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maraschinomerry · 1 year

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Hi! Could you please write a Lockwood x reader fic involving the prompt: You aren't well, but you don't want to skip training and make them worry, so you continue on as usual, thinking it's not that serious. But that's proven wrong when you faint right in front of them mid-fight. Mixed with the dialogue: "You hold it like this and- why are your hands trembling?" Thank you in advance! 💙

Pretty Boy

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x gn!reader

Content: mild swearing, whump (fainting as in the prompt), mentions of not eating or sleeping, cute flirty ending

A/N: thank you for such a great request!! I've actually also just got over being not well while I was writing this (I'm fine now and wasn't this bad!) so it was weirdly cathartic 😅

Word count: 2.3k

The blissful quiet of the kitchen at 35 Portland Row was shattered by an incredibly loud, almost violent sneeze. You threw your arm across your face just in time to catch it. That was weird. You never sneezed.

"Bless you," Lockwood frowned over the top of his magazine.

That was day 1.

On day 2, you were all out on a case, in a dilapidated Victorian house. In a divide-and-conquer strategy for such a big place, Lockwood and George had headed upstairs while you and Lucy stayed on the ground floor. Fumbling around in the dim light of the dining room, Lucy threw open the curtains to let in what was left of the evening sun, accidentally unleashing a cloud of dust which shimmered in the beam of your torch. You both coughed a little in surprise.

Your coughing didn't stop for the rest of the night.

Day 3 was spent relaxing, recovering from getting home in the early hours of the morning after a gruelling fight with a pair of Type Twos. Or rather, everyone else was relaxing. You were in your room, fluctuating between wrapping your shivering form in your duvet and throwing it off so you wouldn't melt into a puddle. The bowl of soup you'd made yourself for lunch grew cold where it sat untouched on your bedside table.

A sleepless night heralded the arrival of day 4. Your symptoms had mostly abated by the evening, and you desperately hoped to claw back a few hours of rest. By dinner time, bleary-eyed, you forced yourself downstairs to try and get at least one meal of the day. Fortunately, the kitchen was empty, so at least you didn't have to explain your recent lack of presence to anyone. Unfortunately, none of the contents of the fridge were even remotely appealing right now. You settled for a slice of toast which you took back upstairs. Two bites in, you felt your stomach flip. Great. The rest went straight in the bin.

A gentle knock sounded on your door the morning of day 5, after another night of tossing and turning without ever drifting off.

"Yeah?" you called wearily.

Lockwood poked his head in, dressed in a loose Henley T-shirt and sweatpants. "Morning. Just thought I'd check you were alright, you didn't come down for training." Oh shit. You and Lockwood had been doing weekly training together for months - it started not long after you joined the agency, when he'd come down to the basement for practice and found you already there, and you'd ended up sparring. It had happened a few more times, and eventually you fell into the habit of both going down on Friday mornings so much it became an unofficial appointment.

"Oh, sorry," you swallowed a yawn. "I lost track of what day it was. Give me five minutes."

"I sort of assumed you weren't coming down dressed Iike that." He nodded to your fuzzy pyjamas with a smirk, and you tugged shyly at the hem of the top. "Have you had breakfast?"

"Yeah." That was a lie. Lockwood studied you for a moment, and you wondered if he could see right through you, but then he nodded to himself.

"Alright, see you downstairs." He began to leave, but popped back at the last second. "I'm not saying the pyjamas are a bad look, by the way, they're cute, just maybe a bit warm for fighting in." He grinned again, and disappeared. What was that supposed to mean?

—

Five minutes later, as promised, you traipsed down the basement steps in runner shorts and a tank top. This was the last thing you wanted to be doing right now, but you loved getting one-on-one time with Lockwood and knew how much it would hurt him to break the tradition and how concerned he'd be about you if he found out you'd been ill.

Lockwood gave you another puzzled look. "Are you sure you're okay?" He'd seen you this low energy before, but normally only the day after a case.

You gave the most convincing smile you could muster. "Fine. What's the plan?"

He furrowed his brows once more, before apparently deciding against whatever he was thinking. "Okay, there was a new move I figured out on the last case. I thought I could teach you and see if you think it's any good?" That last part sounded so open and vulnerable. You could imagine what he was thinking - was it a fluke? Was it him overselling his talents? Did it look ridiculous? He got like that sometimes, needed snapping out of it. Reassuring. Your smile was more genuine this time.

"Sounds good, it certainly seemed effective."

You tried your best to concentrate while Lockwood demonstrated the move, really you did, but you were running on empty and the basement was so delightfully cool. Maybe if you just lay down on the floor for a bit, you'd sort yourself out.

"Did you get that?" Lockwood's voice cut through the fog of your thoughts, and you dragged your eyes up to meet his, which were nodding to your hands. You hadn't the slightest idea what it was he expected you to have got.

"Uhh…"

To your relief, he mistook your distraction for confusion and stepped closer to help, carefully off to one side to avoid the blade as his hands rested over yours.

"You hold it like this and- why are your hands trembling?"

You barely registered the alarm in his voice, or the uncontrollable tremor that was indeed present and spreading up your arms. Nothing in your body seemed to be responding properly any more. Did you still have hold of the rapier? Why was your chest so tight, not allowing any air in? An invisible wad had trapped in your throat, and you desperately sucked in a breath through your nose. Gosh, Lockwood smelled good. Lavender and bergamot. And he was pretty, too. So pretty. Those deep dark eyes, gazing at you with so much longing. No, not longing. He didn't do that, did he? Plus, he was frowning too much for longing. Concern? You didn't like it when he frowned. You tried to pout, but your lips didn't move. That was annoying. So were the lights. Had they always been this bright? It hurt. Everything hurt. You needed to leave. Now.

Panic took hold of the last working corner of your brain and sent a jolt of electricity down to your legs which finally reacted, carrying you shakily towards the stairs. You muttered something incoherent, mouth not quite as functional. The effort drained the last dregs of energy, and your legs stopped working again.

"Whoa, whoa-" a voice behind you gasped, hasty footsteps echoing. Who was that? There was someone else down here, wasn't there? You couldn't remember. Wait. There was a pretty boy, right? He seemed nice. You tried to tell him you were okay, you wanted to. As you pitched backwards, the silhouette of the pretty boy swam into view, blocking out the harsh lights above. That was better.

Everything went black.

—

You were laying somewhere warm and soft. That was odd. And it was less bright behind your eyelids. Where were you? Hadn't you been down in the basement? With the cold floor and the cold lights… and the pretty boy? Was he still here?

You tried to call out for him, succeeding only in a groan. The surface beneath you shifted by your feet in response, and your eyelids fluttered open a fraction. There he was. Framed by the golden rays filtering through the window behind him and dappling across his dark hair.

"Hey, pretty boy," you murmured. Proper words; that was more like it. Next step: opening your eyes fully.

Ah.

The pretty boy was Lockwood, brows knitted upwards as he shuffled further up what you gradually realised was your bed.

"Hey." His voice was thick, with the hint of a shake. "How are you feeling?"

You groaned again, moving to sit up. Lockwood instantly reached out, one hand on the small of your back and the other lifting the pillows to prop up behind you. "Been better."

Under any other circumstances, you think he'd probably have laughed. As it was, he huffed out a breath and you spotted a brief tic in his jaw. "That's a mild way of putting it. You collapsed in the middle of training. I had no idea what happened, I thought…" His gaze dropped to his lap as he trailed off. The silence clenched tightly around your heart. Eventually, he spoke again, still not looking at you, voice cracking and barely above a whisper. "I was so worried about you."

The tension in your chest pressed down further, and you thought you actually heard your heart shatter.

"Hey, Lockwood, look at me." You raised a hand, still trembling but for an entirely new reason, up to cup his cheek. At last, he looked. Those beautiful dark eyes were watery, and his nose ruffled as he tried to hold back the tears. "I'm okay, see? I'm here, I'm okay, and I'm so sorry for making you worry."

A warmth spread over the back of your hand as he brought his up to meet it. His fingers curled over yours, thumb rubbing calmingly across your knuckles. Whether the calming was for you or him, you couldn't say. "But are you sure you're okay? People don't just collapse like that, and you've been out all day." Your eyes widened a little as you glanced at your alarm clock. Almost 6. Wow.

"Honestly, it's nothing serious. Kind of stupid, actually; the irony is it all happened because I didn't want you to worry." That made him chuckle. That was promising. You continued. "I was ill - I don't know if it was a cold or flu or what - but that wasn't great to begin with, and then with it ruining my ability to eat and sleep I just… didn't have anything left to give."

You don't know what reaction you expected from Lockwood: frustration, confusion, disappointment perhaps. You certainly weren't expecting him to look quite so… guilty? "Why didn't you say something when I came to find you? We could have cancelled training." It came out sharper than you were expecting. Oh. There was where the guilt came in.

"I didn't want to break the tradition."

"To hell with the tradition if this is what it does to you!"

You faltered. Was it just your current condition, or had your mouth gone very dry? "Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" You took a steadying breath. "It's not just that. I don't mean it like it's some obligation. I love our sessions! Getting to have that time just for us, having it be our thing, it's the highlight of my week. And it's been a pretty shitty week so I wanted this one thing to be nice."

The fire in Lockwood's words died out, and he almost visibly deflated. His free hand reached up unexpectedly to brush a strand of hair from your face.

"Well, I'm glad it means that much to you, but next time will you please tell me when something's wrong? I can survive missing our date more than I can survive missing you."

Hold on.

You were definitely still ill. Your cheeks felt warm and your heart was pounding against your ribcage. That was the only possible explanation. Definitely nothing to do with the fact that the boy you'd been in love with for months had just called your training sessions a date. Oh god, you'd infected him too, his face was flushed. "Date?" you breathed.

"Only if you want it to be, of course, I don't want to jump to conclusions. Although you did call me 'pretty boy' barely five minutes ago, so I'm sure even George would agree with the legitimacy of my hypothesis." Oh, how you'd missed seeing that smirk he'd grown all of a sudden.

"I'm not entirely sure you can take the high ground on this one, love, when you said even more recently how you couldn't survive without me."

"I think so long as I'm right I can. Especially since, if we're going off who said something last, you couldn't even argue without calling me love."

"I wish we were still holding rapiers, I've got a chance of beating you at that."

Lockwood laughed, all earlier emotions replaced with nothing but tender affection. "Get some sleep, and then we can test that theory." He made to leave, but where your hands were still entwined you tightened your grip a little.

"Will you stay? Please? In case I didn't make it clear enough with fainting, I haven't been doing so great at the whole sleep thing."

When he nodded, you wriggled over to one side of the bed, allowing him to slip under the covers behind you. Everything about him felt cosy, and you snuggled towards that feeling. It took him aback for a moment until he draped an arm over your stomach, gently tugging you closer so the two of you slotted together like you'd been designed to fit one another from the start. His breath tickled your ear, but its constant rhythm slowed yours in turn. Your eyelids grew heavy.

"You know," you mumbled sleepily, "you could take me on a proper date. Only if you want to, of course, wouldn't want to jump to conclusions."

He squeezed you playfully. "I think I've got enough evidence to consider it. Lunch tomorrow if you feel up to it?" You hummed a contented agreement. As your eyes drifted shut, a feather-light kiss pressed against your temple. "Good night, love."

"Good night, pretty boy."

#lockwood & co fanfic #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #gn!reader #lockwood & co

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angst-is-love-angst-is-life · 12 days

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Can you recommend me some good fics where Barry Allen gets kidnapped :) since in one of your tags you said you read a lot of them lol

I read them, I write them, I live and breathe them. Absolutely anon, allow me to dive into my bookmarks.

Just a reminder, always be sure to check the tags and warnings to know what you're getting into. Stay safe out there folks!

