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befuddled-calico-whump · 5 months

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Get Your Act Together

cw: bad coping mechanisms, alcohol, bad caretaker, adult language

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•°•°•

Chopper wasn't an unkind man. He managed the contracts of several assassins and regularly sent them out in the world to off someone, sure, but that was just business. And when a person dealt in that sort of blood, they could afford to be nice from time to time without looking too soft.

So when Cinder showed up on his doorstep like the prodigal son himself, two years since the last time he'd last laid eyes on the younger man, Chopper let him in. He put a bed in one of the unused storage rooms upstairs and told the kid to come down when he was ready.

Cinder was here for a contract. Assassins never came to Chopper unless they were after a contract. But right now, Cinder looked like he needed sleep more than a job.

Alexei Wilder wasn't Chopper's favorite employee. He didn't pick favorites. But the kid had been working for him for over a decade now, a favor to his mother, and Chopper had to admit he was more a little attached at this point. Death was a bigger part of life than usual when you called yourself a member of the Underneath, but it still hit his shop pretty hard when they'd heard of Cinder's demise.

Then, the rumors that he was alive, but a prisoner in the Tower, which may have been worse.

Then, quieter still, rumors that he was dead again. For real, this time.

And less than a week later, he was back at the base.

Asking to work.

Having Cinder around wasn't a big deal at first. Heaven and hell knew the kid could come and go in silence, so Chopper wasn't bothered.

But as weeks passed, he left less and less, and as soft as he was, Chopper knew he couldn't stand for it any longer when he finally went upstairs to check on him and a half dozen bottles clattered aside as he pushed the door open.

It was dark inside, littered with garbage and smelling of stale air and booze. Cinder wasn't in the bed, or even sprawled across the floor like Chopper had pictured him. He was sitting upright in the corner, eyes wide and wild and staring, legs coiled underneath him like he might spring to his feet and sprint away at any moment.

A half-empty bottle was clutched in one metallic hand, and Chopper knew both were, in their own way, souvenirs of the two years Cinder had been absent. The way the younger man flinched when Chopper cleared his throat wasn't lost on him.

"When's the last time you set foot outside?" he asked.

"What's that matter?" Cinder replied. His voice was gravelly, as if it had gone some days without use.

“Sunlight's good for you. Vitamin D and all that junk. Being cooped up in a room like this can't be healthy.”

“Hasn’t killed me yet.”

Chopper sighed, kicking a liquor bottle aside. “It's not an offer, Cinder. You need to go outside. You need to do something. A jigsaw puzzle, for fuck’s sake. You can't just hole up in my shop and drink yourself to death.”

“Why not?” Cinder muttered. “What's one more dead body in Neath?”

Chopper shook his head. This kid. As fond as he was of Alexei, he had a business to run. A business that was quite literally a matter of life and death. He couldn't be playing mommy.

“I get it. I do. You've gone through some shit. But moping in the dark isn't gonna erase the past. Get up. Take a shower. Go for a walk, before I drag you out of here myself.”

When Cinder ignored him, rolling over like he could block out his voice, Chopper stalked forward and grabbed him by his wrist.

He let go just as quickly when the metal flashed orange, hissing and shaking his hand.

“Don't fucking touch me,” Cinder slurred, his voice trembling. There was a look in his eyes like a cornered animal, and Chopper took a step back.

“Then get up,” he said, his voice devoid of anything sharp. He rubbed his burned hand against the front of his shirt. “I don't have to house you, Alexei. I'm doing it out of the kindness of my heart. If you can't get your act together, that kindness is going to run out real quick.”

After a moment’s consideration, Cinder stood, leaning on the wall for support, his head cocked to one side like he couldn't fully hold it up.

“Give me a contract.”

Chopper nearly stumbled over his words. "Now? You're drunk. Sleep it off, and we'll talk tomorrow.”

“Which is it? Sleep it off or get my act together? Give me a fucking contract.”

Chopper hadn't meant now, he'd just… gotten a little pissy after being ignored. At most, he'd planned to drag him to the bathroom for a wash, not send him on a job. The kid was swaying on his feet, reeking of alcohol.

But… if that was what it took to kick him into gear, maybe Chopper should let it happen. Maybe this would be good for him, getting back in the saddle.

“I'll get you one,” he said, shaking his head again. “Wait here. Maybe drink some water in the meantime.”

Cinder fell heavily onto the doorframe, fingers locked around its edges like a vise.

“Fine.”

Chopper turned away from the young assassin. He'd just find something easy. Low-stakes. Alexei was good, two years of hell couldn't change that. Even blacked out, he’d still run a clean operation, probably cleaner than some of Chopper’s contractors could do sober.

And if he didn't… if he screwed up and brought the law down on the base…

Well, every assassin knew his protection only extended so far. If things went south, Chopper didn't have to help him.

And he didn't have to let him back in.

•°•°•

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow

#wildefire #bad coping mechanisms #bad caretaker #alcohol #assassin whump #death mention tw #nightposting so i may rb tomorrow

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toadstool32 · 21 days

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5:47 am 190/300 cards. I had an alarm for 8 am I just woke up to game. Naturally.

#bad coping mechanisms #ac #tiny when sonic with a cute fit

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justplainwhump · 3 months

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Mistakes

Dany is a mess.

[Just A Fling Masterlist]

Referenced Peyton belongs to @wildfaewhump.

Content / warnings: Implied past assault (narrated from external pov), unhealthy coping mechanisms, vaguely referenced medical proceedings, referenced murder.

Kate Tabai lifts her cigarette to her lips and inhales deeply. She has taken up smoking again after the incident.

Helps with the nervous hands. And the nervous thoughts.

She's a failure. And she isn't even sure if it makes it better or worse, that the person she's failed doesn't even acknowledge it.

Dany Hammond stands tall on the stage in front of the container port's employees, tall and confident, as she always does. Chin up, shoulders straight, a winning smile on her face. She's in charge, in control, everyone can see that, even when her elegant business attire is traded for a heavy red overall and a safety helmet.

Invincible. That's what Kate has always thought about Dany.

Until that night, when she'd found her after the gala. A part of her still refuses to believe that memory even existed, that the sobbing, incoherent woman Kate carried into the car and drove through the night was, in fact, Dany Hammond.

She's taken her to a lab, one of those that were loyal to the company, that would keep everything shut off until Dany could decide what to do with it. They'd taken samples, of Dany's blood, of the traces left on her body, while she'd slowly come down from whichever drugs she's been on.

"Don't tell Dad," had been the first coherent thing she'd said to Kate. And that was it. She hadn't mentioned a word of it ever again. Dany must've gotten the lab reports at some point, Kate had seen her pull the envelope with their logo from a stack of mail some days later, with the slightest tremble of her hand. Then Dany had closed the door behind her and shut the blinds to her office. When she emerged a while later, her eyeliner had been sharper than before, her blond ponytail tied a little tighter.

"She broke up with Montgomery", her assistant had whispered conspirationally to Kate, and she'd looked past their boss and wished it were that simple.

On the stage, right now, Dany pushes a button and behind her, applauded by the crowd, the new crane hums into life. Dany grins and claps as well.

Kate can barely stand looking at her.

In her pocket, her phone vibrates.

She flicks the cigarette into the port basin, glances at the crowd again, before she answers. "Yeah?"

"Ms Tabai? It's Nora from the lab. I, uh. This is off the record. But you're the junior's security detail, right?"

The junior. Dany always hated the term. Dany hates a lot more than what she makes people see, Kate thinks. She wonders if Dany hates Kate, too.

