#prompt: trust issues

[serickswrites]

Crime

Warnings: betrayal, stabbing, blood, wounds, trust issues, fade to black, guns, mention of murder, knife

Whumpee walked into the warehouse Friend had asked to meet them at. They weren't sure why Friend wanted to meet them there or what Friend had to show them, but they were more than willing to meet them. That's what friends do after all.

They froze as they walked through the door. This was wrong. This was all wrong. They opened their mouth to call out, ready to run, but a blinding, sharp pain in their back stopped them. The pain radiated through their body.

Whumpee's trembling legs began to give out, but strong arms wrapped around them keeping them from falling. "Isn't this amazing," Friend Whumper breathed into their ear.

Whumpee's head was swimming. The warehouse was filled with various stolen goods, guns, and other instruments of crime. What had Friend done? "H-H-Horrifffffyinnnnnnggg," Whumpee managed to stammer out.

"Ah-Ah, none of that, Whumpee," Whumper said, tightening their grip on Whumpee. "I want you to understand exactly why I brought you here."

Whumpee opened their mouth to protest, but Whumper twisted the knife in their side. Whumpee screamed their pain, their world whiting out.

"The police are on their way. They'll be here any minute."

"C-C-Catchhhh........yyyyou-ou-ou-ou," Whumpee gasped. They could feel their blood flowing down their back. The police had to arrive in time to save them. They just had to.

"That's where you come in my friend. The warehouse is in your name. Everything here is in your name. You stole all these things. You used these guns to kill all those people. You, Whumpee. Not me."

Whumpee didn't have the energy to be horrified. Didn't have the energy to scream their anger and horror. They barely had the energy to keep their eyes open.

"And the best part is," Whumper said excitedly, "I'll get the credit for catching you. For stopping you. Isn't that a wonderful thing?"

"NNNNNN," Whumpee managed to whisper. Their head was swimming and everything was becoming hazier and hazier.

"Don't worry, Whumpee. I'll be sure to visit you in jail. I'm sure they're going to be finding evidence of your crimes for years to come."

Whumpee heard the sound of approaching sirens. Heard the sound and hoped the police would see Whumper for what they were. Hoped that they would be saved. They hoped all of these things, but realized it didn't matter. Their tenuous grip on consciousness wasn't enough to keep them awake. As they slipped into oblivion, they hoped that someone would see Whumper for the monster that they were. And that they wouldn't pay for Whumper's crimes.

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

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

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

"Unhand me!" The stabby robin shouted just before Danny deposited the colorful vigilante onto the floor of his parents' lab.

The bird boy was back on his feet in an instant and had he weapon drawn, glaring at Danny as if he were the source of all his life's problems. "Whoa, whoa, hold on a minute." Danny spoke up, hands raised in mock surrender, "I don't wanna fight!"

"Then why did you kidnap me?" Robin tracked the boys hand as it moved to rub the back of the teens' neck.

"Well, ya see -" the teen said nervously, "I saw how nice you were to that ghost bunny, and you hid it from Batman."

Robin tensed, "Are you blackmailing me?"

"What?! No! I wanted to ask for help! Somethings wrong with my dog!"

[whumpster-dumpster]

Love it when Whumpee is in a vulnerable/suggestible state and the whumper uses a facade of a person they trust to convince them to do something that person would Never actually want them to do

[questions-about-blorbos]

This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

[unforgivenn]

Traumatized whumpees!!!

I absolutely adore when whumpee they're just so.. so traumatized that they think they're just so so scared of every single thing around them. Whumper has broken them so deep that they don't even know what to believe now and what not to. Fear is the only thing they know. Even after being rescued.

Like just look at this

The whumpee huddled in the corner of the dimly lit room, their knees drawn up to their chest, trembling with fear. Each creak of the floorboards sent shivers down their spine, and every flicker of the dying candle intensified their sense of impending doom. They knew escape was futile, trapped in the clutches of their merciless whumper. Tears streaked down their dirt-streaked cheeks as they prayed for a sliver of hope to pierce through the darkness.

Bonus points if they don't believe Caretaker that they're Actually safe. How could they be anyways? After everything Whumper had made them go through how could they ever believe anyone? They're all lying. All of them. Just to laugh at whumpee once he actually believes them.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Whump Dialogue #5

"Do you trust me?"

"After all you've done to me... I don't know if I can."

