#drugged tw

[hold-him-down]

SNIPPET TIME

here you go this one is from 'hold him down - part 2' (which follows hold him down - part 1) when leo is handed back to the department post-parker. if you'd rather wait until the semi-polished entire thing is ready, skip this one! this piece is like half complete but snippets have been requested and i do love a good very-poorly-tuned snippet dump:

✥ ✥ ✥

“It’s difficult to speak with him when he’s like this,” she says, her attention shifting abruptly to the handler who stands by the door.

She’s not speaking to Leo, though, so Leo draws his gaze back to the water, weighing the odds that he can take a sip without spilling it. His throat is on fire. To help occupy his mind, he shifts his focus to the wall behind Rachel Tippin, LSW, at all the certificates that hang there. He wonders briefly if she saw herself in this type of position, if she dreamt of this type of work as a kid. He thinks about how, when he was a kid, he dreamt of becoming a cop so that he could show the cops that he was important and that he could do good and that his family was harmless, and in the deepest recesses of his seven-year-old mind, he prayed that if he impressed the right people,  they would give him back his dad–

The stray thought comes out of nowhere and Leo slams that door shut, forcing his mind to the blank, quiet place that he sometimes holds onto because, he thinks, if he has another outburst today, he may not survive it.

“Ask me what you want to know, then,” Leo can hear Handler Grey saying. 

Leo drags his eyes over to the handler and tries to smile at him. In response, Handler Grey’s eyes narrow, just for a second, and Leo shrinks back in on himself, mumbling an apology that he can’t quite place the source of. The look the handler gives him is scathing, and he locks his jaw. He needs to focus, and he knows that, but he also knows that he’s been drugged out of his mind and how is he supposed to focus? Handler Grey can see what medicine he’s been given to calm him down, and has to know the limits of what he can push through.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

I've Got You

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 25. Betrayal, "How could you?" Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, f!reader Summary: A night at The Hard Deck takes a dire turn when you realize someone has slipped something into your drink. As the drugs begin kicking in, you turn to your pilot for help. Word Count: 2326 TW: Reader is Hangman's Backseater, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drugged, Spiked Drink, Betrayal, Jake Carries Reader, Fighting, Implied Future Sexual Assualt, Language, NOT ALL TWs LISTED READ AT OWN RISK  Notes: Thank you to @ohtobeleah for looking this over 💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

For the third time, you jammed your fingers down your throat trying to expel whatever drug had entered your system into the toilet in front of you. Yet as hard as you tried, nothing else was coming up. You collapsed sideways and dragged yourself over to the back wall. There, wedged between the toilet and the side of the stall, you tried to figure out what to do next. Your head was growing foggier by the minute and your body was becoming so heavy that it was a struggle to even lift your hand or hold your head up. 

Using what little strength you had left, you dug your phone out of your pocket, and, with it lying on the floor beside you, you typed the words “help. bathroom. now.” into your last text chat and pressed send. Then all the tension left your body as you slumped limply against the toilet.

You had no idea how long you waited like that, but eventually, you heard a soft knock at the stall door. “Sunshine? You in here?”

“Jake…”

That was all he needed to hear. You only ever called him Jake when you were being one hundred percent serious or the situation was dire. There was a second of silence before the door smashed open, the lock shattering as the full force of Hangman’s foot slammed into the door. He looked around before he noticed you wedged in the corner. His eyes grew wide and his tanned skin paled in the fluorescent lighting as he dropped to his knees in front of you. 

“Oh my god…” He grabbed your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to get a better look at your eyes. “Your pupils are huge. What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

“Drink…” You swallowed and tried to claw your way out of the darkness you were slipping into. “S-someone put something in my drink.”

“Fuck…” Jake muttered, glancing over his shoulder. Then, his attention returned to you as he leaned in, his beer-scented breath breezing across your face. “Who were you drinking with? Sunny, stay with me.” He gently slapped your cheeks to get you to open your eyes. “Who was it?”

You tried to think but the fog rolling through your mind made it hard to focus. Finally, you recalled, “Frogger. Frogger and Screwball.”

“Okay, good.” Jake ran his hand up and down your arm, trying to keep you awake. “We need to let Penny know and have her call the cops. And probably the MPs. I won’t let them get away with this.”

“Thank…you…” you muttered, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of your lips. For the first time since you realized what was happening, you felt safe.

