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revenant-dumpster-fire · 3 years

Text

Flower (Revenant x Reader)

[For AO3 archive, click here.]

Theme: Loneliness and depression are a painful but wicked combination after you have to talk about your past when you don’t want to. No matter how optimistic your friends might be, it doesn’t really fix anything.

Warnings: Graphic content, references to sex, references to past assault, references to noncon, male dominance, threats of violence, descriptions of violence, sharp objects, pain, post-traumatic stress disorder, bipolar, depression, mania, fluff.

Reader's Notes: Revenant (Apex Legends) x Reader, reader is female.

Writing Notes: What the fuck is a plot?

Navigation:

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You wake up to the sun fully over the skylight window, shining brightly into your eyes. You groan as you realize what time it must be. Closing your eyes only reminds you how thin your eyelids are, as the only color you see is a fleshy red rather than the lovely darkness you wish you could experience. You pull your arm over your eyes and experience the darkness again, if only for a few precious moments.

As you come to, you remember what you did last night and feel a weird sense of concern overcome you. That wasn't a dream, was it? You are lying here without clothes on, after all, and you don't exactly feel clean either. It definitely happened. You panic a little and jolt up in bed, holding the blanket to cover you as you scan the room. You're alone, and there's no sign of where Revenant could be.

You review the events of yesterday to yourself. You remember Revenant taking apart his old chassis and saving some of the parts from it. You remember teasing him until he tied you to a chair using his scarf, although you remember kinda deserving that. You snicker to yourself, remembering how he called you a "bully" to Sherry. Yes, you definitely bullied the giant, metal simulacrum built to kill. You remember Revenant left you pizza that was good enough that a blatant murder couldn't distract people from it, and then you remember chasing it down with too much vodka. You remember Revenant covered in blood at some point after that, then Pathfinder showing up, then falling asleep alone...? That last bit doesn't make much sense, but there was probably a decent reason for all those things happening together. Then you remember waking up in the middle of the night and definitely remember Revenant gently loving on you to the fullest extent.

You've never actually thought you'd be open to sex at all. Especially considering all you've been through, it's amazing you trusted Revenant enough to let him do that to you. You take a deep breath to yourself. It's too easy to be anxious about experiences like this, especially when they tread such a close line to your past traumas. In reality, you don't regret anything, you've just surprised yourself. The main concern now is why would Revenant run off immediately after a night like that?

Maybe you'll feel better after a shower and cleaning stuff up a bit. After all, you've learned that dwelling on discomfort only leads to more confusion and generally a breakdown. That's the last thing you need right now. No need to ruin something that should be a positive experience with an anxiety-riddled spiral into depression. Imagine losing your mind all because Revenant had some errand to run today. That would be silly.

You get out of bed and scurry to the bathroom, finding some used towels hanging to dry. You're not sure if they're the ones you used or the ones he used, but it doesn't really matter. He's made of metals, plastics, silicones, and PVCs. It's not like his towels are going to have anything gross on them. You grab the closest one and quickly change your mind when you notice the red streaks across it. That's blood, and it's not like it could possibly be his. You throw it to the corner of the tile floor to remind yourself to wash it later. The other towel must have been yours, because there's no blood on it and it's considerably drier than the other.

You turn the shower knobs and wait patiently for the water to warm up, taking a moment to brush your teeth while you wait. Ever since he went on a long tangent about shaving, you can't help but eye his razor case when you see it. You wouldn't dare touch it since you know how much it means to him, but you'd like to see it at some point. The steam starts to fog up the mirror, so you quickly finish with your teeth and jump in the shower. You rapidly clean yourself with as much soap as you can manage to lather into your hair and skin.

You nab the clean towel and dry yourself off, spending an excessive amount of time trying to dry your hair as much as possible. You made the right call, a hot shower helps a lot with anxiety. You leave the bathroom and rummage through your bag for the most comfortable pair of shorts and shirt you own. You notice you're a bit shaky and sore from the night before, but it's nothing you can't handle. As soon as you're dressed and your hair is brushed enough to be detangled, you consider yourself put together enough. Nothing wrong with a lax day for laundry and lounging about.

You grab the towels from the bathroom; the sheets, blanket, and pillowcases off the bed; your clothes you found in the corner of the room; a bloody old towel from the kitchenette; and a small pile of your dirty clothing from the past couple days and wrap them together in the comforter, dragging the giant makeshift bag of dirty laundry down the quiet hall into the laundry room. It seems like the trios match was as violent throughout as the ending was--there is not a soul in the hallway, meaning the infirmary must still be quite full. The only Legends you know are back from the match are the winners--Revenant, Wattson, and Wraith--as well as Pathfinder. That makes sense, after all Pathfinder just needs some repairs to be good as new since he's a MRVN, which can be performed hours after any match.

The laundry room has only one dryer running, echoing a mundane hum in the large room with the uncanny beat of the contents turning over repeatedly. You find a few washing machines in the far corner of the room and start separating the delicate items from the colors from the bleach-worthy whites. Thankfully, all the blood-soaked towels were once white, so they get a washing machine all their own along with the sheets. You pull the detergents and bleach out of the cabinet and start over-soaping all the loads, setting the timers to start each machine as they fill with hot water. Steam starts pouring into the room: commercial-quality washing machines are able to use tons of near-boiling water to sanitize anything inside of them. The room's vent fans kick in to try to keep the room's humidity low, but the fans will definitely struggle to keep up.

The door to the laundry room opens and Sherry shuffles in, bags under her eyes and likely hungover from a night of celebrating Wattson's victory. She's too foggy to notice you, so you shuffle over to her.

"Hey, Sherry! Drink too much last night?" You chime, Sherry weakly holding her head.

"Ugh, yes. And that stupid pizza didn't help. It was so perfectly greasy that I couldn't feel how drunk I was getting." She moans, making her way over to the only running dryer.

"So, this is all Revenant's fault then?"

"Absolutely, you and your stupid metal man always conspire to make me worry or drink myself into a stupor because of good pizza." She manages to put just a little sarcastic tone to her voice, but is clearly struggling through her headache. "So, why aren't you hungover? After what I saw yesterday, I was sure you'd bully Revenant into a drinking contest until he tied you to the ceiling vent."

You chuckle, it sounds almost too wild to be accurate, but you've learned that testing Revenant's limits always leads to the unexpected. Sherry continues, a sudden glint showing in her eye.

"So, since you didn't drink to celebrate, then you obviously must have--"

"Sherry--!" You try to shout over her, knowing exactly where she's going with this.

A devilish look creeps across Sherry's face, almost wiping out her hungover grimace. She dashes away from you and towards the running washing machines, leaving you stunned just long enough that you can never hope to catch her. She throws the lids open of all three, pouring steam into the room and all over her face, but she doesn't wince at all. The hot steam almost seems to invigorate her more.

"Sheets! I fucking knew it!" She laughs maniacally, her face red and moist from shoving her face in the billowing plume of vapor. She slams the lids shut, letting them clang loudly as the agitators begin to whir back to life after being interrupted. "You did it! You finally did it!" She scurries back to you with the energy and erratic movements of a cockroach, finally reaching you to shove her finger against the tip of your nose. Her wicked grin is now in full form, only enhanced by the deep purple hues under her eyes.

"Sherry, it's not that big of a--" You start, trying to be honest but not let her go where she's definitely going.

"Ohohoho, yes it is! This is proof that you can move past your assault! It's huge! It means you're working past your traumas!" Her excitement makes her sound much louder than she actually is. "And it makes me feel so much better about this whole fling you're having, since Revenant was understanding of it all." She twirls away with her arms outstretched, as if to praise some unseen angels.

"Sherry, he doesn't know." You mumble half-heartedly, hoping she might ignore you. She whips her head back in a fury, which must hurt with her hangover.

"You didn't tell him anything?!" Now she's loud. "What were you thinking?! I get that you don't need to tell just anyone, but don't you think you should have told him so he'd know to take it slow?!" She grabs you by your cheeks and pivots your head to meet her eyeline. "What if he did something that caused a breakdown?! He wouldn't have had any clue why, and he wouldn't have been able to help you!"

"Sherry, it's oka--"

"No it isn't! That's not fair to either of you! You can't just let someone go waltzing through a minefield because you're not sure how to tell them that you had some fucked up shit happen to you!" She pulls you into a massive hug, shoving your face into her chest per usual, since it naturally lands there due to your height difference.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to yell at you, but you seriously need to be careful." She softens, sighing as she realizes you're shivering a little. "Look, if you don't know how to tell him, I will do it for you."

"Thanks, but I think I have to do it." You sigh, recognizing she's right. "Honestly though, the only thing I remember is the rag and then waking up in the hospital." You pull away from her, ensuring she can hear you clearly.

"I know you may not think it's a big deal since you can't remember much, but what happened to you is absolutely traumatizing." Sherry wipes away a tear you didn't even feel escape your eyes. "Seriously, if you really like Revenant, you should tell him what you remember and what you know, even if it's hard." Now you feel the emotional hurt, and you hate this. Everything was fine, but now it isn't, and you're struggling to keep your composure.

"I wish I didn't have to. I don't like talking about it. I didn't even do anything wrong, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why do I have to confess it like it's some crime I committed? It's not fair!" Now you start to cry, and Sherry hugs you again, drying your tears with her shirt. She pets your head and hair, trying to comfort you in any way she can.

"Like I said, I'll do it if you need me to." She sighs while holding you tight. You don't intend to pull away until you've calmed yourself anyway. "I guess you don't really have to tell him, but I really think you should..." She trails off, trying to undo any harshness from before. You feel her face bury into your hair as she holds you closer.

You manage to pull yourself together, the despair slowly releasing its hold on you, even if the sense of doom does not. You have no idea how you're going to tell Revenant anything. How do you even start such a conversation? What if he thinks you should have told him before, like Sherry does? Will he feel betrayed? Or will he understand? The knot in your gut stiffens more.

Sherry holds you until you naturally pull away, rubbing your eyes and now looking worse than the hungover woman in front of you. Sherry looks at you with very concerned eyes that betray her wary smile, clearly trying to cheer your spirits despite her honest concerns.

"I'm sure it will be okay. After all, you managed to open up to him already in a way." Sherry sheepishly encourages you, placing her hand on your shoulder. She takes a deep breath, clearly feeling her aches again, but continues to try to bring you back from the brink of despair. "I bet you opened up real nice for him last night, didn't you?" Her teasing is missing its usual edge, but you can't help but appreciate her effort. You chuckle a little at how hard she tries.

"Didn't have to when he can do it for me." You banter back, taking pity on her weakened state.

"Your little rendezvous must have made quite the mess to have to wash the whole bed, huh?" You shouldn't have given her the inch, she fully plans to take a mile.

"Sherry, why must you do this to me?" You ask, rolling your eyes, turning away to help her with her laundry in the dryer. She could use the help, there's no way she feels well.

"Did he pull out? Is that why you needed to wash the whole bed?" She pauses as you actively try to ignore her, pulling her miscellaneous clothing from the dryer and placing it on top of the machine. Sherry doesn't quit. "Wait, if he's mechanical, can he even cu--"

"Sherry! That's gross!" You interrupt her.

"The pursuit of knowledge isn't gross!" Her energy is back now that she's found a foxhole she plans to dig into. "Anyways, you're the one who holds this forbidden knowledge! Now spill it!" She pauses, "Literally, if you must."

"For fuck's sake Sherry, why are you like this?!" You yell at her through a genuine laugh. No matter how gross that statement is, it is also really funny. You feel a little better, but the knot in your stomach remains.

She grabs a shirt out of the clumped up pile and folds it with zero care or grace. It might as well be a glorified knot. She puts it down and grabs for another, not caring at all to fold anything well. You help her fold, but actually do it correctly.

"So? Spill it!" She insists after making a few knotted clothes. You sigh, frustrated but unwilling to fight her.

"Yeah, I guess he had something in him. Probably the same slick stuff those synthetic refills are made of that you can get for prosthetics. Not that I could really tell anyway, it felt like any other liquid would in there." You mumble quietly.

"Heheheheh, gross." She giggles.

You throw the warm pair of pajama pants you're holding square in her face for that one.

• • • •

You're sitting on the bench in the laundry room, a pile of Sherry's properly folded clothes off to the side and Sherry herself snoring against your shoulder. She promised to stay with you while you wait for your laundry to finish, but you're not sure how helpful it is for her to snore in your ear and drool on your shoulder. She didn't manage to stay awake for long after she sat down with you, but this was inevitable with how hungover she is. Sometimes it really is best to sleep it off whenever possible, although you worry about her hydration. You'll wake her up if you really need to move, and then you'll get her a sports drink or something when you do.

At this point you've moved your laundry into a dryer. The commercial grade washing machines are insanely fast, but drying can only work so quickly. You might be here for a bit, whether you like it or not. Properly folding all of Sherry's clothes kept you occupied for a little while, but now all you have left to keep you company are your thoughts and the sounds of Sherry's snores.

You wonder to yourself why you're so worried over talking about your past with Revenant. You've been dismissive of it this whole time, but to be fair he has never pressed you on it either. You've told him you were homeless and used to date one of the other women in the shelter, but you didn't tell him that she eventually found a way out of poverty. You had to break up with her so she could move on. You didn't fully explain that your past relationship was so you could always stick together and watch out for each other. You definitely didn't tell him how you ended up homeless in the first place, and certainly not what happened to you after the breakup. In truth, you don't want to talk about it. You don't like being a victim of circumstance, modern societal failures, and a criminal underbelly that intentionally preys on people like you. Everyone who's unfortunate enough to be born into this cybernetic hellscape has a story or two that could curdle blood, and you're no different. Heck, you're sure Revenant has plenty too.

The fact of the matter is, you're alive and able to tell the tales of your past, which is better than the slew of victims, predators, and petty criminals alike that are missing or buried in shallow graves. It almost feels disrespectful to the slew of dead and abandoned individuals to complain since you've survived and gotten somewhere better. There's no way you can deny that you've won the jackpot by getting to work for the Apex Games, let alone getting hired and getting so close to one of the Legends themselves. Who are you to complain? You know that feeling shame for getting out of your situation isn't how you should feel--after all, everyone should have a right to talk about their past and experiences--but you can't shake the feeling of survivor's guilt that ebbs away at you.

You put your arm around Sherry and rub her opposite shoulder, but she doesn't wake up. She's really the reason you're out of the trenches of modern society at all. She secured you this job which gave you everything you could need, rent free. The tips from the Legends have let you save up money to escape when this opportunity falls through. Even moreso, Sherry didn't drop the offer for the job when you were hospitalized; in fact, she doubled down on making sure you got the position. You have no idea how much harder she had to work to get you here while you recovered for months, and you've always been afraid to ask. You almost don't want to know the debt you owe her, since you'd spend your whole life trying to pay her back. Sherry probably wouldn't want you to do that either; she's just so happy to have someone she can treat like a sister again.

The door to the laundry room opens again, snapping you out of you pondering.

"Skinsuit! There you are! I've been looking for you." Revenant swiftly makes his way over to you. He's holding a plastic bag, clearly with something inside. He towers over you, looking down at you and the drooling sloth latched to your side.

"Oh, sorry, I was just doing laundry." You mumble, caught in his bright, LED eyes.

"Skinsuit." He pauses, likely seeing your blank stare. You take a moment to come out of your adoring trance, shaking your head a little to clear your thoughts.

"Sorry, what's wrong?"

"We need to talk." The knot in your stomach falls deeper and yanks your gut down with it. Those are the worst words in the world, and the catastrophic thoughts in your head immediately start to wind up. Before you can even finish processing your thoughts, Revenant has picked Sherry up and off of you, laying her down on the bench. She doesn't even stir, she just snores louder now that she's lying flat. Revenant grabs your wrist and hoists you to your feet. "Come, now." His voice is so foreboding.

"Wait, the laundry isn't done yet." You pull back, resisting his grasp on you. You don't want to confront whatever he's upset about. It could be anything, and you just don't want to hear whatever words will inevitably hurt you.

Revenant doesn't release your wrist, but he grips it harder, forcing you forward and closer to him.

"I'm not asking." His eyes are terrifying points, the most intense look he can give, and he's staring straight at you. "Come. Now."

He doesn't give you time to even step forward before he starts dragging you. You trip over your feet as you try to regain your balance. He takes you out of the room and down the long hallways.

You panic. What the hell did you do? Does he regret last night? Did you accidentally hurt or insult him? What on earth does he want to talk to you about? Is he going to fire you and treat you like a nobody again? How could you possibly still work here if he cuts ties? You'll be traumatized every time you see him. What the hell did you do?

He drags you into his room. You could throw up you're so stressed. He drags you to the bare mattress and flings you down onto it. You try to fall into a sitting position, but fail and roll onto your back. He's standing over you, the intense look still hardened on his visage. He throws the bag to the side, its contents smacking the side table hard.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!" You practically cry, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You hold your hands in front of you instinctively. He's breathing so rapidly, he must be livid. What the hell did you do?

"Skinsuit." His voice isn't angry, his heavy and rapid breathing isn't rage. He's clearly upset, but not enraged at you. He almost sounds sad. "Who tried to kill you?"

You hold your breath, staring at him. Time passes, but you don't know how to answer. Finally, Revenant hunches forward to get closer to you, slipping a claw under your shirt and against your abdomen.

"This isn't a surgical scar. This is a stab wound from a kitchen knife." He sounds calm again, but you're still too locked up to answer him. "I wasn't sure until I saw the other four scars."

His hands glide to another place on your abdomen on the opposite side, then to an area of your lower rib cage, a second under your breast, and one near your clavicle. He brushes each one carefully before pulling you up into a sitting position to meet his eyes.

"What happened?" His face is right in front of you. You didn't realize this is how you were going to have to tell him, let alone that the scars are what he'd latch on to. He sighs, not getting a word out of you yet.

He stands up and sits down next to you on the side of the bed. He's so damn heavy that he creates a pit in the mattress that sucks you towards him. You land against his arm, which wraps around your back and holds you close.

"Don't panic, I just want to know what happened." He states, keeping as monotone as possible. You can sense that he's actually quite upset still, but is likely trying to make sure you don't feel like the target of his ire.

You're still having trouble reigning in all the anxiety, catastrophic thoughts, depressed ideations, and traumatized fear to yourself. If you speak now, nothing is going to make sense and you might start to cry instead. His hold is reassuring, but it's not enough to stop your brain from running on all threads against your will. You feel yourself shaking against his metal frame, trying to come up with an extra bit of bandwidth to talk, but unable to muster any.

You hear him sigh as he notices you struggling. He pulls you further into the gravity sink he's created in the mattress edge and leans into you, intentionally rattling his artificial lung pumps in your ear. He gives you a few minutes to try to gather yourself before he decides to intercede.

He holds your chin and forces you to face him. His LED eyes are bright and much more relaxed than before, and the sight of him calms you down quite a bit. You almost forget what you are even thinking about; only a single, lucid line of thought still runs in your head. Your shuddering stops, and you feel clear enough to speak again. You take a deep breath, and you let yourself speak.

"Right after my ex and I went our separate ways and I met Sherry, I would walk between here and the homeless shelter so I could keep on top of getting this job." You lower your head to look away, so Revenant withdraws his hand from your chin. "I guess some gang was watching me and saw an opening one night. I got grabbed from behind and they put a rag on my face, but when I went to scream I woke up in the ICU instead." You pause. "I don't remember anything, but they told me I had been--"

"You don't have to say it." Revenant interrupts before your voice cracks from the thought. You sigh, grateful for the reprieve.

