#when people put dogs in these conditions there is screaming

[sassyhazelowl]

I'm in a lot of quail groups on facebook and there's been a huge push towards "breeding for temperament" aka culling any quail that doesn't behave like a potato. Your set up is bad and the birds are nervous? Cull. Its breeding season and you have too many pushy roosters harassing the hens and they retaliate? Cull. A bird pecks at another bird (natural instinct to peck at red) because it accidentally cut itself and is bleeding? Cull. You've stuffed too many birds in a small space and there's nowhere for the bottom birds to escape the top birds? Cull. You didn't put enough hides in and one of the birds is being territorial about the limited resources? Cull. Chick is 'too aggressive' in the brooder? Cull. I do imagine that overtime you will get more docile quail, for sure. And if they're going to cram them in like sadines, it is probably better for the birds to behave like potatoes. But I just find it interesting that the entire focus of "improving the animal" is really based on making the animal not an animal. Because animals and animal behavior is inconvenient for humans.

[ronearoundblindly]

Big Pharma

Steve Rogers x doctor!Reader

Written for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza--HAPPY BDAY, SIRI!--using the scenario prompt ~quick, frantic, secret sex in an almost public place + babe's hand over your mouth to keep you quiet~ and the dialogue prompt "goddamnit, will you just f***ing let me do this for you?" with free use kink for good measure. Why not?

Summary: The extreme drug cocktail you devise to save Steve Rogers has one major side effect.

Warnings for smut 🥴, sorta dub-con because it's like sex pollen, F E E L S, Steve being the most chivalrous gentleman while railing you (do it for your country, babes 🫡), completely unintentional dirty talk from Steve but 😮‍💨 we'll allow it, Tony being Tony, and--as always-- terrible puns. (There are no mentions of any medical instruments, except an IV, which is not used.) MINORS DNI. This is a mature gift work; see my Light Masterlist for all-age fanfic that is fine for minors. WC 2k

The constant photoflash burns into your retinas obnoxiously, and you’re not even the subject of the paparazzi.

Captain America is alive—all thanks to you—though he could easily have been six-feet under by now. The mysterious infection was so bad and spread so far, the drug regimen you administered constitutes one of the Avengers’ biggest Hail Marys to date, but it’s working. That’s all that matters…to the world. Behind the scenes is a different story.

As Captain Rogers turns to the next hand he must shake, his sharp blue eyes find you, twinged with a familiar fear.

This stupid event scheduled by Stark to boost morale, to show Cap is just fine and back in fighting form, has gone on too long. It’s happening again.

You worried Rogers might not make it when suddenly Stark showed up hours earlier than the initial, planned press conference—because, of course, there’s meet-and-greets, quick interviews, and these damn handshakes. He’s only gone so long between treatments for the last week.

You nod at Cap and make your way in the small crowd back to Stark. You tell him you’ll need a room, somewhere private to put in the IV, and at least thirty minutes to administer the huge dose. Rogers’s super-metabolism makes it necessary to use approximately forty times the prescription average for antibiotics and steroids. In theory, the side effects are well worth his speedy recovery.

Well, the only side effect.

Stark looks horrendously annoyed. “Can’t you just shoot him up with it and be done?” He doesn’t need your lecture repeated though. “Fine, there’s a greenroom thing over there, but you’ve got fifteen minutes at most, you hear me?”

“Twenty-five, Mr. Stark. He’s not a water balloon.”

“Twenty or he can wheel the damn thing around with him.”

You gulp in nervousness, but the problem isn’t Stark’s attitude. Rogers isn’t going to like rushing this. He feels shame enough already.

“I’ll make it work,” you assure the stubborn playboy. If he only knew…

“Good. A team player. We value that here.”

You have no fucking idea how ironic that is, you scream internally, but you follow him to a door off a back hallway, a room that shares a wall with the space all those people are gathered, and thank Stark.

“Oh good, he’s heard the dog-whistle of treat time,” Tony quips, and you swivel to see Cap trailing behind you.

He’s already made his excuses to step away, too. It must be bad.

You’re sure to pull out your props of a saline drip and tubing from your bag while Tony can still see, but you drop the act the instant the door clicks shut.

Cap take one step forward to flip the lock, immediately unzipping the fly of his iconic leather suit.

See, the only side effect of the drugs is Rogers gets hard, often, and can’t find relief from his efforts alone. Through trial-and-error, the clear solution has been help—discretely—from the only medical professional allowed around him until his condition improved.

Of course, he fought it. Of course, you wanted to preserve his dignity. Of course, you tried to keep it as perfunctory, methodical, and uninspired as possible, but the thing is, that didn’t last.

The more distant and cold the experience, the faster he became desperate and wanting again, and now you have just twenty minutes to make sure Captain America can hold out for hours.

Steve, you remind yourself. He prefers you not use respectful address when engaging is what he deems entirely disrespectful behavior. 

You need to get him off in essentially no time at all, so you’ve decided: go big or go home.

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty.

Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this?

“Doc, no,” he breaths.

“I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you.

Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…”

‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy.

“Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

He’s already fisting himself, struggling to be the gentleman he never stopped being, which at the moment is a huge problem because both of you need to get through the day—you without losing your job and him without popping a boner on national television.

It’s your job to break him and break him right now.

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?”

There’s a flat smack on the door.

“Do whatever the lady wants and then get back out here,” Tony yells from the other side. “Put us all out of our misery,” he ends with a grumble.

That is by far the most helpful thing Stark has said in the last week, so you mouth “see” and begin undoing your blouse from the bottom, giving Steve his first peek of you. His hand speeds along his length, adam’s apple bobbing in concentration.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” you whisper. You walk to the far corner of the room, put your hands up, shirt rising over your bare ass, and face the wall. Your voice is soothing, pleading even. “Just take what you need.”

In some ways, you feel responsible for his predicament. You are the prescribing doctor, he isn’t in a relationship where a partner could assist, and he insists no one else know. He doesn’t deserve to be poked and prodded more than necessary, and you can’t give him any other meds in combination. None of it is his fault same as none of it is yours. You only intended to heal him.

Truthfully though, none of this is just about his release anymore, much as you’d like to dismiss your feelings.

You can’t deny, however, that each time the air gets a little thicker with tension, the body language a little more intimate. Steve has kept his eyes open, clutched your free hand to his chest, rolled his hips open, and thrust up into your fist. The greater the satisfaction of his climax, the longer he retains control.

“When this is over…I swear,” he grits out, getting closer word by word until his deep voice is right by your ear.

He tugs your shirt up to dip his fingers between your legs. “Been smelling you for two days. Can’t do anything until—” Steve growls, feeling how slick you’ve become in anticipation “—you’re ready for me.” 

His concern washes away when two fingers easily breech you to the knuckle and are immediately replaced by the blunt head of his cock dragging between your folds.

You didn’t expect him to give in so fast. You didn’t expect him to have known this aroused you. The idea he might want to continue, to go further, races down your spine, following the opposite path of Steve leaning into you. His forehead presses your occipital as yours presses the wall. The heat of him makes you arch in luxurious proximity.

Steve fucking forward to enter you in one smooth motion makes you forget to be quiet, but before the whole shout of ecstasy escapes, his hand covers your mouth.

“Shhh, Doc,” he breathes at the base of your neck. “Be good for me.”

That only gets you moaning into the seam of his gloves.

His hips start a staccato rhythm, a second of loud friction for each second of silent, fulfilling pressure.

Steve slips his still wet fingers under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to swirl a smooth pattern over your nipple. Instead of voicing your approval, you shove yourself back into him faster.

You notice the muffled chatting of Tony and someone else outside while your eyes roll. The slap of your skin against the Cap suit becomes the loudest thing in the room, but that’s not what Steve minds.

He pulls out and spins you around, pausing to see the cream you’ve created at the base of him drip to the carpet below.

Deep sea eyes meet yours through golden lashes.

“If I can’t hear you…” Steve hoists you up to his waist, threading one arm through the bend in your knee, spreading you wide and diving in swiftly.

Your body curls forward automatically to grasp at him and smother yourself in the leather of his shoulder pad. This pace is much faster, purposeful, utterly unravelling you. The position delivers more range of motion, all of the buildup and less of the noise, with the added benefit of his tool belt nudging your clit repeatedly.

Tony pounds on the door. “‘Bout done in there, guys? Let’s go.” How apt, the unknowing jester.

Steve pants, open-mouthed, against your temple.

You smile but can’t stop your own ruin.

A groan gets buried in your disheveled hair. “Are you…close?” His hips snap brutally. “Are you—“ he sounds wrecked “—you gonna…come on my—uungh.”

You tip over the edge, clutching him tight and fluttering for him in every way. The detonation of your orgasm burns red behind your eyelids like camera flashes, a dirty snapshot for you alone.

“Mercy,” Steve begs, gripping your ass to rut into you, desperate to join. His neck tenses as he spills inside you, pulse throbbing in time with his cock. 

He leans against you and the wall, his steady weight stilling your shaky legs. Slowly, your feet are guided to the floor and Steve steps away to wipe away any evidence of his ‘therapeutic treatment.’ His breathing settles much faster than yours, and by the time he’s tucked back in with his suit righted, you’re simply sliding down the wall to catch up.

He hurries over to the small vanity and mini fridge—usually ‘guests’ for speaking (or interrogating) wait here—to bring you supplies.

A box of tissues is set by your side.

“So…” he hands you a bottle of water “…maybe…dinner tonight?” 

You set the water down in favor of cleaning yourself, glancing up to offer a reassuring dismissal. “This morning was your last dose,” you remind him. “It should be over soon.”

Steve may not need this anymore, may never need you again, but he doesn’t miss a single beat.

“I’d like—I want to take you some place nice, but…” He chugs his whole water then quickly unclasps the glove on his left hand, rolling up his sleeve, veins jumping over a thick forearm.

“I don’t know what food you enjoy.”

Arguably, he knows a few other things that you enjoy.

There’s another impatient bang at the door.

“I—“ Your heart soars with the soft sincerity of his face, no trace of fear left behind, no hesitation. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Steve stands, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I’ll lock it behind me…and, um, thank you, Doc.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t apologized this whole week.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve flashes you a dopey smile and shakes his head. “See you out there,” he chuckles.

You can’t be seen when the door opens just enough for Steve to step out, but he makes a show of rolling the suit’s sleeve back down like he really did have an IV infusion, selling the lie like a pro. He keeps Tony talking while shutting you back into your debauched bubble.

Through the wall, you still hear “could you have gone any slower?” followed by a curt, “yes,” and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’d you do, blow a vein?”

You’re picturing an incredibly ironic look on Captain Rogers’ face.

“Just be grateful she puts up with us, Tony…” and their voices disappear down the hall.

His treatment may be finished, but Steve wants you to stick around. He wants you.

Would having dinner with that man really be so terrible? No. Not at all. Even the ‘worst’ of this situation has been a great fucking experience. You don’t want to give that up yet.

It seems you’re both addicted now.

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

[antimonyandthyme]

carcar 28 if you are still doing prompts :)

carcar pt 1; curse of obedience/can’t disobey a direct order

“So,” Oscar says, “if I were to say—”

“Don’t,” Carlos says, all urgent, eyes wider than Oscar’s ever seen them. “Oscar!”

He’ll remember this moment after. Go back to it every so often, when his brain sees fit to carve out versions of himself to dissect. Savage, impulsive. Vindictive even. Couldn’t even have picked something non-life threatening, like Drink this drip coffee, which I know you’d rather die than put on your tongue. Had to go for this.

“—run out into traffic, without looking—”

Carlos stands up so fast the chair clatters behind him. Bit of a shock. Oscar looks around, waits for the crowd to laugh along, for him to be allowed in on the prank. The café’s busy, people rippling past them to get to where they need to be. Carlos turns toward the door.

“Carlos,” Oscar says. The vacant look on Carlos’s face scrapes against Oscar’s bare skin like a grater. “What are you doing?”

Carlos gives no response, eyes trained only on the door. Dimly, Oscar wonders if this is how he looks under the helmet.

No, no. Even while racing, Carlos wouldn’t look like this. Surely, his jaw would run askew, his teeth would find his lower lip, his eyes dance bright and hungry.

“Carlos,” Oscar says again. He barely registers his pulse spiking.

Two steps are all it takes for Carlos to get up to full speed, as if he’s got a rabid dog on his heels. He’s a bullet shot out the door, a blur of red.

Oscar’s supposed to have reflexes made from lightning. Fastest in the world, isn’t he? But he stares, uncomprehending, and stares some more through the endless bay windows, as Carlos, uncaring that the crosswalk’s sign is still red, dashes onto the road. He runs, cutting through the continuous stream of metal as if his body were made of something divine.

A car swerves violently, a honk sounds. The ignition Oscar needs to snap out of his daze. Combustion, power. He propels forward, mouth already formed around syllables.

“Carlos,” he screams. “Carlos, stop! Come back!”

