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comfy-whumpee · 8 months

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Echoes

Whumptober Day 10 - "You said you'd never leave me." CN: referenced domestic violence, minor whump.

Jax taglist: @bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @burtlederp, @rosesareviolentlyread, @eatyourdamnpears

Savvie, Izzy and Jamie belong to @ashintheairlikesnow.

She says, “You said you’d never leave me.”

She is staring at him from across the metal table. The inmate jumpsuit is a good look on her, he can’t deny, and he likes seeing her hands cuffed to the table too, unable to grab or touch him anywhere at all. Her nails are short and round and unpainted, which he has never seen before.

She says, “You’re mine, Jax.” She has tied her hair back from her face and it makes her look more her age. He looks older than her, has for years, because of how they have lived. But now, she looks as haggard as he feels, without the makeup he is used to seeing on her.

He doesn’t have an answer for her demand. He remembers promising many times that he wouldn’t leave her. He’d never betray her. He couldn’t. That always satisfied her well enough.

Of course, the moment he could, that all became moot. But he’d said all the right promises without worrying about that. Looking to the future was never his strong suit, anyway.

“I thought you loved us,” Savvie continues. She doesn’t need him to reply. “I thought you cared about us, as a family, Jax. But you just wanted to hurt us.”

Jax thinks about her nearly dropping Jamie when he spit up on her shirt. He thinks about Izzy coming into the kitchen white as a sheet from one of her ‘talks’. He thinks about how sound carries in her old house, and how both kids have heard his screams.

“My poor babies.” Savvie is a one-woman show of grief. Her eyes glitter with crystalline tears, but they don't leave him, watching for his reaction. “You can’t take them from me. They’re mine, Jax. I’ll fight for them. I just need to see them again, to make sure they understand what’s happening, to make sure they know why you decided to break up our family.”

“You did that, Savvie,” he interjects. “You did that every time you took me away from them.”

“You never wanted them,” she replies dismissively, trying and failing to gesture with a rattle of chain. “You just wanted to lecture me about them. It’s thanks to me they even exist.”

That is all true. But none of it matters. It stopped mattering as soon as there became real children involved. He couldn’t just abandon a baby to her.

“You’ve ruined our family,” she adds. She’s been refuelled by his words. He needs to stay quiet. “It will never, ever be the same, after what you’ve done. I hope you’re happy, Jax. I’ll never be happy again.”

His mouth is already open to speak, to retort, when she adds the rest. But it only becomes more true. “Here’s hoping.”

“Daddy,” she sniffles, arms tight around his waist. Her face is pressed into his stomach and he strokes her hair gently. “I’m sorry, daddy,” she hiccups. “Please d-don’t go without me an’ Jamie, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you two,” he promises. He gently loosens her arms, but keeps hold of her hands as he drops stiffly to one knee. He meets her wide, tear-filled eyes. “Hey. I said I’d never leave you two, didn’t I?”

She stares at him, full of fear. He should have seen it coming, of course. He can’t talk about a holiday without reminding her of Savvie’s version of a weekend getaway: kids abandoned with zero warning, sudden trips to the airport while they were still asleep, Jax dragged along on half-baked promises that Isaac would send someone.

“I want to go on holiday with you both,” he promises her. Her little hands are gripping his back, her fingers soft and warm against his callouses. “That’s what holidays are like now. I will never run away on holiday without you, especially not if you are sleeping.”

“Never ever?” she asks, her gaze so afraid and so desperately trusting.

The weight of his words feels so heavy, knowing she will hold onto them tightly, repeating them over and over to herself. How to pick words that will comfort her through all their uses?

He starts with the fundamentals. “Family is me, you and Jamie.” No Mommy. No Savvie. Not even grandpa makes the cut, at the end of the day. With this established, he adds, “Family holiday has to be me, you and Jamie too.”

She leans forwards, asking for a hug in that careful way she has with touch. Touch with him, anyway. She isn’t this cautious with the others.

He hugs her close. “Never, ever,” he repeats. Sometimes he likes to imagine how long he could go without un-hugging his baby girl. He could sleep with her in his arms again. He can eat with her on his lap. Walk the dogs with her in his arms. He could keep hold of her forever.

Of course, it’s just an instinct. He lets her go. “And,” he adds, to lift her spirits, “you get a say in where we go on holiday, now. We choose together.”

She doesn’t care as long as she’s with him, he knows. It’s the same for him. But maybe, with some time, he can get her excited for the holiday, and give her back some of the joy she never had.

Here’s hoping.

#whumptober2023 #no.10 #you said you'd never leave me #whump #past trauma #comfort #recovery #minor whump #abandonded #jax

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wangxianficfinder · 1 year

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Fic finder

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1. Hello! Me again, thanks so much for the past help!! I was wondering if you’d help me one more time? I’ve been searching for another specific fic for the last three weeks and no matter the tag combos I can’t seem to find it. Essentially: it’s a one-shot where WWX is having a sort of flashback into being at the burial mounds and hallucinating lan Wanji and Jiang cheng speaking to him. He reveals some things about the three months in the BM, but in the end it turns out he wasn’t actually at there and they where trying to get him out of being influenced by resentful energy. Also lan suzhi is there at the end to help too. If you could help that’d be amazing! @spacy-thoughts

FOUND! warmth by antebunny (T, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Heavy Angst, lots of mentions of dark stuff, the burial mounds as a sentient evil mountain, Temporary Amnesia, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, lots of trash fire angst, Mistaken Identity, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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2. Hello I am looking for a specific fic where WWX and LWJ get into a fight. WWX comes back from needing some to find LWJ crying because he thought they were done after the fight. The rest of the fic is them making up after the fight. I hope I gave you enough info to go on.

It’s Post cannon, hurt/comfort and not in modern setting. Sorry for the vague description.

NOT FOUND! this is me trying by queen_gee (T, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sad with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship)

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3. Hello!!! For the next fic finder please help me find this two fics:

A) A fix it au in which JFM and YZY has a steady relationship, all I remember is a scene where when the wens(?) attacked Lotus Pier madam yu was preggo and gave birth in the middle of it. I think Bicao or SiSi was the one who helped her gave birth.

