#implied recapture

[whumpacabra]

I am thinking about a character coming home late. I am thinking about their friends being worried, relieved beyond belief to see them again (because the last time they disappeared…it was bad). The character doesn’t want to talk about where they’ve been, and that’s fine, but their friends just want to know they’re not hurt -

And at that the character snaps at them, violently pushing them away and running to hide in the nearest room with locking door. They’re fine, they just need space - because they are hurt (it’s bad) but they don’t want to worry their friends, they want to be able to take care of themself.

(It wasn’t supposed to happen again.)

[whumblr]

Whump prompt #69

Whumpee froze in their tracks as they were led into the familiar room. It hadn't changed at all since their last capture and the ever present smell of disinfectant made their stomach churn.

"Memories clawing up at you, hm?"

A hand gripped their shoulder and nudged them forward. A whisper brushed against their ear:

"Let's make some new ones."

[auroragehenna]

Whump drabble

CW/TW: Compulsion, recapture (that wasn't planned but my writing somehow ended up there), magic whump, generic whump, brief mention of alcohol, kidnapping, cruel whumper, Word count: 557

The place was buzzing around Whumpee; Voices and music in the background, dimmed coloured lights hanging from the ceiling. It was nice, not enough to be overstimulating, just enough to drown out the noise from their head.

They took another sip from their beverage, non-alcoholic of course, ever since Whumper they preferred to have a clear head. Surely someday though they‘d be able to enjoy a proper cocktail again.

Regardless.

I wanna have some fun. Maybe a game of pool will do me so good, betting for nothing more than a round of drinks again.

As Whumpee took a couple steps forward, leaving their backpack at the wardrobe they approached the nearest pool table as two hands suddenly rested on their shoulders. A sickening feeling rushing through their body in consequence, sinking in and carving itself inside them. Whumpee whipped around, steadying their drink with one hand only to look up into the grinning face and cold eyes of Whumper!

„How did-You shoudln’t be here. I got out, I broke free.“ They shook themselves out of Whumper‘s grip, the sickening feeling lessening in turn.

Whumper‘s grin was unfaltering. „Did you now? Cute that you think so. Last I remember I own you, body and soul. Now quietly go and get your coat.", they ordered with the ever present grin, the ever casual swing in their voice.

Whumpee stiffened, taking another step back. "I don't have to take orders from you anymore." But as they said it they could feel their inside start to burn, from their toes to their hair roots. The sensation worsened until Whumpee could feel their body move against their will, move to fetch their coat. Dread closed over them like an icey wave. Compulsions, that feeling, that feeling that they had banished to the darkest corners of their mind. NO.

Once their body Whumpee had picked up their coat their gaze fell onto their backpack. There really wasn‘t much in it, just some hygiene articles, a book a smaller bag full of little trinkets and a notebook. Not much, definitely not a threat but important to them.

They crouched down to pick it up but Whumper who had followed them on the heel tutted: „Ah ah ah. No, leave it here.“

Whumpees eyes, previously fixated on the backpack slowly travelled up to Whumper‘s face only to find a way too familiar cruel grin laying on it. They knew there was no reasoning with them if they‘ve got themselves set on something. It was even more shameful that they didn‘t even use the compulsion, barely phrased it as an order…

As Whumper again stepped away for a moment Whumpee frantically removed some trinkets from their bag and stuffed them in their pockets. But the other's form returned quicker than anticipated, forcing Whumpee to kick the trinket bag underneath a tower of chairs.

Whumper simply forced them to walk with them, guiding them with a painfully firm hand around their arm. Once they were out of the bar Whumper painfully twisted Whumpee‘s arm behind their back, leaning in close, their breath against the forced one's ear in the night air. „I saw that, Whumpee. Maybe once we're back home, if you beg me well enough I won't force you to destroy whatever you stuffed in your pockets.“, they whispered icy, shoving Whumpee into a car.

Taglist: @/yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud,

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

All things end

thank you so so so much @3-2-whump for letting me borrow your boys I love them dearly

Read Eternal and its sequel North Star to catch up, buckle up kids, I wrote ✨fanfiction✨

my writing

TW: recapture, fade-to-black noncon, lots of angst, noncon touch

He stared at the open door dumbfounded, keys in hand, ready to unlock it. It was already open, and all his roommates stood behind his back carrying a few bags of groceries.

“It’s open,” he announced flatly, and pushed the door in.

“Who left last and didn’t lock it?” Cade pushed past him, annoyed. It wasn’t him, he knew it wasn’t his fault, still his stomach turned with anxiety. The hollow echo of an impending punishment sat on his shoulder. It didn’t matter if he did it or not, he has to take whatever-

“I locked it, I swear,” Vik said from the back, and Khaled sighed with relief and turned to look at him with an encouraging smile.

He bumped into Cade’s back from behind. “What the fuck?” He asked and Khaled wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I’m so so sorry, I-”

“What the fuck?” Cade asked again, and walked into the apartment with a brisk pace.

He wasn’t talking to Khaled at all, and now that he looked around, he wasn’t sure Cade even noticed him walking into his back. Their TV was gone, kitchen appliances, gone, the living room was a huge mess.

“Someone broke in!”

“What did they take?”

“Call 911!”

He barely heard his roommates voices over the loud thrumming of his own heart. They found me was all he could think of. He crossed his arms around himself protectively, trying to shrink as small as possible.

“Hey, Khaled, are you okay?” It was Vikash, who finally noticed his distress. He barely saw his face through the tears that gathered in his eyes.

“They found me,” he could only whisper. The expressions crossing Vik’s face in order were: confusion, realization, relief and finally, concern.

“Oh, no, hey, don’t worry,” he tried his best to stay calm, “they took stuff and left, you’re safe, see?” He gestured around. Cade and Eric had disappeared to take inventory of their rooms.

“It’s a trick, I know, they- I’m so sorry!” He broke down in a sob. What Vik was saying made sense, but he felt the heaviness of Luca’s hand on his neck and he crumbled under the weight.

“It’s okay, you’re fine.” Vik reassured and crouched down on the floor next to him.

The following minutes passed by in a blur. Khaled tried to calm his breathing, while his roommates paced around anxiously as they waited for the police to arrive.

He panicked again, when a knock came on the door.

Eric rushed to let the three officers in. There were two younger ones, and an old guy. He didn’t look around the room, but looked at the four people inside, his gaze settling on Khaled.

He wiped away his tears quickly, he tried to pretend he was brave; he had seen things much worse than a robbery. He was a victim to many things much worse than a robbery.

The old man moved on from staring at him, and followed his colleagues around. Vik left him alone and joined their roommates and the cops that questioned them, while Khaled slowly peeled himself off the floor.

“Which one of you entered first?” The old officer asked. This was his chance. He could redeem himself. He cleared his throat.

“I opened the door,” he said. He was expecting is voice to shake much more than it actually did. The old man looked him up and down again, and he trembled under his scrutinizing gaze.

“Would you come out here and walk me through what you saw?” He asked, gesturing towards the door. Khaled nodded and they walked to the entrance. He turned around for a moment, but the others were being questioned by the other two officers. How stupid it would be of him to ask for one of them to accompany him. It was a break-in and he was fine, and he was the one faking confidence to talk with the officer. Vikash nodded encouragingly and Khaled shot back a half-hearted smile, then followed the man outside.

There was a police van right outside the building. Parked on the side of the road between a crappy, old, red truck and a pristine black sports car. The latter caught his eye, it didn’t fit the picture. And he didn’t think it was there when they got home and a horrible, heavy feeling settled in his stomach. It’s just paranoia. He is okay. They are looking for a robber.

