#twin whump

[whump-me]

Whumptober Day 7: Radio Silence

This is a standalone story in my original Mind Games universe, a modern-day sci-fi/fantasy thriller setting about ordinary humans with superhuman abilities and the people who want to use or destroy them. Full description in my Whumptober masterpost, which is linked in my pinned post.

This story contains: twins, lab whump, emotional whump, brain damage

Words: 2700

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Angie woke screaming in a dirty motel room. She couldn’t remember what state she had crossed into before she saw the neon sign that promised a place to pass out. She couldn’t remember if she’d eaten dinner yesterday—or breakfast, for that matter. But the dream that had woken her was clearer than memory, clearer than the peeling wallpaper of the room. She had dreamed of being strapped to a chair, in a room with white walls and white lights, surrounded by men in white lab coats. One had been shaving her head. The other had been readying his scalpel.

It hadn’t been a dream. It had been Isabel.

I’m coming, she thought along the connection with her twin. I’m on my way.

Isabel couldn’t form words through her panic. But a wave of relief washed through the connection at the sound of Angie’s mental voice. Isabel still believed in her. Isabel was counting on her.

Which meant Angie had to get a move on.

It was a good thing she hadn’t changed out of her clothes the night before. That meant a few minutes she didn’t have to spend on getting dressed. She visited the grimy motel bathroom for a quick piss, and gave her teeth a halfhearted scrub with her finger. As she hoisted her backpack over her shoulders, she lit up a cigarette. It was a no-smoking room—said so right on the door—but she was never coming back here anyway.

The nicotine was the only thing she knew of that could dim the connection a little. Aside from a strong drink, and she wasn’t about to get behind the wheel drunk. She took a long drag, and the panic eased, just a little. The white room in her inner vision turned dim and blurry.

Shutting her twin out when Isabel needed her the most. Some twin she was. But she couldn’t keep her head on straight with Isabel’s panic swimming around in her bloodstream. Her own was hard enough to manage.

She tossed her backpack in the passenger seat and peeled out of the parking lot.

She paid no attention to the road signs. She did what she had done since she had started this road trip from hell five days ago: she followed the inner compass that told her which direction to go to find Isabel. The two of them had always been able to do that, just like they could pass words and images silently between them no matter how much physical distance lay between them. Came with the territory when you were a twin and both of you were telepaths.

She tossed the spent cigarette out the window. The tug in her gut led her south. She swerved onto the highway at the last moment.

As she merged, a crawling sensation on her scalp made her bring up a hand absentmindedly to scratch. But it wasn’t her scalp that was the problem. In her inner vision, one of the men was drawing with a marker on the back of her—of Isabel’s—head, like he was marking where to cut.

She hit the gas.

A minivan in front of her was crawling along at the speed limit. She leaned on her horn. The minivan didn’t speed up.

A bite of pain, like an insect sting just above the back of her neck. She brought up her hand on instinct to swat it. A fresh wave of panic—not her own—flooded her.

Not an insect bite. The bite of a scalpel.

Hang in there, she thought as hard as she could. I’m coming. I’m close—I can feel it. A couple hours at most.

She lit another cigarette.

The nicotine couldn’t kick in fast enough. The pain spread. It bit deeper. They were cutting her apart, they were cutting Isabel apart…

She swerved around the minivan, drawing a chorus of honks from the cars around her.

She could make it in time. She could make it. She was so close.

It wasn’t by chance that she and Isabel were what they were. That they were twins; that they were telepaths. They hadn’t known the truth until a woman in a dark suit came knocking one evening, while Isabel was filling out college applications and Angie was getting ready to sneak out with some boy whose name she couldn’t remember anymore. It was lucky they had both been home, or their lives might have gone very differently from that point on.

They both knew why the woman was there the second she rang the doorbell. Can’t hide anything from a telepath. She was there to take her experiments back. Identical twins dosed with experimental drugs in utero, then allowed to develop naturally out of the lab—which implied others who had grown up in a lab somewhere.

The woman and the people she worked for—the Psi Enhancement Research Initiative, the woman’s thoughts supplied—had lied to the twins’ parents about who they were and what they were doing. They had said they were trialing an experimental IVF procedure. They hadn’t said they would be keeping tabs on the twins’ medical and educational records, and sending observers to watch them in secret—something the twins also hadn’t known until that moment.

And they hadn’t said they would be coming back for the twins once their experiment was ready for its next phase.

They hadn’t needed to say a word to each other. They had raced downstairs to warn their parents, because they had both heard in the woman’s thoughts that she wasn’t there to ask permission. But they weren’t fast enough to save their parents.

They were only fast enough to save themselves.

They had been on their own since then. It had been Angie who had gotten them both out the bedroom window—she was no stranger to sneaking out, after all. And Angie had gotten them both fake IDs, another thing she knew too much about. But Isabel had led her across the country, even though she didn’t know where to go any more than Angie did. Isabel had gotten a job to take care of them both, and hadn’t said a word about the scholarships she would never get a chance at now. Isabel had made sure they both ate healthy, and had tossed out Angie’s beer and cigarettes whenever she tried to sneak them into the apartment.

It took PERI two years to track them down. Angie still didn’t know how they had done it. They took Isabel while she was out working like a responsible adult. They could easily have gotten Angie at the same time, while she was sleeping late, clutching her empty contraband beer bottle from last night to her chest like it was a teddy bear. But they had waited too long. Isabel’s inner scream had woken her. She watched the whole thing happen while coming awake, like it was a bad dream.

Isabel’s fear and pain had bought Angie enough time to run.

In the five days since, Angie had experienced all of it alongside Isabel. They had wanted to test her abilities. She hadn’t wanted to cooperate. It had taken them the better part of a day to convince her. Angie could still feel the burn of the electric shocks in her bones.

Then the days of testing—gauging her range, her ability to project her own thoughts, her skill at picking up visual images and abstract concepts from another person’s mind as well as words. The test hadn’t been so bad. While they were testing her, Angie could concentrate well enough to drive without a cigarette.

Unlike when they started asking her how to find Angie.

Apparently they’d gone back for her. They hadn’t even been worried when they hadn’t found her at the apartment. They had trusted their ability to track her down. Until they came up empty.

It seemed like they hadn’t considered the possibility that Angie might be hurtling straight toward them.

Isabel knew, of course. She could have told them. She didn’t. No matter what they did to her—and they had done a lot. There were times Angie had pulled over to look down at herself, certain she was bleeding from Isabel’s wounds.

Angie had thought that was the worst it could get.

But now their testing was done, and they were cutting into Isabel’s brain.

A wave of sick nausea came through the connection. It wasn’t pain. But it was worse than pain, somehow. A bone-deep sensation of wrongness. Even through the nicotine, it was strong enough to make Angie clap a hand over her mouth, afraid she would vomit all over the car.

I’m on my way, she promised Isabel. Not because Isabel didn’t already know, but because she didn’t know what else to say. She couldn’t say It’s okay when it wasn’t. She had never been much of a liar.

Angie… Isabel’s inner voice was a weak thread of a whisper. The rest of her sister’s message came through as a mumble. Angie couldn’t make out the words, or even the meaning behind them.

Angie stepped on the gas again. She honked at the eighteen-wheeler in front of her.

Angie… don’t…

Angie sped around the truck. The driver honked at her, long and low.

As she was sliding back into her own lane, her vision went black. Only for a second, but when it came back, the car was skidding sideways across the road, and people were madly swerving around her, honking their horns, gesturing angrily.

She swerved and slid into the nearest empty lane, barely paying attention to the road. Isabel!

Another wave of swimming nausea made her vision blur and her stomach lurch. Angie… don’t come after me. It’s too late. Turn around. Don’t let them do this to you too.

Like hell, Angie thought at her as fiercely as she could, and pushed the gas pedal to the floor.

Then something in Angie’s brain went dark. Like an arm going numb; like a foot being sliced from her body. That was the only way she knew how to think of it. The nausea was gone, and the wrongness, and the crawly feeling on her scalp. Even the panic.

Just… gone.

The sense of Isabel, which she had never been without since before the day they were born… gone.

But the inner compass was still there. That had to mean something, right? Isabel couldn’t be completely gone, as long as Angie could still sense her presence.

Unless it was just some kind of residual trace, like a trail of smoke in the air. Did it feel different? Fainter?

Angie wouldn’t analyze it. She couldn’t afford to go there.

The inner compass gave a lurch, tugging her to the right. She swerved onto the exit ramp, drawing another chorus of honks.

A small, shabby downtown greeted her. None of the roads went the right way. She took a right turn, a left turn, another right, while her inner compass tugged insistently straight ahead.

Was the tug weaker? It was, wasn’t it? It felt loose, like a rubber band suddenly gone slack.

Nope. Angie wouldn’t go there. She couldn’t. Not yet. She could think about that after she found Isabel. Alive.

At last, she found a road that took her in the same direction that her sense of Isabel was tugging her. The tug was fainter now, too much so to ignore. A thin and breakable thread where a thick braid of rope used to be.

The thread snapped just as she pulled into the parking lot of a bland, anonymous business complex.

The sign outside promised a dentist’s office, a therapist, and something called Scientific Industries, Inc. She made an educated guess. She shoved her way inside and barged through the inner door that said Scientific Industries, Inc. on an anonymous metal plaque.

The lobby was small and discreet—two chairs and a gray-haired woman behind the desk. The receptionist motioned her toward one of the chairs, no doubt assuming she was supposed to be there.

She didn’t sit. She pulled out the gun Isabel had come home with the day they’d signed their fake names to the lease on their new apartment. Isabel hadn’t said where she had gotten it. Angie hadn’t asked.

She aimed the gun at the wide-eyed receptionist’s chest and ordered, “Take me to the lab.”

The receptionist didn’t bother with denials. She led Angie down a narrow hallway covered in thin, ugly carpet, like every doctor’s office Angie had ever been in. A white-coated man turned a corner toward them. At the sight of the gun, his eyes went as wide as the receptionist’s.

