[jaeyleo]

LOCKS OR KEYS PART 10

YOU CHOSE: SEND PINK TO HENRIK’S HOUSE

NEW OBJECTIVE: BE GOOD FOR PSEUDO

Chase has been pushed to the back of the mind, you are now playing as Pink. His goals are to be as obedient as possible. What are yours?

Masterlist.

Tag list (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @skid-row-seymour @welcome-to-the-whumpfest @the9645archives

CWS: hypnotized whumpee, brainwashed whumpee, captivity whump, two caretakers (one being non human), mentions of a non human whumper, mentions of injuries and torture, scars, let me know if i should add more! also my apologies if there’s mistakes, its so late and i almost lost it to the tumblr void ;-;

. . .

Pink’s mind swims with hypnosis. Dizzy eyes blink open to stare at the ceiling, a groan suppressing the nausea in his stomach. Everything in his body aches and burns and weeps in agony, but he cant be bothered with the physical discomfort. All he can remember is Pseudo’s test for his loyalty, and wonder where he is now. When he gets to go home.

His eyes fall from the ceiling to the dresser in front of him. He’s in a bedroom, and he’s tucked into bed, but he isn’t sure who it belongs to. He keeps observing the room for more answers, turning his head to find a man sitting at the side of the bed.

He startles, breath stopping in his chest. He tries to sit up, but his injuries implore him to stay laying on his back.

“It’s alright,” the stranger coos. “You’re safe, Chase. You’re safe now.”

Pink frowns hearing his old name. Is he in trouble with the stranger, too?

He wants to correct the name, tell the stranger that he’s got it wrong. For a while he just stares, more occupied with feeling something familiar with the stranger. Something in his voice, or maybe its his face. He feels a pit in his chest, like he loves this stranger, or did love him. Tears blur his eyes and the stranger reassures him again that it’s alright.

Pink shakes his head. He wants to ask where Pseudo is, but the thought is drowned. He hears laughter in the back of his mind. Fondness and hugs and wrestling and this stranger teaching him how to play chess. He feels empty spaces in his head where memories used to be. The tears spill over his cheeks and he covers his face, feeling a deep, horrible ache inside his heart. He loved this stranger. He cherished this stranger. He missed this stranger. But why can’t he remember who he is?

The man beside him leans closer, holding his hand and trying to pull him out of his crying spell. Pink wants to open his eyes to look at him, but the thought of feeling that ache again makes him sick.

Who is he? Who is he?

“Chase,” comes the stranger’s voice, firm and guiding. “Look at me.”

A string is pulled. The puppet obeys the command, and his lip quivers as the pain stabs into his chest. He wants to look away, but he can’t.

“You’re safe. You are safe. Breathe.”

Pink obeys. He tries to breathe, tries to look, but it hurts.

“Who are you?” Pink whimpers. He shakes like a leaf, hands coming up to cover his face. He leaves a crack in his fingers for his eyes, as the stranger hasn’t told him he can look away yet.

The stranger frowns, deep and grieving.

“Henrik. I am your friend.”

Pink feels another wave of ache hit his chest. He cries into his hand, staring into Henrik’s piercing green eyes. He feels so much love and so much hurt in the same breath.

“Henrik?”

The doctor nods. Oh! Doctor! Henrik is a doctor, Pink remembers that.

“Im- I’m h- having trouble remembering who you are,” Pink starts, and Henrik nods. He understands. “But I know I love you.”

Henrik bows his head. Before he looks back up again, he wipes his eyes, and holds tight his old friend’s hand.

“I love you too, Chase,” he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He clears his throat to stop the shake in his voice from showing. “Can you tell me how you feel?”

“Scared,” Pink murmurs. He tries to sit up again, wincing as his friend gently pushes him back to the bed. He pulls the puppet’s hands from his face and wipes away his tears.

“Don’t be,” he replies, holding Pink’s hand awfully tight. The puppet doesn’t mind the pressure of it. “You don’t have to be afraid here. Not anymore.”

The puppet shakes his head. His voice breaks when he speaks.

“I need Pseudo.”

The two friends frown, but for different reasons. There is a heavy grief that weighs down the air, seeping into the walls, bleeding out of their minds. Henrik stiffens in his discomfort with the statement.

“…Do you remember who Marvin is?” the doctor tries to change the subject.

The puppet breathes, searching his brain for a face to tie to the name. It comes much easier than Henrik’s did, because he looks just like Pseudo.

“Ps… Pseudo’s brother?”

“Yes, yes. Very good.” Pink seems to calm down with the praise. “He is going to heal your injuries.”

The calm goes away again.

“No,” the puppet shakes his head. “No, I deserved it, he- he can’t..”

“Why would you deserve this?”

“Because I— I tried to leave him,” Pinks voice comes out weak and whining, threatening another spill of tears. “I was bad, bad, bad.”

“No, Chase. Especially not for escaping.”

“No,” Pink says, to everything Henrik just told him. It’s all wrong. Chase is wrong, thats not his name. Escape is wrong, that implies Pseudo was bad. His breath picks up in his chest and his heart thumps louder behind his ribs.

“You don’t understand, you don’t understand-“

The doctor shakes his head. “Chase-“

“Pink!” The puppet smacks his own mouth for yelling. That’s what Pseudo would’ve done. “My name is Pink..” he mumbles behind his hand.

Henrik just breathes. He’s overwhelmed his friend, overwhelmed himself. Chase isn’t the same man anymore.

“…. You want me to call you Pink?”

The puppet nods. It sounds like venom coming from Henrik, like each letter is another fang for the snake to bite with. Why does he hate it?

The doctor just squeezes his friend’s hand. “Okay.. lets focus on one thing at a time, yes? Okay?”

Pink nods, allowing the doctor to remove his hand from his mouth.

“Okay…. Even though you think you deserve them, you can’t keep these wounds.”

Pink opens his mouth to protest, but Henrik holds up a finger to silence him.

“Do you want to walk around?”

Pink nods.

“Do you want to eat? Get dressed?”

Pink nods, and nods again when he realizes he’s only wearing boxer shorts under the blanket. Henrik’s finger comes down to his side again.

“Then you will let Marvin heal you. Okay?”

Pink frowns. This doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t know what to say, so he stays silent.

Henrik takes it as agreement and tries to relax again. He checks his phone, types something in with his free hand, and sets it back in his pocket. A few moments later, a soft knock is heard at the bedroom door. The doctor gives his friend a reassuring pat on the hand and ventures to open it.

Pink feels many things seeing Marvin come inside.

First, the comfort of his familiar face. It is nearly identical to Pseudo’s, with the only differences being their scar placement, eye colors, and lengths of hair. While Pseudo’s is short and black with a white streak, Marvin’s grows long past his shoulders in deep black waves, stopping just before his navel. It’s a bit unkempt, but still shining and smelling of the flowers and dirt adorning his garden. As for their eyes, Pink has no trouble picturing the soft brown of his beloved caretaker. Marvin’s are glassy and pale, with irises and pupils that almost blend into his sclera. He was blinded a long time ago, with scars to show how.

After the comfort of recognition, Pink feels afraid. He doesn’t want his injuries to be taken away. He doesn’t deserve that. On top of that, Marvin feels like an old friend and a stranger at the same time, similar to Henrik. It’s confusing, overwhelming, and makes him miss Pseudo that much more.

Henrik closes the door behind him, and sighs a breath of… Pink can’t quite tell with the lack of expression on his face.

“Hi, Chase,” Marvin greets softly. His voice is soothing and low toned, in contrast to the bouncing and playful Pseudo’s. “It’s good to have you here again.”

Pink pulls the blanket up higher to conceal his bare skin and bandaged wounds.

“Pink,” he replies, pathetic. “My- my name is Pink…”

Marvin nods. He steps a bit closer, hearing the shift in blankets again. Much like Pseudo, he can hear the beats of human hearts. The filling of air in lungs, the bubbling and breakdown of nutrients in the stomach, creaking of joints and pull of muscles. What’s loudest, now, is the anxiety that radiates off the puppet like heat to a well kindled fire. Marvin takes a deep breath, and stops a few inches from the bed.

“Pink,” he repeats. Henrik’s brow furrows in response, but the puppet seems pleased with the idea of his request being respected. “Do you remember who we are?”

The puppet looks at Henrik, who has yet to move from his crossed arms, furrowed brow stance. Then to Marvin, who is gentle, and warm, and patient.

“A little bit,” he replies. “A little, little bit.”

Marvin nods again, sitting down in the chair Henrik once occupied. Pink feels a little more relaxed.

“I’m sure Henrik told you what I’m here to do…” he says. He tilts his head when Pink whines about it, and the puppet sees Pseudo in his mind’s eye. Part of him wants to make Marvin angry to see if he’d hurt him like Pseudo does.

“Please don’t,” Pink wraps his arms around himself. “I need them…”

“Dear.. I don’t think you’ll enjoy your time here with all of those..”

“It doesn’t matter what I- what I would enjoy. Th- they were a punishment, and— and, and I need to keep them.”

Pink glances at Henrik. He grips his sleeve so tight his knuckles show white. His pupils are pinpricks in his eyes. Why is he so upset? Did Pink do something wrong? He’s being a bad puppet again, isn’t he?

“You don’t,” Henrik seethes. “You need to heal. Let Marvin help you.”

A string pulled. The puppet frowns. If Pseudo isn’t here to guide him, he should follow the word of someone else, shouldn’t he? Pseudo wouldn’t want him to stop being a puppet just because he’s gone. This is a test, after all, right?

“…Okay,” Pink obeys, pushing the blanket off of himself. The cool air pulls the goosebumps out of his skin.

“Could you take a deep breath, Pink?”

The puppet obeys another command from Marvin, pretending it’s Pseudo giving it to him. Once he breathes in, he is overcome with warmth.

Warmth, warmth, warmth. The burning agony that once chewed away at every wound on his body is lifted, replaced with a gentle, soothing sensation, and then nothing at all.

He feels lashes on his back smooth over, a hole in his tibia piece itself back together. Bruises on his wrists and ankles return to normal color, a mouth that once was scabbed with needle marks returns to something that doesn’t ache when he speaks. He feels all his punishments wash away, with only the memories left to prove them. Pink breathes out, sitting up without groaning in pain. It feels wrong and good at the same time.

“Thank you,” he says, despite his inner conflict. Pseudo taught him to be polite.

“You’re welcome, dear..” Marvin smiles softly at him. He leans in slightly, speaking a bit lower. “Now, how does getting some clothes and food sound?”

Pink wraps his arms around himself to cover some of his scars. Henrik won’t stop staring at them, and he looks angry. Pink doesn’t want him to be angry. He nods in response. “It sounds nice.. nice..”

Henrik finally breaks his gaze from the puppets carved skin to pull out clothes from the dresser. A pair of black sweatpants and a pair of grey shorts.

“Which one, Chase?”

Pink frowns. Why is he in trouble? He thought he was being good.

“Which one do you want me to wear?” Pink tries.

“I want you to pick.”

The puppet starts scratching at a scar on his arm. Pseudo doesn’t want him to make decisions, yet here, Henrik does. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to follow Henrik’s rules or Pseudo’s, Marvin’s rules or just try to escape. What’s part of the test and what isn’t??? What happens if he makes the wrong decision, if he’s supposed to make one at all???

Pink’s eyes water and he shakes again, eyes darting between his choices. Marvin steps in when he hears whats going on inside the poor puppet’s chest.

“Wear these,” he stretches out an arm to grab the first thing he feels in his hand, which is the black sweatpants. “Don’t they feel soft?”

Pink nods, trying to calm himself down by feeling the fabric. He looks at Henrik for reassurance, who gestures for him to put them on.

He stares at his friend while he slowly, slowly slides a leg inside. This. Feels. Wrong. He’s not supposed to get dressed by himself.

But he was given a command, and he must follow it. That’s what a good puppet would do.

Henrik doesn’t give him shirt options once the pants are on. Pink wears a grey shirt with a logo on the pocket that reads:

C. Barrens

Math and Science Dept.

Pink sighs in relief. He is dressed and following commands, and Henrik doesn’t look so angry anymore. If he keeps up this good behavior, maybe Pseudo will be back to get him soon.

“Let’s go downstairs,” says Henrik, extending a hand which Pink gladly takes.

. . .

The house feels familiar.

Pink recognizes the hallways as he passes through them. The faces in the pictures are blurry in his mind, but the shape of them tugs at memories buried. He sees a picture with three children, one with green eyes and dark hair like Henrik’s, the other two blue eyed and freckle faced like himself. Before he can focus too deeply on who they are, he is tugged off down the stairs, left to wonder who those little smiles belong to. Part of him wants to ask, while another warns of a grief he isn’t ready to face yet. He pushes their faces out of his mind as they approach the kitchen, which pours light in through the screen door to the backyard.

Marvin follows close behind them, a hand on the puppet’s elbow to ensure he doesn’t walk the wrong path.

“Sit,” Henrik says gently, letting go of Pink’s hand to venture to the counter. When he turns back, Pink is sitting on the floor, on his knees, staring up at him like a puppy waiting for a treat.

“Ah-“ the doctor’s face twists from the nothing to frowning and furrowed brows again, almost a cringe. It’s like Henrik only has two modes of expression, nothing, or unhappy. “Here, sit up here, my friend.”

Henrik pulls out a chair for Pink to sit in, and the puppet plants himself there without a second thought. His cheeks burn in embarrassment for following a command wrong, and he instinctively pulls at his hair to both punish himself and soothe the humiliation. Marvin sits diagonal to him to chat while Henrik fixes up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of strawberry milk. Pink smiles when its set in front of him, thanking his friend.

“Go ahead,” says Henrik, after Pink just stares longingly at his meal. “It’s okay, Ch… it’s okay. You can eat.”

“H- how? By myself?”

The doctor just stares at the puppet. “…Yes,” he finally says. “You can eat by yourself.”

Pink nods, and continues staring at his sandwich. With cautious hands, he picks up the food, and takes a bite.

Henrik nods in approval and the puppet takes it as a win. He takes another bite, and relaxes as the taste fills his mouth. Blackberry jam, his favorite!

Marvin stands and turns to the doctor. “Come talk with me,” he says. Henrik nods, then turns to his friend.

“We will be in the other room if you need anything. Don’t be afraid to say something.”

Pink thanks them, and his friends leave the room. He is left to hear their muffled voices for a few minutes. It isn’t until he hears his “in- trouble” name that he begins to focus on what they’re saying.

“She wants to bring the kids over.”

“No, no… he isn’t ready for that, Henrik. I don’t want to overwhelm him..”

“I don’t either. And I wouldn’t know how to explain to them why their dad is so different..”

Is Pink dad? Is Pink a dad?

“Dad, dad, dad,” Pink whispers to himself. He wants to take a sip of strawberry milk, but he wasn’t given permission, so he just takes a break from eating until he can ask. “Dad, dad, dad…”

It feels sad and warm to be called dad. He thinks about the freckled faces he saw in the hallway, and his heart aches. Did they call him dad?

Their talking soon comes to an end as Pink’s focus was spent too long trying to remember things he can’t. Things he shouldn’t. His friends come back into the kitchen, where both of them sit at the table to keep their puppet company.

. . .

When nighttime comes, Pink doesn’t want to sleep.

“What if Pseudo comes to bring me home?” Pink says, curled up on the couch while a movie plays in the background. Henrik tried to get him to pick one out of two games to play first, which sent him into a panic attack, so they ended up putting the tv on instead. Pink stopped thinking about why he was crying once the screen came to life with characters he watches with Pseudo all too often.

“He will not come here,” Henrik replies sternly. He sees the hurt in his friend’s eyes and softens, trying to hide the stress he’s feeling. He must not have puppets like Pseudo does.

“I will not force you to rest. If you want to stay up, you can stay up, yes?”

Pink nods in agreement, pleased to have yet another request granted to him.

“Thank you, Henrik.”

“No, no. You made-“ the doctor bites his tongue, stopping himself from saying what he was intending. Pink wonders what it was, but it would be rude to speak in between his keeper’s thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” Henrik finally says. “Let’s watch your movie, yes?”

“Okay.”

As time passes on, the two men grow more and more tired. Henrik refuses to sleep when Pink isn’t, but he won’t explain why. Another movie turns on when the first ends, and then another, and by the time the fourth movie is on, Henrik is fast asleep on the couch. It isn’t long before Pink follows, and the next time he opens his eyes, daylight pours in the windows.

It’s delicate and cool, as though the sun is just barely beginning to rise. Pink looks around the room to find no Henrik, and no Pseudo. A pang of disappointment makes him frown.

The puppet sits up to stretch, pleased yet guilty that he feels no pain in doing so. While keeping the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, Pink looks around the living room, observing, observing, observing. He hears muffled voices speaking in another room, and despite not having permission, he stands up from the couch. Henrik never really did say “stay,” so technically, he can move freely for now.

He wanders closer to the noise, while staying far enough away as not to alert Marvin of his presence. He finds that standing at the kitchen counter gives him the best earshot of what’s being said.

“He’s very hypnotized..” says Marvin. It’s harder to hear him with how quiet he talks. “It won’t work unless we can coax Chase back out of his mind.”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

“He has to want to fight for himself, too, Henrik. Otherwise we can only know Pink, and Chase is forgotten.”