But he remembered the Costas had cops on their payroll.

He wanted to run back into the building, but the old man stood in the doorway, blocking the door. He stared at Khaled with a strange expression.

“So?” He asked, and Khaled knew he was annoyed. It took him a second to remember why they were standing there. “Did you notice anything else, other than the open door before you walked in?”

“No, Sir,” the words felt wrong, but he couldn’t help letting them form. “We went for groceries, and barely left an hour ago,” he explained after clearing his throat again.

“And? Do you see anything out here, anything out of the ordinary now?” The old man asked, he seemed to think Khaled will magically solve the case. He shook his head.

“Neighbors’ houses? Broken windows that weren’t broken before?” He did notice the state of the door that hadn’t caught his eye before, but the officer was standing right there, it seemed like he didn't care about the door.

He could go back inside sooner if he actually looks around, he thought.

He walked away from the building, to the side of the road where the cars were parked.

His back towards the strange black car. He felt awkward looking at the building and seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

The cop followed him and stood by his side.

“Really? Nothing?” He asked, again, and sighed when Khaled shook his head, again. “I thought you would be of more help...”

He felt his stomach do a double flip. “What?”

The sports car looked wrong, because it was pristine, not a speck of dust on it, as if it was driven there straight from a dealership.

It clicked a moment too late.

He turned to run, but the old man had better reflexes than he anticipated and caught him by the arm and yanked him back.

“Get in the car,” he rasped and pushed him towards the vehicle. The engine came alive, behind him, as he fought, and the door was pushed open from the inside. He barely had a second to scream before he was pushed inside and the door shut again.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe, but it didn’t help. The door was locked and he couldn’t turn to his left to see who else is in the car. He couldn’t ignore it for long as the scent of the painfully familiar cologne hit his nose. There was a strange sweet caramel aroma to it he used to find comfort in with the tobacco and wood he could taste in his mouth. He felt like throwing up.

He still tried to open the door, with no success. Maybe if he climbed in the back… But then he would have to get past him.

The window on the driver’s side rolled down.

“Pleasure doing business with you!” He heard some papers rustling. The officer took the money and the window rolled back up smoothly.

He felt the air leave his lungs. He was trapped.

They pulled out from behind the police van and were on the road. He watched the building behind them get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

He didn’t notice when he started muttering “No, no, no, no, no” as if that could reverse what happened, make it not true.

“I missed you, you know,” the faceless, bodiless entity spoke in an all too familiar voice.

He squeezed his eyes shut as strong as he could, praying that when he opens them next time, he would be back home.

“You died,” he finally pushed the words past his lips, then he bit down on his tongue, regretting that he spoke.

“Is that how you greet me? Fine,” Thomas replied, frustration pouring from his entire being.

“I saw you in the morgue,” Khaled insisted unable to stop himself. He finally opened his eyes, he should keep track of where they were going, but he could barely focus on the road, only the white knuckled hands gripping the steering wheel on the edge of his peripheral vision.

“You saw a man with his face all fucked up,” he replied flatly.

“But the tattoos-” Khaled tried, but Thomas Costa was inarguably sitting next to him driving further and further away from his rescuers apartment.

“You have them too, don’t you?” He snorted. “Look, you don’t need to know how, it doesn’t matter.”

“You were way harder to find than I expected,” he didn’t reply. Just stared at the road ahead. He had already forgotten the turns they took so far. “Your tracker stopped working.”

A flicker of warmth, pride, filled his chest. “I had it removed.”

“Impressive,” Thomas hummed, “but not enough.” Khaled could hear the triumphant grin in his voice.

“How did you find me then?” His voice shook.

“You sound like you aren’t happy to be back with your master,” he chided. “You don’t need to know.”

Khaled didn’t reply. He couldn’t for a long moment.

“You are dead.” There was no conviction behind the words anymore “Look at me, boy,” his master commanded. He saw as he took his right hand off the wheel

and placed it on his thigh, squeezing it gently. The touch was so familiar it burnt.

Khaled lifted his gaze and met the man’s eyes. Those horrible steely gray eyes and the face

that haunted him in his nightmares. Except the face wasn’t what it used to look like. There

were two scars distorting the left side of his face. “Do I look dead to you?”

Khaled turned his head away to break eye contact and didn’t answer until the hand on his

thigh squeezed so hard his breath hitched. Then he shook his head.

“No, Master”

“Great,” his grip softened.

…

They arrived at a remote little house, near the seaside, hours later. Khaled vaguely remembered a place like this from the first summer he spent with the man as a child.

The air inside was thick and stale. The man walked around and opened the windows.

Khaled stood in the doorway where he had been left, bouncing his leg anxiously, itching to start running, but there was nothing around them for miles, and even if he ran, the man would catch him in seconds.

His master was suddenly standing in front of him again, lifting his chin with a finger looking him over. He could see the thick scars better now, one across his cheek and another one running from his forehead down his temple, into his hairline. That side of his face looked different from the other. His lips pulled in an asymmetrical smile.

„You cut your hair,” he noted caressing his chin and running his fingertips over his scalp, before his palm settled on the nape of his neck. Khaled nodded, too stunned to speak.

„You’ll grow it back out,” he stated. His own hair was longer than usual, as if he couldn’t get to the barber in time.

Khaled nodded again. Numb. You’ll grow it back out. Short enough to be manageable, long enough for his master to grab. He remembered.

“I don’t have to, I’m free!” He protested, weakly, “I was free,” he added miserably.

Thomas ran a hand down on his arm leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Were you?” His hand wrapped around his wrist, grinding the bracelets that covered up his tattoo there against the bone painfully.

The five thick lines of ink, around his wrists, ankles and neck started burning at the same time, the memory of them healing, itching, and hurting surfaced for a moment.

He shook his head, to get rid of the thought, maybe to agree with his master that he really never was.

"Strip,” he ordered, “and start with the bracelets." Khaled did so, resigned to his fate, tears

running down his cheeks. He placed each of Vik’s treasured bands on the coffee table.

“You’ll thank me for getting you back.”

He stood there, naked, under the man's piercing steel gaze. He tried to make himself small, he tried to disappear, not that it worked.

He started lowering himself, as slowly as possible to draw it out, bending one knee towards the ground, but Tom caught him by the arm and pulled him back up. They were standing so close he felt the other man's breath on his mouth.

"What are you doing, boy?" he asked, incredulously. Khaled blushed. Wasn’t this what he wanted of him?

"I was just-"

“We're way past that,” he said, his voice soft, but danger lurked behind it, “Thank me properly.”

Khaled heard the smirk in his master's voice, before lifting his gaze from the buttons of his shirt he'd been staring at. He looked at Thomas through his lashes, and the man leaned closer with a smile, beckoning him. “That's it,” he encouraged and Khaled pressed his lips to the man's.

He pushed Khaled back, just enough to look in his eyes, that glistened with tears, he wiped one away with his thumb.

“Don't cry, baby, we're celebrating properly!” His hand slid down his shoulder again, grabbing his arm and he steered the boy towards the bedroom.

[clfixationstation]

Spoilers for Act 3 of Arcane Caitvi!

Why are both caitvi kisses interrupting incredibly emotionally vulnerable and painful moments for Vi? I know the first was intentionally uneasy because Cait had already changed and Vi knew it but??

