#ai-less whumptober day ten

[th3sp4rr0w]

Day Ten

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Ten Branding/Scarring/Collar

Alt. Prompt For Day Ten Bullied

Prompts Used for Day Ten Branding, Scarring, Bullied

Tw's; Death Mention, Mentioned Experimentation, Panic Attack

Chapter Ten under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Being able to hold his baby again brought up so many emotions.  

Sure, he had given him affection while he was injured. Soft touches and forehead kisses he’d never be able to remember, locked away by the worst two weeks of his life forever. The whispered words of encouragement hung in the air until they were no longer needed, fading away into whisps you only catch glimpses of.  

It hadn’t been what either one wanted or needed. Now that he could hold him without fear of aggravating his injuries, he could hold him close to his chest, breathing in his scent. Talia had gotten up a while ago and was awkwardly hanging around, probably waiting to escort them out.  

He’d have to apologize to her later. He knew he’d been a jerk. He’d make it up to her someday.  

For now, he smoothed down his child’s hair, thumbing over the small white patch gently. He had never had it before; he assumed it was the effect of the pits. When they got back to the plane he was going to give him as full a medical work up as he could, take his temperature, see how the burns had healed-  

“Papa?” he asked.  

That was another thing. Neither of his kids had ever consistently called him anything except for Bruce and B. After he came back, Jason had exclusively called him papa, willingly climbing into his lap and clinging to him. He tried not to show it, but he was worried; it was such a stark personality change-  

“Yes, sweetheart?”  

“Can I get some water, please?”  

He and Talia made eye contact. He slowly moved them so his legs were hanging off the bed, “Yes,” he grunted, standing up. “Lets get you back to the plane so we can get you home.”  

Talia nodded. She briskly walked over to them, grabbing the cot herself and wheeling it out as Bruce carried his boy.  

He was already planning on giving him some more hydrating I.V. fluids, but debating on removing his nasogastric tube. He was awake and alert, so it’s not like he needed it anymore.  

… Lesli and Alfred would kill him and nobody would ever find his body. Dick would probably help them and there was only a few other people who would care, all of which would support their decision after hearing what he’d done. He decided against it.  

They boarded the plane and Bruce rushed him over to the med bay. Talia came in with the cot, wheeling it to the center of the small area.  

“Thank you,” he grunted, placing Jason down gently.  

She nodded. Then she was gone. That was just how it was when they were together; it was passionate, and possessive, and it left them wanting more than they knew they could have. They always had to be gone by morning.  

He still held the zebra. His hospital gown was splattered with Lazarus waters.  

“Alright,” Bruce muttered, “I’m going to do an exam really quick.” He grabbed a water bottle and handed it to Jason, who opened it.  

Jason nodded, playing with the zebra’s mane with one hand and holding the opened bottle with the other. “Before we do that, can I, um...”  

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked.  

“I’m cold,” he said, looking up at Bruce with puppy dog eyes he knew had come straight from Dick’s book. “I think I have some sweats in here. Can I change into them?”  

Bruce sighed. “I’m sorry, Jaylad, I need to check you over. I can grab you a blanket,” he offered, turning around to look in the cabinet. Dick ran cold, so he always kept a stash somewhere in most of his various cars, planes, what have you.  

“Okay, papa,” he said sweetly.  

Bruce brought down some thick blankets and watched as Jason piled them on. He didn’t question it; he was just glad he was sitting here.  

Bruce checked his forehead temperature first. 96; no wonder he was cold. He’d be back into range shortly.  

He checked joints next, bumping his knees to check their reflex. He checked them off in his head while he did them.  

“Jaylad?” he asked.  

“Yeah, papa?”  

He took a deep breath. “Can you tell me your full name?”  

“Jason Peter Todd-Wayne,” he said immediately.  

“Remember these words; ball, dog, house. Can you do that for me?” Jason nodded, so he continued, “What’s your birthday?”  

“Augast 16 th , 2007,” he said.  

“Good, you’re doing very good,” he praised. He didn’t have ear checkers or anything like that, but he did have a flashlight pen on him. He shined the light into his eyes as he asked; “Do you know the date today?”  

“Umm... No.”  

“That’s okay,” he muttered, brushing a wayward curl out of his face. “That was perhaps a little dumb on my part, of course you wouldn’t know the date today.”  

Jason giggled brightly. It was like hearing magic. Bruce hadn’t even realized how much he’d missed it. “Yeah, it was a little dumb,” he agreed.  

Bruce tried not to smirk. That would only encourage him.  

“How about this,” he said instead, beginning to check his head for any tenderness, “What’s the last date you remember?”  

“Um, April 8 th ,” he replied. Bruce hummed.  

Most people didn’t remember their traumas right after they happened. He had dared to hope Jason was part of that majority.  

“Okay, chum,” he said, brushing hair gently with his fingers so he could separate it and get a better look at the scalp underneath, “Can you tell me what we did?”  

“We went to Ethiopia for... a case,” he avoided mentioning that name, “And you saw me awake working on a project,” he continued. “You told me to go to bed and that we’d sight-see. You took me to a lot of different buildings, and we went to get souvenirs for people,” his eyes widened a bit, sitting up straighter. “Did you give Alfie and Dick their presents?”  

Bruce grunted. “No. Figured you’d want to do that,” he said.  

Jason relaxed immediately. “Thank you,” he said.  

Bruce grunted in lieu of, ‘you’re welcome’. “What else do you remember?”  

“Um... we came back to the hotel to get ready for patrol,” he said quietly. “You left Flynn on my bed. I... I didn’t even see you get him for me.”  

Bruce hummed. “You remember more than I thought you would,” he said softly.  

Jason nodded, hugging the Flynn a little tighter. “... Papa?”  

“Yes, Jason?”  

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately.  

Bruce paused. “Sorry for what, chum?”  

Jason looked up at him. His hand tangled in Flynn’s mane. “I... I messed up.” He took a deep breath.  

Bruce stayed silent, offering his hand to the boy. Sometimes silence and a little bit of support went a long way.  

He took it. “I let you down,” he said. “I- she, mmm.” He trailed off, looking at his lap.  

“I was talking with her. Before we went, I mean,” he admitted quietly. “She didn’t want you to know. I think she just wanted to manipulate me for money,” he admitted.  

Bruce’s heart broke. “You don’t have to talk about it, sweetheart.  

Jason nodded and braced himself. “It started when I got sick and Dick brought me all those files.”  

Bruce was patient as Jason went through the whole story. He still preformed the medical exam as he went. He never interrupted Jason, other than to ask what the words he said were. He didn’t hesitate saying them before continuing on to prove to Bruce that Sheila was the biggest piece of shit he’d ever heard of.  

He remembered that case. He remembered the mom screaming that she had not given her kid permission and now she was dead, and all she could think about was that she hadn’t checked on her that night before she went to bed. It was the girl’s father that had taken her to get surgery from a back-alley surgeon to save money.  

“Jason?” he asked.  

Jason paused from where he was ranting about how stupid he’d been. “... Yes?”  

He put his hands on his shoulders. “It’s not your fault,” he said firmly.  

“But-”  

“Nope,” he said. He finished up the exam, sitting on the bed. “Did you ever find your mom’s file?” he asked.  

Jason flushed and nodded.  

“Then you know I left it blank. Do you want to know why?”  

He nodded again.  

“I had tracked her down to Ethiopia,” he started, wrapping an arm around Jason’s shoulders. “She had only been there for maybe a month, and she was thriving, for the most part. When I cornered her in an alley when she was coming home from work, she begged me not to take her back to New Jersey because she had a kid buried here,” he said gently.  

Jason looked suddenly angry. “She lied.”  

“... What?”  

“Well, I don’t know to who,” he amended, “But-” he groaned. “She told me that my older brother choked to death and my twin got swapped with someone else’s dying kid,” he said.  

Bruce’s expression darkened. “She said what?”  

Jason looked over to him, somewhat desperate. “We have to find him. They should know,” he pleaded.  

He thought about what he would do if Jason or Dick got swapped for other kids. He’d want to know. He’d still care for whatever children needed it, he thinks, but he’d... he’d want to know.  

“Of course,” he said softly. “But, at the time,” he continued, “I didn’t know about all this. She cried. Said that night was her biggest mistake and she’d just wanted to help. That she had been desperate to treat her own kids herself since she didn’t have any money to take them to the doctor and lost them both because of it.”  

Jason looked at the floor. “You believed her.”  

“I believed her,” he echoed. “Trusting someone and wanting to believe them isn’t stupid, Jace. It makes you a good person, a better person than them, anyways. It means you want to see the best in people, even when they don’t deserve it,” he kissed his temple. “I’m sorry she didn’t deserve it.”  

Jason let himself fall sideways and into Bruce’s arms. He held him for a few minutes in silence.  

He stared at his cheek, brushing his thumb over the mark. He still didn’t know how to tell Jason about it. That was, until the curtain of silence gently pulled away.  

“I have scars now,” his voice was neutral and soft, “Don’t I?”  

“Yes.”  

He took a deep breath. “The J he carved is still there, isn’t it.”  

Bruce put a hand in his hair. “Yes.”  

He hummed. “I want to see,” he said softly.  

“Jaylad-”  

“Please, papa,” he whispered. He looked up at Bruce. “I don’t want the first time I see it to be when I’m alone. If Dick sees it before I do, he’s going to make it sound worse than it is because he loves me and he’s worried but it’s going to get me freaked out and then, even after I see it, I’ll think it is worse than it is. If I need to live with it, I want to prepare myself first.”  

He couldn’t argue with it. He helped Jason sit up and got up himself, finding a hand-held mirror he kept in the plane for Babs when she tagged along for missions and handing it to him. At first, he kept it pointed to the ceiling. He played with Flynn’s soft mane before taking a deep breath and looking.  

His eyes widened. “Whoa,” he said softly.  

Bruce stayed silent as Jason turned his head back and forth, pinching the white shock of hair in his bangs. “I think this might get in the way,” he muttered.  

He kept looking in the mirror. His eyes trailed down to his arms and hands. His eyes scraped over the flesh of his legs, using the mirror to check the back of them. He whistled. “I’m gonna have to wear pants this summer, aren’t I?” he joked.  

Bruce snorted. It was never “shorts weather” in Gotham. It was like the city was allergic to anything besides “foggy overcast”.  

The gown slipped below his shoulder as he grinned up at Bruce. When he looked back in the mirror, he furrowed his brow. He angled it different ways before sliding the gown off the other shoulder and looking there.  

“Jason? What’s wrong?”  

He made a small sound. “I... where are my scars?”  

“What.”  

“Not those,” he amended, “My other ones. From before the warehouse,” he clarified.  

Bruce looked more closely. The small scar hidden by his hairline he’d had forever was missing upon closer inspection. That shouldn’t have...  

He knew what scar Jason was looking for. The day his mom died...  

