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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

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Drowning Part 7

I felt like writing today, so you guys have two Drowning parts today. Enjoy, but beware that I did not edit this.

Masterlist

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate

Warnings: possessiveness, medical whump, odd medical practices, anesthesia, major descriptions of vomit, striped of clothing (not sexual), restraints, IVs, needles, knives, surgery (intense descriptions)

Hero blinked her eyes open, taking in the scene around her. She wasn't in the chair anymore, she could move her arms and legs and there wasn't the consistent beep of the monitors hooked up to Supervillain's skin.

Her hands must've have recovered some of their strength for she dug them into the object she was laid upon. It sunk down, but rebounded when she released pressure.

A bed.

Her head was also set gingerly upon a soft pillow- caressing to give her optimum comfort.

Light streamed in through a window, landing on her torso. Hero stiffened, noticing a shadow pass through her abdomen where it stopped.

"Look at me."

Hero hesitantly brought her head up to meet Villain's blue eyes. Memories of their encounter streamed through her head, blocking any other thought process.

"There we go now dear," Villain sat on the foot of the bed, tracing some form of shape into the ruffled covers with a smug smile on his tanned face.

"What do you want?" Hero asked, though she halfway knew the answer.

"You, of course, my dear," Villain said with such confidence that it almost sounded arrogant, cocky...

Possessive.

"Well, now you have me," Hero stated, her tongue feeling bitterly dry. "Where's Supervillain?"

"You still care about him? I thought the doctor- oh sorry, your friends- did a pretty good job of taking those feelings away," Villain tutted. "What breakfast? I made a smoothie bowl." Then he added with a twinkle to his gaze, "Your favorite."

"Hmm no thanks," Hero smiled, still glaring at Villain as if that would remove him from her sight. His whole fit body was a vulgar sight.

Villain sighed dramatically. "Can't I do anything right for you?" He asked, voice in a bitter snarl. "Nope," he answered himself. "No because Hero is too righteous to take anything from a villain..."

"Quit with the guilt tripping. It is not working," Hero informed him, rolling her eyes. "I don't want anything because I don't need anything."

"You can't walk."

"Can to," Hero retorted, crossing her arms, relieved that those at least had some strength in them.

"Try it," Villain dared, leaning against the bed with his palms dug deeply into a mattress, a twinkle in his eyes. Hero vaguely noticed the decrease in swelling, the near fading scar on his right temple- a reminder of how long she had been caged up.

Hero swung her legs to the other side, dangling them down before putting all her weight on the shaky muscles. Gripping the sides of the bed, she pushed herself off and...

She fell, only to be caught by strong arms.

"There now. Proved you wrong dearie, now how does breakfast sound?" Villain asked, smiling down at his little captive.

Hero snarled, tucking her chin to her chest, before nodding subtley. Villain grinned even wider and carried her to the kitchen where she was sat down at the table.

"What are they doing to Supervillain when I'm not there?" Hero asked, looking down at her hands.

"Probably healing him up," Villain replied as he dished flax meal and chia seeds on the berry smoothie bowl. "And then do who knows what."

"We should rescue him," Hero said, nearly a whisper. Villain cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?" He asked nonchalantly. Hero nodded and took the cold metal spoon and began to eat the more than delicious breakfast.

"That is, hmm, not happening," Villain scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Why not?" Hero asked, pausing her eating.

Villain didn't answer. He just left and began to wash the dishes.

"Hello?" Hero called, but received no answer in return.

Within the next fews days of movement, Hero built up enough strength in her legs to carry herself across the house without as much as breaking a sweat.

"I want to watch a movie tonight," Villain said once when Hero was helping clean up after dinner.

"What movie?" Hero asked, never giving him an joy-filled statement once in her stay.

"Thor," Villain replied. "The first one."

"Why don't we watch Iron Man? The first one. Or whichever one Tony gets drunk at the party and fights Rhodey."

"Because Stark sucks, Loki is the best."

"Uh, nooo. Loki is the definition of bad acting," Hero rolled her eyes as she set a dirty plate into the sink.

"Stark is the definition of a crappy character," Villain retorted as he handwashed a knife. Hero studied him, watching as the soapy water drenched his long sleeve shirt. His soft blonde hair trickled into his icy blue eyes as his pink lips were pulled tight into a concentrated purse.

"Or maybe we watch the Kissing Booth," Hero murmured and joined Villain to rinse off the plates and utensils to put them in the dishwasher.

Villain smiled, but it wasn't his usual broad, creepy smile that made shivers run down Hero's spine. It was a smile one, a contented embarrassed one. Tied with his blushing cheeks, Hero would've even called it cute.

That was if he never betrayed her, or never kidnapped her.

If he never kept her from rescuing Supervillain in that wretched place.

Yes, Hero noticed that doors that could only be unlocked by Villain's fingerprints. The sealed windows that refused to budge.

And the fact that the one story trailer house was different from Villain's previous home that consisted of three stories with a gym room and a gaming room.

He was moved, or moved himself, specifically to keep Hero locked in.

Not even his charisma could change that foreboding fact.

《~~》

"Welcome Supervillain to the lab."

Supervillain blinked slowly as LED lights brushed past tender eyelids. The rolling floor memorized him slightly as he watched the equally placed lines fall under the gurney's wheels.

The gurney took a turn, causing a nauseating lurch of vertigo to pass through his stomach. He held back the urge to gag and instead burped repeatedly until he tasted the beginnings of vomit.

Tossing his head over to the side, Supervillain opened his mouth a threw up. He wanted to lurch, but the restraints around all points of movement other than his head and neck forbid that. He was left to allow the puke to streaming down his front, landing on his bound hands.

"Look at you!" One of the heroes chastised, slapping Supervillain hard across the face with a backhanded slap. The world around Supervillain whirled and he nearly threw up again if it wasn't for the gag- no, metal bit- shoved into his mouth, hitting his teeth and sending yet another gag reflex through his esophagus. But this time, he was forced to keep the vomit within and threw up inside his own mouth. Groaning and eyes rolling up slightly, Supervillain laid his head back against the thin pillow that protected his head against any form of head injury. Eyes fluttering closed, he tried to draw more sleep in.

Only for a sudden release in pressure to wake him up from his momentary slumber. The bit was removed and his body was held under a faucet for his mouth to be washed out. Someone came behind him and dumped a bunch of listerine into his unsuspecting mouth. Sputtering from the numbing taste of strong original mouthwash, Supervillain allowed his head to dangle- black hair wetted by the flowing hot water.

Next, his soiled clothing was removed- even his pants- and replaced by a faded pair of shorts. His torso was left bare.

The next movement was of him being laid across a metal table, his limbs once again being held in place by the four-point restraint system- padded metal contraptions barricading any form of movement or escape from the inevitable pain that was to come.

"Patient is restrained, begin procedure."

Nurses bustled around, two on each side of him, one by his feet, and one by his head.

