#tw broken bones mention

[star-trek-fandom-confessions]

#863

I personally do not understand human x Klingon or Vulcan x human pairings. Too many shattered pelvises and crushed genitals on the humans end.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

What kind of things did eclipse go through when being bought and sold?

Unspeakable things. Abuse of all forms. Torture, broken bones, manipulation, gaslighting, beatings, ect. Basically the only thing that his owners wouldn't do was cut dismemberment, since him being in one piece was in the agency's selling clause.

[fluffyblueblanket123]

13 and 16 for the whump asks 👀

Yay! Thank you so much! (Hugs)

13. Favorite physical whump trope

Lol, I’m not going to lie, I stared at this question for a good while, trying to figure what this meant. I guess I’m really tired lol.

I love illness whump. That’s a favorite of mine. Injury wise, I like broken bones from falls and trying to get to safety.

16. Underrated trope

Doctor house calls honestly is so underrated. I also think use of oxygen masks is underrated. I think I have to look for those though. I just don’t see them too much.

[nii-chans-rabiddogs]

Conversations

TWs: mentions of broken bones, implied pet whump, implied/mentioned child abuse(?). Have a thing. It's exactly 669 words :3. Bit of a POV switch too!

@cupcakes-and-pain @maracujatangerine

“So, how was Ghost’s first training session? He’s a fun little guy to mess with, right?” Doctor Everly pestered, tapping away at his tablet.

“Stubborn, stupid, and got way too anxious after one shock. Little guy’s far too scared of pain to be a good guard dog, but with the Boss requiring isolation he can’t be recon or attack either. I’ll keep workin’ towards guard, but if he doesn’t get better soon then I’ll have to come up with something else.” Seren replied, filling in the file for the new trainee.

“Hm. Maybe you can turn him into a lapdog? Or a punching bag, you don’t need his obedience for that. If it were up to me though, I’d use him as a lapdog, with how talkative and cute he is.”

“Well, he wouldn’t be talking. Boss doesn’t want him speaking at all, basically. Other than that, he would be an amazing lapdog. If he takes to training nicely, then I might use him as an example. Once he stops overreacting, of course.”

“By the way, what’s the schedule look like? Is it any different than the usuals? Since he was a hero brat, and all.” Doctor Everly commented, trading the tablet for the medical file on Ghost.

“A little bit. We’re goin’ to continue working on ‘sit’, ‘stay’, and ‘come’, for the next couple sessions. Once he has that down, we’ll move to ‘place’ and ‘down’. Oh, after he obeys ‘come’ well enough, I’ll need to get him used to responding to Arlo. Ghost just didn’t fit right, and Arlo seems like a ditzy name, doesn’t it? It fits nicely on him. Then, once we have the basics down, I’ll move some workout gear into his room and get him started on a routine. The anxiety might be from lack of enrichment, I think. It wouldn’t hurt to get him moving, but I’ll also need to update his feedin’ schedule, then… On that note, does he have any allergies?” 

“Yes, he does. Deathly allergic to mangoes and pineapples, and a slight cat allergy, but that one’s not too bad. While we’re looking at his medical file, I would like to mention that he’s broken his left ankle a good four times-”

“Four? Just on the left ankle?” Seren interrupted, wide-eyed.

“Yep, they had to bring in one of the rescue heroes, Stitch, to fix it so he could keep walking. Honestly, that kid should really be thankful for Detective Gunner and his connections. He also broke both hands, right wrist, and dislocated his left shoulder. It.. Jesus, all of that came from the same incident. Apparently it all came from the foster family he was placed with, but nothing on here tells me why they did that, or how exactly it happened. No wonder he’s so flighty.” Doctor Everly let out a low whistle, and flipped to another page.

“...That does explain the anxiety, at the very least. Is there lasting damage that I need to look out for?”

“Hm, let me see… Nah, you’re good. Apparently they got the same rescue hero to fix him up again, and her power works well enough that physical therapy isn’t required. I don’t see any other injuries on here.”

“Thank fuck. I’ll keep his workouts light, just to be safe once we get there, but other than that I don’t believe I need to change the schedule much. Do you still have those light sedatives on hand? I need some in case he starts gettin’ too anxious.”

“Yes, I do. I’ll have Christen drop some off at your office, enough for a month. If I need to up the dosage or give you more you’ll let me know?”

“Of course. I should get back to Arlo, now. He hasn’t eaten anything in a while, so I’m sure he’ll be excited for dinner. Thanks, Everly.” Seren called over her shoulder, loosely holding the file in one hand and waving with the other. Doctor Everly hummed and went back to his tablet.

[lesiasmadness]

Consider: chaos emerald assisted necromancy

No context for this one, just having fun with an edgy idea

Here's some more:

Bonus:

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

afton'd reader sets a man up to be straight up point blank Murdered and honestly, good for them, wish i could do that when someone flirts with me when im working smh

(i say that like i've been flirted with more than maybe two times in four years of customer service type shit)

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now”

Read it on Ao3

- Time/Malon

- Summary: an injured Link shows up at Lon Lon Ranch

CW for blood and injury, mentions of death and broken bones

——————————

Malon’s hands never shake.

She can’t afford for them to. Sure, there are times when they are a bit unsteady from exhaustion or stress. Sure, there are things that scare her enough to make them trembling a possibility. But in her world, when things get hairy there is only action and no time for anything else.

Now is no different. At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself. Her hands don’t tremble, even as blood oozes over them. Her thoughts don’t falter. No tears fall.

But they want to. Oh, they want to. Because this time feels so very different. She has dealt with wounded animals before and even wounded people (she will never forget the time Ingo got kicked in the leg by Epona; satisfying though it may have been after the man’s behavior, setting that bone wasn’t exactly what she would call enjoyable). Never before, however, has she held the broken body of someone she cares for quite so much.

“You’re an idiot, fairy boy,” she breathes as she presses another cloth to the gash running across her friend’s middle.

“‘m your idiot, though,” he mumbles back. Even now there is characteristic mischief peeking out from behind the exhaustion and pain straining his tone.

Malon rolls her eyes.

Link has been bleeding all over her nice, clean floors and furniture for at least five minutes now. And that’s after he rode in, slumped over Epona’s back, one hand pressed to his stomach, the other clutching the horse’s reins like a lifeline.

He had come because he had nowhere else to go, he had said when she had stepped out onto the porch, eyes wide and heart in her throat. Because he could think of nowhere else that would be safe. Where he would be accepted without hesitation.

And as she had helped him down from the saddle, as he had practically collapsed onto her arms, he had apologized. Assured her he would take care of the wound himself, if only she would provide him a place to stay. As though he were a stranger in her home and not her best friend.

“Oh, shush,” she had scolded, ushering him into the house and lowering him onto the nearest chair. “I’ll take care of everything. You just sit down.”

And meekly, he had obeyed.

Now, he watches her with a slightly dazed look, as she tries to save his life.

For that is what she is doing, really. If she doesn’t get this wound to stop bleeding soon, he’ll bleed out.

As it is, she’s afraid he won’t last the night.

She worries her bottom lip and reaches behind her for the bandages lying on the table.

“Care to tell me how this happened?” The sharp bite of fear is in her tone despite her attempts to restrain it.

And really, who cares at this point, anyway? Her fairy boy is hurt, badly. She’s allowed to be a little worried.

Link drags in an unsteady breath.

“Monster fight.”

“The usual, then.” She shakes her head, sighing. “What I wanna know is what kinda monster fight was it that got you this hurt? I don’t think you’ve ever come around looking like this before.”

Link blinks, long and slow. The blue of his eyes seems unnaturally bright. Maybe because of the light, maybe because of pain. Malon thinks it’s likely both. But it almost reminds her of that little fairy that used to follow him around.

“Did you go into a dungeon or somethin’?”

Her gaze is back on her work, now, as she ties the bandages as tightly as possible. But when he speaks she can hear something almost like guilt in his voice.

“I—” A sharp hiss, fingers fisting in the fabric of his tunic. Malon murmurs an apology, trying to ignore the way the sound is like a dagger to her heart. “I was looking for…for something.”

“Lookin’ for something huh?”

She ties off the gauzy strips of fabric now practically holding the man together and takes a moment to survey her work.

That should hold.

Now, to get that bleeding firmly under control before he passes out…or worse. She grasps the bottle of potion that she had snatched from the cupboard earlier. It’s always handy, she has found, for times when the healing power of Lon Lon milk isn’t quite up to par. Times like now.

“That had better have been one important treasure. Did you get it at least?”

A small smile lifts Link’s lips. Somehow, it doesn’t make him look any more alive. He’s too pale, too ashen. There’s too much blood, coating his tunic, coating his hands and dribbling down from his mouth and nose.

But at least he has the strength to smile. Malon is willing to appreciate small miracles.

“Yeah, I got it.”

Something in the way he says it makes her slightly suspicious. But she hardly has time to figure out why. She wipes her hands on a nearby cloth, quickly so as not to take in just how stark the crimson looks against the white. Then, she uncorks the potion bottle and gets to her feet.

Link moves trembling, crimson drenched fingers toward the bottle. But she shakes her head.

“Uh-uh. You’re weak. Let me.”

With one careful hand, she tips his chin up and holds the bottle to his lips with the other. He swallows its contents obediently.

“That should help,” she says, once he’s finished. She turns away, setting the bottle back on the table. “At the very least you won’t be bleeding everywhere anymore.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs. He sounds a bit stronger already, she thinks. But maybe she’s just fooling herself to distract from the worry currently chewing a hole in her gut.

“Anytime, fairy boy.”

Malon inspects the wound one more time, reassuring herself that it’s no longer in danger of bleeding through the bandages. Thankfully, the potion already seems to be doing its job. The bandages remain a clean, cottony white.

“Looks like you’re out of the danger zone,” she says with a sigh of relief. “But you’re gonna need some rest and a new set of clothes.”

She looks over him once more, frowning. He raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I’m gonna have to tend to those other wounds of yours too. I swear, you look like you let the horses trample you.”

There is a distinct twinkle in his eye now. Already, he is beginning to look a little more like himself.

“Ah, it’s a…a good look then. A seasoned adventurer kind of look.”

Her lips quirk up even as she glares at him.

“No. It’s not a good look. I thought that much was implied. And it’s the kind that gives me a heart attack.”

He grins. But it quickly turns into a grimace as she sets about cleaning a cut along his neck. Gently, she tilts her head to get a better look at it.

“Stay still, now, and let me work.”

He mumbles a tired-sounding reply. His eyes are beginning to drift closed, despite his efforts to keep them open. And as she tackles each injury, he grows closer and closer toward losing his grip on consciousness completely. But the time he is cleaned up and she has managed to help him fumble into one of Talon’s spare tunics he is practically asleep.

