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fallenwhumpee · 12 days

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Super boop back to you :) Please have part two <3

Promise

• Part 1 • Part 2 • Masterlist •

Warnings: Nightmares, blood.

For once, Healer was free to do as they wished after a battle. There were no injured from their team, nearly no one to bury, and only a few of the villagers hurt mildly that was taken care of by the other healers on the field.

But somehow, they couldn't enjoy the celebration.

Sighing at the campfire warming their face, they wished they hadn't felt this way. They had won, with almost no casuality under some finest generals of their kingdom, but it felt off. Healer was missing something very important.

Standing up slowly, they began wandering in the crowd, checking everyone. Their focus was mostly on their own team, though. Just as Leader promised, all of them were in good shape. And some in good mood enough to join the small chorus that was beginning to form.

Healer wasn't one to stay spectator to those. Before, they would be running to celebrate the victory after patching up the last soldier, but that day, they felt like a stranger to the fun. They were sure this wasn't what Leader felt while—

Oh. Perhaps what bothered them was the fact that Leader didn't come and watch the others with their usual subtle but proud smile. Healer was too used to those hidden glances that they were now feeling the absence of it.

Healer couldn't understand what held Leader back this time. This was probably one of their best battles in their career, something to be celebrated at least until the sunrise.

Despite the growing unease inside them, they didn't visit Leader again. The celebrations calmed down, loud cheers turned to silent chatter until Healer felt the need to check up on Leader.

Quickly but silently, Healer marched to Leader's tent. There was a very dim light flickering. It made Healer hesitate. They would hate to disturb Leader's sleep, but shadows were moving inside.

Peeking their head in, Healer was greeted with the sight of Leader tossing and turning, eyes closed. A piece of parchment was on top of the shield in the cormer, a foreign face halfly drawn on it.

Healer looked back to Leader again. They were frowning and muttering in their sleep, body tense. It looked like Leader was having a dream— a nightmare.

"Leader?" Healer called. They didn't want to startle Leader, simply to connect them back to reality. They stepped further into the tent but then swore with a loud clank. Their leg knocked over the neatly stacked armour.

Leader woke up with a jolt, reaching to their sword before meeting with Healer's guilty gaze, the sudden deep and raging breaths filling the silence. Healer didn't move from their place not to trigger any furter response. They simply took in Leader's unusual messy appearance, from hair to the environment. Then, Leader relaxed their grip on the swords hilt slowly. Healer hadn't even noticed that.

Healer turned the valve of the gas lamp, revealing the messy scene before them even more clearly. Leader slowly gathered their breaths and composure, sitting up properly.

More than the unusual sight, a string of blood on Leader's slightly exposed shoulder shook Healer.

"Sorry," Leader began as they wiped their face. "Must've fallen asleep. Is there something wrong?"

Healer stared for a moment. Healer was an idiot. But not as much as Leader. "Yes. Yes, something is wrong. Show me your shoulder. Now."

"There's nothing to show. Healer, go get some rest." Leader almost hissed.

"I'm not leaving until I see that shoulder," Healer insisted, their voice firm. They stood with arms crossed and didn't talk for a while.

Reluctantly, Leader yielded, lowering their guard with a sigh. Healer quickly knelt next to them, carefully removing the bloodsoaked bandages.

The wound was deeper than Healer had anticipated, and they couldn't suppress a gasp of concern at the sight, the wound flesh and still oozing blood despite looking like it had been a while. While the cut was clean, edges of the wound were irritated by the fabric— was that cloth fabric? What was Leader thinking?

"This needs proper treatment," Healer murmured, their fingers tracing the edges of the injury with gentle precision. "You're lucky you didn't aggravate it further."

Leader remained silent, their gaze fixed on the ground as Healer checked it again before leaving to get some supplies. Leader's behaviour was... odd. Concerning.

"Sorry," Leader breathed out before Healer went out, their voice softer this time. "I didn't mean to snap. It's... It's been a long day.".

Healer only nodded before rushing to their own tent. They quickly grabbed some herbs and bandages. Much to their relief, Leader hadn't moved while Healer was away. They offered a willow bark for Leader to chew on, which Leader refused with a small thanks. Healer sighed before warning Leader and using a damp cloth to clean the wound. They were sure it was painful, but Leader remained silent.

"I didn't know you could draw so well," Healer tried. They didn't want the atmosphere to be so tense. "And your figure looks gorgeous. I'd like to meet them if they're single."

For a second, Healer thought they had seen tears in Leader's eyes, but when Leader stared into their soul flatly, there was only an empty look. "You can't meet them," Leader simply said, closing the topic.

Healer had a feeling all of their attempts to make a small talk was destined to end up like that. Lost in thoughts, they forgot to warn Leader as they wrapped the first set of bandages soaked in Healer's own secret formula. They shrugged apologetically at Leader's wince, continuing their work once Leader nodded them.

"You two would be unbearable together if they were alive." Leader muttered in a fond voice, too low to hear if there was any other sound than shift of the fabric.

Healer's blood froze, their hands faltering momentarily before resuming their task. They tried to ignore the comment that wasn't for them to hear, so they changed the topic.

"You didn't break your promise if you didn't come to me because of that. Technically, no one visited me." They mumbled as they took clean bandages.

Leader remained silent for a moment, their gaze fixed on Healer's hand working on their shoulder. Finally, Leader sighed, their shoulders slumping with resignation.

"It's not about the promise," they admitted, with emotions in their voice Healer couldn't dechiper.

"What is it then?" Healer asked gently, failing to mask the tone of genuine concern as they spoke. "You can talk to me, you know."

"I know," Leader replied flatly. "But old habits die hard, I suppose."

Again, an awkward silence took over. Healer could heal wounds, but healing souls? It was beyond them. So they just focused on wrapping the wound, not looking at Leader's face. It was a mistake that they would never forgive themselves for because when they raised their head back, they saw Leader looking at the drawing and... crying. Tears falling silently as Leader stood still.

The sight of their usually composed and authoritative figure crumbling before them was both unexpected and unsettling.

"Leader..." Healer's voice trailed off. They didn't know how to react to this.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, Leader took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped away their tears with the back of their hand. They straightened their posture, as if trying to regain control over their emotions.

"You should really go get some rest, Healer. We will leave tomorrow morning."

"But..." Healer started, trying to form an argument.

"I'll do the same. Thank you for your concern. Its... I appreciate it. Now, if you could just..."

Healer hesitated, torn between respecting Leader's request for privacy and their concern. But ultimately, they knew that leaving Leader alone with their thoughts was not an option.

"Leader," Healer began gently, "I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but you don't have to bear your burdens alone."

Leader's expression softened, a flicker of grief crossing their features before they masked it first with a smile but after with their usual stoicism. "Thank you, Healer," they said softly, their voice tinged with exhaustion. "It' selfishly, I know, but some burdens are only mine to bear."

Healer could only sigh as a response and leave after exchanging goodnights quietly.

#me: Leader deserves comfort #my brain: ANGST #sorry #whump #whump writing #leader whumpee #leader whump #mentioned character death #medieval settings

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suspensefulpen · 4 months

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Whumpcember Day 30: Delirium

TW: Sadistic Whumper, Mentioned Past Character Death

@whumpcember

Whumper watched as Whumpee fought to keep their eyes open. Whumpee had been acting differently lately and they wanted to be sure they weren’t just imagining things. It seemed as if they had hit their head hard enough to make them start acting this way. Well, they probably did. Whumper probably did make them hit their head hard enough to cause this change. Whumper hummed at thought, almost hiding their smile. Clearly, they were doing their job right.

“Caretaker…?” Whumpee suddenly spoke, squinting. They leaned forward and tightly gripped the blanket draped over them. Whumper frowned and turned to look where Whumpee was looking. No one was there. Whumper paused for a moment, realizing Caretaker couldn’t possibly have been there. Caretaker was dead. Whumper killed them. For a moment, even they forgot.

Wait, if Caretaker was dead, why did Whumpee think they were in the room? Whumpee had cried for days about Caretaker’s death. What made them think they were even alive?

“Why… Are you gonna leave me again?” Horror appeared on Whumpee’s face. They shook their head. “No, please, don’t go! I don’t want you to!”

Whumper watched Whumpee carefully. What was Caretaker doing? Was Caretaker talking to them? Were they walking around? Or were they just standing there? Could Whumpee even see Whumper?

Whumpee’s gaze slowly shifted over to Whumper. Tears filled their eyes. “Are you gonna hurt them?”

“Hurt who Whumpee?”

“Are you gonna hurt Caretaker? Please… I don’t want you to.” They shook their head slowly.

Whumper thought for a moment. Should they ask about what they’re seeing? Or should they wait and let Whumpee do the talking? Maybe they should ask why Whumpee asked the question. “Why do you think I’m going to hurt Caretaker?”

