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deejadabbles · 4 years ago

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SPELLS OF DEFIANCE (ATEM X READER X YUGI) CHAPTER 8

EIGHT: BLOOD

One //// Two //// Three //// Four //// Five //// Six //// Seven //// Eight //// [Nine coming soon]

Summary: The Circle of Magicians protects the world from rogue, murderous fey. The police who keep bloodsuckers and flesh-eaters in check. You’ve hunted vampires for years, earning a reputation as one of the best magicians in that field; but what happens when an encounter with a particular vampire makes your already fragile loyalties split? Supernatural/Demon Hunter AU. Vampire!Atem x Reader x Incubus!Yugi (yes, a polyamorous relationship). Warnings for cursing, vulgar language, violence, and some sexual themes.

A.N: Sorry this took so long to get out, personal upheavals and writer's block has been kicking my butt lately. Anywho, I hope you guys like this update, but I do want to warn all of you that there are depictions of violence and an incident involving self-harm in this chapter. Please be cautious of reading this chapter if those are themes you're sensitive to. As always comments are greatly appreciated and help keep me motivated to continue writing, thank you for reading. Oh, also, I made mood boards/edits for this series, in case any of your are interested in that <3

A crack so thunderous that it shook the walls around you sounded. Ears rang, blood spilled, and someone laughed. A sound cold and cruel bellowed as you were thrown back, senses reeling and vision blackening as skin made painful contact with the cement floor.

“Keith!” Duke’s eyes were wide as he watched you fly back, his own ears stinging even when he looked back to his fellow magician with a glare. “They said to take her alive, you idiot!” His fists clenched, eyes darting to the man’s arm. It still surged and flashed with lightning, flickers of electricity darting across his skin from his overpowered spell. His palm remained trained on you, and the seal on his palm still glowed from the magic.

Keith had the gall to chuckle again, “Relax, pretty boy. Even I know that wouldn’t kill her.”

Duke’s eyes widened again, and he looked back in your direction, finding you had managed to land on your knees, head bowed and arm holding you up as your shoulders shook with every labored breath.

“At least the attack broke down her defenses. Bitch always was good at keeping her armor up,” Keith added, sick grin glowering down at you.

You raised your head, vision finally coming back into focus after the attack. Your nose had broken from the impact, trailing red down your mouth and chin. However, to Keith’s obvious annoyance, the only other sign of harm were the glass-like cracks coating your face, your personal shield deteriorating under the force of his spell. He was right, you had always had a talent in armor spells, casting a constant barrier around your body, coating you in protection like a second skin. Your ability to redirect that shield to take the brunt of his attack was the only reason you weren’t a gory mess on the floor. It came at a cost though, and Keith knew it, you wouldn’t have the power to recast your armor spell for awhile.

You were vulnerable.

“Should have known they’d send their favorite dog after me,” you said, trying to make your form as steady as possible when you rose to your feet. Your jeans were rent, knees bloody and torn from the concrete.

Still, you stood tall.

Keith laughed again, “Well, not like they were gonna send pretty boy after you alone.” He shifted then, body moving into a combative pose, ready to fight. “Damn, I’m going to enjoy this.”

You actually smirked back at him, adrenaline kinking up your energy. Your eyes wandered past Keith’s shoulder, noting the wide cracks and barely stable wall just behind him.

Yes, that would do nicely.

A quick fluid motion and you reached out with your magic, grabbing hold of the crumbling stone, and pulled. The concrete followed in a thunderous cloud, and Keith barely had time to turn before the debris crashed down on him with a shout.

It wouldn’t be enough, you knew, but it bought time. You turned to Duke, grabbing a particularly large piece of rubble with your magic, just as your old friend’s face fell.

“Ah shit,” Duke muttered, then flung himself out of the way as you threw the debris.

Dust and curses were flung into the air, giving you the perfect cover as you jumped through a broken window of the nearest building, taking refuge behind the rotting walls. Let them chase you, they wouldn’t even realize the roles of hunter and prey were switched before it was too late.

You began your ascent to the top of the five-story building, climbing through holes in the floorboards and pouncing off rickety steps. Just as you cleared the third floor you heard a rumble and knew that Keith must have blasted his way out of the rubble. That was confirmed a moment later when you heard him scream at Duke, demanding to know where you went. Another yell at Duke’s answer, then Keith’s angry voice was ordering them to slip up, him taking one building, and Duke the other.

You grinned to yourself at the foolhardy decision- though you instantly regretted it when blood seeped past your lips at the act. You were definitely in for a lot of pain when this was over.

You were on the top floor now and heard the sounds of someone moving about below. He must have assumed you would go for higher ground, because the movements got closer a split second later; a teleportation spell. You looked up, finding the gutted state of this floor to your advantage despite the wide-open space. The ceilings were high, and the half-exposed rafters in those ceilings were dark, a perfect perch.

The footsteps grew closer as you jumped, climbing into the rafters with almost cat-like grace, and waited for whichever man had chosen this building. Unfortunately, you almost gave sigh when a whisper of a voice called out your name. Of course it had to be Duke.

He was within sight now, rising from the less than stable staircase on the other side of the room. His approach was cautious, eyes scanning the area with care as he called out to you again.

“I know you’re up here, so I’m going to ask you this now, come out and neither of us has to get hurt. I...I know this looks bad, but- damn it, you know I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to hunt you like- like some fey monster. Just come back with me, come back home and I promise I’ll help you convince the Council it was a big, messy mistake. I’m not the only one on your side, either. Mahad, Mana, Ryou- we’re all worried about you.”

Despite your taut state, his words actually did send something sharp through your chest. Memories of a younger Duke winking and flipping his hair at you played in your head, alongside other memories of him curled up beside your hospital bed and his hand gripped in yours as you pulled each other to safety. Friends weren’t actually touted as something valuable in the Circle, but Duke was one of the few you considered to be exactly that.

He cursed, then said your name a third time, sounding particularly desperate now, “I don’t want Keith to find you first,” he said to the room, his eyes continuing to scan the area. “You know what he’s like, and I think...I think his plan is to kill you, and tell the Council he had no other choice. I don’t want that to happen...”

Your hands gripped the wood of the rafters as Duke walked right below your hiding spot. Then, with an exhale of breath, you jumped down. Before he even had time to turn you cast your quick spell and pushed. It was barely enough force to make him tumble, but it put enough distance between you two as he swung around and narrowed his eyes.

“I’m sorry Duke,” you said, and took your battle stance, “but I can’t go back. I won’t.”

Something genuine filled his eyes, something hurt or desperate, but his expression was steel as he said, “Alright.”

Then his hands were moving, tracing a symbol in the air and it glowed with his magic. There was no use trying to dodge it, when his casting was finished an invisible force like a black hole began pulling you in, sucking in every loose object in the room. Your feet left the ground and you were practically flying towards the void his magic created- but you were ready.

Just as you were within range you flung an arch of fire, one that passed his black hole and slashed across his chest. With his concentration broken, the spell faltered, glowing sigil fading like a burnt bulb- though the power of its pull still sent you flying into the wall. Your bones ached in protest as you fell to the ground, but you didn’t- couldn’t miss a beat before springing back to your feet. Just in time too, because Duke was already on you. Your arms blocked his kick, before answering with an uppercut, and the moment he stumbled you shot another burst of fire that sent him falling.

Duke was an agile thing, though, and recovered before you could even fire another shot. A dance began, bursts of your flames soaring through the air one after another after another, and Duke using his own magic to cast them aside with graceful hands.

A full-on fire wasn’t what you were aiming for though, and you saw the pain twinge across his face when your strikes grazed his jacket. And finally, it was enough. Duke shouted in pain as the flames caught and spread across his coat. Much like you and Keith, magicians like Duke had their own armor, he just imbued the magic in a literal coat. Now, as Duke scrambled to pull the flaming garment off, his defenses were down, just like yours.

You didn’t let up, as much as you wanted to, and closed in on Duke as he threw his leather armor aside. A hard kick and he was sent to the ground, but his boot made painful contact with your sternum, shoving you away as he sprang back to his feet. Another flame, another shout of pain and you moved in for the proverbial kill.

He was fast, and threw his hand up, summoning a portal a mere step in front of you. You couldn’t stop your advance and fell through the portal with a shout. Suddenly falling through open air, you barely had time to register a pile of sharp somethings just below you, and cast flames to turn it to ash a moment before crashing into it.

Your senses reeled, coughing as ash flew down your throat and plumed about you, your body screaming in protest. You shook your head, opening your eyes to see that he had teleported you to the floor below. You had landed on a busted table or some other furniture that the old studio apartment was full of.

Just as you were standing up you heard a familiar sound, another portal- but a blow struck your ribs before you could react. You stumbled, knocking into another table as Duke closed in and tried for a second, but you jumped, landing on top of the table which his fist struck instead. You spun, landing the heel of your foot across his face with a resounding crack . The force was enough to slam him down hard on the table and later you would wince at the crimson that spat across the surface. Still he recovered, enough to knock into your knee and make it buckle, but it was a desperate move; one that allowed you to grab a fist full of his hair and slam him back into the table with even more force.

He went slack in an instant, sliding to the ground like a rag doll as you stepped back. A groan, and then stillness. You watched for a moment until you confirmed the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“I’m- sorry, Duke,” you panted. He would hurt when he woke, and hot guilt prickled across your skin, especially at the sigh of his bloodied mouth. Still, you had to remind yourself that all in all, he would be fine, especially after the Sanctuary's healers saw to him. Besides, no matter how brutal the attacks seemed, it was far from the worst you’d dealt in a battle. And you did take a second to appreciate how much Duke’s combat skills had improved, he had grown a lot from the boy you used to sweep-kick into submission every time you two sparred.

You hopped off the table and knelt by his unconscious form, tugging at his belt until the spellbook that hung from it was pulled out from underneath him. You unlatched it and flipped through the pages until you found the right one. If you wanted to get past that barrier, you have to break the seal Duke used to cast it. You thought you had found the right one when you turned to the first glowing page, but to your surprise, that sigil was not for a barrier, but for a mute spell, used when you wanted no one outside a certain area to hear you. Well, you wondered why your fight hadn’t drawn Keith’s attention, apparently Duke had wanted privacy when trying to persuade you to surrender yourself.

You moved past the thought, not having time to dwell, and continued to turn pages until you found yet another glowing source. This time it was the right spell, and you hastily tore the page from the book, disrupting the magic that caged you here. You glanced out the nearest window-

But nothing happened. The glowing barrier didn’t budge.

A curse that was practically a scream ripped through your throat. Duke was smart, he must have made two parts, two seals, to his barrier. You had to destroy the other seal before you could escape.

And who else would have that second seal besides-

“Quit hiding, you bitch!”

You sighed as Keith’s taunt echoed, a quick peer over a window sill confirming that he was storming out of the other building and marching straight towards yours. You wouldn’t be able to escape without facing him. Time to take out the trash, as they say.

Only when you started rising to your feet did you finally take more notice of your injuries and you had to steady your breathing to calm the surges of pain. You suspected a fractured rib was dangerously close to becoming a broken one and the pain was sure to worsen by the minute. You had to end this quickly.

Before you moved to the other side of the room, you took a second to snatch something else off of Duke’s belt and tuck it in your own pocket. Keith was quickly bounding up the floors below you now. With a sudden plan blinking into your head, you slipped your jacket from your shoulders and using a chair for height, propped it up on a collection of loose ceiling beams. Judging by the way he was charging up the rotting staircase, it would be the first thing he would see when he got here, and you quickly slipped to the other end of the room.

Not a minute later that thundering crack sounded, an arc of lightning cutting through the air and striking the coat tucked between the rafters. And just as Keith stepped up from the stairwell a second later, you charged.

He hadn’t even managed to turn enough to cover his flank as your foot made contact with his knee- but it was like hitting steel, his barrier still protecting him even as he stumbled. With a spin your leg came up, knocking him hard in the chest and he let out a shout as he went tumbling back down the stairs. You couldn’t press the advantage though, he let off another shot of lightning, making you duck away from the stairwell in retreat.

How a lumbering muscle like him moved so fast was beyond you, but you didn’t get time to gain much distance before he was back up the steps and you were scrambling to avoid another cracking bolt- heat grazing past you even as you did. You crashed to the ground in the messy dodge, and had to roll to avoid his boot from coming down on your head as he closed in! You managed to spring back to your feet and even block one fist with your own- but his second made painful contact with your jaw.

He pressed his advantage, your ribs screaming as he wrapped his arms around your middle and threw you hard against the wall. Vision reeled as fingers gripped your hair, scalp burning as he pulled you back. Another painful wrack through your body as he slammed you again, back first, into the wall before clamping his hands around your throat.

The instinct to take in a gasp as he squeezed your windpipe was strong, but your eyes locked on his even as he chuckled.

“Told you I was going to enjoy this,” he hissed, his fingers tightening all the more.

You bared your teeth against his sick grin and focused, concentrating on channeling your magic to the palm that once bore your magician’s seal. It would take more effort than before, the magic that helped focus your attack gone, but your power was more than what the Circle had given you.

So wrapped up in his sadistic enjoyment, Keith didn’t notice your palm growing hotter- until you reached out and clamped your hand on his face. He screeched as the heat burned through the layers of his personal shield but even as his fingers recoiled to claw at your hand you held firm. A burst of glorious air filled your lungs, steeling your resolve as you rammed your knee into his groin. His knees buckled, only strengthening your advantage as your palm continued to burn against his face.

But before you could knock him further to the ground, Keith struck, a quick jab of his fist right to your injured ribs. Stars burst behind your eyes and you couldn’t keep your hold as he twisted your wrist back- though you did manage to catch his fist as he aimed to strike again. Fist and wrist caught in each other's hold, a moment-long stalemate ensued as you both struggled to get the upper hand on each other. His skin was an angry red as he growled at you, some fastly forming blisters making the faint imprint of your hand across his face.

The stalemate was broken when you slammed your forehead into his nose, something of his cracking even as your own broken bridge throbbed in pain at the motion. The moment he reared back you pushed out with your magic, the force sending him across the room. Much like you had with Duke, you kept pressing, flinging flames in a relentless onslaught that he had to dodge second by second.

He probably thought he was doing well, not a lick of flame doing more than grazing him, but then again, you weren’t trying to graze him. Each move to dodge brought him closer to your target and the moment he was lined up, you grabbed Duke's weapon from your belt. He must have expected more fire because he didn’t have time to change tactics as the end of a rope dart soared towards him instead of flames. The blade swung, wrapping the rope around Keith’s throat as his eyes widened but even as he made to tug at it, you were faster. WIth all the force you could conjure, you aimed your spell at him, sending him stumbling even further back. He didn’t stand a chance as you closed the distance at a run- and slammed your foot into his chest.

All that power sent him sailing through the window behind him with a shattering crash!

You had just enough time to hold your end of the rope firm before it was pulled taught by Keith’s falling body. You did stumble from the force of his stop, but you held tight and quickly managed to anchor the rope. Not a second later were you hopping through the window yourself and landing, with some effort, to the concrete ground below.

After getting your bearings, you stood tall and looked up, eyes landing on a struggling Keith as he squirmed against the rope wrapped around his neck. He was a good three feet off the ground, and you had to admit, you did take a bit of satisfaction watching him struggle. But, what now? Keith was as bad as they came when dealing with violent and untrustworthy magicians. But did you really intend to let the rope hang him?

Just as you stepped forward, Keith took the decision out of your hands, reaching to the back of his belt even as his veins started to pop across his neck and face. He produced a knife, and you couldn’t help but sighed as he reached up to saw at the rope.

It was quick work, and you once again readied yourself as he fell to the ground, coughing. This was, admittedly, bad, you could feel your stores of magic depealting, and the pain of your injuries was getting harder to ignore.

He recovered quickly enough to snap his head up and glare at you quite vehemently, “Bitch!”

“You really need to think of a better insult,” you sighed as he scrambled to charge at you.

You lunged to the side when he made to grab you around the middle again, but he was quick on the turn and something flashed in the sunlight as your hand came up to block him. He dropped the blade into his free hand and made to stab again- only to be thrown over your shoulder as you turned into his grip. Though he hit the ground hard, sprawling out with a grunt, he was quick with a kick and landed a hard blow on your shoulder. He took your grip on his hand to his advantage too, and hoisted himself back up while throwing you off balance.

Then a scream ripped through your throat! Hot pain sliced across your stomach, and you barely stepped back in time to avoid another slash of his knife.

You clambered further from him, hand reflexively covering your belly and assessing the damage. The cut was shallow, even as it burned and bled crimson, but it was a large gash. This had to end, now!

Red-faced, boil-covered, and blood-stained, Keith still managed to grin at you as he brandished his blade in a taunting threat. You were vaguely aware of more red wetting your shirt, but you had to push it to the back of your thoughts as Keith made to strike again.

A block, a lunge back, a jab in retaliation, but he didn’t let up on his attacks. You found that you were being corralled closer to the building, not good. A duck as he swung his blade and you managed to swing behind him. Still crouched, you landed another hit on his knee and it was enough to make him buckle. You sprang up to land another blow but he was quicker. Another scream as his fist made contact with your ribs and you were sent tumbling back.

You crashed to the ground as the world spun, waves of pain washing through you. Yup, definitely a broken rib.

Another sick chuckle had your vision clearing enough to see Keith stalking towards you, smile widening as he tossed his blade aside. “I’ll just tell the Council I had to fry you, not like they’ll care anyway,” he held his fist up at the claim, “A close quarter impact, yeah, they’ll buy my story if they think I acted on instinct.” A second later electricity was sparking around his knuckles. “And I’ll make sure to hunt down your boyfriends too,” he continued in a hiss, and the arcs started to spread, coiling down his arm as he charged his attack, “I figure I can make them suffer a lot more than you. Yeah, I’ll enjoy that too.”

Your teeth were bared again, and a growl rumbled in your chest even as you silently prepared your own counter. Keith was always his sloppiest when he thought he had the upper hand.

A threat about staying away from Yugi and Atem was hot on your tongue, but before you could spit it out Keith was lunging, ready for the kill! Your hand shot up, catching his fist in mid-strike that might have broken your arm if not for the magic coursing through you. His lightning arched and flashed- flickering as its tendrils slowly crept down your own arm.

He had meant to send the electricity through you like an overpowered thunderbolt, but your own spell was absorbing it! You growled as the effort to redirect the energy back at him took its toll through your already battered body. He was fighting you, cursing you as he tried to tear past your magic and finish his killing blow.

A fierce cry rattled your throat as you pushed on with all your might-

Thunder so loud it might have cracked the very sky sounded. Something tore- something broke between the flesh and blood of your arm as the power between you two reached its peak! Through the bright flash, you thought you saw Keith being thrown back, but the force pushing you into the hard concrete wracked your senses, almost as much as the searing pain pulsating in your arm!

Your ears were ringing, the world had lost any real sense of balance as the sky above reeled and rolled. You were vaguely aware of clutching your arm to your chest as you bit down on your tongue, trying and failing to stop the cry of agony from leaving your throat.

A few shuttering intakes of breath and the world slowly started to right itself. Your ears were still ringing, but you managed to roll to your side (the side not screaming in pain) and find Keith, slumped motionless against the cracked building. You almost chuckled in relief. You were battered, a little bloody, and much worse for wear, but you were still standing- so to speak.

After another moment of gathering your wits, you clambered to your knees and started to rise, only then taking stock of your arm. It wasn’t as bad as if felt, though some nasty purple was already forming under the skin. The sheer amount of power between you two had been too much, and the recoil of it releasing had probably fractured a bone or two in your arm. Still, you were the one who remained conscious. You would take a bit more gratification in that once your body felt a little less like a crash-test dummy.

You made your way over to Keith’s body, taking note that he was still breathing despite looking like death warmed over. After fishing around in his jacket pocket, you found the spell paper that had the other half of the barrier seal scribbled on it. With one arm basically useless, you had to grip the corner of the paper between your teeth, and a sigh that hurt a little too much left your chest as the shimmering dome around you started to dissolve the moment you tore the parchment.

You had just enough energy left to teleport back home, and the thought of Yugi and Atem’s reactions to your state was already playing in your head as you took another step-

And fell to the ground.

A hiss of pain as you hit the concrete, and it was only then that you finally noticed the cold, seeping, numbness.