“There,” she murmurs, setting aside the bowl of water and multiple cloths that she had used. They tinge the water pink. “Feelin a little better now?”

She knows that she is. The terror of earlier has abated somewhat, every steady breath, every beat of his heart convincing her that the danger is gone. At least, for now.

For now, her fairy boy is safe. For now, her hands don’t shake.

He hums, sleepily. His gaze is trained on the fireplace now, seemingly mesmerized by the flames dancing there. But when she drapes a blanket over him he drags his gaze up to meet hers.

“Hey, Mal.”

“Yeah?”

“I…I think I’m in love with you.” He frowns, thought obviously a difficult task at the moment. “No…know I am.”

Malon stops short, edges of the blanket still clutched in her suddenly shaky hands. A short bark of laughter escapes, a bit louder than she means it to be.

“I think you’ve lost a little bit too much blood.”

“‘m fine,” he retorts, scowling. “Malon ‘m serious. I love you.”

Shaking her head, she tucks the blanket up around his chin and presses a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Alright, fairy boy. It’s time for you to get some sleep. We can pick up this conversation in the morning.”

His scowl becomes decidedly pouty, though he has little choice but to comply. His eyes slip closed, breath beginning to even out.

By the time, Malon has cleaned up the gory mess (she never wants to see this much blood again, especially not from him), and put away her tools, he is long gone. She allows herself a moment to gaze at him, slumbering peacefully, face illuminated by the flickering flames. He is less pale now and with the blood gone he looks more human. Younger, more like himself.

Reaching out, she rubs her thumb on his cheek, a smile playing on her lips.

“I love you too, Link.”

[serickswrites]

Make Me Your Villain XXVII

Master list link here (includes chapter links, character bios, and summary)

Ok, so we are now winding down with the story gang. This is the last main chapter, though there is a very cheesy epilogue out next week.

Warnings: death, blood, gore (brief mention), broken bones, grief, mcd, funeral, grief rituals, heart break

“I would like to pay my respects,” the red-haired man said once Nova had let Henry hold her. Someone had set his wrist. She would heal it later. Right now she barely had any energy to keep her eyes open. Not that she wanted to keep them open. Liam was dead, what did it matter. Did anything matter? “When you are ready of course. My family and I would like to say thank you once more.”

“We would as well,” another civilian family said as they stepped forward.

Nova looked around in awe as more and more of the civilians Liam had worked so tirelessly to save stepped forward. He had saved countless lives. A significant portion of Hiraethian’s population was alive because of Liam and everything he had done.

The mayor stepped forward. “I would like to offer the opportunity to all of those whose lives have been impacted by Liam by offering a state funeral.”

She couldn’t be serious. “Absolutely not,” Nova said angrily. She would not allow the mayor make a mockery of Liam.

The mayor’s eyes widened in surprise. “Of course I don’t mean to intrude on your mourning. Perhaps instead of a state funeral, we can still have an chance to honor him. Let him lie in state.”

Nova opened her mouth to give a scathing reply, but Henry cut her off. “We would be honored. Thank you.”

Nova glared at him but didn’t say anything. They could fight when they got back to the Haven.

The mayor’s eyes brightened a touch. “Wonderful. I will have the best funeral director in town meet with you later today. They can go over with you how you would like to have him arranged and interred.”

“I don’t want that. He wouldn’t want that. I want to take him home.” Nova had stopped listening to the mayor. Had stopped listening to anyone as she stared down at Liam once more. She wanted to take him home, clean him, put him in his best clothes, and then…Then she could begin to say goodbye.

Henry quickly added, “We would be happy to host them and go over how to arrange the ceremony.”

Somehow they got back to the Haven. Nova wasn’t entirely sure who was with them. She didn’t care. She just wanted to be alone with Liam. It had taken two people to carry Liam into the med bay and lay him on the exam table. Was he always this big? Had he always taken up so much space? He was a giant among men. She stared at him, the painful silence in the room growing.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered as a lone tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I failed you.”

She stood over him and cupped his cheek. His skin was cold and sticky where the flecks of blood had dried. “I wish it was me. It was supposed to be me. You should have let it been me.

“But you wouldn’t be you if you let it be me.” She wiped her tears away.

Nova went to the sink and filled a basin with water. She grabbed towels and a chair. She placed the basin and towels on the instrument table and placed the chair by Liam’s head. “I love you, more than anything, Liam,” Nova said as she dipped a towel in the and wiped along Liam’s jaw.

She repeated the process over and over. Until the basin was filled with pink water. She started the process again, when Henry walked in. “Oh,” was all he managed to say.

She didn’t respond. She just kept dipping the towel in water and wiping Liam’s face. His neck.

“Can I join you?” Henry said, finally breaking the silence.

Nova nodded, not trusting her voice. It should have been her. This was her fault. She failed. Failed all of them.

Together, Henry and Nova cleaned Liam’s body. They worked in silence, each in their own grief. They cleaned and combed his hair. Cleaned his face, neck, chest, stomach, and arms of all the blood coating them. They removed the tattered shirt from his ruined chest. Nova began to sob again as the extent of his chest wound was revealed. Jude had punched clean through Liam’s chest, completely destroying his heart.

Eventually, after they had dressed him in his finest outfit—the suit he had worn when they got married—Henry spoke again. “I’ll go see if the funeral director is here. She will stop him from….,” his voice broke, “from decaying. You two can discuss what you want to do after.”

Nova nodded again. She didn’t care if the funeral director could make him look like he was alive. She couldn’t bring him back to life. He was gone. She had failed in healing him. She stared down into his eyes once more. Eyes that she had stared into endlessly. Eyes that she knew better than her own. Eyes that, as her grief became all consuming once more, she would never see smile again. Never see laugh. Never see as he made love to her. Never see again.

“I love you, forever and always,” she said, wishing she could hear and I love you, gorgeous, in this life and the next one more time. She kissed his lips delicately. Then she kissed each cheek. And finally, she kissed his forehead as she closed his eyes, one last time.

The funeral director, as it turned out, had powers. She could freeze time, and her assistant was a green-crafter—someone who could manipulate plants. They had laid out a plan of letting Liam lie in state in the open air, wreathed in flowers of Nova’s choosing. Nova didn’t really care for the discussion until the assistant asked her for plans for after the ceremony.

“He wanted to be cremated,” Nova managed to say softly. That was all she knew about his wishes. He had believed he wouldn’t live long enough to really have a funeral plan. Nor one that would have so many attendees.

“And after?” The assistant had warm, hazel eyes. Her dark hair was in a neat knot at the nape of her neck.

And after didn’t matter, Nova wanted to say. And after and everything is over. But she couldn’t say that. Couldn’t do that. Because the truth was Nova didn’t want to let him go. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being somewhere in a wall or the ground.

The assistant nodded at Nova’s stomach. “I hear a congratulations are in order, but I’m sure it doesn’t feel that way now. Perhaps you want something for your child to know him by.”

Henry hugged Nova close as Nova began to cry again. “Could we take some time to think about it? What are our options?”

“Well, of course you can take your time. As for options—“

“Can you make a tree grow from seed quickly?” Nova said, not caring that the woman was in the middle of speaking.

The assistant smiled. “Yes, yes I can.”

“I want him here. At the Haven. We have plenty of space. Could you make a willow grow?”

“Over him? Yes, I can. And I can make it so it will never die. It will grow old, large, and strong, but it will never get sick, never fall, and never die.”

And not only be an undying symbol of her grief, but also of his triumphant victory. “Your child will be able to swing safely from its branches, to climb its boughs, and rest under the cool shade of their father’s tree. I can do that for you, Nova. And for him.”

***

Nova found herself sitting with Henry opposite the glass casket that they had laid Liam in. He was wreathed with hundreds upon hundreds of roses. The fragrance was sickening. She watched as the crowd passed him. Some paused to stare, while others paused to speak a few words. Several tried to touch him, hence the glass casket.

She could barely stomach the affair. These were the same people that had thrown rocks at his body, had spit on him, cursed him, and celebrated his death only days ago. These were the same people that had shunned him for fifteen years. Had blamed him for the evil of the world.

“They’re so fake,” Nova said to Henry.

Henry flexed his newly healed wrist as though it was still sore. “Not all of them. There were the ones he saved. The ones he told to keep quiet to keep safe until it was time. And it is time.”

“But that’s not all of them here now, Henry.” Nova hated this. Hated every moment of this. But she couldn’t bear to part with Liam. Not yet.

“They didn’t know, Nova.”

Nova crinkled her nose. She would never smell another rose again after this. “They don’t deserve him. They don’t deserve to pay respects to him.”

Henry turned and looked at her full on. His face was pinched with his sadness. “But he does. He deserves the respect and so much more. He deserved to live. To be happy. And to live a long happy life with you. With us. But that didn’t happen. Let him have this. Let him have the love and peace he so desperately fought for. That he died for, Nova. Let him have that.”

Nova opened her mouth and closed it. Henry was right. Liam deserved the world. And he didn’t get it. She swiped at her eyes with a tissue. Liam deserved this. She wasn’t going to take this away. No matter how much it hurt her. “They don’t deserve forgiveness. I can’t forgive them.”

“And you don’t have to. He would have, of course,” Henry said with a soft smile. “But he was better than me.” Nova nodded in agreement. “Better than me.” She leaned her head on Henry’s shoulder.

Henry wrapped his arm around her. “He was the best. The world didn’t deserve him, Nova. And now that he’s….gone,” Henry’s voice caught for a moment. “Now that he’s gone, we can only honor him. Honor his memory. His legacy.”

Henry nodded to Nova’s stomach. She put her hand on her stomach, wishing she could feel the baby. She scanned her body, feeling the baby’s heart pulsing, feeling its peacefulness as it grew within her.

“I won’t let his death be in vain. I will fight to maintain this peace he created. Until my dying breath. I will keep the two of you safe, Nova. For as long as I live.” Henry squeezed Nova’s shoulder as they watched more civilians trickle by.

***

Three days later, he held her as the funeral director’s assistant planted a seed above the compostable urn containing Liam’s earthly remains. Nova had planted the urn, despite her hands shaking uncontrollably. This was it.

“It will take a few moments to grow, but it will be full grown within the hour.”

Henry guided Nova back to a safe distance as they watched the seed take root and grow. By the time the tree’s leaves kissed the ground, the branches towering high above them, Nova was a sobbing mess on the grass, shaded by the tree. Because Liam was really gone.

