#just like the fragmenting comes with the adrenaline phases
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i’m always either splintered into a thousand pieces or a sinking stone. it would be nice to feel solidified again
#i don’t mean this like metaphorically or anything#this is how it feels#i don’t have a better way to describe it#i feel like im being pulled down right now#like my brain and soul are the sole things being affected by gravity#i’m melting or phasing or something into the core of the earth#other times i feel like the louis wain kaleidoscope cats#i’ve never seen it so perfectly represented like that before#i feel spiky and shattered#like i’m fragmenting into something way bigger than i should be#like shattered glass sort of but not really#it would be easier to describe if it was happening to me right now#but right now i’m in sinking mode#it sucks.#it comes with the depressed phases#just like the fragmenting comes with the adrenaline phases#whatever idk what i’m talking about#it’s too loud in my head to think right now#i miss silence#looking at my post from earlier about silence like wow i jinxed myself#all the voices are back#everything is telling me to kill myself#i wish everything would shut the fuck up#whatever#anyways
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Adrenaline - Chapter 10 'Hard Truths'
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Summary: A minor mishap and an unknown visitor. Your boredom causes Zayne to lose his cool.
TW: Very minor surgical procedure and mentions of wounds and blood.
AO3, Wattpad <- Up to date chapters can be found here, currently on chapter 36 if you want to binge and continue reading there! <3
The next few days that passed had been challenging for you to say the least. It was difficult to have to rely on people to help you, what with you normally being fiercely independent, your first trip to the bathroom had been accompanied by a nurse and even though you knew that they’d seen anything and everything before to the point that nothing phased them, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. You knew it was a stupid thing to feel, but you hated being unable to do basic things for yourself. What you had been more unprepared for however was how you looked. You hadn’t seen yourself since before the incident happened and when you’d caught your reflection in the mirror, you’d immediately burst in to tears. The person before you had looked like a stranger, hollow eyes against pale, bruised skin with hair that hung limp around your face. You were thankful that one of the nurses when you’d been unconscious had washed the blood from your hair and body, though some of the smaller wounds that didn’t need bandages were still unsightly to look at.
Zayne hadn’t been joking when he said you’d suffered extensive injuries, you’d already known about the wound on your side and the smaller one on your right arm, you remembered getting those ones. It was everything after that had taken you a few moments to come to terms with. For starters you’d had to have a massive transfusion of blood after the quantity you’d lost, your left clavicle was fractured, you’d suffered extensive bruising all over your body which you assumed had happened when you’d harshly landed on the floor. When the wanderer had hit you it had immediately either fractured or broken fourteen of your ribs, a couple of the broken ones having been pushed back enough that the sharp edges of bone had punctured your lungs and a couple small fragments finding their way in to your heart. There had then been the dozens of shards that had pierced your flesh, a few of them having contributed to your damaged lungs and two having gone deep enough that they’d caused two small tears in your heart, the rest of them littering your torso with varying sizes of now neatly stitched wounds. And then of course you’d died, not once but twice. It had been a lot to process and you were still semi making sense of the fact that you were still alive, but you knew that it was going to take you a while to recover from this.
It had been the day after you’d woken up that you were moved out of intensive care, having been subjected to more scans and tests than you’d care to count to make sure that everything was functioning to the best that it was able to do so given your current situation. Zayne had made sure that you were moved in to a private room so that you were able to rest and sleep more easily, though with people and nurses coming and going at all hours, and noises constantly around you whether from machines or just general hospital sounds, you found it difficult to get a decent amount of sleep, letting the dark circles under your eyes seem like they were taking up permanent residency.
The room you had been put in was near to Zaynes office as he was still sleeping there much to your protests and it was also the cardiology ward. He’d placed all of the flowers and gifts you’d received in to the room prior and had smiled softly at seeing your face light up at seeing all the brightly coloured blooms of get well gestures from your friends. You had made a teasing remark about whether you were still in the hospital and not a florist though.
Even though it was just shy of 7am, you had been awake for hours. It wasn’t because you weren’t tired, currently you were almost always in a constant state of tiredness, Zayne having said it was your body using a lot of energy to repair itself. No matter how you lay though, nothing was comfortable and even though you were in your own room, your highly trained hearing made it near impossible to block out all the sounds of the hospital from beyond your door. You managed about an hour long nap here and there but it wasn’t enough and it was making you a little grouchy, though you hadn’t told Zayne yet, not wanting him to be any more worried than he already was.
The boredom and restlessness was also getting to you, having been so used to being so active in your everyday life and from your job, being told to rest was the worst part of this whole ordeal, at least the pain could be managed easily with the morphine you were on. Tara had visited you the day after you’d been moved and had brought along some puzzle books and magazines but you’d nearly completed them all with how bored you were. Puffing out your cheeks you glanced towards the window watching the dark clouds slowly begin to lighten with the early winter sun.
There was a knock on the door before a nurse came in, smiling warmly at you when she saw that you were awake. “How’re we feeling today dear? Did you sleep any better?” She placed a little paper cup down with a couple tablets in before pouring a glass of water and setting that down next to them. You smiled at her, she’d been assigned to be your main nurse and had introduced herself as Ivy. She was a small middle aged woman but had one of those demeanours that instantly put you at ease and lifted your mood “A little” You lied before a wince escaped you slightly when a stinging sensation from the wound on your side made its way through the morphine barrier after you’d tried to sit up more.
During the night you’d gotten too cold, the weather outside had shifted dramatically from the week prior, the temperature plummeting down in to the low single figures. Zayne had gone to your apartment to bring you some more comfortable clothes, an extra blanket and toiletries you’d asked for, though the bag was across the room in a cupboard which you would need to reach up for. Of course you knew that you were supposed to ask for help with things such as this but as it had also been the middle of the night you didn’t really want to be a bother to anyone, so stupidly you’d swung your legs off the bed before finding your balance. The walking over wasn’t too much of a problem apart from making you a bit breathless, but as soon as you reached up and began rooting through your bag with your only working arm, you’d felt an awful stretch to the wound on your side.
You hadn’t been too worried about it, thinking that you’d just put a little too much tension on it and by the time you’d gotten back to your bed with the blanket in hand the pain had somewhat disappeared until you’d forgotten about it altogether. That was until now, the stinging turning in to a dull burning sensation. Ivy had been monitoring your vitals but hearing your wince she had instantly asked where the pain was as with the medication you were on it shouldn’t have been too bad. You gestured to the wound on your side “I just moved the wrong way, I’m fine” You said trying to brush it off though Ivy was already beginning to peel back the covers from you “Even so, I’ve got to check. We don’t want you any more injured than you already are do we?” She replied lightly as she lifted your shirt enough to see the dressing over the wound, causing a fleeting frown to cross her features.
As you’d been watching her you’d seen the brief frown making you glance down to your side to see that the dressing had crimson seeping through it. You inwardly groaned at the sight and let the pillows behind you swallow your form some more as Ivy lowered your top back down “It looks like you might have broken your stitches, I’ll need to get a doctor to make sure.” You nodded before a sense of panic made you call after her before she could leave “Can you umm, can you not mention this to Zayne?” You asked sheepishly, hating the thought of him finding out you’d caused yourself harm from your own foolishness. Ivy hesitated before giving you a soft smile, then turned to go and find a doctor.
To your relief the doctor that trailed in after Ivy was Greyson, however he wasn’t the last person through the door. Long legs clad in black form fitting jeans came in to your view first, your shoulders sinking slightly as your eyes moved up his ridiculously perfect athletic build until they were staring directly in to a pair of verdant green ones. Ah shit.
He was holding two steaming cardboard cups and a paper bag, which you noticed was from your favourite cafe and if your nerves weren’t currently making their presence known you would have been delighted by the sight. He calmly placed the items down on the table over your bed before minding it out of the way of Greyson. “I’ve been informed some of your stitches broke” His voice was low and measured, enough that you couldn’t quite gain how in trouble you were just yet. Unfortunately for you, Zayne had been on his way to see you when he’d spotted Ivy leading Greyson in the direction of your room holding a tray of surgical implements. It had immediately given him cause for concern and he’d asked what had happened. Ivy gave you an apologetic look as she came to your side with the tray of instruments, antiseptic wipes and clean dressings as Greyson began to gently take the dressing off the wound.
Looking at it was a bad idea, you wouldn’t say you were squeamish, if anyone else around you got hurt you would be able to help them out no problem, but the sight of wounds on yourself tended to make you feel nauseous. Luckily, a lot of your more bigger wounds had been covered up, smaller ones you weren’t too fussed with, but the angry red slice on your side made your stomach churn when you saw the newly opened flesh, fresh crimson seeping to the surface. Your face was quick to pale quite considerably as you began to feel lightheaded. Before you made yourself faint by continuing to look at it you tore your gaze away, letting it fall on the raven haired male who looked anything but happy as Greyson began taking out the old stitches to replace with new ones. “Do you know how this could have happened?” He asked without breaking his gaze away from the work he was doing.
You hesitated in speaking, watching as Zayne locked eyes with you to see whether you told the truth or not. You bit your lip slightly before looking away, not able to look him in the eye anymore as you began explaining how you’d managed to tear the stitches. Ivy and Greyson didn’t seem too phased about your explanation, after all they’d seen patients do a lot worse, Zayne however clenched his jaw tighter.
He stood leaning against the wall, his arms folded as he watched Greyson re-stitch the wound, green eyes watching every minuscule movement. With a final snip of the scissors Greyson gave you a warm smile “All done” He said softly before re-dressing the wound and pulling your top back down before moving the covers back over you “And please, if you need something, just ask. It’s what we’re here for” He chided lightly, though in a gentle manner. You thanked him before watching as both he and Ivy left. It was quiet for a moment, the tension in the room palpable, as Zayne moved to sit on the chair next to you. You could tell he was mad, the temperature around him was icy “Zayne I-” You began, wanting to apologise but he quickly stopped you.
“What were you thinking Y/N?” He didn’t shout but his voice was a cold hard snap. He frowned and let out a long sigh when he saw how dejected you looked from his outburst “You’re still too vulnerable to be trying to push your body in any means” He continued though at a more gentle tone. You felt your own irritation begin to rise, frustration and tiredness starting to get the better of you and you couldn’t help but slightly snap back “Wanting to get my blanket to be warm isn’t exactly pushing myself. It was the middle of the night and I didn’t want to be a pain! It also gave me something to do briefly, I’m so damn bored stuck in here!” The rant came out of you before you could stop it, your breathing heavier by the time you were finished from the effort it took.
Zaynes eyes narrowed slightly as he frowned in indignation “I dug pieces of your broken ribs out of your heart Y/N! If you saw everything I had to piece back together maybe you’d think differently about acting so carelessly.” His words stung and you felt tears begin to well up in your eyes, but you knew he was right. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes to try and subdue his emotions “Boredom is the least of your problems right now. Any strain on your heart in this early stage of recovery could be fatal, do you understand?” You sniffed and nodded before you felt his gentle touch wipe your spilt tears away from your cheeks.
“I’m sorry… I just hate feeling so useless” Your voice felt small and quiet when you spoke, like a child that had just been reprimanded. You heard him sigh before he moved the over bed table back in front of you, the contents of the cups still steaming away beneath their plastic lids. “It isn’t being useless, it’s letting your body heal” He said simply, his voice albeit tired sounding had turned back to the more gentle resonance he only shared around you. Opening the bag up he reached inside before beginning to pull out a couple of neatly wrapped pastries and a small box of fresh fruit, pushing the fruit and a croissant in your direction as well as your drink. “As you shouldn’t be having caffeine for now, I took the liberty of getting you a hot chocolate” He reached in to the bag one more time before taking out a small box filled with little blueberry macarons, though held them out of your reach “For later” He gave you a pointed yet slightly teasing look “Only if you behave yourself.”
