#meet the caretakers!
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little-pondhead · 1 year ago
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Classic "promised-at-birth-to-the-Ghost-King" story, except the contract never states how, exactly, the King is to use the offered soul. Usually, one would be offered as a bride or sacrifice. But with Pariah Dark sealed away, his retainers got a little lazy in the last few millennia. They just made some generic contracts and practically handed them out like candy.
When Danny took over as king via conquest, that included all the weird and messed up soul contracts the previous retainers had signed. And since ghost magic was a thing and seemed to have it out for Danny personally, many of these contracts updated their terms and conditions as soon as that crown hit Danny's head, reflecting the new King's subconscious desires and personality.
This caused many issues with those still around to profit from these contracts. Some people lost their power, some gained more, and some were unbound and kicked to the curb. A few special people found themselves dropping dead after their less-than-ethical abilities disappeared.
Danny was unaware of the chaos he had unintentionally caused for quite a while. It was only brought to his attention when a letter arrived on his desk one day with a copy of someone's valid contract enclosed. The new changes have been highlighted, and a separate note is attached.
It seems that in exchange for blessings of near-immortality for her infant son, a mother had offered Pariah Dark both their souls in order to ensure her child's survival during harsh times. (The souls were to be collected upon death and were to be used as soldiers in the King's Army.) The mother's soul had returned to the Keep decades ago and was recently assigned to tend to the gardens, while her son seemed to have grown into a fine gentleman and was still alive. He used his mother's gifts to serve his country and loved ones well, it seemed.
At first, Danny didn't see what any of this had to do with him. If the mother was already a part of his kingdom, and the son would be eventually, why was a letter about the whole thing showing up before him?
Then he read the revised contract, which bore his magical signature. A signature that overruled the power of Pariah and binding it to him.
'...and as such, in return for the abilities stated above, [Mary Pennyworth] and [Alfred Pennyworth] will fulfill the conditions detailed below, upon pain of Ending.
[Mary Pennyworth], when returned to the Kingdom of Dark Kingdom of Stars, will work as a lieutenant in the Skeleton Army caretaker in the Gardens of Pluto.
STATUS: COMPLETED
[Alfred Pennyworth], when returned to the Kingdom of Dark Kingdom of Stars, will work as a general in the Skeleton Army caretaker of the King and his Court.
STATUS: PENDING'
Danny had to re-read the contract several times to understand what it was saying. He now had a caretaker? What did a caretaker do? Was it like a ghost parent? Could this guy ghost-ground him??
He sighed and pressed the speed dial on his phone for Tucker. Time to find out who the hell this Alfred Pennyworth guy was, and how to break a magic contract when it wasn't even fulfilled yet.
Meanwhile, Alfred had just found the original copy of the contract amongst his mother's belongings after it glowed and drew him in. The paperwork cleared up a lot of mysteries he'd always wondered about himself, even if he disapproved of his mother's methods. Nonetheless, he smoothed out the aged paper with dark green ink, noted the fresh (sloppy, a teenager?) signature, and began preparing to meet this supposed new King and his Court.
It wouldn't hurt to make introductions before he died, after all.
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lunarharp · 7 months ago
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..polly pocket au.. (<- a type of doll.)
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whumpitisthen · 3 months ago
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Two whumpees who are scared of each other:
Neither of them want trouble
They are both so afraid of being near the other they avoid each other constantly
They flinch away at the slightest touch like one person and their mirror image
They are strangers, they do not trust each other, they have been burned too many times in the past and they will not be burned again
They stare at each other from a distance, not daring to actually interact
They want to avoid a fight so bad that they won't even say a word
Whumper loves seeing them together because it's amusing how similar they are
Their uneasiness around the other is promptly forgotten when Whumper arrives
Whumpee can't have friends; Whumper doesn't want them to, and we all know what happens when Whumper sees Whumpee doing something they don't like
If hungry enough, they can be bribed with food to spend time in the other's vicinity
Non-human whumpees?! Two puppy boys being very nervous with pulled back ears and big sad eyes hiding behind their owner's legs
One Whumpee lives here and in theory should be more confident than the other one, seeing as they aren't the one in a strange unknown place. That confidence flees as soon as the Other Whumpee takes even a single step in their direction. They do not want to fight, they just want to keep an eye on them at all times.
They flinch back and the other one flinches back too. They cannot stop doing this
Caretaker basically has to pretend with each of them that the other doesn't exist. If they mentioned that their counterpart is in the room right across from them, Whumpee would not be able to sleep.
