#my soul hurts and i am not okay lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

python333 · 1 year ago

Note

Hello!! I absolutely adore your 141 platonic fics, I litterlay giggle and kick my feet when you post new storys about it. Especially since they're always gender neutral! Litteraly always check to see if youve posted a new fic, but anways!

I'm a really big sucker for found family mental health fics, especially when I'm experiencing rough times. If your comfortable with it, I was wondering if you could make the 141 catch Reader self harming or maybe just seeing the self harm on their arms accidentally and comforting them. Always love a comforting found family fic on cold nights.

If it's easier, I really love really any of your hurt/comfort type 141 fics with all my soul and eat them up anytime you post them. Especially since there isnt much gn!reader and TF 141 platonic hurt/comfort fics. So if you aren't busy than that's another option I would love to see!!

If your uncomfortable with it then that's fine and you can just ignore this post! Make sure to take care if youself aswell author. You're absolutely amazing! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

self-slaughter — python333

— — — —

synopsis reader is a medic and is caught harming themselves by the 141 in the medbay!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 6.6k

warnings self-harm [specifically using a scalpel], self-harm scars, dark thoughts [nothing too bad, but thoughts of pulling off your skin and harming yourself], painful wound cleaning [with iodopovidone], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hello anon!! i too am a big sucker for found family mental health fics, and completely understand this request, and i will happily write it for you!! a lot of this is based on my own experiences with this, so i hope that's okay and that you enjoy the fic!! as well as this request, i'll use this fic as an excuse to write a few prompts on my bad things happen bingo card, which will be displayed at the end of the fic! the prompt used will be: painful wound cleaning! expect wayyyy more angst after this LMAO. also, if this feels like glorification or anything else inappropriate for a fic like this, then please let me know! since it's mainly based on my own experiences, i assume it wouldn't feel *too* much like that, but still!

It gets kind of old after so long of doing it.

Almost like it’s a chore—as if stealing glances at your medical equipment, tools meant to save the lives of others, and wishing that it were being used to draw blood from your body was just an inconvenience. You complain about it in your head like you used to about school, like it was nothing more than some homework that was due a minute before midnight.

Right now, you’re alone in the medical bay. It wasn’t often that you were, typically two bumbling idiots would stumble in every few minutes talking about how they got injured while sparring, but for the past thirty minutes it’s been silent. While you appreciated the break from the constant explanations of why the soldiers you were to tend to had gotten injured, with the silence came very unwanted thoughts.

And with nobody to focus on came your unwilling lingering stare at the sharp scalpel on the small metal equipment cart that was just a few feet away from where you sat. It didn’t help that you felt oddly guilty today, either.

Well, the guilt wasn’t odd. You knew where it came from. It just felt odd, considering the cause for it happened a week ago.

The cause had been on a critical mission last week, where you were responsible for carrying medical supplies and ensuring the team’s well-being and general health. The medical equipment wasn’t particularly expensive or hard to get, but it was still incredibly important.

However, on that same mission, right towards the end of it, you’d been caught in the midst of an intense gunfight. Distracted by the heavy enemy fire, you dropped the small bag you’d been using to carry the medical supplies, and hadn’t noticed you did until it was too late. By the time you and the others were out and heading back to base, you had just realized you left behind the medical equipment.

All week, your fellow task force members had reassured you that it was okay and that it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering nobody got hurt. Still, even a week later, you’re hung up on it. Had someone gotten injured, what could you have done? You didn’t have any supplies to help them, so what would you have done then? Just the thought of that possibility makes you shudder.

The scalpel looks so tempting.

It’s not like you hadn’t used it before—you have the scars to prove you had, ranging from small lines that could be mistaken for cat scratches to tiger-stripe length cuts that make your thighs look as though they’d been mauled by a large animal. As elegantly as you describe them in your head, the visuals of them aren’t nearly as pretty. With the help of that scalpel, a few sharp needles, and some medical scissors, you’d successfully made it look as though a bear had tried to attack you and tear your legs off.

Ironic, isn’t it? A medic harming themselves?

Your job is to literally save the lives of others, and here you are, staring at the closest thing you have to a knife in the medbay. It’s become as easy as blinking for you—which is scary, honestly, the way you’ve developed a tolerance for cutting yourself and stapling your skin back together if you’ve cut too long or deep.

It’s no longer enough to just scrape something sharp across your skin and watch blood bubble up from the broken seams of your flesh, no, now you have to cut even deeper to actually feel anything. You have to feel the scalpel being buried to the hilt in your flesh, and you have to see the way blood spurts out of the self-inflicted wound after you pull out the tool.

You continue to stare at the scalpel, sure that you look like you’re in some sort of trance right now.

It looks so tempting. You can remember the last time you used it��three days ago, the longest you’d gone without it in a while. Similar to cigarette-addicts, you often tell yourself that you’re able to stop whenever you’d like—that you’re able to quit at any time. It’s a lie, and you know it, but you still like to pretend that it’s true.

You’re still staring at the scalpel.

Its sharpened edge reflects the overhead light, creating a bright glow that strains your eyes when you stare at it for too long. The metal of the handle is worn down from use, even though it’d only been in the medbay for maybe a few months—something nobody had questioned yet, thankfully. The clean blade, replaced just yesterday, had no traces of filth or grime on it, making it even more tempting.

You blink. You hadn’t noticed the burning of your eyes until you forced them away from the small knife.

You move your gaze to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers, gently tugging at a hangnail that’s been lingering on your thumb for the past few minutes. As you pull on it, you feel the sting that it brings, though that sting now feels dull compared to the other things you’ve done to yourself.

It almost feels like a small pinch compared to the ways you’ve mutilated your thighs on certain nights that didn’t allow you the energy to do anything else, or the ways you’ve carved apologies in the forms of lines into your arms to try and gain forgiveness for your thoughts and temptations.

You pull the hangnail off completely and watch the miniscule droplets of blood bleed through your flesh and meet your skin and nail. Before you only had the energy to do your job and harm yourself, you would’ve hissed at the sting pulling off the small bit of skin caused you and grabbed a bandaid immediately, but now, all you can think about is how it isn’t enough.

About how much better you’d feel if you pulled all your skin off. If you could feel every inch of your skin stretched to its limits and torn off of your body, because God knows you deserve it.

The thought makes you wince. That is… disgusting. Why am I thinking about that? You shake your head in hopes that it would shake away the dark thought, but instead the action makes it rattle inside your brain and break off into tiny bits in pieces, small unwanted thoughts of wounding your flesh rolling around your mind.

Similarly to Sisyphus and his boulder, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind, your hands starting to curl into tight fists, but you just can’t. Every time you push a thought back, it comes rolling back to the forefront of your mind, the momentum it gets from being pushed back so far only to get rocketed forwards making it even more unbearable to think about.

The fists your hands have formed become tighter.

Each thought that gets pushed back only jumps forwards once again, ricocheting around your brain, the effort of trying to ignore them making your ears ring.

Before you realize it, your gaze snaps back to the scalpel.

You don’t even notice the blood that begins to spill from your palms from how deeply your nails cut into your skin.

Every thought tries to be louder than the other, creating an unholy cacophony of sound; a terrifying harmony that only grew louder every second that passed. You stare at the scalpel. It continues to reflect the bright gleam of the overhead light, and it continues to make your eyes strain the more you look at it, but you can’t find it in yourself to be all that bothered about the eyestrain.

You unclench your fists and stand up, walking the short distance over to the metal medical cart where the scalpel lays, and you grab the handle of it with shaky hands. You look over at the door for a moment, and stay there for another few seconds.

Once you see that nobody’s coming in, you rush yourself to one of the beds, sliding open the curtains in front of it and sliding them back so that they’ll obscure anyone else’s view of you using the scalpel on yourself.

You sit on the bed and although the scalpel almost slips out of your hand because of the blood from your palms, you manage to keep held in your tight fist, holding it like you would a pencil; tucked under the base of your thumb, and going through the gap between your index and middle finger.

With your hands still trembling and your breath uneven, as well as a bustling mind that only grew louder as the scalpel in your hand grew closer to the skin of your forearm, you made the first incision. Almost immediately, your mind quieted, and your headache dimmed.

Quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of a clear head, you lift the scalpel from your skin, not waiting to watch the blood bubble up from your open wound like you usually would, instead opting to make another incision right next to it.

Being a medic, there was nothing you could really do to stop yourself from thinking about how deep each incision was, and how deep you were cutting into your flesh—so while you cut yourself, a train of thought begun.

Half an inch deep, You push the scalpel deeper, Now a full inch. Should take a month or two to fully heal. Wouldn’t scar.

The thought of it not scarring should make you happy, or at least, neutral, but instead the thought makes you frown. Some odd hunger that comes from the indefinite pit in your stomach craves evidence for the malice you’ve shown towards your own skin, something that would prove your self-hatred.

So, you go another half inch deeper. Scarring would be possible, but not as high of a chance as if you went another half inch. With that thought, you go the last half inch. There we go.

You slide the scalpel blade through your flesh, the blade cutting through it like it would a firm fruit like a pear. It’s easier to cut through skin when the skin is pulled taut, You think, If only I had an extra hand.

