#if you’re ever worried that your story isn’t ‘whump’ enough

[whump-is-love-whump-is-life]

#just a reminder #if you’re ever worried that your story isn’t ‘whump’ enough #whump #whump memes #my memes #my posts #emotional whump #whump community #whumpblr

[undercoverpena]

Hi! I like the story I have written and then my doubt sets in and I worry that no one will read it and I’ll fall flat on my face. You ever feel like this or any advice?

okay, firstly, yay to you writing and loving what you wrote! that’s amazing!!! secondly, I’m so sorry but…

anon, you wrote and YOU love it. that’s what matters. YOU. not them. not everyone else.

don’t get me wrong, I get it. we all get nervous, etc, but trust me, the people who want to read your piece WILL FIND IT. and, writing is subjective as HELL. it also changes like the weather — some days, all I wanna do is chew on some painful angst, another all I want is whump, and another romance. and that’s just themes! so even if you “fell on your face”, you can get back up. brush yourself down. but in truth you’d be the one putting yourself down if you let the weight of others rest too heavy on your shoulders. because it should only matter that you love your piece—and, it already has one fan: you.

everyone else is a bonus. every other person who reads it or likes, is an added ✨. a comment, a reblog, hell even a DM. it’s all icing on the cake, right? because you wrote the thing and you liked it.

we can’t chase notes, because they’ll never be enough. you think a number will make you happy but it won’t, you reach it and want to hit it again. instead, my advice is to try and realign how you’re thinking about the piece. ensure that you’re completely happy with it for you, not anyone else. pick out a line, or two, or a few and save them somewhere to look at on hard days.

my main advice, that isn’t really advice is just to be true to you. no one else can be you. the rest, tropes, characters… they can go up and down in popularity, even if the fandom stays alive. one persons holy grail fic is another persons 1-star read. the only concrete thing in writing, is you. you who is improving with each sentence, you who is exploring and writing and creating.

so, be nervous, but don’t shy from it. and love what you do, first. don’t try to be someone else, don’t try to write what you think others will want, because it’ll be hollow—it won’t feel like you. so, write it, love it, post it (if you want) and then read it yourself. enjoy it. fan-person out over yourself, cause you did it: you told the story only you can tell 🩷✨

#Jo’s unhelpful writing advice #asked and answered #anon

[flowersarefreetherapy]

Fever

For @whumpawoman’s Whump Girl Summer: Day 2, Fever

CW: Fever, lightly implied past violence, bbu universe

“Jenna?”

Ash walks into the living room, hands still damp from using the bathroom. She sighs in relief when she sees them. It’s been long enough for her to start worrying. They’ve been strangely silent all day and the piano has remained unplayed in the sunroom. 

“Yes, Ash?” She asks. It’s still weird, even after all this time, to be using their name instead of a title. But they rejected all titles from the moment she was given to them and told her to only use their name. 

“My head hurts.”

“Was your hair up for a long time?”

They shake their head. “No, I’ve had it down all day. But my head hurts and I’m really hot.”

“May I touch your forehead?”

They nod and she presses the back of her head to their forehead, then cheek. The heat coming off their skin twists her stomach. Master and Mistress aren’t coming back from the gala for several hours. She doesn’t know who to call. Their grandparents live six hours away, and she doesn’t think this is bad enough for an ambulance. 

Think, Jenna, think. You’ve been trained for this. What did you do there? When someone was sick?

They trained them, back in the white walls and twisting corridors, on how to help someone with a high fever. Practicing on Guards with their skin torn from their bones and Romantics exhausted with nothing but plastic smiles and other Domestics whose bodies can’t keep up with the strain of working. 

Jenna forces herself to take a deep breath and smile. “It’ll be okay. I think you just have a bad fever.”

Ash shakes their head. “No, I can’t be sick! I have a recital in two days and I have to practice!”

“I know, but you have to rest. Otherwise, you’re going to make it a lot worse.”

Ash sharply turns away, focusing their gaze on the far wall. Jenna waves her hand in their peripheral vision, but they don’t turn to look at her. With a sigh, she stands and waits. Ultimately it’s their decision. She can only offer so much of her opinion. 

You are not their friend. You are not their parent. You are their tool, to help them connect with the world. You shouldn’t even be speaking to them like this.

Jenna flinches, expecting a blow, but Ash has never hit her. Not out of anger at her, at least. There were several times when they were younger and frustrated over the world, but that was understandable. She feels the same anger, hidden far down in her heart where it can eat away at the resentment buried there too. 

Finally, Ash turns back to her and says, “Fine. I’ll rest.”

Their signs are sharp and fast, but the glassy sheen of their eyes tells a different story. Jenna smiles and dips her head. 

“Thank you.”

“I want to rest out here, though. Can you get my computer and blankets?”

Jenna nods. “Would you like something to drink? You also need to stay hydrated.”

“I suppose Dr. Pepper isn’t an option?”

“I think you already know the answer.”

Ash rolls their eyes. “Fine. Then I’ll take some apple juice. I think we still have some left over from Christmas. And a glass of water too. I’m going to be the most hydrated you’ve ever seen.” 

“That’s a good choice. I don’t want the fever to get worse.”

“Yeah, that would be bad for you,” Ash laughs. They walk towards the couch, already focused on the television remote. 

Jenna watches them, a heavy weight dragging her heart down. Right. Ash is her owner. Not a friend, never a friend. 

“Yes,” she whispers. “That would be.”

#waw2023 #whumpgirlsummer #day 2 #fever #Jenna my love #Ash #sickfic #fever whump #implied past violence #deaf character #pet whump #bbu universe #bbu

[warmblanketwhump]

A funny irl whump story of mine I reckoned you’d enjoy:

A year-ish ago I went on a class trip in the city amid winter. Now, I live in another town than the city I study in, so I commute back and forth by public transport - long story short, I ran to catch the bus to the train station so I could hop on the incoming train back home, but unfortunately I missed it and had to wait for over an hour for the next one.

And alas, my phone had died. Until the end I was very worried about any anxieties I may give to my family by not responding to their calls but another concern was also the *time* - by having zero battery, I also had no watch. Somehow, my genius brain thought it was a good idea to go like “Since you have no way of telling when the train is coming, you better stay on the platform *outside* so you can see it coming. Don’t even think about sitting inside the station and asking people for the time, this is Cringe”. So I spent that hour-and-something pacing along the platform, getting colder and colder by the minute…

The train came when it had gotten dark, I met an old friend and we sat together inside. The compartments were warm but my insides were *not* - I chatted along with her, hoping that I’ll soon feel better but by the time we arrived back in town, I still felt like a refrigerated chicken. In fact, I still felt unbearably cold as I rode in my dad’s even warmer car on the way back to my house (the one fortunate thing was that he knew he had to pick me up so my lack of phone contact wasn’t a problem anymore). 

What also was concerning was that I was barely even shivering. Reasonably worried, I took my temperature out of fear I may have given myself hypothermia but luckily, I was fine. I went to take a hot shower anyways but still felt like I had jumped in freezing river waters to dig for the cross (I’m referencing Yordanovden here lol, a very cool Bulgarian tradition for those who are curious). At last, the only thing that thawed the cold out of me was wrapping myself up in blankets and laying in bed for 30 minutes. That last part was fun because:

 a) “Yipee, I single-handedly prevented my demise, look how responsible and independent I am!!”

b) It was a nice excuse to lay tucked in my comfy, warm bed for half an hour before having to succumb to Ye Beloathed Homework

c) I had my pretty Sailor Moon bed sheets to keep me company while I was defrosting :D

Hope you all enjoyed my tomfoolery, telling it was a Neat writing exercise, stay safe and utilise your common sense to prevent ending up like I did lol

oh my goodness, anon, that sounds like an ordeal!!! there really is no worse feeling than being so chilled down to your bones that even being in a heated place isn’t enough to warm you up 🥶🥶🥶

i used to have to go to these cold-weather sporting events back in college, and it’s honestly such a weird feeling afterward when you’re sitting there wrapped in blankets and somehow STILL cold (honestly can’t believe I hadn’t thought of describing it as feeling like a refrigerated chicken - that’s perfect 🤣)

moral of the story - don’t wait outside in the cold!! ever!! unless you want to be someone’s whump inspo!

#i love being the source for all irl whump stories #anon #cold whump #irl whump

[spencers-renaissance]

Emergency Contact

Summary: When Spencer ends up in the hospital again, his emergency contact — who happens to be his boyfriend, Luke Alvez — is called. Too bad he hasn't told the team about him yet...

Tags: whump, h/c, hurt spencer, broken ribs, coming out, relationship reveal, protective derek, team as family, fluff, au: different first meeting

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Spencer Reid // (heavy on the Derek & Spencer friendship, too)

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Okay, so Emily was not in S11, but for this fic she is, because I wanted supportive Penemily and that's what I gave myself. Other than that, this fills the square "broken ribs" for my Bad Things Happen bingo card. Enjoy the whump mixed with fluff!

Spencer doesn’t mean to get hurt again, but he also isn’t exactly surprised when it happens. If anything, Hotch really needs to stop sending him out to scope places and suspects out by himself. Surely Tobias Hankel proved he’s a trouble magnet in that regard years ago.

The summerhouse the suspect rents is a nice enough place to lay incapacitated while he waits for back-up, he supposes, but he’s not exactly able to lie and enjoy the sunshine when his ribs have been smashed in with a metal baseball bat and he knows the suspect is currently hightailing it down the beach. Not to mention the fact that it’s worryingly difficult to breathe.

Still, it’s better than a dilapidated cabin in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere Georgia, pumped full of heroin while his feet are whipped. Small mercies.

“Goddamnit, Spencer, again?” Derek asks amusedly when he finally arrives and crouches down by his side, but the undercurrent of worry in his voice doesn’t elude him.

“Sorry,” he wheezes, still winded and in immense pain from the ambush. “I didn’t see him coming.”

Derek raises a brow, chuckling slightly. “Yeah, pretty boy, I figured that.” His hand goes to Spencer’s hair as his expression furrows in concern again. “Did you see where he went? I’ll send the others after him while I go with you to the hospital.”

Spencer smiles a little, relieved that he won’t be alone. It’s become a strange sort of tradition to sit in one another’s hospital rooms after the job kicks their ass, and he’s glad Derek isn’t about to break it now.

“I saw him turn right out of the backdoor, but that’s all,” he says breathlessly, before cringing at the effort and folding in on himself even more.

“Okay, Spencer,” Derek says soothingly. “Just relax. The ambulance will be here any second.”

He obeys and closes his eyes as he listens to Derek call Hotch on the radio and send the team in the right direction before coming back to sit next to him on the floor.

“This might be one of the nicer places one of our unsubs has owned, huh?”

Spencer nods, mirroring Derek’s morbid amusement. “Crime pays better than investigating it,” he manages, smiling up at his friend.

He snorts. “You can say that again. With the way the market’s turned in the last couple years it’s more like this is my hobby and my properties are my day job, rather than the other way round.”

Spencer tries to reply, but he moves involuntarily in amusement, and a fresh wave of pain has him wincing again, trying to will the tears away.

“You’re alright, Spence,” Derek says gently, his hand returning to his hair. “Help will be here soon, okay?”

Thankfully, the medics do show up in a semi-timely fashion, and both of them are loaded into the back of the ambulance as the EMTs check him over, Derek’s hand not leaving his person unless it absolutely has to.

“How many times were you hit, Dr Reid?”

He cringes. “Four.” It’s almost embarrassing that the unsub got four hits in, and the only reason there weren’t more is because he was fleeing the scene, not because Spencer was able to fight back. He tries to remind himself that there isn’t much you can do when caught-off guard by a furious arsonist armed with a steel baseball bat, but his ego is still bruised. Albeit not as badly as his poor ribs.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Derek mutters under his breath, his grip tightening on Spencer’s shoulder minutely enough for him to know he isn’t doing it consciously.

Spencer smiles appreciatively, closing his eyes against the pain. The non-narcotic painkillers they’re feeding him through the IV really aren’t doing anything.

“I think you’ve managed to avoid internal bleeding,” the EMT says, all though he tacks on a pointed, “just. But I’m concerned about the possibility of a punctured lung. There’s a chance your trouble breathing is solely pain-induced, but I don’t like the way your chest sounds. The doctors will check everything out when we get to the hospital, and get you all patched up.”

“Hold in there,” Derek says urgently. “I really can’t have you dying on me, pretty boy.”

Spencer smiles as comfortingly as he can through the immense pain in his chest and his mangled breathing. “Trust me, I don’t intend on it.”

The x-ray reveals two broken ribs and confirms the paramedic’s suspicions of a punctured lung, although thankfully, minor enough to not require surgery. He’s set up with oxygen and regular nurse check-ups in a quiet room after the doctor is able to remove the excess air in his chest cavity.

“How are you doing, Spence?” Derek asks worriedly as he pulls up a chair next to Spencer’s bed as soon as he’s allowed to see him.

He pulls away his oxygen facemask to answer. “A bit better,” he says, but his voice is dry and raspy from the oxygen so he certainly doesn’t sound it. “The pain meds are actually working now.”

Derek’s tight, anxious expression relaxes slightly. “That’s at least something.”

Spencer nods tiredly, but before he can respond, a nurse is popping her head round the door. “Dr. Reid,” she says genially, “sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to let you know that we’ve managed to get a hold of your emergency contact, and they’re on their way.”

Spencer’s eyes widen. How could he have forgotten? Granted, he was a little preoccupied with the whole punctured lung, broken ribs thing, but how could he have let it slip his mind that this little accident would lead to the secret he’s been keeping under wraps getting out?

When he’d first met Luke at an FBI gala last year, he never could have foreseen the most intimate and special relationship of his life coming to fruition, but it had. They’d connected on so many different levels, and the chemistry between them felt like something out of one of the fantastical romance novels Penelope reads, and when he’d asked if it was okay for Spencer to put Luke down as his updated emergency contact, he’d been rewarded with a wide, beautiful grin and a firm, heartfelt kiss.

It was serious enough, sure, and they were coming up on having been together for a year, but besides Emily and Penelope — who’d met Luke and developed an amusing, playful rivalry with him — he hadn’t introduced him to anyone on the team.

“On their way?” Derek asks, raising an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Isn’t your contact Hotch? He already knows you’re in the hospital.”

Spencer just stares at him like a rabbit caught in the headlights, completely blanking on something to say. They’re working a local case, so it won’t be long before Luke is bursting into his hospital room armed with cuddles and comfort, and as much as he craves that, he’s too busy panicking about his team finding out to really look forward to it.

Eventually, after watching Derek’s face morph into even stronger, more suspicious confusion, he gives up. They’re going to find out anyway. “I’m dating someone.”

Derek’s face lights up. “Pretty boy!” he exclaims happily, playfully pushing his shoulder as gently as he can. “That’s amazing! Why didn’t you say something? What’s her name?”

Ah. That’s the primary reason he hadn’t told his team about Luke. He’s nowhere close to being ashamed about his sexuality, he accepted himself decades ago, but he’s still not worked up the courage to share that part of himself with his team. Excluding Penelope and Emily who have been together for years (he’s still baffled as to how the others haven’t caught on yet), everyone’s in the dark.

It had started as a basic survival tactic. He’d joined the FBI two years younger than the standard entry age in the early 2000s, and he was far too concerned with just getting by than living outwardly as a gay man. And then, as time went by and he knew his team was accepting and welcoming, he found it too awkward to try and correct people when they assumed he was straight. There just wasn’t ever the right time.

“I’m gay.”

Derek’s happy expression falls and for a split second, Spencer feels a flash of panic. Maybe Derek’s okay with gay people as long as they’re not his immediate friends, as long as he doesn’t playfully call them ‘pretty boy’ and play with their hair when they’re injured, maybe—

“Well, what’s his name, then?”

Spencer looks up from his panic, seeing Derek smiling again, eyes maybe even brighter than they were just seconds ago.

“Wait—”

“Spencer, if you think I’m gonna care that you’re gay — if you think any of us will care that you’re gay, then you have another thing coming,” Derek reassures him. “Wait, that isn’t why you didn’t tell us right?”

He suddenly looks distraught at the idea that Spencer might not have felt comfortable coming out to him, and Spencer rushes to correct him. “No! No, I know everyone would be fine with it, I just didn’t really know how to say it. Penelope and Emily know, but only by accident.”

Derek relaxes, chuckling a little. “I’m sure there’s quite a story there.”

Spencer blushes. “Maybe.”

“I’ll find out later,” he says confidently, winking at him, and something in Spencer loosens at the fact that Derek hasn’t changed his behaviour at all. “But I’m more interested in Mr. Sexy Emergency Contact Mystery Boyfriend Man right now.”

