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hummingbird-of-light · 16 days

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Round 2: Seventeenth story for @badthingshappenbingo ~

Title: A Piece Of Art

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)

Character(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott, Khan Noonien Singh

Relationship(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott & Montgomery "Scotty" Scott (mentioned)

Rating: M

Words: 1,317

Prompt: Human Shield (used in a kinda abstract way?)

Warnings: Graphic Depiction Of Violence, Blood and Injury, Major Character Death, Disgusting Themes, Swearing, Kidnapping, Skinning, Psychopathology, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

A/N: Based on my June of Doom story "You're doing great"

(You can also find this story on AO3)

~ A Piece Of Art ~

Robert "Robbie" Scott helplessly tried to pull at the restraints that were holding him down. He gritted his teeth in anger, twisting and turning his head as best he could, but found that it was of no use. He was tied to some sort of massage table, lying prone.

A muffled scream was all he was able to produce with a cloth gagging his mouth. Whoever had brought him to this place had definitely planned it.

He chuckled humorlessly. He knew exactly who had brought him to this place. It was the bastard who had kidnapped his brother. The reason why Robbie had come to the States in first place.

When the message about Montgomery Scott being missing had reached his family in Scotland, Robbie had known right away that he needed to get there. He needed to find out what had happened to his big brother.

So he had traveled overseas and within two weeks had gotten closer to an answer than the police ever had in a month.

The brilliant Scotsman had managed to follow every step his brother had taken before he had disappeared. He even had gotten access to some cameras the police had claimed to have been broken during the night of the kidnapping. It had been very hard to restore the 'deleted' footage, but Robert Scott was a damn good hacker.

And there he had seen him. The man his brother had run into on his way back home after work. The man his brother had chatted with for a moment before collapsing into his arms. The man who had 'helped' his brother into a nearby car, only to drive away moments later.

Robbie had thought about showing the footage to the local police, however, since he hadn't gotten the information the legal way, he had chosen to gather more proof first instead.

The Scotsman had thought about all the ways he knew to find someone.

The kidnapper had used a foil so that his license plate was unreadable for cameras.

He had also been smart enough to keep his face away from the cameras.

Robbie's only hope had been to trace the device the man had used to delete the security footage, but that hadn't worked either.

So instead, the Scotsman had focused on his brother's routine. He had visited all the places Monty used to go to.

His favorite café, the shipyard he worked at, the library he often visited, the pool.

And there Robbie had finally found him. The man he had seen in the video. The height, the dark hair, the car — there was no doubt.

Khan Singh, British physiotherapist.

He was the man who had kidnapped Montgomery Scott. And he was the same man who had taken Robbie now.

Tears of despair escaped the Scotsman's eyes as he once again failed to pull at his restraints. If only he had informed the police. If only he had been smarter. If only —

"Mr. Robert Scott."

The deep voice that suddenly echoed through the cold basement sent a shiver down Robbie's spine and he froze.

"My, my... what a pleasant surprise. I didn't think that I'd find another Scott."

The voice moved closer and closer and when Robbie managed to turn his head to the side, he met the handsome face of the bastard who had taken his brother.

"You are related to Montgomery Scott, aren't you? Judging by the appearance I'd say... his little brother?"

Robbie just glared at his counterpart, putting all the hate he felt into it. That man had no right to talk about his brother!

"Ah, I see. So I'm right about it. Now, what are you doing here? So far away from bonnie Scotland..."

Singh was mocking him! It was clear to tell! Robbie muttered some swear words into his gag and clenched his hands to fists.

"I suppose you wanted to search for your brother, huh? Well, I'm happy to be able to tell you, that you found him."

A frown crossed Robbie's face as he watched Singh get up from where he was kneeling next to the massage table and move out of his sight.

His heart started to race and various thoughts rushed through his mind, however, Robbie wasn't prepared for what happened next.

His kidnapper placed something right beneath the table's face hole and when Robbie looked through it, his stomach started to twist and turn.

A weak sob escaped his mouth and his eyes widened in disbelief.

There, right in front of his eyes, was a framed painting. Abstract lines in a dark red seemed to form what had to be a ship. At first, it looked like normal paint, but at a closer look, Robbie could tell the lines for the cuts they were. Cuts that had been carved into skin.

He wanted to throw up, but held it back, knowing that otherwise he might choke on it. Endless tears streamed down his cheeks, dropping onto the glass beneath him.

"Oh please. Don't cry. Your brother was the perfect canvas. This is one of my best pieces."

Singh's happy voice next to his ear disgusted Robbie even more and he moved his head away from the 'painting' to look at his brother's kidnapper... no... killer. The therapist was smiling at him.

That bastard had killed him! He had killed Monty!

Robbie screamed and sobbed into his gag, shaking his head vigorously.

"Now, let's see what we can do with your skin, huh? Right now I don't have space for a new piece of art since buyers are rare at the moment, but I'm sure we'll find something to create."

Slowly, Singh straightened his back and it didn't take long until Robbie felt his shirt being cut open, followed by cool fingers running up and down his bare back. The Scotsman winced at the touch, weeping quietly.

"Not as clean and perfect as your brother's, but it's something I guess."

For a long moment, Singh seemed to muse about what he should do and when he eventually made a determined and satisfied sound, Robbie squeezed his eyes shut in fear.

