#but is it my fault that she's so perfect to whump?

[a-spes]

I litteraly can't stop thinking about this post from @whumped-by-glitter ~ Like, can we (please) take a minute to think about how perfect it's for Wandanat or BlackHill x young!R where they take her out of the Red Room?? | Warnings & Tags : messy blurb? (imagine? idk, just wanting to share my thoughts, and couldn't stop writing), mainly BlackHill, mentions of the Red Room/past abuses, no idea if that makes sense. Imagine, teen or young adult R that fails a mission, and is captured by SHIELD/The Avengers. R isn't really cooperative, even if she is not under mind control anymore, she firmly believes that. However, Nat just can't accept the idea of leaving her rotting in a cell for the rest of her life for something that isn't really her fault. Despite what R can say, Natasha wants to believe that it's not true, and that she will be able to show her that life is way more than the Red Room.

But it's not that easy. Nat more than anyone else knows that you don't come back from the Red Room that easily, and she can only assumes that it would be worst for someone that went under mind control. And she was right. At first, she tried to introduce you to how life outside is, how sweet it could be, but she quickly noticed that it didn't work. Whenever she asks you a question about what you would like, she gets no answer. If she doesn't tell you to eat or to go somewhere, you don't do it. The amount of time you didn't followed her or talked because she didn't especially told you to do so is insane, especially in the beginning. So she decides to do what she thinks it's best, even if she hates it: giving you order, being stern with you, offering you a place you know, where you feel safe (no matter how sick it's) because you can predict it, a space where you'll be fine as long as you do as your ask. The world is a big and scary place in which to evolve in, especially when you don't have the keys to understand it - what you do something you're not supposed to, and you're punished for that? R will eventually come here, but it'll definitely takes a lot of time.

But obvsiouly Nat' is hating herself for that. She knows she has to do it, for you, but it doesn't make it easier. She does it because she believes it will help you to feel better, and because if you're under her orders, they have less reasons to be worried that you would attend something under Dreykov's name (or try to go back to him). She feels guilty, and old thoughts about her not being better than the man that made them are coming back. But Maria/Wands are here to help their wife <3

AND SO, here is how I see things if it's WandaNat we're talking about - I picture Wands as the soft mom she is shown as in Wandavision, and she would definitely not appreciate Nat's methods. She trusts her wife, she knows that she has her reasons, and it must be the best way to help you, but she still doesn't like it. She hates the way you always look down, the way you would do everything her wife is asking without thinking twice about it, and most of it, she hates when you're calling Nat' "ma'am" or something else of that kind. She hates even more than her wife isn't saying anything. She didn't know you for long, but she already loves you as her own, and it pains her when you reject her. Sometimes, she and Nat would argue about the whole situation (and those arguments would definitely go too far).

BUT imagine if it's BlackHill?? Even better in my opinion, and definitely can't stop thinking about it ~ Because, unlike Wanda, Maria is directly concerned. She read your file, she saw footages of you killing dozens of people, she tracked you, lost men in the process, and she saw how you didn't seem to regret anything when she questioned you. So Maria has every reasons to be worried, especially for her wife's security (physically and mentally). What if it's just a part of a biggest plan to attempt to kill the redhead? Or worst, to take her back there? I can easily Maria being upset, and taking it out on the other recruit she is training (poor them), not daring to do much more than glaring at you, knowing her wife wouldn't appreciate. And even if she doesn't appreciate R, she trusts and love her wife, so she lets her do her thing. But she is always somewhere looking at you with a stern face, waiting for the moment you would make a mistake to step-in. But you never really make a mistake, always following Nat's orders at the perfection, which is kinda frustrating because then she has no reason to get rid of you. Except if one day R's misunderstood one of Nat's orders, which lead to a heavy situation <3 It's honestly the only situation I imagine leading to an argument between Maria & Nat. Like, maybe you hurt someone or stole something or idk, thinking you did good, and they would be proud, but when you come in the room they're just looking at you with that shocked face. But you did what you had to, no? That's exactly what you were asked to do, so why are they angry? AND IMAGINE THE ANGST FROM NOW. R's confusion, Nat' desesperatly trying to find a solution, trying to convince Maria that it was just a mistake (that was her fault because she is the one that wasn't careful with her words) but she doesn't change her mind. Pulling the "what if it happens again?" and "I am your superior, you don't get to discuss my order" cards, knowing that it would pain Nat', but she has to do it in order to keep her safe. Bonus point if Nat turns to Fury, trying to convince him as she knows her wife won't change her mind, but he doesn't say much, just agreeing with her agent, mumbling a simple "sorry" Nat doesn't want to hear. Obviously, it would eventually

AND (because there is more), I also can't stop thinking about that comment from @light-me-on-pyre ;

Like, I can easily imagine R hating Nat'. It would make so much sense because she grew up in a place where Nat' was pictured as the enemy, the one that betrayed "the ones that gave everything to her". But it wouldn't be the exact reason why R is hating Nat'. I mean, right, she hates her because she left, but mainly because of the consequences it had for the ones that came after - the worsened conditions, the mind control, etc - and how she succeed what's supposed to be impossible: leaving the Red Room. Not only physically, but mentally. Imagine R seeing Nat' on the news when she is on a mission or seeing her interacting with Maria/the Avengers, witnessing Nat' being happy. It's something she was told she doesn't deserve/will never have from a young age, so why would Nat' have the right to be happy when so many didn't? It was so much easier to hate on Nat' than on Dreykov all these years because she wasn't here, and no one would blame her to do so. But now? It's easier to continue hating Nat', for R to convince herself that the redhead is bad despite the appearances because it's easier than admitting that her whole life is a lie (kinda). And the fact that Nat' has to take the "bad guy" role in order to help R only makes things easier because, in the end, she is not different from the others, right? And so, as Nat' can't provide R the comfort she needs, it's all on Maria (at least for the beginning) who doesn't have a choice. But we all know that despite her cold demeanour, she is all soft, she is just scared for the ones she loves <3 Which includes Nat', because she saw how her wife is affected by your arrival. First, she has nightmares again because, with you, inevitably came back old memories and traumas. Then, Maria can see how her wife is so invested in your case that she barely sleep/eat/ (which is one of the reasons why she doesn't really appreciate R ...). But also, what would happen if they can't save you?

Bonus point if things get better but something happen, and everything get worse again, throwing away all these months of progress. But what if they don't have the patience to start all over again?

It's definitely (one of) my favorite trope because the amount of angst/comfort it holds is insane, and I am going crazy about it (you can tell by the lenght of that post that was supposed to be a few lines ...). Do I want to write something like that when I already have too many WIPs? Yes. Will I do it? I don't know, but I'll definitely be thinking about it 24/24 & 7/7.

[morimementa]

Things I like about Trolls 3

Floyd reassuring Branch the actions of adults are not his fault.

The giant water slide doodle.

Bruce's weight gain isn't played for humor. In fact, Poppy still sees him as a heart throb and it's presented more as a facet of him discovering himself rather than a personal failing.

The macramé interior of Branch's old house.

Everything looks like it has The Good Textures and I want to touch it. I've been underestimating the joys of Computer Animation.

The reoccurring felt and yarn crafts make me feel very seen.

Bridget and Gristle don't have to be conventionally cute to be main characters.

On that note, they're so sappy and cuddly they remind me of me and my boyfriend.

Bridget and Gristle being barely annoyed that their wedding is interrupted for a completely unrelated issue.

I hope Tiny's coffee is decaf because that child doesn't need more energy.

Floyd is my precious baby girl and I want to gently hold him and reassure him that those big rubber meanies won't hurt him anymore.

I'm sewing a Floyd plush to do exactly that.

The officiant at the royal wedding.

Poppy reassuring Branch that despite what his abandonment issues are telling him, she won't leave him.

Poppy getting a sister and it's everything she dreamed of. She deserves good things.

Floyd whump. I want ALL the fics of him being comforted!

Poppy being all protective of Branch. We love protective girl friends in this house.

The Trolls fighting with toys like finger traps and sticky hands.

There's glitter everywhere, even in the toilet water.

Don't sue me, but I like Crimp. She's just a little creacher.

I bet the reason Vacay is so popular is because being able to bathe in Orbeez sounds like sensory paradise.

Bruce's kids are very realistic kids.

Everything in this movie looks like a fun toy and it makes me happy. I know this is probably to peddle products but I still like it.

Mount Rageous's aesthetic balances between rubber hose Betty Spaghetti people and everything being made of faceted crystal which I didn't realize would work so well.

No one thought about the fact that the authorities would be able to get Floyd to safety easily and then they could do the perfect family harmony on their own time to break the bottle. But then we wouldn't have a movie.

Rhonda.

[syncopein3d]

The Warm One Part 2: Stay

Part 1

CW/relevant tropes (I'm a bit new to this format, so let me know if I miss any): living weapon, lady whump, magic whump, traumatic restraints, implied past injury, off-screen whumper, servant caretaker, other species caretaker (Orc), brief mention of pedestrian nudity.

"Tonight the Master of Sorceries comes to take me to supper with Their Divine Majesties, may they live forever," the weapon says. She sits at the vanity in a silver brocade gown as her thin brown hair is aggressively twisted and pinned in an elaborate arrangement of little curls and loops. The maid isn't cruel on purpose. She is afraid, in a hurry to be gone. Another paints the weapon's face dead white to cover her dark, baggy eyes as she looks up into the mirror's reflection.

"Yes, Milady," says the Orc there. He stands with his hands at his sides, watching.

"The Master likes them to see how much control he has before the campaign begins. So I may be late. You can go to bed if you get tired. Yours is behind the curtain."

"Yes, Milady." They haven't put him into corsets, thank goodness, so she can still see his belly hanging over his belt in his velvet tunic. He towers over the maids, looking awkward with his black hair hair newly cut short. The eyes that regard her curiously are yellow and slit-pupiled sideways, like a frog. He is sort of an olive color, also like a frog. The weapon likes that.

"They'll bring you food, as much as you want. Is there anyone you need to tell?"

"No, Milady. My parents are with the gods. My daughter is in the army."

"Her mother?" the weapon asks.

"She was at the delaying action at Kalthanos," the Orc says. "Some ten years now." The weapon nods, producing a worried cluck from the maid.

"Yes. The Master was waiting for me to recover so he could use me again. I remember. I am sorry that I caused her death."

"You didn't cause her death," the Orc says. "A Kalthan archer did. I was there. That's why I was carrying wood. I get lame if I try to run now. Can't keep up with the horses."

This is the most he has so far said in one go. Through the fog of pain and weakness the weapon looks at him with something Iike surprise. It is a new idea that something might not be her fault. He looks back without any suggestion of fear or anger or artifice, only simple curiosity. This, too, is new.

There is a knock at the door. The weapon rises, tightly bound by corsetry and pins, her gorgeous golden bracers heavy on her wrists and a golden comb heavy atop the confection of hair. She has never scarred so much that she can't feel the twin needles in her wrist veins.

The Master of Sorceries is waiting in the hallway as sunset stripes the carpets with gold. He is older than the weapon, but he looks younger. He is handsome, perfectly groomed, broad-shouldered and athletic and well-rested. His body is nearly perfect and his eyes are so very blue. The weapon looks back at her orc, huge, a little fat, the colors of a frog. And she smiles very slightly as she turns to go.

"Something amuses you?" The Master of Sorceries asks, his silken tone a warning.

"I am only pleased with your gift, Master. Thank you."

"So you will behave tonight, then?" he asks.

"Yes. I will be very well-behaved, Master."

When she returns, night has fallen. Maids hustle her inside to peel her out of her expensive garments and hang them up, smoothing them anxiously. The Orc is there poking up the fire. He turns away politely. The chemical wash to get the makeup layer burns a little as another maid works on her face.

"I don't care if you see," she says. "On campaign you will probably have to help. I'm sorry," she adds wearily.

"Don't be sorry, Milady." He turns back in time to see the shift come off over her head. The layers of stiffened fabric are meant to support more bosom than she has, oddly stuffed with rags, as if it was made for someone a little heavier. Her body is thin and wasted, every rib able to be counted. A spreading nest of scars covers the front of her body from collarbones to the thin fuzz of the pubic mound. It looks red and angry against the very pale skin, a seam and many branches. "What happened?" he asks, staring at it.

"The shift is tulle," the weapon says, absently misunderstanding the question. "It scratches." The scars vanish under a woolen robe, the maids push slippers onto her feet, and then they yank the pins out of her hair and flee, pushing the brush into her hand. She looks at it blankly, swaying as her support vanishes. What does she usually do at this point? Right. She usually falls over. Her knees are starting to buckle when suddenly, the world goes past slightly downwards and now she is surrounded by warmth. The Orc carries her over to the chair by the fire and sets her there, a little sideways. A huge hand appears around her shoulder, holding the brush. She looks at it blankly for a long moment before she nods.

"Very good, Milady." She expects him to be rougher with her hair than the maids are, but she is too limp to brace herself. So it comes as a surprise when his fingers begin carefully teasing the knots out. The weapon sits quietly, bathed in unexpected comfort, struggling to stay awake.

"What's your name?" she asks eventually, words a little slurred.

"Aldo, Milady."

"Just Aldo?"

"Just Aldo. Does Milady have a name?"

"No," she says. "I am the Wrath of the King. There was one before me. There will be another when I'm gone."

He is quiet as he works on her hair for a while. Now she can feel the bristles of the brush, but carefully, never scraping hard against her scalp.

"You've done this before," she says. Her voice is very small now. She hardly knows what she said. The pain in her wrists is constant, but this feels good. Nothing has felt good in this small, safe way in a long, long time. It washes over her in somnolent, gentle waves.

"My daughter had fine hair when she was small." For a moment his hand cups her skull and the back of her neck, gently turning her, and the wash of sheer overwhelming warmth fades the world completely away. She isn't sorry to see it go as her head grows heavy in his hand.

When next she knows anything, she is being laid down on the mattress, bare feet tucked in between cold silk sheets. She shivers, blindly groping without opening her eyes. One hand tangles in warm velvet, the hem of the Orc's tunic.

"Stay," she says. "Please. You can keep all your clothes on, just - stay."

"Yes," he says. There's no 'Milady' this time. She hears him pushing off his indoor boots and unbuckling his hard belt, and then the huge mattress indents beside her, rolling her down a small slope. His hands check her at shoulder and hip as he settles on his side. Heat begins to build under the covers immediately. The weapon presses herself weakly against the big soft belly. A heavy arm slides around her. Later she will remember that he doesn't feel stiff, tense. The muscle under the fat lies slack.

"I might make noises," she says. "Bad ones. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you, Aldo."

"I'm not afraid." Now she can feel the basso rumble of his voice through his body. "You can sleep. It's all right."

"You'll be here?" she is fighting it, even though she can't open her eyes.

"I'll be here. Shhhh, shh."

She doesn't know if it's true or not, but she wants it to be badly enough to let go. The world slides away down a dark tunnel.

There will be nightmares. There always are. But this time Aldo will be there to rub her back just a little, quietly, and tell her they're not real. And for a little while it will be all right.