"I am. Why?"

"The, uhm. These samples we took some weeks ago. I understood you never came back to us about it, which is perfectly fine, of course, but, uh, the DNA results popped up again."

Kate flinches. "How?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line. "We run tests for the police, too," Nora says then. "There's been a crossmatch with the DNA found in junior's case. We didn't tell them, of course not, but I... I thought you should know."

Kate reaches out to steady herself on a steel beam. "What sort of case was that?"

"Murder." Another pause. "They say it could be a series."

"Fuck," Kate whispers. "Fuck."

Rich boys can be serial killers, too, Dany had said, in that hotel, on that day that feels like a life time ago.

That day when Dany had hit it up with Peyton Montgomery for the first time.

Because of Kate.

With a shaking hand, Kate fishes for her box of cigarettes and pulls one out with her lips.

"We... we should tell the big boss, you know," Nora says. "She's his kid."

"She is my boss," Kate says around the cigarette, free hand angrily clicking her lighter, until finally a tiny flame shows up. "She handles this her way. It's her call."

"Sure, yeah," Nora doesn't sound convinced. If she's honest, Kate isn't, either. "Just... Keep her safe."

From the stage, Dany's gaze searches for Kate's, a familiar feeling under Kate's skin, that she's perfectly attuned to. In a tiny gesture, Dany points a finger towards the parking lot. They're leaving. Heliport, then board meeting. Kate knows Dany's schedule by heart. She throws away the unsmoked cigarette. She's got to pull herself together. She's good at her job. She makes no mistakes. Not ever again.

12 minute drive. 19 minutes heli ride. 120 minutes board.

Murder. Could be a series.

Dany jumps down from the stage, a perfect display; casual, healthy, confident. She shakes some hands, gives out some polite phrases and sincere smiles, while Kate falls into step by her side.

"Everything alright, K?" Dany asks over her shoulder. "You look like something happened. You need a break?"

For a moment, Kate hates her.

"It's about you." She leans in and lowers her voice. "The gala."

Dany's perfect composure rips, just for a second. Her steps turn shaky, her jaw tenses and Kate sees the eyes of the harbormaster widen when Dany's polite handshake turns into a vice-like hold. "Sorry," Dany whispers and lets go, patting his upper arm. "I must've tripped over my own feet there, I'm fine."

The man retreats with a frown, and Dany spins back to Kate.

"That didn't happen," she hisses. "It's over."

"It's not," Kate says, "There's been a murder."

Dany pales, and Kate hates herself for the flare of smug satisfaction at Dany's sudden imperfection. "Who?"

"Talk in the car," Kate says. "Come on. Let's keep moving."

Dany nods, her face shifting back into her casual smile. By her side, she's clutching her phone in her hand. She's pulled up a contact already, photo of a hand casually holding a drink, in the background a plain white shirt, the jawline of a man's smiling face.

Is supposed to be anonymous, but Kate knows exactly who the man on that photo is.

Peyton Montgomery.

Kate scoffs.

Dany Hammond is much less perfect than she wants herself to be.

#just a fling au #Dany Hammond #Kate tabai #implied past noncon #bad coping mechanisms

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occasionallyprosie · 2 months

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Frayed Edges

Alt Ending: Resewn

ORIGINAL FIC: AO3 / Tumblr

OG: The battle’s over. The Shadow is defeated and the Triforce of Power retrieved… so why is the chain still here? Why haven’t they gone home? It’s not like the Shadow has been the one that’s been making the portals the whole time… it’s not like they’re in an unknown Hyrule with no way home.

Alt: But what if Legend didn't choose that path? What if Wind woke up the night he left, forcing Legend to stay just a little longer? What if Sky had a nightmare the next time Legend almost left, also leading Legend to stay just a little longer? What if there were a thousand little longer's?

Febuwhump 2024 | Prompt 22: "You weren't supposed to be there."

Read On AO3 Warnings: Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts ----

Legend sat in the window, thoughts quietly swirling around his head. He wondered if his only option was to pin them all against a cause, become find a power for them to rally against.

The bounties worked, sending the three knights on trips had them closer than usual, but he couldn't risk sending Sky and Wars on them together anymore for how violent they've both become. But he couldn't do the others, they were too risky to send as well. Time and Twilight outright refused while Hyrule, Wind, Wild, and even Four to some extent though he still sent Four to accompany Sky or Warriors, they all were dangers unto themselves. Legend didn't want to take his eyes too far off them.

Legend sat in the window, Wind and Twilight dead asleep inside and the world awake outside. Stars gleaming and the moon shining.

He had a chance here. Something that could work.

He could be the problem, he could focus on his magic, become a proper mage and being the other heroes' (because they were heroes and at the first sign of danger they'd help, even now) opponent. Have them come back together with something to fight, then reveal his true stance at the end, make them realize more clearly that, hey, these are your brothers and half of them are suicidal while the other half borderline or outright suicide-baits them.

"Hnnn... Vet?"

Legend looked over, his face softening as Wind sat up.

"What are you doing up?"

"Just thinkin' sailor," Legend assured him, sliding out of the window and walking over to his bed. "What woke you up? Cause it wasn't me."

Wind huffed, pulling his legs up to his chest and making room for Legend to sit on the end of his bed. In the darkness, Legend could still make out how the younger hero's face contorted thoughtfully.

"You turn sixteen in a couple months, right?" Legend decided to prompt, the past two years and each birthday for all of the younger heroes had been lackluster, he hadn't tried to throw any kind of party but he did go out of his way to make sure they had at least one good present, the dinner they wanted, and cake if not a cupcake.

Wind nodded. "Yeah--Veteran, why does everyone--why do they all hate each other? Why are they constantly fighting?"

Legend laughed, he couldn't stop himself or anything, it just escaped him and a mildly hysterical laugh fell from his lips. "Oh," he chuckled, tilting his head to the ceiling for a brief moment before meeting Wind's eyes, "sailor, I've been asking myself that for over two years now."

He wanted to know what changed. He wanted to know why Time would so horribly tear apart all three both of his successors. He wanted to know why Twilight would snap at Wild and yell at Four. He wanted to know why Sky and Warriors acted more and more like the knights of his first adventure. He wanted to know why Four was just as bad as Sky and Warriors one day, as harsh as Time the next day, but also as despondent as Hyrule the next; of course he knew how, four people processing grief in the same body would result in that, but why did they react like that? He just wanted to know why none of them were themselves.

He wanted to know why he felt like his only option was to go nuclear? Why did he feel like everything around him, this little life he's made out of shear will, was only held together by a single thread and he was that thread, desperately trying to make more?

"Vet," Legend pulled himself from his spiraling thoughts and noticed Twilight had turned over in his bed, brows furrowed and clearly a bit asleep though he was awake, "what's wrong wit' you?"

Legend snorted. "I'm fine, Rancher. Go back to sleep."

Wind frowned.

"You too, sailor," Legend chided. He went and closed the window before he moved to his bed. "It's late and someone needs to be up to take care of the animals in the morning."

Little did any of the three know that the fact that Wind woke up at that particular moment, and that he verbally revealed to Legend that he had noticed the changes in the group since the quest, would have a rather large impact on their veteran's decisions.

At the very least, he didn't leave that night.

Legend inhaled slowly as he heard Warriors screaming at Twilight and the Rancher giving as good as he got.

Just split them up, you've done it a thousand times before. Yeah, a thousand times too many.

"Veteran?" Wind was beside him, having gone with him to town.

"Sorry, take these to the shed, I should go break that up."

