#or more so Mac gets captured and tortured

[lailuhhh]

I’ve gotta get this out of my brain

Jack teaching Mac to swim.

Maybe Mac didn’t grow up close to a body of water. Harry wouldn’t have paid for a local pool pass and would never have taken him to the beach. James wouldn’t have either. The Bozer’s didn’t like swimming so they never went.

Maybe Jack finds out while they’re together in the desert. Maybe on their next leave or day(s) off Jack finds a local pool or swimming hole and teaches Mac. Or maybe he can’t teach Mac until they are discharged but it’s always in the back of his mind. Maybe he quick to offer on a day when they don’t know what to do with themselves as civilians. Maybe Mac asks because it’s in the form he has to sign for the DSX and he really wants to this job so he can stay with Jack.

Thoughts???

Brobrobro like

Jack finds out while he’s telling Mac a story of the last Dalton get together before he left and it’s like

And when I tell ya we went at least ten feet in the air, I ain’t exaggeratin at all. The thing flipped and we all went flyin. You ever do things like that? I mean you bein a Cali beach boy and all

Nah, I never really had a reason to go to the beach

Not even to just take a quick swim?

Never learned how

And Mac’s just nonchalant about it and the thought of it never crossed his mind of he didn’t know how to swim because there wasn’t ever a situation where he would actually need to know how to

And the thought is surprising for Jack because what person from California doesn’t know how to swim? But then given what he knew about Mac’s early childhood, it made sense and it made him sad to think about and it goes on with

Well if ya want, I could teach ya. My little niece is star on the swim team in her school and I’d like to think it’s cuz of me; take ya to the lake where everyone learns how

And Mac’s silent for a second before

I’d actually really enjoy that. Thank you

[zahri-melitor]

Next up time for more intense angst in the Potted Fanon Histories with Robin III, TIM DRAKE:

Tim, newborn: His parents bring him home from the hospital to the family mansion in Bristol, Drake Manor. They are millionaires.

Tim, 3: Was at Haly’s Circus. Saw the Graysons die.

Tim, 8-9: Realises that Dick Grayson is Robin after seeing him do a quadruple flip on the news. Becomes immediately obsessed with Batman & Robin. Starts sneaking out at night with a camera to take photos.

Tim, 8-9: Jack and Janet Drake decide that their child is just so mature and competent that really, they’re too busy with their work running a multimillion dollar medical company as internationally renown archaeologists. Tim is now left at home in Drake Manor, with a housekeeper and/or nanny.

Tim, 10-13: shortly after Tim gets into his new hobby of midnight roof vigilante photography, Jason becomes Robin. Tim is now obsessed with this new younger Robin who cares so much for children.

Tim, 10-13: attends Gotham Academy. His parents return home at irregular intervals for a few days without warning. They repeatedly encourage him to network with other children at school for Business Purposes. At some stage they decide he no longer needs adult supervision at home, as he’s just So Responsible. Mrs Mac now drops in for a couple of hours per week to do the vacuuming and cook.

Tim and his parents: Janet is an Ice Queen and Jack is abusive. Tim is unaware that this is not normal. He is being raised as a Business Baby. He is expected to skip grades at school and be working 2-3 years above his age cohort.

Tim, 11-13 (yes we’re sticking with a wide range here): Tim finds out Jason is dead when Bruce announces it in the paper. During his nights out he notices Bruce is getting more violent. Tim goes to find Dick in Bludhaven to tell him that Bruce is too violent! Dick shrugs him off so Tim is determined – he goes to Bruce and tell him that there must be a Robin and insists it is him.

Tim, 13-14: is a smol sad bean. He is now Robin and Bruce is less violent but he’ll never be a Robin like his hero ~*~Jason Todd~*~. Bruce accidentally calls him Jason and looks at the memorial case all the time. Tim knows he’s not really part of the family but he’s doing his best as Robin.

Tim, 13-14: Tim goes on a trip to Paris where he encounters assassins. No further details.

Tim, 13-14: Dick starts dropping by the Manor and Gotham every second weekend to patrol with Tim as Robin, because he’s so guilty about Not Spending Enough Time With Jason. They become close, like brothers.

Tim, 13-14: Tim encounters Steph as Spoiler when she hits him on the head with a brick. They immediately start dating.

Tim’s Parental Free Square: Janet and Jack are both alive and well and neglect Tim. They have not realised he is Robin as they’ve been home for 6 weeks total in the last 5 years.

Tim’s Alternate Parental Free Square: at an unspecified time Janet died. Jack went into a coma. Since then, Tim has been living at Wayne Manor in a spare room. One day, Jack might wake up, but it’s been months or years now.

Tim, 14: Tim forms Young Justice with his best friends Kon, Bart, Cassie and Cissie. They hang out together and play baseball in space! (the only plot that happens here)

Tim, 14-15: Tim and the rest of Young Justice (minus Cissie) become Teen Titans. No reason why, they’re just old enough now. (The only plot that happens here is Titans of Tomorrow where they meet their evil adult selves)

Alternate Robin Tim plot: Joker Junior! Due to either Reverse Robins or just a desire for whump, Tim is captured by Joker and tortured till insanity. He becomes Joker Junior.

Tim, 14-15: there’s a new villain in Gotham haunting the streets, Red Hood. Bruce is now obsessed with him and has no time to pay any attention to Tim. He has told Tim not to patrol. Dick is also worried. Tim, forbidden from going out in Gotham, goes to hang out at Titans Tower (location unspecified). Jason turns up and beats Tim up with his own bo staff and may slit Tim’s throat. Alternately, Tim sneaks out in Gotham anyway and encounters Red Hood on another occasions where he gets his throat slit. This is a major injury that scars badly.

Tim, 16: His parents die. His best friend, Kon, dies. His girlfriend Steph dies. Tim is very distraught by this and refuses to let Bruce adopt him, inventing a Fake Uncle. He tries to clone Kon 99 times in a basement.

Tim, 17: gets adopted. He meets Damian and Damian immediately tries to deliberately murder him. Several times. 

Tim, 17: Bruce dies. Tim is convinced he is not dead. If Battle for the Cowl happens, Jason tries to kill him with a batarang. Once Dick is Batman, Tim and Dick fight over whether Bruce is dead. Dick says Tim is crazy and should be in Arkham. He then tells Tim that Damian is now Robin. Tim, furious, drops out of school and runs away and becomes Red Robin.

Tim, 17: Tim is captured by Ra’s Al Ghul. He loses his spleen. He gets away by blowing up ALL the League bases and hundreds of people die. He then returns to Gotham and falls out of a tower due to Ra’s Al Ghul. Dick catches him. The spleen loss is a secret.

Tim, 17: Tim gets emancipated and is no longer legally a family member because that’s how emancipation works. He now runs Wayne Enterprises as CEO. Everyone is impressed how good at it he is and how hard he works. 

Tim, 17: Tim is still mad about what Dick said to him. Damian again attempts to murder Tim, this time by dropping a billboard on his head and when that doesn’t work, by cutting his line. Dick takes Damian’s side, and explains Tim can’t be Robin anymore because Damian just needs it so much more and look how well he’s doing!

Tim, 17: Bruce returns due to Tim’s research but he’s now mad at Tim because Tim tried to kill Captain Boomerang (who killed his parents). 

Tim, 17: (optional angst) the Daughter of Acheron tries to rape Tim and Cass saves him. This provides angst. Cass is the only person who knows or cares. 

Tim, 17: Jason apologises for trying to kill Tim multiple times and blames it on pit rage. Tim accepts this as a good explanation and becomes Best Brothers with Jason as he has apologised.

Tim, 17: Tim’s no longer part of the family and it gives him ANGST. He’s just so sad. Also he just can’t trust Dick any more and their brotherhood is Eternally Destroyed. He’s just a Coworker.

Tim, currently: Tim comes out as bi and starts dating an old classmate, Bernard. They live on a boat. Bernard was in a paincult for a while. Tim is Robin. 

Alternate Tim, currently 17: Tim is living in an apartment and running Wayne Enterprises. He does not live at Manor but he has a bedroom there. This is an argument between him and Bruce. There is still tension between Tim and Dick that they are both sad about, but Tim is cool with Jason. Tim has either forgiven Damian or they fight constantly every time they’re near each other. Tim is Red Robin.

Tim, currently: is in a relationship with Bernard, Kon or Steph, pick one. If Tim is in a relationship with Kon, Bruce vaguely disapproves and says “no metas in Gotham” a lot. 

[reidwitchsblog]

My Ticci Toby HC

Warning: 18+ content, mention of dead animals, mention of people’s death, mention of scars, wrong use of punctuation marks.

Author’s note: While I take my sweet time writing the second part of my fict, enjoy this little headcanons that have been on my mind.

Author’s note 2: I created this playlist that basically captures everything you need to know about the way I hc him.

Minors DNI.

PERSONALITY

His personality is, for a lack of better words, eerie. Most of the time he is silent and observant, and due to his past he doesn’t show his true personality often, but rather he morphs into a person that he thinks the others will like, it could be a mature young man, or a sarcastic little shit.

I believe that when he kills, he tortures his victims due to the fact that the concept of pain is foreign to him. He enjoys to try different torture methods

His biggest desire is to have a home. It is something he keeps a secret from others, not really because he is afraid of being made fun of, but rather because he feels that as long as no one knows, the fact that it’s never going to happen will hurt less. So he keeps that deep inside him, in a safe place, like a little photograph that he can take out and look when he is feeling down.

As much as he despises being angry (it reminds him of his dad), he can’t help it, he is his father’s son after all. When he gets mad, his first instinct is to bear his teeth and growl. And if the person he is fighting with doesn’t take the cue, he will attack, aiming for the throat as soon as he has the opportunity.

And talking about dogs, HE LOVES LIKE A HOUND DOG, once that he catch a scent that is appealing to him, there is nothing, and no one, that’s able to stop him. He is going to chase it until he has it in his maw, without very little regard as to whether he is hurting himself.

PHYSICAL

I see many people saying that my man is the shortest one out of all proxies, but, respectfully, I think they are wrong. He just gives me tall man vibes, HOWEVER, I think his poor posture makes him stand at 6’0, when he normally is 6’2, which comes really handy when he wants to scare his victims.

We all agree that he has the most beautiful light brown eyes, they are like pools of honey, warm and inviting, which contrast massively with the scowl he seems to permanently wear.

Although he is more on the skinny side, he has gained some muscles over the years due to all the physical work he does; chopping wood, running around, carrying his victims… sadly he covers them with either flannels or grandpa sweaters.

Still on the topic of grandpa sweaters, he looooves them, mainly because they remind him of his late sister, whose last Christmas present were two brown and green sweaters. His to go outfit is a short sleeved band shirt, a flannel, a pair of dark denim jeans, his old shearling jacket and and a pair of black Converse. When he is alone is his cabin he opts for a wife beater and a pair of flannel pajama pants.

His whole body is covered in scars, most of them being self inflicted, and fewer being the ones made by his bravest victims that naively thought that a knife would’ve stopped Toby from killing them. He doesn’t hate them per say, he even thinks some of them are cool, but in the coldest nights, when he is alone with his thoughts, he can’t help but to despise every single part of his body, including his scars.

RANDOM HC

He has a small collection of various trinkets hidden in a wooden box beneath his bed. Some of them are old photos with his sister, rocks that he thought they were pretty, keychains that he stole from different gas stations, etc. At first glance it would look just like a pile of crap, but I can assure you everything has a reason to be there.

He was born in Germany but moved to South Carolina when he was 5.

He enjoys listening to music, his favorite genre is old rock. The Rolling Stones, Queen, Van Morrison, Fleetwood Mac, Bon Jovi, Blondu… his favorite song is “Brown eyed Girl” and you can’t change my mind.

He is the softest person when it comes to animals, he feels so bad when he finds any dead animal near the road, and he always gives them a proper burial, he even says some words along the lines of “the world was cruel to you when all you wanted was some warmth”. He so cried with the poem about spiders.

⋆｡°✩ — ©️ reidwitchsblog, 2023 - don’t repost, translate, copy, or claim.

[slicedmayonnaise]

Dutch was NOT always bad.

a lot of people overlook the fact of how much pressure dutch was under 24/7. for ~20 years, he had the burden of taking care of those around him and it only got worse as time went on and more and more people joined the gang. whenever something happened, good or bad, everyone looked to him to place blame because he was the one in charge.

i believe the first cracks started after colm killed annabelle. she was his responsibility; therefore, her death was his fault.

he was able to continue on normally until blackwater.

he lost davey, jenny, mac, and sean in blackwater. two dead and two mia and that blame is put on him. it is his fault that those four people are lost. it is his fault that his family is dead and hurting. then, when he gets sean back, he finds out mac is dead.

then arthur gets kidnapped by colm on a set up to discuss peace between the two gangs. arthur is shot and tortured. he's barely conscious when he makes it back to camp. dutch's fault. if only he'd realized. if only he'd taken arthur's absence more seriously. the pain in his voice when arthur tells him colm set them up.

then he loses sean again in rhodes. again, it is his fault sean dies. he is the leader. he is responsible.

then jack is kidnapped.

then kieran is captured and killed, whom dutch still feels responsible for despite the circumstances of how kieran came about. he clearly expresses sympathy for kieran's death.

then, of course, he loses hosea, lenny, and john during the saint denis bank robbery.

hosea's death itself is what finally breaks dutch. during the entire sequence in the bank, dutch does not move or fire his gun. he has to get arthur to blow open the wall because he is in shock. he can't even bring himself to move when he sees john get taken by the pinkertons.

everything went so wrong so quickly over the past few months and everything was dutch's fault.

the deaths of the two people he loved more than anything- annabelle and hosea- were his fault.

even when it's just dutch, bill, micah, arthur, and javier in guarma, dutch can't help javier when he gets shot and taken by the guarma officers.

at this point, he's lost his patience with himself and the world. he can't stand to see another of his boys die because of him. so he goes to immoral lengths to ensure he saves javier (killing that old lady in the cave).

nothing and no one else matters to him but his gang anymore. he has to keep them safe. so when micah gets in his ear about a rat and throws john under the bus to save his own skin, dutch can't help but go along with it in his fragile state because circumstantially, it does make sense. john was the only one who was taken alive at the bank, and his wife somehow managed to get away when hosea was grabbed by the pinkertons.

i don't believe dutch really would have let john hang in sisika. i do believe he had a plan to go for him eventually, but after john's return, he only got more and more antsy. he lost his mind more and more and trusted john and arthur less and less because of all the shit micah was feeding him. arthur did go behind dutch's back, after all.