Your mind raced, but you tried to keep your breathing steady as you rolled onto your back and pulled your shirt up, realizing the lack of feeling was spreading from your stomach. Sprouting from the shallow but wide cut across your belly, there were nasty, vein-like lines crawling their way over your skin. Your eyes flashed to the dagger Keith had discarded as the answer dawned on you: poison.

You were already losing feeling in your legs, and your pitiful drops of remaining magic with it. Breaths were coming in ragged now as you tried to grip the last threads of your energy, even as you felt it slipping.

This…

This was not good.

***

“Aibou,” Atem’s tone was firm as he cut through his boyfriend’s rambling on the other end of the phone. It was only when Yugi froze in the middle of the phrase ‘what if she’s allergic-’ that Atem could finally get more than a word in. “I’m sure what you ordered is fine. We have plenty of options she can choose from, besides, if she doesn’t like what you order her, I know you’ll be willing to share your meal.”

He heard Yugi give a little sigh on the other end, “Yeah, I know, I just wish I had thought to wait until she got home before ordering.”

Atem found himself shaking his head despite the fact that Yugi couldn’t see him. Yugi was acting like he was a creature of impulse, and that ordering their takeout dinner before asking what you wanted was a recurring crime and not a simple misstep from a usually over-considerate man. “I’m sure she’ll love whatever you ordered for her, Aibou, you worry too much.”

“I know….” After the pouting pause, Atem heard a familiar bell tinkle on the other end of the line. “I have to go, be up in a bit.”

Atem said his quick “love you” before hanging up, again shaking his head at Yugi’s cute concern.

It was nearing the time for the shop to close, and Yugi had thought it a good idea to order-in dinner early, so you would have a fresh hot meal upon returning, and so the three of you would have plenty of time to follow up on any lead Bonz gave you after dinner. It was a good plan...until Yugi realized he still didn’t know all your food preferences until he was on the phone ordering said dinner.

“Too sweet sometimes,” Atem chuckled to himself, before setting the phone aside and returning to cleaning the dishes from his own mug-contained meal. Still, being reminded of the time, his mind once again traveled back to you. It was getting late. You had said it wouldn’t take long, but, exactly how long was that? He turned the knob to faucet off with a little too much force, something gory flashing in his mind as he watched the red remnants of his meal sliding down the sink into the drain.

He forced a sigh out through his nose and closed his eyes. It was hard not to worry, or, rather, to avoid that worry from stepping over the line into ‘overprotective’, as he was so known to do. Yes, it was late, but you likely had to walk, as you had mentioned you hated teleporting when it could be avoided. Maybe you had to make a stop on the way home, Yugi had mentioned some shops nearby where you could pick up essentials when needed, after all.

Atem scolded himself as he wandered out of the kitchen, unsure what to do with himself until you and Yugi came home. He had already spent a decent amount of time pulling out the video games he knew Yugi would want to show you, as well as ones he thought you might like, in the hopes that the three of you could have some bonding time later that night. Maybe he could-

Crash

In a glorious burst of glass and thick curtains splitting into ribbons, something sailed through the closed doors of the balcony. Atem’s hackles were up in an instant, even as he leapt back to avoid the sudden rays of setting sun pouring in through the remnants of the glass doors. The metallic and sweet smell of blood assaulted his senses, making his fangs elongate as he heard something heavy collide with the floor.

Then his blood turned to ice when he saw what was curled up in the wreckage. Your hand reached out feebly for just a moment before it fell, your body going still among the glass and splintered wood.

In an instant he was rushing towards you- only to hiss in pain and rear back as the sun blazed across his skin like hot talons. He felt his fangs cut into his lip as he swore loudly, you were laying right in the middle of the sunlight! He wheeled around the room, mind racing for a plan even as his mouth watered at the smell of blood permeating the air. By the gods, how badly were you hurt for the room to smell so intense in just a matter of seconds?!

Atem ran to the hallway closet, nearly tearing the door off the hinges as he threw it open. He grabbed a heavy blanket from the top shelf and started pulling it over his head and shoulders as he ran back to the living room. He barely took note of if his body was concealed in the blanket enough as he again ran to your side. Sharp shards split his skin as he tried to slide his hands under your form, and something was burning his legs as he worked. Finally though, he managed to get a hold of you good enough to pull you out of the sun and off of the debris. The moment he was out of the rays of fire, he wasted no time in gathering you in his arms and setting you on the couch as gently as he could, taking thankful note that your breathing was slow and shallow, but present.

A growl of anger and whine of concern caught in his throat when he saw the blood soaking your clothes. Colorful bruises were taking form across your skin and there were rips in your clothes sporting bloody abrasions. One was worse than the others though, and Atem found himself tearing the shirt in half so he could better see the cause of all the staining.

Another growl bubbled up as he saw the injury: a long cut right across your stomach. His hands were covering it in an instant, trying to stem the flow of red. The cut wasn’t deep and he might have wondered why there was so much blood if it wasn’t for the sickly markings crawling across your skin from the wound. What could cause this? Magic?

His mind raced for a course of action, even as it cursed his lack of knowledge in healing. What could he possibly do to counter whatever magic this-

The memory of purging the circle’s magic from your hand came flashing into his mind. You had said the curative coating his fangs must have some ability in negating magic. Could it possibly help here? He growled again as crimson continued to seep over the fingers clamped on your wound. Healing the magic or poison or whatever was afflicting you could wait, right now he just needed to make sure you didn’t bleed out!

Atem felt sick with the way his throat ached with need at the smell and sight of so much red. He knew the best way to seal the cut, but fear gave him pause. No matter how many centuries passed, no matter how long he honed his self-control, the memories of finding humans- innocent people, dead in his arms still haunted him.

Then his eyes darted up to your face. You were barely hanging on, breathing seeming to slow before his very eyes.

With all the self-control he could gather, he steeled himself against the thirst parching his throat, and pressed his mouth to the wound. He had but to graze his fangs across the torn skin so the curative on them took hold and started mending the flesh. He was painfully aware to be careful though, gentle as he moved his canines along the wound and not to worsen the cut.

As expected something like a shudder of relief (euphoria, even) shivered down his body as some of your blood seeped into his mouth. He ignored it, countered it with the self-loathing that writhed in his stomach, knowing that the thing he was could ever take any enjoyment in this.

His fingers gently followed his progress, making sure the skin was healing after the touch of his fangs. It was, and he nearly collapsed with relief when he pulled back and saw that only an angry-looking scar remained of the gash- well, of the gash itself, his brows furrowed when he saw that the vein-line markings around it were as sickly and deadly looking as before.

His mind was frantic again, searching for an answer before the sound of a door caused it to snap back to the world besides your injured form. His eyes darted up to land on Yugi, who had stepped inside only to have his smile vanish a moment later, his gaze landing on the living room.

“Help me!” Atem’s voice was raw in his throat and all but a yell, but Yugi snapped into action before he could blink.

The brown take-out bags in his hands spilled to the floor as Yugi ran to your side, “What happened!?”

“I don’t know, I think she barely managed to teleport home. I just sealed the cut that- that caused all this-” he waved his hands to indicate all the red- “but I think she’s been poisoned. Do you have anything in the shop that could heal her?”

Yugi didn’t answer, he was already fishing his phone out of his jean’s pocket as he looked over your form. One hand slid over the skin of your chest while the other frantically tapped at his phone screen, and it was only then that Atem realized the markings were still spreading.

“She’s burning up,” Yugi choked under his breath, even as the phone pressed to his ear started to ring. A moment later he was spewing a string of words into the receiver, “What could cause black marks under the skin? It might be magic, it might be poison, we don’t know which!”

After a stunned pause, Atem heard Anzu’s voice answer on the other end, hurriedly telling Yugi to send her a picture. Yugi did, snapping it as fast as he could and growling at his phone for taking too long to send it. Several long, agonizing moments ticked by as they waited for Anzu to answer, and when she did Yugi was scrambling to his feet and bolting back down the stairs to the shop. Atem almost ran after him, but the need to stay by your side anchored him, pulled him to stay right there. He looked back at you, chest clenching at the sight. Your skin was clammy, face taking on a bit of a hollow look as your chest barely lifted with each breath that had long pauses between them.

Atem found his hands reaching out to cup your face, the red staining them smearing across your cheeks as he tried to hold you. “Please- please just hold on,” he whispered.

A too-long moment later Yugi was bounding up the stairs and through the door again. Atem saw something flash in his hand as he fell to his knees beside the couch. A blade.

“You’re sure this will work?” Yugi panted as he tapped the speaker button on his phone and set it on the floor.

“It’s the best option you have,” Anzu’s voice snapped from the phone’s speaker, “but you have to put it on the same spot the poison entered.”

Though the remaining scar made that spot obvious, Atem pointed the wound out to Yugi, who looked pale as he hovered the dagger over your stomach.

“You’re going to need to hold her down,” came a shaky warning from the phone, just before Yugi pressed the flat of the blade to the scar.

An ear-splitting scream ripped through your throat and Atem flung himself to the other side of the couch, shaking hands gripping your shoulders as your body began to writhe. As gently as he could he pinned your shoulders to the couch, heart aching at the cries of pain spilling through your clenched teeth. Yugi, still holding the blade flat to your stomach, had to throw his body across your legs to keep them from thrashing and Atem thought he heard a distressed noise from the phone, but it was worth it as he saw the edges on the markings slowly begin to recede.

***

Yugi was fighting back tears. Now that the adrenaline was gone, stress and worry drug and tore at his senses, making it harder not to sob as he wiped the blood from your skin. The poison was purged from your body, thank god, but, if you had not already been passed out from the blood loss, the act of drawing the drug out of your body certainly would have knocked you out cold. Yugi was thankful, not for the first time, that his grandpa’s old collection of magic artifacts was full of unique pieces, including one blessed by patrons of healing from several religions.

For about the fiftieth time, Yugi dipped the washcloth into the bowl of hot water, wringing out the stomach-churning red. The apartment smelled like a crime scene and Yugi knew he’d have to shower for an hour to feel clean again, but at least you were alive. You looked sick, and Yugi watched you like a hawk to make sure your breathing didn’t stop, even though Anzu had warned that you’d probably look worse before you got better.

Once the washcloth was rinsed of blood he gently swiped it across your body again. He was trying to find a good balance between taking care of you, and not doing anything that might make you uneasy. He wanted to get the gore-soaked clothes off of you, put you in something clean, something comfortable so you didn’t have to wake in your own blood. He had even gathered a pair of his extra stretchy, soft sweatpants and oversized flannels to put you in, but the actual act of changing you felt too… Violating, too perverse despite the fact that no ill-acts were at work. As it was, he felt guilty that your shirt was nothing but a torn rag, leaving your chest bare as he tried to clean the red from your skin. Maybe you didn’t care, maybe you were used to this, being a warrior of sorts, but Yugi felt sick at the idea of crossing a line with you. In the end, he figured Anzu could change you, she was on her way there with a healer’s hut worth of herbs and spells to get you patched up, after all.

Another sniff that threatened to turn into a sob later and Yugi was finally done wiping your chest and stomach clean. You were still covered in marks from your battle, but at least this was better. He grabbed a blanket that was discarded on the ground (had Atem used it to shield himself from the sun?), made sure it was clean enough for you with a quick look over, then tucked it over your body for privacy and warmth.

Next, he moved on to your face, which was not nearly as messy, but some ash dirtied your skin under thin smears of blood. The vague memory of coming back to find Atem desperately holding your face with red-stained hands floated through Yugi’s mind as he dabbed the cloth over your cheeks with care.

That cleaning didn’t take long, and when he was done, Yugi suddenly found himself at a loss. What else could he do? Should he get you a glass of water for when you woke? Run a hot bath so you could slip into it at a moment’s notice? Tuck another blanket around you so you felt safe and protected while you healed? Hold you so you didn’t have to wake alone and pained and-

Yugi dug the heels of his hands into his eyes with a tired, defeated groan. He hated feeling useless, feeling like he could do nothing while the people he loved suffered. Again he had to swallow the sour taste of tears, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good now.

Then, before he could even think, he found his hands reaching out to gather yours. Your right arm was badly damaged, swollen and bruised, but your left seemed fine, and Yugi leaned in, lay your palm on his cheek as he silently thanked you for having the strength to come home to them, for surviving long enough for them to take care of you. An odd thing to think, perhaps, but Yugi allowed himself the moment of thanks, even moving his lips to press against your palm in gentle affection.

He lingered there for a few moments, comforted by the feel of your no longer fevered skin against his and watching your breaths get stronger and more even with every moment. Soon enough though, he forced himself to tuck your hand back under the blanket and get back to making himself useful. The living room floor was still a mess of broken glass and splintered wood, but first he took the bucket of blood-tinted water to the kitchen, and it was only when the red was streaking down the slope of the sink that he remembered someone else in distress.

Atem had taken off not long after they purged the poison from your body, his face looking sickly and pale. Yugi knew Atem might need space, and besides that his mind was preoccupied with taking care of you first, something Atem would understand. Now however, now that you were sleeping as soundly as you could, it was time to tend to his vampire.

It didn’t take long to find him, Yugi heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and padded over to the open doorway. Atem stood over the sink, steam pluming up from the hot water to fog up the mirror and porcelain and-

And Yugi froze when he saw scarlet coating the sink.

Atem was scrubbing his hands under the scalding water, nails digging in so much that the skin was tearing and healing rapidly before Yugi’s eyes. Not fast enough to stop the bleeding, though, and the ferocity of which Atem was scrubbing his hands and arms was causing red to pour like a waterfall.

“Atem!” Yugi rushed forward, “Stop- STOP!”

He tried to pry the vampire’s hands away, so desperate he almost dug his own claws into his lover’s skin. Atem only jerked out of his hold, eyes wild and panicked as he shied away from the incubus.

“What...what are you doing?” Yugi’s words were panted, trying to stay calm and only half succeeding as he approached Atem like a scared, injured creature.

Atem’s eyes were locked on his own hands, reproachful almost, but mostly enraged. “I can’t- I can’t get it off!” he raised them a little, still raw and bloody from the abuse, “No matter how much I try it won’t go away! I can still smell her blood on my hands, Yugi!”

He snatched a towel from beside the sink and started scrubbing at his hands again, but Yugi rushed forward and gripped them with as much gentle force as he could manage.

“Enough,” he said in a whisper, “that’s enough, Atem, please, please don’t hurt yourself.” With a tug, he pulled Atem close, held his vampire’s healing hands to his chest as he peppered reassuring kisses over Atem’s face. “It’s okay, everything’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not, Yugi!” a sob marred the words, and Yugi felt his heart break. “I can’t stand it, it makes me sick, just like the others.”

Yugi knew what ‘the others’ meant, remembered calming Atem down from nightmares, holding a sobbing vampire who was still haunted by the memories of killing when he wasn’t in control of his blood lust. It didn’t matter that it had been over a century since the last time he woke with a dead human in his arms, Atem still remembered them, still told himself he was a killer with blood on his hands that could never be washed clean.

Just like on the nights filled with those memories, Yugi held Atem close, whispered assurances in his ear, told him it wasn’t his fault, ignored the stabs to his heart when Atem told him it was.

“We almost lost her, Yugi.”

“But we didn’t.”

“I had her blood on my hands, in my mouth-”

“You saved her, Atem.”

Silence followed that, and for a long, long while they just stood there, clinging on to each other like a life line. Yugi tried to put forth some more gentle words, but Atem said nothing more, only pressed his face into Yugi’s chest with a sob so tired that Yugi had the urge to tuck Atem into bed too. He even suggested it, said that Atem could rest in the living room with you while he tended to you both, but the vampire just shook his head and held Yugi closer. That is until he finally pulled away with a sniffle.

Atem tucked his hands closer to himself, self-conscious, unsure. “You should get back into the living room, I think Anzu is here and she’ll want your help healing her wounds.”

He was right, not even a second later they heard the front door open and Anzu's worried voice calling out to them before she spotted you on the couch with a gasp. Still, Yugi stood there, eyeing his boyfriend’s hands with concern.

“Atem-”

“I’m okay, Yugi,” he assured, then sighed and gestured at the sink, “I won’t try that again, I promise. I just...I just need a minute to collect myself, that’s all.”

Yugi had learned to tell when Atem was lying long ago, but he knew Atem was being truthful now, so, he just stepped forward, cupped his hands to Atem’s face, and said, “You know we’re here for you, right?”

Atem actually managed a slight, tired, smile, “I know, Aibou, I know.” He leaned in and pecked Yugi’s lips, “Now go, help her.”

Finally somewhat assured, Yugi nodded and stepped out of the bathroom, back to the side of someone else who needed him. Still, Yugi was only fully assured when Atem joined them a few minutes later and started helping him and Anzu dress your wounds with poultices and spells.

#writing fight scenes are soooooo haaaaard!#also damn why does if feel like nothing actually happened in this chapter even though it's my typical length??#I promise more mushy relationship development will come in the next chapter <3 #atem x reader #yami x reader #yugi x reader #atem x reader x yugi #yugi x reader x yami #ygo #yugioh #Atem #yugi mutou #yugioh x reader #series: spells of defiance

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drxwsyni · 5 years ago

Text

Petrified (pt.2)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: okaayy this took longer to write than i was hoping for but here it is!

4.2k words

Warnings: some harassment, light injury

It amazed you that despite the extreme overuse of your quirk in the past thirty-six hours, you were still able to hold on to a remaining amount of wavering consciousness. You’d like to think it was because you’ve grown stronger after using it so much over the past few years. In reality, it was most likely due to the chilled wind that blew against your form keeping you awake as you walked home, mind still reeling from the events towards the end of your shift.

On a normal weekday the venture back to your apartment would only take roughly fifteen minutes, twelve if you took a few less than safe shortcuts. Now however, the concept of time was not something your short circuited brain could understand. With limbs feeling like they were made of lead, you could only imagine how much longer this ordeal was going to take.

With your brain on autopilot, you let your thoughts wander in hopes that you’d just blank until you reached your destination. That was until you met the familiar alleyway to your left on the sidewalk.

Doing a quick cost-benefit analysis, you deduced that in your state, shaving off a few minutes of travel time with this detour may be crucial if you want to make it home without collapsing before you got there. Although you were aware of the shady business that went down in areas like this, the alleyway was the only option if you wanted to fall asleep in your own bed.

It was pitch black outside, a few dim street lamps serving as the only form of illumination. The alleyway was dark, but there was just enough light bouncing off the walls for you to discern the narrow path ahead.

You made a final decision, turning down the path despite the pit in your stomach that had just begun to form. I just need to focus on getting home, you told yourself, attempting to calm your nerves.

About thirty feet in and you realized just how stupid you were for ever thinking this was a good idea.

On the other side of the alleyway, the only exit to the narrow path, you could just barely see the silhouette of a tall, large figure step into the clearing. Squinting, your clouded brain slowly identified that the person, seemingly a man, was gradually walking in your direction.

By now you were about halfway through the passage. Understanding that the man likely had bad intentions, you pivoted on your heels and sped up back down the way you came.

...At least that’s what you were going to do, but blocking your path, lazily sauntering in your direction were two more equally large statured men.

Just like that your heart sunk into the now gaping pit in your stomach, the feeling giving you whiplash. Frozen in place, you felt your heart pounding as if it were ready to burst right through your chest. It’s okay, just give them your bag and run for it if they try anything, it’s not like you’d lose much anyways.

You looked back around to see the first figure had drawn close, now standing roughly ten feet away. Head whipping to face the other two again, you found them to have closed the same distance.

One of them, you couldn’t tell who in the darkness, spoke up. “Hey there cutie, what’s a little lady like you doing out all by herself?” His voice was rough, sounding like he smoked a pack a day.

Behind you the other man joined in, startling you. “Yeah, don’t you know how dangerous it is at night baby?”

At this point he had produced what looked like a crowbar. He may have had it before, but your memory was already failing you. The effects of your rapidly increasing heart rate were becoming unbearably severe at this point. Seeing black spots forming at the edges of your vision, along with a dizziness that felt sickening, you wondered if you’d even be able to reason with these guys.

Somehow you sputtered out a defence. “I-I swear, whatever money I have y-you can take it. I really don’t want any trouble, I promise.”

You hear a low chuckle behind you, but you didn’t turn around, or rather you couldn’t, fear taking root and holding you in place.

“C’mon now sugar, we just wanna have a little fun is all. Why don’t you just be good and play along, yeah?”

