#discussion of medical whump

[victimeyez]

Playing Dress-Up

Part of Professional//Victim

Tommy prepares for his next client with a new and improved attitude.

~

You know I never - I never seen you look so good, you never act the way you should…but I like it!

Tommy opened his mouth just enough, tucking the tip of his tongue behind his bottom lip to make it look fuller.

And I know you like it too...the way that I want you!

He pouted, creasing his eyebrows slightly. 

Raise them just a little higher to look more innocent - but don’t let the worry lines show. Tilt your head slightly down, flex your ears back to make your face more taut. 

I gotta have you…Oh yes, I do!

Tommy stood in front of the mirror, practicing. Shoulders down and slightly pressed forwards, as if to curl around himself. Shy, submissive. He tilted his head to one side, exposing his throat, a vulnerable display. Feigning as if he was too innocent to know better.

He didn’t think he was playing the music very loud at all, but he didn’t hear Caius approach. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he opened the bathroom door. 

“Are you ready?”

Tommy cleared his throat, struggling to compose himself. He looked at Caius and then back at himself in the mirror, reaching over without breaking his own eye contact to turn off his little radio. 

“What am I supposed to wear?” No, he could do better.

“What would you like me to wear?”

Caius leaned against the doorway, his arms folded, scanning Tommy up and down. 

“A little sailor suit with a giant lollipop.”

“Okay, do we have it here?”

Caius rolled his eyes. “I’m kidding. Lighten up a little.” Tommy smiled, nothing more than another practiced mask. 

Caius beckoned him. 

“Here, I picked a few options.” Tommy followed Caius the few steps back into his bedroom. 

There were a few items laying on his bed. A few dress shirts, skirts, leather pants, shiny latex-looking slacks, lingerie. There was also a heap of unrecognizable straps. 

Why prolong the inevitable. He shucked his clothes, folding them and leaving them to the side. It was always cold in the basement, and he wrapped his arms around himself. Caius selected a few things, humming thoughtfully. He handed a stack to Tommy, who reluctantly unfolded his arms to accept them. Fishnets, a latex leotard that would leave little to the imagination, and a black and white striped dress shirt. 

“Leave the shirt open. Fishnets first.”

Tommy sat on the bed and started pulling on the tights. He sure fucking hoped this wouldn’t be the outfit of choice, having fishnets and latex up in his crotch would be incredibly uncomfortable. 

Caius disappeared into his bathroom. Tommy bunched the tights in his hands, smoothing them as he pulled them up. Caius had made him watch a youtube tutorial about how to put on tights the first time he got dressed up - he’d shredded some of them struggling to get them on at the beginning. As satisfying as it had been to destroy them, getting them stuffed in his mouth and the beatings that ensued were definitely not worth it. 

From the bathroom, he heard his radio come back on, and Caius returned holding it triumphantly. He sat on the bed beside Tommy, making him slide slightly closer to where the bed sagged under his weight. 

There was a setting on the radio that Tommy didn’t use, a bluetooth connector to switch the radio to speaker mode. Caius connected to it with his phone and fiddled for a minute. Tommy was just glad to have his eyes off of him while he dressed.

Something with a poppy beat started playing. Tommy stood to step into the leotard, and slipped the dress shirt on. Caius made a face.

“Definitely not. Here, try - hmm…” He shuffled through the options.

“Leave the tights on, everything else off.” Tommy shucked his clothes, tentatively covering himself with his hands.

“What do they want?”

Caius looked up, a little surprised. 

“Uh…yeah, this one’s tricky. We’re going to have to be on the road for a couple days each way. Sam and Michelle are coming, we’ll be taking the van. Michelle has a friend down there I guess.”

“Sam is coming?” Tommy focused on keeping his face completely neutral, drawing his eyebrows up very slightly to look more open. 

“Yes, not exactly the vacation we’d been hoping for, but the client has requested some specific medical care.”

“What is the client like? Maybe I can help.” Tommy gestured to the pile of clothes. Specific medical care. One client had requested he be anesthetized during their session. It had disturbed him at the time, but now the prospect sounded like a blessing.

Caius gave him an odd look, and stopped rifling through the clothes. Tommy wondered if he could see his heart beat faster through his bare chest. Caius patted the bed beside him.

“Join me.”

Caius’s mood was peculiar, but Tommy wasn’t sensing any anger. He sat beside Caius, drawing up his legs to keep himself covered. Caius didn’t say anything for a moment, just thinking. The music tinkled on. 

“Is everything okay, Caius?”

It broke Caius out of his reverie and he drew a hand down his face, giving a breathy chuckle. 

“Yeah, I am. Smoked a little too much is all.” He sounded tired. He didn’t smoke weed often, waiting just long enough to forget that it just made him tired. 

“This client has an extensive doll collection. Special dolls, life–sized, apparently. Didn’t seem keen on hurting you, just having some play-time with someone a little more lively.”

“He wants companionship.”

Caius looked at him then, his expression curious. 

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Do you know what the other dolls look like? Is he into fashion?”

There was a little smile tugging at the edges of Caius’s thin lips. 

“He is very into fashion, yes. He showed me some pictures. Most of the dolls are women, though…and you know me, I don’t wear this kind of stuff.”

Tommy unrolled enough to start picking through the items himself, turning away from Caius.

“Is it all stuff like this, or are there regular clothes as well? I bet he’d like a more classic doll look – something victorian-inspired, or maybe a boy-next-door Ken doll thing going on?” He set aside a few pieces as he found them. Dress shirts, stockings, pants. 

“Tommy…you’re going to be paralyzed for the session.”

Tommy paused. Caius let him process for a moment before continuing. 

“Partial paralysis. You’ll be conscious, and able to feel some things, but you won’t be able to–

“A doll.�� 

“...Yes, A doll.”

Tommy took a deep breath in. Hold it. One, two, three, four. Breathe out - one, two, three, four…

Once he felt he could speak again, he forced a casual tone.

“Will he be dressing me? Moving me? A body harness could help with that.” He turned to the strappy mess and started extracting pieces, holding them up and trying to figure out what he was looking at. Caius stepped off the bed to join him, pulling a mass of thick leather straps out of the bottom of the pile. Tommy recognized it - he used to fear it, but now he looked at it with a numb apathy. Why bother feeling anything anymore.

“Yeah, that works. Then - these, and this one, and…” He stripped off the tights, pooling them around his feet before delicately stepping out. 

Swallow the shame. It’s not like he’s never seen you naked before. 

Caius helped buckle him into the body harness, which went on easier than Tommy remembered. 

It secured to his shoulders like a gun harness, connecting the straps on each side with a piece that went around the back of his neck. It worked comfortably enough with his collar. Straps wrapped around his midriff, down to frame his groin and dig into his hips. He slipped the black latex slacks on next - at least they were a bit looser, enough to hide the straps underneath, and easier to pull on than the leather pants. 

The white dress shirt was already unbuttoned, so it was easy to slip into and button the sleeves. Caius made quick work of fastening the rest, leaving the last few buttons undone. 

“Does this work?” Tommy posed like a paper doll, limbs spread and exposed. 

Caius plucked something small from the pile. 

“One last thing…” He held up a black latex bowtie.

“Normally, I don’t opt for clip ons, but this one goes on your collar.”

Tommy held still while Caius clipped it on and then stepped back, looking him over with a critical eye. Whatever he saw, he nodded in approval, and fished his phone back out. He started a call, the background music abruptly cutting off. When Caius held his phone out, Tommy realized it was a video call. He didn’t feel ready to face a client right now, but - fuck, when did he?

“Dae-Ho? It’s Caius - I wanted to get your opinion.” He tapped the screen and relaxed slightly, pointing towards Tommy. The client looked at him through a one-way mirror, invisible behind the mechanical eye of the phone camera. From the speaker phone, Tommy could hear the client breathing. 

“Yes…I see. Say, hi Dae-Ho!” Dae-Ho’s voice was accented, but he spoke english with a delicate enunciation.

Tommy managed a smile.

“Hi Dae-Ho.”

“Take your shirt off, Tommy,” Caius urged him. Tommy’s smile didn’t waiver - he pretended he was plastic, too. He worked his way down the buttons, untucking the last few inches of the shirt from his pants. 

Put on a show. 

He peeled the shirt off of one shoulder, then the other, letting the fabric pool around his elbows as he exposed the harness. Tommy looked up shyly, checking Caius’s reaction. He was still holding the phone steady, but his eyes were on Tommy. 

He shimmed the shirt off, collecting it in one hand and tossing it to his bed off to the side. 

“I like the bowtie.” Dae-Ho’s breathing was becoming louder, labored. Before Dae-Ho or Caius asked, he slowly started to undo his pants. It was a strip show under duress, solely to the tune of exposed pipes and the other basement sounds. 

He rolled his hips as he worked them down, peeling them off the cold sweat on his legs. Dae-Ho’s breathing was faster, closer. He was excited. Caius had a wonton look as he watched, too, until Tommy worked them down to his ankles. 

He wasn’t sure he could try to fully pull them off. A vision came to him of catching his foot on the material as he tried to step out of them and eating shit on the basement floor. Luckily, no one pressed. 

“Yes, this will do just fine.” Dae-Ho’s voice was husky, thick with desire.

Caius tapped the screen again, putting on his best selfie face once more. 

“Just a little sneak preview. We’ll see you soon.” They hung up, and it was just Tommy and Caius again. Tommy, with his pants around his ankles, starting to flush as he failed to ward off embarrassment any longer. 

Caius helped him out of the harness and collected the clothes again, setting the chosen outfit to the side. Tommy was quick to get his regular clothes back on, underwear suddenly feeling like armor after his shameful display. He couldn’t stop his face from burning. Caius was in a good mood though, humming when the music popped back on once he ended the call. He took the clothes out of the room and quickly returned, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Caius stalked up to Tommy, sitting on the edge of his bed again, and leaned over to catch his chin. He tilted his face up slightly, forcing eye contact with his ward. 

“Hey,” His voice was unexpectedly soft. 

“It’s good to see you’ve taken our talk to heart. I like that you are choosing to participate. Isn’t this better?”

Tommy’s chest ached. 

“Yeah, I guess it is,” he managed to croak. 

Caius smiled and patted his cheek. 

“If you were smart, you would feel empowered by this. Just don’t forget who is really in charge, yeah?”

Tommy fought the lump in his throat, and settled on nodding. Caius straightened back up and traversed the short walk to the door. 

“No dinner tonight, I want you to be perfect for Dae-Ho. You can wait until breakfast.” He paused on his way out, waiting to see if Tommy would protest. 

Neutral face, neutral face, totally serene. 

“Goodnight, Caius.”

Caius smiled, sliding a hand down the edge of the door.

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

Alone at last, Tommy slumped back on his bed, rubbing his hands over his face over and over. His stomach was already cramping. 

He lapped at the cold water from his bathroom faucet until he felt bloated with it, and squeezed out some toothpaste to lick off his hand. Too much and he’d be sick, but he could estimate his tolerance now. He wasn’t sure it actually helped, but it at least felt like he was trying something, and that would just have to be enough. 

Tommy turned out the lights and settled under his covers, keeping the dark at bay by the glow of his TV. Frasier was on, but it was an episode about his dad, and one Tommy preferred not to watch. He didn’t have the energy or emotion to spare on television, overwhelmed as he already was with his own feelings. 

He stared at the ceiling and practiced being paralyzed, until he finally fell asleep.

~

~

~

Taglist: @suspicious-whumping-egg  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @jumpywhumpywriter

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @knivestothroats @paperprinxe

Thank you all so much for reading!

[i-eat-worlds]

Wow Birthday Whump Day 5: Alt. Bridal Carry and “No!”

This is a fun one :) Teri whump!

Content: discussions and fear of death, brief hospital setting, severe illness, medic caretaker,

Teri smiled as Avia shuffled the cards, ignoring the pain pulsing in her head. The calm noise of the rec room buzzed around them, heroes playing thrilling games of air hockey and Mario Kart behind them. Avia had complained about a “post mission high,” and Teri wasn’t feeling super great, so they had opted for something calmer.

“Cut the cards.” They offered her the deck, narrowing their eyes. “Are you okay?”

She scrubbed her face. “Nothing. Probably caffeine.”

Avia took the deck back, dealt five cards to her, then five cards to herself, and placed it in the center of the table. Teri flipped the first card over, revealing a six of hearts. “You should probably lay off that stuff.”

“Yeah. But it tastes good.” She discarded a six of spades.

They snickered. “Fair enough.”

Teri sighed, drawing three more cards until they got one they could play. A moment of silence passed. “That was one hell of a job though.”

“Yeah. How many new baddies were there?” They grumbled something under their breath, realizing they couldn’t play.

“Seven or eight? To many.” She slapped down another card. Her stomach twisted, but she kept the discomfort off her face.

“Fuck,” they muttered, drawing another four cards. “I think they’re scraping the bottom of the barrel on the name front too.”

“Oh absolutely.” She smirked, ridding herself of a three of spades. “What was that one guy called- “The vaposquasher” or something?”

“I don’t know. There's too many of them to keep track of.” Her hand was starting to get stretched thin, keeping a hold of all of the cards.

“Yeah.” They lapsed into silence. The full day had lapped up their energy quite a bit, and they were both tired.

Her heart fluttered a little, discomfort flaring in her chest, and she made a face. Definitely too much caffeine then.

“You sure you’re alright?” Avia said, filling her hand with two more cards.

She nodded, using two fingers to flip over the last card in her hand, a queen of spades. “I know I’m alright.” She brought it down triumphantly. “I believe that makes me the winner.”

Avia gave her a look. “Pride comes before the fall, Teri.” They started to reshue their cards back into the deck, preparing for another round. “I’ll get you next time.”

The vibrating in her chest flared again, and she could feel her heart pounding double time. Her vision lurched, the room whirling around her for a moment. “Um, I think I’m going to go to bed.” She looked down at her watch. “Maybe the telekinesis did more than I thought today.”

“I’ll come with then. We all know I should be getting more sleep anyway.” They slid the cards back into their packaging. Teri stood up, trying not to wobble too much. Though they didn’t say anything, she could feel Avia behind her, ready to catch her just in case.

They made it to the elevator without issue, but halfway up, Teri found herself swaying again. The bright, reflective box was spinning, and the railing was unhelpful in that regard. She could feel it closing in on her, the walls narrowing, and she turned to Avia, frantically trying to get her to understand that something was wrong. Black dots filled her vision and she went limp, collapsing into Avia’s chest.

Eventually, she came too with her head pressed against Avia’s chest, arms positioned under her knees and upper back. The world felt like molasses, still gooey and unstable as she lifted her head up. “Hi ‘via.”

Avia looked relieved. “You’re awake.”

She nodded a little. “I need ‘oseph…” Her heart was still thundering in her chest. “Something’s wrong..”

“I’m getting you to him.” She turned the corner, trying not to jostle Teri too much.

“Oh..thank you….” Teri’s head bounced against Avia’s chest.

“I’ve got cha’.” They arrived outside of the door, and Avia pushed it open with her foot.

She charged straight through the foyer, laying Teri out on the couch. “Joseph?” Her voice carried through the apartment as he looked around for him.

“What do you need, Avia?” He walked down the hallway, steps quickening when he saw Teri laying on the couch. Judging from the basketball shorts and slippers, he had been about five minutes from going to bed. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. She passed out in the elevator.” Avai looked at him frantically.

“I’ll look her over, yeah.” He knelt down in front of the couch. “Can you get me my stuff from under the sink?” Her eyes lingered on Teri for a moment before she turned and shot down the hallway.

Joseph leaned forward. “Teri, are you with me?”

Her eyes flickered towards him. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he smiled at her, two fingers pressing into the thumb side of her wrist. “Do you know where you are?”

She nodded. “Apartment. With Avia. We were playing cards.”

Her skin was cool and sweaty underneath his touch. “How do you feel right now?”

“Tired. And dizzy. And my head hurts.” She was quiet for a moment. “It’s…It’s hard to breathe and my chest feels fluttery.”