Wind frowned but didn't argue as Legend dragged himself into the house. Warriors and Twilight were screaming at each other about something stupid with the barn Legend had asked them to start on, but Hyrule was right there and his eyes were too dead.

Something in him snapped.

"Why?" He asked, forcing his voice not to snap as badly as his temper, forcing his expression to mellow in exasperation and not screw up in fury.

Neither of them blinked, continuing to argue. They hadn't even noticed him speak.

"Just acknowledge the people around you, it's that simple," he muttered. He grabbed a wooden bowl normally filled with fruit --he and Wind had bought some fresh ones to refill it with-- and threw it at them.

The sound of it hitting Warriors' face was so worth it. Maybe Legend needed to go on a bounty mission except no, he couldn't, because he couldn't leave these idiots alone for a day before they were at each other's or their own throats.

"Go," he ordered before either could explode on him. "Just--Get the hell out of the house."

"I am tired of you acting like you’re the boss!" Warriors snarled. "I'm tired of you acting like everything is okay!"

"Yeah well so am I!" Legend retorted, fuse cut short and burnt. "I'm tired of having to break apart another stupid, useless, dumb fight every day!"

"Yea' well, if some people wou'da jus' use the brain they were given," Twilight growled with a sharp glare at Warriors.

"Maybe you should use yours and get out."

"There it is again--"

Legend pushed past them to drop down on his knees in front of Hyrule.

"Rulie, look at me. Stay here, please?"

"Why?" Asked the traveler who hadn't left their little home since the beginning. Warriors scoffed and made to make some comment, but Twilight grabbed his arm and forced him out of the house while Legend responded.

"I know you want to leave, but please, stay with me," Legend encouraged softly.

"They hate each other," Hyrule whined.

"They don’t, they're just hurting. It's going to be okay, I promise. I'll make sure of it."

Hyrule just shook his head, quietly disagreeing.

Not for the first time lately, Legend silently agreed with the younger hero in front of him.

The world outside had always looked enticing. Legend couldn't remember the last time he actually went and explored, it might've been during the quest but he was also supposed to be one of the responsible ones, so he's pretty sure he stuck to paths then. Maybe it had been Lorule... maybe it had been Hyrule between adventures. He couldn't remember and he just wanted to go.

Of course, that wasn't happening. He had a job to do and it was holding this mess of what used to be a family together.

He could just leave, they wouldn't notice at first and he could go take the Triforce of Power. Hyrule would notice that and then he'd burn down a village or create some magic golems and attack one. It would be hard to fabricate the danger, he didn't want to hurt anyone, but he needed to make them think he was a threat.

He was about to put his hat on and climb out the window when he heard someone scream.

He burst into the next room and was beside Sky's bed before Time or Four could get out of their beds. He caught Sky's hands and hummed, gently coaxing him into releasing his grip on his hair and the pressure of his nails digging into his skull.

"Hey, Link, you’re safe," he murmured along with various other platitudes and grounding phrases.

Sky sobbed, curling in on himself, whispering about it being all his fault.

A few heads poked in, but quickly left.

After Sky finally fell asleep, Legend stayed another hour before he went back to bed himself. He was thankful that the group hadn't completely fallen and used their nightmares against each other.

Legend stared at the lightened but not yet dawn-lit sky out their window.

Goddesses, he was tired.

"You know, these cakes are the only thing anyone does for our birthdays," Wild said as Legend tried to ice the cake with a goat butter buttermilk icing. His grandmother taught him to make buttermilk and buttermilk icing, but that had been with cow milk. He figured it was close enough and it seemed to be fine...

"Sorry it's not more," Legend said. "I'd prefer to do more, especially for yours and the Traveler's twentieths, the Smithy's eighteenth, and the Sailor's sixteenth."

"No, it's--it's nice," Wild admitted, he glanced out the window. "It's not like anyone else does anything."

Legend hummed. "Don’t be too harsh on them," he reminded the younger hero. "They're working through things, same as you."

"You’re not."

"Ah," he shot him a smirk, "I'm too busy working through your guys' problems to deal with my own."

Wild snorted. Legend grinned when he heard it, Wild had been getting more expressive in recent days, but that also had him being much more sorrowful, which was why Legend was even more careful with his younger brother. But these moments, when Wild was almost himself, Legend could fall back three years and pretend that he wasn't holding on by a thread.

"Yeah right," Wild chuckled. "I forgot you’re the new mom in the te--group."

Not much of a team anymore, Legend agreed. "I'm pretty sure that you are the last one who can say anything about mothers."

That got a proper laugh out of the Champion.

"Fair enough. Hey do I need to go get the Sailor?"

"If you want. I can get him myself."

"Eh, I'll see if anyone else wants to sing with us."

Legend smiled as Wild wandered off, setting the finished cake on the table. Past years and attempted events like this have always failed, holidays ignored because of old memories, birthdays ignored because of high tensions between each other, the best one thus far was Hyrule's twentieth two months ago when Legend had mentioned what day it was to Wind who spread it to Wild and Sky, and the four of them had somewhat celebrated with Hyrule, but it was the same as whatever may happen now with Wind.

He finished the cake well enough when Wild came back with Wind, Sky, Hyrule, and most surprisingly Twilight.

Legend placed the last candle in the cake, the sixteenth, and he hesitated.

"Traveler, think you can light these?"

Hyrule startled, then he nodded and a moment later fire magic spilled from his fingers and the candles were lit... and the buttercream was slightly golden but it looked good.

"Nice job!" Wind nudged him.

"It's not that cool," he muttered, tugging on the thick sleeves of the goat wool coat Wind made him.

"Didn't you say that precision with destructive magic like that is actually pretty complex?" Wind challenged. "Pretty cool."

Legend smiled softly.

"Thanks... Happy birthday, Sailor."

Wind looked over at the cake now, something sad in his eyes. "Thank you."

"Make a wish," Legend encouraged. He knew it was childish, they all did, but nobody said anything (Time and Warriors both would've made a scathing comment, Legend was certain of that. Four might've, depending on his mood).

Wind closed his eyes, then he blew the candles out.

I wish we could all go home.

The same wish he made both of his previous birthdays. Childish though it may be, he had to at least try.

Wind cut the cake and managed to get everyone to take a slice. There was just enough for him to divide the remainder into three decent slices and he plated all of them.

"Here," Legend murmured as he appeared beside him, he picked up two of the plates. "Go ahead, I'll carry these behind you."

Wind nodded. He took the third plate and headed toward the forge, knowing Four had gone straight there after a dinner he'd been practically forced to eat.

He kicked lightly on a table, Legend remaining outside and unseen.

Four looked up with a glare. "Go away, Sailor."

"I brought cake," he said softly. "It's just strawberry, the vet still can't find a merchant with vanilla, but it's pretty good this time."

"We don't want it."

Wind inhaled carefully. He was realizing rapidly how awful things here were, how bad of condition everyone was in. A nightmare of them killing each other had hit him a while back and since then he couldn't help but see it slowly becoming reality.

He tried since then. He was trying. Be more patient, be more present, don’t let Legend keep worrying about him and being too close to heights.

"Alright," he conceded but set the cake to the side. "It's right here. I think they added honey to it, it's really sweet..." he hesitated and Four was clearly ignoring him.

His eyes changed colors, always had, but it was obvious especially now.

Wind smiled. "Later then."

He exited and Legend stepped away from a fence he was sitting on while he waited, a distance away and out of earshot.

"Thanks," he chirped as he took one of the plates. "I think the captain's over that way."