“You can’t bring him out with magic? Or— or healing?”

“No. There is no reversing what Pseudo did. He has to make the decisions on his own… then I can help him come back.”

Pink’s brow furrows. He feels a heat in his chest, a pit in his stomach. Are they trying to being Chase back? He can’t let that happen. He has to obey Pseudo. This is his test, and he cannot fail. He wants to go home.

As his two friends continue their discussion- which leaves a sour taste in Pink’s mouth- a phone begins to vibrate on the counter. Pink looks down at it, instinctively following the noise.

“Stacey B.”

A picture of a blonde woman, smiling and sweet and beautiful. Pink gets butterflies just looking at her, oh, she’s gorgeous. He smells peaches and citrus and a bakery in Liverpool. Oh, God, and then the ache comes.

He looks at her and her pretty eyes, pretty face, pretty hair, and he feels like he should know who she is. So why doesn’t he?

The phone keeps ringing. No one seems to notice but Pink.

[nookishposts]

Hit Pause

I haven't been able to really write in some time and there are reasons. My life is on a pause for the next while, because my brain and body made me do it; I was not listening so they ganged up to make their point.

I was sitting at work one day, after a series of back-to-back respiratory viruses had left me physically depleted, and suddenly I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing. My mind went blank and the simplest tasks slipped away into a maze of confusion. It was scary. I went to see my primary care provider and together we began to untangle the knots that had choked me into a complete stop. She is a smart cookie and knew the right questions to ask. She also had had an eerily similar experience herself, for which I remain very grateful as it means she "gets" what I have a hard time explaining. Including the brutal self-recrimination part.

(I was raised in the era of the Protestant work ethic motto of "Suck it up Buttercup" meaning I went to work no matter what, without complaint because that's what was expected. Taking time off was akin to weakness, in mind and body and that was shameful. We didn't want to let our co-workers down, or miss a paycheck. In those days, employers had the same expectation and could find ways to fire a person they saw as "slacking" if it interfered with production. Thankfully, workplace laws are different now and workers are a bit more protected.)

There were a number of contributing factors. I'd said goodbye to the massage and reflexology practice that had sustained me for 27 years, and with which I had defined myself more than I realised. I/we had experienced a huge number of significant deaths over a period of 10 months, people who had been key figures in my life; family members, mentors, teachers, and contemporaries: I stopped counting after we hit 20. I had taken on a full time job with a health centre I believed in and had worked for previously in a part time capacity, a job that I was very pleased to get, but one that shifted constantly.

Repeated viruses tanked my immune system. I stopped sleeping more than a couple of hours a night and awakened choking on mucus and flailing from nightmares. My muscles and joints hurt and I didn't digest food properly, leaving me with constant nausea and poor nutritional uptake. I fought to get up and just kept trying to push through each dizzying day, but ended up calling in sick more and more often. I became anxious and angry at myself for feeling so vulnerable: because anger is easier than admitting fear. It bothered me deeply that my wonderful office mate and our exceptional manager kept having to cover my ass and that clients, volunteers, and programs were left waiting. Even my teeth were crumbling. From clenching everything back into my throat and lungs. And my soul.

And then I stopped being able to think at all, or remember the simplest things.

I went numb in order to cope.

Blood work revealed that my vitamin D stores were 20% of what they needed to be. I tan easily and figured I was getting enough D from being outside a lot on our micro-farm. Nope. Symptoms of D deficiency include: joint pain and swelling, muscle weakness, tingling and numbing of hands and feet, cognitive issues, disturbed sleep architecture, extreme fatigue and cramping muscle spasms. My practitioner was smart enough to order the test based on a hunch, and she was bang-on. Suddenly a whole lot of seeming unconnected symptoms made perfect sense. Its a slow cumulative deficiency. I am now taking 5 times the daily recommended dose of D and it's starting to make a difference after only a couple of weeks. It's going to take time to get me where I need to go. I am still not sleeping and hence undergoing Cognitive Behaviour Therapy for chronic insomnia. Medications don't work for this, it's a matter of re-setting the sleep drive with careful steps over time, and knowing that it gets worse before it gets better.

But my brain remained in overwhelm drive.

In a flash of inspiration I called my therapist from decades ago, to see if by some chance she was still practising and would agree to see me on zoom, to teach me some better coping strategies. She is, and she does, thank heavens! She knows me and we can skip the preliminaries and get right into things. She also dovetails really well with my primary care practitioner and they tag team me. Together they added to the list of official diagnoses, Compassion Fatigue, which I'd only dimly heard of. I had not had time to grieve and process between the deaths of loved ones, so a cumulative effect swamped me into feeling nothing at all. I was offered the analogy of hitting my thumb with a hammer...the pain is so extreme that you don't even feel it at first because your body goes into protective mode until you can catch up. It was also pointed out to me that I'd put a great deal of my creative and caring energies into a successful practice over 27 years and having to let it go had taken a significant piece of my identity with it. I'd specialised in working with people for whom massage had been challenging: people with body dysmorphia due to illness, trauma, size, scars, age, etc. I missed them. I missed listening, easing seized and painful muscles, and supporting others as they became more comfortable with themselves through patience and practice, one gentle , non-judgemental step at a time.

Which I now need to do for myself. Irony of ironies.

I am at that age where elders and contemporaries are getting sick and dying, it's a statistical inevitability. But these rapidly disappearing loved ones were not acquaintances, they were all people who had impacted my life significantly and helped form the person I am still becoming. They represent to some degree my history and my story. Even now, I find myself picking up the phone to call or text, or composing an email, forwarding a joke, needing to ask a question or seek advice from someone who has moved on to whatever comes after the death of the body. I can put the phone down, but I can't remove their names from my contact lists. Reminders and triggers are everywhere. Rather than fight or deny them, I try to allow them to be part of the shifting kaleidoscope that contributes to my new normal. Growth means change, and some of that means loss. I grieve not just for myself but for the families and friends of those key people. Too many, too quickly.

I have the luxury of medically-endorsed time off. EI sick benefits are coming soon. I have been instructed to rest, eat simply, not think too hard, just allow thoughts and feelings to surface without judgement or analysis. To doodle freely and bypass expectations. That's not easy for a usually over-busy brain like mine. I have to take my vitamins, not push myself, not make any big decisions for a while. Thankfully, my Beloved also gets it, and is gently supportive, watching me slowly return to the person she has lovingly invested so much in. The stony, stoic flatness I experienced was unnerving for her too. My body remains exhausted and unpredictable, my short term memory and word-finding skills still suck and I have to remind myself that it's okay to not be okay. Having met a couple of people who have been through something like this, really helps me feel validated in the amount time it will take to become well again. Regarding my employment work situation, I have been reminded : "Its not your job to take care of them. It's theirs." Okay.

If I am fortunate, I will get another 25-30 years on the planet and I want to spend them well, especially since they seem to go so fast. The last thing I want to be fighting is myself. Managing perceived expectations versus the glorious sticky mess of human reality is a fool's game and can make a person sick. And it can all be gone in a heartbeat anyway, in spite of our best intentions. Savour it all.

Pay attention when your body speaks. Give your brain a break. Love yourself enough to be appreciative of all that you are, and forgive what you aren't. We are so much better at offering these axioms than living them. Learning the hard way is still learning.

[adversitybloomed]

          her dark brown eyes glazed over slightly as she could feel the sting of tears threatening to fall, yet she watched him trying to understand and read the undertones that his voice tried to convey. she could sense an unease in him and she could not help but wonder if this was another attempt at him trying to push her away and he had no intention of returning to her. fear struck within her at the thought of it, her throat restricting for a moments breath as she had to fight away the possibility of abandonment. she felt a wave of nausea though she quickly fought it back as she did not want to get sick. instead she focused on his physical touch, her own fingers squeezing's his in return.

          when he lowered his head to level with her own, she could not help but think he was being unfair for he knew that she loved the colors of his eyes and struggled to resist when he did this.     ❝  a few days... or is this you saying a few days that really turns into a few months ?  ❞    the question of thought left her lips without her meaning to ask it out loud. taking in a breath, she realized that it was too late to back track and so in order to save face she leaned forward to touch her nose to his own so that he could not see the tear that fell from her left eye.

        ❝  why would they want me to stay instead of you ? it is you who they miss and long to see.  ❞    nuzzling her nose against his own, she released a sigh as she tried to figure out a way to explain her feelings without seeming like she was desperate. it was not at as if she did not trust him, for she did  ━━ but she knew too that he had a history of threatening to go it alone just to keep her safe.     ❝  𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒅  ━━ i know you have plans to go somewhere that you do not want me to go with you too. it is not hard to guess this based off your actions, glances and hushed whispers as you bend over a map. i know you are trying to keep me safe by trying to get me to stay here ━━ but i am afraid. please try to understand it is not because i do not trust you, for i trust you more then i have trusted any other. but it is me... i do not trust myself...  ❞    her voice shook a little as she felt another hot tear escape down the path of the first. she fought against the lump in her throat, so that she could seem like she was stronger then how she felt, but knew he would see right through it.

          within the back of her mind, she could hear the old aes sedai warning that lived within the emperors palace, her raspy whisper echoing within her mind; a phoenix with no place to rest will burn brightly before becoming of ash. her talons are sharp, ready for war, but she has no home to rest in, no place to call her own. you will walk a lonely life, filled with heartache and pain. but it is your duty and duty always comes before the heart.

        ❝  i know this is a weakness of mine and i know it must be frustrating to you. i apologies for being so clingy and weak... i just do not know how to explain any of this to you without making you hate me. i know the struggles you face and i just do not want you to walk the path alone.  ❞    she paused as she took in and released a few breaths to keep her emotions in check.     ❝  for me though, my place of safety is by your side  ━━ i know that in past lives, the dragon has killed his family and friends. i realize that this is your nightmare and you fear it. but the choice is mine and i choose to stay because i love you in this life and within the next. i do not fear you, i do not fear the taint that haunts you. what i fear is loosing you, which i know you plan to be lost in the end.  ❞   

          she put a little pressure on the touch of their noses before slowly pulling back.     ❝  my own mind and my own spirit are my enemy. why do you think i am so understanding of the struggles you face. i may not be tainted like how men are when they channel, but my taint is different   ━━ almost as if i am cursed. ❞    but he had seen it in her, for as much as he suffered with the whispers taint of the void, he knew that she too had her own inner demons she faced. he knew the pain of it, the guilt that she held within her heart   ━━ for he had been the only one to quiet the darkness within her heart when the nightmares shook her awake.

          squeezing his hands gently she leaned back enough to once more look into his eyes, her head shaking as she pushed the dark thoughts away. he did not need to know of her suffering for he had enough on his plate and she had already had said too much.      ❝  one week. that is as long as i will stay for. but if you do not come back within that week or at the end of it, i will search for you and drag you back from the depths of hell if i have to. mostly to kiss you, but then to scold you fiercely. this is the most i can agree to.  ❞

He imagined a few days - or even weeks - for her here among people that would treat her like family. Emond's Field was home to those that needed one. Home to those that could use one. Rand felt uneasy doing this but he also understood that maybe she needed this more than she would ever admit. She would be safer here, more than anywhere else. She would be safer and at home and that meant that he could rest easy going forward towards Tarmon Gai'don. Gently he took hold of her hands, thumbs smoothing over her skin as he ducked some so that he could look up into her eyes. He choked down the emotions that threaded through him. "For a few days." he answered simply. "Just a few days. I think that all of them are eager to get their hands on you and since they can't have me…" He laughed but it felt dry as it came from his lips.

[tpwkwriter]

In sickness and health.

y/n is under the weather and H turns full protective mode.

————————————————————————————————————————

2.04am the clock that sat beside y/n’s bedside table read.

‘Fuck sake’ she mentally sighed

She felt so sick and tired, yet her body physically couldn’t let her sleep. She was aware she had been working too much and now she’s feeling the wrath of it.

She looked over at her peaceful, sleeping boyfriend who at this point she envied, why couldn’t she sleep? Minutes passed when H could feel her shuffling around trying to get comfy. “Babe?” He asked his voice quiet and laced with slumber. The girl felt bad for waking the sleeping Angel but she couldn’t stay still.

“M’fine honey, go back to sleep” she said glancing over and pressing a kiss to his head, within seconds he’s back in to dreamland.

Y/n slowly slipped out of bed hoping not to stir Harry in the meantime, she wrapped a purple robe around her and slowly slid downstairs, while walking down the stairs of there shared home a sudden wave of nausea hits her, ‘shit,shit,shit’ she whispers, she walks into there kitchen fixing herself a glass of water and scrambling the cupboards to find medication, she swore to herself when she found none.

She set her now empty glass down onto the kitchen island and tried to back upstairs.

But once again the nausea hit like a ton of bricks.

she made a beeline for the shared bathroom, and within seconds she found herself curled around the toilet, with a throbbing head and throat.

“Bug?” a familiar voice murmured.

“Be out in a minute H” the girl said as loud as she could.

Then behind her she feels the bathroom door open.

“Oh shit” he mumbles, once revealed to his girls head hunched over into a toilet.

Within seconds he’s at her side, he takes her hair and scoops into a small pony tail with the hair tie he always has on his wrist for moments like this.

“Hey bug” he says rubbing her back

She gently lifts her head up revealing her exhausted eyes and flushed face.

“Its okay hmmm?, why didn’t you wake me” he whispers. Concern fills his green eyes further making y/n feel guilty.

“I couldn’t wake you, you deserve rest H, and plus M’fine, its fine” she stresses.

“Thought we’d been over this? Hey, weather im the otherwise of the world, asleep or away from you, if you need you you let me know” he explains in a soft and safe voice.

“I know but H-“ she was suddenly Interrupted by another wave of sickness.

He hated seeing her like this, unable to move or speak without being in pain, by god did he wish this was him.

“Oh baby” he says tracing her back with his fingertips, once he helps her sit up and make sure her face is clean, he feels her temperature and now realises what’s wrong.

“My love, your burning up” he confronts.

“Im gonna run you a bath okay, regulate that temperature of yours alright”he says slowly leaning up and running the taps.

The girl slowly removes her pjs and wraps a towel around her clad body and waits sitting on there shared disheveled bed.

while running her bath he makes sure that its the right temperature for her and lays out her (well his tee and boxers) out for her after.

“All ready for you my love” he says walking towards where she was sitting, slowly reaching out his hands so she can hold on to him.

“Thanks honey, you truly are amazing” she gushes

“Just doing m’job” he says kissing the side of her head.

She slides into the tub allowing her body to relax and let go, “m’already feeling a bit better now” she sighs “good to hear love”

“Need to stop overworking yourself love” he says

“Babe, yeah I know its just this week has been, well busy” she comments

“I understand darling, its just I hate seeing you be in pain and not being able to sleep, I feel bad because I cant do anything” he says, with his head hung and looking to the bathroom floor,

“Oh H, you’ve already made me feel so much better, yeah? Its okay baby” the girl says

———

After slipping into Harry’s clothes the girl slips into there shared bed in the early hours that had passed, she automatically fell into the arms of her lover.

“Thank you for all of this H, truly lucky to have you” she says pressing kisses to his exposed chest.

“What Can I say? In sickness and health baby” he said wrapping her arms around her waist pulling her in.

A giggle leaves the girls mouth.

“Pretty sure thats only eligible in marriage pretty boy” she smiles inhaling his scent.

“Mm who said we wont be married soon huh?” He says, you can practically here his smirk.

“Whatever you say H”

“On a real y/n are you up for that, like a future with me? Do you see it too?” He says running his hand through your hair

Your heart could burst at that comment, the fact he saw a future of you two was adoring.

“Of course I am, 100% up for a future with you pretty, marriage, children and whatever the future holds for us, im willing to have it” before continuing your lips mash together.

“Fuck do I love you y/n”

“I love you too pretty boy, but be careful kissing my lips mister” y/n smiled

“As I said, in sickness and health” he smirks taking her once more again in his arms.

——————————————————————————

[cinnamonest]

Lupophobia

Yandere "Escape Attempt" prompt - Razor

-------------------- Words: 8,944 Warnings:-fem reader, attempted noncon beastiality (none actually happens), yandere/captivity, noncon, biting, breeding, brief gendered themes/tones involving animal mating. Heavily inspired by my degrees of lewdity "deviant"/beastiality playthrough. I applied things I learned in college linguistics for this. Truly putting my education to a good purpose. --------------------- The fortunate thing about animals, and their adjacents, was that they were very easy to deceive, and no matter what, they would fall for the same trick, time and time again. "You see it girl? You want it?" You grimaced at the slimy texture on your fingers, wiggling the fatty slab in your grip and swallowing the sickness that came from looking at it. Out of, you supposed, ingrained social habits, you gave an awkward smile as you wiggled the meat. In contrast, the wolf had the opposite reaction, her ears immediately perked up, and she leaped into a playful position, front half low to the ground as her tail stuck up, and a low whine escaped her throat, eyes fixated on the meat. Yes, unlike with people, who had a greater capacity for pattern recognition and learning, who followed the fool me once, fool me twice mantra, you could count on animals to be easily deceived over and over without having to change the way you deceived them. This was far from the first time you had pulled this exact move, nor was it difficult to do -- you merely waited for a spare moment to rip out a chunk of the meat and hid it away for a little while while the rest of the pack was not looking, too absorbed in their own gorging to even cast a glance in your direction. "You want it...?" You repeated, wiggling the slab again in front of the wolf's eyes. Drool spilled out of the side of her mouth between her sharp, glistening teeth, and she let out another whine.

