#23 - Injury

[canisalbus]

✦ 2023 summary of art ✦

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[deuynndoodles]

[ID: A colored, digital two page comic featuring Danny and Jazz from Danny Phantom. Danny wears a baggy hoodie over a shirt and jeans. Jazz wears a v-neck sweater and shorts.

Fentonworks, after curfew: Danny reaches for the doorknob to his bedroom, breathing out and gripping his shoulder.

"Where were you?" says Jazz, hands on her hips, making Danny jump. "Look, I know that Mom and Dad don't really care, but I do. You can trust me." She looks sad. "What's going on with you?"

"None of your business, Jazz." He looks irritated. He reaches for the doorknob again, muttering, "Just lemme sleep."

"Wait!" is written in all caps. Jazz reaches out, pulling at the hood of his jacket. Danny turns and raises his arm out of his hoodie, revealing an ectoplasmic injury. "Fuck off!" he yells.

Jazz pulls her hand away, startling backwards. Then, she looks sad as she says, "Oh, Danny…"

Fade out. They now stand in the Fentonworks bathroom, with Danny sitting on the toilet and Jazz hovering over him, cleaning a wound on his left shoulder. He's now in a binder and the original ectoplasmic wound has been treated. She scolds him and he grins nervously, curling in on himself. End ID.]

happy holidays @torscrawls !

[jasmines-library]

Lazarus Rising

WHUMPTOBER DAY 27: Prompt ‘scars’

Fandom: Batfam

Summary: after an accident takes your life, your brothers manage to find a way to bring you back. But it leaves you with a set of prominent scars that you struggle to come to terms with. But your brothers are there to help you realise that you are beautiful just the way you are.

Warnings: Death, description of wounds and scars, self hate.

Word count: 1.6k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

It was a nasty accident.

An accident that had cost you your life. Your brothers had raced towards you, trying to haul the debris from the exploded building off of your body, but they were too late. You were dead. Still chest, blank stare, stone cold dead.

For a while, no one dared to move as Bruce cradled your bloody body. Not one of the boys attempted to hide the tears that rolled down their cheeks as you lay there devoid life in a pool of your own blood. The shrapnel had embedded itself if your back, and had sliced into other parts of your skin. You could see from the gash on your hand and on your cheek where you had tried to protect your face in vain.

The sight made Damian queasy and so he was the first to turn away, trying to burry the thought that he would never see the way you smiled with your eyes or simply hear your voice again.

Jason was the last to move. Long After Bruce had hauled your body away and his older brother had tried to pull him away gently by wrapping a strong arm around him. But all he could do was stare blankly at the crimson that stained the ground. It should have been him. He was the one who was supposed to be on patrol that night. But he bunked off and you took his place instead. His stomach knotted, tightening around him like a noose. He promised himself that he was going to find a way to bring you back.

And he did.

He didn’t want to tell his brothers what he was trying to do at first. But they caught on quickly after Jason was unable to hide the dark bags under his eyes any longer and they threatened to tell Bruce if he didn’t let up.

They were hesitant at first, but soon the four of them spent their free time delving into books and research. For a short while, their efforts seemed in vain and there were more frustrated sighs drifting across the room than words. But in one glorious moment, the words finally floated into Jason’s ears.

“The Lazarus pit.” He read from the screen what illuminated his small face in the dark. He had managed to find it after getting in contact with his mother and wracking his brain for something she had accidentally mentioned in passing. Talia was reluctant at first, but with Damian’s charm she was quick to give in. “My mother knows where it is. We can bring y/n back but…”

Tim, who had crowded round his little brother squinted. “But what?”

“She’s not going to be the same. The pit it-

It messes with your mind. And it might not work at all… there’s a time frame.”

Jason shook his head and pulled on his coat. “It’s better than nothing.”

~

The four of them carried your body gently towards the swirling green liquid. The pit was hidden in some sort of cave that had been dug out into some sort of lab.

“So this is it, huh?” Dick asked as they lay you down gently next to the pit. He could hardly bring himself to look at you. Your beauty was still obscured by the nasty gash that still hadn’t closed. He was so gentle as he manoeuvred your fragile body, as though just his fingers grazing along your cold skin would hurt you.

“Yeah.” Tim sighed.

“Keep your guard up. We don’t know how she’s going to react when she wakes up. She might be scared and confused.” Headed Damian who had practically recited his mother's words after committing them to memory.

There was little else said as they eased your body into the green liquid, watching as you floated just below the surface. It didn’t take long for the chemicals to take effect, stitching your skin back together and bringing more structure back to your bones and more life back to your skin.

Suddenly, you sat up with a gasp, flailing and splashing the substance of the edge of the pool as you dragged yourself out of it. Your clothes clung sticky to your skin. Your eyes were wide and didn’t settle on anything long before they were darting to the next thing and the next after that.

When Tim reached out to you your instincts kicked in, and you gripped his hand to flung him over your shoulder which caused him to let out a grunt as he collided with the stone.

Your mind was racing at a million miles an hour. You were scared. You didn’t know where you were or why every inch of your body was drenched in a dull but persistent ache.

“Y/n?”

You froze calming down for just one brief moment. You knew that voice and its gentle lilt. It was a voice you could picture a face with. Dark haired with stern eyes, but behind the facade was really a gentle boy with a soft spot for his little sister. You turned, tilting your head at the boy.

“Jason?”

~

You couldn’t bear to glance in the mirror anymore because they were all your gaze could settle on. Pale and spidering the scars crawled up your back and along your neck to your cheek. The pit had worked to some extent and although your mind was seemingly recovering and readjusting, the pit had failed to completely heal your skin, leaving a scar in its wake. Damian said it was something to do with the time scale. Something to do with the fact that the Lazarus put worked better on the dead the shorter they had passed.

You still couldn’t quite come to terms with that word. Dead. It sat in your mind like a weed. No matter how many times you plucked it, it always wormed its way back through the cracks.

For the first few weeks of being back at the manor, you spent a lot of your time trying to cover up the angry lines. The ones on your back were easy enough. You had just resorted to wearing a hoodie. Usually one of the boys’. They gave you a sense of comfort. But after a while, you began to miss wearing your own clothes. You missed being able to express yourself without it feeling wrong. So, there you were, standing in front of your full length mirror in your favorite top, staring at the scar.

There was a soft knock on the door before it peeled open, whining on its hinges and Jason saw you standing there. He couldn’t help the small grin that ebbed onto his lips.

You immediately tried to cover yourself. “Get out.”

“I-“ Jason didn’t want to move. He often feared that it he took his eyes off of you for too long then you would vanish again. Which meant that he was checking in on you much to your dismay. He was so proud of how far you had come in just a few short weeks. “You look beautiful, y/n.”

You recoiled. What? “Jason. Don’t look at them.”

You were about to pull on a hoodie when Damian’s voice peeped round the corner. He had grown impatient and set off with Tim to drag you to movie night. Dick went with them too, unable to shake his worry. Since you came back the four of them were constantly on edge, even if they didn’t care to admit it. “Is she coming or- whoa.”

Tim nearly squealed at the sight of you. “I thought I’d never see that top again.”

Your skin flushed as you sank down onto you bed.

“All of you. Out.”

“Why?” Damian implored.

“Because…I don’t like people looking at them. They’re disgusting.”

“Why the hell would you think that?” Jason was practically outraged at your words.

You couldn’t help it when your eyes brimmed with tears and your voice wavered. “Look at them, Jay!”

“I don’t see anything wrong with them.” Dick shrugged coming to sit next to you. “Do you?”

The rest of your brothers shook their heads.

You gave him a look.

Dick rolled up his top to reveal a long scar along his solar plexus. “Do you see anything wrong with this one?” He asked. Jason then pulled up the hem of his red top and shifted round on the mattress to show you the ones that littered his back. They were pinkish and resembled various different shapes. Or those?”

You shook your head. “No…it’s just. They’re everywhere.”

“So? They’re beautiful y/n. You’re beautiful. Does having a scar make Jason any less of a person that he was before?” Tim asked. You shook your head meekly. “Your scars don’t define you. No matter how much you think they do. You’re still the same gentle girl you were before.”

“Besides,” Damian chimed, “I think they’re really cool. Like lightning.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that thought. Your brothers always had a way of bringing light to a dark situation. It was just something that they did; they helped without thinking no matter the cost. You were glad to have them by your side, even if they did get a little annoying at times.

Although it took a little while, and a bucket-load of tears, your slowly began to embrace the scars. You began to express yourself in new ways that you hadn’t done before. In ways that brought a beaming grin to your face. And to your brothers. They were unbelievably proud and their hearts swelled. But it was one thing that you had learnt that really stuck out to you. That they loved you, just the way you were.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 26 ⛤ DAY 28 ->

Taglist:

@deans-spinster-witch

@senjoritanana

@amaryllis23

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 23 - Forced choice, secrets revealed, (public display) - Warriors & Legend

Slipping some hdw au into this one heh heh heh

If you’re unfamiliar with it, all you really need to know is that hw Link is part dragon. Since this is lu, that’d be Warriors. Also unrelated to hdw, Legend’s mermaid tail works like it does in my other mermaid Legend fics. Hee.

Warnings: brief blood & injury, whipping (offscreen), brief/implied animal abuse.

Ao3 link

NEXT (day 29)

————————————————————

“All right boys, I have a deal for you.”

Warriors glared at the woman who’d spoken, her smile much too bright for the situation. Her boot pressed down harder on Legend’s chest, and the veteran wheezed, gills flaring as he tried to get in water that wasn’t there.

“The only deal I’m making is one that involves you letting him go,” Warriors snapped, and the woman let out a tsk, sending dark hair over her shoulder as she shook her head.

“That’s not an option. He’s just what my troupe needs, a new attraction, some extra spice. ‘The boy who can breathe both water and air! Watch as his legs twist into one, how he defies nature itself!’” she said excitedly. “Business will boom!”

The group of performers around her cheered, shaking their weapons in the air. Legend wheezed again, and Warriors looked down at him in a panic, his tail flapping weakly in the shallow water it rested in. It was just enough water to trigger Legend’s mermaid tail, but not nearly enough for him to breathe.

The whole situation was ridiculous honestly, the two of them swarmed by the group after Legend had tripped on a loose cobblestone and accidentally triggered his scales by falling into the gutter. It would be laughable if Legend wasn’t trapped and essentially drowning, and Warriors didn’t have a good dozen weapons pointed at his neck.

Legend’s face was starting to turn red from lack of air, and he was giving Warriors a look that begged him not to do anything stupid.

Unfortunately, Warriors already had a stupid plan forming.