Well. Willis was never the most reasonable or rational man. Jason wore that scar like a badge of honor, saying it brought him closer to Cathrine. He’d talked about getting the date she was born and the date she died around the scar as a memorial tattoo.  

He checked the boy’s shoulders himself. It was gone.  

“No...” he muttered. His fists clenched, bringing themselves down on the cot. “No!” he shouted. “No, he doesn’t get to take this away from me! He’s already taken enough, why does that bastard get this, too-”  

“Jason,” he said, catching his fists. “It’s okay. We can think of something else,” he promised.  

Jason looked up at him, his baby blues a light shade of green. “I hate him,” he snarled.  

“That’s okay,” he said as soothingly as he could.  

“I want him to die.”  

“That’s okay, too.”  

He made a sound like he was dying. “Why does he get this too?” he asked, voice fragile. “I want my mom. My actual mom, not that two-faced lying blonde bitch-”  

“It’s okay,” he said and put a hand over his shoulder. “It’s okay. You miss her. You loved her. I know all you wanted was to have a mom again, sweetheart. That’s okay,” he said, his voice low.  

“When we get back to Gotham, can we visit her?”  

Bruce found himself nodding immediately. “Why don’t we make a day out of it? We can visit mine and Dickie’s parents, if he wants to,” he promised.  

“That sounds nice,” he said softly. “Can I bring an Austen book? Mom could never choose a favorite anything, but Jane Austen-”  

“Was her favorite author,” Bruce finished, smiling. “Yeah. We can make that happen.” he took a deep breath. “Maybe I’ll bring along a book of my own. My mom loved Heidi by Johanna Spyri.”  

Jason looked at him. “Really?”  

Bruce smiled softly. “Yeah. She used to read it to me every night.”  

“What’s it about?” he asked.  

“A little girl, Heidi, is being raised by her aunt after her parents pass away. She never wanted kids, and she hates having to take care of her. She’s out of work, and struggling financially when she finds a job, but she can’t take Heidi with her. She finds her sister-in-law’s father in the mountains and tells him he needs to take care of her now. He didn’t want to raise another child after losing his daughter, but Heidi was determined to get him to come out of his shell. Just when she gets settled in, her aunt comes back and takes her to live with her and the family she works as a nanny and maid for,” he glanced at Jason, who had stars in his eyes. “I don’t know what happens after that.”  

“Why not?”  

Bruce was silent a moment. “Mom never got to finish reading it to me.”  

“... Oh,” he said, grabbing Bruce’s hand. It was so small. “I’m sorry.”  

“Me too,” he said, squeezing his hand.  

Jason was quiet for a moment longer. “Mom used to read Pride and Prejudice to me at bedtime, ‘fore she got too sick,” he admitted. “She passed before we could finish, too.”  

Bruce squeezed his hand. For all their progress, there would always be things in his boy’s life he could never undo.  

“I’m sorry,” he mirrored Jason’s words.  

“Me too,” he said, his voice the ghost of a whisper.  

The moment was peaceful. No emergencies. No heartache. Everything was okay, and the silence was bliss.  

Of course, that meant that it wasn’t meant to last.  

Talia ran up to the plane and ran inside. “We have to go,” she said.  

“What?” Bruce morphed into Batman in seconds, standing up and already working his way to Talia. “What do you-”  

BANG! Jason ducked down on instinct, Batman tackling Talia to the ground as a shot rang out.  

The bat recovered first, closing the door to the plane before he ran off in the direction of the cockpit.  

Jason put Flynn in the shelves with the blankets, where he’d be safe and wouldn’t fall to the ground no matter how bumpy this ride got. He looted the cupboard where extra clothes were stored and found a Robin suit, domino masks and mask fluid and all.  

He ducked into the bathrooms and changed quickly. He hadn’t moved much since waking up, but he took the fact that he hadn’t landed right back on the ground yet to be a good thing. When he emerged, Talia looked at him. She made some sort of... sad sound. He didn’t know what it meant.  

He didn’t have time to figure it out.  

He went into the cockpit with Batman. The bat growled at him to go back to the med bay, but he ignored him in favor of strapping himself in and yelling to Talia to get into some sort of seat.  

Whether the bat liked it or not, they worked in synch. It was like a work of art, each of them flipping switches and pressing buttons without talking.  

And maybe it was dumb. He knew if this was Nightwing, he’d be making fun of him relentlessly. He knew Agent A would probably get cross with him in that way that only he knew how. None of that mattered right now.  

Batman fell apart without Robin. He could tell by the way the man’s eyes looked like he put greasepaint over them, except they weren’t shiny so he knew he didn’t. The slight tremor in his hands suggested he’d been drinking too much coffee.  

He knew the bat, and he was fucking exhausted.  

Robin needed Batman. He wasn’t going to let him get himself killed.  

Jason might be terrified, but Robin had always been fearless.  

He ignored how his heart had been hammering against his rib cage since Talia had ran into the plane.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They had been talking for a few hours and everything was going probably as well as it could be all things considered.  

Danny had been disorientated at first, especially after so much information was just thrust upon him. Gotham had a spirit protecting it? He was ‘hers’? He was welcome? What knights? How did the Waynes play into it?  

Most importantly, a grown man with a bat phobia really decided to play dress up and punch people in the face for a living? Thank the ancients he was rich because Danny’s pretty sure that didn’t count as a real job.  

His tongue felt loose tonight. It kept blurting out odd shit, and he was pretty sure he was scaring the... what does he call these? Birds?... The nice people currently feeding him and bantering back and fourth.  

Eventually, Agent A had told Nightwing he was headed upstairs. He said he could reheat leftovers in the microwave if they needed to, but “If you mess up my kitchen, young sir, I assure you Batman will be the least of your worries tonight.”  

He’s pretty sure that, in his rush to say “Yes, Agent A” he’d accidentally name-dropped the guy. Batgirl Danny had been distracted, but it was funny seeing the look on the vigilante’s face. He and Batgirl had been ganging up on the man ever since.  

“I still can’t believe it, ‘Wing,” she tutted. “After all these years-”  

“Oh, hush it,” he’d responded. “Like you didn’t almost call you-know-who dad the other day.”  

“Voldemort’s your dad?” Danny whispered, pretending to be star struck.  

They cackled brightly in response. Batgirl was wiping tears from her eyes.  

“N-no,” she finally wheezed out.  

“Man, what would that say about you if he were?”  

“That I was a poorly written fanfiction character that doesn’t make much sense?” she guessed.  

Danny snorted. “I bet by the end it’d reveal you were a secret Weasley kid Molly thought was stillborn or something,” he joked.  

“Hey!” she snorted as she fought back laughter, “You’re supposed to be on my side!”  

“I’m on whichever side’s more entertaining.”  

Nightwing sounded like he might be dying. “I love this kid,” he breathed.  

“Of course you would,” she said without any heat. “You would probably choose him over me, your poor, poor girlfriend-”  

“ You’re dating him ?” Danny interrupted. He smirked, trying to make it obvious that he was joking.  

“What’s wrong with me!” he yelled. Danny raised an eyebrow.  

“You carry tasers on you. Tasers are the worst weapon ever,” he made sure to put enough in it to not sound like he was being mean on purpose, but it wasn’t wrong. “You’re probably a cop.”  

Batgirl’s laughter turned into a roar. She fell out her chair.  

“I’m a cop in training!” the man squawked indignantly.  

A second passed. Then two. Then-  

“YOU’RE ACTUALLY A COP?!” he yelled out. “I WAS JUST JOKING!”  

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH BEING A COP?!” Nightwing matched his energy. They were both still giggling. Batgirl hadn’t even tried to get off the floor.  

“COPS ARE THE WORST?!” he banged his hand lightly against the table for comedic effect. “They KNOW mind control is a thing and yet, when I have a perfectly reasonable explanation, they still want to try to charge me!”  

Nightwing doubled over. “Dude,” he wheezed out. “Where the fuck do you live? Why is that normal to you?!”  

He devolved into more giggles. “You guys live in Gotham-”  

“You don’t! People on the outside-”  

“Nightwing, we aren’t in jail,” Batgirl laughed out from the floor.  

He could tell both of them were having a good time. He was having a good time, exchanging banter like this. It reminded him of Tucker and Sam.  

They’d love them.  

He sat on the floor and leaned over. “If he thinks the mind control’s weird,” he stage-whispered to Batgirl, “Wait until he finds out we have a school evacuation protocol incase the food starts getting possessed by the lunch lady ghost again.”  

“Again,” the adults said in unison. Danny laughed at them.  

“Dude, this is probably the most insane town I’ve ever heard of,” she grinned. “If you’re fucking with us,” she added, “You’re doing a phenomenal job at it.”  

“I’m a terrible liar,” he dismissed. “’Sides, my town’s weird enough, I don’t need to make shit up to sound more interesting.”  

“Language,” they scolded simultaneously.  

“Seriously, where is this town? I kinda want to visit,” Nightwing said.  

He paused for a second. “That’s not a good idea.”  

He frowned a bit. “What? Why not?”  

“The ghosts,” he said simply. “Though, they’re the least of your worries. It’s more the government that’s the problem, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy about that until the time’s right.”  

“Phantom, are you being for real?” Batgirl stepped in.  

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “It’s a bummer, but we kind of only have one shot at this. It has to go well.”  

They shared a glance. “Tell us how to help. When the time’s right, of course.”  

Nightwing turned to face him. “We know all about having to wait to tell people things until the right time. We respect it, but we wanna help,” he clarified.  

Danny found himself smiling a little. “I’ll have to talk to the team,” he said finally. He his phone out of his thigh. “Huntress is the one-” he looked up at their horrified faces.  

“... Phantom?”  

Oh no. “Yes?”  

“Did you just pull our phone out of your leg?”  

Danny tried not to look suspicious. “... No?”  

They looked at him for a few minutes.  

“Wow,” Batgirl said eventually. “You really are a bad liar.”  

He stood for a second. “I’ll explain when the time’s right?” he said, giving a guilty smile. “Anyways, Huntress and Dahlia are the ones organizing the plan,” he said. “I need to update them anyways,” he said, opening the group chat. He typed up the message as he spoke.  

Ghost Boy    

Turns out bat vigilantes exist  

They got a sweet cave and good cookies  

They want in on the plan, that cool?  

Black Dahlia  

Oh my god??  

Pics or it didn’t happen.  

Danny snorted. “Is it cool if we take a picture? ‘Dahlia doesn’t believe me,” he explained.  

“Yeah, for sure,” Nightwind said as Danny got his camera ready.  

“I can’t wait to blow their minds,” Batgirl added.  

They took the picture, peace signs held up to the camera. Danny opened the group chat again.  

The Pharoah  

Dude how do you go to Metropolis and end up in Gotham with the bats??  

I’m not good at math someone explain  

Red Huntress  

You dumbass  

He obvi got on the wrong bus  

Black Dahlia  

Be nice kids  

Anyways give us pics or I’ll kill you again  

The Pharoah  

Considering you killed him twice that’s not funny  

Ghost Boy  

Its hilarious, actually  

[pic]  

Proof btw  

Also use codenames!  

