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whumpsday · 11 months

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Kane & Jim BBU AU #3: Erased

Previous / Kane & Jim AUs Masterlist

content: bbu, pet whump, rescue, recovery, caretaking, amnesia, whumper turned whumpee, starvation

takes place 10 years after Liz rescues 913/Jim. don't forget to read ⭐ this drabble ⭐ taking place between #2 and #3 first!!

@bbu-on-the-side BBU Community Days #13: Safety

Jim was a person. He'd been a person for almost ten years, now. It was hard at first, but he was used to it by now.

He couldn't legally work, but he'd been helping out where he could. In a way, he was still doing the same things he did as a domestic, just by choice this time, for his family. He was good at it, and even if he wasn't a fan of all of it, he liked cooking. Liz told him he'd always liked cooking, even before. He had no problem believing that. He even did some odd jobs around the neighborhood that worked in cash, babysitting and mowing lawns and shoveling snow.

He wasn't as involved in the pet lib stuff as she was. It scared him, even after he'd started being able to stand up to the voice in the back of his head that repeated everything his handlers told him. Too risky.

Life wasn't a constant walk on eggshells anymore. He still got scared sometimes, or fell into his old conditioning, but he was safe. He was free.

So when Jim was out grocery shopping, he almost dropped his basket when he saw him.

There, right down the aisle. He'd know that face anywhere. Practically the only face he saw for the first five years of his memorable life.

He almost bolted right away, but something was... off. Master didn't look like how he usually did. Gone were the expensive suits and bitter scowl, replaced with plain clothing and an anxious frown.

He was wearing a collar.

Jim ducked into the next aisle, watching him through the gaps in the shelves. There was no way, right? Master- Kane was wildly rich. He'd have no need to sell himself to WRU.

But Kane went missing years ago. No one knew where he was, or what had happened to him.

He watched Kane further, looking down at a list and plucking items off the shelves, eyebrows bunched together with nerves. Jim had never seen Kane look this... unsure of himself.

There was a barcode on his wrist too, sure enough. It wasn't clear enough to make out from this far, but he could see the number, something with a 4 in it.

He wondered if Kane's owner gave him a name.

It was stupid, Jim knew. But he had to. He couldn't just leave, not after seeing this.

Jim hesitantly approached, ready to run at any time. "Master?" he asked, voice coming out smaller than he'd have liked.

Kane turned, eyeing him up and down, only growing more tense. "My master sent me to do his shopping, sir." He shrunk away slightly, as if afraid Jim would hurt him after finding out he was alone.

"Do you remember me?" Jim blurted out, despite already knowing the answer.

"I'm sorry, sir." Kane's hands gripped the cart's handle tight, like it would protect him. "I'm- I'm bad at- at everything. I'm so sorry."

Of course Kane thought Jim was a person. He had taken care to remove every last trace of his tattoo, though the marks on his neck from the collar wouldn't go away, even after a decade. But Kane wouldn't be able to see that under his turtleneck.

"It's alright," he said softly. The words 913 had wanted to hear so, so badly. "I'm Jim. I knew you before."

That certainly got Kane's attention. "I'm- my designation is 110146. Do you mean... before I was a pet, sir?"

"Yeah." Jim could fully take stock of Kane's state, now that he was standing close. Dark circles ringed his eyes, bruises poked out from under his sleeve. He looked thinner than Jim had ever seen him, to the point it was obvious he wasn't being allowed enough food. And-

Something that looked like a knife mark, barely visible above his neckline.

"Yours hurts you?" Jim asked.

Kane seemed to study him, searching for a shred of mocking for a moment. He found none. "Master can do as he likes with his pet," he settled on.

Jim stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Mine did, too." His heart raced at the revelation. He hadn't told anyone outside of pet lib about his past, ever. And here he was telling Kane, of all people.

Kane glanced at his wrist again, but of course he found nothing. "Yours, sir?" he asked.

Jim tugged his collar down for a moment, revealing the faint outline of a collar that had scarred itself permanently into his skin. "Mine."

Kane's eyes widened. "Oh."

"You wanna get out of here?" Jim extended a hand toward Kane, even as every logical bone in his body screamed at him that he was being a careless idiot, throwing his life away for someone who never cared.

Kane looked around wildly. "I can't just- Master would be furious."

