#team as a family

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1363

Whumptober #13: Team as a Family

The mission goes south - of course the mission goes south. 

Your whumpee takes a brutal hit intended for one of their teammates. (Maybe they jump in front of the bullet. Maybe they shield them from an explosion, drink from the poisoned cup, or take a knife intended for the teammate)

After neutralizing the enemy, the teammate is immediately at their side:

[“Oh god, stay with me!”]

It’s bad. Bad enough for an extended hospital stay, and for the whumpee to spend a nerve wracking amount of time unconscious. When they inevitably do wake, however, they’re confused, disorientated and in alot of pain. They’re so used to waking alone, that they’re shocked to find their bed lined with people - the team. 

[“Hey bud, how’re you feeling?”

“Wha- what are you-.”

“We’re here to look after you, dumbass.”]

During the whumpee’s recovery, each teammate sacrifices their comfort to help where they can. They keep watch at night, fetch water, prepare food and change bandages. They give kind words of encouragement, and reassure the whumpee they’re not a burden. As the whumpee drifts in and out of consciousness, they hear fragments of conversations: quiet apologies, whispered promises to stay with them, and heartfelt confessions about how they’re family, now and always. For the first time the whumpee, who has always kept a distance, begins to realize how much they truly mean to the team.

[“Just rest, we’ll do everything else. We have everything covered, all you need to do is sleep.”]

Finally, the whumpee feels what it means to be cared for, to have a family - one that would go to any lengths to protect them, just as the whumpee would always protect them.

[chaotic-orphan]

Whumptober No. 13

Team as a Family

Familial Curse // Multiple Whumpees // “Death will do us part.” (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

*~*~*~*~*

Whumpee was the team’s ace in the hole. Their trump card for whenever the team got into too tight a spot of bother. He hadn’t even been an original member of the team. It was a chance encounter one day when Villain’s team attacked Whumpee’s favourite coffee shop, where he had been waiting in line, scrolling on his phone, minding his own business.

Time stopped and Whumpee looked up, frowning as the patrons and the noise all melted away into silence. Whumpee narrowed his eyes, scoffing and looked around. He heard voices outside his local and stomped out of the queue, throwing the door open to see Villain performing an evil monologue to Team Leader and the other members who were frozen mid fight.

“And there’s—”

“Hey! Asshole!” Whumpee yelled, rolling up his sleeves. Villain stopped short, his brain short circuiting and glanced over at Whumpee. Whumpee kept advancing on Villain without a care in the world, tapping his watch on his wrist. “You gonna wrap this up anytime soon? I’m missing my first coffee of the day here.”

Villain blinked at Whumpee. “How are you moving?”

“Probably from fucking anger at not having my caffeine intake for this time of the morning! Now are you gonna reset time or do I have to kick your arse to get what I want?”

Villain looked at Leader and scoffed. “Can you believe this guy?”

Whumpee cracked his knuckles. “Fine. The hard way.”

Needless to say, time restarted and Whumpee got his coffee after he was finished with Villain. After he had sat down at the coffee shop he noticed Leader walk in, searching the room for Whumpee. When her eyes landed on him she smiled a bright grin and walked over. He merely raised an unimpressed brow at her.

“Howdy.”

“Not interested.”

Her demeanour dimmed. “You don’t even know—”

“You want to convince me to be a hero. Not happening.”

Her smile returned as she slid into the booth. “Actually I wanted to buy you a coffee to thank you for today. It’s not everyday a citizen steps in to help us.”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“It usually is,” she replied candidly, despite Whumpee’s hostility towards her. “Though Villain just keeps coming at us with new tricks that are impossible to counter or predict.”

“My heart bleeds.”

Leader tilted her head, her warm smile still on her face. Blue eyes bright and glimmering with cat like interest. “How come you were able to move through his time freeze?”

Whumpee shrugged. “Just lucky I guess.”

Leader’s smile sharpened. “You don’t play coy very well.”

Whumpee stared at Leader, and Leader stared at Whumpee. The silence between them filled with the bustling of the cafe, of traffic outside the window and footsteps falling on the pavement.

“Tell you what,” Leader said eventually. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a card, sliding it across the desk to Whumpee. Whumpee didn’t even look at it. “If you decide you want to amount to something more than you are right now, call me. I’ll show you around the base, no strings attached, show you how we operate.”

Whumpee nodded though he had no intention of ever calling. Leader smiled. “Good. Great meeting you—?”

Whumpee stared at her blankly. Leader got to her feet, head dipping. “Do I not even get your name?”

“It’s Whumpee,” Whumpee said, though he didn’t know why he offered it. It’s not like he owed her anything.

“Nice meeting you, Whumpee. I’m Leader. I hope you call.”

And Whumpee did call, eventually. After he realised his talents were being wasted on him, that the world would benefit if he put himself out there. Defending the city from villainous threats and crimes.

The family he found in the team was an added bonus. The camaraderie and friendship and being needed and wanted by others, it was addictive and he coveted it. He wanted to lock it all down in his chest and never let them go, never stop loving them and being loved in return.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Other Villain and his crew were attacking the docks. Other Villain was easy to manage most of the time, but Nemesis? Nemesis wasn’t supposed to show up. They didn’t have any intel that Nemesis was even in the city, which is exactly what Nemesis had been counting on judging by the smirk on his face when he appeared.

Second’s eyes blew wide and he turned to shout in warning when Other Villain blew sleep dust into his face, grabbing Second’s face and slamming their hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming. Whumpee sensed them before he saw them.

He turned and Nemesis was grinning at him. The last time Whumpee had seen Nemesis he had just helped Leader defeat him. Whumpee remembered Nemesis’s yellow eyes locking onto him with interest. It was the first time Whumpee had exposed himself during a fight with a villain who got away in the end.

“So nice to see you again, Whumpee!”

That drew the rest of the team’s attention. Rogue was the first to turn and advance on Other Villain who dropped Second’s unconscious body to the floor.

“Rogue! Don’t!” Leader cried and Rogue froze, their lips pulling back into a snarl.

Whumpee stepped out of cover finally. He was caught, and he walked over to Leader, standing tall beside her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Leader said to Nemesis. His yellow eyes flashed with mirth, and a horrible knowing that sent Whumpee’s guts twisting themselves into knots.

“Oh, I know. I was away on business, retrieving something for our dear friend Whumpee here.”

Whumpee knew it was true before he said it. He could feel something, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. A draw of magic, pulling at him, like a moth to a flame, guiding him back to the source. But that… that couldn’t be… they were dead. Nemesis must have done something to make them feel this.

But how? A voice in his head asked. How would he know?

“Walk away, Nemesis. Unless you want us to flatten you again,” Medic growled. Nemesis laughed.

“You flatten me? You couldn’t do it before Whumpee here, Medic. The freak, the abomination.�� Whumpee swallowed the lump in his throat at the words. They still stung, even after all these years. He was an abomination. A magical anomaly. Magic had no effect on him. Pyrokinetics couldn’t burn him, Time wielders couldn’t freeze him. Other Villain’s sleep dust didn’t put him down.

A chill carried on the breeze caused a shiver to run down his spine. Whumpee sucked in a breath and turned on his heel, towards the source, towards the flame and he froze.

“Besides, I’m doing a good deed, Heroes. Reuniting family.”

Whumpee stared at the man in front of him. He was older than Whumpee remembered, jeez, he must be in his thirties now, but there he was. His brother. His hair was longer, and he had a stubbly beard, but he still had the same weathered stormy eyes.

