#broken bones tw

[breadnbutterplz]

Tried drawing Adam in my fuckass scenecore artstyle

TW: FAKE BLOOD, FAKE BOKEN BONES

MY BONES HURT LMAO(yes it’s a reference off that one blinker thing)

Divider made by@kodaswrld

Base from Pinterest

[inthecemetery]

nah cause i do want this version of peter to have accidentally killed harry/goblin, he just keeps hitting, doesn't pull his punches, harry's throwing gwen's death in his face and he just loses it. he only snaps out of it when he hears a loud crack that sounds nearly like gwen's spine when it broke and then realises harry isn't moving any more

[experiment1170]

@one00six

chest heaved laboriously for breath, mind clawing back up to consciousness. this pain would not stop him. broken bones, blood loss, would not stop him.

no matter how much his damaged body ached as he dragged it through the vents, he could not rest. he knew what happened to broken toys down here, in the depths of the factory. they were eaten alive. they were remade.

his was an angry deity, and the only reward that lay ahead in death was to be made an example.

huggy was also very angry, and growing increasingly angrier the more times he nearly passed out or had to swat away another toy from his wounds. his left arm was useless, any attempt to employ it in the endeavor of heaving his body or fending off scavengers eliciting a lance of agony all throughout his starved, damaged form.

he'd done what he could to pull himself together. to continue the hunt. but he was rapidly losing steam, having to stop for breath more times than he ever ought to.

would he really have to beg for his life? to be fixed?

and, more uncertainly,

would the prototype even agree to spare a failure?

[squishablesunbeam]

Can you crush Quinn’s fingers :((( pretty please

From your lips to gods ears!!!

It would have to be an au and I'd have to pull my head out of this perpetual fog but GUH!!!! I would love to so so much! His fingers are very long and pretty and so very snapable 😏 the way he'd always be trying to protect his fingers from that point forward, but the way they would still pull his hands away from his body and tie them to the bedpost, all exposed and vulnerable!

Or or! He could get them crushed in some accident on the ship post rescue! He'd have to confront dealing with immense, shocking pain after he thought that was finally over for him. He'd have to deal with being in a cast and having to be taken care of again.

Honestly, I think it might actually be good for him, having a fresh physical trauma that is completely unassociated with anything the crew did to him. Maybe he'd wear those scars with a little more confidence and eventually the others would follow suit ♥️ (Quinn's over here shaking his head over my shoulder going, nope, no thank you, I don't need that, I'll figure it out on my own thank you very much 😆)

BUT I broke Collins' fingers if that counts 🥺 I mean, it's not written or anything lol but it totally happened!!

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2025. Day 14. Becoming the monster.

OC Demon (he him)

Content: Gore, death, bodily fluids, guns, trappers/slavers, broken bones, its/its pronouns (positive), being hunted, being drugged, loss of autonomy, concussion, punctured lung, trouble breathing, (let me know if I missed any)

—-

The net clung to his skin like a web of hands holding him down. He was pinned against the hard ground, gravel and twigs scraping against his exposed back.

Human feet marched all around him, holding nets.

Turning his head to the side, he saw the mesh being tossed onto scrambling imps. Some of the imps who attempted to float away had traps thrown on them midair. They were falling all around Demon like birds dropping from the sky. They fell hard and landed with incredible thuds.

The hunters dragged the imps across the ground towards a pile of cages that sat on top of carts. The imps kicked and struggled against the nets but it just caused them to become more tangled. They couldn’t free themselves on their own.

Their screams pierced through Demon’s ears, but he couldn’t move fast enough to help them. The rope around him constricted him even more every time he tried to move. He felt a harsh prick on the side of his arm, made by a human hovering over him. He jerked his arm sideways with a growl, almost throwing the person off of him, and looked to his side to try to see his imps better.

His eyes focused on the one that was crying in broken bursts. A boot was stomping down on it repeatedly and the poor imp couldn’t even shield its face to protect itself. Blood burst from the imp’s nose, and seeing this sent a surge of energy into Demon’s body. The rage he felt was unbearable.