"We are going to force the water out of his lungs," another voice, one that was not owned by any of the nurses surrounding him. Out of the corner of Supervillain's eye, he saw the doctor. The doctor, pacing around not even once looking at the stretched out patient before him.

"This will be painful, but we need the patient entirely conscious for this to work," the doctor instructed. "We are going to insert a tube directly into his lungs- on both sides-, piercing them, and using a sort of plunger instrument to force the liquid through his trachea. To ensure he does not choke, Medic and Nurse, once the plungers are released, you ladies need to unrestrain him and roll him over to his side. We go slow and the second all the fluid is expelled, we need to anesthetize the patient to due emergency surgery to stitch the lungs back together. Estimated recovery time is a couple days with the rapid-healing drug we will administer. Any questions? Prep the IV, Nurse2 be ready there."

The hairs on Supervillain's arms stood up and goosebumps picked his skin. The order from the doctor made him struggle against the restraints, pulling aggressively against them.

"Oh please don't do this," he blubbered, tears spilling from his ducts. "Don't do this. I can't do this. Oh please, please, please, please." He started sobbing, terrifed, as a nurse stuck his elbow with a needle.

"Prepare insertion."

Two sharp metal pieces found their home right below Supervillain's rib.

"Ultrasound."

A cool gel was squirted between the two sharp pricks before a rectangular object was placed upon it.

"Ultrasound ready."

"Begin incision."

A buzzing sound, right before a knife cut in his skin. No, not once, that was a lie, but two.

Two sharp, agonizing knives.

Supervillain screamed, wailed pitifully, as his body thrashed around.

"Stop, stop!" He begged, picking his head up only for hands to shove it back down. His fingers stretched out, clenched, anything for the torture to end.

"Left, move yours towards the ribcage a bit so you don't cut the liver."

Supervillain tensed, clouded thoughts coming to the surface. Cut my liver..., he thought before attempting to evade the knives cutting into his body.

"Don't, don't, don't!" he screeched. "Please."

"Prepare to pierce the lung."

Supervillain shoved himself downwards, but it did nothing with the unrelenting cuffs keeping him close to rock still.

The pure agony that he felt when the knife pierced the lung, then the way the knife evolved into a plunger, was indescribable.

Supervillain screamed. Screamed so loud that even the practiced nurses flinched. The doctor though stayed still, watching the procedure with his authoritive gaze.

"Release the patient."

His wrists and ankles were quickly let free by the wave of a card. He tried to curl in on himself to avoid the operation, but professional hands kept him stretched out.

"Start pumping at Level One to begin."

The horrendous feeling of the machine inside of Supervillain changed into a coveted one when the same machine started to pump. A plunger hit the liquid, sending it up and into his trachea.

Supervillain coughed, rolled over to his side. At first, he imagined that the left plunger would quit working as if it was kinked, but found out that it must've been electrically powered.

Mucus, blood, and water shot up through his trachea. Pain forgotten, Supervillain gagged and coughed the abhorrent liquid out until blackness began to crawl at the edges of his vision. It clouded his thoughts, but he body still involuntarily gagged, coughed, and spat all of his lung's content out.

"Stay awake," a rough voice sounded as his body was shook. Supervillain complied and returned to his coughing fit, agony once again returning to his veins and muscles.

Then, as soon as it started, the pressure ceased as soon as it started.

"Administer the anesthesia promptly."

A dial clicked, though Supervillain hardly registered it. Even before the sedative started pumping through his veins, he was losing consciousness.

A mask was placed above his mouth just as the world descended into blackness.

#supervillain whumpee #hero whumpee #villain whumper #villain caretaker #?#medical whump #pneumonia #anesthesia #drugged whumpee #heros and villains #not me making two characters argue over my two favorite characters from the marvel series #lab whump #surgery

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undeadgoathead · 3 years

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Whumptober 2021 - Prompt #3 - Sticks and Stones

The figure gasped for air, then turned around to face Tarragon. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She recognized the long black hair, lush burgundy eyes, and signature gold hoop earrings. “Wait a minute! You’re the Thorn Prince!”

“Aye, it is I, Devilsclaw Datura Moonflower Ramshorn IV, of the Deadly Nightshade Clan. Son of Tribulus and Belladonna.” The freed prince said. “I suppose I should thank you for saving me. Although I did not expect to be rescued by a commoner. What’s a peasant like you doing in my Fortress?”

“That’s an odd way to thank me, but you’re welcome anyway.” Tarragon scoffed. “And I am no commoner. I am Tarragon Draconia Absinthium, of the Artemesia Clan. Sister of Basil, the King of Herbs, and daughter of Mugwort and Wormwood.”

“Ah, yes, I know your family. I have heard about your aunt Larkspur. She is a good friend of our Mystic, Sagebrush.”

“Is that so? Good for them. But tell me, what happened here? Who did this to you?”

“That is none of your concern, commoner. Although I do suppose I am honorbound to return your kindness and bravery. How did you even know to find me here?”

“It’s a long story. And I told you, I am no commoner.” Tarragon shifted uncomfortably. She had stolen the Master Key, a Thorn family heirloom, and found the prince Devilsclaw imprisoned in his own fortress. Meanwhile, her elder brother was settling for crumbs of pittance as Tribulus and Foxtail insurrected his kingdom. And who knows what happened to Larkspur. Tarragon tried to hide her panic, but she knew she was already in over her head.

“Very well, Tarragon of the Artemesia Clan. You’re part of the Meadowspice Kingdom, aren’t you?”

“Was. Past tense. Before your kingdom conquered our land.” Tarragon frowned.

“Either way, I thank you for releasing me from this dreadful holding room. I shall return your favor with some kindness of my own. Come with me to my bedchamber. I will give you anything you want. Gold, jewels, antiques, artifacts. Name it and it’s yours. Then you can be on your way, and we will never speak of this again. Deal?”

“Deal.” Tarragon said, smiling.

“Come then, follow me upstairs to my personal room. I shall give you your reward.”

Tarragon complied and followed the prince. But even as they walked together, her mind raced. Why was the prince locked up? Was he dangerous? Or was it one of the notorious Thorn illusions? It could be a disguise, a spell of deception. And she did not lock the door behind them when they left the strange jail cell, because then Devilsclaw would know that she had the Master Key. But if the door was found open, she would be in trouble anyway. Then again, she had already freed the captive from his prison. An unlocked door was the least of her worries.

She snapped out of her introspection when she saw that they had arrived at Devilsclaw’s room at last. The heavy Mahogany doors opened to reveal a gorgeous bedchamber. Gothic windows were paned with stained glass. The walls were decorated with rich tapestries and oil paintings. Shelves were adorned with books, sheet music, instruments, and trinkets. A featherbed topped with purple satin dominated the floor, strewn with down pillows cased in silk.

“Wow.” Tarragon exclaimed. “This is gorgeous!”

“Isn’t it?” Devilsclaw smirked. “Help yourself. I promised to reward you for freeing me. So take whatever you want from this room, and then we can go our separate ways.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“Indeed. So what would you like? A rare book of antiquity? An archaic human artifact? Money? Gems?”

