Tonight, like last night, and every night before that, you drink.
The vodka is acid on your tongue, an impromptu anesthesia to save yourself from the weight of what you've done. You cannot sleep without it, save for the cold sleep of near-death that always ends with hospital fluorescents burning into your eyes.
They say you aren't responsible, that what happened wasn't your fault. But they are wrong. No matter how conditioned you were, it was you who did it. You were drugged- but still, it was your hands around his neck. You were a child, but still, it was your gun to their back, your nails digging into her flesh as she struggled against your onslaught. It is your ears that the screams still echo in.
It is exhausting to live in your head. After years of subjugation, you still crave the release from autonomy, because every moment is a thousand micro-decisions you were never allowed to make.
You stand in supermarkets, staring at walls of canned food in every brand and color. You pause at the curb before you board the bus, because you still can't help but double-check yourself before you even go outside. To say the Red Room is still fully in your mind would be a lie, but to deny you crave its scaffolding would be a bigger one.
So you drink. You drink, and you lie on the floor in your bathroom, paralyzed by grief and the fact that the only one getting you off this floor is yourself.
No sister is coming. No team, no Avenger-knights in shining armor, no handler. If you stand up, it will be because you decide to. And tonight, you are not sure you can.
You find it absurd to think that once you craved choice, and now, you regret having to even decide between toothpaste brands. You are free from the monsters who tore you apart and rebuilt you in their image, but not the ones that live inside your own mind. Freedom is not silence. Freedom is hearing your own thoughts for the first time and realizing they sound like them.
One of the final times you saw your sister, she told you a fairy tale about changing. You laughed in her face. She said it like a promise. You heard it like a joke.
There is one unavoidable truth you will never escape: you cannot change. You will always be a monster. Redemption is for people. You adapt. You improvise. You survive. But that is not the same as changing. That is not the same as becoming someone worth saving.
You have never been a person, not in the way that everyone else is. You study them the way a stray studies windows full of warm light, unable to remember what warmth feels like.
You see them walking around, and crave the deep interiority they have innately. You have never felt like them. You have always been the other, the operative, the vrykolakas in a girl's skin.
The world you live in is not made for redemption. Maybe, if Natasha were here, she could show you the way, but she is gone. She is gone, she is gone, and she is never coming back. You are alone, and lost, and even choosing to stand up off this too-cold tile floor feels like too much.
Tonight, you do not have the strength to choose your future, so once more, you choose the only thing that asks nothing of you in return: the bottle.
CW: Graphic gore and vivisection, non-consensual medical torture; explicit surgical violence, murder, referenced sexual assault (including victim-blaming language), misogyny, captivity and restraint, sadistic behavior
In a world of predators and prey, Dr. Athena Stonehenge was the apex predator.
She sipped her drink, giggling at what the man next to her had said. She didn't particularly care what that pig had been babbling on about, some investment he'd made in the Corellian shipyards, the same slums that Athena and Javier had been forged by.
Athena didn't particularly like men; that was no secret. Sure, they could be pretty at times, and could be fun little toys to play with once or twice before twisting their bodies into science, but too many of them were entitled little brats who thought they had a right to her body, to her intellect, just because she was beautiful.
When Athena killed, it wasn't senseless, but it wasn't purposeful, either. One less man in the galaxy was better, after all, and the ones she targeted had already made the cardinal sin of daring to objectify her. She was the lure, hook, and fisherman at once, drawing out the predators, pulling them in, and destroying them.
"So, what do you do for fun?" The man asked, putting his cold, callused hand on her bare thigh. Athena didn't dare flinch, didn't dare show her disgust.
"Oh, you know." She smiled, looking down at her drink, putting her hand on his and subtly pushing it off her leg. "I'm a scientist."
"You, really?" The man laughed. "You seem a little too pretty for that."
"I have five doctorates." Athena replied. "Bioengineering, Chemistry, Medicine, Mechanical Engineering, and Genetics. I assure you, I'm much more than a pretty face."
"Hm." He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, the white streak she'd had since birth. His eyes drifted down to her bust. "I think I know what your best asset is, though."