The veteran smiled. "Yeah, he mentioned checking the perimeter this morning and knowing him he hasn't come back."

Wind nodded. He gathered his courage once he spotted the gleaming pauldron the war captain wore.

"Wait here?" Legend nodded when he made the request. Wind walked toward Warriors, who saw him approaching and glanced behind him at Legend's fading form.

Wind held out the plate and cake. "I brought you a slice."

Warriors gave him an annoyed look. "Go back inside kid."

Wind clenched his jaw, back teeth grinding. "I'm not a kid."

"Yeah, you--"

"I'm sixteen. You said once I hit majority then I wasn't a kid. Because for some reason maturity and experience meant nothing to you."

He saw Warriors freeze, then he rolled his eyes, that defensive flame burning clearly.

"Fine. Go away, Sailor."

Wind tightened his grip on the plate, the cake shaking slightly from how tight he held it.

"Alright," he agreed, smiling best he could. "I'll put it on the counter for you."

Warriors stared at him for a long moment before he scoffed lowly and marched off.

Wind swallowed the lump in his throat. He still remembered his twelfth birthday, the one he celebrated during the War of Eras... when the Captain had put him on his shoulders and paraded him around their camp, when Mask had played his ocarina during the birthday song, when Ravio gave him a pair of hover boots, when Marin helped the cooks make some proper island food... That had been a great birthday, only could have been better if his grandma and Aryll had been there. But if Wind had told himself, had told Tune, that in four years Mask and the Captain would hate him and tell him he should actually take that too-tempting leap...

Tune would've killed him on the spot for badmouthing his brothers. Wind wished he still held such trust in them, but at this point, it was only faith and hope that had him clinging to the idea that one day Time and Warriors would be themselves again.

He headed back to Legend and went to track down Time.

Their eldest was in Hyrule's fairy and bee garden.

"Hey, old man?" Wind called, Legend hidden a distance back and out of earshot. "We made cake and I brought you some."

The glare shot at him sent a pang through his chest.

"I'm fine."

Wind took a careful breath as he dared draw closer. He had to try. "You sure? It's strawberry and I think they used--"

"I said I'm fine." The snap was sharp enough to cut him. It was harsh and Wind flinched back. "Gods. Why won't you just leave me alone? Leave us all alone? You're so clingy and pushy. I'm tired of it."

Wind swallowed hard. He shakily placed the cake on the fence. "S-Sorry--"

"And you think apologies mean anything. Apologies mean shit if you don't actually do something about it. For once just do us all a favor and go away."

Wind flinched back, Time hadn't even so much as looked back at him. He clenched his jaw tightly, trying to hide how it trembled. He left the plate on the fence post and walked away.

Oceans, the roof was looking tempting again.

Legend was waiting, he raised an eyebrow and Wind just shook his head.

"It's alright, Sailor," he murmured softly. "They'll come back around eventually."

He wanted to cry. He was sixteen now damnit, he wasn't allowed to cry anymore, but goddesses did he want to.

"I know," he whispered, voice strained. "I know."

Legend squeezed his shoulder and walked with him back inside.

Why couldn't they just get along?

Legend needed to calm down. He needed to step away and just... just--

He left the property and just walked until he deemed himself far enough away.

Time had gotten into another argument with Twilight, he'd called the rancher names, Twilight threw a few of his own back, and before Legend could intervene Wind had done it.

Sweet, clinging Wind who was the only one Legend trusted these days with an ounce of his sanity. The child had jumped between them and told them to cut it out--and they both directed their fury onto the teenager.

Wind maintained composure and Legend got there to help finish splitting them up, a screaming match going off. Then Wind muttered an apology to Legend before locking himself in their closet. He promised he would stay, but then wouldn't say another word to the veteran.

Then Legend caught Four reaching his hand into the forge's fire. He had barely ran over to prevent total nerve damage, heal and wrap it, and comfort the promptly sobbing teen who said he just wanted to go home.

Once he took Four to his room to rest and heal, he then found Warriors and Hyrule fighting, which was a new occurrence, and it was bad.

It felt like everything that could go wrong, did go wrong today.

He just needed a minute.

So, in the middle of the woods, far from anyone, Legend looked up at the sky.

"What did I do wrong?" He asked the sky, the goddesses. "Did I miss something? Was there a dungeon we were supposed to do, an item we're meant to find here? I get it, if this is how it is, fine. Okay. But--"

He laughed, it was a bit hysterical, a bit pained, a bit unstable.

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING WRONG!" He screamed, voice breaking and he dug his nails into his skull. "I'M TRYING! I AM TRYING SO HARD TO KEEP US TOGETHER AND--"

He just screamed. He screamed his voice hoarse as his legs gave out and he finally felt tears slip down his face.

"I don’t know what I did wrong," he sobbed. "I did the work. I protected your bloodlines, your oracles, your triforce. I saved the world time and time again, I restored light to a darkened realm, I returned displaced people to their own worlds, I calmed the seas when I woke the Wind Fish--I served you. And I did it obediently; happily and willingly and promptly."

He let out a pained laugh, a pained sob.

"So why can't--I've done it right half a dozen times so why can't I FIX THIS ONE?!" He shut his eyes. "WHY--" his voice broke again. "Why," he repeated, voice trembling, "can't I just fix this one? Why can't I help them be happy? Why can't I just--Why am I the only one who actually cares?! Why is this stupid, soft, bleeding heart still caring?! Why can't it just stop. Why can't I just stop and just leave? I can't..."

He choked, hands covering his mouth as he finally broke. That final thread finally snapped.

"I can't... I can't watch them get themselves killed, kill themselves or each other, but I can't stay anymore without killing myself. I can't though. I can't do that because I have to help them. I have to make them see each other again. I have responsibilities and it's killing me."

He dropped his head completely, forehead to the ground in something of a bow as he hugged himself tightly.

"I JUST--" he sobbed. "I just want them to be happy! So why--why..." he trailed out, choking on three years suppressed emotions, "why does it feel like it'll cost me my life?

"V-Vet?"

His blood ran cold.

Legend jerked himself up and around. Sky was standing there with one of his cucoos... one of the ones that run away all the time.

He jerked his sleeve over his face. "Goddess--Sky, I--Sorry--I'm just--You weren't meant to hear that--I mean--"

Sky released the cucoo and dropped in front of him, knees touching his own and hands flying up. "Whoa, hey, breathe."

Legend inhaled sharply, Sky's hands cupping his face and brushing away his tears.

"It's okay," he promised softly. "Oh, goddesses Vet..."

He couldn't stop crying. He couldn't stop crying and sucking in large, shallow breaths only to expel it in an instant. He couldn't breathe.

"How long have you been holding onto this?" Sky whispered, carding a hand through his hair gently while taking his hand and pressing it to his own chest, his eyes filled with surprise, concern, and most of all, realization. "You've been playing peacekeeper forever now... and to no reward or renown or anything. Oh goddess, I am so sorry."

"I'm sorry, I can't--" he sucked in another gasp, trying to mimic Sky's breathing but it wasn't working, "I can't--I just want it--I can't anymore--Sky, please."

"It's okay. It's going to be okay." Sky soothed, pulling him into his chest. "We'll figure it out. You know..." he trailed off a bit, as if coming to another realization, "Wind's been trying to play peacekeeper too, and I--I'll help. I'll try. I know I've been short fused, I know, but I'll do better I swear. We can fix this."

"I can't," Legend all but whimpered those words. "I just--I'm so tired. I can't fix this. I've been trying, I have, I promise I have. I have been trying so hard for so long, I can't do this."