“I appreciate your offer, but I want something else.”

“I’m sorry?” Devilsclaw frowned.

“What I really want is…”

“Yes?”

“…A kiss.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. You said I could have anything I want from this room. And I want you.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“It’s what you said. Binding verbal contract. You know the Fae code.”

“Damn! You’re a mischievous little creature, aren’t you?”

“How dare you!”

“No, I like it. I like you.” Devilsclaw smirked. “Fine, here’s your kiss, you nasty little sneak.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips. But she grabbed him and kissed him passionately. He yelped in surprise at first, but the kiss kept him quiet. They wrapped their arms around each other and embraced deeply. When they finally broke apart, they were both blushing scarlet.

“Ahem.” Devilsclaw cleared his throat. “My debt is repaid.”

“Not quite.” Tarragon teased.

“Hmm?”

“You repaid me for freeing you. But you never gave me anything to earn my silence. What if I tell the elders?”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

“Mercenary! I knew you’d want treasure after all. Name your price. What will you take as your hush money?”

“I told you, I don’t want your money.”

“Another kiss, then? Don’t be absurd.”

“No, I’ll keep one secret in exchange for another. I want you to tell me the truth about something.”

“And what, pray tell, might that be?”

“I want to know why you were locked up. Who did that to you? And why?” She asked. Devilsclaw went silent, and his eyes were downcast. Impatient, Tarragon pressed him. “Tell me what happened!”

After an exasperated sigh, Devilsclaw began. “Well, you see…”

But before he could finish his thought, he was interrupted as the mohagany doors to his room burst open. Tribulus came stumbling in, and he was furious.

“Devilsclaw! What are you doing here? I thought I had… What’s this? The Meadowspice maiden is here too? Explain yourselves!” He roared.

Tarragon trembled. But Devilsclaw stood protectively in front of her, in defiance of his father, the dreadful Thorn Emperor. The prince shielded her from the horrific wrath of the king.

“I broke free, like I often do.” Devilsclaw stood his ground. “I couldn’t help it. I was enchanted by the moon. Then I found the maiden wandering the halls like a lost child. I pitied her and took her to my room. She seems too feeble minded to be left on her own in the fortress.”

“What of her chaperone? Where is Larkspur?”

“That old crone? She’s a friend of Sagebrush’s. A mad Mystic. She’s probably in a trance somewhere, muttering nonsense to herself like a drunkard.”

“Hmm. Indeed, those peasants are very eccentric. I’ll grant you that.” Tribulus stroked his chin thoughtfully. “But what of my key? It’s missing! Those damned Meadowspices stole it even as I granted them amnesty! You’ll have hell to pay! You hear me, faerie girl?”

Tarragon stammered, terrified. But Devilsclaw stepped in again. “Oh, you mean this old thing?” He pulled the key from his pocket and spun it around his finger. Tarragon balked. How did he get it from her pocket without her even noticing? And what did he think he was doing, flaunting it like that? “I found it laying it around. I was thinking it would make a beautiful pendant to match my fabulous earrings. Don’t you think?”

“You little weed! Where did you find it? I had that on me when I consulted with Foxtail and Basil! And by that time, you were already…”

“Now, now, father. You overindulged on wine again. Your memory is hazy.” Devilsclaw said, softly. “Of course I took the key. I knew I’d need it to break out. So I stole it while your back was turned, and kept it hidden as you locked me up with yours. I am sorry. You can punish me as you see fit. But please, leave Tarragon out of it. And Basil and Larkspur too. Those fools were so gullible and easy to manipulate. It was almost pathetic how easily I tricked them.”

“That is true. Those Meadowspices are rather dull-witted. And you are a devious, conniving little trickster. Very well, I’ll let Tarragon go, along with Basil and Larkspur. But you will stay locked in your room for the rest of the night. Perhaps longer. Tarragon, get out of my sight, before I change my mind.” Tribulus scowled. He was clearly intoxicated, and the glare on his face chilled her to the core.

“Thank you, your majesties. A thousand apologies.” Tarragon bowed meekly, and slunk away as fast as she could. She looked back with a passing glance, and blushed when Devilsclaw winked at her. She pattered down the staircase and through the hall. She found Larkspur, still counting.

“Twelve thousand three hundred forty four… Twelve thousand three hundred forty five… Twelve thousand three hundred forty six…”

“Auntie! Stop counting. The game is over. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Ah, I see. Already? I haven’t even reached one million! You got the Master Key, then?”

“Yes, I did. And I found a hidden room of bewitched clocks, then I found the Pirate Prince abducted and hidden away in a secret room, and when I set him free, he promised me a reward, and I stole a kiss, and…”

“That’s nice, dearie. Now hand over the key.”

“Oh, I can’t. I gave it back. Or, they took it back. It’s hard to explain. But we need to leave now, before we get in any trouble. Where’s Brother Basil?”

“He’s fine. Always is. Always will be.” Larkspur yawned, stretching.

As if on cue, Basil appeared at the bottom of the stairwell. “Oi! Tarragon, Larkspur! I have good news and bad news. But first thing’s first. Let’s go home. I hate this dreary castle.” Basil said gravely.

“Brother! I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“Aye, might have a bit of a hangover tomorrow, but the grog helped numb the pain of tonight.” He sighed. They collected their things and exited the Boulder Fortress. They walked for miles in solemn silence. Finally, Larkspur whispered to Tarragon: “I knew you could do it. I’m glad I had faith in you. I’m so proud of you for fulfilling your destiny, just as my prophecies foretold. Well done, child.”

Tarragon flashed a brief smile, more confused now than ever.

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luxsea · 4 years

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major gris spoilers

ive got a lot of scrambled thoughts and interpretations of this game ive been thinking about since the first time i played and also some new things ive found so here we go

it truly kills me that the music that plays in the secret cutscene is the same reoccurring tune that sometimes plays when you approach the statues. for example in the red area when you approach the first crying statue the same exact music plays only distorted in a way that sounds like a scream

in the very first part of the game, when gris can start running, if you walk back to the left you will find a statue, completely collapsed on the ground. if you approach it gris will also collapse and cry again. ive literally never noticed this before and it broke my heart.

i interpret the statue and woman in the cutscene to be gris’s mother. someone who cared for gris deeply that tragically died, suddenly disappearing from gris’s life and leaving her to learn how to face the world and grow up without her. everything collapses and crumbles in an instant. the journey we take in the game is representative of the stages of grief and the process gris takes to regain her strength and recover. i feel like that theme of the game can be understood without context of the secret cutscene.

the black swarm that shapeshifts and haunts gris could represent guilt and the inability to move on, the loss of her mother haunting and consuming her. pain, trauma, and grief take many forms: the bird will constantly scream at you, berate you and set you back but if you stand strong and approach it, it dissolves into something not nearly as frightening. the eel will chase you mercilessly in the dark but a friend helps light the way and carry you through the toughest part. when you think it’s all over your grief transforms and distorts into an image of yourself, it literally swallows you, screams until the entire frame is blown out and youre drowning in a void. its a slow swim to the surface but when you finally make it above water you can face reality. the first thing gris sees is her mothers grave.

gris has an important memory where her mother plucked a star that had fallen from a meteor shower and gifts it to her. the star dances around gris and its a warm and happy scene. with that sentiment in mind, stars are a functional part of the game. they allow you to form pathways, unlock dress transformations that help you navigate the world and build the final bridge up into the sky at the end. its as if gris’s mother is still with her, guiding her through her pain, giving her the tools and strength to stand, to fly, to swim and finally be able to sing again. in the very end she sings proudly and the watercolor clouds dissipate and the stars return to the sky. vibrant color washes over the world. she has grown into a strong, independent women. she can see clearly now, has accepted what has happened and can move on, walking up into the sky and off the screen.

im not crying youre crying

#olive.txt #gris

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daryls-dixon-antoni · 4 years

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Chapter 11.) Slabtown

I wake up in a plain white room; so much like a hospital, the sound of ticking echoing in my head.