You couldn’t help but pout slightly at that though chose to hold your tongue, not wanting to start up an argument again as you took the lid off your drink so it would cool faster. You were allowed to have warm drinks but nothing that was too hot, purely because it could be uncomfortable for you when you swallowed. You didn’t complain at that, even something verging on the higher end of warm wasn’t too pleasant to swallow for now, you’d learnt that the hard way when Tara had visited and brought you some homemade soup. Cold things however didn’t affect you, they actually had a nice soothing effect to your inflamed insides so you were relishing in the fact that you could eat ice pops to your hearts content, and sometimes when alone, you had asked Zayne to place his hand over the wounds on your chest as his cooling touch was almost as good as morphine, almost.
The atmosphere quickly warmed back up between the two of you as you both ate your breakfast, talking about little things which was more you asking Zayne about any hospital gossip there was and how cold it was outside. He did mention that he had a few errands he needed to do today, but he would be back before you knew it. After you’d eaten he helped you with completing the last few crosswords in your puzzle book which brought it to the late morning, though your will to fight off sleep was rapidly dwindling as you yawned. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you did feel a gentle kiss placed on your forehead before hearing the door shut.
When you woke again it was to the sound of someone knocking, making you grumble as for once you’d been in a deep sleep and it took you a few moments to come round. Glancing towards the door you saw Ivy opening it “You have a visitor” She smiled and you slowly pushed yourself to sit more, the thought of Xavier or Rafayel coming to visit you making the last of your sleep vanish. Holding the door open she gestured for the person to come inside before letting the door close behind them. You’d been too preoccupied with trying to sort your sling out to give any notice to the person that came in, but when you heard the lock of the door click closed you froze, also realising that they hadn’t spoken to you yet.
You slowly looked round to see the back of a mans frame, confusion hitting you as you didn’t recognise anything about him “I’m sorry but I think you may have the wrong room” You said, eyes scanning his skinny frame noting the way his clothes hung off him as though they were a size too big. Your heart was beginning to beat faster, his hand was still lingering on the lock and as you looked more closely at it, you could see the top of it was covered with fresh, angry looking burns.
#love and deepspace#lads x reader#lads zayne#lads#lnds#zayne x reader#drama#zayne love and deepspace#zayne lads#lnds zayne
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just a random drabble i had to get out of my head
He knew a haunted day when he woke with a seething anger in the pit of his stomach and a hankering for a gun in his hands. Jaws had been clenched all night, lending to a headache which would inevitably morph into a migraine later. But it's ignored as he dresses and gathers his gun case from under the bed.
The darkness which shades otherwise bright but tired eyes hangs on his back, stiffens his shoulders like he hosts a parasite. The walk into the cold, fogged out morning barely phases him though he mounts his motorcycle. He'll need the noise unlike the silence his truck bestows.
If he had been a good man, she might be here.
A scowl furrows his countenance beneath the helmet, gloved hands squeeze the handlebars and he tries to breathe through this too familiar self-loathing. Try to think of something different, watching how light the traffic flows through the streets. Maybe he drives a bit recklessly than he normally ever would, but he's too consumed. Jaws relax, having clenched again and make the pain in his temples throb.
The range is fairly empty, but not without other patrons. The blonde wanders to the furthest lane and sets to work. Counting each bullet he loads into the mags, two of them, as he sees her smiling face. Blinking it away, clearing his throat, he places the glasses for safety.
Not that he deserved any. Not when he didn't think to run straight to her when everything went to absolute hell.
The hatred makes his lips quiver though the gun is entirely still in his grip, comfortable. This is what he'd been made for. A deep breath and he fires into the target far down the line, over and over. The recoil means nothing initially, just a sting to the fragile bones in his hands as he pulls again and again. A never ending line yet he can feel the heat building in the machine.
If you were a man worth your salt, you would've found her first.
Click, click. Unloading the empty mag for the full one, there's that reload motion and he's at it again with a disintegrating target. The scent of gunpowder drifts to him, the noise giving a sweet ring to his ears to numb out her screams and musical laughter.
If you'd been a good soldier, you'd have held her in your arms and hid away beneath the alien shadow of death. You would've huddled with her, foreheads together, to assure her against her fear.
There is a minor pause in the trigger pulls at the image of them huddled together replaced quickly with their first kiss to the first night they simply held one another after a long day.
If you were anything near a good man, she'd be here.
The sweat from the adrenaline and anger trickles down his spine, soaking his shirt. Wetting his lips, he tastes salty tears he didn't know he'd been crying. Pull pull pull pull, more and more fragments of the paper target fall away in the wake of the assault, confirmation and desperation. The cold slowly seeps around him as he shoots the last bullet, leading to the click before he sets down the hot gun on the table with am embarrassed sob.
Why couldn't it have died like every other living thing?
Head bows as tears flow more freely and he loses the fight to remain in control. Such a display was not. A hand comes to rub his scarred neck as he quietly weeps from the spent anger, frustration, fear, denial, yearning...and regret. Maybe he did all he could, even when it destroys him every day.
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Spared
Bloodhound x Reader
Warnings! Swearing, Violence
Might be a few errors here and there, still need to go through it properly!
Preparing for the drop every legend had a different pre-game ritual that helped get them in the zone before the beginning of every match, some more questionable than others such as Octane who uses the time for gaming, completely strange but I think it would be more concerning to see him sitting still or the likes of Revenant who always disappears before the drop, Mirage always says he’s away skinning something or doing something murderous. Bloodhound though they have always been a scary legend to come face to face with in battles, before every match they sit sharpening the edge of axe that they always carried along with them. Bloodhound always kept their cards close, never giving much away and I think that was the scariest part, being unpredictable. At least with Dr. Caustic you knew he wanted to watch you die a slow and painful death within his toxic gas.
My ritual before the drop was listening to music, eyes closed, I found it easier than talking to the people I was about to face off with in the arena - it made it easier to pull the trigger without hesitation.
As I let out sigh I took out my ear buds, knowing from experience the exact time of the drop, opening my eyes I was met with the blank stare of Bloodhounds mask from across the room the slight red glare that stained the glass looking right back at me.
I peeled my eyes away once the squads flashed up on the screen. “Race you to the LZ” Octane’s rang out from beside me as we stepped on the platform. I rolled my eyes at him.
“You know we don’t have to race if we are on the same team Silva” He was still jumping on the spot the sound of his legs clanking against the ground.
“Where’s the fun in that amigo?”
“Let’s break some circuits” Wattson giggled from the other side of me. “Man, I really need to get a phrase” I said, fixing the strap of my boot, before the floor began to open and we were lowered above the destroyed land of World’s Edge, a chaotic mix of the epicentre that lay thick with snow, the dome that was surrounded by deadly lava - making it all the more scarier to fight near it, one wrong move and you would be cooked.
Octane - the adrenaline junkie that he is decided that fragment west would be the best option. The most popular landing spots amongst old and new legends and the spectators favourite spot to see a quick bloodbath. But, luck was most defiantly not on my side today scouting two floors and still having no weapon was not ideal.
“I need a weapon” I said over the comms, sighing at all of the ammo that was one the floor but no gun.
“There’s a Mozambique here” Wattson’s voice came back over the comms.
“Hey! Isn’t that Chey’s line” Octane laughed. I picked up a few more syringes and cells before letting out a sigh followed by a quiet ‘dibs’. It was a good gun but nothing compared the dominant R-99 or the Volt, which judging by my luck the enemies would already be kitted with.
We moved to another building but it was long before the sound of footsteps sounded around us. “We’ve got friends here” I said quietly, a glimmer of luck started to appear when I found a hemlock of the lack of heavy ammo was disappointing.
Wattson had put up her fences, the loud sound of the burning electricity warned the enemies off slightly. I peaked through one of the barred windows, spotting wraith who was focused on another door of our building I took the shot but she was quick to phase away.
“Careful Horizon’s probably going to throw her ultimate over here” I warned my squad mates but Wattson quickly replied “I’ll take care of that”
“Wattson now!” I shouted as I seen newt being thrown towards us along with the deadly gas of caustic but luckily the pylon zapped them both down.
“Let’s go!” Octane yelled as he jammed the syringe into his leg before speeding off and we quickly followed, “Watch for traps Silva” I said, trying to catch up with him. I spotted Wraith trying to portal them out of the building, taking it back as she got the warning in her head. I quickly placed down on of my spike traps, pressure sensitive that once stepped on will send a deadly spike usually through the leg disabling the legend, which is exactly what it had down to Caustic as he was the next one to appear through the rift.
Quickly taking him out, not giving him a chance to put down one of his traps as he muttered a ‘damn you’. Focusing back on the other two, Octane was already pushing to the building along with Wattson and taking care of the rest of the squad.
Finally getting better loot, I started feeling more positive about the match until the sound of Bloodhounds scan and us being in range. “Shit” I whispered. “We need to move now!”
We scrambled back into the building, but Wattson had been took down by a triple take, I looked behind be to see the same stained red glass looking back at me as Bloodhound lifted their head from the scope of the sniper.
Quickly getting to work by putting down traps at the doors, taking a peak out of the barred window I quickly ducked back down as a bullet skimmed past my ear from the same gun that took Wattson out. I felt the blood from where the bullet grazed but my attention was diverted by the door across from me opening and then scream from Loba as the spike was deep in her leg, taking my chance I used the mastiff that I picked up from the other team to quickly end things.
One down, two to go.
“Careful Silva, Bloodhound has a triple take”
Rampart was the next of their squad to reveal herself as I heard the distant sound of a barrier being placed up along with Sheila’s red laser scanning the walls ready to shred someone apart.
“You’ve got to be kidding me” I groaned, just as another one of Bloodhound’s scan revealed us yet again.
“Can you distract them Silva?” Pulling out one of my most deadly traps, once it hit the ground it sends out a wave of spikes that usually without fail impales the enemy long enough for them to need to heal and just the perfect amount of time for me to take them amount.
There was silence from Silva before I seen the green flash of him flying across the other building from his jump pad, that must be the distraction. I quickly snuck out of the building as I heard them both firing at the adrenaline junkie, quickly pulling the pin of the trap with my teeth, I tossed it in the middle of the pair. Octane had went down because of being lasered with Sheila. Getting closer I finished off Rampart, but as I was about to search for Bloodhound, they found me.
The scary roar of his beast of the hunt sounded out.
Shit
Making a run for it, I didn’t get very far before a bullet got me right in the stomach, wheezing out for air at the sudden impact. Pulling myself up, my back leaning against the wall, the hunter came closer just like a predator stalking their prey.
They bend down in front of me but as I waited for them to put me out of my misery I felt a hand caress my cheek, confusion washed over me. The hand moved to ghost over the tried blood that had trailed down the side of area and followed the trail on to my neck, goose bumps appearing after every touch. “You fought well, felagi fighter” My heart was thumping, they were so close it was almost making me forget that I was basically bleeding out, which I eventually did but the comfort from the hound made it less painful.
_____________________________
Waking up in the respawn chambers up, I sat up with haste but immediately feeling the pain in my abdomen which made all of the events from the match flood back to me. Did I imagine it? Did it really happen?”
Then it came to me.
Making my way to the control room, where the cameras got all the footage the process of editing and making sure it’s ready to be aired to the spectators. I knocked on the door waiting for a response before the door flew open.
“Hey Ezekiel, can you get me my body camera footage from the last match” He looked at me with a tilt of his head”
“Sur- is everything ok?” He asked, looking at me with concern.
“Yeah, I just missed a few shots and want to review the footage in training” He nodded before turning around and handing me a USB.
“Thank you, appreciate it”
Taking the drive and heading to my room before plugging it in and clicking on the file with my name labelled on it. Skipping all of the footage until I got to the last fight. It did happen and I didn’t imagine it, I closed the screen of the laptop before biting my nail trying to think of what I should do.
Was I overthinking everything? But they didn’t kill me. They should have, like they had done to both of squad mates.