He must not be able to hear me. That must be the only reason Carlos keeps running, narrowly avoiding a speeding motorcycle. What did he say, when Oscar was dismissing his confession as a joke? He said—he’s being made to listen, right? To listen and obey. Oscar just has to reach him, so Carlos can listen.

Carlos is too far ahead, outstripping Oscar with an unrecognizable single-mindedness. Oscar’s yelling himself hoarse, but it’s too loud all around them, tires screeching, tearing at his ears. Chaos around them, Oscar unable to reign it in. Even in the rainiest conditions, he’d been able to find more grip than this.

The crosswalk melts onto the sidewalk, and for a blessed second, Oscar thinks it’s over, that Carlos has done all he’s needed to do, carried out the cruel task Oscar’s laid out for him like the gods before Heracles.

Then Carlos turns the corner, still running.

“Carlos!” Oscar’s face is wet, for some reason. A flickering image of Carlos meeting a car sears itself into the back of his eyelids, spills more liquid out. “Come back, please!  Please, god. Come back.”

Clarity, even in panic. If he’s braved speeds most people can’t comprehend, forces that could bend and even break a neck, then what is running blind into traffic?

He doesn’t look as he steps off the curb this time. Adjusts his focus to match Carlos’s. Speeds up in a way that is second nature. A driver swearing at him, a blinding flash from a headlight too close for comfort, but Oscar keeps running. Slowly but surely gaining on his target, overtaking within his reach.

“Stop,” he begs. “Carlos, you can stop now.”

Carlos’s feet ground to a halt.

Momentum carries him to a collision. Oscar flings his arms around Carlos, drags him out of the way just as a truck blares past their intended path.

--

“Asshole, you fucking asshole.” Big, gulping, uneven inhales. “Why did I, why did I go to you, I’m such an idiot, why did I even think you would, ah, fuck. Fuck.” His voice cracks into tiny pieces. “Stupid, stupid. Such a fucking idiot.”

Oscar tightens his hold around Carlos. Dead man’s grip, he’s not letting go. Even though they’re both shaking so hard each breath feels like a bruise. Carlos’s shoulder knocks into Oscar’s teeth, hard enough to cut his lip. Doesn’t matter, he’s not letting go. Oscar tugs Carlos, still trembling, over to the wall of the deserted street they’ve found themselves in. He sinks to the ground, back against the wall, pulling Carlos down with him.

“Breathe,” he says, a little hysterically. “Carlos, come on. Breathe.”

Deep, deep breaths, swelling through both their bodies. Fuck, fuck. Was that also a command? Could he tell Carlos to stop breathing and would Carlos just stop—

“Breathe!” Oscar nearly shouts, to force all other thoughts out of his head. “Carlos, listen to me, you’re alright.”

“—hate you,” Carlos is saying furiously. Oscar squeezes his eyes shut against the pain that lances through him. Nothing like the sting of his bleeding lip; this settles far deeper. “I can’t believe I, you. You.” More air, sucked through rattling lungs. “I shouldn’t have come to you.”

“Why did you?” Oscar says brokenly. He squeezes Carlos to him, then even though he shouldn’t, shouldn’t be allowed to, buries his forehead in the dip between Carlos’s shoulder blades. Selfishly uses Carlos to buttress himself. “Tell me.”

Another command, he realizes too late. Can he not even be in Carlos’s vicinity without being such a dickhead, fuck.

“I thought you wouldn’t.” Carlos’s chest heaves, his throat forcing out words against his will. “Of all people. You wouldn’t use it against me.”

“I wouldn’t,” Oscar whispers, like the greatest hypocrite in all the earth.

Oscar’s never heard Carlos laugh like that, derisive, painfully disparaging. All those times before, when Carlos had teased him, even after a race mistake, he’s done so maybe a little mockingly, but gently all the same. Prodding at Oscar with his bared teeth, but carefully enough he never broke skin. And now he sounds like he would be happy to be wiped clean of Oscar entirely.

Oscar cringes, tries to hide by burrowing further into Carlos’s back. This must be what being flayed alive feels like.

“You wouldn’t!” Carlos says, voice raising high and thready. “After you tried to kill me. After you made me, made me run like a dog huh? Was that fun for you? You like that, huh?”

Carlos’s shoulders pull uncomfortably taut. His shaking slows, the drug of adrenaline siphoning away. The rhythm of his breath changes, stutters, then quickens. His throat releases something wounded. The arm Oscar has braced against Carlos’s chest catches stray droplets, running off Carlos’s chin.

Oscar’s never going to be able to forget the way Carlos sounds broken down. Can’t do anything. Can’t even say something like, Don’t cry, for fear of stuffing all of Carlos’s tears back into him like a botched surgery.

He holds Carlos closer. Lips on the back of Carlos’s neck like he’s allowed, like he can impart I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry I’m so fucking stupid it will never happen again I promise. I promise.

“Breathe,” he says.

“Leave me alone,” Carlos says weakly.

 Nope, no. Never. “Breathe.”

“Just, leave me alone Oscar.” Carlos struggles in Oscar’s grip, a fish caught in a trap. He doesn’t have the leverage to break free, winded as he is, with one arm tucked under his own shirt, fingers pinching his side so hard the flesh’s turned white.

“You’re hurting yourself,” Oscar says softly. “Please let go, Carlos.”

Carlos’s fingers unclench. He lets out a low, hurt whine, frustration, anger at his own helplessness, at having to listen to Oscar. Of all people. “Fuck you,” Carlos says.

By the third time Oscar repeats it, his mind’s made up. “Breathe,” he orders. “Carlos. I’m going to fix this.”

(put that guy in a situation prompts)

[lionheartedmusings]

the thing about q!bad recreating the soulfire base basically block by block and planning to surprise the team with it is that it says a whole lot about him, where is was during purgatory, and where he is now.

q!bad spent months trying to burn bridges and push people away, he effectively placed himself in a distrusted position on the island, his children (the only reason that man breathes) vanished in the middle of the night, he was actively torturing himself and kidnapping people. he was a man on a mission, sure, but time and time again he reinforced to us the audience that he wasn't *happy* about what he had to do. his plan — whatever his plan is — is something he deems necessary enough to have been alright with ruining his own life. as he said to q!baghera: "i'm expendable".

suddenly there's hope in egg island, but egg island is actually a hellscape and he's trapped without his biggest support systems — q!bagi, q!baghera, q!foolish, and even to an extent q!forever were the people he had to take down, they couldn't be there for him anymore. and from his team? other than q!tina and q!aypierre, he wasn't close to anyone or was just... directly antagonistic towards them (mainly q!pac and q!tubbo).

and then the funniest thing happened — he found family in hell and in people he never truly expected to be comfortable around.

he grew to respect and care for q!tubbo, he grew much closer to q!tina, his relationship with q!aypierre was tested and strengthened, he found a connection with q!niki and by god, he protected q!pac — who'd once been terrified of him — with his life. even the people who didn't log on often, he grew to see as part of his pack in a way he (and i) didn't see coming.

when soulfire mains talk about them being the perfect example of found family, that's what we mean. slow, careful changes that grew into love and protection beyond belief — enough that when green gay ninjas were split, everyone was welcomed with a warm hug and a cup of tea, now part of the family undoubtedly and forever. just like that.

their family was hitting their stride when purgatory ended and q!bad tanked a nuke to his back to save his son, and now his bookshelves are all knocked over and his memory's slipping. he's dying, he knows he's dying, and he's holding on by a thread for dapper and pomme even if he's aware that he can't just "bear it" much longer. he's isolated again, hiding and lying about his condition, watching the world turn and knowing his clock is ticking... sometimes he knows nothing at all.

and in this moment of pain, and solemn realization of the end of this version of him?

he's spending his time rebuilding the last place that felt like home block by block, talking openly about how he feels nostalgic and misses their base, their god awful spawn, the memories they made. his time with his daughter has been spent down there.

i know we as a fandom have theorized that one of these days, his memory's gonna snap down there and he'll think he's back in purgatory and it'll be a mess. sure. but right now?

right now that rebuilt base means love, and friendship, and family, and safety. it's the last place things were okay, and he felt cared for in a way that frankly your children can't provide.

a group of ragtag mismatched people got put together in a poor man's hunger games and they saw this demon — bloodthirsty, destructive, full of cold calculated murderous intent and a need to win for his child and instead of being horrified, running away screaming from his fangs and his claws?

they loved him. they found the gentleness beneath the blood and guts. they called him their attack dog because he's so full of love and so protective, and would tear anyone to pieces to protect their family.

team soulfire saw q!bad in a way no one in the island had, and they loved him for it — even when he drove them up the walls and they had to hold the leash tight, they loved him.

and now he's remade their home.

[weebsinstash]

When I say with my entire being in my heart of hearts that I know with certainty that this-this-this THING right here would do the absolute most unbelievable petty gross obsessive dahmer level shit to you

He's petty he's evil he's got a childlike fascination for seeing what breaks people down and I hate him I hate him I hate him but ALSO what that dick do tho? 🤔

Mahito is the yandere over here doing shit like imprisoning you for his own selfishness and perhaps genuine affection but making you live in absolute deplorable conditions because He's Not Fucking Human And He Doesn't Even Know How To Feed You. He locks you away and disappears for an entire day and comes back with like a single can of wet dog food that he watches you eat from a squatting position like 5 inches away looking at you like Harley Quinn and the egg sandwich. Motherfucker would take all your clothes because he wants to see more of "the natural shape of you" and then doesn't understand why you start shivering. Or he deliberately keeps you like that because he wants to see how long it takes you to crack and beg him for help. He wants to see the depths of your pride as you refuse to grovel, curious of the lengths you'll go, the limits of your body against the chill

This depraved fuck will do dehumanizing little emotional experiments on you where he does shit just because he wants to see how you think and feel and what you'll do and I mean like he'll do SOME REAL SHIT. I'm talking maybe he's stalking you and you can't fight or use cursed techniques and you think he's just like, a human shaped spirit or something who's just a trickster, he's not being violent or getting you alone or anything yet, and then you come home to your apartment one day and he's literally disemboweled your cat on your coffee table and he's playing with pieces of it and says you were giving it more attention than him and sits there pouting as you scream and even tries to like touch you or hold your hand or hug you with. The fucking blood covered hands. like he would be so fucked up on purpose, "awww do you need me to hold you? You're so sensitive but i dont mind :3"

This man out here like "wdym you want me to stay away from you, all I did was kill your cat kill your mom kill your neighbor kill your best friend kill your boss' cousins' landlords' newborn baby BUT WAS THAT REALLY SO BAD 🥺" and does something infinitely worse to scare/coerce you into tolerating his presence

I'm not really uh into body horror or gore but as a side detail I feel like. Uh. There's like a legitimate risk of him actually unintentionally REALLY hurting you and has to use his powers to heal you. Like the one good thing he does is if he were to have you on death's door or like horribly injured he could just. Fix it. He twists a limb in a way he doesn't know it's not supposed to go and breaks it and then puts you back together like a broken toy while ooo'ing and aaa'ing at the way your skin stretches over the grotesque misalignment. Dare I say the horror of "him putting things that are way too big or weirdly shaped in you" also yeah he's one of the things he's putting in you and he's got a really gross like fascination with learning all about that stuff

He's really living just to see how many different ways he can make you cry and how many different emotions he can get you to display, just absolutely dedicated to terrorizing you while also chasing his own internal weird repressed desire for his own sort of belonging. You could be sitting there sobbing and he's either borderline getting off on it or he's standing there MAKING FUN OF YOUR CRIES like deadass even fake crying back to you

And the worst part is he'll do all this fucking shit to you and then the night comes and he'll still be over here like "and you'll let me cuddle you while you sleep right? 👉👈" and he'll be doing that Every. Single. Night. And what are you gonna do, try and kill yourself? Have fun risking accidentally making yourself a Curse and being stuck with him basically FOREVER

[bitethedustfools]

TWST Story idea (9)

Warning: inhumane treatment and view, abuse, human trafficking, obsession.

Twisted Wonderland, where non-magical people do not exist.

Imagine how NRC looked upon Yuu, the first non-magical human to ever exist. It was like seeing an exotic animal, the only one of its kind.

Yuu is not a being with a thinking mind, but an animal with no brain in the eyes of Twisted Wonderland. Seeing how Yuu reacts to the world with barely any knowledge only cements this fact.

Prefect? What a joke. Yuu is the Headmaster and the Housewardens' pet.

Yuu'll do the errands, Yuu'll be the scapegoat for every blame, a doll to be dressed and shown off, a frog to be dissected, a plushie to be cuddled and torn apart, a lion in a circus, doing tricks it abhors by the ringmaster.

Yuu can scream and threaten and hurt them and risk dying, but it's alright, Yuu are their beloved pet. It's nothing but a mild tantrum. Yuu will calm down soon anyway. It's always like that, and if not, a few rough handlings will do the trick. If the most vicious, unruly dogs can learn to behave and be obedient, so can Yuu.

Even if Yuu had become the most ugliest thing molded by their hands, Yuu will still be loved. Isn't that wonderful?