All of his adrenaline streamed to his muscles, and he ripped a part of the net loose from him. His arm became free, and he swung it back. Feeling a soft tissue of a person’s middle collide with his forearm.

He sent the hunter flying across the yard, and when they landed, they didn’t get up.

Demon screamed deep from his lungs. He ripped the net completely loose, and anyone who tried to grab at him, he toppled over like a line of dominoes.

The one who was kicking the helpless imp had long stopped, frozen in place while watching Demon stand up to his full height. He easily towered over any of the humans there.

In half of a second, Demon had broken the distance between the hunter and himself. He grabbed the hunter by the head and smashed their face into the ground. The human’s skull shattered like a vase under his palm. Their brain matter squished through his fingers, hot and wet.

That hunter was never going to hurt his imps again.

A hard, piercing slap smacked against his back, again and again. He turned around and grabbed the hunter wielding the puny, weak gun. He ripped their arm clean out of the socket, then kept pulling. The human’s arm tore away from their shoulder. Blood squirted out, and tendons barely clung together in strings of flesh. Their screams drowned with the rest of the deafening noise.

He threw that person hard against another while blood sprayed across several more. Including himself.

He whipped several of them down into the dirt with his tail at the same time as swinging at another bunch of them with his arm. The smart ones didn’t try to get up after they were slammed to the ground.

In the second of a pause. When no one else was attacking him. He jumped to the injured imp in the net. He ripped the mesh trap into pieces, freeing the imp from its place. The imp appeared concussed, its eyes fluttering in and out of focus.

Demon nudged it, pushing it to get up but it wouldn’t. He called to it, but it barely moved its head. A gurgling sound was coming out of its lungs. It was acting as if Demon wasn’t even there. Demon let out another primal scream, swinging his head back to the humans. They did this.

He charged them, striking some with his shoulder, and stomping down on their legs to break them. Feeling the crunch of bone under crushed flesh. He grabbed another person and twisted their head backwards with the bone snapping quickly out of place. He threw that person into another.

When he turned around and reached for the next victim he saw a very small hunter. They couldn’t have looked older than twenty. They were shaking in their boots with tears streaming down their face. Their weapon dropped at their feet. Their pants soaked.

When Demon reached for them, they jerked backwards with a desperate cry for help.

He hesitated.

He was covered in hot sticky blood, reaching for what he would consider a child, in intent to harm them. All while his imps were still scattered about trapped in the nets. The look in their eyes were the same, this human and his frightened imps.

His hesitation was enough for the humans to throw a second net over him. One with barbed wire and weights that cut into his blood soaked skin.

He screamed in ancient tongue while fighting against it. The barbed wire hooking and dragging his skin into jagged open wounds.

His energy was depleting.

It couldn’t be that he tired himself out… It was something more. Something the humans did to him. His tail whipped around uselessly, not hitting anything except getting snagged on the barbs. Cutting flesh open and spraying blood around while he thrashed uselessly.

The imps were crying for him. So many voices overlapping, calling for help, calling for him to help them.

The imps were crying for him, and he was useless. He was fading. He couldn’t save all of them.

How many got away? Was his outburst enough to save a few of them? He wouldn’t find out. Sounds were narrowing, his vision was tunneling. The last thing he could remember was being dragged across the blood mixed mud while the barbwire hooked deeper and deeper into his skin.

[nerdpoe]

In the Shadow of Speculation Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, Ao3

The chapter TW blood tw broken bones tw description of a flashback abled verbiage tw self hatred tw (mild) forced parenthood equivalent (but in a ghost culture way.)

Ellie peeked at her older brother from behind her physics textbook.

Danny was surrounded by notes, a treatise on ancient magic’s uses in modern medicine spread out in front of him. He’d been studying it longer than she had, and showed no signs of stopping.

Frostbite had not only been delighted to teach Danny medicine, but he’d taken it so seriously that apparently, her older brother had involuntarily signed up for basically ghost college.

Ellie felt a thrill at being able to share the experience with him.

She knew it had bugged him, to miss out on going to college at the same time as his friends.

But!

She was now going to college at the same time as Danny! So it was up to her and whoever she chose to share the college experience with him!