Avia reappeared, setting the bag down next to him. “Can you call the response team?” He asked her.

Teri’s eyes went wide. “You think it’s that bad?”

He pulled on a pair of gloves as he spoke. “I think it's worth getting you some more help. They have equipment that I don’t, yeah.” She nodded, a little tearfully. “When did this start?”

“After we got back?” She shifted. The fact that breathing was difficult was obvious. “It wasn’t like this, just a headache, and some dizziness.”

“Have you taken anything at all? Even like an ibuprofen?” He unzipped the bag, pulling out the AED to get to what he needed.

“No.” She shook her head, then slowly pushed herself up with her elbow. “Not even caffeine.”

The movement caught his eye. “Is it better when you’re sitting up?”

“Yeah.” She pushed herself up more, and he let her.

“Alright.” Now that she was sitting, he no longer had to kneel. “When did you last eat or drink?”

The position change seemed to bring her some relief. “After we got back. A couple hours ago.”

“I’m going to get your vitals, and then we’ll go from there, yeah?” She nodded, and he started by clipping the pulse oximeter to her arm. After that came blood pressure, and that was where the real party started.

He kept his face neutral as he deflated the cuff. Hypertensive crisis. Wonderful. Her temperature and pupils were fine, but she was breathing too fast and he could feel the irregularity of her heartbeat in her wrist.

An even worse look spread across her face. “Joseph, somethings really wrong.” She pawed at her chest. “I don’t know…but it's not right.”

“The response team is on their way.” He squeezed her hand. “We’ll figure it out, yeah. You’re in good hands.”

“I just…” Her mouth made a million shapes but no words. “I don’t wanna die, Joseph.”

His eyes flew to her as soon as the words left her mouth. “Hey, hey, hey, no. I’m going to take care of you, yeah.” She was crying messily, and she might not have even heard him.

“It’s bad, Joseph, it’s really bad.” She reached out towards him, clinging onto the shiny material of his shorts.

His eyebrows furrowed. “How about you get on the ground?”

Teri listened, shakily lowering herself down onto the floor. The carpet was grating on her skin. “Joseph…Joseph I need…” She sobbed. “I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die.”

The world shimmered for a moment, before everything gathered into a pinpoint and disappeared. She was sure Joseph was saying something, but the only words that got to her before oblivion was Avia’s terrified, shrieked “Teri no!”

***

Joseph hunched over in the uncomfortable, too-hard chair at Teri’s bedside. Avia was snoring softly behind him, asleep in the much more comfortable seat, but he didn’t really care. Comfort would’ve been foreign to him anyway.

The normally background hum of the ward was extra jarring, and even though he knew what all of them did, seeing Teri surrounded by so many machines wasn’t exactly comforting. She’d arrested, right on the floor of Turquoise’s common room. It made sense then, but now that everything had calmed down, it felt worse. Random and targeted, at the same time.

He reached for her hand, careful of the cannula burrowed inside it. They’d said she was likely to recover, said that whatever crazy ass thing the supervillain had done was wearing off, said that she was responding to treatment and that her prognosis looked good, but it still didn’t erase the sinking feeling in his gut.

He’d promised her, he’d promised Pat, that he wouldn’t lose another. And this had cut far too close for comfort.

The words ghosted the back of his mind, amongst the chaos and the panic and the blood.

“Always kid, Always.”

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps@rainydaywhump@painful-pooch@rainbowsandwhumperflies@snaillamp @whumperofworlds

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives Part 26: I Will Make You Better

~1220 words

CW: Medical whump, therapist/doctor whumper, mention of past noncon, clinical discussion of suicide and self harm, panic, flashbacks, overmedication, pressured eating 

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

~~~

DR MANDAL: You know I have to ask. Where are you right now with your relationship with Simon?

M BECK: I know. I know I keep flip flopping. But it really depends on where he’s at once he gets out of Summerwhite.

DR MANDAL: I’ve noticed something. Let me know if you think I’m wrong. In all of our discussions about whether you will maintain a relationship with Simon, and what kind of relationship it will be, you always hang your decision on his feelings. His mental health. His experience. Do you think that’s accurate?

M BECK: Yeah. I just want him to be happy.

DR MANDAL: I’d like you to try thinking more about your feelings, your health, your experience. What’s going to be the best for you?

M BECK: I want to be with him.

DR MANDAL: I understand that, and if it works out that’s wonderful. But Matthew, you are still having severe flashbacks. Additionally, you described that interacting with Simon brought on upsetting flashbacks while you were together in the clinic. Now, I see your face, I’m not saying that this would make a relationship impossible. All I want is for you to consider your own health and safety when you think about how a relationship with Simon would work.

[0:55]

M BECK: [Unintelligible]

DR MANDAL: Matthew, take deep breaths. You’re okay. You’re here with me. Breathe with me.

M BECK: [Unintelligible]

DR MANDAL: I know, Matthew. I know.

~~~

“And how would you rate your desire to harm yourself, zero being none and ten being you have a plan to kill yourself?”

“Zero.”

The gray-haired doctor, Deckard, glared at Simon over the top of his glasses.

“Lying won’t get you out of here sooner.”

“I’m not lying.” Simon did his best to keep his voice gentle, soft, non-argumentative, the way everyone liked it. It was hard with how much his stomach hurt.

“You were voluntarily a vampire’s chew toy until last week, that’s self-harm. If he showed up right now to take you away with him, would you go?”

“No.” That was a lie. The thought of Matthew - human or vampire - taking Simon away from this horrible place was almost more hopeful than he could bear.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, and if you don’t tell me the truth I’m writing you up.”

Simon winced.

“One,” he compromised, “Just one.”

“Hm.” Dr Deckard’s pen scraped across his clipboard, writing far more than a tally in a feelings chart. Simon’s knee bounced with nerves.

He was sitting across from Deckard in the doctor’s office, a massive cluttered desk between them. It could have been a bright room, but the tall arched windows were covered with cheap blinds. Fluorescent panel lights hung from the water-stained ceiling, flickering just enough to be noticeable but not enough to be fixed. Bookshelves along one wall were too neat to be used much, contrasting with the paperwork-flooded desk.

“My job,” Dr Deckard announced suddenly, “Is to make sure that you are not a threat to yourself or others. We’ve started working on the ‘yourself’ part already.” He leaned forward to look at Simon, adding the clipboard to the stacks on his desk. “Let’s start on the other. Tell me about Lara.”

Simon’s heart rate picked up instantly, his own eyes bouncing between Dr Deckard’s watery blue ones. Surely he’d misheard the doctor.

“What?”

“You became violent while under great duress before, I need to make sure it won’t happen again while you’re here.”

Christian told him.

Of course he did.

“It won’t.”

“Regardless. Walk me through the events leading up to your outburst.”

Outburst?

“I don’t…” Simon felt a lump growing in his throat. He felt stupid for crying so easily, But he was so tired, and his stomach hurt, and he’d only found one friendly face in this whole facility.

“What made you so angry with Lara?”

It wasn’t anger. It was never anger. Simon could never be angry with Lara. But he was so scared of antagonizing the doctor that he didn’t correct it.

Bowers.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dr Deckard tried a comforting smile, but it came off more like a chimp baring its teeth.

“I need to know, it’s for the best. For everyone’s safety.”

I need to know.

Simon was back there in an instant, trapped under Matthew.

This is for your own good.

“I really don’t-” he hiccupped with a suppressed sob, “I can’t-”

I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to tell me.

Simon pressed his hands to his face, shrinking down in the chair.

“Where are you right now, Simon? Are you with Lara?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” His voice strained with the effort of speaking quietly. He didn’t want to yell. He couldn’t yell. Not after the first time.

“Is Lara hurting you?”

Even now, Simon couldn’t help but defend her.

“Lara never hurt me,” he said, the words coming out in a low whine.

“Captain Isles…” Dr Deckard shuffled through the papers in front of him, and his voice grew stronger when he found what he was looking for. “Isles relayed that Lara would hit you and sexually assault you. Is that not true?”

It was. It wasn’t. Lara was different. But Simon knew Dr Deckard would believe Christian over him, so he nodded, dropping his hands to his lap and rubbing them anxiously against his thighs.

“It’s not true?”

Fuck.

Simon felt his stomach roll, and he clutched at it. He was given so many pills, and he knew they were wreaking havoc on his body. The doctors and nurses asked so many confusing questions, and made all sorts of assumptions, until it was too far beyond Simon’s ability to explain everything in the right way, in a way that would make sense to them, in a way that would make them leave him alone.

Fucking idiot.

“She did, but that’s not what - that’s not what I’m, I’m upset about, I just - please, I don’t want to talk about this, I don’t feel well!” he sobbed.

“Simon, look at me,” said Dr Deckard, quiet but firm, “You need to try. You have to want to get better.”

He wanted to get better, he really did. Matthew had told him to.

But this felt wrong.

The next tear-filled and flashback-riddled twenty minutes went nowhere. Simon was deposited back in the common room with a protein drink, red-eyed and exhausted.

“Hey sweet thing.” Chett approached him immediately. “Rough sesh?”

Simon nodded gratefully. He had wildly misjudged Chett at their first encounter - apparently Simon was unfamiliar with southern hospitality. He let Chett lead them to his usual table. It was just the two of them that day; Chett’s previous companions were long gone after their 72-hour holds. About two-thirds of Fort Summerwhite’s occupancy came and went like that. It was dizzying for Simon to almost always be surrounded by strangers, especially as he slept in a room with two others. But Chett had become a kindly constant, and he helpfully reminded Simon to keep swigging the protein drink as they played gin rummy with shaking hands.

He was underweight - if he took too long to drink it, he’d get in trouble.

