When Whumpee knows they've lost. There's nowhere left to run. They're cornered. Their escape attempt has failed. And Whumper hits them with a, "Are you going to come back willingly? Or do I need to drag you?"
being a teenage girl thru the rotten times of aheago hoodie femboy memes belle delphine begone thot attack helicopter should result in some kind of financial compensation if not the right to kill
[ more age swap Ranson inspired by a conversation with @riddler-apologist ]
chronically online older Randy feeling guilty for being a creep about his younger coworker. younger by ten years. Randy really only interacts with Benson -- otherwise spends all his time on message boards.
Randy gets off on dressing Benson for shifts at BBB. makes him stand there in the middle of the room naked while laying out his uniform piece by piece. Benson blushes dark red when Randy pulls the tighty whities out.
"Randy, no one wears these anymore."
"Shut up and put your leg through."
Randy tucks Benson's cock and balls neatly into the briefs, earning a slight sigh from the younger male. "Are you gonna fucking dress me up or grope me all day?"
"Would groping you all day be bad?"
Benson is quiet for a long moment. "No." He huffed.
"Didn't think so."
Randy helps him into the pants, tucking his shirt in before tightening his belt. He gives him a pat on the cheek.
"Gimme a big smile."
"Randy, c'mon, knock it off-"
"Benson, is it that hard?"
They stare at each other for a long moment until Benson complies and gives him that big cheesy grin he wants. Benson actually laughs. Of course he did, Randy knew what his boy needed. Randy gave him a slap on the ass and sent him out the door to work.
"I'm not hurting you, Whumpee," Whumper murmured as they gave Whumpee several gentle head pets. Then, when the poor thing couldn't quite calm down, their body still trembling and their breath held tight, Whumper roughly yanked them back against their chest by the hair to whisper in their ear.
"-but that will change if you don't calm the fuck down."
Im a big fan of the psychological torture method of acting normal and making your victim do normal, seemingly innocent things
Talking to them like normal is one of my favorites. You have them chained up or tied down, maybe you just got done beating them or raping them, and then suddenly youre asking if they've watched some show or if theyve ever tried some food, or youre telling them a funny story. Big fan of if they can't talk, and you're saying things to them that normally someone would respond to, but you dont acknowledge that they can't respond and you just keep talking
Another favorite is being nice to them. Just casual random niceness. Yeah you beat them every day, but you just went "oops, sorry" when you accidentally hit them while talking with your hands. You may have them locked in a basement, but you ask them what they want for dinner as if they live there willingly. You hit them so hard they throw up, and you hold their hair out of the way while they do. It'll fuck their head right up. And it just makes me happy to do it
Randy catches the flu somewhere along the line. they spend so much time in public places, restrooms and restaurants, touching gas pumps and doorknobs, it's a wonder they aren't sick more often. Benson's immune system is better than Randy's. he's not worried he's going to catch what he's got, it just sucks having to haul him around when he looks like death warmed over and feels even worse.
they stop in a town with no vacancies. they can't stay, but if Benson's gonna drive through the night he needs caffeine, and he should eat, and Randy hasn't eaten anything since yesterday, so they stop at a diner. it's always a diner. there's always a diner.
he gets them situated in a booth, makes nice with the waitress, smiles a little when she fusses over Randy and assures him the house chicken soup is a known cure-all. she promises to be back promptly with Benson's coffee and a juice for Randy.
"I'm cold," Randy mumbles, arms folded up across his body like a horror movie mummy. he looks like shit, pale and clammy, eyes pink-rimmed and wet. exhaustion hangs heavy on his face.
"what do you want, you want a jacket?" it's fucking June in fucking New Mexico. Benson doesn't have a jacket.
Randy nods miserably. sniffles, even. "yeah."
so now Benson needs to find a jacket.
he's running through the inventory of their belongings in his brain. he's got a button-up that's kinda heavy, might be enough. the trench coat would work, but Randy left it behind somewhere in Ohio. that sparks an idea by association.