“Whumper?” Whumpee whispered, his voice cracking. Whumpee took a step forward. “Is this real? Are you— are you really—?”

“I’m real, Whumpee.” Whumper said. His voice low, raspy, as if he had emerged from a forge that was billowing smoke into his throat all day. “I’m alive.”

Tears sprung to Whumpee’s eyes. “I thought… oh my god. I thought you were all dead. I thought— how are you alive?”

Whumpee stumbled forward as he spoke, closing the distance between them. Leader grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He snapped his head towards her, betrayal painting his features. “Whumpee. He’s here with them.”

“He’s my brother.”

“I know.”

“You can’t— let me go, Leader.”

“She’s right, Whumpee.”

Whumpee looked back at Whumper. He had straightened. The dark strands of hair that weren’t tied back into a bun at the back of his head obscured his eyes, making him look more menacing. Whumpee stopped struggling against Leader. He even fell back a step.

“Whumper?” Whumpee asked. His voice terribly small.

“Whumper was kind enough to follow me back once he found out what you were doing here, Whumpee.” Nemesis said behind Whumpee. “Running around with heroes. What would your dear uncle think?”

“Fuck the king,” Whumpee growled, ripping his arm out of Leader’s grip. “He didn’t do anything for me when he found out what happened to us, Whumper. You can’t side with Nemesis! I’m your blood. I’m your little brother, you— I looked up to you.”

Whumper levelled his gaze to catch Whumpee’s eyes in his snare. The weathered grey turned bright like headlights and Whumpee couldn’t look away. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

“Whumpee what—” Leader began at the same time that Whumpee pushed her back behind him and said, “get behind me!”

Whumper spoke the old tongue and Whumpee screamed as a spear of pain shot through his temples. He reached up and grabbed his temples, trying to walk through the pain but on his third step it became too much and his leg faltered. Whumpee fell to one knee but shot up again.

“Whumper!” Whumpee cried, gasping as he fell again. There was a hand on him and he could feel more than hear Leader speaking to him.

“Don’t bother, Leader,” Nemesis said as a particularly piercing scream came from Whumpee. Leader turned, glaring over her shoulder at Nemesis. He was closer now, strutting tall towards the pair. “Whumper told me of a certain curse on Whumpee’s family. Royalty, did you know that?”

Leader glanced down at Whumpee who was panting, eyes screwed shut and trembling. No, Leader thought, she didn’t know that.

Nemesis continued. “There’s a myth about the first royals. Two brothers. One who could resist magic, the other who could control it. Can you guess which one ruled in the end?”

“Whumper! Please,” Whumpee cried. Then he went boneless and Leader got pulled down with him. He stared unblinking at the sky, tremors ripping through him every few seconds. A hand grabbed Leader by the hair and yanked her back to her feet.

She clawed at Nemesis’s grip but he didn’t falter, his other arm wrapping around her throat and squeezing. She struggled to get out from under him, but he pushed her back flush against his front. She could only watch helplessly as Whumper advanced on a barely conscious Whumpee.

“Thank you for your assistance, Whumper.” Nemesis said with a smile. Whumper grunted in response as he crouched beside Whumpee.

“Don’t touch him!” Leader spat, kicking at Whumper and barely missing him as Nemesis yanked her backwards before her foot could make contact.

“Don’t worry about him, Leader,” Nemesis cooed. “You’re coming with me.”

Leader threw her weight forward suddenly, but Nemesis recovered quickly and this time when he grabbed her he started to squeeze her throat. She struggled in his grip, but that only tired her out quicker. The last thing she saw was Whumper throwing Whumpee over his shoulder and turning his back on her.

“That’s it Leader, just relax.”

No air got to her lungs and she succumbed to darkness that brushed her vision, her eyes shuttering close in the arms of her enemy.

[crimsonwolf715]

Death Will Do Us Part

(POV Bruce) 

Family dinner is chaotic as ever. Bruce smiles as his family eats and argues about whether or not to bet on the next villain to get out of Arkham. Of course, he doesn’t agree with the idea of placing bets on that, but it isn’t hurting anybody. Unless they break somebody out to win the bet, but that isn’t likely. The house shakes and everyone practically jumps to their feet. They can see vines through the roads outside, so everyone heads down to the Batcave. Bruce goes over to the computer and puts a call through to Commissioner Gordon. 

“What’s the situation, Gordon?” Bruce asks. 

“Everyone’s out of Arkham. We’re completely overpowered,” Gordon answers. 

“We’re on our way.” 

“Thanks.” 

His kids are collecting their gear and getting ready. 

“Did all of you hear that?” Bruce asks. 

“Yep, everybody’s out of Arkham,” Jason answers. “Pretty sure we jinxed it.” 

“Do we believe in that?” Cass asks. 

“I don’t believe in that,” Damian replies. 

“I don’t either,” Tim says. 

“I doubt we did,” Dick says. “But let’s just deal with this quickly. I have something to attend to later.” 

“Like a date?” Jason asks. 

“Like none of your business.” 

“It’s definitely a date,” Tim says. 

“Focus,” Bruce demands. 

“Don’t worry, we’re still getting ready as fast as we can. Speaking of which, I’m heading out,” Jason says. 

They all head out and start taking on the inmates of Arkham. Bruce gets a steady stream of updates over comms that his kids are dealing with inmates and he updates him when he takes them out as well. 

“Ivy’s causing too many problems. I have the building she’s in,” Barbara says. 

“Nice of you to join us, Oracle,” Dick’s replies. 

“Shut up. My setup got destroyed so I had to get to the Batcave to assist.” 

She gives the location. Bruce looks at his location. 

“I’m close.” 

“I’m close too, so I’ll come assist,” Jason says. 

The two make it to the building and it’s definitely a floral place. Jason and Bruce have to cut through greenery to get into the building at all. Poison Ivy gives them a hard time, but nothing the two of them can’t manage together. 

(POV Jason) 

“We should get out of here, this building’s unstable,” Bruce says. 

Jason nods, so the two head towards the roof with Ivy. 

“If I can’t win, you two won’t make it out of here alive,” Ivy says. 

Vines sprout up and start exploding, rocking the whole building. The floor cracks and Bruce shoves Jason to the part of the floor that isn’t cracked. 

“Dad!” 

Jason watches as the floor crumbles away under Bruce’s feet. He lunges to grab Bruce’s hand and barely misses the mark. Bruce tries to catch himself on one of the other floors, but fails. He falls onto a large piece of a floor, which impales him. 

“Dad!” Jason cries out. 

“What’s going on?” Barbara asks. “Why are Bruce’s suit’s stats bottoming out?” 

Jason pulls his helmet off and throws it. 

“Jason?” 

“I’m fine,” Jason says through gritted teeth. “But Batman isn’t. Delete the feed from my helmet without looking at it.” 

“What?” Barbara asks. 

“Delete the damn feed from my helmet without looking at it,” Jason demands. “Barbara, do it.” 

“Okay, okay. I’m sending medics to your location.” 

A pause and Jason can almost hear his father stop breathing. 

“Jason.” 

“I know. Let the others know and I’ll get him to a safe location.” 

He turns his comm off and grips the floor. He spots Ivy, who got thrown away from the two during the explosions, but seems fine. He gets up and she looks terrified. She starts trying to get away and he shoots her hands and feet. She cries out and starts cursing Jason. 

“I should kill you for still breathing,” Jason growls. “But I’m better than that now. You are gonna pay for killing him, but you deserve to live and suffer for it.” 

Jason drags her out of the building by her hair and officers are heading towards the location. 

“Red Hood?” 

