GET HIS ASS DANI

GET HIS ASS DANI 😤

Taken

For @mayhem-in-mordor who wondered what happened when Roman took Dani :))

-

“Stop! Stop right there!”

The quick racking of the gun cracked across walls of the concrete room and Roman stopped dead in his tracks. His head tipped down, shoulders slumped and he let out an annoyed sigh while he threw his hands up, as if being held at gunpoint was a mere inconvenience. Slowly, drawling, stalling, he turned to face Dani, hands still in the air but dropped them to his side as he looked her over.

“That gun...” he started and began to circle her like the predator he was. “Did you take it from him?” And he nodded at the unconscious man in the blue shirt behind her.

Dani knew better than to look back.

“Yes.” She side-stepped along with him, stepping over the paper folders strewn out over the floor, some still smoldering, an attempt to destroy evidence, research. The smoke teased her nostrils, prickled her eyes. She didn’t even blink and kept the gun trained on him. Right in-between the eyes, no more missing vitals.

He nodded, silent for a few more steps. Then a smirk formed on his lips like he couldn’t contain it any longer. He tipped his head down, leering at her, and dramatically whispered a single word: “Empty.”

Dani didn't hesitate and immediately pulled the trigger to call that bluff. Only to be met by a disappointing click. And no hole in his forehead.

His eyes narrowed in glee. He threw his hands up again, almost in mock surrender but with his palms up and gave a theatrical shrug. Dani bristled and sharply inhaled to keep her calm; their cockiness and annoyance had switched sides at that click, as had her advantage. But she gave a small shrug in reply.

“Fine.” She launched forward, charging at him. She changed her grip on the gun, twirling it by the trigger guard, catching it in a claw and aimed a wide slap right at his face.

He dodged effortlessly, with that goddamn arrogant smirk that she wanted to punch off. Caught the follow-up punch in the palm of his hand and twisted her arm away. She immediately snapped free with a twist, used the momentum to aim another back-handed strike with the gun as she twirled.

“Whoa!”

At least that indicated that she was close. Though she’d prefer an exclamation of pain. Still, she’d shock his arrogant taunting right of him. To her surprise, he didn’t run. Probably knew he was at a disadvantage there. She’d easily catch up. But in close combat, he could shift the advantage to him, or tire her out as he didn’t seem to be interested in going for a killing blow. Yet.

They continued their dance of swerving and dodging, occasionally interrupted by a grunt when one of them hit home. Though her moves were smooth and elegant, she wasn’t above fighting dirty. Whenever the chance presented itself, she jabbed at his eyes or throat, went for the junk, but nothing hit home. Yet. She only broke her calm when she heard a soft scoff and saw his lips curl after he dodged a punch again, and she threw the gun full force at his smug face. Went right over his shoulder.

“This is the third time you’ve messed up my research,” he said.

“Maybe you should stop breaking the law.”

He let out a non-committed hum as he swerved. “Maybe you shouldn’t let your guard down.”

And before she could even question that in her mind, let alone snarl out the words, he side-stepped just behind her, his back to her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him twist towards her, the flurry of his elbow moving up, forearm straight as an arrow as it readied for the—

A sharp jab snapped against the side of her neck. And the control over her body slipped away from her from the neck down. Her entire body tensed up first, then just as fast completely released the grip on every muscle. Her knees buckled first. All she could do was inhale a shocked little gasp, curse at herself and Roman in her mind before everything turned to static. And luckily the world went black before she even hit the floor.

-

Roman watched as if in slow motion as the girl toppled forward. He resisted the body-jerk reaction to catch her, knowing she could still snap up and claw his eyes out if his blow was merely an inch off. Only when she landed face-forward without even moving to soften the landing against the hard concrete, it assured him the fight was over.

He simply stared at her for a few seconds, hesitating, not quite sure what to do. This would probably not render her unconscious for long. And judging by the continued muffled gunfire on the upper floors, she wasn’t alone. He didn’t have much time to decide.

A pang of frustration shot through him as he glanced up, struck by the state of the now ruined room. His ruined research. He glared at the unconscious girl at his feet, a growl in his exhale. He was going to have to lay low for a while. And that rushed him into his decision.

He squatted down next to her. Swiped over her pockets, fished her phone from her brown leather jacket and threw it hard to the floor. Patted her down to make sure she didn’t have anything else on her that could lead them to follow him.

With a grunt, he threw the dead weight over his shoulder and carried her out, down to the underground parking. Shifted her further onto his shoulder as he searched for his car keys. Opened the rear door, stopped, and closed it again. Yeah, no. You wouldn’t keep a feral animal loose in your car. She’d probably try to strangle him with the seatbelt from behind. Or even if he’d had anything to cuff her with, she’d throw her legs over the seat to pin him until they crashed. She’d proven her tenacity over these last three rounds of meetings. And that chop to the neck wouldn’t last the entire journey. Better go for the safe route. So instead, he opened the trunk and dropped her inside without much care.

-

The familiar crunches of grit under his tires and under his shoes a long ride later greeted him home. Good to know that even after quite a while, those sounds still triggered a feeling of home-coming in his brain. Might be something to look into... Later.

Roman slowly walked around the car, keeping his eyes on the trunk, not sure what to expect. There was no banging at the lid or cursing or demands to let her out. Yet he doubted she was still unconscious.

