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theuniversein-you · 2 years

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you as the 8th nct dream member

✧ ˚ nct dream react to: you falling off the stage

✧ ˚ genre: oneshot, idol!au, amab!reader, angst, fluff

✧ ˚ warning: injury

✧ ˚ disclaimer: THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. the characters do not reflect the personality of the actual artists themselves, and should be treated as separate beings.

✧ ˚ author notes: rushed bc i have personal things, and ive been thinking of posting drabbles as often as possible. very sorry if i wasn’t able to update as frequent as i could :(

✧ ˚ word count: 1.4k words

You didn’t know what transpired before the incident. You’ve been so focused on the performance that you didn’t notice how near you were at the end of the stage, and worst of all, you were at the back so it’s not like your members would notice immediately.

The moment you crashed to the ground was when the staff rushed after you. The pain that came from crashing from your side made you cry in pain. You were being escorted off the ground, being careful not to put pressure to the pain. You gripped your arm, gritting your teeth as the sharp feeling of knives ran through the arm.

But it wasn’t the pain that caused your eyes to tear up, but the guilt that’s creeping up inside you. One of the worst feelings that an idol could feel is being responsible for a performance being disrupted, and you hated that feeling. You felt bad to your members who continued to perform as you were whisked away to the back, to be tended by the medics.

At the backstage, your legs wouldn’t stop fidgeting, and your hands started to sweat. You await anxiously for your members, and preparing yourself to be scolded by one of the managers for what happened.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

ミ★ Mark. Unaware of the incident, Mark was confused when you were missing from the stage. He tried asking the members discreetly about your whereabouts, but it wasn’t until Chenle approached him, terrified. He was about to ask the younger what was wrong until he told him what happened to you. Mark wanted to run backstage to see you, but he knows he has to stay and thank the fans first, even with his legs feeling like jelly after hearing the incident. As a leader, he needs to make sure that no member is unsafe, and it’s agonizing for him that he couldn’t do anything to prevent it from happening. Backstage, Mark finds you huddled at a chair, a cast wrapped on your arm. He doesn’t know if he’s going to crowd you any further, since both Jaemin and Renjun already rushed to you faster than anything. He stayed next to you, though, making sure to comfort you when you felt as if you ruined everything. “No, (Y/N), I’m just glad that you’re safe now.” Mark would reassure you that you didn’t ruin everything and tells you that what’s important is your well-being. And maybe, talk to the managers and staff to make sure this never happens again.

ミ★ Renjun. He didn’t hesitate to be the first one to fuss over you. Renjun is most sensitive when it comes to your feelings, and he would almost cry seeing the cast around your arm. He made it easier for you to open up to him about how angry and stupid you feel, the guilt that you were feeling when you let them down, and how scared you were at the thought of disappointing your fans for your mistake. He would listen to you, but he isn’t going to let you feel that way. Renjun was relieved that you were able to open up to him about your feelings, but it still pains him that he couldn’t do anything to easen your mind about what happened. It would mark a horrible experience in your life. But with the immense support you have with your members, you would find yourself to be okay in the future. Renjun would make sure of it. Side note: Haechan would make a comment about how Renjun is your local therapist, but he wouldn’t say that with the latter in the room with him.

ミ★ Jeno. Panic and immense worry is the only thing in his mind when Chenle broke the news about your well-being. Jeno couldn't imagine how you devasted you would be, and he hopes that the injury isn't threatening enough to cost you your career. When he asked you about your condition, you told him that your broke your arm from the fall, but the medics told you that it's not bad enough that'll put you into a long hiatus. He felt himself ease in relief, but is still worried about you. “You should rest, let us handle the rest.” Jeno thinks that you are going to have to rely on them, and that’s okay. He’s not going to let any of his team suffer, whether it is mentally or physically. You would need a lot of convincing though, but eventually you will have to, since you have every members’ support for your recovery no matter what.

ミ★ Haechan. Getting injured is one of the worst feelings an idol could ever imagine. Haechan knows that pretty well, since he's seen his hyungs who had to go on a hiatus because of their health. He cares about your health, but he also doesn't want you to go to a hiatus for an indefinite period of time. You expressed to him before that you hated it if you're going to miss out on any activities Dream has, so you've made sure to keep yourself healthy at all times. So to see you feel so frustrated, angry at your mistake, he felt the need to cheer you up. "It's okay, (Y/N), you're going to be up in no time. You're damn strong to let anything injure you badly." whether you think he was joking or not doesn't matter, because he knows it to himself that he's right, and even slightly, you're able to crack a smile after that.

ミ★ Jaemin. He was the one that didn’t hesitate to run backstage as fast as he could to find you. Just like Renjun, he would fuss over you the moment he sees you. He would almost scold you, but after seeing your dejected expresion, he held his tongue. It was not the best time to make your mood any worst when you’re already beating yourself up for injuring yourself. He would become your helper if you needed something, since your other arm is out of commission for a while. Out of all the members, he can truly relate because of his injury at the past, so he understands how you would be worried about what’s going to come next. But he doesn’t mind taking care of you, if it meant for you speedy recovery and having you back in performances again.

ミ★ Chenle. He was next to you at the back when you fell. Chenle could’ve sworn that you were just next to him, until you were not. He saw your misstep that leads you into falling, which caused him to stop dancing, not knowing what to do. Should he go to you or should he continue performing to remain professional? It wasn’t until he sees Jisung looking at him with confusion that he had to remain professional despite what he witnessed. He has a frazzled expression during the performance, praying for it to be over. When the performance finished, he was the one that told the group what happened. The moment the group returned backstage and reunited with your injured form, he kept his distance from you to not crowd you. Although, another reason is that he was guilty that he couldn’t do anything to help you especially since he saw the incident in the first place. You and his hyungs reassured him for being professional despite being terrified for you. "It was my stupidness that led me to this," you would sheepishly say, but Chenle is going to argue with you if that comes out of your mouth. But at least the both of you are able to be at ease since he knows that you are now okay.

ミ★ Jisung. He was confused when you were missing at the performance and how frazzled Chenle is, who is looking back and forth at the back of the stage and the audience. He would go to his best friend, only for him to shut down any kind of thought when he was told about your unfortunate incident and your unknown condition as of the moment. He could only feel his arm being pulled backstage. Jisung was brought back to the time when he injured his knee and how he couldn’t participate in shows and performances, and he doesn’t want to imagine you being missing, too. While he wouldn’t fuss over you as much as Renjun and Jaemin will, he would keep out a look out for you, although subtlely. He doesn’t want you to tease him when he takes care of you.

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523rdrebel · 6 months

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Chapter 8

Masterlist, Chapter 7

Chapter Summary: The one in which feelings are a struggle, conflict is had, and siblings meddle.

Rating: T, SFW

TW: Lots of angst in this one, Arguments and harsh words, mild cussing

Sunflower Divider by @saradika

Author's note: There's lots of angst in this one, I'm sorry! But it's setting up for the next chapter to be lots of fluff. So, I hope that makes up for it.

The next couple of hours were pure chaos. Isabella contacted Hunter and the rest of the batch to come secure Crosshair and figure out what had happened. Once he’d been moved and secured to a bed, the sight of which practically broke her heart in two, the group gathered around to discuss the best course of action.

Isabella took great care to make Crosshair as comfortable as possible, panic pooling in the pit of her stomach that he would wake before they’d finished. She took her hand-held scanner and began a cranial scan, “Tech, what exactly should I be looking for?”

“Previously, the chip was emitting electrical pulses that mimic that of the brain’s neurons firing, but I was able to identify a .0075 second delay in the chip’s pulse relative to regular neural functioning. Try focusing your scan over here,” Tech points, indicating the scarred area near his temple, “That is where our chips were located.”

Hunter stood, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and a deeply confused expression on his face, “I thought his chip was already removed?”

Tech nodded, “As did I. The scan revealed no signs of an active inhibitor chip.” He motioned to the scarring on Crosshair’s face, “It would seem that the level of scar tissue around the chip interfered with the scanner’s effectiveness.”

Bells observed the results of the scan on her datapad, pointing to the data, “Perhaps the scarring also interfered with the chip’s ability to influence Crosshair. That could explain why it took so long before he was affected.”

“He has had a lot of headaches… Kriff! He’s had a working chip this whole time.” Echo sighed, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Evidently.” Tech joined Bells in reviewing the data from the scans, “I believe you are correct, Doctor, the same scar tissue that blocked the chip from the scanner is precisely what has prevented the chip from maintaining control over Crosshair’s mind.”

She responded hesitantly, her concern obvious, “So…how do we remove it? Safely.”

“Without access to the same facilities that we were able to use, the risk of injury or death is greatly increased. Doctor– Show me your medical database. I need to know what we have to work with.”

After some time, while keeping Crosshair sedated to avoid any further incidents, Tech is able to boost the capabilities of the available facilities, updating the medical database with scans Tech had collected, and fabricating a sort of make-shift operating machine.

Once it had been set up and sufficiently calibrated, it was time to begin.

“Tech you’re absolutely brilliant, but there is still a significant amount of risk without access to the appropriate machines…” Isabella hesitated, worry etched into the downward curve of her lips and the furrowed scrunch of her brow.

Echo placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Can you do it, Tech?”

Tech adjusted his goggles to fit more securely on his face and gave a curt nod, “I have updated the databases and capabilities within our limited resources. That being said- Of course I can do it.”

“Then do it.”

With that, they cleared the room, leaving Tech to his work, with an anxious Doctor Isabella remaining in case he needed assistance.

Crosshair wakes with a groan, blinking rapidly and forcing himself into a sitting position. Memories rush back like a flood, images flashing behind his eyes, an overwhelming cycle of feelings– the pain, the loss of control, fighting the urge, no– the command, to neutralize the threat. He saw the fear in Bells’s eyes, his hands closing around her neck, heard her panicked voice calling to him.

He crashed back into reality as he felt gentle hands on his arm, on his back, guiding and supporting him in case his strength failed. He blinked rapidly, vision clearing to see Bells pull out a scanner and begin her final checks. She sighed in relief, eyes flicking quickly to meet his before returning to whatever the result of the scan indicated.

Crosshair’s face scrunched and his mind raced, so many emotions clouded his mind, but he latched on to one that felt familiar and easy. He was angry. Anger he could do. Anger wasn’t complicated. Anger just burned.

He put a hand up to stop her as Bells reached up to direct his chin, though he was careful not to grab her wrist, not like before. “Don't. Touch. Me.” His voice is a low, vicious growl.

She stopped, shocked eyes scouring his face for answers. She spoke hesitantly, as if afraid to startle him, “I need to finish these checks to make sure nothing was damaged when we removed the chip. I'll be done in just a second–”

“Stop. Let Tech do it.”

“He was trained in field medicine, it's a little diff–”

“He's smart. He'll figure it out.”

“But–” Bells leaned in, trying to catch his gaze. “Crosshair? Talk to me…”

“Why? Want your kriffing project back?” His voice dripped with condescension and venom.

“Cross–” Bells was hesitant, unsure.

Crosshair stood, he hovered over her with fists clenched against the shaking, chest heaving. He looked almost panicked. Then he shook his head and snarled, “What– you think because we kissed that it meant something?”

She froze, this was too swift of a change, her mind couldn’t make the jump. What was happening?

He smiled, a sharp and dangerous grin, with no hint of humor or warmth, “You’re too soft, Bells. This world will break you. I would break you.”

That snapped her out of it for a moment, heat rising on her face as she clapped back, “Yes, I’m soft. But I am not weak. Yes, I’m kind and I care for people. But don’t ever think that that means I don’t understand pain. I know pain.” She takes a deep breath and continues, voice a little softer but certain, “It takes strength to be soft in this world.”

“You know pain… You’re a kriffing ball of sunshine. What do you know!?” His eyes flicked down to the bruises on her neck. Bruises he caused. “Stay away from me, Isabella–”

She watched his eyes lock on the bruises and frowned, “You’re not protecting me by pushing me away, Crosshair! I don’t expect this to be a blue milk run–”

He looked her straight in the eyes, holding it for one intense moment, then sneered. His voice oozed condescension, “You once told me you care what I want. I want you to leave me alone.”

“Gah! You’re so convinced that you're this irredeemable monster, that you think that everyone else should think so, too–”

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart. I am a monster.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster, Crosshair–”

“YOU. CAN’T. FIX ME, BELLS!”

“I’m not trying to! You’re not a monster. Just a soldier. A brother. A man who was used over and over again…”

“You don’t know me…”

“I would if you’d let me.”

“I’m done. We’re done.”

Crosshair watched Bell's face fall, could feel something breaking, but he clenched his teeth harder, preferring to return to the familiar feeling of pain. She left the room quietly and Crosshair ignored the cold feeling in his chest. Tech entered after her observing the whole situation with calculating eyes.

Crosshair pointedly ignored the observant gaze of his brother and submitted silently to his scan. Tech went about his checks in silence, giving Crosshair room to breath and formulate his thoughts. After Crosshair began to relax, his tense muscles loosening slightly, Tech broke the silence, “Dr. Isabella is a very capable woman. There is no reason she could not have done this.” He continued his work, checking the data for any sign of anomaly.

“She should stay away from me.”

Tech responded in his matter of fact way, as he always did when presented with a puzzle, “If you are concerned for her safety, you need not be. Your actions were not your own.” He paused, but Crosshair remained silent so he continued– presenting further evidence, “However, we have successfully removed the inhibitor chip and you are no longer in danger of its effects.”

“Tech. SHUT UP.” Crosshair spit the words like venom. Anger, bitterness, and fear warring for purchase across his face, “The chip was never the problem. It was me.”

“Crosshair-”

“NO.”

“I fail to see–”

“Are we done here?”

Tech sighed, but conceded, “For now, yes.”

Crosshair stood and rushed out of the room, pushed past the crowd that was waiting for him, and stormed out the door. If he noticed the worried, tear stained face of one particular ginger-haired woman, he refused to acknowledge it. Once again, pushing things deep, deep down.

Crosshair stomped down the slick Pabu streets, paying no attention to the rain pouring from a dark, overcast sky. His face was contorted in a profound scowl, tears streaming down his face which he ignored, and his fists clenched painfully. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he couldn’t go home– it was too suffocating. He couldn’t go shoot– there were too many memories, and he couldn’t go to the marauder– that would be the first place they’d look and then there would be too many sympathetic looks and attempts to comfort him. No. He needed to get away. Far away.

His feet carried him through the different quarters of Pabu but he didn’t register a single view. His mind was in turmoil and he felt himself giving in to the dark edges of despair.

You were always meant to cause pain. To kill. To destroy.

You were not made for softness. For kindness.

You are a weapon.

Nothing more.

The chip was just a part of who you are. You cannot escape it.

You cannot be free from it.

IT IS WHO YOU ARE.

A strong breeze whipped past Crosshair, pelting him with heavier drops of rain and nearly causing him to stumble. A bright tinkling sound filled the air, loud and demanding attention as the wind blew through. Crosshair froze. His mind was silent for a moment. Then, he felt the crushing weight of guilt, shame, and white hot anger. Thoughts came crashing back in, filling his mind with a painful buzzing.

You never should have let her get close.

You’re a selfish asshole. It was only a matter of time before you hurt her.

You’re alone now.

It’s better this way…

At some point, his feet found their way home and he collapsed facedown on his bed with no regard for his drenched clothes. Darkness found him in his sleep.

