#No. 23

[one-piece-aus]

Hi there! I’m glad you’re still doing Whumptober, so I’m here again to get my annual dose. (hope you’re doing good too!)

May I ask for Day 23 & Trafalgar Law? I’ll leave it up to you if you’d prefer to write it yandere or not. Thanks in advance and may you have a lot of fun with this year’s prompts! 💙🌹

Of course! My apologies for the delay Michelle, and I do hope you enjoy the story ^-^

Whumptober Day 23

Yandere Trafalgar Law x Reader

"Father's a fool if he thinks I'm going to marry," you mutter under your breath as you tread carefully through the woods. Holding up the lantern, your path can be seen even in the dark of the night. "Hopefully I can get far enough so they can't find me when they notice I'm missing in the morning."

"So who can't find you?"

"AH!" You jump, startled by the male voice. You wave your lantern, trying to find the source. "Who's there?"

Blast, here you were fleeing through the woods in the middle of the night, escaping the arranged marriage your family set up for you, and someone already discovered you. Dread weighed your thoughts of being dragged back home. Frustration clenched your jaw.

"Show yourself!" If you were going to be taken back, you'd at least like to know who to resent.

"I'm right here, [Y/n]-ya." The male's voice purrs right in your ear.

You flinch, turning around and raising the lantern, highlighting the ravenet man. Silver and gold eyes shine as they peer down at you. Stepping back to properly gander at the tall man, you notice the strange circular golden earrings and the carefully trimmed & small beard (goatee).

"Wait... you're the doctor by the outskirts of the town."

"Dr. Trafalgar." He bowed in greeting. "Though I've been your family's doctor for a long time now, you may call me Law."

"Law... right," you said averting your eyes and moving the lantern away from your face so he doesn't see the blush forming around your cheeks. Oh, how you wish your heart didn't flutter so much when looking at his face.

"What are you doing out here at night?"

"I- I was just about to ask you the same," you said, unsure if he was here because of your family.

"Me? I'm just out here collecting a few herbs. A few... patients of mine have gotten sick. I need to cure them from everything."

"O-oh... I see." You wanted to question further, like 'Why would he collect herbs at night?'  Alas, you held in your tongue in hopes he would do the same. "I'm- I'm running away. I need to get far enough or else it's gonna get me by the end of the night."

Law hummed in a tone that sounded pleased, perhaps your ears are playing tricks on you. He places a hand on your shoulder, smiling down at you. "If you need a place to stay, [Y/n]-ya, I have a place suited to your needs."

"...You won't tell my family will you?"

"Not to worry, [Y/n]-ya. It'll be doctor-patient confidentiality."

And just like that, you're in his arms, thanking him. He places the herbs he collected into his bag and begins escorting you away to his place. You're not aware the herbs he was collecting were nightshade, unaware of the plague doctor mask he has at his hip, and unaware you made his job of taking you all too easy.

His darling won't have to worry about being found, by tomorrow, there will be no one looking for his darling.

Tags: @bookandyarndragon

[lostwhump]

@whumptober | Day #23: ALTPROMPT "No-Holds-Barred Beatdown" Quarry - Nuoc Chay Da Mon (1.08)

[serickswrites]

Sunrise

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, self sacrifice, blood, wounds, threat of death, mcd, public display, betrayal

"Team Leader," Teammate One said softly. Team Leader had been slumped over in their chains for hours. The bloody, ragged wounds on Team Leader's back had clotted, but Team Leader hadn't stirred. "Team Leader," Teammate One repeated.

Team Leader groaned as they shifted. "Yes, Teammate One," Team Leader replied quietly as they blinked their eyes open. They didn't sit up, the wounds on their back far too painful for that.

"How are you feeling?" Teammate Two asked. They asked the question the entire team of ten had been wondering for the last couple of hours.

Whumper had conquered the region so swiftly and thoroughly. Had attacked and was merciless. And now ruled with an iron fist of cruelty. The team could not abide the atrocities committed by Whumper and their minions. Could not abide the oppression. And so they rose up in opposition.

Whumper had caught all eleven of them several days ago. They had been trying to take down Whumper for months and when they finally had their opening, the team took it. Whumper, however, was far more prepared than they had thought. The information they had been fed about Whumper had been a lie, and worst of all, Whumper knew too much about them. Teammate Three had been feeding Whumper information about the team, and their plan, for months.

All so Whumper could catch Team Leader and make an example of them. "You're the leader of the resistance," Whumper said as they paced in front of the kneeling Team Leader. The whole team had been restrained and forced to kneel, but Team Leader had been dragged to the front. "I'm going to make an example of you for your team."

"No matter what you do to me, Whumper, they will know what you are," Team Leader said as they thrust their chin out.

Whumper backhanded Team Leader. Team Leader listed sideways, but didn't fall over completely. "We will see how true that is. What's more, I am going to ensure your end is painful. Bloody. You will be dead by sunrise, Team Leader. I'm going to place your corpse on display so that all the world will know what happens if you defy me. Then, then your pathetic little resistance will end. And I will rule forever."

"As long as someone longs for freedom, the resistance will never end. You will be stopped, Whumper. I might not live to see it, but someone will. And when you are stopped, there will be hell to pay."

"Don't do this, Team Leader," Teammate Four hissed behind Team Leader. They cried out as a guard punched the back of their head.

Whumper stared down their nose at Team Leader. "Tell you what, if you bend knee publicly. If you renounce the resistance and support my rule, I won't torture you to death. I won't hurt a single member of your team. I'll free them all. You'll remain with me, of course, to ensure the public knows how much you and I are a team, and to keep your team from trying to continue this pitiful rebellion. Join me, Team Leader, and this all ends."

Team Leader spat on Whumper's face. "I will resist you with everything I have. I will resist you until my dying breath."

Whumper wiped the spit from their cheek. "So be it, Team Leader. Just remember, I gave you a chance."

That had been hours ago. The sun had been high when the team was dragged to Whumper's dungeon. What little light trickled in from the barred windows at the top of the walls was gone. It was dark and Whumper had been torturing Team Leader for hours. They had left to "refresh" themself before resuming the torture.

"I've.....I've definitely felt better," Team Leader said as they took a shaky breath. "It's not the worst I've experienced."

"Don't do this, Team Leader. Don't let them keep hurting you," Teammate One said as their eyes filled with tears.

"I'm doing this for you," Team Leader said wearily. The long hours of torture and blood loss were taking a toll.