Jason throws her over to the officers. “You might wanna cuff her.” 

He turns and heads back into the building. He walks over to Bruce’s limp body and he feels an overwhelming amount of anger. He stuffs it down and as gently as he can gets Bruce out of the building. After getting him into the Batmobile, he turns his comm back on. 

“He’s in the Batmobile. Send him home, Oracle.” 

The Batmobile closes and speeds off. Jason heads back to continue taking out inmates, turning his comm off so he doesn’t have to hear everyone’s reaction. 

{POV Cass} 

Cass is searching for villains when she comes across several people tied to a lamppost by their feet. She throws a batarang to cut the rope on the first person and catches them. When she does, she sees that the person’s eyes are wide and they aren’t breathing. Cass checks their pulse and realizes that they’re gone. 

Smoke starts spilling out all around her, so she tries to find the source. A metal orb with straw on it. Cass goes to grab something from her utility belt when someone takes her legs out from underneath her. Batman’s towering over her, completely decayed. She backs away and Batman crumbles to pieces. She pulls a mask on, searching for more threats in the suddenly dark world. Gotham’s been replaced by a metal room. 

“The darkness is where you belong. Killing people for someone who will never appreciate your efforts. They’ll only expect more out of you.” That voice belongs to her father. 

 Her father comes forward and she stumbles back. She starts searching her belt but can’t find any of the things she usually keeps in there. She closes her eyes and tries to focus, blood rushing in her ears. Her father’s getting closer, sword raised for a fatal strike. She jabs herself with what she hopes is the fear toxin cure and kicks her father away. 

Slowly, the world returns to what it should be. A grimy Gotham street with Scarecrow not far from her, getting up. Cass attacks Scarecrow, who tries to run. After a mostly one sided fight, Cass takes out Scarecrow. She ties him up and heads towards a police checkpoint to drop him off, still feeling the aftereffects of the fear toxin. 

{POV Damian} 

“Please help us!” An officer shouts when Damian drops down. 

“What is it you require assistance with?” Damian asks. “There’s nothing going on here.” 

“Goons are running loose in this area and Killer Croc keeps popping up and taking officers out,” the officer answers. 

“Does he?” 

Damian unsheathes his sword. He pulls up the manhole cover and stands by it. Once the goons come back, Damian starts taking them out with expert ease. He kicks the first goon into the sewer grate and can hear the audible crunch sound of Croc eating the goon. He continues to beat up the goons and then kick them in the sewer until Croc comes barging out of the sewer. 

“There you are,” Damian says. “I was starting to think that you were too much of a bitch to come and get me.” 

Croc charges at Damian and he dodges, slashing at Croc as Croc passes him. 

While the blade is mostly blunt, Damian can still easily kill someone with it. Croc would need more force and a pressure point, but Damian’s goal isn’t to kill him. It’s to incapacitate him. 

Croc goes headfirst into a lamppost and Damian snorts. Croc regains his senses quickly, then rushes Damian again. Damian and Croc go back and forth until Damian picks up the manhole cover and throws it like a frisbee. It hits Croc in the head, knocking him unconscious. After instructing the officers on what to do from there, Damian leaves the area. 

“Croc is accounted for,” Damian says. “I’m heading to the next one.”  

{POV Jason} 

“Am I close to any more villains?” Jason asks. 

“Freeze has been reported about a block from you,” Barbara answers. “You sure you’re good to keep going?” 

“I’m fine, Oracle. Give me the location.” 

She sends it and after looking at it, Jason heads in the direction. He walks into the courthouse Freeze is supposed to be in and it feels like the temperature has dropped at least ten degrees. 

“Well, Freeze is definitely here.” 

He walks into each of the courtrooms and barely manages to dodge a blast from Freeze’s gun. 

“You’ll never defeat me, Bat-Brat!” Freeze shouts. 

Jason pulls out his gun and starts shooting the dome around Freeze’s head. 

“What are you doing?” Freeze demands, ducking behind something. 

“Unless you wanna die here, you’re gonna surrender quietly,” Jason says. “I’m far past the mood to be lenient with you lot.” 

“What happened?” Freeze asks. “Doesn’t Batman normally keep you on a tight leash as his wild-child?” 

Jason pulls out a smoke grenade and throws it over the desk Freeze is hiding behind. Freeze runs out from behind the desk and Jason dropkicks him into a wall. Smoke starts spewing out of the grenade and Freeze looks confused. 

“All my grenades look the same to other people,” Jason offers to cure Freeze’s confusion. “I’m the only one that knows which one is which. So unless you wanna test your luck to see if I’ll blow you to hell, you might wanna surrender.” 

Freeze unclicks a freeze grenade and throws it at the approaching Jason. Jason kicks it away from him and beside a little frost on his shoes, is unaffected. 

“I’ll surrender,” Freeze says, putting his hands up. 

“Good.” 

Jason pulls Freeze up and handcuffs him. 

Even though it hurts to say, Jason says, “Batman doesn’t keep a leash on me.”  

(POV Dick) 

“I think you’re the only one with villains left,” Barbara says. “Everyone else is accounted for.” 

“Well, that’s nice,” Dick replies sarcastically. 

He’s having a hard time pulling his punches with the emotions flooding through his system, but he manages. 

Can’t deal with this right now. Dad’s dead and I’m here dodging being shot by two people that should be in a mental hospital.  

“The others are on their way.” 

“Beautiful. Everyone can watch me have a mental breakdown.” 

Dick’s fighting Penguin and Two-Face, who have decided that it is best to temporarily get over their issues so that they can beat him. They’re not doing very well even though they are technically getting along. Dick’s just doing flips around them, literally. Penguin tries to keep up with him, moving and shooting, but he just ends up falling off the roof. 

Dick throws down a net so Penguin doesn’t die on impact, but then turns his attention back to Two-Face. Two-Face shoots at him until he runs out of bullets. Dick runs forward to strike him down when Two-Face shoots Dick’s leg and his leg goes completely numb. Dick stumbles and falls. 

“Had this little beauty waiting for me to try. I’ve wanted to use it for a while, but never found the right moment. Pays off to go and get gear before engaging, doesn’t it?” Two-Face asks. “Alright, do we deliver the kill shot? Let’s flip the coin.” 

Dick turns towards his leg and starts trying to beat life back into it. 

“Ooo, luck is not on your side, Nightwing. Goodbye.” 

“Grayson!” 

Dick turns in just enough time to see Damian take a shot meant for him. It would have killed Dick instantly. Dick attempts to get up but his leg won’t let him. Damian stumbles into him and Dick wraps an arm around him so he doesn’t go anywhere. He grabs Damian’s sword and throws it. It goes through Two-Face. Dick turns his attention to Damian, who’s attempting to stop the bleeding chest wound. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Barbara, we need medical attention right now. Damian’s injured.” 

“It’s on the way,” Barbara says. 

“You’re gonna be fine, buddy.”

(POV Tim) 

Tim jumps onto the roof of the building where Damian and Dick’s trackers are and finds a horror scene in front of him. Damian and Dick are covered in blood and Two-Face is dead not far from them. Tears start pouring down Damian’s face as he clings to Dick. While Tim doesn’t want to, he can’t seem to look away. Dick’s crying and trying to soothe Damian. Tim can feel Jason and Cass’ presence beside him, but he can’t look at them. 

“Ssh. It’s gonna be okay, Dami. I swear, everything is okay.” 

A pause in sobs and the silence is broken by Damian quietly asking, “You love me, right?” 

Dick nods. “Of course. I love you. Everyone does. I love you so much.” 