"I guess they decided to kill me and dump me in a ditch out in the Dust, probably hoping a pack of prowlers would destroy the evidence." Your voice tremolos as you struggle to put together experiences you don't remember. "They nearly succeeded. I almost bled out in the ditch, but a Hammond employee found me on his way home from a late night at the office and got me to a hospital." You feel numb, but your voice betrays you. "They destroyed one of my lungs, managed to slit open my digestive tract in a few places, barely missed both my jugular and subclavian veins at once, and hit me directly in the liver and popped one of my kidneys. I should have died."

You sit there for a moment, gathering your thoughts. Revenant respects the silence and waits for you to continue.

"The Hammond employee who found me donated a bunch of their prototyped synthetic organs to replace mine. One of my lungs, one of my kidneys, and my liver are Hammond prototypes of the ones currently on the market. I also have some of their experimental silicone meshes holding together the digestive tract in the multiple places it was sliced open. I don't think I would have recovered without them."

"How are they holding up?" Revenant asks, carefully pushing his hand against your chest on the side with the artificial lung.

"I haven't noticed any problems, not to say that I know what that would feel like." You place your hand over his, gently touching the Hammond Robotics logo etched into the plate on the back of his hand. It has giant gashes in it, as if he's tried to scratch it off at some point. If this is a new chassis, he must have scratched it out very recently.

"So they used you as a guinea pig for their prototypes?" Revenant growls. "Typical."

"I never thought about it like that. It's not like I could afford synthetics anyway, let alone real ones. It felt like a blessing." You run your fingers over each jagged metal scratch on his metal plates carefully. "I would have died if Hammond hadn't donated them."

"Not to scare you, but be careful with the deals you make with those devils." Revenant's hand pushes harder into your chest.

"I didn't make any deals, I wasn't even asked. They just put them in and sewed me up." You mumble, concerned by his apparent disgust for his own manufacturer.

"Of course they didn't even ask. Silly me." His voice is low and dripping with hatred. You start to pull away from him in fear, but he notices and pulls you back gently. He wraps his arms around you completely and his chin rests on your head. You're not going anywhere at this point. "I'm not angry with you. You're a victim in all this." His voice is softer, but it's a ruse. His lungs are labored with rage and you can feel the tension in his body. You let the silence fall for a moment.

"Revenant, are you okay?" You whimper from under his grasp, unsure of yourself. You feel his fingers turn to points and grip you, but carefully angled not to puncture you.

"I have a lot of work to do." His voice is low and hateful again, his words equally as ominous. His voice jumps back to something softer to address you. "Do you remember anything about the men who chloroformed you? Or when it happened?"

"I'm sorry, it's all really fuzzy." You shake your head a little, in case he can't hear your quiet whisper. He growls, clearly caught up in his thoughts, determined to find a way to narrow down his search. "Does it really matter?" You ask, unsure of what he plans to do.

"Yes, it's important." He huffs for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I'm going to give you the entrails of every punk who violated you as a gift, and I'm going to pry Hammond's claws off of you before it's too late."

"Wait, you don't have to--"

"You used up your pardon, skinsuit. Now, I am the sole judge, jury, and executioner in this case." He sounds so livid, you can't help but shrink under him and hope none of his wrath is aimed in your direction.

The silence falls again, spare for his blood curdling huffs of rage. He slowly calms himself, likely with some kind of plan on what to do.

"Skinsuit, did they kit you when you were at the hospital?"

"Of course, but there's not a universal DNA database of criminals in the Outlands, assuming it was even entered into one at all. As a gang they might have connections. Either way, it didn't amount to anything. Plus, there was a lot of different DNA..." You trail off, shuddering at your own words and trying not to vomit up the pit in your stomach. Revenant grips you tightly in response to your quivering.

"Skinsuit, I need you to listen to me. I will handle this. I don't want you to worry about it anymore." His voice is determined and steadfast.

"I wasn't worried about it before, I just didn't know how I was going to tell you any of this." You manage to get out as you choke back stressful tears. "I was worried you'd be upset that I didn't tell you earlier."

He locks eyes with you from above, but you avert yours. His LEDs are bright enough that you know he's staring at you, trying to gauge your emotional state. Sure, maybe you are upset by the whole ordeal. Maybe it is why you struggle so much with despair. Maybe it is the event that broke you emotionally. But you don't want to dredge it up any more than you have to. It's hard enough telling him this, why does he need to make it into a mission?

"Your heart rate is spiking." You hear him dryly state. You cower deeper into his frame. "Don't be so nervous, like I said, I'll handle it from here."

Something in your head pops and you feel the unmistakable taste and heat of anger overtake you. Mania shows up for a mere few moments, in an attempt to bring righteous indignation to the fray.

"Handle what?! It's not like you can just undo what happened! What's the point? Just pretend like I didn't say anything!" You pull away from him and stand up, but he holds onto your wrist, only allowing you to get arm's length from him. "You can't just assassinate every problem into oblivion! It doesn't work like that!" You're staring down a simulacrum that has single handedly spilt more blood than in all the people you've met in your lifetime, but for this rage induced moment, you don't care. "Heck, if you really want to erase the problem, kill me! Because then nobody has to deal with it! That's what was supposed to happen! But I just had to get lucky at the worst time imaginable!" Your lungs empty out from yelling.

He reels back in shock, releasing your wrist. You have nowhere to go, so you just hover there, staring him down. In this fleeting moment, you have bested the Revenant. You are in charge, but only for a mere moment in time. The anger peters out and sadness overwhelms you in its place. Tears start flowing before you even start to vocalize your pain. The moment has ended. You hurriedly collapse to your knees on the floor and bury your face in your hands, trying to hide yourself as you cry. You hate it when this happens. Immediately after you get angry enough to snap, you regret everything and collapse into a sobbing mess. Every time. You just openly confessed you wish you had died instead. You asked Revenant to kill you instead. On top of it all, now you're crying on the floor like you didn't just say something heinous to him.

You gasp for air between your desperate attempts to suppress your cries, which leak out as sorrowful whimpers instead. You feel his palm on your head, but you can't bear to look up at him. He gives you a moment, possibly hoping you will collect yourself, but he gives up quickly. He kneels down beside you and you hear the clangs of his scarf straps coming loose. You feel his scarf wrap around your face like a hood, absorbing the wayward tears and helping hide your face. He bunches up the extra scarf around your shoulders and loosely ties the buckled straps to hold it to you. He reaches into the hood and holds your hands that are pressed against your face, intentionally fluttering his fingers around yours to wipe away tears. He withdraws, wraps his arms underneath you, and lifts you in his arms. He doesn't even struggle to lift you, remaining completely unwavering.

You feel him carry you out of the room and down the hallway, back towards the laundry room. You pull his scarf completely over your face, trying to calm your cries to be as quiet as possible. Your labored breathing is the only audible indicator of your tears now. You feel his arms push up against the swinging door to the laundry room before feeling the humidity difference wash over you as he enters. You hear the sound of Sherry still snoring on the bench. Revenant carries you towards the back of the room and gently places you on one of the still-warm dryers. You feel him open the front-loading door on the dryer and pull out the load of laundry, doing the same to the second dryer next to you. As the door clicks shut, you hear Sherry stir and wake up, moaning a little in protest.

"Oh, hey, is she okay?" She sleepily addresses Revenant.

"She needs time." A fairly honest dodge, but not really an answer to her question.

"I guess she told you while I was out, huh?" Sherry sighs, yawning afterwards. Revenant stops moving next to you for a moment.

"You knew?" He doesn't sound mad, simply intrigued.

"Of course, I lied and told them I was her biological sister so I could get into the hospital and stay with her." Sherry sounds sad, reflecting on it. "I had no idea she walked alone between here and the shelter. Had I known, I would have called a cab or just done the interviews over the phone..." She trails off, regaining her composure. "After that, I fudged everything to get her this job so she could escape that life."

"Do you remember any details of that night?" Revenant asks with piqued intrigue.

"Of course, I couldn't forget even if I wanted to." You rarely hear Sherry sound so deep in self-shame. You wish she would accept that it wasn't her fault, but you also know that's easier said than done.

"I'll speak to you about it later, then." You jump a little as his hand caresses your arm. You're too withdrawn in his scarf to see anything, so you have no warning when he touches you. Your startled wince doesn't seem to bother him, as he locks his arm around yours, allowing him to continue working with his hands. He must be folding some of the laundry, or at least trying. You can't imagine he's well-versed in the practice.

"You're going to try to find those guys?" Some hope returns to Sherry's voice.

"I will." He doesn't hesitate and he has no doubts. As an assassin he must have some sleuthing skills. He's more than proven himself to be clever, at the least. You still don't want him to bother, though. It doesn't fix what happened, but maybe it could save someone else, at the least.

"Hey! What the hell?" You hear Revenant shout as he withdraws his arm from you and staggers backwards. You pull your face out of the scarf to see Sherry hugging a very confused Revenant.

"Eviscerate them and hang them by their fucking entrails." Sherry mumbles before letting go, and turning to you. "I hope you don't mind, he earned it." She smiles through her exhausted expression, giving you a quick hug too. She pulls away and shuffles to her folded stack of laundry, picking it up and making her way out of the room. Revenant watches her exit with concentrated attention before turning to you.

"Never thought I'd have a second idiot asking me for a favor." He huffs, stepping back over to you. He reaches into the scarf and holds your cheek for a moment, locking eyes with you. "No worries though, you're my first and favorite idiot." His intense determination has melted back down to a teasing vitriol. You let your head tilt into his palm approvingly, letting some wayward tears drip onto him.

He pulls his hand back slowly, intentionally tugging the scarf back to cover your face so you can't see. You're startled when you feel a pile of warm, clean laundry land in your lap.

"Hold this." You hear him instruct as you feel him pick you back up. You wrap your arms around the pile of sheets, clothes, and towels, doing your best to prevent any from falling out of your grip. He carries you, buried in a pile of warm laundry, all the way back to the room before lightly dropping you onto the bare mattress. You let the laundry bury you, enjoying the warmth.

"Why did I even try to fold anything...?" You hear Revenant mumble as he reaches in and pulls you upright, undoing his scarf from you. You let him pull it off of you, but don't bother to watch him put it back on himself. You prefer to bury yourself back in the warm pile of clothing, messing them up further. You hear his buckles lock down on his chassis as he walks away. "I have some leads to follow up on, stay there until I find you a babysitter." The door slams before you can sit up and ask him what he means. He's already gone. He can disappear as quickly as he can appear, climbing walls and collapsing himself into vents and nooks. Even though he used the door this time, it never ceases to scare you a little.

You wish he would just stay around and not leave. Considering how hard it was to even explain what exactly happened to you when you were attacked, you had hoped he would realize being left alone is the worst possible thing. Although, maybe he does realize this, and is getting Sherry to stay with you. Still, you'd rather it be him. It feels like a cop out for him to just leave you with her, but maybe he's also dealing with some emotions too. Unfortunately, you're worried he thinks he can somehow undo everything that happened to you with a bloodbath of vengeance.

You sigh, getting up and looking at the disheveled pile of laundry. You begin to toss your wads of clothing into your duffel bag. No point in folding any of it, it's not like you own anything nice. As you pick through, some appear to be partially folded but his claws had poked some holes in them. Well, at least it's all cheap and replaceable. You toss them into the bag anyway, right now you don't have time to get new ones. You fold the towels and place them in the bathroom, nicely folded and ready to be used again. You take the one odd rag to the kitchenette, finding the drawer full of its siblings and placing it nicely.

Finally, you make the bed. It's an annoying and cumbersome process when you're working alone--the beds here are so big you have to do laps around it to get all the sheets and blanket right. However, you refuse to cut corners, and get it done pretty quickly. The majority of your past few years here have been focused on housekeeping, so you consider yourself quite adept and efficient at it. After throwing on the pillowcases and making a small mound of plush pillows to jump on later, you consider it done.

With nothing left to do, you decide to jump on the pillow mound early, burying yourself in it.

Almost as soon as you get comfortable, the door swings back open.

"Skinsuit! Meet your friend for the day!" Revenant sounds oddly sadistic, but why?

You turn around to meet eyes with a single, red, optical bulb.

"Hello, new friend! I'm Pathfinder, and I am a MRVN!" He waves at you as if you're not a mere few yards away. You actually already know Pathfinder, but he tends to forget who you are regularly. Maybe it's from getting damaged in the Apex Games? Or perhaps it's since he's only ever met you in passing before. After all, there's never been a good reason for him to remember you until now. "Very nice to meet you, Skinsuit!"

Revenant fights back a chortle as Pathfinder gets your name so morbidly wrong. You have no reason to correct him, though, after all you never had parents to give you a real name. You've been trying on different names for decades. 'Skinsuit' just seems to fit this stage of your life, weirdly enough.

"After our misunderstanding yesterday, I decided to make it up to him by introducing you two." Revenant explains to you, his hands gesturing sarcastically. Misunderstanding is one way to put it. "He's going to make sure you don't hurt, maim, kill, or otherwise damage yourself while I'm gone."

"Yes! I don't let friends do any of those things!" Pathfinder pipes up excitedly, probably not even realizing the subtext of what Revenant is implying.

Revenant must be holding on to your self-destructive rant from earlier. That explains why he's keeping some distance. You wish you could take it back, but words don't work like that. You still can't ignore it and let it stand, though.

"Rev, I'm sorry." You blurt out, not caring what Pathfinder might think. Revenant locks eyes with you for a moment, looking slightly less on-edge than before, but still quite tense. His pause doesn't last long, as his manipulative performance must go on for Pathfinder.

"There's nothing to apologize for. " He shrugs with heavy exaggeration, even though he clearly knows what you're referring to. "Just don't be a liability." He turns to Pathfinder, who has been listening intently. "Try to keep her safe, you wouldn't want to get me in trouble if she gets hurt, would you?"

"Absolutely not, brother!" He salutes, seemingly aloof to the tension in the air.

With that, Revenant disappears behind the closing door and is gone again.

Cool, more metal friends you didn't ask for. Well, the first one went well, maybe this won't be so bad.

"You said the right thing." Pathfinder suddenly sounds more serious, even if it still has an unmistakable twinge of optimism. "He seemed upset. I think you made him feel better."

"Wait, you saw through that?" You're dumbfounded, what is with all the perceptive robots in this place?

"He always acts like that for me, but I don't mind. He only does it for me, so we must be like brothers!" Okay, maybe he's not working with a perfectly clear perspective, but still. "And he wouldn't try to get me to watch you if he didn't value you, so I will do this as a favor to him." The screen on his chest emotes a heart-eyed smiling face. "He was very upset when he thought I had figured out his secret, so you must be a very good friend to be a secret friend!"

"Wait, you saw me yesterday?" Is this MRVN a genius and pretending to be unassuming, or somehow a perfectly naïve clairvoyant? He's able to hide his power of perception from Revenant, so he can't be stupid.

"Of course! I have sensors that pick up on heat and vital signs. But you were clearly hiding, so I did not want to ruin your fun."

Fun? Oh, he's so perfectly naïve, or you're falling for a perfectly executed feign. Whichever it is, Pathfinder is a little scary in the exact opposite manner that Revenant is. Revenant may be a homicidal simulacrum with deeply human roots, but his intentions are fairly obvious and any malice he has is clear cut and concise. Pathfinder is much more confusing, clearly more intelligent than he lets on, but so perfectly optimistic that he comes off as non-threatening. Despite that impression, you've seen Pathfinder take down some of the scariest Legends over the years, often with a near-condescending air of playful joy while doing so. When Revenant kills, the bloodlust is sensible, but playfulness? It's somehow scarier.

"Are you okay, friend? You seem nervous. Did I say something bad?" His emote shows a distressed face.

"Sorry, I just get caught up in thought sometimes. What did you want to do for fun?" You figure he won't hurt you, even if you can't completely figure him out.

"Well, what do you and Revenant usually do for fun?" His emote brightens into a smile again as you grimace internally. He's either wholly unaware or viscously teasing you.

"How about we do something else? Let's..." You think, what would be nice to do? You're a bit hard pressed to come up with anything fun.

"We could bring flowers to people in the infirmary!" He pipes up happily. It's not a bad idea, really.

"Sure! I actually wanted to visit the second place Legends, if that's okay. Fuse is so nice and so is Bloodhound. Caustic... probably won't mind." You've never really met Caustic, but you know he has a reputation for being grumpy.

• • • •

You walk out into the hidden atrium behind Pathfinder's room. You knew this was here, but nobody ever comes out here to your knowledge. The doors lock if you're not careful to keep them open, so the risk of being locked outside tends to lead most to avoid the area entirely, even though it connects two wings more efficiently than the hallways.

It's full of flowers of all types, sizes, and colors. The arrangement is chaotic and seemingly random, but the lusciousness of the plants more than makes up for it. The ground flowers are blooming and have various bee species hovering around, seemingly at peace with one another. There are a few small trees reaching around eight or nine feet high and giving a little shade. One has flowers, another has berries, and yet another has some kind of unripe fruit. It's truly breathtaking, and completely undisturbed after years of being left alone by the other Legends.

"You did all this?" You ask aloud, completely in awe of the secret oasis.

"Yes! Do you like it? We can pick some flowers from here!" Pathfinder seems especially happy to be sharing this with someone.

"It's beautiful." You mutter, still captivated by how mythical this little cut of land feels.

"Thank you! I have been meaning to show Revenant, but he will never chase me this far." Pathfinder shuffles over to an area and pulls up Revenant's abandoned bovine skull from the last match with a giant chipped gash in the forehead. He's filled in the bottom and red rose buds have been replanted in the eye holes. A large snail is making its way around the gash with its mossy shell, making for an artistic arrangement. "I am really proud of this one. I felt bad his new suit was destroyed, so I wanted to keep a part of it for him. Once the roses grow, it will look really nice!"

You're impressed. Revenant seems to have some kind of distaste for Pathfinder, and you're beginning to understand why. Pathfinder is scary. He's terrifyingly kind. If your guard isn't up at all times, he will reach a deep part of you and break down your defenses in an instant. When the entirety of the Outlands treats people as disposable assets and teaches everyone to trust as few people as possible, this MRVN will treat anyone like they truly matter, like they are truly cared for, and like they are capable of great things. It's dangerous to believe those things in this universe. That's how you get victimized, abandoned, and let down. Yet, this MRVN manages to hold on to these beliefs about himself and others, and he isn't broken, dead, or an abandoned shell.

Revenant, like you, can't adhere to those beliefs. The universe has spoken, and it says otherwise. Yet, it feels nice to indulge in the feeling of mattering, even if only for a few hours. Is that why he chose Pathfinder? Of course, Pathfinder is the living opposite of a suicidal ideation, after all. Maybe Revenant knew that.

"Stupid, clever jerk." You mumble out loud.

"Me?" Pathfinder has a confused emote as he points to himself.

"Oh, sorry, no, I meant someone else." You pause, switching subjects. "It's really nice of you to reuse his favorite chassis like this. I think it's really pretty, even if he never sees it."

"Thank you, friend!" His happy emote is back, and he waves you over to another area. "Have you seen this chassis? It's my favorite!"

You walk over and follow him to see a rounded red, purple, and white chestplate that has been cracked and shattered, but loosely put back together. It has the word "Thunder" and the number "81" written on it, as well as a unique mask attached to it. This mask doesn't look like any skull you've seen before, human or otherwise, but still has a bony texture. It appears to have hooks near the chin, perhaps where it was attached to the exoskeleton, as well as unusual leather bags under the eyes. It looks perpetually tired and angry, but you definitely can't say you've seen him wear this before. The chestplate is closed over an old wood stump and beautiful mushrooms have sprung to life in the darkness and reached beyond the chassis to meet the light. His mask has a particularly colorful fungus growing on it, happily latching onto the porous material more easily than the chestplate. It's gorgeous, but you wish you could see this chassis on him too.