Nothing you could’ve done would make any words come out of your mouth in protest. Instead, all you could comprehend was the sudden absence of noise around you.

The men hadn’t left, and there was still the sound of distant life outside the alleyway that could probably be heard. But none of that was being processed in your mind.

Dimly, you could see the man in front of you talking, his mouth moving to form words, but it was clear now that the surge of panic and adrenaline had incapacitated your form. Your hearing had failed you, replaced with what sounded like blood rushing through your head.

It was time for the rest of your body to follow suit, crumbling under the severe exhaustion and aggressive response from your body trying to activate its fight or flight senses.

Knees buckling beneath your form, your body swayed slightly to the side as you collapsed hard onto the concrete. Laying there completely limp, your eyes fluttered closed with heavy eyelids. You processed that nothing you could do would prevent unconsciousness, effectively giving up.

It took a few more seconds for sleep to completely envelope you, now unable to even lift a finger in protest. Maybe it was just hallucinations from your lucid, half asleep state, but you could’ve sworn you could make out the distant sounds of loud cursing from multiple people. Maybe even a few pained grunts here and there.

But that comprehension was swiftly cut short, your body finally succumbing to its stresses, knocking you out like a light.

_______

Hizashi was seated in a cushioned armchair positioned just off the edge of the hospital bed so he could keep an eye on the figure laying in front of him. Eyes unmoving from that one spot, he watched the rise and fall of your chest as your unconscious form remained otherwise still.

For a moment he glanced at his wristwatch, seeing that he’d been looking after you for a little under two hours, now being 11:06 pm. During all this time your form had remained in what the doctors had explained as pretty much a coma, brought on by extreme strain of the body’s energy. It wasn’t likely to last long, but the reasoning behind it was concerning enough that they’d administered fluids which you were also lacking by an equally unhealthy amount.

Having more than enough time to think, the voice hero attempted to deduce any possible explanations as to how you’d let your health deteriorate so much. He’d had his fair share of experience when it came to seeing what the effects of overworking can have on the human body. This however was most definitely up there, especially for someone in your line of work.

Bringing him out of his thoughts, a nurse lightly rapped on the door before entering. “Pardon me Yamada sir, but visitor hours ended at 9 pm. I’m going to have to insist that you leave for tonight. You can come again starting at 6:30 am tomorrow however.”

Knowing he’d overstayed his welcome, the blond silently agreed, standing out of his seat and grabbing his jacket that was hanging off the back of it. He gave you one last look, inwardly wishing there was more he could do for you at the moment, before taking his leave.

Hizashi was headed back to his car when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, pulling it out almost frantically.

From: Shouta <3

Just got back from the station. I already know what you’re going to say, just tell me when you get home and focus on driving. See you soon.

11:10 pm

It was obvious his partner was equally concerned over the state you were in, especially given how he reacted when they apprehended the thugs trying to take advantage of you. Knowing he’d have to wait so as not to irritate Shouta more than he likely already was, the voice hero put his phone away and traded it for an electronic key, unlocking the sleek, black car and stepping in.

The ride home felt like it took ages, his mind still racing whilst going over the events from that night. Attempting to ease his conscience, Hizashi decided to take the time to figure out what he’d say to his partner. Specifically, how they’d deal with you.

_____

When he finally pulled into the driveway it felt as if he was going mad, still reeling from the thoughts of what could’ve happened if him and Shouta didn’t find you in time.

Pushing those scenarios to the back of his head, the blond stepped out of the car and made his way to the front entrance. He typed in the combination to the keypad, hearing the locking mechanism shift before reaching for the handle.

It was silent in the house as he walked in, closing the door behind him. Looking over to the dining room table, he saw the bouquet of flowers you’d arranged for Shouta that night, beautifully settled into a vase.

Distantly, Hizashi could hear the thumping of footsteps above him. Knowing who they belonged to, he resolved to hang up his jacket before anxiously waiting for his partner in the living room.

On queue, Shouta made his way downstairs, hair still wet from showering. Plopping down on the living room couch with an audible sigh, he started. “I got the information of the guys who attacked (y/n) before I left. They’re behind bars so there’s nothing more we can do.”

The blond was leaning against the mantle of the fireplace, arms crossed while anxiously tapping his foot as if waiting for permission to start his rant.

Expectedly, his partner lazily waved, as if to say ‘get it over with.’ In truth, he knew what Hizashi was going to say, and he agreed, but the fact of the matter was that his partner always ended up being overzealous with his passions. The only thing that mattered right now was working out a way to properly deal with both of their concerns.

“Y’know when ya told me how tired the poor thing looked after coming home last week from the shop, I thought you meant like how you look after patrolling all night.”

Shouta disregarded the insult, knowing full well how he appeared sometimes after doing so.

“But this is just―she fucking passed out from getting scared, that shit ain’t normal Shou’.”

His counterpart let him calm down for a second before acknowledging the situation. “I know, you think it doesn’t bother me just as much?” He leaned back into the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I didn’t think it was this bad. But it could honestly just be a medical problem. Chronic fatigue, severe anxiety...or something like that.”

The blond lightly shook his head. “Maybe, it’s just… I don’t know babe, something seems off to me. And I know you’re thinking it’s me overreacting again, but would ya just hear me out?”

The frustration in the air was palpable, neither being able to settle on a flimsy excuse. “No, you’re not overreacting. I got the same feeling, we just can’t jump to conclusions right now, got it?”

Hizashi’s shoulders slumped in a mixture of relief over the mutual understanding of concern, and defeat for having to hold off on his suspicions.

As if his counterpart knew exactly how the man felt, he continued. “Let’s just wait it out for a bit. Hell, how many people have we seen go through similar things. It’s likely she’ll just have to rest up for a bit. Nothing to worry about.”

The blond sighed, “Sure, whatever―I’m still gonna check up on her tomorrow though, ‘kay?”

“Of course. Now go take a shower, I can smell you from here.”

The atmosphere became a little less tense, having reached a conclusion.

Hizashi chuckled lightly before walking off in the direction of their bedroom, leaving Shouta to relax in the comfort of a quiet house.

_____

The sound of a steady, electronic beeping was the first thing you could make sense of as your body gradually gained back its senses. It was hard, but you channelled every ounce of energy in your body to open your eyes, albeit halfway, to assess your surroundings.

The first thing you noticed was the warm lighting cast upon a bleak white ceiling above. It felt comforting, serving as assistance to calm the growing worry you felt from not knowing where you were. It was likely late in the evening or perhaps sunrise you concluded.

Moving still proved to be difficult, so instead you opted for momentarily trying to piece together what scattered memories you had.

Vaguely, you recall going home after your shift, noting the holes in the messy timeline from what you assume was fatigue-induced memory loss. Next was the unforgettable sense of dread you felt after being trapped by two...no, three people? There were a few lines of conversation thrown around by the perpetrators which you couldn’t quite remember the exact contents of, and given the situation maybe that was a good thing. That’s where the encounter ended, and you were left to assume that like the Saturday shift incident you had long ago, you passed out mostly from exhaustion.

With that done you forced yourself to identify the current situation at hand. It seemed judging by the sterile looking ceiling and walls, along with the telltale beeping sounding off to your left, you were in a hospital room.

It also seemed that you were lying on a somewhat stiff bed, blankets covering you from the chest down, the weight of it revealing its presence. Aching for more information, you struggled with the dead weight of your form with a low groan, moving to prop yourself up on your left elbow.

From this position you could see the heart monitoring device clipped onto your index finger, along with an IV protruding from the top of your hand. Following the tube connected, your eyes landed on a bag of clear fluid hanging on a metal post behind you. The sudden movement catching up to you, a low throbbing formed in the back of your skull, prompting you to hold your head in the hand not secured with medical equipment.

Sighing, you weakly sat up fully in bed and saw that your clothing had been replaced with a hospital gown. You were still so out of it that the quiet sound of a light snoring noise to your right almost went unnoticed. But it didn’t, and you turned your head slowly to the source.

Awkwardly slumped in a cushioned chair to your right was a man, deep in slumber with his head hanging slightly to the side. You assessed his sleep induced state, eyes traveling over his features.

Long black hair hanging loose around his shoulders, mild eye bags, scar under his right eye.

Little by little your memory identified him as the same man who you’d assisted twice now at the floral boutique in which you worked at. What was his name again? It started with an s right? Sh...Shou….God, what was it?

“Shouta! Get up!” A loud voice boomed to your left, causing you to dizzily swerve your head in its direction. Standing in the doorframe of your single patient room was a tall, blond haired man carrying a bouquet of flowers in his right.

Present Mic, you thought, or rather Hizashi, something he made startlingly clear for you to call him.

Jarred awake at the disturbance, the once sleeping man sat up abruptly in his chair, eyes falling on your deeply rigid form.

And what exactly are they doing in your hospital room, much less alone with you while you were sleeping?

Most likely sensing the uncomfortableness mixed with confusion in your demeanor, Shouta spoke up. “I’m sorry, we don’t mean to alarm you in your state. I take it you’d like an explanation as to how you ended up here.”

Hizashi had found his way to the right side of your bed, not after setting the flowers down on a side table first. You waited a few more seconds, collecting your thoughts before responding.

“Um...yeah. That would be nice I guess.” You ended up croaking out the response from the dryness and lack of recent speaking.

The voice hero sat down on the edge of the bed, a small but warm smile on his face almost as if to ease your nerves. “Well songbird, your lucky Shouta and I found ya when we did last night. You’d gone and passed out while some nasty ol’ guys tried to attack you.”

There was a pause before his counterpart continued, giving you a moment to let the new information sink in. “We decided to go on patrol together for a few hours after leaving your shop. Our sources mentioned some criminal behaviour around the area you were in, so naturally we went there first.”

With these crucial bits of information revealed, you picked at your memories once again. Vaguely, the sounds of what you now presume to be fighting were the last things you can recall.

“And thank god we did. Ya must have been so frazzled that the scare put you to sleep. Can’t even begin to imagine what would’ve happened if you were alone.” Hizashi’s point didn’t make you feel better, but he was right, last night was a combination of your worst qualities happening all at once.

You must have visibly shuddered at that statement too, mind wandering to the plethora of possibilities those men could have gotten up to. “But nothing more happened, I can assure you. ‘Zashi and I dealt with the guys and called the police to pick them up. We were worried about your condition so he carried you to his car and drove you to the hospital before an ambulance arrived to save time, I stayed to wait for backup. You’ve been asleep since.”

Silently, you noted the reduced throbbing in your head, figuring the impact of your skull crashing into the pavement was to blame. And then it dawned on you, You’ve been here long enough to be changed into a gown and given an IV?

“Ah...exactly how long have I been asleep?” Your voice was shaky, weak even from just having woken up and still feeling the ache of fatigue.

Shouta decided to relay this piece of news, using a calm tone in an attempt to not alarm you. “The attack happened last night at around 9:15, it’s roughly 6:30 in the evening right now so you’ve been asleep for almost a whole day.”

Oh...well that’s definitely cause for concern. On the bright side it’s a new record! But, if that’s the case then how long have they been waiting for you to wake up…

If it was a long time then you’d feel bad for ruining their Friday night, and all of their Saturday. This realization alone was enough to give a skip in your heartbeat.

“I stayed with ya for a bit while Shou cleared some stuff up with the police, but I ended up gettin’ kicked out not too long after by the nurses cause of visitor hours being done and all that. We both came to check on you this morning and he’s stayed here since then. I just got ‘ere to switch shifts but whaddya know, our sunshine was up ‘n awake.”

Great...you thought, so you had ruined their day. You’d have to deal with making up for that later once you got out of this place, but for now...wait, our sunshine?

...Okay, just ignore it (y/n), he did save your life after all so a little shameless endearment can’t hurt, right?

“I’m really sorry for taking up so much of your time. You don’t have to stay any longer, I’m sure you guys are pretty busy.” You had no reason not to send them away, feeling horrible for making the two think they had to look after you. In addition to that, you barely knew the men outside of what kind of flowers they liked, so the unfamiliar circumstances were a little unsettling.

You could hear Shouta sigh at your dismissive response, to which you thought he was relieved to finally be sent home.

“If we were concerned about wasting our time we would have left a long time ago. We’re here because we want to be, not because we have to.”

Strangely, that didn’t make you feel any better. “Still, I feel bad for keeping you…”

There was a brief silence in the room, and if you weren’t currently hanging your head in shame then maybe you would’ve seen the subtle but conspiring looks exchanged between the two men.

The blond was the first to break the silence, something he seemed to be good at. “Well...if you’re feelin’ that bad there’s certainly a way to repay us.”

Your head perked up at the proposition, anxiety settling due to not knowing exactly what this repayment could entail.

Thankfully, Hizashi didn’t seem to want to watch you squirm with anticipation. “Why don’t ya stop by our place once you get out of here. Shouta and I’d love the extra company.”

His counterpart continued after a moment. “We always end up making more food than we need for dinner, the accommodation for one night would be no trouble.”

Naturally, the prospect of being asked to spend more time with these men after you’d already been such a burden was unexpected. You’d think after all this time it would only be normal to send you on your way. Yet, here they were, continuing to leave you stunned at their actions over and over again.

If this is what it takes to appease them, then so be it. Surely you can handle having dinner with them, right?

The two waited patiently for your response. It took a second, but you managed to gather your thoughts for a comprehensive answer. “I suppose… although I don’t see how this helps me repay you in any way.”

“Nonsense, songbird. Shou’ wouldn’t admit to it, but he’s been a bit worried that you’re not takin’ care of yourself, with all the work ya do. Nothing a good meal can’t fix, ya dig?” Hizashi positively beamed at your acceptance to the request, making it hard to deny him. Especially since, although silently, Shouta wished to see this through as much as him based on the explanation.

You smiled, the reassuring atmosphere easing the tension in your body. “If that’s really what you want then I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

It looked as if the erasure hero was about to speak, but before he could, a knocking on the door stopped him.

Waiting a moment before entering, a nurse opened the door. “I would’ve appreciated it if you two informed me immediately when she woke up.” She reprimanded the two heroes for their irresponsibility before making her way to the unoccupied side of your bed.

“I need to discuss some matters with the patient, why don’t you head home for the night.” She regarded the two without looking in their direction, instead examining the IV bag and writing something down on a clipboard.

You gave them an apologetic look, clearly they wanted to talk a bit longer than they were being allowed.

Shouta stood from the armchair, gathering his jacket in his arms with Hizashi following suit.

“We’ll see ya later, ‘kay sweetheart?” It seemed the blond simply had a habit of dishing out loving nicknames, and at this point you were getting used to it.

The erasure hero continued, “Get some rest, one of us will check up on you tomorrow morning.”

You managed out a quiet “Okay,” and they were gone before the nurse could scold them for taking up more time.

Finally having the privacy she needed, the nurse regarded your current state. “Okay then, hun. Let’s see how you’re doing.”

_____

The next hour or two was filled with various exams and consultations. You were told exactly what you’d been expecting. Which was basically along the lines of blacking out due to exhaustion combined with hitting the pavement pretty hard. You didn’t bother to mention that the occurrence was most likely also slightly induced by the sudden panic attack, figuring that it wasn’t quite as important.

At the end of the day you were told that in light of the situation and your poor health, it was necessary that you’d have to remain in the hospital for another day at least. After that it was a matter of judging whether your condition had improved.

You were brought dinner, barely regarding the dull taste as your hungered state simply couldn’t care less. Frankly, the after effects of the prolonged fatigue were still causing you to feel intensely drowsy, and so the rest of the night happened in a blur.

The next thing you knew, you’d settled back down to into your bed, ready to accept another long slumber.

End of Part 2

_____

taglist: @tjhonoluluprezstitch626

#yandere bnha #yandere erasermic #yandere bnha x reader #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere mha #yandere mha x reader #yandere eraserhead #yandere eraserhead x reader #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere shouta aizawa x reader #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere hizashi yamada x reader #yandere present mic #yandere present mic x reader #yandere

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harlotofandraste · 4 years ago

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I did it, I finally quit psychiatry

(I wrote this for r/antipsychiatry, but I thought I might as well post it here too. don't read if you're easily triggered)

It's been a long journey through hell, but I've had enough. I'm not taking any more shit from incompetent, clueless doctors who think they know me better than I do myself. Who do not listen to me when I beg them to change the medication and instead just give me more of the stuff that is making me worse. I'll finally be free.

I doubt anyone cares, but I'll just tell you my story from the beginning. This is going to be a very long story. Basically, I became depressed at 14 or 15, I'm a 22 year old woman now. The reason was mainly that I couldn't handle the pressure from school. I am a very ambitious, perfectionist but also extremely lazy person. I was constantly beating myself up for not achieving what I wanted to achieve but also unable to fix my behavior. I did also have some slight, not even that serious trauma from a emotionally neglectful childhood and my parents telling me I was a failure every time I would get a grade that wasn't an A. At some point it all became too much and I started self-harming. Then I got worse and worse, self harming occasionally but severely, until I finally attempted suicide at 17.

I was locked into a youth psychiatry institution against my. will. I had my rights, my freedom taken away and was forced to take heavy medications. The very first evening I asked the psychiatrist at the hospital about the side effects of the medications, but he refused to tell me anything and instead just said I should trust his professional judgement. Unfortunately I was too tired and unwell to keep asking so I just accepted not knowing what would happen to me.

They gave me very high doses of Seroquel (Quetiapine), SSRIs and other stuff that I don't even know because they didn't even tell me the names of what they made me take. I just know the names of the medications I was supposed to continue to take after the hospital stay because they were in the papers they gave me. Then after a few days I begged the doctor to take me off the meds because I was so tired I could barely move. I had never felt worse in my life. she refused and instead upped my dose further.

I got worse and worse until I managed to get access to a razor blade I injured myself with on purpose. When my roommate told the nurses what I had done, I was forcefully, against my will restrained onto a bed. Yes, they actually tied me to a bed. And then pushed the bed into a small room where I was alone, and tied to the bed, unable to move. Of course I had a severe panic attack. The room had video surveillance, but it took them quite some time to notice that I was having a panic attack. they finally came and gave me something to breathe into and I calmed down more or less, but they didn't untie me. I later had to pee, and they didn't even untie me for that. I had to pee into a bedpan while tied to the bed, with a nurse watching me. it was incredibly humiliating. I was not untied the entire night. I was restrained until the next morning. When they finally untied me, I had quite seriously injured myself from fighting against the restraints. I had basically torn the skin off my ankles, the scars are faded now but they were visible for many years. It was quite painful. I do consider this incident of being restrained against my will psychiatric abuse, especially because I was restrained for so long. In total probably 10 hours, maybe even more.

Then the hospital didn't really know what to do with myself. I had of course lost any trust I had into the nurses and doctors and shut myself off from them. So they transferred me to a different institution, a more high-security one. Of course I wasn't asked if that was okay, I had to comply. I had began to form relationships with some of the girls, so being taken away from the small support system I had was very stresssful, especially considering how fragile I was at that time.

The other institution wasn't much different, but it was good for me to be taken away from the people who had abused me. I got a tiny bit better. I started to trust the nurses there a little bit. I got along with the other patients and over all liked the hospital better for maby reasons. And then they noticed I was a little better. And then they decided I was well enough to go back to the other hospital. Of course I wasn't asked this time either. But I had made more progress there in two weeks than in the other hospital in a month. I had again started building a little support system. But worst of all, I was forced to go back to the place where I had been abused, and at the time I was still very affected by the experience. I felt incredibly powerless and betrayed, but I didn't have a choice.

Then back at the first hospital I decided I would get better, for no other reason than to finally be able to leave that horrible place.

Then two things were getting severly uncomfortable. I was weighed every week and started noticing significant weight gain. At the same time, I was hungry all the time. painfully hungry, ravenous, even. I basically felt like I was starving all the time but still put on weight. Of course that was because of the high doses of Seroquel, but no one told me. I told nurses, doctors and therapists about the hunger and weight gain, but they simply didn't tell me that was a side effect, they told me an increased appetite was a sign i was getting better. I legit thought I was losing my mind.I have struggled with weight all my life and putting weight on like that made me feel horrible.

Then the doctor decided I was well enough to start taking up school work again. I begged him not to force me to, I told them the pressure of school was the reason I was sick in the first place. Of course no one listened to me. I was forced to do school work even if I knew it wasn't good for me. they didn't care.