Angie recognized his face. She had seen it in her dreams that hadn’t been dreams.

With the hand holding the gun, she motioned him toward the receptionist. He fell into line.

He kept sneaking glances at her. He recognized her, too. Of course he did—she and Isabel were identical.

But he didn’t say a word. Smart of him. If he had, Angie might have shot him right then and there.

The trembling receptionist. opened the door at the end of the hall. There it was—the white room with its bright white light. And there she was. Isabel. The chair was like a dentist’s chair, and Isabel lay limp, her head slumped to one side.

The back of her head was covered in white gauze. Her face was pale, bloodless. Her eyes were closed.

Angie couldn’t sense her. She was right here, and Angie couldn’t sense her.

Isabel, she shouted. Isabel, I’m here.

Nothing.

It took her a few seconds to notice the other white-coated man in the room. He was using a stylus to scribble notes on a tablet. When he saw her little parade, he raised his hands. The tablet fell to the floor and shattered.

He looked from her to Isabel, and must have known who she was, because he didn’t bother asking who she was or why she was here. He babbled something. Something like, Don’t shoot. Something like, I’m sorry. Something like, I don’t know what went wrong.

He had blood smeared down the front of his white coat.

Angie shot him.

She shot the other white-coated man before he could run. She leveled the gun at the trembling receptionist. “Get out of here,” she ordered. “Before I decide you’re responsible for this too.”

The receptionist ran.

There would be more people coming, drawn by the sound of the gunshots. They would probably have guns of their own. Angie wasn’t sure she cared.

I’m sorry, she whispered to the dead space what Isabel had been. She lifted the limp body of her sister into her arms. I’m sorry they took you and not me. You could have gotten there in time. I’ve always been the fuckup.

Isabel’s eyes fluttered open.

“Angie?” she whispered.

Isabel, Angie whispered, in wonder and in joy. But the space that had always been Isabel was still empty.

“Isabel?” Her voice was hesitant. She couldn’t remember the last time she had used her voice to speak to her sister. Not since their parents were alive, and they’d had to do it purely for show.

Isabel’s face crumpled. “I can’t… in my head. I can’t feel you.”

There would be time later, Angie knew, to grieve what they had lost. But not yet. Because Isabel was alive. Angie had gotten there in time after all.

For once, she hadn’t fucked it up.

It’s okay, she said, and then stopped herself. “It’s okay,” she said, starting towards the door with her sister in her arms. “I’m going to get you out of here. And then I’m going to take care of you.”

Whatever it took.

Even if it meant she had to learn to be the responsible one.

“Told you… not to come,” Isabel mumbled, her eyes already fluttering shut again.

“Yeah, well,” said Angie, shifting Isabel’s weight against her chest, “I’ve never been good at doing what I’m supposed to do.”

She didn’t sense Isabel’s emotion like she was used to. But she felt Isabel’s mouth curve into a smile as Isabel let her head rest against Angie’s chest. Like Angie was a solid place for her to rest.

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Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @gala1981

Ask to be added or removed from my Whumptober 2023 taglist.

[abhainnwhump]

[sad-leon]

firefight animatic for my lovely friend @remedyturtles [Spoilers up until Chapter 9]

unfortunately the last chunk of frames are incomplete and will likely remain that way as i have hit a massive mental brick wall -- probably an ugly mix of depression and burnout -- but I wanted to share my vision, so I edited what I had

Song Used: Dancing After Death by Matt Maeson

wish I had more to say but im dead on the floor,, sorry

[corkinavoid]

Okay, yeah, I just wrote a post about good!GIW like three days ago, but

DPxDC GIW Using Ghosts as Living Weapons

TW: dehumanization, mention of electrocution, whump

I've been watching Hell's Paradise, and it got me thinking. What if GIW doesn't just catch and study ghosts? After all, their tech is no match for something like Vortex or Undergrowth, or even Technus.

What if they catch ghosts and turn them into living weapons? Train them into following commands like dogs, and force them into obedience. Dehumanize them in the worst way possible, treating them like machines.

Ghosts are not sentient or sapient in their opinion, but they feel pain. They can be trained.

What I'm saying is whump Danny, mostly, but make it interesting. Make it not just a teen in pain, no, make him a merciless machine that follows any given order with unmatched efficiency, someone who doesn't feel any emotions anymore, knowing no pleas or cries will work.

I'm thinking along the lines of a muzzle, or a collar that gives him electric shocks every time he either disobeys or does anything he was not told to do.

Now, I've got two ideas of where this can go. One, GIW gifts Danny to the JL as an ultimate, all-powerful weapon. Maybe they don't even specify he is a ghost at first, presenting him as an object, and then they get to do a demonstration, and the JL is promptly horrified at the sight of what they think is a meta kid in a muzzle that doesn't even have holes for him to breath. And when they very carefully try asking GIW to explain this, GIW just shows off Danny's powers. Which are, well, a lot. Maybe they ask Danny to do something like, I dunno, destroy an asteroid or shit. Something big, something most members of the JL are not able to do single-handedly, but Danny does it easily, with little effort. And GIW explains that this kind of power, especially coming from a ghost, a being malicious at its core, can not be kept on the loose without any restraints.

The second idea includes Al Ghul Twins. GIW can have some ties with League of Shadows, so maybe they made Danny into a living weapon with the sole purpose of making him Ra's' living weapon. So Danny ends up back in the League, and Ra's tasks him with killing one of the Bats, or maybe stealing something, anyway, he ends up in Gotham. Where he meets Damian, and, boom, siblings' feelings hit. Cue all the whump angst you can imagine.

I'm not sure how to incorporate Fentons in the second idea. Maybe it was all a coincidence - Talia faking Danyal's death, him being adopted by Fentons, then later found out and contained by GIW. Or maybe it was all staged beforehand, and Ra's specifically put Danny there. Or maybe we bypass the Fentons in the first place and Ra's simply gives a spare kid to GIW in order for them to try and make him more powerful with the help of Lazarus Waters/ectoplasm. Maybe this can even be some kind of reincarnation.

Also, more ghosts can be added to the mix.

Danny disobeying the orders in order to protect Dani and getting tortured for it. Ember being used for mind control. Dan being the prototype of the living weapon program, the first experiment that turned out wrong and has been locked and kept contained.

The opportunities are endless.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Concept: Hiccup starting to overshare when he unconsciously realizes he has close human friends and accidentally sharing some very depressing facts about his life that he doesn't realize are actually depressing because he is so used to them and the Dragon Riders are just 😶

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Stressed and Sick on Set

Summary: Reader has a migraine and gets sick on set. Luckily Scarlett, Lizzie and her twin sisters are there to help you out.

TWs: migraine, vomiting, hiding illness, stress, mentions of family issues, mentions / implied themes of death

Words: 2.9k

A/n Idk where this came from but here it is … enjoy x

With the chaos that was currently your life it was no surprise or at least it shouldn’t have been when you were hit with the mother of all migraines.

To say people had been asking a lot of you lately was a gross understatement. Aside from filming your family had been a mess as of late. The whole family was expected back home for Christmas as your grandmother was sick and so the plan was for everyone to get together one last time.

However, between acting and uni work you were already stretched pretty thin. Your parents had been breathing down your neck to book a flight and despite wanting to see some of your cousins you knew family gatherings were a recipe for disaster. And with a sombre reason for the get together it would most likely be a mess of alcohol and tears which wasn’t something you were sure you could even deal with at this point.

Luckily the migraine hadn’t hit until you were finished in hair and makeup because the idea of anyone touching your face and hair with the amount of pain you were in right now might just push you over the edge.

The light blinded you as you stepped out of the hair and makeup trailer. Shielding your eyes you fumbled with clumsy fingers to put on your sunglasses.

Sighing softy as the sunlight was reduced you continued you way to set. You nodded as you passed a few stagehands and crew members. Finally, you made it to set. Lizzie and Scarlett were stood near their chairs talking with two blondes who you couldn’t quite see with the other two stood in front of them.

Joining the small group Scarlett wrapped a hand around your shoulders and pulled you into her side making your head spin.

“Speak of the devil.” Lizzie said. “Y/n, you’ve met my sisters before but if you can't tell them apart this one is Mary-Kate and that ones Ashley.” Lizzie said poking her sister's side.

“Hi Y/n.” Mary-Kate said with a smile and Ashley mimicked her statement.

“Hi.” You said softly. The noise of the set was getting to you and despite your sunglasses the fluorescent lights overhead seemed worse than the sun had been.

“Whats with the shades Y/n/n?” Scarlett asked.

“‘M just too cool for you.” You said burying your face into her neck in an attempt to hide from the lights. The adults laughed and your cheeks heated up with the tips of your ears turning pink also.

The four of them stood and chatted while you stayed relatively quiet only really speaking when spoken to. Your head was pounding, and the lights seemed to be out to get you. The hum of electricity and buzz of the stage crew flitting around setting up for the next scene was starting to make you nauseous.

Lizzie and Scarlett took note of your quiet demeanour and exchanged a look over your head. Your head was still resting in the crook of Scarlett’s neck as you tried your best to look and act normally.

A small part of you craved their motherly attention but you knew if you admitted to being sick, they would have you out of commission for a few days at least as per the contract. And if you were down with some sickness even if it was a migraine Lizzie and Scarlett would be by your side the whole time and as much as you loved them, you didn’t want to put everyone behind schedule due to your inability to handle your day to day life coupled with the demands of work.

However, as you heard the director call for places to be taken you wanted to reconsider.

Scarlett and Lizzie had already been shooting scenes this morning and now you were to join them they seemed happier.

Mary-Kate and Ashley sat down in Scarlett and Lizzie’s chairs to watch. Both twins had taken note of your sullen and quiet temperament also and were tasked by Lizzie with keeping an eye on you.

As you took your place you had forgotten your sunglasses which were still over your eyes. The director finished organising everything and before he called action he took notice of your unusual attire.