"Life can be better than this. I promise." Jim kept his arm extended. "No more hurting. And I can get you a good meal."

Kane stood there frozen for a long moment, just staring at him, before he broke down in quiet tears. He forced himself to nod. "I- I- Thank you."

He reached forward and took Jim's hand uncertainly, bony fingers wrapping around Jim's own.

"You're doing great," Jim encouraged. Despite a lifetime of resentment, all he could see was the terrified boxie in front of him now. Kane couldn't even remember how cruel he used to be. He couldn't even remember his own name. "Just try and calm down a little. You're gonna be okay."

Kane clung to Jim's forearm like a lifeline. "Yes, s-sir."

Jim tried to calm himself down, too. Having Kane on him like this flipped a switch in his brain that told him to cower and placate, that he was about to be hurt. But he managed to repress it, with some effort. He'd had a lot of practice over the years.

When Kane got himself to stop crying and wiped the tears from his eyes, he nodded. "Thank you for- for being patient with me. I'm ready."

"Good," Jim said approvingly. "I'm just gonna check out what I've got in my basket, and you can follow behind me and pretend to be... you know. We'll get outta here without a second look from anyone. Just follow my lead."

Kane did spare a glance for his nearly-full shopping cart, but nodded agreeably anyway. "Yes, sir."

God, that was still so weird.

Jim eyed the meat section they'd met in. Kane always loved steak. He couldn't afford the fancy stuff he used to make as Kane's pet, but he grabbed a cheap, on-sale cut and threw it in his basket.

"By the way, your name's Kane. Kane de Sang."

There was no issue getting out of the supermarket, and Six- Kane, now, or maybe again- followed behind Jim like his life depended on it. Jim from before. He wanted to offer to carry the bags, but he didn't. He didn't want to do anything to disrupt what was happening, this miraculous whisking-away.

He was being so bad. Master would be beyond furious. Master would punish him worse than he'd ever been punished before. But Six was so tired. He had no idea what was in store for him here, but it had to be better than back home.

Jim led him to an apartment building, opening the door and ushering him inside. "I'm home!" he called, setting the groceries down on the kitchen counter. He turned to Six and gestured toward the couch. "Have a seat there," he ordered, his voice gentle.

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Six sat, grateful for the simple, easy-to-follow order.

"We don't have a lot of extra space, so you're gonna be sleeping on the couch, sorry. I'm just gonna go explain what's going on to my sister. Don't worry, she's with us-"

"What the fuck!" a woman shouted as she came out from one of the rooms. She glared at Six, bolting protectively in front of Jim.

Six pressed himself back against the couch, putting his arms up in surrender. "I'm s-sorry, ma'am, I'm so sorry, I thought- he said-" He cut himself off with a sob. He was so stupid to go along with this, breaking the rules. He didn't even know why this woman was angry with him, but at least with Master he knew what to expect. He didn't know how to please these new people. How could he have thought this would work? "I'm sorry!"

Jim placed a hand on her shoulder. "Liz, it's okay."

"You can't have him!" the woman called Liz shouted at Six with a glare, only confusing him further.

"I don't- Ma'am, I'm so sorry, I don't understand!" Six cried.

"Liz." Jim stepped out from behind her and, to Six's great relief, got between the two of them. "Look at him for two seconds. Like actually look."

Liz listened, even though Jim was sort-of-a-pet. Her eyes lingered on Six's collar.

"He doesn't even remember," Jim continued.

Liz eyed him warily. "You're a boxie? You?"

"Yes, ma'am," Six answered, still pressed back into the couch. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that- that my presence here would be a detriment. I could go back?" He could still make it back to the grocery store and home with the shopping. Master would punish his lateness, but it would be far better than a punishment for an attempted escape.

"You're not going back," Jim said so firmly that Six couldn't possibly argue with him. He turned to the woman. "He's just another rescue. Could we host him? I just- I gotta make sure myself. That he's taken care of."

Another? he wondered.

"You sure? You don't have to deal with him again if you don't wanna. There's plenty of people who'd be willing to safehouse. He's put you through enough."

Six's stomach dropped. When Jim said he knew him before, Six had thought he meant they were friendly. Why would someone he's been enemies with help him?

"I'm sure." Jim stepped forward and gestured toward Six. "Liz, this is Kane. Kane, this is my sister, Liz. Neither of us are gonna hurt you. You're safe now."

