#i said the word change too many times and now i have matted spam by badfinger stuck in my head

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

the more i think about it, the more changing my url might be a thing that i might do one day in the far off(probably) future. i need things around me to be as different as i feel

[angst-king]

I can do this chtr 1

(heavy trigger warning, this does involve rape, and abuse please read with caution. Also the character’s are adults now. This is partially SeroShinkam but will turn into just Shinkami soon *please read with caution you’ve been warned about the contence of this fanfic*)

Denki was walking home from the convenience store with bags of goodies in hand. It wasn't late at night but it was dark, still the streetlights kept the electric blonde from wandering blindly. He's walking quietly minding his own business, humming a soft tune. The night air is peacefully crisp and quiet. The side walk is empty, or so it seems to Denki. he's got someone following him, a larger male who's staying hidden very well. When Kaminari got a text from Hanta saying, his phone was gonna die so if Denki needed someone then he'd have to call Hitoshi. A clatter of fast moving footsteps echoed close behind until Denki was grabbed! He screeched and thrashed trying to get away but the man was much stronger than the smaller blond. Dragging Denki the man took him into an alley way and shoved him against the dark wall. they were deep enough for no one to disturb them, not that Denki didn't want someone to help him. "You're too feisty for me not to use my quirk, but then again I might just make you live through what I do to you." Denki whimpers and kept thrashing but was met with a painful brick wall to the back of his head. Making him cry out in pain and stop moving, the man smirked. "just because you're probably a loud piece of shit I'm just gonna make this easy on myself." Raising a hand to Denki's neck, he pushed against it with his fingers which caused Denki to fall unconscious. Leaving a small bruise on Denki's neck that look like finger prints. It was the middle of the night when Kaminari had managed to escape. He found his phone, and was pretty much spam calling Hanta or Hitoshi who ever would answer first as he ran to their house...He was messed up in so many ways, he was scared. No absolutely terrified! He got raped, Kaminari Denki's nightmare of being taken controlled of (not like toshi-) was real. He was in so much pain a bit more mentally than physically as he ran to their home. Finally he got home just as Hitoshi answered his phone. "Hey Denki what's up?" "T-Toshi oh thank god, Toshi please come home please!" He begged while fumbling with the keys to get into the house. "what's going on babe?" Hitoshi could hear the urgency in the blonde's voice. Just as Denki tells him "Just come home I don't feel comfortable talking about it over the phone" Hanta arrives in his car. Coming out Sero looked confused as to why the blonde was crying. "Denki what's wrong?" Denki stammered through his explanation as hot tears ran down his face, Sero's face changed to a neutral one and he barely said anything as he unlocked the door. Walking inside he grabbed Denki dragging him in while he tried to wipe away tears. Then wham! Sero threw Denki into the wall near the mat for their shoes. "What hell do you mean you were 'Raped'?! You mean you cheated on us! You slept with another fucking man and you wanna call it rape all because you're to stupid to admit it!" Denki's eyes widened in fear as he put his hands up defensively to try and block some of Hanta's attacks while he hurled more verbal abuse. After being hit multiple times into the wall and being choked by Hanta, the raven haired man left the blond to curl up in the corner while gasping for air. The front door opened to let Hitoshi into the house, taking off his shoes while calling out for Denki since he didn't see him right away. "Denki! babe where are you?!" Hearing the other yell his name made the boy flinch, curling on himself Denki tried not to cry. When Hitoshi's head turned he immediately rushed to his boyfriend, getting down to his level he called out for him. "Denki, Denki baby what's going on what happened?" Afraid of the same results Denki made no words and just scooted away from Hitoshi who only because even more worried. His voice soon became very gentle as he took off his mouth cover and scarf and embraced the other lovingly. "Denki please, you're scaring me, what ever it is I need to know." Denki's stammering voice could barely complete a sentence before Sero came down. "H-Hitoshi I-I-" "He fucking cheated on us Toshi!" Barked Sero, Shinsou looked confused turning to sero. "What do you mean?!" Denki stammered out the same thing he said to Hanta, Shinsou's eyes softened at this information. Hanta just scoffed and walked back up stairs to their bedroom. "Denki baby, why don't we go and take a shower, check you for injuries and such?" Sniffling softly, Kaminari reached up to be helped to his feet. Following Hitoshi up to the bedroom, Shinsou grabbed some sweat pants while Kaminari grabbed one of Hitoshi's hoodies and some underwear. Taking it to the master bathroom, Sero gives them a glare watching them until the door is shut. Undressing and letting the clothes fall to the tile floor, Denki feels weird undressing around Hitoshi. Still when they're both naked and the water is to their liking, the two males enter the shower and seeing his partner naked Hitoshi infuriated to see so many marks and injuries. He saw dried blood dripping down his neck, lots of red marks, bite marks, and some more dried blood that were from hard scratches. While helping his boyfriend wash up, Shinsou notices how the blonde flinched and would whimper at him periodically. It hurt him to see his baby like this. Wrapping his arms around Denki who flinched a bit, Hitoshi gave him a soft kiss on the lips before saying in a hushed voice. "I'm sorry you had to go through what that man did to you. I promise you that we will find that prick one day." With tears running down from his reddened puffy eyes, Denki quietly nods before whispering. "i-I'm s-sorry Toshi" It was in audible to Hitoshi who soon enough shuts off the water, grabbing towels for the both of them as well as the med kit to take care of current injuries. The dried blood melted off in the shower still leaving a dark red tint on the boy's body. When the males were dressed and ready, they leave the bathroom to see Hanta  is gone, figuring he must be down stairs. The heavy sheets are lifted so the two can get in, Hitoshi was very tired and knew it was best for Denki to rest seeing as he'd not slept all night yet. Arms wrapped around the smaller one who curled up his still trembling body. Hitoshi peppered him with small gingerly placed kisses to help lull him asleep.