"i gave you all i had" is the statement that makes dutch realize how much of a damn fool he's been. arthur- his son- laying at his feet and dying, once again, because of HIM. it's his fault that the gang fell apart. it's his fault that arthur is dying. it's his fault that john- his other son- is suffering. he was the one that betrayed the gang, and he recognizes it. he abandons micah on the mountain and breaks down crying over his own failure.

annabelle, davey, jenny, mac, sean, jack, kieran, john, hosea, lenny, molly, susan, arthur. all his fault. everything was his fault.

i doubt dutch stayed with bill and javier after beaver hallow. i believe he left out of shame. shame of what he'd become. shame of what he'd done.

i don't know why or how he ended up working with micah again by 1907, but my best guess has to do with that fact that he has completely lost his mind at this point.

well, not completely, as he does shoot micah for bad-mouthing arthur, and he does let john live.

john. his son. his last son. john misses dutch. dutch misses john. but john is too hurt. and dutch is too ashamed. dutch leaves, and he leaves john with the fortune he and micah had stashed away.

shame. guilt. all his fault.

[ky-randomshitposting]

yall get a MacDoc oneshot, context is Macgyver got kidnapped and tortured for like 5 months and Murdoc found him, this is far from done and not extremely proof read so don't mind mistakes

Mac's body absolutely ached, it had been months since he was captured and they tortured him daily, each day was something different, they assumed he would break eventually and tell them everything they wanted to know about the phoenix, but no matter what they did, or how painful it was mentally or physically, he never spoke anything more than a scream or some type of taunt.

When they realized he wasn't going to break they dumped him in the forest. The second Mac heard them leave he collapsed, right as his consciousness faded he heard a twig snap near him, all he hoped was he wasn't going to wake up back there, but he couldn't be bothered to keep his eyes open any longer, he needed the rest he had been deprived of, no matter what.

Mac shot up into a sitting position, panting as his mind raced, his eyes tried to adjust to his surroundings, taking a moment to process the pain he was in, he felt the softness of the bed under him and shifted his legs off the edge of the bed, he couldn't recognize where he was, the room was dim only being illuminated by a bedside lamp, and next to him was an iv bag set up properly on a stand and connect to his right arm, whatever it was definitely helped with the pain.

Mac sighed and mumbled "This isn't medical..so where am I?" Right as he completed the sentence the door frame creaked and he looked up only to be met with a familiar face

"Correct, and one of my safehouses" Murdoc said as he leaned and smiled, giving a slight wave at Mac.

Mac tensed and winced "Murdoc..?" Mac rubbed his eyes almost as if he couldn't process his enemy is the one who saved him "The one and only" Murdoc teased as he joined Mac's side, standing next to the bed, his eyes seemingly glancing over Mac to check his condition.

"How are we feeling boyscout?" The sentence almost ended with a hum followed by a slight smile. "Not great.." Mac sounded exhausted.

In all honesty, he felt like he'd been hit by a train, actually the train may have hurt less. Murdoc nodded and his hands reached to mess with the iv bag, after a few moments he seemed content "That should help." he said as he turned his attention back to Mac.

Murdoc slid a hand under Mac's chin and tilted it up inspecting him closely "Murdoc?" Mac was confused but staring into Murdoc's eyes as Murdoc seemingly studied him.

After a moment Mac hadnt noticed Murdoc grab something from his coat jacket until a bright light was in his eyes, he flinched from the suddenness but luckily didn't show any signs of a concussion. Murdoc nodded approvingly.

"Sorry, didn't get to preform that check on you since you were out" Murdoc slipped the flashlight back into his jacket and released Mac's chin.

Mac sighed and rubbed his eyes "Why?" Mac mumbled, returning to look at Murdoc who paused "Checking for a concussion is important? Should I check again I feel like you would know that?" Murdoc slightly tilted his head as he spoke, looking Mac over again for a brief moment.

"Not that, why'd you uh.." Mac paused "What is it?" Murdoc slightly leaned forward twords Mac, looming over him, that chill of nervousness seeping through Mac "Why'd you save me?" Mac leaned back slightly creating a little more distance between him and Murdoc who softly chuckled.

"Well, your dear phoenix team failed to save you, so I did. After all I'm the only one who can kill you remember." Murdoc cooed at he moved to clasp his hands together and his borderline creepy grin returned.

Mac gulped "They would've found me eventually" Mac mumbled, looking away from Murdoc and instead looking down at his legs, dread seeped into the pit of his stomach, he couldn't say he entirely believed what he just said, but he wanted to.

Murdoc frowned "Yeah sure, they would've eventually found you dead in a forest." His tone got a bit snarky near the end.

Mac quickly moved his head up and stared at Murdoc with wide eyes "Don't say that" he sounded somewhat annoyed and hurt.

Murdoc gritted his teeth "Your team failed to save you for 5. Fucking. Months. Don't you look me dead in my eyes and tell me they would've found you alive." He ended the sentence with almost a hiss as he leaned twords Mac by the end he was merely inches away from his face.

"I kept more tabs on you then they ever did, if I hadn't been able to track you down you wouldn't be breathing right now, you gave me more then enough trouble trying to keep you alive do not make me regret it now." Murdoc's hand reached behind Mac's head harshly pulling his hair to force his head back as he spoke.

"Now." Murdoc released his grip and stopped looming "I'm going to go prepare dinner, you're going to rest, end of story." Murdoc was cold, he spent hours fixing up Mac, and now he wanted to say his team would've saved him? Absolutely bullshit.

Murdoc left the room before Mac could respond to him, Mac's left hand slowly reaching up to his hair to sooth the new ache appearing, though he did notice his body hurt a whole lot less now after Murdoc messed with the iv, Mac sighed and laid back down, normally he would try to devise some sort of plan, but he was still completely exhausted from the past five months, so he decided despite the fact it was Murdoc he was dealing with, he'd listen and get some rest.

Mac began to doze off, the lessened pain finally giving him a much needed opportunity to relax, soon his consciousness slipped again, after about an hour he felt something shaking him awake, but he didn't want to wake up yet, then he felt a hand on the side of his neck, Mac let out an annoyed breath.

"Not dead" he mumbled as his eyes finally opened. Murdoc was leaning over him and let out a soft breath and his slight panicked look diminished when Mac finally responded.

Murdoc motioned to the food on the night stand "Dinner is ready." Mac turned to look at the food, slowly sitting up "Thank you, Murdoc.." it felt wrong to not thank the assassin, however it did still feel weird to do so.

Murdoc slightly smiled "Of course boyscout, now eat you need the energy." Murdoc slowly moved the bowl of chicken and rice soup into Mac's hands, who shakily took it.

Murdoc headed to the door but waited in the door way for a moment, studying Mac, Mac didn't notice as he took his first bite of food, which was quite delicious unexpectedly, he hadn't known Murdoc knew how to cook. Right after Mac successfully took a bite of food Murdoc departed down the hallway with a satisfied hum.

Mac had quite missed good quality food, being stuck in that place, only being able to eat a gross combination of food that gave him just enough nutrients to survive was worse than the torture at that point, torture he could withstand somewhat but gross food was a whole other story. Mac finished his soup quite quickly, he didn't know why he trusted Murdoc not to poison him right now, he figured since he had went through all that effort to save him he wouldn't, but he still had not a clue why Murdoc went through all that effort.

Mac stared at the iv in his arm, and the slow realization he had to get back to the phoenix set in, he needed a plan, and quickly, he doubted Murdoc would let him leave easily. Mac pulled the iv out, wincing slightly as he did, he went to stand but as he did he realized just how painful standing still was even with drugs in his system, he collapsed to the floor with a loud thump, panicking knowing he most certainly just alerted Murdoc, who he could hear softly approaching.

Mac wanted to try and hide, but his body ached so much he just stayed there, on his knees, in front of the bed, right where he just fell, and moments later Murdoc was crouched next to him.

"Angus..?" Murdoc sounded oddly soft and comforting, gently rubbing Mac's back, seemingly dodging the wounds he knew were back there.

Mac slowly turned to look at Murdoc, hesitating as he did "Sorry.." an apology was all he could think of to say, in hopes Murdoc wouldn't lose his temper with him.

Murdoc sighed gently shaking his head and laughed "Boyscout you really shouldn't try to escape before you can walk you know, as much as I enjoy chasing you, you aren't gonna put up much of a fight." He teased.

Mac let out a slight huff and rolled his eyes, Murdoc slowly helped Mac back onto the bed, his eyes glancing to the blood slowly trickling down Mac's arm, he sighed and left the room momentarily returning with a bandaid and a damp cloth. He crouched down next to the bed and cleaned the blood away, applying some pressure to the open wound to make sure it stopped bleeding.

Mac slightly winced "I know boyscout, but you did this to yourself." Murdoc continued to focus while Mac mumbled something unidentifiable.

Soon the bleeding had stopped and Murdoc placed a bandaid over it, he looked up at Mac "All done." he had a slight smile as he stood up.

Exiting the room to dispose of the cloth into a hamper and then returning with a bottle of medication and a cup of ice water. "Now I don't really want to fight to put that back in your arm, so we're switching over to pain medication." He placed the items on the night stand next to Mac, who had his left arm draped over his eyes not acknowledging Murdoc it seemed.

Murdoc raised an eyebrow before poking Mac in the shoulder "Boyscout..?" Mac grumbled and rolled over facing away from Murdoc, apparently the blond had already fallen back asleep.

[talesfromsiteredacted]

Dealing With Fae Entities, a Helpful Guide To Managing Elves, Faeries, Pictsies, and Other Annoyances

Hi, kids! This is Dr. Snow here, your friendly neighborhood Fae expert, as of this afternoon. After several very irritating encounters with the Fae, Dr. Clef and I agreed I should record some tips for dealing with them.

First thing first, UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE, NO MATTER HOW FRIENDLY A FAE MAY SEEM AT FIRST ENCOUNTER, GIVE THEM YOUR TRUE GIVEN NAME. Names have power, give them yours and you are screwed.

Second, never enter any contract without reading it three or four times and running it through both Legal and Ethics first. Dr. Venser failed this crucial test, and had to give up her first born child. Don't be like Venser. Fae contracts are almost as hard as Hell contracts to break.

If cornered, bonk the bastard relentlessly with cold iron. Burns them worse than a bloody flamethrower, plus the added hilarity and embarrassment of being nearly clubbed to death by cookware. Skillets are the best option, but never underestimate the humble fireplace poker.

Do not, no matter how hungry you are, or how good the food or drink look, accept "free" gifts from the Fae. That's how you wind up in their debt. Plus, the Fae are worse cooks than Clef, which is saying a lot. THERE IS NOTHING FREE WITH THE "FAIR FOLK"! Bunch of scheming, cheating arseholes. Again, remember Dr. Venser!

Never believe a word they say. They lie more than Clef.

If a Fae raiding party approaches, throw candy at them then call in the MTFs. They're distracted by sweets, much like children. Plus, they are compelled to pick up every single piece of thrown sugar. Candies that shatter against hard surfaces, like jawbreakers, are ideal.

If captured, AGREE TO NOTHING, EVEN THE ATMOSPHERIC CONDITIONS. Agreeing with the Fae on anything is practically giving them consent to torture you.

Carry silver on your person at all times. To think, Dr. Harrigan laughed at me over my silver snowflake Scranton pendant. She's not laughing now, seeing as she's now the Fae King's newest plaything. Silver burns Fae like cold iron, plus it renders their unicorns too weak to do much.

Trust nothing in the presence of the Fae. They bend reality just by being here. Cold iron jacketed hollow point magazines will be distributed by Munitions. Treat them like your average Bixby, aim for their head once distracted.

To ward against the Fae, salt the entryways and windows. While this works on vampires due to the purity of salt, the elvish arseholes will be compelled to pick up every last grain of salt spilled. You may then headshot them to your heart's delight.

If attacked by six inch tall blue pitcsies with red hair and a tendency to fight, steal, or drink anything they come across, offer copious amounts of alcohol, and hide. The Nac Mac Feegle may be tiny compared to him, but those scunners managed to kill SCP 076-2 with minimal effort. One of them even climbed in his loincloth. Look, if even ABEL is afraid of these guys, don't try to take them on. Abel barely lasted ten minutes.

Refuse ANY item offered. We do not need another "Anomalous Ring Of Inconsistent Waterbreathing" incident. Poor Dr. Mariner needs a tank now, and that damned thing is fused to his finger.

Unicorns, while beautiful, are... not very nice. How not nice? They'll gore you as soon as look at you.

Do not look at the Queen of the Fae. Two reasons: one, she's incredibly vain and will pester you to no end on how beautiful she is, and then... she'll try to get you into bed with her. Bad decision. She's got a higher (dead) body count than a black widow spider, and like a preying mantis, bites her victims heads off. Two, the King is hella jealous and you may not even live to accept that invite to the Queen's bed. Bigger dick than the Scarlet King.

Glitter also distracts the Fae long enough to dome them easily. Especially if 035 coats his junk in it. Wasn't ever expecting Disco Dong Dyo to be helpful, but the bastards were so confused killing them was easy.

If all else fails to repell the elvish dickheads, threaten to summon Dr. Clef. Not even their King wants to hear his ukulele.

If, for some reason you are tired of life, you decide to really annoy the Queen, insult her appearance. Again, she's extremely vain. She'll be so busy trying to become your version of the "perfect" woman it's easy to distract and kill her. Use their weaknesses against them.

Those perfect, 7 foot tall walls of elvish muscle in the invading forces? That is not at all how they really look. The average Fae's no taller than 5 feet tall, max. And uglier than a Hollywood divorce. It's a glamour, pretty convincing one too. Distract them enough, and it crumbles.

Speaking of distractions, these dickheads are compelled to dance whenever they hear music. You can thank Dr. Myriad for this one, they had the entire army grooving along to the "Safety Dance". Yes, there is video footage. No, the Fae do not have rhythm. It was like watching the most awkward mass dry heave set to '80's pop.

Grimhounds, much like Wu-Tang Clan and the Ethics Committee, ain't nothing to fuck with. Think hellhounds on massive doses of steroids, pcp, with the most advanced and aggressive case of rabies, with teeth sharper than Abel's swords. They are fast, relentless, and the only sure way to get them off your arse is to blow them off the map with high explosives.

While it is possible to bribe the Fae... they're not trustworthy. Just don't bother.

Mousetraps work well against smaller entities. As do cats; Liam caught one last night. Was really funny to see my fluffy boy dragging this cursing little sod all around my kitchen like my cat was doing a victory lap. Theiving bastards won't raid my pantry again anytime soon, heh heh.