Six- Kane, he was Kane now, he had to remember- bowed his head. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

Liz wouldn't stop looking at Kane like he was a bomb that could go off at any moment. "We've met," she said coldly.

"C'mon, be nice. He can't even remember," Jim pointed out.

Liz sighed. "Yeah, sorry, you're right." Her gaze softened. "It's good to meet you too, Kane." She headed to the kitchen. "I'll put the groceries away before I head to work."

"Thanks. I'll save you leftovers." Jim sat next to him. "So, you got any questions? I know this is a lot, believe me. I've been through it, too."

"What will be expected of me here, sir?" Kane asked. That was the most important thing. He couldn't do what he was supposed to without knowing what it was first. "What will my duties be?"

"First, you can just rest and recover. It's been a while since you've had a break, I bet, and you look like a strong gust of wind could blow you over. Take a breather. Once you're better, we can split work around the house and some odd jobs I do in the neighborhood, which is mostly just stuff you know how to do anyway. Domestic stuff. If there's anything I want you to do, I'll let you know, so don't worry about trying to guess."

Kane nodded, a bit nervous about not having duties to fulfill. He wanted to make a good impression.

"I mean, I assume you're a domestic, 'cause you were doing the shopping. Unless I'm wrong...?" Jim asked cautiously.

"I am, sir," Kane assured him.

Jim gave him a wry smile. "I was, too."

Liz bopped Jim on the head as she passed by. "See you later. Uh, have fun." She stopped for a moment, looking at Kane quizzically. "Can I see your shoulder for a sec?" she asked, pointing at his right.

"Liz-"

"Yes, ma'am." Kane pulled the neck of his shirt down, exposing the scar there.

She brushed her fingertips against it, gentler than he'd thought she would be. "Does it hurt?"

"Only sometimes, ma'am, when I strain my shoulder too much. But usually not. I've always had it," he reported.

Liz tapped the scar. "I did that." She stepped back.

"Oh." Kane had been told it was a bullet wound. This woman had shot him? Why? Was she going to do it again? His mind raced with fear.

"I don't regret doing it. But I'm sorry it still hurts." Liz nodded at him before leaving the apartment.

Jim shook his head. "She's too much." He stood up. "Let's go to the kitchen. I'll make your favorite. 'Cept I can't get the fancy stuff like you used to get, but I hope you like it anyway."

Food. Kane was going to be allowed a meal, that was what Jim had said, instead of just the scraps. "Thank you so much, sir."

"No problem." Jim led him to the kitchen and indicated for Kane to sit as he started preparing food. It felt wrong. Kane was the pet, he was supposed to be doing the chores. But Jim said he wasn't supposed to yet, so he didn't.

"Any other questions?" Jim asked as he worked.

"What are the rules?" Kane ventured, trying to suppress a shudder as Jim picked up the knife. But he didn't come at Kane with it, he just started peeling a potato.

"Don't hurt anyone or destroy other people's stuff on purpose. Don't go tattling to WRU, obviously. Pretty much as long as you're not hurting anyone, no one's gonna have an issue with you. No discipline. You don't have to be scared of messing up. And you're allowed to want stuff."

It sounded far too good to be true. "Okay," he said, a bit choked up with emotion. "Please let me know if it's rude to ask, but when- when you first got away, was it easy for you, sir?"

Jim paused for a moment, then continued. Kane tensed, worried he'd offended his... new master? But Jim just kept talking. "It wasn't. I was all messed up. I was happy to be out, but I had no idea how to be my own person. And shit was... complicated with Liz. She kept expecting me to be someone I wasn't anymore. And I missed- my master, sometimes. He wasn't good to me, but he was everything I knew. And there were good times too, mixed in with the bad. So it made everything real complicated. But it all worked out eventually. I'm... actually happy now. I'm not the guy I was before, but I'm better." He smiled at Kane.

Kane didn't think he would ever miss his master. There weren't good times too. It was just pain and fear. "I'm glad you're happy now, sir."

"Me, too."

As Jim cooked, it was hard for Kane to restrain himself. When he cooked, he made use of everything he had. Potato peels that he would have eaten raw as he worked were dumped in the trash. He wondered if he would get in trouble for digging those out later. It wasn't against the rules, as far as Jim's description of them went.