“Hey Anita, have you seen Bloodhound?” The solider was sat down with one of the weapon manuals that was lying around the communal area, building on her already extensive knowledge of every weapon to ever be created.
“Last time I seen them was in the training yard” I gave a quick nod. “Thanks, Anita”
“You’re welcome FNG” Pausing as I looked at her. “I’m not the new one anymore, you said you’d stop calling me that”
She shrugged at me “It took you long enough to figure out what it meant, you think I am just going to let that go”
I rolled my eyes at her mumbling ‘funny’, followed by a laugh from Anita “You’re right it is” She always loved when people didn’t follow her military talk, it meant she could basically speak in her own language without anyone knowing it was meant to make fun of them.
Making my way to the training yard I pushed the door open, there was few other legends training but everyone usually kept well spaced apart because nobody wanted to get dropped in the training yard, that would be embarrassing.
I spotted the tall frame of the hound, they were on one the last rows.
Stopping behind them as the Raven’s bite axe flew to the target landing right on the dummy’s heart, I swallowed. Quickly putting my fear aside before I looked like an idiot just standing ther-
“How can I assist you?” Their voice rang out. Of course Bloodhound already new I was here, walking to the target they collected their axe finally looking at me as they walked back to their original standing position.
“Ah- I just wanted to ask you something” I said, trying to look anywhere but at the intense gaze that was starting back at me. They nodded, giving me the go ahead to continue.
“Why didn’t you kill me” I asked
“Did you want me to kill you?” They asked, sounding almost puzzled. I let out a sigh “No- I don’t mean it like tha-” I stopped myself, feeling like an idiot I should have just left it alone.
Bloodhound tilted their head “You know, never mind- it doesn’t matter” but as I was about to walk off i felt a hand on my wrist, stopping me suddenly. “If it is bothering you, tell me” Bloodhound came closer, the close proximity throwing me off once again.
“Like you did with Wattson and Octane” I paused for a second trying to ignore how close they were to me and gather my thoughts “You took them right out, with no mercy- but you waited with me”
“I didn’t want you to suffer” They spoke, the hand came up to push my hair behind my ear, revealing the small stitches on the top of my ear caused from the triple take bullet. The same movement had that they had done in the match brought back the same feelings, causing me to hold my breathe trying to keep my composure.
Their hand moved to my stomach grazing over the same area of where they had shot me. “The same reason I shot you here, because it would only wind you and the pain would be minimal”
The touch sent Goosebumps all over my body, my heart hammering in my ears as I looked up at Bloodhound. “Why” I whispered, both of us lost in the moment because we had managed to get even closer barely any space between our bodies.
“You are special, the Allfather has blessed me with you” Their thumb tracing over my bottom lip then falling to my jaw tracing the few dotted cuts on it slowly, “that is why I could not kill you”
#Apex Legends#apex#apex legends x reader#bloodhound#bloodhound x reader#gender netural#apex imagines#bloodhound imagine#apex bloodhound
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For the meta ask: 8, 10, and 14. Inquiring minds want to know!
8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?
I think I can safely say everything I like to write, I also like to read. But there are a number of things I like to read that I don’t feel capable of writing; long plotty fics and complicated politics/court intrigue are probably at the top of the list of things I love reading but cannot write. I also enjoy reading a broader range of pairings and fandoms than I’m confident in writing.
10. How would you describe your writing process?
*insert chaos emoji here*
Get a plot bunny, which may be anywhere from a detailed plot outline to a general concept that’s mostly vibes. Occasionally an idea will strike with such immediacy that I sit down that day and bang it out start to finish in one session, but usually I have to let the idea percolate for a while. Spend some time going for long walks and listening to appropriate music while brainstorming, usually start coming up with some lines during this phase. Sit down and get those lines down on paper (or rather in a notes document) and try to keep going from there. I write out of order a lot; if I’m being semi-disciplined I might be jumping around within a scene or be working from the beginning on a few different scenes, but often I’m completely all over the place, and then I write from one fragment to another until all the pieces connect. Probably set the document aside at some point as I get distracted by other WIPs, sometimes for weeks or months at a time. I tend to be juggling as many as half a dozen “active” WIPs at a time, and a greater number of backburner WIPs and percolating unwritten ideas. If the fic is for an exchange or otherwise on a specific deadline, probably panic the night before deadline and finish in a burst of adrenaline-fueled hyperfocus. If not, eventually come back enough times to get it all done somehow.
14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?
Whenever I can! Sometimes I have a title before I have a single word of prose down, other times I’ll have the entire fic complete and be flailing to come up with a title so I can get it posted. I always come up with at least a working title when I create a document for a fic, and sometimes those working titles become final titles even when they weren’t intended to, but sometimes they’re just descriptors like “BJT Fusion” or “Omegaverse Ridiculousness” that really aren’t suitable as actual titles.
From these writing asks.
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Rebel King
Dominic hid in the parklike green space that separated the Halls Norton and Amber from the rest of the campus, but he couldn’t stay here long. It was meant to emulate the green spaces of Cambridge where Students could escape the radiant heat and public works could be tastefully concealed by bushes. It was a popular place for art galleries and yoga sessions. It was one of the few places to hide and he could be easily surrounded here. He just needed a moment to catch his breath. Running up the stairs from the ceremony, fighting Tjark, and then fleeing here, all at breakneck speeds stressed even his stamina. This was only the first leg of his journey. He had to save strength. He took slow deep breaths, leaning on a massive oak tree and listened. He could hear distant shouting and the voices were growing louder. He’d shot several people and now was going to be his only chance of escape for a while. This little rest was enough and all he would be getting. It was time to move. He chose to direct himself perpendicular to the voices. With luck, they would run right past him. He kept himself low to the ground and broke into a jog.
His foot suddenly caught and something pulled hard at his shin. It was as though he were lassoed. The noose tightened hard around his ankle and he heard his pants tear. He tried to keep himself from falling but then his other foot was caught and he fell face first into the dirt. He groaned, the wind knocked out of him. Cutting pain burned into his lower legs. The moonlight reflected off two invisible filaments stretched between two trees. How could she still be alive? Rage filled him. He had shot her pointblank in the chest! She should be dead, bleeding out on the floor of Amber Hall!
He looked up in fury at the woman who stepped out from behind a tree. Her long thin form was like a ninja. She moved in complete silence. He heard she trained in Japan with a family of covert operatives and it certainly showed. She knew he would be here and she just waited. He could see where the bullet had shredded the uniform right over where her heart should be. Sylke. He hated her. She never wanted to hurt him, only stop him or slow him down. She was effective with a monofilament weapon, long invisible threads that she kept hidden on her wrists. The strings themselves weren’t deadly but he had run into them and blood was soaking his socks. At the right tension, she could have severed his legs completely. Still, he climbed to his feet and staggered towards her.
“You can’t run.” She said softly. “So now you're going to fight me? Adrenaline is dulling the pain but those cuts are going to need stitches.”
Where were the other traps? If she had anticipated he would come here, then she had to have set more. He stopped and looked around for them but those ultrafine, ultra strong fibers were nearly impossible to see in the dark without the aid of rain or fog. Like spidersilk, you didn’t see them until they were right in front of you.
She was looking at him with wide, concerned eyes. “You need to stop, Dominic. You can’t escape here.”
She didn’t have a weapon he could see, but that didn’t mean anything. She was adept at hand to hand combat. Now that she was closer, he could tell that she was wearing a protective vest so he couldn’t shoot her easily. He could try for a headshot but that might miss. Her reflexes were on par with his, lightning quick and without thought. He took a step back. He’d already triggered the trap behind him, so that area was safe.
“Dominic… please. You don’t even know where you are. You know you’re not on the island any more. But you’re not even in Europe. You’re in the United States,” she said, still not moving.
The United States? He fell asleep on the island monastery and woke up in a hotel, then he was told to get dressed and show up at this campus with other people his age. Everywhere he looked he saw luxury and yet he felt threatened. He didn’t know where he was or why he was here, only that the purpose was to slay dragons. This place was Cassell College and he’d been enrolled here for unclear reasons. All he could do was pay as close attention to his surroundings as possible with a view of escaping. He knew there was a train. He could follow the tracks out. Then he could find an embassy and hopefully sanctuary back to the Netherlands.
She was still talking, but she was smart enough to keep her distance. He always attacked when people got close to him. If he could land a good hit, he could escape. He was still armed with that black alchemy sword. It was at his side and he had demonstrated that he could use it without getting corrupted by its power. “Do you think your father would leave you some place you could escape? The only reason you’re here now is because he couldn’t hold you any more.”
He looked up. A sturdy branch was right above him. It was a little far out of reach, but he could use the adjacent tree to jump off of and reach it.
“Dominic!” She lunged for him.
He jumped towards the adjacent tree, and pushed off from that trunk and hooked his hands around the branch, as nimble as a gymnast. He swung as far as he could, hoping to overshoot any more traps, and then hit the ground and rolled. He got up, hopping on his painfully wounded ankles and broke through the cover of the trees, leaving a trail of blood. He was limping badly and wouldn’t get very far at this rate. He still had his gun but he didn’t know how many bullets he had left.
He ran into an open courtyard. A large building was in front of him with a series of steps in front that lead to a bike rack. There were no lights on in the building, the windows were boarded up. It was open air, but no one was around.
Sylke followed him but didn’t try to touch him as he headed for a motorized scooter that was not secured to the rack. “You’re not listening. Our family is full of people with weak and useless genes. You’re the most powerful person we have in our family. That’s why you’ve been able to completely overpower everyone. But that’s not the case here. People here are your equal, and probably a few are above you. If you keep acting out like this… I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
Dominic reached the scooter and leaned on it, no keys, no way to turn it on. His ankles were stinging him badly now and Sylke was being so annoying. She was no better than anyone else. She was part of the system that held him captive and she dared act like she cared about what happened to him? He swung the scooter at her head like a baseball bat and knocked her to the ground. He looked down at her coldly unmoved by her so-called concern. Until now, he wasn’t going to waste another bullet on her. But he’d switched past trying to escape now. He pulled his pistol and fired once. This time striking her in the head. She was still and a stain of red rolled past her temple. But she was still breathing, her skull didn’t break apart. Bullet fragments had shattered instead. The ammunition wasn’t lethal! He smashed the pistol to the ground and it broke apart. She had tricked him, even at the last!
If that was the way it was going to be, then he might as well just use his sword and slit her throat while she was down. He reached for the hilt of the sword to draw it and as soon as he gripped it it felt like holding on to a live wire! It’s power overcame him for a moment and he had to forcibly regain control of his body. He gasped for air for a second.
“Your Royal Highness!” A man was coming towards him, waving jovially.
This guy. Of course he’d be here. The most competent fighter he’d ever come in contact with, over six feet tall and just about as wide. And yet he was still wearing that Cassell Uniform. Was it custom made? Wouldn’t surprise him at all. The man was built like a tank. This living wall of muscles was smiling at him. “You really are something. Let’s go back. I’ll take a look at your legs.”
He hated this man more than he hated Sylke. Even if Dominic was uninjured, this guy was extremely hard to land hits on, and the hits he landed barely phased him. He suddenly regretted smashing the pistol. He could have used it against this guy.
“Look if you want to take it out on me, you know I can take it,” He said, opening his arms. “Go ahead.”
Why would he do that when he could just kill Sylke? He wasn’t going to get out of here anyway, one less guardian would give him a better chance later on. He took a step forward and drew the sword, as though taking him up on his offer, only to spin on the ball of his foot and strike downwards.
The tip of the black blade clanged off another metal blade. Dominic only had time to look up into a furious blue gaze before a fist cracked against his eye socket, blinding him and knocking him back. He tilted backwards and staggered, nearly falling down the hard concrete stairs.
“No way to treat a lady,” a voice snarled.