Clef discovered if you use enough rocks, you can weigh them down enough to drown them. It might have helped that the portal opened upon the Red Pool instead of the ocean as I intended. Oopsie. Mea Culpa if the Ethics Committee are reading this. I know, three months Keter Duty. Still worth it.

If you're thinking of poisoning the Fae... don't bother. It simply doesn't work. No one knows why. They can, however, succumb to the zombie prion disease, but then... you have to deal with feral, infectious, and above all quite undead Fae.

For once, those damned bloody Tesla Gates are useful. Fae and electricity do not react favorably, for the Fae. They explode. Bone shrapnel is an issue, but if you get far enough back it's minimal. Still, wear your goggles kids!

073 is immune to the Fae glamour. He confirmed the Fae being unattractive, and I think it was the first time I ever heard him drop the "mf" bomb. Dr. Gears dropped his Foundation issue mug so hard it shattered. You know you're hideous if CAIN, the nicest guy in the Foundation, calls you "one ugly motherfucker" to your face. Dr. Clef and Dr. Cimmerian nearly hyperventilated laughing in shock.

In need of a quick distraction, but trapped in your office? Simply scatter whatever is on top of your desk, book it out of your door, and flag down the fine friendly folks in the MTF. While the Fae reorganizes your desktop, the MTF can shoot them. Even if you don't believe Clef on this... we had one in his office last month, he scattered his massive pile of paperwork on the floor, by the time we got the clear to go back in, his desk had never been better organized. Aside from the blood splotch on his Shooter's Bible.

Fun fact: Fae are highly flammable. A raiding party caught the backblast from one of 682's Volcano Chili farts, there was nothing but ash in seconds after the flame hit them. Must ask if we can weaponize the big lizard's flatulence, that stuff burns hotter than even thermite! Pity R&D could never quite replicate it, even if it reeks worse than a zombie skunk in a manure pile.

By all means, allow 049 access to the Fae should they attempt another invasion. With his skills and knowledge, we'll soon know exactly how these bastards operate on a physical level. For once, Ethics Committee has authorized 049's request for live test subjects, provided they're Fae. No, Agent Dennis does not count, he's just short, not an evil magical arsehole.

One last thing: I cannot stress this enough. NEVER TELL THE FAE YOUR TRUE GIVEN NAME, AGREE TO ANYTHING THEY ASK, OR THINK OF TRUSTING THEM FOR A SECOND. I realize this sounds incredibly species-ist of me, however, it's truth. The Fae cannot be trusted, even less so than you'd first suspect. They will trick you, use you, then drop you harder than the atom bombs. Shoot them first, don't bother with asking questions.

Okay, I think that's everything. Oh, wait... never mentioned how to spot one before it spots you. Grimhounds are obvious. Hellhounds on steroids with rabies. The Nac Mac Feegle, once you meet them you're either broke or dead. The others? People who seem way too perfect, too good to be real, you meet in life? Those could be Fae. The hot chicks in the bar everyone is flocking around despite them being mean vapid idiots? Fae. The super smoking but arrogant dickhead every straight girl in 10 miles is lining up to be rejected by? Either Lucifer Morningstar post marriage or Fae. The guy in Soho offering unbelievable deals on top line stuff like PS5s or suchlike? Fae. And shimmering lights where no such lights could possibly be, Fae. They can be anywhere. Stay alert, stay aware, trust your instincts. Keep on, carry cold iron and silver, and Secure, Contain, Protect on.

Hugs,

Dr. "Rabbit" Snow and Dr. Alto Clef

[thehill-rpg]

Episode 2: Whispers on The Hill Part: 1/??

The quiet shuffle of bare feet on the gravel courtyard fills the air, accompanied by the faint squeak of a rusty pool gate reluctantly opening. With a pair of composed steps, a slender figure, tall yet delicate, makes her way towards an ageing pool chair. As she reclines on its worn surface, the chair emits a soft groan of protest, bearing witness to both its own well-worn years and the age of its current resting place: Palm’s Motor Hotel. Donning a pair of Ray Bans, she settles in, clad in a casual ensemble of a Washington Nationals' tank top and a worn pair of denim short shorts. In her hand, she opens a well-read copy of Cosmo, its pages gently fluttering in the breeze. Tucked between them is a torn clipping from yesterday’s issue of The Hill, resting over an article titled ‘The Secret to Finding Your Soulmate: Date Your Alter Ego.’ A good article, offering the kind of advice you could only get out of a drunk best friend, yet not the one currently capturing her attention.

Chelsea Dalton reclines beside a pool that seems questionably operational (was that the smell of an impending bacteria infection?), her gaze fixed on the familiar words. She reads it again, for what feels like the hundredth time, each word etched into her memory. She knows every line by heart. It’s beautiful.

It’s also months of dedication, collaboration, and hopefully, justice. Sure, it’s a departure from her usual flair, and while, yes, she’d normally sell her soul for this kind of traffic on her blog, she knew there was no way her posting this story would get it the attention it deserved. Hence, her email to Violet Shard, almost three months ago. She’d been hesitant at first. Sure, she was a fan, but this was something that needed to be handled with care. She was too close to her own source. She couldn’t risk being named. However, Violet had assured her of anonymity and a series of follow-ups that wouldn’t brush any pertinent details under the proverbial rug of Washington D.C. political justice. That's why she had agreed, and why she now found herself just outside the District, technically in Maryland, waiting for said blonde journalist. 

Where was she?

As she waited for Violet’s late arrival (had her trusty Saab finally coughed its last puff of exhaust?), she let her thoughts drift over to Gray, and the party she would have been at if the news she’d just leaked to The Hill, hadn’t implicated his father. She’d probably have been in some uncomfortable sundress right now, watching as Gray loosened a tie, only for his mother to promptly tighten it again, while she discreetly passed another crab puff to Mac. Of course, she hated every second of it, but even without her mom’s urging, she hadn’t missed one since she’d moved in next door to his family at six. What could she say? She had a thing for fish paste covered Hors d'Oeuvres. And tortured artists… She’d let the last one remain unsaid, stubbornly resisting even her subconscious attempts to divert her down that worn-out, oh so familiar road. Not today, Bucko! 

Just as she was attempting to shift her focus, fate intervened with the unceremonious thud of a bottle of sunscreen hitting her thigh, yanking her back to the realm of the living—or, more accurately, a realm that didn't revolve around pining over her best-friend of twenty-seven years. “Slip, slop, slap…” She glared over her glasses at a man holding a faded beach towel and a copy of The Hill. 

While quick judgments were usually her forte, she decided to withhold hers until he extended his hands to offer assistance. She leaned towards labelling him as the "concerned dad" type rather than a creepy motel lifer. "Uh, thanks, but— Is that the latest copy of The Hill?" She hadn’t been able to pick up a copy before she’d left her house in order to get here in time and she was keen to see how Violet had followed up. “Sure, kiddo. It’s yours.” She dropped her guard, leaning over to take the paper from his outstretched hand, “Are you moving in?” She’d have answered if the headline story hadn’t caught her attention. Violet Shard, facing charges of defamation and harassment, for her latest story on Congressman Whitman and Harris. “Uh, sorry, do you mind if I–” She was already up, picking up her copy of cosmo and hurrying out of the pool area and back towards her day room and her burner. FUCK. Voicemail. “Violet, call me. I— What can I do?” 

Well, she knew one thing she could do…  

She hastily opened her laptop, disregarding the unread emails clamouring for her attention with their requests for her usual freelance work. Instead, she navigated to her blog and swiftly crafted a new post.

Ms. Whisper here, emerging from the shadows with a scoop hotter than the Capitol's political inferno. It appears our esteemed journalist, Violet Shard, finds herself in the clutches of controversy. But this isn't your run-of-the-mill scandal, my darlings—oh no, it's a tale of truth-telling and the ruthless consequences that follow. Violet dared to shine a light on the dark dealings of Congressman Whitlock and Harris, revealing their insidious involvement in the war-torn realm of Matamba. Yet, instead of accolades, she's met with handcuffs and accusations of defamation and harassment. But fear not, dear readers, for Ms. Whisper is always on the case, ready to peel back the layers of deception and hold the powerful to account. In this cutthroat world of political intrigue, even the bravest truth-seekers like Violet Shard aren't safe from the claws of injustice. So, keep your ears to the ground and your eyes peeled, because when it comes to unravelling the truth, there's no hiding from the relentless pursuit of Ms. Whisper. #StandWithViolet

Her phone buzzed—an SOS. She shot a text back that she’d be there soon. Though even with her foot planted to the floor of her beemer she knew she’d never break an hour. Hastily rummaging through her overnight bag, she retrieved a somewhat acceptable dress (she didn’t own many); though the party might've been cancelled, she was certain Gray's mom wouldn't want the reminder. Hastily, she made her way over to the shower, and tried her best to find the password to get the hot water working longer than two seconds.

She did her best to keep her hair from getting wet, as she washed her nervous sweat from under her armpits. Chelsea hadn't seen this coming without a fight, but nabbing a journalist? This wasn't just a hiccup; it was the kind of move that had First Amendment lawyers rubbing their hands with glee.

She gave up trying to tune the shower into submission and let the cold water run down her back, as she wracked her brain for a way to assist Violet beyond mere page views. Nothing. Nothing.

When it came down to taking action, what good was being Ms. Whisper if all she had in her arsenal were a sharp tongue and a quick wit? That certainly didn't grant innocent journalists a Get Out of Jail Free card, did it?

After a quick drying session (as evidenced by her dress clinging to her back and making it a challenge to slide down over her thighs), Chelsea grappled with her wayward curls, victims of the fierce heat akin to the Battle of Waterloo. With her belongings in tow, she checked out of the motel, conceding that, for the time being, there was little she could do for Violet. As for Gray, a sense of obligation stirred within her to mitigate the unintended turmoil she had caused him. Nonetheless, she refrained from assuming full culpability, acknowledging that the root of this mess lay primarily with his father. All she’d done was overhear a phone call, sneak into his office at night, and make a few dozen or so copies of a report that she only wished now had more than just Congressman Harris’ name to it.

Pulling up to Gray’s house, adjacent to her own, Chelsea switched off the ignition and discreetly covered her overnight bag with one of Mac’s car seat covers in the backseat before stepping out and making her way inside. The atmosphere was sullen, with white chairs being shuffled in and out from the patio to a van parked out front. From a distance, Chelsea observed Nora overseeing the operation with an overflowing wine glass in hand. She couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility for the sombre mood, knowing she had played a part in it, at least partially.

Following the faint strumming of a bass, Chelsea ascended the stairs, purposefully bypassing Mr. Whitlock’s study. She had been instructed to call him Brody, but it just didn't sit right with her. Instead, she made her way down to Gray’s room at the end of the second floor. Her fingers brushed against the wooden door as she announced herself before slipping inside.

"So, on a scale from six-pack therapy to a spa retreat in the German highlands, how concerned should I be about you?" She offered a tentative smile. However, the instant she caught the strains of "Darn The Dream" by Ron Carter, being plucked, she realised she was entering yodelling territory.

[dysfunctional-family-fight]

Round Two

The Gravity Brothers (Bungou Stray Dogs) VS The Reynolds + Charlie + Mac (It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia)

The Gravity Brothers

Members: Chuuya Nakahara & Paul Verlaine

Propaganda:

"They’re both products of the same government experiment, one where Verlaine was a clone made of code who believed Chuuya was as well. Despite no biological relation Verlaine insists on calling Chuuya his brother because of the experiments. Verlaine killed his (implied romantic) partner to protect Chuuya and then proceeded to kill anyone Chuuya cared about to convince him to run away and live in the French countryside together. They did team up to hurt the head of the experiments before fighting each other, leading to Verlaine being captured and essentially held hostage by the mafia Chuuya works for. Chuuya hates Verlaine, who still cares about him, but Chuuya won’t hesitate to refer to him as Verlaine’s younger brother as a way of getting Verlaine to do things for him." "verlaine killed all of chuuya's friends so chuuya joins him on a quest to basically kill all humans. actually went on a quest to kill anyone chuuya loves so he has no one left but him. is an artificial human and thus is certain chuuya must be one too. freed him from torture so he can go full rage mode and kill a bunch of people. chuuya also got to torture him in return tho (also some necessary context: chuuya was 16 during this). tried to fight each other to death multiple times. normal sibling behavior really 👍"

The Reynolds + Charlie + Mac

Members: Frank Reynolds, Dennis Reynolds, Dee Reynolds, Charlie Kelly and Ronald 'Mac' Macdonald

Propaganda:

"Frank raised Dennis and Dee but they found out that he's not their biological father when the twins were in their late 20s, he was also a terrible father the entire time. Charlie lives with Frank and they share a bed and believed for years that Frank was maybe probably Charlie's bio dad. Mac lives with Dennis and they have a whole thing going on that I won't go into rn but it's gay and weird and it's been 17 years of this shit. There's an episode where they go on a Family Feud show and Mac is included in the Reynolds family for the day despite not having the name or the possible blood connection. They're all horrible to each other and the people around them but ultimately they love each other and they're the only ones who'll put up with them."

[oceancamp]

🌌, 🤍, 🖥️, 🍺, 🥊, 🎉 and 🎧 for the halo ask game :D

thank you so much for the ask!!

🌌 - what made you interested in halo?

So because of Wolf 359 I became obsessed with the character dynamic where there's a person and their AI bestie and from what i could gather from gifsets with Chief and Cortana I thought they'll likely fuck me up as much as Eiffel and Hera in Wolf 359. AND THEN THEY DID. 10000000/10

🤍 - favourite halo character?

Hell there's so many of them but to name a few in no particular order:

Arbiter cause it still fucks me up how great his story is + when i first played Halo 2 i was sort of freshly ex catholic and well. And I love to see his dedication to making things better and the way he approaches that.

Kurt cause *gesturing to all of Ghosts of Onyx* yeah. I can't think about it too much without crying

Rtas Vadum (here's my recommendation for Shadow of Intent)

Chief cause *gesturing to all of Halo* but what really cemented it was Fall of Reach showing how much he blamed himself for stuff outside of his control like the fucking augmentation deaths and how reading his convo with Mendez about that made me wanna tear my hair out. Like holy fuck what was done to him was so fucked up and he doesn't even realize the full extent of itttt.