[inappropriate-drill-usage]

"I got you, it's gonna be okay, you're going to be okay." |@classical-crowbar|

There’s a starter underneath the cut. It’s extremely long and I don’t want to spam people’s dashes. 

Also a fair amount of violence, but it’s not really any more graphic than other torture scenes. 

Monday, August 5, 1946

(Probably)

The darkness interefered with Bea’s percepton of the passage of time. There was something primal about it. Human were meant to live and work between sunrise and sunset, not sit perfectly still and unable to move, all while surrounded by thick, suffocating blackness. It was a fairly new thing, this lack of light. After all, the RED Pyro had put her torture chamber in the attic of her base. It was a large and airy space, with dormer windows on both sides. Sunlight and moonlight got in. The view was so good that Bea had been able to watch the stars rotate across the night sky. This natural clock had measured out three days, and then, sometime in the morning, the RED Pyro beat Bea so badly that her remaining eye swelled shut. After that, there was no time at all.

***

At some indistinct point in the fairly recent past, the BLUs were enjoying a long weekend. The RED spy was badly injured and likely to be absent from battle for at least a week or so. Such unfortunate events had given the BLUs the motivation they needed to capture the last control point on a Thursday afternoon.

That night had brought a celebration with guitar music, barbecue, and alcohol. By the wee hours of Friday morning, most everyone had wound down for the night, but Bea found herself in the bathtub. She had no need to be up before noon that day, so why not enjoy same bath salts Rory had given her and finish this week’s issue of The Economist?

By 2 am, the water had gotten cold, so Bea dried off, pulled on her nightgown, and started to drain the tub. There were footsteps outside; one of the men staggering to the WC in half-asleep stupor. Bea preoccupied herself with her reflection in the spotted metal mirror, trying to hold her head at such and angle that her scar wasn’t visible.

Then the door opened, quickly, but not so forcefully that it banged against the wall. Bea barely had time to catch a glimpse of a figure in a respirator before a pair of hands stuffed a gag in her mouth. A pin rattled, and then the rotten-fruit scent of a hallucination grenade was strong enough to make her eyes water. In this confined space, it took about thirty seconds before the world melted into kaleidoscopic swirls.

When everything re-solidified, Bea was the in RED attic and the sun was rising. Her vision was still a bit shaky, but Bea knew the feeling of the interrogation chair and restraints. She focused her eyes, and sure enough, there was the RED Pyro. Beach pajamas* with trousers, hair perfectly shingled, dark eyeliner. She was touching up the elaborate henna patterns on her left hand.