Spencer outright laughs at that, before wincing painfully as his ribs twinge, and he has to fit the oxygen mask around his face again and breathe deeply for a couple of breaths before the nasal cannula can suffice again.

“I met him around this time last year at an FBI gala actually,” Spencer manages. “Everyone on our team bailed except Penelope, Emily, and me. He’s called Luke and he works in the Fugitive Task Force. We just clicked as soon as we met, you know? We have this chemistry that I’ve never felt with anyone before, and we started dating pretty quickly. We actually moved in together last month when his lease was up, but we’re thinking of moving to a bigger, nicer place in Mount Pleasant. Luke’s actually had his eye on this one house that went up…”

He trails off when he notices Derek looking at him strangely, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “What?”

“Nothing,” Derek says gently. “You just look happy, pretty boy. When you started talking about Luke you got this happy, dopey smile on your face, and I’ve just never seen you like that. It’s nice.”

“Oh.” He blushes fiercely at the acknowledgement of just how soft he is for his boyfriend, but it’s not embarrassing, he’s just ridiculously happy and head over heels in love.

Still, feeling a little awkward at the attention, he raises the oxygen mask to his face just for something to do.

“Does he treat you well?” Derek asks seriously, suddenly looking like the FBI tough guy he really is.

Spencer grins and nods, pulling the mask away again. “So good. He’s one of those people that looks out for everyone before himself, you know? He listens to my rambles and tangents like he actually knows and cares about what I’m saying, and he insists on making me every meal we’re both home for. Every day off, he brings me breakfast in bed, and he’ll even suffer through my documentaries even though his favourite thing to watch is action movies. He’s the best boyfriend I could hope for.”

“Good,” Derek says fiercely, even though he’s smiling just a little at the thought of Spencer being taken care of. “But if anything ever changes, I won’t hesitate to—”

“Spencer?” Derek’s interrupted by the door flying over, and a very harried looking Luke Alvez rushing towards the bed, seemingly not noticing the man literally threatening his death right next to him. “Oh my God, Spencer, I was so worried, I thought—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Spencer says, voice still a little weak. Can’t he at least sound convincing when he’s trying to tell these people that he’s fine? “I’m okay, I’ll be out of here before you know it.”

“Are you sure, baby? Do I need to get the doctor? Have they been looking after you, because I swear—”

“Luke,” he laughs, interrupting his worried tangent. “I’m fine, I promise.”

He watches amusedly as Luke sags with relief. “Oh thank God,” he breathes, and it’s then that he appears to notice Derek. “Oh, shit.”

He looks to Spencer with an alarmed look in his eyes, knowing full well that he isn’t out to his team yet, but before apologies can start dripping off his lips, he rushes to fill him in.

“It’s okay. I told him.”

Luke’s face brightens in an illuminating smile, his eyes wide and happy. “You did? I’m so proud of you, cariño.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Derek says, rising from his chair to shake Luke’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you in the last ten minutes.”

Luke grins. “All good things, I hope.”

Derek winks teasingly at Spencer. “Oh, better than good. Spencer here seems quite gone for you.”

He blushes again, but Luke just sits on the edge of his hospital bed and takes his face in his hand. “Well, I’m just as gone for him as he is for me. Probably even more so.”

“No way,” Spencer protests as vehemently as he can with an oxygen mask glued to his face again. “I definitely love you more.”

His words are half swallowed by the mask, and half muffled by the gaggle of FBI agents pouring into his room, all talking over one another loudly.

Luke jumps off the bed and stands to attention as they all quieten down, three of them in complete shock, one of them — Emily, recognising Luke — in anticipation of what’s about to happen.

“Uh,” Spencer starts unsurely, eyes flicking between his boyfriend and his team. “Meet my boyfriend?”

There’s a brief pause before everyone jumps into action again: Emily greeting him warmly, JJ introducing herself, and Hotch and Rossi giving him firm, threatening handshakes as a warning that no harm is to come to their pseudo-son.

Spencer knows they don’t have to worry about that, though, not with Luke, and they’re quickly shown that when he takes his rightful place sat on the edge of his hospital bed again, hands smoothing his hair gently.

“Thank you,” he says to Derek, voice soft and sincere as everyone’s sat leisurely around the room, doing their own thing now they’re calmed down after the initial meet and greet, “for taking care of him. I worry about him, you know, and it’s good to see that he has so many good people looking after him.”

“We all do,” Derek replies, looking over at Spencer fondly. “We’re all incredibly overprotective. Residual effects from him joining the team so young, probably.”

“I can see that,” Luke smiles, looking over at Hotch and Rossi, who still have their eyes trained on him, despite having warmed up to him quickly.

“Well between us all,” Emily interjects diplomatically, “I think we have Spencer covered. He has a lot of good people looking out for him.”

Spencer knows they all think he’s asleep, but he can’t help but say something. “I definitely do,” he slurs tiredly, causing Luke to quickly turn his attention to him, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead as he runs his fingers through his hair with the hand not intertwined with Spencer’s. “Love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” Luke murmurs. “And so does everybody in this room.”

Smiling softly and feeling safe as anything, Spencer finally gives into the heavy pull of tiredness, and lets himself drift off to sleep.

I'm such a sucker for coming out fics omg, I hope you didn't mind that element! But God, I've missed writing Ralvez fics. If anyone has any Ralvez prompts then please send them my way because I want to write them so badly but I really find it hard to find plot for them! <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @spencerspecifics @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @ropoto

#my writing #ralvez #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #luke alvez #spencer reid #derek morgan #hurt spencer reid #spencer reid whump #luke alvez x spencer reid #spencer reid x luke alvez #spencer reid/luke alvez #luke alvez/spencer reid #ralvez fic #ralvez fanfic

[whumpinggrounds]

What You’re Doing Wrong

Some more of August for @febuwhump day 3: blood loss :)

Tagging super fans (lol I’m hilarious) @whumpy-writings and @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

CW: superhero whump, superhero whumpee, superhero whumper, sidekick dynamics, training whump, blood and cuts, male whumpee

“Keep going.”

Dumbfounded, August stares at Donovan. He glances down from his own leg to Donovan’s glaring green eyes and back. “Uh…Don…are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” Donovan snaps. “A scratch like that wouldn’t stop a real superhero. Would you come on? Come at me.”

Since he and Donovan are already sparring hard, August decides he’s not worried about mouthing off. “Okay, dude, you can be condescending if you want, but don’t call it a scratch. It’s not a scratch.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Don shakes his head. “You get that this isn’t an action movie. People don’t do shitty repartee. This is real life.”

“Aw, c’mon, Don, just because you can’t come up with anything witty doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

August is grinning and Donovan is rolling his eyes. “Just focus,” growls Don, and August feigns a sigh.

“You’re no fun.”

Eyes narrowing, Donovan swings his machete at August again, and the sidekick dances neatly out of the way. The gash on his upper thigh is a long one, stinging wickedly almost down to August’s knee. With all the adrenaline running through his veins, August had expected – had hoped, really, that it would be the kind of painless wound he’s heard stories about – an injury that’s hardly noticeable until the excitement dies down.

So far, August has not been lucky enough to get that kind of injury. All of his injuries hurt. A lot. What his mentor dismisses as a mere scratch is actually a broad, bleeding, footlong wound that stings like a mother. It’s distracting, skipping and hopping around the room when every movement of his leg pulls at the wound, irritates it more. He keeps making stupid mistakes – hesitating, favoring the leg, taking too long to respond. More nicks sprout up everywhere. August’s upper arms are bleeding, his forehead. There’s one thin scratch weeping a few drops of blood at a time down his front. Don catches him again, again, again. None of the cuts are as serious as the one on his thigh, but they hurt. They split August’s attention nine different ways. Every part of his body protests when he tries to respond quickly, when he tries to dodge Don’s blows. And then, and then August lands correctly, but his foot slips in the blood from his own fucking wound.

And August is on the floor, gasping. His thigh is on fire, the wind’s been knocked out of him, and Don looms above him putting the point of the machete to August’s neck. He lets it poke his apprentice, right in the soft part of his throat.

“So. What’d you do wrong?”

“W-what?”

August’s lungs are empty and starved for air, but he’s afraid to gasp, in case that makes the nick worse. The point of Don’s blade is resting right on his skin, so August takes tiny, desperate little sips of oxygen and goes cross-eyed trying to watch the weapon. He hardly has the energy to process Don’s mind games – but his mentor is implacable.

“Focus, August. What did you do wrong?”

“I…I slipped.” The words are barely audible, breathed out so as not to cause a deeper cut. “I shouldn’t have…slipped.”

“You should have watched where you were putting your feet, you mean.”

“Sure, yeah, whatever. Can you…can you take the machete off my neck?”

Glowering, Don leans closer, and the pressure on the blade increases by a hair. “’Sure, yeah, whatever?’” he repeats, sounding incensed. “Is that what this means to you? Is that how seriously you’re taking this? This could be life or death, August.”

“Yeah,” August snaps, eyes still on the shining blade. “My life or death, because you’re going to cut my fucking head off with this thing.”

“I wish,” sneers Don, though he takes a tiny amount of pressure off, letting August take a breath that’s almost deep enough. “Last chance. Tell me what you did wrong.”

“I bled,” the sidekick snarls, much too pissed off to play along with his mentor’s game. “You cut me, and I bled. That’s why I fell.”

The look on Don’s face is almost murderous, and August squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for the bigger man’s wrath. Instead, the pressure leaves his throat, and when he blinks his eyes open, nervously, he finds himself looking at Donovan’s retreating back. “Was…was that right, then?” August asks Don, not willing to let him go. “You’re really taking that as an answer?”

The look Don casts over his shoulder is withering. “No, you fucking idiot,” he scoffs. “You’re just not worth my time.”

#august the blur #febuwhump #febuwhumpday3 #febuwhump2022 #superhero whump #hero whump #hero whumpee #superhero whumpee #sidekick whump #sidekick whumpee #hero whumper #superhero whumper #blood loss #blood #cuts #sparring #fighting #male whumpee #training whump

[funnyincorrectmcu]

Saw you were doing an ask spree so I have a question! What are your ultimate favourite Marvel fanfics? (Ao3 answers preferable!)

OOOH!!! 

I ALWAYS LOVE THIS QUESTION!! But it’s also always SOO hard, because I have SO many fics that I ADORE! <3 <3 <3 

Okay okay. Since you’re asking for ultimate favorites, but since you’re also in a sense kind of asking for recommendations, I’ll do you a solid and give you a list of fifteen (which is really doing myself a solid because it means there are fewer that I have to narrow down). 

That said, if you really want my full list, go to my AO3 account and check out my bookmarks (and some of my works, if you’re interested!). Because there truly are a LOT of AMAZING writers out there. <3 <3 

Alright. Here goes nothing. 

Also, I am SO sorry this took me so long, but it took me forever to narrow down to fifteen, and even with THAT, I cheated. XD

Also also, fair warning, 95% of these are Tony and Peter centric. <3 

Also also also (lots of also’s, oops XD), I’m gonna give a little bit of info on each one for anyone interested, but PLEASE, read all tags and warnings before you actually start reading, because some of these are a little rougher than others. (Btw, when I say “major warnings”, I’m referring to AO3′s “major archive warnings” list.)

1. More Ancient Than Magic by @ironfamjam 

This is a mini Hogwarts AU that I absolutely ADORE and think about at least once a week. The way the author melds the two universes is incredible and so well done, and I quote it all the time.  One-shot, IronFam centric, featuring Ned and MJ, with special guest appearances from the other Avengers and Peter’s classmates. No major warnings. 

2. Everybody Loves Skip by @baloobird

Okay, Kris is my favorite MCU fanfic author of all time, so you’ll see her on here a couple of times. This is by far my favorite story of hers, and it’s what made me fall in love with Interwebs. <3 <3  Multichapter, Peter centric, featuring Ace!Peter and Interwebs, with special guest appearances from Tony, May, and Tracy Leeds. Minor sexual harassment/non-con, but it doesn’t get too graphic. 

3. Ohana by @jen27ny

I read this story as a part of last year’s Irondad Big Bang, and let me tell you, I was SOOO invested. I got to the point where I had to send in play by play reactions because I was so emotionally invested. The story is so well told. <3 Multichapter, Tony and Peter centric, featuring Pepperony, Spideychelle, and minor Stucky, with special guest appearances from the rest of the Avengers, HYDRA, and my fast beating heart. No major warnings. 

4. Come, My Darling, Homeward Bound by @i-am-irondad

ANOTHER Irondad Big Bang 2020 story that I became OVERLY invested in to the point that I had to send play by plays in to the author. It’s a Room AU, and she NAILS each and every one of the character dynamics. I never even saw Room, and I loved it. <3  Multichapter, Tony, Peter, and Morgan centric, featuring the rest of IronFam, Spideychelle, and adorable sibling moments, with special guest appearances from Quentin Beck and my tears. Minor implied sexual harassment/non-con. (She also has a prequel and a sequel, just so you know.) 

5. The Lightning Strike by @booksxtvxsupernatural

Yet ANOTHER Irondad Big Bang 2020 story that hit me right in the feels. This is a canon-divergent post-Infinity War fic, and the way the author shows how events could’ve transpired is so realistic and beautiful. <3  One-shot, Tony and Peter centric, featuring Harley Keener and Nebula, with special guest appearances from IronFam, May Parker, and several other Avengers. 

6. Family Doesn’t End with Blood by @baloobird

This is a series of one-shots by my girl Kris based off of the Irondad Bingo prompts, so there are a lot of different prompts and themes, but they ALL rock.  Multichapter, Tony and Peter centric, featuring Ace!Peter, IronFam, and Interwebs, with special guest appearances from several other MCU characters. Warnings vary, so pay attention to the tags and read the notes. 

7. I love you more than anything (bio dad AU) by @iron--spider

Okay, so maybe this is cheating, because it’s technically a series, but every fic in it is so good that I couldn’t possibly pick just one. I just love the whole series, because I love how the author builds their relationship. It’s so cute. <3  Series of one shots, Tony and Peter centric, featuring the rest of the Stark and Parker family and baby Peter, with special guest appearances from Obadiah Stane, James Rhodes, and Happy Hogan. No major warnings.

8. sometimes, people just die (and sometimes, they don’t) by @snarky-drabbles

This one was for the 2019 Irondad Secret Santa (huh. No wonder so many of them are Tony and Peter centric. XD), and it’s an amazing time loop story that takes place during Endgame and has an ending you might not expect, but it ROCKS.  One-shot, Tony and Peter centric from Peter’s POV, featuring Pepper Potts and Stephen Strange, with special guest appearances from a whole lot of fighting. XD 

9. A Rite of Passage by @baloobird

Another ADORABLE Interwebs from my favorite person, because she made me obsessed with this ship and now I can’t stop. XD  One-shot, Interwebs centric (wait, did I actually find one that isn’t Tony and Peter??), featuring Ace!Peter and Bi!Ned, with special guest appearances from Brad Davis, Flash Thompson, and Betty Brant. Minor sexual harassment/non-con, but nothing graphic at all. 

10. Where Dreams are Nightmares in Disguise by @baloobird

This one was actually written for me, by Kris, so obviously, it made this list. I seriously cannot thank her enough for writing this amazing fic for me based on my prompt, and for writing it so well! I LOVED IT! <3  One-shot, Tony, Peter, and Morgan centric, featuring Pepper Potts and lots of LEGOS, with a special guest appearance from a really bad dude. No major warnings. 

11. harm and foul by @iron--spider

You know, there’s a lot of Tony protecting Peter out there, but sometimes, I just really wanna see Peter protecting Tony, and this is a GREAT example of that.  One-shot, Tony and Peter centric, featuring IronFam, Ned Leeds, and bada** mofo Peter Parker, with special guest appearances from Justin Hammer and a few Avengers. No major warnings.

12. Sugar, Butter, Flour by @doctornineandthreequarters

Another one written for me, this time by the incredible Jaime for the 2019 Irondad Secret Santa, and I couldn’t have asked for anything better. She took my prompts to heart and created some BEAUTIFUL sibling bonding and I LOVE it!! <3 <3  One-shot, Peter, Harley, and Morgan centric (whoa. Another one without Tony. See? I have variety! ...kind of. XD), featuring Pepperony and adorable sibling love, with a special guest appearance from a Karen. No major warnings. 

13. Bite the Bullet by @baloobird

In case you haven’t figured it out, yet, I love you, Kris. XD <3 Another amazing ace story that gets me feeling all kinds of validated and loved. <3  One-shot, Tony and Peter centric, featuring Spideychelle, Ace!Peter, and Ace!Tony, with a special guest appearance from BFF Ned and lots of lovely ace acceptance. No major warnings. 