“I’m not gonna let someone mess with my backseater, now am I? Only I’m allowed to do that,” Jake smiled back, ruffling your hair. Then he placed his arms under your arms and legs and lifted your limp body off the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Now, let’s get outta here.”

With your head carefully tucked against his chest, Jake carried you from the bathroom. Your eyes were half-lidded and your vision was still tinged with darkness but at least it wasn’t getting worse and you were no longer fighting to remain awake with everything in you. You were still having trouble moving your limbs or lifting your head, however, it didn’t matter as you were safely gathered in Jake’s arms. 

As soon as Jake walked into the main room of the bar, Penny noticed the two of you and gasped. Tossing her bar rag onto her shoulder, she hurried to Jake’s side, placing her hand on your cheek as she asked, “Oh my god! Is she alright?”

“She will be. But you need to call the cops.” Jake nodded towards the end of the bar where Frogger and Screwball were still sitting next to your empty seat. “Those two bastards spiked her drink.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Seresin?” Frogger demanded, sliding off his bar stool as his face grew red. “We didn’t do anything to her! We were just flirting a little.”

Screwball looked like a deer caught in headlights as he glanced from Frogger to you and back to Frogger. “Frog—”

“Shut up,” the other pilot growled under his breath. Then, turning back to Jake, he said, “I don’t care what the bitch says, we didn’t touch her or her fucking drink. You’re not pinning this on us. I’m not going down for something I didn’t do.”

“You were the only ones with her since she got her drink,” Penny snapped, her hands on her hips. “And I sure as hell didn’t drug her when I served her.” 

Screwball jumped off his chair and took off for the door, but before he could get more than a few steps, Rooster, Coyote, and Payback blocked his way. All three men had at least four inches and twenty pounds on the small pilot and they all looked out for blood after an attack on one of their own. 

Screwball whirled around and pointed a trembling finger at Frogger. “It had to be him! I just wanted to play some darts but he’s the one who insisted we chat up Sunshine. He has to be the one that did it!”

“You son of a bitch!” 

Frogger turned and launched himself at Screwball, knocking both men to the floor. Before anyone could react, Frogger began pummeling Screwball in the face as he yelled, “Take it back, you fucking traitor! I didn’t do it!” 

The three pilots who had been guarding the door dove into the fray and pulled Frogger off Screwball even as he continued kicking and cursing. Screwball curled into a ball and sobbed, alternating between cries of pain and cries of his innocence. 

Penny had momentarily vanished in the scuffle but reappeared back at your side with her phone and a water bottle that she held out to you. “Here, honey, drink this. It’ll help flush whatever they gave you out of your system.”

With her help, you took a few big sips out of the bottle, spilling some of it down your shirt. However, the cool water felt refreshing on your feverish skin and you relaxed into Jake’s arms with a sigh. 

Penny smiled, tucking the water bottle between your arm and Jake’s chest. Then she dialed 911 and waited for someone to answer. Glancing at Jake, she asked, “Should I have them send an ambulance too?”

“No, it’s okay.” Jake shifted you slightly so he had a better hold on you, then began heading towards the bar’s exit. “I’ll take her to the hospital, make sure she’s alright.” 

“Thank you, Jake,” Penny smiled, the phone still up to her ear. Pointing at him as Bob held the door open, Penny added, “All your drinks are on the house for the next month.” 

“I’m gonna make you regret that,” Jake chuckled, then he carried you out into the night.

It was a short walk across the parking lot to his truck. Once there, Jake settled you into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver’s side and climbing in, placing your water bottle in the cup holder. When he started the engine, he cracked your window so you could get a little breeze then he pulled out of the parking lot. 

Between throwing up, the cool night air in your face, and the water Penny gave you, you were starting to feel more alert. The world around you was still swimming slightly, but you were able to sit up and lift your head. 

Jake must have noticed because he grinned as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Hey there, Sunshine. How you feeling?”

“Better,” you mumbled, blinking a few times to try and clear your vision. Smiling softly at him, you said, “Thank you, Hangman. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“It’s what I do, Sunny,” Jake said. “I’m your pilot. I’ve always got your best interest in mind.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, leaning your head back against the door to get more air. “I guess you do.”

The two of you drove in silence for a few minutes and you were just about to drift off when you realized where you were. Sitting up, you asked, “Wait, I thought you were taking me to the hospital. Wasn’t that the turn?”

