#whumpee Jack

[somedayonbroadway]

Laced Drink

Jack Whump Board

TW: Whump, laced drink, kidnapping, predator

Jack was out. At a bar. Well past midnight. And still, he wasn’t drunk. He stared down at the bourbon he ordered and sniffled, looking around. People were still playing pool and making out with strangers and Jack wished he were anywhere else. But he couldn’t go home. No, because Davey would be there and Jack would have to face him.

The twenty two year old picked his glass up and swirled the thing around in its glass as he hunched over on the stool he occupied. He took a small sip before setting the glass down. It was all just some stupid fight and Jack knew it was his fault. It was always his fault. David was a big shot attorney and Jack was a failing artist. It would always be his fault.

He didn’t know why he thought he could be good enough for that man. Davey came from upstate, where all those rich folks live and Jack came from Brooklyn and Harlem and Queens, no money, no parents to fall back on, just a brother he missed and a job at a diner that made his feet ache.

The phone in his back pocket vibrated again with another call and Jack had half a mind to answer it, to break down and beg his boyfriend to come and get him, take him somewhere high off of the streets, somewhere warm and safe.

Then a stranger sat beside him. “So, what’s a young man like you doing all alone on a Saturday night?” Something in Jack’s stomach twisted. He glanced at the man beside him, barely catching a glimpse of his face before looking back down at his drink. He didn’t reply, hoping he’d be left alone. “Oh come on, pretty thing like you couldn’t be here all on his own.”

Jack shook his head. “I’m not interested, buddy,” he muttered, slipping his jacket back on over his shoulders. He brought his glass back up to his lips, like he was gonna take a drink, before he just set the thing down.

“Oh come on, you gotta get something better than that,” the stranger beside him encouraged. “Bartender, bring out a martini for my friend here.”

Jack sighed, looking up at the man, noting the gentleman was at least in his late thirties and giving him a tight smile before looking back down. “That’s not necessary, like I said, I ain’t interested. I’m in a very loving and committed relationship,” he said, biting a bit at the words.

A chuckle escaped the stranger beside him. “Sounds very convincing,” he insisted as the bartender began to make a martini right in front of them. “Thank you, kind sir,” the man winked, offering Jack the glass. “Come on, pretty boy. If you won’t come home with me, at least tell me why your partner isn’t keeping you under lock and key like they should be.”

The words sent an uncomfortable wave up Jack’s spine. He ignored it. He still refused to meet the person’s gaze. “Stupid fight. That’s all. In fact, I should probably be going,” he sighed, slapping a bill down on the table and nodding at the man, about to leave before the man put his arms out.

“Hey, hey, at least sit and have this drink with me. Be rude to leave a man like this after he orders you a drink.”

Jack paused. He really didn’t know how to face David right now. He’d already passed the stranger, he could just keep going. But he came out for a drink, a distraction, and still, all he’d thought about was David. So he turned around and faced the man who was sitting with the martini outstretched to him. Without even thinking, Jack took the thing and downed it in one swift gulp, setting the glass down on the bar and clenching his jaw. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“Another?” the man offered with a smile.

Jack slowly sat back down. “Just one,” he whispered, lazily waving down the bartender as his phone went off again. He took the thing out and ended the call, unable to handle all of this right now. His gut was twisting in knots, but he just thought he felt guilty for accusing David of sleeping with another man. And he did. Somewhere deep down, he knew David wouldn’t do that to him. David had always been there, even during Jack’s worst days.

Jack downed another drink.

That’s when he began to feel it. It was hot in this bar. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead so he wiped at it, confused as his vision began to blur. The world seemed to slow down. “I… I don’t feel good,” he admitted to the man beside him. He wasn’t usually such a lightweight. “I need ta get home.”

“Don’t worry, Jack, I’ll get you home.”

Jack froze, looking up at the man. “H-how do you know my name?” His arms grew heavy. His mouth began to get very, very dry.

The man only smiled at him, standing just as Jack did, barely catching him before the young man could hit the ground. Jack gasped a bit and tried to pull away, quickly realizing he had no strength to do so. His knees grew weak and all he could hear were echoes in this loud, loud room. He looked around, seeing nothing as he groaned out for help, screaming in his head but only mumbling in the real world. He began to panic as this stranger walked him out of the bar and into a parking lot. His phone rang again, he tried to reach for it. “Shshshshsh,” the man hushed, slipping Jack’s phone out of his pocket and into his own hand. “Don’t worry, we’re going to a safe place,” he assured. “A refuge.”

Jack couldn’t protest. He breathed hard, trying to look around for anyone to help him before he was laid down in the backseat of a black SUV. The old man loomed over him, using a zip tie to secure his wrists tightly together. Jack whimpered, trying to squirm away, to get out.

The man ran a hand over his hair. “Don’t you worry, pretty boy… we’ll be home soon,” he said, slamming the door shut and getting into the driver’s seat.

All Jack could do was lay back and allow himself to be taken away by this mysterious man who seemed to know him, wishing he’d never left home.

[whumpninja]

The same whump prompt, three different ways:

“Y-you can’t do that! It’s inhuman!”

“Yes, but they’re not human, are they?”

“Y-you can’t do that! It’s inhuman!”

“Yes, but I’m not human, am I?”

“Y-you can’t do that! It’s inhuman!”

“Yes, but you’re not human, are you?”

[tetragonia]

poor boy :(

[rizzoto-whump]

"Everything's going to be alright, Whumpee. Trust me."

"I know."

"No, it ain't. I'm lying to make you feel better."

[soullessjack]

when you don’t know who you are and you think you’re human and normal until you find out you’re not human, not normal, you’re something else entirely and whatever idea you had about yourself was fucking wrong and you can do weird unnatural things that scare you and aren’t fully controllable yet. and you just want to understand yourself and control yourself so you don’t hurt anyone and can still be the person you think you are instead whatever the truth holds for you.

and you try and use this weird new truth about yourself to try and do good and help the world you were born in and come to love so much and you’re like a hero you wanna be a hero. but the world doesn’t love you back or see you as a hero, it hates you. it doesn’t believe you’re a hero. it doesn’t know what you are , it doesn’t know why you’re here , it demands that you answer the same questions you’ve had your whole life

and instead of finding the answer you find something else . You find a way to do good and be loved and accepted and feel normal despite yourself and you think you’ve found a foothold you think you’ve found understanding at long last . You think you belong snd you think This Is Who You Are until it’s ripped the fuck away from you when finally you learn the truth you’ve been fearing yet searching so hard for. you finally have answers to the lifelong questions of who are you what are you really where do you come from and boom. You’re not a hero . You’re the very threat and danger that the world kept saying you were, kept hurting you because they thought you were.

Every single weird thing you can do has a purpose to destroy and kill and you are born to be a weapon and you can never love anything. Or be loved in return because what you are is a weapon a monster a freak a thing that should not be a thing that will never belong and is fundamentally unlovable . And you’re sorry that’s what you are. You’re so sorry that’s what you are and you hate that it’s the truth and you wish you could go back to not knowing anything at all and you wish you could stop being this fucking Thing but you can’t because it’s in your fucking blood and your DNA and your double helixes and your flesh and nerves and everything.

Your entire body and being and existence and core is made for something horrible and evil and you hate it but you can’t do anything about it except say you’re sorry and offer yourself to the gun or the altar because you still. At the point where you’ve relegated yourself to only being this thing, you still don’t want to, . The last good thing you can do at this point is let yourself die and spare the world from your own inescapable inherent biological ruinousness.

[a-sin-to-be-rin]

Mac + Jack + Mortality

They say it like a joke, but that’s never truly been the case. This game that isn’t a game. This cat-and-mouse where the mouse finds a handgun and - bam - dead cat. Jack has known this for decades. Not one day is promised. But even someone as paranoid as himself can forget. As he watches Mac bleed out, feels the concussion drag him to the floor, hears the mocking voice over the tinny speaker, the harsh truth all but smacks Jack in the face:

Everyone has to die. Secret agents doubly so.

---

Jack wakes up aching. Every joint, every muscle, every hair on his head. Even his teeth. Ache. In fact, ache is too weak a word. There should be something stronger.

… mega-ache.

Jack mega-aches. 

There. That's better.

But Jack is a professional soldier. He might hurt, but he can't let it sideline him. He's been trained to assess the whole situation before acting. And as much as he aches - mega-aches - the threat beyond his skin may be worse.

So Jack listens.

Dripping water. Buzzing fluorescents. Ragged breathing.

Actually…

Jack holds his breath and listens again.

Ragged breathing. A groan.

So he's not alone.

Jack tries to remember what happened. His brain feels like someone threw it in the microwave and set it for “baked potato.” But even baked potatoes have ideas from time to time. He rubs his spuddy brain cells together, and they supply him with a memory.

“-and finally, ending our first night with a show.” Jack patted Mac’s arm. “A show of your choosing.”

“What? I get a choice?” Mac was abnormally chipper, but Jack supposed that was the Manniversary talking. It did bring out the best in both of them.

“Yeah! As long as it’s the Legends of Metal tribute or the Blue Man Group. Which, I mean really, there is no choice there. It’s Legends of Metal the whole way, right?”

Mac snorted. “No argument there.”

Jack smiled. He had no doubt.

“Does this itinerary involve any pool time? Maybe day two? I’d like to do some actual relaxing on this trip.” 

“Mac, we’re from SoCal! We can relax, soaking up rays by the pool anytime. This is Las Vegas, baby! We gotta turn it up!”

“Except we never do that because every time we try to relax-”

BAM!

Glass shattered. The car jerked to the side, and Jack smacked his head on the window. Everything was spinning, spinning, spinning-

And then nothing.

Yeah. That happened. But the ground under Jack’s hands is cold. Far too cold for Nevada pavement in mid-July. And now that Jack is thinking about his hands, he starts to think about his face. About how it’s a little difficult to breathe. How something is digging into the sides of his face and the back of his head.

