#mafia polycule

[flankerclinger0a]

@thelocalfroggo and @st4rrysthings

THIS IS WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT

I LOVE ANGST

[ducksbellorum]

3. First Night

whumpuary 2025 day 13 prompts: sleep, alt prompt: darkness

tw: pet whump (gen), brief gun mention, beating

“This is technically my guest room, but you can have it while you're sleeping here.” Mistress flicked on the light to reveal a modest space with a twin bed against one wall. “It's probably more comfortable than the kitchen floor, anyway.”

Her tone was joking and light but Legion couldn't appreciate it. The Pet's face still burned with the shame of falling asleep while Mistress was left to cook. She had been nice about it, but the failure still ate at Legion's insides. It bit its own tongue, determined to do better and keep its attention on the here and now. “Th-thank you, Mistress,” it managed, too late.

Mistress didn't seem to mind though. She gestured broadly toward the bed and overlooked Legion's flinch at the motion of her hand. “So... yeah. Get some sleep and we'll talk again in the morning.” Legion hesitantly entered the room, trying not to touch anything.

“You're allowed on the bed,” Mistress said from the doorway, as if the thought had just occurred to her. “I know that's a...Pet thing? Furniture? But the bed's all yours if you want it. I'm not going to be upset.” Legion glanced back at her, then gingerly sat down on the bed. The duvet's texture made its nerves scream, but Mistress smiled in satisfaction so it stayed put.

“Okay, good night.” Mistress shut the door behind her, flipping off the light as she left. Legion was left alone in the dark. It wasn't used to the dark; there were always lights where Master lived. Darkness was unfamiliar and the unfamiliar was always frightening. Everything was unfamiliar now.

Legion curled onto its side and drew its legs up into a tight ball. It didn't even bother to get off of the scratchy duvet. It wanted to go home; back to its Master's house where the lights stayed on and everything hurt but at least it all made sense. This place made Legion's head ache, even more than normal.

Mistress' house was certainly the quietest place that Legion could remember. The room echoed softly with little glimpses of Mistress' sibling's childhood, but nothing as major or loud as the other rooms of the house. It was enough that if it concentrated and listened very hard...

There she was. Its Mistress was a strangely dark spot in the perception of its mind, but its ears could hear her well enough in the otherwise silent house. Legion focused on her and the small sounds of her evening routine soothed its nerves a bit. But all too soon she was still and Legion was alone with its thoughts again. And its thoughts were not kind.

You shouldn't be here. You should have died too.

Legion whined and squeezed its eyes shut tighter. It knew it was only the truth. Legion should have been a good Pet and swallowed a bullet alongside its Master. It had just been so frightened and it was frightened still. Even someone as good as Mistress, as gentle and as kind, scared it now.

Legion lay awake, panting in the dark. The memory of its failure lurked at the corners of its consciousness and Legion shoved it away with all its might. It didn't want to remember the way that Master had looked at the end or the way that the gun had shone in the fluorescent lights when they-

Legion smacked itself with an open palm to dislodge the thoughts. It just couldn't go to sleep. That was all. If it was awake, it could stand guard over its Mistress. If it was awake, the memories would stay away and it could be useful. If it was awake, then Legion would not fail again and nothing could come in the night and take away its home. It just had to stay....

awake...

+

“How could you?”

Legion couldn't remember how it had gotten here or how long it had been here. When it tried to chase its thoughts they blew away like so much smoke. All that existed was Master, his head half-gone in a mess of bone and blood and brain, and Master's words, cutting it to the heart.

“You were my favorite, you know. Before you fucking left me to die.” Another kick and Legion retched. “I was good to you and you threw it away. Ungrateful bastard thing.”

I didn't, Legion wanted to protest, but the words wouldn't come. I wouldn't. I loved-

“Don't waste your breath on it.” That was the voice of one of Master's women, his favorite. Legion could see her now, mocking it from its Master's side. Her face was streaked in red and her eyes were gone. Legion cowered away from her and she laughed. “See? It can't even take its punishment right.” Master's laughter joined hers.

Legion felt sick. It reached out, trying to plead with them, make them understand that it could be good again. But its strength was gone. All it could do was take it as Master struck it over and over. “Useless bitch,” Master swore, grunting with the effort of breaking Legion's ribs. “Didn't even warn me. You wanted me to die. Say it!”