The man next to her was one of her rare premeditated targets. He was a politician, an older man who'd thought himself immune to consequence and had gained allegations that made even Athena flinch. He deserved what was coming for him.
Athena giggled, flashing her perfect smile at him. "I bet you want to see more, don't you?"
"Of course I do." The politician smirked. "Shall we go back to my place?"
Athena stood up, beckoning him to follow. "Actually, I was thinking of going to mine."
A blaster cocked against his back. He looked behind him. Athena's demeanor changed. Gone was the demure coquette he'd flirted with in the bar- in her place stood a cold-eyed woman with a sadistic half-smirk on her face.
"Walk, if you value your life."
---
She'd taken him back to her lab, holding her blaster to his back. Now, standing in front of the autopsy table, Athena gave her ultimatum.
"Get on the table, now, or I shoot."
The politician pleaded for his life, but obeyed nonetheless. "Please, please, I can give you anything, don't do this!"
Athena ignored the man's pleas for mercy as she strapped him down to the autopsy table, her augmented body easily overpowering his. "How dare you, pleading for mercy, when you attacked that girl? When you dragged her back to your bed? You think you can beg, when you ignored every one of her pleas?"
"I promise, I didn't know! I didn't know she was that young, I didn't know she was drunk, I thought she was into it!"
Athena grabbed a scalpel from the tray, flipping it around in her hand, then drove it into the politician's chest. He screamed, thrashing against the restraints. Athena chuckled wryly under her breath. "You're a shit liar, and you and I both know that's not the only woman you attacked. Did you really think no one would find out? About your secretary, the cleaning lady, the intern?"
As Athena dug her scalpel deeper, he cried out again, grunting words through gritted teeth. "She...didn't..." He screamed again, gasping for breath. "...say no."
"You know what, sweetheart?" Athena stepped away, leaving her scalpel still buried in the man's chest. She grabbed a restraint belt from her shelf. "I've had enough of you."
Athena tied the belt around the politician's mouth, muffling his screams. It was a pity his terror and pain would no longer bless her ears, but it was worth not having to listen to this little bitch talk more.
She started slicing into his flesh, making a Y-shaped incision over his sternum, then dug her gloved fingers under the squelcing, bloody skin, pulling it apart to see the ribs underneath. Grabbing bone in her hands, she ripped his ribs open with her augmented strength, his organs beautiful, bloody, and fully visible to her underneath.
The politician had stopped twitching, stopped screaming. Whether he'd passed out from blood loss or from the pain, she didn't know, but it would make this easier. She grabbed his heavily cirrhotic liver in her hands, squeezed it as hard as she could. Even in his unconscious state, the politician's body jolted from the pain.
Athena smirked. This is only the beginning.
She began to rifle around through his organs, even as his vitals faded. Stomach ulcers, probably from drinking too much, and the beginnings of lung cancer, too. Ironic- if she hadn't got her hands on him, he wouldn't have lasted long regardless.
It wasn't as fun now that he'd stopped responding to stimuli, as his heart started giving out with each pitiful little beat. Play time was over, and it was probably best to put this jackass out of his misery.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Athena joked, an ironic smirk given only to herself, as she dug her scalpel into his pulmonary veins. "But it's like men like you say- did you try closing your ribcage?"
Is this how you felt, Hua Mulan?
When you came home from the war,
Wrapped in your father's armor, crowned a hero
the cheers hollow against the silence you carried inside?
They wrote ballads about your courage,
but none of them mention the nightmares,
the way your hands shook
As you thought of the men you killed to get back alive.
They called you a fucking hero
as though the title erased the years it stole,
as though honor could drown out the explosions ringing in your ears.
Mulan, did you ever wonder why they praised your victory but never asked what it cost you?
Is this how you felt, Joan of Arc?
They dragged you to the stake, a child in a grown man's armor,
And when the smoke finally cleared, the hands of the damned Church that lit the fire
To punish you for saving your homeland
picked through your ashes, searching for something holy
did you know they would canonize you after you were gone?