I blink a couple of times, looking around in confusion. My wrist is bandaged up, as though by a doctor and I have an IV drip in my other arm.

I stand up and limp around, when I look down I see that my ankle has been wrapped more professionally as well. I'm definitely in a hospital room, there's a part of me that wonders if everythings just been a dream; like one of those fever dreams.

If I open the door; I'll be back in a world that still makes sense. My husband, sons and daughter will all still be alive. Hell; I bet their on the other side!

I rush over to the door, and try to pull it open to find it ... locked.

It was all real, then.

I start pounding as hard as I can against the door, trying to break it open. That's when I hear what sounds like a police scanner; so I immediately look around my room for any weapons. None. Okay, breathe, uh.... IV! I pull out the IV from my arm, and brace myself for a fight.

When the door clicks unlocked and a woman in a police uniform walks in, her light brown hair tied back into a tight ponytale and a strict 'no nonsense' look on her face, and a balding man with glasses and a beard following right behind her dressed in a doctor's uniform complete with a stethoscope.

I have my hands and feet in the proper boxing positions, but I wait to make my move, watching them closely.

The man has his hands up and addresses me as though I were a wounded animal, "Everything's okay. Okay?"

My eyes move to the Police Lady, instinctively knowing she's the bigger threat. She seems to know she is, and orders, "Put it down," she's gesturing to my IV Needle I still have clasped in one hand. "Drop it right now." I shrug, dropping the needle, but not my fighting stance.

"I'm Dr. Steven Edwards," the doctor dude puts his hands into his pockets as the lady puts her thumbs in her belt. They're trying to get me calm. I relax my stance, letting my hands fall to my sides, but keep my muscles ready for a fight.

"This is Officer Dawn Lerner. How are you feeling?"

"Where am I?" I snap.

"Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta," Dr. Edwards reponds.

"Atlanta? No. No! How the hell'd I get to Atlanta?"

"My officers found you on the side of the road surrounded by rotters."

"Run! Get out!" I blink back the vision of Daryl fighting off all those corpses. I'll never know if he made it. Just like I'll never know if Mason did.

"Your wrist and ankle were both fractured and you sustained a superficial head wound," Dr. Edwards says. "Can you remember your name?"

"My name?"

"Yes, do you know it?" Dawn asks, coldly.

"It's Antionette. Can I go?"

"If we hadn't saved you, you'd be one of them right now. So you owe us."

Dr. Edwards and I walk into a room with beeping monitors and a respirator hooked up to an unconscious man.

"Couple of them out there were on a run about a week ago. They found two boxes of Bisquick and a Merle Haggard tape at a truck stop, and then this gentleman under a bridge. Cardiac arrest and extreme dehydration.

"And I tried to do what I could," he steps forward and after pushing a few buttons, all the machines turn off.

We stab the guy in the head and move the body to a metal gourney.

"Somebody ran out of dolls to dress up."

I close my eyes deeply and then we wheel the dead guy out of the room. Dawn is talking to another police guy with short black hair.

"Hold up," the Dr. says, and he starts speaking with Dawn. I don't pay much attention, just trying to keep my head down so I can get out; find my son, find Daryl, find Sev.

Breaking out seems like one of my best bets, I recognize the type of people these guys are. They keep you in debted to them so you can never leave.

When we start moving again, I ask the Dr. "How many people do you people have?"

"Just enough to keep us going," is his answer. When he realizes I won't be responding he continues, "Some of us started here, some came as patients. Everyone has a job." Some came as patients... meaning they never left.

We toss the man down an elevator shoot.

When I'm retreiving food for the Doctor, a police guy with salt and pepper hair and eyes that bother me for some strange reason says, "You're looking better and better," I stare him down. "We had a lead on some guns, so me and my partner were pretty far out. That's when we saw you, wriggling in the road." I blink, but don't turn away. "You don't remember me, huh?" Silence. "Yeah, one of them rotters was eyeing your thighs when we showed up. But I got there first. Jacked that rotter up. I'm Gorman." I continue to stare. "When someone does you a favor, it's a courtesy to show some appreciation. Unless you want me to write down everything you're taking. Everything costs something, right?" I ignore him and take the tray, and walk away.

As I'm walking down the hall towards the Doctor's room, I hear Dawn barking orders. "We'll find Joan. Until then, you've got laundry duty and I want my uniform."

A boys voice joins in as they both say, "washed separately and pressed." Dawn stops talking, but the boys' voice says, "I know."

"Smart-ass," is Dawn's response.

I walk into the Doctor's room to the sound of real music, and he's sitting with his feet on a desk, flipping throuth a book, he sighs, "I used to feel like I was drowning in research. Now the oceans are dry," he slams the book closed, "and I'm suffocating in boredom. He throws the book across the room.

I stare at him and he points at a painting displayed next to his desk, "That's Junior Kimbrough. Do you like it?"

I glance at it, the imagry is nice. "I guess," I say, shrugging.

I then place his tray on his desk, and he looks at me, "Where's your food?"

"I am not eating anything from here. I can't owe you people anymore than I already do. I need to leave as soon as I can."

"Have you ever tried guinea pig?"

"No, I haven't." I respond.

"I didn't think so." He smiles, and gestures to the place in front of him, "Sit down." I hesitate, looking at him closely. "Dawn doesn't have to know. Come on." He reasures me, so I take a seat and he clears some of his books off his cluttered desk before cutting a peice of the guinea pig and offering me to take a bit off the fork. I grab the fork and try it. It's not half bad.

"Well?"

I shrug, not wanting to speak too much to anyone here. He laughs, "It's good enough for Peru."

He also takes a bite, and I look around his very cluttered room. Honestly, the place is a mess, but it's somehow also homey. The doctor gestures back to the painting, "It's a Caravaggio. I found it on the street outside the High. Like trash." He stands up, "It doesn't have a place anymore. Art isn't about survival. It's about transcendence. Being more than animals. Rising above." I listen to him talk about his art a while longer.

"We got a new one," A new police woman says.