Bea wanted nothing more than to snarl Annalise,with her voice full of scorn, but she was still so drugged that all that came out was some gurgles and drool. It was enough to get Annalise’s attention, because she put down her brushes, stood up, and slapped Bea’s face with such force that the vertebrae in her neck popped.

“Cunt.” Annalise’s British accent made it sound almost sweet.

There was no interrogation to go with the torture. No answers were needed and nobody had any questions to ask, anyway. Annalise smashed in both of Bea’s kneecaps with a dumbbell, then tore off her fingernails with a pliers. She sliced the insides of Bea’s exposed forearms with a razor blade, put on a pair off rubber gloves, and smeared liquid drain cleaner into the wounds. And she hit Bea in the face. With her hands and the butt of a polo bat and a dainty little riding crop that looked too delicate to leave such welts.

Bea screamed lustily through the first part of it all. At the very least, why not blow out Annalise’s eardrums? And who cared if everybody heard? The REDs doubtless knew what was going on. But a person could only scream so much before getting so hoarse and thirsty that it just wasn’t worth it.

“You hungry?” By the pale light of Sunday morning, Annalise held out a bowl. The contents looked like tar in this light, but the scent made Bea think of wet cat food.

“Come on. I can hear your stomach growling.” Annalise scooped out some of the mixture on two fingers. “Come on poppet. You know you want it.”

At the word poppet, Bea’s stomach boiled. She hated the word. Rory had told her that it was indeed a legitimate British term of affection, but life had mutated into something else. Something condescending and frilly, like a bow on an underage whore.

Bea gathered her last bit of saliva to spit, but Annalisa grabbed her by the hair and smeared the tarlike stuff in her face. It was indeed cat food, the sort of meat that the government said was unfit to feed to humans. It made her lips and face injuries burn; Annalise had added some kind of hot pepper, maybe? And it was disturbingly gritty. What wasn’t cat food or pepper was made up of salt. Even before Annalise let go of her hair, Bea had figured that she wasn’t going it be getting water anytime soon.

Things went somewhat blurry after that. Annalise kicked Bea’s broken kneecaps until she blacked out from the pain. She poured salt in her mouth and ground it into the wounds on her arms. Beat her with a crowbar until Bea could have sworn a rib cracked. Punched her in the throat until there was blood in Bea’s mouth.

Bea’s denailed hands were swollen stiff from dehydration by now. Her tongue was even more swollen, gone coarse against her dry mouth. She couldn’t have made a sound it she tried. Her forearms were swollen and blistered, and every breath hurt, both in her ribs and her throat.

It went on and on. Annalise did something. Then she stopped. Maybe she was leaving for meals? Or to go fuck the Spy? No, the Spy was injured and not up for such things. Time was only punctuated by the changing light outside.  

Then one day –probably day three– Annalise got over-excited with the polo bat and Bea’s eye swelled shut. After that, Bea hovered – existed, really—in her own private darkness. The whole world had shrunk down to her body, a lump of swollen, stinking meat. Passive. Lumps didn’t do anything. Things just happened to them.

It was been a while since Annalise had done anything, Bea thought. Maybe it was night. Or maybe she had just she had gone to the grocery store, or to the beauty salon. Get some shiny red nails to go with those pretty henna patterns. Who knew?

Then the door opened. Heavy footsteps to go with Annalise’s dainty ones.

“By our Lady.” A Spanish accent. The RED Solider. “Are you certain she’s alive?”

“Oh, she’s alive.” Cool fingers traced the skin on Bea’s neck. “Look carefully now. See this? I haven’t hit anything vital.”

Something clicked. Metallic and sharp, and the restraints came off Bea’s destroyed arms. Some part of Bea was still alive enough to consider running, but she’d probably stagger two steps and then run into a wall. So she let the Solider pick her up. Bea had figured he’d toss her over his shoulder, but no, he just cradled her in his arms.

“Just dump her by mile marker 35,” said Annalise. “Not outside it. You hear me? Not outside it. I don’t want her on my case.”

Mile marker 35 was right on the edge of the respawn’s range, where the signal was so feeble and faint that it might take several days for a merc to fully re-generate. Wasn’t that perfect? As long as the RED Spy was down, Bea would be down, too. Even things out. Make the balance between the teams fair again.

