#tw implied past abuse

[phantoids]

"Oh honey, you're trembling."

Tommy shakes from where he's pressed into Dream's side by the fire, eyes wide as he stares between the man and the fire, shooting a quick glance to remnants of Logstedshire, of his home.

But he'd been disobedient. He'd been bad. Sure, he couldn't remember what had happened, the weeks after a fuzz of loneliness and tears, until Dream had come back. Except Tommy didn't have anything to put in the hole, didn't have armour or tools or anything to put in there. He'd barely moved from that pit, barely moved except to eat on the rare occasion and eventually dump everything in his inventory into a lava pool, thankful for the fact there was one nearby.

And Dream had found Tommy staring into that lava pool with longing in his eyes and a too-forward lean in his position. Understandably, the man was furious, dragging to boy back towards the small fire he'd set up, yelling and shouting, anger bubbling over into a twisted concern. What else was he supposed to do when finding his property so willing to burn itself away?

"Come on, Tommy, it'll only be quick. You don't have anything to put in the hole, so you need to do something else. It's just a little bit of fire." He assures, gently, running a careful hand through Tommy's hair, ensuring he keeps his tone kind. "Here, I'll even hold your hand there, and I'll heal it afterwards." Dream smiles when the boy's hand slowly raises towards his own, quick to drink a fire resistance potion before taking Tommy's hand, carefully holding it over the fire, grip unrelenting as the hand fights to jerk away instinctively.

The resulting cries of pain and little sobs are music to the man's ears, a fondness creeping into his eyes and his voice, ever so happy to hear just how much of an impact he has on Tommy, his Tommy.

"Oh, Tommy, you're trembling." Dream reaches his other hand up to lovingly card through the boy's golden curls again, arm half curled around his shoulders, a gentle reassurance whilst the flesh of his hand bubbles and burns, blistering beautifully, marking the skin forever.

Marking Tommy as belonging to Dream, with each burn and scar.

[thecitythatdoesntsleep]

“The cold shoulder? Are you that upset I haven’t had time for you, Mina?”

[Click for full Res] [Made in PSE8] [ Mina’s Masterlist ]

After about 12 scattered hours, the Queen is done. Mina, in all her glory, more than likely just before her mental collapse while still enslaved by Decian.

 Beautifully pliant, meek, silent. Tended to well, groomed to look however he wanted. Obedient, everything about her wrought with feared obedience. 

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk!Danny pt.5

If Danny hadn’t thought about quitting and going to rehab before, he’s definitely going to do it now.

It had been one of those days. Danny had sluggishly managed to usher Jason to school- pulling himself together for their walk to the building, because he wasn’t stupid and this was still Gotham- before going home and relapsing. He knew, going into the first bottle, that he was going to regret it. But he still hadn’t felt the buzz, so he went out to get more.

“Just one. I can stop after, if I want to.”

Spoiler: he could not, actually, stop if he wanted to. Because he didn’t want to, which was the whole problem.

So, one bottle became two, two became three, three became six, and by the time the sun slipped below the horizon, Danny had a pile of bottles scattered around the couch and an intense look of self hatred set upon his brow. He was buzzed, but his stupid ghost biology refused to absorb anymore alcohol.

“Stop brooding, Danny. It’ll hurt your brain.” Jazz said, a hint of worry around her joking insult. “You’re forgetting something important.”

“Wha-?” He mumbled out back at the haze of her-hah- ghost.

The door clicked open. Danny whipped his head to wards the door, snarl on his face and ready to lunge at the intruder, when he came face to face with a scuffed up Jason.

They froze simultaneously, but before Danny could do anything, Jason’s hands tightened on the door knob. The kid’s eyes darted to the floor, where the bottles laid, and back up at Danny’s face. What he found there must not have been good, because he took a step back.

It was fear.

Danny felt his heart drop and his throat go dry. The self hatred doubled in size and weight, but he smacked it down in favor of scrambling for the words- anything- to fix the damage his stupidity and addiction caused.

“Jason.” He said, voice raspy. Had he been screaming again? Good start, good- nope. Never mind, Jason is using the door to shield himself now. Danny glanced outside and-

“Oh. I- I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” He turned back to Jason, who eyed him warily. “I- I forgot to pick you, didn’t I.”

“…I can walk back by myself.” The hesitant but full of bravado reply made Danny’s ghostly obsession to protect rear its head.

“Still. I’m… I’m sorry, Jason.”

Jason evaluated him, noticeably eyeing his open hands and purposefully lax posture, before stepping inside. He doesn’t close the door behind him- clearly leaving it as an option just in case he needed to bolt. Danny stood up slowly. Jason watched him, and his hands. His smaller hands- Ancients, Danny was scaring a kid- curled up into fists.

“What… how did you get hurt?”

“Got mugged.”

“Are you okay? No- wait,” Danny flooded his liver and blood stream with ectoplasm, and his head instantly cleared. Ah, the agony of being coherent.

Danny subtly shook his head to clear his thoughts. Focus.

“Of course you’re not.” Danny stepped away from the incriminating bottles, slowing to a stop once more as Jason shifted backwards like he was either going to spring at Danny or bolt out the door. “Why don’t we get you patched up? And you can tell me about your day. That I missed, when I forgot to pick you up and that I’m really really sorry for.”

Danny held his breath as Jason considered it. “Are ya drunk?” Jason asked, tilting his shoulder to slide his Wonder Woman backpack down, hand clutching at the opposite strap. A good bludgeoning weapon, even if Danny would rather be electro shocked to death again before he ever hurt Jason.

“No.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, scoffing as he looked down again. Danny recognized the motion, a bolt of heavy nostalgia slamming into his chest as he remembered another red-head doing the same thing when he tried to bullshit his way out of something.

“I was buzzed but… I’m a meta. Alcohol doesn’t exactly affect me. I had to drink a lot to even get buzzed, and it’s gone now.”

“Y’er a meta?” Jason straightened, not completely losing the vigilance, but less tense.

“Yes. I’m completely sober right now, I promise.”

Jason stared at him, inhaled, and relaxed. “You better be.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Whatever.”

——

Danny placed the bandages over Jason’s cuts.

“I am so, so sorry I didn’t pick you up.”

Jason shoved at his shoulder, grumbling “I c’n do it myself.”

“I know. You don’t have to, though.”

The kid looked away for a moment before softly admitting, “I was… worried. Cuz, I thought somethin’ happened.”

