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befuddled-calico-whump · 1 month ago

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Total $hit$how: Little White Squares

in which Benji discovers that actually, it is that deep

cw: aftermath of whump, referenced torture, threats

previous // Masterlist // next

×~×~×

Lying was something Benji was supposed to be good at. How many times has he taken to the stage, lied to an audience about who he was and what sort of world he lived in? How many times had he skillfully distracted and misled to snag a watch, a wallet, a badge. To let his cohorts sneak past a guard, to save his own neck when he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar?

He was still alive today because of all his lies, but no matter how scary they'd been in the past, today's prospects were terrifying. Benji had never seen Vic in action and he really didn't want to. Sahota was scary enough, and Sahota actually seemed like a decent guy under the gruff, icy surface. Meanwhile, the more Benji learned about Vic, the more it seemed he was just layer after layer of callous violence. He'd never seen Vic in action, but Vic had trained Sahota. Vic had been doing this for longer than Sahota. And Vic could sit relaxed with a smile on his face while masked goons tortured his second in command.

Lying to Vic felt like cracking an apocalyptic seal. One wrong move, and his life was over. All their lives, really.

“Don't say anything unless he asks,” Kaius had instructed the others in the car. “The less he knows, the better. Don't over-explain, and don't offer details.”

Benji knew that much, but it helped to know someone else was experienced in dancing around the truth.

The four of them decided not to act sneaky while making their entrance. If Vic caught them, they'd be sorta honest about it; we met Finley. We came back anyway. Fortunately for Benji’s nerves, they didn't encounter anyone on the way in, making it all the way to the kitchen without an incident. It had still been pitch black outside when they came in, probably early enough that everyone at the compound was still asleep. Hopefully. What if he didn't have to lie at all? What if they got away with it?

He muffled a yawn with his palm as Joy flipped on the kitchen lights. Man, he was tired, and there was no end in sight. His anxiety would probably keep him awake throughout the day, but tonight they'd have to bounce again, maybe drive all night to put enough distance between them and Vic. Would he ever sleep again? And if he did, where would he sleep again? He'd been gone for nearly two months when Vic gave him this offer, no way was his old crew still at the usual hideout if they were still together at all. Maybe he could crash at Joy's place. Or Kaius's. They had to have apartments or something, right?

It was a problem he didn't have the luxury of having just yet, but it was easier to think about a crowded crew sleepover than worry about Vic.

Benji filled the electric kettle with water as Jericho fished out the instant oats, picturing the four of them—or five, or maybe even six—crammed in some studio apartment. He hoped they could all stay together, just for a little while. Hang out and be a group without Vic hovering over them. If they got into late night gossiping and fell asleep in a heap on the floor, would Sahota join them? If he didn't have to look over his shoulder for Vic’s approval? If he didn't have to worry about the next mission?

He could only hope. If they got that lucky, Benji would put his shitty cooking skills to the test and make Sahota his chana dal. If he couldn't get him to crack a smile at the meal itself, maybe he could get him laughing at how much of a failure his attempt would be.

“Shit, someone's coming,” Joy whispered, pulling the plug on his fantasy, and Benji nearly dropped his plastic bowl of oats. Okay. Deep breath. Lights down, curtain up, five, six, seven, eight.

“Have a nice trip?” Vic’s shadow filled the kitchen entrance, and Benji tried to hide a grimace as he stepped inside, Harbor in tow.

Damnit, that jig was up.

“We made it back in one piece,” Jericho replied. Atta boy, keep it vague. It didn't matter if Vic knew; it would all be okay. They were back, and he saw that they were back. That was what mattered. That was what would clear their getaway.

“I see.” Their handler entered the kitchen, slow and easy. Nothing in his voice hinted towards danger, but the way he moved from cupboard to cupboard as he prepared a pot of black coffee reminded Benji of some big predatory animal, stalking through the shadows. Fluid, effortless, deadly.

He really didn't want to see Vic in action.

“The three of you can move quietly when you need to,” Vic commented as he filled the beat-up pot with water and got it brewing. “I might've never known you were gone if it wasn't for Harbor.” His hand fell onto the other man's shoulder, and Harbor’s gaze dropped, the corner of his mouth twisting downwards. Joy's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

“I wasn't sure we had it in us myself,” Benji cut in before anyone else could speak. Okay, so Harbor had gone right to Vic, but hadn't they already assumed that?

“I hope you'll apply the same cunning on the mission.”

“I hope so too,” Joy said. “Wouldn't wanna get caught.”

Benji had to fight the urge to shoot her a look. Really? All they had to do was say as little as possible, don't get snarky with it.

“Of course.” The sliver of a grin pulled at Vic’s mouth.

He knew. He had to know what Finley would tell them if they met her, he knew. Vic filled his coffee cup, face impassive, somehow looking sinister despite the mundanity of the action.

“Once you're finished eating, I'll see everyone in the briefing room. It's time to plan the execution.”

Execution, huh? Benji swallowed hard as Vic disappeared down the hall. Today already reeked of burning failure, but was that reality talking? Or just his fear?

Vic knew they'd snuck out, he knew Finley's secret message, but he didn't know they were gonna run. Not tonight. They still had plenty of chance left.

“Are you sure you want to tell Harbor?” Joy whispered as they cleaned up breakfast.

“Look, we can wait until it's time to leave. I'll find him once you all are in the truck.”

“That still gives him time to tell Vic.”

“He deserves a chance to run.”

“Do you really think he'll take it?”

Jericho didn't reply, stacking the bowls on the drying rack. “I don't know.”

As if seeking a third opinion, both their eyes landed on Benji, and he shrugged. He didn't think Harbor wanted to leave. But if he tried to put himself in Harbor's place, imagining staying here forever at Vic’s side, even if Vic liked him… it made him feel nauseous. Was Harbor really all that different from Sahota? Even if he did want to be here, even if he thought he was in love with Vic or some shit, how long would it be before he was the one being beaten on camera?

“Jer’s right,” Benji said. “He should have the chance.” Even if he didn't like Harbor, even if he didn't trust him, he trusted Vic a whole lot less. Things might be fine and dandy for him now, but if everyone else took off, Vic would be angry. Benji did not want to picture Vic getting angry

The four of them stepped into the hall, turning towards the briefing room. Benji's arm was practically bumping into Jericho as he walked. Joy wasn't too far from his other side, and even Kaius seemed to be sticking closer than usual. It just felt safer to move in a group, even though today was more about keeping secrets than fighting monsters.

Fuck, if Vic caught them tonight, would they have to fight him? Was it the only way? The thought got his stomach twisting all over again. Every step forward felt like a mistake, like Vic was hiding around the next corner, waiting to trip them, catch them, gun them down. Fortunately, nothing so ridiculous happened on the way to the room. Unfortunately, he knew their handler would still be waiting for them on the other side of that door.

Vic was already in his seat when they stepped inside, what looked like a floorplan spread out in front of him.

“Take your seats,” he said without looking up. Harbor was sitting next to him, slouching in his chair, not really looking at any of the papers. If Vic was the villain, Harbor was stepping into the role of cronie without much hesitation. The LeFou to Vic’s Gaston, the Delancy to his Weasel. Maybe Joy was right. Maybe he wouldn't take the chance they'd offer, staying by his master's side right til the end. He hoped Harbor could at least be happy in his mistakes, but he definitely didn't look happy right now.