"I'll be right back." he gets up before Randy can muster the strength to protest and goes out to the car.
it's buried in the backseat underneath all the other shit they've amassed over the last six months. he's washed it a couple times but he hasn't worn it again, not since the day they left Chalmette. that day is hard in his memory. end of his life, start of a new one. a highlight. a low point. tricky.
after the first time he put it through the laundry there was still blood stiff in the pockets. so he washed it again. and again. until all he felt when he tucked his hand inside was the softness of the fabric. until it no longer smelled like home.
still didn't feel right. so it ended up on the floor, forgotten. he's good at forgetting things. it's easier.
it's his favorite fucking sweater, though. and Randy is cold.
when he comes back inside there's a cup of coffee waiting for him beside a short stack and a plate of hashbrowns. Randy is meekly sipping his soup, looks up at him with sad eyes like a Bassett hound as he comes around the table.
"here." Benson hands him the sweater. "it's all we got."
Randy looks at it. looks at him. for a second, Benson thinks he might refuse. that day is hard. tricky.
he takes it. "thanks," he says, struggling to shrug it on in the narrow space of the booth. he almost spills his soup in the process, almost. "soft," he murmurs to himself, tugging the cuffs down over his skinny wrists.
"figure we go north," he says thickly. he takes a swig of coffee and washes it all down, clears his throat, and sets in on his hashbrowns. "been heading west for a while now. maybe we swing up through the Rockies. you wanna see mountains?" Benson wants to see mountains. fuck it, these days he wants to see everything. never knew the world was so big.
Benson hones in on his pancakes. he wants to get out of here. wants to get them gone. wants to find a bed he can tuck him into and let him sleep this off. he takes too-big bites and everything backs up in his esophagus.
he squints up at the TV mounted in the corner with a burning in his chest. their waitress stands underneath it, hands on her hips, watching intently as an infomercial for an automated produce slicer plays in technicolor.
he glances up from his food when he gets no response. Randy is crowded into the corner of the booth, arms folded, head against the wall, wrapped up in his sweater. asleep.
Benson looks at him for a long time with a tightness in his chest the coffee can't wash down. it's hard, sometimes, to look at him.
tricky.
the waitress comes by to refill his coffee and clucks like a mother hen when she sees Randy. "poor baby."
"soon as I'm done we'll be out of your hair," Benson assures her.
"no hurry, honey. we're a twenty-four hour establishment. that boy needs his rest."
Benson watches her walk away. glances around. there's nobody else on this side of the restaurant. Randy's barely touched his food. the waitress is right, he needs rest. he always seems to need the thing that Benson can't quite give him. he tries, though. and Randy lets him try.
he pushes his plate across the table. gets up and moves to the other bench. "hey," he says softly, tapping his arm before he takes his elbow and tugs him over.
Randy flinches awake, blinks dumbly, allows himself to be guided against Benson's shoulder. "sorry...I'm sorry...I'm tired. are we leaving?" he mumbles even as he nestles his face into Benson's neck.
"in a minute," Benson says. he slips an arm around his waist. the sweater is silky under his fingertips.
"okay." his feverish forehead presses hot against Benson's skin.
"you still cold?"
"no, I'm okay." he pulls the sweater tighter around himself. he's out like a light in seconds.
Benson sighs quietly through his nose. his fingers worry at a seam over Randy's ribs. he eats his hashbrowns left-handed.
a/n: thank you so much for the request! i’m so glad this game has gotten me out of my two-year hiatus TvT these prompts are from my prompt list. but feel free to send me any original ideas you may have!
prompts: “i’m serious!”/ “…you’re smiling.” • “how much did you drink?” • “i’m not that drunk!”
*cross-posted on ao3
“We’re closed.”
Eddie’s gruff voice called out, not even bothering to look up from the glasses he was polishing. He expected the wayward patron to leave, the familiar squeak of the door signaling their departure. What he didn’t expect was to hear a voice, one he’s grown to know as Beverly.
“I know, I know. But it’s… important?”
This garnered Eddie’s attention, as his eyes located the personified mini bar, he noticed another being. Slumped against Beverly, with all the poise of a fawn learning how to walk, was you. Immediately, a sense of both irritation and protectiveness washed over Eddie. He moved from behind the bar, making his way over. “What did you do?” He asked, his expression dark and stoic but his voice giving away his concern. Beverly shrunk slightly under Eddie’s fierce gaze, laughing nervously,
“Well.. they offered to help me test out some new drinks, right? So, we started with mocktails and gradually made our way to cocktails and it.. just… kept.. going?”
