#tw captured

[truths33k3r4]

CHAPTER 2 - The Weight of Silence

Time sludged past in a viscous heap as Raph sat there with his shivering twin, trying to guide Don through the panic overwhelming his body. As a way to ground his brother, Raphael wrapped one of his arms slowly over Don’s shell, and gently pulled his brother close.

Ever since returning home, things have been.. different. One emergency to the next was becoming far too normal in his family’s life.  Not even the warm comfort of being home could protect Raph and Don from their nightmares. 

I’m so done with this.

The jolted shivers of Don penetrated Raph’s body in crackling sparks. The fiery brother’s attempts to calm himself were slowly devoured by the growing shadow of vengeance and bitterness. He couldn’t do anything, just sit and wait, as his twin fought for control of his own dang body. All because.. 

..of what happened.

All because..

..of what he couldn’t stop.

Despite his attempts to fight back, the shadows of Raph’s past overtook him instantly.

.  .  .

Raphael didn’t know how long it had been since Specter had left his and Don’s cell. The stinkin’ lab, or whatever it was, kept any rays of sunlight hidden behind its thick walls. There was no clock. No windows. Just the same yellow-tinted light that never turned off. Sometimes he would catch the faint echoes of footsteps through the door, but besides that, there were no other sounds heard. 

Complete. Silence.

He never realized how significant noise was. How.. normal it made each day; A skitter of a roach on the flaked tile, a light drip of the sewer pipe that Don hadn’t quite reached for repairs yet, the flick of Splinter’s tail as he paced, waiting for the kettle to sound so he could have his scheduled morning tea.. And even in the more simple things. While he and his bros read their books in the living room, the faint static of the TV would whisper in the background. Sensei’s Grandfather Clock would give a slight ticking hum when it reached noon.

Sound.. meant… life. 

Well, there was no doubt that he was still alive. Can’t feel pain if you’re dead, and last he checked, he was full of the stuff. His right arm’s muscles ached in a dull burn from whatever juice that mad scientist injected into him. Besides making him extremely uncomfortable, that liquid acid stuff really didn’t do all that much damage. That realization both intrigued and terrified him.

Does the stuff take longer to activate? Or was it just a dud?? Can a shot be a dud???

Raph slumped back onto the table he was currently strapped down to. He didn’t have to think too far back to remember what happened; How it made his body feel. When the needle pierced his skin, a swift chill flooded his veins, just like every other injection. But then before he had the chance to blink, the freezing cold crackled into searing hot. Like when you put your hand in ice for way too long. Every nerve in his arm twisted into knots as the poison slowly clawed its way up his bicep and into his neck. Blurs of screams pass through his memory as he shakes his head and pushes onto the next thing he can remember.

His memory takes him to the moment Specter began questioning him. With each interrogating word, Raph could feel his will.. lessen. The fire of defiance he had worn like a badge began getting smothered by the cold streams of the neon green liquid burning through his veins. As the interrogation continued, a voice began speaking to him deep in his mind. It shadowed the cold tone of Specter, melding together in a horrible chorus of condescension. It whispered empty promises to him. It begged him to “use his head” and just give in.

But Raph had never been good at taking orders. He fought strenuously at his binds, using the pain and movement to distract him from the voice. It took everything in him to finally burst through the ghostly whispers, making them dissipate into a murky echo. The voice chanted the same phrase over and over until it finally vanished from Raph’s mind:

“Just give in. Use your head.”

Excellent idea.

Raph’s mouth curled into a proud grin as he recalled using the voice’s words against it. The final cherry on top of the sundae of spite: A solid headbutt leaving Specter clinging to his profusely bleeding face. A true work of art if he had to say so himself. Even with the pain still radiating through his body, he gave a silent chuckle as the mad scientist beelined it for the door, leaving small crimson puddles in his wake. 

The small victory was cut short when he saw the jerk use Don’s mask as a hanky. Talk about disrespect. 

“Don, okitemasu ka?” (Don?..You awake?)

There was a slight sound of shuffling as his now non-purple clad brother turned to face Raph. Or at least- as best he could while being tied down to the floor by his wrists. Raph winced at the sight of the growing purple-ish red bruise spreading across Don’s left cheek.

“Hai, akiraka ni.” Don spoke in his usual “I’m too tired for this” tone.(Yes, obviously.)

“Keikaku wa arimasu ka?” (Do we have a plan?)

Don paused, shifting his expression to one Raph knew quite well: his “I’m thinking” face. Don’s brows creased together as his eyes lowered to look at his closed fists. A small moment of more unnerving silence passed as Raph waited impatiently for his brother to give a hint as to what was going on in his overly-sized brain. 