"Oh! Yes, that's good. You see, I have this wonderful friend. Her name is Kati."

The strong hands slapped the Scotsman's shoulder.

"She loves fantasy and medieval live action role-playing. Even though I see her more as a fairy, she prefers warrior characters. I'm sure she'd be happy about a new leather shield with handmade carvings for her birthday."

Robbie's breathing fastened and he shook his head in panic. His heart started to race as he yelled into his gag over and over again.

"I'm sure I can arrange something with that skin of yours."

A shield! That monster wanted to make a shield out of his skin!

No! Please! No! No!

Singh didn't seem to care. Instead Robbie heard him sit down on a wheel stool and roll over to the other side of the room.

"You should have stayed in Scotland, Mr. Scott. Well... at least you get to spend your last hours with your brother."

Robbie couldn't help but wince when loud classical music started to fill the room.

His eyes stayed focused on the painting as he felt the knife cut through his skin. With every line, his end was getting closer and closer and it hurt like hell, but when Singh eventually started to skin his whole back, Robbie didn't even make a sound.

He just stared at the ship. The ship that strangely enough represented his brother oh-so-well. The ship... Monty...

He only hoped that death had taken his brother quickly. For Monty hadn't deserved to leave the world in such a painful way. No one did.

And once again Robbie regretted that he hadn't told the police about his findings. For now it was too late. He'd end up as a piece of art. And no one could save him.

#bad things happen bingo #prompt: human shield #fandom: star trek aos #fanfiction #robbie scott #khan noonien singh #whump #graphic depictions of violence #blood and injury #major character death #disgusting themes #swearing #kidnapping #skinning #psychopathology #modern au

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rizzoto-whump · 2 years

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"Hey, Whumpee."

Whumpee was silent, and the blood wouldn't stop flowing from their head and nose.

"Get up!" They didn't answer, and Whumpee's breath was no longer in Whumper's fingers.

"Get up, you little shit!" Whumper said, half angry, "Don't pretend you're dead like that time."

A kick hit their ribs, and a bucket of water was thrown in their face, but Whumpee still didn't show any movement.

"Whumpee?!"

#whump #whump prompt #Aftermath of Torture #whump tropes #writing prompt #nosebleed #darkfic #hero #villain #major character death #head injury #dying whumpee #bleeding out #sadistic whumper #whump scene

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jacky-rubou · 7 months

Link

Stan and Ford were born and raised to be Jedi. But what can they do when everything seems to fall apart between them?

Second au fic for the au roulette challenge! Two whole chapters! The specific prompt was Star Wars/ Space Opera, so I went with Star Wars and went insane. Decided to just post it now because of reasons. hope you guys enjoy the angst i cooked up!

#au roulette 2023 #gravity falls #ford pines #stan pines #star wars au #fanfic #au #angst #major character injury #not gonna be able to get to the last prompt #too little time plus idk what to do with fairytale lol #anyway this was really fun

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lingeringmirth · 7 days

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too still

Stranger Things | Lumax, Lucas centric | Rating: T | Words: 100 | Drabble, Angst, major canonical character injury , S4 missing scene.

cw: major character injury (no graphic description)

A/N: This is actually my first lumax and first time writing Lucas' pov.

Also here on AO3.

Lucas holds Max in his arms and he cries. He knows he should get up, should run, call an ambulance, but he can’t move.

Erica finds him there, his fingers to Max’s weak pulse, his vision blurry with his tears.

She runs.

‘I’m sorry… Don’t go. Please, Max.’

Death has brushed by him before, but never like this since they thought Will was dead, and that hadn’t been like this… he hadn’t been in love with him.

Max is too still, maybe too broken to be mended. He can’t lose her.

The sound of sirens has never sounded as welcome.

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday12 #prompt: weak pulse #lumax #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #angst #drabble #cw: major injury (non-graphic description)

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wolfeyedwitch · 2 years

Note

soft words of reassurance for bailey (either canon or pariah prisoner version)

Pariah Prisoner, Part 4

So... I'm gonna just... deliberately misuse a comfort prompt in the name of furthering my plotline. Sorry. I promise I'll have more comfort soon. I have Plans. This also serves as my WIJ Day 6 entry for the prompt "Hold On".

Shoutout to anyone who can tell me the two TV shows I referenced here. Bailey is a nerd.

CW: blood, injury, swearing, implied past torture/abuse, (concussion, broken nose, dislocated shoulder already happened and are mentioned), stabbing

Masterlist

---

“Okay,” Bailey muttered, trying to gather their thoughts. The scattered ideas felt like stained glass, sharp-edged and glittering. They wanted nothing more than to sit down and think of nothing while waiting for the worst of their pain to pass.

But they couldn’t. Their directions, their powers, were the only things that were going to get the heroes out of here.

There was a job that needed doing, so they would do it. It was as simple and difficult as that.

“Escape Plan A failed,” Bailey said, mostly to themself. “So we’re moving on to Plan D.”

“What happened to B and C?” Foxfire asked.

“Not applicable,” Bailey said. They wanted to make a joke of it, but it wasn’t the time. Anyway, they doubted the heroes would get the reference even if they made it.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Icarus said. Bailey warily gazed at him, wondering if he was being metaphorical or literal. “What’s Plan D?”