Jake shrugged. “Yeah, but they are doing construction down that road. I can turn up here.” He grabbed the open water bottle Penny had given you out of the cup holder and held it out to you. “Here. Drink some more of this. It’ll help.”

Taking it from him, you downed it in one gulp. You didn’t register the bitter sting on your tongue until after you had swallowed yet you recognized it immediately as the same taste that had initially alerted you that something was wrong back at the bar. But you had drunk half the water bottle when Penny first gave it to you without noticing anything off. Which could only mean…

Slowly, you raised your eyes to look at your pilot, the man you trusted with your life on a daily basis. “You wouldn’t…”

A smug grin spread across Jake’s face as he continued to stare at the road in front of him. “You know…I was so sure you had figured out it was me when I got your text. I thought you noticed me slipping the drug into your drink when I came up to the bar to grab my beer and that the game was over before it really even began. But then when I looked at you, huddled there on that disgusting floor looking so pathetic, I realized things had gone better than I hoped. I knew you’d tell someone what happened—probably Phoenix or Bob—then I’d step up to drive you to the hospital. I just never imagined I’d be the one you went to for help. Not when we weren’t on the clock.”

Tears slipped down your face, your voice quivering as you whispered, “How could you?”

“Come on, Sunshine. We both know you’ve been teasing me for months now, just begging me to make a move. Like I wouldn’t notice that perfume you’ve been wearing just for me? How I catch that faint trace of it in the cockpit when you shift in your seat behind me? Or how you always tie the arms of your flight suit around your waist when we’re going through after-training checks, showing off those perky breasts beneath that thin white tank top? Bending over in front of me rubbing that perfect ass in my face? You know how many times I’ve almost pinned you to the side of our plane and had my way with you? But no. You wanted to play the game, so I played the game. Now I’ve won, I’ve got you, and I’m ready for my prize.”

Horrified, all you could do was stare at this stranger with your pilot’s face. This was not the Jake Seresin you had been flying with for the past six months. The one who would flirt with almost any woman who crossed his path, yes, but who would never cross the line or hurt anyone…or so you thought.

Even as your body began to go slack in your seat as this new round of drugs kicked in, you tried to reason with him. “Jake, I’m sorry if I ever gave you the wrong impression, but I don’t want this. I-I was just doing my job. I wasn’t trying to tease you or lead you on. And it’s not too late. P-Please, stop this now and we’ll just forget everything that happened tonight.”

“Oh, I know you will.” Jake’s grin took on a sinister edge as the shadows between street lights flashed across his face. “That’s the best part of this drug. You won’t remember any of this in the morning.”

“What?” you breathed, a whole new level of terror settling in at this revelation. 

“But don’t worry, Sunny,” Jake purred as he turned into the driveway of a house you vaguely recalled visiting once to pick up some paperwork he forgot to file. “That just means we can play this game over and over and over again.”

He threw the truck into park and jumped out. A second later, your door opened and you tumbled out into his arms. Before in the bar, Jake had carried you so carefully, making sure you were positioned comfortably in his arms. There was no care or regard for your comfort this time. Now, he placed his arm under your knees and shoulders, letting your head hang down loosely and making the world turn upside down as he lugged your body around like a lifeless sack. 

Whatever he stuck in the water bottle must have been slightly different from what he gave you in the bar because while you couldn’t even manage to turn your head or lift your finger, your head wasn’t swimming like before and your vision was clear. 

Tears rolled up your face and up into your hair as Jake carried you up the driveway towards his front door. You were too weak to call out or struggle against him and, once he got you inside his house, you knew there was nothing to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to you. 

As he opened the door, you silently prayed that what he said earlier was true. While you knew you needed to know what happened tonight to recognize the monster hiding behind the toothpick and perfect smile you saw in the seat in front of you every day, you didn’t want to remember a second of what he was about to do to you.

Jake stepped into the darkness of his house and the door slammed behind you.

[nishaxeleazar]

closed starter for @reidhalstead

It had taken him ten minutes. Ten fucking minutes to get to the theatre and by that time, Nisha was fighting the exhaustion that flooded her body. If she was to guess at what Nolan had injected her with, it would have been some form of sedative. Most likely with verbena in it. Which meant, she was going to pass out soon, and the last thing she wanted to do was fall asleep in the presence of her fledgling. She had made him, yes, but she didn't fucking trust him.