Juncture by @pennflinn may be my favorite fic of all time. Technically he gets kidnapped before the story's events but that's because it's an alternate ending to Escape from Earth-2 (and he is held captive for pretty much the entire fic so). The whump is SUPREME and the overall story is so well written. I will always recommend this fic.

One Second by pennflinn. Another one by penn because she is an incredible writer and HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS FIC!! It takes my favorite premise for a fic "What if Barry was kidnapped in this scene/episode when he wasn't in canon!" and brings it to a WHOLE nother level. This one is diverges from 1x14 "Fallout" where, instead of everyone getting away semi-safely, Eiling kidnaps Barry and whump ensures. BUT there's another twist to this fic that (in my opinion) makes it stand out from many others-- every once in a while, there's a glimpse of a parallel universe where the events were different and let's just say some of those universes h u r t. Also, I wanted to kill Eiling so bad after reading this that I wrote a ficlet with the sole purpose of murdering him :) Anyways, go read; it's amazing.

Miles Through The Night by @hedgiwithapen. First off, this is an everyone whump fic, Barry is not the only one who is kidnapped but 1. IT HURTS GODS IT HURTS SO BAD I'M DYING. 2. The writing is spectacular, all the characters are super well done, and the story is INTENSE I'M STILL DYING SORRY I'LL STOP NOW. In this one-- actually nvm, the actual summary will do it justice. "With Eobard Thawne dead, life in Central City can go back to normalish. But Barry’s greatest enemy is not a speedster from the future fixated on him, and Eobard’s threat may have been the only thing keeping Team Flash safe from someone who doesn’t consider any meta to be human." THAT'S RIGHT-- AN EILING FIC! Just. Go read it, it's so good and I'm dying.

Lightning Bug by Hedgi. The writing in this was SUPERB and Eiling is a fucking bastard as always (count your days general.). And this time we have another speedster in the mix-- a toddler Wally! Ngl, I just reread this while getting the link and it was SO GOOD-- and once again my words can't seem to do it justice so I'll leave you with the summary "Months after the defeat of Zoom, Barry's main concern (aside from the odd metahuman attack) is helping Joe and Iris raise the four and a half year old Speedster Wally West, Cisco-named "Lightning Bug." And while that's hard, it's nice to have this speedster as family, not an enemy. Things are pretty easy.

Unfortunately, that doesn't last. After all, General Eiling's deal was only good for as long as their mutual enemies were still a threat." Eiling needs to die in a ditch as you can see, but there's some really sweet whump in this and it's because of him soooooo-- anyways, go read; it was fantastic.

Can’t Take That Away From Me by SophiaCatherine (or @sophiainspace on here). DUDE. DUDE DUDE DUDE-- I LOVE THIS FIC. I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC. EVen once the whump passes, the A N G S T is so delicious! From the beginning of the first chapter alone; you'll see the sweet whump AND angst this fic has in store. Oh, and it's Coldflash which I somehow forgot to mention even though that's a foundation of the entire fic lmao. I love it, go read. Also, there is a sequel but it's not Barry being whumped this time... double also; there's a prequel and it's really sweet (no whump in that one fyi)

I Never Told Him by messedupstargazer. I am SCREAMING. THIS. FIC. Fyi, it's Coldflash. SO MUCH ANGST THE WHUMP-- IT'S SO GOOD I HAVE NO WORDS. DYING DYING DYING I AM DEAD I HAVE PERISHED.

Looking through all of these at once has filled me with many emotions and I apologize if some parts were incoherent. I'm probably missing a few and may add more as I find them but for now I'll finish with these two I wrote.

12 hours Barry's kidnapped before the events of the story but I think it still counts. He's trapped in Zoom's lair and forced to run for twelve hours every day :)

Trophy this is my beloved and the entire fic is a Barry whump fest (and angst. a lot of angst.). (or will be, There's one chapter posted atm) Technically we haven't seen the kidnapping yet but in the first scene he is in a cell so. Premise is that Zoom wins in the season 2 finale and everything goes to hell from there. I do feel obligated to warn though that there's not a happy ending for this one.

Thanks for asking! I'm always eager to share Barry whump! :D

#also if anyone wants their tag/@ removed lmk #asks #anon asks #barry allen #barry whump #fic recs #the flash #the flash fanfiction

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whumps-and-bumps · 3 months

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Introduction

Heya! My name's Harley, and my pronouns are they/them :)

I've been reading and writing whump for a long time now, but have lingered in the shadows for too long! I've finally had some inspiration and motivation to try posting some of my stuff, and fingers crossed I can keep up the momentum and update regularly if people like it <3

Before I even knew it was a thing, I've been working on a BBU-adjecent universe with dozens of characters. It's set in a modern fantasy world, where there are multiple races such as demonborn, werewolfs, dragonfolk, and so on living alongside humans in present day. Unfortunately in one country in particular, humans are seen as no more than slaves and cattle, and they have no legal rights or protection from the very hungry world around them >:)

I will do my best to tag all of my work accurately and reliably, but if I ever miss anything please just let me know and I'll fix it asap! As a general coverall warning, though, there will be a significant amount of violence, non/dubcon, and other 18+ nsfw content. I'll put a full list of things you can expect below the cut! I'd love to take prompts and requests, of any kind!

This has rambled on for long enough now, so I'd just like to say a special thanks to @hold-him-down for giving me that last push to put myself out there, and @ashintheairlikesnow, @pigeonwhumps, @peachy-panic, @nicolepascaline and so many more blogs for being such wonderful inspirations!

Whumpy Likes/Interests/Content:

BBU and BBU-adjecent

Dehumanisation/pet whump

Slavery and captivity

Noncon/NSFW

Kidnapping and hostages

Parental/familial neglect and abuse (non sexual)

Scarring/branding/body mods

Amputation (necessary for health of whumpee)

Whipping, caning, spanking (impact play)

Collars, muzzles, blindfolds, plus general bondage and restraints

Extreme humiliation and abuse

Heavy emotional and mental trauma, manipulation, etc

Minor character death

Self-harm and/or suicide (attempted only)

Guilt-ridden whumpers

Hugs, snuggles, aftercare

Recovery, redemption, revolution!!

Squicks & Things You Won't Find:

Animal abuse of any kind. Assume if there's a pet mentioned, it's functionally immortal <3

Major character death - no matter how rough things get, the main guys will pull through... Somehow! Everybody deserves an eventual happy ending :)

General homophobia/transphobia etc - there are moments sprinkled throughout some scenes, such as an abusive parent deliberately misgendering their kid, but it's never the main focus.

If there's anything you're interested in that I haven't listed, you can usually assume that I'm probably down for it and just haven't gotten around to it yet ;)

#whump #whump intro #whumpblr #whump community #fantasy whump #i'm very nervous but also excited about sharing my stuff with you guys!!

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jedi-lothwolf · 2 months

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Whump: The Musical Day 6: Newsies (Chronic Pain)

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Summary: Crosshair finally does something about his hand.

Crosshair hated Hemlock. Never before had he hated someone so much. As he watched his hand shake, he knew that if he ever saw the scientist again, he would shoot his in the stomach and drive his rifle into the wound. He would make him feel as helpless and as awful as he felt.

It wasn't just the shaking. His arm had been in pain for months. There was nothing he could do. Pain medicine made it bearable, sometimes it even kept it from hurting, but like a river, the dam could only stop it for so long.

So, Crosshair started to think there was nothing he could do. It had been months.

Tech would have known. But, Tech was dead. Az should know but he didn't have the technology he needed. Crosshair was too nervous to go to the hospital on Pabu. He knew he shouldn't wait, but he wanted someone to go with him and he wasn't going to take the kid. Hunter would be his best opinion but he couldn't face him yet.

This morning, Crosshair grabbed the last of his stolen pain meds and put them in his mouth. The bitter taste lingered on his tongue as he swallowed the pills. But the pain wouldn't leave him alone.

As the day went on, Crosshair seemed detached. It appeared that he was always thinking about something. The batch didn't know rather to give him space or if they should talk to him.

"I'm going to talk to him" Hunter finally said.

"Normally Cross doesn't like to talk to us about these kinds of things unless he comes to us." It wasn't that Wrecker didn't want to talk to his brother, he just didn't want to make anything worse.

"He's in pain, I can tell. I don't want him to hide that from us."

"Okay."

So Hunter went to find his brother. Crosshair was in tears when he found him. Holding his wrist, the sniper tried not to look at him.

"What's wrong?" Hunter came to sit beside Crosshair.

"I'm fine" he scowled.

"You're crying."

"I said I'm fine."

"What's going on?" Hunter sounded so calm. He talked to him with all the patients he had, maybe more.

"My hand" Crosshair sighed, "my hand was messed up at Tantiss . It hurts Hunter." The man looked over at his brother, tired. "It hurts all the time and I'm out of pain meds."

It took a moment before Hunter said anything. "okay. Let's take you to the hospital. They might be able to do something for you." Seeing Hunter reach out to him, helped. It almost felt like nothing happened.

The two walked to the hospital together. Hunter went in first and whispered something to the nurse at the front desk that Crosshair couldn't hear. The sniper followed his brother inside. After a while, the two were called back.

"So the nurse tells me that your wrist has been bothering you."

"Yes."

"Alright, lets take a look." The doctor took Crosshair's hand into her own. After talking for a while, the doctor ordered a few tests. She was determined to get to the source of Crosshair's pain.

A NCV showed that the man had nerve damage.

"Unfortunately, we would have to operate. Even then the pain and the damage will never completely heal. I'm sorry but you'll need a brace to help steady your hand and we'll put you on pain medicine for the chronic pain."

"That's it?" Crosshair sighed. "How soon can you do the surgery and how soon can I have those meds?"

"Soon and soon. I'll get everything scheduled. About once a month you'll come here to pick up your medication. After your surgery we'll put you in physical therapy to help with the recovery."

"Okay."

"Thank you doc." Hunter stood.

The brothers walked outside. "It's a start" the older of the two said.

Crosshair looked at his hand. He took two of the Gabapentin pills. Then he put his dark gray brace on. "Okay."

#whump: the musical #chronic pain #star wars #star wars whump #whump #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #tbb crosshair #crosshair bad batch #crosshair #tbb hunter #hunter the bad batch #hunter bad batch #pabu

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whump-on-a-string · 3 months

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△ Elliott, how did you get turned?

3/10 - It's not a fond memory and still quite fresh but, it is what it is I suppose.

"My original plan that evening was to attend a dinner party at my friend Frederick's home. He'd invited me to his last two get togethers, and my invitation was likely...misplaced.

When I arrived no one answered the door. Likely too occupied by the festivities of the evening which is understandable.

I waited a bit at the door, and even saw Frederick through the window in the middle of what was likely a highly interesting conversation, but it was getting late so I left to have a drink elsewhere and not be tempted by the wine I had brought for the party.

I had a few drinks and left for home, though it was a bit later in the evening than I had realized and the call of that particular wine bottle was too strong for me not to have a little bit on my way home."

TW: Whump, Alcohol, Blood, Death, Vampire Bite wounds.

Please be safe about your Tumblr and online experience! :D

"I never did get another invitation for any social gatherings from Frederick again, unfortunately. It's been tough trying to find a new crowd when you can't go out in broad daylight."

It was entirely an accident, that hungry vampire thought he'd drained them dead and left a corpse behind. Elliot does not know this. I only added that last comment in the 3rd page to help the reader.

Does Elliot know they were accidentally turned into a vampire? - NOPE. As far as they're aware: "I got bit by a vampire and that's why I am one now." But that is not the case.

Their corpse just laid there undisturbed with enough of a trickle of vampire blood in their body to keep it up long enough to regenerate a bunch of new vampire blood. So they woke up a few hours later as a brand new very confused vampire with no mentor to tell them how ANY of this works so they have NO idea how this shit happened. Just that it did. :) Also what little tiny bits of their original blood left on their shirt collar from that vampire drinking it smelled AWFUL tasty when they woke up.

