#the outsiders whump

[dudegender]

some steve whump for the soul!!

decided i need to focus on actually characterizing steve correctly instead of projecting and headcanoning him all the time!! testing it all out with redoing my 5 bad memories + 1 good memories fic again :]

[hellothereimaloser]

outsiders request? Sick Ponyboy and Darry and Soda caring for him? bonus points if you make ponyboy look really feverish and on the verge of tears

Lol do i get bonus points 🤩

[whmp]

have you ever wanted to have your very own whumpee locked away in a basement to horribly mistreat? silly little things like "legal" or "moral" issues got in the way of fulfilling that desire? why not try it in a videogame instead!

i've had this project in the works for a while, but it's slowly entering the (very) early alpha stages! i would like to present an as of yet untitled "whump game". much like in those "virtual pet" style games that used to be popular a ~decade ago, you'll have to take care of your captive and check in on him every now and again. the video is just an early version of the customization screen - there's a lot more to come! some of the features i'm currently working on:

more customization options!

a system of rewards/punishments.

a diary for your whumpee.

ways to make money and buying clothes, accessories, etc.

a health and hunger system - try to keep your whumpee alive.

a story. yes, this will be more than just a tamagotchi clone with torture!!

a playable multiplatform build (probably on itch.io).

i'll be publishing more updates under the tag #whumpdev let me know if you have any wishes/suggestions/complaints or you want to be added to a taglist! :)

[whumpitisthen]

Two whumpees who are scared of each other:

Neither of them want trouble

They are both so afraid of being near the other they avoid each other constantly

They flinch away at the slightest touch like one person and their mirror image

They are strangers, they do not trust each other, they have been burned too many times in the past and they will not be burned again

They stare at each other from a distance, not daring to actually interact

They want to avoid a fight so bad that they won't even say a word

Whumper loves seeing them together because it's amusing how similar they are

Their uneasiness around the other is promptly forgotten when Whumper arrives

Whumpee can't have friends; Whumper doesn't want them to, and we all know what happens when Whumper sees Whumpee doing something they don't like

If hungry enough, they can be bribed with food to spend time in the other's vicinity

Non-human whumpees?! Two puppy boys being very nervous with pulled back ears and big sad eyes hiding behind their owner's legs

One Whumpee lives here and in theory should be more confident than the other one, seeing as they aren't the one in a strange unknown place. That confidence flees as soon as the Other Whumpee takes even a single step in their direction. They do not want to fight, they just want to keep an eye on them at all times.

They flinch back and the other one flinches back too. They cannot stop doing this

Caretaker basically has to pretend with each of them that the other doesn't exist. If they mentioned that their counterpart is in the room right across from them, Whumpee would not be able to sleep.

They sleep as far away from each other as the room they are kept in allows, backs to the wall, staying awake until they can't anymore

I think Whumper should collar them and bind them together with a short length of chain. For enrichment purposes... For me

One of them starts to finally unwind and gently tries to connect with the other. The other does Not react well. They are both scared again

One Whumpee has a lot of scars — must be a fighter -> scary

The Other Whumpee has no scars — must be a Really Good fighter -> scary

Whumpee looks just like the Other — must be just as desperate and unpredictable/their whumper must be just as bad/they must be at a similar level of strength as them, no guarantee to win if fight breaks out -> scary

One whumpee is scared because they have been tortured into perpetual fearfulness — the other has never been tortured, but sees how bad Whumpee has it, and being the newest addition to Whumper's collection has them just as terrified

Whumper forces them to interact. The forceful, scary nature of their meetings sets back their otherwise slow natural warming up to each other by miles, having the worst kind of counter effect. Seeing the other reminds them of that time Whumper made them sit and hold hands for hours with the threat of punishment if they disobeyed

They both escape. They see each other across the street. They freeze and stare, thrust back in time, stuck in their old frightened and cautious headspace. Their caretakers are perplexed.

[whump-n-comfort]

idc what the context is, characters going "shhh, shhh" and "it's going to be okay" with the softest voice imaginable to another character in the middle of a breakdown ALWAYS makes me go !!!!

[befuddled-calico-whump]

letting the guy in my basement up for some fresh air <3

(more pics under the cut)

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee had been in the same cell longer than they could remember- the same lights, the same walls, the same temperature. Being rescued changed everything, the world was vibrant and loud and warm and…the whumpee hated it, it was so loud and the whumpee just wanted to go to their room and shut everything out again.

[dynamicdiplomacy]

Surprise art for my Outsiders fic, Love's a Stubborn Fool. I've had this image of Pony and Soda's bedroom burning in my brain for weeks and now friends, you get to witness it too!

A quiet moment between Darry and Pony, after an unexpected awakening in the middle of the night.

“You can’t make promises like that.” He says matter-of-factly like it’s not the cruelest thing Darry’s ever heard from his lips. His baby brother, who used to go through the world making pinky promises with reckless abandon and a surefire grin, has had so many promises torn away from him that he doesn’t believe in them anymore.

If you haven’t read the fic yet, you can find it here:

Do not repost, adapt, or modify any of my art or writing.