Eddie just stared and Beverly continued her spiel.
“I did eventually cut them off, obviously. But we were having so much fun and they were complimenting my drink making. And you know business has been slow and they’re literally my only customer–”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Eddie took a deep breath. “You couldn’t take them to Betty? Having them sleep it off is a better idea than taking them to another bar.” He stated. “They specifically asked for you and Volt. And I know you know how stubborn drunk people are.” Beverly explained, hoisting you up a little. While Eddie’s expression remained neutral, the subtle heat of his face flushing wasn’t lost on him. “Right. I guess we can–”
“Is that our live wire, I see?”
“Volt!”
For the first time since entering the Breaker Box, you spoke. Arms extending out as Volt approached, nearly face planting if it weren’t for him catching and holding you steady. As happy as he was to see you, Volt was perplexed by your drunken state. Normally, you never have more than two drinks with them so this was new. Volt looks at Eddie, a silent question in his expression. “Beverly had them test out several new drinks, many of which were alcoholic. Clearly.” Eddie stated, his sharp gaze never leaving Beverly. Another nervous chuckle escaped the minibar, “Haha, well I guess I better go. Bye!” And just like that she was gone.
Volt chuckled to himself, not taking this nearly as seriously as Eddie was. You could feel his laugh reverberate in chest, making you nuzzle into him more. Eddie just took in your state, as if contemplating on what to do next. “How much did you have to drink, hm?” Volt inquired, leaning his head down slightly to look you in the eye. You shrugged, meeting his gaze, “I dunno, like five? Six-ish?” You answered, your voice slurred. “They’re still coherent, that’s good.” Eddie commented, moving back to the bar to get, what you assumed is, water. Your bottom lip jutted out a bit and eyebrows furrowed, as Volt gently guided you to a booth.
“Don’t talk like ‘m not here.”
“Sorry.”
Once you sat down, Volt slid in the booth next to you, taking the glass of water Eddie handed to him and slid it in front of you. “Don’t take it personally, live wire. That’s Eddie’s way of showing he’s worried.” He explained. “I’m not worried. You had a few drinks, I don’t care. I’m more concerned about you drinking yourself into a state like this.” Eddie rebutted, deciding to stand rather than sit, subconsciously cracking his knuckles as he spoke. “What? ‘m not even that drunk!” You exclaimed, your voice way too loud considering the three of you were in close proximity to each other. “Right. Like you weren’t barely standing when Beverly brought you here. And damn near fell when Volt came over. Totally sober.” Eddie remarked, a sarcastic lit to his voice. Your brows furrowed once more as you looked off to the side, “You’re mean.” You comment, resting an elbow on the table along with your head in your hand.
Eddie scoffed in disbelief, looking to Volt for back up. “You are being a bit harsh, Eddie.” Volt added, a small smile still on his lips, clearly enjoying whatever this is. Eddie starts to speak before cutting himself off and sighing. He squats down on your side of the booth, a gentle hand taking residence on your knee. “Look. I don’t mean to be mean, I just– what if Beverly didn’t decide to escort you here? What if you decided to head here on your own? And you tripped on the stairs or something, breaking Skylar in the process. You could hurt yourself or worse and at the end of the day we’re still just objects. You would’ve been on your own.” Eddie stated, taking a breath. You hadn’t thought of that, though your thoughts were a bit scrambled in general at the moment. But, nevertheless, Eddie’s words resonated with you.
“You’re right, ‘m sorry for making you worry..”
“I’m not– it’s fine.”
Standing back up, Eddie gestures for you to scoot over and you oblige. Now sandwiched between the two, Volt slides the forgotten glass of water in front of you. “You should drink some, just to sober up a bit, yeah?” He suggests. You start to whine but Eddie isn’t having it, “Drink the water, it’s non-negotiable” He states, tapping the side of the glass. You huff and drink a tiny sip, drinking some more when Eddie gives you a look. “How are you feeling overall?” Volt hums, his arm draping over your shoulder and rubbing your arm a bit. “Tired, nauseous–” You start. “Don’t throw up.” Eddied interjected. “I wasn’t planning on it?” You reply, rolling your eyes.
