Wild Boy

The Martyr

                                                         Chapter 2                                                        The Prisoner        Three days had passed since Lance had been unceremoniously dragged away from his first cell and relocated to a new one, and he was not enjoying the accommodations.         This new room was much colder than the last, and his body suit definitely wasn’t a replacement for a nice, warm sweater. On top of that, his shackles had been attached to a small ring on the wall, about four feet off the ground and making it impossible for him to sit down comfortably.        After three days of being strung up, his shoulders were feeling stiff and painful, and he had stopped struggling in order to free himself from unnecessary pain. That did not mean, however, that Lance was going to take this treatment on the chin. “RELEASE ME, YOU FUCKING LONG-HAIRED ASSWIPE! STOP IGNORING ME, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!” He roared at the closed door.        Lance had been pretty sure he was about to experience some sort of heinous torture when he first arrived but so far, he had just been locked in the room, and the only time the doors had opened was when Zethrid or one of Lotor’s other general’s came in to feed him and give him water. He supposed he should be grateful that they were feeding him, but still, being ignored was not sitting well with him at all.        Just when Lance had shouted himself hoarse and was about to give up, the doors suddenly slid open with a metallic hiss revealing Lotor, an amused grin spread over his face.

       “My my, Blue, you are quite the noisy one aren’t you?”

       Lance’s eyes narrowed and he curled his lips up in a disgusted sneer, “I didn’t want you to forget I was here! Release me at once or -” he suddenly faltered, or what? What the hell could he do while he was chained up like this?        Lotor chuckled and seemed to guess what the blue paladin was thinking, “I am afraid I can’t do that, however - ” he broke off suddenly, his eyes seeming to almost shine in the dim light. Slowly, he approached Lance, looking down at his body with an almost hungry look in his eye. Reaching out, he slid his hand down Lance’s side, admiring how his suit accentuated his form, “If you really don’t want to be alone I suppose I could -”        Lance didn’t let Lotor finish his sentence; he wasn’t oblivious, and the way that Lotor was looking at him made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Without warning, he launched out as far as he could go, his head making contact with the prince’s with a sickening crunch.        Lotor stumbled backwards, swearing angrily and clutching his head. Pulling his hand away, he saw blood and growled. “ZETHRID!”        Lance glared at her as she tore into the room, blood trickling down his forehead; she surveyed the scene and approached Lotor, unable to hide the grin that was forming on her face.

       “Release him,” Lotor ordered, wiping the blood from his forehead, eyes narrowed in anger.

       “Yes, Sir,” she replied pulling the key from her hip and pushing it into the lock before standing back.

        Lance fell onto the ground, shoulders burning as he suddenly held out his hands to land. This was his chance! Lance prepared himself to roll forward and tackle Lotor, but before he could even move, fingers gripped Lance’s hair and dragged him to his feet. Lotor’s fist connected hard with his stomach, winding him. “Try that again and I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk ever again, understand?” Lotor growled, twisting Lance’s face to look him in the eye, which turned out to be a mistake as Lance suddenly spat into it. Lotor froze, anger bubbling in his gut, and he brought his hand up as if to slap him. Lance flinched away, bracing himself, but when the blow never landed, he looked up. Lotor let go of him and he tutted loudly, “Oh Blue,” he sighed, wiping his face, “you really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”        Before Lance could answer, Lotor turned to address his general. “Zethrid, take our guest to my chambers. It’s time he learned the true meaning of fear.”

——————- Chapter 1

Imagine your icon following you around for a full two months, Just giving you life advice as if you were in an rpg

“are you okay” no, next question

Therapist: I see sadness in your eyes

Me: that my sharingan

This is perfect.

when your joke ruins a conversation but you know it was amazing

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relationship advice:

get a dog instead 

When you tell your friend a really bad pun;