Damian’s sobs resume and persist for a little longer, then stop altogether. 

“No, Dami. No, not you too. Dami, stay with me please.” 

Jason walks over to Tim, who’s frozen in place. Jason pulls him into a hug that Tim doesn't even attempt to fight. 

“He can’t be gone…” Tim mutters. “They both can’t be…” 

“I’m sorry,” Jason says. “I’m really sorry.” 

Jason goes to move Tim to arm’s length and Tim clings to him. Jason rubs Tim’s back as Dick’s cries for Damian ring in his ears. After a while, Jason finally convinces Tim that they need to go. That the crisis is over for them and that they need to get home. 

Tim watches Jason walk over and puts a hand on Dick’s shoulder. 

“No, no. You can’t take him.” 

“I’m not gonna take him, but we need to go.” 

Cass takes Tim’s hand and the two of them hold hands, silently supporting each other. 

“Where’s Dad?” 

“On his way to the Batcave. I’m really sorry, Dickie.” 

Dick stands up slowly, holding Damian’s body like a baby. 

“It’s not your fault, Jay. It’s Ivy’s. We should…” He chokes up and looks away from Damian. “We need to get back to the Batcave. Make sure that Tim and Cass get there, okay?” 

Jason nods. After stomping some machine by Two-Face to pieces, Dick takes off with Damian. Jason turns towards Tim and Cass, the three of them coming to a silent agreement. They head to the Batcave and are met by Barbara and Alfred. 

“Dick here yet?” Tim asks. 

Barbara shakes her head. Cass, Tim, and Jason all hug Alfred, who looks like he might break down. Dick comes in and bypasses all of them to put Damian on the table beside Bruce. He sits between Damian and Bruce. 

“Come on. You all need to get cleaned up and taken care of,” Alfred says. 

So they head upstairs. Dick and Alfred join them not long after. 

(POV Dick) 

Dick planned the funeral, refusing to let anyone assist him. Whether it was so nobody else had to deal with the event or him, no one knew. The event was only for family and close friends. Many of the Justice League members showed up to show support. Dick stayed in the back during the event and after giving his speech, didn’t say anything to anyone. 

Since then, he’s locked himself in his room in the manor. Just about everyone’s tried to come in and talk, but he ends up running them all off. Tim knocks on the open door and Dick barely glances at him before returning his attention to his hands which are planted in his lap. 

“Did you come in here to talk me into feeling better? To tell me to pull myself together? How am I supposed to pull myself together when my father is dead? When my baby brother died in my arms while waiting for medical support that never arrived?” Dick shouts. 

Tim doesn’t flinch or leave the room like the others did. He walks over, sits down, and wraps his arms around his oldest brother. Dick breaks down sobbing and the two end up hugging for a while. Dick breaks away, walking over to his closet. Dick walks over to his closet and digs around until he finds his box of keepsakes. He holds it out and Tim takes it. 

“Feel free to keep it as long as you’d like. You can share it with the other two if you want to.” 

“What is it exactly?” Tim asks. 

“Things I keep here. Pictures, items, writings about memories. I figured that you’d enjoy looking at some of the nicer ones,” Dick answers. “I won’t be able to even think too hard about them for a while, so you guys might as well.” 

“Okay, I’ll share it with the others.” 

Dick ruffles Tim’s hair. “Thanks, buddy.” 

“Do you need space?” 

“Yeah, a little. I’ll be down in a minute.” 

Dick watches Tim leave the room and he collapses on his bed. 

How am I supposed to live with the guilt that it should have me? That Damian’s supposed to be alive right now?

[psychologeek]

Whumptober #13:

TEAM AS A FAMILY | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part."

@keitria this isn't exactly what you want, but part of the universe

There's a basement underneath The Nest. 

During the constructions of the old theatre, Tim has extended it sideways and below, making it so sheltered that one could survive anything smaller than a nuke. Whole with enough MRE for a year, necessarities such as bathroom and algae for oxygen and recycling water.

There's a box in the basement. One that used to hold his secret photos, back when he was a child.

It still holds memories. 

~

There's a kid's cap, and child-sized shovel.

("There you go, kiddo! Just like your dad!")

There's an old book and a pair of gloves.

("You are part of a long, powerful dynasty. Never let anyone make you feel ashamed of who you are.")

There's a magnifying glass and a pair of googles.

(“The hair gets in my eyes and Flush’s so mode about it he keeps telling me I just need  to cut it but I don’t want to did you know they have shampoo that can make you smell like STRAWBERRIES? that’s totally crash past is so crash but I still like my hair.”)

There's a golden earring. 

("What's wrong, Rob?"

And everything was too much. Too wrong. 

"It's nothing.")

There's a golden earring, shaped like the sun.

("It just. It feels wrong," he later tried to explain. "Like it's... it was done for a girl. But that was done to my body. But it wrong and- urrgh, sorry, it's hard to explain it.")

Just a single eering. 

(Kon and a needle and a pair of earrings -

"I thought maybe it could help," said his teammate. "Maybe we can make it, like, something of our own? Making this - I don't know. Something good? That we choose?"

And there was a needle in Kon's hand, and a hole in his earlobe were a tag used to be. A number.

But after that, they were just friends who shared a single pair of earrings.)

(Like it? I have more mini-fics Whumptober index | And full size fics on ao3. )

[oxideblack]

[kybercrystals94]

Come Back (ch. 2)

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 13 - Prompts: Team as a Family // Familial Curse

Rated: T | Words: 773

<<Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>

A/N: Told myself I was not going to write anymore multi-chapter stories for prompt challenges...but here we are...not sure which prompt will be the next chapter, but keep a look out! (Special thanks to @fionas-frenzy & @omegafett99 for their suggestions with this prompt fill!)

“How’s it looking?” 

“We’re in luck. Whoever scuttled this ship didn’t wipe the hard drive’s data imprint. I’m transferring the files.” Tech doesn’t have to ask if Omega wants to help. He already knows she does. She would not have sought him out otherwise. He holds out the data stick, and she readily takes it. “But I still need to copy the master drive. It’s under that panel.” He goes back to his own work. 

“Tech?” Omega asks a moment later, and he waits for the expected questions to come next. Instead, she asks nothing related to copying the master drive. “What was the war like?” 

Omega may have been bound to Kamino her whole life; however, she has been surrounded by the essence of war. The Kaminoans were not discreet in their purpose for cloning soldiers. The question, therefore, seems unnecessary, since she surely knows the definition. “It was a primary mission objective comprised of battles on various fronts.” 

 “But what was it like?” Omega asks again, emphasizing her words in such a way as to indicate he had not just answered her question. 

“Hm?” There is no other answer to give. “I just told you.” 

**

“What was the war like?” Tech echoes the distant question, voice a breathless whisper. “I didn’t understand your question at the time, did I?” 

Omega is not present to answer. He wonders if she and their brothers got off Eriadu safely. This can’t all be for nothing. His brokenness, of body and spirit. He does not want to think his mind might be broken too. Not yet. 

Time is moving strangely. He doesn’t know if it’s been mere minutes or hours or days. But he can’t stay in this cave forever. He needs to find water at the very least. And then a way off this planet. A way back to his siblings. But maybe he can rest just a few moments more. 

“The war was everything,” Tech says to the darkness where the warmth of Omega’s presence lingers like a ghost. Maybe his mind is broken after all. “It was our whole lives, our whole meaning, our whole purpose. There wasn’t anything else. Until the Order. Until you.”

He has to find his way back. He has to tell her about the war. About their history. About her brothers. He has so much left to teach her. He was willing to go through with Plan 99, and had meant the words with his last breath. 