She’d drag Danny to all the keggers! She just…had to find them first. The one’s without drugs, or the ending with a shoot-out thing.

“Ellie,” Danny interrupted her thoughts, and she realized she’d been staring directly into his eyes for a bit, “How about we take a break? I found a recipe for those cranberry-almond bread crisps things you like from Costco.”

Ellie felt her jaw drop.

There was a recipe for that?

Before she could pull herself together enough to answer, Danny was already laughing and standing up.

“It’s the first batch I’ve ever made, but you seem to like them enough to tell me if I did it wrong.”

Ellie quite literally tripped over her own feet following him to the kitchen, only to stare reverently at the tupperware he presented to her.

Then she dug in, of course, because her job was to taste test and she took that job very seriously.

The score was: perfect.

They weren’t exactly the same, but they were homemade, which made them better automatically.

Ellie sat on the counter and enjoyed her snack as Danny puttered around the kitchen, making actual lunch.

His big brother instincts hit hard when they hit, and it looked like Ellie was going to have some leftovers going home with her. Danny tended to…overcompensate.

Which was stupid, because his ages didn’t change him being her bro.

“…You know you’re my brother no matter what, right?” Ellie asked between mouthfuls of baked goods, “Like, I don’t care what age you are or what form you’re in; you’re my brother.”

Danny slowed down.

Then he started for the flour.

Ah, fuck. He was going to bake away his feelings again.

“Danny wait, please, I only have so much room in my pantry and fridge-“

~~~~~~

Alfred paused in front of the hallway mirror.

Mask firmly in place? Check. Amulet against scrying? Check. Special jacket meant to act as a talisman against offensive magic? Check.

He was as ready as he would ever be to enter the same room as the Justice League Dark.

The butler pushed the trolley into the elevator and began his descent.

He had to admit to himself, he was…curious. Normally, Master Bruce did not allow the Justice League Dark into the Cave.

It wasn’t his place, he knew that, but something quite serious must have happened for them to be allowed so close to Master Bruce’s home.

In fact, his employer hadn’t even had time to specify if it was the entire Justice League Dark or just a few people from it. Master Bruce had just dropped everything-quite literally-and made for the Cave.

The elevator made a soft chime as it reached it’s destination, and the door opened.

Alfred pushed out the trolley, completely silent.

It was meant for the cave; cushioned wheels, rubber padding to absorb the little bumps.

Which meant that Constantine had absolutely no idea Alfred was standing behind him, waiting for him to stop talking so he could offer refreshments.

“Bats, you don’t bloody understand; our entire dimension was nearly wiped out!”

“I would love to understand. You won’t explain. A text message saying the world was about to end was not explaining, it was fear-mongering. This entire conversation could have been an email.”

Constantine threw his hands up.

“Phantom was holdin’ the Infinite Realms back! An entire dimension, Batman! It’s denizens are built for combat, and if Phantom decides to turn from small-time villain theft to Actual World Ending events, that’s it! End game! Is that email material for you?”

Master Bruce grunted.

“Five years ago, mate, five bleedin’ years ago your government nearly buggered all of us. So yeah, alright, allow me to explain; how did this slip by you? You? The great Detective?”

“We were unaware-“

“Mate I cannot begin to explain how little that matters to spirits and demons strong enough to be gods.”

“Constantine, we are taking measures to ensure this does not happen again.”

“We need to do more than that, Bats; I’m sayin’ we need to…to do something to get their trust! Get on Phantom’s good side, turn ‘em to the side of good, whatever it-“

“Phantom is on the Justice League Roster, Constantine. He’s on the list of potential allies in emergencies, and we have already established a good relationship with him. He’s not actually a villain, he’s a trainer for young heroes. You would know this if you kept up with that list.”

The ‘like you’re supposed to’ went unsaid.

Constantine opened his mouth. Closed it. Pulled out his phone and frantically pulled something up.

Dropped the phone.

Stood there staring at his own hand as he processed what he realized everyone had known but him.

Alfred took advantage of his distraction to place a cup of tea into the man’s hand.

“Perhaps you should sit down, sir,” the Butler suggested.

Constantine drank the entire cup of tea in one go and sat on the floor.