“I’d hate to ruin such a pretty face, so here’s the deal,” the woman with her boot on Legend’s chest said. “You let us leave with your friend, no fighting, no following, and in return, we won’t kill you.”

“Pass,” Warriors said with a glare, sword clenched tightly in his palm. The woman made a pouting face.

“Aw, can’t we settle this like civilized people? We’ll be gentle, so long as you cooperate,” she smiled, and dug her heel into Legend’s ribs.

Legend grunted in pain, and Warriors swallowed, his thoughts whirling. His idea really was stupid, and the thought of using it made him cringe, but he was outnumbered and rapidly running out of time. Legend’s wheezes kept growing more frantic, and Warriors didn’t want to bet his safety on whether he could take on the entire crowd.

At least he wasn’t in his own Hyrule. Revealing the secret here would be awful, and he knew these people would exploit the knowledge, but at least it wouldn’t come with the political firestorm it would at home.

And if it got Legend free, it was worth it.

Warriors sighed.

“What if I have a better deal for you?” he asked, and the woman raised an eyebrow.

“What kind of a deal? If it involves you, I already have a fella,” she said mildly, and Warriors swallowed.

“Nothing like that. A trade. Me for my friend.”

Laughter went through the group, and the woman snorted. “You may have a pretty face, but you’re nothing compared to a merman, honey. Sorry.”

“Would it change things if I told you I’m half dragon?” he said quietly.

The woman’s ears flicked, her eyes widening. “Oh?”

“Yes. Much more exotic then a kid with a curse,” Warriors said, keeping his eyes off of Legend. He wished he could’ve told him about this on his own terms. Who knew what he was thinking at the moment. “If you let him go, I’ll come quietly.”

“And do everything I say?” the woman said with a raised eyebrow, and Warriors swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. He would escape. It wouldn’t be for long.

“Yes.”

She hummed consideringly, eyes trailing over Warriors. Legend wheezed again, and she glanced down at him, then back up again, crossing her arms.

“Well, I can’t really pass that up, can I?” she said, and snapped her fingers. Two burly men came up and grabbed Warriors’ arms, one twisting his sword out of his grip.

Warriors didn’t resist like he said he would, and happened to catch Legend’s eye, the other hero giving him an unreadable look. He was pretty sure he saw exasperation in his gaze though.

I don’t have a tail whenever I get wet, Legend, I’ll be able to escape better than you.

Warriors’ arms were tied behind his back, and he breathed out as the woman finally stepped off of Legend’s chest. A different bunch of people came forward as she snapped her fingers again, hauling Legend up out of the water, and they held him still while his tail split back into legs.

Legend began to struggle the moment he had his legs back, but the people held him tight, suddenly pulling ropes over his wrists and ankles. Warriors watched in shock as Legend was thrown back to the ground, a cloth tied over his mouth, and he snapped his gaze over to the woman.

“You said you’d let him go!” Warriors shouted, struggling wildly against the men’s hold. He shot an elbow out, trying to hit one in the face, but they only twisted his hands tighter behind his back, at an angle that felt like they were close to breaking.

The woman who was obviously in charge came over to him while he struggled, still smiling happily.

“We had a deal!” Warriors spat.

“We didn’t shake on it hon,” she said with a shrug, tapping his nose. “And there’s no way I’d pass up on a real mer. I happen to have a use for dragon blood at the moment, but even if you were lying about that, having another pretty face around is always good for business. I’m sure I’ll find a use for you somewhere.”

Warriors tried to lunge for her, but the men held him back, kicking his legs out from under him. Warriors dropped to his knees as she walked away with a laugh, and locked eyes with Legend, the veteran’s expression frantic as he was dragged away as well.

Oh Legend I’m sorry.

Then something hit him in the head, and with a burst of pain, Warriors knew no more.

(...)

A tapping noise woke him back up.

Warriors groaned, eyes flickering as he tried to figure out where the tapping was coming from. His head was throbbing, but it wasn’t too bad, and he pried his eyes open, a mostly dark room meeting him. The pounding kept up, more quickly now, and Warriors raised his head and looked to the side.

Two glowing eyes stared at him, and Warriors yelped, sitting up rather abruptly.

His head hit wood, and he made a pained noise, rubbing his forehead. He looked back over at the eyes, and Legend gave him a grim smile, the motion making the scales on his cheeks shine.

Oh. Right.

Warriors groaned, more in annoyance this time than anything, and glanced around, wrinkling his nose at the small cage he’d been dumped in. It was wood on the floor and ceiling, but metal bars blocked off everything else, the door firmly locked.

“Well. This is just lovely,” he sighed, and Legend let out a snort that shot out bubbles.

“Yeah, quite a nice predicament we’ve landed ourselves in. You okay, pretty boy?” Legend asked, his voice warbling a little strangely. Warriors was surprised he could hear him through the thick glass. “Or should I say dragon boy? Nice plan by the way.”

“Sorry, it was all I could think of,” Warriors apologized, leaning against the bars with a wince. The cage was so small he could only just barely sit up.

“Yeah, well it was a valiant effort,” Legend hummed, rubbing a dark bruise on his arm. He was silent for a moment. “Were you uh... were you serious?”

“About being half dragon?” Warriors asked, and Legend nodded. “...Yeah. It’s true. On my father’s side.”

Legend made a noise Warriors wasn’t sure how to interpret. “Huh. Well, I’ve heard weirder.”

Legend didn’t sound accusatory or disgusted or anything, mostly curious, and Warriors’ shoulders lost some tension he didn’t even know he’d been holding. It looked like Legend wasn’t weirded out much at all. Which was understandable since he was currently covered in blue scales and barely looked Hylian at the moment, but the reassurance was nice.

“...So how’d your mom get with a lizard exactly?”

Warriors’ goodwill towards Legend immediately disappeared. “Oh don’t even start, no, he has a hylian form! Don’t be weird!” he said in disgust, and Legend laughed, the sound oddly musical.

It broke into a bit of a wheeze, and Warriors’ exasperation turned into concern as Legend coughed a couple times.

“...Are you okay vet?” he asked worriedly, and Legend waved him off with a webbed hand.

“Yeah... yeah, ‘m good. Having a heel ground into my chest didn’t do me any favors,” he said with one last cough. “And all this going back and forth between lungs and gills isn’t much fun. But I’m alright.”

Warriors took a moment to study Legend, bruises painted across his skin, fins drooping. He didn’t look too bad, but he wasn’t in great shape.

“So how are we getting out of here?” Legend asked, breaking Warriors’ thoughts.

“We’ll think of something,” Warriors sighed, looking around his cage. “If I had something to pick the lock I could get out of this thing at least. Think you could get out on your end?”

“I already tried breaking the glass, it’s reinforced or something,” Legend grumbled. “And again with the lock, there’s bars over the top of the tank.”

“So we’re stuck for now, then.”

“Yep.”

Silence fell over them as they digested their situation, and Warriors sighed, looking around their prison. He was pretty sure there were in the back of a large wagon of some sort, based on the size and shape of the area. A few small beams of sunlight snuck through some cracks, lighting up more cages and equipment Warriors really hoped wasn’t for them.

He wondered what that woman was going to do with him. Legend was very obviously exotic—all she would really have to do was put him in a tank and the money would pour in—but Warriors looked rather normal. She said she had a use for him, for someone with dragon blood specifically, but what exactly was she thinking?

And how was he going to get him and Legend out of this mess?

A quiet chirping cry broke the silence, and Legend and Warriors both froze, pricking their ears.

“What on earth was that?” Legend asked in confusion, and Warriors shushed him, eyes narrowing. His night vision was a bit better than most Hylians, but he still couldn’t see very well in the shadowy room. And something about that sound...

He could just barely make out another cage, a spot of sunlight shining beside it, and another crying chirp came from its direction. Something about the sound struck Warriors right in the chest, and he kicked at the bars, peering through them and trying to see better.

“Whoa, what’s gotten into you? Any clue what that is?” Legend asked, and Warriors growled, kicking at his cage again.

“I don’t know, but it sounds hurt. I don’t think it—”

“Ma!”

Warriors went silent again, listening as the tiny voice repeated its cry. Legend looked utterly confused as Warriors kicked at the bars again, another tiny cry ringing through the room, and he growled in frustration.

“Cap, seriously, why are you so wound up? It’s probably just an animal or something,” Legend said confusedly, and Warriors stared at him. “I don’t like that it’s trapped either, but we can’t get it out right now.”

“An animal? Can’t you hear it talking?” Warriors said in disbelief, and Legend slowly shook his head.

“All I hear is growling and chirping. ...How hard did they hit your head?”

Warriors opened his mouth to argue, but a door was suddenly opened, and the room flooded with light. Warriors and Legend both squinted against it, and the chirping cries faltered into a whimper.

Footsteps clicked against the wooden floor, and the woman who’d gotten them both in here stood above the two of them, flanked by two larger assistants.

“Oh great, you,” Legend grumbled.

“Me. You might want to fix that attitude there merman, or today isn’t going to be much fun for you,” she said with a tsk. “Time to learn some tricks.”

“I already know plenty of tricks, I don’t need more,” Legend shot back, his arms crossed.

“It’s always good to expand your repertoire. But first,” she said with a clap, turning back to Warriors. “Let’s see that supposed dragon blood put to some good use. Hope you weren’t lying, honey.”

One of the burly people she’d brought with her stepped away, and went over to where the frantic chirping had been coming from. He came back with a cage in hand that was only about as big across as a shield, then put on a hefty pair of gloves.

The cage was set down, and then opened, the man quickly grabbing something from inside. A terrified chirp came from the cage, and Warriors and Legend both watched in shock as a tiny pale green dragon was yanked out, its eyes wide with fear.

Outrage burned in Warriors’ chest, and he watched in distaste as the poor creature was manhandled, the man avoiding its attempts to bite and claw him. Warriors stiffened as the man approached his cage, but didn’t have time to attempt an escape as he unlocked the door and quickly tossed the dragon in.

It hit the ground with a small thump, then wailed, scrambling to its feet and immediately running for a corner. It cowered against the bars, spikes on its back raised threateningly, and bared its teeth as a squeaky growl came from its throat.

Then it froze, nostrils twitching.

It raised its nose in the air, and suddenly looked straight at Warriors, eyes wide.

Then it made a beeline for him, chirping in distress as it clawed its way up his leg. Warriors jumped and nearly kicked it away, but something stopped him, something that told him the tiny dragon wasn’t a threat. Sure enough it didn’t try to bite him, and quickly latched itself onto his shirt, body trembling. Warriors carefully touched its head, and it butted cautiously against him.