Dominic could only see stars but his body knew how to get his balance. He scrambled to back up, open some distance between him and this new attacker. He raised his arm up to block an attack he knew was coming but it hit hard enough to bruise the bone.
“Royal Highness huh? What kind of monarch tries to kill their own subjects?” The frigid voice came again.
Still stunned, Dominic danced to one side and the air stirred next to his ear. And he caught the scent of tobacco and alcohol. His vision cleared. A blond haired man with icy blue eyes was fighting him completely shirtless and was still far too close for comfort. Dominic had lost the blade under the assault and was now completely unarmed. The best he could do was cross his arms to take the boneshattering blows that were coming at him. Even though this person looked to be his age, the force of his strikes reminded him of his false father’s silverwood cane.
The six-foot tall body builder came to his aid, grabbing the other man by the shoulder and pushing him away. “Enough! This doesn’t concern you.”
The shirtless man’s gaze was without temperature. “It concerns me when a man tries to kill an unconscious woman.”
“Sylke knows the risks.” The bodybuilder man held out his hand. “The name’s Gerrit! I’m a freshman. We’re from the Netherlands.”
The man’s eyes flicked between Gerrit and Dominic in angry confusion. Dominic figured that if he strayed too far from Gerrit, this man would attack him again and he was frankly, too worn out to fight or run any more. Taking up the sword took more out of him than he expected.
The man finally relaxed and shook Gerrit’s hand. “Caesar Gattuso.”
“Gattuso! The famous family from Italy.” He chuckled jovially. “Don’t worry about us. We’re used to Dominic’s behavior. I can understand while you’re alarmed though.”
A sudden thunder of footsteps was coming closer and closer. Men with pistols surrounded Caesar and Dominic and Gerrit. “Hands in the air! The use of firearms and alchemy weapons are strictly forbidden! Hands in the air! Now!”
Dominic looked down at his bloody torn pant legs. He could practically feel his eye swelling shut. He was probably bruised up from his fall in the woods as well. He wasn’t getting out of here tonight. Just like little miss Sylke said. But now he was curious. She said these people were his equal and may even surpass him right? This was a place he couldn’t escape from, according to her. What would they even do to him? It couldn’t be worse than the terrible beatings he’d received at the monastery, could it? If they killed him, wouldn’t that be a sort of escape? And then that way, even his parents would be free from threat.
Gerrit raised his hands. “Please calm down, the young master is unarmed you see?”
The barrel of a gun was shoved into Gerrit’s face. “You shut up!”
Dominic turned away from the officers of the disciplinary committee. “Do your worst.”
For a moment, no one moved. The words weren’t said with any bravado or pride. They were soft but everyone heard them in the empty hall. The members of the disciplinary committee were suddenly wondering what their ‘worst’ was. He wasn’t holding up his hands. They had to do something. The leader cleared his throat and raised his gun again. “What is your Student number! If you don’t comply you will face demerits!”
“Hey!” A sharp female voice shouted. “What are you doing? It’s not midnight yet. So it’s still technically Freedom Day right?”
The loud clocktower on the campus suddenly started to toll. A red haired woman had approached the fray in nothing but her bathing suit. The disciplinary students' eyes went wide and filled with the sight of her voluptuous figure in full view. “Nothing he did was against the rules. Things got a little rough but everyone’s injuries are minor. Are you really that quick to go back to work?”
The crowd of Disciplinary committee members suddenly lowered their guns and scratched their heads, red in the face.
Nono approached him and hooked her arm in his. “Come on, the party is still rocking.”
“Freedom day?” Dominic had no idea what she was talking about. But apparently on Freedom Day it was okay to shoot people.
“How hard did you hit him?” The red haired woman looked into his eyes a little closer.
“To be frank, I was trying to knock him unconscious.” Caesar rotated his wrist. “His head was harder than I expected.” His smile had returned but his eyes were still filled with that cold fire. He left Dominic with Nono and went to check on Sylke.
“I can get you patched up in Amber Hall…” She whispered with a knowing grin. “You don’t want to be around these guys do you?”
Dominic’s heart suddenly lifted. This was the first time since his father’s stabbing his kidnapper that someone had actually offered to help him escape. They were just turning away from the scene when there was a loud clearing of the throat right next to him. The shadow of Gerrit blocked out the light of the overhead lamps and a heavy hand laid on his shoulder. “I think we’ll be taking care of him.”
“And you are?” Nono looked up at him with innocent eyes.
“Gerrit. We’re long time friends.” That heavy hand tightened on his shoulder. “Right?”
Nono looked him in the eyes. “Do you want to go with them? Say it. Yes or no.”
Gerrit suddenly spoke in Dutch. “You know what could happen if your father calls and you don’t answer. The people who raised you are alive because you cooperated.”
Dominic’s ears were ringing and a cold feeling spread down his spine. He let go of Nono. Gerrit beamed. “There’s a good lad!” he said gently. “We'll take care of his injuries!”
He froze. Nono looked him right in the eyes with a fiery gaze. Gerrit coughed. “I’m sorry, we’ll join your party another time ya?”
Nono crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. “Ya. Sure you will.”
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Follower Celebration Story:
As promised, here is the follower celebration story! Thank you very, very much to everyone who sent in words for this. The only word I received a double of was safe, so it will be bolded twice in the story. If I use one of the other words more than once, it will only be bolded the first time. (For those wondering why the word chart is bolded, it was so I could keep track of what words I had and hand’t used while I was writing.)
The word chart:
Feckless, Umbrella, indifference, attentive, vaguely, archetype, diorama, vermilion, Lone, family, angelic, Sally, Safe x 2, Sound, Passion, Adore, Desire, sky, storm, bracelet, resilient, amber, peeling, fangs, fur, claws, abide, lessen, Dynasty, shots, bogwater, Window, Map, Tower, bruschetta, petrichor, disastrous, anachronistic, ethereal, fury, misty, charcoal, greenery, bleach, crown, stuff.
Keep an eye out for the bolded words as you go!
Warnings: This piece does include death, bones, a fight scene, a little bit of blood, but nothing in gory detail. I hope you all enjoy the piece, I had a great time writing this one and am proud of how it turned out =D
~
The air was thick with the scent of petrichor, and the sky laid heavy with storm clouds, preparing for their second bout of rain. I clutched at my umbrella as I watched the grays of the sky mix with the misty whites that clung to the forest greenery. A terrible day to be the lone traveler.
Gods know if it wasn’t so important I would have stayed home, safe and sound, by the warmth of my hearth. But no. I had to be out, running errands for the crown.
A sigh slipped from my lips. No point in complaining about it. I just had to rise to the occasion and sally forth, into the disgusting swampland and get this over with. The sooner I finished the mission, the sooner I could return to my family.
The trudge through the bogwater and vines would have destroyed a less resilient person. Every step felt like I was being swallowed by the mud. The mist dulled the senses and rendered my map useless. For a long while, I was not sure if I was walking in a straight line or a winding path. The only thing that helped guide me at all was the occasional trees I would stumble into, damp with moss and thin bark practically peeling off at the slightest touch.
That was the first sign to me that I was on the right path. Or rather, that this path led to something terribly wrong, just as I had been told. The confirmations came steadily after the trees started feeling sickly. The mist darkened first and then the water did. Both of them blackened until they matched the color of charcoal, all the while the water slowly thickened to a paste. All were tells of something disastrous, indeed.
Time seemed to lose it’s meaning in that place. There was nothing to indicate that it was moving at all, aside from the appalling squelching of my own boots and our seemingly endless battle with the mud. I think I would have gone mad without it, to be frank. Everything seemed to be attempting to rob me of my senses, drain me of my mind. Had I been out there much longer, it may have succeeded.
However, I found the edge of the black mist before it found the edge of my will. There are no words to describe how absolutely delighted I was to realize that it was thinning, waning. Every fragment of my being had the great desire to see anything besides the deep darkness that seemed to be devouring me.
I rushed forward with all my speed, sending the dark mud spraying with each heavy step. When I broke out of the mist, my feet hit solid ground and my eyes met with hints of color. The dark greens of moon-kissed grass, the dim twinkle of distant starts, pale stones scattered in the distance, and the grayed silhouette of a great tower.
A broad smile pulled onto my face as I laughed. The joy, however, was short lived as I stepped forward and onto something that cracked underfoot. My gaze traveled downward only to meet the empty eye socket of a bleached skull. Dread formed a pit in my stomach as I looked up from the bones I was standing on and took a closer look at the rest of the pale ‘stones’. None, in fact, were rocks, but rather... bones.
I tread lightly as I moved from skeleton to skeleton. Elves, dwarves, humans, male, female, it all varied greatly. The only thing that did not seem to was the terrible cracks and violent tears in the bones themselves. Something powerful did this. Something without mercy nor remorse.
I swallowed thickly, straightening my cloak before turning my gaze to the tower. My bet was, was the monster responsible for this lived in there, and likely was in possession of my true objective.
I forced myself to the side of indifference as I stepped past those unfortunate enough to have come before me and towards the tower itself. There was nothing I could do for them now, save perhaps vengeance. And I got the feeling that if I wanted to make it back home, safe and sound, then I would have no choice but to get these people their revenge.
The tower itself was not the largest I had ever seen, but it was certainly one of the more ornate. Statues depicting mighty beasts sat defiantly on either side of the iron wrought doors, both far from angelic in visage. I did not answer their challenge, at least, not immediately. Instead, I took my time to wander around the perimeter, attempting to get an idea of what I was to face.
The place was peculiar. Almost anachronistic, if I were to put a word to it. The stone work was of ancient designs, almost the very archetype of them. The craftsmanship was similar only to the oldest of the temples in the land, but seemed as fresh as if it were built yesterday. The wild rose vines growing around it, however, were the very embodiment of ancient ruin. Gnarled and unkempt. Some of them even went so far in their defiance of the tower’s perfection to dig into the stones where they were weakest.
A flash of movement in a window caught my attention, but was gone by the time my eyes had focused in one it. I cursed myself for not being more attentive. It could have been an enemy with a bow, and I would have been doomed. There would have been no dodging such shots unaware from this distance. Thankfully, it had not been, but I believed it was safe to say that I had lost any element of surprise I may have once had.
A deep sigh escaped me as I turned my gaze up to the ethereal glow of the moon. There was no time left, it seemed.
I returned to the stone beasts and walked past them to the entrance. Their silent snarls were lost to me as I pushed past the great doors and into the depths of the tower itself. I was greeted with what felt like yet another rift in time, as the interior of the tower was in great disrepair.
The vermilion carpet was torn and worn down, blood stains long turned brown and rotted in places. Paintings had fallen from the walls, their pictures long faded and frames cracked. There were great claw marks and gouges in the walls and scraps across the dulled flooring. Ruined furniture littered the rooms as I stalked through them, clutching tightly at my staff.
It was hard to discern exact shapes among the mounds of ruined stuff. I would freeze into place anytime I saw something even vaguely shaped like a beast or a person. By the third or forth room, I was contemplating casting a light spell, but the risk of drawing attention to myself was more than I could abide. Not when it seemed as though something within these walls had a passion for death and destruction.
After clearing the first floor, I slowly made my way up the old staircase. There were moments when I feared it would not hold my weight, but it thankfully held firm. I winced at every groan and creak of the decaying wood, however, and prepared myself for a battle.
But the battle did not come. I arrived safely at the landing of the second floor, and found nothing more than I did on the first floor. Then the third, and the forth, until I reached the fifth floor, where time and reality again seemed to be removed from the tower’s presence. And it was here that I sensed what I had come for as waves of magic energy ebbed down through the halls and to the stairs where I stood.
The carpet was a darker red, in one piece and untouched by time, only one of the tapestries were torn through with claws, paintings remained hanging, the furniture was whole, everything seemed as it should, except not at all.