He carefully opened up, hand on the lid to keep her from further busting it open. Oh yes, she was awake. Through the small opening he could see the fury glint in her eyes, staring straight at him. She looked like an angry cat in her basket. If she could, she’d hiss at him, he mused. But he was surprised to see she didn’t spit anything at him, no insults, no saliva. In fact, she cowed back a little and lay all curled up. Somewhat reassured, he fully opened the trunk, leaned forward to drag her out.

A long leg suddenly shot out, and it hit him square in the stomach.

It punched the air – and the snide remark that was on the tip of his tongue – right out of him. He doubled over, hand still on the lid of the trunk pulling it down with him as he almost buckled. It nearly hit the girl right on the head, but in a flurry of movement she managed to snake out, bump him aside, and shot past.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he brought out, and caught her by the neck of her shirt.

She twisted free and he grabbed her arm instead. She replied with a headbutt. Missed and Roman followed up with a backhanded swing.

A yelp as he caught her full in the face and knocked her off her feet. She heavily crashed onto the grit and he immediately closed in, grabbing her shirt.

Dani didn’t hesitate. Like the fierce cat she was she almost literally clawed up around him, grasping him by the arm, threw her legs up and locked them around his head, pulling herself up.

Roman caught her in surprise, one hand still in her shirt, the other arm around her back as he secured her in reflex. Luckily for him, she didn’t have the momentum to pull him down and they stared at each other, caught in an impasse. If he let her fall, she’d drag him right along.

“We let go,” he said calmly, negotiating his release, “at the same time.”

“Duel at sunset,” she growled, and squeezed her legs but nodded.

“One… two…”

With her legs up and him protecting her from gravity, he felt like he had the overwhelming advantage here. But as he let go of her on “Three!” her back arched and she slithered gracefully from his arms, again not unlike a cat, letting herself fall to the ground in a dive. She landed on her palms, lightly sprang off against his shoulders, and shot away in an elegant back handspring, spiraling off of him with grace. He had to admit, he was impressed, and his lips tugged into a smirk.

It lost him two seconds of precious reaction time. As her feet touched the ground and she straightened, one foot immediately shot back up. Hit him right in the chin. But the hit came at a cost and with her on one leg wobbling on the pebbles straining for balance, he saw his chance. He sank down to a squat, shot out a leg and aimed at her ankle, kicking her foot right out from under her.

He watched as her eyes went wide and he immediately followed up to keep his advantage as she lost the battle with gravity. Finally. Her back crashed into the sea of grit, punched out a grunt. Another kick in the stomach didn’t deter him. Hands flailed, clawed at his face, her moves betraying a certain panic that let him know he was winning and he only had to wait for the right moment until he could calmly catch a wrist and use the momentum to twist her onto her front.

One firm hand on her neck pressed her face into the sharp pebbles, the other twisted her arm up, slowly tearing the ligaments in her shoulder until she yelped.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” he almost growled out a disappointed sigh.

She took full advantage of the little leeway he offered her to reply; twisted her head until she could – painfully – make eye contact, she smiled sweetly and spat right in his face. “It is.”

-

Tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @whumpy-daydreams

@whumpyourdamnpears @auroragehenna @alsolucakairomi @suspicious-whumping-egg @whumppmuhw

@untethered-symphony @withdrawingramen @theforeverdyingperson @treasureguardingdragon

Tintin remembers what comes after 15.

AAAA POOR DANI!!! YOU AND I ARE BOTH WAITING FOR ROMAN'S PRISON SENTENCING!!!

Punishment

Continuation from Outside- pt 1 here

TW: vague rape threat

-

Dani stumbled along, letting Roman drag her back inside. She didn’t dare dig in her heels nor even attempt to pull at the vice-like grip around her arm. Even when she was sure he was going to tear it off. She was in enough trouble as it was. And no attempt of stalling or resisting was going to help.

Every now and then, her body did refuse to follow. It stuttered, as if the signal to her muscles caused a lag. Remnants of the electricity setting her system to complete haywire. She tripped over her own feet, sure that without Roman pulling her along she would’ve crashed to the floor already.

Her stomach felt even heavier when he held the door to the basement open for her, face like thunder daring her to disobey. She didn’t. And he let her go down on her own, following with heavy stomps on every step.

Roman paced up and down, irritation clear in his expression and his rigid posture. Though the narrowed eyes and weird steps could also indicate some remnants of pain lingering. Only fuelling his anger, unfortunately.

His eyes flared. “Now I’m not one of those idiots who compare a kick in the jewels to actual childbirth. But by god,” he exhaled hard and looked straight into her eyes, “I’m this close to try it out and get you to report in nine months.”

She paled at that, even though she knew he wouldn’t. And he probably couldn’t either, in his current state. But she swallowed any comments on that. Better not to aggravate him any further when he’s this pissed. Also, she had plans in nine months, actually; sitting in a courtroom watching him get sentenced to hell. Couldn't miss that.

So instead, she kept her tightened fists close to her side and looked down. “I’m really sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

No. She wasn’t. She was pretty chuffed, actually. The feeling just was kinda overshadowed by this huge looming sword dangling right above her. But she still felt a touch of pride through that fear.

“You’re not sorry. And you're never going to be sorry, not even after this. I don’t expect you to. But at the least we can make sure even the mere thought of pulling something like this again will have you break out in cold sweat.”