Then, after three months of hell, I was finally released. And only because it was Christmas, and my parents refused to leave me there over Christmas. I got a therapist and medication for home.

Then after the Christmas holidays I, against my will, started going to school again. And after about two weeks, my new therapist told me that I had to choose between dropping out of school or going back to the hospital, because school was already making me severely suicidal again. And that was one of the few good things a mental health professional had said to me. I dropped out of school and actually started getting better for real. I sometimes forgot to take my medication, and every time I did, I instanty felt better. I suddenly didn't feel like a tired zombie anymore, I actually had emotions, I felt... alive. So I begged my psychiatrist to let me stop taking medications, and a few months after being released from the hospital, I was free of them.

And everything was great. I got a job, then I volunteered in New Zealand, then, when I was in a more stable place than at 17, I took up school again and graduated with flying colors. I was doing incredibly well.

And then I started university. The first semester went okay, but my mental health quickly started deteriorating. It was the academic pressure again. That's simply something I cannot handle. Soon I started self harming again, and it became more frequent than ever before. I also got into a bad, one might even say toxic, relationship. My girlfriend had issues on her own, but her behavior towards me was often extremely triggering and I very frequently self harmed because of something to do with our relationship. I do not want to blame her for my behavior, but she often made feel worthless, like I was not good enough for her. She would frequently cancel our dates at the last minute, and when she didn't, she would be half an hour late, and when we were together, she didn't make me feel very appreciated either. I was very much in love with her and always blamed myself for everything she did. She once even talked me into having sex with her, when I had said no repeatedly. She did not accept no for an answer and kept pushing until I slept with her to make her shut up. I felt like I didn't have a choice. She didn't force me to, but she simply did not accept my "no". Anyways, it was not her who took the knife to my skin, but she was a big factor in why I did it. I never told her she was a reason for my severe self harm, I didn't want her to feel bad. I didn't hide my wounds fro. her, I mean we did see each other naked and I always had at least four or five big bandages. We just kinda... ignored that.

So then I was getting desperate and decided to get professional help once again. I went to a free psychiatrist from the student councellors and she prescribed me Seroquel once again. I told her I didn't want to take it because it had made me gain a lot of weight and made me very tired. She laughed in my face and told me Seroquel doesn't do that. I don't know if she was just incompetent or lied to me on purpose, because these side effects are experienced by pretty much every single person who takes Seroquel, they are listed in the information leaflet, and I know many people who have taken this medication, all of them had them. During the appointment, she did not even ask me how I was feeling. She prescribed me 200 mg of Seroquel XR. Now, the recommended starting dosage is 50 mg. She prescribed me a starting dosage of four times the recommended amount. Unfortunately, I did not know that back then, I didn't expect a doctor to be that negligent. I took the first 200 mg pill that very evening before going to listen to a debate. Seroquel XR takes a while to kick in, but oh boy did it kick in. I didn't even notice the tiredness that much because I was having severe heart palpitations. My vision was going from normal to black and to normal again all the time. I was dizzy and desoriented and felt my heart was about to jump out of my chest, and sometimes it stopped beating for several seconds. I legit thought I might die in the audience of a debate on ethical farming.

Of course I didn't take the pills the next day and started looking for another psychiatrist. I got an appointment relatively quickly at a private one, it was relatively hopeless to get an appointment with one my insurance would pay, but I thought if she could help me, money wouldn't matter. She prescribed me some stuff that didn't do much harm but also didn't do much good. basically, i was a little tired but that was it. i got a therapist.

About 9 months passed, I had several psychiatrist appointments where I told her the meds didn't do much good, but she never really changed anything. She also insisted that I would get tested for Borderline personality disorder and the psychologist she told me to go to diagnosed me with it. My therapist at the time agreed with me that there was no way in hell that I have BPD, but she also said that when psychiatrists see an adult who self harms, BPD is the only thing that can explain that for them.

Then fall came and a new uni semester started. I had been alright over summer, I had broken up with my girlfriend, but of course with the start of the semester, everything came crashing down.

I lasted a month in university until i impulsively took the whole pack of Seroquel I still had laying around and went to the hospital telling them i was suicidal and also told them what i had done.

Now, I have to say that the nurses in this hospital were absolute angels. They treated my with respect, I almost felt mothered. I was given a lot of activated charcoal and basically had a good night in the hospital. I also got stitches for my freshest self harm injuries, but I had several ones that were too old to be treated that way.

The next morning I was transferred. Can you guess where to? The mental hospital i had been to as a teen. Again, I didn't have a choice.

But overall, the experience at the emergency ward was not as horrible as the first time. I was an adult now and actually treated like a human person. it says a lot about my first experience that I was very surprised by that.

I felt better rather quickly, mostly because the stress factory university was eliminated. The doctor there again insisted that I had BPD even when I said that was ridiculous. They evalued me again and the psychologist came to the conclusion that I had a borderline accentuation, basically borderline borderline.

The emergency ward doctor talked me into treatment at the psychotherapy ward, so I did that for 8 weeks. it was okay, again I was treated way better than as a teen. I was allowed to have an opinion about the medication, I was even allowed to read the little side effect pamphlets. But overall it didn't really do it, I self harmed less but I still self harmed.

During that stay I decided to drop out of university and start an apprenticeship as a baker. I found a company to work for, I loved work, then Corona happened. The company had to shut down. They laid me off after I had only worked there for three weeks. Basically I fell into a hole again, became a depressive husk again.

Then some time passes and a new therapist asked me why I didn't want to go to university anymore, she basically thought i was too intelligent not to. I told her how I could never focus, how I struggled with procrastination, how I couldn't handle the pressure and she recommended that I get assessed for ADHD. Now, I had suspended I had ADHD for years, but I didn't want to bring it up myself. I didn't want to seem like hypochondriac, or an attention whore, and after all, I had told so many people about my struggles and they never suspended ADHD. But I was relieved she brought it up and I had an "excuse" to get assessed. I was professionally diagnosed with ADHD soon after and happily went to my psychiatrist with my brand new diagnosis, I was full of hope that I would finally be "fixed". She basically told me she couldn't help me because she didn't know a lot about adhd. She prescribed me a very low dosage of Strattera (10 mg) and recommend me a specialist. I called the specialist, but they told me they couldn't give me an appointment and I should call in a few months, maybe it would be possible then.

It was july, and over the course of summer I decided I would try university again. Maybe if I was medicated for ADHD, I would actually be able to study. In fall of 2020, I started a brand new program, something very different from what I had done before.

I realized pretty quickly that the Strattera wasn't helping so I found a private ADHD specialist. I was extremely excited for the appointment. Again I thought "I only have to get through these few weeks, then I will finally get proper treatment" I didn't get proper treatment. He prescribed me more Strattera, which didn't help. The next appointment was a month after the first and again, I was excited. I was sure thia time he would fix me. I was sure after that appointment I wouldn't have to suffer anymore. But again, despite me saying I wanted to try something different, and that Strattera was not helping at all, he prescribed more Strattera.

Then university was getting really stressful, I had exams before Christmas, I was frustrated about him not listening to me. I started having suicidal thoughts again, I even relapsed with self harm, it had been months since the last time. But I more or less got through it in a piece, I even passed the exams (surprisingly), and was again looking forward to the next psychiatrist appointment after the Christmas vacation.

Strattera wasn't doing nothing, but it was not doing anything helpful. Basically, it made me feel quite relaxed, chill, less stressed. Which sounds good at first. But in order to get anything done, I rely on negative motivation. Basically, if I'm not panicking over possibly failing an exam, I'm just simply not going to study. So Strattera took the tiny bit of self-discipline and motivation that I had away and replaced it with a "idgaf"-attitude.Of course I told the psychiatrist. But can you guess what he did? Bingo, he upped the Strattera dosage. Again.

Then I had a second appointment with a new therapist, an ADHD specialist for adults. I told her how he did not care what I told him about Strattera and she was extremely upset and said that I can't let myself be treated like that. I needed to call him immediately and yell at him until he does something actually useful. I was baffled. I am not a confrontational person at all and I had never even considered actually arguing with a doctor. Yes I know, it sounds stupid in hindsight, but even after all that I had experienced, I still naively thought the professionals know best.

Okay so I called him. unsuccessful. I texted him. he ignored me. He had ignored my texts telling him that I was actually worse even before that last appointment, even though he told me to contact him with any concerns, and said that he prefered texts best, I thought he was maybe busy or something and didn't think much of it, but then he was ignoring my calls and texts. I was basically ghosted by a s

psychiatrist.

Okay I thought, then I'll simply go to someone else. To my suprise I got an appointment really quickly. I knew this wasn't a good sign, because good psychiatrists, if there even are any, don't have appointments free that soon.

But still, I had hope. And was of course disappointed again. I went to her with a professional ADHD diagnosis, but for her, that wasn't good enough. She had the audacity to tell me I needed another diagnosis from her psychologist friend who, by the way, has his office in a town over an hour away. She refused to treat me at all until I got that second diagnosis. Now,. I went to her out of pure desperation, out of knowing I simply could not go on like this any longer. Because I needed treatment quickly. And she told me she wouldn't give me that. I couldn't keep a few tears from escaping my eyea, she noticed and said very condescendingly "you don't have to cry, that's normal procedure". I tried my best to fight the tears, but as soon as I left her office, I started bawling my eyes out in the middle of town

And then I knew I was done. I had tried and tried again to get help, and I had not gotten it, I had not been listened to. Something in me snapped right in front of that office building.

I went home and threw my medication in the trash. Sure, it's bad to quit cold turkey like that, but honestly I don't care. I'm done. I'm done with psychiatry, I'm done with doctors. I have had the patience of a saint, but enough is enough. That was yesterday. And today I flipped a coin, twice, once for the psychiatrist and once for the new therapist. It told me to quit both of them, so I did.

I'm done with the mental health industrial complex. It has not helped me in all those years. I have only been sedated. Fuck psychiatry, fuck psychiatrists. Maybe I am simply meant to be miserable. I'll probably drop out of uni again, I thought I would be able to do it with treatment, but I did not get treatment, and I simply cannot do it this way. I've already attempted suicide because of academic pressure twice. Maybe I'll just have to live a miserable life working a low-paying job until I'm sad enough to finally actually kill myself. I'll probably always be a wreck, but at least I won't be a sedated wreck any longer. I'll be free, until I will be free for real.

Thank you for reading all this. I know it was a lot, but I needed to get it off my chest. Thank you.

#anti psychiatry #anti psych #antipsych #mental health industrial complex #long post #tw #cw

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emsartwork · 5 years ago

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Important World of Winx arc characters! Bella Tinker (Tinkerbell), Wendy Darling, Jim, Tiger Lily, and “Matt” who is now Peter Pan-Tinker-Darling

So, run down of the wow arc; Wizards of the Black Circle sent Island of Neverland into a weird magical pocket dimension, Wendy pulls Peter out = both suffer memory/magic loss, Neverland starts to fall apart and mutate, Bella Tinker begins pulling in people’s consciousnesses to replenish the magic on Neverland, Jim gains power among the other denizens on the Island wants to take over, Winx eventually come and fix things. See more in my timeline/show changes info post.

Neverland is an island near Tir Nan Og. Both Islands have natural sources that are a little similar, Tir Nan Og is the source of tears and sleep (deals with restorative magic and spells related to sadness, it takes the form of a freshwater spring) and Neverland is source of Dreams (deals with unconscious magic and vaguely nocturnal magic, takes the form of a large tree), and because of this they are considered sister islands. Tir Nan Og is the seat of power on earth because of its history, and Neverland is usually the right hand/second in command position because of its proximity. When the wizards attacked they intended to completely vanish/destroy the island and it’s inhabitants as a show of force but their spell interacted with Bella and the source’s magic creating an unstable pocket dimension. The instability begins to effect individual’s core magic, twisting their magic and pulling it out of them in physical manifestations that usually take the form raised veins and eventually horns. The placement of the horns can have other consequences but its very unpredictable.

Bella Tinker (aka Tinker Bell) tied her magic to the source on Neverland, becoming the Major Fairy of Dreams. Bella should technically be dead at this point. The pocket dimension Neverland is trapped in is sustained by Bella herself, if she wasn’t a Danix fairy she would have been drained a while back. Even with the source supporting her she experiences chronic core fatigue and the mutations on Neverland start to seriously affect her mind. When the horns first started appearing on herself and other inhabitants she began seeking outside magical power in order to help. Unfortunately, the wall between Neverland and the larger dimension was still too think for physical transportation, leading Bella to steal people’s minds/consciousness, trapping them as spirits in Neverland, and using their potential magical power to try and alleviate some of the mutations and heal the source. The Neverlander’s start to take sides as Bella looses more and more of her mental acuity and Jim gains power. also: she does NOT change color schemes after Neverland is restored because black/brunette does NOT equal evil and white/blonde does NOT equal good.

Wendy Darling, Bella Tinker’s wife and Peter’s mother. originally a non-magic user, Wendy pushed her untrained magic into the pocket dimension as it was forming and managed to grab Peter and pull him out. While she escaped being trapped in Neverland, her punch into the pocket dimension still gives her side effects of the mutated magic. She has slowly deteriorating memory/mental acuity, and physical injuries, but its not to the level that she has any horns. Wendy learns some magic on the fly, but has no proper training meaning she forces most spells and they are fairly unstable. Wendy managed to keep most of her mind and magic until Peter woke up from his coma, but after which she started to spiral and eventually became a very paranoid hermit with very little memory of who she was.

James ‘Jim’ Hook, resident of Neverland, lost his hand in an accident on his fishing boat. Begins to take on a more pirate role after Neverland is isolated, seizing the instability as an opportunity to gain power/wealth. Decent magic user, but keeps it hidden as a trump card he can play if necessary. After Bella retreats to the source in the second season Jim begins to aim for total dominion over Neverland and wants the winx to take Bella out but leave Neverland isolated. His horns are primarily harmless, the larger one is actually useful, and the ones starting on his right hand only cause some stiffness in the knuckles but the ones starting on his face are slowly starting to affect his right eye and brain. The mental influences aren’t severe enough yet for him to notice, but his empathy and impulse control are starting to suffer.

Tiger Lily, while not born on the American continent, is the daughter of the first Major Fairy of Dreams, a woman from the the Ojibwe, Ojibwa, Chippewa, or Saulteaux Nation (part of Dana’s OG crew of major fairies). Tiger Lily is a trained Psychic, but due to the situation on Neverland she has lost a lot of her cards, and has kind of morphed into a Druid in order to deal with the volatile environment. The mutation of magic has caused her to lose her vision, which is incredibly important to a Psychic Witch. To cope she started making Spider Web Charms/Dream Catchers (which.... actually have no specific connection to dreams? they’re good luck charms that ward off evil?? I think??? pls correct me if not). She uses these charms as a comfort, and eventually as a way to direct her magic and “see” via scrying with her hands over the webs. She has a ton set up around her home, to both ward off danger and act as security camera. The web and gem on her staff are mainly for offensive magic and directional. She also ties two into her hair to act as personal “eyes” but because scrying is looking into the possible future, what she “sees” isn’t always reality. Tiger Lily is a neutral party on the Island, not aligning herself with Bella or Jim and offers healing and sanctuary to those who come to her unarmed.

Peter Tinker-Darling(taking the place of Matt lmao), the oldest of his brothers, Peter has no memory of Neverland as they fragmented when Wendy pulled him out of the pocket dimension. She stored the fractured memories in Peter’s childhood compass. He was in a coma for decades after being pulled out and awoke in the 1500′s. Peter has no visible physical injuries (small scar on forehead) from being pulled out, but deals with spotty memory, dizzy spells, and massive migraines. Peter thinks Wendy abandoned him (he’s kind of right but Wendy was....... not doing well). Peter has magic, but can’t access it well with out his memories. Peter is less “annoying entitled prick is the chosen one and obnoxious about it” the way OG Matt is, and more “depressed confused art student has no idea whats going on and just wants his family back.”

After Neverland is restored, some of the mutations can be and are healed, but a lot of them are permanent or require routine treatment. The island itself returns to the normal dimension, but the source is corrupted by Jim and turns into a wild magic source to recover, severing it’s connection with Bella(who’s pretty burnt out on magic anyways and is fine with that). Bella and Wendy retire to the english countryside with the rest of their sons and try to deal with all their trauma as best they can :) Peter visits from Paris whenever he can.

#winx #winx club #world of winix #winx tinkerbell #winx wendy #winx jim #winx tiger lily #winx matt #winx peter pan #winxems #winx wow #wow #danix #psychix #druid #redesign #Character Design #digital #digital art

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itsy-bitsy-spider-fan · 5 years ago

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Hold On to Me (I’m A Little Unsteady)

By @itsy-bitsy-spider-fan for @imgoingtocrash

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Morgan Stark, Happy Hogan, May Parker.

AO3 Link

Summary:

“Can we just not do this right now?” Peter asked tiredly, glancing at Tony.

There was a beat of silence, and unexpected anger was rising in both of them. Tony because he was tired of seeing Peter deteriorate, and Peter because… well Peter didn’t really know. But he didn’t want to breach this right now. He didn’t want Tony to push him into saying something he shouldn’t. He felt like he was standing at a precipice high above an abyss, and he could either step back and give in to Tony by telling him everything that was going on --- everything Peter was feeling --- or he could stay in place and let the ledge crumble beneath him.

After the reversal of the Snap, Peter isn't doing as okay as he pretends he is. Luckily, he has a certain mentor in his corner to help him through it.

Peter knew what was happening to him, but he couldn’t stop it.

***

Hold On To Me (I’m a Little Unsteady)

The Blip had drudged up everything: every fragment of trauma he’d experienced, every bad thing that had ever happened to him (and it was a whole laundry list at that point), every loss he’d faced. He saw it every night.

Peter could count on one hand the amount of sleep (hours) that he’d gotten in the past two weeks. Getting through the day was agonizing, but at night, when he was alone and suffocated by thoughts he’d tricked himself into thinking were behind him, it was worse.

It wasn’t like Peter wanted to stay awake. Needing sleep was the only comprehensible thought that Peter managed nowadays. But the tradeoff wasn’t worth it. Seeing his uncle fall back, a gunshot piercing his brain and jolting him awake and upright wasn’t worth it. A building crumbling, collapsing, crushing him while he screamed for help wasn’t worth it.

Reliving the experience of fading to dust wasn’t worth it.

So he stopped. Stopped trying to sleep and started trying to crash. Peter waited until the exhaustion was too much for his body to physically handle and he crashed, too worn out for his mind to conjure up anything that might jerk him awake with a scream lodged in his throat and knives lodged in his lungs.

His mistake wasn’t staying awake.

It was thinking that pushing himself to the brink wouldn’t catch up with him.

Peter leaned his head against the window of Happy’s black SUV --- a new one, a different one than he’d ridden in five years ago --- lightheaded from the energy drink he’d chugged five minutes before getting in the car. His overnight bag was carelessly tossed onto the seat beside him.

Though his body seemed to buzz with energy, Peter could tell that it wasn’t real. He had maybe a half hour before that buzzing feeling was replaced with tiredness, and he’d be back to dragging himself through the day and pasting on smiles so that nobody would notice that he wasn’t as okay as he tried to be.

Or maybe he’d get lucky, and the energy drink would mimic the natural flurry of excitement that, according to Tony, Peter used to light up rooms with. It was just another he hadn’t quite managed to get back from before the Snap.

Sometimes, Peter thought that some parts of him were still on Titan. That not all of him had been put back together after Tony had reversed Thanos’ actions. As for Tony… seeing him helped as much as it hurt.

It was hard to see past the red and gold prosthetic arm. It was as much as a symbol that Tony was okay as it was a symbol that Peter hadn’t been good enough during the fight. His train of thoughts tended to be pretty depressing whenever he visited the lakehouse. “What ifs” were his weakness. What if he had been faster? What if he had stopped Quill? What if he’d been better, like Tony wanted?

And when he thought of the final battle: What if I had gotten there first?

The Iron Spider was similar to the suit Tony had worn. It could have formed the gauntlet. Peter could have snapped. Could have taken the hit of the ancient magic. Peter could’ve walked away from it. Right?

In the month that Tony had spent recovering and in a coma, Peter had stayed at the man’s bedside --- well. He'd stayed in a chair in the corner of the same room. He couldn’t bear to infringe on the space that belonged to Pepper, and Rhodey, and Happy, and --- and Morgan.