You pull out the blade and repeat. You feel less guilty already.

All that worry about fucking up during your last assignment washes away, like the wave of guilt that overcame you earlier receded and pulled back that worry with it, lowering the tide of shame and self-reproach within you. In fact, the tide lowers so much that it almost completely disappears from your mind—like it never existed in the first place.

Reminds me of a tsunami, You repeat your actions with the scalpel, When the tides get low, so low that the ocean floor shows and you could walk where you’d originally have to swim, it’s because a tsunami is building up.

You look down at your work. Your forearm is a bloody mess, crimson red dripping down to your fingers and threatening to drop onto the stark white sheets of the bed you’re sitting on. You sigh tiredly and get up from the bed, putting the end of the scalpel’s handle into your mouth—ignoring the voice in the back of your head that reprimands you for not thinking about bacteria or contamination—and biting down to hold it whilst you slide the curtains in front of the bed to the side, walking out of the small resting area.

You grab the scalpel and set it onto the metal medical cart by your desk, grabbing the gauze on that same cart, opening the small box it’s kept in with your non-bloody hand. It’s a struggle, but you manage it open, and you shake the roll of gauze out onto the cart.

In the middle of you attempting to pull the end of the gauze off of the roll so that you could begin to wrap it around the red lines decorating your forearm, you hear loud footsteps walking near the medbay. You freeze in place, the gauze roll in one hand, your eyes burning holes through the door with how intensely you stare at it.

There’s a knock. Then another.

The door handle twists.

You stare at the door, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion for a second.

The door opens.

“Hey, dae ye hae any—” Soap walks in, the sergeant taking one look at you before cutting himself off with a confused and immediately worried, “Holy shit, whit happened tae yer arm? Are ye alright?”

He rushes over to you and takes your bleeding forearm into his hand. You almost immediately rip it away from his grip.

“Nothing! Everything’s fine! Just an accident,” You lie, holding the blood-covered forearm close to your chest, “I was just about to clean it up.”

“Dae ye need help wrappin’ it, an cleanin’ it up, or anything?” Soap asks, eyebrows furrowed and his expression beyond worried.

“Nope,” You insist, “It’s fine. All good here.”

“... Ye sure?”

“Uh huh,” You nod your head, “All good. Don’t worry about it.”

“‘kay then,” Soap tilts his head and crosses his arms, “Whit happened?”

“Just a little accident with some of the equipment,” You nod down to the bloody scalpel on the medical cart, “That’s all.”

It must be obvious you’re lying, because Soap sighs and says, “I think we baith ken that that’s a lie.”

You stay silent for a few moments, before Soap speaks up again, “Ye ken if ye dinnae tell me, I’ll jist jump tae conclusions, richt?”

You take a deep breath before mumbling something under your breath. When Soap’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, you repeat louder, “I used the scalpel. On myself.”

“Ye whit?”

“I used the scalpel on myself,” You look away, and rush out, “and I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it, it’s not like— like a normal thing or anything, it’s just this once, I swear, and— and—”

“[c/n], calm down,” Soap quickly uncrosses his arms and sets both hands onto your shoulders, furrowed eyebrows now taking a more concerned shape, “It’s okay.”

You take a deep breath and look at him, looking at his nose instead of his eyes because you don’t think you could handle eye contact right now, “I’m really sorry.”

“Why would ye dae that tae yerself?” Soap asks, voice soft and almost pitying, which makes you want to curl up and die.

You shrug, not wanting to answer verbally.

“Dae ye— dae the others ken?” Soap questions.

“No.”

“I’m—” Soap looks conflicted for a moment, “I hae an assignment… I’ll get Gaz tae help ye, aye? An’ I’ll check in wi’ ye as soon as possible?”

You hesitate, but end up nodding in agreement, thankful that Soap offered to get Gaz rather than one of the others. The others seemed so oddly scary right now that you don’t even want to think about how they’d react to this whole situation. It’s all gone by so fast—one moment you were sitting on a hospital bed, the next you’re found out by Soap of all people—you’ve barely had time to think about the others.

“Okay. Okay, okay,” Soap repeats the word under his breath like a mantra, thinking to himself for a second before sighing and looking down at you again, “Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ll go get him, ye stay here, aye?”

You nod again, this time your vision begins to get more blurred.

“Ye’re gonnae be okay, okay?” Soap tries to reassure you. You nod once again, sniffling a little bit, making Soap’s gaze soften.

He takes his hands off of your shoulders and gives you one last sad look before turning around and rushing out of the medbay, his thundering footsteps growing quieter as he gets closer to Gaz’s location—most likely his sleeping quarters.

You wait a moment and when you hear no footsteps, your gaze goes back to the blade. It’s not like it’ll hurt to do a few more. I’ll stop when the others arrive.

You grab the handle of the blade, and as quickly as you can, akin to an addict scrambling for substance, you slice through the skin of your non-mutilated hand. You make several quick and deep gashes before dropping the scalpel onto the medical cart again, breathing heavy, the cuts this time actually hurting. It felt like fire was running rampant through your nerves, all stemming from the self-induced wounds, and you winced at the new pain. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but still.

When you hear footsteps again, you can tell they aren’t Soap’s.

The door clicks open and in walks Gaz, already looking very worried—presumably from what Soap told him about your… situation—with another person in tow. Right behind him, Price walks in, expression neutral so far.

Gaz looks over at you, his eyes widening as he sees the bloody gashes in your forearms. Without a second thought, he rushes over to you, his hand reaching for your forearm. Before you can stop him, he grabs your bloody forearm and pulls it up a bit so that he can look at it closer. You flinch, and Price quickly walks over to you two before Gaz can even utter a single word.

“Let’s not, okay?” Price’s version of ‘knock it off’, “I’m here, I’ll take care of their… thing. You hand me what I tell you to. Understood?”

“Yup— Yes, sir. Captain,” Gaz corrects himself quickly, making a slip-up that in any other situation would’ve made you at least chuckle, but all you can do now is stare at the pair as you hold your bloody arms to your chest.

Price looks back over to you and nods over to one of the many empty curtain-surrounded beds and says, “Go sit over there and wait for a few seconds.”

You nod, not knowing what else to do or say, and immediately walk over there. It’s the room furthermost to the right, the one that’s also the closest to the door and the one you’d coincidentally gone into to cut yourself.

You slide the curtains to the side and sit down on the white bed, and just a few seconds later, just as Price said, he walked in as well. He sat next to you, Gaz in tow, the latter carrying a jar of cotton pads and balls as well as a bottle of Betadine.

Betadine—or iodopovidone, whichever name you preferred—was a sort of antiseptic that was generally used for cleaning cuts and wounds. Maybe not ones as deep as yours, but it would still work just as well.

Despite it not being alcohol-based, or really having any alcohol in it, it still hurts the same as rubbing alcohol would, which you were… definitely not looking forward to.

“Sergeant,” Price takes the jar and bottle of Betadine from Gaz, “Go and grab the skin stapler for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaz nods, walking out of the room once again. Price sets the jar and bottle of Betadine onto the bed beside himself after he leaves.

With you and Price now in the room alone, he turns to you and holds out his hand with his palm faced up for your arm silently. You carefully put your forearm onto his hand, watching as he gently pulls it closer to him, looking a bit closer at it before sighing through his nose and using his free hand to open the jar of cotton pads.

“How did this happen?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Soap didn’t fill you in?”

“No.”

You think about what to tell him for a moment. What’s too straightforward? What’s too vague? How do I not overstep? How do I not sound like I just want attention?

Eventually, you settle on, “I was— … I saw the uh… scalpel, and I just… decided to use it a little bit. On myself.” Definitely not the best you can do, but what else could you say? ‘Oh, I cut myself with a scalpel because I felt guilty and if I didn’t I probably would’ve had a panic attack or a mental breakdown’?

“…” Price pauses for a moment, eyes twitching for a split second before he continues his movements to grab a cotton pad and questions you, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know what I’m asking, [c/n].”

He’s asking why you did it. There’s not one simple answer you could give him—sure, you could tell him that you felt guilty and it was a bad habit that you’ve told yourself you could stop but never tried to, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.

You can’t fully express or dictate why you do it, you just do. It’s like when you cut slits into bread before baking it. Without those slits, the bread would crack and split at the seams on its own, but with them, the splitting and expanding of the dough is controlled.

Except, with you, it’s like you’re cutting yourself before the tension building inside of you makes you burst at the seams. Taking a blade to your skin has given you a sense of control—maybe that’s why it’s so addicting, You think, it’s the only way I’ve been able to control my feelings.

But you can’t just say all of that. Well, you could, but did you want to? Fuck no.

Instead, you opt for shrugging, which doesn’t satisfy Price one bit.

“I could see you thinking about it,” He sighs, “I know you at least have some sort of real answer.”

Well, fuck. “It’s a long answer.”

“I never said it couldn’t be.”

He doesn’t move to grab the Betadine at all, instead waiting for you to talk.

