#“bite down on this”

[psychologeek]

Lab Rat

DAY 3: "bite down on this."

DAY 4: obedience

The man in the living room doesn't even wince at Danny's condition.

“Should I use anesthesia?” is all he asks. Doesn't even care when told not to.

He pulls out a sterilized mouthpiece. “Bite down on this. I don't want to patch parts of your tongue.”

The kid on the sofa is quiet and pale. 

(He is quiet and pale and doesn't fight anymore. There are signs on his body, suggesting it hasn't always been like this. But right now there is a young teen laying on the sofa in a cranky safehouse in Gotham, that wouldn't resist.) 

(Like it? I have more mini-fics in this au. And full size fics on ao3. please vote in my update poll!)

[secret-bug-pain-blog]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 3 - BITE DOWN ON THIS

@febuwhump

This is. 4k words long and takes place in a noncanon crossover universe featuring spoilers for a fic we haven't finished yet. Please enjoy.

Of all the bugs in the world to turn up after the world split in two, it had to be those three.

Scarlet had taken notice when the world had warped. It would have been difficult not to notice, by his count - the world had shaken with the warping of something threatening to rip itself apart around his antenna, the taste of ozone and the scent of something he struggled to even describe intermingling as the sky practically split in two around his head. The earth had been so unstable that it threatened to break open under his feet and devour him whole, reality itself breaking around his ears. It was immediately, incredibly OBVIOUS that something was wrong, and the deep-seated sense of unease emanating from nothing was just the cherry on top.

He was fairly certain that it had been incredibly obvious even if you weren't sensitive to the feeling of raw magic practically ripping the earth apart.

It had taken a few hours to venture out to explore without worrying about that splintering, shattering, shell-tearing something coming back. The air itself had tasted different. Charged, almost, with magical energy too immaterial to eat - it had taken barely half an hour to determine that the earth had warped, somehow, things twisted subtly out of alignment by some incomprehensibly great force.

Something about the world had been changed - and though he couldn't risk his normal information gathering strategies, with his face plastered on wanted posters halfway across the kingdom, he hadn't forgotten how to seek out a gathering of other bugs to try and listen.

A collision of worlds. A meeting of two versions of the same queen. An alternate timeline, brought side by side with this one by some great, cosmic warping.

It was just his misfortune that the team who had brought him down seemed to be a universal constant.

Scarlet hid in the back of the crevice, his wings trembling frantically. He could still hear the bee and the beetle arguing, somewhere just outside of his sight. He could faintly sense the moth, just out of sight, staring daggers into the stone wall just in front of him.

If he was a religious man, he'd say that the gods were conspiring against him. Unfortunately, he'd met enough gods to know better, and he knew enough about the habits of gods to know that Bugaria's were either dead or simply not watching. This situation, unfortunate as it was, was purely due to his own rotten luck.

"...he's trapped, isn't he? I mean, we have him backed into a corner. Quite literally."

"We had him backed into a corner last time, too, and he still got away. He can teleport, remember?"

"Well, yes, but..."

If he had any other option in the world, he wouldn't have been there. Unfortunately for Scarlet, he was currently very, very low on options.

Problem one: he was low on life force. When your hunting strategies leaned on a need for people to trust you, any development that warned people of your existence tended to end very, very poorly. The fact that this kingdom seemed to regard drones as lesser, regardless of how useful that often was to his ability to lure bugs off-trail, had proved incredibly counterproductive in this one, as it had turned a good chunk of bugs who might otherwise be potential prey into people who would rather turn him in to the queen for a reward. As such, his hunting had been... lean, and he'd had to lean back on lesser bugs to fill the hole in his diet.

It would have been less of an issue if he didn't need so much of it to teleport. Unfortunately. he hadn't been counting on his pursuers catching on so quickly, as he hadn't really planned for the world ripping in two and drawing a truly ridiculous amount of random bugs out of the shadows to sniff around at what had previously been an extremely unremarkable campsite.

Problem two: the world had been split in two, or merged into one, or somehow both, and the chaotic mishmash of geography currently being split between the different timelines meant that some entrances no longer went where they should have gone. Scarlet had first discovered this about five minutes ago, when he had gone into what was previously a perfectly good exit and discovered that it had, apparently, been completely filled with rocks in the minute-and-a-half since he had last used it, and that his nice exit tunnel into the cave he had been using to store his supplies was now a tunnel that lead to a rock wall.

And that, naturally, lead right into problem three: the only exit to the situation he was currently stuck in was now being blocked by the exact same group of adventurers that had defeated him and spread his face halfway across Bugaria.

"We could try and freeze him," the moth offered. "It wouldn't be hard."

"For how long? Five minutes? the bee scoffed. "We have to hold him until someone can arrive to arrest him, not just distract him for a bit."

"We managed it with Ultimax. We could do it again."

"Ultimax was, like, nine-tenths of the way dead! And it only lasted like an hour anyways."

Scarlet shuffled uncomfortably within the confines of the stone. He hadn't particularly liked the feeling of the moth's ice magic even during the first go-around - the taste of icy desolation still lingered on his tongue, a mass extinction of freezing cold, the discomforting feeling of picking mycelium out of his spiracles - he had no clue how the moth had even begun to survive a cordyceps infection of that scale, but seeing as he was still alive, there must have been some sort of trick to it. He'd had to drag pieces of fungus out of his ganglia, and even if the Ice in the moth's blood kept it dormant, there was only so far you could go with that sort of infestation rooted into you.