Danny swallowed the lump in his throat. Jason slipped more into his alley accent the more upset he got these days, having learned some of the local accents at his new school and regularly swapping those out instead of sticking with his alley accent.

“Thank you. For worrying about me. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.”

Point. From the mouth of babes came the painful truth, right?

“No. I’m not. But I will be. I’ll go to rehab, Jason. I don’t want to forget picking you up again.”

“Whatever.” Danny hid a smile as Jason ducked his head, looking endearingly like a grumpy duckling. Like, Jazz, when their parents made those blueberry ectoplasm pancakes she liked but thought they’d forgotten that she liked.

“And thank you, Jason, for coming back alive. I- I should have been there, but I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

“I want waffles and ice cream for dinner.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“Wow, you musta felt real bad if you’re letting me eat that for dinner.”

Danny grinned down at the head of black hair (with their red roots once more poking out) and ruffled Jason’s head. “I let you eat like five chili dogs in one go. This should not be surprising. But I’ll let you skip the veggies today too.”

“… No, I want the veggies too.”

Danny let out a bark of bright laughter.

Yeah, there’s no way he’s ever risking Jason looking at him like that again. The kid looked like he thought Danny would come swinging at him, despite their previous meetings where he had, perhaps and with plausible deniability, swung for Jason, but never against him.

That night, after he tucked Jason into bed, Danny signed up for rehab. As a matter of fact, Jazz’s words coming into mind, Danny also signed up for therapy. For him and Jason. Yeah.

——

Off camera, they talked about why Jason react to bottles and hands the way he does, and why he’s so scared whenever Danny slips back into his addiction. I’m just rlly too tired to write it.

——

Danny, who thought his addiction wasn’t that serious and that he could stop anytime because he stopped for Jason: I’m cured!

Also Danny: drinks as soon as Jason goes to school

Danny was one hundred percent using Jason as a crutch and when he felt like Jason was safe, he slipped back to his habits. The only reason Danny’s not dead- well, deader than he normally would be- is because ghost biology makes it so that alcohol is cycled through quicker. Like the Flash, but less fast? Anyways, he had enough to make him lose track of time and forget important things (Jason) and that’s what addiction can do to you, amongst other things.

Jason might seem calm but that’s actually a combo of his go to trauma response (fight) and his experience of 1) being on the streets and 2) living with a previous drunkard coming into play. Also, you might be like what kind of kid wants to eat veggies? And to that I answer: KIDS THAT NEVER HAD ENOUGH TO EAT. I would have killed for a veggie stir fry with a lot of chicken back as a kid lol

On a lighter note, the whole time they’re having this interaction, I kind of imagined it as two chickens just kind of dancing around each other.

[fallenwhumpee]

Traitor

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

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

"We don't need a babysitter!"

"Hush, you will wake them up."

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

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

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

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

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

"And what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I patched them up myself!"

"Can't it be faked?"

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

They couldn't be more wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

-•-

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

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

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

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

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

Leader lowered their gaze slightly.

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

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

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

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

With that, Medic looked away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Villain will wake up soon."

Leader nodded.

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

That was the only apology they were going to have.

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

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

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

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

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

Leader nodded them to go on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surprisingly, Villain listened.

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

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

They pressed the call button and leaned over Villain.

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

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

"Thank you."

-•-

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

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

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

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

They buried the tought immediately.

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-•-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So Leader did.

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

"You look awful," Mentor greeted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know where Whumper's bases are."

-•-

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

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

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

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

"Agency is making an emergency call."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They were glad that their hair was covering their ears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure—"

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

Mentor stated silent, and Leader took their leave.

-•-

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

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

Still, the job had to be done.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-•-

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

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

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

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

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

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

I just wanted to pop in and tell you again how much I adored The Hedgehog’s Dilemma and Flightless Birds. Truly they are two of my favorite fics to come out of this fandom. I’m so excited for everything else you’re working on and I just know they’re going to pleasantly destroy me <3

That said, consider this an open invitation to share anything you might want to share! General thoughts, fic ideas you’re working on or not working on, writing snippets, or even how end of semester grading is faring- whatever you want!

Thank you!! It’s still amazing to me that something I’ve written is favourite fic-worthy, especially when there’s so many talented writers in the fandom. As for the end of semester marking: I'm at paper 50/101 and answering this ask to procrastinate before I start my marking for the day. Because the papers are all answering the same prompt and it's making me feel a bit like I'm stuck in a time loop, here's a snippet from Wrong Answers Only from Ted's first day in the time loop, before he realizes it's a time loop — from his perspective, he's just invited Jamie back and is expecting him at Nelson Road, but from Jamie's, they haven't met up yet.

Out in the hall, he opened his call history, but the glitch that was affecting the rest of his phone had got to that and his messages, too. By the time he’d located him between Martin Tanner (one of the boys from his third season coaching) and Laura Taylor (a uni friend who’d gone on to be a surgeon), Ted had wandered his way to the empty weight room and sat on the bench. The ringtone echoed tinnily through the empty space as he waited — one ring, two, three, and then the call connected a second before it dropped. “Coach?” “Hey, Jamie, where are you, bud?” “At— at the studio, you know. ‘Bout to go on Holly and Phil,” Jamie said. He sounded a little quiet, uncertain, same as he’d been at the bar the other day. “They’re, you know. Doing my hair and all. Gotta look fit.” “You gotta do that twice?” Ted asked. A long pause. “No, I— I dunno what you mean, coach.” “Well, you were just on a couple’ve days ago, weren’t you?” Ted said. “No,” Jamie repeated. Ted scrubbed his free hand over his face, filled with a sudden rush of exasperation — he’d really thought Jamie had left all this behind him, the poking and prodding and pushing back against everything Ted said for no other reason than he could. “C’mon, man, I really thought we were getting somewhere.” “You’re the one that sent me back,” Jamie said, sharp. “You think I wanted to go back to City? You saw what my—” he cut off in a choked breath. “I was trying, coach. Why’d you send me away?” Ted’s fingers trembled. He scrubbed them viciously against the fabric of his pants, but when he spoke, his voice came out steady. “Jamie, I invited you back.” “Why’re you still playing mind games?” Jamie asked, plaintive. It was a strange sound on him, and not one Ted was sure he liked. “You won. Just leave me alone. Please, just leave me alone.” And then he hung up.