They sleep as far away from each other as the room they are kept in allows, backs to the wall, staying awake until they can't anymore
I think Whumper should collar them and bind them together with a short length of chain. For enrichment purposes... For me
One of them starts to finally unwind and gently tries to connect with the other. The other does Not react well. They are both scared again
One Whumpee has a lot of scars — must be a fighter -> scary
The Other Whumpee has no scars — must be a Really Good fighter -> scary
Whumpee looks just like the Other — must be just as desperate and unpredictable/their whumper must be just as bad/they must be at a similar level of strength as them, no guarantee to win if fight breaks out -> scary
One whumpee is scared because they have been tortured into perpetual fearfulness — the other has never been tortured, but sees how bad Whumpee has it, and being the newest addition to Whumper's collection has them just as terrified
Whumper forces them to interact. The forceful, scary nature of their meetings sets back their otherwise slow natural warming up to each other by miles, having the worst kind of counter effect. Seeing the other reminds them of that time Whumper made them sit and hold hands for hours with the threat of punishment if they disobeyed
They both escape. They see each other across the street. They freeze and stare, thrust back in time, stuck in their old frightened and cautious headspace. Their caretakers are perplexed.
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whiskeyandcigarsmoke · 3 months ago
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This isn't meant to be good, it just needed to be written. Just trying to figure myself out thru writing about Logan.
"Stare"
*Post Void*
There are days where Wade will wake up and Logan will just be sitting in front of one of the windows, staring silently. He's so still and silent that if not for the occasional flicker of his eyelashes and subtle rising of his chest, he could very well be a statue. He doesn't respond to Wade’s normal teasing banter. No side eyes, no glare, no snarling or snapping. He acknowledges Wade with a turn of his head, but goes right back to his thousand yard stare. The stare of a man who's lived a lifetime far too long. Wade tries to talk to him, but gets nowhere. He used to Logan not speaking sonetimes, but he'll still communicate via grunts, huffs, and growls. Plus his non-verbal communication is always present. But today all of that is shut off. Logan is a blank, silent slate. Wade gives up trying to talk to him, but keeps an eye on him as the day progresses. He brings him a cup of coffee, setting it next to him on the end table next to Logan’s chair. Checking on him a couple of hours later, he finds the mug still full of now cold coffee. Dumping it in the sink, he returns to Logan’s side with a glass of water and one of Logan's cigars. Setting them both down on the table, he ruffles Logan’s hair and kisses the top of his head. Looking down, he sees a few stray tears slowly sliding down Logan’s cheek. Wordlessly, Wade wipes them away and gives the older man a kiss on the forehead. He decides to give Logan some space and privacy for a few hours, leaving him alone with his thoughts in the apartment. Returning later in the evening with takeout, he picks up the smell of cigar smoke and while Logan is still in the same spot that he left him in, he did at least smoke a bit and drank some of the water. Wade will consider that an improvement. Putting the takeout on the counter, he goes over to check on Logan. He was asleep and snoring softly. Wade figured him the smell of food didn't wake Logan up, it would be best to let sleeping dogs lie. An hour later had Logan rousing from his sleep and finally getting up from his chair. Grabbing his cigar, he crawled out onto the fire escape to finish smoking it while Wade re heats their food. Returning to the apartment, Logan saddles up to Wade, hugging him from behind. Pressing his nose to the back of the younger man's neck, he took in a deep, slow breath and rested his head on Wade's shoulder. A soft, low thrum began rolling thru his chest, filling Wade's diaphragm with Logan’s gratitude and thanks. Holding him closely a few more minutes, he placed a sweet, soft kiss on Wade's cheek before letting him go. Picking up his food, Logan walked over to the couch and sat down in his usual spot. After flicking the tv on, he looked to Wade and back to the spot next to him and repeated the cycle. Knowing what Logan wanted, Wade grabbed his own food and sat next to the silent Mutant. Scooting closer, Logan leaned into Wade's side, getting comfortable before eating his food. With the man's weight pushing into him, Wade smiled, happy Logan was learning to be comfortable leaning on Wade when he really needed it. Both emotionally and physically.