The others caught wind of this. The Royal Sword Academy wanted to see this non-magical thing, amazed and then astounded at their condition that is akin to an abused and leashed dog. Their kind and gentle hearts could never bear to see Yuu in such situation.

They wanted to sweep Yuu off their feet, ride on a white horse like a knight in shining armor, and place them in RSA where they will watch over Yuu and take care of their needs.

Rollo Flamm of the Noble Bell College, who dreamt that the world will be better without magic, began to show interest, obsessively so. It grew worse when he saw the state Yuu is in, proving that magic is indeed evil, and thus, bringing his hatred for magic to further heights.

He would find ways to meet, observe, and transfer Yuu to their college under the guise of 'justice'.

The Playful Land would prepare for the arrival of a new puppet. They'll put a stage for Yuu to stand on, dress them prettily, and handle them gently like precious goods. The spotlight is on Yuu, smile. Yuu will–is loved. The money bid on them will be the proof.

Fellow Honest stood back, Gidel hidden behind him. He would save Yuu, but at what cost? He couldn't save himself nor Gidel from this place.

It does not stop there. It spreads, people around the world would flock to NRC to see this precious, unique little thing by the name of Yuu.

Royalties and those who have money wanted to buy or demanded them to show up so they can see Yuu up close. Reporters would barged NRC daily and so on.

Getting kidnapped, harassed and no privacy is part of the norm.

How would Yuu ever break free and return home?

[cheriladycl01]

The Rookie Prodigy - Carlos Sainz x Driver! Reader Part 5

Plot: You are a rookie coming into the 2022 season of Formula One into Alfa Romeo with team member Zhou Guanyu, being in a mid tier team can you help them rise up the ranks. What pressures occur for the only rookies within the 2022 line up!

As said in your interviews you did spend the time in the break working on your fitness. You and Zhou stayed in Switzerland the whole time, you both were in the gym pretty much everyday.

You guys watched as your team made core improvements to the car, using lots from the Ferrari currently on the grid. You knew the car would be quicker for Italy and you were excited to race there as it was a track your car would do well in.

You didn't think much about what happened with Carlos either, because why would you. It was a heat of the moment thing where there was an obvious attraction to Carlos, he had the hair, the puppy dog eyes, those soft muscles and the accent. The accent was the thing that really got you.

You'd worked too hard to get to where you are now and you weren't going to risk neither your job, nor your reputation for a guy. Regardless of how insanely attractive you found him.

The break between your last race in Australia until IMOLA felt very short despite it being a two weekend gap. Your mind was extremely clear and you were ready for this weekend.

You and Zhou flew to Italy from Switzerland and went right to the track. You both messed around for the whole of media day to the point where people couldn't actually find you both.

You were causing chaos round the paddock, running up and down the strip seeing who could do it the quickest or seeing who could sneak into a different teams hospitality and take a snack.

When media did find you, both you and Zhou couldn't stop laughing at everything the both of you were saying. Sometime's you'd say a joke to him in Chinese which obviously had the two of you screaming of laughter while the team and presenters awkwardly tried to work out what was so funny.

You eventually answered the racing related questions which everyone especially your PR managers were happy for even though you couldn't tell them about any of the improvements on the car. Just that you felt like this would be an more interesting race putting you into the higher mid field than you were right now.

Race day came so soon, and after being told to attempt to sand bag a little in FP1 coming 11 overall. You ended up qualifying 8th overall, which wasn't what you or you team were looking for but after running into some last minute car issues you just weren't there.

Saturday was awful, because of those car issues you didn't actually manage to get out for FP2 and went straight into the Sprint race. Luckily you were in points position coming in P7.

When it came to the race your car was fully ready and so were you. Zhou however had the opposite of you, where he had to have work done on his car when in Parc-Ferme conditions so he had to start from the pit lane.

You'd managed some immense overtakes throughout the race and you managed to come P4. It was your highest position yet and your race engineer couldn't be happier with you.

"Amazing race Y/N, guessing you had changes to the car after Australia and well, we really got to see your driving abilities up there today. You know considering that was a mid-field car, you really really showed us what you are made off!" the interviewer offers.

"Yeah it was a fantastic drive, just shy of a podium. Lando, was driving extremely well and defended from me until the end and I cant congratulate him more for that podium. Is it okay if i call this short, I want to be there to support my friend!" you smile, looking at the time next to the clock by the interviewing knowing the podium would be soon.

"Yes, yes of course!" she shoos you away, making comments on how you have some of the purest and kindest relationships on the grid.

You ran up to where all the Mclaren and Red Bull workers stood. You waited off to the back waiting for Max, Sergio and Lando to come out.

"Hey, we haven't spoken for a while" a voice says behind you making you jump a little.

"Lewis?" you ask in shock, looking around to see if anyone else was here from Mercedes but he seemed to be alone.

"Yes, Y/N?" he asks looking directly at you.

"What are, what are you doing here?" you ask.

"Just watching the celebrations. Well done on the race today, you did amazing!" he compliments making a light blush come across your cheeks.

"Thank you, I er, would say the same for you but today was a kind of shit show for you!" you smile softly.

"Yeah, the car had no pace at all. I'll come back next week in Miami!" he smiles rubbing your shoulder. After a minute of silence he starts the conversation up again.

"I haven't really spoken to you for a while, what's been going on?" he asks titling his head to the side.

"I've just been focused on getting better, I-" you say about to mention Carlos but decide against it.

"You what?" he pushes looking over at you.

"Ceremony is starting, shhhhh!" you smile putting a finger up to your lip and cheer loudly as Lando comes out onto stage. Your jumping up and down, making him laugh and shake his head. All the McLaren workers turn to look at whoever was celebrating more than them, laughing when they see you.

"Of course it's her!" one of them jokes, before turning back as Sergio walks out shortly followed making the whole of the Red Bull Team go wild.

You stand there respectfully as the Deutsch National Anthem starts to play. Once it ends and everyone starts to leave where they are you turn to Lewis.

"Did you want to go out in Miami, I know this amazing Vegan restaurant and I think your personal trainer will be happy with what they serve there" he offers and you think about it for a few seconds.

I mean, Carlos literally cornered you and kissed you, but Lewis he was just asking you to dinner as friends before the next race.

"Yeah sure, I'd like that. I don't have any friends in Florida. So having one will be nice!" you smile, before your PR manager comes up to you explaining that you need to go to the race debriefing.

You and Lewis had of course been photographed in the paddock together and loads of media accounts had gotten a hold of it.

Carlos had seen these posts, some of them particularly the tweets suggesting that you were both flirting and other posts suggesting that you watched the podium together.

He was shocked at first, he was angry that you would reject him the way you did and then say yes to Lewis.

But after he had some time to cool down and realize what had actually occurred, he came to the conclusion that these posts were the exact reason you couldn't be in a relationship with him. Everyone was always up in your business and it meant that whatever you were doing outside of driving they would use to critique your skills.

You probably had just bumped into Lewis at the podium ceremony and that picture was taken at the perfect time for the media to stir ridiculous stories about Lewis asking you out on a date in Miami to a Vegan restaurant.

He understood why you said what you said, now seeing how easily picked apart your life was. But he wanted to change that, he wanted to be able to be with you without all this animosity.

But how the Miami weekend would change things Carlos or yourself wasn't prepared for.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hero x villain, they usually get bruised, bloody, and hurt after every fight. one day, the hero staggers half dead through the city, trying to escape someone or something, and hide.

their own nemesis, the ruthless villain, discovers them limping about, easy pickings. they begin with their big bad speech w/ threats until they see that the hero wasn't wounded, they were tortured.

hero sees a side of the villain they had never seen before. villain approaches, says, "who did this to you" ಠ⌣ಠ

They counted themselves lucky when they found an alleyway.

Away from the busy street and the chatting people, they pushed themselves into the darkest corner, into the probably filthiest part of the city.

Fucking hell, it was raining cats and dogs and the hero was sure this was some sick and twisted joke. They’d infect their wound here.

Hospital wasn’t an option. Even if they did reach it in time, announcing themselves and risking their family’s and friend’s safety was something they couldn’t allow.

Their apartment was south, too far south for them to reach. And a hero base hadn’t been constructed in this district yet.

They groaned and threw their head back, putting more and more pressure onto the wound until they had to bite back a scream. What a fucking night.

For mere seconds, they closed their eyes and allowed themselves to rest, despite the ringing in their ears, despite the blood loss and despite the shortening breath. Could they leave a message? So their family could at least get the body? The hero doubted it. They’d lost their phone somewhere during the struggle. Or did it get smashed? They didn’t remember.

When they opened their eyes, the villain stood before them, looking at where the hero had slid down the brick wall.

“What a pretty catch,” they said.

“Sorry, not for sale,” the hero rasped. At this point it didn’t matter, did it? If the villain wanted to kill them, fine. At least the ugly truth wouldn’t come out.

The villain gave one of their cruel, unforgiving smirks and tilted their head. It was a game to them. A game that was too cruel for the hero.

“Well, I’m a big fan of theft.”

“You’re funny.” The hero didn’t laugh. Maybe they would’ve. But the blood loss was killing them. Oxygen. They needed oxygen. Their organs would shut down pretty soon.

“I’ve been following you for like twenty minutes.” The villain observed them slowly, eyes going up and down, inspecting the wounds as if it was their job.

“Ever gotten that checked out? Bit possessive.”

“Aren’t we all, when it comes to you?” Now it was the hero’s turn to smile and to their own surprise, it was real. They meant it. The villain had made them smile.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pretty popular, don’t you think? People love you, villains hate you. You’re the hot stuff. End boss of my personal mini game.” The hero let out a whimper and squeezed their eyes shut. Having superpowers didn’t free them from pain. The villain frowned.

Exclusivity wasn’t a privilege that also jumped over to their medical condition. Unfortunately.

The hero cursed in their mind. They should’ve been smarter, should’ve seen this coming. What a waste of their own potential.

“This is just a mini game?” the hero asked, wheezing.

“My favourite one.” The villain squatted, closer than they’d ever been to the hero and for a second, the hero expected to be murdered with a knife or worse, tortured even more with the villain’s finger twisting and turning in their open wounds.

But the villain lifted the hero’s arms gently, looked at the wounds, made a grimace and gazed back at the hero.

Something in their face screamed confusion. And something much subtler, whispered anger with the promise of action. It made the villain unpredictable and the hero hated that.

“What?” the hero said.

“Who?” They stared at the wound, brows knitted together. “Who did this?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m dying.”

“I can save you,” the villain said. No hesitation, no second-guessing, just an idea that sounded more like a promise. “But you’ll have to give me the name. Now.”

The hero stared at their enemy. Stared and stared, hoping this was a dream or a sick joke. They couldn’t afford to like the villain, couldn’t afford anything but hate for them.

And yet…the hero’s family, their friends, the city…You’re pretty popular, don’t you think? The city needed them. Obligation.

They had to live. Had to survive to protect. To fight. Not for their own sake but for others. For those who couldn’t protect themselves.

“My sidekick,” the hero said. “My sidekick is trying to torture and kill me.”

[mj-iza-writer]

idk if you take requests but like Consider this pet whump,,

A wolf-hybrid (like those dogboys) Whumpee that Whumper conditioned and trained into a lapdog but also guard-attack dog,and since they're wolf, a hunting animal, people think that they'll just attack them yeah? Wrong. Whumpee doesn't maul until commanded to.

And just meeting Caretaker, someone older yet scared of them, bc thry have a fear of wolves, and thinks that Whumpee will kill them but then Whumpee just hits with

"Oh don't worry! I'm domesticated and trained, I won't attack you :3"

Like its the most normal thing, and they have a muzzle and collar...

Caretaker also probably doesn't know about Whumper, so its even funnier

Yes I absolutely take request. Thankyou so much.

Warnings: killing, mentions of main character dying. They survive. Hybrid human wolf pet.

**GRRR**

Whumper frowned when they heard that growl.

"What is it pet?", Whumper asked while they turned.

They looked up just in time to see a gun pointed at them. The assailant? No one Whumper knew.

"Whumpee protect!", Whumper ordered.

Whumpee quickly went into protection mode. They leaped forward, then charged.

The gun sounded. Whumper heard Whumpee scream.

They watched as Whumpee continued to charge the assailant. They turned and ran inside to grab their gun.

'Why didn't I have this on me', they yelled at themself.

"Whumpee off", they ordered as they ran back out and aimed the gun.

Whumpee jumped away and fell to the dirt.

Whumper's gun went off... the assailant slumped to the ground.

"Whumpee?", Whumper stepped over to them, "shit", they frowned as Whumpee struggled to get up. Blood poured from a bullet wound in Whumpee's shoulder.

"Whumpee, I'm sorry, but that isn't fixable. You are no good to me like this", Whumper stated matter of factly, "and after all the money I've spent on you. What a waste."

"I-I thought I was your good puppy... Master", Whumpee whispered as they looked down, "you said that last night while y-you were petting me. Was it a lie?"