Only the plan had failed, and he had drawn breath again against all odds. 

“I’m picking up a heat signature over here,” a voice says. It isn’t modulated through the comm of a helmet, but that doesn’t make Tech fear any less. He can crawl further into his cave, hope that he isn’t worth coming after. 

Before he can force his fragmented body to move, a set of hands claws into the narrow opening, fingers trying to find holds on the remains of his armor. He wants to struggle, to pull away, but perhaps he is more injured than he initially realized. Perhaps it was adrenaline that pushed him this far. 

Perhaps he is dying after all. 

Perhaps…this is the end. 

He is dragged out roughly and dropped. He cries out in pain. 

“What are you doing here, Empire scum?” the voice demands. 

Tech coughs, a rattle deep in his lungs. That is not good, he thinks faintly. “I am…” he gasps out, “...not with the Empire.” 

“You’re a clone.” 

“I have freewill,” Tech bites out, fingers clawing into damp earth. Dew has settled. “My brothers and I chose against the Empire.” 

“Your brothers,” the voice scoffs, voice saturated with disdain. “You mean other clones.” 

Something inside Tech breaks. These individuals, whoever they are, hate the Empire. Hate him. Hate his brothers. But they are his only chance now. He won’t survive much longer on his own power. “Please. I want to go home.” 

“Why would we help you? Why shouldn’t I just end you now, put you out of your misery?” 

“Because I have information that might be valuable to you,” Tech says, and maybe some unchecked emotion leaks through, but he is too exhausted and shattered to care.

A boot rolls him to his back, and Tech is staring up into a twilight sky. The misty clouds he fell through have cleared, and stars blink down at him, brilliant pinpricks of light. Even without his goggles he sees them. Omega loves the stars. 

“Prove that you have information we want,” the voice says. 

But Tech can’t think of anything to say before his thoughts and vision go dark. 

TBC

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[uuuhshiny]

Vladimir Verevochkin in Survival game (Игра на выживание)

At the escape attempt Semyon accidentally shots Tanya and decides that it’s better to finish them all off and be on his own

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1139

A comes back from an excursion and they’re exhausted beyond relief. They’re covered head to toe in scrapes and bruises and have gone perhaps too long without a meal that wasn’t rations/protein bars/energy drinks. They listlessly stumble from the transport, and head straight to their room to decompress; the team know better than to intervene at this stage.

So in the shower A goes, maybe still in their underwear and t-shirt as they sit on the tiled floor; letting the warm water pulse at strained muscles and rinse away perhaps weeks worth of grime.

Maybe ten minutes later, or however long they decide to give A, B quietly slips into the shower with them, and begins to coax them through washing their hair and body. A doesn’t speak, they’re too tired, and B knows better than to expect an answer. When they’re finished, C is patiently waiting on the other side of the shower curtain; armed with a warm towel and fresh bandages if they’re needed.

In the bedroom adjacent, D has prepared the bed, and laid out clean clothes for A, as E carefully steps into the room with a tray loaded with food/snacks for A to eat when they’re ready. The team know better than to expect A to have a full appetite at this stage.

They fall asleep together that night, thankful A is back (mostly) unharmed. A has a smile on their face as they drift off to sleep.

[whump-tr0pes]

Another Way to Be

Many thanks to @newbornwhumperfly for being so generous in letting me put their boy Morja in Situations, and many apologies to them as well for holding onto this story for so many months while waiting for me to finish it.

My masterlist

Morja is a diathésimos, one of a class of indentured servants owned by society’s elite - though some would call them slaves. He has been tasked with a mission of critical importance by his anóteros: to infiltrate a dangerous family that has taken refuge in the north, and kill the criminal that they are harboring: Gavin Stormbeck.

“It is your part to kill me, mine to die without flinching.”

— Epictetus, from Discourses (Translated by Robert Dobbin)

Your Part to Kill | My Part to Die | To Die Quietly | Despair | Dawn | Breakfast Part 1 | Breakfast Part 2 | To Die Without Flinching | Relief

Contents: conditioned whumpee, implied past murder, false execution, misunderstanding whump, flashbacks, PTSD, guilt, past offscreen murder of children, forgiveness, recovery, collared whumpee, collar removal

Note: in @newbornwhumperfly's story, it is not canon that Morja has killed children.

~

Isaac separated Morja from the rest of the family again, a few days later, like a wolf cleaving a single sheep from the herd. Morja watched it happen - watched as Isaac suggested Gray, Vera, and Tori leave in their car to go into town. Then he watched as Finn and Ellis slipped out, encouraged by Isaac again. Sam and Gavin were harder to convince. Still, as Morja washed the dishes from the morning breakfast, scrubbed the counters that were already clean, wiped every surface in the kitchen and then wiped them all again - he could feel Isaac’s eyes on his back. He could feel the presence of Gavin Uriah on the couch next to him in the living room, too, and Sam’s in their room. 

Morja’s hands shook as he worked. He wanted to ask for something else to do, but the thought of breaking the heavy silence made his stomach clench. He reached for the broom and began to sweep the already spotless kitchen floor. 

“How about you go take a walk around the lake?” Isaac said gently to Gavin. “Get some fresh air. You’ve been inside all day.”

Morja froze, straining his ears for Gavin’s response. He didn’t hear one. 

Not only a useless diathésimos, but an eavesdropper, too. He set the broom aside and turned toward the back door.

“Where are you going?” Isaac called after him.

Morja froze. His heart pounded. His hands balled into fists. His spine was a rod inside his body, perfectly straight, as he turned and looked at the two of them. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, throat dry. “I didn’t mean… I was just going to–”

“I’ll come with you, if you want to go outside,” Isaac said, and he got to his feet.

“No,” Gavin breathed. His hand locked on Isaac’s wrist, pulling him back. 

Isaac stared down at Gavin for a long moment. Finally, he murmured, “I just want to talk to him. Alone.”

Gavin shook his head. “No.” The word was barely louder than a breath. 

Isaac turned, showing Gavin his back. Morja blinked, confused, before he realized - there was no gun tucked into Isaac’s waistband. That didn’t matter, Morja knew, Isaac could have a knife concealed on him and end Morja’s life that way. Or just use his hands. Diathésimos could be deadly with anything they were given. Morja had ended enough lives with his bare hands to know that.

Isaac turned back to Gavin and knelt, holding Gavin’s face in his hands. “I swear,” he whispered, and the gesture was so intimate that Morja turned away, face flushing. “I’m not going out there to kill him. I swear, I swear, I just want to talk.” He sucked in a breath. “D-diathésimos to diathésimos.”

Gavin took in a breath, too. Morja stared at the floor. 

Tactically, it was a good strategy to get Morja alone. He wondered what Isaac would say to Gavin once Morja was dead - what he would have to say to repair the trust Isaac was breaking right now.

Finally, Gavin nodded in Isaac’s hands. Isaac pressed a kiss to Gavin’s forehead and rose to his feet once again. 

“Let’s go,” Isaac said flatly. He brushed past Morja and slid the back door open. Morja followed behind, silent and still. 

He had already had Isaac’s gun pressed to his head once. He knew Isaac Moore would not hesitate this time. 

He trailed behind Isaac as Isaac walked out over the grass behind the house, then onto the pebbly beach of the lake. Isaac walked in silence. Morja’s legs moved mechanically, bearing him along, his hands and head numb. He wondered where and when Isaac would tell him to get on his knees and execute him with quick, clean efficiency. 

Isaac had hesitated before. And diathésimos never hesitate. 

