#tw past torture

[moons-cozy-corner]

Rescued Pt. 5

The apparently long awaited part 5! Thank you all so much for the love on this series, this was never expected!! <3

ALSO! I am trying to post every Monday from now on (when I can, I'm still getting used to college), so if you like this, perhaps you'll like my other stuff! Mostly whump, plus an original project that is in the works. The first chapter is already out, so please go check it out that would be awesome I'd cry happy tears: Arnin and Daren | First Impressions

Anyways, to the writing (currently eating gummy worms :P)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

TW: Previous captivity mention, stalking, explosion, ptsd, pet whump, dehumanization

Being the county's biggest villain wasn't much of a title, but it scared the hospital into kicking out their precious pet. One step closer to being back in their arms.

The organization would be a difficult break, especially with an angered Hero in range, but it would work. Whumper just needed to wait. They needed patience.

And patience was what the county's biggest villain was known for.

--------

The bed didn't feel real.

Really, nothing did. There were so many unfamiliar sounds, feelings, objects--things Villain remember knowing but simply felt foreign to now. Years in a dingy basement would do that to a someone, he supposed.

And he used to be a someone.

The Organization had no bedrooms, but Hero worked in his office so much after Villain's disappearance there was a mattress in there. Now that Hero took over Superhero's office, his old office was where Villain was staying. Villain was locked in, by request, and hidden in the corner, away from any windows, with his eyes clenched shut.

Still, it was all to bright. Too much noise, too much everything. It made his ears ring and head spin, even with his eyes pressed so hard against his own arm that his vision was turning white. The hospital wasn't any better, but at least Villain had the constant, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. The nurses were a huge annoyance, too, but at least their visits came with food. Unlike most of Whumper's visits.

They thought Villain hadn't heard; the nurses, that is. Or maybe they didn't think about it. But either way, Villain did know; Whumper was free. And Villain knew Whumper; smart, cunning, evil. They would get what they wanted. They always did, in time. And right now what they wanted was Villain. No, not Villain.

They wanted Pet back.

His body churned, and he curled into himself, grasping his stomach and holding in the cries. Holding in the tears, too. Whumper never liked tears. Whenever the pillow was wet, it would get taken for a week.

So instead he lay there, listening to the cars buzz by. There were no cars when they were with Whumper. All quiet, all the time. "All peace", as Whumper would say. Until they wanted Pet to break the silence.

Villain started nipping at his knuckles. The tears were coming, whether he liked it or not. He was never very good at this, even after years of being trained to be good at it. Stay still. Stay quiet. Pet had already messed up by talking to Hero. Opening their eyes. They had been humming, for Christ's sake. When Whumper got their hands on it, Pet was dead. Worse than dead.

It threw it's pillow against the wall, tears having fallen to the fabric. It didn't deserve a pillow anyways. It never did. When it got back to it's Master it would beg for forgiveness. Apologize, make sure Master knew that it knew it didn't deserve a pillow or mattress. Or blankets. Or any privilege Master had ever allowed them. And Pet would be okay with it. It deserved that treatment. It deserved worse.

"Villain?" A soft knock whispered against all the other noises, a voice lifting above it all regardless. "Can I come in?"

Pet stayed silent. The door slid open silently, and Hero walked in. Pet imagined behind shut eyes what Hero would see; a skeleton of a man, abandoned of any protection from his skin other than a loose shirt and shorts given to it by Hero. The silence told Pet all they needed to know. Hero was disgusted, and it made Pet's guts swirl.

His voice was apprehensive. Not soft, exactly. Not calm. Apprehensive, as if talking to a skittish cat. A dangerous animal. A starved Pet, that could either go mad or break at any given second. "Villain, do you need another blanket? It's cold in here... Why are you on the floor?" Pet could feel Hero's warmth next to it, making it realize how cold it really was in that tiny office.

Hero didn't make any moves to touch or bother Pet. He seemed to notice, however, that Pet wasn't asleep. "This... this is okay. If this is what you need to heal--to stay quiet, keep your eyes closed, whatever this behavior is--that's okay. Just remember you don't have to. You're allowed to talk and to see and- and to be warm, baby. You're safe here."

Villain's knuckles shook, the bitten parts throbbing. It's not safe here It's not safe here It's not safe here It's not safe here It's no-

Strong hands took Villain's wrists and he screamed. He screamed and flailed before correcting itself, falling to an apologetic heap on the floor but the grip didn't relent. "You are safe here, Villain! Gosh- get up off the floor, please, just- c'mere."

The warmth that surrounded it was extreme. It wasn't soft or subtle. It was harsh and suffocating. Hero's chest moved up and down slowly, but Pet's did the opposite. The only reason Pet didn't struggle was because they couldn't. Stay still, Master had said. Stay quiet.

Until I find you.

It was hard to behave in such strange circumstances. Maybe Master would be merciful if Pet begged for forgiveness hard enough. If they explained how hard they had tried. It knew the only thing that could bring it mercy was to not screw up again, but it found itself seeping into the warmth that suffocated them.

I just want to be better. I just want to be safe.

And then it passed out.

----------------------------------------

Villain went limp in Hero's arms. His eyes were wet and red and raw. So was the expression on his face. A face that used to be soft and happy, sly with smirks and big smiles when he would successfully prank the hero. Nimble hands that once tended Hero's' wounds now cut up and bony.

Hero just wanted Villain back.

But Villain wasn't Villain anymore, and that was the sad truth. It would take a long time for their lover to heal physically, and even longer mentally. But whatever happened, Hero promised himself and Villain that he would be protected from Whumper until the ends of days. So that maybe Villain could be happy once again.

Hero set Villain back down on the mattress, the same one Hero had spent countless nights sitting restless on trying to find Villain. The thrown pillow was placed back under his head, and a blanket placed over his brittle limbs. Hero watched as his lungs slowed to a normal speed. Far from a calm speed, but better than it had been. He hoped Villain would at least sleep for a few hours. He deserved that much.

Hero didn't move either way. He sat in the office chair and watched his lover sleep less than peacefully. And as they watched Villain, all other worries seemed to seep away, all focused on him. Just him.

So when the alarms started blaring all around them, when the lights flashed red, when Villain began to scream, covering his ears and clenching shut his eyes, Hero cursed and ran. He ran, locking the door behind him. Locking away his love, for his own safety.

And as he ran down the halls, guards moving this way and that, a burst of light came running towards him. A flash of orange, of red, of white. It was blinding, but a single shape penetrated the blinding fullness of light. A shadow of a person leaning over Hero, muttering words he could barely understand. But he did, through the ringing of his ears and the smoke in the air.

Take this as a warning, Hero.

Then all went dark.

taglist: @alwaysalilhigh @nicolepascaline @whumped-inc @littlespacecastle @hollowgast1 @edkore @ramadiiiisme @writereleaserepeat @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @robinwrites @aswallowimprisoned @whumblrwork @cepheusgalaxy @tedrakitty @delicateprincepaper @alwaysalilhigh @0eggdealer @subval01 @ifthisislifeidontlikeit

#writeblr #writing community #writing #my writing #whump #villain #hero #hero and villain #hero x villain #whumpee #whumper #pet whump #tw explosion #tw past torture #tw ptsd #tw kidnapping #whump community #whumpblr #whump writing

[albino-whumpee]

Discarded

I went crazy lmao. Anyways you missed this? I hope you did. It’s convoluted? Yes did I still enjoy writing it? Yes. Enjoy!

CW//animal attack, pet whump, implied torture, blood, superhero and villain whump, collars, conditioning, reluctant caretaking, dehumanization. Ask to tag if I missed anything

Taglist:

@boxboysandotherwhump @yet-another-heathen @fanastywhump @j-is-evil-28 @endless-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @unicornscotty @redstainedsocks @whumper-boi @whatwhumpcomments @bunny222  

The battery isn´t strong enough to feed the machine. Not anymore. 

The battery can barely process what is happening when it´s dumped outside. After almost a year of fighting to live while hooked to the machine, its wrists are numb and bloody. It had crawled around for a long time now, so putting its legs under it when dragged and pushed was something it was no longer accustomed to doing. That was no excuse to try and do better for Master, the battery knew. So it tried its best to walk again until Master kicked it out on the street.

“Get lost” Master spat at it shutting the door behind them. 

Where? The battery had nowhere to run to anymore. Master made sure of that. They had made sure it knew that millions of times. 

The battery had become loyal and would go wherever Master told it to. Sensing Master was mistaken about their order, the battery waited. Kneeling at the door with its head down, it waited for the order on where to go. 

An hour passed by in a blink. 

Then two. 

The battery blinked once, then twice before bracing itself for a beating for knocking on the metal door. It was outside, but the battery was not restrained… had Master forgotten? The battery’s head pounded as it sat back, catching its breath before standing up using the wall as leverage, and then trying to open the door to go back inside.

The world blurred around the edges as it would sometimes after losing food privileges, but the battery pulled through and kept trying to open the door.

It shouldn´t be outside. Its place was next to Master and the machine. But… the battery’s world smudged as a smell of dirty rain flooded its senses, only noticing a moment later it had collapsed on the floor.

The battery was outside because Master had wanted it. There were no shackles around its wrists. It had been released from its duty…

Then, was this…Freedom? No, the battery still had the collar around its neck. It was anything but free.

A test? No, its Master doesn´t play silly games like that. 

The battery pulls the last of its energy to sit on its heels, kneeling, before the closed doors. 

“W-Where should I go now, Master?” It tries in a hoarse voice. It doesn´t mind waiting a few more hours for a reply that doesn´t come. Its life had consisted of endless waiting, after all. 

It´s by the time the day dies into the night, that it realizes Master was long gone from the other side of the door.

The battery’s hair clung to its face as the water poured down on it, dripping tears its body couldn’t make anymore.

The weight of its Master´s words crush it, but what was it but its Master´s battery? 

Its orders were clear.

Limping heavily, it stands up and walks away aimlessly. It had stopped being human a long time ago. It had turned into just a battery for whatever plans its Master had. It was a tool and without a Master, its life had no meaning or direction. A complete waste of space.

A waste of space doesn´t deserve a bed to sleep and rest in, nor does it deserve to eat or have a name. A waste of space doesn´t get to have the collar Master gave it as proof of their ownership. 

The battery decides it's not needed to take off the collar to burn it from where it hangs against its throat. Such considerations are reserved for humans. Using just a little bit of its powers to set it on fire shouldn´t be a problem, but just brushing their fingertips against the lock makes it immediately drop its hands back to its sides. 

No, no. No touching. No using its powers when not hooked to the machine. Merely hours away from Master and it has forgotten already? No. Can´t break Master´s rules even if they don´t want to be its Master anymore. 

But then, now that it’s been discarded, is it allowed to touch? Or is it not allowed? Would it be punished for keeping it? Which is the correct answer? It doesn’t know.

That´s why a battery needs a Master. Because it is no longer a human, it can´t take decisions for itself.

After pondering a little longer, it gives up on coming up with an answer it’s not capable of getting before it crawls into a hall in the wall. 

The place is dirty and so tiny, the battery has to fold its legs and neck to fit. It’s so tight, it can´t help but relax, letting out a purr of contentment at the familiar sensation of containment. At least this is a feeling it knows well. Stored, like in the cage. 

Would Master come for it if it waited there? No, once useless, Master wouldn´t even spare a look. The battery slowly closed its eyes.

Then, would any of Master´s friends take it like they threatened to do before? It was a broken battery now, though. He couldn´t even be useful and use its powers anymore.

No wonder Master had discarded it.

Did a broken battery still have some use to someone?

---

It woke up to the sound of voices and barks.

The sun was still rising, painting the sky a tint of pale pink and orange. The rain from the day before was now just a breeze that froze the battery’s thin body. It was a couple of young men, taking their mean-looking dogs out for a walk on a leash. The battery felt a shiver down its spine at the sight of the shock collar and muzzle the animals wore.

It had tried to curl further into its hole when one of them peaked in.

“Oh? What do we have here?” The guy wearing a red beanie whistled as his friend came to stand next to him.

“What?” The man looked into the hole and found the battery cowering away from the dog’s snout “…is that a person?”

“Seems more like a rat to me” The battery wouldn’t disagree, given how small and contorted it was. “Why don’t you come out and let us have a better look, hm? Or are you hiding something important in there buddy?” The man whipped his arm and grabbed the battery so tight it yelped. The man pulled it out swiftly, making it land right next to one of the dogs. The battery quickly covered itself when the dog’s mouth came close to its face, curling into itself defensively as it heard the young man laugh.

“There’s nothing here,” the other clicked his tongue.

“Maybe it’s on him” the guy with the red beanie replied, pulling on the dog’s leash when it kept insistently wanting to jump on the battery. By its drooling, it figured the muzzle was the only thing keeping it from biting it. “Hey, you,” the man said kicking away the battery’s arms from its face “we won’t give you trouble if you give us what we want so just be…” the man trailed off as his eyes settled over the battery’s neck. “What the fuck? Is that a dog collar?”

The other guy stretched his neck to stare too, but when the battery tried to scurry away from it, the guy stomped on its chest. It looked at it for a moment before snorting into laughter “holy shit, it is!”

The dogs were restlessly barking and pawing at it so hard, its ratty clothes began to tear. The man pulled on the dog’s chain leash before passing it to the other guy so he could inspect the battery’s collar. It was forced up to its knees with a sudden strong tug from the D ring on his collar, choking it slightly as it struggled to put its numb feet below it.

“Woah, it’s even locked,” the man said pulling on the tiny padlock, and then, hooking a finger between the leather and its neck, cutting the battery’s airflow until it whimpered and the man let go with a gritting laugh. Then he grabbed a fistful of its matted hair and forced it up to its feet, only making it fall back to its knees. 

The battery’s head snapped to a side when he slapped it.

“Hey, hey! Do something, man” he slapped it increasingly stronger “Defend yourself, man! Say something! C’mon!” They repeated the process over and over before one burst into laughter. “He won’t even try to stop me!”

Suddenly the slaps turned into hits and fists rained over the battery’s body. It tried to put its hands around its head but the other man kicked its arms off, the force of his kick turning the battery’s body.

Even when they stomped on it, even when they pulled it up only to batter it down, the battery didn’t say a single word.

It was not allowed to speak to anyone else but Master.

Once they got bored of hitting it without getting even a single yelp out of it, they unleashed the dogs.

It was a moment where the battery debated simply letting them maul it or running. Its legs were numbed out from hours of sitting in the same position, but the ache suddenly vanished when it broke into a sprint, the two dogs dashing behind.

Air burnt through its lungs as it poured every single crumb of energy into running. It knocked over containers and trash to stop the dogs, but it was useless, as the dogs easily caught up to snap their teeth barely centimeters away from their ankles.

The battery saw its chance to lose them when it tried to turn on a corner, but the puddles of dirty rainwater were everywhere and so, it drifted, losing its balance before ultimately crashing against the floor.

It only had time to open its eyes before the dogs jumped on it.

—-

Everything hurt even more now.

The battery lay still over a puddle of its blood hours after the dog’s owners had put them back on their leashes and ran off when the battery stopped moving. Even when its arms and legs were little more than rags now, the battery was somehow still alive.