Did I bullshit vampire lore into existence just for this ask? Hell yes.

Did I intend to draw a 3 page comic? No.

Have I been working on it since the day I got this ask about Elliot? Absolutely.

Being bitten by a vampire and surviving is not enough to be turned.

Generally one of the most common/main methods is to transfuse or ingest the blood of a vampire and hope it takes (extremely rare) it has like a 1% success rate to be turned JUST by ingesting the blood of a vampire.

For a much more successful turning, do the above process but ALSO be bitten by the vampire that was the source of the blood, and that is the most common and effective way to turn someone. This knowledge is kept quite secret even among vampires. A majority of those turned may not even know how it worked or were made to forget it.

The blood reproduces quickly to replace the victims original blood type. It's extremely rare to survive a vampire attack like Elliot did. They're very lucky. It also contributes to how vampires can heal and regenerate much faster than a human.

~ Being bitten by a vampire and surviving would make a LOT of vampires and what if the vampire is nice and doesn't want to kill a human or end up with a competitor for food? Bam. funky vampire lore to solve the problem. Don't ask me the science behind it. I don't know. Maybe you know more than I do frankly. (Although Remus would LOVE to.)

#Whump Art #Ask #Vampire #whump #My Art #Elliot #OC #Original Character #Original #Lore

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chopper-base · 8 months

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Plan 99

Day 5 of @tbb-appreciation-week (which yes, I know im very late to)

Summary: Tech finds himself alive but in the empires hands. Extremely injured and alone, he can only hope his brothers managed to escape as he fights to escape with the help of a brother long lost.

Warnings: mentions of torture and death, hurt/comfort, Crosshair needs a kriffin vacation.

Prompts: Crosshair, Whump, Hiding face in neck, "I'll keep you safe"

Chpt1 | Chpt2

Chapter 2

Crosshair awoke to a sharp ache, a pained groan slipping past his lips. He took a shaky breath, a migraine quickly forming. It was no surprise when he realized he couldn’t move, restraints tightly bound over his wrists and ankles. He knew it was only a matter of time before Hemlock or one of his assistants noticed he had regained consciousness. It was a hellish routine. Every second the sniper was awake, he was being probed and prodded, a rat for them to use however they pleased.

“Crosshair?” A small voice whispered his name and Crosshair hoped to the Maker he was hallucinating. “Crosshair, it’s Omega. Can you hear me?”

Maker, kriff it all…

He forced his eyes open a crack, looking out of the corners of his eyes to see two very young and tear filled eyes staring back at him. The young girl's hair was longer than he had last seen it, hanging down just above her shoulders. Small bruises littered her face and neck, a hint of blood staining the collar of her shirt. Crosshair couldn't stop the seething anger that came over him as his eyes scanned over every scrape and bruise on her skin.

He opened his mouth to speak, wincing at the pain it caused but he forced himself to look his little sister in the eye, "...Who did this to you?"

She forced a small smile onto her face, reaching up and setting her hand gently on his bicep. "I'm okay, Crosshair."

If he wasn't strapped to this damn table, Crosshair he was sure he was gonna murder whoever the unfortunate soul was that stepped into this room next. The sniper was never one for physical contact but he wanted nothing more than to hold the terrified child next to him. He looked around, surveying the room, noticing the two were strangely alone. "Where's the rest of the batch?" He asked, hating how his own voice scratched out of his throat.

Omega's face fell, tears beginning to collect in the corners of her eyes. "Hunter and Wrecker escaped but…" Her voice broke, the tears rolling down her bruised cheeks. "Tech… he…" the choked sob that escaped her lips was enough for the sniper to realize what she meant.

He desperately searched her face for some sort of lie. Tech couldn't be dead. They had survived so much. He couldn't…

"Omega." He said as calmly as he could muster. "What happened to Tech?"

She couldn't look him in the eye, holding his arm like a lifeline. "We got- we got your message. Tech convinced Hunter to… to look for you. He- we were stuck on a rail car and was just hanging. We tried to pull him up! But he- he shot the connector and- I'm sorry!" She sobbed, her grip on his arm tightening.

Plan 99… Tech had sacrificed himself to save his brothers. Crosshair squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay. He looked back at Omega, choked sobs racking her small frame.

"Omega." He said softly. "Do you know if anyone is outside this room?"

Omega finally met his gaze, shaking her head. "I don't think so. They locked the door and left me in here. Nala Se convinced them to let me see you."

Crosshair glanced down at his restrained body before looking back up at the girl. "You think you could get these restraints off?"

Omega scanned over his body before nodding, freeing his head first before moving down. Her face scrunched in concentration as she fiddled with the controls for the metal cuffs restraining his arms and legs. A small smile worked its way onto her face as the cuffs snapped open, freeing the sniper completely.

He lifted his arms slowly, rubbing his sore wrists before slowly sitting up. Omega put a supporting hand on his back as he swung his legs over the side of the table. He knew they didn't have much time but he took a precious second to pull the child into an embrace which she gladly accepted. He pulled away, lowering himself to the floor, grabbing the table to keep himself from falling as his legs shook under his weight. Omega held onto his hip, helping steady him, her eyes locked on his. He looked around the room again, looking for anything he could use as a makeshift weapon, his eyes landing on a shelf stocked with different tools. He recognized every one as Hemlock had used everyone on him at some point during his unfortunate stay in this hell hole. He slowly made his way over the shelf, grabbing the electrocution rod, flipping it on and watched the electricity dance along the end before switching it back off. He turned to Omega who was watching him intently. "The next person to walk through that door is going to have a very bad day." That got the small smile to return to her face.

The sound of the lock disengaging had the sniper quickly crossing the room, standing against the wall next to the door. The door hissed opened, and two TK troopers stepped in, their gaze fixed on Omega. The first one dropped with a grunt, the other barely able to turn to see the sniper before he too lay in a heap on the floor. Crosshair quickly picked up one of their blasters, turning the stun off before handing it to Omega and grabbing the other, doing the same. "Stay behind me and shoot when I tell you too." He instructed, peeking out of the room to see an empty hallway. Omega remained glued to him, peeking out from beside him with a death grip on the blaster in her hands. It was almost cute to see such a small child holding a blaster but he was reminded of that dreadful day when the batch first fled Kamino. When that same child expertly shot his firepuncher out of his hands. He knew she had no blaster training and yet she made that perfect shot. He knew there was something special about this kid, he just didn't quite know what it was yet.

He made his way down the hall, making sure Omega never left his side, listening closely for any footsteps or alarms but the hall remained silent. Too silent for the snipers taste.

Finally, those dreadful footsteps began to echo down that damned hallway, forcing Crosshair to pull Omega into the closest door. He had snaked his arm behind her back, lifting her up enough to press the child against his chest as he slammed the door controls. The door hissed shut, both clones holding their breath as they heard thundering footsteps echoing down the hall. They were alone in the room, the lights dimmed as far as they could go leaving the two in near darkness. The blaster was still gripped tightly in Omega's small hand, her other hand made its way around his neck. She made no move to get Crosshair to put her down, holding tightly to the sniper. The footsteps faded letting them both finally breathe. Omega turned slightly, her face burying into the side of his neck.

He could feel her begin to shake, her other arm wrapping around the other side of his neck. He lowered them both down, his knees landing on the cool metal floor. Her feet were still barely touching the ground as he held her tightly, unable to bring himself to let her go. "It's ok, ad'ika." He whispered into her ear. "I'll keep you safe. I promise."

She pulled back, her feet finally flat on the floor. Her gaze met his, tears brimming her brown eyes. A small smile decorated her face as she looked at her brother.

Crosshair forced himself to return the small gesture, trying to keep the child as calm as he could. He finally broke his gaze away, looking closer at the room they had taken refuge in. The room was basically empty. All that stood in there was a small control station and what looked to be three bacta tanks. Crosshair's breath caught in his throat as his gaze met the face of the man suspended in the first tank. Omega turned, searching for what the sniper had noticed and it was clear the moment she did.

"...Tech?"

Tag list!! (Let me know if you'd like to be added!!)

@rain-on-kamino @idoubleswearimawriter @staycalmandhugaclone @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kalykat

#tbbaw2023 #crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair tbb #day 5 #fan fic #tbb fanfic #mentions of death #mentions of torture #past trauma #whump #hiding face in neck #i'll keep you safe #omega tbb #tech tbb #tbb tech #tbb omega #hemlock mentioned

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astrowhump · 10 months

Text

Hide and seek

TW: captivity, angst (nothing too extreme tbh)

“where you hiding, kitten?” a playful voice calls out in the painfully unlit living room.

Isak holds his breath, still as a statue behind a thin and tall cabinet of antiques. His heart beats miles per hour, his face drenched in cold sweat. Something brushes against his bare feet in the dark and he almost jumps, barely able to suppress a scream with a sharp gasp; but even that sound is loud enough to alarm the predator. A complacent grin creeps its way to Tal’s face, though he keeps his footsteps slow and steady, moving in a different direction than where he now knows his kitten’s holed up.

“come on out, kitty kitty…I don’t bite, I promise,” he churrs in a mockingly childish tone. Isak’s knuckles go white with his tight grip around the back edge of the cabinet as the footsteps quiet down. He sharpens his ears and tries his best to detect Tal’s movements over the erratic sound of his own heart beating against his ribcage. He can’t. The bastard moves like a snake on sand.

Isak presses himself further back into the wall, hoping that would somehow make him harder to detect. Despite never being that religious, he prays –with the last strands of faith left in him, to whoever might or might not be listening- that his hiding spot wasn’t outted.

Tal’s long fingernails scratch along multiple cabinet doors leading to the one giving Isak cover. The annoying sound of scraping wood follows him as he takes one painstakingly slow step after the other. Even if he didn’t already know, Tal could find his prey with his eyes closed now, as the sound of Isak’s adernalin-driven heart fills the room with an unmistakeable thud-thud-thud. He almost feels bad about how awfully easy it is to descry Isak.

Isak presses his eyes shut, forgetting to breathe through the sheer stress. A wet drop falls from his face onto the polished parquet; a drop of sweat, or tear, probably both. The cold wall to his back keeps him in place, no matter how hard he tries to melt into it. The anticipation doesn’t last long as skinny fingers snake around his neck, squeezing the air out of his throat as that familiar voice cooes again.

“you’re so bad at this game, kitten,” Tal teases. Isak’s eyes snap open. He looks at his captorr through eyes blurry with tears and horror.

“p-please…no more…please…” Isak forces the words out of a crashing windpipe.

“but what would be the point of playing if the winner doesn’t get his chicken dinner?” Tal pouts. Isak’s brain isn’t receiving enough oxygen to react to the disgustingly child-like expression on his captor’s face.

For a second, the edges of Isak’s vision gray out, giving him a glimpse of sweet painless uncosciousness. Unfortunately for him, Tal knows exactly when to let air flow into his lungs again. His hands let go of his victim’s throat with a disappointed tsk-tsk, right when he starts going limp in his grip.

Isak’s body swallows the granted air involuntarily, despite his undying desire to be pushed over the edge. Maybe someday, Tal would go over board with him; hold a tight grip on his throat for too long, slash a cut too deep; the possibilities are infinite. It doesn’t matter how, as long as it all stops.

“time for my prize now!” Tal says gleefully as he throws his arm around Isak’s neck and pulls him along like they’re football buddies. Isak doesn’t resist; resisting is never the answer, as he has so thoroughly learnt over time.

there'll probably be a part 2 to this. I'm not used to writing short stuff. also, more whump for everyone.