Jack feels his heart rate skyrocket, but he tries to finish his assessment before he opens his eyes. His foot feels… heavy. Something is weighing it down. Cutting into his skin. And…

And his boots are gone. The car crash knocked his only nice dress shoes off his damn feet. Jack is going to kill the driver that smashed into them.

Wait, them?

… Mac.

To hell with it. Jack opens his eyes, finding a very blurry, mostly-obscured room around him. He knocks the mask off of his face (an old-timey gas mask, he notes) and sits up instantly, earning himself a severe case of head rush. But behind dizzying stars, Jack spots his partner, sprawled out nearby with a similar mask on. Jack does a quick assessment of his surroundings (a cell, one foot chained, just him and Mac) before scooching over to knock the mask off Mac’s face and pat him on the cheek.

“Hey. Mac. Wake up.”

It takes Mac a solid ten seconds to open his eyes, during which Jack’s already racing heart won the triple crown.

“Jack?” Mac groans. He starts to sit up, and Jack helps him the rest of the way. “You okay?”

Jack is pretty sure it doesn’t matter how he feels. “I dunno. I think so. D’you know where we are?” Because he sure as hell doesn’t.

Mac shakes his head but stops abruptly, winces, and rubs his shoulder. “Dunno. Do you?”

“Some sorta prison?”

Mac’s eyes turn steely, jaw clenching. “Or worse.”

Because he’s a cheerful, optimistic guy who always sees the best in every situation.

“Yeah,” Jack agrees. Because he, while normally the optimist, is feeling pretty damn pissed about the whole thing. “Like, what the hell were those freaky-looking gas masks for?”

Mac flips his own gas mask upside-down and taps on it. Powder floats from the filter, drifting to the floor.

Jack frowns, eyeing his own mask warily. “What is that?”

“Not sure. But going off the grogginess and the bad taste in my mouth? I’d bet ketamine.”

“So they drugged us?”

Mac chucks the gas mask at the wall.

“That makes sense,” Jack muses. “That’s how they knocked us out for transport.” He shakes his head. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this one, buddy. Somebody really planned this out.”

“Yeah.” Mac quiets down, slumping against the wall. He hugs his stomach, eyes glassy. It scares Jack how few thoughts appear to be going through Mac’s head.

“I think… I think I can break us out,” Jack decides. He takes a minute to stand, the world spinning around him, before he pulls at his chain. It’s anchored to the floor and doesn’t budge an inch. But Jack keeps trying because he won’t stay here. He won’t.

As for Mac, he watches Jack numbly.

So Jack pulls and pulls, vertigo intensifying with every tug. He falls more than once, making Mac jump every time. But every time, Jack stands up with an, “I’m good. I’m good.”

(He’s not good.)

“Jack?”

Jack lets the chain fall slack in his hands and tries to catch his breath. “Yeah, Mac?”

“I don’t… I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

He’s right, but Jack pulls one more time for good measure. The force drags him to the ground again.

“Are you okay?”

Jack sighs. Mops his face with his sleeve. “Yeah. I mean, everything hurts. But yeah. I’m fine. You?”

Mac doesn’t reply right away, and Jack doesn’t miss the way he braces his side as he sits up. “Fine.”

(He’s not fine.)

“Sorry, man,” Jack laments. “These chains are a lot stronger than they look.” And that’s saying something. The chains already look strong as hell.

“Jack.”

He looks up. Mac is holding up a little red knife. The little red knife. Mac’s second greatest weapon.

“They took our belts, they took our socks, they took our shoes; why would they leave you that?”

“It doesn’t make any sense. Whoever did this, if they wanted us dead, could’ve shot us. If they wanted intel, they could’ve chained us to a chair and interrogated us, not have us shackled in whatever the hell this place is.”

“You know what this reminds me of? That movie. Saw. Remember that one? At any time, I feel like that creepy clown’s gonna come riding in here on a tricycle and ask us if we wanna play a game.”

Mac entertains his rambling, shrugging. “Probably not, but I say we get out of here before we find out.”

Jack moves to the door but, unsurprisingly, is stopped inches from it. He lifts his shackled foot, trying to give himself as much distance as possible, but he’s still too far away. “Mac, wanna try?”

Mac pales. Jack, an expert at MacGyver Facial Expressions at this point, instantly knows what he’s thinking:

No, Jack. I really don’t want to try, because I’m hiding something from you.

“What?” Jack walks back to Mac, crouching beside him. “What’s your deal? You’re hurt, right? Whoever hit us, they came from the passenger side… I think. You got full impact.”

Mac watches him, now very obviously trying to sit still. “I’ll be okay.”

“Pft. Mac, bud, we’ve been over this. Seven and a half years of this. And for the first six months, I wanted to kill you for it. Now tell me what’s wrong or so help me, I’ll steal all the beers from your fridge for a month.”

“You already do that.”

“Then I won’t do it for a month. C’mon, man. We’re probably gonna be stuck here for a while. Just tell me now, or I’ll bug you about it the whole time we’re locked in here.”

Mac sighs. “I’m… I don’t know. Maybe I bruised a rib or something. It’s not a big deal.”

“You got a C-minus in biology,” Jack argues. “I never got a C-minus in biology-”

“Because you never took it-”

“-because I didn’t need it. Clearly, I already knew everything, and you only knew a C-minus-worth, so therefore, I have more knowledge and am more qualified to assign severity to medical concerns.”

“You know nothing about medicine.”

“More than you. Come on. Let me see.”

Another heavy sigh. Mac gingerly lifts the bottom of his shirt, and-

“Yeah, Mr. C-Minus. That’s definitely a big deal.”

Jack tracks the bruising along Mac’s ribs and across his stomach. It looks bad. Really bad.

“What if you have a collapsed lung or whatever?” Jack worries. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Pocket knife. Incision anterior to the mid-axillary line, fourth intercostal space. That’ll release intrapleural pressure on the lung.”

Jack blinks. Blinks again. “... I’m not doing that.”

“What are you supposed to do then, Jack?”

“I don’t know! And I do not appreciate the sass right now! We are locked in a Saw trap, and you’ve probably got internal bleeding, and my head is pounding, and I don’t need your attitude!”

Mac, in a surprising turn of events, shrinks back. Nods ever so slightly.

“Thank you,” Jack huffs. He still doesn’t know what to do, because in the army, they never taught Jack how to stop bleeding if it was internal. That’s something the medics did. Probably.

And suddenly Jack is on the ground, and Mac is looking down on him, brow furrowed.

“Jack?”

“‘m here.”

“You passed out. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Ah, how the tables have turned.”

“Jack.” Mac’s clearly not in the mood.

Slowly, Jack pushes himself up, falling hard into a cross-legged position. “Head’s kinda wonky.”

“Concussion?”

“Yup.”

“Bad?”

“Um… TBD.”

“Right. Well. Can’t do much in here.” The more mobile of the two for the moment, Mac levers himself up, one hand on the wall for support. “I’m gonna see what else we have to work with.”

“Sure. Be there in a minute.” Because Jack really does need a minute. The world is still swaying dangerously. He closes his eyes, allows himself three full breaths, and then looks up.

And what he sees floods his chest with ice.

“Mac,” Jack calls. “Mac! Get over here!”

Slowly, painfully, Mac wanders over. “Jack, what’s-?”

Jack shushes him. “Check the vent behind me,” he whispers.

Mac frowns but looks up. His expression is unmoved, even as he spots the telltale red light of a security camera. “Huh.”

“‘Huh?’ That’s all you got?” Jack whisper-shouts. “There’s some sick freak watching us right now, and that’s your solution? ‘Huh?’”

“I just got t-boned by a full-sized SUV,” Mac argues back. “Gimme a break.”

Jack sighs. If Mac can’t fix this, then Jack will. He climbs to his feet and turns to the vent. “Hey!” he shouts at it. “Whosever’s watching, ha, ha, we get it! Very funny! Joke’s on us! I tell you what? Come in here, and we’ll have a little chat, okay? We can work this out like adults. This is ridiculous!”

“So glad we discussed this plan first,” Mac remarks.

“We did discuss the plan, man! You said ‘huh,’ and I had no choice!”

“You had so many choices before screaming at our kidnapper.”

Jack throws his hands in the air. “I can’t win today. Wasn’t it worth a try?”

“No.”

Rather than argue, Jack mopes around the room, kicking dirty boxes and abandoned backpacks as he goes. But then he kicks something, and the contents spill on the floor. Jack jumps back.

“Oh, gross! Why would someone keep that in an open container??”

Mac shuffles over and plucks one of the spilled items from the floor. “Sago worms?”

“Dude, I can’t believe you’re even touching that.”

“These are a delicacy in Indonesia,” Mac notes. “So we’re in Indonesia?”

“No.” Jack looks around, trying to place the room around them. “I think this is a fallout bunker.”

“So we’re still in the US.” Mac glances at the room too, and seemingly agreeing, frowns at the sago worm. “Why bother with the worms then? You can’t just buy these at Walmart.”

But then the light flicks on in Mac’s brain. “Wait,” he says. “You don’t think this is about Jakarta, do you?”

Ah. Jakarta. Mac’s first DXS mission. It went great… until it didn’t.

“You know?” Mac muses. “We never caught Samrozi.”

“So you think ol’ Sammy’s tryna get back revenge? Seven years later?”

And then Mac backs off the idea. “I mean, worms aren’t exactly incriminating evidence…”

But Jack thinks this theory has potential. “Hey!” he shouts at the camera. “Samrozi? This is enough. Come out from behind the camera and face us. Be a man. Don’t be a coward. This is stupid.”

“Hey.” Mac is muttering in his ear again.

“I got this,” Jack insists, turning to Mac. But the kid’s got this look in his eyes. That look that he gets when he has an idea.

“I know,” Mac whispers conspiratorially. “Just… do it closer to the lens.”

He definitely has a plan.

“Got it,” Jack agrees. Then he continues to yell at the camera, getting as close and being as annoying as humanly possible. He rants for ages, not even listening to himself half the time. He doesn’t stop talking until Mac calls him over.