He never voiced his internal anguish, never talked about the dreams he had where he had taken the stones, and he had ended it all. Instead, he distracted himself by borrowing a tablet from a certain genius Wakandan princess and started fleshing out a design for a prosthetic arm. At first, it was nothing more than a means for peace, a cathartic activity. Then Tony, not long after waking, had seen it, and Shuri had built it, and Peter decided that he needed to do more. “Fixing” Tony’s arm was not enough.

He had to go back. Back to the Peter that May wanted, that she used to know, that Peter had been before. Peter thought that if May didn’t spend so much time deluding herself that Peter had come back in one piece, it wouldn’t be so easy to pretend she had.

That’s why Peter was on his way to the lakehouse. He liked it there, liked it more. And it wasn’t just because being at the lake was less stifling that being in the city. It was because Tony understood better than anyone the way that Peter felt, even if Peter never outright said anything. Tony pressed offhandedly, but when Peter shrugged him off, Tony gave him space. Enough to let him breathe without completely detaching himself from Peter.

“Kid?”

Happy’s voice was edged with concern and when Peter blinked, they weren’t moving anymore. The lakehouse stood in front of him, and trees made up the horizon around them. On the front porch, Peter spotted Tony immediately, and Pepper beside him. Little Morgan peeked out from behind them, dark eyes narrowed. She was still in the process of warming up to Peter (though Tony had assured him that it was a given.)

“Sorry, Hap,” Peter mumbled, popping open the door and swinging his bag over his shoulder. “See you Sunday.”

“Two o'clock on the dot,” Happy agreed.

Peter walked up to the house, and a small burst of warmth managed to loosen the tightness in his chest. Tony and Pepper both greeted Peter with a smile. Morgan was still watching him with curiosity. He probably needed to spend more time with her if he could manage.

“I’m making carbonara for dinner,” Tony told him, slinging an arm over Peter’s shoulder as they walked inside.

Peter shot a startled look at Pepper without thinking. The last time Tony had cooked for Peter --- BT (Before Thanos) --- they’d become distracted and the lasagna that Tony swore he could make in his sleep turned out worse than the store bought ones May liked to (try to) cook on Thursdays.

Pepper caught his look and laughed, “Don’t worry. He’s gotten much better.”

Tony made an offended noise, but Peter was already slipping back into his thoughts while they bickered, tripped up on how easily the joke had come. He headed upstairs to deposit his bag in the guest room and wondered if maybe this weekend would end up going fine. That he ’d be fine.

He should have known better. He didn’t even make it through the day.

Things went fine until dinner. The buzz of the energy drink predictably disappeared after an hour, though Peter was still clinging onto the hope that nothing would go wrong. But then Tony had pressed him after dinner, questioned how he’d been doing, how things with May and Happy were going, if he’d talked to May, if he was okay.

“Tony,” Pepper said quietly, when she noticed the way that Peter had gone tense, stifled anger warming his face.

Tony shot her a glance in acknowledgement, but his face was set and determined. “I just want to know how he’s doing, Pep.”

Peter wondered why just that much was leading him to irritation. “And I told you I’m doing fine, Mister St-- uh, Tony.”

“Mr. Tony?” Tony repeated, and Peter rolled his eyes, stabbing at his carbonara with his fork. “That’s new.”

“Can we just not do this right now?” Peter asked tiredly, glancing at Tony.

There was a beat of silence, and unexpected anger was rising in both of them. Tony because he was tired of seeing Peter deteriorate, and Peter because… well Peter didn’t really know. But he didn’t want to breach this right now. He didn’t want Tony to push him into saying something he shouldn’t. He felt like he was standing at a precipice high above an abyss, and he could either step back and give in to what Tony wanted by telling him everything that was going on --- everything that Peter was feeling --- or he could stay in place and let the ledge crumble beneath him.

“No,” Tony decided after a beat, stubbornness etched onto his face. Clearly, he’d been planning this ambush for a while. “Peter, just talk to me, kid.” He hesitated. “Or even if not me, then talk to May---”

“What do you want me to say, Tony?” Peter cut in, setting his fork down forcefully. He was breathing hard. Part of him wanted to know the answer to his rhetorical question.

“At this point? Anything. Tell me what’s wrong---”

“Just lay off me,” Peter half-yelled instead.

They both snapped their mouths shut when Morgan jumped, eyes wide and looking at both of them.

Peter grew angrier, but he was unwilling to admit that most of that anger was at himself. For not putting up as good of an act as he thought he was, for scaring Morgan, for yelling at Tony.

“Kid, calm down---”

“Or what?” Peter spat. “You’re going to take my suit? Ground me?” Tony’s face twisted with indignation and Peter stood, knocking his chair down in the process.

He stood up too fast though. The floor lurched under his feet, swinging back and forth like a pendulum, and black spots danced across his vision. Tony’s anger melted to concern and he reached forward but Peter batted his hand away and gripped the table instead. Unwilling to prove Tony’s point that Peter was very much not okay, he kept going.

“Well, newsflash, Tony. You don’t get to do that anymore. You never did.”

“Is that what you think?” Tony challenged, sufficiently distracted again.

“Yeah,” Peter answered, breathing heavily.

He hadn’t noticed Pepper take Morgan out of the room, but at some point, she had. It was just Tony and Peter, staring each other down.

“Sit down, Peter,” Tony said harshly. “I just want to talk.”

“ Why ?” Peter breathed, angry and disbelieving, both at once. “Why can’t you just let it go?”

“Because---” Tony stopped, pursing his lips. “It doesn’t matter. I know you’re hurting---”

Peter scoffed bitterly. “Of course that’s what you say. You think you know everything, but you don’t. And I’m not some math equation that you can just solve because you’re bored. So quit pretending to be a father and leave. Me. Alone. ”

It was a low blow, and Peter knew it. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care, or even stop to see the shock and hurt play across Tony’s face. Instead, he turned and stomped upstairs, heart beating rapidly. Blood rushed in his ears, almost drowning out the sound of Pepper and Tony talking downstairs --- apparently she hadn’t gone far.

Peter swept over to his bag and furiously began unzipping it. At the bottom, exactly where he’d left them, were his webshooters and his suit. Peter was clipping his webshooters onto his wrists when he heard footsteps and a small voice behind him. He turned, freezing at the suit of Morgan hovering in the doorway, looking unsure.

“Peter?” she asked quietly. “What are you doin’?”

Peter unfroze, shaking his head. “I’m leaving. I’ll--- I’ll see you later.”

He headed over to the window, opening it. Without looking away from the ground fifteen feet below, he heard Morgan take a few cautious steps into the room. Peter sighed. Anger still raged through his veins, but he knew better than to take it out on a kid, especially Morgan.

“But why?” she questioned. “We didn’t even have dessert yet.”

“I know,” Peter said quickly, deciding to only put his mask on, leaving his suit in a twisted heap on the bed. “It’s fine.”

He was halfway out the window, one leg hooked over the sill, when Morgan whispered, “Bye.”

Peter felt regret clench in his chest. He knew he shouldn’t be leaving. It was just a dumb fight, and really, it was Peter’s fault. Most of the anger that he’d taken out on Tony was derived from anger he had for himself.

But he wanted to act out. Wanted to be angry instead of face the exhaustion that never left him, or the fear that made it hard to breathe all the time. Or even the nightmares that, no matter what he did, never went away. His hands were shaking, he realized.

Peter leapt from the sill and landed on the damp earth without error. He glanced back when he paused for a deep breath. Morgan was standing at the window, leaning out and looking at him. Wind whipped her hair around her face.

Peter broke his gaze away and took off through the trees.

The knowledge that May and Happy were on a date night was what compelled him to stop by the apartment and put on his suit. He’d received too many shouted, “Who are you?”s from New Yorkers who recognized Spider-Man’s brand but were probably shocked to see him after a five and a half year break.

It only took an hour of patrolling for the regret to really set in. Tony had only tried to call him once, and Peter had ignored him.

Before the Blip, Tony would have called again and pushed it through. But that's not what he did. He just left Peter to his own devices, even though Peter was starting to realize that's not what he wanted.

Normality. That's what he wanted. He wanted it back. Bad. That seemed to be the root of his problems. He wanted things to go back to normal. Where having a conversation with May wasn't painful. When Peter could tell Tony anything. When waking up from breath-stealing nightmares wasn't an everyday occurrence.

Peter perched on the top of a building and let out a deep breath. He'd have to apologize. At least for the last part, because Tony had confessed to him more than once how much his own father had made him wary of his ability to be one. And Peter had thrown that in his face.

Peter stood, stretched, and started thinking about what he'd say.

I'm sorry.

The obvious starter but not enough.

I'm drowning. He could tell Tony everything. And Tony would help him tell May but May… would be so disappointed. Wouldn't she?

I didn't mean it.

Back to Tony, because Tony was the one that Peter had thrown cruel words at like knives.

A shrill scream and a grunt pierced through Peter's thoughts, and he snapped back into reality.

Looking down on the street revealed a woman being pulled into an alleyway by a hooded man.

One more save, Peter decided. Then to the lake house.

Looking back on the moment that he leapt from the building, he wondered: was he stupid for thinking that anything could go right? That it would? Or was he just too tired to realize that something was off about the alleyway attack he was about to interrupt?

The woman was nowhere to be found when he swung to the ground, but the hooded man was standing with his back to Peter.

"I knew you'd come," came the low, gravelly voice of the man. "Spider-Man always does."

Peter swallowed uncomfortably, feeling the familiar spider sense of his crawl up his neck. "Where did she go?"

Finally the man turned, a cruel, taunting smile pulling at his thin lips. "Pity. They told me you were smarter than this."

"Smarter than---"

Crack!

A baseball bat slamming into the back of his head. Pain shooting through his skull, white hot and breathtaking. Vision shuddering and warping.

Peter stumbled onto his knees, blindly firing a web behind him, but the newcomers had the upper hand, would have had it even if he hadn't have spectacularly missed like he did.

Panic streaked through him when he felt arms grabbing him, pulling him, dragging him backwards over cracked and dirty asphalt.

One clear thought filtered through his mind. Tony.

"Karen," he croaked, only for his hopes to be shot when hands fisted the back of his mask, pulled it off. "N-no---"

Another brain-rattling blow to the back of his head and Peter's thrashing and twisting lessened. His fights were almost completely dulled when two needles slid into his neck: either darts or syringes but both containing some kind of concoction that made his stomach flip and his limbs feel heavy.

The people who had him stopped dragging him and hefted him in the air, carrying him to the mouth of the alleyway, where the shadow met the street.

They were approaching a running vehicle, Peter realized, and his thoughts melted together. They were taking him oh God and he'd been so stupid, hadn't told anywhere where he was and he needed to tell Tony sorry, to tell May sorry that he didn't fight hard enough to get away ---

A loud bang reverberated through the alley, so intense that it drew a strangled gasp from Peter's mouth. A blast of heat washed over his body, too confusing for his muddled thoughts to comprehend. Then the arms digging into him were pulling away and he was falling.

He slammed into the concrete on his back, mere feet away from the awaiting van. Peter groaned and rolled onto his side, gripping his head as another wave of pain slashed through it, coupled with more bang s that made him grip his ears in agony.

He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw and swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat, and just when he was at the brink, when his vision was starting to dim --- pain and overstimulation to his senses dragging him into an abyss --- all became quiet.

"Peter," someone breathed, voice shaking and scared but familiar. "Pete. Kid. Open your eyes for me."

Peter didn't want to. Didn't want to open his eyes and realize he was dreaming this up because Tony was mad at him, Tony wouldn't be here, but---

There he was, when Peter hazily cracked open his eyes. Crouching in front of Peter in the suit, though the faceplate was retracted. Concern was etched in every line of his face.

"Tony," Peter croaked, overwhelmed with regret and fear but also relief.

The pain was still there, too. Pulsing through his skull like a thick, hot fire poker being stabbed into his head over and over again.

"I'm right here, kid," Tony said. "I'm going to get…"

Tony didn't trail off. Rather, Peter found safety in his voice, his presence, and the tension seeped out of his body --- as did every ounce of consciousness that he'd been hanging on to.

When he woke up in the hospital room, he'd thought he'd be alone. He remembered pretty quickly what had happened, and the guilt still clung to him like wet clothes. He'd be disappointed, but not surprised, if the chairs surrounding his bed were empty.

Somehow, they weren't.

May was the first one he saw, and his chest tightened. She didn't see him stir, and neither did Happy. Tony, asleep in a chair on Peter's other side, didn't stir yet either.

It wasn't until Peter sat up --- and regretted the motion instantly since it made his head hurt like no other, drawing a shaky gasp from his lips --- did May look up. Her eyes filled with tears when she saw Peter struggling to move his pillows to support an upright position.

"May," Peter said, voice gravelly from disuse.

It was then, at the hoarse sound of Peter's voice, that Tony jerked awake, eyes flickering around the room before landing on Peter. Almost comically, Happy remained asleep.

"Kid," Tony said, moving forward like he wanted to reach Peter's hand.

May moved at the same time, and Tony jerked back, glancing at May like she might yell at him.

May paused, glancing from Tony to Peter before staying on Tony. "Don't fool yourself, Tony. He's your kid, too."

Tony looked at her, then nodded. When May looked away, Peter saw relief cross Tony's face, and he tentatively reached forward to grab Peter's other hand, waiting for Peter's nod of approval before actually grabbing it.

"I'm so sorry," Peter whispered. "To both of you. For fighting with you, Tony, and for not calling you May and---"

"We can talk about that later," Tony said, and May nodded in agreement, chewing her lip nervously.

Peter wanted to protest, wanted to apologize until it was drilled in their head how sorry he was, but a man in scrubs stepped into the room, and his attention was torn away. He glanced at Tony panickedly. This wasn't the same, confidential doctor that Peter had grown used to before the Blip.

"He knows you're enhanced," Tony said, squeezing Peter's hand. "And he's trustworthy. He specializes in enhanced people."

Peter glanced back at the man, who stepped forward with a kind smile. "That's right. I'm Doctor Weber. Do you know your name?"

Peter nodded slowly. "Peter Parker, sir."

Weber smiled again. Peter figured if the man was dangerous, his Spider Sense would have let him know already.

He didn't think about how unreliable it had been when he was sustaining the very injury he was in the Medbay for.

"The sedative your assailants used has already been metabolized," Weber began as he fiddled around with the nearby machines and screens. "There should be no lasting effects, but I am more worried about the fractured skull."

Peter winced, resisting the urge to prod the back of his head.

"I have a few precautionary questions…"

Peter answered Weber's questions correctly and was given another dosage of souped-up pain meds. He tried not to let his heavy eyes fall closed, but before he knew it, they were slipping shut… and his body was heavy and he was tired…

But he had to know who had done this to him in the first place. He managed to force his eyes open and glanced at Tony, who would probably start with the truth instead of trying to censor it to protect him like May would.

"Who did this?" he managed.

Tony's eyes went dark with a familiar anger, the one he saved for whenever someone targeted Peter and landed Peter in the Medbay. "Natasha's working on it as we speak, but so far, we think they may have been a splinter group from Hydra."

Peter nodded drowsily. "I am… safe?"

His tongue felt like it was made of rubber.

"You're safe, kid," Tony affirmed as May squeezed Peter's hand.

"Sleep, Peter," May instructed softly. "We'll be here when you wake up."

That turned out to be a lie, because the next time Peter opened his eyes, it was just him and Tony. Tony had a tablet in his lap and was video-calling someone.

Peter stayed quiet, not wanting to intrude, but Tony noticed him anyways. The soft grin on his face dropped and was replaced with stone.

"I'll be up later, Pep," Tony said, not looking away from Peter, who instantly felt worse for pulling Tony away from his conversation with his family. "Bye."

"Where's May?" Peter asked quietly.

Tony set his tablet down on the empty chair next to him. "She went upstairs with Happy. Said it was to shower but I think she knew that your meds were wearing off and wanted to give us a chance to talk." Tony paused. "A great woman, your aunt is."

Peter nodded, but there was a lump in his throat that kept him from speaking. Peter didn’t know if it was a big fat ball of regret or just plain emotion. Tony looked at him and sighed.

"I'm not mad, Peter."

Peter looked down at his lap. “You should be.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I was,” Tony said, and even though his voice was light, it sounded strained. “But then Weber showed me your charts, and Friday ran some scans. They estimate that when I brought you in, you hadn’t slept for thirty-two hours, Peter.”

When Peter said nothing, Tony said, “Did you know that skipping on sleep for so long causes moodiness and irritability?” It was a question with an answer that Tony didn’t want an answer for. “Now, there’s a lot of fun side effects to sleep deprivation --- hell, I’ve been there more times than I can count --- but I think those two matter the most in this situation.” He eyed Peter scrutinizingly. “What do you think?”

Peter swallowed. “That I’m an idiot.” Peter paused. “And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be---”

“ Not just for our--- our fight,” Peter said urgently, needing to get the weight off of his chest that it had been crushing his lungs and ribs for weeks. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Tony was clearly unwilling to push on that, probably after what happened last time, but Tony didn’t need to. The truth was already spilling out: a dam that should have come down a long time ago.

“I’ve been having nightmares,” Peter confessed, unable to meet Tony’s eyes. “Bad ones. And I’m… I’ve been too scared to sleep because every time I close my eyes I see you, dying. Or Thanos snapping, or my uncle, or--- just. Everything, Tony.”

Tony’s face was masked off, but his words were soft. “You should have told me, kid. You should’ve came to me sooner---”

“I know, ” Peter breathed, and when he looked back at Tony, his eyes were shiny with tears. “But I didn’t want to bother you when you were still..” He waved his hand vaguely towards Tony’s prosthetic arm, which was mostly covered by the gray hoodie that the man wore. “And I was scared that you would think, I don’t know, less of me? That I couldn’t be part of the team and I couldn’t lose Spider-Man even if I haven't been him for a while because that’s all I had left from the old me---”

Tony’s mind was spinning like lottery slots, probably because he was processing Peter’s ramblings at light speed. He clearly didn’t know where to start, but his voice was firm and insistent when he reached out, gripped Peter’s shaking hand and said, “Kid, there is no old you, okay? You’re still Peter Parker, you’re still my kid, and having nightmares or trauma doesn’t make you weak or take that away from you.”

Peter sniffed, ready to say something, but Tony wasn’t done. “Trauma isn’t something you can just push away and get over. Not when you’re dealing with things like Thanos or any villain you’ve faced as Spider-Man for that matter. Fighting people, putting them away, seeing death: it follows you home. It sucks. And I say that as the posterboy of PTSD.”

Peter wiped his eyes, disbelief shining in them. Tony had never opened up about that kind of stuff before, though Peter had pressed after Homecoming whenever he spent the night at the Compound.

“We’ve both gone through some shit,” Tony said. “It’s not ideal, but it’s part of the job. An occupational hazard, if you will. We might as well make that a prerequisite for joining the Avengers.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Peter joked with a watery laugh.

“I’m trying to say,” Tony continued, “that we’re here to help. All of us, but especially me. Right now. I’m going to do whatever it takes to put a smile back on your face, okay?”

Peter studied his face, and after a beat, nodded. “Okay.” He looked down, toying with the blanket in his lap. “Will you help me talk to May?”

Tony stood, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Peter thought that he was leaving. But instead, he gently nudged Peter’s leg out of the way, and Peter scooted over to the side of the bed to make room for Tony to lay down. Peter couldn’t help but smile when Tony crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, like they were sunning on a towel on the beach and not squished together in a hospital bed in the Medbay.

“Like I said,” Tony answered, “Whatever it takes.”

Peter nodded, which quickly turned to him yawning. The conversation --- plus the fractured skull --- had worn him out. Exhaustion, but a different kind, was already dragging him into sleep.

But even with his eyelids drooping and bodily tension disappearing, he still heard Tony murmur, “I invented time travel for you, kid. I’m not giving up on you now.”