Draining other mages was never pleasant, even if their magic was compatible, and Scarlet had never dealt well with cold, much less taking a swig from a cold front so concentrated that he could feel it actively beginning to lower his body temperature - which was very difficult to even keep stable this far north, let alone to recover when the life force in his stomach was actively rebelling against the very idea of being used to keep him from freezing to death.

He didn't produce heat from his body like some of the mutations that the snow line produced. He especially didn't have the life force to spare recreating the effect. Torpor risked a period of dormancy far longer than he could actually afford, and had no guarantee of him waking up after. If the ice managed to drain his life force past his limits-

"Team! Has he gotten loose? Do you still know where he is?"

"Oh, hey Kabbu. No, he's still in the hole I think. Didja find anything?"

"Ah... yes, actually. Team, you already know Team Slacker, but I don't believe anyone's had the opportunity to meet their counterparts yet-"

"Oh shit, are they actually helping for once?" Scarlet heard the bee's wings buzz, masking the sound of heavy footsteps drawing closer. Heshuffled a bit further forward, trying to get a look at the new arrivals - the scarab beetle, he knew, but that second font of life force-

Scarlet caught a glimpse of a very, very big hercules beetle in the split second before the moth's head turned back to him and he retreated back.

Well. That wasn't good. At the very least, by how the bee had spoken of them, they were probably unlikely to cause problems? Maybe? Considering the shattered reality, the kingdom probably had more to worry about than him, but if he was in the way-

"They said that they wanted to help with our... "drone problem", when I mentioned who we were fighting- though, Delilah, are you quite certain that you want to deal with him yourselves?" The beetle asked. "I don't doubt your skills, but we've handled him once before, and he's a slippery enough opponent that-"

"No, we know how to handle this," a new voice drawled. "We've dealt with him before. We've got expertise."

The scarab said something in response, but he barely heard it as anything but indistinct noise, his mind going blank in blind panic. Fuck. Fuck. Of course someone from their world would have dealt with him, of course they'd bring them in, of course...

Scarlet wedged himself further into the back corner of the crevice, his antenna quivering frantically. There was no way out but through the moth still still staring him down, the distinct feeling of ice magic humming just close enough to the surface that he had no doubt there'd be a spell levelled at him if he so much as poked a whisker out of his hiding place. The Bugnish chatter filtered through his ears almost unheard as he searched the innards of the crack for some way out, any way-

"...I suppose I'll trust your experience in such matters," the beetle concluded. "Now, when you said-"

"Watch the hole to make sure he doesn't get out, and pin him if he does. Try not to deal too much damage to him. We want him alive, not dead. Less reason he has to bolt the better."

"If you say so," the bee said. "We won't deal too much-"

"If you draw blood then you're probably going too far."

"Damn."

Claws snapping. Shuffling across dirt. Scarlet craned his neck, brushing his antenna as close to the entrance as he dared as he tried to catch an idea of how the bugs outside were positioned. Maybe, if he made a break for it, he could get away before-

Ice. Death. Extinction. The moth's life force flared in preparation to cast a spell and Scarlet quickly scuttled back out of range.

Think. Think. He needed to think.

The time passed at an absolutely glacial pace.

Scarlet could hear the aimless chatter on the other side of the crack. The voices faded in and out - the distinct glacial death of the moth's life force stayed steady, trained to attack the moment that he made a wrong move.

His ideas of the outside were loose at best. He knew where the ground was, loosely - he couldn't trust the ground to stay quite the same anymore, couldn't trust the world to stay static as it previously was - the air was all too wrong, reality flowing in disorienting eddies around his antenna. He knew that the bee was close from the taste-scent of her sparkler-fire-fuse life, just barely close enough to detect. He could smell the Ice of the moth, masking practically everything else beneath death-scent - the faint shuffling of dirt was one of the only signs that one of the beetles might have stayed, painfully hard to detect without sticking his antenna right where the moth might be able to get at them.

He really, really didn't want to be frozen again.

From what he could tell, the moth was the closest. The bee was next closest, whatever beetle had stayed far enough to be out of range - though she begun to pace, after a few minutes with no sign of the other two.

If he could evade the moth's magic, he might be able to dash past the beetle if he timed it right - the bee took time to turn around, and if he could manage to get under something before she released that boomerang, he might be able to evade it. With proper cover, he might even be able to temporarily disarm her - though she was fast, and horrifyingly good at aiming it, a boomerang couldn't unstick itself from a bush's branch, and if he was careful, he could get out of range before she could retrieve it.

He just didn't know where the beetle was.

If he were a bit closer, he'd be able to scent them out, but with the moth guarding the entrance, he didn't really have means to try without getting his shell frosted over. He didn't know for sure how long the other party would take to get back, and unless he had a better idea of the kind of threat that they posed-

Voices. The scarab and the bug he didn't know. Coming closer.

He was out of time.

"...are you certain that he's still in this crevice?" the scarab asked, his tone faintly concerned. " I haven't heard anything from him from a while now, and no one's checked the other end-"

"It's blocked off in our universe. Might be blocked off in here. Even if it's not, there's not far he could run, and he left his umbrella out here," the unknown bug said. "He'll be back to get it sooner or later even if he can get loose here."

"How do you know that-?"

"Trust me, it'll work. If he didn't know it was missing already, then he'd know when I mention I have it."

She deliberately raised her voice for the last few words, projecting it out to him. Scarlet ducked down closer to the ground, his muscles tensing. She knew something about it, he could tell- even if she didn't have the full picture, that was a risk. He hated repeat encounters, and when he didn't have any idea what they might know-

"Has he tried to get out yet?" the bug asked. "With how he usually is here, I'd have expected him to-"

Scarlet took off like a shot, claws digging into the earth as he ran for it. He ran between the explorers, eyes fixed on the treeline-

-and made it all of ten feet before a beetle's claws locked around his scruff.