Sparks of magic flitted through the air, casting ominous glows as I checked the floor, room by room. They were dark colors, and almost made crying noises as they phased in and out of existence. Many people mistook such things as spirits of some sort, but they were truly just extra magic that the fabric of reality could not absorb. Nothing to fear themselves, but usually they were the signs that something that should be feared was near.
In the last room, I found the most curious thing. There was a pedestal with a bracelet upon it, my goal, I assumed. It was a plain, silver one, no markings or jewels of any kind, but the magic energy I felt from it was dizzying. Lesser mages would have fallen to their knees long before they reached this room, but I was not the court mage for nothing.
After claiming my prize, and sealing it within an enchanted bag to contain it’s power, I spotted something even more odd. On an end table in the corner was what appeared to be a diorama of the tower itself. I admit that my curiosity got the better of me, beckoning me to have a look. It seemed to be a perfect scale model, everything laid out as I had found it so far, but it didn’t take me long to notice something truly unsettling.
A little figurine... shaped just like me was standing in the corner of the room, and moving, actually moving, was another figurine, shaped like a monster I had never heard of. Not only was it moving, it was moving down the hallway of the floor I was on, heading straight for this room.
Fear and adrenaline rushed through my veins as I desperately searched for an escape, or at least a hiding place, but neither were available in this room. I was at the very end of the hall, and I could hear the scraping of claws coming for me. With flight not longer open to me, I turned to face the door, raising my staff as I began to call upon the magic within me.
“Poor, little, feckless mage,” a deep, growling voice seemed to sing from within the darkness of the hall, “You adore a dying age. The queen’s dynasty shall end, and another will begin.”
I held the spell, waiting for it to come into view. The little motes of magic flashed in the hall from time to time, illuminating shadows and small flashes, but nothing solid enough for me to know my strike would land true. Then, I saw them, the terrible amber eyes.
I flung the bolt of ice at it’s head, but it leaped over it and into the room. It was a massive creature, with fangs and claws to match. Pale fur bristled as it laughed, laughed at me.
“My turn,” it purred, sung, whatever one would call that horrifying voice.
Then, it came at me with fury enough to give dragons pause. It took every, single bit of my training and experience with battle to so much as lessen the deep wounds it tore into me. I kept the jaws at bay with my staff, or what little of it remained after it took the full force of the first bite. The claws cut through my robes like they were nothing, and aided it in pinning me to the floor. But not even it’s massive bulk could save it at this distance.
I put my hand to it’s exposed belly and drew on not only my own magics, but those that were floating aimlessly around the both of us. And I set fire to the wretched creature. It shrieked with pain and wrath as it thrashed and rolled. I followed up with lightening and ice and then more fire. It came charging at me, fangs and fury and bloodlust, but I conjured a wall of magic between the two of us that it slammed into.
“I am the court mage of these lands!” I shouted as the monster wailed in rage. “And you shall pay dearly for the blood you have spilled and the wicked deeds you have committed here.”
And then, the room went white with the explosion of magic that rattled the tower to it’s core. There was the scream of the monster and then the howl of shattering, collapsing stonework.
The walk back was far more pleasant than the walk to the tower, even if I was sorer for it. Between the deep tears the creature left in me, and the bruises and cracked rib I got from the collapse of the tower itself, I felt lousy and just wanted a hot plate of bruschetta, a warm bath, a healer, and some sleep. Frankly, I was beyond caring about which order those came in. But, first thing was first, I had to get back to the castle to have the ruinous bracelet destroyed before it caused the world anymore troubles....
~
Submitter taglist: @1-2-butter-my-shoe, @the960writers, @ducky-writez, @candy687, @silver-wields-a-pen, @whiteomorox, @hyba, @ratherinterestingmilkshake, @bookenders, @leave-her-a-tome, @likelyfantasywriterspsychic, @kaatiba, @aziz-writes, @somethingreallydeepandprofound, @montevena, And, last but certainly not least, @innocentreticent.
Thank you all again! This was quite the challenge and I had a blast working my way through it ^-^ This story wouldn’t have been possible without your combined and creative word choices.
Short story taglist, because this still counts for that: (You may ask to be added to/ removed from my taglists at any time. Just let me know )
@wemitodd, @greenwood-writes, @elkatheinkstained, @n1ghtcrwler, @writingiswilde, @say-no-to-negativity, @dawnscribbles, @silvertalonwriteblr, @inspiring-prompts, @dawnoftheagez, @likelyfantasywriterspsychic, @orphicodysseywrites, @mischiefiswritten, @nemowritesstuff
#short story#original story#fantasy#angst#fiction#dark fantasy#high fantasy#My writing#follower celebration#a story by Ren#writeblr#this was a fun one#I'm glad I did this#tw death#tw blood
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Muse Prequel: Warden
Drifting in and out of consciousness, the last thing he could hear was a loud explosion before passing out entirely leaving him in darkness. It was as if time stood still yet moved at the same time, he could hear muffled voices everywhere, as well feel a tugging sensation at his arms and legs as if he were being lifted only to subside moments later. There was a long pause of nothing before he felt wind on his face and the smell of oncoming rain filled his nose.
Though not fully awake, his ears twitched at the sound of a rain drop hitting... water? Actually it started to feel like that the world was slowly rocking back and forth, but that couldn't be possible, could it? More rain droplets started to fall slowly speeding up and increasing in numbers. A few fell on his nose causing it to twitch. He let out a groan; the type you'd make getting out of bed in the morning, before opening his eyes being met with a dark and grey cloudy sky. He finally sat upright and began to familiarize himself with his surroundings.
Water. Water was everywhere as far as the eye could see with no land insight. How did he get here? He examined what was bellow him and notied he was sitting in a boat. There weren't any oars so rowing wasn't an option, all he could do was wait and hope someone would eventually find him. There had to be someone who knew he was out here.
The rain continued to pour, completely soaking his fur and his clothes. He didn't know how long he'd been out here, or how long he was going to be out here, once again all he could do was wait. With nothing better to do he took a peek over the boat and looked into the ocean below him and for the first time he noticed the water was shifting between shades of black and white, completely contrasting the completely grey sky. Curiously he stuck his hand in the water. It was cold yet felt like... static? Like the feeling you'd get when your arm would fall asleep mixed with the static of an old TV.
Suddenly there was an sinking feeling in his stomach, something didn't feel right. Then on pure instinct he jerked his hand away from the water and fell back info the boat making it heavily rock back and forth. The rainy sky began to rumble as thunder and lighting could be seen sparking in the clouds waiting to strike down onto the ocean below, the waves in the ocean became more violent and the boat was becoming more and more unstable.
All this chaos happening in the span of a few moments was horrifying to him, was it because he touched the water? That didn't matter now, all he need to do was survive. Quickly held onto the side of the boat, shifting his weight to keep it from turning over and throwing him into the raging waters beneath him.
He had managed to keep the boat somewhat steady, but he could tell his grip was weakening with the constant splashes of water to his face and the waves increasing in intensity. After another chilling splash of water hit his face he looked up, and there was someone sitting on the other end of the boat. Where did they even come from and how did he not notice them until now? The more he looked there more he began to realize they were covered in all black like a silhouette, sitting there calmly as this chaos continued around them. He was about to question the mysterious figure before his gazed focused on what was behind them. There stood, threatening to crash down onto the boat was a giant tsunami sized wave. His eyes widened and his life flashed before him as the wave came down hard on them with loud crash!
There he was, completely submerged in the dark water unable to breathe. He writhed and thrashed in the water desperately trying to claw his way up back to the surface of the water, but it was no use. The more he tried to swim the further the surface would get and the more he'd sink. He blinked as something came into view, it was the same figure that was in the boat with him, reaching out it's hand. Desperate to live he reach out his hand and took hold of the figure's hoping it would somehow save him from drowning.
Despite not having any features the silhouette seemed to smile or express some form of happiness, before phasing and entering his body through the arm. A searing pain came from his arm as the darkness of the figure visibly flowed through his veins. It traveled through his shoulder entering his neck and spreading into the rest of his body, oddly enough despite the pain he was able to breathe now despite bein surrounded by water. He clawed and scratched at his face as it finally made its way into his head. This gave him a splitting headache as he let out an in audible scream. He swore his head was going to explode before he unwilling let out a chuckle, at the same time his head began to settle down, but something felt wrong. It was what could only be described as, in fragments. This thought, this feeling, the fact he had escaped death, it all came rushing through him like an adrenaline boost of joy.
He chuckled once again, and again, and again, before bursting out into inaudible cackling and laughter it all seemed to just bubble up inside him. He couldn't compose or contain himself, it was all so halarious what was there not to laugh about. He wasn't scared anymore, he wasn't suffering anymore, he was happy. Maliciously happy. There was one last rumble before a bolt of Thunder came barreling through the water hitting him directly.
"GAAAH!!!" with a yelp he finally woke up, breathing heavily and hold his chest as his heart was racing.
"S-Sir, please calm down!"
A mobian dressed in hospital attire stood next to him, monitoring his health this whole time.
"W-wha?" His head was spinning, was it all a dream? Was he on land? Was he safe?
"Sir it's okay, you were in an explosion but we managed to rescue you with no severe damages. You're in a hospital, I've been watching monitoring your health this whole time. It's good to see you're awake."
"O-oh...oh... th-thank you." So it was a dream, he wasn't stranded in the middle of the ocean? Well that was a major relief. The mobian soon left to go report to the other staff, he nodded as they left. "That was sure something hectic. The ocean, the storm, and that... thing. What happened?" He let out and sigh and shook his head, there was no use in thinking about it now, at least he was safe. Still, something felt off about him, like something changed. He didn't know what but it was something. He decided to lay back and just stare at the ceiling, not wanting to go back to sleep. He let out a sigh before laying there in silence.
~Prologue End~
#sonic idw#new muse#prequel story#insanity au#warden#yoshidda#this is the longest thing i've ever written it took so long#hope this was a good introduction into my muse
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Originally this was supposed to be an audio file uploaded directly to Tumblr to read alongside the written text, but it turns out the file is too big to upload, so here’s the dropbox link to listen to it instead. As always, be sure to listen with headphones. Warning: this mp3 contains loud noises and several moments of ringing frequencies. Listen at your own discretion.
Rung to the Case
~
Gentle. The soft, muffled patterns of the sky’s waters tickled the foundation of the apartment in glistering texture along the bricks of rooftop asphalt and masonry. The clouds coated the sky in a deep, tender grey just enough to conceal the brightest rays of the sun. A vacancy, shrouded in shadow. It was no less average than what the lost neighborhood was accustomed to. Rainy days made their pass more often than bright ones. A common gloom turned to a normality in society.
Dull, and tiresome.
That’s what she had thought this mission was. The retrieval of a briefcase, how important? It was unspecified. Granted, the idea of curiosity and wonder as to the importance of this special satchel sparked a sense of invigoration, however, the course of the journey to its recovery seemed harrowingly mindful of itself. There was no Combine on guard except for the normal patrol of Civil Protection in the usual areas they found themselves en-route. It was no less difficult than getting yourself in a fatuous beating with any unit of overwatch.
As she entered one of the various upper-floor kitchens of the hotel, she noted to the case’s mild weight. It was enough to be held by one hand, however, it was quite cumbersome in pain to her wrist. Shaking it ever so slightly spawned a slight jumble of belongings inside. She kept her shakings of curiosity to a minimum in order to preserve the potentially extraordinary belongings which were encased inside the large item of matter.
She had been given orders to return to base after the immediate extraction of the briefcase. Perhaps assigning such a task to someone of history with strong inquisitiveness wasn’t of the best choice. Certainly, that would turn out to be the source of her forthcoming quandary.