At last, dinner was ready. Jim brought over two plates, piled high with food, and set one in front of Kane. He could hardly believe it.

"This is all for me?" he asked, just to make sure.

Jim's eyes fixated on him, watching intently for his reaction. "Yep, dig in."

Kane cut off a bite of meat, practically melting at its delicious taste. It was more than that- it tasted... familiar, somehow.

"Do you like it?" Jim prompted, an anxious look in his eyes that Kane knew all too well in his own. Seeking approval.

"It's the best thing I've ever tasted," he said emphatically.

Jim beamed, picking up his own fork. "I'm glad."

Kane had never eaten this much at once in his life. Everything was so good, better than anything he'd ever been able to make. When he'd finished his plat, he felt full for once, full with food he was allowed to have. It was the best feeling in the world.

"I- I'm sorry if I've wronged you," Kane said. "I didn't know. Thank you for helping me anyway."

Jim stared at him with an unreadable expression. "Oh." He shook his head. "Yeah, I mean, yeah. 'Course. You're pretty much not even the same guy."

A sneaking suspicion had been creeping up on Kane, and he was growing more and more certain of it by the minute, no matter how much he hoped it wasn't true. "Was I...?" He touched his own collar.

Jim glanced away. "Yeah."

Mine did, too. Jim said his master hit him, too. Had Kane been just like Master, but to Jim? Was that why Jim was so anxious for his approval? That's who he was before, that was Kane de Sang?

"I'm sorry," he said again, now feeling the weight of what he'd done. "You didn't deserve that. You're so kind."

Jim wiped at the tears starting to form in his eyes. "Thanks. I never thought I'd- thanks."

"Sir?" he asked, since this seemed to be going well. "You said I was... allowed to want things?"

"Yeah. You're allowed," Jim confirmed.

"I don't think I want to be Kane de Sang anymore."

in canon, liz has a good-sized 3-bedroom house, because housing by the vampire territory border is dirt cheap since no one wants to live there. in a world without vampires, i am whisking their comfortable house away. apartment be upon ye

and that's the final part of this AU miniseries! hope you enjoyed!

taglist in reblog!

#kane and jim au #kane and jim bbu #whump #bbucommunity #day13 #safety #bbu #my writing #pet whump #rescue #recovery whump #caretaking #whumper turned whumpee #starvation #whump writing

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dumb-gay-shipping · 2 months

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For fem slash February I had to do winx bloom and Stella classic of course. The prompt for day 13 was goddess. They feel very sun and fire to the moon and sea to me.

#femslash #femslashfeb2024 #minifemslashfeb2024 #bloomxstella #winx club #winx bloom #winx stella #goddess #day13

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maracujatangerine · 11 months

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77. Safety

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

White planes sped up on the tarmac outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, faster and faster until they rose up into the cerulean sky.

Brutus ignored them. If one of the pilots would lose control his Master might die, but that was a threat that was beyond his control. Focus on the threat that you can affect.

Instead, he let his dark eyes sweep over the crowd inside the airport. Walking half a step behind his Master’s left shoulder, Brutus saw passers-by swerve to avoid crossing their path, idle glances snagging on his collar in curiosity or apprehension.

This was normal, the way that young, bespectacled father pulled his small daughter aside, the way the two elderly ladies in hijabs took a few steps back, the wave of attention rippling through the crowd as they passed. This was, in a way, what his Master had paid the WRU for.

What Brutus was looking for was something out of the ordinary, someone moving with unexpected purpose, someone running or throwing or standing still in just the wrong way. The state of hypervigilance felt almost like meditation, a singular focus that absorbed all thought.

This time, it was not needed. No threat appeared. After an uneventful taxi ride through bustling streets they arrived at a double suite on the fifteenth floor. After taking a quick shower, the pet’s Master told the guard dog to stay.

“I won’t be needing you tonight.” Wayland Jones said, as he walked out the door.

Brutus did his exercise routine, sit-ups and push-ups and stretches. He also had a shower, in the second, smaller bathroom.

With his still damp hair curling around his face, Brutus sat down at the ebony desk and disassembled and cleaned his handgun with smooth, well-practiced precision.

A guard dog should be like a gun, his handler’s voice echoed in his mind, collected, calm, unmoving as long as the safety is on, but capable of tremendous violence if your owner releases the catch.

