#past beating

[whumpacabra]

25. Instigator

Angst, military setting, toxic friendships, ableism and assault [a character touches/leans on/grabs another character’s mobility aid without permission], past captivity and torture mention, past beating and humiliation [forced to strip], past character death mention, briefly implied past noncon

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As much as Elias enjoyed the familiar bustle of the mess, Harrison was right. Eating lunch in the courtyard was so much better than sitting on those awful benches under fluorescent lighting. Here the air was clean and fresh, if a little dusty from the troops running drills in the dried turf.

Harrison, still on a limited diet to account for his starvation, had long since finished his measly helping of mashed potatoes, mushy peas, and mystery meat. Elias was savoring his plate; he never thought he would miss mediocre cafeteria food so badly.

“Hbomb!”

Harrison startled at the shout from across the courtyard, a smile splitting his face as the three stooges bobbed between annoyed patrols.

Parker was leading the charge, stocky and well built enough to dive between the other soldiers in the field like a plow tilling soft earth. Gale followed in his shadow, steps light and measured - showing off his childhood training as a ballet dancer. Moe stumbled after them, glasses knocked askew but saved from falling off his face with sweaty hands.

“You’re looking better, Gomez.” Gale huffed, leaning on Harrison’s wheelchair.

“And I’m chopped liver?” Elias complained half heartedly, an echo of grief in his chest. He missed Thatch and Clements and Orson, his clique even before the taskforce organized. Harrison still had friends here, and the look he shot Elias bled with sympathy. Parker didn’t notice.

“Nah, you’re just still lookin’ the same as before Walker.”

“Glad to know a little torture didn’t damage my good looks.” Elias couldn’t quite strangle his misplaced discomfort with humor.

“Well, it didn’t do you any favors, that’s for sure.” Gale quipped, Parker snorting while Moe cracked a nervous smile, scrubbing his glasses clean with the hem of his shirt.

Elias felt bad for the kid - he was a Private like him, but just behind his cohort. Parker and Gale seemed to tolerate him for his use as a scapegoat, but Moe was just happy to be included. It never sat right with Elias.

“You two got any juicy gossip from the higher ups?” Parker hummed, sitting on the bench between Elias and where Harrison’s chair was parked. He told himself the spike of resentment and stress was just the separation anxiety acting up.

“What do you mean?” Harrison’s laugh was tense, a hand weakly failing to bat away Gale’s arm where it leaned on his chair. Harrison and these three were close before the taskforce. Time didn’t appear to have made the heart grow fonder.

“Haven’t you realized?” Gale finally stood up, gesturing to the throngs of soldiers standing around between drills and marches. “Entire base is on fucking lockdown.” He huffed, as though offended. “First she says we’re on disciplinary leave then we’re on lockdown. Can’t a bitch make up her mind…”

“Watch it Gale.” Harrison’s growl was genuine, and the medic threw up his hands in mock surrender.

“I was just - ”

“No wonder you’re on disciplinary leave.” Elias huffed, poking at the plate on his lap. Moe was still hovering in the background, silent.

“Hey, it was for you, jackass.” Parker shouldered him gently despite his strength. He knew not to push the still recovering soldier too hard, so Elias took his insult lightly.

“What are you talking about? Had to defend our honor like some kinda damsel?” Harrison batted his eyes at Parker, but Gale’s dry hum had a venomous undercurrent.

“Someone had to make sure that fucker knew his place.”

“What?” Harrison’s voice was shaken, and Elias knew he had the same sinking feeling in his gut. Parker shrugged, leaning back on the bench with far less righteous satisfaction in his voice.

“Went down to holding. Roughed up that Wolf you brought back.” Harrison was looking at Parker with abject horror, and he tried to backtrack accordingly. “Just a few hits. Didn’t even break nothin’ - he took it like a champ.”

“You cracked his fucking ribs, jackass.” Elias shoved back a little too hard, swallowing back the anger in his throat.

“I - I pulled my punches, unlike someone.”

“Oh, shut up. You think he took his jacket off just to keep a bit of blood off it?” Gale crossed his arms over his chest, finally taking a step back from where Harrison was seething in his chair. “He wanted a little fight to take the edge off and we gave it to him is all.”

“You had him strip, G.” Moe’s soft voice made Elias suck air through his teeth. Gale would give the poor kid hell for - wait, what did he say?