Part 3

[em-writes-stuff]

branding

day 9 of two weeks of whump @promptsforyourwhumpfic

578 words

villain, henchman

warnings: descriptions of past abuse, branding, guilt, ??

part one | part two | part three

---

Henchman tied off the trash bag with Villain’s old clothes in it and pulled it out of the trash can. She swung it over her shoulder and went outside to toss it in the dumpster. Taking a deep breath of the cold winter air, she collected herself. All the grief she’d been holding in since Villain’s funeral was somehow more now that he wasn’t dead. 

She’s going to lose him all over again and it hurts even more because where was he these past three months? Three months where he was being hurt? Three months she could’ve been looking for him, but didn’t. All because she wanted to believe he was dead? Because anything other than that meant he was alone, scared and hurting? 

It wasn’t an excuse. 

She cleared her throat and shook her head, then continued on with tossing the trash bag into the dumpster. The lid slammed shut, pushing out a whiff of foul-smelling trash air right into Henchman's face. She coughed and pulled away from the dumpster. 

Locking the door, she stared down the hallway at Villain’s closed door and noticed the light shining from under the door. Her head tilted and she walked down the hallway before tentatively knocking on the door, “Villain? Can I come in?” 

Stuff shuffled on the other side of the door and he opened it for her, eyes red with tears. “Yeah?” 

“Nothing, I just figured you’d be sleeping, I wanted to check on you.” 

He scratched the side of his head and slumped against the wall, “I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yeah. I’m here, so better than I’ve been in a while.” 

“Do you…want to talk about it?” She offered. 

He exhaled heavily and nodded, but didn’t say anything. He traced the seam along his sweatpants and looked at the ground. “You know that old train station? The one that legally isn’t operational because of the mold? Yeah, well. Turns out it’s not blocked off.” 

“The one two blocks from here?” she said. Two blocks? How was he only two blocks away from her this whole time? 

He nodded and cleared his throat. “Hero has access to it, because of course he does. Well, the station has a jail-type room. And Hero made it into the perfect place for me. I had a radio and…nothing else. But it was fine, because I knew what was happening up here. And I always knew what day it was. And that was enough for me.” 

He stopped and slid down the wall, his knees folded against his chest. Henchman did the same, her eyes locked on the folds of his clothes-there was a lot more loose fabric than before. He’d lost so much of his size.

“I got out once. But barely made it out of my room before he caught me. That’s when he did this-” Villain pulled the waistband of his sweatpants down just enough for Henchman to see bubbled skin in the shape of Hero’s sigil- “Yeah, he wasn’t playing around.” 

Henchman’s eyes locked on the brand, even after he let go of the waistband, letting the fabric cover it once again. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “This is all-all my fault. I should’ve known it wasn’t you. I should’ve-”

“Stop,” Villain interrupted. “How could you have known? There was a body, and I was the only person there. You couldn’t have known.” 

“But-” 

“No.” 

She tore her eyes away from the brand and looked at him, “Ok.” 

[goneahead]

so **shuffles feet** @cowandcalf and @stephmcx tagged me way back when Tarquinus was still king. In my defense, it was summer and I was summering. (estivation really should be a hobby. just saying)

Five fic recs of my own personal fics (under the cut ‘cuz I got long-winded)

note 1: All of my fic is on Dreamwidth, some of it has been cross-posted to A03.

Click for lists-> Masterpost of A03 fics Masterpost of all my fic

note 2: My dreamwidth account is friend-locked, but you can drop me a DM if you need an invite.

note 3: fic titles are clickable links. The USDA recommends consuming a minimum three fanfics a day in order to stay properly hydrated.

O-Ate-Four

Addams Family and Avengers 530 words

pairing: none, gen

Why I wrote It: Because my muse is a seductive temptress. And also because I’m convinced the Addams family has to exist in the same world where **checks notes** people fight aliens with pointy sticks.

Why you should read it: Natasha, Wednesday, French cemetery. Come on, what else do you need for a perfect Halloween fic?

Talking about pointy sticks, I may have written an entire fic where Hawkeye renovates a cabin. My ability to write truly riveting plots is… questionable😜

Operation: Cupcakes 1,427 words

pairing: Steve McGarrett/Danny Williams but gen

Why I wrote it: Because the only thing better than writing about cupcakes is writing about red velvet cupcakes. No really, thats the plot. Did I mention my riveting plots?😆

Why you should read it: Because there is a serious dearth of McDanno baking fics. And because there are red velvet cupcakes.

Beam Me Up, Danno

Hawaii Five-0 42,995 (including sequel)

Why I wrote it: Either this was a whumptober fic that got out of hand—or my muse tied me up and threatened to put a Ceti eel in my ear if I didn’t write it. Take your pick.

Why you should read it: Because the world needs a Hawaii Five-0 Star Trek AU? Also, there is Cardassian poetry, diplomatic javelining, and aliens that love butter pecan ice cream.

Yes, this is my second ‘Hawaii Five-0 in space’ AU, and I’m totally done writing about aliens. **hides my Hawaii Five-0 MIB wip behind my back**

Care and Feeding of a Super Seal

Hawaii Five-0 59,934 words

pairing: Steve McGarrett/Danny Williams

Why I wrote it: This is my coda for the Hawaii Five 0 finale and all @cowandcalf’s fault. My muse agreed with all her points in this meta she wrote and… stuff happened. Also, I was obsessing thinking in a very normal fashion about how the ohana deserved better, too.

Why you should read it: I did my best to explain the ending, various plot holes the size of an spider crab, and a few other things that have bugged fans over the years. There’s also Steve!whump, some badass!Danny, and a generous sprinkling of ohana. Most importantly, the boys talk about diving, and get their happy ever after.

Beasts and Outlaws note: this fic is only on dreamwidth

Supernatural 145, 622 words

pairing: Dean Winchester/OMC

Why I wrote it: I’ve always wanted a paranormal fic that felt like it was set in the southwest, so I decided to write one cleverly disguised as a Supernatural AU.

Why you should read it: Where else are you going to get a fic with nagueles, rain gods, and the FBI? Also, Old Man Coyote makes a random appearance and Dean’s in love with a were-cougar.

And yes, I wrote a Hawaii Five-0 AU where I turned Chin into a were-leopard but its totally not the same thing😂

tagging: @itwoodbeprefect @simplyn2deep and @herveiwfromthefloor

[allthemurders]

i found your sarah barnaby whump posts and I'm desperate for more do u have any more ideas or thoughts ahdjsj

HELLO HI I AM ALWAYS DOWN TO TALK ABOUT SARAH BARNABY WHUMP!! i have So Many thoughts and ideas hehehehehe

ngl it’s been A While since i last watched midsomer tho, so my memories of it are all a bit hazy and i’ve probably misremembered some plot points / timings / etc. this is also why some of these ideas are Extremely Vague hgkfjdjfhf

(i’m gonna put it all under the cut bc the post got fairly long, wHoOpS)

ep-specific whump:

s19 ep5 - death by persuasion : the aim is a little off with the warning shot during the ball, and sarah gets hit. or she gets hit by a mirror shard. either way, she’s in a regency era ball gown and she is bleeding out while john frantically tries to help her. (this naturally gives her ideas for her book, much to john’s concern)

s20 ep2 - death of the small coppers : i was So sure sarah was gonna end up getting caught helping birgitte with her investigation and that some sort of whump would play out with that. i have no real thoughts of what or how or why exactly, but i Need it. possibly could have birgitte & sarah being caught snooping and subsequently getting whumped together??? helping each other stay strong throughout it, then working out an escape plan and getting themselves out before john & jamie can even attempt to rescue them??? also unrelated but sarah should’ve been there for the jamie whump scene at the end i stg

s21 ep2 - the miniature murders : THE MURDERER WAS LITERALLY IN JOHN & SARAH’S HOUSE WITH SARAH & BETTY. WHY DID NOTHING HAPPEN WITH THIS?????? MIDSOMER WRITERS HATE ME I STG 😭😭 anyways what if john & jamie rush in, john telling sarah to take betty to play in her room, but sarah doesn’t get the opportunity to leave?? the murderer grabs her in a panic and pulls a knife (or possibly a dangerous improvised weapon of some kind, i’m hazy on the details of this ep) and takes her hostage. jamie hurries betty upstairs on john’s orders, trying his best to console her and answer her questions while also massively worrying about his adoptive mum sarah. john is left to talk the murderer down on his own

s22 ep5 - for death prepare : things go massively wrong when sarah is on stage. i’m talking “murderer walks on stage in full costume with an actual extremely lethal sword or a period-accurate gun” kind of massively wrong. “the last guy he wants to kill is also on stage” kind of massively wrong. “sarah just gets in the way of his revenge and ends up with a severe wound” kind of massively wrong. (john and jamie get there in time to see it happen but too late to actually stop it. they both blame themselves for not getting there sooner)

s23 ep1 - the blacktrees prophecy : so many vague and depressing thoughts about sarah having a Bad Childhood™ with far too much pressure on her to always be perfect, because nothing was ever good enough for her mum no matter how hard she tried. (*literally looks so upset by the thought of her mum coming to stay that john thinks she’s straight up died* / “oh, i’m just touching up a few patches [of paint on the walls]. you know how my mother likes to point out every little imperfection” / “the house is, er… looking lovely” “well, i’m sure she’ll find fault somewhere”). HER SCENES IN THIS EP PHYSICALLY HURT ME HONESTLY. SHE IS SO STRESSED AND TENSE,,,,,,,,, and then basically as soon as she finds out her mum’s going to her sister’s instead you can See this massive weight has been lifted off her. like ik there’s a couple hours between her finding out and the actual scene at the end, bUT STILL. IT’S LIKE FLICKING A SWITCH???? SHE’S SUDDENLY HAPPY AND JOKING WITH JOHN AGAIN??????? sorry this was basically just me repeating canon but i have too many Feelings about it 😭😭

s23 ep3 - a grain of truth : look honestly i don’t really remember anything about this ep other than that sarah was at the place where a murder happened or smth and iirc exactly zero whump came out of this. some whump should’ve come out of this. also weren’t ppl being poisoned with ergot or smth?? why was sarah not poisoned with ergot??

non-ep whump:

john gets a call from betty’s school saying that it’s getting pretty late, will he or sarah be picking her up soon? and he’s a little confused, because it’s meant to be sarah’s day to do the school pickup and it’s not like her to forget, but he figures she must’ve been waylaid by something. he calls her, but it just goes to voicemail. he calls again; still nothing. he’s concerned now, wondering why she isn’t answering, but he knows she sometimes gets stuck in unplanned meetings for ages, so it’s like a low-level concern as he leaves work early to pick betty up. his worry absolutely skyrockets when he finds the front door kicked in, the living room trashed, and the house empty despite sarah’s car being parked up outside. a ransom note and proof of life photos arrive the following morning

john & sarah are held captive together for some reason. john’s being Extremely Annoying in order to get the captors to keep their focus on him, because he’s willing to take all the consequences of their anger if it keeps sarah out of harm’s way. one of the captors eventually hurts sarah to try and keep him in line, and he just goes absolutely feral

sarah should get to watch someone being killed. as a treat (..ok probably not for her, but it would be for me ✌️😎)

tbh most of the rest of my misc ideas are just various other forms of “sarah gets Beaten Up!!” or “sarah gets held hostage to get john to cooperate!!” s o o o yea that is basically all i can think of atm 👀

tysm for the ask, and i really really hope you enjoyed this whump as much as i enjoyed thinking about it!! ✨✨✨

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

"I think that this openness to moral nuance is essential for good whumperflies!" oh this is my favourite sentence ever, tattoo it on my forehead /hj

"You have a whumpee who is probably at fault, who is probably not-the-best-person-alive™️, and you also have a character that is supposed to be -and is perceived as- the rightful party, but is abusive and immoral by definition (because that's what a whumper is, fundamentally)."

Give me all of that contrast! Blur the lines between public perceptions and personal morality and choices, I'm eating it up every single time. HHHHHHHHHHHH

And like, I don't necessarily like these grand scale stories, with like heros and villains and saving the world or whatever (which is what I think of when I see the words 'hero' and 'villain') but I'm such a sucker for when these dynamics and contrasts appear on a small, personal scale.

And the power dynamics it comes with, oh man! I specifically love pet whump for this reason, the in-universe perceptions of "owners" are good/rightful/okay, while in their personal relationship with whumpee they are anything but!

Also about blurring these lines I can yap about the vampire story! Because it's about this!!! Well, kind of, because it goes against the rational perceptions of characters, because I have *opinions.* The whumpee, Carter, is a vampire hunter, and because I'm obsessed with vampires, she absolutely is a "villain" type of character, whose morality is questionable (by me), and the whumper is a vampire, who obviously could never do anything wrong, so he would be the "hero." (I think I tripled the double contrast here, with my personal bias, because the saviour of humans should be the "hero" normally. Or maybe I circled back to not having any contrast... who knows.)

But the vampire gets a backstory and it makes it make a little more sense as to why he is doing what he's doing. Of course it's still absolutely wrong and horrible (/affectionate, I love him, he can't do anything wrong), but there's a reason. This fits really neatly with being a hero. But abusive and very wrong. Ugh

I also love contrasting characters' motives and goals! I especially love it when one is trying to survive and the other is having fun, carrying out a mission or taking revenge! There's something so fascinating about that dynamic, especially if the latter is the whumper and is inherently stronger than the other character.

And I got so off-track here, but yes, patching Whumpees up after hurting them is the best thing ever!! Patching them up, but not changing anything about the way they treat them/still hurting them. Those small acts of kindness that don't change their power imbalance and the whole situation, is the only type of comfort I like in whump, and it's so good to read every time. It's really fun to write, as well.

"it also has a liminal essence to it" YESYESYES I really love liminal stuff, videos/games/pictures/anything and I'm trying really hard to make this sort of thing appear in my writing, but it's so hard to describe when I try to do it! As a kid I used to be able to write these things/settings/metaphors/analogies without a second thought. They're such great tools for playing around with emotions!

Marci does need a cup of hot chocolate, maybe a hug, and probably a shit ton of therapy, but oh well, I don't write that kind of thing. She's perfect the way she is. I adore her.

(I'll finish up the story soon and you can read it in its full glory! It's not long, I think it's like 20-something thousand words long, it's like a novella) :>

I'm sending you an ask as a follow-up, because the other post is getting long (not that I mind, I love this conversation) (also doing the lord's work and trying to keep ask culture alive)

"They are both people. Still human. " YESYESYES a thousand times yes

It's always been like that for me too! And since my interest in philosophy in the recent years I started experimenting even more with characters' morality that adds another flavour to their humanity. I love it when characters feel human and they can be as horrible as their little hearts desire and I can explore and dissect it. It's a wonderful thing to do. This also kind of led me to get rid of the "good guys" vs "bad guys" setup in my writing, they're all just guys. And I'm having sooooo much fun.