~~~~~~

Dan crossed his arms and stood his ground, careful to keep his face blank as he stared at Danny.

“You know you can’t do this in human form,” Dan sighed, “So the costume needs to be for the ghost one.”

“I think I can do great in human form-“

“It’s not healthy to keep your other state of being locked away, Runt. Plus, it’ll make it a hell of a lot harder to pinpoint who you are.”

“…I don’t want to.”

Dan felt steam hiss out of his nostrils, and tried to reign in his temper.

Ellie stepped in while he calmed down.

“C’mon, Danny! Please? Please, please, please? It’s super cute c’mon!”

Danny’s face turned red as he tried to deny that, covering his face as he sank down on the couch.

Dan carefully did not mention that Ellie was…kinda right. Dan was possibly biased due to fucked up ghost instinct, though.

“Danny,” Dan said quietly, “Robin was thirteen when I squared off against him, and he was really the only threat out of all those kid heroes. It’s fine; no one will bat an eye.”

This was important. The little Twerp would get more to feed his obsession if he was in ghost form while he did it, and it would give him time to actually be in his other form.

Both things he’d been trying to avoid.

But Dan was, as usual, willing to be the Bad Guy for Little Him.

Danny’s face grew redder.

The kid sighed.

A flash of light filled the room.

And a twelve year old looking ghost kid in a hospital shift sat in his place. The prosthetic, meant for an adult man, flopped to the side, unable to stay on the leg far too small for it.

Ellie made a soft, cooing trill and started patting at his hair.

Dan bravely held his own chirp in.

Danny, for his part, glared at his hands.

“Alright kid, let’s get you suited up,” Dan said after composing himself, instinct screaming at him to coddle the Twerp.

He wouldn’t do that, naturally.

It wasn’t like Danny was actually his kid, and neither of them would know how to recover from a lapse like that.

He turned away from the pouting kid on the cough and went into said kids bedroom instead, finding the prosthetic for his ghost form hidden in the back of his closet.

Dan frowned.

Hidden away like it was, that shit was indicating Little him hadn’t even tried to transform since he’d gotten to Gotham.

That…was so unhealthy. It was probably going to set back his recovery if he kept it up.

He’d have to ask Red Hood to keep tabs on how often the new Medic-hero went out, so he’d be able to chart how often he was transforming.

He knew the kid had issues with…well, all of it. His time as a core had reversed his age, and he’d only stopped regressing a year after Dan had left him with Frostbite. As far as Danny knew, he’d fallen unconscious a sixteen year old and woken up as a ten year old.

His mortal body had continued to age, chained by the constraints of the Timeline. So when he did transform, he was going from one form to a drastically different one.

Dan knew that the changes were probably extremely uncomfortable.

Dan also knew that he’d pushed far enough that night, convincing Tiny to transform against his will.

So he opted to say nothing about it to Danny, instead focusing on attaching the tiny prosthetic to the tiny leg.

“Decided to go apocalyptic style,” Dan hummed, testing the edges to ensure it was aligned properly, “Modified gas mask, only on the lower face, goggles optional, basic kevlar, medical satchel from the Far Frozen, all black, no identifiers.”

“Yeah, about that; are you sure you don’t wanna put like, a red cross or something?” Ellie cut in, her patting stopping as she leaned over their tiniest sibling.

Danny shook his head, a pout that Dan pretended not to notice on his face.

“No; identifiers work both ways, villains would be more likely to target me.” 

“Smart; keep them off your back long enough to move people out of the way. And what’s the plan if you get dragged into a fight?” Dan asked mildly, leaning back and looking up into a face that was far too young.

“End it.” Danny’s face was far too young to look that serious and dead-eyed, and Dan’s core lurched at letting a weak and injured ghostling free to enter into fights already.

“Not in a way that’ll hurt you, though,” Ellie sang as she danced towards the kitchen to raid Danny’s fridge.

The serious look faded, and Dan’s core eased a little.

“Don’t worry, I’ll dip as soon as I can.”

Dan nodded and stood up, reaching down to help the kid up.

