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snowblindrpg2017-07-18 11:27 pm
snowblindmods) wrote in snowblindrpg2017-07-18 11:27 pm
Entry tags:
- !event,
- alphonse elric (fullmetal alchemist),
- america (hetalia),
- billy kaplan (marvel comics),
- castiel (supernatural),
- davesprite (homestuck),
- death the kid (soul eater),
- england (hetalia),
- enoch (el shaddai),
- gregory house (house md),
- hugo vasquez (borderlands),
- jared rhys (original),
- joker (dc),
- karkat vantas (homestuck),
- manuel laurin (world of darkness),
- mycroft holmes (bbc sherlock),
- quark (zero escape),
- rhys (borderlands),
- royce melborn (riyria revelations),
- stephen strange (mcu),
- sylar (heroes),
- the cat (tortall universe),
- vanitas (kingdom hearts)
[log] Noisy Black Part Two - Mingle [closed]
Characters: anyone signed up for the noisy black event
Location: an office building
Date: Night 260, Morning 261, and Day 261
Summary: You give, or are given, medical treatment.
Warnings: body horror, psychological trauma, serious body deformities, please warn for specifics in threads and make sure to note the night/morning/day your thread is taking place
Sinners
Converted
Location: an office building
Date: Night 260, Morning 261, and Day 261
Summary: You give, or are given, medical treatment.
Warnings: body horror, psychological trauma, serious body deformities, please warn for specifics in threads and make sure to note the night/morning/day your thread is taking place
Sinners
Converted
SINNERS
Night 260; cw: broken arms, tongue lacerations, eye horror
There's nothing that's apparently preventing him from talking, but all he does when he's set down is quietly sob. He doesn't even care about dignity at this point. His body is agony. His tongue is pure and unrelenting agony where it's been slit multiple times with a scalpel. The cuts are no longer bleeding, but whatever Kid put in his mouth is just keeping them open and bloodless. It's a fresh wave of pain every time he has to gasp for breath or swallow.]
additional cw: skinning, teeth nastiness, blindfolding, bone shattering, buckets of blood
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night 260, cw: finger loss, mouth gore
When he's deposited in his cell a while later, he doesn't move. Al sets him down, and Royce just lays where he is, shivering. He doesn't open his mouth, and really, he doesn't look too terrible, except for the fact that he's missing all of his fingers. They're cut off at the first knuckle, leaving bloodied stumps behind - he has them pressed into his stomach where he's curled up on his side, as close to the fetal position as he can get. The most visible part of all of this is his legs. They're not even really legs any longer - they're twisted and frail, buzzing with static, fading in and out of existence.
Every once in a while, he slowly and laboriously tries to reach down to pull his legs up closer to him, and every time, his hand, just a bloodied palm, goes through them. He doesn't cry, doesn't make a sound, doesn't do anything but just lay on the floor, eyes closed, body trembling. ]
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Night 260; cw: skinning, some sensory deprivation, face alteration/mutilation
He's covered in stitched together skin that stretches over his face, concealing his features. There are holes that allow him to breathe but that's it. A prophet's symbol is painted on to the flesh where a face should be.
He says nothing.
He doesn't scream.
With the pain radiating through him he's sure he should scream but he refuses to give those bastards upstairs the satisfaction.
England did this.
England had to die.]
CW: Eye horror, nail gore, torture methods
Being brought back, he just wants to shut his eyes against the horrible things that have happened to the others in their cells. But he can't--his eyelids are sewn so he can't close them, some liquid had been applied to his eyes to stop them from drying out. It's too much, he can see too much.
In his cell, he tries to face away from the bars so he doesn't have to look. If anyone sees him though, his fingernails and toenails have been ripped off, and his breathing seems stilted like he's in pain with every breath. His throat and lungs hurt, painful sparks from the static Vanitas had--well--waterboarded--him with had stayed in his lungs.
Still, despite the pain and humiliation, he's still got his wits about him. That is, if he could withstand what was going on with his eyes. It was difficult to endure this barrage of sight...
"Who's still out there? Status...anyone!" He sounds raspy.
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additional cw: skinning, teeth nastiness, blindfolding, bone shattering, buckets of blood
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cw lacerations; loss of limb control; body parts sewn to other body parts; dissociation*
The lines of the stitches aren't the only lines on him. Smooth, precise, deep lacerations divide his body into sections like a diagram in a medical textbook, the eye of the Prophet carved carefully into each one. Another eye is carved into the back of each of his hands over the crisscross of older scars there.