Theyre reading over my shoulder  

Nightwing laughed as Batgirl huffed. The phone chimed again  

Black Dahlia  

Holy shit you actually did it  

Go little rockstar  

The Pharoah  

ASDFGHJKL  

WHAT DID YOU DO  

I THOUGHT YOU ONLY COMMITTED CRIMES WHILE MIND CONTROLLED  

Ghost Boy  

I DIDNT COMMIT A CRIME????  

NIGHTWING FOUND ME ON A ROOFTOP  

The Pharoah  

WHY WERE YOU ON A ROOFTOP?!!!  

Ghost Boy  

Oh, the spirit of Gotham wanted to talk to me  

Said I was hers??  

Nightwing and Batgirl both made questioning, concerned noises. Danny ignored it.  

The Pharoah  

The fuck  

Red Huntress  

Phantom stop being cryptic and make sense for once in your damn life  

How childish are you smh  

The Psychiatrist  

Ignoring the fact you three are up at a ridiculous hour  

Phantom. Explain. Now.  

Ghost Boy  

I have no clue  

Got on bus, bus did not go to Metropolis, lady on roof called to me and now I’m here  

The Psychiatrist  

See this is what we aren’t supposed to do  

You followed two vigilantes' home??  

Ghost Boy  

No  

I followed them to their cave hideout that I suspect is underneath their home  

I think Nightwing carried me actually  

I think talking to the lady messed w me btw, I did the brain thingy for a bit afterwards  

The Pharoah  

Brain thingy  

Red Huntress  

You got carried by Nightwing??!  

The Psychiatrist  

That does not narrow it down  

Did you dissociate?  

Ghost Boy  

What’s that?  

The Psychiatrist  

Did you feel the “my skin isn’t mine and there’s a fire in my brain but I can’t move” weird  

Ghost Boy  

OHHHHH  

Yes  

Nightwing snorted softly. Sue him, these kids were entertaining.  

Red Huntress  

Jesus fucking christ  

I dated you  

Black Dahlia  

Hell, I knew he was like this and still dated him  

The Pharoah  

You could’ve dated Jhonny disguised as you-know-who  

Black Dahlia  

That truly was his worst fail  

Red Huntress  

Hang on a sec  

They want in on the plan??  

Ghost Boy  

They know nothing beyond that a plan exist  

Like very little information do they actually know  

This is your plan, I dont want to mess it up  

Red Huntress  

This could probably help us  

Bc if we get bigger names on board the public will eat it up  

We'd have a higher chance at getting the article too  

You trust them?  

Ghost Boy  

I ate their cookies and they didnt poison me  

They also looked at my head and havent asked for anything in return  

I think they gen just wanna help, I trust them  

The Psychiatrist  

You ate food from strangers  

Ghost Boy  

It was home cooked I couldn’t resist  

It was also delish  

Can we make cookies when we get together again  

Black Dahlia  

“[redacted] [redacted] [redacted] you are so absolutely grounded when this is over, I did not raise you to take food from strangers you just met idc that they’re vigilantes-’  

I'm sick of typing you get the gist  

Ghost Boy  

… no cookies then?  

Batgirl cackled from where she sat.  

The Pharoah  

I didn’t know she knew this many curse words  

You’re fucked  

Ghost Boy  

Shes swearing?? Im so screwed  

“Phantom? Can I type for a sec?” Nightwing asked.  

“Sure,” he said, handing him the phone.  

Ghost boy  

Hi all!! I’m Nightwing  

BG and I just wanna help  

Phantom seems like a good kid, you all do, and if there’s trouble we can help  

Red Huntress  

Hello, Nightwing, Batgirl  

I’m Red Huntress  

I really am sorry, but I think it’d be better not to loop everybody in just yet  

It’s a very delicate thing and if we get too many people on board too quickly it could get really screwed up  

Black Dahlia  

Plus, the people of our town wouldn’t trust you guys to know what was best for us.  

Ghost Boy  

Then what can you loop us in with?  

Red Huntress  

Can you give the phone to Phantom?  

I need to talk to him and ONLY him rq  

“Phantom?” Nightwing started out, “Red-”  

Danny took the phone gently, reading over the messages. He could see he already had a DM from Val.  

“I’m gonna go over here for a sec,” he said, moving away from the vigilantes. They stayed still, smiling at him.  

Red Huntress  

Tell them a gov agency is holding us against our will and manipulating the people  

Maybe tell them you had to run bc of it?  

Ghost Boy  

What abt ghost stuff  

Like what would be the reason for the gov to hold an entire town captive p much  

Red Huntress  

I mean  

Being dead is a medical condition  

Just specify that it’s non-contagious but incredibly common and bc of the stigma around it you don’t wanna talk abt it much  

Ghost Boy  

K  

“Okay,” he said, pocketing his phone this time, “She gave me the information that’s safe to explain.”  

“Okay,” Nightwing said. “What’s going on?”  

“Why isn’t some of the information safe?” Batgirl asked.  

He took a deep breath. “Our town’s been through a lot. About a year and a half ago or so, something happened. You know how most of your rogues have mental illnesses?”  

“Yes,” both of them said. “We try to treet it, but it’s often too aggressive. Why?”  

“Because,” he continued, “A lot of the rogues in the town have, a medical condition is how I’ve been told to put it,” he said, shrugging. “It’s accurate enough. Anyways, it causes a couple weird brain quirks and most of the rogues we see are just trying to fulfill those.”  

“Is this ‘medical condition’ being dead? Are we talking about ghosts?” Batgirl asked.  

Danny rolled his eyes. “I’ve been told I cannot confirm nor deny,” he said. Val could be so paranoid sometimes.  

Nightwing nodded. “Naturally. Where does the government fit into this?”  

Danny could feel himself starting to shut down. “As far as I know, the particular agency we’re dealing with has been around for a while, more or less unused. But because our town is so bad, they got called in.”  

He took a deep breath. “They are horrible. They cause a lot of damage to our town, and they’ve almost ended lives. I think that if they stopped fighting, we could probably come up with a solution that’s good for everybody, not just one party,” he continued, “But the agency just wants to eradicate us!”  

“Whoa, they’re trying to commit genocide?” Nightwing asked. He pointedly didn’t mention ‘us’.  

“Pretty much,” he confirmed. “I think I’m saying too much,” he backtracked a little, “But... it’s not good. They’ve convinced everyone above voting age that they’re here to protect us, but they’re not. Everybody younger than that knows it. I think some of the adults do, too, but it’s enough that they’re allowed to stay in town. They’re using a couple’s lifelong dreams to manipulate them into giving up research.”  

“How is it legal?!” Batgirl exclaimed.  

Danny looked at her. “Ghosts aren’t considered sentient. We’re considered braindead and hostile, and any evidence to the contrary is immediately thrown to rot. And if they even think you might be a ghost or ‘corrupted’ by one? You disappear. Nobody knows where they’re being taken.”  

“Is this people, too?” Nightwing asked.  

Danny got quiet. “We don’t know. One couple went out of town for two weeks and wrote back months later that they had so much fun on vacation that they lived there now. They had to go to a funeral. A classmate’s older sister left for college and nobody’s heard or seen her since, and the police said she never showed up for the first day of classes. The police told us she ran away somewhere.”  

He closed his eyes. “It’s subtle. We might be reaching a bit. But-”  

“No, that’s... that’s awful,” Batgirl breathed. “Why hasn’t anyone done anything?”  

He looked at her. “We only found out about the missing civilians recently, while we were looking into other things to make our case stronger. Believe me, it would not have gone on this long if we had known sooner,” he swore. “We uh, we know they’re taking ghosts though. We’ve seen them take ghosts before.”  

It was silent for a moment. “Why are they taking ghosts?” Nightwing asked.  

A few seconds, then- “I’m not really sure if I can tell you. But they are. We haven’t been able to do anything because of public opinion. We’re trying to start a social media buzz before we go to any reporters, so more people are willing to read about it. The only issue we might hit with that is-”  

“-The government could find out what you’re doing and go to the media first to spread misinformation,” Bat girl finished.  

“Yeah,” he said. “But I trust my guys,” he said. If Red and Dahlia say this’ll work, I believe them. Besides, the psychiatrist in the group is backing their plan and she’s usually never wrong, so.” He shrugged.  

“So, you were going to Metropolis to...?”  

He saw them exchange a look.  

"I really don’t know if I can tell you. I think I’m not supposed to,” he said, nervous. “If this plan fails, I think we’re in deep trouble.  

“What do you mean?”  

He was silent. “I’m not supposed to say,” he said quietly. “I... look,” he said, straightening out. “I lost everything. Most of the civilians still have their heads, but others are absolutely freaking out. I lost everything,” his voice cracked, “to this stupid war. I had to leave because of it. My, uh, my parents were gonna send me over to the agency,” he mumbled.  

Batgirl grabbed his shoulder. He felt himself move closer to the edge.  

“How is it legal?” she asked softly.  

“... They snuck in a bunch of things a long time ago while making a bunch of laws. A few made it legal to hunt ghosts.”  

She made a sound.  

“Are they dangerous?”  

Batgirl snapped her head up. “What?”  

“Are they dangerous?” he repeated.  

Danny looked up at him. “What do you mean?”  

“Have the ghosts hurt people?”  

He licked his lips. “They often underestimate how fragile a person is. Ghosts are just people, though; saying all ghosts are evil is like saying all humans are evil,” he explained.  

Nightwing wet his lips. “Are you sure? I just looked it up-”  

“A lot of the main research groups are incredibly unscientific with their methods,” he said, near robotically. “If you read further into the article-”  

“Oh my god,” he interrupted. “Batgirl, come look at this,” he said.  

Danny got up too. He felt like someone had grabbed his throat seeing the article name.  

“LOCAL PARENTS CLAIM GHOST KILLED BABY AND REPLACED IT FOR FIFTEEN YEARS”  

Nightwing was talking, probably giving details. Batgirl was making comments. He couldn’t breathe, there was something on his throat-  

He started clawing at it. Both adults turned and attempted to grab at him.  

On instinct, he turned intangible. They were looking at him and now they knew and oh god they were going to hand him over-  

He backed away. They could do their placated gestures all they want he knows what they do to people like him-  

He runs. He can’t help it.  

Seems like that’s all he’s been doing lately.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Nevermore

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 11. Fainting, 19. Left Behind, 23. Forced to Watch, 28. Oxygen Deprivation Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, f!reader (Raven) Summary: When there is a malfunction during training, Rooster is forced to watch as his world comes crashing down. Word Count: 1153 TW: Character Death, Oxygen Deprivation, Passing Out, Panic

Notes: Thank you to @topguncortez for looking this over for me! 💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Bradley groaned as he sunk down deeper into the rec room couch. He absolutely hated these training days. Most of the time he was stuck in this tiny room for hours just waiting for his turn to get into his plane and then he would maybe get an hour up in the sky—if he was lucky. And there was very little to pass the time in here besides one uneven foosball table, a handful of magazines from the mid-2000’s, and a radio connected to the planes currently in the air. 