“Well, get the fuck out of your own house then. Time to get to work.”

Danny gave him a shit-eating grin and tugged the gas mask into place, already fading from view.

~~~~~~

Danny floated down the streets of Crime Alley, not even bothering to hide himself with invisibility.

He’d already performed triage on bystanders in a gang fight, set a muggers broken leg and ensured he knew the physical therapy he’d need to prevent it from becoming a chronic issue, and had gone over pretty much every homeless kid checking for lice or sickness, and treating it as he saw signs of either.

He was loathe to admit it, but Dan had been right. Doing acts of ‘protection’ while in ghost form fed his core far more than doing it in human form.

It was just.

He just.

His hands were too small.

His voice was too high.

He was too vulnerable.

The shadows were too big, too dark, and he hated it when they turned off the lights, he could never see what they’d done to him this time-

“Hey, new supes-you’s a medic, right?”

Danny blinked, and he was standing on a sidewalk in Crime Alley while a concerned Prostitute stared down at him.

He shook himself.

“Yea, do you need treatment?” Danny winced a bit as his voice cracked, and he clutched at his bag a little tighter.

Her eyes bored into his own as she searched for something, before her expression got softer.

“Me’n some of th’ girls were boutta turn in, but Joanne had some rough Johns t’night. Need some bones set and some stitches. You game?”

Danny tilted his head, assessing her.

She was not lying.

He allowed his body to deny gravity and floated up, nodding.

The woman led him to one of the better hotels in Crime Alley, and Danny caught a glimpse of a rather large man shouting at some other men.

From the pieces of conversation he could gather, that man was Joanne’s pimp, and he was ultra-pissed that she’d been hurt.

The woman in front of him gave a short whistle, and when the man’s head turned towards her she held a finger to her lips.

Her other hand made some sort of subtle gesture, but it wasn’t ASL and Danny had no idea what it could have meant.

It must have meant some variation of ‘calm down’, though, as the man stopped yelling, and even went so far as to keep a respectful distance from Danny as he was tugged past older man.

The yelling didn’t start up again until the door to the hotel closed behind him.

Then Danny was taken to Joanne, and…she could probably do with a hospital instead of some kid hero.

Multiple lacerations, visibly broken arm and fingers-it wasn’t pretty. But Danny had seen worse.

His right hand made an involuntary fist before he stretched out his fingers.

“She ain’t comf’table with hospitals,” Danny’s guide explained quietly, “If we don’ treat her here, she’ll jus’ treat it herself at home, an’ we all know that won’t end well.”

Danny let out a small breath through his nose and stepped forward.

“Hello, I’m just a medic, but what are you okay with me treating tonight?”

~~~~~~

There was a new hero in the Alley.

Well, sort of.

The kid was clearly a Meta of some sort, but he was only focused on medical treatment.

Jason was also pretty sure he wasn’t a Super.

He’d know that glowing white hair anywhere, and the kids blue-ish complexion and pointy ears?

Nah, this was clearly Phantom’s kid.

Shortstack was older than he’d thought he would be, but Jason wasn’t an ectobiology expert; he had no idea how Infinite Realms Beings worked.

But this one wasn’t Phantom, that much he was sure of.

He felt the temperature drop, just enough to be unnatural.

“Your kids doin’ good work.”

Phantom hummed in agreement, slowly filtering into the visible spectrum beside Jason.

“Why Gotham, though?”

Phantom tensed.

Jason waited.

He was patient like that.

“The kid’s…sick. He can’t fight like I can, not yet.”

Jason couldn’t help but feel relief at that admission, if he was being honest with himself.

“But he’s a protection spirit. He has to protect, or he’ll do the ghost equivalent of starve.”

“Okay, alright; so have him help people and protect them as something that wouldn’t draw too much negative attention.” Jason nodded, starting to see the full picture.

“Yeah, and Gotham’s got uh…good ghost juice. For ghosts. You wouldn’t really get it, it’s a ghost thing.”

Jason turned to face the intimidating War Machine of an anti-hero, only to find the man wearing a perfectly serious expression.

He’d really just let that abomination of words tumble out of his mouth with a completely straight face.