“L/n as much as I love the look, the sunglasses need to go kiddo.” He called and you buried a wince under your façade as you knew removing them would make everything ten times worse. But you had to if you wanted to keep up the pretence of wellness.

Taking a deep breath, you eased the sunglasses off your face and blinked in the harsh light. Your nausea increased and you swallowed down the thick feeling in your mouth, wishing you had some water to help.

A stagehand took your sunglasses and handed them to Ashley who has stood to get them for you before she returned to her seat.

Scarlett and Lizzie were observing you closely as they begun to cotton on to your less than perfect act of being ok.

Your eyes were still adjusting to the blaring lights, and you were trying to keep the nausea at bay. You truly felt awful. Your head pounded and there was a slight dizziness that came with each step you took. Your mouth was dry, and your stomach turned with each breath you took.

Doing your best to remain upright and keep your breakfast where it was you took slow measured breaths until you felt at least one percent better.

Schooling your features you did your best to get into character despite your condition.

The director called for quiet, and the set fell dead silent. The cameras began rolling and Scarlett and Lizzie delivered their lines perfectly. Doing your best to stay mentally present you did your best to give your lines. You nailed the first few scenes and you were beginning to think maybe you could get away with it all.

As you were internally celebrating your small victory you watched from the sidelines as Lizzie and Scarlett performed another of their scenes without your character.

Your stomach was still turning and the feeling of nausea which had begun to ebb hit you hard.

Feeling quite sick and dizzy you glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to you. The stage crew was busy running the scene and it seemed you were in the clear.

As the scene progressed the director was shooting a particular scene with harsh lighting. Still unsure where your sunglasses were, you felt the sick feeling in your stomach get ten times worse as they began amping up the lighting. They had background noise playing and coupled with the lighting you recognised your body’s signals to having enough.

Checking once more that nobody was paying any attention to you, you slipped away to the bathrooms. Know you were going to be sick was a terrible feeling and despite your best to keep it all down you knew you wouldn’t be able to much longer.

You hurried down the halls to the girl's bathroom and slipped inside. Forgetting to lock the door to the stall you sat next to the toilet and leant against the wall taking slow deep breaths in a last-ditch attempt to keep your breakfast.

As you sat on the floor still in costume and breathing slowly you heard the door to the bathroom open again. You recognised the voice of Mary-Kate echo around the stalls.

“Y/n? Are you in here?“ she asked, and you made a small noise before your stomach turned again and you leant over the bowl. As the first wave of sickness hit and you vomited you felt someone take your hair up and off your shoulders.

A soft hand rubbed circles on your back as you finished, spitting the gross taste out. Your head was pounding, and you felt truly gross.

“Shh your ok.” Mary-Kate said as you let out a small whine the pain in your head making everything worse as you clutched your temples. “Is it your head?” She asked softly and you managed a small nod.

You felt her slip something onto your face and you let out a small sigh as you recognised your sunglasses being put in their rightful place.

After a second you leant back against the wall.

“Done?” She asked kindly and you seesawed your hand back and forth to tell her you truly had no idea. Mary-Kate nodded and took a seat beside you on the floor. Luckily, they kept the bathrooms on set rather clean.

Mary-Kate hesitated for a second before gently pulling you into her side where you melted into her. Your head resting on her shoulder she gently played with your hair, and it felt nice despite the pounding in your skull.

“Your ok.” She said softly as she slipped her phone from her pocket. You let your eyes drift shut as you tired to remove yourself from it all.

You distantly heard Mary-Kate talking to someone and you couldn’t find it in your sick-self to pay any attention to her words.

You began to drift off the exhaustion of it all making you feel beyond tired.

Meanwhile Mary-Kate had dialled her twin to let her know what was going on. The twins had taken note of your absence as soon as you left and while Ashley went to check your trailer Mary-Kate had come to check the bathroom. They knew something was going on and they took their promise to Lizzie to look after you quite seriously.

Mary-Kate kept her voice down as she informed her sister of your status.

“Did you find her?” Ashley asked into the phone.

“Yeah, she’s not doing too good.” Mary-Kate replied.

“How so?” Her twin asked.

“I found her throwing up in the bathroom, I think she has a migraine.”

“Poor thing.” Ashley replied.

Mary-Kate hummed her agreement, her nails still gently massaging your scalp as you dozed lightly in her lap. “Can you get Lizzie in here when she’s done with her scene. And tell the director y/n’s sick and won’t be back for filming for a few days.”

“Sure thing. Which bathroom are you guys in?” Ashley responded.

“Main one on set. I don’t think she could have made it much further to be honest she not doing too good.” Mary-Kate whispered well aware you were pretty out of it.

“Alright. I’ll do that and Lizzie will be there soon, no doubt with Scarlett in tow.” Ashley said.

“Thanks Ash I’m gonna stay here with this one.” Mary-Kate said.

“You think she can move somewhere more comfortable?” Ashley asked.

Mary-Kate glanced down at your pale face despite the makeup. “I don’t think so just yet.” She said.

“Alright, love you sis. Keep her safe and we’ll be there soon.” Ashley said.

“Love you too.” Mary-Kate said, and they bid each other goodbye before hanging up.

As Mary-Kate shifted slightly to try and get more comfortable on the hard floor you let out a small whine as your head spun. Mary-Kate shushed you gently as she adjusted you to be better situated in her lap. You curled into her, your face now smushed into her chest as you clung to her like a small child.

“Your ok. It’s alright.” She assured you as you whined softly. The pain making it hard to think straight also made you act much more childish. “Lizzie will be here soon honey.” Mary-Kate said as she ran her nails up and down your back lightly as you were lulled back to a soft sleep.

It couldn’t have been even ten minutes later that the door to the bathroom burst open and a worried looking Lizzie appeared trailed closely behind by Scarlett who looked slighter calmer but still worried.

Unfortunately, the bang of the door made you jump and only made your head hurt more. As the spike of pain stabbed through your temples your stomach revolted once more.

Feeling hazy from the pain you gagged, still half laid in Mary-Kate’s lap. She was quick to sit you upright and position you in front of the toilet. You whimpered as you tried to fight it off.

You heard shuffling and low voices behind you as the person behind you switched places. A soft hand rubbed between your shoulder blades as another scooped the hair off the back of your neck and out of the way. It was Lizzie’s soft voice in your ear whispering reassurances as you heaved.

Nothing but bile came up and you had tears burning in your eyes from the effort. Your head was swimming. Distantly you heard Mary-Kate and Scarlett talking softly outside the stall. There was also a third voice in their conversation, and you assumed Ashley had followed the other two in.

Feeling exhausted you flopped back into Lizzie who was crouched behind you. Not expected you to put all your weight on her she fell on her butt and pulled you into her lap.

“Shhh honey, we’re here baby.” Lizzie whispered feeling your forehead with her cold hand. It brought you unexpected relief and you nuzzled into her palm, head resting on her chest behind you.

Your eyes fluttered shut feeling exhausted, sick and in pain.

After a moment you felt Lizzie readjust behind you as she pulled you into her lap properly, her body now leant against the wall behind her.

Scarlett looked into the stall and frowned slightly at the sight of you half asleep on the bathroom floor.

“How is she?” Scarlett asked softly.

“I think she’s done for now but she’s beyond tired.” Lizzie whispered back. “Where are the twins?”

“They went to set up our trailer for her. She’s not staying alone in her trailer when she’s this sick.” Scarlett said.

“‘M not sick.” You mumbled half listening and lifting your head slightly from Lizzie’s chest.

“Shh go to sleep silly girl, we’re here sweetie.” Scarlett shushed you gently and you rested you head back down once more prompting Lizzie to stroke her hands through your hair with a featherlight touch so as not to cause you any pain. You hummed exhaustedly as you drifted off again to state halfway between sleep and wakefulness.

Scarlett took a seat on the floor beside Lizzie as the two of them sat talking quietly while you dozed.

After another ten minutes the door to the bathroom opened softly to reveal Ashley.

“We set up Lizzie’s trailer for her. Mary-Kate went to try and find some Panadol for y/n/n. Is she good to relocate?” Ashley asked softly.

“I think so.” Lizzie said while Scarlett gently scooped you out of Lizzie’s lap and into her arms as she stood. Ashley came over and gently adjusted the sunglasses on your face.

“I got a sick bag from a medic incase she gets sick on the way back to your trailer and there’s a few extras in your trailer waiting for her.” Ashley said.

“Thank you so much.” Lizzie said as the four of you left the bathroom. Luckily you stayed asleep still throughly exhausted from the effort of being sick and in pain.

It was a short trip back and even despite having sunglasses on scarlet used a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. You were being held across Scarlett’s front with your head resting in the crook of her elbow. At some point Ashley had slid a pair of noise cancelling headphones over your ears to help block out the noise as they passed through the bustling set.

The director had given them all a few days off knowing that Scarlett and Lizzie wouldn’t be willing to act if you were sick and left alone, them much rather being by your side looking after you.

When they made it to your trailer Lizzie opened the door for Scarlett and they all headed inside with you still in Scarlett’s arms.

The trailer had been set up perfectly. Blackout curtains blocked out most of the light but there was enough to see after letting their eyes adjust for a second. There were three sick bags on the bedside table along with a pack of Panadol rapid and a glass of water. The bed had been set up with blankets and pillows, looking perfect for a long day of cuddles.

Scarlett gently set you down on the bed and Lizzie laid down next to you as you immediately sought her out. Curling into her side and returning to a still and restful sleep Scarlett exchanged a few short words with Ashley, thanking her for everything before the twin left to find her other half.

Scarlett joined Lizzie on the bed, and you curled up between them.

“She’s so precious.” Lizzie said softly running her hands through your hair lightly so as not to wake you.

“Well always protect her.” Scarlett said.

“Of course. She’s, our kid.” Lizzie said.

“Do you think she’d ever want to make it official?” Scarlett asked.