“I joked that he was being a tease. Fucker didn’t have to - ”

“You made him strip?” Elias’ breath shuddered, words so quiet he wasn’t sure anyone would hear them. He wasn’t hungry anymore. In fact, the cafeteria food wasn’t sitting right with him.

“Hey, he’s the one that took off his pants - I, I didn’t make him do anything.”

“You saw the shape he was in and you still kicked the crap out of him?” Harrison had turned in his chair, but Elias didn’t need to see his face to know the disgust and anger painted on his face.

“Yeah, considering the shape you are in.” There was a thread of discomfort in Gale’s voice, but he was still defensive. Righteously convicted, he continued with a twinge of sincerity. Or at least Elias hoped it was sincerity. “We’re your friends, H. We thought you fucking died out there.”

“And that gives you the right to strip and beat a prisoner who didn’t even fight back?” Harrison’s head whipped back to Elias, eyes bright with anger. “I want to go back inside now, Elias. Are you done?”

“Yeah. Yeah I think I am - ”

“Oh my god Hbomb chill - we’re sorry alright, Gale - we took it too far.” Parker, at the very least, didn’t try to stop Elias from getting up. But Gale grabbed hold of Harrison’s wheelchair.

“Hey!”

“Dude, seriously, he fucking tortured you. Doesn’t he deserve a taste of his own medicine?”

“He’s had plenty now let, me, go.” Harrison’s glare was poisonous, and with Elias rounding on him, Gale finally took the hint and backed off. Not without rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Fine, fine. Christ, what’s the matter with you? Defending that fucking monster - Stockholm syndrome much?”

“Gale. That’s enough.” At least Parker could keep that jackass busy. Elias pushed Harrison along the path, plate left cold on the bench. It wasn’t like he had the stomach for that mediocre cafeteria slop anyway. Harrison’s muttering was simmering with rage.

“Merrick should have told us - ”

“Protocol. He can’t rat out every asshole on base as a captain. Abuse of power and all.”

“As though they didn’t fucking abuse their power.” Harrison’s stage whisper dropped quieter as they passed a patrol. “God. Elias do you think they - do you think he thought - ?”

“No. And yes.” Those idiots were assholes, but they weren’t monsters. Not like that CIA schmuck that butchered Wolf. But the Wolf wouldn’t know that - he clearly didn’t expect anything less - and god, they weren’t giving him great evidence to the contrary.

“If they knew - ”

“They can’t. Merrick said this stays between us, Fergie, the Frizz and Briggs. And Mav too, I guess.” Elias didn’t like how the temperature dropped - just slightly - as they left the warm glow of the sunlight and entered the medical building.

He hoped the Wolf was having a better afternoon than them.

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

Taglist: @stargeode @genuineformality @i-eat-worlds @light-me-on-pyre

@risk606 @sacredwrath

[jellicle-shifters-au]

as promised, some post-barge demelurina snuggles

(mentions of past beating, trauma responses, nonsexual noncon touch)

-

she gets this now, too, the softness of the mattress after weeks spent sleeping on a hard surface with nothing but her arms to support her head, when she had access to them at all. she understands demeter’s perpetually aching hips and shoulders in the first few days home, the way the mattress holds her gently and takes the pressure off those spots and the way her head sinks into the pillow—a real one, not the thin, crunchy thing they’d given her in the hospital.

she gets that now, too.

she gets a lot of things.

like demeter’s insatiable hunger, her fear of getting into the shower after being forcibly bathed by people she didn’t want touching her, the memories that came back with the sound of rushing water and the feel of phantom hands across her body and rough fingers in her scalp.

growltiger is a fleeting thought at the back of her mind.

she understands metra’s inability to let people touch certain parts of her: bomba hasn’t been able to let demeter wash her hair, no matter how badly she wants it, because all she can feel are cruel fingers dug into her scalp, dragging her across the harsh wooden floor or yanking her head around to force her to look them in the eye.

she understands why metra wears compression shirts.

and she understands why the bed felt so good to metra when she first came home. she understands why she never wanted to leave it.

it’s so soft.

it’s so warm.

bomba hasn’t been warm in…a long time.

she snuggles under the blankets, the comforter pulled up to her nose, curling as tightly as her battered body will allow; there are residual aches and pains and things her muscles and bones won’t let her do yet, may never let her do again, after the vicious beatings she’d received, but the doctors tell her that with enough time and rest and care, she’ll stop feeling those aches and pains.

some days it feels like she never will.