B) An au from a k-drama that I forgot the title of in which wwx(not him but I aint gonna spoil) accidentally run over a pregnant mxy that ended up in the death of him and the baby, lwj was the baby daddy and decided to have his revenge.

Thankiee~

-♥️-

3A)

FOUND! Yearning for Miles by Murahi (M, 378k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, Mutual Pining, seeing the future)

3B)

FOUND! Lie for Love by sether1n3 (E, 69k, WIP, WangXian, WangYu, implied LWJ/Others & WWX/Others, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, endgame wangxian, Mpreg, NOT OMEGAVERSE, hit and run, WWX Goes to Prison, Hurt WWX, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Depressed WWX, Panic Attacks, Bisexual WWX, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lawyer JC, Not JC Friendly, Bad Sibling JC, Violence, Insecurity, Body Dysphoria, forced seperation, Attempted Sexual Assault, Revenge, Blackmail, Artist WWX, Court, Rich LWJ, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Secret (2013) AU, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn)

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4. hi! i’m looking for a specific fic on A03; it is a casefic and has got to do with the jin watchtowers, specifically this one by the sea which is haunted by the woman ****SPOILER START**** whose husband was killed by the contractor (for demanding worker rights) and LWJ falls into the sea trying to stop WWX from getting killed, and gets very hurt in the process ****SPOILER END***. It has a lot of sea imagery, and involves all the juniors +JC. @thatficwheretheprotagisadog

FOUND? And I Will Call You Home by Spodumene (E, 42k, WangXian, Case Fic, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Ghosts, Suicide, Explicit Sexual Content, Attempted Sexual Assault, LWJ whump, Original Character Death(s))

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5. hello! I wasn’t sure if this has been asked, and I did try looking but sorry if I missed it! I’m looking for a fic that was a modern setting, wangxian friends with benefits, only it was more like enemies with benefits bc lan zhan was dead set on not catching feelings for him and he hated that he was starting to. i remember that it opened on a sex scene but that was as far as I got! please help!!!

FOUND? Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You're an Asshole) by piecrust (E, 22k, WangXian, Porn with feelings, College/University)

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6. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian wakes up in Lotus Pier after being injured on a nighthunt (?) that he went on with Lan Wangji and he finds out from Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli that Lan Wangji has died.

However, we later on find out that Lan Wangji is not actually dead but instead someone sent false letters to Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen. The letter Jiang Cheng received had said that Lan Wangji had died and the letter Lan Xichen had received had said that Wei Wuxian had died. So somebody purposefully made Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji think that the other was dead.

I believe there was also a part in the fic where some guy at Lotus Pier kept calling Wei Wuxian 'Wei Ying' and Wei Wuxian kept telling him to stop because only Lan Wangji was allowed to call him that but the guy did it again and Wei Wuxian snapped.

Thank you for your help!

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7. I’m looking for a similar story to one somebody asked two fic finders ago but this one has a little twist

Is a fic where JC managed to wish WWX out of existence (I think it was with an array) and JC and LWJ are the only ones who remember WWX, LWJ tries to confront JC about it but JC won’t tell him how he did it, things happen (I think SSC) and JC needs WWX again, so he asks LWJ to help him bring Wei Ying back, they bring him back and so the story continues

FOUND? The Way It Wasn't by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

FOUND? Not This Time by Marinelifeclub (M, 93k, WIP, WangXian, SangNing, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Angst, Dark LWJ, Protective LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Resentful WWX, Established Relationship, POV Alternating, Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Minor XuanLi, not for jc fans, eventual 3zun, Kid Fic)

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8. I am absolutely boggled trying to find this fic that I *thought* I'd downloaded onto my reader. Was reminded of it recently by another user who was looking. Basically, it's a modern wangxian AU, where WWX reappears after X time gone/cloud hanging over his head bc of something ppl thought he causes and the Jiang sibs who are some sort of celebs (models? actors?) help him (as does LWJ.) I remember a pool scene where all were hanging out & performing normalcy while press were milling about. @thelima

FOUND! so hot out the box (can we pick up the pace) by sami (E, 20k, XiCheng, WangXian, NHS/JZX, QingLi, Modern AU, Enemies to Lovers, Thirsting, Pining, mostly thirst and dick jokes, a little smut)

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9. Hola! Hope you guys are doing well. This request is for the FicFinder.

I don't remember much, but I think WWX was a Lan probably? There was a scene that I remember: during a lecture in Hanshi, LQR was talking about always being prepared or something like that. It was a topic on talismans I think? So Jin Zixun or someone like that said something about talisman being cheap trick and as cultivators, they don't have much use of it or something? Then LQR asked WWX to show how many talisman he carries on him normally (like everytime everywhere) and the later pulls out bundles after bundles of talisman. Then he's says something like : this is the normal I carry with me every moment. If it's a night hunt, I carry much more than this. @utxqia

FOUND! From the Warm Sun by sunshine_sparrow (T, 58k, WangXian, CSSR & WWX, CSSR & LQR, Discussion of Rape, Period-Typical Sexism, Mostly CQL but probably some MDZS too, Cángsè Sǎnrén Lives, Madam Lán Lives, Qingheng-jun lives, But WCZ Still Dies, Fix-It, Happy Ending, All Soft and Very Little Angst, the wens live, Yīn Iron, Good Person MY, Good Person LQR)

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10. I’m looking for a dimension travel fix where Wei Wuxian is a doctor/engineer in his OG modern dimension but his life goes downhill. He gets transported into a dimension a lot like MDZS time, where cultivation exists and the old Wei Whxian was evil and despised. He doesn’t know Lan Wangji, but over time they fall in love. It’s kind of a time-travel/fix-it in one.

FOUND? Transverse by Kytrin, Mslead (E, 192k, WangXian, ChengSang, ZhuiLing, ZhenYi, Canon-Typical Violence, Dimension Travel, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Enemies to Lovers, Transmigration, Past Lives, Canon-Typical Death, Don't worry - he gets better) although im not 100% on that since i havent read it, i just scrolled through the "dimension travel" tag for a few minutes lol

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11. hello, my lieges. once again, i am looking for this fic where wwx rates sex toys and lwj sends him a lot and he's the only one who got five stars. thank you kindly

FOUND! This Ain’t a Stream (It’s a Goddamn Arms Race) by feenwitch (E, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Pornstars)

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12. I remember a fic, where post war LWJ is struggling and is accompanied by a a friendly Ghost (aka WWX) or something like that. I’m not exactly sure, but i still know that WWX was dead and LWJ still saw him.