Or in absolute hysterics... But probably only after she’d escaped this hellhole.

A backhanded fist caught her across the face and in her still wobbly state sent her right to the floor where she remained in a slight daze.

He snagged a fistful of hair, pulling her up, then grabbed her collar and marched her backwards until she felt his knuckles tighten in the fabric. She braced herself. Just in time as he slammed her into a wall. She buckled forward in pain, tensing her abdomen for the expected blow, but he merely kept her up and forced her shoulder blades back against the wall.

He inched closer. Knuckles tight against her collar bones, body pressing forward until she tried to squirm away, back against the wall.

“You wanna try that again?” he all but growled, voice still soft. He made himself awfully vulnerable right now, knee pressing at her leg, taunting her, knowing she wouldn’t dare.

“Don’t tempt me,” she choked out, eyes blazing, but she knew that if she even raised one leg she would buckle forward against him. She needed both feet firmly planted on the ground not to collapse.

“Oh,” he almost purred and pulled her in, still a tight grip on her shirt to make sure she was flushed against him and she felt his breath brush her cheek when he said, “I’ll make sure you’re never tempted again.”

He took a fierce step back, dragged her along, and threw her away from him to the floor.

Dani rolled along with the momentum, but everything happened too fast. Two swift footsteps. A flurry of movement. An explosion of pain against her ribs. It blew her back against something that didn’t give and she slumped against the cold metal.

Slower footsteps, away from her. Returning. She shook her head hard, trying to dispel the haze. Realised that she was slumped against the metal table in the middle of the room, Roman standing over her, preparing something on it.

She heard a snap, looked up and her breath stilled as she saw him holding up a syringe, a familiar blue vial.

A whimper escaped her. She tried to scoot away from him, but Roman barely looked down and stomped down hard on her wrist, keeping her pinned. “No,” he tutted as he felt her pull under his foot, and shifted his weight on it without looking, eyes back on the syringe as he slowly drew in the blue liquid. He flicked a finger against the glass, put it down, and sank down to his knees.

The hand went right for her throat.

“No…” she started. She struggled against him, hands up, trying to push him off, flailing as he tried to catch her wrists. “No, no, no—” He slapped her hard, scooped both wrists up in one hand and pressed them up above her head, pinning them to the ground. He reached up and the blue-filled syringe glinted in the light. “No…” she mewled again as she felt the harsh prick in her neck, but it was already too late.

The pressure on her wrists let up and Roman scrambled back to his feet. He stood over her, looking her straight in the eyes as he rummaged in his pocket. And he pulled out the remote for the electric device around her ankle.

Dani paled. Braced herself. But nothing hit her yet.

“Do it then,” she croaked after a beat, but he merely stared her down, steel glint in his eyes, finger on the button. “Go on! Do it! What are you waiting for?!” And she hated how her voice cracked.

“For the serum to take effect.”

His calm voice punched the breath out of her. Agonising seconds passed, all the while they kept eye contact, both waiting.

And she felt it. It was like the bruise on her cheekbone lit up. Like a light bulb, gradually shining brighter. As if it was growing in size, blood rushing in, the pressing tight sensation pulling at her skin slowly turning to discomfort, to pain.

And only when she winced, Roman smiled. And pressed the button.

Fire shot through her. Hotter, fiercer, more paralysing than before. A garbled scream just about made it to the top of her throat before everything contracted and it died off with a squeaking choke.

She couldn’t breathe! Pain fired through her and she couldn’t let it out in a scream. She’d lost all control over her body, merely lay there on the hard floor, spasming hard, convulsing, all the wrong muscles activating and literally keeping a death grip on her body.

Until it suddenly let go of her and it was like she fell from a great height. Her back hit the floor, punched out the remnants of her scream, and she gasped hard now she could finally breathe again.

“No…” she wheezed, scrambling back from Roman as if it would help. He still had that hard glint in his eyes. “Don’t, not again, I can’t breathe, I ca— You turned up the setting didn’t you?!”

“I did not,” he merely said. Which could be a lie, for all she knew; that serum was supposed to enhance the pain, not the amount of watts taking hold of her muscles.

Another round of pain slammed into her. Burning her from the inside as it clawed for a way out. It felt wrong. Dangerous. As if the crackling electricity stabbed and burned holes into her veins as it seared through, frayed her nerves. It had to stop. Stop! Before it actually would cause damage.

“Do try to bite through it, love,” Roman teased. “If you manage to get out an apology again, maybe I’ll accept it this time.”

“I’m sorry!” Dani choked out as soon as she could. “I am! I—no, don’t, please, it won’t happen again!”

“No,” Roman said, nodding, as he pushed the button again. “It won’t.”

-

Tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @whumpy-daydreams

@whumpyourdamnpears @auroragehenna @alsolucakairomi @suspicious-whumping-egg @whumppmuhw

@untethered-symphony @withdrawingramen @theforeverdyingperson

The Cost Of Negligence

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this chapter is a little over 4k words long and almost 3k of it is pure whump :3 I know y'all have been starved of some solid whumper-whumpee goodness for the sake of story progression but dw, here it is!

Feels good to actually have shit to put in the CWs lol

CWs: living weapon whump, controlling whumper, gun violence, knife whump, drowning whump, beatings, dehumanisation, belittling, conditioned whumpee, references to past torture (whipping), the inherent irrationality of abuse

poor jordyn :3

enjoy the chapter!