The battery’s shaking hand passed over its neck, wet with drool and dirty puddle water, and found the collar ragged to shreds instead of its neck.

Somehow, Master had saved it, the battery thought to itself hours later, when it could gather enough strength to try and crawl back into a better hiding spot. The oozing blood from its wounds smeared on the ground as it dragged forward.

—

It hadn´t meant to come out of its hiding, but after days inside the hole in the wall throwing up an empty stomach, it was delirious. It hadn´t meant to land on some poor girl´s head when it thought it had seen Master.

Of course, it paddled away when it noticed its mistake. Dropping its head to wait for punishment, fearing deep in its soul the woman would somehow begin hitting it or even worse, unleashed fiery dogs to chase after it again, but the battery didn´t receive anything but a perplexed look.

“Is that…Are those dog bites?” the woman asked with horror at the half-moons covering the entirety of the battery’s body. Some of them were so swollen and infected they let out a smell the woman had to cover her mouth with both hands to not throw up.

“-ase…” The battery lowered its head until it touched the floor, the coolness of it sending a shiver of bliss through its body “Please…Water…Mas-ah, please…juss…a little…please” it begged, forcing itself to straighten itself and failing so miserably the woman rushed to hold it. Did the world always have that many funny colors? It wondered as its vision swam and it began to only catch glimpses of what happened before it.

It caught the streets, then a door. Then someone was vomiting while it laid down on something so soft it almost cried. Was it a cloud? It certainly felt like one. 

After that, it was red. So red and blurry, the battery was sure it wouldn´t open its eyes again. 

But many times, it did. It opened its eyes to a blurred world that slowly, with each new time it forced its eyelids open, the world became a little clearer. 

It was a very spacious room at the beginning, but then it became clear it was some tiny plastic hovel in someone´s garden. The door leading out to it almost always closed except for the times the woman would come in to check on it. Angrily yelling at it for squirming its way down to the floor before pulling it back on the sofa. 

The battery still found ways to not lay on the furniture but on the floor, where batteries should be. 

The woman had stopped trying to pick it up and had instead pulled the covers and pillows down on the floor. 

It had been adamant at first, squirming itself out of the comfort and warmth of such things meant for humans before the woman had growled at it. 

"Cleaning these every night for you is turning bothersome, ya know? If you´re not gonna get on the couch, I gotta make sure you´re at least a little bit warm. Or what? Are you gonna force me to tuck you up every night as if you were a kid? Don´t even think about it"

The battery was forced into the covers like a burrito many nights after that.

Neither were very happy about that, but the woman watched the battery relax in them after a while. For the battery, containment was no stranger. If this was this woman’s way of keeping it controlled, then what was a battery gonna say? She wasn’t its Master, but it had learnt to not refuse any treatment others gave it.

In a way, the wrapping made it feel like being hooked up to the machine again. It was tight, but not so much it wouldn’t be able to squirm it’s way out of the blanket like with the machine, with its openings specially designed to fit its arms and not let it move away even an inch as it sucked its energy.

The familiarity of the situation made it expect things. If it was contained, would it just be a matter of time before punishments came? It had denied food that was given freely before, but the woman’s simple scolding before she forced its mouth open wouldn’t last long. It would be hooked to a feeding tube soon. It was so sure, that when the woman pulled on her hair and then put a spoon on its hand, the battery didn’t drop it out of disobedience.

It was simply too shocked to hear her say “he” should know how to use a spoon.

A battery was an object others used because they only served one purpose. “He” was not used for the batteries. But the woman kept calling it “him”.

When it dressed its wounds with brand new bandages, when it was helped into a bath because “he” reeked. Even when she gently tried to pull it into the couch, the woman referred to it as “he”. She was gentle but severe when the battery refused to receive human things. Even when she was so frustrated she pulled on her hair, she didn’t see it as something inhuman undeserving of the help she was giving it.

It learnt even her kindness would end one day, when she was talking on the phone with someone when he waited for her to come in on the morning.

“I’ve seen everything in this streets, Marshall. And I mean that! But a man who refuses to take off a dog collar on his neck gotta be the worst of all. He was little more than a corpse when I found him but even when he didn’t try to run away the first chance he got, he refuses to act like a normal human being. Do you think this is more of a mental thing? Like, this boy has been through it, no doubt of that, but just what exactly leaves you acting…like that?” There was some buzzing words “I don’t know, I honestly want you to check on him ASAP. I just can’t shake this feeling that I’ve seen him before,” the battery’s heart throbbed “eh? A picture? Another one?” More buzzing. The battery saw her turn at him for a second before turning away “well, his face a little less swollen now, maybe there’s hope to finding out who I have been taking care of, finally”

The battery’s heart stopped at her words as she continued to talk.

The battery knew why and how it had become it’s master’s battery. The life before that had ended when the collar was put on. It was for the better. After all, the battery’s past life had ended with them when they died on the other side of the room.

The battery couldn’t let her know all of her help was given to that despicable thing that didn’t deserve anything else but being hooked up to a machine until it died. It was its master’s battery to repent, it didn’t deserve the help she had given it in the first place, but she…didn’t deserve to learn it had given so much help to a murderer. Even when it had never meant to kill them.

But that was the battery’s sin. It lifted its hand in the woman’s direction.

The battery never meant to hurt anybody, right?

But the battery couldn’t help it.

It had been so long since it had used its powers like this, but panic overcame it when the woman turned with the phone pointing at it. She couldn’t figure who it was. What it had done.

Their powers were a little too strong for a dumb battery to control. That’s why they had died and that’s why a battery needed a Master and a machine: to be properly used.

The waves of energy flowed like a river though its fingers, lighting up the very tips before the world tensed and wrinkled. As if space and time had become a paper it could fold, the battery’s finger shot a light that pierced the woman’s phone before she could even notice it moving.

“What the fuck?!” The woman screamed as she let the fried phone fall of her hands into the floor. She stared at her phone for a second. The display had melted so, a hole the size of her thumb had appeared. She blinked at it for a second before looking up at the guy in the floor with a hand up in the air, shaking like crazy.

“Don’t” the battery panted before turning its head to vomit blood.

That tiny amount of power wouldn’t have been accepted for the machine. But that was all the battery could use when it was discarded. it thought maybe after a month it could at least use this much, but oh it was so badly mistaken. The battery’s nose and mouth dripped into the floor as it heaved, gasping for air its lungs rejected.

“Y-You did that? That thing you just did, I have seen it before!” The battery whined, knowing he had failed to cover the truth. It had to go now. This woman’s kindness was over. “But- But they said you had died! No way in hell you are-!” The woman’s voice died on his ears as the battery crumbled into a pool of his own blood.

The battery watched in a blurred world how the woman reached for her phone before stumbling into the house beyond the garden.

It had no time to lose now.

Hadn’t it had worse? This little blood would have been any other day before.

Stand up.

The battery obeyed its master’s voice in its head. Sticky blood marking its clumsy attempt of lifting itself and walking out the hut in the garden, the sun blinding its eyes for a second before it walked out. Rushing away as the senses came back to it and it heard the woman screaming as sirens began to ring closer and closer. It broke into a sprint into the forest when there were many voices screaming at him with threats of having weapons and yelling at it to stop running.

Everything hurt so much. The pain was too much to bear.

“Freeze!”

And the battery jumped down into yet another hole. Such was its luck the battery managed to jump into a sewer that spat it out in a beach. The battery, half drowned and covered in feces, crumbled down unconscious in the sand.

-

It woke up at night. Carefully sitting in its knees before looking up at the city before it. How long had it been since it could see it’s hometown like this? The battery’s eyes filled with tears before it gathered the courage to stand up.

Help wouldn’t come for batteries.

Once anyone knew who it was, any help and kindness would end.

It didn’t matter how or why, whoever killed a hero was nothing else but an evil villain. And the battery? In a single minute, in one single hit, it had killed nine. Projecting the scene to the world to show who betrayed them before taking the battery into their base and hooking it up to the real machine.

River, the youngest of the eleven heroes, had died with them that day to be reborn as the Master’s battery when he was abandoned by his own team.

#whump #villain whump #writing #my writing #River the villain #tw blood #tw animal attack #pet whump #tw past torture #reluctant caretaker #sadistic whumpers #long chapter sorry #I’m sure many people will stop reading after this #but I’m glad I have it out of my system #in the end there wasn’t much to this story #that I could narrate #because it was me who wrote it #but anyways #I hope you enjoyed the ride! #scars for redemption

[morrigan-cotk95]

New fic!!!!

This is the sequel to my Whumptober fic “I Know Exactly How the Rule Goes (Put My Mask on First)”

#dream smp #angst with a happy ending #fanfic #wilbur soot centric #sbi fanfic #twins duo #sequel fic #tw nightmares #tw past torture #alternate universe: superheroes

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

Love Letters: Part 8

A/N: So…I’ve learned that writing torture is not my jam, so this takes place a few hours or so after Part 7 because I just can’t write graphic torture/whump/gore😊 But the aftermath—now that’s fun😈

Warnings: Implied torture, implied sadistic whumper, past torture, implications of past torture, injury/injuries, blood/blood mention/blood reference (okay, so maybe “lots” of blood if you’re squeamish like I am), knife reference, reference to genocide and mass murder (neither take place. These atrocities are only mentioned and proposed), emotional distress, slight disassociation, manipulation, implied threats, actual threats, broken bones, betrayal, consensual loss of consciousness

Love Letters series masterlist | My masterlist

Hero’s head hung limp against their chest. The strain in their neck had ceased its crying, but it didn’t make whatever part of Hero’s mind still remained from recognizing the minor discomfort. Their breaths were wheezy, nearly gurgling through blood and mucus. Despite their circumstances, despite all the pain, they relished this moment of borderline unconsciousness. They didn’t know how long it had taken for their screams to bother Superhero, or if the bastard had forced themselves to stomach the wails until they simply couldn’t. It wasn’t until well after Hero’s throat had passed the threshold of hoarseness and scratchy that the traitor had finally come barreling down the stairs and put a stop to their lover’s sick game.

“Stop, please, Supervillain,” Superhero pleaded and stepped in front of the master criminal, their back to Hero now.

Hero watched through half-lidded eyes and hazy vision as Superhero gripped their lover’s hand, bloodied and still clutching their current instrument of torture. Thanks to their former friend’s stature, they couldn’t see the master criminal. They couldn’t gauge the situation, but they could certainly gauge the person—the traitor—standing before them.

It wasn’t a plea to let them go. It wasn’t a plea to give them care or even to leave them be. Superhero had only asked for them to stop.

“Why should I? Because you can’t stomach it?” Supervillain said between gritted teeth. From the slight view they had, Hero saw Supervillain’s hand clench as they ripped their other from Superhero’s trembling grasp.

Superhero inhaled sharply. They answered Supervillain quietly, so quietly they may not have said anything at all. “Because I’m asking you to.”

Silence pounded in Hero’s ears alongside the thrumming of their weakened heartbeat.

“Please.” Superhero’s voice cracked.

There was static between the two for only a moment. And then, Supervillain was turning sharply. Hero flinched, jarring their injuries and causing more blood to ooze from the wounds littering their front as Supervillain slammed down the heavy handled knife on the tray of tools, causing more of them to rattle and the clatter to echo throughout the basement.

They saw the moment their former mentor sagged with relief. They could even picture the face they were making: eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and an overall slackness in their features. But they didn’t turn to look at them.

No. Superhero only stepped closer to Supervillain, still fuming over their tools. Hero could see now that the master criminal’s eyes were withdrawn beneath their furrowed brows and the shadows of their face.

If their jaw would allow it, Hero would’ve cracked a smirked. The master criminal was bothered. Bothered by the insecurities Hero had managed to stoke before their torture had started and in between all of their screeching.

They prayed that if this was to be the last thing they did on this earth, then so be it. They could be content with that. If their words—and their bloodcurdling screams—drove these two to tear each other apart and squabble amongst themselves, then good. It would at least buy someone else time to locate the pair, and the Ancient Sword, and put a stop to Superhero’s genocide before it could even begin.

Hero eyed the pair wearily as Superhero set a seemingly gentle hand on Supervillain’s shoulder. The criminal stilled at the touch, eyeing it with something Hero could only read as disdain. Superhero murmured something too low for Hero to hear, but it made the sadistic criminal glance at their lover with a laser focus.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” Superhero suggested soothingly. Hero wanted to hurl. How could someone be so tender toward a monster like Supervillain? And in front of their victim, no less?

Supervillain sent a glare in their direction as if they could sense their judgement. And who knew? Maybe they could.

“I’ll leave them be,” Supervillain started, their eyes cutting back to Superhero. “But so will you. You won’t even go near them.”

Superhero swallowed. Their body stuttered a beat, as if they were inclined to look their way, but they didn’t so much as move. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The words settled on Hero’s ears like a lead weight.

They wanted to believe Superhero was stuck between a rock and a hard place, that they had no choice in the matter, and that this was the only means of aid they could conceivably give them. But Hero knew better. Superhero had betrayed them, had sold them out to Supervillain. And if they’d had time, maybe they would’ve found evidence to prove the instinct in them that spat that Superhero had orchestrated the whole thing.

The artifacts heist, the letters, the kidnapping, everything except for their lover’s thorough torture.

But they’d forced Supervillain to stop. Hero believed that they were the only person who could quell Supervillain’s blood thirst, but doubted very much that the master criminal would leave them alone forever—even if they’d promised their lover to do just that.

The pair left in silence with only of the scuffing of their shoes on the cement floor to fill the vacuum. Hero sagged against the pole they were tethered to. Their eyes fell shut. Their mind whirled through a daze. It was strange, just how conscious they were yet they couldn’t string a single, coherent thought together. Nothing could settle in the fog or find stable ground to lay roots into. With what was left of their rationale, Hero knew they were taxed. From the tremble in their stiff muscles to the trickle of drying blood crusting around their wounds, to the weight of their swollen eyes, they simply couldn’t take anymore.

So they promised to let themselves rest. They would rest, and then—Hero didn’t quite know what came after “then.” With each passing second in their newfound, relative safety, their mind refused to work. Thinking became a foreign concept to them. What was a thought? How was it more significant than the sharp breaths through their nose or the cracked spirit slipping through their wounds? How could something as fragile and clouded as their mind be of any use to them now?

Musty air assaulted Hero’s dry tongue and forced itself down their throat as they sucked in a harsh breath. Fingers ghosted over their bloody cheeks, quite literally a phantom touch that Hero wasn’t certain was actually there. Their shoulder screamed as they flinched sharply at the gentle touch. Their head slammed back against the pole they were tied to. Hero’s legs jerked, but couldn’t kick out or move from under them even as they tried to make themselves sit up.

“Hero, stop,” a familiar voice murmured. “You’re only going to hurt yourself more.”

Hero’s swollen and blood-crusted eyes focused blearily on the figure crouching in front of them. Keen eyes and a perfectly schooled face wavered in front of their delirious eyes.

“I’m going to get you out of here. It might hurt, but you’re safe,” the figure told them confidently. They leaned closer to them and Hero turned their head away, ducking their chin into their mangled shoulder. The air around them shifted, and so did the person before them if the warm breath ticking Hero’s skin through their shredded supersuit was any indication. “Try not to move too much. You’re hurt pretty badly.”