14. what is stronger than the human heart which shatters over and over and still lives by @lyssismagical

So, I started reading her works solely through Tumblr, and when I finally realized that she had an AO3, I went on there and bookmarked a TON of her stories immediately. This is one of her more recent ones, but it’s one of my faves, even with all the whump (being Whumptober and all). It has a positive ending, I promise.  One-shot, Tony and Peter centric, featuring amazing BFF Michelle Jones, protective Peter Parker, and adorable little sister Morgan Stark, with special guest appearances from Pepper Potts, May Parker, and a lot of family love and support. Rape/non-con, but it isn’t super graphic. 

15. Peaches by @peterparkrr

This was yet another Irondad Secret Santa 2019 fic, and while this one wasn’t written specifically for me, I freaking loved it. There’s so much tension and mystery in this, and I seriously thought I was gonna pass out reading it from all of my worry. But, luckily, it has a happy ending.  One-shot, Tony and Peter centric, featuring canon divergence and lots of references to other Avengers, with a special guest appearance from a terrible government. No major warnings.

And there’s my top 15! But, because I said I was cheating, here are two bonus fics that cannot be found on AO3. I know you prefer AO3, but trust me when I say you cannot pass these up. 

1. This fic by @loubuttons

This was posted directly to Tumblr, but I have it saved in screenshots on my phone and I re-blog it all the time because I absolutely ADORE it. I will always be down for Peter and Morgan fics, especially when Tony is involved, and this one touches my heart like no other.  One-shot, Tony, Peter, and Morgan centric, featuring protective big bro Peter Parker and Tony being an amazing parent, with special guest appearances from equally awesome Pepper Potts and May Parker. No major warnings. 

2. He’s My Intern? by losingmymindtonight (if they have a Tumblr, I don’t know it, so if anyone knows it, please find them and tell them they’re awesome)

This one was posted on FF.net, and it was actually one of the first Tony and Peter stories I ever read, and it BLEW me away. This one is another series of one-shots, but each one is filled with soft Tony and Peter moments and I love it.  Multichapter, Tony and Peter centric, featuring Happy Hogan, Bruce Banner, F.R.I.D.A.Y., and all the hurt/comfort you could possibly want, with special guest appearances from Pepper Potts, May Parker, Ned Leeds, and several other Avengers. No major warnings.  

Okaaaaay. I think that’s it?? 

Wow. That took me FOREVER. 

And I’m not even sorry, because all of these authors deserve ALL of the credit I gave them. 

Thank you so much for asking this! I hope I didn’t bore you or babble too much. XD 

All of you should definitely check out these amazing fics! They 100% deserve the praise! <3 <3 

Thanks again for asking! <3 

#asks #personal #not an incorrect quote #still mcu #fan fiction #fanfic #fanfic recs #mcu #mcu fanfic #fan fiction recommendations #mcu fan fiction

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph!! I was wondering if you knew of any really long fics (like 25k or more) that are only one chapter, I travel a lot sometimes and some places don't really have good enough internet for multi chapter fics. So yeah, any really long one chapter fics about John and Sherlock would be appreciated. Thank you!

Hey Nonny!!

LOL OKAY FUNNY STORY. I almost replied to this with “oof I’ll have to read EVERYTHING so I’m sorry.... and then... I remembered.......

I put chapter counts on everything 🙃😐 

I’m not the brightest crayon in the box. 🖍 

Anyway, so yes, I can definitely rec you some fics! BUT I should also offer you two suggestions you can totally do to read ANY fic!

On Ao3, you can click on the “Entire Work” button to load ALL chapters of a fic (it’s the very first button along the top) and in turn you can then just read it all there! 

And the very last button along the top, you can Download copies of the fic to your phone or computer with eBook file types (AZw3 for Kindle, ePub for iPhone’s Books app, and MOBI is for other mobile devices and e-readers), the HTML if you want to read it as-is in a web-browser, or the PDF format which is a universal file format that is supported by everything, even web browsers, so it’s a good one to download if you don’t know what format you need :) If you read on an eReader, though, I can’t recommend enough just downloading the format for your device. You get to keep a copy of the fic AND the eReader keeps it nicely formatted. It’s a BRILLIANT, BEAUTIFUL feature that Ao3 gave us, because I like downloading all my fics and read them later in iBooks. Once you start that, Nonny, you can’t do it any other way. AND at the VERY END of the fics, it links BACK to the original post so you can bookmark, kudos, and comment on it!! <3

So yeah, two options you can do to solve your poopy internet and still read long fics hee hee! <3

ANYWAY EXCUSE FOR A NEW LIST LOL. 

ALSO, side note, check out @silentauroriamthereal; a large chunk of her fics are both long AND one chapter, so it’s a good place to go and she’s a brilliant author so I don’t think you’ll be disappointed! <3 Plus a lot of her fics are on this list, so I am sorry hahah.

AND I wanted to make the list a bit longer than I had, so I picked fics over 20K, if that’s alright :) As always, if you wrote a 20k+ single chapter fic, let us know!

SINGLE CHAPTER FICS OVER 20K WORDS

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson’s urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Shallow Grave by SilentAuror (E, 31,672 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, HLV Fix It, Infidelity, Pining Sherlock, First Person POV Sherlock) – Starts as Sherlock's plane is taking off at the end of His Last Vow. When he finds out that Moriarty is alive and that he's being recalled from his mission, Sherlock decides that he should have told John how he felt before he left. So he walks off the plane and kisses him.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism || John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, H/C, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w., 1 Ch. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John's POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Infidelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #long fics #single chapter fics #Anonymous

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober Day 29: Emergency Room

CW: Medical whump, sick whumpee, hospital whump, brief references to past child abuse and resulting traumatic association

Immediately follows Infection and Disorientation

Chris wakes up in the middle of a sentence.

Or rather, when his brain switches back on and he is conscious on a level he can participate in, he’s already talking, and the first thing he is aware of is a woman’s face, brown-skinned and with a slightly dry smile, watching him as he is saying, “-and, and, and then I saw, um, saw towels and the, the, the colors were all wrong, so, so I fixed them.”

“Oh, did you,” The woman replies, and there is a guarded kindness in her. “That was very kind of you.” He blinks at her, his vision slowly coming into focus. Chris takes a deep breath only to wince as a hazy sort of pain ripples up his right side. She leans over, a little closer. Her hair, black and full of tightly-wound curls slips over her shoulders and forwards, just brushing her cheeks. “Are you back with us? Don’t breathe so deep yet, okay?” She tilts her head, putting a hand up to push some hair back from his face. Jake does that sometimes, and Chris turns his head to encourage the affection, closing his eyes again.

Eyes closed feels better. 

In the clinic they’re always kinder to trainees, if still brusque, businesslike, getting them in and out with bandages applied, fevers broken, internal injuries healed with rest and whatever drips down the IV to make them sleep when they have done nothing but beg for sleep since they lost themselves to the Drip.

The nurses are nicer than the handlers, and this one is talking to him and touching him but only where he wants her to, and that makes her the nicest of all.

The way the world is spinning begins to settle when his eyes are closed and she lays her hand briefly against the side of his face, and he breathes a little more easily. He must not be in trouble, if she’s allowed to be so nice.

There’s something beeping nearby, and he doesn’t like the flat white light coming from the fluorescents in the ceiling laying on exposed skin - he can feel its weight on his arms where they lay on top of the scratchy rough blanket - but at least it isn’t a cold light. 

He shivers, opening his eyes to look down at himself, blinking. There are blankets pulled up to just under his arms, pale blue and sort of rough and soft, both at once, pilling so badly he can pick the little balls of fabric off bit by bit with one hand. Normally trainees don’t get blankets in the clinic, they’re supposed to freeze here, too.

He must have been very good but hurt anyway. Sometimes the handlers just want to hurt you, even when you’re good, because your tears are beautiful, too.

Besides, 499, you wanted this - you signed up so we would make you cry, right? Give me your arm, a little half-dose of purple should get you nice and worked up for us.

He tries to obey, rolling his left arm slowly over to expose the marked-up space at the inside of his left elbow - bandages wrapped around his left wrist over his barcode crinkling - and then realizes something is on - is in - his left arm. There’s… there’s a needle in his arm already, with a thin tube that runs up to a stand on wheels with multiple bags hooked onto it, and he thinks there’s something down below his waist, too. A catheter. 

He’s been bad, then. There’s only one reason to have a needle in his elbow and a catheter in, but when he tries to panic, he’s… he’s too tired, and too dizzy, and too foggy, to feel very scared at all. Even if they are going to take him away again, it’s too late. The Drip is already in his veins and there he goes, all of him, wiped clean all over again.

The soft throb of pain along his right side, wrapped up in the gentle blanket that covers his mind, makes it clear he’s not going anywhere very fast, not today. The handlers will have to leave him alone, and that’s good, but if he’s here and on the Drip, it means he’s back again.

Back in the Facility, here to be wiped, refurbished, and sent back to Sir or to someone new… and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

He feels his throat closing against helplessness - no, he was rescued, he was rescued and they said he’d never go back… they swore, they promised, Jake and Nat promised they wouldn’t let him go back, Jake would have fought them, he would have done something-

Tears flood Chris’s eyes and he hitches in a breath on a whimper. Jake must have gotten too hurt to save him. He must have, he might even be dead-

If it weren’t for you, she’d still be alive-

“Hey, hey, come on now.” The soft female voice is closer now, and her hand is back on his face, up to run back through his hair as he sniffles, coughs, winces as the dull pain sharpens briefly and then fades again. “It’s okay, you’re okay. It’s just the hospital, yeah? Your appendix ruptured, you had to come here in an ambulance, had some pretty serious surgery. Can you remember that?”

His eyes manage to open, blurred through his tears, and he looks at her. She’s not wearing the uniforms that handlers or even the nurses wear, but a softly floral scrub top and plain navy pants. Her smile is different than any nurse’s in the clinic that he’s ever seen. She’s looking at him, not through him. 

“I d-don’t know where, where, where I am,” He whispers, and she nods, her smile still in place.

“I know. That’s why I’m the one sitting here with you right now. You’re in the county hospital. You’re okay, Chris.”

Not 223499, but Chris.

He reaches back into his own mind and finds the train track that Jake and Nat are on, remembers their faces, their names, the way it feels when they hold him. He brings up the memory of Jake pulling his shirt off, handing it to Chris, whispering, I’ll come back, I promise.

He remembers Jake carrying him up the stairs three days later.

Chris holds, for a moment, the memory of Jake looking at him as they loaded him onto the plastic-backed bed-thing in the ambulance. He can remember, clearly, Jake's voice. We’ll be right behind you, Chris. I swear to God I’ll be there. I promise you, buddy, we’ll bring you back home.

He’s awake.

Jake isn’t here.

“Um, J-Jake, my, my… my…” Chris shakes his head, like a dog shaking off water. What had Nat been saying, before the ambulance came? Talking to Jake, the two of them, going over their story. His name is Christopher Stanton. He’s my little brother, and he’s autistic. “My, my, my my my brother, my-... he p-promised, where’s-... need my, my, my brother-”

“I texted Yoder when you started talking,” The woman says gently. “They’ll be up to see you in just a minute, okay?”

He tries to believe her.

There’s a fog in his thoughts and the trains are all running, but slow, finding their way, winding around the gray clouds in his head. “I, I was talking already,” Chris whispers. “Even… though I wasn’t, um, awake.”

His throat feels a little scratchy and rough, like someone shoved something down there, but the agonizing pain he’d been in - the sharp ache that had been a knife shredding him to nothing again and again and again - is gone. In its place there’s a duller throb, and the sense of floating inside a very nice fog. Like the fog he hates, but… better, somehow, too.

“I was… was asleep, and now… ‘m talking, but, but I was still, um, asleep, and… and and and… and talking…”

“Yes, that happens. It’s coming out of sedation, you kind of wake up before you really wake up, you know? I’ve done this before, and you know, I had someone once who… came back to himself in the middle of telling me about a margarita recipe he used to make for his girlfriend. He didn’t remember it any longer when he was awake. That’s the fun of recovery, I hear all kinds of things when I’m with someone. My wife proposed to me in recovery from her own surgery, you know. She doesn’t remember it at all.”

“You… you you you said yes?” Chris looks back at her. He can focus his eyes again, and the look of her is nice. Soft, but like she’s had to be hard before. Like Nat looks, sometimes, only Nat doesn’t have a wife, or anyone at all but… but Jake, just like everyone else has Jake to help. 

He moves his right hand, gingerly - he can feel the thick bandage wrapped around his left, and is never less than terribly aware of the needle in his elbow - and she takes it in both of hers. 

Her hands are cool, and dry. He smiles, faintly, and lets his head fall back against a flat pillow behind him. There’s a window to his left, three panes of glass, and outside, when he turns his head, he can see some trees, a courtyard. Birds hopping around the branches, but he can’t quite see what kind they are.

The woman squeezes his hand lightly. Chris takes a breath. This isn’t the clinic, because there are no windows at WRU. You’re never allowed to see outside, not until your owner is ready for you, not until you are good enough to go home.

Going outside is a privilege a pet has to earn.

This… this must be what an actual hospital looks like. He’s seen them on TV, sometimes. The TV ones didn’t really look much like this.

The woman keeps his hand in one of hers and uses the other to check her phone. “Oh, I made her ask again when she was all the way conscious, but yes.”

“That’s, that’s that’s nice. I’m Chris.” His voice is low, and shy, and he doesn’t see her nod - he doesn’t want to stop looking out the window at the clear morning sky - but he can kind of feel it, anyway.

“I know, sweetheart. Your family will be here any second, but they wanted you to have someone when you woke up, so I’m kind of sitting in for them for a bit. Don’t worry, they’re on their way.”

“Jake-”

“Yes, I’m told there’s a man named Jake and, you know, I know Yoder pretty well by now.”

“Why… why, why why why do y’call… Nat? Yoder?”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know. Just always have. Used to be we weren’t allowed to know each other’s first names, so I guess the habit stuck. How are you feeling?”

“Um. Weird. Am, am, am I… give m’drugs?” Fear hits, again, but it’s faded, a shadow of itself. He shifts his left arm and feels tape pull against the skin inside his elbow, looks at the tubing that runs from the needle up to a bag hanging on a metal stand. There’s a machine, too, that shows numbers he doesn’t understand. His eyebrows furrow. “Was I… bad?”

“No, sweetie, no. No. You just had to have surgery, and you have to be knocked out for that.” The woman pats his hand again, and Chris tries to relax himself. There’s a window, and if there’s a window, he’s not going back. He recites the differences like an incantation. Like a chant. Like a prayer, to keep him safe, as long as he does everything just right.

There’s a window, and so he can’t be going back. He can see outside, the sky and the sun, and so he’s not going back. There’s kindness here, compassion and warmth, and so he isn’t going back. His wrists and ankles aren’t strapped down to the bed, so he’s not going back. Her hand holds his but it doesn’t touch him anywhere he doesn’t want, so he’s not going back. “Do you know what an appendix is, Christopher?”

Chris looks back at her. She has a nice face, and warm eyes, and calls him a name and not a number, so he’s not going back.

He can remember Jake, so he’s not going back.

Jake will come find him, and he’s not going back.

“No, ma’am,” He says, softly.

She laughs, and he likes the sound of her laughing, shaking her head, her curls moving with her. “Not a ma’am, thanks. I appreciate the politeness, though. I just don’t like being ‘ma’am’d, I’m not quite that old yet, now am I?”

“Where… where, where where where Jake is from, you c-call… everybody sir or, or ma’am, if you’re… if you’re raised right.” He tries to put the hint of sarcasm, dry and cynical, that Jake always has when he says it, but it doesn’t work for him. He can tell it doesn’t quite sound the same. He is floating, in this warmly lit room, watching the sky change from grayish-pink to purplish and finally to a pale blue, going cooler and deeper at the top.

The sun is rising, warm, to wash away the cold light.

“Well, that’s not where I’m from. In any case, your appendix is this little doohickey right there along your right side, and yours got infected. So Yoder-... well, Nat, I guess - called a mutual friend of ours-”

“Am-... ambulance,” Chris whispers, thinking of the two people, moving around him. His memories are faded and terrified and full of pain, but he thinks of the gloved hand on his shoulder, the hint of a brusque, calm reassurance, cool focused expression and clear brown eyes. “Finn.”

“Right. That’d be my friend. Then you weren’t feeling super great when we got you here, your appendix burst and you sure gave Mandela a job to do cleaning out that infection, huh? Finn stuck around to help out with that, they trained as an Army medic. Did they tell you that?”

Chris just blinks at her, and slowly shakes his head.