FOUND? asymptotic by chinxe (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Pining)

FOUND? The Cruelty of Fate by Procrastination_Sensation (T, 15k, WangXian, Canonical Character Death, Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor NieLan) Or Asymptotic like the previous recs say, though I'd personally lean for asymptotic, since wwx is described as a friendly ghost

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13. Hello! I need help finding a Wangxian fic. It was kinda post cannon and in it A-Yuan got cursed if I’m right and was turned into a toddler. He spend a week like that and Wei Wuxian gets his chance at seeing Yuan being a happy child. That’s all I can remember, any help would be appreciated @casslastheaven

FOUND? The Heart Always Remembers by thelamespaceace (G, 45k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Deaged Sizhui, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Angst, They Love Their Son and He Loves Them)

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14. Hi, can you please find the fics that I think at that time I read at AO3.. I'm not remembering much, only the fact that Wei Wuxian already gave his golden core to Jiang Wanyin, and later Nie Mingjue give Wei Wuxian his Saber, Baxia. Since Wei wuxian can actually control Baxia without qi deviation. I've been searching for months now.

FOUND? Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo)

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15. For the next fic finder, I’m looking for a fic that’s set from a Lan Xichen POV. It’s A/B/O, and he goes to get some paperwork from the Jingshi, only to find a naked omega in his brother’s bed, (Wei Wuxian, though LXC doesn’t know who he is because the author heavily implies this is outsider pov of a time travel fixit) then LWJ comes back. LWJ growls for the first time in LXC’s hearing, who comes to the abrupt realization his brother is terrifying & just didn’t care about growling previously @any-mouse

FOUND! 💖 Disruptions by mondengel (logged in only) (M, 3k, wangxian, ABO, mating cycles/in heat)

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16. Hi! Could you help me finding this fic? In this fic, a-yuan is sick and wen qing said that only cultivation gentry have resource to heal a-yuan. So wwx walk to cloud recesses to beg them heal a-yuan. Lwj meets them (wwx and a-yuan) and he take care wwx while wwx take care of a-yuan. Long story short a-yuan is healthy again and wwx ask lqr and lxc for them to adopt a-yuan but his request refused and instead the lans bring the wen remnant to cloud recesses

There is a quote that make want to read it again. More or less it was like this "in the absence of hanguang-jun, he (a-yuan) is my light".

I have a feeling that fic has been deleted. But i still hold a hope for the reverse. Thank you

FOUND! the kite string and the anchor rope by fleurdeliser (M, 38k, WangXian, Canon Divergence)

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17. Hello! 😊 Please will you help me find this fic? I have vague memories of it being AOB and WWX was at an omega training school(?) but he wasn't very good at it so never expected to be picked? Then LXC comes to find a match for his brother. There's a dance test that wwx messes up but I think LXC found it endearing? Then WWX played the dizi for the talent portion. Not sure if it was a WIP but the last thing I remember was WWX having a private chat with LXC in the school office.

FOUND? Rattling our cages by danegen (E, 69k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, but like polite, Slow Burn, Pining while fucking, so much hair combing, wwx has a vagina, POV WWX, no yin iron or wars or plot really, Canon Era, spiders--see the notes)

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18. Do you know an AU about wei ying being adopted by hualian and then if I can remember lan qiren, yu ziyuan, jiang fengmian, and others went to ghost city together with lan zhan and jiang cheng and then after they came back hualian tasked the other gods to remove their memories of their trip to the ghost city and only lan zhan fully remembers it because he was the so called wife of the prince wuxian?

Hello Fic Finder! In regards with the story that I was asking for help to find which is #42 on your list. I already know the title and author of it but it is already deleted. The title of the story is Crown Prince of Heaven and Ghost City by bluemoonstarlight if you have a copy of it can I ask for a copy because I badly want to read it.

SIMILAR! Crown Prince Hua Wuxian by Bluemoonstarlight (G, 19k, WIP, WangXian, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, JFM and YZY Bashing, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, JYL Lives, Cultivator JYL, Supportive JYL, Protective JYL, Good Sibling JC, Protective JC, HuaLian Adopt WWX, Canon Divergence, Fantasy, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Sunshot Campaign, Grandpa JW, Grandma MNQ, Abusive JFM, Abusive YZY, Grandma BSSR, BSSR is WWX's Grandparent, WWX is BSSR's Disciple) good news! Bluemoonstarlight has posted a revised version of that story under the title Crown Prince Hua Wuxian. (Whether the revision is to your liking is your call, but at least you’ve got *something*).

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19. Please help me find this fic.

Wangxian are soulmate or engaged i can't remember but wwx wear a mask all his life because there is a prophecy or something that he is supposed to remove after marrying lwj but lwj tell wwx that he should never remove it. Qingheng-Jun is alive and being creepy. Wangxian have a soul bond. Lwj act very distant towards wwx who keep trying to make their relationship work. There is war and wwx adopt twin son a-yuan and a-yi. Wwx returns to cr they pressure him into a ritual to remove resentful energy wwx asks lwj to do it. During ritual he start bleeding and is about to die. When he wake up after lxn scold him and accuse him of hurting lwj they kick him out and forbid him from seeing his children. He goes to yilling and take in mxy and xy. It's a ongoing and very angsty.

there is a scheming lan or jin woman who keep provoking wwx. Jin zixuan is lwj's best friend. There is some secret that everybody knows but don't tell wwx. @anee-choudhary

the-last-d-boy: i think #19 was a deleted story by wangxianist :/

imstillthinkingaboutithmm: #19 is price to pay by wangxianist. It is deleted.