[aceofwhump]

Outlander 7x12 "Carnal Knowledge"

Jamie pretending to kidnap Lord John Grey, realizing the man is freezing without a coat, and giving him his own

[fuupan]

i had this in mind a few days ago while running on 2 hrs of sleep

decided to finally draw it lol

i have some more ideas in mind of them that i will hopefully get to get around drawing

[make-me-imagine]

Headcanons: Taking care of each other when you are hurt (Darry Curtis)

Headcanons: You taking care of him when he is hurt + Him taking care of you.

Pairing: Darrel "Darry" Curtis x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, fighting. General whump stuff.

Requested By: @spuffyfan394

You taking care of him:

Darry getting hurt is no odd thing.

Either he roughs up his hands at work, or gets in a fight with some soc's

Even if this is a regular thing, you always gt a tight feeling in your stomach.

You'll gently take his hands in yours and clean the cuts.

You do the same with any he might have on his face as well.

Darry was used to cleaning his own wounds, and taking care of himself, so he told you not to bother when you first started dating.

But you'd watch cautiously from the bathroom door, your eyes sad as you watched him.

Eventually, after you asked if you could help so many times, he caved.

Darry felt an overwhelming amount of love for you, when you quickly began to help him.

You were gentle yet thorough, and you often asked if you were hurting him.

The love you put into helping him made him all warm inside.

Now, when he get's hurt in any way, he lets you help.

Not only because he loves the care you show for him. But because he knows it helps your anxieties to help him.

You got into the habit of listening to how he got hurt, and chastising him if it was something stupid, or a fight.

He learned early on to never lie to you. You could always tell.

When it was an accident at work, or an accident in general, you listen carefully, and furrow your brow in thought.

Darry can't help but smile, no matter how you react to how or why he got hurt.

It just shows how much you love him and how much you hate him being hurt.

So, even if he loves when you take care of him. He does try his best to avoid getting hurt, so he can avoid your sad eyes when he does.

Him taking care of you:

Darry is used to being hurt, but he is NOT used to you being hurt.

Whether it's a paper cut, or an actual injury he treats you the same.

Like a fragile doll he loves with all his heart.

Even if you are used to injuries, tough, or aren't that fussed about it, it doesn't mater. He is.

Even if he goes a bit overboard, he tries his best to care for you.

You make fun of him, or joke around about him not caring this much when he get's hurt.

But it's not the same. You are more important to him than his own health.

Darry is very loving when he is taking care of you.

Bandaging gently, applying antibiotic or medicine carefully. Placing gentle kisses where you are hurt.

Massages if you are sore or in pain. He offers to give you baths or wash your hair/body.

All the things you do for him when he is hurt, he is prepared to do in return.

And if for some reason you do not let him?

Pouty Darry.

He'll sulk in the doorway, often like you'd do to him at the beginning.

You'll joke that it's payback and he'll refrain from laughing, and put on a disappointed face, acting as though he is hurt (though it's not entirely an act)

He'll take a day off work to help you if your injury is bad. Even if you tell him not too.

If he can't be there, he asks the boys to help you out when and where they can.

So when you are hurt prepared to never be left alone for more than a few minutes. You will have someone checking up on you constantly.

xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry, @rexit-mo

Outsiders+Darry Taglist: @spuffyfan394, @locke-writes, @linkxneptune, @creativitybeware, @sardonic-the-writer, @oliviah-25

[abhainnwhump]

Pet Whumpee has been so good for their dear Whumper, that they get a warm blanket and can sleep on the couch, as long as their head is laying on Whumper and they don't refuse any touch.

[whumblr]

Dead of night

Crossed out - Continued from ch.10 - Prologue

-

With a heavy-handed sigh, Lucas slid into an open seat at the long breakfast table among his ‘work’ buddies and deposited his tray with a disgusted glance.

“Beatings continue until the morale improves,” he muttered and dragged a spoon through the slob they called porridge, “but the food here continually destroys any bit of morale you build up…”

The man next to him, Trey, guffawed softly into his sludge. When he made eye contact he quickly glanced away again, but with a soft smile.

“You’re finally starting to get it, newbie.”

“Finally being the key word here,” the man across from them spoke up. When Lucas looked at him in question he didn’t look up, just kept his head down and continued: “Nero says you’re a fast learner. I say you’re a fucking dumbass.”

“Hey, I watch and learn,” Lucas countered a little offended, recalling Marcus’ words.

“Sure, that’s why you got that black eye.”

“And you were limping back to your cell last night.”

“Learn faster.”

“He’s gonna learn sooner or later that everyone here calls him ‘that new dumb fuck’.

Lucas huffed, but with a smile. It’s not like he could counter that. His intelligence wasn’t really the problem here; more the fact that his stubbornness just kept overriding every logical decision he had to make here. And being stuck between a rock and a hard place didn’t really bring out his best decision making skills. Maybe he didn’t perform as well under stress as he had always thought. Or corporate stress was just a whole different beast.

He brought his fork up to his lips. Wasn’t porridge supposed to be at least somewhat liquid? They say chewing more will make you feel like you’re more full. But chewing on this… well, he hadn’t decided yet whether that was a crime or the punishment.

He swallowed the bite in one go. Pulled a face. “Do they sell snacks at the shop? I think I��m gonna need to be able to look forward to some good, overly sweetened processed food every now and then.”

“Wait ‘til lunch,” one of the guys said.

“Get your essentials first. Then snacks,” another said with some better advice.