No one wanted to get in trouble at Summerwhite.

~~~

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper

[onehoplessromantic]

Masterlist | Glen Powell

Jake “Hangman” Seresin - Tyler Owens

Updated: 11/3/2024 (link check)

!!authors!! if you want ur work removed please pm me

I’m back again with another one!!! It’s definitely not as lengthy as my other lists (yet) but I’m hoping to find some more for all three. I also figured I’d get a stake in this territory as the Glen Powell fanclub grows post-twisters. I hope y’all find what you’re looking for!

peace 💕

join the taglist here

fluff-> 🤍 | smut -> 🍋 | angst -> 🌧️ | major tw -> ‼️

Jake “Hangman” Seresin

𐚁 BROTHERS BEST FRIEND | @tongue-like-a-razor

13 parts | ongoing | 🤍🌧️🍋

Jake Seresin x Bradshaw!Reader

The trials and tribulations of falling for your brothers best friend.

𐚁 BRUISES | @ohtobeleah

8 parts | complete | 🌧️‼️

Jake Seresin x WSO!Reader

After a mission goes south, Jake finds himself captured by insurgents that show no remorse. But whats worse than knowing he failed his mission? Knowing that the Weapons Systems Officer who trusted him to bring her home safe was in the same cell as him. Collecting bruises that match his own.

themes of heavy violence, sexual assault, torture, 18+ content, minors dni, mature themes, being held in captivity, hostage style situations, main character death! whump, angst, conversations that discuss antisocial and antisemetic views

𐚁 ROCKS ARE ALLOWED TO CRACK, STARS ARE ALLOWED TO DIM | @sarahsmi13s

oneshot | wc: ~8.0k | 🌧️

jake ‘hangman’ seresin x fem!pilot!reader

everyone deserves someone to comfort them in their time of need, even the ones that always lend their shoulder.

angst, language, ptsd, description of accident, panic attack, injuries, descriptions of scars, flashbacks, fear of death, familial death (mentioned), crying, bottling up feelings

𐚁 THE WALLS ARE CAVING IN | @desert-fern

oneshot | wc: 5.5k | 🌧️🤍

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x fem!Reader (known as honey bee/honey)

You are sunshine incarnate, the life of the party who is so free with your affection. Jake finds himself struggling to express his desire to be like you while wrestling with his past, what happens when it all comes crashing down around him? AKA Jake is both touch-starved and in love.

jake has a shit dad, angst, still fluffy tho

𐚁 THE BEANERY | @callsign-peach

oneshot | wc: ?? | 🤍

established hangman x female!reader

Jake goes from drinking the base’s stale coffee to bringing in cups from the cafe down the road from the hard deck, and the dagger squad is determined to find out why.

tooth-rotting fluff

Tyler Owens

𐚁 LIKE MOTHER LIKE FATHER LIKE DAUGHTER | @wisdomssdaughterr

oneshot | wc: 3.7k | 🌧️🤍

tyler owens x harding!reader

you had made a name for yourself in the storm chasing game; it was in your genes, being the daughter of the famous chasers jo and bill harding. tyler found your knack for knowing just what the storms thinking, a little infuriating and incredibly impressive

fem!reader, reader gets injured, mentions of blood and injuries, probably inaccurate meteorological info and medical info, angst, fluff, some hurt/comfort

𐚁 CHASE YOUR FEARS | @briefinquiries

oneshot | wc: 11k | 🤍🌧️

tyler owens x f!reader

you and your younger brother are road-tripping across the US when you encounter a tornado. Luckily, the tornado wrangler himself shows up to help.

tornados, fear, flufffff

𐚁 WORTH YOUR WHILE | @wisdomssdaughterr

oneshot | wc: 2.9k | 🤍🌧️

tyler owens x fem!reader

As the local weather woman, you shared an interesting rivalry with your hometown storm-chaser. While you always reported on the dangerous weather from a safe distance, Tyler barreled into it head-first. But things change in the night of the county fair when you find yourself in the middle of a storm rather than the safety of a newsroom.

dramatic fluff, hurt/comfort, description of tornadoes, language, description of injury, slightly inaccurate meteorological info

Glen Powell

𐚁 HEY THERE DARLIN’ | @shellbilee

6 parts | complete | 🤍🌧️🍋

Glen Powell x OFC (Billie James)

fluff, swearing, angst, eventual smut

ⓒ onehopelessromantic, November 2024

[oliversrarebooks]

sedation whump tho

TW: sedation, drugging, restraints, helplessness

Being drugged into unconsciousness, sure.

But what's even better is a whumpee who is sedated, but not enough to put them completely under.

Just vaguely aware of what's happening, watching through heavy eyelids that keep wanting to close on them.

Too sleepy to fight back as they're picked up and strapped down, awake enough to know what a bad position they're in but too asleep to stop it from happening.

So drowsy that they keep drifting in and out of sleep even as the whumper prepares medical tools or torture implements or strange experiments.

Just awake enough to mumble sleepy little protests or respond to simple questions.

They manage to wake themselves up, but their body is still too uncoordinated to do anything about it when the whumper picks up their limp arm and injects them with another dose of sedative.

Fluttering, sleepy eyes above a mask that's keeping them dazed and out of it, as their kidnappers discuss what to do with them now that they're helpless.

So drugged and sedated that they lack the willpower to tear their eyes away from the hypnotic screen, letting their suggestible mind absorb all the words from the hypnotic earphones.

A sedated whumpee trying to escape, knowing that if they slow down or let their eyes close the guards will be on them in a moment and they're too drugged to fight back.

A whumpee who has been hit with a tranquilizer dart and managed to find a place to hide, desperately trying to keep themselves awake as their pursuers come closer and closer.

[wangxianficfinder]

I'm in the mood for...

Aug 21st

~*~

1. hii! ITMF fics where the cultivation world finds out the truth about the Wen remnants in burial mounds either through a memory viewing/array spying thing at a discussion conference or someone personally visiting the burial mounds and sees the truth for themselves. Some of the fics I've enjoyed that has this: A Step in the Wrong Direction by pupeez4eva, Revealing Truth by DreamNightmare, The Path by Seastar98, Green-gege Saves a lot of Lives by Eternal_writes, Righteous at a Cost by thunderwear

Teen Project to Change the World by animeloverhomura (Not Rated, WIP, 841k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, Watching the Show, With a bit of the Manhua and Book thrown in, BAMF WWX, Fix-It, JGS is his own warning, Attractive WWX, Homophobia, disturbing imagery)

Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

Discordant Rhapsody by nirejseki (T, 49k, LQR & WWX, wangxian, JC & WWX, WQ & WWX & WN, LWJ & LQR & LXC, canon divergence, fix-it, hurt/comfort, trauma, politics, protective LQR, protective LWJ, protective WWX, LQR centric, whump, angst)

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, WangXian, canon divergence, yiling wei sect au, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, fix-it of sorts)

while covered in mud by merthurlin (T, 12k, NHS & WWX, NHS & NMJ, NHS & Wen remnants, mentioned wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, NHS goes farming and Hates It)

~*~

2. Hi! I could have sworn there were reaction fics where both the older wangxian and younger wangxian were there but I can't find any right now, could you help me?

~*~

3. Hi!!!!! Itmf request for any fics where LWJ is uber powerful and pampers the hell out of WWX but the focus isn't on smut? I don't mind sex being included,I just don't want it to be 90% of the fic or the driving plot point! Thank you!!! <3

我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 84k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan)

願陛下 | by his majesty's decree by sweetlolixo (E, 40k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Concubine WWX, Harems, Pining LWJ, LWJ is not a dragon in this one but he descended from them :), Childhood Sweethearts (sort of), Romance, minimal angst, Happy Ending, NHS & WWX are concubine BFFs, LWJ has NO EYES for anyone besides WWX don’t worry the harem is only for the plot setting, Fantasy, Pregnant WWX, Possessive LWJ, Fluff)

To Deliver an Heir by cerbykerby (E, 49k, WangXian, slight dubcon/noncon but wangxian are into it, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Heat Sex, Knotting, Royalty Medical, Emperor LWJ, Physician WWX, Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Breeding, Creampie, LWJ literally cannot stop himself from coming in WWX, Breastfeeding)

~*~

4. Any good outside pov fics? ITMF any fic where a character sees wangxian's bond or is surprised at how much wwx can get away with irt the rules with lwj. Just... Idrc about the plot, I just wanna see some reactions to wangxian lol! Preferably not a modern or no cultivation au tho, I love the canon universe too much!!

pitfalls of greed by glitteringmoonlight (T, 3k, WangXian, POV Outsider, BAMF WWX, Kidnapping, Violence, YLLZ WWX, not exactly but the vibes are there, Post-Canon)

The following are time travel fics but involve outsiders being astonished by Wei Wuxian & Lan Wangji's behavior towards each other

trouble with time by cloudpd (T, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, POV Outsider, Humor, POV JC, he's so fed up with wangxian, rightfully so, wangxian are shameless, kind of crack, JC's inner dialogue for this whole fic is just: what the fuck, POV LXC, because LXC deserves to be subjected to gross wangxian as well!!, the third chapter is LJY going "WWX rights!!", and that's all im going to say about that, horny wangxian time travel: the thrilling conclusion)

Wait, What? by MarbleGlove (G, 1k, WangXian, Time Travel, POV Outsider)

the world is but a stage for the two of us by MandMandM (Not Rated, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Established Relationship, Shameless WangXian)

~*~

5. Hello, can i get wangxian fic recs where meng yao is a good guy and close friends with wei wuxian? canonverse, modern day, etc doesn't matter. I'd also love wangxian recs where they adopt jingyi please <3

Meng Yao becomes more like a brother to Wei Ying than a close friend so I hope these are okay:

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 45k, WangXian, MY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Adopted WWX, POV Multiple, warning for JGS behaving exactly as expected, child endangerment, Brother Feels, Minor Character Death, [Podfic] Cold read of "what builds a home" by Stratisphyre by KeriArentikaiPods (KeriArentikai))

and

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters., hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings.) (link in 8C)

Meng Yao vs. the Board of the Homeowner's Association Series by Ariaste (M/T, 119k, WIP, XiYao, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, xiyao and wangxian are both already married, Family Feels, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Slice of Life, Discussions of Past Trauma, wwx's canonical kinks, HOAverse)

~*~

6. Hello! I finished reading Digging Graves by nirejseki so i am itmf any fics where someone asks/begs wei wuxian to bring someone back to life/turn someone they loved who died into a fierce corpse. Thanks :D

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Road trips, rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Conversations, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin)

~*~

7. Hi! for the next itmf, i was wondering if there are any fics where wei wuxian gets his core back after giving it to jiang cheng? not him cultivating a new core but getting his original core back

i just find that idea fascinating. thank you for your help always!!

A Child’s Wish by Hauntcats (Not rated, 13k, wangxian, WWX & Wen remnants, Celestial meddling, Not JC Friendly, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone gets what they deserve, Age Regression/De-Aging, Child LWJ)

💖 Return to Sender by Thesaurus_with_no_words (M, 73k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX , WangXian Get a Happy Ending, YLLZ WWX, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies, canon JC characteristics, Temporary Amnesia, Partial Memory Loss, Literal Emotional Manipulation, Unreliable Narrator, Unreliable Narrator WWX, they are all unreliable ok, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon typical horror and gore, Slow Burn)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

Can’t Tell Me Nothin by natacup82 (T, 35k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Family Feels, Communication, BAMF Women)

~*~

8. Hello! itmf these three types of fics:

A) canonverse, Madam Lan lives, wangxian (i didnt know madam lan lives was a tag now I need to see how her existence in canon can change the storyline and wangxian as a whole)

B) Yiling Wei Sect fics (could be wangxian or other wei wuxian M/M ships)

C) Fics where Wei Wuxian takes disciples (whether as Yiling Wei sect Yiling Patriarch or any other reason... preferably xue yang or mo xuanyo)

8A)

💖 An Unexpected Visitor by Hauntcats (G, 8k, QHJ/Madam Lan, wangxian, fix-it of sorts, not Jiang friendly, not jin friendly, happy ending)

Every Mother's Son by Chrononautical (T, 11k, WangXian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Madam Lán Leaves Cloud Recesses, Madam Lan rescues women from abusive husbands in feudal Japan and honestly that's so valid of her, mentions of rape/non-con between Madam Lan & Qingheng-Jun)

no step had trodden black by Stratisphyre (T, 32k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, madam lan lives, past rape, golden core reveal, hurt/Comfort, referenced to attempted suicide & suicidal thoughts, canon-typical violence)

8B)

🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)

body and soul by TooSel (E, 41k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Marriage Proposal, Everyone Lives AU, Cultivation Sect Politics, Yílíng Wèi Sect AU, Adoption, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, WangXian, canon divergence, yiling wei sect au, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, fix-it of sorts)

💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27, Mojo’s post)

Run Off The World by Sapphire_Roses (M, 302k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, SL/XXC, WIP, Not Everyone Dies AU, Canon Divergence, Wen Remnants Live, Flashbacks, YLLZ WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect, Sect Leader WWX, Married WangXian, OCs, POV Outsider, Morally Grey Characters, (Do Take That Tag Seriously), Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Developing Friendships, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, Gusu Siblings Feels, Sibling Bonding, Pining, Character Study, Tenderness, Mild Smut, POV Alternating, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Minor Character Death) link in #8C

the sea meets the moon-blanched land by rkivees (G, 44k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Childhood Trauma, Sect Leader WWX, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WQ, Good Parent LQR, First Love, Love Confessions, minor jiang sibs appearance, Mentioned LXC, Past Child Abuse, Drunken Shenanigans, Past Violence, No Golden Core Transfer, Non-Linear Narrative)

8C)

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters., hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings.)

Run Off The World by Sapphire_Roses (M, 302k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, SL/XXC, WIP, Not Everyone Dies AU, Canon Divergence, Wen Remnants Live, Flashbacks, YLLZ WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect, Sect Leader WWX, Married WangXian, OCs, POV Outsider, Morally Grey Characters, (Do Take That Tag Seriously), Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Developing Friendships, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, Gusu Siblings Feels, Sibling Bonding, Pining, Character Study, Tenderness, Mild Smut, POV Alternating, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Minor Character Death)

🔒necromancy is a valid career path! Series by coslyons, Skadiseven (T, 41k, WangXian, XY & WWX & WN & WQ, Modern with Magic AU, Seattle, Necromancy, Found Family, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gardens & Gardening, Mathematics, Running, Growing up)

~*~

9. Heyo, this is for ITMF!

Can you rec any fics that have WWX return to his old body? Can be post-canon or during canon after his resurrection. I wanna see how people react to him being in his Glorious Beautiful Sexy self :>

Transcend by covalentbonds (not rated, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut, YLLZ WWX is prettiest fight me) features Wei Ying transforming into his original body and being lusted after.

Tripped at Every Step by brooklinegirl (E, 28k, WangXian) These

the hidden source is the watchful heart by o_honeybees (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Domesticity, Touch-Starved, Grief/Mourning, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Unresolved Sexual Tension,Eventual Smut, reflections on selfishness and selflessness) fics

This House of Ill Repute by Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (M, 13k, WangXian, First Time, Post-Canon, Getting Together) also have Wei Ying in his original body but it's not the focus of the story

Saw My Life in a Stranger's Face by timetoboldlygo (T, 27k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Married Life, Domestic Fluff, Light Angst, wwx's face changes post-canon to look like his original face, Slight Panic Attack, because lwj doesn't recognize his husband, the mortifying ordeal of not knowing your own body, the terrifying inevitability of change, taller!wwx theory)

~*~

10. hello! thank you for the work you do.. do you have recs for novel canon only (no cql) fics?

~*~

11. hello this is for itmf! do you have any fics where sizhui remembers wei wuxian after the fever/doesn't lose his early memories, or lan wangji making the effort to talk about wei wuxian to sizhui? thank you!

although my mind is young, it is not gentle by everythingispoetry ( T, 27k, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Disability, Parenthood, Growing Up, Family Dynamics, Character Study, Self-Discovery) Sizhui doesn't really know who he remembers about but there are moments of him remembering wei wuxian through dreams

~*~

12. I was rewatching the show recently and got to the scene where the Lan juniors and LWJ all stood in front of WWX when Jin Ling approached him in the caves after the stabbing. I was wondering for ITMF if there were any fics where the juniors are protective of WWX? Preferably if Sizhui is a prominent character in the fics, but I'll take any junior being protective tbh. Thank you!

🧡 the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation)

bespoke by cafecliche (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, LSZ is a very good boy, which is specifically a tag for the fic but also just true in general, mostly novel-compliant but could easily be CQL-compliant too)

🔒 The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 19k, WangXian, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, LJY’s sense of justice, OYZZ’s sense of romance, Featuring a surprise appearance by WWX’s oft-absent sense of shame, Look the ducklings just want their sort-of dads to be happy okay?, And it’s not like WWX or LWJ are doing a good job of ensuring their own happiness, LJY rejects canon reality and substitutes his own, highly relatable actually, Post-Canon Fix-It, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon, Podfic Available, Russian Translation Available)

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (G, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, POV Outsider, 5+1 Things) has Lan Jingyi, as well as other Lans, standing up for Wei Ying.

~*~

13. Wwx as royal prince with hidden identity

~*~

14. Wwx gets badly hurt while protecting jzx during jl 100 day celebration

the breaking of your soul (upon my lips) by sunsandships (M, 40k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Mutual Pining, Golden Core Reveal, Happy Ending) Wei Ying gets badly injured at Qiongqi Path while protecting Jin Zixuan in chapter 8 but Wei Ying was escorting betrothal gifts from the Jin, rather than attending Jin Ling's celebration.

Cradle by Dragonesque (T, 196k, WIP, Canon Divergenc, Adopted children, Yiling Wei Sect, BAMF WWX) Wwx gets badly hurt while protecting jzx during jl 100 day celebration - cradle by dragonesque on ao3 (and its inspiration fic) both feature wwx getting badly hurt and origins of yiling wei sect

~*~

15. I finished reading a wangxian oneshot in which lan xichen tries to get wei wuxian in his bed but fails and so...itmf lan xichen/wei wuxian, nie mingjue/wei wuxian, wen ruohan/wei wuxian fic recs. Preferably complete with bottom wei wuxian if they have smut. Thank you!!

The Joke of Fate by ShallChair (E, 357k, LXC/WWX, Canon Divergence, Marriage First Love Later, Love at First Sleep, Smut, First Time, First Kiss, the Flower Banquet's timeline is before Baifeng Mountain hunt so, Comedy, a little bit humor in the lines, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, The man who succeeds in both Love and Career-LXC, Dark LXC, Dark LWJ, The Dark side mean "Fuck off Cultivation World!", The Exchange of Fate, LXC-centric, DoubleJade centric, The one who stands against the world-LXC; A/B/O, Alpha LXC, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Mpreg, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Scenting, Historical, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Slight Drama, Bad Parent YZY, Cultivation Empire, Alpha NHS, Older NHS, The flustered Alpha and the handsome Omega, Half Lime Half Plot, YLLZ era, YLLZ WWX, The Thirsty LXC, Martial Arts AU, Wuxia AU, General WWX, Emperor LXC, Qianyuan, Kunze, Zhongyong, Enemy to lover, Concubine WWX, BAMF WWX, Precognitive Dream, the Second elopement, Wen Remnants Live, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Intervention From the Outside World, Teleportation, Sunshot Campaign, Those Days When LXC Chased After YLLZ All Over the Central Plain)

~*~

16. itmf some wwx & jzx bonding similar to 'watch what we'll become' by glitteringmoonlight modern/canon/au it doesn't matter just give me that sweet sweet friendship/brotherly bonding

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 828k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

atlas in his sleepin’ by anatheme (E, 48k, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Reincarnation, Family Reunions, Dimension Travel, temporary transmigration, Transmigrator!LWJ, Yunmeng Shuangjie Reconciliation, jzx motherhenning wwx, First Time, Sharing Clothes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

~*~

17. itmf a fic where wangxian get horny about "ruining" a hole. You know, there's penetration, or a lot of penetration, and the body is different afterwards. Idc who bottoms, omegaverse, consent, whatever. But no underage please. Thanks!

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[schizoidcurly]

Best way to approach the topic of the Captain’s disability? Also what’s ur opinion on the “post-game” art of the captain?

hi!! thank you for this question.. please keep in mind while i am (higher support needs, unable to be independent) disabled myself and i frequent disabled spaces, i am NOT a burn survivor nor do i speak for people who are! i would love to hear input from anyone who is, and corrections! but here are my thoughts on these things :]

abled people can reblog and such but please do not add anything. please kindly correct me if i am wrong on anything here and i'll add it.

the best ways to approach the topic of the captain's disability

one thing i see many people with facial differences like burns and such say is to not refer to burns as a "facial disfigurement", if you must refer to it, i've seen it said that "facial difference" is much preferred opposed to disfigurement. while this opinion is just that, an opinion, tread lightly here and use what you think it appropriate, but alwaysalwaysalways stay away from referring to curly's body as "deformed". i recommend checking out face equality international and the pheonix society for burn survivors.

on that note, pleasepleaseplease do not use curly's appearance post-crash as shock value or refer to it as "body horror". if it's newly burnt curly, i believe tagging him as gore or injury would be accurate as he hasn't been administered any real medical aid aside from painkillers and still very much is injured, but not body horror, and do not use gore or injury trigger tags for a rehabilitated curly; he is no longer injured in that case. this is a person. not an eldritch horror, not a monster, a disabled person. listen to disabled people about this, especially burn survivors.

don't say that curly's disability is his "karma", punishment, consequence, etc, or use the common "theory" that he is a metaphor for anya's unborn child. curly is not a child. disability is not a punishment. curly is a vulnerable, disabled, adult man. treat him as such. ableism & disability is as much of a theme in mouthwashing as rape culture & abuse is. curly does not stop being a flawed human adult man because he is disabled.

and, please do not debate whether it would have been best to kill curly, or say one of jimmy's crimes was "keeping curly alive" in his burnt state. while curly's injuries are absolutely to some extent exaggerated, and injuries like that would be much different in real life, curly as he is presented in the media is alive, conscious, and aware. he is not actively dying, based on the fact he can be kept alive (albeit with significant pain) without much effort in an area without any actual medical aid besides what anya can do for him. these discussions easily segue into eugenics, especially if you are an abled person.

generally, just approach his disability with the fact in mind that he is still living, conscious, thinking, and a person. do not allow yourself to dehumanize him or infantilize him on the basis of his disability, or act as if curly is "dead". curly is still alive, he was not lost in the crash, he is just disabled now. in game he has proven that he is still very much aware, very much alive. do not ignore this.

ALSO. a fandom thing, but PLEASE. PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. DO NOT USE HIS DISABILITY/CONDITION FOR ""WHUMP"". PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. and please also just as much do not use them as a gag or joke or for the punchline of one.

my opinion on "post-game captain curly"/rehabilitated captain curly

i see absolutely no harm in it! real people are burnt and then treated and rehabilitated. so long as it's not a way to attempt to erase his disability, i see nothing wrong with it. a disability is not a death penalty, even extreme burns! burn survivors are still people who can live happy lives after their burns.

however, do your research when writing/drawing about rehabilitated curly! look into how to draw and write burn scars, facial differences, how healed burns may affect people later on, the treatments done for people with extreme burns like curly's, etc. especially look into info written by burn survivors (but please don't go around asking random burn survivors these things)! when drawing, reference real people, look up pictures and look at them! do lots of research, ask lots of (respectful) questions when it's appropriate.

some things to avoid: the mask trope, there isn't a real reason to cover up his burn scars, and especially not just to use it as a shocking moment later. avoid needlessly mentioning a recovered curly's disabilities and burns, or using it as a point of pity/sympathy.

some things i recommend you look at: face equality international's 'international media standard on disfigurement', cripplecharacter's tips on writing/drawing a character with facial differences/disfigurement, niki averton's tips for writing about burn survivors, saszor's guide to drawing burns, an interview with zaid who is a burn survivor by SBSK

[ohtobeleah]

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter One: [Happily Ever Afters Don’t Exist]

Summary: A certain naval aviator shows up on your front doorstep right on cue. Because when the nightmares are too hard to handle on their own? You and Jake find solace in one another’s presence.

Word Count: 2.5k

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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Sunday- August 13th 2023. Present Day 

We all remember the bedtime stories of our childhoods. The shoe that fits Cinderella, the frog that turns into a prince, Sleeping Beauty is awakened with a kiss. Once upon a time and then they lived happily ever after. 

Fairy tales—the stuff of dreams. The problem is, fairy tales don’t come true. It’s the other stories, the ones that begin with dark and stormy nights, and end in the unspeakable. It’s the nightmares that always seem to become reality. 

You shot up from your spot in your bed trying to regulate your breathing from yet another nightmare, the nightmares you already lived through that your mind, body and soul couldn’t let go of, the overwhelming fear had triggered yet another panic induced asthma attack. Your inhaler sat close by on your bedside table. 

You came to quickly realise after all that you’d been through that the person that invented the phrase ‘Happily Ever After’ Should have his ass kicked and kicked hard. Because ‘Happily Ever After’ Didn’t exist. 

Sleep didn't come easy anymore, especially at night. Since you’d been on mandated medical leave you did your best to sleep during the day and stay awake all night, just to keep the voices in your head silent. It did little to curve the nightmares though, the sounds of tortuous screams that would send you into a dizzying fit of terrors until you realised you were safe. That you were home and that you were in your own bed, not on some dirty cell floor a million miles away with no hope of ever seeing your loved ones again. 