Cortana - beside her realtionship to Chief I loved seeing her work on all those ships in First Strike including the whole capture of the flagship and then all that stuff with the slipspace crystal

Six - there's the tragedy of them signing up to get revenge against the covenant and then being used by ONI against other humans that makes them live rent free in my head, plus there's so much unexplored by canon potential - the Assembly datapads, their interactions with Kat as another Beta company Spartan, what would their thoughts on Spartans and ONI be given what he was used for compared to what he wanted? Also I wished he had a chance to talk to Cortana too, it would maybe make him happy to hear about her hacking Ackerson's bank account, even if for obvious reasons he wouldn't be able to talk about their previous work freely and Cortana wouldn't probably be able to share that freely too.

Jacob Keyes - I'm really fond of all his stunts with ships plus the terminal about him trying to resist the flood fucks me up.

🖥️ - favourite AI?

Beside Cortana for reasons mentioned above, I love Mac from Contact Harvest a lot (idk if you've read the book yet so I'm not gonna spoil much, just that he starts off as kinda endearing and then stuff gets revealed that makes him fascinating and then finally the epilogue makes me cry). I also think that the more ONI-affiliated AIs are interesting too, like Black Box or even Araqiel cause of how they rationalize their participation in all the fucked up shit compared to, for example, Deep Winter trying to prevent the gammas from getting augmented the way they were. Plus even here it's interesting to look at how they interacted with or saw others like BB joking with Osman in Rossbach's World or Araqiel calling Ackerson good/honorable in First Strike (can't remember the precise word used but still it's so funny like bro you probably killed people together).

🍺 - who would you have a drink with?

Hmm maybe the Grey Team? Like even with my decent alcohol tolerance I probably wouldn't keep up with Spartans for long but still. A small price to pay for hanging out with Adriana.

🥊 - who are you beating the shit out of?

I know Ackerson did get wrecked by those brutes but it wasn't enough for me and every time I remember that the whole thing got framed as heroic I feel like adding on another hit. I'd say I hope every single S III + Kurt lined up to punch him in the afterlife but really it would be cruel to force them to have to put up with him in any way again lmao.

(And while we're here I'll respond to your answer to my ask and say I feel similar to you about Jun lmao. Like Jun bro why are you helping make the torture labirynth of Spartan projects even worse.)

🎉 - share your favourite character headcanon

I think the headcannon that Six loves flying is kinda popular from what I saw in some fics (which makes me damn happy) and my own take on that is that it started from a suggestion from Kurt, like a nudge for Six to get some advanced pilot training, after he noticed that Six didn't really like being compared with Chief by ONI people who were hyped to create another hyper-lethal vector. I like to imagine Kurt saying something like "You know, John always hated flying" and maybe the interest was there before but now it really kicked off cause they got encouraged to pursue something that they as a person Liked and something that set them apart yknow?

(btw i got so many Six headcannons, here i went with probably the least sad one jhgfdjhg)

🎧 - song you associate a halo character with

Foreign Skies by The Dreadnoughts is such a Noble Six song to me, fits both the theme of the tragedy of Reach and of the happiness of being with the team even for that short time.

thanks again for the ask, and for your reply to mine, I especially like your thoughts about Dot, gonna listen to those firefight voicelines later, and I absolutely agree on Six being a cat person

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Halloween(1978)- The Night Michael Myers Escaped Grove Sanitarium" on YouTube

There's another reason for him losing his face and we need that to happen too right now nobody can get any answers out of him he almost got killed fully and the information is getting out that he has something people need other than the ship keys and so forth and it has to do with the status of Saturn and the mega computers and people after Mac too try and get that information they can't do anything but the face is similar it'll be someone obscure and people might be able to capture and question him successfully or you might get harmed. But usually they check other things and they'll know a little bit about it and we actually need people to understand they're up there

Hera

I see I hear our people and they say they can see your halo

Zues

It's true and we hear you it's good and we know why

Thor Freya

It's about the AI and we're here for you we will help you we do here that you're under stress it's because of your bo and other and he's getting us going and we're going to do it now

Olympus

The nephilim are going to get this ships ready and we do understand they have potential being taken over but those are part of what's happening

I need to know something how well do I understand this fairly well I see the images and I have them here and I'm satisfied and happy and I know it's going to happen and I'm ready I do love you all and I need you and I need him intact and boy shucks every day is a torturous day and he tells me today we need to take a break and get up and sleep and with the boys handling this very stressful today and we do need you but you need your strength to help so I did that and I came back and I'm helping and saying thank you and it's an odd time to see it and to do that but mostly it's makes it easier I just did something he's trying to rest too this movie is going on and this is why

Hera

It's a game it's a roost but really it's extremely dangerous and these computers are on their own somewhat and they do need to be contained they're extremely dangerous and we are aware of their presence and what they are and how many but we do know that they're capabilities would be beyond their entire Army of satanists if fully activated in armed with equipment and more that at the capacity that they can get to they can easily take over the solar system and harvest the balls and I'm the diamonds or something to keep in mind

Zues

Oh goshokgood

Hera

We are aware of the potential outcome in that is what it is it is disastrously huge there's far too many of them and there's too many that are entombed and it is Max plan

Olympus

[erinsworld]

Hmm... Now see, I'm going to go with claustrophobia. For Jack Dalton. Of course. 😉

Because I feel that being in high places doesn't occur as often, or can be as avoided as being in a small or tight, enclosed space.

And that irrational fear, it sneaks up on him.

Like, sure, he's been captured more than a few times. Held in small, dark holes or even a cramped box or two, the enemy hoping to quicken the time taken to break him. But those are afterthoughts, because he survived and healed and left behind him the torture he was put through.

And then Cario happens. And yeah, that damn sarcophagus was tight, and dark, but Mac was injured and nearly incoherent from the blow to the head and Jack couldn't think about anything else except figuring a way out of King Tut's digs and getting his partner to safety to think about anything else. And besides, a pact was made and Cairo was never discussed again.

Other incidences of being trapped or contained happen throughout the years, because he has Angus Macgyver as his partner and there's absolutely no rule book that he can follow and except the unexceptable becomes the norm as he holds on tight and enjoys the rush of the ride.

And, yeah, sure, that coffin in NOLA, the flames licking at his feet, the heat that singed the hair on his arms and the back of his neck was the closest he's come to believing he'd come to the end of his house money, but Mac saved him. Pulled him out of the literal flames, and paid the price. Jack had survived. A cat with another life and Jack spent the next couple months being Mac's hands.

Its a regular day. A sunny afternoon that it suddenly hits him. They're running through the woods from their latest bad guys du jour, laughing and arguing about Jack's insistence that they're going to run into big foot while they're this deep in the forest.

He's the one that spots the cave. Around a sharp curve in the rocks and hidden by the thick shrubbery and neither of them lose a step as they pivot and slide inside.

Jack barely makes it past the mouth of the cave before his body just... Stops. Like something has taken him over or he's hit some kind of forcefield that he keeps telling Mac he has to build. His body refuses to obey him. To move one more millimeter.

And he stands there stunned. Tremors shaking him so bad he feels like he's about to fall apart as he fights to breathe.

this or that - whump tropes (63)

[droughtale]

Daily Routine (Droughtale)

Okay this is the most fucked thing anybody in our system has ever written. This was written by our headmate Weniviere (she/her).

If you’ve seen this drawing, you’re well aware that Lily was captured by a flower named Echo. How and why she was kidnapped will be revealed through Celest’s journey, but the point being is that she has been stuck with them for around twelve years by the time Celest has come.

This takes place seven years into that (five years before Celest’s arrival.) And this will not be a fun thing to read by any means.

Mega TW: Rape/sexual abuse. The main actions are not detailed, but are highly referenced/implied. There is two moments written in detail, one of which is forced-kissing and the other is non-consentual hickeys. Other triggering content includes psychological torture, stockholm syndrome, masochism (as a trauma response/coping method), disassociation/derealization, manipulation, dehumanization, degrading, forced labor/slavery, starvation, mentioned suicide/self-harm, and references to physical torture.

Theres also the consumption of blood, but...this is droughtale. Its all about a drought and thirst. Don’t think we need to explain much further there.

Note: “Echline” is basically echoflower blood. It’s the juices inside of echoflowers. In our AUs, it causes temporary paralyzation when drank. It also is hydrating to drink and good for cleaning (similar to hand-sanitizer.)

===========================

===========================

Lily could say with confidence she had adjusted to her newly assigned routine.

It had only been a month since the schedule had changed, but Master had been patient, understanding that she needed re-conditioning. For that, she felt grateful, as it meant that punishments for slipping up were more merciful.

More than anything, Lily was excited . As terrifying and dizzying as the last few weeks had been for her, she could honestly say that she was becoming not only skilled in her newly assigned tasks, but was adjusting to the change of pace quickly and efficiently. She couldn’t help but feel pleased with herself, which was a nice and extremely rare feeling to experience so early in the morning.

Over the last seven years, it had grown far less often that such feelings of pride rose up in her chest and squeezed at her lungs. She welcomed the feeling with desperate, open arms – anything to drown out the screaming noise in her head that had begun haunting her. It had started the day her body had been claimed, and seemed to only grow louder the longer she sat or lay still. But she wouldn’t be letting those voices abuse her today; not when she could force the pride she felt to yell louder.

Michael probably wouldn’t have been so proud. He probably would have felt disgusted with the confidence she felt in this. But it was no matter; he had yet to come back, and seeing as it had been weeks, she agonizingly had to admit he probably never would...

...But that was beside the point of the current matter. The current matter was that she get through her day flawlessly; no mistakes. No slip-ups. She was going to make Echo proud of her. Maybe even proud enough to receive a reward!

Oh, what would she be given? The options were all so wonderful, dancing around in her mind in an almost taunting manner. Food could never fail to bring her begging on her knees, even before it became such a limited treat. Her heart had always gone soft for food.

Her last reward had been four days ago; it was, of all excellent options her Master so generously kept for her, a bowl of mac and cheese. The flavorful cheddar made it easy to distract herself from the salty iron that stung on her taste-buds, from the blood the noodles had been cooked in. She basked in the memory of it; sweet, melty cheese, delightfully dancing on her tongue.

Echo had even said it was possible that she may be rewarded a cinnamon bunny if she continues being a polite and well-behaved pet, or an unspeaking prettied-up doll. She sure hoped that would be her reward today; she was going to persevere this with all her soul, if it offered even the slimmest of chances of her favorite treat blessing her tongue. Not to mention a bit of weight inside of her stomach.

She shook off her thoughts of food, smacking her face to snap out of the trance and get out of bed. It wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark – she knew far too well that Echo did not take kindly do hurting herself, even when it’s an accident. When and how she physically suffered was a privilege owned by them, and them alone.

Sitting up on her mattress, she glanced at the clock above the metal door. It read 5:30 AM – perfect. Thirty minutes to prepare herself as best she could. The newly found schedule had thrown off her sleep, due to her body’s readjustments to her new physical duties...but it was no bother. It’s not as if sleep would rid her of the exhaustion she felt by the end of the day. She just hoped that this time, the aching sorrow squeezing her soul would be worth it.

She got out of bed, ignoring the sound of cracking bones, and the shivers of pain they sent through her as they snapped in her body; bone rubbing into bone, or piercing and jabbing muscle and skin. It was a delightful experience, and she wished she had time to press on every tortured spot on her body, so she could feel that pleasurable ache that rocked through her when she did, leaving her gasping and whimpering. Every wound and strain put on her was but a symbol of Master’s care for her; the dedication and effort they put into training her.

Realizing she had already spent four minutes just getting out of bed, she knew she needed to quicken her pace if she were to be ready for her Master’s awakening. Hurriedly, she fixed the sheets on her bed, fluffing the pillow and folding the blanket neatly. By the time she was sure that the bed would be to Echo’s liking, she had used up yet another three minutes of precious time.

Lily knelt down to browse through the clothes Echo had provided the night before. They were folded neatly by her mattress, which made her cheeks go warm with a blush – it was not often that they folded her clothes for her. It was a kindness she had earned, and she wished she could boast it to the world.

The clothes chosen were a lot more covering than what she had grown to expect the past few weeks. Instead of a bikini or lingerie, she was provided with a skirt and loose crop-top. Both of which, of course, were made of fabrics colored Echoflower blue. Lily couldn’t help the excitement that pounded in her damaged heart – it had been weeks since she had worn something so comfortable!

Her collar and a bag of Echline wipes were neatly placed out as well. It was evident what day she would be having; a pet day. She much preferred to be a pet. Toy-days were agonizing in comparison, as she was forced to sit or lie paralyzed and helpless as Echo played with her however they so desired.

Often times, on toy days, she had no choice but to get lost in the pool of her unwanted thoughts, sinking in them until she couldn’t see any light leaking through the waves and currents; when everything turned dark and muffled. Her head and soul grew tight the deeper she sank, feeling as though they’d pop from the pressure. The pressure would grow stronger, and stronger, crashing into her and tugging at her insides, constricting her until she exploded from it. It was only after that release that she could escape the wretched water that had spread throughout her mind.

She shook her head. Dwelling on it right then was a waste of time. She picked up the wipes, carefully getting to work cleaning her body as best and thoroughly she could in such short time. She couldn’t help but whimper at the way it stung and burned whenever it brushed over the cuts on her skin; like hand sanitizer on an open wound. She couldn’t tell if the pain provided relieving bliss or if she was in psychological misery.

Wiping off the remains of the previous day’s bedtime-routine was the hardest part of her morning cleaning. It always dried on her skin overnight, making it a struggle to peel off. She was extra careful to not let any of the seeds fall and get lost on the floor; Echo would be furious if flowers were to grow in her room, especially if it were due to her own incompetence.

But the most difficult part of it wasn’t how well it stuck to her skin, or how careful she had to be not to make a mess. It was the mental warfare that reigned in her mind, as she fought against her body’s natural urges. Seeing the result of Echo’s pleasure, coated in the space between her thighs...it forced her to bite down the bile rising in her throat, swallowing hard and taking deep shaky breaths.

There was no time to cry; crying was best done at night, when it was all over. She had to keep her mind focused if she wanted to get through the day as peacefully as possible. So, she ignored the agonizing ache within her mind and soul, trying her hardest to focus only on the task at hand, rather than the feelings and thoughts trembling through her body.

It was ironic, in a way, that the results of Echo’s pleasure disgusted her so much...and yet their pleasure was exactly what she was aiming for today. Exactly what would get her a reward.

She felt so dirty, and sticky, and marked. And it hurt – not the physical soreness of being used so roughly, no, that’s not what hurt her. It hurt that she was being used at all . It hurt that she was no longer a person in Monsters’ eyes. She was many things; a murderer, the cause of the drought, a toy, a doll, a human pet, a personal slave. But not a person. Never a person.