Am I just not understanding the build up? Because both felt really. Random to me. Like "oh, I guess we're doing this now! Instead of... reassuring Vi?" ?? I'm confused. I'll def rewatch tomorrow because it's possible I simply did not comprehend the scene

[returnofismasm]

Given how much of the immediate backstory to Dragon Age: Inquisition was found in Asunder and the Masked Empire, I think some people might be wondering if any of the short stories, anthologies, or comics are also "homework" for The Veilguard. Obviously, the game's not out yet, so I can't be 100% sure, but here's my best recommendations based on what we know about the characters (done in alphabetical order because why not).

Bellara: She's new! The Veil-jumpers are in a single issue of the Missing, but she's not any of the ones named there. They investigate magical disturbances around Arlathan forest, and that's kind of all we know.

Davrin: Also new! The reason he seems to have a juvenile griffon (or at least, why there's a griffon at all!) is covered in the events of the novel The Last Flight, but it's hard to say how much any of those specifics are relevant to Davrin.

Emmrich: Emmrich (and Manfred!) is in Down Among the Dead Men in Tevinter Nights, and another, The Eternal Flame released during a Dragon Age Day and archived on the wiki. We learn he's a senior member of the Mourn Watchers, somewhat eccentric, and capable of talking to the dead. Also he's got a last name, Volkarin, so that's neat. All of that seems pretty easy to catch people up on in-game. (Down Among the Dead Men is really good though).

Harding: Harding is in the Missing, accompanying Varric on his hunt for Solas. Her buddy-cop-comedy-ing it with Varric is apparent from the trailer. Her apparent magic powers are completely new though!

Lucanis: He and Neve probably have the most backstory in Tevinter Nights of the bunch. Lucanis's story is found in the Wigmaker Job and he's mentioned in Eight Little Talons, both in Tevinter Nights. A Dragon Age Day short story called the Wake seems to have implied that he died, so mayhaps he faked his death? To hopefully set some people at ease, even though he's advertised as "The Magekiller," the mages he's killing are Venatori, so it's all good. I doubt he'd have beef with Neve or Emmrich or a mage PC JUST because they're mages. Also he's got a last name, Dellamorte.

Neve: Neve has a last name too! It's Gallus. Neve is the viewpoint character of the Streets of Minrathous, where she stops a Venatori plot to unleash a giant sealed demon underneath Minrathous. Her story is very Noir-vibes in a fantasy setting. She's also in the Missing for an issue, where she meets Varric and Harding and they work together to help escaped slaves avoid recapture by the Venatori. The giant sealed demon business did feel very "preview of a boss battle" but who can say if it actually is.

Taash: Like with Bellara, Taash herself is new, but the Lords of Fortune have featured elsewhere. They're in a number of stories in Tevinter Nights, as well as in Dragon Age: Absolution. The group doesn't seem to have a formal role, they seem to be sort of "adventurers for hire." Side note though, Ataashi is Qunlat for dragon, so I wonder if that's where Taash got her name.

[duchess-of-mandalore]

"The Lawless" and its Darker Implications

This is a dark and heavy post, so most of it will be hidden beneath the read-more link. I'll also note that what I say is not canon, so you're under no obligation to hold to this interpretation I'm presenting.

This subject came up on Twitter because of the attempted sexual assault scene in Andor 2.03. A certain well-known fanboy with 3 million YouTube followers put out a post saying that "SA has no place in Star Wars."

While there are legitimate reasons to want such triggering content in Star Wars, I was annoyed by this person's ignorance and failure to recognize that SA and its effects have been in Star Wars for a very long time. I made a post detailing the many instances in which sexual assault has been present in Star Wars. In response to the original statement, "SA has no place in Star Wars," I captioned my post thread, "Maybe it was just easier for you to ignore before."

I included examples you'd expect, like Leia and Oola in RotJ, Arla Fett, Twi'lek women in general who are often trafficked as sex slaves...

... but another example I included (knowing I'd get some confusion and pushback) is Satine in "The Lawless."

If you're still here, you consent to listening to my detailed reasoning for why I hold this interpretation. Got it? Okay, good.

At the start of the episode, Satine has been in prison for quite some time (multiple weeks, according to the Darth Maul: Shadow Conspiracy novelization). Her outfit is slightly different from what it looked like in the episode before: she's lost her long skirt, her collar's double ruff, her belt, her mantle necklace, and her diadem.

My guess is that during her time in prison, Death Watch stole those items off of her, but the point is, a month into her captivity, she still looks put together. Her remaining clothes look fine, and she keeps her hair in a neat bun.

Bo-Katan and Korkie break her out of prison, they race out of the city, Satine gets a message off to Obi-Wan, and then she's recaptured. By the time Obi-Wan gets to her (hours or days later, who can tell?), she looks considerably worse for wear. And the changes are concerning.

Her hair is not just down but disheveled.

Her tunic and trousers are ripped in numerous places.

Most disturbingly, when a lone male Mandalorian commando enters her cell without notice or permission, Satine greets him by saying, "Here to do more of your master's bidding?" There's a lot to unpack about what exactly Maul's "bidding" is, but Satine's words clearly imply that she has already endured a man coming to her cell at least once before, and it seems like if Maul had previously been restraining Death Watch from treating Satine poorly, he removed that protection after her escape attempt.

There's a reason the episode is called "The Lawless."

As I said before, I'm not saying that Satine being sexually assaulted is canon ... though her being at least physically assaulted by Death Watch after she's recaptured essentially is.

But when those puzzle pieces are assembled, I do think that the implication is darker, especially when you consider the episode "A Friend in Need," in which Death Watch is explicitly shown engaging in ongoing kidnapping, slavery, and sexual objectification of the local Ming Po women with the implication of SA for the purposes of terror, intimidation, and their own comfort ...

... and the fact that Death Watch has a very particular vendetta against Satine, the heretic pacifist who has left them feeling marginalized in what was previously a warrior society.

It's dark, I know. But I think it's the only end that really makes sense.

There's a reason why Satine clings so desperately to Obi-Wan when he finally comes to rescue her: she's grateful he's there to take her away, and she's grateful that he's not who she originally thought he was.

[rimatsu]

Ok convince me to reject caution and embrace delusion. Why are you so hopeful? 

the safe bet is definitely caution. but regardless of initial intentions, nothing is ever set in stone in the 911 writing room and that’s reason enough to remain hopeful. still, when people say the chances of a reconciliation are non-zero, i think that’s low-balling it. at the very least, we’re at 10% chance, 90% faith.

granted the interviews i (unwillingly) absorbed via osmosis don't exactly inspire confidence but again: 1) tim is fickle as the wind and writers can change their minds at the drop of a hat, 2) nothing that was directly stated by actors or showrunner contradicts the idea of a makeup arc, 3) if the breakup was intentionally designed as a temporary hurdle they’d imply otherwise anyway (oh god i sound like Them don't i.... this is a cry for help)

the reasons why 8x06 could qualify as a temporary split have been extensively discussed so i’ll try to be brief (spoiler: i failed) before tackling what i’d like to see in 8b. buckle up buttercup, i’m a yapper:

1) the breakup wasn’t written as definitive or unfixable. buck and tommy didn’t part because of irreconcilable differences or because passion/attraction fizzled out. if they wanted that door closed, tommy could’ve simply said he was uninterested in pursuing long term commitment with buck, that they’re not compatible in the long run — there: a clean, uncomplicated break. instead, we’re told that tommy desperately wants to be the person buck settles down with, but he’s convinced buck is propelled by the excitement of novelty, that he suspects buck is latching onto him for the wrong reasons, that he can’t allow himself to merge their home life together in fear he’ll never recover once buck wants out. the implications here being tommy is in love with buck already. for his part, buck came to the realization that he wants a future with tommy and immediately decided to pursue it because that's just the type of man he is: never one to do things by half-measures, seeing no value in waiting once his mind is made up. so there’s no conflicting desire there. they want the same thing: permanence with each other. the next two episodes also paint a strange picture if the goal is a definitive separation. buck bakes excessively in an attempt to cope when he never needed a coping mechanism following a breakup before, and we’re told several times that he wants to reach out — in fact buck was about to reach out until he was physically stopped. in total, 3 tommy mentions so far. usually we get the one and then buck moves on to greener pastures (abby notwithstanding, but she's an exception and not the rule, main character privilege and all). we were even deliberately shown that tommy considered contacting buck on his own. that's establishing regret and a desire for reconnection on both sides of the equation. again, that’s a never seen before: tommy is an outlier. completely unnecessary if the breakup is a done deal. whether they follow it through or not, the aftermath was written in such a way that there’s ground for a reconciliation if needs be

2) this is the first buck break up to happen during the first act of the season, something that’s normally reserved for the finale for maximum impact. why this distinction? strange placement for the end of a romantic storyline if you ask me.