Without saying a word, Don used his hazel eyes to steer Raph’s matching set onto what was in the freckled brother’s hand. A tiny shard of glass.

How did he-??

Apparently Raph’s confusion was clear in his body language, cause Don, still being blind as a bat, nodded while he quickly fingerspelled the letters G-L-A-S-S-E-S. 

Ok- we got a teeny glass knife.. Pretty sure it’s too small to do any real damage, and it’ll break if Don tries to use it to unlock his cuffs.. So.. how is that helpful at all????

Again, true to their twin nature, Don read Raph’s feelings like a book, and continued to sign the word “WAIT.” 

That.. is not an answer.

Don rolled his eyes and gave a dramatic sigh.

“Sain suru no ga itai!” The freckled brother hissed in annoyance. (It hurts to sign!)

Oh. Oops.

“G-gomen..” Raph whispered as he hunched his shoulders in apology.(Sorry..)

Don simply gave a slack thumbs up before dropping his weighted cuffs back to the ground to give his aching wrists a break. The clangs of his cuffs hitting the floor echoed through their empty cell. 

Silence drowned the brothers in a thick sheet of anxiety in seconds. The room felt as if the walls began to stretch, only growing the cell’s chill of emptiness. The cold sensation crawled its way up Raph’s arms and legs like a spider skittering up his shell, making him shudder in discomfort.

Raph’s annoyance levels were at an all-time high at this point. Not only was he captured, doomed to be some mad scientist’s plaything, stuck in awkward silence, and tied down so he couldn’t move- but with every word he spoke, he had to take the time to translate it from English to Japanese. And then he had to properly say it in that dialect so that Don would understand him through his lousy accent and stuttering. On top of that, his arm still ached and shuddered from time to time, making it very hard to concentrate. 

Usually at about this time, Raph would excuse himself from the room and throw hands with an unfortunately placed pipe sticking out of the ground. He had to do something to get his building energy out. If he chose through his fists in a secluded room, then no one would get hurt. Well- maybe him, but bruised and bloodied knuckles are nothing to cry about. The only other option to get it out would be through his mouth- and that choice has landed him far too many times in his room with a sore butt for it to be his first pick. Sensei always taught him that words can sting like venom, so he always chose his fists. He learned pretty quick that it’s best for him to hide when he released his brimming energy. It never ended well when someone got in his way.

But now here he is, on the brink of a volcanic eruption of built up negative energy and stress, and with no way to let it out. His tight fists shook in their strapped leather binds, making the metal belts clink and clang. Raph let out a frustrated growl as all his tugging and pulling proved to be useless. Not a dent or a tear in sight. His foot tapped restlessly on the floor in erratic bursts.

Finally- the silence ended.

Raph and Don shot their heads up in unison as they heard the sounds of footsteps and keys outside the door of their cell. Don lifted his head and straightened his posture immediately, trying to mask the obvious exhaustion weighing his body down by the second. Raph raised his chin and took a deep inhale as the door’s handle began to turn. 

The door opened revealing a woman with a pointed chin and nose. Her hair was long and straight as if it were made of plastic. Her abyss blue irises were framed with thick-rimmed glasses. She pointed at Don with a glossy, red tipped finger.

“That one.” She curtly ordered.

Raph watched in horror as two guards rushed towards his brother. The first tried to grab at Don’s chains, but was quickly thwarted by his brother’s teeth clamping down onto their arm. The second guard immediately stepped in, pointing and firing his pistol at Don’s neck. With a *thwick* the dart penetrated into his skin, making him yelp. 

No. Please- God- NO.

Don continued to struggle against the two men, but the tranq was already starting to take effect, making Don’s movements go from quick and calculated to sluggish and desperate. As the men began to lift Don up from his chains, he tried one last ditch effort at an attack. His fist, now released from being tied down to the ground, came rocketing straight into one of the guard’s faces. But as Raph watched, he noticed something. Right before Don’s fist made contact with the man, he released his grip and shot out his fingers.

Something shiny flew from his twin’s hand and landed right in between Raph’s feet. As subtly as he could, Raph slid the glass underneath his heel. The struggle between the guards and Don continued, giving Raph hope that nothing was noticed. But finally, after using all his strength to fight off the guards, Don fell limp onto the ground succumbing to the effects of the tranquilizer.

Please don’t take him!! DON’T LET THEM TAKE HIM!!

And all Raph could do….

..was watch through tear-filled eyes as his brother, his twin, was dragged away into the blinding light of the hallway.