Benji took a seat between Joy and Kaius. There was a little square of white in front of each empty chair, too shiny to be note-taking paper. Maybe it was a mini floorplan or something? A map of the building? Benji ran a finger along the square in front of him. Weird. Harbor didn't have one at his place, but maybe he'd already pocketed it.

Before he could pick it up and get a good look, the door opened again.

Sahota.

He looked awful. His skin was almost gray in the harsh lighting, the bruises on his face dappled with a sickly yellow. There were bruises on his neck too, ringing around the front of his throat. Like he'd been choked.

Benji frowned, trying to remember if they'd been there yesterday. Last night was a blur, and it was enough of a shock to see Sahota so beat up. Courtesy of Harbor, Jericho said, but Vic had been there too, not stopping it, maybe even encouraging it.

“Sahota..?” Joy said beside him, concern plain on her face. Their trainer ignored her, walking past them without a word to stand behind Vic. Arms folded, head bowed like he could hide all the ways he'd been hurt.

Vic didn't acknowledge his arrival. He cleared his throat. “As I hope you know, we're set to move in two days,” he began. “Mr. Davis’s traps came through, and I was able to get a detailed layout of the security cameras throughout the building. I've marked the map accordingly.”

Benji traced circles on the back of the white paper, eyes on Sahota. Based on Joy's reaction, those bruises were new. Not from his capture, not from the fake interrogations. Were they from Harbor? From Vic? He wanted to believe it was just a sparring match gone wrong, but he couldn't see any marks on Harbor, just… something in his eyes as they darted back to glance at Sahota, then back down to the floor, then back again, like he was trying to make sense of something.

The only one who didn't seem surprised at all was Vic.

“You'll all get a chance to study an in-depth layout before stepping off,” their handler continued. “Plan A is to scramble the security feeds and give them a false image. But even if that's achieved, do your best to stay in the blind spots.”

He wished Sahota would look up. He just wanted… he wanted him to see that they all cared, that they all saw it. He didn't know what happened, whether it was a fight or bedroom play that went too far, but it was too far. He couldn't help but be struck by how much Sahota had changed in these last weeks. He'd gone from a soldier, an unshakeable, unflinching statue, to a shadow.

He'd come with them, wouldn't he? Whatever loyalty he had with Vic, he couldn't stay, right?

Vic was still talking, but Benji could hardly hear him. The paper was in his hands now, smooth under his fingertips as he looked from Vic to Sahota.

Sahota had to come with them. He had the sinking feeling that as things went more and more wrong, Vic would hurt him again. And how much more could he take? How much had he been taking all the years he'd worked with Vic?

Idly, Benji flipped over the paper, gaze passing over it, then snapping back.

What the..?

He stared blankly at it, Vic’s instructions fading to a buzz in his ears. It was a photograph. A picture of a kitchen in someone's house, lit up weird like it was taken from outside the window. A woman stood at the stove, an older man at the table, frozen mid-laugh, his head tipped towards another man, much younger. He looked just like Joy.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kaius turning over his own photograph. Benji’s mouth was dry as he stared at it, saw the little girl tucked in bed, the woman sat beside her with a book on her lap. Bedtime stories.

That was… that was Jericho's kid. He'd seen the photo in his wallet. What the fuck?

Vic was still briefing away, seemingly not noticing their discovery. But how could he not? He'd been the one to put them there, who else would it be? He wanted them to see these, but he kept on fucking talking.

“...and if you can bypass the first floor, that will avoid most of the security measures they have in place. The Reality Cage is on floor eight, top of the building. A full scale isn't something I'd recommend, but you can probably make it to the fourth floor—”

“What the fuck is this?” Joy cut him off, a third photograph pinched tight between her fingers. A woman at a desk, Benji saw, almost identical to Kaius. As if seeking to compare them, his head whipped to the side. Kaius's eyes were locked on Joy's photograph, wider than Benji had ever seen them.

“Aadya… how—?”

“Sit down,” Vic said, ignoring the outburst. “This is probably the most important briefing I've given to date. You'll want to pay attention.”

Joy fell into her chair, eyes landing on the picture in front of Benji. She snatched it up, jaw working as she took it in. Across from her, Jericho's face was ashen, his gaze locked on the photograph of his wife and daughter. And in front of him…

It took Benji a second to recognize her. It had been years since he'd seen her, years since they'd spoken, years since she'd abandoned their little ring of thieves, but there she was, poolside, caught up in a phone call. Her auburn hair was pulled into a messy braid, the easy, cocky smile she always wore when making a deal plastered on her face.

Anya. It has been so long… How did he find her when even Benji couldn't? How did he even know about her? He fell onto the table, catching himself hard on his elbows, hands wrapping around each other and squeezing hard.

Why were they here? How and why and…

He knew why. Of course he knew why. It was a threat. An oh wouldn't it be a shame if something happened to them? Around him, the others seemed to be reaching the same conclusion.

“You can't—”

“You son of a bitch. They're civilians, they don't have anything—”

“Shut up.”

Joy's jaw ground to a halt, rage still plain on her face as Vic leaned forward in his chair. He wasn't smiling, wasn't mad, but there was something smug in his expression.

“I can see the mission will be on hold until some things are addressed, so I encourage you to use your brains for a moment,” he said. “I know things I shouldn't and have resources you don't know about. What am I willing to do to ensure mission completion? You don't know that either, but you should assume the worst.”

He said it like he was going over potential routes to take on the way to the Elysium building. Casual, flippant. He would hurt them, wouldn't he? If they didn't follow orders? If they ran? The thought hit him like a meteorite, ashes sinking into the pit of his stomach.

Could they run? Vic’s threats couldn’t reach them if they couldn't hear him talk, but he was right, they didn't know how far he would go. Benji still hated Anya for leaving, but he couldn't let Vic kill her.

“My cards are on the table,” Vic said, turning his attention back to the floorplans. “Your move.”

“You can't… it doesn't need to be like this,” Jericho said in a strained voice. “You know… you know the mission will still be carried out. With or without us. We aren't needed.”

“I'm not about to let a crackpot and her merry band of criminals jack this one up,” Vic said, eyes fixing on him. “The mission was trusted to me first. I don't fail the tasks I'm given.”

“So this is about your fucking pride?” Joy snapped. “We know you're working with government agencies, if they knew—”

“Few lives for a few million,” Vic cut her off. “I think the boys will let this one slide.”

“You can't—”

“You're talking like I've already killed them, Miss Cavan.” Vic chuckled. “They're all fine. Alive and well, for now. It's up to you whether or not they stay that way. Now.” He got to his feet, pushing the blueprint he'd been studying to the center of the table. “Do yourselves a favor and study the blind spots.”

“Does it matter if we're gonna get caught anyway?” Joy said through gritted teeth.

“It matters if you're going to make it to the eighth floor,” Vic replied coolly, not bothering to deny it. “Next time, I hope you think twice before you disobey a direct order.”