"No, I've never seen this one before... I haven't seen him wear it in the games either. What is it?" You ask, curious why he would have such an odd chassis in his repertoire.

"He uses it when we spar! I don't think he uses it much otherwise."

"You two spar?" You're surprised. Maybe Revenant also finds excuses to dabble in the feeling of mattering sometimes.

"Yes! Not too often, I think he gets frustrated that I am an excellent boxer. I have tried to let him win, but he doesn't like that." Your eyes widen. Pathfinder can outclass Revenant in a sparring match? This guy really is scary. "You should come sometime!"

You look back at the busted chassis. Was Revenant knocked out of this one with a blow from Pathfinder? You knew all MRVN are particularly sturdy and powerful, but you never really felt it until now. You're a helpless ragdoll full of easily exploitable and fatal flaws to Revenant, but you never even considered that perspective when around Pathfinder. Now you do.

"You can really beat Revenant?" You mumble aloud, not intending it as a real question.

"When we only use our fists, yes! I don't think I could beat him if he was allowed to use his stabbing hands. He is getting better though!" He doesn't acknowledge your apparent fear, simply giving a chipper answer. "Whiplash to the neck is a weak point in his design. He is learning that he can't let me land an uppercut. You should come watch sometime! I bet he would fight harder with you there!"

The thought of Pathfinder knocking out Revenant with an uppercut is unbelievable to you. You almost want to know if it's really possible.

"I will, if you're both okay with it." You look up at Pathfinder, who immediately makes a happy clapping motion.

"Yes! I look forward to it!"

"Do you have any more insider information on his other suits?" You ask, curious how many he has seen.

"He's told me about some, but I haven't seen them yet. Only some special colored versions of his normal one." He looks upwards as if to think, the emote on his screen changing to match. You've seen some of the other colors in past games, but never in person. You hope he has a lot of different suits, especially since they tend to alter his personality a little. You wonder what his sparring suit does to him.

"We are here to visit Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic!" Pathfinder chirps, flashing his ID badge. You place yours on the counter as well, as the receptionist scans them both. You know the receptionist, Carol's been here a long time, and she's used to seeing volunteers come through to visit the Legends.

"Let's pick some flowers for the others, then maybe we can talk some more." You want to make sure you get to see the second place team, knowing the extent of their injuries is well beyond simple gunshots wounds. Revenant had run Caustic and Fuse through completely, and probably broke many of Bloodhound's bones. You're a little worried for all of them.

• • • •

You and Pathfinder approach the receptionist in the infirmary wing, holding three unique bunches of flowers. You couldn't find vases, so they're propped up in glass soda bottles filled with water. It may be a cheap alternative to a proper vase, but the flower quality makes up for it.

She starts to laugh after scanning your badge.

"Little Skinsuit? Is that what you're going by now?" She prods. "Also, I didn't know Revenant liked anyone enough to have a direct hire. I guess all that dedication to the grump-machine paid off, huh? Congrats!" She's very nice, and doesn't pry further than that.

"I'm not going to tell Revenant what not to call me, that would be asking for trouble. But thank you! It only took four seasons and figuring out his favorite liquor." You take your ID back.

"Ha! Leave it to you to make your way up in the world through the craziest means possible. Revenant still scares the heck out of me. Today was the first time I've ever seen him visit anyone, though. Maybe he's softening up." She spins a little in her chair thinking about it. "Anyway, tell Sherry I said 'hi' when you see her next!"

"Will do! Thanks Carol!" You chime back, walking past the desk with your arms full of bouquets, Pathfinder following behind. Why would Revenant have come by here earlier? That's very odd.

As you turn the corner, you see the names of the currently admitted Legends on each of the doorways. There are not many left, it seems like most were discharged this afternoon. Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic are all still here though.

Caustic's room is the closest, but you'd rather wait to deal with him last. You haven't met him, and those who have aren't usually treated well apparently. He almost has as bad of a reputation as Revenant, but Sherry has always been able to interact with him reasonably. She told you it had something to do with being close to Wattson, but that doesn't make much sense to you.

"Let's see Fuse first." You say, carefully making your way to Fuse's door. You knock lightly before you hear his booming voice welcome you.

"Door's unlocked, mate!" He barely sounds injured. As you open the door, you see Fuse grinning widely and sitting upright in bed. He's in a hospital gown, chest exposed to reveal a massive but sewed up and sealed wound. "Oy, you brought me flowers! How kind of ya." He's absolutely beaming for someone with a massive hole in his chest.

"Sorry we came so late in the afternoon, I just wanted to visit and make sure you were okay." You fumble over your words, not sure how else to admit you were worried about him and the others. Let alone that it's partially an apology for Revenant absolutely skewering him.

"Not a problem, I see you brought a different metal fellow with ya t'day." He motions to a table beside him, where you place the flowers.

"Good to see you again Fuse, I am glad to see you are recovering well." Pathfinder chirps, forever positive.

"So, sheila, how is the angry feller?" Right, he knows about you and Revenant.

"He's, uh, under some stress, but nothing he can't handle, I'm sure." You're not sure how else to answer. Saying he's fine is too obvious of a lie, but you don't want to be too specific either.

"Really? Who knew? The red rage actually has problems like the rest of us." He chuckles. Normally you wouldn't think much of his statement, but Fuse is the type to try to get anyone to warm up to him, Revenant being no exception. Perhaps you've said too much.

"Yes! Which is why I'm taking care of his secret friend for him! She's not allowed to be a liability!" Pathfinder gently pats your shoulder. Why did he have to say that? Fuse catches sight of your dejected look and laughs harder, gripping his chest to steady the pain. Pathfinder takes his laughter as some kind of endorsement, while you hang your head in embarrassment. Fuse catches his breath finally.

"No worries sheila, I won't tell a soul. You may have to keep that a bit more under wraps though, Pathy." Fuse says through labored breaths. That laugh must have hurt. Pathfinder cocks his head in confusion. "I think the point of having a 'secret friend' is to keep them a secret, not to tell everyone!"

"Oh no! I'm sorry!" Pathfinder realizes his mistake, a blue sad face appearing on his screen.

"It's okay, Pathfinder, Fuse actually already knew." You pat him on the arm in reassurance.

"Yeah, no worries mate. Just be a little more careful." His smile erases any embarrassment you feel. "Well, I'll let ya make your other rounds, I'm gonna turn in for the night." Fuse waves goodbye to you both as you excuse yourselves.

You make your way across the hall to the room labelled for Bloodhound. You lightly knock, and a nurse opens the door carefully for you. You slip in quietly and see Bloodhound lying on their back, their head facing your direction. You see their eyes dart in your direction, no longer buried under their usual goggles. Their head is well-wrapped in gauze, and their breathing mask is replaced with a hospital oxygen mask. You can finally see their eyes, which are filled with a softness you don't usually see.

Artur is on a large perch in the corner of the room, surprisingly. Bloodhound likely had to fight to get Artur into the infirmary at some point, since the perch almost looks to be a permanent installment now. Artur coos, watching the room carefully.

"Ah, the apprentice and Pathfinder." They address you both, but don't sit up. They likely aren't able to in this state.

You look to the nurse and offer her the flowers, not sure if you can approach Bloodhound at all. She takes the vase and puts it on a table a short ways from them, but well within their eyesight. Bloodhound seems enamored by the flowers, but also confused by their presence for a few moments.

"Ah, right, flowers are a common gift to the injured." They say to themself before turning to you both. "Your well wishes are accepted graciously. May the Allfather bless you in return."

You bow instinctively, not wanting to speak too loudly in the quiet room. Pathfinder notices and attempts to do the same, but starts to lose his balance and barely recovers. Once you right yourself, you break the silence for a mere moment.

"Get well soon, Bloodhound. Please don't..." You trail off, not sure where you were going. Die? Unlikely. Hurt? They're already hurt. Hate Revenant? They're not the type. "... don't be a stranger." You recover a little, but you're sure you're coming off awkwardly.

Bloodhound smiles with their eyes, and you feel much better, quietly slipping back out the door. Pathfinder follows, waiting for the door to close before speaking.

"I kept the secret!" He pumps his fists a little. You chuckle.

"By not talking at all. I guess it works." You pat him on the arm again. "One left, but I don't know anything about Caustic. I hope he's not as bad as they say."

Pathfinder takes the last bouquet from you and leads the way this time, apparently willing to handle the interaction himself. He knocks on the door and opens it, revealing a growling Caustic on the other side, sitting upright in bed and writing in a notebook. His usual mask is switched for an oxygen mask, and he's in a hospital garb that is far too large for him.

"Greetings, doctor! I brought you flowers!" Pathfinder chirps happily, ignoring Caustic's scowl.

"I don't want flowers. I already had to answer the simulacrum's idiotic questions, why are you bothering me now?" Caustic asks angrily, averting his attention back to his notebook.

"I intentionally got you chamomile flowers, they're Wattson's favorite for tea!" Pathfinder chirps, holding the white and yellow-centered flowers up. Caustic suddenly looks up from his notebook with a softer expression, before sighing and relenting.

"Fine, put them down on the table." His voice and expression have softened, but you're not sure why. Pathfinder must know something you don't.

As Pathfinder moves to put the flowers on his table, you lose your body to hide behind. Caustic notices you, and suddenly smiles a little wickedly.

"Ah, the simulacrum's personal lapdog reveals herself." He sneers. How did he know about you? Did Revenant say something? "You have quite the science project at your beck and call. How did a little thing like you manage that?"

You're not sure how to answer, and you know your discomfort is visible on your face. Pathfinder seems to notice as well.

"You seem to be a kindred spirit, flirting with death. Makes you feel more alive, doesn't it?" He coughs a little, interrupting his train of thought. His voice returns in a much more serious tone. "I'm afraid I can't do anything more for either of you, but I'll keep you in mind if I need to get under the simulacrum's skin."

Pathfinder doesn't speak, but starts walking towards the door, gently herding you in that direction. You leave, unsure of what else to say after that. The door gently closes behind you both.

"Are you okay, friend?" Pathfinder asks.

Now late in the evening, you finally make it back to Revenant's room, bidding Pathfinder goodbye before opening the door. You're holding a single flower you picked out for Revenant, despite Pathfinder's insistence that Revenant doesn't like or accept flowers. He's tested it thoroughly, or so he claims. You're certain this one is different, though. You picked this one for him, and you picked it for a reason. As you slip through the door, Revenant stands up from the computer desk to meet you.

"Yeah, just disturbed, I guess. Let's go, it's getting late. Let me grab dinner and let's go back to your garden." You answer, not sure what Caustic meant. You'd rather spend the rest of the evening chatting about Revenant's different chassis with Pathfinder than dwelling on Caustic's cryptic words.

• • • •

"You must have had fun. You've been gone all day." He notices the flower. "Pathfinder managed to pawn one of his flowers off on you?" He scoffs, rolling his optics.

"Actually, I picked this one for you." You correct him, unsurprised by his initial rejection. He seems to tense at the realization it's a gift from you, not Pathfinder, and that he has already judged it so openly. "It's a datura flower, I thought it was fitting."

"Datura? Like the drug?" He asks, trying to ignore his previous judgement on the flower.

"Yeah, it's called the Devil's Trumpet. It's poisonous if ingested, and causes psychedelic delusions. It's legendary for giving some of the most hellish waking nightmares. Isn't that something you've said about yourself? A nightmare flower for the nightmare Apex Predator!" You finish your short speech, and he carefully takes the flower from you, staring silently at its alluring but deceptive beauty for a few moments in silence.

"Thank you." He finally says, carefully placing the makeshift vase and flower down on the computer desk. "I wanted to talk to you about something while we're at it."

"Is this about what I said earlier? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I wasn't thinking, and--"

"You wanted to die. It's okay. I understand that feeling." He takes your hand and sits you down on the bed as he takes the office chair opposite to you. "I don't want you to die, even though I am certain I will live to see the day anyway." He pauses, gathering the words he wants to say. "If you really find you cannot handle living any longer, I want you to die painlessly in my arms."

You sit there, unable to fully process what he means, or perhaps you're refusing to process it. It's hard to swallow, if your suspicion is right. He lets the pause hang before finally specifying.

"If you truly must die, I want to be the one to take your life." His head hangs, and he refuses to make further eye contact. "It will be painless, you won't be alone, and I can hold you one last time." His pain is apparent.

As soon as the words register in your head, you throw yourself to the floor and kneel under his hunched over body, trying to meet his gaze. He is unmistakably despaired, so you stand into him, hugging him as you do.

"I'm so sorry Revenant, I promise it won't come to that." You're pleading with him to trust you, but you're not sure how to convince him. "I love you, I just want to spend as much time with you as I can. I won't let it come to that."

You're pretty sure you sound desperate, but you're not sure how he'll interpret that. You are desperate to get him back from wherever his mind is. He stays limp in your arms for a few moments--long enough to concern you. His optics are still on, so he's not rebooting. He's just pondering, and somehow that's more worrying than anything.

Finally, Revenant hugs you back, standing up and lifting you off the ground. He brings you to the bed, carefully lying down in it and dragging you into an enveloping hold. He holds you tightly, but with an intensity you haven't felt before. He doesn't speak, just holds you, refusing to let go.

You lay there, unable to move and unwilling to abandon him for what feels like hours, until your consciousness starts to fade. You drift off quickly, unable to deny your exhaustion any further.

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shadowgeist-stars · 3 years

Text

Ren x Gakushu: Nightmares

Ren was standing in the Chairman's office, watching the man pace around him, Araki, Seo, and Koyama with practiced, measured steps. His words were almost entirely unintelligible, but his voice was just like always. The same eerie, low tenor that made his skin try to crawl off his body, like he suddenly had some kind of flesh-eating disease.

Suddenly the monster struck. A huge fleshy mass with eyes so big that they overlapped one another on its face. A mouth so wide and sharply fanged that it could swallow anyone whole and shred them apart in its jaws anyway. Before he knew it, there was an agonizing sting at the back of his head and the better part of his back. Ren was somehow thrown against the wall, pain tearing against his sternum and surrounding ligaments making it nearly impossible to breathe. The others were no different, as if they were flung just as woefully unprepared into the same MMA fight that he was in.

Then he realized all of their bodies hadn't even moved.

For all intents and purposes, their minds had been violently punted from each of their bodies, leaving them as empty shells that did nothing but chant an insatiable desire to kill E-Class. If Ren didn't have trouble breathing before, he was all but suffocating now. It only got worse when Gakushu reentered the room, only to call out to Ren and the others in horror. The mix of anger, disgust, and outright fear with which he stared at his father and his pet beast nearly wrenched his racing heart clear out of his chest.

“Gakushu, please… I'm right here…”

He forced his ghostly form to stand up. Dizziness spun his vision every which way. His shaking feet didn't feel anything close to steady as he tried to stumble toward his friend. The monster over the principal's shoulder only pounced again, painfully crushing his throat in its clawed grip as he could only face that menacing, unnatural grin. Darkness was beginning to dot his vision as it blurred with tears. He reached helplessly for his best friend with whatever vanishing strength he had left, as it all went cold and dark and --

Ren's eyes shot open with a gasp, heart pounding and breathing as if he'd just endured one of Gakushu's soccer games. He lay frozen and tense in his bed, clutching his bed covers and staring at nothing but his own bedroom floor as he slowly willed himself to calm down.

After he finally deemed himself calmed from the nightmare, (and telling himself that No, panic-brain, my blazer that I keep hung on my door is not a monster that's here to kill me) he sat up in his bed and checked the time on his alarm clock.

Only a few minutes after 3 o’clock, in the morning.

Ren grimaced to himself, running a hand through his stupid bedhead. Either Seo or Koyama would probably laugh about some kind of joke related to the time that he’s almost certain he’d rather not hear. However, he just thought it was too darn early to be up, even with something like a very graphic memory/nightmare to blame.

The principal monster from his nightmare flashed behind his eyes, in its own twisted "speak of the devil." What better way of being told by one's own brain that going back to sleep at that moment was not an option?

…Maybe a cup of tea or something warm (and uncaffeinated) would settle him down enough to help.

With a sigh, he got out of bed, pulled on a shirt, and headed to the kitchen.

He knew the house well enough that he didn't have to turn on the lights. He knew every place where the floors creaked, exactly where to stick to the walls and where to simply keep a light foot. The tiny nightlights in the halls kept it just visible enough that one didn't have to stumble around in complete darkness.

Many years ago, traversing his house at night was a game to Ren. One where his eyes sported beams of light to help him see. A game in which the dark wasn’t a monster to fear, but his playmate.

When he reached the kitchen, he breathed a soft sigh of relief. He grabbed a mug from the dish cabinet, but before he could do anything else, he noticed a light.

Light that was coming from the living room TV, partly shadowed by a figure on the couch.

Ren had a feeling he knew who that was. Guess I’m not the only one having a rough night.

With that in mind, he grabbed a second mug before pulling the jar of dried chamomile from the back of a different cabinet, fixing some tea with it.

The person on the couch didn’t respond to any noise he made, which meant one of two things: he was either quite aware of his presence and simply waiting for Ren to reveal himself, or he was out of it to the point of somehow not noticing the brunette was even there.

With someone like Gakushu Asano, there was no in-between with those two possibilities.

The moment the tea was ready, Ren poured it into the two mugs, a small voice in the back of his mind reminding him to put some sugar in Gakushu’s mug. He likes his tea sweetened a little. It’ll help him calm down more easily if he’s tense or had a nightmare, and right now he's possibly both.

He glanced at whatever he was watching on TV, which was turned down so low he couldn’t quite hear it. A documentary: his go-to for calming down from a bad dream. Crime or historic ones usually mean something relatively tame. But this one’s a nature documentary; he only goes to those things when it’s really bad.

The taller boy took a deep breath before heading over, humming a familiar tune and making sure to seek out the one floorboard he knew would creak. A word of advice from a friend, so as to not scare him once in his line of sight.

The redhead made an almost unnoticeable jolt before bright purple eyes met his. (So he really was out of it to a point he didn't know I was there, or at least hyperfixating on the TV.) He was wrapped in a throw blanket and had his legs laid across the length of the couch; he was probably planning on sleeping there if he was able to calm down enough.

“Ren… How long have you been up?” he asked, shifting around to sit properly on the sofa.

He chuckled, setting down the mugs on the coffee table until he was sitting down beside his boyfriend. “Obviously not as long as you.” His smile became a frown when he got no snarky response. “Nightmares keeping you up, too, huh?”

The shorter boy only nodded once, taking his mug when it was offered. “I hoped to be able to sleep again, after getting my mind off of it… And I didn’t expect to be discovered."

Ren hummed, sipping his own beverage. "…It was the brainwashing incident on my end… Araki saying it felt like an out-of-body experience was pretty accurate."

The ginger didn't seem too surprised. "…It was partially that exact incident for myself… and also the immediate aftermath of the pole-toppling match. I still find it hard to forget how badly Kevin and the other exchange students were injured, because of him… it was so severe that they all had to return to their home countries, once they'd recovered enough to do so."

The others didn’t hear much of that when it happened beyond when the paramedics showed up at the school. At the time, they all knew better than to ask while the wound was still fresh. Then again, it wasn’t like he would’ve been coherent enough to elaborate on the situation anyway, given how he fell asleep on the ride home.

"Least they don't have to worry about him hurting them again now…" he replied finally, "or anyone, to be honest. Especially not you." He pulled the strawberry blond boy into his side. "I think you remember well enough… how worried I was when he hit you in front of everybody."