Reassembling the weapon, Brutus laid it to the side. He did feel twinges of concern at his Master being out and about alone, but Wayland Jones had ordered him to stay. Master knows best. Brutus tried to reassure himself.

The guard dog straightened out the room and drank some water in the bathroom to make his rumbling stomach quiet down. Then, finally, he turned off the lights and sat down in front of the large windows.

The night in the foreign city was filled with neon coloured signs for shops, restaurants and nightclubs. Dark shapes of trees swayed in the breeze. Windows in the buildings around left binary messages of alternating warm yellow or deep dark rectangles. Cars, motorbikes and buses crawled back and forth with their red and white lamps painting streaks of light.

Work was over. There was nothing more to be done. Brutus sat in the quiet, cool and dark hotel room and enjoyed the view.

This post is a part of the 2023 BBU Community Days organised by @bbu-on-the-side. This is my entry for day 13: Safety.

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#bbucommunity #pet whump #bbu #day13 #guard dog #box boy multiverse #box boy universe #whump fic #whump event #lydia and coriander #original writing

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nyamadermont · 7 days

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Learning the Truth

Angstpril 2024: Day 13 (715 words)

Eboshi stirred the meat in the skillet. The ginger she liked and the chilies Lin liked were at war with each other trying to knock her nose out of commission. She sighed and added some more cabbage.

Behind her, the lock clicked and Lin clomped noisily inside the apartment. She heard the thump of Lin’s disgusting metal briefcase she was always carrying but would not replace for something more befitting her station.

Eboshi grimaced at the food, hoping to use up her irritation before Lin came around the corner.

“I brought your post up from your box,” Lin announced from right behind her.

Eboshi startled, and the jerk of her wrist sent a slice of carrot flying straight at Lin’s face.

She snickered at the sight before she could control herself.

Lin glowered and flicked the offending vegetable into the sink.

“I’m going to clean my face and put this away,” she growled, brandishing the post. She spun on her heel and was gone before Eboshi could draw breath to apologize.

The bowls were on the table, and she was pouring tea when Lin came striding back in her sleeveless undershirt and trousers. Her fall into her chair and her grunt of release were uncontrolled and undignified. Eboshi turned around before her curled lip was visible. She returned with two glasses of water. Lin took hers from Eboshi’s hand and tossed it back like a shot of whiskey. She stood and refilled the glass at the sink.

Eboshi closed her eyes and settled as quietly into her own seat as she could.

She was always amazed at how fast Lin ate in private. Out in public at a restaurant, she ate as if she were being judged in a competition on traditional Earth Kingdom manners. But at home or in Eboshi’s apartment, Lin ate as if the food would vanish. Once, she had tried to say it was a habit picked up at work, when a break or stakeout could be cut short at a moment’s notice. But something told her it was an older habit, one developed at home.

A home she never discussed. Eboshi had learned that Lin did not know her father, hadn’t seen her mother in decades, and she just stopped there.

Eboshi was tasked with learning the truth about Lin, but it was so very hard to come by.

Lin finished her dinner and cleaned her own dishes, putting them away properly. She poured two glasses of bijou, and sat down more gently. She slid one glass in front of Eboshi, but just stared into her own.

Primly, Eboshi ate her rice and meat, taking her time.

Lin simply stared into her glass.

Eboshi laid her chopsticks across her empty bowl and finished the last of her water. Lin stood and collected the dirty dishes. She washed and put everything away, just as she had earlier.

When she returned to the table, she extended a hand to Eboshi, who took it, looking up in confusion.

“Let’s sit on the balcony, if that’s alright.”

They used their free hands to collect their drinks, then stepped out to the balcony, where they took up their accustomed seats on the bench.

They sipped in silence for a while before Lin asked, “Remind me why you’re getting personal post from Zaofu.”

Eboshi’s breath caught in her throat.

“I thought I’d told you about living with an aunt there for a while. It’s just a letter.”

Lin said nothing.

“Is there a problem, Lin? It’s just a letter from my aunt.”

The silence stretched again.

“I don’t like Zaofu. I don’t trust them.”

Eboshi furrowed her brow. “Then I won’t ask you to come with me when I go to see her in a few weeks.”

Lin knocked back the rest of her drink. “It’s nothing personal, but I’ll never set foot in that city.”

Their night ended soon after, but they did not even kiss goodnight.

In the morning, Lin was gone as if she had never been there.