It wasn’t so bad depending on who he was waiting with. But since they had downsized the Dagger squad, he was currently alone with Hangman as his only company. While the two of them had cleared the air and moved past most of their past grievances, it was still awkward hanging out one-on-one like this so they usually just kept to themselves. If only Bradley had been able to switch places with Coyote today. Then he and Hangman could have kept each other occupied while Bradley could have spent this waiting time with you.

It had been bittersweet when Phoenix was promoted out of the Dagger Squad. She more than deserved it but everyone knew the squad just wouldn’t be the same without her. However, Bradley had been overjoyed when he learned you were selected as her replacement to fly with Bob. 

He had first met you a few years ago when you were both stationed at the same base. It was instantly clear there was a connection between you and things had gotten pretty serious pretty quickly. However, when you found out you were being transferred a few months later, the two of you mutually agreed long distance wasn’t for you and you parted on great terms. But ever since you joined the Dagger Squad, it was as if no time had passed and you both had picked things up where you had left off. 

Neither one of you wanted to put much pressure on the relationship by talking about the future, but Bradley already knew that now that he had you back in his life, he never wanted to let you go again. He just hoped you felt the same way. 

Ten minutes later, Bradley had just begun to doze off, lulled to sleep by the constant chatter over the radio, when suddenly Bob’s tone shifted, his words sharp with an edge of concern and nervousness. “Hey, Raven, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Somethin’s wrong…”

Bradley bolted upright on the couch at the labored sound of your voice. Jumping to his feet, he tore across the room and snatched the radio receiver before anyone else could. It was highly frowned upon for those waiting in the rec room to use the radio, but Bradley didn’t give it a second thought as he called out to you, “Rae? Raven, what’s happening?”

“Roo...Oxygen’s not working…Ca-can’t breathe… 

No. That can’t be right. The oxygen systems are always inspected before every flight to ensure something like this doesn’t happen. You had been given the all-clear this morning along with everyone else. Yet as he continued to listen to the radio, it was abundantly clear that you were struggling for every breath.

“Lt. Floyd.” Oh shit. Cyclone was monitoring training today. “Is your oxygen compromised?”

“N-no, sir. It’s just Raven’s.”

This was both good and bad news. On one hand, at least Bob wasn’t also being affected and he would be able to stay alert and focused on the situation. But on the other hand, if something happened to you, there was little he could do to help. He didn’t have any steering or altitude controls in the back seat and all emergency overrides were out of his reach. 

Grabbing the radio, Bradley carried it over to the window so he could try and see what was happening. Luckily, there were a few clouds covering the worst of the sun’s glare and he could just make out the planes far off in the distance. Two were circling at a normal altitude, but the third seemed to be steadily climbing.

Cyclone must have noticed this too because his voice crackled out of the radio, “Lt., drop altitude to below 10,000 feet immediately and return to base…..Raven? Do you copy?”

“....can’t….breathe….”

“Why is she still going higher?” Hangman murmured as he approached the window to stand next to Bradley.  

It seemed counterintuitive but Bradley thought he understood what was happening. Right now you wouldn’t be thinking logically about how to fix the problem, you’d just be straining to get air into your lungs. He could almost see you with your arched back, wide eyes, heaving chest….and fist clenched tightly around the stick as you unwittingly climbed higher and higher.

But then your plane seemed to level out for just a moment—before it began to plummet towards the ground.

Hangman inhaled sharply, “Oh my God…”

“Raven! Raven, wake up!” Bob’s voice was frantic as he cried out, “We’re going in! She’s unconscious and there’s no one on the stick!”

“No, no, no, no!” Bradley screamed, his fist slamming into the window over and over. This can’t be happening. This can’t be…

“Altitude dropping rapidly! Raven, please! Wake up! What do I do?”

“Lt. Floyd…eject.”

“What?” Bob sounded horrified at Cyclone’s command. “No. I can’t. I have to do something! I have to help her! Just tell me what to do!”

“There’s nothing you can do but save yourself. Now eject. That’s an order.”

“But–”

Hangman snatched the radio receiver out of Bradly’s hands and yelled, “Bob, you have to punch out right now! Your chute won’t save you if you go much lower.”

“I can’t…I can’t leave her.”

Hangman turned to Bradley, his face a mix of pain and sorrow as he held out the receiver. They both knew what needed to be done.

Squeezing his eyes tight to keep his tears from falling, Bradley grabbed the receiver and whispered, “Do it, Bob. She’d want you to.”

There was a momentary pause. Then, “I’m sorry.”

A loud bang blasted through the radio as the canopy was torn open and Bob’s seat jettisoned from the plane. Bradley looked out the window, his eyes scanning the sky until he just barely made out the tiny plume of color that had appeared as Bob’s cute deployed. It would be a rough landing, but he had ejected just high enough that he should be alright.

The same couldn’t be said about you. 

Bradley sank to the floor as your plane spiraled closer and closer to the ground, bile rising in his throat at the knowledge there was absolutely nothing anyone could do to save you now. All he could do was watch it happen.

Then, just before your plane slammed into the ground in a fiery explosion, he heard one final word whispered through the radio.

“...R-Rooster?” 

Taglist:@loverhymeswith,  @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @tavners, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @topguncortez @footprintsinthesxnd, @airhogger, @notroosterbradshaw, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @fangirlinc, @sparrows-corner, @ryebecca, @mads-weasley, @trencher4lyfe, @merlehs, @sunshineflowerchild789, @imjess-themess, @callsign-phoenix, @maggie8002sq, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @tellrock35, @shanimallina87, @mak-32, @ohtobeleah, @blue-aconite, @deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @wkndwlff, @writercole

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Nevermore

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 11. Fainting, 19. Left Behind, 23. Forced to Watch, 28. Oxygen Deprivation Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, f!reader Summary: When there is a malfunction during training, Rooster is forced to watch as his world comes crashing down. Word Count: 1153 TW: Character Death, Oxygen Deprivation, Passing Out, Panic Notes: Thank you to @topguncortez for looking this over for me! 💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Bradley groaned as he sunk down deeper into the rec room couch. He absolutely hated these training days. Most of the time he was stuck in this tiny room for hours just waiting for his turn to get into his plane and then he would maybe get an hour up in the sky—if he was lucky. And there was very little to pass the time in here besides one uneven foosball table, a handful of magazines from the mid-2000’s, and a radio connected to the planes currently in the air. 

It wasn’t so bad depending on who he was waiting with. But since they had downsized the Dagger squad, he was currently alone with Hangman as his only company. While the two of them had cleared the air and moved past most of their past grievances, it was still awkward hanging out one-on-one like this so they usually just kept to themselves. If only Bradley had been able to switch places with Coyote today. Then he and Hangman could have kept each other occupied while Bradley could have spent this waiting time with you.

It had been bittersweet when Phoenix was promoted out of the Dagger Squad. She more than deserved it but everyone knew the squad just wouldn’t be the same without her. However, Bradley had been overjoyed when he learned you were selected as her replacement to fly with Bob. 

He had first met you a few years ago when you were both stationed at the same base. It was instantly clear there was a connection between you and things had gotten pretty serious pretty quickly. However, when you found out you were being transferred a few months later, the two of you mutually agreed long distance wasn’t for you and you parted on great terms. But ever since you joined the Dagger Squad, it was as if no time had passed and you both had picked things up where you had left off. 

Neither one of you wanted to put much pressure on the relationship by talking about the future, but Bradley already knew that now that he had you back in his life, he never wanted to let you go again. He just hoped you felt the same way. 

Ten minutes later, Bradley had just begun to doze off, lulled to sleep by the constant chatter over the radio, when suddenly Bob’s tone shifted, his words sharp with an edge of concern and nervousness. “Hey, Raven, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Somethin’s wrong…”

Bradley bolted upright on the couch at the labored sound of your voice. Jumping to his feet, he tore across the room and snatched the radio receiver before anyone else could. It was highly frowned upon for those waiting in the rec room to use the radio, but Bradley didn’t give it a second thought as he called out to you, “Rae? Raven, what’s happening?”

“Roo...Oxygen’s not working…Ca-can’t breathe… 

No. That can’t be right. The oxygen systems are always inspected before every flight to ensure something like this doesn’t happen. You had been given the all-clear this morning along with everyone else. Yet as he continued to listen to the radio, it was abundantly clear that you were struggling for every breath.

“Lt. Floyd.” Oh shit. Cyclone was monitoring training today. “Is your oxygen compromised?”

“N-no, sir. It’s just Raven’s.”

This was both good and bad news. On one hand, at least Bob wasn’t also being affected and he would be able to stay alert and focused on the situation. But on the other hand, if something happened to you, there was little he could do to help. He didn’t have any steering or altitude controls in the back seat and all emergency overrides were out of his reach. 

Grabbing the radio, Bradley carried it over to the window so he could try and see what was happening. Luckily, there were a few clouds covering the worst of the sun’s glare and he could just make out the planes far off in the distance. Two were circling at a normal altitude, but the third seemed to be steadily climbing.

Cyclone must have noticed this too because his voice crackled out of the radio, “Lt., drop altitude to below 10,000 feet immediately and return to base…..Raven? Do you copy?”

“....can’t….breathe….”

“Why is she still going higher?” Hangman murmured as he approached the window to stand next to Bradley.  

It seemed counterintuitive but Bradley thought he understood what was happening. Right now you wouldn’t be thinking logically about how to fix the problem, you’d just be straining to get air into your lungs. He could almost see you with your arched back, wide eyes, heaving chest….and fist clenched tightly around the stick as you unwittingly climbed higher and higher.

But then your plane seemed to level out for just a moment—before it began to plummet towards the ground.

Hangman inhaled sharply, “Oh my God…”

“Raven! Raven, wake up!” Bob’s voice was frantic as he cried out, “We’re going in! She’s unconscious and there’s no one on the stick!”

“No, no, no, no!” Bradley screamed, his fist slamming into the window over and over. This can’t be happening. This can’t be…

“Altitude dropping rapidly! Raven, please! Wake up! What do I do?”

“Lt. Floyd…eject.”

“What?” Bob sounded horrified at Cyclone’s command. “No. I can’t. I have to do something! I have to help her! Just tell me what to do!”

“There’s nothing you can do but save yourself. Now eject. That’s an order.”

“But–”

Hangman snatched the radio receiver out of Bradly’s hands and yelled, “Bob, you have to punch out right now! Your chute won’t save you if you go much lower.”

“I can’t…I can’t leave her.”

Hangman turned to Bradley, his face a mix of pain and sorrow as he held out the receiver. They both knew what needed to be done.