A knock at your front door in the middle of the night would usually have your heart racing. People don't knock on peoples doors in the middle of the night, and if they do? Your mother always taught you not to answer unless you were expecting company. 

As you padded over to your front door with a warm cup of peppermint tea in your hand, you had to wonder what one it was this time that brought the wounded soul to your doorstep. You opened your front door to reveal the very person you had actually been expecting for all the wrong reasons. He stood with his shoulders slumped in his grey sweats and an old longhorns T-shirt that looked worse than he did. Sad emerald green eyes met yours as he ran a nervous hand through his sandy locks, hell, this never got any easier. 

Jake Seresin showing up on your doorstep at one in the morning had become a thing. On the nights he wasn't dragging his tail up your three porch steps, you were banging against his courtyard gate. Both as desperate for company as each other. Yet neither of you would admit you were struggling. But the unspoken was as loud as silence could ever be. 

You’d both witnessed and experienced the unthinkable, unspeakable acts of violence that should have killed you both. But yet here you were, making him peppermint tea at one in the morning, trying to hide the fact whenever you looked at him all you saw was the way his body bled and bruised. 

“What one was it this time?” You asked as you handed Jake the tea you'd made for him, having expected him any minute now. He still had bruises that littered his cheeks and eye socket. Doctors had reassured you that his broken jaw would heal in time, for someone with the gift of the gap not talking though was a difficult task. But being in an induced coma for the first week since being admitted helped the swelling a lot. He looked more like himself now. 

Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. The very embodiment of a human ken doll. He looked like the Jake you knew before the mission that nearly killed you both. Everyday that passed he looked less and less like the version of himself that would have said or done anything to keep you alive. That had done everything he could have. 

“The one where they made me hurt you.” Jake mumbled as he stepped past the threshold of your humble abode and accepted the cup of warm peppermint tea you had made for him. He appreciated the warm sensation, it grounded him. “I get that one alot, whenever I close my eyes–” Jake paused as he drank in the sight of you. You looked healthier now. Brighter. Your eyes weren't so full of fear and your lip wasn't as split anymore. “All I see is you and how I couldn’t save you.” 

You and Jake had shared all your darkest nightmares with one another, he was the only person who understood what you were going through, what you sounded like while your skin was cut and your bones were broken. He was the only one who understood when you told him your body didn’t feel like yours anymore. And you were the only one who understood what it was like to want to die just to feel peace. To escape hell. You’d seen the limits each other could tolerate, and you'd seen each other's breaking points. Neither of you could escape the burning guilt you held for each other. It was a bond that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. 

With all the love you held for each other you’d both agreed now just wasn’t the right time. A relationship seemed like the worst thing to jump head first into after experiencing hell on earth. But with that mutual understanding came a deep hesitation to believe any of it was ever real to begin with. 

“Well, you did.” You reminded Jake as his eyes wandered down to where your hand and wrist still remained in a cast. He could still remember the way you screamed out in utter agony when the hammer smashed your bones, how you looked when infection took over. “I’m here because of you.” He didn’t reply straight away as he took a sip of the warm peppermint tea you’d made for him. He watched silently as you closed your front door—making sure to lock it and switch off the patio light. It was the middle of the night after all. 

Jake Seresin was a wreck, you knew that much. The people who knew him better than most would often tell you he was a shell of his former cocky, egomaniacal self. They all missed that version of Jake—the one who could give anyone a headache just by his charm alone, but was present and aware. 

But the Jake you knew was just as scared and bruised as you. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, the mutual midnight visits were enough of an explanation, and you didn’t push. He didn’t push either. The two of you just existed, trying to navigate through the trauma of the situation the two of you found yourselves in. Marked confidential and sealed indefinitely. Plagued with the sounds of each other’s tortuous screams. 

“You were there because of me too.” Jake finally replied, his voice was soft and barely audible. “You were my responsibility.” He bowed his head in shame, regret had followed him everywhere since the two of you had gone down. “I failed you.” 

It was your turn to listen and take in the heaviness of Jake's admission. An admission you’d heard a hundred times before and would surely hear a thousand times more. It was Jake's truth, his version of reality. 

“You didn’t fail me, Seresin.” You sighed softly as you walked your way around to stand before him. Jake looked at you with so much guilt, so much anguish in his eyes. Those deep green emerald eyes. “Because we’re home, we’re safe, you’re standing here drinking my peppermint tea and I’m about to reach up and kiss you—“ You placed your hand on the back of Jake's neck, slowly, tentatively. “Because you didn’t fail me, you saved me.” Jake knew that was true to some extent, you were holding on for dear life when rescue came. Without them, without Jake begging you to stay, you probably wouldn’t have. 

“Please—“ Jake whispered as tears fell from his lash line. “Just one.” You did. It wasn’t hard touching Jake, or loving him or kissing him or doing anything that made you feel connected. If it were anyone else you’d struggle. But not with Hangman. 

It was the softest of kisses, the most fleeting of things, but you did what you said you were going to do and reached up to kiss Jake's lips. 

Jake raised his eyebrows in reaction to your softness but soon closed his eyes knowing he was safe and pulled you closer by the small of your waist with just one hand. He still held the peppermint tea in the other. Savouring every single moment, every fleeting touch you were willing to give him. 

“You didn’t fail me Jake, I’m standing right here, because you kept me going—you kept me alive.” You knew exactly what Jake needed to hear as he let his forehead rest against yours. You cupped his cheeks to catch the tears that had begun to fall down his slightly bruised cheeks. You caught Jake's tears with the pads of your thumbs, just like you’d done when he was covered in his own blood. 

“You gave me hope and we’re okay Jake, we’re okay.” All Jake did was nod with closed eyes. He needed your gentle touch to ground him, keep him from falling into the dark depths of the hole he was standing on the edge of. 

“We’re okay.” The same hole that you had teetered on the edge of. “We’re okay.” Jake repeated a few times as he kept his eyes closed. He was afraid that when he opened his eyes you’d be gone. “We’re okay.” He whispered just one more time before he opened his eyes, you were still there, his weapon’s system office, his responsibility, his one and only guiding light. “Thanks.” 

“Not a problem.” You pressed your lips together in a fine line before you stepped away. Heading towards the kitchen where you’d left your own cup of tea. “I’m glad you’re here actually.” You sheepishly admitted. “I was going to try and get some rest but couldn’t fall asleep alone.” Jake knew what you were asking of him—he’d asked you a fair few times himself. But again, it was all coded. 

“I’m pretty tired, could use an hour or two.” He replied with half a smile that only graced half his face. Jake followed you over to the hallway he knew led down to your bedroom. Completely lit so that not an ounce of darkness could shroud your recovery process. “I’ll stay.” 

“Thanks.” You looked up at Jake as he looked at you, both as broken as each other. He still saw the uncertainty in your eyes, the fear that your time had left you with. Jake could argue you had it worse than he did, but you’d say it wasn’t a competition. “I think I sleep easier with you here than when you’re not.” 

“If I wasn’t so haunted by your screams Hollywood, I’d be flattered.” Jake teased as he took a sip of his tea. The tea you’d made just for him in the mug you knew he liked. It was easy to joke about small details, it’s how you and Jake got by, but the sad reality was it was all true. There was a time where Jake Seresin would have taken that compliment and turned it into something more sexually explicit. But now? Even when the two of you did embark on showing one another what it was like to touch the stars and all Jake saw was you in that cell screaming for those men to stop. In his nightmares as he’d lay beside you he felt like one of them. 

Jake caught himself falling into a k-hole of thoughts as he took another sip of his tea to bring him back down to earth. “But yeah, I sleep better with you by my side too.” 

It was weird going from being so sure of every word Jake spoke in the time you were held together, to all these ‘Thinks’ and ‘Pretty Sures.’ But you knew the ‘I love yous’ shared and the admiration admitted were all just tactics to keep each other alive. At least on Jake’s behalf you assumed. For you? Every word of it was real. Every plea for Jake to keep his eyes open was real. Every cry of mercy for them to stop beating him was real. Every ‘take me’ every ‘I love you’ every ‘don’t you dare die on me, not now.’ Was real. Every ‘when we make it home, I’ll never let you go.’ Was real. 

“Good.” You yawned, exhausted from all the sleepless nights and half ass attempts during the day. “Because I’m exhausted.” 

“Feels like we’re on a train that’s going like two hundred miles an hour without any breaks.” Jake began walking with you towards your bedroom. A bedroom he’d become so familiar in he knew where you kept your socks and what corner you favoured for dirty laundry. “And as much as you wanna stop that train we can’t get off, for some fucking reason we just can’t get off.” He continued as you pushed your door open, still lit from almost every light you owned. “Wouldn’t it though—wouldn’t it just be so nice to step off onto the platform for a minute?” Jake asked as you took his tea and placed it up on the dresser beside yours. Coaxing him forward and towards your bed by his hand. 

“It would be nice.” You tried not to cry.” “It would be so nice.” You knew what Jake meant, what the platform was a metaphor for. You couldn’t say you hadn’t thought about it—the sweet release death would bring. “But I’m not quitting on you now Hangman.” You held back tears as you kissed Jake again, this time with more passion and fire in your intention and this time he kissed you back. 

The back of your knees hit the side of your bed and you were down, with Jake falling with you. It was the closest to love the pair of you would get. Relearning what gentle romance was. Relearning to understand that not every touch was rough. 

“So you don’t get to quit on me.” You reminded him sternly. It was just the trauma talking. You’d give anything to go back to the way things were before, when the two of you hardly spoke. When the pair of you bickered and argued and didn’t engage in pity sex out of an existential obligation to one another just to feel something besides hopelessness and pain. “Because we made it out, we got out and we survived—“ You cried into his mouth as tears of his own dripped off his cheeks down onto yours. “And we’ll survive whatever else is left to come, okay, you and me?” 

Jake didn’t give you an answer, but he nodded silently before he took your lips hostage again. His hands were gentle against you—afraid that he’d hurt healing wounds. But he could never. He could never hurt you as much as they did. 

“Just you and me Hollywood."

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Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989

[frankencanon]

커넥션 | Connection (2024) Whump List

Synopsis:

One day, Jang Jae Gyeong, a ten-year detective of Anhyeon's narcotics unit, becomes forcibly addicted to drugs by someone. Although he denies being a user and claims he's an officer who arrests those who do, his mind and body unknowingly deteriorate due to the drug, which is new and unknown to the police. Oh Yoon Jin is a reporter for the Anhyun Economic Daily. She met Jae Gyeong at Jeogang High School. Right after returning to work after one month, she witnesses a woman die in front of her from using drugs. Yoon Jin chases the drug case for a scoop and becomes entangled with Jae Gyeong again. Geumhyung Group's vice-chairman, Won Jong Soo, and Anhyun's prosecutor, Park Jun Seo, are two who could be involved in the case. Due to the drugs, an evil connection intertwined with 50 million dollars starts to form and corrodes their high school friendship. Who could the drug lord be to confront Jae Gyeong, who declares retribution at the end of the battle, and who will come out the victor?

Whumpee: Jang Jae Gyeong (played by Ji Sung)

No one else has a made a whumplist for Connection yet (that I've found anyway), so this is my attempt… Have mercy, this is my first time making a whumplist and it's possible I missed or forgot to mention some stuff.

[SPOILER WARNING] ⚠️

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※ The links are to gifsets on Tumblr and official YouTube videos by Kocowa!

※ Spoiler warning for the videos especially!

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01: kidnapped, drugged, amnesia, hurt, disoriented, collapsed, weak, legs give out (caught), fighting, knocked out, vomiting, upset, sweating, dizzy, head injury, panicked, confused, shaky hands, collapsed, hospitalized, etc (a LOT)

02: hiding in closet, manhandled (CCTV footage), grabbed by the shirt and shoved against a wall, grabbed by the shirt again, shoved, grabbed

03: dizzy, falls over, collapsed, sweating, helped to walk, fainted, unconscious, drug addiction reveal, drug addiction, repeatedly bodyslams door, ill, out of breath, weak, helped to walk, pale, dizzy, asked if ok, asks for medicine, collapses, drug addiction, faints

04: drug addiction, panics, hits head on door, confused, disoriented, amnesia, upset, flashbacks, tantrum, distressed, paranoid, flashbacks

05: slapped in face with shoe covers (?), distressed, screaming, flashbacks, crying, sobbing

06: dizzy, stumbling, ill, kicked, knocked down, held down/restrained, drugged (injection), fighting

07: discussion about addiction, collapsed on floor (flashback)

08: out of breath, asks for help getting medication/diet pills

09: out of breath, has to take more diet pills to bide/manage addiction

10: dizzy, leaning on wall, out of breath, flashbacks to kidnapping

11: takes more diet pills, withdrawal, dizziness/lightheadedness, falls to the floor at bottom of stairs, falls to knees, more withdrawal, panting, almost takes drugs, crying?? red/watery eyes, tired? faint? takes more diet pills, weak, collapses punching someone, gets punched and knocked to the floor, can't get up, grabbed by the lapel and shook

12: weak (can't open water bottle), withdrawal, catatonic, wheezing, upset, screams, watery eyes, fighting, screaming

13: kicked several times, minor fender bender, withdrawal, shaky hands, arrested for drugs, upset, crying

14: discussion of addiction, collapsed and drugged (CCTV), upset, manhandled/dragged (CCTV), crying

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Edit: I made a whump sideblog! Link here:

[paingoes]

Destroyer

Medical Conference

hi guys um. i cant stop writing destroyer. i swear ill figure out a system to organize these “bonus” chapters soon i promise i promise

delta is eighteen in this but the chapter delves into abuse he experienced when he was a child so cw for that

(Content: living weapon whumpee, lab whump, medical whump, put on display, dehumanization, conditioning, noncon drugging, needles, non-consensual/nonsexual nudity, noncon touching, physical abuse, emotional whump, angst, child abuse, child death mention, parental whump?)

~

“I forgot, sir,” Delta tried weakly. He knew as soon as he said it that he should’ve just kept quiet.

“No, you didn’t. You’re going to lie about it as well?” Dr.Martino shut down the attempt, focusing his attention back to the device.

Delta laid down unmoving against the steel table as the scanner searched over him. It gave him mild electric shocks each time it passed. Of course, he hadn’t been looking forward to the diagnostic tests. But he hadn’t been trying to get out of it entirely. That wouldn’t have worked. He only wanted more time to psych himself up for it. Too long, apparently. He’d had to be collected for it. It’d been a bad note to start on.

The rest of the exam went on in silence, without anymore mention of his avoidance. As Delta redressed, he thought he might’ve been off the hook for it. Dr.Martino was fumbling though his desk drawers like he’d already left. 

He produced two unopened packs of pencils from inside the desk. Delta deflated a little bit. 

Delta took the pencils and arranged them in two rows along the floor, lined up flush against one another. Gingerly, he kneeled down on top of them.

“Hands behind your back,” the doctor said, leaning back in his chair.

Already there. He knew the drill. He lowered his head, silently counting. No longer than twenty minutes, usually. No fewer than ten.

When he looked up again, Martino was leaning back against the table, flipping through a folder.

“The ISCEM conference is coming up in a month,” he said offhandedly, as if this would mean something to him.

“Okay?” Delta answered, more in confusion than anything else. He hadn’t meant for it to be disrespectful. 

Nevertheless, Dr.Martino’s shoe pressed down against his calf, driving the pencils further into his skin. 

“Yes, sir,” he quickly corrected himself. The pressure disappeared. The pain stayed where it was.

“You were probably too young to remember the last one, weren’t you?” Dr.Martino sighed.

“Yes, sir.” He didn’t really think about it. He was pretty distracted by the numbness traveling down his legs.

“Well, put it on your calendar. Don’t want you forgetting again.”

“Yes, sir.” 

He didn’t have a calendar.

~

“Mention the steady-state thing we discussed. I have files on it, I - is it too late to make a copy? I will. And if you could just please pass along a message for me, I would be ever so grateful,” Simon went on, fumbling through his own briefcase, trying to give what he could. Dr.Martino took the reports from him, flipping them around to see the equations he’d scribbled onto the back.

“You’re not coming? Sir?” Delta added the “sir” on as an afterthought, conscious of the doctor’s presence. Simon himself rarely demanded such formalities.

“Don’t interrupt,” Dr.Martino snapped, more tense than usual. But Simon obliged him, stepping a little closer.

“Not my scene.” Simon patted his head. It was soft, but Delta reflexively flinched away from any hands that drew too near to his face. 

Something on the desk beeped. The transit had rafted up. 

Delta held his wrists up easily as Martino presented the cuffs. They were psychic tech, meant to restrict his powers more than the collar already did. Presumably some kind of safety measure. He felt his world going flat as they clicked into place, all his spatial awareness reduced to a single field of view. The effect was extremely disorienting. He nearly fell over getting off of the table.

~

He’d mostly evened out by the time they’d gotten to the hotel. He sat idly against the chair he’d been placed in, watching the doctor unpack. Everything in the room was the same shade of beige. 

It seemed like they should’ve been able to go. Martino abruptly produce a vial from the bag. Delta recognized it as a sedative. He inserted the syringe into it, drawing it back up.

“I’ll behave, sir,” Delta offered. He eyed the needle warily; he’d usually have been given something in the way of warning.

Martino shook his head. He took a firm grip of Delta’s arm.

“Believe me, this is for your own good.”

Delta tensed his arm up, holding still as the needle entered him. Something cold shot into his veins. It took a long time for the chamber to empty. 

~

It hit him before they even reached the elevator. He clung to Martino’s arm, needing something to brace himself against, however briefly. Martino assured him he wouldn’t have to stand for long. They moved backstage at the panel. Delta nearly collapsed into the fold-up chair.

The cuffs were briefly removed as he was given the medical gown to wear. His hands moved slower than he would’ve liked, but he was able to put it on. It tied along the front, leaving much of his chest exposed.

Dr.Martino took a minute to make sure it was fitted correctly. He cursed, noticing for the first time the visible boot print against the side of Delta’s ribs. 

“Great. They’re going to think I beat you.”

You do beat me, Delta thought. Not as much as he used to. Not as much as Paris. But Martino still hit him. 

The doctor felt over the bruise with his hand, reigniting the pain. Delta winced. It was recent — still tender. The sedative helped a bit. All his thoughts were coming to him in a haze.

There was nothing that could be done to cover it, so apparently they were just going to ignore it. The cuffs came back on around his wrists. He led Delta out onto the platform regardless, sitting him up against the stool. It was had a back to it, luckily. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay upright without it. He’d been trained enough not to slouch or to look so outwardly high, but it was definitely a struggle to maintain neutrality. He kept his head down. It was the safest, the easiest to maintain for a long period. People gradually filed in. Though he was used to being put on display, the sterility and lack of decorum in this new space made the whole thing feel all the more jarring. It all felt far away, though.

His eyes closed without meaning to. When he tuned back in, Dr.Martino was droning on. He recognized some of the words. He would’ve recognized more if he wasn’t drugged. It was a talk about internal power generation. Conduits. There was a hand on his shoulder. Delta stood up from the chair. The gown was pulled down a bit from his shoulders.

Martino pressed the multimeter to his collarbones, watching the number climb until it broke. He pulled it away before it could burn up completely. He pressed a thin disk up against Delta’s chest, where it held there. It was some kind of controller. A thin arc of electricity emerged from it without any conscious intention on his part. More appeared, each of them branching away from his body like a plasma ball. The effect was immediate; that familiar fear crept into the eyes of the audience. 

It cut all at once. The disk was removed. Delta sat back down on the chair, pulling the gown back up over himself. 

The lights darkened. Behind him, a clip show began to play. He didn’t need to look back. He’d seen it plenty of times. Different explosions, annihilations, destructions. All his own work. He could recount each of them to the second. It played for a long time.

For some reason, they clapped when it was over.

~

“Sorry — do you mind if I look at it?” 

Delta opened his eyes again, sensing the it in question. He tensed up. 

He hated being touched. The moderator stripped the gown back again. He felt the electric pulse still going about Delta’s clavicle. His hands traveled around the collar. 

“I’m biomedical by trade,” the man explained, tapping at the gold, “This is custom, yes? When was it made?”

“The model’s about five years old. It gets updated about once a year.”

“Incredible. I see some scarring, though.”

Delta shivered as the fingers traced the burn scars by his neck, a bit on his trapezius. They were in the shape of a Lichtenberg figure.

“That seems non-optimal?”

“Those actually predate the collar. They’re a natural result of it overextending itself during an exercise. The restrictor works as a stopgap to prevent that kind of burnout.”

Though he’d expected it, it still jarred Delta just how easily Martino slipped back into calling him it.

Another scientist approached. She slid up to Martino, shaking his hand eagerly.

“Oh, darling.” He embraced her. She grinned, readjusting her jacket as they pulled away.

“Danny, it’s been ages. How are the girls?” Her nails clicked together.

Danny. The girls. Martino actually had a family. Not that he ever saw them. He had daughters. They’d been kids, the one and only time Delta had ever met them. They had to be in their twenties by now. 

“Brats, the lot of them. They’re smart, though. Smarter than I was at their age.”

“Well, that’s not saying much.”

Delta was not surprised when her hands traveled onto him. He barely flinched this time. But he hadn’t expected her to speak to him.

“Oh, and look at you. You’re all grown up now, huh?” 

She gripped his chin in between her fingers, studying his face. The touch wasn’t harsh, nor was it gentle.

“You probably don’t remember me.”

That was correct. Her face was vaguely familiar, but he could find no memories to attach to it.

“He’s a bit distant at the moment. You’ll have to forgive him,” Martino answered for him.

She released her grip, turning her attention back to the doctor. Even in his current state, it didn’t take him long to put it together. She’d been one of the teachers at the Institute. He wondered how many of them were wandering around out there now. Most of them. Dr.Martino had been the only one to retain some semblance of his position. All the other administrators had been cast away just the same as the students.

He had forgotten nearly every one of their names.

~

Martino packed up the last of the day’s display materials, arranging all of it back into the suitcase. It’d been a success, as far as these things go. He’d revealed all he could without breaching the terms of his contract. All the real science was under a strict NDA. It was nice to catch up with some colleagues, though. It was healthy to be off of a spaceship every once in a while.

He tugged Delta’s sleeve, pulling him up from the plastic chair. He took a minute to undo the cuffs; he’d thought they were an excessive measure to begin with and they had prevented any real show of power. Delta rubbed idly at the marks they had left there.

They made their way back up to the hotel room. The drug had not yet worn off; Delta still stumbled a bit when he walked. He’d redressed himself in a thick hoodie, trying to keep out the chill from the overactive AC or perhaps just trying to hide. 

The door opened. Martino dropped his suitcase onto the bed. Presumably out of habit, Delta lowered himself to the floor, kneeling there. Waiting for instructions, as if he could have followed them. Martino scoffed. 

“You can sit on the bed. I booked a double room for a reason.”

He watched the whole minute it took for his words to sink in. The way it took even longer for Delta to actually rise, blearily climbing up onto the mattress. His hands gripped searchingly across the blanket, pulling up the edges like he needed something to hold onto.

Martino ignored him. He moved to the far side of the room and opened the door to the balcony. The city skyline was clearly visible just down the road. The lights from it shone brighter than the stars from space. Martino produced one of the foreign cigarettes from its packet. The ember burned in the dark night. It was all quiet.

“What was I like when I was little?”

He turned to look at Delta. The kid was drugged out of his mind. He might’ve given him too much.

Dr.Martino took a long drag. He rarely smoked, so used to the endless sterility that he would not so much as dirty the air. But tonight was a rare night.

“What were you like?” He ashed the cigarette, turning back to look at the night skyline. “I don’t remember.”

Delta looked down, disappointed. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself. Martino sighed, losing the battle.

“…You were quiet. Same as you are now. You mostly kept to yourself.”

He gave no visible reaction.

“You didn’t get along so well with the other kids,” Martino admitted, some disdain entering his voice. 

Delta looked up. His expression was totally blank.

“Why do you hate me?” he asked.

It was manipulative, and self-pitying in a way that did not flatter him. Martino put the cigarette out. He stepped back into the room.

Delta shrank back a bit. The doctor looked him over. His eyes had dimmed some, no doubt due to the sedative. His hands were unbloodied. Just looking at him, no one would have know what he’d done. Martino remembered the sound of bones snapping and the bodies out in the yard. He remembered the expression Delta had worn the first time he’d killed — as blank and unfeeling as the one he wore now. He did hate him, he supposed. He’d never been his favorite. All his favorites had been buried a long time ago.

He didn’t say that. He remembered his lines — and he cursed himself for ever diverging from them, even for a second. He would correct it now.

“There is no you.”

Delta opened his mouth as if to object, then thought better of it. Good.

“No more talking tonight,” Martino said.

Delta nodded, laying down onto the mattress. He fell asleep with all the lights on.

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @pigeonwhumps

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives Part 20: I Can’t Kill You

The Arc 2 finale! Woooo!!!

~2750 words

CW: vampire whump, discussion of suicide, medical setting, needles, IV

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