They named you a saint centuries later,
wrote hymns in your name,
as if the flames had been a coronation
instead of a punishment.
They call you Sacred, but still
You're just that little girl they set ablaze.
Joan, did you ever wish they’d loved you enough to spare you while you were still alive?
Is this how you felt, Mary, Mother of God?
Did you resent the screaming whelp in your arms as he cried,
or were you the perfect paragon that they teach us all about in Sunday school?
Did you stare at the babe on your bosom,
wishing this fate had never come to you?
The angel came down and told you, a child
Like a divine Clearblue
That you would bear him.
There was no choice. There was no Plan B.
You watched as people praised your son,
praised you solely for bearing him,
As they ignored each and every one of your achievements.
They called you Mother of God, a blessed woman,
but you had never made this choice.
You were to smile and nod,
The obedient servant of the Most High,
as you slowly died inside from the pressure of being second best to the child you never even wanted to bear.
To worship without question,
the babe you cleaned the Sacred Shit off of,
never once revealing the truth of your disgustingly sacrilegious feelings.
Mary, who were you, outside of your duty to the god who violated you and the son you never asked for?
I bought America on Temu
Bright colors, brighter promises
Free same-day shipping
Of unalienable rights
And a satisfaction guarantee
The reviews told me
All I thought I'd need to know
When the package arrived
Smaller-minded than expected
I tried to tell myself
That it would stretch.
After all, the reviews were great
And who am I to click "return"
When other people are scammed
Out of this every day?
The purchase weighed on me
As I limped through streets
On American shoes
That do not fit my big dyke feet
They say I just need to get used to it
When they're already putting blisters
On my heels.
How do I tell the world
That I've been scammed
By a fraudulent listing
When they all smell the shit
And say it doesn't stink?
The death, the lies, the bodies
Dead children, dead soldiers, dead Indians,
All buried below
The musty distribution center
they shipped this package from.
CW: graphic violence, gore and body horror, on-page murder, death of major characters, psychological trauma and grief, betrayal by caregiver, revenge-driven violence, self-destructive behavior, funeral/mourning themes, strong language
Word Count: 2k
Arrowverse/DC moot taglist (dm to be added or removed): @rose-of-oz @shrinkthisviolet @vexic929 @tempests-of-hope @randomestfandoms-ocs @ironverseocs
"Mrs. Rivera?" Siv knocked on her late girlfriend's parents' door, a hot dish of homemade chocolate chip cookies in her hands.
Gina's mother, Luisa, opened the door. She looked like she hadn't slept a wink in the week since Gina's murder, and it seemed like she had aged ten years as well. Siv assumed that she probably looked the same way to everyone else.
"I brought cookies." Siv said flatly, lacking the emotional energy to fake a smile.
"Thank you, Sivonne. Come in." Luisa beckoned her inside. Gina's brother, Antonio, was sitting on the couch, playing video games. Siv simultaneously envied and pitied him, since he was far too young to fully understand the consequences of his sister's death.
She put the cookies down on their countertops. "They're from a box. Sorry, it's not much. I can't cook."
"Do you know if they have a suspect yet?" Luisa asked. "Regina deserves that much."
"I don't know." Siv sat down next to Antonio, looking over at him. "Hey, kid. You okay?"
Antonio shrugged, not even acknowledging Siv's presence. Siv frowned, but didn't press the issue.
"He's been like that since we got the news. Hasn't said a word since." Gina's father, Augustin, explained. "Don't take it personally."
Mrs. Rivera came over to sit next to Siv. "Are you okay, Sivonne?"
Siv's face fell to a flat deadpan. "Are you? Are any of us?" She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just... I miss her so much. I don't know what to do, where to go without her. All I know is that if I ever see the man who killed her again, I want to kill him. I don't want justice. I want revenge."
"You saw him?"
Siv nodded. "I don't know how to explain it in a way that you'd believe me. I don't even know if I believe it, myself. It all happened so fast, it's like I both remember it perfectly and I don't remember anything at all."
"I understand." Mrs. Rivera said. "Regina told me about her... gifts. Was it someone like her?"
