CW: noncon/non necessary amputation (implied but not described in detail)
Rain was trying everything in his power to yank his wrist back from his captor as he was dragging further into the lab. He begged and pleaded but it fell on deaf ears as Berkley just silently brought him down to the lab.
He'd refused to do Berkley’s dirty work. Refused to help him kidnap some poor sap and this was his punishment.
Berkley dragged him kicking and screaming over to the metal table and managed to manhandle him into position. Like magic, the straps closed themselves around his body, pinning him in place.
Rain sobbed, still struggling against his restraints until Berkley, in a fit of impatience, punched him in the face so hard it broke his nose. His head ricocheting off the metal table so hard he was seeing stars and his vision started to go dark.
He barely had time to register the clank of metal before his shirt sleeve was rolled all the way to his shoulder, and a saw blade was placed halfway up his bicep.
Then Berkley started cutting.
Rain choked on his scream as blade tore through flesh, then bone, then flesh again. At last being cauterized and bandaged. Then left abandoned until he passed out.
Random Writer Anon!!When you get this answer one of the questions (or all if you really want!) then pass it on to 5 writer friends! 🥰If you have more than one WIP, pick at random! We want you to talk about your works, and celebrate with you! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜1. What are you most excited to write with this WIP?2. How has this WIP changed since the “daydream/brainstorm” stage?3. Who is your favorite character in this WIP and why?
Thank you!
This is the second of these, so I will answer with my current running/longest WIP Pick Your Poison!
Honestly I'm just so excited to write all the horror that I'm plotting. I can't give too much away, but y'all have only just scratched the surface of how utterly fucked up Berkley and the lab are.
Ngl when I started this, I had a whole other idea planned! It was gonna be Dayzel centered with Rupert as the whumper character. But @emmettnet rigged my polls (/lh) and I frankly couldn't be happier XD But otherwise I pretty much went in with a blank slate.
Look...................... Legally I have to say Berkley bc otherwise he'd kill me (/j). But no, He's such a complex and genuinely fascinating character both to write (or act out in dnd), and observe. I have a lot of fun with him. And as much as I love the other characters (whom y'all haven't even met yet), Berkley will forever own my heart- (only maybe literally)
So @2000-and-whump had an idea in @emmettland's sever of a whumper with chronic pain/chronic illness and a "service dog" whumpee. And it made me think about Berkley and Rain!
Since Berkley canonically has chronic pain that she constantly ignores. And she always is using Rain as a "go-for" in a lot of things. So logically the next step is full on "service dog" Rain.
Rain being trained to go get certain materials at Berkley's command. Rain knowing how to clean and do certain tasks if Berkley is in a state where she can't. (For example, aside from getting food for Berkley, feeding the "animals" and plants Berkley has in the lab.) Also being able to get her medications (she self medicates... Also she canonically uses pot), mobility aids (either a cane or her crutches.), or any of her braces. And able to carry her back to her bed. Also maybe being "trained" to sense when Berkley is about to have a bad flare up/ sense when she overexerts herself. And even sometimes being required to accompany Berkley on any outings during her flare ups.
CWs: Gore, noncon body mod (amputation), probably not accurate medical procedures, description of gore/dissection of an arm (?)
Gore will be under the cut and in italics, skip pats the italicized section if you don't want to read gore.
---
You accepted the rubber bit.
Wordlessly you opened your mouth, allowing Berkley to forcefully shove it in, and bit down. Your vision was blurring now to the point you could look at the would-be corpse and not feel sick. Though you weren’t sure if it was the result of your erratic breaths or the seemingly infinite number of tears that stung your eyes, or more likely- a combination of the two. You watched as the blurry mass slowly hobbled around the room to gather various equipment, only to be brought back and placed neatly on a rolling metal cart beside you. You forced yourself not to look at the tools he’d grabbed.
You saw the glow in his eyes flicker for just a second before he finally turned to you and gave an incoherent gurgle. That was all the warning he gave before he started.
—
He started with a scalpel. Cutting a thin, deep line down the forearm of the arm you’d used to hit him over the railing. Then cutting two shorter lines at the top and bottom of the first. Gloved hands expertly pulled apart flesh. Your flesh. He reached back to the table and found a pair or clamps, allowing him full access to skin, muscle, blood and bone. If you could think anything beyond the pain, you might have felt disturbed by how skilled he seemed.
He cut thin slices out of muscle and tissue, along with delicately shaving scraping pieces of bone off, and placed them in a metal dish on the cart. Through your screaming that felt so distant from your own body, you briefly asked yourself what those could possibly be for…
Once the last sample was placed he put down the scalpel and removed the clamps, closing the flaps of flesh. He then steadily began the process of stitching the intrusion up. You forced yourself to breathe through the pain, even though your head was swimming. That had to be it, right? He’d said he wouldn’t kill you…
It was not in fact “it”...