When she heard the door open, she quickly stood up from the chair, forcing herself to perform in front of Reid. To pretend that she wasn't weak. No. She wasn't weak. She was strong. Formidable. She could manage until she got what she needed from him. She had to.

"She's just sleeping." Nisha said as she took a side step so that he could look at his youngest sister, sleeping soundly on the couch. "She has lost some blood but not enough to do damage. It seems as though our dear friend, Nolan, took care of her." Nisha tilted her head to the side. "For the most part, anyway."

After a moment, she cleared her throat and turned to Reid. "We made a deal. Your sister is here because I saved her. For you. Now... I need something from you." And I'm not going to ask twice.

[its-my-whump]

Whumptober 02

“I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.” | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

You don't need to read the whole story. Everyday can stand for its own. And that poor soul has to suffer through every single one of them, I promise!

Hummingbird 02

(Story starts here)

There was the hart partition wall, than the cool tilts and now it felt... soft. Everything around was more soft, than it had been. Cotton touching his cheek. It was warm like him, too warm. Fingertips brushed over tightly nitted texture.

That were the first things that came to his hazy mind. A quiet humming somewhere above, but it sounded like being muffed by something, or far away.

His shoulder sank into that soft surface. He was laying on his side. His body was rocked gently, a static sound lolling him in. Something was moving. But it was so hot in here.

The humming was cheerish, sounded friendly, but far away.

Sam tried an attempt to open his eyes. They were so heavy. It was dim, little artificial lights, big sources of light passing above., everything blurry. Than the pain came, a pulsing in his head rushed in. At the same time a shiver overtook him. He felt freezingly cold all of a sudden. With a moan he tried to move away from the moving sources of light and the pain, closing his eyes again. Suddenly he felt sick to his guts. Or he just registered, because his body finally arrived in reality? It felt like he was coming down from the flu. His stomach was empty, this kind of sick-empty without appetit. His clothes stuck to his body, he felt soaked. But he must have cooled down again and now was shivering slightly under the blanket, he just realised its existence.

Every muscle in his body seemed to be made out of lead. Rearranging his position was near to impossible. Another moan escaped him by the attempt. His head was hot and definitively going to explode soon. Everything was so blurry. He thought he was laying on a rocking boat.

The humming had shifted, was a bit louder now. A big, warm thing... a hand brushed over his forehead. It was grounding, it felt good, it was comforting in his state. Sam tried to open his eyes again. With every blink he registered more of his surroundings, but details still vanished in his blurry vision. He was looking through a fog. His body was rocked by another cold wave.

Apparently, he was in a moving car, not a boat. The little artificial lights, he had seen, were indirect lighting of a consol and the big one's were streetlights passing over. So he thought. It was more like a dream, or watching a movie with half closed eyes.

It was dark outside. Sam was on the backseat, his head on the passenger side, his feet behind the driver. Slowly his head put the pieces together.

'He had passed out in the club. Maybe, he was in a taxi on his way home?' His mind reasoned. "Home?" He whispered more to himself, then out loud. But his mind was too confused. He wasn't even sure if it was a question for directions or a wish. Sam felt miserable and really sick. Another shiver shock him, but his hands were clammy and digging into the blanket for some stability. A whisper from the front seat. He couldn't really make out the words or the meaning, but it sounded something like. "All.. these... years, I c..ll out... name, but y... won't c...ll back, till t..day." But that was making no sence. Maybe the radio was playing and he mistook it. His head was just too clouded anyway.

The hand on his clammy head was still slightly ruffeling his hair, it was heavingly cool on his hot forehead. Sam felt so miserable, he inwardly was longing for a hug. But he had no family anymore or a girlfriend right now, so his own arms wrapped themselves around his shivering torso against their own leaded heaviness. "Home?" His hazy mind formed and pushed over his tembling lips.

'Wait!... A Taxi?... But why would a randam driver touch him for comfort?'

Suddenly Sam's eyes widened in panic. The thought making its way to his muffed brain. His only natural reaction was to go completely stiff under that hand. He couldn't see for the hand was blocking his view of the driver. 'This wasn't a taxi. The interior was too fancy, the fabric too expensive. Taxiseats had another surface, easy to clean. Who's car was this?'

The hand on his head had stopped moving, as had the car. Around the passanger seat, through the windshild Sam could see a foggy red light. His heartbeat was hammering inside his chest, the slight shivering had suddenly turned into his whole body shaking from adrenaline. His breathing sped up too. He couldn't control his body going into full panic mode.