They are pushing in a gourney with a man on top of it. A new male police officer adds, "Found his wallet. His name is Gavin Trevitt."

The woman continues, "Fell from a first floor apartment trying to get away from some."

The man walks past me to whisper in Dawn's ear as Dr. Edwards starts checking the man out, "He's lost a lot of blood and his vitals are dropping. I don't think he's gonna make it."

The male officer addresses Dawn out loud, "We've already given him gas-"

Dawn cuts him off, "I got this. You said you wanted to save people, so save him."

"I don't even know the extent of his injuries," Dr. edwards states, "Look, this one's a loser. You said you didn't want me wasting resources."

"Well, today I want you to try."

Dr. Edwards considers this for a moment before turning to me, "Okay, plug the EKG and the ultrasound into that battery pack, go."

I move and do as he says, and he says, "Good. Good, good, good. Now attach it to the patient."

I do so, and the moniter begins beeping, and as Dr. Edwards starts doing an Ultrasound on the guys chest, the beeping becomes loud and rapid.

"Tension pneumothorax. Punctured lung. Antionette, I need a large hollow needle in that cabinet." He goes to give me a set of keys, but Dawn intercepts them and opens the cabinet, grabbing the hollow needle and handing it to Dr. Edwards who stabs it into the mans chest, clearing his airway, I think? Whatever he's doing, it causes blood to squirt out throuth the needle.

The beeping on the machine slows and Dawn asks, "Is he gonna make it?"

"He fell from a building, Dawn."

"Is he going to make it?"

Dr. Edwards pulls open the mans lower shirt, "You see these bruises? He has internal bleeding, but I need a CAT scan to know how bad. And even if I could determine that, I don't have the tools to save him. I told you, this was a waste of resources."

Dawn turns around and slaps me, breaking open my stitches, and it takes every single ounce of self control not to punch her right back.

I tightly clench my jaw as Dawn says, "Steve, try to grasp the stakes here," she then walks out, slamming the door behind her.

We go to 'my room' to stitch my cheek back up despite my arguments to leave me alone.

When he finishes he says, "Noah left you a new shirt."

"I don't want a new shirt," I mumble, looking at the clean scrub top that matches the one I already have on.

"She likes things neat," Dr. Edwards states, pointing to the blood stain on my shirt.

"Shouldn't have slapped me. There wouldn't be any blood on my shirt if she hadn't."

He sighs, "I'll wait for you outside."

I change shirts, finding a lollipop inside of my new one. I stash it under my pillow before leaving the room to see two police people struggling with a woman who most definitely does not want to be here. She's wearing the same blue scrubs I'm in.

"Dawn needs you, now," the male officer states, so we rush in after them all.

"She's lucky we found her. Whatever you were thinking, it wasn't worth it. Okay, you have two choices. Either we cut off your arm or you do."

"Screw you and your little bitch!-"

"Smart-ass whore," Gorman states, moving towards the woman, but Dawn pushes him back, "Gorman, get out of here!"

Dr. Edwards approaches the woman, only to get kicked by her, Dawn holds her down as Dr. Edwards says, "It's anesthetic. You need it."

"Go to hell," is the woman's response.

"She made her choice," Dawn states. "Do it. Do it."

Dr. Edwards takes something out of his pocket, obviously he is going to use it as a tourniquet.

"No, no, no! I said leave me alone!"

"We're not going to let you die! We are not going to let you turn!"

I start to walk out the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dawn seethes.

"I don't want any part of this."

"Do you want her to die?"

"She wants to die, that's obvious."

"Help us save her."

"Antionette," Dr. Edwards states, "I need you to hold her down. Do it now," He sounds much calmer and kinder.

"Now."

I move forward and help hold down the poor sobbing woman.

"Keep your hands off me! I'm not going back to him!"

"You don't have to," Dawn reassures her.

"You can't control them!"

"I will."

"Antionette, you ready?" The doctor asks me, and I nod, helping hold down the woman who begins to struggle even harder, trying to thrash as she screams. Dr. Edwards saws off her entire lower arm. No remorse, I guess.

I go into the laundry room to get rid of my new set of bloodied uniform per Dawn's request.

"You okay?" A darker skinned boy asks, his hair is cut short and a kind smile is on his face, "I'm Noah. Of the Lollipop Guild."

"Antionette," I greet, shaking his hand. "Thanks for the sucker."

"Figured you could use a pick-me-up after this morning." I hand him my dirty uniform, and he says, "Guess I should have brought the whole jar." He hands me a new uniform saying, "Here, this should fit."

"Do you know why that curly haired woman left?" I ask. "I mean, how long did she really have left before she payed what was due here and got to leave without them dragging her back?"

Noah shakes his head, "I haven't seen it work like that yet."

"What do you mean, how long you been here?"

"I guess about a year. Dad and I were both pretty messed up when they found us. They said that they could only save one. For the longest time, I actually believed them. Now I get it. Dad was bigger, stronger. Would have fought back. Would have been a threat."

I frown, "They let your dad die?"

"And Dawn just looked the other way. See, she's in charge, but just barely. And it's getting worse. It's why I'm out of here when the time is right. I came looking for my uncle. Gotta get back to my mom."

"Where is she at?" I ask, kindly.

"Richmond. Virginia. We had walls. See, they think I'm scrawny. They think I'm weak. But they don't know shit about me. About what I am. About what you are."

"You don't know me. But I need to go find my son, so I understand what you mean."

"You have a son?" I nod. "How old?"

"Just over ten now."

I'm doing some work for Dr. Edwards, currently pouring bleach into a tin bucket, when Dawn walks in behind me.

"Shepherd, you've already pulled a double. I got it from here."

I tense my muscles as she orders away her officer, leaving us alone and without witnesses.

"Yes, ma'am. Thanks."

I hear Dawn approach me and turn to see her holding a tray of food as she says, "I know you didn't have breakfast. Peace treaty?"

"I'll eat when I get out."

Dawn sits on a red container and pats the one next to her. I stay standing and just look at her, "You know, you shouldn't see this as a sentence. I'm giving you food, clothes, protection. When have those things ever been free?"

I look at her, "I know how to hunt for food, I have no problem with messy clothes, and hand me my pocket knife back, and I wouldn't need your protection, either."

"But you did need it." I glare at her, unamused. "Try to look at the good we're doing. Hard as it was, we saved Joan's life. Trevitt's life. We saved your life. I'm keeping all of us going here. That is not a small thing. It's taken a lot to get us here, Antionette. And I believe that what we had before all of this isn't over. And when we're finally rescued, when this nightmare ends, we're gonna need to rebuild."

"You seriously think someone's coming? After all this time, seriously?"

"There's still people like us, Antionette." She snaps, "People trying to keep the world alive, to fix it. Until then, we all have to contribute. To compromise. If we take, we give back. It's only fair. So keep working off what you owe and you'll be out of here in no time. If that's what you want."

"I think I made it clear that's what I'll be doing."