“Because I don’t want them to leave me. Please don’t let them leave me.” They shook their head again.

“You want me to tell them not to leave you?”

“Yes… I don’t want them to go.”

“Why do you think they’re going to leave you?”

“Because… I know you won’t let them stay. But I want them to stay and I want them to sit here. With me…forever.”

Whumper bit the inside of their cheek, attempting to hold in their laughter. It was honestly just pathetic how Whumpee was sitting here begging them to keep a dead person from leaving them. They now knew for a fact that Whumpee was sick with something. That was unless their emotional attachment to Caretaker was just that strong.

Whumper nodded. “Alright. I’ll let them stay.”

“Okay…” Whumpee stared at them for several moments before pointing up at the ceiling. “You see that bird?” Concerned, Whumper turned to look where Whumpee was pointing. They instantly whipped back around when they heard a soft thud. Whumpee fell asleep, lying awkwardly over the blanket. Whumper sighed and moved them to a more comfortable position, tucking them in.

“I guess we’ll continue this discussion later, Whumpee.”

#whumpcember2023 #whumpcember #whump #whump writing #angst #suspense #delirium #mentioned character death #character death #sadistic whumper #carewhumper #kind of #emotional whump #captivity #caretaker #whumpee #whumper

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melloraconteur · 11 months

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[Listen to the silent scream of (It was never heard)] Zane Ro'Meave

What you should expect -> Child abuse [mentioned], Character death [mentioned].

Synopsis -> The little boy who was afraid of his shadow had to grow, says the storyteller, he grew into something he thought he was and didn't think he could change his ways. No one bothered to prove otherwise . . .

Word count -> 1.2K

When his brother Vylad is born, he is allowed into the delivery room with his older brother Garroth and he takes a look at the boy and immediately can tell in his mind that Vylad will only ever be his brother through his mother's line by the way she holds him.

(He can never recall a time she held him like that.)

He is 5 years old when he watches with envy filled eyes at the love his mother gives so easily to her youngest and never to him.

He is 10 years old when is first introduced to the cruelty of his father and the unfair treatment between him and his brothers given by his mother.

It goes something like this.

He's running, running and weaving between important party guests with the intent of catching his brother Garroth. He's running too fast with his skinny legs to move out of the way of the noble woman and he knocks straight into her skirt, nearly bowling her over and makes her drop a glass of wine that has to be expensive by the sound it makes as it shatters on the wooden flooring.

He steps away from the woman's dress and into the sight of everyone who had turned to see what the disturbance was. He sees Garroth turn and stop when he hears the shattering of glass, he sees the easy going grin of his father turn into a tight lipped one and one of his mother's hands covers her mouth in shock (and maybe in shame.)

His father motions him to come to him. He cannot help but follow his command on autopilot, hoping and wishing his father will overlook this (he likely won't, you know this). He feels the heavy hand of his father set itself on his shoulder, an inch too close to his neck to be comfortable. He cannot help but turn to his mother, begging with his eyes for her to help him, for her to extend the loving hand she gives his siblings and prove that she loves him as much as Garroth or Vylad.

But she does not look at him, does not even give him a look of pity or anything. No, she is holding Vlyad in one arm and plastering Garroth to her side with the other, rubbing his arm and trying to be a comforting mother. The soft and delicate look in her eyes is not for him, it is for the children who she treasures.

And despite the heavy hand of his father an inch too close to his neck to be comfortable, despite the heated gazes glaring down on the interactions of his family, he feels like he's been thrown in an ice bath headfirst.

(Fine, if she won't love him, he won't waste effort on it either)

-?-

He is 15 years old when he starts dealing with his father's work. He has learned what his brothers have not. That you must learn when he wants to hear you and when you should remain silent.

He is 15 when he meets many men who he knows he would need to flay his skin from bone to get their stench off his skin.

(He is but a boy when an eye patch covers his right eye along with the bangs he carefully grew out (see mother, I can be nurturing too, he wants to scream at her))

-?-

Truth: Zane's father, Lord Gante, has always told him that to give him anything other than success is failure. Anything other than success is weakness. The man burned that into his memory, into his bones and told him he'd do his best not to forget.

-?-

He is a little older now. He has gained the title of High Priest from the Faith of Lady Irene. He sets forward to form his fractions.

His father 'gifts' him a friend of sorts that he thought would help him. It is a girl of a nobleman whose name he can't be bothered with.

She introduces herself with her first name and doesn't bother to give him her last. She doesn't wear a dress, she wears a beginner mage's robes with a necklace of a silver crane around her neck.

It is a strange meeting nonetheless. One where he begrudgingly gives answers to her and gives out questions in a bossy harsh voice. He half expects her to yell at him, half expects her to break down and leave him alone in one of the parlor rooms.

Instead she does none of these things. She grins warmly at his blatant rudeness and offers to take him on a walk through the market, a place he doesn't go too often.

(There is a small warmth in his chest. He hopes this girl of a nobleman will not leave him as everyone else did. He hopes to keep her as his own, to call her his and not have to worry about if he was wrong yet again.)

(Zane is a little older than 15 and is a very tired boy. He wants somewhere to rest his tired body. That's all.)

-?-

Truth: Zane has always been too aware. To put simply, he's playing chess while others are busy playing checkers and whenever this is brought up, he will grin something cold with teeth ready to bite.

(A child never given a childhood and raised by a monster can only be one thing.)

Confession: Zane has learned to be this way from his father, Lord Gante. Lord Gante always played nice with Garroth and regarded Vylad with a cold politeness but Zane had always seen the monster in the depths of his father. He can only remember seeing the monster take the place of his father when dealing out Zane's discipline.

(He does not know how to undo this way of life. He doesn't think he can even if he tried.)

-?-

Things can change within a few months.

Garroth, his eldest brother only through blood and title and nothing else, runs away and deserts his role as heir of O'Khasis.

( See? He could not handle what came with his title the voice that sounds like his father whispers, reminding him the consequences of faltering under pressure)

Vylad, the youngest brother connected to him through his mother and nothing else, dies at the hands of an assassin.

His mother, Lady Zianna, has shut herself away from the world, allowing herself to wallow in grief after losing two out of three sons.

( I'm here mother, your second son is still alive. Shouldn't that mean something to you? He wonders (screams) within his own head, never letting the words slip past gritted teeth.)

Fight. Survive. The voice demands when he is given the news that he is appointed the heir of O'Khasis, prove that you are more than the cards destiny gave you, it demands.

-?-

He was a monster before he was a child.

A weapon made up of blood and bones that was ready to tear into the world at a simple command.

Weapon, his father grins.

Monster, his mother wails.

He has never been a child loved by a mother and father.

He never had anyone love him without conditions.

-?-

The little boy who was afraid of his shadow had to grow, Says the storyteller, he grew into something he thought he was and didn't think he could change his ways. No one bothered to prove otherwise . . .

#MelloStories #Zane Ro'Meave x Reader #Zane Ro'meave #Garroth Ro'meave #Vylad Ro'meave #Aphmau MCD #Zianna Ro'meave #Reader is female #Gante Ro'meave #Implied child abuse #mentioned character death

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lbibliophile-sw · 6 months

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Mix-and-Match Clones

Also on AO3 @whumptober-archive - day 28: “You'll have to go through me.” @clonefandomevents - Haunted Clone week - day 6: armour holds their souls

The clones were made to be identical and interchangeable. Except that’s not quite true.

Everyone has a batchmate who is a bit faster, more agile; who swaps their backplate so the slowest can keep up.

There are slicers who read binary like a first language, and if you borrow their gloves your code will fall into line.

On the battlefield, veterans take a fallen captain or medic’s pauldron, hoping to better protect the survivors.

ARCs dress for a dangerous mission in armour assembled from carefully donated pieces.

The clones aren’t identical, but they are interchangeable. And they capitalise on that.

#haunted clones week #whumptober 2023 #no.28 #“You'll have to go through me.”#star wars #sw:tcw #drabble #mentioned character death #sharing armour #clone troopers #bingo fill

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ac3th3shark · 3 months

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Eiji gets the news that ash is dead.

you might wanna read tags before reading idk.

Eiji had barely been back home in Japan for a week when he got the call.

When he got it, he thought that Max had just wanted to check up on him. He had given him his number right before he left, and he hadn't called or texted yet. Honestly, he was excited to see how Max was doing, being back with Jessica and all.

"Hi max! How are you guys doing?"

"Oh, uh, I'm fine, I guess. Look, uh, I have something to tell you. Don't freak out or anything, ok?"

"..ok?"