And now, the only one she had left in the Underground that treated her as a living being was gone. She wondered if he stopped seeing her livelihood that day. Maybe seeing her get repurposed in such a perverted way disgusted him to the point where he wanted no part in it. No part in her life. She wondered if her parents would think that way too, if they were to see what had become of her.

It took every fiber of strength in her soul to blink back the tears gathering in her eye, and to calm her shaky breaths.

Once she finished cleaning herself thoroughly, she put the dirty wipes back in the bag they came in, tucking it in the corner and glancing at the clock. She only had seven minutes to get dressed. Not the best amount of time, but it would make-do. She really needed to get quicker at wash-up, but that was something that would take practice and experience, both of which she was still lacking in.

She carefully slipped into the skirt and crop-top, twirling and giggling joyfully. She liked the way the skirt swayed against her body. It had been so long since she’d last worn one, and she was so grateful Echo had chosen it for her today. It had been quite some months since she had felt this cute! Not to mention comfortable.

She clicked her collar into place, adjusting it so her name-tag was in the right spot. As always, it was tight against her throat, squeezing the rope-burns on her neck uncomfortably. It choked ever-so-lightly, but was nothing she couldn’t handle; nothing compared to when Echo’s vines or roots were lodged in her throat, creeping down into her lungs. If she had learned to breathe through that, then she wouldn’t allow a simple collar to bother her.

The clock struck 6AM, and the alarm rang. It sounded of bells, crashing together in a cry of warning. A sound of alert, which made her ears ring and her head feel dizzy.

She dropped down in front of the door, adjusting her body to be kneeling submissively. In her head, she began to count to thirty, trying to drown out the blaring alarm blasting through her eardrums. It was when she reached twenty-eight seconds that the metal door clicked open, and the alarm automatically turned off.

Echo’s vines slipped through the cracks of the door, gently pulling it open the rest of the way. Their mouth turned upwards into a grin upon spotting her, to which she could feel her heart pound and soul tremble.

“Why good morning, my sweet sunflower!~” they paused, giving her a chance to respond...after several seconds of silence, their smile turned more genuine, and their voice became a satisfied whisper, “Oh, what a good girl! Speak.”

She tries to keep the pride bubbling in her chest from creeping into her voice, but some of it slipped through despite her best efforts, “Good morning, Master...!”

“Oh my! Someone is in a good mood. How delightful,” they chuckled, offering a vine to her,

“Stand. It's time for some breakfast. I sure am hungry!”

Lily nodded, standing and gently taking their vine into her hand, to which it snaked its way around her arm, tracing a flower-pattern repeatedly on her shoulder. She shivered at the sensation; even after so many times experiencing it, she was unsure if it was pleasurable or repulsive.

She tried to ignore the aching in her stomach, begging for its own fill. She would eat later. She just had to do well today. Her hunger wouldn’t go unrewarded, not today.

“I think this is a pancake morning, don’t you?” they asked, in a sweet and curious tone, as they led her through the living room and into the kitchen (which also doubled as a dining room.) Lily tried to ignore the desperate ache in her stomach, as it growled yearningly at the mention of food.

“I will eat later,” she thought insistently to herself, “My efforts won’t go unrewarded this time. I will be fed today. I will. I just need to be strong. I just need to be obedient. I need to keep being a good girl.”

She nodded, forcing a smile. Echo either didn’t notice the force behind it, or was amused by the strain, because they made no annoyed comment.

Upon reaching the kitchen, Echo let go of her arm, settling in at the dining table, petals twitching. She glanced at the clock. 6:04 AM. She had fifty-six minutes at most, but it was best to be done before 6:30 if she wanted to avoid boring Echo. Boring them always led to negative consequences; not punishments, just...uncomfortable behaviors.

She had made pancakes enough times to remember every ingredient, without using one of her three lifelines. She hoped not to use any lifelines during her cooking today. If she was able to succeed without asking for assistance, she may receive an extra reward – and that was a chance she just couldn’t pass up, especially when she felt ready to collapse at any moment from the emptiness of her stomach. In fact, the thought of a meal was quite literally the only thing that gave her the strength and will to stay conscious and on her feet.

The first thing she did was turn on the stove, at a low setting. She had learned very quickly just how important heating the stove was, back when she was first being trained. It heated up much slower than any of the stoves on the surface did – likely because most Monsters’ preferred cooking with fire magic than some stovetop. Back then, she had turned it on after preparing the ingredients...she had panicked, begging for It to heat up faster, as the clock ticked down.

She could still remember it in vivid detail. The vines pinning her to the stovetop, the skin of her back and chest pressed against the slowly heating metal, the smell and sensation burning and boiling, the feeling of Echo’s teeth scraping into the melty skin that peeled easily and agonizingly off of her muscles, the feeling of their long slimy tongue sliding into the open wound, and-

She shook her head, snapping herself out of it before she fell too deeply to escape. That would not be happening again today. As far as she was concerned, it would never happen again. It had been seven years since then, and she had not slipped up once in that time. Her lesson was long since learnt.

Swiftly, she opened the cupboards, pulling out a cast-iron pan, a medium glass bowl, oil, flour, baking soda, and sugar, setting them neatly on the counter. Swiftly, she moved on to the fridge, gathering the containers of cooled blood and echline, and sliding them onto the counter as well. She could feel her Master’s eyes following her every move, and a familiar feeling settled in her chest – a feeling she could best describe as how rabbits must feel when stalked by wolves.

She pulled out every measuring cup and spoon she knew would be necessary, and grabbed a whisk. Even after all these years, it still annoyed her that they didn’t get an electrical mixer, as it would make the process of cooking and baking much easier for her frail arms...but the excuse they made, that it would waste electricity, seemed fair to her. They were on a limited supply, aside from the batteries and machinery that they managed to gather from the dump, and wasting that on such mundane things was understandable to avoid.

By the time she had measured, poured, and whisked the batter together, it was 6:11. She slid each dish she had used aside, stacking them to be cleaned later, before preparing the cast-iron pan with some oil and pouring 1/3rds of the pancake-batter into it. Behind her, Echo whistled in an impressed manner.

“You’re moving fast today, arent’ya? What a good girl. I might give you a treat!~”

Lily felt her face heat up, both from the compliment and the excitement of receiving a reward. She didn’t say anything in response – she wasn’t supposed to, unless told to speak – however, she did turn her head to smile gratefully in their direction. Their eyes lit up at her smile, and they licked their lips, smirking pridefully. It made her heart race, seeing that look on their face...though she wasn’t sure if it was racing in a good way.

She hastily turned back to her cooking, flipping the pancake to let the other side cook. Once it was finished, she swiftly grabbed a plate from the nearby shelf, and scooped it onto there. She repeated this process with the rest of the batter, ending up with three large pancakes in total. The time was 6:27.

She drizzled some of the refrigerated blood atop, much like one would do with syrup, before grabbing a fork, knife, and napkins and swiftly serving Echo their breakfast.

“Good girl!” Echo exclaimed, clapping their vines proudly, “Come sit with me when you’re done.”

Lily nodded obediently. She could feel her hands trembling – the anxiety that had been building in her gut seemed to be finally taking effect – but she didn’t let it disrupt her as she put the ingredients back in their respective spaces. It took only around three minutes to complete, as she didn’t need to do the dishes or clean the counters until later, and she felt relieved to have this part of her morning routine finished.

Carefully and cautiously, Lily climbed into Echo’s embrace, closing her eye in exhaustion, as she felt their icy-cold vines curling around her body. It wasn’t often that she was allowed to sit at the table – the floor was where she was typically assigned – so she knew that the fruits of her labor were already beginning to pay off.

Slowly, she could feel their vines creep around the bare skin of her waist and stomach, squeezing firmly, but not quite uncomfortably. She pressed her ear into Echo’s stocky chest, listening to the sounds of their breathing and swallowing, as they helped themself to their meal.

“Mmm~! It’s quite delicious, sunflower. You sure know how to treat a fella like me, dontcha?”

One of their vines traced against her cheek, firmly grabbing ahold of her chin and tilting her head upwards. She opened her eye, aware that they wanted her to look. Their gaze had a predatory lust, their grin reeking of danger. But she knew they wouldn’t take it too far; not so early in the morning, when it would leave her exhausted for the rest of the day. No, they always saved the worst of it for evening, when her duties had been completed...or while she was still completing her duties, as a test of her focus.

They leaned forward, and she did too, knowing fighting was futile. Her mouth met theirs, and their tongue snaked its way around hers, slimy and invasive as it squirmed around her mouth. It tasted of blood, which immediately forced her to fight the urge to gag...but underneath that wretched flavor was the sweetness of the pancakes, which her stomach howled and ached painfully at, and her tastebuds tingled excitedly. It made her kissing more enthusiastic; she would do anything for more of that tasteful delight. Her body screamed at her desperately; begging, pleading for her to provide it with substance of any kind. But she had nothing to give except for a lingering aftertaste of a meal that wasn’t her own.

After several minutes of this, Echo broke the kiss. Their face and petals glowed pink with pleasure. She could feel that her face was heated, too, but not from attraction of any kind. No, her face was hot with humiliation, as shame spread through her, and settled uncomfortably in her soul. She felt so perverted. So dirty. But no tears escaped her eye, despite how badly she yearned to sob. She couldn’t exhaust herself with tears; not if she wanted to have energy to spare later.

“What an enthusiastic pet you’ve become! I see you are beginning to enjoy yourself. I knew you would. You just needed some time to accept it!” they swooned, winking at her. Their taunting teases made her heart pound, aching with each beat. She could tell that they could see her self-hate...and she could tell it aroused them, as well. But they made no comment on it, simply returning their attention to their breakfast.

A few minutes later, they finished their meal. Their grip on her grew loose enough for her to get out without any trouble. She did exactly that, slipping out of their lap, before collecting the dishes on the table and stacking them on the counter for later cleaning.

Echo stretched as they got out of their seat. Lily knew all too well what was next on the schedule; she could feel the pressure rising inside of her, her lungs constricting as panic bubbled its way through her veins. She was hyperventilating, gasping for breath.

Echo scooped her into their vines, cradling her softly as they moved out of the kitchen, back through the living room and down into the hall. They spoke in a soft adoring tone, of which she assumed was supposed to soothe her, but only made her heart race faster.

“Shhh...it’ll be alright, my precious sunflower. Remember, I will only be gone a few hours. It’s for your own good, my sweet pet. I wouldn’t want you hurting yourself, now, would I? Speak.”

She nuzzled her face into their vines, desperately wrapping her arms around their neck. She could feel her whole-body shivering in dread. Her voice came out shaky and meek; pathetic.

“...Hu-hurting m-myself would b-be selfish...”

Echo nodded, patting her back softly as they stopped in front of the closed door to the isolation room, “You remembered! Good girl. And why would it be selfish? Speak.”

“B-because i-it makes y-you f-feel unappreciated a-and...l-like y-you're a b-bad caretaker.”

Echo nodded once more, whispering “good girl” under their breath as they set her down in the corner of the hallway. They used their small roots to pick the lock of the nearby supply closet (they preferred that over keys, as Lily had stolen the keys before). They went inside for a moment, humming to themself before pulling out handcuffs, a neck-brace, and a helmet with a face cage.

They shut and re-locked the door, gesturing for Lily to stand. She did so obediently, though her knees felt so weak that it was difficult to keep her balance. Echo seemed to take notice of this, gently holding her still as they put her hands behind her back and cuffed them.

“Oh, sunflower, you know it brings me no joy leaving you here. But unfortunately, I have work to attend, and I cannot rely on you not to do something idiotic, can I? Don’t you know how worried I would be, to come home and find you have run away, or worse, decided to end your life? I would be all alone again, with nobody to love me...”

Guilt weighed on Lily’s soul at the look of sadness that settled on her master’s face. She wanted nothing more than to hug them and kiss them. To caress their petals and whisper words of reassurance. But she had not been given permission to do so, so she just...stared at them empathetically.

Carefully, Echo slipped the helmet on her head, clipping it into place. She still remembered when it had become a routine part of isolation; when they had caught her bashing her head into the wall, bloodied and hardly conscious. It was an attempt to get the noises blasting from every end of the room to shut up. She had felt overwhelmed and disoriented, as the room always made her feel. All she could think at the time was that if her head was broken, the sounds would stop. But Echo had found her before she had taken it too far, and now made sure it wouldn’t happen again. The neck brace had been added as an extra measure, to be sure that she didn’t find a way to snap her neck.

Echo carefully removed Lily’s collar. However, before slipping on the neck brace, they leaned in and scraped their teeth teasingly against her neck, nibbling at it softly. A shudder of pleasure ran down her spine, and she couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped her throat.

Echo sucked the skin fondly, tracing their tongue along the vertebrae of her neck. She could feel herself melting into the wall behind her, and her already weak knees gave out. Echo just laughed adoringly, pulling back and admiring the flush on her face, as she stared up at them helplessly on the ground. Her heart was racing so hard that it made her nauseous.

“Awww~! What a sensitive girl you are,” they swooned joyously, as they carefully slipped the

brace around her neck, opening the door to the isolation room, “Now, head on inside, sunflower. We can pick up on that after my work and your chores, hm? Speak.”

“...Y-yes, Master...”

“Excellent girl.”

And with that, she crawled her way in (which was rather difficult to do with her hands behind her back), and watched as the door slid shut behind her, clicking as it locked.

She laid on the hard metal floor, shivering from the cold. At least she had more clothes on than any of the previous days this month, making the chilled room a bit more bearable. Still, it wasn’t anywhere close to as comfortable as the attire she used to be allowed, but she doubted Echo would ever allow her to return to that now.

She closed her eye and concentrated on slowing her breathing. She had found that if she could fall asleep before the noise began, then not only would she be able to get some extra rest and energy, but she would also sleep through isolation altogether. More often than not, though, she was incapable of drifting off in time, too panicked to put her mind at enough ease, and was forced to suffer through the next ten hours drowning in noise that made her feel like ripping into her skin and tearing out her hair.

This torment was nothing new, of course; she had experienced this on a daily for the last seven years, ever since she was captured. But despite that, it was one form of suffering she couldn’t seem to get used to, despite how often she was exposed to it. Perhaps it was because she couldn’t hear her own thoughts – or form any thoughts at all – with all the noises blaring in her ears. Or maybe it was because of how small the room was; how small the room made her feel, as if the walls were closing in on her, and she was being suffocated.