Hero gave into the urge to let their eyes fall shut. Somewhere inside of them, a meek voice told them to listen.

Whatever, they thought.

Fingers grazed their curled hands. Hero whimpered as those fingers then began to work at the rope binding their wrists, unintentionally pulling it tighter as they hopefully worked to undo the knot. Hero rubbed their split, chapped lips together, nearly wishing the person before them would just cut it off.

“I didn’t think you’d like that,” they huffed, laughing.

The gears in Hero’s brain shifted just enough for their mind to turn over in recognition.

“Uh…s?” Their barely conscious tongue rasped. You.

“Me.” Other Supervillain’s lips quirked up into a smile, a sight Hero’s half-lidded, half-swollen eyes caught before they were forced to let them close again. Everything was too much effort for their drained body. They flinched as a schwick clicked in their ears, the telltale noise of a knife flicking open. They forced their breaths to remain steady, a task easily completed thanks to the careful coaxing of their intuition.

The rope around their wrists pulled tighter again before it snapped. Hero’s arms gave out. Their muscles trembled violently, strained from the position, from the tension, from being coiled up in the expectation of further pain. Unwillingly but unable to stop themselves or hold themselves up, Hero lurched forward, colliding with Other Supervillain’s expectant embrace.

“It’s okay,” Other Supervillain soothed. “Just rest.”

Hero remained silent. Steeling themselves, they battled against their senses to ignore the surge of pain flooding their system from jarred injuries, stinging cuts, and the itch of dried blood.

From non-threatening stab wounds to shallow cuts, Supervillain had marred their flesh in just the right way to keep them alive—though Hero believed it was no less painful than if the master criminal had a mind to actually kill them.

And who knew, maybe they’d wanted to kill them. Maybe that was their goal, for whatever reason if not for their own bloodlust. All while their lover wanted to rid the city—if not the world—of masked villains and supervillains.

Ever so gently, Other Supervillain managed to reposition Hero so they could slice through the rope binding their ankles behind the pole. Hero groaned as their legs quaked, finally giving into the limpness and breaking the crust of dried blood as their limbs parted weakly. They sagged into Other Supervillain’s weak hold, their cracked lips parted, nearly panting.

“Take all the time you need, Hero. There’s no rush, not anymore.”

Hero tilted their head to look up at them, but the gleaming metal of an ancient pommel peaking out of a plain cloth wrapping beside Other Supervillain caught their eye.

Of course you went for the sword before me. They thought bitterly, perhaps angrier and more surprised than they should’ve been.

“I just happened upon it first,” Other Supervillain assured them, smirking. “Besides, I couldn’t let the Agency get a hold of it. Who knows how deep Superhero’s corruption runs.”

It’s love.

Other Supervillain went rigid. “What is?”

Between them. They love Supervillain. Hero squeezed their eyes shut again, as if that could hide the hideous truth from them. The tension eased from Other Supervillain’s body. Superhero wanted the sword.

“Do you know why?”

Hero shook their head tightly—or as best as they could, anyway. The movement instantly flooded their empty stomach with nausea. Their head rattled with the dull headache, coming to a sharp crescendo as the pain exploded in their temples.

Other Supervillain’s arms carefully shifted around them, gently repositioning them again so they were laying against the hard floor with Hero’s head in their lap. Hero’s lips twisted, but they remained silent. They couldn’t speak even if they’d wanted to. They’d be surprised if all their screaming hadn’t shredded their vocal cords after all—especially since they’d continued to wail even after their voice failed.

“It might be easier on you if you were unconscious, Hero,” Other Supervillain said softly. “It wouldn’t hurt, I promise.”

Superhero? Hero asked instead.

“Dead, probably. I’ll have to call the Agency once we clear out so they can retrieve the bodies,” they answered unflinchingly. Hero blinked, their mouth parting a little more. The dangerous criminal’s fingers softly grazed Hero’s temple, drawing a light pattern across their brow and back again. “Supervillain won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Something hard passed over Other Supervillain’s face, or what Hero could see of it beneath their mask. Every movement of their features was like a puzzle, so unlike who they were as Politician. Hero wondered just which one was the alter ego and which was their default—and where that left Hero in their graces.

“I suppose Clerk will give me an earful when I see them next,” Other Supervillain sighed, and if Hero was a little more confidant in their perception of the masked persona, they would say they were being comedically dramatic.

Hero swallowed limply. They were so tired. Everything ached. Every bone, every muscle, every thought. They weren’t sure how much of it was from their injuries and how much of it was a result of their sheer relief at possibly being rescued. It won’t hurt?

“Not a bit. You won’t feel a thing until well after you get medical attention.”

Not your captive, then?

“Too many people would go to war for you.” And just like that, Politician’s personable nature shone through the suave, calculating criminal.

If Hero could manage, they would’ve rolled their eyes. Even if they could, Other Supervillain hadn’t given them a chance to between the time they’d assented to the master criminal’s suggestion and when their consciousness slipped into the soothing darkness of a peaceful rest.

Part 9

Taglist: @selene-stories

A/N 2.0: I’M NOT READY FOR THIS SERIES TO END.

Thank you all for attending my brief post-realization panic and supporting me through my whiplash as what started out as a supposed two-part prompt fill turned into a short series which then turned into my brief foray into writing whump that suddenly came to a screeching halt waaaaaaay sooner than I expected it to. Even though a lot (a lot, holy shit) of this series came as a surprise to me (namely the fact that it was a short series), I’ve loved every second of it…even though it sometimes hurt me. And blindsided me. And gave me whiplash at times.

#writeblr #my writing #heroes and villains #hero x villain #hero x supervillain #supervillain x superhero #superhero x supervillain #Love Letters series #slight whump #tw implied torture #tw torture #tw past torture #tw passing out #tw emotional distress #tw blood #tw blood mention #tw injury #tw betrayal #tw dissociation #ummmmmm did i get all the tw??? i think so???

[whumpcreations]

An Uninvited Guest 2 - A Scared Villain

Well, I think I have a new series now. And I have names which was anything but easy.

Caretaker 1 is named Cadan (he/him), Caretaker 2 is Avery (he/they) and Whumpee is Lou (they/them).

TW: gun shot wound, wound treating, whip marks, talk about past captivity and torture, scars, stitches

Part 1 | Part 3 | Masterlist

“Cadan!” Avery sounded alarmed. Cadan raised his gaze and followed Avery´s wide eyes to Lou´s forearm and to the tattoo mostly covered with blood. But it was without doubt the symbol of the villains. In one smooth motion, Cadan came to their feet hand jerking to his waist where the gun should be. It wasn´t. He had left it on the kitchen counter and now regretted that decision deeply. How could he be so stupid, so stupid. It was another mistake- a mistake that could cost his partner their life. He always fail to protect even though it was his only job.

But when both took a step back Lou didn´t seem threatening at all. How could they, being covered in their own blood and leaning weakly against the rim of the bathtub. On the contrary- they seemed scared, terrified even.

Again, Avery noticed that something was wrong. Lou – if this was even their real name – had nothing villain-like; they looked way to scared and miserable. Lou proved Avery´s feeling when they started to speak.

“Please. Please just let me go. I will just leave. Please. Don´t send me back there. I can´t… I can´t go back.” Lou begged and pleaded and sobbed and Avery just knew it would end right up into a panic attack. Thinking about what to do Avery was interrupted by their partner.

“Hey, we will still help you. We can´t have you running around shot, can we?” He hated the villains – even helped people escape out of different villain territories or directly out of captivity for years - but thheey wouldn’t let anybody bleed out in their house.

“You will?” Lou sounded so lost but hopeful and surprised at the same time. “I promise, I will do everything you want, everything. But please don´t make me go back.”

“Go back where?”, Cadan asked.

“To- to-“, they were interrupted by a loud moan they couldn´t hold down while shifting slightly.

“Okay. Wound first, then your story. Sounds good?” Lou just nodded still visibly scared.

While Avery fetched some hot water from the kitchen Cadan wanted to help Lou taking their shirt off. Cadan carefully pulled the fabric off the wound causing slight moans and hisses. When he tried to push the shirt up higher to take it off completely, Lou grabbed his wrist and held it tightly. “Don´t- don´t take it off”, they whispered.

“It would be way easier to look at that injury, wash it and look for other wounds with your shirt off. You do not need to be ashamed. I will just concentrate on your wound”, Cadan argued.

Sweat shone on Lou´s now even paler face. Their breaths came strained and Cadan worried that they would collapse completely now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

“But if you really don´t want me to take it off, we can just leave it this way.”

Avery returned with the water and some cloths and Cadan began to wipe away all the blood and the dirt carefully and slowly. He knew every still so soft touch hurt Lou and Cadan was impressed how they handled it. They moaned and cried out but never flinched and never pulled away.

Now, Cadan became more and more worried about the wound. How should they treat a bullet wound? What if the bullet was still in there? What if it hit something important? Then they would be dead by now, Cadan knew.

Yet, it was not the bullet wound that made him hesitate a moment. The more blood had been washed off the more other wounds came to light. Wounds Cadan knew way too well on his own- whip marks. Dozens of them covered Lou´s back; some already scabbed over, others bloody and from an angry purple colour. How the hell did this scared obvious-villain end up in their house so desperately in need of a patch up?  Cadan decided to ignore the other marks for now. With all the dried blood gone, he could finally see the gun shot wound that wasn´t nearly as bad as he had feared- it was just a graze. Still bleeding but it could be fixed with a few stitches.            

After giving them some pain meds Cadan started the stitches. Lou tried to hold back any sounds of pain – unsuccessfully – and their body was so tense Cadan worried it would just snap at any moment. At the end Lou´s eyes were glazed with pain and they breathed heavily.

“We´re done.” Lou just nodded before whispering a nearly inaudible “Thank you.”

“I´ll go and make us all some sandwiches then.” Avery hurried out of the bathroom. Cadan knew that Avery had seen all those signs of mistreatment too. Not just the whip marks as Cadan realized while treating the graze but their wrists were sore too and their neck was covered in dark bruises. They probably needed some time calming down as Avery took things like that to heart every single time.

“Lou.” They looked up. “Can I have a look at those other injuries?” Cadan tried to sound as gentle as possible. Where their face was open and asking one moment ago it was retreated, closed and hard now. “No. That´s not necessary. I´m okay.” He didn´t believe that they were fine for one second but he knew the shame that came with these kind of wounds.

“I would really like to help you. You don´t need to be afraid or ashamed.” Cadan slowly lifted the hem of his shirt to expose his back. Light scars that had just looked like the bruised and bloody welts on Lou´s back years ago covered his back. “I know what it´s like.”

After a moment of silence and hesitation the tears spilled over and Lou started talking. “I lived in a villain territory farther in the north. When I heard that it would be safer here, I thought about getting away there but I was still scared. After months I finally decided to go. I almost made it out of the last villain territory, but they found me and held me captive since. They thought I was a spy but I wasn´t. I promise I´m not. Please- please believe me. I just wanted to get away.” A wave of sobs stopped them from apparently pleading even more.

Cadan knew that this probably wasn´t the whole story - it didn´t explain their villain tattoo – but it was good enough for now. “Can I hug you?” By the way they tensed up he expected a ‘No’ but they nodded and literally melted into his arms. When they finally stopped sobbing and shaking, they lifted their shirt for him to view their whole back. With their reassurance and a lot of patience Cadan started addressing all the other wounds.

“I´ll give you some privacy to clean and change. Just meet us in the kitchen whenever you´re ready.” With that he headed to talk to his partner about everything he just learned about their uninvited guest.

#an uninvited guest #whump #whump writing #whumpee #caretaker #villain #my writing #tw scars #tw gunshot wound #tw whip marks #tw past captivity #tw past torture #tw wound treatment #tw stitches

[aseasonwithclarasblog]

Victoria: Whumper in Training

Eyo, my first real written whump on tumblr?? Anyways ya, should be posting a story once a day, all of them will be at least 1,000 words. So ya, enjoy I guess :)

Week 5 of Jack’s Captivity

tw: mentions of past training and trauma to poor jack, wishing for pain, inflicting self pain, lots of knife play, screaming, self-blaming, blood, emotional manipulation, physical manipulation

Previous // ~ Jack Masterlist ~

~~~~~~~~~~

Victoria was a shadow. Her pure black hair, the way she’d creep around her house, everything about her was this weird kind of scary. Another thing she and Jack had in common was how they could make themselves silent.

And Jack was realizing more and more every day how much he was really starting to hate her.

Hating how she’d sneak up on him constantly. Hating how every game she forced him to play ended with him being the one in pain. Hating how he was starting to remember what his trainers had been trying to make him forget.

He did not like pain.

But he wanted it. His body wanted and craved pain.

'I know it hurts 2398462. You’re doing wonderfully, stay still now. Poor thing, you want more, don’t you? Now keep crying… there. You look beautiful just like that.'

He was a paradox of emotions and every time he was bad it ended in whipping, cutting, and inevitably the last thing he wanted to do. Scream.

He hated screaming. It made people look at him, and it had his voice start running raw and then everything in his throat burned. He could bandage his arms but he couldn’t bandage his voice. If only he could.

Randy would make him scream for hours until he couldn’t breathe. As much as he hated it, now he was used to screaming.

But in this mansion things were different.

He wasn’t allowed to scream.

Jack was trained to use his body’s natural instinct. Now he and Victoria were trying to untrain him.

It was impossible.

And only because Victoria hated when he screamed. Because it woke up the others since she still hadn’t found a place where she could abuse him privately.

When he screamed the small slitting cuts she left on his arms turned her knives deep into his skin. He’d just scream more.

That’s when the whip got switched from the normal one to the dangerous one, which had the small shards of rocks and glass on the end. He’d just scream more.

That’s when her threats became a reality.

And he couldn’t stop screaming.

He was trying so hard, and yet none of his work was paying off in the slightest.

So he had no idea how his body and mind were still holding up. The only defense he could use was hiding in Lily’s room every hour she was awake.

Of course Lily didn’t know he was hiding, she simply thought he liked spending time with her. And that was true, but Victoria wouldn’t accept the fact he liked having the young child as a friend. Victoria would mock and torture him for hiding, sometimes for hours after her little sister had gone to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You wouldn’t dare tell Lily about our fun little games, now, would you?” Victoria pouted at him as he stood perfectly still, looking down at the floor so he couldn’t see her face.

Her grin was sickening, there was nothing friendly about it. And she was holding her favorite knife to his throat, then slowly trailing the tip up his jaw, the pressure was just enough not to the skin, but it still stung. When he didn’t answer she placed the flat end against his cheek. Slowly twisting it so the sharp end was out pushing down the faintest bit, her eyes lighting in amusement at the blood beading at the end of her knife.

“N-no Miss.” He answered her in a soft voice, about to push his face into the knife to inflict more pain on himself, but she pulled it back before he could. He frowned a little at her before looking away. He felt sad, the emotion itself made him nauseous.

She chuckled. “Alright. Sit.” She smirked as he sat on the floor, he almost always obeyed her, he had to, and part of him wanted to.

The other part of him wanted to grab that knife and drive it into her skin instead of his.

“Come now on your knees. There you are.” She searched in her dresser before pulling out some thick white rope. “Fooound it!” She laughed as she tied his hands behind his back, wrapping them around his ankles so he couldn’t move from the position on his knees, bowing before her. “You know… my mother likes you enough to keep you. You know why?~”

He shook his head, shuddering at the sing-song tone in his ears as she took his shirt off with the knife, ripping open where the sleeves and collar were connected by fabric. Feeling the fabric trying to hold onto his back. His chest now being exposed to her made his cheeks burn in shame.

“Heh. Smile for me ‘Jack’.” She chuckled while tilting her head. He only frowned more, looking straight into her gaze. “Aw. Usually so compliant. But today, you seem a bit… defiant.” She laughed softly at her little rhyme.

Jack didn’t laugh. He hadn’t laughed since-

“And you never talk either.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Were you trained like that? Stupid ‘don’t speak unless spoken too’?” She kneeled in front of him.

He nodded slowly as she carefully rested the knife against his shoulder. “Mmm. Push against it.”

He did so. Stiffening as he looked as blood started dripping down his arm.

Why are you listening to her, stop hurting yourself!

It feels good.

It hurts.

“Mmm. More. Punish yourself darrrling.” She smirked as he nodded reluctantly, pushing against it as his eyes watered and he started making pained hisses. Shaking his head while soft whimpers came out of his mouth without his consent. “Pathetic. You want it to stop?”

He nodded pitifully, whining softly.

“Then. Beg.”

He gulped. “Pl-please Victo-”

He gasped as her fist collided with his face, hitting a bruise from the day before and making him tense.

“That is NOT what you call me Jack Jack.” She growled in his ear.

“Miss- Master pl-please.” He gasped while feeling the blood rolling down his arm,

Don’t look away. Don’t pull away.

“Please. What?” She whispered, her smirk creeping back onto her face. She was awful at hiding her enjoyment of his pain.

“Pleas- please sto-st-stop hurt… hurting m-me.”

She hummed while rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “But you’re the one who is pushing back against my knife.” She put it to his other shoulder. He shifted into it automatically and whined. “Seeee.”

“C-can’t… can’t help i-it.” He whispered, his eyes held all the begging she needed, and yet she had broken eye contact, not wanting to give him mercy. That wasn’t the purpose of today’s game.

Today’s game was just to watch him crumble, and so far, she was pleased with her work.

