#I don't really like angst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowercrowngods · 2 months

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okay due to popular demand (3 people mwah!), here's all i have on prisoners ranger!steve, bard!eddie, and the royal entourage accompanying the diplomatic mission that went so horribly wrong

Steve’s whole body is made of pain, and has been for the past few days. His feet are aching and raw from trying to keep up as they were bound to horses and dragged along. His skin is chafed and bleeding where the unforgiving rocks have managed to destroy his clothes after one too many falls, and every smallest of cuts feels like his body is nothing more than a pulsating mess.

Worst of all, though, is the dizziness. He doesn’t know if his head is still bleeding or if the wetness he can feel running down his temple is his body’s testament to the unfamiliar heat, but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

There’s only pain. And nausea. His eyes are open but he needs a second to understand what he’s seeing — and what he’s seeing is a ceiling made of sand coloured stone. Distantly, he hears a door clanging shut, but that might just as well be a memory.

He’s going to throw up. Tough luck when you don’t even know where up is.

A groan leaves his mouth as he tries to take a deep breath and fails miserably. Instead, he can add two broken ribs to the list of misery.

Gods above — whichever of them are listening — he’s tired. But he fears that if he closes his eyes, he might not open them anymore for the sheer release that would bring. He can’t sleep, can’t rest, not when—

“Easy now,” a gentle voice interrupts his less than coherent thoughts and just moments later, a tender hand is combing through his blood-crusted hair. “You shouldn’t move, my friend. There’s nowhere to move to anymore.”

Steve frowns, his brain trying and failing to provide any information at this point. The hits to his head must have been worse than he thought if his short term memory refuses to work with him anymore.

“We have reached Capital City,” the voice continues and Steve has to blink the fog away to make out its owner. When he does, it must show in his eyes, for the worry in Theodore Munson’s eyes makes way to the briefest of smiles before returning even stronger than before. “Do you not recall?”

Steve just stares up at him. That’s all his wrecked body and mind allow him to do right now. That’s all they want to do when gentle hands comb through his hair and chase away some of the pain.

It is then that reality slowly comes back to him and he realises where he is. Where they are. What is at stake if they fail any more, if they decide to torture information on Elanor and William out of them — out of him. He’s not sure how much he can take. They have been held prisoner for weeks. Steve has been hurting for even longer.

Shame rises in him and he has the urge to apologise to Jim, to explain, but moving his head to the side, he sees that his old master isn’t any better off. He appears to be sleeping, his face bruised, and a teary-eyed Maxine is wiping blood away from his face with a piece of her cloak.

Steve blinks once, twice, and takes in the man who practically raised him, watches the steady rise and fall of his chest and listens, beyond the pulsing rush of his own blood, that his lungs are not rattling. Shame makes way to satisfaction when he sees that none of their party has taken as many hits, kicks and punches as himself. His distractions have worked, then.

That’s good. Now if only they didn’t make him so nauseous. So tired. So…

“Don’t fall asleep, Steven,” Eddie demands, and the world tilts slightly, which makes everything worse until… soft. It’s softer now.

Eddie has moved him so his head is resting in his lap now.

“You don’t look too good, Ranger. Sleep is dangerous in your state, no matter how badly you might need it. Give it a few hours, please.”

A beat passes where Steve tries to process the words that are just too many. Since when does Eddie talk with him so much?

“Lies,” he says after a while and with greater effort than should be necessary.

“Lies?”

“I look very good. You just can’t see it under all the blood and the bruises.” He tries to crack a smile, but even the huffed breath jolts his head too much.

Eddie does him the favour of a brief chuckle, and Steve feels better for it. Lighter. Light is good, he finds. Maybe all he has to focus on is Eddie and his hands working out the clumps of dirt and blood from his hair, maybe all he has to do is make him smile and the world will be a bit less painful.

His world narrows down to all the ways Eddie is close to him and it does keep him occupied, but it also gets his mind wandering, the adrenaline of the past days wearing off.

“Keep doing that and I will fall asleep,” he says after another beat of silence. Fall asleep and dream. Dream of what this could mean. Dream of smiles that make me feel lighter.

“Keep doing what?” Eddie asks, and Steve senses a trick to just keep him talking, no matter how slurred his speech is. He needs a moment to remember what he said.

“This,” he says eventually, and Eddie only hums. Finding words is hard. He tries. And tries again. “Being gentle.”

Another smile, and Steve wants to close his eyes to keep it there to hold on to. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my friend.”

“Can’t not be gentle?” He’s losing force on the consonants. The pain is getting stronger, his nerve endings more frayed and his vision blurry. This is familiar. He gives himself another quarter of an hour at most before he will lose his consciousness, no matter how hard he tries to stay here. With Eddie and his wavering smile.

“Not with my friends, no.”

This time it’s Steve who smiles at the word friends. He likes to be Eddie’s friend. The man, as it turns out, is admirable, he’s strong, he’s wise when he wants to be and gentle with young Maxine. He’s kind, he’s quick-witted and patient, and his hands are impossibly soft.

“I know you said not to sleep, and I’m not normally one to deny a well-respected bard’s command, but…” He swallows. Words are hard. He’s not sure they come out as planned, but he perseveres. “I’m afraid I have to prove to you now how stubborn the Queen’s Rangers can be.”

Another hum from above him and Steve opens his eyes he hadn’t even noticed closing. The world is fading, but still Eddie is at its centre.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, then, stubborn Ranger.”

Will you smile at me still? Steve wonders.

“Always,” Eddie says, but before Steve has time to wonder if someone else has said something, darkness has swallowed him whole.

———

Steve wakes to something cold touching his forehead, moving to his temple where suddenly a jarring pain wrecks his body and he can’t quite suppress the flinch.

“Forgive me,” comes a quiet voice from above and Steve opens his eyes to the darkness of a cell, only faintly illuminated by the flickering light of a torch somewhere and the redness of the setting sun. “But I am glad to see you awake.”

The voice belongs to Eddie, who is looking down at him, a piece of cloth in his hand. Gently, he presses it to Steve’s forehead again and the cool sensation comes back, gentler this time. It takes a moment for Steve’s tired and frayed mind to catch up with reality, but when it does, he realises that the bard is washing away the dried blood and cleaning his wounds.

