#tw cauterizing

[jumpywhumpywriter]

"I Want You to Scream" -- Hero Tortured by Villain, Intimate Whumper part 3

Warnings: chains/restraints, severe torture, blood, cauterization, iron rod branding, knives, intimate whump, etc.

"My, you sure are tense," Villain giggled as he shivered again.

Hero made an effort to still himself, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing he was afraid -- but his body betrayed him, and he couldn't stop shaking, small tremors wracking his whole form. He wasn't just afraid, he was terrified. Such a new feeling for the typically fearless hero.

It was worse now that he couldn't see what Villain was doing. So much worse. He didn't know what to expect. What to brace himself for.

But it certainly startled him when he felt soft lips kiss the back of his sweaty neck -- a characteristic theme for Villain, he'd noted, before the real torture started. Pleasure for her before pain for him.

Villain's warm breath ghosted over his skin as she pulled back, and Hero cried out in surprise as a sharp blade bit into the back of his shoulder, unexpectedly with no warning.

Villain started slicing methodically into Hero's back, driving maddening screams and wails from him as she began her artwork.

The pain was unbearably intense, and Hero didn't even try to suppress his screams. There was no way he could hold back the sounds of his suffering. All hope of maintaining composure was long gone.

A rough hand tangled in his hair, shoving his face down into the pillow that muffled another ragged shriek as Villain's weight shifted, allowing her access to a new patch of untouched skin on his lower back that she dug into without hesitation.

It must have gone on for hours, because Hero passed out several times, before snapping awake shortly after each time to even more agony as Villain viciously carved elaborate, elegant designs into him until his flesh was a fancy mosaic of blood and injuries.

His struggles were losing steam, his screams devolving into agonized whimpers and choked sobs as he cried helplessly into the pillow, staining it with tears. His whole back was on fire, and he could feel trails of his own blood rolling down his sides to hit the mattress. The white bedsheets turned red with Hero's blood as they soaked it up.

"Nnnhhh... Please... Please no more..." Hero moaned pathetically, twitching weakly beneath Villain. He was only half-conscious from the splitting pain spearing his body. He sucked in a raspy breath of air as Villain grabbed his hair and wrenched his head back as far as it would go, making it hard to breathe.

Hero's eyes fluttered, going in and out of focus before he managed to lock his gaze onto Villain's blurry face, peering dizzily at her. He must have lost a lot more blood than he thought.

He could see Villain's mouth moving, but couldn't comprehend what she was saying, too out of it with pain.

Then, all at once, the weight on his back disappeared, along with the hand in his hair, and he was distantly aware of the room's door slamming open.

In his peripheral he could see several figures barge in, and through the buzzing haze in his mind he recognized them as his teammates. They had finally found him.

A rattling breath of relief escaped Hero. His friend's horrified shouts were muffled and warped to him as his hearing went, before his sight followed a heartbeat later. The last thing he was aware of was someone taking the metal cuffs off his wrists before the darkness claimed him completely.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba

[hhoneycloves]

This time, Host was clumsy. This time, Host left himself vulnerable. This time, finally, the dice were in Mind's favor.

[ananxiousgenz]

HEY Y'ALL YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT THIS IS!!!!! (it's more cowboy au FINALLY)

it has been. A Time!!!! @percy-mawce-arts and i have been getting our asses kicked by life so this au was sitting on the backburner for a while but we finally got this chapter finished and reviewed (after it had been sitting for like two months whispering creepily into my ear at night while i tried to sleep-) and we are SO very excited to show y'all the next chapter of When The Land Was Godless And Free!!!!

this chapter is a BEAST (word count says it's around 3.4K) and takes place right after arthur helps john out after being shot.

tw for brief mention of cauterization!!

Sometimes, John really fucking hated being human. He’d decided long ago that it was simply a hassle. That it would be easier to be a lizard, or a coyote, or a hawk. And from the day of his birth onward, life had only proven that theory correct. There were days where the pain, stress, awkwardness and confusion just made him want to crawl out of his skin. Days when he would rather rip off his fingernails than spend another minute talking to someone he disliked or asking for help he should have handled himself. 

The past week had just been chock full of those days.

The first few of them John couldn’t recall with much clarity. He had the strangest idea that his mind had been tampered with, leaving him only able to remember bright, blurry moments of the days he’d missed with a feverish sort of quality. Searing pain in his side as the stars twinkled like diamonds above before he slipped away into blissful unconsciousness. His cheek pressed against Akke’s silky mane, watching the distant blue horizon tremble with motion. A wooden door opening with a creaking that felt like it was stabbing through his eardrums. A shaft of sunlight falling across his face, illuminating motes of dust in its path as someone hummed a distant melody. Pain, always pain, throbbing in his side and never letting go. 

After so long swimming in half-darkness, stuck between awake and unconscious, John finally pulled himself fully out of limbo and into the unpleasantness of the waking world. His eyelids almost felt like they had been glued shut, and it took considerable effort to pry them open and see the world again. Once he had, he almost wondered if he was still in a dream, a shifting moment in the winds that would be blown away the second he blinked.

The stuffy room he was in had dark walls, lit by only a window with simple calico curtains to his left. He was lying tucked into the corner by the window, in a real bed with blankets and pillows and a nice mattress of all things. He hadn’t slept in a real bed since… Christ, at least since boarding school, and even calling that a “bed” was generous. A wooden bedside table sat at his right,  with unused bandages and half-eaten bowls of soup scattered atop it, and a chair beside it. It was unoccupied, with only an empty gun holster hanging over one side of the backrest, but it didn’t take much for John to guess that it had seated a recently seated a person. John guessed it was some time after noon, seeing as the sun was still high and bright enough to illuminate the room. It had been night the last time he was awake, hadn’t it? Evening, maybe?

He couldn’t remember for the life of him how he had gotten here, much less why.

John made the poor decision to try sitting up. The moment he so much as tried to lift his head, the muscles in his abdomen tensed and a sharp pain shot through his side (that’s right, he had been shot, hadn’t he?), forcing him to collapse back against the pillow with a groan and a cough.

He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, listening to the ambiance of the structure where he was currently sheltered, a cabin of some kind. It creaked slightly in the wind, which he could hear rattling away at the window panes. But otherwise the room was silent. He could hear no footsteps, voices, moving furniture, crackling fires, records being played, nothing to indicate that another human being was anywhere in his vicinity. He was alone. 

No, he wasn’t. In a moment of blind panic, John remembered Akke. Where was she? He didn’t hear any horses outside. She couldn’t have been left behind, she would have followed him… wouldn’t she? 

Despite the roaring pain in his side, John fought to sit up and look out the window with gritted teeth, bracing himself against the windowsill with a white-knuckled grip. There was no sign of her, just a wooden fence, empty land, and miles of clear blue sky overhead. 

John’s breathing began to speed up. Akke had been the only sure thing in his life since he left boarding school. She had saved his life in more ways than one, and he would do anything to keep her safe. If she was gone… Well. John wasn’t sure what he would do to whoever brought him here, but he knew it wouldn’t be pretty.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed with a wince and braced himself for the pain that would hit when he put weight on his feet. He was going to find her. Screw the pain. Screw the nauseating, dizzying pain splitting through his abdomen as he rose to his feet. Screw the way the world tilted and his vision began to fade. Screw the way he swayed on his feet. He had to make sure she was safe, he had to… he…

He hadn’t realized he was falling until a pair of strong arms stopped him from hitting the floor. His side pulled and searing pain had him screaming through gritted teeth.

“Calm down, John! Christ, what were you thinking?” That voice, John knew that voice. Smooth, with a fucking British accent. It was the Sheriff. What was his name, Adam? Alistair?

“Arthur?” John managed, trying his hardest not to throw up as Arthur helped sit him down again. “Arthur what… where-where…” Where am I? Where is Akke?

“You’re alright, John, you’re alright,” Arthur said, quietly, brushing a strand of hair from John’s eyes. His hand was like a cool balm against John’s forehead, and it was only then that John noticed how hot he was. It felt like he was lying in a furnace, he was sweating like a pig and his chest was heaving (though that was partially from panic). Arthur frowned and pressed his hand to John’s forehead more intentionally, then his cheek, then his neck. John couldn’t help but sigh every time his comparatively icy hand broke the heat radiating off of his skin. “Or, you will be. You’re safe, at least.” 

“Safe…” John mumbled. His brain felt like it was melting. “Where’s Akke?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Akke?” Then his eyes widened. “Oh, your horse? She’s here, John. She’s out front, being fed.” 

John let his eyes slip closed with a relieved sigh. Normally he might argue. No, he definitely would. He would demand to see her, refuse to cooperate until he knew for sure she was safe. But something about Arthur’s voice, something about Arthur, compelled John to trust him. Besides, his head was swimming with heat and pain and he could barely hold on to a clear train of thought. He might die before he got to see her again if he didn’t lie back down. 

“Come on now, John,” Arthur said gently, his voice filled to bursting with kindness and concern that somewhere in the back of his hazy mind, John knew he didn’t deserve. “She’s alright, I promise. Let’s get you back to bed, hm?”

