Scene Prompt 21
Sorry I’m so inconsistent at posting lol ^.^’ This one is set during the renaissance period, though I left out the history and stuck with the whump to keep it short and sweet to read :)
CW: cruel whumper, mentions of beatings, failed escape attempt, multiple whumpees/servants though I wrote in the perspective of one so the others are only mentioned
Whumpee quietly tapped their fingers against their leg as they counted in their head. They were anxious, nervous and excited all rolled into one.
Today was the day, after all.
The day they escaped from here.
Last time, Whumper had tortured them for cooking dinner wrong. Whumpee had managed to sneak one of Whumper's torture tools into their smock before being thrown back into their locked servant's room for the night.
Whumpee was still thankful that they had a small servant's room to call their own, even if it was locked and they were kept inside when not working the chores. They could occasionally hear the screams from down the hall that emanated from the stairwell nearby that led to the dungeon.
That was why they had to get out.
Escape before Whumper found that simply locking them in their room for the night was no longer enough punishment for them. That the simple beatings were just that.
Simple.
If Whumpee didn't escape today then it stood to reason that eventually Whumper would be so displeased in their work so as to put them in the dungeon with other servants.
Whumpee stiffly got up from their sitting position on the cold floor, tiptoeing their way to the door and pressing their ear against it. Waiting, listening for any source of noise to tell them what time in the night it was.
Whumper liked to work in the dungeon at night, retiring only in the wee hours of the morning. It should be around 4am now, just before daybreak, if Whumpee's count was correct.
Which meant it's now or never.
Whumpee brought out the tool they pilfered from Whumper earlier, thankful that today's beating and torture was light and that allowed them the ability to still move about.
Whumper liked to keep them mobile and able to complete their daily chores so they never really broke any of Whumpee's bones.
But they bruised, tore out clumps of hair, ripped off nails and the like. Things that hurt like hell but still wouldn't keep Whumpee from work. One time, Whumper even removed one of Whumpee's teeth when they had bit Whumper in retaliation for pressing onto one of their bruises.
As the lock on the door clicked open it brought Whumpee's awareness back to the task at hand. Relief and excitement bloomed in their chest as they cautiously cracked open the door and peeked out.
Nothing in the hallway but the chirping of birds waking up in the morning. That was good.
Taking one step and then another, Whumpee tried to control their nervous energy and keep their steps quiet despite the bruising injuries from earlier.
Their hand moved to grip the cold iron handle to the servant's door of the kitchen leading outside to the courtyard, and beyond that the stables where they could steal their freedom, Whumpee’s heart pounded with adrenaline.
Whumper sat at the table, munching casually on bread and cold cheese in the early morning hours as they watched Whumpee think they were sneaking past them, not seeing them in the dark but navigating well by memory alone it seemed.
It also seemed yesterday's beating wasn't punishment enough as Whumper smiled a slow, wolfish grin and turned to face their servant as they reached for the handle on the door.
"I can hear you Whumpee..." Whumper stood then and silently stalked over to Whumpee who had frozen still with fear at the door.
"And I can see you too..." They whispered into their ear before reaching out to drag a kicking and screaming little servant down to the dungeon to receive the punishment of a lifetime for daring to run away.
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DP x DC AU: Bruce is the one to invite Constantine over, and no, it's not to improve his tenuous working relationship with the asshole. It's the opposite of that.
---
Danny had become a frequent visitor of Wayne Manor in the last few months, and Bruce had to admit that while the kid was certainly a bit ominous for his liking for a partner to Tim, he was a generally kind and happy soul. They'd been dating for a lot longer than the Bats knew of- Kon had been the one to let it slip to Jon who told Damian and so on- and since the relationship was no longer secret, Tim brings him to family functions.
The thing about Danny is... He's dead. More than half of the time. Which again, is not Ideal for Bruce's wishes for Tim's future husband, but it also means that he reviles in being alive. Danny is downright joyous about using his time left on earth properly. He makes Tim eat real food, enjoy real sleep and generally live a more fulfilled life than he had been. The whole family noticed the changes in Tim, and it made them like Danny even more.
So after a particularly grueling day of dealing with Trigon and therefore the JLD's lack of coordination and sensible planning- Bruce gets the idea. John couldn't fucking contain himself admonishing Bruce, and perhaps it was vindictive, but Bruce figures that John should meet Danny. Sans context of course.