What an odd picture they must make.

“Tell me,” he says before he has time to consider his words. “Is it normal for a bard of Northlands to take care of wounded Rangers?”

“No,” Eddie says and there’s something to his voice Steve can’t quite identify. He’s not sure he likes it, not sure what it does to his insides. “There are never any Rangers there.”

Even through the dim light, Steve can see the mirth in his eyes and it makes him laugh – if only briefly, for his body is quick to remind him that any sort of movement is a bad, terrible, truly horrid idea. He just barely manages to suppress a groan, but nothing could get past the bard’s eyes, and his hand moves from Steve’s forehead to his cheek almost immediately.

“Careful, my friend. You shouldn’t be laughing.”

“Stop making me laugh, then. That would make it all so much easier.” There’s no heat behind his words and he doesn’t even try not to lean into the touch.

Eddie hums but stays quiet otherwise and keeps wiping Steve’s face clean, watching his every reaction. A frown slowly forms between those brows and Steve wonders what that is for. Did something happen while he was out of it? Time passes differently in the desert, yes, the sun and moon following different paths, but he can’t have been unconscious for more than three hours. It is barely yet nightfall, their cell colder than before.

Three hours. And Eddie still sits cross-legged with Steve’s head on his thigh.

Guilt and embarrassment shoot through him and he wants to move, wants to get up and release the bard from his demeaning task of playing nurse to a wounded Ranger, but his ribs protest and his head pulses with white-hot pain before it sends his world spinning again and Steve sags back into the warmth of Theodore.

“I must be painting the most pathetic picture of her Majesty’s Rangers. I swear, most of us are better than this.”

It comes out light hearted as always, despite the pain it leaves inside his chest to be presenting himself like this. Representing all Rangers to the kingdoms of the South with his weakness. All that on top of losing Will. Again.

He closes his eyes against the pity he is bound to see in Eddie’s eyes.

“You paint a picture of bravery such as I scarcely saw it before. Never in my life did I see a man move so slowly, so unseen unless as I was looking right at you. You are excellent with the sword and the bow, and even the weapons of the desert folk are natural to you. I can imagine the pain and suffering you have seen, some of which you must have caused in the name of justice, yet you carry inside yourself a light-heartedness that is refreshing to say the least.”

Steve swallows, has never been good at taking compliments, and luckily hasn’t been in the position to accept them in quite a while.

“Light-hearted?” he rasps. “You can’t be talking about the same Rangers I know, surely.”

“I was talking about you, Steven,” Eddie admits quietly, and his voice is so tender when he says his name that it makes Steve’s breath hitch.

“Oh,” he says intelligently. Swallows. “Then the head injury must be severe.”

“Admirable of you to hide a concussion for so many days. I think healers of all kingdoms would have a lot of questions for you if they knew.”

Steve huffs and smiles through the pain of his undoubtedly broken ribs protesting. “My apologies, Eddie. Queen Joyce of the West and Sir James himself would both have my head if I taught you our concussion-hiding ways.”

“A pity,” Eddie says and there’s that smile in his voice again that doesn’t show on his lips, at least in this light. Steve doesn’t care, though, as he smiles up at him.

This moment in time belongs to the both of them as Steve finds he can’t quite look away, and it’s not the pain that keeps him.

Eddie opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it again. The frown reappears between his brows and Steve wants to reach out and smoothen the creased skin above his nose. If only moving his arm didn’t require such strength that keeps evading him, the night weighing heavy on his limbs.

After another minute, Eddie does find his words, though they are quiet this time. “I worried.”

“About what?” Steve asks when he doesn’t continue.

Eddie resumes his endeavour of washing the crusted blood from his hair and face, the sensation soothing his skin but not his nerves. Steve does reach up this time to still his hand, and the bard meets his eyes again.

“That you wouldn’t wake up.” It comes out small, void of that usual easy confidence.

Steve swallows every comment on the tip of his tongue about how the rest of their group could easily keep Eddie entertained without any concussions bothering them. It’s not often that he has control over his tongue, but in the face of such open worry and vulnerability, his heart aches and he wants to say the right thing.

“I’m awake, Theodore Munson. It takes far more to put me out for good.”

It’s a lie, he knows. It would not have taken that much more, but Eddie doesn’t need to know that.

“Don’t let them hear that, they will take that as a challenge.”

Steve only gives a non-committal hum and closes his eyes again. If he didn’t, the darkness of the cell and the kindness in Eddie’s eyes would have made him say stupid things like, Let them, if that means everyone else is safe. That would surely dim the light in those black eyes and very likely make Jim throw a boot at him. And Steve really doesn’t want to have to deal with either of those things.

Eddie resumes his task of gently cleaning him, and Steve gets the feeling that the bard must be doing it for himself just as much as for him. It’s something to keep himself occupied, and the way he talks betrays his intentions in turn of keeping Steve awake and occupied, too.

A gesture that is almost too kind to bear, as dusk turns into night and the silver light of the full moon illuminates their cell.

———

Jim lies just a few feet beside them, and now that his eyes have had the chance to adjust to the darkness properly, the concussion already weaker than it was earlier, Steve can see that his eyes are open. Or, one eye is; the other is swollen too badly. Another wave of guilt and shame clouds his senses for a moment and he has the urge to ask forgiveness. He feels responsible, even though he knows Jim would hit him over the head if Steve so much as mentioned that.

His eyes cut back to Eddie above him when a yawn interrupts the bard’s steady movements with the cloth that is barely wet anymore.

“You never got any rest, did you?” he asks – stupidly, because the moment the words leave his lips Steve remembers the very reason for Eddie’s wakefulness. He winces before the other man even gets the chance to answer. “Right, my fault. Forgive me.”

If the ground beneath him could open now, he would have a banquet in its honour. With a groan, he moves to sit up and free Eddie of his dead weight, the motion pulling on his cuts and bruises, irritating his broken and burning ribs in a way so sudden it steals his breath for a second. Steve is well acquainted with pain, but the all-encompassing nature of it right now is thoroughly unwelcome.