The Cost Of Negligence

The sound of my heartbeat echoed through my head. According to my visor, my BPM was sitting at around 110. Anticipation ate at my gut and sweat prickled along my skin. I could see my nerves reflected in the men around me; their hunched backs, twitchy fingers, and heavy breathing. In comparison, I must have looked totally stone-cold calm. I wasn’t, of course, but I knew better than to let my anxiety show. I was their rock; the one these men would be relying on above all else. To show any form of weakness would be tantamount to sabotaging the mission.

“Are you ready, Seven?” the team commander’s voice pierced in my ear, sharp and electronic over the comms.

“Yes, sir,” I replied. The men around me all tensed in response. It was time.

The command to breach sounded like a bomb going off in my head, and everything started moving at once. The man with the battering ram smashed the door open while another threw a flash grenade in through the doorway, giving the criminals inside no time to react before they were blinded.

They were scum. The worst of the worst; manufacturers of the sorts of drugs that have ruined countless lives on the streets of Tombguard. I’ve seen the result of their greed time and time again over my past month of patrolling; in the crumpled bodies on the sides of the road; in the people twitching, scratching themselves, making scenes over nothing but the narcotic-induced hallucinations and hurting themselves in the process. The source of all that pain could be traced straight back to this building, where a tip-off confirmed that a manufacturing plant of one of the city’s largest drug trafficking rings was located. They would get no mercy from me.

I charged forward into the fray, shadows lashing from my body as I took the lead in disabling the criminals. Most of them were completely stunned by the flashbang, so it was a cinch to run up and crack each of them with a well placed hit to the skull, sending them crumpling to the ground and leaving them for the SWAT officers to apprehend.

The door in front of me slammed open and a man ran out, pistol in hand. He zeroed in on me as the biggest threat and took aim. For a split second, I froze as adrenaline shot through me, but then my training kicked in and I threw my arm up, turning the darkness inside the barrel of the gun solid. He pulled the trigger and the whole thing exploded, mangling his hand.

I ran up as he screamed, slamming the palm of my hand into his nose and jabbing at his throat in quick succession before cracking my elbow against his temple. His knees buckled and he collapsed like a sheet of broken glass.

The clamour in the main room had become significantly quieter. I turned and surveyed the situation, pleased to find almost all of the criminals in handcuffs already, the officers sweeping the last few rooms of the house that held the source of all this pain.

“Is that all of them?” I asked.

One of the SWAT officers - Eyre, I thought his name was - did a head count of the apprehended criminals. “According to the tip we got, there should be one-”

The door next to him opened - the last door we had yet to check - and all I saw was the barrel of a shotgun before my legs were powering forward and I was shoving Eyre down.

The gunshot went off and the force of the impact against my armour sent me rolling across the room, the wind rushing from my lungs. Several more gunshots echoed through the small space as the other officers drew their weapons and returned fire, putting down the culprit like the dog he was.

“Anyone hit?” one of the officers called.

“N-no, no, I’m okay,” Eyre said, picking himself up off the floor. I did the same, wincing at the pain in my back. My armour was more than enough to prevent any real injury from such small bullets, but the shock of the bullets’ collision with the metal still transferred to my body, right into the scars that Father had left with his whip. Just my luck. It was definitely going to bruise, and those things gave me enough grief already.

“Seven? Are you good?”

I nodded, grateful for my visor to hide my grimace. “Yes.”

The officer turned away, seemingly satisfied. “Alright, let’s get these suspects rounded up so the evidence team can clear this place out.”

Relief flooded my system at the notion that we were finished. No more fighting for today; I could just go back to the facility and relax. Or, more likely, shadow Father after giving my report until he dismissed me. Still, that would be leagues better than the nauseating heat of battle. At least with Father there was a certain guarantee that I wouldn’t be suddenly inflicted with a head wound. I couldn’t say the same about joining SWAT raids, that was for sure.

The earpiece in my helmet crackled to life with the commander’s voice. “Lookout team C isn’t responding. Seven, could you go check it out?”

“Roger,” I replied, rushing out the door. The brightness of the midday sun glared in my visor as I ran, heading for the tall building across the street that housed Lookout Team C. There were several sniper teams set up around the area, keeping an eye on things in case any suspects made a run for it. They hadn’t been needed, thankfully, but it was still worrying that this team wasn’t responding. Hopefully, it was just a radio malfunction, but something in my gut was telling me otherwise.

The shadows in my armour wrapped themselves around my legs like springs, fortifying them and giving me the strength to fling myself and clear several storeys in one jump. I flew up through the air until I reached the apex of my flight, sending out a whip of darkness from my wrist which wrapped itself around the railing of the fire escape, keeping me suspended. The whip shrank, and I was pulled up along with it, slingshotting myself over the edge of the building and onto the roof, where I landed in a safety roll before turning to where the lookout team was supposed to be posted.

Two people in SWAT uniforms laid sprawled against the lip of the roof, blood pooling beneath them. Their sniper rifle was nowhere to be seen. My heart lurched.

“Team C is down!” I shouted into the comms, rushing over. Maybe they could still be saved.

“What happened?! What’s their status?” The commander asked.

I reached the bodies, turning one over onto his back. His entire front was stained red, and his throat hung open and bloody like a gaping maw of flesh. I dropped him and stumbled back, looking around in case the one who’d done this was still nearby. All was still and silent.