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honeycollectswhump · 4 months ago
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more on grief. the symptoms.
the feeling overwhelming you at random times of the day, without warning. suddenly you are stuck crying and gasping for breath.
your stomach cramps every time you think about them. it makes you want to vomit. nothing really helps and it can kill your appetite.
you are constantly tired, no amount of sleep seems to be enough. you could sleep for a thousand years and maybe you wish you could.
no matter what you are doing and how happy you are, they are always on your mind. you ruminate and ruminate if there was anything you could have done differently. you think about all the things you should have done.
grief alienates and isolates you. it feels like people can’t understand, there is no right words to calm you down.
you will hate yourself for this but sometimes you feel so powerless you wish you would have never been put in this situation. even if that means never knowing that person. you don’t really mean it though you are just desperate.
you can grieve people that are still alive
your grief can project in other things and situations. your mood can drop quickly. you can overreact or be aggressive and abrasive. this alienates you further
people will tell you to distance yourself. you cannot.
feel free to torment your blorbos with this
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whump-galaxy · 4 months ago
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The whumpee trying new mobility aids. They help, somewhat. But the more they use them, the more they hurt.
Crutches bruise their armpits and misalign their hips. Canes cause wrist pain, eventually causing their entire arm to get too tired to use it. A wheelchair requires upper body strength they haven’t quite honed yet.
They wonder if it’s worth it to even use one if they’d be in pain anyways.
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sicktember · 3 months ago
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We, @yes-i-am-happyaspie and @obsessionoftheday , have been discussing making Sicktember 2024 our last year for quite some time. Long enough that we considered making 2023 out last year… Not because we haven’t enjoyed being a part of such a spectacular event. Interacting with all of you has been amazing and coming up with new and exciting prompts has been great fun. However, we have reached a point where we feel we are no longer capable of offering the event the amount of time and attention it requires and deserves. 
The good news is, just because we are stepping back doesn’t mean Sicktember will be coming to an end. After much thought and consideration, we decided it would be in everyone’s best interest to pass the blog over to a new mod. We are certain they are up to the task and we are looking forward to seeing where they take Sicktember in the future. We hope you are too!
Without further ado, we’d like to introduce you to our Sicktember successor. 
Starting October 8th, @itsmechara426 will be running the Sicktember blog!
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Hi everyone! I’m Alex from @itsmechara426, though I’m better known for my prompts blog, @irondadmadlads
Despite rarely participating in Sicktember as a writer, I love reading all the stories you guys come up with! Everyone is so creative and I’d like to continue inspiring your creativity by running this event!
I’m excited to continue Sicktember and can’t wait to see everyone’s ideas!
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spicyraeman · 9 months ago
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I love the domestic bliss of shadzel raising lil baby xan, but something about single mom lae'zel is incredibly compelling
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necrotic-nephilim · 3 months ago
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https://www.tumblr.com/necrotic-nephilim/764367433969664000/for-the-recent-ask-game-im-really-curious-about
Agree with all of this but especially the Parentification thing has always annoyed me! I never understood why people think mentoring Damian was parentification, Dick was a grown man way out of his teens?! Lowkey, because I see this in the anti fandom side a lot, think they want to write Dick being the other boys’ mommy so bad but can’t because that’s icky so they say “parentification” & “Eldest Daughter Syndrome”, half joking but there is at least some feminization going on.
(linked post) YEAH you get me!!! like? Dick is in his mid to late 20s, he is a *fully grown adult* who has the facilities to make the decision to be Batman and take in Damian. no one forced him to do that. it was his choice and even if he was strong-armed into it, it *still* wouldn't be parentification bc he was an adult. he was never a child taking care of other children and *that* is what parentification is. he's a grown-ass man there's no need to infantilize him or his relationships.
honestly, you're right about the feminization, i totally agree. because it's always weirded me out, this whole Eldest Daughter Syndrome thing? which is just a fancy, nicer way to say parentification. and the worst part is these concepts aren't even genderbending Dick, which i would be really interested in. they just want to assign him feminine aspects to further make him the victim that they can woobify and whump. if you feminize him, it's easier to put him in that submissive, victim role contrasted against Bruce or anyone else. and while i think gender roles can be interesting to play with in fanfic, esp in subversive ways, it has always picked me slightly that the fandom feels the need to feminize him in such a bold way where the only aspects of "feminity" he can experience are ones of subjugation. Bruce forcing him to parent and "mommy" the other Ribins like you said, Dick being isolated and only being appreciated as a caretaker, him never doing Any Wrong to other characters, and so on. when the fun of Dick is that he's nuanced and sometimes, he reflects some of Bruce's worst traits. his anger is not "female rage" it's *just* anger. (honestly, i'm not even sure what "female rage" is supposed to be anymore-) he's just someone with a complicated relationship with Bruce and yes, Bruce certainly failed him in certain aspects. but the thing is, the reason Bruce and Dick's fallout is *so* violent, is *because* they were so close. they had their golden years in Dick's youth where they ran as a well-oiled machine and everything was (relatively) perfect. Bruce definitely misstepped with Dick, but he far from victimized Dick.