That's it for this chapter. :) I'M SO HAPPY TO BE BACK TO WRITING SIWWWWW!!!!!! I've missed it so~

If you enjoyed reading, feel free to reblog this!

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

MASTERPOST <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[betterto-die-thanto-crawl]

Some Alternate Universe Angst for @w-o-r-d-s--f-a-i-l

Peter tried to fly, knowing it was his best bet against these new inhabitants of Neverland. He could never match them in strength alone. He was too small and too caught off guard by their diverse ways of fighting... Sure, some of the pirates had used axes, but never like this! And he'd nearlt been hit by a shield hard enough to leave him winded and nearly stunned several times already. To fly and be light, to dip in and out and try to catch them unawares was all he thought might could even possibly get him out alive. He had been successful thus far, distracting berserkers enough that pirates or lost boys could bat them away, and perhaps his cockiness had gotten to his head, even through the violent terror that shook him to his core because he was actually fighting to survive, but what ever it was, he didn't notice the warrior in the trees as thet nocked an arrow and aimed precisely, before firing and hitting their mark... him. He gave a gasp of pain and surprise, looking at the wound for a moment with a horrified look as he immediately began to fall. He landed with a painful thud that knocked the wind out of him as badly as any of the vikings' shields, and when he tried to sit up, he was dazed, but he managed it, even managing somehow to push himself to his feet as he held pressure on the entry wound. He couldn't fight like this. He couldn't fly like this. As much as he hated it, his only option was to flee, so he turned and did his best to hurry away, even as he was hindered by his pain. James... where was James? He had to find James. He turned back and found him instantly across the clearing and through the battle, and somehow, as if their joined souls meant they could communicate with just a thought, the pirate dispatched the berserker he was fighting and looked up to see Peter's terrified and pained expression, and then to see as he was grabbed from behind by a pair of warriors. "James!" The cry was bloodcurdling, but the battle separated them, and the struggle caused him to lose sight of James in the chaos. Peter struggled as best as he could, doing anything he could to free his arms while kicking wildly and even trying to bite at his captors. One of the warriors hit him hard on the back of the head with the hilt of a knife he had drawn from his belt, but the Prince of Runaways managed to fight against his attempts, even as something hot and wet and sticky began to creep down the back of his head. One of them began to try and tie his hands behind his back, but Pan wouldn't let them take him so easily. "No! No! James! Tootles! Somebody!" One of the warriors clapped a hand over his mouth to silence him, and the young man managed to bite his hand and give a vicious snarl before getting a hard blow to the face and one to the gut that left him winded and dazed, but he managed to struggle on, even if now his attempts were far weaker and useless. Perhaps it was the fairy magic that let him keep struggling against such insurmountable odds, against such brutish warriors and in spite of his injured, but it could only last so long until one of the vikings gave a growl of frustration and pressed a hand hard over his nose and mouth, holding them both closed, until the young man went limp in his arms. Pan was caught.

(not my best, maybe... rather rushed... but still nice and angsty... 😈)

[athousandyearstime]

Upstairs! Up, up, up, up, up, up, up!

DOCTOR WHO | The Star Beast

[risibledeer]

SPOILER"S!!!! She's not just a heart breaker she's a soul crusher. also CLeo needs her own kim possible theme song i think. also guys guys the winner of real life is a dead person - deep stuff out of context lol

[firstofficerkittycat]

[geneticdriftwood]

persephone's in hell; a rooftop conversation

for @mysterycitrus

persephone's in hell, @mysterycitrus // white winter hymnal, fleet foxes // assorted dc comics

[inklore]

has anyone ever seen a more pathetic man than colin staring at penelope's mouth? trick question, you haven't!!!

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Person with no whimsy: Why are you trying to trick g-d with loopholes? 🙄🙄🙄🙄

[withswords]

habit jumpscare

[threepandas]

Bad End: Eve

You know how most Otome games are vaguely historical? Usually some non-specific mishmash of European countries? But fluffier and with more bows? It had once "gotten" to me, I think. I remember looking for outliers. Non-joke ones. Something that wasn't just "but this time with hats!"

I found one.

And now? Now I'm not sure if I curse that day or thank whatever force of nature lead me there. I guess... I guess it depends. Would I still have ended up HERE? If I had not found it? If so, then I genuinely and actually fucking rue it. Like... like actual "you'll rue the day! Bwahaha!" Type rue it. That's me. Ruing.

But? If it was always going to happen?

Then I guess...