“Th-they’re dead,” I replied. “Their throats are cut, a-and their gun is missing.” 

“Shit!”

What followed was a scramble of orders too fast for me to process. I was too busy staring at the bodies of the two men who had been assigned to look out for us. When did this happen? How long have they been lying there, growing cold? From the looks of things, they didn’t even get a chance to react to whatever attacked them. One moment they were alive, diligently doing their duty for the raid, and the next, they were bleeding out on the concrete. I just… couldn’t understand. This sort of thing wasn’t supposed to happen to the good guys.

The comms crackled and Father’s voice suddenly appeared in my ears.

“Pick up that feather, Seven.”

His words kicked my mind back into gear. Sure enough, there were several black feathers scattered around the scene. I hadn’t noticed them before, and honestly, why would I? There were plenty of birds in the city, and plenty of birds meant plenty of feathers. They weren’t usually something to bat an eye at. That being said, if Father wanted a better look at the feather, he must have had a good reason for it. Following his order, I picked one up, examining it. It shimmered in the sunlight, long and full. I didn’t know much about birds, but this feather seemed healthy to me. 

“Bring it back to the facility with you. I will be awaiting your report in your quarters. That is all.”

The comms crackled again, and Father’s voice disappeared, replaced once again with the Commander’s frantic yelling, trying to coordinate a search for the suspect who did this to his men. I looked back at the feather, considering it again. I remembered the words Father said to me on the day I was deployed, just after meeting Madeline for the first time. If the puzzle pieces connected the way I thought they did, the search wasn’t going to be successful, especially if they only looked on the ground.

“Kill the black-winged one on sight should you see it.”

I turned my gaze up towards the sky. That magnificent blue stretched onwards to infinity, dotted with clouds of varying shapes and sizes. There was no ‘black-winged one’; no crazed, knife-wielding killers darting through the air, silhouetted in the light. Just an endless expanse of blue. There was nothing. Nothing but a feather clutched between my fingers, two dead men, and a missing sniper rifle.

Why, then, did I still feel like I was being watched?

— 

I sighed, sitting down on the end of my bed having finally stripped my armour off at the end of the day. I’d already given Father my report of the raid, and handed over the feather he’d been so interested in. He was silent the entire time, just listening, not even saying a word when he left my quarters. It worried me a little. Today was far from usual in terms of my activities, and adding in the huge loss of two SWAT officers, I could imagine that Father wasn’t very happy. I’d been doing good for him lately, but I knew well how easily his displeasure could turn around onto me. My bruised back throbbed in memory of the whipping I got all those months ago for failing at the obstacle course. I’d have to be on my guard.

Sure enough, the door opened again and I jumped back to my feet, standing at the ready. Father glowered as he walked over, the door shutting automatically behind him. Usually, he would've given me the command to be at ease by now. Something was very wrong. I didn't have my armour on anymore; totally stripped down to my underwear. The knowledge of how defenceless I was in the face of his anger was terrifying.  

He stopped inches away from my face, towering over me. I averted my gaze nervously.

“Could you tell me, Seven…” he began, voice low and rumbling like thunder. “Why exactly two men under your protection were killed, and you have nothing to show for it?”

“I- I don’t know, sir. I was busy with the raid; I don’t know what happened to the lookout team. I… I didn’t think they would be in any danger.”

He struck me across the face with the back of his hand, and my head rang like a bell. My entire body tensed up so that I wouldn’t move from my position and anger him further.

“Two men are dead because of your negligence, do you understand that? Two good men, with families that we will need to notify. What am I supposed to tell John Benovich’s wife when she asks why her husband isn’t coming home? That we don’t know why? That the only reason her husband is dead is because you weren’t doing your job? Can you even comprehend the gravity of your failure today?”

As a matter of fact, I didn’t understand it. How could what happened have been my fault? Was there really anything I could have done differently to prevent it? I knew Father was right of course, but the thought of the blame falling on me when I couldn’t make sense of it rankled, and I felt the uncharacteristic urge to defend myself bubble up inside me. Deep down I knew I would regret it; I knew Father would punish me for my insubordination - and rightfully so - but some part of me just couldn’t concede until I really understood what he was trying to tell me. I looked up and met Father’s piercing glare.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t see how it was my failure. I had no way of knowing what would happen, and the lookout teams were far outside of the range in which I could reasonably protect them. I… I just don’t understand how it’s my fault. I- I’m sorry.”

The silence in the room boiled and I felt the regret wash over me like a humid wave; sweat beading across my body. Father’s face contorted, his pale skin growing splotchy and red. I saw the hit coming from a mile away as the world seemed to move in slow-motion, but my body refused to move out of the way; painfully aware of how much I deserved this punishment for what I just did.

His fist collided with my nose and I felt the cartilage crack under his knuckles. My head snapped backwards and I stumbled, the pain and shock filling my eyes with tears. My back hit the sink and my knees buckled, dropping me to the floor and leaving me half supporting myself against the cold porcelain as warm, coppery liquid dripped over my lips and into my open mouth.

Father shook his hand out, his face a mask of rage. He stalked over and grabbed one of the straps of my sports bra, forcefully pulling me back to my feet. Icy terror stabbed through my chest. I really shouldn’t have done that.