“What are the essentials? I got my toothbrush and slippers…”

“Painkillers, in your case, seem essential.”

“They sell that here?!”

“Sure, just mild variants.”

Still, every little bit would help, Lucas thought. Would’ve been nice if he’d known about that earlier, but he wouldn’t have had money saved for it anyway. He still refused to visit the infirmary. It felt like admitting defeat, plugging up some of the cracks with aspirin.

“You got earplugs yet?” Trey asked.

“I don’t have a bunkmate so I don’t need it.”

The conversation halted and all the men glanced up at him, then looked around at each other, uncomfortable. Trey whispered, “It’s not for the snoring…”

“What?” Lucas looked up but they all avoided his gaze. “What then?”

“Speak for yourself, Trey,” one man said with forced laughter after the silence became too tense. “You try sleeping in the same cell as Lorenzo.”

“Actually, two cells down I can still hear Lorenzo.”

“Even with earplugs in.”

“Hey.”

The man across from him tried to steer the conversation away. “You’re so lucky you don’t have a roommate, though,” he said wistfully.

“Actually, I think it’s the other way around. With the speed this guy is turning Nero into his mortal enemy, I’d say we all are lucky not to have him as a roomie.”

Lucas, getting more and more confused with the breakneck speed they all danced around several subjects, piped up. “Why’s that?”

The conversation instantly gloomed again.

“You saw what happened to Graff,” Trey said softly, patiently.

“Yeah?”

“Nero employs something we call the buddy system. When you break one of the rules, Nero doesn’t just punish you, but your cellmate as well. It works well.”

After witnessing the unfair punishment of Graff, Lucas had suspected something like that, but to hear it said out loud… that just hit different. “I bet,” he said, a bitter undertone in his voice.

Right on cue, Nero marched into the cafeteria and Lucas found he couldn’t keep the bitterness in.

“Found another evildoer to punish,” he said a tad too loud as Nero stomped by, and he instantly regretted it.

Nero stopped dead in his tracks. Very slowly he turned towards him, straightening up as if daring him to repeat that and within a five yard radius, the conversations around him stilled. Nero shot him a glance that turned the gooey breakfast in his stomach to solid lead. “Why don’t we discuss this in my office tonight, Varga?” he said, no louder than necessary.

Fuck him and his big waffle… Nero kept staring at him, holding a steely eye contact until Lucas muttered a defeated “Yes, sir” and stared into his bowl. Then Nero stoically marched on.

The man across from him raised his eyebrows in a way that said both ‘yikes’ and ‘yeahh’ and he mouthed an exaggerated “Learn faster,” as he picked up his tray and stood.

That night, after fervently ‘discussing’ his outburst in the cafeteria, Nero spoke to the figure outstretched on the floor. “Now I was quite sure you were in the company of Georgiou at your first breakfast. Didn't he teach you anything?”

Lucas groaned, not recognising the name with Nero’s stupid tendency to call everyone by their last name. “Marcus?” He pushed himself onto his elbows and glared at Nero who barely nodded. “Yeah, he told me to keep my head down.”

“Shame you didn't listen to him.”

Normally, he’d accept the hidden implications behind those words and assumed the threat was for him. But after what he heard this morning, about Nero’s buddy system, a panic rose in him and his head shot up, eyes searching Nero’s to find out what he meant by that. “You’re not going after him for this? Right?”

“I won’t, Nero said, short. “Unlike you, Georgiou is a model prisoner. Just... join him for lunch a little more often. Maybe it will rub off on you.”

And Lucas knew they both severely doubted that.

Luckily, their ‘discussion’ that night was a short one and for once Lucas was allowed the dignity to walk back to his cell instead of limping or hurriedly wobbling across the halls to make curfew.

Relief still shot through his body when he could finally lie down on his cot, and he folded his hands behind his head, processing everything he heard today. He glanced at the other empty bed in the cell, indeed glad he didn’t have a bunkmate, but now for other reasons than just his privacy. If he had a bunkmate… well, he would’ve had a little more incentive to have kept his mouth shut this morning and at other times. Getting responsibility beaten into you for your own mistakes – rebellion – was one thing. Watching someone else get roughed up for your mistakes… that was a hard one. He could understand most in here kept to their own business.

The familiar evening ritual echoed through the cell block; buzzer, groaning iron, guards stepping past to check the cells, a tense silence for a few minutes that was broken by heavy footsteps and a single cell door opening. The warden was a busy man, Lucas thought bitterly. Apparently, keeping to your own business wasn’t as easy as it seemed. His cell wasn’t close enough to hear pleading, maybe there was just resigned silence, and the footsteps retreated.

A door slammed slut and Lucas turned over, able to sleep now that the ritual was over.

Only it wasn’t.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, a scream pierced the silence.

Lucas shot right up in bed.

Though muffled and distant, and with him on the brink of sleep, he was certain he hadn’t imagined that and he lay very still, listening intently. He heard it again.

All hairs stood right on end, panic and a sense of immense wrongness seared through him. These weren’t the grunts and occasional scream that went with a beating. This was something else. Something very wrong.

It was desperate. Broken screams forced out, interrupted by something he couldn’t hear. Sobs. Crying, probably. Vowels of pain, interrupted by shorter vowels that indicated a pleading, cut off again by pain. Settling in a sickening rhythm, more broken with each repetition. He didn’t dare think about what in the world was happening there, not wanting to analyse these horrors. All he wanted was to shut it out.