Hands come up to steady him, guiding him to sit up and lean against the stone wall, his own shoulder coming to rest against Eddie’s, who only slowly lets go of him.

“Thank you,” Steve breathes, looking at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“It’s hardly a question of fault,” Eddie says in that calm, soothing way of his that keeps making Steve want to reach out and hold on. Hold him. “And it was no hardship to stay and… be gentle.”

Something in the back of his mind wants to tell him something but it’s too foggy to grasp.

“Gentle,” he says, inquiring, as though saying the word out loud would tell him its meaning.

“Even Rangers of the Kingdom deserve gentle hands and smiles. Even if they are too badly beaten and concussed to recall their request.”

Eddie’s words aren’t making sense, but what they do is make his heart beat faster for some reason other than shame and embarrassment. He presses his lips together and tries to find his voice.

When he finds it again, it’s barely more than a whisper hidden in the moonlight. “Allow me to return the favour, then. Rest, Eddie. Find some sleep while I ensure it is safe.”

Something shifts in those black eyes and Steve wants to chase it. Eddie cast in silver light of the moon is different than the golden figure of the past days. Less imposing and more… fragile. Gone is the teasing, replaced with something more… More. It suits him, the light of the moon, as much as it makes Steve’s heart and mind race.

“Will you smile at me still?” Eddie asks at last, and even the darkness cannot veil the quiver in his voice.

Steve is reminded of something he must have dreamed of earlier, but he cannot focus on that, not with the way the moonlight catches in those dark curls that have managed to slip out of the band keeping his hair bound at the back of his skull. Not with the way it illuminates the twitch of his lip or the impossible way he is looking at Steve still.

“Always,” he says before he can even think about it. Always, he thinks. However long that may yet be.

Another smile twitches and tugs at the bard’s lips, lingering in its nature as he closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall behind them. It can’t be comfortable, and Steve has half a mind to offer his own lap, but there is something about seeing Eddie so calm. He doesn’t dare to interrupt him.

He waits until Eddie’s breathing has evened out before he gives in to the urge to brush the treacherous curl behind his ear. It leaves his fingertips with a tingling sensation that makes him want to do it again, so he does. Sitting there, trying to breathe through his broken ribs and his fluttering heart, Steve doesn’t dare to do it a third time, as much as he yearns for it.

He rests his own head against the wall, too, and watches the bard, because watching him is easier than letting his gaze wander and be reminded of the situation they’re all in.

The moonlight guides his gaze towards Eddie even as he tries to look away, and Steve watches as it caresses the bard’s features in such a way as though that is what it has been sent here to do.

It makes Steve smile even as the ache in his chest grows stronger. He is starting to realise what this is, and he’s too weak to fight it. Not in this prison cell, not in this foreign country where the sun is out to kill you and the moon will watch you shiver helplessly.

How could he fight the moonlight and its tender caress, the world tinged in silver as he lets it work its magic on him? Only a fool would be able to resist.

“Steve.”

He just barely manages not to flinch as Jim’s rasping voice rips him away from his musing – no, his yearning. Turning his head, he finds his eyes in the dark, though he can’t make out any question or command in them. Has Jim caught him? Does his old mentor know his thoughts regarding the bard, has he seen the twitch in Steve’s fingers as he refused to let them reach out and touch?

Jim’s silence is as good a command as any, and summoning all his might not to let his face betray the pain shooting through his body, Steve gets up with a suppressed groan and walks over to his old mentor.

As slowly as possible without giving away the pain that feels like his ribcage is being both torn apart and pressed together, he sits down beside Jim, guiltily thanking the swollen eye and the darkness, for he seems none the wiser to Steve’s injury.

“Don’t do that again.”

Steve freezes, his thoughts tumbling over themselves trying to figure out what exactly Jim refers to — the guilt still warring inside him insists that there are many things he should not have done.

“What do you mean?” he asks, feeling like he is but a green student again, getting berated by his mentor after he did something wrong.

“Take a beating for me. I understand why you would do it for the others, but—”

“Jim,” he tries to interrupt him with a gentle sigh, but the old man won’t have it.

“No, Steve. They hate me more than you, we don’t need you riling them up and making things worse for yourself.”

“I will not let them break your arms and ribs, James. I can take it, I’m—”

“If you say you’re younger, Steven, I’m going to throw you out of the window..”

An innocent grin spreads his lips and he inclines his head, meeting Jim’s good eye. “But I am.”

He sees the hand coming, shooting out from below, but his range of motion and reflexes are still heavily impacted by his injuries that he can’t manage to get out of Jim’s reach in time. Before he knows it, Steve loses his balance and falls flat on his back without any grace but with all the more agonising pain.

Nobody would have been able to hide broken ribs and a nearly split skull like this, but Steve still mentally kicks himself as the wheezing groan of pain leaves his lips.

All traces of mirth leave Jim’s expression and everything turns into worry as he, too, sits up with a groan to check over his former apprentice.

“By the Gods, Steve, are you okay?”

Another groan that is supposed to be somewhere between “Just peachy” and “Fuck off”, but even that sound is pathetic with the way the air has been pushed out of his lungs at the impact. All he manages is a whimper, and he doesn’t try to open his lips for more than that.

He doesn’t even attempt to sit up this time, can only try to catch his breath and breathe through the agony with more wheezing, rattling whimpers. Hands hover over him in the dark, but he shakes his head rapidly, scared that Jim would try to touch and feel the injury, only to find a broken rib or two. Or five, at this point.

His lungs don’t work right and he can’t quite catch his breath. It is only experience that tells him this is normal, this will pass, he will breathe right again. Hopefully.

“For God’s sake, why would you hide an injury like that, Steve? Why would you… You idiot!”

There is movement around him in the cell, the others waking up from Jim’s anger and worry and guilt, but Steve keeps his eyes closed lest the tears fall.

“Breathe,” Jim tells him, and Steve finds that to be a wonderful idea, actually, so he tries. And he tries again. “Yes, good. Breathe, Steve. It’s all going to be fine, you’ll get through this.”

“Have to,” he presses, barely any sound to his wheezing. “So you can throw me out of the window.”

“Fucking moron,” Jim mutters, though Steve can hear the emotion in these two words. It makes him smile despite the situation.