Siv nodded. "It was. Someone more like me, actually." Siv stood up, and within a blink of an eye, grabbed the tray of cookies from the counter, then zipped back to the couch. "Can we talk somewhere more private? It's not something I'd want to say in front of Antonio."
Mr. Rivera nodded. "Follow me."
Siv followed Mr. and Mrs. Rivera to the kitchen, where Mr. Rivera pulled the door closed. Siv took a deep breath. "It was a man. I couldn't see his face. I don't know if he was intentionally obscuring it or if I was just so scared that I didn't see it, but he was dressed in yellow. He took Gina. I tried to catch him, I tried to stop it, but I couldn't. I'm sorry."
"What happened wasn't your fault, mija." Mrs. Rivera squeezed Siv's shoulder. "You tried to save our daughter."
"But I didn't." Siv snorted. "And now, they're covering it up in the news, telling everyone that she died in the fire... I don't know what to do. I want people to know what happened, so they can care."
"They'll care. People have been helping our family all this week. I don't think I've ever seen this many casseroles in my life." Mr. Rivera laughed, though his laugh had no joy behind it.
"So, this Vigil thing..." I frowned. "I'm sorry if I'm not very... into it, I guess. I'm not really sure what's going on, and I was raised pretty secular, so it doesn't make much sense to me."
"It's okay." Mrs. Rivera replied. "What matters is that you're here, and we really appreciate that."
"Is there anything you guys need help with?" Siv offered. "I'm not Catholic, and I don't understand more than three words of what your relatives are saying, but I'd like to make myself useful."
"Everything is set up." Mr. Rivera said. "Really, the best thing you can do is to just be here."
Siv nodded. "I'm gonna go use the bathroom. I'll be right back."
On her way up to the bathroom, Siv noticed Gina's bedroom door was slightly open. Unable to resist her own curiousity, Siv peeked inside, a wave of grief and nostalgia instantly rolling over her.
The glued-together angel figurine on Gina's nightstand that had been broken when Siv and Gina got into a pillow fight still stood there, watching guard over a girl who was probably nothing but a jar of ashes by now. Gina's makeup was haphazardly thrown around Gina's vanity, the eyeshadow palette with the bold gold glitter that Gina had been wearing when she was slaughtered still sitting there half-open, like Gina had been in a hurry to get out the door and hadn't bothered to put everything away.
The medallion with St. Mary's image on it lay on the corner of the vanity, the chain folded nicely under the charm. Gina hadn't been wearing it the night she'd died, and while Siv was never one to be superstitious, she couldn't help but wonder if it would have saved her.
Siv hesitated for a moment, debating the ethics of what she was about to do, before pocketing it. It was one small item, something Gina's parents would likely not notice was missing. She'd eventually return it and apologize, but it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Siv turned, going over to Gina's bed. She'd always been respectful of Gina's parents, and the fact that Antonio's bedroom was right next door by never getting frisky with her girlfriend in that bed, but it didn't mean that it didn't have memories.
"Siv, you dumbass!" Gina cackled, smacking Siv on the head with a pillow. Siv laughed, grabbing a second pillow, parrying Gina's next strike.
"Back, foul fiend!" Siv declared, in her best impression of a knight from a corny old movie.
"I will never surrender!" Gina objected, again bopping Siv on the head with her pillow. Siv laughed, throwing her pillow at Gina's face, then took her brief moment of disorientation as an opportunity to tackle Gina, pinning her to the mattress and peppering her face with kisses.
"I love you, you idiot." Gina wrapped her arms around Siv, flipping them so she was the one on top. She pressed a kiss to her girlfriend's lips, and Siv couldn't even react with how enthralled she was by the way the sunlight from the window filtered through Gina's curls, making a halo of gold around her head.
Gina had never looked more beautiful, and it was in that moment that Siv knew that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with her.
***
Siv shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The funeral service had been going on for over an hour, and because it was almost entirely in Spanish, she barely understood a word of it, and everything that wasn't in Spanish was still nearly unintelligible, since it was in Latin, and Siv didn't speak Latin either.