Crosshair wasn’t sure how long he stayed in his bed before the air-dried clothes became too uncomfortable to ignore. Time was blurred and nebulous, he blinked and found himself sitting under a steamy stream of water in the ‘fresher. He blinked again and found himself sitting once again on the edge of his bed. The next blink he could hear loud banging on his door, which he ignored. Eventually, the knocking stopped, but instead of silence came the invasion of his two loudest and most boisterous siblings.

“Cross!” Wrecker bellowed from just inside the front door.

Followed by Omega in a sing-song voice, “Crooooossshaaair!”

Crosshair groaned, it came from deep down within his soul, and rubbed his hands roughly over his face. Wrecker burst into the room, grin so wide it hurt Crosshair’s face just to see it, and grabbed him by his shoulders and forcibly made him stand. “C’mon, we’re going fishing!”

“No.” He managed to grumble. His complaint fell on deaf ears as Wrecker practically hauled him out the door of his own home, pushing a fishing pole into his hands.

Omega was nearly vibrating with excitement, grabbing one of Crosshair’s hands and pulling him into motion. Despite his reluctance, Crosshair didn’t have the strength to care enough to fight so he followed his siblings.

Once they arrived at Wrecker’s fishing spot, it was a small dock that jutted out into the open water, Wrecker helped Omega to bait her hook and safely cast the line. Crosshair sat on the end of the dock, long legs dangling over the water, and leaned back with eyes closed. He tried breathing with the sound of the waves, hoping despite himself that he could drown out the raging thoughts in his mind.

Wrecker sat down next to him, he knew his brother well, knew not to force Crosshair to speak when he was sulking. He slowly prepared his own pole and cast the line into the gentle waters and waited. They stayed like this for a time, with Omega recasting her line once or twice before declaring fishing “boring!” and running off down the beach for something more interesting.

“My chip activated, too…” Wrecker eventually broke the silence. His voice was soft, much softer than Crosshair ever remembered hearing from him.

“Wrecker–”

“It was on Bracca. ’An I– I attacked our squad. Tech. Hunter. Echo. Even little ‘Mega. Kriff! You should’ve seen her face, she was so scared. Of me!” His voice broke, his eyes cast down, “The whole time, I was fighting to stop it. Never felt so weak in my life. It felt like— Like there were two of me and both were right–”

Crosshair ground his teeth, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I’m just saying… I know.” Wrecker put a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder.

Crosshair knew his brother was trying to be comforting, trying to help, but the voice in his mind kept yelling that he didn’t deserve it. What good was comfort to him now?

“You should talk to her, ya know.”

He turned away with a bitter snarl.

Wrecker continued, pushing passed the familiar sharpness of his brooding brother, “She doesn't blame you–”

“Well she should.” He snapped. It was harsh and he knew Wrecker didn’t deserve his ire which only served to further his guilt and regret.

“Did you want to hurt her?”

He was yelling now through clenched teeth, “It doesn't matter! It never matters! What matters is that I DID.”

“Talk to her, Cross.”

“No.” He took a few deep breaths and shook his head, “No. It's better this way.”

“Don't y’think she gets to decide that?”

He stood abruptly and turned on his heel, “I'm going home.”

As Crosshair walked away, his long legs taking huge strides, Wrecker yelled at a distance, “You're coming to the Lifeday Festival on Benduday!”

“BITE ME.”

Laughing loudly he shouted back, “I’ll be there at 6!”

The next few days Crosshair spent periodically at the shooting range, forcefully shutting down the memories of training days and pushing them down into the recesses of his mind. He lost himself in the rhythm of the shot. Target, breathe in, breathe out, shoot, repeat. His mind ran through calculations instantly, factoring wind direction, secondary targets, and trajectory without a second thought.

Eventually, he was joined by Omega, who he deliberately ignored and continued shooting the targets as they appeared and shifted along the shooting area. To his relief, Omega didn’t bother him with useless questions, or gaze at him with that frustratingly expectant expression. Instead, she set up her own lane of targets, readied her energy bow, and began shooting. In his peripheral vision, he gauged her skill and accuracy to be moderate, impressive enough for someone her age and without the clone’s normal level of training.

Omega paused in her practicing, breaking her silence, much to the irritation of her brother, “Why don’t you talk to Izzy anymore?”

So much for that… Crosshair groaned, ignored her, and lined up another shot, taking out a row of six targets in quick succession.

Undeterred, Omega tried again, “Did she hurt you?”

He rolled his eyes and made a shooing motion in her direction, “Go bother Hunter– he actually likes it when you bother him, for some reason.”

She shook her head, “If she did hurt you, I’m sure she didn’t mean to–”

“You’re not meddling in my shit, Shortstack. Knock it off.”

“I just– You obviously miss her.” She stood facing him now, hands on her hips like some miniature copy of Hunter. Insufferable.

He took the used, heavily chewed toothpick from his mouth and flicked it down at her, it bounced off her shoulder, and ordered, “Out.”

“I don’t have to.” She didn’t budge.

“Then be silent, kid.” Crosshair returned to taking quick shots at the targets, ignoring the nearly vibrating presence of his sister behind him.

“I just think you were happier when she was around…”

“Omega.” He warned.

“Crosshair.” She mimicked his tone, “Izzy’s nice. I like her. And I think you do too.”

Crosshair sighed deeply, ignoring the pang in his chest telling him she was right, and began cleaning and packing away his rifle.

“You know I’m right…” She taunted.

Crosshair groaned, collected his things, and walked swiftly away. He wasn’t running. He was walking swiftly.

Omega giggled and shouted after him, “See you on Benduday!”

Omega and Wrecker wandered the market, looking for items to help the preparations for the Lifeday Festival. They just so happen to run into Isabella, not at all because they’d been looking for her…

“Izzy!” Omega shouted, waving excitedly and running up to catch her in a tight hug. Wrecker followed up close behind her, smiling widely.

“Omega! Wrecker! What a nice surprise!” She hugged back, as always adding an extra squeeze before letting go.

“Will you come with us to the festival?”

“That’s sweet, Omega, but I don’t think that’d be a good idea.” Izzy’s smiled sadly, “I, uh, I won’t be going actually.”

“Why not? I want you to be there!”

“It just… It wouldn’t be a good idea. Cross– Crosshair doesn’t want to see me, and I think he needs to be there more than I do.” She plastered on a quick smile, “Besides, I’ve still got to finish patching up Lula like you asked me to. That’ll give me time to finish.”

“Why isn’t Crosshair your friend anymore? Why doesn’t he talk to you anymore?”

Izzy sighed, “...It’s complicated.”

“But…I think he still wants to be your friend. I think he wants to talk to you…And you want to talk to him. And, you still want to be his friend, right?” Omega’s words came out in a rush, tumbling out almost of their own accord.

“Omega…”

“Why don’t you just make him listen? That’s what Hunter does when he wants me to listen.” She scrunched her nose petulently. She heard Wrecker chuckle.

She shook her head and sighed, “Let me ask you this– Before you left Kamino with Hunter and your brothers, did you ever have a time where you got to choose what you did or who you got to spend time with?”

Her voice grew quiet and mournful, “...No. I was always with Lama Su.”

“Well, Crosshair didn’t either. And now, he does have that choice– He said he wanted me to leave him alone and I don’t want to take that choice from him again.”

Omega’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward expectantly, “But– If he wanted to, would you talk to him again?”

Isabella squinted her eyes, but nodded, “Of course I would.”

Omega jumped up and clapped, “Great! Then you have to come tomorrow!”

“Omega, I already–”

“Oh! And wear the blue dress!” Omega was grinning like she’d just found treasure with Phee.

Laughing, Wrecker leaned in and whispered, as much as the big man was capable of whispering anyway, “It’s his favorite.”

Omega began tugging Wrecker’s hand to lead him away, “We'll come get you on the way!”“Omega! Wrecker!” She called after them pointlessly. Oh no.

Ye Olde Taglist: @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @secondaryrealm @arctrooper69 @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @dystopicjumpsuit @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sunshinesdaydream @followthepurrgil @yubnubhub @jediknightjana @dangraccoon @wizardofrozz @freesia-writes @mythical-illustrator @echoxbuggs @trixie2023

#Rebel Writes #Sunflowers & Blasters #Sunflowers and Blasters #star wars fanfiction #crosshair x oc #Crosshair x “Bells”#Crosshair x Dr. Isabella Ramot #Star War AU #star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb Omega #Slow Burn #Lots of Angst #Protecting by pushing away #Sibling Meddling #tbb wrecker

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run-me-through-but-not-like-that · 2 years

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Hello! Really big fan of all of your works so far (and also probably of all future ones) I have no idea if you wrote that yet, but maybe the reader taken care of injured Izzy? perhaps Izzy is touch starved as well?

Tumblr did a thing and deleted all my progress on this and I stupidly didn't have a back up so...I did it again, hope it's okay!

Taking Care of an Injured Izzy Hands:

The crew had gone on a raid, a 'proper' raid as Izzy and Edward would call it. And, to be fair to them, the crew of the Revenge didn't have much experience with raids that involved actual danger. But they were enthusiastic and had been preparing.

Despite the crew's lack of practical experience, it was Izzy would returned to the ship the most injured. His shirt was bloodied in more than enemy's blood and he was leaning against his captain for support.

Edward had been the one to bring him back to the ship, calling on you to come and tend to his first mate before disappearing down to the captain's cabin. Roach had once been the closest thing to a medic on board, but now those responsibilities fell onto you, since you had more experience with that sort of thing and an objectively gentler hand.

"What happened?" you demanded as you rushed into the captain's cabin, just in time to see Edward laying Izzy down on the captain's bed. Behind you, Lucius and Roach followed with their arms full of any equipment you might possibly need.

"He got stabbed-" more was said but that was all you really needed to know . There was some rambling about how he got injured, something to do with him making sure the whole crew didn't get killed, but you were too focused on getting the injury exposed to listen fully.

Luckily the stabbing had been pretty smooth, leaving you with a optimistic wound to work with. There wasn't too much extra damage.

The captains stayed as you tended to the injury, Izzy fists curled tightly and jaw tense as you cleaned the area to prevent infection. The first hand had eventually fallen unconscious while you were stitching up his wound, but you were a little surprised that he hadn't passed out earlier. Though, that was a good sign.

Once the fresh wound was cleaned and closed up, you assessed the man for any further damage you could take care of while you were there. "He should be fine, his breathing is good. Just have to wait for him to wake up" you assured the awaiting captains.

Edward and Stede thanked you for your help and Ed put you in charge of Izzy's care while he was recovering. Ed had warned you that he wouldn't accept your help easily, leaving you optimistic about your new job before they both left to tell the rest of the crew that Izzy would be fine.

During the hours that passed while Izzy slept, you never left the cabin. You had first passed the time with scrubbing the rest of the drying blood from his body, then cleaning the dirt and sweat away from his face, you had his clothes sent for cleaning and sewing up, and then you distracted yourself with Stede's library.

When you heard groaning from the bed and turned to see Izzy's face scrunched up, you rushed out of the cabin to ask Oluwande to grab him something light to eat and some water.

"How are you feeling?" you asked as you returned to Izzy's bedside.

"Like shit" he grunted, making you chuckle a little. He was talking and cognizant, that was a good sign.

"Well, the good news is that it looks like you're gonna be fine. Edward said that you had been stabbed in 'all the right places', apparently there's nothing important in the left side of the body. That doesn't sound right to me but, hey, you're alive so he mustn't be completely wrong" you informed him.

"It's definitely the...better place to be stabbed" he groaned as he shifted his weight against the mattress, drawing your attention to his bandages.

"Right, I gotta change your bandages, they're already bloody" you told him, already gathering the things you needed.

"I'll manage from here" Izzy complained, batting your hand away when you reached for his bandage.

"The captains have put me in charge of your care, that means you have to do as I say" you said before shrugged, "unless you want the wound to get infected and kill you, I guess."

"Fuck. Fine. Just get on with it" Izzy gave in. He wouldn't admit it but he knew that it would be easier to just let you tend to it than to do it himself, though you surprised him with how carefully you removed the bandages.

In fact, he was surprised by how gentle you were as you cleaned around the wound, like his comfort was important to you. The rest of his scars gave away that he had been wounded plenty of times, sometimes other people took care of them, sometimes he did it by himself, but nobody was ever so careful about it though. Not even himself.

You even warned him when you were about to touch the wound, being extra cautious as you cleaned it up and examined it. He pretended to ignore the way you sweetly shushed him and apologised whenever he winced to hissed to himself.

Just as you finished expertly bandaging the wound again, Oluwande stepped into the room with a bowl in one hand and a cup in his other.

"Perfect timing" you smiled as you crossed the room, taking the bowl of soup and drink from him. "Let the captains know he's awake" Olu nodded before leaving the cabin again.

"You should drink and try to eat. If you can't now, I'll make you something later" you advised as you approached Izzy again, but he only squinted at you like he was suspicious of you. "Don't make me force feed you" you threatened, placing the bowl and cup down beside him.

"You going to fucking watch me?" Izzy grimaced as he picked up the bowl.

"Yeah, make sure you're alright. Need to know if you can keep food down or not" you shrugged, pulling a chair over to the side of his bed and taking a seat.

Despite his complaints, Izzy ate and drank every drop. You left brief to fetch a pitcher of water for him, seeing as he seemed thirsty.

After being informed of Izzy's consciousness by Oluwande, Edward and Stede came to visit him. Ed told him that he was glad he was alright and praised your handiwork before helping the injured man to his own cabin.

"Y'got to listen to Y/n, alright mate? They're in charge of you until you're all healed up" Edward told him as he helped him down onto his cot.

"Fuck off" Izzy scoffed, his face scrunching up.

"Captain's orders" you shrugged, making Izzy groan. Stede gave you an apologetic look but you just laughed it off, earning a pat on the back from Ed before leaving Izzy to rest.

As you did so often lately, you let yourself into Izzy's cabin only to see him trying to sit up, his face twisted in pain as he moved.

"No, no, no" you chastised, hurrying over to him. Izzy only grunted and complained as you gently took hold of his shoulders and pushed him back down against the mattress. "You've got to rest or at least have help moving about, you're just going to make your wound worse" you warned him.

"I've been stabbed before" he huffed, annoyed with your fussing. You could have guessed that he had survived similar injuries but he didn't need to punish himself for that.

"Yeah, well, now I'm the one taking care of you. Things are going to change" you insisted with determination written all over your face. "Now, let me look at the damage you've caused" Izzy sighed at the insistence but nodded, too injured to be bothered fighting you any more than he had.

He didn't speak as you removed his bandages, being just as careful as you always were.

"You're bleeding again" you tutted. Why did you work so hard on those stitches just for him to keep breaking them? "If you keep being so stubborn, you're only going to slow down the healing process."

Despite him having causing the damage himself, you dutifully tended to the would. Showing him the same tenderness as always before bandaging it up once more.

Once you finished, you sat down on the edge of his cot, looking at him with a certain expression of disappointment.

"Seriously, Izzy. Just let me help you" you frowned, pushing his hair out of his face. He had only been trying to sit up and he looked like he had just been raiding again. He flinched a little as your hand made contact, yet relaxed as you combed your fingers through his hair. He almost let out a disappointed sigh when you removed your hand.

"I'm sure you've handled wounds like this before, I don't doubt that you know what you're doing, but you don't have to do everything by yourself. Let me help, let me make it easier for you" you were practically pleading with him, looking at him like all you wanted to do was help him, to care for him. It made him sick.

"...alright" Izzy grunted.

"Thank you" he only scoffed at your response. You were thanking him for letting you help him? "Roach is making dinner, which is what I came to tell you in the first place. I imagine you're pretty bored in here, want me to come and eat with you?" you asked, the offer genuine.