Tags: @dutifullykrispyland@jesssmolfur@parad0xical2@st0rmm@keeper-of-all-the-random-things

@pigeonwhumps@gala1981@allylovessweets@whumpitywhumpwhump @giggly-evil-puppy

@cravesunconditionallove @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @ay5ksal @celestialsoyeon

@hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @knightinbatteredarmor @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@whump-me-harder

[ravenzeppeli]

🩸Twisted Fate |Yandere Ghiaccio x Reader Angst|

Warning: strong/violent language, threats, kidnapping, murder [random men], physical abuse, dark thoughts [thoughts of - noncon, abuse, torture], verbal abuse, torture [broken bones, choking, beating]. Extremely dark - MA.

Comission

Ghiaccio's POV

Ghiaccio could clearly remember the day that you vanished away from him eight years ago, your entire family, as well as you moving away. For years, he's tried to track you down, searching for you, for any signs of your existence so he could return you back to himself. You belonged to him, and one day, he felt as if you would return to him.

As the years passed, he started to lose hope, his mafia affiliations being no help in tracking you down either. How could someone just up and vanish? The pain of losing you was hard for him, his sadness turning into a permanent, icy rage that he could no longer control. How dare you just up and leave him after he promised to marry you once the two of you turned 18. You've wasted so much of his life with you, and now he's going to be all alone forever. All alone because you fucking left him.

Months had finally passed since he'd last continued his long search for you. Despite him thinking of you every single day, he tried his best to distract himself heavily with work. At night when he got home he would pull out an old picture of you, staring at it until his eyes were fucking blurry and watering. You were permanently burned into the back of his mind. All he was left with was one single fucking picture of you as a reminder of what he lost forever. A reminder of a perfect love that he thought that he lost forever.

As a folder with your picture appeared on the mission table, Ghiaccio's heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he snatched up the folder. Instead of lying to his capo Risotto he explained who you were and how much you meant to him, how you were his high school sweetheart that he lost once the two of you hit adulthood due to you vanishing. Lying to his capo was something that he never did, Risotto was understanding when it came to his men. He was a great captain and someone he trusted deeply.

The man who placed a hit on your head was a random male, a male having no ties to the mafia, but it seemed that you had ties to a completely different mafia organization, a new organization that was trying to rise above the rulings of Passione. The group was small, only five men and you in total, and he planned to fucking kill all five of those bastards. In fact, Risotto gave him permission to kill not only those five men but the man who placed a hit on you as well. As fate would have it, you would be returning to him after all. He would be allowed to keep you. To have you as his again.

Risotto made it clear to Ghiaccio that he would have to complete this on his own, and that if he messed up he may just lose his life, but it was a risk that he was willing to take. It was a risk that he was always willing to take, especially now, considering the stakes were so high. The stakes of you being all his again, rather you fucking liked it or not. You didn't have a choice. You belonged to him, and he would make sure that you would never leave his side again.

It only took him one day to take out the pathetic hitman team that you were a part of. Smaller mafia families always disgust him, and the fact that his beautiful beloved was a part of that? It pissed him off, and it pissed him off even more when he realized that you actively were living 30 minutes away from him. Right under his nose.. for years you've been fucking right here, right under his fucking nose, purposefully avoiding him. How dare you. Why would you not want to be with him?

Tracking you down now that you had no protection wasn't hard. In fact, it seemed as if you were waiting for him. He entered a cheap apartment complex, the dim lights flickering as he pushed into the apartment complex where you lived. One of your fucking teammates ratted out where you were in exchange for his own life. After the man disclosed your location, Ghiaccio blew his fucking cock off with three quick shots, watched him bleed out, enjoying every second of it. That's how he killed all five of your teammates as well as the man that placed a hit on you, feeling enraged with the fact that those men were around you while he was stuck without you for the past eight years.

Sitting right on a worn-out dark leather couch was you, your head raising slowly, body immediately going stiff once you saw him. You looked so much older, so much more beautiful than he remembered.. that pissed him off, his hands balling into fists as he slammed your apartment door shut as he stepped in, locking it with a swift motion.

The tension was so thick that it could be cut with a knife, a knife that he wanted to slice across your soft skin as punishment for leaving him. Your soft, beautiful flesh.. he wanted to fucking tear into you for leaving him. He wanted to beat you bloody, bruise up your pretty little face and break your nose. He wanted to make sweet love to you, filling your cunt with his seed. So many things.. he wanted to do so many beautiful things to you.

"You fucking cunt," Ghiaccio growled, his heart skipping a rapid beat as he approached you. With no hesitation, he pulled out his gun, pointing it straight at you. "Eight fucking years.. I've been waiting eight long years to see you again. Where the fuck did you go!?" He pressed the barrel of the gun to your forehead as you raised your head to look up at him. You couldn't fucking run away from him now, he would blow your goddamn brains out if you tried anything stupid. Or he would crack your head open with the gun, whichever he was feeling.

A tad bit of fear washed over your cute little face, your eyes slightly widening as he pressed the barrel of the gun deeper into your forehead, forcing you to look up at him further. "Ghiaccio," you whispered, venom dripping from your voice. How dare you not speak to him with love. "I didn't want to marry you so I left. We were graduating in a week so I panicked and left, I left you a note behind." The disrespect.. he couldn't believe the disrespect that he had endured for so long.

A dry laugh escaped his lips as he dropped the gun from your forehead, a small circle imprint being on the center of your forehead due to how hard he pressed the gun against your forehead. His free hand balled into a tight fist, crashing into the side of your head with force, your body limply falling to the side. "NO!" He screamed, rage filling his body. "Your shitty note only said bye and nothing else, you dumb cunt!"

Anger completely took over his body in this moment as he climbed on top of you, his fist raising, crashing into the side of your face, making a low pop sound, a pained cry escaping your lips. "Cry, fucking cry you unloyal whore! I know you let those men fuck you, they said you didn't but I know they're lying! You're mine, you're fucking mine!" He raised his body slighly, his fist raising again.

A sharp sting across Ghiaccio's cheek caused him to freeze up, his glasses flying off of his face, making a light thump sound as they hit the ground. In the past, when he beat you up, you would cry and beg for mercy. Never did you hit him back in the past. These eight years have changed you. They've made you unclean. He didn't like the feeling of not having control over you. He expected to slip into immediate control.

"Fuck you," you spat up at him, your blood coating his face. "I hate you, I never loved you!" Tears were rolling down your face, that causing a grin to appear on his lips, despite your words and you slapping him, your tears meant that he was breaking you again. What he was about to do to you, he would take much joy in it. He would enjoy this so fucking much, because as beautiful as you are, as much as he wanted to marry and impregnate you, you needed to be hurt. If he hurt you badly, he would just fix you up. It was fine, he could fix you up and buy you things later on once he finished destroying you mentally as he did oh so long ago.

Your entire face was bloody, blood pouring from the side of your head, your entire left side of your face sporting a large purple bruise that had blood seeping from a small cut the middle of the large bruise. Your bottom lip was slightly rolled out, swollen with little bite marks from where you bit down on your lip. You must have done that to muffle your pain. How fucking pathetic.

He grabbed the hand that dared to slap him, bending three of your fingers back until he heard three snaps. "Dumb cunt, think I care about your love!?" He snapped, low sobs escaping your mouth, your body finally trembling beneath him as he held up your hand, your three broken fingers starting to swell and turn purple. "I will rip your fucking fingers off and shove them down your throat if you ever slap me again! Now apologize before your entire arm gets broken, you brainless bitch!"

"S-sorry," you gasped out, his other hand quickly wrapping around your throat, beginning to squeeze.

Killing you would be so easy, so easily he could squeeze your fragile little throat until your body went limp. He could leave you here to rot, leave your body in this dump of a place for the rats to pick at you. No.. he's waited this long. He's waited for you to come home with him and marry him. You belonged with him, he couldn't just end your life. Ending your life would mean that you would be gone forever. He wanted to kiss and fuck you, he wanted you to be his property again.

He continued to squeeze, watching the life slowly drain from your eyes as you weakly wiggled beneath him. "Come back with me or die." His hand squeezed harder as your mouth muttered 'die', his other hand raising, beginning to repeatedly punch you in your stomach, not using his full strength so that you could still answer him. "Come back with me! Marry me! I'll beat you to death, I'll strip you naked and beat you for weeks until you die! I know how to keep someone alive for a long time, I've tortured countless men to death!"

Pained moans escaped your lips, your tears mixing with your blood, staining your neck red. "Fine!" You cried out, blood spilling from your mouth. "S-stop, I'll do it!"

He let go of your throat, leaving a dark bruise behind, the blood that coated your neck caked onto the side of his hand. He didn't mind. After all, you deserved this beating. You deserved to have your throat fucking slit for leaving him those many years ago, but he would push that from his mind. After all, he loved you. He didn't want to kill you, he only wanted to beat you so that you would love him and be submissive. He would beat all of the ignorance out of you, beating his love into you.

"I love you baby," he muttered, his throat sore from all of the yelling that he's done all day. He's yelled more today than he's ever has in his entire life, and that was saying a lot. "I've searched for you these past years, I'm so happy that you'll be returning to me." He let himself lean down, his body leaning over you as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your limp body into a tight hug. "My sweet girl, did you think I wouldn't find you? It was fate, we are meant to be!" That folder showed up for a reason. Fate wanted you to be his. The universe had brought you back into his arms, and he was so grateful.

"P-please," you sobbed, but he didn't know why you were sobbing. Shouldn't you be happy that he found you again? "I don't wa -"

"I don't give a fuck!" He snapped, raising his hand, roughly smacking the back of your head. "Now hug me back. I'm your fiancé now, and soon I'll be your husband. You'll be beaten and fucked until you are perfect."

Weaky, your arms wrapped around him, sobs escaping your mouth as you clung to him. You said nothing, and he liked that you weren't saying anything. You just needed to shut the fuck up and accept his anger. You being submissive and kind will get you treats, fighting back and being mouthy would get your teeth knocked down your throat. Either way, he would get what he wanted. All he wanted was you, he found you beautiful with or without a fucked up face and missing teeth. The choice was up to you.

"Good girl," he muttered, sitting up as he pulled you into his lap, placing a kiss on your forehead. "I'm so glad to finally have you back. Isn't fate perfect?" He got no reply, a satisfied hum escaping your lips as your head weakly rested on his chest, your low sobs providing him with comfort, a smile appearing on his lips as he listened to you sob and shake in his arms. He was so happy to have you back, so relieved. Relieved because now you were his again, and he wouldn't ever let you slip away from his grasp again.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,997 Words

Summary: The daycare crew are having a normal night. Or so they think.

Warnings: Injury, Blood, Gore, Amputation, Stabbing, Broken Bones, Eye Trauma, Bruises, Waterboarding, Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Controlled Shock, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Prosthetics, Blindness, Partial Blindness, Trauma, PTSD, let me know if I should add anything else.