“W-wait! I’m sor-”

He struck me again with his free hand, still holding me in place. My head spun, and my mouth tasted like blood from where I’d accidentally bitten the inside of my cheek.

“How dare you talk back to me, you mangy little attack dog?! How many times am I going to have to beat this lesson into you? I own you. You are mine. If I say that you failed, you have failed, and the first thing you should be doing is getting on your knees and begging me for forgiveness, not giving me backtalk! You know nothing about how the world works. You are nothing. Without me, you wouldn’t be here; you wouldn’t get this freedom that I’m allowing you. You would be buried six feet in the dirt where you belong! And you’re telling me you don’t understand? Of course you don’t; you’re barely one degree above an animal. You’re lucky I’m even gracing you with my presence. Do you at least understand that?” 

Through the hot tears on my face and the paralysing fear in my gut, I could tell he was looking for an answer. I nodded frantically.

“Say it!” he screamed, aggressively shaking me.

“I- I understand, s-sir!”

He leaned in close until our noses were almost touching. I tried to shy away, but my back was against the wall. There was nowhere to go.

“What do you understand?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“I- I understand that I’m lucky to h-have you, F-Father.”

His eyes narrowed. “...And?”

I swallowed, trying to remember his exact words. “A-and… that I’m b-barely one degree above an animal…”

He tapped my cheek with his thumb. It was gentle, but it still made me flinch.

“That’s right, Jordyn. You’re barely even a person, and the only reason you get to be that much is because of me. You only matter if you’re useful to me. Remember that.”

He finally leaned away and I had to resist letting out a sigh of relief at getting my personal space back. My heart was still pounding in my ears and my nose throbbed painfully along with every beat.

“Now,” he said. “Would you like me to help you understand your failure today, as well?”

I froze. I wasn’t sure how I should answer that. With no words coming to mind, my mouth supplied the default before I could stop it.

“Yes, please.”

Father cracked his knuckles. “Good.”

He was coming at me again before I knew what was happening. His fist sunk into my solar plexus and I gagged, slamming back against the wall as the air rushed out of me. Father didn’t slow down, following up with an elbow cracking across my cheekbone. One left jab split my bottom lip, and a right hook blackened my eye. His fingers tightened around my head as he grabbed my face and drove my skull against the wall behind me. I felt the skin split and warm blood drip down my neck, but there was no time to focus on that as Father pulled me down into a knee that crushed my already broken nose.

The pain was too much, and for a split second, everything turned white. I felt my body go limp and the world seemed to slip out of focus as Father began kicking me in the gut over and over, not allowing me a second to suck in the breath that had been lost when this beating began. A sharp, stabbing pain that was definitely a broken rib shot through my chest, and black swarmed my vision. It all became too much, and my eyelids started to fall shut, unconsciousness taking hold.

Just as quickly as it had started, Father backed off, storming out of the room and leaving me in a heap on the floor, slowly coming back to myself. My chest finally untightened and I sucked in as much air as I could, panting and coughing and sobbing at how much breathing hurt. I still didn’t understand. What was the point of all that? All… All he did was hurt me, and I still didn’t know what he meant when he said that I failed. Was it even possible for me to understand? Maybe… Maybe I was just too stupid. That was why Father was always there to tell me what to do. Without him, maybe I would just be too dumb to understand anything. Maybe I really was just a dumb, stupid, barely-a-person animal, just like he said. 

I clenched my teeth, trying to stop crying. Every sob was like another kick in the chest, and it was excruciating. I really should’ve tried to get up and treat my wounds, but the thought of moving right now made panic claw up my throat. At least there was the reassurance that I had nothing else to do today, so I had all the time in the world to just lie here and feel sorry for myself. There was no need to force myself up just yet.

I heard the door slide back open; heard Father’s footsteps across the tile floor, and cold dread washed over me like ice water.

My vision was still blurry, so I couldn’t quite make out his face as he approached, but I could see what he was holding. In one hand: a knife. In the other: a bucket, sloshing with liquid.

“Oh good,” he said, voice lilting with menace. “You’re still conscious.”

“Wh… Wha…?” I tried to speak through my busted mouth, but it wasn’t quite following my instructions. Everything felt too thick and heavy.

“Your lesson isn’t over yet, Jordyn. We don’t stop until you understand.”

Panic shot through me like a bullet, and I started hyperventilating. “P-please… N-no more…”

Father shook his head. “You need to know the cost of your negligence. You need to know what you put those two men through by failing them today.”

He put the bucket down and grabbed the back of my neck, dragging me painfully to my feet. I could barely keep my balance, but Father’s hand remained in place and held me steady as the world spun around me.

Something cold and sharp poked my belly a split second before a line of fire parted my skin; Father’s knife cutting a shallow slice into my abdomen. I screamed as the agony struck through my nerves like lightning, thrashing and trying to escape. Father’s hand maintained its iron grip.

“Because you couldn’t maintain protective vigilance over all members of the raid team today, both of those men had to suffer through the excruciating experience of having their throats slit.” 

The knife came again in time with his last word, cutting perpendicularly through the previous wound. I dry-heaved. My hands remained at my sides, refusing to move and defend me no matter how badly I needed it. Father wanted to teach me a lesson, and I’d already failed once today. I could not disobey him again.

He let go of my neck and I dropped to my knees, clutching at the wound with blood-slicked hands. The knife clattered to the ground and Father dragged the bucket over until it was right in front of me. He got to his knees at my side and his hand returned to its place at my nape.