“What’re you cooking there, Mac?”

Mac puts both of their chains over an open can. “Homebrew thermite.”

“And it’ll burn through chains. Let’s do it!”

“And maybe our feet,” Mac adds, while adding the final components to his mixture.

“Our feet?” Suddenly Jack thinks Mac may not have planned this one out too well. Internal bleeding can make you loopy, can’t it? “How’re we gonna run outta here without our feet?”

It’s too late. A small explosion blows out of the can, and the chainlinks over it turn bright red. Mac and Jack quickly tear the chains apart while they’re still hot.

Free at last.

And then all the lights go out. Jack can’t see for the life of him, but he can hear a door creaking and… Is that hissing?

“That does not sound good.”

Suddenly, Jack’s eyes and nose begin to sting. His chest tightens, and he coughs hard as the air is sucked from his lungs. He can hear Mac coughing too and-

Uh oh. That sounds like puking. So this is probably tear gas they’re inhaling.

Even with his senses overwhelmed, Jack can still hear Samrozi coming. He moves to sock the jerk in his stupid face, but then his every muscle seizes as fiery pain arcs through his body. Something thwacks him on his already pounding head, and he goes down like a sandbag.

As consciousness escapes him, Jack hears four words, repeated over and over:

“One lives, one dies.”

---

“-ack. Jack. Jack.”

Jack blinks awake, cringing against the searing lights above him. “Ugh. What the hell-”

“Thank god.” Mac blows out a breath, one arm still guarding his stomach.

“What happened?” Jack sits up slowly, waiting for the stars to clear from his vision. “Was that-?”

“Tear gas,” Mac confirms. “And a taser. I think.”

There’s a metal box sitting in the middle of the room. Jack frowns and points at it. “That new?”

“He threw it in while he was gassing us.”

“Well, what is it?” Jack reaches over to answer his own question. He pops the lid, and his heart skips a beat.

One gun. One bullet.

“‘One lives, one dies,’” Jack repeats. “What, he expects one of us to shoot the other?”

Mac fiddles with the hem of his sleeve, refusing to look at Jack.

“That’s ridiculous,” Jack insists. “Why the hell would we do that?”

There’s a sharp breath. Mac looks up, eyes piercing. “How long d’you think we’ve been in here?”

“Um, I dunno.” He feels his stubble, trying to assess the time exactly. “Thirty… thirty-six hours?”

“And we haven’t had food or water. You just got a thirty-second nap, but I haven’t slept since we got here. Think there’s a reason it’s so hot and bright down here?”

“To keep us awake. I went through this in SERE training.”

“And if we go long enough without water or food or sleep, we’ll start hallucinating.”

Jack’s stomach drops. “And he thinks if we go crazy, one of us will kill the other.”

“The odds aren’t terrible.”

Jack growls and whips the metal can at the vent. “Never gonna happen, Sammy!”

“I…” Mac grits his teeth. Winces. “I don’t think Samrozi is behind this.”

“But what about the worms? Jakarta?”

“No, I agree. This is about Jakarta.” He looks around the room. “All of… this. This is straight out of the CIA enhanced interrogation playbook. Do you remember after the cafe?”

“When we found Waller wailing on our perp.” Jack nods, though he’s not sure he gets the line of reasoning.

“Our after-action report was what kicked off the inquiry that got Waller booted from the CIA.”

But it feels… off. “I agree that Waller became… unhinged on that op. But if this is revenge, why now? Why this? I don’t get it.” His head is pounding, and all these crazy, confusing bad-guy plotlines are only further scrambling his brain.

“Not…” Mac grunts, pushing himself up off the ground and hobbling over to the door. “Not sure.” He stares at the ceiling, then the walls, then the door again. “Hey, maybe we could… maybe we could use the electrical… elec-”

And then he collapses on the spot.

“Mac!” Jack gets up as quickly as his head will allow him. (It’s so much slower than he wants to be. He wants to move now.) “Mac, wake up!” He falls on the floor beside Mac and jars his shoulder.

With all the speed of a bloated sloth, Mac nudges his eyes half-open. “... Jack?”

“What’re you doing, hoss?” Jack tries to keep positive, but he can feel his hope fading. “Why’re you on the floor?” He doubts he’ll like the answer, but he needs to ask anyway.

“Prob… probably internal… bleeding.”

Yeah. Jack definitely doesn’t like that.

“Okay. Okay, that’s okay. I can get us out of here. I can-” As he tries to stand, his head starts spinning, and he falls on his knees. His world is on a tilt-a-whirl, thoughts getting muddier with every passing minute. He closes his eyes, thinking that will calm the mother of all migraines in his skull. It does not.

“One lives, one dies!” The voice is new. Mechanical and warped. And maybe a bit staticky, like it’s coming from an old stereo. “That’s the only way to open the door.”

Screw that. Jack shakes Mac again. “Stay awake, buddy,” he urges. “C’mon, we can’t kick Waller’s butt if we don’t get through the door.”

Mac looks Jack dead in the eye, voice slurred and weak but with a gaze sharp enough to cut glass. “One lives, one dies.”

“Oh, no. Uh, uh. Not happening.”

“Jack, we-” Mac grimaces. “We’re both gonna die if we don’t.”

“What’s with that quitter talk?” But Jack’s vision is getting blurry, and even keeping his eyes open is making him nauseous. “We’re not doing that.”

“Jack, ’m dying. Right now.”

“Like hell you are.”

“I don’t… I don’t think you get a… a say.”

“Like hell I don’t.”

With every ounce of nerve that Jack has, he turns back at the camera. “Waller! Or whoever the hell you are! Come out, or I swear, I’ll make you wear your colon like a necklace! I’ll… I’ll skin your feet and make you walk through acid! Don’t try me, man!”

“Jack…”

He looks down so quickly that he’s swallowing back bile. “I’m here, Mac. I’m here.”

“Waller wasn’ in on th’... on the joke.”

And it takes Jack a long second to figure out what he’s saying. “You mean he didn’t know about the worms? But he did. He was on comms.”

“He didn’t think it was funny.”

“Yeah, neither did I. What’s your-?”

And then he sees it.

“Oh,” Jack breathes. “He told us to shut up when we were talking about it. I doubt he was even listening. He probably wouldn’t think to set out worms… would he?”

“Griggs and Hadley thought it… it was hysterical.” Mac’s shifting uncomfortably now, curling in on himself.

“Griggs and Hadley are dead, Mac.”

Mac coughs hard into his fist. Jack tries to ignore the bright red on Mac’s hand.

“Presumed dead,” Mac corrects. “By Waller.”

Waller clearly wasn’t the most reliable source. But Jack wouldn’t think he’d ever lie about something like that.

“Okay, maybe you’re hallucinating,” Jack reasons. “You’re telling me a couple dead guys kidnapped us.”

“Maybe.” He’s getting tired. Jack can see it in the way his eyelids droop. In how his fingers have stopped twitching.

“Mac, I don’t… I don’t know what to do. I’m not going to shoot you.”

“You… You could.”

“I-”

“Listen.”

And Jack listens. He listens and he plots and he tries his best to sort out exactly what kind of crazy plan Mac is rambling on about. He tries his best to follow through with the plan. Does every step down to the detail and tries to ignore how Mac keeps retching and coughing and fading.

Until Jack can’t ignore it anymore.

“Mac, please. Wake up.”

But Mac is falling out of reach. Jack isn’t sure if Mac can even hear him.

“Mac. Mac! Mac!” He does a sternal rub and shakes Mac’s shoulders and begs him - screams at him - to open his damn eyes.

But it’s too late. Jack is frozen, staring at the hopelessly pale face of his partner, lips covered in blood and eyes closed for the last time. He isn’t sure how long he watches, heart slamming against his ribs.

“You win,” Jack finally croaks. “One lives, one dies. Mac is dead. So would you… Would you open the damn door?”

But the door doesn’t creak open. Instead, the voice speaks from the ceiling.

“Shoot him.”

Jack shakes his head. “Wh-? What? He’s dead! Just let me go!”

“I don’t believe you.”

Jack closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. God. He’s really going to have to do this, isn’t he?

“Okay,” he concedes. “Fine.” With hands too steady for someone on hour forty without food, Jack picks up the gun. He doesn’t stand up - his head might explode if he even tries - and shoots without another thought. Blood instantly blooms from his shirt.

“There,” he says, voice cracking. “I did the damn thing. Now let me out.”

For one long minute, nothing happens. Jack sits on the floor. Mac bleeds. Jack grips Mac’s hand. Mac doesn’t grip back. “I’m so sorry, brother. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The door groans. Jack jumps, and it makes his vision extra blurry.

“Well, Dalton. I never thought it’d be you.”

Jack has to wait a moment to see who it is. And then Jack realizes that Mac was right.

“Griggs. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Dead?” Griggs scowls, gun aimed threateningly at Jack. “Is that what you told yourself so you could sleep at night? That me and Hadley died in the explosion?”

“Waller told us-”

“You left us,” Griggs hisses, crouching so he’s at eye-level with Jack. “We were wounded and captured by Samrozi’s men. They kept us in a cell. Starved us. Kept us awake for days on end. We were tortured for intel on the agency for years.”

Jack should feel guilty. But all he feels is rage.

“And then, six years after we were captured, Samrozi gave us an out.”

“‘One lives, one dies.’”

Griggs looks at Jack like he’s a dead rat. “I thought I’d never do it. But I broke. I killed my best friend. Just to live.” He stands, glaring down at Jack. “And if MacGyver was playing dead - which I’m sure he was - you just killed your best friend too.”

“So what now?”

“Now? Now, I kill you.”

POW!

Griggs stumbles, hands grabbing his side. Blood coats his fingers, and he collapses in a heap.

Jack takes the gun from Griggs’s hand and sighs, relief flooding him. “Cutting it a little close there, Mac. For a second, I thought you might have actually died.”

“Still might,” Mac mumbles, laying back down and tossing the homemade zip gun to the side.