~~~~~~~~~~

Written on June 2nd, 2021

Next // ~ Jack Masterlist ~

#Jack hates his voice #Victoria is a horrible sister #you know the drill #tw past truama #tw past torture #tw self harm? #knife #tw knives #tw knife play #tw self loathing #tw training #tw emotional manipulation #screaming #crying #poor Jack #hahahahaha #loser #whump #whump drabble #whumpblr #whump stuff #emotional whump #whump writing #whump scenario #whumper #whump fic

[nerdpoe]

In the Shadow of Speculation Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, Ao3

The chapter TW blood tw broken bones tw description of a flashback abled verbiage tw self hatred tw (mild) forced parenthood equivalent (but in a ghost culture way.)

Ellie peeked at her older brother from behind her physics textbook.

Danny was surrounded by notes, a treatise on ancient magic’s uses in modern medicine spread out in front of him. He’d been studying it longer than she had, and showed no signs of stopping.

Frostbite had not only been delighted to teach Danny medicine, but he’d taken it so seriously that apparently, her older brother had involuntarily signed up for basically ghost college.

Ellie felt a thrill at being able to share the experience with him.

She knew it had bugged him, to miss out on going to college at the same time as his friends.

But!

She was now going to college at the same time as Danny! So it was up to her and whoever she chose to share the college experience with him!

She’d drag Danny to all the keggers! She just…had to find them first. The one’s without drugs, or the ending with a shoot-out thing.

“Ellie,” Danny interrupted her thoughts, and she realized she’d been staring directly into his eyes for a bit, “How about we take a break? I found a recipe for those cranberry-almond bread crisps things you like from Costco.”

Ellie felt her jaw drop.

There was a recipe for that?

Before she could pull herself together enough to answer, Danny was already laughing and standing up.

“It’s the first batch I’ve ever made, but you seem to like them enough to tell me if I did it wrong.”

Ellie quite literally tripped over her own feet following him to the kitchen, only to stare reverently at the tupperware he presented to her.

Then she dug in, of course, because her job was to taste test and she took that job very seriously.

The score was: perfect.

They weren’t exactly the same, but they were homemade, which made them better automatically.

Ellie sat on the counter and enjoyed her snack as Danny puttered around the kitchen, making actual lunch.

His big brother instincts hit hard when they hit, and it looked like Ellie was going to have some leftovers going home with her. Danny tended to…overcompensate.

Which was stupid, because his ages didn’t change him being her bro.

“…You know you’re my brother no matter what, right?” Ellie asked between mouthfuls of baked goods, “Like, I don’t care what age you are or what form you’re in; you’re my brother.”

Danny slowed down.

Then he started for the flour.

Ah, fuck. He was going to bake away his feelings again.

“Danny wait, please, I only have so much room in my pantry and fridge-“

~~~~~~

Alfred paused in front of the hallway mirror.

Mask firmly in place? Check. Amulet against scrying? Check. Special jacket meant to act as a talisman against offensive magic? Check.

He was as ready as he would ever be to enter the same room as the Justice League Dark.

The butler pushed the trolley into the elevator and began his descent.

He had to admit to himself, he was…curious. Normally, Master Bruce did not allow the Justice League Dark into the Cave.

It wasn’t his place, he knew that, but something quite serious must have happened for them to be allowed so close to Master Bruce’s home.

In fact, his employer hadn’t even had time to specify if it was the entire Justice League Dark or just a few people from it. Master Bruce had just dropped everything-quite literally-and made for the Cave.

The elevator made a soft chime as it reached it’s destination, and the door opened.

Alfred pushed out the trolley, completely silent.

It was meant for the cave; cushioned wheels, rubber padding to absorb the little bumps.

Which meant that Constantine had absolutely no idea Alfred was standing behind him, waiting for him to stop talking so he could offer refreshments.

“Bats, you don’t bloody understand; our entire dimension was nearly wiped out!”

“I would love to understand. You won’t explain. A text message saying the world was about to end was not explaining, it was fear-mongering. This entire conversation could have been an email.”

Constantine threw his hands up.

“Phantom was holdin’ the Infinite Realms back! An entire dimension, Batman! It’s denizens are built for combat, and if Phantom decides to turn from small-time villain theft to Actual World Ending events, that’s it! End game! Is that email material for you?”

Master Bruce grunted.

“Five years ago, mate, five bleedin’ years ago your government nearly buggered all of us. So yeah, alright, allow me to explain; how did this slip by you? You? The great Detective?”

“We were unaware-“

“Mate I cannot begin to explain how little that matters to spirits and demons strong enough to be gods.”

“Constantine, we are taking measures to ensure this does not happen again.”

“We need to do more than that, Bats; I’m sayin’ we need to…to do something to get their trust! Get on Phantom’s good side, turn ‘em to the side of good, whatever it-“

“Phantom is on the Justice League Roster, Constantine. He’s on the list of potential allies in emergencies, and we have already established a good relationship with him. He’s not actually a villain, he’s a trainer for young heroes. You would know this if you kept up with that list.”

The ‘like you’re supposed to’ went unsaid.

Constantine opened his mouth. Closed it. Pulled out his phone and frantically pulled something up.

Dropped the phone.

Stood there staring at his own hand as he processed what he realized everyone had known but him.

Alfred took advantage of his distraction to place a cup of tea into the man’s hand.

“Perhaps you should sit down, sir,” the Butler suggested.

Constantine drank the entire cup of tea in one go and sat on the floor.

~~~~~~

Dan crossed his arms and stood his ground, careful to keep his face blank as he stared at Danny.

“You know you can’t do this in human form,” Dan sighed, “So the costume needs to be for the ghost one.”

“I think I can do great in human form-“

“It’s not healthy to keep your other state of being locked away, Runt. Plus, it’ll make it a hell of a lot harder to pinpoint who you are.”

“…I don’t want to.”

Dan felt steam hiss out of his nostrils, and tried to reign in his temper.

Ellie stepped in while he calmed down.

“C’mon, Danny! Please? Please, please, please? It’s super cute c’mon!”

Danny’s face turned red as he tried to deny that, covering his face as he sank down on the couch.

Dan carefully did not mention that Ellie was…kinda right. Dan was possibly biased due to fucked up ghost instinct, though.

“Danny,” Dan said quietly, “Robin was thirteen when I squared off against him, and he was really the only threat out of all those kid heroes. It’s fine; no one will bat an eye.”

This was important. The little Twerp would get more to feed his obsession if he was in ghost form while he did it, and it would give him time to actually be in his other form.

Both things he’d been trying to avoid.

But Dan was, as usual, willing to be the Bad Guy for Little Him.

Danny’s face grew redder.

The kid sighed.

A flash of light filled the room.

And a twelve year old looking ghost kid in a hospital shift sat in his place. The prosthetic, meant for an adult man, flopped to the side, unable to stay on the leg far too small for it.

Ellie made a soft, cooing trill and started patting at his hair.

Dan bravely held his own chirp in.

Danny, for his part, glared at his hands.

“Alright kid, let’s get you suited up,” Dan said after composing himself, instinct screaming at him to coddle the Twerp.

He wouldn’t do that, naturally.

It wasn’t like Danny was actually his kid, and neither of them would know how to recover from a lapse like that.

He turned away from the pouting kid on the cough and went into said kids bedroom instead, finding the prosthetic for his ghost form hidden in the back of his closet.

Dan frowned.

Hidden away like it was, that shit was indicating Little him hadn’t even tried to transform since he’d gotten to Gotham.

That…was so unhealthy. It was probably going to set back his recovery if he kept it up.

He’d have to ask Red Hood to keep tabs on how often the new Medic-hero went out, so he’d be able to chart how often he was transforming.

He knew the kid had issues with…well, all of it. His time as a core had reversed his age, and he’d only stopped regressing a year after Dan had left him with Frostbite. As far as Danny knew, he’d fallen unconscious a sixteen year old and woken up as a ten year old.

His mortal body had continued to age, chained by the constraints of the Timeline. So when he did transform, he was going from one form to a drastically different one.

Dan knew that the changes were probably extremely uncomfortable.

Dan also knew that he’d pushed far enough that night, convincing Tiny to transform against his will.

So he opted to say nothing about it to Danny, instead focusing on attaching the tiny prosthetic to the tiny leg.

“Decided to go apocalyptic style,” Dan hummed, testing the edges to ensure it was aligned properly, “Modified gas mask, only on the lower face, goggles optional, basic kevlar, medical satchel from the Far Frozen, all black, no identifiers.”

“Yeah, about that; are you sure you don’t wanna put like, a red cross or something?” Ellie cut in, her patting stopping as she leaned over their tiniest sibling.

Danny shook his head, a pout that Dan pretended not to notice on his face.

“No; identifiers work both ways, villains would be more likely to target me.” 

“Smart; keep them off your back long enough to move people out of the way. And what’s the plan if you get dragged into a fight?” Dan asked mildly, leaning back and looking up into a face that was far too young.

“End it.” Danny’s face was far too young to look that serious and dead-eyed, and Dan’s core lurched at letting a weak and injured ghostling free to enter into fights already.

“Not in a way that’ll hurt you, though,” Ellie sang as she danced towards the kitchen to raid Danny’s fridge.

The serious look faded, and Dan’s core eased a little.

“Don’t worry, I’ll dip as soon as I can.”

Dan nodded and stood up, reaching down to help the kid up.

“Well, get the fuck out of your own house then. Time to get to work.”

Danny gave him a shit-eating grin and tugged the gas mask into place, already fading from view.

~~~~~~

Danny floated down the streets of Crime Alley, not even bothering to hide himself with invisibility.

He’d already performed triage on bystanders in a gang fight, set a muggers broken leg and ensured he knew the physical therapy he’d need to prevent it from becoming a chronic issue, and had gone over pretty much every homeless kid checking for lice or sickness, and treating it as he saw signs of either.

He was loathe to admit it, but Dan had been right. Doing acts of ‘protection’ while in ghost form fed his core far more than doing it in human form.

It was just.

He just.

His hands were too small.

His voice was too high.

He was too vulnerable.

The shadows were too big, too dark, and he hated it when they turned off the lights, he could never see what they’d done to him this time-

“Hey, new supes-you’s a medic, right?”

Danny blinked, and he was standing on a sidewalk in Crime Alley while a concerned Prostitute stared down at him.

He shook himself.

“Yea, do you need treatment?” Danny winced a bit as his voice cracked, and he clutched at his bag a little tighter.

Her eyes bored into his own as she searched for something, before her expression got softer.

“Me’n some of th’ girls were boutta turn in, but Joanne had some rough Johns t’night. Need some bones set and some stitches. You game?”

Danny tilted his head, assessing her.

She was not lying.

He allowed his body to deny gravity and floated up, nodding.

The woman led him to one of the better hotels in Crime Alley, and Danny caught a glimpse of a rather large man shouting at some other men.

From the pieces of conversation he could gather, that man was Joanne’s pimp, and he was ultra-pissed that she’d been hurt.

The woman in front of him gave a short whistle, and when the man’s head turned towards her she held a finger to her lips.

Her other hand made some sort of subtle gesture, but it wasn’t ASL and Danny had no idea what it could have meant.

It must have meant some variation of ‘calm down’, though, as the man stopped yelling, and even went so far as to keep a respectful distance from Danny as he was tugged past older man.

The yelling didn’t start up again until the door to the hotel closed behind him.

Then Danny was taken to Joanne, and…she could probably do with a hospital instead of some kid hero.

Multiple lacerations, visibly broken arm and fingers-it wasn’t pretty. But Danny had seen worse.

His right hand made an involuntary fist before he stretched out his fingers.

“She ain’t comf’table with hospitals,” Danny’s guide explained quietly, “If we don’ treat her here, she’ll jus’ treat it herself at home, an’ we all know that won’t end well.”

Danny let out a small breath through his nose and stepped forward.

“Hello, I’m just a medic, but what are you okay with me treating tonight?”

~~~~~~

There was a new hero in the Alley.

Well, sort of.

The kid was clearly a Meta of some sort, but he was only focused on medical treatment.

Jason was also pretty sure he wasn’t a Super.

He’d know that glowing white hair anywhere, and the kids blue-ish complexion and pointy ears?

Nah, this was clearly Phantom’s kid.

Shortstack was older than he’d thought he would be, but Jason wasn’t an ectobiology expert; he had no idea how Infinite Realms Beings worked.

But this one wasn’t Phantom, that much he was sure of.

He felt the temperature drop, just enough to be unnatural.

“Your kids doin’ good work.”

Phantom hummed in agreement, slowly filtering into the visible spectrum beside Jason.

“Why Gotham, though?”

Phantom tensed.

Jason waited.

He was patient like that.

“The kid’s…sick. He can’t fight like I can, not yet.”

Jason couldn’t help but feel relief at that admission, if he was being honest with himself.

“But he’s a protection spirit. He has to protect, or he’ll do the ghost equivalent of starve.”

“Okay, alright; so have him help people and protect them as something that wouldn’t draw too much negative attention.” Jason nodded, starting to see the full picture.