He left, Sahota beside him, Harbor trailing behind them both like a dog with its tail between its legs.

Benji hoped he felt guilty. He didn't have a photograph, didn't have anyone at stake here. He was willing to sell them out and willing to put their families at risk. They shouldn't have come back for him. They shouldn't have come back at all.

But if they hadn't, would anyone be safe? Would Jericho get to his family before Vic could? There was really nothing they could do but obey. Break into Elysium, risk the guards, get carted away to prison despite everything they'd done to earn their escape. Fuck.

He buried his face in his hands. Fuck, it was hopeless. Maybe they could still run, after they broke the Reality Cage? They'd be wanted criminals, but they could run, it wasn't legal for the cops to threaten innocent people to bring them in, was it? And once the deed was done, Vic's mission would be accomplished. He'd have his destruction and he'd have his people to blame. It was the only way. He wouldn't go to prison, the local jail was bad enough, he couldn't—

“Benji.” Jericho's hand was rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, and he suddenly realized how quickly he was breathing.

“It's okay, it's okay. Breathe in for me, alright?”

He didn't even have enough air in his lungs to answer. Benji forced himself to inhale, shuddering and deep. He felt like he was on the verge of sobbing, his chest tight, his head hot and fuzzy.

“What do we do?” he managed to choke out. How was Jericho being so calm? It was his kid in the photo, a kid. When his eyes managed to focus, he could see the bigger man’s eyes were shining, his face calm only in the way water was calm before a storm. Joy was still fuming beside him, Kaius quiet and rigid.

“We won't let this happen,” Jericho said, the tremor in his voice betraying his expression.

Joy's eyes fixed on him, her gaze burning, frame shifting as her leg bounced under the table. “We have to get him back,” she said. “We can't run, we shouldn't fight him… fuck, what do we have?”

“Maybe we can find whoever hired him?” Benji said, but even as he said it it sounded stupid.

“We don't have time. Not when he has…” She stopped short, grimacing. “Jer, that's my family— your family. Even if we do everything he fucking asks, how can we know..?”

“We need to turn the tables on him,” Kaius said, speaking for the first time. “He’s holding us at gunpoint. We need to find out own weapons.”

“That just turns it into a standoff.”

“Better than being held hostage.”

Benji couldn't focus on their words as Kaius and Joy fired back and forth. At least they had ideas, he was just frozen by fear, practically resigned to this fate, uncertain in all directions.

Jericho's hand fell onto his shoulder, warm and reassuring as it could be, given the circumstances.

“We'll figure something out.”

“Like what?” Joy had taken to pacing back and forth, Kaius biting at his thumbnail as he stared down Vic's personalized threats.

Like what? his thoughts echoed as he looked up at Jericho, the tiniest bit of hope zipping through him when he saw the resolve on the man's face.

“Vic's computer,” Jericho said, dropping his voice to a near-whisper. “Maybe it's a long shot, but if there's anything in this place we can use against him, it has to be there.”

Kaius's frown deepened. “Do you really think he'd keep something incriminating on hand?”

“More incriminating than holding a bunch of civilians hostage?” Joy muttered.

“It's our best chance,” Jericho said with an exhale. “And Harbor…”

“Harbor?”

His mouth tightened. “Harbor saw something. It was like his implant was trying to point him somewhere. There were a bunch of weird files, and… I don't know, it's the best I can come up with.”

“Then it's what we need to try,” Joy said, nodding. “Tonight?”

“It's the only time we have left.”

It was, wasn't it? They couldn't run. Their only real bid was to meet Vic on the battlefield he'd made.

For all of their sakes, Benji hoped it would be enough.

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me ,

@pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday ,

@kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes , @clickerflight ,

@sodacreampuff , @starfields08000 , @neverthelass , @melpomenelamusa , @what-if-i-just-did

#total$hit$how #benji gets to be cute and imagine hanging out as a big team 🥰🥰 popcorn and movie nights don't worry about it #fic #writing #angst #calico writes

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blazinghotfoggynights · 3 months ago

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Crazy things you'd like to see happen in season 8 or (if ABC is so kind enough to greenlight it) season 9.

I'll start:

1- Eddie stops being straight and the priest stops being celibate. Together.

2- Buck has to watch Eddie slowly venture out of the glass closet he's been in forever.

3- Buck spirals and bounces between whore and hermit.

4- Eddie spirals and gets stuck on whore for a while. A loooooong while. And he is a proficient, popular, busy one.

5- I want to see Eddie start number four with women, get a therapist who helps him dig through the beliefs vs truth and religious guilt, and he realizes he isn't as straight as he thinks.

6- I want Eddie to add men in after number five.

7- I love messy drama, so I want a Tommy return, but not for a second chance. I want Buck to feel like he has to cling to Tommy to have a chance at a partner, so he seeks him out for closure only for Tommy to ask if it is true Eddie is dating men now and then ask why Eddie didn't go for his wooing attempts.

8-I want a Buck breakdown. (I have times that I love whump.) Abby left. Ali left. Taylor couldn't be trusted. Tommy was with him only because Eddie didn't want him. Eddie is never around because he's putting in lots of hours making up for all those dry spells. Cue self-loathing, self-doubt, self-esteem issues, his abandonment issues eating him alive, and the guy having no clue he is jealous af. I want crying. Lots of crying.

9- I want Tommy to run into Eddie and hit on him. I want Tommy to tell Eddie he did everything to try to date him, but thought he was straight. I want it to end with a fight. (I told you, I like messy drama.)

10- I want Buck to come close to leaving because he feels he can't stay, but he doesn't know why. Every member of the 118 family should ask him why he thinks leaving is a good idea. He can't articulate anything other than he can't take it anymore, but can't tell anyone what "it" is. They should all remind him of what he has in LA and what he would be losing. Just before he goes too far to turn back, Eddie begs him not to go and Buck goes off, asking him why he cares, since he isn't even around anymore. Buck tells him to go find some rando for the night like he's been doing for months and get lost. I will give the writers cookies if Buck is shoving Eddie out of his door and yelling at him to just go.

Then, Eddie breaks because he sees boxes being packed, Buck's loft being emptied, and realizes Buck is slipping through his fingers. Buck stops because he realizes why he is losing it.

The have realizations at the same time.

Buddie canon begins.

Add your own headcanons or wishes in the replies.

As always, this may or may not become a fic. If anyone else wants to try it, remember to hit me up with the link to read your work!

#911 abc #911 on abc #9 1 1 buddie #911 #911 show #buddie 911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #eddie diaz x evan buckley #evan buckley x eddie diaz #hot boy winter eddie diaz #emotional wreck evan buckley #tommy kinard is an opportunist and we all know it #911 wishlist

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galexibrain · 4 months ago

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WIP Wednesday!