Sky shushed him softly. "I know--You've done so well." He pulled away, cradling Legend's face and he was gentle and warm and kind.

Legend wanted to melt, he wanted to hold onto this feeling forever. Even if his skin felt on fire and his brain was frigid, even if everything was awful and he couldn't breathe, Sky was being Sky. He was being patient, he was being calm and kind, he was being so stupidly kind and gentle and everything he hadn't been for three years.

"You have done amazing," Sky told him so softly. "We haven't made it easy for you and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for that. But I'll do better, I swear. You aren't--You aren't alone."

Tears welled up again and Legend slumped into Sky's chest. He choked out stuttering, shuddering breaths, whispering a quiet, "Please, I can't do it anymore."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," Sky murmured in response, hugging him tightly. "But we'll figure it out. I'm so sorry."

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uuuhshiny · 1 year

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Russell Crowe in Les Misérables

I'll escape now from that world From the world of Jean Valjean

#by uuuhshiny #Russell Crowe #Les Misérables #whumpril2023 #whumprilday6 #Bad coping mechanisms #yes it is #Both singing and suicide #uuuhshiny's gifs #whumpedit #RC gifs

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leeb-leefuh-lurve · 9 months

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#meme #mental illness #bpd #lol fml #bpd life #bpd things #bpd meme #funny #bad coping mechanisms #self care

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 6 months

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Whump Prompt #1298

Whumptober #30: "It's okay, just to say, I'm not okay."

Song: I'm Not Okay - Chris Catalyst

Your caretaker watches as the whumpee tears themselves apart, and waits for them to accept help.

'Heartache hiding in plain sight' - Your whumpee is no good at hiding their emotions. When they think no-one is looking they let their mask fall, but the caretaker is always there to see the distant look in their eyes.

'If you’re reeling off the rails.' - The whumpee partakes in self-destructive activities. Maybe it's obvious, maybe it's not, either way it has a blatant affect on their relationships and body.

'There's no burden to explain' - The caretaker wants to scream this at the whumpee. They want to grab them by the shoulders and tell them that it's alright - please, you're allowed to confide in me.

'We can sit and talk all night' - When your whumpee finally breaks, your caretaker knows it wont be a simple chat over dinner. It's going to be messy and emotional and at an inconvenient time. But the whumpees need for help overrides the discomfort of staying up late. The caretaker vows to listen for as long as they need, because the whumpee was beginning to severely worry them.

'My home is your home, 'Cause sometimes I, Feel like you, too' - Perhaps the caretaker had gone through a similar situation - maybe they can sympathise with the whumpee. They've said time and time again that their home is the whumpees home (maybe they share the house), but the whumpee insists that they're okay - that they don't want to get in their way.

'I can make the tea and I can make the time' - If the whumpee 'doesn't have the time', then the caretaker was going to physically make it, even if they have to rearrange the whumpees calendar to get them so slow down.

'So if your conscious needs a clean. Maybe a dose of dopamine Loosen ligatures and wrap yourself in me' - The caretaker sees how the whumpee shy's from touch, and almost makes it their mission to give the person a hug - a meaningful hug that tells them that the whumpee is not at fault for feeling the way they do/reacting the way they have. Their actions are forgivable - everyone processes their experiences differently.

'Any day, any time I'm not a judge, there isn't a crime It's okay, just to say I'm not okay' - Eventually the whumpee does come knocking. They're sheepish and ashamed but trembling like a leaf. "I'm sorry." They say, crying, followed by "I'm not okay."

#long post #whumptober2023 #whump #writing #prompts #angst #worry #bad coping mechanisms #comfort #song prompt #not really a narrative to this #but I like the idea of a caretaker watching the whumpee destroy themselves before accepting help

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arnesisapseudonym · 11 months

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my therapist: I think, from my previous observations, that we probably need to process your trauma. If we don't, this 'nothing matters' mindset will continue to grow and impact your life. So, in short, if we don't do this, you'll only know more suffering-

me (laying in starfish position on her floor): Mama didn't raise a pussy. Let me suffer.

#tw self destruction #therapy #bad coping mechanisms #mental illness #i'm really fucked up #ramblings #vent but its comedy #ptsd #npd safe

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drabbles-mc · 1 year

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Doctor Recommended

Nestor Oceteva & Erin Thomas

For Day 6 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: painkillers/bad coping mechanisms

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, mentions of pills

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: In a twist that is shocking to no one at all, I do have a bigger fic about these two sitting in my wip folder as we speak. It exists completely separate from this one-shot, but it does exist. Despite the fact that the two of them have never shared a single second of screentime, you can catch me constantly thinking about Nestor and Erin together anyway. No one can stop me. 😌

Mayans Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @yourwonkywriter @gemini0410 @mijagif @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @anditsmywholeheart @artemiseamoon @nessamc @crowfootwrites @beardburnsupersoldiers @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @justazzi @passionatewrites @darqchilddaydreamz @camelia35 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

The house was silent as Nestor made his way through to the kitchen. Despite the fact that the last forty-eight hours had gone horrendously, and that his right arm was now strapped down in a sling, he still was pulling his overnight watch at the Galindo house. Realistically, he didn’t know how much use he would be if something were to happen, but the house had yet to be ambushed in the dead of night so he figured it would be a relatively safe and easy shift.

For the few hours that he’d been there so far, everything had been quiet. Everyone was upstairs and, presumably, asleep. The house was as close to silent as it would ever be. Most of what he’d been doing was just patrolling and making sure that nothing looked like it was out of the ordinary.

Even though it’d been an uneventful night so far, it didn’t stop the shooting pain in his shoulder that was quickly starting to travel down his arm. The doctor had given him painkillers when he’d initially gotten checked out. The pain hadn’t been bad enough, in Nestor’s opinion, to warrant them yet. However, he also had no intention of spending the entire night in pain. So he made his way to the kitchen with the intention of finally taking a couple of the pills to at least take a bit of the edge off.

Erin was quietly making her way back to her room upstairs from the bathroom when she heard noises coming from downstairs. If it had been anyone else’s house, she would’ve assumed that it was nothing, but it wasn’t just anyone’s house. She didn’t pretend to know all the details of what Miguel got up to when he left the house, but she knew that things hadn’t been going well lately. After all, there was no other reason that the man would’ve called her and invited her to the house.

She was regretting all of that as she crept down the stairs and started making her way towards the noise. She knew that it was an ill-informed decision—it wasn’t like she had any weapons on her and she had no interest in getting into a brawl with an intruder, but it was too late now. She was too committed to the plan.

The closer she got to rounding the corner to get into the kitchen, the better she could make out some of the actual sounds. She heard someone grumbling but she couldn’t quite make out the words. Then she heard something clattering against the countertops. Her heart felt like it was starting to creep up into her throat as she tried to brace herself for rounding the corner.

She stepped into the kitchen with more speed and gusto than necessary, and with more than she thought she would be able to muster given the late hour. She was holding her breath, eyes wide as she looked around to see who was in the house and what was going on.

Her sudden appearance caught Nestor off-guard. The still-closed pill bottle in his hands slipped from his grasp and clattered against the counter again. He whipped around to face her, having to reach with his non-dominant hand for his gun, the motion much slower than it would’ve been if he actually had use of his right arm.

That turned out to be a good thing for both of them, though. In the time that it took for him to try and reach for his gun, he realized that it was only Erin, and the extra couple of seconds that she had on him because of her silent approach allowed her to see that it was only Nestor. As much as she hated that Miguel always seemed to have people wandering around the house at all hours, she was glad that he was at least supposed to be there.