...
John is really over dealing with Batman's prissy, over complicated and perfectionist attitude. Come to the Cave he'd demanded, as though John didn't have a favorite bar to get back to, deal with a ghost he ordered like John didn't have other priorities than some random shade.
When walking into the space however, the second his teleportation portal closed, John knew something was deeply, deeply fucked. The shadows were growing longer, the second hand on his watch ticked slower, the air smelled of sulfur and... Red Robin was sitting working at the computer like nothing was wrong. But what was wrong, was the kid was marked by The End. Marked by The Infinite. FUCK.
John knew Death, the Endless, and knew she could pick favorites just like her siblings (Dream's immortal drinking buddy comes to mind). But this wasn't her work, this was something other.
"Mate- the Bat said there was a ghost?" John feels like he might throw up, the eerie atmosphere complicating what should have been a simple request.
"Uh, obviously." The kid didn't even look over from his screen or pause his typing.
John slowly approached, looking over each shoulder a few times, turning in a few circles as the shadows appeared to dance and echo within the cave. He could see his breath, the air became so cold so suddenly. And then, with the gentleness of a pin drop, a new agonizing sound appeared with a Kid walking down the cave stairs. The aura of the room turned dark, every cell in John's body screaming to run, that this was basically the little girl from the ring crawling through the TV as the young man walked down the steps.
"Babe, your grampa says that dinners going to be ready in a second. Oh, uh, hey dude." The creature speaks, turning his eyes to John for only a moment to study him. It feels equivalent to a butterfly being pinned by its wings.
"Y-y-you, you're, you're one of the Endless?" John stutters, his body reacting in fear despite the nonchalant posture of the Beast. The young man rolls his eyes.
"Nah, one of the Ancients but like uh, I'm new in town. And hon seriously don't be late, A made tiramisu for dessert and you're not allowed to have any if you're late and I don't want to deal with you pouting."
"You had me at Tiramisu!" Red stands up from his computer and then turns, "John, what are you doing here again?" Red Robin finally looks over at him, completely confused.
"Just leaving." John mutters, his eyes still trained on the ANCIENT.
---
Bruce could barely hide his laugh when Tim reported the Magician meeting Danny in the cave.
That'll show the asshole to question Batman's knowledge of the occult.
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i write so you know i love you
🧺 #27: "handwritten letters" with akaashi for @shobvrry :D
the first letter akaashi wrote for you was a short, anxious confession slid into your locker, folded neatly with a star sticker to keep it shut.
i just wanted to say i like you, and i’d like to take you on a date sometime if that’s okay with you. please don’t worry if you don’t feel the same way, but also please pretend you didn’t read this if so. thanks for being my friend. i’ll see you tomorrow :)
he didn’t expect to see you waiting for him after practice that day, the familiar paper in hand. with his ending request, among a dozen catastrophizing explanations stood one reasonable for your presence—
“i like you too, ’ji,” you said a little faster than practiced, heart stumbling at the sight of him.
it was sunset as you held the letter in one hand, and for the first time, keiji’s hand in the other on your way home—pink and orange ribbons of light finding a temporary home in interlocked fingers and brushing arms.
the confession is still carefully tucked away in a box of other gifts and letters you’ve received—the first in a section just from him. he could’ve easily texted at least a third of them, you pointed out once, a few days before your first anniversary, but he only shook his head. it was the romanticism of it all, and—
“what if you texted back right away? i wasn’t ready to handle that, i probably would’ve thrown up or ran away or something.”
his feelings after your first date, a request to see you after school a month after, then the letter celebrating your one month anniversary exactly 31 days later.
they built and built—words pulled from an endless well of love and poetic prose in hopes of capturing just how much you meant to him. you still like flipping through them all, on anniversaries or an otherwise insignificant thursday afternoon.
seeing the different decorations and envelopes and letter lengths throughout the years, only keiji’s handwriting remains the same throughout. it’s the same one that writes “i hope these aren’t sour,” “don’t forget your project by the printer,” “i hope you have a good day :),” and i love you, i love you, i love you.
so when your four year anniversary nears and he makes a remark about his gift, you ask “another letter for me?”