“Like adoption?” Lizzie said looking excited at the idea.

“Yeah. I know her parents are … not what she needs.” Scarlett said.

“I think I’d love that. When she’s better we’ll have to ask her what she thinks.” Lizzie said looking down at you with nothing but love in her eyes. She pressed a soft kiss to your temple and traced a finger down your cheek. “I love you my babygirl.”

“We both do.” Scarlett echoed.

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[phoebepheebsphibs]

It's 1AM but I DID IT

Chapter 13 of HIDE AND SEEK, Part 2 is posted...

As well as a short story!

[daydreamsandcrashingwaves]

Keeping It Close To The Chest Pt 1

Edited 12/25/23 ~~ Here's Part Two ~~

Part Three Part Four

I devoured the Damian Wayne and Danny Fenton are Twins tags and had to make something of my own to add. This is my first fanfic I've decided to post. I'm much more familiar with the DP side of things but I gave it my best shot. Hope this brings joy anyway. If I decide to post this on A03 I will have it beta'd since I made this in like four parts and then wove them together so the flow may not always be there whoopps.. but for now I just wanted to share this with all you!

TW/CW: Medical experimentation and trauma, parental abuse/neglect, wound description, blood-ectoplasm and human, death (it's danny, he's the culprit lol will apply to Jason too if I add to this), body horror (to be safe), PTSD and flashbacks, childhood trauma and abuse, dehumanization

If I missed a tag/warning please let me know! I've never been an extensive tagger so i tried real hard to get everything, but I am human and could've missed something. Much love, stay safe.

~Ren

He had to keep moving. He could still hear their screams of rage ringing in his ears. Faster, he had to be faster. His blind panic had created an opportunity, a sliver of hope Danyal was determined to twist to his advantage. He was limping forward on uncertain legs. His vision swayed with the movement, and he fought to keep upright. His chest was on fire, Danny pressed his hands tightly to the wound there in a desperate attempt to keep his organs from spilling out like confetti. He kept his arms tucked close and rounded his shoulders to try and keep his torso still while he moved quickly through the empty streets of his once home. His chest was by far injured the worst, but he had paid no mind to the others. If he dared to stop, he would fully die.

Even in his human form, Danny just knows he's leaving a glowing blood trail behind him, the ectoplasm burning into the ground behind him. Whatever side of his transformation his body was currently showing it didn't matter, he was simultaneously both, always. The trail was evidence he transformed due to necessity, he became so durable after dying that it took a lot to hurt him. Danny risked a glance down and paled further. The green he spilled as Phantom mixed with red. A fucked up corrosive bread trail right to him. He was sure he truly was in deep shit. He just had to get to his go bag. Over time with his parent's inventions getting more dangerous the more Danny had to think about putting into motion The Great Escape.

Anything important he had always kept hidden, but Danny had taken everything out of his room once he had died the second time, and Danny was grateful for the convenience to be able to phase things into walls, floors, ceilings. It made his things pretty secure; no human could find it and any ghost that came through was too focused on their obsession or fighting him to go on a treasure hunt for his hidden things.

Danny's willful ignorance of his body as he stumbles farther from FentonWorks doesn’t stop the slight burn of his ectoplasm against the edges of his wounds and the tatters of his hazmat suit pulling on the scabbing blood or the smell. Ancients the smell. It’s rancid, he hasn’t been able to cycle it properly without his normal supply of fresh ectoplasm from the Zone. Only provided in small bursts when his parents wanted to see how his body healed with and without ectoplasm. He can feel the whispers of his terror, anger, grief that’s flowing through his blood.

He had been overconfident way back when he had threatened Vlad with exposing his secret. He had thought they'd love him despite having kept his halfa status from them, he hadn't been prepared for the distrust, the hatred, the way they moved farther and farther from thought out experiments to revenge. Danny knows Maddie and Jack still see him as the quiet, shaken child so desperate to be good, craving acceptance by the eccentric family that took him in when they look at him. If Danny had to guess they had been so blinded in their rage to even realized it was their machine, their failure that made him this way. Now they really did want him dead.

He’s whole somehow, despite their best effort, he just needs time. Ancients, He’s not exactly the monster they pictured, but He's not human... He’s whole.

The thought tastes bitter and Danny strangles it before it can expand. He must be focused. Taking a measured breath Danny turns down a familiar alley, he goes intangible with a slight twinge in his core, slipping into the bathroom of Nasty Burger. He’s done this so many times the familiar path brings comfort, reassurance. Like maybe things will start to turn for the better. Making his way over to the stall Danny debated whether it was worth climbing the toilet or floating up there. No, it was better to grit his teeth and bare it. There were only three containers of ectoplasm in his bag, he needed to preserve what strength he had. He would soon have no way to access the Zone for a refill.

Danny took one hand and placed it on the wall before careful stepping up. Lifting his leg had sent waves of pain across his nerves but with a grunt he leveraged himself up. His vision went black at the edges, he was dizzy, and bile clawed at the back of his throat. Danny took a few breaths, while he might not need to breathe, he’s been human longer than not, and well.. he’s only half ghost so the habit carried over to when he's Phantom. Danny was immensely grateful for his time in the League, the training was brutal, he still has nightmares about dying the first time but.. he did learn how to survive in situations that if he was truly a Fenton, would've killed him many times over. As Danny was Danyal Al Ghul Fenton, he always had back up plans. His Mother had been heavy handed with those lessons.

It was painful to think about Talia. She had been Grandfather’s favored child and the weight of his expectations of his grandsons was enforced by her. Lessons or punishment, very rarely praise was given to Danny by his Mother's hand. Each milestone was meticulously observed and reported back, doubly so for their failures. Tiny bodies with too big of weapons, green and blue eyes, a face mirroring his own but twisted in determination, competition. His older brother, his twin. They were inseparable, until they weren't.

Danny's core throbs in his chest, he wanted to shy away from the thought, yet the inconsolable part of him screams at the injustice of being the only one to escape their Grandfather. If only Danny could've proven himself, perhaps his brother would've had a chance to leave in his stead, but Danny knows just how much he was lacking in comparison to his brother, and it was their skill, or lack thereof in Danny's case, that sealed their fates. Danny was able to avoid Ra's overseeing eyes when they moved off the failure of a Spare and homed in on his true Heir. The grandson who took to their lessons like a duck in water. Deathly beautiful, Danny used to think as he watched his brother dance and fly through his training. Talia couldn't defy Ra's orders but if she just.. misplaced.. the Spare that was abandoned, well, no one has come for him yet.

Danny knows she loved him, somewhere hidden, deep inside his Grandfather's perfect pet assassin. She loved him enough to send him away when it became clear Ra’s saw no need in the Spare that was no longer needed, she had loved him when she had beaten him and left mortal wounds-their only chance to fool Grandfather, she loved him when she had given him his packed bag and left him outside that orphanage in Chicago with lazarus water raging in his veins, and she loved him when she told him to forget.

Forget about the League her and his brother, his family.

With brief tight squeeze to his small shoulder her she told him if he was in danger to find Bruce Wayne and then Talia Al Ghul was gone and Danyal-just Danyal now- was left truly on his own for the first time ever.

Danny was definitely in danger now; his situation was grave and despite everything the pun brought a small smile to his face. He couldn’t go back home to the Fenton's. He tries to forget how he froze in his surprise when he realized his parents didn’t take his reveal as Phantom as well as they had let on. They had smiled and stalled until they had found a way to contain him. By then it was too late, he had gotten too complacent in his run on a normal life.

Only after Ancients knows how long he had been resisting, pleading, screaming-I’m still Danny, it hurts mom please, I’m still me, Dad I’m alive- did Maddie find his core. Too tired to move it away from her gaze any longer and when her fingers brushed it the wave of mind-numbing terror exploded out of him. Something must've been on her gloves because his core burned. It ripped a wail from his throat while he writhed on the table. Ice responded like it never was taken from him by the anti-ghost restraints.

Danny could still distantly feel the ghostly ice that had trapped them in place and shattered his restraints under the pressure the frozen water bursting into existence. Even trapped in his ghost ice they were steadily working on getting out and would be on the hunt for him again soon. He wouldn't allow them to catch him again.

The mere idea they’d be on their way already spurred Danny back into action. Slipping his hand into the wall he grabbed the strap and pulled his bag out, careful to keep it weightless, and slid off the toilet and back down to the floor. He hasn't seen his dagger in months, it hurt too much to practice without Dami, his other half. Here it is though, innocently tied to his bag and his gaze traced it lovingly, before searching inside the biggest pocket for his first aid kit. He didn't have time for stiches, so he reaches for the butterfly bandages and starts to pull the skin together before securing it. It's really the first proper look he gets, it's... unsettling at the very least, horrifying, to see a wound reserved for autopsies on his chest.

The Y incision is inflamed and still bleeding so he carefully follows its path until he's done. Grabbing gauze, he starts to reinforce pad, wrapping a roll of bandages around to hold everything in place. Danny bites his lip and thinks for a moment, he will need stitches, he's been wounded enough in this half-life to know that. The likelihood for his work to stay in place while he flies is less than he'd like. Making a decision and with a mental shrug he takes an ectoshot from the smaller pocket and stabbed it into his thigh before pressing the depressor. Pure energy zapped through his system hard, angerly surges to settle in his chest. Feeling a bit better but more.. wired Danny takes a second to calm. Steeling himself he tries to nudge his core, it responds in a weak pulse.

Danny's body protests, he can feel his muscles shred and reform, his bones twist like taffy, his organs melt together before settling to form his ectobody. It's all over in a flash of bright light, yet the pain felt endless. Overwhelming in its intensity but gone just as quickly as it came leaving Danny sweaty and panting. Transforming injured was tricky, he had to carefully picture where the bandages were, so he didn't lose all his hard work.