3) they're never going to replicate a LI that checks out as many boxes as tommy does, or recapture the romcom magic that was 7x04-7x06. and it's fine if they don't, not all endgame romances need to be the most memorable of the bunch, but it'd be stupid to let the remaining potential go to waste. it's undeniable, the show is nearing its end, i don't imagine they get renewed past s10. if they go the natalia route again and introduce a LI at the last moment, it's going to pale in comparison to the other viable option, one that has pre-established history and connection to buck/the 118. inadvertently or not, they set up an epic love story of intertwined fate. tommy has literally haunted the narrative since the pilot: one of the very first thing abby reveals is that she’s not over tommy breaking off their (retconned) engagement. as such, tommy has played a pivotal role in shaping buck into the man he is today: if tommy hadn’t transferred out to harbor station, buck wouldn’t have found his family and his life purpose. if tommy hadn’t left abby, buck wouldn’t have realized that emotional intimacy and romantic connection is what he seeks. if tommy hadn’t kissed him, a huge part of buck’s identity would’ve remained buried and unexplored. how are they possibly going to top a red string theory dating back 8 seasons? they can’t. i’m sure they’re aware of that.

4) why bring our attention to tommy’s admiration and envy for a tight-knit unit like the 118, on three separate occasions, if the ultimate goal isn’t to reward him and integrate him into the makeshift family?

5) idk what it's worth, if it's worth anything at all, but there’s been a substantial amount of displeasure voiced over their breakup. tommy is buck’s most well-received LI to date. they took a risk with the Big Bisexual Reveal and it paid off with increased engagement and viewership. if they were still debating a reconciliation, surely they've heard that at least some people will eagerly welcome a makeup arc with open arms.

i'm a broken record so i'm probably repeating myself but here goes my ideal timeline for the rest of the season (not a speculation, not wishful thinking, but a secret third thing):

i'm gonna operate under the assumption that the breakup happened solely so buck could be at his lowest for the kidnapping plot line with a minimal/reduced support system (no boyfriend AND no best friend around when his pregnant sister is abducted). in other words, i don't think buck will be in a place to venture back into the dating world by 8x09-8x10 quite yet (i don’t actually buy the buck-dates-the-serial-killer theory). he's handled the breakup fairly well but now with the kidnapping & eddie gone/in the process of moving, i assume that's when he really starts to spiral.

(if we get a fourth tommy mention here, i'd say it's a promising sign. it’d be a purposeful way to keep him in viewers’ radar after the 4-month break)

i think getting maddie back after a few days of fear and uncertainty will be a breakthrough for buck and he’ll make a conscious decision to move on from his funk by the end of 8x10.

ideally “jumping back into the pond” would take place in 8x11 to 8x13, starting with a comedic montage of buck in a string of various failed dates. this is the part of the season where i expect him to utter the word bisexual, probably when the topic of exes comes into play. every other queer identity in the show gets labeled and stated in no uncertain terms, but bisexuality is ever only vaguely implied (nancy in ls) or shown but not explicitly spoken (buck and eva). it’s frustrating. personally i choose to believe buck’s lackluster reaction to maddie’s questionable “how many men did she turn gay?” joke was intentional on the writers’ part. it was the perfect opportunity to reaffirm his sexuality but buck didn’t bc he's not fully in tune with his queerness yet. yeah he speedran through his coming out but recalibrating your entire identity after 3 decades of presumed heterosexuality is a complex process rifled with ups and downs. i hope it gets explored with more care and depth in future episodes.

supposedly we know two things: the fling is another form of coping mechanism, and it's short-lived. chances are it's going to be a woman, and i'd love for it to be a bi girl bc 1) yay bi4bi m/f representation, 2) he's dating someone who can intimately relate to his experience and can maybe offer some additional clarity where clarity is still needed.

my other preferred scenario is that he meets a guy who immediately clocks that buck is still hung up on his ex and not emotionally available for anything more than casual fun. basically give buck a sex friend who can expose him to the LA gay scene. if my memory serves me right, OS said he'd like to see buck in queer spaces. i would like to see it too (we could’ve had that exploration with tommy but i digress….)

long story short, he eventually meets someone he has chemistry with, but it's still not as easy or companionable or butterfly-inducing as it was with tommy. buck gets back home from the seemingly successful date and he just... starts baking — wordlessly communicating to the audience that he’s still plagued by Tommy Thoughts.

now if i put on my clown shoes, i’d say the bts pictures of the 217 engines suggest an upcoming bucktommy reunion on a call (surely they were made for a reason. right. RIGHT????), ideally in 8x14. i’ve babbled about it here, but the sparknotes version is:

- there's a 5 alarm high-rise fire requiring ground and aerial ops. tommy is tasked with delivering firefighters to the roof, including the 118. the chopper ride to destination is understandably awkward but professional enough

- tommy joins ground ops once he’s completed his maximum hours of flight. he ends up trapped in a pocket of rubbles with buck after a partial structural collapse. that’s when they hash it out. it’s not pretty: they’re on edge and exhausted and full of adrenaline and words aren’t sugarcoated or minced. but they’re honest, and afterward they understand each other’s perspective.

it has been said before, but i don't think buck registered the underlying message of the breakup. we know he doesn't handle rejection well, and it's likely he was so hyperfocused on being told no that he didn’t compute the “no matter how much i want to be (your last)” part. that’d explain the 118’s strange response to the split. if i was told “my boyfriend broke up with me because he thinks i'll eventually break his heart once i figure out he's not who i truly want” i’d strongly advise communication before calling it quit prematurely. but if my friend told me “my boyfriend broke up with me when i asked him to move in bc he doesn't think we'll last bc i don’t know what i want” i would trust that they relayed the correct story and i too would discourage contact.

anyway buck has stated that he doesn’t want to chase after someone who doesn’t want him before, but now he knows that wanting was never the issue with tommy, that the breakup was fueled by insecurities and fears and trauma rather than disinterest. at first, it’s presented as reaching a necessary closure: once the fire is contained, buck and tommy part way with another “see you around, buck. i truly hope you find what you’re looking for” and a bittersweet smile. except now buck has had another breakthrough, he’s full of renewed resolved and clarity, and he’s ready to fight for this relationship, so he shows up at tommy’s doorstep the next night and pleads his case.

in 8x15-8x16, we see them readjust to being a couple except this time, it's with the knowledge that they both want serious in the long run. maybe they discover facets of each other previously kept under wraps for the sake of 'keeping it light and breezy'. also they fuck/fade to black on screen (this is imperative)

the last two episodes are focused on the closing disaster, whatever that might be. in this hypothetical timeline, we get a few more glimpses of domesticity. maybe even establish the setup for a move-in next season when bucktommy discuss buck’s lease.

you can have the helicopter crash as a treat for s9. once they're truly settled with each other and it's bound to be more devastating.

voilà <3 apologies and congratulations for your perseverance if you made it this far. the answer was never supposed to be this lengthy or tangencial oops can you tell i’m obsessed. terminally ill even

[whumpacabra]

36. Hush

Anticipated recapture, anticipated violence, anticipated nonconsensual drugging, past trauma, implied past dubcon, implied past nonconsensual drugging, stabbing, medical setting, military setting

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

Wolf wasn’t restrained.