Eboshi stepped into her workshop to find the post stacked on her desk, except for one envelope.

It was set aside, top-most on a line of similar envelopes, all neatly sequenced by date.

Her blood ran cold.

How close is she to learning the truth?

#angstpril2024 #angstpril 2024 #avatar the legend of korra #legend of korra #fanfiction #day13 #learning the truth #lin beifong #Red Jade

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the-little-moment · 14 days

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Angstpril Day 13: Enough for a Squad

Prompt: Learning the Truth

Words: 800

Summary: Mayday learns about Crosshair's other brothers.

The sound of the back door opening made Mayday look up from the pile of dusty paving stones he was shifting. He’d finally run out of things to do in the doctor’s small house, and he’d never been good at holding still.

“How’s it going?” Senna asked, joining the commander on the patio.

“Ahh,” Mayday stood and bent backwards to try to uncrimp his vertebrae, “can’t complain. At least it’s nice and warm out here.” He turned to grin at her chuckle. The doctor was holding out a glass of water.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

“Hey, thanks.” Mayday took it gratefully, trying to remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to offer him something. He and his brothers at the outpost had taken care of each other without thinking, but that kindness was tinged by the necessity of survival. The water on Coruscant had been recycled for so many millennia that the taste of chemicals was undeniable, but something about this glass that had been poured by a friend seemed sweeter.

When Senna took a seat on the patio wall, Mayday joined her. “How was work?”

“Well,” she laughed sadly, “I wish I could say I didn’t have complaints, but it’s been pretty bad lately.”

Mayday offered a well-practiced sound of sympathy. “Don’t suppose there’s anything Crosshair and I can help with?”

“Not unless you can figure out how to get my medics back, restore my budget, and get my supervisor off my back.”

“Sorry, Doc. I’m afraid my skills are more limited to armed intervention.”

Senna grinned down at her lap. “There are some people I’d like to try that on, myself.”

When her pensive look returned, Mayday felt the familiar tug of frustration. After all that time on Barton-4, he should be plenty used to helplessness, but the desperate desire to capture some kind of control over his life remained, and being trapped in this house, nice as it was, day in and day out with Crosshair, while the doctor worked her dangerous job under the watchful eye of the Empire, wasn’t exactly helping.

“I saw you put up that picture. The one I drew of Crosshair and his brothers.” Senna turned to give the commander a wistful smile. “Thanks.”

“Ah, no problem. He…got real quiet when we found that." Mayday shrugged. "Y’know, more than usual.”

“Yeah, I know.” The doctor fidgeted with the sleeve of her sweater. “Things used to be better. For a while, anyway. Before that…” She sighed. “Has he told you anything about…the others?”

“You mean, his squad?”

“No. Not them. The other Ninety-Nines.”

As Mayday watched, Senna looked up from her hands, out across the walled garden, but she seemed to be seeing something much farther away than the nodding flowers – something that was gone, maybe for a long time now.

“He hasn’t, no.” There wasn't a lot the reticent sniper had told him, really, despite all the time they'd been spending together. Cleaning the doctor's house the other day was the most time they'd spent on a shared activity that wasn't wilderness survival.

The doctor sighed again, and, for such a soft sound, Mayday felt it like the blade of a knife, pressed like a threat against his skin.

“...In the beginning, there were more of them. Defective embryos gathered from different batches. They were usually destroyed as soon as they were discovered, but one of the scientists had proposed a new project, one where units with…acceptable defects, ones that had potential for enhancement, would be developed, in an attempt to make a new type of soldier.”

“Like Crosshair.”

“Like Crosshair. The experimentation was…difficult. Many of them didn’t make it past the early stages. The others… There was one week where we lost a child every day. There were a lot of different things the Kaminoans tried. Not all of them were viable. In the end, it was only the four of them left.”

The misery in the doctor’s voice took Mayday back to that place – to the rows of hard hospital beds and the constant, heavy threat of decommissioning. The other clones had heard whispers of what the scientists did in their restricted labs, but hearing about it now, from someone who had watched it happen... Maybe that explained why Crosshair was the way he was.

“You know what they told me? After it was all over. Once we were,” she choked out a laugh, “reasonably sure that Crosshair and his brothers would survive.”

Mayday shook his head. He didn’t want to.

Senna told him anyway, almost whispering, and the words were so hollow, he understood why she couldn’t forget.