She reached for the top button of her dress shirt, pulling it open. It was warm inside the church, or maybe Siv was just anxious. She began fidgeting with the button, unbuttoning and buttoning it repeatedly, not entirely aware that she was doing it.
She wished her dad was there with her. She'd begged him to come, since she was sure she'd need some kind of moral support, but he'd had other things to do. More important things, apparently, than his daughter's girlfriend's funeral. Thankfully, Jay and Cat were there with her, flanking her on either side of the pew. Jay had his arm wrapped around her shoulder, and Cat had her hand resting on Siv's knee.
Cat and the rest of the St. Florian's choir were up next for a performance of Requiem Aeternam, a funeral song Siv had heard Gina perform once, back in Sophomore year, when a senior boy neither of them knew personally died in a car accident. The haunting dirge in Gina's elegant soprano had nearly brought Siv to tears, despite the fact that she had no emotional connection to the boy whose memory Gina sang for.
Now that Gina was gone, it would hurt so much harder.
Cat stood up, squeezing Siv's shoulder as she made her way to the front of the church, followed closely by Amber and a few other teens that Siv didn't recognize of the top of her head.
"Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis." Cat and the rest of the choir sang.
Siv followed along in the booklet she'd been given when she'd entered the church. Rest eternal grant unto them, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon them.
If there was a heaven, that's where she hoped Gina was. Siv didn't want to be alone, but if being alone meant that Gina was somewhere better, somewhere where she'd be safe from men like the Reverse-Flash, who wanted to hurt her. She'd never again experience someone shaming her for her body, or her accent, or the way she loved. She'd never have to worry about people trying to hurt her, emotionally or physically, for loving women. She'd be happy and at peace for eternity, leaving Siv behind to pick up the pieces on her own.
No, she didn't resent Gina for dying, but it still felt so unfair. Gina may have been the one to perish, but Siv felt abandoned nonetheless. She was alone. No one else would ever understand her the way Gina did.
***
"Hey, Cisco." Siv walked into the bunker, trying to distract herself from the fact that she had just watched her girlfriend's remains get buried. "What are you working on?"
"Checking the data from the night we trapped the Reverse-Flash. Something's not adding up."
"Oh." Siv frowned. "Have you tried running an actual test on it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Reactivate the force field. See if a speedster actually could run through it."
"Are you volunteering?" Cisco asked.
"Yeah, I am. Not like I have anything better to do." She shrugged. "Might get my mind off things, too."
Cisco raised an eyebrow. "Alright. I'll start the field back up."
Siv waited as Cisco messed with some random dials and buttons, and suddenly, the force field burst to life, a familiar face inside it.
"What the- how did he get in there that fast?"
"He's not. It's a hologram."
"Oh, I'm not like the Flash at all." The hologram said.
"...some would say I'm the Reverse." Wells finished the quote, walking into the room.
"You... what the fuck?!" Siv snarled, rage and disbelief rolling through her like a storm.
"You're him." The scientist whispered in horror. "The Reverse-Flash."
"You and I have never been truly properly introduced. I am Eobard Thawne." Wells said.
Siv's stomach turned. Was I wrong about everything, this whole time?
"Thawne. Like Eddie." Cisco stated.
"Let's call him a distant relative." Wells smirked.
"What-" Siv whispered, trying to process this information. "-the fuck?"
"The night we trapped the Reverse-Flash. You almost died." Cisco started putting the pieces together. Dad nodded. "There were two of you."
Wells held up a single finger, in a universal gesture for 'one moment'. For a few seconds, he seemed to flicker, as if there were two of him standing there. "It's an afterimage. A speed mirage, if you will."
"Joe was right. You were there that night, fifteen years ago, in Barry's house. You killed Nora Allen."
"It was never my intention to kill Nora." Wells said, circling Cisco like a vulture. "I was there to kill Barry."
Cisco looked on in disbelief. "But you're his friend, you've been teaching him how to-"
"-go faster, I know." Wells interrupted. "A means to an end, and I'll tell you why. Because I have been stuck here, marooned here, in this place for fifteen long years. And the Flash, and the Flash's speed, is the key to my returning to my world. To my time."