Metaphorical, then. Bailey let out a little sigh of relief. “Plan D is sneaking our way upstairs and going out through a window.”

There was a long moment of silence as Bailey worked on the door’s lock. Eventually, they turned to look at the heroes, who were giving them looks with varying shades of concern and doubt.

“What?” they asked.

“Could you elaborate on that plan?” Tempest asked.

“Because it seems a little…” Foxfire broke off.

Icarus finished for them. “Iffy.”

Oh. Well, that was fair. “There’s a set of service stairs. The lock for them is like this one, set into the wall, so Slipknot didn’t bother to set up cameras for them since they were the only one who could open it.”

The lock was an utter pain in the ass, honestly. It was barely more than a common turn-lock deadbolt, but the placement of it made it very secure. Slipknot could just reach in and turn the thing; Bailey had to work through a good few inches of wall to get at it.

Finally, they got a hold of the knob for the lock and started twisting. As they worked, they continued explaining. “Security is a lot tighter on the lower floors, since, you know, more likely area for breaking in and out. Which is why we’re not going there. There are enough blind spots on the higher levels that we can get to a window.”

The lock finally turned, and Bailey resisted the urge to pump their fist in triumph. They turned to face the heroes.

“The windows are reinforced,” Tempest said. “Shatterproof.”

Bailey gave a little nod. “Yeah. All of them. I have a plan for that too, though. That’s the part where timing is gonna be tricky, because I’ll have to get something, and it’s somewhere that’s monitored. We’ll have a small window of time to break the window and jump out.”

“Um…” Foxfire said. “Gravity?”

“Flight, wind, telekinesis,” Bailey said, pointing to Icarus, Tempest, and themself in turn. “Between the three of us, we should be fine. We don’t need to stop our fall, just slow it.”

Icarus still looked unconvinced, but Tempest just nodded. “Lead on,” he said.

Bailey opened the door, and the group made their way out. Bailey led them through the blindspots they’d mapped to the service stairs. They pressed themselves close to the wall while Bailey opened the locked door.

“If you can open this too, why didn’t Slipknot put surveillance up?” Icarus asked.

“Couldn’t do this originally,” Bailey said, frowning in concentration. The lock was sticking; it probably needed graphite, not that it was likely to get any.

“They don’t know you can open their special locks?” he pushed.

“No,” Bailey said, trying to keep their tone even. He had made them lose their grip on the fucking lock again. “This was self-taught, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The lock finally turned, and they opened the door to the stairs.

Now they just had to go up, and up, and up. Joy.

“How’d you learn, anyway?” Foxfire asked. Their voice was at least something more pleasant to focus on than the echoing clang of the group’s footsteps on the stairs. “It doesn’t look like it’s easy to do, so why bother?”

“Lots of exposure,” Bailey said curtly. Their head (and back, and nose, and… everything, honestly) hurt too much to keep their tone polite.

“Sneaking around behind your boss’s back, Poppet?” Icarus asked snidely.

Bailey couldn’t help but flinch at the name. They resolved that as soon as they were somewhere safe(r), they would tell the heroes their real name. Even if they sided with Icarus and decided to put Bailey down, Bailey was going to go out under their own name.

They weren’t going to remain as what Slipknot had made them into.

“Something like that,” they huffed.

It was the truth… if breaking out of the room they were locked in counted as sneaking behind Slipknot’s back. When they’d moved in, Bailey had only known about the lock on the inside of their door. They didn’t know about the one Slipknot had set into the wall, the one that could override their settings.

And that wasn’t even counting the times Bailey had frequented the cells for various lessons and punishments.

Finally, they reached the floor Bailey needed.

“Is this… a dorm?” Foxfire asked.

“Bigger rooms than your average college dorm, but close enough,” Bailey said. “This is one of the residential floors. There’s a window in the lounge. I just need to get something first.”

“What about other residents?” Tempest asked.

Bailey shook their head. “Not many of them. I wasn’t kidding about these being bigger than your average college dorm. And they shouldn’t be here anyway; this is training time.”

Which, of course, was when they ran into someone.

Viper opened her door just in time to see the four go past. She stared at them.

They stared back.

Viper looked Bailey up and down critically, gaze lingering on their broken nose and stiffly-held shoulder. She seemed to come to a conclusion, and nodded slightly.

“Hm. Seems that what I thought I heard must have been a remnant from that fever dream I was having,” she said, “because I don’t see anything out here.”

Bailey could have cried. Instead, they managed a small, shaky, “Thank you.”

She gave them a crooked smile, showing off her fangs. “I sure hope that my fever dream ends before I have my meeting with Slipknot in…” She checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes. It would be very awkward to have to explain that to them.”

She dropped the pretense and added, “Go. Get out of here.”

“Thank you,” Bailey added fervently, then led the heroes off at a run.

They got to Bailey’s room, and Bailey frantically started looking for what they needed.

“Come on, come on, I know I didn’t get rid of it, where the fuck did I put it after last time…” Bailey muttered under their breath as they pulled out drawers in their dresser.

“What the fuck was that?” Icarus demanded. “You said there wouldn’t be anyone here!”

“Said there shouldn’t, not wouldn’t,” Bailey corrected. “Forgot that Viper is on bedrest and isn’t at training. And that was our new time limit.”