~~~

Matthew's coworkers were stretching their breaks long, talking to each other in low voices. It started at lunchtime. Matthew noticed, but didn’t care; he figured it was some new cruelty the humans were politically inflicting on each other that meant nothing to him. He had better things to think about. Like Simon.

Simon had withdrawn from the world since telling Matthew about Bowers. He no longer wanted to go out, and he gave up looking for a new job. But he was still glued to Matthew the entire time they were home together, so by the vampire’s measure things were going well. Simon was less distracted this way. He had more energy for Matthew.

Maybe Matthew missed it, just a little bit. The way Simon’s face would light up when they went somewhere new. How delighted he’d be when something genuinely piqued Matthew’s interest too. They way he’d be so grateful that Matthew came with him in the first place - Simon still had trouble some days leaving the apartment by himself, after all.

No matter. Simon was hopelessly devoted to Matthew, and that was all the vampire needed.

Right?

Matthew felt something a little uncomfortable stirring in his gut, and it followed him on his way home. Maybe he should take Simon out. Give him a reason to spruce up a little, and to smile. Seeing him smile was almost as good as seeing him cry - maybe it was time for a change of pace.

When he arrived home he was perplexed to see Simon crouched in front of their undersized TV, watching some cable news show.

“Matthew, did you hear?” Simon turned to look at him, his wide eyes and hollow cheeks reflecting the blue of the screen.

“Hear what?” Matthew’s hand hovered at the key rack, still holding his keys. Something in Simon’s voice stilled him. Something was different.

“There’s…” Simon swallowed. “There’s a cure, Matthew. For vampires.”

~~~

They spent the day watching the news. It talked about the VIU’s research, read wordy excerpts from press releases, reworded and re-reworded them, speculated, celebrated, fearmongered. How was this cure arrived at? Would vampires become a thing of the past? Would this cause vampires to lash out? Would this lead people to believe being turned was no big deal now?

Simon’s eyes flicked back and forth between the television and Matthew, nervous and hopeful and terrified. Matthew ignored him and remained impassive, stone-faced, refusing to show any sign that his world was being turned upside down.

He called out sick from work for the week, and they kept watching.

Next came the announcement that captured vampires were being cured, and were successfully returning to their human selves. The VIU kept them in custody for their own safety, of course.

Eventually they had to admit to the suicides.

Over half of the ex-vampires couldn’t reckon with the horrors they had committed while turned, and attempted to take their own lives. The VIU quickly announced plans for massive rehabilitation systems and facilities, to ensure that the cured were not a threat to themselves or others, and would be able to reintegrate back into society - someday. How long this rehabilitation process would take was unclear.

The first interview with an ex-vampire was aired worldwide. She wept with shame.

Simon and Matthew barely spoke to each other for five days. They lived in a nest of blankets and takeout containers on the couch, eyes glued to the TV, drinking in every drop of information. Single injection. Could be weaponized. Number of active vampires dropping. Manufacturing rights granted to the EU. Crates shipped to the third world.

Then: Walk-in clinics opened in major cities. Vampires protected from arrest if they submit themselves to treatment and rehabilitation.

Simon’s eyes shone.

~~~

Simon waited another day. Just to see what Matthew would do. He couldn’t quite read Matthew’s reaction to the whole situation. While on the one hand, he was sitting right alongside Simon, absorbing every ounce of the apprehension, the speculation, the joy; on the other hand, he remained emotionless. Silent. He hadn’t even fed from or fucked Simon the whole week. He was utterly unreadable.