Even the silence that followed was repulsive and did not comfort him in the slightest that it was over.

-

So as soon as he had scrambled enough petty cash through more hard labour, he immediately went to the prison shop.

“I’m guessing we don’t need to explain anymore?”

Trey stood behind him in line. He flashed a wry smile and nodded at the earbuds Lucas had bought.

Lucas stood aside and merely shook his head. The earbuds plus the dark bags under his eyes showed exactly what had kept him up these last couple of nights. Even when the nights following the incident had been quiet. He waited for Trey to finish his turn and watched in envy as he bought a Twix.

“You’ll want to be careful, though,” Trey warned, slipping the candy bar into his sleeve. “Not wanting to hear is good. But you also won’t hear him approach. He doesn’t care if he wakes people up, so the earbuds do help but… Well, let’s just say that it’s also not good for your blood pressure if you wake up with him already standing next to you.”

Good god, could you imagine… Literally waking up into a nightmare.

“I’ll be careful.”

-

Continued here

Tag list: @gala1981 @chaotic-orphan @lolrpop @andithewhumper @tippytappytyping

@suspicious-whumping-egg @cherrychupachup @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @withdrawingramen

@light-me-on-pyre @treasureguardingdragon @notactuallyluska @fortunately-cool-penguin

[paul-ster]

Hated by Life Itself 🧸

Aka a fic I was SUPPOSED to finish and post after The Calm Before the Storm 😭 Plans changed yall. But I still wanted to put out the first chapter here at least so that I can be reminded that this fic exists :3

This fic mentions self harm and covers sensitive subjects. It gets graphic in this small excerpt, so if you are weary about those kinds of subjects, please scroll. I don’t want anyone to get hurt by anything I write :(

Ponyboy was only five when he first saw his dad doing it. He had needed to use the bathroom, and being five, he didn’t have the best patience skills. So, instead of knocking and waiting, he threw open the door. Mr.Curtis was on the toilet seat, except, he wasn’t using the bathroom.

He came face to face with Mr.Curtis, who seemed to have been crying. Eyes wide, Mr.Curtis grabbed Ponyboy's arm and shoved him in. He slammed the door shut, looking at Ponyboy as if Ponyboy was a threat to him. Ponyboy's eyes were also wide and his breathing stopped. On the toilet seat, Mr.Curtis had a razor to his thigh as blood dripped from a straight line. The blood beaded before gently falling to the side, almost sickening Ponyboy.

Ponyboy tried to avert his eyes from the grotesque scene in front of him. The sight of Mr.Curtis’s blood falling to the floor seemed to embed itself in his head. But, he couldn’t deny his need to use the bathroom any longer. “Daddy… potty,” Ponyboy said, kicking his legs a bit. Mr.Curtis still looked shell-shocked, but nodded, picking himself up and letting Ponyboy use the bathroom.

“Now you don’t tell anyone ‘bout this, okay little colt?” Mr.Curtis said as he ruffled Ponyboy's hair. The tears had seemed to magically disappear on Mr.Curtis’s face, but the blood on the floor hadn't disappeared. Ponyboy nodded, more so happy that he was able to use the restroom. Still, even when he had finished, he looked at his dad.

“Why do you do that?” His voice was barely audible and squeaky. Mr.Curtis felt a pang of regret as he tried to explain. Knowing that if he kept it a secret from Ponyboy, then Pony would tell his mom about it. And Mr.Curtis had already lied to her and told her that he quit…

“Sometimes daddy gets real stressed,” Mr.Curtis explained. “It’s something that only adults do, okay?” Ponyboy nodded, starting to fear the day that he got older and real stressed. Mr.Curtis drilled it into his head to never tell anyone about it. And Ponyboy knew what would happen if he did tell anyone… Still, he promised to Mr.Curtis that he would never do anything like that, and was sent on his way.

Ponyboy would’ve never said it was a main memory of his childhood. He would prefer to say that the main thing he remembered was spending time with the gang and trying to be older than what he was. Still, the memory hung in the back of his mind, and he still remembered the other times he had caught his dad.

It didn't help when Ponyboy thought to act older. He would catch himself thinking about doing the same thing Mr.Curtis would do when he was stressed. After all, only adults did it- right? But every time he thought that he would remember the blood and having to help his dad. Not to mention the constant secretary that he had to keep up. Something that he was only barely able to hide from the gang and even his own mother.

He couldn’t forget the amount of times he saw his dad run out of the bathroom, without even flushing the toilet. Ponyboy knew that every time he had done that, it was because he was real stressed. But, he also knew that what Mr.Curtis was doing wasn’t okay for him.

It carried on for what felt like forever, up until Ponyboy was 12 when something else had happened. Ponyboy tried to sit on the couch to forget what he had seen. This time his dad messed up badly and had to use an unusual amount of gauze. The sight had sickened Ponyboy to the core, just about every time he had tried to forget and close his eyes, the images would pop up. Knowing that he couldn’t do anything about it, he just looked at the ceiling.

Sodapop and Steve came into the house, calling a greeting as the door slammed behind them. Ponyboy's mind was still in a daze, confused as to why his dad would do that. Mrs.Curtis followed in behind Steve, carrying many bags. She dropped them off before going over to Ponyboy.