The shorter boy’s exhale reverberated with exhaustion as his head drooped on his lover’s shoulder, followed by the sound of him emptying his mug. “Not as much as I wish I did… but at the same time more than I care to admit. It’s exhausting just thinking about it.”

The brunette smiled sadly at the sheer amount of fatigue in his tone, giving his shoulder a squeeze before finishing his own drink. "All the same, we can say that we're safe from him, and that in itself means a lot… By the way, I would've been alright with you coming over to my room after you woke up from your nightmare."

That only earned him a sleepy, yet sour look. "Why would I do that? I'm not a toddler, Ren."

The brunette snickered, using a thumb and index finger to get the other to face him. "Maybe not, but it's not childish to be afraid or need someone else, even for just a little company. Haven't you felt any better since I came out here?"

Gakushu tried to avert his face. "I suppose you could say that…"

Begrudging victory; I'll take it.

He smiled as he leaned in to kiss the shorter boy. He slipped his tongue in easily, tasting the chamomile's aftermath and practically feeling the remnants of Gakushu's tension and traces of his own nightmare disappear into the documentary's white noise. The ginger all but melted into his arms, the long and lazy kiss bearing down on his eyelids with sleep in a wave of honeyed warmth. Pulling away showed a pair of hazy purple eyes struggling to open again, on an adorable, blushing face.

“I love you, Gakushu; sweet dreams.”

The shorter boy gave a slow, cat-like blink, snuggling further against the taller boy. “Hmm… love you too… Ren…”

Ren chuckled at his slurred speech as he took Gakushu's empty mug from his hands, placing it and his own mug on the coffee table. Afterwards he turned off the TV, pulling Gakushu along as he shifted them around, until they were now both laying sideways on the couch, with a red-haired head on his chest. He managed to resituate the throw blanket over them both, draping long arms over his beloved; one settling across his waist, the other scratching his scalp in rhythmic circles.

He leaned into the crevice between the couch cushion and backrest with a contented sigh. With the weight and warmth of his boyfriend in his arms and the steady whispering breeze of breath in his ears and over his chest, the image of the former principal and the big-eyed monster was nothing more than a fading memory. They were both safe here, in this homey little bubble. Pressing a final kiss to his boyfriend's crown, he laid his own head down and closed his eyes, letting sleep carry him away on a far more welcoming cloud.

It wasn’t the first time they had such nightmares, and it may well be far from the last, but for now, they could sleep without fear, and that was enough.

#assassination classroom #gakushu asano #ren sakakibara #ren x gakushu #rengaku #asaren #asano gakushu #sakakibara ren #ansatsu kyoushitsu #i like rarepairs okay?

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lilac-den · 3 years

Note

How would the ROs (Dark!AU) react to a seriously injured MC? Are they gonna take care of them or...just...watch? Also what happens if the MC dies because of it? Will they realize their true affections for the MC? Or maybe nah lmaooo

The Dark!AU here is just so interesting I can't help myself ahahaha

TW: Mention of death, necrophilia, pissing, rape and gore.

Jupiter: They would get the best medical care for their 'pet' and demand the culprit that caused this. In the Dark!AU, their word is the law and there really aren't things called 'heroes' or 'villains'. It's legit Jupiter ruling an empire of their own with a corrupted hand and a foundation that can never be toppled or contested. As such, you can expect the culprit to be hunted down and brought to Jupiter for the sake of their lives.

Public execution shall be the way to go, to warn anyone else who is foolish enough to repeat what this cretin did.

If the MC dies, Jupiter will send the empire into a rotten hell as we know it, with the culprit kept alive but crucified in public with animals nipping and pecking over the bare body.

Mercury: Laying injuries on MC is equivalent to forfeiting your own life - Mercury is, thankfully, a doctor despite their sadistic methods and tended to the MC carefully and addictively devoted. That being said, the moment MC wakes up, Mercury will be there, giggling with blood on their white coat and gloves while showing off the decapitated head of the culprit, blood and entrails dripping from the fleshy end of a jagged, sliced neck. "Surprise, my pretty!"

If MC died, this would send Mercury into a state of denial before they cry out and go onto a destructive rampage. When they calm down enough to stop their rampage, they'll weep and curse before finding a way to revive MC back to life, going from experimentations with live subjects to creating abominations.

Bacchus: They're the kind to just watch, but only because they were never taught how to tend to injuries or what injuries mean. They're an empty husk, so it would require the MC having taught them about the basic first aid and stuff to have them react to a situation where the MC is seriously injured.

They won't even notice MC being dead - they would assume the MC is sleeping. Again, Dark!AU is dark and Bacchus won't even know how wrong necrophilia is.

If the MC did tell them about mortality and the fragility of life, Bacchus would probably look into medical stuff, but only because it seems like the kind of stuff MC needs. They won't apply first aid themselves though, seeing as they won't even know they're hurt.

Mars: They'll desensitize the pain for MC, demanding to know who the fuck tried to put a mark. Once MC gives the name and/or description, Mars prepares to get MC under medical care (may or may not have threatened a doctor or two to get you patched up) before going off to hunt the idiot that did this. By the time MC wakes up, there'll be Mars chilling in the corner with a glare, displeased at having to see wounds that were not made by them. Surely MC will be okay with having Mars apply them once they're healed...

And in the meantime, the culprit's body is piked outside the building, body parts dripping with blood and flesh as a gore-themed fence. They even kept the eyeballs as decoration, putting them on a plaque above the door just to creep people out.

If MC dies, Mars would be going on a war path, taking the culprit, any living family members related to said culprit, and then lining them up to be gunned down and buried into a pit full of corpse-eating bugs until only the culprit's immediate family are left. For them, their punishment will be to have their wrists tied up and being forced to stand up, letting anyone pelt them with rotten tomatoes, steal from them or even piss and raped them before whipping them by the number of times they have cried, shouted or screamed. Mars will just watch, still believing that the punishment wasn't enough.

???: They'll be pretty sweet to MC, tending to their wounds and acting as if the worst is over and there was nothing to fear. They don't look angry or immediately went for revenge.

That is, until you recover and ??? brought you down to the basement and turn on the lights to reveal a training dummy and some melee weapons. ??? would pass them each melee weapon, telling MC to try out each one. Though it was unsettling, MC still did it...Until the training dummy was leaking out blood. But ??? would tell the MC to keep going until every melee weapon there was turned red and dirtied. ???, smiling proudly, walks over to the training dummy and unzipped the thing, revealing the culprit being inside with a tape over their gagged mouth. "Would you look at that - a hidden prize for my little chick~"

#silverking #Dark!AU #ROasks #murder #TWs #Minors are NOT allowed #NSFWasks

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sombreboy · 4 years

Text

uhgood⇢dom!knj x male reader

I get so hungry, when you say you love me. - Ke$ha, cannibal

⇢18+ ⇢pairing: Namjoon x male reader ⇢genre: pwp smut ⇢word count: 2.9k ⇢warnings: smut, daddykink, babyboy/good boy kink, knj calls you puppy fuckkk yes, praise kink cuz it’s me what’d you expect, anal fingering, spitting, degrading dirty talk, dom/sub play, BDSM themes/shibari, creampie in the ass thats right the good stuff, sounding(cock stuffing/urethral penetration)⇠pls don’t do this without research.

Request by anon: could i request knj x male reader where the reader teases Joon all day and once they’re home he goes hardcore dom on the reader (this is so cliche but as a male reader i am starving) maybe sprinkling in some bdsm and a daddy kink🤲🏽 A/N: I might’ve not gone as hardcore as I initially planned but I kind of love it anyway and it’s my first male reader smut that I’ve written myself and please praise me for doing well ♡ I hope you love it anon.

Namjoon was fuming, you could easily tell.

The two of you had been out running errands, hung out with friends, and throughout the entire day you’d been the biggest fucking brat that Namjoon had ever seen you be, constantly teasing him in various ways. From light touches on his thigh, to deliberately brushing your ass against his crotch in a crowd, to even the less subtle way you ate that god damn cursed popsicle like it was Joon’s cock itself drove your boyfriend closer and closer to madness.

Yeah, Namjoon was fuming. His nostrils were flaring, and his entire body was aching to put you back in your place.

And you? You were thriving, loving how worked up your boyfriend was because of you, hoping this would be enough to drive him over the edge to play with you until you physically couldn’t handle it anymore.

Namjoon was generally a slightly awkward, dimpled sweetheart that wouldn’t even smack a mosquito if he saw one, and your heart was incredibly soft for him in every way possible. But behind closed doors, he was a different man entirely.. His sadistic, dominant persona drowned every piece of your loving boyfriend the second you heard the lock of the front door echo in the hallway.

You yelped when you suddenly felt your entire body being shoved back against the wall, Joon towering over you with one strong hand grasping around your jaw to force you to look at him. His eyes were serious, gracing you with an intense, icy glare, the shape resembling that of a dragon.

‘’Tsk, I bet you had so much fun all day teasing me like that, hm?’’ Namjoon hissed, tightening the grip around your jaw to draw a gasp from your lips before he leaned in to kiss you harshly, biting down on your lower lip to make you whine and squirm underneath him. He pulled back with a mocking chuckle, ‘’You have no right to whine, now, babyboy. It’s time for my kind of fun now... that’s what you wanted all along, no?’’

He was right. So, you nodded.

‘’Speak.’’

‘’I want it, I want you to play with me Joonie..’’

‘’Ah ah,’’ Namjoon wiggled a finger in front of your face, his eyes softening for a mere second as his hot breath fanned your face, ‘’When we play, I am not Joonie. I’m not Namjoon. It’s always Daddy.’’ He kissed you softly once, the sweet Namjoon momentarily peeking through his persona, ‘’Ready to play?’’

‘’Yes daddy.’’ You whisper, already feeling your body heat up in mere anticipation.

‘’Good boy.’’ Namjoon pulls back to start walking towards the bedroom, not even looking back to see if you were following. Of course you did. You followed your boyfriend like a puppy, and you would stick to him even if he guided you through the fires of hell itself.

Namjoon headed towards the chest in the bedroom that contained all of his favorite things; toys to use on you, his little puppy.

‘’Get undressed and lay down.’’ He casually ordered as he rummaged through his tools, not telling you which one he’s gonna use today. By the sound of it, there’s gonna be more than one; which meant he was going to take some extra time to use you today.

Namjoon turned on his heels to approach the bed where you were naked on your back, completely exposed and vulnerable for him to see every inch of your, for now, unblemished skin.

‘’I love you.’’ Namjoon says calmly, his stoic expression contrasting the sweet words, ‘’I warned you.’’ he added, merely a whisper flowing through the quiet room as he circled the bed to stand on the side of it. By now, you knew he was fully immersed in his role as your dom.

There were many reasons to love Namjoon, and one of them was his ability to show little to no mercy in the bedroom. Previous lovers were too soft with you, scared of hurting you. But not Joon, no. He knew exactly what he was doing, carefully planning out and executing whatever the fuck he wanted to do to his perfect plaything.

‘’Your cock is already getting hard,’’ Namjoon snickered as he pursed his lips, reaching out to give the tip of your length a flick of his fingers, earning a needy wince from your expression along with a quiet gasp, ‘’Such a slut.’’

‘’Yes, for you..’’ You whisper, placing your hands above your head to look even more deliciously vulnerable for him.

‘’That’s right. You only see me, nobody else.’’ Namjoon states as he placed his tools on the nightstand, grabbing the shibari ropes to get to work. It was one of his favorites, decorating your body with the red material in precious patterns. It was even better than simple nudity in his own opinion. He tied your wrists above your head, securing you to the headboard bars to make sure you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. He proceeded to bend your legs, spread and knees pressed against your stomach as he made sure you were prettily exposed for his eyes, needy erection growing harder as he jerked the ropes to ensure it was tight-- but not too tight.

‘’Color?’’ He glanced at you to make sure.

‘’Green.’’

At your consent, he resumed to take his shirt off, keeping his lower part clothed for the time being. The air in the room grew thicker with the way his eyes were practically devouring your sinful, tied up body.

‘’You’ve wanted my attention all day.’’ He says with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he reached over for his bottle of lube and a small metal rod. Your cock twitched and eyes widened when you saw the little surgical tool in his hand, knowing just exactly what was coming.

Namjoon sat down on the foot of the bed by your exposed ass, perfectly spread and on display for him. Placing the little metal rod on the bed, he decided to start off easy. He spat on your entrance, using the pad of his finger to circle his saliva around the sensitive rim of your opening.

‘’What a pretty little hole you have, puppy.’’ He cooes, the praise making your heart flutter, about to open your mouth to respond-- but nothing but a whiny moan pushed through your lips as Namjoon lubed up his middle finger only to sink it inside of you. ‘’And so tight too, fuck..’’ He groans, feeling your warm, fleshy insides squeeze his digit, working against him as if trying to push him out. But to no avail, he kept pushing his finger inside until he was knuckle deep. Your breath grew heavier, gasping when he wiggled his finger inside of you before withdrawing far enough to where only his fingernail was engulfed by your warmth. He added a second finger, this time having to apply some more strength to force them all the way inside, another groan vibrating in his chest as he does so. ‘’So tight I can’t believe it, how are you gonna take my cock? Fuck..’’ Namjoon foamed at the mouth at the mere thought, he was eager to stuff you full with his cum already; but his patience and desire to properly drive you mad for him was a much higher priority before then. It’d be a reward to simply let you have his cum.

‘’Please, daddy, just fuck me already.’’ You whined, a hint of attitude in your tone as you looked down at your boyfriend. He raised an eyebrow at you from where he was, gaze squinting slightly in annoyance.

‘’I do whatever the fuck I want. Your body is mine to play with,’’ Namjoon scissored his fingers inside of you once, twice before roughly fucking into you, the squelching sounds rivaling the sudden moans he forced out of your throat, ‘’Or would you prefer for me to just leave you untouched for the night? Hm? Is that what you want?!’’

‘’Ah, fuck! No, daddy--’’ Your voice broke as you jerk your arms within the restraints, ‘’I’m sorry, please keep playing with me!’’

As if he wasn’t already.

Namjoon’s wicked smile grew as he kept his rough pace for a little longer until the glide of his fingers worked in and out of your hole with ease. He prodded deeply, brushing the pad of his fingers against your prostate to drive you closer to the edge.

‘’Oh, I’m gonna cum…’’ You cry out, a layer of tears blurring your vision. Another whine in disappointment escaped your lips when Namjoon suddenly pulled his fingers out with a wet ‘pop’, licking your juices off of his hand.

‘’Not yet. You’re too greedy.’’

‘’Daddy, seriously…’’ You pout, earning a stern glare from Namjoon that has your insides stirring. But in reality, both of you enjoyed the small dynamic.

‘’Ungrateful little whore.’’ Namjoon tsk’s as he grabs the small metal rod, warming the material in his hand as he uses his free hand to hold your aching length straight, ‘’And here I was going to make you feel so good. You want this, don’t you?’’ He dangled the small tool, your quick nodding serving as your reply. ‘’That’s what I thought. You’re so kinky, puppy.’’

Says the man with the small piece of metal in his hand, you mused.

Namjoon was patient, holding your cock in his hand until it slowly went flaccid in his hands. It was easier this way, and much more fun. When deemed soft enough, he gently prodded at your urethra with the toy, slowly pushing in inside as his other hand held you still. His eyes flickered between his ministrations and your face, closely keeping track of any sign of pain. He knows it’s bound to bring you some discomfort, but he knew you loved it--and he knew exactly how to do this properly with you. It is an intense feeling, the deeper he pushed the sounder, the tighter your eyebrows were knit together in focus, breathing heavily with the occasional whimper escaping your lips.

Like this, you were truly beautiful in Namjoon’s eyes. So vulnerable and responsive, he felt powerful. This was one of his favorite toys, no doubt. He knew exactly how deep you could take it, going so incredibly slow; the sensitive tissue far too precious to damage. There was no need to go rough, simply move it very, very carefully inside of you, every nerve in your cock responding to the smooth glide.

‘’Oh, yes… Feels good, daddy..’’ Your voice was breathy, your high pitched whimpers made Namjoon’s bulge throb in his pants, leaking precum in his boxers. Fuck, you were delicious.

‘’Such a good boy, you take it so well.’’ Namjoon praised you, another rush of heat and excitement washed over you, a small smile tugging at your lips before your expression morphed into pleasure, lips parting in a loud moan when he gently prodded your prostate again. Your cock grew hard, making it a bit more difficult for him to move the sounder inside of you, and a slight sting in pain as your urethra tightened around the tool.

‘’Ow, too much…’’ You whine, feeling your edging orgasm build up once more, ‘’yellow, yellow…’’

Namjoon slowed down, carefully sliding the metal rod out of you and placing it back on the bed, his eyes admiring your stretched, wet holes.

‘’God, such a pretty man.’’ Namjoon coyly said as he worked to pull his pants down along with his underwear, his thick length sprung up when it was finally set free from the restraints of fabrics, tip red and slick with his precum, ‘’You’ve been a good, good boy. Do you want a reward?’’

‘’I want you, Joo--.. Daddy.’’ You corrected yourself quickly, but with the way he crooked his eyebrow at you, he noticed your slip up.

‘’Close call. I almost would’ve had to punish you for it.’’ Namjoon licked his lips as he crawled on top of you, sitting on his knees between your legs as he rubbed circles on the bulbous head of his cock with his thumb, eyes fixed on your entrance.

‘’Sorry, I’m sorry…’’ You swallowed tightly, voice weak as you wiggled your hips, ‘’Please reward me, I promise I’ll make you feel so good.’’

‘’I don’t doubt it, puppy. Your ass is dripping for me.’’ His lower lip was swollen from biting down on it so much, but the light aching on his mouth was nothing compared to the pleasure he was about to feel. He pumped himself a few more times before moving his hips forward, pushing his swollen head inside of you with ease, ‘’God, you’re so perfect. Made for my cock.’’

‘’Ah..’’ Namjoon drove his hips forward until he was fully nestled inside of your ass, his cock throbbing as he took a moment to adjust to the tightness wrapping around his length, biting back an eager moan at the sensation. He leaned down on top of you, pressing a kiss on your lips before trailing down your neck, bottom lip grazing your unsteady adam’s apple before giving it a light suck to color the skin with a small hickey. ‘’Gonna take my cock like a good boy.’’ Namjoon growled lowly as he started grinding his hips into you, ‘’And you’re gonna make me feel so fucking good.’’ He resumed to litter hickeys down your neck, replacing his soft lips with teeth, biting down to mark your collarbone.

The short, sweet moment didn’t last for very long however, as Namjoon grew greedier from the way your fleshy walls closed in on him. Even after being with you for so long, Namjoon felt himself throbbing from the expressions you’d make as he thrusted into you.

‘’More, more, daddy please..’’ You cry out breathily, fighting the restraints that are tightly holding your wrists together, a layer of sweat glistening on your torso. You audibly gasp when a particularly hard thrust smacked against your ass.

Your incoherent pleads turned into slurry words with every thrust, Namjoon finally began to give you what you wanted. Faster, harder, more, he slammed his cock into you, low grunts slipping past his teeth.

‘’Squeezing my cock so tight, fuck…’’ Namjoon’s mouth hung open, eyes never wavering from yours as he dug his blunt nails into the skin of your thighs, pressing your knees harder against your chest to allow him to reach even deeper, ‘’Tell me how it feels, babyboy.’’

‘’S-so good, shit, so good… ‘m gonna cum, please don’t stop…!’’ You rambled, head snapping from side to side with your eyes screwed shut. It was overwhelming, how good it felt every single time Namjoon’s cock rubbed and prodded your insides, the lewd, slick sounds of his length being only half way pulled out before he slammed right back in, skin smacking together harder and harder as he grew greedy for your shameless moans.