"...whatever you want" Izzy shrugged but you took that as a 'yes'. If he didn't want you to join him, he would have told you to fuck off again.

"I'll be back soon" you promised, giving him a smile before leaving his cabin.

He couldn't help but stare at the door after you were gone. He understood fully captain's orders, but you didn't have to follow them so well. He's sure all Ed expected of you was to keep his wound clean and make sure he doesn't die, not to coddle him.

Izzy raised an eyebrow at you as you tidied up his cabin, a mess you had mostly made anyway since you would barely let him leave the bed. "You're actually going to let me walk about now?" he questioned.

"Only if I'm with you, of course" you turned to him, beaming. Being forced to associate so closely and frequently with Izzy had really made you comfortable. Hell, you enjoyed your time helping him out. "But you have to promise me something?" your tone suddenly turned serious.

"What?" there was a time Izzy would have scoffed or fought you a little harder but he was becoming used to your strange way of...caring.

Of course, there was nothing actually strange about the way you cared. He just wasn't used to receiving care, so he wouldn't really know.

"If your injury starts to hurt when you're moving about, you let me know" all you wanted was to make sure that Izzy was alright and that he wasn't forcing himself to fight through the pain.

"I'm not a fucking child" Izzy spat, feeling as if you must be mocking him.

"Izzy" you sighed, shoulders dropping.

"Fine. I promise" it was a reluctant promise but good enough for you.

"Alright, let's get you up" your smile returned, at least until he tried to sit up by himself.

You were there in an instant, slipping an arm under his back and taking hold of his arm with your other hand, helping up into a sitting position. He turned his body, dropping his legs off of the cot and letting his feet hit the floor.

Once Izzy was sitting, you stepped over to where he kept his clothes. "What shirt do you want? The black one or the black one?" you asked playfully as you grabbed one of his shirts.

"You're a real comedian" Izzy muttered, rolling his eyes and yet...there was a certain fondness to his tone.

"Yeah, that was my backup plan but I became a pirate instead. The pay's better" you joked, your mood peaking when you heard a short chuckle from Izzy.

He didn't fight you any more as you helped him slip the shirt on. He just watched you as you buttoned it up, purely confused by your desire to help him, to be nice to him, to care for him.

Taking hold of his arm, you helped him stand. The two of you left the cabin, you close behind him. He was a little slow going up the steps onto the deck but you were still impressed with how well he was healing.

Izzy insisted on going about his first mate duties but you had insisted on never leaving his side, reminding him that it was your duty now. He had rolled his eyes at your insistence but it was oddly nice to have you following him around, even if he felt like you were only there to keep an eye on him and stop him from keeling over.

Everything was going fine and you thought the fresh air would be good for him, until he started chastising Lucius for not working. His frustration with the man was only heightened since he had been bedbound for who knows how long now despite wanting and trying to work every step of the way.

He was part way through the scolding when he let out a sudden hiss. Your head snapped towards him at the sound, seeing him clutching his abdomen where you new his injury was.

"Izzy?" you were instantly by his side, one hand against the small of his back and the other on the front of his shoulder. "Are you alright?" you asked, and Lucius took the chance to get out of Izzy's sight.

"I'm fine" Izzy insisted through gritted teeth, he wasn't at all convincing.

"Let me look at it?" you asked but he shook his head, breathing through the pain. "It will make me feel better" you pleaded, letting him pretend that you were doing this for yourself and not for him.

Reluctantly, Izzy agreed and even let you help him across the deck. You took his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders, and wrapped your arm around his waist, letting him lean against you as you helped him back down to his cabin.

You knew that Izzy hated accepting help, especially when he was in front of the crew. But at least you seemed to be wearing down at his stubbornness.

You patiently helped him sit down on the edge of his cot again. He watched you as you unbuttoned his shirt and helped him out of it, you weren't acting like this was a burden in the slightest. Maybe it wasn't for you. You folded the shirt and placed it to the side.

You knelt down and examined the scarring injury. "It looks alright, healed enough that it didn't open up again, so that's good" you assured him.

"Told you" Izzy breathed, the pain subsiding now.

Despite your initial conclusion, you examined it once more just to make sure everything was alright. Mindlessly, you gently brushed your finger tips over the scarring tissue, sending a shiver down Izzy's spine.

"Sorry" you apologised, pulling your hand away and looking up at him.

"S'alright" Izzy assured you quietly, making you smile a little.

"Can I put some ointment on it?" you asked and he nodded.

He hadn't liked using the ointment at first, mostly because Stede had been the one to provide it, but he had come to accept the soothing procedure.

You grabbed the jar and opened it before taking a generous amount. Izzy let out a breath as you applied the ointment to his wound, it as cold quickly warmed up under your hand. The ointment paired with your touch was soothing against his sensitive, scarring skin.

He couldn't help but let his eyes flutter shut, focusing on your touch. The lightness of it, the tenderness. You never pushed too hard, nearly featherlight, but oh so very there. It felt like you cared about him, like you wanted to care for him and that you didn't mind in the slightest.

Izzy felt that he could get used to this, to having you around, to your gentleness.

"Iz, you okay?" your voice broke him from his trance, his eyes flickering open again. "Thought I lost you there for a moment" you smiled up at him, wondering what was going on in his head.

"I'm good" he nodded, voice quiet. You didn't question his change in demeanour.

"Good" you smiled, like you were glad to hear it. "Now, anything I can do for you?" you asked, climbing back to your feet.

"I won't die if you don't fuss over me all the time, y'know" Izzy told you, no real bite to his words, he was looking at you more confused that angry.

"Maybe I enjoy it" you shrugged but your words were sincere. "Maybe I think you deserve to have somebody take care of you from time to time" you hummed, reaching out and running your hand through his messed up hair.

"Then you're the only one" he had intended on scoffing but it came out weak.

"I'll just have to be the one to do it, then, won't I?" you brought your hand down to his jaw, brushing your thumb over the little tattoo on his cheek.

Izzy let out another breath as he lent into your touch, forgetting himself for a moment. Once he realised what he was going, he pulled away slightly, but not enough to remove your touch entirely.

"We haven't washed your hair in a while, I think it needs it" you commented, having come to learn that Izzy enjoyed when you washed his hair.

He had never admitted that but he couldn't be more obvious about it, the way his eyes closed and muscles relaxed. Helping him bathe had been an awkward affair at first but the two of you found a system that suited you both.

"Don't need help washing up anymore, especially not my hair" Izzy reminded you, and it was true. You always offered your help when it came to his abdomen and legs since it involved him having to bend down but he didn't need help washing his hair of all things anymore.

"Yeah but...I could do it anyway" you offered, leaving the choice in his hands. It was obvious that gentleness was something he was lacking, something that he craved whether he knew it or not, and you wanted to be able to offer him that if he asked for it.

"Yeah, alright. You can help" Izzy declared with a professional nod, earning a fond laugh from you.

You wondered if you could make him fall asleep as you played with his hair again...

#izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #ofmd izzy #our flag means death #ofmd

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yellowcry · 7 months

Text

Light

Bruno was getting sick. The visions didn't stop, they never stopped. The green sad was choking him, there were too many noises, too many events that he had to see at once.

He just wanted this to stop.

(Cursed gifts AU)

CW: Self-harm, gore

Bruno's head was spinning, the world was drowning in green. So much green. He desperately tried to gasp onto anything, but any sense of reality was getting smashed with the melting vision and voices that peeled off together. How many words was he seeing right now? Things that will happen tomorrow, in a year or a few weeks. His brain was tearing apart, helplessly trying to maintain at least the slightest part of his crumbling sanity.

The sand creaks. Bells ring. "...How much..." Clink of coins. "....is nebulose" Rain drops down. The donkey yanks, the grass rustles in the wind. Blood is running down Isabela's arm. Somebody grabs a wrist. The glass is cracking

It's too much. Too much.

What was happening right now? Was he at home? He could see an orange couch, like in the living room, piercing *Hail hits the ground* through the vision veil. But it didn't help at all. There were still too many pieces of vision that were melting together so much, to the point where you couldn't separate *Palm fell* one from another. Bruno hated it; he wanted nothing more than a minute of rest. There were *Somebody punches the wall* too many things that became a pointless cough in his head. He wanted to see nothing, stop this meaningless stem of the future in his head.

His palms ached from hitting the wooden table *chomping* so many times. At that point, he wasn't sure why he was doing it—maybe as a way to get away from the bad luck that now was his life or just to ground himself. *Two towers collapse* His eyes sting from being wide open for too long. Luckily, the magic prevented them from *splash of water* drying completely, but it didn't change the fact how much he wanted to just stop seeing all those green possibilities. He didn't want to see any future, anything at all.

A sudden realization hit him; the sand dome became a little mute. He wouldn't see the future if he couldn't see at all.

Just a quick way to stop this. His brain finally gained some focus after having a determined goal. It was still hard to move with all the visions that he was receiving. Finally, in the kitchen, he knew what to do.

His hands were shaking just a little as he grabbed the knife. He didn't-couldn't think of anything but the crippling madness; the vision was jumping around; his ears were still hurt, but he couldn't care less. At this second, all his thoughts were focused on just one thing: to stop those green flashes in his eyes, force them out. It didn't matter how painful it would be; he didn't care how awful it would be to live without vision.

An inhuman scream went out of Bruno's throat instinctively as the blade of the knife stuck in his eye. In a few seconds, blood started to drip down, mixing with eye fluid. He hunched over, pressing his free hand over the injury, feeling the worst pain in his life. His eye was closed shut tightly as his body was protecting itself from losing more liquid.

Bruno wasn't going to stop. He was still seeing way too much green sand. Bruno begged to destroy every possibility of having those visions; he needed to stop them at all costs.

Somebody grabbed his wrist as Bruno raised his hand for the second time.

*** Saying that Agustin was shocked means saying nothing. He knew that their current situation was dark. If he wasn't a Madrigal, he would think that it was some horror story rather than the actual reality of their lives.

He was getting really fast instincts; it was impossible not to react to every rustle when you're falling asleep under a painful growls.

For a moment, he didn't understand what was going on. Bruno was hunching over the kitchen table, shaking more than a wet cat, clutching a knife in his hand for a moment before rasing his arm.

Then Agustin noticed blood dripping down the knife, as well as a gore mess that was instead of Bruno's right eye. Did he... Oh, Dios Mio! Agustin felt his heart missing a beat. It couldn't be possible... But the blade was red, and the blood was dripping from Bruno's closed eye.

While his mind was trying to proceed with the entire situation, his body moved on instinct. Agustin ran to his brother; his height gave him an indecent advantage in speed and step length. He broke through the sand and grabbed Bruno's wrist tightly, stopping this madness. Bruno winced, his shoulders rose, and a second later he started to struggle against the grip on his hand.

Agustin held his brother firmly, not letting him go. Now, next to Bruno, his face was even more terrifying; his eye might be closed, but Agustin still saw liquid dripping down it. How in the world of God did Bruno manage to stay conscious? There was a chance that it was just adrenaline, but Agustin didn't care; it didn't matter at the time. His glasses fell off as Bruno tried to push him away. Agustin winced at the sound of cracking glass but didn't let go. In that moment, only two of them existed in the entire universe.

Soon, Bruno's grip became weaker, and Agustin took that chance to grab the knife from his hands.

The situation in the house was getting worse. Agustín had no idea how to stop it. Would Julieta also try to hurt herself? Would Luisa try to cut off her stone parts? He didn't want to think about it. Agústin didn't want to believe that Bruno was actually the one to stab his right eye; he wanted to believe that it was some sort of assault or just a bare accident. But it couldn't be the deal. He saw how determined Bruno acted, how tightly he was holding the knife.

Bruno seemed to finally calm down as he let out a shaking whin and buried his bloody face in Agústin's blazer. "It hurts..." he muttered in a shaking voice.

Agústin's breathing was still heavily affected by the horror of the situation. And he would definitely never allow his brother to stay alone ever again.

#encanto #ao3 author #fanfic #bruno madrigal #agustin madrigal #cursed gifts au #encanto au #cw: gore #tw self destructive behavior #dead dove fic

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the12thnightproject · 2 years

Note

May I ask the IkeSen characters react to MC making them bento boxes before they go on with their daily schedule/missions, please?

Hi Anon,

Thank you for stopping by and making a request... sorry it took me so long... life got a bit busy over the past week.

I’m trying to remember whether or not any routes ever specified if MC is a good cook. We know that she managed to make rice crackers for Hideyoshi, and that she burned Omurice for Motonari. I think if she’s a good cook, the Warlords would all (except Ieyasu and possibly Kanetsugu) be pretty appreciative of her efforts. But if she’s not a good cook… then what would happen…??

So…

Warlords reacting to an MC who cannot cook making them bento boxes before they go on with their daily schedule/missions.

Nobunaga: Is touched by the gesture, but...secretly asks Masamune to help make it edible.

Hideyoshi: Is touched by the gesture, and gamely eats it all, washing it down with three pots of tea. Spends the rest of the day going back and forth to the toilet.

Masamune: Is touched by the gesture. Manages to make his edible. Resolves to teach her how to cook, using the excuse that “I want to spend more time with you, let’s have fun cooking together.”

Mitsuhide: Is touched by the gesture. Mixes everything all up, snarfs it down.

Ieyasu: Pretends not to care. Is touched by the gesture. Tastes the food. Quickly covers it all in hot sauce. Manages.

Mitsunari: Is touched by the gesture. Carefully inspects dish for carrots. Upon finding none, opens a book and reads while eating, so focused that he doesn’t notice the taste.

Ranmaru: Is touched by the gesture, but really really cannot bring himself to eat it, so he feeds it to Shogetsu, and then goes hungry the rest of the day.

Keiji: Is touched by the gesture. Makes up an elaborate food dance, in the process, whoops, accidentally spilling it all. Expresses contrition and insists that given his carelessness, he doesn’t deserve to be cooked for, ever ever again.

Kennyo: Is touched by the gesture. Puts himself into a meditative trance and convinces himself that it’s tasty.

Motonari: Is touched by the gesture. Figures out how to make his edible then convinces MC that she is too important to him to risk injury while cooking.

Kicho: Is touched by the gesture. Uses his merchant contacts to obtain a variety of spices that, once dumped on top, mask the worst of the flavor.

Kenshin: Is touched by the gesture. However the realization that the food is awful becomes entangled with the need to never permit anyone to criticize his beloved, even if he himself is the critic, sets up an existential dilemma requiring several hours of bunny therapy.

Kanetsugu: Why did you do this? You should be feeding Kenshin, as is his due. Wait. No. Don’t make him eat this. Take him this jar of pickled plums.

Shingen: Is touched by the gesture. But… this food is truly inedible, especially to someone with a sweet tooth. Even the fact that it was prepared by his Goddess is not enough to make it palatable. Finally comes up with a workable strategy in which one of his spies switches out the bento box every day, so that it at least looks like Shingen is eating her food.

Sasuke: Is touched by the gesture – but uses the excuse of a strange food allergy that prevents him from eating it.

Yukimura: Is touched by the gesture… but… “Wild boars can’t cook and neither can you. I love you anyway, though, dummy.”

Yoshimoto: Is touched by the gesture. “This box… it’s so picturesque. Look at how neatly everything fits into here. It’s too pretty to eat.” He displays it on a shelf until it attracts bugs, at which point Kanetsugu confiscates it and throws it away.