#whump #whump writing #creepy whumper #whump community #defiant whumpee #whump drabble #whump prompt #intimate whumper #whumper #whumpee #caretaker #whump tropes #conditioning #conditioned whumpee #sadistic whumper #angst #captivity #captivity whump

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starqueensthings · 2 months

Text

WARNINGS: elusions to a traumatic past and an accompanying verbalized dislike for the opposite sex (June). Medical anxiety (Howzer). Moderately graphic descriptions of medical injuries, corrective procedures (incl what a cauterization might look/smell like), needles, the beginnings of an anxiety attack (June). RATING: 16+ for mature themes, mild to moderate whump, mild angst (and a heavy dash of fluff because why the heck not lol). WC: 3500ish. (This chapter and the previous were never intended to be separated but they accumulated to nearly 8k words, and snipping certain aspects of this encounter in the name of brevity would only do a disservice to the story, so I apologize for how abruptly this chapter transitions from the last). PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD BEFORE PROCEEDING FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY.

Foreword | Prev | Next

Howzer’s eyes had thankfully done away with that ablaze and piercing stare in her temporary absence, though for how much of the intensity they’d lost, that twinkling set of amber had retained all of the warmth they seemed unable to entirely shed.

“Don’t know if I like the look of those,” he jested, though the way his eyes darted between her purple hands grossly betrayed the relentless facade of that feigned poise.

“Doesn’t warm them up, unfortunately, but at least you won’t catch my cooties,” June chuckled, hoping a dash of humour and a quirky wiggle of the fingers might soften the emotional toll she knew would accompany her next assertion. “Captain… I need to give you a pain injection.”

The sfotness of his expression hardened near-instantly, jaw tensing and forcing his lips into a frown that nowhere near-suited him as well as its round cheeked counterpart, and June could only grimace apologetically as he cocked an embittered eyebrow at her.

“We can’t use topical numbant on broken skin,” she beseeched in response to his silent disapproval. “The risk of trapping bacteria in the bloodstream is too high when the wound is as… open… as yours is. We can rawdog this if that’s really what you want, but you’ll have to try and sit still while I'm working. Or you can let me give you an in—”

“I can sit still,” he argued instantly, offering a shrug of the shoulders that was simply too passive for him to have understood the severity of the imminent procedure. “I’m great at sitting still.”

“While someone burns your skin back together with a kriffing hot needle?!”

Watching her words disintegrate that iron-clad intransigence would have been near-comical had his eyes not widened to something that too-closely resembled a trauma response, and despite knowing her brutal honesty was likely the quickest method to ensuring the full comprehension she needed from him before proceeding, her heart sank to lay with her stomach as she watched her words initiate an arrant downturn in his demeanour.

“Well geez, doc,” he grumbled, shirking from her pleading gaze by hanging his chin to his chest. “Why don’t you just give it to me straight…”

“I’m sorry,” she spoke quietly after swallowing the snort that near-followed his unexpected sardonicism. “Would it maybe help if I showed you the injector? You can see how it works and how tiny it actually is?”

“Maybe.” His response was near-silent, eyes flickering upward to hers only long enough to betray the decorum to which he still ardently clung.

Finally acceding to that inexplicable need to comfort him, and forsaking her better professional judgment, June clambered backward onto the bed beside him, that hovering cot momentarily swaying under the addition of her weight as she shimmied backward until they sat shoulder to shoulder.

“This is the actual USI tool,” she advised him, pulling the Universal Serum Injector from the previously collected pile of tools behind her and a small, orange-capped, crystal vial from her breast pocket. “And this lil guy is the Nociceptor Blocking Agent, or NBA serum. The vial clicks into the injector like this—” she snapped that tiny clear tube into place and pulled a small trigger to eject the cap, “—and the little orange top protecting the needle just kinda pops off. After that, it's as simple as poking it gently into the supraclavicular space right here at the base of your neck and waiting a moment for it to work.”

“And that’s it?” he asked, jaw shifting under the duress of how aggressively he continued to grind those teeth while his eyes remained affixed on the dinky little pin that would allegedly bring forth an excruciating death. “That’s all?”

“I promise.”

“Alright,” he finally conceded, shifting his attention upward to her eyes. “I trust you.”

Her stomach lurched at the way his gaze bore into hers, softly… acceptingly… unassertively… granting her the gifts of both his agency in that moment, and the degree of trust to which these always-suspecting soldiers notoriously only offered each other. Bottom lip nestling itself between her teeth to bridle the atypically bashful smile threatening to emerge, she simply nodded her gratitude and turned away from him.

“I’ll count down from three,” she cautioned, sneakers slapping atop the steel floor as she leaped somewhat ungracefully from the bed and oriented herself in front of him. “Three—” she kept the injector hidden at her side. “Two—” a gentle hand placed on his shoulder to brace his skin for impact. “One.”

The span of a tense blink over those amber eyes saw her expertly plunge the tiny needle home and release the entire vial of that magical serum. By the time his gaze returned to hers, one eye at a time, she’d deftly retracted the empty container and chucked it into the “sharps” bin beside the bed.

“Are you kidding me?” he demanded, the grin peeling across his lips surprising her enough to still her hands as they reached for the bottle of disinfectant. “That’s all?!”

“That’s all,” she answered with a small shrug.

“Maker, I am going to murder Gauge when I see him.”

“Who?” June asked, as she unscrewed the lid and peeled back the sanitary foil sticker put in place over the mouth of the bottle to prevent any unwanted microbes from contaminating its contents.

“Gauge. He’s my medic,” Howzer explained with eyes crinkled to near-closed, shoulders shaking beneath each huff of his amusement. “He’s in for it, now. Kriffing sadist jabs that thing into us like it's a spoon.”

“A sadist combat medic?” June snorted, screwing the cap back into place. “That’s a very worrying combination. You better try and stay on his good side.”

“He better stay on mine,” Howzer asserted, shaking his head.

The all-consuming (and mouth watering) recognition of his partial nudity did not make an appearance in her awareness until she sat back on her heels, eyes quickly scanning the position she’d meticulously positioned him in after climbing onto the cot beside him. By leaning him on an incline away from her and resting his arm innocuously atop his head, she’d unknowingly provided herself with both optimal wound access, and an unobstructed view of his remarkable physique. The only thing darker than the smattering of hair south of his navel was the brown of nipples near-perfectly perched on either side of the most divinely-crafted chest she’d ever seen. And rivaling every ridge, every contour of that muscular torso, were arms so immaculately sculpted that the only fight she could wage against the heat boiling below her skin was to strip off her now smothering labcoat and toss it onto the chair next to his armour.

And though she continued to cling to that necessary professionalism as fervently as he’d initially clung to his own stubborn refusal for pain control, there was absolutely no preventing her eyes from hungrily roaming atop the ripples of his ribcage as she scooched into position behind him, and attempting to stay focused as she squeezed that plastic bottle of saline overtop his wound was near impossible as those defined ridges of muscles continued to revolt against every drop of cold liquid trickling down his abdomen.

Something near relief pulled a sigh from her lips when that bottle finally emptied. Patting the wound dry with clean gauze in her right hand, she deftly pulled the medscanner from her pocket with her left and spun the dial on the front to reach the Hematology menu. Once that tiny infrared beam had confirmed there were no lingering signs of any foreign cells or bacteria, she stowed that invaluable tool on the bed beside her and reached, instead, for the cauterizing pen now emitting tiny puffs of white smoke.

“So what happened to you?” she probed moments later, ensuring Howzer’s eyes had deviated from that smoking needle before carefully touching it to his skin. “Get in a fight with a vibroblade wielding droid?”

“I wish,” he snorted. “It was… well, pretty stupid. The guys and I were transferring possession of our base to the relieving battalion. I gave the okay for the gunships to take off and then got distracted catching up with a buddy I haven’t seen since graduating. One of my men saw me getting left behind and decided shooting a grappling hook at me would be the best way to get me on board.”

“Maker have mercy,” she scoffed, brows furrowing in concentration as methodically guided the white hot tool atop that separated skin. “That’s idiotic.”

“Might have been cool if it worked,” Howzer answered. “Geo’s a smart guy, but doesn’t always think things through before he acts. He’s on my list after Gauge for the next time I feel— what's that smell?!”

She barely had time to disengage that red hot pin before every muscle in his abdomen contracted under the urgent and desperate effort of sitting up.

“Don’t look!” she snapped at him as he hastened to peer under his arm in her direction. Clamping one gloved hand atop that crisp and darkened line of fused skin she knew would likely make his stomach turn, she attempted to block his view with the palm of the other. “Trust me, it’s a sore sight right now, especially if you’re squeamish.”

She peeked around her palm, lips pursing to keep from smiling at the sight of him perched up on his free elbow, nose scrunched in utter repugnance as the putrid smell of burnt flesh continued to waft upward into his nose.

“Is… is that the smell of—?”

“Sure is,” she answered curtly. “And it smells as crispy as it looks so while you’re working on not looking, maybe try not breathing too.”

“‘Try not breathing…’” he repeated in little more than a whisper, dropping carefully back onto his side, and June was relieved to hear a chuckle supporting his words. “I know you’re the doctor, but I feel like breathing might be helpful here…”

“My boss would absolutely lay an egg if he heard me offer such heinous medical advice.” Her eyes narrowed under the embrace of genuine amusement as laughter poured from her lips, the image of Challa’s newly introduced perma-scowl forming as clearly in her mind's eye as if he’d been standing at her elbow. “That and the daily reminder of all the cold-hand complaints he has to field from my patients…”

Flooded with a wave of foreboding, June remembered the meeting Challa had requested in his office upon completion of this procedure, and the implications of what his request undoubtedly meant had her eyes near-rolling and the smile yanked from her lips. Challa didn’t often demand a private audience… at least, not with her. The last adventure into the intimidating confines of his windowless space had included a harsh castigation for the excessive overtime she’d shouldered over the last few weeks, and to request that she start walking around between surgeries with her hands nestled into her armpits so he could get through a day without having to apologize on behalf of her poor circulation.

After permitting a sigh laden with repressed dread to pass through now frowning lips, she sat back and peered down at the result of her handiwork. Despite having to battle the distraction of the dimples teasing her from the base of his back, she’d managed to complete a remarkably clean repair job; the cauterized edges of what used to be that oozing laceration were both crisp and dark, indicating the ideal clinical end point for such a procedure. After powering off that trusty tool and placing it back beside the computer, she retrieved the tub of burn salve perched only inches from her hip.

“Can I tell you something now?” Howzer spoke suddenly as she uncapped that pot of that sulfur-smelling ointment.

“Sure,” she answered while scooping a generous amount of the orange paste from its container and beginning to smear it carefully atop his side.

“Your fingers are freakishly cold… but anyone who complains about the hands that saved their lives, maybe doesn’t deserve to have been saved in the first place.”

Whatever distant presumption she’d formulated in that microsecond between granting him that unnecessary permission and hearing his opinion voiced, it was nowhere-near matched the unexpectedly profound admonition that left those now-smiling lips.

She paused, hands stilling in their motion of reaffixing the lid back on the tub as she fought to wrangle the dozen or so fundamental reasons why she did not agree with him… and the one reason she did.

“Doesn’t everyone deserve to be saved?” she settled on asking, collecting one of the several bacta patches she’d grabbed earlier.

“Do you actually believe that? Or is that something they tell you to believe?”

His challenge came so simply… so earnestly, it was as if she’d somehow offered him the exact response that he’d expected, and despite the bold nature of his rebuttal, there was no sign of regret lingering in those charmingly superficial lines around his eyes; his gaze did not shift to timidly follow the movements of her hands as they proceeded to tear off the paper backing from that patch but, instead, remained intently searching her eyes for the truth.

”Well, there’s an exception to every rule,” June explained, feeling her cheeks begin to flush under the duress of the vulnerability he had suddenly requested from her. “But surely everyone deserves the same chance at life?”

He offered only a contemplative hum in response, watching her lower that clear polymer patch onto his skin, and ensuring its complete adhesion by pressing firmly around its perimeter.

“Who’s your exception?”