(Anders knew he wouldn’t run. Wouldn’t even try.)

He paced the room; the blinds were drawn to keep out the oppressive sunlight. Only the humming fluorescents above kept the private hospital room lit.

(Just like a cell. Just like the bunker. Just like home.)

Wolf shivered. It seemed colder here, alone in a room. Even wearing the most clothes he had in days, there was a chill in his bones.

(He was going back back back - )

The halls here were quieter. The walls had better insulation. Rarely did a voice carry far enough that his enhanced hearing could pick up on it, and what few footsteps tread past his room walked at a leisurely pace. A far cry from the bustling and loud hallways of the general infirmary below.

Which made the military boots marching toward his room all the more anxiety inducing.

(Was Smith taking him back personally? Did Elias or the other soft hearted naive idiots think they could save him?)

He turned to the door, standing at the ready with his arms behind himself. He swallowed back his panicked, pathetic tears. Wolf needed to hold it together. A few more hours and he would be right where he started. (With Anders too close for comfort - )

The door clicked as it unlocked, slammed opened and closed with a frantic urgency. Wolf’s heart dropped with recognition. It was one of the soldiers that had beaten him days ago. His fatigue read, ‘Gale,’ but Wolf hadn’t been able to read that bloodied and kneeling and remembering Smith -

“We need to have a little chat, you and me.” Gale said, voice low and furtive.

Wolf stayed quiet, half shocked to silence and half trembling in terror. This didn’t seem to be the response Gale wanted; the soldier roughly led him by the shoulder to the bed, pushing him down to sit. Every muscle in Wolf’s body was tense with anticipation, with memory of what Anders or Smith would want next -

“Do you know Anders?”

The intensity of Gale’s question was tempered with the confusion in his eyes. Wolf glanced up at him, trying to understand what he wanted, before looking back down to the floor.

“Yessir. I met him yesterday - ”

“No, I mean - does he know you? From before?”

(Why was that important to Gale? What could he possible know, possible suspect?)

“…no, sir.” Wolf’s voice was unsteady and soft. (Unconvincing.)

Gale snarled in frustration, tearing away to pace back and forth along the length of the bed.

“Something’s up with him. Or Briggs. Or both. I get put on discharge notice and suddenly I’m back on duty? And now Anders is giving me polite little orders like I’m his fucking dog? I was gonna go to Briggs because at she actually has some fucking authority to tell me what the hell to do, but he - he’s so fucking weird about you. Security or not my CO should know what the fuck I’m doing, even if you’re under his jurisdiction, right?”

Gale rambled on, Wolf watching with gradually increasing horror and understanding. Anders wanted to do something to Wolf before they left. Something he didn’t want Briggs to know about. Which was fine - Wolf agreed to this - but it was uncharacteristically reckless for Anders.

(Did Smith find out about his escape attempt in spite of the agent’s promises? Was he going to be liquidated and this was Anders’ last chance to have him before - ?)

“Do you know what the fuck this is?” Gale produced a prefilled syringe, still capped and sterile. The liquid inside shimmered even under the dull fluorescent lighting. Wolf couldn’t help the way his face tensed at the sight. Anders loved his ambrosia as much as Wolf hated it.

“…no, sir.” Another unconvincing lie. He needed to get Gale out of here, to calm down and just do as Anders told him before -

“Stay quiet.” A voice hissed through Wolf’s implants. His heart squeezed and goosebumps broke out across his skin. Anders was hearing this. Anders knew Gale wasn’t being cooperative. A familiar gait and soft soled shoes were drawing closer to the room.

The door opened and closed, slowly and silently, behind Gale, who continued to rave.

“Exactly! Fucker won’t tell me what the hell I’m supposed to dose you with. Too fucking early to be a sedative for transit unless you’re leaving a lot sooner than planned - for all I know it could kill you and I’m not taking the fall for those CIA shitheads - ”

Anders moved with practiced brutality, driving a stolen scalpel into Gale’s side with one gloved hand and clamping his other over the soldier’s mouth to muffle his startled shriek of pain. Wolf simply sat frozen, eyes wide and breaths short. Gale met his eyes with his own frenzied terror.

Anger. Betrayal. Understanding.

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

Taglist: @stargeode @genuineformality @i-eat-worlds @light-me-on-pyre @risk606 @sacredwrath

[whumblr]

Skip ahead

Desperate tears already streamed over their cheeks. Whumpee backed up a step, nowhere else to go. The man in front of them effectively blocked off their one escape route. Fighting him wasn't even worth considering. Running wouldn't work. They were cornered in every sense of the word.

"P-please..." The plea was barely more than a puff of air. They tried again, cursing how feeble and pathetic their voice came out: "Please. Don't take me back."

"Oh, love..." Whumper stepped forward and carefully reached out. The grip on their chin however was anything but. Whumpee shuddered when they felt the familiar pattern of bruises forming. "We're just talking, we're barely even talking..." He brushed a thumb up, catching a drop of salt, "And you're already such a mess."

Whumpee couldn't do a thing but give a nod and a sniffle, avoiding the piercing gaze.

With a soft sigh, Whumper let go of them.

"Well, if you don't want me to take you back..." He reached behind him and Whumpee nearly buckled in fear when he revealed the gun. Whumper grabbed them by the neck, keeping them from falling over, keeping them close, and crooned: "I can understand if you want to skip all the pain and suffering. I do."

He teased the gun up, watched as their eyes followed his every moment, noticed how their breathing stopped when he pressed it into the soft underside of their chin.

"We could just," he whispered, "skip ahead? To the main event?"

The gun gave a distinct click, the front sight dug uncomfortably into their skin as he tilted the gun to press the muzzle up, aiming at their brain. "No... No, please."

"I mean, we'll get there eventually, so--"

"No!"

"So you'll come with me."

It wasn't a question. Whumpee swallowed hard, another stream of tears streaking down. "Y-yes..."

The pressure under their chin disappeared. A breath released as if said pressure had been blocking their air.

Another click as the gun switched back to safety, releasing the clasp on their muscles, and Whumper put it back into its holster. The grip on their neck, however, only increased, and he lightly nudged them along.

"Good choice."

-

General whump tag: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion

@auroragehenna @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop

[blasphemousclaw]

I’ve been seeing a lot of people argue that Radahn would never agree to Miquella’s plans because he loves the Golden Order and would never want to replace it… but I think there are some nuances about the current state of the Golden Order that call that assumption into question?

The first thing to know about Radahn is that he’s defined by his idealization of Godfrey and his reign as Elden Lord. His lion armor is an explicit tribute to him, and he tries to emulate the “Lord of the Battlefield’s” martial prowess and heroic, honorable nature. When looking at the iconography associated with Radahn, it is always directly tied to Godfrey alone.