"No it wasn't a lie, but it's not about you being good. It's about you being useful. You can't receive rewards like being pet and receiving treats, and being on my lap if you can't serve me", Whumper frowned.

"But" Whumpee looked down sadly, "I just saved you."

"And?" Whumper looked at them with agitation, "that was your job. You did it, and now you're wounded.... useless.

Whumpee was served a final dinner. Two raw chicken breasts and a cut of steak from Whumper's dinner.

Whumpee slowly ate... they knew what was coming next.

Whumper forced a muzzle on Whumpee, then attached a leash to their collar.

"May... May I take my chew rag?", Whumpee looked over at the only toy they had been given.

Whumper nodded as they loaded their gun.

Whumper took the rag and stuffed it into Whumpee's mouth, then rubbed something on their nose before putting the muzzle back on.

The door opened... before Whumper could reach down for the leash Whumpee ran.

They ran as fast as their body could go.

"Get back here... I'm giving you an honorable death... you fucking....", Whumper yelled as they shot off two rounds after Whumpee.

"Crap", Whumper screamed when the gun only clicked.... signaling the gun was empty.

Off Whumpee ran into the trees. Completely hidden from view.

Whumpee ran for miles before remembering again that they had been wounded earlier.

They leaned up against the tree and took some deep breaths. Whumper did them in with forcing the rag into their mouth. They couldn't pant to cool off, and they wouldn't be able to drink water.

They tried to sniff, but nothing was coming through.

'What did they rub on my nose, I can't smell anything', Whumpee frowned, 'I won't survive for long. I can't hunt or eat, I can't drink. I can't even regulate my body temperature. Maybe I should have let them kill me. I'm not ready to die, I can't die. I will find someone, and I will be useful. I'm a good pup.'

Whumpee struggled to get up, they crawled a few feet and collapsed again.

"Ymph", Whumpee moaned weakly. They looked down at where the wound was, 'they couldn't even patch me up before killing me', Whumpee mumbled, 'I'm so tired.'

Caretaker, a avid outdoor lover, had wandered into the woods for some tree therapy. They just wanted to enjoy a small hike.

They had one rule... always carry a gun.

Whumpee woke up, and looked around. Remembering where they were.

They got up weakly and limp-crawled forward.

Their throat had become so dry. The rag was soaking up all of their saliva. It had also made swallowing a challenge.

Finally, they found a small stream. They tried to sniff it, but whatever Whumper had rubbed on them must have taken away their ability to smell.

They now couldn't tell if the water was safe to drink. They sat down in annoyance and looked at the water sadly.

'I might truly die out here', Whumpee whimpered.

Just then, Whumpee noticed a visitor come into the clearing by the stream.

Caretaker looked over the view until they noticed two eyes staring at them.

Caretaker looked at them wide-eyed as they took in their appearance.

They appeared to be one of those hybrid wolf pets. A few of their hunting friends had mentioned. They said they could be quite dangerous if cornered.

Whumpee's furry ears moved in every direction as they took in the situation. Their nose wrinkled as they sniffed the air to no avail.

"Where is your Master?", Caretaker lifted their gun, believing the poor person had been seriously injured or killed by the hybrid. They had clearly run away. Their leash and muzzle were still attached after all.

Whumpee cowarded away and whined as the gun was pointed at them. They looked sadly at the stranger.

The movement caused Whumpee to quickly reach up and hold their bullet wound. They looked over their hand for a split second and saw the fresh blood.

"Wait... you're bleeding", Caretaker lowered their gun, "what happened?"

Whumpee looked up at them sadly.

"Maybe hybrids can't talk", Caretaker sighed, "I feel like I should.... do you promise not to attack me if I help you?"

Whumpee quickly and enthusiastically nodded.

"Okay", Caretaker inched nervously to Whumpee. Their hand shook as they unlocked Whumpee's muzzle.

Whumpee quickly moved their head away from the muzzle and spit out their rag.

Caretaker studied Whumpee. They seemed to have a small dog shaped mouth, and as they started to pant to cool off, Caretaker saw their teeth.

"I-I won't hurt you", Whumpee whispered hoarsely, "I am well trained. I only attack when ordered."

"Where is your Master then?", Caretaker frowned as they pulled out a container of water, "are you thirsty?"

Whumpee quickly nodded again. They took the bottle as it was offered.

"Thankyou so much", Whumpee sighed in relief.

"My Master trained me as an attack wolf. Though it goes against the nature of us hybrids", Whumpee looked down at their wound, "earlier someone came onto my Master's property to kill them. I was ordered to protect and took a bullet before they could kill the assailant. With my injury, my Master was going to kill me. I received my last meal, they strapped that muzzle on me. Took it off to give me my toy", Whumpee paused and held up the rag, "they then rubbed something on my nose. When they opened the door, I made a run for it. They shot two rounds at me, but missed. They couldn't even patch me up before they killed me."

Caretaker listened, then nodded, "I-I'm sorry, I was accusing you of hurting your Master."

"It's okay. I-I wasn't ready to die. They made me work for love and attention. I was only a good pup when I did my job well. I didn't even get told that after being shot. I was just told that I'd served my purpose, and that I'd be dying", Whumpee for the first time that day let a tear fall, "I-I didn't want to die, I want to be someone's good pup."

Caretaker frowned, "I think the first thing is to get you out of here. I think I know where the lab is that creates you hybrids. My friends talk about it. I don't know where else to take you, so we will start there."

Whumpee nodded and tried to get up. They winced as weight went on their shoulder.

"Would it be better if I carried you?", Caretaker looked them over, "I think I'll be able to."

Whumpee nodded and watched as Caretaker packed the bottle, muzzle, and their chew rag into a bag. They lifted Whumpee to their shoulders and grabbed their gun.

"I have no idea what will happen if we see your Master though", Caretaker took a few steps.

"They wouldn't come out this far to find me", Whumpee sighed, "apparently I am now considered their expensive waste of time. They probably looked for a few minutes and gave up. They pretty much did me in anyways", Whumpee whispered.

"What do you mean?", Caretaker started to walk quickly after they found the trail.

"With that rag in my mouth and the muzzle, I wouldn't have been able to hunt or eat. The rag also soaked up saliva, and I couldn't pant. So starvation and heatstroke. They also rubbed something on my nose to take away my smelling abilities. Again I couldn't hunt, but I couldn't smell for clean water. So dehydration. Or you know some stranger comes across me and shoots me."

Caretaker looked at them sadly, "sorry about that."

"I don't blame you... I'm just saying. I could have easily died if you hadn't found me and showed mercy", Whumpee whispered tiredly, "I think the blood loss is getting to me again. I'm so tired."

"Help.. help", Caretaker ran into the lab.

"Woe... Woe. What's going on?", a scientist caught Caretaker by the arm. Several guards rushed to protect.

"Outside.... hybrid... injured.... needs help", Caretaker gasped for air. Whumpee ended up falling asleep again. They were unconscious by the time Caretaker made it to their car.

The scientist hurried out the door with Caretaker.

They frowned when they saw what shape the hybrid was in.

"I recognize them", the scientist rubbed Whumpee's head sadly, "I hope we are not too late", they lifted Whumpee out of the vehicle and took them inside.

While Whumpee was being worked on, Caretaker told a nurse about everything that had happened and what Whumpee had told them. They also showed the muzzle and rag.

The scientists came into the lounge where Caretaker had been asked to wait.

"I don't know how you did it... but you got them here before it was too late. We had maybe five minutes to spare before intervention would have done nothing. They need a lot of care and TLC, but I really appreciate you finding them", the scientists carried the notes from what Caretaker had said, "I've read through these. I will be pressing charges against their previous owner for their use of my creation."

"I feel so bad... I've heard so many scary things about these hybrids... I almost shot them", Caretaker frowned worriedly, "I thought they had done something to their master."

"There are a lot of people who don't understand these hybrids that I create. About the most dangerous thing about them is that they are good hunters. And a lot of people love to have them as hunting pets. Other than that, they are giant couch potatoes that love cuddling and playing with toys. It hurts that the only toy they had received was an old rag. What that person did goes completely against the contract they sign when they purchase a hybrid."

Caretaker looked at them, "what is this contract about."

"It protects me as the creator, but also the hybrid. They would have had to sit through a two hour lecture with me on how to care for one of them. The contract at the end has everything that was covered during that lecture. Some of which explains that they are not to be an attack or guard dog. They are domesticated and not made to do that type of work. You can not shoot them. Any purposefu damages done to them will be legally tried as both animal abuse and human assault. I have enough to lock them away for good."

Caretaker visits Whumpee with a surprise a few days later. A brand new toy, the first Whumpee has had since being taken by Whumper.

Caretaker is with Whumpee when Whumper comes in.

They received a call that Whumpee was found and needed to come to the lab. Whumper thought they were going to collect Whumpee, then would off them later.

They were surprised to walk in and be instantly taken by guards, then arrested by the police.

Whumpee prances out of a hiding spot as Whumper is being stood up. They smile big as Whumper starts cursing at them.

Caretaker pats Whumpee's head lovingly as Whumper is led away.

"I'll see you in court", the scientist frowns as Whumper is led out of the building.

"You're free from them, Whumpee", the scientist grins at Whumpee.

Around a month later.

"Hey, I was wondering, I've been coming and visiting Whumpee for a little while now. What will be done with Whumpee now?", Caretaker sat beside the scientist, and they both watched Whumpee play with their toys.

Whumpee stopped and looked up.

"Well unfortunately they may be a hard adoption to another owner because of the injuries and what their recent owner did to them. I don't think anyone will want a hybrid with guard like tendencies", the scientist sighed as Whumpee limp crawled to them and rested their chin on the scientist's knee, "I'm afraid they'll be here for a while."

Caretaker watched as Whumpee continued to lean on the scientist's knee.

"It's honestly a shame, these are so ready to become someone's pet. They train so hard for the one thing that they want... a loving family", the scientist patted Whumpee's head and watched as a tear ran down Whumpee's face, "they'll of course get love and attention here no doubt, but they're made to be a companion for someone, not just taken care of in a lab."

"What would I have to do to be able to take them from you, and give them a home?", Caretaker watched as Whumpee's head jumped up.

"I suppose I would need you to have the lecture and sign the contract", the scientist smiled weakly, "I won't make you pay. I will get everything I need from this lawsuit against Whumper. Are you sure though?"

"Yes, Whumpee has grown on me. I went from being terrified of these hybrids to falling in love with them", Caretaker winked at Whumpee, "I would be okay with the lecture and contract. If you're okay with this Whumpee."

Whumpee quickly nodded.

A few weeks past. Caretaker had finished the lecture and signed the contract. Their home was approved to have Whumpee live their. They had plenty of time to get Whumpee all kinds of surprises to come home to.

Whumpee was released that day. They were finally given a medical discharge from the lab. Only that they needed to keep their appointments now. Something Whumper never did.

Whumpee rode home in the back seat of Caretaker's car. They happily stuck their face out to take in the smells in the wind.

Finally after a while they pulled into a small neighborhood.

Whumpee looked out excitedly.

"This is the neighborhood that I live in", Caretaker smiled at them in the mirror, "a few neighbors are excited to meet you, but they'll give you a few days before hand to get settled."

Whumpee jumped out of the car and quickly sniffed around the yard.

They looked up at Caretaker happily, "my old Master didn't have grass. This feels so good."

"I'm glad to hear you say that", Caretaker grinned, "are you ready to go in?"

"I-I can go inside?", Whumpee studied Caretaker to see if they were telling the truth.

"Yes of course. Where you not allowed to before?", Caretaker unlocked the door and opened it.

"Only on special occasions", Whumpee shyly looked into the home from the edge of the doorway.

"I have a special surprise in the living room for you, but you can take your time", Caretaker smiled, "I know this is all so new."

Whumpee sniffed around the home for a little while. Caretaker let them adventure on their own.

Whumpee found Caretaker in the kitchen.

"How are you enjoying your new home?", Caretaker showed them a bowl, "are you hungry? I got lunch ready while you looked around."

Whumpee nodded excitedly. They followed Caretaker to some bowls on an elevated surface.

"There we go", Caretaker smiled as Whumpee started to eat.

"I'll be out in the living room right through there", Caretaker pointed, "your surprise is in there."

Whumpee looked up and nodded before going back to eating.

Whumpee peaked into the living room when they finished and immediately saw the gifts Caretaker had mentioned.

A new dog bed and several toys littered the floor. Caretaker had looked over from folding a blanket.

"Oh there you are", Caretaker smiled as they laid the blanket on the bed, "I hope you like all of this. You can, of course, be on the furniture. I'm putting another bed in my room as well. I'm waiting for it to be delivered."

Whumpee cautiously looked at all of the things. They stepped closer and sniffed everything.

"What do you think of it all?", Caretaker knelt on the floor and patted Whumpee's head, "do you like it?"

"Ye-yes Master... I've never had any of these things", Whumpee felt a tear fall from their eye, "this... it feels like a dream. One that I secretly hoped for, for so long."