[queermentaldisaster]

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

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

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

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

Chapter 1 under the cut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mariamakeslemons]

I found I'm actually enjoying writing in @ghouljams fae!AU. Here's Lilac's first meeting with Price, Keegan, and the Changeling/Ainsley.

Lilac stares in terror at the man, fae, standing in her mentor’s garden. He smiles at her and she chokes, shaking as he takes a purposeful step toward her.

“Calm down, little witch,” he chuckles, dropping his heavy hand on her head, “I don’t eat children.” Lilac squeaks at his rough pats before watching with wide eyes as he walks past her, into Miss Witch’s house.

“Price! Stop scaring Lilac!” Miss Witch scolds, her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. The fae, Price, chuckles and strides up to Miss Witch. Suddenly, Lilac sprints to stand between them, her arms outstretched in an attempt to block him from hurting Miss Witch.

“Y-you can’t h-hurt h-her!” She yells, fighting to keep her fear off her face as she stares up at his blue eyes. Price raises an eyebrow at Lilac’s declaration, tilting his head curiously.

“Oh? Are you going to stop me?” he asks, not mocking, but curious. Lilac freezes, unsure of the correct answer when Miss Witch huffs behind her.

“Price,” she intones. The fae raises his hands in surrender, chuckling as he once again steps around Lilac. The girl spins, terrified for her mentor. She knows Miss Witch is heavily warded, that’s just what generational magic does, but Price feels strong. Maybe even stronger than Miss Witch, although magic does what it does, so she might be stronger?

“Lilac,” Miss Witch calls, pulling Lilac from her panicked thoughts. She’s sitting on the bench while Price still stands, looking over his shoulder in amusement, “Go put the herbs back for me please. Then, you can copy down more of those minor spells.” Lilac hesitates, but ultimately, she nods and scurries back into the house, glancing over her shoulder worriedly to the garden.

Cleaning up the herbs takes a minute of squinting at Miss Witch’s handwriting and comparing it to the notes she’s made on the spare notebook Lilac brought. It takes almost ten minutes, but she’s confident at her accuracy. Another forty minutes is taken up by carefully writing out the most basic of spells in various colored pens. Miss Witch mentioned one of her accomplices likes using multiple colors for notes and wanted to see if it would help Lilac concentrate. It worked and now, her grimoire is currently being cleansed of all the black ink that barely meant anything, and they’re waiting for a proper quill and ink set that will copy the multi-colored system that helps Lilac keep her thoughts in order. Beaming at her steady progress, Lilac stands up from her seat and scurries over to the door to the garden, opening her mouth to ask Miss Witch to look over her work, only to stop.

Price is laying on the bench, his head in Miss Witch’s lap, and a soft look on his face as he stares up at her. Miss Witch is humming a song Lilac swears she knows, her fingers combing through the fae’s hair softly, her expression just as soft.

“Y’know, Soap’ll pout when I tell ‘im how nice you are t’ the little witch. Especially when y’re so mean t’ ‘im,” the fae rumbles. Miss Witch scoffs, going so far to tap his nose as they smile at each other.

“Soap’s a grown fae, Lilac is a child. They are completely different, and you know that,” Miss Witch reminds him with a smile, teasing. Price chuckles, his eyes fluttering closed when Miss Witch bends down enough to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Doesn’t mean ‘e won’t bitch,” the fae reiterates before silence surrounds the couple once again. Lilac can’t help but stare, awe and confusion mixing together.

Witches and fae don’t mix, one of the biggest rules Granny beat into Racheal. No witch worth their salt would ever allow a fae into their home, their sanctuary, willingly. But, here they are, Miss Witch completely at ease while Price does nothing more than tease her. No threats of violence, no attempts at violence. It’s a strange thing to witness, after being told and shown reasons that they can’t interact.

Suddenly, a soft knock on the front door startles Lilac from her staring. She slowly turns to the door, blinking in confusion. She’s been here for a few days already, but Miss Witch always knows when customers are coming. Lilac’s never heard a knock at the door and she doesn’t know what to do. Another knock sounds out, low on the door but insistent. Suddenly, Miss Witch strides past Lilac, a fond smile and shake of her head while Price follows with a frown.

“Hello there,” Miss Witch says upon opening the door, “You really need to stop doing this, sweetie. Your mom is going to be worried.”

“And Russ’s gonna be a pain in the ass,” Price grumbles beside Lilac.

“Russ?” she asks, only to jump and squeak when a little changeling wraps their arms around her legs, looking up at her curiously.

“Who?” the little one asks, their voice taking on Miss Witch’s and Price’s and maybe a few other people. Lilac blinks, before slowly raising her head. Miss Witch winces at the sound of so many voices at once, but she smiles.

“She’s my trainee,” Miss Witch explains patiently, “Her name is Lilac.” The changeling hums and chitters like a chipmunk, a smile crossing their face that make’s their cheeks appear chubbier. Lilac smiles back nervously, only for her nerves to be soothed when the child lets go of her legs to grab her hand. They ramble about decay and how it affects objects differently, from leaves turning from green to black, and a squirrel’s body caved in on itself before some birds got to it. It’s interesting, how passionate the kid is about their topic.

“D-do you want t’ read a b-book?” Lilac asks, smiling when the child looks up at her excitedly. They nod and point at a book Miss Witch had told Lilac was about a dog’s life. Taking the book gently from the shelf, Lilac sits on the ground and jolts in surprise as the child climbs into her lap, forcing her to wrap her arms around the kid and rest her chin on their head to read.

They get through two chapters when a man appears with a dog. Lilac looks up and tightens her hold on the changeling fearfully. He’s a tall fae, one that makes promises and demands rewards. One that can stack any deal in his favor.

“I’d appreciate if you’d let my kid go,” he drawls, the German Shepard beside him giving Lilac a warning growl. Swallowing and shying back, she glances down at the changeling worriedly, unsure as to the older fae’s plan for the little one. The fae’s face shifts, from a fake neutral expression to something softer, almost like comfort.

“I’m not gonna hurt him. I need to take him back to his momma,” the fae explains. The changeling on Lilac’s lap beams up at her and nods. Lilac swallows again, before nodding and releasing her hold. The changeling scrambles over to the man, giggling happily as they’re scooped up.

“Alright, you monster,” the fae teases, “Say bye to your new friend.”