You purse your lips and think for another moment before finally talking again, “I was feeling really guilty and tense, and I guess it just got too much, so I just kind of… had to. Like I felt like I was gonna fuckin’… I dunno, have a nervous breakdown or something. And honestly, it’s a really stupid reason, because the thing that I’m feeling guilty about happened like a week ago, but still—I’ve been feeling really guilty about it. It—It’s not like I can’t stop, if I tried I could, I swe—swear, and I just— it’s been really easy to just— you know? I— honestly, it’s not that big of a deal—”

“Hey, hey—” Price brings a hand to your shoulder and softens his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.”

“I ju—st… I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, quickly bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, “You’re okay. You don’t have to say sorry.”

“But I—”

“Shh.” You hadn’t even noticed how frantic your breathing had gotten during your small word vomit. And to just make things worse, there’d been tears gathering at your water line, well on their way to spilling over and creating tear tracks down your cheeks.

You can’t help but let go of all the tension in your shoulders the moment Price starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. The moment he does that, it’s practically game over for you.

Those tears spill out from the corners of your eyes and you can already feel your next breath get caught in your throat, leaving you to just let Price gently guide your head to lean forwards against his chest, letting out small hiccups and trying desperately to hold back the sobs you want to let out.

It all happened so fast, you don’t even know how you got here. One moment you were doing a good job of somewhat keeping your guard up, the next your resolve was crumbled completely by the gentle and oddly caring touch of Price’s hand.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, then someone walks in while you’re burying your head further into Price’s chest—Ghost. You can tell it’s him by the way he walks. He has long strides, he never drags his feet, and the moment he slides the curtains to the side to see you, his footsteps stop. They start up again a moment later, and he sits by your side, opposite of where Price is sitting—to your right instead of your left.

Gaz must’ve let him in while he was looking for the stapler, You think, sniffling against Price’s chest. Normally, you would’ve felt some sort of shame by now, but given the current situation, you didn’t find much room to give a shit.

You feel Price’s head move up slightly, and judging by the way he occasionally nods and sometimes moves his hands a bit, you can only assume that he’s having some sort of nonverbal conversation with Ghost right now. This conversation goes on for about a few minutes longer before you’ve managed to control your breathing a bit more.

Price can tell, and he asks just for confirmation, “Is it alright if I clean your cuts now?”

You nod and sniffle once before taking your head off of Price’s chest, looking down at your lap, simply holding out one of your blood-crusted arms to him. You can see Ghost stiffen up behind you almost immediately at the sight of it.

Price grabs a cotton pad from the jar he was handed earlier, as well as the bottle of iodopovidone, and soaks the cotton pad with said iodopovidone. Once it’s soaked with the antiseptic solution, he hesitates before pressing it to your bloody arms.

Almost immediately, you inhale a sharp breath and feel tears stinging your eyes again.

“It’s okay,” Price tries to calm you down, seeing the tears forming in your eyes again, “You’re okay.”

You sniffle and shift on the bed, trying to blink away tears that threaten to spill over your water line. Ghost, sitting by your side, puts a gloved hand over your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder. His eyes twitch as you bite the inside of your cheek to muffle another sob while Price presses another Betadine-infused cotton pad to your self-induced wounds, and although you can barely see him, out of the corner of your eye, you still catch the glint of new tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he watches you.

Gaz slips back through the curtains in front of the bed, this time with Soap in tow, and hands a skin stapler to Price. Seeing the skin stapler, something you used fairly often—often enough that the others knew how it worked and how to use it—automatically made your stomach turn.

“Told ye I’d come back for ye,” Soap murmurs, kneeling down to get about eye-level with you. You huff out the smallest laugh at his words and he gives you a small smile that makes you want to go lock yourself in a room with a scalpel and repeat what you’d done earlier all over again, his empathetic expression paining you more than taking a blade to your arm.

As a matter of fact, the expressions that you wish were pity coming from everyone around you hurts more than anything you could’ve ever done to yourself. Their concern was so unexpected—not that you don’t think they care, but you never thought they cared this much. You didn’t think that, if caught in the act, you would receive empathetic looks and solemn smiles, rather thinking that you would receive reprimanding. That you’d be punished for punishing yourself.

Price thanks Gaz silently with the curt nod of his head before turning back to you with a solemn expression that in all honesty makes you more guilty and disappointed with yourself than before. He holds the skin stapler like he would a hot glue gun, looking down at the open wounds in front of him, and holds your forearm closer to him so he can see the edges of the cuts better.

"Keep your arm like that," He murmurs, to which you respond with a nod and stiffening your arm so that it stays in the air where Price positioned it. He uses his now free hand to gently pull the edges of the cut you'd made closer together, aligning them the best he can before pressing the metal staple dispenser to the cut and pushing down on the trigger, stapling the two edges together with a click.

He holds it down for an extra second before releasing and pulling the stapler away from your skin, and although the process only took around three seconds, you'd never get used to the feeling of getting your skin stapled. You make a small, pained noise that has Soap wincing as well--as though he can feel it too--and Price looking more solemn than earlier.

“Finished with this one,” Price mutters as you swallow down another sob, holding his calloused-but-soft hand out for you to put your other forearm in. You do just that, nearly breaking into a fit of new sobs at the small ‘thank you’ Price utters.

You watch Price soak another cotton pad with iodopovidone with his free hand and suck in a deep breath as he presses it to your forearm, the originally white cotton pad almost immediately going red. Tears spill over your waterline and roll down your cheeks as he continues to clean and disinfect your wounds, and before you can move your free hand to wipe them away, Ghost does so for you, his rough gloved hand swiping below your eyes quickly.

You mumble a small 'thank you' that's barely even audible, sniffling as you can’t help but lean forward the tiniest bit into Ghost’s hand as it lingers on your cheek. He pauses, keeping it there for a second, before bringing that same hand up to the crown of your head and pushing gently on it to urge you to lean your head back. You do so, the back of your head quickly making contact with his Adam’s apple and the top of your head becoming tucked underneath his chin.

His hand goes back down to your shoulder and continues its ministrations of rubbing small circles into said shoulder, bringing you intermittent moments of comfort throughout the painful wound cleaning you had to endure.

Soap keeps a comforting hand on your knee as he’s kneeled down in front of you, his thumb occasionally copying Ghost’s, but otherwise remaining still on your knee, careful not to force you through too many different sensations at once.

Gaz watches you from by the curtain, seeming not to do and looking completely lost. He stands there for another moment, watching the others, seeing what they’re doing for a second, before giving Ghost a ‘one moment’ signal by holding up his index finger and stepping out of the curtain-surrounded area.

Right after he does, another painful sting shoots up your nerves from your forearm, and you make the mistake of looking down at it.

Wounds that only fifteen minutes ago had brought you to a calmer state of mind and were nothing more than incisions made by the scalpel you’d used to cut other people for entirely different reasons now almost hurt to look at. Once you could’ve compared them to marks left by wild animals, and you could’ve described them as though they were trophies, but now, as you stare down at them being cleaned by your own captain, they look nothing like the sort.

They don’t look like any of the pretty descriptions you’d given them. They don’t look like cat scratches you’d gotten in an accident, or like something you would get out of a fight with a bear—they don’t make you look strong and brave like you thought they did.

They look like tally marks. Sanguineous, gruesome tally marks, made by you, like you’d been counting down the days—or seconds, minutes, hours—until you’d had enough. Until you’d had enough of just carving your skin with medical equipment, and needed something more. Craved something more.

Price must notice you staring down at the wounds, because he pauses in his movements to clean them for a moment, the sudden stopping of the stinging sensation the iodopovidone-soaked cotton making you shiver. You look up at him, and see him already looking down at you, concerned.

“You’re thinking about something,” He points out softly, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

You hesitate and look back down at your arm that Price had stopped cleaning, before mumbling, “Just thinking about how these are gonna scar.” It’s not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either.

Price tilts his head to the side a bit, questioningly, “Do you know how they’re gonna scar?”

“Well, when you work in the medical field for a bit, it gets easier to tell.”

You can tell he wants to ask how they’re gonna scar, so you decide to just say, “They’re all about one-and-a-half to two inches deep, so they’ll heal fully and then scar in a few months. Once they do, they’ll be visible, but not too prominent. The scarring tissue will stick above the skin a little bit, and it’ll make it look a little bit puffy.”

“Alright,” Price hums, tone neutral, “So they’ll be… visible.”

He sounds disgusted, A voice in the forefront of your mind insists, while one from the back of your mind tries to tell you, You have no way of knowing that, just see where the conversation goes. He has no reason to be disgusted with you.

“Yeah.”

“Okay then,” Price sets the cotton pad down and grabs the skin stapler he’d been using earlier, “And it’ll take a few months to heal, you said?”

“Several months, yeah.” Price considers this for a moment, pausing in his movements to hold the stapler to your skin.

“Do you think you’ll need any help re-wrapping the bandages while they heal?” He inquires, resuming his movements after asking the question.

“…” You think for a moment, Will you?, and after a few seconds, hesitantly, you reply, “… Yeah.”

“M’kay,” Price hums softly, neutrally. “And would you want me to be the one who does it?”

You think for another few minutes. Preferably, you’d be doing them yourself, but you didn’t trust yourself enough for that—so getting one of them to do it for you is your next best option. You wouldn’t mind if it was Price doing it, but at the same time, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost, Gaz, or Soap did it either.

“It doesn’t matter,” You settle on, before tacking on, “As long as it’s one of you four.”