"Well, then you have to eat. Otherwise, you'll get weak. You won't heal, you'll require more treatment, and you won't be able to do your job."

"You could let me go out and hunt. I'll catch and eat my own food."

"We don't leave if it's not a necessity. I know you didn't ask for this. I didn't either." I stare her down, and she gives a hefty sigh, before getting up and walking out.

I was asked to clean the blood from the floor of the now one handed woman's room, I mop the floors whilst quietly singing,

"I'm only human and I bleed when I fall down, I'm only human and I crash and I break down. You're words in my head, knifes in my heart, you build me up then I fall apart, I'm only human..."

"Hmm. That's really nice"

I look at Joann, who is now awake and looking at me, "Do you want me to go get Dr. Edwards?"

"No, please. Not yet."

"I'm sorry I helped them..." I tell her.

"She can control them. But she doesn't because it's easier. Because she's a coward."

"How bad did Gorman hurt you?" I ask, softly.

She shakes her head, "It doesn't matter. I guess it's easy to make a deal with the devil when you're not the one paying the price."

Back in my room I look underneath my pillow to try to find that lollipop Noah had given me.

"Lose something?" Gorman's voice asks from my doorway. He pulls the sucker from his pocket and unwraps it, "This is yours, ain't it?" He puts it in his mouth. "Mmm." He pops it back out of his mouth, "Sour apple. Like the kind Dawn acquired from pediatrics." He steps closer to me, but I hold my ground. "Suppose you could have a taste. See if it rings any bells."

"I don't want it," I say, as calmly as I can.

"Oh, come on, now." He puts the sucker on my lips, "I just want to be sure I'm returning this to its rightful owner." He tries forcing it into my mouth, so I slap him, hard across the face with my casted arm.

He steps back a hand holding his cheek as he looks at me with blood boiling anger behind his devilish eyes.

He takes a threatening step towards me when we both hear Dr. Edwards voice from the door, "Leave her alone."

"The girl should have been mine."

"Nobody's yours, Gorman. Nobody. And if you think you're getting Joan back-"

"Oh, I'm gonna get her back." He turns to face Dr. Edward, and asks, "You think Dawn's gonna stop me?"

"I will."

"You stepping up, Doc?" Gorman takes a step towards Dr. Edwards.

"What happens when you get sick, Gorman? When you get an infection? When you get bit?"

"Hmm. I think there's gonna be somebody. Somebody who ain't you."

Dawn approaches the scene with another police dude, Dawn says, "Gorman." With a warning tone to her voice.

"And maybe somebody in charge who ain't her." He says, putting the sucker back in his mouth as he backs back out of the room, Dawn leaving with him.

I look at Dr. Edwards, "What the hell is his problem?"

"Come on, let me tell you a story."

We go onto the roof, looking out into a broken down Atlanta.

"When everything started, Dawn reported to a guy named Hanson. They had orders to clear the hospital and move everyone to Butler Park. It was close to midnight when we heard the jets, the bombs. The screams. I was on the third floor. Dawn and Hanson's teams were doing a final sweep. And we knew it was bad. Just didn't know how bad till we came up here. The city had fallen. And everyone we evacuated they were just gone. We kept mostly to ourselves at first. Till the food ran out. We started going out on runs, a few of us at a time. We'd see people who needed help. Barely holding on. But we were barely holding on ourselves. Came a time I couldn't look away anymore. I found this kid. Napalm burns on his clothes, his skin. Dawn said we couldn't spare the resources. So we struck a deal. I'd use what I could to heal him and he'd compensate us for those resources through service. Now-"

"You're not at fault for what she's turned this into."

"We lost some people, that's what's at fault. Hanson cracked. He made some calls that got people killed. Dawn took care of things. She took care of him. She saw us past it. Kept us together. Kept us alive."

"How is this living?" I ask, watching him pace.

He chuckles darkly, "We're still breathing. Patients we brought here, they're still breathing. Outside these walls, alone, unprotected, they'd be dead. We'd be dead. We're not the ones who make it. As bad as it gets, it's still better than down there."

"You're wrong. I am one of the one's who will make it. I need to get back to work."

"How about you look in on Mr. Trevitt and call it a day?"

"Alright, I guess."

"He's stable, due for another 75mg of Clozapine. And tomorrow we'll start fresh."

I walk away, and go prepare the Clozapine, crush it to dust, liquify it and then insert it into the man's arm.

"Still at it, huh?" Noah asks, startling me.

"Yeah," I agree, giving a heavy sigh before all the machines start beeping rapidly, and Mr. Trevitt starts seizing, my heart stops, "Fuck!"

Dawn stabs the now dead Mr. Trevitt in the head then rounds on me, "What did you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything," I reply, coldly.

"He was fine until the two of you were alone with him. Something happened. I want you to tell me."

"It was an accident," Noah starts and I look at him, "Antionette left to get some gauze. I was mopping. I must have unplugged the ventilator somehow. It only stopped for a minute."

"That isn-"

Noah cuts me off, "I got it working again."

"Take him to my office," Dawn orders.

Gorman pulls Noah's arm and drags him out of the room.

Dr. Edwards steps forward, "Dawn, it was an accident." Dawn storms out of the room. "It was an accident," Dr. Edwards repeats.

"Noah lied, Mr. Trivett started seizing. It killed him."

"Seizing? Well, you gave him Clonazepam, right?"

"Clonazepam? You didn't say Conazepam. You'd said Clozapine."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

I hear Noah yell, "Please!" from down the hall and go to rush to his side, to tell Dawn the truth; but Dr. Edwards stops me, "Antionette, we need to deal with Mr. Trevitt while he's still warm."

"You deal with Mr. Trevitt, but I have to stop her!" I snap, as I hear Noah continuing to plead, "Please, stop Please!"

"We can't- you can't stop it."

I pull my bedding up on my bed, wondering how in the hell I ended up here? I'd give almost anything to be back out in the world of the dead then to have to deal with this places weird ass politics. This places crooked people.

Dawn comes in, closing my door behind her. "You really think I didn't know?" I stare at her. "Noah's smart. Probably my best worker. But that story he told about the ventilator? Boy's not much of a liar."

"So you, what? Beat him for the hell of it?"

"I didn't want to. I had to. A good man's mistakes almost ended everything for us, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let that happen again. Every sacrifice we make needs to be for the greater good. The second it isn't, the second we lose sight of that, it's all over. The thing is, you're not the greater good. You're not strong enough."

"I'm plenty strong."

"How many people had to risk their lives to save you? In here, you are part of a system. The wards keep my officers happy. The happier my officers are, the harder they work to keep us going. And this hasn't been easy. There have been compromises, but it's working. And after they rescue us, we're gonna help put the world back together. Because we're the ones holding on. That's the good we're doing here. That's the good you're doing here. That's what makes you worth something. But out there you are nothing. Except dead or somebody's burden."

"You're wrong." I say, glaring at her.

"Oh, yeah? Some people just aren't meant for this life, and that's okay."