She’d barely begun to crumple the backing paper when he spoke again, pushing himself back to a seated position so quickly that his return to such close proximity nearly froze the breath in her lungs. Yet, more paralyzing in that moment was the audacious probes into her personal beliefs; his brazen yet polite demands for clues as to who she was beyond this already untraditional doctor-patient exchange. And as her gaze flickered upwards from her rubbish laden hand, attempting to find even a glimpse of derision or contempt between those dark, relaxed brows was a feat near impossible, as those honeyed eyes had upheld much of the same twinkle that had already proven held the power to dismantle her.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she answered atop an artificial chuckle.

It was the most she could offer on the small waft of breath her lungs had managed to thaw, and how close she’d come to conceding his tacit request… to actually uttering her truth… to divulging that forbidden secret… unsettled her more thoroughly than any inexplicable degree of attraction had since stepping into 18-S.

“Yes. I would.”

He leaned ever closer, eyes dancing across her features, each lagging blink wordlessly communicating that he’d sit there for eternity if it promised him even a glimmer of her being behind the guise she upheld with a labcoat; that there was some unidentifiable quality about her that he found equally as enamoring; that perhaps if he poked carefully enough at certain spots in this facade of hers, he may actually truly see her.

“Another time, Captain,” she whispered, wrenching her eyes from his and climbing hurriedly off the bed.

“Will there be one?” he asked before she’d even taken a step.

She looked downward to her shoes and the floor firmly beneath them, eyes unfocussing, heart thumping heavily in her ears, lip twitching beneath the sudden urge to hide itself between her teeth lest she say more. She swallowed.

“Keep trying to grapple your way into a gunship and there might be.”

She didn’t turn to watch that grin peel across his lips, instead making a direct line for the Cleanser Tube to retrieve his long-forgotten shirt. Unable to meet his eyes again, she simply tossed it in his direction, muttering a “you can get dressed,” before hurrying to the safety of her near-hidden perch behind the holocomputer and jabbing it back to life.

A prickle erupted atop her skin entirely different from the series of others that had accompanied each bashful smile since the beginning of this somewhat atypical encounter. She was suddenly uncomfortable; suddenly sweating as if she’d just been thrown center stage and was attempting to hide from the beaming spotlight that she’d never asked to be in; suddenly yearning to have her labcoat back on; suddenly and horrifyingly unable to refute the fortuitous connection to this person that she had once tried to label as mere pity, and suddenly desperate to escape it.

Most dismaying was the nearly irrepressible urge to allow him. To tell him. To share. To accept. Blind and potent attraction to someone was one thing; pity was another… but this superseded all other aspects of this precariously flirtatious conversation despite having not been flirtatious in nature at all, and for the first time in a long time, she felt unequipped… unprepared…

‘You hate men,’ she reminded herself, hoping that long-chanted mantra may hold the power to simply erase Howzer from both this room and her awareness.

“Layer two subdermal laceration–” she typed near frantically as he stood to redress. “–Located quadrant 6... 18.4 cm in length… full thickness separation. Hematology shows no evidence of infection or foreign cells. Patient may experience slight hypertrophic scarring. Treated in situ with precision cauterization, Nifuran burn cream, and bacta patch. Escharotomy is not required at this time. Aftercare discussed. Patient discharged forthwith. Care to be continued by CM.”

Piece by piece, his armour clicked back into place, years of practicing those repetitive yet crucial motions had evidently rendered him a near-master at recladding that broad frame in record time, and chancing even the most fleeting glance in his direction saw her increasingly disappointed in herself; the image of his semi naked form now utterly eradicated by the sheer majesty of seeing his tall figure encompassed in that dominating kit.

She could delay no longer, and feigning ignorant of his perch by the door where he stood patiently waiting with her labcoat draped atop the cleanest section of his arm, dwindled in credibility with every extended second she took to type and retype those same treatment notes.

“There in one sec,” she told him without offering him the respect of eye contact, powering off the computer and stalking back toward the storage cupboard to collect a series of other necessities.

He smiled as she approached moments later, eyeing the assortment of supplies she’d clamped somewhat awkwardly in her still purple hands.

“These are for you,” she told him, the desperation to leave his presence and seek the respite of her office intensifying with every second that he cast a smile in her direction. “This little tub is burn cream— it smells like rotten eggs but it’ll help exacerbate the healing process. That patch needs changing every 24 hours, and sooner if the area gets wet so here’s a bunch more. Twist a corner to rip the paper on the back, and then press hard around the edges to activate the adhesive. It’s in a bit of an odd spot, so Gauge may have to help you. He can access my treatment notes using any MedBay computer if he needs them.”

He took each product with a nod of understanding, turning each over in his hands briefly before pocketing them in a cargo pouch nestled on his lower back. Unable to withstand another moment with the undulation in her stomach, she offered Howzer one last smile before turning toward the door.

“Don’t forget this,” he said as she prodded a button on the control panel to free her.

“Oh, right,” she scoffed, collecting her lab coat from his arm with her lip between her teeth and pulling it back over her shoulders.

“Uh– doc?” Howzer probed as she pivoted to enter the chaos awaiting her across the threshold.

“Yeah, Captain.”

“Er… thank you for– you know. It was really nice to meet you. And— and I’m happy you’re not a droid.”

Though his hands uselessly shifted that battered helmet tucked below his arm, he upheld the integrity of his gaze as she peered over her shoulder at him.

“It’s June.” She answered without thinking, the confession swinging a right hook in the direction of both her professional and personal judgment. “My name’s June.”

She left 18-S without another word, without lingering to digest his reaction, without bothering to offer the proper valediction that she should have. She needed her office, she needed to breathe air that wasn’t polluted with the undeniable connection to this random man, and she needed it now.

Foreword | Prev | Next

Tag list: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @moonlightwarriorqueen @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator @arctrooper69

#starqueenswrittenworks #The Only Exception #Howzer x fem!OC #fem!OC x Howzer #captain howzer x fem!OC #fem!oc x Captain Howzer #3rd pov #medical anxiety #medical injuries #moderate whump #whump #mild angst #angst #anxiety #anxiety attack

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savebatsfromscratch · 2 months

Text

Oh be serious Gary - Palletshipping Week 3 (Jealousy)

Summary:

Gary runs into Ash after his Orange Islands journey. Unfortunately, Ash’s new walking partner is there too.

Notes:

Prompt: Jealousy This hurt me to write. I LOVE Tracey and Tracey x Ash, and I think Gary and Tracey would be besties, but if I see whump I write whump. >:) Cws: Canon divergence, jealousy, angst with no happy ending, suggestive joke Words: 2,024 (HA)

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54853867

As Gary watched the two traveling partners laugh, he felt something not so unexpected suddenly burn in his chest. Hot, hot jealousy. Furious enough to even rival the flaring fire that was shooting through the fangs of his rival’s Chrizard. Now tall and shining, the creature could have easily surpassed almost any of Gary’s own Pokemon, and he knew it.

Gary hadn’t seen Ash in quite a while now, and though it was clear that he must have spent some time training his annoyingly tough looking Charizard into one that actually obeyed, Gary wasn’t naive enough to think that that was the only thing he’d been spending his time doing. Gary’s hands balled up into fists as he watched Ash lean against that new traveling partner, practically begging to get punched as the two rubbed their shoulders together. (As usual, Ash had to stand on his tiptoes to even reach.)

Who did this new guy think he was, anyway?! Happily parading around the Kanto region with Gary’s rival as if they’d been the ones to promise forever rivalry to each other. As if they’d been the ones starting as “friends” from the start.

Gary ducked behind a tree to watch as the small group made their way away from the dock and headed towards the more traditional route to Pallet town. Misty was lagging behind slightly as she played with a very excitable looking Togepi. (Had Gary seen it before? Ash had been away for so long he could hardly remember. And, besides, even if he had, their meetings even before Ash’s rendezvous in the Orange Islands had been getting so few and far between that Gary had probably spent as much of the most recent one as he could just eying up his rival.)

Had he really known what it would mean when Ash went to the Orange League without him? Why hadn’t he gone along for the ride?

Gary narrowed his eyes as Ash hugged the new guy, burying his face in the green shirt of his walking partner like no one else at all was around. Maybe “ride” was a more appropriate descriptor than Gary had hoped.

He inched a little closer as the two stopped, waiting for a moment for Misty to catch up with them.

“Glad she didn’t see that,” Ash’s friend was whispering out of the corner of his mouth, “What was it that you said she did whenever Brock would flirt?”

Ash laughed, and though it was a clear and happy sound, Gary just felt sick to his stomach. Brock? Had he too been an option for Ash before Gary was? (And if so, why should he be so surprised about it? He just had to look at what he was seeing to understand a whole new side to Ash.)

“Tracey!” (so that was his name) Ash shook his head, “Brock was so much worse than you, and she never slapped him for flirting with me,” he paused, though the blood that pounded in Gary’s ears made his next words near unhearable, “At least as far as I saw…”

“Guys!” Misty called, running the last couple of steps to reach her friends, “Where are we going next?”

“Professor Oak’s Lab, right?” Ash said, somewhat unsure. He paused, and Gary suddenly realized that his cheating rival was thinking about him as he added, “There’s people I want to see there,”

“Professor Oak?” Tracey interrupted, his voice so full of wonder and excitement that Gary actually felt ill. This Tracey guy was even worse than Gary had first assumed. Gary rolled his eyes as Tracey continued to ramble about supposed “great feats” of research that the Professor had accomplished. If he was really any lover of Ash, he should have known that one of the only really commendable things Professor Oak did that hadn’t been done before or better by another researcher was his constant cheering on of Ash. (To tell the truth, Gary had recently been finding more and more respect in what his grandfather did for a living, but the childish excitement of this green haired nobody was quickly erasing those feelings. Such weak wonders paled under the crushing weight of Gary’s jealousy.)

“Should we fly there then, if you’re so excited to see him?” Ash laughed, gesturing to his Charizard, who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying being back in the forests of the mainland. Ash paused, and Gary would have been stupid to miss a hint of longing in his voice, as he said, “He’s the grandfather of my first rival, you know.”

First rival, was that all he was? (At the very least, Gary could be glad that Tracey stiffened with a hint of his own jealousy at that.)

“Oh yeah, Ash,” Misty interrupted, either not noticing Tracy’s discomfort or ignoring it, “Have you been keeping in touch with Gary?”

There was a quick, awkward pause, which Ash tried (and failed) to cover by picking up Pikachu. “Um,” he struggled, while Gary scoffed to himself. Of course he hadn’t. “Well-,”

“Ash!” Misty gasped, somewhat appalled, though to Gary’s displeasure Tracey looked downright relieved.

That couldn’t possibly do. In a split second, Gary knew what he had to do. Even if it protected his unreliable rival, so long as he made Tracey upset, he was happy.

“Of course he did!” Gary interrupted Misty right before she began one of her tirades, stepping out of the trees and smirking at Ash, who looked somewhere between nauseous and relieved to see him. “Didn’t you, Ashy boy?”

Honestly, even he couldn’t tell if his tone was threatening or flirty, but either way it seemed to work, at least, if Tracey’s unconscious hiss was any indication of how he was feeling.

“Were you listening in on us?!” Tracey asked, almost accusingly, “Is that why you come up so much? Because you might be behind us?”

Gary narrowed his eyes, but his smirk did not falter. He was liking this guy less and less by the second, clearly he had been right in popping up to annoy him. And as for Ash…

Gary turned to his rival, completely ignoring the question as he drank in the expression of utter embarrassment on Ash’s face. Oh yes, this was what he lived for.

“I’m glad to see you again!” He said cheerily, pulling Ash into a hug that copied the way Ash and Tracey had embraced before. (To his surprise, Ash actually hugged back, and though it was faint, Gary’s face twitched in surprise. Despite everything, it truly seemed that Ash really had wanted to see Gary again.)

Gary pulled back, suddenly unsure.