This was not the first time this trick had worked. This was not the first time you'd managed to steal and hide a hunk of meat away while the animals gorged themselves on the remains of whatever poor creature fell victim to them. Hell, this wasn't even the first time that this specific trick had worked on this specific individual wolf. You'd come to recognize each of them with time, even assigned them little names in your head by identifiers. She was a mother, one of the wolves that remained behind at the little den while the others went out for hunting, leaving only the nursing females, the smallest pups, and, well, yourself. Albeit in a weakened state in nursing, they were still easily capable of overpowering you, and, through means you honestly did not understand, they somehow knew they were supposed to prevent you from leaving. Even when you stood up, one or more of them would immediately pick their heads up, ears falling flat and even letting out the softest of warning growls.

She whined in front of you, eyes fixated on the slab. You wiggled it again. It was an easy deceit to pull off. "You want it... then go... get it!"

You hurled the hunk of red flesh as far as your arms could manage, and, exactly per plan, the she-wolf immediately bolted in the direction of the throw. And likewise, you turned on your heel and began the now-routine dash in the opposite direction -- the direction of human civilization. That had been the easy part.

It was the rest of the way that would be difficult. This time of day was the only opportunity you had to pull this whole thing off, but the sun was quickly setting, and unlike the wolves, you were not exactly gifted with night vision. You likened the route to an obstacle course, a puzzle -- repeated actions that became muscle memory. The first few times, you'd merely stumbled around in the woods for a few minutes. With each successive attempt, you retained more knowledge of the path, could clear a longer distance in increasingly shorter times, memorized landmarks, remembered little helpful actions and hindrances, and with each successive attempt, you found yourself making it closer and closer to the end of the woods than the time before. There wasn't much else to go by, so you used trees that stood out to you. The huge tree with the hollowed out hole in the center was the first landmark -- go right. The tree that had an oddly-angled branch came next. So on and so on. You measured success by how many of said landmarks you could pass in time, striving to make each a longer and longer venture every time. Just when despair had been finally getting the better of you, the last attempt had had you finding a footpath used by the Springvale hunters, and that meant you were close. If you could just find that again -- there. To say flat ground was a welcome feeling to your bare feet was an understatement. The slimy dirt texture of the forest floor and prickly leaves and pine needles was not a pleasant sensation. Nonetheless, there was no time to savor it or anything, soon, soon, you'd walk on paved streets, and floors, and, and... You stopped for a mere moment, panting, desperately taking in deep breaths to soothe the exhaustion burning in your chest. You darted your head from side to side. There was no sign of anything coming your way. No footsteps or growls in the distance behind you. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, as much from physical exertion as it was from a blooming, disbelieving excitement. I might actually make it.  Your legs felt weak at the prospect, and you steadied your stumbling against a tree. You were certain you'd never made it this far before. It was difficult to process, almost surreal. After so, so, so many times, over the course of months and months, you were so used to being stopped by this point that your brain half-expected it at any moment. You'd really reached a point at which the escape attempts were almost done with a knowing futility, you no longer really had much hope when setting out, merely running on principle and the faint chance that was now so real. You could be stopped any moment. And yet, after a few more breaths, nothing happened. You shook your head to clear the dizziness, taking a deep breath and squinting forward in the twilight. You nearly felt your heart stop when you processed a shape in the distance -- a building. Springvale. It was distant and downhill, but visible. Right there within your reach, and all you had to do was go to it, so you steadied your breath and took off as fast as-- The world suddenly spun around you as something snatched at your ankle. Your shriek echoed off the trees, reverberating until it grew silent. A clanging of metallic sounds accompanied it, rattling hollowed objects triggered into motion. Everything began to settle, the sudden flooding of stimuli to your eyes and the feeling of sudden movement both slowing to a gentle sway. You were unbreathing, unblinking, heart pounding as your vision spun and, in a panicked haze, you desperately darted your eyes and head each way, struggling to process your senses. Your head felt suddenly tight and tense, your upper half heavy, and a burning pain wrapped around your ankle. Everything was... upside down. You looked down -- no, up -- at your feet. One was bent at the knee, falling in the direction of gravity towards your head, the other was extended perfectly straight, tense and unable to move. A cord was snagged around your ankle, a perfect tightened knot that wrapped around the flesh. You looked up -- no, again, down -- at the ground. Nausea lurched in your stomach as you did, seeing the forest floor a good drop below. You took a moment to process. You followed the trail of the rope from where it tugged painfully at your ankle, followed it to the branch it looped over, and down the trunk to the base of the tree, where it was securely tied around a knotted root. The metallic sound had come from what appeared to be collected garbage, metal scraps, a glass bottle or two, and some metal tools and cans all tied up in a net and secured to the spot where the rope met the branch, an alert that the trap had been set off. Your mouth hung open, you blinked over and over, before finally, bitter anger burst in your chest. "Ghhhhh!" You let out a frustrated, furious cry, thrashing wildly and pulling at your scalp. You kicked and struggled, but only succeeded in making yourself swing, making the nausea and dizziness worse. A trap. Of course. The furthest you've ever gotten, and you were stopped by a fucking hunting trap. Damn those Springvale hunters for coming this far out into the woods. It could be worse, you tried to console yourself. It could have been a bear trap, which would have more or less destroyed your leg, possibly taken it clean off. But nonetheless, misery and frustration bubbled up in your chest as you swung back and forth, slowing down to stillness. You'd never made it this close to town before. You could see the road as well, albeit just barely, a few hundred yards in the distance. You could make out where the dirt path became gravel in the distance, upside-down in the last light of the quickly-setting sun, and, as tears filled your eyes, you reached a hand out to it, miserably grasping your hand shut before letting your arm fall. It was so, so close! Now you were trapped, stuck here in this miserable, humiliating predicament, and you'd have to wait to be saved, and inevitably dragged back the way you'd come. You thrashed again, trying and failing to curl your body up and reach your foot. Your fingers just barely grazed the knot of the rope, but even if you could reach it, it was designed for your body weight to hold the knot in place to begin with. You let out a shaky sigh and a small sob, tears dripping directly out of your eyes and falling downward with gravity. You wiped your eyes, and a thought made a bit of nervous, daring hope light up in your chest. You were close to Springvale, right? Maybe you could be heard. This trap was set by the Springvale hunters themselves, right? You'd seen these types before, a snare that, when tripped, released on one side and whipped around the center of the force that tripped the rope, forming a perfect, tight knot around the ankle of the prey before hauling it upwards by use of weight. You took a deep breath and cupped your hands around your mouth. "Help!" You called out, straining out the vowel as long as you could, before inhaling a ragged breath and repeating the action. As the echoes quieted, you waited, but nothing happened. You wriggled and writhed, but only succeeded in making the net of metal rattle. You supposed it helped the hunters hear animals struggling, and led them to the source. But the hunters wouldn't be back out until tomorrow, you couldn't afford to wait for them to come rescue you on their own. You waited a moment, trying again and again to yell. The Springvale hunters, a traveler on the road, hell, you'd accept help from treasure hoarders if they hung out in this part of the wilderness. Anyone, anyone human. Well, except one, preferably, but still. Any other human being. You couldn't even remember the last human interaction you'd had. At least, a fully human interaction, without any licks or whines or growls or other canid behaviors you'd become far too accustomed to. But nobody came. You waited. Tried again. And again. And again. No response. Your head was beginning to pound and throb. You'd black out if you stayed like this much longer, and you were pretty certain it could even kill you. But nothing was responding to your cries for help. You wracked your brain in panic for a solution. An idea popped into your head. You'd seen Razor do it before, and the wolves responded to him even though he produced the sound with a human voice, so maybe you too could... It was embarrassing, but worth a try. You didn't exactly have many options. You jerked your bodyweight in the other direction, making yourself turn to face the woods in the direction you'd come from instead of Springvale. You reached your quickly-numbing arms up and cupped your hands around your mouth, forming your lips into an "o" shape, and, well, swallowed your pride. You didn't have any better ideas. "Awooooo--" You tried to mimic the howls you'd heard so many times as accurately as you could manage, but it came out a bit strained and comical. You waited a moment, and, receiving no response, whimpered in your desperation and tried a second time. Your voice echoed throughout the trees. You weren't certain exactly how it worked, you were pretty certain they had different tones they used, some for aggression, some as a cry of distress, but you weren't capable of telling them apart. You could only hope for the best. It wasn't really as if they could help you, but at the very least, they would probably go find Razor for you. They'd done so before, after another humiliating failure when you'd fallen into a hole in the earth during a past attempt. You'd learned they were far more intelligent than you once thought, and they understood things like that, at least. But gods, did this make you feel dumb. Your face heated with embarrassment with each attempt. You inhaled to try a third time, but as you did, a shrill howl pierced the air from a distance. A response. Your heartrate picked up as a little spark of relief and hope -- albeit dread that lurked in the back of your head -- made you shudder. You howled again, and received a second response. It carried on for a few minutes that way, sounding back and forth, and it sounded like the other was getting closer. Finally, you heard steps, and anticipation swelled in your chest. You were pretty sure that the response howls had been that of an actual wolf -- even you, in your time in these woods, had learned to tell the difference between Razor's vocalizations and that of the wolves. There were simply some aspects of the canid sounds that human vocal chords could only mimic, but not recreate to a perfect likeness, and thus his vocalizations were a bit distinct. Still, you could be wrong, or, even better, perhaps the footsteps coming close to you weren't an animal at all, but perhaps a different figure, maybe a hunter...? No, that was definitely a four-legged gait. That, too, was something you had learned to tell apart, a two-legged gait versus a four-legged one. It kind of came in handy when you were trying to to hide or run and needed to gauge exactly what was hunting you down. You craned your neck to the best of your ability in the direction of the sound. A creature emerged from the trees. You took a sharp breath. ...It was merely a very large, brownish-greyish wolf. It gazed up at you with big black eyes and ears perked up in alertness. You squinted. You'd never seen this wolf before. You were fairly certain of this much; during your time in the woods, you'd learned to distinguish between them pretty well. You learned the little differences -- this one was bigger, this one had a scratch on its ear, this one had a scar on its hip, this one was more brown and this one was more grey, and so on it went. This one was different from all the wolves you'd become familiar with. The wolf sat down, tilting its head at you, tongue lolling out as it panted. It was huge, muscular looking. "Help," you whimpered. As aware as you were that it obviously did not understand, you couldn't think of anything else to do. You flailed a bit in your desperation, and pointed towards the spot where the rope was tied to the tree. "Help me... Come on, please..." The wolf actually followed the line of your pointing, eyes settling on the base of the trap. And, miraculously, moved towards it. Your heart pounded. Did it actually understand? Would it help? It walked over and bit at the rope, shaking its head rapidly in the same way you'd witnessed the wolves kill small prey, or how dogs played with toys. It was helping! You shuddered again, hope burning in your chest, and a tear of relief dripping from your eyes upside-down to the ground below. And if this wolf wasn't from the pack, it wouldn't take you back, right? How, you weren't certain, but the other wolves seemed to understand the... arrangement going on. Many of your escape attempts had been thwarted not by your captor himself, but by the pack -- surrounding you in a circle, barking and growling and snapping at you until you were forced to turn back, even tackling you as you ran, biting your clothes and arms to drag you back. But this wolf would let you go, right? .... Wait a second. Cold dread suddenly made your stomach lurch. This wolf had no reason to help you, and no reason to drag you back. It had every reason to see you as easy prey. Any relief or hope you'd felt was immediately replaced with a chilling rush of panic. Yes, you would be easy prey, right there for the taking. You thrashed about, trying again to reach up and loosen the knot on your foot, but failing. Fuck. You were trapped between two unpleasant options. There was a chance the wolf was just helping, but in the end, it was an animal, not a person, with instincts of goodwill or benevolence. It would follow its instincts. Once you hit the ground, you'd have to run. That was the only solution. But... it also occurred to you only then that you were hanging a good fifteen feet or so in the air. Upside down. What if the fall knocked you out? Hell, what if it broke your legs? What if it broke your spine? If it were Razor himself, he'd lower you down slowly, but the wolf lacked the sense  or ability to do so. You'd just drop. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There was a thick coating of leaves on the ground, which would hopefully help, and this part of the forest had soft, clay-like ground rather than hard rock, but nonetheless, it was a long drop. Dammit! Your body wracked with a sob of frustration, anger, and panic. Why did all of this have to happen to you? You'd asked yourself that that plenty of times. You didn't do anything to deserve-- There was a snapping sound. You shrieked as gravity immediately sent you crashing down, world spinning around you, and you collided with the earth with crash that took the breath from your lungs; the sound flooded your ears, echoed as your head went numb. You landed directly on your back, eyes looking up at the trees and the sky beyond then as the world spun around you and your vision darkened. Pain ran through your body on impact, a rough, blunt sort of pain that ached through your flesh and meat and bones. You groaned in pain, teeth clenched as it flooded your senses, trembling as it slowly began to ebb away after the initial blow. The wolf's face popping into your vision sent you jolting back to awareness. It was startling, it's cold wet nose pressing against your own, and after a moment, it lapped its tongue against your face. Panic seized your entire body, and you were frozen, unable to move, not even breathing, eyes wide in terror. And then it licked you again, letting out a soft, tender whine. It was being friendly. You let out a shuddering sigh as relief washed over you again, and you thanked whatever god was looking out for you for granting you your life. "Th-thank you," you murmured, reaching a trembling hand up to pat the wolf's head, wincing at the soreness in your arm. It whined again, bumping its head against yours. Wolves were far, far larger than you were certain most people realized. Back home, you'd always thought that the howls you heard at night from within the safety of Mondstadt's walls were from creatures no bigger than the large hunting dogs you'd seen in Springvale. In reality, that was not the case. Even the smallest of the wolves were massive in comparison to those dogs, their heads easily twice the size of your own. You'd been utterly terrified of them in the beginning, bursting into frightened tears whenever one made its way over to sniff you in their curiosity, or dump an offering of a small creature's carcass at your feet in a show of friendliness (an unsettling experience, no matter how many time you were told it's good, 'cause they like (y/n)), or lick your face in an attempt to show affection. You'd grown used to it with time. But this wolf was even larger than the majority you'd seen, easily thrice your size in every capacity. Likely a loner separated from its pack. You were aware there were sometimes conflicts between the larger, stronger pack males that ultimately ended in the loser leaving the pack and heading off on its own, although it seemed nearly incomprehensible that a wolf of this size would lose to anything. Had it chosen the route of violence, you wouldn't have stood a chance. You laid there for a moment, head spinning as you took deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself down and regain your sense of control over your body. You curled your fingers and toes, flexed the muscles in your arms and legs. You were a bit scraped up and your entire body still ached from the impact, but miraculously, nothing seemed broken. You closed your eyes, feeling the cool evening breeze and the wet tongue that was repeatedly lapping at your face. Finally, after a moment, with a groan at the ache in your body, you pushed yourself upward with your elbows, flipping over to your hands and knees, pulling your leg forward to stand-- The breath was knocked out of you yet again as a massive weight crashed down onto your body. You clawed at the ground, gasping to regain oxygen, body going tense. "Wh-what-" The creature let his bodyweight fall down on your frame, and you grunted as your upper half slammed into the ground. It rendered you entirely immobile, this wolf was both massive and heavy, you could barely breathe under the sheer mass of its body. You struggled to push yourself back up onto your elbows. "H-hey, what are you--" With a whine, it rutted its hips forward. Oh, fuck. "N-no!" You tried to rear up, pushing your upper half upward on your elbows as hard as you could, to no avail. Its weight was crushing. "B-bad! Bad dog! Stop!" You clawed at the dirt, gasping as it thrust again. "Get off!" It only let out the same high, throaty whine, thrusting its hips several times in quick succession, humping your ass with desperation. You could feel its blunt-ended cock digging into the flesh, making your blood run cold. When it rutted forward, the motion hiked your ragged little dress up, bunching up the fabric and exposing your cunt. You whimpered with fear, desperately trying to drag yourself forward. "Stop, stop, get off!" You thrashed again, achieving nothing by the action. The worst part, the dread that was quickly overtaking your thoughts, was that you knew it was futile. You'd learned a long time ago that your resistance would mean nothing, not by the brutal laws of the world outside of the fragile sense of safety human society provided. It was expected. It happened among the wolves themselves all the time -- the mates were not something that were chosen in the same way humans did. Too many times you'd witnessed the ritual -- the males would fight, snarling and growling and lunging at each other until one would give up and run scurrying away, tail tucked between its legs. Growing up with all the knowledge you'd learned from books and what humans generally observed of the animals, you'd always assumed that from that point, the she-wolves would then gladly and willingly copulate with the victor, but, you'd quickly learned, that was not the case. It had shocked you the first few times, your eyes widening and your mouth dropping open as you witnessed the poor females get tackled, mounted, their whimpers as teeth sank into their shoulders and kept them in place. It was brutal, and yet, you'd come to understand and accept it was simply the way things were. Perhaps the part that had shocked you the most was how accepted it was -- the other wolves would simply look on, adjusted to what was normal among them, and the brutalized female would, from that point on, act as a normal mate to what more or less was originally her assailant -- licking and grooming each other, sleeping next to one another, spending time with each other, all as if such a thing made sense. Given the acceptant, compliant state you sometimes found yourself slipping into, you supposed you weren't too different in that way. Because they're strong, you'd been told. Beating the other male and forcibly mating the female herself signified strength. They were supposed to try to run and fight, and the male was supposed to forcibly overpower them, a display of strength, of suitableness as a partner. That was why fighting back didn't matter -- it was supposed to be that way, in the minds of the animals, and thus they were content with that setup. The present moment was anything but content. Another rut of the wolf's hips brought you snapping out of your brief thought, back to the moment at hand. The forest was quiet aside from your own struggling, the last rays of light were fading from the sky, the moon hanging high in place of their light. You let out a shrill, squeaking cry, thrashing with renewed effort, but, predictably, not even budging. "Get off! Get off me! Stop it, bad dog!" No matter how you tried, you couldn't move your body in the slightest, perfectly pinned still. "Fuck..." It let out another whine, not even seeming to notice your struggles, grasping at your shoulder with its teeth, and you feared that if it bit down, it might shatter your shoulder. It rutted forward, and this time you froze, entire body going tense as the blunt head of its cock pressed firmly against your exposed slit. You finally managed to claw at the leaf-covered ground enough to pull yourself forward, if but just an inch -- and the wolf, snarling, thrust its own body forward to push you