“S–sorry,” he wheezes again, and trusts that Jim understands that he means more than his sarcastic retorts or the hiding of the wounds. Sorry for losing Will again. Sorry for not saving Elanor in time. Sorry for failing the mission. Sorry for being weaker than you need me to be. Sorry for—

“It’s alright, Steve,” Jim promises and there are fingers in his hair again, wetness running down his cheek. Did the fall open his head injury again? The situation must truly be dire if Jim is being outright gentle and worried. “Just don’t do it again. Let me take them next time.”

He wheezes again, but won’t make that promise. If their captors come back, he knows he won’t sit and watch them hurt his friends, won’t sit and watch them treat Jim the same way they treated him on the journey here.

It takes a moment for the world to right itself again and for the cell to become quiet, but somehow Steve manages to get his breathing under control and the pain subsides from agonising to miserable, like before. He rolls his head and looks at Jim through a blurriness in his eyes that he has to blink away.

“You think we’ll make it out of this alive?”

Maybe it’s the pain clouding his mind, maybe it’s the darkness that has always made it easier to ask such questions, but Steve finds the words falling from his lips easier than they should have.

Jim’s expression that just a moment ago has been filled with worry and anger sobers now, and Steve doesn’t quite like what he sees.

“Will is still out there,” he says, evading the question and answering it in the same moment.

“Yeah. He is,” Steve says, not sure if he believes it or not. Not sure if it changes anything. “You’re right.”

They stare at each other for a moment, the moonlight catching Jim’s eyes in a way that highlights the emotions in them. The desperate hope that Will is out there, alive, and reunited with his sister — they have their ways of finding each other against all odds. Always have. Steve likes to believe that they won’t stop now, that a desert can’t keep them apart. That they found friendly faces who won’t betray them, and bring them home.

Bring them home even when Steve and Jim can’t follow them. And Maxine. Princess Elanor would turn the desert into an ocean before she left Maxine to die. But down in their cell, the ocean would leave them to drown all the same.

Jim has hope, though, and Steve decides to follow his mentor again. Just for tonight, when all he feels is pain, when his head is being split open, his chest crushed and bursting, his limbs bloodied and bruised. Just for tonight, he will allow himself not to think, not to worry, and to trust Jim blindly like he did all those years ago.

“Sleep, Steve,” Jim says then, and only now does Steve realise how tired he is, his eyes closed long ago.

He spends a brief moment thinking about Eddie and the promise he made the bard to be there when he wakes up. It’s silly, because he’s merely a few feet away, but it still hurts to have abandoned him to lie there by himself while everyone else has company. When he never moved while Steve himself was asleep.

“You should sleep, too, Ranger.” A sudden wave of warmth washes over him when he hears that voice with its foreign inflections. “You both need your rest, I can stay awake for some time to keep watch and wake you up at the first sign of danger.”

“Eddie, I really don’t mind—“

“I insist, Ranger James. You two have taken the most of their hatred and displays of power, it’s the least I can do.”

Jim seems to hesitate for a moment, but Steve doesn’t open his eyes to look. His lids have become far too heavy, even heavier still when a certain hand is back in his hair to comb through it in even movements, mindful of his wounds. He doesn’t fight the secret smile this time.

“Well, if you insist, bard,” Jim finally concedes, never one to really pass up an opportunity for sleep. “Good night to you, then.”

“Goodnight, my friend,” Eddie says in that calm, kind manner of his that is still new to them, and Steve feels as though he breathes easier for it. “And you, Steven,” he lowers his voice, appearing closer now, “truly are a fool.”

“Oh?” he says, wishing that it wouldn’t hurt to laugh or even just to huff. “What happened to brave, kind-hearted, and whatever else you said earlier?”

“You can have those back when you stop lying about being injured.”

“Keep them then,” he says, and it’s meant in jest, but that doesn’t translate well when you barely have enough strength left for a voice, he finds.

“Sleep,” Eddie repeats, gentler this time, though he sighs long and hard after. “You impossible man.”

It makes Steve smile again, even as an impenetrable darkness wraps around him.

He’s sure that the hum and the whispered, “I see you’re keeping your promise still,” are figments of his imagination, his tired mind playing tricks on him. But it’s a dream he likes to sink into, filled with moonlit skin, gentle hands, and kind words.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume@steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround@pukner@i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently) and also @ashipwreckcoast and @universal-gay and @marismorar bc you asked me to post the thing (and also b!)

#steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #this isn't really anything but also it's everything to me rn like it's literally what keeps me sane i go about my day and think of them #and all the tenderness and angst in that prison cell #this is a ranger's apprentice inspired au if you will but nobody knows what that is in my experience lmaoo #dio words #sorry tag list gang this aint really a thing you don't have to look at this i'm really just posting this for three (3) people who asked

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hyperfixiation-station · 4 months

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Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Information Pt.3

TW: Blood, Torture, Violence

Summary: You get rescued(finally)

Part 1, Part 2

Silent. From the moment Price had found you in that dingy cell, broken and bleeding, that was all you had been. You were silent when they moved you, though it had to have hurt with how many broken bones and lacerations you had. You were silent when the medics asked you where you were injured, how you had been hurt. You were silent through the debriefings, through the desperate attempts to find out what you had been through, what secrets you had spilled. You were silent through all of it.

It wasn’t your fault, not really. A mental barrier you had constructed during months of torture to keep secrets from spilling, a dam built with a mantra of DON’T TALK to keep your thoughts at bay as your captors repeatedly tried to draw them out of you.

Even now, when the rational part of your brain knew you were safe, knew that these men, the men you served with, the men who had tracked you down and saved you, were to be trusted, the barrier would not fall.

Every ‘what did they want from you, what did you see, did you recognize them, how many of them were there’ was met with silence. Anytime you opened your mouth you were hit with a wave of fear so strong it sent you into a panic attack.

They understood, in part. They had seen recordings, seen the rooms, seen your broken body at the time of rescue.

It took them 2 days to get to you after figuring out your location. They went in guns blazing, and tore the place to the ground. They split up, Price and Gaz taking the left with Soap and Ghost taking the right. They shot at anything that moved in their quest for vengeance, breaking down doors and checking every nook and cranny for where you might be locked up.