[moonlight0934]

Trust Issues

Damian watches through half open eyes as his family eats breakfast around him. He keeps his guard up, a feeling of anxiety and immanent threat choking him. He hasn’t slept in days, the smallest noise snapping him back to full awareness. Bruce looks over at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Why aren’t you eating, Damian?”

“I am,” Damian immediately lies.

Bruce looks confused at that, because of how obviously not true it is. Damian puts a singular piece of strawberry from his fruit salad into his mouth. Then he stands up, slipping out of his chair.

“Come on, Damian. We’re doing so good this morning. Tim is even eating.”

“Father, Tim agreed because he’s still asleep. He was eating, then he fell asleep with his bite of eggs half out of his mouth.”

Bruce turns to Tim, who is in fact asleep with his spoon only half in his mouth.

“Tim, dear, you’re going to choke,” Bruce says, taking the spoon out of his mouth.

Tim startles, pulling back.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

Damian slips out of the room while Bruce is reoccupied with Tim. He heads up to his room to get dressed for school, though that’s the last thing he wants to do right now. He sighs as he walks into his room to grab his uniform. It’s only a few minutes before he’s coming back down the stairs, and heading for the door. Damian can hear Bruce trying to get Tim to fully wake up so he doesn’t fall face first into his eggs.

Damian walks out without letting anyone know that he’s leaving since someone will insist on driving him to school. The walk is quiet, though that’s only because it’s so early that no one with good intentions is out right now. Most kids aren’t allowed to walk, that’s why Damian usually isn’t either. It’s not that they don’t know he can take care of himself, but they have appearances to keep up. They have to look like they’re prissy rich kids, though Damian hates how he has to act every time he leaves the house without being in costume.

A few of the small time muggers eye him as he’s walking past, but his glare is enough to put them off till he gets past them. It’s still quiet as the light manages to get past the clouds, lightening the sky. Damian keeps his hands in his pockets.

The school is empty too since he’s early. The teachers are the only ones there, and they all seem surprised to see him as they pass him in the halls. He heads straight to the cafeteria to wait on everyone else to show up. It’s quiet, so he pulls out his drawing pad and colored pencils.

A feeling of apprehension creeps up on him even though he’s alone, almost as if something is going to jump out of the shadows. After a few minutes, Damian jumps to his feet. He looks around wildly, but doesn’t see anything. He darts out of the exit attached to the cafeteria, leaving his bag, and not even sure where he’s going.

His vision starts going in and out, his hearing cutting out completely. He redirects himself to head back home, but doesn’t even get a few feet before passing out. When he wakes up, he can’t recognize where he is. It looks like a booth of some sort. People are talking right outside.

“Man, it sure took a long time for that toxin to kick in. We had to follow him for almost eight days,” one complains.

“He was in his house for a lot of that time, shut up,” another replies, sounding annoyed.

“Still, you’d think it wouldn’t be that useless. That’s a long time.”

Damian blinks, looking down. He’s zip tied to a chair, rope wrapped around his wrists and fingers on top of the zip ties.

Someone kidnapped me? They gassed me with some sort of toxin? That must be why I was feeling the way that I was.

He pulls one hand out of the ropes with a smug grin.

Now, time to get out of here discreetly so as not to ruin my secret identity. I need to call in backup.

He pulls the other one out, then begins taking the zip ties off of his wrists.

As long as I don’t get caught, I should have no issue with this. Even if they think I escaped somehow, I could still come back in costume with my family. However, there’s only one door.

Damian walks over to the door, feeling much heavier than he normally does. He cracks the door open soundlessly. It’s dark outside, but it’s not hard for him to tell that they’re in an abandoned amusement park. The Ferris Wheel is looming over the buildings, stalls, and shut down attractions.

The guards are less than a foot away from the door, still distracted with their conversation. Damian slips out of the doorway, making a beeline for the next attraction. He makes it there without incident, giving him time to look for his emergency beacon. Luckily it’s there, still tucked into the heel of his shoe.

He clicks it before straightening back up. Then someone grabs him by the collar. A large man shakes Damian. He almost punches the man in the throat, but remembers why he can’t in just enough time to pull back. The man punches him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He feels the man throw him towards the two guards that were watching him originally.

One of them kicks him in the face immediately. This goes on for a while as they take turns hitting him while he just has to lie there and take it. Eventually he tastes blood coming up his throat, and at this point, he’s not even sure where it’s coming from. Though it doesn’t really matter if he’s throwing it up or coughing it up, either one is pretty bad.