“‘While it is regrettable that the other Batch Ninety-Nine units did not survive to maturity, four is enough for a squad.’”

This Angstpril entry is part of a larger story I'm currently working on.

Thanks to everyone who's still following along on Day 13! As always, all the angst for this month can be found on @kybercrystals94, @just-here-with-my-thoughts, and my blog.

Taglist: @lightwise @clonethirstingisreal @freesia-writes

#star wars the bad batch #clone force 99 #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb crosshair #dr divehdi #star wars oc #the bad batch #commander mayday #angstpril2024 #day13 #learning the truth #fanfiction #littlekyberthoughts #the little moment writes

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black-opal-001 · 14 days

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@trigun98watchparty

In day 13 we have: "Drawing Vash is fun" "i don't like recaps ep that much" and "Fuck that, have Emo Vash":

So, here we go, as i said drawing Vash is fun! His hair and ouffit are a fun chalenge to do, and he is helping me learn male anatomy, thanks for that Mr.Stampede!

I gonna be honest, i don't like ep 13 that much, because i don't like recaps that much, but the final scene got me to laught, i cant deny that.

EMO VASH:

Reference/inspiration:

I saw that on pinterest, and i was like "oh yeah, he would definely wear that... I quess..."

#tri98watchparty #Day13 #trigun 98 #i gonna draw him even more emo in the future #you cant stop me

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kadiwright · 2 months

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Day 13: Perfume

Prompt belongs to KatiAmel

Rouge The Bat (C) SEGA

Art (C) @kadiwright

#romanticuary2024 #katisromanticuaryprompt #day13 #perfume #rouge the bat #digitalart #traditional art #myart #artist on tumblr

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tragedyinblue · 11 months

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BBU Community Days, #13

@bbu-on-the-side

{Day 13} Safety

The follow up to part 5. Have a little comfort, folks. (with a bit more emotional whump first)

CW: "it" as a pronoun, institutionalized slavery, PTSD response, reference to potential abuse, fear of abandonment, mention of homelessness

——————————————————

6. Just the Box

They’d planned to visit a few more of Ms. Abbie’s usual haunts, but when the forecasted rainstorm arrived two hours early, they discovered her umbrella was only large enough for one. By the time they made it back, Chase was soaked to the skin.

“Go on up and get changed,” she ordered, grocery bags dripping in her grip. “I’ll put this stuff away and get a kettle going.”

The pet obeyed, scampering up the steps. Although it shivered as the fabric peeled away from its clammy skin, its chattering teeth beamed with pride. It’d insisted that Ms. Abbie use the umbrella. A lesser Pet might’ve given in to her request and let her share it, but because Chase didn’t, she was safe, healthy, and dry. It had done well.

Eventually Chase padded downstairs, warm again in a soft, faded red shirt—long sleeve—and a pair of gray sweatpants with “ARMY” printed down one thigh in big, blocky letters. Ms. Abbie said that her late husband’s clothes belonged to Pet now, but it didn’t entertain such a strange idea. After all, Pets did not own anything.

Its mistress called out from the kitchen. “Hello?”

Chase’s stomach dropped as the self-satisfaction it felt a moment before vanished in an instant. Had she been calling for it this whole time?

‘How deplorable.’

The pet raced to the kitchen, skidding to a halt and kneeling just beyond the threshold, head bowed. “Yes, Ms. Abbie?”

Instead of the glowering expression it expected to find, her back was turned away from it, a cordless phone pinched between her ear and shoulder as her wrinkled hands busied themselves at the stove. She hadn’t heard Chase at all.

“Hi Jeffrey! So nice to hear your voice. How’s the family?... Good, glad to hear it! Listen, I’m calling to request a pickup for a large item, please,” she said, pausing while the man spoke indistinctly on the other end. “No, not a donation this time. It was delivered to me a few days ago and I just want it out of my house. When can you… Tomorrow morning?”

Chase had crawled backward out of the kitchen before it realized it’d even moved, its mind finally catching up to what its body already knew: it was going back to the facility.

Voices cracked like whips in its ears as its breathing quickened to shallow pants. What right did it have to be upset? It only had itself to blame for mistaking Ms. Abbie’s generosity for acceptance. She hadn’t wanted anything to do with it in the first place; of course she was going to send it back! Thinking otherwise was just a fantasy it’d been stupid enough to believe.