Squeezing his eyes tight to keep his tears from falling, Bradley grabbed the receiver and whispered, “Do it, Bob. She’d want you to.”

There was a momentary pause. Then, “I’m sorry.”

A loud bang blasted through the radio as the canopy was torn open and Bob’s seat jettisoned from the plane. Bradley looked out the window, his eyes scanning the sky until he just barely made out the tiny plume of color that had appeared as Bob’s cute deployed. It would be a rough landing, but he had ejected just high enough that he should be alright.

The same couldn’t be said about you. 

Bradley sank to the floor as your plane spiraled closer and closer to the ground, bile rising in his throat at the knowledge there was absolutely nothing anyone could do to save you now. All he could do was watch it happen.

Then, just before your plane slammed into the ground in a fiery explosion, he heard one final word whispered through the radio.

“...R-Rooster?” 

Taglist:@valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @sugarcoated-lame, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @chouricojr, @king-of-milf-lovers, @high-fidelities, @shaded-echoes-recs, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @thescarletknight2014

[hyperfixat]

AI LESS WHUMPTOBER DAY NINE SCAR REVEAL

support and engagement would really motivate me to help post and work on the rest of this stuff!

also i’ve never played cod @puff0o0 has just rotted my brain for this man!!

(@ailesswhumptober)

Respecting König’s boundaries and privacy was important to you. He’s so gentle and kind to you that no amount of curiosity was worth hurting him by violating him.

You can see those shockingly blue eyes, the dark paint flaking off with sweat and grime from drills and battle. When his gaze gets hardened with adrenaline and focus, all six feet and ten inches of muscle and force. It’s titillating, you must admit.

When König’s eyes flick over to you, they soften, losing some of the strain around the edges. The corners crinkle and you know he’s smiling at you from under his hood.

Later, when you two manage to get some time alone together in the barracks you breach the subject. It’s a sore spot, and you’re more than willing to back down if König so asks.

“So, we’ve been together for over a year now, right?”

König looks down at you, spread across his broad chest, laying over his body. You steel yourself and don’t break eye contact, despite the nerves licking away at your soul.

“Ja, that is correct. Have you brought that up for a reason?” (A part of him worries that this is the end. The end of all you’ve had together, the end of everything. You’re the best thing in his life, the moon on a barren night. Fuck, he can’t let his head run wild with this right now—)

His chest rises with controlled and even breaths, a steady motion that you use to ground yourself.

“Is,” you hesitate, thinking how best to phrase the question. “Would you ever consider letting me see your face?”

König freezes under you, even breathing picking up after a pause.

“My darling, it’s- it’s not that I don’t want you to, or that I don’t trust you, it’s…—.”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up, König,” fuck, way to ruin the moment.

“I don’t know if you would think of me the same way if you knew how I looked under my mask.”

“Oh, no matter what you look like I will love you, okay? We’ve been through too much for something so surface level to turn me off from you.” You grab the planes of his cheeks and stare into his eyes. “I promise.”

He puffs a hot breath against the fabric of the shirt covering his face. His eyes still look unsure. A moment of silence passes before he agrees.

“Give me a second, my darling.” If you listen closely there’s a slight warble to his voice.

You lean back onto his thighs as he sits up. König rests his back on the wall, you still straddled on his thighs. His hands, ungloved fiddle with the bottom of his mask.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel up to doing this, I just…” you sigh. “Curiosity kills the cat.”

His chest rumbles in a chuckle, “but satisfaction will bring it back?”

“Naturally.”

He lifts his hood, eyes downcast. It’s unusual to see him, well see him, and see him act this… meek.

Your eyes trace over the planes of his face, each scar, bump, freckle, mole.

“Are you going to say something? Disappointed?” A forced chuckle follows the words, but you can hear the anxiety that lines them.

“You look like the man I love. I’m glad to finally see you like this.” Your lips press together. “Can I kiss you like this?”

“Of course, my darling.” Is all König needs to say before you meet his mouth, finally meeting lips to lips rather than lips to cloth to lips.

[aprocessionofthoughts]

To stay awake

ai-less whumptober 2023 day 2- exhaustion fandom-batman TW: non fatal injury summary- Tim is not exhausted

ao3 masterlist

Tim was not exhausted. Nope. Not one bit. Was he on his fifteenth cup of coffee, sure. Had Alfred switched it to decaf five cups ago, sure. But that didn’t mean he was exhausted. No sirree. He could stay awake for another ten hours. No, thirteen hours! Which was why it was perfectly fine that he was on this mission. Nothing could possibly go wrong. 

And as soon as the goons stopped resisting arrest. He would go home  to Wayne Manor and maybe, just maybe rest for a bit. 

“Red Robin!”

Tim turns, but it’s too late. He feels a bullet hit his shoulder and then he’s falling over.

Okay, maybe he is a bit tired. Usually he could keep fighting with a measly bullet wound. He was starting to feel a bit faint and blackness was eating away at his vision. Which, rude. Why would it want to eat his vision? He needed that. How could he read case notes and watch Death Note without it?

And, hey, would you look at that. That was his brother Nightwing hovering above him. He looked worried. Tim hoped the mission had gone well. Batman would be a real pain, albeit a brooding one, if this drug ring wasn’t taken down.

“Tim!”

“Names,” he muttered.

The face above him twitched and said something else Tim didn’t quite catch. 

And then his shoulder was on fire.

What the stinker-stacker-bubblegum-wrappers was Nightwing doing! Was he trying to murder Tim with pain? Who cared about staunching the bleeding if it caused him this much pain? 

And now they were moving him. Great. More pain. What fun. 

Maybe now he’d listen to Alfred and actually get some sleep. 

Yup, sleep sounded nice.

****

Tim woke up to the beeping of his alarm. 

Wait? Hadn’t he broken his alarm clock when he’d accidentally thrown it across his room when it woke him up last Tuesday? Had someone already replaced it, because he sure hadn’t.

He lifted his arm prepared to accidentally send this one to the same fate as its predecessor, when his arm twinged painfully.

Oh, right.

He was shot.

He opened his eyes and looked around. His alarm was in fact a heart monitor. 

The door of the medical room opened and his dad Bruce came through carrying a tray with tea and what Tim assumed was breakfast. 

“Oh, Tim, you're awake.”

“Hey, Bruce.”

“How are you feeling, bud?”

“Fine.”

Bruce gave him a look and Tim barely resisted fidgeting. Bruce remained silent. That’s alright, Tim could play the silent game too. 

Finally, Bruce sighed. “When was the last time you slept, Tim?”

Tim furrowed his brows, “just now.”

“Actually slept, not just fell unconscious.”

“Umm…”

“You need to take better care of yourself, Tim. You could get seriously hurt if you go out without enough rest. You already did.” Bruce said, gesturing towards him.

Wow. What a hypocrite. Bruce could do whatever he wanted and put himself in whatever danger he wanted and the rest of them just had to deal with it. But Tim goes and skips a little sleep to finish a few cases and suddenly he was in the wrong. It wasn’t fair. Tim tried really hard to get everything done right. He had to prove himself. But Bruce was never satisfied. Tim was always doing something wrong.

“I’ll do better.” Tim muttered.

“This isn’t about doing better, Tim, it’s about taking care of yourself. And… I know that I’m not always the best example, but I don’t want you to get injured because you were following my example.”

Tim stared at him. “Alred!”

“Is something the matter, Master Tim?” Alfred said coming in quickly.

“I think something’s wrong with Bruce.”

Bruce sighed. Alfred turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Dick’s been coaching me.”

Ah, that made sense.

��Tim!” Dick said, running in. “I heard you’re awake.  How are you feeling? Are you in any pain? Can I get you anything? A book? No wait, that’s what Jason would want. A computer? Wait no, we need you to rest, not do more casework.”

“Leave the poor kid along, Dickiebird.” Jason said, shoving past him. “How are you feeling, Timberlina?”

“I’m–”

“And don’t you dare say fine.”

Tim huffed in exasperation. Time for redirection. “Where’s Damian?”

“He’s at school right now, but he said to tell you that you better not end up dead.”

That was probably as much concern as Damian would share.

And as they started discussing upcoming events, bat and Wayne related, and asking him if he wanted to join their trip to the zoo later that week (it was originally going to be just Dick and Damian but they had already roped Jason into going), and Bruce looked at him fondly, Alfred standing over by the door with a slight smile, at the fact that Jason and Dick were still here instead of back at their apartments, Tim thought that maybe, just maybe, these people his family might actually care about him beyond just Red Robin.

Or maybe that was just the exhaustion talking.

Yeah. That made more sense.

It was just the exhaustion.

[lilac-gold]

OMORI AI-less Whumptober 2023

Contents Page:

DAY ONE: Sick Summary: Aubrey falls ill, unable to leave her room. Her mother doesn’t care, and certainly won’t let her friends come visit.

DAY TWO: Overworked Summary: Hero uses studying to cope with Mari's death. Unfortunately, staying up all night studying can lead to passing out at the most inconvenient of times.

DAY THREE: Isolation Summary: Unlike Hero and Sunny, Aubrey didn’t isolate herself. Her friends and family did so for her.

DAY FOUR: Hiding an injury Summary: Mari’s supposed to be perfect, not go running for help. Hero’s got enough of her worries on his plate without her bad knee too.

DAY FIVE: Held at gunpoint Summary: Someone’s got a gun at Hero and Kel’s school. Kel should be concerned for himself, but all he can think about is his brother.

DAY SIX: Mind control Summary: Under Bossman, Hero is a puppet. He has no say in what his body does, and no way to resist when it starts to hurt his little siblings.

DAY SEVEN: Flatline Summary: Basil hears his grandmother die. The sound of her flatlining sticks with him for hours afterwards.

DAY EIGHT: Panic Attacks Summary: Aubrey deals with things using anger. She can control that, but the panic rushing through her is a different matter entirely.

DAY NINE: Presumed dead Summary: In Black Space, he gets constantly ripped apart, and Omori doesn't seem to care. When he returns to Headspace, Basil learns that his friends ended up giving up on him completely.

DAY TEN: Collar Summary: Molly always treats him like he's less than human. Still, Omori really could've done without the constant reminder around his neck.

DAY ELEVEN: Paralysed Summary: Upon a mountain, freezing to death, Spaceboy can't move a muscle. He's beginning to dislike the numbness.

DAY TWELVE: Sacrifice Summary: The Recycultists have never been a threat, not really. Things change when Basil ends up in one of their rituals.

DAY THIRTEEN: Drowning (ALT Prompt) Summary: He's not a strong swimmer, and hasn't been since he was little. Still, Sunny jumps in after Basil, and wonders if he meant for this to happen.

DAY FOURTEEN: Grief (ALT Prompt) Summary: Unlike Mari, Hero leaves a note. Kel finds it just minutes too late.

DAY FIFTEEN: Transformation Summary: Spaceboy tries to fight the anger that threatens to overcome him every single time. It never works, and hearing that tape again is the last straw.