“Well then, looks like you might have been telling the truth after all,” the woman hummed in interest, tapping her chin as the dragon clung to Warriors’ shirt. “I need someone who it’ll listen to, I haven’t made any progress getting the thing to behave. But if you’re dragon like it is, then you should have no problem.”

“He,” Warriors said quietly, running a careful hand over the tiny scales. The dragon nuzzled into his hand. “It’s a he.”

“Good to know. Start training it,” she said, and put a hand on the whip at her belt. “Or else this will be unpleasant for all of us.”

“Are you kidding? Look how small he is, he’s only a hatchling. You can’t train a baby,” Legend snapped from his tank, and the woman gave him a look.

“I’ll do whatever the public wants to see. Now come along honey, you have tricks to learn.”

The burly people she’d brought with her unlocked the top of Legend’s cage, then dragged him out despite his best efforts, tossing him onto the floor. Legend grimaced as his tail turned to legs yet again, and before he could recover he’d been grabbed and was quickly dragged away.

“Hey!” Warriors shouted when one of them kicked Legend, and the veteran struggled viciously. “Get your hands off—!”

The door was slammed, cutting off the sound of Legend’s struggling. Warriors was plunged into darkness once again.

He let out a tense breath, and looked down, the dragon still shaking against his chest. He was trying to work his way under Warriors’ scarf at the moment, and Warriors lifted a fold out of the way so he could slide in.

The shaking eased a little finally, and Warriors studied the tiny dragon in quiet curiosity. It was less like dragons he’d seen in his world and more like Wild’s, a long body, small legs, no visible wings. Two tiny horns poked from his head, and his eyes were bright with a pure green that reminded Warriors of Faron woods.

He’d never seen a dragon that wasn’t full-grown before, and Warriors looked at every detail in quiet fascination. He grew more worried the longer he studied the creature though, noting how thin he was, his scales lacking some sparkle.

Warriors may never have seen a baby dragon before, but he knew what a healthy dragon should look like.

And this wasn’t it.

“Ma,” the dragon chirped again, breaking him from his thoughts. He whimpered as he hid in Warriors scarf, claws scratching him a little. “Ma.”

A little wail came from the dragon, and Warriors felt that sharp feeling in his chest again, a frantic urge to fix the problem, get rid of the threat, stop the crying.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” he tried, wishing he could purr on command as the hatchling cried. Unfortunately that particular quirk only seemed to happen without his permission. “We’ll find your mom and get you out of here. Calm down.”

He scratched a careful hand over the dragon’s head, and his wails quieted a bit. He looked at Warriors with his bright eyes, and tilted his head.

“Ma?” he asked, and Warriors nodded.

“Exactly, we’ll get you back to your mom,” he assured, all while he was wondering how exactly he was going to do that.

The dragon made a small chirp, and nestled himself up next to Warriors’ neck, still shaking just a little. Warriors kept scratching near the base of his horns, and the dragon gradually relaxed, tiny claws flexing.

Warriors glanced at the empty tank beside them, worry clenching at his chest. He didn’t know what Legend was dealing with, but he hoped it wouldn’t be too bad.

Right. Like our luck is ever that good.

The dragon let out a sound Warriors thought was a sniffle, and he petted him again, letting him nuzzle deeper into his scarf. At least the little guy wasn’t attacking him. Can he tell I’m half dragon? Is that enough to label me not a threat?

...Or is it just a Hero thing?

Warriors sighed, and attempted to get in a more comfortable position as the dragon chirped again. It didn’t really matter much.

What really mattered was figuring out how they were going to get out of this.

(...)

Hours passed, Warriors attempting to talk to the dragon, and not getting very far. He gave up eventually, and tried to think of some semblance of a plan while he waited for Legend to come back.

But Legend was gone for a long time. Long enough that both Warriors and the dragon were asleep when the door finally reopened.

They both startled, and the dragon chirped in alarm as moonlight spilled into the room, tiny scales sticking up as he scurried under Warriors’ scarf. Warriors quickly sat up as the same two burly men came in, and sucked in a breath as Legend was dragged in behind them.

He wasn’t moving.

Legend was lifted up and tossed back in the tank without a word, and Warriors clenched the bars as he saw him jerk, blood floating through the water. A brief cry came from him as his legs merged back into a tail, and he went limp as it finished, breathing heavily.

“Legend?” Warriors asked frantically as the men left, leaving them in darkness again, “hey, Legend, talk to me. What did they do?”

Legend didn’t reply for a few long moments, floating silently except for his pained breathing. More blood wafted through the water, and Warriors caught a glimpse of red lines cut into his back.

“Oh Legend, did they whip you?” He whispered, and Legend finally opened his eyes, blinking slowly.

“Mm... yeah,” he mumbled, letting himself drift down to the bottom of the tank. He breathed out tiredly. “Kept talking back, refused to do what they wanted. Lady didn’t like it. Actually got loose once, gave her a black eye. Really didn’t like that.”

He chuckled, then grimaced, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Legend, why didn’t you just play along?” Warriors asked in dismay, and Legend huffed.

“Tried to at first. Didn’t work,” Legend grumbled, then hissed as he shifted around a little.

Warriors watched in alarm as a little more blood wafted into the water, and Legend grimaced as he tried to get himself into a comfortable position.

“‘M alright Wars,” Legend sighed when he fell still, his eyes closing again. “It’s not that bad. Won’t let ‘em win.”

“I know,” Warriors said quietly.

The dragon still in Warriors’ scarf finally poked his head out, and crept along Warriors’ arm, nose twitching as he stared at Legend. Legend opened his eyes again, and the two of them watched each other in silence.

“Made a friend?” Legend rasped, and Warriors hummed, reaching a few fingers through the bars to just barely brush Legend’s tank.

“Yeah. He mostly initiated it though. Poor little thing is terrified,” he replied, watching the dragon settle down on his arm. “And before you ask, I can understand him a little, but not everything.” Warriors had gotten as far as getting him to say something vaguely like his name, but that was really it.

“Any idea how he got here?” Legend asked, and Warriors shrugged, the dragon still watching Legend with his bright green eyes.

“He can’t talk that much. Probably the same way we did, more or less. But... I’m thinking he might actually help get us out of here, if I can figure out everything he can do,” Warriors said with a small smile. Legend hummed, and shakily moved forward a bit, resting his head against the side of the tank around where Warriors’ fingers brushed.

“I’ll let... you plan, then,” Legend murmured, and closed his eyes again.

“And you rest. Sounds good,” Warriors replied softly.

Legend didn’t say anything else, and Warriors kept his fingers on the glass until his breathing evened out, and he knew the younger hero was asleep. He drew back with a sigh, leaning his back against the bars again, and the little dragon moved to his lap, still watching Legend.

“You hear that little guy?” Warriors said softly, running a hand over his head. “I’m going to think of a plan to get us all out of here.”

“Ink,” the dragon chirped in agreement, nestling up to his shirt.

Warriors sighed again as the little dragon closed his eyes, and while the more scaly prisoners slept, Warriors thought and planned, all to the sound of tiny snores and raspy breathing.

[hubba1892]

[pigeonneaux]

Lahjakääryleet gift for @zomb1edude

[serickswrites]

Always on my Mind

Warnings: collapse, stab wound, blood, bleeding out, unconsciousness, hospital, bedside vigil

"You're always on my mind," Team Leader said as they sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair. "I can't stop thinking about what I did and didn't do. And what you did and didn't do."

They took Smallest Teammate's hand in theirs, their fingers curling around Smallest Teammate's icy ones. "I just wish I had noticed you. I wished I had seen what had happened. I wish I had done something. Why didn't you say anything?"

Team Leader's guilt was all consuming. They hadn't noticed Whumper stab Smallest Teammate in the back. Hadn't noticed that Smallest Teammate was missing until after Whumper had been stopped. Hadn't noticed Smallest Teammate--the loudest member of their team--was unusually quiet.

"A job well done, don't you think?" Team Leader said as they sidled up next to Smallest Teammate.

"Yeah," Smallest Teammate had replied softly.

"Cheer up, Smallest Teammate. I'm sure there will be more bad guys for us to go after when we get back," Team Leader said as they clapped Smallest Teammate on the shoulder.

Smallest Teammate didn't reply as their knees buckled. "Smallest Teammate?" Team Leader grabbed Smallest Teammate by their collar, holding them up. Smallest Teammate's head lolled on their neck as they went completely limp. "What in the--HELP!" Team Leader roared as they saw Smallest Teammate's shirt was coated with blood. "HELP!" They shouted as they put pressure on the stab wound on Smallest Teammate's back.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Team Leader said as they tried to shake the memories of trying to wake Smallest Teammate. Of trying to keep Smallest Teammate's blood in their body. Of carrying Smallest Teammate out of the compound. They had been certain that Smallest Teammate was dead. That they were carrying Smallest Teammate's corpse out of there.

But Smallest Teammate was still alive. And had stayed alive. "I am so sorry I didn't notice. I...I failed you as your team leader. Please, Smallest Teammate, wake up. So you can forgive me. Please."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@artisticdemon

[a-sin-to-be-rin]

Children Shouldn't Gamble With Dead Things (Part 3)

When Bruce warned Dick about Two-Face, he set one inflexible rule:

Don't make deals with the devil.

But with the stakes this high, Dick has to do something. So here he is, flipping a coin with Harvey Dent.

Part 1

Part 2

---

“Well?”

Master Bruce hands the letter back to Alfred and turns away, staring out the window.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

The following silence is deafening.

“I expected better of you, Master Bruce.”

Still, he says nothing.

“The lad is injured, upset, and missing. Aren’t you going to do something? Do you even care?”

Master Bruce turns back to Alfred, shoulders tense. “Harvey Dent escaped tonight. Two-Face is free.”

Alfred feels sick.

“Man the comms,” Master Bruce orders. “Watch for Two-Face sightings. I’ll find Dick.”

Heart in his throat, Alfred nods. He’s immediately on his feet and headed for the Batcave. Master Bruce isn’t far behind, silent.

In all of Alfred’s years of caring for him, Master Bruce has expressed three distinct forms of silence. The first is companionable, reserved only for those he’s closest with. The second (and most common) occurs when he’s thinking. He takes in new environments. He picks up little details and forms an analysis with it, like life is simply a logic puzzle, begging to be solved. And the third is for when Master Bruce’s head is filled with something other than thought. It happens when his emotions rampage in his mind like a herd of carnivorous rhinos. He becomes overwhelmed, stuck inside his head as he desperately tries to control the situation.