"Team Leader, Whumper is going to kill you. They're going to kill you and display your body. Just agree to their terms. Please, Team Leader," Teammate Two begged.

Team Leader shook their head and hissed with pain, eyes screwing shut tightly. They took a steadying breath and opened their eyes. "I'm doing this for you. I'm doing this for all of you. I'm doing this for those who are still out there who long for freedom. I won't let Whumper win."

"But Whumper has won!" Teammate Four said incredulously. "They beat us. All of us."

"No, they haven't, Teammate Four. That's why they need me to bend knee. They can't quell the rebellion without it. They're going to use scare tactics. But they haven't won at all."

"Team Leader, you are being tortured. To death. Let Whumper hurt us for a bit. We're strong enough." Teammate One needed to convince Team Leader to take a break. They couldn't stand watching Team Leader be tortured. They were sure the rest of the team couldn't stand it either.

"I won't let whumper hurt you. Any of you. Just....just be sure to not give up hope. The night is always darkest before the dawn."

"Team Leader," Teammate Two said as tears streamed down their cheeks, "you'll be dead by dawn."

Team Leader's eyes flashed brightly. "That may be, but the cause won't be. I'm willing to lay my life down if it means whumper can be stopped."

The team would have spent more time trying to convince Team Leader to surrender, but Whumper returned. "Changed your mind? All of this can stop if you just say yes."

"Go to hell," Team Leader replied.

"That won't happen for a long while yet, Team Leader. You'll be there soon though. Unless you say yes."

"I'd rather die a thousand deaths than serve you." Team Leader glared at Whumper. Though their face was pale and sweaty, their anger was strong. Their rage was a fire burning beneath the exhaustion and it would not go out.

"So be it, Team Leader. So be it." Whumper said as they nodded to their minions. "I did try to warn you."

Team Leader cried out with pain as they were dragged and pinned on their back, their wounds grating against the ground. "This is going to be fun breaking your spirit. I wonder how long it will be before your body gives out after I break your spirit."

"Hurt me!" Teammate Four begged. "Hurt me, please, Whumper!"

Whumper gave a wicked smile. "What do you think, Team Leader? Should I give you a longer break and test my blades out on Teammate Four?"

"Your issue is with me, Whumper," Team Leader growled. "Take it up with me. Not my team."

"Your wish is my command," Whumper said as they selected a particularly vicious looking blade.

Teammate One lost track of time as they watched Whumper torture Team Leader. Lost track of everything. Listening to Team Leader's hisses of pain, their cries and screams, was all that Teammate One was aware of. They couldn't stand it. But the more and more the team begged Whumper to hurt them instead of Team Leader, the more and more Whumper hurt Team Leader.

It was only as light crested through the windows at the top of the dungeon that Team Leader realized how much time had passed. Sunrise. They had made it to sunrise. And still, Whumper did not relent.

***

It was still early as the team was hauled into the town's square. The air was still chill and crisp though the sun had risen enough to chase away all the shadows of the night before. They were shackled to one another, some shivering in the chill air. Others shivered with something else. All of them were bruised and tearful. They had failed. Whumper had won. They had all failed.

They were led up to a stage. "Leave them down there," Whumper said as they marched up the steps. "Chain them to the base so all can see them still."

Teammate One offered no resistance as their arm was chained to the base. They didn't care. They had failed. Whumper had won. They bowed their head in shame as the town square began to fill with people. The entire team averted their gaze. None of them wanted to see the next part.

Teammate One couldn't hear anything over the ringing in their ears as the cart that had been behind all of them was pulled forward. Couldn't see anything over the blood staining the wood. Couldn't feel anything as their body went numb. And they couldn't breathe as they watched two minions drag Team Leader up the steps to the stage.

Team Leader's body hung limply between the minions, their chin lolling to their chest. Their still bound wrists were in front, jostling with each step. The slowly forming crowd gawked at the display as the leader of the resistance was dragged up onto the stage.

"Put them there," Whumper ordered dryly.

Team Leader was dragged away from view, though Teammate One's imagination supplied what they knew was happening. They knew that the minions dragged Team Leader to the pole in the center of the stage. They heard them drop Team Leader's body. They could almost see Team Leader lay in the heap, their blood staining the wood panels of the stage. They could hear the chains being attached to the pole and Team Leader hoisted up. They could see the horror on the faces in the crowd. And they heard the gasps as Team Leader was completely revealed.

Team Leader had bled out not long before the sun had completely risen, though Teammate One wasn't certain if it was the blood loss or the final wound that killed Team Leader. Their body was littered with with cuts and wounds, knife hilts jutting out from their sides and thighs. If it weren't for the knife buried in Team Leader's chest, Teammate One would have Team Leader was asleep, their features lax and eyes closed. But they knew better.

"Take note," Whumper said as they ripped the knife from Team Leader's chest, "my citizens, of what will happen if you fight me. Take note," Whumper stabbed Team Leader in the stomach and pulled the knife out again, "my citizens, of what is in store if you do not accept my rule. The rebellion is dead. It has died with Team Leader here." Whumper pinched Team Leader's cheek and shook Team Leader's head for emphasis. "Resistance is futile. Bow down and you may yet live and have a good life."

The team, though I hadn't stopped sobbing since Whumper had stabbed Team Leader one last time, sobbed harder as they watched everyone they had worked to save bend knee. Everyone that Team Leader had faith in. Everyone that was now swearing allegiance to Whumper. The rebellion was, indeed, dead.

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

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

@artisticdemon

[katyawriteswhump]

omega found, omega lost 5.1

Title: Omega found, Omega lost; Chapter: 5.1/6; WC: 2356; Rating: E; Tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, angst, hurt/comfort.

Chapter 1 on tumblr Chapter 2 on tumblr Chapter 3 on tumblr Chapter 4 on tumblr On AO3

For whumptober prompts day 23, I'm doing this for you; day 21, let the bedsheets soak up my tears, no. 25, it's for your own good; no. 29, fatigue, no. 30, hospital bed/holding back tear, no. 31 asking for help, and alt prompt, motion sickness.

Chapter 5.1: I'm doing this for you

A few hours earlier

“Don’t tell mom, okay?”

Steve’s dad pulsed his hand, and Steve was too weak to return it. His brain was fogged, and the weight of his bones pinned him to the mattress. After his father scuttled off, his news gradually seeped beneath Steve’s clammy skin and into his aching head.

It was all right.