“Bye-bye!” the changeling chirps, birdsong weaving through their voice. Lilac relaxes a bit and waves in return, watching as the fae says something to Miss Witch, only for her to scowl at him and Price to narrow his eyes. Quickly, he, his dog, and the changeling leave the cottage, as if this is a normal occasion.

“Is th-this normal?” Lilac asks.

“About every other week,” Miss Witch sighs, rubbing at her temples, “Keegan is a pain, but he’s fairly harmless. Especially around his kid. Just be careful if you see him on the street without his kid or partner.”

“You have trouble with him?” Price asks her, his head snapping to look at her in concern and an almost righteous fury. Miss Witch waves it away.

“No, more like he enjoys getting a rise out of people,” she explains with a sigh. Lilac swears she hears Price mutter about sounding right, but she’s more concerned with her teacher’s frown.

“U-um,” Lilac stutters, “D-do you want t-to have your t-tea out in th-the garden? I-I-I can make it!” Miss Witch blinks at the offer before smiling, patting Lilac’s head.

“Yes, please,” she agrees, turning to her garden and heading out. Lilac feels warm from Miss Witch’s kindness, unable to help but touch where the woman’s hand had patted.

“You’re a pretty good kid,” Price says, startling Lilac from enjoying her warmth. Looking up, a sudden chill runs down her spine at the cold blue that stares down at her. He leans close and warns with smoke curling from his maw, “Don’t do anything too stupid. You hurt her, you can disappear. Clear?” Lilac nods, mute in terror as examples of her ‘disappearance’ form from his smoke. He leans back and suddenly, he’s Price, the strange fae who likes Miss Witch again. He pats her shoulder and saunters out to the garden.

Lilac fixes up the tea and pours out a mug of wine that Miss Witch does every time she goes into the garden, her mind spinning at the whiplash of this past few hours. Especially Price’s threat. Did she do something to upset him? Did she seem like a threat? Carrying the drinks out, Lilac notices that Price is now on the other side of the gate, almost pouting as Miss Witch scowls at him.

“U-um,” she starts, only to tense when Miss Witch snatches up the mug of wine and slams it on the wall.

“Finish that, then on your way,” she snaps.

“I only did that for your protection,” he says, like a reminder or an explanation.

“Just because it was in good intentions doesn’t excuse you for basically threatening my trainee!” she snaps. Price huffs and takes a long drink from his mug, averting his eyes. Miss Witch sighs and turns to a confused Lilac.

“Sorry about the overprotective idiot,” Miss Witch apologizes.

“O-oh, no! I-i-it’s okay!” Lilac tries to assure her, “I m-must’ve done something wrong! I-I can’t do m-m-much right, s-so it’s fine.” Miss Witch gets that pinched look on her face, the same look she gets when Lilac mentions things Granny yelled at her. From the corner of her eye, Price grimaces, putting down his mug.

“No, little witch. Keegan just riled me up and you were an easy target,” Price explains with a sigh, setting his mug down. Lilac blinks at that declaration while Miss Witch sighs. The woman gently scolds the fae while Lilac mulls his words over. Is she an easy target? She’s never been told that, so she’s not sure. Maybe it’s something that will make sense when she’s older.

[studyofnsfwhump]

NSFWhump Prompt 4

Whumpee suddenly experiences a traumatic flashback while having sex with their lover.

[phantoids]

Grabbing you like bowling ball. How about the whump prompt "take it easy, you're not going anywhere for awhile," or if not, "are you going to tell me where you got that?"

Maria, just for you, I'm going to write both at the same time.

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

"Are you going to tell me where you got that, Tommy?" A voice questions from behind him, causing the boy in question to startle violently, biting back a yelp of surprise. The almost fearful expression he turns to Dream is enough to get the point across, he thinks, without getting himself hurt.

Tommy mulls over the question a little, staring at the otherside disc in his hands, fighting the urge to shove it his enderchest despite how far away it was. It's not even one of the discs, so why would Dream care?

"Found it in a dungeon." He explains, absentmindedly, as he continues staring at the disc. Tommy looks up at Dream before speaking again, filling the silence with further explanation, "There was a dungeon a couple hundred blocks out in a cave, and I went mining today so that's how I found it." He grins, putting the disc away in his inventory, pulling something else out instead; the rocks resting in Tommy's hands shine brilliantly, a baby blue the colour of the summer sky. The colour of Tommy's eyes, Dream notes.

"Okay, I believe you." Dream doesn't even have to try to take the diamonds from Tommy's hands, eagerly handed them, as he moves outside the small house in Logstedshire to dig a hole for them - maybe even for some armour, or at least Tommy's weapons. There's no way Tommy is keeping any weapons he makes, he needs to be dependent on Dream. He needs to be perfectly obedient.

And true to that obedience, Tommy comes padding out the house a moment later, tools and armour already in hand, quickly disposed of into the small hole Dream has made. He pretends not to notice the boy's flinch when the TNT explodes, nor the small wince of pain. Tommy's been good today, he can show a little weakness.

Turning to follow Tommy inside, Dream's eye catches something in the hole, something glinting and shining, almost hidden by the cobblestone foundations. A room.

He drops down into the hole, frowning at the discovery: a small cobblestone room, with a couple double chests lining one wall, the remnants of another chest resting against the wall he'd blown a hole into. A chest spilling valuables everywhere. A chest slipping diamonds and gold and iron and coal - Dream swears there's some fish in there if he squints hard enough.

Tommy was hiding chests. Hiding resources.

Tommy was being disobedient.

"Dream?" A voice asks, unsure, laced with anxiousness and something akin to worry if it weren't so fearful. Tommy's face pops into view a moment later, brows pinched and lips downturned, as lowers himself carefully into the hole after his friend. "Are you okay?" He asks when there's no response, staring at Dream quietly. Expectantly.

As if he has any right to expect anything from Dream, let alone acknowledgement.

He sets the TNT off without a second thought, piled against the chests, hoping to blast the stupid items sky high. The chests burst with the force, Dream raising his shield to protect from the blasted bits of metal that fly, the broken remnants of armour, of tools, of Tommy's disobedience.

Tommy can only watch on in horrified silence, tears threatening to surface by the time Dream looks at him, if only to pull on the boy's ankle and drag him into the pit left behind. "You've been hiding chests from me, Tommy." There's a cold anger behind the voice, however calm the words seem. Tommy tries to collect some of the remaining items, slightly singed photographs and resources, dented iron armour and tools that didn't quite get blown up.