“I know,” Jack grumbles, digging through Griggs’s pockets for a phone. “Don’t worry, bud. Your big brain got us through that, so I can get us out of this.”

Mac hums. “Usin’... Usin’ the empty shell as a… blank was your… your idea.”

“Yeah, but you were the one who made that blood bag.” Jack recoils at the thought, knowing far too much about the blood staining Mac’s shirt. “I know you couldn’t spare any blood, but I could’ve bled into the bag for you. We didn’t have to use vomit blood.”

“You could… have hepatitis.”

Jack ignores him for a moment, interrupted by a voice over the phone. “Who is this?” Matty growls.

“Jack Dalton. Code A43-8. I need a medevac to… um… the location of this cell. Can Riley get that?”

“Stay on the line.”

Jack covers the receiver. “Hepatitis?” he whispers. “Seriously?”

Mac does not look apologetic.

“Okay,” Matty says. “We’ve got you. Medevac will be there in ten. And then, I want to hear just what the hell happened on this ‘manniversary’ trip that ended in an emergency exfil.”

“Can’t wait.”

(He can wait.)

[whumperofworlds]

I'll Always Be Here

Now on AO3!

Fandom: Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles (OC centric)

A/N: Not too whumpy, but I feel this still applies on this blog LOL. I mean, nightmares suck right? Better give it to my sweet poor guy! Also, it's Gulru and Rae's debut on this blog!!! I loved these two, and it's been a while since I wrote them so. Yeah!

I only own Rae and Gulru. Everything else belongs to Square Enix.

CWS: Nightmares, crying, romantic Caretaker x Whumpee, male whumpee, referenced death, referenced kidnapping, referenced slavery, tied up, food mention

ENJOY!

_____

I'll Always Be Here

He couldn't move.

The Thundara spell had paralyzed Gulru, preventing him from moving his body. The electricity sparked around him, and if he moved a muscle, the spell did its work, shocking him slightly. His breathing grew heavy and quickly, as he tried to breathe to no avail thanks to the panic attack rearing its head.

In front of him was Jack Moschet, grinning wide and with hatred filling his eyes, his arms crossed as he watched Gulru struggle. Behind Jack was Gulru's dear Rae, tied to the large, broken pillar, his hands wrenched behind his back. The Clavat's eyes were wide with fear and guilt, as he watched Gulru struggle to stand.

It hit Gulru then. Gulru tried to rescue Rae from Jack's clutches, but he too was caught. Rae was bait for Gulru, and the Yuke fell for the trap, hook, line, and sinker.

"Stupid bird," Jack mocked. "Don't you realize what you've done?"

Gulru flinched at Jack's voice, wanting to scoot away, but due to the paralysis, he couldn't. He whimpered, wanting to get far away from his former master as soon as possible. He needed to get away. He needed to save Rae.

"P-please…" Gulru stuttered, "Let Rae go! Y-you got me, just let him go, please!"

"And let him come after me once I'm through with you?" Jack laughed. "Ha! You're so stupid as always, boy!"

Tears began to fall down from the eyes of his helm, as Gulru whimpered and sniffled. This couldn't be happening. All he wanted was Rae back. But because of his foolishness, he'd never see Rae again. And it was all his fault.

"For what you've done to me," Jack growled, raising his gigantic hand. His claws shone in the sunlight that peeked over the broken roof of Moschet's Mansion. "I'll kill you right here!"

"NO!" Gulru could hear Rae scream out from behind Jack. Rae strained and struggled against his bonds, as tears fell down his face. He sobbed before he begged, "Don't kill him, please! Gulru! GULRU!"

Gulru shook his head, as more tears continued to flow down his helm. No. No no no. This couldn't be happening. He didn't want to die like this. Not when Rae was in danger. Not when he had just tasted freedom for the first time. Not like this.

Jack's claws flew down, aiming straight for Gulru's neck—

_____

Gulru gasped as he sat up, sweat beading down his helm. If he had eyes, they would be wide as saucers right now. His heart pounded, as he breathed heavily from the nightmare he had.

Wait… nightmare?

Gulru glanced at his surroundings. It was mostly dark, but he could still see where he was. He was in the tent that the caravanners set up for the night, with everyone still asleep in their sleeping bags. Beside him, also sleeping in a sleeping bag, was Rae, alive and safe.

Alive and safe…

Gulru placed a wing to his chest, trying to calm himself down from the nightmare he had. Tomorrow was another day of collecting myrrh—he needed to sleep. But his racing heart wouldn't calm down. He tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself, something that Rae had taught him whenever he got scared or nervous. But his racing heart continued to pound in his chest. He sighed.

He wasn't going to get any sleep at this rate. He needed some fresh air.

He carefully crawled out of his own sleeping bag, not wanting to wake the others. He didn't want to wake them over something so trivial as a nightmare, so it would be best to let them rest. His eyes adjusted to the dark then, as he carefully stepped over his comrades until he reached the entrance of the tent. Quietly unzipping the flap, he left the tent before zipping it back up; he didn't want to let the breeze wake his friends up.

He sighed, before turning to the remains of the campfire. Smoke rose from the gathered burnt wood, with small embers stuck to their tips. He looked ahead to see the carriage, the Paopamous also asleep. The carriage was the same as it was—at least the Striped Bandits hadn't found them here and tried to steal from the carriage.

He sat on one of the logs that were around the small campfire, watching the embers and black smoke slowly rise from the remains. His mind tried to focus, to focus away from the terrible nightmare he had. But every time he tried to think of something else, that nightmare came back. How Jack had attempted to kill him. Right in front of Rae, no less. And Rae… seeing Rae scared broke his heart. He always boasted how he was brave and would never back down. But at that moment, seeing Rae crying and fearful for Gulru's life scared the Yuke more than anything else.

And it was all Gulru's doing. He was caught because he was reckless trying to rescue Rae. And now not only was Gulru traumatized from that ordeal, Rae was as well.

"Because of you."

Jack's words to him before he attempted to kill Gulru echoed in his head.

"Because of you."

It kept repeating in his mind. Gulru held his helm with his wings, trying to shut out his former master's voice.

"Because of you. Because of you. Because of you."

It had been a year since Jack was killed after that incident. Why was his voice still haunting Gulru? Why?

Tears began to form in the eyes of his helm, as he sniffled. His body shook, as the voice continued to blame him for what had happened.

He tried to hold in a sob, but he failed to, as he held his face in his wings. His crying was muffled, careful not to be too loud as he continued to cry. The nightmare repeated itself in his mind, as he cried and cried.

"Gulru?"

Gulru stopped suddenly; he would have widened his eyes in surprise and shock if he had them. With trembling wings, he removed them from his wet helm before turning his head.

Peeking out from behind the flap of the tent was Rae, a small frown on his face. Upon seeing how wet his boyfriend's helm was, his eyes widened. He left the tent fully then, turning for a moment to zip the flap up, before he turned back to Gulru.

"R-Rae?" Gulru questioned, his helm red in embarrassment. Oh Cosmos, did he hear him cry? "D-did I wake you? I'm sorry, I didn't m-mean to—"

"No, it's okay," Rae whispered, "you didn't wake me up, I promise. I noticed you were gone and I had to check up on you." The Clavat studied Gulru's helm, to which Gulru looked away shyly. He didn't want Rae to see that he was crying over a dumb nightmare. "...You're crying."

Gulru shook his head, as if denying that he was crying. "I-I was… it's—"

"Oh Gul," Rae said with a voice full of sympathy and worry. He walked towards the log Gulru was sitting in before joining the Yuke. He took Gulru's wing, gently squeezing it; it was Rae's way of telling Gulru that everything was okay, that he was safe. "What happened? Who made you cry?"

Gulru frantically shook his head at the last question. He knew how protective Rae was to Gulru; he never forgot the one time a Selkie had yelled at Gulru to the point of tears, and Rae threatened the Selkie to apologize to the Yuke. It nearly got the group kicked out of the town due to Rae's actions.

"N-no one did," Gulru finally said after a few seconds. "I…" He paused, unsure if he should say what had happened. Would Rae be annoyed or laugh at him over his problem? It was so trivial—nightmares had happened to Gulru before, and they never bothered him as much as this one.

But feeling Rae's warm hand and his worried expression pushed Gulru to at least tell him. Rae never judged him during the few years they knew each other. He wouldn't judge him over something like this.

"I-I had a nightmare," Gulru sighed, tears beginning to form in his eye holes again.

Rae only nodded, squeezing Gulru's wing. A cue to keep going.

"Jack… he kidnapped you," Gulru continued, his voice slowly cracking, "a-and I tried to save you, but he caught me… and he killed me. You were tied up a-and you couldn't do anything… I was scared, you were scared, and I-I…" He couldn't hold the tears any longer, as he buried his face with his free wing and began to sob.

Rae's frown intensified, scooting closer to Gulru. He released his hold on Gulru's other wing, before wrapping an arm around the trembling Yuke.

"Hey…" Rae soothed, "it's okay. It's just a nightmare. We're both safe."

"B-but," Gulru hiccupped, sniffling as he tried to wipe away the tears. They kept coming, however. "It was all my fault. If I-I had paid more attention, you wouldn't have gotten kidnapped and hurt. None of that would have happened if I wasn't s-so stupid—"

"Gulru," Rae piped up firmly, shocking the Yuke. Gulru turned to see Rae's face, noticing the narrowed eyes. He wanted to scoot away, feeling that he made Rae angry at him, but Rae held firm. "Don't ever call yourself stupid again."

"...What?" Gulru whimpered.

"It hurts me to see you depreciate yourself, Gul," Rae continued, his narrowed eyes changing into concerned ones. "You didn't do anything. Jack is the one at fault in all of that, not you. And even if you are at fault, you fixed it by coming for me. You even killed Jack by yourself." He leaned on Gulru, his head on the Yuke's shoulder. "You saved me, Gulru. And I'm alive. You're alive. We're both safe. You're my hero that day, and even now."

Gulru sniffled, the tears finally stopping. He wiped away a stray tear that fell, before he asked, "Y-you think so?"