“Fine, I get what you’re really here for. We’ll watch out for him.”

“Bats might have an issue.”

“Fuck Batman, a medic is a good idea.”

“No, I was saying if he had an issue that you should point him to me.”

Jason let out a wordless hum, watching the tiny head of glowing white hair bobbing on the streets below them.

“You think you could win against the Bat?” 

“In my previous world I not only won against him, but I murdered his friends and family. Yes, I can win against the Bat.” Phantom drawled, truth in every word he said.

Truth, and regret.

“Damn, threat received loud and clear. I’ll tell Batman where he can take his complaints, then.”

They tailed the kid for a bit, and Jason watched as Heather broke the kid out of a flashback on her way to Leslie's.

Heather, smart woman she was, recognized what was happening and did what Heather was prone to do; take immediate steps to help someone in need.

She distracted the kid.

Flashed the sign for ‘inside voices’ at Cody to make him shut up, and got the kid off the streets and away from those who would have taken advantage of Phantom’s protege’s lapse in concentration.

Phantom was a tense livewire next to him, energy shimmering at his fingertips.

“He started out in Crime Alley, Phantom, and we watch out for our own. He’ll be safer here than he would in Bristol.”

Phantom forced himself to nod, and with a deep, shaking breath the energy dissipated.

“…I guess I’ll just have to leave him to it, then.”

Jason watched the man turn away and leave stiffly, and found himself wishing Bruce had enough trust to do the same for his own children.

Then he shoved the thought from his mind and turned his attention back to the hotel; he had a toddler ghost to babysit.

[theherosvillain]

Motherhood

A non-canon character study of Vivienne Thorn

Once I’d finished tying the rope, I sat back on my heels and sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”

Wren was going to have quite a nasty bruise on his cheek, and if he kept squirming like that, he’d add rope burns to his list of minor wounds. He pushed himself nearly-upright with one elbow, falling sideways against the wall, unable to catch himself with his wrists and ankles tied. He glared at me with slightly unfocused eyes. I maintained the notion that it was a shame to keep him drugged up like this, but admittedly, he did look rather cute—hopelessly dependent. “You could let me go,” he snarled through gritted teeth, “you sick fucking—”

I smiled and shook my head. “You’re too smart to keep trying that one.” I shuffled over and picked him up bridal-style, rising to my feet. He was so easy to toss around, too; it was a wonder he’d survived as a solo villain for as long as he had.

“Put me down!” he whined, uselessly trying to ram his shoulder into me. A framed picture fell off the wall and cracked, and I sighed. Really, the only issue here was that there wasn’t a specific power-suppressant for telekinesis. All I could do was give him a careful dose of sedatives, keeping him awake enough to function but not clear-headed enough to use his powers. I was keenly aware how much of a danger he’d be if I allowed the drugs to wear off.

Tiring of his useless struggle, Wren went boneless, head lolling back to avoid touching my shoulder. “We can’t keep doing this,” he muttered, still slightly breathless. Then he flicked his eyes up at me. “I mean, youcan’t keep me here forever.”

I hummed as I carried him down the hall and back to his bedroom. His little escape attempt hadn’t even gotten him downstairs, but the fact that he’d left his room at all was a problem. I shouldered the door open, noting the line of broken locks on the doorframe. I would be proud of his tenacity if he wasn’t employing it against me. “Well, you’re right about that first part, love,” I said, plopping him down on the sturdy four-poster bed. He wriggled up to a sitting position as I stood in front of him, hands planted on my hips. “I’d rather not have to hurt you, Wren, but you’re leaving me with very few options.”

He huffed, falling back against the headboard. “I’m not making you do anything,” he spat.

I brushed his unruly hair from his forehead, and he flinched like I’d burned him. I cupped his chin, leaning in close. “Contrary to what you might believe, darling, I don’t enjoy seeing you like this.” A white lie, but he’d never know the difference, would he? “There are worse people out there than me, you know. You’ve had too many near misses not to realize that you can’t survive out there on your own.”

He jerked away. “Fuck you!”