It was now or never. With his feet he pushed the blanket away to the other side of the backseat and his arms went up defensively. But his muscles were stiff, his arms and legs unnaturally heavy, his movements much too slow. He hadn't had really pushed the foreign hand away, as it only had stopped moving midair a few inches away from him. Sam's left grabbed for the doorhandle above his head, but his system was still flushed with whatever was in that drink and he was exhausted from puking his guts out.

The hand, that had been soothing, comforting, grounding him mere moments ago, was the exact opposite now. It came for him, but instead of pulling his hand from the door handle, it went straight for his left upper arm and wrapped around it like a vise. It pushed down on his already existing big painful bruise from his fall and encounter with the rumble on his work shift last night.* Instandly Sam's hold on the doorhandle losened and his complete arm went limb, when white hot pain exploded. His scream was muffeled, while he jerked his head towards his left shoulder fighting to controll that pain. Desperate puffs didn't really help to get through this cruel moment. He needed a second to brace himself, than flightmode took the upper hand again. He trashed and kicked, trying to pull away. The grip around his arm tightend, but Sam knew, this was probably his only chance. In his violent struggle, he bumped his own head against the rear passanger door.

The pounding in his skull had been overtoned by his panic reaction, but now it was back. He was dazed all of a sudden. His free arm went to his tuft reflexively. Over the concert inside his head he hadn't registered, that the hand around his already bruised arm was gone.

A sting in his left tight and the last remains of fight left him. His pounding head went into a stupor in seconds and he felt his heavy muscles getting even heavier. It was scary, but soothing at the same time. He couldn't react anymore, he couldn't fight, he couldn't move at all anymore. And he just didn't want to. His hand slipped from his head and fell down flabby. He didn't feel it hitting the floor of the vehicle. It wasn't a part of him anymore. His hammering heartbeat seemed to have been cut into half by whatever was injected in his leg.

His surroundings got blurry again. A last aspirated "Home?!" escaped his lips. Sam wasn't able to move his neck, so the only thing he really could see was a diffuse figure behind the wheel out of the corner of his eye, the head was looking at him, maybe some movement in his face. Sam really couldn't tell.

"Home? They don't care about you. Actually, there's nobody who cares about you out there. But don't worry my little hummingbird. I do."

The fuzzy traffic light changed from red to yellow. The man was humming and scarly it sounded soothing again.

The yellow blop turned green and than everything turned black.

TBC

Hummingbird previous / masterlist

*explained later (05)

[blxsscd-x-fxrsakcn]

"I can't understand you, you're slurring your words. What's wrong?" - Sach to Gabe

Head feels like it's stuffed with cotton. Tongue too heavy to lift. Roof of mouth; sides of teeth. Words hard to pronounce. Neck-ache felt down spine. Lips chapped. Jaw pops; stiff.

Somewhere, water drips. Machine whirring. The occasional rodent had crept in, kept company. Gnawing bloodied, moth-eaten shirtstrings. But that too, died.

Choked on own foolishness.

So did he. Screaming himself hoarse.

Blues unfocused. Hazy. Partial squint. Speaking felt like razorblades.

❝ Yo...You're...not...M-Mi...ke? ❞ No sensation in legs. Forearms bared; skin blotched. Prolonged period of infection. Fingers barely twitch.

All he'd known was darkness. And loneliness.

Numbing fear latches icy claws into heart. Ribcage far too small. Gasped breaths. Too little oxygen.

❝ D...Don...n't...know...y-you... ❞

[writtenbyariavargas]

Day 16

Semi-consciousness - Toshiro Hitsugaya ("Zombiegaya")

mind control cw, mind control tw, death mention cw, death mention tw, violence cw, violence tw, drugs cw, drugs tw, drugged cw, drugged tw, loss of will cw, loss of will tw

There was such a profound feeling of fog in my mind. The only thing that was clear were the commands that Giselle spoke. My body listened even though I didn’t want to. I had been stripped of my captain’s haori and forced to wear a Quincy uniform. I couldn’t fight back, the fog that seeped through each synapse, each electrical pulse making me unable to do anything but obey the Quincy girl. Her voice, her will, anything she wanted from me I obeyed without pause. It was as though my own will was caged behind hers. I didn’t even feel like myself, let alone feel much of anything.

I didn’t know if I were even technically alive but I moved when told to. I attacked when told to. I fought for Giselle.