John swallowed thickly and nodded, the action making the room twirl like a falling feather. One of his hands flew up to his forehead in a futile effort to brace it, but there was no need. He was lying back down with his head on the pillow before there was any real danger of the world slipping out from under him, guided by a gentle hand attached to a seemingly gentler man. 

Though his vision was slightly obscured by one eye being mashed into his pillow, John examined Arthur again. He looked just about the same as John could remember from that night by the fire, but this time he seemed more… on edge, like a nervous kangaroo rat, waiting to be snatched up by a raptor. More than that, John noted as Arthur sat down in his chair with a quiet sigh, he seemed utterly exhausted. The circles stamped beneath his eyes were the color of mountain larkspur: a dark, nearly midnight purple. And the way his body slumped into the chair like a sack of grain spoke of more than one late night of worry and no sleep. 

Why did Arthur look so stressed? Had they been followed? Were they not safe here? Maybe they were in danger, but John had been too sick to move. It was a real possibility, given how little of the recent days he was able to recall. God, how long had he been here? He knew it had been a few hours at least, but some inner timer ticking away towards his own personal doomsday said it had been longer. Without meaning to, the question slipped past John’s feverish lips.

“How long?”

“Hmm?” Arthur hummed in response, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he leaned back against the chair. “How long what?”

“How long,” John repeated, turning his head slightly so his mouth was more exposed, “have I been here?”

Arthur blew out a long breath and looked at the ceiling. “I don’t… I’m not sure. Maybe about 4 or 5 days? I’ve lost track, to be entirely honest.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, you haven’t missed much,” Arthur chuckled. “It’s been quiet. A lot of me trying to wash out your wound and keep the fever down while trying to take care of the horses and the chickens and whatnot. A lot of you sleeping and mumbling and crying out whenever I try to help with your bandages.”

John hummed into the corner of his pillow, letting his eyes slip closed as he listened to the soothing baritone of Arthur’s voice. 

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

John creaked one eye open. “How did I get here?”

“Well,” Arthur said, a faint smirk on his face as he shifted his weight in the chair to lean a bit closer to John, “I brought you here.”

“No shit,” John muttered, suddenly realizing how crusty his voice had become at a lack of use. He coughed once or twice to clear his throat, making the room spin again. “I’d like a bit more detail than that.”

“Ah. Well, I managed to get you up onto your horse– Akke, you said her name was? And then I led her back here, and managed to drag you into bed and rebandage your wound before the fever set in. You’ve been fairly incoherent since. Haven’t said much, but what you have said has been… well, calling it interesting might be a bit generous.” Arthur leaned back in the chair, that same faint smirk settling over his face. “Getting you here wasn’t easy, you know. You’re quite heavy, friend.”

There was an easy confidence in Arthur’s face and voice now, a swagger meant to disguise his exhaustion and fear and make it seem as though everything was just sunshine and clear skies. Probably meant to keep John calm, so he wouldn’t pass out from exertion or the fever or blood loss. But John had already seen the truth, already knew what was lurking behind that mask. Arthur was worried and tired, clearly running on empty and on the verge of collapse. But about what, John couldn’t say, and it was beginning to nibble away at his nerves like a mouse at a block of cheese.

“‘S all muscle,” John mumbled in an (admittedly fruitless) effort to send that mouse skittering off into the depths of his subconscious.

“I did wonder once or twice if you had eaten an entire buffalo right before deciding to attempt a double murder.”

“A buffalo?”

“Mmmm. I imagine you swallowed it whole, much like a rattlesnake. Horns and all,” Arthur said thoughtfully.

The idea of someone swallowing a whole buffalo was, to say the least, a bit silly. John snickered at the idea of it. Arthur’s smirk grew into a broad grin in response.

“They can’t taste terribly good that way, though,” Arthur continued, his eyes glittering with mirth. “Those things smell awful, I can’t imagine the flavor is any good.”

John chuckled. “How would you go about it, then, if you know so much?” Arthur smiled.

“The same way you eat an elephant,” he said, with the kind of familiarity that implied a joke he’d told before. “One bite at a time.”

John couldn’t help himself. The simple joy of such a silly idea bubbled up from the bottom of his heart and he was powerless to stop it. He laughed, hard and loud.

And almost immediately regretted it.

The pain that shot through his side in response was like a white-hot fire, searing him from the inside out and blurring his vision with boiling tears. A strangled noise fought its way out of his throat, caught between a gasp, a hiss, and a language only his subconscious knew now.

“Ataa!”

Through his misty vision, John saw Arthur’s face hovering in space above his own, a clear furrow between his brows as his mouth was set into a deep frown.

“John?” There was a trembling note in Arthur’s voice as he spoke.

“It hurts,” John whined.

“John, listen, I know it hurts, but I need you to stop moving, alright? I need to check if you reopened the wound. Try to lie still.”

John blew out a sharp breath and did as he was told. A moment later, cool fingers lifted his shirt, undid his bandages, and grazed along the throbbing epicenter of pain in his stomach. John was surprised at how little the contact hurt. Arthur’s hands were rough and calloused, to be sure. The life of a sheriff in a land like this didn’t exactly leave room for soft hands. But he was so gentle, barely hovering above John’s skin like the sweep and swish of prairie grass. Almost like he cared.

Arthur sighed quietly as he began to retie the bandages. “Alright. I think you’re okay, John. Just take it easy. No more laughter. It was hard enough trying to close you up the first time.”

The first time. The pieces were beginning to fit together in John’s mind. Arthur had taken the bullet out of his stomach. Arthur had cauterized the wound. Arthur was worried. About John. And not only was he worried about John, he chose to take him back to this cabin. Chose to take him in and heal his wounds. Arthur knew about John’s connections to Larson and his gang and the danger he could have been in as a result. He could have left John for dead out in the desert, and no one would have been the wiser. So the question still remained: why did he do it? Why go through the trouble? What did John matter to Arthur in the grand scheme of things?

“John? John, what’s wrong? Does something else hurt?”

John realized  hot tears were slipping from the corners of his eyes again, accompanied by sniffling that he couldn’t quite stop. “Why?” he croaked.

Arthur looked deeply confused. “Why what?”

“Why did you bring me back?”

“I don’t- I don’t understand.”

“Why did you keep me alive? For fucks sake, Arthur, I tried to kill you. I did kill your friend. You should have let me die. Why am I here?” John growled, swiping the tears off his face like they were burning him.

Arthur went silent, and John could almost swear he saw the gears turning in Arthur’s head as he considered his answer. He finished with the bandages and sat down, nibbling on his thumbnail as he thought. After a long moment, he looked up in John’s direction, his expression strangely hard.

“Because you’re human,” he said quietly.

John blinked in surprise. “What?”

Arthur nodded, a determined set to his eyes shining like the sun bouncing off metal. “You’re human. And in pain. Leaving you behind would have been cruel, even if you did try to kill me.”

John was, for the first time in a long time, completely speechless. Arthur thought he was something worth saving. Something that deserved to be taken care of. Something that didn’t deserve to die. In the back of his mind, a little voice whispered, The King wouldn’t have helped you. Larson would have let you die. He knows what you really are.

“You know nothing about me,” John choked out. “You don’t know what I know. What I’ve done.”

“Well, I rather figured you’d tell me something when you got better,” Arthur said with a vaguely guilty grin. “I figured if I kept you alive, I would get some good information out of you regarding the King’s whereabouts.”

“If I tell you about who I am and what I’ve done for that man, you’ll regret keeping me alive. You’ll kill me.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because,” John said, staring blankly at the ceiling the way he knew imagined a corpse would. “I’m not exactly a good person.”

“I never would have guessed,” Arthur muttered, and John watched him roll his eyes out of the corner of his vision. “The man who shoots my deputy and tries to kill me, a bad person. Unthinkable!”

John snorted in spite of himself. He didn’t laugh much (it was simply how he’d always been) but somehow, it felt natural around Arthur.

“John, look. You’re not the only one here who has done unforgivable things in the name of survival. I’m not asking you to like me, or even offer me any information about yourself. I’m asking for information on Larson. That’s all.”

Arthur’s face was polite, but as he spoke, his gaze grew sharper, cold with the threat of an avalanche lurking in the back of those bright hazel eyes. John knew that look. That frigid anger. The cold fury that seeped in through cracks of vulnerability, leaving a thick crust of ice over a person’s heart and a layer of frost on everything they touched. He’d seen it on the faces of dozens of Native kids in Larson’s gang after they’d been told just what atrocities they had to fear from the law. 

Arthur wanted revenge.

And he would do just about anything to get it.

“Just tell me where Larson is, and when you’re healed, you can go. I won’t hunt you. I won’t send anyone after you. I swear, I will leave you be for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t want to leave.” 

The words left John’s mouth before he had fully finished thinking them, but as he turned them over on his tongue, he realized they were the truest thing he had spoken since meeting Arthur. He didn’t want to leave. Arthur believed that John was human enough to save, to care for, to let live, despite how little he knew about him. That was more grace and humanity than Larson ever showed him, or any of the kids in his shitty gang. The longer he thought about it, the more John realized he was sick of it. All the lies, the manipulations, the nightmares, all that time living in limbo between terror and fury while fighting for a cause that would sooner see you crushed beneath its heel. He didn’t want that. More than that, he didn’t want it for anyone.