back into the same position. One of its front paws reached forward and clawed onto your shoulder, and you squealed as it pulled you back, forming a tiny cut in the flesh of your jugular. Your began to nearly hyperventilate, trembling, breaths shallow and quick. "S-stop..." Your plea was defeatedly quiet, realizing that further protest would only hurt you. Tears gathered in your eyes. Your back was bent at an angle under the sheer weight of the furry mass that kept you pinned, and it felt like your very lungs were crushed, breathing quickly becoming difficult. You began to feel your body tingling with numbness. It was so heavy and difficult to breathe you weren't certain you'd even survive if it fucked you. Panic seized your brain, overriding any coherent thought. There was a snarling, growling sort of noise that cut through the surrounding stillness. It wasn't coming from the creature mounted on your body. It didn't sound canid. It was human. Much like the howls, you had learned, with time, how to distinguish between the real and the imitation, those sounds that, no matter how long of a lifetime of practice one had, could simply not match the vocals of another species. The wolf stopped its motions, turning its head, and likewise immediately transitioned its entire demeanor, tensing up and returning the sound, a low snarl, baring its teeth as its snout wrinkled up. It dismounted your body and lowered itself to the ground, hips and shoulders raised as its core sank low, a preparatory stance ready to lunge. You fell forward, face crashing into the leaves, before scrambling upwards and falling back on your ass, propped up with your hands behind you and your knees bent as you froze, unable to move a muscle, eyes open wide and gasping for breath as air burned in your lungs. You could see red-orange eyes glaring in the moonlight from a short distance, and for once, the face of the wolf-boy made a wave of relief come crashing down, rather than panic at being found. He made another low sound in his throat, a snarling growl. His shoulders hunched up in a similar motion to the wolf, baring his teeth, glare locked on the transgressor. He didn't have a weapon on him, so his hands clenched into fists at his side. You'd witnessed this plenty of times in the past by now, but never before with him as one of the participants. The other male wolves within the pack hadn't exactly taken an interest in you, rather, simultaneously accepted you as one of their own, while seeming to recognize you as something of an "other," as they did him. Among them, though, these conflicts were regularly occurring, a constantly shifting hierarchal dynamic that was weighted in blood and pure brute strength. Your heartrate picked up anew. Strong as Razor may be, this thing was massive. And he didn't have his claymore, you remembered he'd left it near the den earlier, before going on his daily routine to check the various animal traps. This wolf could kill him. And given that it wasn't a pack member, it wouldn't hesitate to do so. The wolf took a few heavy steps forward, growling all the while, and the wolf-boy reciprocated the action, a deep low growl in his throat as he stomped forward, fingers curling into a claw-like shape, not exhibiting so much as the slightest hesitation to show aggression against the massive creature. You tried to stand on your shaking legs, but fell on your ass again. "W-wait, no, r-run," you stammered, words spewing out of your mouth before you could process them, "he'll hurt you--" Your vision went white, bright light exploded all around, a crashing, booming sort of sound cutting off your words. There was a heat to it that you could feel on your skin, but it blinded your vision, leaving you blinking as, in a mere moment, the electric energy faded to a purplish glow that sparked with a buzz in the palm of his hand. The wolf leaped back in terrified shock, immediately flattening its ears, turning and tucking its tail between its legs, scrambling with fear into the darkness of the trees. And just like that, the threat was gone. You were left slack-jawed, mouth hanging open, trembling and panting as you watched it disappear, footsteps growing quieter and quieter until they could no longer be heard. Instead, the leaves to your side crunched in a two-legged pattern as the figure drew closer, and then dropped down to his knees to get on a face-to-face level. You turned your head and your eyes met. His eyes were wide and pupils blown even wider, mouth slightly open, looking you over. His eyes had always had a softness to them, full of light. After a moment, he reached up, slowly, and wiped the tears from your eyes, a soft, unthinking gesture, and leaned forward. He nuzzled his face against yours, and, after a moment, licked a few quick, short laps up the side of your face. It was nothing you weren't very well used to, and you merely sat numbly as he did so. His eyes trailed downward, widening as they met the gash that had been created on your neck by the massive wolf's claws, and he leaned forward again, lapping at your skin. You inhaled a sharp breath at the sting of his tongue on the wound, but you knew it actually was helpful in terms of clotting, so you didn't resist. You sat like that for a moment, silent, still, letting him clean up the wound, saliva naturally helping the healing process. It was bizarrely intimate in its own way, but it certainly wasn't the first time he'd helped in that way with a wound. It stopped stinging after a moment, blood clotting under the wet warmth. He pulled his head back, looking over you again as if to ascertain your unharmed state, eyes wide and expression flat, looking directly at your face - your weary face, trembling lip, expression still uneasy from the remaining shock. "You... Okay?" There was a softness to his face, a wide-eyed look of innocent concern. You did your best to nod. Any hope you'd had left had been crushed at some point in the adrenaline of the encounter, and thus, all chances of escaping gone, defeat and weariness washed over your body, and you slumped forward in exhaustion. Of course, he was unaware of and most likely did not even consider why you suddenly fell against him, he tended to take any action you made at face value and accepted it as simply what it was, and likewise, every action he made was easily interpreted the same way. It was, you sometimes consoled yourself, a rather welcome simplicity in contrast to the hidden and subtle meanings that humans often portrayed through their actions, and you never had to worry about an innocent action being misinterpreted maliciously, nor did you worry that your emotions were too transparent in your actions. Instead, he merely seemed pleased by the gesture, eagerly wrapping his arms around your frame and pulling your closer, rubbing his head up and down so the sides of your faces nuzzled together, squeezing you tightly. "I heard you," he said, a cheerful sort of pride in his voice. "Came to help." You swallowed. "Th-thank you..." As much as his sudden appearance crushed any chance you had of reaching Springvale, you couldn't help but feel a genuine relief, even gratitude, for saving you from what would have undoubted been a highly painful and traumatizing experience, if you'd survived the lack of oxygen. Not that you weren't already getting your fair share of traumatizing experiences out here, but, well, none quite like what your experience would have been had he not shown up. After a still, silent moment of embrace, he released you, shifted and stood up, but then suddenly tensed, and his eyes widened with what seemed like surprise, or perhaps realization, mouth opening slightly. His eyes were cast downward, settled on the cord that was still tightly tied around your ankle, and reached down to loosen the knot, slipping it off and tossing the remaining cord to the side. You made a small sound as if to start speaking, but cut off and fell silent, shutting your mouth. And then, as he came back up, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and processing, mouth slightly open as he looked a bit to one side, then the other, to you, and up to the tree from which you'd hung. The wheels were turning. Finally, after a moment, it seemed to click, his eyes went wide with realization for a split second before he turned his head back towards you and narrowed his eyes in a glare. His "angry" face had always been a bit difficult to take seriously, he had maintained a baby face despite his age, big eyes and soft features making it look like more of a pout than anything, but in time you'd learned the rightful amount of fear to have at seeing it. Your heart sank in your chest. "You ran away again." His voice was a bitter, grumpy mumble. You'd feared that when you noticed the surprising lack of anger up until a few moments ago. That it hadn't yet clicked with him, until now, exactly why you were out here, how you got out here, in the first place. He might have thought the larger wolf had dragged you out here, or, perhaps more likely, it had not crossed his mind at all in the intensity of the previous moments, too focused on conflict and comfort. "I..." You trailed off, trembling. There was a moment of silence. You couldn't exactly argue against it. It was true that he was rather gullible, and would often believe rather ridiculous excuses or explanations that anyone else would never buy, but there were limits to that, and at the present moment, you couldn't think of any excuse that even he would believe. Even if the wolf had come in to drag you away, the she-wolf set to guard you would have made a noise to alert the others, and he knew that. There was a moment of silence, and, not receiving any objection to his claim, he exhaled a frustrated huff through his nostrils. "I'm mad." As nice as it was that you didn't have to worry about being misinterpreted, another pro to your situation was that your captor was easily the most transparent person you'd ever met, bluntly honest, so much so it sometimes worked against him. You were pretty sure he couldn't be indirect or subtle with his words if he tried. Passive-aggressiveness or anything of the sort was foreign. "I'm sorry," you murmured, hoping to ease his anger, but you knew by now those words didn't really hold any meaning to him. He opened his mouth, that same pout on his face, and took a breath as if to speak, but no words came out. He closed his mouth, looking at the ground for a moment, opened again, repeated the process, and again, before roughly shaking his head, head hanging and expression falling to something like irritation and disappointment. With other people, you'd feel more intimidated by silence, silence meant someone was angry and trying to get under your skin. And while he made no attempt to hide being angry, you knew the silence wasn't an intentional passive-aggressive act, but rather, just lacking the proper words. It was a process you went through frequently, and to some degree, you felt bad for him. Having feelings, having complex thoughts, but lacking the knowledge or ability to articulate them, being unable to adequately express what you thought and felt, limited to such simple terms as sad and mad, words that could only convey incredibly simple feelings... you could only imagine how frustrating that would be. He knew that those words weren't enough, but didn't have any other ones to use. You understood why, then, he grunted in frustration, kicking at the ground, sending a few leaves scattering. But you also knew that if he could not express himself with words, actions would have to suffice. You knew better than to expect any different. This routine, despite its variances in the specifics of how the events went down, went like clockwork from this point onward, the moment of defeat. They say humans are, after all, creatures of habit. You nonetheless let out a little surprised sound at the suddenness with which you were lifted by the armpits, quickly moved a few steps to the side and unceremoniously pushed forward, facing one of the many boulders that dotted the forest floor. Instinctively, releasing an exhale of defeat and acceptance, braced yourself against it, hands pressed into the rock. You were technically standing, but leaning far forward, bodyweight resting mostly onto the rock you were bending over on. His front pressed against you, hand pushing your back down into an arch, latching arms around your waist. There was no hesitation, no preparation, merely pulling the fabric of your dress up with one swift motion, and the waist of his pants down in another, all in a matter of a single moment, and rutting against you, once, twice, cock slipping against your folds, and on the third thrust, it actually slid in, pushing about halfway in with harsh force with no warning. You gasped at the sting, clawing at the rock as your face twisted with the slight pain, but his hand gripped hard on your shoulder. "Stay... Still." It was honestly impressive, you sometimes thought, to manage to get a cock inside you so easily with hip angling alone. He'd never thought to use his hands to do so, you guessed due to merely mimicking what he observed, as all humans did. Nonetheless, you let out a mewl at the feeling of friction against your walls as it dragged, pulling out a bit before slamming back in. Then again, faster. And again, faster still. And finally, setting into a rhythm, quick and harsh, your body lurching forward at the force. Defeat and despond had fully set in, and you made no movement to fight back, instead attempting to ease the discomfort by pushing back with the thrusts. And then, after a moment, it stopped. It often did -- again, a set pattern, a routine. Increasingly often these days, he changed his mind at this point, initially going with the instinctive, natural option, but it would take a moment to remember that there was an alternative. You shuddered at the sliding feeling and emptiness as he pulled back out, but even though you braced yourself, the air was knocked out of you as you were flipped over, back hitting the rock -- and this time aching as the bruising flesh from the earlier fall was hit again -- now leaning your weight onto the rock on your back, facing forward. The roughness with which you were tossed about and maneuvered was, you knew, not intentional, nor out of malice, but it always left you disoriented as your vision spun a bit. And it was only a single second before you were filled again, gasping a deep breath and reaching your hands out to claw at his back as you felt yourself stretched apart all in one motion, and your legs fell into the routine position of hooking over his arms. He liked it this way. The human way, he called it, with you on your back in some form rather than on your hands and knees, facing him rather than turning away, which had been the only way you'd done it -- you supposed the only way he had been familiar with -- for a good while. You'd introduced the position once when your arms and legs were exhausted from strain, and, perhaps to your relief, it became the most common way that the routine went down. You supposed that, deep down, no matter the way in which a person was raised, there were certain innate needs and instincts that could not be overridden, woven into the very biology of a person. For humans, intimacy, the feeling of affection, and you supposed that that itch was met for him more adequately this way. And he liked to mimic normal behaviors in that regard. You recalled a time ago, back before you were brought out here for good, the wide-eyed fascination with which he'd watch passing couples of people on the road and streets, would make an attempt to imitate the same actions, albeit lacking in the same gentleness, technique, or appropriate timing. Reaching out to grab and hold your hand (with a crushing grip) as you walked, awkwardly pressing your mouths together (so firmly that your teeth clacked and your jaw hurt). That, at least, had gotten better. Now, it was somewhat gentle, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. Gentle, but still very awkward, lacking in the rhythmic motions with which you'd expect, more like holding still but pressing firmly against you, but lapping a quick lick to your lips. You could taste blood on his lips and tongue, a permanent coppery taste that never went away. That didn't last long. It was hard to maintain the mouth contact when he started rutting into you, causing your body to rock in jerking motions up and down on the surface, and his face buried itself into your shoulder, panting shallow breaths that were warm against your flesh. And again, like clockwork, you knew how the issue of your body rocking back and forth, disrupting the rhythm, would be solved, and you inhaled as you braced yourself, first for the tightening grip of arms around your waist, and then-- You gasped a sharp breath despite your mental preparation as teeth sunk into your jugular, opposite the one with the injury, further locking your bodies together. He growled, a low throaty sound. Teeth gnawed at your shoulder before releasing and sinking down in a different spot, digging into the flesh just short of the force it would take to break it. You cursed whichever god thought it would be funny to give him abnormally sharp canines. Even with your weight leaning against the rock, a good portion of it was still being supported by his arms, which, with any normal human being, you would hope would cause enough strain to perhaps slow down the actual thrusting, but you knew better by now. Nor did you expect any kind of buildup or anything, no, you gritted your teeth at the immediate fast pace that dragged against your insides, raw and with little fluid to lessen the friction. The quickness and suddenness always left you sore, your internal parts not having enough time or stimulation to expand or prepare, so each thrust that slammed into the top of your insides sparked a shock of pain and pleasure sensation so strong your entire body jolted with the feeling. The bruising soreness of the recent abuse to the same spot -- how many times earlier today, three, four? -- heightened the sensitivity. And, as with the rest of the routine, you didn't expect words. You couldn't blame him -- talking was hard enough when he was focused, you imagined it was much harder when preoccupied with sensation, and with less blood in the brain. It also made sense that he didn't seem to process anything you said either -- any slow down or wait fell on deaf ears, or rather, non-comprehending ears. Eventually you, too, fell into the same state- "I-- hah, ah, w-wait, mnn-" -- unable to form words, unable to take in anything around you, pure sensation clouding your brain of any and all thoughts. You heard your own little cries ring out and echo through the empty forest, and soft, pleasured whines in your ear, hot breath from panting that grew faster and faster as the thrusts became more erratic and harder, slamming in and out, the wet, slapping sound ringing out with your own voice. It pushed against all the right spots, stretching you incomprehensibly full, overloading your brain with the feeling, and the harder your nails sank into his back, the harder his teeth bit down into your neck. The sparks of pain from the feeling felt small, distant, erased by the overwhelming good feeling created by adrenaline and pleasure, and the thought of how badly it would hurt later was the furthest thing from your mind in the moment. And because you knew words meant nothing in the heat of these moments, you had learned that announcing or warning for orgasm didn't matter. Neither of you needed words -- as with many things, you could communicate it without them just fine. He could still sense it, the way you clenched and your hands grasped at his hair and raked down his spine, and in response, the thrusting somehow grew harder and faster still. A perfect and clearly understood communication as clear as any verbal exchange. The squealing you made, the way your body spasmed and your back arched, was better than anything you could have said, really. You weren't... actually fully certain he understood the action as anything other than communication, like a message indicating "cum now." You assumed that was what it meant to him, since, as always, you felt the movement stop, panting as he pushed into your one more time, holding your hips as close as possible as you felt a twitching inside. It was always perfectly coordinated like that. The peak was always too short, always that same burst of feeling that you wished could last just a moment longer, leaving you panting. Heavy breaths in and out, shuddering, sweaty flesh clinging to each other. You could feel the arms that held your legs up shaking with aftershock, forehead falling to rest against the spot between the mounds of your chest. Then, after a moment, a nuzzle, slowly rubbing a cheek against your collarbones. As soon as that stopped, his head popped up again, looking up at your face with those same wide amber eyes, soft and somehow, despite everything, they always seemed so innocent and bright. A curious, but fairly neutral, content sort of wide-eyed gaze. Anger resolved. Sometimes you were grateful it was that easy. "Ok. You're... good, now." You understood without needing it explained. "Good" indicated something along the lines of fixed or resolved, the phrase "you're good" indicating, in this context, resolution. You assumed it had originated from listening to others in some context or another. You swallowed, and nodded. There was no point in fighting now. A sort of numbing aftershock had set in, and your head was spinning so much that even if you ran, you might fall over on your own without the inevitable tackling. It was a struggle for another day... the same conclusion this always, always resulted in, a conclusion you reached more and more quickly each time, but you tried to put the concern that thought sparked away, merely standing on trembling legs. "...Stupid hunting trap," you muttered, giving the remains of cord a kick into the leaves. He tilted his head and made a soft hm? of confusion. "Th-the trap," your voice was raspy. "They laid out traps for - for catching animals, the hunters, you know." He blinked for a moment as he processed your words, then shook his head, but smiled, beaming with pride. "Mm-nn, I made it. Put lots of them around here." You squinted, head jerking up to scan the treeline - sure enough, now that you looked closer, you could see several treetops dotted with similar nets full of scraps set to make a sound when triggered and struggled against. In fact, the more you gazed around, you realized there were easily dozens and dozens of similar traps, some of different styles and shapes, all perfectly lining the edge of the woods before the road. "...You won't catch things like that," you muttered. "It's too close to the end of the woods." Another slightly confused stare. He shook his head. "Traps are... for you." You could always count on him for two things. Undying loyalty, and obtuse honesty. You blinked at him, expression flat in blunt surprise, then, with a crooked smile, you let out a single huff of bitter, tired laughter. You were numbed to the point that you were, at the very least, able to recognize the humor of it all. Another way of coping, perhaps. It only occurred to you then, as your thoughts cleared, how relief had washed over you when the lone wolf had run out into the night, but your mind had not been focused on your own violation. You remembered your words. Run, he'll hurt you. Your only concern in that moment had been his safety. The thought set off some sort of alarm bell in your head, but the utter exhaustion made it difficult to place much concern in anything.