I have a copy of the fic, if it is okay i can share it

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20. hello mods! i am looking for a canon divergence wangxian fic, where lan qiren is evil. he loathes wei ying and wants to hurt (kill?) wei ying. if i remember correctly, he traps wei ying in a room by acting as if he is cursed. wei ying tries to help him but instead he hurts wei ying. lan zhan finds out about what his uncle has done. in the end wangxian end up together and lan qiren is punished by being isolated. i read this fic around feb to march 2022. thank you in advance! :)

hello! i am number 20 in the Jan 26 2023 fic finder. thank you for these evil lan qiren fic details! yes that is the fic i am looking for! hope someone can help me find it :)

Ahh I know #20 on the most recent Fic Finder but I can't recall the name. iirc Lan Qiren lures Wei Wuxian to the Hanshi by saying Sizhui was in trouble. WWX sends LWJ an image of a butterfly, their symbol for LSZ, through their mental link. Hope this helps someone find it!

FOUND! And Be the Moon That Moves Your Tide by Milk_Tea_Fantasy (E, 17k, WangXian, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega LWJ, Alpha WWX, Panic Attacks, Pining, Weddings, Praise Kink, caretaking kink, Bathing/Washing, Subspace, Bottom LWJ, Submissive LWJ, Service top WWX, PTSD, Loss of Virginity, Porn with Feelings, Enthusiastic Consent, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Edging, Crying During Sex, soul bonds, angry wedding planner JC, Nesting, Non-Consensual Touching, it's not sexual don't worry, Intersex Omegas)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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whumpsday · 1 year

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(genuinely no hate whatsoever, i'm just curious) what makes it okay for minors as young as 11 to consume media/books involving drugs and violence and abuse, but when sexual themes come into it it's suddenly a problem? /gen /nm

I truly don't know how to ask this without it coming off as an attack,, i'm just extremely uneducated

(referencing)

i appreciate the tone tags!

eh, i feel it's just Different for minors to read my horror/whump writing vs having minors reading my sexual writing. the latter makes me viscerally uncomfortable so that's a boundary i personally set.

i actually do hope there AREN'T 11 year olds reading my gore writing tho lol... like i said i did start reading horror at 11, but man, i get really gory on here, way worse than the stuff i was reading at that age. i don't think i have followers younger than 15 tho, and i feel like if you're in high school you can probably decide for yourself if you're ready to read about kane getting vivisected or not. but i will keep my nsfw writing exclusively on the 18+ shelf. that's just my decision! i don't really have some involved reasoning, that's just where my comfort levels lie.

#ask

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nimata-beroya · 2 years

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Here is an app-friendly version of the masterlist for all my projects on the back burner. I'm actively working on some, while others will take more time.

My ask box is always open for anyone wanting to know the juicy details. Don't be shy and send me a question, anonymously or not 😉

[Updated Jan 2023]

[IDs in Alt text]

(My Original Clone squad) ~~ Playlist

Gundark Squad Info page

Individual Character Playlists

Onix

Dropper

Clawbird

Ares

Nock

INSURRECTION Series

The One To Survive (4.5k words so far) || Playlist || Sneak peeks

teen | tw canon-typical violence | 2 chapters of ? | whump, angst, referenced torture/human experimentation, PTSD, canon compatible

A new Separatist threat rises on the horizon, and the elite Gundark Squad is called to handle it. Their incursion into a suspicious facility comes with an unexpected discovery.

Casualty (0 words so far) || Playlist

teen | tw canon-typical violence | ~ 5 chapters | whump, angst, referenced torture/human experimentation, brainwashing, PTSD, canon compatible, Dogma returns

The Gundark Squad hasn't had much luck in their mission of searching and destroying more Separatist clandestine labs until now. They hit jackpot when they locate a facility hidden in the ancient ruins on Heffrin. Inside, they find another survivor, a brother of the 501st battalion that was thought to be lost forever. [Hint: It's not Echo]

The Edge Of Revolution (0 words so far) || Playlist

teen | tw canon-typical violence | ~ 20 chapters | whump, angst, season 6 canon divergence, Order 66 doesn't happen, Fives lives, Palps gets what he deserves

[Working summary] Gundark Squad gets involved in the inhibitor chips’ conspiracy, where they will try to help Fives to solve it.

Blue Phoenix [working title] (0 words so far) || Playlist

teen | tw canon-typical violence | ~ 5 chapters | whump, angst, referenced torture/human experimentation, PTSD, canon divergence, rescuing Echo

The mandatory fic of Fives rescuing Echo from Skako Minor after the war ends.

Warrior's Fortune ( 0 words so far) || playlist

Teen | TW canon-typical violence | ? chapters | post-finale, Ezra returns with Thrawn in tow, joining efforts against the Grysks, Kallus is not happy about it

Based on @flavasbog's idea in this post, of Thrawn recruiting the Ghost's Crew to fight against the Grysks where not Ezra or Hera but Zeb is the one who convinces everyone to accept.

The Betrothal (2348 words so far) || Playlist

Teen | TW Canon-typical violence | ~ 10 chapters | Arranged marriage, No Order 66, slavery, Zeb is still Honor Guard, Kallus was discharged from the Republic Army

The idea came to me as What would happen in a galaxy where Order 66 never happened and both Zeb's and Kallus' fathers were Senators and want to do an alliance through the marriage of their sons? [I'm inclined to set this story in the 'Insurrection' 'verse, just many years after the main 4 stories are told]

Succession (0 words so far) || playlist

Teen or Mature | TW Canon-typical violence | ? chapters | angst with a happy ending, AU, Royalty AU, King Zeb

Zeb was of the Lasan Royal Family, so far removed in the line of succession that he was sure he'd never sit on the throne, but then, the Empire came, Lasan fell, and now he's king. He hasn't told that to anyone in 15 years, though.

I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant (89 words so far)

Teen | No warnings | 1 or 2 chapters | MPreg, Fluff, Unplanned pregnancy, Established relationship

As the title suggests, it's based on a tv show of the same name. In this case, Zeb gets pregnant (neither he nor Kallus suspects a thing) and goes into labor just after the Battle of Endor.

A Reason to Fight (242 words so far)

Teen | TW canon-typical violence | one-shot | Whump, angst,comfort,found family, established relationship

Kallus is a pressure cooker ready to explode after a mission goes wrong where Zeb gets badly injured, so the Ghost crew needs to do something before the casualties double up.

More to come

The Sharpshooter's Prize (867 words so far)

Explicit [MINORS DNI] | TW Sexual content | One-shot | BDSM, Kink, Smut, Femdom, strap-on, losing a bet, anal play, Crosshair being a bratty shit 😏

You win a bet against Crosshair, so it's time to collect the prize. [It was once intended to be part of my SW X-tober Stravaganza 2k21 but I never finish it. Oops!]