"I'm sorry." Is all Tommy has to say, as if it weren't digging himself further into a hole.

"Put your stuff in the hole." Dream motions towards it once he digs the small pit, anger festering the longer Tommy just sits there and stares as if he doesn't know what to do.

"But these are all my things." The boy says, dumbly, as if they were his items to begin with, as if he were allowed to own things.

A potion-coated arrow to the shoulder is enough to get Tommy moving, the boy whimpering a little from the pain, breath coming out in quick puffs, tears dripping down his chin, blood making a slow path down his shoulder. It's quite the wonderful sight, really, a sight Dream wants for himself. Nobody else should ever get the pleasure of seeing Tommy like this.

But Tommy only drops his armour and sword into the hole. Not the valuables, not the other tools. Only the armour and sword. "All of it, Tommy." He takes a moment to watch the boy, adding on when there's no move to put anything else in, "You hid chests under your base of things you knew I wouldn't want you to have, Tommy. All of it."

"No, no. These are all my things, these are my things." The boy stubbornly refutes, as if he has any right to anything, as if he weren't more than something to be broken down and moulded for Dream's enjoyment.

Dream crosses the pit, grabbing Tommy by the collar of his shirt, lifting the boy over the pit, a cold sneer in his voice, "How about you get in the pit, Tommy?" A grin worms its way onto Dream's face at the terrified squeak from the boy, who squirms and struggles in the man's grip, biting back terrified sobs but unable to stop the tears running down his face, making beautifully wide eyes filled with terror sparkle like greyed diamonds.

He throws Tommy to the side, pulling himself up the ledge to the outside, not bothering to look back at the boy curled in on himself.

"Take it easy, you're not going anywhere for awhile." Dream says, "In fact, you're starting over, Tommy. You can't go to the Nether, no one can come here. You are alone."

"I'm really sorry, I-" He shakes off the hand reaching for his arm, turning back to Tommy, revelling in the little flinch from the boy. It's wonderful how only Dream's gaze makes him scared.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Tommy." Dream exits the pit, absently adding, "I'll visit you in a few weeks if you're good."

[person-behind-books]

when shen yuan wakes in the body of the scum villain destined to die a gruesome death he is terrified.

sure he wasn't a perfect person but he never did anything so bad it would deserve this.

it's later, when he undresses himself and finds scars with horrifying implications.

cultivators don't scar so these must have happened when the scum villain was too young to cultivate.

the though makes him throw up.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 17 - "Lost in these Memories" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