it's always wild to me how the anti side of the family wants the Batfam to be Schrodinger's found family. in which is both completely wholesome and nuclear and everyone gets along and they have family meals together and they all live in Wayne Manor. but *also* it wants Dick to be a victim of parentification, Tim to be a victim of horrific abuse at the hands of his parents and then Damian and Jason, Jason to be deeply traumatized by his death and not coping well. like these don't click together? and it makes for a very jarring comparison when antis are so so clung to the idea that the Batfam is a nuclear happy family but also shoving these roles onto Dick that don't make sense. you can't have your cake and eat it too, yk.
also, not to fandom wank *too* hard but like. parentification is a *real* word. it's a real form of abuse and not something that exists in a fictional vacuum. and assigning it to characters that it outright doesn't fit can make it harder to discuss bc it dilutes the term. maybe it's bc i grew up in a home with rampant parentification so it hits close to home but like. this isn't just something you can slap onto a character to make an interesting-sounding meta anylsis. some fictional characters have been parentified and their stories explore that. Dick's does not. that is an adult. free him.
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echo-goes-mmm · 2 years ago
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So we all the love the whumpee-thinks-caretaker-is-their-new-master trope but what if it's true
Caretaker who did buy whumpee, and who does wholeheartedly believes and acts like whumpee belongs to them
But damn it they take great care of their possessions. After all, cats and dogs get spoiled with treats and comfy beds and vet visits when they're sick and cuddles and a form of love
Why should a slave be any different? Especially because caretaker bought whumpee for companionship
Plus whumpee can tidy up, cook for themselves, hold a conversation, and even play games like cards or board games, and can go everywhere caretaker can
That's infinitely better than a cat or dog.
It's just such a shame their old owner was so terrible. Whumpee is so timid now, and nearly skin and bone. But that's nothing a good owner can't fix, right? The poor thing needs some proper structure and attention that's all. It's a good thing whumpee is human. It would be a lot harder to rehabilitate a rescue who can't comprehend speech.
And whumpee doesn't want to leave. Fetching files from a desk and playing checkers and occasionally cleaning the kitchen while master chatters about work is far better than being locked in a cold basement and getting beaten every day
Their new master doesn't lay a hand on them, their version of punishment is no music while doing chores, or no dessert
After all, you wouldn't hit your dog. Caretaker's new pet deserves at least that
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whumpderella · 6 months ago
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Meet You at the Blossom (Episode 04)
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nyctohyloph0bia · 7 months ago
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POV. I have entered your house. 😈
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sapphicsnzs · 3 months ago
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the way that when my cat can tell my girlfriend doesn’t feel good she’ll just sit and purr into the phone. literally last night she had her paws around my phone and kept dragging it back to her. and she was doing the little biscuit making with her paws around the phone😭😭😭
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tomwambsgans · 2 years ago
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tomgreg is not "i could fix him" nor "i could make him worse" but "i could make him feel like a real person." from both ends.
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papa-goose-ollie · 5 months ago
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Gideon dives in front of a blade to save his best friend and partner in crime. However, the blade turnea out to be cursed and Gideon is sent into a nightmare realm of fever dreams.
Will Kremy be able to pull Gideon from his own personal hell.
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Fandom: Legends of Avantris
Words: 9543
Characters: very Kremy and Gideon centric with some sprinkling of Frost
Pairings: Gideon Coal X Kremy Lecroux
Content warning: graphic depictions of violence, PTSD, nightmares, temporary character death.
This behemoth has taken me the better part of 2 weeks to write good lord but im really proud of it! :D
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newbornwhumperfly · 6 months ago
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what water says as it plummets...
i'll be honest, fellas? 🥺💖🥺 this one is a plot point i'd built up for a long time and it sort of poured out of me all at once in this chapter 💖 it's a little rougher than i'd like due to sleepiness but i'm so happy to bring this character to my audience in this @whumpmasinjuly prompt - day 15: a soft reprieve - cause i'm sure you'll love her. 🥰
title insp. by the poem "interview" by jordan kapono nakamura - "i have extensive experience in studying what water says as it plummets..."