But Godfrey isn’t here anymore, he was banished… and the current state of the Golden Order is now extremely culturally different than it had been under his rule. The crucible and those associated with it gradually became less and less accepted, and more and more “disdained as an impurity as civilization advanced.” Godfrey’s crucible knights used to be heroes, and it’s even implied that they were the very face of the colosseums’ ritual combat… the Ritual Sword Talisman is “patterned after swords used in ritual combat held to honor the Erdtree,” and it’s the exact same design as Crucible Knight Ordovis’s sword:

so there’s this connection between the colosseums under Godfrey’s reign and the crucible.

But, in the present day, both the crucible knights and the colosseums have fallen by the wayside: “In time, the strength shown by these knights, and even their appearance, was seen as chaotic and deserving of scorn,” and regarding ritual combat, “the practice had died out by the age of King Consort Radagon.”

We do in fact see these hallmarks of Godfrey’s reign in association with Radahn as well — from Freyja’s backstory, we know that Radahn first met her by watching her fight as a gladiator at the colosseum (probably the one in Caelid!). And there’s a boss fight at Redmane castle with a Crucible Knight and a (red-haired!) Leonine Misbegotten! It’s also worth nothing that Godfrey, his crucible knights, and Consort Radahn all share the same earth-stomp move! Another interesting point is that Godfrey is associated with lions (Beast-Regent Serosh), and of course Radahn wears lion armor inspired by this, but there is also a Lion Guardian enemy at Redmane castle that has horns:

the old crucible society of the Hornsent revered the horned lion above all…

and Radahn, the “Lord of the Battlefield’s lion,” gains horns after being resurrected in Mohg’s body… literally becoming a horned lion!

I think it means something that Radahn is associated again and again with these symbols of the OLD Golden Order and the crucible… the time when Godfrey ruled, the crucible still flourished, and glorious combat reigned supreme. Yes, Radahn is absolutely defined by nostalgia and trying to recapture the glory of an old age… but I think this is actually a reason for him to OPPOSE the current Order, because now all the things he loved and admired about it are GONE! Indeed, there’s no evidence that Radahn made any attempt to preserve the current Order during the Shattering, and Morgott considers him to be a “willful traitor” with the rest of his siblings!

Does this mean that I think Radahn planned to be where he is with Miquella at the end of the dlc? Not necessarily, and I personally am really skeptical that where he ended up was entirely of his own choosing… I just think that the logic of assuming Radahn would want to preserve the Order in its current state is flawed, because the differences between Godfrey’s reign and Radagon’s reign are quite significant!

[yunaversalluv]

⋆.˚ ★— Focus Pull

ᴀ ɪɴᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄɪᴀɴ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ x ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ��� ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜᴇʀ!ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆.˚ ★— Focus Pull m.list

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ `౨ৎ~

Weeks after a single photo changes everything, silence lingers where connection once sparked. When a message finally comes through, two people meet again — not in the spotlight, but in the quiet, where honesty has room to breathe and something unspoken waits just beneath the surface.

cw for this chapter// fame/internet virality anxiety, emotional vulnerability, implied anxiety/insomnia, mild language, intense emotional tension

please know that there might be spelling errors!

taglist - @miajooz @talyaisvalslutsoldier @lesoulew @elliespotion @valeisaslut @mariesmagix @eriiwaiii2 @liztreez @re1daway @wrappedinvines

CHAPTER THREE - STATIC

It’s been weeks.

Weeks since the photo.

Weeks since your inbox cracked open like a floodgate, spilling over with messages you weren’t prepared for. 

Since your name became tethered to the sound of a voice you’d only just heard live for the first time. Since your art — the quiet, low-lit kind that lives in the edges of the frame, always watching but never watched — was suddenly thrust, howling, into the blinding spotlight of an internet that never asked your permission. The internet hasn’t let go of her. Or of you

. That image of Ellie — raw, beautiful — is everywhere now. People have torn it apart, picked it clean, rebuilt a thousand versions of her with their words, their filters, their projections. They turned her into a symbol, a scream, a shrine.

And still — silence.

Ellie’s message remains buried in your inbox like a landmine, humming with potential. Ellie:Why were you staring so long?You’d replied quickly. Too quickly, maybe. You:You looked like you wanted the camera to flinch.Her response came fast, like a spark across dry leaves. Ellie:It didn’t.You didn’t.

You guys texted and texted. But nothing progressed.

After a pattern had started to form — you two texting… nothing. Not the next day. Not for weeks.

You kept shooting, of course. The show must go on. Different venues, different nights. Your lens clicking away, mechanical and steady, trying to recapture something you couldn’t quite name. But none of it felt the same.

Every frame since that photo felt like a second draft of something that had already lived and died in a single shutter click.

You could almost hear the difference — the static that filled the silence between you and that one perfect moment.

And Ellie? She hasn’t reached out again. You told yourself it was fine. You didn’t need her to. But the truth? The truth is sharp. It lingers in the corners of your mind like a splinter you can’t reach.

The truth is: you’ve been checking. Not obsessively. Not every minute.Just enough. Her page. Your inbox. That still-open thread. Enough to feel the quiet ache of it.

Across the city, Ellie hasn’t slept.

Not really.

She’s tried. Her pillows sag beneath her head like wet paper. The static from a half-muted TV glows in the corner, washing the walls in flickering gray-blue light. Her guitar lays across her ribs like a shield, or a secret — its weight more comforting than the silence.

The same four chords, over and over. Muted strings beneath her fingers until they ache. But sleep? It’s distant. Sharp-edged and glassy, hovering just beyond her reach.

It’s hard to sleep when the internet won’t stop dragging your name like a body on fire — pulled through dirt, through pixels, through the acid commentary of strangers who think they know you because they saw your eyes in one unguarded second. Her phone buzzes again. This time it’s on the floor beside the bed. The sound slices through the quiet like a knife.

She doesn’t want to look. But her hand moves anyway. Another edit of the photo.

The one where her eyes are too wide, too knowing. Locked on the lens with something feral. Animal. Raw.

Her skin crawls just looking at it. Her chest tightens, ribs aching from the inside like something’s trying to claw its way out. She scrolls. She shouldn’t. But she does.

Captions like: “bite me pls queen”“holy rage incarnate”“this is what heartbreak sounds like if it grew teeth.”

And nestled among the noise, one sticks:

@mossandmercury: “Caption this: I want you to see me, but only how I say.”

Ellie reads it twice.

Doesn’t like how much it sticks.

Doesn’t like how true it feels — how closely it echoes the thing she’s been carrying since your lens found her. Since you saw her. Really saw her.

She tosses the phone aside. The screen still glows, a blue halo in the dark.

The room smells like dust and stolen motel soap. Light cuts through the blinds in jagged, white-hot interrogation lines, slashing across her feet, across her thoughts.

The kettle moans from the counter — a tired, wounded sound, like it’s straining under its own weight.

Ellie drifts toward the kitchenette. Shoulders tense. Bare feet whispering across cold tile. Her thumb hovers. Your profile sits open — too intimate, too exposed, like a journal she shouldn’t be reading.

She scrolls through your feed.

No selfies. No poses.

Just light and texture. Grainy film. Half-silhouettes paused in motion. Moments that feel stolen, not staged. Honest. Quiet. A kind of truth no one demands — but one you offer anyway. A single line in your bio:

low light makes me honest.

Whatever that means.

But it fits. It fits her. It fits you — or at least the version of you that saw her clearly enough to haunt her still.

She swipes to the DM thread. Still open. Still pulsing like a bruise. Weeks old now. Still fresh. Ellie types slowly, deliberately. Each word a weight.

you free tonight

Her thumb hovers. Then — send.