Scarlet thrashed, desperately trying to loosen his scarf enough for him to squirm out and escape. He could feel it beginning to unspool, the bug's grip loosening- and then an arm across his thorax, pinning him to the heavy chest of one of the unknown bugs.

Scarlet snapped at an all-too-sturdy shell, thrashing as his teeth merely glanced off of the beetle's chitin. They were huge, armoured like a tank- unnervingly strong, too, pinning him in place like it was nothing. A frantic attempt at drawing whatever he could through their shell amounted to nothing, their life force all too slow to respond to him. Panic drew tighter around him as he heard a bug begin to draw closer, pulling something from behind their back-!

[break]

"Ah, Venus, it's this again."

Monsieur Scarlet thrashed sporadically in Stratos's hands, his claws scrape-scrape-scraping against her partner's shell. Predictably, this did absolutely nothing - he'd struggled to find purchase on Stratos's shell even when he was in the absolute peak of health, and he wasn't about to get any further with it while he was looking like death warmed over, but it was more than a bit inconvenient, considering it was pretty much the opposite of what they were trying to accomplish with him.

"Calm down," she told him. "You're not dying."

Perhaps even more predictably, this didn't calm him down.

Delilah wasn't quite sure what else she had expected - he had about the same nerves as a particularly high-strung giraffe weevil, even in their universe, and she doubted that getting locked out of his home base helped the issue. What else had she expected?

She knew the answer to that question already. This wasn't exactly a pre-planned trip, after all. Just a quick jaunt over to grab a valued informant.

It was just unfortunate that said valued informant was preoccupied trying to gnaw her partner's throat out.

"Stratos, just hold 'im still. I don't want to deal with his venom again."

The ant gave an undignified squeak as Stratos dedicated a second hand to pinning him. His desperate attempts to scrabble loose intensified for a moment, his body audibly THUNKing against Stratos's shell- Venus, he had a lot of fight in him for someone who looked like he'd halfway starved to death before they'd found him. She had no clue where he found the energy.

In hindsight, she was glad that she'd met him through his attempts at bargaining. She'd hate to have seen what it would look like if she'd had to wrangle him through the whole Leipephilene mess without securing any kind of agreement first.

Delilah stalked closer, flowerling pinned under her arm. His scent had gone blank, but it did nothing to disguise the raw panic in his eyes. Even sedated, the flowerling was beginning to pick up on the energy in the room, its petals beginning to stir with pollen - she'd have to act fast, before it actually woke up.

"Bite this."

Scarlet's jaws met shell, and teeth locked around the flowerling in an instant.

Delilah winced, watching the seedling practically crumple inwards. Its petals flash-dried, its body going from healthy tan to a dry, shriveled white in an instant - that always looked brutal, especially if you weren't ready for it. He snapped his neck, scraping the dessicated corpse against Stratos's arms with what she was pretty sure was all the force he could muster before abruptly freezing.

Almost three seconds to realize he wasn't biting down on bug flesh. A new record, probably.

"Hand me the next one," she told Kabbu. Dutifully, he handed her the next of the sedated flowerlings, and she shoved it between his jaws before he could fully process that he'd been juked.

Scarlet was a pain to handle even at the best of times. Fortunately for her, he was also very, very predictable.

The second flowerling dropped out of his jaws - just a little bit less desiccated than the last - and Scarlet stopped his thrashing for a moment to stare at her, his antenna twitching frantically.

"Are you done yet?" she asked him.

From the expression on his face, you would've thought that she was trying to make small talk about the weather in the middle of a fiery apocalypse.

It was pretty clear that he wasn't going to respond to her after a few seconds, so she just kept talking. "It'd be a lot more convenient for me 'n my partner if you weren't trying to use him as a grindstone. Are you done?"

"...what?"

And that was the ant she was familiar with. She was surprised that he wasn't trying to open with the whole seductive act, honestly. Maybe she'd just confused him enough that he wasn't even trying. His voice sounded a bit hoarser than she was used to, but the raw confusion came across fine. Couldn't hide a whit of it even when he was squashing his scent.

"Just wanna make sure you're paying attention. Bit hard to talk when you're scratching your claws down to the quick."

And if the way that his antenna moved was any indication, he was paying attention now- though she was surprised that he was still using his antenna over his eyes, with the whole world crossing thing muddling the air. With the level of sensitivity he'd displayed the first time they'd met him, she'd be willing to bet it was messing with him a lot more than her - which, in hindsight, would probably be contributing to his whole giraffe-weevil thing, if he'd suddenly been stuck with a third of the range of scent without any notice.

"...well, you have it," he said- and there was the attempt at the seductive voice, he laid it on so thick that she could practically taste the sugar-coating. "What would such a handsome mosquito want of me?"

Delilah snorted. "I don't know, what would such a handsome ant want from me? I think I'm a bit old for you. You can't flatter your way out of being persecuted."

"Oh, but you were flattered." There was a musical lilt to his voice. "Please, if there's anything you need of me, be upfront about it- I certainly can't remember anything I might've done, but I'm sure I can spare some time for such a fine pair of bugs-"

"I already know about the murder. Kabbu's already told me about you trying to off Levi and Celia. Do you want to try again without lying?"

Scarlet paused, visibly rethinking his response. "I've done nothing that would need to be persecuted."