But more likely than anything else, it was probably because she was forced to listen to the most shameful and traumatic recordings of her own voice for every second of every hour she was isolated. Recordings of her screams, cries, and whimpers. Her pleading words and desperate begging. Recordings of words she was forced to say; words she knew her loved ones would be disgusted to hear coming from her mouth. And over the last month, it had become even more torturous; sounds of moans and gasping, of dirty pleas, and shuddering breaths.

It was all a reminder of what she deserved. Of her failures. Of the punishments she had earned. Of the disappointment she had caused for Echo. Of how unworthy she is. And it was not something she wished to dwell on, especially for so long.

Her soul shuddered in desperation and perseverance; she would sleep. She needed to sleep. Sleep before it begins. Sleep before it’s too late. She wouldn’t let it torment her today. She just needed to shut off her mind…

Next thing she knew, she was being softly shaken awake by bright blue vines. Relief and delight swelled in her chest. She had actually managed to fall asleep – had actually managed to sleep through the mind-numbing torment that would have ripped her into a mess of confusion and loneliness; of screaming, and blurs of colors, and desperation.

Her luck was extremely high that day, and she couldn’t have been more thankful.

Her hands were uncuffed and her helmet and brace had been removed. They clicked her collar back onto her neck, adjusting it in place. Once they had finished that, she hugged her Master, planting kisses of joy on each and every one of their petals. Echo chuckled at her enthusiasm, blushing at the affection.

“My, my, somebody is happy to see me! What a sweet girl...I see you slept while I was gone.”

Insecurity and fear twisted in her stomach. Would they be mad about that? Did they want her to stay awake the whole time? It was only now hitting her that this was the first time they had ever caught her sleeping here. She had never been told not to sleep here, but she also hadn’t been given permission to. She should have asked, she should have checked, she was going to be punished, they were going to bring her to the chamber, or the cooler, or the machine, she wasn’t ready for it, wasn’t prepared, she wasn’t, she wasn’t-

She was only pulled out of her train of thoughts when they hugged her firmly, and soothingly began to rub her back. She didn’t realize it, but she had begun hyperventilating; had begun slipping into a panic attack.

“Shhhh...oh my sunflower, it’s quite alright. There is nothing wrong with getting some rest while you are here. I could never be frustrated with you over something like that. As long as it is not disrupting your sleep-schedule, alright? Breathe.”

Lily obeyed, taking deep shuddering breaths in, and exhaling them softly. In her head, she repeated the same phrases over and over, until the instinctual panic within her subsided.

“They aren’t angry. I did nothing wrong. I am okay.”

Once she had calmed again, Echo straightened themself out, getting up and offering a vine to her. She took it without hesitation, stroking her fingers against the smooth and fuzzy surface.

“Now, now, I need you to get to work tidying up the house. Will you do that for me? Speak.”

“Yes, Master. I will do anything to make you happy.”

It was a trick question, seeing as she didn’t have a choice either way. But she knew exactly what they wanted to hear. Their petals fluttered happily, and they pulled her out of the isolation room, shutting the door behind her and picking the lock to the closet door once again, to put away the supplies she had just been wearing.

“Oh, what a fantastic girl you are~! So well-behaved today. Go on now and get your work completed, my flower. You will come see me in my bedroom when you are done, yes?”

She nodded obediently, well aware of the routine. Echo chuckled, patting her head.

“Good,” they said, voice husky and filled with yearning, before heading off to their room.

Lily rushed through her chores as fast as possible. Dishes, laundry, gathering and taking care of trash (including the bag of used echline wipes from that morning,) wiping down tables and counters, sweeping, mopping, dusting. She kept a close eye on the clock, anxious with every minute that ticked down. It was 5:37 PM when she had begun her chores, and by the time she was done, it was 7:19. Luckily, there was never much to clean, seeing as she did this every day, so her focus was less on being thorough, and more on being quick.

She took a minute to catch her breath, wiping the sweat from her face and taking a quick trip to the restroom. Once she was done, she quickly wiped down the restroom as well, and swiftly headed towards Echo’s room.

She knocked on the door softly, to which they sing-song called back “cooomeee innn~!” They were laid across a yoga mat on the floor, face-down. She knew what to do; she was just waiting for the permission to do it.

“On your knees.”

She didn’t need to be told twice.

“Good girl~ now help an old fella out, won't you? My vines are feeling so tight after today’s work.”

She began massaging their vines. She knew exactly how much pressure to apply – where to touch, where to avoid, where to rub, where to push. Their body vibrated with purrs, soft moans escaping their mouth as their petals flushed. They always seemed to enjoy this to an uncomfortable extent, of which made Lily’s mouth feel dryer than usual, and her arms feel tense. But, as she always did, she powered through it, spending around an hour taking care of all of their knots and tensions. When they finally gestured for her to stop, her arms were aching and trembling from how much work she had put them through the last few hours.

Slowly, Echo stretched, pulling themself up. She knew what was coming - #5 of her schedule, the last event before bedtime and any possible rewards. Horror, disgust, terror, dread – they all bubbled and boiled in her veins, crashing in hot waves through her heart and soul, as Echo slid their way out the door to check how well her chores had been done.

“Go wait on the bed, my pet...~ I will be there once I see how good of a girl you were.”

She did exactly that. She sat herself on the bed, staring at the blanket as tears built in her eye. She was shaking so heavily, the entire bed squeaked underneath her. She shut her eyelid tightly, feeling as though she had been punched in the gut, and decided to go into her happy space. The space in her mind that she had created when things were just too painful. When life was too scary; when she needed to suppress the memories and pretend all of what was happening was fake. Just a nightmare. Its just a nightmare.

Everything that happened for the next three hours was a foggy mess in her mind. She was crying and begging. Writhing and gasping. Pleasure and pain shot through her every move. She could hear them whispering and speaking words of praise. But the sensations were all she could process. The words and actions behind those sensations...they were just noise and color. Not real. It couldn’t be real.

It couldn’t be. Her mind wouldn’t acknowledge it as such. When it was finally over, the exhaustion and strain her body had been put through crashed down on her all at once, as the fog lifted from her mind. Her throat and lungs burned, like the very air she breathed was made of flames. Her legs were numb and useless. Her chest and stomach itched from the rubbing of vines against them. Her arms were sore from being bound and held above her head for so long. But most dreadfully, everything between her thighs ached from overstimulation...and was once again covered in a thick coating of

Echo’s pleasure, which she would have to clean the next morning. Her soul felt like it may tear itself apart from the psychological agony of what she had been put through. But her head – her emotions and thoughts – they just felt empty. Disconnected. Unable to connect with the reality of what she had just been subjected to. Echo spoke, but their words were all just muffled noise. They scooped her into their vines, carrying her off to the dining room, and it was only then that she finally processed a single thought.

“I get a reward.”

Excitement and pride dimly rose in the back of her head, as her stomach practically flipped in bliss. For the first time in four days, she had pleased them enough to be fed . She didn’t even care if they kept true to their word of giving her a cinnamon bunny – she just wanted something in her stomach. Something to prove that what she had done that day was worth it.

Vines gently held her head up as her tongue burst with the joy of sweet icing and cinnamon. It was so creamy, and soft, and sweet – so delightful, like a dream, like a piece of heaven blessing her through all of the hell she was just put through. She liked the way it melted on her tongue. She liked the way it stuck to her teeth. She liked the way it felt sliding down her throat, making its way to her underfed stomach.

The bliss of one was already so magical and dream-like, that when she was fed a second and third one, she felt as though she may faint from shock. She was in tears again, but for the first time that day, they weren’t of agony. They were of relief; pure, unbridled relief.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” was all she could think. Whether that love was for the food or for Echo, she couldn’t quite tell; she just knew that having her starving, underweight body provided for made an overwhelming amount of love rush through her soul. When the food was finished, Echo carefully brushed and flossed her teeth, before bottle-feeding her echline to keep her hydrated and wash down her throat. Her body slowly fell limp as the paralyzing symptoms took effect.

She was taken to her bed and tucked in. Echo kissed her forehead, whispering a soft “Goodnight, Lily” as they headed out of the room to finish preparing for the next morning. Lily felt satisfied and proud; her day had been worth it, in the end.

By the time Echo had returned with the clothes and wipes for her next morning cleanup, she was long asleep.

[aprilwaters]

Part 21

Part 1  |  Previous  |  Next

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James and Ivy share a cup of coffee.

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James wanted a cigarette. Stress was baring down on him. His body was pulled tight. His teeth clenched hard. His gaze fixed on the laptop screen. His lungs and throat desperately craving the familiar scratch of smoke. But he wouldn’t do that anymore. Not after Ivy’s scars.

His eyes burned. He’d already found everything he could. Sitting here was useless. But the alternative was too much. Going upstairs to face Mac after today... he wasn’t ready. Why wasn’t Mac angry with him? He should be. Especially after last time. He almost wished he was. It would make more sense. He deserved it.

James couldn’t get it out of his head. All of it. 

Ivy’s scream on the phone while she was burned with his smokes. The sheer number of them. He remembered that pack. He’d bought it the morning before their capture. It was nearly full.

And the way she had lied so naturally when they rescued her. She’d looked Mac in the eye and swore she was okay. And only a day later, ran herself completely ragged. That had really scared him, watching her crumple to the ground, soaked in blood. How she’d frozen up after breaking that beer bottle. The way she’d flinched away from him while he absently smoked beside her. 

How she’d cowered from him today. 

The torture she’d faced. The lengths she’d gone to to protect them. The sheer number of burns she’d endured at their expense. And the secrets she’d bore, the pain she kept silent.

She’d taken on a responsibility that wasn’t hers to bare in an attempt to protect him. The fact that monster had hung onto his cigarettes for months for some kind of twisted opportunity made him completely sick. She’d set her pain aside so he wouldn’t have to know.

And what was worse was the accusation he’d hurled at her. He didn’t even know where that came from. The revelation had been so shocking. He’d lost himself in that moment, consumed by blind rage, he heard himself say it before he had a chance to stop himself. 

That smug bastard had savored the opportunity to mock her openly in front of her friends. His rage had been misdirected. He now knew where it belonged. With that horrible piece of shit.

James took a sharp breath and rose. It had been hours. He couldn’t sit here anymore. His cigarettes in the trash were too close to him. He made for the door. It was late. Mac should be in bed by now. But as he creaked the door open he heard faint noise upstairs.

Ivy’s voice was coming from the living room.

Even from the bottom of the stairs, he could hear her voice shaking. She’d been crying. Maybe she still was. He couldn’t hear any distinct words. And it would be wrong to eavesdrop. He went back into the study and closed the door silently.

She was home. That was good. And she was with Mac. It was best to just leave them be. She wouldn’t want to see him. Not after today. And he wasn’t sure he was ready to see her just yet, either.

He sat back down and lay his head on the desk.

Hopefully, she would stay. If anyone could convince her, it was Mac.

He slammed his fist down beside his head. A few times. Shaking the table. Waiting for his internal rage to dissipate. It didn’t. 

With the knowledge that she was home, and safe for the moment, James finally let his eyes close.

***

James awoke from a restless sleep, his head still on the table. Still wanting to smoke.

He made his way quietly up the stairs to the kitchen. Sunlight was starting to peak through the window. He started a pot of coffee and made for his bedroom. He took a rushed shower, mind swirling with things to say to her. Trying to piece together a proper apology.

He dressed himself absently and made his way back to the kitchen as the final drops of coffee plinked into the pot. He poured himself a cup and rested his back against the counter for a moment.

Ivy’s door cracked open. 

James froze. She stepped through the frame and froze in equal measure at the sight of him.

She looked terrible. She’d been crying. Maybe hungover. Maybe both. Her eyes were bloodshot with deep bags beneath them. Her skin was blotchy. She was still wearing yesterdays shirt. Her hair was fluffed out, a tiny ponytail still attached to a few curls above her head.

“Um... hi.” She murmured, not quite meeting his eye.

“Hey.” He managed hesitantly.

They stood in silence for a moment before Ivy began to move. To his horror, she was heading towards the kitchen. With her stride, her top swayed slightly, and James caught a glimpse of the scar on her collarbone he’d seen yesterday. He felt a tiny prickle behind his eyes. A tightening in his stomach. The threat of sweat on his brow.

She kept her head low and rounded the counter away from him.

She can’t even look at me.

She was moving purposefully, pulling open a drawer and rummaging. He averted his gaze, and moved his attention back to the coffee in his hand.

He heard Ivy produce a pill bottle and hurriedly shake it into her hand. From the corner of his eye he saw her throwing two into her mouth and swallowing hard. She grimaced and cast a cautious glance to the cabinet behind him. She opened her mouth and James stepped aside before she could ask. He was careful not to move too quickly. Not to startle her.

Ivy reached up and grabbed a drinking glass and moved to the sink, keeping her back to him.

“Rough night?” James heard himself ask automatically and was instantly filled with regret.

Fucking idiot.

She let out a bitter breath of confirmation, turning the faucet on.

James felt a lump in his throat and took another gulp of his coffee. He wanted to retreat. To give her space. To have a smoke.

With her back to him still, she hurriedly threw her head back, drained her glass, and refilled it. “I think my head might explode.” She mumbled, voice thick. She turned off the stream. The silence echoed throughout the kitchen. “Um...” She turned slowly to face him, eyes locked on the coffee pot. “Do you think I could have a cup of coffee?” 

The waver in her voice left him nauseous. “Sure.” He spun to reach into the cabinet with shaking hands. He snaked a finger through the handle of her favorite mug and pulled it out with anxious force. 

It flung from his grip.

It crashed onto the counter below. Shattering into large shards. Pieces flying out around him. Cascading around the kitchen and onto the floor.

He stared at it in shock. A violent tremor rocking through him. He was desperately willing himself to move. To apologize. To say something. Anything. To at least look at her. His body wouldn’t move. Sweat finally breaking across his brow. Rage and terror coursing through his veins. Hot shame radiating off of him.

Idiot. You fucking idiot. 

He sniffed hard. Blinked slowly. He finally came back to himself. James began to turn his head towards her, mouth open to apologize.

He jumped. Ivy wasn’t standing by the sink anymore. She was quietly retrieving the scattered pieces with delicate movement, slowly piling them on the kitchen island. She was looking past him, scanning for shards.

James blinked at her with confusion before picking up the few pieces by his hand. “Ivy, I’m so sorry.” he said hoarsely.

Ivy said nothing, just bent down and grabbed another cracked piece. Another pang of guilt shredded through him.