"This isn't a dream, I promise. You will be so spoiled, even more than what they recommended. I'm so excited to have you here", Caretaker smiled as they scratched Whumpee's ears, "you're a good pup, and deserve so much."

Whumpee felt a tear role down their cheek when they heard those coveted words.

That night, Caretaker had pulled the dog bed onto the couch. Whumpee now lay on top of that. Their head on Caretaker's lap.

They laughed at Whumpee's snoring.

Caretaker gently massaged Whumpee's neck under their new collar.

They took a picture and sent it to the scientist.

The scientist texted back a little after.

"I'm glad you took them home... I was hoping you would ask, but I didn't want to put you on the spot like that. I thought you'd be a good fit. They look happy. Exactly how I hoped this would happen for all of my babies. Let me know if you need anything."

Caretaker happily continued to pet Whumpee's soft fur until they to fell asleep.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @sunglasses-in-the-bentley

@isikedmyself878

[jaywalkers]

hi róisín, since ur in med, i was wondering : is aftg v medically accurate ?

hihi! i'll preface with that i'm not a med student, i'm a final year paramedic student, but i think my scope and areas of practice fit the antics the foxes get into in aftg enough to comment on it!

i won't talk on aftg's take on medications, antipsychotics or otherwise, because a lot of other lovely people who are far more educated on the topic have written about it! when it comes to aftg's treatment of injuries, though, i do have some things to say.

i'm going to tee up a couple of examples of frontline medical treatment in aftg and make some comments on them! granted they're very messy, but i hope they're understandable enough.

from the best, to the worst:

kevin's hand

i don't think it's unfeasible that kevin was back to playing capacity two years after his injury happened — while i think that his hand was probably severely fractured, and there was likely different fingers involved too, with good surgical intervention (which he was likely able to access) hand fractures, even complex ones, can be healed enough in 4-6 months.

the ligament injuries would be the more pertinent, and i think those would be the more pressing concern for him outside of the healed bones, considering ligament injuries can cause chronic issues not limited to pain. i would be surprised if abby was the sole medical provider for the foxes, because while she does appear to be a well-rounded sports nurse, kevin probably would have needed to work with a dedicated physiotherapist and/or a hand specialist to get the use of his hand semi-back to normal.

other questions abt kevin's medical problems? please observe here

2. neil's wounds post baltimore

when it comes to how these wounds are treated by medical staff, i have no concerns. the hospital neil is brought to by the FBI seems to have treated the wounds well and left him to sleep off any negative follow-on effects from the chloroform. the only thing i have qualms with is the implication from the hotel scene that the hospital has put an adhesive dressing over neil's burn on his cheek, which is a big no in wound-dressing — burned skin is very delicate, and adhesives can damage or rip it away with removal. it's why we use glad-wrap in the prehsopital setting for burns, because it's sterile and not sticky!

abby, when she gets her hands on neil, changes the bandages so the wounds can be visualised and aired out, cleans them again, and then re-dresses them cleanly. i have no issues here.

when it comes to how these wounds are treated by andrew, i have only this text from my brother when he first read the series a couple of years ago

throughout the series, including post-nest, andrew is constantly getting his grubby little mitts in neils fresh wounds. he should not be doing that. in particular in the hotel scene he peels away the adhesive dressing over a burn which is just a recipe for tissue-loss, severe pain, and increased risk of infection. i don't know how abby didn't scream because i would have.

just andrew. in general. yikes, my dude. don't do that.

3. jean

jean. he is the kicked dog of this series and i genuinely don't know how he was alive at the start of the book series, let alone at the end. at the start of the series, he has (according to the EC) experienced not only numerous fractures to various bones, but has had two incidences where he 'bashed his head open on the concrete', and needed 266 stitches total. also ten incidences of waterboarding.

if we break this down: that's two major head injuries, multiple incidences of significant amounts of blood loss, and ten incidences of asphyxial peri-arrest events.

it's further implied by both the novels and the extra content that jean was not given time to heal from these injuries, and instead had to play games. add to that the hours of the nest and the living conditions, and i actually cannot fathom how jean was not yet dead, by either a single incident or the culmination of many. exy is a contact sport. those head injuries, plus an accidental shoulder-check into the plexiglass could have, and should have killed him.

i'm glad he didn't. i think it's important that he didn't. but it is a miracle of biology and the sanctity of his cerebral blood vessels that he stays alive to the end of the books.

---

anyway i hope this all makes a bit of sense! im writing this half-mad with eight hours until my last exam for my 2nd to last semester so i'm running on energy drinks and way too much memorisation work of how benzos work. thank you for the question! and as always, please field more my way i LOVE this stuff.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Escape Artist - Chapter 6

Well... it's been a long time coming! You might know that this chapter was dragged from me kicking and screaming 😅 It wasn't until spin class on Monday that it really started to come together, and then today I really cracked on so I could avoid doom scrolling all day... so silver linings and all that.

To that end, I really, really hope you enjoy this one - let me know your thoughts! Comments, as always, are love, and I do truly love to hear from you 💜

Masterlist

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5

Tag list: @moonmaiden1996 @theskytraveler @acrackintheteacup @succulentthief

He watched Clover in the garden running rings around the dog who was clearly over the moon to see her. He'd wondered on the way over if he should have called beforehand. 

He'd secured the dog the evening before, Eugene had gone to River with no fuss. Sensing zero danger, he’d sat patiently on the passenger seat next to him, staring at him like they were new best friends. The puppy yapped excitedly when it caught the scent of one of Clover’s headbands left in the car. It had been far too late to show up at Ella's, so they'd sat together on River's sofa watching a late night film. He'd put out a bed and a couple of toys but Eugene had followed him from room to room as he switched off lights, locked up and brushed his teeth, then the dog had slept on the end of River's bed and snored all night. 

It was worth sharing his space for the look on Clover's face when he'd knocked the door. She peeked out of the barely open crack in the door, shot a wary look across the road at the Range Rover with two of Flyte’s men inside, and then looked directly at River holding the wriggling puppy, then back to the car, doing a perfect double take.

She was rolling around on the floor with Eugene before he could even say hello. 

And then Ella had appeared on the stairs, skidding to a halt on wet feet. Soap suds still clung to her bare legs and he'd followed their path upwards to where the two sides of the towel didn't quite overlap. 

His mouth had gone dry as she'd fidgeted with the end, trying to pull it down, her blush crept down her throat and beyond where her arm was desperately pining the towel against her chest. 

“You -” she started, the disbelief written all over her face, River fought against the smirk of victory at catching her completely unaware. “You got the dog?”

She gently batted the dog away from nipping her ankles, demanding her attention but she struggled to tear her eyes from River until Clover had begged to go outside.

“How'd you get the dog?” Her voice was full of wonder, something he hadn’t heard before. There was an underlying wariness and he got the feeling she’d been baited and trapped like this before.

Her dripping hair had left fat drops of water on the floor and Eugene until River had suggested that she get dressed. Mainly for his own sanity.

Dried and dressed, Ella made her way across the kitchen to stand next to him at the window to watch as Eugene tripped over his ears again. 

He felt her look over at him, her eyes narrowed.

“Please tell me?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“You didn’t break in?”

“I promise I did not break in. And I promise this isn’t some kind of trap or test.” She softened with relief.

“I don't know what to say,” hearing the wobble in her voice, he turned to watch her watching Clover in the garden. “Thank you doesn't even begin to cover -”

“Thank you is fine,” he said firmly. 

“But you're here so early as well, what are you even going to do?”

“Whatever you need me to. Blow up balloons, string up some banners,” he paused at the wide smile on her face, “what?”

She shook her head, grinning. “Nothing. I just… nothing has ever been this easy before,” she said quietly. “None of this has ever come without some kind of conditions or expectations attached to it.”

“No clauses, no ulterior motives. This is what actual people who are friends do for each other. So I’m told.”

 “So you’re told,” she sniggered. “Ok. Let's get you to work then, if you insist?”

“Do your worst, Cole.” He shrugged.

“Oh, now you're talking -”

“Alright, alright. Don't forget the thing with the dog, ok? I put up with him snoring all night.” 

At that, she looked up sharply. 

“Wait, what? You looked after him all night? At your place? In your bed?”

“On my bed, not in. I'm very particular about who's sharing my bed.”

“I… you…” She stumbled over her words briefly, before choosing to glare at him instead. “Sandwiches. You can help me make sandwiches.”

So they stood side by side making sandwiches. 

She sighed, adding more cheese to an already full slice of bread. 

“Thank you. Again.”

“You’re welcome. Again.” He looked over purely to see the small smile and shake of her head. She cut her sandwich into precise triangles and put them alongside his slightly wonkier ones.

“I just… I just want to know why.”

“Why what?”

“I’m not sure we… I’m not sure I deserve any of this. Clover, sure, she’s just a kid. Though god knows how she’ll turn out after all of this. What if she’s like him?” He could hear the fear in her voice, her hands had slowed their rhythmic work.

“I told you, it’s what friends do, and she won’t. She’s got you.”

“Yeah, but what if it’s not enough?”

“I found out who my father was,” he started slowly, “Not long before you started. I'd never known before. My mum hasn't really been around, and she lied whenever I asked before.” Ella carried on with the sandwiches, but he could tell she was listening intently. “He's not a good man, he's about as far from good as you can get. And she… she left me. I reminded her too much of the life she wanted with him. Got in her way.”

“God, River, that’s awful -”

“My grandparents brought me up,” he continued. “All of this with you, with Clover, it’s made me think a lot about how we’re raised. I could have had a different life, I had brothers I didn’t know existed. He brought them up as these fucking cult assassins, kidnapping women from all over Europe, getting them pregnant and then keeping the kids for himself. That could have been me, easily. My mum was… brainwashed by him.”

“How did you get out?”

“I didn’t, I wasn’t even born. My grandad swapped my mother for cash, passports, weapons - anything he could. He found out she was pregnant with me once he'd gotten her back, but she didn’t want to be here,” he said bitterly. “She didn’t want me.” Ella’s hand reached out to cover his own. “That’s why I know Clover is going to be fine, El. You wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her.” He took his hand back to brush roughly over his cheek, taking a deep breath and regaining his composure. “Once I was with my grandparents, things were… different. Mostly better. I think my grandfather still resents where I come from, and he’s never forgiven my mother.”

“But you were loved?”

“I wasn’t unloved,” he shrugged. “Clover will be nothing like her father -” 

“And you’re nothing like yours,” she added. “God, what a fuck up.”

She slipped an arm up and over his and pulled him into an unsuspected hug. He let his head drop into the crook of her neck and the scent of her shampoo overwhelm him. She sighed, her voice muffled from pressing herself against him. “How are any of us supposed to know how to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Life,” she let go of him and raised her hands, palms to the sky. 

“There must be some people out there with a regular life,” he laughed a little. 

“Not us, though.”

“Not us.”

“Do you ever worry that everything that happened, where you really come from, is going to infect everything around you?” She asked.

“Every day. I was a total fucking mess before you started with us. Louisa and Catherine… they’ve been helping me see that it’s not true. It doesn’t have to be family who saves you.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start with mine. I couldn’t have done any of this without all of you,” she said openly. “I still don’t know how I’m supposed to show Clover what real love looks like when I don’t know myself. I feel like I haven’t been myself since before I met Eddie, and I was a kid then, what if I’m not a good enough person?”

He stood behind her, took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face the window. Clover was sitting in the too long grass with Eugene in her lap hugging him fiercely.

“She says otherwise,” he said softly into her ear. She nodded and turned back to him.

“C’mon, back to work, slacker. I’ve got a cake to ice.”

They got back to work, River finishing sandwiches and Ella on the cake. 

“Does she know what’s going on today?” He asked after Clover had appeared for the third time to steal food he was preparing.

“She knows a few people are coming over. I mean, that’s all that’s happening. I doubt anyone from work will show up, except maybe Louisa and that’s only because I promised cake.” She’d pulled her hair up and out of the way so she could lean over the cake, piping bag in hand. River finished his prep and made his way over to watch as she carefully piped Clover’s name onto the top of the cake.

“Why’s it say Blower?” He asked from over her shoulder.

“It says Clover, you dick.” She laughed, digging an elbow into his ribs.

“How does that say Clover?”

“There’s the C -”

“Looks like a B.”

“Piss off. That’s the V -”

“That’s not a V.” She stood up straight quicker than he’d anticipated and turned to him with the piping bag still in hand. As she turned, she left a line of icing on his t-shirt. She glanced up at him, a flash of fear crossing her face. He was quick to put her at ease with a snigger of incredulity, the fear dissolving before it had set in. Her tightly pursed lips hid her smile as she swiped a finger over it and brought the finger to her mouth to lick off the luminous pink icing. 

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. 

Eugene and Clover clattered through the back door and the spell was broken. 

“Mum! Can I get changed for the party?” Clover bubbled excitedly.

