An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Overwatch (Video Game)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Characters: Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes
Additional Tags: Past Relationship(s), Lovers to Enemies, Blood and Injury, Serious Injuries, Character Death
Series: Part 96 of Reaper76, Part 1 of Febuwhump 2026 - Overwatch
Summary:
"Why did you interfere?” It came out more accusatory than he’d necessarily intended, although there was a bubble of resentment somewhere in his chest, that he’d needed to be saved by this man of all people. That Jack hadn’t even hesitated… or was it guilt, that if the tables had been turned, he would have hesitated? That was another thought he wasn’t quite ready to deal with.
A chance encounter when Soldier 76 rescues Reaper from Talon's vengeful claws, is as awkward and heavy with their past as all their encounters. But it might also be their final chance...
🌻 Johnny Cade, Bob Sheldon, Randy Adderson, Soc Characters, Curly Shepard, Greaser Characters
🌻 No Relationships
🌻 FebuWhump • @febuwhump 🌻
🌻 "I like you better broken"
🌻 Warnings (If Applicable) 🌻
Beatings, Jumping's, Severe Injuries, Knife Wounds, 4 Vs 1 fights, Unfair Fights, Character goes Unconscious due to Injuries, Life Threatening Injuries
🌻 Summary 🌻
He wanted to be anywhere but inside that car, even if it meant that he had to deal with muttered words and curses.
Johnny's hands were shaking as Bob must have found a location that he liked, the car slowing to a stop and the doors were being open. Johnny was grabbed and shoved out of the car. His foot caught on the floorboards so he was sent tumbling to the ground. Johnny hissed as he pulled himself away from the car as the Soc's laughed at him and circled slowly around him.
They looked like vultures circling a dying prey.
Johnny kept his head lowered as there were words exchanged above his head about what to do with him.
"He needs to be taught a lesson…" Bob's voice sounded far too amused.
"No fountain around this time…" Another Soc sighed almost mournfully. "He could use a good bath at the same time as his workin' over like tha' other kid."
Title from "Head Above Water - Avril Lavigne"
Dividers were created and are owned by @lobster-graphics
Johnny had never thought of himself as particularly confident before. He had the same walk as all the other greasers and he had the same snark that made teachers not like them. He had the sass that defined a lot of different greasers and the knowledge that sometimes it's just better to keep your mouth shut. But something about him had set off a particular Soc that later beat him until he was unconscious and damn near dead, and Johnny still hadn't figured out what it was.
After that, the easiest way to have described him was broken.
Johnny didn't like to think like that, but it was true. He was broken. Johnny'd been beaten so bad and had lost a lot of what had made up his personality and ability to be a greaser. He didn't like fights, he didn't like drinking or any of the drugs that others did. Johnny also just… He didn't talk much anymore. It's from what he remembered of his beat down, the little of it that he would allow himself to recall without shutting down or damn near having a panic attack.
And the others pretended like it didn't bother them, but Johnny could see how much happier it made them whenever he made a quip like he used to. And while he had never been smart with his words like Two-bit or Ponyboy, he still could get people to laugh or smile, or hell, even that one time he'd gotten someone to blush.
It helped, Johnny supposed, to have such unfaltering support. To have the understanding from the gang even if they didn't truly understand.
Which, he supposed, is why he'd started being himself again. Nine months after his jumping and he was starting to finally feel safe with at least the gang, being around them had him talking just a bit more. Johnny felt that he could be himself again, and it felt refreshing. Not jumping every time a car drove past, or tensing whenever someone flashed their rings to be impressive.
Even louder voices were easier to deal with spontaneously.
Until he saw the terrifyingly familiar blue mustang with the blonde haired driver with his arm out the window; the sun was glinting off of his rings and Johnny was thrown back to that night. That jumping.
Johnny's breathing felt like it had become ten times harder to achieve, and his heart hurt painfully in his chest. The thought of running crossed through his mind, like it had a month prior when he and Ponyboy had been jumped by the same group of Socs, but he didn't get the chance before the mustang had swerved and cut off Johnny's path to the Curtis house. Hissing through his teeth, Johnny turned and began to run though he didn't make it far before he was tackled to the ground.