“You don’t have to go to sleep yet. Once you’re ready for bed you can play video games all night.” “Yes!” the boys shout in unison and run off, leaving a trail of cookie crumbs on the floor. Bulma types an order to the cleaning bots on her phone and takes a breath. One half Saiyan kid is hard enough, but two? How is Chichi doing this, all by herself? Granted, Gohan is way more human in his mannerisms than these two, and also more mature, but still … Vegeta spends a lot of time with Trunks these days and he tires him out during training, but that’s not an option with Goten staying over. Vegeta doesn’t allow anyone besides himself and Trunks in the gravity room. Goten, naturally shy around strangers, used to be scared of him but thankfully he’s gotten over that by now, mostly because all Vegeta does these days is glare. “Will they be this loud all night?” Speak of the devil. “No, only until they crash like kids their age do at some point.” She watches Vegeta take five cookies at once and stuff them in his mouth. “Kids their age used to tire themselves out on the battlefield instead of playing around and making noise,” he grumbles with his mouth full. “Alright, thanks for the lecture on Saiyan child rearing. I’ll make sure they play in the living room and not outside of our bedroom.” Bulma chuckles and hands him a beer can and taking one for herself. Vegeta makes a face but seems to be satisfied with that reply. “How long is Kakarot’s brat staying?” Bulma rolls her eyes. Charming tonight, are we? “Two nights before Gohan comes to pick him up. He has a name, by the way.” She doesn’t have her hopes up on that front; it has taken months to get him to call Trunks by his name, back in the days. “What’s up with you?” she asks when Vegeta stills, with a bowl of soup in his hands that he just took from the fridge to put into the microwave. Vegeta shrugs and continues what he’s doing. “Nothing.” Bulma tilts her head, wondering what that was. She knows his mannerisms, and she knows when he’s tired, or angry, or bored, horny, amused, content … and concerned. But about what?

First chapter of my upcoming WIP, a Vegebul-centric longfic with lots of drama, pain, whump and Dadgeta :3

#dbz #dragon ball #dragon ball z #vegebul #bulma #vegeta #dbz fanfic #my fanfic #my writing #dbz wip wednesday #my fic: homeward bound

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thewiz9062 · 11 months ago

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Smiling Critters: Together, We Resonate (No.6) - Catnap

NOTE: THIS IS NOT RELATED TO CANON IN THE SLIGHTEST. An accurate description of this au is that I took every playtime.co poster art and promotional material from the game and lit up the rest of canon in a bonfire. This means that EVERY character is part of one big cartoon. That's it. No bigger bodies project, no child souls, no experiments, just a depiction of a cartoon. PLEASE do not ask me to do anything suggestive with anyone.

Let's start:

Catnap had a fairly normal childhood up until four, where his parents died in front of him (cause of death is still pending)

After that, he was put in the system, and he quickly learned that it wasn't exactly the safest place, so he ran.

He ended up wandering for a while, sleeping in alleyway to alleyway until he found a random abandoned house (shack? Its one room and fairly small) in a secluded part of a neighborhood, and set up 'home' there. But is it really home without them?

Anyways, he made himself as comfortable as possible in his living conditions. If the residents heard crying near that secluded part of the neighborhood, they didn't say......well, except for Boxy Boo.

Boxy was the only one who dared to go check out the slight commotion and was attacked on sight. Well, pounced on, as boxy is about 3 times bigger than catnap at the moment. Even once he got him to calm down, he still didn't say a word to him, just glared at him until he left. What if it was my fault? What if i was the reason theyleftwhatifpeoplediebecauseofmeleavedontcomeclose But boxy made a vow to check on him at least once a week.

(Time skip- present day? Technically)

Bobby bearhug and picky piggy were picking apples in the forest next to the former neighborhood when they started hearing noises. Picky demanded that whoever was "messing" with them show themselves. And out came catnap. Picky dug into him about being creepy, but bobby was more worried about the state he was in. He looked way skinnier than he should be, assuming that he was their age (he is dw) so before picky sent him off Bobby offered some of the cookies she made. He was a little distrustful at first, but practically lit up for a second before quickly changing back to his blank face. But she noticed, and told him she could meet him back here tomorrow with some other food she wants him to try. He waved his hands and shook his head in a 'no' motion, but they were already off before they could register his response.

For the next few days, bobby brought him food to try, and he gave his best input for someone who doesn't talk. But she never really got to know anything about him, because any questions would be met with a blank stare. She pondered...maybe she should bring Dogday next time? He's great at making friends!

Guys look I traumatized him :D

This is supposed to be the whump but I feel like I overhyped it ngl

Additional notes:

-Insomniac (duh. I tried to give him eyebags in the little drawing I made but idk if they actually look like that)

-Situationally mute

-the whole red gas thing doesn't exist. I know it appeared in the little cartoon introducing chapter 3 but it feels extremely out of place here sooo

-instead, he hums or sings a little lullaby or melody to try and help him (others eventually ;) sleep. It usually has an opposite effect for him though, as the only ones he knows are his mothers, which reminds him of.....yeah.

-he really likes music because of this, even if he doesnt get to listen to it often. its sorta the one thing that he sorta still hangs on to.

I really enjoyed this one!! Next is gonna be our resident friend making machine, with a built-in recap to go with. Anyways BYEEE

#poppy playtime #smiling critters poppy playtime #smiling critters #smiling critters au #Together we Resonate AU #twr! catnap #catnap #art

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samantitheos · 11 months ago

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Weekly Tag Wednesday

thanks for the tags @deedala and @mybrainismelted <3

——————–

Another this or that! The rules are simple: here’s two things, you must choose one from between them!! aaand go! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

iced coffee or hot coffee? hot coffee

iced tea or hot tea? hot tea

lemonade or sweet tea? lemonade

minty gum or fruity gum? minty gum

pasta or potatoes?

olives or pickles? pickles

rice or bread? bread

cookies or brownies? ehhhh, brownies

hand written reminders or phone reminders? hand-written

pull-over hoodie or zippy hoodie? pullover

jeans or sweatpants? sweatpants

flip-flops/thongs or slides? flippity flops

paperback book or ebook? paperback

enemies to lovers or fwb to lovers? fwb to lovers (but childhood friends to lovers even more so)

only one bed or fake dating? fake dating

hurt/comfort or whump? hurt/comfort (i still don't really understand the distinction lol)

mutual pining or amnesia? mutual pining

cannon compliant or alternate universe? alternate universe

soulmate au or sports au? soulmate (Is There Somewhere, my beloved 🥹)

celebrity au or coffeeshop au? coffeshop au (hello, None the wiser 🥰)

one-shot or longfic? loooooongfic

AND FINALLY….😈

milkovich or gallagher?

tagging some lovelies and anyone who wants to play @yeah-all-of-it @whatthebodygraspsnot @energievie @tv-obssessions @ian-galagher @ohkate @stocious @deathclassic @gallavichgeek @heymrspatel @lingy910y @creepkinginc @vintagelacerosette

#tag game #weekly tag wednesday #look at me trying to get involved lmao

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whumperofworlds · 1 year ago

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Whumper kidnaps the team and places them all in separate cells. Whumper threatens Team Leader to do what they say, or else they'll kill them and the team. Team Leader is released and forced to retrieve the MacGuffin for Whumper, with Whumper keeping a close eye on then so they wouldn't do anything funny.

Meanwhile, as they wait for Team Leader to return with the Macguffin, Whumper tortures the rest of the team to not only pass the time, but to show Team Leader when they return how they shouldn't have messed with Whumper.