“Honor among villains?” Foxfire suggested.

Bailey gave a half-hearted smile. “Something like that.”

Viper was one of the villains on the team who was halfway decent. She followed Slipknot’s orders, but she never went beyond the minimum necessary damages in training or on missions. Of all the people they could have run into during this escape attempt, she was probably the best option.

Bailey continued tearing through their room as they looked; it wasn’t as though it mattered if they made a mess, after all. They wouldn’t be coming back.

“What are you looking for?” Tempest asked. “Could we help?”

Bailey shook their head. “No, it’s— ugh, why do I still have that— it’s small, you won’t be able to help. It’s a necklace.”

“How’s that gonna help?” Icarus asked skeptically.

“It’s a diamond,” Bailey said.

Foxfire made a noise of agreement. “Not tougher than crystallized carbon,” they said.

Bailey smiled. They should have guessed Foxfire was a nerd.

“That won’t work,” Icarus said. “The force you’d have to put behind it—”

Bailey cut him off. “I can do it.”

He scoffed.

Bailey turned to glare at him. “This isn’t just your life on the line here; it’s mine, too. I’m not playing around. So unless you have a better idea? You’re gonna have to go with what I’ve got.”

They turned back to searching as Icarus gaped at them. They knew they still had it; they’d checked when they made this backup plan. And even before that, they wouldn’t have gotten rid of it. Slipknot had it made from one of the diamonds they’d stolen in the heist that led to Icarus’s intervention. It was both promise and threat, and Slipknot made sure that they wore it to every fancy occasion.

It wasn’t a collar, but it was a claim of ownership just the same.

Bailey finally found the necklace, and the group made their way to the lounge to make their improvised exit. The heroes cleared the furniture away from the window. Bailey held the diamond necklace in place with their powers, then struck it like a hammer against a chisel.

The reinforced glass spiderwebbed out from the impact.

“Well, well,” came a horribly familiar voice from behind them. “I have to admit, I didn’t quite expect this.”

Bailey turned to see Slipknot flanked by several other villains, including Viper.

They’d run out of time.

The ensuing fight was as vicious as it was chaotic. The villains weren’t holding back, using blows meant to maim or kill. Bailey did their best, but they were already at a disadvantage with their concussion and injured shoulder. Add to that the worry of protecting the heroes, as well? They didn’t really have a chance.

A stray blow sent the broken glass flying from its frame, and Bailey took their chance. “Go, go, go!” they shouted, practically pulling the heroes out the window with them as they jumped. Something cold hit Bailey’s side, but they didn’t have time to think about it. They were falling.

All of Slipknot’s sadistic training about heights paid off. With the help of Icarus and Tempest, Bailey was able to get all four of them to the ground safely.

And then they collapsed to one knee. Why… why weren’t their legs working?

They looked down to their side, where they’d felt the impact of something cold. The handle of a knife sprouted from their skin like a weed.

That’s not supposed to be there, Bailey thought.

Like a weed, they plucked it from where it wasn’t supposed to be.

That was when the pain truly set in. Bailey gasped at the sudden intensity of it, falling to their hands and knees under the unrelenting onslaught.

Suddenly Foxfire was there, hands warm against Bailey’s skin. They pressed against the wound, making the pain worse. Why were they making it worse? Bailey groaned and tried to push them away, but was too weak.

Foxfire was shouting, but Bailey had trouble focusing on the words. The hero’s face softened with something like… concern? What were they concerned about? Had one of the heroes gotten hurt?

“No, no, Poppet, look at me,” Foxfire said. “Look at me, there you go, keep your focus on me. You’re gonna be okay, just hang on. Hang on!”

Bailey smiled weakly. They rasped, “Bailey.”

“What? Don’t worry about anyone else, just keep looking at me. You’re okay; we’re gonna get you to our medic, just hang on, Poppet.”

Bailey shook their head. “Not Poppet. It’s Bailey.”

Their eyelids were so heavy, far too heavy to keep open. They smiled as their eyes slid shut. “My name is Bailey.”

They were going to go out under their own name, after all.

---

I don't kill my characters, don't kill me please! (Exceptions may apply to irredeemable whumpers. Of which I am not one. Again, please don't kill me.)

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus @pickleking8 @appleejuice @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-des-lore @equestrianwritingsstuff, @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly @neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway, @whumpcreations, @wicked-whump @heart4brains, @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one @elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme @towerlesskey @emmanemanemm

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izzydaninja · 1 month

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Summary:

"He stood, alone, in the middle of a battered field. Heavy breaths, escaping him, one after another, and gradually, he could feel the adrenaline slipping away. In its place: heavy, aching limbs sinking to the ground with a painful thump."

Writing Prompt: Unexpected Hit

Short writing practice.

To anyone who's interested in checking it out, or doing their own short story based on the prompt theme.

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic #Shadow the Hedgehog #Shadow #Writing Practice #Short Story #Story/Writing #My Writing #Writing Prompt: Unexpected Hit #Angst and Hurt #Major Character Injury

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ice-cap-k · 6 months

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Empty Sensations

Home stretch. Only two more days left!

Cross-posted on AO3 here: Empty Sensations

________________________________________________

"I think she's waking up. False? False, luv, can you hear me?"