I had no strength left, and as such Father had no issues shoving my face down into the cold water filling the bucket. The shock made me suck in a breath, sending water shooting up my sinuses and into my lungs. I instinctively coughed and tried to get any air at all, but that only made it worse. Forcing back against Father’s hand did nothing. My hands still refused to do anything to help me, as if something was holding them back, keeping them from acting against Father’s will. It wasn’t a conscious choice anymore; I needed to get out of this water, but they just wouldn’t listen. Shadows wouldn’t amass and do my bidding. I couldn’t go against him. I couldn’t fight back. I was helpless, and it was going to kill me.

Finally, Father pulled my head out of the bucket. I coughed and sputtered, wheezing any air I could through my water-logged throat. Please, god, let it be over.

“Because their throats were slit, they died in agony, drowning slowly in their own blood,” Father said. “It’s not a good experience, is it?”

I shook my head as best I could with his hand holding me in place.

“Do you understand yet, Jordyn? Do you know how you failed, and what your failure put those men through?”

“Y-yes, yes, I u-understand, sir.” It was the truth. I understood.

He pursed his lips. “See, I don’t think you do. Until you’ve experienced both of their pain, I really don’t think you can understand. You’ve already been cut twice, sure, but the drowning? I just don’t think you get it yet.”

My eyes went wide. Father dunked me under the water again.

It was too much. I just couldn’t take it anymore. Every single part of my body was in pain. My face throbbed relentlessly. My lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and my abs burned from the effort of trying to fight back. Every movement still sent a spike of anguish shooting through my chest. My back ached from bending over. The cuts on my belly stung endlessly. I just wanted it to end. 

Father’s hand wasn’t moving. This was it; I was going to die. After everything I’d survived, I was going to die while getting taught a lesson because I was too stupid to understand a simple concept. Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for this life. Blackness swarmed around my vision, closing in. I accepted it.

Once again, right as I was teased with some sort of release from this agonising consciousness, Father ripped it away at the last moment. My head was pulled out of the water and Father finally released his grip. My body went slack without his support and I collapsed to the floor, knocking the bucket over as oxygen and feeling slowly returned to my tingling, dying body.

“Now, you understand,” Father said.

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. I was too busy trying to figure out how to breathe again.

“What do you say, Jordyn?”

Despite my overall lethargy, my brain kicked into overdrive trying to parse that question. Getting it wrong would mean this lesson wouldn’t be over yet. Father would still have to teach me more. He would have to take more time out of his day to discipline me for my stupidity. I needed to get this right; I needed to prove that I could be good for him in all the ways he deserved. I was lucky to get to even be in his presence.

“Th… thank you…” I rasped. “F-for… For helping me… u-understand…”

“Good girl.”

In the distance, I heard the door slide open. Mr. Sadler’s voice echoed around my head.

“Sir, we've finished- Oh. Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Father stood up. “Just dolling out some discipline. Don't worry, we just finished. What were you saying?”

“We've finished analysing that feather from the scene. You were right, it came from G-5’s wings.”

“Thought so. Seems that girl is dedicated to being a thorn in my side. No matter, we'll find out where she's hiding eventually. Then, Seven will take care of her. Won't you, Jordyn?”

I was too stupid to know what they were talking about, but it seemed prudent to reply with an affirmative. Unfortunately, I seemed to finally have lost control of my body, and all I could manage was a moan that sounded vaguely like a yes.

“Very good,” Father replied. “Now, patch yourself up and take a shower. You stink.” With that, Father and Mr. Sadler left my room, and I finally, finally, passed out.

Taglist: @steelandblood @sapphicwhump @urnumber1star @alsolucakairomi @idkwhattodowiththisaltiamsorry

@iamheretohurt @anoyedartist @dontyoubleedoutonme

Hope all those work correctly this time! post creator is ass at telling you if your tags are actually functional. Anyone who has any advice I could really use it!

Huuuuuge shoutout to @anoyedartist who did some awesome fanart of Jordyn that you can check out here. Go and give them some love!

Thanks sm for reading :) Don't be afraid to leave a comment and let me know what you thought! It sustains me. Reblogs also very appreciated :)

gonna do another chapter of my book before the next one so it'll be a bit of a wait again. Stay tuned!

and now sketches with the captain

POOR CARRIE ;_; hope she and the rest of the fam team up and Kill Bill (ref)

i don't wanna finish the comic... kinda a long-ish fic detailing the relationship between Carrie and Ford. They're a fun dynamic that I didn't consider enough while I was first making her so... it's happening now.

Carrie meets Ford just hours after the dust settles on his arrival. She'd have been there sooner, but as it turns out, opening a direct portal between dimensions will have some adverse affects on a girl whose perception is split between them; migraines don't get much worse than that.

She rushes up to the Mystery Shack as soon as she can. The world hadn't ended and there are no new monsters lurking around and her friends are a little banged up but otherwise unharmed, but Carrie can't find it in herself to be relieved.

Mabel introduces him as her new Grunkle Ford, who had been stuck in between dimensions.

It's hard to describe exactly what Carrie sees when she looks at him, because how do you describe seeing a concept that should be imperceptible? But what's important is this: she looks at him and she knows, sure as she knows about the stained-glass window and her eyes when she looks in the mirror.