Price found you about a quarter of the way into the camp. He took the bottom floor and Gaz took the top as they cleared the building. He had stopped before a door that was different, metal and welded shut with a small little flap in the middle, instead of solid and wooden like the others. It took him and Gaz some prying and metalwork, but they got the door open.

Price almost cried when his eyes adjusted to the change in light. You lay curled in the corner, back to the wall as you shied away from the light. Your hair was tangled and matted with dried blood, your clothes were torn and dirty and your skin was crusted with so much blood and grime that he couldn’t even see you underneath it.

“Y/n?” He had called, but there was no response. He crept slowly toward you, keeping his movements as open and relaxed as possible. He crouched in front of you, taking note of your dilated pupils, sunken eyes, obviously malnourished form. He winced at the weird bulges in your skin, indicative of broken bones.

“Sorry love.” He whispered to you, taking a steadying breath as he slid his arms under you and lifted. Hise expected you to cry out, the action no doubt causing unspeakable pain, but you didn’t. In fact, you didn’t react at all. He didn’t dwell on it then, opting to get you somewhere safe and secure.

“9 broken ribs, a broken left femur, both shoulders dislocated, pneumonia, dehydration and severe malnutrition, multiple lacerations that required stitches, broken wrists, all 10 fingers broken, right kneecap dislocated, multiple concussions, and a hairline fracture on their skull.” The doctor had said. It hurt all of them to hear how badly wounded you were.

They gave you two weeks to recover before asking any questions. The first week you were unconscious, in a coma as your body tried to heal you. The second week you spent in worrying silence, saying nothing to anyone, not to your doctors, not to your teammates, not to your friends.

Price sent Ghost in first. He had had similar experiences and Price figured he would be able to relate. However when Ghost came storming out an hour later, slamming the door behind him, he came to regret that decision.

“I got over it.” He had said, “Why can’t they?” Price reminded him that not everyone responds to trauma the same way and sent him away.

Soap tried next, and came out near tears after sending you into a panic attack after calling you ‘Little Bird’. He was confused until Ghost not-so-gently reminded him of the video they had seen, of the words ‘Pretty Bird’ being used over and over. Ghost pretended not to hear him throwing up in the toilet later.

Gaz tried, to no avail. He ended up just sitting in silence with you, showing you videos of his cats. He counted it a victory when your busted lips twitched into a tiny grin for a few seconds.

And on and on it went, with refusing to speak to anyone. They were losing hope until the psychiatrist finally spoke with you.

“GIve them time.” She said gently, “You trying to force a response will just make this worse.”

So they do. The higher-ups still want answers, of course, but Price manages to dissuade them from asking until you are out of the hospital. They spend the weeks treating you as normal as possible, stopping by to give you updates on missions, show you a video of Soap absolutely biffing it in training, tell you the latest gossip of which recruit is sleeping with who. But even though they are trying, they still handle you with kiddie gloves, afraid that the wrong word or look will make you shatter irreversibly.

Which brings you to now. It’s nearly 2 A.M, and visiting hours are long over as you stand unsteadily in the bathroom, staring at your pale, pathetic form in the mirror. You open and close your mouth, trying and failing to get words out, the barrier cemented in your mind by blood and tears too strong to break down.

‘Speak, you stupid fucking bitch!’ You scream mentally at yourself, ‘You have to speak! If you don’t you'll be discharged and you'll never be able to serve again! They already think you’re broken, and if you can’t tell them different they’ll never treat you the same. Stop. being. So. Fucking. Pathetic.’

Tears streak your cheeks as you slide down the wall. You draw your knees up, hiding your face in them as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. Rationally, you know you are safe. Rationally, you know that if you were to speak, nothing would happen. But it’s not the rational part of your brain that is keeping you from speaking.

Going dark in that hellhole you were trapped in had saved your life, and you couldn’t seem to get past it. Sure, not responding had almost killed you right at first, as Kravchenko became more and more ruthless in his attempts to get you to speak again, but eventually he grew bored. His little plaything had lost its sparkle, and he locked you in a cell and threw away the key as soon as he lost interest. But starving to death was still a better alternative to the all-consuming agony that had been your day-to-day.

And now, the subconscious, irrational part of your brain was convinced that if you spoke you’d be dragged right back and strapped to a table, that you’d wake up to find that your rescue had all been a dream. That you-

“-/n! Y/N! Y/N!” You flinch, startled out of your reverie. You look down to see rivulets of blood running down your arms, your nails having gouged holes into your skin. You look up to see the eyes of a worried nurse, holding your hands in hers.

“There you are. We lost you for a minute. Do you mind letting me bandage you up here?” Her voice is soft and gentle and you find yourself nodding, letting her lead you back to your bed where she cleans and bandages your upper arms.

“What are you doing up so late sweetie?” Her voice is calming, almost hypnotic, “I mean, I’m awake cause I get paid to be, but you should be sleeping all your injuries away, shouldn’t you dearie? If I was you, I’d of been cryin’ too, being awake at 2 A.M. for free.” She laughs, the sound echoing through the room, “Course, I suppose you probably think I’m crazy for agreeing to work this shift anyways. Did you know I was supposed to have this shift off? But Roberta’s kids have the flu and so I agreed-” She keeps talking, her voice soothing your fears and helping you relax. YOu can’t help but mentally thank Roberta’s kids for being sick, for sending this wonderful lady who does not treat you like you're going to break at any moment to you tonight.

“And that should about do it dearie. Just press that little call button if you need any more help, alright?” She says cheerfully. She squeezes your hand and heads to the door before pausing.

“Make sure to get some sleep.” She leaves, gently closing the door behind her. Something about her makes you feel safer than you have since falling off that helicopter. Maybe it was her motherly demeanor, maybe it was the fact that she treated you like a normal human being, maybe it was the fact that she could have put you on a psych hold an ddin;t, but whatever it was, you loved her for it.

And as the door closes and the room stills, you whisper a quiet “thanks.”

Part 4?