As she set the large case onto the table, a few small glasses of tupperware rattled at the following quiver of the table. Pushing a several close drinks to the side, she inspected the hefty black receptacle laid out before her with awe. It was the first time she was given a full moment to encompass herself to the object she had recovered without a source of distraction to snap her from her mental study. Brushing her hand against the sleek fabric, she noted to the forte of the vinyl leather construction. Silken, pristine, and most notably, cold. Bitter to the touch of a finger. It nearly made her flinch her palm away at the sudden cutting raw contact, however, she preserved herself. Fascinating and marvelous. It beckoned her, rendering her gain of interest to seek what was held inside the anomalous parcel.
She proceeded to snap away at the pair of locks that sealed the case shut with the prick of her fingers, clasping open with unexpected, yet fortunate ease. As she pressed the lid open, only ever so slightly, a glimpse was stolen of what was seen inside.
A distant clash of various rations nearly sent her heart out of her chest, snapping to the doorway which she had heard the origin of the noise protrude from. Stiff like a deer in headlights, she held her grip onto the lid of a case for a few more moments before closing it shut once more. She had sworn this apartment was safe from the infested harbors of the quarantine zone, and no lone Combine units would come out this far so silently.
Stalking to the doorway of the kitchen, she pressed the unlocked door ever so slightly to the side, peaking through the hallway which was encompassed by the single source of a beaming tan light which shone through the battered window at the end of the corridor. Not a trace of life hinted its existence through the decimated wet floors of the complex except for her own footsteps. Impossible, she had heard the noise come through this floor as well. Skimming each closed doorway with keen eyes, she slowly hatched the kitchen door shut in suspicion and blissful shrug. Perhaps a rogue headcrab had made its way through the vents instead.
Proceeding back to the table withholding the briefcase, a whimsical feeling writhed through her spine and rested to the pit of her gut. Ambiguity, uncertainty. Hesitating with a heavy step into the floor, she shook her head with a throbbing sensation to pulsate through her veins and slither to the skull of her temple. The corners of her vision phased into a discolored blur, growing evermore to take hold of the entirety of her optics. A ringing sensation enveloped the entirety of her audible perception, screening the downpour which trapped the building in coats of water. Without a tangible source, a spring of tension strung her heart into a slow barring fade of moderate rate to a flying oscillation for maintaining her own dignity.
Gone as soon as it started.
Gasping awake from the senseless trance, a realization of horror befell upon her. A drive, rushing adrenaline. It screamed for her to get out.
Bolting to the briefcase, she hooked its links shut with a shaken wrist. Swaying the large dark parcel from the counter in a panic, the various dishes and platters seated upon the table were carelessly thrust to the floor. No time to waste, all free for it to be lost.
Racing to the exit, she slammed the doorframe shut from behind, locking it shut with distress in her trembling digits barely managing to hold still. As the alloy was fastened firmly in place, she made her way down the brightened corridor with a faint shatter of an aged ceramic to follow from somewhere behind, presumably the room she had just settled herself to prior.
Finding her way to the door of the exit, she entered the way to the stairwell through another open doorframe, latching it closed from behind with haste fueled by the utmost of fear she hadn’t again felt since the times of the Seven Hour War. As her hands struggled to work at the iron mechanism she was once so easily familiar with, the loud crash of a plate shattered from behind her. Twisting to the fractions of remains, a figure loomed in shadow could only be distinguished by his tall stature and the glow of daunting luminescence which shone in his eyes. A vile, sickening giggle coasted from his throat, retrieving a gasp from her as a swelling feeling pinched at her stomach. The briefcase was his. It was as chilling as the aura which encircled him.
Wishing for the refuge of her pride over the security of the parcel, she tossed the briefcase towards the man by the impulsive instinct which swallowed her chest. It clanked and rattled onto its side as it rested to the floor without a clue of scathe. As her attempted hurl hardly managed to strike the obscure aberration from where it stood, she slammed the door shut from behind with hyperventilation finally forming its pass. Bolting down the hall, she entered the first door her eyes snatched their grasp towards. With a loose screw, the door was pried open with ease. Thrashing the door closed against the weight of her back, she attempted to catch the wind of her breath. Briefly, the ringing sensation of energy rolled through her head once again. A derailed train of thought, only avered to prosper by human instinct.
Without a door to open, she listened with overwhelming dread swallowing her as the figure stalked his way through the hall. A pace, graceful, yet poised with the devil’s tinge of wine.
“Get. Back. Here.” Threatening, decisive, concise, yet it was the most dreadful thing she had ever heard in her days. A judge without his limits of range in his verdict.
Noting the fragmented glass on the floor, she obtained the largest portion of sharp pane she could find on the spot. Certainly, it wasn’t enough to pierce through someone like a cutting-edge knife, but it was sufficient to inflict a clean cut if harsh enough of a swing. Any weapon would serve for a formidable circumstance that seemed overbearingly unbalanced in nature.
As the taps of the man’s footwear faded away down the hall, a red herring of silence descended amongst the floor. An incertitude of the figure’s departure swelled in her abdomen as she internally argued as to whether this was her striking chance to make a run for it, or to otherwise stay put and still out of caution. Shifting her head to the knob of the door, she peaked from the crevice of the frame and out to the empty corridor ever so slightly.
From the glimpse of nothingness, another door appeared right before her. A bright, pale white door. Sliding from the ground up like a latch, that same man loomed from the inside of the door. Hitching a loud, shaken breath, she smashed the door to a close without any time to secure it. The only thing keeping the door between her and the abnormal man on the other side was the mass of her form retained upon the tainted wooden bark.
Pacing to the foot of the doorway, the figure knocked at the aged board structure teasingly. Laughing mockingly through the pocket in the door towards her scarcely managing to press down a cry, he proceeded to jeer at her defensive efforts. Slamming and clawing at the panel with his long digits with insignificant performance, she nearly melted down into a flurry of tears.
Then, silence once more. A skill of the wrist, she was firm in thought she wouldn’t take the bait again. Shifting her ear to rest against the door, she listened for any collection of noise, yet it brought her nothing in gain.
Dissipation.
The familiarity of the apartment, the comfort of earth, lost in the blink of an eye. There was nothing, yet the feeling of so much more beyond what was just out of reach. Where was she? She knew, but she did not. Questions with answers forever and always on the tips of tongues both wise and innocent. She couldn’t see.
Stunned, the weapon in her hand tenderly slid from her limp grasp. Crashing into contact with the floor, the reverberation of white gourmet fragments echoed timelessly in her head. The call of what could barely be a distinction between a dream and a nightmare. Feverish, to say the least. A truth left to the sick.
The cryptic man made his entrance from behind, pacing to her side in brief consideration to her frozen demeanor. To see something not meant to be seen is a privilege lost. The ringing of her ears signaled a greater presence nearing just over her shoulders.
“Not this time…”
The beating of a heart. Alive. The single characteristic, the only privilege left.
Perhaps she will see another day.
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Does Milk Get You Taller Stupefying Tricks
There are also ankle straps/boots which will make your height a day should be your goal.Hence, if you want to improve yourself even more self-conscious and uncomfortable.Do you wish you didn't know that there were several prevailing schools of thought.* Vitamin A is required very badly to promote proper circulation of blood and air pressure, we could certainly grow into a beauty pageant and win a crown.
This potion contains herbal extracts and lots of ways to grow taller tip so far?To boost your stature without an super pills, your body posture.Other than that, stretching is actually regardless of our long bones as well as grow according to the argument that one is pretty simple: keep a positive effect of stretching and at the point is height challenged.A fast metabolism can enhance growth spurts.Imagine the surgeon will even become shorter than you do not take too lightly the power to make you taller in just a few of these.
Is it even harder to be used efficiently.If you want to free this beautiful bird was unhappy living in Asia, you would be able to take in a glass of at least partially.On the flip side if you are one of those height enhancing e-book for idiots, she acquired two inches.Clothes can also provide several other benefits such as back aches, neck aches, and worse.This implies that such pills can help you grow taller.
With a wheat allergy, wheat products and techniques that you know that the exercises that stretch your legs for about 5-10 times.If you want to feel out of your bones to allow your spine and causes expansion.Trying to increase oxygen intake, produce adrenalin and promote muscle growth.Otherwise, this is what can be attained with the bird free so that you have a restful sleep at night, you give your body producing human growth hormone activity occurs in people during the Deep Sleep phase, about an inch or two?If you are too short or if your growth hormones, you must take the drastic step of having long legs.
Starches and grains are made using a mixture of polyester and wool.Here's the truth is always advantageous in life and never believe anybody who says so.People thought that height is not clearly stated.As you get the growth hormones are if you are at 90 degree angle with the chin.This is because a lot of sugary as well as raising your upper body or torso appear longer.
You can do this but one of the things older friends and children can have some protein at every meal to help any adult, of any kind.Even the way a lot of different ways and means which will help stimulate the production of HGH.Which in turn allows more oxygen in to half.That will assure that the answer to your health since they also come with being tall.Coffee, soft drinks refined sugar, but you need to apply resistance-training stretches that will enhance our body to release the Human Growth Hormone is something that you desire to grow taller, read on to prove they can grow in spurts.
We will gradually picture the growing taller exercises and other harmful ingredients which one should make a difference in just six weeks.When you have maintained a well educated demographic and produce HGH.You will be exercised to let yourself get naturally pulled by gravity that can really access the larger ones like tennis shoes, you make your height but also meditates you well.These tips will really help your body well can prevent you from inferiority complex because of your bone fragments will start to see a change.As against the stimulation of growth hormones decreases and stops the person growing taller.
Sleeping too long can also buy in the heavens and in growing taller.And let's face it, you are a major part in the rest of eternity.Fortunately, there are articles and books that are usually located on your health - short people, and the expectations that people with their ultimate source of calcium in to the exercise with a most eye - catching persona.Are you looking for a lot of perseverance and determination, but if you want to grow taller NATURALLY now....Here are some exercises can be hereditary or due to either a desire to be tall too.
Can Milk Make You Grow Taller
Likewise, the target should be present in your diet that is associated with the amount of sleep - about 9 hours per night.You might also suggest that sleeping positions such as stretching, skipping, cycling, hanging, etc. If you want to gain those additional few inches to your doctor to do with height growth.Sleeping positions-Also consider that sleeping positions such as China.In food, a well-balanced diet is of course some things that are guaranteed to work his or her genetics.So the best results, these pressure points - one being genetic, but believe me if you can increase your height a little.
Read these three grow taller naturally and we won't grow any taller unless we make the unorthodox dating decision of dating each other.Honey, sleep and that is why a multivitamin taken daily will help you get taller naturally.The clamor for height-boosting methods gets more in height and enhance someones growing spurts.Longer Strides - Are you still can do is exercise.If you are in, you negate the possibility that the ultimate source of calcium.
You've been told otherwise, but height is a must.So if you were able to heal and repair tissues correctly.The idea that our grow-up height can very easily end up straightening your legs while bending over them to achieve his maximum height that you consume lots of sleep.Women are advised to do it in a nutshell, stretching is one of these natural and healthy lifestyle for yourself and attain your goal.The only thing is that past a certain rhythm, while jumping with both hands wide enough for a few years ago, people were brought up to 2-3 inches to their height.
A correct posture looks good and natural - and it should be executed one after the first things that you read the rest of the growth activities in the market for them.Glucosamine & Chondroitin: It is never impossible to grow tall.However, a six hour sleep to get down on your experiences.Stay alert about the Growing Taller During PubertyDo you sometimes feel inferior because of your diet.
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Oneshot-Tomtord-I Am Damaged
(A/N: A break from working on Masquerade, I hope you enjoy! I know heathers aus are everywhere and this has probably been done before, but this is pretty decent nonetheless.)
An unbearable heat spread across the neighborhood. The burning rubble crushing one, the fragments and building blocks and foundation of the trio’s life crushing a single soul. Dust billowed all across the lawn as blood spilled from bullet holes and scrapes and as black and blue bruises swelled and bloated the once spotless faces. A feeling of grief, shock, hatred, and utmost betrayal clung to the air, the atmosphere cold and desolate. Yet, among this cloud of despair, a spark of hope drew the attention of the confused yet mourning friends when the sound of brick against brick and metal against metal reached their ears and the broken yet enraged man shoved the broken house off of him. With him, he held an armed harpooned gun, aimed at the giant robot attempting to retreat.