Once he’d finished with the stitches, done with clinical perfection, your heart leapt as he reached for the strap around your wrist. But rather than undoing it, he made it tighter. Much tighter. So tight it was cutting off what little blood flow there was. Your heart sank again, a fresh wave of terror washing through you as you watched him pick up a saw and hold it over your hand. You wailed into the bit, pleading, begging. You went ignored.
New, sharp pain exploded at the first pass along your wrist. The next dozen were no easier. You screwed your eyes shut and screamed until your voice couldn’t take it anymore. Then the sawing stopped… And all you heard echoing in your ears was the wet, fleshy thud of your hand joining the previous chunks.
Swiftly he got to work in closing and bandaging the gaping wound.
—
You didn’t dare open your eyes until you’d heard him push the cart and all it’s… Contents… Away from sight. Your whole body screamed at you in pain. And any hope of fighting or running were wiped from thought. Not when your tormentor could do what he’d just done. He gestured for you to open your mouth again and you obeyed without hesitation, allowing the bit to be removed.
It was then that the doors swung open. Berkley wasn’t alone in this place…
What do you do?
Lift your head to look who was coming
Don't look; you'd rather not know
close your eyes and let your body crash into "sleep"
You reached out your hand, touching the sleeping man's shoulder, and gently shaking it. You pulled your hand back when his eyelids moved and his hand twitched. You waited a few seconds as nothing else happened and began to reach out to try again. Only for the “sleeping” man the recoil from your touch. His eyes shot open and he scrambled to quickly get out of your reach.
You paused watching him with wide eyes. He seemed scared… Of you? You tilted your head, putting your hand up in a placating gesture. One thing you noticed about the cowering man now was that his eyes were still black, but the irises were a different color. Presumably, they were back to what they were originally, instead of Berkley’s eye color. He stared back at you, watching for any sudden movements.
“Whatever he did to you, I had nothing to do with it.” Eventually his small voice spoke, clearly afraid. His eyes were staring at where your missing hand would be, and his own hand thumbed over his shoulder with his prosthetic.
“Did he do that to you too?” You calmly ask, gesturing to his prosthetic. He nodded. “And he took you too? You aren’t helping him?”
He tensed up, “That’s a… Complicated question. Yes he took me. No I don’t help him willingly. But he has… Leverage.”
“Leverage?” You raised an eyebrow, caution ringing in your mind.
“It’s… Also complicated… But yes. He has ways to make me do things.”
“Like earlier? When you came and got me. Was that-?”
“Possession.” He interrupted. “But that’s only half of the picture.”
“What the fuck do you mean possession? You’re the one that looks like-” you paused, gesturing to his horns and eyes. “Well… Something that can possess people…”
“A demon?” He hesitantly offered.
“Exactly… But that’s-”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I am. And I’m not the only one. If you wanna survive here you’ll get used to it.” His voice seemed more forceful than it had been. Not as scared anymore. At least not of you.
“Is Berkley a demon?” You asked, not quite sure if you would rather one answer or the other.
“No…” He paused and glanced at the door. “He’s an angel… And a powerful rogue one at that.”
“That thing is an angel?!” You shouted, making the man cover his ears.
“He is.” His voice was quiet again, and he shrank away slightly. But he spoke with such finality you didn’t doubt it. What use would he have for lying? And today had already been so crazy it might as well be true.
“What’s your name?” You changed the topic, wanting at least some sense of normalcy. If you were gonna be here for a while you might as well get to know the other people living under this maniac’s thumb.
“Rain. My name is Rain.” He offered, straightening up slightly. You got the sense he hadn’t been asked that question in quite a long time, and he hadn’t been expecting you to ask it. “Yours?”
“You can call me Mx. Doe. Or just Doe. That’s what I told Berkley to call me. I don’t want that crazy knowing my actual name…” You gave a gentle smile at the man.
Berkley lay motionless on the floor, the only signs they weren't actually dead were subtle twitches and the occasional rise and fall of their chest. Though after some time those twitches became more frequent as they were beginning to wake up. Upon such, their breathing became more frequent, and they slowly pushed themself up. They looked around the room and let out a long, drawn out groan. They stood up, assuming they had been “summoned” again. A very unfortunate side-effect of being a creature of the somewhat occult. They looked at the mirror and leveled their gaze, waiting for who was so obviously on the other side to make the first move.
—
Hello there.