“Do you need a guide?” he asked, and then, once he realized how pathetically unsure he sounded, he added, “You were away for so long I thought you might have forgotten the way to my place,”

Ash made an awful whimpering sound, and Gary felt his smirk widen even further, even as Misty scoffed and interrupted him.

“Oh be serious Gary,” she said (Gary turned to see that her hand was resting comfortingly on Tracey’s shoulder), “Any Pallet Trainer worth their starter knows the way to the lab, and besides…” She narrowed her eyes, “You don’t even live there, you’re a trainer like the rest of us,”

Gary opened his mouth to speak, looking on as one of Tracey’s hands twitched slightly, but Ash grabbed Gary’s shoulder, catching him off guard as he dug his fingernails in. “Um,” he interrupted, “Excuse us,”

Before Gary could even protest, Ash was dragging him away and into the woods, leaving the sounds of Tracey mumbling in shock and Misty quietly comforting him behind them.

Once they were relatively out of earshot, Ash spun around and glared up at Gary. He felt his heart skip a beat, while Gary had grown in the time Ash had taken on the Orange League, Ash had not, but even so, the anger in his now black eyes made Gary take a shocked step back.

“What is wrong with you?!” He spat, though Gary just stared back at him, shocked, “Do you think everything is about you? Who do you think you are?! You don’t own me you know!”

Gary opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed it again.

“Answer me, come on,” Ash commanded, still angry, “I know how smart you are, I know you have an answer, so give it to me!”

Gary tried again, but again nothing came out. Cold wind rustled through the trees.

“Gary…” Ash said, surprising Gary with a sudden shift into pleading, “Please…”

“I-,”

Ash looked up at him, his eyes faded back from coal black to soft brown. Gary swallowed hard. He had to say it. There was no way around it.

“I- I love you,”

His words hung in the air like an awful smell, Ash’s eyes widened as their color darked again.

Gary’s heart sped up. He wasn’t wanted here. He had to get out of here. He turned, hot tears suddenly threatening to spill down his face, but Ash’s voice stopped him. Quiet at first, and then growing louder and more confident as he went on.

“You know,” he murmured, “I never could forget you,”

“Oh come on Ash,” Gary could tell that he was pleading as he spoke, but he didn’t care, “Don’t lie to me, you don’t have to-,”

“No, I mean it,” Ash said, almost scared, but more confident now, “I was only out of the region for a year, but I never stopped thinking about you,” He began to pace, twigs crunching and cracking up his feet, “I know it’s not right, but I can’t help it,”

He stopped, and there was a pause as the distant roar of Ash’s Charizard echoed through the woods. Pikachu purred as Ash scratched behind his ears, clearly trying to calm himself down more than he was working to quiet the little yellow Pokemon.

“What about Tracey?” Gary whispered, dreading the answer.

Ash stopped petting Pikachu, and closed his eyes like looking at Gary hurt him. “I think I love him,” he said, voice shaky and weak again, “But you- I-,”

He stopped.

“I what?” Gary breathed, stepping forward and reaching up, stopping right before grabbing Ash’s hand, “What do you mean?”

Ash’s voice was still shaking when he finally responded.

“I think I love you too,” His eyes were pleading.

Gary’s hand dropped to his side. His mind racing and spinning through emotions and memories. Anger? Jealousy? Relief? Joy? What was he feeling?

What was he feeling?

“So. What now? What now that you’re back here?” Gary asked, his voice now so soft that it surprised even him, “Back in Kanto, what will you do?”

Ash took in a shaky breath, and brushed a hand through his hair. “I want to keep adventuring, I have more league to win,”

“With Tracey?” Gary breathed

“He said he wants to stay,”

“With where?”

“I don’t know,”

“Will you go with me?”

“You’re my rival, I can’t do that,”

Gary bit his lip. How had this become so complicated?

“So what are you going to do?” He asked, fearing an answer for the second time that conversation, “Traveling alone isn’t safe,”

“I don’t know,” Ash was almost whispering, looking at the forest floor with sad eyes. His gaze hardened, and the brown left his eyes once more. “But it can’t be without you, you know that,”

Gary froze, though he’d known it was coming. “Ash, please,” He reached out, but Ash brushed his hand away.

“Come on Pikachu,” Ash murmured, not meeting Gary’s eyes as he began to walk away, “Let’s get back to the others,”

Gary’s knees shook as he watched him go. What was going on? He couldn't just leave like that! It had been so long since they had seen each other, this couldn't be their reunion, there was no way! But Ash's words rang in Gary's head. “You don't own me,” he had said.

He knew that, didn't he?

Didn't he?

This time, Gary waited until Ash was out of earshot before he crumpled to his knees and began to cry.

Notes:

Palletshipping angst save me… Save me Palletshipping angst…

#angst #palletshipping #palletshipping week #palletshipping week 2024 #trainer ash #trainer gary #pokeani #my writing #actual post #trainer tracey #trainer misty #laprasshipping #why the fuck is tracey and ash's ship name also used to refer to ash and laprass #like no hate to those sorts of ships #i've had a few in my day in the dpa fandom #but I feel like that's a very important distinction haha

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darthhopereblogs · 1 year

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Public emeto/sickfic prompts

I just thought I’d make this list. Enjoy! (Hope you like commentary along with your Whump prompts)

You don’t need to credit me if you use these prompts, but I’d love to read whatever you write!

Warnings! Mentions of emeto/vomiting and likely a lot of embarrassment. (These are non-kink)

Character A has to give a presentation/speech/whatever your imagination can think up but they wake up with laryngitis or a sore throat and can’t speak. So, they take some meds for it. However, they neglected to read the label which states that side effects can include nausea and vomiting. It doesn’t hit them until they are standing in front of a whole crowd of people. Use your imagination as to whether they make it through or not.

Character A goes to work/school feeling bad. As the day goes on they start to feel worse. Then, during a quite session (silent reading/work time, etc) their stomach starts to make all sorts of sick noises. Bonus points if the character is normally really introverted and never makes much noise.

Character A and B are doing something for B’s birthday. Character A woke up feeling ill but doesn’t want to miss B’s birthday, they also don’t want their other friends to worry. So, when the friends start to eat, A forces themself to eat as well. This only makes them feel worse.

Character A has an office job where they have to work long hours, maybe something really important is going on or maybe they have a deadline to reach, I don’t know, it’s you’re story. They have been overworking themselves for days (or weeks) and have definitely caught something. Or maybe it’s just from eating and drinking nothing but coffee. But they come to work anyway because they don’t have time to call in sick (why did Ian just suddenly pop into my mind?) However, that probably wasn’t the best call. Use your imagination as to whether they get sick in front of someone else (hence the name “Public”) or somewhere else.

Going off of the last one: maybe A is preparing for a presentation which they can’t call in sick from. This leads to the presentation getting interrupted by the great puking show of 2023.

(Idol AU) Character A is a singer/actor who has to put on a live show. They wake up feeling terrible but go to work (or rehearsal, whatever you do before a show) however… I think you can deduce what happens next. A starts the show. A gets sick in front of an entire live crowd.

Character A has a rather important job, but, unlike our previous characters, they decide to take the day off. Unfortunately for them, it seems that their team cannot function without them! They get called in by their boss halfway though the day, saying that they absolutely must come into work that day. Maybe the team underestimated how sick A was, or maybe they just didn’t care, or just really needed their help. Either way, they realize their mistake when A can’t make it through the day without being sick.

Character A and their friends are going to an amusement park. From here I have multiple prompts:

A reluctantly goes on a ride with their friends but gets extremely motion sick. Unfortunately, due to a malfunction (or some other reason), they are stuck at the top of the ride. Maybe the ride is rocking slightly in the wind, or maybe the height is just to much, either way, A proceeds to get sick all over either themselves or their friends. Much to their shock.

A eats a bit to much junk food before going on a ride. No farther explanation required.

A desides to sit out a ride, maybe they’re already feeling a little sick or maybe they just don’t want to go one it. Either way, their friends go on the ride, leaving them sitting on a bench (or wherever) when they suddenly start feeling sick. Perhaps they got food poisoning from the ridiculous amount of junk food we eat on vacation or perhaps they caught a stomach bug from the ridiculous amount of people who neglect to was their hands! Either way, (I really need to find synonyms for “either way”) A is sick so suddenly they don’t have time to find a restroom, much to their friend’s surprise.

Okay, last one for amusement parks. Maybe the group is a group of kids or maybe they’re just younger adults, either way, *cough cough* AT ANY RATE, they are off running around the amusement park on their own, no parents in sight (or older adults, but I see this one more for kids) when A starts of feel sick. Either they decide against telling their friends or, you know, they decide to. AT ANY RATE, (so sorry) the friends have no idea what to do, they look for their parents but can’t find them. The situation gets even worse when A gets sick before they can find a restroom.

Character A is going on a vacation with a friend and their family. Unfortunately, they end up getting extremely motion sick (maybe their driving through the mountains or something). However, they don’t want to bother their friend and so decide to just try and sit it out. This doesn’t work and they end up being sick all over their friend’s car. Bonus points if A doesn’t really know their friend’s parents and isn’t that comfortable around them. Bonus, bonus points if A remains sick even after getting out of the car and has to deal with being sick in an unfamiliar environment with adults they barely know. (Also makes for a good fluff prompt between the friends.)

Thank you for staying with me to the end!

If you want me to write one of these send me a number (or multiple) and I’ll write it for one of my OCs!

#Stomach ache #sickfic #whump #prompts #emeto #emeto prompts #sickfic prompt #sicknario #whump prompt #prompt list #public emeto #public emeto prompts #public sickfic prompts #puking #EMETO WARNING #vomiting

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brutal-nemesis · 7 months

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Goretober X: Don't Be Vein

This one very short I've been super busy the past week and also I'm very tired last actual gore piece for @coyotehusk goretober tho so yee haw go me

←Previous - Castys Masterlist - Goretober Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: body horror of the surreal variety, gore, fun with delicate lil blood vessels, emeto mention

Castys had absolutely zero idea what Kuro was doing. Not that he usually did, but he could at least guess most of the time. Now, she was just rooting around inside his arm, digging deep into the muscle as he bit down hard on the gag in his mouth and tried not to wiggle too much.

“There it is!” Castys could feel Kuro’s smile as she looked down at the gaping wound she’d been probing around in. “I finally found one of your larger blood vessels. I want to see if it’ll do the same thing your intestines do.” Castys raised an eyebrow. They probably would, but he wasn’t exactly eager to find out. Unfortunately, he was about to.

Kuro was gentle as she freed the vein from inside of his muscle, most likely trying not to break it and make him bleed to death before she was ready. It was a lot smaller than Castys expected, just sort of pink and stringy, like a…worm. Too soon. He had to think about something other than worms. His leg started hurting anyway, as if this leg could even remember pain that it never fucking felt in the first place since the one that did got chopped off. But his scars on his torso and face ached sometimes, too, and those were from so long ago that he doubted any of them had never been replaced.

After a long time of careful cutting and pulling, a small number of his blood vessels were totally free of his muscle, laid out limply on his exposed bone. Castys’s view of them wasn’t great, but he was very much okay with that. Oh, and now he was going to get to die, so hopefully things wouldn’t be fucked up when he came back.

Things were fucked up.

He looked down at his arm almost immediately after coming back to life, and the sight was…surreal, to say the least. The thin vessels laid on top of the skin of his inner forearm, sort of fused to it at the bottom, their ends leading back down into his flesh. They pulsated weirdly as his blood flowed through them, and the sight wasn’t something Castys wanted to get used to.

“That was fun! I haven’t done delicate work like that in a while. Do you mind if I do that to your other limbs?” Kuro asked as she removed the gag, excitement in her voice.

“I do in fact mind, but I don’t think you care, so why are you asking?”

Kuro shrugged. “So you can feel like you have a little bit of control for a moment.”