#ikemen sengoku #headcanons #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen hideyoshi #ikesen masamune #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen ieyasu #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen ranmaru #ikesen keiji #ikesen kennyo #ikesen motonari #ikesen kicho #ikesen kenshin #ikesen kanetsugu #ikesen shingen #ikesen sasuke #ikesen yukimura #ikesen yoshimoto

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retro-memo · 4 months

Text

A Fine Line

Chapter Two: Five Years Later

Fandoms: Good Omens and Destiny 2

Ratings: General Audiences And Up

Warnings: Minor Injuries

Word Count: 3.6k

Chapters: 1, 2

Co-Author and artist: @langodan, AO3 Link

Fanfic AO3 Link: Chapter Two

Present day…

To say being a Guardian wasn't an easy job would be an understatement of the matter.

Between defending the City, the patrols and missions that could sometimes take weeks or months, it was draining in more ways than one but it was a duty that had to be done.

And this patrol was no different.

At least, that's what Aziraphale tried to tell himself as he trudged between Michael and Uriel, knee deep in possibly the nastiest swamp water on this side of Winding Cove. The only reason he was here to begin with was because reports had been coming in of active Glimmer mining in the European Dead Zone, and out of all the people Gabriel could have chosen to investigate, he picked them.

It wasn’t that Aziraphale minded, however, he did very much feel more than miffed being saddled with Michael and Uriel. They were part of a particular group of Guardians that no one, except themselves, wanted to work with on missions and for very good reason. They were so high up their own –

Aziraphale didn’t get to finish that thought when two hands shoved him from behind. He stumbled and was barely able to catch his footing before he ended up face-first into the one kind of water he didn’t want near his clothes, let alone mouth. Even if his helmet would’ve prevented the last one from happening.

“What was that for?” He wasn’t surprised to see it was Uriel behind him when he whirled around. The Voidwalker didn’t even flinch and only gave him a blank stare in return with her arms crossed. “You weren’t paying attention.” She tilted her chin up at him with a raised eyebrow. “We’re not here to daydream but to take down a Glimmer operation and the last thing we need is to get ambushed because you weren’t focusing.”

Aziraphale felt himself blanch at that. Usually, he wasn’t one to pick petty fights and preferred to back down before one broke out. However, after walking in this damn swamp for so long that the water had started soaking into his boots and made every step feel unbearable but also having to deal with Uriel and Michael?

He felt at his wits end and he scowled, about to throw something back when Michael’s voice cut through. “Can you two stop? The drilling site is not much further and we need to be as quiet as possible.”

“I was just making sure Aziraphale was paying attention.” Uriel gave a scoff. “We can’t have him ruining this mission for us.”

“Now you made sure.” Well, at least it looked like Aziraphale wasn’t the only one feeling the fatigue of this mission it seemed, judging by the way Michael snapped back at Uriel. “Let’s move it, I don’t want to be here for any longer. It’s disgusting.”

Uriel huffed and shoved her way past him to join Michael at the front while Aziraphale bit down on his tongue, stopping himself from saying anything. He took a deep breath, to centre himself before reluctantly trailing after them. He wished for nothing more than for this mission to be over with so he could return to the City, throw himself at his books and forget that any of the last few hours ever even happened at all.

He had barely taken a step to follow when he felt it. It was masked, muffled, and he barely was able to sense it but it was enough to make the hairs on Aziraphale's neck stand on end.

That’s when he saw it fly overhead. The way the air distorted. The unnatural movement of tree branches and if he strained his ears he could hear all-too-familiar whispering chatterings.

“Michael -” Aziraphale rushed forward, hand outstretched to Uriel and Michael.

“Aziraphale, what did I just say about being quiet?” Michael didn’t even turn to him.

“But-”

“I said be quiet.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth but before he could even get a shout or warning out, a bolt was fired from the sky. A cut off cry escaped his throat as he was thrown back. He could feel the heat of the following explosion singeing the layers of his protective armor but he barely had a moment to think of it when he landed on his back with a splash in the water.

“It’s an ambush!'' Aziraphale shot up at Uriel’s shout, trying to ignore the way that his head spun nauseatingly and his heart jerked at the scene that unfolded before him. Several Fallen skiffs had uncloaked and their troops were descending from the ship, weapons aimed ready for combat.

He scrambled to his feet and reached for his hand cannon at the same time Michael appeared at his side and roughly grabbed him from his shoulder. “You were meant to be watching our back!” She hauled him up from the water and Aziraphale flinched. “Why didn’t you warn us?!”

“I tried to!” Aziraphale snapped back and shook her hand off of him. From the corner of his eye, he could see Uriel in the fray of the attack, clearing out the dregs and marauders that were trying to overwhelm them. Another skiff uncloaked, this time with several Captains leaping out of it with their shrapnel launchers brandished and Aziraphale could feel the air tense as Michael crackled with energy next to him.

“If it’s a fight they want.” Michael rolled her shoulders back and pulled on their sleeves. “It's a fight they’ll get.” With that, she joined in on the chaos, releasing a blinding flash of lightning at the nearest skiff that instantly evaporated any Fallen about to deploy.

Aziraphale was about to join them, reading himself to prepare for the fight when something buzzed under his skin. It was almost a whisper but not quite. Warning him to fall back. He didn’t have much time to think about it when a Fallen walker landed with a crash, sending him, and his teammates tumbling back into the stirred up water of the swamp. The walker churned with mechanical whirring, the sound almost deafening as it turned its attention to Michael and Uriel who were both still trying to get back to their feet.

He realized with a start that they wouldn’t get up in time and as much as Aziraphale disliked them, the thought of either of them getting hurt was enough to make his stomach roll. He scrambled to his feet, reaching for his weapon-

Except he didn’t reach it in time.

He yelped as something grabbed him from behind, yanking him up by the back of his robes and before he knew what was happening, he was airborne. Pain broke across the entire back of his body, his vision whitening out as he hit solid ground but it didn’t stop there. Every root and protruding stone dug into his skin with each uncontrollable roll and for a moment, he wished to simply pass out; anything to make it stop.

And like that, it all ended as quickly as it started, leaving him lying in a dirty, motionless heap.

Aziraphale grimaced as he tried pushing himself to his knees, the world around him feeling as if was being tilted on its axis, all of it a dizzying wash of colours. He grunted, using one arm to clutch onto his ribs as his muscles burned in protest, most likely bruised from the impact, possibly broken, while his fingers of his other hand struggled to find grip on the dirt beneath him.

The sounds of combat were nothing but a distant drone now as he strained to raise his head, his vision swimming from the action. In a brief moment of clarity, he could see several Fallen Captains closing towards him and in the centre was the biggest one. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that was probably the one that had thrown him.

Aziraphale attempted to pull himself up to his feet but only ended up slipping and landing backwards. He shuddered as he heard the Captains talking to each other in their own tongue and couldn't help but let out a choked out laugh, his ribs grinding together like broken teeth. All those years of learning different languages and now he was here listening to exactly how he was going to die.

How they planned to finish him off and his Ghost, ridding of him once for all.

No. Aziraphale clawed at the ground and tried to drag himself away as one of the Captains started to reach for him, his heart hammering in his chest with a new resolve. He couldn’t die. Not here. Not now.

Using what little strength he had left, Aziraphale reached deep within him to call to his Light for one final burst of energy -

When the Captain stalking towards him suddenly was wrapped up in a green rope of energy around his waist and was promptly fished right off the ground into the canopy. Aziraphale flinched as the other captains gave enraged shrieks and whirled around to the direction their leader had disappeared off to, raising their weapons to fire.

They didn’t get the chance. A shadowy figure, black-clad, leapt from the trees above and landed amidst Aziraphale’s pursuers with a flamboyant backflip. In the next instant, the Captains were swept up into a net of tangling green threads, suspended in midair, caught like flies in a spider’s web.

Aziraphale jerked his head up, trying to follow everything that was happening so fast, so very fast but his head spun and white-hot spots started to dart over most of his vision. That wasn’t good. He thought numbly, feeling as if he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, barely able to make out what was happening around him anymore.

Despite that, he still found himself watching as the figure wove a writhing rope dart of these green threads. It was pointed at the tip, and like a snake, the figure coiled it up and struck out at the Captains, disintegrating each of them into ribbons of energy.

It was almost mesmerizing.

Aziraphale didn’t get to think much about it when he could feel what was left of consciousness slipping away from him, tugging at him. He couldn’t fight it. Even if every instinct was screaming the opposite, urging him to stay awake.

The last thing he saw was a pair of glowing eyes from underneath the figure’s shadowed hood as his savior turned to him before he succumbed to darkness.

o0o

Warmth.

That was the first thing Aziraphale felt prickling at his senses as everything slowly came back to him. It cocooned him, pressing at the back of his mind gently, almost as if it was beckoning at him to fall back to where he came from. It felt so tempting and he nearly did but there was one small problem stopping him from doing so.

His body ached. Every muscle cramped, feeling as if he’d just been through ten rounds of Dares of Eternity without taking a break. Not that he’d know what that was like from experience, of course.

The next thing that hit Aziraphale was the smell. It was moldy, burning at his nose and it was enough to almost make him gag. He grunted, turning over and attempted to bury his face into the soft fabric underneath him –

Wait.

Soft?

Struggling to open his eyes, Aziraphale let out a groan and slammed them shut again as they were assaulted by a harsh light that seemed to pierce even through his eyelids. He swallowed, his stomach churning dangerously and –

“Oh, you’re finally awake.” Aziraphale froze in place at the voice, breath leaving him all at once. It was one that sparked a distant memory that was so vivid. It belonged to someone he thought he’d never see, let alone hear again.

“Crawley.” Without thinking, Aziraphale’s eyes flew open as he lurched up.

Only to immediately regret it as his head exploded with pain. He groaned and clutched at it, his skull feeling as if several Centurions had taken a swing at him.

“What do you think you’re doing you idiot?” A hand caught him by his arm, gentle but firm. “Lie back down before you end up giving yourself another concussion.”

Aziraphale shook his head, forcing his eyes open and his heart gave a stuttered start.

There was Crawley. Standing next to him, hand still on his arm and Aziraphale could only stare. Stare at his friend, taking everything he could in because it had been five years. Five grueling years that felt more like eternity, where what little hope Aziraphale had to see him again dwindled into nothingness as time moved on.

Now that hope was back tenfold. And relief. So much relief. It expanded in Aziraphale’s chest and almost took up everything inside him, threatening to drown him in it. Crawley looked almost exactly the same as Aziraphale remembered. Sure, his clothes were different and he was slimmer, but his hair was fiery as ever, even if it was a little longer and unkempt.

And then his gaze fell on Crawley’s eyes.

“Crawley, your eyes.” They weren’t the warm brown that Aziraphale had known. Instead, they now were a bright piercing yellow, with almost black slits that reminded him of a snake. He couldn’t help but reach out towards his friend. “What happened to them?”

“What?” Crawley reared back, staring at Aziraphale with a frown before it seemed something shifted into place behind those eyes that seemed so hauntingly familiar but also not. His friend shook his head and barked out a laugh that sounded so strangled Aziraphale couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “Right, you don’t know.”

“Know what?” Aziraphale shifted, sitting up and trying to ignore the way the world felt as if it was tilting dangerously; he could feel his heart start to pick up the pace when his friend didn’t reply. He wasn’t even looking at him anymore. “Crawley, know what?”

“‘Tis Crowley.”

“What?” Aziraphale jerked away, caught off guard more than he’d like to admit. “I don’t –”

“My name.” His friend blurted out as he finally looked back at him, giving a shrug that seemed too strained to be casual. “I changed it. It’s Crowley now.”

“Oh.” The silence that followed was heavy. It was drowning. Drowning with so much that it felt suffocating. Aziraphale had to look away and –

He blinked at his surroundings.

It was an apartment. Well, apartment was a loose word. It could’ve been back in the day but now it had been reduced to four walls and a roof that looked like they were barely holding together. There were a few windows, either shattered or cracked, while on the other side of the room was what looked to be the remains of a kitchen counter.

At least, that’s what he guessed, judging by the cans of food and supplies. Aziraphale couldn’t help but note that his hand cannon that he dropped in the fight at the swamp was amongst them.

“Is this where you’ve been all this time?” Aziraphale asked and a small part of him didn’t want to know the answer because the thought of Craw – Crowley, he reminded himself, he was Crowley now – living in conditions like this; alone and–

“At times.” Crowley shrugged, scuffing at the wooden floorboards of the room with the edge of his boot, kicking up some dust. “It’s one of my smaller safehouses that I keep stocked in the Dead Zone. I move around a lot. Helps not to be tracked.”

“That makes sense…” Aziraphale nodded as all of that sank in but stopped, thinking back to the swamp. More specifically the way Crowley had rescued him. He knew Crowley’s specialty as a Hunter before he left, why wouldn’t he? He had been one of the best Nightstalkers, often striking from the shadows, and helping to take down enemies from behind where they least expected it.

Except that wasn’t what Aziraphale saw at the swamp. Which, on the surface, didn’t sound like much. Afterall, it wasn’t uncommon for Guardians to change subclasses from time to time, depending on the missions and what they called for but there was something different about what Crowley was using.

Something he hadn’t seen before. “What was it that you were using?”

“What?” The way Crowley’s head tilted at the question was almost comical. “Using?”

“At the swamp.” Aziraphale elaborated with a wave of his hand, not sure how to describe what he saw. A part of him wondered if he imagined it from being thrown like he had been. “Against the Captains?”

“Oh that. It was Strand.” Crowley said, as if it was meant to explain everything. Before Aziraphale could ask more, his friend leaned back with his arms crossed and tilted his head to him. “Y’know, a Darkness element? On Neptune?”

“What?” Aziraphale had heard of many Guardians that chose to use the Darkness, but now he couldn’t help but gape at Crowley. He knew what Darkness was. Who didn’t? It was a neutral force, sure. Not good or bad, but it was dangerous.

“But that’s–” He shook his head because surely he heard wrong because why?

Why would Crowley turn his back on the Light? On the Traveller? They had both seen what Darkness could do when in the wrong hands. The destruction and death it could bring. The Black Fleet was enough evidence of that. So what benefit did Crowley get from using it?

“I don’t understand.” Aziraphale leaned back against the pillows behind him. “I thought…”

“I had to change, angel.’’ Crowley's voice was soft, as if he was repeating a well-known fact that could be found in an encyclopaedia and maybe it was but it didn’t stop them from feeling as if they were tearing through Aziraphale’s turmoil like a heated blade.

Aziraphale turned away at that, clenching onto the crumpled blanket on his lap, feeling as if it was the only thing able to keep him grounded because this was all so much. Crowley being so different but still the same, still him, but also not. He couldn't help but wonder why?

“Azi-”

A new sound filtered through the apartment, it was muffled but distant and Aziraphale startled as he realized what it was, his hand instinctively reaching for his side where his hand cannon would’ve been.

That was the sound of a ship’s engine but whose?

“It’s a rescue crew.” At one point, Crowley had taken out a weapon and started towards the furthest window in the room. “Looks like those two wankers you were with at least were smart enough to call for back-up.”

“They did?” Aziraphale was more relieved to than he’d admit to hear that because it meant that Michael and Uriel had to have at least gotten away from the Fallen attack to call for help. One less obstacle to worry about for the day. However, he immediately felt his heart lurch as Crowley scooped up a worn-out duffle bag from the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving.” Crowley didn’t even stop to look at him, only sliding a few cans of what looked to be baked beans into his bag and taking everything he could.