“I’ll get you a new one.” He offered remorsefully.

“You don’t need to.” She whispered, sweeping the pieces together with her hands. 

She spun and dug back in the drawer, producing a tiny tube of glue. He watched as she moved around the counter and pulled herself onto a stool.

She locked her gaze on a large shard and began to test it against the others. 

James watched her with caution, unsure of how to proceed. He turned back around and scanned, finding another large mug piece. He gingerly picked it up. “Oh, these too.” He said quietly, leaning across the counter and adding his to her pile.

“Thank you.” She replied softly.

Watching with apprehension, James felt a horrible dread in his chest. He wanted to leave. To go out. To replace it. For all of this to be over.

She found a match and began to unscrew the glue’s cap. It was resisting. Cemented together by previous use. She gave it a few frustrated twists with no success. 

Ivy finally looked up at James with damp eyes. His chest stung. “Can you open this, please?” She asked, gingerly extending her hand towards him.

He took it from her silently. It was sealed tightly. He grabbed the cap and twisted, channeling his self-directed anger and successfully pulled it free. He handed it back with trembling hands.

“Thank you.” She said with quiet appreciation and began to apply it along the seam. 

James grit his teeth for a moment, willing himself to move.

Do something. Anything. 

He took a sharp breath before slowly rounding the counter and pulling himself onto a stool beside her. To his relief, Ivy ignored his approach, concentrating hard on the pieces in her hand. James reached across her and pulled half the pile in front of him and began matching the floral pattern.

She released the shard she was holding and moved to the next, testing it and applying glue along the seam, pressing it to the mugs base. James could smell yesterdays alcohol still clinging to her. Her hands were shaking now.

You’re too close. Give her some space.

The shard fell free and clattered against the granite. Automatically, James hurriedly picked it up and pressed it back to the piece in her hand, careful not to touch her. He was relieved she didn’t flinch away.

Ivy swallowed audibly and moved to the next. "James?” She began quietly.

James jumped a little. “Yeah?” He released the piece and began searching for another.

“About yesterday...”

He took a sharp inhale.

She sighed. “I... trust you. I trust you completely. I’d do anything for you guys. I promise, I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell him anything. I know I lied. But, I swear. That’s it. That’s all. I’d never-”

He felt a stab of guilt. Ivy didn’t have to prove herself.

“I know.” He interrupted, a lump in his throat. “Ivy, I know. I’m so sorry.”

She reached over and timidly took the piece in his hand and began to apply glue. “No, it’s okay. I lied, and I understand why you would think-”

“No.” He said firmly. “I didn’t think that. I don’t know why I said that. I trust you.”

She nodded tearfully and pressed the next piece. “Okay.” Her voice crackled. “...I’m so sorry for yesterday.”

“It’s okay.”

“It wasn’t okay.” Her voice broke. A tear splashed on the counter. James pretended not to notice. He couldn’t face it. Not now. “I didn’t mean any of it. I don’t even know where that came from... I don’t... feel that way... I don’t want to quit.”

“I don’t want you to quit either. It’s alright. You don’t need to leave.” He handed her the next piece. The words weren’t sinking in. He was still replaying yesterdays conversation.

“I know I hurt you.” She continued, voice raspy. She was still avoiding his gaze. Eyes fixed on her hands. “I wish I could take it all back.”

I wish I could, too.

“Ivy, you’re fine.” He said, reaching across her and taking the glue in front of her. He began to apply it to a large shard. The mug was nearly complete. He just wanted this to be over.

“You don’t have to say that. I lost myself back there. And I was so awful to you... It wasn’t fair. I rely on you. And I trust you. And... I really look up to you.”

He looked at her in surprise. She was speaking sincerely, eyes fixed ahead. What she was saying didn’t make sense.

“I didn’t mean what I said yesterday. Please know that.” She repeated.

“I know.”

“Please...” She said, looking at him finally. He flinched a little, feeling her eyes on him. He kept his locked on the piece in his hand, concentrating hard, squeezing more glue. “I need you to understand.”

“I do.” He lied, attaching another piece. 

“I know how you are. It wasn’t fair of me to treat you like that.”

“Ivy, it’s really okay.” Her words weren’t meeting his ears. Suddenly, something came over him. He had to ask now. If he didn’t he never would. And then, he might never know. “Were they really mine?” He looked back at her. 

Her eyes burned. A tear rolled down her face. She forced a weak smile and gave her head a little shake. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Ivy-”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“Tell me.” His mouth was dry.

She looked back down to the mug in his hands for a moment. James knew what that meant. She gave a timid tearful nod.

He let out a shaky sigh. A sharp pain ripped through his chest. Her scream echoed in his ears. How many times had she screamed due to his-

“It wasn’t your fault.” She affirmed, a wobble in her throat. “You didn’t do this to me.”

James said nothing.

“You didn’t. Please believe me.”

“I know.” James said quietly. The words rolled off of him.

“I know yesterday... I said...” She stuttered for a moment before her voice rang clear. “James, I didn’t mean it. I don’t think that. Yesterday... I felt so cornered. So trapped. I just...”

She’s just trying to make me feel better.

He could still feel her hands pushing him hard in the chest. “I know.” He attached the final piece.

“I didn’t want you to know.”

Guilt bubbled in his gut. “I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

His mouth felt dry. “You don’t need to apologize. There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Please,” she pleaded, looking back at him again with sincere eyes, “I can’t have you avoiding me. I can’t have you feeling horrible every time you see me. I know it’s selfish. I know I don’t have the right to ask. But I can’t do it. I can’t stay here if we’re not okay. And I don’t know where else to go.”

“Hey, you don’t have to go.” He said with surprise.

“Please. I need you.”

I need you. Her words crashed through him. In that moment, something clicked.

“Okay.” He said firmly, nodding hard.

“I seriously don’t think I can do anymore. Not without you. Not without Mac. You were right, I’m falling apart. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Ivy-”

“I need you guys.”

“We need you, too.” He said finally, handing her the finished cup. “I get it. I promise. I understand. We’re okay.”

Ivy looked at him with appreciation. His tone had changed. She could tell that he meant it. “Okay. Thank you.”

He offered her a small smile and she returned it, batting a tear off her cheek. She rose from the counter and moved to the coffee, pouring herself a cup. He watched with a warmth brewing in his chest. A tension on his shoulders lifting. 

There was a familiar comfort in the room. A sense of normalcy in the chaos they’d battled. Ivy was staying. She was home. She was safe. He’d try his best to let it sink in. For her sake, but for his as well. 

But before he could stop himself, it was cycling again. He’d made her stay home that day. The day she was taken. He hadn’t found her, no matter how hard he looked. And as a result, she’d been tortured. She’d suffered in silence. She kept it secret. She couldn’t bare to have him know. They were his cigarettes. His disgusting habit. Some part of her must blame him. Why else wouldn’t she tell him? Why else would she say those things? Had there been more? Had it been worse? Was he so frightening that she couldn’t bare to face him? And it wasn’t just the burns. She’d been drowned, too. Why didn’t she tell him? How much-

“James?” She asked after a moment, turning to face him.

“Yeah?” He jumped back to himself.

She hesitated. “About Harrison yesterday... I think I could have got more.”

“You got enough.” He said firmly. He didn’t like where this was going.

“I got us one name. I think if I’d played along-” She stopped and restarted. “I wasn’t ready. But now, I am.” There was a fierce determination burning behind her eyes. “I don’t have anything to hide. And I’m not... scared anymore.”

He swallowed, the dread was back.

“And he can’t hurt me this time.” She continued. “I can play his stupid game. I’ll answer his questions. Let me see if I can get us anything useful. Something to end all of this. Just let me try.”

“You’ve done enough. You don’t have to do this.” He said gently. Her scream tore through his ears again. He fought the urge to wince.

“I know. I want to.” She replied sincerely.

James studied her. She looked like herself again, for the first time since she’d arrived home. Strong. Determined. Brave. He couldn’t rob her of this opportunity. Not if she wanted it. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Okay.”

________

Next

_______

Taglist:

@silverwhisperer1 @lave-whump

[justkurotingz]

masterlist ✰

this is solely to include in my bio description LMAO

go support my ao3 <333 tysm!!

i write fem!reader <3 requests are almost always open so shoot me a prompt! i’d be happy to write for you :))

spencer reid ✰

➩ period cramps | you have a bad day, so spence surprises you after work

➩ snowflake | you and spence enjoy family time with your daughter, watching the snowfall

➩ rainy days | you remember a special memory in the rain with your boyfriend, spence

➩ jetlagged | after a tiring case, you fall asleep on your now-boyfriend, spencer reid

➩ ice cream | you enjoy a perfect saturday with spence

➩ read to me | after waking up at 3am, you ask your boyfriend to read you to sleep

➩ shove you off a bridge | after ghosting spence for almost two weeks, you tearfully reconcile with the love of your life

➩ lucky to have him | warning: swearing and mentions of graphic torture | after being captured by an unsub, y/n and spence only have each other to withstand the torture

➩ ramble to me | spence is constantly interrupted by everyone, so you decided to sit down and listen to your best friend talk for once

➩ enough for you | your world falls apart after discovering your boyfriend is cheating on you

➩ snowball fight | ANON REQUEST | in a double pov, both you and spencer realize that a simple snowball fight in the snow has brought you closer than ever before

➩ not going anywhere | ANON REQUEST | after one date together, your appendicitis cause you and spence to grow closer together

aaron hotchner ✰

➩ y/n save me! | you find comfort in aaron’s arms after a mentally rocking case

➩ bullet in your head | warning: harassment | aaron rushes to save you after you’re cornered in a bar

➩ sick day | after you and jack fall sick, aaron takes a sick day to take care of you

➩ “you’re under arrest” | aaron is hauled off in cuffs, worrying you and exposing a bigger scheme

➩ school day | ANON REQUEST | after your school receives a bomb threat, your uncle picks you up to keep you safe from any harm

➩ family | you end up giving birth in the middle of a movie, and jack and aaron couldn’t be more supportive and excited <3

➩ big happy family | ANON REQUEST | you and aaron spend a day at the park with your loud and boisterous kids

➩ pillow fight | after a rough case that hit home, jack knows exactly how to cheer you up

➩ in his arms | bella hotchner is born, and the new baby is surrounded with a lot of love

➩ little things | REQUEST | on the plane ride back home, aaron tells you some of the little things he’s noticed about you

derek morgan ✰

➩ “i’m ok. i’m ok.” | warning: some swearing | you realize the only way to apprehend the unsub is by going in unarmed, worrying your boyfriend

david rossi ✰

➩ let her go | ANON REQUEST | dave runs into his first love when working on a case, and he realizes it’s time to let her go

criminal minds series✰

➩ agent y/l/n (1) | you comfort aaron and jack after haley dies

➩ agent y/l/n (2) | after tracking down a mentally unstable unsub, you face the young boy head on

➩ agent y/l/n (3) | you try to confess your feelings to your best friend, but it goes horribly wrong

macriley ✰

➩ riles | riley finds herself tangled in the codex mess with mac after her loyalty to mac outweighs her loyalty to phoenix

➩ take on me | in the middle of the end of the world, riley’s dancing makes both mac and riley aware of their true feelings towards each other

➩ revenge | after riley gets killed by phoenix agents, mac devotes himself to end them

➩ package deal | heavily based on 4x13, riley thinks she almost lost mac twice in the same day, leading to confessions in a heated setting (literally)

➩ dancing in the rain | desi dumping mac leads to a heated confession in the rain

➩ shower | riley's still at mac's when she realizes her shower head stops working, after a nice shower in the guest bathroom she runs into a certain someone, putting them both in a very awkward position

macdesi ✰

➩ hold my hand | the saddest mutual macdesi breakup ever just pls pls read it ok 🥺

[saintsurvivors]

Hi! I love your writing!! For the Whump Drabbles, could you do #56?

No pressure, have a fabulous day!!

@whumpflumpthump​ I just realized when I sent that last ask, I didn't give you a character😅 Sorry about that, I would love it if you did Mac, thanks, and sorry again

No. 56 Begging

Ahhhh! no problem fam, honestly, thank you so much for sending this in and sorry for your wait!! <3

warnings: broken bones, shitty self esteem, referenced torture but non graphic, jack’s potty mouth and atrocious southern accent.

Mac’s broken bones before. He’s not exceedingly clumsy, but whilst cuts and bruises are a warriors lost, broken bones and concussions seem to be a spies lot, especially ones that deal with explosions and under the table incidents that DXS do. Never mind the fact that he’d broken several fingers and ribs whilst back downrange, had barely been able to stoop when things had gone wrong so spectacular and Al had been less ...well, had been less Al and more parts of Al.

But human minds aren’t designed to remember pain, not really, even ones that are eidectic memory. The neurons remember it, but you forget what caused it, what made your heart stammer, what made your lungs seize, what made you want to jackknife up from your bed in the middle of the night, face wet with tears and blood beneath your nails because you’ve scratched your throat raw. You only remember it when it’s happening again, when you’ve felt that loss, that break.

Mac’s good at compartmentalization. Too well, often times. Jack doesn’t quite understand, not really though he tries, just how afraid Mac is, how afraid he is that if he even begins to open those tiny little boxes, meticulously labelled and stored away in the shelf of his mind, that he might not ever get them back closed. Everything he doesn’t, can’t deal with, handle. Everything he wishes would be wiped clear like the last equation of the white board by the eraser. But it isn’t that easy.

Maybe that’s why he can’t help it, why he leans so easily upon Jack, despite Jack no doubt hurting just as much as he does. Broken bones and concussions are a spies lot, but Mac thinks that kidnappings and hurt are a MacGyver and Dalton special, and wishes that it wasn’t. Wonder sometimes, in the back of his mind just how much Jack regrets meeting him. Wonders if Jack wishes he’d walked away at the end of his original tour and had left a stubborn bomb nerd in the sand of Afghanistan. Wonders how long he’d have lived; it’s a question he likes to ask himself, especially now, after missions, or when he and Jack are traipsing back to exfil after things have gone to shit.

Thinks he knows the answers, but always swallows the question and the answer, swallows the pennies he can taste too, doesn’t want to turn around and accidentally spit it out on Jack. Jack, whose already bloodied, bruised and aching. He’s got probable fractured ribs, but he can’t rest because he has to help haul Mac’s stupid, incapable ass out of the fire. He can’t keep doing this, not to his partner, not to Jack.