“Us ‘four’ being… ?”

“You, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

“Got it,” Price nods. You see Soap smile softly out of the corner of your eye before he quickly stops, trying to purse his lips into a line. He’s probably thinking that he shouldn’t be happy about that, You think, almost amused. You feel Ghost’s thumb stutter on your shoulder as well, before it starts back up normally.

Your words affect them more than you thought they would.

Breaking your train of thought, Price staples your skin with a muted click, making you wince.

It’s silent for a few more moments before Gaz finally comes back, now out of breath and carrying a bar of chocolate. He hands you the chocolate bar and says, panting, “I almost had to spar someone for that. Why do you have to like the chocolate one of the other fuckin’ Lieutenants do?”

You take the chocolate bar with your free hand gingerly and blink at it for a few moments before setting it down next to you.

“Nobody told you to get it,” You shrug, before tacking on, “Thank you, though.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, totally, hey so uh—” He looks at Soap and jabs his thumb towards where the door would be behind the curtains, “We’re both needed somewhere else. Again. They said they forgot something… again.”

“Worst fucking timing ever,” Soap grumbles, before clearing his throat and standing up, looking down at you, “Right, I’ll check in on ye later, and help ye wi’ anything ye need me tae, aye? I’ll come wi’ mair chocolate than Gaz did, ‘cause I’m better than him.”

“Got it,” You smile up at him, making him grin back and pat you on the shoulder Ghost’s hand isn’t occupying, before heading out with Gaz.

Then, you’re left with Ghost and Price.

“I should get going too,” Ghost mutters, slowly taking his hand off of your shoulder and gently pushing your head back off of his chest, almost regrettably.

“M’kay,” You watch as he gets up and hesitates, looking like he’s about to give you a hug, before he decides to instead give you a simple head nod and head out the same way the two other operators did.

And then, it was just you and Price.

It’s silent for a bit, until Price speaks up.

“You think a lot,” Price comments, finishing up the last staple.

“Does that surprise you?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

You pause for a moment before sighing through your nose, “It’s nothing. Just the same stuff I was thinking about before.”

“Wanna give me some more detail than that?”

“Not really, no,” You admit, letting your hand fall into your lap as Price lets go of it, “But I have a feeling you’re gonna want me to tell you.”

“I do.”

“It’s just something stupid, like earlier—”

“That wasn’t stupid, [c/n], that was you hurting.”

“I— I know. It’s just that this is actually stupid.”

“Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll be the judge of that.”

You think about how to phrase it in simple terms for a moment, before finally speaking, “I used to think that the scars sort of… symbolized how I was able to control myself and my emotions, and that made me feel…” You can’t think of any synonyms to make the simple words you want to say sound less childish, so you’re forced to say, “… brave. And strong. I just— I thought it showed that I was good at controlling my emotions and stuff, for some reason. But now I’m questioning all of that.”

“You’re very brave,” Price reassures you, and God, it sounds like he’s reassuring a child, “And you’re so strong. But this… this isn’t how you show that. This—cutting yourself—doesn’t make you either of those things. It doesn’t show that you’re either of those things. It shows that you need help.”

“But you just said that I was strong.”

“I did.”

“… Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“How would I be contradicting myself?” Price asks.

“You said that me— me… harming myself shows that I need help.”

“It does,” Price hums, and at your confused expression, he continues, “You needing help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Needing help and being strong aren’t connected like that.”

You open your mouth to argue but you close it, not knowing what to say. Price sees this and smiles knowingly, simply grabbing your hand to squeeze it once before getting up.

“I’ll check in on you later, okay? I need to get some stuff done, but as soon as I can, I’ll be back to keep you company. Or I’ll send someone else over—whichever you prefer.”

“M’kay,” You mumble, squeezing Price’s hand back before letting go. “You can do whatever. I don’t mind either one.”

“Sounds good.” Price pauses for a moment before leaning down and giving you a quick hug, and then beginning to slip past the curtains blocking any outsider's view of the bed you were sat on.

Before he can leave, you quickly say, "Thank you. For the wound-cleaning-thing."

He pauses at the curtain for a second, before smiling and replying, "You're welcome."

for those curious, the bthb card so far:

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elllisaaa · 11 months ago

Text

skz as love songs

-> pairing : skz x fem!reader

-> words count : 3.1k words

-> genre : fluff, hurt/comfort

-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> author's note : i really enjoyed writing this, and i might have some ideas for longer fics based on songs because of this event lmao ! hope you will like this as much as i liked writing it !

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | 1k event masterlist

BANGCHAN

-> All of Me by John Legends

"love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections"

→ You know that everytime you doubt yourself, you can count on Chan to remind you of your value, of how beautiful you are. In his eyes, you’re the prettiest girl in the world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. So he never understood how you could not see how incredible you were, how you could not see how perfect you were.

“- But I’m not perfect…”

That’s what you always answer him everytime he tells you that, and everytime, he argues the same thing.

“- Yes, but even your flaws are perfect, because you work on yourself and try to be a better person every time you make a mistake.”

And what can you say ? If you’re perfect, then Chan always has the perfect word to remind you of that, and the perfect hugs to comfort you.

"‘cause I give you all of me, and you give me all of you"

→ Because when Chan loves, it’s with his whole heart, his whole soul. When he falls in love, he falls in deep, he falls in forever. Just like he throws himself in work because he’s so passionate about it, he gives his all for his relationship, he does whatever it takes to treat you right.

“- Channie, you didn’t have to do all that…”

You were surrounded by candles and rose petals as you walked into your kitchen, your favorite meals on the counter, apparently homemade, and Chan standing in a suit in front of you, a warm smile on his face.

“- Yes, I had to. I had to show you how grateful I am to spend another year with you, because you make me so happy.”

And that’s an understatement. Everytime you kiss him, he feels like the luckiest man on earth. One day, he knows that he’ll marry you. One day, he knows that he’ll have a family with you. One day, you’ll really hold his whole life in your hands, even if you already are with the way you make his heart beat and come alive.

LEE MINHO

-> Cardigan by Taylor Swift

"you drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding"

→ Minho has always watched you very closely, knows every little shift in your mood just by your body language. He had learned every little part of you like the moves of his favorite choreo, one he’ll never get tired of, one he’ll never forget. He had taken care of you when you were at your lowest, always reminding you that it was okay not to be okay sometimes.

“- I’m sorry…

- You don’t have to be sorry for that sweetheart, it’s normal to be sad sometimes but just remember that I will always be there to support you.”

It’s like his words were magical, as if without you needing to tell him all about what you had been going through, he already knew it all. Sometimes, you wondered if Minho was an angel, because one touch from him, one word from him, and suddenly it was like you were healed.

“- Being weak is not a bad thing, it’s what makes you stronger.”

If only he knew how grateful you were to have him, because he was truly helping you become more confident and overcome your past.

"I knew you’d come back to me"

→ Sometimes, he’d have his bad times too. And even if he encouraged you to open up about it, he couldn’t follow his own advice and distanced himself from you. Minho would not be very talkative, nor would he seek your affection like he normally would. But just as much as he’s patient with you, you are with him and he’s grateful that you understand that he needs time for himself.

“- Can I be the little spoon tonight ?”

You smile at his question, and that’s all Minho needs to bury his face in your chest, sighing in relief when you hold him tight against you and run your fingers through his hair.

“- Are you ready to talk about it ?”

Mimicking you, he nodded and took some time to think before telling you what was on his mind these past days. Minho’s love was like a little cocoon, a shelter far away from the world, where you could be honest with each other and spend everyday basking in each other's presence. Sometimes, love doesn’t need words.

SEO CHANGBIN

-> I Think I’m In Love by Kat Dahlia

"I didn’t think it could be true, let alone that it would be you"

→ It’s not that Changbin doesn’t believe in love, that’s quite the opposite actually, but more so that he doesn’t have the time to think about it because of his job. But the day he met you, it was like fate giving him a sign, telling him that love wasn’t going to stay out of his life anymore. And as much as he tried to contain himself, he came to realize that maybe, he should let you enter in his heart.

“- Do you feel the same ?”

Your glazed eyes plunged in his, and even if Changbin knew you were a little drunk, he couldn’t help his heartbeat to fasten.

“- I don’t know, what are you talking about ?

- Love.”

You out of all the people he knew was the least he expected to fall for, and even less to feel the same about him. But he wasn’t mad about it. In the end, love was never logical.

"baby, I’m falling, I hope you catch me when I’ll land"

→ It’s how it felt to be with you : falling. Changbin never thought that the expression falling in love could one day find a literal meaning, but he was wrong. And Changbin also never thought that he would love this sensation, and he was wrong again.

“- Are you okay Binnie ?”

He lifted his head to look at you, smiling at him so sweetly he felt like a teenager all over again.

“- Yes… I was just thinking.

- About what ?

- How grateful I am to have you by my side.”

It was Changbin’s turn to smile when he saw your cheeks redden. But he had never been more serious. Because yes, it was a little scary to dive into the unknown like that, but it was also exciting to go for new adventures. Moreover, it was the firm conviction that you would be there with him, that you were falling with him, for him, that made it so beautiful to be in love with you.