Even with a part of me trying to claw its way out I was stuck in a state of just being conscious enough to obey. Nothing else mattered. My life did not matter unless the girl decided it did. Moments within the fog my mind screamed at me trying to get me to do something, anything, of my own will. To no avail my will could not push past what kept me under her spell for lack of a better word.

When she summoned me to fight against Madarame and Ayasegawa I came without complaint. My body complied with her orders. I drew my zanpakuto and attacked. The part that was still me begged to be let out, begged to stop fighting my comrades. Unfortunately the control that her blood had over me kept me unable to pry myself from it. My muscles moved of their own accord and I could see myself trying to kill both of the members from the Juuichibantai. I watched myself in silent horror as I froze Madarame’s leg, then stabbed him through the chest. I continued to attack him until Ayasegawa blocked and my violence turned on him. I didn’t give him a chance to even release his zankpakuto. If I could have told them to kill me I would have. During this battle that’s all I could think of what would stop me from killing my comrades. The battle continued and even though I held little respect for Kurotsuchi I didn’t truly want to kill him either.

I did what my mistress wanted, fighting and trying to kill her enemies. I could hear the excitement in his voice in how he wanted to use me as a new test subject in order to create new medicines. My body still moved, attacked, not stopping without an order from Giselle. Attack after attack, I started to feel something pricking my skin. Kurotsuchi had to have been doing something. The fog was still strong, but I was starting to feel something different.

He started to ask me what loop I was on, speaking as though he’d already given me drugs. He had. I realized it too late. I’d been following the orders given to me that even my own distrust of the captain was put to the side. He stabbed each of my limbs with his zanpakuto, consequently immobilizing them. My body tried to move, tried to fight back. There was no use. Even if Giselle ordered me to move, to kill him, I couldn’t.

“It pains me to give this to you when you’re unable to resist,” Kurotsuchi sighed and finally part of me was able to come out.

“No! Stop!” I begged. I hated to be at his mercy but he approved of my begging and injected the drug into my neck.

Pain radiated throughout my body. I screamed, cried out, but couldn’t thrash about. I felt Giselle’s control be taken from me, but replaced with the fog of Kurotsuchi’s control. My heart ached, begging to be free. All I wanted was to be in control of myself again. I didn’t want to be at the behest of someone else.

[hmyrine]

on everyone's soul this is what happened

[mostly-funnytwittertweets]

[eggdrawsthings]

It's the best decision I'll ever make

[boabel]

this is so shit i need [remembers suicide jokes are bad for my mental health] mouse bites to live

[wrentherainfall]

Look man, it was too perfect not to do, I was obligated to make this-

Anyways another drawing for my little series of dumb doodles, gotta keep the fandom well fed💪💪

[third-king-of-salmonids]

WORK HARD PARTY HARDER

[bamsara]

Concept comic for a scene I'm writing for Trod

Takes place in the before-Shamura and mass dissention arc. I think the menticide mushrooms would react horrifically combined with godhood. Instead of seeing things that aren't real, they see real things they're not supposed to

[secretidentie]

Tim for literally no reason: Hey Jason do yk where I can get some cocaine

Jason: Why tf do you need cocaine

Tim: I'm a teenage CEO why tf do you think I need cocaine

Jason: Fair enough. But I'm still not selling you cocaine

Tim: Why not? I just want to hang out with the other young finance bros

Jason: Hey dick head, tell your brother I'm not giving him cocaine

Dick: Tim are you okay? do you want to talk about this??

Tim: Uhg I'm fine. You're the one ones who said I should stop drinking coffee

Jason: and you thought this was a good alternative???

Tim: Come on I'll only do a little

Dick: Is this coz we spoiled the ending of wolf of Wallstreet

Tim: Why can't I just have some? You do!

Jason: No I don't

Tim: You're a crime lord

Dick: Yeah isn't it like part of the job

Jason: WHAT NO Stereotype much. I've never even seen cocaine up close

Tim: YOU'RE A CRIME LORD

Jason: Yeah not a drug dealer THERE'S A DIFFERENCE

Tim: I should have known your not cool enough to have drug dealer connections

Jason: OKAY YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GONNA BUY A FUCK TON OF COCAINE AND DO IT RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU JUST TO RUB IT IN

Dick: Woah woah that's enough both of you. No one in this house is doing drugs. If anyone talks about cocaine again I'll tell Bruce you said you want to start a new crack epidemic. He'll make you sit in at strangers AA meetings and read through old case files of ex dealers and their autopsies. Don't. TEST. me.

