No. 8 - Tumblr Posts

Whumptober Prompt #8 Stab Wound

Heeeeeeeeeeey guys... Ummmmmmm

Here’s the thing.  I started this one last night. It didn’t really come.  It was like pulling teeth.  So I figured I could work on it today.  Aaaaannnnnnnddddd then I went into work- where my new manager made a mistake.  I’m allergic to lavender (which he knows I told him not even last week), and part of his job involves making henna with lavender (we make our henna from scratch that we sell).  Guess who didn’t cap the lavender correctly and let the scent go all over our office?  Yep!  My new manager.  Our old manager knew I was allergic to lavender (again, I let her knows as soon as I found out how we make henna) and I never had a reaction when she was in charge.  The first time he makes it, I told him five days ago!, I have a reaction.  And then still had to work the rest of the shift!  Thankfully I work outside so I could breathe a bit easier once I took some antihistamines.  I’m okay, though.  I’m so sorry, I’ll try to do better for #10.  I will not be posting this to AO3- it’s too short and basically unfinished.   I’m fine, guys. I really am, but I can’t write tonight.  I’m gonna post what little I have and I’m gonna go lay down.

PS I will not be posting a new story tomorrow for those who are looking, I will be reblogging my 7&9 one for number 9.

Line Break

No matter how times Lucifer got hurt around Chloe, the pain always caught him off guard.  The feeling of a bullet piercing his flesh, a garrote digging into his neck, and now a knife stabbed into his back.  He knew a knife when he felt one, he’d never forget the feeling after he asked Maze to cut his wings off, but as it slipped between his ribs, he’d mistaken it for a punch.  So he stumbled, knelt on the ground, and tried to keep his devil face inside.  The detective was here, and he didn’t want her getting caught in the crossfire.  All he had to do was get away from her without catching her attention and everything would be fine.

May dies from a mysterious illness and Peter is quarantined. Little did they know that it would turn out to be an illness that was thought to have been eradicated many years ago with the help of Hank McCoy. Peter get sick, and Tony must call McCoy for help. They could only hope that they would synthesize a cure in time to help Peter.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my plot!

Sleep Deprivation

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on."

The room was bright bright bright.

Darkness had no home. Shadows were nonexistent.

There was only light.

Squares on the ceiling, squares on the floor.

Tubes in his hands, tubes in his head.

So bright bright bright.

Lasers shining in his eyes.

Left alone alone alone.

One man all on his own in the square room with the squares everywhere and the bright bright light.

There was no sleep. Forced to stay awake. Study the effects of sleep deprivation, they said.

There was no food. Injections instead. Study the effects of this drug and that toxin and those antibodies.

Sometimes he ran.

Sometimes he danced jerkily as they tugged his puppet strings.

Sometimes they shot him point blank.

Tubes in his skull siphoning out his brains.

Men in bulky bio hazard suits talking about him softly loudly constantly except when they stared so quiet.

Like the cat.

Staring.

One eye normal, one eye strange.

Strange strange strange.

Staring through him. Staring at his soul.

Considering him. Weighing him. Judging him.

There were scans and there were tests and there was the cat.

There were needles in his skin and hoses hooked to his face and the cat.

There was bright bright bright.

Endless bright.

Horrible bright.

There was a thin man once with thoughts in his head.

He was bigger now, shaped by medication and experimentation.

He knew pain and he knew agony and he knew misery and he knew he was alone.

Save for the cat.

The cat with the hateful stare.

Over and over and over again they drilled him on weaponry.

On fighting skills and hand-to-hand combat and boxing and more.

Over and over and over again they left him muddled on an intoxicating blend of poisons.

There was no sleep.

There was no food.

Alone in the bright.

Tortured and scanned and studied.

Trained and tormented and alone alone alone.

Alone in the bright.

Cat's eye shining into his own.

Alone in the bright with no thoughts in his head.

There was only the pain and the hateful stare and the hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt.

Endless bright, endless suffering.

Teeth clenched against excruciating pain.

Muscles twitching in spasm.

Screams echoing in the chamber where they kept him.

Feeding him vial after vial of unknown liquids.

Untested until him.

Trial run.

Break him break him break him down.

Cat's toy.

All alone, always alone...

In the bright bright bright...