No! Legion's voice came out in a strangled whisper. It screamed without sound, desperate to be heard. No no no I didn't want this, I didn't!

A hard hand wrapped around its throat, forcing its eyes up. Master was gone, the form had changed and now it was the gunman that stood over it. Their face swam in front of Legion's frightened eyes but it knew those hands, knew the gun forcing its way into Legion's mouth, knew the sound it would make when it fired.

“Do it.” Master's voice came from behind the gunman. Legion tried in vain to see him, to be able to beg with its eyes for some mercy. Master kept speaking and Legion couldn't see. “Get rid of the damn thing. Nobody wants it now.”

Legion woke up screaming.

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[theposhperyton]

Happy Pride Month from the Maficule in Ye Olden Days™️!

(This art in particular is of them when they were just starting out - not romantic nor poly at this point, and barely even a mafia)

[flankerclinger0a]

Mafioso’s fever dreams have gone from at least kinda normal to “This is a teenager calling themself god(said god is also my friend), who is wielding nothing but a purple softball bat, and they have killed my husbands.”

Divine Apathy can’t save you from the panic attack that awaits you when you wake up from this dream, bucko. *cocks gun of unspeakable horrors*

[ducksbellorum]

2. Homecoming

whumpuary 2025 day 5 prompts: chills, "do you trust me?"

tw: pet whump (gen), mild self harm, cold

Mistress' house was small, compared to its old Master's estate. It was quieter, too; the impressions filling it limited to the experiences of only three or four people that Legion could sense. The sensations were still loud and pressing on its mind, but it felt like it could breathe easier here.

“-a bath for you.”

Mistress' casual words grabbed its attention with a jolt of fear. Legion flinched back, trying to make itself smaller. “Th-there's n-n-no-” Its panic resonated off its gift, becoming steadily larger and louder. It knocked its head against the wall, trying to let the bright spot of pain keep it tethered.

“You'll feel better with the dirt off you.” It knew she was right. Legion was a mess; blood and sweat covering its skin. It hung its head self-consciously. “Hey.” She was right in front of it now, dipping her head to catch its eyes. “Shower first,” Mistress said, “and then we'll see about dinner.”

Legion bit its tongue against a whine. That was the deal then. No food until the bath. Legion's stomach felt like an open wound under its ribs. It couldn't remember the last time there had been real food. Not since Master was alive. “Y-yes Mistress.”

“You don't have to be scared.” Her words were soft and almost lost in the chaos of Legion's perception. “Nothing bad is going to happen. Do you trust me?” Mistress held out one hand, still covered in her black gloves. Legion hesitated, then placed its hand in hers. It didn't, but it had no choice.

Mistress led Legion down the hallway to a bathroom decorated with happy yellow ducks. “Shower's there, I'll grab you a towel and something else to wear. We can try to save your clothes but uh...” She tactfully didn't mention the rust-brown stain of Master's blood marring Legion's torn shirt.

Legion hurried to undress. It held on to the shirt for a minute, focusing on the sense memories present in the last gift Master had given it. Already they were fading, crowded over by the shades of its new Mistress, its new life. Legion sank to its knees, the shirt clutched forgotten in one hand.

Mistress returned, already speaking as she opened the door. “-thinking that you could fit my sister's old-” Mistress cut herself off with a yelp when she saw Legion kneeling naked on the bathroom tile. “Oh my god, okay, that's happening I guess.” She looked away.

Legion understood her alarm. It never had been a pretty Pet and it definitely wasn't attractive now; dirty and marked with attempts at correcting its ever wandering attention. It dug a fingernail into an old scratch on its ankle, dragging its focus back to the present. “This- this- this one is ready, Mistress.”

“I see that,” she muttered. “Can you... Can I leave you to it or do I...” Mistress huffed a laugh. “I've never had a Pet before.”

That much was clear even to a damaged Pet like Legion. The nervousness came off her in waves, clipping in and out of past and present in Legion's eyes. It opened its senses, dipping into the impressions of this house and this woman to guess what it should do next.

“Legion?”