Your legs were trembling in aftershock, numb and heavy, but it wasn't as if that mattered. Even as you briefly put a hand to the stone beside you to lean your weight onto in an effort to stand, you knew you wouldn't be walking anyway, that wasn't part of the routine. And sure enough, as you got about halfway upward, arms wrapped around your waist instead, and you were roughly maneuvered, tossed like a ragdoll, knocking the breath out of you as you were tossed over his shoulder. "Okay, we're going home, now." He started taking a few heavy steps forward, not even struggling in the slightest to carry your full bodyweight, instead walking as if you were light as air. You didn't protest. You slumped over defeatedly, merely casting your gaze all around, trying desperately to memorize the locations of at least a few of the traps in the dark, but knowing full well in the back of your mind you'd never get past them all. No matter how you may outsmart them, you could never win. It occurred to you that, in a way, you were the one falling for the same trick over and over, continuously placing a ridiculous hope in escape and falling for your own foolishness time and time again. Perhaps that made you a bit more like the animals than you liked to admit.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Find Me Again

Wanted to write smth for Pyramid Head since I’ve always loved the big guy!!!

Summary: In an attempt to escape your ex, you crashed the vehicle you two were in. Instead, you wind up in a place that burns and smells of ash. You find an unlikely ally, and beloved companion amidst the nightmare and come to fall in love with that metal-headed executioner. But you wind up separated, only to come back to him in a new game, a new world, hosted by a spider-legged God. Or! In which you and Pyramid Head are a thing in Silent Hill and you get sent back to the outer world. Trying to hunt down Silent Hill again only to find yourself in the realm of Fog. And soon to meet an old friend again.

!!!Minors and ageless blogs do not like or reblog as this is an Adult work, please respect my boundary!!!

Reblogs > Likes! Please Reblog if you leave a like :D Esp if you wanna part two!

Fandom: Dead by daylight / Silent Hill

Relationship: Pyramid Head/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, canon typical violence, mentions of a virginity kink and corruption kink, Pyramid head man handles you (consensually), Reader is gender neutral and ambiguous, implied past abuse from readers ex

Words: 5k

_________

This wasn’t your first nightmare, but you sure hoped it was your last. 

This world had rules, it seemed. Fairly simple. A god-like being called The Entity wanted you all to play its twisted game. Even being fair enough to allow you Survivors to come back in one piece. Despite the agony of its spider-like claws and the hook impaling into your backs, forever leaving a scar. 

You weren’t helpless, none of you were. It was a fair game laid out. Get out, figure out if you were going to go back and save your teammates, or figure out if escaping was more important. Run from the killers that played your group like you were a sport for them. 

Hunters chasing game. 

In terms of high stakes, you like to think you’d had worse done to you. You’d been in a dark, foggy world once. You'd assumed it had been on accident as you inhaled the ash-filled world with your head spinning.

~Rest under the cut~

Your ex had not been the kindest, putting it lightly. A sick person they’d been. Gaslighting, abusive, not afraid to get physical with you. You two had been driving. And you remember just being so scared, suddenly so overwhelmed with this fear as they’d spoken to you. Telling you that you were really in for it when the car stopped. Words that sounded like a high shriek in your ears from your fear. 

You’d taken the wheel then from their hands, whipping it to the side in the hopes of crashing the vehicle. Unafraid of the death you had expected. 

Instead, you’d woken up in an unfamiliar place. Black and white, the taste of ash heavy in the air. You were a bit dizzy getting out of the car, grunting with the effort to shove the door open. Coughing from the taste of the smoke coming from the vehicle. 

It’d taken you a minute to get away from the flaming car, only for you to realize that your partner had not been in the car. Their door long since open and their body nowhere to be found. The only hint they had even been there had been the blood on the glass and the footsteps in the ash. 

Your heart pulsed in your throat as nausea took over, your eyes looking towards the ground where footsteps were left in the ash beside yours. Tracking towards your window before leaving towards the nearby abandoned town. 

Your lips had quivered, your eyes darting towards the street in the hopes you could simply walk back into the woods where you’d remembered you two were. But to your horror and confusion, the bridge had been totally demolished. Disappearing into a thick fog just past its creaking, swinging metal. 

So that led to you having to stand up on wobbly legs and find your way into the town. Feeling your hands shake as you watched the footsteps in the ash slowly disappear into nothing nearby a building’s alleyway. As if they’d been taken by something invisible. 

The sirens had come later in the day when you’d found a group of women who were screaming at you and calling you impure. A witch. When the black and darkness had taken over, the world decaying around you and these women running for a church-like building, you realized then that this was not a normal town. That this had to be a nightmare, a dream, some sort of other world. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

That’s all you could think when you heard this god-awful sound of screeching following the siren. A man with a pyramid-like structure had come from seemingly nowhere. His walk wobbled with the sword he was dragging across the ground- something you could only imagine was unbelievably heavy. He seemed to have a vendetta, a path towards the women who were screaming ‘Demon’, ‘Devil’, and ‘Executioner' at the being heading right for them. 

You don’t think you could get the image out of your eyes of him picking one up off the stairs of the church and peeling the flesh from her body like a banana. And though he never spoke a word, in your heart you knew he thought this was a way of ‘cleansing’ her. Of removing someone who could hurt something he defended. 

You think you had more to fear than just your ex lurking around here. 

At some point, you realized this was no longer you trying to find a way out of the town, but rather trying to survive. No one was your friend as far as you were concerned. And anytime you heard those sirens you knew nowhere was safe. The church, assumingly, was safe from the Executioner running around. But anywhere else had more of those creatures.  

You learned pretty quickly to avoid the hospitals after getting an eyeful of nurses and far too many cuts on your arms that you worried would become infected. Learning to avoid the Executioner- but not because you had met him. 

But because you could see what he could do. 

What if he had thought you needed to be cleansed? That’s all you could imagine whenever you caught even a peek of him. How he could lift you up effortlessly and grab your flesh, peel it right from your muscle and toss you aside like yesterday’s trash. 

And then one day had come the ultimate decision. 

Your ex had found you, and you felt nausea overcoming you in a wave when you’d seen them. Realizing that even in this strange world, that for once you had felt free. Free from the fear they gave you, free from the pain, free to laugh at your own jokes that you told yourself. 

They’d practically snarled at you, grabbing your arm and starting to yell at you. Making you feel small all over again as tears welled up in your eyes. Fear making your lips quiver and not having the strength to shake them off. 

You remember the loud sound of the siren, how your ex had gone silent as the world began to peel away and fear settled into their eyes. You remember the terrible screech of the blade on the concrete. 

You remember for the first time since you’d gotten there, that your first instinct wasn’t to run away. 

The pyramid-headed being that you had come to mentally call the Executioner was at the end of the road. You didn’t think as you’d broken from your ex and gone running for him instead, despite the yelling behind you. You remember thinking you didn’t care if that great blade came slamming onto you, or if he’d take you and skin you like he’d done that woman. You just remember thinking- 

You just remember thinking... 

Anyone but them. Anything but them. 

You remember sobbing your eyes out when you’d gotten in front of him. How the Executioner had paused and cocked its helmed head with a loud, groaning creak. You expected the pain, you begged for it, blubbering and not one of your proudest moments. The fearless feeling you’d had when you’d grabbed the steering wheel returning to you. You just wanted to get away from them- 

And the blade had slammed down. 

Right next to you. 

A slow crouch, a kneel of one of his legs and that same groan echoing from his helm. A dirtied hand had cupped your chin, tilting your head this way and that as you sobbed hysterically. Tears poured down your cheeks as you pleaded for him to kill you. Even going so far as to take that large hand and pull it off your chin, sliding it down to your throat where your lips could only form the words and no sound could leave you. 

It had all happened so quick. One second you were pleading this Executioner to end you, and the next you’d heard that terrible creak and watched him stand. You wanted the pain, closing your eyes tight and steeling yourself for it. 

But instead, he’d kept walking. 

Walking right past you and towards your ex. 

That same sound you’ll never forget. Of them screaming your name in fear for once. And how, for once, in that moment, you felt a sick sense of glee. To not be the one full of fear, to not be the one standing there in terror and waiting for the agony that was to come. To not be the one wondering what hell would come the next day, but too scared to leave for something worse that would come. 

You didn’t watch. You didn’t need to. Not with the screaming and the sounds that echoed behind you. 

You expected him to come back and finish the job. After all, maybe he liked the idea of tormenting a soul. Instead, you’d opened your eyes when you heard his heavy breathing to see him standing before you, a hand outstretched to you and almost this confused groan echoing from that pyramid. 

You’d taken his hand that day and followed where he led. It’s as if he took a protecting role over you, not allowing anyone else to touch you so long as the world was blackened and decayed. When the world was made of ash, you took your chances in exploring, hoping to find some answers to this world, something that would make sense so you could help in some form or another. 

You learned he was a protector, originally to a little girl. And that the women you’d met were a part of a cult that believed them to be the sinners. Specifically, that the little girl had been a witch. More and more information being found led you to believe that because you hadn’t done anything wrong in life, that you weren’t actually supposed to be here. 

You guess it was due to you being in the vehicle and causing the accident. But the cause was for good reason, not simply because you were trying to kill someone for the hell of it. That’s what you had come to the conclusion of, at least. Something you open up about when Pyramid Head- something you fondly referred to him as- comes around once again when the sirens go off. 

You think he understands when you speak. Though he couldn’t speak back, he could nod or shake his head, making slow gestures with his hands until you could understand him in turn. You still remember feeding him a can of peaches for the first time, watching this long tendril come out and wrap around the whole thing of peaches and zip it underneath his pyramid. The loud crunch of metal heard and yet no knowledge in your mind that he even had a mouth. 

You had been there for about two years trying to figure out how to get out. Two years was a long time, and a long time to share time with another person. You’d ended up falling for the big guy, taking comfort in his touch and offering him what you could only assume was the first gentle touches of his life. Kissing his hands, helping wash them, kissing his helm and feeling unafraid if its edges cut your lips. 

You’d gotten bold with him. Feeling your confidence that you used to have before you had been with your ex begin showing itself again. A bit flirty in nature. 

Sometimes you’d take his hands and wrap one around your throat. Murmuring how he wouldn’t hurt you unless you asked for it. Always delighting in that low sound that would come from him. The low groan and how his fingers would twitch before sliding down your neck and shoulder to squeeze you fondly and keep walking. 

Memories of how he’d lead you to showers to cleanse yourself, of feeling his hands on you, of being able to taunt and tease him. You learned quick of his thing about corruption, anytime you found a new outfit of white or reminded him of you being untouched. How his breathing would become heavier, his hands a bit rougher on you, or his loud groans and growls when he could only thrust between your thighs without ever entering you. 

Taunting and teasing a being known as a Devil and a God around these parts may not have been your smartest thing to do, but damn if you didn’t get off on the power trip of it. Similarly getting off on how gentle he could be if you warned him to be. How those large hands you’d seen rip people apart would caress your hips with unknown gentleness. 

Finding your way out had happened on the second year on accident. Someone had come into this place you’d come to know as Silent Hill. A detective sent to find you and your ex who were deemed missing persons; One of your friends had called it in, telling them that your ex was a danger to you and that you could be found dead and not just missing. 

You aren’t sure how the detective found a way out. You remember screaming when he’d taken your hand, ushering you out with him as you’d tried to rip yourself from him. Hearing the loud groan following the sirens overhead. You never even got to see him again, the world all fading to white so quickly. 

They labelled you with Foul Play in the end when you’d finally gotten out. They also labelled you delusional, the investigator telling you that you suffered from Stockholm syndrome for the ‘beast’. Not that they believed him either, they labeled him delusional. He was told he’d heard too many of your stories and therefor unfit for the job since he agreed with you. That he couldn’t separate fact from fiction. 

What a mess your life had been after that. Each night lying awake in tears because you never got to say Goodbye. Always wondering if Pyramid Head ever thought someone finally had gotten to you before the sirens had gone off and he could find you again. 

You had decided to do traveling after that, maybe feeling foolish trying to find your way back into the town. And one night, you thought you had. You thought you’d heard those sirens, feeling a fog washing over you and feeling a sharp glimmer of hope. 

And then you’d woken up here, at a camp site with your new found ‘Survivors’ who worried over you and consoled you when you broke down into tears. But not at having to survive another nightmare, no. 

That you hadn’t found your way back into the first one. 

At least there were people here who sort of understood what you’d explained and the agony that came with it. Some of the Survivors had taken to mingling with the Killers when the designated time came around. The Entity liked the pain of those in love having to hurt each other, but some couples liked the chase. Feng and The Doctor as an example, or Kate with the Huntress. They didn’t get pain from being chased, they liked it. 

When the time came for mingling on that one week of every few months, some Survivors would leave to the different realms. Disappearing into the fog in the hopes it would take them to where they wanted the first time. Whether to spend time with a loved one, or to taunt. Some Survivors stayed behind- Quentin and Laurie never left, for fear they’d wander into the fog into the arms of those who craved to do worse than just kill them. 

And then one day, Cheryl had come into your camp. 

She talked of a school, of a world that tasted of ash, of the creatures with terrible faces. Of the cult-like people she had come across, the death and decay, losing her father- 

And a horrible monster that chased her with a groaning triangle upon its shoulders. 

You felt your breath still as a few pairs of eyes glanced to you. Your eyes flickered over her, and she must have caught the recognition in your eyes because she’d looked at you with a breath of relief. “You’ve been there too?” 

“Yeah,” You managed to croak out. “Was there for a long time, kiddo.” 

You bond with her quicker than any of the other Survivors over this. She’s a kid, you learn, just turned 17 not long ago. She’s been through more hardship than anyone her age should have ever faced and you can’t help but feel a sibling-like bond with her. She’s here for a reason, you know, just like all of you. Her surviving qualities were high, her determination just as so. 

You bond over what you both had seen, and you admit that the being Cheryl couldn’t figure out if he wanted to protect her or destroy, was someone you had loved just the same a long time ago. You explain your side just as she explains hers, explaining that she might have been the same child he was set to protect, but something good. Maybe not even her own person. She tells you of her pain and confusion, tears spilling down her cheeks as you hold her through it. 

You don’t ask her who her designated Killer was. You’re not sure if you want that sort of hope, nor do you want to open any wounds for her. 

Like all the Survivors do for the others who join, she’s given explanations and tips to this twisted game. Cheryl insists she’s been through worse, throwing a look your way that makes you feel awful that you knew exactly what she meant. At least in this game of chase, there was always a guarantee to come back, some sort of rhythm to it.  

In the world where you two had seen the stuff made of nightmares, you can understand her confidence now. But she’s just a kid, something a majority of all of you look around at each other and to Quentin who was just a teenager himself as well.  