Arthur looked completely baffled. “What?”

“I don’t want to leave,” John repeated as the words rang through his mind again like chiming crystals. “I don’t want to go back to Larson and his gang.”

Arthur simply stared.

“Look. You want revenge on him, don’t you? I saw the look on your face when you talked about him. You want him locked up, and I want his fucking gang disbanded and freed. I’m not going to leave you, not when we have a common enemy we want gone.” A hard edge was creeping into John’s voice as he spoke. “Between your sharpshooting and my sight, we could bring him down. Two heads and all that.” Arthur seemed apprehensive still, which was fair, John thought. Having empathy for the man who shot your deputy was a far cry from trusting him. John sighed. 

“Arthur, vengeance will eat you from the inside out. Believe me, I know. I can see it wearing you down.” Arthur averted his gaze. “This is too big a foe to handle alone. Too big of an elephant to eat whole.”

Finally, Arthur smiled, looking up from where he’d fixed his gaze on John’s quilt. “So we eat it together,” he said. John nodded. 

“One bite at a time.”

[hurtcomfortguaranteed]

In Dark Matter 2x11, Three is shot while rescuing Five from slavers. In the aftermath, she treats his wounds and tries to keep him moving to escape from the authorities.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

GIVE US A WIP SNIPPET YOU ARE PROUD OF!!

I mean... I guess I could...

CW: Amputation, religious homophobia, religious fanatics, horror

-

The Singer herself leaned down, to look him right in the eyes. She held him by the chin, forcing him to look at her. “I will forgive that. Fear is powerful, and sometimes we make mistakes in the grip of fear. We will agree that it is natural to fear for your life, when you have sinned so greatly against your goddess.”

            Aidan screamed, wordlessly, as loudly as he could, right into her face. She didn't even flinch. She barely even blinked. Aidan's own vision blurred with tears.

            “I understand,” She said, softly. Her voice oozed with delight and she could barely keep the smile off her face. She reached out and took his left forearm in her hand. “Your price will be paid with blood as well,” She said, this time projecting for the crowd. “Aidan Garnes, you have used your right hand to sin against the Mother of the Rock by seeking carnal pleasure with another man. In penance for this perversion, we will remove your left.”

            Aidan’s vision, his entire existence, suddenly became centered in the fingers on his left hand. He had never seen his fingernails, with dirt underneath them, in such detail. He’d never realized how long his fingers were, never even really thought about his hands beyond their usefulness. He let out a muffled groan behind the gag.

            “Pay the price," The Singer said, almost gently. "You have already lost your family, given them up for the sake of momentary pleasures and the sickness in your heart. Now... you will go into punishment for the time it takes you to recover. Return to us an outcast, and live your days alone knowing that your perversion will be visible to anyone who sees you. You will be given a new name. You will never speak to your former family again. You will live among us in shadow.” She looked back up at the crowd, pitching her voice higher, effortlessly projecting. “As the Mother herself ordered written, those who seek unnatural carnal knowledge will make all of Morlofte unclean! As it is written, the price to purify us is the blood of the criminal!”

            “He pays in blood! It is as written!" After a moment, the crowd began to repeat it, over and over, it is as written, until they were pressing forward, jostling to be at the front of the crowd. Their words ran together as Aidan stared at his hand.

            The Singer leaned down and gently closed his fingers into a fist. It didn’t even occur to him to do anything but obey her, even though he shuddered at her touch. Then, she laid his arm down, with the inside of his wrist facing up, on the wooden block. Aidan’s breath came faster and faster, dark spots dancing at the corner of his vision, threatening to grow into blindness. The third guard stepped in to hold it down and she pulled back and away. 

One of the original two guards handed the Singer an axe.

            “It is my solemn duty to mete out the sentence declared by order of the Mother Herself. I weep for you,” The Singer said, smiling so broadly he could have counted each and every one of her teeth. The fire danced and sparkled in her eyes, making them something more than human. Something less.

            She swung the axe up, holding it for a moment that seemed to last an eternity. Aidan heard a scream, as if from very far away, and realized belatedly he was the one screaming.

“My people belong to me,” The Singer whispered. "Only me. Always... me. You belong to me."

The pendant of the Mother’s Hand over his chest suddenly burned like a brand.

She brought the axe down so hard it stuck into the wood and she could not pull it free again.

There was a hush of one second, two seconds, three-

            Aidan’s eyes suddenly bulged. His scream became a high-pitched, animalistic thing. He thrashed helplessly but the guards held him fast. Blood poured from the wound, the hideous open flesh and bone that had been a secret to him all his life, now laid horribly bare for all to see. The crowd stared, suddenly wide-eyed and silent, children beginning to wail in earnest. Their mothers held them tight, but still no one turned away. No one wanted the Singer to notice them unable to bear the sight.

            Lars stood right at the front of them all, just off to the side. His jaw was set, something like determination in his expression. He had not flinched when the axe came down. Aidan saw nothing there, in his expression, but he knew too well the fire in front of him didn't burn half so hot as the fire inside Lars now.

            The Singer leaned down and picked up Aidan’s left hand, fingers still curled tightly into a fist. As though the hand that had been attached to his left wrist just seconds ago was a strange and disturbing toy. One finger twitched, and Aidan could have sworn he felt the movement.

One of the guards pulled something from the fire, metal bright red in color laced with orange, and Aidan stared, jerking back a moment too late.

The flat, hot metal pressed to his wound. Aidan felt only a moment of agony before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed forward in a heap.

The Singer quirked a smile down at him, then tossed the hand lightly into the fire to burn.

[seth-whumps]

there's always a healthy dose of fear to the hands of a medic. do what you can and know every step can ruin what life they have left; your hands are stained with blood that isn't yours and somehow that's worse; there's a cruelty to modern medicine and it's in the anesthetics and needles and the poker you've got in the fire, just in case; you can help, but honey, it'll hurt before it heals.

[iknowicanbutwhy]

mmmm. co mic

@teaspoonofdragons decided that Sig's claws, when they cut deep enough, burn the wound shut an hour later and one day I was like :) what if he cut Amitie haha

[whumpneto]

+ bonus:

Antonio Banderas as El Mariachi in Desperado (1995) (Part One)

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2023

Day twenty two: Can’t scream

—

Whumpee is badly injured on the field with the enemy close to finding them. Caretaker has no choice but to operate emergency surgery on them or they might bleed out. Except, when Caretaker starts to cauterize the punctured skin whumpee has to cover up a blood curdling scream. They stuff a fist into their own mouth and bite down against flesh. Caretaker can’t take any chances, and stuffs a piece cloth between Whumpees teeth to silence them. Whumpee bites down and forces themself quiet with tears rolling along their cheeks. The next burn is even more painful than the first, and whumpee can only pray that the enemy didn’t hear them.

[quietwingsinthesky]

it is funny to me that most of my posts on here are pure hornyposting, it’s not very representative of what I actually think about when I fantasize about characters. mostly I just imagine holding them down and carefully pulling a bullet from a wound in their stomach, ordering them to stay still as I retrieve it, listening to them choke down pained noises as blood covers my hands, and when I finally get it and the damaged flesh out of them, they still have to be methodically sutured back up. And there’s no painkillers <3

which I guess is also kind of like hornyposting, if you think about it

[jumpywhumpywriter]

"I Want You to Scream" -- Hero Tortured by Villain, Intimate Whumper part 1

Warnings: chains/restraints, severe torture, blood, cauterization, iron rod branding, knives, intimate whump, etc.

(Villain whumper is she/her Hero whumpee is he/him)

Villain slowly slunk towards her victim with predatory grace, who was chained up and pinned so nicely on the bed.

It was Hero, her prized whumpee, at her mercy at last after so many months of battle.

Hero was tied down on the bed, completely exposed and vulnerable only in underwear.

His eyes tracked every one of Villain's movements around the room as she fished out her phone from a pocket, aiming it and taking several pictures of Hero's restrained form with a coy smile.

Hero's skin burned with shame, and he desperately wished he could cover up, but there was nothing he could do but lay sprawled out on the soft mattress. Metal cuffs were on each wrist and ankle, attached to the furthest parts of the bed that strained his muscles to their absolute limit until they were aching and sore.

"W-What are you doing?" He snapped, and the Villain's smile widened.

"Why, I'm ruining your flawless reputation, of course!" She laughed coldly. "I wonder what your friends and the citizens you're supposed to protect will think when they see that you've been sleeping around with the very villain you were supposed to save them from. I imagine they'll turn against you, don't you think? You'll become just as much of an enemy to the city as I am! Isn't that exciting?"

Hero's gut twisted violently at the thought. There had been one hero in the past he knew of that had done such a thing with a villain, and the citizens had been so enraged they attacked and killed them in a riot, even if it was partially accidental. And it was all Current Hero's fault. He had exposed the affair to the public, having no clue the citizens were capable of such violence.

Hero desperately hoped his friends and teammates would understand. He hoped they would see the fear in his eyes in those pictures, and realize that he was trapped, not pleasing the Villain in some wicked game.