Diathésimos never show the enemy their back, either. But Isaac was walking only a few steps ahead of Morja, and Morja was staring at his empty waistband. 

Once they were about a quarter way around the lake, Isaac stopped walking. Morja knew without looking back that they must be out of sight of the house now, or at least the rear windows. 

He wanted to say goodbye to Sam.

He dropped to his knees. 

Isaac wanted something else from him, last time–

Shaking, shaking, he crossed his wrists behind him. 

“Get up, Morja, I’m not killing you today,” Isaac said without turning around. 

Morja choked on a sob. He stared up at Isaac’s back, the pebbles digging into his knees through the soft sweatpants they had given him. 

He was tired of the tricks, of the games - ah, diathésimos, I never told you to scream, I only told you to beg, now contain yourself or I’ll bring in another friend to enjoy you tonight - he was tired of the nightmares. 

He was tired of never knowing when a correction was coming. Let one come now.

He held his tongue and bowed his head. His shoulder ached from holding his arms in the position they were in, but he would hold them there as long as it took. 

Isaac whirled on Morja. “I said get up,” he snarled. Morja flinched minutely. The motion was hardly noticeable at all. 

He flinched hard when Isaac held out a hand in front of his face. He steeled himself and braced for the correction. Heat spread through his face in anticipation of the blow. This, he knew. He closed his eyes.

The wind made a soft sound through the bushes and trees around them as Isaac stood motionless in front of Morja. The pebbles ground into his knees, but he hardly noticed it. 

Other than the barn, he had not been made to kneel in so, so long. 

“Please,” Isaac whispered. His voice sounded so broken that Morja’s eyes opened in shock. The hand in front of his face was still there, motionless–

Not motionless. Shaking. 

“Please,” Isaac said again. “Please get up.” He opened his hand further and reached for Morja’s bicep. Morja let himself be pulled to his feet. Helped to his feet.

As he staggered upright, his hand landed on Isaac’s wrist. Isaac allowed the touch, allowed the weight. Once Morja had righted himself, he pulled away, staring at his feet. They stood together in silence, closer than they had ever been. Isaac made no move away from Morja. Morja stood stock still - gunpowder near a flame. A wrong move, and the explosion might destroy them both. 

Still, Isaac didn’t seem uncomfortable with Morja so close. He tucked his hands in his pockets and looked out over the lake. The sun shimmered on its surface in the late afternoon. It looked more like a pane of glass than water. 

“I’ve been thinking about what I– what happened.” Isaac said. He swallowed thickly. “About what I did. What I…” He wet his lips and stared at the ground. “What I almost did.”

“I understand it,” Morja said. “I am… I was…”

“It’s not about that,” Isaac said. “I know it. And I think you do, too.” He bent to pick a particularly smooth and flat stone from the beach. He straightened and flicked it over the surface of the lake. It skipped along the top several times before it slipped beneath the surface, sending ripples in every direction. 

“But I…” Morja blinked, staring at Isaac. “I did. Try. I mean… I apologize. I did try to kill your…” He lapsed into silence. 

“You’ve been… forced,” Isaac said. “And I… I know what that… means. What that’s like.” 

If you return without proof of death, diathésimos, it’ll be you on the rack next. 

Morja shivered and looked out over the lake with Isaac. Large white birds twisted and soared in the air currents above it. His eyes followed them for a while. 

Isaac broke the silence. “It’s not just that,” he whispered, pained. “I mean, I…” He glanced back at the house. It was a brilliant white smear on the edge of the lake. “Even after Gray… found… me… I didn’t stop killing. Even when I… even when…” He drew a hand over his face. The pale scars at his wrist peeked out from his long sleeve. “Even after I knew there was… a different way. I… I killed someone on… on our side.”

Morja’s throat tightened. He said nothing, just looked at Isaac. 

Isaac chewed his lip and kept going. “It was an argument that got out of hand. They were… going after Gray about a difference of opinion on how to handle a syndicate target. Gray was calm, and the other person… wasn’t. And they… they raised their hand to Gray, and I–” He let out a choked sound and sank into a squat beside Morja. 

The birds whirled above them, indifferent to the tears that glittered on Isaac’s cheeks. 

Isaac shot to his feet again, swiping the tears away. “Fuck,” he breathed. He glanced at Morja. Morja looked at the ground, bowing his head again. Isaac huffed out a bitter laugh. “You ever kill any kids?”

Shame clutched Morja’s heart. He swallowed, swallowed again. His hands squeezed into fists again.

They were enemies, diathésimos. An enemy is an enemy, no matter their age. Be careful, or I may suspect that you are beginning to sympathize with our enemy.

“Yes,” Morja said, more a breath than a word.

“Yeah,” Isaac responded, nodding. “Me, too.” 

More tears shone on Isaac’s cheeks, now. Gooseflesh rippled on Morja’s arms. His throat tightened. His eyes prickled, and he squeezed them shut. 

Sam’s body, juddering under his knife, flashed across his vision. He opened his eyes with a soft gasp. 

Isaac was looking at him with curiosity. Morja’s lips trembled as he returned the look.

“Is there a way to be something other than this?” Morja said with a numb mouth. 

Isaac was silent for so long that Morja thought he wasn’t going to answer. The lake made little ripples on the gravel. One bird landed on the lake and floated. It was joined by another, then a third. The wind moved through Morja’s hair. 

“I don’t know,” Isaac finally said. “I’m… trying to figure that out. With Gavin. With Sam. With my family.”

“And… could I…?” Morja’s knees shook. He was ready to let them fold, if it was the wrong question.

He was always ready to kneel.

“Could I… try… as well?” he whispered.

Isaac looked at him, then out across the lake. He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. He rubbed his fingertips along the scars along his throat, the ones that marked him for what he was - or used to be. “Yeah. I think you could.” He turned to keep walking along the edge of the lake. “Want to keep moving?” he said softly.

Morja paused. “Will you…?” His hand drifted up and trailed along the edge of his own collar, still buckled tightly around his throat. “Will you help me?”

Isaac’s gaze softened as he stepped forward. Gently, slowly - so slowly - he raised his hands and loosened the buckle of the collar. Just as gently, he drew the collar through the buckle until it was just a strip of leather hanging on Morja’s shoulders. Morja held one end of the collar in a shaking hand. As he did, Isaac covered his hand with his own. 

Slowly, Morja pulled the collar away until it slithered off his shoulders and hung from his fingers. He turned, resolutely, and faced the lake. Then, with perfect precision, he wound up and hurled the collar into the center of the lake, startling the birds who had decided to take their rest there. 

@womping-grounds , @free-2bmee , @quirkykayleetam , @walkingchemicalfire , @inpainandsuffering , @redwingedwhump , @burtlederp , @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments , @whumpywhumper , @stxck-fxck , @whumps-the-word , @justplainwhump ,  @finder-of-rings , @inky-whump , @thatsthewhump , @orchidscript , @this-mightaswell-happen , @newandfiguringitout , @whumpkitty , @pretty-face-breaker , @cinnamonflavoredhugs , @pebbledriscoll , @im-just-here-for-the-whump , @endless-whump , @grizzlie70 , @oops-its-whump , @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather , @butwhatifyouwrite , @carnagecardinal ​, @annablogsposts , @suspicious-whumping-egg , @starfields08000 , @morning-star-whump , @theelvishcowgirl , @i-eat-worlds

[bubbl3zdaseaotter37]

Whumptober 2024

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

A/N: A big contrast from my last one, here's a good, old hurt/comfort fic featuring our favorite wet cat character, Quill Kipps. Looking back on it, I kind of wish I could have included something about the Lockwood family's misfortunes for "familial curse," but I'm happy with this overall. Hope you enjoy!