For starters, he’d learned that Eddie hadn’t ditched him. He’d allowed Hopper to take Steve to ER, because he’d had no choice. Now his dad was going to find Eddie, which was pretty much the first time his dad had gone behind the back of his Alpha wife. As far as Steve knew, that is. Hopper was in on it, too.

Somewhere, deep beneath layers of grinding misery, hope kindled.

In less than an hour, he was sitting up in bed IV-drip free—chewing on a granola bar, then bouncing the wrapper off the ceiling. Dustin dropped by in visiting hour, apologising profusely for going off grid. Apparently, it was because Wheeler had kept on yelling hoax ‘code reds’ whenever he got fangs deep into a coding marathon with Suzie. And yeah, they made a half-joking pact to kick Wheelers’ butt, ASAP.

When Dustin left, Steve considered the epic task of getting out of bed. He wanted to call around to see if his dad had any news, or if any of their friends had heard from Eddie. Dustin had promised to get the whole gang on the case. Annoyingly, though, the pup’s visit had drained Steve, and his eyelids grew heavy as his bones.

He sensed his mom draw close a few minutes later. He had already hunkered down beneath the blankets and now he pretended to sleep.

He listened to her latest conversation with the doctors, hardly daring to breathe. Maybe she knew he was awake and didn’t care? It’s not like his opinion had ever been worth shit to her, even before he presented as Omega.

As they left, he swore he heard her softly growl: “Steven. I’m doing this for you.”

He remained motionless save breaths reduced to shallow quivers in the back of his dry throat. When her stinky perfume had retreated far enough, he sat up, leaning heavily on his palms, and tried to quell his trembling. Then he pushed the side bars down, swung his legs over and slid out of the bed.

The room swayed and swerved like he was on a ship, and his knees felt like water. He grabbed the bars to steady himself, while the pain in his heavily bandaged ankle gathered pace. Hot tears pressed in the back of his eyes, his throat. Shit, he wouldn’t cry now.

He fucking refused it.

He had to get better. He had to tough this out like… like a goddamn Omega. If he didn’t haul ass out of here today, his mother was going to send him back to that clinic. Oh yeah, she’d be all, “It’s for your own good, darling,” like last time.

He’d be treated as a piece of meat.

If her path crossed with Eddie, then Eddie would be dead meat.

Okay, his dad said he’d be back soon, but waiting was now unbearable. Besides, Eddie had smelled him from over a mile off. Steve was sure he’d pick up his Alpha’s scent trail, no sweat. He should be leading the search, not languishing here. On top of everything else, he was desperate to pee, and equally desperate to find a mirror and sort out his hair, so…

Okay, baby steps.

Or, rather, heavily limping steps. If he could make it to the washrooms and back, maybe there was hope of getting out of this dump.

He plucked a comb from his bedstand. Slowly, he made for the door, dragging his bad foot, then hopping unsteadily. The smallest pressure on his injury set his ankle screeching, as if his stitches had split. He struggled on, little keening noises escaping him. A nurse intercepted him at the door and offered his assistance—which Steve refused—and then a crutch.

Steve begrudgingly accepted that, and it helped. He made it to the washroom, cringed at himself in the mirror, then sorted himself out best he could.

On exiting, he allowed himself a small fist-pump. As he stared down the corridor, though, his shoulders collapsed, and his chin drooped. The few yards back to his room stretched out like miles. He took a moment, wedged between the crutch and the wall, his panted breaths so thick they drowned out the ceaseless buzz of the lights.

You can do this. Do it for Eddie. Do it for the Alpha you’ve been brushing off for months, who you couldn’t stop thinking about… and now who you literally can’t live without.

After all, according to his Dad, one of the doctors literally prescribed Eddie.

“Hello, Omega.”

Steve yelped. His crutch toppled sideways, even as a pair of arms slithered around him from behind.

“Oh yeah, you’re ripe and juicy!” drawled a familiar voice. “My pups will eat his pups outta you from the inside, and then…”

Snap!

Steve whirled around on reflex and nipped Tommy Hagen, who staggered back, rubbing the flesh between his shoulder and neck.

“I was kidding, okay? God, since when did you bite, dude…Hey, you look like shit.”

“Back at ya!” Also, rude! He’d managed to salvage his hair quite well, in the circumstances. Steve slithered down the wall toward his haunches. Tommy grabbed Steve’s elbow, then grabbed his crutch, slid it back under Steve’s arm and helped him stand. Tommy had paled beneath his freckles, and actually looked mildly guilty.  “What are you even doing here?” demanded Steve.

“Came to visit you. Retard move, clearly.”

“Yeah, right. I know what you came for. Gloat away then.” Tommy shrugged, still faintly cowed. Steve rode his tide of fury and went in for the kill: “Listen, Tommy. You are gonna go grab me some clothes from somewhere, and I’m gonna get discharged. Then we are gonna drive all night, if that’s what it takes, till I pick up Eddie’s scent.”

“Munson? Jesus, Harrington—you really are out of your pretty little head. Word is, he kidnapped you and filled you up with his trailer-park pups. It’s just so you to fall for a criminal.”

“Don’t be dumb. Eddie’s a hero—he saved my life.” Plus, this Beta had no idea about an Alpha-Omega bond, let alone a soulmate one. “Listen. I’m absolutely not pregnant, but my mom’s gonna drag me off to some specialist Omega clinic where they’ll lock me away and run tests, and…” Steve paused, fretting his lip ragged.

He didn’t have the time or the mental strength to handle the juggernaut of emotions barrelling through him. But he knew that threat wasn’t why he’d dragged himself from his bed, to Hell with the pain and the stupidity of it all.

It was Eddie. Eddie was in danger, and Steve needed to protect his Alpha. How screwball was that?

“Look, I can’t wait around while my dad messes this up. I need to find Eddie myself. Now.”

“You really do suck at being a good little Omega. Shouldn’t you be all—” Tommy flung the back of one hand to his brow “—woe is me! Let the bedsheet’s soak up my tears!”

“Screw you, Hagen. My secondary gender doesn’t define me, okay?”

“Says the pampered Omega pining for the dime-store Alpha who fucked his tiny peabrain out his ears.” Tommy looked smug again. So, default Tommy. Then his eyes slitted and he turned all sly: “What if I want to claim your mom’s reward for the freakshow’s head?”

“I’d rip your throat out myself.” Steve’s upper lip twitched, displaying his little canine teeth—a weary token gesture. His latest shot of adrenaline was basically spent.