“Where’s your father?” Mrs.Curtis asked. Ponyboy swallowed thickly, unsure if he should even answer. Yet, he found his mouth speaking before he could think. “In the bathroom.”

Mrs.Curtis nodded, her face making a weird expression as she walked to the bathroom. A twisting feeling came to Ponyboy, causing him to start to feel anxious. His dad had drilled it into him that he couldn’t tell anyone, not even his mom, about what he had saw. Ponyboy listened as his mom knocked on the bathroom door, and how his dad answered.

“Hey Pony,” Sodapop greeted as he walked to the couch. Ponyboy nodded a reply, his ears straining to hear the rest of his parents’ conversation. Yet, Sodapop was adamant about talking to Ponyboy. “Do anything fun?” Soda asked. Ponyboy shrugged, “No.”

Before Sodapop could ask anything else, Steve called out. “Soda, we goin’ to the races or what?” Soda looked at Ponyboy worriedly. “Go Soda,” Ponyboy encouraged, still trying to listen to his parents. All he could make out was that his mom was now angry. A sick feeling came to Ponyboy’s throat as he listened.

Sodapop walked out with Steve, not before ruffling Ponyboy's hair. As he left, he watched as Ponyboy continued to stare at the ceiling, as if listening for something.

“Ya good Soda?” Steve asked as they started walking to Bucks. Sodapop looked back at his house, watching as Darry drove by in their father's truck. “Didya think that there's somethin’ botherin’ Pony?” Sodapop asked. Before he could get an answer, Darry slowed down near the duo, rolling down a window.

“Need a ride?” Darry asked. Steve nodded for both Sodapop and himself. They got into the truck, with Sodapop beating his own record for the longest he’d been silent. Steve and Darry shared worried looks as Darry drove. “Is there somethin’ wrong little buddy?” Darry asked, finally breaking Sodapop out of his trance.

“There was somethin’ botherin’ Pony when I and Steve went home…” Sodapop finally admitted. Darry's eyebrows furrowed, “Did he tell ya what it was?” Sodapop shook his head, glancing over to Steve. Steve shrugged.

“He was quiet but more quiet than usual,” Sodapop added. He looked out to the road, “It ain't like him to be that quiet.” Darry set a firm hand on Sodapops shoulders, trying to reassure him. “Maybe his head just got lost in a good book?”

Sodapop nodded, knowing that it wasn't the reason. But, he knew Steve wasn't going to like it if the reason he couldn't enjoy watching the races all because of his worry for Ponyboy. Pushing the fear aside, Sodapop plastered on a smile, pretending to think that Ponyboy was okay. After all- what did he have to be so worried about?

~

Ponyboy continued to sit on the couch until his mom and dad rushed past him. He stood up expectantly as his mom ushered his dad out of the house. Mr.Curtis seemed to be losing his balance, something that Ponyboy had never seen before.

He looked up to Mr.Curtis in an idolistic way. Seeing him weak sent an unknown pang of fear through Ponyboy. Mrs.Curtis tried to give him a reassuring smile but it fell short. Ponyboy watched as they both left the house leaving in their other car. The silence afterward felt like needles prickling under Ponyboy's skin as he sat back down on the couch.

For a moment he tried to understand what he saw. Did his mom know now? Was Mr.Curtis angry with the fact that she knew now? Or was he okay with it, thinking that maybe it was what was best? The thoughts swirled in Ponyboy's head as he shakily made his way to the kitchen. Before he could fully make it, he tripped on the bags.

With a “plan,” Ponyboy started to distract himself. He didn't want to think about his dad or anything in general. The earlier sight had still stuck with Ponyboy, embedding itself in his head to the point that he couldn't think of anything else. In easier terms, he was stressed.

And what do self-proclaimed adults do when stressed?

Ponyboy found himself in the same position his dad was in. The razor was pressed to his skin, something that he’d never thought he’d do. He felt his breath start to fasten as the razor slowly dragged-

“Is anyone home?” A voice yelled out through the house. Ponyboy froze, flinching at the pain and the sound of the voice. He heard as the voice kept calling out, but kept getting closer to the bathroom. A simple knock on the door was all he needed to quickly hide the evidence and open the bathroom door.

Two-Bit just looked at Ponyboy shocked when he came out. “Well I’ll be, I ain't never think ya to hide in the bathroom when your buddy comes!” Two-Bit exclaimed as he followed Ponyboy. Ponyboy made his way to the living room again, almost ashamed of what he did. The stinging pain in part of his thigh burned along his jeans as he walked.

He almost wanted to call himself weak for not being able to handle the small bout of pain. A part of him was surprised that his dad was able to do it easily without even flinching when his mom touched his thigh. But, he knew that he had to ignore it for now, at least until Two-Bit left. Yet, as time went on, it seemed as if Two-Bit was never going to leave.

“Kid?” Two-Bit's voice finally cut through Ponyboy's thoughts. He looked up, watching as Two-Bit walked up to him. “Wheres your mom and dad?” Two-Bit finally asked. Time felt as if it slowed down right then. All Ponyboy could think about was the sight he saw before with Mr.Curtis and the one that included Mrs.Curtis ushering Mr.Curtis out of the house. All because Ponyboy didn't tell anyone.