I wonder what they wanted. They sure did do a lot to just kill me.

Someone stomps down on his fingers, breaking them. He doesn’t let out a single noise.

That’s probably why they’re still going. I haven’t screamed or cried like this is a big deal. I wonder if they’re going to figure out how badly I’m already hurt.

It’s only a minute later when exactly that happens.

“Hey, I think you’re going too far. He has to be alive to use him for ransom,” the second man calls, sounding worried. He also sounds far away, and Damian doesn’t feel like listening anymore.

A few more sounds bring him back from the edge, even if just a little bit. It sounds like a scuffle of some sort. Then someone grabs his head, startling him. He cracks his eyes open, seeing Dick above him. He’s in costume, his mask covering his eyes.

“Hey, Baby Bird. Just hold on, we’re going to get you to a hospital. You’ll be ok.”

“You came,” Damian whispers, blinking his heavy eyes.

“What do you mean? Of course we did. Don’t you trust us?”

Damian doesn’t respond, letting his eyes drop closed.

“No, Damian, open your eyes!”

Dick shakes his shoulders, but everything continues to fade. He doesn’t feel it as Dick keeps shaking him, and eventually stops hearing him too. Then nothing.

[moonlight-stalker]

# 29 dcxdp

Danny is being fostered by Bruce Wayne he would be very grateful for it if the Wayne family did not work with the Justice League and only took him in to get information

[lanternlightss]

Yaaay writing requests ^^. Do you think we could get the old mondstadt gang (everyone lives) reacting to venti after ascending do godhood? 👀. I think it'd be interesting >.<

As beings of Anemo, there is little reason for wind wisps to partake in the act of breathing. Why would they, those made of that same air as the one whirling around them, need to? This remains true for Venti, even after they had taken a form alike to Cecil’s own.

If. If only Venti did not take a liking to breathing, pretending—for a moment—that they have lungs to use, the subtle up and down of their chest, at first a conscious choice that you could see being made, moving towards one they do without thought. Something human. Something mortal. It makes them happy, to be able to mimic such abilities, such mundanity.

This is, to say, that he is impressed they have learned how to do it whilst they sleep (their wings twitching intermittently); as he feels the occasional soft breaths (he counts—a full minute of complete stillness, followed by a shuttering, jagged exhale, repeat) being blown across the hand that they rest beside, having used his left arm and waist as a pillow during the night.

He does not mind, not at all. Had sat up to place his right hand atop their head once he was not blinking sleep from his eyes, playing with the strands.

Briefly, he entertains the thought of humming them a lullaby, or perhaps, a tune to celebrate this moment, that they are all here, together, still. He dismisses it the moment he begins to toss the idea around, knowing that those same people included in that “they are all here, together, still” in the room with him (Amos, in her own makeshift bed beside him—Cecil “borrowed” the one he is using, truth be told, he should be in the room one down—with Valentina besides her sat in a chair, and Felix standing at the entrance) would kick a fit if he even dared to strain his voice further (orders from the healers.) How elated he had been when they told him he could still talk, simply had to be quiet, low.

“…how asleep, are they?”

Aha, speaking of his dear companions.

Cecil inclines his head towards Felix, though his eyes never stray from Venti. “I do not believe they will be waking up, for a long while.” (Thank the winds for that, they deserve it—he had heard that whilst he and Amos’ injuries were being attended to, the rest of them had been running themselves particularly ragged dealing with the everything.)

He hears Felix sigh heavily in response, and the shifting of fabric. Shoulders, presumably, fell? He brings his eyes up to scrutinize—the man looks one awful sway away from collapsing.

“Good, that means we can have this discussion in peace.”

That … particular phrasing does not inspire a good feeling. He forces himself not to show outward unease at the words, instead, curling the hand in Venti’s hair to touch at their forehead, and lightly gripping what he can of the sheets with the other.

“Are you sure we should be having any discussion? Both you and Valentina should get rest, too—you look a dead man walking, Felix.”

And—there, Felix’s relaxed shoulders seem to tense, his jaw clamping and working in a gritted motion subtly. Cecil is waved off, both in tone and by the fluttering of his hand, “I will rest easier after this.”

He chances a glance over, to where Valentina has scooted to the very edge of her seat, clutching at her knees in a white-knuckled grip, with furrowed brows. Amos, meanwhile, is propped against pillows, slightly slouching, her bangs and unbraided strands casting a shadow over her eyes, as she burns her gaze into Felix.

