#death wish ?

[sowhatifiliveinfukuoka]

Charles Bronson

🎥 Death Wish (1974)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you're desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

Adrenaline buzzes in your ears and sears through your veins. You shouldn’t be here. Yet this place is no more treacherous than your home. Thing’s can’t get much worse so you may as well try to make them better. 

Or maybe you’re so desperate for it to end, that you don’t care how. 

You stand before the two men in their dark suits. They mutter as if you can’t hear them, “Warren’s girl.” 

“One of them,” the other intones. 

“Boss said not to bother.” 

You sway, your hands twined up behind your back. You expect to be turned away but you’re not ready for it. You chew the tip of your tongue. 

“I can wait,” you say. 

The don’t acknowledge you. They turn to block you out with their shoulders and lower their voices. One glances over his shoulder at you, Walker? Or something. 

“Your daddy send you?” He asks. 

You shake your head. You should probably lie but you’re no good at that. The throbbing in your swollen lip assures you of that. 

“So why should we let you in to see the boss? You out here at midnight looking like a tramp,” he challenges as he faces you again. 

“Hey, she looks like she’s had it bad enough. Don’t be a dick,” the other man reproaches. “Look, sweetheart,” he steps forward. “Man’s busy. With important business. Whatever you’re looking for, ask your daddy.” 

You could sob. Your father has no idea you’re there. If he did... if he knew why... 

Your shoulders slump and you hang your head in defeat. Why did you think this would work? It’s a fantasy. That same escapist wish you make every night when you cry yourself to sleep. 

You close your eyes and see Adrienne’s teary-eyes and Kitty’s helpless expression. You can’t let your sisters down. You can’t stand to see them suffer any longer. You can take it all, but it’s seeing him raise his hand to them that guts you. 

“I need to see him,” you raise your head. “I can wait.” 

You say you can but if your father realises you’re gone, if he finds out where you’ve gone, or even manages to guess why... 

Walker sighs. He elbows the other man. “Go tell him so can come back and tell her to scram on his orders.” 

The other man returns a dark look but goes inside. You hug yourself and shiver in the night air. You have only your quarter-zip sweater and a pair of silky pajama pants. You’re not surprised the men can barely keep from laughing at you. 

You wait. It takes longer than you expect. If anything, you would think they would only pretend to tell the boss. That’s what they all do. They lie. They ignore you. They just don’t care. So why are you here? Why would this go any other way? 

Before you can wave the white flag, the door opens. 

“In,” the man holds the door as he steps out.  

You flinch and Walker sneers at his partner in confusion. You’re just as surprised. The other man huffs. 

“Well, he said you got five minutes, so get.” 

You waver on your feet then scurry forward. You step inside the dark brick building, another man waiting just inside. He’s silent as he points you down the hall. He directs you with the terse gestures; upstairs, to the left, around another corner.  

You stop before a door with another duo standing vigil by the door posts. The left one knocks, tilts his head to listen, the opens it. You’re pointed inside.  

Your nerves flurry and wrap you up in a billowing storm. What are you doing? That question doesn’t matter. It’s too late. 

You drag your feet inside. The door slams at your back. The room is dim, lit only by a lamp with a glass shade on the large desk across from you. Behind that, sit a man. The man. Bucky Barnes. The boss. The king. 

He sits with his elbow bent over the armrest of his chair. He watches you calmly. You stand in silence by the door. He beckons you closer with two fingers. 

“Can’t see you back there, doll.” He says. 

You hold your breath and come forward. You gulp as you stop within a foot of the carved desk. Your eyes scour the vintage print of the wallpaper and the wooden paneling. This place is steeped in history. 

He raises his hand, cradling his face as he brings to fingers to his lips. He watches you patiently. Waiting. You stare back at him. You’ve never seen him this close. You don’t even know if your father has. 

“Why are you here?” He asks at last. 

Your eyes narrow on the gold sheen on his pinky. It’s the only safe place to look. You feel like you’ll melt in the blaze of his oceanic irises. You exhale. 

“I need someone dead.” 

He doesn’t answer. Your words dangle in the air as he mulls them. You purse your lips and wince at the pain in the split along the swollen flesh. 

“A man. The one who did that to you?” He sits up straight and points at you. You follow the glint of his ring. You nod. “Low life. Let me guess, daddy doesn’t know you been sneaking around.” 

You shake your head, “he doesn’t know I’m here. Or that I’m asking.” You take another breath as your eyes water. You bring your hand up to your cheek as it pulses. Your father’s knuckles left a nasty welt. “Because it’s him. He’s the one who did this. And I want him dead.” 

He scoffs, more amused than disbelieving. 

“Warren’s a soldier of mine. You're asking me to off him?” 

“I’m begging,” you finally make yourself look him in the eye. His is formidable man. Dark hair, dark beard, a touch of grey here and there. Even at this hour, he wears a nice suit and sits with authority. “Please, my sisters--” 

“And how are you and your sisters going to make up for his cut. He brings in money. What can you give me?” 

“You can take everything. We just want to be free,” you say. 

He clucks, “what he has now is nothing compared to a lifetime of what he can get.” 

You lower your lashes. That’s it. At least he didn’t laugh because you almost did when you said it out loud. Your father isn’t going to die. He’s so rancid, even death doesn’t want him. He’s not human, he’s a curse. And this man you’re asking for mercy, he’s the same kind. 

“Sorry for the bother,” you eke out. “I was mistaken.” 

“So you were,” he agrees. “Go home. Put some ice on it.” 

It’s like another punch in the face. You nod, “thank you, sir.” 

“You can go,” he dismisses. 

“Yes, sir.” You put your head down and drag your foot back. 

“Ah,” he tuts. 

Your eyes flick up. He extends his hand across the desk. Right. He is still who he is. You step closer as he holds his hand steady. You bow down and kiss the sigil on his ring. An outdated and demeaning gesture. 

Before you can stand straight, his large hand frames your chin. He pushes your head up as your eyes round. You stare at him as his gaze drifts down to your neck. The bruises by the zipper of your sweater tingle. 

“You were never here,” he lets you go. 

“Understood,” you retreat, “sorry again for wasting your time.” 

[sad-leon]

warm up doodle

the boys are from @remedyturtles's Death Wish because i will forever be so normal about them

[oresti-s]

“Death Wish”, Josh Alex Baker.

[cosmicwhoreo]

platformers are my nemesis to the point it's borderline masochism to me, trying to even get through the first, bloomin' level. And it's probably straight up masochism for anybody with how painful it is trying to watch me play. So Death wishes for me... Are a hassle, to put it lightly. It's a miracle I even got that far in to unlock them. but the game is fun.

extra doodlez under the cut!

golly gee i wundurr hoo me favorite character iz-

[anim-ttrpgs]

"Death Wish," investigator Trait from Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy. Investigators have 3 to 6 Traits.

[maniccherrygirl]

[kat-theglitch]

Having feelings abt being 17 now. Literally Death Wish was at the lowest of my life and I thank @remedyturtles for that it's a wonderful fic <333

[pinkpuppy7]

i have been brainrotting.