DAY SIXTEEN: Hospital Summary: Mari is familiar with hospitals, especially this one. One place she's never visited before, however, is its roof.

DAY SEVENTEEN: Hypothermia Summary: Maybe climbing a huge, snowy mountain in only her too-large nightgown and with no shoes wasn't the best idea. Aubrey's certainly starting to feel the chill.

DAY EIGHTEEN: Warm soup Summary: Sunny hasn't eaten Hero's food in years. Now, starving as he is, it tastes even better than ever.

DAY NINETEEN: "Why wasn't I enough?" Summary: Locked in the walls, Rococo's starting to go insane. He still doesn't understand what he did wrong.

DAY TWENTY: Stockholm syndrome Summary: Hero, touch-starved and grieving, craves even the tiniest scrap of love. Finding it in Sweetheart was inevitable, really.

DAY TWENTY-ONE: Near-death experience Summary: After Humphrey, his friends seem fine. Omori knows better.

DAY TWENTY-TWO: Punishment Summary: The guilty must be punished. Sunny can tell no-one, so the only one left to inflict punishment is him.

DAY TWENTY-THREE: Forced to watch Summary: When Kel is about to be strapped down to the dissection table, Hero begs to switch places. Kel hears every broken cry that follows as his older brother watches him get cut open.

DAY TWENTY-FOUR: Failed escape Summary: Hero tries to escape the basement. The man who took him films his punishment. (Inspired by @charismabee's 'found footage' one-shot in our Hero-centric Febuwhump earlier this year)

DAY TWENTY-FIVE: "Why didn't you save me?" Summary:  If Basil had been there even a minute earlier, he could have helped. Instead, he made everything infinitely worse.

DAY TWENTY-SIX: Curse Summary: Biscuit used to be able to talk. Now, the only person who understands him is his sister.

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN: Immortal whumpee Summary: Mari was supposed to be dead. However, looking at herself in the mirror, she sure didn’t look like it.

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT: Oxygen deprivation Summary: On a mission through the stars, something goes horribly wrong. Before he knows it, Spaceboy is struggling to navigate the way back as his lungs run out of air.

DAY TWENTY-NINE: "The easy way or the hard way?" Summary: Mikhael’s cocky attitude and overall lameness lands him in a bit of trouble when he gets on the wrong side of a group of delinquents at Closeby High. He only hopes the Hooligans come to his assistance soon.

DAY THIRTY: Mind games Summary: Rococo owes Sweetheart his everything, and he knows she loves him… Even if what she says sometimes doesn’t completely align with that.

DAY THIRTY-ONE: Crying Summary: Kel hasn’t let himself cry in years. After seeing Basil’s body in the bathroom, it’s all he seems able to do.

And so, the time arrives! I will be posting each of the above one-shots to AO3 under "Whumptober 2023", as well as here on Tumblr in a series of posts. I will add links to each day once completed, as well as a 'previous' and 'next' to each day on Tumblr. I hope that you stick around and enjoy this month, because it's going to get whumpy!

(In addition to this, I will be doing a collaborative work with @charismabee centred around every alternative prompt for this event. Each day will be set in a different Omori AU that we've created. She is also doing her own version of Whumptober alone, so check her out if you'd like to see more! <3)

[ikilledyvette]

Fandom: 괴물 | Beyond Evil (TV)  Rating: Mature Relationships: Han Joo Won/Lee Dong Sik Characters: Han Joo Won, Lee Dong Sik Additional Tags: Canon Divergence, Suicide, Dissociation, Shock, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Like a Smidgeon of Comfort, Mild Gore, AI-Less Whumptober

Summary: After the truth comes out, Joo Won goes to arrest Han Ki Hwan. He arrives ten seconds too late. (For AI-Less Whumptober - Day 8: Dissociation.) @ailesswhumptober

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Focus

Summary: Written for AI-less Whumptober 2023 Day 28. Set in my Magic AU. A successful spell of any kind requires concentration, something Hiccup lacks. Unfortunately, when he finds his focus, it’s on the wrong thing entirely.

Warning: /

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Hiccup, Snotlout, Astrid, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Fishlegs, Viggo

Pairing: Slight Hiccstrid, Slight Vigcup

Words: 1 708

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Oxygen Deprivation, Sweating

Whumpee: Snotlout, Hiccup

Author’s Notes: Honestly love writing for this AU. And glad to add some Snotlout whump to this year's AI-less Whumptober!

Enjoy!

@ailesswhumptober

XOXOX

For as long as he’s been here, Viggo has been a mystery to Hiccup and he figures he always will be. One moment, the man has all the patience in the world for him and seeks to tutor him personally. The next, Hiccup is a stain on his existence. It’s a confusing dynamic that they have, one he doesn’t appear to have with anyone else in this castle.

“Take something and focus your magic for once in your life. Try the spinning top, maybe a child’s toy will finally help you grasp the basics!

Clearly, Viggo has never met an actual child before. But it is the reason why he had to go all the way down into the dungeon- now a place where artifacts and other nick-nacks are stored- to grab a child’s toy that hasn’t seen the light since the 1800s to practice his focus on. Because the key to a successful enchantment is focus, something Hiccup severely lacks. He blames the neurodivergency.

It’s lunchtime, but instead of taking a break, he’s taken the toy with him to the dining hall, where he sits at the table and, in every sense of the word, embarrasses himself in front of his newfound friend group.

“Oh, come on! Work with me here!” Hiccup moans in annoyance as he spins it only to watch it come to a slow stop, dashing whatever little hope he has. The point is to keep it spinning. Spinning, spinning, spinning, and spinning, for however long his concentration lasts. Endless motion.

Snotlout snickers. “This is just painful.”

Astrid kicks him underneath the table, he jumps and spills his soup. Ruffnut protests loudly when some of it splashes onto her pile of sandwiches.

“Maybe you’re not saying it correctly?” Fishlegs gently offers.

“Uh, Mr. Amazing over there? Mr. I’m-Awesome-At-Everything-I-Do? I thought he didn’t need to incant stuff?” Snotlout comes again as he uses his one napkin to clean it up. “No magic outside of class,” Viggo always says, but he’s pretty sure that rule only applies to him and the twins.

“Maybe you lack intent?” Astrid offers.

“I’m not sure what other intent besides “spin you stupid thing!” I can give it. I’m intenting the crap out of it! I’m going to be stuck at the basics forever,” Hiccup deflates.

Snotlout snickers again. “All the power in the world, still sucks.”

“Don’t you have soup to clean up?!” Astrid asks him, arms crossing.

“Uh, and who’s the reason I have soup to clean up?”

“Just go grab more napkins. Maybe it’s your unbelievably loud slurping that keeps distracting him,” she crosses her arms and Snotlout sends her a glare.

But it’s true. Partially. Hiccup can’t focus in the dining hall, but he couldn’t focus in the classroom either. There was this fly that kept buzzing around the room, coming close and then flying out of reach. His senses have always felt like they’re dialed up to 11, that’s just how his brain works, but it’s ten times worse when he’s trying to focus his magic on anything.

Hiccup brings his attention back on the top. Instead of spinning it beforehand, he lets it lie and tries to make it move that way. His fingers press against his temples, elbows on the table, as he glares at it as if it’ll help.

But the table doesn’t remain quiet, Snotlout gives him a glare and snickers before Astrid kicks him.

“Maybe it’s your nagging.”

“Maybe it’s your face!”

“Maybe it’s your face!”

“Maybe you should just shut up, Snotlout! As a matter of fact, stop breathing! Just stop breathing in my general direction so I can finally concentrate!” Hiccup snaps at only one arguing half. It’s true that Snotlout’s constant slurping was also throwing him off. He knows he was doing it on purpose, he likes to make things hard for him.

Hiccup focuses back on the top, willing it to spin, but still nothing happens. He doesn’t understand why. He can feel the magic in his veins thrilling, reacting to his command, so why won’t the top just do as he asks?

“Hey-” Astrid comes.

“Astrid, not now,” what if he just glares really hard? Maybe that will help.

“No, seriously, you need to stop.”

“And I need every noise in the world to stop.”

“H-man, look at what you’re doing!” Tuffnut comes, sitting directly across from Snotlout.

“No, look!” Fishlegs yells and Hiccup just barely avoids a soup bowl thrown at his head.

Now standing, he looks at Snotlout to find his hands around his throat in a struggle. He makes no sound as he’s not getting any air. He’s not even choking, he’s simply not breathing.

“Hey, come on, man! Stop!” Ruffnut yells at him, also rising to her feet.

“I-I-I’m- I’m not-”

“Yes, you are!” Astrid states as she stands and grabs Hiccup’s hands. “Come on, you can do this. Just break your hold on him.”

“What do you mean “just break my hold on him?” I have no idea how I’m even doing this!” Comes Hiccup’s panicked reply.

In a frenzy, Snotlout jumps up from his seat and slams a fist on the table. He looks like he’s trying to make his lungs work, but it’s as if they’ve forgotten how to. Others in the dining hall watch them, whispering.

“Come on, Snotlout, breathe. Just breathe,” Fishlegs comes over and throws an arm around him. Ruffnut stands on his other side while Tuffnut kneels in front.

“Just do what we do!” He says as he and his sister breathe in and out in an exaggerated manner.

“None of that will help! The spell needs to be broken!”

Hiccup looks at each of his friends, panic causing his heart to race. He can’t focus, he can’t break anything.

And there Astrid goes, out the door. Saying something about Viggo, she bolts as fast as her athletic legs can carry her.

“Come on, man! You’re the one doing this!” One knows they’ve messed up when even Tuffnut is seriously mad.

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” He yells, hands in his hair.

Snotlout’s face turns a deep blue, he pounds on his own chest, but still his lungs won’t work. In Fishlegs’ arms he goes limp.

“Snotlout, no!” he yells, holding him up. All Hiccup can do is watch on in horror. “Hiccup, just stop!”

Hurried footsteps enter the dining hall. A large hand settles on Hiccup’s forehead from behind, the owner mutters an incantation about sleep, and his consciousness fades. Eyes rolling back, legs going limp, Viggo catches the young man and gently lowers him to the floor.

A dramatic gasp fills the dining hall, Snotlout finally takes his first breathe in what feels like an eternity. Without the strength to stand on his own two feet, he hangs onto Fishlegs sluggishly, barely conscious himself. Relief sweeps through the hall.

“Now would someone be so willing to tell me what in the Hell happened here?” Viggo is beyond angry, as he usually is whenever something of this magnitude goes wrong.

No one answers simply because they don’t know how to. They were eating, there was some banter and arguing, and the next thing they know Hiccup was passively choking the life out of Snotlout.

Viggo breathes through his teeth, realizing that his students don’t quite know how to answer that.

“Fools, all of you,” he mutters before taking off his dark blue vest to fold up and place beneath Hiccup’s head. It shouldn’t take too long for him to wake up.