The first to speak of them is Valentina, leaning forwards: “Which discussion have we not already taken care of?”

Felix does not look away from Venti, but a grimace overtakes his face, angling his head in a way to hide himself behind both his hair and the large fur of his cape. He seems rather… uncomfortable, now—his crossed arms pulling further into his chest, one hand flexing. It continues to stay this way, even when gesturing to where Cecil’s wisp cuddles against him, and speaking the words, “What do we do about them?”

Her eyes harden, back straightening in an instant. “What is it that you mean.”

(Cecil is quick, to check on Amos. Her bangs have now completely covered her eyes, and he cannot truly gauge a reaction. He worries the sheets between his fingers.)

That discomfort shines, in the floundering of Felix’s limbs—his arms flinging outwards, his hand waving about as he grasps for words. “The whole point of this was that we did not want a God to rule over us, the way they had! And then, whatever it is of that…. those heavens, has decided we were wrong in that thinking, that they sent us another God to deal with, not a moment’s peace from the previous? Are we to never escape from the divine?”

Valentina stands, her mouth twisted into a tight-lipped frown, both her fists raised to her sides and clenching. She is stopped from going farther by Amos raising an arm in front of her.

A brief spark of irritation whisks throughout Cecil’s chest, and he wishes Felix had chosen a better moment to do this—Amos, as well, is not supposed to talk above a quiet voice, or for long periods of time. “I fear we would have encountered divinity whether we wanted to or not—tell me, why is it that many had told us of a frozen land, yet when the storm vanished, the snow was fading?” Her arm shakes imperceptibly, “Had it not been for … what decision it was, that transpired before we succeeded, we would have come to face the God responsible for declaring the war.”

(That is, to say nothing of their neighboring nation and Boreas’ wolves….)

She turns, and, he notes, that for the first time since Venti’s presence had made itself known (when they had near silently glided into the room, the door creaking shut just so, with Anemo slowly dissipating from their form, and playfully tousled Cecil’s bangs in a light breeze) Amos looks directly at the God, who has huddled closer—they seem to be trying to lay themselves over all of him—whilst the conversation had gone on.

Her eyes seem to soften, staring a few seconds longer, then dropping her attention to the end of the bed. She turns away, her arm falling to her lap, hands lacing together and nails gently clinking against each other.

“Perhaps we should count ourselves fortunate, that of all beings to ascend, it was the Elf.”

Felix scowls and presses his back against the wall, the sound of his cape sliding across it echoing, nearly drowning out the even quieter grumblings of his, “Fortunate is not the word I would use.”

How terrible for him, that for as far as he is from Cecil, his words still ring clear—words that cause that spark of irritation to flare into a burst of small flames, flames that have to be forcefully smothered out. Over the little time that the bard has not been able to walk the grassy lands, has he forgotten? Nothing, not a single noise, escapes from those who always listen, who keep their ears pinned to the striking chords of the winds.

His eyes narrow, bordering on a glare. And this is not quite shaping to be a “discussion”; would it be a proper one, they would actually be going somewhere, and not talking in practically circles.

“Why unfortunate?” Felix’s head snaps to him, and Cecil (pushes the flames) risks skimming his hand to where Venti’s right ear is, holding his palm there (a useless gesture, really, yet he does it anyhow). “You would not start anything if there was no value to be had of it—so, please, what is it you wish to truly say?”

The man opens his mouth, pauses. Cecil continues to stare, lowering his chin, his brows drawing together, upward, and the edges of his mouth threatening to fall.

Boots scuff against the floor, when Felix titters side to side, considering. A breath rushes out of him, harsh. Then, as if it were a leaf fallen onto still waters and sending ripples across the surface, he utters: “If they turn against us—what are we to do?”

Try as he might not to (flames slipping between the gaps of his fingers), Cecil lurches forward, and halts himself rather awkwardly halfway through it hearing Venti make an indescribable noise. He looks to them, seeing them curl inward, their brows knitted, wings dazedly moving to shield their body. A wince pulls at him, as he adjusts back to where he was (almost to, he should say—positioning himself to hide them from Felix’s view, his torso bent over them), and the hand covering their ear runs to their hair, massaging; they start to relax from it, wings spreading, and nestling their face into his waist.

(A splendid sight, yet… a bitter feeling forms, coating his mouth.)