"Ash uh, right after you left... Ash.. uh, died."

there was nothing but silence for a few minutes while Eiji was trying to process this. Ash was dead? no. No, he must have misheard something, Ash wasn't dead! No! Ash was way too strong to die! He was alive, he had to be, he was going to finish everything up and come visit him in Japan! Ash wasn't dead, he just couldn't be. Eiji wasn't sure when he started crying, or when and how he ended up on the floor or how long Max had been saying things, but he couldn't make out what it was that he was saying. Ash wasn't... Ash couldn't be... Ash.. Ash was.. Ash was dead. Ash is dead and there's nothing Eiji can do about it. His boyfriend was dead, and he couldn't do anything at all.

"Eiji!"

Eiji snapped out of his thoughts, becoming very aware of the hot tears pouring down his face and the choked sobs coming out of his mouth. He tried to respond but all that came out was more poor attempts at sounds.

"Eiji, it's ok...it'll be ok." Now that he payed attention Max was definitely crying too.

"No..." He managed to force out. It's not ok. Ash is dead. He never should have left, Eiji should have stayed there, in America. He should have stayed there with Ash, protected him, maybe then Ash would still be alive. "No..It's not..It's not ok.."

"Oh, Eiji..." Max doesn't know what to say either, he's been crying too. He couldn't save Griffen, he couldn't save Ash, he can't save anyone can he? And he can't even comfort Eiji.. oh Eiji... He thinks about how upset Eiji must be about this. He cared about Ash a lot, but Eiji was in love with Ash.

The two just sit there for a while, silently crying in each other's distant presence. Neither of them know what to do or say or if they even can say anything. The silence is finally broken when Eiji speaks.

"When... uh.. when's the funeral..?"

"Probably early next month, I'll tell you when I know for sure."

"...Ok, thanks.. I'll see you then."

"Yeah, sure."

Eiji hangs up but continues sitting there on the floor. He curls up into himself more. Ash was really dead. Ash was really dead and there was nothing he could do about it.

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flailingfrog · 1 year

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Nikole and Kit: Will Reading

TW : BBU/BBU-adjacent setting, dehumanization, conditioned whumpee, mentioned character death as a central focus

So Nikole’s inheriting everything. There’s no way Nikole isn’t inheriting everything. She’s the only kid, her mom never particularly cared for any of her cousins, Dad’s been dead—Who else is it going to go to?

Don’t take her the wrong way: she’s obviously ruined inside from her mother dying. There’s a hole in her life now, a hole where used to sit a woman who could be depended upon to wear a stupid purple quilt coat with her pet in a stupid orange quilt coat sitting next to her at a formal fucking dinner, Mom… and that hole could be, if not filled, then at least stuffed with her mother’s formidable collection of assets. The house alone has to be worth, what, two mil? And she must be able to get something for the Platonic.

This is what Nikole’s thinking about as she waits to meet with her mother’s lawyer and read the will. Holly’s here, too, maybe getting one of those aforementioned quilt coats. There isn’t a good place for her to sit in here that Nikole doesn’t have to look at her, the walls cramped to make the waiting area more like a mini hallway than its own individual space, the plant at the end barely aiding in the illusion. If it was anyone else, maybe she’d be a bit nicer, but she can admit to herself that she is not the bigger person when it comes to Holly—Maybe it’s the way her and Mom could get going on about quilting, or her weird crochet projects—She crochets teeth, and not cute teeth like you might find on a sign advertising a dentist. Teeth that seem designed to disturb Nikole in specific—or the way she seems to think her tie dye crocs are an appropriate choice of shoe to wear to everything, including a will reading, or, honestly, one of a thousand other ‘quirks’ Nikole finds distasteful. She doesn’t like her. Sue her. She’s polite to her face and that’s what matters, right? She can’t decide what she’d prefer: Her next to her? Directly across? Anything but this barely in her eyesight thing she’s doing?

Judy opens the door leading to the offices, serving them both a smile warmer than the weather outside. “Sorry for the wait, ladies. You ready to get to business?”

It’s enough for Nikole to forget about Holly, at least for the moment. She picks her bag up from the chair next to her. “Whenever you are.”

She leads them down the hall, the same beige as every other room Nikole’s ever seen in this building. The sparseness of the halls, unpersonal look of the front office, doesn’t follow into Judy’s office, all bulky dark wood furniture covered in books and files, paintings of boats everywhere.

They all take their seats, Judy teasing the manila folder her mother’s will is in. Theatrics. “First of all,” she starts, eyes flicking to Nikole, “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

The hole in her threatens, for a brief moment, to swallow her. She smiles easily, swallows down it and all the agitation that threatens to flow out from it. It just wouldn’t do to get agitated. “Thank you.”

Judy nods, as if she’s done something important, and opens the envelope. Of course, Judy already knows what’s written there—She helped write it. “Now,” she begins, “Daphne’s will is a bit… unusual.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Holly’s face sets like she knows what Judy’s talking about, which isn’t fair considering Nikole certainly doesn’t.

“I need you to know, Nikole, I really did urge her against this, but she insisted the two of you were the most important people in her life and she needed you to get along.” Her face has been twisting into something as she keeps talking.

Nikole’s own face stays neutrally polite, even as the intense urge to shake her and demand she get to the point begins to overwhelm her.

Judy’s eyes search her face, only increasing the urge, but when she finds nothing, she sighs and passes the document to Nikole to read as she speaks. “Holly is receiving $25,000 from one of her savings accounts, you can see which one in the papers there. She’s also the executor and trustee of Paul and Kit’s… trust.”

Nikole can read all that well enough, granted in much more legal language, but she looks up at Judy regardless, attempting to maintain her same veneer of politeness. There’s a reason Judy hesitated, and she’ll be damned before she makes it justified. “The pets got a trust?” Sure, there’s other things making her insides sting, but none of the other ones are taking her money right now.

For the first time since they’ve entered the room, Holly speaks. “It’s not unusual for concerned owners to provide for their pets in the event of their death. And your mother loved those two very much.”

Nikole stares at her. “But fifty percent of what’s left after the house and your cut? That’s not right.”

“Well, Kit’s not exactly a dog. She’s got to be taken care of for a long ti—”

“Did you tell my mom about this?” It seems the kind of thoughtless, wholly destructive thing Holly would do.

“Your mother was worried about them. I gave her an option to protect them as best she could.”

Heat burns at her neck and face. Holly’s voice didn’t even waver. She really believes this inane shit. Nikole shuts her eyes, smiling tightly.

For a long second, there isn’t a single sound in the room.

Then, Judy says, “Your mother wanted you to care for them.”

She’d read that part. Frankly, she doesn’t want to. But the money… It kept coming back to the money, which, again, should’ve been hers in the first place.

Of course, Holly has to speak. She’s so gentle, like she doesn’t hate Nikole’s guts as much as she hates hers, as she says, “You don’t have to. I understand you’ve never liked her. I’m more than willing—“

And really, more than anything that’s what seals it. Because fuck Holly, and fuck the way she’s acting like she actually cares what Nikole might feel, especially when she knows it’s more about some stupid boxbabe than her.

“No, I’ll do it.” She turns to Judy with the most winning smile she can muster, but she must fall flat given the uncertainty that’s returned. Nothing she can do about that. “Who can deny a dead woman’s final wish?”

So Nikole guesses she has a pet Platonic now.

@angst-after-dark

#whump #pet whump #bbu whump #box boy universe #ladywhump #mentioned character death #nikole's name is what i call environmental storytelling #nikole and kit

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in-flvx · 1 year

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Eulogy

@wolfstarmicrofic

"Dearly beloved.

We have gathered here today to celebrate the life, and mourn the death of- the death of our dearest friend.

Many of you have heard of him before meeting him. Have feared him before loving him, maybe even tried to hate him beyond that. He was a man of big emotions. And that is what he inspired in those he met.

I-.. I am- sorry. I am lucky enough to have known him for most of my-... Im sorry...

Those of you who knew him at hogwarts know him as mischievous, rebellious, a troublemaker through and through. But he was also highly intelligent and deeply curious, in fact I am still convinced that the only reason he wasn't top of the class was because some teachers wanted to keep his ego down.

And he was-.. He was loyal. He- his friendship with James Potter the stuff of legends, and I can- I can tell you that it was no less wondrous to witness them together. He inspired James and grounded him too. They were like two sides of the same coin, and all the other corny analogies you can think of.

And even outside of that bond he would be the.. The most loyal person you could know. Be loyal to him and he- he'd-.. I'm sorry. He would protect you with his-.. Withhislife.

I was-.. I'm sorry. You could all witness his loyalty through Harry here. He risked so much, just to be there for him, where so many of us failed to do the same.

I am lucky enough to have known him for most of my life. He was my first friend in the world. He was my rock when the world tried to drown me. He became an animagus for me, just to make my life a little more bearable. He outshone all, like the his namesake does. He still does. We failed him. I.. I failed-.. I failed him in more ways than I could count. And possibly the most when I believed him able of betrayal. We left him in Azkaban for fucks sake!