HWANG HYUNJIN

-> Infinity by Jaymes Young

"baby this love, I’ll never let it die"

→ Hyunjin had always been a hopeless romantic, dreaming about living a fairytale since he was child. He viewed love as something enchanting, thrilling and ultimately beautiful. Nothing could ever deter him from chasing after you, because he knew for a fact that you were the love of his life, his soulmate. He knew it since the day you met, knew it since the first time your eyes crossed.

“- Don’t cry princess, I will be back in no time.

- I know, but still… I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

It was the same thing every time he prepared to leave. No matter if it was for several months or just a few days. Everytime, it felt so wrong to be away from him, and he felt exactly the same. It was just another proof that you were made for him.

“- Me too, but we’re stronger than that, you know it. We’ll always figure it out, we’ll always find a way. As long as you’re mine and I’m yours, everything will be alright.”

Loving Hyunjin was like that sometimes, like the feeling of having finally found your home.

"‘cause you’re the reason I believe in fate, you’re my paradise."

→ As an artist, Hyunjin had tons of sketchbooks filled with drawings of you. He liked to say that you were his muse, because even though he was not representing you, every piece of art he made was ultimately inspired by your person. It could be something you loved, some art style you told him you appreciated. In the end, everything was linked to you.

“- Thank you for doing this for me princess, it means a lot to me.”

You kissed his cheek with a big smile on your face, admiring the painting of you he just finished and for which you posed for hours, sparkles in your eyes.

“- I’m always happy to help you create, and everytime it turns out amazing. I’m honored to be your inspiration !”

But you were so much more than that. You were his reason to live. You were his other half. You were the reason the colors were so bright in his world. You were the reason he felt everything so hard.

“- You’re not my inspiration, you’re my muse.”

And he meant even above art. He would do everything in his power to keep you by his side forever.

HAN JISUNG

-> It’s U by Cavetown

"if you’re hurt, then I’ll fix you, if you’re blind, then I’ll describe the view."

→ Life has not always been peaceful for Jisung. Sometimes, it was hard to even go out and see other people. Sometimes, it was hard to even talk to someone else. But when it came to you, everything felt so easy, everything felt so natural. You were always willing to help him, to support him through his worst states.

“- I’m bothering you, you have work to do.

- Baby, look at me.”

Jisung obeyed and stared at your soft gaze, feeling tears pricking his eyes again. He wanted to stay here in your arms forever and never have to face reality ever again.

“- You’re more important than everything else. I’ll always be there for you. Whenever you need me, just call, and I’ll be right by your side. You can count on me.”

And you knew you could count on him too. When you were too tired to do the dishes or the laundry, he’ll do it for you. When he was too tired to wash his hair or take off his makeup, you’ll do it for him. Everything you did for him, he’ll do it for you too.

“- Thank you.”

Jisung often felt the need to tell you how grateful he was to have you in his life. Loving you was like being all cuddled in a warm blanket with a hot chocolate during a cold winter day. Loving you was comfortable.

"it’s always been you."

→ He always made fun of his friends who loved to watch these silly romantic movies where the main characters fell in love at first sight, believing that it was not real and could never happen, especially to him. But you came into his life like a hurricane, and suddenly, everything turned upside down.

“- When did you start liking me ?”

You pretended to think about it for several minutes, too long for Jisung who whined at you for being so mean to him, making you giggle so cutely.

“- I’m joking baby ! I have liked you since Chan introduced you to me. You were very charming, you know…

- You were more charming, gorgeous, beautiful. I was starstruck.”

Jisung grinned as you blushed from his compliments, but deep down, he felt butterflies erupting in his stomach all over again, just like the first time he saw you. He needed reassurance often, but when you said that type of thing, he was convinced that destiny had plans for the two of you. Even before he had known you, it had always been you.

LEE FELIX

-> In Luv With U by Finn

"I’m in love with you, more than summer and afternoons."

→ You came into Felix’s life like a sunset on a warm morning, with the sound of waves crashing on the beach echoing in the distance and the scent of the sea. It was like summer love. It was soft, natural, without overcomplication. You didn’t think too much of what was happening between the two of you, and neither Felix did. All he wanted was to make the most of your time together.

“- You can open your eyes.”

As you listened to his whispered command, you discovered that he had laid a blanket on the sand and that a picnic was laying on top of it. You turned around to smile at Felix.

“- You prepared all that just for me ?

- Why wouldn’t I ?”

You only kissed him by way of answer, running excitedly to sit on the blanket while Felix contemplated your figure from where he was standing behind you. Yeah, why wouldn’t he do that for you when you brought sunshine back in his life ? And to say that he didn’t do the same to you would be a lie. You were a perfect match.

"I don’t know where I belong anymore, I belong to you."

→ There were times during which Felix didn’t know if he made the right choices. He was the most positive person you knew, but sometimes, doubt overcame him anyway. But even when he was lost, Felix knew that he had someone to rely on, someone to talk to, someone to ease all his worries. Everytime, it felt like he was letting you see his raw emotions, but you never made him feel ashamed for that.

“- It’s okay to feel like that sometimes Lixie, and I know that you’re strong and that you’ll figure it out. You always figure it out.”

Even if he wanted to believe it, you could see that a shadow was still casting the beautiful light of his eyes.

“- And if I don’t ?

- Then I’ll be there to help you, and we’ll do that together.”

You smiled when you saw his own tugging at his lips. You were always here to remind him that no matter what happened, you would always be there. You were his focal point when he was lost, reaching out a hand for him to take and bring him back home, bring him back to you.

KIM SEUNGMIN

-> Paris in the Rain by Lauv

"‘cause anywhere with you feels right, anywhere with you feels like Paris in the rain."

→ The first time Seungmin got to Paris, it was because of work, and he knew that you would love it here. So the next time he came to visit the city, it was with you. He spent the whole trip looking at you all excited about all the things you wanted to do, looking at you like you were holding his whole world in your hands. And you kind of were.

“- Isn’t the view incredible !? I can’t believe some people get to see that everyday…

- You’re more pretty to look at, and I’m so lucky to be the only one seeing you every morning and every night.”

The blush creeping on your cheeks didn’t hold you back from returning the compliment. Seungmin didn’t know if it was the atmosphere, or the fact that it was the first time he had the chance to take you on a trip, but he felt his heart swell just knowing that he had you all for himself, that you were here with him and only him.

“- You’re so cheesy…

- Yeah, but you love me.”

And neither of you could hold back the smiles stretching out your lips.

"I look at you now and I want this forever."

→ It wasn’t rare for Seungmin to call you his wife in his head. In fact, he referred to you as that a lot as a joke, even when you were with other people. And everytime, both of you would laugh it off, even if you couldn’t help loving the idea of this silly little antic becoming reality. Because you knew your boyfriend like the back of your hand, you noticed how his ears and cheeks grew red as he introduced you to some of his friends as his wife. You smiled sweetly, not correcting him, but waited until later to talk about it.

“- So… Where’s my ring ?”

Again, Seungmin felt himself blush and whined, burying his head in the crook of your neck to hide his embarrassment.

“- I’m sorry love, it just slipped from my mouth.”

He knew that he was going to marry you one day, but he didn’t want to rush things and scare you, hell, he didn’t even decide on a ring to buy you. He wanted to wait a little longer to be sure that you weren’t a dream that will soon vanish.

“- Well, I don’t mind it as long as I really become your wife.

- I love the sound of that.”

And you did too. Seungmin couldn’t wait to be yours forever, because that’s all he ever wanted.

YANG JEONGIN

-> Dancing in a Daydream by Roses & Revolution

"it’s you and me, dancing in a daydream, just you and me, lost in the clouds."

→ Pushing open the door of your apartment, the smell of food hit Jeongin as soon as he stepped a foot inside, a smile spreading on his lips as he heard you greeting him from the kitchen. He quickly discarded his jacket and shoes before joining you, sliding his arms around your waist and spooning you into a back hug as you continued to chop off vegetables.

“- How was your day baby ?

- Exhausting… All I wanted was to be home with you, couldn’t stop thinking about coming home.”

You nobbed your head along, sliding the vegetables in your pan before turning around and cupping his face.

“- Well, you’re with me now, nothing to worry about anymore.”

Jeongin hummed happily, burying his face in your hair and holding you tight against him. Yes, just you and him, it was all he needed.

"and if I open my eyes, if I open my eyes, will it all unravel ?"

→ Jeongin tried to be as sneaky as possible in order to not wake you up as he got out of bed and went to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass and filled it up with cold water, hoping that it would help him get over this bad dream. It happened rarely, but when it did, it was always very frightening. He almost didn’t notice when you joined him, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“- What are you doing awake baby ?

- I… I just had a nightmare, don’t worry.

- You want to talk about it ?”

You sat down with him on the couch, straddling his lap and running your hands through his hair to soothe him.

“- It’s stupid really… I was coming home and you were not there, and I searched for you everywhere and couldn’t find you. It was as if you never existed. It was so scary, I felt so lost without you.

- But I’m here, yeah ? I’ll always be there, I promise, I’m not going to disappear.”