Simon waited, gathering his courage. He finally muted the TV during an ad break - even the most important development of the last half-century couldn’t escape monetization, after all.

“Matthew,” he started, his voice fried from disuse, “You know I would never force you to do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

Matthew glanced at him from where he slouched amongst the blankets and throw pillows, and skipped pointing out the fact that Simon was incapable of forcing him to do anything.

“Right.”

“I would just like you to… think about taking the cure.”

“What for.” Matthew didn’t sound argumentative, or curious, just… neutral.

“Well,” Simon sat up straighter, clearly about to launch into some prepared points, “I know how much you like convenience. Our lives aren’t very convenient right now. We live with a lot of risk. You could be captured. We could be discovered, and forced to move, you’d have to find a new job. And the only jobs that don’t ask questions are pretty shit, which means we can only afford this tiny place - it’s nothing like your old apartment, right? If you were human again, you wouldn’t have to worry about any of that, we wouldn’t have to live in hiding, you could have a real job, maybe even work for the VIU again, and have a nice place to live, go out in the sun…”

“Sounds like most ex-vampires are pretty miserable,” Matthew observed, watching animated cereal dance across the television with glazed eyes.

“But that’s because they’ve done terrible things!” Simon said, getting a little excited, “And you haven’t, you’ve never hurt anyone except other vampires, I kept you from having to hurt or kill any humans.”

“That’s true.”

“Just think about it - your life was pretty good as a human, and I think you could get most, or maybe all of it back! But if you stay a vampire… All sorts of things could go wrong, like I said. And then there’s me, I mean… What if someone takes me away from you? Or what if you accidentally kill me? You’d have to find a new blood source, you’d have to hurt innocent people, and then you would be miserable if you were captured and forcefully cured.”

Matthew’s hands had balled into fists while Simon talked.

“You think I could kill you?” he asked quietly, still staring at the TV. 

“Not on purpose!” Simon assured him, “Never on purpose. But I know you’ve seen it happen on the job. And we had that… close call.”

The news was back. Matthew plucked the remote out of Simon’s hand.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, and turned the volume back up.

~~~

“Simon, wake up.”

Simon sucked in a breath, coming out of his slumber to an unusual silence. The television wasn’t on. He emerged from his blanket cocoon on the couch, and saw Matthew standing over him. The sky outside the window was dark, and Matthew was dressed to go out.

“What -”

“Get your coat and boots on, we’re going out.”

Simon obeyed the order, scrambling to his feet and rushing to put on his winter things.

“Where are we going?” he asked, hoping against hope.

Matthew stared at him evenly.

“The clinic.”

~~~

The clinic would have been an unassuming building if it weren’t for the armed police officers outside. Two flanked the door, and one sat at a folding table to the side with a few boxes on it. They watched Matthew and Simon approach, crossing the slush-covered street, hand-in-hand. The officer at the table stood and waved them over.

“Here for the cure?” he asked.

“I am,” Matthew stated, “He’s human.”

“We’ll need to verify that. Take off your gloves and hold out a finger.”

Simon and Matthew complied as the officer took two testing kits out of a box. He pricked their fingers and pressed drops of blood onto respective testing strips. Once he had a clear positive and negative, he pulled two brightly-colored tags on lanyards out of another box, one red and one blue, and handed them to Matthew and Simon respectively.

“Put these on and don’t take them off,” he warned. “You can go in now.” He grabbed the mic on his shoulder and spoke into it. “One vampire and a human companion, entering now.”

Matthew and Simon put on the tags and entered the building, passing between the officers on guard.

“No turning back now,” Simon said nervously, taking Matthew’s hand and squeezing it. The vampire rolled his eyes. He could take those guys.

Inside, they found themselves in a waiting room with a reception desk. Behind the desk sat a round-faced woman in pink scrubs. Another armed police officer watched them from the opposite corner. There was a door to the left, and one behind the desk as well.

“Hello!” The woman was remarkably warm for someone speaking to a vampire at four AM. “I just need you two to fill out some forms and take a seat, we’ll be ready for you in just a minute.” She set two pens and two clipboards full of forms on the reception desk.

Simon lifted his blue tag.

“I’m not…”

“There’s a form for you too, hun,” she interrupted him.

They picked up the clipboards, Simon with some hesitation, and took a seat. Neither of them spoke as they filled out their information. Simon huffed a little and made long strikes down the ‘no’ column on later pages. Matthew’s form was significantly shorter.

When Simon returned the forms to the woman she thanked him and disappeared through the door behind desk. She returned with a different clipboard just as he was sitting back down, calling them over.

“Simon, Matthew, we’re ready for you now. Follow me.”

They followed her through the door to the left, and it led to a hallway lined with numbered doors. The police officer fell in step behind them.

“I’m Tammy, and that’s Officer Thomas,” the woman introduced herself as they walked, “And no one is going to separate you two, alright? You stay together the whole time.”

Simon smiled up at Matthew, relieved. Matthew glanced at him, but his impassiveness endured.

“You’re right here, in room number five.” Tammy opened a door for them. They stepped into what looked like a large but typical examination room with a sink and cabinets in one corner, except instead of an examination table there was a full hospital bed flanked by two chairs and an IV stand.

“Take a seat wherever you like,” Tammy said, “I just need to ask some questions that you already answered on the forms - I know it’s repetitive, but it is what it is, we’ll get through it together, alright?” Her good attitude was infectious - to Simon, anyway. He and Matthew sat in each of the chairs. The officer squared his shoulders by the door.

“Matthew - you understand that you must submit to both treatment here and at a rehabilitation facility in order to not be taken into custody by the VIU?” Tammy read from her clipboard.

Matthew nodded.

“I understand.”

“Do you understand the risks to your mental health once the cure takes effect, that you may experience anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, PTSD, et cetera?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Simon,” She turned her gaze on him, “Are you willing to talk to me alone in another room?”

Simon shook his head quickly.

“No thank you.”

“Alright.” She made a final mark on the clipboard and set it down before pulling a hospital gown patterned with sunflowers out of a cabinet drawer.

“Matthew, you can change into this and lie down on the bed, and Dr. Rhodes will be with you shortly. Don’t forget to put your lanyard back on.” She set the gown on the end of the bed. “Officer Thomas will be right outside if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Simon couldn’t help but smile at her, “Thank you so much.”

She smiled back, betraying nothing. A true professional.

“You’re welcome, hun.” She pulled the curtain around the door and left.

Matthew stripped quickly, piling his winter coat and clothes onto the chair. Simon bounced in his seat, unable to contain his excitement. But he stilled when Matthew laid down on the bed, frowning slightly at the ceiling and fiddling with his red tag.

“Hey…” he scooted the chair closer, “Are you really okay with this?”

Matthew didn't look at him.

“Can I see your hand?” he asked.

“Mhm.” Simon unquestioningly held out his left hand, and Matthew took it and pressed Simon’s palm to his lips. Inhaled deeply. Then he finally looked at Simon. His eyes were dark and determined.

“One last taste?” he proposed.

Simon nodded without hesitation.

“Of course.”

Matthew tilted Simon’s hand and made a single, tiny pinprick with one fang on Simon’s palm. Then he pressed his lips back to it, swirling his tongue around the puncture. Simon watched him, in awe of his restraint. It struck that Matthew was dying, again, in a way; complicated emotions flooded his gut and he had to blink, hard. This vampire had protected him. Scared him. Taken care of him. Hurt him. Made him feel loved. Almost killed him.

“I’ll miss you,” he whispered.

Matthew lifted Simon’s hand from his mouth and curled it closed around the cut. He pushed it back towards Simon, who took it and held it to his chest like a precious gift.

“Thank you,” Matthew whispered back.

They were both startled by a knock on the door.

“C-come in!” Simon stammered, hiding his hand in his coat pocket.

They heard the door open and a young man in a white doctor’s coat stepped around the curtain, followed by Officer Thomas.

“I’m Dr Rhodes,” the new man introduced himself, shaking each of their hands in turn - Simon thanked God Matthew had just bit his left hand, not his right. “I’ll be overseeing your treatment here, Matthew.”

Matthew nodded, and the doctor continued.

“The cure can be painful, so we’ll be giving you a general anesthesia first, then the cure injection. You should wake up after four hours as…” he spread his hands, “A human! There will be some temporary effects from the cure, such as nausea, muscle aches, and fatigue, but they should fade within a couple days, and we’ll give you meds for the nausea. There will also be some lasting effects from the vampirism. Your teeth will remain as they are, unless you choose to file them down - we have a list of practices that are offering that if you’re interested. You may suffer from anemia, and sensitivity to sunlight. And it varies from person to person but we’ve been seeing some lingering… attachment to those you may have preybonded with. Any questions?”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Matthew said flatly.

“Sounds good to me!” Dr Rhodes forced out a nervous laugh. There was a knock on the door and he jumped a little.

“Oh, right on time!”

Tammy entered, wheeling a small cart with an IV bag and a capped syringe on it. She and the doctor both donned gloves, and Dr Rhodes approached Matthew slowly with the IV.

“I’m going to start this now, and it will knock you out,” he said, hanging it on the stand, “I need you to stay calm and take deep breaths.”

Matthew took a controlled breath, but suddenly twisted his head to the side.

“Simon-!” He reached out.

Simon grabbed his hand and clutched it, the hot blood on his palm pressing against Matthew’s skin. They locked eyes.

“It’s okay,” Simon soothed, “It’s going to be okay.” He found tears welling up in his eyes. “Just take deep breaths Matthew, it’ll be over soon.”

Matthew kept his eyes trained on Simon as the doctor inserted the IV and started it, scanning every inch of his human’s scared, hopeful face. His jaw flexed and clenched and he squeezed Simon’s hand so hard that the human gasped.

“I love you,” Matthew breathed.

“I love you,” Simon’s voice cracked as he put every ounce of feeling into his words.

Matthew stared at him until he couldn’t, until the darkness overtook his vision and his jaw went slack. Even then he clung to Simon’s hand like a lifeline, needing to hold onto him just a little longer, just a little longer.

Just a little longer.