He deserved so much better, more than we, than the world... or me, ever had to offer, or were willing to give to him. And still... He was unfailingly-... he was so lovely-

I'm sorr-.. I need a moment.

I don't often share what is close to my heart-... or what is deeply rooted inside it. But he is. He was my first kiss. I was his-... I was his last. There is love, and there is Sirius Black.

Let's drink to him! "

#sirius black #marauders #remus lupin #wolfstar #james potter #harry potter #sirius orion black #remus john lupin #Grief #Mentioned character death #wolfstar microfic #Beloved

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mwolf0epsilon · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 16: No Way Out

Prompt: "No one's coming."

Summary: The war has ended and Wolffe finally has the time to talk with Fox. What he finds is the Coruscant Guard less than eager to help him along the way, or even tolerate his presence.

[Yes I'm breaking out random AUs for Whumptober as well. It freshens the experience considerably.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

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The war had ended rather anticlimactically. One day it was in full swing, swooping roars of ships caught in dogfights and near infinite rains of blaster-fire, and then the next it was all just... Quiet. The conflict gone like a dying whisper. Leaving behind a handful of Jedi and hundreds of still living clone troopers wandering what came after.

Where their place in the galaxy might be now that they weren't immediately needed to resolve ongoing conflict. To fight, to survive, to work around the enemy's forces, was all that most of them knew.

What had changed to so abruptly cut off the war, one might ask? To put it simply, the chancellor had died of a heart attack. Keeled over mid-meeting while leaving behind a cacophony of hysterical screams of concerned senators. Or rather, temporarily concerned prior to the old bastard popping into a mist of dark shadows and ash.

A sith. The chancellor had been a Force-damned sith. And he'd died of natural causes of all things...

Anticlimactic in all senses of the word.

It almost made Wolffe sad that he hadn't gotten the chance to be a part of a grand battle against the old coot. To aid his general and allies in bringing down the true oppressor of the system he'd been cloned to defend.

It would have been the thing of legends.

Things were hectic still. Not in the same manner that they had been on the battlefront, mind you, but not quite as quiet as one would expect with the end of a war that had apparently been orchestrated from within.

Because of course Palpatine had been playing both sides.

He was a sith after all. They were crafty like that. Schemed big.

The current chaos was mostly political. Senators were scrambling to vote for a new more trustworthy chancellor, while also trying to figure out who fit the bill. As it turned out corruption ran rampant within the Senate, and that had been part of the reason why Palpatine had managed to get things done right under everyone's noses. There was also the issue of what to do with the clone army, but Wolffe didn't much care for that right now.

Cody, Faie and Gree were doing the great majority of the worrying on that side of things as it was. He, meanwhile, was far too busy trying to find Fox in all of this confusion to really think about the future.

His vod'ika hadn't said anything at all in the command batch private channel since the end of the war (hadn't said anything well before then now that he really thought about it), and that had felt rather uncharacteristic of him. Fox was the sort of bastard that never knew how to keep his opinion to himself. Had been a smart-mouth since he could talk. The silence was off-putting and it bothered him.

But it hadn't bothered him nearly as much as Wolffe not getting a reply when he'd messaged him privately. No one that he asked to do the same got any form of reply or acknowledgement, which didn't seem to surprise them or raise any sort of concern.

Cody had said Fox was just being a bitch as usual. Bly thought maybe he was just too busy with all the paperwork he probably ended up with after Palpatine croaked it. Neither suggestions had satisfied him so Wolffe had gone looking himself.

No better way to talk than face to face after all. Especially not now that he actually had the time to do that.

The problem was... The corries were not really cooperating with him.

Coruscant was huge. This had never really registered in Wolffe's mind back when he hadn't been on planet for long. His stays were often quite short-lived in between most campaigns he'd been a part of, and he knew foreign planets better than he actually knew 000.

That said the Coruscant Guard HQ was comparatively tinier than even the Senate Rotunda.

Tiny wasn't even an overstatement. The commander of the 104th had no idea how any of the corries could live in such derelict and cramped conditions.

Moldy damp spots were everywhere, the creaking of the foundation of the building was loud and ever present, and honestly Wolffe wasn't even sure how the whole thing hadn't come down on any of them just yet. The whole thing looked ready to collapse if you breathed on a support beam wrong.

No health-code in the history of civilization could possibly deem this shithole of a facility livable. Yet somehow the corries didn't complain about it. They simply just... Existed there.

Like they didn't expect anything better, which was appalling to say the least (and there's a lot Wolffe would like to say about all this).

Minuscule as the corrie barracks were, they were still very much a hard to navigate maze. So hard in fact that Wolffe couldn't figure out where the hell Fox's office was meant to be.

And none of the corries gave him a straight answer whenever he tried to ask. They just stared at him through their unreadable buckets (which they didn't take off even while indoors in their living spaces), silently scrutinizing him before giving a vague answer. Wolffe could feel the burning gaze of many of those men through their helmets. Could feel the anger radiating off of them.

His presence seemed to be unwelcome here.

"Have you gone downstairs? I'm sure his office is as low as your men spoke of us corries and our commanding officers... Or were that the men on the 212th? Perhaps the 501st?" A K9 trooper holding a leashed massiff offered. The sarcastic undertone was downright hostile despite his voice being quite leveled. "It's hard to tell, all of you sound so very alike... Now if you'll excuse me commander, Grizzer here needs to go back to his kennel..."

"Maybe you should check on the top floor." A shock trooper spat out venomously, right fist clutching electrostaff rather tightly. This one had no trouble showing his disdain for him being there. "Obviously Fox would be the sort of ego-maniac to look down on others while lording over his troops."

"I'm sorry sir, but I'll have to ask you to leave." A rather burly riot trooper monotonously informed him, while getting his arm stitched back up by a riot trooper officer right in front of the medbay door. "The medbay is currently off-limits to anyone who is not a part of the Coruscant Guard, due to unforeseen circumstances involving both a lack of resources and equipment. If you have any injuries you may need tending to, I would suggest going to your own battalion medics, an on-planet hospital, or sucking it up and dealing with it instead of bitching about it."

"You wouldn't find Fox in the medbay either." the riot trooper officer huffed apathetically. "Avoided it whenever he could. Didn't like giving Remedy or the rest of the medics any extra work. They barely ever got to rest"

The pattern remained like that. Either Wolffe would get turned around, barred entry from certain locations, or have the most sardonic responses given to him. It gave him a grim look into the sheer misery the Guard lived in.

He'd imagined something much better than this. All of them had.

A Coruscant posting didn't look nearly as nice and inviting as he'd once thought... In fact it only made him want to find Fox more desperately. Because if his men weren't doing well, then he dreaded think what condition his vod'ika might be in.

Finally a single trooper seemed to spare him the grief of running around in infinite loops like a headless nuna. A clone in officer's fatigues carrying several datapads, accompanied by an armoured clone with V-shaped and triangular decals that held some kind of specialized job Wolffe certainly didn't recognize (because all of the corries displayed their particular jobs through their identically painted armour and gear).

The officer, freckly face framed by long parted curls and a few thin scars, took one look at Wolffe and held a contemplative look for a few seconds before fully acknowledging him.

The trooper beside him remained silent. Eerily so.

"Can I help you sir?" The younger clone asked, tone gentle and kind unlike the rest of the corries he'd come across previously. Not a hint of hostility behind his words.

"Yes... I'm looking for Fox's office." The commander couldn't help let relief wash over him. Finally there was some hope he might actually reach his brother today.

"You're looking for the marshal commander's office?" The officer hummed in thought. His face scrunching up slightly. "Well... Myself and Rookie here are headed there right now. If you'd like you could accompany us."

"If it isn't a bother." Wolffe noted the number of datapads the officer was holding. Whatever Fox had summoned him for was likely important.

"It's never a bother to help a brother out..." The officer smiled sweetly, watching Wolffe with attentive eyes. Unblinking. "Us Guardsmen are loyal to our brothers above all else."

Funny, every single one of the corries he'd met hadn't been particularly keen on helping him out. Maybe today was just a bad day.

He followed the two clones without another word. The officer seemed content to fill the silence with humming while his companion marched alongside him quite stiffly. The tension on the armoured clone's shoulders apparent in his body language. He was uncomfortable with Wolffe's presence.

They reached what looked like a broom closet. For a second Wolffe thought maybe he'd been tricked again, until the officer knocked on the unassuming door.

"It's unlocked."

Of course it was. The door looked ready to fall off it's hinges. But that wasn't what really bothered Wolffe at the moment. No, the concern lay in it not being Fox who was seated at the desk of the tiny closet office.

"Commander Wolffe, to what do I owe the pleasure?" One of Fox's men, Thorn, was seated at the desk.