Legion abruptly realized that it had drifted off again. Mistress was looking at it curiously, obviously expecting an answer. Legion made an educated guess. “This-this one c-can manage, Mistress.”

The relief from her was almost a physical thing. “Great good excellent, love that. Okay, have fun, I'm going now.” Mistress nearly slammed the door closed in her eagerness to leave.

Legion unfolded from the floor and climbed into the shower. The first touch of the water was bracing, freezing and sharp against its skin. Its teeth started chattering almost at once. For one instant it was tempted to spin the knob towards warmth, but couldn't manage to follow through. If it lost focus and wasted Mistress' water and heat, she would be angry. It had to be quick and it had to be thorough.

Legion did its best to hurry but cleansing away the grime of the past days took longer than expected. The icy water made it easy to stay focused but harder to move. By the time the water ran clear, Legion could barely feel its fingers. It took two clumsy tries to even turn off the shower when it was done.

The clothes that Mistress left were too big, but Legion welcomed the warmth of the extra fabric swimming around it. The cold shower felt like it had penetrated into its bones. It wanted to bury itself in the too-large sweater and curl into a ball until the shaking stopped. Instead, it went to find its Mistress.

Legion found its Mistress in the kitchen, humming over a pot on the stove. When she turned, smiling, Legion knelt at her feet. It wasn't graceful, with chills still rattling its body, but it hoped that she wouldn't notice.

Mistress' smile faded. “Hey, you're shaking, what's up?” She touched Legion's hair gently, then pushed her gloved fingers deeper into the damp tangle. “Your hair is freezing, did-” Mistress crouched and looked Legion in the face. “Did you even turn on the hot water?”

Legion could barely see her. The echoes were loudest in this part of the house, blurring the knowledge of now and then. It caught her last question on sheer luck and gave a headshake turned too violent by a hard shiver. “N-not allowed, Mis-stress. This-s one behaves.”

“Oh for fucks sake.” She nudged Legion until it was kneeling directly over the heat vent in the floor. “Sit on that for a while and see if it helps. God.” Mistress went back to her cooking and left Legion to huddle over the heat. The shakes eased as the warmth seeped into its bones.

By the time Mistress turned back with two bowls of soup, Legion had fallen asleep curled up on her kitchen floor.

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[ducksbellorum]

Amanda & Legion Chronological Masterlist

Legion is a clairvoyant Pet formerly owned by a murdered gangland boss. Seized as material evidence in the case, Legion falls into the hands of Detective Amanda Palmer, who is ill-prepared for everything that caring for Legion will entail.

First Meeting

2. Homecoming

3. First Night

4. Nightmare

5. Home Alone

6. Walls Up

7. Settling In

8. Learning Curve

9. Interrogation

10. Flashback

11. Aftermath

12. Claimant

13. Revenge

14. Rescue

15. Devotion

Bonus Prequel Content

Legion Mixtape

[ducksbellorum]

9. Interrogation

whumpuary 2025 day 7 prompts: unfair fight, "no one is coming"

tw: pet whump (gen), Legion gets beaten up in this one

“So,” Larsh drawled. “My partner tells me you've been making some progress.” They were looming over where Legion knelt on the interrogation room floor. Naomi Larsh wasn't very tall, but then again, neither was Legion. The Pet tried not to feel intimidated.

“Yes, sir,” Legion said softly. They forced their hands to remain open and tried to control their breathing. This wasn't just any cop. This was Mistress' partner. They just wanted to talk, she'd said. Everything was going to be alright and there was no reason to be afraid.

“Oh, I'm no sir,” Larsh scoffed at them. “Let's stick with Officer, for now, how about it?”

“Yes, officer. This one begs forgiveness.”

Legion flinched as they burst out laughing. “Oh, aren't you the most well-behaved little thing.” They leaned forward and ruffled Legion's hair, giggling again when it inspired another wince. “I hear my partner's been spoiling you, that so?”

Legion's gaze flicked briefly to the one way glass. Mistress had said she would be watching, but Legion wouldn't be able to see her. They were tempted to reach out with their mind, but knew it would be fruitless. Mistress would have her own guards up and besides, they were meant to be focusing on the task at hand. “Mistress has been very kind to me,” they finally answered. “This- this- this one is grateful.”