“Yeah, way back. Signed up right out of high school, dealt with some scary shit when things got tense at the Canadian border when Canada started taking runaways… anyway, they’re good in a pinch, but so am I, I guess.” She shrugs. “We can’t trust everybody, so… they helped us get you stable, and then we got you in and out of that OR. Just between us, though? Can you keep a secret?”

Chris blinks twice, then slowly nods.

“Good. Just between us, I think they stuck around because they took a shine to you. Anyway, now you’re hooked up-... let’s see, they said you wouldn’t like the IVs, so let me tell you, it’s something for your pain and a literal ton of antibiotics, that’s all.”

“An, antibiotics-... for the, um, the the infection?”

“Right. That’s all it is, I promise, antibiotics and something to make sure your incision doesn’t hurt too badly. Mandela knows her work, you should be able to leave in the next few days. Mandela’s kind of an arrogant blowhard, but she’s also maybe the second-best surgeon I’ve ever met and she’s, you know, safe… for you. Lucky for us she was meeting someone at that Starbucks across from the hospital, huh?” 

“... lucky, lucky for us,” Chris repeats, just to show he’s listening, but he doesn’t quite understand what he’s being told. He could, he thinks, if he could just wake all the way up, but the hint of fog makes the connections a little more difficult, more of a struggle. “Um, can, can I, can I ask-... are you… Tori?”

The woman blinks, and then laughs again, and Chris smiles faintly in return. He wants her to laugh again and again, it’s a nice laugh, it changes the light inside the hospital room when she laughs like that. Makes it brighter, more like sunshine and less like a cold white room with a door he can’t open.

He wonders if her wife makes her laugh.

“Oh, Finn got chatty in the ambulance, hm? Well-”

There are footsteps, and the woman turns before she can answer his question.

“Let’s see… 210, 212… 214… here it is, 216, this should be it. Jake, damn it, knock first-”

The door opens with a hard jerk of the knob, and Chris looks to the doorway. He knows the bit of blond hair before he sees the face it belongs to. The fog inside his head is familiar, but it hasn’t taken anything away from him. 

They didn’t take Jake away.

He lets go of the woman and a smile stretches across his face. The throb of pain is gone, it can’t hold together under the weight of the warmth inside him. “Jake!”

Jake moves through the doorway, eyes on Chris, the bright blue focused and intense, shadowed from lack of sleep. His hair mussed, and he’s still wearing the clothing Chris saw him in last, rumpled. He drops a backpack on the floor as he moves, and he doesn’t even seem to realize he’s done it. Nat appears behind him, her braid half-undone, circles under her eyes dug in even more deeply than the ones under Jake’s.

Jake leans over him, one knee up on the bed. “Hey, buddy.”

“Hi, hi, hi, um, hi-... h-hi, Jake.” He holds out one hand. “Um, can you, could, could you please-”

“Oh, Christ, be careful, he just had surgery!” 

The woman’s warning is lost, because Jake is already hugging him. 

Warm, strong arms around him, and he tucks his head right under Jake’s chin and breathes in the familiar smell of him, deodorant and cologne and the laundry-smell from his shirt, the skin-smell of Jake underneath all of it. The simplest way to anchor himself, the greatest certainty he has that he isn’t going back, because Jake is here, and Jake would never let anyone take him away, not ever again.

“There were people having a fucking pizza party in the ER waiting area while you were in surgery, I thought I’d kill them with my bare hands if I had to listen to it any longer. Who the fuck orders fucking delivery pizza at the ER?” Jake’s voice is cracking, and Chris hums, twisting his right hand into Jake’s shirt, twist-and-release, then finger-twist-tap-tap-tap, and it’s solid and real and the sun is so pretty outside the window.

“Sorry I, I, I, I didn’t tell you I was, um, was sick,” Chris whispers.

“Sorry I didn’t know without you having to tell me,” Jake whispers back. “I hate hospitals, little man, you have no idea how much I hate having to tell lies in a hospital again. Fuck, I hate hospitals so fucking much.”

“Me, me, me me me, me too, but, um, but it’s okay with you here. It’s okay. It’s, it’s not-”

“It’s not the same,” Jake says softly. 

“Right. Not, not, not the same. I’m, I’m, I’m not, not, not, um, not going… going back.”

“Never, Chris. Not ever. Letting you go in that ambulance without me is the second-hardest thing I’ve ever fucking done,” Jake whispers, and tears build in Chris’s eyes as he buries himself against Jake’s neck, his hands making short, jerky little flapping motions as he struggles to keep the feelings inside him from overwhelming his ability to speak.

“What, what, what was, was the hardest?”

“What?”

“What’s, um, what’s… what’s the, the, the… the-the hardest thing? You’ve, you’ve ever, um… ever done?"

Jake’s breath hitches, and there are tears in his voice as he holds on tight. “Sitting in fucking limbo knowing I couldn’t be the one to help you.”

Chris swallows back a twist inside his heart. “Y-yeah?”

“Yeah, just… having to be stuck outside while someone else did all that shit that it feels like I’m supposed to do.”

There’s a sudden rustle at the window, and Chris turns his head just enough to see a flutter of red wings disappear down towards the courtyard below.

---

Tori belongs to @whump-tr0pes and is used with permission and great love

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

#whumptober2020 #no. 29 #emergency room #sick whumpee #hospital whump #medical whump #conditioning #trauma recovery #trauma recovery whump #recovering whumpee #surgery reference #brief child abuse reference #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jake the shelter guy #found family #listen let me have my heavy-handed touches okay.

[actress4him]

Querencia 2 - Abandoned

(Prompt #4 for Summer of Whump)

Taglist: @darthsutrich

Previous | Next

Warnings: lady whumpee, teenage whumpee, mild blood, fantastic prejudice (for lack of a better term??), parental abandonment, foster system

.

.

Some people’s powers manifest when they hit puberty. Others when they face a traumatic event, whether they’re a child or an adult.

Liliana isn’t really sure precisely when hers started, but she’s fourteen when she discovers what she can do. It’s a normal day at school, she’s hanging out with her friend Camila on the playground during recess, unaware that her life is about to change. Then Camila falls off the monkey bars and scrapes her elbow.

As she begins to cry, blood beading up around the torn skin, Liliana rushes to her and takes the injured elbow in her hands. Suddenly there’s some kind of blue aura dancing between the two girls’ skin. Gasping, Liliana lets go and falls back, but it’s too late. Camila is staring at her with impossibly wide eyes, cradling an elbow with only a bit of blood as evidence that it was ever hurt, and Liliana’s own elbow is smarting. She can hardly pay that any mind, though, not with her thoughts swirling around what she just saw.

Because she’s one of them. She’s a Non.

She’d been young when people with strange powers started popping up on the news all of a sudden, so she doesn’t know where the slang term came from. All she knows is that Nons aren’t to be trusted. Her father has said so, many a time over the dinner table. Her mother watches the news stories about Nons with a hand over her heart, frightened.

Camila’s mouth gapes open. “You...you’re…”

“Don’t, please.” She shakes her head frantically, tears stinging her eyes. “No lo sabia, I swear, Mila, por favor no...you can’t tell anyone.”

Her friend’s eyes are wide, uncertain. She looks from her own elbow, to Liliana’s hands, to her face. “Okay. Está bien, no lo haré. No se lo diré a nadie. I promise.”

And she keeps her promise. Camila never breathes a word of Liliana’s newfound powers to anyone, and Liliana makes sure not to touch anyone who’s hurt for a very long time.

Or at least she tries.

One time she touches her brother’s forehead when he’s sick, and he makes a ‘miraculous’ recovery. She, on the other hand ‘catches’ his cold, only she never actually runs a fever or needs to blow her nose. She just feels sick.

Thankfully no one suspects.

Another time she bumps into someone in the grocery store and hisses as her arm begins to throb. At home, she pushes up her sleeve to find out what’s wrong and sees nothing. Just her skin, smooth and brown as always. It feels like there’s a giant purple bruise there, though, the pain much worse when she brushes a finger across it.

Accidents happen. Liliana takes to wearing shirts with sleeves long enough to pull over her hands, no matter what the weather, to try to further avoid contact. She’d wear gloves all the time if that wasn’t sure to raise questions.

And all the while, the foreboding news about the Nons continues.

A Non robbed a bank. A Non killed three people. A Non cut off the electricity to an entire city.

She’s convinced that she’s the only good person with powers in the world. And her power could be so helpful for so many people, too, if only she was free to use it. Sure, it seems to transfer pain and sickness directly to her, but it never lasts. Even the scar that she got from Camila faded after a while, about the same time she stopped noticing it on her friend’s elbow, too. It’s possible that she could save people’s lives, rather than threatening them like all the other Nons seem to do.

Liliana manages to keep her secret for over a year before everything falls apart.

Her whole family is at the neighborhood’s Fourth of July celebration. Her mother is introducing her to Mrs. Bently, an elderly woman with kind blue eyes and wrinkled, gnarled hands. One of those hands is reaching for hers, and Liliana is frozen, wanting to pull away, afraid of what it will look like if she does, knowing somehow without a doubt that she cannot let this lady touch her hand, but unable to figure out how to stop it before it’s happening. The small white hand is clasped around her own. Liliana’s wearing long sleeves, as usual, despite the heat of July, but that doesn’t keep her fingertips from sticking out and touching skin.

She doesn’t dare to look down. She can feel the power going out of her, can hardly bite back a gasp as her fingers stiffen and begin to ache. But there’s still a smile on Mrs. Bently’s face, she hasn’t looked down, either, hasn’t seemed to notice. Maybe she can get away with this one more time, maybe her luck will continue and no one will know…

A strangled sound comes from somewhere to her right, and she remembers. Mamá is watching.

Don’t look don’t look don’t look she might not have seen she might not know if you look she’ll know she’ll see it on your face

Mrs. Bently’s friendly smile fades into a frown. Releasing Liliana’s hand, she brings her own hand up to look at it, flexing her fingers in a way that Liliana knows she can’t do herself right now.

“That’s...that’s so strange. My hand...it…” She laughs, incredulously, and Liliana wants to laugh with her, anything to break through the fear that’s pounding in her eardrums, but all she can do is pull her sleeve farther down to hide her aching fingers, pull until the shirt is threatening to fall off her shoulder. “It’s almost like when you touched my hand, my arthritis just...disappeared.” Another short laugh, and she reaches the same hand up to softly pat Liliana’s cheek. “Either I’m finally starting to lose my mind, or...or maybe you’re an angel sent to help an old woman.”

Another strange noise from the right, and Liliana finally gives in and looks.The expression that she sees is exactly what she feared. Mamá knows.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. All she’s aware of is that she’s bundled quickly into the car, harried excuses are made to friends, and she spends the evening in her room, hiding underneath the covers.

She doesn’t know what her parents are thinking right now. Are they mad? Disappointed? Scared?

“Anyone who says not all Nons are bad is an idiot,” Papá’s voice echoes in her mind. “An idiot who clearly isn’t keeping up with what’s going on in the world. None of them can be trusted. They all need to be rounded up and locked away for good.”

Liliana buries her head further and tries desperately to let sleep take her away from her worries.

The next morning someone knocks on her bedroom door. It isn’t locked, so she sits up quickly, combing her fingers through her mussed up hair - the fingers of her left hand, after she discovers that those on her right aren’t fond of the motion - and tries to rub away the restless night of tears from her face. “Come in.”

It isn’t her mother, father, or even her brother who enters. It’s a stranger, a tall, thin woman with her blonde hair pulled back into a severe bun. Liliana bolts upright, heart thumping wildly.

“¿Quién eres?”

“You need to pack your things.”

Shaking, Liliana attempts to back away, her thighs quickly bumping into the mattress. “What? Why?”

The woman sighs, pursing her lips, though it’s unclear whether she’s actually sympathetic or she’s just aggravated that whatever this is about hasn’t been explained yet. “Your parents have turned you over to the care of the state. I’m here to escort you to your new home.”

Liliana’s mind goes blank other than a high-pitched screeching in her ears. The woman is saying something else, she thinks, but nothing is processing. Finally she finds her voice enough to murmur, “No, no no no no no, that can’t...que no puede ser cierto, that’s...that’s not right, they wouldn’t...they can’t…”

The next thing she knows she’s pushing past the woman, ignoring whatever protests she’s giving. The house is quiet. Too quiet. There’s no music coming from her brother’s room, no pots and pans clanging in the kitchen, no tv incessantly blaring the news. But she searches each corner of the downstairs anyway, still hoping that she’ll find someone in her family who will tell her that this is all a mistake, a nightmare, maybe, that they would never, ever, send her away just because of something that she can’t control, that she would never use for anything but good.

She approaches the front door and it opens suddenly, letting in yet another stranger, a broad-shouldered man who just stands there, blocking the exit. “I’m going to have to ask you to follow the lady back upstairs and do what she says.”

The blonde woman appears behind her, at the foot of the stairs. “Your parents aren’t here. Everyone knows that Nons can be...volatile. It’s generally best if the family isn’t present when they’re taken into custody.”

Tears finally begin pouring down Liliana’s cheeks. “But I’m not, I’m not, I swear...I’ve never...I wouldn’t hurt anyone! My power is healing, anyway, I don’t…” Her babbling trails off, lost in the tornado of her thoughts.

Her family really called the government on her and...and left her.

They never even asked her any questions.

They didn’t try to find out what was going on, didn’t ask what her powers could do, weren’t concerned about the fact that she apparently has arthritis now, at the age of fifteen.

The fact that she’s their daughter, that they raised themselves and that they know, means nothing to them. She doesn’t even get the benefit of the doubt.

The blonde woman plasters a fake smile onto her face. “I know, sweetie. I’m sure you wouldn’t. But I’m afraid there are rules in place that have to be followed in cases like this.”

She doesn’t really have a choice. Between the two of them, they have her trapped, and what’s her alternative, anyway? Stay here and wait for a family that doesn’t want her anymore? Live her life with them always watching her, always distrusting, always waiting for her to snap and turn evil like the Non she is?

Liliana follows the woman back up the stairs and throws a few belongings into a backpack. She’s numb, moving on autopilot, no idea what she should actually be bringing. It feels like she’s packing for a weekend trip, not for the rest of her life.

The tears never stop the whole time.

As she’s escorted out to the black sedan waiting in the driveway, she swears she sees a glimpse of her parents’ car across the street. The driver is staring straight ahead, refusing to look this way, but the woman in the passenger’s seat’s cheeks glisten.

It’s probably just her imagination, though.

.

.

Spanish translations (please please let me know if I got something wrong):

“No lo sabia, I swear, Mila, por favor no...” - I didn’t know, I swear, Mila, please don’t...”

“Está bien, no lo haré. No se lo diré a nadie.” - Okay, I won’t. I won’t tell anyone.

“¿Quién eres?” - who are you?

“que no puede ser cierto” - that can’t be true

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump4 #abandoned #querencia #liliana the healer #lady whumpee #lady whump #teenage whumpee #backstory #mild blood tw #parental abandonment tw #foster system #prejudice tw #magical whumpee #magic powers #healing power #painful healing

[jolinarjackson]

Hey! Do you have any irondad fic recs? I just started reading Peter and Tony fics again and I would love any recs you have!

Hello!

Yes, I do! :D It's by no means complete because I am still busy compiling, but I have quite a few already.

For all the below stories, please heed the tags and warnings on AO3. And of course, feel also free to check out my stories. :)

My AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JolinarJackson/works

The below fics are not compiled in any particular order.

If I Die Young by MusicalLuna

Summary: Tony and Steve are trying to keep their little boy (who's not so little anymore) out of the superhero business for as long as possible, but when a kid's as stubborn as Peter is, they can't always stop him.

And sometimes things go wrong. Really, really wrong.

Categories: Superfamily, Not MCU!Peter Parker

Comment: This is a wonderful whump story that I go back to again and again.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423790

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Lightning in a Bottle by Gruoch

Summary: Peter takes the tablet and looks down at the screen, where a picture of Spider-Man intimately entangled in a passionate embrace with Johnny Storm is displayed across the majority of the Daily Bugle’s home page. TORCH CAUGHT IN SPIDER-MAN’S WEB, the headline reads, bracketed by spider and flame emojis. Peter looks back up at Tony, who is still staring at him completely stone-faced.

Tony reaches across the island and taps the screen. “So. What do you have to say about that?”

“Well. For one, I’m a little disappointed with the headline,” Peter offers.

Tony lets his chin drop against his chest, momentarily defeated, before taking a deep breath and once more skewering Peter with a hard look. “You could have at least given me some warning that the two of you are...I mean, I had my suspicions, but—”

“You’re misconstruing the situation. Spider-Man and the Torch are dating,” Peter explains. “Johnny and I are just friends.”

“Boy, you’re really leaning hard into this whole alter ego thing, aren’t you?” Tony deadpans. “How’s that working out for you?”