I guess I'm weirdly glad. Because at least I have some fucking idea of what's going ON. Terrible, as it all is. Fucked, as the situation is. At least I'm not... not confused. Blind and at the mercy of those around me. Ignorance truely isn't bliss. All it does is leave you to try an fill in the blanks yourself. Usually with something far worse.

Not that the situation could GET much worse, by much.

I was in an Otome game. NOT a flower, high society, and dragons kind either. No. I? Was in a Dark Sci-Fi otome game. "Fate of man" was thrown around a lot. Power of luuuuv~ and such. Also, you know, HORRIFIC ethical violations. Human experimentation. Cataclysmic events and humanity "starting over".

All the high drama sci-fi concepts you could expect. It was a romp. Had good art. I'd had fun! Which is why I remember it so clearly.

Less fun when you're IN IT.

When you AREN'T one of the characters you KNOW will survive.

In fact, are one of the characters you know WON'T fucking survive. And will probably die MESSY. Horribly. Cause see, our BELOVED Harem collecting Protagonist? She? Was AN Eve. "AN".

Take a wild fucking guess what THAT project is about.

Did you say "breeding a better race of humans"? Ding ding ding! With humanity currently fucked, they want to FIX the problem by FIXING humanity. And of course, fuck ethics! Volunteers? Why use those?! Let's horrifically mad scientist our way to atrocity-ville! Make it all the more "God rightfully punishing us for our unforgivable sins" when we get wiped out!

Fffffffuck YOU, plot! I have to live here too!

You may, in fact, be picking up a slight note of stir crazy. A "wow, this lady rambles like a mother fucker" vibe. You would TOO, if you were stuck in a FUCKING TUBE. All I can do, day in and day out? Is wake, think, observe, then go right back to sleep. I can't even eat! I got a TUBE for that!

I... I miss showers.

Everything is GOO.

I'm an Eve. And if it weren't for the air tube controlng my breathing? I'd laughing hysterically until I died. And no, not in the "oh how funny" way. God. Oh... oh god. What a way to die. NONE of the Eves survive "the program".

Those IDIOTS are so OBSESSED with making bigger and bigger, better and better, FUCKING JUGGERNAUTS? That the Adams? Have long since reached the point of "mindless killing machine". UNSTABLE is putting it lightly. There is sexual dimorphism and then there's literal incompatibility.

But GOD FORBID the scientists admit that THEY are the ones with the inferior product.

It... it was even part of the game's plot. The scientist who made "Eve" HID her while HE made an Adam. I do not have that luxury. Somewhere, there is an unstable BESERKER being told I'm his "wife". That we're going to be HAPPY together. That he'll get to put his bruising, blood soaked hands anywhere he WANTS... just after he WINS me from the other Adam's.

Got to prove HE'S the best specimen, after all.

It makes my skin crawl. All I can hope, is that I can either provoke the bastard enough to kill me before they have a chance to stop him, or? I use my own enhanced strength to snap my neck. Maybe bite my tounge. Like HELL am I letting an Adam get near me.

The hiss of laboratory doors.

"Perfection at last..." Comes a relieved sigh. "All those HIDEOUS specimens. Why they make me suffer them, I'll never understand. We should have terminated them months ago. My poor project, they really think they're WORTHY of you..."

There's a derisive laugh. The scientist strolling into the lab I've been developing in, familiar. I watch him casually shrug off his lab coat and dump is bag. Hang his coat over the back of his chair. Turn, as he does each day, to STARE up at me. His eyes are a pale, pale purple the likes of which I've never seen before.

They're HAUNTING.

There is almost a red tint to them, though maybe that's the lights. The goo. I can never tell. He always looks ENTRANCED by me. Floating, visored, connected to far too many tubes an' wires. I'd think it was the fact that I was naked if it weren't for the way his gaze doesn't seem to drift lower then my shoulders. Seems more entranced by the way my hair moves, as though under water.

I've never once heard him talk about me lustfully.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't SCARE me.

"Let's begin, shall we? Time for your daily doses, mmm?" He says, voice dangerously affectionate. As though i had CHOSEN to do this to myself. As though he were merely reminding me of my morning medicine and not the hell ahout to come. "Going to be good for me? I know you shall, you always are."

He turned back to his desk, his computer. A few keystrokes... and I could feel the pod above me begin to hum, as it awoke. Oh god. Oh god it never got easier. From the corner of my eyes, bright chemicals slide down thind lines and into my veins. Like lines of lava. Bolts of electricity and pain. It was... AGONY.

My muscles seized. Brain screeched, first to the screaming I wish I could make... then static. With the long practice of daily pain, it took me far away. The click, click, click of keys. The sound of his voice, so terribly PLEASED, as I hung there and just TOOK it. No restraints, no strugging, no damaging myself. Just unbearable fire in my veins and a brain far, far away.