Bea felt herself be carried down the stairs, then loaded into a car. The Solider must have known she couldn’t sit up, because he just laid her on the floor, where the car mats dug into her skin. The car bounced off rocks, and it’s the vibrations from its engine rattled Bea’s teeth in her head.

The car stopped. The Soldier picked her up in is arms again, set in down in the sand. Bea have expected him to say something to her. Maybe an apology, or an insult, or a kick in the face. But there was nothing. The Soldier’s footsteps retreated, and the car’s engine restarted, only to fade into nothing.

It was day. Bea was nearly certain of it; she could feel her skin burning in the sun. More blank, black time passed. She made no attempt to move. Why bother? She’d get nowhere, and the sooner she died, the sooner she’d respawn. She’d wake up under those bright lights, especially nauseous from being dead for so long, but it would certainly feel better than this.

The team would have been so relieved when she re-materialized. Rory and Roy were certainly going to cry. Maybe the relief would keep them from asking too many questions. Everybody though the RED Spy and his bitch were crazy anyway. Maybe they’d satisfy themselves with hugging Bea and cursing the REDs.  

Let the team be satisfied with that. No questions. Please.

And then, suddenly:

“I found her!”

She could have sworn it was Rory.

“I got you, it’s gonna be okay, you’re going to be okay.”

Bea’s mind went totally blank with astonishment. It was actually Rory; she’d know his voice anywhere. Hands went all over her face and throat, checking to see if she was breathing.

Goddamn it. Rory was sure to be crying, and some part of her was grateful she wasn’t able to see.

[wannawrite]

Colourless [ pt.3 ]

who?: Wanna One's Park Woojin genre: 🌸🌺 type: scenario, short series word count: 1364, short and sweet again :")

part one | part two [ so you know what's happening ]

part three / ?

blog navigator.

• soulmate! AU

• you live in a colourless world and you will until you meet your soulmate, they're supposed to brighten up your life

• one day, you can finally see in colour but....he can't

the answers you guys have been waiting for have partially arrived

everyone blew up at me for part two and I hope you guys spam my ask box later as well ;) all will be revealed maybe some things sooner some things you already know

- Admin L 

The ceiling of your dorm room was painted white, a cold colour. Bleak, representing the icy winter.

It also represented your stone cold heart, a thin layer of ice frosting over. Numbness filled your being, the exact opposite of the expected. You should be rejoicing, over the moon, yet you were here, awaiting sure doom.

You lay on your bed, eyes to the sky, even the comfortable sheets felt foreign as the scene replayed inside of your head like a broken film tape, repeating and repeating, no end in sight.

Your discovery, Woojin's shock, all in all, it felt like a mock. Something was tricking you, mimicking the sight of colours. It could not be true but the sky was still blue.

Why does such a pleasant colour describe dull emotions? Why am I feeling the negativity of such a cheerful colour?

"No, don't do this to me. Stop playing games with me!" Woojin had spat, wrenching his arm out of your grip. You had stood there in distress, stammering out his name as he stormed down the hall.

"Woojin! Wait! I-" Your calls had been useless, they fell on deaf ears. It seemed the further he strayed, the deeper he pushed the thorns into your chest. Every step he took to increase the distance between the both of you was like stamping on nails, forcing them into your heart.

He was your soulmate.

'Soulmates' was a sensitive subject for him, that you knew, but he had to believe what was true.

Nothing had made sense.

to you, at least.

You closed your eyes and opened them again.

The colours still remained. And so did the memories.

You were not sure which one was worse to carry with you. The downpour of your pent-up emotions rained an ocean for you to drown in.

Elkie pressed her lips together, her hand clutched the handle of her mug so tightly you feared the enamel would break. She raked a hand through her matted hair - the situation was taking a toll on your roommates too. They were doing the best they could to support you.

Honestly, you felt unrealistic, hoping against hope. You wanted to quit and leave it be but they pushed you to find an answer, to get some sort of understanding.

Jiwoo sighed and cancelled a sentence in her notebook, grabbing her mug of coffee and downing it in one gulp.

The guilt was unexplainable, you and your complicated relationship was the reason for their current state

Three sat in silence in the common room, the atmosphere blank, holding no particular feel.

Or maybe there were too many feelings crowded into such a tiny place, one unable to be singled out.

A pin could drop and its clatter would still be heard.