Villain came over to sit on the edge of the bed, giving him a mockingly sympathetic look.

"You know, hero... I used to be in your shoes. So eager to please, to be loved by the citizens of the city," she said icily. "Until I realized that they weren't worth the effort. They'd turn on you the first chance they got, no matter how long you've protected and looked after them."

Hero's brow furrowed in confusion. What on earth was she talking about?

Villain chuckled pityingly at the puzzled expression on his face. "You'll figure it out eventually." She patted his shoulder condescendingly.

Hero's mind whirred trying to figure out what she could possibly mean as Villain got up from the bed, walking over to a dresser and rifling through the contents of the top drawer, before pulling out a small but wickedly sharp knife. Hero's chest seized with fresh fear, eyeing her warily as she returned to the bed.

He cried out in pain as she pushed him down into the mattress, putting even more stress and tension on his already over-strained muscles and joints. Then it suddenly clicked.

"Wait... are you the hero that went rogue?" He sputtered.

Villain smiled wolfishly down at him, her voice dropping low and dangerous. "Bingo," she whispered maliciously.

"But... how? You were killed!" Hero couldn't believe his eyes anymore. A good amount of time had passed since Former Hero's presumed death... but now that Current Hero was looking closer... he recognized Villain.

"No, dear one, I did not die," Villain said coldly. "The villain I was in love with was the man who was killed in that bloody riot. They killed him as an act of revenge against me for 'betraying them', in their eyes. They stole him from me and butchered him. That's when I realized the people of this city deserved to suffer, not be saved by a knight in shining leather. After everything I did for them as a hero... and they still ruined my life by killing the one I loved." She grinned wickedly, tracing her fingers up Hero's bare chest before booping him on the nose.

"And now you are being exposed in the same way you once exposed me. As a filthy. Dirty. Liar. Having an affair with a villain. So poetic, isn't it? I may be a bit theatrical when it comes to revenge..." She hummed to herself, tracing lines along the sensitive parts of his skin teasingly.

Hero shuddered and twitched at the light touches, flinching every time her cold fingers brushed his body as she shifted from those deceptively gentle touches to rubbing her hands on his broad shoulders, pushing him down even further until he felt like his arms might dislocate at any second from the sheer pressure of the chains holding them taut.

"Please..." Hero let out a pathetic groan, the stretching pain was almost too much to bear. "Please... I'm sorry for the pain I caused you... please let me go... I promise I will leave you alone."

Villain let go of his shoulders and tapped her chin thoughtfully, dramatically pretending to think it through.

"Mmmhmm, a tempting offer, but I think not." She smiled viciously, eyes narrowed and full of hate and venom hiding deep-seated pain and grief as she leaned closer, looming over him and dropping her head to the side of his face.

"I want you to scream like my lover screamed when your precious citizens murdered him in cold blood," she hissed in his ear, then placed a mocking kiss on his neck, before planting another on his cheek as she pulled back.

Hero shivered with sudden terror, feeling violated as Villain invaded his space. His heart sank with dread. Villain had earned a reputation for being violent and vicious... and now Hero was the center of her attention, and at her mercy, which was a very, very bad place to be.

"Wait--We can talk about this--" Hero started trying to negotiate, but his words turned into a blood curdling shriek of agony as Villain suddenly dug her knife hard into his shoulder without warning, deep enough to scrape bone.

Hero thrashed and writhed as much as the chains would allow as she slowly started carving a bloody emblem into his shoulder, taking her sweet time to make it look nice, a mark of ownership. Her victim screamed wildly, unable to out-scream the pain as the sharp blade plunged into his flesh over and over again with detailed precision and skill.

Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba

[theredhobbit]

I was sober, and then I picked the scab of you from off my heart and tried to cauterize with alcohol.

You are my most deliberate form of self mutilation. You give me the very best writing material for a manic chapter. If I drown myself in your scent till I vomit, then by aversion therapy standards, I should be cured. I could spew up all of the nights I spent swallowing the lies and buying into my own feigned naievity to what this was leading to.

You're my muse. The one I'll complain about as an old spinster. The one who taught me never to wait around to be good enough for anyone because, damnit, I would never reach a level that wasn't placed for me. I could steam roll my way into whatever space I desired. That didn't mean I was welcome.

You're like a ritualistic cigarette that comes with an airplane ride. TSA, Flight, Drive, Work, Kerry, TSA, Flight, Drive, Life.

Every single time I see you, I plan to tell you I can't see you anymore. That seeing you tortures my mind for days after, and you're just living as if a cloud finally passed again from your view.

It's fine.

It's fine.

It's fine.

You were never going to be mine, and now I recognize I was never going to be yours. But you didn't have to be so damn good at making me feel like we belonged to each other in those moments. Maybe we did. However, fleeting. However drunk.

[determinedwriter]

Whumptober 2023: Day 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Ro

I should be used to this by now. Running away from some jerks with guns who want to murder some Avengers.

And yet, right now I’m pissed because it’s happening again. More bad guys with guns and more chaos. What a surprise.

But I think I might really be in trouble this time.

The compound is in shambles and I’m running through the woods nearby to escape, too overwhelmed by enemies to fight them. I only hope I’m running in the right direction.

After a while, I use my powers of fire flight to suspend myself in the air and survey the area, soon realizing I’ve made a mistake.

All I see now is trees. The woods surround me on every side as far as the eye can see. How long have I been running?

For too long, clearly.

I land on the forest floor, trying to think of what to do next. I’m completely alone. Everything happened so fast that all I have are the clothes on my back and my pocket knife. I always carry it with me. It was my mother’s.

My breathing picks up so I place a hand over my heart and try to calm myself. “You’re fine. Everything’s fine. You’ll get back home and everyone will be safe.”

Maybe if I keep telling myself that, it’ll become true.

Things weren’t looking too good when I left. I just remember a ton of smoke, chaos, and my dad yelling at me to run. To get out of there.

I think his instinct saved my life. At this point, I can only hope he is alive too. He’s more than capable of defending himself, so I’m sure he’s alright. I just hate not knowing for sure.

And Peter? I have no idea where he is. We weren’t together when the compound was attacked. I tried to find him, but when my dad told me to run, I did. I didn’t have time to find my best friend.

God, please tell me he’s safe too. Even if it means he’s lost in the damn woods just like I am. That’s a lot better than him being dead, no matter how confusing the endless trees are.

After some mindless wandering, I find a small, clearly long abandoned shack. It’s deep enough in the woods that I’m wondering who would’ve left something like this here.

It also makes me think of my mom. She and I lived in a little hideaway honestly not that much bigger than this one for the first nine years of my life.

It only ever ended because HYDRA found and killed her. Bucky Barnes found and killed her. Or I guess the Winter Soldier did. I’ve tried my best to make peace with that.

But God, it’s hard. It’s not that I don’t forgive Bucky, I’m just never going to be able to forget that day. The day she died right in front of me with a bullet to the head.

I sigh, trying to think of something else as I enter the shack. Just focus on staying safe right now. No time to reminisce about your shitty past, Ro.

Try to forget how it hits you like a freight train.

With enough time and focus on the situation at hand, I stop feeling like I’m about to cry. I have to pay attention right here and now. It could get me killed if I get lost in my head.

No time for tears.

There’s a rustling and the sound of footsteps outside maybe an hour after I arrive at the shack. Startled, I hurl a fireball out of a broken window and towards the noise.

I hear someone fall to the ground with a thud. “Whoa!”

Holding my breath, I wait for them to either fight me or leave. Please be the ladder. “Stay the fuck away from me or I’ll make sure I burn your face off, asshole!”

“It’s me!” I hear a voice yell shakily.

“Peter?!” I exclaim, quickly exiting the shack and seeing him on the ground, wound in his side. “Oh my God, Peter!”

“H-Hey.” He says, not having the energy for much else.

“Did I hurt you?!” I ask, feeling terribly guilty. “I-I thought…oh my God, I thought you were one of those guys at the compound! I’m so-“

“I’m fine. Well, I’m not fine but you didn’t hurt me. Someone else did.” Peter explains. “You kinda just knocked me on my butt.”

I chuckle in shock, kneeling beside him. Tears burn my eyes. “I’m so sorry. L-Let me help you. It’s alright. You’re gonna be fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but allows me to help him inside the shack where I lay him down on the floor. “Don’t move. I’ve got you.”

I can tell he’s trying to keep quiet, not wanting to scare me with cries of pain. “Okay.”

With nothing else to do, I use my jacket to make strips of bandages, cutting it with my knife so I can wrap it around Peter’s wound.

Peter grins, despite the pain. “I really liked that jacket on you.”

“Shut up.” I reply teasingly.

He grimaces in pain as I apply the bandages, struggling not to scream out. “Hnnngh…”

“I know.” I say. “I know, Pete. I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”

The bleeding seems pretty bad and the strips of fabric aren’t doing much to help that. Peter seems to realize that too. “Ro?”

I nod. “Peter.”

“You should leave. Before those guys find us.” He suggests. “If they surround you, I’m not gonna be able to help.”