"Good girl~"

Distantly a phone rang. He made an annoyed sound, but picked up regardless.

"What. I'm in the middle of- ...Excuse me? I'm quite sure I did not hear you correctly. I said 'NO'. She's not-....I will NOT BE-...What. Are you out of your god damned MIND? That pile of scraps you call a project is coming NOWHERE near my-! ....you think you're clever, don't you?"

"Fine. You want to TALK? Let's TALK, Anderson. I'll be there in five."

From far away, past the pain, I watched him chance down at something at the screen. Back up to me. He hung up the phone but did not pause the program. Instead, calmly rising from his desk. Shrugging on his lab coat. Rounding the desk and striding towards my bio-tube.

"Hmmm, honestly, it should have been spaced out over a few more days... but you can take it. Endure a bit longer for me, would you, darling? Daddy's going to go deal with something for just a moment, he'll be right back, my perfect girl. Be good."

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to my tank. One hand splayed next to it like he badly wished he could touch. Could stroke skin. Hold his creation close. It was not the first time he had done this. Small, covetous, little actions like he wanted to crawl inside my skin and STAY there. Like he cursed the glass that separated us.

He pulled back. Shifted to the side and kneeled. He... had hidden something behind my bio-pod? When? Apparently before I had become aware. Because I had not known about it. A black shoe box. I watched him open i-GUN. Thaaaat was a gun! Fuck. Well at least? By the time anyone thinks to look in on me? The overdose will probably have killed me?

There is a cold, terrible smile on his face as he rolls to his face. Tucking the gun into an inner pocket. It has a silencer. He leans forward one last time. Lightly kissing the glass of my pod, as though heading off to work and not to very obviously kill somebody. The pain continues. Builds. I watch him leave.

With nothing to anchor myself on... time blurs.

I think? There are alarms? Red lights flash. Then they stop. There is shouting at one point. But then silence. An explosion? Or am I hallucinating? Pain. My nerves are on fire. I don't want to have SKIN. Please... please make it STOP! Calm foot steps? Come to kill me? Please come to kill me. Make it STOP.

The lights died a... time? Ago? Emergency lights on now. Generators in the room are loud. Why can I still hear the feet? Footses? Words. H..hurts. please.

Click.

The pain eases to a stop. Aching but nothing new. Over? Oh, thank god. I can sleep now, right? But... sound? New. At my feet. Gurgling. Wha-? The very top of my head feels cold. Then my forehead. Then my temple's and ears, cheeks, jaw... wait. Is? Is the tube...DRAINING? I open my eyes.

When did I close them?

He's back.

Standing right in front of the tube. Blood staining the hem of his coat, lingering marks of his massacre cleaned but not quite scrubbed from his body. There are little off red stains on his cheek, from what must be blood splatter. They look like tiny freckles.

I'm... I can't...

I reach as the tube down my throat is pulled almost carelessly away by the machine. Choke, suffocate, as the same is done for my air tube. But then it's done... and I can BREATHE under my own power. Gasp and splutter, as the goo sloshes around my knees. Then it's gone. And the tube I've been leaning my weight against is roughly pulled away.

I collapse forward, my muscles having never actually supported me in this life.

Arms catch me. Wrapping me in a possessive hug. A hand immediately burying itself in long uncut hair, even as the other wraps itself around my torso to lean me against his body in a cradle. My face is pressed to his neck by the hand in my hair, cradling my head and neck. I can feel breath against the goo wet crown of my head.

"Finally~" he breaths out, whispering it against me like a sigh. "My beautiful, perfect girl. My darling creation. It took so LONG. Those retrobates interfering at every turn, lusting after you like ANIMALS, trying to keep you from me. Then, worst of all, trying to toss you to some pack of savages? Oh, darling~ Daddy's been so worried for you."

"But we'll be okay now, won't we? I finally have you. All fresh and finally finished. My perfect Eve. You can pick any name you want, of course. You and I will be leaving this ugly little place. Daddy has PLANS. A fresh new world, just for you, sweetheart."

He laughed, his hug tightening in a way that would have left bruises had I been a normal human. Kisses were pressed to my temple. A cheek, rubbed against my hair. He seemed... seemed GIDDY with it. That nothing could stop him now. There was no glass in his way. I could not move yet. My muscles twitched when I tried, but that was it. I wasn't even sure I could talk yet, if I tried.