''I'm gonna cum-- Joonie, I'm-- I won't be able to hold it..'' Your words broke into a moan when Namjoon reached down to engulf your needy cock in his tight grasp, mercilessly pumping it from the very start.

''Gonna cum too, fill your perfect little ass. That's your reward for being such a good boy, making me feel so fuckin' good..'' Namjoon let your slip of using his nickname pass, because he felt his orgasm building up so quickly that nothing else mattered, it was too good, sloppily fucking into you while simultaneously jerking you off. Both of you were moaning, grunting, sweaty messes by now, indulged in the moment of simply feeling, not thinking.

Namjoon let go of your cock the second you came, pathetically throbbing untouched as hot ropes of white pooled at your stomach. A throaty moan erupted from your chest, the sensation so intense when your boyfriend kept driving his cock into you as deep as physically possible.

‘’Fuck yes, so pretty when you cum, such a good boy--’’ Namjoon praised between grunts, hovering above you as he placed his palms adjacent to your head, sweat dripping from his temples. The rhythm in his hips was irregular at this point, no care for keeping a steady pace, but instead to indulge in the pleasure of just fucking you. A few rough thrusts later, you gasp when Namjoon’s cock throbbed heavily inside of you, feeling the hot gushes of cum coating your insides. You deliberately clench around him, drawing a broken moan from Namjoon as he slows down his stuttering hips.

‘’Ah, puppy, you feel fantastic.’’ Namjoon breathed out, leaning down to kiss you softly, still slowly rocking his hips back and forth to ensure he’s given you every single drop of his cum. He pulls back to look at you, his soft dimpled smile growing when you mirrored his expression of joy. He inched closer, stealing another kiss from you before he gets up to untie you.

‘’What do you say now, baby?’’ Namjoon coyly asked as he put away the ropes, crawling into bed next to you to embrace his little good boy in his arms.

‘’Thank you.’’ You scrunch your nose in a small smile, cuddling up against his clammy chest, listening to his still racing heart.

‘’Thank youuu, what?’’ He pouted.

‘’Joonie.’’

‘’Ddaeng.’’ Namjoon sighed, ‘’I wish you’d call me daddy more.’’

‘’Never outside of this room.’’

‘’One day.’’ Namjoon chuckled, pressing a kiss against your sweaty temple.

‘’Oooor not.’’ You countered.

‘’One day.’’ He repeated with confidence, squeezing his arms around you tighter.

As always, they both knew Namjoon always got what he wanted eventually.

It was just a matter of patience.

#fic: uhgood #namjoon smut #rm smut #kim namjoon smut #bts smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x male #namjoon x male reader #bts x male #bts x male reader #namjoon pwp #sombreboy

691 notes · View notes

ga-yuu · 3 years

Text

Genjiden~Eternal Contract Story Event~Ibuki Route

‘(Just for those who don’t know what this event is about? This is the 2nd ‘What if’ event following the Shirabyoshi Event. In this event, Yoshino(MC) is a demon from birth, and stories are formulated in such a way showing how the male leads and Yoshino will meet and fall in love if she was a demon. Imagine the real prologue without Yoshino in it, because this story is happening after that.)

The beautiful flowers of the Otherworld bloom and sways even though there is no wind.

There are similar ones in the human world, but I don’t when it is at its best there....

(Okay, I think it’s time to go to the human world.)

I’m a demon, who often visits the human world.

It’s fun to experience different landscapes and creatures from the human world.

(Of course, that’s not the only reason why I go there.)

As I wondered if today would be the day I would achieve my goal, I stepped towards the gate.

???: “You’re here again.”

(Hm?)

I see a strange man blocking my path.

He had rich long golden hair and two horns were growing out of it----

Yoshino: “-----Oni?”

His frosty eyes shine brightly.

Oni: *Smiles like a creep*

(Ummm...)

I stepped back immediately when I felt the intimidating feeling seeping out of him even when he doesn’t talk.

(I can feel that he’s not just any Oni.)

Oni: “I am Ibuki. Have you heard of that name?”

(Ibuki? Hmmm....)

Yoshino: “Are you saying that you’re the Demon King?”

Shuten Doji, Ibuki. That was the name that came to my mind.

The Demon King or more precisely Ibuki-sama looks down at me in amusement when I was looking back at him in surprise.

Ibuki: “I’ve heard that you’ve got a rare gift. I’m a busy man you know. But I still came all this way to see you, and it wouldn’t hurt to make me happy, right?”

Yoshino: “Eerrmmm....”

(Actually, it’s true that I have a one in a million rare power.)

Yoshino: “But why did you wanna see me?”

Ibuki-sama slowly takes a step towards me.

Ibuki: “Your exceptional powers might attract humans. So I thought, you would make a very interesting toy.”

I raised an eyebrow at his insinuations.

(You want to use my powers to destroy humans? How dare you!)

Yoshino: “Sorry. I can’t cooperate with that.”

Snickering at my rejection, Ibuki-sama lifts one hand casually.

Ibuki: “It seems you have mistaken. I’m not here to negotiate. I’m here to do what I want.”

(Is that thunder!?)

I had a bad feeling and quickly ducked down.

The next thing I knew, a bolt of lightning strike the spot where I was standing.

(Is that Ibuki-sama’s powers...!?)

Ibuki: “What’s wrong? Isn’t it time to run? Come on, run away and I’ll keep chasing you.”

Yoshino: “I will, even if you don’t tell me to.”

I turned my back to Ibuki-sama, and started running as fast as I could.

Ibuki: “Not bad.... It’s fun to chase someone so fast.”

(I’m totally being played. It’s frustrating.....but I have to get out of here now anyway!)

.................

I continued running till I reached my limit and then fell onto my knees in the flower field.

(No more...!)

I was breathing heavily and my legs were shaking.

Ibuki: “You’ve done well for a little girl, but that’s the end of your marathon.”

Yoshino: “Ah!”

Before I knew it, Ibuki-sama was standing right behind me, his arms holding my waist.

Like a predator, he pushed me down on the ground and held me by the nape of my neck.

(Is he going to kill me?)

Ibuki; “Don’t be so hard on yourself. What’s the point if there’s no response?”

Yoshino: “Eh?...Ah!!”

A fleshy wet thing touches the edge of my ear and a shiver runs down my spine.

(He’s also biting...!)

When I turned my head in surprise, our eyes meet and Ibuki-sama was laughing seeing my ridiculous reaction.

Ibuki: “Hehe, the face you’re making now is nasty.”

Yoshino: “M-My face...?”

Ibuki: “Your face is telling me that you can’t look at anything else but me and you’re anticipating something more.”

Then, Ibuki-sama inserts two fingers in my mouth and plays with my tongue.

Just as I was about to sink my teeth into his fingers, he sweetly tweaked the nape of my neck, and my whole body jumped in excitement.

Ibuki: “You’re resisting like a kitten. How cute.”

Yoshino: “Nnn...nnn....”

Ibuki: “Now, why don’t try saying ‘Meow.”

(No way!!)

Ibuki-sama’s long fingers tickled the sensitive parts of my mouth and laughed while watching me struggle.

After my tongue was released, I started breathing sweetly.

Yoshino: “Why....are you doing this....?”

Ibuki: “Why?”

Ibuki-sama’s wet fingers traced down my neck and I felt a chill and fear at the same time.

Ibuki: “Because your reaction is human-like and it’s very intriguing.”

(Why...)

Yoshino: “Why do you want to do terrible things to humans?”

Ibuki: “We both are demons. Isn’t it natural for demons to torment and corrupt humans?”

Yoshino: “No! I won’t do that! All I want to do is make a deal with a human.”

Shaking off his fingers on my neck, I pushed away Ibuki-sama.

Ibuki: “You want to make a deal? Did you hit your head or something?”

A glimmer of interest shines in Ibuki-sama’s eyes.

(Looks like I have to tell him what’s going on.)

I decided to give up the idea of running away and told him about my goal.

Yoshino: “...As you already know, I have the powers to heal a person. But when I heal someone, I have to take away the life force of another living being. And, I have no control over this power.”

Ibuki: “So you want to make a deal with a human to weaken your powers.”

Ibuki-sama chuckled after guessing my goal correctly.

It’s kind of embarrassing to be seen through, so I didn’t argue.

Ibuki: “You really are stupid.”

The corners of Ibuki-sama’s mouth moves up and it didn’t hide the fact that he was amused.

Ibuki: “Humans are cute but stupid creatures. Creatures who dream something beyond their reach and will do anything to achieve even if it means to get their hands dirty.”

(Of course, I’m well aware that not all humans are good...)

Yoshino: “But Ibuki-sama who has never made a deal with a human, can never understand my feelings!”

Ibuki-sama, who is so strong and can conquer different powers perfectly, is so beautiful.

I’m so disappointed that I can’t do anything but say it back to him like a sore loser.

Ibuki: “......”

I saw Ibuki-sama looking down at me emotionlessly.

(Did I offend him....? I did offend him, didn’t I? Looks like my time is over.)

I clenched my fists and mentally prepared myself to be struck by lightning.

Ibuki: “Do you want to play a game?”

(It’s not a death game, right?)

With unexpected words, Ibuki-sama pinched my forehead.

Ibuki: “If I win, you’ll agree to be my toy and let me torment you.”

.............

A month has passed since that day. Ibuki-sama brought me to the human world since then and I’ve been living with him at his base.

The rule of our game was simple-----If I don’t find a human within the next three months to make a deal with, Ibuki-sama wins. If I did find one, I win.

(And the loser has to surrender to the winner.)

(So I’ve no intention of losing!)

Ibuki-sama opened his mouth to start small talk, perhaps after seeing me trembling thinking about the wildest things that would happen if I lose.

Ibuki: “You’ve been eyeing a daughter of a noble family, weren’t you....She does charity for the poor out of vanity. But I heard behind the scenes, her attitude towards her servants is the worst. How about seducing a man with your pretty face? There was a guy asking for you-----”

Yoshino: “I don’t want to hear that.”

I slumped my shoulders thinking about the number of humans I’ve been striking off from my list in the past month.

Ibuki: “And there’s this another man, who is was an official, famous for his integrity. I did a little bit of digging and found out he got into embezzlement.”

Yoshino: “I said NO!”

Ibuki: “You never do any background check before agreeing to one. Be grateful that you don’t have to deal with weirdos.”

(Yeah...It’s hard to accept it.)

I initially doubted Ibuki-sama when he told me about these facts and went to find out by myself.

No matter how many times I repeat the confirmation, I’m only reminded that the words are not false.

(I hate to admit it, but he has been sincere about this game from day one.)

Yoshino: “If only I had been able to scare humans into doing bad things like Ibuki-sama....”

Ibuki: “I don’t like doing boring things like that. I’m more into breaking them right away.”

Yoshino: “And you’re seduction skills are too good.”

(You’re strong and clever, if only you were also a good person....I might have been attracted to you.)

I sighed, but Ibuki-sama reaches out to play with my hair.

(...Hm?)

Ibuki: “Hey, Yoshino. Are you ready to admit it? That it’s better to play with humans than to make a deal with them.”

Yoshino: “I haven’t given up yet.”

Ibuki: “Good. It’s the ones who don’t give up easily are worth breaking.”

At the same time, when Ibuki-sama smiled at me----

???: “Ibuki!”

The front door opens to reveal a pale-looking man.

Ibuki: “Akihito? What’s wrong?”

(Akihito-san? For a human being, he has a very strange aura.)

Even after seeing, Ibuki-sama’s two antennas he’s calm. Looks like he’s aware of demons and the Otherworld.

Akihito: “It’s Yasuchika. He’s serious.”

Ibuki: “What?”

Yoshino: “Who is Yasuchika-san?”

(Who is he? and he’s fatally injured?)

Looking at me from the sideways, Ibuki-sama shrugs.

Ibuki: “He’s an Onmyoji and human, but I don’t think he’s someone suitable for your case.”

Akihito: “Who is this, Ibuki?”

(!!!)

I met Akihito-san’s eyes and bowed lightly.

Ibuki: “Don’t worry. She’s a fellow demon and a playmate of mine.”

Hiding me behind his back, Ibuki-sama turns to Akihito-san.

Ibuki: “More than that, What actually happened to Yasuchika?”

Akihito: “I’m not sure of the details yet. It seems like he was badly injured in a rash attempt to exterminate a demon at the request of his superior.”

Ibuki: “........Ohh?”

Akihito: “They did everything they could to treat him on the road. But on the way to Kyoto, the wound got infected and he lost consciousness. The pharmacist has told me that if things continue to go badly, he could lose his life.”

Ibuki: “.....I see.”

(So he’s suffering from a life-threatening injury.)

Ibuki: “But this news is new to me.”

Akihito: “He didn’t tell anyone about this mission because he didn’t want me to get in trouble.”

Ibuki: “That’s because.....that moron loves you too much.”

His tone was the same, but...when he said ‘moron’ I felt a different temperature, unlike the usual.

(I think I may have never seen Ibuki-sama’s face like this before.)

Akihito: “I was naive. I should have seen this coming.”

Even Akihito-san's cool countenance is now tinged with anguish.

(A human named Akihito-san, an Onmyoji named Yasuchika-san and the Demon King Ibuki....I don’t know what their relationship is nor the circumstances of these three.)

(But I can at least make out that, the person named Yasuchika-san is an irreplaceable existence for both Ibuki-sama and Akihito-san.)

Above all that----

I was moved by Ibuki-sama’s earnestness. So I made my resolve.

Yoshino: “Ibuki-sama.”

Ibuki: “What? I’m busy. We’ll play later.”

I didn’t listen to his rejection and stepped forward.

Yoshino: “Please allow me to use my powers.”

Ibuki: “What!?”

At my words, Akihito-san also blinked his eyes.

Akihito: “Your powers?”

Yoshino: “I have the powers to heal others. ...But there’s a problem.”

I gave a brief explanation of the drawback of my ‘healing abilities’ to Akihito-san.

Akihito: “I’m surprised. I never thought I would see a demon with such a rare gift.”

Yoshino: “You’re right. But when it comes to a fatally injured person, it takes a great deal of life force to heal him. If I take too much life force to heal Yasuchika-san, I might end up killing the other person I took it from.”

Ibuki: “And she can’t control her powers by herself.”

Ibuki-sama calmly points out my problem.

(When I hear him say that, I feel sorry for myself.)

But I can’t just overlook a problem because of that.

Yoshino: “I can’t control it, but Ibuki-sama, who is a demon, is sure to be immune to my Otherworldly powers.”

Ibuki: “...Yeah, so?”

Ibuki-sama narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously.

Yoshino: “Here’s the plan, I’ll use Akihito-san’s life force to heal Yasuchika-san.”

Ibuki: “......”

Yoshino: “But if heal him fully without leaving a scratch, Akihito-san’s life will be in danger. So when I go out of control, I want you to stop me with your powers.”

(It’s actually hard to guess exactly when to stop, but....)

Yoshino: “A smart demon like Ibuki-sama should know what I’m capable of and would save Akihito-san, no matter what, right?”

I could feel the intimidation raising as I openly challenged him.

Ibuki: “...Yeah, whatever.”

Akihito-san smiled softly, not taking into account the tingling atmosphere of Ibuki-sama.

Akihito: “I don’t mind. Half of my life for him is a small price to pay.”

Ibuki: “You’ll always be you, selfish.”

(Akihito-san is quite a man to be able to tame Ibuki-sama.)

Ibuki-sama sighed and shifted his gaze to me.

Ibuki: “Yoshino.”

He gives me a sharp look as if to see my true intentions.

Ibuki: “---Why are you doing this? You shouldn’t have any reason to do this.”

(There is no point in lying to Ibuki-sama.)

Yoshino: “When Yasuchika-san’s injury news came to you...for the first time I saw Ibuki-sama showing a slight difference from his usual self. Yasuchika-san must be a very important person for Ibuki-sama.”

Ibuki: “Oh, are taking pity on me?”

Yoshino: “...No.”

(I can’t suggest such a scary thing out of pity.)

If Akihito-san or Yasuchika-san were to lose their lives because of my powers, then......my legs ache just thinking about it.

I became honest towards Ibuki-sama as to why I am doing this.

Yoshino: “I’m just curious to know what kind of person Ibuki-sama, who knows so much about the negative side of humans, is worried about.”

Ibuki: “.......”

Yoshino: “...I wonder what kind of face Ibuki-sama will make if I help him. I want to see it.”

(I know I’m saying something bold. But I really want to save Yasuchika-san but....)

(Also with the same strong feeling, I’d like to see Ibuki-sama’s expressions that I don’t know.)

Ibuki: “...Heh.”

Then his thin lips gave out a smirk.

Ibuki: “So you want to have some fun with my heart? You’ve got some nerve.”

A faint heat flickered behind Ibuki-sama’s eyes.

Yoshino: “Can’t I?”

Ibuki: “It’s not a good idea to use a human’s life as a shield against a Demon King.”

The words that were supposed to be like a threat turned out to be much warmer.

(I’m supposed to be sacred, but I can’t see or hear anything but Ibuki-sama.)

A quiet heat had seized me and was about to engulf me.

Even so, I kept my face up because I was proud of what I said.

Ibuki: “It’s not good, but....it’s certainly a demon thing to do, to act on one’s own interests.”

(Ahh!!!)

Ibuki-sama big arm intertwined my faintly trembling hands and held them tightly.

Ibuki: “I’ll go play your game. So don’t be afraid to help me.”

Premium END // Epilogue

For the Anon, who wanted to see this.

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen genjiden ibuki #ikemen mc #otome #ikemen series story events #ikemen genjiden story event

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clickbait-official · 4 years

Text

Warnings: cursing, everyone is ooc, violence, weird writing

~~~

The sun rises on a horrible day.

You wake up knowing it will be a terrible day.

It's one of those days you just know.

You have a mother and an older twin.

Your older brother’s name is Izuku. He is very nice.

Izuku talks about someone named Kacchan?

He doesn’t seem half as nice as your brother makes him seem, after seeing him in person.

Izuku’s always very jumpy around Kacchan. Like he’s afraid.

But one day that changed.

~~~

“Hey! Extra! Come here!” Bakugou calls out to you, thinking you’re Izuku.

He expects you to jump, and generally be how Izuku is around Kacchan.

But you’re not Izuku. You’re you. And that sentence does not sound grammatically correct.

Things happen, and because you already knew it was going to be a bad day, it’s no surprise when Bakugou accidentally breaks your arm.

He freezes.

He picks you up and runs to Recovery Girl.

She asks what happened, and as Bakugou goes to answer, you whisper

“I fell down the stairs and hurt myself bad.”

Bakugou nods along.

~~~

“Why did you lie for me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I-”

“I fell down the stairs, and you just helped me to Recovery Girl. Like every other hero-in-training would. Got it?”

“I-yes.”

~~~

Izuku notices that Kacchan doesn’t bully him anymore. He asks his friend group, and eventually you.

“Hey, what happened with Bakugou? He seems kind of… scared? Whenever I come near him, he doesn’t even yell! It’s like a whole different person! Do you know why he’s acting so weird?” He asks one day.

You decide to tell him the truth.

“Don’t get angry, big bro.”

You only ever pull out the “big bro” when you might be in trouble.

“But you know how I broke my arm the other day?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, umm, Kacchan accidentally broke my arm?”

“WHAT?!?”

“Shh! Don’t yell!”

“Where is he?”

He looks around and upon seeing him, marches over.

“You.”

Bakugou turns around

“What the hell do you want, stupid deku?”

“You have no right to look at me like that. You know what you did.”