she closes her eyes, pushes her nose into the pillow, inhaling demeter’s fading scent, and sighs contently into the fabric. she’ll do her stretches later, but for now, she wants to enjoy this.

bomba? metra’s voice drifts from down the hall. it’s what she does, now, to tell bomba know she’s coming. too many days spent unable to see, barely able to hear, and with the memory of griddlebone leaning against the door frame while growltiger washed her still fresh in her mind have made it necessary for demeter to announce herself before she comes in the room, and far enough away that her announcement won’t spook bomba.

mm? bomba opens her eyes and lifts her head just a little as metra steps into the door frame. her wife smiles at her from across the room, and the very sight of it makes bomba feel that much warmer.

enjoying yourself?

bomba nods. mmhm.

there’s a moment of silence. bomba wriggles gently further into the mattress, and the floor squeaks under demeter’s weight as she shuffles back and forth, chewing at the inside of her lip. can i join you? she asks finally.

bomba blinks twice, then smiles. i would love that.

demeter comes into the room and crawls into bed beside bomba, pulling the covers up to her chin. she opens her arms, and bomba wastes no time shuffling forward until she’s finally in her wife’s hold. demeter’s arms hold her close, mindful of her hair.

she doesn’t like people touching her hair.

is this good? metra asks.

bomba nods, pushing her nose into metra’s shoulder, the familiar silky feel of her compression shirt. mmhm. 

metra gently rubs her cheek on the side of bomba’s head, marking her with the familiar scent of the jellicles. i’m here, bomba, she whispers. i’m here.

metra, bomba whispers, her jaw smarting. i love you.

metra holds her just a little tighter, kisses her on the forehead and whispers, i love you too, bomba.

[crimewave420]

[artist-rat]

fine dining at the blushing mermaid. with the boogieboys

[welcometogrouchland]

[ID in ALT] I've made posts before about Talia/Dick co-parenting Damian moments (will never happen but let me dream) and this came to me in a vision. Took me ages to finish for some reason 😭 and then even longer to post

[astrowarr]

i haven't watched pearl's episode yet. but there's something to be said about the fact that she knew scar well enough to know that, when it was the two of them, he would have too much pride to accept a sacrifice.

she doesn't want to win, and she tells him at first before she quietly tucks that secret back into its shell after scar's indignant reaction to her first attempt at self-sacrifice. she lets scar forget about it as they kill gem, and then as scar kills pearl. at no point does she try to say here, let me give this to you. she knows scar, but she also knows the pain of an ending like that.

but she misses a few swings, doesn't she? her legs don't move as quickly to duck away from his arrows. and isn't that familiar? isn't that something like a cactus ring, with two unrelenting fists and two half-hearted ones: a fight with two unwilling participants, a fight that was over before it ever really began at the insistence of one of its patrons

pearl is all too familiar with the sting of sacrifice, but then on the other side of things... scar knows all too well the tragedy of gifted victory, doesn't he?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji goes to Lotus Pier (No relation to the AU of the same name)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[flawlessflesh]

cold comfort

[benevolenterrancy]

("Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this." -- paraphrased from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket)

[roachingurcoach]

he was shocked here. before, he could see his soul coming from miles away, had the time to prepare himself for his presence, to compose himself. this was a surprise.

[theseventhveil1945]

KILL BILL VOL. 2 (2004) dir. Quentin Tarantino

[buggachat]

ok guys paris under siege is actually legitimately better than mrots (gameplay wise). like you can actually move the camera and the characters actually semi-respond to your button presses. this is so much more of a game than the other one

[ryvols]

“after everything you’ve done…..how will you sleep at night?”

(lyrics from ‘six hundred strike’ from epic the musical)

[ryonello]

I SUPPORT WOMENS WRONGS 🗣🗣🗣

[bold-embrace]

We better get a much needed morales family hug at the end of the next movie OR ELSE (btw read this fic. bless)

Bonus messy doodle below but it’s got major spider verse spoilers!‼️‼️‼️

Earth 42 miles better get a hug and a kiss from his mom too

[alllsunday]

Sabo’s not being serious though he’s just forwarding from Garp (who is not being ironic) . But in all seriousness Sabo would probably say “GOOD MORNINGGGG” and scornfully demean Ace’s lack of energy and the fact that he said good morning at 1:37pm in the afternoon. Anyway, this continued for about 2 years before Ace realised he was not in the family group chat and was not receiving these from Garp anyway. Suddenly everything made sense.