"little kid with a big death wish" by remrose on AO3 is amazing and has taken over my brain and if you like turtles and peepaw y'all should absolutely go read it. 153k words of hurt/comfort and complete, as of recently.

(this scene is from chapter 22)

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim x Catharsis - Kane & Luan

K&J chronological masterlist / K&J writing order masterlist

Catharsis masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, escape, begging, starvation, caretaking, dubious caretaker, whumpee turned caretaker, death wish, suicide attempt, recapture, torture, gore, burns, rescue, brief self-harm for vampire feeding purposes, side robot whumpee

Whumpmas in July Day 15: A Soft Reprieve

the first time i've ever done a crossover between two different series of mine! this one's been living in my brain rent-free. massive props to @sowhumpshaped for inspiration!

-

Luan’s heart practically stopped when he looked through the doorbell camera to find a vampire.

The camera  wouldn’t matter if it was a vampire. The door wouldn’t matter if it was a vampire. He would be taken, again, this time manhandled from his own apartment. The fact that he couldn’t sleep all night was the only reason he had this last moment of freedom.

“Stay back,” he said through the speaker, trying not to let his voice shake like his hands as he clumsily looked up the number for the local hunters. There was no way they’d get here in time, not even with their base just down the road. Not with a vampire’s speed.

“Please,” the vampire whimpered, kneeling on his doormat. “Please help me, I beg of you. I’m not a threat, I promise, please don’t call the hunters, I’ll do anything!”

Now that Luan really looked, he could see beyond the bright-red of his eyes and the intimidating fangs: the figure at his door was… not well. Clearly emaciated, a feeling Luan knew all too well. He could see what looked like burns, and what were definitely cuts. Tears tracked from terrified, desperate eyes.

“What do you want?” Luan snapped, thumb hovering over the dial button.

“Please, please, sir, I can’t find anything to end myself, the sun is coming, they’re going to find me, please, mercy, I can’t go back, please help me!” the vampire begged, weeping into his hands. “I can’t use persuasion, I promise, I wouldn’t even if I could!”

It was objectively stupid. It was going to get him killed or worse. If Luan opened this door, that would be the end of it. The vampire would take one look at him, use persuasion, and his freedom would be gone again, just like that.

There was no faking the way his stomach turned inward like that, worse than Luan had ever been. If Luan had ever starved that badly, he suspected he would have died.

Would there be any point to a vampire going to these lengths just to trick him, when he could have just used persuasion from the first moment?

“One minute. Stay there.” He dashed to find something, ending up with a ruler he hasn’t dug out in years. Sawing at it with a kitchen knife made something resembling a stake, though he knew in his heart that it likely wasn’t strong enough to get through flesh. He just had to hope it would be intimidating enough.

Luan hesitated. Was he really going to do this? Let a starving vampire into his home?

He looked through the camera again, at the pitiful man collapsed on his porch.

He opened the door, makeshift stake in hand. “Get inside.”

The vampire scrambled in, crouching like a cornered animal on his floor, panting hard. “Th-thank you, sir. Thank you so much. Please don’t call them, please, I just–”

“You can stay the daytime and that’s it.” It wouldn’t be the first time Luan had stayed awake a full 24 hours. He could do it again. “At sunset, you leave, and you don’t come back. You never take a human. Agreed?” He pointed the stake at the vampire with both hands. “Try anything and it’s the stake.”

What Luan wasn’t expecting was for the vampire to look up at him with utter adoration. “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! I’ll be good, I promise, thank you so much! You can kill me if you’d like, I don’t mind, I won’t resist. Whatever you want.”

Luan slowly lowered the stake. “That’s… probably not necessary.” A look around the room. The sun would start rising in a few minutes, he had to act fast if he was really offering this vampire refuge. “Go wait in the bathroom,” he pointed, “There’s no windows in there.”

“Yes, sir!” The vampire started to run, but tumbled over himself, collapsing to the floor. Before Luan could react, he picked himself up to his hands and knees, crawling quickly to the bathroom and closing the door.

“Jesus,” Luan muttered. The blinds were already closed, always closed, but he knew some light could trickle in through the gaps.

What to do next? He knew what he wanted next when he was rescued. To feel safe, to feel free, to feel in control, to know Cyrus couldn’t hurt him anymore. Food, water, blankets, a fucking warm shower. Home.

What had even happened to the vampire to make him like this?

In the end, he gathered up some sweats and sneakers he wouldn’t miss–he wasn’t going to make the vampire run home half-naked and barefoot when sunset came–and a blanket, then knocked on the door, stake stowed in his pocket. “Hey.”

“Yes?” the vampire called back.

Luan opened the door, finding the vampire huddled in the bathtub. “Brought you some stuff. You can use the bath and whatever too if you want, you know.”

The vampire’s eyes widened as Luan set the bundle down on the edge of the sink. “Thank you, sir! That’s so kind of you! Thank you so much!”

“Mm-hm.” It felt good to be the one in control. Safe, somehow, even with a vampire.

He wanted to ask what happened to him, but he hated when people asked for details. Those fucking true crime junkies. If the vampire wanted to talk, he would talk.

“I’m Luan,” he offered. “You?”

“M-my name is Kane. No one’s asked me that in a very long time.” The vampire stared at him like some kind of divine being.

“Alright, Kane. Glad this isn’t going to shit immediately. I’ll be… out there. Knock if you need anything, I guess.”

“Yes, sir!”

With that, Luan let him be. The vampire did not return, staying locked in there well after his shower ended. As the hours ticked by, he couldn’t keep his mind off the vampire in the bathroom. How could he?

Food. He was probably hungry. Starving, if his appearance was anything to go by. Luan knew that feeling, the never-satisfied clawing in his gut.

He pinched at his skin. He had blood to go around, didn’t he? Just once.

Luan knocked at the door. “Kane? You doing okay in there?”

“Yes, sir,” came the vampire’s muffled voice, “Do you need something?”

“You need something,” Luan corrected. “I’m gonna feed you some blood. Open up.”

The door opened fast, Kane’s wide, red eyes greeting him. “You would give me blood?” he asked in a hushed whisper, the blanket still wrapped around him.

“Yeah. Here.” Luan held out his arm. That’s where they did blood draws at the doctor’s, right? “I know you’re hungry. Go ahead.”

Kane burst into a huge, fanged grin. “Thank you, sir!” He took Luan’s arm gingerly, with a gentleness he wouldn’t have expected from a monster of the night. Deciding on the wrist, he bit in slowly, carefully at first.

As soon as he broke the skin, all that gentleness disappeared.

The vampire bit in hard, making Luan wince at the pain of it. But he’d expected pain. It was a goddamn vampire bite, of course it was gonna hurt. He grit his teeth and bore it. He’d had worse.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he announced as he started to feel woozy. “I get you’re hungry, I wanna help, but I’m not a buffet.”

Kane paid him no mind, continuing to gulp down mouthfuls of blood, eyes wild.

Luan’s heart began to race, either from the depleting blood or the sudden terror or both. Suddenly, he wasn’t in control anymore, and that meant the vampire could do anything to him. It wasn’t like with the robot, who had to follow his orders. This was a vampire. What was he in comparison to that? He was powerless. He was–

No. Not again. He would not be that helpless thing again.