“Yeah, and Gotham’s got uh…good ghost juice. For ghosts. You wouldn’t really get it, it’s a ghost thing.”

Jason turned to face the intimidating War Machine of an anti-hero, only to find the man wearing a perfectly serious expression.

He’d really just let that abomination of words tumble out of his mouth with a completely straight face.

“Fine, I get what you’re really here for. We’ll watch out for him.”

“Bats might have an issue.”

“Fuck Batman, a medic is a good idea.”

“No, I was saying if he had an issue that you should point him to me.”

Jason let out a wordless hum, watching the tiny head of glowing white hair bobbing on the streets below them.

“You think you could win against the Bat?” 

“In my previous world I not only won against him, but I murdered his friends and family. Yes, I can win against the Bat.” Phantom drawled, truth in every word he said.

Truth, and regret.

“Damn, threat received loud and clear. I’ll tell Batman where he can take his complaints, then.”

They tailed the kid for a bit, and Jason watched as Heather broke the kid out of a flashback on her way to Leslie's.

Heather, smart woman she was, recognized what was happening and did what Heather was prone to do; take immediate steps to help someone in need.

She distracted the kid.

Flashed the sign for ‘inside voices’ at Cody to make him shut up, and got the kid off the streets and away from those who would have taken advantage of Phantom’s protege’s lapse in concentration.

Phantom was a tense livewire next to him, energy shimmering at his fingertips.

“He started out in Crime Alley, Phantom, and we watch out for our own. He’ll be safer here than he would in Bristol.”

Phantom forced himself to nod, and with a deep, shaking breath the energy dissipated.

“…I guess I’ll just have to leave him to it, then.”

Jason watched the man turn away and leave stiffly, and found himself wishing Bruce had enough trust to do the same for his own children.

Then he shoved the thought from his mind and turned his attention back to the hotel; he had a toddler ghost to babysit.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phanfic #in the shadow of speculation #finally wrote the next part #lmfao i did not realize how much time had passed fml #allusions to past torture #blood tw #broken bones tw #forced parenthood tw #description of a flashback #abled verbiage tw #self hatred tw #long post

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

31st Story

Part 2

TW: Captivity, implied past torture, blood mention, restraints, mistrust, starvation mention, defiant whumpee, corrupt system, knife

Heyyy! Long-time no see. I blame college 100% because it takes up all my time, seriously. Happy New Year tho 💙

Villain could tell himself he was already used to the cold, hard embrace of the dull rock of his cell, to the claustrophobia-inducing lack of windows, to the fact that the only times he ever got to see the light was when someone walked in to beat him senseless, a feat made incredibly easy with the help of the chains that shackled his wrists and ankles, not allowing for much movement.

He could pretend that being covered in blood and filth, dazed and starving, was nothing to him, that the maddening urge to find out what time it was wasn't gnawing at him torturously.

"In here, wishful thinking is all you are capable of," a sunken-faced, old prisoner had told him before he was thrown into his personal hellhole. He hadn't said anything, but he'd believed the old hag to be weak and hopeless, and thus so was her sentiment.

Right now, all he wondered was if he'd break even faster than that woman might have. The villain screwed his eyes shut, hoping it would stop the chain of thoughts poisoning his mind, but all that did was make him think clearer, every disturbing image he tried so desperately to expel growing clearer and more vivid by the moment.

It was bad enough handling the physical pain, where every time he so much as shifted his form slightly, the tormented muscles in his back would scream in protest. But the physical side was tolerable, compared to being left at the mercy of his mind; a cruel, sinister thing.

So consumed he was in his own reverie, he hadn't even noticed as the door to his cell was unlocked, at least not until the light skirting around the corner had him snapping his eyes open and sitting up.

"This doesn't look good on you," a silky, almost serpentine voice called out.

"Superhero?" he asked, despising the note of trepidation in his voice.

"No. Just her lacklustre twin," she scoffed.

"Vigilante," he deduced with a slight fall of his shoulders in relief. It's not that he believed Vigilante would treat him well, it's just that no one could rival Superhero in cruelty.

"Still ever the genius," she responded dryly.

"What do you want?" he asked, almost desperate. If she was here to torment him, he wanted her to get over with it. It was becoming progressively more difficult to bear the state in which he was in, the one chock-full of waiting and thinning patience, of hoping the pain would start so it could end, that this time would pass faster.

Except it never did.

"It's strange seeing someone normally so high and mighty like this," she attested, dodging his question.

The older version of him would have let out a frustrated snarl and cussed her out for annoying him, but now all he could do was bite his tongue and stare at her with his new resting face, broken and defeated.

"Well, I'm not here to hurt you," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

That was a response, albeit an indirect one. And of course, she wasn't here to hurt him. She was here to make sure he was comfortable, that he was enjoying his five-star stay in this resort in hell.

Sucks to have an army of enemies and not a single semblance of a friend.

He and Vigilante hadn't really had any direct bad blood, but he was a villain locked up in here, so by default, he was supposed to be her enemy, right? It didn't matter who walked in here or whether they knew him or not. They just loved to see him break, to see him, once so relentlessly powerful, reduced to less than nothing. Perhaps it brought them a sort of sick satisfaction, but he didn't know much about satisfaction anymore to judge.

"I'm going to get you out of here," she said casually, like promising him the impossible was some sort of small punishment, nothing to tear himself up about. Maybe she could rival her sister in cruelty.

Without warning, a hysterical laugh escaped his throat, only for him to bite his lip and stop abruptly, trying to clamp a hand over his mouth only for him to remember he was chained up.

Vigilante's face fell, and his own had silent tears streaming down it. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, as though bricks were raining down on his shoulders and crushing his bones into nothing. His whole being seemed to itch with dread.

"Villain?" Vigilante called out, looking a mixture of confused and horrified.

"Just get over with it! Torture me until the floor runs red with my blood, tell me how death is a mercy above vermin like myself, and tell me to take it with a smile. Hit me harder when I can't bring myself to do it. Hit me until I feel all the pain of death but never attain it. Remember my current words as defiance, as another crime I've committed. I think watching me be humbled to the nothing I truly am will entertain you as any show would," he spat, only for regret to colour his features just as fast.

"Damn it. Villain, I don't want to do. . .any of this to you," Vigilante started, careful, trying for a semblance of gentle, something she was never particularly good at. "Like I said, I'm going to get you out of here," she continued again, hoping the stern tone indicated she was serious and not somehow going to torture him.

She'd never particularly liked him, mainly because he'd always been ice-cold, calculated to a point he seemed inhuman at times, no emotion whatsoever showing up on his face, besides a cool smugness. And by virtue of all the terrible things he'd done, all the blood on his hands. And yet, he was far from the worst thing out there, and most definitely not the villain in her story.

"And let's pretend you're telling the truth, which is completely fine by me because any mercy I've ever had here has always been a pretence, a figment of my imagination, you know. What could you possibly gain from this?" He raised an eyebrow, bearing a small resemblance to his usual self. Well, at least there was a slight amount of fight left in him, even if he was clearly holding back tears now.

But the villain's question wasn't completely outlandish. Vigilante did want something from him, but it wasn't a favour he would ever come to hate. "I need your help. My sister may seem like the goddamn tooth fairy to those who don't know better, but we know what her regime is really doing. This isn't about fighting crime, it's about her insatiable addiction to power."

"And where do I belong here?" The villain's voice still held the same disbelieving tone, his shoulders managing to tense even further.

"You're one of the few people who challenged her, Villain. And as much as it pains me to say it, you're a good strategist," she explained, even though she knew she'd barely convinced him in the slightest.

"I can't be the only one fitting that description, but I can be the only one owing you a favour too," he answered. Even if he didn't look half as confident, half as untouchable as before, the criminal was still just as clever. But it also meant he wasn't believing her anytime soon. Still, he wasn't wrong. The villain may not have smelled like roses all the time, but he'd be loyal to make sure they were even; a man of his word.

"What's it gonna be, Villain? Come with me or stay here?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest, growing impatient.

Well, it didn't make sense for her to give him a choice if she was going to torture him, but sense no longer governed things in his mind, letting a fearful apprehension replace it, no matter how humiliating. The choice could easily be an illusion, another cruel joke in this comedy skit from the filthiest parts of hell.

But it could be a chance, and he was desperate. So desperate he'd risk feeling even further degraded when she laughed in his face and put him through whatever torment she'd have planned.

"Fine," he answered, looking up at her with trepidation in his eyes. He could already feel the regret tasting like salt on his tongue and the burn of acid at the back of his throat he recognised as shame.

So when the sound of his chains being unlocked rang in his ears, and the vigilante helped him up, the feeling of surprise was palpable.

"I just need to handcuff you while they can see us," she explained, noticing how slowly the villain nodded, mistrust still burning in his eyes.

She didn't like how weightless he seemed against her, barely able to walk. She hadn't fought him much, but she clearly remembered that while his frame was somewhat slender, the villain's build still used to be athletic. It was no surprise he'd deteriorated, but that didn't make his fate any less cruel.

"I'm moving him to the other facility," she announced, practically dragging the half-starved villain with her, the only response being curt nods from the guards.

They were lucky that no one here would dare question Superhero and by default, her sister, if they could even tell the difference between both.

And sure enough, there was an entry documented into the other facility, done with the help of a few handsomely paid workers. And while Superhero wouldn't buy into the lie for long, it would at least make sure she didn’t notice immediately that something was up.

✨️Break✨️

The drive to Vigilante's house was almost torturously long and reeking of the tension of two people who weren't used to each other. The villain ran his fingers over his wrists, now free of handcuffs, but they still hurt. All of him hurt, a constant, dull pain that he was almost used to, but that didn't mean he didn't miss the times where he could remember moments without aches all over his body.

That was only the least of it anyway.

"I think you'd want to clean up," the vigilante had suggested when they'd got to her house.

Instead of an off-hand "yeah" like he'd meant to, the first words that foolishly came tumbling out of his mouth were: "I can?"

This wasn't an option they gave him back there, and soon enough he'd stopped caring entirely.

"Oh," Vigilante had responded, giving him a solemn look. "I mean, yes, of course you can," she corrected hastily.

He nodded, quite literally shoving himself into the bathroom and swallowing down the awkward shame in his throat.

He'd grown so accustomed to pain that he'd barely even noticed the sting of the hot water on his open, practically fresh wounds, or how the shower water underneath him turned a dull pink. He was a lot more focused on how his sore muscles relaxed with the heat, how he seemed to get lighter with all the dirt off him, good sensations having become foreign to him in the time of his captivity.

He walked out to find a change of clothes (his clothes) on the bed in the room outside, catching his reflection in the mirror, bruises lining his cheekbones and jaw and heavy, dark circles underneath his eyes. The villain simply ignored the old memories of himself taking the time to style his hair and care for his skin, his mind hardwired for survival, looking around the room for anything he could use in case he had to defend himself.

Not that Vigilante was stupid enough for that.

Still, if she wished to hurt him, she could've done it faster, could've done it earlier. Maybe the villain wouldn't trust her blindly, but so far, he hated her less bitterly than he hated everyone else.

"How'd you get these?" he asked, walking out, looking down at the black zip-up hoodie and black sweats.

Vigilante shrugged. "From your place."

"You broke into my- whatever." It wasn't the strangest part about the situation now. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I think you need to rest," she suggested.

And she was entirely correct, given his exhaustion and how the shower had made him somewhat sleepy, so he nodded his head, walking into "his" room and waiting until she walked up to her room, waiting until he could walk out and check if she'd slept, and once he was sure, he walked into the kitchen, picking up a knife and bringing it to his room.

The villain knew it was scummy, but he wasn't about to risk being hurt again, and if the vigilante truly had good intentions, the knife would never be put to use. Still, the villain had managed to fall into a fitful sleep, still better than any night he spent curled up on a cold, hard floor.

Trust is never easy, especially for those who have been hurt one too many times. But people were not made to live forever encased in solitude, a safe option to the blind and foolish, but never a permanent solution. And while taking a risk in times of suffering might seem like a wretched fate, sometimes it is the lifeline you need to breathe again.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @genuinelythioehat-is-whump @ghostofnorth

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

#prompt #hero x villain #vigilante x villain #superhero #evil superhero #morally grey vigilante #corrupt system #tw blood #tw implied past torture #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw defiant whumpee #tw anxiety #tw knife #heroes and villains community #natalia's writing #original fiction #writers on tumblr #whump #villain whumpee #vigilante caretaker #rescue #whumpee x caretaker #hurt/comfort #hmmm might write more #villain is a pathetic meow meow #i love him

[befuddled-calico-whump]

(remaining panels under the cut for gore + implied noncon)

Test Track AU (T$$ AU Masterlist)

previous /// next (cw: injection)

(suggested by anon! not adding the tag list to this one just in case)

#🥺🥺 #future emotional recovery is getting rougher by the day #t$$ sahota #t$$ test track au #i don't add the tag list to the heavy gore ones because I'm pretty sure it just jumps you straight to the post #past the cut #and with writing that's fine cause you can read the warnings first but it's harder with art ahaha #tw noncon #implied noncon #implied nudity #gore #whump art #torture #impaled #stabbed #blood #stress position #whumpy art

[aftgficrec]

hi I'm so excited I caught you guys open :D

I was wondering if you guys could find some fics where Neil brings up his past in casual conversation or his past gets brought up because of something he said or did

Also I've read a lot of the older soulmate fics where they can feel each other's pain or communicate telepathically and stuff like that but was wondering if there are any new ones :)

Ty u so much <333

There is so much material here I decided to split it into 2 parts, one with fics about Neil’s past, and one devoted to soulmate aus.  Enjoy! - S

references to Neil’s past:

people Neil met on the run here

Foxes learn about Neil's past here

The Foxes react to Neil’s life here

The Foxes react to Neil’s scars here

The Foxes react to Mary’s abuse here

videos of neil on the run here

Neil’s secrets unravel here

Neil says ‘it’s fine I’ve had worse’ here

Neil shows off his knife skills here

‘The Bet’ here 

‘here I am, there you go again’ here

‘I'm not broken (I'm made for a mosaic)’ and ‘More Afterthoughts, Chapter 39’ here

‘arrivals/departures’ here 

‘TFC minifics...’ Ch 23 here

‘heavy hands, heavy hearts’ here

‘"I've endured far worse"’ here

‘it whistles through the ghosts still left behind’ here

you may also like:

Neil with languages/accents here

Neil with languages/accents 2 here

‘No straighter path than to struggle’ here

Neil also shows off his knife and language skills in ‘I Hope You Lie To Me’ here (ch. 9)

Neil’s past:

Andrew, I'm fine by AceSirenSinger [Rated T, 2081 words, complete, 2023]

Andrew passes through the door into the ensuite bathroom, and he freezes an instant before he understands why. The bathroom tile is smudged red, just so. Someone bled here, and then wiped it, too quickly. Andrew wants to call for Neil, but he is suddenly unsure if he is alone in his apartment.

tw: nightmares, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: knives, tw: violence

Killer Bunny by godless_writer [Rated T, 6661 words, complete, 2023]

Neil started his second year in college thinking his past was behind him. His father was dead, Riko was dead, he was no longer running – nothing left to hide from. At least that is what he thought before six FBI agents barged into his team’s practice one day. Or The team finds out Neil had to kill some of his father’s men while on the run.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: panic attacks

