Fic Summary: Fugo and Bucciarati interrogate one of Diavolo’s surviving loyalists in Milan a few days after the fateful Battle for the Arrow, but the prisoner has a trick up his sleeve—and the torturer soon becomes the tortured.
‘Verse:Unlikely Salvation Timeline: Ariadne is in training with the feds
The Merry Whump of May 12: “How squeamish are you?” Panic attack|Blowtorch|Basement @themerrywhumpofmay Also inspired by chatter with @magnificenthurt
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Ariadne didn’t even know they had a blowtorch. Seeing it in Riven’s hand makes her stomach do a weird little lurch. “You’re not serious,” she says, unsure how much she’s joking. “Getting cold feet?” Riven quips with a grin. He gesticulates with the blowtorch, flicking it on for a second. “I could warm them up for you.” “Very funny.” “This guy’s a tough nut, you’re not getting anywhere with the whip. This little thing is a bit scarier, don’t you think?”
The warlock in question is a real monster. Multiple murders, terrorism, you name it. He definitely deserves everything he has coming. When Ari doesn’t move to unlock the cell door, Riven does it for her, and catches her arm casually to drag her in after him.
The prisoner snorts, watching him manhandle her, and spits blood onto the floor. She sees the moment that he spots the blowtorch. He goes rigid, derision falling from his face. Riven grins at him. “Scared?” he mocks. “You should be.”
(tags: fic tidbit, no plot, sickfic, vomit, violence mention, supportive Zer0 is trying okay, pandoran medicine is questionable at the best of times, let alone when you don’t bother to clear out your cabinet because you only ever use insta-health)
Rhys retches into the toilet again. Beside him, Zer0 searches the medicine cabinet, rattling through various pill bottles with faded labels and dubious expiration dates.
Rhys mops the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. Then he makes the mistake of glancing down into the toilet bowl, which does not help his nausea at all.
“Ohgod that’s gross. Don’t look, Zer0,” he warns miserably.
They snort and turn to him as they drop a large unlabeled bottle into the trash. The gelcaps inside shatter like glass when it lands, and Rhys silently agrees with their decision to chuck it.
Zer0 looks at the toilet and flicks their fingers dismissively. “You think I’m squeamish?/ Stomach contents are no big./ I spill guts daily.”
He peers up at them, still gripping the toilet seat in much the same way that he clings to the door handle when Zer0 is driving. “Other people’s?“ he hazards.
“Naturally.”
He drops his flushed cheek onto the cool metal of his arm and groans. “Zer0, buddy, I love you, please can there be less talk about disembowelment while I’m trying not to dry-heave?”
hi it’s time for sleep deprived middle of the night lifehacks with ink: you can buy the plastic barf bags they use in hospitals online for under 10 bucks, and having one in your purse or glove compartment is low key life changing. I can literally think of half a dozen times having one would’ve been huge for us when my brothers and i were little (rip my favorite coat when i was 4). one of em takes up almost no space and they’re vastly superior to almost any other emergency puke receptacle i’ve used.
10/10 my enthusiastic recommendation is only tempered by the fact that it’s not considered appropriate to bring up in most conversations
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