#struggling on thr next snippet

[milkyplier]

Rescue Ranch AU - Legend (Mountain)

Legend sits up, and the world swirls around him in smears of blues and greens and blacks. He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen to the side until his arm connects with the ground and send shockwaves through his body. Nausea rises in his gut, so he sits there, closing his eyes and trying to take deep breaths to try and tame it. It’s less than effective, with each inhale sending sharp stabs of pain through his chest. Eventually, it simmers back down on its own, and Legend tries again to sit up, much more carefully this time. He’s only sat fully up for a few seconds when there’s a low, familiar nicker and a velvety nose pushing against his shoulder.

“M’okay, Raven,” Legend mumbles, reaching out blindly to tangle his fingers in her mane. “S’okay, lady.”

He takes in a few more barely-steadying breaths. His head throbs badly enough that it’s messing up his vision. Raven brushes her nose against him again, evidently less than pleased with his answer. He touches the right side of his face, and his fingers come away sticky with blood. He winces at the sight, and that is when the anxiety begins to set in. He’s bleeding, probably has broken ribs and a concussion, and it occurs to him that he did not immediately remember what caused it or where he is.

He has no idea how long he’s been out; his lack of urgency was plenty of time for some infected monster to sneak up on him. With that, he gets a better grip on Raven’s mane and uses her to steady himself as he gets to his feet. She stands still, patiently supporting him and shoving her nose against his stomach when he’s fully standing. She probably just wants treats, but Legend leans some of his weight across her face and uses it to catch his breath. Again, she stands still until Legend straightens again, running a hand through her mane and murmuring praises to her.

Now standing, Legend takes a look around. He’s on a mountain, a familiar path he’s ridden a hundred times before. To his left, the path continues, clear, further into the mountains. To his right, where the path would have lead them out of the mountains and onto Legend’s own land, the path is covered in a lot of rocks.

*

A cruel cackles precedes the rumbling on the mountainside, drawing Legend’s attention up. His blood runs cold as he spots the monsters, a Moblin and a Bokoblin, at the top of the slope, pushing and hitting rocks until there’s a full-blown mini landslide rushing down the slope towards Marin and Legend. Legend redirects his gaze to Marin, who’s riding in front of him, and she makes eye contact with him. Her browns eyes are wide with terror, and that snaps Legend into action.

“Run!” He yells at her. “Go, gallop!”

He turns Raven to the left sharply, but he’s unable to bring himself to turn her away fully and start moving—that would take his eyes off Marin. He watches as Marin spurs her gelding forward, and the first rocks begin to smash against the mountain path, spooking the horse. It delays her escape and for a split second, Legend is frozen. Fear, grief, rage and sheer helplessness create a toxic mixture, running like fire through his veins and freezing his lungs. The image of Marin, fighting to guide her horse through the chaos, is the very last thing he sees before pain explodes in his right temple—and the world shatters like porcelain against a black backdrop.

*

“Marin!?” He shouts instinctively, the memory triggering his adrenaline. He forgets instantly how much his body hurts, how very little strength he has to put towards more than trying to breathe through the pain. “Marin, where are you?!”

His voice echoes through the mountains mockingly, and he turns around sharply at the sound of a responding monster’s screech. The monsters that tried to kill him, and they didn’t sound happy that it hadn’t worked. Legend sees a Moblin and a bokoblin picking their way down the steep slope they’d been camped on. The bokoblin reaches him first, its size allowing it to traverse the pathway down with less care than the Moblin.

Legend unsheathes his sword, shooing Raven out of harm’s way and bracing himself against the creature. Legend’s rage and the ‘blin’s reckless strategy of throwing itself repeatedly at him enables him to take if down with relative ease, but he knows the Moblin will be a different story. He’s buzzing with too much adrenaline to feel his injuries, but he knows he’s less than prepared to take on a creature as big as a Moblin—especially when it’s methods of attack are the same as the Bokoblin, just more effective.

That considered, he sheathes his sword and instead pulls out his short shotgun. He waits for the cursed Moblin to get closer before there’s the satisfying click of the safety turned off, and then the blast that reverberates through the valley. In the time it takes the Moblin to recover, Legend has dumped the first two shells and reloaded. Another shot, two more shells, two more bullets, one last shot, and the creature is on the ground, a sizable hole in its gut. It isn’t dead, though, bur Legend’s sword through its throat fixes that.