Cold.

Quill Kipps had never felt this cold before.  It seeped deep into his bones like poison, replacing all energy and joy.  The gaping wound in his side, an open window to the chilly air, only worsened it.

And yet he felt at peace.

It was alright if he died here.  Sure, he had hoped to knock a couple more things out before he kicked the bucket.  He would’ve liked to see somewhere other than London and his hometown, maybe get a chance to mend things with Jesper and the rest of his family.  They didn’t know he had quit Fittes.  The letter he had written to them still sat on the table in his dingy flat.  Knowing Lockwood, he would do everything in his power to get it to them when he was gone. 

However, all those regrets sat surprisingly light on his mind.  He had always suspected something like this would become of him.  Ghost touch, a deadly fall, a rapier to the gut, or any of the other misfortunes he had witnessed in his something-odd years in the business, those pointless mortalities he saw in his sleep.  Jamie, Samir, Marcus, Ned… Poor Ned… the boy had deserved so much more than what life gave him.  They all had.

Quill may have let the power of being employed at Fittes get to his head, but he was an agent at heart, always had been.  At least this way, it had meaning.  And he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

The void called.  It was remarkable, how at peace he felt, the thought of simply letting go, of leaving the cold behind sounded incredible at the moment.  Now that he knew what was waiting for him on the Other Side – or a part of it, anyways – he found that he wasn’t scared.

Voices from the land of the living echoed in the back of his mind.  He was moving; at least, he thought he was moving.  It was hard to tell, when he was drifting outside of his body, like a spectator to a badly choreographed sitcom.  Shouting, crashing, explosions – the typical Lockwood and Co. flare. 

Speaking of which… He recalled how Lucy and the spiky-haired boy had stared at him, before crossing the gates the second time.  He supposed that was one thing that saddened him; these kids had already lost so much.  They all had.  But Lockwood and Co. had become a sort of… family.  If one subscribed to the “family is who you choose” saying – which he didn’t.  Besides, he hadn’t really chosen them.  Someone aside from Barnes had to make sure they didn’t get themselves killed…

Still, if there was one thing Quill wished he had time to do, it was to thank them.

Thank you for being the family I chose.

Oh well.  It seemed like that wasn’t happening any time soon.  Or ever.  The pull to Nothingness was getting stronger by the minute.  Even Nothingness seemed warmer than the chill that clutched his body in an iron grip, the icy pain in his side—

Then Quill felt warmth.

Not the type of warmth that death offered, no, this was real.  Quill marveled blearily at the heat that wrapped itself gently around his hand, stopped his consciousness from drifting, grounded him thoroughly in the real world.  Which was not entirely a good thing, when his side hurt more than anything he had ever felt before.

Still, curiosity got the better of him.  With momentous effort, he pried open his eyes, and was greeted by the blurry, anxious face of Holly Munro.  Her lips formed words as she gestured to someone else, somewhere else.  Her typically neat hair was disheveled from their unpleasant adventure, and she was bleeding heavily somewhere on the side of her face, but it was her steady grip that he felt around his hand.

As Quill forced his eyes open again – he wasn’t sure when they had fallen shut.  It could have been two seconds, or two eternities since they left the basement in Fittes House for all he knew – a second, more shapeless face, adorned with battered glasses, bruises, bandages, and a pathetic flop of straw-like hair, appeared next to Holly’s.

Not exactly the view he had expected as he died – his team looked a lot like Visitors themselves at this point – but a tiny ember settled in his chest as warmth enveloped his other hand. 

No, this wasn’t a bad way to go at all.

Somewhere, sirens wailed.  It was a high-pitched sound, piercing his murky consciousness like a screaming spirit.  As it ebbed and flowed, he let his eyes drift closed, listened to the fragments of conversation around him. A wash of calm came over him as a memory drifted through his consciousness, of his cousin, Jesper, carrying him to the bedroom he shared with his younger cousins, after he had sworn he could stay up until the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve with the adults.  The sound of voices through the walls, distant yet comforting, because you knew you weren’t alone…

“—he make it…?”

“Don’t know…”

“—ang in there, Kipps…”

“Kipps?”

“A little longer…”

“Almost there…!”

“We’re losing him!”

“…Losing—!”

The first thing Quill remembered was how he hoped he hadn’t come back.

Is this what it feels like, being dead?

He was floating in a dark abyss, as murky and indistinguishable as the bottom of the Thames.  He remembered how dark the Other London had appeared past the spirit gate, devoid of all warmth and happiness. 

But he didn’t feel cold at all…

Maybe he was past Other London, then?  Through the silvery doorway into the next world?  Wasn’t there supposed to be trumpets, and singing, and laughter in the Kingdom?  Or maybe he wasn’t quite there yet, stuck somewhere in between… it certainly didn’t seem like it, with how very dark and silent it was…

Wait! It wasn’t completely quiet.  He could hear muffled sounds, like he was listening to something past lumps of cotton shoved in his ears.  A low, constant humming, a repetitive beeping, and the quiet drone of voices… yes!  Voices!  Gathering his insufficient strength, Quill slowly and tediously dragged himself out of the thick, clinging weight of the darkness.  Gradually, the murmurs became more pronounced, recognition flickered in the back of his mind.  He knew those voices…

But with Quill’s returning clarity, also came the realization that he was not dead, unless dead things felt pain, because every inch of his body seemed to hurt.  He let out a low groan as he shifted stiffly under thin, white sheets.  The muted conversation halted, Quill finally opened his eyes, four battered faces stared at him, wide-eyed.

And all at once, four people began speaking rapidly.

“Thank goodness you’re okay—”

“—were so worried—”

“Kipps, you absolute moron—”

“—Thought you’d died!”

“S’ Shame, really—”

“Don’t say that, George!”

Just when Quill was sure his head might explode from so much noise being crammed into his dazed, half-conscious brain, a fifth intervened.

“That’s enough, you four.”

Lucy, George, Lockwood, and Holly fell silent and parted as Inspector Barnes appeared in their midst.  He looked more hangdog than usual, his mustache drooped forlornly, and his shirt and jacket were woefully wrinkled, but it was a welcome sight, if a little surprising.  Quill was somewhat acquainted with the man – he seemed to follow in the wake of whatever chaos Lockwood and Co. created.  As to why Barnes was there now… he had no idea.

“Good to see you awake, Mr. Kipps,” Barnes said gruffly, but to Quill’s surprise, genuine relief hid behind the words. “You had us all worried.”

“Speak for yourself,” George muttered, to get a violent elbow from Lucy and Holly, in quick succession.  He was looking significantly better than he had only a week ago, but he was wearing a horrendous orange sweater.  That, and a new lock of stark, white hair stood out against the rest of his dirty blond mop.  The same could be said for Holly, whose hair was back up in its typical, neat state.

Quill rolled his eyes, a dry smile spread across his lips. “You would have missed me, Cubbins,” he croaked.

“Would I, Kipps?”

Wearing his usual ensemble, only without his signature coat, Lockwood stepped forward before their banter could get out of hand.  The gash above his brow, inflicted by the late Sir Rupert Gale, was taped together neatly.  Like all of them, he was looking a little worse for wear, but his cheeky grin was as bright as ever.  “We all would have missed you, Quill. And you did have us worried.”

“You’ve been out for three days,” Lucy added.  She had been mostly quiet until now, but she looked… content.  At peace.  He recalled their brief exchange, there at the second spirit gate.  It had been so brief, but it felt like there was a new understanding between them.