“Fuck me,” she said, the words sounding more like a sigh of relief than anything else.

Nestor was struggling to re-holster his gun, eyes trained on that rather than Erin as he asked, “What are you doing up?”

She walked deeper into the kitchen, landing herself on the opposite side of the island from him. “I thought I heard someone breaking in to try and, I don’t know, kill everyone.” Even with her hushed voice, the sarcasm was impossible to miss.

He lifted his eyes and looked at her, eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of her in a ratty, over-sized t-shirt and pajama shorts. All he could think was that if he had been someone breaking in, Erin wouldn’t have posed much of a threat. “Planned on being the first to go?”

She laughed quietly and rolled her eyes. “Big talk coming from the guy who can’t pull his gun right now.” She leaned forward so that her forearms were braced against the countertop. “Why are you even here? Like, are you even useful right now?”

Nestor would’ve taken more time to be annoyed by her commentary if he hadn’t been so busy battling it out with the bottle of pills in his hand. “Useful enough,” he grumbled out.

An amused grin came over her lips as she watched him struggle. “Yea, I see that.”

Nothing more was said between the two of them as Nestor continued to fiddle with the bright orange bottle of pills. Erin perched her chin in her hand as she watched him. She could’ve easily gone back to bed, but she knew that she wasn’t going to fall back to sleep anytime soon so there was no point. Instead, she kept herself camped out on the opposite side of the island, perfectly content while Nestor had growing frustration to pair with his intensifying pain.

Erin wouldn’t have had any problem popping the top off the bottle of pills for him, but she wanted him to ask for the help. She didn’t have any specific problem with Nestor that made her want to watch him struggle, but she knew that it really wouldn’t kill him to just ask for some assistance.

He could feel her eyes on him as his left hand wrapped around the bottle and tried to get the top off. As if being in pain wasn’t enough, now he had an audience to his temporary incompetence. He didn’t have to be looking at her to know that she was getting a kick out of it all, probably scheming up some smart remarks. He was no stranger at this point to being on the end of those, but the pain he was in made him a little less tolerant of it all.

A couple different times he tried to use the hand of his arm that was bound in the sling. Each time, though, he was reminded that everything in his arm and hand were connected because another jolt of pain would go through him when he attempted to put apply any kind of pressure with that hand.

Letting out a deep sigh, he fought the urge to just slam the plastic bottle against the countertop. His left hand was clamped down tightly over the lid, and even in the low lighting of the kitchen Erin could see the clench in his jaw as he tried not to throw the entire thing across the house.

His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath, ready to make another futile attempt at it all. Erin didn’t know how long the two of them had actually been standing there on either side of the island, but it was far too long for so little reward. The second he lifted the bottle off the countertop, Erin leaned over the island, nearly lifting her feet off the floor in the process of reaching, and snatched the bottle out of his hand.

“I can’t fuckin’ watch this anymore,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“I—”

“No you don’t,” she didn’t allow him to try and argue. It took her all of five seconds to get the lid off. She handed the bottle back over to him, keeping the lid to herself as she spun it on the counter like it was a coin she’d found along the way.

Her hand toyed idly with the cap to the bottle while she watched Nestor set the bottle down before turning around and stepping over towards the cupboards where all of the glasses and plates were kept. Reaching up, he pulled the door to one open and grabbed a glass tumbler for himself. Erin assumed that he was going to put it under the sink faucet and fill it with water. Instead, though, he set the glass down on the counter and reached for one of the bottles of whiskey intermingled among hers and Emily’s numerous bottles of wine.

That was a bottle that he was able to get the cap off of with no problem. Erin chuckled as she watched him pour a fairly generous amount of the liquor into the glass that he’d gotten. He screwed the cap back onto the bottle, sliding it back into place before moving the glass to the island where the open bottle of pills sat.

Everything felt like it took so many more steps than necessary when he only had use of one hand. He set the glass down and grabbed the pill bottle, shaking two out onto the counter before setting the bottle back down. He swiped the pills up and tossed them into his mouth, holding them there for a moment as he grabbed the glass of whiskey. He took a large sip to wash the pills down. Once that was done, he took another sip for good measure before setting the glass back down.

Erin was watching the entire thing, chuckling to herself as she did. “Yea,” she said when Nestor set the glass back down, “I think that’s exactly how the doctors recommend you take those.” She ignored Nestor’s lack of a response as she reached across the counter for the bottle again. Making a big show of turning the bottle in her hand and reading the label, she said, “Right here, actually. Make sure to take with copious amounts of alcohol.”

Nestor shook his head at her as he drummed his fingers on the outside of his glass. He knew her well enough to know that whether or not he gave her an argument about it, she was going to keep talking anyway. Every day he wondered how she and Emily came from the same family. He and his brother had been different, sure, but nothing like the two of them.

Erin half-expected Nestor to tell her to go back to bed. Or, at the very least, simply walk away from her and out of the kitchen. It wasn’t as though he was chatty with her under the best circumstances, let alone a night like this. But still, he hadn’t left, hadn’t tried to send her away.

“So, what happened, anyway?” she asked, her voice so much quieter than it usually was.

He was so caught off-guard by how genuine she sounded when she asked that he almost gave her the answer. He opened his mouth to tell her, but stopped himself. Instead, he just shook his head. “Nothing.”

Erin sighed, shaking her head as she fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Yea, last time I ended up popping painkillers with my arm strapped down it was also because of nothing.”

She waited for him to have some sort of response, something passive-aggressive and dismissive all at once. But he was silent. The two of them stayed across from each other, silently staring at each other and waiting for the other to have something to say. If history was evidence to anything, it was that Erin was going to have something to say first. However, it seemed like she was determined to get him to speak up for once.

He knew that getting into any of it with her was going to do more harm than good. There was nothing that she could do about it, no help that she could offer. And if she was already paranoid about whoever was in the house, telling her about the threats they were dealing with outside the house on a regular basis wasn’t going to help ease any of her unrest.

Instead of offering her anything substantial, he asked, “Can you put the cap back on that?”

She watched as he nodded towards the pill bottle that was sitting in front of her. Her knee-jerk reaction was to be petty and tell him to do it himself. He saw it in her eyes that she didn’t want to make things easy for him if he wasn’t going to offer her any kind of answers. But the harshness in her eyes only lasted for a moment before it softened slightly and she put the cap back on for him. Her concession to that was the most she’d ever seemed to be like Emily in the entire time that Nestor had known her.

“Next time you gotta open it, you’re on your own,” she said as she slid it across the counter to him.

A tiny smirk pulled at the one end of his mouth, but he didn’t say anything, instead giving a short nod of acknowledgment. He stood there waiting, assuming from her tone and her comment that she was going to go back to bed. Instead of leaving him to his own devices, Erin walked around to the other side of the island and grabbed her own glass. Nestor watched her intently, wondering what she was going to grab for herself. Much to his surprise, she reached for the same bottle that he had only a short while before.

She poured herself a smaller portion than Nestor had poured for himself. Once she put the cap back on, she stepped back to the island, her and Nestor now both on the same side. Setting her glass out of harm’s way, she hoisted herself up so that she was sitting on the edge of the counter, legs dangling over the edge of it. Nestor didn’t comment on it or try to move away from her. He watched as she grabbed her cup and took a sip, cringing slightly as it went down.