Fishlegs helps Snotlout sit on a chair as he catches his breath. His lungs are burning, his body is weak, and the most terrible headache he’s ever experienced pounds inside his skull.

“He was… trying to kill me!” He gasps, a hand still on his chest.

“He wasn’t trying to kill you,” Viggo bites back at him. He was nose deep in a book when Astrid came bursting into his room and disturbed his peace.

“Sir, what did happen?” Astrid asks. She figures they’re all dying to know. How could Hiccup just enchant Snotlout like that and how did his hold on him not break? He was panicking just as much as the rest of them, probably even more so.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Viggo asks. “Our dear friend focused his magic on the wrong target. And instead of breaking his hold, his panic strengthened it.”

In a way, it makes sense, or so they suppose. Heavy emotions can make or break a spell.

“Take Snotlout to the infirmary. I’ll wait for him to awaken,” their mentor orders, referring to Hiccup, and they listen. While Fishlegs and Tuffnut take their shaken friend away, Astrid and Ruffnut are urged to follow. Astrid shoots a glance at Hiccup behind her.

In time, the entire dining hall runs empty of guests, leaving just the two of them.

It takes a couple of minutes longer, but Hiccup eventually comes to. He’s understandably sluggish as he awakens from a brief sleep put upon him by magical means.

“Viggo?” He’s confused to see him at first, but as the events preceding his passing out return to him, he sits up in a hurry.

“Snotlout! What-what happened to him? Is he- is he okay?!” He asks his mentor, who raises a hand to silence him.

“Snotlout was taken to the infirmary, but I suspect he’ll make a full recovery. You have nothing to worry about,” he assures him.

Hiccup sighs and pulls his knees up, settling his elbows on them and a hand in his hair. He wouldn’t exactly say that he has nothing to worry about. He almost killed Snotlout! By accident!

Viggo lays a hand on his shoulder and once again he’s showing a side to him that the others don’t get to see much. Or at all.

“You’ll learn to control it,” there’s almost confidence in his statement, but Hiccup isn’t sure how that will ever happen.

“Sure, like I haven’t been trying to learn my entire life,” he mutters as he rises to his feet. Viggo watches him leave, expression unreadable. The dining hall behind him, Hiccup retreats to his room, unsure how he’s going to face anyone ever again.

[youngestdaughteroftheuniverse]

So... I've been doing AI-less Whumptober, and I'm on day ten, so I thought I would promote it here ! I'm writing for BBC Sherlock, mostly Mycroft-centric.

Today's theme is : 'Collar'.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Ambush

Summary: Written for AI-less Whumptober 2023 Day 20. Set in a post-apocalyptic AU. At night, Hiccup is ambushed by Dagur.

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence, bullying, sadism, torture, mutilation

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Astrid, Dagur

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Words: 2 328

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Dehumanization

Alt prompt: Mutilation

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: It's AI-less Whumptober time, which means it's time for a new AU! A new Post-apocalyptic AU! Except it's not zombies this time. Though it IS originally inspired by The Last of Us. :)

Enjoy!

@ailesswhumptober

XOXOX

For some reason, Hiccup finds that bullies keep getting put in charge in his world. Snotlout is the Room Captain and they share this room with only two other boys, but that’s enough to make his ego grow ten sizes.

Apparently, he was told he had “great leadership potential,” which in layman’s terms simply means “you’re mean enough to push people to do what you want.”

Somehow, being related to one another only makes him treat him worse.

But mean is still mean. It’s not sadism. Snotlout isn’t Dagur and Dagur is in charge of the entire boys dormitory.

For as much as he can be an asshole, his cousin wouldn’t sneak into their own room. He wouldn’t drag Hiccup from his bed and muffle his startled cries. He wouldn’t be intimidating enough to keep the rest of the boys from saying something because he scares them. He wouldn’t have dragged him out into the hallway, his feet dragging as he can’t find his footing. He wouldn’t be intimidating enough to make a guard on patrol look the other way as he finally pins him around a corner, hiding them away in the shadows.

But Dagur would.

His head hits the brick wall first and pain explodes there. The air outside is frigid, Hiccup’s panicked breaths come out as white puffs of air while he struggles against. Unfortunately for him, Dagur is much stronger than he is. He’s stronger, older, and bigger.

“No! Let me go!” Hiccup demands. There’s something awful about being pulled from your bed. He has only just moved in and he’s had trouble sleeping. That room wasn’t his just because his dad decided to put him there. The Berk Guard, the walled city of Berk’s unquestioned authority, isn’t his home. And then the first night he finally falls asleep, that’s when Dagur strikes.

“Stop fighting! Stop it!” Dagur slams him against the wall again, then his arm settles on his throat. That is what it takes to stop Hiccup’s fighting.

Truth be told, he stares up at his elder with pure fear in his eyes. They’re watery from the fright, from having the back of his head slammed twice into a hard brick wall, from being choked. He claws at his arm, but Dagur doesn’t relent.

“I know you, Hiccup,” Dagur spits his name out. “I know you’re Stoick’s son. I know you think people like your daddy just because he founded this city. But let me make one thing crystal clear.”

He holds up a knife with his free right hand and flips it open. It gleams in the spotlight keeping the courtyard lit.

“No one cares whose balls your scrawny nepo-ass comes from. I don’t care and the higher-ups, they really don’t care. I could poke out your eye right now and you know what would happen?” Hiccup tries to squirm out of his grip as Dagur brings the tip of the blade closer to his left eye. All that gets him is more pressure put onto his throat and he audibly gasps for air. Or he certainly tries to.

“Pl-pleh-” One tear slips free.

Looking past Dagur, a guard happens to pass them and their eyes meet, she appears to be a woman. But all she does is turn right back around and pretend like she didn’t see anything. Dread settles.

“You would just be sent to the infirmary and if you live, you still wouldn’t tell anyone who gouged out your eye, because even if you did, no one would do anything about it. And you would live the rest of your tiny meaningless life under my thump, afraid that I could swoop in and take your other eye, leaving you a crippled waste of space wasting away in the gutter. So you better listen to every word that I say, because I’m in charge! Not your daddy, ME! You got it?”

Hiccup doesn’t respond, still clawing at Dagur’s arm, still choking.

“I asked you a question!” Dagur slams him backwards for a third time and another startled cry leaves him, there was a brief intake of air.

He mouths the words, unable to speak them properly, wheezing. ‘I got it. Please.’

Dagur relieves the pressure just a tad and the boy’s lungs greedily take even the smallest ounce of oxygen. He considers himself quite generous for this gesture.

“I… I got it,” Hiccup croaks out. He’s so lightheaded, his face red from the blood in his head, yet turning blue from the lack of air.

“Good,” the smirk on Dagur’s face is full of satisfaction. He derives a ridiculous amount of pleasure out of this intimidation tactic.

But he’s not done yet.

The knife comes closer again and Hiccup’s struggling grows. His heart races, he tries to cry out, but the pressure on his throat grows once more. All sound is strangled from his voice.

He’s going to gouge out his eye anyway. Hiccup agrees that he’s in charge and he’s still going to do it!

Why? Why him?! No one else is missing an eye!

“No… No!”

“I’m gonna make sure you never forget tonight.”

Hiccup tries to kick him, the knife is right there. But all Dagur does is knee him in the gut, cracking a rib because of his high aim.

It knocks out what little air remained in his lungs, his eyes roll to the back of his head, blackness attempts to creep in.

And then the knife makes contact.

With the skin under his eye and not his eye itself.

There’s a hellish burning. Hiccup tries to pull away, but Dagur grabs his face and keeps his head in place. He drags a straight line across and over his cheekbone. He’s like an artist, taking his time, seeking perfection, his focus unwavering. Deep red blood runs down the cut, mixing with his tears and then sliding down Dagur’s thumb to pool at his upper lip. Hiccup can taste his own blood.

And then the knife leaves briefly just for Dagur to maneuver it around the bridge of his nose, just under his other eye. He tries again to pull away, his hands pulling on Dagur’s, but to no avail. The grip on his cheeks is unforgiving, bruising.

“Stop..” He whines, the burning unbearable.

And then the two cuts connect and Dagur is satisfied. The knife comes away and shimmers in red.

Finally letting go, Hiccup falls, hurting his tailbone on impact. He didn’t realize his feet were no longer touching the ground until his abuser was no longer holding him up.

Dagur looks down at him, nothing but contempt for the boy he made bleed. He scoffs and then leaves, kicking dirt in his face before he turns on his heel. He’s probably about to head to bed and act like he’s done nothing wrong. He’ll probably sleep like a baby, too. That is, if he doesn’t have anything else sadistic planned before bed.

Remaining on the ground, Hiccup’s heart has yet to begin to calm down. The adrenaline leaves him shaking. The shock of what was just done to him catches up to him quickly and he starts to cry. He can remember the last time he was afraid, it’s when his father decided he was better off joining the Berk Guard. But he can’t remember the last time he cried.

Not like this.

There’s a waterfall coming down his face and the salt adds to the burning of his cut. Sobs wreck his body and he feels like he can’t breathe. He certainly tries, but his breaths are too fast, too shallow, and completely devoid of any actual air. It doesn’t take long for panic to settle on.

He grabs for his pj shirt. He grabs for something else, he doesn’t know what. He wants to stand and get away from something, but can’t find the strength to move. His chest hurts and his head swims.

And then…

“Hey, hey!”

A flashlight shines directly in his face and it’s so startling it manages to break him out of his panic attack somewhat. The voice belonged to a girl, but he doesn’t see her face until she stops shining the beam directly at him. The girl is a blond with blue eyes and shoulder length hair in a strict and slick ponytail pulled tight.

She kneels in front of him and pulls what he can only hope is a clean handkerchief from her pjs pockets. He recoils away from her, both because of what he has just gone through and because he would rather not get an infection and actually end up losing his eyes to gangrene.

“Hey, it’s fine,” there’s a hard tone to her voice, despite her apparent want to help. She tries again, he grabs her wrist. She sighs.

“My name is Astrid, I saw Dagur drag you out here from the girls’ dormitory. I swear I mean you no harm,” she promises. Hiccup is hesitant, but chooses to believe her.

“… Okay,” he replies softly, letting go of her. His throat is amongst the long list of places on his body that hurts. He sounds hoarse.

Astrid attempts in vain to clean his face, but the entire bottom half is covered in blood and he’s still bleeding. He has to keep his lips tightly shut if he doesn’t want to swallow a drop more. The metallic tang plagues his tongue. Within seconds, her handkerchief is soaked and her hand is stained. The entire time as she takes care of him, Hiccup can’t help but watch her every move.

“Damnit,” she mutters. “I think a visit to the infirmary is unavoidable, sorry.”

Hiccup wipes at his mouth. “It’s fine. I’ll go.”

Astrid rises and offers him a hand, which he takes. His rib doesn’t agree with the help and his head doesn’t agree with the sudden rise to his feet. He places a hand on his side. Gods, he’s in so much pain.