"You're a terrible liar," Delilah snorted. "Let me put it out better for you. You know about the world crossing. I'd bet you want to know what's going on as much as us. I'm willing to bet you probably want a hot meal and a place to stay, since you're still bumming it in random holes in the ground. You join up with us, and we get you somewhere to stay- unless you're planning on going back to hiding in the Grasslands?"

She could see the gears turning behind his eyes, the weighing of choices running behind his eyes - of course, he'd probably need something extra to tell him on it without the whole sudden-but-inevitable-betrayal part, at least for now. Wouldn't be that hard to come up with, really, but convincing him to take it would probably be an ordeal if he thought it was a trick of any kind.

"...I'd rather not risk my neck in service of a kingdom that clearly wants me dead," he started.

"We could arrest you instead," Delilah offered. His wings flickered in sudden panic.

"I'm sure it doesn't have to come to that," he offered. "If you let me go-"

"You'll run off into the Wildlands and we'll never see you again?" Delilah asked.

"...no."

Delilah snickered. "Well, if you're going to be so persuasive, let me pitch you a better offer. If you don't turn on us in the first day, you can drain a bit off of my partner."

He looked remarkably conflicted. Delilah could still see the temptation warring in his eyes. Food-motivated, she'd call it. At least it was easy to get a hold on.

"...and he would want to offer something like that?" Scarlet asked. She could see him brush an antenna over Stratos's shell. Probably looking for any sign of dissent in his scent.

"Call it a signing bonus. Or an incentive to stay on the line. You wouldn't turn up a bit of life from a dashing beetle, would you?"

He considered it. She could see the cogs shifting, the new weight on the scales.

"...fine. I don't see why I would refuse."

"Pleasure to have you on the team, then."

Stratos loosened his grip enough for Scarlet to maneuver just the slightest bit more, carefully angling his arm to show the gaps in his chitin as much as he could

Predictably, it took him a few seconds to figure out the exact angle. Scarlet's fangs slid into the flesh of Stratos's arm, looking patently ridiculous with how much he had to strain to fit his mandibles over the beetle's chitin, and she allowed a moment for him to try and actually work his teeth in there before actually looking away.

"Pleasure doin' business with you, then. Now, if you don't mind, I'll need to do some talking with my partners here. Stratos?"

"Doin' fine. He's th' size of a starved mantis nymph, you don't have to worry 'bout me,"

"Right. We'll bring him back to the house, 'less you needed anything with him-" Delilah turned, dusting her paws off, and saw Team Snakemouth staring in utter disbelief.

Kabbu shook himself out of his shock first. "Shouldn't we bring him to-?"

"He's a mimic, not an actual drone," Delilah dismissed. "Elizant won't have much use for him unless she's aiming to recruit parasites."

Vi had moved ever so slightly closer, staring at the bite on Stratos's arm. "Doesn't that hurt?"

Stratos shrugged with his mimic-less arm. "He's not that big, It's just a couple of pinpricks. Might be more for you, since you've got less body for the venom to disperse in."

"He's venomous?" Vi squinted furiously at his fangs. "He doesn't look like..."

"They mentioned that already, Vi," Leif said. "Didn't you listen?"

"Well, yeah, but he doesn't look like he has a stinger-"

"Not the only way to get venom in you. 'sides, he's a mimic. Just looks like an ant. It's not an acid like normal ant venom, anyways. I wouldn't worry too much about it. Worst case scenario, it'll have you feeling like death warmed over for a bit, but you'll be fine after."

Scarlet had gone still against Stratos's shell by now - probably listening in, from what she knew of him. He really wasn't as subtle as he tried to present himself, but if things held true across universes, he would probably get even cagier if she brought it up.

He had been one hell of a useful resource the last time they'd picked him up - even if the interference did mess with his ability to sense other bugs, she'd bet that he'd still have a better grasp on it than her, and having someone around who could sense ant pheromone signage was incredibly useful once she could talk one of the ants into talking about what the markings actually meant.

"If there's anything else you'd like to ask about, ask now. He'll probably fed enough to bring out soon, and then we'll be on our way."

"There is one thing-" Kabbu started, but he was stopped as Leif pulled him back.

"No, we think that'll be all. Good luck with your... whatever you need him for," Leif said.

The mimic made a slight hiss as Stratos slung him over his back, like steam out of a kettle, but didn't fight - just twitched a bit, as if he was already resigned to what was happening. Probably a good thing, all things considered. She didn't want to have to catch him again, and she was willing to bet that he didn't really want to end up on the wrong end of her cannon.

"We'll see you back at the Association if we learn anything new." Delilah said. "Just drop us a line if you find anything. This is the most exciting thing in any of the Kingdoms in years - we're not going to waste it. Good luck with your adventuring!"

Scarlet had been a very, very useful informant the first time around. Delilah just hoped he'd be the same this run.

[viva-la-whump]

Febuwhump Day 3

@febuwhump

This one's a little late, but my next (quite short) entry has finally arrived!!

"BITE DOWN ON THIS"

“Here, bite down on this.” The doctor handed Eli Vanto a thick leather belt and he fitted it between his teeth with shaking hands.

He was lying prone on a table, his shirt off to expose the bullet hole on his lower left side – the wound that still had a bullet in it. Eli barely had any warning before the doc poured some whiskey over it and jammed a pair of tweezers into the bloody hole to dig out the bullet.

Eli’s eyes went wide, dots dancing in his vision, and screamed, the sound barely muffled by the belt. His hands found the edge of the table in a white-knuckle grip and he braced his forehead against the wooden surface. Soon, though not soon enough, the old sawbones was done and Eli heard the plink as the bullet was dropped into a metal bowl.

He lay there for a moment, panting, sweat beading on his brow.