"I was literally raised for this life. My siblings and I called our childhood home the Zombie Bootcamp. When the world fell to shit, I single handedly kept not only myself alive, but my husband and two boys as well."

"And where are they now?"

I take a step back.

"Like I said, some people aren't meant for this, and as long as they don't take advantage of the ones who are, it's okay." She leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

I find Noah and see his eye already blackened and swollen.

"Oh my god," I whisper.

"It's not as bad as it looks. I'm okay. Watch," he flicks his bruise, "Painkillers. It barely even hurts. Dawn needed Trevitt for something. I know that's what that was about. Screwed-up thing is, she's trapped, too."

"We aren't trapped. I'm getting us out of here."

"Basement's the fastest way out. Any noise and we got rotters."

"Easy fix, we stay quiet."

"I can keep an eye on Dawn. She keeps a spare key to the elevator banks somewhere in her office. Think you can find it?"

"Hell yeah, I can."

I wait and watch for Noah's signal, and as soon as I get it I quickly and quietly make my way to Dawn's office.

I first search her filing cabinet; but only find the wallet to Mr. Trivett, my curiousity get's the best of me, and when I look inside, I see that he was a doctor. Things start falling into place in my head.

I move to the desk to see Joann, dead on the floor. Suicide.

I start rummaging through the desk, break open her bottom drawer and take the key right as Gorman opens the door, "Hey there. I hope I'm not interrupting," he closes the office door behind him.

"Dawn asked me to fetch her key for her," I say, holding it up for him to see.

"Did she, now? See, I was just with Dawn and I don't seem to remember that." He steps in front of me, enclosing me between him and the desk, "It's okay. Maybe she doesn't have to know. Maybe there's another solution. You know? A little win-win for both of us." He sniffs my hair and I try to pull away from him, noticing Joann's hand move. She's becoming reanimated. "So how about it, Annie? We gonna work something out here?" I close my eyes and nod; ready for Joann to get up and eat this son of a bitch. "Good girl. Now, Joan, she's not such a team player. Lucky for me you're not being a fighter." His hand goes up my shirt and I immediately bash his head with the jar of suckers, he falls right onto Joann, who in turn immediately attacks Gorman. Good, one less douchebag to deal with. I grab his gun off him and stuff it into my pants before walking towards Noah.

Dawn stops me by saying my name, "Everything okay?"

I nod then say, "Hey, I think Gorman was trying to speak to you, said he'd be in your office."

"Thank you, Antionette." I nod.

Noah and I start rushing towards the elevators, I tie some bedsheets to the edge and Noah asks, "Ready?"

I nod, beginning to tie him in the sheets. "I'll come down after you, alright?"

"Okay."

I gently lower him down and then toss the rest of the towels and bedsheets over, ready to lover myself down. But one of the dead jump out at me from one of the floors and I fall, my landing cushioned by the stinky unanimated dead people that have been thrown down here.

Noah holds the flashlight and I hold my new gun. When Noah is grabbed by one of the reanimated dead, I start shooting them all, every one of them in the head as I continue to push both Noah and myself towards freedom. Once we're out in the daylight, I take off, the dead blocking off our exit; so I go to the side; a hole on the fence allowing us an escape route. I try to keep my pace slow enough that I can help Noah get out, but that's when I get surrounded by the dead. I keep fighting my way to freedom, when someone jumps on me and pins me to the ground, I struggle until I see that Noah has made it to safety and that its one of the living now currently handcuffing me. I completely relax, letting the man pull me painfully up and then back inside.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Does it matter?" We are in Dawn's office with the two dead bodies. "Why do you let this shit happen?" I ask, gesturing to the dead bodies. "Why did it take her comitting suicide for her to be free from him? You knew it was happening, and you didn't do jack shit to stop it."

"So that we make it."

"Why? So your imaginary rescue team can save you? No one is coming! There isn't any magical helicopters coming to rebuild the new world. This is it!"

She doesn't answer me, just takes the broken picture frame to hit me over my head.

I sit in a chair in Dr. Edwards room as he checks my healing process to my forehead. "You're healing quickly. Should be ready to jump back into it in a couple more days." He stands up and says, "Well, that should about do it."

"You told me the wrong medicine to give Dr. Trevitt. Was it because he was also a doctor?"

"Trevitt was an oncologist at St. Ignatius. I knew him. They would have kicked me out. Maybe Gorman, maybe he would have killed me. I didn't have a choice." I shake my head, disappointed in the man who could have been good.

Dr. Edwards continues, "When they arrested Christ, Peter denied being one of his disciples. He didn't have a choice. They would have crucified him, too."

Later that same day, the new person they bring in is Carol! Daryl's best friend. She's alive; which means others did survive the Prison.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #season 5 #chapter 11

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radishsan · 7 years

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40) "im so exhausted" Chanel

When Lorea breaks, she does it in a million pieces.It’s messy and disgusting and includes a lot of scratching whenever Chanel tries to comfort her. It’s violent sobbing and bitter-black wailing of NOBODY LOVES ME IM NOT PRETTY ENOUGH YOU DON’T LOVE ME WHY DO YOU TWO GET TO BE PERFECT AND HAVE SKILLS WHEN I CAN’T?, and it’sjust

a little hard to handle.

Chanel handles it anyways.

It’s not fair to him and it shouldn’t be his job to pry out knives and prescription pills out of his older sister’s hands when she screams and tells him to go away Chanel just go away, but Chanel makes it his job anyways. Lorea’s words don’t hurt. Her scratches don’t hurt. She’s terrified that they do and she always tries to push him away and Chanel knows she needs private time but how is he supposed to even trust her with that much when she’s reaching for a knife every few minutes?His parents refer to them as tiffs. Maybell and Chanel refer to them as monthly breakdowns, they refer to them as bi-weekly breakdowns, they stop trying to time them or schedule them because it starts getting too hard to count.When Lorea breaks she does it in a million pieces, and the bright-sunny-rambunctious sister Chanel loves so much splits open her own crevices for him to peer in and look at all the dirt and rot and bitterness there amidst the broken manicures and used makeup wipes caked over with glitter.“I’m sorry, Chanel.” Lorea mumbles dully, eying the scratch marks that flush an angry red against his arms while he holds her, rocks her gently back and forth, whispers as many kind things as he can think of in her ear. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with me. I must be exhausting.”Chanel feels his eyes sting and his arms tighten around her and Lorea doesn’t hurt but it hurts knowing she thinks that way about herself. “You’re not,” He insists in her ear. “You’re–you’re not. You’re my sister and I love you and you are very, very important to me, so I don’t mind at all.”But Lorea just gives a dry chuckle and sags in his arms, too tired to even speak at that point.Chanel holds her until she falls asleep.