I could hear. The words were fuzzy and distant, but they were there.

“She’s moving. Is that a good sign? Does that mean she’ll be okay?”

“I think so… False, I ehm… I need you to open your eyes for me if you can. Tell me if anything hurts.”

Hurts? No, nothing hurt. It was cold, though. Cold against my back. And hard. This bed wasn’t very comfortable, was it? Not that I remember going to bed…

Through my eyelashes, I could make out the amber glow of redstone lamps overhead. They were so bright it sent spots drifting across my eyes when I tried to open them further. “S’bright.” My own voice surprised me. It sounded raspy. My throat and tongue were dry. The words themselves came out sort of mumbled.

“Sorry. Let me lower the lights.”

Some of the dazzling yellows faded away. The back of my eyelids became darker. It felt better on the eyes. When I peeked out through the eyelashes again, there was still light visible, but it was much less intense. The light of the lamps was cast on a different surface instead of directly in my face. Yellow beams now lit up motes of dust directly overhead.

“Is that better, False?”

“Mmhmm.” It made me want to go back to sleep. I rolled my head over, fully intending to curl up once more, but cold metal pressed against my cheek when I did so. That wasn’t a pillow…

I opened my eyes at the same time I reached up to feel what it was I was leaning on.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Doc?!?”

“Wait! False! Don’t… don’t do that yet. You should take things slowly.”

Oddly enough, when my hand should have come into view to touch the cold surface beneath me, all that came into view was a massive hunk of… copper?

It looked like copper at least. It was a massive mess of pistons, hinge pins, gears, and redstone wires. The redstone dust was packed carefully into see-through rubber casings that left the glowing signal passing through the line visible. Whatever it was had different appendages that moved along actuator joints fully visible through a roughly welded framework.

As it leaned into view, the mechanical copper mess came to rest in front of my head where I had originally been intending to put my hand. I studied it for a moment, just watching the whirring gears and subtle glow of the redstone. It was a little mesmerizing, really. “What is that?”

“It’s the best I could do on short notice.” That’s Doc’s voice, I realize with a start.

I turn away from the copper contraption. Blond hair falls away from my eyes and I finally see two familiar hermits standing nearby. One, of course, is Doc. The creeper hybrid’s eyebrows are furrowed and he’s nervously pulling at the arm of his tattered lab coat. Beside him is Stress. She looks like she’s on the edge of tears. Her fingers are gripping at the ends of her pink sweater, pulling it tighter and tighter around her like it will keep out the cold.

“Thank goodness you’re awake,” she says, gnawing on her bottom lip. “Had all of us worried. The rest of the Hermits were scrambling. Just take it nice and slow, Falsie and everything will be ok. We’re here for you.”

“What do you mean,” I say, utterly confused. “What are you doing-” I was about to ask the two of them what they were doing at my base. In my room. By my bedside. But then I looked around me and realized, ‘This isn’t my room.’ It wasn’t even the same color pallet. It didn’t match anything in my mountain base, or even any of my shops.

Instead, I noticed deepslate. Redstone lamps, aged copper, and Sandstone stuck out as accents in the walls. It looked more like something that would be in Doc’s Perimeter.

“Is this Doc’s place?” I tried sitting up to get a better look at the walls. My elbows pressed back against the hard surface beneath me. The fingertips of one hand trailed against what I now could identify as smooth metal. The skin even squeaked a little as it resisted the motion. I didn’t really feel much of anything with the other. I must have slept on it wrong and made it go numb.

Stress immediately rushed to the side of what I now realized was a metal table. A stainless steel table that I had been lying on for some odd reason. “It is,” she said, placing a supporting hand behind my back to help me finish sitting up. “We brought you here after the accident. You were pretty out of it then. Do you remember what happened?”

Accident? There was an accident? The last thing I could remember was that I had been working on the Blue River Raceway. “The stands were a little shaky,” I said tentatively. That was something I could remember. “Did I fall? Did I accidentally respawn at Doc’s place? Not gonna lie, I don’t remember setting my spawn here.”

Stress gripped my shoulders a little tightly. “You didn’t fall, luv. They collapsed.”

“And you didn’t respawn,” Doc added, stepping back away from the table. “ At least, not at first. Ren found you under the rubble and pulled you out.”

“Then it sounds like I owe Ren a thank you.”

“Mmm.”

That wasn’t much of an answer, but Doc looked pretty shaken as well. I must have been out of it for a while if even he looked so… distant. That was the best word I could come up with that applied to Doc’s expression as he shuffled over to a nearby workbench. He pulled a few small tools I didn’t recognize off of a hook with his robotic arm and tossed them into a shulker box. “He left to go clean up the wreckage. Not safe leaving it like that. He’ll be back soon. In the meantime, we need to talk about your arm.”

“My arm? What do you mean?” I leaned forward, taking pressure off of both of my elbows so I could pull both my hands into my lap. When I did so, though, I was surprised to see the hunk of copper and redstone come swinging into view instead of my left hand. “Wh-what the-?”

The clockwork machine was on my arm. Instead of a wrist and a palm and five fingers, there were coils and wires and pins. It started just below the elbow with a massive metal cuff. The odd appendages that I had seen earlier were hinges and servos shaped vaguely like fingers and a thumb. “What is this!?! What happened to my hand???”