“You’re lucky,” the doc said as he stitched and bandaged the wound. Eli winced at his ministrations. “A little bit over and that would have hit your pelvis. Then you would’ve been in real trouble.”

“Yeah, ‘luck’,” Eli said bitterly as he gingerly levered himself up to a seated position on the table.

The doc handed him his shirt and placed a comforting hand on Eli’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry about your  partner, lad. Rik was a good man.”

But he’d been more than that. Detective Rik Virgilio had been his mentor, his friend, and the closest thing Eli had had to a father figure for nearly his entire life. It was him who’d pulled Eli from the gutter after he’d returned from war and gave him a new life as a detective – a man he could be proud of. And now he was gone.  What was Eli going to do now? What was his life without Rik there to guide and support him? Eli wasn’t sure he could do that himself.

Senior Detective Yularen was giving him two weeks off to rest and recover. He supposed he’d use that time to do a little thinking about his future as well…

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Day 3: "Bite down on this" / Dissociation

@febuwhump prompt: "Bite down on this" @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Dissociation

Fandom: Iron Kingdoms Characters: OC Rosa DiMerrion, OC Kovnik Marchev, OC Koldun Varril Set in the 'Fallen Llael' AU: Llael has been overrun by the dead, and Khador fight to re-take the occupied territory Word Count: ~810 Click here to read on AO3

Synopsis: Rosa is sentenced to corporal punishment after the Khadorans discover she has been stealing supplies with forged requisition orders.

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

“You’re really going through with this?”

“It’s not your place to question me, Kovnik.”

The rank was a pointed reminder. Marchev bristled, then sighed it away.

“This won’t have the effect you want. She won’t learn from it. You’ll push her further away.”

Varril spared him a disdainful glance, brows furrowed beneath his Koldun’s furred cap. “She must understand that actions have consequences.”

“Will you permit me to speak to her?”

The tall Greylord frowned in displeasure, and he looked away to the subject of their debate. “Very well,” he said, words clipped and cold. “For all the difference it will make.”

Marchev crossed to the centre of the parade ground, to the lone figure lashed to the post there. She was shivering in the cold, already stripped to the waist, her long brown hair falling forwards to preserve her modesty. Not that the Khadorans cared about that; all that mattered was that her back was bare, ready for the lash.

“Sergeant,” he said softly, and she raised her head at his approach. She wasn’t crying, she was too proud for that. But now he was close, he could see the pallor of fear beneath her dusky skin.

“Are you hoping I’ll confess my sins?” she bit out, although the chattering of her teeth belied her determined scowl.

The Kovnik held his hand up placatingly, shaking his head. “You were found guilty at court-martial,” he said with resignation. “What you plead now makes no difference.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To help the only way I can.”

He leaned in close, producing a small coil of leather from inside his coat. He held it to her face.

“Bite down on this. It will help.”

Fury flashed in her eyes. “I won’t give him the satisfaction,” she snarled through bared teeth, her glare fixing on the Koldun Lord who stood impassively at the edge of the parade ground.

“Please.” Marchev’s plea was barely a murmur. “Rosa.”

She looked to him sharply as he said her name. She was unused to hearing it now. But Marchev knew how tightly she clung to the truth of her origins, and he invoked her name like a charm to bind her to him.

For a long moment she held his gaze, and in her eyes he read the glimmer of fear behind the defiance that she had made her armour.

“No.”

-----

The first lash was all it took to split the tender skin of her back and draw from her the scream she had been so determined to swallow.

This was it. Punished for helping the only way she knew how. She gasped through the pain, drawing in short, sharp breaths of frosted Khadoran air. The wound on her back was a line of fire and shame, blazing red-hot as she wrapped her fingers round the leather bonds at her wrists and hugged closer to the post, burying her face against the impassive wood.

A second lash. She wailed again, ashamed of her reaction, unable to control it. Then she grit her teeth, clenching them so tightly that her jaw ached.

She bore the third blow with silent fortitude, breath hissing through her bared teeth. Sweat beaded on her skin despite the cold, and she glared through the untamed strands of her hair at the Greylord stood opposite. He was watching her intensely, and despite the distance she knew the scowl he would be wearing intimately. It was the expression he always wore when they met.

No, she wouldn’t break to this. And, although he hadn’t said it, he didn’t expect her to. This was all an act. Of course there was a punishment; the forged requisition order, the stolen alchemy kit, that had to be reckoned. But in the silences between his words Varril had been impressed. Her alchemical knowledge was an unexpected asset, even if her ingenuity in acquiring her ingredients had frustrated him. He didn’t intend this punishment to cow her.

It was an exchange. A bargain. This was the price she paid to have access to her alchemy. Varril couldn’t be seen to condone her theft; there had to be retribution.

Rosa.

Marchev’s words had grounded her. She wore a new identity now, an Umbrean sergeant, a false name and life that she could shed like a second skin if it no longer suited her. It was easy to die on the battlefield. Easy to reinvent herself elsewhere.

Rosa.

Just an exchange. A price to be paid.

The lash bit a fourth time, but her senses were hazed and the pain did not seem so intense this time. This wasn’t happening to her. Not really. Sergeant Varyatoma was being punished. The false name she wore did not touch her core. Rosa would survive.

Rosa was the name she had chosen for herself, and she would always survive.

[swan2swan]

Whoever conceived and animated this moment, I hope they're doing well and thriving. This is S-rank romance stuff here.

[eastgaysian]

[cynicalone94]

"Bite Down On This"

Read on AO3 here.

Jay ducks as gunfire rings out around them. 

The ambush had come out of nowhere as they’d moved toward their target, sending the team scrambling for cover. 