keiji stills, fingers slowing down as they flip the next page in his novel—dostoevsky, you think. his index and thumb start to pull the corner (not enough to fold, but reminiscent of what he does to the hem of his shirt when he’s nervous anyway.) “maybe?”
he fixes his posture, sitting up straighter on the couch. “is that…i know i write them a lot, huh? would you like—”
“no!” you shake your head. “no, i like the letters a lot, keiji, i promise. i just,”—you move next to him and frown—“i hope you don’t feel like you have to write them, you know? i don’t know how your hands don’t hurt a lot after. you could type them out and i’d be just as happy.”
but keiji shakes his head, and it feels a little similar to three years ago. “no, that’s not the same at all. i want to write them for you,”—he closes his book with his thumb as a bookmark, the other hand moving to hold yours—“that’s what makes them special.”
“plus formatting them digitally wouldn’t be any easier than my double-sided tape—do you want to take the joy of tape and stickers away from me?” he raises a brow and squeezes your hand in his.
you snort. “okay, you know what? fair enough.”
and keiji pours a lot of honesty, of himself, into his letters, but maybe one thing he’ll keep a secret is how often his hand cramps and red indents and cuts form on his fingers. because it’s inconsequential in the end, really nothing in comparison to the bright smile and hug you give him when he hands you the next letter a couple of weeks later, carefully folded in an envelope with a star sticker on the front.
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HOW ABOUT THAT @somerandomdudelmao DISASTER TWIN REUNION, HUH
Went a little feral to the tune of 2.2K words of self-indulgence. What else is new?
~~~~~~~
Donnie can't sleep. More accurately, he won't sleep. Not until he's done. He'd never been one to leave a project unfinished; death and resurrection hadn't changed that.
He taps incessantly, repetitively, on a keyboard and screen, the motions long since past inputting data and now only serving to keep him awake. The repetition is soothing, easy, and - counterintuitively - he finds his head drooping forward into sleep-
And he snaps back upright. No. Not until he can confirm Leo is okay.
Leo is behind him, he knows. Breathing. In bed. Asleep. Very much alive. And-
He jumps and whips around as a thud sounds behind him. "What the-"
Leo is on the floor.
Well, that answers the question as to whether his twin is awake.
For a fraction of a second, part of him wavers uncertainly. He loves his idiot twin. The question he hasn't been able to answer is whether his reaction to Leo waking up will fall on love or idiot twin-
"Leo!"
He can hear the exasperation in his voice, and yep, it's the latter. He takes a knee next to Leo and hauls him into his arms, lecturing him all the while, and if he can hear the annoyance in his voice then Leo sure as hell can. Sleep deprivation for the purposes of keeping his brother's soul alight had done nothing for his temper. "I swear to God, all you had to do was make a sound! Why are you such a difficult patient?"
He deposits Leo carefully on the bed - "Sit still!" - and checks him over, running every scan he can think of and making sure his brother's new body really is in good working order, spouting increasingly irritated commentary all the while. Of course the fall didn't hurt him - Leo is tougher than that, and Donnie does better work than that - but he still can't help the rising anxiety in his throat.
This almost didn't happen.
"-stupid, stupid selfless idiot!"
Donnie almost couldn't save him.
"Grrhh-"
Leo nearly died for real. Permanently beyond Donnie's reach. Well and truly gone-
"Do you have any idea how close you were to having nothing left to save?"
And now here Leo is, in perfect health, sitting on Donnie's bed with a big dopey grin on his face as Donnie chokes on his anxiety and damn near shakes himself apart-
Oh for fuck's sake.
"Hey. Are you even listening?"
Leo speaks up for the first time since he's woken up, voice shaky from disuse. "D-Donnie?"
And that is not a goddamn answer to anything Donnie has been saying, because of course it isn't. It's Leo. He's always had his own priorities. "Yeah. No. You're not fucking listening." Donnie heaves a long-suffering sigh, sinking back into the routine comfort that irritation at his twin provides. "At least you're talking." Small favors. "Although I'm surprised you're not throwing your stupid jokes at me." Even smaller favors.
He stops short as Leo's hand closes around his wrist, drawing Donnie's arm to Leo's plastron. "You're real," his brother breathes, looking from Donnie's hand to Donnie himself with tears streaming down his face. "You're real!"