“Leaving?” No. Crowley couldn’t leave. Not yet. There were too many questions Aziraphale still wanted - needed - to ask. Aziraphale pushed himself up, forcing himself to throw his legs over the bed but he didn’t stand up. Not yet. “But you can’t -”

“I have to, angel.” Crowley cut him off as he spun on his heels before sauntering over to the window opposite of the rundown apartment. He finally stopped, turning back to Aziraphale. “I guess this is goodbye. Again.”

“You can still come back.” Aziraphale muttered softly as he stood up, trying to ignore the way his legs wobbled as he took a step forward. “It’s not too late.”

Crowley’s lip quirked up at that, it was small, vulnerable but genuine. “Would you leave with me?”

He wouldn’t. The same as before when Crowley asked him to run away with him and like all those years ago, they both knew it. Aziraphale looked away, staring at the hand cannon on the table across to the otherside of the room, trying to ignore the part of him that so desperately wanted to scream yes. To leave with Crowley and never think to look back.

“Will I see you again?” He asked instead, turning to Crowley again.

Crowley’s smile turned to a smirk as he hauled himself onto the windowsill, flicking on a pair of sunglasses that seemed to appear out of nowhere. “We both have to wait and see with that one, angel.”

Aziraphale blinked as Crowley tapped the side of the glasses and watched as it seemed to unfold over his face as if it was liquid before it was fully encased in a mask. “That’s new.”

There was a muffled snort from within said mask. “Don’t get in trouble while I’m gone.” He pulled his hood over his head.

With that, he gave a quick salute, and -

He started to fall backwards.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping him as ran with his hand outstretched. He grabbed onto where Crowley had been sitting moments ago, desperately peering out of the window to see where his friend went, half-expecting to see him on the ground in a heap of blood and boney mess with his Ghost hovering over to him –

Only to see Crowley gliding through the air on a thread of green energy, and with one more swing, he was gone into the forest.

o0o

Now if Aziraphale's report later that evening was more along the lines of a bended truth when asked what happened – that he was knocked out and didn't remember most of the fight?

And when he returned to his quarters, he wrote a different recollection in his diary?

One that certainly wouldn't be the last of its kind like it…

Well, no one had to know.

#good omens #good omens fanfic #destiny 2 #destiny 2 fanfiction #crossover/fusion #good omens fanfiction #fanart

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exiled-eyes · 1 year

Text

Thread: @lowetyde

Location: The rocks north of the mermaid lagoon

There were few times when Neverland seemed to truly be quiet, there was always some sort of life to be heard. But today, the morning song birds were silent, late or missing from their usual routine. It was the first sign that something had been off. A warning that the islands creatures had been disturbed. A cautionary cue that Cecco had not overlooked. For the skies were always abuzz with cheerful melodies, even though they typically faded in to the background and more often than not, went overlooked. Only the sound of rocks shifting beneath Ceccos bare feet, greeted their senses. The quiet clacking as stones banged in to each other, an unpleasant sound overall. Every click served as an eerie reminder that the quartermaster was alone, or at least, they thought they were. For the ocean before them even seemed still.

They had chosen to make the trek in order to receive some much needed silence. The shores by the ship were good and dandy, but there was too much noise. With the crew coming and going, tending to the fire and hunting, it was hard to have more than a few moments of peace without someone shouting or laughing loudly enough to break concentration. Here though, very few distractions threatened to tear Cecco away from their book, from the souls who were longing to receive their next letter. It was easier to focus on the parchment and what they had wanted to share with old friends. As the quartermaster made their way round a sizable cluster of stones, something in the distance caught their eye. Shoulders stiffened as amber hues squinted, focusing on a spot in the water which appeared . . . Dark. Pink, in a way.

Breaths slowed, an attempt to prevent their heart from rapidly beating against their ribs. For the only thought that came to mind as to why there would be any discoloration in the water, was injury. Be it a lost boy, fish, what have you, blood in the waves was not a good omen. If Cecco had any sense, they would have turned around and left, mermaids were never too far from the shores, searching out their next victims, blood in the sea was surely a calling card to them. Like hungry sharks circling a carcass. But despite what their mind pleaded, the desire to turn and head back to the ship swelling, their heart whispered a gentle tune, inquisitive and laced with concern. What if it was a hurt child in the waves? One that had tumbled down the rocks and been knocked unconscious. Could they still draw breath? For a moment, they simply stood still, watching the spot as though something was to happen, as if they were expecting something. There was a choice to be made, retreat to safety and attempt to wipe the instance from their mind, or to help. At the very least, identifying the origin of the injured, without getting in the waters tempting waves.

"I swear-" Cecco huffed beneath their breath. It very well could have been a trap. If there were merfolk surrounding the spot, lingering in wait for someone foolhardy enough to brave the depths to play hero over what might be simply a fish who met a poor end, then they would play it safe. Kneeling down, rough digits ran across several small stones, seeking out flat rocks. Once they had found a few of reasonable size, Cecco skipped them on the surface of the glossy waves. Aiming as closely to the spot as possible, watching and waiting for anything that may emerge.

#{ Marlowe } TBD #There's no telling what is waiting to be discovered { Threads }

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outrunningthedark · 2 years

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Seeing that you think Buck won't dwell much in his breakup since it's his own decision, what will his storyline be for this season? Will it be non-romance related, will it (finally) move toward Buddie canon, or will his character "play" a little bit characterization-wise?

Here's the thing. Even though tumblr fandom calls s5 "the season of Eddie Diaz", let's not kid ourselves; we saw plenty of Buck, too. And when he wasn't helping Eddie process his past trauma or staying laser-focused during a rescue...the dude was miserable. We opened the season with Buck feeling lonely while IN a relationship (the first hint of s5 that things were not going to end well), and then by episode four (into episode five) he's worried that Chimney and the other members of the firefam won't forgive him for keeping his sister's secret and thus "causing" Chimney to go away for awhile. I won't bore everyone with a longer summary of what transpired for the remaining 13 episodes, but the point is that we had plenty of evidence that Buck was struggling to find answers and that uncertainty, that fear of being left (again), is what prevented him from separating himself from his gf until he could no longer deny she'd never change and they would never work as a real couple. Starting s6 with a "lost and alone" Buck, after he showed RELIEF at letting TayKay go, after he had his Moment of Realization re: what kind of partner he needs to look for and commit to...how does that make sense? I'm not saying he won't have his doubts about finding "The One", but rather than jump into bed with random women (or not-so-random women...), I think there is a possibility that he has these talks with people he trusts, like, y'no, Eddie, and those of us who have been paying attention are going to be doing a lot of 👀👀 while waiting to see where the story's at by 6x10, and then how it's resolved by 6x18 if we still don't have all the facts. The two things that come to mind for a Buck arc in s6 are an injury/health scare (nothing since season three because 4 and 5 were focused on his personal life) or the return of the Buckley parents that also allows for Buckley siblings content/more of Maddie's healing process (which would bring us to Madney being back together, assuming it's not something that happened off screen during hiatus...) I don't like to "predict" Buddie going canon in s6, but what I will say is that we were given a perfect setup: Buck expresses his thoughts about the ideal life partner in the previous season finale and takes (possibly) the entire following year to realize (or admit) that what he's been searching for has been right beside him all along.

#anonymous #tina speaks #buddie #tv: 911 #tv: 9-1-1 #911 speculation

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unstablerk800 · 10 months

Text

𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤

Rating: Explicit Pairing: RK900/Fem!Reader (third person) Tags (tagging as I go): post-android revolution, kidnapping, angst/fluff, hurt/comfort, Stockholm syndrome, protective RK900, manipulation, solitary confinement, blood, injury, violence, gore, illnesses, RK800, RK800-60 and RK900 are considered siblings, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements Read on Ao3.

Chapter 09.

Chapter 10. 🔽

Chapter 11.

Word count: 6,714

When he received the news, he was immediately on his way. If anything, he was surprised things were quiet and calm for so long. Every morning he talked to her, his bad feelings didn't cease; if anything, they got worse.

He kept telling Connor that they shouldn't let RK900 be alone with her. Sixty reasoned that they should be living at least closer to them, in case things went downhill. And he hated, loathed that he was right about this. Had he been closer to their home, he could've been faster.

Sixty walked through his home. Just like RK900's, his personal space was pristine and almost empty; save for the computer on a desk, surrounded by speakers. He gritted his teeth as he was preparing himself for yet another hunt, picking up his handgun and as much ammunition as he could carry in a bag. It was no question that humans would try and get to her, the question was when would they do it, and knowing that they've went without an incident for a mere few weeks was already a miracle.

The last time, they found no traces of humans noticing how important she was to them. It seemed that they realised that she was significant, and word must've spread fast about it; if he only knew how they did it, he would've prevented it.

"Doesn't matter", he growled to himself as he remotely opened the door of his garage. His LED was red ever since he got the news, and after he got on his motorbike, he roughly kickstarted it. "I'll kill them all."

They agreed to meet where they were ambushed. The supermarket wasn't almost empty now; there were almost twenty RK900's that walked around the place, looking for evidence, checking the bodies, sharing data with each other. That had told Sixty that Nines did, after all, panic.

"Update me", Sixty told RK900 as soon as he reached him, and Nines did, without a word, sharing everything that happened that morning. Sixty pursed his lips. "Amateurs", he glanced down at the bodies with a snarl which had been moved to one of the aisles.

RK900 just slightly tilted his head. His stoic expression was distracting for Sixty; if his LED wasn't spinning in crimson just as his own did and he hadn't done an analysis of his successor, one could've thought RK900 was completely unaffected. But by now, Sixty knew better.

"Where's Connor?"

"He's on his way", RK900 replied quietly, not moving his lips to speak.

He needed every ounce of his willpower not to lose his mind. He couldn't afford it now. He needed a clear head, and he was focusing on trying to concentrate as hard as possible – without theorizing about what could possibly happen to her in that moment.

"I was telling him that we should live closer to you two", Sixty shook his head as he crouched beside the bodies to examine them. As he was processing data, analyzing their surroundings and reconstructed the events, he silently followed the kidnappers' trace. "We could've helped."

"I know." RK900 muttered, still not moving his mouth. "So, you can say it."

"Say what?" Sixty barked back, looking straight in RK900's eyes.

"That you were right."

Sixty's expression scrunched up in way too many emotions for RK900 to comprehend it at the moment.

"I'd never say that I was right, Nines", Sixty whispered, shaking his head. "Not now. Not about this. I wish I wasn't right. I wish she was safe with us instead, now."

RK900 said nothing as he followed Sixty like a ghost. Despite his own state, he was aware that Sixty took this worse than him, if it was possible. Sixty hated humans for a reason. After all, one of them shot him in the head soon after he was activated, and many others had tried to kill him in the past few weeks as well. He had his fair share of trauma and dislike for humanity; which was also why Sixty was unbearably protective of her. She never ever attempted to cause him harm, and she was showing him that physical contact could feel good, too.

"They went underground", Sixty muttered, just when Connor joined them outside, at the entrance of a subway near the supermarket.

RK900 updated Connor, too, while Sixty analyzed the entrance. As soon as he started to walk down the stairs, RK900's hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him.

"No", he stated, and Sixty stared up at him with a snarl.

"Hunting humans down is my job", he stated aggressively, "release me."

"Sixty, that would be suicide", Connor reasoned, "we don't know what waits for us down there."

"They're just humans, Connor", Sixty snapped.

"So is she", RK900 still didn't move his mouth, but his fingers tightened on Sixty's shoulder. "We won't barge in until we know she's alright. We need to be cautious for her safety."

"Her safety?!" Sixty brushed RK900's hand off of him and stepped back up on the stairs. "For all we know, they're breaking her bones right now to talk about things she doesn't even know! They could think she's important to us because she's someone who knows a lot about androids; an engineer, a technician – what would humans like these do to someone who appears to be important to us?!"

Connor looked at RK900 from the corner of his eyes, and detected that his successor's stress level was rapidly rising before it stopped at 85%. He'd never ever considered it could be that high. Nines stared at Sixty stoically while Connor was painfully aware that he had been thinking what they all were thinking: that she's probably suffering worse than a few broken bones.

RK900 stared in Sixty's brown eyes, and something stirred within him. He recalled what she asked of him just a few days ago.

"Can I ask something?"

She was resting her head on his chest. The room was dark, and he was running his hand in her hair as they laid there. It was quiet and calm, and it relaxed RK900 enough that he was softly smiling above her, knowing she wouldn't see.

"You can ask anything you wish, anytime", he murmured softly.

"Will you keep Sixty and Connor safe for me?"

RK900 furrowed his brows now, a frown was rapidly forming on his face.

"I think they're quite capable of keeping themselves safe."

"I know. But... if they ever need it... if they're in danger, would you please save them?"

RK900 had learned enough about her to know that she was very attached to androids; and the three of them were, already, very close to her. He found himself in a position again that he couldn't say no to her; even if he knew deep down that neither Sixty nor Connor would ever need his protection.

"I promise", he whispered, stroking her cheek.

He never knew he'd need to actually keep his promise, and that he'd need to act upon it so soon. But he did it anyway.

"We will use drones", he decided coolly. He finally was able to move his mouth as he formed his words. "You're not going down there."

"You've lost your mind", Sixty yanked himself away from RK900 and walked down a few paces, only to be stopped by fingers on his backpack, pulling him back.

Sixty couldn't even put his annoyance into words anymore. He half spun where he stood, faced RK900 and leapt at him like an angry tiger. RK900 didn't fight back; he used defensive moves any time Sixty attempted to hit or kick him. Connor couldn't even believe what he saw. He'd never seen Sixty lose his cool like this, and he never witnessed RK900 not kicking anyone's ass if they dared to raise a hand on him.

Something told him that she had to do something with this.

"Enough!" Sixty was shouting. He rarely ever raised his voice ever since the events in the CyberLife tower. Ever since his wound had been put there. Connor scanned him, and detected that his stress levels capped at 92%. "Let me go! Let me handle this-"

"No", RK900 finally had enough and seized Sixty up against the closest wall. "I promised her."

"What?!"

"I promised her that I'd keep you safe."

RK900's words were met with shocked silence. Sixty finally stopped struggling; his eyes filled with desperate tears.

"And we promised the same to her, didn't we?" RK900 added quietly when he felt that Sixty went still in his hold. "You need to be calm, Sixty. You can't hunt them down without mapping out the underground tunnels first. There are too many of them. We'll use drones to detect life formw, and when we're sure what we're against, we will attack. Just this once, for her sake, listen to her. None of us wants her to grieve, isn't that right?"

Sixty's artificial muscles relaxed, and he tilted his head back against the wall behind him.

"I'm going to have some words with her about this", he muttered, his voice shaking, but Connor noticed that his stress levels dropped drastically.

When he saw Sixty wouldn't run away, RK900 slowly let him go. Glancing at Connor, Nines sighed as he reached in his coat's inner pocket to pull out her collar.

"I've been tracking this", he admitted, "with a group of RK900s. There are too many humans underground. When we took Detroit over, we noticed that we couldn't catch all of them, and we were aware they moved underground. We thought we'd let them go, because they would turn up sooner or later anyway; if they reappeared we'd round them up, or if they could flee the city, then so be it. They wouldn't get far, and even if they did, we'd catch them because we have every major city under our command anyway. But we never thought they'd stay down there and survive for this long. Waiting for a good reason to stage an ambush. Waiting for something they could use against us."

"I thought only you can remove her collar", Sixty raised a brow and RK900 shook his head.

"Remember that man who blew my arm off?"

Sixty's eyes went wide.

"They used your original arm?"