Luan hit the vampire as hard as he could, bringing his fist down on the back of his head. “I said stop!”

Kane reeled back, his bloody fangs tearing from skin, the blow jerking him back to reality. Landing clumsily on the floor, he looked up in horror as he realized what he had just done.

“I’m sorry!” he cried. “I’m s-so sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to, I swear, I was just so hungry I couldn’t control myself, I’m sorry!”

His eyes grew watery, his breaths quick and panicked. Kane backed away on the floor, cowering against the tub. “Please just k-kill me, please kill me, I’ll be good, I won’t resist, please, please, I’m sorry, I can’t, please kill me!”

Luan clutched his bleeding arm, staring at the pathetic creature before him. Was that what he’d looked like?

“You’re fine. Just don’t do it again or it’s the stake,” he said firmly. He was in control again. He got to make the rules.

“Please don’t call them,” Kane begged. “I’ll do anything, sir.”

“You’re fine,” Luan repeated. He picked the blanket up off the floor, having fallen in the chaos, and draped it back over the vampire. He instantly clung to it, his shaky hands curling tight in the fabric.

“Th-thank you, sir.” Kane gasped. “Thank you, thank you, I’m sorry.”

“Good.” Luan grabbed a box of bandages out of the cabinet and left, closing the door behind him. He was sure the both of them would feel better that way.

-

Luan woke up to insistent knocking at his door.

He wasn’t supposed to fall asleep. There was a fucking vampire in his apartment. As soon as his head was clear enough to realize, he bolted upright, looking to the still-closed bathroom door, then to the window.

The evening sun still filtered through the blinds: it was still daylight, at least for a few hours more.

“Who is it?” he asked, unlocking his phone. An emergency alert from hours ago plastered the screen before he could check his doorbell camera: VAMPIRE IN AREA.

“I’m with the local vampire hunters. We just wanted to ask some questions,” the man at the door said.

Not a sound came from the bathroom.

It would be more suspicious if he didn’t answer the door, right? Luan opened it. “What questions?”

“We were holding a vampire in the base a few streets down when it escaped last night. This one can’t hypnotize you, and we had it pretty weakened, but it’s still dangerous–caught it before it could take anyone, thankfully. We know it couldn’t have gotten far, already combed outside. It has to have snuck into someone’s home, so we’ve been making the rounds before it can escape come nightfall. Have you seen anything suspicious?”

“...Take anyone?” Luan asked, the floor falling out from under him.

“Yep,” the hunter nodded, “When we caught it, it already had someone. Almost got away with her, too. If that thing managed to get her over the border, that’d be it. Last thing we want is for that to happen again. Luckily, we’ve got the sun on our side.”

How could he have been so stupid? Of course a vampire wouldn’t be in human territory for any good reason. Kane had already gotten a taste for his blood. He was just a few hours away from being lured into captivity again, and this time, there’d be no one to save him.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Luan grit his teeth, chest tight. Cyrus would never let him hear the end of it if he knew. “He–he tricked me,” he mumbled. “He’s in the bathroom.”

“Fuck. Least we caught it before sundown. Read up some on vampire safety,” the hunter instructed him, strolling inside.

The bathroom was no longer silent.

A sob accompanied the frantic scratching of nails against wood for only a moment before the hunter yanked the door open, the shitty lock giving way on only the third try.

“No! No, please, I was out!” Kane screamed, clawing at the sink cabinet ever-harder. “Please, please, mercy! I can’t! I was out!”

“Behave yourself,” the hunter spat, and Kane and Luan both flinched. He grabbed the vampire by the hair. “Come quietly and you get a tarp, not that you deserve that much after the stunt you fucking pulled today. Make a fuss and it’s the sun.”

Kane wailed, a cry of anguish so long and deep Luan thought it might never end. When it did, a shaking Kane wrapped his arms around himself. “I’ll be good, sir,” he whispered, eyes distant.

He offered no resistance as the hunter dragged him away, only tears.

Alone once more, Luan knew he’d made the only choice he could to protect himself, but the tightness in his chest didn’t go away.

-

In the coming weeks, Luan couldn’t get the vampire out of his mind.

Even taking it out on the robot didn’t help, not that it ever really did. He found himself turning it on less and less, leaving it in the closet. Seeing Cyrus’s face just made him feel worse.

The hunters had to have killed Kane, right? That would be fine. Humanity would be safe from him if they did that, and Kane had been begging for it, anyway. What reason would they have to keep him alive?

Luan knew the answer to that better than most.

One call to the hunters confirmed it: the vampire was alive, though they promised ‘improved security’.

“Can I see him?” he blurted out.

It took some convincing, but Luan was able to secure himself an appointment.

-

“Keep away from the bars,” the hunter leading him downstairs instructed. Down, down, down. Concrete walls, concrete floor. Luan fought the urge to run. “You can talk with it for five minutes. Get some closure on whatever it was doing in your place. I’ll escort you back up later.”

“Mm-hm,” Luan agreed.

At the bottom of the stairs was a cell, and in the cell was a metal trunk. Luan dug his nails into his palm.

“It might look a little gnarly, but remember, these things aren’t human. They heal like that.” The hunter snapped his fingers. “Wait here.”

The hunter unlocked the cell, then the trunk. “Out.”

The lid flung open, a skinny, burnt hand retracting as soon as it appeared. Kane climbed out of the trunk, landing in a mess on the floor.

He was much worse-off than Luan remembered him. In only six weeks, the clothes he’d given him had become so torn and bloodstained as to be practically unrecognizable. Nearly all the skin he could see was burnt, his face a mess of severe welts. He looked to Luan with utter terror in his eyes, far more than the robot could ever hope to mimic.

“H-hello, sir,” Kane stammered.

Luan had to run. He knew he was safe, he wasn’t a vampire, but the danger emanating from every crack of this place was far greater than any he’d felt with a vampire cowering in his bathtub.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

“I’m s-sorry,” Kane continued, clutching at his shirt. “Please, please, I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Luan asked. “Why are–”

“Please don’t take the clothes away! I’ll do anything!” Kane bowed his head, trembling. “Anything, anything, p-please, I need them, I’m so sorry, please! They’re the only thing protecting me from the silver!”

He picked his head up to look back at the trunk and then Luan with a sob. “Please, I know I don’t d-deserve it, I’m sorry, but please, please, I’m trying. I won’t run again, I’m sorry!”

“They’re yours,” Luan assured him quickly. “I’m not… taking them. That’s not why I’m here.”

Kane let out a massive, shaky exhale, the grip on his shirt still tight. “Thank you for your m-mercy, sir. Thank you for letting me keep them. Thank you for giving me one good day. I treasure it, sir. It–it was the best day I ever had. What can I do for you?” He looked up, eyes shining and watery.

Luan turned and ran.

-

He brought the robot out that night. No one else had the guts to tell him what a piece of shit he was. No one else who wasn’t in prison.