Volt laughs at the banter, “That’s our live wire. You’re definitely feeling better if you’re giving Eddie an attitude” He comments. You sigh, leaning against Eddie, your eyes fluttering close. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your bed?” He asks, seemingly opposed but shifting to make you more comfortable. You say nothing, shaking your head as a response, turning to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. “You smell good.” You hum sleepily, inhaling his scent deeply. Sober you would be absolutely mortified by your drunk actions but that was a tomorrow problem. Volt snickered, coughing into his hand in a poor attempt to disguise it. He busied his hands, taking hold of your legs and lifting them up into his lap, stroking your calf gently as your breathing begins to even out.
Eventually, the pair felt your body relax completely, a clear indicator that you were asleep. “Should we take them to Betty?” Eddie asked quietly as his hand hesitantly came to stroke your side. “What? You don’t want to be their bed for the night?” Volt teased, smiling widely as a blush bloomed across Eddie’s face. “No. Skylar’s eventually gonna run outta charge and we have no idea of knowing when.” He stated, looking off to the side. “That’s true.. But do you really think they’re going to let us move them? They look mighty comfortable snuggled up next to you.” Volt chuckles, vaguely gesturing at your sleeping form. You were completely pressed against Eddie, face in his neck, one arm loosely wrapped around his waist, while your legs were resting on Volt’s lap. Eddie closed his eyes, huffing in response, he knew Volt was right.
“I didn’t finish closing.”
“Hm.”
“All that prep work is gonna be a bitch tomorrow.”
“Right.”
“But…”
“But?”
“I guess I don’t mind.. staying here… like.. this.”
This time Volt didn’t tease, just hummed slightly, acknowledging Eddie’s words. And so they sat, the two of them with you sandwiched in between them. “You know.. if this is the only way to get you to slow down and take a break, maybe our live wire should get drunk more often.” Volt commented, smirking slightly when Eddie groaned. “God no. They better not make this a habit, you’re both already enough to deal with sober. We don’t need to add alcohol in the mix.” He muttered. There was a brief silence before Volt spoke again. “You really care about them, hm?” Volt asked softly, knowing that being vulnerable wasn’t Eddie’s strong suit. Eddie stayed silent for a moment. “I mean, yeah. Don’t you?” He replied, the question rhetorical.
“Of course, I just didn’t know about all your worries, have you always felt like that?” Volt continued, his eyes somber. “Not always but recently.. I don’t know. I guess you can say they’ve grown on me. And it doesn't help that this house is so big and that they're so clumsy. Anything can happen and we’d be none the wiser.” Eddie explained, his eyes downcast as he continued to rub your side gently. He sighed deeply, looking as though admitting his worries took years off his lifespan. “I really didn’t mean to be so.. y’know? They can just be so careless sometimes and it’s concerning. But I could’ve chosen my words better.” He admits. Volt nods, “You’ve never been too good with people. But you’re good with them, you apologize and explain your reasoning. I think they understand and don’t hold it against you.” Volt replies, reaching over to pat Eddie’s shoulder.
A beep emanated from your glasses, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere, most likely indicating a low charge.
“I guess that’s our cue.” Eddie muttered, his grip on your shirt tightening slightly. “Do you want to take them or should I?” Volt asked, knowing that at least one of them should stay behind, just to keep an eye on the Breaker Box. Eddie lifted you off of him slightly, pausing as you mumbled something incoherent, before looking to Volt. “You can take them. I’ll stay here.” He answers. Volt gives him a look, almost as if to say, “Are you sure?” But Eddie waves him off. Volt gently moves your legs off him, moving to stand and swiftly takes you into his arms. Immediately, you're nuzzling into his neck next, as if your body craves that closeness. “I had no idea our live wire was so cuddly.” He comments, his head dipping down to kiss your forehead. Eddie says nothing as he stands as well, moving towards you and planting a chaste kiss on your cheek. Already feeling Volt’s stare and hundred watt smile, Eddie groans.