~tags~

@louthedino @scarletdfox @dangerkitten1705 @warenai @spineless-spino @rainy-darling

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the-witchhunter · 5 months

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DP x DC Dead Soulmates

This is probably the only soulmate au I'll ever do so enjoy

Soulmate au where your soul mark turns black when your soulmate dies

Danny and Jason are soulmates. The problem? Both of their soul marks are black. Sure, they came back, but not in a typical way, so each thinks the other is dead

So what do we get? Longing. Two guys longing for a love they thought lost to them, thinking tenderly of a future they don't think they could have, even without the added craziness of their lives. Standing on rooftops, smoking in the cold november air, their breath indistinguishable from the smoke, their spent cigarettes flicked off the edge like discount shooting stars, lamenting their fates, probably to each other for the dramatic irony of it all

they both get it. The quiet kind of grief, longing for somebody they never got the chance to know, thinking about how things could have been different, how the should have been different. That understanding is what draws them towards each other

and then? Jason sees Danny's mark, Jason shows his own, they stare at each other, silent for a moment, before arms wrap around the other, lips pressed together, and quiet tears fall like rain to the rooftop beneath their feet

longing, angst, and then happy ending

and you can thank this song for inspiring the mood for this

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #writing prompt #writing #dpxdc #soulmate au #dead on main #i usually don't like soulmate au's so probably the only one I'm ever going to do #they kind of act as shortcuts to get characters together #which tends to skip my favorite parts of romance focused fics #so taste wise they just don't scratch the itch for me usually #but if i can give them years of angst...#idk something about actually having them emotionally process the fact they think they'll never get to meet their other #the person perfectly suited to them #having them suddenly get together seems worth it to me #i also really like this song #Spotify

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54625 · 1 month

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people can keep coming up with angsty headcanons about why qPac passes out (crashes) so much- like he's got low blood pressure from not eating properly or he's exhausted from not sleeping properly- and I accept that

but to me he's just that one character in a kids movie that keeps getting injured as a gag. like he's just constantly tripping over roots and whacking his head off the ground, birds just constantly seem to drop rocks specifically on his head, people just keep inexplicably slamming doors into his face without realising it. qPac is just such a cartoon character to me I'm sorry

#ah the age old question- character angst or funny gag? tis a tough decision #qsmp #pactw #qsmp pactw #qsmp headcanons #if i can rant a tad bit here for a second - I'm not really huge on angsty headcanons or fan content about qPac I'll be honest #so much of his character and story in canon itself already feels just like.. idk how to explain it. misery porn?#he's sad and traumatised and things just keep going wrong for him #it gets a little tiring after a while #I'm not a huge fan of stories where the entire point is EVERYTHING SUCKS <an insane sentence from a WH40K fan but that's besides the point #anyway point is i like letting qPacs character breathe a bit #there's more to him than being the resident sad boy #and i don't love treating him like his only character trait is being extremely unfortunate cause it's just kinda boring #i don't have any huge moral problems with it it's just kinda boring #pactw tag

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joyfuladorable · 3 months

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Fuck it, here's all my favorite Mikey-centric fanfics!!

There's A LOT + personal blurbs, so they're going under the cut (Mostly AO3, but there are some FFN links, too. Also, besides like the first two, there's no favoritism in the order)

2k3:

Pretend That I Never Left by redstringraven(sirimiri) - Complete/Plans for an Epilogue & Sequel!!

Fic that changed my BRAIN?! If my fanart [1 | 2 | 3] for it is any indicator, lol. I'll say for the umpteenth time that if you're looking for an Excellent Mikey fic with Perfect Characterization, this is IT (and you don't need to know ANYTHING about HZD trust me TRUST ME this fic deserves WAY more love) His swift ride-or-die friendship with Aloy will melt your damn heart!

Dragon of the Sun by ForestWhisper3 - Ongoing

My Other TOP favorite Mikey fic!! Again, fanart [1 | 2 | 3] indicator! Slow Burn(ish) Canon Divergence of Mikey unlocking his Mystic Powers as his family looks on in dismay as they struggle to protect him. The Good Shit!!!

Of Darkness And Light by Bayluff - Complete

OOOOOOO THIS ONE! Very good (also drew fanart for it)! Evil creature literally trying to consume Mikey's lifeforce from within as his family scrambles to help

A Chat With The Titan by secreterces5 - Complete

Mikey has a fun one-on-one talk with the supposedly reformed Bishop in Fast Forward. Mikey vaguely threatening Bishop, HEEHEE

A Simple Act Of Kindness by UlisaBarbic - Complete

That feel when you put your worth in what you can DO and the wish to be Acknowledged and the ONE thing you thought you did right was taken away OOGH AGH OOOOGH

Difficulty Breathing by RealityBreakGirl - Complete

Mikey did not come out of Grudge Match unscathed *smile* Truly one of my favorite 03 Mikey prompts to read about (honestly just check the entirety of the Grudge Match tag on AO3 for a fun time)

"A delivery boy! Uh, or turtle." by LollyHolly99 - Complete

Fic that has the distinction of being the first one I ever did fanart for! Gender Feels for Mikey cuz they're just like me FR!!

What Darkness Most Fears by UlisaBarbic - Complete

OOOGH AGH I LOVE THIS ONE!! Mikey has to save his bros from the clutches of an evil spirit while surviving horrifying monsters and battling a wicked fever!

Michelangelo by ForestWhisper3 - Complete

Mikey through the eyes of his family and how much they respect him and know him UwU

Mikey's Jigsaw by SailorSaysAhoy - Complete

Another awesome gender Mikey fic HOOHAA

Train-Wreck of Thought by halogalopaghost - Complete

When you're so talented you learn how to astral project but you start using it for pranks instead of understanding the drawbacks of said power and that bites you majorly in the ass big time (very good my stomach turned while reading this /pos)

A Brother's Bond by SuperKat - Complete

Mikey gets Real Sick and the fam can't help but remember last time one of them got so ill. OH MAN heartstrings WILL be pulled in this one!!

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year by moogsthewriter - Complete

Why can't Mikey ever catch a break during Christmas! A short fic that I enjoy Immensely for Mikey being stubbornly heroic and his family desperately trying to play catch up to help him

Questioning Choices by Mystic Medjai - Complete

Fun day at the beach goes catastrophically bad and the fam has to make difficult decisions to keep Mikey alive. THIS THIS THIS!! If I could pour this into my veins for the perfectly paced plot and characterization...