"Time travel..." Siv whispered, still in shock. "But that's impossible."
"Onnie, you don't know what's possible." Wells gave Siv a quick glare. "I'm going home, and no one is going to prevent that from happening."
"I can help you." Cisco said desperately.
"You're smart, Cisco. But you're not that smart." Wells sighed, vibrating his hand in the air, and then lowering it. "Do you know how hard it has been to keep all of this from you, especially from you two?"
He approached Cisco, no mercy in his cold blue eyes. "The truth is, I've grown quite fond of you, and in many ways, you have shown me what it's like to have a son." He slammed his fist through Cisco's chest. Siv screamed, watching the light go out of the eyes of the man she had once considered to be like a big brother. "Forgive me, but to me you've been dead for centuries." He threw the dead body on the floor next to him like a bag of trash, something completely inconsequential.
"I can't believe you." Siv shook her head. "Are you going to kill me now, too?"
"That's to be determined." Wells replied.
"On what?" Siv wasn't buying it. "If you're him, that means that you killed Gina."
"Let me explain-"
"No!" Siv turned away, pulling her arms around her chest. "I just got back from her funeral, you know that right? Or do you only think about yourself?"
"I did what I had to do." Wells- or Thawne, actually, tried to explain. Siv narrowed her eyes, clearly having none of it.
"You're a monster." Cold rage welled up in Siv's chest, like a thousand tiny ants pricking at her insides. She felt her hair rise off the back of her neck, the air suddenly filled with static, as if lightning could strike at any moment. "We're not going to let you hurt us again."
We? ...yes, 'we' seemed more fitting now. Siv's feet lifted slightly off the ground, as if she was levitating. Lightning swarmed around her fists, forming balls of crackling red in her control.
"You have broken the last alliance that will ever serve you, Eobard Thawne." Siv's voice echoed, as if two people were speaking at the same time. "Go ahead, try to cry for help. No one will come for you. You sealed your own fate."
Eobard turned to run. Siv could feel the speed in his veins, and she reached for it. It pulled him to a halt, freezing him in place. She watched him twitch in a futile effort to escape, then attempt to phase, before she approached him, pressing on his chin to force him to look her in the eye.
"This is your reckoning." She reached for the rage, the grief, the hatred that screamed against her lungs, and forced them out in a blinding attack. Lightning blazed out from Siv's body, bathing the room in a sickly red glow. It tore into Eobard's body, burning him alive from the inside out.
"Fuck!" Siv shouted as her lightning began to tear her apart, ripping through her flesh as she watched Eobard's body be slowly burnt away. The feeling of euphoria faded, leaving Siv to face her own impending mortality. If she continued, she'd destroy herself in the process.
But who was she kidding if she wasn't certain that this journey would end in her own destruction as well?
Siv focused twice as much energy into Eobard's impending doom, not so much as sparing a glance when the hands she used to direct her own lightning seemed to crumble to pieces. In a blindingly brief flash of light, both Thawnes were destroyed, Siv's brief moment of triumph interrupted by her self-destructive thirst for revenge killing them both in mere moments.
That night, Barry Allen time travelled for the first time and the timeline was reset, and a now-alive Siv was thrust back into the bliss of ignorance, until paradise could shatter once again.
Claire lay in the grass, the blurry sky above her. Her now-useless wings lay limp against the ground, in the same tatters as the jacket they'd ripped through when she transformed into her fairy form. Though she was sure she'd injured them in the fall, her legs just felt numb and tingly, as if she'd sat for too long and they'd fallen asleep
"Claire?"
Vaguely and distantly, Claire heard someone calling her name, but she was too sore to look up, too tired to call back.
"Claire? Claire, where are you?"
Rae. Claire recognized the voice as it got closer, and soon enough, Rae's beautiful face was leaned over her own,
"Oh, Claire." Rae sat next to Claire on the grass, cupping her girlfriend's face in her hands. "You're so pale."