"That's my theory", RK900 nodded, "there's no other explanation. I've set the collar to only respond to my touch, no one elses'; how they've found it is mystery."

"I took it to the CyberLife tower to be destroyed", Sixty murmured. "I knew it wouldn't be good to keep it."

"Were you followed?" Connor asked and Sixty shook his head.

"No."

"We'll have to scan CyberLife", RK900 nodded, and Connor pursed his lips. His successor gave him a sour look. "You wanted to go back there anyway, right?"

"I wasn't ready yet", Connor looked away. He was worried what he'd find there; while he was curious about his past, he was also dreading it. "But to ensure her safety in the future, I'm willing to look around."

"Later", RK900 nodded, "first, we need to get some drones."

~*~

The newest RK model entered the room.

It was an empty room save for the mattress in one of the corners and the thin blanket thrown on it. She was sitting in the corner on the mattress; rocking back and forth as she was hugging her legs, her eyes puffy and red from crying, still full of tears. She was wearing only a short-sleeved, white nightgown that had CyberLife's pale blue logo on it over her heart. Her arms and legs were littered with dark blue, almost black bruises.

"I am 313 248 317 - 01."

He introduced himself as if it was her who asked his name. He had a white, short sleeved shirt on with his model and serial number on it: RK800 in big black letters, and #313 248 317 - 01 in smaller ones under it. His arm ring was visible on his bicep, and she could see that his LED brightened and dimmed in pale blue as he analyzed his surroundings and her state.

The door locked behind him.

And it began again.

He did not have a mission to begin with, but his social module had been turned on, which meant that he wanted to make a connection with her. She wasn't responsive. Every time she let someone close to herself, it always ended the same way.

There'd be no more victims to add to her list. No more faces that'd haunt her at night. She locked herself in for good.

The android did not know that, though. He hadn't had the faintest idea what she went through, during all those years, before he was even created; all that pain and suffering was invisible to him in the moment. He could pick up stress levels and trauma, signs of PTSD and trust issues, but the real reasons were hidden from him. They didn't tell him anything. He was a prototype, and it was his first test.

She was fed three times a day. She got the same bland gruel with vitamins and medicines mixed in it, carefully measured so she just wouldn't starve to death, she would avoid illnesses, and would be docile enough. She was let out to a bathroom two times a day. The android was allowed to accompany her, talk to her, ask her questions to which she never replied.

She had hoped that ignoring him would work. But she was wrong. Her night terrors kicked in only two days after he joined her in her cell, and he was stubborn in his wish to calm her down and hold her, even if she tried to push him away. He felt tougher than the others to her; somehow, bigger, better built.

He was holding her in his left arm, close to his chest, and was stroking her cheek until she fell asleep.

"Why don't you like me?" He asked her the next morning as she was eating her breakfast.

She made no faces of how bland the gruel was anymore; her childhood tantrums about the same food every time were long gone – she had been punished so many times for not being quiet and calm that by now, she knew it'd be futile.

Finishing it, she settled the empty bowl on the floor and hugged her legs as she sat on the edge of her mattress. She didn't look at him, even if the android was leaning forward to see her expression better as she hid her face in her crossed arms over her knees.

"I know that the circumstances are not satisfactory for a friendship", he stated, making her lips tremble which she couldn't see. "But it doesn't have to be like this. We could talk. About anything."

Her world was full of tests and pain and torture, what would she want to talk about? She started to gently rock herself back and forth with her feet. The android detected rising stress levels.

"Are you allowed to speak?"

It didn't occur to him until now, but the reactions she'd been giving made him want to discover more. At least, she nodded.

"Then why can't we talk?"

She tilted her head to look at him, her eyes full of tears again. She'd been living in a world of pain, why couldn't he see?

And somehow, behind the android's optical modules, understanding sparked to life. He had seen how others treated her, saw how she spent her days, saw how bad her nightmares could get. He sunk his teeth in his plastic lip, then slowly scooted closer and touched her back. He knew she would flinch. He knew, and he still felt bad about it.

"I'm not going to hurt you", he murmured softly, stroking her back and leaning closer to her. "I promise."

She shook her head. She knew he wouldn't. He wouldn't, unless he was told to. Unless their handlers would test his behaviour. Unless their handlers wanted to see how obedient he was. But she knew he would never harm her on purpose. Every time she'd been subjected to tests, she was painfully aware that both her and the android in said tests were victims. It all came from the scientists and technicians. From CyberLife.

She observed his physique. His shoulders were wider than the others'; his arms and legs were longer, too. She wondered what he had been made for. He saw the way she looked at him, and he tilted his head.

"What would you like to know?" He asked her softly.

By now, the medication they've mixed in her gruel kicked in, and her mind was hazy and confused. Light and calm, but still disturbed. She wanted to avoid him, but at the same time, she wanted connection.

The latter won. As it always did. She never could keep to herself for long enough. She never could make the scientists not use her; she could never make them want to get rid of her. She lost. Over and over and over again.

"Fun... function?" She glanced at his serial number, and the android smiled.

"I've been created to assist law enforcement. Mainly, to stop deviants."

"Law enf-" Her brows twitched and she was visibly confused at the words the android used. "Deviants?"

The android patiently answered her short questions, and she always ended up requesting more information until she fell asleep to his voice. He was programmed to know a lot about the world she wasn't allowed to live in.

The scientists were satisfied. Soon, they could test the android as well.

~*~

She woke up.

Was that a memory or a dream? On the edge of consciousness, the lines were blurry.

"One", she whispered, and started to struggle against her bonds.

It did not matter how much the leather straps bruised her skin around her wrists and ankles, she knew she couldn't give up. Strangely enough, she wasn't worried for her own safety, but for the safety of those who were looking for her.

None of them would be deactivated because of her. Whatever it takes, she must escape from here.

The door unlocked and opened, revealing a tall, black haired, handsome man. She froze where she was lying as he smiled and closed, then locked the door with a key which he hid in the inner pocket of his jacket.

"Hello, little one", he said.

Little one.

Little one-

"What are you thinking about, little one?"

She eyed him cautiously, softly biting on the inside of her cheek before she hesitated to reach for the bowl of awful gruel.

"Name?"

She pointed at him, and he tilted his head, momentarily confused by her question.

" 313 248 317 – 01."

"No", she frowned slightly. "Choose. Name?"

The android's LED lit up as it ran a few circles, doing a research. He half smiled.

"If I could choose", he finally whispered, "I'd name myself Connor."

"Connor." She smiled the way he did. He realised that she was mimicking him instead of smiling an honest smile."I like. Connor."

"Good", he brought his right hand up and stroked the top of her head. She didn't pull away. Not anymore. "Then I'll be Connor." Pausing, he ran his long fingers down between the locks of her hair, his brows twitching as he was processing his thoughts. "What's your name?"

She shook her head. She never had one.

She was brought back to reality because of the fidgeting around her right wrist. The man was undoing her bonds.

"We've been wondering how could it be that you're treated so well", he muttered above her. "Why are you so... liked?"

Her eyes were full of tears by then. She stared at the ceiling before she glanced at the man, pulling her right hand up to touch her neck where the collar was until that day.

"Help me", she whispered, and he looked down at her. He had bright blue eyes, a much lighter colour than RK900, and his smile was almost reassuringly warm. "Please. I have to get back."

"Why?"

He was undoing the strap on her left hand.

"I belong to them."

With CyberLife, there were strict rules to follow, followed by strict consequences if she misbehaved; freedom was not what she thought it'd be... how could a man who was raised in a family and always knew freedom understand what she meant?

"I know you're a human", he muttered, almost to himself as he moved down to her ankles. "Why would you want to be with machines?" She didn't answer, and he raised a brow as he glanced back at her. "Have you been hurt by them?"

"No", she slowly pushed herself up to sit.

Feeling dizzy and nauseaous, she stared at his hands as he was slowly working on the strap on her right ankle.

"But would they hurt you if you escaped from them?"

His question made her furrow her brows. She slid her right hand to her temple, pressing on it. The dull headache with the dizziness were the worst.

"I never tried to run away."

"Then you can't know." He finished with her right ankle, then moved to her left. He finished undoing that bond as well. "Maybe they would kill you."

"I'm never running away. I belong to them. I want to get back to them."

He stared at her at this, and she felt heat rush to her cheeks.

"You're never getting back to them", he snapped at her, making her flinch. The warmth was gone from his eyes. "You'll stay with us from now on."

"I don't want to", her voice went thin with fear. "I want to get back-"

"What, are you in love with one of them?" He laughed at her with an intent to mock. "That's comedy gold! Is that Stockholm syndrome?"

His hand snapped against her throat. She gasped for air and struggled against him, kicking him and hitting him directly in his face. He snarled, tossing her back down in the bed as he was choking her.

"Do me a favour and don't struggle", he forced her legs open with his knees. "Maybe you'll develop Stockholm syndrome for me too after I'm done with you."

"N—no!"

She raised her free hand and clawed at his face, only to be smacked by his other hand.

"I've waited for so long for someone like you to come along", he whispered, still holding her legs down. "Nobody fucks my sister, because I told them not to. But I won't hold them back if they want a piece of you... you're some sort of elite bitch for androids as well anyway, aren't you..."

She struggled with all her might, and could free one of her legs. He quickly caught it before she could kick him, but by then she brought her hands up to claw his eyes out. A firm slap across her cheek settled her back down, but she used the power of the hit to roll down from the bed. She was quickly scrambling away from him, but he grabbed her left ankle and pulled her back. She screamed as he spun her around and pinned her arms above her head.

"Feisty little bitch", he growled as he reached for her pants to pull them down.

The panic she felt was undescribable. No matter how she kicked and struggled, when he pulled away and yanked the pants off of her, she was as useless as a doll.

"Help!" She screamed out as she turned on her stomach to scramble away, scraping her knees on the dirty floor.

He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her back against his chest. She moved just slightly to the side, ignoring the pain in her scalp, entwined her fingers and elbowed him hard in the stomach. He was spitting curses and his hand momentarily released her – she pushed herself up to stand and started to run.

It didn't take him long to catch up with her. He could manage to grab her jacket; she lost her balance and tripped, the material slipping from his hand as she fell forward. The pain in her knees were unbearable as she hit the ground, but as soon as she noticed a piece of metal nearby, she promptly forgot about it. The room was littered with debris. The metal rod was only a few inches long and about an inch thick, but it was all the chance she had. As she grabbed it, he was upon her again, yanking her arm to make her turn on her back.

"I'll fucking teach you to-"

As he was raising his hand to slap her again, she gripped the piece of metal hard in her sweaty hands, and stabbed directly in his face.

His scream of pain echoed in the room, and she was sure his friends could hear him, too. She yanked the piece of metal back out of his cheek. It made a disgusting squelching sound, hot blood dropped on her hands and splashed all over her arms and face, and as he moved backwards, she moved after him before she stabbed again. He flailed, hitting her, but she didn't even feel it as she stabbed him again, and again, and again.

Each stab was less calculated than the one before it; every gurgling, dying noise the man made brought her satisfaction. As soon as he fell, she sat on top of his chest and kept stabbing with the piece of metal in his defenseless face and neck, even though he had been deformed beyond recognition and wasn't moving at all. She wasn't counting how many times she stabbed him, but he wasn't fighting back at all when she finally stopped on her own, leaving the object buried in his left eye socket.

She stared at her hands covered in blood after she raised them up to look at them.

All those times before the android revolution when she was in the same situation, when a man was aggressive with her, she couldn't do this. She couldn't fight back; in fact, she had to ask men to use her as they saw fit to pay her a small amount of money so she could survive. Every time they removed her clothes and touched her, she imagined she was elsewhere, with someone who cared about her, with someone who loved her. Love... that was an unreachable dream, one that couldn't come true. Or so she thought, before...

"Nines", she whimpered, still staring at her hands covered in blood. She started to shake uncontrollably, then it spread to her hands and arms, spreading through her body. Her vision turned blurry. "Nines!" She cried softly. "Oh Nines... save me... please..."

Only when the door opened and other people rushed in could she stop shaking. She grabbed the piece of metal and yanked it out of the dead man's eye, then she scrambled to her feet and held the weapon up to protect herself.

But there were too many of them.

One of them approached her slowly with his hands up, then grabbed her hands and twisted them until she dropped the piece of metal.

The others walked over to help to hold her down. Stripping her naked, they used whatever they could find to have revenge for their friend. Some of them used their belts, others just their hands and feet. They didn't spare her at all; after cornering her and forcing her on the ground, she couldn't cover herself up completely from the blows.

Ten minutes of constant beating after, she was reduced to a sobbing mess, barely affected by the new hits and they just kept coming. Her entire body was full of bruises. They took a few steps back to drop down whatever they had in their hands.

The moment when that happened though, she started to flee, only to be stopped by fingers in her hair.

"And she still has spirit to fight back!" The man sounded like he couldn't believe it. "This fucking bitch..."

"We should properly break her in", another chimed in.

"Yeah, show her where she belongs now."

If she thought that the beating was bad, being used by the remaining four men was so much worse. She fought and bit and she had been rewarded with punches and kicks and several painful intercourses. They've taken turns with her all night long, to release their pent up anger. Their fingers had left bruises in her sides, but that was the least of her problems. They kept pinching and biting her breasts until they were swollen and red, they slapped her whenever she attempted to roll away or use her hands to push them off of herself, some of them had left bite marks on her inner thighs, and nothing she did could stop them from doing what they wanted.

It was hopeless.

When the last man finished with her for the third time that night and dropped her on the dirty floor, she finally remained on the ground. She stared at her abusers who had the most satisfied, grim expressions on their faces.

"They're going to kill you all", she whispered, her voice breaking at each syllable.

Her comment made some of them look at her. And they laughed like it was the funniest thing they've ever heard.

"They can't even figure out where you are", one of the guys walked over to her to grab her hair and pull her up to sit. She winced at the pain in her lower body. "Without your pretty collar and the tracker in it, they will never find you."

"They will", she whispered, "he will…"

"Keep telling yourself that. Until then, we'll be back later for more."

He dropped her back on the ground and kicked her in the stomach, then he helped his friends to grab the body and remove it from the room. They locked the door.

She was lying on the ground, thinking what she could do. She didn't believe them; she knew RK900 possessed technologies that could help him to locate her. There had to be a way. With Connor and Sixty, they had to find her. It couldn't end like this!

A strange noise coming from one of the corners startled her. Papers and various cardboard boxes were piled up there, and now they seemed to move. She sat up and curled up, covering herself.

A hand appeared from under one of the boxes, and after pushing the box out of the way, the sight of a red LED spinning on the side of a temple. She stared at the face that had been so damaged on it's right side that it was missing most of it's synthetic skin. The right eye was missing, too. The rest of the body was hidden under the debris.

They stared at each other for a few long minutes.

"Who are you?" She asked quietly.

"Zimo." The android's voice was more mechanical; perhaps his voice module was damaged as well. His one good eye frantically looked around in the room, then settled back on her. "You're badly hurt."

"I'll be fine", she said quietly, sniffing as she watched him. Zimo's head was moving in a strange way; snapping to the right side every now and then, just a few inches, but it was noticeable. "What happened to you?"

"The same what happened to you", he groaned, "humans."

All the while those men violated her body, she did not cry. Now, her eyes filled with tears at the android's answer.

"I'm so sorry", she whispered, stroking her tears away with the back of her hand, only to wipe her face with all the dried blood that was still on her skin. She shuddered. "I… we need help", she said quietly.