"Honestly, I am loving this online videogame! Let's play for a long time together, for an extra long time! But the game over is coming for everyone... and that's what we all share"

In one of the first short stories I ever wrote I made this exact point with a different metaphor. It wasn't written in English, so I'm loosely paraphrasing, but it was about that feeling, when you're sitting in a car and stop at a red light. You look around, see the cars next to you, hear them blast their music, maybe you turn up your own, but eventually that light turns green and you go on, on your own. (Damn this still makes me feel things, and I wrote it over a decade ago)

Also I'm so glad you like Marci!!!! She is my baby and yeah she is absolutely whumpee-shaped, I haven't thought about her in a bit, I shall get back to her once I deem the other story finished.

And speaking of; ugh I can't wait to finish Carter's story (again). I swore to myself that this will be the last rewrite I do. (The whole thing was up for a while, but I literally just took some chapters off a few days ago, so I can fix them up). That story is my child, it's a whole toddler now, it's over two years old, I have two tattoos for it (I can't say I'm normal about it unforch) and it's the longest story I wrote that I planned out from beginning to end (it's nearing 30k words, it's a whole novella)

She's a vampire hunter, who has a bad run-in with a vampire, who's extremely vengeful and has way too much time on his hands. And she dies in the end. It's heartbreaking and I love it so much.

Hi! I am enjoying this conversation a lot too! And, also, I agree: I absolutely love this feature, the asks feature! It's a very unique characteristic, and it really makes this site stand out! Tumblr is about reblogs and asks, these two are basically the entire point of this site, haha!

"I started experimenting even more with the characters' morality that adds another flavor to their humanity."

"They're all just guys."

YES! And you know what? I think that this openness to moral nuance is essential for good whumperflies! One of my favorite dynamic is "Affectionate Hero Whumper/Villain Whumpee" (you can switch out "Hero/Villain" with any kind of good guy or gal/bad guy or gal dichotomy): I just love the contrast, the double contrast even! You have a whumpee who is probably at fault, who is probably not-the-best-person-alive™️, and you also have a character that is supposed to be -and is perceived as- the rightful party, but is abusive and immoral by definition (because that's what a whumper is, fundamentally).

But the whumper is also able to feel pity towards the whumpee at times? I am not interested in whumpers who "enjoy abusing others," I am interested in whumpers who indeed are in bad faith, abuse their victims, but are like: why would I deny them a blanket? Or why should I not comfort them when they need it? I don't like hitting people, but I also like the control/I dislike the way they make me feel not in control/I hate that they challenge my worldview/I hate that they hurt my ego/I think that's what they deserve/Insert X motivation.

Sorry for the tangent, but I just adore this type of contrast! The angst, the confusion of having the hero hit the villain, and then patch them up after? Unbeatable.

Love that metaphor! It truly is suggestive, and it also has a sort of liminal essence to it? Which I love, to be clear !

She is really cute, she just is, sorry, haha! Also, also, she is going through a lot and she needs hot chocolate NOW! Hahaha!

You should continue obsessing over this story, and over Carter! You must, to be honest, haha. You should never be normal about that character and that story, lol! Also feel free hit the DMs, or send asks about your characters, and your favorite tropes, I love ranting and I love hearing other people's rants. I'd really enjoy reading that story, I hope I'll find the time to do so!

[gumnut-logic]

The Ostrich

I wrote fluff! I resisted the whump and fluffed instead. Not my best, but a fun little scene, at least, I hope.

Sparked by this post. So @flyboytracy​ ‘s inspiring fault again along with  @edutainer2022​ whose commentary is, as always, amazing.

Many, many, many, many thanks to @onereyofstarlight​  for all her help yanking my brain out of its spiral. Couldn’t have written it without you. ::hugs tight::

Don’t expect much, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

-o-o-o-

It became habit.

A Virgil instigated habit.

The second eldest had never been tall. Scott always had and if Scott was honest with himself, he used to forget to slow down.

It started in the playground. Scott ran off one day all excited to show Virgil something, thinking his little brother was behind him. So, it was with surprise he turned around to find Virgil nowhere to be found.

Also, it was minor heart attack inducing.

Mom was around somewhere, so Virgil was likely with her, but she was occupied with Johnny, and Dad had impressed on Scott that Mom needed help and Virgil was Scott’s responsibility.

And he was nowhere to be seen.

It was only moments and Virgil was found as soon as Scott back-tracked, but it gave him enough of a scare to remember that his little brother couldn’t always keep up.

And age didn’t change that fact.

As Gordon and Alan appeared he found himself with a whole flock of brothers who, in general, could not keep up. Scott was fast, both in thought and leg length, and he always found himself having to slow down.

It was a relief to go for a walk with Dad, just so he could hit his stride.

Not that he wouldn’t do absolutely anything for his brothers.

He just wanted the freedom to move.

John eventually caught up with him, long, lanky and as determined as Scott in his own way.

But Virgil never did.

He knew his brother tried to compensate for some of it with his strength. Virgil could dead lift the lot of them if he wanted to, far stronger than Scott would ever be. And he was proud of his brother’s achievements. All of his brothers’ achievements.

But long legs was something Virgil would never have.

So, like the Thunderbirds they flew, Virgil was always behind him somewhere.

Unless he slowed down.

It became habit to check his stride, decelerate his ‘bird, step into a calmer pace to stay with his brother.

Scott didn’t mind. In fact, he hardly thought about it anymore. It was just the way of things.

But not now.

Here he could stretch out his legs and run as fast as he wanted. His morning run was time for just him. Time to be himself without the labels, without the expectations, without the need to adapt to others.

He ran the same path every morning. On purpose. He knew every bush, every tree, every obstacle. He knew that by the time he circled the Island the sun would be peeking over the horizon and everything would be bathed in pink and gold.

It was always a beautiful moment and a treat just for himself.

Perfection before the descent of the day.

Of course, it didn’t happen every morning. Life had plenty of interruptions up its sleeve. But he did do this as often as possible.

There was rhythm to his feet hitting the pre-dawn gravel. Power in straining muscles.

And speed.

Scott Tracy freed to the mountain.

He smirked at the idea.

This morning was no different. There were wisps of cloud in the sky and a bit of a chill in the air, usual for this time of year. Subconsciously he checked the wind direction against bare skin and calculated any differences to their usual launch protocols.

The Thunderbirds didn’t require much correction, they made their own weather, but the civilian craft they kept were a little more prone.

And besides, it was just good aeronautics.

As if in answer the breeze stiffened, tangling in his sweaty hair and wrapping warmth around his arms.

The clouds sailed on.

He put more effort into running up the next hill. Being a volcanic island, and relatively young, there were plenty of cliffs, valleys and challenges for his body. And he loved every one of them.

They proved he still had it.

Every day.

And gave him that moment to escape.

“Hey, Ostrich!”

He startled. But the voice was familiar, if unexpected.

He jogged up the last of the incline and sure enough Virgil was standing in the middle of the path.

His brother was in his uniform and for a split second, Scott worried they had a call out, But John wasn’t interrupting him, and the teasing grin on Virgil’s face had no urgency in it.

Scott jogged to a stop, panting. “What are you doing out here, Tank?”

Virgil snorted. “Just testing.”

“What? My patience.”

“Now that wouldn’t be much of a challenge, would it?”

Scott eyed his brother. It was far too early for him to be up. Left to himself, Virgil would sleep well into ten, at least, bar work or a call out. “Did you sleep last night?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. Enough to make Scott wonder if this was actually Gordon wearing a holosuit.

“I’m fine. Still staggering sleep from last Thursday.”

“Exactly. That was last Thursday. You should be sleeping better by now.”

“I’m fine.” His brother frowned at him. “Stop worrying.”

Scott bit back a retort. “You still haven’t told me why you’re out here. Or how you got here.” Let’s just say that while Virgil was known for strolling around the Island, running wasn’t usually in the equation. His tank of a brother burned all his carbs in the gym.

“As I said, testing.”

“Testing what?”

“Equipment.”

“What equipment?” All he could see was his idiot of a brother standing in the middle of the path, obstructing his morning run.

Virgil shrugged. “Are you sure you can’t see anything?”

Scott looked around. There was rock, cliff, bushes, a few trees, the sun poking through Tracy Peak. Damn, he’d missed the sunrise. He frowned. There was already heat haze forming.

“No. Any hints?”

His brother’s smirk was triumphant. He hit his comms. “Brains, the test was a success.”

Virgil’s grin split wide at the excited babble from their genius engineer.

Scott frowned. “What is going on?”

That grin softened into fondness and Virgil touched his wrist control.

Above the both of them, clinging to the cliff an elegant aircraft phased into existence.

Scott’s eyes widened. “Thunderbird Shadow! The stealth tech, you did it?”

Dark eyes shone. “Works like a dream. Flew out here, followed you around for a while, landed her. We figured that if you didn’t notice, most wouldn’t.”

Scott stared up at the black and silver craft that had been under development for months. “She’s ready?”

“Almost. Brains is just finishing up.”

“Can I take her for a spin?” Kayo was going to be so happy. But not until Scott had done his own array of testing.

Virgil arched an eyebrow at him. “Not dressed like that, you’re not. Flight suit required.”

Scott shot him a flat stare before smirking. “Race you back then.”

A snort. “No contest, Ostrich.”

“Then keep in the slow lane, Tank.” Scott darted around him and ran full bolt down into the next valley.

“Hey, don’t do anything stupid!”

Scott yelled back to him. “Sorry, can’t talk. Busy leaving you in the dust.”

He grinned at his brother’s exasperated groan.

Yes, Scott had a habit of stepping back, slowing down, and caring for his family. But there were still times where his natural speed was just what was needed.

Dust included.

-o-o-o-

[scribeoffate]

Scott pls? 🥺👉👈

How I feel about this character

This kid goes through so much and I love it so much for me and hate it for him. It's perfect. Scott is earnest and empathetic and kind. I really feel like his interaction with Matt in fury says so much about Scott and empathy- and he is often empathetic to a fault and I love that too. He really wants to see the best in people! I find that to be Scott's most relatable trait on a personal level. (see every other ask today)

But he's also not a pushover. And he's sardonic and sassy and stubborn. And the stakes when he messes up are so much worse for him. I probably like Scott- whump and Scott- comfort in equal measure and that is rare for me.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Everyone. (No really but if it's Scott ship, I am Interest.)

Ships a I ship a little harder: Kira, Allison, Stiles, Theo, Deucalion, Peter, Derek, Malia, Violet, Boyd, Cora, Kate*

*this could go on forever I stop

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Melissa. I love Melissa and Scott's relationship. It's so far from perfect. The hospital scene? Where she tries to ground him with trembling hands? And he comforts her? Scott's utter devastation while she's crying after the failed date with Peter in s1?

I love them so much because they're both just trying.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

A conversation with Rafael about Scott being a werewolf. There is a scene where said conversation should *go* even.

Thank you for asking!

game

[inagetawaycarxo]

CPD PREFERENCE; Being Voight’s Daughter & Him Finding Out You’re Dating Someone From Intelligence.

��❛ Love Count your blessing! inspired me to request this could I please get a cpd preference/headcanon of y/n being voights daughter and him finding out she is dating one of the team members! Maybe you could do a part 2 to Adams in this request🖤💙❤️❜❜-Anon

WARNINGS:   Crockett trying to steal y/n away from jay, kissing, fluff, angry! Hank, hank in general, whumps, hospitals, fighting, errors I missed.

A/N: Got a Chicago P.D. request? Send it in! REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Kevin Atwater:

Hank opened the door to a coffee shop. Walking into the shop. He stopped in his tracks as he saw Kevin and you sitting in a booth. Holding each other’s hands. Beaming at each other.

Hank let out a grunt. Walking over to Kevin and you. Standing in front of the table Kevin and you were sitting in.

“So, when were you going to tell me?” Hank spoke. Making you jump in fright. Kevin’s eyes widen slightly before he composed himself. He knew eventually Hank was going to find out that Kevin was dating you.

“Dad,” You gasped out, craning your head to look at him. Gulping as Hank looked at you then at Kevin, face void of expression. Kevin looked more composed than you were. Kevin still held onto your hand.

“Look, Voight…” Kevin started to say only for Hank to interrupt him.

“I’m not mad that you are dating my daughter, I’m just mad the two of you hide it from me,” Hank spoke.

“I was afraid of how you were going to react, and by react, I mean threaten Kevin, or have his job, you weren’t that nice to my previous boyfriend,” You stated. Making Hank look at you for a second, raising his eyebrows, then let out a grunt.

“Do you blame me your track record of boyfriends isn’t exactly perfect,” Hank grumbled out.

“He's right, I mean the last boyfriend you had turned out to be a drug lord,” Kevin spoke. Making Hank nod his head in agreement.

“Hey, you are meant to be on my side,” You huffed out.

“I’m just telling it how it is, don’t get me started on the boyfriend before the drug lord,” Kevin spoke. Shrugging his shoulders. Making you narrow your eyes at him.

“He was a prick,” Hank grumbled out. Kevin nodded his head in agreement, while you looked at your dad then at Kevin in annoyance.

“Okay, I’m going to go get coffees, before my father and you decided to bring up more of my ex’s that you think are complete assholes,” You grumbled, getting up, rolling your eyes as you walked to the counter.

Kevin smiled at you lovingly as he watched you walk away. Hank sat down in front of Kevin.

“I like you Kevin, but if you hurt her, I will hurt you,” Hank spoke. Making Kevin look away from you to look at Hank.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Kevin answered truthfully. Making Hank smile.

“Good,” Hank replied. Turning his head to look at you, feeling ecstatic that you were finally in a good relationship…

Kim Burgess:

Kim quickly grabbed your wrist before you could punch the locker door.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kim told you. Giving you a sympathetic look.

“She’s dead because I shot her, so, yeah it’s my fault,” You snapped. As tears blurred your vision.

“It was a good shot, okay, she had a gun, she didn’t listen to your orders, you had to,” Kim reassured you.

“At the end of the day, I’m the one that shot her,” You gasped out. Running your fingers through your hair. Back pressed against the locker. You slid down to the floor.

“Y/n,” Kim sighed, sitting down next to you. She wrapped her arms around you. Pulling you closer to her side.

“You did what you had to do,” She cooed.

Making you crane your head to look up at her. Tears falling from your eyes. It broke her heart.

“Don’t ever doubt yourself,” Kim spoke, as she unwrapped her right arm from you. Grabbing the side of your face. Leaning her head down to yours. Eye’s fluttering closed as her lips hovered above yours. Kim’s eyes fluttered closed as her lips touched yours. Making you let out a soft gasp.

The kiss didn’t last long, because the sound of someone clearing their throat made Kim and you pull away from each other.

Both of you looked in the direction of where the sound came from. Eyes widening in horror. Kim quickly unwrapped her arm from you. Getting up she tried to talk but Hank let out a grunt before she could even utter a single word. Making Kim’s heart pound faster. You got up slowly. Looking just as frightened as Kim looked.

“Just don’t let it interfere with your work,” He grunted. Giving Kim and you a hard glare before turning around and walking out of the room.