Scratching at where two strands—resembling the ones they had as a wisp—sprout, he presses, a hiss to it, “Turn against us..?”

He holds his hands in the air, by his chest. “I know. I know, I have seen them.”

If the emotion of “incredulous” could be humanized, Cecil would be the perfect role, right then. Has he? Has he??

Admittedly, for most of the time he has been awake, he can count on one hand and two extra fingers how much he was fully lucid during it. When the pain constricting in his chest was not clouding his vision, when there was no fog laid over his mind, his surroundings dizzy, his limbs feeling inexplicably heavy. Shoving this all aside, however—during those lucid moments, and finding Venti waiting for him, their entire demeanor brightening at their locking of eyes; he noticed how terror and apprehension threaded through their being.

He does not think they have a capacity to harm—not for those they love, not for those they have a branch of trust to—by the fact that they cannot bring themself to hold his wrist in a firm grip without panicking of potentially “breaking him.”

(Or that they, wind now trapped in a bottle, a shell for them to be tied to, try next to everything to compact themselves to the size they once were. From curling into a ball on the wooden chair, from using their wings to hide themself away, from bowing and crumbling in the cradle of his palms.

How they are bigger and powerful, certainly, yet the world around them still remains so much more than they are.)

Felix slumps. “It would only be as a precaution. We should be prepared—”

There is a clanging of armor, signaling Valentina’s steps inching towards Felix. When she speaks, her voice is stern, tinged slightly by bafflement.

“No, you are aware, just as I, to what they are capable of! They are listening to the people, and doing what they can for them!” Her hand clenches, metal shuddering. “And even… they have been this way, they stopped at nothing to keep my clan safe, out in the frozen barrens. We should have seen a sign by now if they were to change, the winds are simple creatures. There is no reason for this precaution!”

“Are we to lay all our trust in what was? Their knowledge is more! They are not such a simple creature! They know intimately the hopes and dreams of mere humans—what that does. They have become privy to how far mortality can go, to how much a human can take before their life is snuffed from them, and now they have the ability to do something about it.”

He sweeps a hand, jerkily, to the two in bed, during the last words.

Cecil bristles. Their injuries are not to be used for matters like this. No one should have expected that death would not be nipping at their heels during the revolt, that they would not have to grab on to the world of living and dig. A retort readies on his lips, lips pulled back, only to—still.

(Oh. There is no air being blown across.

Oh.)

Valentina side-steps to the other side of Amos’ bed, hackles fully raised, a righteous glare upon her face. “You truly know nothing of the wind, then, if you believe they would willingly go back to those restraining—!”

“Enough.”

They both startle. Cape, whipping. Armor, clanking.

“Enough,” Amos repeats, the words sounding as though they were scraped from her throat. “The both of you… shall we have someone watch over, when you are outside here? You have swung knives.”

In unison, their shoulders hunch. She draws a soft breath, half-watching Valentina stride over to grab the canteen of water from the side table, offering it to her—while Felix seems to attempt to meld into his cape. She takes it into a tight grip, the tips of her fingers trembling, but does not bring it to her lips. Opting to swish the water inside, instead.

“A godhood is delicate,” taps at the canteen, the sound reverberating, “Especially one at … at the very beginning, of their divinity. A sign of change would not be in mortal lifetimes—it drips, one by one, slow.”

She turns to face them, once more. Trailing from where Venti’s wings flutter, the sleeves of their robe half splayed over the bed, to where Cecil is furled around them, a few pieces of hair strands falling over his eyes as he bows further at her stare. Eyes meet, hers, tinged in an old pain and weighted by exhaustion; his, bordering on guarded, cracked with pleading.

Underlying all of that is an understanding.

(You can never quite understand a God’s thinking, will only get to see the glimpses of what layers that sit just underneath the surface, a scratch of it, but love—

A God’s love, their eyes and arms locked around you, is something all encompassing.)

“We should continue to offer them the kindness they gave us.” Another tap, another tink. “Whatever path they follow down, whatever they choose to do, hundreds or thousands of years after this—at the least, they will remember having us by their side. Should they give an inkling, now, however—”

“All these what-ifs,” Cecil murmurs bitterly, withholding a sneer. “Could we, say, let them take their own steps first? They hardly have a proper footing!”

The puff of air that escapes her is almost amused. Her gaze drifts downwards, where the water of the canteen sloshes as it is tipped to her mouth. She sets it gently into her lap, after, a chorus of clinking coming from the repetitive thumping of her fingers.