#whump #whump prompt #captivity #ransom #torture #team whump #if anyone knows what this is referenced to you'll get a cookie!#i think a certain someone might know though... not naming names but i know who you are 😉

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michellemisfit · 11 months ago

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Tag Game Wednesday 🤟

Tagged by these lovely humans who have not given up on me, even though I have suuuucked at playing games with y’all. Thank you @heymacy @mybrainismelted @darlingian @creepkinginc @suzy-queued @energievie @guinguin1984

Special thanks to @deedala for enriching my little paddock 🦙

THIS OR THAT - The rules are simple: two things, you must choose one.

iced coffee or hot coffee?

I don’t drink coffee and hate the flavour so… iced, as taste buds work less well at colder temperatures 🧊

iced tea or hot tea?

Hot, please 🫖

lemonade or sweet tea?

Lemonade. Sweet tea dries my mouth out

minty gum or fruity gum?

Mint. Always freaks me out when I accidentally put fruit gum in my mouth lol

pasta or potatoes?

Pasta. There some potato things that I LOVE, but others I’m meh about. Whereas ALL PASTA IS GOOD PASTA.

olives or pickles?

Pickles 😋

rice or bread?

Bread!! I love risotto, but otherwise rice is meh.

cookies or brownies?

🤤 I want them both, but Chani was 100% correct. Homemade cookies are amazing!!! But shop bought cookies are sometimes incredibly meh, whereas even a meh brownie is pretty fucking good!! So I choose brownies!

hand written reminders or phone reminders?

Phone reminders. My phone calendar, alarms, and notes section literally runs my life. Sometimes there’s a phone reminder telling me to write hand written reminder… lol

pull-over hoodie or zippy hoodie?

Zipper Superiority 🤟

jeans or sweatpants?

Sweatpants. Not worn jeans since 2019 lol

flip-flops/thongs or slides?

Neither, as I need arch support, but… the flip flop strap between my toes makes me want to claw my eyes out so… slides?

paperback book or ebook?

Paperback book. I always read with a pen in my hand to underline things and write comments in the margins. Can’t do that in an e-reader.

enemies to lovers or fwb to lovers?

Enemies to Lovers my beloved!!

only one bed or fake dating?

Fake Dating pines so good!!! Also agreeing to be handsy and snuggly for show, while desperately trying to act unaffected? BARK BARK

hurt/comfort or whump?

Good Whump is the bee’s knees, but sadly just as hard to find. @sam-loves-seb whumped the hell out of last October, but Whump of that quality is hard to come by, so for pure availability I have to choose H/C

mutual pining or amnesia?

Amnesia, baby!

cannon compliant or alternate universe?

AU, because the sky is the limit!!

soulmate au or sports au?

Sports AU love of my life!!! ⚽️🏀🏈⚾️🥎🎾

celebrity au or coffeeshop au?

Coffee shop every single time. You know how sometimes you enter a new fandom and you go looking and there… just… aren’t any coffee shop AUs? Wtf is up with that?!? They are a staple and what fandom is built on, surely!

one-shot or longfic?

I love long fic but I also have commitment phobia and a lot of anxiety over “wasting” time reading fic when I could be being productive, so… one-shots are nice! And a good one-shot packs a punch like no other!!

AND FINALLY....😈

milkovich or gallagher?

Let’s just be honest here… the Milkoviches would scare the everliving daylights out of me in real life, and if anyone I knew dated one I would do everything in my power to break up that relationship, without getting shivved. So… Gallagher lol.

That was fun!!

I would like to tag @vintagelacerosette @too-schoolforcool @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @mickeysgaymom @ian-galagher @lupeloto @crossmydna @rereadanon @the-rat-wins @tsuga-of-mars @crestfallercanyon @ohkate @palepinkgoat @thepupperino @captainjowl @francesrose3 @iandarling @mikhailoisbaby

#tag game Wednesday #tag game #Mys stuff #tag you’re it

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blue-disco-lights · 11 months ago

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Weekly Tag Wednesday

Always delightful to be tagged by @deedala @energievie @mybrainismelted @shippergirl121fic @creepkinginc @darlingian @jrooc & @heymacy!

The rules are simple: here's two things, you must choose one from between them!! aaand go! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

iced coffee or hot coffee?- (extra) hot coffee

iced tea or hot tea?- hot tea

lemonade or sweet tea?- lemonade

minty gum or fruity gum?- minty gum

pasta or potatoes?- pasta

olives or pickles?- olives

rice or bread?- how how to make this decision?! rice (but also bread)

cookies or brownies?- brownies

hand written reminders or phone reminders?- phone (but funny you should ask because i just started writing reminders down on paper)

pull-over hoodie or zippy hoodie?- zippy

jeans or sweatpants?- sweatpants

flip-flops/thongs or slides?- slides

paperback book or ebook?- ebook

enemies to lovers or fwb to lovers?- enemies to lovers

only one bed or fake dating?- only one bed

hurt/comfort or whump?- hurt/comfort

mutual pining or amnesia?- mutual pining

cannon compliant or alternate universe?- au

soulmate au or sports au?- sports au

celebrity au or coffeeshop au?- coffeeshop au

one-shot or longfic?- longfic

AND FINALLY....😈milkovich or gallagher?- milkovich🖤

Care to play? @skylerwinchester @transmickey @gallabitch73 @doshiart @suzy-queued @gallawitchxx @mickeysgaymom @metalheadmickey @bawlbrayker @sisitrip @lingy910y @gillyp @gembu-tortuesouscafeine @abetterdaaye @heymrspatel @rereadanon @jessieoneday @ian-galagher @sickness-health-all-that-shit @sweetbee78 @ms-moonlight-inn and anyone else!

#tag games with friends

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petitmimosa · 10 months ago

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This or That Ask Game

Tagged by @alittlefrenchtree for an obscure reason. Should've made you guess what I was going to answer and you'd get one sugar per cup of tea for each one you got right.

Iced or hot coffee ☕

Why would you make me drink coffee in the first place? Why was coffee even discovered and who decided it was an acceptable beverage? If I have to make a choice, then iced and with a shit ton of sugar/chocolate/white chocolat syrup. You know Starbucks' white chocolate frappuccino? Very little coffee, lots of everything else.

Iced or hot tea 🍵

Why would you ice TEA? This is why the human race is doomed I'm telling you. Tea is to be served hot but never burnt so get that kettle off before it boils.

Lemonade or sweet tea 🍋

Sweet tea is an abomination. Why would you give me BAKING SODA TO DRINK? Ugh. Lemonade is alright if homemade by someone who's not addicted to sugar though.

Fruity or minty gum

Not allowed to chew gum anymore but I was more of a mint person. Fruity flavors were too chemical for my taste.

Pasta or potatoes

Niak. This is a hard one. Potatoes are fun and you can fry them and they're creatures of God but pastaaaaaa... Parmesan goes on pasta and for that reason only it gets my vote.

Olives or pickles

There are two things you need to know about me if we're gonna share food together: I will never, ever willingly consume olives and will have pickles with absolutely everything. The small ones though, cornichons. Not the gigantic ones people in America like to grow.

Rice or bread

Bread. Bread. BREAD.