Confusion settled as a fog, clinging to his thoughts, making them murky. His hands were covered in blood, his body hurt, and he couldn't quite remember why, there was a siren coming closer. Everything in him screamed to run, to escape, but his hunters were too close now, freed from his ice to kill him fully. On instinct Danny's nails grew to claws, ripping into space to create a portal. He was weak, always had been, but he was good at running, hiding away in the shadows. Ghost was once a name of his, a proud title, not just what he is now.

Just as the doors burst open in a teal and orange blur Danny dove into the swirling green and hoped Clockwork was watching so at least someone knew things had exploded here in Amity. He hasn't needed to be on his own like this since after Jazz first saw him and demanded that her parents bring Danny home with them. He misses her now as the path out of Nasty Burger closes behind him. Danny's falling, dropping towards the ground too fast for eyes to track but his impact had definitely shaken the room. With a pained whine and a flash Danny was back to being human again, his landing had pulled at whatever scab was able to form in the twentyish minutes it took him to drag himself away from the basement. Danny was going to be sick, the sticky cool liquid that had his clothes clinging to him, was going to be very alarming when he finally could give himself a proper once over. He could feel the new bruises as he tried to roll off the pallets he had crushed.

"Oh! Someone decided to drop by! " A man called out with glee as he sauntered in his direction. "Shall we see who our special guest is?" Danny could feel the rotten soul as he got closer. Too close. Forgoing moving Danny tensed in anticipation. He was hurt, yes, but he would go down fighting. He could do that much to make his brother proud, even if he never realized Danny lived to 15 not 5. Before he could uncurl to swing at the man there was the soft sound of fabric rustling and a blade being drawn. Curling tighter Danny hoped he had enough juice to go intangible.

"You will not reach your goal Joker; Do you not get sick of trying?" The voice was smooth, deeper than he remembered but it's been 10 years, it's understandable that puberty changed his brother's voice. Danny would recognize it anywhere. Danny jinxed himself, somehow. How he ended up in the same room as the brother he hadn't seen in a decade, Danny wasn't sure. He was terrified though. Where Damian was the League and their Grandfather wasn't far behind. Damian had carefully hidden away his care as a child but would shower Danny in it in the darkness of their room. After years apart and Grandfather's continued influence Danny was uncertain how much of Damian truly remained.

There was a burst of noise, of movement and a struggle then silence covered the room. Danny's hands were shaking. "Nightwing, first aid is required inside, bring the kit." His brother paused, "No, a civilian, a metahuman if his unusually colored blood is to be taken into account."

Danny could feel his brother's scrutiny, his gaze held weight as it scanned over his collapsed form, he tried to curl more but a hand brushing his shoulder had Danny screaming and scrambling away.

Damian's hands twitched at his side, an aborted motion to draw his sword. He seemed to pause then they flew up empty, placating- it didn't bring Danny any comfort.

An assassin's greatest tool was always their hands. Green eyes tracked him, narrowing at the way Danny was shrinking into the shadows. Dread swam down his spine to settle hard in his gut. Of all the ways to meet his brother again, it had to be when he was dying, for a third time. Danny reached blindly for whatever was next to him to pull himself up, his knees wobbled precariously but he would be standing for this. He had to be. Black spots were now in his vision, but he forced a smirk onto his face. Danny was sure he was a sight to see, torn clothes, skin riddled with bruises, green and red blood splattered all over like a kindergartener's messy painting of Christmas, limp dirty hair.

Danny knows Damian is assessing him, taking in what he can see in front of him to efficiently deal with it as they were trained to do. potential strengths and weaknesses. Behind both the domino mask and his calm exterior Damian is taking in a snapshot. Danny wonders what he sees, if his brother recognizes the boy he’s grown into, Danny’s core thrums wildly and he tries not to fidget. The slight frown that pulls at Damian’s mouth means he caught the aborted motion.

"Damn, green, yellow and red... You look like a traffic light!" He gets one giggle in before he chokes on it. Danny can't breathe. His brother had gone deathly still when Danny spoke. He could see the war of emotions fighting through his brother, suspicion was quickly doused with rage. "How dare she." The Arabic was an unexpected comfort, but Danny felt confusion at the words. He's severely out of practice, he thought he understood but doubt settled in. He wasn't sure.

Damian had always stood firm next to him in the League, calm, driven and decisive, the perfect heir for their Grandfather. He was always warm to Danny though, would allow traces of his true feelings to be visible when Damian would inevitably catch Danny sneaking out of his bed to stargaze. Danny would get scolded, every time. Grandfather would punish him harshly for such indulgences, he knew it. Attachments were weaknesses and Grandfather would not grow weakness in the League, in his heirs. Danny may be weak and the Spare but he was smart. He knows what the looks of distaste meant from his Grandfather. He knew how his failures would catch up to him and how Grandfather disapproved of his influence on Damian. Yet Danny kept going back, hiding in the shadows to gaze at the stars and wait for his brother to come find him.

Danny had braced for Damian to be mad when he realizes Danny didn’t truly die that day and has stayed away from his brother, but Danny couldn’t have expected this.

Pure hatred lights up in Damian’s eyes when he finally realizes what is in front of him. It's Danny’s undoing. Everything else that has happened seemed like a cakewalk compared to being rejected by the person who had always understood him most. Ghosts are the manifestation of their emotions. Frostbite had explained once how injuries can manifest in a ghost's form on their own. Emotional pain could make them unravel down to their cores, until even that disappeared.

For Danny, there was uncertainty, halfas were so rare that there wasn’t much off hand knowledge, but Danny has always known from the second he died. There was no separation between his human and ghost halves. He just was. What fancy wrapping he showed off hardly mattered. Things bleed so easily between them, Danny Fenton and Phantom.

"I'll kill her painfully for this, but you abomination it will be swift." Damian has balanced on his toes, ready for a quick burst of speed. His sword now clenched so tightly in his hands it almost shakes.

An abomination the words looped through Danny's mind. The wounded sob that came forth when he opened his mouth to reply was unexpected. Danny took halting steps back from his twin. The hitching breath brought his attention back to his chest. This wasn't how Danny had pictured this moment, all those years of stolen daydreams. His core felt wrong in his chest. He felt cold, cold and brittle but his chest was on fire-and wet. The surgical cut seeping like its minutes fresh, this was by far Danny’s worst idea, to believe to ever hope, his brother would ever keep a monster by his side Danny was a fool to hope even for a moment-hands hands reaching for him to bring him back, grabbing his arm-

“No! I don't know! No please” Danny gasps as he flails weakly “I’m sorry I’m sorry!”

Damian hesitates again, before his resolve firms, "Danyal-" His name cracks over his brother's tongue. Danny isn't aware enough to unpack the way his brother's face twists in heartbreak the longer he watches Danny bleed. A warm body comes up behind him, blocking him in, he’s crying now, a weakness that he never could smother. "No!" Danny avoids his gaze scrambling to grip onto whatever fabric is in his hands. Danny wants the moment to last but he knows what’s coming. Damian won’t protect him now. His older brother had been steadfast by his side in their childhood, but now… now maybe it was better he’s bleeding out.

Danny vaguely registered the man behind him cutting off his shirt, kit at the ready besides him. Pressure on his wound forces a long high whine from his throat. He wants to shove it away, his hand swatting at it but he missed, and it thuds uselessly on the ground. He doesn't have the energy to try again.

The shock of a hot hand against his face brings everything into abrupt focus. Danny flinches but can’t move, the body unyielding behind him. He sees the room is covered in his frost and ice. Batman and Red Robin are farther back, their feet trapped in the ghostly ice, they had things in hand to try and hack away at the ice trapping them in place.

“Danyal” The pain in his twin's voice has him turning in that direction; his brother was there. For how well they could read each other in childhood Danny had no clue what his brother was thinking now. His twice dead brother, back to only die again at his feet. “Are you destabilizing? Why were you sent here? What does Mother want?”

“What?” Danny can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, even if it hurts, it seems his ice kept his organs in place while he tumbled through his hastily made portal. He must've lost consciousness at some point though; his ice seems to have melted to leaving him fully exposed. “That bitch- She has nothing to do with this- wait. You think-” Danny laughs even harder until he can’t breathe and he’s hacking and spitting up more ectoplasm. He’s pulled more fully against the warm body behind him, his head lulls-oh it’s Nightwing, the blatant concern radiating from the man stings Danny’s eyes and a few tears scatter down his face.

“I’m not a clone Dami, I didn’t even know you weren’t with the League anymore." Danny's speech slurs more the harder he tries to piece sentences together, "I'm sorry I don't know how I ended up here.” Danny is growing quieter the longer he talks- can feel his life draining onto the floor and there’s panic in the air now, Batman had sprung up next to Damian's side. Seemed to say something to Damian before he retreated slightly. Batman was hovering ready to interfere but unsure in what actions needed to take place.

Damian is staring at him intently, looking to match his scars to the one's he remembers. He taps his fingers insistently on Danny's cheek and Danny doesn't fight looking back at him. The fingers linger against the scar hidden behind his hair next to his ear, traces the edges. Damian was the one to give it to him, a training error. He had looked at Danny similarly to how he was now. Fear, regret, panic. Words are being said, they blend together, warp, so Danny just hums in response. Everything is more distant now. Danny's own fear floating out of reach. He knows death intimately, he's not afraid to greet her a third time.

The words became frantic as he struggles to stay awake, and someone was talking again. “-ood to see you though- no tss okay no pain.. mma be cold soon-" Oh. That's Danny. The face he has ached to see for years fills his vision. The shade of green he could never replace. Danny was picked up and hustled out a door into the by Nightwing while a harsh discussion flew over his head. They were in some sort of vehicle now, the door shutting causes silence to blanket the group. His head is in Damian's lap, and it takes a second, but Danny realizes Damian is carting his fingers through his greasy hair. His other hand was holding Danny's, playing with his fingers like he did as children. Danny's vision fills with tears and spills down his face.