Categories: Irondad, SpideyTorch

Comment: I love stories taking advantage of the havoc that secret superhero identities can wreak on romantic relationships. The best about this particular story is the witty writing, which makes Peter being a chaotic mess in this even better.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23413219

-----

The doubts that complicate by @frostysunflowers

Summary: "But he’s smart!" May had blurted, looking up at the teacher with misplaced anger. "I don’t...how does this make sense?"

She was worried, unaware, unprepared, not like Peter who had known for a while that some things were trickier for him than other kids. All the rules hidden in cheerful little rhymes and singing songs about which letters get along and those who don’t play nice; all the robotic reciting of the alphabet nearly every day: none of it had ever truly helped Peter understand how it all worked.

A brand new door opened in his life that day. On the front of it, the word ‘DYSLEXIC’ was printed in bold, the certainty of what it meant holding the letters permanently in place.

or

Nobody ever said being smart was easy.

Categories: Irondad

Comment: This is a wonderful read. @frostysunflowers manages to describe dyslexia in a way that makes the struggle understandable. The relationship between Tony and Peter is heart-warming. This is a great read if you're in the mood for something that is not too long and still want a good dosage of H/C.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989531

-----

Accepting the Tides by Emma_Anacortes

Summary: Tony had dragged Peter from the depths of despair after May's death. It was normal that he'd grown to care a little about him, right?

Yeah, okay. He freaking loved the kid.

So naturally he would feel a little weird when Richard Parker randomly shows up in Peter's life. Naturally he'd feel protective, nervous, and confused because where has Richard been all this time? And why does Tony feel sick every time he sees him around Peter?

All he knows is if Richard hurts his kid, Tony's gonna give him hell.

Categories: Irondad, Steve & Peter

Comment: This story is intense, no doubt about it. Please heed all the warnings and tags carefully. However, if you give it a try, it's so worth it. This story presents a different backstory to the relationship of Peter and his parents (especially his father) while exploring Peter and Tony forging a father/son-bond in the wake of May's death. I have to say that the the relationship between Peter and Steve in this story is just as prominent and amazingly written. I loved every second of it.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11885844/chapters/26843274

-----

with arms wide open by @parkrstark

Summary: Tony and Pepper are expecting a baby and Peter may be the one most excited...just maybe…

Categories: Irondad, Pepperony

Comment: This is undeniably cute and heart-warming: Tony and Pepper get pregnant and Peter is right there with them, freaking out. Peter spends this story preparing to become a big brother while still being unsure about whether this is the role he is going to fulfill in the baby's life. This stoy focsses on the found family that is Tony, Pepper and Peter, but there are wonderful interactions with May, Rhodey and Happy as well.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14540409

-----

the stars the moon they have all been blown out (you left me in the dark) by @madasthesea

Summary: It starts off with his vision fading in and out.

What kind of demon drug can make someone go blind by inhaling a single lungful? Whatever it is, Tony doubts it’s reversible. And while Peter’s no idiot, he can be idiotically optimistic. He's determined to fix what appears to be unfixable.

Categories: Irondad

Comment: This story is experienced entirely from Tony's point of view, which make the effects of the drug and his reaction to it all the more poignant. Tony's relationship to Peter is especially highlighted in this story. You can only imagine the worry and pain Peter geos through unil the very end of the story and the pay-off is worth it. I want to highlight the way that Tony's experiecne of the effects of the drug are described here, because I thought that was superb writing and put the reader righ in Tony's shoes.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15795141/chapters/36757500

-----

turn back the clock (and I'll try again in the morning) by @madasthesea

Summary: Peter gets stuck in a time loop. In it, he lives through some of his worst nightmares, only to wake up that morning and have no one remember. He needs Tony to help him get through.

And if that isn't bad enough, his identity is revealed over and over, every day.

Categories: Irondad

Comment: This story is just SO GOOD. Not only is Peter experiencing the same day over and over again and his identity is revealed, but the way it happens also gets more and more taxing and gruesome. This story has emotional highpoints that are written fantastically and the Irondad in this is just heart-warming.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023177/chapters/42585071

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How The Mighty Fall by Meep_Morp

Summary: Since his duel against Toomes on Coney Island, Peter's life has settled down considerably. May knows about his double life and accepts it (mostly). Tony has welcomed him back, and given him more independence as New York's Spider-Man.

One night during patrol he crosses paths with Connor, a teenager who has Extremis in his blood and answers to the wrong kind of people. Though Tony is quick to distrust him, Peter finds himself reluctant to follow his mentor's lead, and a bond develops between the two boys. Their relationship is further complicated when Connor's former master, Negative, makes it a personal mission to destroy them both in his quest for power.

Taking down a superpowered psychopath? Tough, but Peter isn't going to back down.

Stopping Tony from blasting his first potential boyfriend into space? He might need a miracle for that.

Categories: Irondad

Comment: This story is so intricately plotted and just a joy to read. The characters are written to perfection and this includes an absolutely fantastic and fleshed-out OC who, as a reader, you come to care about easily and quickly. Much more subtle is the relationship between Peter and Tony in this fic but every single scene is on-point. I have read and re-read this story several times and it is hard to put aside once you start.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18084407/chapters/42745826

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Project Pride by TheSleepingOwl

Summary: In hindsight, it should have been obvious. The signs were all there, unwittingly scattered by Peter like breadcrumbs for Tony to follow—the way he would fall into uncomfortable silence when the topic of dating came up, or become flustered whenever Tony teased him about the mysterious Michelle-Call-Me-MJ character Peter was constantly gushing about, or deflect Tony’s mostly-joking inquiries into whether or not they needed to be having The Talk with a hurricane of splutters and blushes.

And even without the signs, Peter was still his kid. Tony was just supposed to know these things.

So when FRIDAY pulled up Peter’s search history—‘how can i make myself not like boys,’ ‘can you force yourself to be attracted to girls,’ ‘how to stop your friends from knowing youre gay,’ and, most devastating, ‘how can i keep my parents from finding out im gay’—Tony wasn’t surprised so much as deeply, unquantifiably ashamed. Because he should have known.

Categories: Irondad

Comment: This story is an incredibly written POV of Tony coming to terms with Peter's sexuality. It's achingly realistic in the way Tony struggles to connect to Peter, knowing that he's gay. Additionally, this story has a hefty doese of Hurt/Comfort thrown in that hurts when reading it. This is a gem.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135138/chapters/52834021

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Birds Eating Other Birds by aloneintherain

Summary: Peter wishes he hadn’t gotten out of bed that morning. Then, maybe, he wouldn’t be reduced to this - limp-crawling through the rabbit burrows that is Oscorp Tower, a monster of a man on his heels, bloody and bruised and choking on a panic attack.

Categories: Irondad, not MCU!Peter Parker

Comment: I love aloneintherain's stories. I read them when I first got into Avengers fanfic and the way they write dynamics is great. This one is intense and the way it's written sucks you right into it. Norman Osborn is so evil and creepy in this one. Part one is mainly hurt, but stick around for the comfort in part 2!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7626433

----- And here are some Avengers team dynamic fics as well -----

It Was Probably The Pudding by Serendipity_Cometh

Summary: Given that over the course of the past eleven months Peter Parker hasn't contracted so much as a head-cold, the teenager thought it safe to assume that the whole 'irradiated spider bite' gig had equipped him with an immune system of steel that rivalled Captain America's.

So when he wakes up one night in the midst of the worst asthma attack he's suffered in almost eight years, neither he nor the rest of the team can think of a logical explanation.

And everything sort of goes downhill from there.

Categories: Team, Stony, Clint/Phil, not MCU!Peter Parker

Comment: When I started out reading Avengers fanfictions, I stumbled across this one and go back to it on a regular basis. Lots of whump and great team dynamics.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953538/chapters/1865305

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In the Home by aloneintherain

Summary: The Avengers have been infected, turned violent and aggressive against their will. And Peter, the only one unaffected, is trapped inside the Tower with six feral teammates.

“Natasha,” Peter says cautiously, “what happened here? Steve attacked me, and if there was ever a sign that something was wrong, it’s having the embodiment of Truth, Justice, and the American Way throw you across the room -”

Natasha comes closer, her stride controlled. Nothing necessarily out of the ordinary, but there’s something in her face, in her eyes -

Natasha lunges across the space, and slams into Peter, hard.

Categories: Team, not MCU!Peter Parker

Comment: One of my very early reads when I started out in the Avengers fandom. Excellent whump, hurt/comfort and team dynamics.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5388563/chapters/12446069

-----

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces) by aloneintherain

Summary: Peter's trapped beneath a collapsed building during a mission, hurt and unable to move. Luckily, his comm still works. Unluckily, the Avengers don’t realise how bad of a state Peter is in, and Peter isn’t inclined to tell them.

“Spidey, they’ve got reinforcements. We’ve hit a bit of a snag here, and I don’t think anyone will be able to help you for a while. Think you can sit tight while we deal with this?”

The pressure on his lower back and legs was becoming too much. Peter swallowed thickly, fighting down panic. He could handle this.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “I can do that.”

Categories: Team, not MCU!Peter Parker

Comment: There are so many "Peter trapped under a building"-stories out there but this is the one I read first and it stuck with me. Loved the team dynamic in this.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4232937

[eugene-not-flynn]

chanteur depths

title: chanteur depths

word count: 1762

Warnings: drowning and peril (or the belief that someone is), siren-like creatures, eugene cries, almost throwing yourself overboard, Varian angst/emotional whump, Eugene angst/emotional whump, unedited. 

Summary: Eugene had heard rumors and stories. None of them prepared him for what he’d hear sailing through the Chanteur Depths. He has a strong will. He also has a breaking point. Eugene-centric New Dream fic (with some platonic Team Awesome + Lance content in the beginning). 

A/N: this was supposed to be a short textpost and then my brain went “hey, lets make it a fic right this very moment”. So have this. I wrote it in one sitting in an unexpected burst of inspiration and did not edit it. I may go back and edit it, but that day was not today. Hope you enjoy it anyway! 

--

The wood of the ship creaks with the waves, and Eugene squints up at the darkening sky. Slate gray clouds block the early evening sun from view so effectively it’s nearly dark, and the ship tilts with the crest of an angry wave. Eugene’s hands tighten around the rope he’s holding to keep the sail steady, his gut rolling with discomfort.

He was not a sailor by trade, but he’d been on a ship or two in his lifetime. By his best calculations, he knew they had to be approaching the Chanteur Depths and the thought makes his stomach squirm. The rumors and stories he’d heard all those years ago had been enough to make his skin crawl. Eugene wasn’t much for superstition, but he knew enough about reading people to tell, most of the time, when someone was making something up.

The haunted, shaken look in those sailors’ eyes hadn’t been fabricated.

They draw you in, kid, one sailor had told him years before he’d met Rapunzel. She’d looked a little green as she’d said it. You think your will is strong but then you sail into Chanteur Depths and… well. I’ll never forget those sounds.

When Varian mentioned needing a rare mineral that could only be found, based on his extensive research, on in island just past the Chanteur Depths, Eugene had actually laughed. It was just their luck, really. Eugene had explained what he knew, and Varian and Rapunzel had set to work on pursuing their own research. There wasn’t much information about the Chanteur Depths, and it didn’t take them long to learn it was because few ever come back from it. Still, despite this, they set off together with Lance in tow.

Eugene was beginning to wonder if maybe it was a huge mistake. It didn’t matter though. It was too late to turn back now.

They had agreed to plug their ears with wax, just in case. It had been Rapunzel’s idea, based on Eugene’s recounting of what he’d heard. Through the torrential downpour of rain that drenches the ship’s deck in the raging storm, Eugene sees Lance shove wax into his own ears and Rapunzel disappear down below to retrieve more for Varian and Eugene.

And then, so suddenly that Eugene nearly slips, everything stills.

The rocking waves are abruptly—unnaturally—still. The rain stops, and Eugene flips his sopping wet hair out of his eyes. The sky is still overcast, but everything is calm and still and it should, by all accounts, relax him. Instead, it sets his teeth on edge.

He locks eyes with Lance across the ship, matching his frown. He knew his friend well enough to recognize the look. Lance was suspicious too. He cocks an eyebrow at Eugene, who sets his mouth in a grim line. I don’t trust it. Lance gives a single nod. His grip around the helm flexes.

Still, without the wind buffeting the sails, Eugene lets his grip on the ropes go a little lax, if only to get circulation back into his fingers. He takes a deep breath of salt and brine, letting his gaze flit over the rest of the sailing vessel quickly. His brow knits together when he sees Varian, standing in the middle of the deck, staring out at the horizon line.

For a moment, Eugene is struck by just how young Varian is. The kid is sixteen and he looks every bit of it, with his sopping wet clothes hanging off his lanky frame and hair falling into his eyes despite the goggles on his head. Then Varian’s head tilts, and Eugene frowns at the weird, clouded look in his eyes.

When the kid takes a faltering step forward, Eugene moves on nothing but instinct.

“Varian!”

Varian breaks into a run for the edge of the ship but Eugene is a few steps ahead of him. He lunges at the same time Varian does. They land hard against the wood of the ship and the wind is knocked out of him. Eugene blindly grabs onto the messy tangle of limbs, tasting copper when a sharp elbow makes contact with his jaw.

“Varian--!”

“I’m coming, Dad!” Varian’s voice is strangled and desperate. “I’m coming! Eugene, let go—”

“Kid, you can’t—”

“Let go!”

Eugene squeezes tighter as Varian nearly slips from his grasp, yanking the kid back and trying to roll on  top of him. Varian was slippery and quick, but Eugene was heavier and stronger. Varian makes a noise that doesn’t sound fully human—something almost like a broken sob—and there’s movement in the corner of Eugene’s eyes that is just enough warning for him to block the wide swing of a fist.

“It’s not real, Varian,” Eugene grits out as he manages to wrestle Varian’s weight to the ground. “Whatever you’re hearing, it’s not—”

“I do!” Varian shouts over to the ocean, thrashing against Eugene’s grip, and it’s then that Eugene sees tears beginning to form in the corner of the teen’s eyes. “I do, Dad! I want to—I’m coming! Don’t—”

But the deck is wet with rain and Eugene’s hands are slippery and Varian wrestles away. Eugene grabs for him blindly and his fist closes around air.

“Wait--!”

“Oh no you don’t, kid.”

Eugene sees Lance intercept Varian and coughs a breath in relief as he manages to get Varian into a firmer hold. Eugene rolls from his back to his hands and knees, taking a second to catch his breath. He tries to pretend he can’t hear Varian’s desperate shouting for his father, or Lance muttering something to him under his breath.

“Eugene.”

Eugene’s mouth twitches in a soft, relieved smile. He knew that voice. Rapunzel was back from below deck with the wax.

“Hey, Sunshine.” He looks up, sitting back on his heels and freezes. Rapunzel was nowhere to be seen.

“Eugene, I’m over here.”

Eugene glances in the direction of the sound. Portside. From the ocean? His blood turns cold, and he pushes himself to his feet. He manages a weak laugh.

“Yeah, nice try,” he says with a bravado that feels flimsy. “Look, I don’t know what you are, but I know Rapunzel is—”

But then there’s that laugh. That soft little giggle that always made that odd swooping feeling in his stomach, and Eugene finds his voice faltering for just a moment.

“The water is really nice, Eugene,” says Rapunzel’s voice. “Come join me. Just for a quick swim.”

Eugene blinks hard and shakes his head. Not real. It wasn’t real. Rapunzel was below deck.

“Please, Eugene?” the voice continues. “I just wanted to get a moment alone with you. A moment with just you and me. The water is so nice, Eugene.”

Eugene clenches his jaw. Crosses his arms over his chest. He breathes deeply. Not real. “No dice, mysterious disembodied voice,” Eugene quips. “But—”

“EUGENE!” The voice is still Rapunzel’s, this time closer to the stern. Eugene is moving before he’s even thinking about it, the raw fear in her voice palpable. Eugene lurches towards the sound a few steps before his foot slips. The sudden balance shift is enough to jolt him back to awareness.

That…. That’s not Rapunzel either. Right?

“Eugene, please!” Rapunzel’s voice echoes from that same direction, strained and terrified. Eugene’s stomach rolls. “Please, I can’t—please, Eugene. I’m—” Her voice cuts off and there’s the sound of splashing water and Eugene falters in his steps again.

Rapunzel… where was Rapunzel again?

Another splash. Her voice, higher and more panicked. A wordless, throaty scream.

Not real, not real, not real— The reminder repeats like a mantra in Eugene’s head but it is hard to listen to it when the sound of Rapunzel drowning and begging for him seems to ricochet in the air. It makes the air itself hard to breathe.