When the games begin again and four survivors are chosen, taken from the camp where they shall awaken in a realm they may or may not be familiar with, the rest of you carry on as normal. You lie awake most nights, feeling this strange feeling in your heart as if someone or something was calling you. 

Recently you’d been having fitful nights of rest, but not quite nightmares. Where the world tasted of ash, and yet the world was calm all the same. Flashes of metal, flashes of blood, flashes of large hands caressing you and hearing yourself gasp, followed by the low groan of metal.  

Sometimes you dream of him. The Investigator’s words of Stockholm syndrome curling in your mind. Even as you dream of how gentle he’d been with you, hands running over you, bringing you cans of food that he found, or even comics or stuffies to entertain you. Memories or dreams. Dreams involving things you never got to do or say. Of where his hands wrap around your throat and you beg him to squeeze harder. 

Your current dream is a little different. 

You feel like your body is being run through syrup, hard to move your limbs or have any control over them, but you’re walking. The whispers of the Entity and its voice that sounded of 20 people with varying emotions calling to you. It taunts you, as it had taunted many others. 

Normally this meant it was choosing you for an upcoming match, preparing you to put on your fighting spirit. 

And yet, the whispers come to a halt all of a sudden. The loud groan of metal and the screech of a blade upon the ground, biting into unseen concrete. You can’t speak when doors open in front of you, the blinding light outlining a silhouette. An...awfully familiar one at that. 

Your lips part to speak, but nothing comes from you. And when you go to step forward again, you watch the giant metal pyramid atop his shoulders turn for you. A loud groan as it tilts to the side in a hard gesture, one he’d always done to you. You can’t help but smile, outreaching without thinking about it, only to watch in puzzlement as he seems to be glowing a strange orange. The blade suddenly looking more menacing with a slow shake of his pyramid of metal and the blade curling in his grasp to be pointed. 

Right at you. 

Your eyebrows knit, confused, trying again to call out to him. Your hand outstretches again, and you’re aware of the cage-like bindings around you. Your heart crushing all at once as he suddenly charges you and the blade raising high above his head- 

You awake before it makes contact. Gasping as your cheek is set on cold concrete in a dark room full of desks. You sit up with a startle, your head whipping around you in the quiet, only able to hear the shake of your own breath. 

You hear once last final whisper of the Entity, a cruel murmur of, “Have fun. And do not forget to thank Us.” 

The world comes to you slowly as you’re able to get up, aware of the breathing to your right and look over to find Claudette waking up as well. You two make eye contact, and she scrunches her brows in confusion. A silent question of where you were. You look around with her, swallowing thickly at the sight of decay and hearing the all too familiar loud sound of a siren ringing around you. 

You look back at her again, your expression possibly reading all she needs before she’s making a gesture for you to lead the way. 

The Entity liked toying with its new survivors and killers alike, bringing familiar surroundings to them. For you, it had been the hospital you had been kept at when they deemed you unfit for society. And it seems like for Cheryl, her unhappy place had been the place you had even tried to go back and search for. Though you knew the school wouldn’t be how you remembered it, nor would it be for her either. Hooks would be placed, new dead ends, twists and turns with only one monster walking about. 

You swallow hard, wondering if that dream had been a threat, a warning, or some sort of prediction? If...If your Protector was in here with you, did the Entity change his memories somehow? Or did he not remember you at all anyway? Was there any guarantee what he thought? 

What if he did remember, but held a grudge and thought you had abandoned him?  

You were so uncertain. Your hands shaking as you work on the wires of the generator with Claudette on the opposite side of you, following the gentle hum of it coming to life. You two work through it pretty well, no increase rate of your heartbeat, no strange humming, no sign of the Shape with how quiet it was. 

Nothing. 

It’s...eerily quiet, and you’re unsure where the other two are. 

With a pop and a click, the lights crank on and the generator is complete. You both stand, sharing a look without words to start working out your next approach. 

Then it happens. 

All at once, you feel the thrum of your heartbeat increase, watching Claudette share a look with you. She holds a finger to her lips, pointing at the stairs to imply she thinks whoever it is had to be upstairs. You make a motion for her to go ahead on without you. 

You watch her nod and head down the hallway into the thick mist to either find teammates or another generator. 

You feel foolish as you stand by the lit generator, feeling...You're not entirely sure, hope maybe? If that dream had been some sort of prediction, maybe you could live with him not recognizing you if it meant you could finally tell him you were sorry. To explain you never meant to leave him, that you’d been forced to. That no one understood your desire to find that wretched place again. 

That you couldn’t find your way home. 

To your left is a long hallway, to your right is the lit-up generator thrumming to life. Your back is to a wall, your eyes on the staircase and feeling your throat tighten. Your body screams at you to run, to hide, to stop being so foolish.  

But when he comes down those stairs, a groan to the familiar metal atop his head, and a sword clicking off each staircase? You can’t help but feel relief course through your veins and your lips trembling as they part. He seems dead set on a hunt, a mission towards your generator, before the pyramid atop his shoulders seems to tilt towards you. 

All at once, your Protector stops at the bottom of the stairs, looking directly at you with the point of his pyramid aimed at you. Your heartbeat feels like it’s in your throat, your breath shaking and your legs feeling like jelly under you. 

Your eyes flicker to the Great sword still with its tip upon the last staircase, but they quickly go up to the pyramid when you hear the low groan of it tilting. 

“Hey, big guy,” You croak out, your voice sounding hoarser and thicker than you wanted it to. You watch as his head tilts again, subtly and with yet another groan, his hand gripping tighter on the hilt of his blade. 

You swallow thickly, feeling the tension in the air and almost sensing his confusion. “I’m right here, do you remember me?” You start again, your voice wavering just as your eyes betray you and dot with tears. Emotions overwhelm you, and you’re sure the Entity is getting off on its curious desires to see such a dynamic like this. Where agony coursed through you, confusion, mentally begging to see anything on him that said he did remember you. 

“Please,” You whimper out, feeling your knees wobbling and your body unable to turn and run. Held perfectly still like a deer in headlights. 

He takes a step forward, and your knees finally give out under you as you slide down the wall with tears spilling down your cheeks. Only feeling more pathetic as he comes closer and closer with each slow step. 

“Please,” You whimper out again, more desperate as you tilt your head up towards him when he stands in front of you. Your neck strains at this angle, your eyes blurred with tears. You don’t feel scared, you only feel what could only be described as yearning. Longing for this man. Like as if you had been but a teenage romance and one of you had to move away, finally seeing your other half again and feelings coming rushing back. 

“Please,” You choke out. Pyramid Head has stopped in front of you now, the low metallic groan heard as you blearily see him through your tears. You reach for him with shaking fingertips, your breathing heavy in your own ears and your heart rate increasing. 

You expect your dream to come true. For his great blade to come slamming down onto you or for him to toss you over his shoulder and drag you kicking and screaming to a hook. 

You don’t expect his gloved hand to delicately take your outstretched hand. 

You tense, waiting for him to yank you. But instead, his hand clasps over yours, his thumb running over your knuckles. You manage to blink your tears away, your breath shaking and looking at him in awe. He has no face to show emotion, not even a voice, but you can feel it in how he touches you. The same way you looked at him. 

Disbelief. A dream. Not real. 

You’re yanked to your feet and it makes you yelp. But before you can even react, he’s yanking you upwards and over one shoulder. One hand firmly grabbing your ass and the other doing the slow drag of his blade across the ground.  

You don’t...feel endangered. Perhaps that is foolish of you, but all you can really concentrate on is how Pyramid Head feels. Seeing the lines of his back through his apron flexing with each step and each press of his fingertips against your ass. 

The Entity had told you ‘Have fun and don’t forget to thank us’. Now you think you understand what it means when you are taken to a room and set on top of a desk.  

You don’t have to wait for him to do anything before your legs are wound around his waist, taking his hand that grabs onto the curve of your side and guiding it up your body. You press his fingers around your throat, delighting in how you can hear the sound of his metallic groan have an edge of a growl into it. “Did you miss me?” 

The press of his hand tells you enough. You give off a breathy, delighted laugh when his hips hump forward against yours. A desperate sort of groan leaving him when you reach up to hook your fingers under the metal of his pyramid and jerk him forward. Gently pressing a kiss to the pointed tip. 

“Made you wait long enough, I think. Wanna take me, sweetheart?” You murmur out to him. Another breathy laugh leaving you when Pyramid Head’s hand falls from your throat to grab your hip instead to try and jerk you closer. As if trying to fuck you through your clothes as his hips hump against yours. 

Desperate. Wanting you. His sword clattering to the floor so both his hands can grip your hips to try and yank you forward with a low groan. 

“Thatta boy.” 

You were definitely in for a fun match. Not to mention you save your fellow Survivors some sweat and tears. 

You just hope you won’t be too loud... 

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

did i just bingeread everything you posted? absolutely. do i regret it. absolutely not. ✨you are an amazing writer!!!💕 And while we’re at it can i request a scenario where Niragi goes crazy and scares his s/o really bad but he gets kinda soft and tries to comfort them later? If that makes sense haha And also a giant thank you for writing in gender neutral!!🥺💕

Thank you so much for reading my fics! I’m honestly really flattered haha 😅 Here is you’re request!

Comfort From A Tormentor | Suguru Niragi

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Niragi (ft. OC)

Summary: Niragi tries to comfort you, his S/O, after you witnessed his murderous behaviour for the first time

Warnings: toxic relationship, blood, murder, graphic violence, pushy behaviour, reader watches someone being killed, going into shock, panic attack, quite intense trauma, slight abuse of power

Word Count: 2.4k

*reader is gender-neutral

You always knew that Niragi wasn’t the kindness at The Beach, which was quite blatantly obvious. When people heard you guys had gotten together and were now in an established relationship, you had many people express their concerns privately with you, labelling him as an evil and violent character. You always shook it off, because you’d seen nothing of the sort during the time you had spent with him.

The worst you ever saw him say or do was a threat, or a short punch to the ribs as a warning, but even then the victims usually deserved it. You hadn’t experienced one of Niragi’s ‘outbreaks’ that people have discussed with you about. You started to believe it was all rumours to keep you away from him until he lost it one night in front of you, causing you to believe everything you had been told about him.

It was a usual night at The Beach, people parading around the pool and filling their brains and sinuses with alcohol, allowing them to forget their shared hardships for the evening.

You sat in a small booth that was excluded from the rest of the crowd. Your head was leaning on Niragi’s broad shoulder as you watched everyone dance to the blaring music. You felt the bass vibrate through the ground and in your chest, making you excited from the fun atmosphere.

Niragi lifted his hand and pet your head softly. “You okay little mouse?” he checked, bringing his face closer to yours and placing his lips on your cheek. You turned your head towards him and brushed your lips on his. “Yeah, I’m just tired,” you whispered. Niragi smirked and rubbed his hand along your bare leg. “We can go to bed soon, let’s just stay a little longer.”

Niragi shifted underneath you and stood up, making you lean back against the cushioned backrest. “I’m going to get a drink,” he stated bluntly before picking up his rifle from the small table that sat in front of you. “Don’t let anyone touch you otherwise you’ll regret it.”

You felt uneasy at his threat, but you knew if you just listened to him he would never carry through his brutal promises. He wasn’t that hard of a personality to figure out.

You watched as he strolled away towards the bar, leaving you by yourself and cold in the booth. You moved your eyes from him and looked around to everyone else, watching a few people jump into the pool and laugh together. You wished Niragi had less of a important placing at The Beach so he could relax like everyone else instead of constantly having to deal with stupid drunken dickheads causing trouble.

You looked over towards the bar again to see if you could spot Niragi, but couldn’t see him from where you were sitting. You needed to go to the bathroom and you were wondering if you could make it before he returned. You shrugged your shoulders and stood up on your feet to leave. It wouldn’t be that long, and besides if he did some back to you not being there, you were sure he wouldn’t mind. It’s just the bathroom.

You quickly made your way past the few crowds of dancing bodies. The smell of sweat and alcohol filled your nostrils as you pushed through, making your face scrunch up in disgust. No matter how long you spend there, you would never grow used to the party smell.

You made your way to the lobby to get to the bathroom located there. It was a quiet walk and hardly anyone was in the halls. It made you more calm, knowing that no one was around to bring you a hard time.

But unfortunately, you thought too soon. As you arrived at the lobby and were crossing the main lounge area, a young man with jet black hair and blue board shorts stood up from one of the couches. You failed to notice him earlier due to him being hidden behind the backrest.

“Oh hey!” he exclaimed your way excitedly. “I thought you’d come here. I saw you drink a rather large cocktail earlier so I just guessed you’d show up some time soon or later.”

You froze in shock, looking the man up and down with confusion written on your face. “What?”

He shook his head as he slowly made his way over to your frame. “Forget it. I wanted to get you away from your psychotic side piece so I could get a chance with you without being killed.” His smile was a bit too creepy for your liking, bringing an unpleasant tingling feeling up your back.

You stepped back as he attempted to reach out and grab your hand. He slowly recoiled with a frown on his tanned face. You shook your head and hands, denying his movements towards you. “No thanks actually. I’m not interested,” you insisted, turning your back to try and escape into the bathroom.

You felt your heart drop from the sudden grip on your wrist, pulling you back towards the annoying man and into his chest. He lifted your chin so you were looking at him and crashed his lips onto yours.

You panicked, ripping your arm out of his grip and pushing him away from you. He stumbled back a bit before smirking at your angered expression.

“What the fuck was that?!” you screamed at him, wiping his saliva off of your mouth in disgust. “Did no one ever teach you what no means?!”

Before the man could respond, a piercing sound of gunshots rang through the room. You covered your ears and dropped to the ground in fear of being hit. You looked towards the man and saw him crouching as well with a few bullet marks scattering the carpet around him. They barely missed him.

You kept your head down low in case of another load being shot at any moment, but you were grabbed by your upper arm and pulled up roughly after a few short moments. Niragi stood there, angered expression on his face and tightening his grip on your arm. You felt your blood pumping with adrenaline from his movements.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he hissed into your face, being way too quiet for your liking.

You didn’t know what to say. Your words were trapped in your throat, being held there by the shock of the gunshots and Niragi’s anger towards you.

“I told you to not let anyone touch you. And how hard is it to stay in one place for five minutes?!” His fist moved from your arm to your jaw, holding it tightly so you would face him. Tears were developing in your eyes. You tried to stop them from rolling down your cheeks in fear of angering Niragi more, but the pain throbbing in your jaw made it nothing but more difficult. This wasn’t the Niragi you knew. He’s never laid a violent hand on you before.

“Niragi, stop,” you whimpered out, holding onto his wrist that was hurting you. “It hurts.”

“I don’t care. You deserve to be hurt after not listening to me.” Niragi finally released his grip from your jaw. You dropped to the ground, clutching your face in pain and letting out quiet sobs. The look in his eyes was menacing, making him seem unpredictable. You were terrified, pushing your legs against the carpet to separate yourself from his tall frame.

You watched as he turned away from you and walked towards the young man, who scrambled to his feet to try and run away. But Niragi leaped towards him and grabbed his shoulder before he could do so. He pulled him back harshly onto the ground and placed a boot on his chest, keeping him there. The man struggled until Niragi held the barrel of his gun against his forehead, making the petrified man freeze underneath him.

You watched in horror as he leaned down and pressed harder and harder on his bare chest, making the defenseless man cry out in fear of breaking a rib. “You’ve made a huge mistake my friend,” he growled, sticking his tongue out and showing off his piercing. “You dare touch what’s mine, you suffer the consequences.”

You leant up against the concrete wall, feeling too weak and in shock to stand up. You cried and screamed as you watched Niragi stamp his foot incredibly harshly on the man’s head several times. Blood poured down the side of his face and he put his hands up in defense, which deemed useless against Niragi’s strength. Niragi didn’t stop, moving his aim from the man’s face to his chest, hands, stomach, groin and thighs. His screams of pain and suffering echoed around the room, ringing in your ears and making your heart ache. Yes, he did attempt to force himself onto you, but hearing another human screeching out for help when you could do nothing was one of the most painful things you could ever inflict on an empath such as yourself.

You shook violently and covered your eyes with your hands, not wanting to see anymore. You wanted to disappear, to evaporate into the wind. You wanted to wake up back at home, in your safe warm bed from before the Borderland. You felt sick from the contrasting differences between the world in your head and the one you were physically in. Why couldn’t you just fade away?

You felt a presence in front of your shivering form, and you slowly peeled away your hands to reveal the abuser in front of you, looking into your eyes worryingly. Your stomach dropped from catching a glimpse of the blood splattered lightly across his attractive features. You felt nausea building in your stomach, making you want to throw up.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Niragi lifted a hand and tried to place it on your cheek, but you flinched away violently and screamed as you crawled onto your hands and knees, attempting to quickly escape him. It was deemed almost impossible to do considering the emotional state you were in at that moment. You just watched your lover beat a man until the light left his eyes, you weren’t going to recover from the shock quickly.

You cried as he grabbed your ankle and roughly pulled you back. You struggled against his grip and tried to shake his hands off of your shoulders and waist desperately. You were terrified that he was going to hurt you, beat you until you were dead just like his other victim.

“Baby! Why are you so scared?! Hold still!” Niragi cried, attempting to hold your thrashing body against his to quiet you down. He was feeling desperate and helpless, what was happening to you? You’ve never done this before. He thought maybe you were in shock and thinking that he was the man trying to force himself on you.