It wouldn’t matter if any of that was noted in its file. The bottom line was simple: C47 failed to serve its mistress properly… and bad things happened to Pets that failed.

When the kettle’s shrill whistle broke the pet’s trance, its eyes found the open wooden box jutting out from the other side of the wall, looking completely harmless. Inviting, almost. Perhaps Ms. Abbie would order it to sleep there tonight in preparation for shipment. It shivered, a whine escaping its throat as a forbidden thought flitted through its mind: it would have liked to sleep in the soft bed upstairs one more time.

——————————————————-

“Tomorrow morning?” Abigail repeated with surprise, nearly spilling the scoop of pale brown powder in her hand. “So soon?”

Jeffrey laughed kindly. “For you? Absolutely. We can have a crew there at 8am to get rid of that box.”

Abigail squinted at the calendar on the other side of the small kitchen as the kettle pitched from sizzle to screech. “I… Yes, I think that will work! Thank you, dear!” she yelled before ending the call.

Her hands trembled only slightly as she prepared two mugs of Ovaltine and a plate of crackers with a wistful sigh. The last time she’d made two servings at once George was still alive. It warmed her heart to do it again.

“Chase, dear?” she called over the slight lump in her throat. “Soup’s on. Come and get it.”

Instead of the hurried footsteps she’d come to expect—the sound strangely reminiscent of soldiers scrambling to attention—Chase shuffled into the kitchen, his expression haunted. Abigail recognized that look.

Her old instincts kicked in, assessing him for injuries, though she guessed she wouldn’t find any fresh ones. Something had changed within the last fifteen minutes. She just didn’t know what.

“Are you alright?” she probed, setting the steaming mugs onto the table.

The boy’s mouth twisted in a rictus. “Yes, Mistress Abbie. It’s well and g-grateful for your concern.”

Damn. He was still partially elsewhere, but she could work with that. “Let’s take a few breaths. Can you do that with me?”

“Y-Yes, Ms. Abbie.”

In stuttered rhythm, his chest expanded and shrunk mechanically with hers until it had mostly evened out.

“Good, Chase. Very good,” she praised.

He blinked rapidly at that, most of the remaining haze seeming to clear. That was a good sign, if disconcerting.

“I’m going to sit down at the table now,” Abigail said. “Please join me. There is a hot drink waiting for you when you’re ready.”

Abigail sipped hers quietly, closing her eyes as the liquid soothed her from the inside out. When she opened them, Chase was sitting beside her, fingers wrapped tightly around his mug.

“Welcome back, dear.”

His gaze flicked up to meet hers guiltily. “This pet is sorry for being so troublesome, Ms. Abbie. It should have been taking care of you, not the other way around. P-Please punish it as you see fit.”

Abigail scoffed, hating the way it made him flinch.

“Nonsense,” she said softly. “I’ve seen young men like you react similarly. It’s nothing you can control. Just… if you’re feeling fine enough later I’d like to know what prompted your reaction so we can avoid it.”

His eyes flicked from his drink to the open archway so quickly she almost missed it. Following his line of sight, she spied the WRU crate at the end of the hall. Hmm.

“It’ll be nice to have that ugly box gone. Some friends of mine are coming tomorrow to get it,” she said, focusing on his reaction rather than the fact that she no longer remembered what time Jeffrey’s crew would arrive. “If you’d rather keep it I’ll ask them to move it elsewhere instead.”

Chase’s brows furrowed. “Just the box, Ms. Abbie?” he asked slowly.

“I’m sorry?”

He gulped before trying again, his voice hoarse. “You’re only getting rid of the box?”

Oh.

The idea that she could throw someone away was so appalling that it hadn’t even crossed Abigail’s mind, though she knew it wasn’t completely uncommon; she’d seen more than a few strays huddled in alleys over the years. It was all too easy to imagine Chase among them.

Schooling her expression like the nurse she was, Abigail smiled, leaning forward to pat Chase’s shaking hand.

“Yes, dear. Just the box.”

Taglist: @maracujatangerine @octopus-reactivated @dislexiher @whumpzone

Ping me or reply if you'd like to be added to the taglist. I'd rather know for sure than add folks who reblog. Thank you! 💙

#bbu #bbucd #bbu community #whump event #day13 #inheritance-story

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