Ponyboy bit his lip, he didn't want to tell Two-Bit, mostly because of his loyalty to his dad. So, he found himself shrugging and getting up to make dinner. Two-Bit watched him carefully, almost as if Ponyboy was going to simply pass out on the floor. Ponyboy couldn't deny that he did feel like that. But, there was something else weighing on him to make him feel like that…

~

The familiar cheer of the crowd excited Sodapop. He loved every moment of it, the sounds, the conversations, and even the random fights that would happen. Darry and Steve stood nearby him, with Johnny making an appearance. Sodapop felt a pang of worry hit him as Johnny settled with the other three.

Dallas was racing, something that he was excellent at. Steve joked around, talking about how Dally probably rigged his horse on coke or something. It was enough to make the small group laugh for a moment before the gun went off. When it did, they watched in anticipation until finally, Dally's horse went through first.

Yells erupted in the crowd as people passed over lost money. The excitement should've been enough to push Sodapops mind off of his baby brother but it wasn't. He found himself starting to panic, thinking about what Ponyboy was stressed about. When the time finally came to go home, Sodapop never felt better.

“Two-Bit’s here?” Darry asked as he parked the truck. Everyone was in there, even Dally and Johnny. Sodapop felt a pang of relief go through him as he thought about Two-Bit watching over Ponyboy. However, he also noticed that his parents weren't there.

Quickly Sodapop ran into the house. He looked around and quickly saw Two-Bit and Ponyboy just having dinner. Relief washed over him as he walked up to Ponyboy. Ponyboy seemed different still, almost as if he wasn't fully there in the moment. Darry gave Sodapop a concerned look as Sodapop tried to talk to Ponyboy.

After a few futile attempts at conversation, Sodapop just decided to eat some dinner with Ponyboy. Darry looked around for a moment, catching the sight of their parents being gone. “Wheres mom and dad?” Darry asked, settling down with his own serving of food. Once again the fear seemed to build up in Ponyboy as he looked to Two-Bit for help.

Two-Bit just shrugged, “They were gone ‘fore I got ‘ere.” Darry nodded, catching a look as Ponyboy put his head lower. He refused to meet anyones eyes, something not too peculiar…

Once they were finished with dinner, they all started to mess around in the living room. Somehow Steve had gotten Ponyboy to talk, mostly to give rude retorts. Darry found himself feeling relieved as his baby brother seemed to start acting more and more like himself. Then, the front door opened.

Mr and Mrs.Curtis walked in, with Mrs.Curtis carefully holding up Mr.Curtis. Instantly Darry and Sodapop were trying to help them, careful with how they spoke. Ponyboy followed along, trying to see what had happened with his dad. Yet, Mrs.Curtis ushred them away, only asking for Ponyboy to stay.

Mr.Curtis sat on his bed as Mrs.Curtis went to make sure no one broke anything in her living room. Ponyboy shifted his weight on his feet as he looked at his dad. His dad looked tired, but also the familiar glint in his eyes stayed. It made Ponyboy feel uneasy though.

Usually, Ponyboy never got in trouble. And if he did, it was usually petty crimes. Yet, he felt as if he had just committed the worst crime. In a way- he did. He had betrayed his father's trust. Before Ponyboy could get any words out, Mr.Curtis just shook his head.

“Remember what I said Ponyboy,” Mr.Curtis said as he patted his lap. Ponyboy knew what was coming and so he put his head down and walked over. “You know what happens when you betray someone's trust?” Mr.Curtis asked, his voice booming in a way that only Ponyboy could hear. It scared Ponyboy to his very bone as he nodded…

It wasn't fun for Ponyboy but- he did learn something. Never to tell anyone what happened, or what he saw. Another thing he learned: was how to “deal” with stress, the Curtis way.

But he’d never do it.

Right?

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Ep 22-23 Commentary

Ha...I was inexplicably nervous for eps 22-23 and it looks like I was right to be (-: What a rollercoaster. Spoilers below!

I've just come out of ep 23 and uh????? holy shit????? ZYC????

Ok ok but to backtrack, let's do my comments semi-chronologically:

Ep 22:

A carry-over from ep 21 that I have to mention—heck yeah PSJ give WZY hell. She doesn't have all that many lines but she sure knows how to make them count. Also seeing PSJ and WX get screen time just the two of them makes my brain go "yay <3"

Back to ep 22, loved the fake-out sundial ayeee that was a nice Chekhov's gun that also brings the real sundial back into relevance for later. Also me eating up the PSJ and ZYC crumb of an interaction has brought to my attention how starved I am of their screen time together.

This whole ep was a great lament towards the feared inevitable. Every sad downcast look from ZYC, every complicated glance WX gives him. A wonderful, terrible crossroads for these characters. I love that for ZYC especially, it's such an incredible mess of emotion coming to a head. Bad enough that he's come to care about the demon who killed his family and ruined his life, bad enough that he's sworn a blood oath he regrets and tied himself to punishing someone he no longer finds culpable, bad enough that ZYZ's life or death depends solely on his choice and ZYZ is constantly practically begging for death when ZYC wants him to live. How much immensely worse it makes the whole situation that WX is literally ZYZ's soulmate. And obviously the whole team has only grown more and more attached to ZYZ, too. ZYC's personal turmoil aside, how heavy must that responsibility and guilt be? For the finishing blow that only he can deliver to also deeply threaten every other person he cares about? Everyone understands in the abstract what must happen and why, but just like seeing ZYZ lose control firsthand, the gulf between understanding and experiencing is so unimaginably wide. If he kills ZYZ, can there really be no resentment from his friends? From WX?