"I know so, Gul," Rae confirmed. "You're brave, and strong in your magic… you're definitely a hero to me."

"...Rae," Gulru whispered, reaching out to hold Rae's hand again. The Clavat took it, squeezing his wing. "I-I'm sorry that I made you worry."

"It's okay," Rae whispered back, a small smile on his face. "Just know that I'll always be here. Always."

"And the same goes to you too, dear," Gulru chuckled, scooting closer to his beloved. If he had a mouth, he would be smiling. Smiling that he was lucky to have a boyfriend like Rae.

At the corner of Gulru's eye, he spotted a small bright light shining from across the hill. He gasped, seeing the sun slowly rising from behind the hill. The sun's rays shone, its light brightening up the dirt roads and the trees, giving them more color. It was beautiful; it shone just like the giant crystal that Gulru had seen in Tipa. How long were they sitting here, talking it out? Gulru wasn't sure. But he didn't mind at all.

"Wow," Rae piped up in awe, his eyes sparkling. "It's been a while since I saw the sunrise. This is beautiful!"

"I-it is," Gulru agreed. Despite seeing it many times, Gulru never took the sunrise for granted; after over a decade as Jack's slave, he missed the little things such as this.

The two watched the sunrise together, cuddled up to each other and enjoyed the view. It wasn't until a few hours later did the two heard stirring in the tent nearby.

Rae reluctantly released his hold on Gulru before standing, much to the Yuke's disappointment. But he understood why; it was another day of collecting myrrh.

"I gotta go make some breakfast," Rae said, stretching his arms up with a sigh.

"I-I can help," Gulru offered, also standing. "I got enough ingredients to make some apple fritters."

Rae smiled at his beloved, nodding to accept his offer. "Sounds great! Thanks, Gully."

Gully… another nickname. That's so cute.

The two began their work on breakfast, their bond stronger than ever after that night.

[pxppet]

Rings

A short thing about my Jameson and Anti, in which Anti gifts Jameson signs of his ownership.

[CW for blood, possessive relationship, abusive husband, mentions of rot and maggots]

▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸

Gentle whirring fills the room, deafening to him, as the machine’s needle traces bee sting lines into Jameson’s throat. He is sitting still. Patient. Still. As Anti told him to. Or else, or else. But he can’t stop the tears pricking his eyes or the slight heaving of his chest as his master works. He has his eyes closed, but he can feel Anti staring at him, eating him up and making him feel like squirming.

“Still,” Anti’s voice comes, a single word command that freezes Jameson into a statue. “We’re almost done, sweetheart. Look at me, hey.”

JJ opens his eyes, allowing a tear to escape and slide down his cheek. Anti’s thumb moves upward and brushes it away, the overgrown nails of his host body dangerously close to his eye. Jameson does not flinch. “What are you drawing?” JJ dares to question. Thankfully, Anti just smiles at him, his eyes fading from black into more human-like green ones as he regards his husband.

“It’s my mark, Bluejay.” His hand rests very lightly on the half-done circle he’s tracing around Jameson’s neck with the tattoo gun. “My blood is in it. It binds you to me.” Anti smiles, his face subtly shapeshifting with his glamor and becoming softer with healthy round cheeks, shining curly hair and a boyish smile. “Forever.”

JJ smiles at him, or tries to anyway. His lip is trembling slightly from the pain. “Thank you, Anti,” he signs, A-husband, A-knife, as his name goes.

“No need to thank me, pet,” he coos, grabbing his chin and wiggling his head back and forth. “Though I do have something for you, once we’re done.”

Jameson perks up with curiosity, but then the tattoo gun is moving back to his skin, right over his jugular, which makes him hiss air through his teeth with pain. It touches down, lifts, touches down, lifts, in a circular pattern. JJ wonders what it will be. Anti had spent quite a bit more time on the back of his neck, but JJ counts his blessings that the front is seemingly quicker.

Eventually, Anti hums with satisfaction and sets down the gun. He wipes the new markings clean, clearing the excess ink and spots of blood. “Want to see, Jay?” Jameson nods, hesitant. His hand flexes in the handcuff Anti attached to the table, just in case – even though JJ would never run. Anti holds a mirror up to him. Jameson observes a dotted line circling his entire neck that leads to a smaller circle wrapping around his adam’s apple.

“This is on the back,” Anti says, drawing a piece of paper into his view, “My symbol. My name.” His voice is soft, distant, as though his thoughts are elsewhere. The symbol is a rather complex seeming sigil that makes no sense to JJ. Anti grins at Jameson with a mouth of dog’s teeth, touching his collarbone. He touches Anti’s hand, shaking minutely. “What do we say?”

“Thank you,” JJ offers him the simple sign shyly.

“That’s a good boy. Would you like your gift now?”

JJ nods, nervousness overridden by curiosity for now. Anti reaches into the back pocket of his black jeans, fishing around with a curse. Pulling out a small black box, he turns back to him, a certain light filling his face. Jameson tries not to so obviously bask in his husband’s rare good mood. “Jameson, lover and light of mine,” he purrs, “Pet and husband. Mine.” He pulls open the box, revealing a small gold ring, a simple band with only a single small sapphire implanted into the band. Jameson feels his mouth fall open faintly, staring at it with widened eyes.

Anti’s fingers come up and tap his mouth shut, laughing. “What, did you think I’d never propose properly? Just because you were given to me already mine doesn’t mean I can’t treat you to something nice.” Anti feels his appearance shift, Henrik’s sharp face, Marvin’s full beard, Chase’s freckles and doe eyes all filled in with black, and Jameson’s own curled hair, dark and highlighted with silver by the sunlight from the window – he is terrifying and beautiful, and he knows it.

JJ takes him in very obviously, his eyes beginning to water as he leans forward against Anti’s chest, overwhelmed. He’s not treated to gifts very often, and it makes him sheepish and distant with embarrassment. “Thank you, A-husband. Thank you.” He signs shakily against Anti’s chest. Anti taps his chin and chest, pulls the hands away softly. “Love, cherish, love,” he promises to him. JJ cannot sign it back because of his cuffed hand, so he simply nuzzles at Anti’s neck in appreciation.  

Anti picks up Jamie’s free hand, regarding the thick keloid in the center from when he put a knife through it, and all the minute scars around it. His beautiful handiwork. He kisses the scar, and then slips the wedding band onto his ring finger. “To have and to hold, ‘til death do us part. You are mine to treasure until the day I kill you.”

Jameson nods in agreement, examining the band with wide eyes. It’s so beautiful – a blue stone for Anti’s bluejay. He runs his thumbs over it, loving. But there’s a subtle sickness in his guts at those words, "‘til death." Anti has already promised to him that the day Jameson dies, it will be because Anti decided it – he is not allowed to die on his own. And Jameson had promised in return to stay with him until that time comes. His gaze darkens with bitterness for a moment, like maggots crawling in his stomach. He shivers and he thumbs the ring, his cuffed hand clenching on itself as Anti moves around putting things away.

Jameson can practically already feel the rolling of worms beneath his flesh – he will be a dead thing on Anti’s floor one day. As Anti comes to kiss his forehead and lead him to their bed with promises of consummation, Jameson feels like he might already be that dead, rotten thing, being eaten away on his husbands floor.

[thecareandkeepingofwhumpees]

Content warning: nightmares, blood, and scars (not from s/h). Please ask if you need any added.

There was red. So much red. His red suit, skintight and made for maximum mobility, but serving to make him feel restrained and exposed. Red blood, drying on his knuckles and dripping from his nose. It wasn’t his, the red on his knuckles. He’d rather it had been. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, he didn't!

Jack jolted awake to sheets soaked with sweat, breathing heavily. It took a minute for him to realize where he was, and even longer for him to realize what had woken him up.

Xander was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him. “It’s alright, darling. You’re safe now. Can you name one thing that you’re touching?”

“The-the blanket?” Jack asked rather than said, still disoriented.

“Good. Can you tell me what color it is?”

“... Blue.” Blue, not red. Blue is good.

“Yes, and it’s soft too, isn’t it?”

“Mhm.” After a few seconds, when he felt more grounded, Jack asked, “Why are you here?”

“You were shouting in your sleep. I came to wake you up.”

“Oh… sorry.”

“What for, little one?”

Jack shrugged. “Being loud. Forcing you to help me.”

Xander let out a breath through his nose. “Are you okay with touch right now?” At Jack’s hesitant nod, he scooted back so he could lean comfortably against the headboard, and pulled him against his chest.

After a moment of silence, Xander spoke again. “First of all, the government has me classified as an A-tier villain with a risk level of 8. Honey, you couldn’t force me to do anything if you tried. I’m here comforting you because I want to be.”

Jack hid his face in Xander's shoulder. Xander could feel the warmth of his blush through his shirt.

“Secondly, you don’t belong to The Agency anymore. You don’t have to abide by their absurd rules. You are allowed to be scared, and you are allowed to show it.”

“Okay,” Jack mumbled. His wandering fingers found a scar he’d left on Xander during one of their initial altercations. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not anymore. I’ve given it time and taken good care of it, and now it’s healed.”

“But it’s not the same anymore. It left a scar,” Jack said, with the air of a child listening to a bedtime story.

“I like it better this way,” Xander laughed softly. “It’s kind of…" he tilted his head, "badass.”

Jack giggled and immediately yawned.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep? It is quite early, after all.” Xander asked.

“I will if you stay,” Jack bargained, with a confidence he would never have had were he not half asleep.

“Then stay I shall.”

[killacharacterbingo]

"Jack, there's a boat"

In the 1997 movie Titanic, main characters Jack and Rose fall in love aboard the titular ship hours before it sinks. Unable to get onto one of the lifeboats together for a plethora of reasons during the climax of the movie, and with Rose refusing to board one without Jack, the two have nothing to keep them afloat when the Titanic sinks.

They find a buoyant pannel among the debris in the water, but it's only large enough to fit one of them. Jack helps Rose onto it and makes her promise to survive, talking to her about the life she will have to keep her distracted while he freezes to death.