Tommy ‘pfffd,’ though deep in those rolling eyes, something softened. Or maybe it was Steve’s wishful thinking.  His exhaustion getting the better of him, Steve’s knees sagged.  Tommy whacked out a hand to steady him, and Steve glared with everything he’d got left:

“Look, if you’ve ever actually been my friend, now is the time to make good on it.” Okay, he wasn’t sure that would wash. “I’ll pay you. Fuck, you can have my damn car.”

Jesus, did he mean that?

Whatever.

Steve would scratch Tommy’s eyes out later, once he’d gotten what he needed.

Half an hour later, Steve huddled in the passenger seat of Tommy’s car, ratcheting his stiff, cold limbs into a foetal position. His stomach lurched at the smallest bumps in the roadway, sending bile burning up his windpipe and into his throat. When Tommy breaked or sped up, the g-force drag through his guts set him whimpering.

He’d not felt this crappy on a journey since he was a kid.

On top of all that shit, Tommy’s endless whining drilled right into his aching head: “I’m running out of empty houses here. Christ, I don’t get how you know he’s in a basement. Let alone the point of pulling up outside and not even searching the joint.”

“If he was in there, I’d know it,” husked Steve, his throat wrecked by the acid. “Keep going.”

“Jesus, all right. I’ll try the old Hess farmhouse. But if you puke, I am dumping you out in the nearest ditch.”

Everything after that had been a fevered blur. By the time they reached the farmhouse, Steve was flopped on his back in the seat, arms and legs splayed, breathing so hard of Eddie’s scent he was pretty much hyperventilating.

Tommy wrinkled his nose at him. “Are you seriously leaking slick all over my car? Man, I know I’m getting yours but—”

“Your car can eat shit,” moaned Steve, his insides an unbearably empty ache. “You can eat shit! He isn’t here, Tommy. He isn’t here.”

“How do you know, shit for brains? I mean, this place is pretty much sending you into heat, and I’d bet on Carol’s Alpha dick that it’s got a creepy-ass basement. Just like you saw in your seriously fucked up wet dream.”

“He was here. I’m sure of it… but he’s gone. He’s gone.” Steve sobbed openly, too far gone to even care. “God, what if my mom…. What if she found him? Oh God, Tommy… it hurts. I can’t… I… it hurts so much. I can’t face the future… Any future without him.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Tommy slammed his palms up: “I didn’t sign up for this shit. I’m taking you back the hospital.”

A flash of wild grief ripped through Steve, igniting a fresh round of cramps in his guts. He eked tight words from his clenched teeth: “I swear to God, I’ll d-die on you before you reach the hospital, then m-my mom will hunt you down and swing you from a tree by your intestines.” He’d heard of it done, long ago in Viking packs or something.

“Where the fuck else can I get rid of you?”

 “D-drive to Wayne Munson’s trailer. Do it. Now.”

It was the last coherent idea Steve had. He’d cranked himself back into a ball, wishing for anything, even death, to bring this horror show to an end. At length, he’d gleaned a fresh whiff of Eddie’s scent.

The car door opened. A kind face emerged out of the gloom. Tommy and Wayne helped him out of the car and hauled him up the steps into the trailer.

“I’d sling him straight in Eddie’s bed,” Tommy grumbled. “Unless you wanna be scrubbing slick off your couch for the rest of the year.”

To be fair, Steve felt too wretched to be as slick as Tommy made out. On sinking into Eddie’s shallow mattress, though, he no longer felt so sick, though butterflies rustled in his stomach. Wayne brought in extra blankets and cushions to form a little nest around him, muttering, “There ya go, son. You’re gonna be okay now.”

Wayne got him to sip some water from a plastic bottle and gave off slightly stressy vibes that defied his soothing words. Still, Steve’s butterflies settled, and after he’d drank enough to satisfy Wayne, he settled too. Wayne tucked Steve in with a comforter so infused with Eddie’s scent that a faint chirrup escaped him.

The little room around him, floor and walls, was cluttered with stuff. Cassette-tapes, LPs, clothes, stickers, guitars and bones, and skulls—pictures of those, at any rate. Eddie’s stuff. Steve loved it.

Even without him, this nest proved more healing than any hospital bed. Steve cuddled a pillow to him, pressing it to his aching loins, and drifted away.

...

Chapter 5.2 on tumblr

(it's gonna be fine, okay!?!) Second half of this chapter will be up soon!

Please like and reblog if you’re feeling kind 🥰 it’s so very much appreciated ❤️

tags: @wheneverfeasible @mugloversonly @ellietheasexylibrarian

@strawberryyyenthusiast @stripey82

If anybody else fancies reading more, I would be happy to tag :) Or follow #katya's omega whump

My endless outpourings of Steve whump can be found on AO3 here :)

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Whumptober 2024 No. 23- Forced Choice | Public Display | "I'm Doing This for You"

This is my first whumptober post with OCs! You'll recognize Lucien from my yandere snippets. This is a bit of his backstory~

You can find Lucien's page here

Lucien fought the urge to stiffen as his collar was adjusted about his neck. Erythros had insisted on bringing him the party, and when the ancient vampire insisted on something, no one dared refuse him.

“You seem tense, Lucien,” Erythros said with a gentleness that served more as a warning than for comfort.

“I am nervous, Master,” Lucien replied slowly.

Erythros picked up a comb and began tending to Lucien’s long, jet-black hair. It took all of his will not to shudder.

“I’m doing this for you, you know,” Erythros said, “you keep to yourself far too much. It’s high time you got out more.”

More like it’s time for you to show me off again for your own ego, Lucien thought.

Erythros tied Lucien’s hair back, running long, bony fingers through it.

“Hm,” he mused, “would you prefer a red vest or a gold one? Either will match your eyes.”

That was true, Lucien’s left eye was an unnatural gold, the other a deep carmine. He missed the days when both of his eyes were blue, and his ears were rounded, and his teeth normal, and-

“Well?”

“Um, red will be fine, thank you, Master.”

“And your brooch?”

Lucien looked down at the vanity. It did not have a mirror since such things served no purpose here. On the vanity were a variety of brooches.

“Whichever you think is best,” Lucien said.

Erythros hummed, holding up different ones to his thrall’s neck. He settled for a simple ruby encrusted, gold brooch. He fixed it to Lucien’s shirt collar.

“There now,” he said, “you look appropriately presentable.”