“Course you can babe, let’s wipe Gene’s muddy feet before he goes upstairs though.” Clover and Eugene ran off to the small bathroom next to the kitchen.

“You did that on purpose,” River said with a wry smile.

“If you say so. But that,” she challenged, “is definitely a V.” 

“Oh Eugene, don’t do that!” 

“Oh look, I think that’s my cue,” Ella grinned with a ‘what can you do, eh?’ shrug upon hearing Clover’s giggles in the bathroom.

“I’ll get you back,” he warned, trying to clean the pink line of sugar.

“You can try, Cartwright.” Her singsong voice faded as she wandered to the bathroom to assess the chaos caused by Eugene. 

He surveyed the room, noted the small pile of banners and balloons waiting to liven up the space and got back to work. 

*

“Is it straight?” He asked, standing on a slightly creaky chair with one end of the last banner in hand. Ella looked over from the other side of the room.

“Not remotely.”

“Maybe some suggestions then?”

“Your side needs to go up a bit.”

“Up? How?” He asked incredulously, arms fully stretched up above his head.

“How’re you so tall?” She muttered. “Nah, I’m joking. It needs to come down a bit,” she giggled. He moved the banner down a bit and she eyed the banner critically. “Little more.” He moved it again. “That’s it.” 

As he stepped down, the doorbell rang, sending Eugene wild. Clover ran to open the door to Louisa and Catherine. By the time Ho and Shirley arrived with Coe not far behind, as well as Lulu and Sofia, River could see how overwhelmed Ella was with the turnout.

“You ok?” He asked as she passed him to go to the kitchen. He got up to follow her.

“Yeah, just… I didn’t expect them to actually show up. I thought it would be just me and Clo dancing around the living room, eating an entire cake and crashing in front of the TV.”

“I don’t think we’re done yet,” he said knowingly.

“I think we probably are.” She smiled. The doorbell went again and Ella peered around the kitchen door to see who Clover was greeting. Jackson Lamb stood on her doorstep with an unwrapped gift.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.” 

“Barbie! Thank you! We’re having cake, are you coming in?”

“I’d prefer a whisky.” He muttered unhappily. Catherine moved up the sofa to make a space for him and nodded her approval that he’d turned up.

“No. Way.” Ella whispered, nudging River.

“Looks like there is something in his chest other than cigarette smoke and a swinging rock.”

“Who’d have thought it?” She wondered, reaching behind River for the whisky bottle. He passed her a glass and she poured a generous measure.

In the living room, Ho was having trouble keeping his eyes off Lulu and Sofia who were typically decked out in the full glam hair and nails befitting a 9 year old’s birthday party.

“Oh babe! You’re cracking open the good stuff?” Sofia cooed on seeing the whisky glass.

“You want a real drink?” Ella asked.

“Depends, how appropriate is it to get shitfaced at a kid’s birthday party?” Lulu asked.

“It isn’t appropriate, Lu.” Sofia chastised and cuddled up to the birthday girl in question, leaving a lipstick kiss on her forehead.

“I beg to differ.” Lamb muttered.

“If it means someone will dance and do karaoke with me then you’re allowed?” Clover suggested, holding up the small karaoke speaker and microphone she’d opened from Louisa and Shirley. 

Lulu held out her mug to Ella.

“Fill her up, kid. I’m about to break out my best Whitney,” she declared. 

“Cake first. Then you can get pissed.” Ella reasoned. She took the mug anyway and disappeared to the kitchen. From the doorway, lit cake in hand, she gestured for River to switch off the lights. Catherine got the hint first and led the Happy Birthday chorus. River watched as Ella approached Clover with the cake, the candlelight catching in both of their eyes. He pulled out his phone and took a batch of photos while trying to keep Eugene from jumping in to attack the cake. With the candles blown out, he swiftly took the cake from Ella who looked surprised, but grateful. With her hands free, she enveloped the girl into a hug, peppering kisses into her hair. “Happy birthday, my baby girl.”

“Muuuuum!”

“She’s not a baby anymore, El.” Sofia smiled. “She’s wise beyond her years, aren’t you my darling?”

“It’s her job to embarrass you,” Louisa told Clover who huffed in response.

“And at least she’s a cool mum. Mine is so cringe.” Shirley supplied.

“It’s a fine balance between cool and cringe, I expect.”

“It’s a tightrope.” Ella grimaced.

“You make an excellent acrobat.” Louisa laughed.

“Nah, I’m not having that unless I see physical proof that she can get her legs behind her head.” Ho chimed in.

“Gross, Ho.”

“You’ll never know what my legs can do, Roddy. It’ll have to stay in that limited imagination of yours.” Ella flicked his forehead.

“Ow! My imagination is far from limited, actually.”

“A real renaissance man.”

“Would the renaissance man care for some cake?”

“Go on then, Cole. Since you’re offering some sugar.”

“Now that’s cringe,” Ella pointed out as she left Shirley to mercilessly tease Ho. 

*

She was carefully cutting the cake into generous slices which Louisa and River were distributing throughout the room. Lulu and Clover had set up the speaker and were loudly taking it in turns to perform both the Whitney Houston and the Taylor Swift back catalogues.

“Do you think they take requests?” Louisa asked as Lulu strived for, and failed to hit a high note.

“Depends, how badly do you want your favourite song murdered?” Ella asked. “Personally, I wouldn’t risk it.”

“Great tip. That’s the last piece, by the way. My excuses for not watching the show have now run out, unless there’s anything else I can do?”

“Lou, you don’t have to stay, but no - nothing else to do other than watch terrible karaoke performed by a tone deaf child and an ageing sex worker. Enjoy.”

“Sad as it is to admit, watching a 9 year old kid having the time of her life is the best my weekend is going to get. Plus, this is an excellent cake.”

“I feel like you’re right on both counts there. Though actually, River succeeding in burglary is probably another highlight.”

“Who said I was on the rob?” He asked.

“You said you didn’t break in, but you must have dognapped? That is stealing, no matter how much charm you throw at it.”

“How else did you get the dog?” Louisa asked.

“Yeah River, exactly, how else did you get the dog?”

“I think you should probably just tell her, she looks like she’s about to fight you.” Louisa warned him with a shrug, taking a slice of cake on the way back to the living room. 

“It’s really not that big a deal,” he assured her.

“You don’t know the people I know. If any of his dickhead minions finds out -”

“His brother left the house unlocked.” Ella stopped still, a forkful of cake halfway to her mouth.

“What?”

“I got the address off Ho, went for a look around to see whether I could just, y'know, hop over the gate and take the dog, and his brother was there. He was asleep on the sofa - absolutely steaming drunk. I could see him through the window.”

“So you just let yourself in?”

“I tried the door, it opened. It’s really not my fault that Eugene just wandered over to me. He basically followed me to my car.” He shrugged.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I do have some skills, you know? It’s not just about good looks.” He teased.

“Who said anything about good looks? That bloody dog is just a softy.” She countered. He moved towards her, ignoring the question.

“Now you’re the one with icing,” his hand moved of its own accord, the pad of his thumb brushing icing from her bottom lip.

He felt her cool breath shudder over his hand. With the short distance between them, he caught the faint scent of sugar and vanilla on her breath, he could see every freckle dusting her nose and cheeks.

The two that were so close they’d blended into one heart shape between the outer corner of her eye and the top of her cheekbone, the three in a line which looked like they belonged in a wider constellation.

He wanted a closer look. He needed a closer look. The memory of Ella drunkenly pressing herself against him, her soft mouth against his, played on his mind.

“Ella, you're up!” Sofia’s voice carried through to the kitchen. His hand fell limply to his side. 

“Be right there,” she called back, standing perfectly still. 

“You were drunk,” he said as she finally went to move away, a light hand on her wrist. 

“Pardon?”

“Before, when I drove you home. You were too drunk to know what you were doing. I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you.”

“I knew what I was doing.” She murmured.

“You did?” he asked, unsure.

Ella nodded, though she was clearly wary of confessing anything, her expression was adamant.

“Yes. But I get why you didn’t want to kiss me back. Or don’t want to, whichever. I’ve made such a fuck up of everything, look at the state of me. Living in a fucking safe house, covered in bruises.” She said quietly. She shrugged, “least I’ve got Clo, eh? And the dog.” 

“Ella,” his hand kept her from leaving. “Is that what you think?” 

River's voice was low, filled with a restraint he didn't know he possessed, his gaze never leaving hers. "You think I don't want to kiss you because what?”

“I’m damaged goods, River,” she said, as if it were a totally obvious observation. He could practically hear her add the “duhhh” to the end of her sentence.

"Damaged goods," he echoed, his tone taking on a hint of disbelief. "Is that really what you see? What you think I see?"

River's hand on her wrist didn't loosen, his thumb gently brushed over her pulse point.

Ella forced a smile, an easy shake of the head.

"How can you not? It's fine, really.”

She pulled her wrist back from his grip and headed back to the party. He held back for a minute, he’d been certain that she hadn’t even remembered the kiss at all. 

That she’d been so drunk, half of the evening had been lost to gin. 

But she had remembered it, and that changed everything.

As he watched her go, he couldn't help thinking about the way she had spoken about herself – like she was broken, no longer wanted. The way she saw herself was so different from the way he saw her. 

He leaned into the doorframe between the kitchen and the party. Catherine and Lamb were deep in conversation, and she was actually smiling.

Shirley was fidgeting with her phone, half out of the door when Ella told her to go and have fun. She bolted with a haphazard wave. Ella had been dragged onto Clover’s makeshift dance floor and was spinning and twirling with the puppy in her arms and Clover holding one hand, her previous melancholy had been replaced by a big smile.

She looked wild and happy, and though he knew it wasn't entirely true, she put on a decent facade for Clover. 

“The timing for this is wank, Cartwright.” Louisa stood next to him, reading his mind. She followed his gaze to Ella.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“The good thing about that though,” she told him, “is that times change. All of this -” she gestured around the safe house, “the dogs outside, it will all come to an end. Her ex will rot in a prison cell, and one day, she’ll be ready.” She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

“And until then, the timing is wank.” He added.

“You got it.”

*

He had three missed calls from Coe. For a man who rarely spoke, River assumed something big must have happened. He tapped the desk impatiently waiting for the call to connect. In the room across the hall, Ella was pacing, also on the phone. He wasn’t sure to whom, but when Coe finally picked up, it confirmed to him that they weren’t waiting on the same call.

“She’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“He came, fuck knows how. He’s got her.”

“What about you?”

“Ugh,” He heard Coe spit on the ground before he returned to the call, “banged me up pretty good.”

“I'm on my way.”

Waiting the handful of seconds for Ella's call to finish was like waiting a lifetime.

“He’s got bail. Over the weekend, he’s out and my solicitor didn’t even know! Can you fucking believe that?” She looked furious, her hand balled tightly around her phone as she stalked back into their office.

“El, something -”

“The incompetence is off the charts,” she ranted, not noticing him with his keys in hand, waiting to leave.

“Ella, stop.” Her mouth clamped shut as she looked at him, frowning. “I know he’s out. He’s got Clover.”

“No -” Her face paled as the anger was replaced by sheer terror.

“I’m going now to get Coe, we’re going to find her and -”

“I’m coming too.” 

“The fuck you are. I’m getting Coe, you’re staying here with Shirley.”

“River! No, I need to come with you -” she argued, hustling him towards the door. He stopped, his body filling the doorway and blocking her path. She pushed against him but he held fast.

“Ella, you need to stay here,” her hands came up to his chest as she rained fairly useless and ineffectual punches onto his chest to try and make him move. He took hold of her wrists lightly.

“No, I can’t. I can’t stay here! Let me fucking go, River. Let me go!”

“C’mon, El, you can beat the shit out of me if you want,” Shirley said from behind River. “You need to let him go and get Clover.” Ella gave a final, furious push. River leaned down to look her in the eye.

“Ella, babe, I’m going to bring her back to you. I’m going to get her.” 

Her hands fell limply into his, her eyes filled with tears of betrayal and hurt. 

He brought a hand to her cheek, “I’ll be back soon.” He kissed her forehead and turned to run down the stairs, taking them two at a time. 

As the bottom door slammed, he faintly heard Ella’s heartbreaking wail of anguish.

He didn’t wait for Coe to shut the passenger door before he moved off, the car weaved in and out of traffic.

“You know where we’re going?” Coe asked, holding his ribs. 

River nodded. He hadn’t known as he’d left Slough House, but during his impromptu career change to common burglar, he had riffled through a stack of paperwork which all mentioned a storage yard in Eddie’s name. 

He hadn’t told Ella that’d he’d managed a decent look around the house while her brother-in-law slept only feet away from him. 

River had filled the information into the recesses of his mind, his eidetic memory only kicking in after Coe’s initial call.

“Ella’s fucking raging that I didn’t let her come,” he muttered as he swerved into oncoming traffic to go around a slow moving bus. The cars coming towards him braked sharply, horns blaring.

“She’s scared.”

“I know -”

“Of losing you.” Coe added. 