And over and over under his breath he mumbles, "Dormammu, I've come to bargain" like a litany that will bring death and let him begin again -- please, just a moment of freedom from this and he'll begin it again --]
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some short time later
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Night 260/Day 261 - cw: facial mutilation, broken bones
Instead he's laying with his forehead pressed to the bars and trying really hard not to cry, or move, or think. ]
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261
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Night 260; cw: blood, stitches, loss of range of movement
He's unsteady on is feet, but he makes it back to his cell without help and simply stands inside, watching warily as his captors lock him in once more. His expression is defiant (or it would be, if it had any real energy behind it) and his exhaustion is nearly tangible, but he makes no effort to sit down or even lean against anything. ]
cw: brain stuff, limb stuff
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Night 260- CW: Stitches, skin carving/removal
Rhys has told himself that an infinity of times in the past: either it stops, or you die, but either way, it does stop. And it has, when he's dumped back into his cell with his black cloak, slowly seeping blood and making small, shocky noises as he tries to move around in the silence afterward.
At least the matter of his hair is solved. The decision was made for him in surgery, a quick ruthless shaving that leaves his head completely bare. Surgery has to be neat, especially when it involves chipping away bone. When it involves cutting and peeling back the scalp and putting it back on with stitches and staples, gluing two neat bone devil-horns into place with raw, weeping skin tucked back in around them.
All that long, lovely black hair would have just gotten in the way.
By comparison, whatever's thrashing under the cloak like a panicked snake was almost easy, the symbols carved into his palms and heels just thoughtful finishing touches.
But it's only pain. He didn't die from this, so he'll survive. Head spinning with shock, and an ache that cuts soul-deep because his hair is gone, he pushes himself up to a half-laying position, to look around blearily and see if there's anything that can be done.
He can even talk, though his throat feels like it's been scraped raw with steel wool. Was he screaming? He isn't even sure now. But he can talk. He can move. Focus on that. One thing at a time. "Hey. Is anyone else alive?"
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Midday 261
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Night 260, cw: limb loss, eye horror, brain/spinal/nervous system horror
Watching.
Watching them come back, writhe in their cells, a new black eye with the red prophet symbol etched upon it. Rhys' eyelid twitches, his socket burns. Everything burns, every nerve on fire, radiating strongest from his new additions. The wires snaking crudely through his chest, his shoulder, that goddamn eye.
Maybe he should count his blessings. He still has some range of motion, though every movement is accompanied by a whimper. What little can be seen of the arm poking from his cloak is crude in comparison to his old, bright limb, and the fingers jerk awkwardly, as if his control is limited. Something is whirring beneath the fabric. ]
Shut up.
[ Rhys rubs around the eye, unable to bring himself to gouge it out.
The voice. It just won't - ]
Shut UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP!
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additional cw: skinning, teeth nastiness, blindfolding, bone shattering, buckets of blood
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night 260 ; tw: eye/mouth trauma, limb loss
I'm gonna beat the shit out of that guy the second I find him again. The literal goddamn second.
[ The problem with that plan is that he doesn't exactly know the identity of his surgeon. Vasquez got a good look at him, but-- not for long. There's two more coins stitched over his eyes, keeping them shut. While he's having a rough time picking out where everything was, there's enough sound to guide him toward the cell door; he limps toward the bars, leaning heavily against them once his fingers brush against the surface. Something's wrong with one of his legs, although he's not sure what it is. His right arm's got the same dead feeling to it past his shoulder, and when he reaches up to steady himself, there's the clink of metal on metal as somebody else's cybernetic arm moves-- it's Rhys's, now shoddily attached to him instead of the noodle it so rightfully belongs to. ]
[ It hurts, and all it's doing is pissing him off. He wants it gone, and he wants out of here. ]
Any of you know who that was--? First person to give me a name gets all the money in my wallet. All of it. Hell, you can keep it, too!
[ Which would require actually having his wallet in the first place, unfortunately. Right now, the details weren't important. Revenge, however? That's always a priority. ]
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Midday 261
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Night 260; cw: injections, severe burning, organs, bone sawing
[There's the smell of burned flesh (cooked meat, more like), and his one visible arm is heavily bandaged around the wrist. If anyone's listening closely enough, they can hear him muttering to himself—curses, mostly, but every now and then, a very pointed, if hoarse, shut up.]
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Night 260 cw: brain stuff, limb stuff
The look on his face, both before and after he's locked in his cell, is one of confusion. Maybe he's drugged. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that his skull is cut open, brain exposed to the air. Some pieces are removed, replaced with clockwork bits of their own. He can hear it in his head, louder than it ever was in his shop, and it's distracting.