Today, Master Bruce’s silence is of the third kind. And Alfred is silent too, giving Master Bruce the space to wrangle his thoughts.

And to be honest, Alfred’s mind is raging a bit too. So the silence isn’t unwelcome. It’s the closest thing to relief that either of them will feel until Dick is found.

---

Dick left too soon. He was barely ready to walk, much less sneak out of the manor and roam the streets of Gotham. He should have waited - let himself heal a bit more - before he ran away.

But Dick needed to get out immediately. He couldn’t stand to be some useless little kid, staying in Bruce’s home and eating Alfred’s food without providing anything in return. If he had to stay in that bed for another five minutes, he would have lost his mind.

But now Dick’s out on the street, slinged arm tucked inside a red hoodie. His ribs are still a horrific shade of purple, though it’s beginning to yellow around the edges. He aches and he’s tired and his head spins a bit, but he keeps moving. He doubts Bruce is looking for him - and why would he? - so he’s not concerned about Batman catching up to him. The police, however, are bound to see a kid wandering around at 10 AM on a Tuesday and get suspicious. And that’s a one-way trip back to the manor.

Or…

No. Bruce would probably send him back to the youth center. What’s the point in keeping him? He’s not Robin. And Bruce doesn’t want a son.

So Dick keeps moving, even as his injuries wear on him. Even as his torso shrieks in pain. Even as his arm begins to throb and he gets lightheaded. The pain medicine must be wearing off. And Dick didn’t take any with him, so he simply endures it.

Doing his best to be discreet, Dick hops on a bus and rides it to Old Gotham. He hides behind a tall man during the ride, doing his best to keep his face covered (Gotham buses have more security cameras than the White House), but no one calls him out. The tall man doesn’t turn around and say, “Aha! You’re runaway Dick Grayson! I’m sending you back to the youth center!” He minds his business. Dick is just paranoid.

Gotham Public Library is a short five-minute walk from the bus stop. Dick makes it in fifteen. His body is starting to shut down, which is absolutely not in the escape plan. He musters all his strength and slips in through the library side door, sitting down at one of the computers. Dick doesn’t stay long. Just long enough to google “Haly’s Circus tour dates.”

Haly’s isn’t close. Not even a little. They’re currently in Tampa. But that’s okay, because Dick could stand a few days on a Greyhound bus. To be honest, it sounds like a relief. Dick could get a little sleep. He could definitely use a nap-

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” An elderly woman is gently tapping his good arm, concern cemented in the lines of her face.

Dick sits up. He must have fallen asleep at the computer. He blinks a few times (the lights are getting unbearable, and the painkillers have definitely worn off), trying to get his bearings.

“I… I’m okay,” he replies, trying and failing to give her a charming Flying Graysons smile.

But the woman isn’t convinced. “Did someone hurt you?”

And it’s a fair question. He is sporting a fair number of bruises and bandages.

“No,” he lies. “I fell off my bike.”

She's still frowning, expression reeking of concern. “Are you here all alone?”

Dick resents that question. Because first of all, Dick is plenty old enough to be in a library by himself, thank you very much. And secondly, if she thinks Dick is alone, she's probably going to call the police.

And Dick won’t let them take him back to the center. Never again.

“No. My, uh, my dad’s in the car. Our wi-fi went out, and I have an assignment due today. Online school, yanno?” Dick doesn’t know if online school is even a real thing, but the woman doesn’t call him on it. She just frowns deeper, eyes flicking to the computer screen, still open on Haly’s Circus tour dates.

“Can I talk to him? I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Darn it.

“Um… yeah. Yeah, he’s in the, um, the white Honda in the parking lot. But, um. I really need to use the bathroom, so I’ll catch up with you?”

The woman smiles sadly. “That’s okay, dear. The bathroom’s right there. I’ll wait for you.”

Dick almost cries. He’s in so much pain, and he’s so tired, and he’s so through with fighting people that he almost collapses on the floor and has a full-on toddler tantrum.

But he doesn’t, because Dick was Robin, once. He’s smart and capable and good at what he does.

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, shuffling over to the bathroom. The minute the door shuts behind him, he searches the walls, trying to find a window. But Dick isn’t lucky enough to find one. The room is completely boxed in without an escape route in sight.

Dick sighs, splashes water from the sink on his face, and towels off, feeling stray drops hit his forehead. Then he returns to the woman.

“Let’s go see your dad, okay, hon?”

Dick nods, blinking away stars. “Yeah.”

They leave through the library’s main entrance, and (as expected) there are at least three white Hondas in the lot.

“Which one is it, dear?”

Dick picks the one at the far end of the lot. “That one.”

The woman’s brow furrows, worry sparking in her eyes. “That’s my car.”

Aaand that’s Dick’s exit. He turns and sprints away, his body screaming with every jolt. Each stride threatens to disappear beneath him, spilling him onto the concrete. But Dick really can’t afford this right now. He needs to get out of here before the librarian calls the police.

He runs for as long as he can. It isn’t nearly as long as he’d hoped. Busted up like this, he can’t do much of anything for too long. He can’t go down alleys either, which is proving to make his life more and more difficult each second that he spends out in the open. He needs a place to hide.

Now.

---

Bruce doesn’t usually patrol during the day. He’s done it once or twice before, but it’s always done out of necessity, not habit.

And today, it’s definitely a necessity.

“Penny-One, any hits?”

“Negative on both counts.”

“Not even the trackers?”

“No. It seems Master Dick took it upon himself to dig the trackers out of his trainers.”

“How did he even know they were there?” Bruce mutters, more to himself than Alfred. Alfred replies anyway.

“He was trained by you, sir.”

Bruce never should have taken him on as Robin. Truly, genuinely, if he hadn’t done any of this, Dick would be safe and healthy. As usual, the blame lands solidly on Bruce’s shoulders. (Or he believes it does, anyway.)

Bruce arrives at the apartment building at Gibson and Schwartz. He doesn’t waste time getting out of the car, instead popping the top of the Batmobile and grappling to the apartment roof.

It’s an old building, rife with the city’s infamous Gothic architecture. This includes, of course, a wide array of gargoyles. Dick’s favorite gargoyle is up here, and Bruce has found him hiding behind it more than once. Unfortunately, this is not the case today.

Bruce had suspected as much. Unless Dick had made a heat-of-the-moment decision, he wouldn’t have come to such an obvious spot. But still, Bruce had to try.

And now that the gargoyle is safely ruled out, Bruce can use the current facts to guide his investigation.

Fact: Dick is injured.

So Dick is either close to the manor or took some form of transportation. A bus or a taxi. The subway, possibly, but less likely due to the distance between the subway station and the manor. 

Fact: Dick said that he was going to “move on” and that he wasn’t sure what he was “supposed to do” if he wasn’t working as Robin.

Meaning the boy intends to go somewhere where he will know what to do. Where he does have a purpose. This could be anything, really, but as a nine-year-old, he knows very few ways to live his life. One is Robin. The other is the circus.

Fact: Dick didn’t take anything with him. His suit, equipment, and phone were left behind.

Though it’s not certain, Bruce feels comfortable inferring that Dick doesn’t intend to work as Robin on his own. At least until proven otherwise. If he really was going to be Robin, he would have taken at least some of his gear. A grapple gun. Maybe a few smoke bombs.

And if Dick doesn’t plan on being Robin, then he’s probably trying to find Haly’s Circus.

“Penny-One, where is Haly’s Circus currently touring?”

“One moment, sir… They’re in Tampa for the next week.”

“Got it.”

But one thing is not quite right.

Fact: Dick left his phone, and Haly’s isn’t in his search history.

Bruce knows, because he looked. It was the first thing he did. Some might interpret this as a sign that Dick isn’t looking for his old troupe, but Bruce knows better. He knows that before Robin, Haly’s was his only family. He wanted nothing more than to return to them, even after Bruce took him in.

So Dick doesn’t want Bruce to know where he’s going. He purposefully didn’t look up anything regarding Haly’s or his escape. He doesn’t know where Haly’s is, but he’s intent on finding out.

“Sir, I’ve intercepted a GCPD report that may be of interest.”

“Play it back,” Bruce orders, jumping off the building and allowing the grapple to ease his descent. 

“3014,” a woman’s voice crackles. “London at Amnesty. Suspected runaway. RP reported a male subject sleeping at the library. Subject was injured and ran away when asked about his parents. White male, ten-to-twelve years, dark hair, red jacket, blue jeans.”

Bruce hops in the Batmobile and peels out towards Gotham Public Library. Dick - assuming that report is about Dick - may have gotten some distance away by now, but he’s hurt. He can’t have made it far.

---

The Greyhound bus station is around here somewhere. Surely it’s in the financial district or maybe along the border of Old Gotham. But Dick has never been there before, and without a phone to look it up, he's flying blind. He makes random turns and crosses streets aimlessly. At best, he randomly runs into the station. And if that doesn't happen, he’ll at least leave a difficult trail to follow. His head is foggy, but he believes his logic to be sound.

“-escaped Arkham. If you see this man on the street, do not engage-”

Dick stops dead in his tracks, poking his head through the open cafe door. A TV above the barista bar shows a newscaster speaking beside a massive photo of Two-Face. Below the picture, in large font, are the words “MURDERER ESCAPES.” Dick tastes bile.

“Two-Face is incredibly dangerous and will cut you in half if that’s his prerogative. Twins and people born on February second should take extra caution when coming home tonight. We’ll keep you updated as the situation develops. Back to you, Betty.”

Alfred taught Dick all about the nervous system. He knows about the sympathetic response. That “fight, flight, or freeze” instinct. Unfortunately for Dick, none of those options are viable. Dick couldn’t win a fight against a day-old puppy, much less Two-Face and his goons. Flight is also impossible unless the Greyhound station is the next store over. (It is not, in fact, the next store over. That honor goes to a dual ballet studio and boxing gym.) And freezing has never been a choice.

But there’s an alternative. It’s arguably a form of flight, but it’s much kinder on Dick’s aching ribs and spinning head.

Hide.

“-okay?”

Dick blinks. Then he groans. He fell asleep. Again. Standing up. “Sorry,” he mutters, sitting up. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“Are you… You look real busted up. Come inside, okay?”

Dick struggles to his feet, but he falls to one knee the second he straightens up.

“Whoa!” the barista says, grabbing under Dick’s arm. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurtcha. I just wanna get you off the sidewalk. There’s some bad guys out there today.”

It comes back to him. Two-Face. Two-Face is free.

Dazedly, Dick lets the teen pull him up and walk him to a cafe table. He all but collapses in the chair, even the slightest movement blurring his vision and setting his nerves on fire.