“Y/N! It’s me! I’m here, you’re okay!” he cried in a frightened tone. He managed to pull you roughly by your waist into his lap and held the back of your head against his chest area. He began to shake himself, being so worried about your emotional state. He felt you suddenly stop struggling in his arms, hearing your soft sobs of fear against his shirt.

“What’s going on baby? You’re scaring me,” he groaned into your neck. You shivered against him, feeling too weak to even push yourself from his chest. You could do nothing but sit in his lap, terrified of the man who was attempting to comfort you.

“It’s okay. He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore,” he cooed, stroking your hair in an attempt to calm your rapid breathing. He let out a shaky breath, being on the verge of tears. He felt his heart rapidly pumping in his chest, thumping against his ribcage. He was at least comforted at the fact that you were back in his arms, away from everyone and everything that wanted to separate you from him.

He leaned his head back and looked at your face tucked into his chest. He saw your tight hands scrunching his black and white button-up into themselves, making him feel soft at how vulnerable and small you looked.

“It’s okay baby. I’ve got you. I’ll always protect you.”

You tried to level your breathing, listening to Niragi’s heartbeat to focus on something else other than the fact that he had just murdered someone in front of you.

Everything everyone had said was true. Niragi was purely an evil person, filled to the brim with violence and murderous impulses. You repented your doubts so badly, wishing that you had listened. But you chose to give him a chance to be a good person for once in his life, and he threw it out the window. Only now, you couldn’t escape him. You had to now live with being the object of a murderer’s desires.

You felt Niragi snake his arms underneath your knees and shoulders gently, standing up from the ground with you in his arms. You clutched onto him from around his neck, tears still slowly travelling down your face.

“Let’s get you to bed, hmm? My little baby must be so tired after all that.”

‘After all that’. He said it like it was nothing more than a bad day. Your boyfriend just killed someone in front of you and then just forced you back into his arms. This wasn’t a bad day, it was a traumatic experience that would stay with you for the rest of your life, remembering every detail and image of the event vividly.

“Niragi,” you mumbled. He glanced down to your weak frame, face going soft from the tired expression across your features. “Shh, don’t speak. Just go to sleep. I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.” He leaned down and placed a tender kiss to the top of your head.

You didn’t want him to be there when you woke. In fact, you didn’t want to wake up at all. You felt miserable and defenseless in his arms, wishing for nothing more than to wake up and for it to be all some horrific dream.

But you didn’t wake up, because it was your reality. Niragi’s delusional, obsessive and abusive mindset was nothing new anymore, it was normal everyday life for you from then on.

[aquanova99]

Sana sana Colita de Rana

➽───────────────❥ ➽───────────────❥

Summary: Kebi knows just what to do when you don’t feel well.

A/N: if you get the title for this I love you so much 😂 I’m so sorry for lack of updates I can’t seem to finish any wips lately.

➽───────────────❥ ➽───────────────❥

You were starting to question whether waiting to turn you was a good idea. You and Kebi had agreed (well, mainly Kebi pushed) to let you remain human until you had lived a few more years. Had more human experiences. You only had a year to go really, but the down side of staying human is that you had to push through all the hard stuff.

All the stuff you couldn’t wait to never deal with again. Because on days like today when moving even an inch made you feel like throwing up…well you would take being a vampire any day. You knew Kebi would be in any second. You had managed to keep the groans muffled. But you knew how exceptional her hearing could be she would figure it out soon enough.

That and you hadn’t slept all night, your stomach cramping with the slightest move of your body. You knew you were too tense, you should try and not have your body curled and clenched. But every time you relaxed or adjusted a scream threatened to escape your throat. You checked your phone…dammit it was already ten in the morning. You never slept in. Kebi was going to break your door down any second.

“Y/n?” You heard her knock

“Yeah?” God even you could hear your voice sounded sick

“Is everything alright?” She was being nice, you both knew she could probably tell something was wrong. Still, may as well try and downplay it.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

Well. That did it. You door swung open,

“You know I do not appreciate being lied to.”

“Then why ask?” You grumbled as you pulled the blankets over your face. You clutched your stomach as another wave of nausea me pain ran through you. You felt Kebi at you side in an instant.

“My heart, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Your body let out a whimper as your body aches returned. Chills running in and out of your body. You could feel Kebis hesitancy. Her instinct was to run Amun and call Carlisle. At the same time she wanted to fix you herself. She finally relented and out a hand in your head. You couldn’t help recoil, guilt immediately hitting you as you thought about how Kebi might feel.

“Y/n you’re burning up.”

“I’m freezing.” You felt a gust of air whoosh past your head twice. Kebi left and returned with blankets and a thick fleece hoodie.

“That stupid virus that’s been going around.” You heard her curse under her breath, “have you even been able to get any sleep?”

“Not really. “ you admitted, you had tried but it was broken sleep and you were exhausted. You moved as slow as possible to get the hoodie on. You tried to curl in again.

“My love, you need to relax your body it’s going to make it worse.”

“But if I relax it, it’s hurts more.”

“I know,” she said as she began running her hands through your hair. “I’ll be right back.”

Now that Kebi knew you let yourself release some of those screams from the body aches that continued to come in waves. Kebi came back in with a tray of food.

“Kebi, I love you but I don’t think I can’t eat anything right now.”

“Don’t worry it’s nothing heavy, I had Tia go out and hunt down a place to get some soup. And I have some white rice because you don’t like just liquid if you want it.”

“You know you could just turn me early. I’d stop being sick.”

“Don’t even go there we agreed to wait awhile to turn you. And we’ll be closer in physical age anyway.”

“You’re already centuries older than me.”

She rolled her eyes and handed you a roll, “the carbs should be more filling. These are your favorite, yes?”

You felt like tearing up the way Kebi had remembered all of the things you said in passing who knows how long ago. She was good at avoiding the subject. You both knew you wouldn’t be able to push out your date, the volturi already knew about you. You just didn’t know why she was so hesitant to change you sooner. Kebi gently propped you up and helped you eat what you could. Your temperature was slowly stabilizing. Kebi whisked everything away and came back before you could really register her absence. She sat next to you and you immediately decided to rest your head on her lap.

She gently put the back of her hand to your cheek. “Tsk, you’re still to warm. Maybe we should have called Carlisle. It’s been several years since any of us have studied modern medicine.”

“Kebi, I‘ll be fine. Just stay with me for a while.”

“You better be. I don’t want this to be an excuse just so I can turn you earlier.”

“Well now I kinda hope I get worse.”

You heard her sigh as she began to run one of her hands down your hair. The other rested on your forehead, probably an attempt to actually lower your body temperature. You felt your eyelids getting heavy, drooping as sleep was finally setting in.

“You are a stubborn human you know that?”

“Mmm you love me” you could barely respond, her touch was making you sleepier and sleepier as she leaned over to press a kiss on your temple

“That I do my heart, more than you’ll ever know.”

Taglist: @avyannadawn @artaxerxesthegreat @aunt-pipie @imtoanonymousforyou @lacychick @raindancer2004 @venusdelaroix @volturiwolf @jelly-fishy-babie @xcastawayherosx

[goldenavenger02]

I can't be alone with all that's on my mind

But the hatred took over, after all. He should've been the green ninja. He should've been the one who was chosen to defeat The Overlord. "I don't want to control it! This isn't anything I don't already feel!"

Takes place after The Forgotten Element

•••

Kai's stomach convulsed as he gripped onto the toilet seat tightly, his knuckles going white.

As soon as the horror had sunk in that Skylor and Lloyd were injured by his greed and that Skylor had been taken, he had bolted to the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet in time before his stomach spilled over.

Which brought him to where he was now, bent over sick in the small bathroom just outside of the main room.

•••

"You have to destroy the staff, Kai!" Lloyd pleaded, running up to him as he continued to blast Chen's lackies.

"Chen was right! This thing's awesome!"

"Kai, it holds too much power! Destroy it!" He heard Lloyd say to someone "if we don't get that staff out of his hands-!"

"No one is taking my staff!" He yelled, anger in his voice. This was his now. He deserved it, after all. Lloyd just wanted to be the special one again. "You had all the power, now it's my turn!"

He shook the thoughts out of his head briefly, glaring at the offending object. "What am I saying? I can't… I can't control it!"

But the hatred took over, after all. He should've been the green ninja. He should've been the one who was chosen to defeat The Overlord. "I don't want to control it! This isn't anything I don't already feel!"

"No, Kai! Don't!" Lloyd pleaded, his arm in front of Skylor. A pathetic attempt to stop him, really, as he started to use the powers, the rush flowing through his body

"I should've been the green ninja!"

And with that, he launched the blast, watching the terror in their faces. He relished it with a grin.

•••

"Kai?" A voice broke him out of his thoughts, resulting in a shudder. He couldn't quite place who it was, but then it came again. "Kai, can I come in?"

A cough cut him off from responding to Cole, but he swallowed it back. "Yeah."

The door opened and Cole sat on the floor next to him, setting his hand against his back, "FSM, you're sweating through your gi." He heard him mutter under his breath, "I brought some water if you're up to it."

Kai shook his head; he wasn't very nauseous anymore, but he also wasn't sure he could keep anything down just yet since the nausea was now being replaced by the sinking feeling of guilt.

"Sensei G's got Lloyd," Cole spoke, clearly knowing exactly what Kai was thinking, "He's got some burns, and he's kinda weak from the whole "powers being sucked out of him" thing, but he's gonna be okay."

Kai nodded, but then the second thought came to his head. 'Nya still thinks I betrayed her and everyone else.'

Once again, Cole cut him off before he could even speak. "Lloyd explained the whole thing, they're not mad. Nya said your plan was dumb, but that was it."

Kai couldn't hold back his chuckle at the mental image of Nya critiquing his plan, but it was short-lived. 'Skylor's still hurt. And missing.'

"No one blames you, you did what you thought was right." Cole spoke softly, gently setting his hand on Kai's shoulder, who finally mustered up the strength to move away from the toilet and take the cup of water from Cole's hand, muttering under his breath as he drank.

"Don't think telling Lloyd that I should've been the green ninja before blasting him was right."

"You weren't in your right mind, the staff-"

"The staff brought out my subconscious thoughts that I've had since we found out about the prophecy." Kai interrupted, setting the empty glass down on the floor.

"The staff makes one greedy, power hungry. I don't know how it does it, but it obviously does. The reason it had no effect on Chen was because the dude was already cuckoo for cocoa puffs," Kai couldn't hold back a snort at the ridiculous phrasing, "and if you don't believe me, you can go ask Lloyd for his two cents."

Kai sighed. He knew he should talk to Lloyd, at least see that he was okay for himself, but at the same time, he had hurt Lloyd, the one he swore to protect when he was fully aware of what he was doing.

"It's up to you. Alternatively, you could help us try to find Chen, but considering you just threw up your guts, I'd go with the safer choice of talking to Lloyd."

Kai used the wall to pull himself to his feet, hitting the knob on the toilet before allowing Cole to support some of his weight since his legs were still shaking before speaking.

"Take me to Lloyd."

•••

Lloyd winced as Nya wiped at the cut on the side of his cheek.

While most of his injuries were from his fight with Chen, that one had occurred when the jet crashed into the basement and the staff hit him across the face as it flew out of Kai's hand.

Although, if he was being completely honest, he didn't remember much of the whole situation.

•••

Lloyd winced as he was pulled to his feet by two of the lackies who kept referring to themselves as Kapow and Chop, his side throbbing horrendously from his fight with Chen.

Despite trying to fight back, he was weak both physically and emotionally, not to mention the vengestone keeping his hands behind his back.

As he was forced down the halls and the echoes of the large serpent hit his ears, he fought back the tears that wanted to stream down his face.

'How could Kai do this? How could he hurt the team like this?' He tried to push back the selfish thought of 'how could he hurt me like this?' and tried to replace it with 'how could he do this to Nya?' but he couldn't do it.

As the chanting grew louder, he tried one more time to break out of the two men's hold, but one just kicked him in the leg, forcing him forward into the large room all four of them had snuck into on their first night here.

But Cole and Jay were nowhere to be seen, and as he looked at Chen, Clouse and Skylor who were surrounded by guards, he swallowed harshly, seeing Kai standing next to them.

The chanting rang in his ears as he was forced to kneel, the vengestone quickly being replaced by two giant chains attached to the floor.

He looked up as footsteps approached, seeing Kai grow nearer; the sadness and fury consumed him as he demanded, his voice thick with tears. "Why would you help them?"

"Don't worry," Kai insisted in a hushed tone, but as Clouse approached, he raised his voice, "it won't hurt. Much." Before walking away from him with a cackle, the chanting stopped altogether.

Lloyd watched as Skylor offered herself willingly to the spell, a pit growing in his stomach as she cried out in agony.

He had to shut his eyes.

But the cries stopped shortly afterwards and he opened his eyes, only to see Chen approaching him with a wicked grin on his face and his stomach dropped in fear.

"And now for the final element," the staff was pointed towards him and out of the corner of his eye, Lloyd saw Kai turn away, "only one can remain."

The white light surrounded him, and he was immediately hit with a searing pain in his chest that sent him to his knees before forcing a scream from his throat.

It was over fairly quickly, but he collapsed onto his hands and knees, trying to regain his breath as his body, now weaker than ever and heaved harshly.

•••

"Alright, that's the last injury," Nya announced, bringing Lloyd out of his thought process to see a joking smile on her face, "unless you're hiding something from me."

"No, you got everything. Thank you." Lloyd smiled softly, receiving a hand in his hair and he couldn't hold back his laughter because of just how normal that was.

"I'm gonna go help them find Chen, but your dad is right outside if you need anything. Get some rest."

Lloyd nodded, watching as Nya exited the room before laying down on his back, biting back the sharpness of the bruising from where he was thrown by Chen with his own abilities directly into the leaderboard.

The pain dulled out enough for him to close his eyes and try to let sleep take him when the door opened and two sets of slow footsteps approached him.

He couldn't stop from flinching due to the sting as a hand gently touched his burned wrist, but he instantly regretted it when he heard the voice. "Lloyd? Are you awake?"

'Kai'

Lloyd opened his eyes, blinking away the blurriness to see Cole and Kai standing over him. "Yeah, I'm awake," he noticed the guilty look on Kai's face, as well as the paleness, "you okay?"

"I should be the one asking you that."

"I will be," Lloyd nodded, getting a good look at Kai's face and already knowing that if he was gonna get any information out of him, they needed to be alone, "Cole, can you-"

"Yeah, I need to talk to your dad anyways," Cole smiled, winking to ensure he got the hint before making his way out of the room.

The door barely closed before Kai spoke up, "Lloyd, I am so sorry about all of this."

"You did what you thought was best, I can't blame-" Lloyd started, but he was cut off quickly.

"I meant the staff."

'Oh'

"Kai, that wasn't your fault-"

"I could have killed you!" Kai shouted, cutting Lloyd off again, "I could've killed you and Skylor, I said things to you that I haven't believed in years!" He had tears coming down his face now even though his cheeks were still red with frustration, "I hurt Skylor, I hurt Nya… I hurt you."

Lloyd wasn't thinking when he wrapped his arms around him, all he knew in that moment was that he needed Kai to stop crying, to stop feeling so bad for something that wasn't even his fault.

He felt hot tears soaking his shoulder as Kai's body shook against him, like he had been holding this in for a long time. 'How do I make him see that it isn't his fault?'

•••

Garmadon wasn't sure what he was expecting when Kai came out of the small room that his son was currently residing in while he recovered.

He definitely wasn't expecting him to come out with tears in his eyes and bright red cheeks though.

"Kai, are you alright?" He asked softly, in order to avoid startling the obviously in distress teenager.

"Yeah," he stopped to wipe his face on his sleeve, "yeah, I'm okay?"

Garmadon raised an eyebrow before motioning him closer. "Take a walk with me, Kai."

"No, you need to stay with Lloyd-"

"Just down the hall and back," Garmadon didn't like the idea of leaving his son, but he also knew that the majority of the elemental masters were nearby, and if there was an emergency, they would be informed before anything could happen to Lloyd, "Lloyd will be fine."

Kai relented after that and the two of them started walking at a steady pace with only the silence lingering in between them.

"You know, Kai," Garmadon spoke softly, watching as the fire elemental's gaze met his, "when I was bitten, I did a lot of things that I didn't have control over. I became corrupted and hurt a lot of people I care about. My brother, my wife, you four ninja, even Lloyd."

Garmadon heard Kai's breath hitch and saw a few tears forming in his eyes. "But after my son saved me, you all forgave me even though I didn't feel as though I deserved it. I still don't know how all of you did that so easily."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, it took me awhile to forgive you for all of that." Kai said in a joking tone, even if his voice was thick from crying and the tear stains on his cheeks were becoming fresh again.

Garmadon shot him a soft smile before continuing, "there are things in this world that we cannot control, things that have to balance out. Although it takes time to heal from those things, to forgive ourselves for those things, that doesn't mean we can't let others forgive us for them and to give us a second chance."

Kai wiped his face on his sleeve again and Garmadon put his hand on his shoulder, feeling his body shake under his touch.