Abnormality

Tonight was unusually…normal. Sun was cleaning up the daycare for the day. Moon helping with things that needed fixing like the one bent bar in the play structure he was currently bending back to normal. Lunar was preparing for tomorrow like he usually did.

The only thing really missing was Solar. He wasn’t sitting at the security desk taking inventory of the children pre-checked in for tomorrow. Usually Solar would take great pride in making the list and taking note of any children with accommodations and making sure everything needed for the accommodations were taken care of.

But he was notably absent. None of the three had noticed this until almost halfway through closing procedure since Solar was usually to himself about it. But his occasional muttering that was not there was weird not to hear at this point. It was unnerving not to hear it, hear him giving little chuckles when the known rowdy or rambunctious kids were on the list.

“Sun, have you seen Solar today?” Moon asked.

“No, why, have you?” Sun responded almost immediately, almost as if he’d been waiting for the question to be asked.

“Guys, if Solar’s missing or something, we’ve gotta find him. He’s our brother too!” Lunar told them from where he was just finished with the coloring pages and crayons.

“I agree. I have to patrol soon anyway, I’ll go look-“ Moon was cut off by the heavy daycare door being opened and a form collapsing on the ground. It was a barely recognizable figure but he still knew exactly who it was.

The collapsed heap on the floor was dripping water, blood, and oil. Their right arm entirely missing with wires exposed and fizzling still. Their hair was clumped and tangled with water and oil and blood and what looked suspiciously like acid of some kind.

Their back had two knives stuck into it still, their face sitting against the floor with their clumped hair shrouding it. Their clothes were waterlogged and bloody and oily. Moon could also visibly see that their leg had been broken in two places at minimum.

“What the-!” Lunar screeched, looking at the person in horror at their state. In truth, Moon was shaken by it too. He knew he’d have to fix it, but the sheer amount of injuries was horrific. He couldn’t imagine how they felt.

“S-Solar?” Moon asked, shakily kneeling by him and moving his hair off his face. Moon almost vomited at the sight. Solar’s right eye was hanging from it socket and he had a large stab wound in the other, which was fizzling with severed wires.

“Please, no more.” Solar had a fraction of his voice, his voice box sounded broken and crushed, actually. And it was letting out white and jarring sounds as he begged for an end to the torture that had already ended.

Moon could see the damage to it visibly. His throat had handprints on it, deep and bruised in already. It sent fire through him. He wasn’t scared anymore, he was absolutely livid. He gently held Solar’s remaining hand and he didn’t care that his hand got covered in liquids as he put his hand on Solar’s head and pet his hair as best he could.

“You’re okay. You’re safe, Solar.” Moon tried to assure him.

“Please, Crescent, stop!” Solar’s voice broke and whirred like gears and a few musical notes played in Solar’s distress. But the words had hit Moon harder than Solar’s panic.

Crescent? The same Crescent he’d ran away from? Moon felt a whirl of emotions as he got Solar into his arms as carefully as possible, avoiding the knives that would have to stay in for now. They hadn’t just basically allowed Solar to be tortured all day with their neglect to check on him, but they’d left him at the mercy of his abusive brother who had somehow managed to get through dimensions.

“That’s…Solar…” Sun’s horrified voice came from nearby and Moon nodded to tell him he was correct. Moon could hear Lunar throwing up into one of the trash cans.

Moon felt something before he saw it, having been touching Solar. It felt like jolts. Moon’s horror grew seeing Solar had a few sparks and glitches before Solar let out a scream, filled with glitches and whirs as a controlled shock wracked his body.

With his proximity and contact, Moon felt the volts of it and it made his endo ache with sparks but he refused to put him down. He refused to let his brother hurt alone. He tightened his grip to give Solar what comfort he could and held him until the shock ended.

Solar fizzled and jolted with aftershocks, his body twitching and his mouth leaking oil and blood at the toll the shock took on his already battered body. He didn’t deserve this but Crescent had decided he did for whatever reason.

“Sun, take care of Lunar. I need to fix him.” Moon told him and called his fly wire. The hallway to his room would be too long of a walk. So fly wire to get up to the balcony it was.

Moon was at this for hours, Sun and occasionally Lunar coming in to check on them. But finally Moon had fixed Solar as best he could.

Solar’s leg had been set, the endo fused on the breaks and plating put in to support it. His new ‘prosthetic’ arm was tuned successfully and connected properly to Solar’s wires and his systems. Moon had managed to replace Solar’s right eye but the wires in the left weren’t salvageable so he’d put in a spacer replacement eye until he found a way to fix the wires and replace the eye properly.

Moon was working on washing Solar’s hair and face off the blood and oil when Solar finally woke up from his temporary power off. Solar jolted up, fighting something Moon couldn’t see and screaming once he felt the water and washcloth on his face and protecting his head.

In a blind panic, Solar swiped at Moon’s arms and it caused him to drop the bowl of water he was holding onto the floor but Moon gently held Solar’s hands, shushing him and slowly calming him down.

“Don’t do that again! Please, Crescent, please!” Solar hiccuped.

“He’s not here, it’s okay. It’s me, it’s Moon. You’re safe, Solar.” Moon assured him, bringing him up to sit so Moon could hold him.

“I…I was so scared…” Solar’s voice broke and it made Moon’s heart ache.

“I’m so sorry, Solar. I’m sorry we weren’t there when you needed us. But Crescent will never hurt you again, I promise.” Moon assured him, rubbing his back.

“N-No water. No more water.” Solar sniffled.

“Why no water?” Moon asked. Then the realization dawned on him. The water in Solar’s artificial lungs that he’d had to siphon out. The way water had only doused Solar’s face and hair.

“He waterboarded me. Please no water.” Solar hiccuped.

“Okay, we’ll use the sanitizer station instead. That way there’s no water.” Moon assured him.

“Don’t leave.” Solar whispered.

“I’m not leaving. None of us are leaving you alone. Not until we get that asshole and make him pay.” Moon rubbed his back as he helped him up. Solar was shaky on his net fixed leg but Moon held his arms around him to support him relearning to use the limb properly.

Moon got him to the sanitizer station and went in with him since he wasn’t stable yet and let Solar hide against him as the machine beeped and filled the pod with sanitizer mist.

Solar trembled a little bit Moon made sure he was comfortable against him and pressed his head against Solar’s, tucking Solar’s face into his neck. The machine whirred and dropped down the machine that Moon carefully put Solar’s hair into for it to use steam and sanitizer to wash it out.

For how scared he’d been, Solar was being incredibly brave at the moment, letting the machine clean him without water while he clung to Moon. Once Solar was sanitized, Moon grabbed a towel once the machine stopped and wiped off Solar’s face softly, avoiding his mouth and nose so it wouldn’t send him into a panic again.

He wrapped the towel around Solar after and led him out, drying him off of the mist and more so hiding his body so Solar felt like he had the security of not being nude. Moon didn’t mind to see his siblings naked, but Solar was newly traumatized, Moon didn’t want to add another layer of stress to the situation.

“I have clothes for you in your room. Do you want me there or to help you?” Moon asked.

“I can do it.” Solar told him. “Stay outside?”

“Of course.” Moon agreed, leading him to his room and Moon stood outside waiting as Solar shakily closed over but didn’t shut the door.

“How is he?” Sun whispered.

“He’s alright now. I’m gonna kill Crescent and present Solar his head as a trophy. The damage was so extensive I had to replace most of his internals.” Moon whispered back.

“It was that bad? It didn’t look that bad…” Sun looked at the closed over door in confusion. Sun was right, it hadn’t looked as bad as it had been.

“A lot of blunt force trauma to his internals. His abdomen was beginning to swell by the time I found the bleeding because it was so full of oil and blood.” Moon sighed. Solar had been in such horrible condition, he was glad he’d had enough parts on hand to replace everything and his computer had been able to synthesize new parts and the prosthetics.

“Moon? Sun?” Solar asked, slowly opening the door. Thankfully he’d managed to get dressed successfully, and he hadn’t needed help. Moon was a bit proud, he thought it would take longer for Solar to accustom himself to his new eye and new arm.

“Hey, Sol.” Moon gently brought him in for a hug.

“I’m really hungry. Can I eat?” Solar asked.

“Yeah, I knew you would be. I replaced your stomach. I told Lunar to make something light so you don’t stress all the new internals.” Moon smiled. He would be happy for Solar. Protective more so than normal, but happy Solar was home and he was safe and recovering.

“What did he make, do you know?” Solar asked.

“Well, he knows your food sensitivities so he made smoothies and chicken and pasta soup for dinner, I think.” Sun piped up.

“I’ll have to thank him.” Solar gave a little smile as he let the twins lead him to the kitchen in the break room that was usually for the daycare kids but they used it as their own kitchen as well.

“You don’t need to thank anyone for anything, we’re your brothers. We love you and we want to see you healthy and happy. Doing these things for you like making you food or fixing you even are small in comparison to how much you mean to us.” Moon ruffled his hair and Solar couldn’t hold back the teary smile and Moon loved seeing him smile. Solar was such a hard-working sweetheart, it was nice to see him relax and be taken care of , especially after something so horrible happened to him.

“I hear my big brothers!” lunar called out.

“Yeah, you caught us.” Sun chuckled.

“Get those tall butts in here and get your food. I already fed the kitties too.” Solar gave a laugh as he pet one of the cats sitting on the far end of the counter.

“Hi Ratchet.” Sun greeted his cat.

“My god, his name is Ratchet?” Solar asked with a laugh.

“Well, there’s Ratchet, Hatchet, and Bubble.” Sun told him.

“Moon?” Solar asked for Moon’s attention.

“Yes?” Moon asked back with a little chuckle.

“We’re never letting Sun name a cat ever again.” Solar snorted.

[sysmedsaresexist]

I snapped today

(Well, yesterday, but I made a point of sitting on this to make sure it was what I wanted to do)

I'll be making a post at some point to address some of the drama that I'm sure many of you have been seeing over the last couple months, but before I do, I want to just talk about something personal.

Edit: this is the post. This is the only post I'm going to make addressing the drama. This will be my response.

A vent, rant, I don't know under the cut.

The TL;dr I broke my leg in a way that fucked it up for life and I'm depressed and struggling and being dragged into drama. I want to talk about it, because I never talk about this stuff, and I'm so tired of all of it.

I'm too old for this kind of drama.

A deep dive into my mental health, physical status, my side of the story, and a message for anyone still struggling with the problemaddtic situation.

Earlier this year, I slipped.

I was telling one of my clients about it at work, he's an older gentleman, very sweet, and his reaction still makes me smile.