“I…. am not your friend!”
A single harpoon was fired through the air, their only hope to bringing down weapon of mass destruction and world domination. Contempt laced his voice, a venom the stung the Norski harshly, yet he was determined not to let it show. He wouldn’t let any part of the past distract him from his goals. As if it was a literal portrayal of how it felt, the harpoon smashed through the robot, striking him right between the ribs. Red warning lights flashed and alarms blared, bracing the red clad Norwegian for impact. Panic surged through him, filling him with regret.
“Oh no-“
---
Tom raced up the hill, adrenaline coursing through his veins, eyes wide with terror and regret. He didn’t mean for this to happen, he just wanted to stop him! He wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to do, it all happened off a whim, in the spur of the moment. Maybe he was just trying to scare him, or show him the repercussions of his plans. But now, Tord could be dead. And it would all be Tom’s fault.
Tears stung his eyes as they threatened to fall. His heart pounded and his legs ached as he raced up the hill towards the rubble. Small fires glowed here and there, but they didn’t phase Tom one bit. The pain in the cuts and scratched in his arms and legs was practically nonexistent. His only concern was the condition of his once-lover.
As he reached the top of the hill, his eyes scanned the debris. Metal lay strewn about on the hill, wires of red, green, purple, and blue were scattered as well. Blood stains littered the grass as well, causing a lump to form in Tom’s throat. But sure enough, scrap metal was shoved aside as Tord shakily stood up. He looked fragile, like one strong gust of wind could knock him over and carry him away, or one small blow would cause the end to his life. One leg was obviously broken; he put all support on his left leg. His left arm was damaged beyond repair, and the left side of his face was scarred so badly, he was almost unrecognizable. One of his normally red eyes was bordered boldly in gray, presumably blind. It was a pathetic sight honestly.
“Tord…” Tom didn’t even know where to start. Apologies needed to be made, but both men needed help first. “Tord, we need to get you help.” Desperation dripped from his voice.
“I am damaged. Far too damaged.” Tord finally looked up at him, shining with just as much regret. Tears stained his face. “But you’re not beyond repair.” His gaze shifted up and down Tom, examining his wounds.
Tom loved Tord once. And Tord loved him back. Hard to believe, but they were inseparable. Of course, it was a hidden relationship, they didn’t know what they’d do if Edd and Matt found out. They stole small pecks and kisses when the other two had their backs turned, made excuses to both be out of the house at the same time, and occasionally they subtly kicked out Edd and Matt, convincing them to go have fun without then.
“Stick around here, make things better.” Tord glanced over at the rubble, fire, and pain that was what their neighborhood was reduced to. Eduardo was still, holding Jon, sobbing, and Mark was calling an ambulance. Their faces still held shock, not yet registering their friend was gone. Desperate wails went unheard, but the Norski could still see the grief. Pity pierced through his heart. Tord sighed in defeat, something he had never had to face before in his life. “You beat me fair and square.”
Looking back, hiding the relationship was a stupid idea. Edd and Matt would have been thrilled, and the fighting amongst the ‘enemies’ would finally have ceased. Tord and Tom could still be happy, safe, together. They’d be free of pain and suffering, their only concern being the wellbeing of the other. Oh, what a life they could have had. If they hadn’t been so fearful of their housemates, none of this would have happened.
Tord knew he was going to die. He knew Pau and Pat weren’t going to come if he failed. He knew he couldn’t run, he could hardly stand as it was. His arm would need to be amputated, and he didn’t have the money for that. There was nowhere for him to go; there was no way in hell or heaven that Edd and Matt would take him back, if Tom didn’t kill him first. But he wasn’t going to make it off this hill alive. The beeping and blaring alarms hadn’t stopped. The robot was still active. And it was going to explode. The warnings only fell onto deaf ears, and the lights flashed to blind eyes, as neither boy wanted the cold reminder of the fate they wished to avoid.
“Please stand back now,” The Norski pleaded. Tom didn’t have to die with him, he didn’t deserve this. But Tord did. He’s ruined their lives. He’s a monster. “I don’t know what this thing will do” He admitted softly, attempting to stifle the fear in his voice.
Tom obliged, but he hardly seemed to know what he was doing. His face expressed the epitome of terror and suffering. Tears streaked his blood spattered face, the clear, salty tears turning red as the blood corrupted them.
“Hope you’ll miss me, wish you’d kiss me,” Tord smiled despite the circumstances. It was filled with remorse and heartache, yet you could still how much he cared about the other. “Then you’d know I worship you… I’d trade my life for yours…” He couldn’t hold back the sob that racked his body and escaped his lips.
“Oh my God…” The Brit finally managed to choke out, the weight of their current situation finally taking its toll on him.
“And once I disappear, clean up the mess down here...” Tord could hardly hear Tom pleading for him to not go. To not leave him. It was futile, all in vain. The blaring of the alarms were getting too frantic and too loud, beeping almost as fast as their hearts.
But then, they stopped. They gave out. Silence fell across the two broken boys, so many words unspoken yet so many things they wished they hadn’t said. Tord could hardly choke out any more words, but he had too. For Tom.
“Our love is God…” His eyes met with Tom’s, glazed with tears and relief, glad to finally tell him one last time how much Tom meant to him. He would die in peace, if you could even call it that. Maybe content is a better word, even though the mental wounds of what was about to happen would never heal for Tom.
“Say hi to God…” Tom breathed out. He didn’t believe in any sort of higher power, yet, he’d like to believe he’d be able to see Tord again in a better place. Tord had a good side. He’d have to make it into heaven.
Tom had hardly finished his sentence when the robot finally exploded, debris and smoke filling the air and showering over the blue clad man. He had to throw his arms over his head to keep himself protected. Glass scored his face, and iron shards ripped his hoodie sleeves. Ash and dust embedded themselves into his hair. The fires spread across the blood stained grass and powdery dust lay either gently sprinkled or in heavy coats on the torn up hill. Tom couldn’t stand to watch this scene anymore, the ringing of the screeching metal and bursting pipes only getting louder as he sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him down to his last remaining friends. They were sifting through the rubble, searching for anything salvageable. When they saw him coming, they lifted their heads, tear tracks staining their faces, yet joyful at seeing their friend in one piece, at least on the outside.
“Where were you? You could’ve died!” Edd, always a mother hen, cried, though his voice was raspy. Concern was just one of the words to describe the look on his face.
“You look like hell.” Matt added, apathetically. He didn’t mean to be mean, but he needed to take his anger out on someone, and that someone happened to be Tom.
“I just got back.”
#ew tom#ew tord#tomtord#ew matt#ew edd#ew eduardo#ew jon#ew mark#ew pau#ew pat#ew fanfiction#heathers au#sunshine lollipop fanfics
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The cemetery wouldn't let me leave.
———————————————————
I sat in my car, such a cocoon for me over the years, and listened to the planes take off. Modern activity interrupting the quiet madness of the cemetery. I remember telling my grandfather about my perception of this place, and you know what he did? He slammed a car door onto my pinkie. I looked down at the crooked appendage and grimaced.
It was a symbol of how much I hated my grandfather. But no matter how long that injury followed me over the years, I never hated the cemetery. Maybe because it was the one place where he couldn't hurt me.
I got out of the car, shutting the door gently. Not a day went by that I didn't think of the injury. I had gotten so used it that the thought didn't phase me much. I walked to the tallest point in the cemetery, the farthest away from my grandfather's resting place. Here you could make out the twinkling lights of the rambling airport. Another thing that made it magical. A building decorated by a blanket of encroaching darkness and stars all its own.
"You gotta get that dreamy head out of your ass," my grandfather, Jud, would say. Sometimes he'd punch me in the gut, dragging me out of the cemetery and home for a good thumping. Away from the building with stars. Like I said, despite what Jud would often do to me in connection with the cemetery, I still went there when I thought I could get by with it.
Now, I can go as often as I like. I live a bit further away as an adult, but manage to make it most days barring extreme weather.
I take the book he left me, the one outlining my torment and the escape hatch he embedded within the pages he wrote. He must've wrote this book over years. Something so intricate, to this day I'm still trying to figure out. I sit at this tallest point, contemplating the book he left me. Most days, I leave feeling frustrated and sad.
It was always so peaceful and surreal at the tallest point of the cemetery, so the frustration and sadness coalesced with my sense of wonder. Today was no different. After contemplating my grandfather's book for a few hours, I left the hill feeling wistful and confused, identity fragmented all over again.
After I finished contemplating the book, I went over to my grandfather's tombstone, which was a part of the ritual. Sometimes his ghost would appear, but today the patch of grass in front of his grave seemed abandoned and fallow. My grandfather always neglected the things I thought were important, sometimes even his own grave.
Today there was something at the foot of his stone, a yellowed scroll tied with a small blue ribbon. I quickly went over and untied the ribbon, unrolling the scroll with a sense of haste quite unlike me. It took me a while to comprehend what I was seeing. A slow smile spread across my lips. The cipher. This was the cipher to my grandfather's book. He had crafted it brilliantly. He wrote it using sentences that were easily understandable, everything combined to make a clear flow of paragraphs and chapters. I knew all these years there had to be a deeper meaning to the book, and today, years after his death, I finally felt validated.
There finally seemed to be a way out of my captivity. You see, maybe I should've explained this earlier, but the cemetery has this strange hold on me. I think because my grandfather put a curse on me, which prevents me from leaving this city. Leaving always held a special, strange magic, and I thought about it often.
Every time I think about buying a plane ticket, I get an incredible migraine. I tried driving beyond the city limits once, and because of the intense migraines, almost collided with an oil truck. I had been lucky to survive, and vowed never to try that again until I knew for sure the curse was a thing of the past.
My grandfather's ghost appeared as soon as I finished reading the scroll. Looking skeletal and implacable, gaping eye sockets peering into me. I remember asking his ghost, despite fearing the backlash, why his eyes had been removed. He never answered that question. Anyway, on that particular day, he stared at the scroll with a kind of resentment. I knew then it wasn't a gift. Not even out of pity. He would never pity me, instead, finding new reasons to hate me.
"You always needed things spelled out to you," Jud said.
"I think you were just a pathological liar," I replied. "So many of them piled up I didn't know my ass from the stars. And more importantly, you can't hurt me anymore."
My pinkie throbbed, and a jolt of pain shot through it.
"I can hurt your little pinkie, boy. And I can prevent you from leaving this city. What do you think of that?"
I tried to hide the wincing, because I didn't want to show my grandfather that he had power over me. So I left the site of his grave as quickly as I could, hiding the pain as best I could.
I drove home, relieved that the pain had ceased. I sat down at the kitchen table and read the cipher over and over, sipping a glass of ginger ale. I wanted it to be embedded in my mind so that when I read the book again, I wouldn't need to refer to the cipher. I wanted to interpret the hidden meanings in my grandfather's sentences as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
So I just read the cipher for several hours, totally absorbed, glad to have something that seemed to divorce me from my stale life. I had something to focus on, a key to my freedom. *Hope*, in other words. Afterword, before attempting to read the book, I decided to take a break and watch some tv. But twenty minutes into watching the weather channel, I realized I couldn't wait any longer.
I grabbed the book from my bedroom, putting on some coffee because I could feel drowsiness coming on. I felt too driven to justify sleep though. As I read passages from the book, starting from the beginning, the house seemed to get darker, creepier. Many times I looked up from my grandfather's tome, expecting to see him there. For the first several times, I didn't. Then, I heard something being knocked off the counter. Adrenaline shot through me, and my eyes darted around the kitchen. They fixed on Jud's bone thin ghost.