“I can take care of myself. And I’m not abandoning you.” I reply. “Don’t even entertain that idea.”

He sighs shakily. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you either. I’m staying. End of story.” I tell him. I love you, I love you, I love you.

But of course I don’t say that. I don’t tell him I love him. I don’t tell him I’ve had a crush on him since our freshman year.

“Ro?” He asks again. “I…have an idea.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve me leaving you, I’ll listen.” I say.

Peter nods. “It doesn’t. It actually might help me. Or hurt me worse. But we’ll see. Umm…”

“Spit it out.” I press him.

“You should cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding.” He suggests. “It’s not gonna stop if we don’t do something about it.”

I grit my teeth. “You want me to use my powers to possibly make things worse and burn you?”

“What other choice do we have?” Peter questions me.

I pause, sighing. “I could kill you. We should wait for help.”

He grabs my hand, his covered in blood. “I don’t think help is coming anytime soon. It’s your choice, but I…I don’t know what else to do. I’ll bleed out.”

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that it bleeds, too anxious to stop holding my breath. “If I kill you, it’s your fault.”

Humor. It’s how I’ve decided to cope right now.

Because I won’t let myself cry.

Peter chuckles weakly. “Got it.”

I summon heat to my palms. “Sorry in advance.”

“It’s alright.” He says. “Gotta get it done.”

I look at him earnestly. “I really…I…”

“Don’t be scared.” He reassures me. “I trust you.”

I gulp. “It’s not that. I…I just wanted to…tell you I…I love you. I…I mean I…”

“I love you too, Ro.” Peter replies with no hesitation. “I’ve always loved you.”

My cheeks heat up. “That works out then. So don’t die.”

He looks me in the eyes. “Not planning on it.”

“Just in case we don’t make it out of here, I needed you to know that.” I explain. “I love you, Peter Parker.”

“I love you too, Aurora Stark.” He echoes.

I place a soft kiss on his lips. “Be strong, okay?”

He nods. “Let’s do it.”

Despite my fear, I lower my hands down to his wounded side, trying to be as gentle as I can as I literally burn him.

Peter bites his lip, groaning in pain and wincing. “Sorry.”

I blink at him. “You’re sorry? I’m the one hurting you. Don’t you say you’re sorry.”

He lets out a pained laugh. “Fair enough.”

My stomach turns as I continue to work on him, feeling terribly guilty as I burn his skin. I absolutely hate hurting this sweet boy.

But thankfully, my work seems to pay off. The bleeding almost completely stops with enough effort on my part. I wrap the makeshift bandages around his side, hoping it’s enough to keep him safe for now.

“Thanks…” Peter breathes.

I kiss him harder this time, tears streaming down my face. I can’t hold it in anymore. “Don’t you dare die.”

“Thanks to you, I think my chances are better than before.” He says. “You’re a literal lifesaver, you know.”

“Jury’s still out.” I reply. “We’ll have to see. But you know what, I’ll stay optimistic for your sake.”

Peter takes my hand again. “Good.”

“Good.” I copy, laying on the floor beside him. “Stay alive.”

We lay on the floor together, neither of us knowing for sure what’s next. I just hope everyone else is alright and that we’re found soon. Maybe I should survey the area again.

I move to get up and Peter grabs my arm. “Where are you going?”

“I should fly up and see if I can find anyone and anything that will help us.” I tell him.

“I’m scared of you leaving.” He admits.

I kiss his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

Leaving him there, I fly up into the air and see a hovering figure in the distance like a speck of red and gold. “Dad?!”

The figure turns to me, rocketing over and hugging me in the air. “Oh, thank God.”

I let myself extinguish, Dad holding me close to him as we stay in the air for a moment. “You’re okay! I wasn’t sure. God, I’m so glad you’re not dead.”

“I’m glad you’re not dead too, kiddo.” He says.

“You’ve gotta help Peter though, come on!” I exclaim, showing him the shack where the boy lies on the floor with his makeshift bandages nearly soaked through with blood. I’m unsure if I’ve even helped him at all.

“Mr. Stark…” Peter croaks weakly. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”

“Come on, kid. Let’s get you to SHIELD. There’s a base not far from here and it’s where everyone is regrouping.” Dad explains.

We quickly take Peter there where he is treated and I’m told my cauterization of his wound worked and significantly reduced blood loss. Thank God for that.

And with our love confessions still in our minds, Peter and I will not soon forget them. Even if it does make things a little awkward in a schoolyard kid kind of way.

I’m still shy to show my feelings to the boy, despite having kissed him. That life or death situation really pushed me to be bold.

And I guess it worked out, because Peter actually likes me the same way.

So maybe bad guys with guns can result in some oddly good things, including love confessions.

Let’s just hope we don’t have to deal with any more fighting for the foreseeable future. I’d like for things to be a bit calmer for once.

Plus, I’ve got a date with Peter Parker.

[sortofanobsession]

Will o’ the Wisp - Ch. 4 (Umbrella Academy WIP)

Author’s Note: Okay, so I managed to get some more done. I have more sketched out but not sure how soon it will be done. I have plans. So stay tuned. Unbeta’d.

Please see chapter 1 for explanation of characters and character name details for Viktor. (again I am willing to take suggestions on this)

Minors DNI

So as it goes, Y/N = your name. Y/N/N = your nickname.  Reader pronouns She/Her.

Tag Requests are Open just message me.

Primary Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Female!Reader (Slow Burn)

Luther tries to be a decent brother, he isn't the best at it.

Series/TUA Masterlist

Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5

Word count: 5k+

Content Warning: Canon typical neglect, manipulation, violence, angst, anger, fire, flames, knives (cuz Diego is gonna Diego) guns, gunshot wounds, blood, cauterization, head wound, mentions of death, mentions of murder, poison, depression, anxiety, fear, mentions torture (I probably missed something, so let me know and I'll tag it.)

Chapter 4: Discussions and Distractions 

Y/N and Luther get back to the academy. She lets out a long sigh as she rolls her shoulders and lets the Wisp form behind her. Luther had gotten so used to her doing that, that he didn’t usually bat an eye, but this time he takes a second to study the hue and intensity of the glowing form. After everything, they had talked about, and the fact they probably talked more now than they had since they were really little, he really looked at both her forms. How could she stand constantly having dueling perspectives? The more he tried to think about it, the more it seemed nauseating. Like, split-screen video games or picture-in-picture but 24/7 and beyond just audio-visual. They’ve been together their whole lives, and he is just really putting it into perspective now. He clearly sucks at being the sympathetic brother. He looks away from her glowing form and to her actual human one. She looked weary, almost drained. He wonders how much it takes out of her to have this extra entity that is constantly battling for space. It might not be a mental thing, but it clearly took a toll. Would she even tell him if she needed a break or help? Would any of them? He guessed that was kind of the situation they were all navigating now. Learning to work together again. And all it took was someone killing their dad. Maybe he was thinking too much about this.

"What?" She asks when her much larger brother just keeps staring at her.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but-"

"I know," she says knowingly. "I need to get more sleep.” She huffs a sort of tired laugh and smiles. “Wisp is more of a ragged refulgence right now."

Luther wasn’t about to admit he wasn’t actually sure what that meant. Ragged, made sense. That one he got. Refulgence? Well, that one he would have to look up. Why did his sisters have to genuinely be so much smarter than he was? But he ignored it. It wasn’t meant as a dig against his intelligence or anything like that. That she usually reserved for Diego. He knows her tone made it clear it was supposed to be, at least partially, a joke.

"Yeah," he nods. 

She gives him an amused look as he seemed to be in his head again. “Remember to get some sleep yourself, Luther.” With that, she goes off to her room. He goes to find Allison.

Y/N wakes up to Pogo telling her she had a call. She isn’t too surprised to find her boss on the line. She had given him the number as an emergency contact. She had not really expected him to use it, but then again, the guy wasn’t great on boundaries at times. For what feels like hours but is probably just a few annoying minutes, they argue about her next shift. She tells him how her family needs her and that she can’t come back yet. She can’t tell him the details. She can’t even guarantee a timeline. Eventually, her boss agrees to give her a few more days unpaid. To which she begrudgingly agrees. 

Grumbling, she goes to get something to eat. Her annoyance is clear in the slight red tint to her fluorescent facsimile.

"Whoa, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Klaus says. She glances up at the Wisp but shrugs. 

"My boss called."

"Fun, clearly went well," Klaus gestures to the aggravated aura.

"He is not happy about having to find someone to cover my shifts. But he did give me more time off, unpaid time off, but that's not a surprise."

"Why do you still work there if your boss sucks?"

"Because I have rent to pay," she says. "And I was lucky to find that job. Not a lot of people want to hire someone like me."

"That is their loss. You're great. A literal ray of sunshine."

"I love you, Klaus, but I think you're a bit biased."

"There you are," She smiles as she sees Five. "If I didn't know better, I would think you were avoiding me."

"You?" Five says. “Nah.” 

"I've seen Luther and Diego more than you, and that's saying something."

"That's because I trust you,” he insists, “I know you can do what I asked you to without me hovering. Hovering is more your thing." He gestures to the Wisp.

"I appreciate that, but I still miss you."