The tears that had been threatening to fall from the corners of Stress’s eyes finally spilled over. “Oh, I’m so sorry, False!” She threw her arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug. I was too stunned and confused to return it. “I tried to argue with him. I really did. But then we tried forcing a respawn with you and that didn’t help-”

“I don’t understand,” I said, cutting her off. I reached out to push her away. To my surprise, both hands reacted like expected. Even the copper one. They both moved forward instinctively, pressing flesh and mechanical fingers against Stress’s shoulders to gently push her away. As soon as the thought crossed my mind to go through the motions, the mechanical hand reacted as easily and quickly as the organic one. The only difference was that, while the copper fingers had reacted like my own hand would have, I couldn’t feel any of it. Not the movement of the pin joints or the brush of Stress’s sweater against the copper plate palm. If I hadn’t seen the hand move on its own, I never would have known it moved at all.

Doc lurched away from the work table with a wide eye as soon as I did so. He held his own metallic hand out, palm facing outward as if trying to sooth a wild animal. It only made me all the more aware of the heavyweight now on the end of my own arm. “Please, False! You must be careful with that arm. It hasn’t been calibrated yet. You could accidentally hurt someone, or yourself.”

“I swear, someone better start telling me what on Earth is going on,” I hissed. I shoved myself back to the side of the table, only now I realize that there is a bloodstain on the floor. It appeared to have dripped down from the tabletop where I had just been sleeping. “Why is my arm like this? What happened? Why am I in the perimeter.”

“We’ll explain everything,” Stress managed to say around barely-contained sobs. “I promise. Right now, even. Though Doc might have to explain some of the technical stuff.”

I wrap my normal hand around the elbow of the one encased in metal. My eyes are flicking back and forth between the two other hermits and the odd metal mass, still not sure what to make of it. “I’m listening.”

Doc nodded immediately. He backed away, looking nervous to take his eyes off of me. Almost like he was afraid I would disappear the moment I turned my back. Or worse. “Stress, can you tell her what Ren told us,” he asked, reaching for the shulker box he had left on the edge of the workbench. “And while she does that, False, how about you hold out your left arm for me to look at? I’ll calibrate it so you don’t accidentally break something.”

“Like what?” I snapped, shaking out my left arm.

“Like accidentally crushing the table, or our bones.”

I was about to scoff at him. Laugh and say something about how that was an exaggeration, but then both Doc and Stress’s eyes went back to the metal table. I followed their gaze, only to realize there were four finger-shaped indents in the overhanging edge where I had pushed myself off the metal surface. Had I just done that?

I held the metal contraption out to look at, not sure whether to be afraid or impressed.

“Ok. Fine.”

Doc approached, pulling a small tool out and placing the filled shulker box on the metal table. Then with the careful fingers of his organic left hand, he guided the copper arm down to rest on the table next to it. “This won’t take long,” he promised.

“I’m not even sure how to explain this…” Stress came over to my other side while Doc worked. She leaned with both elbows against the table. Her shoulder pressed into mine comfortingly. It looked like she had gotten her tears back under control again. They had left streaks along her cheeks that were now starting to dry. The whites of her eyes still appeared agitated and puffy, though.

“Just start with the stands. You said they collapsed?”

She nodded. “Me and a couple of other hermits came running as soon as Ren started messaging everyone. I don’t know why they collapsed. I think Xisuma and Bdubs are still looking around the place for the answer to that question, but yeah. The stands did fall. It was all one big mess of stone and spruce. And then there you were. Ren had managed to pull some of it off of you before we got there. You were hurt. Really really hurt. There was so much blood. Cub happened to be carrying some regen pots. And they were splash potions too. Like, a lot of splash potions. I think he was in the middle of restocking the shop…”

I frowned. Stress got the message.

“Sorry. That’s not important. Now, where was I? Oh right. So we splashed you with everything Cub had. The good news is, it worked! All your bruises and cuts healed up. Probably a broken bone or two. I wasn’t entirely sure how bad the damage was but it really looked like one of your legs was a little crooked. That regen fixed that right up. The bad news is, when we went to clean some of the blood off you, we saw that everything from your left elbow down was gone.”

“Gone,” I said blankly. “Gone? As in, just wasn’t there anymore?”

“Exactly! It was like the skin had just healed over the bone. All jagged and odd looking like that. You didn’t wake either. At this point, we were starting to freak out because we thought something had gone wrong. And then Ren suggested just killing you real quick to force a respawn. I wasn’t really ecstatic about that idea, but you know how sometimes scars heal themselves over after a quick respawn? He figured maybe something like that could happen, and I didn’t have any better ideas. So I left you with him and ran back to your base to check on you after you respawned.

“But when you appeared in your bed, nothing had changed. Your hand was just missing, like it had glitched out or something. I panicked and started messaging everyone in the chat.”

I looked to the place where my left hand should have been, not quite believing what I was hearing. There was no telltale pixelation of a glitch along the seams where my skin met the copper. It didn’t look like a glitch, but there was clearly nothing of me left where the metal had filled in the empty space.

I also saw Doc with what looked like an extremely thin screwdriver adjusting tiny knobs inset beneath the framework. Every so often, the mechanical fingers would twitch. He would press against the joints, testing their give and resistance, before going back to adjust something that was way over my head. As he worked, he reached into the shulker box and switched tools to adjust something different.