“Don’t say shit.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“But you want to.”
“Nope, I’m so serious about this.”
“...you’re smiling.”
And it was true, Volt was smiling, glad to know both of them have mutual feelings toward you. “I’ll be back.” He says, making his way to the entrance. Eddie nods silently watching the two of you leave. God, you were going to be the end of him.
The next morning, you woke up with the worst cotton mouth you’ve ever experienced to date. And the pounding in your head made it no better. You were for sure saying no to Beverly next time she offered bottomless taste testing. You turn over, placing your pillow over your face, in a poor attempt to block out the sun. You could just close Curt and Rod but if you got up, you were afraid the vertigo would hit you hard. Eventually, you removed the pillow, only to notice something on your nightstand. A glass of water, a small cup with three pills in it, and a note. Undoubtedly from Eddie and Volt, just from the tone alone.
Vaguely inspired by that one post where Danny gets summoned by the JL and keeps throwing his shoes and stuff at them bc HE might not be able to leave the summoning circle but his clothes sure can!
I think the twist for that was that the circle doesnt effect him at all because hes a halfa and he was just goofing with the JL.
But imagine if the summoning and containment WORKED.
Like, he gets summoned and its startling, but once he realizes hes been summoned hes mostly annoyed.
Its a school night! He has work to do! Sure he wasnt DOING it, but it was still a possibility!
And hes trying to banter with the JL. Which for him just means being vaguely-obnoxious-but-somewhat-charming.
But then he tries to leave.
Maybe hes worried about his friends reaction to seeing him disappear.
Maybe the JL are saying some anti ghost/demon/whatever they think he is nonsense.
Maybe he changed his mind about doing that homework.
But either way, it doesnt work.
He drags his hand along the edge of the spell. It doesnt give, and he realizes hes not sure what this spell is supposed to do.
Its all along the floor beneth him, he cant fly through the floor.
He tries to get away from the walls and floor, worried whatever spell makes up the container can be triggered to hurt him or brainwash him or SOMETHING.
Its not his best guest, but he has never been summoned before, at least not with this type of barrier, and he doesnt know what to expect.
He barely gets a few feet off the ground when he hits the spells invisible roof.
And he is trapped.
And now this fourteen year old child is caged in a room with clearly dangerous adult strangers.
After hes been more or less kidnapped.
He’s suddenly regretting insulting them.
And its not his first time beimg kidnapped. Or his first time being in danger in general (obviously).
but its usually some ghost! Or Vlad “Loser, I hardly know her!” Masters!
Both of whom explain literally everything they plan in long ass evil monologues! It usually takes danny five minutes tops to learn their entire life story Dr Doofenshmirtz style!
He knows most of them personally! They hang out sometimes! Heck! even the local ghost hunters are either literally related to him or someone he’s dated!
He knows their powersets, their strengths, their weaknesses.
Most importantly, he knows their goals
But now hes trapped. In a room of clearly superpowerd strangers. With magical abilities strong enough to trap him for real.
And has no idea what they want
And Danny just freezes up
This could be super angsty if the JL were told that he was evil and think his panic + young features are only done to manipulate them.
You can also add angst with a language barrier/translation issue
I imagine the JL would be trying to get information about ghosts/ are trying to get someone to fight a villain they can’t defeat
Its going to scare the shit out of Danny either way- like imagine fourteen year old you gets kidnapped by strangers and they start asking you about your weaknesses or say they will only let you out if you agree to fight this monster.
And if Danny doesnt know this villain or how tf hes going to fight them he might feel like hes being sent off to get his ass kicked.
I can just imagine Danny being told he has to fight this supervillain and being like “…if i like..die…trying to fight this guy…what are you going to do with my body? Like will you send me home? Cause my family will freak if my corpse is teleported into the living room”
JL would not be happy about any of his responses.
Im begging someone to write this please have a nice day
He watched as Constantine finished the chalk circle, double checking all the little symbols and lines. It was more intricate than what Batman would have thought, but he only dabbled in magic when necessary; able to perform it sure but didn’t have a talent for it. “You’re sure this will work?”