When It Counts by Kallasilya - Complete

Short fic of Mikey stubbornly and bitterly proving his brothers wrong (+ Don being a good brother)

Favourite Disease by devirnis - Complete

Mikey is forced to save his brothers as his body gradually falls apart from the inside. SO GOOD UGH Mikey being forced to deal with situations on his own always show how far he can Shine!

Nowhere Boy by taizi - Complete

OOOH I dunno how I can summarize this without giving the plot away but just know Mikey pulls through by thinking of his family

To Fit the Crime by T33la - Complete

AHHH AHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHHHHH!! Mikey is accused of Murder and receives his sentence before his brothers can even jump to his defense! Oh the twists and turns of this murder mystery!!

you want to know why i sit and sigh (the night is so young it hurts) by love_killed_the_superstar - Complete

Angel and Mikey bonding over comics and unsupportive brothers So Cute)

imma be real with you (cause i started being real with me) by love_killed_the_superstar - Complete

Leo and Usagi being supportive of Mikey as he struggles to train for the upcoming Battle Nexus fight (and also maybe they flirt with each other a teensy bit)

just a hop, skip, and a jump away by baba_buoy - Complete

Mikey sick fic. Heart melting amounts of comfort UwU

Weak Link by yellowhollyhock - Complete

Sweet fic of Mikey feeling insecure about his place on the team, and Leo going through great lengths to prove him wrong like a good older brother :')

'Cause you are the sun, he is your moon/And though he can't speak, he will thank you soon by naivesilver - Complete

Post-Grudge Match Mikey waking up in the middle of the night bitter and sore and gods damn why's Raph awake, too?

Hunted by DysfunctionalRequest - Complete

Mikey wandering the woods alone in the middle of the night and having a VERY unfortunate encounter with hunters

Flipbook by T33la - Complete

Heartfelt moment between Mikey and Don concerning SAINW that makes me want to smash a cinder block against my head /pos

Dramaturgy by Completely_Unaware - Ongoing

Mind the tags! Mikey deals with a Battle Nexus loss in an unhealthy way (UmU)

The Red Means I Love You (Work) by AnonymousCritter - Ongoing

MIND THE TAGS! AU of Fast Forward. Mikey isn't saved from the traffickers in time and things spiral from there

The So-Called "Champion of the Battle Nexus" by 0ozero0 - Ongoing

Grudge Match canon divergence where Mikey gets hurt a little more seriously than in canon (but still wins)

2012:

Devil took your hand by moogsthewriter & taizi - Complete

Mikey mind controlled by the Shredder moment!! *laughs through my pain and tears and screaming*

walk with open hands by taizi - Complete

Mikey gets his hands on one of Renet's watches and things go topsy turvy from there (and it HURTS ME)

(un)reality by SpectrumWriting - Complete

Mind the Tags! Dimension X AU where Mikey is captured by the Kraang and is put through the wringer in more ways than one (OWIE)

evermore (Dimension X AU) series by coffeejellyenthusiast - Complete?

Mind the Tags! Mikey was in Dimension X for over a year and he's NOT OKAY

Gravitational Collapse series by Writing_In_Denial - Ongoing

MIND THE TAGS!! An Incredible it gets worse before it gets better series of Mikey being unintentionally abandoned by his brothers post-series and dealing with some Major Isolation and OOOGH IT HURTS ME SO MUCH BUT I WILL KEEP READING FOR THE EVENTUAL COMFORT

traveling so far to get there by taizi - Complete

Mikey and Raph getting stuck in an empty, post-apocalyptic world and struggling to survive (their BOND IN THIS IS SO SWEET WEH)

Rise:

nice, nice by postergirlsprank - Complete

Short fic of Casey Sr and Mikey bonding after an unfortunate encounter while on a snack run (Hey if you want more context for how this author writes Casey, go read his fic Imperfect Animals too heehoo)

either way, we're not alone by sinaesthesis - Complete

Mikey throughout the years of the Kraang Apocalypse (Lots of Loss and Hurt and Badassery)

going under by redhairedmuses - Complete

Mikey almost drowns during a fight with a mutant

Hyperactive Hypothermia by VeryAngryGremlin - Complete

After Mikey's winter wear accidentally goes in flames and a villain-enduced avalanche, Donnie struggles to keep his baby brother warm

that’s where the blood’s supposed to be! by Dragon_Scales_and_Fairy_Tales - Complete

With Raph and Leo constantly bickering, Mikey ignores a very serious injury after a fight with Meat Sweats

Clever Little Dino! by VeryAngryGremlin - Complete

Mikey trying to keep a robot pet a secret and suffering the consequences

Vs The World by DysfunctionalRequest - Complete

The aftermath of the Kraang strains the family's bonds, and Mikey feels hopelessly alone (and definitely isn't dealing with his trauma properly)

Empathy Amplified by Filsamek - Complete

When you accidentally use your powers to connect with your brothers' emotions then purposefully use them to ease their pain

Sunshine in the Rain by Carnati0n_bl00m - Complete

Probably the first fic I read after watching the Rise movie cuz I wanted to find something Mikey-centric involving Bishop and BOY does it deliver with the additional bonus of Leatherhead!! (also hey look fanart)

A Mystic Connection by rytheoneandonly - Complete

Mikey's mystic powers manifesting and evolving in ways he could never predict (aka Long Fic of Mikey stumbling to figure out why he wakes up exhausted and hurt every night)

The whole world in your corner series by GibbousLunation - Complete

Two fics of Mikey being Mikey and his bros being protective

Better Check Twice by Marz_Zero - Ongoing

Bishop captures a turtle with a bear trap (OW) and is an absolute bastard about it

Come Home Soon by Sherlock_Brolmes - Ongoing

With his brothers unavailable, Mikey (with the help of a former enemy) uncovers a massive conspiracy involving New York and the Hidden City. I LOVE THIS I LOVE SOLO DUO TEAM-UPS!!!! *PUNCHES THE AIR 13 TIMES*