Just a little longer.

~~~

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump Day 18

@nancyheart11 you asked me for a Twilight Whump for this one, so I did my best! He wasn't talking, but it's a little tastier with the spice of another perspective >:)

I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Gen

Wordcount:

Summary: They talked about wandering off alone, but that doesn't exactly stop certain people (AKA Twilight) from not doing it again. Maybe Warriors is taking it too personally, but Mask's pup is giving him a headache. He just wants all his little brothers safe in one place, is that too much to ask?

(Note: I have not proof written this. My apologies, but half my keys aren't working, so typos are probably there.)

-

  They do not run off alone, they just don’t! It’s not so much a rule as something that everyone understands, so why in Hylia’s name is it still so hard for the others to actually do? Warriors resists the urge to hiss at himself; he is not Mask or Wild, he is not a feral little creature that can’t use his words, but by Hylia’s Wings does he wish he could get away with it sometimes! 

They’d talked about this! Not at length, and yes, his opinions had been very quickly dismissed in favor of discussing the ability of their enemy to shapeshift, but he’d expressed his disapproval with running off alone in the middle of a battle! 

But who really listens to him anyway? 

No, the captain stops in his tracks for a moment to shake off that thought, that’s not fair. Most of the other heroes listen. For Wind it’s second nature, and Time too, most days, listens without thinking about it. Even as an adult, the other respects his experience in leadership and knowledge of fighting and working with others. Four, even for his faults when it comes to actually working with and not simply around other people, still hears him out when he speaks. Sky and Hyrule both respect him for his title of knight and the work he’d put in to earn it, and even Legend, who despises soldiers, will respect his decisions and follow the plans he’s set. Yes, there's some disconnect, which is to be expected when working with a new team of people that aren’t accustomed to each other just yet, but they’re trying. Most of them are trying. 

Twilight and Wild are their own story. 

The captain’s teeth saw against each other as he ducks through the underbrush, following the faint trail left by big paws and the even bigger tracks of a moblin. How can a person be so determined to keep others in line and behaving, to keep others in the group safe and obeying the rules, and yet they themselves trod all over them? 

Granted, he is also currently separate from the group, wandering off alone, but he’s not the only one and everyone else knows what he’s doing. He’s tracking Twilight while the rest collect themselves and make camp. Wild had offered to do it, but after the last time, he just can’t trust the kid to actually come back; Wild’s proved where his loyalties lie, and it’s with the rancher, not their group. When asked to make the choice, they all know what it would be. 

He told the champion to stay. 

He doesn't know if he’ll be listened to, since that’s also the other point of struggle here, but he’s done all he can. He’s a good tracker, used to picking up the slightest sign of enemy activity, and his reasoning of being their current medic and thus the best choice in the case Twilight had gotten injured in some way, seems to be reason enough for most of the rest. There’s offers of course, to have someone go with him as backup, but looking over the tired men and boys in camp, he turns them all down. They need the rest, and time to recover from their own injuries and exhaustion. As a soldier, he’s been trained to push his limits, his exhaustion, his pain, his physical abilities, and ignore all barriers until his assignment is completed. The others may be heroes, ones who’ve faced odds that soldiers could never imagine, but they’re not likely to have experienced that sort of pressure and he wouldn’t want them to. 

They need their rest. He can get his once his duty is done. 

Now if only Twilight wouldn’t make it so hard by having wandered off to Nayru knows where! 

A hand drags through his hair, disrupting it, but it doesn’t matter. Yes, there’s a small voice that hisses to fix it, one that sounds a bit like Proxi, but these heroes care even less for how he looks on any given day than for what he says.  

Still being unfair, Link. They aren’t all bad. They’re good kids. 

Sure, they’d probably all take offence at being called kids but that’s what they are! The youngest are very young and even Time, their eldest, still looks to him through force of habit for guidance and aid. At most, he’d say the oldest most of them could be is twenty, early twenties for the rancher and skyloftian, but that’s still young enough to still be tripping over themselves in an effort to understand adulthood. They are, in his mind, still kids, and they’re mostly good ones, so he really can’t go lumping them all together as not giving a darn when they very much do. Not about his looks, thank Hylia, but about what he has to say? Most definitely. 

Again, it’s just Time’s pups who don’t. 

Goddesses, they take after their old man to an extreme level! It feels like just yesterday he was chasing down the little scamp, explaining the importance of comradery, of trust, of teamwork. Just yesterday, he was tilting brilliant blue eyes up to meet tired ones and asking, nearly begging, for the kid to please just give his way a chance. 

He sort of doubts such methods will work on his kid’s much older pup though.  

Twilight and Wild are similar in that they are stubborn, but they’re also much older than Mask had been, and neither is desperate for the stability the young boy had sought. They have Tie and each otehr, their own little bubble, separate from the rest of the heroes, and while both have an obvious respect for his skill, that’s about where their respect for him ends. They don’t look up to him, don’t admire him, don’t see him as anything more than another hero in their group, which is nice as far as not needing to babysit them goes. He’s glad that they don’t need him to keep an eye on them, that they’re stable enough mentally and in their perception of themselves that they don’t need someone else to support them, and if they do, they’ve already found that in each other. Still, having even the smallest of ways to get through to either of them would be nice. 

He’d thought that experience with the army would help connect him with the champion, that maybe a bond with Time could be something he could connect with the rancher about, but so far, no dice. 

His feet skid slightly on some leaves, bringing his attention back to the task at hand. Right, he needs to find Twilight. He can worry about driving home the idea of not running off alone when he’s sure the other is still alive. Granted, they didn’t see the black lizalfoes, or anything they think might have been another form of the beast, in this last battle, but it doesn’t take the most powerful of monsters to lay a hero low, especially if they don’t have anyone to watch their backs. 

The paw prints change to boot prints with the same seamlessness as they’d become paws at the beginning of the trail, and blood, crimson not black, spatters on the ground in an arc that indicates a swinging blade right where the moblin’s feet shift into a spin to face its pursuer. The trail of blood falls to the left of the trail, which means it could be delt by the left-handed hero or by the opposing monster, but considering the sudden turn, his money is on the rancher being the injured party here. 

By habit, his hand falls to his bag, assuring himself he’s got his med kit close at hand. 

By the three, these boys could save themselves so much pain if they just covered each others’ asses! Next time they get to the ranch or any place where they can stop for a little, he’s asking Time to help him arrange a training session for these kids. Maybe with their unofficial leader’s support, he can even get the two pups in on the session. As is, he’s sure Wind and four will be willing, and Sky will most definitely be his most valuable asset in teaching them. Good grief, whatever the Knights Academy on Skyloft is teaching, they're doing a great job, because that boy melds seamlessly in with whomever is closest to him!  

That may or may not be why he keeps close to the skyloftian, but who can blame him for wanting the assurance of having someone to watch his back when he’s so busy trying to keep an eye on all the others all the time? 

Twilight could have used the same, and blood specks along the trail as he goes. The steps become distorted, shuffling over each other in what’s clearly a break from the chase to fight. Here though, seven or eight paces from the initial blood spatter, more footprints join the mix. A bokoblin- no, two of them. The rancher’s steps disappear for a short moment, but with some looking around he finds them again. A flip or a throw landed him behind his foe, but he’s pushed back, heels dragging as they shuffle backwards into the woods as the enemy presses forwards against him. 

More tracks join the mix; an ambush. 

He grits his teeth, pushing forwards, ignoring, for the most part, the trail of the monsters in favor of following boot prints that press heavily to the dirt at the heel and toe, running, now pursued rather than the pursuer. The rancher will have known to try and limit the area of approach from his foes by darting into the trees. At best, he’d have circled around to pick them off from behind, but the prints don’t indicate as much. The speed of the different monster types will change have changed the tides of the fight though, with the bokoblins moving faster, prints fading out entirely as they likely fell and faded to miasma, leaving behind a moblin trail that continues, joined by more of its kind. He’d estimate at least three, maybe five of the creatures.  

Not great odds for one already injured rancher. 

He picks up his own pace. There’s no sounds of battle ahead or anywhere close by, not that he can hear. Granted, cannon fire in the war has definitely damaged his hearing enough that he could just be missing it, but he chooses to believe that there’s nothing, if only in the hope that Twilight will somehow be headed back along the trail towards him already, instead of being even further out, still in the middle of a fight. 

He doesn’t stumble across the rancher walking along the path though. No, he follows the fight, the footprints, trailing through the trees until there’s nowhere else to go. A wall of earth, steep enough to be a struggle to climb for anyone currently being chased, rises up and the footprints spin about to face those following after. He doesn’t keep track after that though, because the moment he sees fur and brass armor that catches the fading light, he knows his search is done. 

“There you are, rancher.” 

The urge to steal Time’s thunder and call the other man a pup- not with the affection of the now older man but with all the ire of its original connotation among his own people, is strong, but he resists. That would be considered out of line without context, and he doubts Twilight even knows the source of the nickname he so values from his mentor. 

Knowing it means a young person who’s annoying but not yet unbearable, yet, would probably kill some of that magic. 

So, he bites his tongue, keeps his impulses to himself, and moves to the side of the younger man, who’s currently slumped against a tree, breath strained but still there as dark eyes, a shade or so darker than Time’s own, flutter slightly with an effort to stay open. 

“Cap’n?” 

Darker or not, there’s definitely a lot of Time- of Mask, in the rancher’s face, and it makes staying mad with him a bit of a challenge when he’s looking so pathetic. “Got yourself in quite the situation, haven’t you,” he hums, kneeling at the younger’s side and taking his time with a once over. The rancher’s tunic has taken damage, but his concern is where crimson leaks from the tears, not where blades have slashed through only to be halted by chain mail. Yes, the bruising won’t be fun, but his concern is something he can fix, anything that Twilight will actually need help with. 

There’s a wince from the other. “Not my intent.” 

“Never is,” he unclips the bag from his belt, eyes falling on a nasty looking gash just below the cut off of the chainmail’s sleeves. There are some light scratches over browned features and an injury to the leg that leaks slowly into the earth below, but the rancher’s armor looks to have done its job well.  

“The others?” 

“Fine.” He keeps his attention on slipping the bracer from his brother’s arm, on unbuckling and sliding away the leather, the underlying glove, and then rolling up the sleeve to get at the injury he needs to treat. Wound care fills his mind, not answers, not talking. That can come once he’s assured that the other is alright. Much as the man drives him mad, he’s still Time’s kid, and still a fellow hero, still a brother, still someone who doesn’t deserve to suffer just because he’s particularly good at being stupid and reckless. 

“Wild?” 

“Fine.” He repeats, sucking in his cheeks as he sees the damage done without fabric blocking the way. Claws do so much more damage than blades, and the chances of infection are higher too. Not as much as with bites, but it’s still not preferrable. 

“The kids?” 

He huffs, turning to grab for his kit, looking for anything he might have to quickly clean the wound. “You’d know if you didn’t run away mid battle.” 

Hurt crosses sloping features briefly, not for the prodding at the wound site, but from his sharp tongue. Regret stirs briefly at his heart, but like his ire, he pushes it down to keep his head clear and his mind focused on his work as their team’s current medic. 

“Yer upset.” 

The urge to tell the kid ‘no shit’ is very strong, but he bottles up that too. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the wound, on wiping it down and looking for anything that might have gotten into the cut.  

Twilight’s ears flick back, not appreciating having his words ignored. If there’s one thing the rancher is accustomed to, it’s answers when he speaks. Wild always answers, Time too even if it’s not verbal, and the younger ones always respond to. Being met with silence, both verbally and in body language, must be new to him. “Did somethin’ happen?” And when he still doesn't answer, “Wars, what’s goin’ on?” 

“They’re fine, now hush.” It’s a deep cut. Not as bad as the axe wound, but not light by any means either, and it will need stitches. He keeps his needles in a bottle, clean and ready for use, for this reason. Mask used to fuss that it was a waste of a good bottle, and the thought lightens his heart just slightly as he pulls it out and grabs the needed supplies to close the wound in the rancher’s arm.  

“No, Wars-” there’s a straining from the body beneath his hands, but Twilight doesn’t successfully pull himself up, and his face flashes white for a moment before he slumps again. It seems the mighty rancher has spent all his strength in fighting alone, nothing left to use to so much as sit up by himself. 

“Stay still,” he sighs, pushing down, entirely unnecessarily, against a shoulder. It’s for the sake of the man’s pride, he tells himself, to pretend to play along that twilight can get up on his own right now. “Let me work.” 

Work and bottle up his frustrations enough that he can talk afterwards. 

Twilight, however, has no such intentions of likewise staying silent. “Captain, what’s goin’ on?” 

“I said stay still.” 

“Are they hurt?” Blue eyes bleed worry, the same desperation his mentor used to let slip, sometimes still does when it’s his pup in trouble or hurt. “What happened?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Why are you actin’ like this then?” 

The urge to growl again rises, and again he shoves it down with pursed lips and clenched teeth, focusing his energy on starting the stitches and hoping the pain of them will be enough to distract the younger man from his line of questioning. It doesn’t work though. 

“Wars?” 

“Twilight,” his voice snaps without his allowing it, eyes flicking up to meet midnight blue, “I’m trying to focus. Stitches aren’t easy, believe it or not.” 

They’re familiar and he’s done more stitches in his life through human flesh and zora scales than his baby sisters have in their needlework projects that Maither gives them. He won’t admit that though, not if it gives him an out from having to talk. Honestly, some days, he really misses having Proxi around to speak for him when he’s stressed. She was always much better at that sort of thing than he was. 

Twilight falls quiet at his words though, but he still feels those eyes fixed on him, searching his face even as their gaze is broken with a flinch or a huff of pain as the needle pressed through flesh and pulls the two edges of the cut together. He has to stop a few times to dab away blood and clear the area for the next stitch, but he’s quick about his work. In and out, twisting the thread together to close the wound, moving on to the next stitch and watching as the flesh pulls together again over where blood leaks out. 

He's done before he’s ready to talk again, but bandaging is something they’ve all done, and he can’t say that actually takes so much focus as to stop him talking, and Twilight knows it, already pressing again with the questions. “Wars-” 

A scoff escapes, puffing hair out of his eyes to clear them, even though having it to hide behind would be much more preferable. “You really are Time’s pup, aren’tcha?” 

A tick. “What does that mean?” 

He ties off the ends of the linen wrap, tight enough to hold but not so much as to cut off circulation. “You’re a worrier and a fuss pot.” 

Heavy brows crease in answer, but Twilight doesn’t actually have a foot to stand on when it comes to opposing his words. Instead, the rancher just stares at him, waiting until Warriors turns his attention to the injured leg, arm finished. 

It’s only once he’s gotten a start on treating the cut there (this time from a blade) that the rancher’s voice rises again, guarded and wary. “You’re mad at me,” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Rather than guess why, Twilight pushes ahead. “I couldn’t let that moblin escape. We don’t know what’s out here, and letting it terrorize a village jist wouldn’t do. You know that, Wars.” When there’s no answer though, the country accent keeps rolling, pitching slightly, straining. “There was a whole ‘nother camp out here, one that might have attacked us in the night!” And then, when still no answer sounds from his lips, “You would have done the same.” 

“I would not.” He clips, snipping his thread and briefly glancing over at wide eyes. “I would have attended to my men and then pursued the enemy when we, as a team, were capable of doing so Wandering off on my own is what nearly lost us the war. So, as a rule, I won’t be doing that again unless I absolutely must.”  

That shuts the rancher up, recognition dawning in midnight eyes that falter and fall as he turns his attention back to tending wounds.  

There’s no more pushing done by either party, and it’s quiet as he works save the hisses and hitches of the younger man’s breath in pain as stitches are laid and bandages wrapped. That done though, the quite is almost overwhelming, even to him, and he finds himself sighing at it, crouching before his pup’s pup and resisting, with a lot of effort, the urge to hook a finger under the other's chin and lift that gaze to meet his own, like he’d done with his own kid what feels like only yesterday. Instead, he keeps his hands to himself, but gentles his gaze all the same. It’s not that hard, not when faced with familiar features drawn up in a soft scowl that, were it Mask, he’d teasingly call a pout. “I’m not mad,” a disbelieving look meets his own at the words, but he pushes his tone a bit firmer with the next ones. “I’m frustrated, but we can work over that later, preferably after we’ve all had dinner and some rest. For now, we should head back to the others, before your cub starts thinking we’ve dropped off the face of the world or something.” 

A furrow forms between dark brows, too sharp teeth, wolf teeth he muses to himself, gnawing at the other's cheek lining. It’s a bad habit, and he’s sure the man knows it, but he doesn’t correct it. That’s not his place. 

He can guess what’s troubling Twilight though. “Can you stand?” 

A huff, a little smile that’s flustered enough he can guess the answer. “Not really.” 

He knew it. He doesn’t hold it against the other though, instead, shifting to kneeling at the man’s side, shuffling about as he must before giving a waring of his intent. “I’ll carry you then.” 

Alarm flashes clear as day over the rancher’s face. “Cap, I don’t-” 

“I’m stronger than I look,” he assures, although it doesn’t seem to do any good. No doubt, twilight’s staring at his slighter frame and remembering his own bulk, but honestly, he’d served for years in the army. If he couldn’t haul an injured soldier any distance, he wouldn’t be worth the rupees he earns. 

Getting Twilight up on his back with no help from the weakened rancher or anyone else is a bit of a mess, and there’s some slipping and struggle which the rancher no doubt sees as proof that this is no good, but despite protests, he keeps at it until the other is slung over his back. Twilight is heavy, much more so than the other boys would be, but it’s not his first time hauling an Ordonian to safety, and the bulk of his brother just means he moves a bit slower than he would otherwise. 

Twilight’s grip around his neck is weaker than is ideal, but in the long run, it’s probably better that way, because it means his breath doesn't get cut off as he heads back to camp. 

Like he said, once they’re there, when they’ve had something to eat, and probably after the rancher downs a potion from his cub’s bag, they’ll need to talk. This time, he will not accept having them change the subject or redirect. This time they will discuss going off alone. 

After though. After they’ve had time to catch their breath. And he supposes, shaking his head, after Twilight wakes up again from the doze he’s apparently fallen into. 

Good grief, the man even snores as loud as his mentor! 

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 22

BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES tourniquet | reopening wounds | "oh, that's not good" / Heirloom

Yuu watched Malleus's hand shake, as an ashy pallor overtook his face.