Cookies or brownies

Brownies take too long to bake and you have more fun with cookies. Also, that's my cat's name and if I don't say cookies he will know tonight when I get home and he will bite me to punish me.

Handwritten or phone reminders-

That notes app is somewhere on my phone because I can't uninstall it. But I hate my handwriting with a passion so I just remember everything since I have an excellent memory.

Zip-up or pullover hoodie

I hate zip-ups, I look like a whale in them. And hoodies are COZYYYY.

Jeans or sweatpants

I look even more like a whale in sweatpants so I'll have to say jeans. But when I'm home I'm just wearing pjs.

Flip flops/thongs or slides

Both are evil so they can crawl back to where they belong. I'll sleep with socks (even thin) all year long. I'll take them off when we reach 40°.

Paperback or ebook

I use my kindle before bed but paperback all the way when you want to spend hours reading.

Enemies to lovers or FWB to lovers

Enemies to lovers all the way. The hatred, the tension, the angst, the oh, oh maybe I was wrong? the messy feelings, GIVE IT TO ME I'M READY.

One bed or fake dating

That one bed trope has been alive way too long and needs to be put to rest, pun very much intended.

Hurt/comfort or whump

Hurt/comfort. I'm all for angst but the heavy hurt usually deals with atrocities and, nope.

Mutual pining or amnesia

Amnesia! That's the kind of angst I like.

Canon compliant or AU

It depends on the ship. I usually prefer canon but there are some excellent AUs out there.

Soulmate or Sports AU

My issue with sports AU is that it's almost always about the characters in the sports world rather than the chosen sport itself. I end up frustrated with how poorly depicted the sport is or how irrelevant it is to have them in this world in the first place all.the.time. Like okay they're figure skaters but why would you have them do 3 triple lutzes in one program when it's not a thing and yolo spins without telling me if it's a flying sit spin or a back camel?

Celebrity AU or Coffeeshop AU

I may have outgrown the coffeeshop AU, so, celebrity.

One shot or long fic

Quality over quantity. Which isn't an answer but :D

Anyone who wants to answer this, have at it!

#petitmimosask #i'm exhausted now

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stocious · 11 months ago

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tag games time! i was tagged by @energievie, @creepkinginc, @darlingian, @jrooc, @spacerockwriting and @mybrainismelted, thank you friends! 🫂🖤

Iced coffee or hot coffee? no coffee.

Iced tea or hot tea? no tea.

Lemonade or sweet tea? NO. i'm so picky sorry.

Minty gum or fruity gum? minty to the point it burns.

Pasta or potatoes? taters precious.

Olives or pickles? pickles.

Rice or bread? oh. uh. hm. bread then.

Cookies or brownies? cookies!

Handwritten reminders or phone reminders? handwritten. my just ignore my phone so gotta get that shit down on paper.

Pull-over hoodie or zippy hoodie? zippy all day every day!

Jeans or sweatpants? sweatpants.

Flip-flops/thongs or slides? slides, if i could find any that fit my feet 😂

Paperback book or ebook? i mean i haven't read an actuall book in years, so i guess ebook? but i love the feel of a good paperback.

Enemies to lovers or fwb to lovers? enemies to lovers baby! chomp slurp!

Only one bed or fake dating? i'm not really into either but i'm more likely to click one bed.

Hurt/comfort or whump? hurt/comfort.

Mutual pining or amnesia? mutual pining! *slams fists on table*

Canon-compliant or alternate universe? au! any au! all the au! gimmie your best au recs, i'll eat it up.

Soulmate AU or sports AU? RUDE. i really didn't think i'd be into sports, but here i am. sports, simply because i think the most commonn soulmate systems are a little boring (i'll read them all though)

Celebrity AU or coffeeshop AU? coffee shop.

One-shot or longfic? i'll read a million words and still want more. the longer, the better.

AND FINALLY….😈

Milkovich or Gallagher? milkovich 🖤

idk whose been tagged so i'll leave this open to anyone who feels like it! 🖤

#tag games

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whump-me · 8 months ago

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Unseen: Chapter 10

Chapter 10 of Unseen, a novel-length whump story about a ruthless mob heiress and the superpowered assassin she kidnaps and forces to work for her—and the unexpected friendship that develops between them.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the complete novel on Patreon

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The chocolate chip cookies were gone. Delta-Nine-308 didn’t know what to call this new kind. They were as pale as her skin that almost never saw the daylight, and they crumbled when she bit into them. Buried in the center was a gush of red sweetness. It looked like blood, and tasted like candy.

It was just jam, she knew. She’d had it on toast plenty of times back home. Not everything was new to her. Whatever Yvette thought, her life hadn’t been entirely devoid of sweetness.

But hidden inside a cookie, jam no longer felt ordinary. It tasted like a secret.

It tasted like—

She stopped herself before she could think freedom. This wasn’t freedom.

But whatever it was, she thought… maybe…

She thought maybe she might like it.

Not enough for it to be worth those men throwing a net over her, sticking a needle in her, and hauling her away. Not enough to be worth losing her home and her cohort and Joss and her familiar room. But…

But cookies. And TV. And a couch that wrapped itself around her body like it wanted her to stay.

And last night, she’d had a mission. She hadn’t been prepared. It had been a new challenge, harder than any she had faced before. And she had succeeded anyway.

She heard the guards downstairs sometimes. Moving. Talking. A reminder that she was still a prisoner. The weight of the bracelet on her left arm was another reminder.

She needed those reminders. She looked at the bracelet as often as she could, and moved that arm so she would feel the weight dragging her wrist down. She turned off the TV sometimes just to hear the guards. Just for the reminder that she shouldn’t get too comfortable.

It wasn’t working.

The bracelet was new. The guards weren’t. There had always been guards. If anything, the strange part was not seeing them. Back home, they were stationed at every corner. They escorted her and the rest of her cohort from room to room. They stood at the door to the bathroom, and knocked if she was in there too long.

Maybe that was why she kept turning off the TV to hear them. Not to remind herself that she shouldn’t get comfortable. But because hearing the guards, knowing they were there, was comfortable.

It was being alone that made her uneasy. Sitting here on the couch without anyone ordering her up to do her daily exercises. Eating cookies she hadn’t earned. Watching TV, which was a luxury so forbidden she’d never even had the chance to earn it.

Something dark and ominous looked under the surface of her thoughts, like the cartoon shark that was on the TV right now, a fin jutting up above deceptively calm waters.

Yvette said this was freedom. It was a lie.

She knew it wasn’t freedom because there were guards.

There had always been guards.

Had she…

Had she always…

She turned up the volume as high as it would go. A cartoon squid’s laugh echoed off the walls, making her ears ache. But the thought would not be silenced.

Have I always been a prisoner?

What she’d had back home… it hadn’t been freedom, not like Yvette would think of freedom. She knew that. She wasn’t stupid.

But it wasn’t not-freedom, either. It was just… it was…

It was home. Why did it have to be more than that?

Because she couldn’t understand this without understanding that. She had never known there was anything there to be understood. But now she was a prisoner, no matter how often Yvette called it freedom. Only being a prisoner felt freer than home ever had. So then what had she been back home?