“There y’go,” the barista says reassuringly. “You’re alright.”

“Thanks,” Dick grunts, one arm coming up to guard his ribs.

“Molly,” the barista calls to his coworker behind the bar. “Couldja grab him a hot chocolate?”

And then he turns back to Dick, worry creasing his brow. “Are your parents around here somewhere?”

And Dick doesn’t have the energy to lie. “No,” he says, taking shallow breaths.

“Yeah.” The barista doesn’t question it. Like the librarian, he’s probably familiar with Gotham’s chaos. He knows better than to dig too deep. “Is there somewhere for you to go? Can I take you to the clinic or something? Dr. Thompkins’s place is down the street.”

Dr. Thompkins?

If Dick goes to Leslie, she’ll no doubt tell Bruce right away. And then he’ll get scolded and taken back to the manor. Back to that cold, stifling, tension-rife house that stopped being Dick’s home when Robin ended.

“No,” Dick pleads. “No, I can’t… I can’t go there. I don’t… I can’t…”

“Dick.”

That isn’t the barista talking. It isn’t the barista’s coworker. It’s deep and gravelly and oh-so distinct.

Batman.

“No,” Dick says, heart racing in his chest. He stumbles out of the chair and crashes to the ground. He pushes himself back, trying to just get away.

“Hey,” the barista says, stepping between Batman and Dick. “Leave him alone.”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Batman growls. And oh. He’s angry.

“It’s in the cafe. Pretty sure it does concern me. And if you think you’re gonna hurt a kid, y’better think again.”

The lenses of Batman’s cowl narrow. He chews on his tongue. “Dick,” he says simply, looking over the teenager’s head. “Bruce is very worried about you.”

Dick scowls. “Yeah, right. He doesn’t need me anymore. He doesn’t want me. So just leave me alone.”

“Bruce is sorry,” Batman insists. “He never should have taken that away from you. And he’s willing to negotiate. And he… He wants to talk to you. He’s scared.”

And that makes Dick hesitate. Because Bruce? Admitting he’s afraid?

Dick never thought it’d happen. Never.

“Two-Face escaped,” Batman continues. “If he found you, Bruce would never forgive himself.”

“I’ll go back to talk,” Dick agrees begrudgingly. “But I’m not staying.”

“That’s okay, chum. That’s alright.”

The barista looks between the two. “I… feel like I’m missing something.”

“Here.” Batman shoves a wad of cash in the tip jar. “Thank you for protecting him.”

“I was protecting him from you,” the barista says, more and more confused by the second. “I… Kid, you don’t have to go with him.”

Dick nods, painfully pulling himself up and leaning against a booth. “I know. I want to.”

“You’re sure?”

Dick looks at Batman. Even under the cowl, he’s devastated. Dick never thought he cared that much. And maybe this is just an act. But Batman doesn’t have emotions. Bruce does. So Batman, wrecked and desperate?

“Yeah,” Dick assures him. “I’m sure.”

---

The drive back is silent. Not in an awkward, not-sure-what-to-say kind of way. No, it's actually surprisingly relaxed.

But that's probably because Dick is asleep the whole time.

Bruce kind of prefers it this way. There’s no awkward, forced small talk. No bursts of outrage. No tension at all. Just Bruce and his overwhelming guilt.

Dick doesn’t look good. Bruce doesn’t know what he looked like when he first ran away (Bruce actively avoided the boy after breaking the news about Robin), but he probably looks worse. The kid managed to escape his watch for nearly a full day. The painkillers likely wore off ages ago. Dick put a ton of undue stress on his injuries just by walking, much less crossing the city.

And only Bruce is to blame for this. Dick is a kid. Or… he was a kid. Before his parents fell. Now he’s caught in the in-between, with the problems and trauma of a full grown man but the mind and body of a child.

Bruce knows the feeling well. And he knows what chaos can come of it. How much violence and fear and pain results. If Dick was illogical in running away (and he was), Bruce can’t hold him accountable. Even if he wants to.

No. This is Bruce’s fault. Even if Robin needed to end, Bruce should’ve stuck around. He assumed Dick just needed space. Time to think. He thought his presence would only mock Dick. After all, why would the ex-Robin ever want to see Batman? Why would he want to be reminded of what he lost?

But if Bruce is to believe Dick’s letter (and he does), it seems distance was exactly the opposite of what Dick needed. It made him feel isolated and unwanted. A nuisance. Bruce dropping out of his life made him think that if he wasn’t Robin, Bruce didn’t want him. (Didn’t need him.)

“Ugh.”

In the corner of Bruce’s eye, he sees Dick shift, hissing as the movement jars his ribs.

“...B?” Dick sounds confused.

“Dick,” he says back. “We’re almost there.”

“‘There…’” Dick echoes, rubbing his forehead. “The Cave. Right.”

“You’re still okay with that?” Bruce almost hits his head off the steering wheel. He shouldn’t even give Dick an opening to get out of this. As Dick’s guardian, Bruce has every right to bring him home. Dick really doesn’t have an option here.

But Dick is amiable, if exhausted. “Yeah,” he agrees, mopping his face with his good hand. “It’s cool.”

And that’s a relief, because Bruce is currently pulling the Batmobile into the Cave. He gets out and waits for Dick to do the same. When Dick doesn’t open the door, Bruce circles the car and pulls it open himself.

“You okay, chum?”

Dick stares ahead, eyes slightly unfocused. “Um. Yeah. Gimme a second, B.”

So, impatiently, Bruce waits, pulling his cowl off and jamming his gloves between his belt and his suit. After a long minute, Bruce stoops again, holding out a hand to Dick.

“C’mon, kiddo,” he urges. “Let’s get you out of there.”

Too slowly, Dick turns to look at him, grabs his hand, and allows himself to be pulled to his feet. The moment he’s upright, his knees give out, and Bruce has to slip one arm behind the boy’s back and the other under his knees. It’s an easy, practiced motion, if only because Bruce expected the boy to go down sooner or later. He’d left the manor far too soon. He’d stayed out far too long.

And the fact only makes Bruce’s guilt intensify.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred is looking across the Cave at him, and even from this distance, Bruce can see the tension in his shoulders. His hands are fluttering over the drug cart, already prepping an IV.

“He’s okay,” Bruce says, though he doesn’t know that. In fact, he’s moving faster than Alfred is, hurried steps taking Dick to the med bay.

“M’okay,” Dick murmurs softly, though his eyes still won’t focus. “S’all good.”

“What hurts, chum?” Bruce asks, setting the boy down on a cot.

“‘m just…” He hums, closes his eyes, and then slowly blinks them open again. “Just tired, B. And…” Dick searches for the right word, his good arm curling across his ribs. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?” Bruce asks, connecting the vitals monitor while Alfred throws in an IV.

Dick considers this. Or he looks like he considers it, anyway.

“... yes.”

“Uninsightful as ever, Master Dick,” Alfred tuts softly. “Look at my nose,” he orders, shining a penlight in Dick’s eyes.

Bruce lets Alfred fuss over the boy, helping where he can and stepping back when he can’t, trying to stay out of the way. When Alfred is done assessing and has adjusted medications accordingly, Dick is still awake and relatively aware, watching Alfred with a passive interest.

“You’re not to leave this bed,” Alfred orders. “Understood?”

“‘course, Alfie.”

“Prepare to face dish duty if you break that promise.”

Dick whines appropriately. While normally an annoyance, Bruce is happy to hear Dick’s complaining. It means he’s still with them. It means he’s alive and here and safe.

“Alfred.”

The butler turns towards Bruce, one eyebrow arched. “Sir?”

“Have there been any updates on Two-Face?”

Alfred’s expression sours. “No. And if you suggest returning to the streets to find him, I may put you on bedrest as well, sir.”

It goes against Bruce’s every instinct. Because knowing Two-Face is out there? Free and capable of killing innocents?

The last thing Bruce wants to do is stand by and watch it happen.

“Need I remind you of what happened the last time you abandoned the boy? Or is yesterday recent enough for you to recall?

Bruce scowls, but point taken. “I remember, Alfred.”

“Good. Then perhaps you’ll heed my counsel this time.”

“You were right,” Bruce agrees. “No need to remind me.”

“Respectfully, I think there was a need, but I appreciate your attempt at character growth.”

“You’re dismissed, Alfred.”

Alfred walks away without another word, but Bruce doesn’t hear his footsteps up the stairs. He’s still in the Cave, though Bruce can’t tell if it’s to monitor Dick’s condition or to keep Bruce from saying something stupid.

“B?” Dick says, voice suddenly desperate as he tries to sit up. His gaze flicks around the room before settling on Bruce. He falls back against the pillow, expression easing a touch.

“I’m here.”

“B, I’m…” He sighs, twisting the blankets with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m sorry. I never shoulda… I shoulda known it was a trap, but… B, I thought he was gonna kill you. I didn’t want to…” His eyes water, but he stubbornly looks up, trying to keep the tears from leaking out. “I couldn’t lose you. Not after…” He doesn’t finish the thought.

“I know,” Bruce assures him, sitting on the edge of the bed and running a hesitant hand through Dick’s hair. The boy leans into his touch, and he repeats the motion, slightly more confident. “And I never should have put you in that position. That’s why you can’t be Robin. You shouldn’t have to make that choice. And the rogues see Robin as a target. I can’t make you some bartering chip in Batman’s mission.”

Dick tenses. “No. No, you can’t take that from me,” he insists, fatigue softening the intensity of his conviction. “I’m Robin. I can’t… I can’t go back to being… I can’t be an orphan for the rest of my life, B.”

Bruce frowns. “What do you-? Wait. Robin isn’t Batman’s kid.”

The boy looks away, expression breaking. A tear slips down his cheek. “I… I know.” But his tone isn’t one of knowledge. It’s one of realization. He’s just now seeing it the way Bruce does.

“Did you…?” Bruce’s hand hovers near Dick’s face, but he can’t bring himself to brush away the tear. He doesn’t deserve to comfort the boy. “Did you think this was conditional? I’m not kicking you out for not being Robin. I took you in to help you, not to fill a position.”

“You fired me,” Dick seethes, voice strengthening with pure ire. “Of course you were filling a position!” He pushes himself up, catching himself on his hands when vertigo almost pulls him back down. Bruce reaches out to help, and Dick swats his hands away. “How could you pretend to care when you stopped caring after Robin died? You never wanted me. And now you don’t even want Robin. Don’t lie.”

“I-” Bruce is taken aback. He knows just how angry Dick can get. But this is a new level. “Of course I still want you. I was giving you space.”