“Well, that went better than we thought it would, right or do you think he is going to kill me in my sleep,” She gasped out. Eyes wide with fright.

You slightly smiled at her. Walking closer to her till you stood in front of her. Cupping the side of her face. Thumbs caressing her cheeks.

“Relax Kim, it could have gone much worse, and by worse, I mean a yelling match,” You spoke. Making her slightly calm down.

“Least we don’t have to hide it from him anymore,” She spoke.

“Just the rest of the team though,” You spoke. Making her smile. She leaned her forehead against yours.

“I love you,” She beamed.

“I love you more,” You replied.

“Impossible,” she giggled.

Before you could respond, she grabbed the side of your face. Pressing a soft kiss against your lips…

Antonio Dawson:

Antonio grabbed the doorknob of your front door. Turning it open. His other hand grabbing your side. While your hands grabbed the side of his face. Pressing your body against his, as he pressed his back on the door. Opening the door. Antonio walked backwards into your apartment. One of your hands let go of the side of his face. Reaching out and closing the door.

Antonio and you pulled away from each other. Eyes still locked onto each other, as he stripped his jacket off, you did the same stripping your jacket off.

His hands grabbed the side of your face. Roughly pulling you closer to his body. His lips roughly pressing against yours. Making you let out a moan. Gripping his sides.

Antonio pushed you up against the wall, hands trailing down to your waist. Hiking you up. Your legs immediately wrapped around his waist.

Antonio broke the kiss, his lips going straight to your neck. Your head tilted to the side, as a moan escaped your mouth.

“I had a feeling something was going on between Antonio and you,” Your father spoke. Making a scream came from your mouth. Antonio quickly put your feet back on the ground. Both of you looking at Hank in shock.

“Dad,” You gasped out. Feeling slightly exposed even though you still had your clothes on. The only thing you stripped off was your jumper.

“Hank,” Antonio gasped out. Standing next to you. Antonio slightly stood in front of you. Making Hank raise his eyebrow at Antonio.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, one of your hands grabbed the back of his shirt for comfort.

“I think the better question is what are you doing kissing Antonio?” Hank’s voice boomed across

You gulped. While Antonio tried to play it cool. His protective side taking over.

“Because we are dating,” Antonio answered for you. Making you glare at the back of his head. Heart racing. You didn’t want them to fight in your place or fight at all. But your secret relationship with Antonio just got discovered.

“Ow, he was going to find out,” Antonio grunted as you pinched his arm. He looked over his shoulder to look at you.

“I prefer the latter, the much later,” You grunted.

“How long?” Hank asked. Making you gulp.

“For a while now,” Antonio answered, as Hank gave him a cold hard stare. Making you feel nervous.

“Look dad it wasn’t a spur of a moment or a one-night stand that led us together, it has been bubbling up for a while,” You spoke. Voice quaking with worry.

“Oh, I know, the long glances you give each other, the touches, I’m not an idiot,” Hank grunted. His eyes still locked on Antonio’s

“I love her Hank, more than anything,” Antonio spoke, staring at Hank with a genuine expression.

Hank grunted in response to what Antonio said.

“Just don’t break her heart,” Hank spoke.

“I would never,” Antonio responded.

“We will see,” Hank grumbled, turning around, and walking to your kitchen.

Antonio wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. Pressing a soft kiss against the top of your head….

Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz:

Mouse checked around the ward before stepping inside your room, he poked his head into your room, looking around your room to see if Hank was in the room.

A giggle escaped your mouth as you saw Mouse stick his head in.

“He's not here,” You spoke, voice slightly slurring from the pain meds they gave you.

Mouse slightly smiled. Stepping into the room. He closed the door, then pulled the curtain across.

“Unless he is hiding under the bed,” You joked, winking at him. Mouse grabbed a chair. Pulling it over to your side. Mouse sat on the chair. Grabbing ahold of your hand.

“How much pain meds are you on?” Mouse asked.

“Mmm, I don’t know enough that I don’t feel that searing pain in my shoulder.” You replied. Smiling lovingly at him.

“You had me worried, I thought you were going to die,” Mouse spoke. Bringing your hand up to his lips.

“Here I am still surviving,” You slurred, arching your brow at him.

Mouse tried to contain his chuckle but failed.

“Your cute,” You beamed.

“Yeah,” Mouse spoke, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

“Totally,” You slurred, raising your other hand to pinch his cheek.

The sound of the door sliding opened, made Mouse drop your hand, quickly, but it was too late Hank already saw Mouse holding your hand before he pulled his hand away.

“Sargeant Voight, this isn’t what it looks like, I was just visiting y/n,” Mouse gasped out. Making Hank look at Mouse, raising his eyebrows.

“Hi Dad,” You cheerily greeted him.

“This exactly what it looks like,” You slurred.

“We’re in love,” You beamed, Mouse gave you a mortified look. Feeling like the walls were closing around him.

Mouse turned his head to Hank.

“I would never hurt her,” Mouse tried to reassure your father.

“True,” You backed him up. Nodding your head.

“I love her,” Mouse told your father.

“Also, true, and I love him,” You beamed. Reaching your hand out to hold his hand pouting at him when you couldn’t grab his hand.

Hank’s cold expression turned into a smile. Finding the situation slightly amusing. Mouse was nervous while you were calm as ever.

“Guess, the cats out of the bag,” You stated. Shrugging your shoulders like it wasn’t a big deal.

Hank looked at Mouse. Giving him a serious look, which made Mouse shake in fear even more.

“If you hurt my daughter or break her heart, I will hurt you in ways worse then what you witnessed or went through in the military,” Hank threatened. Making Mouse gulp, he nodded his head yes, too afraid to speak. Not that he could get anything out.

“He isn’t joking on that,” You commented. Making Hank let out a chuckle. While Mouses eyes widen…

Jay Halstead:

Crockett raised his hand, making you let out a giggle, as you high fived his hand.

“You impress me every minute,” Crockett praised you. As he and you walked to the parking lot.

“Well, I do my best,” You chuckled. Gripping the strap of your backpack tighter.

“Perfection is the world,” Crockett praised you. Making you stop walking. Turning around to face him. Crockett turned his body to face you. Giving you a charming smile.

He quickly leaned down. Pressing his lips against yours passionately, taking you by surprise. you quickly pushed him off you. Looking at him with a shocked expression.

“I have a boyfriend,” You gasped out.

“Oh,” Crockett added. Looking heartbroken.

“It’s not that I don’t find you attractive or that you are undatable, it’s just I have…” You spoke, but Crockett cut you off.

“You have a boyfriend, I get it, sorry I kissed you,” Crockett spoke.

“Well, he is a lucky guy to have an amazing woman like you in his life,” Crockett spoke again.

“Yeah, water under the bridge,” You spoke. Giving him a half-smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Crockett spoke, turning around and walking away, making you let out a sigh. You turned around. The sound of a gun being fired sounded out through the car parking lot.

You let out a gasp as something ripped through your body. You looked down at your stomach, seeing a large pool of blood. You didn’t even notice the bright lights of the car's headlights or the sound of a car coming towards you. But Crockett did.

He turned around quickly rushing over to you, but it was too late.

“Y/n,” He shouted, as the car hit you, your body hitting the windshield of the car with so much force.

He quickly rushed over to you, as the car speed away.

Cupping your head. You looked up at him with a shocked expression. Blood dripping down from your head. Breathing swallow. Looking down your body to see a bullet wound, and a pool of blood staining your shirt.

“Y/n stay with me,” Crockett spoke. As he looked at your pupils.

“Tell J….” You gasped out, chocking on every word. Making Crockett panic.

“Tell J what? Y/n, you have to stay with me, okay,” Crockett spoke.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Eyes fluttering closed.

“Y/n,” Crockett panicked. Picking you up. He quickly rushed into the hospital. Going straight to the ER.

Maggie looked up as she saw Crockett holding you.

“Baghdad,” Maggie instructed him. Crockett quickly rushed to Baghdad, placing you on the bed. Putting the pulse oximetry on your index finger. The machine immediately beeped loudly.

“Y/n,” Will gasped out. Rushing over to Crockett, Maggie. April quickly rushed into the room.

“What happened?” Will asked as he repositioned your head to put intubate you. Will intubated you while Crockett cut your shirt to see the gunshot wound.

“She got shot then a car run over her,” Crockett replied.

“Did it exit?” Will asked as he bagged you.

Crockett rolled, shaking his head. Maggie helped Crockett roll you to your side. Seeing no exit wound. Maggie and Will looked at Crockett with hopeful eyes. Crockett shook his head.

“I need an x-ray,” Crockett demanded. Maggie quickly got one of the techs to come in.

Crockett, Will, April, and Maggie looked at the screen. Feeling more anxious as they saw the results.

“She needs to go to the operating room,” Crockett spoke. They all nodded. Transferring you upstairs…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。°。°。

Hank held onto his vest as he stood outside the building intelligence raided. Watching the guys, they bust get put into the back seat of cop cars.

His phone ringing. Hank grabbed his phone, looking at the caller ID. He quickly pressed the green button. Raising the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Hank, your daughter had an accident, we believe it was an attempted murder,” Sharon spoke. Hank’s face went pale, as he heard that. His heart thumping in his ears.

Hank didn’t hear the rest of what Sharon was saying. He slowly lowered his phone from his hand. Pressing the end button.

Hank looked like he was going to be sick.

“You okay boss?” Adam asked, noticing Hanks pale expression.

“I have to go to the hospital, it’s y/n, someone tried to murder her,” Hank spoke in a rush. Rushing to his car.

The whole teams face dropped into a look of concern. As they heard the news. Jay looked the most distraught out of all of them. Heart hurting. Eyes filling up with tears.

Jay quickly took off his vest, rushing to his truck.

“Jay where are you going?” Hailey asked. Following him.

“To the hospital,” Jay responded, as he got into the vehicle. Slamming the door on her and speeding off. The rest of the team giving each other looks. Hailey turned around to face them. Giving them a look of defeat.

“We should investigate,” Hailey spoke. Making the rest of the team agree. Getting into their cars and driving to the hospital…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。°。°。

Jay rushed into the ER. Heart racing.

“Will,” Jay gasped out as he saw his brother at the nurse’s station. Jay rushed over to Will. Clinging onto Will’s arm. As he cried.

“Jay,” Will spoke, pulling Jay into a private area. Away from nurses or anyone who was listening in.

“Is she okay? What room is she in? What floor?” Jay asked. Looking at his brother with tear-filled eyes.

“Jay, she’s hanging in there, she’s in recovery,  you should go before Hank finds out you are here or at least calm your emotions before you enter her room,” Will spoke. Giving his brother a concerned look. Jay shook his head.

“I don’t care about that, she’s in a hospital bed fighting for her life,” Jay snapped. Making Will pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Jay, you’re not thinking rationally,” Will huffed out.

“Yes, I am, my girlfriend is lying there and I’m talking to you about keeping my emotions in cheek,” Jay shouted.

“Girlfriend,” Hailey gasped out. Making Jay turn around to look at her. He gave her an annoyed expression for eavesdropping. It wasn’t any of her business, and as much as he valued her as a partner and friend now wasn’t the time for her to act shocked about finding out he was in a secret relationship, he would deal with it later.

“I don’t have time for this, yes my girlfriend, I’m going to see her,” Jay grumbled, walking off. Hailey looked at him with a hurt expression.

Will gave Hailey a reassuring smile.

“He didn’t mean it, y/n’s in recovery if you want to see her or hank, can’t miss her,” Will spoke, as he left Hailey to do his rounds.

Jay stood outside of your room. Finding the courage to tell your dad he as in a relationship with you, and they were hiding it from him.

Jay inhaled deeply then exhaled. Grabbing the door handle and sliding the door open. Feeling like he got his breath knocked out of him as he saw you lying on the hospital bed. A deep gash on your hairline. Cuts along the top of your eyebrows thought there were butterfly band-aids on them. A cut on your lip.

“Hank, there is something I need to tell you,” Jay gasped out. Heart racing.

“Did you find the guy who did this to her?” Hank asked. As he kept his eyes locked on you. Holding onto your hand. Jay’s heart ached to hold your hand. But he had to tell Hank he was dating you.

“Y/n and I have been in a relationship for a few months now, we just didn’t know how to tell you,” Jay confessed. Hank clenched his jaw. Making Jay nervous. Hank let go of your hand. Carefully put your hand down on the bed.

He stood up, the chair scraping on the ground. Making Jay slightly flinch. Hank lunged himself at Jay. Punching him in the face.

“This is all your fault that she is laying in a hospital bed, one of your enemies or someone who hates you did this to her, maybe it was Angela,” Ha growled with venom in his voice.

“It’s just as much my fault as yours, you have made more enemies than me,” Jay snapped out. Pushing Hank off him.

“Hey,” Crockett yelled pulling Hank off Jay. While Hailey rushed to Jay’s side, Hailey pushed away from Hailey. Hank and Jay glared at each other…

Vanessa Rojas:

Vanessa held the side of your face as she deepened the kiss. Your hands grabbing the lapels of her jacket. Pushing her back against the locker.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Vanessa and you pull away from each other. Looking at where the sound came from.

Eyes widening in fear as Vanessa saw your dad standing in the middle of the room with a displeased look on his face. Scowling at Vanessa. Vanessa gulped before speaking. Feeling slightly intimated.

“I’m not using your daughter as a steppingstone,” She spoke up. Making Hanks gaze intensified. Almost like he was glaring daggers at her.

“I love your daughter, and I would never use her to get ahead in intelligence,” She spoke again. Trying to sound confident but she was scared.

Hank gave Vanessa one last cold hard glare, before walking off.

“Do you think he hates me?”  She asked as she turned around to face you.

“He’ll get over it,” You replied nonchalantly. Making Vanessa give you a look of surprise at how calm you were acting.

“Trust me, if he wanted to kill you he would have done it by now,” You replied. Making her give you a dumbfounded look.

“So, you love me huh?” You spoke. Smirking at her. Her heart fluttering.

“Too soon, isn’t it, I know it’s too early to say I love you’s but…” She spoke. Only for you to cut her off by grabbing the side of her face and pressing your lips against hers passionately.

“It’s never too soon,” You spoke into the kiss….

Adam Ruzek: {this is a part two of Count Your Blessing}

Adam let out a groan, as he ran his hand threw his hair. Looking at the piles of paperwork he had to do. Ever since Hank found him in bed with you, he has been hard on him. Snapping at him.

“Dude, what did you do to Voight?” Kevin asked.

“Dated his daughter,” Adam responded. Letting out another groan.

“Y/n and you? Damn, I always thought y/n and I had a thing,” Kevin responded.

“Unless you value your job, it’s probably best to stay away from her,” Adam responded, making Kevin let out a chuckle. Adam turned to look at Voight in his office to see Voight on the phone. Looking distressed.

Voight quickly hanged up the phone. Grabbing his jacket and walking out of his office.

“Voight, you okay?” Kevin asked.

“It’s y/n, she’s been in a car accident,” Hank answered, tears pricking his eyes. Adam felt his heart tightening.

Hank quickly walked off.