It was remarkable to see such a thing happen- not just the unraveling of a high-and-mighty prince, but the drastic desaturation of an already very pale man.

His pupils had shrank to minuscule pips drowning in an ocean of bright green, the outline of his knuckles visible in his leather gloves as he tightened his hands.

Yuu stared at him for a bit, a slow, steady smile spreading across their face as Ace and Deuce slumbered deeply in the chairs next to their bed.

They stared at each other for a bit, Malleus frozen to the floor.

Yuu kind of expected him to come to them. They were the ones practically chained to the medical bed.

"H-hello," said Malleus finally. "How... how you feeling?"

"Better than before, I suppose," they said, unable to stop one of the corners of their mouth from lifting in a slight tease.

They tried to stamp down the little voice that wanted them to poke fun at him. There was something sickeningly thrilling, to not only know that they had so much power over a powerful man, but that it was currently on such display.

"That is not saying much," said Malleus, glancing off to the side.

"Yeah," they replied, a bit hoarse with the memories. "I know."

He stepped forward then, plucking the pitcher and a glass off their nightstand, which he quickly filled with water. He summoned a straw out of thin air and placed it in the glass, which he quickly offered to Yuu's lips.

They drank gratefully, appreciating the gesture more than the water but relishing the refreshening of their mouth.

As nice as it was to have Malleus here, seemingly at their mercy, Yuu wondered what he was actually here for. Ace and Deuce had already made their impassioned apologies for getting them into the precarious situation that had caused Yuu to become so injured.

It was Malleus, in the end, who had taken the charge on Yuu's necessary medical attention. Under the direction of Ace, he elevated their arm, applied pressure to the wound, and even tied a tourniquet to their arm when the situation became worse until help arrived.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked, setting the mostly-empty glass down on the nightstand.

"Not really," they replied, "except for maybe some company. Unless you have something else to do."

With a flash of magic, Malleus was sitting next to Yuu in his own chair, spine straightened and shoulders stiff as he folded his hands in his lap.

"What would you lie to discuss?" he asked, primed for a conversation.

Yuu giggled. So eager.

"I dunno. You start. Anything you want."

Malleus's head ducked. "I hadn't realized how helpless I was without my magic."

This sounded like it was gonna be a very roundabout apology.

"Don't be like that," they cut in. "First aid is tricky, and it was a tough situation."

"Still," he said regretfully. "This experience has identified large gaps in my knowledge. I must endeavor to fill them expediently, so that I can be a good ruler."

Yuu shook his head. "We could all use a first aid refresher anyway."

"It would have been impractical to expect for you to perform first aid on yourself."

"Can we talk about something else, please?" insisted Yuu.

Malleus shook his head. "Of course. I would not expect you to relive traumatic memories for my sake. Can I... perhaps interest you in a story from my homeland?"

Yuu smiled and nodded. This sounded like it was going to be a lot more entertaining.

"Well... ah, yes," said Malleus, before clearing his throat. "When my mother was young, and still courting my father, he desired to propose to her in private, to seek her consent before he asked the Senate and my grandmother for permission. But he had few means, and so instead of purchasing something, he decided to make her something."

"Aww," cooed Yuu.

"He ventured out into the forest to find fibers in which to weave together, and eventually settled on making a ring made of wood, with the centerpiece being a flower."

"Oh!" said Yuu, trying to picture the ring in their mind.

"However, once he plucked the flower he wanted, a flaower fairy appeared, and scolded him for taking her spare dress. He apologized, and gave her his hankerchief so she could make another, as by plucking it, my father had spoiled the flower."

"Oh," sighed Yuu.

"Of course, this meant the flower would not last for the ring. He asked for help, and so she instead told him to take the flower-dress and press it, and return to her when it was done. He did so, returning two days later to ensure the flower was properly pressed, and she rearranged the flower into a beautiful arrangement for the ring, and he thanked her. However, before he left, she had a request."

"Oh?" inquired Yuu.

"She asked for an invitation to the wedding, and, seeing that as a good sign, he agreed. A few weeks later, he would invite her on a date in the solarium to propose, but as fate would have it, she proposed before he could."

"Oh." Yuu gasped at the turn the story had taken.

"She, of course, gave him her permission to formally ask for her hand, and they exchanged rings. They got more official, ornate rings for their wedding day, and wore both on their fingers together. My mother, of course, was buried with her wedding ring, but the one she gave to my father for their pre-engagement was lost to time."

"Oh..." trailed off Yuu, blindsided by the tragic end, though they knew about Malleus's parents ultimate fate.

"The ring he made her was removed by my grandmother, and she is saving it for me to propose one day. It's quite beautiful, and the tiny stitches are still intact. I would hope that it would serve as my mother's approval of my future spouse, even beyond the grave."

"Oh!" exclaimed Yuu, unable to restrain themselves at the swell of emotion that rose within them.

"Anyways, I hope that has lifted your spirits somewhat."

Yuu nodded enthusiastically. "It did, it really did! That's so romantic!"

Malleus smiled. "I am glad, to have provided you even a temporary relief."

Yuu huffed and pushed themselves up. "Come here, and give me a hug. When I say I'm fine, I'm fine."

"But-" Malleus was cut off as Yuu yanked them into a hug, and he eventually melted into it."

"Ow!"

Malleus immediately pulled himself away to see red spread through their white bandages.

"Oh," he uttered airily, "oh no, no, no, that is not good."

"U-uh," stuttered Yuu, because they had realized that was kind of a bad idea, "maybe-"

But Malleus had already vanished and returned with a dazed-looking doctor, shoving them towards Yuu's bed.

[pigeonwhumps]

Courtroom

MD-264N masterlist

So um. You may notice this is not my Whumptober story. This is bc my brain decided it would only write this today. But enjoy anyway! At least I'm writing more than a sentence or two again!

Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @den-of-evil @dustypinetree @cardboardarsonist @skittles-the-whumpee

@whatwhumpcomments @whump-tr0pes @snakebites-and-ink @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds

@a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

An AU of MD-264N based on this prompt by @lumpywhump. Morgan goes on trial.

1.4k

CWs: living weapon whumpee, minor whump (discussed), past minor whump, meltdown, unintentional attempted self-harm (head banging), guns, gunshots

"I do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

Asha glances across at Morgan worriedly. This is the make-or-break evidence of the trial, she's sure of it, she hasn't seen what Blue has to present but she's seen the medical aftermath of it, and she's seen Blue's reaction (she knows exactly when he cracked the files because that's when he brought her the widened cutlery for them, visibly seething). The problem is that Morgan hasn't visibly reacted to anything so far today, and Asha doesn't think that'll help in the eyes of the judges.

Also, against all medical advice, Morgan is standing for the trial. It's standard. They shouldn't be, not on that ankle, not if they don't want to make the permanent damage worse. They didn't even walk here, but apparently weapons don't get seating if they're being reprimanded, so they won't sit now.

But it's been hours, and Asha is really worried about that ankle.

Blue clears his throat and Asha snaps her attention back to him.

"As you all know, Morgan has been with the Regime's Ministry of Defence since they were eight. Within their file was video and written evidence dating back to then. Your Honours, you have the written reports in your evidence packs, but there's videos that I am going to show you chronologically." He clicks a remote control and the screen changes to the hallway of a normal-seeming family home, books and toys scattered around. The 'play' triangle is superimposed over it. "Morgan's parents were well-documented protesters, though by the time they were eight they'd both stepped back from the movement to raise their child. Morgan had several disabilities and powers, both of which put them in danger. They were known as Lili then, and this video, of their... I suppose you could say recruitment, if you want to follow the government's euphemisms, is the last evidence we have of them having a name rather than a serial number until Rhian Williams named them Morgan upon their arrival here. If I may play the video, Your Honour?"

The head judge nods, and the video starts.

There's a high-pitched giggle off-screen, and then a kid charges into view, holding a battered notebook with sticky bookmarks sticking out of the side.

Asha's breath hitches. This must be Morgan. They don't look eight. They're so small.

"Hey!"

Morgan – Lili? – giggles again. A woman runs in, grabbing Morgan around the middle and lifting them into the air. Their long brown hair flies around them, mixing with her light hair.

"Got you! Now give me my notes back!"

There's a movement in the courtroom and Asha glances over. Morgan's dropped to the floor. At first Asha thinks it's just their ankle, but then they get up, clawing at the thin wooden rail attached to the plexiglass sides. Their eyes are fixed on the screen, and at first they look no more emotional than before, but tears stream down their cheeks, and their hands tremble.

"No!"

The woman smiles and snatches the notebook. "Too late. Let's see what you've given me."

As the woman flips through the pages, Asha notices the subtitles for the first time and her breath catches in her throat. She was focused so much on Morgan she didn't notice the language switch – she's not sure how that happened. But Welsh. Morgan's Welsh. A different part of Wales to herself, it sounds like more of a borders accent to Asha's north Wales, but they're Welsh. Can they still speak it? Would it help them if she did? Make them feel less alone?

The woman's eyes widen. "Baby, you–"

A door latch clicks off-screen. "Honey, I'm home!"

Morgan grins and scrambles off the woman, running for the edge of the screen. "Tad!"

Their dad enters the video, catching Morgan around the waist and spinning them in a circle. "Hey little monster. How was your day?"

"I decorated mam's notebook! And I've been practicing my writing!"

"Here, have a look," says Morgan's mam, passing the notebook over with a smile. Their dad's grin widens.

"You wrote your name? And a whole sentence?"

Morgan nods enthusiastically.

"She did indeed. She also coloured in my notes at the same time, but I'm sure my professor won't mind too much."

Morgan's dad ruffles their hair. "Well, I think this calls for celebratory pancakes. Why don't you go and pick out the mould?"

Morgan nods and charges off-screen. Morgan's dad wilts and he runs a hand through his hair. Their mam kisses him.

"Hard day at work?"

"No kidding. I got the number for that specialist, but we don't have long. If anyone catches wind of Lili..."

"We don't have long. But let's leave today for celebrating Lili. 50p she chooses the Archimedes mould?"

"I'd be a fool to take that bet." He puts an arm around her shoulders and they wander off-screen. There's nothing for a minute, just a blank hallway with no sound. Whatever camera bug this is by the former regime, it's good quality.

"Hey baby, what'd you choose?"

"Archimedes!"

"Your favourite. Come and help me with–"

There's a fast, loud banging on a door. "Ministry of Defence! Open up!"

Someone curses. Morgan yelps.

"Lili, I will always love you. Now run. Just like we practiced."

"Mam? Tad? What's–"

"Go! We'll catch you up."

A running child's footsteps. Morgan's dad strides into the hallway and takes down a framed painting, unlocking the safe beneath it and passing a gun to their mum.

She cocks it. Was it already loaded in there? Who were Morgan's parents?

"I love you."

"And I you."

The door crashes in. The sound of gunshots fills the room, and not just from Morgan's parents. They–

"No!"

The scream is strangled and wet. Asha glances around to see Morgan on their knees, their head in their hands, rocking. They look devastated.

The video doesn't end there, as Morgan's dragged on-screen, kicking and screaming, smacked around the head until she stops, and all of this over her parents' bodies, splayed out on the wood, blood pooling around them.

There's a makeshift height chart just visible in the last shot, the pencil marks on the wallpaper sprayed with blood.

This video ends here, with Morgan's removal, but it's not the only one. Asha doesn't know how Blue can stand there and present these so calmly. There's one very soon after, with Morgan's head newly-shaved, a shock harness and mittens freshly fitted, and they look so cold. They're in shock, they're an orphan, but they're not allowed to grieve, the attitudes of the handlers makes that clear. They don't understand but nobody's giving them a chance to do so.

And so it continues. And so Morgan grows up. Never spoken of as a person, never given an inch, locked into the tiniest room, shocked until they stop moving, stop speaking. Stop resisting. Trained, punished. Taught to kill, punished when they resist, hesitate, react violently to the harsh sounds and movements and actions. Hurt until they stop hesitating, forget that they can, perhaps forget that they were ever anything but a weapon, forged in the fires of pain and desperation, purged of everything they don't actively need in an effort to survive.

But the nightmares never stop. They still haven't, Asha knows. She just didn't have the context until now.

Meanwhile, present-day Morgan is getting worse with every piece of evidence. Scrambling back when certain people come on screen, and freezing, and pleading with the videos when they think they're going to be punished. Their face is blotchy with silent tears, and they keen, rocking back and forth in distress from the latest video (active mission testing).

And then they start trying to bash their head against the plexiglass, and one of their guards has to restrain them. Asha should be there, she's their doctor, but she tries to stand and someone official shakes their head at her. It's not fair, she knows she's part of the trial, but she– she–

"They've survived worse, they'll be okay," whispers Rhian hoarsely. Asha nods, unable to speak. She should still be there.

She aches to go to them. She knew it was bad – only a fool would see a young person wearing an electroshock harness and think it wasn't – but she didn't realise it was this bad.

But she can't. She's not allowed, she can't risk the trial, they won't let her. All she can do is sit here and watch uselessly as Morgan's heart is ripped wide open, all over the very public courtroom floor.

[i-eat-worlds]

New Series Reveal!

[Image ID: A title photo. It has a star filled picture of space as its background. The title reads “Starcross” in a large, futuristic font. A shooting star wraps around the last half of the title, shining brightly over the “C.” /End ID]

Two thousand years in the future, in a world where the Milky Way is dominated by hundreds of new alien species and humans are almost extinct, the crew of Starcross (a ship which is sometimes a courier, and sometimes a smuggler, depending on the cargo), find a terrified human left aboard an abandoned Yeran ship. As Starcross tries to outrun Yera’s imperial forces and protect their newest member, they must recon with their pasts, and their place in the history of the galaxy at large.

Content: sci-fi whump, conditioned whumpee, living weapon whump, violence and murder, medical whump, fictional politics, multiple caretakers, occasional discussion and thoughts of suicide, military whump, recovery with flashbacks, blood and gore

I’m going to try and post weekly, or at least every other week. Hopefully I’ll be able to finish it over the summer, but we’ll see. I’m excited to explore this new, whump world with you!

Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

[i-can-read-to-him]

The Wesper Fic Club's Author Spotlight is a post series that aims to feature two to three fic authors a month, randomly selected from a pool of names put forth on our server. The authors are then asked to answer three interview questions, select up to five of their fics for us to feature, and finally, recommend three fics by others in the fandom.

(Note: Our spotlighted fics are not limited to Wesper, though they tend to be a central pairing in most of our authors' featured works.)

This week, we are putting a spotlight on Reo's writing!

Socials: @reonnex (Tumblr) | Reonnex (AO3)

❀

Part One: Author Interview

Q: When did you first start writing? What keeps you going today? 

A: I've honestly been writing for as long as I can remember. I've always loved creating stories or thinking of ideas I would change in the books I've read. As a kid, my dad and I would read all types of books together at night before bed, which had always sparked my interest. And whenever I was given my first phone and introduced to online media and more fandom spaces, I realized I could write what I wanted. In middle school being a theater kid, most of that consisted of writing musical fanfics.  The drive to keep creating is what keeps me going. I am in the process of trying to write my own original book, And while I have barely started it or even figured out a plot  I want to be able to be the person who can make others feel seen in my words. 

Q: What are some recurring themes you’ve noticed in your writing?

A: I tend to get really into the character's heads. I will write their internal monologue sometimes more than the actual scene itself. I notice that sometimes I may write a good 100-200 words purely on how that character is feeling. Sometimes it can be good, but also it is a habit I am trying to break to keep the pace going and not make the fic seem “stuck.”

Q: What kind of music do you like to listen to while writing

A: Honestly all different types. I have character playlists that I listen to while writing for a specific character if I really want to channel them internally, but the songs can range from Jhariah, Noah Kahan, Alex G and many more. I have to get myself into their mindsets for me to write them or I am stuck on a blank page for hours.

❀

Part Two: Selected Works

I'm biting my own tongue, I am my fathers lost son

Mature | 70K+ (WIP) | Wylan-centric, Wesper Whump, Torture, Torture aftermath, Recovery, PTSD

Reonnex says: This is my pride and joy. A what-if scenario that Wylan was the one captured instead of Inej at the end of Six Of Crows. It is still ongoing but I am almost finished with it. As of now I should be wrapping it up in two more chapters plus an epilogue! 

Who’s a heretic child?

Teen | 19K (Completed) | Matthias and Wylan's friendship Alternative first meeting, Implied child abuse

Reonnex says: This was my first Six Of Crows fic, and what a bold take I went for. It was way out of my comfort zone, but I loved it. This is an alternative first meeting/universe where Wylan was still with his father as Matthias was broken out of Hellgate and has him go undercover as a guard for Wylan after rumors spread about the boy.

Lay your secrets on my lips dear

Teen | 6K (Complete) | Wesper Medical abuse, Drunken confession, Hangovers

Reonnex says: Wylan and Jesper both get drunk together, and as the night progresses, Wylan begins to share more of his past. I love this fic so much as I really wanted to dive more into Wylan’s trauma around those trying to cure him. I focused on the types of tonics based around the 1800s.

A family of trees wanted, to be haunted

Teen | 5K (Complete ) | Inej-centric, Wylan and Inej friendship Referenced Child Abuse, Referenced Rape/Non-con, Panic attacks

Reonnex says: This fic discusses both Inej and Wylan and their traumas. I had a lot of fun writing in Inej’s POV. This fic takes place the night before the Pekka showdown, and I wrote it due to wanting to know why Wylan wasn’t there. 

Paint me like one of your Saints

Teen | 3K (Complete) | Wesper, Jesper-centric ADHD, Paintings, Domestic, Fluff and Humor, Sexual Humor

Reonnex says: Jesper agrees to become a muse for Wylan to paint. I wrote this fic for Jesptember, and I have already fallen in love with it as one of my favorites. As someone with ADHD as well, I feel really connected to Jesper and wanted to show that internal battle of wanting to please others, but also struggling do go through with it.

❀

Part Three: Author's Recs

flowers on burning ships (i know i’m the one you want to forget) by sunshineriptiee

Gen | 30K (Complete) | Wesper Breakups, Second chances, Exes to lovers, Post-Crooked Kingdom

Reonnex says: This includes a Wesper breakup, but also such a sweet ending. I really loved how this fits into Six of Crows so well. Wesper is growing older, and so are Wylan and Jesper. It was a refreshing touch to see how things may not all be perfect, and that there has to be time to figure yourself out.

this town is fake (but you're the real thing) by hopeisbloody

Teen | 50K+ (WIP) | Wesper Fake dating, Actor!Jesper, Influencer!Wylan, Modern era

Reonnex says: I have become so obsessed with this fic so much. It’s a modern AU of Jesper becoming an actor, and Wylan a famous celebrity. The two agree to fake date, but then that becomes into something more.

Shoot from the Hip by @nerdlingmerchling (AKA dandelionpower)

Explicit | 83K+ (WIP) | Wesper Developing Relationship, Past Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Reonnex says: An amazing fic by the talented @nerdlingmerchling. This is the second work in the series Slow Burning Gunpowder. It is a lens through Wesper for the show, including scenes from it, as well as creating new scenes that fit so well into cannon.

❀

Please support our authors by commenting and leaving kudos on any stories of theirs you read and enjoy! Don't forget to also reblog this post and check back soon for our next author spotlight to come.

Interested in joining our server and getting to know our community? Feel free to request an invite via the @i-can-read-to-him ask box.