“Thank you.”

“There will be humans there for refreshment. I expect you to feed at least once.”

“Yes, Master.”

Erythros seemed satisfied for the moment.

“I’ll let you know when the carriage gets here,” he said.

Erythros left the room, his long, white hair swishing behind him, and his great red wings brushing on the ground. The door closed, and Lucien breathed a sigh of relief.

I love how of all the choices he gives me, there’s never a choice to refuse, He thought bitterly.

Lucien would never express his frustration out loud. He had learned long ago that vampires had incredibly enhanced hearing, and he had learned it the hard way. He couldn’t wait until he could go back to his mansion across the lake, where no one could order him about but so much, and where he felt relatively safe… as much as he could anyway.

“Lucien!” Erythros called, “time to go!”

Lucien straightened up, his black bat wings fluttering nervously. Another night paraded around like some kind of pet or trinket.

“Lucien!”

Lucien descended the staircase and met Erythros at the castle entrance.

“Not in your head again, were you?” Erythros asked.

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“Hopefully tonight you’ll be present,” he continued, “there’s no need for that much idle thought.”

“Yes, Master. I am sorry.”

Erythros sighed.

“One day you’ll learn.”

Lucien followed Erythros into the carriage, and off they went into the night.

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[hywenhei]

time for another alt prompt day!!!

ALT PROMPTS: Shivering | Venom | Forgotten

A stoic Whumpee that suffers through their torture quietly, no reactions to be found, breaking down once they're finally alone. Only once Whumper leaves them to rot in their cell does Whumpee allow themself to let go of their pent-up emotions, shaking hard with the force of their sobs. They always make sure to compose themself before Whumper comes back, of course; they cannot let the mask slip for them.

"Whumpee, you need to rest. You've got severe bruising, a broken wrist and your legs are shivering so much that I think you're about to- woah!"

Whumpee goes out with their friends to the park for a while, to try and clear their head. As Whumpee is walking, they feel a sharp prick in the crook of their arm and swat away a wasp, who manages to sting them twice more before leaving. The sting venom does, well, sting a little bit, but it's nothing that Whumpee can't handle. It's only once Whumpee faints of a lack of oxygen do their friends realise they've forgotten something critical: Whumpee is allergic to wasps.

Whumpee manages to slip out of their bonds, unbeknownst to Whumper, and plans an attack to finally escape them, once and for all. The second Whumper enters the torture chamber, Whumpee takes a blunt weapon and bludgeons them from the back of the head, then tries to escape the base. The only problem is, the halls of Whumper's base are all too similar, and Whumpee easily gets lost walking in circles. Whumper, miraculously, manages to find their way back to Whumpee, and as Whumpee readies themself for a fight, Whumper says:

"I'm sorry, I don't know where I am and I really need some help right now. Do you know where exactly we are?" "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

me when i don't like the whumptober prompts and choose to do the alt prompts instead (i literally have free will): Ó⁠╭⁠╮⁠Ò

anyways, see you tomorrow for day 24!!

[yonbwekh]

Whumptober day 23

Prompt: forced choice

>> inspired by this post from @whumpletters

"Come on Whumpee, it's quite simple. I let Caretaker go and you come back to me, or you refuse and I take Caretaker through everything I did to you." Whumper gives a sickly sweet smile, placing a hand on a bound and gagged Caretaker's shoulder.

Whumpee can't think, only able to look on in horror. They don't want to go through it again... They can't! But Caretaker shouldn't have to go through it either..

They fall to their knees, shaking. "I-i-ill g-go.." Whumpee mutters defeatedly. A wicked smile spreads across Whumper's face. "What was that? Speak up."

"I said I'll go! Now let Caretaker go! ...Please.." Whumpee feels a rough hand behind them grab the collar of their shirt, startling them so much they don't even react as Whumper and Caretaker are whisked out of view round a corner.

[brucewaynehater101]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPT #23

Forced choice, public display, broken pedestal, "I'm doing this for you"

Tw: blood, bruises, brief mentions of death/dying

Cw: Not Alfred friendly

[hero-of-the-wolf]

Chapter Summary: Wind finds more than he expected to while gathering supplies with Warriors

[musewrangler]

He stretched his arm out protectively in front of Myra, refusing to flinch in the face of eleven blasters pointed his way.

“I think we can agree we don’t want anyone to do something idiotic,” said the officer with cold objectivity. “If you have any weapons on your person, now is the time to tell us.”

His blaster was inside, in a drawer near the front window.

“We’re not armed,” Max growled hoarsely, and two troopers stepped forward to search him and Myra. Once this was complete, binders were produced and snapped around his wrists.

“What did they promise you to find us?” Veers snapped. “It was you wasn’t it? This location would be impossible for anyone else to discover, you back stabbing bastard .”

He hurt in ways he had not thought possible. That this man, of all men, should betray them…

“I do know you well,” Piett agreed in that flat, neutral voice. His ‘Imperial’ voice as Veers had always thought of it. “And as my loyalty to the Empire was in question, thanks to my association with you, I whole heartedly agreed.”

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Whumptober Day 23 + 24

23: (Alt) Survivor's Guilt

24: RADIATION POISONING | Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.”

Whumptober Prompts List | Masterpost

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 200

Tag List: @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion @scaewolf

@the-ellia-west

CW: injury, guilt, death, concussion, arguing, swearing

A/N: an exercise in writing only dialogue between characters

----------

“Whumpee? Whumpee!”

“Caretaker? I….”

“I got you, help is on the way. Are you hurt? Besides the… your leg?”

“My head….”

“Okay. You might have a concussion, but I need you to stay with me. Where's Teammate?”

“I… they… they were….”

“Oh no….”

“I couldn't… couldn't get to them… I hesitated… I was scared… what am I gonna tell their sibling?”

“Hey, look at me. It's not your fault.”

“But….”

“No. You couldn't have known the building was unstable, none of us did. Teammate knew the risks, we all know the risks.”

“I lived and they didn't! If anyone deserved to die it was me, not them!”

“Stop saying that! You know it isn't true.”

“What do you know?! You with your optimism and your naive blindness to everyone's faults. You don't know anything about what I do and do not deserve. And how can you act like Teammate didn't just die?”

“...I'm focusing on the people I have who are alive. We can mourn later, when everyone is safe. That's not fair and you know it.”

“Life isn't fair, dammit! If it were, I would be the one buried under all that rubble.”

“...”

“...”