On The Edge (0 words so far)

Explicit [MINORS DNI] | TW Sexual content | One-shot | Smut, kink, knife play

Hunter shows you his many talents with a vibroknife apart from killing, although he might take you to death regardless. Death by ecstasy doesn't sound bad to you. [It was once intended to be part of my SW X-tober Stravaganza 2k21 but I never wrote it. Oops!]

More to Come

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ao3feed-destiel-02 · 1 year

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growing sideways

growing sideways https://ift.tt/zU0DQwt by Jcampky Castiel is years past healing from a mental breakdown that landed him in the hospital for several months, until a certain green-eyed heartbreaker somehow strolls back into his life and starts to bleed into every aspect of Cas' life that apparently wasn't as stable as he thought. Dean's just looking for safety; relief from the oppressive weight of his depression when he stumbles across a kind and genuine college student who just doesn't want to feel lonely anymore. Sam wants more than the complicated relationship he has with his brother, but after years of abuse and misunderstandings he's afraid that he and Dean will never be able to move past the things that tore them apart in the first place. Gabe wasn't trying to make things difficult for Castiel, but unfortunately Cas has the worst taste in men and in his defense, Dean is nothing like what Gabe was picturing. Words: 4912, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Categories: M/M Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Gabriel (Supernatural), Lisa Braeden, Ben Braeden, Mick Davies, Bobby Singer, Karen Singer Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Other(s), Castiel/Mick Davies, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Mental Health Patient Castiel (Supernatural), Flashbacks, Castiel Has OCD (Supernatural), POV Alternating, Hurt Dean Winchester, Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, I think this qualifies as whump for everyone involved, Therapy, Abusive John Winchester, Dead John Winchester, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Dean Winchester, Panic Attacks, Child Abuse, Sam Winchester is Not a Winchester, Adoptive Parent Bobby Singer, Good Parent Bobby Singer, Construction Worker Dean Winchester, Protective Gabriel (Supernatural), Grief/Mourning, Consent Issues, Abuse Outside of Castiel/Dean Winchester, Mental Breakdown, Second Chances, Cheating, It's Not Cut and Dry Cheating tho, Dean Winchester Makes Bad Decisions, Traumatized Dean Winchester, Sex Addiction, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Incest via AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester' https://ift.tt/XKeaM53 March 30, 2023 at 01:46PM

#IFTTT #AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester'#Destiel #ao3feed #ao3feed Destiel #Destiel fanfic #Dean Winchester/Castiel #Castiel/Dean Winchester #Dean x Castiel #Castiel x Dean

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Interrogation, Part One

Also known as Jake and The Real Bad Week, Part One. Directly follows Come Back. I’ll alternate these with Chris, so you get an idea of what’s happening to both at about the same time.

CW: Violent beating, electric shock, references to past noncon to another person, institutional brutality, pet whump setting, box boy setting, referenced past domestic abuse

Tagging @finder-of-rings, @burtlederp (@stxck-fxck, it won’t let me tag you!)

“You know,” Jake says, feeling blood thick on his tongue, “usually for something to be considered interrogating, you have to ask a fucking question.” He spits off to the side, trying not to think about the copper taste, the pinkish saliva on the floor.

“Thanks for telling me how to do my job,” The guy says. He’s older, has a blocky face with a rough-cut jawline, looks like the kind of guy you call the muscle in a movie. His hair is a light sandy blond, graying with age. Could be late forties, early fifties. Could be younger and just lived kind of a shitty life.

“Well, you haven’t done it so far, so I figured, maybe you just need the help.” Jake keeps his voice low, almost calm, although anger boils in his veins, alongside worry. This is what his mother always told him would happen, if he kept getting deeper into the movement. If you stick your neck out for somebody, Jake, sooner or later someone else is going to come cut your head off.

Fuck if he cares. Somebody has to stick their necks out for the rescues.

Jake thinks of Chris the night he came, the shivering boy with his hair plastered to his head in the rain, silent and with his hands always in tight fists, held perfectly still, at his side. Wide green eyes, rainwater running down his face like tears. Wrapped in a blanket and wearing nothing but a loose pair of nearly-sheer pants that rain had made stick to his legs. Nat, speaking in hurried half-whispers with Vince, who had picked the boy up from some woman he knew and brought him here in the dead hours of the night.

He doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know anything. His captor called him Baldur.

Jake thought of taking one look at the delicately wrought, beautiful face and thinking, there’s no fucking way you were eighteen when they found you.

The guy cracks his knuckles. Jake doesn’t flinch.

“I’ve asked you enough questions,” The guy says, kicking out a chair like he’s going to sit, but he doesn’t. “Jakob Collins Stanton-… Collins is a weird middle name.”

“Mother’s maiden name,” Jake shrugs, as best he can. “Mom’s from the South, they do that down there.”

“Hm. My people are Southern, too.”

“Must be where you get all this fuckin’ hospitality.”

The guy’s fist cracks across his cheekbone and Jake groans, but feels a weird sense of victory, anyway. Pissed you off, nyah nyah, sing-songs a bratty little voice somewhere inside his had.

“So,” The guy says, like nothing happened. “Jakob Stanton, Junior at the university, but you’re, what, mid-twenties?”

“Non-traditional.”

“Can’t blame you. College is a fucking money-sink these days. Better off going into a business like mine.”

“What, law enforcement?”

There’s a pause. Then, “Yes,” The guy says. Jake raises his eyebrows. “Anyway. You’ve been working at this shelter for… let’s see here… two years. How’d you meet Natalie Yoder, anyway? She’s a known dangerous entity.”

Nat, wild-haired in her housecoat and pajamas, screaming obscenities at the cops to make sure the sounds were loud enough to cover the sound of Jake getting Chris safely hidden in the false-backed closet. The sound of someone slapping her, and the way it didn’t even slow her down.

The red marks on her face when they’d loaded her into the back of one squad car and Jake into the back of the other.

The relief on her face when no one came out of the house with Chris. The way Jake’s pounding heart had leapt, seeing the officers empty-handed, knowing that it meant Chris had understood, had stayed hidden, silent, safe.