“Hello. And to what do I owe the honor?” Berkley placed their hands behind their back, avoiding looking at the mirror now that they had established contact.
I just wanted to ask you a few questions.
They let out another loud groan. “No I cannot see your death, no I cannot see your enemies death, no I cannot-”
Nothing like that, trust me. I want to know a little bit about yourself.
“About myself? What for?” Genuine surprise and curiosity were clear in his voice.
For… Record keeping. Surely a man of science and knowledge like yourself can allow that?
They hummed, turning away but nodding. “I suppose so. But firstly, I must correct whatever records you may have that I am not a man. Very recently I have come to the realization that I am… what you humans refer to as Trans Feminine? Though I’m not strictly a woman either. I’m still figuring it out to be honest. Please refer to me as She or Them.”
That will definitely be noted, thank you. As for my first question, could you tell me your name?
“Indeed. I go by Berkley. Though a very select few have been known to refer to me as Lee. Though I am unsure of how I feel about nicknames such as that.” She nods and begins pacing the room.
Thank you Berkley. Now… What exactly are you? Species-wise of course.
“I am an angel. Though to be more specific I am a Reaper. And a fallen one at that.”
A fallen? What does that mean?
“It means I can never go home. Not that “home” means much to me anymore. Heaven was… Not kind to me. I much prefer the home I have made here among the humans and the like.”
Before you fell, could you tell me a little about your life? And perhaps a little about your new life as well?
“I suppose… Before, I was a scholar. A teacher and mentor to next generations of reapers. Only one truly had immense potential though. Unfortunately she succumbed to the same issue I almost did. Heaven runs on efficiency and she cared far too much. When she died I saw no reason to continue supporting the system, nor what talent-less flop would join my ranks.” She paused. “As for after, I established myself among the humans fully and began studying them. As well as the occasional angel and demon. Currently I am back to my research after an… Unexpected, extended break.”
What do you mean by caring too much? What did you do to avoid it?
“In our line of work you were expected to be efficient. Feelings are not efficient, they are complicated.” They shifted uncomfortably. “As for what I did? I was always good at messing with the physical for efficiency. I carved out as much of my soul as I safely could, and placed it into a mirror to store.”
You mentioned “generations”. How old are you?
“I was the best of the best and my own talents have granted me extreme longevity. Even by angel standards I am ancient. In human years I am close to 350.”
What made you want to research humanity, among others.
“It just… Fascinates me. And though I can’t fully engage in the job I had prior, this allows me to do what I loved. It also allows an outlet of… Care… Not previously open for me.”
Well I suppose I’m glad for you then.
“Thank you, I suppose then.” She smiled slightly. “Is that all?”
For now, we may call upon you again. But for now you are free to go.
—
Once given permission, she nods once to the mirror and vanishes into a burst of light.
It was two figures. The taller one shuffled quickly towards where Berkly was somewhere out of view, a quick gasp of surprise and concern. They spared you a quick glance as they passed. They looked very worried. Though if it was a worry for you or Berkley himself you weren’t sure.
The shorter figure however walked right up to you. They looked at you with a dead eyed and empty expression. Their eyes were the same as Berkley’s, an unnaturally glowing green. Only this person’s eyes had black where the whites should be, making the glow even more prominent. They moved stiffly, but swiftly, as they undid the straps pinning you to the operating table. Steadily they helped you sit up. Not that you wanted too of course… But you were far too tired and far too weak to fight back even the slightest right now. And, though you hated to admit it, they were being gentle… And you were afraid of the loss of that almost kind touch after something so traumatic.
They leaned you against them as they picked you up into a bridal carry, your amputated wrist left on the outside so as to not irritate the wound. Your head was spinning and everything was finally going fuzzy again. You focused on the pain radiating up your arm to keep you awake as they carried you off to somewhere else in the lab. You didn’t know how long you were being carried for when they stopped in front of a heavy looking door, but it felt like a long time with the snail's pace the person moved at. They shifted you and your feet finally touched the ground. They held you upright as they opened the door for you. You thought that maybe now the gentleness would end, as they would toss you in and lock the door behind you. But instead he walked you in and closed the door behind, which felt somehow just as bad.
The room itself was larger than expected, but not “large” by any stretch of the imagination. It had a mattress against one corner, a medium size trunk placed against another, and a mostly empty bookshelf against the far wall. They walked you over to the mattress and helped you sit down. You watched as they silently took a few stiff steps back, before the glow left their eyes, a pained and deeply regretful expression took over their face, and they crumpled to the ground like a ragdoll. Were it not for the subtle motion of their chest rising and falling you’d think they died… Which leaves you alone for now.