“Shut your damn mouth before I gag you.”

[perpetuallylatetothefandomparty]

Summary: The mission would’ve been a success- if Voltron hadn’t showed up.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Time for Us to Leave Her

Sigh Not So | Secrets Hid Away | Shed Tears Aplenty | Fire Down Below | Rolling Down | Won't You Go My Way? | The Seas No More | The Nightingale's Song | Bones in the Ocean | For She Was Afraid | Time for Us to Leave Her |

CW: Magic whump, a kind of mind control, siren whump, reluctant whumper, creepy whumper, just like hoo boy Gilly what the fuck

-

Long after the rest of the house had fallen asleep, Atabei lay awake. 

Moonlight moved slowly across the floor as she listened to her love's deep, even breathing beside her. Eliza lay on her side, face just a few inches away, and Atabei let her eyes wander over the soft curves of her cheeks and chin, the way her hair was in disarray all around her, moon-touched to give it a silver gleam, her mouth still slightly reddened from how well Bei had kissed her. 

There was something to the quality of moonlight that shone through the window, something strong and almost… purposeful. As if the moon itself was laying a gentle hand on Eliza’s cheek. Most nights, Atabei might simply be struck all over again by her wife’s beauty, but tonight…

Tonight, the strength of the moonlight was not beautiful. It was unsettling, as if it were the villain of some penny dreadful whispering, bathe her and bring her to me. 

In the bedroom next door, Sirene had been sleeping since the clock struck eight or shortly after. Atabei had read her a story about mermaids and gently fielded her questions about the strange not-a-man who had greeted her. 

Atabei knew the siren had not meant any harm - or at least she thought he hadn't - but still. It couldn’t be risked. Sirens did count human sailors amongst their favorite meals, and many a ship had gone down with all hands due to a siren’s song. A child might simply be irresistibly delicious to such a creature. 

Plus… after a year spent under Guilford’s clearly violent thumb, and as bruised and battered as he seemed to be… Atabei wouldn’t have found it surprising if the siren hated mankind enough to kill a little girl simply for being human at all, no matter how kind his greeting had been. Hell, if the girl in question hadn’t been Eliza’s own daughter, she might have understood the impulse and not really blamed him for it. 

Guilford and his creature could not stay here long. She would suggest the Hotel Dominique, close by the water in the heart of Yawnee City. If he and the siren were gone, she would sleep more easily, or at least feel able to sleep at all. 

She should have agreed with Eliza. 

Eliza had insisted the siren be put in the barn, worried it would sneak around at night. Guilford had demanded just as insistently to keep it in his own room, just down the hall. Atabei wanted it nowhere near their beloved horses and equally wanted nothing to do with the idea of such a thing only ten or fifteen feet away.

They had compromised by utilizing the old hunting-trophy room that Eliza’s late husband had been so fond of, down on the first floor and towards the other end of the house. It was the room he had died in, coughing up blood to the bitter end as Atabei and Eliza waited for her spell to finish its slow devouring of his lungs, each of them sipping from teacups and chatting gaily about the weather, pretending they didn’t know what was happening on the other side of the wall.

The trophy room was filled with the mounted heads of more than a dozen beasts the awful man had killed himself during his travels. He had boasted about them, as if he had done anything of importance and not simply shot innocent animals for sport. He didn’t even eat them.

Eliza had had the room cleaned of her husband's blood, held his wake there, and then locked the door and never opened it again. 

Atabei had stayed still while she listened to the slight, soft sounds Guilford made while preparing for sleep, and then the gentle creak when finally he climbed into the guest bed. These old homes were solid and strong, but sound traveled too well. 

Still, though, she did not sleep. 

The wind blew through the trees outside, winding its way through the attic with a gentle sound like a deep flute, notes without song. For a while, she let it lull her into a place somewhere between wakefulness and dozing, her mind finally going quiet.

Then the sound of the wind changed, seeming more and more like a voice singing a wordless but achingly slow and sad melody to accompaniment of the flute. The two songs wound around each other, harmonizing effortlessly, nature and the man made of seawater and moonlight, angelic and yet monstrous. 

Her breathing slowed.

Atabei blinked, lazily, and shifted up onto her elbows, her eyes moving without purpose over the moonbeams that lit her wife’s face, the bed, the heavy soft rug on the floor. 

The song dug deep into her mind, winding around each and every thought and turning them to its own commands. 

Stand up. 

She hummed acquiescence and slipped out of bed, straightening the soft silk bonnet she had her hair tucked into to protect her many braids from breaking, slipping on a sleeveless, long brocade housecoat over her nightgown, pulling it tight around her waist and tying the sash. She drew a simple fire spell to light a candle and carried it into the hallway, standing still with her head tilted.

“What next?” She whispered, her lips barely moving. 

Somewhere within her, a shriller sound rose, shrieking a warning, but it could not overpower her curiosity about the source of the song. 

Come to me. 

She knew where on the stairs to step to avoid the creaking in the old wood, how to keep to the shadows in case one of the servants might still be awake.

She met no one, and the closer she came to the song the quieter her thoughts became. Shadows seemed to cling to her as if trying to pull her back. She drifted in and out of moonlight, the song growing soft and then loud, like waves beating in constant time upon the shore. Unnoticed, a door opened behind her and she was followed down the stairs and across the house. 

Come to me. 

She stopped before the trophy room, with its locked, barred door. The song came from within and she stood, for just a moment, feeling as if her very lungs now moved in time with the song. It was a song of such aching perfection and loneliness that she felt tears prick at her eyes and run down over her cheeks. She blinked rapidly, reaching one hand out to lay it against the wood of the door. 

Open the door and come to me. 

The key to the room hung on a nail just outside the door and it scraped going into the lock. She was already unlocking the door before she realized she had picked it up. The discordance jolted her and she paused, hand on the doorknob, and hitched in a breath.

The melody broke apart over her head instead of sinking into her, the notes stumbling slightly, and she understood what was happening all at once. "No," She whispered, a cold wash of sheer terror down her spine.

She turned to run back up the stairs, grab Guilford, Eliza, and Sirene and run from the sound, from the song, to find somewhere too far for its music to follow them.

"Guilford," Her voice was a cry. "The siren-!"

"I know."

She gasped and froze.

Guilford stood only a few feet away.

"It’s all right, Beibei,” He said, in the same voice you might use to soothe a skittish horse. "It's quite all right."