"It's okay." Claire managed half a smile. "I'll be fine, I promise. Fairy wings- they don't feel anything."
"You're bleeding."
"I fell out of the damn sky, what do you expect?" Claire chuckled darkly, her laugh turning to a cough. "Is Audrey...?"
"She's sleeping." Rae replied. "But alive."
"I'm so tired. I could sleep for a hundred years and still not be rested enough."
"You can't sleep now."
"Concussion risk, right?" Claire looked up, her skinned palm finding its place resting in Rae's hand.
Rae nodded. "You did a good thing. You probably saved Audrey's life."
Claire's wings twitched, trying to find flight that would never come to them again. "My dad told me never to bring my wings out in the warm months. Guess he was right. It was like they were made of paper. I got Audrey out of the way, but then, they just... tore."
"You must have fallen, what, twenty feet?" Rae looked up at the tower where the battle had taken place. "You probably shouldn't try to get up yet. There's an ambulance coming, they'll look you over, make sure there's no permanent damage."
"Fairies are made of stronger stuff than humans." Claire moved to prop herself up on her elbows. Rae put her hand on Claire's chest.
"Don't. Please. For me."
"I just can't stop thinking about it." Claire looked up at the stars. "If I wouldn't have intervened, Audrey would've... I don't know. But I can't help but wonder, was it worth it? I'm never going to fly again. What's a fairy without her wings? Is that selfish of me?"
"No. Don't think like that. At least, not now." Rae stroked Claire's mud-streaked hair. "It's okay to have complicated feelings about this."
"How are you so normal about this?"
"Honestly?" Rae cracked a grin. "I'm repressing all my emotions until I get home. Healthy? Probably not. But if I just don't think about it, it's fine, right?"
Claire managed a small smile. "Probably not, but whatever."
Sirens rung out in the distance. Rae stood up. "That's probably the ambulance. I'll go get them."
Claire's eyes widened as reality started to settle in. Her wings were irrevocably broken, and she could barely feel her legs. She'd never fly again, and she wasn't even sure if she'd walk, either. Could she even go home to Pixie Hollow? Would her magic even work anymore?
Audrey was alive. Her best friend and roommate wasn't dead because of her, but still, the cost was impossible to weigh. Was it worth it? Was it worth it to tear apart a fundamental part of herself to save someone who was only nice to her about 50% of the time?
Claire didn't know. She wasn't sure if she'd ever know, and as the paramedics strapped her onto the stretcher, that same question kept revolving in her mind.
random prompt: write a bit of angst/whump/horror in the form of one OC experiencing something you've put a completely unrelated OC through! (so for example, Ameerah being made the avatar for a god like Noura was, or Kayla being forcibly given robotic limbs like Pyrrha)
Let's give Laila's problems to Siv, shall we?
I Know You're Poison (You're Feeding Me Poison)
Siv Thawne & Eobard Thawne
Word Count: 1k
CW: Extremely graphic violence, gore, multiple character deaths (onscreen), addiction and forced drug use, parental abuse and grooming, psychological abuse and trauma, self-loathing and suicidal ideation, murder, brief nudity (non-sexual).
You do not want this.
That's what the little voice in Siv's mind said as her finely-tuned weapon of a body tore through the officers in front of her. They hated cops, sure, but disliking someone didn't mean they wanted them dead.
Her hands clamped around an officer's neck, and it snapped in her grip. In a flash of red lightning, their boot met another officer's chest, sending him flying out the window, screaming as he careened to the ground.
She'd gone through all the other floors already, with nothing but a graze on her shoulder to show for it, leaving no survivors behind- Eobard's orders.
A bullet whizzed by her ear, too close for comfort. They squinted through the haze in their vision as they whipped around. A blonde woman with a detective's badge stood with a gun in her shaking hands. In a blink, Siv dashed across the room, tearing the gun from the woman's hands, then threw it across the room. The woman ran, but Siv was faster, and with a flash of silver from the knife from her belt, the woman lay dead on the ground, bleeding out from her throat.