He sheathes his sword again and watches the monster bleed out until he’s certain it’s dead, and then he looks up and frowns. The pressure of urgency rests on his chest; he was doing something important. The monsters must have distracted him, and now he’s going to get back to what that original thing was…as soon as remembers. He looks back at the rocks in the path, and for the second time that day it hits him like a sack of bricks: Marin.

“Marin?!” He calls again, hurrying towards the rocks. He hears no reply, he searches the pile of rocks and he sees nothing. He looks down into the valley, where the landslide fell, and his stomach twists unpleasantly. He was knocked out fairly early in the rockslide, but if he remembers, Marin was in position to be caught right in the middle of it…he banishes that thought and begins to pick his way down the mountain. He has to find her, he will find her.

And he tries. He really does. The night drags on, further and further, and Legend searches and searches and searches, up and down the mountainside, over rocks and calling out her name, over and over and over again. She never answers, and he never finds anything. Not a lock of hair, not a scrap of her shirt. Nothing.

He climbs back up onto the path for the last time, and he doesn’t realize he’s falling until he’s hit the ground and shockwaves are running through his body. He feels shaky and lightheaded, nausea returning full force. It hurts to breathe, the urge to pant stopped by how painful it is. He groans softly as the full effect of worn-off adrenaline, and the consequences of pushing himself when he should not have, hits him. He lays there for a long and unmeasured amount of time before a hitched breath triggers a coughing fit, and when it ends, the coppery taste of blood brushes the back of Legend’s tongue and he knows he can’t neglect himself any longer.

He sits up, slow and sore, and calls Raven over. He once again uses her to get himself standing, and then he is faced with the near impossible task of mounting her. His body is heavy and protests the movements, and when he swings himself up and settles into the saddle there are a few long sections in which Legend has to just grit his teeth and put all his effort into remembering how to breathe. And with that, begins the trek home, up the slope and around the rocks, and then onwards up the path closer to the mountain’s exit. His chest feels hollow as he leaves, his instincts screaming at him to stop and go back and keep looking until he finds something. But, if Legend were to be totally honest, even through the haze of pain and exhaustion and grief…he can’t quite remember what he’s supposed to be searching for.

[dear-mimii]

lest x enforcer!reader

pairing! lest x enforcer!reader

about! after that attack on the council building, your arm was nearly shot. good thing that you're working for Councilor Salo, because you picked up some helpful information...

cw! mentions of nerve pain/ damage

word count! 1.1k

an! reblog because tumblr had the AUDACITY to give me a content warning!!! HAPPY 100 FOLLOWERS PEOPLE!!! this is a official/unofficial gift to you all for the support! ok I KNOW a thousand words is a bit more than usual, but i didn't want to write three whole parts and i just HAD to write in the details about the injury, attention to detail people.

why must you be so… determined? prideful? stubborn? stupid?

those were the words swirling in your head as you sat in carriage with Councilor Salo— your principal. ever since the attack on the council building by jinx, which resulted in Councilor Salo’s inability to walk, he was especially paranoid and requested a personal security detail from the Enforcers. seems easy, right? following around a councilor to a bunch of cushy parties and just standing around places. it would be if you weren’t also injured from the attack.

trauma to the brachial plexus, is what the doctor told you. apparently it wasn’t severe, but it definitely felt severe. some days were better than others, with just numbness, tingling and just regular weakness in your non-dominant arm and hand. other times, in the middle of the night you’d wake up to shooting pain, often followed by your arm being asleep for nearly an hour after you woke up. you struggled to hold your gun properly, reloading was a battle of its own, but of course, you wanted to prove yourself capable after your mandatory time off. so when this job came up, you eagerly agreed.

working for Salo, you heard some… interesting things. most intriguing for you, a mysterious… healer? you often heard him and his assistant talk in whispers about his “next session” or something about his legs, it was mostly snippets of finished conversations, so you didn’t pick up much. until you did piece it together. sometimes, Salo would request to go out to brunch or shopping with just his assistant—insisting that the constant presence of Enforcers made these activities “less entertaining.” but, you found out instead of going out to a cafe, Salo was going to the undercity, or rather, a place undercity adjacent. along with that, you heard the word “shimmer” more than a few times.

a healer from the undercity, who has something to do with shimmer? because that sounds trustworthy.

yet here you were, as skeptical as you were, quietly following Councilor Salo towards this healing place. you saw him go in, heard the faintest murmur of voices, but you couldn’t go in just yet—surely he would recognize you. so, you were just standing outside, trying to look busy to people who passed.