“What did he do?” Denki asks

“He broke my sibling’s fucking arm and for what? Petty jealousy? Run after me all you want but don’t ever come never my sibling ever again.”

The courtyard is silent. Then the whispers start.

“He seems really angry.”

“This doesn’t seem like him.”

“We probably shouldn’t go after his fucking silbling, jesus christ”

He turns on his heel and brings you back to the school.

Bakugou apologizes later.

~~~

“I’m-I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, i guess. Just don’t do it again, oky? And don’t go after my brother!”

Conversation slowly dies out and you two stand there, neither really wishing to part.

Izuku comes up.

“What did I tell you, Bakugou?”

He grabs Bakugou’s arm and drags him away

And everyone’s like woah bitch is pretty damn strong.

Izuku just talked to Bakugou. Saying not to go near his darling sibling.

You were eating lunch outside when a very strange group of people showed up about 100 yards away.

Izuku recognized them, apparently.

“The LOV!”

They grabbed your arm and tried to pull you away.

But Bakugou punched one of them, and so their attention was on them.

“Take me instead.”

So they took him away.

By saving you, he sacrificed himself.

You ought to pay your debts, you know.

Tis the law of equivalent exchange.

It’s 9 when you leave a note for your brother. Just in case you don’t come back.

You sneak out the night after looking for him.

No one is awake in the city.

It’s a quiet night.

You walk near an abandoned warehouse when you hear an explosion from the inside.

Bakugou?

“Just go the fuck to sleep, brat.”

That sounded like one of the villains!

You stay outside for a while before sneaking in.

The door opens to a hallway

There’s a cell on the right side.

Inside was… Bakugou?

You grab the key and open the cell. You walk in, and shake him awake. He looks exhausted.

“Cmon, we gotta go.”

He stirs awake and sits up. He stands up slowly.

You lead him out of the cell and down the hall.

While walking down the hall, you two smack into something. It’s soft and fleshy.

A person?

No. A nomu. Which is arguably worse.

But the nomu was pink?

It turned around slowly

The nomu was very vain.

It’s one of those things you just know.

The nomu still had hair?

And the amount of hairspray the nomu used had probably single-handed caused climate change.

Your fav the nomu is problematic.

After complimenting it many times, the nomu lets you go.

You know, to move the plot forward.

You run out of the building into the nearby woods.

Rushing through the thorny bushes- Bakugou goes first so you don’t get hurt.

Kinda hot, ngl.

Katsuki cuts himself on a rather large thorn, and curses quietly.

He knows now’s no place to be loud.

You rest under a tree.

You only brought a small backpack w/ water, snacks, and a small medical kit.

You fix his arm. He goes much quieter.

“Thank you.” He says, real softly.

After putting away the medical kit, you fall asleep on him.

He feels your head on his shoulder and turns his head towards you.

“What the hell, extra- oh.”

He picks you up and starts walking.

~~~

It’s 4 in the morning when you wake up.

“Finally, stupid. We gotta go now.”

You two walk back to his dorm.

He lays you on his bed, then lays beside you.