"Danyal? Can you hear me?" Damian calls his attention softly, his sweet, sweet brother tries to keep the concern out of his voice, off his face. Once he sees Danny focus on him a trembling smile makes its home on Damian's face. His domino mask is gone, Danny drinks in the unobscured view of his brother. "We'll be back to the Cave shortly, Alfred will attend to you, then you're going to tell me exactly how this happened so I can make sure it never does again." Danny can tell Damian is scared, the minute tremble in his petting only confirmed it. Danny let a smile tug at his lips too, "It's gonna be okay Dami" Danny slurred, he hears Damian insisting they were almost home.

Home with Damian. That was a fool's dream, just out of reach. Danny never indulged in the idea; he wouldn't put Dami in danger by reappearing. But- Danny was with him now, a twitch of his fingers against Damian's proves it. Danny went limp as the Batmobile skidded into the Cave, Damian was a silent statue watching Alfred take his brother away from him. Batman saddled up next to him- Damian should shower and change, whatever it was that changed his brother was making his skin itch- but he couldn't move. His baby brother was in there, dying, again.

"Damian, chum... what was all that?" Damian ignores his eyes itching as tears built, he clears his throat to report- reporting was vital with their nighttime activities, Father needed information to help Danny. He couldn't take his eyes of the little glowing red 'In Use' sign above the surgery door though.