Luan didn’t tell Russ what happened. He didn’t need to. The robot did its job, and by the time he was done, his knuckles hurt. The robot winced as Luan reached down to switch it off, then fell limp.

He called the cops. They didn’t care. It wasn’t a crime to hurt a vampire.

Luan thought about moving, but he didn’t. Instead, he did the opposite, took long walks out to the hunters’ base with his hand on the unused pepper spray in his pocket. It was just a building, as far as he could see, but he knew Kane was in there. Someone had to know.

Until one day, Kane was outside.

He was strapped to a propped-up metal board, baking in the sun, the clothes Luan had given him gone. It was the least human he’d ever looked: his skin boiled like sugar syrup on a stovetop in some places, crisped like burnt marshmallow in others.

There was no one else out there.

He ran home, came back even quicker with his car, and hopped the fence. Barbed wire tore at his skin, but didn’t slow him down. Kane writhed, pulling at his bound wrists.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Luan whispered, taking bolt cutters to his shackles. Kane fell to the ground, letting out a muffled shriek as his yet-untouched back set ablaze.

He didn’t have time to be careful. He hauled Kane up–he hardly weighed anything–and threw him over the fence, following quickly.

Tossing the vampire into his trunk, he added, “Don’t say you’re sorry if you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry. You’re going home.”

Kane’s mangled face was unreadable, but Luan could have swore he saw him relax just a little amid the pain.

-

Luan drove. He couldn’t go home yet, that much he knew. They’d find him in a heartbeat. He drove as far away from that place as he could get, the cargo in his trunk surprisingly quiet.

When he’d gotten a few hours away, he found a secluded corner of a parking garage and popped the trunk.

“Easy, it’s me,” Luan shushed when Kane started to cower. “We’re far away. Here.”

Kane’s mouth was sealed shut, his lips fused together by the heat of the sun. It took some prying, but he managed to get them unfused. Kane didn’t seem to mind, not even when his skin tore and bled.

There were no fangs in his mouth.

Whatever. That wouldn’t stop him. He grabbed his pocketknife from the glove compartment and slashed his palm open. Kane writhed again, a desperate whine dragged from his throat, but stopped when Luan made a fist over his waiting mouth and squeezed.

“Drink up,” he encouraged. He kept going for a while, eventually bringing his hand to Kane’s mouth to let him lick the excess blood from it. His hand left scabbed over, as if it had been healing for hours rather than minutes.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Kane rasped, his voice hoarse. “Thank you, I’ll b-be good this time. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

Oh, he’d screwed this guy up bad. Another achievement in his worthless fucking life.

“Who should I contact about getting you home?” he asked. Time to get straight to the point. “Any vampire who could come here when it’s night and get you?”

Kane was silent for a moment. “Bellamy Verta,” he said eventually. “S-safe. Safe for humans.”

The guy wasn’t hard to find, and from what his profile said, he sure seemed to live up to safe for humans. His profile linked to a website that looked like PETA for vampires.

“I’m sending a DM. He’s probably asleep right now, but he’ll probably see it when he wakes up,” Luan reported.

Kane wept, blubbering gratitudes.

-

Luan cleared the area an hour before Verta was set to arrive. No matter how innocent his page looked, he wasn’t taking any chances. He left the trunk closed so no one would find Kane besides the one who was supposed to, not that he expected vampire hunters to be prowling an unpopulated parking garage in the middle of the night. Not exactly prime vampire ground. He was sure Verta would be able to figure out opening it.

He didn’t go back to the car until he got an emoji-filled DM back from Verta with a picture of what looked like Kane’s attempt at a smile.

His trunk had a hand-shaped dent in it, not that he really gave a shit. By the time he got home, it was almost sunrise. He really had to do something about his sleeping before Monday.

Luan stared blearily at the closet.

He opened it, turned on the robot. Russ flinched back at his touch, looking up at him with a harsh glare. “What?” he spat.

Luan unplugged the charger and shoved it into Russ’s hands before backing away. “You can go.”

Russ opened his mouth, then closed it, the glare melting from his face. He turned and ran through the door without a word, off into the sunrise.

It felt better than any time Luan had hit him.

taglist in reblogs

event: @whumpmasinjuly

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

You don’t sleep. Most nights after one of your father’s fits, you don’t. You’re not sure if your sisters did either. They don’t look like it. 

There’s a ritual after night like those. You get up in silence and meet in the hall. There is no conversation. You each go about your day and try to forget. The bruises aren’t acknowledged and if you’re expecting company, you know how to cover them up. 

Adrienne sweeps as Kitty clears away any clutter. You go to the kitchen and start breakfast. You work quietly and quickly. You move dishes so they don’t clink and carefully put the pan over the burner so it doesn’t make more than a soft clack. Your father is at his worst when he’s been awakened. 

Kitty drops one of your father’s cigar butts in the bin. You glance over at her as you count the bread slices. 

“Two each, four for daddy,” you mutter.  

He always gets more and if he doesn’t, he’s sure to remind you of where everything comes from. You children are like leeches! Grown enough that you should be out on your own, yet he wouldn’t dare to let you leave. You can’t abandon him after your mother died, what kinda daughter... 

You mix up the eggs and milk, with a touch of cinnamon and a drop of vanilla. All of it is carefully measured and rationed. You’re running low on everything else. French toast is the meal that denotes your overdue for a grocery shop. Whenever it is that your father decides to dole out all that money he brags about. 

Adrienne hangs the broom up in the closet and offers to help. You tell your sisters to sit at the table and wait. You’ll start cooking with your father gets up. He hates cold food. So, you wait in a sombre vigil for that creak in ceiling. 

Your father’s door hits the frame harshly and his feet thump down the hallway. His descent on the stairs is staggered and just as heavy. A wisp of cigarette smoke precedes him into the kitchen. Adrienne and Kitty stand to wish him good morning, you echo them, your skin on fire. 

As you see your father’s haggard scowl, that loathing swells in your chest, but more, that fear. His sleepy eyes scan the room as he offers no responses to the daughters he claims to be both his greatest achievement and his most awful burden.  

As he looks at you, you gulp. Can he see what you did? Does he know? He always knows everything. He always finds something to be mad about. Did he hear you climb out the window? Or back in? Could he smell the night air you let in with you? 

“Coffee,” he snarls. 

Relief washes over you but only so far. You have to hold onto that caution. You can never let your guard down. 

You get him his italian roast as he sits at the table. Adrienne and Kitty sit with him, heads down, hands folded in their laps. You work to get the toast ready. His loud slurps and hacking coughs are the only noise in the tense lull. 

You bring the stack of fried bread and the bottle of table syrup over. You put it in the middle, the place mats already set with plates and cutlery. You father stares expectantly at the food. 

You put four slices on his plate for him. He grabs his fork and stabs two more, claiming them for his pile. You don’t say anything. Those would be yours but you’re not very hungry. You smile at your sisters. 

“Dig in, don’t let it get cold,” you say. 

Your brittle tone crackles as your father grumbles. “No sugar?” he sneers. “Your mother always had that sugar.” 

“Sorry, father, I don’t have any--” 

“And the cheap shit,” he grabs the bottle of syrup. 