“You okay?” Kevin asked, noticing Adam’s reaction. Adam gulped.

“Yeah,” Adam replied. Looking at the pc screen.

Kevin let out a sigh.

“Go, see her,” Kevin spoke.

“We aren’t together anymore,” Adam spoke. Making Kevin let out a small chuckle.

“But you still feel something for her, go see her, I’ll cover for you,” Kevin spoke again, making Adam sigh. He got up in a rush. Grabbing his jacket and putting it on.

“I owe you,” Adam spoke.

“Sure do,” Kevin replied. As Adam rushed down the stairs and out of the station…

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。°。°。

“Dad, can you stop babying me, I’m honestly fine,” You sighed, trying to sit up but he stopped you.

“You’re not fine, you have two broken ribs, a concussion, a deep gash on your forehead not to mention a dislocated knee,” Hank responded. You tried to suppress an eye roll.

“But I’m alive,” You sighed.

“Barely, when I came in you were barely holding on to life, I thought you were dead, that guy t boned you, your car rolled, you are lucky you are even awake right now, ” Hank shouted, tears coming from his eyes. Making your eyes well up with tears.

“Hey, sh,” Hank cooed, hugging you as carefully as he could.

“You just scared me,” Hank sniffled. Pulling away. Grabbing the side of your face.

“I didn’t see him coming, dad, he just came out of nowhere, and the light was green, so I went through it,” You sobbed. Hank wiped your fallen tears away. Anger bubbling up inside of him at the other driver.

“I promise you, that guy who hit you won’t be ever getting his license he will be hit with charges,” Hank spoke. Making you frown.

“Dad,” You gasped out, looking at him with slightly wide eyes. Your heart rate picking up.

“I’ll be back, I have to take care of something,” Hank spoke. Leaning down and pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Dad, please don’t do anything stupid.” You spoke, as he pulled away and walked out of your room.

You slightly sat up. Cringing in pain. Your eyes widen in shock as you saw Adam.

“Adam, what are you doing here?” You gasped out.

“I had to see you,” He gasped out. Rushing over to your side. Grabbing ahold of your hand.

“You should go, before my dad gets back,” You gasped out, trying to pull your hand away from his but failing.

“Your hurt,” Adam gasped out. Inspecting your wounds.

“Adam now is not a good time,” You panicked. Looking over his shoulder.

“I just had to make sure you were okay,” Adam spoke. His thumb caressing the back of his hand.

“I’ll just text you when he leaves the hospital, go before he murders you,” You spoke. Trying to push him away again but failed.

“I can’t keep hiding this from him,” He spoke. Making your heart rate speed up more. The machine beeping.

“No, he will murder you, Adam, you can’t,” You gasped out. Giving him a pleading look.

“I can’t keep our relationship a secret any longer,” Adam gasped out.

“You bastard,” Hank gasped out. Pulling Adam away from you and throwing him on the ground.

“Dad, no,” You shouted, gaining the attention of nurses.

“I told you to break up with her and you didn’t, you snuck behind my back,” Hank yelled. Pinning Adam to the ground by his shoulders. Nostrils flared, eyes narrowing into slits. Mouth set in a thin line.

“Sir, you need to step back,” Security commanded, pulling Hank off of Adam, another security guard helping the other guard out.

Hank glared at Adam, then looked at you shaking his head in disapproval, making you cry…

Hailey Upton:

Hailey’s jaw tightened. Jealousy spiking inside of her as she watched some scumbag run his hands up your legs, getting a little bit closer to you, as you twirled your straw around in the glass.

“What a pig,” She grumbled, venom in her voice. Making Jay look up from the monitor. Arching an eyebrow at her.

“Y/n can handle herself, plus she would say the safe word if she was uncomfortable,” Jay spoke, looking back at the monitor, this only seemed to irritate Hailey more.

Hailey clenched her fists into balls. Feeling disgusted at the guy for putting his hands on you.

“I’m going to go in,” Hailey announced. Taking her headphones off. She got up, but Jay stopped her.

“Woah, she’s doing fine,” Jay spoke, grabbing her forearm. Hailey shook her head, shaking off Jay’s grip. She turned around to look back at him. Glaring at him.

“She needs me,” Hailey spoke.

“Hailey, if you go in there you will blow her cover,” Jay argued with her.

“Then I’ll go in as her backup,” Hailey snapped.

“Hailey,” Jay snapped.

“You can’t stop me,” Hailey growled. Getting out of the van. Walking into the bar making you slightly sit up.

“What’s wrong?” The guy spoke, looking behind him.

“It’s nothing, I just really need my fix,” You spoke.

“Doesn’t look like nothing, I think your one of those undercover cops,” He spoke. Looking at you suspiciously. This made Hailey nervous. She was close enough to hear and see what was happening. Hailey grabbed her gun, drawing it out.

“What’s going on why is Hailey in there?” Hank spoke, through the walkie talkie. Jay inhaled then exhaled, grabbing the walkie talkie.

“Hailey thought y/n was made, so she came in,” Jay lied, covering for his partner. Hank let out a grunt.

“It’s just the withdrawals, I really need a fix,�� You begged.

“Maybe, you should get help,” He spoke, making you slightly panic.

“Well, if I get help then you wouldn’t have any business, not to mention I can get you, potential customers,” You spoke. Giving him a sly smile.

“As well as please you,” You seductively spoke, running your index up his arm. Making Hailey get jealous.

The guy smirked at you. Hailey glared at him.

“Not here, out the back,” The guy spoke. Standing up.

“drugs first before I go down on you,” You demanded. Grabbing his forearm.

The guy let out a sigh, grabbing a packet out from his back pocket. Handing it over to you.

“Thanks,” You beamed. Smirking at him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hailey came towards the guy. Grabbing his arm roughly and pushing him against the counter with excessive force.

“CPD, you’re under arrest, ” Hailey yelled. Pressing him harder.

“You bitch,” He growled looking at you.

“Don’t talk to her like that asshole,” Hailey snapped, grabbing his head, and turning it roughly to face her.

“You’re going along for a long time,” She snarled out. Pulling him up and walking him out of the bar.

Hank gave the guy a cold hard stare, as Jay helped Hailey out.

His cold stare turned into a look of worry as you came out of the door.

“You okay?” Hank asked you.

“Yeah,” You replied, handing him the bag. Hank took the small bag from you, letting out a grunt. Handing it to another cop who walked by him.

“Y/n, what’s going on between Hailey and you?” Hank asked.

“Nothing,” You replied. Giving him a convincing smile. But he knew better.

“Hmm, by her reaction it seemed personal,” Hank spoke. Holding onto his vest.

“She’s just worried about me,” You replied.

“So, was I but I didn’t go and rush in there,” Hank responded.

“Look, Dad, I really have to get to my job, you know as a firefighter,” You huffed out. Leaning up and kissing his cheek.

“Be careful,” Hank spoke. Making you smile.

“Always am,” You responded, walking off.

“I’ll get a statement from you after your shift ends,” Hank spoke loudly.

“Looking forward to it,” You yelled. Getting into your car.

Hank looked back at Hailey to see her watching you.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Hank muttered to himself….

[withdrawingramen]

liar (angstpril)

CW: emotional whump eg. whumpee being disowned by family, some really firm religious beliefs used to manipulate & gaslight whumpee, reference to whumpee almost attempting involuntary manslaughter under influence of demon (refer to my pinned post.), non human whumpee not very proud of the writing & language in this one but wanted to get in an entry regardless. enjoy! - Sihyeon's aunt sat across her, the rock-hard glass separating them both. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying her heart out. Her mother had left her with the deed of disownment an hour ago, and the truth of it hadn't hit her yet. Both of them sat in silence for a while. "She's in a coma right now. It's been a week."

The woman beyond the glass uttered. Sihyeon rubbed her eyes and looked up. "How...is she doing?" she asked her aunt, voice breaking. "Not completely responsive as of now. All because of you." Sihyeon remained silent. Despite her multiple attempts to explain to the officials that there was some mysterious voice in her head that took over her entire senses, there would be no leniency for attempted murder. "But the tests proved I'm innocent-" "You're not innocent." Her aunt hissed, fingers curling into a fist. "How dare you even think of letting yourself be consumed by some unholy force? Did you pay no heed to your parents' values?" "Th-That's not my fault!" Sihyeon exclaimed, but her aunt's contorted expression told her that maybe she had to be more careful with her words, given that nobody was on her side right now.. "If this glass didn't set us apart, I'd come right there and rip your mouth off!" Her aunt abruptly stood up, slamming her hands on the desk. Sihyeon flinched, retracting her arms to herself. She stared at the woman with teary eyes. "Why won't any of you believe me?!" She screamed back in response, tears running down her cheeks. "Believe you?" Her aunt scoffed. "You've probably lied to all your family for your whole life, no?" "Who'd believe a demon like you? You sinned in your previous life and uptil now. This is why you're here. This is why the family is now cursed." The woman spat at her. Sihyeon only stared back in disbelief. How could this be happening to her? How could her perfect life come to this? This wasn't right. Only a week before she'd been preparing to enter one of the most prestigious universities. So how'd it come to this? Sihyeon was all alone. "I bet you knew you were a demon all along. You just wanted us to suffer for your sins, didn't you?" "That's not true! I was completely normal-" "What normal person would try to murder their own blood?!" Her aunt retorted, her face fuming. Sihyeon tried to find the right words to reply, but there was a huge lump in her throat which she couldn't swallow. "You hated my Mia with all your heart, didn't you? You lied every time you said you were happy for her. You lied every single time you told the officials it was an accident. You wanted to kill her, didn't you?!" The woman beyond the glass nodded in a mixture of exasperation and anger. "I know you're a liar. I should have known the moment you started showing an attitude to everyone when you were growing up." Sihyeon's heart kept racing. "You've only caused trouble and pain to your entire family. You've disgraced your parents for giving you the best life possible by repaying them in this way?!" Her aunt huffed, glaring at her. "My girl is on death's bed because of you, you monster!" Her aunt wailed, eyes glassy. Tears were overflowing from Sihyeon now. Her aunt would be the last visitor before she'd be shipped off to a facility. Then no familiar face would ever cross her path again for years at a stretch. "Please don't leave me too." She choked out. "The only thing that's left is to rebuild our lives without you." Her aunt began to pack her things, sniffling, rushing out the door of the dull room before Sihyeon could utter a single word, leaving the poor girl in shambles.

[hotchley]

the process

Hi, I know it's been a while (more than a month) but life is overtaking everything. Literally wrote this in thirty minutes. Not a clue what this is, apart from Hotch going through the stages of grief after the events of Boston. I guess you could call it a character study. I basically wanted him to cry.

@whump-town this one is for you because writing it reminded me of how much your fics developed my style of writing Hotch, I love you more than I love reading He's Not Taking His Medicine <3

Trigger Warnings: implied child abuse, grief, depression, off-stage death

read on ao3!

Hotshot does not cry when he realises that Jason hasn't listened to him and has sent more agents into the building where Adrian Bale is because he is too busy doing damage control. This is shock.

Hotch does not cry when the building explodes, killing one civilian and six people who he had grown to love more than he ever thought he was capable of because he is in a pain so indescribable he is numb to everything- including what he is calling Jason's betrayal. This is denial.

Haley's Hotchner does not cry when Haley walks into his hospital room, fear written across her features and reveals that the reason she is late is because she is pregnant because he is seeing a future that he never thought he would have, and one which terrified is too gentle for. This is bargaining.

SSA Aaron Hotchner does not cry when Internal Affairs say Jason Gideon has taken leave to temporarily pursue teaching, leaving him Unit Chief and in charge of rebuilding the team, because he is traitorously grateful that he won't be home enough to become his father. This is guilt.

Mr Hotchner does not cry when he sees the graves for the first time, having missed the funeral because he was far too weak to go anywhere but across the room to the toilet, because he cannot help but feel like the names that should be written on those headstones are the same names of people who got to walk away. This is anger.

The Baby's Father does not cry when Haley washes his hair with a tenderness that nobody ever taught him as a child- which is why his touch never feels right now, he's realised that- because he is slowly realising that he is going to lose her, and the sooner he does, the better because he is hollow now. He couldn't even go with her to the appointment. He'd heard the nurse on the phone refer to him as the baby's father. They don't even know who he is. He didn't even react to that. He just rolled over- so his good ear would be muffled by the pillow. This is depression.

Aaron cries when he returns to work. He falls to his knees, a hand pressed to his mouth to stop the pitiful sounds that won't stop escaping, with tears streaming down his face as the weight of all that he has lost finally hits him. There are six smiling photos staring back at him. The people in them aren't going to get any older, but he will. He's already older than one of them and that terrifies him. He sobs, and suddenly Haley has her arms wrapped around him and she feels like a fearless and unconditional perfection. This is not acceptance.

Nothing is. Not when it is intrinsically tied to his notion of fault, and the way it belongs to him.

[youhideastar]

They Say Love Heals All Wounds: Behind-the-Scenes content!

So tomorrow I’m going to post the final fic in the They Say Love Heals All Wounds series, and I had a few pieces that ended up on the cutting-room floor of the series, over the years, that I thought folks might find interesting. I also added some commentary - I hope you enjoy!

This was in the original draft of that first scene on the plane where Sid and Geno are flying back to Pittsburgh from Dallas, newly bonded. I ended up taking Geno’s internal monologue in a slightly different direction, but you may notice that the “his heart as well as his body and his privacy and maybe his career” language ended up in the climax instead, in the “burnt offerings” passage. Reduce, reuse, recycle! I still wonder if maybe I could have worked in the “dutiful boyfriend Sid” aspect from this draft into the final, because it is some top-shelf angst and I was sorry to see it go.

It really is okay. Zhenya got his answer, and it wasn’t the “Me, too,” he was hoping for, but Zhenya is an adult. The memories of last night are too bitter to dwell on now, but with time, the edges will soften, and Zhenya will be able to think about it as “that time that Sid took care of him,” just like dozens of other times Sid’s put himself between Zhenya and the press or other players or Zhenya’s own homesickness.

Zhenya tells himself that – he repeats it over and over again as the plane reaches Pittsburgh and begins its descent. He will believe it—he’ll make himself believe it. Because the alternative is pressing Sid for yet another thing that he will feel obligated to give; to ask Sid to hand over his heart as well as his body and his privacy and maybe his career. And he would try – Zhenya knows he would try. He can picture it now: Sid carefully planning out his thoughtful gestures, scheduling weekly date nights, kissing Zhenya goodbye, determinedly saying “I love you” at the end of every phone call. He would feel the effort of will behind each one; an empty, play-acting version of what he’d wanted for so long. He’s not sure who it would break first, him or Sid... but he doesn’t want to find out.

********

This was cut from the conversation after Taylor kidnapped Geno. The scene was getting bloated. I would have liked to work it in elsewhere, because again, this is some nice Sid-whump, but it just didn’t fit anywhere.

“Honestly, I think Sid is grateful for the bond. Obviously not for how it happened – that was… that was pretty hard on him. I’m guessing you know that.”