“Yeah, you're a pretty lucky little shit.” They propped their hip against the table and studied Legion where they knelt. “Lucky to be picked up by my partner instead of rotting in a shelter, lucky to live when the rest of your house died, just plain lucky.” Larsh leaned in and Legion lost the fight against leaning away. “No one's that lucky.”

“This- I-” Legion struggled to follow the officer's train of thought. “This one begs forgiveness,” they finally repeated, though they weren't sure what exactly they were supposed to be sorry for. Larsh was just so close, looking at them like somehow the whole mess was Legion's fault. What did they want them to say?

Legion tried again to glance over at the mirrored window and Larsh grabbed them by the chin, forcing the Pet's face up to theirs. “No no, Pet,” Larsh chided. “Eyes on me.” Their grip tightened cruelly around Legion's jaw. “Stay with me now. I have a little job for you.”

Legion tried. But the touch proved too much for their fledgling guards. Larsh's hand on their face sent their mental walls crumbling, the sense echoes of the police station cascading in on Legion with a rush. Their eyes unfocused, trying and failing to latch on to anything real in the sea of sensation.

A closed fist made contact with Legion's ear. The sudden impact snapped their head back against the wall and their attention back to the present. Larsh stood in front of them, grinning crooked and mean. “Paying attention now?”

Legion tried to pull their guards together and failed, sliding down into a grease pit of half-there sights and sounds. “Don't, I- What do you want, please?” Not the most elegant way to phrase it, but they were drowning. Legion flailed out blindly and Larsh grasped their wrist with bruising force.

“I want you to try,” they snarled, eyes cold above their smile. “Try to stop me.” Larsh pulled on Legion's arm, unbalancing them, and slammed a knee into their face as they fell forward. Something in Legion's face cracked and they wailed piteously.

“P-please, this- this-”

Another blow and another. Legion curled into a ball, trying to make itself as small as possible. Larsh, however, was having none of it. They grabbed Legion by the collar and hauled it upright. The two swayed together, almost a dance, until Legion found its balance. Larsh released them and Legion stumbled, one hand scrabbling at the wall for support. “Fucking try,” the officer said again.

Voices screamed in Legion's head; training against memory against instinct. They wanted it to fight, surely that must mean it could. Or... no. Legion knew this. It was a test. “Can't,” it coughed. It remembered how to be good, how to take it. If it wasn't Legion's gift that humans wanted from it, then it was only this: silence and pain. It remembered. It had to. “This one is obedient. Please-”

Larsh hit it in the stomach and Legion doubled over. “Fight, you piece of shit,” the officer spit. “Fight for your life. Or are you just going to let yourself die like you let your Master die?” Legion crumpled to its knees, gasping for air. Larsh's boot connected with its ribs and sharp pain exploded into its chest.

“Didn't- couldn't-”

“What, you didn't fight for him? Couldn't even try to save him?” Larsh kicked it in the face. Legion's teeth sliced into the soft inside of its mouth. It tasted blood, smelled death, saw ghosts of past beatings in this room. It understood then: this was not a talk or a test. This was an execution. “Useless fucking mutt.”

Pain and pressure were exploding inside Legion's head so that it could barely think. Everything had gone so wrong so quickly. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Mistress had said- She'd said- “Mistress,” Legion cried out, reaching for the window. It could see itself in the mirrored glass, its face a mask of gore and Larsh standing over it, grinning like a demon.

“No one is coming for you, you piece of shit.” Larsh grabbed Legion by the hair, jerked its head back to expose its throat. “All you can do is die like the rest of them. Looks like your luck's run out.”

Legion couldn't breathe. The smell of blood was everywhere, choking it, sending it reeling back to the morning when everything had changed. When it had failed its Master. Legion screamed for its Mistress in the recesses of its mind even as its consciousness was driven down into darkness.

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[ducksbellorum]

7. Settling In

whumpuary 2025 day 25 prompts: drowsiness, "I'm fine"

tw: pet whump (gen, although stronger in this one than usual), mild self harm, sleep deprivation

Legion had always assumed that things would be easier without the voices in their head. When Mistress taught them to build up the walls in their mind, Legion expected their life to change for the better. And to be fair, in some ways it had. Legion found that they were able to keep their eyes on the physical more easily, that their ears didn't get scrambled with the echo of a hundred voices. They were learning how to be in the here and now, slowly but surely. There was progress, and they were grateful.