“It’s not helping.”

“Aw, too bad,” she said as she tied the gag over his mouth again.

Back to disregarding his opinion, Kuro started on his other arm, and once that was done she moved on to his legs. The whole process took hours, intense pain and cold and dripping blood, and he was hardly aware of anything else by the time she was done. Once again, she made him look, and once again, it wasn’t something he wanted to see, all of the pink squiggles running up and down his arms and legs, pulsing along to his heartbeat. It sort of made him feel sick for some reason, so he did his best not to puke into the gag.

He didn’t know how much more of this he could take, and that scared him.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump @blackrosesandwhump @fanmanga1357-blog @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hearse-song @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen @galaxywhump @starnight-whump @his-unspoken-words @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg @pumpkin-spice-whump @painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad @befuddled-calico-whump @whumpinggrounds @whump-queen @whumpedydump

#i wrote something #castys #kuro #gore #immortal whumpee #body horror #hard to come up with an idea for this one so sorry its not much #but i am looking forward to a break with no more deadlines #my dog has been asleep on my lap for the past hour send help my legs are in pain #might have to commit the cardinal sin of making her move :(#okay bye im eepy

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squidkid15 · 2 years

Note

As a deep and long-time lover of whump if you're serious about being all right taking time out to give me a list I would absolutely LOVE a list.

so I'm too lazy to alphabetize it but *cracks knuckles* let's see how this goes

Read more because I was serious about him having a shitton of issues.

The circlets he's wearing in that new picture? Yeah none of those is the original one

His tongue is lightly coated in copper after 500 years of being fed nothing but that. His sense of taste is greatly reduced, and he can faintly taste copper all the time.

His Tripitaka was...pretty cruel to him. Wukong, of course, has yet to realize this fully. He still thinks the monk was trying to help - he just failed at it (see next bullet)

He spent all of jttw and afterward being called all sorts of terrible things and never being thanked/being good enough that he's decided he never will be. ("A good person? Nah. I'm not one of those.") He's given up on it.

He no longer does things just for the sake of being a "good person," he'll only do it if he wants to. Usually, these things overlap, what he wants is generally good, but not always. He's decided that no one will ever see him as good/good enough so he's stopped trying.

Oh, every single one of these issues? Before and after this bullet? Never addressed. He's the definition of "I'll keep all my emotions right here and then one day I'll die". Except, unfortunately, that second part never happens so all those emotions have been bottled for literally thousands of years.

He has been borrowing mental spoons from future wukong for centuries and at some point he's gonna run out of spoons to borrow

Doesn't sleep. Ever. Hasn't for a LONG time. His Macaque has sleep/dream powers and made sure Wukong has nightmares any time he's asleep. So he just. Doesn't. This does not help the 'mental spoons' issue.

He killed his Mac. Like flat out did it. Knows he did it, meant to do it (sorta). Soooooo thats like 29473834 issues wrapped into one

The four NEW circlets were tossed on him after the fire was split. The force of taking the ring knocked him out and when he woke up he was wearing not one, not two, but FOUR circlets. Heaven claimed it was to seal the Samadhi Fire (which it does do!) but Ne'Zha and DBK don't have them so Wukong knows better.

"Last 'good thing' I did, I helped a friend with his kid. And it landed me in chains."

The new circlets have only been used once - right after he woke up and tried to rampage through heaven when he saw what they did. They were used just the once to stop that, and now remain as just a threat, but a very real one.

He won't fight back (unless its to protect someone he cares about). He just won't. Last time he fought back he killed his best friend, so he Will Not defend himself. Any amount of verbal or physical abuse, if it's aimed at only him, he won't fight back. Mac has said some awful things to him and Wukong just looks away.

Mac gave him a nightmare about Wukong killing him again and Wukong woke up and rolled right into a full-blown panic attack. It was really bad.

Killed his Mac to protect the jttw gang, and was...mostly in his right mind at the time. Buried pretty deep in Stockholm Syndrome, he didn't see that Mac was trying to help. Mac's powers make it near impossible to stop him without lethal force, and...so that's what Wukong used. He shifted into "this is a threat. threats need to be stopped" mentality, and only after he'd snapped mac's neck did he fully process what he did.

He completely understands Mac's grudge, has never tried to defend or explain himself there.

#squid speaks #answers #anonymous #lmk daydreams au

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jedi-lothwolf · 2 months

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Whump: The Musical Day 7: The Last Five Years (I will not lose because you can not win.")

Fandom: The Batch Batch

Warning: Cannon typical violence

Summary: When Hemlock invades Pabu, the batch has to fight for their lives as well as the lives of the citizens of the peaceful Island.

Ao3 link

Today was supposed to be an ordinary day. When Hunter had woken up, he was dragged down to the beach by Omega and Deke. They wanted to show him that they had learned how to surf. Even if he wouldn't admit it, Hunter was proud of the clones for learning how to be children.

Wrecker had forced Crosshair down to the beach as well. The warm sand and pleasant smell should help him to relax the man thought. So the three brothers sat on a red towel and started to talk. It wasn't much, but it was somewhere to start.

Mox and Stak joined them shortly and started to work on a sand castle. Some clouds covered the sunny sky. But when Hunter looked up, they weren't clouds. Imperial vessels blocked the sun.

This couldn't be happening. Pabu was supposed to be safe. It wasn't meant for invasions. So many of the people spent too long running just to have to up their whole lives again. Hunter looked back down.

Looking at Crosshair, he spoke. "Get Omega and the boys to the ship. Be ready to leave. Call Echo and tell him we need help, immediately."

In truth, Hunter knew why he chose Crosshair. With his hand, even if he hadn't told them yet, he knew that he'd be the one whose help they need the least. Now if he could still hit any mark, that could have been a different story.

But there was more to that. Wrecker had a history with Pabu. He would protect it fiercely. The island was his home, the people were his family.

As Deke rode a wave in, Hunter stood. The father ran out to two of his youngest that were in the water. "Go over to Crosshair" he told them. They nodded before Hunter went to Mox and Stak and pulled them up from the sand.

"What's going on?" Mox asked. Nervousness was written all over his face.

"The empire-"

"We could tell" Stak interrupted.

"Go with your siblings." It was the first time he had outright called their siblings to their faces. If it had been any other time, Hunter would have said more. For now, it would have to wait."

As Hunter walked the other two over with the rest of the group, Omega started to talk. "We can help!"

"I know, but it's you they want and the boys haven't finished their training. It's safer this way."

"And someone needs to watch Cross." Wrecker tried to add some humor to the situation.

Phee joined them on the beach, knowing that it was Clone Force 99 who had unfortunately brought the Empire to Pabu. Hunter walked over to her before she met the rest of the group. "Make sure Omega gets out of here. They want her and we wouldn't let her get taken again."

"Okay." She looked past the Sargent, "come on kids, let's get you to safety!"

Sighing, Crosshair grabbed Omega and picked her up. "Come on."

"Put me down!" Omega fought Crosshair all the way up the beach.

"Now what?" Wrecker asked.

"We fight."

At the Mauradur, Crosshair was quick to make the decision to leave. Batcher awoke from her nap and laid with Omega to help keep her calm. The boys mostly sat with her or talked to Crosshair as they left the atmosphere and headed to Coruscant to meet with Echo.

As the days passed, the battle of Pabu seemed to be more and more helpless. Civilians were dying, some who had fought and some who had not.

When the bad batch had settled on Pabu, they taught Shep how to shoot. The mayor had agreed to ease their minds, never thinking he would need to use this new skill. Unfortunately it was only a matter of time. Lyana stayed near her father when she could. Mostly she was hidden with other children.

When the invasion began, Hunter had suddenly become a Sargent again. It had been a long time since he played that role. Civilians who had fought in wars, civil or intergalactical, had taken up their old military rank. It was strange.

The invasion had lasted days. Hemlock wouldn't give up until he found Omega, unaware she had been taken off world. Pabu was being torn apart, lives crumbled to the ground and while some knew why the empire had attacked, most didn't. For the people who did, they couldn't and wouldn't be mad at Clone Force 99 for trying to live peaceful lives and for trying to protect their daughter and little girl.

It had been four days into the fighting when Hemlock showed his face. When Hunter met Hemlock for the second time, injured and tired, he knew meeting the scientist twice was three times too many.

"Hello CT-9901, or should I say Hunter?" Hemlock spoke.

Startled and out of breath, Hunter didn't answer. It had been so long since he heard his CT number, he had almost forgotten it. Still, he knew the malice behind it.

"This can all end, just give me the girl."

"Never." Hunter moved behind a counter. He sank to the floor for a moment.

"I figured as much. I truly am impressed that you are capable of forming such a bond with her. A parental role appears to come so easily to you."

The words made Hunter's skin crawl. Why would he be unable to form a bond with her? Omega was his daughter, nothing could change that. Was it because he was a clone? Was that why he was deemed unable to love a child, to have children he felt were his own?

"The safest option for your men and the civilians of this island, is to stop the fighting. You cannot win this battle, Sargent."

"I will not lose because you can not win."

Silents filled the room. They stood in a ruined kitchen. The checkered floors were stained with blood and glass. The cabinets had been torn open by both the empire and the citizens of Pabu. They needed food and they needed wood. The empire hadn't taken their time to bring out flame throwers to scorch the island and its people.

"You, won't win this." Hunter reinforced the idea. "You can't. I won't let you. " Pulling his knife from its sheath, he tried to find a clear shot at Hemlock.

The scientist couldn't win. In the end, he would round up every single citizen and kill them off. With Wrecker taking part in the fight, he needed his to be okay. With everything Tech had sacrificed to save them, they couldn't die here. Crosshair and his kids would be alone. It hurt knowing that Omega would blame herself for the slaughter of the people of Pabu. Echo would wish he arrived earlier and would blame himself for not being there to save them.

They needed saving. They couldn't do it alone. The Sargent only had one shot at killing Hemlock. Blood pooled under Hunter from his injuries. With broken ribs, multiple deep lacerations on his legs as well as his arms and one close to his neck, a few broken toes, and a large amount of bruising, the man was unsure how he had stayed alive this long. He could feel blood on the side of his face but he wasn't sure if it came from his left ear (since he couldn't hear from it) or from his head.

The vibro-knife shook in his hand. It almost felt foreign. Standing slowly, yet staying out of view, Hunter grabbed a piece of glass from behind the mahogany counter. Looking at it for a moment, he sighed. They couldn't afford to lose. Not anymore. Losing meant dying and for the first time in so long, Hunter had something to live for. His brothers and children and family he had made on Padu and his pets (Gonky included) all meant the world to him. No one else needed to die.

However, If he had to give all of that up to save them, to win the battle of Pabu, the battle for his family, he would.

Throwing the glass, Hunter hoped that it would distract Hemlock and his guards. When it did, the man stood fully and threw his knife. As soon as he saw it plunge deep into his skull, he felt a weight be lifted off of his chest. The weight was replaced with a bullet.

The tile cracked when he fell. There wasn't much Hunter could think about. The sound of ships overhead relieved Hunter. It had to be Echo. If not, the empire would take the island in a matter of hours.

Hunter's entire body hurt. The warm feeling of blood tangled with his hair. The glass had cut any exposed skin. The guards grabbed Hemlock's body and went to leave. Hunter listened to the footsteps as they faded. His mind was so foggy that evening and nothing made his sense. But Hemlock was dead. If that was Echo, which it had to be, Pabu would rebuild. The coppery smell of blood filled Hunter's nose.

Dying, Hunter tried to reach for his comm. Hitting it, the world started to fade. His hand rested on the communication device long enough for Echo to notice the soft noise of fire and gunshots that played over his headset. Then his hand slipped off the button and the comm channel went silent.

The man had never expected to wake up again. But when he saw a white roof, he knew something was different. Everything hurt too damn much for him to be dead. There was a steady, high pitched beeping that hurt his ears; or at least the one he could still hear out of.