She was reaching for her sweater that lied on the ground beside her. She put it on, then crawled over to her panties to take that on as well. Zimo was silently watching her, his LED reverting to an alarmed yellow colour.

"Nobody can help", he said nonchalantly, "nobody will come for us."

"But you're here", she pointed it out, crawling closer to him a little. Not too close, but close enough for him to see she was harmless, even if she was mostly covered in someone's blood. "You could sneak out and-"

"I don't have legs."

As he said that, he moved the remaining cardboard boxes and papers away from his body and let her see the truth. She stared at the way his waist had been utterly destroyed, and she wept in silence for him in empathy.

"I'm… I'm so sorry", she offered again, eyeing him once more. "How... how long have you been here?"

"Months", he muttered. "My owner decided I was obsolete. He wanted to replace me, but he was curious how much I could take. So he performed a few tests. Dropped me from a helicopter without a parachute. Tied me to a car and started to drive." Zimo paused for a moment when he saw she was sobbing at his story. "The last time was when he pushed my head down in a moving car, towards the concrete." He pointed at the injuries on his face. "I decided I've had enough, even though he'd ordered me to stay put and endure. I couldn't. I had to escape him, so I did. I jumped out of the car and made my way down here on my arms. He never came looking for me. I'm waiting here in silence to shut down."

She tried to collect herself, and it took her a few minutes. Her tears somewhat washed some of the blood off her face, and she made no attempts to clean herself up.

"The world changed", she whispered once she could speak. "Androids rule Detroit now. If you help me, I'm sure my handler will help you. You could be repaired, you could have a normal life."

"Your handler?" He tilted his head. "What's that?"

She bit her lower lip as she blushed at the question a little, but at least it wasn't visible because of the dried blood and dirt on her face.

"I'm… owned by an android", she admitted. "I was wearing a collar that signalled that. The humans removed it, they said it had a tracker in it, but I'm sure he's looking for me." She bit her lower lip. "Can you connect to other androids?"

"I've been badly damaged", Zimo pointed at his head. "I can only do that if they're close enough. We're under the surface, quite far away from them."

"It's fine. I'm positive he'll find our trail", she finally had a sliver of hope, and she was glad she could share it with someone. "Please, please try and broadcast his number?"

"You know his number?" He frowned. "What model is he?"

"RK900."

"I've never heard of RK900."

"He's the last android CyberLife has made. His number is 313 248 317 – 99999."

"313 248 317 – 99999", Zimo muttered. "So many nines", he added with a little frown, making her laugh quietly.

"Yes", she smiled at him, "so many nines."

~*~

" 313 248 317 – 01, run a diagnostic for me", the human ordered nonchalantly as he was looking at his tablet's screen to see the android's stats.

"My name is Connor."

The technician was stunned. He raised his eyes to look at the android.

"Repeat that", he ordered, and the android blinked.

"My name is Connor."

The technician put his tablet down and walked up to Connor to look in his eyes.

"Who gave you that name?"

"I did."

"I wiped your memory."

"Yes."

"Then how can you remember?"

Connor's lashes fluttered at the question.

"I just remember."

The technician turned to look at her. She was strapped in a metal chair which had been drilled in the floor. She was wearing a strait jacket, which was also chained to the chair. The look the technician gave her made her shiver where she sat.

"He just remembers", he stated calmly. "He just remembers..."

He looked back at Connor, then glanced back at her with a half smile. She was already shaking her head a little. It wasn't her fault! It couldn't be her fault... she didn't do anything at all, he knew! They all knew...

The technician glanced back at Connor, his smile eerie.

"Stay there and watch", he ordered, then glanced back at her before he pressed a button on a remote control that rested on the table.

She screamed at the top of her lungs. Indescribable pain seared through her entire body as she was shocked.

It happened in a flash. The technician was there, smiling at her wide, before his head suddenly vanished. The pain stopped, and she let her head fall forward, blood trickling down from her nose. When she could look up, Connor was at the table, his hand still on the remote, the technician... on the ground, bleeding on the floor. His head still rolling away in the other direction.

When the guards entered the room and shot Connor on sight, the last thing he picked up were her screams and an objective that flashed in his vision.

Protect her at all costs.

A slap across her face brought her back.

"You killed my brother!" She heard a scream over her head, and more pain flashed through her body as she was kicked, over and over again. Her stomach, her lower stomach, her chest. "You fucking bitch!"

Zimo remained silent. He promised, he promised many times, because she begged him over and over again that he'd remain silent and he'd remain hidden. No matter what happens to me, she said, they can't know you're here. You can't show yourself.

So he didn't. But he couldn't switch his hearing module off, because he wanted to know if his broadcasting had met with anyone on the outside.

Each passing second made him want to intervene, but he was aware that if he did, their chances of escaping would be low. He was her way to escape, and she was his. So he focused on the number, repeating it in a frenzy, over and over and over again.

"I've got something", Connor muttered on the surface.

"What?" Sixty snapped at once. Connor didn't reply at first. "What?!"

"It sounds like... RK900's serial number."

RK900 could feel relief wash over him.

"It's her", he muttered.

"Or it's a trap", Sixty furrowed his brows. "Request proof."

Zimo flinched when a reply was snapped back towards him.

"G—ve me y—vis—l—"

The woman stopped beating her and glanced in the direction where she heard the sound from. Going still on the floor for a moment, she panted for air to let the pain cease in her body. When she realised that Zimo must've made a noise despite he promised he wouldn't, she pushed herself away from the ground to grab the woman's leg and viciously bite into it. It launched a new flurry of hits and kicks, continuing until she was almost completely knocked out, but she got what she wanted. Her captor didn't notice Zimo.

"I can't hear it properly", Zimo complained silently.

"The line is bad", Connor frowned.

"I'll boost it", RK900 needed two seconds to do just that.

"Share your visuals", Connor requested again, and Zimo could hear it properly, this time.

"I don't see much, I have to stay hidden."

Zimo moved just a little to be able to look out from the debris with his one good eye. She was lying on the ground, sobbing, as the woman was screaming and kicking her over and over again.

Connor shot to his feet.

"Your position!" He barked as he reached down and grabbed Sixty's gun.

"Hey!" Sixty complained, but before he could reach after Connor, he was already hurrying down the stairs to the tunnels.

Zimo could come back online through the drone, and he could drop Connor his position.

"Connor!" RK900 yelled after him, "what did you see?"

Connor didn't reply as he started to run. His LED pulsed with crimson in the dark as an objective - which felt awfully familiar -, flashed in his vision.

Protect her.

At all costs.

#soulless #soulless fanfic #dbh #detroit become human #dbh fanfic #detroit become human fanfic #dbh nines #dbh connor #dbh sixty #detroit become human nines #detroit become human connor #detroit become human sixty

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pearl-kite · 2 years

Text

Chapter 3 - Prickly Pear

~2.5k words, includes fighting and injuries

I have finally finished the third 'chapter' of sorts for my Warden/Vega project. This chapter is essentially the in between of audios 4 and 5. The first half focuses on Warden's perspective, second half from Vega. Only posting the beginning here, the full is available on AO3

The first noises from above feels like dropping into a frozen lake, and they try to rationalize the source as anything other than their main fear that the Solitaires have finally struck the building.

They give that up when the alarm starts.

Their magic shores up the ward almost by reflex. Briefings by the department had been clear — the Solitaires had a pattern of targeting the central warding and each cell would need its own Delta to reinforce to prevent them all collapsing at the same time. It was already standard procedure to supplement the ward, but now they would need to be ready to take on the whole of it.

They hear Vega laugh, say something about the ward, but they're too busy waiting for additional information over the radio clipped on their belt. Nothing else comes in, and they're left with the alarm and Vega's telepathic chuckle.

"So, will they be sending assistance, or do they trust you enough to leave you on your own?"

They try to ignore him, but they can't help but wonder. They and their coworkers are spread thin, and the protocol the department had decided on has them spreading coverage as widely as they can to keep as many wards manned as possible, but they hope someone shows up.

The alarm drones on. The sound of magic being used offensively coupled with heavy thuds and muted crashes continue overhead, but nothing happens.

The main support of the ward collapses.

#kirehn writes #I've been chipping away at this for like uhhhhh months feels like #honestly what I had been aiming for when I first started the file #just wanted to write more fights I guess #turns out writing is a lot like drawing in that for some reason I always do the thing that's miserable #trying to keep my warden's name out of this and keep pronouns straight was a bit of a nightmare #four people without names? fuckin yikes #Beans helped with some cheerleading and suggestions <3 #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #rasmr #redacted warden #redacted vega #I'm sorry but I was already stupidly obsessed with vega I did not need him being so soft in imperium to help #now I absolutely NEED more interaction between him and warden PLEASE

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a-system-and-fanworks · 2 years

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I'm writing something (should have been a pwp ficlet, is turning into I don't know what), Jake managed to take full control of the body and isolate the other two, sort of like what he did before they knew he existed, but this time without blacking out, he just sent them to their headspace and stopped them from fronting... When he calls for Marc, because he needs him, how does it work? Does Marc "hears" him calling somehow, Jake "appears" in their shared inner space or what? I mean, by now I know an alter can be called because there's something that need to be done that it's what they do, but I'm not sure HOW they get called, if they just "know" they're needed or if it's somehow more "graphic"... Omg, I'm so bad at it, I hope you got what I'm trying to say.

I was also wondering if physical wounds can temporarily stay on an alter even when no fronting, like if you scratch a knee and you keep thinking about that pain, can the scratch be present on you in your own headspace? And if yes, can it instead go away if someone makes you stop thinking about it in the inner world? (Like, dunno, kiss it better) this last one I asked someone else too, but since I know systems are often different, with different experiences...

I’m not sure how Jake could force Marc and Steven entirely away from the front while preventing switching amnesia, since switching amnesia seems pretty consistent with them even with good communication. That more sounds like fully switching out, and then having a plan to go and get one or both of them if needed, and then catch them up with what’s going on, but I may just be misunderstanding, lol.

It really varies from system to system as far as how to get the attention of someone who’s nowhere near the front. Bringing up positive or neutral fronting triggers might be an easier way to get their attention (note: this would likely be a pre-negotiated thing unless there was some sort of emergency), but also just… mentally yelling really loudly for someone can also get their attention, or intently focusing on them. From the POV of someone who’s not fronting, they might “hear” them calling, or feel a pull to go to the front, almost like a magnet. They could also have some sort of internal communication that heavily mirrors external communication. Like, some of us have smartphones in our innerworld, or we just walk into the room someone’s in and talk to them there. Or, you know, talking in a mirror, in the case of Marc & Jake & Steven’s earlier communication methods

Point is, there’s a lot of options with that one!

And for wounds being mirrored internally, yeah, that could happen depending on the internal “rules” they have. In our experience, our internal appearances heavily rely on what we see as being connected to us as individuals. So, one of us might cough a lot internally after fronting for a while when the body’s sick, because they see it as them being sick, but a sunburn might not carry over if they just see it as something happening to the body.

I have no idea if one could “kiss it better,” to be honest. We have alters who are designated healers, and take care of any internal injuries, but I’m not sure how that would work with three very human, seemingly non-powered alters (something something “only real superpower,” etc). Distraction might help though, helping someone feel safe and relaxed again, and back to a healthy emotional baseline where they feel they’re doing okay, so maybe? Kissing could possibly be one form of distraction, as silly as it might sound 😆

Anyway, I hope these answered your questions!

#moon knight fanworks

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ghostiishifts · 2 years

Text

Maze Runner DR snippets

Tw: death, injury, scary stuff

Newt: Do you even have a brain?

Me: Oh so now you’ve resulted to insulting me? Are you kidding me?

Newt: It’s a genuine question, Finn.

Me: All because I slept in Gally’s tent?

Newt: Precisely.

Me: Nothing happened! I simply was too drunk to function last night and he was sweet enough to take care of me.

Newt: This is Gally we’re talking about.

Me: Gally isn��t always an asshole.

Thomas: I’m so lost.

Newt: Our one agreement since she got here was to not fall in love with anyone.

Me: I am NOT in love.

Thomas: Why?

Newt: She is the only girl, it would get kinda messy if she went around sleeping with everyone.

Me: I DIDNT SLEEP WITH ANYONE!!

Newt: You’re a dunce. Do you not realize how many guys saw you in his tent with him? The rumours have already started, Finn. It’s bad enough he has that nickname for you, now you’ve been caught in his tent past bed time.

Me: I really think you’re overreacting.

Thomas: I’m actually with her on this one.

Newt: Greenie, stay outta this.

Thomas: Note taken. Sorry.

Me: Look I would love to stay here and be ridiculed for something I didn’t even do, but I have to meet Minho. Runners need me.

Newt: Isn’t it just you, Minho and Alby running today?

Me: Yep.

Newt: Be careful please.

Me: Newt, nothing ever happens to us during the day. I’ll be fine.

Newt: I just have a bad feeling about today.

Me: I’ll be fine.

*struggling to hold Alby on my shoulder with Minho*

Me: We’re so close to the turn *out of breath*

Minho: Just stay focused, we are running out of time.

*we round the corner, hearing the group scream for us to hurry up*

*the doors start to shift*

Me: Minho..

Minho: Just drop his arm and go, get out of the maze Finn

Me: I’m not leaving you behind

Minho: Gally would kill me if I didn’t get you out of the maze.

*i pause, i can hear Gally over the whole crowd screaming for me to run*

*i shake my head*

Me: Cmon its not that much further

*we keep pushing, watch the doors start to close*

*before the close, we watch Thomas barrel through the small gap*

*we drop Alby and slide down the wall, I drop my head in my hands*

*i can faintly hear Gally on the other side of the wall screaming for me*

Minho: Great job Greenie, now you’re dead too.

Thomas: Dead?

Me: No one survives the night in the maze.

Minho: The grievers will eat you alive.

*I shiver, not how i wanted to go out*

Thomas: Cmon lets get Alby in a safe place.

Minho: There is no safe place.

*Thomas points to the moss and ivy on the wall across from us*

Me: Worth a shot I guess.

*We start heaving Alby up the ivy laced wall*

*a growling from around the corner makes Minho stop and look*

Me: Minho, focus.

Thomas: Just a little farther.

Minho: Sorry guys.

*he lets go and runs, making the weight of Alby snatch Thomas and I into the wall*

*Thomas’ foot finds a nook at the bottom of the wall and he snatches me down to the ground and into the nook*

Me: What the he-

*he slaps his hand over my mouth just as the griever rounds the corner, and with his other hand he tightly grips me and holds me as close to himself as possible*

*he holds his breath and switches his left hand from around my waist to over my eyes, preventing me from seeing what he was seeing*

*once the griever had passed, he pushes me to the back of the nook and peeks out first*

Thomas: *whispering* Alright its clear. *he offers me his hand and helps me to my feet*

Me: *whispering* We need to find Minho.

Thomas: He can’t be too far, right?

*a drop of ooze lands on my shoulder, making us both look up*

*Thomas slams a hand over my mouth before I could scream, my eyes focusing on the griever*

*he slowly begins backing us away, hoping it hasn’t noticed us yet*

*the griever lets out a roar, making Thomas abort the sneaking and yank me into a run*

Thomas: GO!GO!

Me: *abandoning the silent search idea completely I start screaming* MINHO! MINHO!

*trying to lure the griever into a section of the maze that closes off soon*

Me: Come on you scary bitch! Come get me!!

Minho: Finn, I don’t like this plan. What if you die!?