Jake closes his eyes, hoping, praying someone will find him and help him. Chris can’t be on his own, not yet, he doesn’t have any of the skills. They hadn’t had time to work on adult life skillsets, yet, just getting him settled, letting him remember what it was like to live in his own skin again.

Please, please don’t leave the house. Please be safe there. Please, please, please, Chris. I’m coming back for you. They can’t hold me forever.

Please. You deserve someone who keeps their promises, please let me keep my promise to you.

Please let me be able to.

“Yeah, lady who runs a homeless shelter and volunteers at a fucking soup kitchen, she’s a real menace to society,” Jake says dryly.

“You know damn well I’m not talking about her volunteer work. She’s been on our radar for… oh, ten, fifteen years?”

“Whose?”

The guy stills, then. “What?”

Jake stares into the guy’s flat gray eyes. “Whose radar, man? Whose radar is Nat on? Whose radar picked me up?”

The guy looks at him for another long moment, then looks down at the papers littered across the table. There’s one of those mirrors along the wall, where people on the other side can see you but you can’t see them, but Jake doesn’t think anyone is watching. They’ll want plausible deniability, they’ll want no one to have seen him getting the shit kicked out of him by some asshole on a low-level power trip.

“I asked you a question.”

“I don’t give a fuck. You don’t ask the questions here.” The guy slides a slim manila folder out from underneath the other scattered papers. Jake’s eyes scan the front, where someone has handwritten 223499. The number means nothing to him, beyond a simple certainty that there’s a Box Boy or Box Babe in that folder.

Antoni? Leila? Krista? Chris? Kauri? Could be any of them. Could be one of the others that’ve moved on or moved out. Transitioned back into the lives they deserve, not the cages they’d been locked up in, so WRU could convince them they signed up to suffer.

“‘You don’t ask the questions here’,” Jake mocks him, knowing he’s treading a delicate line, but his palms are starting to sweat and his face hurts and he’s fucking had it with this. “What is this, a movie? Jesus, do they feed you lines to learn at the Academy, or…?”

The guy laughs, a dry, mirthless chuckle. He keeps his fingertips on the folder, then straightens his spine and stands back straight, looking at Jake. “Does it matter? It’s true, cliché or not.”

“Look. I get that you’re enjoying yourself, but I’m more than a little bit over this. Just let me leave, you don’t have shit.” Jake’s been here for hours, and he’s fucking exhausted running on the like three and a half hours of sleep he’d gotten before the raid. He’s got class on Tuesday, he needs someone to take notes since apparently he’s going to be in fucking jail.

Well, unless they have nothing, the way he thinks they do.

“How do you know if we have something on you or not?” The guy asks, his voice low, but genuinely curious. The silence stretches out between them.

Something is off about this.

“What are you charging me with?” Jake asks, watching cautiously as the older man shifts back, steps casually around the table. Jake’s eyes follow his movements. His hands are zip-tied behind him, and he keeps feeling the hard edge of the plastic rubbing against his wrists. It’s starting to hurt, and he’s sure that’s the whole idea of leaving him like this.

Well, his wrists can join the parade of everything else that already hurts, it’s a club now, and his throbbing, burgeoning black eye is the current reigning president.

“Whatever we want,” The guy replies, and Jake snorts, then winces as that aggravates whatever happened to his nose on the last punch. It’s not broken, but it’s definitely pissed, and probably his nose is as responsible for the taste of blood in his mouth as biting his tongue is. He can feel something running down the back of his throat, making him clear his throat and cough. Could b blood.

“Well, that tells me something,” Jake says, sitting slowly back in the seat, looking up at the guy. “You’re not a fucking cop, are you?”

It’s a shot in the dark. Just a hunch, something that itches between his shoulder blades. Something about the way the guy moves, the way his uniform doesn’t look quite the same as the other cops, like it’s old-fashioned or something.

Something about the way the cop looks at him, not like a cop looking at a suspect, more like a butcher looking at a cow and figuring how much he’s going to pay to cut it up.

The guy goes still, before he laughs that dry little rumbling cackle again, and it’s all the answer Jake needs and definitely not the answer he wants. Because if he’s not a cop…

“I know what you are.” Jake’s voice goes nearly breathless, something not quite like panic. Deeper than that is the anger.

Finally, I get to see one of you fuckers face to face.

“And what,” The guy asks, rolling his sleeves up, a carefully practiced gesture of intimidation that makes Jake wonder if he does this in the mirror every morning just to be impressed with himself. “… is that?”

“You’re one of them.”

“Them?” The guy’s gray eyes, flat and lifeless, are on his again. Jake smiles, blood smeared wet across his teeth. Got you.

“You’re WRU.” Jake laughs, then coughs a little and spits more blood from his tongue onto the floor. “You’re fucking Facility assholes. Fucking handler. What, you paid the cops off to raid a fucking halfway house for homeless kids? Jesus, does no one actually sign up willingly? Is this how you get ‘em, you fucks with your goddamn bullshit about changing your life circumst-”

The backhand slams into the side of his face and Jake’s head snaps to the side, his body moving with it, and without his hands he can’t stop himself and he crashes to the ground on his side, head bouncing off the floor with a sickening crack, the chair he was sitting in clattering down after him.

But he’s still kind of laughing, through pain and the air that’s been knocked out of his lungs. What are the fucking odds, huh? He’s been training for cops, for law enforcement helping prop up a shitty system because the government makes the laws and we follow the laws, but that’s the thing, sometimes the laws are bullshit and leave hurting, fucked up, terrified people scattered around in their wake.

And sometimes people like Jake can see it happening.

Stick out your neck, Jake, and the cops’ll find out and cut your head off. This isn’t your fight.

Well, it sure as fuck is now, isn’t it?

He can’t stop laughing, now, because they made him practice how to talk to cops, but nobody ever figured he’d have to deal with a goddamn handler, assholes brainwashing kids like cult leaders into losing their memories, their lives, their independence, their personalities, burying it all under a wall of pain and drugs and fear.

Why didn’t he train for handlers?

Jake laughs, and spits more blood on the floor. Then he laughs some more.