"Hey there, little greaser," His attacker cooed mockingly at him. Johnny struggled to get free, biting his tongue so as to not say anything. A blade pressing against the side of his neck had Johnny freezing. "Now, now, no need to fight us greaser we just want to have a little chat." Johnny's breathing was stuttered and pained as the Soc lifted him to his feet and pulled him back towards the car that the Socs had arrived in.
"Get in the car, greaser." The words were snarled in his ear and Johnny shook as he was shoved into the car. He was held down so that he wouldn't be seen by anyone that they passed. Not that he would have been seen with how fast Bob was driving. Johnny didn't know where they were taking him, but the knife pressed against his throat had him still and silent.
He wasn't looking to die today, that was for damn sure.
Johnny felt regret at deciding to ditch from school early. No one but Ponyboy would notice he was missing, and he'd already told Ponyboy that he was leaving, going to the Curtis house to wait out the school day. He'd been so tired from dealing with the Socs at school, muttering words about attempted murderer and how Johnny should be in prison, or worse, having died already.
He wanted to be anywhere but inside that car, even if it meant that he had to deal with muttered words and curses.
Johnny's hands were shaking as Bob must have found a location that he liked, the car slowing to a stop and the doors were being open. Johnny was grabbed and shoved out of the car. His foot caught on the floorboards so he was sent tumbling to the ground. Johnny hissed as he pulled himself away from the car as the Soc's laughed at him and circled slowly around him.
They looked like vultures circling a dying prey.
Johnny kept his head lowered as there were words exchanged above his head about what to do with him.
"He needs to be taught a lesson…" Bob's voice sounded far too amused.
"No fountain around this time…" Another Soc sighed almost mournfully. "He could use a good bath at the same time as his workin' over like tha' other kid."
"Could jus' beat the dirt off'a him." A third suggested, sounding far too excited about the idea.
"Wan' to hurry it up if tha's wha' we wan' to do…" Randy suggested, sighing as he stood leaned up against the car with a bored expression.
"Bob?" David's voice hummed from behind Johnny. Johnny kept his head lowered and his eyes squeezed shut as he waited for the first swing. He knew how most typical jumpings went. Johnny knew how Bob liked to jump greaser's. If he was upset about something that Johnny did recently, or even from nine months ago, this was going to be worse than the last time he was jumped by them.
Johnny was fucking terrified.
"Kevin. You star' us off." Bob sounded down right gleeful about something.
Johnny had expected a punch to be swung at his head, but a kick landed swiftly against his ribs. Johnny cried out suddenly as he was knocked backwards, a wheezing breath escaping his lungs before two more of the Soc's were descending upon him. One was on the ground beside him, hitting him everywhere that he reasonably could, while the other two kicked and stomped on him.
Johnny's arms were covering his head to at least save himself from brain damage. At least, he was until one of his arms was grabbed and pinned to the ground and a blade was pressed into his arm through his jacket. Johnny shouted in pain as he twisted and threw a punch to try protect himself.
The knife was pulled through his arm and another boot was hit into his spine. Johnny was knocked out of the ground and another wheezy breath escaped his lungs. Johnny's mind was stuck on the month prior, when Ponyboy had been out really late one night after Two-bit had left them at the Curtis' after the movies.
Ponyboy had wanted to go see if Curly was out of jail or if he had been sent to Reform again. Johnny hadn't wanted to go with him and had walked into the Curtis house to rest on the couch before Darry got home from work.
And then Ponyboy was gone all night with no call or note. Johnny had called Buck's to talk to Dallas about it, but Dallas hadn't seen Ponyboy since the movies. Darry had called and asked Tim… only to learn that Ponyboy had never made it to the Shepards.
A wide search party had been sent out that day and it was Johnny that had stumbled upon the limp form of his best friend, laid beside a fountain. He'd been shivering just barely and his breathing had been shallow and wheezy.
"No fountain around this time…"
"He could use a good bath at the same time as his workin' over like tha' other kid."
No fountain… like that other kid…
Johnny felt a flare of protectiveness flare through him before he was kicking wildly and fighting back with everything he had in him. Ponyboy had been jumped by the same group of Soc's that had jumped Johnny. Ponyboy had scars from these Socs and everything that they put him through.