Nobody is even supposed to know that they’re here and now they’re under attack and pinned down behind enemy lines. 

Like the others, he’s firing suppressive cover fire, watching for any flanking attempts and searching for an exit strategy. 

A high pitched whistling sound catches his attention and he looks up to see a projectile flying toward them. 

“Eli!” he shouts, diving toward his closest teammate and slamming him out of the path of the projectile. 

They are both pushed further clear by the force of the blast, slamming into a rock formation. 

Jay falls back to the ground, rolling to his back with a groan. 

“Halstead! Crawford!” 

He sits up, pressing a hand to the side of his head. 

“I’m good.” he calls back. 

“That’s a stretch.” Eli says and he glances over to see him scrambling closer on his hands and knees. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Shoulder got to know the rocks really well but I’ll be okay.” Eli says. “But you’re bleeding.”

“Am I?” he says, pulling his hand away from his head and looking at it. 

“Not your head.” Eli says, opening the pouch on his vest and unfurling a pressure bandage. “Your leg.”

Jay looks down, seeing the blood pooling under his leg and the messy looking wound on his thigh. 

Then Eli is pressing the bandage over the top of the injury. 

“Can you bend your knee?” he asks and Jay nods, slowly dragging his foot closer to his body, bending his knee to lift his thigh off the ground so that Eli can wrap the bandage around his leg. 

Once it’s been tied off, Jay pulls his gun closer. 

“We need to get out of here.” he says, looking over at Sergeant Carter who has moved closer to them. 

The man nods. 

“We’re fish in a barrel for these guys.” he confirms. “Can you walk, Jay?”

“I can manage.” he says. “If Eli will help me?”

“I got you, man.”

“Alright.” Carter says, glancing around. “Let’s move.”

Jay struggles to his feet, leaning heavily on Eli and hefting his gun higher. 

Carter points to the Northeast. 

“We’ll hunker down in the mountains and wait for backup to get here.” he says. 

It’s a longer walk to said rock formations than Jay likes but he nods. 

The squad collapses in and he tries to ignore the way that them forming a protective barrier around him makes him feel. 

He’s become a liability. One that might get someone else killed. 

But trying to insist that they go on without him will just slow the whole team’s progress so he grits his teeth and pushes forward. 

He sees movement at their ten o’clock. 

“Jerry, down.” he snaps, waiting a split second for his friend to drop before taking his shot. 

His AK-47 isn’t as accurate as his sniper rifle and shooting left handed while standing up doesn’t offer much support but they don’t call him ‘Ricky’ for nothing and he wings the man. 

They push forward, reaching the foothills and quickly disappearing in the rocky formations. 

They move deeper into the hills until they find a ravine and set up a defensible position. 

“Alright.” Carter says. “We’ve got some time before they’ll be able to get an extraction team in so we need to hold this position down. Let’s plan on staying down and out of sight for as long as possible.”

“What about the target?” Jay asks. “If we lose him here it might take years to track him down again.”

“They saw us coming.” Carter says. “Halstead we are under fire here.”

“They are expecting us to go to ground and wait for backup.” Jay argues. “They’d never see us coming.”

“You can barely walk.” he scoffs. “They’d see you coming a mile away.”

“Which is what makes me a great distraction.” Jay says. “I’ll take the high ground, pick them off from a distance and sell the idea that we’re all there. Meanwhile the rest of you take care of business.”

“We are not leaving you alone on the mountainside somewhere.” Carter growls. 

“I’ll stay with him.” Eli offers. “Cover his six while he does his one man army thing.”

“You and I both know that a high risk extraction behind enemy lines won’t be a priority.” Jay says quietly. “If we get the job done…”

“Puts more pressure on the brass.” Carter finishes. “Might speed up the extraction.”

Jay points to a ridge. 

“Won’t take us long to get up there.” he says. 

“You mean won’t take me long to carry you.” Eli jokes. 

“Just make sure you don’t leave behind the whiskey I brought.” Jay shoots back. 

“Alright.” Carter says. “I don’t love it but Halstead is right. It can only help our cause to get the job done. Crawford, stick with him. Get his blown up ass up to that ridge. The rest of us will start making our move toward the target.”

Jay reaches out a hand which Eli quickly takes, helping him to his feet. 

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Carter orders. 

Jay nods. 

He sinks into position on the ridge with a groan. 

“You’re bleeding through the bandage.” Eli comments. “I thought it would have stopped by now.”

“It’s all the walking.” Jay says. “It’ll stop soon.”

“I don’t think so.” Eli says. “Jay, that’s a lot of blood.”

“Unless you’ve got a trauma surgeon in your first aid kit, I’m not sure what else we can do out here.” Jay says, shaking his head. “It’s too high up for a tourniquet.”

“We could cauterize.” Eli offers, biting his lip. 

Jay grimaces. 

“We’ve got work to do.” he says. 

“Even you can’t pretend to be an entire squad if you pass out from blood loss.” Eli argues. “You look like shit, man.”

“Fine.” Jay says. “But make it fast.”

Eli nods, retrieving his lighter and combat knife. 

Jay sets up his gun on the ledge, scanning for possible targets. ISIS members will be combing these hills looking for his team and all it will take is a glimmer of movement for him to set his plan into action. 

Plus it’s a good distraction from the fact that Eli wants to burn him.

He’s right. They need to stop the bleeding and this is the best option but that doesn’t mean that Jay has to like it. 

“Hey.” Eli says, drawing his attention behind him. “I’m ready.”

Jay sets the gun aside and rolls over, sitting up. 