Mikey's Artistic Guide to Dealing with Trauma and Fame by Origami_Nami - Ongoing

Mikey using graffiti as an outlet and accidentally becoming famous

Rook by unorthodoxx - Ongoing

Another Bishop fic of him outwitting the turtles to abduct one of them (Mikey)

Multi/Other:

Mystic Malfunction by VanillaVengeance - Ongoing

Rise Mikey accidentally portals himself to the 2012 Universe and struggles to survive and avoid this other version of his family (with mixed success). The progression of familial bonds in this is just *Chef's Kiss*

The Gauntlet by T33la - Complete

A mix of IDW & 03, a wonderful showcase of how Donnie and Mikey support each other (also, a cool invention and a big rocket and a terrifying near-death experience are involved)

I Get Knocked Down (But I Get Up Again) by Justalittleobsessed - Ongoing

MIND THE TAGS!!! Set in its own original iteration, Mikey has been immortal for as long as he can remember, and he's used to his occasional deaths (and revivals). But then his brothers find out... (AGH AGH THIS ALSO HURTS MEEEEE BUT OOGH the comfort and hope of the later chapters is so Worth It)

Whumptober 2023 series by Justalittleobsessed - Ongoing?

Collection of Mikey-centric one-shots from different iterations and feeling the HURT (Personal favorites are If Only the World Could Stop Spinning..., Just a Flesh Wound, and Not the Best of Days)

To Know Peace (You Gotta Let Go) by Deadpool1763492 - Ongoing (technically)

The Last Ronin Spoilers!! Mikey survives and whisks the new turtle tots away to live on a farm instead of being raised as soldiers. (AUUUUUU THE FEELS!! THE TOTS! MIKEYYYY!!!)

How to accidentally kidnap yourself several times over by Camildeni - Ongoing

Rise Mikey gets captured and accidentally summons other iterations (03, 12, and Bay) of himself trying to get out! They do NOT have a good time!! (but at least they have each other)

the dad diaries by angelmichelangelo - Ongoing

More TLR Mikey being a Dad (and dealing with his trauma sorta kinda)

The neighboring cell by SaltyYagi - Ongoing

2012 Mikey and Rise Leo trying to escape Dimension X together (and bonding)

Bonus Non-Mikey-centric:

Weathered Strings, Tethered Wings by Deadpool1763492 - Ongoing

(2003) SAINW AU!!! With the possibility of Don being alive dangled in front of them, the remaining turtles begrudgingly reunite to save him. Drew a cover for this with more art to come! LOVING the slow burn of reconciliation between these bitter old turtles UwU (Bitter Old Mikey my poor Bestie)

Mutant Nightmare by HamsterMasterSamster - Complete

(2003) The immediate aftermath of Worlds Collide

Hanging By A Turtle by CamsthiSky - Complete

(Rise) Literally the turtles struggling to get out of a deep pit they're hanging over

Shell Game by T33la - Complete

(2003) OKAY OKAY SO!!! OOGH Don encounters something Impossible while prepping a tracking device (for himself) and it snowballs into another Renet-involved time adventure (AND UMMM lots of existential contemplation and a surprise historical guest who's Very Cool)

Turtle Power by halogalopaghost - Complete

(2003) Immediate aftermath of the star ship reactor explosion in Exodus

Disposable by orphan_account (kudos to you wherever you are, author) - Complete

(2003) Bishop captures Don and Mikey and gives them a terrible choice

Dissection by AmevelloBlue - Complete

(2003) So much Comfort after the trauma of Worlds Collide (ie Don's interrogation and Mikey almost getting sliced open)

Find the Road by SillySocks - Complete

(2003) Perfect encapsulation of the family as they cope with Leo's absence while he trains with the Ancient One

Handle with Care by HamsterMasterSamster - Complete

(2003) April is seriously injured during a mission and has to deal with the turtles distancing themselves from her as she recovers

mind-body problem by hiraethseok - Complete

(2003) April and the Turtles Being Siblings the Fic

Healing in Tandem by Eggstasy - Complete

(2003) Canon divergence of Worlds Collide where Splinter is just a little too late to intervene before Bishop starts sawing into Mikey's shell

Let's Take Ibuprofen Together by GreenGoddessSmoothie - Ongoing

(2003) The turtles swap body and have learn to cope with each other's chronic pain

Not the Face I Know by GreenGoddessSmoothie - Ongoing

(2003) Mikey accidentally makes a wish that changes his family's lives forever (THEY'RE HUMAN THEY BECOME HUMAN AND THE PLOT IS COOL AND ALSO QUEER THEMES MY BELOVED)

The Great Skittle Heist of 2105 by AmevelloBlue - Ongoing

(2003) AU of Fast Forward where the Dark Turtles are babies instead and are very swiftly adopted by the Fam

The Labyrinth by HALFnHALF1 - Ongoing

(Mix of IDW/03) The Turtles wake up separated in a labyrinth with only a mysterious voice in their heads to guide them (and manipulate them)

“You didn’t tell me your extended family was in town!” by BoStaffsAreCool - Ongoing

Post-Turtles Forever. The 03 fam is Just beginning to wind down after the events of the movie and look who's knocking at April's door (the 87 turtles)

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #tmnt Mikey #fic recs #bamf mikey #all day every day #hurt/comfort #angst #whump #no hurt/no comfort though!!! I don't really like fics where it's doom and gloom with no comfort catharsis at the end #let me know if I should add Mind the Tags to other fics my gauge for hurt is a little wonky #lots of gender feels for 2k3 Mikey because that's just who he is #I added the bonus fics cuz I wasn't gonna make a separate post for them so cope and enjoy if you wanna #sorry there's not that many 12 or even Rise ones I don't look for those as much as 03 (I am biased lol)#wow can y'all believe I started drafting this in like May of Last Year???#anyways anyways I'll update this whenever I find another good Mikey fic #feel free to drop Mikey fic recs in my askbox and I'll let you know if I've tried reading them or not (I probably have)#lokibeann if you're reading this sorry it took longer than I said it would to post this I underestimated how long it would take and-#overestimated my ability to remember the plots of the ones I haven't read in a while lol

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