Damian cuts a glance at the man next to him, more Bat than Father at the moment. "Once Danyal is stable, I will give you an explanation Father."

~~~~

I thought of a name, added it to the tags, I'll add a link to the next post if I write one, will tag future posts with 'Keeping It Close To The Chest' as well

much love

~Ren

[cherry-pop-elf]

hello! 🌷 is it okay to request weasley twins x hufflepuff reader that was tortured by umbridge, but didn't give away the prank / bad thing that the twins did? out of loyalty for them

maybe comfort too, since they're thankful to reader and also feel guilty for what umbridge done to her. could be pre-dating or already dating them !!

have a lovely day 🎀

As a Hufflepuff who would have 100% been forced to not use their wheelchair because Umbridge would think I was faking my disability for attention, yeah we gonna get some Whump in this shit. ((Lowkey having some rough shit going on mentally so some vent fic like this will be hella. Thanks anon! Perfect timing!

—————————————————

Honey Wounds

Warning: Violence, Umbridge in general, blood, torture, whump, hurt/comfort 🎆🐝🎇

“Where’s little bumble bee-?” The twins would worry, as they had wondered why you didn’t show up to the secret little defense class Harry started up. Where could their little Hufflepuff be? Had them a little worried. By little, it was a lot. Things have been getting a lot more tense recently. Umbridge was really hammering down, and she was making her mission to find a way to get those two into Azkaban. By any means possible. The only reason she hasn’t was probably because of Percy somehow. As they worried, someone was quick to grab them.

“Fred, George, something bad happened. Something really bad happened-!” The first year was crying, and the duo were on red alert now. The poor kid was in to many tears to really speak, so they figured there was no need to. George was quick to pick the first year up, as the child was just pointing. Fred was in the running lead, as George was trying to comfort the child. The poor kid was hiccuping, and seeming so scared. Something bad happened, and they had to figure out what it was. That’s when they saw it. Blood on the barrels, like someone was slapping bloody hand’s desperately to get into the Hufflepuff dorm.

“Shit shit shit, what did she do now-?” Fred hissed, as he tried to focus on entering the dorm. Having to get literal blood on his hands, in order to get inside. With the pattern played, the duo were able to run inside. Left to see the Hufflepuff dorm full of noise. So many students all busy and around someone. When Hannah Abbott noticed the twins, she stepped away. Pulling away fellow students, and the horror was on display.

“Fred, George…..?” It was you, and you were not looking hot. Not looking hot at all. You were horribly pale, and your hands looked as if they had been through a chopping block. The fellow Puff’s had done their best to try and help, but it was like they wouldn’t stop bleeding. George had instantly covered the first years eyes, despite the fact the child had long seen it. It was just habit after all.

“WHAT HAPPENED-?!” Fred was soon by your side, while George was quick to hand the child off to someone. Now he was on your other side. You were just to tired to really process it all, given the blood loss. If it wasn’t for their brilliant hair, you would have assumed it was just more worried Hufflepuff’s. Just trying so hard to help. It’s rather scary. Sure, it’s Hogwarts. Things get violent, but this wasn’t just a random accident. Nor some run in with a beast. This was a woman who wanted to hurt.

“I didn’t tell her. I didn’t tell her-“ You managed to say, with a smile. The twins looked at each other, wondering what you were blabbering about, before they were quick to take over. The Puff’s made sure to stay out of their way, as the twins were able to move in ever perfect unison. Not needing to speak, to move. Fred was quick to start emptying their bags, as George was taking care in trying to wash the wounds on your hands.

“I know it’s in here, come on out you bastard-“ Fred hissed, as he sorted through the assortment of old tins they had collected. Each with its own experiment, as George tried to not freak out. Seeing you hurt like this. It was making him feel so many emotions. Anger at Umbridge, fear for what that woman will do next, sadness for your pain, anxiety on it Ron and Ginny would be next. It was all so loud in his eyes, as he tried not to let the tears spill.

“Found it-!” Fred sighed, as he was quick to start lathering a strange substance on your hands. It felt rather strange. As if he was lathering your open wounds with pudding. You expected it to hurt, but it was rather nice. Very cooling to your burning wounds. It would soon seem to harden on your fingers and palms. As if stopping you from bleeding, and absorbing the blood. Forcing it to stay inside. If you weren’t so dizzy, you would praise them for being so smart.

“Bumble Bee….What happened?” Fred asked, as George was busy with someone. Quick to get some water from one of the prefects, and try and nurse it into your body. George was gentle, and you needed it. You choked on it, but he knew you had to drink some. You lost alot of blood, and you had to stay hydrated. He would keep your head against his chest, as you managed to get some down. Enough to satisfy him, and calm his nerves. You could feel how sweaty his hands were, with worry, as he stroked your hair. With a few minutes to breath, you spoke.

“She brought me to her office. Asked me who had broken in it last night. I said I didn’t know. She didn’t like that, but I didn’t give up.” You smiled, as the twins were staring in horror. They broke into her office, last night. They swore they didn’t leave behind a trace. They had to break in. She confiscated Ginny’s bracelet. Said she fiddled with it too much. It was made just for her, by Bill. Ever since the incident in the chamber of secrets, she was more susceptible to dark magic. So, a Curse breaker made her something to help. Umbridge was actively putting her in danger. How could they not protect their little sister?

“It was a trap…..She did that on purpose-“ Fred realized, as it made sense. Of course they would break in to get it back. That horrid woman. “Can’t believe she dragged you into this. I mean, I can, but you get the point I’m making here! We’re so sorry Honey Bee-“ George would soon echo, as he kissed your head. Feeling so guilty. You didn’t blame them, of course, but they sure didn’t stop feeling guilty.

“It’s ok. Im ok. Ginny needed it. Like I would ever rat you two out.” You tried to reassure them, but their minds were made up. They had to do something about Umbridge. This woman was going insane. The twins swore she wasn’t aware that you three were in a relationship of sorts. They were magical twins. Not fair to compare them to muggle ones. They shared a partner, no big deal. Communication makes the dream work. Seems like maybe you three communicated in the wrong hallway one to many times, and she put two and two together.

“We are going to fix this. We promise.” The twins spoke, as they comforted you. George with keeping your head to his chest, as Fred was between your legs. Hugging your stomach, and nuzzling into your thigh. Just needing to hold onto you. As if you would disintegrate into his hands then and there. You would have comforted him, but it didn’t seem like your hands wanted to exist at the moment.

“Looks like we can’t wait for that down payment any longer. Now or never.” George said, as Fred gave a defeated sigh. He was right. If they stayed at Hogwarts any longer, Merlin knows who else she will drag into their mess. George was right, it was now or never. Because never means they’ll be in Azkaban for murdering her at this point.

“Say, Bumble bee….Think you can handle living in a rundown hollowed building for a while?” Fred asked, as you tried to focus your eyes. You didn’t really understand half of what they were saying, but you knew this. Wherever they went, you would follow. “What makes it any different from a dungeon?” You tried to joke, and that seemed to solidify the deal. Look out world, the Weasley Twins were about to show off their latest invention.

The WhizBang

[accidentalcookies]

i am a big fan of the immortal whumpee trope, especially the 'can be killed but will resurrect' variety, to the point where nearly every single one of my ocs that i tend to whump have it

it's got everything! painful and fatal injuries! other characters reacting in horror and grief! the classic 'holds someone as they die' angst! and depending on the whumpee in question, varying reactions from fear to 'no big deal, i'l revive'!

but before today, i had always written quick deaths—deaths from terrible, quickly unsurvivable injuries that cause massive blood loss or asphyxiation or things along those lines. slow enough that they can get some reaction in and suffer for a bit, but ultimately ends within the hour.

and then today i started writing, and suddenly went, 'wait. what about a slow death? a painful and drawn-out death by inches, where the whumpee suffers every inch of the way, and the caretaker can't do anything but try to ease their pain?'

and guys, holy shit, it's a really good trope you guys

[wickjump]

y’all are so lucky my drafts stay drafts

[sarahsmi13s]

Last in the Flock

whumptober day 8: panic attack

pairing: bradley bradshaw x twin sister!reader

characters: bradley bradshaw, duckie bradshaw, carole bradshaw

warnings: panic attack, car accident, fear of being alone, mentions of death, canon deaths, cancer diagnosis, please tell me if i missed any

word count: ~1.6k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

this is also apart of my series duckie so the tag list for that is included! of course if you can't handle the content and you chose to not read, perfectly fine!!

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: in the wake of carole's diagnosis, bradley gets into an accident, duckie's thoughts run wild and take over

You were in school when you got the call.

Bradley had gotten into an accident on his way to school. He didn’t have a first or second period so he didn’t come to school with you and just came fifteen minutes before his first class started.

Your mother had called you as you went to lunch, crying as she told you your brother was unconscious because he was in a car accident. Thankfully, it was a T-bone on the passenger side, but someone else hadn’t been paying attention and hit Bradley head on. But the doctors said that he should pull through and be just fine.

It didn’t stop the absolute dread that had been sitting on your stomach since you heard your mother sobbing. You went straight to the office with your mother on the phone to tell them that you were going by your remaining classes, collecting your work and leaving. 

The secretary didn’t even question it, seeing the very real tears on your face, and said she would send everyone a heads up.

You had taken your motorcycle to school that morning and you were nearly terrified to get on it. But you decided that you would drive home and get your car, not that you were a hundred percent safe in your car but it was better than being completely exposed on your bike.

You couldn’t risk it.

Later that day, after a check up, Bradley was cleared to go home. And he was ordered to rest the whole weekend and could take half the week off from school, but he was gonna be just fine.

You and Carole made sure he rested and doted on him the whole weekend.

And then the school week started, and you didn’t want to leave the house.

You justified it to your mom and yourself that it was because she needed her rest, Bradley’s insistence on that sentiment helped your side of the argument. She was insisting it was her job and you were insisting that she deserved to be taken care of as well.

But there was another feeling. A feeling you couldn’t quite place, but you knew you didn’t like it.

“Yeah, but hey you guys have fun though! I’ll be there next time. Thank you for understanding,” you smiled as you talked to your friend Ellie.

You had made plans to go out with her and a few of your other friends today after school but when they noticed you weren’t in first period, Ellie decided to call you during lunch.

“You can go out, you know, Duckie,” Bradley said from the couch. “I’m not dying, I can-”

“You could have died though! Do you know how close you were to dying and leaving me alone!?”

Bradley bruised eyes widened at your outburst. 

You were never the loud one. You weren’t the type to lash out. You were more like your dad in that way, not the type to yell unless it was needed. So to hear you shout out of the blue like that was concerning. 

“Duckie…”

You shook your head and stood up, “I’m gonna make lunch, sandwich okay?” Bradley just nodded and watched you rush into the kitchen.

When you got there you braced yourself on the sink with one hand as your other came up to your chest as it began to ache and your hand trembled violently. You couldn’t get air into your lungs, it stopped just before filling your lungs, and your legs seemed to stop working. A heat rushed up your body; your feet became too hot in your socks and a cold sweat ran down your back.

It was like you were frozen. The ringing in your ears did not help the nausea as your stomach churned. 

Your dad is dead. Your mom is dying. Your twin can die at any time. Then you would be all alone. Sad, lonely little Duckie… the last in the flock. Poor thing.

A sob forced its way out of your body, wracking your chest with force as your legs shook and you lowered yourself to the ground. 

Your hand on your chest tapped against your breast bone with no rhythm as you lost control of your thoughts and your breathing. You felt numb, like your nerve endings were on fire – the cool metal of the dishwasher had no effect on you.

“Duckie? Duckie, hey, what’s wrong?” 

Bradley had gotten off the couch and came over to you the moment he heard you sob.

He didn’t know what he thought he would see but it wasn’t his twin sister struggling to breath on the floor.

“Hey, Y/N! Y/N! Hey what’s-”

Bradley grabbed you by the shoulders, hoping to get your attention but all you did was sob and push him away. He hit the island with a pained grunt as he looked at you confused.

He realized that you were mumbling something to yourself through your sobs. 

“Alone… Alone… They’re all dead, I’m gonna be alone…” 

Then you were sucking in strangled breaths and sobbing them out, coughing hard as you gripped at your shirt. “It’s hot, too hot… Can’t breathe.. Can’t-” You cut yourself of with a sob.

Bradley sat there in shock, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go get your mom, she was out with Sarah Kazansky and he didn’t want to bother them. He couldn’t call Maverick because he wasn’t in the position to come help. But there was one number he could call.

Quickly he pulled out his phone, dialing the three digits. 

“9-1-1 what is your emergency?”

“I think my sister is having a panic attack.” 

“Okay, are you with her right now or can you hear her in the other room?” 

“I’m in front of her, we’re in the kitchen on the floor… I-I don’t know what to do, what do I do?” 

“What’s your name?”

“Bradley, my sister’s name is Y/N.”

“I’m Hannah, I’m gonna help you both through this okay? Just follow my instructions to the best of your abilities, can you do that?”

Bradley nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see him, “Y-yes I-I can do that.” 

“Alright, what I want you to do first is put me on speaker okay?” 

He put her on speaker and sat his phone down, “Okay, I did it.”

Hannah proceeded to walk him through calming you down. 

First, Bradley had to let you know that he was there and that he was there to help. He calmly got your attention on him, hating that your eyes looked over his wounds rather than in his eyes. “Duckie, hey, look in my eyes, I’m here I’m right here.”

Then he had to distract you. He asked you to hold your arms up, touch his fingertips with yours above your head. This not only helped you to focus on something but it helped to expand your chest to allow more air in.

“Good job Duckie, you’re doing so good.”

Last he was to help you slow your breathing down. He tried counting down from ten, but that didn’t work so he then tried twenty but that didn’t work either.

“Hannah what do I do?”

“Ask her what she needs you to do.”