"I'm looking for the marshal commander..." He responded, eyebrows furrowing as he scanned the cramped little box that should most definitely not house a marshal commander.

"You're looking at him." Thorn deadpanned.

"No... I'm looking for Fox." Something wasn't right.

"....That's in poor taste sir." Thorn cocked his helmet to the side. Wolffe could practically feel himself burn under all the blindingly hot hatred masked behind his strained tone. "Surely you know that?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh... Don't you know sir? Perhaps you were off-planet when the memo was passed along?" The officer from before smiled sweetly again. But now that Wolffe was confronted with this situation, it didn't feel sweet at all. His smile felt lampoonish. "Fox died two years ago. We sent a full report to the GAR."

It was like time itself had stopped working. The words Fox and dead did not go together. They weren't supposed to.

"...What...?"

"Rookie, do you still have the recordings on your pad? Or have they been archived in the vault? I feel like digging up an old report will take too long to refresh some memories..." Thorn turned to look at the silent trooper who merely nodded in reply before taking out a datapad attacked to a latch on his belt.

The silent clone tapped away on his screen before shoving the datapad into Wolffe's hands.

What the commander of the 104th saw on that tiny screen... It bare not ever see the light of day. Unspeakable. Unsightly. Soul-crushing. They'd all undergone training to resist torture, but what Fox and the handful of men that had been captured with him had gone through was somehow so much worse than anyone would dare imagine.

The Malevolence incident had never left Wolffe's mind. He doubted seeing his baby brother's last moments would leave him either.

"It's been days... Why hasn't anyone come for us sir?" A shiny, a karking shiny, whimpered weakly while laying pressed against the vod'ika Wolffe would never get to talk to ever again.

Disillusioned, tired and wanting nothing more than for all their torment to end, Fox gave the poor kid an honest answer.

"No one's coming." The dead marshal commander hoarsely proclaimed with a certainty that made Wolffe's stomach roll. "We're not worth enough to retrieve..."

"But... But my brothers in the GAR they--"

"Don't you get it kid? The GAR looks after the GAR." Fox sighed. "The Guard isn't part of the GAR... We don't matter. They'll forget you ever existed. They always do..."

"I don't want to die..."

"No one's coming." Fox repeated, weak and unsure what else to do. There's no consoling any of the dying men around him. There's no consoling Wolffe either. "I'm sorry it had to be this way."

"Us Guardsmen are loyal to our brothers above all else." The silent trooper removes his helmet, revealing a young clone with a distinct V-shaped tattoo and eyes full of hatred and disgust.

"You GAR bastards are not our brothers." The officer's smile is bordering on cruel now. "A decision you made for yourself when you abandoned us here. When you all stopped calling. When you stopped caring because you thought we were all just weak little crybabies."

"Fox is dead." Thorn hisses. "Fox is dead and you lot didn't even care to look at the report that would tell you as much. Get out of here before I have security escort your worthless shebs out of here."

The war has ended and Wolffe's entire life is collapsing in on itself. This is not the victory he wanted.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober2022 #commander wolffe #commander fox #sergeant hound #commander thire #commander thorn #clone trooper dogma #coruscant guard dogma #clone ocs #riot trooper olly olly oxenfree #riot trooper red alert #communications corrie rhythm #mentioned character death #wolffe is getting the brunt of all of the coruscant guard's rage #it's not great

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wyrm-with-a-why · 5 months

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Had to do it tbh

#transformers #megatron #kiloton #soundwave #optimus prime #starscream #bumblebee #ratchet #angst #mentioned character death #based on canon

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fallenwhumpee · 8 months

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Hello :D! Tis I, :D anon, with yet another snippet after hearing your cries for leader whump ✨️ (totally get it lol I also think we need more leader whumpees)

I feel like I should mention there's sort of minor whump (ish? It mentions dead kids) and implied (?) suicidal ideation.

Anyway enjoy!!

Leader walked down the empty beach, the taste of salt hanging in the air, and the waves crashing on the shore.

They did it. They were safe.

Child would've loved this place, Leader thought. They'd drag Youngest into the water, splashing them as they tried to run away from the cold water. Teammate A would watch from afar, laughing, as Medic scrambled after the two kids, ensuring they didn't drown. In their minds eye, they could see Teammate B lounging in the sand, before regretting it as they grains showered out of their long hair.

Right Hand...

"There isn't anything wrong with crying, Leader," Right Hand said softly. "You shouldn't be ashamed of missing them."

Leader's breath hitched. "Still. I should've done more for them. I should've saved them! Medic and Teammate A never got to see their own kid grow up! Not that there was much to see in the end, since Youngest--"

Right Hand watched sadly as Leader struggled to breathe between sobs.

"And Child-- our own kid, Right Hand! I couldn't protect our own kid!"

"You tried your best, Leader."

"Well, it wasn't enough!" Leader snapped. "Teammate B didn't have to die! If I was just a little faster--"

"It was their time to go," Right Hand said gently, but Leader shook their head.

“I could’ve saved almost any of them. But I couldn’t. I didn’t. I should’ve done more for them. I should’ve done more for you,” they said. “Even if I was able to find this place, the only people I brought with me were Teammate C, Magician, and Healer. Why couldn’t I have brought more? Why couldn’t they have lived? They all looked to me to be their leader, so why couldn’t I protect them?!"

Right Hand hesitated. "It wasn't your fault, Leader," they said quietly.

"Then who's fault is it?!" Leader screamed. Their breath came in gasps, tears streaming freely.

"Leader."

Leader looked up, eyes widening as they realized what they had done.

"I-- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... to..."

"I know." And Leader could feel them squeezing their hand in that reassuring way they always did. "It's alright."

The taste of salt wasn't only because of the ocean spray, Leader knew.

"...I'll come find you, Right Hand," they said softly.

"Don't you dare!" Right Hand snapped. "It's not your time. You still have things to do, Leader."

"What things? Those three are more than capable of taking care of themselves." Leader's voice shook as they spoke. "I've done my job. They're safe."

Leader's breath came in small gasps as they kept walking down the beach, alone. Their mind projected images they both desperately wished to disappear and desperately clung to. Child laughing as Youngest screeched at a too high wave. Medic anxiously keeping them from going in too deep, before being tackled into the water by Teammate A. Teammate B laughing as Medic spluttered, and Right Hand elbowing them none too gently, ignoring Leader's protests to keep still as they braided their hair. Just like they always did.

Leader held back another sob. They'd cried enough today. Still, their words caught in their throat.

"I don't even have you here with me anymore."

Fun fact!! This is a refurbished lil snippet I wrote a while back that I just stripped the names of lol. Also, the Leader and Youngest here are the same ones that inspired the first snippet I sent you :D (Right Hand is Medic if you're curious)

:D anon

OH NO. Anon I'm crying and it's 2 am. This is gorgeous. This is so... oh my. I didn't expect this. It's also so fitting because im at a beachside. Just. Wow. It hurts. Well done.

"Their mind projected images they both desperately wished to disappear and desperately clung to." Someone give this guy a hug. Please. This is so sad, and I can feel it.

The last line. Just *scream*. I didn't need my heart.

And I would really like to read your story! Two snippets in, and I'm hooked.

This will haunt me for a while. It feels absolutely vivid.

Thank you for thiss<3

#:D anon #whump #whump writing #leader whump #leader whumpee #mentioned character death #implied suicidal intention #i love you anon youre amazing #:D anon writes whump

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suspensefulpen · 4 months

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Whumpcember Day 22: (Alt. 8) Tears + (Alt. 9) Begging

TW: Conditioned Whumpee, Mention of Blood, Comfort Item Taken Away, Restraints

@whumpcember

Inspired by @justbreakonme, happy birthday to her :D

Whumpee flinched when he heard the creaking of the staircase as Whumper descended down them. A wide smirk was on his face. This terrified Whumpee even more.

“Whumpee, you know what today is?”

“Today? Um…no.” He shook his head slowly. He tightly clutched the jacket that hung on his shoulders. It once belonged to Caretaker.

“How about a guess? No punishment.”

Whumpee slightly lit up at those words. He looked around for a moment. What could be so special about today? He looked Whumper up and down to see if it would supply him with a guess. He got nervous when he noted the large, red can at his side.

“Um… A holiday?”

“No. Close. We’ll celebrate it like one though.”

He thought for a moment. “Someone's birthday?”

“Aren’t you a smart cookie!” Whumper cooed. “Now guess who’s birthday it is.”

“…yours?”

“Ah, I wish it was.”

“Um… I don’t know.” Whumpee shrugged.

“It’s Caretaker’s birthday.” His heart sank as Whumper’s smirk widened. “Did you know that?”

“No…”

“Well now you do!” Whumper walked over and unchained Whumpee’s ankle.

“But… But you hate Caretaker.”