Dick scowls, tears falling freely now. “Liar. You’re Batman. You’ve always been Batman. Bruce Wayne isn’t a real person. He doesn’t want me because he doesn’t exist. And if Batman doesn’t want Robin, then no one wants Dick Grayson.” He watches Bruce with unrivaled fury. “Why did you bring me back? So you could reject me again? Just let me…” His breath catches in his throat, strength failing him. He buries his face in the pillow. “Just let me go, B,” he mumbles.

Bruce swallows hard. He isn’t a father. He’s never been a guardian before. But he’d thought…  He’d just assumed that having that similar history - that sharing a tragic past - would tie them. Even if Dick wasn’t Robin, Bruce thought they’d still have that. But now it’s quite clear:

Both Bruce and Dick watched their parents die. But Dick was the only one who got a taste of belonging after, only to have it taken away.

To Bruce, Batman is a duty. An obligation to prevent others from facing the same tragedy as him. But to Dick, Robin is an opportunity. A chance to have a family again. A chance to feel wanted again.

And Bruce neglected that critical difference.

“What can I do?” Bruce asks, softening his voice. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

Dick ignores him.

“Dick, chum, I…”

What can he say? Bruce cares about Dick. He’s warmed up to the boy’s cheesy humor and easy demeanor. He’s grown to like (and perhaps love) this child, but Bruce has no clue how to express it.

Because Bruce is a man who rarely shows his face. Not when Batman occupies his every waking thought. So Dick has a point. If Bruce is only Batman and Batman got rid of Robin, then who’s supposed to care about Dick Grayson? Not only has Bruce taken away Dick’s chance to seek justice, but he’s also taken away his only hope at being loved.

God, this is depressing.

“Dick, let’s…” He rests a tentative hand on Dick’s back. The boy doesn’t flinch away. “We’ll talk about Robin again. I swear. I shouldn’t have taken that from you. But I don’t think… I don’t know what to do right now. Can we wait a bit? Let’s get you better first. Then we can come back to Robin.”

Dick turns onto his side, watching Bruce with bloodshot, betrayed eyes. “You’re just trying to shut me up. You’ll fire me again the second I’m better.”

“No,” Bruce says softly, brushing back Dick’s hair. “I… I care about you, chum. I don’t know if I’ve ever been as scared as…” He takes a deep breath, hand settling heavily on Dick’s neck. He can feel the boy’s pulse against his palm, and it reassures him, if only slightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as I was watching Dent hurt you. And you were so still, I… God, I thought you were gone.” He shakes his head, trying to force the thought from his mind. “I’ll admit, I don’t know how I care about you. I don’t know if it’s Bruce or Batman or some weird in-between, but I can say with complete confidence that I care about you. Not Robin. You. Dick.”

Dick’s skepticism melts into something far more vulnerable. Something far more childlike than this world-weary nine-year-old has ever expressed. His good hand comes up to grab Bruce’s hand. He sighs, almost content. Uncertain, but perhaps hopeful.

“I care about you too,” the boy admits. He closes his eyes, but he doesn’t release Bruce’s hand. “Can you… stay? At least for a little?”

“I’m not leaving you, chum,” Bruce swears. “Not ever again.”

[psychic-waffles]

Wangliu are back and skating for hot people everywhere

[kheprriverse]

The Final Battle.

Masterpost || Next

[account-name]

Phone Guy Month 2024

23 - injury

this is how me and phone guy first met :)

dw i take her to the hospital and he survives

[moonshynecybin]

how about if marc and vale had reconciled in 2019 (and started dating, not more situationship this time). how do you think vale would have reacted to the 2020 injury and the years of pain that followed?

i’ve been chewing this over for an ask maïna sent me. and i think that it’s a really tough hurdle for them to be together while they’re riding against each other in GENERAL. it’s a sport of daring it’s a sport of risk it’s a sport that rewards those who are not just smart but often very very brave. no little voice in the back of their head telling them no to do that because they’ll die kinda deal. and marc absolutely does NOT have that voice, and vale i think DOES. to an extent. and i think all of his past traumas with his dad and friends dying/getting injured have made impacts on him in ways that have made him um. maybe more conscientious on track? a little less inclined to risk a little more inclined to plan

butttt that doesn’t mean he has the leeway to not be ruthless ! (and i think there’s something to it that he never won again after sic died…) so if youre valentino rossi and you add a romantic interest as a rival (especially. marc marquez.) suddenly there’s this HUGEEE internal conflict where vale might want (subliminally or consciously) to pull the proverbial punch— and frankly winning means too much to him for him to let that shit slide!! pulling the punch is absolutely NOT an option!! like i think one of the primary and sexiest tensions in the rosquez relationship is that racing is the most important thing to BOTH of them, (except when they’re making room to hate each other..) and they refuse to make sacrifices concerning racing for the sake of the other EVER. he can’t worry about marc (even though he clearly IS, and he keeps tabs on his injuries MANY times over the course of their friendship so i can’t imagine his throat didn’t close up when marc went flying on jerez a little bit)

so he can’t deal with marc as something that might make him vulnerable on ANY level and s he blows the relationship up. and then they stay apart because of all of those same reasons PLUS the drama of sepang. and then you add ARGENTINA into the mix, where vale is not only witnessing marc be reckless, he’s dragging vale HIMSELF into it, and i have a hard time conceptualizing a reunion while they’re still racing each other… like obviously i WILL mash them together like barbies but. this one is tough ! it gets at one of their deepest issues imo

so all this to say. jerez 2020 is weird because it’s the first season vale actually and for real starts to decline superrrr noticeably. so he’s in a weird place ego wise (he identifies it as the time he first thought about retiring) and MARC is in a weird place ego wise and i think. vale, if they HAD reconciled in 2019, has basically been on the edge of his seat waiting for something like this to happen for years. expects it a little bit in that same way you do if you’ve been traumatized in the same way enough. and marc breaks his arm and maybe vale has covid and can’t convince marc not to race (i think he’s maybe the only non alex who could !) and marc goes out there and like. does what he does and his arm gets fucked ! maybe forever ! and then i think it is. lowkey a nightmare for vale every second marc races after that. like it means too much to him he CANT stop marc from racing he’s seeing how much it’s ripped at him when he can’t climb on a bike (vale is the one who comes up with taking the wheels of marc’s training bikes) and he wants to ask him to just stop and be safe but he thinks marc might just. not get up from that really. can tell marc can’t be done before he turns 30 he won’t allow himself. and he does love marc but this IS a psychological torture chamber for vale in many respects. so he bites his tongue and traces marc’s scars and helps him with his PT and sees how much pain he’s in. and i think honestly it’s not a fun year in the household !

[alicewritingstories]

Whumptober 2024 Fills Part 4: Secret

AO3

Fandom: Linked Universe

Central character(s): Sky, Hyrule, Legend

No.9: OBSESSION | Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No.11: SEEING DOUBLE | Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No.13: TEAM AS A FAMILY | Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No.14: LEFT FOR DEAD | Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No.19: BLOOD TRAIL | Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No.23: FORCED CHOICE | Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No.24: RADIATION POISONING | Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure |  “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

Warnings: torture, imprisonment, hunger

---

Sky choked as another kick landed in the small of his back. His stomach twisted, but there was nothing left to throw up and all he could do was cough and gasp, reaching for some happy memory he could use to comfort himself and escape this experience.

"Oh, no, Chosen Hero," said the Shadow, kicking him again. "You don't get to pass out just yet."

Sky gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut. One of them, anyway. The other was already so swollen with bruises he couldn't have opened it if he'd wanted to.

"It makes sense, though." He heard footsteps walking round him and the Shadow's voice shifted to something like an echo of his own. "You always were a coward."

"If y'... wan' me… g'v… trif'rce… wrong way… go 'bout it." he panted out.

The Shadow snorted. "Do they know? Those two boys I captured you with?"

Sky didn't waste breath on asking what Hyrule and Legend were supposed to know.

"Do they know you're the reason for all their pain?" The incongruously-light footsteps paced around Sky in circles. "The sharp-tempered one… does he know you're why his beloved uncle died in his arms and he's spent his whole life on one quest after another? And your sweet little healer. Does he know you're why his world is, well, the way it is?"

The words sent a chill through Sky's body despite his pain and weakness.

"So much suffering," mused the Shadow, pausing by Sky's head and putting a booted foot on his right arm, just below the manacle on his wrist. "For so many people, but especially the ones you call your brothers. All because you were slow. All because you were a coward."

The words wormed into the wound in Sky's heart that had never fully healed, but he was determined not to show the Shadow that he'd found a weak point.

"I assume you'd like to keep your lie going and let them keep thinking you're a hero just like them." The Shadow leaned a little more weight on Sky's arm, grinding the bones together and finally wringing a whimper through gritted teeth. "Oh, good, I was starting to wonder if you were still conscious."

"Oh… 'm still… conscious." It was intended as a growl, but he knew it came out as more of a moan.

"Good." The Shadow eased up slightly on Sky's arm. "So. Do you want me to tell them the truth?"

Sky didn't, but he still didn't want to show that kind of weakness.

"Not even enough courage to say 'no' out loud, I see." The Shadow stepped off Sky's arm and started pacing around him. "Heroes. You talk so much about goodness and light. Who knew that you would find daylight just as violent as anyone else?" His voice took on the hiss of his lizalfos form even as he spoke.

Sky still didn't reply, trying to ignore the pain in his body and heart, trying not to let the words land.

A scaled hand grabbed the back of his neck to hold him down and he squirmed instinctively, his breath catching in his throat. The Shadow barely acknowledged his struggles except to tighten his grip slightly as with his other hand he released the chain between Sky's wrists from the catch holding it to the floor.

Sky yelped in pain as he was hauled to his feet, still by the back of his neck, and almost before he had found his feet the Shadow had taken hold of his wrists and was dragging him off down the corridor back to their cell, so fast it was all he could do not to trip and fall as he followed, especially as the pull on his arms sent fire chasing through his injured ribs. When they reached the door, the Shadow shoved him against the wall, one hand still holding his wrists high above his head, the other closing on his jaw.

"I want information from you. You want silence from me. I suggest you consider your options," the Shadow hissed in his ear.

Sky knew his options. And giving up the triforce and the other heroes wasn't one of them.

The Shadow unbolted the cell door and hurled Sky in. He cried out as he landed, pain once again shooting through his battered body, and couldn't even try to resist as his chained wrists were once again attached to a tether in a corner of the cell. He had barely gathered up the strength to move when the door slammed and the cell was plunged into darkness.

"Sky?" asked Hyrule's voice. "Are you there?"