Ponyboy had been sick for two weeks with a fever that refused to break until he'd been adjusted to an ice bath. It took hours and repeated baths before the fever broke, nevermind the fact that Ponyboy had nearly drowned in his sleep because there was still water inside his lungs.
Johnny felt pissed. He felt protective. Johnny wanted to get revenge for his friend. He may not have been strong or entirely too smart, but Johnny knew how to fight like his life depended on it. He and Ponyboy were partners in a rumble for a reason. They protected one another and they watched each other's backs.
But Johnny hadn't been there. Not that time. So Johnny would try to get revenge. He would try as hard as he could to do some damage.
"Fuck!" Johnny had gotten a lucky hit in, and by the gush of blood that Johnny had gotten a glimpse of, he'd broken the Soc's nose.
Johnny fought hard enoug that he was able to get himself to his feet. It was for a fleeting moment before Bob joined the fray and Johnny's knee was kicked in from behind and he was back on the ground and being pinned. Someone was pinning his legs while another pinned his good arm. The third was holding his bad arm and digging into the slash there to cause blinding pain to go up and down Johnny's arm and back.
Bob was straddling his stomach, throwing punch after punch after punch against Johnny's face.
His rings hurt just as bad as they did the first time. The feeling of blood running down the side of his face from new wounds that would no doubt scar made Johnny feel nauseous and the blood bleeding into his mouth from his nose had him gagging lightly.
Johnny knew that if he threw up, they would make him choke on it. He swallowed back bile and blood.
Bob must have made his point, though, because he was standing back up and letting the three pinning him go back to beating on him themselves. Bob wasn't putting as much effort into this jumping, it seemed. Letting three of his lackey's do all the work for him, as if this was just a warning to scare Johnny.
Johnny didn't know how long had passed before Bob was saying something again. The beating slowed to a halt. Johnny was gasping for breath that was stolen from him from how much pain was radiating from every inch of his body. Not a single spot was spared and it made him dizzy with it.
"You know…" Bob laughed mockingly, kneeling down next to Johnny's head. "I like you better broken." Johnny didn't know what came over him when he heard those words, but he spat at the Soc, a vicious glare on his face and a brief bit of vindicative satisfaction rushed through him.
Regret dogged its heels, but it had been nice while it lasted.
"Think he needs more of a workin' over, don't you?" Bob was looking towards his friends, and Johnny felt a jolt of fear rush through him at Bob's words, again. Johnny swung and managed to get Bob in the jaw, sending him sprawling back before his friends pinned him back down and were raining hell down on him.
Johnny couldn't fight anymore, even if he wanted revenge for Ponyboy—which he did—but he had no more energy.
Johnny laid there as he was kicked into the ground, for an unknown amount of time before an echo-y whistle sounded through the area. It took Johnny a few moments to recognize the threat whistle that the Shepard Gang used to scare off threats or alert other members to threats in the area that needed to be taken care of.
The Soc boys clearly didn't know what it meant, because there was no way that they didn't hear it, because they slowed their attacks. There was some murmuring passed between the four of them, while the fifth, Randy, got back into the car. Maybe Randy knew what it meant.
Johnny whistled out a shaky 'help' twice before his eyes closed. A kick landed against his chest and a snarled "Shut up!" was directed towards him before a flurry of movements seemed to explode around him.
Johnny groaned weakly as the pounding of feet sounded around him, shouts and hollers of excitement and a few pained cries before a car was peeling out of… wherever Bob had taken him.
"Mierda, ¿está muerto?" A slightly panicky sounding voice asked. There was a gentle hand that maneuvered Johnny onto his back. A pained whine escaped Johnny's throat and the gentle hand flinched away before there were hands cupping his face.
"No, no estoy muerto. Todavía." Johnny recognized that voice. A shiver of fear before Johnny was fighting to open his eyes and look around at who had just saved him from his jumping. Everything was too blurry and the light from the sun was hurting his head. His eyes fell closed again.
"Bayard, go ge' Tim." The same voice as before commanded, there was another shiver of fear but it was less pronounced this time. Johnny knew that voice, but why did he know it? Why was it familiar?
Someone was running, though the sound of pounding footsteps on concrete were fading. The gentle hands was seemingly covering a wound and… oh, Johnny's neck was wet with blood. Johnny made a panicked noise as one hand came up to his neck.