Jeongin smiled at you before he kissed you softly. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that you were his, because you were such a dream come true, and he wished to keep you by his side as long as you’ll let him.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

skz taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@binwons @minnies-babie @yoongles2025 @thicccurls @caitlyn98s @hildaortara @sharonxdevi

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lostgracestories · 3 months ago

Note

Henlo! If you're okay with it, do you have any headcanons for how Morgott and Mohg would handle the news that their S/O was captured, but nobody can find them so they are presumed dead? S/O survives but has to deal with the worst of their injuries before making it back home. I hope this isn't too specific, I just like to see how they would handle their grief for their S/O without actually killing their S/O (plus I am a hurt/comfort enthusiast). Love your writing and hope you're having a great day :)

This is so absolutely angsty and horrendous and I LOVE IT (hurt/comfort ftw <3) also thank you! I love writing for y'all!

Anyways, here's how I believe the twinsies would react to such a thing! (not proofread cause I'm lazy, lol)

wc: 871 tw: implied kidnapping, blood mention, injury, implied death, severe angst </3, honestly should I just use Elden Ring as my tw? lmao

Desperately and so Hopelessly Broken

Mohg

Mohg had been reeling over you for the past week since you had gone missing. Any and all plans he had were obliterated and all his resources went into finding you. He could not bear the thought of his little dove in danger.

Mohg could have sworn his legs had buckled when Varre returned to him with a cloth from one of your garments, soaked in blood and dirt. He was in denial. There was no body, you weren't truly gone... were you?

After three extra days of searching and turning up nothing, Mohg finally relented, to his utter dismay, and retreated into his favorite space in the mausoleum. It all felt so empty now. Every space he looked he could see you, smiling brightly and calling his pet name... "my heart"

For weeks the grief tore at him, ate him away. Some nights he refused to sleep, frightened that those awful nightmares would return, your soul seemingly haunting his very existence, ripping his heart from his chest.

When you showed up nearly a month after the horrible incident, he stared at you. It was the dead of night and your clothes were tattered and bloody. At first, Mohg thought it to be another one of his painful nightmares. That was until the familiar scent of you filled his senses. He barely remembered how quickly he had scooped you up into his arms, tears rolling past his fiery orange eye and dampening your cheek as he nuzzled into you.

You remember wincing in pain as Mohg snatched you up so desperately but the sheer relief of seeing him again washed away any pain you were feeling as you cupped his rough tear stained face in your hands. You reassured him, told him you were real, thanked him for working so hard to find you, and reminded him that none of this was his fault. After that, he never could let you leave his dynasty. And for the time being, that was fine with you.

Morgott

Morgott had made you promise to return to him before 8 that night. When the clock had passed 9, he assumed you were caught up in enjoying yourself at the shops. However, the moment the clock struck 10, he was out of his study and flying through the halls, his tail swiping all over in rapid thumps.

Morgott wasted no time in getting his cavalry men sent after you. he instructed them to leave no area undisturbed no matter how discrete it was or how small. He had even gone searching for you in the shunning grounds, a place he so very much despised. All of it was to no avail.

Weeks. Weeks it had been since you had vanished. Morgott was a mess. He had tried to distract himself by keeping up with work but none of it mattered. He couldn't keep his worries away from you. He prayed to the erdtree and frankly any God who would listen, that you would return to him safely.

When one of his cavalry men barged into his study so abruptly, for a moment, Morgott's heart raced, hope rising in his chest. He swore the plummet he experienced when he saw your bloodied travel pack in the man's hand was the most gut-wrenching feeling he had ever felt. He could smell it, it was your blood...

If Morgott had been a mess before, now he was utterly shattered. He had tried to convince himself to keep looking but he needed his men back in their positions and it had been nearly a month. The hope bleeding in his heart was merely an occasional drip now. Every time he was handed a report from his cavalry men, a piece of him held out hope that they had finally found you. But thus, it could not be so.

Morgott forced himself back to work, vigorously drowning himself in piles upon piles of paperwork, letters, contracts, etc. It was the only thing that kept his mind off of you.

Morgott nearly choked on air when one of his men came rushing to his room not short of yet another month without you. The man, armor smeared with dried blood wrenched Morgott from his seat, a knowing look washing over him when the man nodded and swiftly guided him to the infirmary.

The moment Morgott had his sights upon you, the most gut-wrenching sobs erupted from the knot he had been holding in his throat. He could barely keep his eye open as his trembling hands closing around his lover's cheeks as he took in the scent of you, the warmth of your skin, and the gentle sparkle in your eyes that he had so missed. For once in his life, the omen king could not find words and you instead offered him a soft smile, brushing your fingers over the backs of his hands to prove to him that you were alive.

After this, Morgott only let you leave if he or his projection was with you. If neither were feasible, it would take you desperately begging to convince him to let you go to the shops with one of his cavalry men. To be honest, you did not mind... it just reminded you of how much he truly cared for you.

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teecupangel · 1 year ago

Note

I'm almost sorry to add another story idea to your backlog pile, BUT:

Elijah finds out what his dad went through, manages to break into a parallel universe, time travels to the 3 eras of the main ancestors, and tries to change things enough to save Desmond. Altair, Ezio, and Ratonhnhake:ton ask this tiny, angry, sarcastic, cactus of a child why he's doing what he's doing, and he eventually explains it over time.

Desmond, on the other hand, is watching all of this through the animus: a son he didn't know existed was trying to save him. An infant who he had never met, and who had never met him, was fighting time and reality itself to save him from a fate that still hasn't been explained, was showing more care and love and compassion for him than anyone Desmond had ever known before. And it hurts, because Desmond just grows to love him more and more, but thinks he'll never truly meet him outside of a Bleed.

Elijah never seems to age, even though he spends like forty years picking on Ezio. There's a statue of him in the Monterrigioni sanctuary, and he hates it with a passion.

Just... Elijah trying to fuck up time enough to save his dad, and Desmond watching all of it both touched and heartbroken, because if he's going through all of this anyways, it was all for nothing.

Then Elijah comes out of nowhere in the Grand Temple and sucker punches Juno with a data virus he had hardcoded into their lineage's DNA over nine centuries lmao

Please never be sorry for sending me an ask. Pile as much as you want as long as you guys understand that it would take a while for me to answer them (a month or so at this point XD)

Okay, but can you just imagine if Elijah was just a teenager in this one? That would give more of a sucker punch vibe to Desmond once he learns who Elijah is.

He has the ability to time travel but he can’t control where he gets sent. His goal had been to save Desmond Miles but he made the mistake of tying his time to Desmond Miles and not to someone more stable like Rebecca Crane or Shaun Hastings.

Hell, William Miles would be a better choice.

Because…

Desmond Miles’ ‘time’ is connected to the memories he watch in the Animus, making Elijah slip in and out of certain ‘times’, following the memories Desmond watches.

Desmond assumed Elijah was one of the informants in Altaïr’s memories. It’s only when Altaïr began to see him as an annoying child who always got in the way of Altaïr’s missions that Elijah told the truth.

Why?

Because Elijah has nothing to lose from telling Altaïr the truth. He was a prisoner of time itself, being yanked time and time again. He has a theory that he was being yanked to the time in Altaïr’s life where Desmond was watching him so he figured he could give Desmond information as well using Altaïr.

It would be funny, after all.

The Isus have chosen Ezio Auditore to be their prophet.

Why couldn’t Elijah make Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad his prophet then?

And he’ll take Ezio Auditore from the Isus as well.

Maybe it was Aita’s selfishness and desire for power.

Maybe it was his very own selfish desire to have something that was truly his.

“Shall we make a deal, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad?”

“A deal?” Those golden eyes seemed to pierce his very soul.

But it didn’t matter what he saw.

He cannot begin to fathom the truth.

Not yet, anyway.

Right now, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was a man lost in a vicious snowstorm threatening to swallow him whole and pull him to his frozen grave.

He still haven’t found the warmth he was meant to have, given to him by the Calculations.

“My name is Elijah.” He said, “I am a child of Time itself.”

“What nonsen-”

“I will correctly tell you what will happen when you confront Garnier de Naplouse.” Elijah stated, making Altaïr stop from walking away from him. Altaïr turned just enough to stare at him with one of his golden eyes as Elijah continued, “And I will tell you the future you are meant to have.”

“And what do you want in exchange?”

“From you? Nothing.” Elijah admitted, “All I want is a bit of your time.”

“My time?”

“To talk to Desmond Miles.”

Altaïr frowned as he said, “I do not know anyone by that name.”

“I know.” Elijah answered with a nod, “But he’s watching you. The Templars are forcing him to watch you right now and it is because he is forced to watch you that he comes to care for you so…”

“I will help you save yourself, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.” Elijah said, “To change your fate to whatever you desire, instead of what has been laid out in front of you. In exchange…”

“All I ask is you listen to me so I can take to my father.” Elijah’s lips curved into a small smirk that felt more Aita than him, “And to commemorate my first message to my father, I believe I should tell him an important truth.”

“Lucy Stillman is a Templar who betrayed the Assassins.”