Sky stirred, biting back a moan.

"How bad is it?" asked Legend quietly.

"Nothin' new broken," replied Sky. Plenty of new bruises and some lash marks, but nothing deeper. He coughed to clear his throat. "Not too… much blood lost. You two OK?"

"You worry about yourself for now," said Legend.

"You missed a meal," said Hyrule sadly. "We saved you some of our rations. Can you move enough to reach?"

They'd discovered early on that they could just about touch each other if they reached out and strained against the chains on their manacles. Sky didn't have the energy to do that right now. And in any case he really didn't feel right taking any of their meager rations of food and water.

"Finish it," he said. "I… I'll be OK." He coughed again, struggling to find the words he knew he needed to say.

"Sky," said Legend suspiciously, "What's wrong? What happened?"

"There's… something I need to tell you." There. At least he'd started.

There was silence for a moment.

"Sky, we're going to get out of this," said Hyrule at the same time as Legend said, "Save it to tell us after."

"No, I… I have to tell you now. I should have told you before." Sky sighed and winced at a searing pain through his ribs. "There's… a secret I've been keeping. The Shadow seems to know it. I… want to tell you before he does."

Silence. Sky used the time to take another long breath, as deep as he could through a tight throat and broken ribs.

"There's… a curse. On me. On all of us. And it's my fault." Another cough. "It's… I fought… you know I didn't fight Ganon. I fought the demon lord Demise."

Gradually, he told the whole story, bleeding words into the darkness. How he had been too late over and over again. How it had taken him too long to save Zelda and how she had suffered as a result. How when the battle was done and he stood over the defeated demon, he had been too slow once again. The words Demise had spoken, dooming him and Zelda and all their descendents and successors.

"I was too slow," he said bitterly, the words scraping in his dry, worn throat. He ignored the pain and difficulty. It was the least he deserved. "And that's why… that's why. There are thousands of years of blood on my hands, all through time, all across timelines… Everything Ganon has done to any of you or your lands or those you love… ultimately it's because I was too slow." Finally, the words choked off. "I… knew you'd hate me. So I didn't tell you. I… I'm so sorry…"

Then he waited, choking back more sobs, more alone than he'd ever been, for their reaction.

He wished he could see them.

He was glad he couldn't.

Hyrule spoke first. "Sky, drink something," he said softly. "Here." There was a soft scrape of a wooden cup across the stone as it was nudged towards Sky.

Sky stared in the direction the voice had come from. "Dri- What?"

"He's right," said Legend. "You sound awful."

"Didn't you hear anything I just said?" That was more than his throat could stand and he broke down coughing.

"Of course we did," snapped Legend. "Now drink something."

Sky reached out, wincing as he moved his bruised, stiff body, and managed to hook a finger over the edge of the cup and carefully draw it towards himself. The water was stale and dirty, but it was wet and soothing on his dry throat and that was all that mattered. He sipped carefully, not wanting to risk making himself sick.

"Right," said Legend shakily. "Now, you listen to me, Feather-brain. None of this is your fault. You didn't make Demise kidnap Sun and you didn't make him curse you. You did your best to fight to save yourself and your home and your family the same as any of us. It's not your fault you had to."

"It is my fault I failed."

"Stop insulting my brother," said Hyrule, his voice raw.

"I'm… not?" said Sky, confused. "Legend -"

"Not my brother Legend, my brother Sky," said Hyrule.

"We can talk about what happened and what it means," said Legend. "But right now, stop blaming yourself for everything that happened to us. Even if I thought you did it on purpose for some dumb reason, Goddesses know there's blame to share around."

"And you'd have to have done something way worse for us to hate you," added Hyrule.

"Right," said Legend.

Sky's breath caught again and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry. He couldn't lose too much water. "You… mean it?"

"Yes," they said together.

"Th-thank you."

"Now get some rest," said Legend, more gently now. "We're going to get out of here, but you need to keep your strength up."

"Eat first," said Hyrule, and Sky once again heard the scrape of something being slid across the stone. "It's going to be OK."

Sky grabbed the plate and nibbled the two small pieces of stale bread, still sniffing back his tears.

It's going to be OK.

He still had his family. And with that knowledge to sustain him, he could hope.

It's going to be OK.

[jasmines-library]

Lost and found.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 20. Prompt: “You will regret touching them.” Fandom: Batfam

Summary: After falling into a trap, you are captured by Scarecrow and exposed to his fear toxin. When your older brothers arrive to help you, your fear gets the better of you.

Warnings: Fear, disappointment, beating, hurt.

Word count: 2K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You hadn’t been living with Bruce that long. A few years. If that. You were the baby of the family, younger than Damian and in some ways you supposed he resented you for it; always narrowing his eyes at you when passing him the hallway. You often felt estranged from the rest of the boys, never fully understanding their inside jokes or nightly routines. You never felt as though you belonged despite the fact that the older boys had tried to make you feel welcome. 

The one person you had managed to connect with was Alfred. When your time wasn’t occupied by training or patrol it was often spent curled up in the study with a book and excitedly explaining it to him. Reading was one of your passions; it allowed you to escape the harsh realities of the cruel world and alfred was glad to hear you rant, it often resulted in him mirroring the smile on your face. 

It was a late autumn night when the call came in. You were lounging on the window seat watching the rain batter against the glass. Your brothers were out on patrol and you were the only one left home, so you floated over to the phone, answering it and bringing it to your ear. 

“Hello?”

There was static on the other end of the line, followed by a shuffling. And then came the voice of a child. “Please… please help me.”

You began to pull on your suit, listening closely to the girl speaking over the phone. 

“My friend she-”

“Calm down.” you told her. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

She rattled off her location through sobs. “Please hurry.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” You reassured her. 

Once you had calmed the girl, you slipped out of the exit of the batcave and began to race through town. It was a quiet night. The rain had pushed many people inside, so the lack of people on the streets really threw you off, but you decided to warn your brothers where you were going, just in case. 

“Nightwing?” You asked over the comms, hoping that he wasn’t too occupied to answer. 

“Raven?” He wrinkled his nose. “What are you doing out?”

“A call came in. A young girl said her friend was cornered by a group of armed criminals. I’ve got it handled, but I thought I'd give you a heads up.”

“Copy that Raven.” 

The line went silent again as you continued to push your way into the city until you reached the location that the scared girl gave you over the line. Only, there was no one in sight. You called out into the darkness but there was no reply. And then, there was a sharp prick to the side of your neck. 

~

When you awoke, your hands and hands were bound together by old rope that scratched at your skin. The floor was dank and dusty and your mask had been torn from your face. You could feel a small nic along your eyebrow, and your entire body ached. 

Without full use of your hands, you struggled to sit up when you noticed the figure leaning against the wall across the room. Tall and masked with a straw hat, he loomed over you, observing you from afar. You used your legs to inch yourself away from the humanoid figure, but he outpaced you, squatting down in front of you and trailing a gloved hand along your jaw.

“Hiya little birdie.”

“Get off of me.” You spat.

Scarecrow tutted, but removed his hand. “I’m glad to see you. You see, I've been watching you for some time. I’ve seen how miserable  you’ve been. And I've been waiting for a chance to get you alone. I have to say though, it was much easier than I anticipated.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The villain chided. “Mm, I have something more fun in mind. You see, I've been experimenting with something new. Well, new and improved. You see, my old fear toxin, it was good but you couldn’t really feel. If you know what I mean? So I did some experimenting and I've finally created something I've just been dying to test out. So I figured, why not have some fun while I'm at it?”

“They’re coming for me.” You told him with narrowed eyes. “And you’re gonna be a dead man?”

He tilted his head, resting his hand on the door before he stepped out and shut it completely. “Are they?”

He bolted the door shut, leaving you in the dimly lit room where a thick, green smog began to billow through the vents. You tried to back away from the smoke, but it surrounded you, cascading down all four walls. You took a deep breath, taking in all of the air you could, but it didn’t last long, eventually you couldn’t stand the burning in your lungs and you were forced to inhale the substance, choking as it filled your lungs. 

When the green began to fade away, vanishing into the air, you were left alone in the silence. Though it wasn’t long before the door was broken down by heavy pounding, and the masked face of your brother burst through the door. 

“Y/N”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Jason. Oh thank god, I thought you weren’t going to come. He told me that you none of you would and I-”

“Shut up.”

You stilled. “What?”

“I said shut up!” He kicked you hard to the ribs eliciting a yelp from you. 

“Jason…?”

“God, are you as stupid as you look? Shut it.” Jason kicked you harder, each one growing in intensity and followed by a snarky remark. You tucked your head to your chest, pressing your hands tightly to your ears until eventually, Jason vanished into a cloud of green and you were plunged back into emptiness. 

“Oh god… Y/N.”

It was Tim’s voice, shaky as he raced towards you. His hands gripped your arms as he forced them away from your ears. You half glanced up at him, doing a double take when you saw the look set upon his face. It was tender, but laced with worry. You wanted to reach out into his arms, but you were hesitant. 

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He bent down and removed the frayed rope from your wrists, you rubbed them. Tim then swung his arm around your shoulder to help you up, but you only made it a few steps towards the door when he flung you over his shoulder, sending you plummeting to the floor with a sickening crack as your skull collided with the ground. Your head throbbed as blood dripped from the crack that had opened in the back of your head. 

“Silly girl.” Tim laughed. “You really think we care enough to come and help you? After you were foolish enough to fall for his trap? You always mess things up Y/N. You’re a burden. Nothing more. Bruce’ll be glad to finally be rid of you.”

“Tim, Please-"

He reeled his fist back to land the final blow. You scrambled backwards, raising your arm above your face to protect yourself, but no pain came. And Time was gone. 

Fat, hot tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time that Damian entered the room. He narrowed his eyes at you like he normally did. They were so full of hate. You closed your eyes, biting down on your trembling lip and sinking against the wall. 

“Get up.” He demanded, voice thick with venom. 

You squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. 

“Damian… please don’t. I don’t need to hear how-”

“I hate you.”

It was only three words, but they cut right through you like a bullet. 

“I hate you.” He gritted out. “You ruined everything. We were fine without you. We were happy. And then you came along and you- you took all of that away. You’re a disappointment. And I hate you.”