#friendly neighborhood exhange #irondad #peter parker #tony stark

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iliveinprocrasti-nation · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! Wanna share your research on cannibalism? I literally know nothing on the subject. So if you have time, I’d love to learn more.

hi!!! i absolutely do want to share my research because this has been fascinating me for days. this is also likely not edited and just comes from my brain, so if something is confusing/incomprehensible/incorrect please tell me and i’ll do my best to fix it

to anyone who might see this: please don’t hesitate to tell me if you want a tag or another trigger warning on this post or the other (although i might end up making a blog for this type of stuff? my friends can only hear so much about epidemiology and cannibalism science and all that so tell me what you think about me making a sideblog for my interests). trigger warning for cannibalism, death, sickness, ulcers, necrosis, pus

The biggest issue with cannibalism come in the form of prions. Prions are made of a protein called PrP, which is found in perfectly healthy people. PrP^C is the normal protein that’s found in cell membranes (we don’t really know what PrP does, but it might have to do with the brain’s cell to cell communication). The infectious form of PrP is PrP^Sc (called a prion). Prions happen when PrP proteins fold over themselves, which messes up how the proteins connect to each other. Usually, your body will use enzymes to break down proteins, which would fix this problem, but prions are very much resistant to them. Prions also don’t have nucleic acid (DNA/RNA). Prion diseases can be hereditary, infectious, or sporadic (so they can run in the family, or you can contract them, or your PrP just decides one day to fold itself into a prion).

Cannibalism has to do more with the infectious prions. Prions, once they happen, start affecting other proteins like some really messed up game of group tag, causing them to fold and become prions as well, causing clumps of misfolded proteins in your brain (remember how I said they might have to do with brain communication? what we do know is that prion diseases really mess up your brain. i think prions can also be found in the nervous system as well so do with that what you will). From what I remember, these prion clumps can also damage and/or kill nerve cells, which leads to your brain getting these small holes, and becomes somewhat akin to a sponge when looked at under a microscope (prion diseases are also known as “spongiform encephalopathies” for a reason). The thing is, spongy brains with holes in them also means majour brain damage, which is seen in the symptoms.

Speaking of prion disease symptoms, they are very much not fun (i looked these up btw, i haven’t memorised the specific symptoms yet). They progress, starting smaller and creating minor inconveniences, to progressing enough to be debilitating. There are:

Memory issues and dementia

Difficulty walking/balancing

Behaviour/psychological changes

Hallucinations

Muscle stiffness/loss of muscle control

Seizures

Vision problems

Confusion

Fatigue

Insomnia

Difficulty speaking/swallowing

I know what you might be thinking. “I want a specific example of a time cannibalism lead a prion disease enough to be an epidemic like you said in one of your other answers to an ask.” Well, welcome to kuru (which means “to shake” in the Fore language), a disease that ravaged through the Fore people of Papua New Guinea (who had a cultural practice of funerary cannibalism) and their neighbours. This epidemic peaked in the 1950s, when 2% of all Fore deaths were because of kuru (hitting women and children the hardest). At this time, it was the leading cause of death among women in the Fore. The fact it was only 2% of all deaths makes it seem small, but some villages “became almost devoid of women” (this quote is from an article from medical news today that i used to get the kuru symptoms and information, and it’s a really interesting read! https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/311277#Symptoms-of-kuru). The reason it hit women and children the hardest was because they were the ones who would prepare the bodies; also, men believed that, during conflict, eating human meat could weaken them, so they consumed less than women and children. Kuru has a pretty long asymptomatic period that lasts years, but once symptoms present themselves they progress much faster and can kill in only a couple months (symptoms can be present for up to two years before death, although that’s still less than half the time of the incubation period, if not 1/10 of the time). Once symptoms appear, there are three stages of symptom progression a person goes through.

1. When symptoms are inconveniences:

Headaches

Joint pain

Shaking

Loss of balance

Speech deterioration

Loss of muscle control

2. When symptoms have bigger effects:

Inability to walk

Loss of muscle coordination

Severe tremors

Emotional instability (depression with outbursts of uncontrollable laughter)

3. When symptoms become severe

Inability to sit without support

Little to no muscle coordination

Inability to speak

Difficulty swallowing

Unresponsive to surroundings

Ulcerations (which will have necrosis, which is tissue death, and pus)

Symptoms lead to death, though the cause of death is usually pneumonia or severely infected pressures. This is no longer an issue for the Fore people, as the the practice was reduced. Kuru is likely extinct, and the last person is thought to have died from it in 2005.

So prion diseases have only had one epidemic, and they’re relatively rare, so why are they an issue? It’s because they can’t be cured, and (at this point in time) will always be fatal. They can be slowed, but symptoms will continue to progress. Remember how prions don’t have nucleic acid? This means they’re also resistant to radiation that would normally destroy/inactivate these types of things when enzymes might not be able to. There are usually about 350 new cases of prion diseases every year, so all things considered, they’re not common. However, cannibalism would almost certainly up the numbers. Cannibalism being a cultural practice is of course a more difficult subject, but I’m more here for the science.

Note to people who might read this and might want to comment about how “cannibalism would fix overpopulation tho” or “oh cannibalism is so horrible and bad how could someone do that”: personally, the morality behind whether or not cannibalism is “good” or “bad” doesn’t especially matter to me since science has shown negative effects, so please don’t bring any of that onto this post.

#long post #cannibalism mention #cannibalism tw #sickness tw #ulcer tw #pus tw #necrosis tw #death tw #death mention #child death tw #child death mention #j answers #eyes-burning-up

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years ago

Text

Mirrors (Box Boy Kauri)

The Anon with the question about Kauri seeing Vincent Shield kind of took over my pre-work writing time today! Whoops. At least I got a little work done on Danny before I got distracted...

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp!

CW: Some references to past violence, brief/vague references to Kauri’s treatment by Owen, but nothing specific at all

Kauri doesn’t look in mirrors.

There are a few, around the house - in the bathrooms and one in Owen’s bedroom that’s big on the wall. He can’t quite escape that one, but he never has to look directly at it, so all he catches is a hint of his black hair, the curls that escape any attempt to control them, long thin limbs and pale skin.

That’s it.

He never looks at his face.

When he brushes his teeth in the morning - when he uses the special soap for his skin and the washcloth over cheeks and mouth and jaw and nose and forehead - he doesn’t raise his eyes. Owen brushes out his hair and tells him if it’s good enough, and Kauri never ever looks at himself in the mirror.

He doesn’t like mirrors.

When he gets too close to them, his hands tingle, fingertips going sparking and numb and asleep. Look at 645898. His heart pounds, and he feels cold sweat on his neck that he can’t explain. There are too many mirrors even if there are hardly any.

It’s okay. He doesn’t need to look in mirrors, or worry about how he looks, because Owen will tell him when he looks good and when he doesn’t. Owen is very honest, and some people don’t like guys to be honest about whether or not you look good, and isn’t he so fucking lucky-

Incorrect mental aberration.

Kauri’s fingers twitch, and he can feel the little circles they pushed onto his skin that stuck, see the wires, the-... no. He forces that thought away, because the days he doesn’t remember the little circles are the better days.

Custom order, custom training. Look, I don’t make the rules. This is what’s on his paperwork.

So I’m supposed to, what? Put pictures of this guy up on every wall?

I don’t know, don’t look at me. I’ve never had a custom for this kind of shit. Look at the custom positions here. Jesus, this kid’s going to be put through the wringer. Plus making him afraid of his own face? Whoever picked this one must be a real weirdo.

Sssshhh, 645898 will hear you say that.

Who gives a fuck what he thinks? It’s not like he’s people.

They all think they’re people, until they’re done. I guess I’ll try putting the pictures up. What else do you think I could do? Negative reinforcement?

Don’t know. Videos, maybe? Movies? Give ‘im a good once-over every time this idiot’s face is on the screen. Heard the guy’s in a shit ton of movies now. Or, hell, just whisper his fucking name in the pet’s ear.

You know we don’t touch ‘em, Connor. Not allowed. Nobody but the owner. Gets ‘em all nice and needy for the richies.

Yeah, well. Maybe I was a little fuzzy on the no-touching rule. Everyone makes mistakes now and then.

Connor, you’re going to get fired if you keep messing with the merchandise.

Worth it. Besides, my success rate is excellent, they give me the ones that fight. Now, I can tell your jackass trainee’s been listening to us. Want to make him regret it?

Kauri cleans the mirrors without ever looking at them. There’s a cleaning lady who redoes all his work, but he doesn’t care. He only cleans to make time pass faster. He and Keira, working together. She bumps into his feet sometimes and it’s like having a cat or a dog, he tells himself. It’s like having something that cares about him.

He wants to look in the mirror, because he’s not supposed to look in the mirror. And Owen’s not home right now, so it’s the only chance he’ll get. He wants to he wants to he wants to.

He can’t.

It’s like remembering he used to be someone else, when he tries. And he’s not allowed to know if there was anyone else in his skin. It’s a face on the wall and a voice in his ear and the circles pressed against his temples and the pain.

His hands shake, his feet don’t feel the floor anymore. He tries to look at himself, to see the blue eyes and the black hair and the skin. Catches a glimpse and thinks, I didn’t know my eyes were shaped that way, that’s kind of pretty. I wonder if anyone else looks like me.

For just a half-second, he sees the same eyes, but longer hair. Her smiling face when he shoved his way past her down the stairs to where someone had breakfast ready for them. Out of my fucking way, jackass, she laughed at him with a backpack over her shoulders, and they tripped over each other at the landing, sprawling, and Mom yelled at them to get a move on already.

Kauri was mad, but he wasn’t really, because her name was Keira and his name was-

ERASED

There’s a sudden rush of white in his vision. He feels his knees buckle and his heart fall somewhere near the floor and a thunk and then nothing at all.

Kauri wakes up lying on the bathroom floor with Keira bumping into his arm. Kauri physical condition deteriorate. Kauri blood pressure drop. Kauri adrenaline. Kauri reassurance require? Keira provides.

“N-No,” Kauri whimpers. His head hurts - he must have hit it on the bathtub, and Owen will be pissed at him for giving himself a bruise. He’s not allowed to bruise. All the marks have to fade in less than two hours, that’s the rule. They all have to fade, and he’s not allowed to hurt himself, only Owen. “No, Keira, I’m okay, I’m okay, I just-... ow ow ow.”

He hears the door open and close, and freezes where he lays on the bathroom floor. Owen is talking on his phone, he thinks, and he sounds annoyed. “Yeah, sure, okay, I’ll have them over. Look, you don’t have to meet with her here, do you, Mom? You know Kauri is-... yeah, okay. No, I can lock him in my room or something. I know you don’t like to see them.”

Kauri’s eyebrows furrow. He’s never seen anyone in the condo but the cleaning lady, and she doesn’t talk to him. His head hurts, pounding on the right side where he must have hit the tub, and he groans, then claps a hand over his mouth.

Too late.

“Mom? I’ll call you back.” Owen’s voice is closer, and he opens stops in the open bathroom doorway, looking down at Kauri as he slides his phone into his back pocket.

Call for help

Who would you call? You signed up for this. You signed the contract, 645898.

“Hey, Kor-bore, watcha doin’ on the floor?” Owen grins at his own rhyme and Kauri smiles back at him, faintly, automatically.

“I, um, fell over,” Kauri says, pushing himself onto his knees, into Position Two.

“Yeah, looks like. Shit, you’re gonna have a goose egg, huh?” Owen isn’t angry, and Kauri is confused for a second, until Owen leans over him, a shadow over his body, and presses hard into the red spot at the right side of Kauri’s head, half-hidden by his hair.

Kauri winces away from it, but Owen clicks his tongue three times and Kauri freezes, grabbing onto his pant legs, the soft jogger sweatpants, with fingers that dig hard into the fabric until his hands ache with the grip and the effort of holding still. Owen presses this thumb harder, and harder.

“Pl-please stop, Mr. Owen,” Kauri whines and then the thumb is gone, immediately, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Owen is so nice, to listen to him, when owners don’t have to listen to their Box Boys, Owen tells him all the time.

“What’d you do to hit your head like that?” Owen crouches in front of him, and there are things Kauri lies to him about, but he feels shaky and his head hurts, even worse now.

He can’t remember how to lie.

“I, um… I tried to look in the mirror,” He whispers, and his shoulders jerk when Owen laughs.

He thinks he doesn’t like the way Owen laughs. But when his hand slides through the black curls, Kauri leans into it, closes his eyes, and feels his pounding heart start to slow, to calm. Owen is safe, when he is nice. Owen is the safest thing on earth.

He’s the only safety Kauri has.

The owner’s touch is safe, whoever they are.

“They did such a good job, didn’t they?” Owen stands, glancing at himself in the mirror - the sandy blond hair that sort of flops over his forehead, the angular shape of his face, a hint of stubble on his jaw. Kauri looks up at him wincing as the light hurts his eyes a little bit. “Shit. My mom’s coming, Kauri, and so is Karen Renford. You remember her, right?”

Kauri’s heart freezes, and blood runs like ice in his veins. “Yes, Mr. Owen.” His voice shakes, but if Owen notices, he doesn’t show it. “I remember Ms. Renford. Is she… Am I… Am I getting-”

Please, no, I don’t want to go back

Don’t make me go back there

Owen blinks and glances over his shoulder down at him, then just laughs, kindly. Kauri’s shoulders relax. “No, Kor-bore. She’s just coming to meet my mom, it’s a nice neutral place for them, I guess. I’m going to have some people over, so it’ll be like a real dinner party, too. We’ll have to lock you up for it, my mom doesn’t like the Box Boys much. Well, doesn’t like me having one anyway. Not one that looks like you.”

“Wh-what’s wrong with how I look?” He tilts his head, and Owen sighs. He doesn’t like when Kauri asks too many questions, and Kauri’s mouth snaps shut.

“Nothing’s wrong with how you look. What’s wrong is how he looks. That he still looks at all.” Owen looks in the mirror one more time, then back down at him. Then he leaves, and as Kauri pushes himself to his feet, he hears Owen laughing to himself down the hall.

“God, they did a great job on him,” Owen says, and laughs again. “Sweet boy can’t even look at himself.” Kauri picks Keira up and carries her back to the living room, her little wheels spinning.

What job did they do to me?

What did I sign up for?

#whump #box boy cinematic universe #box boy #erase to control #box boy universe #brainwashed #conditioned #conditioning #captivity #brainwashed whumpee #whumpee #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #owen grant #is so fucking creepy #and poor #kauri

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etheralisi · 5 years ago

Text

ρυмρкιη ριε αη∂ αℓℓ тнιηgs ηιcε

Uses references to this fic:<br /> https://archiveofourown.org/works/5832037

And more or less based on this prompt:<br /> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/160337841310/fluffbird-writing-prompt-s-an-old-and-homely#notes

Alternatively titled ‘Why Gloria Jenkins Should Not Be Allowed Near Candles’, this was the first tau fic I managed to complete back in 2018. It’s undergone a few changes, because ehhh, but I’ll release it into the wild as a short something. It’s doing nothing here, lying around and collecting dust.

𝙰 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙱𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎

~ 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙺𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛

Gloria smiled to herself as she sunk into her chair, her heart as toasty as an open fire, and insides tingling with the lingering feeling of contentment. Sure, the darn thing was falling apart, ragged at the edges and probably worth no more than a penny or two in a garage sale. Stuffing was oozing out that very moment. But it was home , and everything she had left of a life lived, with children running and screaming within these walls. Growing up. Living. Thriving. Leaving the coup to fly free.

But her? The mother hen? She stayed home.

After such a busy day of rooting around her loft for family photo albums, she honestly felt this time to rest her aching bones was well and truly earned, and no, she won’t take any constructive criticism on the matter thank you very much. What was, however, unfortunate to admit aloud and something she’d never in a million years concede to in front of her family was that her bones weren’t as energetic as they had been once upon a time… much alike her dwindling eyesight. Hazy blobs, it all was. Pretty ones, but hazy nonetheless. Her world became an abstract painting the very second her glasses left her face.

The elderly woman groaned, realisation dawning like a sledgehammer to the head, full on smack. She knew something had been missing. Her glasses! The darn things! How could she have possibly forgotten such an important item as those?

Using as much force as she could, Gloria found it in her to haul herself out of the comfort of her chair, even with her body’s initial protest. She stumbled about the house a bit, the grace of a drunkard or woman in need of glasses, searching for the location of wherever she had last left her glasses case. It had been, what? Two moments ago when she saw them? She’d put down the glasses into the case, taken her seat, and fallen into quiet bliss in her chair. Had it been knocked off and fallen under something?

Luck was on her side since her vision wasn’t as bad as it could have been in a few years time, deteriorating as the months wander by, so she managed to make out the basic shapes and colours of her surroundings just fine. No walking into walls for this woman!

Ah. Wait. No. Luck was very much not on her side at all, the case still having failed to show, and Gloria had to result to “making a strategic retreat” as she put it, deeming it inefficient to keep looking for something which would just turn up sooner or later when she wasn’t really looking for it. Thus is the way of life. Shrugging, she made her way back to her sad but lovable excuse for a couch seat, only stopping when she noticed the basket by the front door that she had placed there little under an hour earlier. Her niece, Juliana, had asked if Gloria had any family photos left in her house that she could share with her immediate family, and she had risen to the challenge by diving into her vast loft. And yes, she meant vast . There’s got to be at least two or three sigils on the walls at least to enlarge the interior to twice that of the outside. It was all new technology at the time she bought this house. All the rage.

So. The whole place was a disaster zone. Where all those missing trinkets turn up. Lost some socks? Probably go there, somehow. Good luck finding it in the coming year.

Getting to that album sure took some sweet sweet time. Which is why, on her long perilous journey, family photo albums weren't the only things she had found in her search, the numerous other knick knacks of various interest lying within the basket being an obvious example of this. There had been plenty of things she’d forgotten about, stashed away within the depths of the loft, never to be seen until they resurfaced that very day. Her gaze drifted to the fuzzy, orange sticks lying atop the basket that vaguely looked like fat carrots, if a little waxy if you so chose to chew them. But don’t be fooled by her eyesight, for they weren’t as they seemed.

She was pretty sure those were the candles she’d found hiding in a box labelled “ dangerous ”. Gloria had no idea why they had been labelled as such (maybe a potential fire hazard? Children’s grabby hands and whatnot) and could honestly never remember buying any candles from the Pine River Candle Company in her life. Yet, she knew good quality candles when she saw them, so she had taken them out of their box and added them to her basket to be brought down and used whenever she wanted to make her home smell like fresh pumpkin pie.

Hmm… fresh pumpkin pie, huh? It got her in the mood for a spot of baking. Reminded her of all those years back, the big grin her grandson had always given her whenever a plate stacked with her baked treats was laid out before him.

Alas the boy never really seemed to come visit his ol’ granny anymore, always giving excuses (and oh how he had the audacity to deny them being so — she knew an excuse when she heard one, could sniff one out from a mile away, blindfolded), and barely ever sent her up a Christmas card!

Well, it was his loss. He didn’t want to eat her baking anymore, then fine! She knew others, like the postman, for one, who’d take kindly to being fed.

With that thought in mind, Gloria picked up all six of the candles and made a return back into the living room. She began placing them all around the perimeter of the room, lighting them one by one as she went.

Her chair made protests of its own as she plonked herself back, age being something they both shared in common. Sadly. But she was no feeble woman, and outright refused to fall apart. Nope, not today. Life was good. Great even.

Caught in the moment, she sniffed the now heavily sweet scented air, an aroma that spelled everything she loved more than words could describe. It frolicked, dispersing itself throughout the air, tickling her nose as if it were a feather.

Ah, perfect.

Her eyelids began to shut as exhaustion took ahold of her, which is why it can be excused how she completely missed the way the candles in the room flickered, one by one being replaced with a much more menacing azure flame. Nor did she bear witness to the figure who popped into her living room in a plume of smoke.

What she did not miss, however, was the way said figure grumbled under his breath at the use of scented candles. Just, come on! She may have been old and her sight may have been lacking, but she wasn’t deaf!

Gloria wearily cracked open her left eyelid, before blinking twice to snap herself out of her stupor. The peculiarity of a strange man being in her house was something to pay attention to. And complaining about her candles no less?

Wait…

That brown blob of hair, that voice… could it be?

“Arthur, is that you?” Speak of the devil, had her grandson finally decided to get up off his backside and visit his old lady?

Somehow, though she didn’t know how, the room seemed to become ever more quiet as if trapped within a bubble of silence where not even time dared to flow.

“Uhm…” ‘Arthur’ choked out at last, “ Excuse me? ”

“Aha!” Gloria’s mouth twisted up with glee as she let out a small, victorious laugh which somehow morphed into a gleeful cackle when on the verge of petering out, “I knew it! You couldn’t stay away from my baking forever!”