“You know why Dagur did that, right?” She asks as she starts towards the infirmary and he follows her with slow steps. Unlike Dagur, they actually do need to sneak around and avoid detection.

“Because of my dad.”

“Because you’re weak.”

“Gee, I really needed that,” Hiccup responds sarcastically. His eyes are still thick from his outburst of emotion and he rubs in them with the palms of his hands. He’s careful not to touch his cut.

Astrid pushes Hiccup backwards and hides them both in the shadow of a corner. He falls back and she catches him, his face contorts in a grimace. After the guard has passed, she talks.

“You know what I mean!” She tells him. “You're smaller than him, you can’t fight him off, but more importantly; you’re new. And Dagur can’t stand the thought of anyone maybe not being afraid of him.”

“I haven’t seen anyone else with a cut up face.”

“Oh yeah, no, that’s because of your dad. But if you were tough enough-“ Astrid quickly pulls him towards the door of the main building and closes the door behind them.

“If you were tough enough, he would at least think twice.”

All of the power of their generators goes to the floodlights outside- and the living quarters of the higher-ups- so this hallway is bathed in darkness.

“So be tougher than Dagur the Deranged? Yeah, no, I’ll just go find a yak to lift daily,” his remark gets a smile out of Astrid. He wipes at his mouth again, she looks at him up and down.

“No, I don’t think that’s possible, but you’ve got the attitude of someone who might get Dagur to swallow his words,” her smile still intact, she grabs Hiccup’s hand and pulls him along towards the infirmary.

-XOXOX-

Nowadays, Hiccup doesn’t remember the exact length it took for that cut to heal, just that it was long. He had to awkwardly wear a bandage across his face that obscured half of his vision. There were bets on how he could’ve injured himself, this was before they saw what the injury looked like. After it’s reveal, he was considered both parts a freakshow as well as marginally cool. People stared no matter where he went.

And just as Dagur suspected, none of their superiors actually bothered to find out what happened to him. Because no one joined the Berk Guard after the world ended at the talons of dragons to be a good influence in their city.

At least the nurse back then was a nice older lady. She was gentle with him as she treated him. Since then, she has contracted the Dragon’s Scourge and was therefore thrown to the streets. A decade of loyal service and care meant nothing.

Hiccup still sees her, not that his higher ups know. He’s her only source of pain medication now; stolen from the very people he so- and oh so- dutifully works for three years after his traumatic encounter with Dagur.

Closing the little medicine cabinet above the bathroom sink, his scarred face meets him and he pauses. Sometimes it still startles him to see a scar that big across his face. It starts underneath one eye and goes across the bridge of his nose, under his other eye, and ends just past his left cheekbone. The mental image of him still doesn’t match reality.

He rubs in his eyes, deftly avoiding his scar. Though it’s been a long time, he still feels as though just touching the giant blemish will tear it right open. No one is allowed to touch it, not without a good reason.

But he’s tired and his eyes show it. He’s been pulling too many all-nighters and he desires at least week’s worth of sleep.

“Are you coming?” Astrid calls from the bedroom and Hiccup gives her an audible hum.

“Uh yeah, coming,” he tells her before turning his back on his reflection and joining his girlfriend in the darkness of his room.

[lilac-gold]

Day 6- Omori AU Whumptober 2023

AI-less Whumptober Day 6- ALT Crying to sleep @ailesswhumptober

Fandom: OMORI Rating: Teen Word Count: 1609 Summary: Mari's always been the captain of their ship. The crew look up to her, so she can't afford to show any weakness. AO3 LINK See this post for a summary/explanation of the AU

Mari Suzuki was the captain of the Omori, and took her job very seriously. She commanded the crew with confidence and grace, always knowing what to do, how to do it and when it should be done. A pillar of perfection, Mari was exactly what a pirate captain should be. She gave the kids something to work off of, ensured their ship was well-organised and well-maintained, and quickly built a name for herself on land.

Despite her peg leg, she was agile and quick, a force to be reckoned with. Mari still remembered sawing her own off while treasure hunting; Hero had found her hobbling back with a bleeding stump that ended just above the knee, and she’d never been rushed to his medical room faster. A ghost of a smile crossed her lips at the thought of the ship doctor. Their crew really was perfect.

And that was how it was going to stay.

Mari knew that she was tough on them sometimes, pushing Aubrey a little too far, snapping at Basil a little too much, excluding Kel a little too often, arguing with Sunny a little too frequently. They were just kids, innocent and bright, and she knew that. But she also knew that the world wouldn’t care, especially not since they were on the run from the law.

Piracy was a dangerous job, and no-one was going to easy on them because of their age. Mari had been able to wield a cutlass since she was ten, always having been fascinated by the prospect of becoming the captain of a ship. Sailing had become somewhat of an escape for her in her youth, and Mari fondly remembered the trips she’d managed to sneak late at night onto the open sea, despite her father’s stern overprotectiveness. She’d been able to put up with it for so long. Then, he tried to forbid her from seeing Hero again, suspicious that they were courting, and Mari had had enough. She took Sunny, found a ship, and sailed. Hero joined her, promising to stay by her side no matter what. It was supposed to just be the three of them, travelling from town to town under fake names, no longer crushed by the burden of perfection.

Kel was an accident, stowing away after following Hero. Kel was supposed to stay safe with his parents, but had chosen to follow them instead. Kel was one of the crew members who Mari worried about the most. 

He was their adventurous spirit, the reckless curiosity that first got them into treasure hunting. With four people onboard, it was impossible to get enough money from scavenging and taking on odd jobs at shore. So, they tracked down maps, took bags of gold, and before Mari knew it, she was widely considered a pirate. She wasn’t as affected by the term as she probably should have been, taking the title in stride. It probably didn’t help her image that she had a literal peg leg, but still. She stayed poised, composed, confident.

As captain, she couldn’t afford to show weakness. When she found Aubrey, starving and alone on the docks of a bay they visited, she’d immediately adopted the role required of her. Aubrey had quickly become like a younger sister, Mari training her well and showing her exactly what to do. She was talented with a weapon, particularly their heavier ones, and became a part of the family fast. As far as Aubrey knew, Mari had not a single flaw, and the older girl intended to keep it that way.

Seeing Basil again had been unexpected. He was Sunny’s best friend in their youth, shy and sweet. Not exactly pirate material, but how could Mari refuse him? He’d begged to join their boat, needing money to pay for his sick grandmother’s treatment. His grandma was the only person Basil had left. Mari let him become a part of the crew, and he tended to their crops, doing little odd jobs around in an attempt to earn his keep. He kept out of danger more than any of the other kids, and for that, Mari was grateful.

Hero had many jobs onboard the ship. He was their navigator, chartering courses to treasure. He was their cook, preparing brilliant meals with the scarce resources they had available. He was their doctor, treating them as best he could whenever someone got injured or ill. Hero loved to help and was naturally incredible, seeming good at everything (well, minus sports). He made it look so effortless; Mari admired him immensely. She tried her best to look like that too, but she actually had to work to succeed.

The Omori was a fairly small ship, homely and familiar yet still being a decent enough size to house all of them and carry stolen belongings or treasure. It was well known, mentioned in every one of her wanted posters. Mari wondered if anyone realised she’d named it after her piano.

Playing piano was one of the things she missed most. She could hardly take hers onto the ship, and thoroughly missed the feeling of her fingers dancing across the keys, creating a beautiful melody of her own design. The sound of crashing waves was comforting, yes, but it could get rather repetitive after a while. Mari longed to be able to create another symphony, enjoying writing music when she had time.

With all her responsibilities managing their trips, finances, battles and the like, Mari had little time to herself. Now was one of those times, but the wasn’t able to relax. Not after what had just transpired.

The Headspace was their rival ship, lead by Captain Spaceboy, named as such due to his ship’s cosmic theme. Stars were painted across its purple bow, the boat far, far larger than Mari’s own, and housing many more people. Among them were Sweetheart, a former duchess with a talent for distraction and seduction; Doughie and Biscuit, who only ever seemed to wear aprons and once fought her with a baguette; Rococo, an aspiring artist with a flair for the dramatic; Kite Kid, the inconspicuous pre-teen who boarded with them and rarely parted with his kite, and so, so many more. It often seemed impossible to defeat them, but every single time, Sweetheart demanded they battle, and the Omori had a tendency of coming out on top. Headspace’s crew tended to struggle with teamwork, unfamiliar with their teammates and their fighting strategies, relying on sheer numbers rather than each other.

Mari had won that day, too, but it sure didn’t feel like it. Because lying in the medical room, his arm slashed open by a sword, was Basil. 

Basil was supposed to be safe. He didn’t fight, didn’t wield a weapon, but then, that was the problem. To the Headspace, Basil was the weak link, and they would only keep targeting him if she didn’t fix this quickly. He would have to train too, and quickly. Mari would have to be harsher than ever. She was dreading it.

There was a reason why the kids more frequently went to Hero when they were upset, and not her. Hero was open, approachable, genuine, and always knew what to say. Mari was poised, collected, confident, and only ever pretended. Hero was effortlessly perfect, Mari was artificial. Hero was the healer, Mari was the captain. And that meant that where he was warm, she was cold; where he could smile freely, she wore a constant facade.

It was hardly any different to when she’d left, really. The crushing expectations remained, only now, the only person she could rely on to uphold them was herself. There was no safety net– if anything, she was the safety net for the others. Mari still had to be perfect, never fully enjoying her time at sea as she’d expected to. This wasn’t the freedom she’d wanted. This wasn’t freedom at all.

But what else did she have? This ship, this crew was her everything. So even as tiredness weighed heavily on her eyes, as phantom pain throbbed in her stump of a leg, Mari began drafting out a training plan for Basil under the dim light of a candle in her room. It took hours before she finished, and the sun had slowly started to rise on the horizon. Furiously wiping away tears of exhaustion and frustration, Mari forced herself to hold it together until she reached her bed.

Then, she collapsed onto it, each of her limbs feeling as heavy as lead. She had a few cuts from the earlier fight, nothing too huge but still providing a slight sting whenever she moved. Summoning all of her strength, Mari crawled under the covers, resting her throbbing temples against the cool fabric of her pillow. The slow rocking of the boat lulled her a little even as her mind blared, urging her to get up, to keep watch in case Spaceboy came looking for revenge. Most of the time, he seemed like a polite, well-mannered individual. Then, he donned his eyepatch, his demeanour changed entirely, and he was a true threat.

Mari finally let her tears fall, muffling her quiet sobs into her pillow. It was getting damp. Mari didn’t care. It was so freeing, letting her anguish finally pour out a little before she had to bottle it up again for the next day. Mari was supposed to be perfect, after all.

It was her fault that Basil got hurt. She wouldn’t let that happen again.

Mari fell asleep to the rocking of the waves and a phantom pain in her leg, drying tear tracks sticky on her exhausted face.