Bound for Error by confusedtoadd [Rated M, 22759 words, incomplete, last updated July 2023]

“You claim you’ve left your truth bare, yet you still lie, interesting don’t you think Nathaniel?” Neil was paralyzed, stuck between begging for her to stop and strangling her. They were a mix of his parents' wishes, his father's anger was bubbling over, his mother's survival instincts charged his legs with vigor. “Perhaps I should have stepped in sooner. No matter, they will know the truth soon, you did promise no more running, Nathaniel.” OR The foxes react to Neils life, pre-canon included.

tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt, tw: implied/referenced suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced self harm,  tw: violence, tw: blood & gore, tw: torture, tw: abuse, tw: psychological abuse, tw: panic attacks

Secrets by The_stars_ship_us [Rated T, 1265  words, complete, 2023]

Matt sees Neil's scars for the first time and Neil wakes up, still sleepy, and feels comfortable and safe enough to speak in his true accent

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: scars

The Best That You Can Hope For (is to die in your sleep) by Major_816 [Not Rated, 10840 words, complete, 2022]

The first time O’Malley saw the kid was in a low-level underground gambling ring, walls crawling with asbestos and next to every bastard inside armed with something sharp if not something packed with warped metal and gunpowder.  He couldn’t have been more than thirteen, but he surveyed the crowd of the room with years more experience than he should have. There were scars cutting across exposed bits of skin, sick looking in the light of the place and stretching hotel-bible-page-thin over crooked bones.  He was a wispy thing. Nothing more than a scrap of a boy stitched together. O’Malley was half-convinced a strong wind might blow him over, but the kid turned, those quick and clever eyes burning across the room and O’Malley could recognize that sort of fight instinct.  He saw him again half a year later in Northern Florida.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: scars, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation

Broken bones by All_for_the_andreil [Rated T, 1126 words, complete, 2021]

Neil gets injured during a game and freaks out. Andrew finds out what exactly happened to Neil in Baltimore.

tw: implied/referenced torture

I guess I can drop the accent now by poly_pr1nce [Rated M (we say T), 495 words, complete, 2020, locked]

Neil reveals the final thing he's been hiding about himself after the Foxes win against the Ravens and Riko's death

...'ah yes, my shirt will cover this'  by @jingerhead [tumblr, 2021]

This prompt is great, I've read some angsty fics about Neil getting hurt and they're great BUT I love the idea of Neil getting stabbed and he's just like.....'ah yes, my shirt will cover this' and everyone notices right away. I think something super angst or something more lighthearted would be equally great haha!

tw: injuries

Art

what’s life on the run like? art by @meaucrow

Thinking about all he went through trying to survive art by @microolli

#fic #Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard #Matt Boyd & Neil Josten #Neil Josten & OC #universe: pre canon #universe: post canon #theme: Neil's past #theme: languages/accents #theme: hurt/comfort #theme: protectiveness #theme: injuries #theme: friendship #theme: angst with a happy ending #theme: fluff & angst #theme: foxes react #theme: bamf!neil #theme: flashbacks #tw: violence #tw: suicide attempt #tw: torture #tw: dissociation #tw: abuse #tw: injuries #tw: panic attacks #tw: nightmares #tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #tw: implied/referenced child abuse #tw: implied/referenced self harm #tw: scars #tw: implied/referenced murder

[fallenwhumpee]

Traitor

• Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Masterlist •

Warnings: This is uuuh... heavier than my usual, and a bit quick in pacing? Probably. Mentioned torture, broken ribs, dysfunctional family, sickfic, intimate whumper, self-destructive behaviour, implied past abuse (in form of training).

"We don't need a babysitter!"

"Hush, you will wake them up."

Leader didn't stir, still pretending to sleep in the uncomfortable position they were stuck. They didn't mean to stay up, they had been awake for longer than they could remember, but the sleep just didn't come.

"They can't just decide for us or tell us what to do. We're not a bunch of newbies," Youngest continued, now more silent.

They... their intention wasn't restrict anyone. They were given to this team because of their ages being close, but even after months together, they felt like an outsider. At least now they knew the reason.

"I know you're still upset for them letting Villain come with us, and I am, too, but this is not the best time to talk. They just did what you wanted with less violence," Medic cut in, more silent.

"Better," Right Hand scoffed. They must be the one who warned Youngest. "But I believe there is another reason. We don't make reports anymore, so who knows which lies Leader fed the agency with? And..."

"And what?"

"There are rumours of a traitor," they finished.

Leader couldn't stop themselves from drawing a sharp breath, but it left unnoticed.

"You think Leader is..." Youngest whispered. "But that's not possible! It's true that they're too serious, but we've been together for so long."

"Yet we know nothing about them," someone finished.

"Leader knew we had a past with Villain, yet Leader let them come our home. They trust Villain for some reason, but..."

"It's concerning. They wouldn't team up with someone tortured them, but we can't be sure, " Medic completed, hesitant.

"We don't know if Whumper did. None of us saw."

Leader didn't know what they did to earn Right Hand's hatred.

"I patched them up myself!"

"Can't it be faked?"

Nothing could've broken Leader's heart more than the deep silence. Leader only wanted to be— what they wanted wasn't important. But for the first time, they thought they could be enough for something.

They couldn't be more wrong.

And not only that, now they looked suspicious to everyone. Just perfect. One more failure to add the never-ending list. Their team distrusted them enough to think they could do such a thing.

It was their fault. They were assigned to a close-knit team, ready to be a family, but Leader was late, and they failed to close the distance and formality.

With time, Leader found themselves negotiating between the agency and the team more often than not. It took them too long to realise that they were only meant to be a bridge, never belonging to a side. It was the only role given to them from both sides. A leash to the team and someone who could get them out of trouble.

Because neither their team nor their superiors were pleased with the results. Their team was reckless, rushing everything and running blindly when one of them was in danger, ignoring everything else. And the agency was too strict, probably looking for the smallest mistake to disband them. Leader was the only thing between, and keeping the balance was starting to cost too much.

The car jolted, Leader hitting their head lightly. They groaned, faking their movements not to give away their involuntarily eavesdrop, and the others just stared at them. No one had the guts to tell all of those to Leader's face, apparently.

-•-

After a long and uncomfortable silence, they were home. They carried Villain to the infirmary without a word to the others. There was no need. Leader had forced them too much and this was the payback. Even if the team didn't think Leader was a traitor, this decision was one thing the team was not ready. It was also the first thing Leader forced them to.

"I'm not looking at them." Medic said firmly as Leader came out. Leader knew what was coming, so they let Medic breathe and waited.

"I'm not looking at them, not after all they had done."

"I just want you to make sure they're not dying." They tried with a soft voice, ignoring a headache starting to bloom in their temples.

"You weren't the one who patched Youngest after everything!" Medic paced in the room shortly, huffing with anger. "You weren't the one who held them as they woke up with nightmares!"

Leader lowered their gaze slightly.

"You weren't there when they broke down and begged us to stop the pain."

No, Leader wasn't. They had done everything to keep Youngest out of Whumper's wrath, rather successfully, but Villain had taken on Youngest a few times Leader wasn't able to take more, especially towards the end. After it, they were too busy with making sure the team was free to look after Youngest, had three meals a day, and kept agency out of their tail while recovering from—

So, no. Leader wasn't there. They had been busy.

"I should remind you that there's someone who possibly needs the same support you have once given to Youngest. But I'm not asking you to do that."

With that, Medic looked away.

"I'm just asking you if they need it. I'm sure it won't be hard to come up with a diagnosis for the meeting. That's your job, isn't it?"

"I will try," Medic answered, voice thick with embarrassment. Good. Leader could now focus on the next thing.

They went to the briefing room as Medic disappeared into the infirmary. The big screen opened with their command, the shadowy silhouettes waiting for them.

The mission report went well, only trouble being Villain. The agency suggested things Leader would never approve. Luckily, their insistence with Medic checking over Villain gave its fruits.

Medic was almost crying as they barged in and told the list of scars and wounds yet to be healed. Too similar to Youngest, they whispered to Leader. If Leader was less than collected, they would let out a long, relieved sigh that Medic wasn't going to argue with Leader's choice about Villain when they woke up. But they were not, and they kept their face straight. There was going to be time to breathe when they were locked and safe in their room.

After Medic, everyone agreed that kindness would be a better approach. Leader couldn't help but let their shoulders slump a bit, knowing they had gotten at least one side's approval.

The call dropped soon after, and Leader felt a movement behind them. Quickly turning, Medic froze on their place, a hand stretched to reach them. Medic drew back without touching, Leader rubbing their one arm subtly to ease their discomfort.

"Villain will wake up soon."

Leader nodded.

"I think it would be better if they saw you first. We had... not the best start."

That was the only apology they were going to have.

They smiled slightly. "Of course. I'll be in infirmary in a moment."

Medic took the dismissal, and Leader slumped the second they left the room. They were too tired to deal with anything, and they knew that if they left the room, another confrontation was inevitable. But this time, they had an evidence for making people understand that Villain had been a victim as much as them, if not more.

With a groan, they pushed themselves back to their feet. They gave themselves a moment to still their trembling limbs. They were going to be alright. With stable steps and even breaths, they marched to the infirmary.

"Medic," they greeted. "What do you have for me?"

"Too much, too little. We're fine, Youngest is a little unsettled, but no injuries. You would better avoid Right Hand. They are just a little overprotective of Youngest and reasonably angry because of al lof this, you know."

Leader nodded them to go on.

"For Villain, nothing broken, but so much bruises. Wrongly healed wounds... knife marks, and..."

"I do not need a full report." They cut to save Medic from telling more. Whip marks, electrocution, possibly some nerve damage. Leader recognised some of the scars. Too similar to— they had to focus. "Tell me if they will recover, and when they will wake up?"

"I did my best. And I can't tell. If you don't want me to restrain them, you should stay here. It's nearly dinner time and you know we always eat together."

"Yes, alright. I'll stay here. You enjoy your meal." They swallowed the bitterness. There was no need to get upset. They had never been 'we' with the team.

"Good. Let me know if they wake up."

Leader sat to a chair, and at some point, everything blended into each other as they felt their body weight down and pull them deeper towards the silent lullaby their mind chanted.

Blinking, they cursed themselves for nearly drifting off on watch, the first thing they remembered being trusted with in a long time. They stood absurdly, ignoring the dizziness and shaking their head until their vision cleared.

A cry drew their attention, and they made their way to the bed, pushing down the panicking Villain.

"Calm down," they tried, gentle. They always thought they would be doing this to their teammates, not the enemy.

Surprisingly, Villain listened.

"I'll call Medic, is it alright?"

Villain nodded. Leader would like to keep being kind, but they had to get something out of this, or they were both doomed.

They pressed the call button and leaned over Villain.

"I will be honest," Leader started. "I told my higher ups that you're valuable, and I need to give them something soon. Anything works. A name, a place. Even just the numbers of Whumper's forces. I'm sure you understand that I don't want to gain information in other ways. Despite my job, I hate seeing blood."

"I see," Villain whispered, perhaps too stunned. Leader was bad at dealing with people. "I will help."

"Thank you."

-•-

Weeks after accepting Villain, Leader found themselves more tired than ever, with agency pressing for any information and the team having an awkward time with Villain hanging around freely.

Medic was first to warm to the newest addition, even if only a little, so it was weird to hear Villain laugh when Leader knew Medic was away.

Leader made their way to the common space but stopped at the doorframe, too stunned from seeing Youngest of all people sitting and laughing with Villain.

With a relieved sigh, Leader made their way to the kitchen, ignoring the jealousy starting to bloom in their chest. It took Leader months to get a genuine laugh from Youngest.

They buried the tought immediately.

Instead, they focused on what to cook, repetitive movements carrying their thoughts away. They had some time until the agency gave them their next instructions, and they needed peace if they wanted to keep going.

And probably some rest, considering how tired and sore they felt. They were leaning on the counter but still felt too heavy on their feet, struggling to focus.

"What are you doing?"

Leader flinched, taken off guard by the sudden appearance of Right Hand. "Cooking," they answered honestly, not wishing to talk about anything else.

"I mean what do you think you are doing?!" Right Hand snarled. "You just left Youngest alone with them."

"I didn't want to disturb them. They looked like they were having fun."

"Why do you refuse to see? Villain is evil."

"Would you torture me to save Youngest?" Leader asked, cutting sharply. They wouldn't normally do that, but the topic wasn't about them. It was Villain, and someone had to stand up for them. Right Hand frowned as a response.

"Would you?" Leader asked again. If they had said Medic instead of themselves, Right Hand would think. But the answer was obvious.

"Yes," came finally, after so long that Leader thought they would only stare. "But that's irrelevant."

"Why?" Leader asked, but this time they answered themselves. "Because Youngest is family, and one should do everything to keep their family safe." They stopped for a second to let it sink. "That was exactly what Villain was doing. Whumper had their family as a hostage."

"It's not the same! And it doesn't excuse what they did."

"No it doesn't," they turned their head, staring to Right Hand. "But it means you can't judge them solely from their actions. What do you see when you look at them and Youngest?"

They were cut by a notification, an unknown number texting them an address. Leader deleted it before Right Hand could see, but it only earned a suspicious glare. They cursed to themselves, apologising and leaving with a rush. They had to be at the other side of the city in half an hour.

-•-

"You make me look suspicious," Leader greeted Mentor, not caring about their attitude. There had been a time they would tremble with Mentor's one word, but they grew up. Sometimes, Mentor still tried to order them around, but Leader was getting better at standing against those. On a good note, it made Mentor proud, to see Leader managing on their own. At least, that was what Leader wanted to think.

"That's no proper way to greet someone."

"Neither appearing years later with only a location to go is. Just tell me why you came back," they replied back.

"They're suspicious. Wanted me to get a hold of you." Mentor looked just as Leader remembered. Not even a day older.

"You don't trust me," Leader hid the hurt tone in their voice with a fake anger. They weren't supposed to feel hurt. Mentor and them never had a close relationship, and they shouldn't have assumed Mentor would side with them over the agency.

"You're no traitor. But someone working directly above you is."

Mentor's confident tone was the only thing they needed to relax completely.

"I taught you. You can't be a traitor. However, I don't trust you to do what the agency wants you to do."

"And what is it?" they asked. They knew the answer already but had to hear from Mentor.

"They think you are too slow with the progress with Villain."

"I won't torture them," was their immediate answer.

"No, you won't. I would be more concerned if you obeyed the agency this time. I didn't raise a monster. But you have to find a solution. The higher-ups need something in exchange if you want to keep Villain."

So Leader did.

In six hours, Leader was back with the information and a promise to Villain that there was no cleaning duty for a week. They desperately wanted to sleep, their throat hurting from talking too much while interrigating Villain. They needed something warm, free of caffeine despite it being the only way to keep themselves awake at that point. They had texted the emergency number in their contacts, and another location dropped in. This time, it was close enough to walk, and the fresh air was like a blessing to the warm feeling clinging them.

"You look awful," Mentor greeted.

"That's where I learned greeting," Leader muttered.

"I thought you had passed your moody phases by now."