His fingers slipped into a knife sound on his throat.
Johnny gasped in panic as his eyes snapped open despite the pounding headache that was making tears fill his eyes.
"Hey, hey, breathe. Slow down. Is okay. Yer gon' be okay." Johnny didn't recognize the face hovering above his own. A pained cry escaped him.
"Cade." A sharp voice sounded. Johnny's eyes snapped to the right of him and found… Oh, that was Curly Shepard. Curly was crouching down beside him, an unrecognizeable expression on his face as he stared at him. "Hey there Cade." Curly's voice sounded… almost soft.
It was hard putting the tone of voice Curly had to the Curly that would jump and fuck around with Johnny every few days. Johnny stared at Curly with wide eyes, almost certain that they were filled with fear.
Curly usually enjoyed when Johnny was fearful of him. It made no sense that Curly Shepard looked pissed in that moment in time. A hand was reaching out to carefully prod at an injury to the side of Johnny's jaw. Johnny flinched and then whined as he knocked his head against the ground.
"Cuidado, Cade." Curly murmured. "Take it easy, amigo." Johnny whined as his hands, which had still been up by his neck, lowered to rest on his chest. Still close enough to defend his head if he needed it, but no longer taking up strength that Johnny didn't have. "Tim will be here soon. We'll git yous ta a hospital. Git yer gang there too."
Johnny blinked slowly as he stared at Curly before he lost consciousness.
Im so running behind but here we go, all little drabbles from Koremy, my very own fantasy books (not written yet-), Im not very good at whump, this is my training arc
Also none of these are proof-read, I apologize for any mistakes ♥
— Why would you say that?
Kaoz was standing in the middle of a open field deep into the forest, one of his legs was bleeding down his pants after the most recent attack from Lena, who, standing a few meters away, was holding onto her sword like a lifeline.
— Well... Thats what my dad always says to me, is not that bad.
— It is bad!
The two young voices could barely be heard throught the dense foliage, luckly for them.
— No, is not, I just said I like you when you bleed! You look tougher! He says I look like a real warrior when Im bleeding...
Both her and Kaoz lowered their weapons for a moment, deciding the argument was more important than the training for now.
— Even if its true... Its a weird thing to say, even I can see that.
Lena scoffed and stared at her sword, slowly following the shinny blade all the way up to the hilt where her scar covered hands rested with familiarity, no child their age should ever be so comfortable with fighting, thats what Kaoz always said... Yet he always agreed to spar with her.
rating: teen
warning: graphic depictions of violence? i guess? but not really
summary:
The gun goes off.
The room smells like gunpowder and smoke, the tang of blood and floor cleaner. Dr. Hirsch watches as Jason Bourne stands, arm still raised, gaze level at the man he’s just shot dead. The body slumps in the steel folding chair with the black bag over its face, the bullet hole in its chest. There’s a speck of blood on the linoleum. He’ll have to ask the cleaners to get it out. Reminders are bad for progress.
“Good,” the doctor says. “Again.”
--
written for febuwhump day 1: i like you better broken
Playing in the Snow (Day 1: I like you better broken)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fandom: Rain World
CWs: None
Summary:
Moon's power has been restored. Pebbles' is waning by the day. Their relationship, however, is better than ever. For now.
Word Count: 732 (~3 minutes)
"Do you fancy another game of dominoes?"
Usually such questions would be asked over text rather than wasting valuable processing power on speech synthesis, and then on decoding the response. At this point, who cares? They weren't even looking anymore.
"Yes, that would be nice." Pebbles responded gently.
They booted up the game. Moon usually hosted it on her systems; Pebbles' were getting less reliable by the day. She'd never say that, though.
"A long time ago, one of those pipe rodents visited me."
"Yes, I've met quite a few of those over the years! There was a red one sent by… do you remember No Significant Harassment?"
"Vaguely."
"It revived me, after…"
Why did she bring that up?!
"Sorry. You mentioned one that visited you."
"As I recall, it possessed a citizen I.D. drone for my city."
"Oh, how peculiar! I wonder how it came across such a thing."
"If it hadn't such a thing, I likely would have… not been so tolerant of its presence. It seems so cruel, now. Although to be fair, it did throw a bomb at me."
"A bomb?!"