 Three days… that meant the fallout of their little, world-altering, conspiracy-destroying, death-defying “adventure” must have been well in motion by now.  They all knew their actions would cause an irrevocable shift in the world they knew, but what that was? He couldn’t imagine just yet.

“What happened?” he asked, trying to sit up in bed, only to be caught off-guard by sudden pain in his side.  Whatever painkillers the doctors had him on had dulled it to a manageable background noise, but with the movement it flared anew, and he couldn’t hide his grimace.

Barnes put out a placating hand as Quill gave up on the attempt.  “Enough for that later,” he said, shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets. “Now, you should rest. I’m not a doctor, but I do know that.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Lockwood said to Barnes with a grateful smile. “I’m sure you have a lot you have to see to.”

“You have no idea, Lockwood,” Barnes grumbled, gave them a brisk nod, and left the cramped hospital room.

Once he knew Barnes was gone, Quill released a weary sigh into the comfortable silence.  “Are any of you going to fill me in on what happened while I was out? The last thing I knew, Fittes House was crashing down around us, and you’re going to tell me things are still perfectly fine?”

“There’s too much to explain,” Holly said, perching carefully on the foot of the bed. “But I do have a question for you, actually.”

Somehow, Quill had figured that would be his answer.  And to be perfectly honest, as curious as he was, now he didn’t feel up to the mental gymnastics that figuring out cause and effect required.  So, he nodded at Holly to continue.

“When we were on the ambulance, you, George, and I… you were saying something about wanting to tell us something,” she explained. 

Quill felt his ears warming as the realization hit him. He cleared his throat, disguising it as a cough.  Thank you for being the family I chose.  Nope.  Not even the homicidal head of an illegal relic smuggling ring could get him to admit that.

“I can’t recall.”

“Ah…” Holly said with a gentle smile. “that’s alright.”

Another silence fell over them.  Lockwood and Lucy shared a knowing look, while George adamantly cleaned his glasses on his horrendous sweater.  Holly straightened out the already nicely arranged folds of her nicely ironed purple dress. Quill felt the sudden urge to cough again.

“Barnes was right though,” Lucy interjected, “you should get some rest.”

“Gladly.”  Despite his relief at not being dead, and his desire to know what happened at Fittes House after he was carted away, he could feel fatigue creeping back into the edges of his mind.  The thought of sleep was infinitely more appealing than whatever history-altering nonsense Lucy and Lockwood had caused in his absence at the moment.

Lockwood grinned, patted him amiably on the shoulder.  “We’ll leave you to it, then.”

With that, the four members of Lockwood and Co began to file out.  But Lockwood disappeared through the door, Quill felt the urge to say one last thing.

“Tony?”

Lockwood stopped abruptly, turned around, eyebrow raised.  Behind him, Quill could see a glimpse of Lucy’s curious and perplexed expression.  For a moment, he tried to straighten out all the many things he wanted to tell them.  He had a place because of them.  “Found family” or not.  In the end, he settled on the simplest thing he could think of.

“Thank you.”

Lockwood blinked, before a genuine smile spread across his face.  He looked so much like his sister when he smiled like that.

“Rest up,” he said simply. “Portland Row is going to need a complete overhaul after this whole mess.”

“Bye, Tony.” Quill inclined his head towards the doorframe. “Lucy.”

Past Lockwood’s shoulder, Lucy gave him an understanding smile.  A moment later, the door shut behind them, and his friends were gone.  Even so, an inexplicable warmth lingered in his chest as he drifted to sleep.

A/N: and yes, I do ascribe to the mildly popular theory that Kipps knew the Lockwoods prior to the famed fencing match. It just adds so much subtext to his and Lockwood's competitive relationship in the books! And the Kipps/Jessica ship has so much potential.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!

[obsesive-poltergeist]

looking for a very specific sasusaku fic

Post war, team 7 coming back from mission when they realize Sakura has been poisoned. Then they basically see her go full medic nin at an abandoned cabin(that Narutos clones helped rebuild).

Scenes include:

Drinking game of never hace I ever, where Sakura shocked them with her BAMFness. He thinks she was more innocent.

Mostly, if not all, Sasukes POV

Talking to Tsunade through her sumons.

Using several scrolls as a makeshift lab

Spoilers:

While Naruto went to get Tsunade Sasuke and Sakura have moments. Culminated with Sasuke using chidori to shock the poison out of her. He wakes up to her sending a letter where she tels her mentor not to come cuz she's ok. Then they bang.

Pleasee, it was super well written

[donovankinard]

i'm so sorry, i'm so confused, just tell me, am i out of time? a fic by @thefootnotes for @whumptober

“I’m telling you, my name is Henrietta Wilson and I’m with the Los Angeles Fire Department. I need to speak to Bobby Nash, he’s here, he’s the technical advisor, it’s urgent, please, I need to talk to him.” “You have to go through security–” “Hen?” Bobby practically shoots out of his chair, waving away the crew and ignoring the scoff of the director on the far side of the room. “Hey, she’s a friend.”

Or the one where mistakes have been made, it could cost someone’s life, and Bobby just wishes he had been there.

T | bobby nash & the 118 | 1.2k whumptober day 13 - team as a family: familial curse, multiple whumpees, "death will do us part"

read on ao3.

[sushimango]

Day 13 of Whumptober!

In this RPG both siblings died during an accident in this house and since then couldn't leave

If being shoved down the stairs and stabbed through the neck count as accidents...

[arianaofimladris]

Dropping random Batman Whumptober bits because I enjoyed writing that. My friend keep insisting that I'm writing Cracktober, but who said there can't be a bit of fluff there as well?

"Daddy? Is Batman here?"

Bruce froze at the question asked in a childish voice, his right hand pressing awkwardly the gauze over his left shoulder. He turned and saw Gordon's son standing in the hall, in a dark green hoodie still on and with a backpack on one shoulder.

Jim recovered first. "No, Jimmy. It's just Mr Wayne." 

"Oh." The boy looked perplexed for a moment, as if seeing Batman in his bathroom would have been less surprising. “Good evening.”

“Hello.” Bruce relaxed and decided some explanation was in order. "I… Well, I had a motor accident this morning, but then I was told my... Someone very close to me was taken to hospital, so I didn't get this cleaned. Your dad was kind to help me out,” he said, glad that he didn't exactly have to lie to the boy.

"Falling from a bike sucks," the boy nodded in understanding, then glanced at what he could still see of Bruce's back and winced. "Did you wear a helmet?" The stern look he gave him made Bruce chuckle.

"Yes, I did.”

“Ah, blast it,” Gordon shut the cupboard under the sink. “Jimmy, do you know where mum put band aids? I need more.”

“I have some!” The boy dropped his backpack and retrieved a Halloween themed package from a side pocket.

"Thanks, but these are too small. I need a roll."

"Not for this one," Jimmy pointed at a wound over Bruce’s elbow and handed him the biggest band aid with a toothy pumpkin and a grinning bat.

Whole story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59640451/chapters/152109811

[blogger360ncislarules]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: NCIS: Los Angeles Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Harris Keane & Hetty Lange Characters: Hetty Lange, Harris Keane Additional Tags: Whumptober 2024, 9x23, 9x24, 10x01, Team as Family, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Set Up For Failure, Partner Betrayal, holding back tears, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season/Series 10 Speculation, Yeah this is a lot of whump Summary:

A very deep and whumpy look into what the Season 9 finale and Season 10 premiere must have been like for Hetty.