Five smiles sadly. "I miss you too, but once I sort out what I need to, then we'll have all the time we need for you to get sick of having me around like you do, Klaus." 

“You sure you have that much time?” She grins.

“For you?” He pretends to need to mull it over, but he knew the answer. He had genuinely missed her. He’d missed them all, but she had always been up to any challenge he gave her. She never used to back down. She may have lost some of her edge and her warm light, but she was still his sister. “Sure.”

She studies him. "Are you okay?"

"I promise you, Y/N/N, I am not the one you need to worry about."

She narrows her gaze at him. "See, that just makes me worry more."

He chuckles. "I know, but I trust you to do what needs to be done."

"But what is your end goal, Five? I can't help you much if you don't tell me."

"I'm handling it," he insists.

"But-" 

He squeezes her shoulder. “Just keep working on getting everyone on the same page."

She snorts a laugh. "I'm not even sure they're all using the same book, let alone page."

"You, Diego, and Luther were all in the same room and walked away agreeing on something last night, right?" She nods. "Then you are already doing better than I expected."

Grace approaches them. 

"There you are, Y/N," she smiles, "you have a call." 

"I'll fill you in later, okay?" Five assures her.

"Okay," she nods before going to get the phone. She was only partially surprised to find out it was her neighbor, Joan. Someone else she had given the number to for emergencies. 

"Hey Joan, I'm sorry I didn't let you know but my trip home is taking a bit longer than I expected." She informs her only friendly neighbor. "Oh, I told Allison you were a fan…"

"There you are. I think we found something about Dad." Luther pulls Y/N to the side. 

She is instant to inquire, "What did you find?" 

“Pogo gave Allison the key to the surveillance videos. Dad had been using them again. Getting paranoid, I guess.”

“So you have video from the day he died?”

“Exact moment and before it.”

“So?” she prompts him to continue when he doesn’t elaborate. 

“Grace gave him a cup of tea, and then he died.”

“So you think she did it?” She finds that hard to believe. She was their mom. She helped raise them when Reginald Hargreeves couldn’t be bothered to. 

“You can see for yourself once the others get here.” They stand in silence for a moment while she really thinks about it. What would have been Grace’s motive? Why was he telling her now if they were going to show everyone later? Unless…  

"Please tell me you don't think what I think you're thinking, Luther."

"I'm just telling you what we found. Figured you would want a heads up, going to have a family meeting."

"Luther," she starts. 

"I'm not saying it was him, just you know how he is with Grace," Luther says.

"He would never ask her to do anything like that, never put her in a position like that. I don’t even know if that would be possible. He…no, there has to be something else going on."

"Just don't miss the meeting," Luther says.

Before Y/N turns the corner she hears Diego in Grace’s sitting area. She thought about her conversation with Luther.

“Mom, we need to talk.” 

“Okay,” Grace agrees, “but only for a minute. I need to finish this cross-stitch.” 

“Everything you did for us when we were kids... for me... why'd you do it?”

“Because being your mother is the greatest gift of my life.” 

“Is that you saying that?” 

“I'm not sure what you mean, Diego.” 

“I mean, our father, he... made you.” 

“When you think something, is it like he's telling you what to say?” 

“Your father isn't here, silly. Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, it's... it's not... Look. It's okay... if you hated him. He was terrible to you, to all of us.” 

“Don't say that.” 

“Why not? We were just tools in an experiment to him. Nothing more. So I'm saying, I would understand if... you know, if... if you wanted to hurt him.” 

“Now, now. Mr. Hargreeves was a great man. Industrialist, inventor, Olympic gold medalist. He made the world a better place.” 

“Stop it! Do you hear me? Stop trying to defend him! Mom, you gotta feel something. Look, he treated you worse than anyone. You worked for him for 30 years. He didn't even give you a room to sleep in.” 

“But I've got such beautiful views here.” 

“Mom, those are just paintings.” 

“Of course they are. What a wonderful world she lives in. Sometimes I wonder if she is lonely.”

Y/N can almost sense Diego’s frustration from where she is, but she doesn’t say anything. She just continues on her way. 

The Wisp hovers a few feet behind them all, just high enough not to heat any surfaces. But very little of Y/N’s focus is on the scintillate secondary entity. It was back to its usual melancholy tone. Her focus is on her siblings as they all gather. 

“I mean, do you really think Mom would hurt Dad?” Vanya asks.

“You haven't been home in a long time, Vanya.” 

“Maybe you don't know Grace anymore.”

“Not sure that’s fair,” Y/n mutters. “Most of us have been gone.” 

“If he was poisoned, it would have shown in the coroner's report.” 

“Well, I don't need a report to tell me what I can see with my own eyes.”

“Guys…” she starts.

“Look closer.” 

“Dad has his monocle.” Diego narrates. “Mom stands up. Monocle's gone.” 

“Oh, yeah!” Klaus agrees with a chuckle.

“She wasn't poisoning him. She was... taking it.” 

“To clean it.” 

Luther isn't convinced. “Then where is it? No, I've searched the house, including all her things. She doesn't have it.” 

“That's because I took it from her,” Diego admits. “After the funeral.”

The Wisp flashes a vivid shade of vermillion for a moment before it settles back to its usual melancholy blue. An action that earns her a few winces and nervous looks, but no one mentions it. They instead choose to focus on Diego.  

“You've had the monocle this whole time? What the hell, Diego?” 

“Give it to me.” 

“I threw it away.” 

“You what?”

“You’re a dumbass,” Y/N grumbles as she rubs at her temples. The glimmer of the Wisp changes slightly as she does, intensity ebbing and flowing with the pressure on her temples. Like angry waves on a stormy coast. She misses the glare Diego sends both of her forms. 

“Look, I knew that if you found it on Mom, you'd lose your shit,” Diego explains. “Just like you're doing right now.” 

Y/N shook her head. This meeting was going nowhere fast. She shifted her attention to the Wisp and decided to search for Five. She barely registers the continuing conversation, giving it just enough attention that she couldn't be accused of ignoring it all.

“Diego, you son of a bitch.”  

“Hey, no,” Vanya tries, “Calm down. Look, I know Dad wasn't exactly an open book. But I do remember one thing he said. Mom was, well, designed to be a caretaker, but...also as a protector.” 

“What does that mean?” 

Vanya explains, “She was programmed to intervene if someone's life was in jeopardy.” 

“Well, if her hardware is degrading, then…We need to turn her off,” Luther states. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, wait,” Diego starts. “She's not just a vacuum cleaner you can throw in a closet. She feels things. I've seen it!” 

“She just stood there, Diego, and watched our father die.” 

“I'm with Luther,” Allison tells them. 

“Surprise, surprise.” Diego snarks. 

“Shut up,” Allison glares. 

They look at Vanya. “I... I don't…” 

“Yeah,” Diego doesn’t let her finish. “She shouldn't get a vote.”

“Wh... “ Luther starts.

“I was gonna say that I agree with you,” Vanya points out. 

“Okay,” Diego accepts, “She should get a vote.”  

“What about you, stoner boy? What do you got?” They look to Klaus.

“Oh, so, what? You need my help now? Oh, 'Get out of the van, Klaus!' 'Well, welcome back to the van'."

“What van?”

“What's it gonna be, Klaus?” Luther asks.

“I'm with Diego, because screw you!” Klaus glares at Luther. “And if Ben were here, he'd agree with me.”

“So far, that's three to two.” 

They look at Y/N, but she says nothing.

“Y/N?” Luther calls to her, and when she doesn’t respond, he asks, “Where’s the Wisp?”. 

“What?” Allison looks around. “Not here.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Diego seethes. He can see the faint blue glow under her eyelids. 

“Hey!” Allison shouts as Diego grips their sister’s shoulder and violently shakes it. He fails to duck out of the way when a fist hits his chest, landing him on the floor.

“Asshole,” Y/N mutters as she gets up, flexing her fingers as she does. 

“Were you listening?” Luther asks.

Y/N glares at him. “You doubting me too?” 

She steals Klaus’ booze and takes a swig, earning a laugh from her usually inebriated brother. “Easy, Sunshine,” Klaus says with a grin. “Where’ve you been?”

“Looking for Five,” she pats his cheek as she answers. “So we can end this pointless discussion.”

“Successful mission or no?” Klaus asks with a tilt of his head as she takes another drink before handing it back to him.

“Sadly, I was rudely interrupted.” She glares at Diego.

“You are such a bitch,” Diego grits out from clenched teeth. She ignores him. 

“But did you-” Luther starts on topic again. 

“I heard you, Luther, unlike either of you fellas,” she gestures between Luther and Diego. “I can use both my brain cells.”

“You know what-” Diego starts at her, gesturing with his knife.

“No,” she begins with a sharp tone as four versions of the Wisp cage him in. He freezes. He can feel the intense heat surrounding him. “It’s my turn to vote.”

“Whoa,” Allison says in shock.