She let out a little cry of surprise and backed up, her back hitting the door with a thump that briefly stole her breath. The key dropped to the ground with a gentle clink. 

The moon shone from behind, putting most of Guilford in shadow. His eyes, though, and the shimmer of his glasses seemed overbright and glittering, were lit as if from within him. She couldn’t seem to look away. 

He wore the same gentle smile as the little boy who had been her first friend, before either of them could even talk or walk. A face she had known all her life.

A man who had become, in only a year, an utter stranger. A face she did not know at all.

Her fingers seemed suddenly nerveless. She didn’t even notice the candle rolling on the floor now, its magicked flame winking in and out. 

"... Guilford, what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry,” Guilford said, smiling shamefaced. “I really am.” He sounded so achingly sincere. His own eyes were wet with tears. "But I can’t leave any loose ends, you see. I can't risk it. You could undo all my hard work, so... so I can't take the chance. You're coming with me."

Atabei's vision blurred as the song began again behind her. She heard the sound of the door handle turning, the soft click as it swung open. "Guilford." Her voice was a plea, fighting against the soft cotton that threatened to overtake her thoughts once more. "Gilly, please. Just ask."

"I don't think you'd agree to this," Guilford said, his voice low. “It’s awful, what I need to do, but it’s what I need to do.” 

"We are happy here." She took a step forward, voice cracking in desperation and new fear, and Guilford reached out and took her hand. He looked like a man announcing a death, so full of sympathy and love for her. "We have a good life, Guilford, Eliza and I, we have the best life either of us dreamed of, with each other-” Her voice was hitching, catching on sobs she could not let free. "We have love-"

The siren was just behind her. She could feel the warmth of him, and yet he never touched her. He only sang, pitched low, a melancholy melody that wrapped around her like ropes, that bound her as firmly as being locked in a cage. 

"Keep your love, Beibei. Keep her. I will give you a better life," Guilford replied, earnestly. As if this all was simply a regretful necessity. "When I have Eliza's money. I will give you everything. You'll come up in the world right alongside me, Beibei. We're going to be so rich."

"... Eliza's money? How, how will you-" Then she understood.

Her heart stopped.

She looked at Guilford with wide eyes and did not see her friend at all in the open avarice that stared back. "No," She said, fighting for calm. "You wouldn't. You won't."

"Yes." His voice was gentle. "I will. Don't worry, she will be happy, happier than you can imagine now, and still with you! I will never do more than hold her hand, Beibei, but I want her money and I want you with me forever. We are going to visit my mother together. Myself, my best friend, and my newlywed wife.”

"Did you... did you come here just to do this? Is that why you came to visit-"

"Of course it is, Bei. Why else?"

"No. Absolutely not.” Atabei's hands moved to draw a magical symbol, to protect herself, but the siren's tenor swelled - nearly deafening just behind her - and she stilled halfway through the symbol. The magic collapsed uncast. 

Go wake Eliza. You have such wonderful news to share.

The song was so beautiful, she thought, as she turned and walked evenly away, each step carefully placed. Eliza must hear it at once, and hear of Guilford's plan, must know all about it.  

Guilford followed behind her.

As he should, of course - they had to break the happy news to Eliza that her second husband would be much better than her first. 

-

The siren followed his captor and the woman who had allowed him to be captured up the stairs, but while they kept walking, Areyto paused just outside another room whose door was cracked open. 

He looked inside, and saw the little girl from before, shifting restlessly as the siren could not stop singing, not now, not until the deed was done. Her eyes opened in the way of the young, who must swim up out of sleep as if from a deep, dark pool. He watched her realize there was a song, and her eyes widen… before she exhaled, and the song sunk into her. She sat still, waiting for commands.

His captor, the siren thought, could not ever be trusted with children. The young were too easy to do harm to, and his captor enjoyed causing harm. Areyto, who felt no pity for the other humans who had forced him into this position and who had rejected him with such disgust, felt himself soften at the idea of the little girl having to face the captor’s anger like he did.

His eyes went back to the other door, knowing his captor and the two women were inside, talking over something that would have been a horror twenty minutes ago but was now their dreams come true, and then he… changed some things, only for the little girl. 

Another thing that his master had not forbidden him, another way he could work around the edges of this awful imprisonment in his own skin. Small, slim, mean little triumphs that meant everything when they were the only triumphs he had.

He made his voice gentle, but resolate, within the child's mind.

Sirene, run. There is a man here who will kill you if he sees you. You must run and run and run and never come back here. Run far, to the city. Find a family and tell them there was a fire and you were the only one to make it out, but all you remember is your first name. Leave this behind, and remember it only in dreams. 

Remember that there is a siren caged by this man who did not want the same for you. 

The little girl sat up in bed with wide, terrified eyes. For one single second, she and the siren looked directly at each other. She was too young to understand, and yet something in her small round face seemed determined and resolute. She grabbed her favorite doll and inched her way off the bed before she ran, her feet pattering rapidly down the stairs as she fled for the door.

She was already weeping, before she made it outside.

Areyto felt a pain in his chest, at the sight of it, but this was better than what could come of letting his captor have power over something small and helpless. 

Run, the siren urged. Run as fast as you can. Don't look back. 

Guilford reappeared at the bedroom door. "Did you hear something? Did the front door just open?"

Areyto swallowed around the painful bruising of his throat, turning back to meet the wicked man’s eyes with his own flat and emotionless. "The child, master.”

“What about her?”

Areyto inhaled. "I told her to jump into the pond," He said, lying like oil, smooth and slick, utterly believable. "She will drown. There will be no one to steal your money after the wedding."

Guilford nodded, mollified by the mention of riches and utterly uncaring of the suggestion that the siren had sent the girl to a terrifying death in the water. He glanced back over his shoulder at the two women, who now looked at him with adoration, and winced. It wasn't guilt, the siren thought. The man seemed incapable of feeling it. But... maybe something like irritation at the inconvenience. "Make them forget her, then. Atabei and this Eliza. Make them forget the child. I don't want them to be sad, or to grieve. I can give them that, at least. Call it a wedding gift.”

"Yes, master," The siren said. He wondered what mother would think it a gift to be forced to forget their own young, but maybe humans were all cruel to children in some way. He moved obediently into the bedroom, to sing forgetting into the minds of the women, in the hopes that he could save the little girl from a life that might be too close to his own. 