“They didn’t have any of the real maple but next time I go--” 

“I need smokes,” he growls. “Add those to the list.” 

You’re hopeful that that means he’ll give you the shopping money, otherwise you’ll be down to the last of the flour for tonight’s noodles. You may even have to cute some black spots off the old tomato in the crisper. 

“Yes, sir,” you answer diligently. “More coffee?” 

He only shoves his mug toward you. He growls at your sisters and they grab their servings. You give them a look over his head. It’s okay, eat. You all take your turns in sacrifice to keep the others going. There’s enough cough; it’s a suppressant. 

The old doorbell chimes as you bring your father his second cup. He grunts and keeps on as he is, cutting into the eggy bread and sopping up the syrup he was just complaining about. You don’t wait for his command. If he has to say, he has to re-teach you. 

You hurry from the kitchen and to the front door. You pull it open, expecting Mr. Cassidy to be offering up his old newspaper. The elderly old man wanders door to door, not wanting it to go to waste. He likes to talk about the baseball scores. 

It’s not him. 

“Mr. Rogers,” you greet the number two, your shock laced into your tone. 

He looks down at you dully. You only recognise his posture and his eyes. His hair is longer and darker than the last time you saw him. And his expression is like stone. The only man who gives him orders sat behind that desk last night. 

“Warren, he here?” He asks brusquely. 

“Eating breakfast, sir. Would you like some coffee?” 

“Don’t drink it,” he sniffs. “Got a job. Get him out here. Now.” 

You would ask him to come in but it’s easier to take orders. You nod and turn around rigidly. You walk away with a tremor in your fingers. It’s unusual to see anyone above a capo at the door, let alone the underboss.

Is it a reminder of what you did? A threat for you not to do it again? 

“Daddy,” you stop just inside the doorway. “There’s someone here--” 

“Tell Carlos to hold his fucking horses,” your father snarls. 

“Daddy, it isn’t...” you nearly choke on your words. You don’t know who to fear more. Your father or the man waiting outside. “It’s Steve Rogers.” 

It’s his turn to gag. He coughs and spits out his mouthful. He gives you a wide-eyed glare and stands. He adjusts his robe and reties it. 

“You better not be fucking with me,” he grits as he approaches you. 

You just shake your head. He shoulders past you so roughly, that your other arm hits the door frame with a crack. It’s your fault that he’s unready to face the boss. It’s your fault that this unexpected guest is waiting for him. Always your fault. 

Kitty and Adrienne look at you with concern. You go to the table and sit. You know better than to listen in. Unless you want your ears boxed in. 

“Hey, you can have some of mine,” Adrienne offers a slice. 

“Not hungry,” you sit and stare at the wall. Your stomach is going wild. What if Barnes sent Rogers because of you? What if he’s telling your father about your betrayal? 

“What do you think he’s doing here?” Kitty whispers. 

You shake your head. It’s not your business, don’t make it. That’s how people get hurt. 

You already went to far...

Finally, the front door snaps shut. Your father’s lumbering steps return to the kitchen and he lights another smoke as he enters. His grin is unsettling. You sit, breath bated, and wait for him to grab a spatula or the broom. He knows. 

“Looks like I'm on my way up, girls,” he proclaims as pats the pocket of his robe. It bulges from within. “Got a job outta town. And a bonus.” He sits and puffs on the cigarette, “go buy some real fucking syrup.” 

He lets the cigarette hang between his lips as he slides out the thick envelope. He counts out several bills and flutters them over the table. You stare in disbelief. Even if you haven’t been given up, this is a clear message; know your fucking place. 

[sad-leon]

3 AM

[rbtlvr]

'Is this like an Alice in Wonderland thing?' Leo called out, paddling towards Sensei and trying not to swallow water as he moved. 'Did you cry all these tears?' 'The mindscape does love a good metaphor.' Sensei called back, and he sounded fucking wrecked.

old dead bones that don't get theirs (death wish sidefic by @remedyturtles) was written to kill me, specifically, personally, actually. i still think about it Constantly

[kodogaron]

Life - Mother Mother

Fanart for @remedyturtles 's fic, Little Kid With a Big Death Wish on ao3!! I love this fic so much, it's incredibly profound and well written, thank you for putting it out there

"Oh yeah I lost my head again, out there on the rough and tough terrain

'spose I'll go calling out his name, say 'hey old bloke, where'd you go again?"

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #19: Eye Spy…

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content: lab whump, captivity, experimentation, nonsexual nudity, drugging, mind control, panic attack, sensory deprivation, fear of drowning, near death experience, sensory overload, angst, suicidal ideation, winged test subject whumpee, creepy scientist carewhumper

heed the warnings on this one folks… :)

— 

Despite things happening to Dew that he was never thought possible, nothing was making being here a better experience. His body and mind were changing without his control, he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks, and despite trying so hard not to, he missed his old life. But the scientist was more giddy than ever, seemingly too enraptured with the experiments to notice Dew’s obvious sinking despair.

That was all it was, now. The same routine. Torturous experiments that left him in pain, dulling and mind-numbing tests, the scientist’s voice describing it all in his tape recorders, and the small moments of peace and comfort he got inbetween it all.

Dew wondered what would happen next. What the next horrible modification to his body would be, how much it would change him, how much of himself would be left when it was over. He wondered how his clone was doing, if his friends even suspected anything. He wondered how long this would go on for, how long he could last, how long he even wanted to last.

The past couple of days, Anton had been working in the lab alone, on something that was unknown to Dew. He’d brought out a giant rectangular tank of some sort, and had been messing around with the strange liquid inside. He refused to elaborate on it, and Dew had no choice but to ignore it.

So he was stuck in his small room, unable to really do anything besides draw, but even that grew tiring. Sometimes Sasha would show up, but they’d barely talk to each other, neither of them really having anything interesting to say.

His eyes felt mostly back to normal by now, and he was content without wearing a blindfold all the time. His third eye felt natural to him, and he almost forgot about it if not for him accidentally zoning out and seeing through objects sometimes.

The scientist had let up on him too, and Dew was allowed to do things on his own again. He was behaving, after all, and Anton wanted to respect his privacy and space as much as he coul, as if Dew was still a person.

He was still a person. Sometimes it was hard to believe that anymore.

“Dew,” Anton said, though he sounded so, so far away. “Wake up.”

“Huh?” Dew sat up and stretched, wings flapping lightly in contentment. Just another morning.

“Here’s your food.”

“Thanks.”

“You experiencing any more changes with your eyes?” Anton asked as Dew ate his breakfast. The scientist was wearing his weird goggles again, today.

“Nope. Just darkness.” He stared off into space, watching Anton write that down in his clipboard. Then he saw the scientist’s heartbeat through his chest. He blinked, and focused on the blindfold. Darkness.

“Hmm, okay. We have a pretty important experiment today. I’m excited.”

“Aren’t they all important?”

“Well, yes, but this one is…” The scientist waved his hands excitedly. “It will change everything, if all goes right.”