"Aaah~♡ Welcome to the World, Darling. My Perfection. My Eve. This time no snakes or Adams to tarnish you. To get in your way. Just you and your Father~"

"FOREVER~♡"

Next: ->

[beedalee]

"this was supposed to be a warm-up" drawing of my V Rising-sona. I called her Moonlight to go with naf's Sunset. it's a fun game!!! 🦇

[truths33k3r4]

CHAPTER 3 - Useless Protector

“LET GO OF HIM!!!!!!” Raph screamed, scorching his sore throat with the fires of his unleashed temper.

Screw speaking in code. 

The pointed-faced woman sighed and dropped her shoulders. She then slowly turned to Raphael with nothing but apathy and annoyance chiseled into her features. For a second, Raph noticed her brows rise slightly, almost as if she were intrigued. But that flash of human curiosity was quickly pushed aside by the need to act professional. Her posture mirrored a stiff suit of armor in a throne room, and her soul was twice as empty.

“Oh, do shut up you little pest,” she sneered with a sharp British tongue, “...your little colleague here will be right back. Not that you need to know, but we’re just going to do some routine checks on him. Nothing major, so you can keep your filthy scales on.”

Raph hated how the woman kept her chin elevated and her posture dignified. Her eyes pierced his being with blades of scornfulness, like a queen looking down on her worthless subjects. She knew she held all the cards. She knew she was safe to waltz around like a spoiled royal, while Raph was held down by his binds.

These straps are the only thing keepin’ her head on her shoulders.

Raph took a semi-calming breath.

“Why… are we here?” He snarled through his bared fangs.

Needle-Nose huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, you must be daft if you think that unique specimens such as yourselves would go unnoticed. You’re more easy to spot than a mole on a face.” She gave a heartless, restrained laugh into her hand. “The world continues to grow and evolve, and we would be fools to not do the same. Every day our understanding of this world sharpens. Every day we become more powerful with our knowledge….You’re proof of that.”

What?!

“Now.. as much as I’d love to chat with my new prisoner, I must be off. There’s…

so much to do.”

The woman’s face dented and cracked into a wicked smile as she curtly turned back around, and shut the door behind her with a loud, echoing *THANG*. 

Despite the panic and rage swelling through his brain, Raph shut his eyes and did his best to listen as he heard the woman order the guards to bring Don to Room 6. The sounds of his brother’s helpless body being dragged away brought a twisting ache into his stomach. His ears rang with the booming pulse of his heart. No breath was ever enough to fill his empty lungs.

What does she mean- I’m PROOF??

~You gotta breathe.~ A shivering voice echoed, its tone timid and small.

WHAT THE HECK DOES THAT MEAN?!?!?!

~You need to breathe.~ The small voice gently repeated.

She’s gotta be lyin’. Just- tryin’ to get into my head-

~DON’T LISTEN TO HER.~ A harsh yell boomed, Its words gritty and heartless.

Raph felt as if he were trapped inside of a large bell, clanging with the piercing voices in his head. Every ring trembled the ground below him.

~YOU FAILED HIM.~

~Just give up.~

~YOU NEED TO FIGHT!~

~You can’t do this.~

 The grimy walls of his cell vanished before his eyes, crumbling into pieces with each ring of the voice’s wails.

Darkness closed in.

I can’t trust her- Who knows what she’s doing to Don- She could be cuttin’ him open for all I know.. I..

~YOU NEED TO SAVE HIM.~

~You can’t do anything.~

~YOU’RE GOING TO DIE HERE BECAUSE YOU FAILED.~

He thrashed and yanked at his binds. The strong leather didn’t budge. He periodically looked down to see if there were any loose threads or tears. 

None.

The voices continued to ring.

~Get out of here! Save yourself!~

~IF YOU WERE A REAL NINJA YOU WOULD’VE ESCAPED BY NOW.~

He craned his neck to see if he could bite off the leather straps holding down his plastron. 

His fangs couldn’t reach.

~You’re never going to make it home.~

“GRAGHHHHH!” Raph growled in exasperation. 

I need to get OUT OF HERE.

I need to get out NOW!

Don’s alone… alone with THEM.

AND I’M HERE BEING FREAKING USELESS!

Raph dropped his head as angry tears began burning at his eyes. One by one he watched as they fell to the grimy tiles below.

~You can’t let them see you cry.~

~YOU CAN’T LET THEM KNOW THEY BEAT YOU.~

~GET OVER YOURSELF AND MOVE!~

~YOU ARE THE PROTECTOR.~

~CAN’T YOU AT LEAST GET THAT RIGHT?!!~

Raph’s growls broke into uncontrollable sobs as he buried his face deep into his shoulder. His cheeks flushed hotly and his brain just wouldn’t stop.