"Sivonne! Sivonne, listen to me! Don't trust anyone! The Reverse-Flash is-"
"Gina, no!"
They took a deep breath. Inhale, exhale, supress the memory, hide the weakness. CCPD had fallen. Barry Allen had died last night at her hands, and now, Eobard had finally taken his revenge. He got what he wanted, all through his abomination's bloodsoaked hands.
Fuck, I want to kill him. But I can't. I need him.
With the death of Detective Patty Spivot at her own hands, the Central City Police Department headquarters was empty, far too quiet, like a cathedral to death itself. Tears ran down her face as she trudged out of the building, heels dragging on the pavement.
They nearly tripped over one of the bodies on the ground. A middle-aged man with kind eyes, even in the empty stare of death, looked up at her. Joe West- he'd been kind to her once, a long time ago, and she'd ripped his heart out of his chest like it was nothing.
Siv sighed, leaning over to close his eyes. It was the most she could do. Not without ending this, the vicious cycle of dosing, killing, withdrawals, killing, and repeat. Their chest felt empty, like a singularity had opened where their beating heart had once stood. The lights flickered, but she didn't notice.
Inside her head, it was quieter than it should be. The craving was a heavy, hot ache behind their sternum, like someone buried a coal in her chest and told her not to scream. Their thoughts dragged.
Everything felt like it was underwater, like they never were pulled out of that river they fell into the night their life went to hell. Eobard rewired her metabolism into a cycle: slaughter, crash, dose, repeat. She was in the crash, stumbling through the city like a ghost who hadn’t realized she died.
She didn’t bother to run. There was no one left to stop her. No sirens, no cops, no one left to witness the implosion of the monster who'd once been a girl with big dreams and a bigger heart.
By the time she reached the STAR Labs entrance, the city had long since stopped noticing her. Her heels scuffed along the sidewalk, dragging like the chains of her dependency, blood drying into the seams of her shoes. Her hands shook slightly, half from exhaustion, half from the craving that gnawed at the edges of their vision like an animal.
The building loomed ahead, a monument to science she had long since turned into a cage for herself.
Inside, the smell of antiseptic was sharp, almost violently contrasting with the stench of blood clinging to her clothes. Every step echoed, hollow and accusing. She moved past the labs, past the empty chairs and humming machines, ignoring the faint pulse of warning lights, ignoring the memories of people who had once walked these halls with hope.
She entered Eobard's office, not even bothering to knock. He looked up, eyes scanning over her, as if his daughter, his creature walking in dripping with gore was nothing to scoff at.
"You did well." Eobard looked up, smiling. There was no warmth, no love behind his icy gray-blue eyes. "No survivors?"
Siv bit her lip, fighting back the emotions, the guilt, the grief, the fear that threatened to rise up to the surface. "No survivors."
"Good." He pressed the Reverse-Flash ring on his finger to a small wooden box on his desk. The box unlocked, and Eobard pulled out one of the small syringes from inside. "You earned it."
Siv took it, sitting down on the chair across from Eobard as he watched her take off her shirt, exposing the veins in her elbow. His eyes scanned over the bruises in the crease of their elbow- the drug, a speedster-grade variant of heroin, impeded their healing factor, especially around the injection site.
They pulled back the plunger, then shot the drug into their veins, all under Eobard's watchful eye. First, nothing, just the nerves that always came from Eobard watching her. Then, the high hit, a few precious minutes of euphoria before her metabolism burned through it all.
Even as it felt like her body and mind were floating on cloud nine, whatever was left of Siv's soul still burned. She knew she could overpower Eobard, take the ring from his cooling finger, get the drug herself from that little wooden box she metaphorically was trapped inside.
But it was easier this way. Easier to sit in the chair and let him play god. Easier to pretend she didn’t see the leash he’d fastened around her neck. No need to risk getting herself killed over it, or worse, having to face the thing she'd become.
Or, at least, that's what she told herself. Maybe she hated herself enough that she chose to live like this. With Gina gone, there was nothing for her to live for, and with her at the end of Eobard's chemical leash, there was only one thing she knew-
My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison.