“Shut up. Just keep your fucking mouth shut,” The guy growls at him, and Jake’s head pounds alongside all the other pieces of him, the pain that stitches him together. He’s a puzzle made of aches, and that has him laughing, too. What doesn’t make him laugh, right now? What doesn’t?

The kick of a steel-toed boot to his stomach definitely cuts the sound off, at least, and Jake lets out a low grunt of pain, curling in on himself trying to protect the soft parts, but the guy isn’t interested in kicking his organs, at least not now. He rights the chair and drags Jake back up into it. A fist slams into his face, and then it happens again, and again.

Jake’s head hangs low, and he’s barely going to be able to see out of one of his eyes tomorrow, but he’s getting the feeling that’s the least of his problems.

“You’re right,” The guy says, and takes a seat across the table, calm as can be. He slides the manila folder across, spins it around so it’ll be right side up when Jake looks at it. Jake stares down, then slowly raises his eyes back up. The guy’s a bit blurred, now, and the pain is a constant of agony through his body.

Vince has some fake teeth, from what Kauri’s owner did to him when they were kids. Jake wonders idly if Vince will pay for Jake to get some teeth replaced, since this guy’s going to knock some of them out if he keeps this up much longer.

“I’m not with the cops. They’re going to charge you with resisting arrest-”

“Oh, fuck that bullshit,” Jake says, and his lower lip is swelling, the words are slurred more than he likes between that and his bitten tongue. “I didn’t resist shit.”

“They had to throw you into a wall,” The guy says, calmly.

“You did that!”

“Not on the paperwork, I didn’t, and you sure as fuck can’t prove otherwise. Oh no, you kicked up a fuss, as they say. That’s gonna get you a nice hefty fine.”

Jake thinks of Vince and Nat arguing, some nights, when the movie star stops by to be a fucking nuisance. I don’t do the rescuing, Nat, I just write the goddamn checks.

It’d be nice if Jake had that kind of money. Then again, he wouldn’t want to survive what Vince survived to get there - all the child actor grossness, the predatory producers and directors, Owen Grant drugging him and making him lie about what happened to save his career-

“Hey.” Fingers snap under his nose, and Jake flinches back. The guy grins. “That’s better. I like them flinchy. I told you to take a good look and see if this is anyone you recognize. This is who I’m here to recover.”

Jake’s eyes drop to the open folder laid out in front of him.

Chris looks back at him, standing with his shoulders hunched, staring with empty, blank green eyes in the white t-shirt and black shorts Jake has seen in other photos, before, snuck out by the informants who work in WRU. The flash of the black shock collar around his throat makes Jake’s teeth grind together hard enough to add that ache to the list of pains he’s already feeling.

His hair’s the same, he’s maybe a little thinner, but it’s the empty look in his eyes that gets Jake’s blood running cold, like it always does when he sees them like this. All sense of themselves shoved aside, pushed under the surface, drowning in conditioned responses in place of identity.

And he’s just a kid.

“You know who this is, don’t you?” The guy asks, and Jake stares into Chris’s eyes. Blank.

The boy’s hands are motionless fists like stones at the ends of his arms. Still as a statue, not moving at all. No blur of happiness, no taps on the walls, no cold feet pressed against Jake’s legs, no spiderlegs movement into his bed when the night scares him too much to get through alone.

“I’ve never seen this boy in my life,” Jake says, lips numb, and it’s the truth.

Jake only knows Chris.

This photo isn’t of Chris. It’s of an empty slate, ready to be filled with whatever they want to put there, ready to serve, to be an active participant, ready to tilt his head just so to the side and put on a smile that never reaches his eyes and say in a breathy voice, I want this. I want you.

Just like they all do.

Because if they don’t get it just right, they’re tortured until they do.

“You’re lying to me,” The guy says, tapping his finger on the photo again. He moves the paper aside, and there’s another photo underneath. The same boy, a metal collar around his neck hooked to a chain on the wall. There’s an IV in his arm, and a bag just off to the side. His hands are tied behind his back, and there are deep, deep shadows under the boy’s eyes, wide with tears and pain and fear.

“I’m telling you, I’ve never seen this kid.” Jake’s voice is a little less confident, then. But he doesn’t know this one, either, because this is whoever Chris was, before he was a number, before he was a teenage slave, before he was destroyed and rebuilt.

“Oh, really? I’ve got one more photo I think will change your mind.”

Don’t show me what I think you’re going to show me. Don’t do it. Don’t don’t don’t don’t-

The next photo is of Chris, too.

He’s crying in it.

Jake has barely allowed his brain to comprehend what exactly is happening to Chris in the final photo - and he will not allow himself to remember it, not ever, never again - before he’s moving, pushing himself to his feet and then crouching to get his shoulder under the table that isn’t bolted into the floor, but it should be.

“Go to fucking hell, you piece of shit,” Jake growls, and pushes the table over with his shoulder.

It falls nearly on top of the asshole in his chair, knocking him back with a low yelp and scattering photos everywhere, paperwork slipping across the floor like stones skimming the surface of a lake. By the time the guy has started to stand back up, Jake is kicking the table at him, all of it happening in some deep slow motion of misery in his mind.

Chris deserved better. Chris deserved a family. Chris deserved to be safe. They all deserve to be safe. They all deserve something other than this.

The guy gets back to his feet, baring his teeth at Jake in a snarl. They stand, staring at each other, as the guy pulls a slim back baton off his belt, hits a button, and there’s the distinct crackle of electricity.

Jake’s eyes widen, panting still with the exertion that came with pushing the table over, his leg muscles stretched and protesting. “I know what that is,” He says, his tongue a leaden weight in his mouth. His heart drops to his knees.

They hurt us all the fucking time with their sticks, Kauri whispers in his mind. Again and again and again, until we’re not bad any longer.

“Struck a nerve,” The guy says, and wipes at his mouth with the back of one hand. Jake doesn’t take his eyes off the baton. “You do know who that is, don’t you? We’re in the market to get him back where he belongs.”

Jake slowly looks up to meet the guy’s flat gray eyes.

He’s already hurting so fucking much. What’s a little more pain, when there’s someone else’s life on the line?

It’s not your fight, Jake. If you stick your neck out-

I’m making it my fight, Mom. Let them cut my fucking head off.