“Sorry,” Zhenya says, tasting guilt like vomit at the back of his throat.

“Don’t be sorry! It’s not your fault!” Taylor shakes her head, half in denial and half in amusement. “Wow, you really are the perfect bondmate for the Squid – both totally obsessed with blaming yourselves for things you had absolutely no control over. But back to my original point: I think Sid’s relieved that the bond will keep you from being traded.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t say,” Zhenya begins, “but… Sid really worry Pens trade me? I’m—be honest, I’m not worry very much about trade,” he admits. “Maybe mean I think too good about myself.”

Taylor makes a long-suffering face. “Ever since you joined the team, Sid has been worried that the team was going to trade one of you guys. Because you’re both so good, and he thought the team would think they didn’t need both of you… or couldn’t afford both of you. When you first arrived, I think Sid spent the next two years worried that the Pens were going to trade him, because you were so good, and you had a girlfriend.”

“Why you say I have girlfriend?”

Taylor frowns. “You did, didn’t you?”

“No, I mean, why is important?”

“Oh.” Beat. “Well, in Sid’s mind, if the Pens had a choice between two equally good players, one straight and one gay…” She shrugs.

“Sid and me, not equal good,” Zhenya points out, and isn’t insulted when Taylor emphatically agrees.

“Of course not. But Sid is freakishly, unreasonably modest, and he was kind of insecure back then and also thought you were probably the greatest thing since sliced bread.” Zhenya nods at this – no one who has seen how passionate Sid gets about his PB&J could doubt that sliced bread is very important to Sid. “I mean, he still does. But he’s more reasonable about himself, now.”

“And then after those two years, when he kind of got more reasonable and realized he was objectively a more awesome player—no offense—he still thought Pens management was going to decide that they didn’t need or couldn’t afford two superstars, but now he was worried that they were going to trade you. So with the bond… he can stop worrying about that. Of course, now he has a whole new list of things to worry about,” Taylor says, dry.

Zhenya winces. “Yes.”

*******

Originally, there was going to be a subplot in TSLHAW where Geno took reading-suppressant drugs—or at least offered to—to address the power imbalance between them, after Sid found out about Geno sneaking into his room, to try and make it up to him and give him back his privacy. I ended up dropping it because the existence of such drugs would open up SUCH a can of worldbuilding worms and it was just introducing unnecessary complications to the plot.

“No—Geno, you can’t take that,” Sid says, going pale. “I trust you, it’s fine—”

“Sid, already before I’m break your privacy. Is okay to not trust for this, is okay to be mad—”

“Mad? About what?”

“About go into your room when you sleep, like creepy person!”

“I’m not mad about that.”

Zhenya makes a frustrated noise and reaches for the pill bottle. “Break your privacy more now—”

“What do you mean?”

“Not true you not mad, Sid. Can read this when you say. You mad, can’t pretend—”

“I have no right to be mad.”

Zhenya stares, dumbfounded. “What?!” he finally manages.

“I… was angry. More angry than I let on at the time. But I’m not—I knew I shouldn’t be. After everything you’ve been through… Do you think I can’t see how scared you’ve been? Do you think I don’t know how fast your whole life could fall apart?”

“Things hard for me right now, yes,” Zhenya says quietly. “But you can still be mad. Hard for both, you and me. I act like bad, creepy person because I’m coward.”

“You are not a coward—”

“On ice, no. With you, sometimes,” Zhenya confesses. “When I find out you have bad dreams, should talk to you, like grown-up. But too scared to talk. Just try to fix without talk, without let you decide what you want. I decide for you. Not right. I know, and I do anyway. Bad. Wrong. I’m bad bondmate.”

“Geno, you are not a bad bondmate. You made a mistake, but you were trying to help, to take care of me.”

Zhenya nods. “This is why I’m not total shithead. Just part shithead. But still part shithead. And is okay you be mad at part shithead. And is okay if you not trust part shithead, now. I hope I’m get your trust by be better. And this is part be better,” Zhenya says, shaking the bottle. “Is make more fair.”

Sid is quiet for a while. Finally he says, “I’ll let you take them for that second reason – to make it fair. To make us even. Because I can see that. That’s a good reason. But I’m not going to let you take them because you think I’m still mad at you for sneaking into my room, or like that made me not trust you.”

“Sid—”

“I was mad. Like I said, more than I let on at the time. But that’s all it was – mad. It didn’t shake my trust in you. I guess you don’t believe that, and maybe it’s weird, I guess, but it’s true. I was angry that you’d… made the decision for me, like you said. But when you promised me you would do better, I knew you would. I knew you meant it, and I knew you’d do it. I trust you, G. And if you can read me, then you know that that’s the truth.”

He can, and he does. And it is. Zhenya’s eyes burn, and he can’t look at Sid. “I don’t deserve,” he chokes out.

He can feel a flare of rueful amusement through the bond. “I don’t think I have the right to be mad at you, and you don’t think you have the right to be trusted by me. We’re… kind of a mess, Geno.”

Geno laughs, raspy but real. “Yes. We little mess. Maybe big mess.”

“But we’re okay, Geno. I think we really are.”

*******

People really wanted me to write the “Sid bottoms for the first time” fic. I had no real desire to—it would have been largely a retread of the “first blowjob” fic—but I wanted to at least try. Many failed attempts later, this is the only passage that didn’t suck.

When the months and years have gone by, and Sid thinks back to that period of their lives, he doesn’t remember the hard stuff. That doesn’t mean that the hard stuff wasn’t there – the nights when Sid’s mind slipped away from the here and now and everything that was warm just a second before went cold; the night Geno said, in the dark, “Promise you tell me if—if this is make more hurt than happy. Promise,” and Sid’s fingertips found tears on Geno’s face.

But he and Geno learned, before, that you may not be able to change the past, but you can choose how you remember it. And Sid chooses to remember the good times: the times they laughed, the times it worked. The times that remind him of the love they make now, now that the hardest work is behind them, now that they can do what they want without walking on eggshells: touching with care—always, because “better” isn’t “fixed”—but not with fear.

*********

I flirted with taking the post-TSLHAW ficlets in a threesome direction – ultimately I ended up channeling all my Ovi feelings into To Be Seen Aright instead, but I found this little conversation cute enough to keep hanging around in my drafts folder.

“I’m trying not to fall in love with your bondmate,” Alex says lightly.

Zhenya takes this statement calmly. He just smiles and says, “If you end up falling in love with him anyway, just don’t tell him, eh?”

“Scared?” Alex jokes, then thinks that might not have been a smart joke to make.

But Zhenya just rolls his eyes. “I’m not scared. You should be scared.”

“Why?”

“Because he’ll tell you he needs time to think about it. And then before you walk out the door, Caps management will be leaving you voicemails asking if you know why Pittsburgh is telling them you want a trade, and you’ll have an email from a bonding clinic confirming your appointment, and when you get home, there’ll be six guys loading your shit into a truck—”

“I get it,” Alex says, amused.

[whumpinggrounds]

Hide n Seek

sooo this doesn’t have a title but Liam came into my head and would not leave so? here we go? 

lmk if you like it or you hate it or want to see more. or if you have a title or anything to say or for any reason at all :) talk to me!!

CW: failed escape, escape attempt, environmental whump, big whumpee, tiny whumper, female whumper, nonconsensual drug use, drugged whumpee, scrapes and bruises, gaslighting, uhhh i forget what else. nonconsensual touching but it’s also nonsexual

Dark branches tear at Liam’s skin hard enough to draw blood, but he won’t stop running. On either side of him, trees loom up, huge and bristling with needles. The ground tilts sickeningly under his pounding feet, and as he slips and skids over icy ground Liam throws his body from side to side, trying to dodge the obstacles that pop up, seemingly out of nowhere. He’s pulling it off – barely – and then a towering red spruce appears out of nowhere. One of its lower branches, thick around as a lead pipe, catches Liam in the side of the head and sends him reeling.

Liam lands on his knees, breath whooshing from his lungs. The blow to his temple makes his head spin worse than it already was, and his whirling vision isn’t doing any favors for his roiling stomach. An unbearable heaviness in his limbs makes him long to stop, rest, maybe lie back on the frozen, muddy ground and let the blessed chill ease the fever heat in his brow.

As the desperate, exhausted thought crosses his mind, a faraway sound reaches his ears.

“Lavender’s blue…dilly-dilly…lavender’s green…when you are king…dilly-dilly…I’ll be your queen…”

The words are sung in a voice that’s high and light and almost fey. The sound stops Liam’s heart, makes ice water run through his veins. Dashing frightened tears from his eyes, Liam scrambles to his feet, ignoring the bleeding scratches, the ache in his bruised and frozen knees. Behind him, the voice drifts piercing and eerie through the trees, and, driven before it like a sacrificial lamb, Liam picks himself up and crashes onward.

Head reeling, body aching, so sick to his stomach he spends every step fighting not to vomit, Liam runs. He runs until he slips and falls, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of himself, mark bruises on his skin. Then he gets up and runs some more, staggering, faltering, missing steps, head empty of any instinct besides move forward, get away. The headlong sprint through the woods feels like it lasts forever. Snatches of song reach Liam’s ears, distorted and giggly. The forest rears up on every side like so many dark green walls – towering large, endless in every direction. Liam’s ears are ringing, his throat is dry, he can hear his own breath heaving unevenly in his chest. The terror in him is so raw and real that he can almost taste it, salt and iron, blood on his tongue. He’s choking on tears as he staggers onward, but scared as he is, all he can think is what if his sobs are too loud?

When Liam sees light through the trees, he thinks he’s dreaming. Stumbling forward, hardly daring to believe, he feels new hot tears spill down his face. Like a drowning man, he stretches his arms toward salvation, straining as if it’s something he can hold in his hands. Then he’s stumbling again, toppling forward, knees and then hands and then body kissing pavement.

Unable to stop himself, Liam sobs in simple, blessed relief. Pavement. The ground beneath him hard and unforgiving, solid and uniform. Above him, big plate glass windows spill yellowy light into the gathering darkness. The miracle of sidewalk, of concrete, of buzzing phosphorescent light!

Liam is weeping like a baby into his scratched up, icy hands. Now that he’s horizontal and staying there, now that the adrenaline has done just about all it can for his body – now, Liam starts to let go. His body feels both distant and incredibly close. He can feel every individual bit of concrete against his skin, and he can feel himself buzzing against the inside of his skin, and there’s a cloudiness in his head, a big and growing white threatening to envelope him, leave him blissfully out and unaware.

“What in the - ? Son? What the hell is wrong with you, son?”

The voice is gruff, incredulous, more than a little suspicious. Peering up through hazy eyes, Liam sees an older man coalesce into a hazy double-focus, bearded and grizzly as his tone suggests. The flannel-clad bear of a human recoils at the sight of the tears on Liam’s face, lip curling as he takes in Liam’s disheveled appearance.

“H-he-e-elp,” Liam manages, one hand reaching up, wavering and buzzing static in his vision. Even to his own ears, his voice wavers, rises and falls, distorted by hoarseness and God knows what else. “I n…need hel-l-l-p.”

Narrowing his eyes, the man continues to regard Liam with blatant doubt. Liam tries to morph his face into something acceptable, an expression that’s beseeching without being desperate or deranged. His muscles respond slowly, sluggishly. He can’t remember how to manipulate his face. Giving up, Liam leaves his mouth slack and just looks up, inches a little closer, pushing his body over the pavement, ignoring the way the cement rasps against his skin. He doesn’t want to try standing, yet.

Strange things are happening to the man’s face – his cheeks bloat, blow up grotesquely as he talks. His eyebrows, thick dark beetles, worm and writhe over his deep-set eyes, which are more like holes than real eyes. He’s towering over Liam, so tall the man on the ground can’t help but shrink a little bit against the pavement. His mouth is moving and Liam watches it with a dull kind of fascination, forgetting to pay attention to the words that emerge as shapeless sounds from that dark cave of a mouth.

“Help,” Liam tries again, seeing the way the word feels on his tongue. It sounds like it’s coming from very far away. “Huh…help?”

“Boy? What is wrong with you, boy?”

The man is waving his hand around in front of Liam’s face, looking for some kind of a reaction. When Liam just keeps staring hazily up, the man shakes his head. He starts talking, but the words dip and circle around Liam’s head, refusing to find his ears, refusing to find his brain. Every so often a word or two comes through – a revelation.

“…fucking cops…”

“Hellllp,” Liam whispers, turning his head to rest one hot cheek against the concrete. His head is pounding so bad it makes him feel sick. Or maybe he just feels sick. Either way, he’s wrung out, exhausted, ready to be done. Liam is tired. He gives up. He’s ready to be done.

Shutting his eyes to try to block out the loud and angry spinning world, Liam forces words out as best as he can make them. “Pl-l-l-e-e-eease. Please.” In his chest, he feels a little hitch come with the word, a shaky breath that prefaces a whimper. The sound is so small, so utterly pathetic. Liam didn’t know he could make a sound like that. “Ple-ease help me.”

The man squats down now to peer a little closer at Liam, at the young man laid out flat on the ground, not even trying to get up. “…what is…come from…”

The words aren’t landing with any greater frequency, nor are they making much sense, but Liam imagines he hears a grudging warmth in the tone that wasn’t there before. Maybe concern, instead of suspicion. Maybe aid, instead of exasperation. He lets himself slit his eyes open, see the hazy outline of the figure above him, leaning in. He lets himself hope.

Then he hears the gasp from behind him, long and loud, high and flighty and dramatic. Suddenly, Liam can’t breathe. He shuts his eyes again, trying to block the nightmare out, but it’s too late. She’s already here.

She throws herself down beside him, drapes herself on top of him, small hands roaming from his broad shoulders down to his waist, as if checking that he’s still whole. She’s so small. She’s always been so small. Doesn’t make sense that she can be all over him, everywhere at once when she’s so…damn…small.

“Philip!”

She trills it, sweet as any songbird. There are tears in her voice, real tears, and a burbling wet kind of laugh of relief that would tug at the heartstrings of anyone who had a heart. “Oh God, Philip, oh, don’t scare me like that.” She presses a warm kiss to his temple and Liam groans out loud. “Oh, sweetie. Oh Philip. Oh.”

One finger traces down the side of his face. The feeling comes through hideously clear and sharp. If it were a picture, it’d be Technicolor, while the rest of the world scrapes by in staticky black and white. Liam presses his face harder into the concrete, wanting to escape, to sink through, to disappear. She picks up his head and cradles it with one little hand.

“…know this…?”

Liam wishes, more than he’s ever wished for anything before, to understand the words of the man standing over them. Instead, the man remains indistinct, distant, unreachable, while every word she says rings loud and perfect in his ears.

“Philip is my brother,” she explains, voice so sweet it conjures honey on the tongue. “He’s…he’s…well, he’s not right.”

“…see that…”

“Well.” A firm but gentle hand smoothing over his wild hair. “We don’t know what exactly it is that’s…wrong.” Locked inside his head, Liam is screaming. All that emerges from his mouth is a low, indistinct moan. Above him, Delilah chatters on, her voice taking on a tragic tone. “We suppose it could be genetic. Or it could be…well, he was in a bad way with drugs, my brother.” She strokes his back, a long, possessive touch. “It’s not his fault.”