“tch, what the hell am i doing here? i just need to go home, it’s probably just a scam for rich people.” you grumbled to yourself as you waited idly outside.

finally, what felt like an hour passed, and you heard the familiar rolling of Salo’s wheelchair obliviously roll past you. with a deep breath, you made your way to the entrance, opening the creaky door. a woman was there, walking back and forth between rooms, not really noticing your presence (intentionally or unintentionally, who knows?).

your voice came out a bit higher than you wanted it to, “hello?” you cleared your throat, already feeling out of place. “i came for a… treatment?”

the woman with large… almost cat like ears finally looked up at you, and it felt like in a few seconds she knew exactly why you were here.

“left side of the hallway, third room.”

words caught in your throat as you tried to come up with some kind of response, even a small “thank you”, but for some odd reason you were really clamming up.

you pushed past a curtain, entering a calming room, much like the atmosphere of the building as a whole. candles emitted a soft glow and comforting aroma throughout, casting blurry shadows across the walls. a long, red sofa was in the center was embroidered with scattered flowers and leaves. various things were strewn about, curtains, a small end table, hanging lanterns and so on and so forth. you took a seat on the sofa, keeping your hands in your lap nervously as you waited, eyes flickering to different objects in a mostly futile attempt to occupy yourself.

a few minutes later, she entered with two pristine, folded white towels in her arms. the cat eared woman put the towels on the sofa next to you. “please take off your clothes. when you lay down, use these to cover yourself.”

before you could question her, she slid the curtain that acted like a door, not walking far. this was probably on the top five stupidest things you’ve ever done, yet, after making sure the woman really couldn’t see you, you turned around and slid off your shirt. your arm barely made it halfway up before a jolt of pain forced you to stop, breath stuttering. you cursed under your breath, wrestling the shirt off with your good hand, praying she couldn’t hear the struggle.

your trousers weren’t as much as a problem (at least the nerves there weren’t fried). settling on the sofa carefully as to not jostle your arm too much, using your other to drape the towels around your chest and juncture of your thighs. after a few minutes, what seemed like on cue, she entered once again, this time with a small brass jar and a paintbrush. sitting down the jar and brush, she kneeled on the floor by your chest.

“it”s Lest,” she paused, her voice sure yet soft. “my name is Lest, i meant. may i? i just need to feel where it hurts.”

hesitantly, you nodded, allowing Lest to touch your arm. her fingers grazed your inner bicep, and you let out a hiss from the pain of what felt like a live wire imbedded in your muscle. it was embarrassing—to be in some random building in the undercity, shirtless, and from the faintest touch your nerves burned. you’re sure Lest could sense the pain, embarrassment, but she just hummed in response. she gradually went down your arm to your wrist, earning some of the same reactions; jerking, flinching, sudden tension. it didn’t seem like a way to diagnose anything specific to you, but Lest looked like she knew more than you when it came to this.

Lest picked up her jar and paintbrush, and you breathed deeply before closing your eyes. as soon as the first bristle of the brush hit your skin, an immediate, blinding white sensation bloomed outward all throughout your arm. it wasn’t the usual pain—far from it more than anything. and it wasn’t inherently… euphoric either. for once since the incident, you didn’t feel anything, no pain or discomfort, and that alone was better than anything in the world. the tension in your body melted away like ice on a hot day, and a sigh left your now relaxed lips without you even realizing.

the next time you came back, it was for the pain again

the third time, totally for the pain… is what you told yourself.

and at this point you simply lost count, you couldn’t even think of an excuse to give yourself.

and every time you darkened her doorstep, Lest just gave you a small, indulgent smile.