“Y/N,” Vanya moves towards her. “I don’t think that’s…”

“I’ve got this V,” Y/N slowly walks in a circle around Diego, just outside the Wisps’ blazing boundary, as it shifts, and he is enhaloed in a ring of light. It twists and coils around him. He feels like he’s surrounded by hellfire. “You want to know my vote, hmm? Fine,” the next part comes out almost saccharine sweet. “I heard your little chat with Mom. She didn’t even remember Reginald Hargreeves was dead at his memorial. She acts like he is just out of town. She has no clue what is happening. I think Mom needs a bit of a time-out or a nap. Isn’t that what she would have us do? Considering she is clearly so out of sorts.” It looked like Diego was going to take a swing at her despite the Wisps.

“That’s new,” Klaus states, somewhat in awe.

“When did she learn that?” Vanya inquires.

“Does it matter?” Allison asks. “She needs to stop!”

“Let him go, Y/N,” Luther says.

“Whatever you say, Number One,” she acquiesces and takes a few steps back before pulling back most of her powers between her open palm until it resembles a large orb she wills down in size. She keeps it there for a moment before letting it shift to its usual form and place behind her. Her everpresent coruscating companion.  

Allison sighs at the dramatics. “Are you trying to burn the place down?”

“I know what I’m doing, Allison,” she replies. 

“So it’s three to three,” Vanya says, trying to shift the focus back to the main topic before her sisters start to fight. 

“Five will have to be the tiebreaker,” Luther admits.

“A vote we’d get done a lot faster if someone had let me finish my search,” Y/N complains. 

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Vanya says.

Y/N goes to leave without saying another word. 

"Hey!" Diego snaps and follows her. “What the hell was that?!”

"Something I haven’t done in a very long time.”

“You had no-”

“No what, Diego? No right? That’s funny, because you can’t be serious. I have every right to be mad. Just like they do. You lied to them, to me. You hid this from them, from me! Let me guess, you don’t even think you did anything wrong, do you?” 

“I was protecting, Grace,” Diego grits out.

“I defended you,” she pokes him in the chest. "You know that?”

"What?" He glares as he swats her hand away. 

"At the gym, before you got there, even earlier today. I told Luther you didn't have anything to do with this. That it couldn’t be you. And yeah, you didn't kill him, but why hide it? Especially after he found out you were in the ring that night. I told him I trusted you, even if you hate me."

"Will you stop saying I hate you!" Diego shouts.

Her jaw dropped momentarily before closing with an audible click of her teeth, and her eyes flash red. But Diego continues his tone a touch less angry, "Does it frustrate the hell out of me when you don't listen, hell yes. Or how you never consider your own safety and choose to focus on everyone else's? Absolutely. Or when you push yourself so far past your limits you look like a shell of your usual self? Damn right it does. But I don't hate you. Never have. I hate that you won't let me explain or even help without you fighting me."

"That's rich coming from you,” she says with an eye roll. “How many times since we got here have you literally screamed you don't want my help."

"Really?” He crosses his arms. “We're going to do this now?"

"Yes, because you don't trust me."

"That's not true!"

"You don't even trust me to protect myself when I'm the Wisp. In the courtyard-"

"That is because I know you push yourself too hard when you're in a fight. You always do. And you are out of practice. And sure, in that meeting, you came out swinging, but in the courtyard? Your focus was on Five's portal, on looking after us, and you didn't even react when I touched you. Not a flinch, not a move to block. Nothing. That’s why I shook you so hard this time. Before, you were leaving just enough in your actual body to keep breathing. What was I supposed to do?"

"I knew you all wouldn't do anything that put me in danger. I knew you wouldn't hurt me,” she tells him. “No matter how much you-"

"I swear if the next words out of your mouth are that I hate you, I might-" He points his finger at  her. And it’s like the anger bleeds out of her. Exhaustion creeping in from manifesting first multiple full-formed Wisps, but then the halo ring for the first time in years. She sways on her feet slightly. On instinct, Diego reaches out to steady her, one hand on her shoulder.

"Point taken, Okay?” She nods. ”Next fight, I'll focus differently."

"Need a hand-to-hand combat refresher, you know where to find me, but it's not just that, okay? If you're going to use your little lights to follow us again, don't scramble your brain too much. I know you're going to keep doing it, just don't push it."

"You've been talking to Luther, haven't you?"

"That too, but the others might not notice when you follow them around with your little lights, but I do. And yeah, you both straight-up confirmed that. I'm shocked you didn't see me toss the monocle. I went to the donut shop crime scene right after. Part of why I was shocked you were defending me."

She punched his shoulder. "Then why didn't you tell me?"

"You were too busy lecturing me to get a word on."

"You're such a jerk."

"Just to you, Luz."

"That's a new one," she grinned.

"Well, if we're supposed to get along, I can't very well call you Bruja anymore."

When she hears the start of a scuffle, Y/N splits into the Wisp and is in the thick of it before she even knows what is really happening. Bullets flying has her transferring enough of her mind back for her body to hit the floor before putting most of her focus back into her illuminated form. Moving to immediately back Diego up and trying to draw as much of the focus on the Wisp as possible. Shoot at her in that form all they want, even if they could. The main issue was these opponents seemed smart enough not to fall for her usual tricks. Especially when she realizes that Klaus and Vanya could be caught in the middle of it all. So she resorted to some older tactics, some of the first ones she learned. Klaus had always called it the flash and crash. Use the Wisp to blind one of the attackers and tackle them from behind. She gave her brother just enough warning to shield his eyes before the Wisp turned blindingly bright, and she went for the masked assailant's knees and panting a superheated fist against the masked face. Earning a litany of curses from Diego as she did. But he was right back at it, using his powers to keep his sister out of his blade's path as he did. He fought back the instinct to put himself between her and the fight but could tell she had actually listened to his earlier advice. Flames in her eyes matched the smoke coming off almost any hit she landed. Even singed the wall when she pushed off in an attempt to get a better angle to attempt to take out the gun. But that earned her a shout from Diego when the barrel of it trained a little too close to her torso for his liking, and a bullet nicked her arm as she dodged. A grunt of pain and shock has her pulling back and ducking into a doorway. She hears her name called before an angry noise from Diego. He was beyond done by that point. Throwing blade after blade to distract and hopefully overwhelm the gunman. He missed the way Y/N tore at the fabric of her sleeve, the fabric burning ever so slightly as she did. She let the Wisp take form and allowed her to split her attention to making sure nothing worse came her way while she dealt with the injury. Most of her heat faded as she wrapped the fabric around the wound and secured it enough before pulling her powers back to her and getting back into the fight. Diego and the fight were no longer right outside the door by the time she was sure the makeshift bandage was secure, and she was ready to get back out there. She goes looking for the fight but finds Vanya hiding in the process. Vanya pulls away as violently as Y/N stops in front of her. “Shit, V,” Y/N says, willing the heat out of her left hand, so she can get a better look at her sister's injury. “You're okay, V. I've got you. If you want I can-”

“Do it,” Vanya nods, wanting to prove that she can handle this stuff. 

“Okay, but this is going to hurt like a bitch, and it only works on surface injuries. You sure?"

"Yeah, we're wasting time," Vanya says.

"Okay, V, brace yourself.” Vanya bites down on her sleeve as her sister superheats a fingertip and, as fast as humanly possible, closes the small wound on her sister’s head.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Y/N repeats before letting the Wisp take all her heat with her into its form. “Let me check.” She brushes Vanya’s hair out of the way and nods. Letting her hand rest against Vanya’s forehead to help calm her ever so slightly. “We should-” They both startle at the sound of the chandelier crashing and running toward the foyer. They are both momentarily stunned when they see Luther before he runs off. Allison goes over to Vanya, and Diego pulls Y/N aside.  

"Let me see," Diego insists, quickly using one of his knives to remove the bloody fabric from her wound as soon as the shock of Luther's reveal wore off. 

"It's a bad scratch," she tries to downplay the fact she barely missed getting shot in the side. She pulls away. "I can take care of it." 

"It's a gunshot wound," he corrected.

"Wait, what?" Vanya says, coming over to look at her sister's arm. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

"I'm fine," Y/N assures them as Allison joins them. The sisters don't miss the grumbled curses from Diego before he storms off. "If I could, I'd have done the same thing I did to your head." 

Allison looks at Vanya's injury and adds, “You should put some ice on that.” 

Vanya nods, wincing slightly as she does but focuses back on Y/N. "But that doesn't work on skin that's used to being superheated, does it?”

"Nope," Y/N replies before hissing in pain as Vanya carefully wipes away some of the ash from the burned sleeve to keep it from getting into the open wound. 

"Sorry," Vanya winces.

"It's okay, V at least I could help you, although it probably hurt more helping than if I had left it. If I had known the fight would be over that quick, I’d have-"

“Diego?” Allison asks when he returns, and he is still furious. He tosses a first aid kit onto the table toward his sisters. 

“What are you still doing here?” He says to Vanya. 

“I'm just trying to help,” Vanya admits, reaching for the kit to attempt to help the sister that had helped her. 

Y/N recognizes the look Diego has. “Please, Diego,” she cautions him.

He ignores her and continues to focus on Vanya. “No, you could've been killed. Or gotten any of us killed. She is a liability.” He looks between his sisters that do have powers. 

Vanya looks at Allison. “Allison?” 