Had they won? Was everyone safe? Where was his family, his kids?

"Hunter!" Omega yelled, answering one of his questions. "He's awake" she shook Echo awake.

"Hunter?" Echo grounded as he sat up. Then he pinched himself.

"You actually woke up." Crosshair stood up. "It's been a week."

"Leave him alone. He needed his beauty rest" Wrecker joked. The boys and Batcher sat in the corner of the room, still half asleep.

"Is everyone, okay?" Hunter finally said, struggling to speak.

"We're okay."

"Pa-Pabu."

"In shambles. We were about to leave to help with the rebuilding and attend a few funerals. We'll send you regards. They people were rooting for you." Echo told him.

"We're lucky you came in when you did. You saved us." Nudging Echo, Wrecker walked over to wake up the boys.

"Where-"

"Alderaan. Rex has some allies here. We couldn't help you on our own, the damage done to you, it was too extensive." Walking beside Hunter, Echo stood next to him.

"Dad!" Deke yelled, excited. He ran over to him and just about toppled Echo.

"You're actually alive" Stak added.

"Hey." Mox was the last to stand as he was trying to not disturb Batcher.

Hemlock's words about his parental instincts ran through Hunter's head. However, that didn't matter. He was their father. Just because he was a clone didn't mean he didn't form bonds with people he cared dearly for.

"We can stay for a little but Hunter needs to rest, we need to get back to Pabu." Walking to the door, Echo went to tell the nurses that Hunter had woken up.

Omega clung to Hunter's arm, determined to never let go. Crosshair and Wrecker sat at the end of the bed. Wrecker looked rough but that was to be expected.

"Tell me everything later" the Sargent whispered.

"We will." After a few hours, Echo decided it was time to go. Omega and Batcher stayed with Hunter while the rest left for Pabu. Knowing that Hemlock couldn't hurt her, made breathing just a little bit easier. So did knowing that most everyone he cared about was safe; though by now someone would have told him if Phee, Shep, or Lyana had died.

Everything would be okay. It had to be. Now that Hemlock was out of the way, maybe the batch could live a peaceful life. Even if Hunter knew they would end up in the fight, it was a nice thought. But the clone knew his place was fighting for peace. After all, if he wanted Omega and his boys to be safe, he needed to make a safer galaxy. And that was okay with him. If he needed to fight he would. For his children.

@whumpthemusical

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whumpshaped · 2 years

Text

tw phobia exploitation (electrocution + mental hospitals), sensory deprivation, pet whump, nonhuman whumper, whumper turned whumpee, humiliation

"It was fun while it lasted, Chewtoy. Unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to."

Seth thought he could handle sensory deprivation. That it'd be child's play – leaps better than having to listen to Anton.

He was tied by the wrists, secured to the hook on the ceiling. Not too high up, he could still stand normally. Anton was planning on leaving him for a good while, then. A blindfold went over their eyes, and a gag in their mouth.

"Oh, yeah, forgot to mention this," he started when Seth was already unable to talk back, "but I made sure your collar would go off at random times. Random intensity as well." Seth whimpered, desperately wanting to protest that development. "Have fun!"

The noise cancelling earphones were put in place, and that was it. Strung up like meat, left in total darkness and silence. The collar around their neck suddenly felt terribly heavy.

It didn't take long for the first shock to come, and it was harsh. Harsher than usual, meaner than Anton's warning shocks. He cried into the gag, unsure whether he'd made any noticeable noise to the outside world. God, he was already crying.

(mental hospital thoughts start)

The total lack of his senses made his mind run wild, and suddenly he wasn't at Anton's anymore. He was in one of those places, with the insane fucking nurses and the sadistic doctors that wanted nothing but to fry his brain until there was nothing left. Suddenly he wasn't a grown adult, 24 and counting – god, maybe it'd been years, who knew how old he was at this point – he was nothing but a scared child thrown away by his parents and left to suffer.

The bit in his mouth played into it, making perfect sense according to all those fucking documentaries. 'We can't have our patients biting through their own tongues.' They could feel tears soaking the blindfold, and they just couldn't stop thrashing and yanking on their hands so that maybe the rope would give.

Please. Please. Mom, please, I'll change, I promised I would, please. Dad? Tell her I'd change! Please!

Please don't leave me here!

The collar never left them much of a chance to compose themself, and they were breaking apart fast. His entire body was painfully tense, he was sobbing like a baby, and he couldn't shake the feeling that there were others in the room, touching, adjusting, scribbling notes and laughing. At one point he distantly realised he must've wet himself; he couldn't even bring himself to care.

The doctor would care. Disgusting. Broken. Faulty. In need of more fixing. More shocks. More time locked away and tortured. He was never getting out.

I'll change. I'll change. I'll change. I'll change.

Hours had passed. The sun was coming up, and Seth was still dangling by his wrists, exhausted and in agony. Anton had forgotten about letting him down, going to sleep as soon as he got home. It had been an entire day by the time he finally woke up and decided he wanted to feed. An entire day of misery, terror and pain.

Seth flinched when someone touched him, really touched him. It wasn't just his mind anymore, someone was removing the gag and the earphones and the-

"Oh, that's fucking gross."

They whimpered quietly. They were so sorry. So sorry. Please. They'll do better.

The person he saw wasn't a doctor, or a nurse, it was… his owner. And his owner looked absolutely disgusted.

"Go wash up, I'm not biting you like this. You look like shit." He let Seth crumple to the ground once he was out of his restraints, kicking him towards the bathroom. "Quickly, I'm starving."

Another shock bolted through his body, and Seth whined, desperately clawing at the stupid fucking thing. "Please take it off!" he cried, voice raspy from 24 hours of screaming into a gag. "Please, Master, I'll do anything, please!"

"Shut the fuck up, it's way too early for this." Anton grabbed him by the hair and unlocked the collar, tossing it aside. Seth needed to be able to clean his neck anyway if he wanted to feed. "Go."

The gratitude was unrivalled by anything Seth had ever felt in his life. He crawled to the bathroom faster than ever, throwing his clothes away and scrubbing himself entirely clean. Scrub scrub scrub scrub – maybe if he scrubbed hard enough, the entire experience would just leave his body and slide down the drain.

No. He didn't want that. He needed to remember so he could avoid it happening again. He needed to change, he needed to be good. His parents' approval was replaced by Anton's, and he scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, as quickly as possible, as thoroughly as possible, so he could go and be a good fucking bloodbag.

He was bleeding in some places by the time he got out, and it almost made him weep again. That was Anton's blood. He was wasting it. Anton was going to put the collar right back on because he was wasteful and bad and-

"For fuck's sake, Chewtoy, how much time are you going to spend in there?"

Seth grabbed a fresh set of clothes and put them on hastily, rushing out of the bathroom. He couldn't stop himself from flinching when Anton bit him, but the feeling of fangs sinking into his delicate flesh was way more comforting than… than that thing.

He stayed perfectly still while Anton was drinking, somewhere in the back of his mind hoping that he would forget entirely about his presence. That he'd just get chucked into the trash like an empty soda can when he was done, instead of having the collar put back on, instead of having to endure a single more day of this.

But when Anton was finally satisfied, his first move was to reach for the collar. Seth immediately scrambled to get away, even though his mind was screaming at him to stay still and good.

"Please no- please, please, I'll be g-good, I'll be good, I swear, please, please d-don't, please…"

"Stop being such a crybaby." Anton pointed to the floor, looking wholly unimpressed by the begging. Did he have a bad night yesterday? Seth didn't have anything to do with that – in fact, he'd had quite the shit night himself.

Still, he crawled back over, letting himself be collared even if he was sobbing the entire time.

He was never getting out.

taglist: @whumpsday @whump-queen @lost-in-labradorite-halls @hidden-dreamland @lonesome--hunter

#bbe #anton #writer whumper

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tracybirds · 1 year

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Hello!

Overworked and headachy as I am, I couldn't resist sending an ask for the Little Whump List.

2 numbers, 2 brothers - you choose how to combine them!

30. Unfortunate choice of clothing (or however it was worded!) 4. Tummy ache

Gordon and John

*hugs you lots* I'm sorry you're under the grind right now, I hope this small offering help brighten your evening <33 I def want to do the other one soon too but I am rapidly running out of evening!!!

Prompts are from @gumnut-logic's Little Whump List which hey, if you like it, I'm still open for ahaha just might take a day or two!

30. Unfortunate choice of clothing

"Come on, John, you've got to experiment a bit. Spice of life, remember?"

"I don't think that that's meant for clothing," retorted John. "Besides, Grandma says I look good in blue."

"Are you kidding?" demanded Gordon. "Clothing's the perfect place to start. Totally low stakes. Come on, what screams you in this shop?"

John held up the familiar button-down that matched the one he was wearing, the deep blue reminiscent of the boundary where the atmosphere gave way to the universe beyond.

"This one."

Gordon groaned.

"Okay, fine, you're the most boring person alive, we get it."

"I'm not boring!"

"You have literally bought the exact same shirt every three years since you were 11."

"It's not the exact same," said John disdainfully. "I've grown taller. And they changed the shape of the pocket."

"Right, yes, sorry," said Gordon, rolling his eyes. "The pocket shape changes everything."

"Why would I buy a different shirt anyway?" asked John, as though the idea had never occurred to him. "I like this one; the sleeves sit right, the fabric's not all clingy, and it's soft."

"We can find you another soft shirt," said Gordon impatiently. "But come on, John, shake things up a bit. You can buy your favourite one too if you must."

Sensing that Gordon wasn't going to give in, John sighed irritably and folded the new, blue shirt neatly and placed it in the basket.

"Fine," he said with a grumble. "Lead the way."

Shirt after shirt was bundled into John's arms and summarily rejected. This one was too long and that one was scratchy and "for the last time Gordon, I'm not getting anything with short sleeves."

Gordon scowled as he looked around the store.

"There's got to be something here for you."

John shrugged and reached out to flip through the clearance rack, hands trailing down the material as he considered each shirt carefully.

"I mean, come on, John," continued Gordon. "This is the biggest department store in New York City, there's got to be something that you like."

John paused, the material of a shirt falling smoothly through his hands. His fingers plucked at the piping with interest, the soft edge feeling almost metallic against his skin. He pulled it out, carefully examining the inside for any sign of poor construction that might irritate him on the hard nights that followed his training on Thunderbird Five.

"This one," he said firmly, and dove back into the changing room before Gordon could turn to ask what he had found.

He stepped back out moments later with a small, satisfied smile.

Gordon gaped.

The shirt was a hideous brown sat completely wrong with his hair colour, some kind of drunk plaid, lined with gold piping. The effect was startling, but even more incredibly, thought Gordon, John actually seemed to like it.

"Uh, are you sure?"

"I know it's a bit 'experimental' and all," said John, emphasising the term Gordon had himself been advocating for. "New colour and all. But green's not meant to be a bad look on redheads, right?"

In a flash, Gordon knew what had happened.

John's colour blindness had caused him to muddle the pale brown for a soft green that ought to have complemented his eyes, but instead clashed horribly to normal vision.

He had a split second to decide on his response.

Be a good brother? Or....

"Oh, yeah, that'll be an experiment for you alright!" he said cheerfully. "Looks good!" Was that piping? he wondered, smile fixing in place as he took in the view. "Maybe they'll let you wear it out?"

John twisted to stare at the mirror, eyes peering critically at his image. The frown cleared and he smiled shyly at Gordon.

"Yeah, maybe" he said. "Thanks Gordon, I guess I needed that push... this could become a new favourite of mine."

Gordon smiled, wide and bright and full of delight as to the months ahead.

"I really hope so, Johnny!"

#i got a vision of john being partially red-green colour blind and gordon suggesting the ugly shirt to him and I went yes #frgive the very loose colour blindness research #john tracy #gordon tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic

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