I withdrew my hand, pursing my lips. I’d thought he would settle in after a few weeks, but clearly it was going to take longer than that. In the meantime, I’d have to find some way to keep him put. I left the room, not bothering to shut the door—the ropes would keep him occupied until I returned.

When I was a teenager, I spent a summer at a farm upstate. It was dreadful—I’d always preferred the glitz and opulence of the city; I didn’t belong anywhere near a barn. But I learned a few things that summer. When the farmhands brought a new cat to the barn, right after they took it out of the carrier, they’d put butter on its paws. The theory was that, instead of running and hiding, potentially getting lost in the woods, the cat would be distracted by licking off the butter, and by the time its feet were clean, it would be accustomed to its environment and wouldn’t feel the need to bolt. It had worked like a charm; the new cat settled in just fine.

Now, I didn’t have that exact sort of fix for a human teenager, but I did have a few last-ditch ideas about how I could get Wren to stay put long enough to get used to me. I’d just been hoping I wouldn’t have to use them.

I stepped back into the bedroom, and the blood drained from Wren’s face. “No. Nonono, Vivienne, please—”

The hammer was heavy in my hands as I wandered up to the bedside. I didn’t want to do this any more than he wanted me to, but he’d brought it upon himself. He began trying to squirm away, and I pinned his shoulder to the bed. He didn’t have the strength to resist, but he still kept trying. Oh, the poor thing … “Stay very still,” I said, rubbing my thumb over his shoulder as I rested the hammer’s head against his shin. “I want this to be a clean break.”

His chest heaved. He sounded like he was about to throw up. “Vivienne, please, I won’t try to run anymore, I’m sorry, you don’t have to—”

I chuckled. “You’re an excellent liar, sweetheart. I suppose you got that from me. I know you’ll try to run the moment you’re untied again, and I just can’t have that. So please, stay still.”

It should have been hard to break my child’s leg. But it was as easy as fixing a loose board: just a task that needed to be done. Through the wailing and writhing and begging, I ensured that both legs fractured neatly. I splinted each leg so they’d heal properly. Only then did I untie him.

I sat on the edge of the bed and wiped the tears from his cheeks. His eyes were vacant now, but the occasional sniffling sob still escaped his lips. “Oh, you poor thing,” I cooed.

He didn’t miss a beat. “I h-hate you.”

My lips twitched upwards. He always managed to surprise me. “That’s okay, darling,” I said, stroking his sweat-soaked hair. “That’s perfectly natural.”

Some part of him would always hate me: for this, for abandoning him as an infant, for giving birth to him at all. But he’d grow to love me, too. I couldn’t make up for any of it, but I would kiss his wounds and take care of him, even though he’d never forgive me. That was just what it meant to be a mother.

[liarvibe]

"Why did you lie to me?" with the twins?

The Sacrifices You've Made

Kurochi goes on a summer trip to take a college course on coding. He comes back to find out he had been lied to.

Read the full version on Ao3!

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Kurochi was waiting by himself at the train station when he got a notification.

The twins weren't usually separated, so he had already been on edge. Kokichi and the rest of D.I.C.E. had already said their goodbyes as they saw him off to the train station, all of them acting a little over dramatic for what amounted to be a sort of summer college course on coding. Kokichi had been the most dramatic, of course—but he insisted that Kurochi had to go and "fulfill his summer camp dreams", whatever that meant.

Still, they had left him alone at the train station after a while, and Kurochi had a lot of time to kill. Unfortunately, his phone was almost dead, and his portable gaming devices weren't enough to kill his nerves.

So when he got the notification from the family group chat, he anxiously opened the message immediately.

In the group chat, there was an update from his and Kokichi's adoptive father, Ranji Kumar, alerting everyone that Kokichi had been brought to the ER for some sort of injury.

"What happened?" Kurochi immediately texted back when he saw it, fully ready to abandon his plans to call a cab, the summer college course already exiting his mind. If Kokichi was hurt—

"Pita's overreacting!" Kokichi answered first with a grinning emoji. "Just fell over while Momota-chan was chasing me! Man, he got sooo scared, but really I just kinda scraped my knee. nbd!"

Kurochi had to raise a brow at that. "Why are you at the ER then?"

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