His left leg buckles, fire lancing up his shin to his thigh, spreading through his hip. his ankle twists further, and he only just manages to avoid bringing Jack down with him by twisting and ducking, knows that Jack’s ribs can’t take the strain and Jack’s reflexes would have him letting go. The ground is hard and cold, he can already feel the bruises forming over bruises, wonders if he’ll have the entirety of their kidnapping marked out on his skin like the world’s most fucked up map. Wonders if he’ll be able to read all the pit stops and roads, he’s where they first captured us, here’s where they fractured Jack’s ribs up after a failed escape attempt, here’s where they almost waterboarded me, here’s where they shattered my shin with a hammer because I called someone an asshole and Jack punched their lights out-

A frantic hand tucks beneath his armpit, tries to get him up, clamps down on his instinctive cries, blinks reflexively in place of the full body flinch he wants to give.

“C’mon man, we gotta hustle, I think they’re right behind,” Jack crouches as best he can, tries to get his shoulder jammed underneath Mac’s, tries to haul him up through sheer force of strength. A wheezing grunt escapes, pained. God, Mac is so selfish. “Get up, hoss, don’t do this to me, now.”

“You gotta go, Jack,” He says, looks Jack in the face, sees the wide, pain lined eyes, the grit of his teeth. He’s in so much pain, Jack is, exhausted to his very bones, beaten and bloodied. He doesn’t deserve this. “You, you need to leave.”

Jack pauses for a single moment, his arm around Mac’s waist tightens, leaves Mac breathless, dizzy, with breathlessness and pain. Jack loosens immediately, but that rare look of anger doesn’t. Seems to only grow deeper.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Jack far enough growls it, anger and pain, his eyes flash, he looks furious. Furious enough to hurt, to break, to punch. He does neither, only look at Mac like Mac’s said something so stupid, so out of far left field that it doesn’t even compute, as if Jack hasn’t had the same thoughts.

“Just go, Jack!” Mac hisses, insists, tries to shove himself backwards out of Jack’s grip, manages to break it, only to immediately miss it. He’s so fucking selfish. “Look, I’m just weighin’ you down, at this point, baggage, dead fuckin’ weight, you know this, man! You gotta go!”

“Now, I know that’s them blows to the heads talkin’, because I’m pretty sure I didn’t just hear my partner say to leave him the fuck behind!” It’s angry, angry and harsh and pained. An edge to it that has Mac’s back straightening, a shiver roiling down his spine, something pooling in his gut that he hasn’t paid attention to for the longest of times, because like Al used to say, it isn’t the bomb that’s going to kill you, it’s the emotions.

“Jack, please,” He tries to plead, can hear the shouts getting closer, the bark of angry shouting, he can’t let Jack be taken, not again, not when it was Mac that got them into this. “Please, just, go, already! They won’t be able to keep up with you. I can distract them-”

“Boy, are you stupid?” Jack hisses, and that seems to be the last straw. He grits his teeth, face turning red, hand shaking from where he’s tucked it up around Mac’s waist, hauling him up. Mac barely gets his feet beneath him, before Jack is fairly enough marching him forward, eyebrows knitted together, eyes flashing.

“Jack.” Mac hisses, pleads, begs. He’s got no chance but to go forward, pain sunfire hot, chemistry fire burning. He’s sick to his stomach, swallows down the bile. Every foot forward is agony, gut punch deep.

“No, Mac.” Jack grits out. He’s sweating, red faced. His ribs seem to creak with every movement, but he’s got Mac locked too tightly against him for Mac to do anything. They step wrong and Mac lets out a thin yelp. Jack doesn’t even flinch, only grabs the arm he forced Mac to throw around his shoulder further over, presses the swell of his thumb harder over the wrist pulse point. “No, Mac, I ain’t leavin’ you. You know why? Because you’re a fuckin’ stubborn ass of a kid who I still want to punch sometimes and you’ve got the shittiest set of emotions I’ve ever seen and I mean that, I’ve dealt with Deacon and that guy is a hot mess, but fuckin’ Christ, Mac, telling me to leave you behind?”

Something seems to have rattled loose inside of him, something hurt and vicious. Mac falls silent, keeps his hurt noises locked behind his teeth.

“We’re both gettin’ outta here, hoss, I don’t care what that stupid brain a’ yours is saying, and I swear to High Heaven that if you ever ask me to leave you behind, I will knock you on your skinny ass and drag you there, do you get me?  ‘Baggage, dead weight’-” Jack scoffs, literally hauls Mac up over a mound of rocks; his anger seems to be the only thing keeping him going. “Biggest crock a’ shit I’ve ever heard, I’ll tell you what Mackie, if i ever meet that pops a’ yours I’m gonna be beltin’ him so hard I swear-”

“Jack,” Mac says, soft, gentle. Something swells up inside of him, warm, cosy, like he’s just slipped into a hot bath. Even the fiery hot pain of his broken leg seems to have been soothed. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, he says,” Jack’s words sound angry, but his tone is soft. His fingers tap something out in morse code against the shiver of Mac’s ribs. something that spells i love you. “Just never ask me to leave you behind kiddo, I can’t. You go kaboom, I go kaboom, got me?”

“You go kaboom, I go kaboom.” Mac echos softly, wondrously, hopefully.

[365days365movies]

January 30, 2021: Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior

So, now that I’ve gotten through the first of these movies, it’s probably time to talk about the director of all four films, George Miller.

Miller’s an Australian director and medical doctor. Yeah, dude went to medical school, and in his last year there, started getting into filmmaking! Nice. He immediately came off as a budding director, and made his official directorial debut with his first film...Mad Max. Yeah. Very interesting guy. Today’s entry is his second film, and he’s since made films including Twilight Zone: The Movie, The Witches of Eastwick, Lorenzo’s Oil, Babe (yes, the pig one), Babe: Pig in the City (yes, the OTHER pig one), Happy Feet (not the pig one) and its sequel, Happy Feet Two. So, a pretty good filmography!

But throughout it all, Miller’s flagship passion was the Mad Max franchise, continuing with this movie, and eventually ending with Fury Road. And from what I’ve heard about these remaining two films, I’m in for a ride. Pun half-heartedly intended. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

An elderly narrator brings us in, telling the tale of the Road Warrior, Mad Max Rockatansky (Mel Gibson). He speaks of the downfall of modern society, punctuated by increased savagery, and the takeover of gangs on the world’s highways. People are ruined and forgotten, and they lose themselves. And these people include Max, who’s wandered out into the wilderness since losing his family. Yeah, Jess from the last movie? Dead. Guess she wasn’t doing so great after all.

Max and his dog are on the roads of Australia, where things have definitely changed. Ho longer around any vestige of civilization, the Road Warrior’s driving the Interceptor, being chased by punks on motorcycles, led by Wez (Vernon Wells), a cray, screaming dude with a bike and a mohawk..

After the chase, Max happens upon a recently-wrecked truck leaking gasoline, a much treasured resource in this post-apocalyptic landscape. Wez leaves, having been defeated, and Max gathers the fuel and goes his way. He drives through the desert until finding a mini-helicopter (a gyrocopter, it’s called), abandoned on the ground. 

After taking care of a carpet python (Morelia spilota; don’t know the subspecies), he finds himself ambushed by the Gyro Captain (Bruce Spence), who holds him up for his fuel. However, using his dog, Max gets the upper hand. Frightened, Gyro tells him of a huge supply of fuel somewhere in the desert. He agrees to show him in exchange for his life. Max agrees, and does this.

Yeah, he tied a string to the trigger of a gun, and tied the other end to Dog’s bone. Fuck yes.

Gyro’s true to his word, and he takes him to an oil refinery in the middle of the desert. It’s being used and guarded by a gang of some kind. Max sets up camp, tying Gyro to a dead tree and spying on the gang. That night, many gang members leave the refinery, and return the next day. I should mention, at this point, that we start to see some of the crazy vehicles I love so much in Fury Road. Which, yeah, HERE for that!

Anyway, the bikers, including good old Wez, go after a guy in a tricked-out buggy, incapacitating him and...taking...his wife. Yeah, these movies are really leaning on that to vilify their bad guys, huh? First it was Toecutter’s gang and the young couple, and now it’s these random people. Not the best gimmick in the world, but...OK?

Well, Max goes down to take their gasoline, and finds that the man has lived. Max brings him back to a small settlement, where they take him in. Meanwhile, a child with a boomerang, called Feral Kid (Emil Minty), watches. Cool.

Max is taken into the settlement, where oil is being refined as well. The settlers definitely don’t accept Max, and are ready to take his car and oust him into the wilderness without fuel. And then, the bikers return. And there are a LOT of them.

These are the Marauders, and they’ve taken some of the settlers captive. They’d gone out, only to be taken captive by Wez and the others. But Wez isn’t their leader. No...no, that would be the Warrior of the Wasteland! The Ayatollah of rock-and-roll-ah! THIS...is Lord Humungus (Kjell Nilsson)!

...Am I in love with this movie? Holy shit, I might be I mean, LOOK at that dude! With his voice and his scraggly-ass hair and Jason mask, he notes that the settlers sent out sentries to find a truck, with which to carry their gasoline and take it out of the desert. And as this is taking place, Feral Kid pops up, throws his steel boomerang, and kills Wez’ right hand man. WHAT

YES. MORE PLEASE. Feral Kid’s boomerang is thrown at him, misses, comes back and severs the fingers of the hand of Humungus’ mouth of Sauron dude, Toadie (Max Phipps). Humungus tries to calm the throngs, Wez included, and ends up putting Wez in a Sleeper. He tells the settlers to “just walk away, and [he] will spare [their] lives. Just walk away.”

...Yeah, I love Humungus. And his inevitable death saddens me more than I can properly say. Anyway, the settlers start debating whether or not they should walk away, and Max uses a little music-maker that he found to befriend the Feral Kid. The leader of the settlers, Pappagallo (Mike Preston) tries to convince them to flee with their fuel to a safe place. They continue to argue, until Max interjects with an offer.

Max can get them the vehicle to carry the tanker of gas that they have, but demands as much gas as he can carry, and the return of his vehicle. They agree to his terms, and Max heads off into the night to get the truck from earlier, with gas canisters and Dog in tow. With a little help from Feral Kid, he escapes the notice of the Marauders waiting nearby.

He catches up to Gyro, who’s managed to break free of the tree (well, mostly), and is quickly caught by Max in order to carry the gas canisters for the truck. They get back to Gyro’s gyro, where someone has died after being bitten by his...nonvenomous snake. Yeah, these films haven’t shown very high knowledge of zoology, huh?

They take to the air in the gyrocopter, and easily fly to the truck from the beginning of the film. They get it started, and Max leaves Gyro behind, although he protests to this, and follows behind in the copter. And then.he drives past Wez, who’s still enraged after losing his partner to boomerang hit.

By the way, I didn’t mention this about the gang, but they’re literally all wearing what looks to me like leather bondage gear? Like...I’m pretty certain that’s exactly what that is; it’s pretty obvious. ESPECIALLY Humungus and Wez’s partner, lemme tell you. Just a note, as this change in visual tone and style is going to carry throughout the rest of the series.

The Marauders run Max down, and Gyro saves the day with his snake, throwing it at one of the cars chasing him. Max JUST makes it into the Settlement, but a couple of the Marauders make it in as well, Wez amongst them. He kills a Settler using his favorite weapon, HIS OWN HEAD (fuck, this movie rules), and makes his was through the compound.

Max climbs the top of the wall, and uses a flamethrower on some of the men. Feral Kid throws a boomerang at Wez, who runs off with the rest of the Marauders. Gyro also arrives, landing in the settlement. Pappagallo, in the process, is shot in the leg with an arrow. Unfortunately, the damage sustained to the truck will take 12 hours to fix.

The Settlers thank Max for his help, but that doesn’t mean he’s staying there. That night, however, Humungus retaliates, and strings up their captured settlers for all to see, torturing them throughout the night. Nobody will make it out alive, by his promise. 

For the time being, Max and Gyro are still in the settlement, waiting for their chance to leave. Gyro tries to sneak away with a young woman, but she opts to stay out of loyalty to the Settlers. Also, her hair looks like a Who from Whoville. It had to be said...it had to be said. Pappagallo berated Max for just leaving, rather than helping the rest of them and driving the tanker. Max shoves aside Feral Kid, and he takes off.

However, this is NOT the best move on Max’s part, as he drives RIGHT THROUGH the Marauder camp, and Wez isn’t far behind him. Using a NOS system (EAT IT FAST AND FURIOUS FRANCHISE), they easily overtake Max and run him off the road, DESTROYING the V-8 Pursuit Special, and injuring Max something fierce. Somehow, though, he manages to escape. But one of them KILLS DOG WHAT THE FUCK MAN

Max crawls away and escapes, but is found by...Gyro! Gyro picks him up with the copter, and takes him back to the settlement. He wakes up in a medical tent, still quite hurt. Pappagallo details the plan: use the tanker as a distraction to allow the others to escape. Max, although still injured, volunteers to drive the tanker after all. He doesn’t say exactly why, but he is now stuck there without a method of egress, and he’s the best chance they have. I’m going to choose to believe that he does it for Dog. JOHN WICK STYLE BABY

The time has come. On both sides, they head for conflict. Gyro’s air support, dropping bombs on them. But he’s quickly shot down. Meanwhile, the settlers get out in vehicles of their own, taking advantage of the distraction of the tanker. And once they’re all out…

Now, all eyes are on Max and the Marauders! With the assistance of Warrior Woman (Virginia Hey), Feral Kid, and a few more settlers, Max tries to outdrive Wez and his group. And a LOT of shit happens here, so do yourself a favor and watch this video!

Rebecca and the other two settlers die, leaving only Max and Feral Kid behind. A LOT of Marauders die in the process, and then Lord Humungus catches up. As they shoot out the tires, Gyro (still flyin’, baby!) and some of the Settlers show up as backup. And...yup, another video. Yes, really.

After ALL OF THAT, Humungus ONCE AGAIN goes the way of Toecutter, and is killed by a head-on collision with a truck. Said truck careens off the road, and Mac and Feral Kid get out. It’s then that we see that the truck NEVER had fuel in it! No, instead it was a decoy! It allowed the vehicles, which actually contained the fuel, to escape to the safe North, away from the gangs.

The Narrator comes back, revealing that he’s the Feral Kid, and that their new leader was Gyro! And the Road Warrior. That was the last they ever saw of him. He lives now...only in his memories.

And THAT...was The Road Warrior, AKA Mad Max 2. WHOOOOOOOO!!! Second verse, same as the first; epilogue at the end of the weekend! LET’S GO PART 3

January 31, 2021: Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985)