Tim: ............

Jason: ............

Tim: Can you sell me meth?

[its-my-whump]

Whumptober 11

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Captivity

Hummingbird 11

(Story starts here, if you like) previous

...

Sam was in and out of it for the next days, maybe weeks. At some points his mind resurfaced enough, that he was sure, that Grey was constantly drugging him, turning him into a string puppet.

Despite his hazy mind, he could feel his body getting stronger, healthier again. His ribs didn't ache so bad anymore. Exhaustion was slowly faiding. He couldn't really recall how, but Grey got him back on his feet.

Pictures, sounds, smells, sensations visited him for brief moments and were gone again, like fragments when you're really really drunk. He felt kind of drunk, but better. There was a soothing calmness inside of him. Grey redressed his wound, help him eat and drink and made him walk. And he help him clean up.

Apparently Sam almost really came back to himself and the thick fog in his mind was clearing, when he was stripped to his undies and set into a bathtube of warm sweet smelling liquid.

The thought alone should have been scaring him shitless, but it was okay. The person in front of him was Grey, but he was blurry, far away. Actually everything was foggy and pictures vanished too fast. He wasn't really part of this story, he just woke up to.

The foreign hands helped, were gentle, wouldn't touch indecently. He kind of felt like a child, the frightful adenture of the last days, weeks? forgotten.

Grey had removed the dressing from his burned skin just above his heart, revealing the scar tissue underneath. (*1) The wound where Sam had been touched with the cattle prod 3 times, was healing good. Part of the bruise on his left arm was shining brightly violett by now, but the edges were slowly turning green. 'Maybe it hadn't been weeks?' Fingertips touched the edges of his old scar, that was appearing underneather the burns and to the right, very gently, carefully avoiding the freshly agitated skin in the middle. Nevertheless Sam flinched in a knee-jerk reaction. His mind was really resurfacing.

In his usual soft tone, Grey asked him about that scar and how he got it.

Despite his condition, Sam replied with the answer, he had programmed himself to give for years. This chapter of his life had been closed a long time ago and he had thrown away the key. "Go-ot mugged a-fter ssschool." It was kind of a half-truth. His words were slurred, his tongue heavy.

The firm slap came out of nowhere. In retroperspective, it was the only real clear moment of these days of stupor.

"DON'T!" Thundered through the tilted room.

Despite the warm water he was sitting in, a cold shiver ran down Sam's spin. His cheek was stinging from the moment the big hand had left it again. Evil, dark eyes starring at him. He hadn't been able to point out that face in a crowd right now, but he would never forget those eyes.

Grey's voice was calm again only a second later. But that one bluffed command from before, betrayed the gentleness in the following statement.

"Don't... ever lie to my, hummingbird."

Sam had pressed his hand against his stinging cheek. He was stunned, but even more so a flash of fear ran through him.

Nevertheless, his drug-flushed system predominated that feeling once again only heartbeats later. He let the man pull his own hand away from his face to brush over the hot cheek with a wet washcloth. Sam was lulled into the false comfort of the moment, the dulcet voice pushing him deeper into compliance without Sam ever noticing.

"Let's try again, hummingbird."

Sam's mind was floating, he was lost in those gentil eyes, soothed by the sound of that voice. 'He hadn't felt this save in years. He was like that father he never had.'

'Still, something was off.' A spark of doubt enflamed in the corner of his mind, but he hushed it instantly. 'Should he really tell this man? How did he know, it was a lie anyway?'

This, this intimite safe moment, was just too good, to be true, he would cheerish it, as long as possible. The realisation, that the drugs were messing with his insticts, escaped him.

"Stepfather." Tumbled from his tongue. Sam couldn't have stopped it, even if he had wanted to.

A sad look, genuan sympathy in those eyes, Grey was really interested in him as a person, at least Sam's mind was longing for it to be true.

Foreign fingertips brushed over the scar above his heart again. Sam didn't flinch this time. A hand raffled his hair comforting. "What did he do to you?"

A little of his self-preserving senses had resurfaced and Sam hesitantly shook his head. "C-can't!"

The facial expression on his counterpart was understanding, a slight nod. "You can tell me anything, little hummingbird." Single tears had started to overflow Sam's lids. His head shook more eagerly now. "Bad-d timsss. Waaant to go ho-oome now."