Eli cuts the pressure bandage off, cuts the pant leg away and then splashes water from his canteen to clear some of the blood away from the wound. 

It still looks ugly and fresh blood immediately takes the place of what had been washed away. 

Eli glances back at where he’d propped his knife, heating from the lighter. 

“Bite down on this, okay?”

Jay takes the stick that he’s holding out with a grimace and slots it between his teeth, biting down. 

Eli picks up the knife, catching his eye. 

Jay nods and the man doesn’t hesitate, pressing the flat of the blade against the blood pooling on his leg. 

A muffled groan breaks free and he bites hard on the stick, both hands clenching into tight fists. 

He can smell burning flesh and closes his eyes, breathing in short pants through his nose. 

Finally, a hand falls on his shoulder. 

“All done.” Eli says. “Take a minute and catch your breath.”

“No.” Jay grunts, opening his mouth and letting the stick fall to the ground. “No, we’ve got work to do.”

“Damn it, Jay.” Eli grumbles. 

But he unwraps another pressure bandage, securing it over Jay’s leg. 

“At least keep it from getting infected.” he says, shaking his head. 

As soon as it’s in place, Jay rolls back onto his stomach and adjusts his rifle. 

He sees a flash of movement in the trees far below them and pops off a shot. He doesn’t make contact, the risk of it being an innocent civilian too high, but he gets it close enough. 

The possibility of an innocent goes out the window as someone shoots back. Jay’s next shot doesn’t miss. 

As time passes, he sees more and more movement in the trees and the men are getting closer and closer to them. 

“Bastards are closing in.” Eli says tightly. 

“We move down the ridge a hundred feet or so it might buy us some time.” Jay says, pulling back his rifle and struggling to his feet. 

“You up for that?” Eli asks, even as he moves closer, sliding under Jay’s left arm. 

“More up for that than getting shot or captured by ISIS.” Jay retorts. 

Eli sighs and starts dragging him along the ridge. 

It’s slow going and they don’t make it far before Jay can’t walk any further and Eli helps him drop back down to a prone position. 

“You should go.” he gasps. “I’ll keep their attention. You can link up with the rest of the squad.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Eli growls. 

“We are sitting ducks up here.” Jay says. “Especially with my leg. If you go now you can disappear.”

“Just shut up, asshole.” Eli says. “It’s not happening.”

Jay grits his teeth and settles down, dropping another man as he climbs the ridge. 

There are only a few passable paths up the ridge which keeps their attackers in a bottle neck. 

Its the approach behind them that has him concerned. 

Almost like he’d summoned them, he hears movement behind them. 

He doesn’t look back, trusting Eli to cover his six. 

A single shot rings out. 

“The back approach is getting messy on us.” he growls. 

“Still time for you to get the hell out of here.” Jay retorts. 

“Still time for you to shut the fuck up.” Eli snarls. 

“Then lets take as many of these assholes with us as we can.” Jay replies, firing off another shot. 

“Now that’s a sentiment that I can get behind.” 

It’s nearly on top of them before he hears the chopper over the sound of gunfire but as he turns to look over his shoulder, Sergeant Carter is leaning out of the bay. 

“You emotionally attached to this suicide mission?” the man calls. “Or should we all get the hell out of here?”

Nobody waits for his response, his brothers in arms flooding out of the chopper to cover them as Eli drags him to the chopper. 

His leg won’t even consider supporting his weight at this point but they make it all the same and the rest of the team falls back, laying down cover fire to keep the attackers at bay as the craft rises into the air. 

Jay sits back, breathing hard and resting a hand over his throbbing leg. 

“You got him.” 

It’s not really a question. He knows his team, knows they got the job done. 

“We got him.” Carter confirms. “Now let’s get you to a doctor, huh?”

“If we must.” Jay says, closing his eyes. 

They’ll wake him up if anything interesting happens.

Until then, he needs a nap. 

[dismalzelenka]

Febuwhump 3 - "Bite down on this."

It's only a matter of time before I spin something into a supernatural western AU. This isn't developed AT ALL, this is purely Vibes from when I briefly woke up at 4am and couldn't fall back asleep. :V

Pairing: Gale/Tav Warnings: stab wound + poison

Read From Beginning || Previous || Next

The knife jutting out of Gale's ribs would have been a gruesome enough sight without the pink foam that occasionally gurgles up on his lips. Poison, readily apparent from the sour scent of the blood in his mouth. Miriam dabs at his forehead with a damp rag and chews anxiously on her lip as the witch healer she's dragged him to scans his body with palms glowing faintly with diagnostic magic.

“He's going to live,” the witch pronounces. “Drawing on the spirits is not an easy process, however. For myself or for those being healed.”

“Do it,” Miriam says firmly.

“The process itself could very well kill him in the attempt.”

Miriam resists the urge to press her pistol against the woman's chest. “I said do it,” she repeats.

“Very well,” the witch says. The long black plait down her back sways as she nods in acknowledgement.

“Here, my love,” Miriam whispers as the witch begins to chant. She grabs a length of leather from her bag and gently wipes Gale's lips again before slipping it into his mouth. “Bite down on this for me. That's it.”

Gale manages to tense his jaw enough to do as he's told, though it's not without a pained whimper that sends an agonizing shiver through his body. Miriam shushes him encouragingly and grabs his hand into a tight squeeze. “You're doing so well,” she murmurs. “Stay with me, Gale, you're doing so well.”