Eugene squeezes his eyes shut, and when he hears her broken, gurgling gasp for air that chokes off with the sound of his name, he nearly leaps over the edge. He clamps his hands firmly over his ears. It’s not real, it’s not her, it’s not real, it’s not her—

But it sounds like her, so crystal clear that it hits like a hammer against the caving feeling in Eugene’s chest and he can’t quite contain the pained noise in the back of his throat as he curls around himself (when did he drop to his knees? He doesn’t know). He’s listening to Rapunzel drown and he’s not doing anything, why isn’t he doing anything—

Suddenly there’s warmth covering his shivering hands on his head, trying to pry them away and Eugene instinctively flinches away from the touch, his gaze flying up as he rears back.

His eyes lock onto green ones, wide and worried under a furrowed brow. Her short brown hair is wet with rain and a windswept mess, but Eugene meets those beautiful green eyes and suddenly can’t look away. A part of him is afraid to, as if this is just one more hallucination or trick.

“Sunshine?” he manages weakly.

Rapunzel’s gaze flit over him and she reaches out again for the hands that are still clamped around Eugene’s ears. The contact is just as jarring—and just as warm—as it had been a moment ago, but Eugene lets her pry his hands off of him and hold them in her own. It’s not until Rapunzel’s grip tightens that he realizes he’s trembling a little.

A second later, Eugene realizes everything is silent again. He’s distantly aware of the sound of Varian sobbing.

Eugene opens his mouth to say something, but his throat closes and he just shakes his head and shrugs a shoulder at Rapunzel’s searching gaze. He doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t have the words right now.

Rapunzel moves closer, slowly like she’s afraid of startling him again. When she cups Eugene’s face in her hands, Eugene sinks into the touch. Real. Grounding.

“Eugene,” she whispers, and that’s her voice, her real voice, and Eugene inhales sharply at the sound. The softness with which she says his name is such a stark contrast to the strangled, desperate way the echoes of it had been calling to him from the water that he finds his vision blurring with sudden tears.

Rapunzel presses her forehead to Eugene’s. When he blinks, Rapunzel’s thumb brushes the tears off his cheek. Eugene grips her forearm for a moment before pulling her into a closer embrace. Eugene buries his face into her neck. Warm, real, here, safe. She’s safe.

None of them move for a long time.

#tangled #tts #tangled fanficton #eugene fitzherbert #new dream #new dream fanfiction #eugene angst #angst #drowning #sirens #but like a twist on sirens #varian #varian angst #peril #please let me know if more things should be dropped in these tags #heed warnings

[whumperscorner]

Hello! I've just discovered your whumpy FFXV fanfics and oh my gosh I absolutely adore your writing and ideas! I love a whumpy Prompto story! I've looked over the whump bingo and I think Prompto and "Strapped to a bomb" would be a really interesting/whumpy story! Of course please don't feel pressured to write this if you don't want to and I'm so sorry if this comes across as rude. I hope you have a lovely day!

Ah thank you anon! Don’t worry it definitely doesn’t come off as rude :3 I’m really happy you’ve enjoyed my writing!

Decided to try someone kinda new with this, going with Cor’s pov for the first time, so hopefully that will still be somewhat enjoyable eheh

BTHB #6- Strapped to a Bomb

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Prompto Argentum, Cor Leonis, Nyx Ulric (a little bit)

Whumpee: Prompto Argentum

Word count: 2568

Warnings: none

This work can also be found on ao3 :3

Cor lets his eyes finish skimming through the document in his hand. Then he throws it onto his desk along with all the other documents he’s read through and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s been a very long, very uneventful day. Glancing at his watch, Cor is relieved to find there’s now only a little over an hour until he can leave. Though of course then he has to make his way through the traffic of the streets surrounding the Citadel, which is always a nightmare at this time of day. Now with the furrow between his brows made even deeper than usual, Cor returns to the paperwork. He’s moving on to what he thinks should be the last document in the pile when heavy breathing and rushed footsteps sound through the otherwise empty corridor.

"Marshal-"

"What." Cor's voice is tinged with irritation. This better be damn important for someone to barge in right at the tail end of his workday.

"You’ve been summoned at the entrance," says the breathless recruit. "it’s something about your son."

It doesn’t even take a full second for Cor to react and be up on his feet. He grabs his jacket and phone and hurries out of the office along with the recruit. Not that it’s out of the ordinary for Prompto to come to the Citadel, whether it’s Cor he’s coming to see or Prince Noctis whenever he’s around. Normally he would just let himself in though, and that along with the frantic look on the recruit’s face - no, something has to be wrong.

"What’s the situation?" Cor asks, not bothering to look back and just assuming the recruit is following him as he strides down the hall.

"I don’t know, I was just told to get a hold of you quickly." Comes the answer from behind. Cor almost has time to get annoyed at the lack of information, but the recruit keeps going. "Glaive Ulric and Glaive Altius are there already, and when I left they'd started working to evacuate employees outside of the Glaive."

Cor curses under his breath. Evacuation of the other employees? He trusts Nyx and Crowe enough to make that call, but since they have it has to be something serious. Cor enters the elevator and taps his foot impatiently on the floor, infuriated by how slow the descent is seemingly going. His mind races through all the different possibilities for what could be going on, and how Prompto could be involved in it.

The familiar dingand the sound of elevator doors opening cannot come soon enough, and the second it does he's on the move again. It takes him almost no time at all, though still too long in Cor's mind, to make his way to the doors at the main entrance. From the vantage point there he can already see parts of what's going on. Further down the staircase are multiple glaives already at work. Cor recognises Crowe where she stands at the side, gesturing to the people around and obviously in the midst of the evacuation work. He spares a short moment to send the recruit, who is still following behind him, over in her direction with orders to assist in the evacuation work. Then he sees Nyx, standing a bit further down, and then finally he sees a familiar tuft of blond hair. Prompto is talking to Nyx. Cor can't hear what they're saying as he makes his way towards them, but he can tell from meters away that something is wrong with Prompto. It's the way he's holding himself, tense and unnaturally stiff in his movements.

When Cor is close enough, he sees Prompto’s eyes widen, and his mouth opens in a silent plea. Cor lets his own expression soften some and sends him a reassuring nod. It’s at least intended as one, but he’s not sure it helps. Prompto still looks so very scared, and it pricks Cor’s heart painfully. He's about to turn to Nyx, to demand an explanation as to what's going on, but his attention is caught by something else. Peeking through behind the half-open zipper on Prompto's hoodie is some foreign object.

"Open your hoodie Prom, let me see that." Cor says. His mouth feels too dry all of a sudden, but he keeps his voice low and calm despite it. Prompto shifts uneasily but complies. With two shaky hands he fumbles a bit with the zipper, eventually getting it up. What reveals itself is a jumbled mess of wires and various cylindrical objects in black and grey, all fastened together with tape and zip-ties, strapped around Prompto's stomach like a horrid belt. It's most definitely home made, but there's no mistaking it. Cor recognizes explosives when he sees them.

"The hell-" Cor hisses. Though he immediately regrets that and cuts himself off when Prompto shrinks in on himself as if the curse is directed at him. Worry and disbelief swirl around in Cor's stomach. He turns his head to Nyx so fast his neck nearly twists. "What's going on here?"

The look on Nyx's face mirrors Cor's own emotions, and the crease to his brows deepens as he answers in a hushed voice. "Crowe and I found him standing here just earlier, says someone put that," and he motions with his head towards the device. "on him and dropped him off here with orders to go inside. He didn't see their faces."

Now anger flares up in Cor along with all the other conflicting emotions. Someone had dared to put a godsdamn bomb on his son. Cor feels his body tense up, and his hands balling into tight fists. He wants his hands on them, to make them regret ever thinking they could touch Prompto. But that will have to wait, Cor knows it. The top priority has to be getting that thing off of Prompto safely. He bites back another curse by pressing his lips into a thin line and wills himself to loosen the fists, though the tension still lingers in them.

"Bomb squad?" He asks.

"Already called, should be here any minute." Comes Nyx's answer, and Cor nods. He'd rather they were there already, but pushes that thought aside, they'll just have to wait. He then turns his attention back to Prompto. His son's eyes are wide and fearful, darting in between Nyx and Cor. His hands clutch the ends of the hoodie hard but even then, Cor can see them trembling faintly. Now that nobody's talking anymore, he suddenly becomes aware of Prompto's breathing. How strained it is, coming in short, shallow gasps. As if he's trying not to breathe at all.

Now every part of Cor's body urges him to rush to Prompto's side. To reassure him and tell him that everything will be alright. He knows he can't do that but takes one calm step forwards regardless. "Prompto-"

"No!" Prompto gasps, jerking back a step and stumbling slightly. It catches Cor completely off guard, and he stops dead in his tracks. Lifting his hands in a placating manner.

"Wha-"

"Don't come closer, please." Prompto's voice is barely more than a whisper, but to Cor it seems he might as well have been shouting. "If- if it blows, I don't want to hurt you."

Cor feels like he's just been hit in the chest with something hard. This isn't how things are supposed to be. Prompto, his sunshine, should not have to be this scared- for himself or for Cor. Cor sucks in a sharp breath, and despite what his brain is screaming at him to do he takes a step back to where Nyx is standing. It takes considerable effort to keep his voice calm when Cor speaks up again. "Okay, okay. Prompto look at me," he urges, trying to hold his son's gaze intently with his own. "I'm going to be fine, and you're going to be fine. Do you understand?"

After another moment Prompto nods weakly, even as his eyes glaze over with unshed tears. Cor sighs, and wonders what on earth is taking the damn bomb squad so long. He's about to turn to Nyx with this same question when, as if on cue, Prompto's breath hitches and his eyes fixate on something over Cor's shoulder. He turns around and there, finally, he sees a group of about seven or so men and women prepped with armoured suits making their way down the staircase. It draws some stares and gasps from the few not in the Glaive who are still there, but thankfully the evacuation work has come so far that there aren't many around.

Cor lets his shoulders sag ever so slightly in relief as the woman who seems to be in charge of the group comes over to him and Nyx. They exchange a few words and what little information they have on the situation, and she nods in affirmation and begins her work. Ordering three of her people to secure the streets and immediate surroundings to the bottom of the staircase, and the rest to come with her as she movies calmly towards Prompto. Cor tries to send him another encouraging nod, but he looks possibly even more terrified than before. The wide, unsure eyes and trembling lips are not something Cor wants to see on his son's face ever again if he can avoid it.

"They," Prompto tries, but it comes out more a choked gasp than anything else, and he hurries to try again. "they said not to touch it." The words almost trip over themselves in the rush to get out, and Prompto sends Cor a pleading look. Almost desperate as members of the bomb squad are getting closer to him.

"These people know what they're doing, kid." Cor urges on, thankful that his voice carries such authority and doesn't betray any underlying worries. "Let them help. I promise it will all be fine." Anything else is out of the question, he thinks, but he doesn't say that. Instead opting to take on as soothing and confident an expression as possible.

Prompto nods again, but doesn't look any more convinced, letting slip a tiny whine when the approaching bomb technicians are close enough to touch. The woman orders the hoodie to be removed, and her associates make quick work of it. It's close to torture, Cor finds, having to stay where he is and only watch. Prompto stays stiff and unmoving as the hoodie is removed and thrown to the side, where Nyx goes to pick it up. In the clutter of people now around him, Prompto looks like a forlorn kitten, fixed to the ground and scared to move in any significant way.

"Timer?" asks the woman loudly.

"None ma'am." comes the answer.

At this the woman turns her attention back to Nyx and Cor. "We're sure it's timed?" She asks. "No chance it could be remote controlled?"

Cor opens his mouth to answer but to his great surprise, and the woman's too it seems, Prompto beats him to it. "It's timed," his voice shakes slightly as he speaks. "they said so when they dropped me off… f-fifty minutes." he stammers, then his voice dies down again.

A moment of stunned silence goes by, then the woman curses loudly. "You should have said so sooner!" She snaps. Cor sees how it makes Prompto shrink in on himself and hears his stuttered apologies. They need to figure out how much time they have left, and the last thing he wants is for Prompto to panic now. So he takes a careful step forward, intent on getting Prompto's attention away from the lady.

"Prompto look at me!" He implores loudly, cutting Prompto off in the midst of his train of apologies. "Just look at me. I need you to tell me how long you stood here before anyone arrived, can you do that?"

"I- 6 maybe 7 minutes, I think." He answers, swallowing hard. Cor nods at him again then hastily checks the time on his phone. It's been almost 30 minutes since he left his office, though to him it feels like much longer than that. Still, that doesn't leave them with much time, only a little under 20 minutes. Cor relays the information out loud, to which the woman nods and goes back to her work, not wasting another second on talking.

Through all this Prompto has been keeping his eyes locked on Cor, exactly as told. So Cor sees it the second he returns his attention to his son. That now with the working hands of multiple people back around his waist, and the knowledge of just how long he has left until an eventual untimely death- a little under 20 minutes, it's all too much. Cor can see it all swirling around in his head, can read it in his face. It's one of the effects of having cared for someone from when they were a small child, Cor knows his son, and he knows the breaking point is coming.

"Prompto," he begins softly, "keep your eyes focused on me, okay? Only on me, ignore anything else." Prompto nods, chokes out a sob, and lets the first few tears come. Cor sees them rolling down unhindered, and the wet streaks they leave on freckled skin. "It's okay," he hushes, barely even noticing that he's taken a few more steps towards Prompto. "you've been brave today. Now just let us fix the rest, okay? It'll be alright."

Cor keeps speaking softly like that for what somehow feels simultaneously like an eternity and no time at all. The tears are still running down Prompto's face, but he's managing to keep his attention mostly on Cor and not on the rest of the situation. It's working exactly how Cor was hoping it would. When, after some time, the bomb loosens from around Prompto's waist and movement surges all around it catches Prompto entirely off-guard. But not Cor. Cor rushes forward the second he sees that the explosives are removed and Prompto is being shoved away from them for the bomb squad to finish their work, and when Prompto stumbles Cor catches him. Relief floods through Cor's body like a breath of fresh air, and he wastes no time before dragging Prompto a few secure steps back. He's holding his son, and it's okay now.

Prompto cries for another while, not at all surprising given the rush and tension from the day, but he's at least safe. In a move uncharacteristically tender for Cor when they're anywhere other than the privacy of their home, he runs his hand through his son's soft hair and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. "You're okay Prom, you're okay."

The two are awarded some peace and quiet before Nyx comes to check on the two of them and provide them with the news that the bomb has been properly taken care of. When he does Cor gives him a grateful nod. He knows it's time for him to take Prompto home, but before that there's one last thing he needs to do.

"Make sure the security footage from today is thoroughly checked." Says Cor, his voice every bit as serious as the situation calls for. And now it's Nyx's turn to nod, knowing without needing to be told what he's on the lookout for. "I want them found and identified."

#whump #bthb #bad things happen bingo #rasko's bthb #final fantasy xv #strapped to a bomb #ffxv whump #prompto argentum whump #prompto argentum #cor leonis #papa cor #protective cor leonis #hurt/comfort #emotional whump #soft ending #my writing

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Inspired by this post by @whump-princess all about tail whump~ Specifically “getting it caught or slamming it in a door”.

Featuring my demon/incubus OC Arinn. He has tiny horns and a thin, smooth “devil tail” sort of tail. He can magically hide them to blend in but doesn’t need to at home with Alex. He is “fed”/energized by physical affection (this story makes 0 sense without that info).

Tagging @deluxewhump ? This isn’t that sort of Arinn story but I did promise to tag you. :)

CW: tail whump, tail injury, broken bones, bruising, swearing, comfort, affection, romantic relationship, touching, kissing, a few light innuendos but nothing overtly sexual.

----

The cozy Saturday afternoon silence in the apartment is interrupted by the slam of the door... followed by an agonized scream from the doorway. There’s a thud and a string of curses in at least four languages.

Startled, Alex sets down his phone on the kitchen counter and hurries into the living room.

“Ari?”

Sure enough, his demon boyfriend Arinn is standing there, looking...not great. His face is flushed and pinched with pain, his fists clenched tight, white-knuckled. Bags of groceries lie at either side of his feet, their contents spilling out onto the floor. Alex couldn’t care less about them. He steps closer.

“Ari, what’s wrong? Hey, breathe...”

Ari releases a shaky breath. He takes a few more deep breaths before answering, his voice weak, tugging at Alex’s heart.

“M-my tail...”

Alex hurries to his side and looks around him.

“Oh, fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck...”

Ari’s slender tail, connected at his lower back, droops down and disappears into where the door meets the door frame. Trapped there. Undoubtedly crushed. Undoubtedly hurting.

“Oh, fuck, babe...”

“Quit saying fuck and get it out!” Arinn snaps. He immediately covers his reddened face with a hitched sound. “Sorry...sorry - I...it h-hurts.”