“Of course.” She hands the canteen to Valentina, and the trembling of her limbs seems to have worsened. The blunt ends of her nails press into the palm of her hands, briefly, and she goes to pull the bed’s cover up to her chest, hiding her arms by tucking it over her fists. Then, “I have not seen you receive any medical care, these past days. Have you been shirking?”

Venti’s wings puff, a minute flinch going throughout their body. He pets at their hair, twirling it between the gaps of fingers—he had been checked on the day before his wisp had visited, and watched as they checked Amos’ health, too, quietly asking if the soreness had lessened, after the healer left, and her reply of rolling her shoulders and commenting that it does not feel like she is being crushed.

“Hee, I was hoping you would not catch that…” He nuzzles into their head. Backs a bit away, nary an inch or so, and brings his hand to their jaw, stroking his thumb along their cheeks. Venti tenses, brows scrunching. He continues, mock whispering, “Psst, Miss Amos revealed one of my secrets, can you believe…? Quite mean of her, hmpf! You would be my knight and defend my honor, would you not, Venti? My dearest?”

There is a pause, where he can see them debate with whether they should “awaken” or not. He waits, humming lowly—and is rewarded when two glittering green-blue teal jewels blink up at him.

“Knight..?”

“Yes! I shall gather you a shield, so that we can deflect her peddling—”

“My deepest apologies for not wishing your wounds to infect.”

Cecil leans to stick his tongue at her (she wrinkles her nose in jest), feeling more than seeing Venti sit taller, their hands moving to grasp at his wrist. A perturbed expression greets him when he turns back to them, searching him for anything critical. His heart squeezes, flips, squeezes.

He reaches out to brush his hand against a braid, tracing the poof part that is held together by a band. Hopes that the twinkling in his stare is enough to convey Do not worry, a “go along.” The ruffled feathers of their wings start to smooth out, fluttering about, as they squint at him—message received. “How many missed?”

“Only one session, I promise. My bandages… may need replacing, a little,” ducks his head, bonking against their forehead, and offers up a gentle, crooked smile. “Walk me back?”

They graze their own hand over his, holding it loosely. Nods, and lets go, standing from the chair, using their foot to push it away farther. Cecil shakes off his arm as he yanks the cover down to the end of the bed, throwing his legs over the side, the soles of his feet hitting the floor. Venti holds their hand out for him to take, pulling him up (though, he notes, they keep their fingers intertwined tightly with his.)

“You will be going?” Felix questions, uncrossing his arms.

“Mmm. I believe Amos has had enough of my shenanigans.” He waves his hand, stepping in front of Venti, having them still out of Felix’s view.

“… if you need any he—”

“Fret not, I have the most wonderful guiding wind!” He leans into Venti, as subtly he can, beaming. They are besides the man, now, and he tugs them closer to the doorway. “We should be on our way now, might be able to catch a healer along our journey.”

He waves to Amos and Valentina, receiving waves back (though, on Valentina’s part, seem slightly reluctant to see the both of them go.) They both skirt around the doorway and down the hall, where Cecil exhales, his shoulders sagging.

If they wish to still discuss such a topic, fine, if that is what will bring them ease in this environment. Everyone is on edge and wary, equally they are relieved and excited. He has seen how some shuffle around the new God, confused how to interact with the wisp. But if they wish to do it while the person they discuss is there, unaware, they are welcome to be his guest to explain to Venti why that topic involved which of the best ways to stab them in the back was—especially when there are more important issues that should be focused on! That warrior, in particular….

Urgh.

He squeezes Venti’s hand, placing his head upon their shoulder.

“My darling knight, I love you no matter what.”

…they squeeze his hand, ears flicking, and wings puffing once more.

[skyward-floored]

Me: okay I’m going to actually work on figuring out ideas for other whumptober days, I will succeed I will prevail—

Day 2: >:)

[kybercrystals94]

Trusted

Read here on Ao3!

Angstpril 2024 | Day 9 | Prompt 9: Trust Issues

Rated: G | Words: 445 | Summary: The issue of trust…or lack thereof. | Character Focus: Wrecker, Crosshair, Omega 

“Can you hear me? Wrecker?” 

Wrecker groans, the voice - one of his brothers…he can’t tell which one - throbs like a percussion inside his skull. It’s excruciating and soothing all at once. He’s dying, but he’s not alone. He won’t die alone. 