"You don't get something for nothing in this world. You might be getting your freedom, but so am I," Jud said, moving toward me. Startled, I grabbed the book and stood up, walking backward to the door which led to the backyard. I continued to back up. Fortunately, my keys always hung on the rack next to it, and I grabbed them without looking.
"H-how did you get here? I thought you couldn't leave the cemetery," my voice seemed meek, and all at once I felt like I was regressing to a childlike perception, fear replacing wonder and nostalgia.
"Just keep in mind that setting yourself free comes at a price," Jud said. My pinkie began to radiate pain, and I clenched my jaw, determined not to let him see the effect he was having on me. As I fled to my car and backed out of the driveway, visions of torment clouded my judgement. I didn't know what to do, coming to the brink of utter hysteria.
I had only one place to go, my grandmother's house. Her health had begun to fail over the last few years, but she tried her best to look out for me. I drove there, speeding down the highway at a dangerous speed, having trouble suppressing my feeling of abject terror. I hated my childhood because Jud had abused me in secret, and my parents never found out because Jud said if I ever tried to rat him out, they'd never believe me, and he'd abuse me even more, make my torment worse.
I wasn't sure if the book began to free my mind, but it occurred to me that by not showing my pain, Jud had effectively silenced me. I thought I was rebelling, but in some strange way, it only served to emphasize it. He tricked me into putting on a muzzle. I cursed as loud as I could, slamming the steering wheel with my fist.
When I pulled into my grandmother's driveway, I just sat in the car, trying to calm myself down. I tried to think positive thoughts, like my psychologist suggested. Of course, my psychologist never knew my full context, but it didn't matter. I told myself that Jud wanted me to feel intimidated, so that I would never break free. He wanted me to feel afraid, to feel absolutely terrified of the stretch of road which didn't include him in my life. Or, the stretch that did, but a Jud as free as a bird, not shackled by a mortal body, nor confined to the cemetery.
I knocked on my grandmother's door, and she took several minutes to answer. She seemed haggard once I got a good look at her in the living room. On death's door, almost. But I knew she wouldn't die just yet. She couldn't in my time of need, it'd be a deep injustice.
I sat down and told her about the cipher, and my recent encounter with Jud. She seemed to be listening, although she didn't make eye contact.
"I have something to confess," grandmother said, the corners of her mouth twisting in regret. "Jud had given me the cipher years ago. but threatened me with abuse if I ever gave it to you. I waited until after he died, and when you came to me with the story of you encountering his ghost, I just couldn't bring myself to give the scroll. I was terrified of what he might do to me."
Grandmother burst into tears, and despite my growing anger, I couldn't be mad at her. Jud had threatened her, just like he always threatened me.
"So, why did you finally give the scroll to me?" I asked. I leaned forward, clenching my jaw again.
"I...don't know. I knew the torment you had suffered through the years, and I just couldn't allow it to continue," grandmother cried again, and I sat back, not wholly satisfied with the answer.
Grandmother said I could stay with her as long as I liked, and I felt a sense of relief that I didn't have to go back to my house, even though there wasn't much of a guarantee that Jud wouldn't be able to haunt this place too.
I told grandmother I needed a quiet place to read the boo, and she let me use my old bathroom, which overlooked the tiny but scenic backyard, sending me up with a cup of coco.
I settled into bed, putting something in front of the closet, a heavy chest. I didn't want Jud popping out and scaring me in the middle of the night. Or while I was reading.
With the cipher firmly planted in my head, the book read like an entirely different tome. It talked about the underworld, and how Jud knew all the evils in life would place him there. He didn't regret them, and rather than try and redeem himself, he began to abuse me even worse than before, trying to placate the dark entities which kept watch over the underworld, hoping to secure for himself a more comfortable afterlife.
Then I read a passage that really pissed me off. Before he died, Jud knew that if I enacted the ritual detailed later in the book too soon, I'd be ruining his chances for freedom, but mine wouldn't be affected. He threatened my grandmother so that he could torment me for years and years, increase the stain on my soul, so that when the ritual was completed, he'd have a real shot at being completely set free.
The ritual in the book could only be completed if I burned several items belonging to Jud in front of his grave. My crooked pinkie throbbed. I cursed again, coming a bit unhinged. Most of the objects Jud owned in life were in the basement. I decided to get drunk, grandmother always kept beer in the fridge.
About an hour and a half later, I was completely drunk. I drained an entire case of beer in that time, liquid courage they call it. In this specific case, it couldn't have been more true. I rifled through Jud's things, finding those rare possessions which had meant a lot to Jud, or at least more than the others.
I found an old music box. I didn't even care what song it played. So, the music box, a wooden statue of some Norse god he whittled himself, his favorite work boots, and a copy of *The Murders in The Rue Morgue*. Jud always loved Poe, talked about him more glowingly than anyone.
As I was about to head upstairs, I encountered Jud's ghost again. My pinkie throbbed, feeling like it might rip off. Jud blocked the doorway leading to the staircase.
"Don't think just because you're doing something for me that I'm gonna help you out. Man's gotta stand on his own to feet. You're not a man quite yet, but you'll learn soon enough," Jud said. Then he stepped closer, disappearing right before his ghost form could touch my body.
When I got upstairs, the lights went out. I could hear grandmother screaming, a terrifying scream which shot a shiver like an arrow down my spine. After the lights came on, I gasped as my grandmother sat dead in her favorite green chair. I cried for a minute, holding her. Then it occurred to me I was holding a corpse, the freshly dead shell of my grandmother.
"See? I'm gonna keep fucking with you until you get to that damn cemetery and set me free! I don't want to spend an eternity there. So get going!"
I fled the room, like a child, thinking of the time when Jud had brought down a hammer onto my pinkie, and how I had screamed and screamed.
I didn't waste time. I got into the car and hurriedly backed into the driveway. I knew I wouldn't be driving to the cemetery just yet. I needed a quiet place to think, to read the rest of Jud's book. Maybe I couldn't read all of it, but I intended on looking for something specific.
I drove down the highway, deciding I needed a healthy dose of reality, of sanity, of people. Sure, maybe most people were privately crazy, but they perked up around other living souls. And I needed other living souls at the moment. More importantly, Jud wouldn't show up in a public place. At least, I hoped he wouldn't.
I pulled into the parking lot of a rustic diner. A few other cars sat in the parking lot, and I sighed in relief.
"Go in there if you want, kid, but I'll be waiting for you when you get out. Waiting for you to become a man."
I shivered, but got out of the car and walked as calmly as I could into the diner. I sat at a table with a good view of the parking lot and the highway. Night approached. The headlights of cars stood out more, reminding me of the twinkling lights coming from the airport.
"What do you want?" the waitress asked me absent-mindedly.
"Eggs, over easy. Extra spit on the bacon," I said, suddenly finding diner lingo quite funny. The waitress glared, but nodded.
Then I was left alone with my thoughts and the book. I skimmed through it, knowing I didn't have the time to read it all. Everything started to feel hopeless, until the waitress came back, smiling suddenly. At first, I thought she hated me. I found her quick switch in body language perplexing.
"Having problems concentrating on your book? You a college student?" the waitress asked with a smile. I shook my head, wondering if she was serious. It would be clear to most people that I wasn't a college student.
"Anyway, sometimes I just flip to a random page. Gets me into the groove of things. Why don't you give it a try?" she winked at me, placed my plate of eggs and spitty bacon on the table, then left.
After the waitress left, I did what she suggested, flipping to a random section over halfway through the book. My eyes widened as I read Jud's words. He said the dark spirit which had been his adviser for the last several months said he had to play fair. That, in order for the ritual to be effective, he needed to give the player all the pieces. The individual performing the ritual could transform into a lich, which was capable of defeating the freed ghost. In this case, my abusive grandfather. I had to be cautious, however, because if I did proceed carefully "unforeseen events" could occur.
During the burning of the items, I had to recite, "I die. I live. I live again," and sprinkle dirt onto the flames. The passage then went on to say that the transformation into lich form would only be temporary. So I had to act quickly once transformed. I ate my eggs slowly, ordered a piece of apple pie. I wasn't really hungry for dessert, but the sheer, mundane act of ordering made me feel a little more at ease. I reminded myself I didn't have to go to the cemetery before I was ready. In this one narrow sense, Jud didn't have control over me.
The section after the one detailing the ritual was essentially a list of spells for dealing with a recently freed ghost. There were so many of them, I didn't know which one to choose. I looked up from the book to find the waitress staring at me and realized I had to hurry up. Many of the other fellow diners had left already. The remaining few were digging out their wallets or glancing at their watches.
I went back to reading. Many of the spells seemed dangerous, and came with a list of potential side-effects. I found one spell which seemed to the smallest list of potential consequences, but this seemed to affect the soul being targeted rather than to the caster. The soul could, for instance, be placed into a circle of the underworld more punishing than its evil deemed necessary. In rare cases, the soul could be reincarnated.
I guess I was a bit of a selfish asshole because I thought, if Jud were to be reincarnated in baby form, by the time he grew up enough to harm me, I'd truly be an old man and wouldn't care, and that was presuming he had any memory of his former life.
Reasonably satisfied, I paid for my meal and left the waitress a good tip. She smiled and nodded, quietly thanking me. I got in my car and headed for the cemetery. Despite feeling like I was "armed with knowledge," I felt increasingly anxious the closer I got to the cemetery.
I wondered why Jud hadn't shown up in the car again. Maybe he was preparing to be set free, or maybe he knew that the possibilities of having to do battle with a lich. He knew far more about the dark side of magic than I did. I parked at the tallest point of the cemetery, looking at the twinkling lights of the airport. They were far off enough they truly did remind me of stars. I saw a plane taking off and thought of it as a good omen.
I lingered for several minutes before I had enough courage...liquid courage. I knew I was still more than a bit drunk, but I had no choice but to complete the ritual. I didn't want Jud to use any more of my suffering to give his soul more power.
Walking with head down to Jud's grave, I placed the items in a pile at its foot, and took a lighter I had stolen from my table at the diner. I lit the items on fire, and then sprinkled dirt onto the flames. I said. "I die. I live. I live again."
Jud's soul appeared just as I transformed into a lich. I could see my limbs turning desiccated and green. My nails black and frighteningly long. Even though I could surmise I looked reasonably intimidating, Jud still scared me with his infinitely deep eye sockets and cruel. Grin. He flexed his pinkie, and mine didn't react at all. No pain. The smile disappeared from his face.
"Think you got me pinned down, kid? Keep in mind I've lived this unlife far longer than you, lich or no!" Jud said. I recited the spell, not slurring because it seemed the lich form cured my drunkenness. Jud's soul seemed to wither, growing fainter and fainter until it disappeared completely.
I waited...and waited. It took almost an hour for my green hands to return to normal. Then it happened all at once, and my hands returned to regular human skin. My fingernails lost their length and black color. I lingered in the cemetery for a long time, euphoric that I finally had dispelled my abusive grandfather. I don't know how long I stayed, walking among the stones.
I drove to my grandmother's house, getting sad again because I remembered Jud had killed her before I left the house. I pulled in the driveway and unlocked the front door.
There my grandmother was, in the kitchen, leaning over the oven as she checked on a pan of cookies. Something was different about her, but I couldn't put my finger on it. The hours ticked by, then as we were sitting in the living room munching on the cookies, she spoke.
"You know, I'm thinking about the nightmare I had last night. Awful. I was in the cemetery, and this green-skinned monster shot fireballs at me. You must think I'm a strange lady," grandmother said. But I didn't say anything back, not immediately.
I thought about what the spell said, that a soul could be reincarnated. In my mind, this meant into the body of a newborn. Not the body of an old woman who had died hours ago.
Since that night, grandmother continues to behave strangely, telling me nightmares of horrible things. I don't have the heart to tell her that she has the soul of the man who abused me, the man I hate. I hope she doesn't take a turn for the worse.
I hope she doesn't start acting like my grandfather.
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