“Hate is a strong word.” He said before pulling Whumpee up to stand. “How about we go get some fresh air, yeah?”

“Uh, okay.” He followed Whumper upstairs and outside. Whumpee had to briefly shield his eyes from the brightness. It had been a long while since he’d been upstairs. He noticed the red can was still in Whumper’s hand and began to feel nervous. Was this a trick? Was this going to end badly for him?

“It’s a bit cold out here, don’t you think?” Whumper asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

Whumpee shivered as he nodded. “Yeah. A little.”

“I’m sure you want a jacket. A real one, anyway.”

“But I already have—”

“No you don’t.” Whumper snatched the jacket off Whumpee frame and held it up, inspecting it. He dug his hands through each of the pockets and found a note in one. It had Caretaker’s handwriting on it. He balled it up and stuffed it in his own pocket.

“Um, Whumper? Can I…please have my jacket back? It’s really cold out here.”

“Of course, of course. Wouldn’t want you getting sick, would we?” Whumper smiled as he slid off his own jacket and handed it to Whumpee. Whumpee reluctantly pulled his arms through the jacket. He grimaced as he picked up the smell of cigarettes and cologne. He didn’t like the smell. It didn’t smell safe like Caretaker’s jacket did. Granted, his did have some blood stains on it while Whumper’s was probably freshly washed, he still liked Caretaker’s better. He watched quietly as Whumper tossed the jacket on a huge pile of leaves. Panic instantly plagued his mind.

“Whumper… what are you doing?”

He smiled as he began unscrewing the cap on the red can. “We’re celebrating.” Once he got it off, he tossed it to Whumpee, catching him off guard. “Hold that.” He began pouring the contents of the can onto the leaves and jacket. The smell coming from the liquid caused Whumpee’s panic to heighten.

Whumper walked over, his smile turning into a crooked grin as he took the cap and screwed it back onto the can. “Now as much as I love hearing you scream, you should take a few steps back.” He pulled Whumpee away from the pile, giving him no room to protest. He reached in his pocket and took out a box of matches. He struck one and tossed it onto the jacket and flames instantly rose in front of them. Whumper stepped up to Whumpee, the grin still on his face. “All warm now Whumpee?” He laughed before reaching in the jacket pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He reached in a different pocket for a lighter.

“Whumper, please stop this. I don’t want to celebrate anymore.” Whumpee said as tears filled his eyes.

“Oh but Darling,” Whumper paused to light the cigarette. “we’ve just begun.” He smiled, pulling the cigarette from between his lips.

“I don’t want to anymore. I wanna go back inside.” Whumpee shook his head, his tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Aw, are you scared I’m gonna let the fire hurt you? Don’t worry, Love. I won’t.” Whumper pulled him into an embrace, stroking his hair as he began sobbing. That was the very last memory they had of Caretaker before his death. Now it was up in flames as a “celebration” of his birthday. “We didn’t need him in our way anyway. He was only an obstacle in our path.” Whumper spoke as if he was calming Whumpee down in any way. He only continued to sob as Whumper puffed clouds of smoke above his head.

“I think we ought to get a picture of this. For the memory.” He hummed. “What do you say?”

“No.” Whumpee shook his head. “No, please. I don’t want to—”

“Shall we visit Caretaker’s grave while we’re at it?”

“No! Please—”

“Did I just hear a no come out of your mouth, Whumpee?” Whumper held a hand up to his ear. “Are you protesting?”

“No sir. Please! I—”

“What’s the begging for Whumpee? I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you permission to beg for anything.”

“I… I don’t want to celebrate anymore. I wanna go back inside, sir.”

“Well that’s too bad. It’s not gonna happen. Now come on, let’s take a picture so we both remember this day. It would’ve been Caretaker’s twenty-seventh birthday. Such a shame he didn’t get to live to see thirty. All because of you.”

#whumpcember2023 #whumpcember #whump #whump writing #angst #conditioned whumpee #comfort item #chains #character death #mentioned character death #birthday #suspense #guilt #creative writing #writeblr #writer things #writers on tumblr #I rewrote this way too many times for my liking

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familyofpaladins · 6 months

Text

The Pizza Game (Chp 4)

Chapter 4: Mikey Orders a Pizza

Chapter 1 | <Chapter 3 | X | Chapter 5>

Ao3 link

Summary:

Mikey opens a time gateway. (But not the gateway you're thinking of) words: 3423

Notes:

Bit of a time skip from the last chapter! We are still in Angstville. :3 I rewrote sections of this chapter like 3 times, so I hope the final result is okay

Michelangelo sat in the Middle of his room, books and scrolls surrounding him.

I can do this. I can do this. He repeated to himself as he took a steadying breath. (He ignored his trembling hands).

For all the years and scrolls and books he had searched for and researched, creating a Time Gateway wasn’t actually that complicated.

But years it had taken.

---

Mikey had demanded that Draxum help him find the time scepter or relics. Draxum had refused, but only because he knew that the items Michelangelo wanted no longer existed, if they ever did in the first place.

Then Mikey begged Draxum to help him look for it anyway or for any way to get his brother back. It was in the wake of Raphael’s death, and his determination was the most alive Mikey had looked in months. He needed to find some possible way to fix things. That was when Draxum caved and agreed to help him find a way to create a Time Gateway.

Draxum only knew about the theory of them in general, he could not perform the ritual himself. But he knew they were risky and usually required multiple masters to have enough power to perform one.

Mikey didn’t let any of that deter him.

Mikey was then told of where they could possibly obtain the knowledge necessary to learn how to make a time gateway. Draxum and Mikey told everyone that they were going to complete Michelangelo’s mystic training to become a master. That was true, it was one of the reasons that Draxum agreed to the search, that in doing so they would also finish his mystic training at the remaining strongholds of Mystic Teachings.

And then they had left. Over the next two years Michelangelo and Draxum found the texts to learn how to make a time gateway together, though Draxum was still wary of it, claiming the process to be very risky, both for the casters, and for time itself.

However, on the journey they found something else.

They had found that the empyrean had actually been created by the Krang’s arrival centuries ago. They found a way to mystically reverse engineer it to push back the Krang.

They had made headway over the next couple of years in the fight against the krang and gained land and resources. With the war finally turning in their favor, Mikey had other things to focus on and his plans for the time gateway were pushed to the side, even though his grief had dulled but never disappeared.

And then the krang found a way to negate the mystic attacks. The war had stalled for another 2 years, and they lost Baron Draxum during that time.

Then the krang found a way to turn the mystic attack against them, and they scrambled to hold their ground.

And then Michelangelo lost another brother, and gained a new reason to try for a time gateway.

---

According to everything he read on the matter, the only things needed to create a Gateway was: Focus and Conviction set on a clear point in time of when you wanted the gateway to open to, and an immense amount of energy to tunnel through the stream of time.

(That last part was what Barry had been worried about the most. It’ll be fine, don’t think about it.)

And okay. It was a little more complicated than just thinking about When you wanted the gateway to open. There was a lot that had to deal with sensing the flow of time, and following it back (or forward but that was more complicated) and staying connected within your own timeline and not fracturing it and possibly destroying your own time line in the process before even getting there.

Draxum had worried over that too, saying the gateway wasn’t worth the risk. But he wasn’t here to stop him, Mikey thought bitterly. Neither was his most overprotective brother. Nor the brother who had the most to say about the possibilities of time travel.

That was why Mikey had to practice now, get used to the flow of linear time, and how to reach back in it. Reach back, open a gate, and pull something (some One) Back.

He couldn’t worry about the possibility of only being able to do it once. He had to be able to do it twice. So this first attempt was just practicing. If he messed it up, he didn’t want to get stuck in a time loop of his brother dying. (Don’t think about it, don’t think about it. Focus.)

He had to focus on something else. Some other time. Some other time with something he could put enough conviction in to focus on…

Well. They certainly had joked about it enough.

Mikey was going to order a pizza.

He raised his hands. Moved them in the specific pattern the scrolls said to. Felt the flow of time around him, focused on When he was wanting to go, and Reached.

It was a weird feeling. Cold rushed past him, but there was a warm chord of time he was following that connected to when he wanted to go. Trying to expand the cord into a tunnel felt like standing at the bottom of a waterfall and trying to swim upwards.

He pulled a little more from the well of mystic energy he had inside to push forward (backward? FOCUS).

He could do this. He had to do this.

He needed his brothers back.

He had to be able to do this. Just a little more.

A little more.

Come on, come on!

He could feel the push and pull of the time stream.

“Mikey?”

He just had to keep pushing, put just a little more energy into it-

“Mikey?!”

Focus. He had to focus. This couldn’t work if he was distracted.