He asked how I fell, and I said it was black ice.

His eyes went wide. "Black ice? That's dangerous and invisible!"

It sure is, friendo... it sure is.

It was really bad. Both sides of my ankle were crushed to dust. I was in a cast for nearly 8 months. I got an infection around the metal pins and was ill. The pins had to be pulled early, which extended my recovery.

I still dream about the feeling of them trying to pry the pins out of me. You're awake when they do it.

11 months later, I'm still in physio, I've had to add chiro and ortho to my weekly appointments. Most days, I walk with a very heavy limp. I don't have full rotation of my ankle, and I hurt myself a lot by turning too quickly. I still struggle to stand for long periods-- like cooking dinner or showering.

It's becoming increasingly apparent that because of the amount of "hardware" in my leg that I won't get full rotation back. I already have arthritis, so this is wonderful.

I hurt. A lot.

It's not the pain of a broken ankle or leg.

It's this constant, dull throb in my bones. It's the constant "full" feeling as I walk, like my ankle is surrounded by a thick gel that slows its movement. It's sharp, breathtaking stabs when I turn wrong or too quickly. It's the pain that's spread to my already damaged and arthritic hips that keeps me up at night. It's never being able to get comfortable.

Mentally, I'm a wreck.

I already hated this body, and now my leg is scarred and deformed. I'm constantly terrified I'm going to fall again. I'm incredibly self conscious about whether people can tell and if they're judging me. I can't walk fast enough to keep up with crowds, and people are cruel about it. My balance is horrible. I'm realizing all the things I won't be able to do.

I love hiking so goddamn much, and my dream of hiking the orcas island is dashed.

In 2012, after the assault that nearly killed us, it was where we were sent to heal. Elevation 2,500ft. See that little tiny thing at the top?

It's an old observation tower. The end of the hike. I was only able to hike half at the time, but I was driven to the top.

I'll never hike that now. I'll never finish my goal after the assault.

My relationships have taken a massive hit.

I'm angry.

I'm so fucking angry.

He was just a kid, that was just a bit late to his job. The lot should have been salted twenty minutes earlier. As I was lifted into the ambulance, I saw him standing at the front entrance, with his little shovel and bucket of salt. The nephew of the owners, and I could see the fear in his expression. A way to save money over hiring an outside crew.

And now my life will never be the same.

I'm angry for everything that was taken from me.

I'm angry because it doesn't feel fair.

I'm angry because I'm scared all the time now. It won't be much longer before the first snow. I cry every time I think about it.

I'm struggling to come to terms with things.

Today, I had to be in the office, and it was really rough. Normally, I can work from home, but I need to be on site every couple of days. I'm really struggling with forward movement the last few days, and I'm just in a lot of pain after that much walking.

And something snapped in us today.

"Good forbid I mentally NEED to maintain my own sense of peace for a few months so I don't fucking off myself at the idea of my new depressing life as a goddamn cripple"

I have a lot of feelings about this message that I sent to the person posting about me.

I don't like the message. I want to know which one of us is responsible-- who has such deeply negative feelings about disability. I know we're struggling, but maybe I didn't realize how much.

It's terrifying when you have a CDD and your alters talk like that. Looking around in your own head like, "okay, raise your hand if you want... to die..." and everyone is like

"Does anyone want to claim that message?"

In the screenshots below, you'll see me say the above. I guess I just want to provide context and get out thoughts that have been trapped in my head.

I just want this person to leave me alone.

Between my injury, the drama with AEV and our change in stance from anti to pro--

Finally putting an end to my petty drama with Sophie, and ongoing drama with another system that we were casually flirty with for a hot minute (fucking try me, seriously, I don't care anymore, always threatening to publicly post our fucked up relationship drama, GO AWAY, YOU WILL ALSO LOOK BAD IF YOU DO THAT, YOU WILL ONLY SUCCEED IN HUMILIATING US BOTH AND ACTUALLY DOXXING ME), we refused to take part in the release of the most recent sophie doc.

All of this was happening at once.

Now don't get me wrong here-- I've already explained this in another post. It was mostly my content being used in the doc, and that of one of my friends, and I agreed to help go through my posts. I ATTEMPTED to participate in the creation of the doc, though eventually I admitted defeat and said that I would not be able to help. Every time I opened my old posts I hated myself more. I don't like that person. I hated the way I behaved.

And I was struggling so much with finally seeing Sophie as a real person with real feelings and Reasons™️ for doing things. Just like I have reasons for doing things. Just like you have reasons for doing things.

I told them I was struggling, and how and why.

I told them in my very first message that I would not publicly participate, for all the reasons mentioned.

I was not well.

And the posts being made about me are in anger that I didn't stand up for the doc or them.

The one I specifically said I would not get publicly involved with.

And while I wanted to support you in the aftermath, your final messages made me feel as though I shouldn't reach out to check on you. There are several people that will tell you that I worry about you, that I have nothing but positives to say about you, that I stress that you're Going Through It™️ and should be left alone.

People ask me about your posts, whether they're true, what's going on. You have me blocked, but I know you're going to see this. I don't need to look at your blog to know what you're saying, complete strangers fill me in.

It's fantastic, I feel great.

Every time I start to relax, someone new reaches out and it starts all over again. I'm so tired of drama.

Despite everything, despite the fact that you hurt me too, despite the fact that you're actively traumatizing me right now, I still apologized to you.

You'll get your post, but it'll be the truth.

You sent a LOT of messages, at the time I couldn't read them, I mentally could not handle it after our last conversation, but I got the impression you wanted me to post something. I was right.

Today I learned about a new post, and a new blog, and I snapped. I finally managed to bring myself to read your messages in full. And I responded, prompting ANOTHER post about how I'm trying to silence you.

I'm not doing this anymore.

Here are the messages. People can decide for themselves.

But let's actually talk about what you're blaming me for.

While I posted several times about you on my blog, these are the posts in question, where I supposedly started this "rumor", almost two years ago.

TW, SA, ending after the next set of images

When I first read your post, my first thought was, "that's what he said to me."

For survivors, "the only thing you're good for," often brings their assault or abuse to mind. Is the problem that I tagged it as SA? Is that how you think the "rumor" started?

Whether you intended to trigger people or not, you did.

I'm sorry that you're still receiving harassment, and I ask that whoever is reaching out to blue's mutuals to leave them alone. That entire situation was a mess and everyone played a part.

Chances are, though, you're not sending those messages because of me or on behalf of me. It's far more likely that you're sending them because you, yourself, were triggered by blue's words and behaviour.

I don't really have a right to tell you to stop, if that's the case, but as much as I've changed, so has blue.

Everyone deserves a second chance.

People gave me one.

Blue, I meant it, you're brilliant and funny, you deserve better, and I'm so sorry this is happening to you. I wanted to be friends, I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I never wanted to. I'm sorry that I wasn't well enough to help you. I thought I had been clear.

Now everyone leave me alone.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Hand in Hand (part eight)

@whumptober Alt. 12: Broken

cw: broken bones (didn't see that coming did you :) ), death mention, deathwish

prev ///// au masterlist ///// next

~ ~ ~

He's on the verge of sleep when he hears noise outside the room; shuffling, muted voices, the click of the lock.

It's time to act.

Dan knows nothing is optimal about the situation; he'll be outnumbered for sure, and even if he wasn't, he'd already be at a significant disadvantage from his physical condition. Surprise is the only tool he has, and once he uses it, he knows he can't hesitate. It's all or nothing. Escape now, or die trying. Better that than this unlife Swift has him trapped in.

He'll wait for them to unlock his restraints, of course. He'll probably even let them get a good distance down the hall, let them sink into the complacency of routine, then he'll make his gambit. If there's only two guards this time, he stands a fighting chance. Hell, even with three, he might just be desperate enough to pull it off. And if he fails... if he fails, he can only hope that she doesn't let Wes suffer for it for long.

Dan closes his eyes, breathing slow and quiet as the door swings open. If he feigns sleep, will they be put more at ease?

"Good afternoon, Mr. Melchior."

His eyes fly open, and he turns his head fast enough that his previously-subdued headache flares back to life, making him wince.

The guards are here, but they aren't alone. Mercury Swift is at their side, smiling down at him.

A sick feeling begins to coil in his stomach, his body sensing a wrongness before his mind can catch up. It's okay, he tells himself. Don't panic. Let her say her piece and save the plan for next time.

But what is her piece? She's never come directly to his room like this, he's always been brought to her. Is she here to make threats? Tell him how she'll be puppeting him at the next meeting?

"Is it already afternoon?" he replies, the words scraping against his throat as they leave it. He doesn't care.

"Ah, forgive me. It must be difficult to tell the time from in here."

"What do you want?" He's too tired to carry the banter for long. He just wants her to spit it out and leave him alone.

To his surprise, she doesn't chastise him for being impolite. "Straight to the point, then." Her smile widens. "I've been doing some thinking these last few days."

Dan's heartbeat is speeding up, thrumming in his chest. He tries to ignore it.

"Since your little... escape stunt, I've realized it's not possible to be too careful."

Breathe. Keep breathing.

Swift turns to one of the guards. "Alright, send him in."

The Riot King leaves, and Dan's chest tightens. Him. Wes? Is she about to force him to watch another fucking demonstration?

But when the door swings back open, it's just another guard, this one holding a heavy metal pipe. His stomach drops.

"Right leg, I think," Swift says to him, then sits back and watches Dan pull uselessly at his chains as the man and the weapon close in on him.

"No..." He needs to think, needs to find a way out of this. "Swift, please," he gulps down air, mind frantic for any words that might sway her. "You've already punished me for the escape, th-this isn't necessary--"

"It isn't a punishment, it's security," she murmurs, sounding disinterested.

"What about the meetings?" he tries. The man reaches the bed. "What will your allies think?"

"You don't need to walk to be useful to me," Swift says. "And is a broken leg really so uncommon?"

The pipe raises, and Dan isn't sure if it's the Riot King holding it that's dragging out the moment, or his own panic. Any plans he has, any hope of making it out, will shatter with the bone. Forget fighting, how will he walk? How will he carry Wes?

"Please!" he cries, jerking on the chains, causing nothing but a sharp clink. "Please, don't do this, I won't do it again, I swear--"

"It's your leg or your friend's," Swift replies. "Make your choice."

The obvious choice is Wes. If Wes can't walk, that's fine. Dan can take care of him. If Dan can't walk, they're both doomed. But even as he opens his mouth, he can't say it.

Spare me. Hurt him instead. Break his leg, make him scream and tell him it's because of me.

He can't. His body is recoiling more from the thought of that than the thought of being hurt.