He's just going to stand here for a minute. Don't mind him. ]
CW: Eye horror, nail gore, lung-related distress
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Morning 261; just visiting! potential for psychological torment and also any of the surgery victims
[But if he'll actually give them to you, well, we'll see.]
(OOC: Any American citizen can reply to this and immediately get their tablet back. Other people will have to earn it. If you're not American and you just want America to torment you, just let me know that you don't want them to get their tablet back.)
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Morning 261--CW: Eye horror, nail gore, lung-related distress
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No tablet preference!
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Dealer's choice on the tablets!
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night 260; cw for broken bones, stitches, general ouch
What happened to him is immediately apparent, as he has to be carried in for a lack of general mobility: at first glance, it looks like his wrists and ankles are tied together behind his back, forcing the rest of his body into an awkward arch, but upon closer inspection, it's painfully clear that they were sewn and not bound, though there is a chain for good measure. There is something terribly wrong to the bend of his knees.
He seems near-catatonic--while blessedly, oddly quiet upon entering, his breathing is short and erratic as he's carried into his cell and somewhat uncerimoniously dumped. After a few minutes, though, he starts wailing, occasionally managing a few expletives. He's still Magenta, after all.]
night 260 / day 261; cw: eye horror, blindness, skinning, reattachment of skin elsewhere
[But his eyes, though—those are obvious. Clear lenses have been grafted over them, and behind the lids are sewn shut. He can't see anything. All he has is the sense...]
Sealed building. We're, we're in the sealed building, we have to be. The prophet eyes—they're all—the positions, I know where they are, we have to be in the sealed building.
[Once he's in his cell again he collapses to the floor with a cry of agony, and with hisses and heaving effort, manages to eventually push himself to sit. He's not quite facing the bars, and he knows it even if he can't see, but he doesn't want to move again. It hurts too much, and the feel of stitches on his arms reminds him far too much of the monster he was weeks ago.]
[Come daytime, he's calmer. He's barely slept but for what exhaustion forced him into, fitful snatches caught between worse bouts of pain. He doesn't move much more than he has to, and stays near the back of his cell. The few times he does, it's slow and shuffling on his knees.]
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cw: discussion of animal torture itt
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night 260
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night; additional cw: skinning, teeth nastiness, blindfolding, bone shattering, buckets of blood
cw: mention of past wounds/limb loss
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Day 261, attn: Billy, Rhys, Beckett (but open to anyone)
But it was the knowledge of who was down there that drove him, the observation that there were fewer tablets on the table now, that some of the prisoners below had them, could contact the people out there in the snowy wastes and get some help, possibly that drove him to take a small stack of them and make the trip down there, himself. His double layer of cloaks swish around his feet as he carries the tablets like a stack of the most precious holy texts down the hall. His eyes are reddened and puffy in spite of their serenity. He's been crying.]
(Anyone:)
[If anyone tries to get his attention, before or after speaking with Billy and Rhys, he will respond, moving to their cell with a pleasant, placid smile, as if they aren't mutilated at all.]
Yes? What is it?
(Billy:)
[For reasons he doesn't entirely know, he makes his visits in order of his surgeries, coming to Billy's cell with the same kind smile.]
Hello again, Billy. I know you can't answer me, but I just wanted to ensure the procedure didn't leave you with any infections. Conversion is meant to be difficult, after all, not deadly. [A beat. He owes his little fledgling acolyte-in-training something more.] ...I would have preferred to meet you before this, so I could better provide what you needed. Oh, well. Such is the will of the Prophet.
(Rhys:)
[Enoch comes to Rhys after Billy, possibly stopping elsewhere if someone else calls him, but almost certainly finding his way to him, a friendly knock on the side of his cell door.]
Hello, Rhys. Ah...black suits you, and you wear our Prophet's mark well. How are you feeling today?
(Beckett:)
[Regardless of anything else, Enoch comes to Beckett last. If he tried to get his attention before he was done speaking with both Rhys and Billy, or while he was en route to someone else's cell, he would have given him a gently chiding, "In a moment, dear Beckett, I promise I will visit you soon."
When he does come to see him, it's with the brightest smile of all, a spark in his reddened eyes. He sinks to sit on the floor outside his cell, posture relaxed and casual, outside leg bent and a hand reaching up to wrap around a bar. This has the effect of shifting both cloaks aside on that side to expose skin, a route open to his beating heart and a portion of the base of his throat that shows trust in the vampire - or it might have if he wasn't on the other side of a barred door.