Rose is in a precarious state herself, considering the situation, and barely conscious. A lifeboat returns to look for survivors and, after spotting it, she tells Jack that a boat came back in this clip. It is then that she realizes he died a while ago and it was just his dead body clinging to the side of the pannel.

This prompt deals with sacrifices, from Jack's perspective; and with outliving loved ones who died for our characters to survive, from Rose's. Inspiration can also be drawn from being unaware another person is dead, a shipwreck, or so on. Any of the elements surrounding Jack's death (and, inextrinsicably, Rose's survival) are fair game under this prompt.

[rosetyler42]

Here's something slightly WIR-Verse I did back around the time I first watched Dark Revival dealing with @lovelylivelyv 's Jack Nephalem. Being Bendy's chaotic good son, I imagine Jack'd be a Cycle Breaker in either universe...and that Wilson would see the boy as a threat. The Ink Nephalem would be the perfect successor for the Ink Demon should he be cast out, after all.

So here's an idea if Toddler Hijack was part of the game, locked away in the Pit as Subject 1031 and Jumpscaring Audrey.

(Since all the others had subject numbers relating to their birthday Month and day- Aside from Henry's 414 - Jack's subject number is 1031 for Oct 31.)

@lovelylivelyv @black-ak9 @serial-serializednovelreader @hotelt-resurrection @deathfangirl9 @heartsong1994 @wingingfromthezing @inkiedraws @inkhyaena @inkspottie @inkwelldevil @howling-nightmare @thedopedemon @thedemonsurfer @thedobermutt

[whumpninja]

I have no idea why this is in my head today, but it is and here you go:

Whumpee falling asleep curled up like a cat on the rug in front of the fireplace.

[somedayonbroadway]

Pinned Down

Jack Kelly Whump Board

TW: Mentions of Rape/Non-Con, Kidnapping

Jack had been sleeping. It was peaceful, blissful even. Jack didn’t get much sleep anymore. Not here. Not in this place. Jack groaned as he felt his wrists gasped onto by large, calloused hands. He sucked in a breath, groaning and turning his head away as he tried to hold onto a precious nothingness. His hands curled into loose fists as he shifted beneath the weight on top of him. He groaned, panic gripping at him. The young man squeezed his eyes tight, weakly wriggling against the grip of the man on top of him.

The thin mattress beneath him dipped between his knees. Jack swallowed hard, forcing his eyes open. He wished he hadn’t. Those black eyes above him bore into him, a grin shining on his face, a terrible, awful one that shook Jack to his core. He looked away immediately, his eyes drifting to the closet. He could see the door rocking back and forth like someone was shoving against it. He could see finger reaching through the little slots.

Jack knew the position he was in, that he was trapped in a basement with a man on top of his nearly bare form. He swallowed hard, trying to growl, but all that left him was a whimper as tears formed in his eyes.

“Now, now, Jack, there’s no use getting desperate, now, is there?” the man on top of him cooed.

Jack looked back up at him, struggling a bit harder against his grip. But there was no denying that he was pinned down rather helplessly. “Please don’t do this again… not in front of him, I can still be useful to you,” Jack insisted.

“Don’t worry, pet. You are very useful to me,” the man growled.

The young man sniffled. It had all been so stupid. All of it was his fault, getting involved in the spider’s web. He’d just needed a little extra cash. His brother was in his care now, he just wanted a little more money to help them, they were barely eating, sleeping in the freezing cold. Jack had been careless. He’d snuck a few extra dollars every now and then. Just to buy his brother some new clothes. The boy was growing like crazy. Then to fix their plumbing. Then to get some extra treats. Just to try and be the parent that his kid deserved.

“Please, Mr. Snyder, I fucked up, I can fix it, I’ll fix it, just let us go, let him go, he’s seven years old, he’s scared, please—“ The hand around his neck shut him up quick, forcing Jack to focus on trying to get air into his lungs rather than begging. He reached up his free hand to claw at the one around his throat.

Snyder tutted at him, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “I don’t like it when my toys talk,” he whispered in Jack’s ear. He ran his hand down Jack’s chest, allowing the young man to gasp and fight for air and right as he was at the hem of Jack’s boxers, the only clothes he was still wearing, a scream came from the closet.

Jack’s gaze snapped over to the thing. He tried to kick the man off of him, but his ankles were still chained down to the cement floor. “Baby, close your eyes—!” he tried, but Snyder shoved him back down and punched him hard enough to make the room spin.

When Jack could get his brain working again, he could hear his baby brother screaming even more. He sat up just as his brother escaped from the grip of their captor and barreled into his chest. Jack whimpered, clinging to the boy. “I’m here, baby, I got you, I got you,” he whimpered as Snyder stalked up to them. “N-no! No, let him go back into the closet! Whatever you’re gonna do, don’t! Please! I’ll do anything!” Jack screamed, twisting around to try and shield the kid in his arms. “Please, please don’t hurt him, please, I’ll do anything…”

The old man walked over to them, yanking Jack’s hair back and kissing his cheek. “Let him go, pet—“

“No,” Jack said immediately. The boy clung to him, hiding his gaze in Jack’s chest. “He’s my kid. Please, let him go back into the closet, I w-won’t try to fight, j-just don’t make him watch this and don’t hurt him…”

Snyder grabbed the little boy’s arm and the kid started screaming bloody murder. “No! Jackie!”

“Racer!” Jack screamed as the child was yanked away from him.

Jack wailed. “Wait! Please!”

The old man took Race over to the middle of the room and strung his arms up above his head. Jack whimpered before Snyder climbed back on top of him, forcibly pinning him back down and flipping him onto his chest. “Don’t try to argue with me boy. You belong to me.”

“Fine! I’ll belong to you! Just let my baby go… please…” Jack whimpered. “Please…”

Snyder grinned.

“Jackie!” Race screamed.

“Please…” Jack tried desperately one more time, but it didn’t matter.

Once Snyder began having his way with him, there was no stopping it.

Jack knew this was his life now. And it was all his own damn fault.

[whumpasaurus101]

i NEED alicia pinning somebody up against a wall and just purring into their ear with a gloved hand wrapped around their neck as their face turns purple and their vision slowly fills with black spots and she's just laughing and drops them and kicks them when they're barely conscious mhm

...you know an ask is good when it pauses your scheming of starting a new story-. ive stared at this ask alot DHUIDKDHD SAY LESS ANON I GOTCHYUUUUUUUUUUU

The whump is a slow starter BUT I PROMISE THERE IS JUST STICK WITH ME HDUIHDKDH or just scroll to the end- you do you HUIDHD

Cw: Beating, alicia being a creepy bastard HUIJDHKD

---

Alicia smiled, looking adoringly with sparkling eyes as she looked Jack over, straightening his tie, “Just perfect,” She smiled, her velvet-red lips curving perfectly. Jack smiled, a light blush filling his face. Alicia brought her hand up, cupping Jack’s face as she brushed her thumb along his cheekbone, “Just perfect,” She hummed, smoothing Jack’s shirt down. 

Jack couldn't even hide his smile, he was so lucky he had Alicia. Alicia treated him so well, made him feel special! Alicia’s fingers gently carded through his hair, her finger gently dipping behind his ear as her maroon painted nail scratched his skin gently, just how Jack liked. Jack closed his eyes with a smile, leaning into the touch. 

Alicia chuckled, looking at her pet with a gentle smile, “My love,” She beamed. Suddenly there was a bang on the door, Alicia chuckled as Jack flinched, “It’s alright, baby, just Rodger.” Jack stiffened, watching Alicia fix her hair in the mirror, “Ro-Rodger’s coming?” Alicia hummed in response and Jack nodded, “I-Is Asher coming too, the-then?” 

Alicia chuckled, topping up her lipstick, “Oh that mutt? Nah, I think he pissed Rodger off too much- think he’s locked in his room for the night.” Jack gulped but nodded. Another bang on the door, this time louder but Alicia just rolled her eyes, taking Jack’s hand in hers before guiding them to the door.

“You know, normal people would use a doorbell, jackass.” 

Rodger smirked, “Well I guess I’m not normal, hm?”

Alicia rolled her eyes, walking past him and bringing both her and Jack to the car, “Far from.”

The car was.. practically a small limo. A driver sat in the front, eyes staring straight ahead with an earpiece in. Alicia opened the door and with a gentle hand on Jack’s back, she guided him inside the car. The back of the car was open. Three seats with a mini fridge either side of the row. Alicia sat at the furthest seat, bringing Jack to sit beside her as she gently played with his hair, whispering gentle words to relax Jack.

Rodger sighed, slumping down into his seat, “Dang, I need to get myself one of those.” Alicia smirked against Jack’s cheek, “Get what- a limo or a well-behaved pet.” Rodger almost choked on his water, laughing as he wiped his mouth, “Both.”

Jack scooched slightly closer to Alicia, catching Rodger’s attention and the car started moving, “You're lucky to have such a broken pet.” Jack flinched slightly, making Rodger’s grin grow even wider. Alicia just hummed, scratching behind Jack’s ear with her nail, “He’s an angel.” 

Roger rolled his eyes, chugging the rest of his water before throwing the bottle on the floor.

As Alicia and Rodger broke into conversation, Jack’s eyes didn't leave the bottle, he bit his lip before slowly bending down to pick it up. A tight grip on his wrist soon stopped him right before he could touch the bottle, “And just what are you doing?”

Jack yelped out quietly, his eyes slowly raising to Rodger’s, “I-I was just go-gonna pi-pick-” 

“And are you being paid to pick it up, hm?”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed as he gulped, “N- uhm no, si-sir…” Alicia chuckled, gently running her finger along Jack’s spine, “Oh come on, leave him alone, dude.” But Rodger’s burning eyes never left Jack’s. “You see, people actually are getting paid for cleaning up after me. And if they have nothing to clean and they’re taking my money? Then I’m being robbed.” Rodger’s second hand moved to grab Jack harshly by the chin and forced his face close to his, “And you don't want me to be robbed, do you?” 