More Fugo whump for today's @whumptober fic, (With Stand Hugs!)

~~~~~~~

Prompts Used: Collar, Touch Aversion, 'Leave me alone' Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Character: Fugo

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

Bucciarati made up the tray of food, purposefully placing the bowl of soup, the spoon and napkin, and the glass of water as he mentally prepared to face his youngest team member again.

It had been five days now since Fugo had gone missing on a mission—three since he had been found, and he still hadn't left his room since they'd brought him home.

Bucciarati wasn't entirely sure what to do. Any attempt he had made to coax Fugo out had been met with firm denial, and while he could certainly understand such a reaction after a traumatic event, he knew Fugo was suffering and, worse, suffering alone. He had so far refused any comfort Bruno or Abbacchio tried to offer him, simply staying curled in bed, wrapped in blankets.

Bruno sighed and knocked on the teen's door before letting himself in, knowing he wouldn't get an answer.

"Fugo? I brought you some dinner," he said quietly as he entered the dim room.

Fugo briefly looked up at him from the book he was reading before flicking his eyes downward once more. "You can just put it there," he mumbled nodding to the side table.

Bucciarati did as asked and hesitated before he left. "Pannacotta, I'd like to check your injuries again if that's okay?"

Fugo's hands started to shake instantly and Bruno felt terrible for even bringing it up, but an infection wasn't going to do him any better either.

"No—n-no. I really can't stand anyone touching me right now. I—I can't. Please. I can do it myself. I promise I'll clean them well."

Bucciarati closed his eyes briefly, but nodded. "Alright. I'll leave the medical supplies in the bathroom for you. But if you need help with the ones on your back—"

"I don't! I'm fine!" Fugo snapped, then ducked his head, wrapping his arms around himself. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"It's all right," Bucciarati told him gently. "Please try to eat something. And let me know if you need anything else."

He slipped out of the room, and his fists clenched in fury the instant the door was closed, teeth grinding.

He and Abbacchio, along with the other soldati had already demolished the gang who had taken Fugo, but what good did it do when the damage had already been done? Fugo had been doing so well recently. He'd stopped jumping when Bruno and Abbacchio accidently brushed him, just generally doing better with human proximity. He'd even started to accept hugs when he was having bad nights, calming in Bruno's careful hold.

And now all of that had been erased instantly by the cruelty of his captors, using his aversion to touch against him. Mocking, hurting, using knives and fists to demolish the fond touches Bruno sought to provide when he was sure Fugo would be okay with it, taking that gained trust and tearing it to pieces.

The image of Fugo when they'd finally found him in that cargo container would forever haunt Bucciarati's nightmares. Shivering in a corner, bloody and bruised, bound hand and foot with a collar locked around his throat, keeping him upright so he could not pull away from his captors without choking himself.

Even the act of freeing Fugo had sent him into a panic attack and there was no comfort Bruno could offer aside from words, which was harder than he had thought it would be.

One look at the teen panicking and sobbing had sent Abbacchio back out to start delivering a justified beat-down of the bastards who had dared hurt Fugo.

And when they got him back, Bucciarati had only been able to do the bare minimum to tend to Fugo's injuries before he flat-out pushed him away and retreated to his room where he had stayed ever since.

Abbacchio met him in the kitchen, breaking Bucciarati out of his brooding thoughts.

"How is he?" the other man asked quietly.

Bucciarati shook his head, grabbing bowls to dish soup out for him and Abbacchio even though he wasn't hungry. "I honestly don't know what to do. There's no telling how long this will go on, especially if he refuses help—"

Abbacchio held up a hand. "First of all, hovering isn't going to help him," he said.

Bruno huffed. "I know that. And I'm trying not to, it's just…"

"I know," Abbacchio replied with a sigh. "I don't like seeing the kid like that either. But he needs space right now. He knows he's safe here and that's going to have to be enough for the moment."

Bucciarati pressed his lips together, knowing the other man was right.

Abbacchio's advice didn't help when he heard Fugo screaming in his sleep that night. He had to get up to see him even though he knew he would be rejected.

"Fugo?" he called as he tapped on the door, hearing the moaning and shifting of blankets. He opened the door and saw the boy wound up in his sheets, struggling, eyes and jaw clenched tight as he let out breathless sobs, chest heaving too quickly.

"Pannacotta," Bruno called firmly, standing beside the bed.

The blond only continued to struggle against the sheets, breaths becoming more and more panicked. Bruno finally had to reach out and help, unable to watch this anymore.

But Fugo flailed the instant Bruno touched the sheets. "Don't!" he shouted. "Leave me alone!"

"Panna, I'm just…" Bucciarati tried, but he pulled away.

Fugo's eyes finally opened and he scrambled to sit against the head of the bed, eyes darting around frantically, not seeing anything.

"Panna," Bruno called again and his head whipped over toward him. "You're home. You're safe. It's just me here."

Fugo's face crumpled, and he curled into himself. "I hate this, I hate this," he cried.

Bruno pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat carefully, making sure he wasn't in any way crowding Fugo.

"It's okay, Pannacotta."

"No it's not!" Fugo snapped, scrubbing at his eyes as he hugged himself, fingers digging into his ribs. "I-I fucked up! I got captured, and I l-let them control me, and I c-couldn't do anything about it!"

Something rippled in the corner and Bucciarati looked over to see Purple Haze materializing. The Stand moaned forlornly as it hugged its knees and rocked back and forth. Fugo didn't even seem to realize his Stand was out, proving how much distress he was currently in. As long as Purple Haze didn't start punching things though, Bruno wasn't going to worry about him.

"You didn't let them control you, Fugo," Bruno told him firmly. "They tortured you."

Fugo shook his head. "But I'm the one who let them see how much it bothered me. I told them to stop, but they—they just made a sick game of it. And I forgot—I almost forgot how much it could hurt." His voice hitched on a sob again. "Because I didn't have to worry for so long but now every time I try to sleep, it's just…that in my head again. But worse, because it's that and my recent capture combined."

Purple Haze wailed again, echoing his user's distress, burying his head in his knees.

Bucciarati's heart ached to hear Fugo talk about it. To know that his mind was so cruel as to combine his recent trauma and that of his horrible past only hurt all the more. He could only imagine how much mental anguish Fugo was going through.

"I don't…know how to make it better," Fugo sobbed. "I didn't want to be like this anymore, but they fucked it all up and I don't know what to do to fix myself."

Bucciarati barely resisted the urge to reach out and offer some form of comforting touch to Fugo. The boy was shaking so hard, just barely keeping the panic under control.

"I am so sorry that this happened, Panna," Bruno told him sincerely. "But none of it was your fault. It was all those bastards back there, and they won't be hurting anyone ever again—I can assure you of that. And you don't have to 'fix' yourself. There's nothing to fix. You survived, Panna, and sometimes that's its own strength."

Fugo didn't say anything. He simply pulled his knees up, making himself small, arms wrapped around himself. Bruno didn't think it was possible for someone in a room with another person—and a Stand—to look so alone, but Fugo was suffering so much right now that his pain burrowed deep into Bucciarati's soul and curled up there.

Purple Haze wailed again and Bruno straightened up, knowing he had to ask at least, for his own sanity if nothing else.

"Do you… want a hug?" he asked softly, seeing the way Fugo kept hugging his arms to his chest. "It's okay if you don't but I wanted to offer."

Fugo let out a soft sob. "I-I do but…I don't think I can handle that much touch right now. I just…I just want it to be like it was before and I'm so fucking mad!"

Purple Haze moaned, rocking forlornly in the corner. That was when Bucciarati had an idea.

"Panna, do you mind if I try something?" he asked, holding up his hands, palms out. "I'm not going to touch you, but please let me know if any of this is too much."

He manifested Sticky Fingers and the Stand crossed the room to kneel in front of Purple Haze. Fugo's stand shifted and looked up at the other. Sticky Fingers slowly opened his arms, not making a move, but waiting.

Purple Haze hesitated, moaned, then suddenly lurched forward and practically tackled Sticky Fingers backwards, letting out a mournful sound.

Bruno watched, shocked as Purple Haze curled up against Sticky and his Stand held onto Haze tightly, rocking him back and forth. It was an odd sensation, both physically and mentally comforting, like being wrapped in a soft blanket and just the perfect temperature.

After a few moments, Purple Haze started to let out a gurgling, almost purring sound, drooling against Sticky Fingers' shoulder.

Bruno glanced over to Fugo to see how he was taking this, and saw a slight embarrassed flush on his cheeks, as he watched the Stands, but his breathing had calmed down a little and he wasn't quite so tense anymore.

"Is it okay? Like that?" Bruno asked him hesitantly.

Fugo nodded. "Actually, yes. It's not bad at all."

Bruno smiled, relief flooding him. "That's good."

Fugo clenched the sheets in his hands, staring down as his cheeks flushed again. "Could you…stay, until I fall asleep?" he mumbled.

"Of course, Panna," Bruno replied, settling into the chair. "I won't go anywhere."

Fugo let out a shuddering sigh and lay back down in the bed, allowing Bruno to help untangle the rest of the covers and tuck them back into the mattress. He then took up a book and stayed there reading until Fugo fell asleep. All the while, Sticky Fingers and Purple Haze stayed cuddled together on the other side of the room.

Over the next few days, whenever Fugo was having a hard time, Purple Haze would appear somewhere in the apartment and Bruno or Abbacchio would deploy their Stands for comfort and hugging. Abbacchio had been somewhat hesitant at first, but Moody Blues had had other ideas, going directly up to Purple Haze and pulling him into a firm embrace.

Another week passed and Fugo finally ventured out of his room for more than just the bathroom and water.

"Feeling better?" Bruno asked kindly as he set some breakfast in front of Fugo.

The blond nodded, and though he was still covered in bruises, showing up all too much on his pale skin, he did look a little better. He picked at his nails, then looked up at Bruno. "Could I…try a hug?" he asked.

Bruno didn't say anything, simply opened his arms to let Fugo come to him.

The boy hesitated, then got out of his chair and came forward, tentatively looping his arms around Bucciarati before he leaned fully into him with a long exhale.

Bruno lightly wrapped his arms around Fugo's shoulders. "How's that?" he asked.

"I think I'm getting there," Fugo said sincerely.