"You look old, but I neither tell this as a greeting nor to your face," they countered. They were sleepy, and they were less tolerant of Mentor, given... everything that happened between them.

"I taught you some respect," Mentor scoffed, sitting down. "Anyway, tell me what you have."

You would look like this if you had everyone breathing down on your neck too.

Leader bit back those words and put a smile on their face with a subtle deep breath.

"I know where Whumper's bases are."

-•-

Leader sank into their blanket, hoping to catch some break. Their blanket was too warm, causing them to realise how cold they were before with the chills wrecking them.

They were soon asleep, but sleeping until morning would be a miracle. Their door was banged before the sun was up.

Leader sat up slowly, their head pounding and vision blurring. The door opened before they could answer, and Right Hand came in with a concerned expression.

"What happened?" Leader croaked, shaking their head slightly to get rid of the exhaustion.

"Agency is making an emergency call."

That was not unexpected, but Leader hoped that it could wait until the morning. Right Hand's expression turned into annoyed with Leader's slow movements. Leader would care, but they felt too sore.

Right Hand let them be, and Leader opened their wardrobe—all black and hard to see in dark. They found their sweatshirt with little struggle, and got dressed. The mere action was enough to leave them exhausted, but they forced themselves to go on.

With the headquarters being close and hour being too early, they walked there at a steady pace. Leader found the once soothing wind freezing, their focus slipping every once in a while.

This continued through the meeting, too, much to their annoyance. Luckily, it was for a coordinated attack on Whumper's forces, and Leader knew every detail of it.

But their eye catched Mentor in the corner, staring directly to them. Mentor disappeared when Leader blinked, and Leader went out right after with a swear.

Following the doors opening and closing, they caught up Mentor in a small briefing room. They coughed as they tried to calm their breaths, their lungs burning with the effort.

"Don't tell me you are out or practise," Mentor didn't even spare a look to Leader bending slightly to their knees, drawing strength from the nearby table.

"Just tired," Leader countered as soon as their coughs subdued, leaving them quite drained. But they couldn't let themselves drop to the chair, a warmth they hadn't felt since their trainee days creeping up. Embarrassment.

They were glad that their hair was covering their ears.

"I, too, am tired but perfectly capable of a little chase. Now listen up because you're going to take one of the bases."

You can't be serious, Leader bit back. They sat down right after Mentor, trying not to make it look like they collapsed, but their mind stuck. No one could handle a base all by themselves.

"It is relatively a small one, at the outskirts of the city. You just have to blow up the foundation of it. Explosives are already prepared, and your truck is ready."

"I..." Leader didn't think they could do it alone, but also they couldn't voice their concern. They were given an order. "What about— what about my team?"

"They're out under someone else's command. And I'm afraid it will stay like that until the agency is clear that you're no traitor."

"This is a trick," they murmured, their controle slipping for a moment. Mentor's gaze softened, and Leader immediately hated the pity. "If I survive, I'm the traitor. How can I prove myself?"

"Just do your job as told. I know you won't let me down and this ridiculous matter will slove itself."

Leader opened their mouth to protest, but a wheeze escaped.

"Are you alright?" Mentor asked immediately. The concern in their voice was foreign. Mentor had never been worried about Leader before.

"Yes," they answered firmly. Mentor reached out to them, but Leader didn't let them. Leader knew they would fall apart at the smallest break they were given. They were in a bad shape, with how emotional and tired they felt, unbecoming of the person they were. They could push through those usually, and crumbling beneath pressure was never an option, until recently.

"Are you sure—"

"I said yes. If this is to relieve your coinscience, i dont need it now. I'm fine and I will do as you told." They cut sharply. I needed when I was young, went unsaid.

Mentor stated silent, and Leader took their leave.

-•-

Leader approached the base with a calculated yet faltering steps, the burdens of exhaustion and their nervousness weighing them down. Each step felt like an eternity, and Leader had to steady themselves against the structure's cold exterior to prevent a fall.

As they worked to plant the explosives, Leader's trembling hands fumbled with the devices. Their body screamed for rest, and the piercing pain in their temples seemed to meld with the weak thud of their heartbeats.

Still, the job had to be done.

But time was a cruel master, and as Leader tried to slip away from the base, they stumbled into the watchful eyes of Whumper's men. It was a trap, and the moment they realized it, it was too late.

Leader found themselves surrounded, their weapon useless with an empty magazine and weak. Panic gnawed at their chest as they faced their captors, a mocking smirk playing on their faces.

But what drained Leader's spirit more was the unexpected appearance of Whumper himself. The cold, empty eyes that had haunted Leader for so long now stared directly into their soul.

"You look even more pathetic than the last time we crossed paths, Leader," Whumper sneered, his voice a chilling echo in the dimly lit space. "Did your agency finally realize you're a little sick puppy? Kicked you to our doorstep, did they?"

Leader tried to summon the strength to respond, but their voice came out as a mere rasp.

Whumper's laughter, a guttural, unsettling sound, filled the room. "I see you've lost your bite, too. How the mighty have fallen."

Whumper's chilling laughter echoed through the room as he closed in on Leader, his shadow casting a sinister presence. "It's almost poetic, isn't it? The great Leader, broken and defeated. What does your precious agency think about you now?"

Leader's voice was hoarse, but there was a spark of determination in their eyes. "They think... they think I'll get the job done."

Leader's vision began to blur as Whumper's men pulled them up.

"You see, Leader," Whumper whispered, leaning closer to their ear, "yoi resort to lies you want to believe. You've failed. But you don't cry. No. Thats not who you are."

Whumper pushed them to the wall from their neck, and Leader gasped, struggling to breathe.

"Any other person would be crying for their teammates or trainers. But you don't have anyone to cry. You are truly alone, and you know it.

Leader knew they wouldn't survive this, but they'd be damned if they didn't take Whumper down with them.

With one final act of defiance, Leader reached to their pocket. They hit Whumper, slipping a tracker to their sleeve as they pushed the remote, triggering a series of explosives placed throughout Whumper's hideout. The chain reaction of blasts tore through the structure, bringing it crumbling down.

Leader's vision blurred, and their body went limp as debris rained down around them.

-•-

When Leader's tracker went on, Mentor's heart stuttered.

They realised something was wrong when Leader didn't check in for transport. And the tracker could only mean that Whumper got away. Leader would never use it if it weren't for last resort.

"They must have let Whumper run away," one mused next to them from the operation centre.

"No," they whispered. "Something— something is not right. I'm getting them back."

They motioned to their friend, knowing they would need help.

#whump #whump writing #leader whumpee #leader whump #tw torture #broken bones #broken ribs #dysfunctional family #sickfic #intimate whumper #self destructive behavior #implied past abuse #no this wasnt actually how tired i felt ever since the beginning of the month #sorry for taking so long #but been so busy #and feeling sick even after recovering #queue

[withoutalice]

WIP doujin page. Kinda based in some past irl stuffs haha. Also can be looked at in the lense of my Max fic.

I know it looks bad in the tags but it's not medical malpractice i promise-

They're just trying to help...

#They're just trying to help... #it's court ordered checks :// had no choice... #implied past torture #i mean it's Max...in a medbay...in recovery #idk what you want from me #cw medical anxiety #no graphic injuries #non-graphic medical procedures #tw delusions #my art #my doujins #transformers #fortress maximus #max really hates physicals (me too) #uncomfy hospitals :(

[queermentaldisaster]

“There's a Revolution Coming”, part three of “The Devil Made Me Do It; But I Also Kinda Wanted To”.

First thing's first. If you read this on AO3, please, please, please pay attention to the tags. I will add sufficient warnings for each chapter here as well, but this is very much a Dead Dove fic. What you see is what you get. So please, proceed with caution when you see the tws/tags.

Tags: @forestshadow-wolf @axelaxolotl09 @im-here-and-im-confused @bringinsexybackk69 @rainerestored @8-rae-rae-8 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist please inform me)

(Possible) tw: Children in captivity, mental breakdown, mentions of torture and mind control, discrimination towards demons, and implied child abuse. Proceed with caution.

Chapter 1 under the cut.

The helo landed, and Mirror grabbed Soap's bound wrists and began dragging him towards the military base. Soap's eyes trailed upwards, and his eyes narrowed. With the amount of security around this place, it reminded him of a castle. He looked back down, taking a deep breath. ‘Och, poor Si…he's probably terrified right now and masking it with anger…’ he thought. His thoughts were on Ghost, even as Mirror dragged him through the base. Then, he looked up, and saw just how many demons were here. More than a thousand. The rest must've come from all over the world, then. ‘How many demons did Meister break?’ Soap thought, as his mind drifted back to a conversation Ghost and him had while he was still recovering.

“You know, Meister tortured us to make us weak to mind control.” Ghost murmured. Soap's head snapped up from his sketchbook. ��Mind control?” He asked. Ghost nodded. “Affirmative.” He brought his hand up to his neck. “He’d collar us, then attack us. He saw us as nothing more than tools.” Ghost's wings tightened around himself. Soap's eyes softened and he touched Ghost's hand. “Yer so much more than a tool to me, Simon. Yer as alive as the rest of us.” he murmured. Ghost looked back at Soap and his eyes spoke volumes. “Thanks, Johnny.”

A tear rolled down Soap's cheek. God, he hoped Ghost was looking for him. He was scared.

Mirror dragged him into a room, shoving him in and locking the door behind him. Soap fell to the floor, and knelt there, his hands clenched into fists. He let the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, as he tried not to sob. He was in the lion's den and all alone. Too weak to fight against demons and vampires and…whatever Shepard was. God, he'd never wished for anything, not even to be a monster…but now, he was cursing his human heritage. ‘Ah’m useless. Cannae even save maself, much less love Simon how he wants.’ He bit his tongue. ‘Ah’m pathetic. Fought tooth ‘n nail ta get where ah was, and now ah'm here. In an empty room, captured, unable to save maself.’ A sob escaped from the gag, and the dam broke. He curled up, sobbing.

•✧-----------------------------------✧•

He didn't know how long had passed, and he didn't care. He'd managed to get the gag out at some point, and he was now staring at the ceiling, counting the tiles. “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six-” He was interrupted by the door flying open. Graves was standing there, his eyes narrowed. “Do you ever shut up!?” He snapped. Soap sat up, placing his bound wrists on his knees. “Ya ken, Graves, ye have a really bad track record with kidnapping. Twice in two months. Ghost isnae goin’ tae be happy with this.”

Graves's eyes narrowed. “I do not care what that beast thinks. He's nothing more than an animal, a tool to use as we see fit. He doesn't have feelings, he can't.” Soap's eyes narrowed. “...” He lunged at Graves, only to be tackled by one of the other demon guards. Graves's eyes narrowed. “Take him to the little room.” The demon nodded and dragged Soap off as Soap screamed his head off at Graves, in pure rage.

The demon threw Soap in another room, this one with three beds, and paper strewn around the room. He hit the ground roughly, and he let out a groan. He felt hands grab his binds and he almost struck the person…until he looked ahead…and saw a child with pale tannish skin, her right eye being a purple color, her left eye being a pink color, blonde hair, and tiny red horns. “Evelyn! He could be a threat!” came a voice. He turned his head and saw a girl, no older than fourteen, shielding a smaller boy. The girl had light grayish pinkish-purple hair, her right eye being orange and her left eye being a dark grayish magenta color. She had a burn scar by her right eye, and she had horns of a dull gold color that curved like a ram's. Soap looked around, spotting two other kids. His heart sank.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty mw2 #ghostsoap #ghoap #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #soapghost #original character #original characters #demons #tw: implied child abuse #tw: mentions of past torture #tw: discrimination #tw: degradation #ao3 #ao3 link #ao3 author #dead dove do not eat #cod fic #my fic #call of duty fic #ao3 fanfic #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty fanfic #fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod fanfiction

[foxhole-pipe-dream]

Yeah, it's about that time I take a hiatus from this fandom again 😭

Anyway, uh. I don't consider myself an "anti" but if you identify as a proshipper or adjacent, please just save me the trouble and block me.

Or make yourself known so I can do it myself. This isn't a hate post (except it is). This is me curating my own online experience, which doesn't involve seeing sibling or father/son ships. Or people who consume that content.

Y'all can play with your dolls in a corner veeeeeery far away from me and behind a bunch of walls.

And if I ever have to read the words "twinyard scat" again, I will have to end it all.

#sometimes this fandom is great and other times it's a form of torture #i normally block and move on pretty quietly but some people let anything slide #some ships in this fandom i can side eye but scroll past. others..... #there's enjoying dark content and then... whatever that is #i just wanna write my silly fics and go about my day without being flashbanged by random incest posts #anyway i'll reblog this again later #mine #incest tw

[bleedingintogold]

Leader should be grateful. Without her, his team would have not been able to rescue him. Maybe they would have eventually, but they would have only brought back a body.

He should be grateful that she was actively and willingly participating in taking care of him, helping Medic redress his wounds and reminding Youngest that Leader still couldn't eat full meals yet, despite not having a personal relationship with him like the others. There were even times where he realized it was her holding him when he screamed himself awake in the night from dreams that he could never tell were not real. She would pet his hair and stroke his back until he exhausted himself back to sleep.

He hates himself for hating her when he watches how easily she gets along with his team. Leader sees her playing video games with his co-captain, or assisting Engineer with her newest tech. Even Oldest had taken to her, ruffling her hair as he used to his. He was gone for almost a year and she had so easily managed to fill the space he left behind in his little found family.

They treat him like glass now. Gentle words and careful touch. None of the sibling-like behaviour he was used to. Perhaps it was for the best, he still flinched when any of them moved too fast but goddamn, he hadn't been broken by Whumper! Had he? No. They were just being overprotective! He was fine! He still had his other leg and the burns were healing! Even the marks on his wrists and face from the shackles and muzzle were gone!

He hates that he can only watch from afar as he watches her bond with his family. Maybe in a different life he would have found her instead of the other way round and she'd fit right into their dynamic like she belonged among them.

Leader didn't mean to snap at her. He didn't mean to say all those things he said. He was just tired and angry and his whole body ached.

But he also didn't expect his team to immediately take her side. He should have. It was his fault after all, she was just trying to help him.

When he watches through the crack of his door as Oldest reassures her and Medic helps her up. He doesn't get to hear much with his still healing eardrums but the words he hears are enough.

"Leader isn't himself anymore, don't listen to him. It's just Whumper talking,"

He feels his heart break as he finally comes to terms that he's been replaced as Youngest gives him a dissapointed look as he closes Leader's door, leaving him alone again.

#leader whump #whump tropes #team dynamics #leader whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #whump prompt #tw referenced past torture #tw permanent injury

[nerdpoe]

In the Shadow of Speculation Part 2

Part 1, Ao3

Heavy chapter, please heed the following; Blood tw vivisection tw descriptions of a flashback descriptions of a night terror descriptions of recovery abled verbiage tw self hatred tw (mild) forced parenthood equivalent (but in a ghost culture way)

Danny took a deep breath and used the Ring of Rage.

A glowing portal formed in the air before him, perfectly stable. Cold, bitter wind blew through it, along with the smell of antiseptic.

Wrinkling his nose, Danny stepped through the portal and closed it behind him.

“Oh, greetings Mr. High King! Are you ready for your check-up?” a nurse Yeti said, looking up from her clipboard enthusiastically.