“What are you doing?! Mikey stop!” The pleas of his (last remaining) brother were ignored. He had to FOCUS-

“Michelangelo! STOP!” The cold (hot? It felt like they were burning) hands that shook his shoulders sent him out of the timestream, faster than he had entered it. He gasped like he’d actually been holding his breath. In the dying light of the orange gateway, that had been about the size of a quarter (that was all the bigger it had gotten?) he saw Leonardo’s concerned and slightly panicked face.

Michelangelo glared at him.

“Why did you do that?! Why did you stop me?! I was So Close!” he growled. (It was a lie)

“So close to what? Mikey, what were you even doing?! Do you see what it did to you?”

“I was-“ He cut himself off. How could he explain this? “I’m fine!”

“Michelangelo. No you’re not.” Leo gently took Mikey’s hands, and he looked down at them.

There were cracks that covered his hands and spread up to his elbows. They were bleeding ever so slightly. Well, Shit. That hadn’t ever happened before. He hadn’t noticed it at all before, but now he could feel the pain seeping into his limbs.

“Oh…. Ow.”

“Yeah ‘ow’” Leo sighed. “Sit on the bed, big man.” Leo said as he guided Mikey into sitting.

Mikey stared at his hands. Was this what Draxum had been so worried about? Pulling from the source of his mystic energy, his ninpo, and using too much it was actually pulling him apart too?

“Let me see your hands” Leo said, kneeling in front of him, holding bandages and other medical supplies. When had he stepped away to grab them? Mikey rested his hands on his brother’s metal one (Mikey had been on his journey when Leo lost the real one. He tried not to feel guilty about not being there). The movement stretched the cracks and he winced.

He couldn’t help but think how 20 years ago he might have asked for some pain relief, but it was a rare commodity now, only used in extreme cases, and this was far from the worst pain he’d ever muscled through.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Leo wiped the blood away, and applied a very thin amount of antiseptic to the cracks.

“So you gonna tell me what you were doing, that caused this?” Leo asked conversationally as he began to wrap his hands. Leo was looking at the wrappings, but Mikey still avoided his brother’s face and looked around the room. It looked like a whirlwind had swept through and threw all his books and belongings every which way. He remembered the feeling of cold sweeping past him and wondered if maybe a whirlwind HAD swept through.

His brother was still looking at the bandages he was wrapping around his arms, giving him space, but Mikey knew he was still waiting on an answer. Where to start?

“I was…” Mikey chuckled wetly, “I was trying to order a pizza.” His voiced cracked on the last word.

Leo turned his head at that, eyebrow raised in confusion, but the corner of his mouth was twitching at the remark. “You were… ordering a pizza?”

“In a way…” Mikey chuckled before sighing.

Leonardo was done with the bandages and sat on the bed, shoulder to shoulder with his brother. Mikey leaned into him. 35(34?) years old, and he still leaned on his older brother.

“Do you remember that one time we were talking about pizza?”

“Gonna have to be more specific there, Miguel.” Mikey butted his head against the shoulder he was leaning on.

“When we were talking about summoning pizzas?”

“Haha, yeah I remember that! And old Barry said you’d need a dimension filled with pizza for it to work? Don’t tell me you found a pizza dimension” Leo chuckled.

“No, no pizza dimension, sorry,” Mikey hummed.

“Darn.”

Mikey fiddled with the edge of his bandages before he spoke again.

“And do you remember how Donnie said it was too bad we couldn’t just travel back in time to get one?” He felt his brother stiffen. “And then Draxum said that time travel was possible but you needed a time scepter or a gateway, but that pizza wasn’t worth the risk of messing it up?”

Mikey could feel Leo looking at him. Mikey couldn’t look back at him, kept going, knowing if he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to start again.

“And, and do you remember how me and Barry were gone for two years to complete my mystic training, after-“ deep breath”-after Raph died?”

“Yeah?” Mikey could hear the confusion and concern in his voice.

“I- I asked Draxum to help me find a time scepter or whatever, but he said they didn’t exist, but I kept asking about anyway to go back. And then he agreed to teach me how to make a time gateway.”

“Mikey.”

‘I- I just wanted to get Raph back!” Mikey plowed on, “You and Donnie were so angry and upset! Without Raph you were both throwing yourselves into fights and I was afraid I’d lose you too! And and I wanted him back too! So I made Barry teach me! On that trip I found all the books I needed, but it still took time to learn, and then we found out about the empyrean and we started winning and I- I stopped working on the gateway, trying to finish the fight with the Krang! And I forgot about it! And then- and now- now Donnie is dead too-” Mikey was sobbing by the end, voice cracking so bad the words barely made it out.

“Oh Mikey” Leo breathed, eyes wet, turned and wrapped him in tight hug, letting Mikey sob into his chest.

It’d been only two weeks since Donatello’s death.

“I want our brothers back, Leo. How are we supposed to do this without them?”

“I don’t know Mikey. I don’t know” And Oh. Oh shit. Leo was crying now too.

Mikey knew that Leo took Raph’s death very hard. They all did, of course, but Leo especially. They’d been co leading missions and supply runs and just watching each other’s backs. When one couldn’t handle the load, the other took it up. But then Raph was gone and Mikey himself had gone on a Mystic Journey for almost two years leaving them alone. So Leo and Donnie had relied on each other even more than before. And now Donnie was gone too. Mikey should have been more surprised by how well Leo had been holding himself together.

Mikey now realized why his brother had looked so panicked when he stopped him from opening the gateway. He didn’t want to lose his last brother.

“Shit, I’m sorry Leo” he cried and hugged his brother harder.

“Shhh Mikey” Leo whispered and rubbed soothing circles on his shell. He didn’t say it was okay, because nothing was okay.

They sat in silence for a while longer. Part of him was ashamed for crying so much when they were already surrounded by so much death and destruction. The other part of him (Dr. Feelings? Hadn’t heard from Him in a while) said that this was needed, that keeping everything locked up would just cause problems later.

They held each other and shared their grief for a few more minutes. Then they finally untangled themselves, and went back to leaning shoulder to shoulder.

“So this,” Leo pointed to his damaged arms, “was caused from you trying to open a time gateway?”

“Yeah,” Mikey sniffled.

“Guess this is why Draxum said you needed a team of sorcerers huh.”

“Yeah, trying to push the gateway through time was pretty tough. Guess it was a good thing you stopped me, I hadn’t even noticed the cracks.” Mikey rubbed at his arms, the more they sat there the heavier and more sore they felt.

“Even though you said you were close?” Leo asked, concern once again on his face.

“I wasn’t. Not really,” Mikey admitted. “I’d say I only got about… 60%? of the way there? But I was…. Also trying to go farther back than I really needed to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t kidding, earlier, when I said I was trying to get a pizza.”

Leo raised a brow in question.

“I was practicing. Seeing if I could even do it at all. Figure out how it feels to navigate the time stream. We joked about it so much,” Mikey chuckled wetly, “I thought I’d practice by pulling a pizza from the past.”

“Oh my god. You really did try to order a pizza via time travel” Leo said face palming, but Mikey saw a hint of smile, so he’d call it a win. “Wait, you were just going to pull the pizza through, not you go through the gateway itself?”

“Yeah that was the plan, though I’m not sure if it would have worked like that. That’s why I was testing it. I thought… I thought if I could just- just go back in time to right before they died, that maybe I could bring them here. Nothing else would be changed, we’d just get them back in the here and now.”

“Mikey, I’m not sure that would have worked anyway.”

“And why not?” Mikey demanded. He had worked too hard, to be told it was a fruitless endeavor (even if he already knew it).

“Because they did die,” Mikey refused to look at the purple and red bandanas tied around the sword handle that proved it. “And if you would manage to bring them here… It means you’d have pulled them from some other Time line, breaking it into branching timelines.”

“You sound like Donnie,” Mikey grumbled. Leo just smiled sadly.

“And if you did do that,” Leo continued, “you would have just made another timeline where we still lose a brother. And I don’t think either of them would want that.”

Oh.

Mikey hadn’t thought about it like that.

He still didn’t like it.

“I suppose you’re going to order me to not attempt it again?” Mikey asked, expecting a resounding “you bet your shell!”

But he was met with silence.

“Leo?”

“Well, I can’t really order you to do anything. But… I… don’t think you should try again, for pizza or our brothers,” Mikey pretended not to notice the tremor in his voice on that last word. “It seems too much of a risk for you to lose yourself in trying, and my Ninpo isn’t strong enough to help either.”

Leo paused and stared at his hands.

“Master Splinter used to say something about not wallowing in bad things of the past, that we just have to make do with what we have now. That all our experiences, good and bad, help to shape who we are.”

Mikey could remember his dad saying something like that. He thinks it had originally been said about his own fate of being forced to fight in the Battle Nexus and then captured by Draxum and mutated into a rat. And that while those events were awful for him, he wouldn’t change it for the world, because it had also given him his sons.