“Your- nevermind .” He took a deep breath just before he continued, his words strained. “Look, Gloria, I’m not Arthur. I’m Alcor and I-.”

“Alcor huh?” She hummed in thought, not noticing how ‘Arthur’ harrumphed at her interruption. “Sounds pretty dumb. Why’d you change it?”

“And...” Gloria squinted, continuing. “What’s with the wardrobe change? Have you gone gothic, Arthur? That’s a lot of black you’re wearing.”

‘Arthur’ didn’t take too kindly to her plethora of questions, already shuffling backwards from her chair. “... Look, this seems like it was some mistake. I’m just going to go..”

With a speed so fast that she might have even broken the sound barrier, Gloria was out of her chair and had her hand firmly grasped around his arm, “You’re not going anywhere young man! Don’t you dare stop by for two minutes and then leave! You’re coming with me to the kitchen and we’re going to do some baking together just like we used to.”

She noticed him start to speak, though she cut him off before he could even so much as squeak a word out.

“Now off you trot, to the kitchen!” She released her hand from his arm and began pushing him through to said destination. “This rocky road cake isn’t going to bake itself.”

‘Arthur’ seemed to perk up at the mention of ‘rocky road’ and Gloria couldn't help but snicker at his sweet tooth. Some things never seemed to change.

“Ro͜cky̶ ͟ro͘àd͏?” He asked with an odd layer of reverb, getting Gloria to begin questioning if hearing was going a little off after all.

“Yes.” She sighed, already shovelling him into the kitchen and dismissing the reverb. “Now make yourself useful and turn on the oven.”

Alcor’s gold on black eyes numbly trailed after the woman’s figure as she left, leaving him alone in some random kitchen and wondering what the actual heck just happened?

#Transcendence au #Bread fic

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dreamcatcherjiah · 5 years ago

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Part 1

Painkillers. That was the first thought that you could rationalise when you woke up. The pain had been getting gradually worse through the months, to the point that it wasn’t only your chest that hurt anymore. When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the feeling of constant pressure you felt in the middle of you spine, as if someone was constantly pressing some object to your back, trying to reach you heart in one fine blow. You no longer felt the burning on your chests, as things stood at present. Yes, it was annoying, and it didn’t allow you to function properly on a normal day, but the painkillers that numbed your senses more often than not these days dealt with it marvellously.

So the first thing you did that day when you woke up was drag your cold feet to the bathroom and, even before looking at yourself in the mirror, you downed two painkillers with a few sips of water from the tap. They always left a funny taste in your mouth, those pills. Then you sat on the closed lid of the toilet, and patiently waited for the pain to go away. As an afterthought it occurred to you that you could at least have brought your phone and had a look through Twitter now that you had little else to do. It seemed that these quiet numb moments in the morning were the only time of day when you could snatch a few minutes to be up to date with the news and what was old and new about your favourite group. You’d been kind of disconnected lately, so busy with work that you hadn’t step foot in the dance studio for two weeks. It’s not like your body or its condition would have allowed it, anyway. With a tired sigh you decided that you could wait for the numbness to arrive lying on your bed scrolling through Twitter, just as well as you were doing now barefoot in the cold tile bathroom.

You dragged yourself back under the warm covers and reached for your phone in the night table. It wasn’t too cold, the case, but it gave you a startle nonetheless. Opening the bird app for the first time in weeks, you were assaulted with notifications that you ignored in favour of looking through the most recent tweets. And you worried. How would you not, when one of your favourite artists was looking as if he had dragged himself back from the dead? He looked smily and warm, but the bags under his eyes and the defeated curve of his shoulders told another story. Their fans, you along with them, were worried because his dance moves didn’t seem to have that energy behind them anymore. There was also constant speculation about the reason why he was constantly rubbing over his heart. The most adamant ones were even saying that he had found his soulmate and they had died and that’s why he was looking dead standing. It’s not as if they have any proof, though, you thought. The soulmate thing was a nice little bedtime story for those who believed in the long obsolete system, but that was all it was. There was no proof, either medical, nor visual it existed like it used to in the past.

Taking one last look at his tired, but still smiling face, you left your phone between the covers of the bed and started your morning routine. Rolling your shoulders back, you checked if the painkillers were doing their job. Noticing the pain had somehow dispersed evenly through your back and it was a bit more bearable now, you set about seeing that everything you had to do today was done.

Not even lunchtime and you were already in your second pair of pills, now due to the headache brewing behind your right eye. How can a job that you enjoy leave you feeling like a puppet whose strings have been severed? Your coworkers are louder than ever today, laughing ostentatiously about some trifle article they had seen on SNS or some celebrity buying another ultra-expensive apartment you would never been able to afford even if you worked yourself to the bone every day for the rest of your life. Wow, pain did make you cynical.

Someone cleaned their throat next to your desk, and looking up, you just found your typical office employee, pencil skirt, silkish blouse and a huge grin. And you couldn’t for the life of you remember her name. But, the point is that you were certainly pass the point of caring.

“Can I help you?” You asked, feigning a bit of interest, but not so much so that she would take it as a clue to stay talking to you longer than necessary, worsening your headache.

“Always so nice, Y/N! I don’t know how you manage!” I don’t, either, Karen. I don’t. “Well, what I wanted to tell you is that my birthday is coming next week, and I was planning on celebrating it at a cafe, but turns out something fantastic happened! Can you guess what it is?” Not even stopping to catch her breath, or give you time to try and guess, she continued, with such shining eyes you wouldn’t have been surprised if she started crying glitter. “I managed to get my hands in two VIP tickets for BTS’s final concert the day after tomorrow, and I know for a fact that you are also an Army… would you care to come with me, please?”

Right about now you were feeling quite a shitty person, if you were to be honest with yourself. This girl whose name you didn’t remember was offering a ticket, VIP no less, to the concert of your lifetime and you’d been cheekily half-ignoring her. Pain was really a bitch, how did you become this person you didn’t recognise? Even with her looking at you with those open, sincere eyes, saying please as if you wouldn’t give your last cent to experience at least once in your life what a BTS concert was like… You felt terrible.

“Hyejin-ah, Y/N! We are going for lunch in ten!!” Shouted another one of your workers, inadvertently saving you from the embarrassment of admitting you didn’t remember the other woman’s name. “You coming?”

Before Hyejin could answer, you called her name and took a deep breath, braving through the pain.

“Hyejin, I couldn’t possibly impose… those tickets are incredibly expensive, and I don’t think I could pay you…”

“Don’t be silly, Y/N!” She chastised you, releasing a pretty giggle. “It is my birthday, and I want to share my happiness with another Army! The tickets are already paid for, the only thing you need to do is choose a nice outfit for that day, take your Army Bomb and enjoy the concert with me, will you?”

“But…” your words died in your mouth, emotion clogging your throat. You found yourself smiling, truly smiling for the first time in quite some time, and nodding. “I don’t know how I will ever repay you, Hyejin-ah…”

With a little squeal, she threw her arms around your neck and hugged you tight. Forgetting about your back, your chest, your head, you returned the hug instantly. You couldn’t believe how this girl had changed the course of your day in a few minutes. How could someone be so selfless?

“You’ve done so much for me since I joined the company, Y/N-ah!” She was saying, while you mused to yourself. “Thanks to you I could get a head-start on working here and I am so thankful! And I am so happy I found another Army here, and we can share this experience! AND ON MY BIRTHDAY!”

Her happiness was contagious, and soon you were laughing out loud, feeling so much better now compared to the previous… weeks, months…? You didn’t even care anymore. You were going to repay Hyejin however you could in the future. No matter how much pain you were in, or how tired you were. This girl was worth braving through it.

“Oi, you two! Are you coming or not?” Asked the same guy again.

You both took your coats laughing and headed for the elevators. What an edifying morning you were having. You had ended up with a new friend — hopefully — and the best present someone could have given you. What else could happen today to make it better?

The days between the good news and the concert came and went without you so much as noticing. Hyejin was gradually becoming a constant presence in your life. The day after her offer you brought her a cup of coffee and the day after that as well. You could see it becoming a habit, but she was such a nice person that only for the smile she gave you, you would make a little detour to get your coffees each morning. She was such a nice woman, Hyejin. You could almost forget about the pain in your body. The concert being a Saturday gave you all Friday night to panic, running through your apartment to choose what outfit to wear. Your Mang headband was the sure item, but the rest was driving you mad. Deciding that it was futile, you checked your bag for the battery, your Army bomb and your bottle to fill with water once inside. You were so excited for the next day!

Suddenly your heart constricted and you vision went black for a second. Your Army bomb crashed against the floor, but you didn’t realise it, as your knees collided as well with the wooden surface. Panting, you took your hand to your forehead in an attempt to calm yourself. You hadn’t been feeling so well lately, but not so bad either. But this was next level painful. No, you wouldn’t allow this stupid pain to keep you from going to that concert. Not even if you had to drag yourself to that stadium. Little by little, the pain began to leave, and you watched helpless at the clear pieces of your Army bomb looking at you from the ground, as broken as you felt.

As soon as Taehyung had dropped the bombshell, it had been decided that Bang PD-nim needed to know. The situation was obviously getting out of hand, the fans were beginning to notice as well. But what was worse was the slow deterioration Bangtan was seeing in the face and body of Hobi. He was usually his bright self when the situation required it, but it was obviously becoming increasingly painful and the last thing that anyone wanted was for Hobi to be in pain. A couple of weeks after they returned to Korea for the final concert of the tour, he had dropped nearly unconscious to the floor, whimpering and rubbing his chest over his heart. The skin on his chest had become dry and irregular over that spot he couldn’t stop rubbing. This situation was getting out of hand for all parties involved.

With the final and the comeback approaching day by day, they had asked their for a meeting, the seven of them, Bang PD-nim and their managers. Mainly to discuss the situation and what to do in case Hoseok couldn’t perform — which was out of the question, according to him. He was performing and that was final.

“So, you are telling me that you assume these pains, that the doctors you have seen have no medical explanation for, have to do with your soulmate connection?” Asked the CEO, with his eyebrows raising to his hairline.

“Yes, sir.” Answered Hoseok, bowing his head out of embarrassment. If it was up to him he would have downed a couple of painkillers and they would all be practicing their asses out for the concert, and yet here they were because of some insignificant chests pains. Yes, as his mother had told him, chest pains were something really serious, even more so for someone with such a hectic lifestyle as theirs. But, deep down, and after Taehyung’s confession about being able to see the string, he knew what was causing the pain. That was in part the reason why he was feeling so defeated lately. Tae could see the string, but it had always pointed away from them in the same direction. With them travelling around the world on tour, the only thing Hoseok and the boys could manage to figure out was that his soulmate was provably back home in Korea, since the string always pointed in that direction. Now that they had returned he didn’t have the strength to ask Tae about the string. Just seeing his wild facial expressions and the way his head would snap in a thousand different directions was enough to warn J-hope not to ask.

“Son, the soulmate connection cannot be proven… no one can see the strings anymore, Hobi.” Answered back the older man, bringing him back to reality.

His hand instinctively went to his chest and started rubbing it. The painkillers he had taken that morning without Jiminie noticing were loosing their effect. How much longer would the meeting be, so that he could sneak out into the toilet and remedy that? Joonie’s hand stopped the circular motion over his sternum and with a look of finality, pinned both of Hobi’s hands to his leg.

“I can see them, though,” whispered Taehyung, not making eye contact with the CEO. “I can’t see anyone else’s but Hobi hyung’s at the moment, but his is right here,” he said, pointing at a slightly discoloured patch in the middle of Hobi’s favourite T-shirt.

“You have been rubbing away at it, alright, Hobe-ah,” whispered Yoongi, eyeing the T-shirt and the exact location where Tae’s finger was touching Hobi’s chest.

Bang PD-nim was looking at them all alternatively, not really ready to believe what they were insinuating but, what other explanation was there to the state Hoseok had been for the last few months? If finding his soulmate was the solution to free him from the pain he knew the younger man was feeling, he was willing to look for that person himself even. Finding your soulmate nowadays was almost seen as a miracle, and these boys deserved the universe after all the hard work and the blood, sweat and tears they had spilled.

Yes, it was completely unbelievable, but then again, rarer things had been seen through the years. He could take a leap of blind faith for the well-being of his boys, for the well-being of Hobi.

“Have you got any idea of where this person could be?” He asked, setting the boys into a momentary frenzy of disbelief. Was the CEO really agreeing to look for Hobi’s soulmate?

“We have a general idea, thanks to Namjoon,” said Jin, assuming his role as the eldest and revealing what so many nights of speaking amongst the seven of them had clarified, “while we were overseas, for example, according to Tae the string always pointed in the same direction and we checked. Hobi’s soulmate is not in America nor Europe. No matter how much distance east we covered, the string kept pointing in that direction. As soon as we got to Seoul though, Tae started seeing the string pointing in random directions. It didn’t make any sense to us, until Joon suggested that for the string to change direction so fast, the person should be much closer than it had ever been before. For the most part of the day the string would stay still pointing in the same direction, until around 5 pm when it would change locations. The person must be here in Seoul or incredible close, close enough to follow the thread and find them.”

After Jin tried explaining Namjoon’s complex reasoning to the best of his abilities, gaining a nod from the leader, Bang PD-nim looked deep in thought, and none of them dared to interrupt.

“Am I right in assuming you are not only here for the logistics decisions for the concert, but also to ask for permission to follow Hobi’s thread?”

Looks were exchanged among the seven of them, Hobi feeling a strange sense of hope and trepidation filling him for the first time in months.

“Yes, sir” he answered. No other words would leave his mouth now, his eyes fixated on the older man and holding his breath for the words that would free him or condemn him to endless pain.

“We have the concert tomorrow, we can’t very well drop everything and go looking for someone through Seoul,” at these words, Hobi’s shoulders stooped forward and his hands started itching in between Namjoon’s to reach for his chest. “That being said, I don’t see why we couldn’t use the days after the concert to conduct a bit of a search and, with the help of Tae we could find them in a day or two. Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

What happened next surprised every occupant of the room, including Hobi himself. He jumped from the chair, shouting “REALY?” Over and over again. His body was now pray of an energy he hadn’t felt in ages. Cursing through his veins like electricity was a feeling so exhilarating he couldn’t put words to it. Euphoria. Was it? Ecstasy, perhaps? He wouldn’t be able to put a name to it even if he tried, but he just knew he was feeling better than ever.

That was until something inside him told him his soulmate was in pain. He would be unable to tell what was it exactly that told him so, but there was definitely a nagging at the back of his head telling him something was not alright.

“They’re in pain,” was the only thing he managed to say before his eyes filled with tears and he became a whimpering mess in the chair he had been sitting before, in pain again.

“I think it would be better if you took him to the dorms for the night,” suggested the CEO, giving the poor man a warm look. “We will discus our plan of action in more detail tomorrow after the concert, boys. You just rest tonight, tomorrow is a very important day.”

Helping Hobi up, Jimin and Jungguk took him out of the office and towards the elevators. The rest of Bangtan followed slowly behind and the managers could hear them whispering among themselves.

“I swear, these mood swings are gonna end up giving me early grey hairs at this rate, I just want him to be alright,” Jin was saying while they moved slowly.

“As if you would know if you had grey hairs at the rate these people bleach our hair.” Scoffed Yoongi two seconds after.

💞Tight Hearts (Idol!Hoseok x Reader)

Part 1

Plot: The red string of fate was visible when our grandparents were children. They would play around, following the strings from one person to their soulmate and laugh happily when these two people inevitably found each other. It was a reason for happiness. But little by little, people stopped seeing the threads. In bad times, it was dangerous, it was a liability, so people stopped seeing them to protect each other from harm. When I was born, nobody saw them anymore, they just felt their soulmate. Anxiety, happiness, sorrow, love, the hearts of the soulmates are one, feel the same things, but it is almost impossible to find your soulmate, now that the threads cannot be seen.

Tight Hearts Masterlist

A/n: Here is the first part of Tight Hearts!! I hope you guys liked it!! It took me so long to publish because I am a bit of a perfectionist and I want this story to be perfect, as it is very close to my heart🥺🥺🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys liked it! Let’s chat!! Tell me what you thought🥺

Send me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list.

Love 💜🌙

Tag list: @obsessoverthesmallthings247 @threedecadesofawkward @mabel-k3 @tremendousminyoongi @justignoremepleaz @demonic-meatball @hadaises @littlestsweetpea28 @rjsmochii @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @gali-005 @salty-for-suga @indicisive-af

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druid-for-hire · 6 years ago

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UNSWAYED PT. III

(pt i) (pt ii) (pt iii) (you are here) (pt iv) (pt. v) (epilogue) (askblog)

this one’s got some revisions/retcons/refinings and new content. there will be some minor rehashing. this edition is more on the drama eurydice goes through on the path to find orpheus, orpheus’ deterioration in the Beyond, little bit of persephone and even littler bit hermes, finding orpheus, and finally getting to leave

thank you @supercantaloupe, @sonyalone, @unholy-boi, @s-aint-elmo, @ferretteeth for helping author this & help out w ideas and all!! sasha, u esp.

ok.

sits down and rests my old creaking bones in a rocking chair by the hearth and lights a pipe

gather round kids. this one might be a little long

one note:

on the same night that orpheus falls, persephone, when she finally composes herself enough, marches up to hades. the fury is still present in the vitriol with which she speaks. “you can’t have done that,” she says. “you can’t have just thrown him away. he didn’t sign any papers. you can’t make him work.”

“there were no papers,” he agrees, “but prisoners do not get papers.”

ok jumping back to kind-of-present

it’s taking a while to find orpheus. (too much of a while)

in between work and searching for him, both of which already take up so much of her time, eurydice... makes her attempts to craft a new guitar. hades took orpheus’. he’s going to either want it back or want a new one, and right now, she doesn’t think she can manage the first. it’s going to be important to their escape, she thinks, because she isn’t planning on staying in hadestown forever

but she’s not skilled, and making a real, good, balanced guitar is incredibly hard. she’s not trained. it never comes out good enough, never remotely close to a properly tuned instrument, much less the guitar that seemed to fit perfectly around orpheus' hands. and she doesn’t have a lot of time

so as it turns out, stealing back the original is the more feasible option

problem being: it’s a trophy. hades didn’t smash it, but it’s locked away with his other little “victories,” and he’ll notice it missing eventually

(those other trophies are other relics from other daring humans he’s had to deal with in the past. no one has come as close as orpheus)

but she does have more buffer time than usual because it's also a reminder of the martyr and the fact that his marriage is in the shitter so it's been put out of sight (and out of mind), so she's got a few days or more before he'd notice it's gone

as she keeps searching for orpheus, telling her story and getting help and word of her spreading...

eurydice stirs the town as the ladle stirs in the pot; out of all the feelings her story wakes, the most dominant—and most important—is the anger.

and for the first time, somewhere in some could-be-anywhere part of Hadestown, someone says no.

the age-old, unmoving, immovable hadestown, begins to... change. there’s persephone’s crack in the wall, and then there are others, and then they join, and then there’s unrest, and then there’s the threat of riot.

(which i know i already established but shhh im reiterating my point for this:)

unholy-boi: hades was at least formerly hands on enough to give orders, to scrape down new souls, to preach about the wall

now he locks himself in his office, head in his hands, unable to handle the idea that he’s losing control, and every MOMENT he spends locked away he loses control more, but he needs to think, he needs to think, he needs to think--

The fates are at his door, they sing horrible music, things he doesn’t want to hear, lies and twisted truths to manipulate the king. except he’s not being manipulated at all. this is all him, he knows it--this is just him and his paranoia and the workers' rage beginning to boil on his doorstep.

the god is hidden away in his office and hardly lets anyone in. he isolates himself and Persephone barely even visits this winter anyway.

he wonders if the martyr boy really did fail.