Danny attempted a smile.

“I’m prepared for it, yeah.”

“Wonderful! Your friends are already in the room for moral support!”

Danny paused.

“Who-?”

“The Lady of the Green and the Lord of Innovation, of course!”

Oh thank the Ancients.

Danny nodded his thanks at the nurse and started for his assigned rooms.

Every inch of the hallways, unfamiliar before the Accident, were ingrained in his memories now.

He’d finally walked from his door to that window without help four months after waking up, and he’d been so fucking proud about it too. He’d hid behind that potted plant during his first flashback. He’d climbed out of that window and crawled on the roof just so he could feel the snow on his skin two months into Physical Therapy.

That was the yeti that had taken the brunt of his anger and hurt on his worst days, nodding at him as Danny passed. That was the room he’d pleaded with Dan to take him away from the hospital, that he couldn’t do it anymore, that he just wanted to go home-that was also the room Dan had set his foot down and said that he’d play the bad guy for Danny one last time.

And oh, how Danny had despised him for it.

But it had worked. Danny, with someone who was there for the sole purpose of taking the verbal assaults meant for his Physical Therapists and himself, who was only there to snipe back and deliberately egg Danny on, helped Danny find the energy to push forward.

And Danny still felt awful about that.

Danny passed the table he had eaten his first solid meal at, one month after waking up, and took a left.

There it was.

The door to the rooms that had been his sanctuary and his prison, right up until they hadn’t been needed anymore. The first place he’d seen when he’d woken up, and then been amazed that he’d woken up at all.

With a deep breath, Danny pushed it open.

“Hey man!”

“Danny!”

Danny’s smile was weak, and he was holding back tears in the face of so many memories he hated and adored in equal measure.

“Hey guys, thanks for coming.”

~~~~~~

Dan knew he was asleep. Dan knew he was awake. Dan knew he was somewhere in that awful inbetween.

He was in his parents basement. No, wait. They weren’t his parents. They’d never deserved the title.

He was in the Fenton’s basement.

The world kept glitching out, the colors kept melding together, and the only thing that stood out was the overwhelming feeling of disbelief and terror.

Little him was strapped to a table. Little him was strapped to a table. Little him was-

Stop.

Assess.

What was going on?

Little him was strapped to a table; he was locked in place. He was in his Core form. It was…damaged. It was damaged.

Why?

Who would…?

There was a sliver missing. They’d torn a piece of him off. They’d tried to peel him open. They’d-Little him would be crippled.

If he survived.

But he had survived, hadn’t he?

Little him’s core was strapped to a table, damaged, and there was no resonance coming from it. There were vials upon vials of ecto-blood on the tables.

That was a kidney.

That was a stomach.

There was blood on the floor.

There…there was blood on his shoes.

Dan floated off of it, listening to the dripping sounds it made as it rolled off his soles.

The door opened.

Two monsters walked through, all giant bug eyes and sharp metal knives.

Dan had two options.

He could kill the things that had done this.

Or.

He darted forward to break the straps and shoved Little him’s core next to his own, where it would be safe, where it could recover as it leeched his excess energy off of him.

The world glitched again.

Dan was standing in Jazz’s living room, hand digging into his own chest. Searching.

With a shaking breath, he pulled it out.

He’d only carried Danny’s core next to his own for two years, but he still found himself searching for it in moments of weakness.

He hadn’t been the best Spirit to host Danny’s core, but he’d fought tooth and nail to do it. Vengeance Spirits could not normally house Protective Spirits.

It was why he’d done the whole hero thing after; it would help Little him heal if he did. And when he scared the people he was saving away?

He’d opted to train the little fledgling heroes. He’d make sure they grew up safe, protected from actual villains and, if needed, their own personal ones.

Anything to make sure he didn’t have to see another kid so close to completely shattering into Nothing, he never wanted to see that shit again-

Dan forced himself to move away from the couch and towards the kitchen.

It was pointless to dwell on the past. He did everything he could; if the Twerp wanted to be next to those monsters, that was on him.

So what if he’d fucked up their relationship? At least the kid was alive.

Dan’s hands still shook as he made himself a cup of coffee.

…

Maybe he’d just check in. Just for a bit.

~~~~~~

Dan may have failed steps one through ten.

It had probably started when he’d played surrogate for the Runt, if he was completely honest. There was no way Dan hadn’t absorbed a little bit of his Protective nature.

Point was; Dan genuinely could not remember going to Arkham.

He just sort of…came back to himself while floating ominously above it.

He could see the alarm lights flashing below him. The humans running for their battle-stations.

The inmates being herded deeper into the complex.

Dan felt his eyes grow hotter, felt his claws dig into the flesh of his palms.

They were right there. Right fucking there. All he had to do was phase through the compound and just reach into their chests.

It would be so. Fucking. Easy.

In fact, he even caught a glimpse of Maddie through one of the windows.

Dan snarled, lifting a hand, the ectoplasm pooling in it hotter than anything he’d made before-

-and he was in the kitchen. Mom was trying to make hot dogs, but they kept fighting back. She was laughing at a dumb meme he’d shown her. His homework was covered in mustard from the fight with their food.

“I guess you can tell Mr. Lancer that you ‘mustard’ up every resource you had!” Dad called out as he walked by, and Dan felt so loved-

-Dan dropped the hand.

Maddie was hauled past the window and to safety.

Fuck.

Fuck this place.

Fuck this city.

Fuck everything about this situation.

~~~~~~

Batman grappled his way to the tallest watchtower in Arkham, keeping an eye on Phantom the entire time.

The guard that was already in the tower-a new hire, if he recalled-nervously stepped up to fall in line beside him.

Batman waved him off.

He knew Phantom. He knew that the man wasn’t actually a villain.

A Training Villain wasn’t something Batman had seen younger heroes needing, but when the Ghost in front of him had started play-fighting with the younger heroes to teach them through safe combat, the Bat had been mentally kicking himself.

It was a perfect job to train younger heroes, and Batman couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed the previous iterations by not realizing that.

Robin was still angry that he’d fallen for it, of course he was, but Batman could not deny that Phantom’s strange method of training had been instrumental in helping his youngest work through his rage.

Just like he could not deny that he and Phantom had something in common with Arkham.

It wasn’t hard to assume that the walls held a person responsible for the death of someone in the man’s life.

Phantom had only shown up to Arkham a total of three times.

The first time, he’d just hovered outside of it, holding his hand to his chest. He’d done nothing, and left in an hour.

The second time, two years later, he’d broken two walls and shattered a watchtower, screaming for someone to come out and face him. Robin had been on scene before Batman had time to distract him, convinced it was the same Phantom he was used to dealing with.

Surprisingly, the sight of Robin had been enough to still the beast Phantom had become. He’d toned down, forced Robin into a surprise hug, and then disappeared. Robin had been livid, but Batman had learned something about the Training Villain he didn’t think he wanted to know.

The man knew loss, and Batman was pretty sure he knew it on the same scale Bruce did.

From there, it wasn’t hard to figure out the most likely objects of his wrath.

Phantom was a Ghost. Ghosts had a very, very bad history with the American Government. The Anti-ecto acts had just been revealed to the public by Lois Lane, and the country was tearing itself apart.

The people who had been the most avid supporters had been, currently were, the Dr.s Fenton.

Who were housed in Arkham.

Batman had said nothing. He had gone back to the cave and quietly updated Phantom’s file, and left it at that.

The third time was the present.

Phantom had almost lost his temper. Almost.

But he’d reigned it in.

“Phantom,” Batman started, staring at the figure above him, “I know you can hear me. What’s happened?”

The Ghost stayed where he was for one hundred and twenty seconds, before slowly gliding down to the Bat.

Phantom did not say anything.

He did not have to.

His eyes were anywhere, everywhere, but where he actually was. When he actually was.

Batman quietly hissed through his teeth.

Alright then.

“I’m here if you want to talk, otherwise we can be silent. Just know that at this moment, you are not alone.”

Phantom chose silence for a good seventeen minutes.

Then Phantom opened his mouth.

“I should hate them,” the voice was halting, tired, “I should, I really should. They loved me so much, but they…they tore him apar-“ Phantom’s voice failed him.

Batman said nothing, and gave the Ghost time to collect himself.

While he waited, he compartmentalized what he’d learned. The Fentons had torn apart someone very, very important to Phantom.

And Bruce had an awful feeling that he meant that literally.

“I can’t be here,” Phantom said instead of finishing his previous thought.

Batman nodded.

“You didn’t hurt anyone this time, so go; I see no reason to stop you.”

Phantom didn’t grace Batman with a goodbye, but the Bat swore he felt an invisible hand squeeze his shoulder after the Ghost vanished from sight.

~~~~~~

Danny laid on the examination bed, one hand being held by Sam while Tucker lounged on the bed at Danny’s feet. They were talking about their new companies, how the world was changing, and distracted Danny while Frostbite examined his vivisection scarring.

Danny looked everywhere but Frostbite as the yeti pushed and prodded. He didn’t want to look at his chest if he didn’t have to, but he also didn’t want the embarrassment that was accidentally meeting his doctor’s eyes in the middle of a physical.

“Fantastic news, Young Savior,” Frostbite said, interrupting their idle chatter, “Your core, while still healing, is recovering at a phenomenal rate. Truly, Lady Gotham is good on her word! At this pace, your core should be fully healed in a mere century!”

Danny hated that. He hated that it needed to heal, and he hated that he was going to outlive his friends.

Sam and Tucker leaned a little closer, offering comfort for something that they knew the Ancient before them wouldn’t understand.

“Better news, the physical damage appears to be almost completely healed. The regrown kidney and stomach are showing no signs of failing, and the scarring should be the only nuisance. I recommend the afore-mentioned stretches and lotion to help the scar tissue conform with your movements.”

Danny nodded, sitting up as Frostbite stepped back and removed his hand from inside Danny’s torso.

“I also see no issue with your residual limb, although it does appear you’ve been forgetting to remove the prosthetic often enough to cause some light bruising. Can’t say I don’t understand, but perhaps write a reminder and pin it on your bedroom wall.”

Danny avoided Sam’s flat look.

Tucker just flashed his phone screen at Danny, the words ‘I can make you something really cool with rockets it you let me’ sprawled across the screen.

Danny absorbed Sam’s flat look and mirrored it towards Tucker.

Tucker threw up his hands.

“Ancients forbid I do anything, I guess,” the techie sighed dramatically.

Once Danny pulled himself together and got ready to leave, Tucker threaded an arm around his own.

“So, wanna go ding-dong-ditch Walker?”

Danny paused, then grinned; and for the first time in two weeks, it wasn’t a lie.

~~~~~~

Danny waved back at Sam and Tucker as they went through their own portals. They would definitely have to get together and hit the town on Earth.

Danny walked through his own portal and ran face-first into a mass of muscle.

Dan steadied him as he bounced back.

Danny was immediately hit with conflicting, very confusing emotions.

He was looking at Dan, his enemy. He was looking at his father? No, it was Dan. Wasn’t that the same-?

Danny shook his head. He’d never gotten a straight answer about why his Ghost self’s view on Dan had changed so dramatically; everyone always shied away from the question.

“Can I ask what you’re doing in my apartment?” He asked instead, stepping back and closing the portal.

“Just making sure you’re settling in, Tiny.”

“We’re the same height?”

“Nah, we’re not.”

Danny shoved the absurdity of their interaction in the back of his head and made for his couch.

“Well, whatever you’re doing here, here’s to hoping it involved making dinner,” he groaned, sinking into the cushion and pulling up his left leg to start the tediously cumbersome process of pulling it off, “because per the doctor, I’m supposed to keep the prosthetic off for the rest of today.”

“I was gonna order out. Move, we’re watching Sailor Moon.”

Danny whined pitifully when Dan physically picked him up and moved him to the side.

He fought his instincts, and his instincts won.

He leaned back and allowed Dan to take the prosthetic off, clawed fingers delicate for all that the man snarled under his breath.

He also allowed the man to commandeer the TV; not something he would even allow Jazz to do.

“Why do I let you do these things?” Danny muttered, eyeballing the quasi-villain on his couch as said villain massaged the stump just below his knee.

Dan snorted.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Ugh, no one tells me anything.”

“We’re pacing you,” Dan corrected, blunt for all that the words were careful, “when you’re back on your feet, you’ll get the non-vital details we skimmed.”

Danny didn’t bother arguing; he’d already tried for the better part of the previous year. For some reason, the yetis took Dan’s side, too.

Instead, they fell into a companionable silence, appreciating Sailor Moon. Which was fine by Danny, since he never knew how to behave around Dan. It was only interrupted by the delivery of the Greek food Dan had ordered out.

Danny was on his second Gyro when Dan finally broke the silence.

“So I heard there was a rogue attack outside your apartment,” he said idly, and Danny could feel his eyes on him.

“Yeah.”

“So you got to see the Bats in action?”

“…Yeah.”

Dan leaned in, eyes going critical.

“What needs improvement? Don’t lie; that ‘yeah’ was one that means you weren’t impressed.”

Danny shrugged.

“I dunno, just…they didn’t have someone who’s only job it was was to evacuate the people, or help the injured. It was just offense, no defense.”

Dan snorted and leaned away.

“Kept telling that to Robin, but no; ‘Father this’ and ‘Father that’.” Dan shook his head, chewing thoughtfully on his rack of lamb. “So. What are you gonna do about it?”

Danny blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve seen what they need, and I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll stay out of the game forever. What are you gonna do about it?”

Danny looked down at his Gyro, frowning.

What was he gonna do about it?

He couldn’t fight, not like he used to, not really. But if the Bats were tanking, then…he probably wouldn’t really have to.

“I’ve been in medical facilities for almost a year,” Danny said slowly, ignoring how Dan stiffened next to him, “I think I’ve picked up a few things. Frostbite would probably be thrilled if I asked him to teach me, honestly.”

Dan relaxed, humming thoughtfully around the bone he was chewing on.

“I think…I’ll be a medic.”

@simplestoryteller @gildedphoenix I do not suffer PTSD, and I've never had a life-altering injury. That said, I know people who have, for both of those. I apologize if my descriptions are off. Here's some notes to piece together what this chapter outlines, for those that want the sparknotes as to what Dan is alluding to. From my notes; "Ghosts can carry another ghosts core if that core is injured, to protect and promote healing. Typically, the father or mother figure does it. In this particular instance, Dan did it. We will see in a bit, but for Dan their relationship went from enemies-warden-person I gotta apologize to-person I’ve got to save-the core housed next to mine-son. For Danny, it randomly went from enemies to ‘why do I think dan is my dad more than I think my dad is my dad’." This is where the "forced parenthood" tw comes into play, because Dan felt like he had to do it, and due to instinct Danny subconsciously got dragged along for the ride. Also, if it wasn't clear from the age list on the first chapter and the timeline presented, I'm playing around with Lian and Roy's timeline; Dan's first year he babysat her, and then she died. She came back only four weeks prior to Danny re-entering the human world.

#in the shadow of speculation #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #blood tw #vivisection tw #flashback tw #night terror tw #descriptions of recovery #physical therapy mention #self hatred tw #abled verbiage tw #forced parenthood tw #healing through helping others #past abuse #past torture