A deafening shriek pierces the hut, and every candle immediately flickers out and the entire room is plunged into darkness. Sickly green light illuminates the witch’s hands as the room fills with dissonant whispers in a thousand different languages. Gale’s back arches off of the table as his jaw clamps down on the leather strap with a groan, his hand squeezing hers so hard she can feel her knuckles grinding together in his grip. “Stay with me,” she repeats. She chants it like a mantra as she brushes sweaty strands of hair from his forehead and prays — for the first time — to gods she doesn’t even believe in.

The storm of energy in the room quiets all at once. Gale relaxes in her grip, eyes still closed, chest heaving in shuddering breaths. The knife has somehow disappeared from his chest, his skin whole and unblemished behind the sizeable rip in his shirt.

“Is he going to be okay, ma’am?” Miriam croaks.

“It’s Shadowheart,” the witch says without looking up from the pots she’s organizing across the room. “And that’s up to the powers that be now. All we can do is wait.”

[frownyalfred]

“Scream if you have to,” is such a terrifying phrase to hear from Bruce. But I think the Batkids actually need to hear it — whether they’re getting a bad break reset, or having a wound cauterized, or something else extremely painful — it can be a relief to know you’re allowed to yell and make noise. Relieving to know that Bruce says it’s okay to scream.

[lazylittledragon]

and what if they got married. what then

[jedi-starbird]

The JA books and subsequent woobification of padawan Obi-Wan have people overlooking a key fact, which is the innate ability of all 14 yr olds to immediately lock onto your deepest insecurities and fucking eviscerate you. You look at TCW Obi-Wan's bitchiness and tell me he did not have this ability but dialled up to 11 cause he's also a psychic force-sensitive.

I fully believe padawan Obi-Wan was terrorising Qui-Gon, the reason that man's always running ahead and leaving his padawan behind is because he's avoiding having to explain his life choices to the galaxy's most judgemental teenager. Initiate Obi-Wan is aggressive, padawan Obi-Wan is passive-aggressive.

[noxcheshire]

Back at it again with my Danny is mom coded au’s, but this time it’s because of Clockwork that he suddenly has a whole ass teenage kid.

Clockwork had been bored or maybe he was playing a game against an opponent, or even lost a bet, whatever it was, he stepped in right as Jason was searching for his biological mother.

The DNA that would have registered itself as one Sheila Haywood, confirming Jason’s mother, glitched a terrible green across the screens of the batcomputer.

In those few moments of chaos Jason’s heart beat rapidly as he tried to figure out why the computer wasn’t working, wondering if his only chance to find his mom — his blood mom — would never find success.

Then as suddenly as things went wrong the DNA settled and pinged.

Jason watched, his chest tight, as one Danny C. Works, formerly Danny Fenton appeared onto the big screen.

Danny looked a lot like Jason, short cut black hair more straight than the subtle curls of Jason’s own; deep blue eyes, tired in a way that spoke of long days and nights, but with a warm happiness that made the familiar smile — the one Jason would see on himself every time he looked into the mirror — even more striking.

Jason didn’t linger too long on the male identifying gender, nor the fact his mom leaned more towards a masculine name or clothing.

There were plenty of male to female, and female to male leaning individuals that lived in Crime Alley. He had seen it enough to not even bat an eye at it, even now. After all, in Gotham you minded your business least you find yourself in business you can’t leave.

On a different monitor information of Danny C. Works piled for Jason to quickly browse through.

Danny was a senior engineer, no intimate relationships, and with no close connections to family outside of the tentative calls from Jasmine Fenton.

Danny was estranged from Jack and Madeline Fenton, a falling out that had occurred just a little before Danny’s high school graduation. If Jason calculated it correctly that would have been — around the season Jason himself would have been born.

Okay, so no grandparents then but I might have a maybe aunt. Jason scrolled further and stilled.

Twin toddlers: Dante and Danielle Works.

Jason had baby siblings.

He doesn’t let the sting of younger siblings consume him, doesn’t allow the whispering thoughts of why he had been given up when his younger siblings had been kept and so very obviously loved.

Jason took deep breathes, he didn’t have time to linger here. He had a family to get to, and a family he would get to.

It took almost all night to reach, the starlight night sky slowly and surely fading into cloudy wine as the sun rose, but Jason made it.

And when the door opened to his hesitant but firm knock, Jason was unable to speak. His mom — dad, maybe? Did they want to be mom or dad? — stood in the doorway, brows furrowed in confusion.

It was when Danny spoke his vigilante name did Jason only just realize that he was still dressed to the nine’s in his Robin costume.

[pawbeanies]

hey can we play fight tonight?? can we tussle a bit?? i'm full of energy can i try sooo hard to pin you down and bite you only for you to look at me like i'm adorable and pin me down with one hand like i'm nothing??? perhaps??? ill put it in your outlook calendar and you can rsvp perhaps????

[hailsatanacab]

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."

[umblrspectrum]

hi heres art so you pay attention to me now go read the tags

[bluerosefox]

Possessed Pearl's

You know how in some ghost stories sometimes its not a person or a land that's haunted but the items?

Well what if, when looking for a mother's day gift for his mom, Danny is looking around a pawn shop and finds a necklace, it's missing some pearls but it's just enough to pass off as a decent gift. Danny humms but decides against it and goes to leave it....

That was until he gasped out blue frost and spots a ghostly woman appear out of the necklace with a somber smile. She isn't as seeable as the other ghosts in Amity though, meaning she doesn't have enough ectoplasm on her own (that might change the longer she's in Amity and around Danny though) and that right now only Danny can see her.

And Danny well... hes been doing his hero gig for a bit now, might go and ask if there was anything he can do to help.

And later Danny's good deed... bites him back. Oh boy. Because now he has the Bats looking into Amity Park... Wait what do you mean Martha is now strong enough to be seen?!