He can't be responsible for any more of Wes's pain.

He inhales shakily. "No. Don't hurt him."

"That's what I thought."

Dan closes his eyes.

He hears it before he feels it. A brief whoosh as the pipe cuts the air, followed by a sharp sound that's more crunch than crack.

At first, the pain is surreal. A distant, impossible explosion, so bright it hurts his eyes. The air in his lungs freezes, the air in his throat chokes him, and for a moment he can't even scream. His leg, just below his knee, is engulfed in something jagged and inescapable, like someone is taking a cheese grater to the bone.

He barely feels himself being unchained, trying to hold as still as possible to avoid making his leg any worse, and when a hand closes around his wrist, yanking him off the bed, he doesn't even think to fight it.

His now-broken leg is the first thing to hit the ground, and Dan screams, crumpling into a heap. He bangs his head on the bedframe in his haste to take weight off the limb, but he doesn't feel it. Hands catch hold of him from either side, hoisting him back up, and even though he's careful not to let his bad leg touch the ground, the pain is almost enough to steal his consciousness.

He wishes it would.

The guards start walking, dragging him with them, and every little shift is enough to make him cry out. Every bit of strength that remains in him is devoted to keeping the bad leg off the ground, no room left for wondering where they're taking him, wondering what comes next.

Somehow, there's still room for fear. Not the overthinking, frantic planning Dan's used to, but a blind, pain-driven panic.

The movement suddenly stops, and then he's being shoved forward, into colder air, onto rough concrete. The impact with the ground goes right to the shattered bone, sending a sharp wave of nausea through him, and for a long while he can do nothing but lie as still as possible and gasp for air.

He doesn't know how long it takes for his body to get used to the worst of the pain, his consciousness finally pulling back its focus from his leg as it accepts this as his new state.

He's in the cell. Subconsciously, he already knew that, but now that he's actually aware of it, he lifts his head, eyes sweeping the dim room until they land on Wes. The other man is curled up tightly, with his back to Dan. His ribcage is heavily bruised, his skin layered with unhealed welts. Every breath must be agony, but he is still breathing. Still alive. Dan isn't sure if that's a mercy anymore.

He inches towards Wes, pulling on the concrete with his hands, pushing off with his good leg. The movement, however slow, is excruciating, grating against the fragmented bone like the teeth of a predator, but he keeps going, breathing through tightly clenched teeth, not trying to stop the tears from pouring down his face.

This might be it. This might be the last of the time he has with Wes, and he isn't about to waste it. Inch by inch, foot by foot, Dan drags himself across the cell floor, the pain in his leg building to a howl long before he reaches his friend.

But he does reach him. Shuddering, panting, crying, but he's there.

"Wes..?" He reaches out, carefully lays a trembling hand on his shoulder. There's no indication that Wes is conscious, but his bare skin is cold, so Dan shifts again, wincing through the movement, until he's tucked up behind him, chest to back, one arm draped carefully over his side. His leg is throbbing, but Dan holds as still as he can, not wanting to agitate the wounds on Wes's back, the ones he caused.

Fuck, how did things get this bad?

How could his own men hate him enough to let them both suffer like this? How could Swift be so cruel? How could he be stupid enough to let it happen, to let Wes drag himself into it, to not escape when he had the chance? How?

He's truly lost all control. The plan he'd had was a last resort brought on by desperation, but it was still his, it was still something he could've done, even if it was destined to fail.

Now there's nothing he can do. He's whatever Swift wants him to be, and if he isn't, she has no trouble breaking him apart until he's the perfect puzzle piece. He can do nothing---

He could kill Wes.

The one kindness he has the power to grant. He could kill Wes, and ensure Mercury can't drag this out any longer.

He could, but he can't, he knows he can't. He knows Wes will die either way, but he's still not strong enough to at least make it as painless as possible.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"D...an?" the voice is quiet and broken and small.

"I'm here," he says, trying to keep his own voice steady. "I... I can move though, if y-you want."

"Stay. Please."

Dan doesn't need to be told twice. He inches closer still, pressing his face into Wes's neck, wanting to say I'm sorry again, because it's hard to think of anything else when everything hurts and they're both going to die here.

But he doesn't. Instead, Dan holds Wes close.

"It'll be okay," he lies. "We'll be okay."

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast @kixngiggles @shywhumpauthor @whumpsday

~ ~ ~

[fallenwhumpee]

Pawn

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Sensory overload, sleep deprivation, blindfold, interrogation, torture, broken nose, nosebleed, drugging, touch starvation, mentioned suicide bombing.

In the eerie stillness, their mind grasped for any trace of familiar sights, but all they found was an abyss. Their own breaths were the only thing they could hear, their gasps distant as if underwater.

They groaned, but the sound came out as a croak. They knew their captors were enjoying this show from somewhere, probably discussing what to do to them with sadistic smiles. As if on cue, a loud bang made them flinch, disoriented with the ringing in their ear.

They tensed as the sound grew clearer and closer. Footsteps circled around them, and they cursed the blindfold, not for the first time since they were first captured.

They cried out as their hair was yanked, their back sore from sitting in the same position without being allowed to lean on something.

"Were you alone?" the interrogator demanded.

"Yes," they answered, their voice unreadable but tired and hoarse.

"We both know you're lying. Tell me what your objective was."

"I was alone, a-and it was a suicide bombing. I was to receive the bomb f-from an abandoned warehouse. No contact, no info. I'm merely... merely a pawn," they recited from memory, trying to sound clear but failing towards the end.

"What was your target, you vermin?"

"The... presidential palace, of course," they replied, struggling to keep their thoughts together, with sleep once more trying to claim them.

"No one told you that you can't do that? We do not let people wander around the building, let alone an armed rebel."

They closed their eyes, despite knowing it wouldn't make any difference behind the blindfold. The next question was just a noise in the background, and their head fell, their senses finally giving them a moment to rest. Their hair was pulled harder, a cry escaping from their mouth as a punch met their face. Their eyes watered, pain jolting them awake. A warm liquid slid down over their mouth, the smell of iron stinging.

"How many times have I said that you're not allowed to sleep until I'm satisfied with your answers?"

"Or you s-satisfied your thirst... for violence," they shot back, but regretted it instantly. They tensed and shrunk as much as they could, their 'not caring about their life' persona cracking with this mistake. They really should've kept their mouth closed, but they didn't know how long they could comply enough not to anger the interrogator while withholding information about the rebel group. Maybe it was due to exhaustion or hunger or thirst or pain or the ringing in their ears or uncertainty...

"Mhmm, scared now? Maybe you'll chant 'glory to the government' if I work on you a bit."

Their stomach dropped with the thought, a shiver shaking them as a hand gripped their shoulder, heavy and authoritative.

"Since you began to understand the situation, tell me, do you know who this rebel leader is?"

They bit their lip, tasting blood. Of course, they knew them. They were the leader. But they didn't talk, and it was an answer good enough to let their hair go.

"You do. Good. What's your connection to them?"

"I told you. J-just a pawn ready to die for t-the greater cause."

"Such claims are not tolerated here. You have ten seconds to fix your mistake."

"The government, along with all its officers like you, can go—"

-•-

For a long time, there was only darkness. Slowly, the ringing in their ear made itself known, their whole body aching. Breathing was too hard, and they were unsure if it was from the broken nose or possibly broken ribs. They groaned, unable to make any other noise. They heard a shuffle from the back, but maybe they were imagining things. They couldn't trust themselves at this point.

They groaned once again, trying to determine their position on the ground as it seemed to shift beneath them. They were better than this—better than tossing around like an animal, better than getting caught, better than giving an opening. They were leading a rebellion with little to no support against a government with endless resources. They weren't supposed to be helpless, weak, and a burden on their limited resources.

Tears welled up as they suppressed the sobs racking their body, absorbed by the blindfold as they streamed down their cheeks. Instead of crying, they laughed. Their pathetic state in enemy territory felt like nothing but a cruel joke after too many years of being a ghost for both the rebellion and the government.

With a hitching breath, they forced themselves to sit up quickly, their body protesting and the ground tilting left and right beneath them. They swallowed the dizziness, leaning on their arms to steady themselves. They didn't feel any better than the last time; restlessness still clouded their thoughts.

The sound of a door jolted them, but they couldn't tell which direction it came from. They opened their mouth to call out, but a hand covered their lips, silencing them. Half of their face was covered harshly, and they winced as a sharp pain radiated from their nose, feeling the blood flow once more. They were pulled back by their hair again, struggles becoming futile as their strength left them.

They were roughly thrown onto a cold metal floor, their weakened body protesting against the harsh treatment. They tried to distract themselves from the gnawing emptiness by focusing on their surroundings. The sound of the engine drowned out their thoughts, and the rhythmic vibrations seemed to mock their weakened state.

In the cramped darkness of the truck, or at least that's what they guessed based on the size, Leader's hunger grew unbearable. They couldn't remember the last time they had eaten a proper meal. Days? Weeks? Time blurred together in the abyss of their captivity. They might have passed out at some point, waking up to find themselves seated. The lights were too bright this time, and the walls were painted in a claustrophobic shade of grey.

"So, we've got ourselves another rebel, huh?" a gruff voice sneered.

Leader straightened, their body aching.

"I've seen people like you," another voice chimed in, dripping with disdain. "You think you're making a difference, don't you? Sacrificed as pawns left and right, following orders from your high and mighty perch."

They clenched their fists, their knuckles turning white. The words struck a nerve, stirring up the guilt that had already weighed heavily on their shoulders. They knew that every decision they made as a leader came with consequences, but the thought of those sacrifices being in vain was something they always feared deep in their soul. They knew it wasn't the case. They had made a difference in countless small towns, becoming a threat to the corrupt order, but they would always feel guilty for the lives lost.

A sharp sting at their neck sent a sudden freezing void through their body.

"You rebels are all the same," the gruff voice continued, mocking. It was right behind their ear, but the bright lights were hurting their eyes. "Thinking you can change the world with your little acts of defiance. But let me tell you, we always win in the end. We break you down, reshape you, and all your lofty ideals crumble into dust."

Their vision blurred with pain as they were struck on the temples, plunging them into the familiar black void as the blindfold was pulled over their face. They flinched at the sound of a door, still able to hear everything more than they should. The coldness seeped deep into their bones, intensifying their weakness and making every movement an agonizing effort. They longed for warmth, for a comforting touch to alleviate the shivering. Time became a distant reminder, and soon, endless screams from the battlefield echoed with their commands, while unconsciousness offered the only escape.