The man above them grunts. His voice is still so distant, coming in and out like radio waves. “…damn fool thing…cold.”

“I try. I really do try. He’s just…he gets away from me sometimes, I guess.”

“…huge motherf…little thing like…”

A laugh, carefully calibrated to sound just a little forced. “Philip is my brother.” Another long, tender caress down his back. Liam pants into the pavement, head spinning. “I love him. Of course I’m going to look after him. I have to.”

“…need help?”

Sprawled out on the ground, Liam heaves a dry sob. Those words, words he wanted to hear so badly just minutes before, now offered to the exact wrong person. The conversation goes on above him, but Liam can’t waste his focus listening to it anymore.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Liam takes stock of his aching body. His knees are bruised and sore, his body scratched all over. He’s exhausted and cold and his muscles feel distant, tingly and out of touch. Even lying on the ground, his head pounds and spins. If there was anything left in his stomach, he’d definitely have thrown it up by now. All he wants is to stay where he is and rest. He wants to feel right again, in control of his body and his mind. He wants to give up, give in, be allowed to sleep and heal and rest. Liam just wants this to be over.

But he can’t just yell surrender and expect Delilah to leave him alone. She’s hopping to her feet now, standing to shake the stranger’s hand. If he has a last chance, this is it, so Liam grits his teeth. Dredging up every last bit of meager strength, he places his palms on the ground beneath him and pushes up. His arms are shaky, and nearly give out, but he manages to slump into a sitting position before his strength fails.

From his place sitting on the pavement, Liam can peer up pitifully at the two people above him. The flannel-wearing man is facing Liam, which means Delilah is facing away from him. He has a window, a precious small amount of time, in which he can just maybe make his escape. Swinging his head to the side, Liam examines the storefront he’s ended up outside of. The vinyl booths, the matching countertops – it’s a diner, all the lights inside aglow. If Liam can just make it inside. If he can just get his story out.

He has to move quickly. Sucking in a quick puff of cold air, Liam leans back and pushes off the ground, flinging himself to his feet. Almost before he’s all the way up, he’s throwing himself into his next step, staggering forward with all the grace and control of a drunken grizzly. Speed is his only chance, and also his greatest enemy. As Liam lunges forward, his body gives out under him. He stumbles, wailing in frustration, stretching his hand out for the door even as he goes down.

Before he can hit the pavement for the second time in ten minutes, the stranger catches Liam. It sounds like it takes a good amount of his strength, because the man grunts as Liam’s chest smacks his shoulder, but he stays where he is, all but holding Liam up.

Even though the guy seems to have decided to take Delilah’s side, gratitude leaves Liam breathless.

“Your brother is heavy,” the man complains, his gruff voice booming through the air right next to Liam’s ear.

“He was a football player,” Delilah explains, and surely anyone could hear that smug, faintly covetous tone in her voice? Surely, this man can see the way she squeezes his bicep as she runs her hand down his arm?

The man throws one of Liam’s arms over his shoulder and drags his unresisting body toward a parking lot. Stumbling along, Liam tries to stay on his feet, though now his hectic vision is starting to fade entirely. On his other side, Deliliah hovers along, her hand so light on his back that he should hardly be able to feel it. Somehow, though, while his entire body is distant, prickling, offline, that handprint burns in his awareness, heavy and hot and stinging like nettles. Liam whines under his breath, trying to make his thick tongue form words.

“Shh,” Delilah soothes, drawing so close he can feel her breath on his arm. “Shh, Philip, honey, it’s gonna be all right.”

Still whining like a kicked dog, Liam is dumped unceremoniously in a foreign backseat. Crawling up next to him, Delilah waits until the man is seated in front of them to perch herself basically in his lap. With greedy, grasping fingers, she tugs his leaden body over so Liam’s head is resting on her shoulder. At first, Liam fights it, but when the car starts up the winding mountain road, he subsides. The curving motion of the road sets his stomach roiling, so he’s too nauseous to do anything but let his head flop back as he tries to open his airway and breathe.

Cooing, Delilah cards her hot little hands through his hair. “Poor Philip,” she murmurs, voice sweet and conciliatory. “Poor honey. Didn’t I tell you no one would believe you?”

[octopus-reactivated]

Title me Miss

You remember Decima? If not, here she is.

Tw/cw: Pet whump. legal slavery, stress position, maybe? low self-esteem, dehumanisation, unreliable narrator, derogatory language

__________

The cage was small, much smaller than cages usually used in stores. He had to bend while kneeling. His back hurt and he wanted to lay down, curl up on cold floor, but then he wouldn't be able to get at kneeling position fast, and if someone would look at him, and see he isn't even kneeling, then he won't be bought and taken to new home and new Master and it’s not like his chances were high to begin with.

He had to stay in this uncomfortable position. Of course stupid Pet like him deserved anything better, anyway.

__________

That's bad - thought Paparazzi realising the celebrity saw her taking a photo of him. Except that she wasn't a paparazzi, and he wasn't a celebrity.

Caretaker quickly turned around trying to walk away without getting into a confrontation. It was most likely that she would be able to get away, and even if man would demand to delete photos, she already switched memory cards, so the evidence was safe.

She took a glance into a reflective surface. Yep. Mr. Politician was following her, and even pointed at her. Rude. She hid behind the nearest corner, taking her jacket off. Then she hopped into the closest shop and got wig off - good thing she actually decided to start using them. She walked into the furthest part of the shop, hiding clothing, wig and camera in a bag and done! Caretaker can be a different person now! It took her 15 seconds no more. Still far away from a perfect time of 7 seconds, but most likely 15 seconds would be enough.

Caretaker calmed herself down, and crunched behind a cage

And then she saw where she was. A “Pet” shop. She realised There was a human in a cage, and he looked at her with hopeful eyes. Oh no. She suddenly felt guilty. She never was brave enough to go after a big company. Did this combination of events happen to show her what happens to people because she refuses to take action... Even if this action is just spying on corrupted politicians?

She will have to pull herself together and inform Justin she's ready to hunt down big fish.

Caretaker stayed a little longer, until she decided it was safe to go. She stood up and at that moment a man in a cage whimpered. She looked at the boy. He had teary eyes. Was it because she didn't want to buy him? Why would anyone be sad for not getting bought? Maybe Pets were punished when someone decided to leave them? It made no sense, but common sense probably got beaten out of them. Whatever it was, the boy was authentically sad.

"I'm just... looking at the description, don't worry" she sent him a reassuring smile. What the what was she doing? She's not here to buy anything? Maybe she would be able to steal him? No, she's a simple photographer playing spy, not a thief. And THAT would be illegal, and she can't have a criminal record. Caretaker looked at papers glued to the board over the cage. Age, physical attributes, placing of scars, training facility, 'one previous owner' note, price - cheaper than she would expect for a human being- what he was trained to, blablabla...

"Interested in-" without thinking, she turned around and punched the owner of a voice in the stomach. He bent in half. Only then she realised it was one of the employees.

"I'm so sorry i didn't mean to hurt you, you terrified me" she apologised quickly, and she meant it. She really was sorry for punching an innocent person. Oh wait, this guy works at Pet store. Nevermind, she's not sorry. Unless that would make a fuss and affect her reputation. Then maybe a little.

Employee straighten up

"You're stronger than you look like" He said, quite impressed.

"Thank you. I didn't meant to use that strength on you"

"No problem, it was my fault anyway. I tend to walk quiet" He said, but to be honest it sounded a little forced. Later on he will trash talk about her to his friends for sure. "Anyway i was meant to ask if you're interested in this Pet"

"Well, I am considering... "

"We also have many others here, or you can visit our website and..."

"No thank you... I think… I think I will talk to my friend, he's like 78% of my impulse control. I will be back in a few minutes."

"Of course if you want to discuss it with someone..." Employee looked disappointed, but he also didn't want to come out as pushy, so he didn't stop her.

When she was walking away Pet sniffed, and an employee kicked cage saying something angrily. He switched from servile to cruel in seconds. Disgusting, absolutely disgusting. She will stop this. But first she had to make a call.

__________

Pet was waiting, hoping for the impossible, and then- then someone walked in and looked at him! Mistress with exotic blue hair! She was looking at him! Maybe she will pet him and decide he looks adorable and take him? He tried so hard to look cute!

Of course it wasn't enough. Mistress stood up. Why would she want a disgusting, horrible Pet like him? He whimpered and shut up immediately. He didn't get permission to make a sound. Bad, untrained Pet.

"I'm just looking at the description, don't worry," Lady said. Of course, you stupid mutt. Humans won't just decide by looking at face, they would want to know... all those important stuff written in his document, that he was to stupid to understeand.

One of the Masters came and talked to Lady... but she just punched him! And the Master was in pain, but still didn't get mad... Did it mean that Lady was so cruel she wanted to hurt even other humans and powerful enough to get away with this? Pet trembled.

Master tried to convince her to purchase one of Pets, him or some other, that was less useless, bu the Lady apparently didn't liked anything, so she used banal excuse even dumb Pet was able to look through and left.

He tried not to cry.

Master kicked his cage.

"Can't you even try to be less hopeless?" he said angry

__________

"Justin, my beloved, my light, my braincell and my source of income i need your advice"

Sigh.

"What is this time?"

"So I was doing as you said, and you were right, they really met and there was a third man with them, and I got photos, but he saw me and..."

"Did you lose evidence?"

"Nah, don't worry it's safe like a baby in your mother's arms. The thing is I had to flee and I went into the first open store and there was Pet and he looked so sad, and I have to take him now, but..."

"I see, do you want me to gently sway you from making decisions you already know it's bad, or do you look for my genuine opinion about your capability of taking care of a pet with your job?"

"No no no no no. You misunderstood me. It was A Pet. And I want to take him, because I'm afraid they will beat him to death if i don't but I also don't want to give them my money. I don't want to contribute to the system, but stealing is bad and I don't know what to do anymore."

"Okay. Okay, wait a moment i need to think about it for second"

"Okay"

"Alright, I have an idea: big companies like that always have some dirt. So do like this: go to this store and buy him casually, but look for old ventilation, unsafely placed things or anything. Note that and take photos if you can, and we will later snitch on them for WHS violation or something"

"Okay. Thank you i knew i could count on you"

__________

Pet was kneeling in the cage. He could have a new home by now if only he wouldn't be so disgusting. The last customer was really scary, and cruel and even she didn't want such an awful Pet. He tried not to cry. Crying wasn't cute and he had to look cute even if it was pointless.

Then he heard quick angry footsteps. The blue-haired lady was back. What did it mean?

"I'M TAKING HIM!" She shouted. She had fire in her eyes. It took all of Pet's strength not to move away to the back of the cage.

She will buy him, and she was angry, maybe because the pet was scared of her, or maybe her Friend failed to control her impulse, or maybe it was something different, but the Pet will pay for that.

He was scared, but he will take all the pain if she would want him, please he wants to be wanted, even if it doesn't matter what he wants, take him away, he will be good...

Master rushed and took Lady to the back, where the documents were signed. Pet glued eyes to the doors. She still can change her mind when she will look deeper and realise how bad and ill-trained animal he is.

Or maybe she would like to have a broken animal to train up to herself? Was it about it?

__________

"Here are all his files. We have to make sure you had read them, especially the last page"

"Sure, give me some time"

"Also if you have any questions, i'm here to help"

"I don't have any..." she said, but then the idea hit her "actually, do you have any more detailed record of his training?"

"We do have records for all our pets, but we can show them only to the owner. We can email them right after purchase. They're quite large"

"Works for me" She said. Maybe the records will say more about his conditioning, and help with recovery. Anyway it won't do harm if she will have them.

Now onto reading stuff she will sign. Make sure the company won’t hide anything in small print.

It took longer than she would like to admit and hopefully she understood all the words just right… There was one page left.

There was something about being "ready to handle" and "responsiblebleble..." and

oh

Employee must have seen that she got to that part.

That part... changed the light she looked at the boy.

And she hesitated for a moment.

“May… may i know the circumstances of an incident?” she asked

__________

Master- no, the former Master now opened a cage and threw him on the ground. Pet felt his shoulder hit the hard floor and he holded cry in .

"Looks like you got purchased after all. Unbelievable. Ayway, how long do you think it will take for you to mess up and get returned?" former Master said. Pet was stupid, yes, and he had trouble learning rules but he knew that he can't break them now, and he wasn't allowed to speak

"Answer me you dumb Pet"

now that was an order

"A- a month maybe?"

"Ha! you aim high. I doubt you will be able to last two weeks"

Pet didn't want to go back at all, but if the former Master says he won't be able to enjoy new home for longer than two weeks then it was true. He had to bear Mutt for so long!

He took off one collar and put on another. It was so soft, softer than a pet ever had. Finally he grabbed him by the shoulder he felt on and took to the new owner.

"See you soon," former Master whispered to Pet.

And there she was. New owner. The scary Lady. Pet trembled.She didn’t clipped a leash or grab him by hair, instead she put her arm around him. Didn't she want him to have even this piece of freedom? Or was she afraid he would try to run away? He won't, he will be good and Pet hoped he would be allowed to speak to tell he will be good. But he wasn't allowed so he just quietly walked by her side. He couldn't crawl with her holding him, will he be punished for walking on legs like a human?

They walked outside. The sun was so nice, and the air was fresh. But he knew it was not to enjoy, he wasn't allowed to enjoy those things.

"We will have to wait here for a while. My friend - the one I mentioned before - will give us a ride. Anyway, what's your name?"

Was he tested already? He knew how to follow rules, he could follow them...

Owner looked at him in scary silence

"Oh. I forgot. You can speak. I wouldn't ask if i didn't expected any answer"

Oh no. Oh no no, they didn't even get home, and he disappointed Owner already.

"I don't have any name, Mast- Mistress"

“Hmm well then how did the.. shop employees call you then?”

“Disgusting, Mutt, Dirty…”

"That won’t work. We have to give you a real name. And you can call me by mine. I'm Decima. 'Mistress' sounds like some annoying character from a historical drama. But if you feel uncomfortable without honorifics then you can title me 'Miss'. But I prefer to be referred to by name, okay?"

"Yes, Miss Decima"

[ashintheairlikesnow]

writing request for whenever: Laken and Chris go to a dinosaur museum/exhibit

CW: Referenced past pet whump, mentioned negative stimming resulting in self-injury, pet whump (different character) with intimate whumper, grief, referenced parental death, trauma response, brief reference to true crime

Timeline: Chris is 25 years old in this piece

Rafael (Raf) first appears, unnamed, in this drabble from Chris’s early college days

Laken’s hand is warm in his, their fingers intertwined, as they stand underneath the hanging bones of an enormous ancient thing like a whale but entirely unlike it, too. Chris closes his eyes, swaying lightly side to side, humming softly as he imagines it, rows of teeth with some as big as his hand, moving through oceans older than anything he can imagine, chasing down prey.