“So you’re saying that if we go and start trying to fix all the bad things in the past, we might miss out on the good things that also come from them?”

“Now you’re getting it,” Leo smiled at him.

“Like the finding out about the empyrean when I left after…?”

“Yeah. It helped us push back the Krang, and regain some area and resources.”

“But it didn’t last for very long…” Mikey said dejectedly.

“No, I guess it didn’t, but maybe it gave us enough time and space to find another way to finish them off for good. We still have hope that we can turn things around. As long as there’s hope that we can fix things here in the present, we shouldn’t use time travel. That… time travel will be the last possible course of action, Okay?”

“Okay, as long as you promise me you won’t die too,” Mikey knew that Leo couldn’t really promise that. But he needed his brother. Needed to know he wouldn’t throw himself into danger recklessly in vengeance or self-sacrificially.

“I promise to do my best to stay alive, as long as you do too.” That was really the best he could ask for in the situation.

“Ha, I can do that.” Mikey huffed a laugh. He continued, “So ordering pizza via time travel is a last resort, huh?”

Leo laughed the first real good laugh Mikey had heard in a long time, “Is that what-“

“What you said 15 years ago when we first had the conversation about time travel? Yep!” Mikey popped the p.

“Oh real funny old man!” Leo laughed, and locked an arm around his younger brother and gave him a good noogie.

“Old Man! Have you seen the wrinkles you’ve got!” Mikey said, affronted, while he failed to wiggle out of the hold.

“Not as many as you! And all that grey hair!”

“Excuse you! This is not hair, NOR grey! And it makes me looked distinguished, thank you very much!” Mikey said with a flip of said hair. (It was actually algae that had grown while on his mystic journey with Draxum. He had been going to get rid of it, but the rolling laughter it gave Donnie at seeing the look of jealousy on Leo’s face, that Mikey got to have Hair when he didn’t… well, Mikey decided to keep it).

“It makes you look like an old man!” Leo laughed.

“You’re just jealous.” Mikey sang.

“I am not! I-“ Leo was interrupted by his communicator beeping.

“Sensei?” The high pitched voice of a 12 year old Casey asked, “Have you found Master Michelangelo yet?”

“OH RIGHT! Yeah Casey, I got him, be there in a minute!”

“Understood, Sensei!” The call ended. Mikey raised an eyebrow.

“What was that about? And Yeesh, that kid needs to relax. He knows he doesn’t have to call you that all the time right?”

“I’ve TRIED to tell him that! But the kid just won’t have it,” Leo sighed, throwing his hands up in the air, but he had a fond smile on his face. “And he made something he wants to show us, and I was supposed to come get you. We better get going.”

As Mikey followed his brother out of the room, he thought to himself, that as long as he had people he cared about, like his brother and Casey and April, around, that everything would be okay. He would keep looking forward.

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marauderundercover · 2 years

Text

In the Bedroom Down the Hall

Okay, so first of all, this is set in an alternate version of my fic ‘A Thousand Years’. It’s based on this song. And here are some possible TW: character death (child), thoughts of hopelessness (nothing comes from this, but the character is feeling very low)

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In the bedroom down the hall-

Marinette sits shakily on the edge of the bed, running a trembling hand over the comforter. The comforter that she had taken Damian to pick out. It had a picture of a cat on it. He’d been so excited, even though he’d tried to hide it. It was the typical excitement one would expect from a little boy, barely eleven. And Damian was anything but typical, for an eleven year old. Or any kid, really. But that day, the day Marinette was added as one of his legal guardians, Damian allowed himself to act like a kid. It was one of the only times she’d ever seen her little boy so happy, so care free. Because of course Bruce Wayne had to come back. Of course the man demanded everything back. He hadn’t been dead, afterall. Just lost in the time stream. But he’d wanted his life back. That meant the cowl and Damian. He’d expected her and Dick to fade into the background, maybe go back and live in Bludhaven. But she hadn’t given in.

Marinette didn’t care if Dick was Batman or Nightwing or no vigilante. And she didn’t care if Damian was Robin and Bruce Wayne’s biological son; he was just as much hers and Dick’s as he was Bruce’s. It was as simple as that. And now- Glancing at the cardboard box on the floor, Marinette forces herself to stand. She forces herself to move towards Damian’s closet, eyes catching onto one of his sweaters immediately. Grabbing it, she’s unable to stop her legs from giving out. From falling to the ground and clutching the sweater to her chest, wishing she could hold her baby one last time.

“You never liked this sweater. You said it never really fit you right and it itched too much. But I think I'll keep it, I should keep it.” Marinette says quietly, speaking to the sweater through her tears. “'Cause it still makes me think of you and that little boy I knew, in the bedroom down the hall.” Instead of placing the sweater in the box, she lays it on the bed gently. Stepping next to his desk, she gently brushes her fingers along his last painting. The last one he’d been working on before-

It was a portrait of their little family. Because her little boy had a phenomenal memory- a blessing and a curse- there wasn’t an actual picture anywhere of the memory from his head. Just a half finished painting, mostly line art that will never see completion. A memory from an artist who was only memories. Marinette’s heart clenches as she remembers the last month of his life. All of the fights and arguments- everything stemming from Bruce suddenly deciding to be a parent, despite everything she and Dick had done to try and reassure Damian that they wanted him. That they loved him.

“In the bedroom down the hall, we went to battle every evening after dinner. I thought I knew some way that I'd get through to you. Remember?” Marinette says, gently touching the smudged pencil lines that were supposed to be Damian. The lines that were supposed to add her baby into the picture. She ignores the spare domino mask peeking out from behind a picture frame on his desk. She didn’t care that he wanted to be a hero, she just wanted him safe. And happy. Her heart clenches as she remembers their last argument. He was so certain she was trying to keep him from being Robin. But that was never what she wanted. She would never try to take away something so important to him. But he was so desperate to please Bruce. To be the son that Bruce wanted him to be.

“We fought a war where no one walked away a winner, 'cause every day you pulled a little more away. Remember?” Marinette feels the tears running down her face, but doesn’t make a move to stop them. What was the point? “So the promises and the talks and the cures a mother tries. 'Cause maybe I could take away that sadness in your eyes.” Her eyes drift back to the sweater and she grabs it, clutching it as she sinks to the floor, back pressed against the bed. Holding the sweater as close to her as she possibly can, Marinette sobs.

Anything to make you happy. Anything at all. Anything for my boy in the bedroom down the hall. You try to give your kid the world, give him everything you've got. What if I gave all I could and I thought it was enough- but I find that it was not?

“Did I let you down?” She breathes out, shaking as she tries to find a way to breathe. As she tries to find even a sliver of meaning in her life. She wasn’t Damian’s biological mom, but he was still her little boy. How was she supposed to go on? How was she supposed to wake up every morning knowing that he was gone. That someone had stabbed her little boy. That he was no longer in his bedroom down the hall. That he would never be there again. Because he was gone. And there was no bringing him back. No miraculous cure to save her little boy. The little boy in the bedroom down the hall.

“What else can I do?” She screams, knowing that no one would hear her. No one that cared anyway. Dick was on patrol, and their neighbors had grown used to her sobs and screams. Her cries that they were wrong. That some cruel force hadn’t ripped her baby from her. Her screams as she begged someone, anyone, to take her instead. To give Damian a second chance. But just like her screams the first night didn’t bother her neighbors, her screams now didn’t bother anyone either. It was Gotham and as sick and twisted as it was, this part of the city was used to the cries of mothers. Of their begging and bargaining to a force that would never answer. Because their babies were gone too. As her tears slow, Marinette’s shoulders slump. Any energy she had when she first entered Damian’s room was gone. Any hope of being able to be in the room was gone, too. Pushing herself to stand, Marinette gently lays the sweater back on the bed. Legs shaking, she makes her way to the door, pausing and turning back to look. His room was the same as the night he went on patrol. That night, just over six months ago. The only change was the sweater on the bed, and the cardboard box in the middle of the room. Waiting. A small black blob appears in the room, worry clear on his face.

“I think I'll wait another day to pack these boxes.” Marinette tells Plagg, her voice cracking. “'Cause once I'm through, I'm left with just one thing to do.” She says, taking a deep breath as she leaves the room, her hands shaking as memories flood her mind. Because her little boy was gone. And now, all she could do, was remember.

Permanent tag list (open): @stainedglassm @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess @crazylittlemunchkin @buttercupsbitch @toodaloo-kangaroo

#maribat #dickinette #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat dick grayson #maribat bruce wayne #maribat bruce wayne is a jerk #maribat damian wayne #maribat dick grayson is damian wayne's parent #maribat marinette dupain cheng is damian wayne's parent #mentioned character death #maribat damian wayne is dead #hurt no comfort #maribat hurt no comfort #maribat angst #maribat song fic #maribat mominette

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