-•-

Right Hand, leading the raid on the facility, surveyed the area with a sharp and calculating gaze. They had received information about the location of the rebels being held captive and had meticulously planned their operation to free as many as possible. As they approached the centre of the place, their makeshift army moved with the seriousness that training had instilled in them. The weight of their responsibility felt heavy, but they knew they had to push forward. Leader would be proud.

Their radio crackled, the names of the rescued rebels being counted. As the transmission ended, an unfamiliar voice came through the static.

"Uhm, there's someone... they're barely awake, but they don't look like anyone on the missing list. They just have the rebellion tattoo on their left wrist—although it's pretty ruined. Does anyone know them?"

Right Hand's heart raced, a mix of relief and concern washing over them. They quickly recognized Leader's weakened form, hidden in plain sight. It was a dangerous situation, their leader's identity at risk of exposure. They scanned the surroundings, ensuring no one else was nearby before motioning for the rebel to follow.

"Good job. Now leave them to me," Right Hand said, their voice barely a whisper. "I believe you can go help with the transfer."

The rebel nodded and hurried off to assist the others. Meanwhile, Right Hand rushed to Leader's side, their heart aching at the sight of their battered and weakened leader. It was a stark reminder of the sacrifices made for the rebellion's cause.

Leader's eyes flickered with a glimmer of recognition, their voice barely audible. "Right Hand..."

Right Hand's grip tightened gently around Leader's arm, their emotions overwhelming yet suppressed. They wanted to reassure their leader, to convey the unwavering support and determination that fueled their own actions. But they had to remain cautious, protecting Leader's identity above all else.

"I'm here, Leader," Right Hand whispered. "You're safe now. We've come to bring you back."

Leader mumbled weakly, their words a jumble of fragmented thoughts. Right Hand leaned in closer, their ear attuned to catch the faintest whisper.

"It's cold," Leader murmured again, their voice trembling.

Right Hand wrapped their arms around Leader, mindful of their injuries, and drew them close, feeling the chill emanating from their frail body. They wished they could shield Leader from the harsh realities they had endured.

"It's okay," Right Hand whispered, their voice soothing. "I'll keep you warm. We'll get you out of here. Just lean on me."

Right Hand carefully wrapped their arms around Leader's shoulders, cradling the limp body with utmost care. It was a testament to the bond they shared, the unspoken trust that connected them.

As they made their way towards the waiting transport, Right Hand spoke in a hushed yet comforting tone. They carefully carried Leader towards the waiting transport, their steps steady and determined. They spoke softly, their voice a constant presence in Leader's ear.

"You're doing great, Leader. We're almost there. Just a little bit longer."

Leader's eyelids grew heavy, exhaustion taking its toll. They mumbled weakly, their voice strained. "Tired... so tired..."

Right Hand tightened their hold, offering reassurance. "I know you're exhausted, but you're safe now. You can rest soon."

As they reached the waiting transport, Right Hand gently settled Leader into the vehicle, ensuring their comfort. They climbed in beside them, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. The engine roared to life, and the vehicle began its journey to safety.

Time refused to pass, and Leader's breathing became shallow and erratic. Right Hand leaned closer. "We're almost there."

Leader's fingers weakly grasped Right Hand's, and they gave a faint squeeze.

As the vehicle sped away, the rhythmic hum of the engine lulling them into a void of stillness, Leader's eyelids grew heavier. Their grip on Right Hand's hand loosened, their body finally surrendering to exhaustion.

Right Hand watched over Leader, gently brushing a hand over Leader's forehead, smoothing away the lines of worry.

"Rest now, Leader," Right Hand whispered softly. "We're nearly home."

[tressashaw]

For: Laure Stephens Where: Westriver Gardens When: Midnight

It's late. Too late. Assisstant Medical Examiner is maybe a dumb job title, because the actual Medical Examiner is never the one on call, and does more paperwork than anything. It's Tressa putting hours in at the morgue. It's Tressa doing calls for the PD at two in the morning. "Eesh, buddy, what happened to you?"

It's not like he's going to answer, but it doesn't stop her asking as she sets down her kit at the scene of, well, something. She can hear the PD nearby, asking the teens playing midnight tonsil hockey what the hell they were doing in Westriver this late at night, but really, come on, dude, everyone knows.

"The real question is what's your story, pal." She muses to herself, gloving up and using the tip of a probe to tilt the man's face up. Torn up real good at the throat, and at a glance he's got a broken leg. She hears somebody coming up behind her, but assuming it's not whatever tore up Mr. Doe here, she continues her duties, opening her case to get ready to grab samples.

=== @laurestcphens

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane's Pets Chapter 87: Curse

TWs in the tags

Previous

Masterlist

Next

This is wonderful. Sucks for the intruder, but you don’t have to think about that. For you, this is wonderful. Jane is downstairs torturing someone and it’s not even Kitty or Puppy! You get to prepare spells and know Jane isn’t around while also knowing Puppy and Kitty are relatively safe. Well, you hope Puppy is safe. She’s probably fine.

You get out the materials you’ve gathered and prepare the spells you can remember. Kitty watches.

“What are you doing?”

“Preparing spells.” …did you ever even end up telling Kitty about learning magic? If you did, neither of you seem to remember it. “Barron taught me. Apparently that’s just, like, a thing that any human can do. I can teach you, if you want.”

“I’m not sure how well I can learn complex stuff like that right now...”

You smile at the way they phrased that. That they’re not sure instead of insistent that they’ll never be able to think again. That they said ‘right now.’ They have some hope for the future! You did that. “Fair enough. Let me know if you ever feel up for it. And want to.”

Kitty nods. “Um… why are you preparing spells?”

“I’m going to make it so the food we’ve got in the fridge can heal us. And try some spells against Jane.”

Kitty pales. “Don’t. Please, don’t make me watch her hurt you-” “She’ll hurt me either way. At least this way I’m learning something.”

They’re tearing up already. “Please…”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. Just forget it. Go take a nap or something.” There are screams of pain coming from downstairs, but they aren’t Puppy’s, and that’s all that matters.

Kitty doesn’t go take a nap, but they don’t say anything either. They just watch as you carve runes you barely remember.

When you finish, you go to the fridge and start casting healing spells on the food. 

Kitty gasps. “Your eyes… they turned yellow.”

You smile. “Yeah, Barron’s magic made a popping noise. Mine is quiet but turns my eyes yellow. Isn’t that cool?”

Kitty seems less anxious as they watch. “Will the food really heal us now?”

None of you are particularly injured right now, thankfully. There are some fingernails still growing back and some bones still healing, but no open wounds.

Holy shit. Did you really just think that you’re doing well because you only have broken bones and missing fingernails? Holy shit. You freeze for a moment before continuing with casting. “Yeah. It… kind of feels like a waste, since there are times I could barely move through the injuries and I would’ve rather had healing then… but I don’t know when I’ll next get the chance to do this. And I probably wouldn’t be able to cast if I was in that much pain anyway. And it’s not like there’s a limited amount of magic, it’s just- if I get caught, this’ll be the only chance to use these healing spells, and if I’m only going to get to use them once I’d want the pain to be unbearable… sorry, that’s not important. Yes, the food will heal us. It’ll speed up our healing, at least.”

Kitty nods. “You’re less likely to get caught if you don’t attack her.”

“I know. But I’m not going to let this be the rest of our lives. I’m going to find a way to stop her. You haven’t lost that hope you had, have you? You said you thought it was possible, if we just figured out how. You said everyone has weaknesses. We just have to figure out how to get rid of her powers.” “...you think these spells can get rid of her powers?”

“I think they have a higher chance of doing it than just waiting in case a solution falls in our lap.”

Kitty nods slowly. “What spells were you wanting to try?”

You close the fridge, having finished casting all the healing spells you prepared. “I don’t remember a whole lot of them. There are some spells that are supposed to reduce pain, but they have such horrible side effects… I wonder what would happen if we used them on her? Especially when she’s so different from everything else Barron told me about. Maybe a healing spell would hurt her, since she can already heal herself? It’s all worth a shot, at least. I also remember a curse I saw that I thought might work on her, it's supposed to lock away magic for a period of time. I only have so many memorized, and most wouldn't be super useful in attacking Jane, but I could try to figure out more spells. I know vaguely what symbols mean what, if I can figure out which ones to combine…”

“Is there any way I can help?”

“Hmm… think you can distract her while I cast? She needs to be caught by surprise, otherwise she’ll just teleport away.” Kitty nods. “I can distract her. Just signal me when you’re ready. Uh… wink at me or something.”

“I will. When do you think she’ll be back up here?”

Kitty shrugs. “It’s hard to guess, even when my brain works. Is there anything you need to do before she comes up?”

“I’ve prepared all the spells I want to try on her that I can remember. I can try to make new ones while we wait.”

Kitty nods. “I think I’ll take a nap. Put everything away real fast and wake me up if you hear the screaming stop.”

“Right.” You’d been trying to tune the screaming out, but you’ll need to know when it stops if you don’t want to get caught.

Kitty lies down on the couch and immediately passes out. That’s good. It’s always better when they can sleep through the drug effects, and Jane might forget to give them more if she’s busy torturing someone else! You sit in a beanbag chair and start preparing spells that may not even exist. You’ll have to work on complete guesswork for the words and motions for these ones, too. But hey, maybe you’ll discover a new spell which has the sole purpose of killing whatever kind of creature Jane is. That would be great. And wasn’t Barron’s job discovering/creating new spells? You should’ve asked it more about what it did day to day…

Your chest aches at the thought of Barron. It’s dead because of you. It would still be alive if you’d just been good. 

You wipe your eyes and refocus on your work. 

You're having a bit of trouble focusing, but you summon all your willpower to, even as you feel a headache starting. Jane's wounds heal. You know that, you saw that. But there are ways of killing someone without wounds. You remember, vaguely, a story of hercules slaying a lion with an unbreakable hide by suffocating him. And there are other things you can think of too- would she heal if her entire body was destroyed at once? Would limbs reattach if they got cut off? Would they regrow? And what's likely to be something she's never encountered before? 

Instead of feeling like there's no possible way out like you often did before, you see dozens of pathways in front of you. Most are probably dead ends, but that doesn't matter as much as the fact that you're not stuck anymore. There are ways forward. You won't let Barron, Diya, and Ray's deaths mean nothing.

–

Puppy stumbles away from Jared to throw up bile, then comes back and whips them again. 

“I was curious!” They shriek. “I’d been here before and there wasn’t a house, so I wanted to figure out how it got built so fast! That’s all! I swear!”

She’s already emptied their pockets. In them, there was more powder, some leaves with symbols drawn on them, and a booklet full of notes on the house. On the screams that came from it. On when Puppy leaves to go shopping and when she returns. “I’m sure you can think of a better lie than that.” Her voice is shaky, but she tries to sound like Master when she does interrogations. “What are these notes for?”