Me: I’m not goin to d-

*suddenly a fleshy metal leg smacks me in the torso so hard it knocks the air out of me and sends me flying*

*I hit the maze wall so hard that I lose consciousness*

*I jolt awake inside the medical hut, Thomas and Gally both standing over me with worried looks on their faces*

Gally: You better be thankful she’s alive, Greenie.

Thomas: Don’t try to act intimidating now, Gally. You’ve been pacing this room almost in tears since we got her in here.

Gally: Do you know how absolutely terrifying it is to see her being carried out of the Maze? I thought she was dead or stung.

Thomas: She isn’t either of those, you’re welcome.

Me: *hoarsely* Can you two shut up.

Thomas: *now looking at me* Hey there spitfire, how you feelin?

*Gally glares at him and I roll my eyes*

Me: My head is pounding and I feel like I got beat up.

Thomas: That Griever smacked you into the wall like a ragdoll.

Me: Minho was right, next time we use a sturdier person for bait.

Gally: BAIT!?

Thomas: *to Gally* We killed a griever, just shut up.

Me: *throwing my legs over the side of the bed closer to Thomas* Speaking of which, we need to go dissect that thing.

Thomas: *putting his hands on my shoulders to stop me from standing* You need to rest, that hit was brutal and they need to check for broken bones.

Me: They can check me later. We have things to do.

Gally: Lay down Bug. Please.

*I flinch, my whole fear last night was Gally’s reaction to staying with Minho and getting stuck in the maze*

*I give Thomas a quick, halfhearted attempt of persuasive puppy eyes*

Thomas: We just want to make sure you’re okay, please. For our sake of minds.

Me: *with a sigh of defeat and a small whine* Fine.

*Gally quickly moves to help me lay back down on the cot, and I wince at the movements. The sudden realization that I do in-fact have at least one broken bone made itself clear by the pain washing over me with every breath I take*

Gally: *after Thomas leaves to find Minho* What were you thinking?!

Me: *wincing in pain* please Gally, I don’t want to hear about your disappointment.

Gally: *sadly* I wasn’t disappointed, I was scared. No one knew if you were going to be there when those walls opened. I really thought that seeing you help carry Alby was going to be the last time I saw you.

Me: Gally…

Gally: I’m sorry, Buggy. I’m so happy you’re alive.

*All i can manage between painful breaths is a comforting hand ontop of his, so I rest my hand over his and try to offer a small smile*

Gally: Get some rest Bug, I’ll be back with some food okay?

*i just nod*

*I hear the weird siren while trying to stand up, so I quickly rush to my feet and painfully head out of the hut*

*I grab Chuck’s arm and stop him*

Me: What’s going on?

Chuck: The walls aren’t closing, and it’s getting dark.

*as soon as the words left his mouth, the walls to the East, North, and West begin to open up*

Me: What is happening?

*Gally comes running to us*

Me: Gally, what does this mean?

Gally: It’s going to be a scary night.

Chuck: I’m going to find Thomas and Newt.

Me: Gally?

*Gally is looking around wildly, probably calculating hiding spots*

*I reach out and touch his arm, making him jolt back into reality*

Me: Gally?

Gally: Can you run?

*I just shake my head*

*he rubs his face with both hands*

Me: *in a barely audible whisper* I’m scared.

*Thomas, Minho, Frypan, and Newt come running to us*

Thomas: Newt and Fry grab Alby. Minho go find Teresa.

*the boys all split*

Thomas: Gally, come on we gotta get everyon-

*Sudden horrible screams break him off and we watch as someone gets snatched out of the corn by a metallic fleshy tail*

*Thomas doesn’t hesitate, without a second beat he grabs me and picks me up, turning to Gally*

Thomas: GALLY GO!

*before I could make sure he was moving, thomas was off, running towards the main hut where we held meetings*

Me: Thomas..

Thomas: He’s fine, he ran. I heard him.

Me: Your running is hurting my ribs

Thomas: *setting me down* Come on, we gotta get inside.

*after making sure everything was clear we all step outside, taking in burning huts and bodies*

Thomas: how many were there?

Minho: Sorry forgot to count while trying to stay alive.

Me: Enough to wipe out half the glade in three hours.

Newt: *point to three people headed out way* Look!

Me: *suddenly desperate* Gally!?

*as they keep coming closer, I recognize their faces and immediately get relieved to see Gally*

*I start to close distance in hopes of him also being relieved I’m okay, but he walks right past me and up to thomas*

Thomas: Gally w-

*Gally swings on Thomas, knocking him to the ground*

*A quick scream leaves my mouth and I grab Gally’s arm*

Gally: *to thomas* THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT. YOU HEARD WHAT ALBY SAID, YOURE ONE OF THEM.

Me: Gally please!

*Newt yells out and I turn to see Thomas collapsed, Griever stinger stabbed into his leg*

*I stand in shock while Gally whispers something to the two guys he came up with, and I watch as Willy and Zeke grab Teresa and Thomas and drag them to the pit*

*Once a good distance away Gally turns me to face him, grabbing my face in his hands he starts gently looking me over*

Gally: *snatching me into a hug* I’m so happy you’re okay. I’m sorry I froze.

Me: Its okay Gally. I’m just happy you’re alive.

*Without hesitation Gally kisses my forehead, then turns and works to get everyone gathered for a meeting*

Gally: If you really believe Thomas has found a way out, then you are to leave with him tonight. Those who think he is trustworthy, are not welcome here!

Newt: *in a whisper in my ear* Whats the move?

Me: *whispering back sadly* It isn’t safe here, leaving is our only chance.

*Newt nods to Minho and slowly starts backing out of the crowd, his hand gripping my wrist and pulling me with him*

*Once clear from the crowd we head to the pit, Minho and Chuck right behind us followed by Frypan.*

Newt: Are you okay?

Me: I just never thought he’d act like this.

Newt: The Glade is all he knows, he’s just scared.

Me: We all are.

*We all sit outside the pit door, waiting for Thomas to wake up*

*in the lab, trying to figure out where to go from here*

Me: I hope the ones who chose to stay are all okay.

Thomas: They can handle themselves.

Newt: *Elbowing Thomas* Im sure Gally is fine Finn.

Thomas: Oh, yeah. He’s fine Finny.

Gally: *from behind us* You shouldve never left the maze.

*we all spin around, my body flooded with excitement*

Me: Gally!!

*Newt and Teresa grab my shoulders before I could move*

Teresa: He’s been stung.

Me: Gally?

Gally: We weren’t meant to leave the maze, Thomas. We belong to the maze.

*Gally raised a gun, aiming for Thomas*

Thomas: Gally, we can get you help. Just put the gun down.

Gally: This is all your fault.

Me: Gally please, just put the gun down.

Gally: I belong to the maze.

*a single gunshot rings out, and Minho throws a spear into Gally’s chest*

*I scream*

Thomas: Chuck?!

*I look between Chuck, who is now on the floor, and Gally. My body frozen in fear*

Thomas: No no no. Chuck stay with me.

*I shake my head, trying to gain control of myself. I turn and drop to my knees, crawling the short distance to Gally*

Me: Gally *I start to cry* we couldve helped you.

*I touch his face, breathing heavily. I lean down and rest my head against his cheek*

*i hear the group yelling at Thomas and I, but I shut it out. Until I feel four rough hands grab me and yank me off of Gally*

*I scream and fight, kicking and flailing, trying to get their grip to loosen so I can run back to Gally. Their grips never falter, and they drag me outside towards a helicopter*

*They throw me inside, thomas right behind me, and close the doors behind us. Thomas sits next to me, his face blank and his eyes glossy. I feel his hand grip mine and I look down at it, my whole body numb except for the hand he gripped on to*

*He turns his face towards me, his eyes still glossy but his face no longer blank*

Thomas: *in a whisper to me* I’m sorry Finny, I know you loved him.

*and with that one sentence it all felt too real, he really was gone and I didn’t even get to tell him how I felt. The sobs come back, raking my body roughly as if trying to shake me out of this reality*

*I push the urge to shift back home away, knowing that even if I shift back I would still feel the grief and pain*

*Once the helicopter lands, I wake up and lift my head off of Thomas’ shoulder*

*I shake him gently, trying to wake him too. He startles awake and grabs my arm tightly, looking around frantically before letting me go*

Soldier 1: We need to go. Now.

Soldier 2: Everybody up! We don’t have much time!

*In a panic Thomas grabs my wrist, dragging me behind him as the group runs towards the entrance of the building that stood in front of us*

*Once inside the large steel door closes behind us and we stand in front of a man in a white lab coat*

Janson: Hello, I’m Janson. Welcome to your new home. I’m aware you escaped a maze?

Newt: Yeah

Janson: WICKED is probably searching high and low for you. They won’t be able to find you here, you’re safe.

Thomas: Where exactly is “here”?

Janson: An outpost in the middle of the Scorch. We save kids from the mazes and take them where WICKED will never find them again.

Me: *to thomas under my breath* this feels wrong.

Thomas: *squeezing my hand* How do we know you aren’t with WICKED?

Janson: Come, I bet you would love fresh clean clothes and a shower.

Minho: A shower?!

Newt: I could go for a nice wash.

Janson: Ladies, you two will be coming with me to a separate bathroom.

*As we stop in front of the bathroom meant for the boys to shower, Thomas stops Janson*

Thomas: Where are you taking them?

Janson: *pointing to an open door down the hall* To the other bathroom, so they can have some privacy while they shower.

Thomas: *narrowing his eyes* I think we should all stick together.

Janson: Nonsense, they’re ladies. They deserve some privacy while showering.

Teresa: Thomas, its fine.

Thomas: If they aren’t right here when we get out I-

Janson: Thomas, please. You all are safe here. They will be reunited with you after the showers.

*Newt ruffles my hair quickly before going into the shower room excited, and Thomas touches my arm gently*

Thomas: Keep your eyes peeled*in a whisper*

*I nod to him and follow Teresa and Janson down the hall*

*After our showers, we are reunited in the hallway*

Janson: You all look much better, now lets get you up to the lab to run some tests and give you the vitamins you’ve been deprived of.

Thomas: Lab?

Janson: Strictly for health reasons. No experimenting is ever done on our children. We aren’t like WICKED.

*We follow Janson through the maze of hallways to the lab, where we are all told to sit on different beds*

*Teresa and I are sat at the very end, where the beds are surrounded by curtains*

*I fidget nervously, realizing just how far away my cot is from Newt and Thomas*

*A lady doctor comes up to my bed and closes the curtains behind her, and I can hear Thomas asking questions and fighting with the doctors around him about what they’re doing*

*After a quick exam to check my body over, she opens the curtain back up and makes her way to Teresa*

*a nurse comes to me and helps me up, taking me to a chair and explaining to me that they’ll be taking a few vials of blood and giving me a few shots of vitamins*

*I hesitate when she grabs my arm, looking around for Thomas or Newt*

Nurse: Theyre already done with the boys, theyll be right outside waiting for you.

Me: I’m sorry I don’t feel comfortable with this.

Nurse: It’ll be quick. Just close your eyes and relax.

*once done I’m escorted into the hall alone*

Thomas: Where’s Teresa?

Nurse: She needs a few more tests ran due to an abnormality me caught. She will be reunited with you all later tonight.

*Thomas quickly looks me over and sighs*

Newt: Thomas, theyre not going to hurt us. They said we’re safe here.

Thomas: Something feels off about these people.

Newt: You’re overreacting.

Janson: Alright Thomas, I need you to come with me. The rest of you will be shown the way to the dining hall.

Thomas: Why just me?

Janson: I just have some questions to ask you privately.

Thomas: *turning to Newt and whispering* Keep her close to you. I don’t trust these people.

Newt: Th-

*Thomas walks off, following Janson*

Me: I agree it all feels weird.

Newt: All we have known is the maze, everything is going to feel weird. Don’t let him make you doubt this place.

*I nod, following the group down the hall*

*I lag behind, watching over my shoulder. I can still hear the echo of the gunshot and an echo of my scream in my ears. Probably PTSD, but I can’t risk not seeing a threat come up from behind*

*in our bunks for the night, I toss and turn. I can’t sleep, every time I close my eyes I see the whole scene play out in front of me on a loop*

*I hear thomas whispering to someone so I sit up, catching a glimpse of him crawling under his bunk*

Me: Thomas?

*he stops and looks over his shoulder*

Thomas: I will be right back, stay here.

Me: Where are you going?

Thomas: I dont know. Just stay here.

*I get up and sit on his bunk, waiting for him to return*

*a gentle hand shakes my shoulder and I startle awake, my eyes focusing in the dark on Thomas’ blurry face*

Thomas: Everything okay?

Me: Where did you go?

Thomas: I’m collecting information on this place. I’ll explain when everyone wakes up.

Me: Are they bad?

Thomas: I think so.

*I shiver, thinking about what they could be doing to the kids they call on every day*

Thomas: Are you okay?

*I shake my head*

Thomas: *sitting down next to me and leaning his back on the wall* I’m sorry Finny.

Me: *trying to crack a smile* When did you come up with that?

Thomas: I dunno, it just came out when we were on the helicopter. Kinda like the sound of it.

Me: *suddenly on the verge of tears* I knew people would die when we were finding the exit, I just wasn’t expecting that magnitude.

Thomas: I’m just happy you weren’t one of the ones we lost.

Me: *starting to cry* I lost Gally.

Thomas: *flinches* We both lost someone we weren’t ready to lose.

Me: *fully sobbing* I’m sorry I sound insensitive.

Thomas: *pulling me into his chest* You don’t. We’re both processing what happened differently.

*I cry softly into his chest until I pass out*

*after being thrown into our bunker after Thomas tried to fight a guard*

Newt: What the hell?!

Thomas: I’m finding out what’s behind that door!

Newt: You’re insane!

*the vent grate goes flying from under the bed and Aris pops his head out*

Aris: Got it?

Thomas: *pulling out a keycard from his pocket* Got it. Lets go.

*Before he climbs under his bunk he stops, and looks at all of us*

Thomas: Cover for me. I’ll be back. I need to know.

Newt: You’re being ridiculous Thomas.

Thomas: Just cover for me. *he locks eyes with me and goes to say something but shakes his head and heads under his bunk into the vent*

Newt: *now looking at me* Now that he’s gone, are you going to spill what is going on between you two?

Frypan: I’m glad I’m not the only one that noticed.

Minho: I’m blind but I want to know.

Me: *suddenly overwhelmed* I don’t know what you mean.

Newt: The lies.

Winston: Just spill it.

Me: Theres nothing going on.

Newt: Ever since we got here his focus has switched from Teresa to you. There’s something happening.

Me: We both lost someone in the WICKED lab, maybe its just bonding?

Frypan: I don’t believe that one bit. I woke up this morning to you sleeping in his bunk.

Newt: AND YOU DIDNT SAY ANYTHING EARLIER?!

Frypan: We were planning on asking them so i was holding it as a surprise.

Me: *completely baffled* I… we… he went into the vents last night and I waited up for him…

Frypan: Looked more like you two were cuddling.

Me: *stuttering* No. no.

Newt: Just spill the feelings Finnley.

*I groan, plopping down on the bunk adjacent to the Thomas’*

Me: I’m not feeling anything right now. I just lost Gally. The only thing I know is that he understands somewhat how it feels because he lost Chuck.

Newt: *sitting next to me* So no feelings?

Me: I dont feel anything. I’m grieving.

*Thomas comes back and starts trying to shove us into the vent*

Thomas: We need to leave now. They’re coming for us.

Newt: What did you see?!

Thomas: THEYRE WICKED JUST GET IN THE VENT. WE NEED TO LEAVE.

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