The sun shines in through the all-glass windows that make up the other side of the atrium, warming against his shirt without prickling his skin. The lights are far up and away, and the sunlight is stronger. 

“Wow,” Laken murmurs, and he glances over at them to see their chin tipped back, liquid dark eyes focused on the recreated bones not so far above their head. “I’ve never been here before. Have you?”

Chris feels the hint of pain at the question, and for once it’s not in his head from memories but simply the aftermath of what he knows. “Yeah,” He answers, voice low and soft. “With my, my dad and mom. Long, um, a, a long time ago.”

Laken’s expression shifts, too, and they wince. “Sorry. I didn’t think about-”

“No,” Chris says, insists really, giving their hand a squeeze. They squeeze back, looking him over with the face they make when they’re reading his expression. He knows it’s going to happen for a while - the cut across his forehead is still bright and obvious against pale skin, although the one on his cheek is nearly healed up and gone. They’re searching, now, for signs it’ll happen again - that he’ll pull back into his head again, maybe take longer to come back out this time.

It’s-... it’s funny, now that he has the memories, he can remember his mother worrying over it, too. And his father’s soft reminders that the worry wouldn’t fix him, because fixing wasn’t what needed done.

It’s funny. To have been told no one loved him, and that was why he had to be remade into a pet, a sort of breathing toy, only to have it all break through with the constant reminders of what a fucking lie that had been.

He’s been reading about people who were kidnapped, lately. Staying up with Wikipedia open on his phone finding names and faces. The girl in Utah, the ones in Ohio, the boy in Nevada, that guy from the famous billionaire logging family who disappeared in California... all of them say, they told us we weren’t wanted by anyone else, for anything else. After a while, we believed them. What else could we do?

It’s... soothing, almost. They weren’t drugged to make it happen, but it did, anyway. It wasn’t Chris’s fault - there was no way he could have kept himself. 

But getting all of it back came at the cost of scaring everyone who loves him now, leaving them all worried he’ll hurt himself again.

He doesn’t think there’s anything else in there that can hurt any more than what’s already come out from behind the flat, cold white light in his mind. But they’re not certain.

“Don’t worry,” Chris says, tilting his head and giving them a smile. “I’m, I’m, I’m okay, Laken. I promise. I, I, I, I-I-I like thinking ab, about them now.”

“Well... good. Okay. Just, let me know if I cross a line, okay?” 

“I, I will.” 

Laken gives his hand another squeeze and steps away to read a freestanding plaque below the bones of the belly of the creature over their heads. Chris picks up the feather necklace he’s always wearing, moving himself over to look outside, at the brilliant green lawn, the landscaping studded with blooming tulips along the walkway. There are plastic sculptures of dinosaurs out there, and Chris watches a little girl in a dinosaur-themed dress and leggings clamber up on one, giggling as she sits on the triceratops like she’s riding it and her father looks on, amused, nearby. 

The world feels strange and thin, for just a moment. He feels like he’s on the other side of a wall, and if he took a hammer to it he could step through and see himself, small and gangly and young, his mother nearby with a giant purse full of all the things he might need, her jaw set and ready to fight a battle on his behalf. One she didn’t always have to fight - but she was ready for it, anyway.

His eyes roam the green area outside, scanning, looking over every child, every parent, every friend. He’s looking for her, he realizes, his hand squeezing tight around the plastic feather, rubbing his thumb hard over the vanes. He’s looking to see if she’ll be there, ten years after she was gone. 

If all he’ll have to do is look hard enough, and she won’t be dead, she’ll be here, ready to load Tristan into the car to get his chicken nugget kids’ meal and go home.

If he only looks hard enough-

“What’s this one, sir?” The voice is soft, sweetly charming, and sends a chill up Chris’s spine with its perfect familiarity. Not that he’s ever heard this voice before - but he knows the tone, the way of rounding your mouth around each syllable, the subtle flirtation built into each word.

His heart stops beating - and then starts again, as he slowly turns to look over his shoulder.

Laken is across the room, now, off to one side. He can see their black hair, the way they stand with one hip slightly out is as familiar to him as his own skin. The soft blue sweater they’re wearing over black jeans and boots is his, they pulled it on this morning with a laugh when he said it looked better on them. He’s wearing one of their shirts over his compression shirt, fair’s fair, sweetheart, you get mine if I get yours. They’d laughed and said he looked so good in t-shirts for bands he never listened to. They’d both laughed.

Between him and his partner, though, is a couple - an older man with a much younger one. It’s the younger man who spoke.

The older man has a hand at the small of the younger man’s back, casually possessive, but it’s the black leather collar worn openly around the young man’s neck that catches Chris’s breath. He can almost feel the constriction around his own throat. Can almost feel the breath against the back of his neck as it’s buckled there, safe and sound, the collar means-

The collar-

The older man frowns, looking up at a large predator skeleton, then down at the plaque in front of it. “ Ac-... Arcanthosaurus,” He says, confidently mispronouncing the name. Chris knows how to say it. He knows exactly what it is. He could say everything on that plaque without looking. Therpopod, Early Cretaceous, fossils found primarily in Oklahoma, Texas, and... somewhere else, Colorado or Wyoming. He could describe its habitat, its likely diet, what its life looked like from birth to death.

The man says the name wrong, and his pretty pet, illiterate and dependent on him for every scrap of knowledge, doesn’t know any better. He only smiles and says, “That’s a pretty name.” He sounds satisfied.

But Chris sees his dark eyes flicker to the plaque and away, the curiosity quickly stifled and shoved down. He’s seen Kauri do the same thing, force himself into safe ignorance to avoid asking too many questions. He’s seen himself do it. He’s seen them all do it, if they weren’t allowed to read, to know, to ask, to think.

The younger man, Chris’s own age, has close-cropped black hair and wears a black shirt and pants clearly tailored to skim, to fit tightly without being indecent. To be a show of wealth without being ostentatious. That’s when it clicks - he’s seen the pet before, in a cafe with his friends. 

The younger man must feel someone looking at him, because for just a moment, his head turns and he looks right at Chris. Their eyes meet, and Chris knows the man recognizes - if not him, then what he was, what he used to be - in a second.

The pet mouths, hi, and tries for a slight smile. He lifts one hand, just a little, and his fingers move in a slight wave.

And Chris had pretended not to see, hunched down in his seat with his heart racing until the two were gone. What were the odds he’d see the same one again? What were the fucking odds, he’d get to be a coward again, to hide from his own life. What were he odds he’d see one here?

Chris had forgotten the museums are all pet-friendly if you call ahead. So many of the places he goes now aren’t. 

Suddenly, he wants to leave, to never come back, not to let the reality of his life intrude on the moment where he’d been so, so close to the memory of his mother, had nearly seen her on the grass. 

“Stay here, Raf, I’m going to step over to the water fountain.” The older man kisses the younger man’s cheek, and they smile at each other, but Chris knows a pet’s smile when he sees one. He’s made the same expression, again and again, felt the snap of white-hot pain on his back or his hands whenever it wasn’t believable enough for the handler staring down at him.

The older man walks away.

For the second time, Chris is faced with the same pet standing alone in a room of people, the two of them know each other in a way no one else here ever could, not really, not without losing it all, too.

He takes a breath.

Raf - the pet - turns to look out the window at the sunlight, and for the second time in his life, Chris meets eyes with a stranger who is, in many ways, exactly like him. 

The pet maybe doesn’t recognize him - without his long hair, and they only saw each other once - but he recognizes something, because his expression changes. Chris isn’t the only one staring - there are children asking soft questions in stage-whispers who are admonished by their parents, older kids staring openly in silence, two adults who see Raf and just as quickly leave the room. 

In a wide, round room full of people, Raf is utterly isolated from all of them, from anyone but the man who keeps him. Chris knows the feeling.

He tells himself to move. All that happens is that he pulls on the feather necklace so hard the cord snaps, comes free, and he stares down at it, before slowly raising his eyes again.

The pet gives him a faint, sad smile.

He mouths, hi.

It’s a circle. 

Somewhere just behind him, he feels the warmth of her, a hand around his shoulder. His eyes blur with tears. She’s so close, here. With the world she brought him out into comes all his memories of her, crowding in on him. Kisses to his forehead, a hand to check for a fever, arms around him to block out the heavy weight and shrieking noise of a hungry world with its jaws open to hurt him.

He can feel her hands on either side of his face, leaning her forehead to his, whispering, you’re okay, Tris, we’re going to get out of here and somewhere quiet, you’re okay. Just hold onto me. 

Just hold on.

She’s so close.

He can hear her, feel her. If he could just move the right way, she wouldn’t be dead at all. If he could just undo everything, if he could fix his mistakes, if he could stay still in the closet and hide just right, if he does it just right nobody has to die and he doesn’t have to lose them and no one has to die-

One step, and then another. His mother’s voice, not forgotten, although blurred by time and loss. That’s how we start, Tris. One step, and then another. You can do this. I’m right here if you need me, but listen - you won’t. You’ve got this, baby. They’re going to love you, all those kids in there.

How, how, how, how, how can you, what if they, they don’t-

They will. 

But-

One step, Tris, and then another. We’ve done it all that way, and we’ll do this that way, too.

He looks back at the green grass outside, the courtyard with the playing children and watching parents, the faint sounds of their happiness through the glass. Her hand is at his back, and Chris takes one step, and then another. His heart is in his throat, his hands shaking, his stomach is twisted in knots and a cold brick of ice inside him. 

One step, and then another. 

She’s so close, and if he does this just right, she’ll find him and take him home. 

No.

She’s already here, no matter where he goes. Home is Jake, and Laken, and Antoni, and Kauri, and Nat. Home isn’t a place, it’s people, and he’s his mother’s home, now, the place where she lives after she’s gone.

He closes the distance between them, and stops next to the pet, holding the broken feather necklace in his hand still. The weight of the sun on his back is warm, and not too heavy. 

They stand next to each other, and he looks just to the side of the pet’s eyes, focused on something else, to avoid the way looking right at him would overwhelm, be too much to take. 

“You were one,” Raf says, in a low voice, sounding stunned. “But you’re not... not now.” 

Chris inhales, slowly. His body screams at him to run, to move, and his mind demands he be silent, be still. Instead, he rocks, forward and back, feels the air move around him. Reminds himself he could do - could be - anything with his body that he wants to, now.

And maybe this pet can, too.

“I, I, I named myself, um, Chris,” He whispers, hoarsely. 

“He calls me Rafael,” The pet replies, and his eyes move over Chris’s face. There’s an expression Chris can’t read well there, a subtle desperate want, but expressions are hard for Chris and right now the static crackling in his mind, the trains of his thought careening wildly around each other, make it even harder. “I would have liked to name myself.”

One step, his mother says, urging him into the gym, where some other kids are already doing backflips and tumbling on mats. One step and then another.

“You can... can do that. If you, um, if, if, if you-you... run.”

“I-... I couldn’t do that.” The pet looks off to the side, but his owner is still in the bathroom. There’s fear in his voice - that Chris can read without trying. Fear, he knows so well. “Where would I go?”

Chris manages a faint, thin smile. He wants to shake apart. He settles for holding out the feather. “Home,” He whispers.

Come on, Tris. You can do this. I believe in you.

“Home is-”

“Home is, is, isn’t this. It isn’t-... it, it, it isn’t him. It’s not an, any of, of, of of of them.” 

“But-”

“5-5-5,” Chris says softly. Sweat sticks his compression shirt to his back, cold trickles down the back of his neck. His heart pounds so hard his lungs have no room for air, his voice is breathless, barely even a whisper, now. “7-2-3-3. They’ll, they’ll help you. Call them.”

Rafael looks down at the feather, and slowly takes the soft purple silicone into his hand, rubbing his fingers over the carved plastic, then looks back up. “I love him,” He says, softly. “I was-”

“Made for, for him,” Chris finishes, not wanting to hear it in the other pet’s voice. Hating the idea that they both know every single phrase by heart, forever, and they can’t undo that. “But... I was, was, was, too. And I’m not, now.”

Rafael slides the feather into his back pocket, looking to the side, at the pristine, cloudless blue sky visible above the courtyard through the thick glass. “5-5-5,” He says, softly, “7-2-3-3.”

“Call,” Chris says, his voice failing him as his fear keeps rising. He has to swallow and steady himself to speak again. “Someone... somebody, somebody l-loved you.”

“But-”

“They, they, they lied to us.” It feels so weird to say it out loud, but he does. He can’t stop himself. “They lie to, to, to to-... to-to... to us all. Someone, somebody loved you.”

He has to go, he can’t be still a second longer, and he walks away without waiting for a response. His timing is perfect - he steps up to Laken just as the pet’s owner comes back from the restroom, sweeping past Chris - pretty but scarred, nothing special, please god don’t look at me - and moving back to Rafael, who smiles up at him with the same perfect, pristine affection Chris has seen in himself and in Kauri and in every single one of the ones like them.

Practiced at the edge of a knife, the lash of a whip, the crack of a cane, until they can turn it on and off on command, at will, whenever they need the smile to keep themselves safe.

Laken turns to him as he stops next to them, looking him over, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “You okay? Oh, hey, your feather’s gone. What happened?”

He allows himself a glance over his shoulder, sees the pet and his owner moving to another room, walking together. The hand at the small of Rafael’s back.

The broken cords from the necklace just barely visible sticking out of his pocket before Chris watches him push them further in to hide them.

“I, I, I gave it to, um, to someone,” He says, turning back to them, leaning over to kiss their cheek, barely a brush. “I, I, I need to go outside. The, um, the everything... can, can we, um, can we go-”

“Yeah, sure. No problem. Do we need to, like, go go, or...”

“No.” Chris looks up at the dinosaur Rafael had been looking at. “Oh, I, I, forgot to tell him it’s acrocanthosaurus.”

“What?”

“Um, noth-... nothing. Let’s, um, let’s go outside for for for a while.” 

Laken hand slides back into his and they walk out the opposite door that Rafael went through, Chris’s hand moving to tap on his own hip as he walks, calming himself with each quick rush of sensation. 

“Hey, hey Laken?”

“Yeah?”

“Remind me, um, remind me to, to, to-to-to call Nat later. Okay?”

“Sure. Why?”

They walk down a set of stairs, people moving quickly past or around them. He misses the weight of the feather over his chest, but he has more at home. And now there’s a pet with proof, tangible and real, that there’s a life to be made by leaving. 

A life worth living.

A life worth running without looking back.

“I, I, I want to tell her to, um, to tell the groups to... to see if someone calls them. I want to, to, to... to know if he does.”

“Who?”

“Um, I’ll, I’ll tell you, you... out, out, outside, okay?”

Somewhere inside him, as his pounding heart calms, his mother says, I’m so proud of you when he tells her that he spoke up. 

He knows Nat will say it, too. 

They surprise a bird in a burst of red wings out of a bush as they move outside, and Chris watches it fly across the courtyard and disappear into the canopy of a tree. 

One step, and then another, to build the man he is out of the boy he was before.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @wildfaewhump