~WARRIORS DON’T CRY. THEY SUCK IT UP AND MOVE FORWARD.~

The tears wouldn’t stop.

He couldn’t stop them.

He couldn’t.. STOP THEM.

“Please, God… P-p-please- I.. I d-don’t.. I don’t know what to.. to do.. I…I CAN’T DO ANYTHING. Please- P-p-please give me something.. Something I CAN DO!!!!” Raph cried out breathlessly into his shoulder, no longer holding back everything he had felt since he and Don were taken:

Every fear.

Every burst of anger.

Every rush of adrenaline.

Every tear of draining hope.

When he opened his eyes, the strength in him had finally left. His head sagged in defeat as the last of his sobs escaped his trembling lips. 

“Please….” A pitiful hiccup made Raph’s whole body flinch. “.....show me what to do..”

Silence.

With his last tear spent, he watched as it fell from his face onto the ground. The small droplet of weakness splashed into a tiny puddle, making the light reflect off it. Thanks to the blurriness of Raph’s vision, the light glowed brightly, almost as if it were a star shimmering under his feet. 

But the weird thing was.. 

There were two stars.

Raph’s brows creased in minimal confusion as he rubbed his eyes with his dry shoulder. When his vision cleared, he blinked a few times before looking down again.

There, below his right ankle, was the shard of glass.

Raph’s eyes widened as his mouth fell open. 

His way out had literally been under his nose this whole time.

As carefully as he could, he maneuvered the shard in between his toes. He winced as a small sliver of crimson began beading in the webbing of his foot. Oops. Forget that, keep going.

~DO. NOT. DROP. IT.~

Pain burst from his ankle as he twisted it to reach his opposite foot’s binding. Using the grip on the shard, he wiggled his toes to make it move up and down over the leather that was strapped over his opposite leg. The motion made his ankle and foot ache tremendously, but that didn’t stop him. 

Nothing would ever stop him again.

Over and over he bent his toes to move the shard, while a tight ache had begun gripping down on his ankle. 

~GET OVER IT. KEEP GOING.~

Finally, a clear dent had been sliced into the straps.

 Raph continued to focus, and sometimes even forgot to breathe. 

~KEEP GOING.~

His ankle contorted in pain, resulting in beads of sweat dripping off his face, falling and splashing into the small pools of his tears below. 

The slice was now maybe an inch deep. 

Raph involuntarily yelped when a muscle cramp bit into his toes and ankle. It spread quickly all throughout his right leg, making the veins in his shin and thigh pulse and protrude his skin.

~KEEP. GOING.~

Biting down another cry of pain, he fought through. His toes were stiff thanks to the cramp, and it was getting harder and harder to hold onto the shard of glass. His right leg shivered with spasms.

Just….a little….more..

Raph’s vision became blurry, and his heartbeat pulsed in his ears.

~BREATHE YOU IDIOT.~

He quickly took a shaky inhale and tried to hold it in as long as he could, before letting out a deep exhale. Without meaning to, he had relaxed his entire body.

He heard a small *clink* below.

DANG IT! DANG IT! DANG IT!

The pressure restricting and pulsing through his ankle made it harder to grip the shard a second time. His last remaining flecks of energy were draining fast, and the pain was quickly becoming unbearable. He bit the outside of his lip to distract himself as he eventually gripped the shard between his toes again.

~HURRY!~

His ankle continued to tremble and pulse as his toes went back to work on the leather.

Up.

Down.

Ow..

Up.

Down.

Up. 

Down.

OW..

Another pathetic yelp clawed its way out of his lungs. His eyes felt wet.

~KEEP. GOING.~

Ow…ow…OW..OW!

A sound caught his attention.

He looked down.

The band of leather now hung limp, swinging from its base at the ledge of the table. Raph instinctually moved his left foot up, down, and to the sides.

One down.

Four to go.

That's it for this chapter!!! Thank you for reading!!