Jack’s eyes widened, “NO! N-no, sir, no-not at all!”

“That’s what I fucking thought.” And with that, Rodger let go, leaning back in his chair with a chuckle. “You’re so mean,” Alicia giggled. “He makes it too fucking easy,” Rodger grinned.

Once they arrived at the restaurant, the three of them sat at a table. Jack was grateful to be allowed to sit at a chair this time. He didn't mind the floor but at places like this, people tend to stare. Alicia’s palm rested against Jack’s knee, she knew Rodger made Jack nervous which quite honestly humoured her.

“Rodgerrrrr!!!” Came an unrecognizable voice, “Shit man, it’s been ages, how have you been??? Rodger’s eyes widened as he grinned, standing up and doing a handshake with the other, “Quinn mc-fuckin-crae, how are you?” Alicia looked Rodger up and down for a moment before his eyes widened, “Shit- yeah, sorry, Alicia, this is Quinn. Him and I went to college together.” Alicia smirked and held out her hand, “A pleasure to meet you.”

Jack watched as Quinn’s eyes widened, smiling at the sight of Alicia. He gently took Alicia’s hand and to her surprise, he bent over and placed a kiss against her knuckles, the pleasure’s mine, darlin.” Jack had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Alicia’s smirk widened, “Care to join us?”

“Ah I-I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

“I insist!”

Rodger dragged a chair over and Quinn let out a sigh of content as he slumped in the seat, “Rodger, you didn’t tell me you had a missus,” he grinned, swatting Rodger playfully against his arm. Rodger’s eyes widened, “Nono! Hah, she’s not- we’re not- we’re just friends I swear.”

Quinn burst into laughter, “Alright mate, take it easy,” His eyes then roaming to Alicia, “That's good to know though.” Alicia’s eyes closed as she laughed, “Hmmm, I’m flattered.” Her hand trailed up to Jack’s hair as she gently traced circles in his hair. Quinn’s eyes flickered to Jack and he raised an eyebrow, “Any who might this be?” 

Alicia smirked, “My darling. His name is Jack, Jack, say hello,” She cooed. Jack gulped, blinking a few times before speaking, “G-good evening, sir.”

Quinn's eyes widened, his eyebrow slightly quirking up, “Well fuck me, if I hadn’t thought of getting one of them myself, I’m seriously considering it now.” Alicia smirked, her eyes falling to Rodger, “Yeah, he seems to have that affect on people.”

Half an hour later they were served their food, Jack looked down at his food, unsure how his stomach felt. He didn’t like the feel of Quinn. Not one bit. Alicia looked over at him and smiled, gently swirling a fork in Jack’s pasta. She gently cupped his chin, her thumb brushing along his skin gently as she brought the fork to his mouth. Jack smiled before slowly opening his mouth, letting Alicia feed him.

Alicia smiled gently, her nail gently scratching at Jack’s skin as he chewed. Quinn watched the admiration glimmering in Alicia’s eyes, he couldn't help the burning fire that roared in his chest. Jealousy. He knew it well. He shook his head and continued into his meal.

As time passed by, conversation continued. Jack listened as Alicia continued to feed him. Quinn’s English accent was thick, lacing each word. Jack’s eyes drifted closed, his mind at ease as he relaxed into Alicia’s touch. He felt eyes on him but ignored it for now- his focus only on Alicia, where it belonged. 

Alicia’s eyebrows furrowed as the back of her hand brushed against Jack’s face and she sat up slightly. Jack looked up at her as her hand brushed against his forehead, “Sweetheart…you’re burning up…”

Jack bit his lip anxiously, “‘m o-okay, I’m sorry there’s… there’s just a lot of people here and-and I-”

“Hey, baby, don't apologize, do you want to get some air?”

Jack nodded fast, blinking hard, “Ye-yes please, ma’am, tha-thank you s-s-so mu-”

“I can take him outside, no problem!”

Alicia paused for a moment, considering.

“Oh come on, I come here practically every week, I know my way around here!”

Alicia’s eyes squinted in thought but she nodded, “Alright, alright fine…” she raked a hand through Jack’s hair and smiled, before kissing him gently, “Feel better soon, baby.”

Quinn stood up quickly, rubbing his hands together before walking to Jack, “We’ll get you better, sprout, no problem.” Jack had a bad feeling about this from the start but his head was spinning and he needed air, quickly.

Quinn gently placed his hand against the small of Jack’s back, causing the other to shiver. “Nice and easy, sprout, we’ll get you out in just a second.”

He was led out a back door, practically stumbling over his feet. “Christ, you really are an anxious one, huh?” Quinn snickered. Jack just gulped hard as they continued walking. The second the door was open and the cold air met Jack’s face, he suddenly felt human again. He gasped and let out a shaky breath.

“There we go,” Quinn cooed, running his hand through Jack’s hair, gently rubbing circles against his scalp, “Deep breaths, sprout, good job.” Jack couldn’t help but lean into the touch, his breaths slowly calming, “Tha-thank you.. Mmthank you, sir.” He let out a final sigh, his lungs feeling full once more.

Quinn’s emerald green eyes shone in awe as he watched Jack close, gently brushing a strand of hair that rested over Jack’s eyes, “You're a pretty one,” he smirked. Jack blushed and looked away, “Can…can we go inside please…”

“Oh no darling, not quite yet,” Quinn practically purred against the shell of Jack’s ear, warm breath fanning over cold, pale skin. A whimper caught in Jack's throat as he tried to lean away, “I-I want to see Alicia… pl-pease…”

Jack flinched as Quinn chuckled, closing his eyes as he savoured this moment, “Christ, you're just perfect, aren't you? Begging before I even cut skin.” Jack’s eyes widened, “Nonono, do-don't hurt me… Ali-Alicia.. She- she’s-” A gasp escaped his throat as he felt the familiar feeling of a cold blade resting against his skin, a threat.

“Alicia’s not here though, is she?” Quinn smirked.

“Ohhhh, but she is.”

Jack’s eyes widened as he heard her voice. Alicia! It was Alicia!

Quinn spun around, quickly pocketing the knife, “Alicia! He just had a little itch, thought I would help him,” He smirked. Alicia stepped forward, arms crossed, “Let me set something straight for you, Quinn; I don't like people touching my things,” She hummed, making a show of putting on her leather gloves, “And that right there,” She smirked, jutting her chin at Jack, “Is my angel. And no one lays a finger on him unless allowed.” She had managed to back Quinn against the stonewall of the building, knife in her hand, her favourite knife. In a sudden, her hand shot out and she grabbed Quinn’s throat, slamming him hard against the wall as she leaned in close, this time whispering into Quinn’s ear, “I believe you have something to say…”

Quinn shuddered, his breath stuttering “I- I’m sorr-” 

“Ah ah ah,” Alicia’s hand squeezed tighter, making Quinn gasp, “Not to me, hun, to him.”

Quinn swallowed his pride before moving his eyes to Jack’s, “I-I’m sorry, Spr-” He coughed as Alicia’s grip grew tighter, “GUH- I-I’m sorry, s-sorry, Jack.”

Jack shrank back slightly dipping his head.

Alicia smirked, stroking her thumb gently against the side of Quinn’s neck, soaking in every heartbeat she felt against her thumb. Each thump like a scream- a cry for help. 

“Good boy,” She cooed, feeling the other shudder. She trailed the blade along each of Quinn’s ribs, relishing each short gasp, “Not so cocky now,” She smirked, slowly digging the knife in, “NH-” He cried out but Alicia’s hand squeezed his throat tighter. He couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, this is my favourite part,” Alicia murmured, “The pleading eyes. You look so weak right now, pathetic,” She spat but with a smile, “All control in my hands, your faith literally in my hands!” She giggled, “Oh, if you could see yourself right now…”

Quinn squeezed his eyes shut, his body shook as it desperately hunted for air. “Nonono, open your eyes, honey, I want to see you.” 

The blade slashed across his side and he choked out a scream, eyes bursting open. Alicia chuckled, “Muuuuch better. I’d say you’ve got another ten seconds before you fall unconscious at my feet,” She smirked as she felt him whimper.

“I’m only going to repeat myself once,” She whispered, causing the hairs at the back of Quinn’s neck to stand, “Never ever touch him unless I allow you to, am I understood?”

Black spots swam in Quinn’s eyes as he shook, slowly nodding. The pressure lifted and he dropped to the floor, choking on gasps as he coughed and spluttered, clawing at his throat for more air.

Alicia chuckled, “Fucking pathetic,” She drove her foot back before kicking Quinn once more- full force into his stomach, making the other cry out. She turned to Jack quickly, pocketing her gloves as she cupped his face, 

“Let’s get out of here, baby. I’m glad you're feeling better.”

---

THANKIE FOR READINGG <333

Taglist -lmk if you wanna be added or removed <<33- : @likeit-or-whumpit @milk-carton-whump @yesthisiswhump @appy-polly-loggies @happy-whumper @hold-back-on-the-comfort @tears-and-lilies @whumpkinpie @happy-little-sadist @scribbelle @whump-queen @whumpdreamz @thelazywitchphotographer

[clickerflight]

Clove: Epilogue

Author's Note: We are at the end. This is wild. I have a hard time finishing stories, and ages ago I started this and thought I would never finish it. But I came back to it and here we are. Here we are. If you have any questions about this story, anything more you want to know, please send me asks. I love everyone who read this, even if you didn't comment or reblog. Thank you.

Masterlist - Part 33

Content: Vampire whumpee, emotional angst, being immortal sucks sometimes, dead body/funeral

...............................................

The funeral took place on the perfect day. It was warm, but a pleasant breeze swept through the air, stirring everyone’s hair and clothing. The trees rustled warmly, as though telling everyone that it would be alright. 

And it would have to be. 

Margaret lay in the box in front of them, Josh leading the ceremony in her stead. He was officially the village’s witch, with his wife’s help. There were tears in his eyes as he recounted a tale of the old lady bashing his knuckles for putting herbs in the wrong place only to care for the scrape she caused herself. 