In his most secret thoughts he hoped that Sirene, the child whose name echoed his own being, would find some other life to live. A better life, perhaps one without a big house but also without his captor. He could do that single mercy for the child who had said hello to him, a child named after his people. 

After a lifetime of feeding on human lives, it was strange to make the choice to save one. 

-

Tag list: @grizzlie70  @burtlederp  @finder-of-rings  @theelvishcowgirl  @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump  @bloodinkandashes  @squishablesunbeam  @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood

@whumptober 2023, prompt 23: Shadows

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 23 - Shadows

Warnings: action based violence

Word Count: 1k (gif not mine)

Summary: the taking of the avengers tower

A/N: I’m not so good at writing action so another short one before we open up into slightly longer ones (🤞)

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

2014

NEW YORK

The glow of the streets means that there’s enough light pollution for the infiltration team to surround the building.

The drone is sent up and a small electro magnetic pulse is sent halfway up.

Immediately the lights go out.

It’s a go signal.

The second EMP goes off and half the team enters, the other half patrolling.

Having no idea where the Avengers team are hiding the scepter, the team looks to scout all levels and all floors. The most obvious being the laboratories, the sub-basement or the workshops.

Night vision googles on, gas masks situated; the team scout the entrance, letting off two smoke bombs and then gas through the air ducts.

They become shadows, moving in the darkness, through the smoke, expecting resistance and finding none.

They scout the first hall, the call coming through that there’s nothing on the first floor.

Moving down, the sub-basement holds more promise.

Lined with inert Iron Man suits, the men move forward, torches making the suits feel like they’re watching.

They move quickly, pumping more gas through the vents.

They know Captain America is likely to either be immune or work through the sedative quickly.

The others, they rely on their human constitutions to make sure they don’t wake up.

Sub level one gets cleared, no scepter.

Sub level two is blocked. Behind a vaulted door, one man steps forward and attaches a portable electronic device.

The scrambler for the door lights the room, numbers start running and they all stand and wait.

“Fifteen minutes,” the man identifies, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his Hydra tattoo.

Three continue to guard him, whilst the other four move away, heading up the tower through the fire escape.

Floor three and four produce no results and the gym and kitchen seem redundant to even explore.

Finally they reach the laboratories and find them shut down.

The EMP whilst effective, also seemed to have set off fail safes.

They move up, the personal floors. Finding them just as impenetrable, the men continue to the workshop, finding it just as locked.

Having accounted for this, they place small charges on each of the doors of the laboratory, it takes a moment before the charges blow; allowing entrance.

Ten minutes before the sub-basement is unlocked.

The laboratory is large, and it takes them time before they clear it.

Half finished projects litter the benches.

The sceptre is nowhere to be found.

The likelihood that it’s anywhere but the sub-basement but still, they continue.

The charges are placed and blow through the wall this time, the doors to the workshop too heavy and large to work through.

The wall collapses easily, pushing debris out, moving the contents of the workshop not held down into the opposite wall.

Focusing, they look through the debris finding nothing; spare parts for electronics, some half built iron man suits, other parts that they have no context for.

No scepter.

It seems the only place left are the private levels and the sub-basement; now unlocked and ready to be searched.

The team heads back down, to meet the others now waiting.

“Sir.”

The defection to the tallest member is obvious who the leader is.

He enters confidently.

He hears the plate click, swears at the likelihood that he’s just stood on a improvised explosive device, he signals for the team to spread and move out and away, but there’s no time.

He says a prayer and feels the end come.

.

Jarvis detects movement around the tower, organised in its nature.

Immediately, he locks down the personnel floors, sub-basement, laboratories and workshops. He arms them where he can and places safeguards around the floors with people in them.

The movement halts, drones fly near, and then, he feels himself being shut down.

No electricity, he has nothing to draw from.

In dying moments, before the electricity is removed, he sends an urgent message to the Iron Man hud display, with the footage of the team and warnings he could muster.

.

Sam snores, oblivious to the goings on outside, his door locking shut, and the bed still made as he sleeps beside it.

It had felt like a night that anything could happen and he’d opted for the floor, wanting a harder surface underneath himself.

He wakes to the building shuddering, breath laboured as he covers his mouth.

The air is wrong and he doesn’t know why.

The dizziness that accompanies it feels strange and he moves slowly to the corner, before realizing everything is so dark.

“Something is wrong,” he mutters to himself, before pushing into a standing position and finding the space enclosed.

.

Tony wakes breathing in heavily the toxicity in his tower. Glancing at Pepper, he finds her still asleep. He tucks her in and sits up.

Something is wrong, he thinks, before succumbing to the sedative pumping through the vents.

Unaware of the boom underneath, the drugs encompassing his floor before the remnants drift up to the others.

.

Steve sees all the lights of the tower turn off, his own room becoming dark as he looks out the window and sees shadows moving in the world, highlighted by the light pollution of the city.

Just like the rolling blackouts of his youth, he finds it strange that it’s only the Tower that’s gone dark.

“Jarvis?” he calls out, to no response.

Anxiety curls; he pushes at his door to find it locked.

Steve hears another beat and the whole tower shuts down.

The silence is deafening.

No way to tell the time, no way of contacting others. Steve feels panic for his friends and the tower as he contemplates what to do.

.

Maria sleeps, and dreams of dark things.

When the tower shakes, she feels like she’s crawling through mud to get to the surface.

She feels it’s a dream, so real in her thoughts that the worry permeates through.

.

Bruce dreams.

He dreams of the Hulk trying to wake him a growl and beating of his chest, but it’s all still a dream.

He’s not in any danger, he’s with the others, he says subconsciously.

Don’t worry.

They’ll protect us.

The Hulk growls again, awakening at the sound of explosions, ripping Bruce from his sleep as his subconscious becomes him.

.

[firstdegreefangirl]

Knock Knock!

“Knock knock.” Jack toddles over and whacks his tiny fist against Tim’s shin.

“Who’s there?” He sighs and reaches down to intercept his little hand. “Don’t hit, that’s not nice.”

“Knock knock!” He uses his free hand to pound on the couch cushion.

“Who’s there?”

“Knock knock!”

Tim pantomimes opening a door. “Who’s there?”

“Knock knock!” Jack waves his hand in the air. It takes every ounce of self-control for Tim not to roll his eyes at the 2-year-old.

“Oh look, it’s Jack!” He tries a new approach, hoping it’ll break the cycle.

“Knock knock, Unca Tim!”

“Yes, Jack, who’s there?”

Read the rest on ao3 here!