She didn’t want to think about this.

The cartoon kept playing, but she couldn’t concentrate anymore. She turned the TV off.

She knew what she needed to do next. She knew, but she didn’t want to do it. And she didn’t want to think about why she didn’t want to do it.

A full day had passed since her mission. She hadn’t tried to escape again yet.

She had told herself she would try again tonight. But now the windows were dark—windows, she had windows, what kind of prisoner had windows?—and she hadn’t moved off the couch all day.

No one had come to get her for dinner. She should probably eat something besides cookies. She just didn’t know how to do all this… all this choosing.

Dinner first. It wouldn’t be a good idea to attempt escape with nothing in her belly but cookies. Especially when she didn’t know when she would get her next meal. Without dollars, she would go hungry until she found her way home. Whenever that would be.

Dinner. Then escape.

She didn’t move.

Maybe this was why there had always been someone to tell her what to do next back home. Because they had known that otherwise she would do exactly nothing. She hadn’t done her exercises since she had come here. No weapons drills, no hand-to-hand combat. Without anyone to lead her to bed and shut off the lights, she might not even go to bed on time. She might stay here on the couch all night, watching cartoons.

The thought sent a full-body tingle through her. It took her a moment to realize she was smiling.

The smile faded.

She couldn’t stay.

One more night. She could wait one more night. Maybe by tomorrow, she would have a plan. A way to find headquarters once she left.

The couch seemed to yawn wide under her, pulling her deeper into its embrace.

She forced herself to her feet. It felt like dragging herself out of bed the morning after a mission, pulling herself from the sticky sleep of whatever drug they injected her with after mission nights to ensure the excitement of the mission didn’t keep her awake.

If she gave it one more night, tomorrow she would only tell herself the same thing. One more night, and one more, and one more. She would never leave.

Would it be so bad to never leave?

She shook her head at herself. This was exactly why she had to go. Of course she didn’t want to stay and be a prisoner. And she needed home. She needed the white walls that didn’t hurt her eyes, and the guards to tell her where to be at every moment, and Joss always there to take care of everything. If she stayed much longer, she would forget why she needed home.

She was already starting to forget.

This was a good time to try. If the guards heard her walking to the bedroom, they would think she was going to bed.

She didn’t know how closely they were listening. The guards back home always listened closely. If she didn’t run the tap long enough to brush her teeth, they knew, and sent her back to do it right.

So tonight, she put on an act. She ran the faucet for two minutes, then opened the closet and rummaged around like she was looking for pajamas. She didn’t look up at the hole.

She turned off the lights. She lay on the bed and turned from side to side a few times, like she was trying to get comfortable. How much could the guards hear from downstairs? Better to be safe. Better to be thorough.

She gave herself a full half-hour. It wasn’t hard to stay awake. Not here. Even the softness of the bed—softer than the couch, maybe softer than a cloud—didn’t lull her to sleep. It wasn’t like her room back home: lights off, into bed, starchy sheet pulled up to her chin. Eyes closed. Out until morning like she was flipping a switch.

Back home, sleep was a matter of training, as much as any move in her combat drills. She went through the proper physical steps, and she got the intended results. Here, everything was new. Even when she was relaxed, she vibrated with all the newness around her. The bed. The colors. The sounds—insects chirping outside, owls hooting mournfully.

The sheets even smelled different. Back home, the sheets smelled sharp and clean. Like the air. Like the labs. Like everything in headquarters. Here, the sheets smelled like flowers.

She tried to count down the seconds. She could do it accurately enough to be off only by a second or two at the end, no matter how long she counted. At least, she could at home.

Here, she kept getting distracted.

Those owls—were they calling for each other, because they couldn’t find each other in the dark? Her stomach felt at once too hungry and too full. And the bed—how did they even make it so soft, and where did that flower smell come from? Did people in the outside world mix flowers with their laundry? Was that what the flowers in the garden were for?

Again and again, her mind found another tangent to go down. Then she would emerge from her thoughts long enough to remember she had been trying to count down the time. She would steal a glance at the clock to remind herself where she had left off—even though that was forbidden during training, worth a missed lunch and a missed dinner.

She would start again. Only get distracted by another tangent not two minutes later.

Finally, she gave up and just watched the clock.

Precisely half an hour after she had turned out the lights, she got out of bed. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, which wasn’t real darkness anyway, not like in her room at home. Moonlight shone in from the windows—real windows—and from under the bedroom door. The clock gave off a light of its own. How did anyone in the outside world sleep with this many distractions surrounding them all the time?

She kept her footsteps silent. In slow motion, she eased open the closet door. Before she could find another way to stall, she leapt up and grasped the jagged edges of the hole.

She was prepared for the pain of the bracelet. It was exactly as bad as she remembered, no more, no less. She heaved herself through the opening, the jagged wood catching on the fabric around her hips, and collapsed on the floor as shock burned through her.

She gave herself five seconds to lie there. Then she forced herself to her feet.

Her muscles didn’t want to obey. They tensed in small, irregular convulsions, the shock driving them out of her control. But she knew how to compensate. She’d had practice. And it wasn’t that bad a shock. She’d had worse.

The furniture ghosts seemed to watch her as she yanked the window open. Pain radiated from the bracelet. It came in a rhythm of pulses—three small ones, then a larger one. Understanding the rhythm made it easier to endure.

This window wasn’t locked. It opened easily. And out the window was a drainpipe. That site made her pause, wasting several seconds of precious time. This was too easy. Was it a trap?

No, she decided, struggling to think through the pain. It wasn’t a trap, because there was no reason to set a trap for her. If Yvette had wanted to know whether she would make it up here, she could have just set a guard in the room with the ghostly furniture. Why go to the extra trouble of making sure she had an easy way down? Why wait until she was outside to catch her trying to escape?

It wasn’t a trap. Just a stroke of luck. From here, as long as she could continue to cope with the pain, this would be easy.

She hadn’t expected it to be easy.

She looked down at the drainpipe snaking its way to the ground, and felt sick.

She hadn’t realized until now that she had expected to fail. The window wouldn’t open, or the wall would be a sheer surface, impossible to climb down. Or, or, or… there were so many ways this could have gone wrong. Instead, it was going right.

Why did she feel cheated?

The guards down in the gardens were mere splotches of shadow from this far up. The closest one stood about ten feet to the right. If she timed her window of invisibility correctly—and she would—they would never see her. She could make it into the closest stand of ornamental trees before her body forced her back to the visible spectrum.

After that, back to the forest of shops. She would find a place that was open—somewhere with a lot of people, so she wouldn’t be noticed. She would go in invisible, find someone who was distracted, and steal their phone.

She had never used a phone, but she knew what they were. Joss had one. Everyone had one. It couldn’t be hard to find one to steal.

Phones had maps. She didn’t know where headquarters was, but she knew a few crucial things about the location. She knew it was underground, buried in the side of a mountain. She knew there was nothing around for twenty miles—she’d heard two guards complaining about that once, talking about how far they had to go to find nightlife, whatever that was.

Not only that, she still remembered the addresses of most of her past missions. She didn’t need that information anymore, but she had been taught how to remember, not how to forget.