“Hold still for one moment,” he says, before pressing his thumb against the very center of the palm. I braced myself, not sure what to expect. The gap between the metal plates separated for him, revealing a set of tightly wound springs. Then he pulled out what looked like a small wrench with a bent head. With it, he loosened one of the bolts holding down the end of a spring. The coils relaxed a little. It sent an odd sensation up my upper arm, kind of like my forearm was relaxing, had it still been there.

“How does that feel?”

“Oddly nice, actually.”

“Good.” He pulled his thumb away, and the metal plates snapped closed.

“Doc here answered my questions first,” Stress continued. “Guess he’s got a bit of experience with this sort of thing.”

The creeper hybrid nodded. “Indeed.” He twisted open the shulker box at his side to throw the wrench in. Then he slapped his hands together to brush off the redstone dust that had clung to his skin. His steel right arm made a soft ting ting ting as the ceramic casing vibrated from the impact.

“Sometimes, if a player seems stable, capable, and healthy when they respawn, the world won’t recognize that there’s been an injury at all. It doesn’t matter if it was by choice, or by accident.” He taps one of the fingers from his left hand against the faceplate holding his mechanical eye in place. “She brought you here. I did a slight operation. A little messy, but I got the job done.”

“So you’re saying my arm is just gone?”

“Yes… ehm… no. Yes and no.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that yes, the way your arm used to be is gone. But you do have a new one.”

“I wouldn’t call this piece of junk an arm,” I say, pulling the copper contraption back into my lap. Doc winced, but I can’t find it in myself to take it back. It was big and bulky. It made noise and looked strange. It felt strange. It couldn’t feel, even if moving it came to me as easily as moving any other part of my body. The fact that it could do so was still unnerving. Nothing about this was natural.

It was a redstone marvel, for sure. No doubt Doc had worked his genius to pull together something that could interface seamlessly with my thoughts and movements. Even now as I looked it over, the tips of the false fingers twitched with anxiety like my flesh and blood fingers did. I didn’t want this.

“I don’t like this,” I say instead. With a sigh, I turn so that I can lift myself up over the edge of the metal table to sit with my legs hanging. The metal fingers scrape unpleasantly against the stainless steel as I do.

“Oh luv…” Stress presses both of her normal hands against the top of the table so she can sit next to me. When I look at her, she’s staring down at her feet. Both boots swing back and forth. “If I could fix it all for you, or take it back even, you know I would.”

“Honestly, it isn’t all that bad.” Doc didn’t pull himself up onto the table alongside us. Instead, he leaned against it on the other side of me. His steel arm came to wrest alongside my copper one. “It just takes a bit of getting used to.” He sounded embarrassed. Both of his mismatched eyes looked up at the ceiling, not daring to meet my gaze. “And I could always make changes to suit your preferences. Goodness knows I … ehm… customized mine a good amount of times. I thought you might like to start with copper for now.”

With the two arms side by side, it dawned on me just how similar they were. Sure, Doc had a steel hand with a full plate casing that hid most of the inner workings from sight. The contraption replacing my hand had mechanics that were fully open and on display, but I could still make out the similarly exposed redstone tubing and welded framework between the gaps in his plating.

I flexed the fingers along my left hand. I didn’t feel the movement, or the cold of the table beneath the copper fingertips, but it did exactly what I intended it to. As if in response, Doc flexed the fingers on his right hand. Was this how Doc had been living all this time? I had never really thought about it. It made me wonder what it was like to see the world through that red eye of his.

When I looked up, he still wasn’t looking at me, but Stress was. She was staring at me, my hand, my expression, all of me, with big watery eyes. “We’ll do whatever we can, Stress. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The words had left my mouth before I even realized I had been thinking about them. I still didn’t like this scenario. Honestly, I wasn’t okay with the situation at all. It was hard not to focus on what I had lost. It had only been, what? Fifteen minutes since I woke up? A half-hour? Not nearly enough time to process what they were saying or what that meant for the rest of my life. “I’ll be okay,” I say, even though I’m not sure I mean it.

Stress hears the crack in my voice, though.“ She wraps her arm around my shoulder and rubs my upper arm comfortingly. I lean into it. There are tears forming in my own eyes as it weighs on me that, yes, my life really is going to be different because of this. Maybe not that much different thanks to Doc’s contraption if I stopped to rationalize it enough, but still different. People would see me differently. I would see myself differently. Things would feel different. Or not feel at all.

My arm was gone, huh…

With the copper hand, I shifted it slightly so it would nudge Doc’s steel wrist. I wasn’t sure if he could feel it since I really couldn’t, but he dragged his gaze away from the ceiling to look at me while I clutched at Stress’s hand with the other.

“So Doc, is this thing waterproof?”

#whumptober 2023 #prompt no 29 #alternate prompt: body modification #hermitcraft #creative writing #non consensual body modification #major injury #limb loss #amputation #false symmetry #stressmonster101 #docm77

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venusimi · 2 years

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The demon brothers are fighting against someone. Lucifer is falling off the cliff but Mammon is faster than time itself so he runs and like, swaps their places. Lucifer is fucking horrified because it's only spikes down there and he knows Mammon is injured, he attempts to fly after him but his wings are also injured, hence why he didn't try to save himself. So, you, being the Mammon lover that you are, jumps after him knowing full well you're just useless there. Then you noticed how his wings are snapped in half with burn marks. You were both gonna die so he holds you close, then everything went black.