He leans his head against the bars, framed by his arm.]
Hello there, Beckett. I'm delighted to learn you're with us in this group. But of course you are. You were willing to make the attempt at conversion before you even knew what it was. Alas, it was I who faltered then, perhaps that's why the Prophet gave you to someone else.
Regardless, I think that initiative deserves reward. [He slips the tablet between the bars, and gives it a push towards Beckett with his finger if he is unable to approach.] For you, and your ambition.
(If Beckett is unresponsive or in frenzy:) [Enoch cants his head, leans closer against the door.] Beckett? Oh, Beckett, come to your senses! I'm here to speak with you. Please, spare some of your attention for me?
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cw skinning, teeth nastiness, blindfolding, broken bones, blood and blood drinking
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Day 261, Visiting! CW for any description of past surgeries
Everything is fine. Everything is as it should be.]
Hi...I know you can't be feeling so well right now, but don't you think you'd feel a bit better if you could talk to your friends?
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cw: tongue mutilation, finger loss
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Afternoon 261, a visiting converted
Um, how's everyone feeling? Better, right?
[Because that's why they did what they did, to make them all better.]
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cw body parts sewn to other body parts
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morning 261; visiting!
He clears his throat and squares his shoulders to speak. He'd look like a stuffy schoolteacher if not for the creepy black cloak.] I'm sure that despite our best efforts, some of you still have doubt in your hearts regarding our cause. I'd like to do what I can to alleviate your concerns. If anyone has any questions, I'm here to answer them.
If you show sufficient initiative, perhaps you'll even be rewarded. [He holds up one of the tablets in indication.]
[ ooc| relevant content warnings for victims of the surgeries apply! let me know when you tag in whether you'd like your character to get their tablet back or if they just want to talk/be tormented. ]
just talked to/tormented
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just talking!
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Tormented/no tablet pls CW: Eye horror, nail gore, lung trauma
mycroft no 8')
T^T
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just talking/tomented
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already got his tablet from America
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talked to/tormented. tablet up to you!
poor karkat...
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Midday 261
cw: eye trauma
Afternoon 261
Who is that? Who are you?
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Day 261, cw skinning, teeth nastiness, blindfolding, bone shattering, buckets of blood
He knows it immediately for what it is, after the first moment of intense disorientation brought on by even more intense pain. He wakes to the same state he fell into fraught sleep in, curled in a corner wounded animal like, his limbs pulled as close to his body as he'd been able to manage with knees and elbows shattered. The bleeding from his skinned arm is sluggish, but continues, drop by drop; while awake he had sucked on them, but in his sleep a shallow pool formed under him again. The blindfold of skin across his eyes is all hot itching pain. Pain. Pain. But the compulsion cuts through it, a whipping command.
Eyes.
He knows the marker is there without knowing how, and no amount of agony can stop him twisting himself to grab hold of it with his mouth, between his mangled teeth. What he manages to draw on the floor of the cell is barely recognizable as the Prophet's symbol, but that hardly stops his second attempt, his third, and onward. And raging inside all the while, rage and terror - is this a sign of his mind going? But for all that he hisses and howls through his teeth and tries to bite down and break the marker, the need to keep going is stronger.]
Midday 261
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cw: eye horror and related blindness
oh holy shit
YEAH I love this
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Closed to the six sinners for Al's syringe
Hey-- how are you feeling?
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cw: eye horror and related blindness, skinning, reattachment of skin elsewhere
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cw; organs, severe burns
(no subject)
(no subject)
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Late afternoon 261, Sinners for Kid's syringe (Looking for volunteers, PM please!)
Bent forward, he clears his throat, free hand hovering over the lock of the cell he's stopped in front of.]
We are not trying to torture you. [He inserts the key into the lock, brows furrowed.] I want to help.
[ooc: I've committed four doses thus far, to Stephen, Cas, Davesprite and Billy. If you are interested in one of the other two doses, please PM me.]
cw: eye horror and related blindness, skinning, reattachment of skin elsewhere
(no subject)
cw: tongue mutilation, finger loss
;;;;;;;
expires
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cw lacerations; paralysis; body parts sewn to other body parts
(no subject)
(no subject)
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cw: body modification, forced restraint, stitches, hearing loss
(no subject)
(no subject)
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cw: skinning, some sensory deprivation, face alteration/mutilation
(no subject)
(no subject)
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