When Maybell breaks, she does it quietly. Chanel has never seen his parents dare to punish her outright. Instead whenever she toes the line of subtle rebellion and difficult compliance just a little too far for their liking they give her work, and work, and even more work after that. Business deals, paperwork, finances, things an heir should be learning to balance on her shoulders without wanting to collapse.She tries to do so, naturally. Maybell focuses on work and forgets all about the world around her, the soft light in her eyes going hard as ice. Her room becomes a mess, her office becomes a mess, her appearance stays immaculate-pretty-trim. A swan sailing smoothly with legs underneath the water kicking frantic, half broken, bleeding.Chanel tries to keep an eye on her but that’s harder. Maybell knows when to make herself scarce as to never trigger suspicion, Maybell knows that Chanel is terrible with trust and wouldn’t believe her for a second if she said she was fine when she wasn’t. Maybell stays away until she gets her way, and she is very good at getting her way.Even when it means collapsing out of exhaustion and being sent to the hospital trip-after-trip to the voice of her parents saying We told you not to push yourself so hard, even when it means Chanel can see the ice in her eyes melt into shame every time she has to be hooked up to an IV and watch her precious little siblings bring pillows to make the plastic chairs in her hospital room just a little more comfortable to sleep in. “Sorry, Chanel.” Maybell murmurs lowly when he quietly slips back into the room with the coffee that she’s requested, Lorea already fast asleep and loudly snoring in her plastic chair. It’s the dead of night and Maybell has a table over her blankets with official documents scattered on top. She had Chanel sneak that in for her too, along with the coffee. “It must be exhausting, being used by your eldest sister to help her make irresponsible decisions.” It’s not like you have any other choice, Chanel thinks, straight white teeth pressed firmly against his tongue while he hands Maybell her coffee. “It’s fine,” He tells his sister gently, tugging his chair closer to her. “Maybe I could–maybe I could help you.”But Maybell just gives a dry chuckle and sets her world weary eyes on the paperwork in front of her, expression solemn but disheartened at the sight of all the work she has yet to finish. “That’s kind of you, Chanel, but no thanks. You deserve your sleep. It’s hard-earned.” Chanel stays up with her until Maybell allows herself to sleep.

When Chanel breaks, he does itWhen Chanel breaks, heWhen does Chanel break? Over cups of tea? On the rooftop garden, staring at the lines on painted white cement marking every time he’s grown taller over the years? When he’s had his phone confiscated for the umpteenth time and he’s locked in his room with nothing to do but sew, sew, sew? “To be honest,” He admits to Amaryllis dully while they sit and stare at the stars through the skylight of a car Noe left behind when he went to college. “I can’t tell anymore.” She’s smoking a cigarette with the window cranked open, and Chanel is thanking the gods it’s peppermint because he decided to change colognes just so nobody would know who he was hanging out with when he could gather the courage to sneak out at dark. It’s the influence of going to school with Raids and Eponines, but Chanel doesn’t want to think about Merlin when he’s alone with Amaryllis. It makes his chest hurt with longing and then guilt for not being satisfied when he has her right next to him. Amaryllis makes an inquisitive sound at his comment, exhaling lowly until Chanel’s view of the window is caught up in a smoky red haze. “I thought you said you liked to do your breakdowns alone where nobody could bother you.”Chanel leans back in the passenger seat, eyes tracing up constellations somewhere in the world far above him. “I, um–well, I don’t really think I mean it like that. Breaking and breakdowns are different. I–well, for Lorea it’s sort of the same but I shouldn’t really go into that since it’s not really something to talk about with–”Amaryllis takes a particularly long drag. Then she leans over and kisses Chanel before he can really react, holding his chin in place and blowing smoke into his mouth until his head goes dizzy with nicotine. Chanel’s body sags against the seat just a little, muscles unlocking. Amaryllis pulls back just a little bit to look deeply into his eyes, mouth curved into a smile that reads just slightly like a warning. “I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I?” She asks, and Chanel exhales smoke through his nose with the grace of experience. When he shifts he can feel his pajamas sticking against his back with the heat of summer. “You can tell me stuff like that. I want to know about your sisters, Chanel.” It still feels wrong somehow, but Chanel concedes because when somebody says ‘want’ it’s a decision and Chanel can never say no to that. “Well…for her, it’s…a little bit like the same thing. Lorea’s heart is really soft and she’s really kind, so um…she’s always breaking. Maybell is soft too but I think she just…I don’t really think she has the capacity for breakdowns. She just kind of…sags. I’ve….rarely even seen her cry.” Amaryllis hums thoughtfully, and then she gives Chanel a smug look. Her mouth curves up around her cigarette before she lets it go, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. “I saw it once.” She says with a little grin, and Chanel sits up in worried alarm. “I wasn’t supposed to, though, so I can’t tell you about it. Back on topic before you forget we were trying to talk about your feelings, you silly emotional blood clot.” Chanel sags back in his seat. “Right–um–like I was saying, I can’t really…tell. Breakdowns are different–I can just hold those back until I need to, but um, I need a lot of alone time and I don’t really like it when people try to approach me first during them–well–sorry, you basically just said that. Um, I just–sorry. I mean, I think when I was younger I could tell. I have memories of breaking, like when I hit thirteen and started wearing the um, skimpier outfits. I remember when I got sexually harassed for the first time and everyone acted like it was normal and my dad told me to be more of a man about it. I remember–like, I remember being cracked open in places, but I don’t….” “You don’t realize when you are or if you’ve ever even stopped, basically.” Amaryllis interrupts, and Chanel can appreciate the way her tone reads off as knowing. He needs this, being in a car with a girl who just barely knows how to drive and the creeping feeling of smoke prickling at his lungs. Chanel needs this.(Or at least he thinks he does.)“Right,” He confirms softly, twisting sideways in his chair to cup Amaryllis’ face and give her a gentle kiss as a reward. She makes a pleased sound, then pushes the cigarette into Chanel’s lips for him to finish it off. Chanel slides it out of his mouth and balances it between two fingers. He doesn’t really want to smoke it all that much, he’s not a big fan of peppermint, but wordless orders are still orders. “You’re always a lot better at knowing my emotions than I know my emotions, Ama. I think that’s one of the reasons I like you so much.”Amaryllis lights up at this, giving her smuggest grin yet. Chanel doesn’t know if what he’s saying is really all that true but if his meaning gets lost in translation and twisted into something Amaryllis likes better then who is it going to hurt? Him, probably, but who cares about shit like that?The conversation drops off and they kiss for a little, cigarette still dangling loosely between two of Chanel’s long fingers and keeping him grounded to earth when all he really wants to do is pretend kissing a girl that’s in love with him when he’s barely in love with her doesn’t make him feel like a monster. Amaryllis pauses, pulls back to give Chanel a questioning look. “But you know,” She muses. “That must be really exhausting. Not knowing and shit.” Chanel can’t stop the sharp laugh that comes out of his throat, bitter and black edged. “Should I say that?” He asks softly. “That I’m exhausted? Well, I can’t tell that anymore either, so too bad.”

Then he takes a drag of the cigarette until holes burn into his vision and chucks the rest of it out the window.

#radish writes #c: chanel #rp: merlin #m: characters #individual-identicals #radish answers the real questions #chanel five minutes after the ending: (gets out of the car to pick up his litter like a very guilty child)

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