She sets the phone face-down on the bed like it might burn through her if she stares too long.

The kettle screams. And her chest — tight, coiled like piano wire — doesn’t loosen.

Not fear.

Not nerves.

Just that low, restless thrum again. Like something’s about to change.

Back in your apartment, the message arrives mid-edit.

you free tonight

No punctuation. No context. Just three words.

Your stomach flips. You sit back in your chair. The world seems to fold inward — the hum of the computer, the distant sound of traffic. Coffee long gone cold beside you. Your screen mid-swipe on someone else’s face — someone who isn’t her — already forgotten.

You type: Depends. You planning on killing me, or thanking me?

The reply is instant.

Ellie:That depends.Can you meet me where no one’s watching?

The room feels like it’s holding its breath.

Ellie’s apartment — if it counts as one — is small.

Lived-in. Quiet. Cozy in a way that feels fragile, like one wrong move could scatter the spell.

Dim lamplight pools across the floor in soft amber, stretching long shadows across her carpet. The air smells faintly of coffee grounds and something sweet that’s long since cooled. It smells like mornings she hasn’t had in weeks.

It’s just the two of you.

A bubble untouched by the noise outside.

She’s on the couch — threadbare and familiar — her guitar resting on the arm like a sentinel. Her fingers trace the strings without sound, muscle memory moving in loops. Her knee bounces, betraying the calm her face is trying to wear.

You sit across from her. The distance between you: too much for comfort, too little for certainty.

Neither of you speaks. There’s too much to say. Neither of you knows where to begin.

You glance at her. Catch her eyes. She looks away. You wonder if she feels it too — that slow, magnetic pull drawing you closer and holding you apart all at once.

The air feels heavy. Charged. Like if you speak too loud, it might all fall apart. Say nothing, and it might disappear.

Ellie shifts. Her fingers ghost along the guitar’s neck, her gaze unfocused. “You’ve… been quiet,” she says finally. Her voice is low, like it doesn’t want to wake the moment.

You swallow. “I was just thinking. About everything, I guess.” She nods. Her lips part, then close again. She leans back, posture curling inward. There’s a softness to her now — not weakness, but vulnerability. A space opening.

“I didn’t ask for all this,” she says. Tight. “It’s… weird, you know? Being seen like that. By everyone. By you.” She stops. Her fingers pause on the guitar. The strings hum beneath her touch, low and uneven.

You watch her — the tension in her throat, the conflict in her eyes. She’s holding something back. Fear. Hope. You’re not sure which.

“I didn’t mean to make it feel so…” You search for the right shape. “So personal.”

Her eyes meet yours. And for a moment, it’s there — the weight of it. The gravity.

But neither of you moves. Not yet.

“I don’t think I mind,” you admit. Your voice is soft, but steady. Honest.

Ellie’s breath catches. The world stills. Her eyes soften — just enough to crack your composure.

“You’ve been… on my mind,” she says. Her voice is thin, trembling. “A lot. Since the photo.”

Your heartbeat stumbles. “Mine too.”

She watches you — unreadable. Then: a small, shy smile. Not quite reaching her eyes. But real.

“Yeah?” she murmurs, like she’s asking for permission to believe it.

You nod. Slowly.

The room seems to exhale.

She shifts — closer now. Just enough. Enough to feel her presence like static in the air, like heat building beneath the skin.

Her hand brushes yours. You both freeze. The silence between you blooms with electricity.

Then, quietly — “I don’t know what happens now.”

You smile, gentle. “I don’t either.”

But the way she looks at you — the way her eyes linger — says everything else.

There’s something here. You’re both reaching for it. Even if you can’t name it yet.

The heaviness hasn’t gone. But it’s not all weight now.

It feels like a promise.

And maybe, just maybe — That’s enough for now.

[kroosluvr]

yay!!!!!!!

typo that im too lazy to fix: on the last page, "kasumi was one of the best gymnasts [in japan]"

edit: BRO I IDDNT REALIZE AKIRA ND SUMIRE WERE SHARING A SPOON TO EAT THE CURRY AM I INSANEEEEE <- She literally drew this image

1st 2 pics are genderbent akira+goro as well as sumire, 3rd pic is canon akira and sumire

in my head m!sumire is dedicated to rhythmic gymnastics, but the fact that it's not a popular sport somehow causes a mental block for him: kasumi was a trailblazer in men's rhythmic gymnastics. he was setting the course, but now he's gone. so does sumire live up to that? does he have to fill his brother's shoes? or can he just strive to be the best rhythmic gymnast he himself can be?

he was always solemn and driven growing up, but after the accident, he drove himself further into his practices and routines in an attempt to "recapture the spark" that kasumi had. of course, this is mostly in vain... chasing his shadow doesn't get him anywhere

he slowly develops the cognition of "sumire" being "kasumi's replacement." the younger brother that stepped up to the plate. to attend to his anxiety/depression he goes to dr. maruki (i'd say this takes longer than in canon, because he was always so busy with practice that he didn't really. comprehend 'oh perhaps i need counseling after my brother died' LMAO. and even then it's more "ok im gonna start competing internationally, so i need to make sure my mental is in tiptop shape"

he starts to reveal his insecurities to dr. maruki who. yknow. does all that. i don't think this sumire would specifically say "i wish i was kasumi" but more "i want to continue his legacy the way only he could have done it" which dr. maruki himself takes as "ok so u want to literally be kasumi"

i'd also say his "transformation" into "kasumi" is more jarring than in canon? canon "kasumi" is polite, eager, cheerful and sunny, but i imagine m!"kasumi" to be more boisterous, more outwardly outgoing/extroverted/outspoken, a little bit of a daredevil

on top of that, i think (perhaps) since men's rhythmic gymnastics isn't super popular, maybe not many ppl have heard of "kasumi yoshizawa" to begin with? so maybe ppl accept him as "kasumi" a little easier, which is. um. bad LOL

not sure if this helps his gymnastics at all. i thinkkk it does give him the confidence to execute more complicated routines that sumire himself didn't have the self-confidence to try before. but, of course, this doesn't affect anything in the rhythmic gymnastics world since. erm. everyone knows kasumi died. awkward!!!!

i think the shame would be all-encompassing when he breaks out of the delusion. he never wanted this.... all he wants is to keep competing with his brother, to keep supporting him into the limelight, and he'll never have that again. so i think, like canon, his arc is learning how to support and uplift Himself -- but more like, become more self-sufficient in terms of his own gymnastics instead of always seeing himself as second place to kasumi (and being okay with that)

it's different than canon as kasumi always told sumire they'd take the world stage... TOGETHER! ->

while i think for m!kasumi and m!sumire they worked in tandem, it was never really a dream. kasumi simply decided "i want to do this" and so did sumire. the thing is, kasumi's skills just far outweighed sumire's, and that much was painfully clear to him. kasumi was one who could bring men's rhythmic gymnastics into the international lens, and sumire has no idea if he could ever be strong enough to do that.

there's an interesting sort of dissonance here....... like. big fish small pond (genderbend au) or small fish big pond (canonverse.) i think its interesting.. okay enough rambles from me its 4am sdjsdjfh

edit: last thing i think. in canon it’s heavily implied that kasumi took the reins and pushed sumire to do stuff / pick out clothes for them both / kinda set the stage for both of them but i think in gb au sumire just follows kasumi as a result of kasumi being such a bright light. sumire has ambitions the same way kasumi does but he lacks the self-esteem to back it up…. it’s similar in canon but not 1:1 if that makes sense? i think in canon sumire is still questioning if it’s even her dream to compete in gymnastics so that’s the main diff

[sparrowsage]

Warehouse Drabble: Unsettling Reality - Alex's POV

So, I saw a prompt on here that someone reblogged and it gave me inspiration for this piece! It's set three days after this piece. I also wanted to write Sparrow's POV for this conversation as well and you can find it here. Hope y'all enjoy it! Also, a huge thank you for @oddsconvert for the usage of her oc's Ronan, Henley and Izaak from her series A Taste of Your Own Medicine!