“Fuck,” River hit up at the roof of the car. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

*

They approached the storage unit as dusk fell. River’s heart raced as he and Coe approached the dimly lit building. Shadows stretched across the spaces between buildings. He could still hear Ella’s distraught cries in his ear, could still see the betrayal in her eyes as he left her behind. 

He scanned their surroundings, neither he nor Coe had a weapon. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. He knew had to put Ella to the back of his mind, he couldn’t afford to be distracted by fear or doubt. 

They reached the entrance to the storage unit and paused, his ears strained for any sound coming from within. The silence felt oppressive, he could hear only the sounds of their breathing. Coe pointed towards the first door they came to and gripped the handle. 

A faint noise broke the silence - a soft, shuffling coming from somewhere inside. River felt his body tense as Coe slowly turned the handle. Another shuffling sound came from within the unit, and then a low, gruff voice he recognised as Eddie’s muttered something unintelligible. 

River’s heart clenched, he knew he had to trust that Coe would get Clover out, he wanted to take care of Eddie himself. He wanted to remove him from Ella’s life completely. 

The door opened with a metallic click, revealing the dark interior. Dim light spilled into the unit and River let his eyes adjust. They cautiously stepped inside, avoiding crates and boxes, and scanned for any movement. 

Further into the unit, he could still hear Eddie. They moved forward more quickly, staying close to the walls of the unit. A light from deeper within crept towards them. Getting closer, River could see Clover huddled in a corner, visibly distressed. 

River’s heart tore at the sight of her, her school uniform covered with dirt and dust from the floor and the terror in her eyes. In front of her, Eddie paced back and forth.

“- your fucking mother? I’ve given her everything, angel. I’ve given you both everything.”

“Daddy -” Clover whimpered, it pained River to see her so scared. 

He knew it would never be the same, but he felt a brief sliver of how Ella must have felt over the last 9 years. He suddenly realised why she’d endured everything she had for so long, why she was so fixated on keeping Clover safe. 

He felt it himself, a gut-wrenching urge to scorch the earth as long as it meant Clover’s safety. 

As Eddie continued to rant, Clover looked into the shadows, her gaze landing firstly on him and then on Coe. He watched her carefully as her eyes widened with a mix of fear and hope. 

He held his breath, half expecting her to call out to him, but to her credit she stayed perfectly still and tried not to draw her dad’s attention. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and thumbs up.

She sighed with relief. As she did so, Eddie seemed to realise that her attention was elsewhere. River froze, his heart hammering in his chest. 

Eddie stopped in his tracks, the silence was deafening as he followed Clover’s eyeline towards River and Coe. Even in the dim light, they could see his eyes darken in rage.

“I might have known she’d send the fucking cavalry.” He growled, his voice low and menacing. “Couldn't do her own dirty work, eh? Hateful bitch.”

River and Coe stood firmly. Before River could respond, Coe answered.

“Give us the girl.” He warned steadily.

“My daughter? You dickheads think I’m going to let you walk out of here with my girl?” He scoffed. “Fuck right off!” He turned sharply and stalked towards them. “Didn’t take you long to cozy up to my fucking wife, did it?” He sneered at River.

River’s jaw clenched, his expression hardening.

“Leave Ella out of this,” he spat. “Let Clover go, she’s terrified.”

Eddie scoffed derisively, not impressed by River’s response. He looked over at Clover who watched them silently, fear writ large on her pale face.

“Angel, c’mere.” 

Clover hesitated, looking back and forth between Eddie and River. Her hostility towards her father was clear, but so was her fear of him. She was clearly scared of what he might do if she dared refuse him.

River saw her internal struggle, wanting to say something to reassure her that it would be ok but also not wanting to set Eddie off on a rampage.

Eddie’s patience wore thin, he slammed his fist on the nearest crate, making Clover flinch in fear.

“Come. Fucking. Here.” He barked loudly. River tensed, ready to intervene. He sensed Coe doing the same thing.

Clover visibly shook as her father’s anger escalated.

“It's ok, Clo.” River said softly, the nickname falling from his lips for the first time, as though he'd named her himself. He no longer cared about tiptoeing around Eddie, his only concern was getting Clover out quickly and safely. 

Eddie's face contorted with rage as he heard River use Clover's nickname. He looked stunned.

“The fuck did you just call her?” He growled. 

“Her name,” River said firmly. 

“River -” Clover pleaded, her voice wobbling. 

“It's ok, sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere.” He assured her. 

Eddie sneered at River's response, his hands balling into fists at his sides. 

“You've got some fucking nerve talking to my daughter like that. First my wife, then you take my kid?”

“I'm just trying to protect her. Take your anger out on me, not her.” 

Eddie scoffed at River's words. 

"You think you're some kind of hero, standing up to me like that? Trying to protect my kid?" he spat out. "She's my child, not yours. You don't get to tell me what to do with her."

“And what? You're going to treat her like you do Ella?”

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eddie snapped, his voice rising. "You think you know anything about me and my daughter?"

He took a step closer to River, his eyes narrowing further. River stood his ground, his jaw clenched tightly. In his periphery, he could see Coe moving cautiously towards Clover, his hand outstretched. 

"I mean, you've been beating Ella for years, it's only a matter of time before you move on to Clover.”

Eddie bristled at River's blunt words, a dangerous glint in his eye.

"Watch your fucking mouth," he warned. Eddie's focus shifted to Clover. He turned towards her, his eyes cold and calculating. 

He saw her reaching for Coe and his expression darkened further. 

In a burst of rage, he lashed out, grabbing Clover's arm roughly and yanking her closer to him. She squealed in terror, tears swimming in her eyes. 

River felt his chest tighten at the sound and, unable to stop himself, he lunged forward, aiming straight for Eddie with every ounce of strength he had.

Eddie dropped Clover's arm, grunting as he pivoted to meet River's charge. He raised his fists, ready to defend himself against the attack.

"Coe -"

"On it," Coe read River's mind and scooped Clover up and out of the way. He moved fast, quickly heading towards the exit with Clover in his arms.

“You've got nothing left, dickhead,” River said, unable to hide his smirk.

Eddie glared at River.

"You think you're tough, huh?" he sneered. "You don't know who you're messing with.” He reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out a gun. He held the gun steadily, aiming it at River.

"What do you have to say now, eh?"

River tensed up as he saw the gun in Eddie's hand, his heart pounding in his chest.

"You're really gonna use that, huh?" he asks, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "Go on then," he taunted, pressing his forehead onto the barrel of the gun.

Eddie's eyes narrowed as he heard River's derision.

"You asked for it," he growled, pressing the gun harder against River's forehead. 

The trigger clicked once under Eddie's finger and River twisted on the spot as the shot rang out, hitting a crate a few feet behind him.

Just missing its intended target, River took advantage of Eddie's momentary distraction and spun around, trying to gain the upper hand.

As he went to duck behind the next crate, another shot pinged, and this time he heard the unmistakable sound of the bullet tearing through flesh.

River cried out in pain as the bullet hit him, the impact jolting through his body. He stumbled and fell, clutching at his side. 

The pain was sharp and intense, and he could feel the warm, sticky blood staining his clothes and fingers. He tried to push himself up, but the impact of the bullet had left him weak and disoriented.

"Come on then, pretty boy," Eddie jeered.

"Over my dead body," a new voice called. River opened his mouth but no sound came out. Ella.

He felt his breathing shallow. His eyes widened in horror as he heard Ella's voice and saw her throw herself at Eddie.

"No," he gasped, trying to get up to stop her. As River struggled to get up, his vision going blurry from the pain and the loss of blood, he saw Ella standing defiantly in front of Eddie, shielding him with her body.

Eddie's anger seemed to reach new heights as he saw Ella standing up to him.

"You little bitch -" he started, ready to lunge at her.

Eddie's hand clenched tightly around the gun, an expression of pure rage on his face.

"You'll pay for this, all of you," he snarled. As blackness crept into his vision, the last thing River saw was Eddie raising the handle of the gun to Ella. 

just two dumb dumbs off to save a kiddo 😊

Happy reading!

Chapter 7 - coming soon!

[quitealotofsodapop]

Part 3 of: @justweirddino sending in funny and accurate asks.

As always I have put transcripts in the alt image descriptions.

The Gold and Silver twins probs have a massive list of enemies and vengances they want resolve, but they're so absent-minded that they frequently forget just why they dont like that person/what they did. They def find their own names among their "black book" of enemies and are just puzzled.

They haven't unlocked his friendship events yet. Gotta feed and talk to Macaque everyday like a Stardew Valley npc before he unloads his trauma.

MK is willing to use the Staff if it means conflict resolution. He will use it to threaten others to be nice.

Oh gosh, I love the idea of Huntsman having legit rizz, but it completely flies over Sandy's head. FIshman is sweet but damn he bad at responding to obvious romantic signs. X3

Wukong saw glowsticks become a thing and would spend ages trying to figure out How. Why stick glow when cracked/bended? Why no heat? Why did people scream when he tried drinking the yucky liquid inside at the discotech? He did't have his Staff handy for their introduction, so the second the Staff is no longer sealing DBK, Wukong tries cracking the Staff to see if it glows. He breaks his knee instead. Macaque laughed while MK was just puzzled Why.

The second Macaque is gone; Wukong turns into a mega-bachelor again. Hyper impulsive, binge-watching Monkey Cop, eating nothing but peaches and takeout. The second Mac gets back from the moon, its like walking into a house after a frat party. He def yells at Wukong to clean up his mess.

Nudity is canon. Wukong busted out the furnace naked cus it burned his clothes off.

DEFINETELY. Wukong is gotdang short already (apparently less than 1.3m/4.26 ft in the book), and Macaque being just a little taller would get so on his nerves! XD Even if both monkeys (unglamoured) reach about the height of a teenager, Wukong is def wearing lifted shoes. Macaque taunts him about it endlessly.

Oh gosh, I have an idea for TMKATI-au in Chapter 3; where Pigsy and Tang are "whisper-arguing" in the kitchen while Shadowpeach are in the restaurant sheltering from the rain.

Pigsy: "I'm not about to harbor a pair of shady demons just cus they look pathetic in the rain!" Tang, the one who brought them there: "Aww, c'mon Piggy!" *whispers* "They're having a kid and it looks like they got kicked out or something..." Pigsy: *annoyed snort* Macaque, hearing the convo cus ears: "...Wukong do you honestly believe this place is safe?" Wukong: "Uh yeah - I order from here all the time!" Macaque: *judgemental glare* Wukong, laughes nervously: "Haha...Ok. I'm not 100% sure. Honestly I was thinking about how we're gonna get some food... You're in a... vunerable condition and I want to make sure we're at atleast fed and warm before deciding anything major. You know... future-wise." Macaque: *sighs tiredly* Pigsy & Tang, eavesdropping via kitchen counter: *looks at one another* Tang: *gives puppy-dog eyes* Pigsy, conflicted growling: "Grr... OK FINE! They can stay for some dinner and maybe crash on the futon for a bit. But once the rain clears off, I'm kicking them out!"

(Pigsy procedes to not kick them out, and instead over the course of the late-evening meal decides to hire Wukong/let the two monkeys stay in the empty top floor of the building. He's bad at saying no to Tang and bad at turning away sad-looking rain-soaked monkeys.)

I always love these ask-ins, even if I ramble a little off-topic with the ideas they gave me! As always ty @justweirddino !

I put the slightly rauchier ones under read more.

This one is 100% a line Tang has said aloud and in front of polite company without batting an eye. He has no shame.

Macaque and Wukong too. Gotta make sure anyone within striking distance knows that you're both taken. By eachother. Macaque says it to tease, Wukong says it as a warning.

And finally, an ask @justweirddino actually messaged me about ahead of time due to it being about a rather... spicy topic revovling around the immortal monkeys not understanding modern slang terms. Had to put it in two screenshot to fit.

XD

Nezha has most modern slang downloaded into his brain by the time he gets to earth. Not to use, but to decipher.

Wukong is def the person to remember a random detail from a movie trailer from years ago and take what the trailer says at face value. Also the thought of him randomly declaring that a movie mom is a MILF, serious-faced as the others look at him like he grew three heads (again), is sending me XD

[well-look-at-this]

Contending with You. II

a/n. bro... writing this was like trying to pry something out of a dog's mouth man... NO BETA RAHHHH!! I finished this and immediately died on the couch w/o posting it major L. anyway here's the 3 short kings and a dog edition (i did NOT notice i put all the shawtys together until i was alr deep 😭 Lilia's was almost so long just because he is so old lmao CHAPTER 7 SPOILERS GUYS FOR DIASOMNIA

Part I: Idia, Azul, Ruggie, Cater

Includes: Riddle, Epel, Jack, Lilia

Thinking about Epel and pride that bleeds. About growing up happy and loved and never feeling wrong. Thinking about when he started school in another town and it started. You look like a girl. Shouting and bruised knuckles. Screaming at a brick wall. Thinking about how it only would get worse as he got older, how he couldn’t grow out of it. Thinking about living in a body that stops feeling like you but just won’t change. About living in people’s assumptions and never being heard. Thinking about being forced to play the role anyways, because you weren’t strong enough. Because he’s never been strong enough to be allowed to be himself. Always told what you are but it’s never right. Thinking about Epel Felmier, the wolf born in the skin of a lamb. 