Damian didn’t move to hurt you, but you supposed in some ways that's what hurt the most. Not the pain and the beating, no. That’s not what you were scared of. It was disappointing your family. You grimaced as Damian left, waiting for the cycle to start again.  

~~~ 

Damian didn’t think he had ever ran faster in his life. His boots slapped against the concrete as he raced alongside his older brothers. He had never been more scared than at the lack of your voice over the comms. The four of them had been trying you for hours but had had no such luck. That was until Alfred managed to snag your location on the computer. And so the four of them ran. 

Dick’s heart thundered against his ribs. He feared what Scarecrow had done to you. He had heard the stories; witnessed the horrors. But he couldn’t bear to fathom what your mind would conjure up. You had seen too much. 

When he pushed his way into the warehouse, it was dark. And silent. The four of them kept their eyes peeled for a sign of anything, but there was no sign of you or Scarecrow. That was until Damian spotted the frame of the door poking out from behind a metal cabinet. It took two of them to haul the heavy piece of furniture away. It squealed awfully as it scraped across the floor. When they pushed the door open they had to squint to see you hidden in the corner of the room. Your eyes were wide and you were hyperventilating at the sight of them.

“Y/N?”

“No, no…” You shook your head, trying to back further into the wall when he took a step towards you. 

Jason tried too, but it only worked you up more. 

“Not all of you…please. Please…”

Jason knelt down beside you, reaching to touch you gently, but you flinched away.

“It’s not going to work.” A voice laughed out from the doorway. 

The brother’s whipped round to face the scarecrow. 

“What have you done to her?” Tim spat. 

He chuckled deeply. “She’s been exposed to my new fear toxin. See, I don’t know what she’s  been seeing but whatever it is, you guys are clearly an important part of it.”

Tim gritted his teeth. “You are going to regret touching her.”

They surged forwards, pinning him towards the wall. He fought back, but was no match for the anger-fueled vigilantes. When he slumped to the ground, they were tasked with the even more challenging job of getting you out. But when they moved towards you, tears rolled fatly down your face as you sobbed. 

“Please…” You shook. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t hurt me please.”

Damian froze. “What?  

“You’ve done enough…please.” 

You flinched as the youngest of your brothers laid a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/N? It’s us. We’re real, I promise.”

You shook your head. “...no”

“We’re not gonna hurt you, kid.”

“You already have…”

Their hearts stopped simultaneously and Dick swallowed thickly. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Everything went black as his fist collided with your head.

~~~

You sat up abruptly. You were back in the safety of your own room, tucked away in your bed. Although you were more aware of what had happened, you couldn’t shake the fear that rolled over you. But you weren’t alone when you woke up. You were surrounded by a sea of familiar faces.

“Y/N?” Dick asked when he noticed your eyes were open.

“Yeah.” You murmured groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You just shrugged meekly.

“Oh y/n/n we were so worried.” Damian said. His tenderness was foreign. 

“What did you see?” Dick asked hesitantly. 

“All of you. Disappointed in me.”

“Oh kid.” Tim looked at you with sad eyes. “We would never be disappointed in you. We love you so, so much. And we couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“But I fell for his trap. I-”

“Uh Uh. You did what you thought was right. How were you supposed to know?”

Again, you just shrugged. 

“We’re proud of you, little wing. So proud.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 19 ⛤ DAY 21 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[layraket]

Day 23 - Forced Choice

Character(s): Warriors and Wind (LU)

Words: 1599

Summary: Warriors would do anything for his little brother, anything. At the end, he was the only real one.

Whump scale: 4 (see the full scale here)

Warnings: Injury, Major Character Death, slight manipulation

Part 1 in Day 2

-

Dark, everything was dark. Maybe because his eyes were closed.

Or maybe not, he didn’t know. When the light got to his eyes he had to close them instantly.

His body was trapped by a rope, his body leaning on a rock.

“Finally awake! Glad to see that my special guest did have good dreams.” A familiar voice, one that was painfully from his loved ones.

He wasn’t sure if they were really there anymore.

“Why so silent? I remember you being like this, but right now you should be screaming at me! Insulting me! Calling me the worst words in the hylian dialect!” The voices changed, making it look like a lot of people were in the place.

He knew that only one person was here.

“Stop using them as a costume.” His voice was raspy, that damn soup was horrendous.

“Oh! But they’re so fun~” The veteran’s face greeted him, his voice too similar to the one that he had heard for his whole journey. “I can’t believe that the Hero of Warriors is a fun-breaker, and I expected more from you”

His own face was now looking at him, the only differences being his hair, tunic and eyes.

Warriors didn’t answer to that comment, the Shadow didn’t deserve his words, even though he wanted to call him so many things.

“Mm… Let’s see, would you be more talkative if I give you some information?” The smirk went ear to ear.

That gained his attention, still, he knew this trick. He had been a victim of it a long time ago.

“Well… I can tell you a little about your brothers, your real brothers.”

“Speak, now.” Are they fine? Didn’t they get killed or something?

“Let’s see… We’ll go in chronological order, you won’t mind, would you?” The Shadow didn’t wait for an answer, walking around him, like if this was a fun game. “The bird one, yes he’s fine, mostly what you know is true. He’s at home, living his life with his dear goddesses-reincarnated girlfriend or whatever.”

Sky, he was fine. At least that’s something.

“The tiny one, he had chores to do at home, so no adventure from him.” Something flashed from its eyes “Although, the little rat decided to just left one with all the work, and he claimed that he finally learned how to work in group, what a liar.”

That, was interesting. He knew that there was something weird with the smithy, but, huh, he must have had reasons to not mention the fact that he had other siblings.

“We’re gonna omit one, because he’s special.” Before Warriors could ask who, the Shadow kept talking “Our dear veteran, ahh yes, he’s living with that merchant from a mirror kingdom, I think they have something going on, I never understood.”

Ravio? He suspected something, but he was glad that Legend was happy, maybe even getting finally a break.

“Now, the guy that followed that pink rabbit like a lost puppy” Even if he didn’t want to admit it, that description was fitting in some way “At least he’s alive.”

So little information? That was… Not good.

“The rancher, a good man, depressed but honestly he doesn’t even seem to care” If Warriors gets to see him again, he needs to talk with him about that. “And the wild child, that guy has still work to do, but he’s still whole… For now.”

“What do you mean by-“

“ANYWAY!” That was rude. “Finally, the one that you might be wondering how is his life going.”

Depending of what comes out of that fake mouth, he will commit murder.

“He has a wife” Warriors’ mouth was shut before he could ask “They’re happy, he has a ranch and I think he was about to give you a nephew, or niece, I’m not sure.”

So. His little brother. The little Mask was going to be a father. If it wasn’t for the situation, he would be so proud.

“Yeah, that’s all the information I got for you.”

Now was his turn to ask the questions “They got completely safe home? Nothing happened to them during the way?”

That made the Shadow giggle, like if the captain was just telling a stupid joke.

“They never were there with you.” Its face changed to an unsettling one, a smile that easily would put nervous to even the roughest of the generals. “All this time, you were with illusions, puppets if you want a clearer description.”

Maybe his face was doing a funny expression, maybe it was just because the Shadow, that damn being, enjoyed how his world collapsed.

“Yeah, sorry, I had to. I needed some unfinished business to be addressed.” It walked away, going to a part of the cave—was this place a cave? It was so dark— like if on search for something. “It is funny, that you didn’t notice an empty space.”

What was it referring to–

Wind.

“Where is he?!” It didn’t mention anything about him, how was he, how was his life going, where is he, nothing.

“You see, I needed to give a last favor to my dear master” He grabbed what looked like a dagger, the shape being difficult to make out in the dark “After all, you killed her.”

It clicked, of course these damn copies of him that Cia made were a sentient being, of fucking course.

“You took the one that I lived for, the one that I cared the most” Its voice sounded less like the joking one that he was using and more like one full of hatred, full of a toxic grief. “So, in exchange, I must offer you a deal.”

Warriors didn’t ask, didn’t said any word, it wasn’t necessary. Wind was tied up, with cuts and some bruises on his arms.

“This rascal was a pain for my plan. The little fucker infiltrated into my perfect illusion before I could take his place” Wind seemed like he was going to bite its fingers off, maybe that’s why he had a rope in his mouth. “When I was about to put his replacement in the way, he appeared like out of fucking nowhere and decided to include himself into the group of clowns. If I did a wrong move, any error,” At this point it was acting too dramatic, it makes sense that Cia created it “everything that I planed so carefully since that dark day would shatter into pieces.”

“Funny how a kid can do that, are you sure this plan was perfect?” Warriors wanted to fuck with it a little, it talked enough already, it was his turn.

A silent giggled came from the sailor, obviously for once taking the ‘being a kid’ card as a very powerful weapon to make fun of the Shadow.

“Ah-ha, yes very funny, let’s see if you stay laughing.” He grabbed Wind’s shoulder, making him move to be in front of Warriors, now they were face to face.

“This is my deal;” It made spin the dagger in his fingers, a smirk on his face that didn’t gave the captain any good feeling “You let me take an important thing from you, like that you will compensate what you took from me.”

“And what is the trick?” He knew it wasn’t this simple, it was impossible that the Shadow would ask for his favorite rock or something like that.

“Simple! I need you to choose which of these important things you will give to me. You have two very easy options:” It pointed his dagger towards Wind “The pirate’s heart, or…” The dagger was now pointing to his direction “Your life.”

Wind seemed like he wanted to protest, to give his opinion, that made him gain a kick from the Shadow.

“Choose, O Hero of Hyrule” The voice of Legend was the one used to say that.

The mother fucker.

Somehow, the sailor managed to free himself from the rope in his mouth “Captain don’t you fucking dare to–“

“Take my life. Let him be free.” He looked directly in the eyes to the Shadow, red ones and his own face looking back.

Wind was saying something, that wasn’t important right now.

“You can’t be serious! What in Farore’s damned tits are you thinking?! You can’t just choose to fucking die! You–“ Warriors kicked him without too much force in the arm where his hand was, making him shut up.

“Alright, now that our beloved seagull chick was silent, we can proceed!” The Shadow moved to stay in front of the captain, leaving Wind out of his sight.

“Just… One small request, yeah?” He looked again to the Shadow “Tell Cia that I say hi”

Before it could ask, its chest was impaled. Wind, having one of the hidden daggers in Wars’ boots, pressed it in where the heart must be.

The captain always had a plan, he wasn’t going to die so easil–

Something went through his throat, the taste of iron now sickly present in his mouth. He looked up and red eyes, full of hatred and an emotion that he couldn’t recognize, meet his.

“Now we are even.”

Wind’s scream was the last thing he heard; his vision was now filled with black spots.

When he finds her, he will ask Hylia to send him back to his island. That’s the last thing he wants to ask her. At least, his brothers, even if he didn’t really meet them, are okay.

Sorry Twilight, hope someone else talks with you about that thing about pretending to be fine, you idiot.