“I’m sure it’ll summon the protector spirit and keep it contained until we can explain the situation.” Constantine answered. “Alright, stand back.”
The circle began to glow.
Off in the distance, Batman could hear the fight that was still ongoing. A cult that worshiped a deity of death had managed to summon a being known as The Ghost King. His forces only had a handful of standout powers, but the rest were undead skeletal being that pulled themselves back together after being downed. They needed to take out the King in order to stop the hoards, but the hoards prevented enough of them to get to the King to really fight him. Superman might have been able to save the day if their enemy wasn’t magic based. Wonder Woman came in on her day off, but she couldn’t handle both the King and the Fright Knight.
Constantine had conveniently remembered that while the Ghost King that had all but taken over a dimension known as the Infinite Realms, was defeated twice. First by a counsel of ancients no one remembered the identities of, and when he’d been released by some fool looking for power, was defeated by a singular protector spirit with a known name.
The circle suddenly burst into a pillar of flame and in the center of it stood a singular being.
He tilted their head at Constantine and looked annoyed. There was an echo to his voice, layered over itself in what Batman recognized as a translation spell, the original language echoed by the translation. “Wow, can’t say I was expecting to get summoned by I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Not-A-Conman and a living Spirit Halloween costume tonight, but here we are.”
Batman looked at Constantine. “That looks like a teenager.”
“Protector spirits like to either look big and scary or like someone you’re more likely to trust.” Constantine shrugged. “It does seem really into the role though.”
“Hey, fellas,” the spirit waved his hand to get their attention, “it’s a school night and I’ve got homework to ignore. So lets get this sleepover over with.”
“You really a protector spirit? They tend to be more…” Constantine waved his hand in a circle and started walking around the magic circle, examining the ghost. “…pleasant to talk to.”
The ghost squinted at him, “Then you must have the wrong guy! I'll just leave-” He walked up to the warding wall and tried to walk through it. He hit it and stared at it, then pressed his hand against it and was clearly trying to get through it.
“Not going to work, mate.” Constantine said and came to a stop in front of where the ghost was trying to get out. “Even if you’re not the spirit we were aiming to summon, you can’t leave until we say so.”
The ghost looked far too convincingly panicked. He tried to claw through the spell, push his feet through the floor, and tried to fly up just to be knocked back by the containment spell’s lid.
Constantine must have sensed Batman’s misgivings, because he said, “Don’t worry, the containment will hold.”
“That’s not what has me worried.”
“Yeah, yeah, I bungled the spell and got the wrong guy…” Constantine gave him a tilted smile to hide his disappointment in himself. “Or maybe this trickster spirit thought it would be funny to disrupt my summoning. Either way, we’re wasting time with Pariah Dark out there destroying the world.”
Batman was about to add that he was also uncomfortable with a being that looked like a kid, and on the slightest chance might actually be a kid, looked like they were on the verge of a panic attack.
“Pariah?” The spirit stopped and stared at them with wide eyes, glowing toxic green, and seemingly on the verge of tears.
Constantine nodded, “Yeah, we were trying to summon the protector spirit that defeated him a while back, but we got you instead.”
The kid looked like he just got slapped in the face. “I – no, you got the right guy. I’m Phantom.”
“You?” Constantine asked with an air of disbelieving condescension. “You’re the protector spirit that defeated Pariah Dark?”
“I had some help.” Phantom replied. “Is that what you want? You’ll let me go if I fight Pariah again?”
Constantine looked between Phantom and Batman – thought Batman didn’t do or say anything, paranormal negotiations were why Constantine was there. “Yeah, that’s exactly what we want.”
Batman watched the looks on Phantom’s face, he was terrified but resigned. He glanced between the two of them. “Okay.”
For centuries, the royal family has survived by transferring conciousness into clones when the throne became old and infirm. These clones are traditionally newborns, but you--for whatever reason--lived long enough to know and question what was happening.
Worlds Worst Writer @notes-app-fanfic - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
gracieabrams
germansingergirl
2087
yousharknotpass
titsay
blakekathryn
baratheonpilled
discoholicmusic
kianamaiart