And then, in the space of a thought, Leo's joy breaks, his smile turning desperate. "Are you?"
For a moment, Donnie stares at his twin, wondering at the sudden change in expression. He takes a breath-
And the part of him that had lain dormant for so long after he'd woken up - the part of him that had been screaming for his twin's safety ever since they'd recovered the few scattered embers of Leo's soul - gasps to life, blooming like a time-lapse video of a flower and reaching to the edges of Donnie's soul. Leo had called it their twin sense, and Donnie hadn't had it in him to argue after a while. Whatever it is, it's back, connected to Leo's renewed presence, and-
Donnie's heart floods with emotions. Relief and joy sprout quickly and are nearly swept away in a tide of exhaustionanxietyfearfearfearfearFEAR-
But down beneath it all, steady against the rising wall of terror, is the little blue spark of hope that his brother always carried. His core. The thing that let him continue on in the face of insurmountable odds, and lent that same strength to everyone around him. A ninja's greatest weapon.
It's Leo. It's Leo-
And Donnie can't leave him alone in his fear. Not when there's no need for it. Not when they're safe.
He lets that breath out, and sits next to Leo on the bed. "Mhm. I'm alive. And you're alive. We're safe. The Krang are gone." That's all the news that's fit to print, or at least the most important parts. What else does he have to say?
Oh.
"I'm sorry I..uh…"
He's sorry he what? Died? Left a mess for Leo to deal with? Didn't do enough while he was alive to keep everyone else alive in turn after he was gone? Kept his brother's soul in a fucking mug, because that was the only way he could ensure he wouldn't break it while Leo was still fragile? All of the above?
…yeah, it's all of the above.
He owes Leo one hell of an apology, and he's never been good at any of this, so instead he shrugs haplessly and leans forward, pulling Leo into his arms and hanging on tight.
It's a matter of moments before Leo has him flat on his shell on the bed and is sobbing into his arms. Normally he'd hate seeing his twin cry, but it's proof of life - proof that Leo made it, that his soul is intact enough for him to still be Leo, that he's alive and awake and here - and Donnie will take it.
And if he's squeezing Leo back pretty hard himself, well, that's fine too. Nobody else needs to know.
~~~~~~~
Donnie is yelling at him.
Donnie is strong enough to have picked Leo up off the ground, well enough to be on his feet without support, running tests and reading Leo the riot act over his latest boneheaded maneuver - in this case, forgetting he was missing an arm and falling out of bed.
Donnie is yelling at him, because Donnie is here to yell at him.
And Leo is smiling, because he couldn't be happier. He lets the words wash over him, draping over his shoulders like a favorite cozy blanket that he'd lost so many years ago, and he basks in the warmth that is his brother's voice and smiles.
It's enough to interrupt the yelling for a question, though he doesn't really hear it - just keeps smiling, and says Donnie's name, and it's so nice to be able to say it with a smile now, because Donnie is here-
-he is, right? This isn't just a dying hallucination on Leo's part, right?
(It couldn't be- he remembers his death, remembers breathing his last, remembers being trapped- but this-)
He reaches out, taking Donnie's wrist in hand, and pulls his brother closer to him. "You're…real…" It certainly feels real - skin and scales, softer than his own, and his fingers barely fit all the way around the wrist instead of encircling them with room to spare - and he stares down at it, tears rolling down his face as he finally looks back up at his twin. "You're real!"
The Krang show you what you want to see.
The thought strikes him unbidden, turning his joy and relief to ice. It's a well-known fact: a Krang infection can show its host what they want to see, visions of comfort and family and home, and extract intel from the host's reactions. He knows that- he knows that, and-
And he'd died surrounded by Krang- and even if he couldn't see or hear or feel, he knows he'd been held captive-
But it's Donnie- he wants this to be real- he needs this to be real- he wants his twin back so badly he can't think, and the idea that this could be a Krang hallucination is almost too much to bear-
"Are you?" He can hear how choked the words are as they leave his lips, but he needs to know-
And Donnie stops, and sits down next to him, and tells him everything he wants to hear - everything he could've ever wished for. They're alive. They're safe. The Krang are gone. It all sounds too good to be true.