"Don't worry, I was fine. It used to bring me pearls it'd found scattered about our facility. There were some fascinating pieces of information I was glad to add to my archive. I've been looking through them, recently."
Neither sibling was playing the game to the best of their ability. It was more just something over which they had an excuse to talk.
"You never had much interest in that sort of thing. Perhaps because you lived through it."
"Are you calling me old?!" Moon raised her voice with mock offence.
"Well…" he chuckled. "Anyway, as I mentioned, I've been looking through these pearls recently. Reminding myself of the world, of those who once inhabited it… it's been so long since priming. My systems are becoming less and less reliable by the day. I'm curious… could you remind me of what the world was like? Before my creation? Perhaps even before yours?"
If Moon could smile, she wouldn't have been able to stop. Over many cycles, she and Pebbles shared with each other every scrap of information each remembered. About the world, about their creators, about other iterators, even some of the other creatures that had come wandering through their facilities over the years.
She told him of Ruffles. He knew it, of course. A wet mouse, so casually holding his last remaining mass rarefaction cell, that oh-so-familiar blank expression on its face as it stared at him on the floor of his chamber.
His chamber barely had a floor anymore. It didn't have much in the way of a roof, either. It was getting colder. Pebbles was beginning to lose control of his overseers, and Moon's struggled to find a very high vantage point, but it was clear what was happening; the other iterators, once friends, colleagues, confidants, were going the same way as them; becoming little more than heaps of rusted metal, steeped in piles of soon-to-be-frozen water. Maybe that's all they ever were.
"I haven't seen it in a long time, now." Moon told him. "I do worry about how such a lean, sleek creature, relying on water, would fare nowadays… I can only hope it's safe, happy, and warm somewhere. It had the mark, maybe it returned to whomever bestowed it upon them?"
"I hope so too." Pebbles' voice was sincere. Warm. About as warm as speech synthesis could get, anyway.
Through the roof of Moon's chamber, small white flakes began to drift gracefully, melting as they hit the wet metal walls.
"…Is it snowing for you, Pebbles?"
"It just began."
"It's cold, isn't it?"
"Maybe. But it's beautiful."
"You really have changed, haven't you? You almost remind me of when you were young, only with so much more wisdom to impart."
"I hope so, Moon, I really do. It's easy to feel we're without purpose nowadays, but… that'll never be true, as long as we have each other."
It took a few tries, but Pebbles managed to get an overseer up to his backup communications array. The main one had been broken for decades. From this one, his only one, yet another antenna had detached, with no way to fix it back on. The snow wasn't helping the signal strength, either.
Chapters: 2/28
Fandom: Original Work
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Characters: Ezrunil'alyth | Ezrun, The Cinder King | Lucias, Laurel Naheir
Additional Tags: Febuwhump 2026, Whump, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, but not really cause that's how the demon magic works, Demons, Magic, Blood and Gore, like seriously though there's a lot of blood, Ezrun needs a hug, Dark Fantasy, Torture, Psychological Trauma, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Alcohol, Drinking to Cope, Overstimulation, Wings, Hallucinations, Aftermath of Torture, Dehumanization, Medical Inaccuracies, Abandonment
Summary:
Ezrunil'alyth has been known by many titles. Demon, pet, general, friend, Prince, slave, and even 'relic of a bygone era'.
From the moment he was forced to retreat to the mortal world Ezrun has faced hardships that would-- and do-- horrify both demons and mortals alike.
or, a series of-- rather disjointed-- snapshots of a world I have been playing with since the new year.
[promps may be posted out of order as they are finished]
Hawks prided himself in his ability to read people, to practically guess what they were thinking in record time. But Dabi, he was something else. He kept everything hidden away behind a thick layer of smoke not even Hawks’ keen eyes could see through. From his true identity to his end goal, all of it was kept away from the hero, like he wasn’t deserving of that information. Not now and maybe not ever.
But even the best of magicians sometimes let the trick slip, and Dabi was no different. Under any normal condition, he was unbreakable, if only maybe a bit short fused and easy to annoy.
Except when they’d end up like this, and suddenly it was like Dabi needed to let something slip.
@febuwhump Day 1: "I like you better broken"
Warnings: Implied Sexual Content (rating is Mature)