TW: kidnapping implied, reference to past kidnapping, vague reference to past trafficking

“Hello?” Alex said, running his free hand through his hair. It had been a long day at the hospital; he had been too absorbed in his thoughts about Sparrow. He had gone missing three days prior and both Alex and Felix had been a mess trying to work with the FBI on finding him as soon as possible. 

“This is Alex Sharpe, yes?” the voice over the phone asked, his voice low and a bit husky. It reminded Alex of Dr. Greyston and he couldn’t help but frown at the memory of him. 

“It is, yes. Is there something I can help you with?” 

There was a short chuckle on the other end of the line that made the hairs on the back of Alex’s neck stand up. 

“Not really, you’ve been enough help. I just wanted to call and thank you personally for taking such good care of my little Songbird. If it weren’t for you, he’d be dead in a ditch somewhere.” 

Alex was frozen in his chair, his heart pounding. Songbird. Damon’s nickname for Sparrow. 

The doctor grabbed a notepad and a pen as quietly as he could from the corner of his desk, his hands starting to shake, almost too afraid to speak. 

Damon took Alex’s silence as recognition and chuckled again. “I take it you know who I am, that’s good.” 

“I do, yes,” Alex responded slowly. “How’d you get this number?” 

“I have my ways, Dr. Sharpe. How goes the search? I’m sure you’ve gotten some kind of lead on your patient by now.” 

Damon’s remark and patronizing tone made Alex grit his teeth, but his words confirmed his suspicion on where Sparrow was. Felix, Henley and himself had hoped it wasn’t the case, but at least now there could be some kind of lead, even though no one knew where this facility was. 

“It’s going as well as one would expect,” he responded, writing down the time and date in his notepad. “Why are you calling me? Isn’t it a risky move? For all you know, the police are tracing this call.” 

Damon let out a huff of amusement, “You and I both know that is a lie. The FBI isn’t that smart, not this early on in the game. As to why I’m calling? It’s like I said, I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of Sparrow while he was away. There were countless times while he was in your care that he almost took it too far, but you stepped in and made sure that he didn’t.” 

How on Earth could he possibly know about that, Alex thought. They had been at the hospital, which Alex, up to this point, thought was a pretty secure and safe place. He jotted down a small note about it on his notepad as he managed to stop himself from asking how Damon knew about what he and Sparrow had worked through, his mouth hanging open slightly as he tried to find something else to say. 

“I was merely doing my job. He wouldn’t have gone to those lengths if you and the others hadn't treated him the way that you did.” 

“We were merely teaching him what his purpose on this Earth is. I do have to say though, you have given me quite a lot to fix now that he’s back where he belongs. You’ve set back his training a fair bit, but it’ll be righted soon enough.” 

Alex’s whole body was shaking now, doing all that he could to keep his cool. It felt like he was being baited, almost like the Keeper wanted him to lash out. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

“It won’t last long,” he said finally. “The FBI will find you and shut that place down-”

“Oh, will they?” Damon cut in. “Are you banking on Henley remembering where this place is?” 

“How do you-,” Alex started, his composure slipping. 

“I know a lot of things, Dr. Sharpe. Henley’s owner took measures to prevent both him and Izaak from ever knowing where this place is. Any lead you manage to find, it’ll go cold within days. It would be in your best interest to forget about your patient. He’s back where he belongs and will stay here.” There was a pause, and all Alex could hear was the faint sound of walking before he heard a few low groans in the background as Damon stopped walking. “Have a good night, Dr. Sharpe.” 

Alex was about to say something, but there was a click on the other end before the line went dead. 

Alex stayed frozen in his seat for a couple minutes after the line went dead, not knowing what to do, his body refusing to move no matter how hard Alex willed it to do so. 

He was terrified, to say the least. The groans he heard at the end of the call, they sounded like Sparrow and the doctor’s heart was in pieces knowing he was back with that bastard, enduring only god knows what at the Keeper’s hand. 

It took Alex a bit before he could move again, writing down everything he could about the phone call before he forgot. Once he had everything written down, he picked up his phone again, dialing the number an FBI agent had given him the day before with shaking hands, holding his phone up to his ear as it rang, praying the agent would answer at this hour. Hopefully they could help now that it was confirmed where Sparrow was. 

Taglist: @mannerofwhump, @honey-is-mesi, @painful-pooch, @whumperfully, @hiding-in-the-shadows, @flowersarefreetherapy, @goronska, @blueyellow8green, @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, @whumpcereal, (If you'd like to be added, let me know!)

[sleepyiswhumping]

anyone else thought about kisses in whump? theres potential for a bit of fluff/angst/creepiness

[although it isnt always the case, whumpee x caretaker is implied as a possibility for quite a bit of these]

caretaker giving whumpee a soft kiss on the forehead when theyre sick/exhausted/injured

(if theyre partners) whumpee and caretaker sharing their first kiss after a long time separated, probably due to whumper

a goodbye kiss, on the lips, on the forehead, wherever. maybe whumpee or caretaker is leaving the other for a bit (to get meds for a sick other?), maybe its a desperate, last sign of love between the two as whumper recaptures whumpee, [mcd] maybe whumpee or caretaker is kissing the other goodbye as one of them dies, a last "i love you"

whumper kissing whumpee, as a sign of possession, faking a relationship in public, or just being awful and creepy

whumpee kissing whumper, maybe before they know how awful whumper is, maybe playing along with the fake relationship, whatever

idk i find kissing in whump fun no matter the reason behind it bc no matter the reason it has potential for something delicious

[thatflowerthemeddragon]

I know a lot of us ask “how does Sebastian eat”, but has any of us asked how does he drink?

I imagine that there are probably lots of different ways he could get a drink like say for example some of the water coolers that are scattered around in some of the corridors but how do we know that they aren’t empty. We could say the same thing about him eating with the various vending machines around and how he might not eat from them because they’re either empty or the food has gone out of date inside.

There is also water inside of the various test tubes inside the blacksite but I’d imagine that it’s not exactly safe drinking water inside them.

Another point I’d like to add is that there are also ways Sebastian could get clean, drinkable water from taps like in the shower rooms or the sinks in the bathrooms but what stops urbanshade from just shutting off the water supply to the blacksite. It would be more cost effective if they were to shut off the water as well.

We know that the blacksite has a sewer system and this could imply that they also have a water filtration system but again they could have also shut that off as well. Also the water outside the facility would be salt water and it’s a lot more tedious to filter salt water than it is for water that’s from a stream. Perhaps Sebastian created his own filtration system for the water later down the line after he realises that he has a limited supply of things to drink.

Now a question that will probably be asked is, why would urbanshade shut off the water but not the power to save money during the blacksite lockdown. Well there is one main reason, shutting off the water would cause no detriment to the retrieval of the crystal but shutting off the power would, therefore why wouldn’t they shut that needless cost off. Another thing is that shutting off the water limits a precious resource from the people trapped inside the blacksite thereby causing the slow death of some trapped within or causing them to leave and be recaptured.