“Stay with me, Wreck, you’re going to be fine,” his brother says. 

His eyes are open, but he only sees darkness, a consuming shroud of a thing. He’s blind, he can’t even see his brother’s face one last time before…

“Dying…” Wrecker croaks. 

His brother scoffs, and he’d know that deprecating sound anywhere. Crosshair. 

“I just told you you’re fine,” Crosshair says, but his voice is reedy. 

“Cross…” Wrecker manages. He reaches out blindly, and thin fingers clasp around his hand, gripping so tight Wrecker wonders if Crosshair thinks it will keep him from falling into the abyss of death. 

“Do you trust me?” Crosshair asks. 

Wrecker swallows around the pain, the fear, the sorrow. He nods, the tiny movement agonizing. 

“Good. Then you’re going to be fine. I promise.” 

Crosshair doesn’t have any sort of cosmic power to keep his word. Wrecker clings to it nonetheless. He trusts his brother to the ends of the galaxy. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Omega curls into Wrecker’s side. She’s grown in the months they’ve been apart. She’s taller, her hair is longer, and her face has lost some of the soft edges that made her look so young. But the light in her eyes has dulled, her expressions have sharpened. She’s seen and experienced things on Tantiss that haunt her and have shaped her. 

“I missed you so much,” Omega whispers. 

Wrecker chuckles brokenly. “I missed you more.”  

Wrecker’s gaze darts to the sniper sleeping in one of the fold down bunks. Almost as soon as Hunter got the Marauder into hyperspace, Crosshair had wilted, as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

The weight of keeping their sister safe.

He’d gotten Omega out of Tantiss when Wrecker and Hunter couldn’t. Omega had given them an abridged version of their escape. She couldn’t have done it without him. Not a chance in sith’s hell. 

“Do you trust him?” Wrecker asks, a rumble of a whisper. He doesn’t have to clarify who. 

Omega twists in his one armed grip, looking up at him so that their eyes meet. “Yes,” she says, her voice soft and confident, no discernible waver of doubt.

Wrecker remembers when he trusted his brother that much, with every last particle in his being. That trust had shattered long ago, but maybe it could be gathered up and rebuilt. Omega trusts him, and Wrecker trusts Omega. Maybe that can be enough for now.

Almost 1/3 of the way through Angstpril! 😱

Prompts Completed:

@the-little-moment (1. Homesick / 4. Longing / 7. Bad Dreams)

@just-here-with-my-thoughts (2. Frozen / 5. Self-Surgery / 8. Lost Battle)

KyberCrystals94 (3. Broken-Hearted / 6. This isn't going to work / 9. Trust Issues)

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Tag List: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @merkitty49

[whumpster-dumpster]

When Whumpee's loved ones learn something new, some secret or vulnerability or maybe even something that should have been common knowledge about them while Whumpee is mind controlled by Whumper. The implications that Whumpee is more open with an enemy while under duress than they can be with them

[nana-mizu-shiki]

So this is just a prompt for a second chapter of the fic I just read called Lesson Learned By Blacksheeperton:

Ok, but I have the idea that Cass would come back and notice, but not know what to do. Tim tells Kon and he is PISSED because he understands what Tim is underreacting to, as well as how scared he is of the bats. Kon comes up with a safe word he will listen for for Tim because there is no way he will actually ever use the distress signal unless it was to make the bats believe he will. Tim and Kon end up hanging out as civies and one of the bats (like dick or Jason or something) see them and tries joining them out but Kon is like super protective/passive aggressive. And it keeps happening whenever they see Tim with his friends and they don't know why. Except Cass. Cass knows. Cass knows but doesn't know what to do. (Hold up I am rolling. And I am rolling fast here-) Jason ends up snapping at Tim's "friends" (Kon or Bart or smth) and asking what the he// is up when they're just trying to be nice to their little brother's "friends". Then they snap back. Saying about how Kon was right and Tim should've left them long ago for all the sh¡t they put him through. That Tim shouldn't have been so complacent when pretending he didn't know they want him dead. That they should've tried harder to help Tim realize that feeling unsafe and unwanted isn't something he should feel is a constant and will always be. That they should've helped him the first time one of the bats tried to ki// him. After the tower. After Bruce's disappearance. After the new Robin came. After they started giving him lessons like his bio parents. And just- the batfamily finding out just how truly little Tim thinks they care. How he feels he can never trust. That he never even considered that Bruce could ever think of him as one of his sons. And Tim... he just stands there like he knew all of this. Like it was normal. That he was only annoyed that the plan he was using wouldn't work now that they knew he knew. It's fine though. Tim always has contingencies for his contingencies. Even contingencies for those. It's fine. Red Robin will just work alone. Like Red Hood did. He'll take up Kon's offer lightly and let them help him while staying in Gotham. He'll deal with the Bats trying to ki// him just like he deals with everyone else who has tried. Make them think they win. Make them think he's fallen for the lies. Let them get close. Pull the rug from right under them. Although this time will be a little different -Gotham wouldn't survive without the Bat after all- there are many ways to pull the same trick. He's not just Red Robin After all. He's Timothy Jackson Drake. And he's played this game since he was a toddler. He'll let you get uno before stacking four +4 cards and winning with two red +2's. He'll trap you with the contraption you made. Let you hurt him before revealing everything you've done to those you cherish most. Turn you into a monster to everyone and yourself. Because well.... That's just how it works. How it always has. He Won't Lose. He's Learned His Lesson