The silence between them was welcome, comfortable even. It wasn’t often that the two of them found themselves in each other’s company with no one else around. Typically wherever Nestor was, Miguel or Emily wasn’t far behind. There were a million questions that Erin wanted to ask since it was just the two of them for once, but she was smart enough to know that she wouldn’t get the answers to any of them.

“Future reference,” she finally broke the silence as she toyed with the glass in her hands, “the wine is way better.”

It was the first time Erin had ever heard Nestor let out anything reminiscent of a laugh or a chuckle. She chalked it up to the painkillers finally starting to kick in. He nodded in acknowledgment as he picked up his glass and brought it back to his lips, taking another sip without a word.

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whumprilday6 #painkillers #bad coping mechanisms #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva fanfic #nestor oceteva imagine #erin thomas #erin thomas fanfiction #nestor oceteva x erin thomas #erin thomas x nestor oceteva #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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whump-about-it · 1 year

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Salve/ Pain Killers/ Bad Coping Mechanisms

@whumpril day 6

CW: swearing, drug abuse, implied slavery, suggestion of alcohol abuse

Caretaker watched as Whumpee held their hand in front of their face and spread their fingers, examining the damage of their latest fight. Caretaker had managed to get the bleeding to stop before Whumpee insisted they stop toughing them. They were surprised Whumpee had let them do that much since they had a bad habit of insisting they could do everything on their own.

There was a nasty cut on Whumpee's palm and a bite mark below their thumb. Their knuckles were bruised and cut, and Caretaker could now see how their wrist was swelling and the way they winced when they rotated their hand. No wonder they had wanted Caretaker to stop touching them, they had been holding them by the wrist.

"Here" Caretaker pulled some salve from their first aid kit and held it out to Whumpee who looked at it suspiciously. "Put it on the cuts it should help them heal."

"What kind of bullshit is that?" Whumpee huffed but took the salve anyway.

"Modern medicine. Something you'd know a little bit about if you ever went to a hospital."

"I hate doctors" Whumpee told Caretaker flatly for about the 500th time since they'd met. Caretaker had never met anyone who consistently needed a doctor more, or had seen one less. They supposed that was why they kept them around. Caretaker was by no means a medical professional, but they knew the basics. Including how not to ask too many questions.

Caretaker watched as Whumpee applied the salve, then passed over the gauze and bandages.

"You should really get your wrist x-rayed though"

"It's just a sprain." Whumpee insisted. "I've broken it before, I know what it feels like."

"Of course you've broken it before" Caretaker mumbled to themselves, then raised their voice "At least buy a brace for it so you don't hurt it more."

"A brace won't fit it with the bandages."

"It would if you did an actual medical wrap."

Both Caretaker and Whumpee looked down at Whumpee's hand. They had used up almost the entire roll of gauze bandaging it. Only instead of bandaging their hand Whumpee had absentmindedly wrapped it as though they were going to be boxing.

"Oh," Whumpee muttered uncomfortably. Their normally stoic exterior cracked a bit as they began to unwrap the excess gauze. "Sorry."

By the time Whumpee finished rerolling the unneeded gauze Caretaker had had enough of watching them wince at the pain of trying to hold their wrist still.

Caretaker got up and poured Whumpee a glass of water, handing it to them as they began to rummage through the first aid kit again.

"Got anything stronger?"

"Yep" Caretaker pulled the bottle of painkillers they had been looking for out of the first aid kit and held them out to Whumpee. Their reaction was instantious, but no where near the reaction Caretaker had been expecting.

Whumpee jumped out of their seat as though Caretaker had just brandished a gun at them and took several steps backwards.

"What the hell Caretaker!" They cried. "Put those away!"

"Seriously!" Caretaker cried back "They're just pain killers. I'm not trying to poison you!"

"Just put them away Caretaker. Please."

"Fine!" Caretaker relented only because they weren't sure they had ever seen that look on Whumpee's face before. "What were you planning on taking for your hand then?"

"Nothing" Whumpee insisted sitting back down, though they still looked oddly uncomfortable.

"You can't be serious! That's a bad sprain! And the cut on you palm has got to be killing you."

"It's not that bad."

"You always say that. But I can see you flinching. Are you some kind of sadist or something?"

"First of all, the word you're looking for is masochist. And secondly, don't be gross." Whumpee huffed. They looked back down at their hand, winced for the umpteenth time then looked back up at Caretaker who raised an expectant eyebrow. Caretaker was a patient person. But their patience only went so far, and Whumpee couldn't really expect them not want an explanation.

"You know how I used to work for Whumper right?" Whumpee said after a long silence.

"Yes" Caretaker answered not able to totally keep the distain out of their voice. They hadn't known Whumpee then. Nor had they ever met Whumper. And Whumpee had only ever brought them up a few times. But they had heard through the grape vine that saying Whumpee had "worked" for Whumper was a bit of a stretch. It implied they had had a choice in the matter.

Whumpee ignored Caretaker's tone and carded their good hand through their hair.

"They like fighting. They liked when I fought. They'd make me do it a lot. It didn't matter if I was still injured from the last one. Concussions, broken hands, cracked ribs. If I could still swing, I could fight."

"Luckily, Whumper had a friend... A doctor, as long as we're putting everything on the table. They used to get me free pain killers to manage all my injuries. They didn't seem to care about what or how much I was taking as long as I was keeping up with Whumper's demands."

"Pretty quickly I figured out that they worked just as well for the mental pain as they did the physical. Even after I got out, it took me a long time before I stopped taking them. And if I'm being honest the only reason I did was because I couldn't afford the habit. It wasn't until I was clean that I realized how fucked up the whole thing was. Anyway, I'd rather just deal with the pain than go back to that."

The two sat in silence for awhile while Caretaker tried to process everything Whumpee had just told them. It explained a lot. Like why they hated doctors. And why they liked picking fights.

"I'm sorry." Caretaker finally said "I didn't know."

"Well I don't try and advertise it." Whumpee said with a shrug and a half smile.

"Understood" Caretaker responded "Can I at least get you some ice though? For the swelling?"

"Yeah, I don't have a problem with ice. And a beer if you've got any."

"Sure thing" Caretaker said over their shoulder on their way to the freezer. "But you know alcohol is a slippery slope too."

"Let me deal with one problem at a time." Whumpee called back.

#whump #whumpril #whumprilday6 #caretaker x whumpee #whumpee x caretaker #salve #pain killers #bad coping mechanisms #tw drug addiction #past abuse #stoic whumpee

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befuddled-calico-whump · 3 months

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Miles to Go Before I Sleep

cw: alcoholism, bad coping mechanisms, referenced violence, emeto

previous /// Wildefire Masterlist ///

°•°•°

Alexei trudged back to Chopper’s with the sunrise to his back, dried blood crusting the seams in his arms. Some was his, some was the mark’s, a loan shark he'd made quick work of, though it had taken most of the night to catch him alone.

He was exhausted, hopefully exhausted enough to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, hopefully exhausted enough to dream of nothing. He doubted he'd be that lucky.

This was all he'd ever hoped for in the last two years. Of being free, of life going back to business as usual. So why couldn't he sleep?

Making it away from the Tower, from Uriah, had been some big, stupid, out-of-reach fantasy. And in that fantasy, as soon as Lex was free, it was all better. Things were back to normal. The last two years were a bad dream. Easy to bottle away and forget about.

But in the real world, it wasn't so simple.

The contracts should've been easy. They were familiar, ironically safe, but sometimes he'd forget if he was taking down a mark for Chopper or for Uriah. Those moments made him stumble, force himself to press a hand to his throat, remind himself that the collar was gone, that the only one who controlled him anymore was him.