You both fall asleep to the sun rising.

~~~

“Should we go in?”

“If there’s any evidence of where my sibling is, I want to see it.”

The door opens wildly.

Several eyes roam the room before landing on the people on the bed.

“They’re here?”

Izuku runs into the room.

“Why are you here? How’d you get here? Did the LOV do anything to you? Are you hurt? Why is Baku-“

You smack Izuku and hug Bakugou closer.

He opens an eye open and says

“We’ll talk to you dumbasses later.”

Then falls back asleep. Soon, you do too.

“Aww” Kirishima whispers.

Izuku smiles a little.

“As long as he doesn’t hurt her again, i guess i’ll be happy for them”

-timeskip to many years later-

“Cmon, dad! We’re having a playdate with Uncle Midorya’s kid!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

You’ve gotten married 20 years later and adopted a kid. You’re happy, with your little family.

The End.

(that ending was really rushed sorry bout that)

#bakugou x reader #tw bullying #tw bones #it was supposed to be an enemies to lovers but i failed #oops #:/#bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #clickbait

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cassidybueter · 4 years

Text

A play by play reaction of the live-action FMA movie: because I hate myself and also you.

Oh good. It has English dubs. So it'll be a delight for both the eyes and ears.

Mama Elric dies from hugs.

NO CHARACTERIZATION. ONLY PLOT.

If I hadn't read the manga, I'd be totally lost. And because I read the manga, I know it's bad. Who was this for?

There are many female voice actors that can do convincing young boy voices. These... are not those actors.

Why is Father Cornello running around a clearly empty city?

I keep expecting Edward's discount bin Spirit Halloween wig to fly off.

The only people trying are the CGI animators.

Alphonse has said nothing and done nothing because animation is expensive.

And cover up the metal arm! Quickly! Before we have to figure out how to do a good effect!

Suddenly the town is filled with people.

Why is Mustang in Leore?

Why... is he arresting Edward?

The philosopher's stone is clearly red plastic.

Remeber how I said the animators were trying? I take that back. Al's animator is very drunk.

WHY IS WINRY IN LIORE?! What the fuck?

How are we in East City?! It's miles away. Did we teleport?!

And why is Edward's dialogue so muffled? Was it being recorded through a pillow? No one else's is this bad.

They ditched Al in Leore so they wouldn't have to animate him.

Damn. These characters really do telelort at the speed of plot.

Ok. Points where they're due: Hughes' actor seems good and the shadow of Gluttony eating someone is very intimidating.

Winry is a brunette. Which wouldn't be weird except that they put so much non-effort into making Ed blonde.

This would probably be great if it were, say, a comic book, or an animated TV show.

Truth: How'd you like it? Ed's actor: Well, it's a paycheck.

After they transmuted their mom, Edward turned into his teenage actor, because the little kids can't act.

"This house is huge" *doesn't show house.*

Anime Shou Tucker looked kinda creepy, but possibly friendly. This Shou Tucker is just some sleepy dude.

Mustang and Hughes walk down Generic Path of Exposition. Screw creativity, we pray to the ALMIGHTY PLOT.

Again: Why is Winry here?

I like how Ed just ditches his brother anytime the director thinks the budget is getting too big.

They got the most wooden VAs for like half the characters. And the shittiest microphone for the main character!

You know what the original story was missing? GOD DAMNED HYPNOSIS. THE LAZIEST TROPE.

Winry is the real main character. She does things and Edward/Alphonse follow blindly.

Edward's metal hand makes a very fleshy sound when slapped against the table.

Marcho's dead. Lol.

A man died in front of us and we found the secret to the stone. Next scene!

CGI dog Nina looks like Snuffaluffagus.

This scene was creepier when hand drawn.

Now that Winry has been so firmly established as the third Elric Brother, it's weirder when she's not around.

Okay, when the classic dialogue from the series is delivered without the emotional context of the story, it's suddenly very silly and emo.

Edward is studying. Alphonse is sitting, trying to move as little as possible.

God bless you, Maes Hughes, the best part of the movie.

Seriously, he's mostly on point. Everyone else can go to hell.

Ah yes, Laboratory #5, a totally safe place for Winry to be. Man, it was such a cool place in the real story. Here? Just an empty building. Then again, we can't figure out how to animate one armor, how would we do three?

Oh no, the brothers are fighting for no reason. If only there was emotional weight.

"It hurts to see you hurt." Bitch, it hurts to hear you speak.

Yeah, where's East City on that map, Hughes? Is it two feet away from Leore? No?

Remember when Envy transforms into Hughes' wife before killing him and how that was real imactful? They set that up by having him drop the photo, but then Envy turns into MUSTANG.

Tucker lives. It was stupid when the '03 series did it and it's stupid now.

Envy looks like he styled his hair with crude oil.

This movie's so LOOOOOOOOONG.

The shadow of Gluttony eating people looked good. The actual CGI... is grossly unfinished.

Shou Tucker tries and fails to be the main villain. It's almost cute.

Oh god. The cyclopse dolls animate like Going To The Store. This just looks silly.

Alphonse: I can't move my body. Animators: Oh. How convenient.

Oh yeah. Riza Hawkeye exists.

Aw, now that the movie's over they're trying to wring emotions out of every person's single character trait.

A bright light started shining on the cast and I prayed they were about to get hit by a train. Nope. It was the sun, rising on a new day.

In short: It sucks.

#fma #bad movie reviews #fullmetal alchemist #live action

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hypnoticwinter · 4 years

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Down the Rabbit Hole part 26

It turns out, however, that I didn’t need to. As I cower and make a half-hearted, dog-tired attempt to throw myself to the side, the – well, the bird, I guess, whatever the hell it is – swoops just next to me, close enough to feel a better of greasy wings against my back, knocking me to the ground with one powerful downswing, and then it juts its claws forward and digs them into Marcus. He shrieks; his gun clatters squelchily to the gnarled floor and he flails in the thing’s grip; it’s holding him by the shoulder and by the hip, and for a moment, just a singular moment, it glares at us balefully, its squat, recessed head and luminous eyes swiveling over us, before it adjusts its grip on Marcus briefly and then pushes itself powerfully into the air again, winging into the darkness. Marcus’s screams recede quickly, and I am left open-mouthed on the ground, heart pounding, my entire body shaking as I come hesitantly off the adrenaline. Erica is trying to get a bead on the thing with her revolver but her hand is too unsteady, and I reach out for her and cry out for her not to shoot, and she glances down at me quickly. Her eyes are wide and panicked and I realize that this is the first time I’ve seen her lose her cool. Even in the hotel room she was completely locked down.

“Erica,” I say urgently, “if you shoot that gun everything down here is going to know exactly where we are.”

I give the murky ceiling a glance filled with trepidation then get to my feet slowly. My foot nudges against something – Marcus’ gun. I look down at it and then up at Erica; she raises the revolver again and points it at me.

“I’m just going to pick it up,” I tell her.

“Don’t.”

“Erica, I am not going around unarmed down here. You can either let me pick the gun up or we can just shoot each other right now and get it over with. What’s it going to be?”

A nice speech, I guess. Maybe it’d have more impact if I had more than about an ounce of energy to deliver it with. Whatever rest I’d managed to get has been depleted by now and my legs and arms and back are aching as before. I need to get out of this goddam place, I think to myself, but even my thoughts don’t have any energy to them, everything flits around very enervated and airy.

Erica is still staring at me and I bend down, very slowly, and pick the gun up. I hold it between thumb and forefinger, keeping my eyes locked on her, and then stick it slowly into the front pocket on the suit. “Alright?” I ask, and she swallows, then nods.

“Marcus,” she starts, and I look up again, shake my head.

“He’s gone,” I tell her. Stating the obvious.

“I didn’t think he’d –“ she starts, and then she cuts herself off. She wipes at her eyes hurriedly and then pulls out the PDA again, points down the slope. “That way,” she tells me, and I nod.

The way down becomes gradually easier, the slope levelling out into a long rough bumpy undergrowth of muck and slime. Mushrooms bud down here, great towering broad-capped things the size of small trees, and I feel a little safer, at least, knowing that any of the birds that might be circling above, glaring down and looking for prey, probably won’t be able to see us beneath their wide fleshy brims. They grow thick, too, leaving us to pick and push our way through them, struggling against their elastic, fibrous meat. Paths trail here and there but they are meandering and circuitous and dirty, piled with organic detritus – pieces of mushroom, guano from the birds above, foamy congealed blood from where sores in the Pit’s skin have rubbed open. The air is thick and sour and revolting and I can see Erica taking shallow breaths through her mouth. She wipes her eyes frequently but I can’t tell if it’s because they’re stinging or because she is mourning Marcus. After maybe fifteen minutes of pushing through mushroom stalks in silence I reach out for her and catch her by the hand lightly, and then flinch as she whips around, the pistol coming up.

“Relax,” I tell her quickly, showing her my empty hands, “it’s just me.”

“What is it?”

“I, um,” I start, wondering immediately why I’m bothering, “I just wanted to say sorry. For Marcus.”

She stares at me for a moment longer before she nods rather stiffly. “Thanks,” she says. The silence stretches onward until I look away.

“If you want to talk about it…”

Erica stays silent for about five minutes, and I assume that that is her way of turning down my offer. I don’t know why I even bothered, really, especially for her – why try and comfort the person holding you hostage? Stupid, Roan.

Then Erica turns and sags against a broad mushroom stalk and gives me a dark, hopeless glower. “Marcus was one of the first people who joined the little group I run back in town,” she says. I squat down on my haunches, shut my eyes and then unlock whatever lingering bone of resignation is running cordlike through my conscience and then lean back into the muck until I’m half-supine, propped against a stalk of my own. I can feel the fingerlength-deep layer squish and shift beneath my ass in a decidedly unpleasant way but the relief of not having to be on my feet any longer wins out in the end.

“The cult,” I nod, cracking an eye open to watch her. I see a spasm of anger flit across her face.

“It isn’t a cult,” she snaps, and then I see her relax and let it go. “It isn’t a cult,” she repeats, more calmly. “It was never a cult, we don’t fucking worship the Pit. It was just about – about having something there that was bigger than yourself. A frame of reference. You wouldn’t understand.”

I roll my eyes at her but she isn’t looking. My eyes hurt, rolling upwards like that. Closing them doesn’t help much. “Why’d you bring him down here?” I ask.

“I needed someone to help me. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get the crystal by myself, I’d need backup of some kind at least. Of all of us I trusted Marcus the most, and I figured he was the most capable outdoorsman. The others, well, there aren’t a ton of them, and most of them have more on their plate. Marcus is – was,” she corrects, her voice growing raw, “like me, he didn’t have many attachments, didn’t have a ton to tie him down.”

Oh. That would do it.

“I’m – sorry,” I say, surprising myself with the amount of delicacy I’m able to muster. “I know it can be hard to lose someone you love, it can…”

I let myself trail off. Erica’s eyes have grown harder. “We weren’t lovers,” she tells me. “I felt…responsible for him,” she says. She pulls out a battered pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I feel myself practically salivating for one, despite my best efforts. Erica notices and tosses the pack to me, and I murmur my thanks and let her light it for me. I cough a little at first but then it comes back to me and I really do feel better. This and some more coffee, maybe…

Erica shakes her head. “Goddam it,” she mutters quietly, in a way I recognize so deeply I can feel it in my bones, and for a moment, just a moment, I’m able to feel sorry for her. Then I remember that she shot Elena and I can go back to hating her.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I try not to think about what Marcus must have felt, feeling those foot-long talons sinking into him, probably dying from the instant they had gone in. It would have crippled him, that one in the shoulder, he would never have been able to use it effectively again without a lot of surgery. I wince to myself, thinking about it. And then the other one in the gut – it must have been horrible. A horrible feeling, knowing that something like that is about to do something to you that you can’t stop, can’t fight. It makes me shudder just to imagine it.

I look around warily; so far we haven’t seen any of those massive pale lizards but I can’t imagine they’d be any less aggressive than the birds. They have to eat something, after all, and if they’re that huge they have to eat a lot of something.

“Tell me the truth,” Erica says. “Are you working for the Company?”

I blow out a big sigh and open my eyes, stare at her. “You really think I am?”

“Is it the FBI, then? What is it?”

“I’m just somebody who was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” I tell her. “I’m just down here to take photos.”

“Makado wouldn’t have sent you down here for that,” Erica says. She sounds very confident. “There’s some angle she’s working, there’s some reason she’s got you down here. What are you –“

“How well do you know Makado?”

Erica shrugs. “Well enough, I guess.”

“What’s her middle name?”

“Not that well.”

I toss the cigarette on the ground. “If I’m here as part of her plan, it’s as a pawn. That’s all.”

“How reassuring,” Erica says dryly. “What about that blonde commando friend of yours, what’s the deal with you and her?”

“I thought it was obvious,” I murmur, and Erica laughs.

“Is that your partner?”

“Um. Well, I guess that’s one way to describe –“

“You know, your secret FBI partner.”

“Will you just let the whole FBI thing go?” I growl. “Fuckin’ Alex-Jones-ass –“

“I know the FBI is in town,” Erica says. “I think they’re investigating Makado. Or something she had to do with.”

I stop, look at Erica. She doesn’t appear to be joking, or leading me on. Her gaze is narrow but even. This is something she believes.

“This isn’t some, like, tinfoil hat shit, is it? Because if –“

“I don’t know what shit Peter talked about me while you two were shacked up –“

“We weren’t shacked up –“

“Whatever,” Erica says, getting to her feet. She rounds on me, points an accusing finger at my slumped form. “I have it on very good authority that the FBI is here in Gumption. Peter might have talked about his sources inside the Company but I have my own, ones he didn’t know about, and they all tell me that something big is about to go down. This crystal thing, this is Makado’s Hail Mary shot.”

“What even was your plan, Erica?” I ask. The cigarette got me a little perked up at least but I can feel the fatigue lurking behind my eyeballs whenever I’m not focusing. “You come down with two people and get in a shootout with ten? What was the idea?”

Erica makes a sour face at me. “For your information,” she says, “I have a little more than just one other person on my side. And the plan was, I paid someone in security a lot of money to plot the route you guys were taking, so that it would pass through a path that has a sphincter with an exposed nerve ending right along the route you were slated to take on the return trip. We were going to hide there, wait until everybody but the one with the crystal came by, and then tickle the nerve and trap them on our side while we locked everyone else out. Then it’d have been easy to grab it.”

I frown. “Erica, how big do you think this crystal is?”

She gives me a nonplussed face. “Well, it’s –“ she starts, and then her eyes widen. I frown and then turn my head slowly, glance over at where her gaze seems to be going, and see the massive snub-nosed head of the pale, eyeless lizard that has pushed its way through the mushroom stalks and into our clearing flare its fist-sized nostrils and surge forward towards me.

I shriek and roll to the side, scrambling away from it through the muck, and to my immense surprise the lizard freezes and then takes a hesitant step backwards. It opens its mouth and a broad flat tongue flutters outward briefly. Its teeth are widely spaced, flat little enameled pegs like those of an elephant or hippopotamus. Herbivore teeth.

Wait a minute.

I look at the lizard, watch it closely. I open my mouth again, make a short hissing sound, the same kind I might make if I were trying to get a cat to go away from me, and it freezes again, mid-step, retreating backward. It has a narrow, shovel-like head, like one of those weird salamander-like lizards that live in pools in caves and have grown blind and pale and fat down there in the darkness. I don’t recall what they’re called.

“Erica,” I whisper, glancing back at her. She’s gotten to her feet, gotten her hand halfway to her holster. Her eyes flick down to mine. “They’re fucking herbivores,” I tell her. She looks at me like I’m crazy.

And then the lizard bulls its way further into the thicket and fixes its jaws around a particularly thick and succulent-looking mushroom stalk and bites it hard enough to snap it nearly in half. A froth of syrupy white sap or dew spreads over its thin lips as it eats, and then when it’s done it trundles off into the murk, leaving a trail of snapped stalks and giant flattened footprints.

“Well,” I say, getting to my feet. “Maybe not herbivores. Fungivores? Is that a word? Whoa –“

I break off. I feel utterly strange for a moment, like I’ve caught a bad headrush, but it fades after a moment.

“You alright?” she asks. I wait for a moment, probing the inside of my head like a sore spot in my mouth, but I nod.

“Yeah. I don’t think these spores are doing me many favors,” I say, rubbing my fingers together; everything down here has a fine layer of them, like a greyscaled snow, a light misting of it everywhere. It makes me a little nervous but I don’t see any way to avoid it, any way to protect myself. We’d left my helmet back in Oyster’s Shame, Erica had made me leave it so I couldn’t be tracked.

“Better hurry, then,” Erica suggests, and I nod, and then we push onwards.

It’s hard work, but we get into the groove of it eventually; it’d be easier with a machete or something, but even without it the mushrooms aren’t as bad as trees or saplings or even the kind of jungle undergrowth and brush machetes are intended for. The mushrooms are soft and pliable, at least the young ones are; you can push them aside and the only thing you have to look out for is making sure that you keep a grip on them so they don’t spring back and whack you in the face. It’s easier with two people, and as Erica and I coordinate we begin to pick up the pace, at least until we get deeper into the – let’s call it the Fungal Jungle. It’s a stupid name but it’ll do. There, though, in the depths, the mushrooms are far too large to deal with in the same manner, but they’re spaced further apart, the vast trunks hardening and crusting and thickening so that you’d need a chainsaw to make space and fit between them with any degree of comfort. We end up forced onto the beaten paths and game trails that dot here and there between the stalks. There must be something here other than the lizards – hell, there must be an entire ecosystem down here, an entire food chain with the birds perched right at the top. The lizards must be like water buffalo or something, only maybe less aggressive, more cautious; that one we’d ran into earlier certainly seemed more inclined to flee than fight, even though it knew we were there. Or perhaps the only predators it has are the birds, maybe whatever other four-legged freaks there are down here only prey on each other and not the lizards.

Olms, that’s what they’re called. Except olms have only got two legs, I think, and they’re aquatic. Maybe they’re related? Distantly so?

My mind’s wandering. I let it to keep the tedium and physicality from sinking into me, soaking into my bones. As long as I can keep daydreaming about something cerebral I can stay sane. On alternating occasions I think having to think is the worst and the best thing about life.

We take breaks, we take frequent swigs from our dwindling supply of water, and I become more and more convinced that I’m never going to make it out of here, that I’m going to die to something really fucking stupid and I’m going to end up as a skull stripped bare along with a couple of other cracked bones in an overgrown owl pellet somewhere up in the canopy, just like Marcus, just like Erica. I ask her more questions about her plan, about the FBI, about anything I can think of to try and divine whether or not she’s a lunatic, but she either refuses to answer me or gives me responses that are infuriatingly sane and reasonable. They were going to strip the tracker from the crystal – easily enough, apparently, it comes with a quick-release – and then take the same way out as they went in and then fade, take the crystal somewhere far away and hide it so that the goddam gummint couldn’t take it and break it and make things worse everywhere for everybody. Of course they could have gotten away with it, she assures me, the Company’s funding is so lax that they’d never dare mention that they let one of the crystals get away, much less by a redneck clandestine operation like that.

I want to cry. I want to talk to Elena, I want to hold her. I hope very fervently that she’s okay, that she’s making it out, that everything is going to be okay for her. I maintain a faint hope that at some point the cavalry will come charging in with guns blazing but the more I listen to Erica talk with a faint derision about the absolute state of the Company right now, the more I doubt it. They won’t waste time or money on me, just mark me down for missing, presumed deceased, and forget about me. The only person I can rely on is me.

Can I do it? I muse ponderously, in between shallow breaths, calculate my odds and fudge in my favor as much as I can. I’ve got a stitch in my side and sometimes I put my hands wrong and Erica has to wait for me to reposition my grip to the side of a fungal thicket so she can pass through. She bears it with patience; she’s tired too, I can tell. But the PDA tells us the crystal is close.

The Leechman will be there, I tell her, and Erica shakes her head, stays silent. I can tell what she thinks of the Leechman; she doesn’t believe me. But when I had said it earlier she had reacted differently, she’d gotten a little spooked – she knows of the Leechman, at least, that’s for sure, but she’s convinced herself I’m mistaken. How could I be right? The Leechman isn’t real, doesn’t exist, it’s a fairy tale.

And then, when we push past the next line of mushrooms and out into an unexpected clearing, we find the Leechman in the flesh, twelve feet tall and just as wide, carrying the crystal like an awkwardly-shaped package beneath its arm. It stomps along, a faint glutinous slopping noise coming accompanied by the crushing thuds of its writhing feet. I look over at Erica, feeling faintly triumphant, and see her staring, open-mouthed, not so much at the Leechman, but at the trunk-sized, five-hundred-pound crystal it’s lugging. She shuts her mouth eventually and looks over at me. “I guess I see why you kept asking how big I thought it was,” she says, and I nod.

“Well, you did keep saying you had a plan,” I point out, and she squats and buries her face in her hands.

“Fuck,” she groans.

Out there across the clearing I hear a high whooping shriek and watch as one of the birds stoops, wings folded, at the Leechman, which seems to raise its abraded, conical head and regard the thing diving at it, and then it drops the crystal and reaches up and plucks the bird from the sky. “Holy shit,” I murmur, and Erica sits up and comes to stand next to me.

We watch in silence as the Leechman pins the struggling bird down on the floor and then vomits a stream of leeches into the bird’s clacking beak. I swear I can see the bird bloat a little just from the sheer volume streaming into it. It goes slack finally and the Leechman lets it go and turns and picks up its crystal and then just walks away into the forest. The glossy shine of the leeches disappears and then all I can see of it is a trail of mushrooms being pushed aside and snapped like candlesticks, and then it is gone entirely. The bird, meanwhile, has staggered to its feet and after a moment of what I can only describe as confusion, spread its wings and fluttered shakily into the air.

I look over at Erica and again feel a pang of sympathy for the woman. I don’t know where it comes from or what it’s doing inside of me but I feel it anyway, and I don’t want to. I heave out a huge sigh and nudge her; she looks up at me with a glum face. “Why don’t we just go?” I ask her. “I know it isn’t what you wanted but that thing is probably going to do a good job of keeping the crystal out of the Company’s hands as well.”

She nods after a moment. “I just don’t like thinking that Marcus died for nothing.”

I don’t have anything to comfort her with, so I stay silent. After a moment I can see resolution in her face. She gets up and stretches and then points. “It’ll be useless trying to do more today. Why don’t we see if that station over there is still liveable? We can stay there tonight and make a fresh start tomorrow.”

I stare at her for a moment, trying to register the combination of words in my brain, before I turn and follow her outstretched hand and see, off on the other side of the clearing, squatting evilly like a swollen tick, an overgrown and abandoned ranger station, clearly of an older model than the similar one up in Oyster’s Shame, but even so a mark of human habitation, a mark that someone somewhere was insane enough to build down here. That, I think, is what I found most disconcerting about the entire place – that lone ranger station, the one singular piece of evidence that someone had come before…

“Wait,” I mutter, as Erica fumbles with her pack. She glances up at me, starts to ask what the matter is, and then she sees what I’m looking at and quiets as well.

There is a flickering orange glow of firelight from one of the station’s shattered windows, and as we watch a shadow, man-sized and shaped, passes heavily along the far wall and then vanishes. Erica and I stare at each other as the significance of what we’ve just seen sinks in, and then she has drawn her revolver and is stomping off towards the station without even bothering to wait for me.

* * *

We enter the station as cautiously as we can, the muzzle of Erica’s revolver advancing ahead of her as she leans around corners, checks all the darkened spots. The station is a mess – it’s clearly been abandoned for a long time. Everywhere there are tiny stalks of growing mushrooms, and things have been living and shitting and dying in here for quite a while. The fire is just in the other room; I can hear it crackling. Erica and I glance at each other and then she nods and we burst around the corner. There’s someone there in an orange suit just like mine, his back to us, but after a moment, just from his frame, from the way he holds himself, I recognize him, and it’s like lightning has struck me.

“Oh my god,” I blurt. “Peter! You’re alright!”

Peter’s head lifts and he drops the can of food he had been holding to the floor. We must have startled him. “Peter!” I say again. I’ve almost reached him by now; I didn’t even realize I had gone to him, I hadn’t even thought about it. I am so relieved I could almost cry. Peter’s alive! Peter is –

Peter turns then and what is staring at me from behind his one remaining eye is nowhere close to being Peter. I can feel my gorge rise as I stare and I hear Erica jump, hear the high, throaty beginnings of a woman’s scream as she comprehends what we’re looking at.

The Leechman has gotten Peter. About half of his head is left, and it lolls at a sickly angle; his neck is broken, clearly. Sprouting from the right side of his body like a bouquet of flowers, tucked awkwardly into the shoulder of the suit, wriggling slowly over each other like a mess of eels, are leeches, thousands and thousands of them, tiny ones, large ones, ones like snakes, ones ribbed and venous and pale and dark. I can feel myself screaming as he reaches out for me, his eye dark, dull, glazed, the leeches sprouting from his neck wriggling in anticipation, and then he has bowled into me, knocked me over onto my back, and then he is on top of me trying to force his fingers into my mouth; they taste like dirt and mold and decay and I am going to vomit –

The revolver thunders one, two, three times, and I feel him shudder with the impacts, and though they knock him around a little he is clearly far beyond the point of being able to be put down by bullets. That hole in his neck yawns wider and leeches start to pour onto me and I scream, then snap my mouth shut, close my eyes. They press against me, bite at me, and I scrape desperately at my face, trying to clear it. Their teeth are sharp and they bite in and hang on for dear life. I am making horrible strangled screams through my gritted teeth because I know they want to get inside my mouth and do – and do whatever it is they do, and I realize that some unhinged part of me is trying to beg Peter to stop, trying to do anything to get him to stop –

I hear glass shattering from the left and a strange high-pitched shrieking sound, and something thuds into Peter very fast, and it is warm, insanely warm, very near to me. I still have my eyes shut, I can’t see. He is screeching, a long, drawn-out, hissing thing, and he gets to his feet, I can feel him get off of me. I sit up and claw the leeches away, crush them between my gore-slick fingers, toss their deflated bodies aside, and then I can finally see – Peter has gotten lit on fire somehow. He is staggering around the room, a bowlegged shuffling gate probably as near a sprint as he can get, slamming into the walls. He looks as though he’s headed for Erica and she, panicking, tosses the revolver at him – it bonks into his head and snaps it back, and he changes his course, and finally trips over the makeshift firepit he – it – had made in the center of the room. He collapses over the smouldering blaze, and then writhes until the movement and that horrible noise finally stops.

There is a crunch of broken glass off to the right and I look over and nearly give myself whiplash with the doubletake – Klaus, of all people, is clambering in through the window, taking care not to cut himself. He has a bright red flaregun in his hand and I realize what must have happened. “Oh, thank god,” I blurt, and Klaus’s eyes rest on mine for a moment, but he doesn’t smile, doesn’t say anything to reassure me. I start to frown, start to ask what the matter is, but Erica is stepping out, a wide smile on her face. “Klaus,” she says, “you got here right in the nick of time.”

Klaus crouches and picks up the revolver, examines it casually. “This is yours?” he asks, glancing up at Erica. “Hi Roan,” he adds, finally, but something about this is still odd, there’s something strange. I look over at Erica.

“Do you two…know each other?”

Klaus laughs, but it’s rather mirthless. Erica offers me a hand and I take it shakily, let her haul me to my feet. She gives me a shaky grin. “I told you I had sources,” she says.

Erica reaches out for the revolver and Klaus holds it up. It looks as though he’s aiming it at her and for a moment I see a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, but it passes quickly, and she takes a step closer to him. “Klaus,” she starts, “give me the –“

He shoots her. I see the slug tear a chunk from her throat and she spins and flops to the floor. I scream, and some force of instinct made me hunker, my hands up to cover my face. I take them down, start to straighten, and then scream again as I see Klaus aim the revolver at me next. I cower there, waiting for it, before I hear the snap of a firing pin on a spent cartridge. I look up and see Klaus staring down at the revolver, a faint curl of disgust on his lips, before he tosses the gun aside. It clunks to the floor next to Erica and she shifts faintly, moaning. Her voice is thick and awful and terrified.