Also it seems ZYC only wears cloaks so that he can give them to other people lmao

Ah fuck, the farewell drinks. I didn't even factor in how ZYC might not survive the encounter (''': The drama truly was like hm can we possibly give ZYC a worse day than that night his whole fam died? Maybe give him a bunch of new family members and also the blade and the fate and the sole responsibility to potentially irrevocably scar said family members with? And he might die in the process too? (-: haha maybe? (((-:

Oh. Oh. Addendum. I forgot this til I saw it mentioned in another post—ZYC recounting his oath as he watched WX smile when they discussed reviving the tree...I could feel him weighing those words against his own life, against ZYZ's life, against WX's happiness. One way out of this impossible situation is indeed to doom himself. I'm in pieces.

Damn if WX isn't dedicated heart and soul, going into the sundial like that. I'm sad no one could keep her company for those 300 years but also I guess that's kind of an impossible ask (and maybe not survivable for the other non-goddess mortals? I'm admittedly very unclear on sundial time loophole logistics). It would have been nice to see someone offer though, even just to be turned down.

Ooh I like the soul needle fake-out, given this show's penchant for retroactive "actually we had a plan all along" moments. A good subversion of the narrative's own style.

Also I saved this for the end because it doesn't really fit the linearity of my comments but what the fuuuuuuuck oh my god I absolutely flipped out at this scene:

I am at once rabidly intrigued and at the same time not sure if I'll be satisfied with whatever payoff will come for this so I don't want to overindulge in theorizing and setting my own expectations too high. Maybe this is just a fevered hallucination, maybe it means nothing (I hope it means something). But damn!!! What a gorgeous man crazy scene.

In conclusion, ep 22 had some good stuff for me. Plot development and reflection and tension enough that I may have been satisfied with just that one episode. But they gave us two, so onward to ep 23 comments!

Ep 23:

I like how many solid reasons the team has to suspect ZYC being possessed. Even though I withheld judgment during my watch given how quickly the show usually confirms that kind of stuff with a possession mark, just simply casting that doubt made the whole build up that much more intense.

ZYC slowly walking down the corridor with the whole grounds lit a somber and haunting gold—*chef's kiss*

ZYC's monologue to a catatonic ZYZ is so important to me. The closest we'll get to his internal monologue about this whole situation. The kinds of things said when we think there's no conscious listener.

Okay so, having finished this episode and looking back, Li Lun's hands coming up from behind ZYC was not to denote possession (at least in this episode), potentially is a visual from ZYZ's POV, and seems related to the above screencap. I am so, so curious. Once again, I'm stopping myself from further speculation because I want to be surprised but ahhhhhhhhh

PSJ shooting at Ao Yin is so gorgeous. Her action scenes seriously never disappoint—the creativity of her fight choreos!! Also very cool that the whole team is getting to take part in the action, not just the two male leads.

Bai Jiu possession was not on my bingo card but I sure do love that we literally saw the possession take place and I still didn't connect the dots. Good shitttt. Also oh no ): ZYC was telling the truth about the soul needle, he was just tricked ):

Seriously from the Ao Yin case to getting PSJ released to reviving the Divine Wood to getting tricked by possessed!Bai Jiu to making pear soup to fighting ZYZ to fighting Li Lun—when will ZYC get a single goddamn vacation day holy shit.

Also when will WX tear up that contract so ZYZ can stop having a mild heart attack every time he wants to kiss her ): &I love that they saved the 300-year montage for this moment. While their ship doesn't give me brainrot personally, who could be unmoved by that incredible and undisclosed sacrifice? That's soulmatism.

Okay, I'd seen clips of them filming the ZYC and Li Lun fight but damn I did not expect it'd be happening right now!! Right after already taking damage from ZYZ? And my god is Li Lun brutal. The two actors did such an impressive job on this entire fight, what with Li Lun's ease and ZYC's suffering. I really appreciated the extensive hand-to-hand combat after Li Lun literally obliterated ZYC's sword. (Also though, given the origin of that sword, I kept hoping for a flashback to ZYC's brother once it broke, but alas, no dice.) Anyway, the show does not play around about ZYC whump it seems. I was very very shook by that throat punch; that shit legitimately looked like it hurt.

Honestly, I had a hard time with the extended ZYZ and Li Lun conversation at the very end because oh my god someone please heal ZYC lmao. But of course, that's the end of the episode~~

Y'all...check on your local ZYC stans because I was not okay after all that (': I need a heaping dose of comfort after all that hurt, but as always I'm cautious of hoping for much from canon itself. So yeah! Ep 23 was solid, but I would probably be in better shape if today's release just ended on ep 22 ((':

Time to go wait for the cast's Hi6 episode to drop so I can heal my battered heart ;-;

[pigeonwhumps]

Battle

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Angstpril: alt prompt 1: troubled mind

Inspired by these two prompts by @hurtmyfavsthanks and an anon ask she received. I saw the more recent one and just wrote this straight up within a couple of hours, unable to resist it.