Thinking about Riddle and hunger. About being the smallest thing in a big perfect house. Thinking about growing up in a conditional and surgical world. Everything done to the T and if not then you’ve failed completely. Plain planned meals in a soft small body. Hungry, but you can’t exceed your planned caloric intake. Watching other children laugh across the street. Hungry, but you have to study, you can’t be irresponsible… you’re five. But it’s not like Riddle knows what he’s feeling, it wasn’t part of the curriculum. Secret friends and a whole tart, feeling full for the first time–being punished for it. You can’t see your friends anymore. Starving. Going to school and becoming part of a place with eight hundred and ten rules. Feels like home. Thinking of tyranny, of a love like your mother; of doing what’s best for them. They start to shake around you, you’ve finished your favorite tart and received another set of As so why are you hungry. Thinking about Riddle trying to feed monsters that will never be satisfied. Thinking about Riddle Rosehearts and a hunger that’s eating him alive.

Thinking about Jack and faith. Admiration and goals; the expectation and excitement of meeting your idol. But no one ever told Jack that you shouldn’t meet your heroes. Meeting Leona, who doesn’t try and certainly doesn’t play fair. Thinking about someone raised in a pack with values and a place for everyone thrown out in the savannah. They should be a team, so why is everyone eating each other alive? Thinking about being thrust into a place where you have to prove your worth to not be tossed aside. But everything you do and know is wrong here, nothing you do could ever make you fit in. Thinking about being threatened in your own dorm. Being so on edge you betray “your” own pack for another. Thinking about living with the aftermath, the whole savannah on his back. They could’ve won if not for you, they want to make sure you won’t be a problem next time. Thinking about Jack Howl who knows he can only end up a martyr. 

Thinking about Lilia and all his time. A feral kid with no birthday, who finds unexpected family only to lose them too soon. Missing and dead, with an egg in his arms that he’s not good enough to see but won’t hatch for years. Thinking about decades scouring the world in the hope he can find his missing friend. Thinking about every time he mused about “what Malleanor and Levan would think of this”. How many times would he catch himself, reminding himself one is dead, the other is missing, left only with their slowly dying son he can’t seem to save. Thinking about the general who hates humans and everything they’ve stolen but can’t help but appreciate them in his years among them. Thinking about the Lilia who cries holding Malleus and won’t let go despite what the council says. Who realizes Malleanor was right and he’s just so full of love. Thinking of Lilia and a lifetime of being so lesser you believe it. Despite raising a boy you can’t say he’s your son, because he could never replace the people he sees in their face, he doesn’t deserve it and he’s vile for even entertaining the thought. Thinking about finding the son of the man who destroyed your family and country, and raising him as your own. About never treating him as anything less than yours but still not allowing yourself to think of yourself as his father. That the boy can never really be yours, even when he is, Seven’s he is. Thinking about thinking yourself is so inconsequential that there’s no gravity to you leaving with no warning. Thinking about Lilia Vanrouge, the fae who couldn’t realize he was a father.

[thebreakfastgenie]

The thing that gets to me about memes and jokes about politics/politicians is that, even if a person makes them to mock or deride a politician and their policies, that politician still has an audience of followers online who will read the joke differently, regardless of the op's intent. Like it greatly angered me to see people in the Star Trek fandom of all things use "transgender operations" as joke fodder instead of realizing it wasn't merely an unhinged phrase--and it is to those of us who aren't a part of the in-group--but a specific message to a follower base that is fearful of/hates trans people, immigrants, and those who have been or are currently incarcerated (to say nothing of what it means to link all 3 together, as in, to be trans is to be foreign to what is natural/native to the country, to be either is to be illegal, the long and highly racist legacy of the intruder who disrupts a society they do not belong to, etc.). Like that's what I can't stand about the desire to laugh at everything or to pass jokes off as harmless fun. Satire, jokes, and memes are tools of communication in this era and they become doubly important with politics attached to them. Trying to find humor in something so cruel just desensitizes people to what the actual message is while parroting it around further in a public forum, so it only gains a wider audience without any meaningful criticism and refutation attached to it. And now I have to see so many damn opinions about the Dem coalition failing or whatever when it's just plain anti-intellectualism, apathy, and disinformation that got us here, or to put it plainly: "Head empty. No thoughts. Just vibes." That meme has set some people back so far it's depressing.

(Sorry to vent in your inbox but this topic just makes me want to scream. I love your blog and seeing your sane political posts <3)

Yeah I was really upset to see memes about that phrase and the "eating cats and dogs" one in Star Trek meme groups, especially because I know the people making them don't support the message behind those phrases, they're just not thinking about it.

I think there is a very real strategy to laughing at fascists and making them look absurd, but it's really easy to normalize them instead, or make people associate them with laughter and entertainment and inadvertently build a subconscious positive association (as I've said before I think this explains a lot of Trump's appeal to low-propensity, low-information voters, that no one else has thus far been able to replicate). And some things shouldn't be funny, at least in public. Trump benefits from people not taking anything seriously, which is what constant irony-poisoned meming conditions the brain to do. You said it very well:

Satire, jokes, and memes are tools of communication in this era and they become doubly important with politics attached to them.

I don't think anyone was prepared for how the internet and social media affect this, either, because the speed and volume of communication is unprecedented.

I feel like such a curmudgeon with my "always meme responsibly" message but it matters!

Thanks for the message, this part is really good and I want to highlight it:

And now I have to see so many damn opinions about the Dem coalition failing or whatever when it's just plain anti-intellectualism, apathy, and disinformation that got us here, or to put it plainly: "Head empty. No thoughts. Just vibes." That meme has set some people back so far it's depressing.

[raviposting]

Nate is really one of the most interesting characters to me, because his character begs the question: what happens when your life gets better but you’re still not happy? 

Because we see how Nate is in the beginning. We root for him and we love the attention that he gets and how he gets his time to shine. Ted’s methods clearly work for a lot of the characters, it has its merit, and Nate (at first) is no exception. He’s promoted to being a coach, he’s getting attention, the team is also improving so they’re being kinder and everything is better now, right? 

Except in season 2 (and 3!) we see the cracks - in Nate, but for all the coaches, really, because ironically the coaches who are mentoring the players and telling them to believe are also the ones we see struggling with that mentality the most. Beard’s one of Ted’s strongest supporters, his right-hand man, but we see in Beard’s episode how deep his depression and self-hatred run. Roy isn’t exactly screaming Ted’s methods from the rooftops, but we see how he slowly accepts it and appreciates it, and how it does help him - but he struggles with finding his purpose and feeling wanted and needed, and it shines in quitting things early and never getting proper closure in things he really loved, with him constantly wondering if he ever really made the best choice (his team, his job, his relationship with Keeley). Ted struggles to express these negative emotions and it spirals quickly, especially in season 2. 

And Nate? Nate watches as his life objectively gets better, but struggles because his anger and resentment don’t go away. He gets the attention from Ted but (even though it’s not the intention!) feels as if Ted drops him the second things improve. He gets a better job but his father will never say he’s proud. He tries to exude confidence but Jade (who’s most likely seen him for a while since it’s his favorite restaurant) immediately sees through through his persona and Doesn’t Care and Nate is so thrown off by it. He keeps looking for that validation through other people and we see that clear frustration because everything is better on paper so then why are the bad feelings still there? With every win, with every improvement, he gets angrier and more frustrated and then it spirals into him leaving for West Ham and Rupert. With Rupert, Nate leans in on hey, nobody loved me at my lowest and nobody loved me at my best, so maybe I’ll try being my worst. 

And god, I LOVE that even though fans thought he’d fail and that this would humble him into a redemption, he hasn’t. He tries to go with Rupert and get that validation from him and we see how much he struggles with that, because now he’s leaning in at what Rupert wants and we see how much he hates that, but Nate’s also at a point where Rupert’s attention is clearly conditional, he’s still not getting that fatherly validation, and he knows that and that’s where we see him finally start to come into his true self. Jade finally softens because she sees Nate holding strong to his opinion on Taste of Athens and admitting he’s putting on an act, he’s being honest and himself for the first time in those scenes. He tries to cultivate a relationship with the other employees and even if the Diamond Dogs ripoff didn’t work? They still invited him to drinks this episode! He sees Rupert for who he is and he goes back to Jade, and he wants so, so much to apologize to Ted for everything. 

Nate’s moved from a positive environment to this conditional one and the narrative could have easily went “Nate has crashed and burned and now realizes what he messed up” but instead it allowed Nate to figure out who he is and who he wants to be, by himself. He’s still growing and learning, of course, but he’s well on his way, and I think it’s just such a cool way to show that what’s helpful for some people can be incredibly detrimental for others if it doesn’t target what they need and that there’s so many avenues for a person to grow and improve themselves. 

[sh1mmer-add1ct]

Aubrie hummed softly as she set down the last of the abundance of jack-o'-lanterns on the porch. She'd been hesitant to even step past the gate in front of the house, but ultimately followed Sam, helping him set all the carved up pumpkins in front of the house despite the fact the spirit could've done it very easily and essentially instantly on his own.

The poor brown haired little girl hadn't yet seemed to realize that Sam wasn't just another little kid out trick or treating, and that he was actually essentially the spirit of Halloween. Not that it would've really made much of a difference to her. She hopped down the stairs that lead up to the porch, picking up the sack of candy she'd gathered..well..she tried to pick it up anyways, but it seemed like it was about as heavy as she was, so she dragged across the ground instead.

The burlap masked spirit motioned for the girl to sit and wait..so she sat with her back against the black metal gate, watching as he walked back up to the house, and quite literally disappeared inside when the door was opened. The jack-o'-lanterns had meant to be a distraction. Aubrie silently hoped the old man wouldn't notice her sitting there, she wasn't particularly actually trying to hide...but somehow he didn't notice her. The sound of barking could be heard from inside, from the small black and white dog, causing the man to quickly stop only seconds away from beginning to smash the poor pumpkins.

When the door finally shut again, Aubrie relaxed a bit, sitting quietly, digging through her bag of candy, blissfully unaware of what was going on inside the house...relatively unaware at least. She wasn't stupid, she'd heard the screams and pleads for help from the kids at the rock quarry, the sound of flesh ripping and bones breaking...so she had a vague idea of what was going on inside.

Unfortunately, she was relatively unbothered by it due to being desensitized. Being around people..literally being murdered in front of her face was something she got used to, to her, it was normal, her brain was conditioned to not be bothered by it anymore.

----

After what felt like forever, though it was probably only 5-10 minutes, the front door of the creepy house opened again. Aubrie had started to get anxious, scared something had happened to the spirit, but was relieved when Sam appeared, walking down the porch steps.

Unfortunately, the relief only lasted a few moments until she noticed the burlap was torn. Abandoning her bag of candy, she rushed over, nearly stumbling over her own feet. In an instant her arms were around him, the worry practically coming off of her in waves.

When she eventually let go, she rushed back over to her bag of candy. Her gaze shifted from the burlap bag, to Sam, and back a few times, hesitating. Without hesitating any further she dumped out the contents of her bag, the colorful wrappers around the candy glimmering in the moonlight as they scattered across the ground. By that point Sam was already at her side, so she held out the bag, her eyebrows furrowed a bit. It didn't have the buttons or the detailing..but she hoped it'd suffice. Her eyes were wide, but relaxed a bit when he took the bag.

The little brown haired girl turned around, assuming he wouldn't want her to watch, her gaze fixed on the grass as if it was the most interesting thing in existence. After a few moments the feeling of a gentle nudge made her jump a bit, squeaking softly. Aubrie turned back around, unable to hide the little smile that formed on her face when she realized he'd put the mask on.

The two walked off, at this point she was exhausted, paying no mind to the screaming behind her. She figured it was just some other little kid

---

Aubrie stared at the front door, she was cold and tired, but she didn't want him to leave yet...dhe didn't have any friends her age really, other than George, the little Mason boy that she may or may not have had a tiny crush on. A little huff escaped her lips, knocking on the front door hoping her mom—well..Cathy, would be the one to open the door rather than Mia, knowing the seventeen-year old would more likely than not be drunk.

Thankfully, her silent little prayers were answered and the tall blonde woman opened the door, however her gaze fell on the little boy rather than Aubrie. Her eyebrow raised a bit, but didn't bother questioning it, she was too tired to anyways.

Aubrie hesitated, hopping down the stairs quickly, wrapping her arms around the little boy again, a pout forming on her lips. She would've stayed like that longer, but Cathy's voice told her otherwise

"Aubrie, come on! It's cold and I can tell you're exhausted!"

The girl huffed again, before pulling away, giving a pathetic little wave before going back up the stairs. She'd turned to say bye, but the little boy was already gone.