“They all change everything…” Dew mumbled, looking to the ground.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Anyway, you can take off your blindfold, you won’t be needing it. I’ll turn the lights out when we get there. Oh, and don’t bother putting on the hospital gown. Unfortunately, clothes will just get in the way of this one.”

“Oh… alright.” So it would be something different this time, after all.

They walked into the lab, and Dew could see the giant glass tank that Anton had been working on for the past few days up close. Getting a better look, he noticed it was filled with nothing but a pitch black liquid. He wouldn’t have thought it was glass at first, but the edges of it were thick and clear, so it had to be. The liquid inside was so dark and opaque, and he couldn’t even see through it if he tried, as focusing all his concentration on it just made his head hurt. This was the first time he’d been completely unable to see through something with his new eyes.

There was a ladder leaning against the tank, and the top of it looked like it could be opened and closed. The tank itself was smaller than the giant glass tube filled with green liquid on the other side of the lab, the one that had always been there but to Dew’s understanding, went unused. This one was just a few feet taller than him, and wide enough to hold his arms straight out in all directions, but not much else. The thought of being stuck in there filled him with dread.

He thought it surely had to do with whatever the scientist was going to do to him today. But he’d stopped spying on Anton’s notes and plans after a while, not caring about what happened to him anymore as the tests on his eyes grew more and more mundane and repetitive. This one though, seemed different. Perhaps he should’ve snuck a peak.

“Ah, yes,” Anton began, turning to Dew with that familiar unhinged, giddy expression. “You’re probably wondering what this is, right?” He gestured to the giant tank while casually leaning a hand against it.

Dew faked a smile. “Yeah.” He found the scientist to be in a better mood when he pretended to care about what he was saying, when he pretended to be happy to be there.

“Of course you do,” Anton said theatrically. “This tank here can hold just about anything in it, it’s very strong, impossible to break through. It can’t be moved from this spot, but it can be lowered into the floor, where it’s usually stored and out of the way. But you don’t have to worry about that, I have another way of making whoever’s inside be enclosed in complete darkness.”

“W-wait, inside?”

“Yes! For this experiment, you’ll be going inside the tank. The stuff it’s filled with is what I’ve been working on. When you go inside of it, it will— well, it’d be more fun as a surprise I think. But it’s breathable. You won’t drown in it, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s perfectly safe.”

Well, shit. “W-what are you gonna do to me?” Dew asked miserably.

Anton adjusted the goggles on his face, making them glow a bright green. He smiled. “You’ll find out soon.”

The entire lab faded to complete darkness, but Dew’s eyes adjusted quickly. The scientist had his night vision goggles on, and was writing something down in his clipboard. Dew waited in agonizing silence until Anton snapped on some black rubber gloves and started preparing a syringe.

“Don’t worry, Dewey. Just two injections. They’ll be over quickly.” The first syringe was huge, almost the biggest one he’d used on him yet. It was filled with a glowing orange liquid, fizzy with bubbles. Anton flicked it hard a few times, and brought it towards him.

Dew was about to ask if he could wear his headphones during this, distract himself with loud music blasting through his ears, but Anton was quick to inject the syringe into Dew’s neck before he got a word out. Pure agony erupted in his veins, just for a moment, but then it was over.

Dew didn’t even have time to process what had happened before Anton was injecting something else into his arm, but a far more familiar and just a little less painful substance than the first. By now, Dew recognised it as something that’d probably make him feel weak and sleepy, a sedative of some sort.

“All done,” Anton said, putting the needles away and walking back to Dew. “Now, we have to wait a little bit for the stuff to set in. In the meantime, you can, uh, take off your shirt and pants. You won’t be needing them.”

“O-oh. Okay.” Dew did as he was asked, and Anton tossed his clothes to the side. “Now what?”

“We wait. Tell me if you start to feel anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Dew said. And they waited. Anton spun in his chair with a smile on his face while Dew stood there awkwardly in the dark, cold and exposed, waiting in agonizing anticipation for something to happen. It was almost numbing, thinking about it, wondering what was going to happen.

A few moments passed, and Dew started to feel strange. His face scrunched up in confusion, then a worried realization.

“H-hey um, Anton?” Dew whimpered, scratching at his arms. “I don’t… I don’t f-feel anything.”

“Good,” Anton mused. “You’re not supposed to feel anything.” He took Dew’s wrist and led him to the ladder.

“W-what?”

“It’ll be okay, just trust me. Now, climb into the tank, Dew.”

Dew stepped towards the ladder, taking apprehensive glances back at the scientist. He put a hand on it, but felt nothing against his palm. “I-I’m scared.”

“Just relax. Climb up the ladder.” Dew felt his body move automatically, the scientist in control of his every action. He watched his hands gripping the ladder and his legs climbing up it, but felt nothing. “Good, that’s it.”

The entire top of the tank was covered by a thick metal lid, with a latch on one side. Dew crawled on top of it, and sat opposite from the ladder. Now that he was free from Anton’s grasp, he realized he was losing more and more feeling in his body. “I can’t- I can’t breathe—”

“You can, you probably just don’t feel it. That’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, Dew.” The scientist climbed up the ladder after him, and Dew sat in place. Anton unlocked the latch, and slid the top half open. Dew could now see the inside clearly, the strange dark liquid only a few inches away from him. He knew where this was going. And he was unrestrained, he could still jump down or fly away from this. But of course, he couldn’t feel his wings either.

While Dew was staring into the darkness of the tank, he hadn’t noticed that Anton started to attach some wires to his skin, long, dangly things that attached to the tank and led to the machines and screens by his desk. Once he was all hooked up to whatever that was, the scientist placed his hands firmly on Dew’s sides, making his hair stand on end. “I’m going to lower you down now, alright? Stay nice and still for me, Dew. Everything will be fine.”

Dew tried to wiggle out of his grip, but he couldn’t seem to muster up the strength. “N-no, please, I don’t wanna do this,” He whimpered.

“It’s okay. This won’t hurt you.” Dew curled into himself as Anton lifted him up, and lowered him down.

Dew expected it to be cold, or warm, or to feel like something, but it felt like absolutely nothing. Half of his body was submerged, but he wouldn’t have even known that if he weren’t looking right at it. His body disappeared under the liquid completely, and the thought of his head being submerged made him want to cry. He grabbed onto Anton’s arms, silently begging him to stop or slow his descent. He tried to kick out, but he couldn’t feel or see if his legs were moving or not, or if they even could. He couldn’t touch the bottom, couldn’t kick his legs to swim, couldn’t keep his head above the surface if he were to be dropped inside.

“Anton, p-please. I- I don’t feel anything. I can’t- I-I can’t even feel my own heartbeat! That’s gotta be bad, right?” Dew let go of Anton’s arms and grabbed the ledge of the tank, scared that the scientist would let go and he’d have nothing to grab on to. “I-I feel like I’m gonna die— I don’t w-wanna die!”

The scientist let go and took a few steps down the ladder, reaching eye level with his test subject. He extended his hand towards Dew to ruffle his hair like he had done so many times before. He laughed maniacally. “Dew, if it was gonna kill you, it would have by now. I would never let anything bad happen to you. You’re completely safe.”