“I know...I know, babe.” A kiss is pressed to the side of Arinn’s head, reassurance that Alex isn’t angry. He crouches by the door.

“...wind blew it shut,” Arinn mumbles sullenly, lowering his hands. He tries in vain to hide a sniffle. Alex hears it, but spares his lover the further humiliation of pointing it out. He’s so good like that...he knows what Arinn needs, when he needs it.

Right now he just needs his tail out of the fucking door.

“Alright...here goes...”

Alex cups one hand under Arinn’s tail so it doesn’t fall. With his other hand he slowly twists the doorknob and eases the door open.

Arinn whines softly as his tail slips free into Alex’s gentle grip. He sways on his feet, groaning deeply at the rush of pain. “O-oh...”

“Easy...easy, I’ve got you.” Alex stands, still carefully holding Arinn’s tail so it doesn’t droop to the ground. He puts his other arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Couch or bed?”

“Bed, please.” Arinn turns away, flushed with pain and embarrassment and unwilling to look at the damage to his poor tail.

His tail has always been a conflicting part of himself. A thing, like his horns, that separated him from humans. Emotive, curling when he’s happy and flicking when he’s angry and tucking between his legs when he’s frightened. Fragile and vulnerable, an easy target for those who would hurt him, something to be grabbed and yanked and stomped on.

But also...

Also soft and sensitive. So attuned to gentle touch, like when Alex strokes and kisses it as lovingly as the rest of him. Tingling at the feeling of warm fingers, sending ripples of pleasure up his spine...

Now the only things traveling up his spine are tremors with every painful throb of his injured tail. Try as he might, he can’t hold back the little pained sounds the feeling elicits as Alex guides him to the bedroom.

“Alright...on your stomach...”

It’s the sort of obvious statement Arinn would normally give a sarcastic retort, and it’s a testament to the pain he’s in that he doesn’t say a word as he crawls onto the mattress and flops face first into the pillow with a groan.

He feels Alex gently settle his tail down beside him. There’s a brief loss of contact that sends a chill across Arinn’s skin. Don’t leave me. He knows Alex won’t, but nonetheless his mind can’t help imagining being left to suffer.

A big warm hand cups the back of his neck, a thumb stroking at his pulse. “I’m going to get some things...” A pause, the hand not moving. “Arinn...can you say something? I’m worried...”

That makes Arinn huff out a laugh in spite of himself. Of course Alex is worried because he isn’t running his mouth for once.

“...your hand feels good,” he mumbles into the pillow. The comforting weight of it increases ever so slightly, the touch grounding him.

“Once you’re fixed up I’ll put my hands wherever you want,” Alex teases.

Arinn groans. “None of that. Not for a while,” he says miserably.

“I know. And it’s okay.” Alex kisses the top of his head and then disappears into the bathroom to dig through their medicine cabinet.

He returns with what must be half of its contents and spills them onto the other half of the bed. “I’m not really sure how to treat a tail,” he admits. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t want to go to a doctor.”

“Hell no,” Arinn says, turning his face to rest his cheek on the pillow so that he can look at Alex. When Alex sees his red-rimmed eyes his face softens. On anyone else it would be pity and Arinn would scoff at it, but from his Alex he knows it’s only that he feels everything so strongly, including his lover’s pain.

“It will heal on its own,” Arinn reassures him, and it’s true. He heals quicker than humans do, at least, when he has enough energy. And Alex’s constant affection is a more than sufficient energy source. “Just...something to keep it from moving until then. And something f-for the pain -” he draws in a sharp gasp as said pain hits him again.

“Yeah,” Alex says quickly. “Yeah, of course. Okay...”

He gently lifts the limp little tail and cradles it gently in his hands. Arinn closes his eyes and breathes, trusting him completely.

Alex makes a little sound of sympathy, his fingers moving almost imperceptibly over the bruised flesh. For someone who could probably bench press Arinn if he wanted to, he’s always so gentle with him. “It’s definitely broken.”

“Thought so...there was a - a crunch.” He feels Alex flinch at the words. Lips brush softly over the tender skin of his tail and he sighs.

After that, Alex works silently. He smooths some sort of balm onto the damaged tail for the bruising. He uses a ruler and bandages to fashion a splint for it, something Arinn will hate wearing every moment until it’s gone, but knows it’s necessary. Alex even gets a bag of frozen peas from the kitchen and lets the tail rest on it to ease the swelling.

Finally he begins to pop open a bottle of pain medicine, when Arinn stops him.

“Those won’t help.”

“No?”

“No. Demon, remember?”

Alex frowns, crestfallen, and sets the bottle aside. “What will help?”

“You.”

His head snaps up and Arinn meets his searching gaze. The love there is...intoxicating. Just the anticipation of Alex’s comfort makes him feel a little bit stronger.

He starts to climb into the bed and is stopped again. “Mm-mm. Shirt.”

Understanding crosses Alex’s face and in seconds his shirt is gone, revealing broad shoulders and a strong body with just enough softness to be wonderfully comfortable.

“Yours too?”

Arinn nods and doesn’t budge, letting Alex ease his shirt up over his head and toss it aside.

Alex pulls up the covers and slips under them beside him. Arinn carefully turns onto his side, managing not to jostle his tail, Alex’s hand on his hip to guide him.

“You do the rest,” he mumbles, feeling drowsy now that the shock and pain from earlier has dulled.

Alex obliges. He moves close, warm arms curling around Arinn’s body. Arinn rests his forehead against Alex’s neck and feels like he can really breathe for the first time all day.

There are no more words between them. None are necessary. Alex speaks his love in soothing strokes of hands down his back, kisses peppered over his hair, his legs tangling with Arinn’s. Solid and steady. Exactly what Arinn needs.

His affections are like a glass of water to a parched throat, sending a familiar warm energy coursing through Arinn’s veins. With Alex around he never has to hunger or thirst or want. He has everything he needs and more.

By the morning his tail will already be halfway healed, and Alex will dote on him and bring him food and kiss his horns and make him laugh. He’ll love him so hard, love his pain away, love his tail better, love his body stronger. And Arinn will love him back just as fiercely.

~The End~

#whump #tail whump #demon whump #nonhuman whumpee #demon whumpee #incubus whump #incubus character #broken bones #bruising #injury #swearing #comfort #caretaking #romantic relationship #touching #kissing #shirtless #love #my writing #my ocs #arinn #alex

[secretwhumplair]

What Xerxes wants

878 words | Xerxes & Nor (timeline - weeks after Xerxes got rescued)

Content | Whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, ex-whumper x whumpee (non-romantic), mention of past torture, conditioning

Notes | Hm. Hm. So. Here we are. I was a little hesitant to delve into this part of the story but literally this blog exists to play with those things so!

Xerxes already had their touch aversion before, the torture unsurprisingly did not make it better...

Taglist | @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​​

For a while after waking up, Xerxes stared at the ceiling, listening to Nor’s calm breath next to them. “Don’t leave me,” they had begged, weeks before, their mind raw with the agony filling their entire world, except for the Nor-shaped cut-out. They should have taken back the words once they could think halfway straight. They knew they should have.

But they still woke to the sound of Nor’s breath every morning.

It was such an achingly familiar sound, and it shouldn’t be.

They had no business staying here, taking advantage of Nor’s kind heart or Stockholm syndrome or whatever the fuck it was that had possessed him to save them.

They carefully sat up, swallowed down tears, and climbed over Nor without disturbing him. When they moved, something inside them still throbbed with pain. For a moment, they wondered idly whether it would ever fully go away, but of course it would. They always healed.

The thought made them sick to their stomach.

They had almost made it, were almost fully dressed and on their way out the door, when Nor stirred behind them. They had tried so hard to be quiet, let him sleep and wake without them as if from a bad dream, and they froze, hoping he’d go back to sleep.

“Xerxes. Where are you going?” He sounded almost hurt.

“Home,” Xerxes replied, not turning around. “I don’t belong here.” I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve y-

“You belong to me. I bought you.” He regretted saying it by the time they turned around, they could tell from the way he leant back just a fraction, as if to distance himself from his words. But he was right, of course. It was almost a relief. That was at least some level of fair.

“Sit.” Nor nodded to the empty space next to where he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Xerxes obeyed, folding their hands in their lap. They felt themself tremble lightly and couldn’t have said quite why. It wasn’t that they were scared of Nor, in the way a pet might be of their master; they knew he would never treat them this way, no matter what he said.

Even though they deserved it.

For a while, they sat in silence. Not didn’t reach out, hadn’t reached out to touch them once since he brought them here, even though they knew he wanted to, and they were so grateful.

“This isn’t right,” they finally said, when Nor didn’t. “You shouldn’t have to do this. You of all people.”

“Well, someone had to.” Xerxes glimpsed over to see Nor looking steadily at them, not happy, certainly not, but determined. “You didn’t deserve that. No one does. You didn’t deserve being tortured - essentially to death over and over. No one fucking deserves that.”

It took all Xerxes had not to flinch when Nor put their ordeal so bluntly. They looked away, shook their head. Absurdly, they found they missed the flow of their hair as they moved. “I-“

“I know what you did,” Nor interrupted them. “I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry.” He’d raised his voice just a little, the way he never would have dared a year ago, and they found a smile tugging at the corner of their mouth.

At least.

Yet his raised voice, or his cut hair, or the weight he gained couldn’t hide the tense poise with which he still carried himself, or the willingness to drop whatever he was doing to do what anyone asked. They had seen the damage they had done - they had known, of course, but only now they knew how well it lasted.

“I’m grateful,” they whispered. “I can never thank you enough. But it isn’t fair you have to take care of me. And I - I’m better. I can go. You’ve done enough.” It took all their strength to keep their voice from breaking. A little voice inside them was begging for help, begging for more of the care they’d received in the last weeks, begging not to be left alone again. But even if they could ever ask for it, it would never be fair to ask it of him. They pushed themself up from the bed.

From the way Nor looked at them, they knew they hadn’t convinced him, and it struck them that knowing each other for so long was a two-way street. They looked away.

“I’ll come,” Nor said quietly. “I’ll help you with your work. You’re doing good, I want to help.”

“You shouldn’t. This… is a bad idea.” He was still attached to them, it was painfully obvious, and that was perhaps the worst of all.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” There was a note of playfulness in his voice now, but it didn’t cover the tiredness underneath. “I’ve made up my mind. I don’t want to argue with you.”

I don’t want to argue with you was there in his eyes, sure. But Xerxes also saw something much deeper and kinder, a kindness they didn’t deserve.

But they couldn’t bear continuing to argue. Maybe it was even right not to. They couldn’t tell, too strong was the ache inside them to continue being looked at like that.

#whump #whump writing #whumper turned whumpee #whumpee turned caretaker #whumpee x whumper #my writing #nor #xerxes

[jess-rewatches-prodigalson]

Killabustas (S2, E9)

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode are below. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:00 - Are the birds flying past Malcolm’s apartment supposed to be an omen for the rest of the season? Or just some foreshadowing for the bird-heavy episode? .....I’m probably reading wayyy too much into this.

0:12 - Ugh. Someone give this sweet cinnamon roll a hug. He’s spiralling. He is so close to having a total mental breakdown and it breaks my heart. (but like, I also want to see it because emotional whump is my favourite).

0:23 - “How can I trust you? I know what you did.” This. This is what’s killing Malcolm. The fear that if Gil, Dani, JT, and Edrisa find out what he did for Ainsley they won’t trust him. He’s afraid they’ll abandon him. He’s afraid that they’ll hate him as much as he already hates himself. ISTG the moment they all find out (or tell Malcolm what they suspect) Malcolm will break. That will be the metaphorical straw that breaks the camel’s back. 

0:34 - Anyone else think Malcolm looks completely adorable (yet super sad and scared) when he’s focusing on painting? <3

0:45 - “Why must everything you paint have an exit wound?” I love that this suggests that this isn’t the first mother-son painting session. <3 hahaha

0:47 - “It’s a pear.” It’s heartbreaking that Malcolm didn’t even realize that his pear was bleeding. C’mon Jessica, it’s time for an intervention. Malcolm is breaking in front of you. DO SOMETHING. 

1:01 - NO. DAMN IT FEDAK. I wanted to see Malcolm’s reaction when Jessica told him she was writing a memoir. I wanted to see it so badly. I wanted to see him panic about the fact that she was inevitably going to disclose information about his childhood that he’d rather not have public. 

1:09 - “How much worse you really are.” OOOOOOOOOOHHHH SHIT. I can’t believe he said that to his Mother’s face. hahahaha OMG. Malcolm is a little shit head and I love him. Well, at least I know he’s upset about the fact that she’s writing this book. His jab at Jessica proves that much.

1:42 - Is Malcolm playing matchmaker here? hahaha or is he just trying to get Jessica out of his loft ASAP?

1:53 - “Why didn’t they call me?!?” Can you hear the sound of my heart breaking? I understand why they didn’t call him in on this one BUT it’s not helping Malcolm’s mental health. On top of the fear that he is becoming his father, the stress of covering up a murder, the fear that his sister is going to become a serial killer, his childhood trauma, and usual mental health issues - Malcolm is afraid he’s going to be abandoned if the team finds out about Endicott. This is reinforcing those fears. 

1:55 - “Where should I start?” At least Jessica can see how much pain Malcolm is in. I wish she’d do something constructive about it.

2:00 - “Forget to call someone?” Something about the way Malcolm waltzes into the frame and delivers that line is super endearing. He’s like a little kid running after his older siblings and their friends when they tried to go to the mall without him. <3 

2:05 - Why the hell didn’t Gil just pull a 1x12 on Malcolm and insist Malcolm take a holiday? Hell - he could’ve gotten Jessica to enforce it. The fact that Gil is being super distant with Malcolm is not helping Malcolm’s very fragile mental health. GIL I’M DISAPPOINTED IN YOU (and I have been all season....) :(

 2:12 - “Trauma’s my middle name.” Okay so 1) what is Malcolm’s middle name? If it’s Martin please tell me he changed it when he changed his last name. 2) At least we got a small papa!Gil moment this episode. <3 

2:26 - “Fine.” This is Gil terrified. Remember what Gil said in 1x12? “He was losing it. I mean, I could see that. But I was afraid that I’d lose him.” That’s why Gil is letting Malcolm on this case. He knows Malcolm is losing it and he’s terrified of what Malcolm might do to himself with time on his hands. Gil doesn’t think Malcolm should be working but he knows it’s the only thing he can do to help Malcolm in the short term. 

2:42 - hahahaha Gil’s taken-aback look when Malcolm starts not-so-subtly being a member of the Gillica fan club. hahaha <3

3:00 - Okay. I’m done. Edrisa can’t still think she and Malcolm might happen. I can’t handle this blantant one-sided worship anymore and I’m so glad it’s ending this episode (I hope).

3:07 - “and also, you’re bleeding.” <3 JT looking out for Bright. <3 

3:12 - “Oh. I thought that this was your hobby?” <3 Dani teasing Bright. <3 I love that Dani, Edrisa, and JT are at least giving Malcolm some positive attention right now. It’s good for his fragile mental state. <3 

3:40 - The directing is really good this episode. I’m not usually a person who notices that kind of thing but DAMN. 

“It’s an expression of power and control.” “Sounds like someone with serious anger issues.” Yikes. Why do the ‘cases of the week’ always relate back to Malcolm’s current mental health crisis?!? Malcolm dismembered a body (for Ainsley but still). Now he’s profiling that the act of dismembering a body is an expression of power and control. That reinforces his fear that he’s becoming like Martin. Dani’s distaste and offhanded comment about anger issues won’t help Malcolm’s very real fear of abandonment. Hell, it’s compounding his fears that he’s like his father - the man obsessed with power and control who has a nasty temper when things don’t go his way. 

4:09 - “Our killer derived pleasure from this.” Dani looks terrified when Malcolm says this. Is it just because she thinks this is a gross and scary murder scene? Or is it because she’s connecting the Malcolm+Endicott dots?

4:11 - “budding homicidal psychopath” is this supposed to be foreshadowing that Malcolm is becoming a psychopath? The writers have been suggesting that Malcolm enjoyed cutting up the body all season. .....and I don’t want the story to go that way. Please no.

4:15 - “I think I just became a vegetarian.” hahahaha JT is my hero. I love this dude and his dry but humorous comments.

4:26 - Once again - I can’t rewatch the Martin+Capshaw scenes. Once was more than enough. My basic thoughts on this particular scene? Capshaw and Martin are both gross. I think Martin is desperate for physical contact and Capshaw knows it. I think Capshaw is manipulating Martin (why is a mystery to me). I also think Martin is manipulating Capshaw so he can use her to help him escape.....I do however think Martin is a heterosexual male who is full of lust and physical desires. (which is really gross to me - a sex-repulsed asexual).