"You don't have to forgive yourself right away from what happened with the corruption from the staff. In fact, I wouldn't expect you to do so. But letting the others in, letting them give you a second chance… It's a good place to start."

Kai nodded, tears rushing down his cheeks at full speed now, "I'll do that."

"Good man," Garmadon smiled as the two of them turned to make their way back down the hall, "and if you need someone to talk to about this again, my door is always open."

"You don't have to-"

"I'll have none of that," Garmadon shook his head, "You will come to me if you need someone to talk to about this again."

"Is that an order?" Kai smiled, the tears finally starting to slow and his mood was clearly starting to brighten, given that his sass was coming back.

"Yes, it is." Garmadon nodded, seeing that he had accomplished what he set out to do, "do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sensei Garmadon." Kai winked as the two stopped in front of the door, his demeanor growing serious again, "I'm gonna go help them find Chen."

"Very well." Garmadon smiled, watching as Kai pulled his hood over his head before running to join the others outside.

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

So far what has been the worst thing about being pregnant?

oh so much, so equally.

sciatica, making it so i physically cannot walk without excruciating pain, but only at night when i need to get out of bed to piss. (thankfully i am not a type who needs to piss all the time. yet.)

acid reflux, a constant cold burn in my throat unfazed by tums but is ignorable if im constantly drinking something. so my stomach is always full of liquid, which makes the acid worse, so i have to keep drinking so i dont feel it.

i am So Fucking Hungry. “have less food more often! smaller, more frequent meals!” they say. “because your stomach will get smaller as baby grows!” i dont fucking think so babe. yes i can handle it. yes i know baby is growing rapidly and needs the nutrients and thats why my stomach is constantly growling. baby wants the entire meal, and baby wants another in two hours. pay up or perish. (by perish i mean my stomach will growl so loud you go deaf)

speaking of deaf, the sinus pressure has closed up one of my ears. it’ll go away after birth but the other ear has pulsatile tinnitus that i need surgery for because the sinus pressure and increased blood supply pushed my eardrum back, and i need a replacement prosthetic of some bone in my ear that isnt doing its job.

speaking of sinuses, there’s so much fucking blood in my body that sinus pressure causes nosebleeds, a common pregnancy issue. however, because of allergies i already had prior, my sinuses keep all the blood clotting up inside my sinuses. and because of acid reflux, i’m constantly spitting, so it never has time to settle and properly bleed. instead i cough, snort, and spit up 5-8 BLOOD CLOTS. FROM MY SINUSES. per day. some darker and heavier, most smaller and less dense. i am constantly creating suction pressure in my throat to dislodge blood clots from my nasopharynx. i am always snorting.

my tits are disgusting. i have lymphedema in the breasts, rather uncommon, and it has been completely mimicing the symptoms of breast cancer without having any lumps or actual tumors to show for it. anywhere. they’re simply an angry warm red, feel like an orange peel, hard as dried playdough, and the consistency of a memory foam mattress.

“yr areolas will darken uwu!”

and thats just what i hate the MOST.

things that just annoy me include:

always feeling both exhausted and like i NEED to clean everything. everything. all the time. im noticing dirt and mess that i’ve never seen before in my life. im rewashing perfectly clean items because im not the one who washed them initially.

nesting feels itchy. im exhausted midway through organizing the entire bathroom but i Have To keep going. its compulsive. it feels like an actual rat in my brain trying to claw its way out. and i struggle so badly to ignore it because half the shit i want to do cant be done until mid april. and it’s been scratching at me since like january. it kind of hurts.

also i love kicks but the rolls and swishes feel fucking gross, it feels like there’s a goldfish in my stomach just flopping around nastily. it tickles in a gross way.

i have to sleep on a wedge pillow in addition to my C pillow. both help immensely, but im so blocked off from davyn and it makes me sad. i have to tear my little nest apart if i want to cuddle, and then i can’t for very long because he lays down flat, and the aggravates my acid really badly.

horribly vivid dreams. ive never felt more disturbed by my dreams than i have the past few weeks. it feels so real, nothing like a normal weird dream. the concepts are strange but the environment is so convincing. and it’s usually nightmares.

im really forgetful now and its kind of scary. like genuinely scary because it feels like im losing my mind and its bringing up a lot of... gaslighty trauma from when i was a teenager. sometimes my memory is as perfect as usual, sometimes i forget what just came out of my mouth two seconds ago. davyn is really patient when i get scared.

and i have it relatively easy.

i dont have gestational diabetes, which would necessitate an entirely new diet that i KNOW i wouldnt be able to sustain.

i don’t have blood clots, so i dont have to take those awful shots that bruise the injection site so terribly(i took them after my knee surgery, i switched to warfarin because i couldnt stand the shots anymore after only a week).

i dont have cervical insufficiency, which runs in my family and would necessitate a much higher level of care.

i dont have an Rh incompatibility with my baby, which would necessitate a higher level of care but also one of the most painful shots you can get in pregnancy. in the ass cheek.

i didnt have morning sickness AT ALL, just occasional nausea and not even consistently. some people puke multiple times a day and struggle eating anything. for the entire duration.

i don’t have tons of emotional outbursts, i had one breakdown about davyn eating my banana, one about davyn saying “the pillow is my girlfriend now” because i fixated on the word girlfriend, one because i left soda in the freezer and it exploded, and i cry easily over touching youtube videos a little more easily. thats it. 3 breakdowns and a tender heart. over the past 7 months.

i have it quite easy, and most of all im doing this on purpose.

i’ll say it again every time: reproductive choice is a hill i will happily die on. absolutely fucking nobody deserves any of this, least of all people who don’t know its coming and didnt want it anyway.

i wanted this, and im doing it eagerly. i just also hate it and it sucks and im glad it’ll be over soon and i can have my screamy poopy wrinkly baby on the outside where i can actually LOOK at them and HOLD them and know the tangible fruits of my labor. feels like im wading through a sewer to reach some unknown treasure that im praying will still be there when i get to the end.

make sure your birth control timer is set properly. wrap yr meat. stay aware. etc.

[delimeful]

(dont) take this the wrong way (5)

warnings: injury, blood mentions, past psychological&emotional&physical abuse, ptsd, sickness

-

Virgil woke up, which was only unsurprising for the few moments it took him to 1. realize that his head was pounding and 2. remember the two very large reasons why.

His eyes flew open, and he found himself half-submerged in a shallow pool of cool water, surrounded by flat ledges of dry rock. The sound of ocean waves lapping against the cliffside echoed around the cavern, which was dimly lit by overhead cracks in the ceiling.

In one of these beams of paltry light, Logan was slumped over on his side, glasses askew. Virgil’s relief at seeing him was instantly overshadowed by terror at what could have happened to the human after Virgil had gone and gotten his skull knocked against rock.

His headache worsened, and he lifted a hand to press against the sore spot, pausing when he found more of those stiff bandage strips wrapped around his head.

The soft sloshing of water seemed to be enough to startle Logan into wakefulness, and the human brightened slightly at the sight of him. “Virgil. It’s good to see you awake. Are you feeling any pain or nausea?”

“What happened?” Virgil replied in lieu of the real answer, which was ‘everything hurts’. “Where are we, I thought we were dead for sure—!”

“Take a few deep breaths,” Logan advised, shuffling closer to the pool and offering a hand. Virgil took it gratefully. “We’re not currently in any danger. I believe we’re at the home of the seal-hybrid mer, if—“

“We’re what?!” Virgil’s voice dropped to a horrified double pitch, his grip on Logan’s hand instantly turning crushing.

“Ow,” Logan said in a pointed monotone. Virgil eased up before his claws could turn the human’s palm into bloody ribbons. “Let me finish, please. I’ve managed to work out a rudimentary method of communication, and as far as I know, we’re not currently at risk.”

“From the giant mer-eating monsters that literally kidnapped us, you mean?”

“Yes, that was the potential risk I was referring to.” Logan pulled Virgil further upright, reaching out with his free hand. “More importantly, you’ve been out for some time. Will you allow me to take a look at your injury?”

Virgil shuffled a little closer, allowing the hand to make contact with him. He had traversed currents of all temperatures, but in chilled still waters like this, Logan’s warmth was more than welcome. “I dunno how that’s more important than our inevitable, rapidly-approaching deaths, but sure, fine. Knock yourself out.”

“I will not? You are already dealing with a likely concussion, I see no reason to double that number.” Logan squinted at him like he was concerned that the head wound had taken a worse toll than he’d thought.

“No, it’s-- it’s just an expression. Don’t actually pass out, or I’ll freak out.”

“Ah,” Logan acknowledged, his hand twitching like he wanted to grab something before returning to carefully peeling the bandages away. “My apologies. Colloquialisms are not my strong suit.”

Virgil blinked back at him, because five syllable words were a little much even when he wasn’t concussed. “No worries?”

Logan continued to gently probe the back of his head. A sharp pang made him jerk away with a muted hiss, his vision blurring with pain as the sharp motion only agitated all his other cuts. He waved off Logan’s apology before it was fully formed. “S’fine. What’s the damage?”

“The bleeding has stopped, which is a good sign. It’s swelled significantly, but the cool water is hopefully helping reduce that as well. The best course of action now is for you to rest and recover in a dark, quiet place, ideally for at least two full days.”

“Yeah, but that’s not happening unless we get away first,” Virgil shot back, irritably twitching his fins down as Logan rewrapped the injury. The human let out a slow breath.

“Virgil. I believe the situation isn’t as dire as you think.” He settled back on his heels, back stiff as he spoke. “Our captors have shown no signs of aggression or hunger, even with the significant bleeding from your head wound. It’s possible--”

“It’s not possible!” Virgil cut him off, scowling fiercely. “That doesn’t mean anything. They’re playing some kind of sick game the way they always do, and if you let them trick you, you’re going to lose!”

Logan looked back at him inquisitively, still not getting it. “What evidence are you basing this off of? I was under the impression that you’ve spent only marginally more time in their company than me. Have they attempted to trick you in the past?”

“Yes, no, I mean--,” Virgil groaned, pulling at his bangs. “They don’t have to say it. That’s just how giants like them operate. We’re smaller, they can do what they want to us, we don’t get a say in it. You escape or you die.”

“Yet, we’ve been in their admittedly less-than-ideal care for over 24 hours, and they haven’t hurt us or made any indications they intend to hurt us.” Logan gestured expansively, his hand a bit wobbly. “That’s a rather long time to pretend, and for what purpose? If it was what they desired, we have been easy targets for a meal from the moment they relocated us.”

A rather long time to pretend. Virgil swallowed down a hysterical laugh, feeling dizzy. If a day of false niceties was all it took to buy his trust, he’d have never gotten away from his first encounter with a giant mer. “You’re— you’re human. You don’t know anything about this.”

Logan frowned. “I may be human, but that does not make me an idiot. Even with a language barrier, body language and expression are invaluable tools for communication, and I’ve been doing very little but observe them while you were unconscious. Virgil, if you just tried talking to them—“

“No!” he snapped, curling in even as his fins flared wide and threatening. He wouldn’t do this again, wouldn’t be subjected to the world’s most torturous game of catch and release, wouldn’t be lured back into too-tight hands by false promises and meaningless apologies. He couldn’t do that again.

Measured, rhythmic tapping on the back of his hand slowly brought him back to the present, cool air and Logan’s steady voice by his side. His throat was closed-up-too-tight, his gills too far out of the water to switch lungs— but the rhythm was counted out over and over, breathe in, hold, and out.

“There you go,” Logan said as Virgil took in another long, shuddering drag of air. “Well done.”

The air smelled like iron. He realized that somewhere in the past few minutes, he’d dug his claws into the soft sides of the human’s hand, drawing blood. He pulled away as though he’d been burned.

Logan didn’t even twitch, still searching his gaze intently. “Are you with me?”

Virgil nodded stiffly. “Yeah, I— fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I didn’t realize— but I should have.” A deep, resolved breath. “It’s okay. I’ll find you a way out that doesn’t involve interacting with them.” Logan’s gaze went distant and hazy with thought, and Virgil hesitantly drew closer, pulling a bandage free to wrap around his bleeding hand.

… He was really warm. Clammy, too, and he’d been sitting in a cold, wet cave for hours, hadn’t he? Had been completely drenched for even longer.

“You’re sick,” Virgil said, and Logan took a moment too long to refocus on him. How had it taken him so long to notice? “That’s why you need me to talk to them. You need to get home.”

“My illness is no more severe than your injuries,” he deflected, adjusting his glasses clumsily. “Right now, the priority is getting you away from triggering circumstances. If my suspicions are correct, I will be fine regardless.”

Right. His suspicions, based on his willingness to trust his own abductors. He’d trusted Virgil, too, back in those tunnels. He’d known that he might be abandoned and he’d freed Virgil anyways, taken his hand anyways. Gotten hurt for his trouble.

He’d get hurt worse if Virgil left him here.

“... Yeah,” Virgil said, tucking the edge of the bandage in carefully. “But you should sleep for now. We both should. You said they haven’t done anything yet, right?”

“Yes, but…,” Logan’s brow was furrowed slightly, as though he knew something was off, but wasn’t quite sure what. “I mean, you do need rest. If… If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Virgil replied, curling against the edge of the pool and pillowing his head on his arms to hide their shaking. “Get some sleep, Specs.”

—

It was early morning when Patton woke to the splash of something small dropping into the water from his air room.

The room wasn’t overly large, being designed only for occasional use when he needed some extra oxygen in his system. It was also quite a few caves up above his sleeping den, but with two delicate little guests staying over, his senses were on high alert. He disentangled from Roman, who had been clinging to him for extra warmth, waking the shark mer in the process.

“Mwha’huh?” he asked groggily, and Patton chuckled at the way one side of his hair had been pressed into a tangled bundle.

“I think they may be awake!” he reported quietly, and Roman perked right up. They had originally hovered in the room over the two of them, only leaving after the human-- busy tending to the tiny mer’s wounds-- had gotten too fed up and used charades to shoo them away, leaving them with nothing to do but sit around and think about how badly they’d messed up. As such, they were both more than eager to start fixing things.

Upon popping up into the air room, however, they found only the human, lying completely still apart from the slow rise and fall of his chest. Deep in sleep, with an empty pool at his side.

Roman and Patton exchanged a panicked look, and ducked back underwater to search through his home and see where, exactly, the injured mer had gone.

It didn’t take long to spot him. The mer had practically every fin and frill puffed out, even the ones that were still injured. The threat display as eye-catching as they got.

He was hovering in the opening of a vent crevice, one that helped circulate seawater through the caves. It was small enough that if he vanished through it, they wouldn’t be able to stop him or see where he was headed. He knew it, too, staring them down with sharp defiance rather than absolute terror.

“Don’t move,” he said, as though they hadn’t both frozen at the sight of him. “I’m going to-- to make a deal with you.”

“A deal?” Roman asked, and received a sharp, wild-eyed glare for his troubles.

“Yeah, a deal. The other one is sick,” a slight jerk of the head toward the air room, “so he won’t last long here. Probably already too far gone to even play a single game.”

Patton was torn between concern (the human was sick?) and confusion. Game?

“But I’m fine. I’ve had much worse than this.” The mer drifted back slightly, closer to the crevice. “If I leave now, you’ll never find me, and then Lo-- the human will die, and you won’t have anything to play with.”

A creeping sense of dread overcame Patton. He still didn’t know what was going on, but it was sounding more and more like something was seriously wrong here.

“So, a deal. You take the human back to where you found him, and I’ll stay-- I’ll stay here,” his voice cracked painfully, but he ignored it, staring at them with a desperate sort of intensity. “With you. I won’t try to get away or anything. I-- I swear.”

“Get away?” Roman asked, his voice going high with the same sort of horror that currently swamping Patton. The mer ducked back at the sound, gaze flitting between them, some of that terror returning.

“I will! I’ll leave, if you-- you can either have one or none, that’s the deal, I’m not kidding. I’m not!” His fins flared wider, blood beginning to leak from some of them. “He’s human anyways, he can barely even swim, you don’t want him--”

“Kiddo,” Patton cut in urgently, raising his hands peacefully and trying not to wince when the mer flinched, “if he’s sick, of course we’ll take him back to where he can get help. No deals necessary, okay?”

The little guy didn’t look reassured at all. “I want to watch. I have to see you put him back, where other humans will find him, or else the deal’s off.”

He didn't believe them. Patton exchanged a helpless look with Roman, who finally nodded.

“Of course,” the shark mer said, “You are more than welcome to accompany us back to the mainland where Patton found him, provided that you’re not exacerbating your injuries.”

The mer hissed at him, a tiny, reedy sound. “And whose fault is that?”

“Irresponsible human fishing vessels?” Roman tried, and then wilted under both Patton and the mer’s looks when the joke fell flat. He cleared his throat. “It is, of course, mine. I wanted to apologize for the way I manhandled you before. Regardless of my intentions, it was unbefitting behavior, and it hurt you. I am truly sorry.”

He bowed with a little flourish, moving slower than normal. The mer stared at his bowed head apprehensively, and then covered the look up with a distrustful scowl.

“If you’re sorry, get Logan out of this place before he gets any worse,” he finally replied, and Patton nodded and went to retrieve the human-- Logan, presumably.

Glancing over his shoulder as he left, he could see the way the tiny mer’s fins had settled just slightly, not quite as frantically overextended as before.

It was a start.