~~~~~~~

Check out my Whumptober Masterpost HERE for more stories!

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[masterwords]

time is fleeting

Summary: Hotch's mom is dying, and he's making his way through the process on his own until Derek and Jessica and the rest of the team tell him no way. That's what real family is for, right?

Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Derek Morgan

Status: COMPLETE

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six

[fallenwhumpee]

"I'm going to be sick."

June 24: Bleeding Out | Illness | Cold Sweat • Masterlist •

Warnings: Reluctant Whumper, fever, knife, blood, implied past abuse(in form of training).

"Get the target out. I'm going after them." Leader  shouted, not waiting for an answer. They knew who they were against to, and they hoped things didn't get heated. They weren't one to shy away from a fight, maybe their fever was talking, but they genuinely didn't want to harm Mercenary.

Without hesitation, they burst out the door, the rooftop breeze providing a moment of relief to their overheated skin and allowing them to catch their breath. "Sorry," they muttered, lunging toward the shadowy figure of Mercenary. Their fight reminded them of a dance, movements completing each other as if it was practiced before, but Leader's moves were getting weaker, their balance faltering.

"Barely holding yourself together. That's an insult to their training." Mercenary spat, frustrated. Leader felt their anger crippling them, the mention of them catching them off guard.

Mercenary took the opportunity, but Leader's quick footing sent both of them to the floor. They brawled, pinning Leader down. "Pathetic"

Leader coughed, their focus slipping but hands gripping Mercenary, survival instincts taking over as their eyes beamed with murderous glare.

Mercenary slammed Leader to the door of the rooftop, quickly pulling back. "What the hell did they feed you in the agency? You fight like you lost your mind— and I think I'm going to be sick. Coughing up to my face is a low blow."

Leader's features froze with shock.

Mercenary knew there was no better time. They pulled their knife, and with a swift motion, the knife found its mark, slicing deep into the Leader's flesh.

Leader's balance faltered, pain searing through their body as their aches began to throb over the adrenaline rushing through their veins.

Mercenary didn't think a slash would take Leader down. It didn't, and Leader attacked again, but Mercenary dodged, a little push to Leader's back caused them to collapse.

They reached, slowing down Leader's fall. Leader tried to fight Mercenary's hold, failing as their strength betraying them. They cried out protests, but their voice soon died to small whimpers.

Mercenary knew they would never live if they had let Leader go at the moment. Vulnerable, weak.

They pulled Leader back on their feet, the weak body trembling in Mercenary's embrace. From the memory, they found the fire ladder, finishing just a few floor under them. It was not even in the building plans, and the end of the actual fall would be into a factory's acid tank.

"Remember how not to break your leg in a jump like this?"

Leader stirred, nodding. Mercenary counted until three, their leap faltering with the weight they had to carry. They rolled, a metal sound causing them to snap into attention. Leader, doubled over the railing cried, sound of bones breaking echoing in their head.

Mercenary swore, pulling Leader from the edge of the ladder quickly. Leader's eyes were closed, cold sweats over their unnatural pale skin shining under the city lights. They scooped up Leader, taking off for a safe house.

Leader was alarmingly easy to carry—too easy, and it worried Mercenary. They laid the burning body over the sheets, running to get whatever they had there to mend the wound.

As they cleaned the wound, Leader made pained noises, stirring but not waking up. Mercenary set everything next to Leader. The wound was deeper than they had intended. It was still bleeding, slow but persistent. They sighed, swallowing the guilt.

Gently, Mercenary cleaned the wound, applied pressure to slow the bleeding, their touch as delicate as possible. Leader winced, their weakened body reacting to the pain even in their semi-conscious state.

Carefully, the mercenary dipped a cloth, using the cool water to soothe Leader's burning forehead. The touch of the fabric provided fleeting relief from momemtarily, but Leader's skin burned beneath their touch, a being a constant reminder of their fever.

Leader soon relaxed, their laboured breaths finally calming down as Mercenary held them and whispered assurances. They didn't sleep that night, watching over Leader as Leader had done more than they could count in the past.

-•-

Leader jerked, pain blinding them for a second. They tried to ruse despite the unknown, but two hands geld them firmly, the coolness of the hands helping them to breathe.

"Stay down, you're in no state to get up."

Leader opened their eyes, looking for a lie in Mercenary's eyes. Their body trembled, aching slightly— they must be on painkillers.

"I faked our death, and... your team doesn't know."

"Wh't?" They forced out, voice rough.

"The agency was never going to let you go after talking to me, and ever since they left you behind to run away, I— I understood how much you protected me from them and their training." 

Leader let out a pained breath, eyes closing.

"You can't go back, but you can come with me."

Leader's eyes opened, tired and wet with unshed tears. Mercenary helped them sit up, their shaking hands betraying their fears.

"I can't." Leader whispered. "I just—"

Mercenary hugged them, Leader's sobs shaking them slightly. "What had they done to you?" They murmured, holding Leader until they calmed down.

"They replaced me already." Leaded whispered with no hesitation in their weak voice.

"I'm sorry."

Leader hugged them tighter. They didn't want to be alone.

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Hi love! First of I wanna congratulate you on your 600th followers! 🤍 I'm so happy for you and the fact that this blog is getting more and more love and attention it deserve. Keep thriving! 💜 As for the event, I would like to request Hisoka + prompt 4. “If you think I’ve forgotten about what you pulled, you’re sadly mistaken.” and 11. “Come now, you can beg better than that.” thank you! 😘

AAAHH thank you!! You're so sweet!!

Big sorry for the delay here, but I hope this was worth the wait 💛

Warnings: Implied past and future noncon, Dissociation, Beginnings of mindbreak, Implied physical abuse, Aftercare but if you squint. Not edited.

Word Count: 788

The air felt cold around you compared to the water.

Your legs were drawn up to your chest, cheek resting on your knee as water was rhythmically poured over your back.

This wasn’t the first time the two of you had gone through this process, but it never got any easier. The heat of the water was meant to soothe the ache in your muscles and the sting between your legs, but you didn’t really feel it. It was just kind of… there.

“Lay back, darling. ~♡”

You did as you were told, releasing the hold on your legs and leaning back against Hisoka’s chest, keeping your head bowed rather than resting it against his shoulder. The only time you flinched from his touch was when his fingers reached under your chin and tiled your head back so he could have access to your face.