That man is a monster.

He's the one who built the shack and he's the author of Dipper's journal and Mr. Pines' brother and Mabel's Grunkle, and traces of Bill's power linger around him, inside his head and heart and soul, invisible to all but her.

She relaxes her posture and flashes a smile like she always does and jokes that at least one's taste in decor isn't genetic. The town returns to normal, as it is wont to do, and Carrie tries not to let show the sick feeling in her belly every time she sees their old-new resident scientist around the shack or the woods.

Ford, for his part, isn't oblivious to the gold-rimmed eyes that track his every move through the forest, nor way the children's friend's smile gives way to a dark glower whenever they're not looking. He can't imagine what he might've done to warrant this, being that he has said maybe twenty words to her ever, but it's very obviously not a priority. He carries on with his research and leaves her to her ire.

It comes to a head while Stan and the children are off on a road trip... something about rivaling tourist traps and vandalism. (Ford won't be bailing them out if things go south, he tells himself.) He's researching ways to protect the Shack from Bill's influence, when at some point he falls asleep. His dreams are suspiciously undisturbed.

When he wakes up, Carrie is standing over him with a kitchen knife poised over her head, ready to strike.

The next instant, she's on the floor. She scrambles back. Her expression is one of absolute terror.

"I hadn't expected you to take things this far," Ford says. He picks up the knife from where it had landed. Carrie yelps and puts up her arms defensively.

"Stay away from me!" She yells, "Don't come any closer!"

Ford doesn't know what to make of this situation, at first. This child had shown a clear disdain for him from the moment she laid eyes on him, and that dislike had culminated in her trying to kill him in his sleep. The logical course of action is to subdue her, as he has done, and inform the authorities.

Except.

He has heard much about the children's adventures over the summer, and through all of them, Carrie has been painted as cheerful, laid back despite her oddities. Every time he sees her in the company of others (really anyone except him,) she's smiling and attentive, always ready with a quip or a rambling story. Her current demeanor is uncharacteristic- reserved only for him. Why?

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says. She shakes her head.

"I'm not stupid! I know what you are!"

What?

"What?"

The glare she shoots him would be scathing were it not for the tears running down her face.

"I can see it! Did you think I wouldn't know? Did he not tell you I would?"

He feels like he's about a hundred steps behind in this conversation.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't try to- don't try to play dumb! I know you made a deal with Bill Cipher!"

Ford's blood runs cold. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out, not at first. Carrie continues yelling.

"I'm not stupid, and I'm not going to let you hurt anyone! I- can't let you hurt anyone! I'll kill you if that's what it takes!"

Oh. Oh.

He sets the knife down on the end table and sinks to the ground slowly. He meets her eyes, properly taking in the glowing gold triangle that surrounds her pupil. Were it not for her outburst, he might have assumed... well, he isn't sure what he would have thought.

"I'm not sure how you know about Bill, but I assure you, I am not working with him. I was tricked many years ago and have worked tirelessly to stop him ever since."

She seems taken aback by that admission, but she only falters for a moment.

"Why should I believe you? He's a good liar, in case you didn't know."

Trust no one. Carrie hasn't see that phrase, can't have seen it, but she lives by it all the same. It would be commendable, were it not heartbreaking.

"Look at my eyes- my pupils. I'm not possessed by Bill, nor can I ever be possessed by him again. I've made sure of that." He knocks his fist against his forehead. The metallic sound fills the silence.

Carrie studies him for a long moment. Her gaze is searching, analytical. Whatever she's looking for, she seems to find it, as a little bit of tension slips from her shoulders. She gathers her knees to her chest and keeps staring at Ford.

"I see him... in the window, the rug... all over town... he's always- always watching. And nobody else knows. Nobody else can see."

She lifts up her right arm to show off the woven bracelet she's wearing.

"He can't possess me either. I made sure to... it's a ward."

Ford's eyes widen. "A ward? How did you manage to create one? How does it work?"

"It's not... I didn't make it. It's a gift from-" she pauses, considering her next words carefully. If it would be alright to tell anyone what she sees, it would be Dr. Pines, she thinks. But the thought makes her feel slimy and scared. Maybe not. "-a friend. I don't think I can get more."

She buries her chin deeper in her knees. "I'm not going to give you mine to study, either. So don't even ask."

Silence.

"I'm not sorry. And I'll deny it if you try to tell anyone."

That startles a small laugh out of him. How bold.

"Well, I can't argue with that. If I were working with Bill, you wouldn't have been wrong for what you did. But it was still reckless. Bill is powerful beyond imagination. It wouldn't take him a second to hurt you."

She nods, looking embarassed.

"Also, this would have been a very poorly executed murder. You're wearing easily identifiable clothes, and you don't even have gloves on. You'd be identified and found quickly. And what were you planning to do with the body?"

She giggles tearfully. "Well, the next time I try to murder you I'll be more prepared."

And that's the kind of thing the Carrie of Mabel and Dipper's descriptions would say. Her expression is still reserved, and she still leans a little bit away from him as he stands, but it is something.

"Well, since we're both awake, what say you to some ice cream? I'd like to ask you what you know about that ward of yours."

She rises to her feet as well. "I can't tell you a whole lot, but I'm not going to turn down ice cream," she replies.

I can't tell you much isn't the same as I don't know much, and they're both quite aware of that fact. But it's okay. There's time.