“P-please!” Dew held on for dear life. He couldn’t go under. He couldn’t. “I d-don’t wanna do th-this!”

“Shhh…” Anton said. And despite it all, he still seemed to have a hold on Dew’s brain, forcing him to relax deeper into himself. “Any minute now, you’ll start to get weaker. I recommend getting yourself comfortable in there before you succumb to the drugs.”

“And- and if I don’t?”

“You won’t be strong enough to keep holding yourself up like this. It’d be less distressing for you to go under on your own will. But I suppose it doesn’t really matter; you’ll go down either way.”

“But I…I can’t…”

His words were getting awfully sluggish, and it was becoming increasingly harder to hold on and keep himself upright.

“N-no…”

His eyelids were growing heavier and heavier, and it was taking a great deal of concentration to try and keep his one sense he had left.

“You’ll be okay, Dew. I promise.”

He looked up at Anton with wide, horrified eyes, as the scientist gently pried his fingers off of the ledge, and let go of his hands. Now that he was no longer holding onto anything, and had no feeling in his limbs, he began to sink deeper into the liquid. The last thing he saw before his head was submerged in that pitch dark fluid, was the scientist smiling down at him, the glow of his bright green goggles, and his hand slowly moving the lid closed.

Then, darkness. Complete and absolute darkness. Dew was fully submerged.

He couldn’t feel a thing. Not even the heavy beat of his own heart. He opened his mouth to scream but didn’t hear or feel a single sound come out. He tried to flail his arms, but he had no perception of moving anything at all. His vision was filled with a dark abyss of nothingness, and he definitely couldn’t taste the bile rising in his throat.

He tried desperately to bang on the glass, but with everything being pitch black and his sense of touch gone, it was impossible to know what he was actually doing with his body. He couldn’t tell whether this fluid affected his ability to see through the dark and objects, or whether his sense of sight was gone just like all his other senses.

Dew felt nothing. He felt as if he didn’t even have a body. If he was moving, if someone was talking to him, if he was even breathing— under this strange liquid— he wouldn't know. All he had was his mind, and his terrified racing thoughts to accompany him in this hellish limbo.

Dew felt like he was nothing but a brain in a jar. He felt like he was floating through space with no concept of human existence. No, he felt like he didn’t exist at all.

Wait.

Was he dead?

Is this what death was?

Dew never really thought about what happens when you die. He hoped there was a better place, and that it would be peaceful, but it didn’t matter in the end, because everyone died.

The concept of literally ceasing to exist always filled Dew with a strange feeling he couldn't describe. It was incomprehensible, but he wasn’t against the idea.

But this wasn’t that. Sure, he was floating in nothing but a black abyss, but he still existed. He could still think, and feel emotions, and wonder, and want so, so badly to know what was happening to him.

His life flashed before his eyes. His childhood with his family, his friends, his pets, his hobbies and his passions and hopes and dreams. He thought about happy days, sad days, sleepovers, being alone, camping trips, anxiety, coming out, failing, music, hurt feelings, school, loss, video games, grief, art, regret. He thought about everything Anton had given him, and everything he had taken away. He thought about the lab, his tomb.

Was this really all his short and pathetic life was for? To live, just to die? Just to die here, alone, by the hands of his tormentor during another horrible experiment on him? He never got to say goodbye to his friends or his pets or his parents. He never got to say goodbye.

It felt like an eternity, floating there, wherever he was, or wasn’t anymore.

Time passed on infinitely. He felt himself fading away.

Just as fast as this whole thing started, it ended. Dew opened his eyes— or maybe they were always open— and all five of his senses came back in a heavy, overwhelming wave.

No. He thought. He didn’t want to feel. He was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be free.

“...ey? Dewey? Can you hear me? Wake up, Dew. Please wake up.”

Dew’s hands immediately flew up to cover his ears, and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a pained yelp.

He was out of that horrible tank, laying next to it on the hard and cold floor, and the scientist was looming over him.

And he could feel everything again.

His heartbeat pounded deep and heavy in his chest and echoed through his ears. His eyes were wide and everything was far too bright and intense but closing his eyes meant he’d be back in that dark abyss, and he- he couldn’t go back there again. He felt his wings and their primal, yearning desire to fly, and he flapped them rapidly, feathers slapping against the floor beneath him. It was all too much.

“Dew, Dew calm down.” Anton’s voice was frantic. “You’re okay. I-I fucked it up, but you’re okay. We’re done now, this- this obviously has much more work to be done to it.”

“You said you wouldn’t kill me!” Dew sobbed.

“Hey. Dew, listen to my voice. You’re okay, you’re— look at me,” Anton dimmed the lights in the lab and waited for Dew’s eyes to focus on him— all three of them. “I-I didn’t kill you. Not at all. You- you were just unconscious. You didn’t die, and you’re still alive. You’re alive.” The scientist was stumbling over his words. Dew had never seen him like this before.

“Get the fuck away from me! Let me go! Let me out of here!”

“Okay, okay. Please calm down.” Dew saw the sight of a syringe and began to sob harder, he was hysterical. Anton quickly injected him, though it was hard when he didn’t stop moving. Dew’s struggles started to die down and after a while, he slumped against the floor and stared teary eyed at Anton.

The scientist just kneeled there, at his side, staring at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Dew slurred. “What the fuck- what the f…”

“Shhh, sh sh sh.” Anton said, and started messily carding a hand through his hair. “Relax, Dew. Calm down. You’re okay.”

“G-go to hell.”

“Shh. Let’s- let’s get you out of here.” Anton picked him up, holding onto him tighter than ever, and carried him to the couch by the kitchen. He laid him down and rested the side of his head to his chest, still clinging to him. Dew laid his head on the arm rest, and used the last of his strength to swat at the scientist with his wings.

Anton curled a hand through Dew’s hair, and wrapped his other hand around his torso. “Dew- Stop that, I’m just trying to make sure—”

“That I’m alive?”

“Yes.” Anton breathed heavily, closing his eyes and listening to Dew’s heart.

“How- how long?” Dew said quietly.

“What?”

“How long did you k-keep me in there?”

“Just, just a few hours, why?”

Tears fell from Dew’s cheeks. “It felt like forever. Like- an eternity. It felt like I was dead.”

Anton just held him tighter.

“I-I need to check your vitals,” Anton said suddenly, but it took him a while to finally move from that spot.

Dew laid there limply as Anton examined him. Sometimes he’d swat at him with his wings. Strange shadows kept consuming his vision and he tried to swat them away too. An icy chill went down Dew’s body as Anton put a stethoscope over his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut. It was all too much. It was all too much.

“Just a- just a bit elevated, but I supposed, that's to be expected.”

“A-Anton?” Dew squeaked.

“Yes?” The scientist turned all his attention to him, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“P-please don’t d-do that to me ag-again. Please.”

“No, yeah, I-I won’t. I won’t. Never again. I’m sorry. I-I’m so sorry.”

That was all Dew needed to hear when he broke down, grasping at the scientist’s sweater and sobbing into his chest. Anton hugged him back tightly, both of them clinging to one another as if their lives depended on it.