1k

CWs: living weapon, outcast whumpee, magical whumpee, low self-esteem, betrayal kinda, mentions of battle and casualties, mentioned past discrimination

Whumpee doesn't remember much of the battle.

It went by in a haze. They remember red, people falling, screams, unsure which side they were on. They remember the glee, the euphoria, of using their magic. The high of it all.

Now they're starting to come down from that high, and they can see the fear in people's eyes. The injuries, the casualties. Vaguely, they wonder who caused them. Was it them again?

Hands cup their face, gentle, calloused. The only ones that will ever touch them anymore.

Caretaker's.

"Hey. Look at me, now. Not the camp. Me." Whumpee looks up hesitantly, into their loving, warm eyes. One day they'll change. One day... one day they'll harden. Fear, hatred. From all the people they've hurt, on all sides. One day it'll be too much. They're afraid of the day they'll see that, of what will happen then.

But it hasn't happened yet.

Caretaker wipes their cheek softly. "It's okay. Come on, rest. Lay your head down. You're done for today. Close your eyes and rest."

Whumpee crawls into Caretaker's lap. They vaguely register being carried, head being lifted until it meets Caretaker's neck. Whumpee nuzzles into it.

"Shh. You did so well. You're doing so well, Whumpee. I'm proud of you."

Whumpee doesn't want to be. They want to grow flowers. But this is what their magic likes, this is what their king likes, this is what makes Caretaker say those words of praise in just that voice, so they can't stop.

(They ignore the small voice in their head that says that they have no idea what Caretaker's reaction to flowers would be. This is exhilarating, even if they feel an ever-growing bubble of shame at the endless, ruthless violence.)

Caretaker runs a hand through their hair, combing out the knots from the day's work, using a little water to clean the worst of the blood. Whumpee has been through this so many times that they know what to expect without even a glance. He won't hurt them with those eyes. They know his expression, his feelings, and they curl their arms and legs closer around him.

He's so warm.

"S'okay buddy. I'm here."

"Hmm."

Whumpee closes their eyes. It's so... so... they don't think they can sleep yet but they find themself drifting on the exhaustion the magical high always brings.

_

The next morning is... the next morning. As it always is with a new squad, it is very different to the first one.

And as it always is, Whumpee feels a sharp stab of hurt.

The soldiers know who they are, what they are. Have done since the very beginning .They've worked with Whumpee on the preparations, the journey here, for weeks. They know them. Sat around the campfire, shared meals, joked and talked and laughed. They'd been wished good luck yesterday morning, hair ruffled, smiles and reassurances in abundance. Soldier had even fixed their horse's saddle after the straps started to break. Now...

Now, they won't come within arms length of them. Soldier ladles out breakfast to the rest, leaving an empty bowl several feet from Whumpee, not looking them in the eye as he leaves them to fetch their own. He flinches along with several others as they approach the campfire, more whose hands jerk towards their swords. As if they're going to attack. As if they're so out of control that they'd attack their own side on purpose.

They reluctantly let go of Caretaker's hand so he can fetch their breakfast and the healing potion alone. At least he looks them in the eye. At least he sits with them, and talks, and touches them. Helps convince them to take the potion, even though it's bitter and rancid and no-one will improve it for the likes of them, and they won't need it once the adrenaline and euphoria of tomorrow's battle kicks in.

The kindness is only for now. It will change, sooner or later.

Nobody helps the pair of them take down their tent, or pack their saddlebags, and the Sergeant looks about to stop Whumpee from replacing the emergency set of daggers they carry in their boots at all times. A gift from Caretaker.

It's like they have the plague. Or the Devil's Touch, as their old villagers used to say.

They're pretty much alone in the clearing now, the rest of the squad staying as far away as they can without letting Whumpee out of their sight. Just in case they explode or something.

Without a word, Whumpee settles down on the ground beside the smoldering fire, Caretaker sitting on the log behind them. It's a sharply cold morning, dew dampening their breeches, but their leather armour keeps them surprisingly warm.

Caretaker braids their hair quickly and simply, just enough to keep it out of their face. Battlefields aren't the place for complicated hairstyles. Which is a shame, because Caretaker takes pride in that skill, and Whumpee delights in being allowed to display the results.

Whumpee dries their face with the cloth Caretaker hands them wordlessly. They need to get it together. It's not like it's the end of the world or anything. They try to summon the ease by which they sometimes prepare, the eagerness instead of dread that comes with a lot of battles.

It doesn't come. Today is a day for dread, then, and there's nothing they can do about it but pray for a miracle. And a break in the hatred and fear, the violence with which everyone rejects them.

They can't help thinking, though, that the amount of damage they've done, it's no wonder people want them locked away. They are a weapon, after all.

Yes. Definitely one of the bad days.

Caretaker's their handler. They try not to think about it but it's true. He's the only one who might see it, might offer them a brief reprieve. So they summon up all their courage.

"Please..."

Caretaker finishes the braid and kisses their temple. "I'm so sorry, Whumpee. I really am. But you need to do this. We need to do this. The kingdom needs you."

Whumpee nods. They don't blame Caretaker, not really. They need to win this war. And Whumpee needs to use their magic.

But gods do they wish they could stop.