He nodded and found your eyes, “Hey, Y/N, tell me what you need.” He waited a beat before speaking again. “What do I need to do?”

“H-Heart… heart beat,” you said, patting your own chest.

Bradley nodded and gently took your hand, putting it to his chest.

“Can you feel that? I’m okay, and you’re okay. We’re safe.”

He watched you nod and your breathing started to even out. “Good job Duckie, I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so good.” 

“Bradley, the paramedics are there. Can you let them in?”

“Yeah I can-” He moved to get up but your fist balled in his shirt and you shook your head, “No… please…”

“Hannah, tell them there is a key under the mat. I can’t leave her.” 

“I can do that.”

A few seconds later paramedics arrived in the kitchen as Bradley pulled you into his lap. He held you close and kissed the side of your head. “It’s okay, I got you. I got ya.” 

The medics checked your vitals and got you a little oxygen to help you breathe better.

“Okay, Y/N, you’re gonna be really drained the rest of the day, take it easy alright?”

You could only manage a nod and Bradley rubbed your back.

The medics and Bradley shared a nod as the medics left. 

He sat there with you until you were ready to get up. He didn’t speak other than gentle reassurances and praises.

“Bradley…”

You broke the silence about fifteen minutes later, your voice still shaky and a little raspy. 

He hummed, “What’s up Duckie? What happened?” You sniffled, “I think it was just Mom’s diagnosis… your accident… Dad… it was all just a lot. I was scared… Scared of being alone… being the last one…”

Bradley rubbed your arm, “Oh Duckie…” “I know I know it’s-” “It’s not stupid, your fear is valid. I hope it’s a comfort to know that I’m not leaving you with a fight,” he said, kissing your temple. “Nothing can take me away from my baby sister.”

You snorted, “You’re only twelve minutes older.” “Still older.” 

Rolling your eyes you sat up a little, “Can we go lay down? The floor is uncomfy.” He nodded and you both got up before going to lay down on the couch. “I love you, BradBrad.”

He chuckled and gently rubbed your side, “I love you too, Duckie.”

taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mayhemmanaged @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233

my ducklings <33: @roosterscockpit @milesdickpic @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hisredheadedgoddess28 @malindacath @avengers-fixation @shawnsblue @caitsymichelle13 @classycolorpeach @mayhemmanaged @startrekfangirl2233 @bobby-r2d2-floyd @twsssmlmaa​ @horseshoegirl​ @babyreads​ @amatswimming @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @cassiemitchell​ @callsignwidow @kmc1989​   @goodstuff28​ @pjngpp3501​ @lunamoonbby​ @joyfulpandamiracle​ @craftyinfluencersandwich @averyhotchner​ @emily-roberts​ @teenwolf01 @sunderland-6​ @bethabear12​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @dempy​ @djs8891​ @ingoaliesitrust @novavida​ @tigerfan24 @lynnestra44​​ @lilmonstrjedi

hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

[pixelatedraindrops]

color version of the chibi makoyuma doodles from my birthday challenge post

poor lil things don't feel well ≧ ﹏ ≦

(like they ever do with me lmao)

[truths33k3r4]

CHAPTER 27 - Specter

“ How long does it take for a security cam’s battery to die? “ Raph whispered to his brother as if the camera itself was trying to listen in on their conversation. 

Maybe it was.

“ Six months give or take. Therefore the camera shouldn’t be our focus right now. “ Don whispered back, motioning his head to the box of tools on the bench. He tried to move his feet, gauging how far he would need to stretch in order to reach the tools. Unfortunately the metallic ring of chains sounded harshly in his ears, as his movements were halted by their iron grip on his ankles. 

Ok.. that won’t work.

As Don ran simulations in his brain like a living calculator, Raph was attempting to escape with his own plan: PULL. REALLY. HARD. Don felt his brother’s shell twist and yank accompanied by the sounds of the chains being pulled taut. Raph let out a frustrated growl as his efforts proved to be in vain; No matter how much he yanked or tensed, the metal cuffs remained cemented to his wrists. 

Ok, cross brute force off the list.

Don tried to search for more options.

 Perhaps there’s a stray nail or screw on the floor. I could try picking my cuffs’ lock..

 He winced his eyes forcing his sight to clear as much as it could, peering down to the cold ground below. He targeted his gaze on anything that reflected light. Normally most screws and nails are made of galvanized steel, which is somewhat of a reflective metal. Therefore the thin rays of light peeking through the windows of their cell would cause those particular metals to faintly glow. Unfortunately, after a minute or so of staring at the pixelated ground, and not seeing any reflections of steel, Don gave up on that plan. 

Raph continued to struggle despite the obvious. His fists clenched tighter and tighter as he continued to pull. His shoulders rose with each tug and yank. His movements began as concentrated and calculated, but now they were unpredictable and panicked.

Don leaned back and rested the back of his head on his brother’s.

“ Ochitsuke, Raph. “ he whispered.

The horrible taunts of the ringing chains finally ceased as Raph nodded and dropped his arms to his sides.

“.. Don, I don’t.. I don’t know what to do.. How the shell are we going to get out of here? “ 

Don hated how his older brother’s voice teetered with insecurity. It didn’t help that he, too, was at a loss for words.. And PLANS apparently.

“ It’s fine.. As long as we are alive our brains can function. And as long as our brains can function, then we’ll think of a solution. “

Please believe me.

Don could feel his brother’s soft nod to his words as Raph let out a stress-filled sigh. 

You’re the smart one. Think, Interi. THINK.

If Don could, he would be slamming his forehead into his palm, trying to force ideas into his less-than-efficient-under-stress brain. When given time to think things through, he would normally have an answer to a difficult problem rather quickly. But when stress and a time crunch are involved, his brain betrays him, leaving him scrambling to remember the simplest of knowledge. It was pathetic.

Don and Raph both yanked their heads up harshly at the sound of a door opening nearby. Thankfully, without Don’s vision being at full capacity, his hearing sensitivity heightened to make up for it. 

Yay. I can at least HEAR the psycho who’s gonna kill me.

Now he could hear the haunting sound of those same heavy-duty boots coming closer and closer.

Don turned his face to Raph and whispered, “ NOT. A. WORD. “

A broad- shouldered man with rounded glasses and a tar-like coat entered quietly into Don and Raph’s cell carrying a briefcase. The light of the hallway behind him created a distorted silhouette bordering his form, making Don wince from the brightness. Both his and his brother’s body straightened like warriors preparing for battle. 

The Man politely closed the door, closely followed by a subtle click of the lock behind him as he walked up to his captives. With the light of the hallway now closed off, shadows consumed the Man’s form as he strolled closer to the brothers. The slim rays weaseling through the windows reflected in his glasses, masking the Man’s eyes in a bright white. He pulled out a small stool hidden behind the bench, and calmly sat down, placing his briefcase at his side.

“ You must have many questions as to why my team apprehended you. After all, normally in this fair city, the street scraps are left to fend for themselves. Picked off.. one by one.. by the many gangs wandering the alleys. “ 

The Man began caressing his briefcase with long, bony fingers.

“.. So, what, you may ask yourselves, makes you.. so .. special? What gives you the opportunity to be in the presence of ones with such intelligence, such as myself? “

Don and Raph gave an unamused glance to each other. Both had a whole lineup of insults to throw at this narcissist, but their mouths remained shut. 

The Man stands up with a thin growing smile and walks over to Don, covering the mutant in his towering shadow. Raph allowed a single low growl to escape his lips instead of the slew of crude nicknames piling up one by one in his head. 

“ Oh come now, I won’t harm you..

.. yet. “

In one terrifyingly quick motion, the Man shot out his hand, gripping Don’s face with his skeleton-like fingers. Raph’s growl grew louder. 

Don watched in silent horror as his face was studied by his captor like an organism under a microscope, lifting his chin painfully to scan over every corner and crevice. The chill of the Man’s fingers sent an involuntary shiver down his spine, like an evil spirit had phased through his body. 

“ With such specimens as yourselves, it would be quite foolish to take you apart in a dusty garage without my.. tools. No, no, the real fun will begin once I take you to my laboratory. “

Don didn’t like the sound of that one bit. And judging by the ferocious crescendoing snarl of his brother, Raph felt the same. 

The Man let go of Don’s face and eerily shifted towards Raph. The red-clad brother replaced his snarls with a glare so concentrated it would make milk curdle.

I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

“ Oooh, “ the Man taunted, pointing at the furious mutant, “ did I make the red one angry? “

Raph targeted all the rage and intimidation he could salvage into his piercing glare. Despite his attempts, the Man continued on as if nothing happened.

“ Well, going by your pitiful attempt at intimidating me, I will assume this must be someone you care about.” The Man gestured to Don, “ Perhaps your brother based on the ridiculous matching masks? ..Am I close? “

Raph and Don kept their mouths in a thin but planted line.

“ Hmm, “ the Man shrugged, “ Alright, not very talkative. Very well. “

The Man proceeded to return to his stool retrieving his briefcase, and placing it on his lap. With a few button clicks, it opened with a slight hiss, releasing a puff of cold air.

Don ran through all possibilities in his brain of items that would need to be kept in air tight containers and under cold temperatures.

..Sedatives..

Judging by the growing smile creeping up the Man’s face, Don knew he was right. 

WE HAVE TO ACT NOW.

Now it was Don’s turn to begin pulling and yanking on his chains. He knew it wouldn’t do anything. He KNEW. But despite the logic trying to take control of his brain, his panicked heart remained in control.

The Man rose up off his stool and began walking towards Don. The purple clad turtle’s vision morphed the Man’s form into that of a faceless specter, slowly wrapping his towering shadow over the mutant’s body. The panicked sounds of pulled chains became louder, melding with the calculated footsteps drawing closer and closer.

WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE NOW!!

For the second time today, a gun was held to Don’s head. 

“ This is just something to help you sleep.. Nothing more than a concentrated sedative, so no need to panic. “ The Man’s words whispered compassion, but his voice screeched with threat. 

Don’s heart began to pummel at his chest as the gun-like contraption the Man was holding was pointed at the mutant’s thigh. 

NO! 

With a pull of the trigger, Don felt a horrible sting spread throughout his leg. The needle in the device penetrated his skin almost like his epipen back at home. But unlike his medication, the solution being forced into his body was unknown. That fear alone made the sting hurt so much worse. He hated himself for allowing the man to see him flinch under the discomfort.

As for Raph..

.. The word ‘ hate ’ wouldn’t even begin to explain the fury raging through his brother’s body. Raph was now baring his fangs in all their sharp glory, as the Man pulled away the device , leaving a small dot of blood on Don’s leg. 

The freckled brother subtly began to sway, feeling whatever drugs running through his bloodstream beginning to activate. His head began to ring with a high pitched hum as it was becoming more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. 

STAY AWAKE. DON’T GO TO SLEEP. STAY AWAKE.

The Man walked up to Raph as he waved the device tauntingly at the slowly-growing-feral mutant. Raph had given him plenty of warnings. And there’s always a point with Don’s fiery brother when his patience snaps like a thin twig under the crackles of a flame. 

This is that point.

As the Man began positioning the device to Raph’s thigh, the flame consuming the mutant’s protective heart burst as he lunged his knee up, making the man’s hand jolt upward.

Right in front of Raph’s mouth.

With a harsh *SCRUNCH* Raph's fangs plunged deep into the Man’s hand that was holding the device. For once, their captor actually reacted, giving an annoyed grunt as he jolted from the pain burning his hand where Raph’s fangs remained planted. But despite the discomfort of the angry mutant’s teeth, the Man continued to stand tall, pushing aside Raph’s attack as a minor inconvenience.

“ Aww. It thinks it can escape. Well, what’s your plan then, mutant? Hold me down as your brother here goes for the keys that I don’t have? How much of a fool do you think I am? “

Despite the Man’s hand still being wedged into Raph’s teeth, the mutant began to smile menacingly.

“ Wrong answer, freak. “

Just like with Don, the man moved with quick and precise movements, trading off the device from the hand in Raph’s mouth to his other. He pulled the trigger. Raph was given more reason to bite down harder as the sharp sting penetrated his leg. 

The Man removed the device from Raph’s thigh and threw it to the side, and then reached deep into his black, robe-like coat. He pulled out what was definitely an actual gun, pointing it at Don’s head.

“ This will cause far more harm than the injector, I assure you. “ The Man’s voice didn’t waver the slightest, staying calm and to the point, as Raph’s bite continued to sink deeper. 

“ Now. Drop it, boy. Drop it like a good little dog. “

Raphael’s shoulders rose in hostility as his brain ran through the situation.

Does he WANT his hand to get bitten off??? 

With another growl, and a slight gag, Raphael released the Man’s bony fingers from his mouth. Don hazily watched as his brother proceeded to spit the Man’s own blood into his face. 

Everything was becoming so slow.. The Man’s form continued to alter and blur as Don’s vision slowly faded into darkness.

NO. NOT NOW! WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!! STAY AWAKE!!

Don didn’t even realize his eyes were closed now. His body slowly slumped against his will. The ghostly voice of the Man began to echo in his brain as he fought with all his might to keep his eyes open. He could feel Raph’s body beginning to fade too..

STAY AWAKE!!!!!!!

Don continued to fight against the sedative as best he could, trying to keep his body constantly in motion. He yanked at his chains and turned his head to keep an eye on his fading brother, who was trying to do the same. But as the minutes ticked by, their movements grew more sluggish; their heads slowly lowered with their eyelids.

Stay……awakeee…

“ That’s it. Go to sleep. Dream of your family. Your friends, if you have any. Relive all those wonderful memories.. “ The Man whispered into Don’s ear as he finally lost his fight with the consuming shadows, 

“.. For when you wake,

 your true nightmare will begin. “

That's it for this chapter. :) MAN ALIVE- I have been EXCITED to show you guys this one!! This is the first time I've written for a chapter with the physical appearance of a villain.. And I think, ( and hope ) that you were left with a sense of dread for poor Don and Raph.. And- yeah, you'll be feeling that for a while with the chapters I have planned. ;)

To God be the glory!

~ Melissa

MASTERPOST <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[artemisjpotter]

4.7 SPOILERS

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I am so mad we were robbed of seeing Dainsleif get the shit beaten out of him by the Abyss twin. I need the whump, and you failed to delivered 😭 😭 😭

[qoldenskies]

hiii reluctantly making a sideblog for rise stuff until the brainrot dies down ... peep the donnie angst. it is 37k words long and only two chapters and i speedran it in like a week because i was Erm ... excited. somehow it came out quality.