Not that he did a good job of it.

He'd all-but handed the steering wheel to Chopper, taking any job the older man so much as mentioned, if only for a way to distract himself, to try to find a rhythm, but the rhythm he found was nothing steady.

Track, kill, collect. Drink himself to sleep if he got sleep at all. Repeat in a day or two. Look over his shoulder every time he was out of the building, feel his heart start to race at every stranger who stared too long.

Once he'd sobered up enough to track his surroundings, he found he couldn't even attempt sleep unless the lights were on, or else he'd wake up back in the cell. The door couldn't be closed, because then he was trapped, but it couldn't be open either, or someone could sneak up on him. He couldn't be around people, because any of them could be a spy for Uriah, but he couldn't be alone or the damned silence would choke him.

And as it turned out, pretending he could be okay, pretending he'd never been taken in the first place, didn't help anything.

The other Neath freelancers knew it all. People he could've called friends once, who he should've been able to fall into step with, now looked the other way or fell silent when he passed by. They could see the Tower in his scars, in his flinches. They knew how Uriah had owned him.

He'd done the impossible and escaped both, but it still hadn't saved him.

He still wasn't safe, and he never would be.

Not until Uriah Fox was dead.

The thought gave him some solace as he sat awake that night, back flat against the wall, sipping on a bottle of something he hoped was strong enough to knock him out.

Fox had to die so he could sleep, so he could go outside without being seen and caught and trapped. It was the first long-term goal he'd had since being taken, the first goal that wasn't just avoid angering the guards, avoid pissing off Uriah, survive one more day.

Lex staggered to his feet. How late was it? Was Chopper still awake? He had to do this now, he had to get this done now, he didn't care if he was tired, he didn't care if it killed him. He stumbled down the hall, just sober enough to stay on his feet, and that was all he needed. The light was on in Chopper's office. Good.

The older man was leaning back in his chair, sifting through a handful of papers. His eyes darted up when Lex passed the doorway, expression turning from neutrality to mild concern.

“Cinder…”

“I need a contract,” Lex said.

“You just got back from a contract. Sleep.” Chopper laid the papers in front of him. “And take a shower, for fuck’s sake. I can smell the blood on you.”

“I can't sleep,” Lex muttered, rubbing at a splotch of dried blood on his arm until it began to flake away, tiny pieces floating to rest in the ground like a macabre snow. “Are there any hits out for… for higher ups in the city?”

Chopper frowned at the question. “Higher ups?”

“CEOs.” He'd play this as casual as he could, in spite of the tightness in his chest, in spite of how the knowledge that Uriah was still out there was locked around his throat.

Chopper sank back in his chair with a heavy sigh, pulling open a filing cabinet. “Slim pickings. Not many people have the guts or the funds to go after them.” He pulled out a folder. “Why the sudden taste for golden blood? You can't possibly be low on cash already, unless you…”

He trailed off, eyes landing on the bottle still clutched in Lex’s hand, and he knew what he wanted to say. Unless you already drank it all away.

“Does it matter?”

Chopper opened the folder. “I guess it doesn't.” He scanned the pages within in silence for a moment. “Looks like we've got some attorneys… project manager, company director… any of those shiny enough for you?”

Lex grit his teeth. “Are any of them Uriah Fox?”

The folder snapped shut. “Uriah Fox,” Chopper repeated. “You want to kill Uriah Fox?”

His fist tightened around the bottle. “What do you think?”

“I think you should know the code by now. We don't make it personal.”

“I can't fucking sleep, Chopper. I can't…” He let his head drop. “I can't keep doing this. I need… I need him to be gone, I can't—” He pressed a palm into his cheek, cold metal on hot skin. “I don't need a contract to do it. I'll do it on my own. With or without your help.”

Chopper let out a sigh, laying the folder on the desk. “I'm afraid I can't let you do that.”

Lex's stomach churned, uneasy at the way he said it. What did he mean? Weren't they allies? Hadn't it always been us against them?

“You understand.” Chopper spread his hands, something apologetic on his face. “Fox is one of my top investors. It's a conflict of interest.”

Investor. Lex took a stumbling step backwards. Investor, pester, sequester, how had he not seen it? How has he not realized he'd been hiding in the fucking lion's den this entire time? How could Chopper do this, side with Uriah, didn't he realize what he'd done to him? That he'd come for him, take him back, let him rot in the Tower, even further underground than a grave would put him?

Chopper pushed himself up. “I don't want you panicking over this. I'm perfectly capable of maintaining both relationships.”

“You… Y—” Lex hunched over, emptying his stomach on the linoleum tile.

“Fuck, Cinder,” Chopper muttered, moving around the desk. Lex staggered backwards, wiping acrid bile from his chin with the back of his hand, eyes wide and locked on the older man.

Maintaining both relationships. He knew what that meant, he knew Chopper would have no issue handing him over to Uriah if only he was asked to. How had he thought this was a safe haven? (raven) How could he have passed out drunk here, let his guard down so severely? (clearly) He'd been lucky. He'd been so damn lucky Chopper hadn't seen fit to give him up in the last few weeks, and fuck, it would've been easy. Lex had made it easy, by being stupid and trusting and complacent (adjacent).

“Sit down. We can talk about this.”

We can calm you down and keep you in place long enough for Uriah to come barging through the door.

“You're not thinking rationally. I know you haven't been yourself lately.”

You haven't been the same since your return from hell.

“It was a bad idea to set you back to work so soon.”

You came back ruined.

Lex's back hit the wall, and he flinched away from it as if it were another enemy. He couldn't stay here, it wasn't safe, nowhere was safe.

“Cinder…”

He whirled around, head spinning, heart pounding in his throat, not safe.

“Alexei.”

He barreled through the door, feet hardly moving fast enough to keep him upright as he made a mad dash through the front door and stumbled out into the cool night air.

Nowhere was safe (waif, chafe, strafe). Chopper had dozens of freelancers on his payroll, hundreds of allies (spies, cries), thousands of eyes that could watch for him, nowhere was safe, he couldn't sleep (cheap, creep).

He didn't stop running until he was several blocks away, practically collapsing against the wall of a locksmith shop. What now? He couldn't stay awake forever, couldn't stay vigilant, and it was only a matter of time before he passed out and someone took the opportunity to snatch him or report him and fuck, fuck, he hadn't escaped, he'd never really escape, nowhere was safe—

…was it?

He forced himself to inhale, shuddering breaths fighting against the way the world was spinning. There were like-minded people out there, people who hated Uriah as much as he did, people who wouldn't hand him over to Titanium, if only out of spite.

Enemy of my enemy.

He sucked in air, his heartbeat slowing down, if only a little.

"You don't have to go out and face the world alone.”

He still didn't believe that, didn't trust any of the rogues, but he could trust in their shared goal. He'd saved them once, weathered Uriah's anger to protect them from his own fire, and maybe they were still grateful enough that they'd be willing to watch his back and let him rest.

He pushed up from the wall, squinting into the darkness. The rogue's safehouse was miles away. He couldn't even be certain that they'd still be there, but it was the only plan that made sense.

Lex took a swig from the half-empty bottle, still clutched in his fist, hoping the liquor would beat back the fear that still clawed at his chest.

He had a long walk ahead of him.

•°•°•

#someone refrenced the title poem as i was editing this #spooky #anyway i feel like I've used the title before but i love it sooooo #wildefire #assassin whump #alcohol #alcohol whump #emeto #messy recovery #whump writing #bad coping mechanisms

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