Your week had been a mishmash of trouble and complications, the weekend was your escape. Now, you could pretend to live in fantasy, but fairytales all come to an end.

You had to face Woojin someday.

"You know...I think I may understand some of it now," Jiwoo said in a hushed tone, flipping through a couple pages of her notebook. "Remember Naomi?"

Of course, the ex-girlfriend who ran off without a proper explanation.

You gritted your teeth at the mere thought of her. At the thought of them.

Elkie nodded and gestured for Jiwoo to continue explaining. Her hand reached to clasp your shaking one, smiling encouragingly at you. You managed to shoot a half-hearted one back.

"They dated for a long time, causing Woojin to trick himself into believing she was his soulmate. Naomi wouldn't know better because she never experienced the universe without one, how ironic," Jiwoo muttered, putting two and two together. She was smart, she had to know it all.

"What if...Woojin really believed they were destined?"

The image of Naomi and Woojin filled your mind. You hated it yet, you could not banish it. She had someone that was always out of your grasp. Even now when she was gone, it felt like she had already won.

"No way, he couldn't see colours then. He would never," Elkie commented, shaking her head.

"No, as in, physically, genetically, it would not add up but emotionally, it would have. For him, anyway," Jiwoo paused, taking a brief glance at your visibly paling face.

"All I'm saying is Woojin cannot see colours even when you can because, well, he doesn't think that way, it's an unconscious thought...."

A gasp fell from Elkie's lips when she realised what Jiwoo meant. A hand clamped over her mouth.

Jiwoo sighed and her face fell. She hated it, you knew she hated being such a genius at times like these.

"Naomi still owns Woojin's heart. He never got over her, and it doesn't seem like he ever will."

You did not look back - even when your coffee mug smashed on the floor - as you shoved open the common room door, bolting out of your dormitory block before your friends could stop you.

Too much.

Everything was just too much.

Hot tears that you had fought so hard to keep at bay rolled down your cheeks though they were dashed away by the Autumn winds that swished by and stung your face.

Your legs betrayed you and your form sank to the floor.

Why? Out of everyone, did it have to be me? Everything was fine before he walked into my life.

You bit your lips, numb from the cold and your lack of a coat.

Sure, I was curious and wanted to know my soulmate. How stupid! Curiosity does kill the cat after all.

Still, tears fell onto the - fortunately empty - sidewalk. It was bare, just like your mind. Your thoughts cleared like the grey clouds but no sunshine appeared, unlike in the sky.

"Y/N?"

At the sound of that voice, your tears seemed to evaporate, the dreaded churning of your stomach began. There was no need for a once-over for you to know who the person was.

You wish you needed to.

His steps drew closer to you, it seemed like he had something to say.

Long ago, you would have wanted that to happen. For him to talk to you, to work things out.

However, that was then, this was now.

Too much had happened in one hour, too much to comprehend.

He was like the Autumn before the winter, warm and welcoming before morphing into cold and frightening.

The more steps he took closer, the more you felt yourself shrink back. The silencing gnawed at you.

Not today.

It seems like everything occurred today. Save some things for another time.

This was not the last time you would encounter him or anything related to his existence.

Without a word or a single glance, you shoved past your 'soulmate' and stormed back into the building where you needed to meet your fate.

You awoke to the gentle drumming of rain, the telltale pit-pats of droplets of water slipping down your dormitory room window. Of course, the glum weather reflected your mood.

Existing felt meaningless.

What good am I to Woojin? He doesn’t even see value in our bond.

You sat up in your bed, still tucked in by the thick duvet - without it, your figure would be shivering but it did nothing to warm your heart.

Somehow, the drizzle seemed comforting, like you were not the only one grieving. Maybe the blue sky transformed just to mourn with you.

For every drop of rain that fell to the ground, your heart sank a metre deeper. Yesterday, your hopes and dreams were dashed but perhaps today, the rain was here to wash all those away.

Rain could mean sorrow, it could bring some sadness. Yet, it also called for change, a time to start afresh.

You yawned and stretched, thoughts still far-fetched. Campus grounds were filled with mist in the mornings, much like your mind. There were a ton of things yet to be figured out.

Maybe it rained today, to clear the fog. Maybe it rained today, to lift your spirit. Lift the haze, clear up the confusions.

Maybe today was the day you would work things out.