I get to my feet shakily. “It was you,” I say, staring at Klaus. It’s all coming together, it’s all starting to make sense. I can hear Erica choking quietly at my feet and I step around her, move closer to him. His eyes are dark and calm. The pit of my stomach is crawling and I recognize it as the same itchy feeling of anticipation that I used to feel back in Oklahoma whenever I stepped into the dojo for sparring day, two hours every Thursday. “It was you the whole time,” I tell him. “Wasn’t it? You lured her down here, fed her false information, made her think the crystal was something easily portable, told her that bullshit about a sphincter with an exposed nerve.”

Klaus spreads his hands modestly. I pull Marcus’s gun out, train it on him. His eyes flicker down, then back up again. He’s ice-cold, doesn’t even flinch. “You’re going to shoot me?” he asks.

“Erica said the FBI were in town, investigating Makado,” I tell him. “Are you with them?”

He nods after a moment. “She’s going down,” he tells me. “Hard. They finally got enough to nail her with. Letting people into the Pit, working with Peter,” he nods to the charred corpse over to the left. “Shit, I don’t know the full list of charges, I’ve been undercover here so long, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they could get the death penalty for her.”

I shake my head. “Fuck. Why did she send me down here, then? Why did she –“

“You’re an insurance policy,” he tells me, rolling his eyes like it’s obvious. “You’re somebody who’s got a strong sense of curiosity, a drive to figure out the truth. You hear what they’re going to slap her with, you’ll know it’s bull, you’ll try and get to the bottom of it. She figured we wouldn’t be able to get to you down here, but…” he grins. “She didn’t count on me.”

I swallow hard. “I’m a US citizen,” I remind him. “I’ve got rights.”

“You’re a statistic,” he corrects me gently. His hand whips out, smothering mine, and then he’s torn the pistol from my grasp. He laughs at me and then ejects the magazine, tosses it and the gun aside. It lands with a clunk near the fire.

I am, I notice, sweating. My eyes are very wide.

“You’re one of several hundred people who die every year trying to get in here,” he tells me. With exaggerated care, he takes the knife from his belt, holds it up to the light, knocks an invisible speck of dirt from its side. “Mostly indigents,” he says, taking a step towards me. I take a corresponding step backwards. “Nobody anyone would take any notice of.”

“Stop,” I tell him.

“Or what?”

Then he lunges and I am fighting for my life.

Ali told us back at the dojo once that there are no winners in a knife fight. It is such an intimately dangerous kind of fight to have that it is nearly impossible to come away from one without being hurt one way or another – the difference will be whether you’re the one who ends up in the hospital or the one who ends up in the morgue.

But if you don’t have a knife…

If you’re in a real fight, one where you need to murder the fuck out of someone with extreme prejudice before he succeeds in doing the same to you, blunt force trauma isn’t the way to go unless you can bring a lot of it to bear in a short period of time. But I have nothing, I haven’t got a brick to slam on his head, I haven’t got anything, just my fists, while he has a wickedly sharp eight-inch bowie, and if he sticks that in me, one way or another it’s game over.

Erica has died at some point; some detached portion of my brain heard her last rattling gurgle before she fell silent and took note of it, but I couldn’t say when – time has elasticized itself, stretched like taffy. I can feel my heartbeat like drums in my head, deafening, and all I can see is Klaus, his wiry frame enormous, slashing at me as I back off further and further. He’s cautious, he knows that I could still do some damage to him if we end up grappling, but he knows he has a massive advantage as well. Sooner or later I won’t be able to back up any further and then he’ll have me.

So I don’t wait. On the downswing I lunge after him and seize his wrist. He punches me in the face with his other hand and my head snaps to the side beneath his knuckles and stars burst in my eyes, but I cling to his wrist doggedly and then bring my leg up with as much force as I can muster and knee him in the balls. The air shoots out of him and he staggers but he won’t let go of the damn knife. We struggle for a moment longer before he kicks my feet out from under me and I land hard on my back. I take a few gasping breaths and try to scramble away. The gun is just there ahead of me, its polymer grip gleaming in the flickering firelight. I can see the yawning emptiness of the magazine well but even so I grab it and train it on Klaus. He has murder in his eyes. He points the knife at me.

“You stupid fucking bitch,” he says, his voice thick. “You don’t have any bullets - !”

I can see him swaying, a little like a tiger about to pounce, and then my finger finally curls inside of the trigger guard and squeezes the trigger, hoping against hope -

The roar of the pistol is like thunder, even if it’s just a little shitty nine-millimeter, and I scream with the surprise of it, with the shock of it, and then I remember – Marcus kept a round in the chamber. I had only noticed after – after Euler, and then I had completely fucking forgotten. When Klaus took it away from me he never racked the slide to clear it, he just ejected the magazine.

He’s choking on his own blood now, the knife forgotten. I shot him through the throat, just like he got Erica. He looks at me and tries to say something but just gurgles instead.

I leave him in there, leave all three of them in there, Erica and Peter and now Klaus, and sit down on the steps up to the ranger station. I leave the door open behind me in case I need to scramble back inside if a bird spots me. My cheek is still throbbing like hell and there is a mess of blood all down my front. Not all of it, I suspect, is mine. I look down at my hands and watch them shake, and then I make fists, squeeze them as hard as I can, until my nails are digging into my palms.

And then, amid the mushrooms and the lizards and the birds, who knows how many miles deep, sitting at the bottom of the rabbit hole and staring at the tiny pinprick of light above, I can think of nothing sane to do but weep.

END OF BOOK TWO

Continue with Part 27

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#mystery flesh pit #writing #writeblr #alt lit #disaster #mystery #Michael Crichton #caving #thriller

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zrtranscripts · 3 years

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Home Front, Mission 8: Peter’s Fitness Montage

Fitness, not fighting

PETER LYNNE: Hello, listeners. It's me again, poor old Peter, still stuck in a projection box at the Princess Louise Theater. And since you last heard from me, I have faced my greatest survival challenge yet. Oh um, speaking of, you're going to be facing a few challenges yourself soon, courtesy of yours truly. So um, why don't you start warming up now? A few stretches, running on the spot, whatever gets your juices flowing, as the bishop said to the personal trainer.

Um, yes. Anyway um, in case you've forgotten, the auditorium here is absolutely packed with zombies, but keeping a movie on the screen distracts them. So there I was, looking through the cinemas digital archives for something nice and long, and I found a playlist of every single Rocky movie for a Sly Stallone fan marathon. Except the playlist got stuck and I've been watching Rocky movies on a loop for eight days straight, listeners. I've managed to stop the playlist around the tenth run-through of Rocky III.

I fear I might have gone a bit peculiar. I spent the whole morning on comms to Janine waxing lyrical about Mr. T, but - but it has given me a great idea for a workout, and you'll never guess. It is boxing. Plenty of fisticuff-related entries on my list of Ministry exercises. First, though, a song that'll help you with your warm-up. I'm going to put on some music you can dance around to and really get your blood pumping, and if I am very lucky, maybe I'll finally get “Eye of the Tiger” out of my head.

PETER LYNNE: Welcome back, friends. Now I know we're all quite tired of being stuck indoors. Oh yes, although uh, Runner Five, if you're listening, I gather you've had a change of location recently. Locked down in a camping shop, Sam said. Could be worse. [laughs] I mean, you could be me. But let me tell you, my cinematic ordeal has given me the perfect lens for viewing this lockdown. See, we need to not think of it as being trapped, oh no. We can think of this as one extended indoor fitness montage. We are just in that part of the movie where we have to hunker down, crank the volume, and get our pulses racing!

So let's keep our warm-up going with some more push-ups, because if they worked for Rocky, they're gonna work for us. [paper rustles] Right, here is our official technique courtesy of Ministry guidelines. First, I want you to get down on all fours with your arms just over shoulder-width apart, then straighten out your body, supporting yourself on your hands and also your toes. Now lower yourself to the floor and push yourself back up again. Now if that feels too difficult, that's fine. Don't be afraid to support yourself on your knees and lower legs instead of your tiptoes. We are going to try one whole minute of push-ups or as many as you can manage. And go!

Excellent. Don't get carried away. Tortoise and the hare, all of that. 15 seconds down. Don't rush. Take your time with each push-up. That's beautiful. Exactly what we want, I assume. Halfway there. Feel the burn, as the old cliche goes. Never quite understood what that was supposed to mean. Uh, 15 seconds left. Oh, you can taste the finish line now! And five, four, three, two, one, and rest. Done.

All right, well, you should be all warmed up. I'm actually going to do a few push-ups myself in the next music break and you know, feel free to rest or you can keep going along with me. Frankly, I'm finding this music by going through movie credits and I want to be distracted when Cats III comes up next. So stay put, everyone. Your pal Peter will be back after this.

PETER LYNNE: Well, my friends, I have a shameful confession. I'm actually starting to miss the Rocky movies. Even the really bad ones, which is something of a tautology, but it just goes to show a person can get used to anything. I mean, Janine told me to emphasize our goal today is fitness, not fighting. Abel runners always do their damnedest to avoid conflict, and rightly so. If you do end up in a scrap, you need to be able to dodge as well as hit, so before we get to the hitting, you are going to practice a move called the side-to-side hop. Not a classic dance move, but it'll help you hone your evasive reflexes.

So to do this, we start by balancing on one foot with your knees and your arms bent. Then you hop to the side like you're jumping over an imaginary line that's between your legs, landing on the ball of the opposite foot. So try that for me. And absolutely fair, if you've got any knee problems or if that's painful, you can just do a grapevine or sidestep instead, totally fine. Okay, now we just keep hopping back and forth across that line, but as fast as you can. See if you can keep that up for a solid 45 seconds. I promise you will find that deceptively challenging.

And we are going to start now. There we go, but don't get carried away. You've set yourself a high bar. 15 seconds down, 30 left to go. Probably starting to feel what I meant now. 30 seconds down. You can pretend that you're dodging punches or - or lunging zombies. There's - there's one on the left. There's one right. Duck, duck, move! And five, four, three, two, one, and stop hopping.

Brilliant work! Right, so that's got our fancy footwork in the bag, and that means we can [metallic bang] Um... Did you... did you hear that? Uh, well no. No, you didn't. And well, of course, no, me neither. Um... It's gone. That's... Okay. I'm going to put some music on so that we can all pretend that that just didn't happen. Uh, you all take a break and relax or um, you know, bust out your best dance moves. Oh, but uh, seriously though, uh, don't overdo it. Because when we get back, it's going to be time to, uh, really get the workout going. Okay? All right.

PETER LYNNE: Okay. Well, that's quite enough of that one. Yeah, that - that song always reminds me of a bad breakup. I can't actually remember which. [metallic bang] It's back, and that was - that was definitely louder that time. See, um, I've been hearing some not really great things in this booth, listeners. Sort of... shuffling from behind the walls. You know, I think... something might be crawling around in the, uh, ventilation system. But uh, I mean... I mean, there's definitely not going to be enough room in the ducts for-for zombie. That would be... I mean, unless it was just a half of a zom. Oh God, what if it was just like that? Just like the front half, just like some sort of fleshy gingerbread man just like rolling itself down there, looking for a way out?

Um... yes. Okay, I'm, I am quite scared, actually. Uh, there's nowhere to run in this booth, but we still have exercises like this, which I find are a fantastic distraction. You see, I can immediately pretend that I am a seven foot tall beefcake training to take on whatever that is. Good God, that sounds pathetic when I say it out loud.

Okay, we're gonna have to move on. Um, punches, ladies and gentlemen. [paper rustles] First, you're going to need to adopt a Ministry-approved fighting stance. Hold your fists up in front of you. You have to have your dominant hand held back, and that's protecting your face, and the other hand is extended in order to attack. So plant your feet diagonally, shoulder-width apart, with your knees just slightly bent. Your dominant foot goes to the back. Right, we're going to start with the basic jab. You punch out with your lead hand, rotating your arm so your knuckles end up facing up and your shoulder moves forward. So we're going to do one minute of jabs. If you'd like some variety, feel free to alternate your stance from time to time and then you end up leading with the other arm.

Ready, set, go! There we are, perfect! More aggression, get the anger out. 15 seconds down. You can try imagining a bullseye. Aim right for the center of the target. You could even imagine an actual bull's eye and aim right for the middle of its face. Great. Halfway down, just keep on beating that bull in the face. I don't know what it did to you. I like to imagine that it's taunting me. I don't know what sort of names it's come up with, but they were hurtful and I think it mentioned my mother. 15 seconds left. We're so near the end now, we're gonna get that bull. I'm gonna move away from the bull. You can imagine whatever you like. Jab! Jab! Five, four, three, two, and we're done.

Good, very good. It's important, though, with zoms of course, punching has to be your last resort. But in the meantime, as a way to get your frustrations out, it's not a bad go-to, eh? I'm gonna do a bit more of it myself in this next break and uh, if you guys want to keep jabbing alongside me, well, all things considered, wouldn't really mind the company.

PETER LYNNE: Right there, kiddos, time to get comfortable. Here's a genuine piece of advice. Now like I said, punching zombies has to be your last resort. I have seen more than a few tough morons get infected themselves from undead blood in their knuckles. All men, by the way. Shock, horror, I know. So if you do ever find yourself boxing a gray, remember, if you don't have gloves - and that's what you want - at least wrap your hands in cloth or gauze. Your aim is only to knock them down or away so that you can run.

So to that end, we are now going to try some punches with a bit more juice behind them than the jab. These are our hooks and uppercuts. So back in your boxing stance, one arm back, one arm forward. So the uppercut, you keep your feet grounded, bend your knees and rotate your body with the direction of your lead arm. So you're pushing off of your lead calf and punching upwards with the lead arm, releasing your rear heel and feel that rotate outwards as you go. So try that all together. It should feel like you've got the power coming through in that punch. Great, okay.

So now the hook. Back to the stance. Now you shift your weight to your lead foot whilst swinging your lead fist in an inward horizontal arc and moving your shoulder forwards. So try that. You can imagine just knocking a zombie's head off with this one, right off of his shoulders. Great, okay. Now we are going to try a full minute of mixed jabs, hooks, and uppercuts. Dealer's choice, so go wild, switch them up, swap stances occasionally. Get ready, and go!

Excellent, we're off to a flying start. Look at you, you scrappy little thing. 15 seconds down. Imagine you're fighting a big scary zombie version of Ivan Drago. You know, that's the um, the-the villain from-from Rocky IV. Why am I telling you? You know this. Keep going. Yes, lay into him! One, two. More! Halfway there. You've got him on the ropes. And of course, he's gonna get stronger and come back at you, and it'll look like you're down. but you're not down, you're back up! And it's 15 seconds. He's now almost down! Yes, you've got the upper hand now. Finish it off! Five, four, three, two... Oh, and it's a knockout! Surely not! They've won the belt and the title! Oh, good job, people.

Yes. Now I might have gotten a bit carried... [metallic bang] Okay, that one was... that was loud. See, there's um... so there's this air vent right by the projector and I can see a shadow moving under the grill. See, the reason I worry is that there's a, uh, there's this broken open vent in the toilet and so if that thing comes through that whilst I'm sleeping... Okay. Listen up, people. I am going to go and confront the monster. Fear not for old Peter. I am not totally unarmed. I have this mop. Perfect. I'm going to put on some music first. You can rest or... you know what? Actually, throw a few more punches in the break if you feel up to it. Can't hurt to know you champs are fighting alongside me, eh? [laughs] Okay, on three then, I suppose. One, two, three, and off we go!

PETER LYNNE: Well um, hello again, everyone. So that one did not turn out exactly as I expected. Turns out wasn't a zombie at all. That was actually just a scrawny little fox, and it must have come in through the window, sniffing after... I mean, I guess rotting flesh? I don't know why it would want that. But got itself lost and just came shooting out like a bullet when I opened the vent in here. It's just, uh, it's actually just sitting in the corner now. It looks friendly enough. [fox screeches] Maybe not. Right. Okay. That's your side of the room now. Completely understood. I've probably got some food around here somewhere, actually.

Tell you what. Um, I actually do need to thank you, listeners. Might sound silly, but without you, I actually might not have worked up the courage to open the vent. That would have meant this little fellow would have starved to death instead of coming out to occupy half of my room. Hey, hello. Yes, that's you. Catch this. Here we go. [laughs] Somebody's a fan of old, old cinema hot dogs. That makes two of us. Please don't tell anyone.

All right, listeners, I'm going to go and find more scraps to feed to my new roommate here, and it really is sometimes better to make friends than fight, especially when your rival's got those big teeth. Don't worry, I'll be back very soon. And in the meantime, stay safe out there, champs. You know, I'll be rooting for you. Oh, and uh, if anyone knows how to um, delete a movie playlist, could you try and get in touch somehow? Honestly, it is amazing the things you miss when they're gone.

#zombies run #zr home front #zrhf8 #peter's fitness montage #zr transcript

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finsterhund · 3 years

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Hey I fucking broke my ankle lmao

“I could really use a break right now” I say as I struggle with my dog having terminal cancer, my roommate pushing my limits, my money being nonexistent, and barely getting one meal a day.

A finger on the monkey’s paw that is me ever wanting anything in life curls again. Must have been a pretty fucked up monkey because there’s a lot of fingers on this thing by now.

So yeah, life thought I wasn’t going through enough already so it added broken fucking ankle to the list of Finsterhund suffering hours.

“I wish I wasn’t broke” is another good one. “here have a different broke then lol. go fuck yourself you rotting corpse of a victorian boy piece of shit”

here’s the goods. Got ex roommate to take photo of the screen. Doctor did not let me email the high res version to myself.

I did not go “waaaiii” on the way down, unfortunately. Life just isn’t like a video game. Probably didn’t look funny either. In reality I am a silent faller/injurer/whatever. Survival instincts of child abuse survivor I land and stay there as quiet as possible. I “grew out of” signals for help before teenage years. Which is a blessing in disguise because I don’t like people looking at me when I am hurt. it’s the “baby deer waiting for mom to come back instinct” I hide from predators.

My brain didn’t really process it when it happened. I just fell and heard a SNAP. If I had watched a video of it happening to someone else I would have found it gross but fortunately my brain just let me ignore it.

I was mostly immediately scared that I had somehow damaged the FIFTY DOLLAR dog calming aid that I got for Cazza in the pet store. I needed something like it for her and just seeing it in person and not having to pay 30 dollar shipping I was like “yeah. getting it here” fortunately the only fragile part is a little plastic capsule that imitates a heartbeat, which was packaged inside the toy inside the box. I hope. I have not opened it.

But the reason I fell is because I was also carrying giant bag of dog food. You see my vet recommended I switch out her food in light of the potential heart disease link. So I got the biggest bag of the best chicken stuff they had. My roommate might try saying that it was because the bag was too heavy. It wasn’t. I could lift that shit just fine. Bag was impossible for my impaired depth perception cringe fail line of vision to see around. The same visual impairment that prevents me from being able to drive a car made me think that I could put my foot down on the curb of the sidewalk. Dumb ass thought I was stepping OVER the curb.

Fortunately the bag of dog food broke my fall. Otherwise I’d have probably smashed my nose and teeth on the pavement. I really hope the expensive puppy calming toy is unharmed :( I say as I have a fucking broken leg.

So yeah. If you’ve seen labyrinth where David Bowie playing Jareth the Goblin King walks over all those weird ass fucked up stairs and ledges that are all a manner of odd angles? Specifically where he just takes steps that are at an angle that you cannot actually walk? Yeah I fucked up Jareth platform stairs walked over the fucking curb and snapp my legs

yes, I said legs.

Only my left is technically broken. It’s a Webber A something or other. I have a sick as hell photo if you wanna see. It’s included in this post.

But my right foot also got fucking fucked up. That one it snapped a tendon or a ligament or whatever the fuck. Get this, it snapped off a small piece of the gottamn bone. It’s not a break but it’s like it came off like a splinter. I made a joke in the hospital about how it’s like when you throw a sticky hand at the wall and when you pull it back a piece of the paint comes off with it. That was really fucking funny but nobody laughed. My friend’s group chat thought it was funny though. I did not get a photo of that foot and the tiny cringe sticky hand paint sliver bone.

I am on pain meds better than my normal pain meds. I can barely feel the legs in bed now.

So back to the parking lot. I landed on the dog food bag. I am hoping the calmeroos puppy is not broken or damaged in any way, I heard the snap but my brain is not registering the snap. This hurts “like a normal fall” I think at first. It hurts a lot of course, but I have the pain tolerance of a truck (thanks for this one Will) and a “heartwarming” story from my youth is that my mom didn’t believe my arm was broken both times it happened because I wasn’t “in pain enough” so I’ve got the firsthand experience to back that up.

Yeah then I try to fucking move my goddamn legs. Left one, broken one, there’s noises. Like cracking pop sounds. And pain. God fuck. It feels like the foot is loose and it’s only connected by fleshy flesh and muscle and skin. Aka like how my dislocated shoulder (that my mom also dismissed because I didn’t scream enough... after the lifeguard had alreayd put it back in...) had felt when I was 12.

So I’m like “oh god oh fuck oh god oh fuck I can’t get up or move” yeah my first response was “how the fuck am I going to escape?” I attempted to better myself to get up but absolutely not. Right foot feels like when I roll the damn thing which happens a lot. That *WAS* my bad ankle. sidkfjsdkfjskdf not anymore!!!!!

So an important note is that I’m technically better about my severe agoraphobia that my roommate can let me go into a store by myself provided he’s no more than a couple stores away. So while I’m waiting for a predator to pick my weak ass off outside the petstore he’s in the dollar store next door where I was supposed to meet him after putting the dog food in the car. The car I am now sitting next to. I have no way to get his attention because my phone is dead and also in my bedroom because it’s useless when not plugged into the wall.

Luckily the people parked next to us come out the store and see Mr fuck leg the fucked leg boy sitting on his bag of dog food between the cars and bless this family they help me out. By trying to get roommate out of the dollar store. Which doesn’t work. So they get the dollar store manager. Who then gets roommate out of the store. I was probably sitting there for 10 minutes or so. They had kids so I’m really trying not to let them see how fucked up the rapidly growing ankle balloon is.

But yeah. Eventually roommate come out the dollar store. And get this, he does the same shit my mom did every time anything ever fucking happened to me and is all “okay if it were really broken you’d be screaming right now” as I’m finally able to prop myself up enough to get into the car. That fucking triggered me real bad and I had a breakdown in the car while he went back into the dollar store to continue shopping.

Then we went to get food.

Then we went to costco.

He said that he would take me home and then if it was “still bad tomorrow” he’d take me to the ER.

So he tries to help me out of the car to the house.

I cannot put weight on the right leg either. It is agony. He’s trying to support the bad leg but the other leg need support too. A weaker man would have screamed but I just dropped to the parking lot ground and cried.

Made an attempt to crawl to the house but the gravel on my knees was just too much on top of everything else.

So FINALLY the ER is back on the menu. Ex roommate comes out because I need someone to support each foot. And they take me to their car and they drive me to the ER and I’m trying to eat a baconator while my foot is reminding me that we should have stayed as tiktaalik. you know, not fucking biped I want semi aquatic too please please please youre nothing

The wheelchairs in the ER are designed to offer full body support but the damn things are so hard to maneuver around and cannot be user operated. So I was sitting there having to get pushed around feeling like a dumb fuck because I hate needing assistance to move I hate it I hate it I hate it. I kept reaching down expecting to find the wheel handles but they weren’t there.

ER was... fun. There was a cool cartoon I’ve never seen before “Craig of the Creek” playing on the TV. I really want to see more of it I really liked it. But a fucking anti vax guy (YEAH REALLY) was swearing and bitching because there were kids shows on the TV This show was the only comfort I fucking had. Craig was spoonfeeding me comfort with his little freeze to death without your winter clothes adventure (RIP to him but I’m different)

But yeah. Once being treated it was all really nice. My ability to make constant jokes about fucked up injury death and suffering is a really good stress relief. Shout out to the xray tech who totally understood I use dark humor to cope and in response to my joke about how if I was a horse they'd just shoot me that I would “make wonderful glue” the other people were also very kind but I kinda felt they were intimidated by how “jovial” I was about the whole thing. Like yeah. I’m “handling it well” because that’s my whole strategy. Inside I’m screaming “please not the plates please not the plates please not the plates” (I am scared of having metal plates and screws.) Fortunately the stupid little cringe bone broke just low enough on the bone that I don’t have to get the plates and screws. I was literally begging Spot and she answered.

In my moment of weakness I decided that the true nature of the “Spot Power” is that she makes it so that when I’m going through shit I’m always “being so brave about it”

I kept thinking about how Cazza thought I had abandoned her though and while roommate did give her her evening walkies she was stressed and puked on the walk. Which fucking ruined my life and I cried more hearing that than the fucking leg.

So yeah. In canada crutches and the foot boot actually cost money. I’m out like 100 dollars. Plus like 30 because roommate wanted gas. I’m just used to it by now. I definitely need to plug Cazza’s gofundme again now though. Have no clue how I’m even going to take her to her appointments. I am hesitant to hope that roommate will give her as good walks as she needs.

There were more tears over the fact that I was going to fail Cazza than that I actually broke my fucking ankle.

This shouldn’t be a shock. I knew that eventually my visual impairment and my physical disability were going to team up on me and fuck up my body even worse somehow. Always thought it was going to be stairs though. A small comfort is apparently the x ray department has had four other people come in about the exact same curb. Yeah I kid you not. The curb between the redacted dollar store and the redacted pet store confirmed for Heart of Darkness 2: Andy Ankle Adventure

They were supposed to give me more pain meds but I guess I didn’t pick them up or they forgot or something. My brain is fried so i have no idea at all.

Crutches are a massive learning curve for someone with depth issues and balance issues. I almost fell face first on the goddamn crutches several times. If I wasn’t broke and you know, if I couldn’t fucking not leg broken walk leg I would go to hardware store and make a wheeling seat thing like those scooters in gym class and then I’d have Cazza pull me on walks. That would work.

Big issue is in and out of our place is fucking stairs. Yeah. I crawled up them on hands and knees. No way in hell with my already fucking broken mobility could I go crutches up them. I have to hold onto railing or I fall down stairs so crawling it was.

I can technically take the boot off to sleep but the tightness makes it so much better so fuck that. Wish I had the rolling elementary school gym class scooter so I could drag myself around the house.

Cazza doted on me like nothing else. She tried to brace me going up the stairs but she’s not big enough for what I’d need with this fucking leg problem. She helped me change out of my clothes though. Even though she’ll never be certified she’s still my everything.

The she cuddled close to me until I had calmed down and now she’s fast asleep in her bed. I am so glad I ended up giving her her bath before going out.

I am going to attempt to make it to my bloodwork appointment tomorrow. I have rescheduled that due to chemo appointments too many times.

I can’t remember if I’m forgetting anything else. Honestly my roommate telling me the exact same shit my mom did just fucking hurt so bad. I think I know my own body better than you do. Like I’ve told him about how she didn’t believe me and I had to beg her to take me to the hospital and he ended up doing the exact same shit. All because I didn’t outwardly exhibit being in enough pain apparently.

I just hate how being disabled you always have to fucking prove you’re disabled. Like I was expected to somehow walk back to the house and up the stairs but when I got to go to the ER yeah fucking broken lol.

I just wish I had parents. I need taking care of. I always did and I never got it.

I’m scared for the future. I don’t know how I’m going to manage or how I’m going to provide for Cazza.

I wish breaking my ankle could have made Cazza’s cancer go away

#text post #negative #long post #cw: injury #broken bones #ask me to tag #cw: medical

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