~
“Okay, honey, you can hop up on the table whenever you’re ready.”
Sarai has found that Morja, as a patient, generally prefers orders. That’s to be expected, for sure. It’s usually safer to be told what to do when you’re told what to do every day of your life and Morja has often frozen, still and quiet, when offered an option right away. So, the best way to start these appointments is to sort of sound like she’s telling him what to do. 
Every patient is different and has different needs from their doctor. In this way, every patient is the same.
Sure enough, Morja’s shoulders go down a notch from their raised tension as he hoists himself to sit on the bench. He’s been…less tense with each visit, especially recently. He even took one of the candies Sarai offered without protesting. 
But today, something is…different about Morja. Or, moreso, something is the same, some pattern that has been shifting is fixed, cold and solid, in place in Morja’s countenance.. There is a way that Morja holds himself, tight, rigid, that comes and goes, but there is something even worse that she’s observed - it was the dead, resigned bracing in his face when he first got an exam. It was as if he was locked in around the certainty of a terrible thing, his body merely a vessel which would carry whatever was to come. 
He looks like that now, his hands and the mass of scar tissue they hold not clenched loosely or folded politely, but laid palm-up in his lap, still but for the twitch of a finger, and it sends the familiar pulse of knowing down Sarai’s spine. 
Knowing isn’t the only thing that is pulsing in her body - the tidal wave is cresting earlier than usual. 
The familiar ocean of pain, her vision of it, has crept up on her, busy with setting up shop, with answering messages, with putting in another order that wasn’t refilled because prescriptions are delayed and not being a civilian is not much of a fucking advantage with medication the past two months. The whirlpool centers at her spine, radiating down the leg in a strong current, and she winces as she rubs her thigh. Okay, we’re doing things a little differently today. 
“Hey, Morja? Would it be okay if we did some of our appointment stuff on the couch today?” She thinks about leaving it at that. Remembers, with a slow, purposeful inhale, how vulnerability is a gift to others, as well as yourself. You’re not exempt from being nice to yourself, girl. “I’m having some, uh, bad pain today and I think the exam would be easier in my office, if that’s alright with you?”
At that, change ripples through Morja’s body. Under the industrially bright bulbs, his strained face falters, briefly, but what comes in place of listlessness is…a sort of determined expression. Not bracing, only…something, Sarai’s thinking wavers under the fog rolling off the water. It’s something. 
“Of- Yes, Doctor.”
The crinkle of the gown, the rustle of climbing off the table, the shuffle of feet in socks across the floor as Sarai turns herself towards her office. Luckily, her warm corner is only a few feet away and the couch beckons like a haven. It’s a shitty couch, sure, but military bases can’t be choosers and it’s new, which means its firmness holds up the parts of her body that need it. She actually sighs as she sinks down into the cushions, pats the neighboring cushion in a sit gesture. 
The careful exhale of breath beside her as Morja sits, careful and precise as he always is, tells her that the softness of cushion is a relief from the hard plastic of the table as much as the relief for her being off her feet is. She smiles at him to let him know his moves were right and lays her cane to rest against the companion side-table, stretching out her limbs to make room for the little streams of voltage pinpricking her skin from the inside. She can tell, now, just by the way he didn’t try to stand at attention, hands clasped behind his back, that she did the right thing. 
In the softening shadow of her purple-shaded lamp, Morja looks so small on the couch. For all his bulk, the muscle that has been so pounded into those broad shoulders, the wide torso hard and sturdy as a sack of potatoes, he doesn’t fill up the space much at all. Tucked into the corner, folded neatly, compact, trying not to draw attention. 
Sarai lifts the stethoscope, the warmed metal a comfort in hands that move with shaky slowness, deliberate and obvious when pressing it against Morja’s back, her murmured breathe in for me, please, now out, now in, very good a rhythm she could say in her sleep, her focus on the measure of his pulse. Listening to this man’s lungs make it impossible to not listen to other parts of his body. How the texture of scar rises to meet the shirt that covers it. How even those ridges are and how they rise with his breathing into her hand. There are so many. 
“Doctor?”
Sarai is almost startled by the sound of Morja’s voice. He is so quiet, often, in the examination room. She wonders if it is the softly-lit enclave of her office nook which prompts him to speak first or the intensity of whatever state he’s in. Sarai smoothly folds her hands in her lap, visible and also at a safe distance. 