And then Donnie offers him an apology and a sad half-smile, pulling him into a strong hug-
And the ice in Leo's mind shatters in a flood of warmth as his twin sense opens for the first time since Donnie's death. He feels his twin's irritation, and deep-seated exhaustion, and a choking wave of guiltguiltguiltguiltguilt-
And beneath it all, steady and strong as ever, the thrum of unending determination, powered by an unfathomably deep well of love. It's the backbeat to the melody of Leo's life, the point-counterpoint to his own heartbeat- it's something he'd never had to live without until he did, but it's back, rushing in to fill the silence he'd known with the strength to go on and the knowledge that he is loved loved loved, strong and overwhelming and all-encompassing in the way only Donnie can love-
It's something the Krang could never imitate.
This is real. This is all real-
He throws himself against his twin, toppling them both over on the bed as he clings to Donnie, unable to stand even a fraction of an inch of space between them, as though he could push their hearts together through their plastrons, and he cries, sobbing out worry and terror and grief and the slow, crushing exhaustion of a losing battle finally lost. He cries as though the world was ending - and it had, once when the Krang had invaded and again every time he'd lost a member of his family, over and over until he'd sent his last hope through a portal that had cost his littlest brother his life and succumbed to death himself.
And now he's alive. Here, wherever here is, with Donnie. Clinging to his twin, and being held in turn as Donnie gently sits them both up, never letting go as Leo cries himself out.
It takes a while - long enough for Leo's gaze to settle into a stare and his thoughts to settle into a comfortable static. He's alive, Donnie is alive, and he has no fucking idea what else is going on, but he's just going to be okay with that for now.
His thoughts rouse enough to inform him of something wrong - the line of tension Donnie is carrying down his neck and over his shoulders. That won't do. Leo could try to massage it out with one hand, maybe try to get Donnie to talk about it, but Donnie never likes to talk about it, and Leo isn't one for slowly soothing away tension when he can just take an axe to the release valve instead. Plus, it gives him something definite to focus on, instead of…this whole situation. Whatever 'this whole situation' actually is.
Donnie had mentioned his stupid jokes, right?
"H-hey Dee?" His voice wavers from disuse, thick with tears, but he pushes through. "Why did- why did the tree buy a camera?"
"What?" Oh, Donnie is not going to see this coming. Excellent.
"To do a photosynthesis." It's nowhere near the level of pizazz he normally uses for a punchline delivery - he's still too tired and frazzled and clinging to Donnie entirely too hard for that - but that beautiful pause of a terrible joke sinking in tells him it had hit home nonetheless. Donnie moves - he can hear the telltale slap of face meeting palm - and then breaks down into helpless laughter, smacking the back of Leo's shell as the tension Leo had felt in his twin's shoulders abruptly relaxes. Good. It worked.
"This is so fucking stupid," is all Donnie manages as his laughter fades, and he slumps fully against Leo with a murmur. That's...abrupt. Sure, Leo had felt Donnie's exhaustion, but he hadn't realized it'd been that bad. He takes hold of Donnie, gently laying him down on the bed to rest-
Remember what happened last time Donnie fell asleep next to you.
He gasps sharply at the thought - not again NEVER again - and keeps his hand steady as he moves, laying both fingers gently against Donnie's neck and feeling for his pulse. It's easy to find, strong and steady and even, like it had been before the infection had taken Donnie's vitality and then his life.
But he's alive, and healthy, and sleeping. He's okay. And Leo-
Leo moves his hand to the side of his own neck. His pulse is also easy to find, quickened with the adrenaline of an unknown situation and multiple consecutive shocks to his system.
Okay. Take stock. Assess. Figure out a plan from there.
He's alive. Donnie's alive. The Krang are gone. And everything else…is a big fat question mark, with no easy answers and no indication as to where to begin looking for them.
Well.
Uh.
"What the fuck," Leo whispers to the room at large, as though the walls could answer.
~~~~~~~
(A world away and still very close, a younger pair of twins cling to one another the way a drowning man clings to driftwood: desperately, clutching tight, as though letting go will spell their doom. Neither of them know where the emotions came from, or why; all they know is that each of them are damn glad the other is alive, and they'll do everything they can to make sure that continues to be the case.)
(What the fuck, indeed.)
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