The face-cloth felt uncomfortably hot, and you flinched again when he dragged it across your mascara-stained cheek for a second time.

“Behave, my dear.~♤”

You frowned, a small spark of your earlier defiance coming back in response to his patronizing tone. You weren’t a child, you were more than capable of cleaning yourself up.

Whether it was that same defiance or something else, you used that energy to look up at Hisoka’s face and give him a stare that a part of you hoped conveyed how you felt.

A few strands of his hair hung in his face, the tips of it a slightly darker red from the water clinging to it. His eyes were half lidded - his own eyeliner a little smudged, but nothing that made him look bad.

He smirked, dragging the cloth across your skin while maintaining eye contact. “Still have energy, do we? ~♡”

You held his gaze for a few more seconds before dropping it, trying to pretend he didn’t exist while the air of his chuckle tickled your neck.

“You make it tempting, darling ~♢.” He switched his attention to dragging the cloth from the crook of your neck along your shoulder - pressing a kiss to the softness of your skin.

His smirk widened when you shivered in response.

“Maybe when we’ve finished with our bath... ~♢”

The fact he couldn’t see your face in that moment was a blessing, because the fear that crossed it was more than telling.

He hummed, cloth long forgotten in his hand as he trailed the other along the side of your torso, lips pressed tenderly to your ear. “If you think I’ve forgotten about what you pulled, you’re sadly mistaken. ~♤”

You looked down to the hand that had moved to caress along your right arm, eying the prominent bite mark that stood out on the junction where his thumb met his palm.

While yes, he was one for more… eccentric partners, to say the least - and there were many times he enjoyed the fights and attitude you gave him - there was a new tone of fury that you saw flash through his eyes for the briefest of moments when he placed his thumb in your mouth while he had you on your knees only for you to immediately snap your jaw shut as tight as you could.

He liked the fighters, and even though he had composed himself instantly - using your little stunt as permission of his own to treat you harsher than usual - perhaps even someone like Hisoka wanted things to go smoothly every once in a while.

The irony would’ve made you laugh if the action didn’t aggravate the rib fractures.

The sensation of the cloth running against your skin unexpectedly made you jump, water sloshing around you, and you groaned when your body protested loudly at the sudden movement.

You froze when you heard him moan behind you.

“Don’t get me excited, darling, you know how much I love your noises. ~♢”

Oh, you knew.

He would do anything and everything to elicit any kind of reaction from you - whether it be a scream of pleasure, or a yelp of pain. There were no boundaries when it came to coaxing each and every little noise you had to offer from your lips until you were physically incapable of producing anything else.

But the begging is what he seemed to enjoy the most.

It didn’t matter what it was for, and half the time you didn’t know either, but his response was always the same.

“Come now, you can beg better than that. ~♢”

The memories made your lips quiver, and you felt yourself curling forward again.

“Ah, ah, come back here. ~♤”

He unwrapped your arms from your legs, intertwining your fingers with his and folding them against your chest. “I’m not done yet. ~♡”

[sleepyemoxd]

Moon has a really hard time believing that he and Lunar are actually safe. Sometimes when waking up after having a really bad nightmare he'd curl in on himself while repeatedly muttering barely coherent "not safe, not safe here"s and " i-i'll be good i promise, pl-please please just don't hurt us again!" through choked sobs and panicked breathing.

But thankfully, Sun and Lunar knew how to comfort him.

Usually when Moony is having these episodes Lunar would crawl into his older brother's lap and start playing with his fingers (Moon let him do this a lot when his little brother struggled to cope with his own panic attacks as it always seemed to help) while Sun used a soft brush to gently groom his wings, pressing little kisses into the back of his head all the while.

After Moon had calmed down a little, Sun would grip the side of his twin's face while firmly but gently reminding him that he IS safe, that she can't hurt him anymore.

Once his twin was completely grounded Sun would wrap his arms and wings around his still slightly frightened twin protectively much like he would with Lunar before slowly wrapping a warm blanket around both him and Lunar, gently lulling Moon back to sleep and then laying back down with both of his brothers in cased snuggly in his arms.

He was never gonna let that psychotic bitch hurt them again....

[cupcakes-and-pain]

Friendships Don’t Always Last

Sometimes your friends will continue down the path of evil and anger despite you telling them that creepy mentor was wrong and they need to heal. Just another sad fact of life.

Anyway, this is just a prompt that anyone can use, but the charterers demanded genders when I was writing it. You don’t have to use their genders if you do write tho. Also, it’s not long, but I put it in a read more because I like them. I think I should be allowed to use multiple read mores. Make people continuously click buttons to get more of the post. That’d be nice.

CW: crying, betrayal, villain whumper i guess, fist fight, broken nose, implied abusive mentor figure / implied past abuse

———

Whumpee began to tear up as she raced toward her friend's side.

"Please, Whumper, there's got to be another way. Mentor was wrong, okay? He was just a selfish, stuck-up old man! You don't need revenge or power or any of that!"

Whumper looked out the window, refusing to face their friend.

"Whumper, you know this is wrong-"

"Do I?" He spun around, glaring at her. "Do I, Whumpee? Because every single interaction with you and your Mentor taught me that the only thing that mattered was hurting people to get your way. So why is it so wrong when I do it?"

"He was using me, Whumper! He was using both of us."

Whumper held eye contact with Whumpee for a moment, searching her expression. Eventually, his gaze dropped.

"So, that's it, huh? You won't help me get revenge. And what, should I just give up forever?"

Whumpee began to smile. "Well, I wouldn’t have worded it so harshly, but yes. Come on, let's go home-"

"No!! You may have given up and become weak, but I didn't. I don't need your support! I only need your skills. And luckily, I don't need your permission to get that."

Whumper shoves her to the ground. Between the two of them, Whumpee was always the better fighter. But Whumper was right. She had grown soft. She couldn't bring herself to hurt her friend, only to defend herself.

But Whumper held no such qualms. After a few minutes of struggling, he grabbed her hair and smashed her face against the floor, smiling at the crack of her nose. Twisting her arms behind her back, he hoisted her to her feet.

"Come on, Whumpee, don't be like that. I've got a nice cell for you. And tomorrow, we can go over the plan."

"You are an idiot if you think I'm helping you. I don't care what you do to me! When I said I left anger and vengeance behind, I fucking meant it."

"Oh, we'll have to see about that, old friend~. I recall you saying something similar to Mentor before we knew better. Before we got our first scars."