 6:22 - I have a serious love-hate relationship with this scene. On one hand, Gil is clearly so so so concerned about Malcolm here and it warms my cold dead heart. On the other hand, the fact that he sends Dani to talk to Malcolm instead of just talking to Malcolm himself kind of pisses me off. Gil’s been really distant with Malcolm all season and it’s killing me. BUT I also kind of understand why Gil is passing off Malcolm to Dani (I don’t agree with it but I digress). All season the writers have been pushing the Brightwell relationship. We’ve seen a lot of really good meaningful conversations between Dani and Malcolm. At this point in time, it appears that Malcolm is willing to open up to Dani more than anyone else. Think about it. Even in season 1 - Malcolm never really opened up to Gil about his mental health. Gil knows that Malcolm won’t talk about his mental health with him - so he’s sending in the expert (Dani). I’m not happy about this but I kind of get it. 

6:39 - OMG. Malcolm excitedly sliding into the room is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. <3

6:44 - “What are you guys talking about?” “You.” Exhibit A. If Malcolm had just responded with “what? why?” or Gil had followed up his statement with “we’re worried about you” we could’ve had a meaningful conversation about Malcolm’s mental health. Right. Here. BUT Malcolm knows why they’re talking about him. Malcolm is deflecting. He doesn’t want to talk about this with Gil. So he rolls his eyes and walks away. Gil shouldn’t have let Malcolm off the hook so easily. :( 

7:36 - “There’s a special place in hell for people who hurt birds.” Ugh. I just want to hug this little cinnamon roll. <3 

7:55 - “Where’d this murder board come from?”  hahahaha I love how JT’s constant mood is “I work with crazy people”. 

8:07 - “You’re a web sleuth.” I love that JT somehow manages to get across that he thinks Edrisa is a complete weirdo but he respects the hell out of her. Also - the fact that JT teases the people he loves is so cute to me. 

8:31 - “Ouf.” This was funny but it also felt a little ooc? Like wouldn’t Gil just cross his arms and say “Edrisa” as a gentle but stern warning? 

8:53 - Does Edrisa have no filter or do people really think about sex this often? As an asexual, I’m genuinely asking.

8:55 - I love how uncomfortable Gil and JT get every time Edrisa starts talking about sex and/or reproductive anatomy. hahaha

9:37 - Did Martin ever kill animals? As a teenager maybe? 

9:47 - “They have all the control over this cages, seemingly inferior creature.” ....is this supposed to be a subtle reference to the Martin/Capshaw thing? Capshaw being the killer and Martin being the inferior animal she’s controlling? 

10:15 - Nope. I’m out. Can’t do it. So gross. 

11:00 - “It’s super gross.” Malcolm is all of us. 

11:08 - Soooo is Martin fantasizing about killing Capshaw after they do sexy things (hopefully consensual ones)?

11:52 - “Oh I’m already crazy.” This is somehow adorable and completely heart shattering. Malcolm is hiding his pain behind humour but he genuinely believes that he’s crazy. :( 

12:00 - Is this the only conversation Malcolm and Edrisa have ever had without Edrisa hero-worshiping Malcolm?......I like it?!?! These two are total weirdos and should definitely be besties.

13:14 - Damn. Edrisa is shining in this episode. <3 <3 

13:33 - “No. You won’t” hahaha JT being the team big brother is so cute. 

13:46 - “You coming?” Malcolm is so soft here. <3 <3 

14:00 - I love everything about this scene. I love how Dani opens up to Bright - even though it’s clearly still painful for her to talk about. I love how attentive and caring Malcolm is. I love how in character they both are. Malcolm is trying to deflect his problems. I love how Malcolm is 100% aware that Dani doesn’t believe his “I’m fine” bs. Dani is trying to get him to open up by sharing some of her own demons with him. Dani looks upset and worried that Malcolm won’t open up - but not surprised. 

15:00 - “I pulled a Bright.” hahahaha OMG. I love that Dani and Malcolm don’t question this expression at all. It suggests that the team has used the phrase “pulling a Bright” before and I am here for it. 

15:27 - This is what I call ‘passively suicidal’. Yes, Malcolm jumps in front of that car because he thinks it will help him solve the case. Yes, it’s technically an action motivated by the will to live. HOWEVER, he doesn’t move out of the way when Dani tells him to. That car is driving slowly. He doesn’t move. Because he’s in a mental state where he doesn’t care if he lives or dies. He has moments when he cares about life (like solving a case) but those just aren’t enough anymore. Yes, he looks a little alarmed when the car approaches him - but I honestly doubt Malcolm is frozen in fear. 

15:56 - “You had the right of way. He can’t sue.” Holy shit. First of all - I immediately think Ashton is a douche. Secondly - is this how America works?!?! In Canada we teach our drivers that the ‘pedestrian always has the right of way’.

16:11 - “My super close friends from online.” Honestly - I feel called out. This is how I must sound when mention my internet friends to my family.

16:25 - Sooooo we’re all in agreement right? The fact that Malcolm has hit the left side of his head without medical treatment this many times = 1) mental breakdown sometime before the end of the season or 2) a way to get him out of taking the fall for Endicott.

16:38 - *sigh* can someone please hug this man!?!? He just can’t catch a break. This whole conversation between Malcolm and hallucination!Martin is heartbreaking. It shows that on some level even Malcolm knows he’s going to break soon because his mental health is in tatters. 

17:23 - “She’s not like the others.” Who are the ‘others’? Are these the other people that Malcolm’s had a romantic interest in? Are ‘others’ friends from Malcolm’s past? Or are the others Gil, Edrisa, and JT?  

17:34 - Ugh. Floppy haired. Bruised. Sad. My whump heart is so full. 

17:56 - Does Malcolm not go on the internet? He didn’t know what a sock puppet is? (granted, I’m 24 and I didn’t know either).

18:04 - The firefighter’s name is BLAZE (Blaise)?!? Are you kidding me?

18:24 - “No. No, it isn’t.” Damn. JT is worried about Malcolm. Just look at him. 

18:51 - Do I think it’s weird that this dude is so openly flirting with Edrisa in the middle of a police questioning?!? HELL YES. Do I think it’s weird that Edrisa’s allowed in the questioning??!!? HELL YES. Am I glad they’re giving Edrisa a love interest who isn’t Malcolm? OH HELL YES. ....also Edrisa and Blaze are kind of cute? Like they’re both weirdos and they’re both into each other so ...?!!?

19:47 - Wow. This whole “Killabustas police interrogation” scene is painfully hard to rewatch. Like - the dialogue makes absolutely no logical sense but it had to be there for the plot? Everything is just too convenient. The pamphlets. The fact that these members were all so quick to meet IRL. The fact that these dudes were able to track Alex down so quickly....I mean....who is buying this nonsense?!?!

20:05 - Ugh my asexual ass can’t handle the amount of horny people in this episode. 

20:18 - Anyone else think it’s strange that Gil referred to Malcolm as “Bright” to Jessica?!? I mean, Jessica is Malcolm’s mother. PLUS it feels like Gil is trying to emotionally distance himself from Malcolm?!? 

20:24 - “Remind me to take Malcolm out of my will.” hahahahaha OMG. I love Jessica so much.

20:44 - These Jessica/Gil scenes were a highlight of the episode for me. They’re just so cute. I love how supportive Gil is. I love how Jessica isn’t repressing her feelings with booze during this episode. I love how open about her insecurities Jessica is with Gil. I love how happy they both look. <3 <3 <3 <3 

21:24 - “Some still do.” YES!!!! YES!!!! Keep flirting Gil!!! Don’t give up on her!!! <3 <3 

21:45 - Holy shit. How much does Edrisa get paid?!?! This is a rich person apartment. I’m shook. 

23:05 - Again. I must fast forward through the nasty romantic manipulation that is the Capshaw+Martin scene. The sexual tension made me nauseous the first time. But I WILL say that I think the black guard in this scene - Mr. Benjamin will be the dude Martin maims next episode (from the previews) - not Mr. David. Either that or the black patient in the room. 

25:25 - “Watch out. I bite.” ........I have no words. My asexual ass is shocked, disgusted, and .....kind of proud of Edrisa for going after what she wants (even if she’s super crass about it). 

26:03 - “That’s a seriously twisted mind.” “Sure. The kind I get.” This whole scene is heartbreaking. I honestly can’t tell if Malcolm is projecting himself, Ainsley, or both of them onto the suspect. “He killed for attention” - sounds like Ainsley to me. “Alex was going to out him to the group” ......HOLY SHIT. Does this mean Ainsley’s going to try and kill Malcolm and/or Jessica because she think’s they’ll rat her out?!?!?! “It’s about preserving the group. The Vulture needs them.” - That sounds like Malcolm to me. Malcolm doesn’t want to tell the team about Ainsley because he needs them and he’s scared they’ll abandon him if they find out about Ainsley. 

27:10 - I’m getting secondhand embarrassment from the west coast of Canada.

27:21 - “Our killer would never order take out.” Weak, Malcolm. Weak excuse. 

27:40 - annnnnndd this scene was a hard skip for me. I can’t watch Martin and Capshaw prepare to do sexy things. Nope. ALTHOUGH, I will say: Capshaw’s story about how she ended up in Claremont is interesting. Whether it’s true or not is debatable but it definitely shows that Capshaw is manipulative and creepy like Martin. I have a very strong feeling that Capshaw is a psychopath, serial killer, or sociopath. 

31:00 - Edrisa checking out Malcolm’s loft is everything I dreamed it would be. The fact that she’s clearly in awe of his weapons collection. The fact that she has no regard for his privacy and just starts going through his fridge and sleeping area. The fact that she so openly comments and judges the stuff in his loft (ie. restraints on the bed, lack of food in the fridge). It’s perfect. 

31:27 - “This is the fridge of a very sad person.” LMAO. I love this line so so so much. I love how Edrisa seems to be realizing for the first time just how broken Malcolm is. I love how sheepish Malcolm looks when she unintentionally calls him out. I love how amused Dani is by the whole situation. <3 <3 

32:00 - annnndddd the Killabustas have taken over Malcolm’s loft. They don’t ask for permission to set up his TV. They don’t awkwardly hang out near the door until Malcolm invites them to ‘make themselves at home’ or any of the other common pleasantries us North Americans go through when we visit the homes of acquaintances. They walk right in and claim ownership. It’s kind of beautiful? 

32:13 -......so did they already have Malcolm’s wifi password or am I expected to believe that they either a) have a mobile hotspot, b) are using data, c) web-sleuthed their way into hacking his wifi, or d) Malcolm had his wifi password written down somewhere super obvious inside the house?!?! This is honestly the most unrealistic thing about this episode. It’s 2021. The first time you visit a friend’s house you ask for their wifi password. It’s what you do. 

33:28 - Ok. I like the kiss on the cheek. Very respectful. She clearly would’ve been down for more but he’s a gentleman and I respect the hell out of it. 

33:48 - “I’m sorry Blaze is so jacked.” hahaha OMG Edrisa - Malcolm’s not romantically interested in you. He never has been. Read the room woman!

36:11 - Ashton is Malcolm in this scene. “I’ve been a freak my whole life. I had nothing until that bird video. Suddenly, I was a part of something.” == “I’ve been a freak my whole life. I had nothing until I joined the team. Suddenly, I was a part of something.”

36:38 - “Ashton, it won’t work. Family will only go so far. Because once they know the truth - who they’re really after - they’ll give up on you. And no more family.” Ouch. This hurts. Malcolm genuinely believes that Gil, Dani, JT, and Edrisa are going to abandon him the second they find out what he did for Ainsley. Malcolm thinks they’re going to hate him. Malcolm thinks they’re going to think he’s like Martin - a criminal. A killer. Look at how broken Malcolm looks and sounds here. It’s not just that Malcolm thinks he’s going to be abandoned. It’s that he thinks he deserves to be abandoned. He thinks he’s a monster. 

 37:02 - EDRISA!!! DAMN. I love this badass. <3 <3 So proud of the girl who literally had a panic attack in 1x15 when she had to save a that ‘almost-victim’ by injecting alcohol into him. 

38:05 - My heart is so full. This is honestly one of my top 10 moments of Prodigal Son to date. I love that we see Gil’s new car. I love that he’s working on his car in a police mechanic shop. I love this little glimpse into Gil’s personal life  - the man who likes fixing up old cars with a cold beer while listening to 80s music in an boombox from the 80s. <3 I love the absolute adorableness that is Jessica and Gil awkwardly flirting. 

I love that Jessica - the rich socialite - holds Gil’s wrench without question. Even though she looks a little confused. I love that Jessica comes to Gil this time. He’s been instigating the flirting most of this season. It looks like Jessica’s finally ready to be an equal partner in the relationship.

I love that Jessica - the rich socialite - takes a drink of Gil’s working-class beer with a smile. His social class isn’t beneath her. She doesn’t care about how rich he is - just about the purity of his intentions and the depth of his devotion to her family. 

39:00 - “Oh I remember her. How fiercely she protected her kids.” I LOVE THIS. I love that Gil is attracted to Jessica’s devotion as a mother. I love that the fact that she had children with another man (a serial killer) doesn’t bother him. He loves how fierce, independent, and strong she is and that’s absolutely gorgeous. 

I love who wholesome their romantic moment is. Unlike Edrisa and Martin’s live scenes - it’s not fast, heavy, and physical. It’s slow, gentle, and emotional. Gil and Jessica dance like an old married couple when the song they danced to at their wedding comes on the radio. 

I love the setting of the scene. How they’re dancing in a dirty mechanic’s shop. Jessica is dressed like the rich woman she is and Gil is wearing a plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows. The contrast is striking and beautiful. I love that Jessica isn’t trying to make Gil fit into her social status. She’s not dragging him to rich people galas and forcing him to dress or act like someone he’s not (although he would so do that for her). She’s hanging out with Gil on his turf and she’s delighted about it. <3 

 40:08 - “Do you think you can ever really know someone?” Isn’t this what Malcolm said to Gil in 1x17 as the whole Endicott thing was boiling? You know - a few episodes before the team arrests Malcolm in his loft when he’s in the middle of a mental crisis?!? Is this foreshadowing for the next mental health breakdown?!? (Hopefully a fully mental health breakdown this time?!?!)

40:18 - “Masquarading as someone he wasn’t” Yikes. Malcolm truly believes he’s lying to the team just because he’s not acting like a monster. Malcolm has truly convinced himself that he is his father’s son. 

40:45 - I don’t even care how you feel about Brightwell. The fact that Dani is the only person this whole season who has told Malcolm that he’s not a monster makes her the greatest friend he could ever ask for. 

40:51 - “Ever since Nicholas died.” ....well Dani isn’t a moron so if she didn’t connect the dots before she will now. If we don’t get an intervention next episode I’m going to throw hands. 

40:57 - Why. Does. Martin. Have. To. Ruin. Every. Chance. Malcolm. Gets. To. Begin. To. Heal?!?!

41:16 - “ooooohhhh here comes the kiss” .....honestly though. Martin is every Brightwell shipper.

41:20 - I respect the hell out of Malcolm for shutting Dani down like this. Yes - he absolutely should’ve come clean with her. HOWEVER, he clearly isn’t ready to share this burden and the fact that he shut down the progress of any romantic relationship is really good. Because Dani would be SO MAD if they started dating while he was actively lying to her. It would be the end of their friendship. Forget your Brightwell ship - they wouldn’t even be friends. 

41:40 - “Why are you ruining this!?” Dani had to have heard this. Even if she didn’t....Malcolm was pretty obviously glancing over her shoulder at hallucination!Martin before she left. There’s no way Dani - a detective - won’t be able to figure out that Malcolm is hallucinating. I WANT A MENTAL HEALTH INTERVENTION. NEXT EPISODE. I’M MANIFESTING IT INTO EXISTANCE. EVEN THOUGH I DON’T TRUST FEDAK TO GIVE IT TO ME. I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO HUG MALCOLM. 

42:06 - Honestly thought Capshaw was going to beat the crap out of Friar Pete here. This woman is unstable. Mark my words. She’s going to kill someone (if she hasn’t already). 

I know I kind of shat on this episode a bit but I honestly really liked it? I loved the character development it gave us. Even if the plot was pretty subpar. 

Thanks for hanging out. See you next week. <3 :) 

#jess-rewatches-prodigal #malcolm bright #prodigal son #gil arroyo #dani powell #JT Tarmel #ainsley whitly #martin whitly #edrisa tanaka #jessica whitly #I LOVE this show #whump #rewatch #spoliers #malcolm needs a hug #ps #so good #2x09 #2x9 #s2 #e9 #killabustas #HELL YES