“She never really knew her own strength sometimes,” he sniffled. “Or maybe she did and she just didn’t care. She was a good witch, and I hope to fill her shoes one day in taking care of this village.”

Ephraim bowed his head where he sat on a front row next to Benny. Hyrum sat on his other side, his little Goldenrod, who just couldn’t sit still. One moment he’d lean on Ephraim, fidgeting with the old fashioned ruffle tie Ephraim wore, then he would sit up and pick at his crooked fingers, then he would bounce his legs wildly. 

The fourth time Ephraim had to pull Hyrum back up into his seat on the bench as he bent down to look at something in the grass (the church pews having been pulled out for the funeral since it was so nice outside) it hit him through his grief how much of a blessing Hyrum’s constant fidgeting was. 

He opened his eyes and looked at Margaret, lying peacefully in the box and remembered how still and deathly Hyrum himself had been. Ephraim had often wondered if he really was a werewolf, and now his boy, not so little as he’d started a new growth spurt, was acting like a true werewolf. Stir crazy in the sun. 

Benny, on the other hand, was as still as the stones that marked the small graveyard they sat beside. He had helped dig the hole his sister would be going into, dirt still crusted under his nails. He’d started growing his hair long again, and he was wearing something much more sensible, a long brown overcoat overtop a cream linen shirt and black trews. The muscles in his jaw tensed, and Ephraim knew that Benny was trying to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault that he missed so much time with Margie. Trying to convince himself that just getting this last year was a blessing. 

Ephraim knew that argument well. He would continue to lose friends and loved ones, even Hyrum one day, but he was used to that now. Benny would have to learn to come to terms with it as well. 

As Josh went to sit down, Ephraim stood. There was no order to the speeches and anyone could decide to talk if they chose. Ephraim wondered if Benny would. He doubted it, looking back at his fledgling.

Ephraim got up by the casket and looked down at Margie’s face, marveling at how much peace he saw there. How did Josh manage that? He’d always imagined she would look just as stern in death as she was in life. Josh had better not be messing about with dark magic. Again. The man was too curious for his own good. 

Ephraim shook his head and looked out across the crowd. Everyone in the village had come to pay respects, and everyone except for the children were willing to put up with the funeral all afternoon if there were so many speakers. 

In fact, he could see in their faces they were looking forward to Ephraim’s speech; he who knew the witch so well. 

He cleared his throat and said, “About a year and a half ago I attended another funeral. In the fae realm.”

He glanced at Halia and Kortops who sat leaning on one another, Josh and Anna sitting next to them with a child who looked like Dimitri when he was a baby in Anna’s arms. The young lad had finally passed away during the winter while Ephraim and Hyrum had been in the fae realms, and while he had been distressed to hear he had missed the child’s last few months, Halia and Kortops gave them another child to share between the four of them, and shaped by the love of his new human parents, he was growing up to look like Dimitri, if a bit stouter and taller, his eyes more wild and free. Kortops reached over to run a hand over his changeling’s head, Halia smiling as Anna cooed to the baby who was babbling happily. 

“That funeral,” Ephraim continued, “Was the most splendid thing I’d ever laid eyes upon. There was a procession, feasts, and even decorations and food made by magic. However, in all of it, I don’t think a single fae you picked out of the crowd would have been able to tell you the name of the fae who had died.”

There was silence, people almost leaning forward in their chairs. Ephraim barely talked about the fae realms and everyone was desperate to know more. 

“Here, however, I know every single one of you knew Margeret. Every one of you ate her food, had her medicine, knew how a scolding from her felt. Everyone here remembers and honors her memory, and that is more precious than any fae decoration, food, or procession.”

He stopped, feeling choked up before he said, “She was a wonderful woman her whole life. Fearless and true. She never feared what others thought about her and stood for what she knew. Some may call that stubborn, I call that being a good witch.”

Ephraim turned fully to the casket and laid an undying hand on Margaret’s peaceful brow. “Rest now, daughter of Death. Rest now and return. Know that we will miss you, but we will….. Most of us will join you. Beloved and wonderful life burn out and give over to the night. Rest and know we remember you.”

He bowed his head over the funeral rites of an ancient culture he could no longer remember fully before he headed back to his seat. 

There were no more speeches after that. Ephraim had learned to try and go when he felt everyone important had gone at funerals. People told him he had a gift with words, and that there was no possible way to follow him. 

He went back over to the pews and nodded to Hyrum who was making big puppy dog eyes at him. Hyruym jumped out of his seat and ran after the other wolf pups as Ephraim called out, “Try not to ruin your clothes!”

A laugh came from behind him and he turned to find Tory standing there, hand on her hip. “He’s a werepup, Ephraim. You’re wasting your time. Your fault for putting him in those clothes in the first place.”

“Oh?” Ephraim said, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t those your pups wearing funeral clothing?”

Tori looked over to the box where Margaret lay and sighed. “I wanted to show some respect to her, I guess. Ruined clothing seems the best way to go.”

Ephraim smiled warmly. He was glad to be getting along with Tory more these days. She had to take the brunt of protecting the village while he was gone, and it seemed she had a new understanding and respect for what he did. 

“I’ll keep an eye on the kids,” she said. “Looks like you still have more work to do.”

Ephraim glanced over his shoulder where she was looking to see Benny leaned forward, his head in his hands. 

“Yeah, looks like,” Ephraim said gruffly. 

He nodded to Tory before going and taking a seat beside Benny again. 

Benny didn’t move as Ephraim put a hand on his back. 

“I miss her, Ephraim… and I barely knew her,” Benny whispered. A sob escaped him and he pressed his face into his hands harder. 

Ephraim curled an arm over Benny and pulled him closer and tighter into his side. “I know…. I’m sorry, Benny. I really am.”

Benny trembled for a long moment. “And what if I never die?” he whispered, horrified. “I’ll never see her again.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say never. Life happens. I’ve seen plenty of vampires die, but we have been given this gift, this curse, to never know how long it will take to go with Lady Death and be welcomed home. It’s not easy, but there is still joy to be found in it.”

Benny was silent for a long time before he said, “I don’t want one of your sermons, Ephraim.”

“Okay,” Ephraim said placatingly. He ran a hand up and down Benny’s back as people started to help take pews back to the church, giving Ephraim and Benny space as the ones closest to the witch. 

They sat there, longer than mortals could stand but a short while for beings who lived as long as they did. They were the only ones left, their pew alone beside the graveyard. Maragret’s box had been closed, nailed shut and sprinkled with herbs and flower petals. Benny had shivered with every nail driven into the wood, and Ephraim crooned and chirped to him comfortingly the whole time. 

Ephraim didn’t worry about Hyrum. He had another child to take care of, and Tory would make sure Hyrum ate well. 

Sunset approached and Josh came back from attending to other duties, looking reverent and solemn. “It’s time. Lady Death waits.”

Benny sobbed again and Ephraim helped him up. 

After Benny recovered himself, he took one end of the casket, Ephraim taking the other, and they gently carried it to the hole, lowering it in. 

Ephraim began to fill the hole again, and, after a moment, Benny started to help, though he stopped halfway through to kneel by the hole, sobbing as Josh comforted him. 

Finally, the grave was filled and Ephraim, with dirt covered hands and sweat grimed face, helped Benny up. 

“Watch,” was all he whispered into Benny’s ears. 

Benny opened his eyes as Josh stood before the grave and gave the funeral rites of this culture. “Lady of Death and Skies, here lies a woman. Your beautiful daughter. Recognize her, and take her home. Let her know peace and happiness in the great expanse of your palace.”

Ephraim watched eagerly, and there, invisible to mortal eyes, a woman in dark purple silks and dark vails appeared. Her black wings swept the grass, her wide brimmed hat, like that of a fancy woman’s sun hat, was draped in vails that fell all the way to the ground around her. 

She looked up at the two of them. 

“Ephraim,” she intoned. 

Ephraim let go of Benny, bowing fully from the waist to Josh’s surprise. “My lady.”

She looked to Benny, giving him a soft smile. “She is safe with me,” she promised. 

She bent her knees, reaching down into the ground, coming back with something pale and glowing in her hand before she disappeared. 

“What…. Was that-?”

“The Lady Death,” Ephraim said softly. “This is the gift we have been given, Benny. We do not know when we will die, but we are not left without her comfort.”

“Lady Death? What? Did you see her?” Josh asked the two of them. 

Ephraim smiled at Josh. “A fraction of her, yes. Come on, Benny. There’s celebrating to be done. If you’re not drunk in the hour, slap me.”

The two of them made off into the village to take the edge off their sorrow with remembered joys of Margaret’s life and time well spent with friends. 

“Idiots, the both of them,” a wretched voice said, though as she spoke, the crackling quality faded. 

“Perhaps. But they are yours.”

“Yes,” Margaret said as she turned to walk with Lady Death to her palace. “That they are.”

THE END

Hey! Reminder that I have other stories you can check out, and I will be starting a new story soon since this one is finished. Again. Thank you for reading :D

Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @inkkswhumpandstuff 

@honeycollectswhump @whump-blog-reblogs @pigeonwhumps @mj-or-say10 @percy-frayer 

@currentlyinthesprial @scoundrelwithboba @whumps-and-bumps @hellodecisionparalysis @scatteriskity

[jacks-dark-oc-stuff]

Whumpee Info

Aurelius was a promising young elf. He was heir to an architecture empire and the top of his classes. He drank in moderation and did not do drugs, but getting drugged can happen to anyone. Now, elves are rare and high class, so of course, he's taken as a prize to be sold in an underground auction. He has tags put in his ears and is branded. It hurts both his body and his pride, but he stays aloof. He's a high elf, it's not in his blood to show his weakness. Aurelius is bought by Elias, a very rich recluse whose fetishism for elves knows no bounds. He is blind in his left eye after a considerable amount of trauma and wishes to wear an eye patch, but Elias will not allow it.

after being rescued