They had to remember that they were grateful.

It was just that there was so much to remember now. Before, it was all that they could do to follow simple commands, remain upright, remember their own name. They were scared all the time and half-mad and in pain, but it had been an uncomplicated life. Now, though, Legion had space to think, to remember, and to know. And what they knew was that they were a very bad Pet indeed.

Mistress had been bringing home books from the library about Pets and Pet ownership. Brushing up, she'd explained with a laugh when Legion hadn't asked. After she left for work each day, Legion pored over them. The words meant nothing of course, but the pictures, showing happy and well-trained Pets sitting prettily for their owners, ate at them. They mimicked each posture over and over, trying to remember how to be good.

There was, in the back of their mind, a place where half-recalled instinct told them what they were meant to do. Sit, serve, suffer, in silence. Things they had never had to be before, because they had been so very useful. The violence they'd suffered had nothing to do with correction and everything to do with focus. They had never internalized it as training and so had never been trained. Any poor behavior was excused by the gift and the purpose that they served.

But now they had a new Mistress, who wanted very different things than Legion was used to. She had taught them how to bridle their gift, which she did not need or want. And she refused to use them either for pain or for pleasure, only touching Legion rarely and reluctantly. She gave them food and rest and even a nickname; though 'Leach' still felt strange to their ears. Legion was stuck in the liminal space of simply existing, a task at which they were discovering that they had no skill. It should have been a mercy. It was agony.

The harder Legion tried to prove their worth, the more they seemed to disappoint their Mistress. They cleaned the house until their fingers were raw from bleach and acid. They cooked for her until their feet ached with standing before the sink and stove. They even stopped sleeping; concentrating instead on practicing the mental exercises she'd given them or the forms they'd memorized from the Pet books. She barely seemed to notice their efforts; or when she did, her reaction was only pity.

“Are you okay?” she asked one evening. She was reading one of her library books, the one that was privately Legion's favorite because it had the best pictures. Legion jumped, guiltily realizing that they had nodded off when they were meant to be folding the laundry.

“This-” Legion stopped when Mistress' lips thinned in displeasure. She had reminded them so often how to speak and still they were disappointing her. “I am fine,” they tried again. It felt wrong in their mouth but the words made her smile and so they said them again. “I'm fine, Mistress.”

But her smile faded when Legion dozed off into the clean laundry not five minutes later. Legion flushed with guilt when she woke them gently. It was only that the clothes had been so warm and they were so tired. They begged for forgiveness but Mistress only shooed them off to bed.

“It's alright, Leach. You're working hard. It's okay to take a break.”

Mistress was always saying things like that. It set their teeth on edge. Every time Legion forgot an exercise and let their guard slip, she was helpful instead of angry. Each time they fumbled something in their clumsy hands or tripped over their own stupid feet, she was gentle instead of violent. Each and every time they were wrong, Mistress simply waved it aside without consequence.

It felt like an itch they couldn't scratch, the way she refused to help them be better. She had helped so much to quiet their mind and now they were left hanging, painfully aware of how poorly they were trained. It wasn't their place to criticize their Mistress, they knew that, but it was just... They were so bad at Pet things, and if she would just correct them, they could be perfect and please her and be sufficiently grateful for all she was doing.

Once, only once, they asked her for it. Legion spilled coffee across the tablecloth, staining it an ugly brown. Mistress acted unconcerned with the mess, but Legion could see how upset she was. It had been her grandmother's, they knew that. They deserved to pay for ruining it. So the Pet knelt at her feet and turned its face up to hers in desperation.

“Please pun-punish me, Mistress,” they asked. Their control slipped briefly, but held. Legion felt a burst of pride. They could do this. “This- I'm asking. I deserve it. Please-” help me was what they meant to say, but Mistress' gentle hand in their hair cut them off.

“It's okay, Leach,” she said. “You don't have to. I'm not going to hurt you, not ever. You're okay.”

That night, Legion purposefully slammed their ankle in the bathroom door for the first time. The pain was brutal and they walked with a limp the next day. But for the first time in many days, Legion felt at peace.

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