[whumperwithwings]

Whumptober Day 2

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

Caretaker stormed into Whumpee's hospital room, arguing with an orderly as they slammed the door open.

"Whumpee! Why didn't you tell me that you were going into the woods this late? You know I would have picked you up. Now look at you, in the hospital. You even ruined your coat!" Caretaker exclaimed, shaking their head in disappointment while Whumpee glanced away.

"You didn't pick me up before." Whumpee's response, while short and curt, was undeniably correct. Caretaker could vividly remember not picking up the phone when Whumpee had called, late at night, looking for a ride to avoid the dangerous forest around their house.

"I know, I'm sorry Whumpee, but can't you please trust me? I'll try to do better next time. I promise."

[whump-or-whatever]

Imagining a Whumpee who is rescued by a Caretaker who they’d never met before. As soon as they’re safe Whumpee is just waiting for Caretaker to tell them they’re on their own or pass them off to be someone else’s problem. Meanwhile, Caretaker is expecting Whumpee to want to go off and do their own thing at some point. They both know that they have no real obligation to each other. So both of them are waiting for the other to leave while secretly hoping they won’t.

Just that angsty lack of communication and fear of getting their hopes up just to be let down, probably a result of both Whumpee and Caretaker having trust and self-esteem issues. Yeahhh.

[pixiestickie]

also jamiazu prompt fr u to talk abt: who do u think kissed the other first. how do u think their first kiss played out

RUBS MY EVIL HANDS LIKE AN EVIL MOSQUITO ON A SUMMER MORNING

okay so ill get to the point my awnser is jamil im sorry . i dont know how many people here will agree with this post but i am no longer a coward on tumblr (LIAR)

i mostly feel like this because I can’t picture azul as being straight forward about that sort of thing. i can picture him as meticolously planning and practicing everything beforehand and then just failing miserably because jamil is jamil.

sometimes i think abt how azul never had a friend to socualize with in his childhood (other than the tweels which are FAR from normal friends). if he ever crushed on someone as a kid he 100% never acted out on it because of how insecure he was (and is) with all that bullying he received

also azul is at disadvantage because jamil is always so grumpy around him how is one supposed to know if its ok to kiss this guy without getting punched in the face

the whole thing about jamiazu is that jamil needs to learn how to trust azul (abd actually azul does as well but thats another can of worms that needs its seperate post) which is why i can only see it happen post-book6 jamil

once he learns to overcome his horrifying trust issues induced by his horrible job . thats when he kisses azul ^_^

i really went off topic with this post cuz it was supposed to be about a first kiss but i deserve to wtite paragraphs and be shameless i think

anyway my vision is: they’re hanging out alone in an unplanned place like maybe away from a scarabia party? maybe in the fucking hallways bathrooms away from classes? just not a planned date or anything because i have delusions (i feel like jamil would do it in an unplanned context on purpose). at first they’re just standing there alone with lots of tension, with azul trying to chat like he always does but jamil is deep in thought about how he feels about everything. jamil concludes that he is so tired of depriving himself of what he wants and of holding himself back. that he should go for that kiss because he deserves it ^_^ and azul explodes and dies……. u think about the rest…….

i hope you like my vision i should not be allowed to write crimge when sleep deprived ❤️❤️❤️