“Yeah, Morja?” Her voice is slower, the tide catching up to her a little, dragging the lilt away a bit, and she doesn’t quite swallow back a wince at the depth her pain is dragging her voice down to. Morja doesn’t seem to get snagged on the roughness though, his body leaning forward, brow wrinkling up in an intense concentration expression and Sarai tries hard to be alert. She’s so glad there is no sterile smell or bright light to distract her. “What’s up?”
“...Your cane is…pretty. Why, Doctor?”
Damn. So it’s that kind of mood. Huh. 
Fuck, she’s watery, the pulsing little hammers at her temples, her knees, her back, are trying to pull her away from the conversation. But she breathes in, out, in a hum that lets him know she heard, she’s thinking. 
“Great question, Morja.” Sarai says softly, at last, making a rainwater of her voice, flowing with the pain and the rolling mists. Working with her body, not against it. The bright hues of the cane pull her focus and she lets that be her guide. She was feeling…blueish, today, and her blueberry earrings, her sea-deep dress, mirror the cobalt-on-white, delicate patterns on mimicking porcelain teacups, spiral up to the sturdy handle, its blue velvet cushion, anything but fragile as a dish. “Pretty things make me feel better. And…since my cane is me, ya know, it makes sense that it makes me feel better. I hurt a lot some days and, uh, I figure I deserve all the help I can get, so, gotta give it to myself.” 
Her gaze drifts back to Morja’s face and his eyes are deep wells that meet her own. A groove of emotion carved deep into the valleys and ridges, scar after scar, rough terrain hiding buried treasure. So dark in their brown they approach black and the color is what guides her brain again, guides her to recognize the furrow between those eyes, the shadows beneath. The spasm of pain in her chest is not from any illness, only an emotion. The weight of pretty as it fell out of his mouth is the weight of his body on this couch. A luxury Morja  (believes, so strongly believes he) can’t have. 
It only lasts a moment, less than a heartbeat, before Morja looks away and Sarai is unable to swim after it. She’s quite sure he never meant to look her in the eye. She’s quite sure that he wanted to. Morja’s mouth is no longer slack and a frown is an expression, better than nothing. 
The fog thickens around the corners of her eyes, head going all syrup again, thick sugar, bitter as burning caramel, and she breathes out, out, out through a cluster of needles up and down her neck. Fuuuuuuuck. The back of her head thumps against the wall, the darkness of her lids pressing back the dizziness. 
“Hey, Morja? I’m a little out of it- I’m okay, it’ll pass, but do you want to sit in here with me or sit in the exam room? No wrong answers, honey.” 
Her voice is a rumble in her chest and she breathes out the wince, the tremors rocking the tilt behind her lids precariously. 
“Can I…change back into my clothes?”
Oh, honey. 
Her lid cracks, as does the corner of her mouth, and though he’s blurry, she wants the sunlight of how pleased she is of him asking for a thing to break through her cloud of exhaustion. 
Fuck, her head hurts so much, but she’s proud and glad, ouch ouch ouch. 
“‘Course, Morja, gra’ me a can’y when y’get yourself on, pl’se...” 
The rustle of Morja leaving and returning is close together, time doing its foamy thing while she counts her breaths, but the press of a wrapped peppermint, round and crinkly, in her palm is so gentle. 
The couch sinks and settles into the shape of another body, doing the thing she is doing, leaning back into the firm crevices that hold you up. The soft-crunch sounds of the wrapper as she squeezes her fist around it, as Morja unwraps his own candy, as she tries to just kind of be as Morja is on the spot beside her. 
The office is dark and cool and quiet and they’re both in good company right now. 
“...It’s nice. The candy.” 
A flat whisper, halting and small and brave, fumbling across the inches in the dark. 
A flat answer fumbles back, warm and limping and still good enough to greet him.
“I'm glad, Morja. It's really nice.”
~
sincerely hoped you all enjoyed this venture into my story 🥺💖🥺 sarai baptiste is the team's medic who is stationed at base forthill and she's disabled and kind and badass as hell and deserves the world 😢💖✨😍
taglist: @much-ado-about-whumping @haro-whumps @whump-tr0pes @i-eat-worlds @wolfeyedwitch
@straight-to-the-pain @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whatgoeswhumpinthenight
@tears-and-lilies @whumping-every-day @whumpthisway @stoic-whumpee @liliability
@whumpster-draganies @whumpzone @suspicious-whumping-egg @lave-whump @kixngiggles
have a very merry @whumpmasinjuly everyone! 💖💖💖
@whumpmasinjuly-archive
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