“I think what he's trying to say is that this kind of stuff is dangerous,” Allison says. “You're just…”

“Not like you,” Vanya finishes for her. She sets the first aid kit back down.

“V, it's…” Y/N tries to say something at the same time Allison says. “No, that's not what I... Vanya, wait.” But Vanya is already leaving.

“Let her go,” Diego tells them. “It's for the best.”

“Says who?! You?!” Y/N snaps. "I miss the meeting where you became Number One or something?"

“You know I’m right,” Diego attempts to not lose it. He knew she and Vanya were closer than he was with either of them. He also knew she was exhausted before getting shot. So he tried to keep his wits about it.

“She’s injured, Diego! And you just drove her away! What if she-”

“You’re injured too, and unlike her, you still have an open wound.” He retorts.

“She needs our help!” 

"She’ll survive. She is safer as far away from all this as can be. And you!” Diego finally shouts. What happened to your two brain cells huh? You still using them," he turns on Y/N. "When I told you to be more aware of your actual body in a fight I did not mean for you to just throw yourself at a gun!"

"I am just as trained in this as you are. I had it covered."

"You got shot!" 

"Would you prefer I left my physical self unattended while those assholes shot through the walls?"

"No!"

"Then pick a fucking lane, Diego! You can't have it both ways! And I sure as hell am not backing out of a full-on assault of my own home just because you want me to! So quit yelling at me!"

She rubbed at her temples as the last bit of adrenaline seemed to fade from her system. She stormed off, taking the first aid kit with her so she could patch up her arm.

Y/N isn’t sure how long she sits in her room. Too exhausted to keep track but too on edge to actually sleep. She wasn’t sure what to do. Her head hangs low as she sits on her bed and leans against the wall. She looks up when through the Wisp that hovers near the center of the room, she sees shadows move outside her door. She sighs as she hears a knock on her doorframe. “It’s open,” she greets. 

The door opens, and Luther asks, "How's the arm?" 

"I've had worse," she assures him. He gives her a skeptical look. "We dealt with enough dicey shit as kids that we both know this is nothing."

"Didn't seem like nothing to Diego from what I hear," he counters.

"Diego was acting like I took a fatal hit," she grumbled. "Though I'm not the one that took a whole ass chandelier." She narrows her gaze at him. "Are you okay?"

"Barely a scratch," he deflects. 

"Luther, I'm not going to push, and you don't have to tell me anything, but…" she saw him physically flinch like she burned him as she spoke. "Is this…is this why you were worried about me checking in on you with my powers?"

"A bit," he admits.

"Because you know I don't care, right? Like, I know what it's like to be the one that gets stared at and whispered about for being…well, a freak. Not that I think you're a freak. I know that you guys think the Wisp is freaky. I know you guys think it's even more unnatural than most of your guys' powers. Ben always got that. Polar opposites powers wise, and he at least could hide his but-"

"You're not a freak,” Luther says, rather bluntly, “Okay?"

She rolled her eyes at that.

"No more than the rest of us ever were,” he adds. “Or at least when we were kids. This is not coming off right," he groans and moves to stand beside the glowing form and gestures to it. "This was never a bad thing, especially not when we were little. You literally lit up a room when you walked in. Always warm, and so…" he frowned at the way her shoulders seemed to shift, and it was like he was watching her close herself off. He groaned again and moved to sit somewhat carefully next to her on the bed. "No one came back from losing Ben, well, you know that, right? You are just the one that has a big flashing, what you call, a neon sign, of what's going on in your heart. It's like a mood ring on steroids. You get mad and glow red. And so bright it's like staring at the sun and standing too close to a forest fire. It's just tough sometimes because it's always blue nowadays. And we know there's nothing we can do to change that. Nothing I can do. I can't bring Ben back. I can't take away the pain of the shit dad put you through. And I can't make Diego less of an asshole." That earned him a laugh and made him grin. "So yeah, it isn't always easy to know there isn't anything I can do. We aren't kids that can just pull pranks or make stupid jokes to make ourselves feel better anymore. But the Wisp doesn't make you any different, any freakier than we were when we were kids. And as you keep pointing out, you're still my sister. Still the same person that refused to listen to half my orders if you think someone needs you."

"Exactly, you're still my brother. You're just even more so my big brother." She grinned. “Really big, big brother.”

"We're the same age, Y/N," he deadpans. 

"Sure, Number One," she shook her head.

“Fine, then as your big, big brother, I say you get some sleep. You look like a strong breeze could take you out.”

“Wanna fight me on that?” She grinned. 

“I would, but you’re injured, so I’ll take the L on that one,” he chuckles.

“Fine, I’m kicking you out,” she conceded. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

“Deal,” Luther stands and heads back to the door. 

“Luther?” she calls before he closes her door.

“Yeah?” 

“Glad you found your other brain cell. You were a badass from what I hear.”

He huffs a laugh. “Sleep, or you might lose yours.”

[remakethestars]

I just came up with a brilliant analogy to teach my dad men the difference between Plan B and the abortion pill!

Plan B

Plan B prevents ovulation. The egg is never fertilized.

James Bond is pregnant. He's sitting in a Walmart parking lot in is Aston Martin, putting his recipt into his purse when he notices a baby waddling up to his car with a Glock.

As it goes to open the door, he hits the lock button and peels out of the parking lot. The baby shoots after him, putting a hole through the back window, but misses James Bond.

The Abortion Pill

The abortion pill is actually two pills. The first is Mifepristone, which causes the baby to stop growing. The second is Misoprostol, which sheds the lining of the uterus. This is rather painful and medically considered an abortion.

James Bond is pregnant. He's sitting in the Walmart parking lot in his Aston Martin, putting a recipt in his pocketbook. All of the sudden, his passenger door opens; a baby gets in, pointing a Glock at him; slams the door; and buckles its seatbelt.

"Drive," the baby says.

James Bond pretends to reach for the gear shift, but at the last second, he slams his hand on the eject button. The baby and the baby's seat go flying backward out of the car.

James Bond peels out of the parking lot. The baby scrambles to undo his seatbelt and sit up, and it shoots after the Aston Martin, hitting James Bond in the shoulder.

Miraculously, of course, the bullet misses the arteries and bones in the shoulder through the power of movie magic. James Bond goes home and heats a knife on the gas stove while he puts the groceries away one-handed. Then he cauterizes the wound.

Later, a friend messages him on Facebook, upset with him for ejecting the baby onto the pavement.

"The baby shot me," James Bond says.

"Well, that's what you get for ejecting a poor innocent baby," says his friend.

James Bond explains he ejected the baby because it was trying to jack his car and was pointing a gun at him.

His friend replies that if he didn't want his car to get stolen, he shouldn't have bought a car.

(James Bond knows for a fact his friend has lots of cars.)

Facebook gives the messages to the government, and they put James Bond on death row for ejecting the baby. After all, its his fault for buying a car in the first place.

Through the power of movie magic, James Bond turns his last meal, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, into C4 and blows up the wall of his cell, miraculously escaping death.

[samurai-yuichi]

What the hell happened?! -Beetle

Well... I'll try to summarise it...

Leo and his team (that's Leo, Mikey, Raph, Donnie, Venus, April, Casey and Cass) went on another run to the Technodrome wreckage to see if they could clear out anything the Foot Clan might want, or any remaining Kraang mutts. They were ambushed by a bunch of them and facehuggers, because as it turns out, Sister Kraang was freed by the Foot, and she'd taken residence on the ship again.

Me and Miyamoto went to go help, but it was too much. A bigger mutt appeared, and Leo... He teleported all of us out and stayed behind... He'd been infected for the last three days, unbeknownst to most of us, and that was why the Kraang were targeting him... They needed a proper host for Kraang Prime.

We were gonna go back for him, but the Lair was under attack by the Foot Clan, who were looking for the Portal Key. Because we were all so worried about Leo, we ended up losing the Key, and the Foot managed to open the portal...

We went back to the Technodrome, where we found out what had happened to Leo... Kraang Prime had taken full control of him, and used him to fight us off while Subprime escaped from the Prison Dimension. I... I'm pretty sure that Leo... His heart... Stopped... Prime was making an example of hurting him, and slammed him into a wall, shattering half of his shell...

I used my Yo-Yo to pull Prime off of him, but he still had the infection in his arm, and it was getting worse. There wouldn't have been any saving him if it spread so I made the choice to... To amputate his arm... Just like he asked me to when he'd told me about the infection...

Donnie and I got Leo out of there while everyone else stayed back to fight the Foot Clan off. We managed to keep Leo conscious long enough to cauterize his arm and get him on some painkillers, and then he ended up passing out from the blood loss... He's safe now, alive, but life for him is never going to be the same.

Then there's the fight... They managed to get the Kraang back into the prison dimension with Venus, April, Casey and Chizu's help, but they couldn't move the Key. The Foot Clan had some how locked it to the pedestal, making it impossible to close the portal. So my brother, Miyamoto, used his sword to destroy the Key, closing the portal once and for all.

We... Thought we'd won... But then Casey Junior... Because we completely erased any chance of his timeline happening... We erased him from existence... And now he's gone...

That's... That's what happened tonight...