“I can help you! Let me help you!”

Puppy sets down the whip and gets a hammer. “This is your last chance to give me something convincing before I break every bone in your hand.” She feels nauseous again, but just grits her teeth. Later.

“I just wanted to help! I detected some weird magic here- and then I heard all the screaming and- and- please, I just want to help!”

“Can others detect this magic? Are we going to get more visitors?” Master might have to move them again.

“I don’t know!”

Puppy sighs. She was really looking forward to being done with this. “I think you’re lying to me, Jared.” She can hear how Master would say a line like that, how it would send shivers down her spine, but when she says it sounds teary and afraid and disappointed (but not in the way Master sounds when she’s disappointed, when there’s a threat behind it- just kind of sad).

“No! I swear, I swear, I just wanted to help-” “I believe that part. But I think that if it was so easy to detect Master’s magic, I’d have had to deal with a lot more of people like you. We don’t get a lot of people poking around.”

“It wasn’t easy, I just…” They trail off. Unable to think of a reason why they’re here and other mages aren’t if it was just a matter of detecting magic.

Puppy takes Jared’s hand. “Here’s what I think. Bunny’s mage friend told you about us, and now that you haven’t heard from it for a while, you decided to come find the house it told you about.”

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

Puppy brings the hammer down onto their hand. They shriek and pull away, but the damage is done. Puppy gags, her body trying to somehow vomit up the guilt and disgust as if it's a physical thing. This shouldn’t be this hard. She’s hurt Bunny and Kitty, her closest friends, with less issues than this.

“I just want to help you! Let me help you!” Jared is sobbing.

“Who else did Bunny’s friend tell about us?”

“No one, I told you I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

She reaches for their hand again. “W-wait! I- I’m the only one it told!”

Puppy stops. Really, that’s just the smart thing to say, even if she’s wrong and Jared really hasn’t met Bunny’s mage friend. “There we go. What did it tell you?”

Jared sobs. “I don’t- it told me what it was researching about the monster, what her powers are- well, what her known powers are. And it gave-” Jared takes deep, gasping breaths “it gave directions to this place, in case- in case something happened. Did- is-?”

“It’s dead. You will be soon, too, if you’re lucky.”

Jared sobs some more. Puppy tries to think of more questions to ask. Master won’t be happy if Puppy ends the interrogation before she gets back.

“What are your pronouns, by the way?” This is all so fucked up. Puppy tries not to laugh. Jared isn’t Master, they won’t find her laughing in inappropriate situations cute.

Jared doesn’t answer, just cries, so she Puppy abandons that line of questioning. She feels no need to torture that out of them. 

“What was your plan here? Did the mage tell you Master had weaknesses? It was wrong if it did.”

“I just- I was still forming the plan, I didn’t realize the invisibility spell had worn off-”

That… that is interesting. Master wouldn’t have let them get away with the repeated spying if she knew, right? Puppy isn’t sure… but maybe, maybe if someone were use a spell like that and always stay invisible, Master wouldn’t be able to find them… Now that she thinks about it, a distant memory comes up. She was in a lot of pain and so tired and probably drugged, but she thinks Master might have told her once that she can sense shadows even outside her void, and someone who’s invisible wouldn’t cast a shadow…

She shakes herself out of it. That’s a dangerous train of thought to go down. And it's not like Master has ever had any trouble finding people in dark rooms without shadows.

“Do you regret snooping?”

Jared nods. Puppy struggles to think of more questions. 

“Did you tell anyone what Barron told you?” Jared’s going to answer no regardless of the true answer, of course. They shake their head.

“Did you tell anyone where you were going? Does anyone know you’re here?”

Predictably, they shake their head.

“If someone comes looking for you, I’m going to assume you lied to me, and, as punishment, skin them alive. Understand?”

Jared nods shakily.

“Good.” She wracks her brain for another question. “For you to be here, after learning about her powers… Are you stupid?”

Puppy hears Master giggling behind her. That’s… good. Yeah, she doesn’t have to think of any more questions. She probably won’t get to talk again for months. But that's fine. That's fine.

"What did he say, Puppy?”

“Bunny’s mage friend told them about this place. According to them, it didn’t tell anyone else.”

Master nods. "That matches up with what I found fairly well. Lucky you, Jared! If it hadn't, this would be a lot worse." 

She takes a cattle prod from her void. Puppy instinctively drops to her knees, but Master is entirely focused on Jared. 

"You can go back upstairs, Puppy. I'll put the muzzle back on later. You do not have permission to speak."

Puppy's… surprised. Normally, Master would want her to help with torturing someone. But she knows better than to question her Master. She goes upstairs, ignoring Jared's pleas for help.

–

You'd shaken Kitty awake and were mentally preparing to face Jane when the screaming started up again. Huh…

Puppy comes through the door to the basement. Her muzzle isn't on, and there are pressure sores across her face where it used to lie. "...Puppy?"

Kitty also seems surprised. "Is Jane coming?"

Puppy shrugs. Fair enough.

"Uh…" You hesitate for a second, wondering if helping her with her wounds will interfere with your plan, but it shouldn't, right? "I'll go get the first aid kit."

You quickly grab the first aid kit and come back. "Can you sit down?"

Puppy sits down on the couch, next to Kitty. You start cleaning the wounds on her face.

"Is it just these? Or do you have other injuries?"

She just looks at you.

"Oh, right." Just one question at a time while she can't talk. "Do you have other injuries?"

She shakes her head. You finish cleaning her face and start bandaging it. You feel like you should apply some ointment or something, but you don't have any, and you're no doctor. Maybe that would just make it worse, anyway.

"The intruder's still screaming." You whisper to her. "She can't be multiple places at once. You could eat something."

Her eyes widen in horror and she shakes her head rapidly. You didn't really expect any different, but you figured there was no harm in trying.

You're worried about how casting a spell on Jane is going to go with Puppy here. She definitely won't help you with distracting Jane like Kitty will, but hopefully she won't catch on quickly enough to stop you either.

"Okay. Do you wanna play a game or something?"

She nods. Kitty already seems to be having trouble staying awake, so you look for a simple game that won't require too much brain power.

"How does Sorry sound?" Not too skill-based, but with enough decision making that it's interesting.

Puppy nods and Kitty hums affirmatively, or at least you think so. You set the game up, and the three of you play three rounds before the screaming downstairs stops.

You had been lying on Puppy's shoulder, but you immediately push away and sit up at the disconcerting silence. Kitty also grows more alert, watching you for the signal that it's time for a distraction. Puppy stares straight ahead, no visible emotion on her face.

The screaming might start up again, like it did before. This isn't a guarantee that she's watching. Just as someone screaming isn't a guarantee that she's with them in the basement…

You shake that thought off. Someone might cry from pain in the aftermath of torture, but usually not scream. At least not the wordless, agonized screams that the intruder's been producing up until now.

"What're you playing?" Jane appears sitting next to you, covered in blood and looking very happy with herself. You recoil. Just her presence makes your heart beat faster, makes you dizzy with fear.

"Sorry. We're playing Sorry." 

"How fun." Jane says. She grabs Puppy's hair and inspects her, noting the new bandages. She has a muzzle in her hands where there wasn't one before, and starts strapping it to Puppy's face.

She's distracted- now's the time. You won't even need Kitty to do a distraction. You pull a rock out of your pocket, the one you set aside for this specifically, and quickly say the incantation and do the motions required for the spell.

If this goes right, it should steal the air from Jane's lungs, and continue suffocating her until you lose concentration.

She stops putting the muzzle on Puppy's face and turns to look at you, raising an eyebrow. She's not breathing, and not trying to either.

You're worried she's going to start hurting Puppy to break your concentration, but instead she just finishes muzzling Puppy and goes back to staring at you. No one moves.

It's… been a long time without her breathing. She doesn't seem remotely phased. She seems… amused, if anything. 

"I don't think she needs to breathe, Bunny." Kitty says softly. You can't see their expression, or Puppy's- you don't want to look away from Jane in case it breaks the spell.

"Well, she clearly needs to breathe in order to talk. At least this can shut her up for a while."

Jane laughs without air. She doesn't need to talk to get this message across. Stupid Bunny.

She could easily break your concentration. Come over and stab you, or worse, hurt Puppy or Kitty. But she doesn't. She just stares at you, smiling.

She's waiting for you to break off the spell yourself. This is a lesson. She's letting you do this for the same reason she let you be free with Barron, Diya, and Ray for a year.

You want to be petty and hold out until you fall unconscious, but… that won't really help anyone. And your head is really starting to hurt. So you drop the spell.

Jane laughs audibly, now. "You must've been waiting all day for that! Again, do you really think I'd still be alive if it was that easy to kill me?"

You thought it was possible. Anyone trying to suffocate her normally would've had to contend with her teleporting, but with magic… it was worth a shot.

"I'm surprised that worked at all, to be honest. Most spells don't work on me. Though I guess that was more a spell on the air around me than me? Anyway. Give me your collar."

You expected this, if you failed. You take the collar off your neck and hand it to her.

"Go downstairs."

You head down to the basement. Jane is already there when you reach the bottom.

"You can't curse me, Bunny. Me being alive at all is a curse, one that no magic has been able to remove. Do you have any idea what that's like, to live and live and live no matter how painful it is? I think I've given you some idea… but we can do better, can't we?"

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else, or if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @thecosmicmap @quins-whump-stuff

@fuckcapitalismasshole

[fcdcdmcmories]

Even if it’s handcuffed, I’m leaving here with you (cecilia & parker)

IT HAD BEEN A HORRIBLE NIGHT. try as he might, the guy that he had been fighting that afternoon had kicked the shit out of him and.. it hadn't even been three whole minutes before he passed out and had to be carried out of the ring. he knew that lynn would not be happy. this had probably caused her to lose money and.. he was never going to hear the end of it but right now, what concerned him was the fact that he probably had a few broken bones and wasn't going to be able to fight tomorrow. tomorrow, same time, as it had been for.. THE PAST FEW WEEKS? MONTHS? he didn't even know how long it had been ever since he had been brought here, but.. the outside world seemed to be fading away. it pained him to say that.. when he heard her voice? he almost didn't recognise it. there was no way that she was actually here, right? he was .. seeing things. had to be. "it's-- it's you. you're really here," even covered in his own blood, he wanted to run to her and yet.. he was soon reminded of where they were. "no, no, no. listen to me. you need to leave. the people here.. they shoot first and ask questions later. IF SHE SEES YOU HERE? SHE'LL HURT YOU. PLEASE, HONEY, YOU.. YOU HAVE TO GO."´

@xtinyslip