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macey-kasey-nope · 7 months

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His hair was soposed to be waaaaaay darker ;-;

Also my camera quality is ass.

Zei gets his ass beat 👍🏽 babys first concussion

#whumptober #blood #major injury #injury #oc #drawing prompt #whumptober 2023 #whumptober2023 #art #drawing #painting #“But now the room is spinning while I'm just trying to fill in all the gaps”#“How many fingers am I holding up?”

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hummingbird-of-light · 19 days

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Round 2: Fifteenth story for @badthingshappenbingo ~

Title: The Truth

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)

Character(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott, Chris Scott, Leah McCoy, Female Alien OC (mentioned)

Relationship(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott & Chris Scott, Robert "Robbie" Scott/Leah McCoy

Rating: M

Words: 775

Prompt: Hidden Scar

Warnings: Mentions of Violence and Slaughter, Mentions of Kidnapping, Major Character Injury, Disgusting Themes, Angst

A/N: Sequel to "Getting To Know Each Other",

"All That She Wants" and "My Dearest Robbie"

(You can also find this story on AO3)

~ The Truth ~

Robert "Robbie" Scott let out a trembling sigh as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His hands held on tightly to the sink and he felt like he was about to throw up.

His stomach was turning and twisting as he thought about the events of the past few days.

His son being taken, the kidnappers trying to blackmail Robbie into committing a horrible crime, Chris being saved by the one person Robbie had hoped to never hear from again.

He closed his eyes and the image of a familiar alien woman appeared in front of them.

Nomira.

She had left him a message, saying that she was still watching him. Even though she had promised to stay away from Robbie and his family, the restaurant owner apparently kept her eyes on the Scotsman who had saved her life some time ago.

Mixed feelings filled Robbie's heart as he thought about everything the woman had done. One the one hand, he was grateful that Nomira had saved Chris. On the other...

He opened his eyes and let them wander down to his bare hip. A shiver ran down the Scotsman's spine as he remembered a cold knife touching the skin, cutting out a piece of flesh.

A little piece of him. It had been everything Nomira had wanted. And he had agreed to the deal to protect his loved ones.

"Dad?"

His son's voice echoed through the hallway that was leading to the bathroom, but it didn't quite reach Robbie's ears.

He was too focused on the scar, remembering all the blood that had streamed out of the cut. His breathing fastened at the horrible memories.

Nomira's restaurant. The revelation what kind of meat she was serving to her customers. The longing look in her eyes as she watched the butcher cut out the piece she wanted to try the most.

"Dad, are ye —"

The door to the bathroom opened and Robbie's head jerked up as he was pulled out of his thoughts.

The horrified eyes of Chris met his own shocked ones and at first both Scotsmen didn't know what to say.

Only slowly did Chris step into the bathroom where his father had obviously just gotten ready to take a shower. His eyes moved from Robbie's face back down to the hip. A... a piece of it... was just... just gone.

"What the —"

"Chris, I... this... it's nothing."

Robbie's words seemed to pull Chris out of his initial shock. His face twisted in anger and disbelief.

"That's not nothing! What the hell happened to ye!"

Robbie slowly shook his head, tears starting to fill his eyes as he bit his lower lip. No... no, no, no. Chris shouldn't have known! He never should have seen it!

"Dad!"

Hands grabbed Robbie by his shoulders and he could only stare at his son's begging eyes. Chris wanted an answer. He wanted to know the truth.

And... he deserved the truth. But Robbie couldn't tell him. He couldn't tell his son about the horrors he had endured without someone at his side to help him.

So he did the only thing he could.

"L-let me g-get dressed quickly and... and then I'll tell ye everything."

When he opened the door to his apartment and stared at his counterpart, Robbie couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?"

Arms wrapped around him in no time and Robbie leaned into the hug his girlfriend was offering him.

"It's... it's Chris," he whispered, barely audible, but Leah heard it.

"Chris? What's —"

Leah stopped as she looked over Robbie's shoulder and saw the young Scotsman standing in the living room's doorway.

He looked better than two days ago when Robbie had brought him to the hospital, however, something was definitely wrong. His face was stern as if something had happened.

"I w-was in the... bathroom. He... he saw what... what Nomi-" Robbie muttered, but his voice broke. Leah's eyes widened as she counted one and one together.

Robbie had told her what had happened. About Romulans having kidnapped Chris and about Nomira having been the one who had saved him. Robbie had insisted on his son moving in with him for some time.

A deep sigh escaped Leah's mouth and she slowly guided Robbie towards where Chris was standing.

"I suppose... it's time for you to know the truth."

They needed to tell him about who his savior was. They needed to tell him what Nomira had done and how Robbie knew her. And then... then they'd need to keep the impulsive young Scotsman from making a mistake. For Nomira Farie was no one to mess with.

#bad things happen bingo #prompt: hidden scar #fandom: star trek aos #fanfiction #robbie scott #chris scott #leah mccoy #robbeah #alien oc #whump #mentions of violence and slaughter #mentions of kidnapping #major character injury #disgusting themes #angst

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