I have to admit this was one of the hardest chapters I've written. Raph's inner voices were a bit tricky to differentiate, and it took a few re-writes, (and the helpful critiques and guidance of @poetique823!) to get it right. :) But I'm very happy with how it turned out. And the art in this chapter was on a whole other level of difficult- but still so much fun to experiment with! This was also the second time that I wrote from experience. As in I put myself in the place of my character and physically attempted to do the same thing they did so I would understand better how to write it. In this chapter, Raph slices his binds with a shard of glass nestled between his toes. So.... I took a pair of tweezers, placed them on the floor, and positioned myself up against the frame of my bed to keep my feet and legs in place. I can say for a fact that it was indeed possible if you're more flexible like me.. But DAAAAAAAANG IT did it hurt after a few seconds. XD

If you have any questions or if you want to drop a quick review below, please feel free! :)

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

MASTERPOST <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[a-s-levynn]

(source)

[bloodfreak-boyking]

things that make me aboslutely batshit insane about this scene:

1.) sam being so willing to just straight up kill himself (i love u martyr boy <3)

2.) dean's absolute REFUSAL of that plan (the very soft way he says "for the last time, no" to sam when its just the two of them - i could survive on that alone for eternity)

3.) dean is willing to give up his most PRIZED POSSESSION, HIS PRECIOUS IMPALA, to a COMPLETE STRANGER, bc he's not leaving sam here alone to die

4.) sam trying so hard to get dean to leave, to get dean to live (but ultimately failing because if sam isn't alive dean doesn't want to be either in fact he'll make sure he isn't either)

5.) dean trying to use humor to make this all seem so casual once they're alone, as if he isn't sacrificing his life for the sake of his brother

I truly believe that if Sam was infected and Dean did have to kill him, he'd pull him into a big ol' bear hug, press their faces together cheek to cheek, put the gun at his temple, and pull the trigger to shoot both of them in the head simultaneously.

[doctorsiren]

keiji mogami

(w/o effects + sketch under the cut)

[brekitten]

Bruce doesn't dream.

He never has, really - at least, not that he can remember. He never even had nightmares from the night his parents died. Maybe that's why; maybe he just subconsciously trained himself to not dream after that night, in fear of the nightmares that were sure to come. But the point is that he does not dream.

And yet.

The dream always starts out the same, every night, every time he closes his eyes and slips into the embrace of sleep. He's in a pitch-black room, one so dark that he can't see his hands even when he raises them right in front of his face. He knows, somehow, that he can walk for hours without coming into contact with anything - walls, furniture, anything at all to indicate that he was even in a room. Yet he knows that he is, although he's not sure why, as there really is no reason for him to know that.

The dream changes, after a while of walking. He knows that he won't find anything, no matter how far or how long he walks. This place is empty, desolate even. It fills him with dread every time. The change is never consistent, always bringing him to a different place each night.

(Once, it was a dusty old bedroom, one that made his heart ache, although he didn't know why. He had taken notice of the various space-themed decorations, the model rockets and NASA posters and stars on the ceiling. It was clearly a child's bedroom, but it hadn't been used in a long time. Another time, it was a darkened lab, illuminated only by the strange vials of green liquid lined along the many, many shelves. Bruce had wondered, after he had awoken, if it was Lazarus Water, but that felt wrong. It was something else. Something more. It had made him uneasy, and he got the feeling that something terrible had happened there. He didn't get a chance to investigate the gaping hole in the wall before he had been whisked away to another part of the dream.)

This time, he is in a brightly-lit white lab, and he has to blink stars out of his eyes at the abrupt change in lighting and color. He looks around; it seems like a typical lab, but everything is pure white, except for a green stain on the table. He can feel bile rising in his throat at the sight of the cuffs on the table, and though he still doesn't know what the green substance is, he gets the horrible feeling that it's blood. A lot of it.

He uses what little time he has to investigate the lab. There is an abundance of medical supplies, but many look unused, with the exception of the scalpels. The pit in his stomach continues to grow. Why were there so many? He reaches toward a vial of red liquid, wrong wrong wrong this is wrong, when the dream changes again.

Now he's in what is clearly a cell, except even the cells in Arkham aren't this bare. The only thing it contains is a familiar white-haired teenager, who is chained to the floor with cuffs that glow the same green as the vials of Lazarus Water that he's seen before.

Though Bruce has never learned his name, he has been in every dream, the one constant (besides the empty room, of course) in each one. The kid has never spoken, never done more than watch, but Bruce has always gotten the feeling that he was the reason for these strange dreams.

He knows that he should be more worried. If some kind of meta has managed to get inside his head, there's no telling what could happen. But he can't bring himself to be. Something is wrong, and it's not the teenager.

He can't help but think of his own children.

Something feels . . . off this time. The kid isn't looking up, isn't even moving - he seems limp, almost, as he kneels on the ground, weighed down by the chains keeping him there. Green blood - Bruce knows it's blood now, it has to be - drips from his still figure, pooling on the ground underneath him.

Bruce can't move. He desperately wants to, what could he even do? but it's like he's frozen in place. He can only watch as the teenager slowly, agonizingly, looks up at him, his bright green eyes dull and filled with fear and desperation and hope and -

Bruce wakes.