(I feel like in this case, Elijah would provide more information and let Altaïr do what he wants. He only starts to actually have a more active roll once the memory seals from ACR starts and he grows close to Altaïr’s children. By the time he gets to Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton, he’s more ‘fuck the backseat, I’m driving’ and actively helps. This ends up with Elijah finally ‘returning’ to Desmond Miles’ time just as Minerva and Juno told him what will happen if he lets the world burn and, by that point, Elijah had already completed a device that would force Juno’s consciousness to operate the device in Desmond’s stead).

#assassin's creed #ask and answer #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #elijah miles

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unforth · 1 month ago

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i don't know if you are still into 2ha? but what would you say if someone asked you what makes 2ha stand out? It's full of tropes that have been done before and there is nothing new. it's full of cliches according to some people. So, what makes it stand out?

I am still into 2ha, I'd consider it one of my top fandoms right now.

I'll own I find this whole ask rather odd? It implies that novelty is a. possible and b. what I'm looking for in a book.

For a... Name me a book that isn't full or tropes, name me a book that isn't full of "nothing new," name me a book that isn't full of cliches. Enjoyable books aren't ~original~, and imo original is a myth. It's about how the ideas are strung together, not about them being fresh and different and new.

For b... look. I'm almost 42 years old. I've been reading a ton since I was 8. I've read a l.o.t. over the years. And I've come to learn the things I love in characters and books.

Give me a main character (or, in 2ha, BOTH main characters) who thinks they're worthless and will give everything they have to save an innocent stranger. Give me archetypes of self-sacrifice and martyrdom and low self-esteem and adoration and obsession cooked so deep into their bones that it extends over multiple life times. Give me that adoration reciprocated but the pining, oh, it is mutual for these idiots who should be and will be lovers. I'll eat that up every time. Give me someone who thinks they're unlovable but loves the world anyway, and give me someone who loves them so much they'll tolerate the claws.

Give me epic length I can sink my teeth into. Make the plot sprawling, the side characters lush, the world developed. It's okay if some parts drag a little, it's hard to keep momentum over an epic, and one person's "that dragged" is another's "that rocked." Anyway, the slow bits makes the more exciting parts that much more thrilling.

Give me whump, and hurt/comfort, and pain that burns the soul. Make the characters deep and compelling and then confront them with nothing but bad choices, force them to pick... and then see them pick each other, everytime, even in the midst of the darkest night imaginable. Give me unreliable narrators and angst and characters with nobility that shines like the sun even when they're covered in shit.

I adored this kind of story when I was 12 and I started the Wheel of Time and fell in love with Rand al'Thor, and I adore this kind of story now, in Tian Guan Ci Fu and The Husky and His White Cat Shizun and Modu. The patterns in the kinds of books I enjoy most, the ones that make me feral and obsessed, are very consistent, and being Old means I know what those patterns are and I can seek out books that have them, and recognize them when I find them again. It's happening with the book I'm reading now, in fact, and I can feel the feral obsession growling in delight in my brain, lmao.

Ya know how some people go into fanfiction because they love a character and want to see iterations of them over and over a little to the left? Well, that's why I started fanfic, and through fic I found a genre of original fiction that does that for me. I want similar character archetypes in endless iterations of stories, and danmei gives that to me, and that's why I'm up to my nose in danmei fandoms, and why the specific ones I like best are my favorites.

What stands out about 2ha, for me, is that it fits my taste in character archetypes and plot type. If someone out there shares that taste, they'll probably also love it. If they don't share that taste, they may not, but they may, because it's a complex enough book to cater to more than just one specific type of taste. Someone who likes OP control fantasies will also probably like it, for example. I wouldn't recommend it to everyone, and that's not a bad thing. Stories that appeal to everyone tend to be shallow and not attract deep obsession, having sacrificed the depth to draw a wider audience.

Anyway, anon...you phrased this like an anti. 80% of your ask is trashing the book on false premises about tropes and cliches. I genuinely can't tell if this is meant as a troll or if it's sincere, but I've answered as if it's sincere. But regardless, you'll be a lot happier as a reader if you forget originality. Books aren't original. Find an author, genre, series, whatever, that fits your taste, and frolic there. That's the route to happy reading.

I've found mine. I hope you find yours.

#unforth rambles #unforth replies #2ha

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sonicblueartist · 1 year ago

Text

Rayman x Reader

A/N: He is the Rayman from the games, there is no other choice for this story, sorry~ But you can think either romantic or platonic for this :)

I'll try to make this as fluffy as I can. My angst loving soul don't know how to write fluff lmao

Writing Rayman from the games is something else for me. In really good ways

Nothing written in this story has anything to do with games plot. I wrote it all myself ;)

Summery: We both try to escape from some weird creatures

Warnings: Intense cursing

Words: 2.6k

Masterlist

Taglist: @blorbostation @eateableworm @livelaughluvvfaithyy @darkchanx @astoraa @shiroisotto64

Btw does anyone want to be in the tag list?

Dear anons; I would really appreciate it if you could choose an emoji while sending your asks and requests (and stick with it) so I can tell you apart. Thank you~

Couldn't choose between all these moments for the gif so I added every one of them (probably gonna regret that later lol Because I no longer have any good gifs for him any more but whatever.)

Seeing Rayman angry is just a cherry on top.

I am going to post this but I feel bad for not writing fluff/comfort/pure lovely moments like I planned to, so I might write down something cute for him soon~

I really wanted to write something cartoon-ish too because, you know, Rayman is very much 'cartoon-ish', he is made for that. I guess at least I made that come true instead of a full fluff.

Also, I may have relieved my exam stress on him 👀💦

On The Run

What's happening? You don't have a clue. You only knew that Rayman ran past you in the forest ten minutes ago without even stopping to say hi, he looked really panicked too you have to say. And quickly after Rayman's hand came back, finding your own and quickly sweep away your taken aback body before the spears met with you. And, well, you were suddenly included in a chase you don't have a clue about.

You two run for your dear little lives, in the meantime dodging a few spears thrown to pierce through your guts and quickly jump behind a few bushes out of breath. Hearing angry yells and screams increasing you both held your breath in. A few seconds later all of them ran past you. You heaved a relieved sigh.

What with this all about? Well, obviously you don't have all the details but you knew someone who did. You can finally question him about all this. With a scowl you turn to face him, finding him invading your personal space, not that you minded (it was funny, really), sticking to your side desperately, maybe that's not the right word to use but he was definitely, on purpose or not, sticking to you like a little kid would do to their mother, still eyeing for any intruders. If you weren’t so angry you would find that cute. Honestly at that moment, you didn't give a fuckthought. Your blood boils in anger. You weren't mad at him. You were tired and worried. Okay, maybe your tired body turning your worry into anger a bit. But you are angry at his reckless side. How wouldn't you be? You know he did something again that bothered these people. (It could also be the fact that because all people on this planet are either crazy or whatever) But it's not like he is doing that on purpose. But he still needs to be more mindful of his surroundings.

You whisper shouted, nudging his chest with your finger, causing him to look at you, "What the fuck did you do this time Rayman?!" You panthed out with a glare. Asking nicely? What is that?

He stared at you surprised (maybe a bit hurt) and huffed out, "What do you mean this time? I didn't do anything!" He scoffed, a hand over his heart with an offended tone.

You rolled your eyes at that and glanced outside, you quickly duck seeing more of them walking past the bush. You cursed under your breath. Thankfully they were dumber than they look.

You glanced at him, "Why do they want you?" You whispered with a hiss.

He smirked, "Who knows! I mean I can't blame them. Everyone wants me!" Here he goes again, you were being dead serious and he starts joking.

You stared at him with the most dumbfounded and sour expression you ever weared, "They fucking want your guts out, you idiot! Don't start with me with those cheesy lines!”

He mushed his lips and stared at you. You stared back with a raised brow. He couldn't hold his stare much longer with how you're glaring at him and finally grumbled out defeated, hiding away from your intense stare, "Okay, okay fine! It might be... a little bit my fault."

You scoffed, "A little bit?”

"I admitted didn't I?”

"What did you do?"

He avoided you with a comedic sweat, "Ahhh…”

"Rayman. What Did You Do?”

"You're going to be so mad." He chuckled nervously.

You can't be more mad then you already are. But again, your expression softened with how actually nervous he looked about all this. You knew he felt guilty. You know him after all. You let out a long silent sigh and reached out to hold his hands, pressing your thumbs over the back of them, kind of stroking to ease him up, "Rayman, I promise I will not yell at you anymore then I already did. Just tell me. I need to know." You sounded more like reassuring yourself then him. Did you forgive him? No? You don't know what you are even forgiving him about! But you did actually soften up on him.

He didn't believe that but confessed anyway, "I uh... might... accidentally woke up a whole civilization??" He sounded unsure of himself.

You stared at him, and he stared back.

"What... the fuck?" What does that suppose to mean?

He laughed, "I said the same thing until you find me and drag me away, my divine savior~" Wasn't that the opposite?

You sighed and grabbed the bridge of your nose, "I feel like I am gonna regret asking this but... how?"

He tapped his chin, "Well, I also have no idea! I was walking around the forest a few hours ago then I found myself in the underground. I guess the ground may have shifted or the place I was standing in collapsed. Either way I find myself exploring the cave to find a way out and, well, that's how I find the burrow. And here we are!" He continued despite seeing your progressive disturbed expression, "They were really aggressive and grumpy, I think they want some kind of revenge for disturbing their sleeping ritual or something—”

You reach your hand and shut him up with a tired face, "Okay, I think that's enough information. We are gonna think of something now. We need to avoid them and find a way back to send them whatever place they come crawling from. Okay..." You muttered to yourself.