And sometimes, on the way back from a mission, she would count the time. It helped calm the excited drumbeat of her heart, once there was no more need for excitement. It helped her think instead of feel. It helped her get back into the mindset of home, where everything was done by the clock.

She could keep time more accurately than anyone else in her cohort. Even when half an hour had passed. Or forty-five minutes. Or two hours.

She knew which address was half an hour from headquarters. And which one was forty-five minutes. And which one was two hours.

If she had a map, if she could find all those addresses, she could find her way home.

The only problem—aside from dollars, aside from aching feet, aside from people looking at her… she stopped herself. All right, so there were a lot of problems. But the only problem worth thinking about was the pain. Could she do all this with the shocks pulsing through her? Could she even go invisible?

As if in answer to the question, the pain stopped.

She shook the bracelet. It stayed quiescent.

It must have been set to stop after a certain amount of time. How long? She didn’t know. She hadn’t been keeping track. About five minutes, maybe. It made sense. Whoever had designed it wouldn’t have expected someone to be able to endure it that long.

They had underestimated her.

She stared at the bracelet, feeling strangely bereft.

There was nothing stopping her now.

The cool night air brought the smell of flowers to her nose. The rich sweetness beckoned her.

Or was the sharp cold of the breeze a warning?

She disappeared. Then she thrust one leg out the window and grasped the drainpipe. She tugged at it, testing its weight, until she was sure it would hold her.

And then… she did nothing.

The clock in her cells was ticking. She could feel it counting down. And yet she hesitated.

The couch. The TV. The cookies. The impossibly soft bed. And there were so many things she hadn’t even tried yet. The musical instruments… microwave popcorn… that huge bathtub…

She had only ever seen bathtubs in the homes of her targets. At home, they only had showers—one minute of hot water, two minutes of cold. She had always wondered what a bathtub would feel like.

It wasn’t freedom. It wasn’t. Yvette had abducted her from her home, from her mission. Whatever Yvette wanted her to believe, it had not been a rescue. She wasn’t that naive. Yvette had locked her in this cage because Yvette wanted her to work for her.

However soft the bed was, it would never feel like home. Even if the red and gold of the bedroom was growing on her, just a little, it would never be as soothing as the white walls of home. And the man with his oversized sunglasses would never be Joss.

Once she was home, how long would it be before she could see the sky again?

Here, she could see the sky every day. All she had to do was turn her head to look out the window.

How long before she ate another cookie? Probably never. Cookies weren’t nutritionally balanced, and now that she was a full operative, she didn’t have many chances to earn rewards anymore.

In place of the TV, there would be three hours of training in the morning and two in the evening. When she turned her head, she wouldn’t see the sky. She would see a guard watching her. Always watching.

Watching to make sure she didn’t slack off. Watching to make sure she didn’t talk to another member of her cohort about something that wasn’t related to training. Watching to make sure she didn’t go off on her own.

The time she had spent in Yvette’s house might have been the only time she had ever been truly alone. Unless she counted the time she spent in her targets’ houses after they were dead. There was no time for relaxation then. Always, discovery was a heartbeat away. Always, Joss was waiting.

At home, she was only ever alone when the lights turned off and she closed her eyes. And then her body fell asleep like it had been trained, and didn’t wake up until the alarm blared and the guard came to take her to breakfast.

Yvette had talked about rescue like it was such a simple concept. Like there was nothing back home for her to miss.

She missed Joss’s looks of quiet concern, his hushed warnings about looking too happy on mission nights. She loved the cookies here, she wished she could eat them every day, but she missed knowing exactly what she would be eating and when. Dinner at six o’clock sharp; beef on Mondays, chicken on Tuesdays, vegetarian on Wednesdays. She missed knowing where she was supposed to be every minute of every day.

If she really had been a prisoner, she wouldn’t miss it. Would she?

Yvette would have told her there was nothing to miss. She would have said freedom was worth everything she had given up. If Delta-Nine-308 had tried to explain, she didn’t think she would have been able to.

Joss would have said she knew better than to hesitate like this. He would have warned her that to do anything but try to escape, when she knew Yvette was holding her prisoner, would risk an instability mark. After all, why would someone choose to remain a captive?

She let the clock in her cells count down.

When she reappeared again, she pulled her leg back in and closed the window.

There would always be another time, she told herself. But that inner voice was getting fainter and fainter.

She dropped back down into the closet as quietly as she could. Then she climbed into bed, closed her eyes, and tried to remember how to fall asleep on command.

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Tagged: @suspicious-whumping-egg @whump-kitty @violets-whumperflies

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

#whump #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Unseen #my writing: Mind Games #living weapon whump #superpower whump #emotional whump

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amateurwind · 1 year ago

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Second of October have some whump cold sober.

Dick Greyson loved people. It was written in the stars, a law of the cosmos. He would sacrifice his arm for anyone on a bad day and lay down his soul on a good. But above all, he adored his family.

Heck, he had nearly gone insane when Bruce had disappeared. He had killed the Joker for Jason. He would pull a constantine and sell his soul for any of his family.

He just wondered why it seemed that he was the only one giving.

He didn't want much. Didn't ask for much. Heck, he would take a hug. He gave them all the time but it would be nice to get one. Just once in a while.

He would give anything for one right now really. It wasn't often he would have days like this, be he longed for his family. Longed to be with them in front of a fire talking eating Alfred’s cookies, just being together. Knowing they were safe.

But it seemed nobody else shared that same sentiment.

He had called everyone. He just wanted to talk. That would have been enough.

“Sorry, can't tonight.”

“We're running late, we'll call you when we're finished.”

Those were the polite ones. Everyone else didn't even pick up. He is fairly certain Jason blocked him.

He pulls his blanket tighter and keeps glancing at his phone. A movie played in the background, and his leftover takeout lay forgotten on the table.

He couldn’t be selfish. He just hoped everyone knew he loved them. And If he couldn't have it, he would give it.

Then maybe one day someone will give it back.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #batfam #whumptober #idk what to tag this as #idk what im doing #sad thoughts #whump

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kels-orange-joe · 1 year ago

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introduction ^_^ (regularly updates)

haii my name is stitch (not my real name obviously)

and yes as in the chaotic blue creature from lilo & stitch but that’s besides the point

this is my side blog!! an omori (mainly kel) themed one at that. my main blog is @stitchthelilo, and this is specifically for stimboards/sensory boards (well some other stuff too but that’s like the main thing) whatever you wanna call em, it’s also a kel fanblog cuz he is THE BEST OMORI CHARACTER!!! I WILL STAND BY THAT TIL THE DAY I DIE BECAUSE ITS TRUE

nonetheless.. i do take requests! and my status will update when they are open and stuff like that idk

i tend to use emoticons a lot and i’m a lil bit cringe so just a warning

my first time doing this so criticism is accepted with wide arms :)

the stuff you can request is what i have put in the tags section :3 (will further elaborate in rules/boundaries section)

ohh and even if you wanna request something really specific (like combining #sunny’s sketchbook and #character portraits for example) you can still request it as long as it’s something that is a combination of tags that i put

also if you want to request a prompt pls specify if you want it to be dialogue or scenarios