(no, he tells himself--he did fail, because his goal was to get him and his lover out, and now both of them are damned here forever. all of this? an unfortunate side effect.)

hades... was very nearly swayed by orpheus, but took his “obligation” to a city (that he’s already lost) over the slightly breaking voice of orpheus, and the rumors. however when he sent orpheus away, things only got worse. but how could he just crawl to pull orpheus back now? would that not be sacrificing his iron will? his grip of steel? how can he turn to go back if he’s already made his decision? moreover- how can he trust bringing orpheus back will fix anything at all?

a lamenting reprise from hades with orpheus’ guitar would be cool. i don’t know if it’d be in character or appropriate to the story but. its been a fun thing ive been tossing between my hands

it probably starts when he accidentally kicks it over--there’s a trophy room, but he hasn’t cleared a space for the guitar yet. he kicks it over, and when it hits the ground the strings hum Menacingly at him

after the song he puts it away--out of sight, out of mind

show them a crack.

and they’ll tear down the wall.

besides the immediate danger orpheus is in and his voice failing being drives to find him as soon as possible, eurydice also has to worry about the fact that persephone won’t be there to help her soon. the hadestown debacle happens on the onset of proper spring

persephone, for once, is grateful that hades keeps her late. it means she can help the lovers. for so many weeks she sends that boy’s voice on a wind straight for Eurydice to keep her going

but later is not never, and to the surface one day she goes, and bitter with the absence of his wife Hades drives them all to work harder

which strains Eurydice for time and energy even more

things are harder when she’s gone, as always—eurydice has less time to track him down, and without persephone’s sing-sing wind, pinpointing him is more difficult.

Hermes is there at the station to greets her when she returns to end the winter

“how is he doing?” “not well.”

“you think they’ll make it?” “i don’t know.”

hermes asks her, “how long?” how long will orpheus last? how long will it take for them to find each other and leave? how long will it take until hades finally snaps? persephone can’t answer any of them

(hermes knows, of course. but he has a role to play)

the summer roars to life on top, but persephone can’t stop thinking about the lovers underground. she knows that orpheus won’t make it through the summer. she sneaks down below for two weeks in june and in that time, a hurricane devastates the surface without her to control it.

the sing-sing wind returns with a straining melody and eurydice wonders. she’s grateful, but she wonders

and... one day it doesn’t. she feels the breeze, but there’s nothing on it.

nothing.

i’ve fucking had enough, eurydice decides. i’m stealing that fucking guitar, hades be damned.

in the sleeping hours of hadestown she sneaks her way up to the palace, dodging searchlights and finding havens, already at an advantage because she’s scoured Hadestown so long and made allies in so many places

and when she makes it up to the palace, the... the guards, the hounds, all of them are... either missing or intoxicated to shit. which is odd, she thinks, but doesn’t question it

she makes it to the trophy room (after a Lot of searching, because she doesn’t have a map)

she walks in and marvels in awe at all the trophies

she wonders about the histories behind all of them

to be honest, she doesnt know that this is where the guitar is, but it’s a pretty good guess (and the right one)

and then there’s a sound at the doorway. eurydice freezes. there’s nowhere for her to hide

she turns, and... it’s persephone in the doorway. persephone, who should not be here.

they lock eyes for a moment, and then she points at a locked case in the back of the room and keeps on walking. whistling loudly. a very “nope, nothing here at all” move

... well, works for her

eurydice breaks off the padlock, gets the guitar, and flees

musing on kampê for unswayed because i really dont want her to just be a two dimensional villain:

- homegirl is bitter. she used to rule the underground. she was the queen of the dark, and every god and titan knew her name, and hades did fear her too.

until. well.

and now she’s practically half-forgotten—a footnote. she hates it. hades and persephone are both her younger and yet they came into her realm, and she was shunted aside to this dismal little hole, and she has to answer to him and she fucking hates it. no mortal up Top or even in hadestown remembers her name. if an old dragon like her has no place out there... if she can’t make herself known in the outside world anymore, then she’ll fucking sear herself into the minds of the people she has, in the only way she knows how

(it should also be noted that homegirl is. unstable. i think kampê sort of violently switches between abhorrently vicious to weirdly sweet and manipulative and anywhere in between depending on the day/time/situation)

(also, she wasn’t always deaf. but being even older than the world, than hades and persephone, things... happen)

also, part of how she keeps everyone here is 1) working them to death and 2) telling them that they’re needed here, and that hadestown is an oasis of stability outside the chaos up Top

orpheus is not doing well.

orpheus forgets.

orpheus wears down.

(orpheus gets sick.)

whoops! That’s An Issue. but still he works, because no one can rest long, and the coal dust and ash and smoke and stifling heat do him zero favors

his focus drifts; he loses track of eurydice, of his songs. the work is first and foremost

you ever get worked so hard and pushed past your physical limit that u get like, spots in your vision and want to throw up? yeah thts orpheus

orpheus doesn’t stop sneaking off every day to the spot at the edge of the Beyond. he doesn’t sing out for help anymore, but... he sits, because he knows that it’s important. this place, where he sang out for a lover he doesn’t remember anymore with songs he no longer has

(cue Flowers but for orpheus, in quiet & faltering breathy lines)

he’s “forgotten a little thing called spring”

kampê still comes after him to drag him back to work. sometimes it’s wordless; sometimes she yanks him to his feet by the straps of his overalls, sometimes all she needs to do is put a hand on his shoulder and he’ll get up and shuffle back into the mines and smokestacks

other times she asks why he’s still doing this, why he’s still out there. other times she tells him that there’s no need to come out here anymore. he shouldn’t have in the first place. out there--it’s no better than here.

the times when she yells--few and far between, because fetching him is hardly much of a chore anymore--he winces, since it’s not like she has the finest grasp on volume control, being deaf

the scene we see is her sing-speaking some fucked up reprise of hey little songbird, beckoning him to come back and taunting him; i didn’t write this one out but i imagine there’s some fun things to be had with the “vipers and vultures” line

and orpheus sing/saying, in this cracked, hoarse voice, “I wanna lie down forever”

he’s. so tired

(also singing his voice, long since shredded, sorta finally collapses in this one and i don’t imagine him having another sung line after that)

the canary in the coal mine isn’t dead yet but he will be

eurydice goes into overdrive after she steals orpheus’ guitar back

(she strums a few notes on it, and it hums warmly of sunlight in her hands. her chest fills with something indescribable. god, she missed this)

she takes more risks. sneaks out farther and strays out farther. skips out on work, keeps cutting close, nearly gets caught more often than she did before

eventually. finally. finally, she finds him, almost unrecognizable in the crowd masses, but she catches him alone

and she calls out to him, her arm outstretched, “come home with me.”

so i’m going w the “recognize her right away one” and following what i wrote in the first post

BUT: the callback to “come home with me i” with orpheus’ forgetting in “come home with me” “who are you?” is Too Fucking Good and I ended up writing my own lyrics to a “Come Home With Me III”

i’ll post it somewhere. i’d link the google drive link here directly but then tumblr would nerf this post off of the hadestown tag.

you can play off of that if you want, toy around with it as a sort of small canon divergence to this au, but for the main one i’m rolling with what i already did in the first post... it’s unfinished btw there’s this small section i’m stuck on but i didn’t wanna delay this post anymore for something so minor

eurydice sees how much the beyond has ground him into the dirt—his eyes are sagging and half-lidded, dulled and shadowed and barely focused on her, miserable but too exhausted to feel

she sees this plenty in the ver. w/ Come Home With Me III before he remembers her, and for a moment in the other version before his eyes light up with recognition and suddenly it’s like some of the soot has sloughed off of him with the way his whole face lights up

also she shoves his guitar at him and he’s !!

it’s. horribly out of tune though. he’s tuning it while they talk a little

but either way: the steam whistle blows, the signal to get back to work, and orpheus is immediately lowkey fearful and trying to get back before kampê catches them

eurydie is completely “oh hell to the fuck no i JUST got you back after MONTHS of searching you are NOT leaving”

orpheus is just afraid of what kampê’ll do if she sees them together, he doesn’t plan on leaving her -- he doesn’t hand her back the guitar, after all

again, kampê isn’t the most stable

then uhhh Whoops they spend too long there and she catches them, a la Papers

cue panic

cue tousling w/ eurydice and somehow getting kampê still enough (probably w pinning) to try and listen to Orpheus and she's just waiting to kick his ass because no music is ever gonna sway her, boy

(the dogs get placated by a few chords plucked out)

he can't sing, but he plays

and the other workers listen, and are moved

they are moved by eurydice's act of coming here after him

by listening to orpheus sing of love

by listening to orpheus forget, and deteriorate

by having spent months listen to their love last and finally succeed with eurydice's arrival, this stalwart notion of hope

they didn’t ignore it. everybody knows the walls have ears

and they join by accompanying orpheus' song with the heavy metal sounds of the factories

they stomp, they clang, they turn grinding gears that crash and pound, in synchrony

(where the little wheel squeals and the big wheel groans)

it’s a percussive song that they make

more than a simple tune, a steady beat, more than just the music of machinery

it shakes the entire Beyond with the force of the determination of a thousand weary souls, of the hopeless regaining hope for the first time in centuries

Forced through the percussive force of the entire Beyond, implicit in its rhythm and shake, is the old song. all of this old and rusted metal, all of this harsh machinery, all of it singularly resonant in the notion of la, la la la, la la la

kampê feels it all through her feet and it rumbles in her chest, it shakes her to her very core and rattles her down to her bones, twists in her gut and forces in her fear and awe, and awe and wonder, and... something else

eurydice feels her loosen under her grip and backs off from pinning her and she still doesn’t move

at some point she lurches forward with her fist raised--orpheus doesn’t stop playing but he does shut his eyes, thinking oh god this is it, and eurydice rushes forward to pull her back

but she just... punches her fist into the ground by his feet

she feels everything not only through her feet but up her arm, more directly to her chest, to her heart, to her head

at last, swayed, feeling far more of something other than fear or anxiety or anger than she ever has in a long time...

she lets them all go

ok ngl there’s some blank spots here. i’m blanking here. idk how to transition

but

it's an entire exodus out from this tiny secluded part of Hadestown

The Great Beyond empties itself out and Kampê is left behind

the move is headed by Orpheus & Eurydice and the mood is very similar to the exodus from Egypt by the jewish folk in the movie Prince of Egypt

including the dark lighting, teal against the warm orange-yellow of their torches (lamps in this case), the wind, the craggy rock, everyone together, overall just the general tone

so during this walk from the Beyond to central hadestown with orpheus & eurydice more or less alone at the front is when Promises happens

it’s. a hell of a lot sadder here, but also a lot softer and more tender

orpheus’ lines are spoken like with Come Home With Me I / II coz he ain’t singin’ anymore. he can’t

and that’s the thing, he can’t sing anymore.

all those things he said in wedding song, all his promises--that his voice would convince the world to give them everything they need

orpheus... doesn't have that anymore, or at least not nearly as strong, or traditionally lovely as it used to be

his voice was cut into pieces from the nasty shit air in the places he was sent to work

all he has is his guitar, and while he’s good at it, his real strength is in his poetry--it’s his voice and his words that makes the rivers and the trees and birds sing along

the people of the Beyond may have been inspired to percussion by his guitar, but they were more swayed by the notion of their love that was built up over the past few months ever since he got banished

so like. to walk with eurydice and be by her side for as long as he lives, is really all he can really promise her at that point anyway

it's not even that he doesn't have anything and broke the promise that he’d sing them all they needed. he can’t even do that anymore

the voice that charmed her, that said he’d provide for her, is gone

would she love him now, he wonders, if the great poet can no longer sing

and many thanks to @sonyalone for contributing this:

he offers his devotion to her. the only thing he has that’s worth anything, the only thing he can do. and when he does hes so afraid that he'll see in her eyes the understanding disappointment, the pity and "i suppose so" that he fears, but he finally raises his head and he cries because her eyes are shining with joy and love and hope. thats all she ever wanted from him. she just wants to be with him, voice or no, amenities or no, and hes never felt so loved

he weeps, and she weeps--from grief and relief and love--and they hold each other close

sheltering under each other

and they have never been more secure in their love

he walked the whole length of the railroad into hell for her, he survived in the pit for her, she scoured the underworld for him, she came for him and she's keeping him

and the return of all these workers startles everyone in central hadestown and a lot of the work gets stalled out

which, of course, draws hades’ attention.

tune in next time for more on this shit ✌️

(pt i) (pt ii) (pt iii) (you are here) (pt iv) (pt. v) (epilogue) (askblog)

#hadestown #hadestown au #hadestown fanart #unswayed au #hadestown musical #my art #my work #look i KNOW the guitar is too small but also I don't care #edit 6/26/19: forgot to include some stuff re: the face-off with Kampe and Promises

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nothing-i-can-do-now-i-guess · 5 years ago

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Heyo! Kia, 21, female. Looking for another rp since most of mine seemed to have dried up. EST time zone, though my schedule is currently being weird, but I should be able to respond a few times a day. Sometimes just a few per week. I am a pretty detailed writer, focusing a lot on character introspection so I ask that you are at least similar in that regard. I write about 2-4 paragraphs on average and can write more. It really just depends on what’s happening in the rp. Dark themes, blood and violence may be present in the rp. I don’t write smut, I will only fade to black. Please be 18+. (On a side note, I’ve done all of this on my phone so I don’t know how the format looks. I apologize in advance if it’s too long and/or messy.)

Made a vampire oc for no reason. Now i have nothing to fo with her so I’m gonna see if I can get an rp going with her. If any of my plots involving her interest you or you have any plots of your own feel free to message me. Or interact with this post and I’ll contact you.

Name: Magdalena Cirila Kovac

Nickname: Mag, Lena, Maggie

Species: Vampire

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Born: Sometime during the Middle Ages

Occupation: Depends on plot. Medieval times she’s a hired mercenary or hunter, Modern she’s the leader of her own vampire coven. She could be a monster hunter in any time period really.

Genres: Fantasy/Supernatural, Drama/Angst, Medieval, Romance, Adventure, Modern

Appearance:

Normal Form: 5’8, athletic build, pale skin, light freckles, long wavy dark red hair with even darker ends, bright green eyes. Beauty mark underneath the left corner of her mouth. Canines are only slightly elongated. Looks like a human in her mid to late 20s

Other Form: skin becomes deathly pale and black veins appear on her face and shoulders, scleras turn black and corneas turn bright red, all her teeth become razor sharp, nails turn into claws

Abilities:

Immortality: No longer has a lifespan. She can not age at all. Because she is undead she does not have to worry about any illness

Superhuman Physiology: Strength, Stamina, Agility, Senses, Durability

Accelerated Healing: Can heal from any normal injuries within seconds, larger wounds take a few minutes and may require her to feed to restore energy. Can come back from death from exposure to sunlight with blood

Metamorphosis: Can call upon a large swarm of bats to do her bidding. She can also transform into a swarm of bats and back at will. All of her clothes and weapons will transform along with her body. The bats can be used to charge her enemies in an attack.

Mesmerism: Possess the ability to coerce and control humans to do her bidding as long as she makes eye contact. However if someone has a strong enough will they may be able to break from her control or may not even be able to fall under her control.

Darkness Manipulation: Can generate and manipulate the darkness at will. As she ages the power grows stronger and can be used to cover larger and larger areas for longer periods of time.

Vampirism: She has the ability to turn others into vampires if they drink some of her blood. However it is not a guarantee that they will survive the transformation. Her blood is considered a poison to humans and will rapidly begin to kill someone once ingested. Some die in the process, if they survive then they will become a vampire. Anyone that she turns forms an attachment to her and cannot go against a direct order from her nor can they cause her physical harm. Any attempts to do either will result in an intense pain. She can however free them from her control at any time.

Swordsmanship: Mag is a very skilled swordsman, even before she became a vampire. Along with her powers she is a force to be reckoned with

Weaknesses:

Sunlight: Being exposed to sunlight can cause her skin to burn and blister, leaving her weak and unable to walk. If exposed for too long then she will begin to deteriorate into a charred corpse. However she can be brought back with some blood. She can go out during the day as long as she sticks to the shadows and will be fine to wander if it’s a cloudy day.

Wood: A sharp piece of wood to the heart can weaken and kill her. Sharp wood to the heart will cause her body and clothes to rapidly decay and disintegrate, ending up as a fossil like corpse with scraps of clothes left

Silver: Silver burns upon contact with her skin. If in the presence of a large amount of silver it will weaken her enough so that she is practically human. The very sight of silver can leave her vision blurred and dampened her hearing. As she ages it will become less of a problem.

Religious Items/Places: Religious items give off an intense light that burns enough for vampires to fear it. Though older vampires only see a bright light that causes slight discomfort at most. She is not able to enter holy grounds and if she does so it causes great pain. Holy water is like silver, burning a vampires skin upon contact

(Garlic: Not really a weakness, it’s more so like with lactose intolerance. She shouldn’t eat it since she won’t feel great later on but it tastes really good and is a risk she’s willing to take.)

Background:

Magdalena was born the only child of the King and Queen of Hungry during the Middle Ages. After one too many assassination attempts on her life during her teenage years, Magdalena was given a personal bodyguard who was training a younger, recently hired guard. The two would watch over her as she went about her days in the castle. Over time she grew close with the newer guard, eventually the pair fell in love but kept it a secret.

An attack on the castle one night led to the deaths of her father and the older guard assigned to her. Her lover was promoted to be her new head guard and worried for her safety, he began to teach her how to swordfight in secret. Rumors of another invasion reached the castle and it was decided not long after that Magdalena would marry sooner so that the people may have a king to lead them.

Not having much of an option, Magdalena finally revealed her feelings for her guard and demanded to be married to him or she would abdicat her rights to the throne and leave. Not wanting to lose her daughter, the Queen agreed to Magdalena’s terms. The pair were married and quickly crowned the new King and Queen. The King went off to fight in the war and returned home with a victory. Though a few more attempts at conquering them happened over the years, putting a strain of the kingdom as a whole. Not wanting to just sit idly by, Magdalena took on a vigilante persona early on in her time as Queen to help defend her people.

Years later she would give up vigilantism to raise her son along with her husband. They were allowed a few years of peace due to a treaty with neighboring kingdoms that did not last forever as their allies were being invaded and taken over with this new enemies eyes turning toward them.

In an attempt to save her family and kingdom, Magdalena did extensive research on any possible help and found a lead. In the middle of the night she disappeared to find help. The trail led her to a powerful vampire that agreed to give her power to save everyone she cared for only if she agreed to help them seek revenge against those that wronged them. This meant that she would have to leave her family behind forever, but also she could protect them. So with a heavy heart she agreed to their terms, sacrificing her own life to save those she cared for.

With her newfound power, Magdalena was able to kill the leader of the invading army, thus stopping the invasion of her kingdom but could not return home. So she allowed everyone to think she was dead. As per her agreement, she followed her new sire and helped him take revenge, learning about her new abilities as she did so. After spending long enough time by his side and no longer being needed, he finally freed her from his control, allowing Magdalena to leave and do as she wished. By now her family had long since died of old age and all she could do now was roam for the rest of eternity. With him being the only constant in her life she decided to stay for a while until she felt comfortable enough to strike out on her own.

Plot Ideas: These are all pretty vague ideas I had that can be expanded on. Of course if you have your own ideas I’m more than willing to listen to them. Or we could even combine them with one of my ideas. They can take place during anytime period except for Plot B.

Plot A: A VampirexWerewolf plot. It could be that one of our characters has recently moved their coven/pack onto the others territory and they’ve been having a lot of disputes between each other’s group. So in order to try and get some semblance of peace our characters agree to get together and discuss a shaky truce. The two start running into each other more and form an unexpected friendship that eventually leads to more. Slow burn, FxAny Gender

Plot B: Can explore an unlikely familial relationship between Magdalena and the person who turned her into a vampire. Explore how the two get along. Maybe also figure out who it was that wronged your character and why the two are hunting that person (or group of people) down. I literally know nothing about this character so you’re basically free to do whatever you want with them. Platonic, found family dynamics

Plot C: Fake Relationship plot. Your character is a pure blooded vampire royal that is being forced to marry someone in order to inherit the throne. Thankfully they get to choose who but they aren’t interested in anyone. Enter my character. The two agree to enter a fake relationship that allows your character to get the throne and my character gets a place she can unwind at. Could be that my character isn’t approved of by the council and they have to get around that. Slow burn FxAny Gender

Plot D: My character is a well known hunter and is hired to hunt down your character and arrest them. Finding your character is easy, getting them back to where they need to be is the hard part. Either because your character is very difficult or because someone else is hunting your character down to kill them. Could either be FxAny Gender romance or it could be platonic

Style: Depends on time period

Medieval

Modern

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