The hand had disappeared from his chest and put itself around his jaw, comforting. A thumb brushed away the tears on one side of his face, while the other hand was leaving his tuft until both cupped his face.

"Don't be afraid. I'll make sure, no one ELSE ever hurts you again. If you tell me, I'll bring you home."

Sam was completely lost and too out of it, to recognise the little, but very essential peeks in his counterparts voice. Feelings of angst and despair from his past were fighting against the soothing and broadly shown comfort and the promist safety of home. "Promise?"

His subconscious was screaming at him, that something wasn't right, but he let himself fall for it anyway.

"I promise, MY little hummingbird."

If he hadn't been so out of it, he may have recognised, that Grey never asked him about the long scar on his arm, where he had broken it or the one on his leg. (*2) Never asked about the unnatural hole above his kidney or mentioned the still visible reminder of whipmarks on his back. (*3)

Grey picked this particular scar above his heart to ask about for a reason. The psychological reason to finally break his precious little mess. So in the end he could be the one to pick up the delicate hummingbird sitting between the scattered remains of his broken soul. And it seemed to be working.

Sam's lips parted, but it cost him a moment to articulate the words.

"H..hee said, he had to carve the fear of god into me." Sam hold the man's look, his expression had suddenly changed from desperate into angry. But his face cupped by Grey's gentil hands let his fascade crumble fast. More tears streaming.

And then he told him ... everything. How in his past all the lights had gone dark and his hope was destroyed for good. How, he was pressed to the ground by that evil man, not only overpowered physically, but emotionally. How his biological mother abandant him in his most vulnarble moment of his still young life. How he made it through days of pain and agony. Always feeling alone in this cruel world. How he needed to be hospitaltized and almost faltered from a septic shock. How he was admitted into the fangs of social services and how it never ever got better for him.

Sam hadn't been this emotional in years. Probably, he hadn't opened his gates this far ever. The drugs were messing him up completely. And the part of being a captive, constantly drugged; on top of it all, him almost dying, twice, did the rest, turning him overly emotional.

At first there were only silent tears, an occacional whimper, until he settled for heartbraking desperate sobs. The big warm hands never leaving him.

At some point everything got lost in a haze and the last thing he could vaguely remember was being pulled into an embrace.

TBC

Hummingbird masterlist

@whumptober-archive

How Sam got those scars (*1) (*2) (*3)

and who he actually is

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🔗 Sachiel 🔗

The canteen tipped just enough to let a few droplets of water fall into the archangel's mouth. Sachiel's smile deepened. He wanted to make sure his prey was hydrated, or at least hydrated enough to be able to enjoy the symphony of screams he was planning to extract from the brother that stood before him.

"How sad," Sachiel murmured, keeping his tone gentle, caring, full of everything he was not. What a fun little game this was going to be. "I'm family, Gabe. One of your many brothers lurkin' 'round the Hell hole. You definitely look like you've seen better days." He chuckled, lifting the canteen again.

"What have they done to you? Who did this?" Who did he need to give some pointers to? Whose work was this sloppy? Why weren't they still enjoying this delicious, weak, helpless archangel?

Some primal part rejoiced. Water! Thirst! Drink!

Chains tug left. Right. Gentlest of oscillations. Biting in wrists. Darker bruises. Burning. Always burning. Empyrean steel. Forearms exposed; bandages stained. Sickly bubbling of flesh. Pus; inflammation.

Vision swims. Shadows. Light. Head wreathed in flame. Tongue laps wetness. Flicker of something breaks through. Cold's a knife edge. Sharp. Too sharp. Painful.

But I want more. More of - hope? Was this hope?

Knows his brother's hand. Strong of will. These are not those. Their voice is kind. They gave him water.

Will they release him, too?

❝ R - rel...rela...ted? F...fh...family. Kept... ❞ Sudden tickle in throat. Wracked with hoarse cough; dust stirred. ❝ Julian. Lyrae. F - fused...an...ang - angel. H-human. Dyad. ❞ Breath hitch, long-winded inhale. ❝ Tried to...possess v - vest...vessel. ❞

Legs locked in place; otherwise, collapse. Tubing; wires connect clunky machinery. More shackles. Leather melted by electrified metal.

Sensation's like thousand tiny locusts; always there, always surface-level.

@featherbrainedangel