Rayman grabbed your hand off of his mouth and muttered your name.

"Not now, I am thinking.”

"But-”

You sushed him, "No, nope, sush, no talking! I don't wanna listen! Just lemme think!”

He stared at you unamused but his expression quickly changed to something nervous. He called out your name again this time a bit louder.

You groaned, rubbing your face, "Ray, What part of "be quiet" don't you understand? What do you want?! You want them to find us?!”

He choked out, "Ahh, about that…”

"Look I only wanted a peaceful day today, getting chased by a crazy herd, not what I had in mind- annnd.... They find us, didn't they?" You sighed.

He nodded, "Pretty much." Soon enough all kinds of sharp-tipped spares were extended towards from all sides. You both quickly raised your hands in the air, surrounded by them. You cursed under your breath not amused at all.

"Well, this could have gone much worse.”

You soon find yourselves in a cell, soon to be turned into a chewing toy. Surrounded by many of them readying the meal you will be in today.

"You have to jinx it, didn't you?" Before he can open his mouth again you threatened showing a rock, "If you open your mouth one more time I swear I’ll force this inside your mouth—”

He raised his hand, "Jeez, alright, alright. I am sorry! What got into you today?” He knew you wouldn't actually do that. You love him too much for that. (But, did you have it in you? Yes. Would you actually do that if he was someone else? Most definitely. Is he afraid of this fact? Absolutely. He definitely know to not underestimate you.) He couldn't help but admit that it sounded so absurd coming from you in that moment though. It also shouldn't amused him but it did.

You forced a short laugh, "What got into me? Oh, lemme think." You sarcastically mumbled, mocking him and tapped your chin as if you were thinking.

He frowned, not letting you start sorting it all out, "Okay, okay. I get it. I said sorry, didn't I? It was lame of me to even ask that. Sorry for trying to be nice.” He stuck his tongue out playfully.

"A sorry not gonna save us from becoming a MEAL OF THE DAY!!" You groaned.

He hummed and shrugged, "I wouldn't worry much. After all this isn't the first time I was imprisoned.”

You stared at him, "We saved your ass when you were imprisoned."

"Saved me?" He smirked, "If I remember correctly, which I know I am, you and Globox were also imprisoned for the sake of saving me, I am touched really. Though it was a weak plan, assuming being held captive was part of your idea~"

You grumbled grimacing, "It was Globox's idea. I didn't have anything better to do so I just followed along. BUT we did save your ass didn't we? That's what counts! Besides, I'm not seeing you having any bright ideas!!”

"Who said I didn't have any?" He grinned, noticing your pause.

You give him a face, "If you had a plan this whole time... WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST SAY SO?!" God, so that’s why he has been acting so relaxed! He has always been some kind of a laid back person, but this would be too much (Not counting the fact that he knows when to strike). In fact, he should have been happy that he had a reasonable explanation for this situation because you were about to slap him hard for how careless he had been so far and how careless he had been all day.

"Calm down! It was a work in progress and now I am not gonna jinx it again. So, are you in or not?”

You give him a side glare at him and turn away.

He sighed, "Look, I am sorry. Sincerely, coming from the deepest of my heart. I really didn't mean to cause all this. It's also my fault that you are involved in my mess too. So, at least let me help to fix it, okay? You can kick my ass after this." He kind of dragged you away, yes, but it was to save you and you were thankful that he did (how wouldn't you?) but that doesn't mean he is also the one to start all these.

You heaved a sigh, and shook your head with a soft smile, "Lead the way, eggplant." You grinned seeing his little eye roll. You definitely gonna remember the last thing he said.

“I will save us. That’s a promise.” He sounded even more genuine.

“Yeah, yeah. You better be. I don’t wanna end up as a snack before bedtime. So, care to tell me the plan?”

He grinned mischievously, a determined glint in his eyes, "You will find out soon enough. You know me. It's not that complicated to figure out. Even better when you know they are not too smart to figure out."

You raised a brow not fond of him still depriving you of an explanation. But you guessed it was better to leave like that seeing those creatures still roaming all around.

Soon after your 'nice' conversations you both find yourselves tied up together in a cauldron full of water with a fire burning underneath. The creatures throwing chopped vegetables on you.

Your unamused expression hardened, "How much longer are we going to wait?" You grumbled. "They are slowly cooking us alive!"

"Yeah, I won't be a good dinner for them. You have more areas where they can chew off." You swear he was laughing behind you. You growled and hit him in the head with your own, you had no other option. Your arms were tied. "Don't start again! I'm serious! I'm starting to get worried. My feet are burning!”

He hissed in pain, "Sorry, force of habit... or maybe coping... either way..." he took a sharp breath, "My plan gonna work."

"You are not even doing anything! What kind of plan is that? Just admit already that you have no idea how we can get out of this station!”

"No, because I do. I'm just waiting for the right moment.”

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, yeah. And I believe that. I am sure you do-- Wait a fucking moment." You hissed. You can't belive you forget about his ability, "You fucking have control all over your body! Whatever the floaty, gravity bending thing you do! You can easily get out of this rope!! They only tied our bodies, not hands or feet! Fuck! Why didn't you do something about this earlier Rayman?! Are you trying to piss me off on purpose! I swear---" Your words are stuffed inside your mouth, literally. One of the creatures got annoyed (or tired) of your talking and harshly pushed an apple in your mouth. Your eye twitched in annoyance. Rayman glanced back with a stuffed laugh. Okay, maybe you did deserve this but you are not gonna admit that. You gave him a death glare and he quickly looked away. But you still heard his stuffed snickers and feel his shaking body.

He nudges your side with his hand and your eyes quickly widen, "For your concern, ya think I would forget about something my own body capable of since forever? I already handled that. And for your nice question, like I said, I am one step ahead of you, darling~" he quickly hid the key before one of the creatures could see and cautiously examined the surroundings carefully.

He whispered, "When I came back here there was no way out of this place but the hole I fell down from. Thankfully, I was able to crawl back out but there is no sight of that hole anymore so I am gonna assume they blocked it. So there is only one option left for us to choose. What we're gonna do is, use the real door. The one I couldn't pass before. And for that we needed the key. Though one of us is gonna need to distract them while the other opens the door. Then we both escape and lock them in here, like it should have been." You're gonna kick his ass for not telling you about this sooner and made you believe that he actually didn't have any clue. Though you didn't know which one is good, his acting for the sake of the creatures (you have no idea what they are) not notice? Or him playing with you just for fun. Actually... you were happy that he did have a plan. Because it would be the worst tragicomic death in the hero's history.

His eyes widened when he felt your weight on his back... more than normally. You two were back to back forcefully pressed together yeah but... you were leaning on him? In relief? Comfort? He didn't know. But he couldn't help his lips turn into a soft smile.

"Well, I might ruin our moment here..." he trailed off. "I love hot baths as much as the next person but we should get moving. I don't think I like vegetable soup especially if we are in it.”

He felt the vibration of your laugh on his back causing his smile to widen. He glanced back at you with a smirk, his hand helping you to remove the red apple as he whinked.

"You ready to kick some little ass?" Those green creatures were nearly half of your height. You still can't believe how you two get caught that easily. You two were unprepared. But this time will be different.

You smirked, "It's always so nice to fight alongside you.”

"That's good to hear because I really needed that." He hummed as he slowly unwrapped the tight rope from around both of you, "You know, thinking our situation it's both humiliating and funny as hell. It could be our little secret. How's that sound?”

"Like heaven, and also the thought of what I can do after I get back home. Sleep all day long. Sounds good, huh?" You snickered knowing that's exactly what he will do too.

"After kicking my ass?”

You held back a laugh, "You want to be beaten up that much?” You pressed your back on his on purpose this time with a smirk.

He glanced back at you, "I think all the fighting we are gonna do here will be enough.”

"Agreed." You both jumped out of the cauldron within a fighting stance, raising up your fists.

You bawled, "Who wanna have some of these?" You showed your fists.

The creatures stood staring. Soon all screamed a war cry running towards you. You two smirked and launched.

#rayman x reader #rayman #cl rayman #allenwrites #reader #x reader #captain laserhawk rayman #phantom show rayman

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kaylaz-world-00 · 1 year ago

Text

Rayman x Reader

A/N: He is the Rayman from the games, there is no other choice for this story, sorry~ But you can think either romantic or platonic for this :)

I'll try to make this as fluffy as I can. My angst loving soul don't know how to write fluff lmao

Writing Rayman from the games is something else for me. In really good ways

Nothing written in this story has anything to do with games plot. I wrote it all myself ;)

Summery: We both try to escape from some weird creatures

Warnings: Intense cursing

Words: 2.6k

Masterlist

Taglist: @blorbostation @eateableworm @livelaughluvvfaithyy @darkchanx @astoraa @shiroisotto64

Dear anons; I would really appreciate it if you could choose an emoji while sending your asks and requests (and stick with it) so I can tell you apart. Thank you~