“Just let it out, buddy,” Anton said, rubbing Dew’s back and carding a hand through his hair. “That’s right. It’s okay, Dew. Shhh.”

They were like that for a while, neither of them knowing how long. Gradually, they both started to relax, heavy and rapid breathing turning calm and quiet.

Eventually, Dew fell asleep, and after a while of laying with him, Anton stood up. Running a trembling hand through his own disheveled hair, he went to clean up the mess he’d made. He stared at the scattered papers, spilled liquid, dropped pens and broken tape recorders that were littered around his desk, and grabbed a device. He pressed a button, and watched the giant glass tank lower back into the floor.

What a failure. A failure. But he could hardly think about that now. It’d been hours, it was well into the night; what they both needed was sleep. Tomorrow would be better.

After cleaning up the lab, Anton stood up, straightened his lab coat, and walked towards the couch. Dew was sleeping, body exhausted from the day’s events, but he was perfectly okay. He was breathing steady, blood pressure stable, brain active, healthy. Everything turned out okay. This experiment just needed some improvements, was all. They’d try again. …Or not, that was always okay too. Anton had more plans, better plans, than this stupid, reckless idea.

He picked his test subject up and carried him to his room. Anton lingered in his doorway for a little longer than usual, before saying goodnight, and heading out the door.

. . .

Dew woke up later that night. Everything was quiet, and dark, and cold, just like it had always been. He was lying on his back, blinking up at the ceiling, not able to muster up the energy to roll over and wrap his wings around himself and curl up into a ball and cry like he usually did. He just stared, alone and sad. He was glad he could at least see through the darkness, this time.

Dew moved his arms above his head, under his pillow. He felt the cool, sharp metal of his knife.

He could have used it. But he left it sitting abandoned in his pillowcase, day after day. It wouldn’t have been hard for the scientist to find it, or for Dew to get caught trying to stab him. But neither of them did. It existed, unused, as nothing more than something just to have hidden from the scientist.

Dew took out the knife. It stood out in this darkness, the shine glimmering off of his eyes as he turned it around in his hand. He wasn’t holding onto it very tight, he noticed. He was holding it in front of his face, laying down, staring up at the ceiling. If he dropped it, it would land on him. He’d have a scar on his face he wouldn’t be able to explain. Anton would take the knife away in the morning. Dew tightened his grip.

He closed his eyes. Nothing would get better here. Nothing. He was being good, he was doing everything Anton asked of him. He accepted his life here. He would never leave. This was it. This was it. All the pain and experimentation he had to endure every single day would be his life forever. Dew thought things might’ve gotten better if he just complied, but things got worse, he just fell deeper and deeper into his pit of despair. He’d never leave this place, he’d never see his friends again, and he’d never stop being used as a lab rat.

Dew sobbed quietly, squeezing the handle of the knife until his hand started to tremble. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed the pain to stop.

But he— he couldn’t! Dew had never felt this way before! He didn’t want to die! He didn't!

But he thought… maybe… he’d get to finally escape this hell for good, and see his parents again.

His ears rang, which made it hard to tell if the humming above him was real or not.

No, there was absolutely somebody humming nearby. It was coming from the ceiling— in a corner by the door. Dew furrowed his brows and tried to listen deeper. It was a tune he recognised, but one he hadn’t heard in a long time. The voice sounded smooth and peaceful, and yet shaky and quiet, almost impossible to hear. But it sounded so real. It sounded nice. He must be hallucinating.

Dew thought that if he opened his eyes, he’d be all alone, and the pleasant, comforting sound would stop. But if he didn’t, he’d never know where that sound was coming from. What did he have to lose? Dew opened his eyes.

His heart all but stopped.

Up in the corner of his room was a person. A whole person, just… floating there, curled up in a ball while their dangly locks of hair floated all around them. Their skin was dark, and they wore a baggy yellow sweater, but it almost looked desaturated. In fact, their whole body looked like it was blending into the darkness, blurry and hard to focus on, but so very visible to him. They were humming to themself, quietly, rocking back and forth in the air as if they were floating in space, or in the middle of the ocean. Their eyes were squeezed shut— but it was hard to tell because their hair completely covered one of them— and they didn’t seem to notice that Dew was staring.

He had no idea what to do. He must be hallucinating. He couldn’t trust his mind anymore— or his eyes; they were all fucked up, changed beyond recognition. He could see through darkness and walls and objects, of course his brain would trick him into seeing things that weren’t there. Or even… see through into…

No. No. That wasn’t possible. This wasn’t real. Dew was being silly, and stupid. He should just put the knife down and go to sleep.

But he didn’t want to.

“Hey,” Dew said, sitting upright and pulling the blanket to his chest. He got no response. “H-Hey.” The person opened their one visible eye and looked at him with a blank, but pained expression.

“Wh-who are you?” Dew asked.

A beat. Their eye went unnaturally wide for a fraction of a moment. “You can… You can see me…?” They asked, and their voice sounded soft, yet pained, echoey, hollow, like floating in a cave deep underground, crystal clear water dripping down from the stalactites into a shallow pool, letting out a drop amidst the silence. When they spoke, it felt as if they were all around the room and yet nowhere all at once, it felt as if they were touching Dew’s mind and yet far, far away.

Dew brought his knees to his chest. “Y-yeah. Who are you?” He asked again, voice wavering. “What’s going on?”

They blinked, and it felt like their eye was piercing into his soul. A wave of hazy emotions flowed through Dew, a sense of longing and comfort and relief and horror and suffering and sadness all at once. It felt like an ache of dread deep in his chest that didn’t seem to ever go away. He felt deep underwater, drowning in the energy that emitted off the person in his room. Dew didn’t know how long the two of them stared at each other for; time seemed to have stopped completely. He felt like the two of them were the center of the universe, deep in an endless void, alone. And yet, it felt so comforting— and horrifying— when they finally spoke again.

“I’m Max…” The ghost said. “The last lab rat.”

— 

:)

(max’s pronouns are they/them)

taglist:

@whumpinthepot @shywhumpauthor @whump-me-all-night-long @whump321 @fuckcapitalismasshole

@sorry-i-spaced @theelvishcowgirl @catnykit @tettlod @delicateprincepaper

@rejectedbytheempty @mijajaj @anothertawogsideblog @creppersfunpalooza @toyybox

@parasitebunny @bottlecapreader @thecareandkeepingofwhumpees @inkwell-and-dagger @vidawhump

@thepotatoofnopes @labwhump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @whumping-valentine @whumpsoda

@silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @lumpofsand @cepheusgalaxy @lumpywhump @otterfrost

let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!

[alljarnopickles]

There’s a red light up ahead

I drive my car into it

I’m a little kid with a big death

wish - Baby Boy by Mother Mother

I made an edit for @remedyturtles ‘s FANTASTIC fic Death Wish on ao3! It consumes my every waking thought, it’s been plaguing me for over a year in the BEST WAY <3 Thank you so much Rem this literally changed my life!!

ART CREDITS (in order) !!!!

@sad-leon

@rbtlvr

@liketheletter-l

You all have such beautiful art! <3