I was tired of having to stand and watch and not be able to help when I was ten and the bruises were on you, I sure as fuck don’t have to stand and watch when the pain is in him.

I can help now.

Try and stop me.

“I have no clue who that is,” Jake sneers, tightening his hands into fists behind his back. This is going to hurt. This is going to hurt and hurt and hurt, and it’s not going to stop, not until he’s not bad anymore, and Jake has no intention of being good. “But I know you’re the fucking pervert in the photo with him. You got a name so I can get you turned in to the real cops?”

The guy snorts, trying on a sneering smile, but Jake’s move with the table threw him off his smug little rhythm, and the smile isn’t real. “You can call me Mr. Everly. Or Sir.”

My Sir used to lock me outside when it stormed when I was bad

There were hooks in the wall for me in Sir’s bedroom

I had to stay in the basement sometimes so no one would see me

Jake swallows, hard. How far can anger carry you, against pain? He’s about to find out. His mother’s going to be ashamed of him, when she finds out he did this. But sometimes people are ashamed of you when you do the right thing. And right now there’s a boy waiting somewhere for Jake to keep his promise.

“All right, then, Everly. My name is Jake Stanton. I’m a junior in college. I’m twenty-five years old and I work in a homeless shelter for at-risk young adults and Nat Yoder’s been my boss for two years and I’ve never seen that kid before in my fucking life.”

“I don’t believe you.” The guy advances on him, and Jake backs up, right into a wall. It’s just the two of them, in here, and he’s sure that the camera in the corner near the ceiling is turned off. He’s going to walk out of here, but he might not be walking when he does it. He might not be crawling, either.

But he’s not going to give this guy a single piece of information he can use to ruin a life so fragile, so recently built.

Wait for me, Chris.

“I don’t give a shit if you believe me, it’s the truth.”

The guy raises the baton, brings it down, and Jake collapses to the ground, screaming at the pain that runs through every muscle as they lock up, nerves sparking with electricity. It comes down again, and again, and again, and everything is pain, and Jake’s eyes close tight and he doesn’t try to be strong, to hold out. He screams, and cries, and he holds green eyes in his mind, he holds backflips and yoga, and swinging from the high bars to the low bars, landing on his feet.

A bright and sunny smile as Chris lands on his feet, arms in the air, and immediately asks if Jake will watch him do it again.

Don’t leave, don’t run, don’t go somewhere you’re not safe, we’re coming back for you.

The baton turns into fists, into the ends of those steel-toed boots, into bruises that blossom and the sounds Jake is making are barely human as he curls up on the ground. When he’s hauled up into the chair again, the guy asks him more questions.

Jake stares at him, body singing with pain, and says nothing at all.

“You’re going to be annoying,” The guy says. “I can tell.”

Jake grins at him, bitterly, and spits a little more blood on the floor.

“I sure fuckin’ hope so. I want my goddamn phone call.”

“Thought you said I wasn’t a cop.”

“You’re not. But I want my phone call, anyway.” Jake stares at him, bleary and blurry thanks to the blood running into his eyes. “And I know you want to listen to it.”

The guy pauses, is quiet for a second. Jake doesn’t breathe.

“Fine.”

I’m coming back for you, Chris, I promise, but first I’m going to send someone who can help. If she can find you.

Please, please be waiting where she can find you.

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sofspook · 4 years

Text

Shipping

All at Sea - Welcome Home

|| Part One | Part Two ||

CW: Whump involving a minor (although it’s not really meant to be whump per se-- being uncomfortable and dehydrated in a small box before being delivered to the door, just realistically what would happen to a box boy being shipped. Really meant as more of a storyline thing, like to start off the series at the very very beginning before he meets Keith..? idk how to cw for that lmao bear with me). Box boy universe setting (dehumanization), dehydration, small spaces, and a mention of the system of noncon that WRU runs. Implication that minor in question was apart of this system.

The boy's eyes were bloodshot. From inside the box, he couldn't see them, but he knew they were because he could feel it. His eyes felt static and watery and so dry all at the same time, like staring at a really old TV from really up close for too long. He had tried to blink away the feeling, long, long ago, only a few hours before he left the facility. After that, it just hurt. Burned, like all the points that gathered the ache of being folded up so tightly and haphazardly into the box. With a sharp, dry swallow, 567267 wondered again how long he'd been stuck here, stuffed in the hot darkness of this box. And, grimly, he wondered how much longer he could really go without food. How long had it been already? He didn't know.

The thoughts only lasted briefly, and then they slipped away, and the boy was left to wonder what it was he just thought about. Thoughts did that now, slipped away. He couldn't hold onto them long enough to make them stay. Weakly, he shifted his head to rest on another side of the box. And, really, he wasn't all that sure which side of the box it really was. The top, or the bottom? One of the sides? All sense of direction had somewhere along the lines been taken, pried away from his shaking hands, after all the shifting and jostling and moving and everything else that came with shipping to a new place.

And it's a feeling 567267 was quite used to.

It was all he could do to think, This will be over soon. I will be delivered soon. They will open the box soon. It brought some kind of fragment of comfort to him. At least, it did, until he forgot what he was chanting in his head, and then that slipped away, too. And maybe sometime he'd remember it again, and he'd hold onto it for as long as he could, and then that, too, would be taken. The boy with his limbs bent in a box-boy-box, bent in directions and angles they shouldn't be just so shipping is cheaper, knew that the dark ocean that swallows them all up ends one way or another. The box will be opened. There will be water. Soon, even if it's not right after he's let out.

And, if 567267 wasn’t given water? Well, he thought, maybe that was better. The boy smiled deliriously at that, the notion that one day he might be free from the endless need for water, the endless pain of a dry throat and a crackly voice and he'd never, never ever ever have to face it again, never have to go from house to house and count down the weeks until each three month return period was over. He’d be done with this drifting. This swimming in hot, cramped nothingness. Then thoughts of hot, it's hot, I need water, please let me out, washed away any thoughts of freedom, and the cycle started again. Dimly, the pain in his arm started to flare up again from earlier, but that, too, was swallowed up into the void.

Drifting, swimming, lost. It was dark, it was hot, and he was so, so scared. Scared because these men don't ever keep him for longer than that three-month return period. Some of them did this all the time, and he knew it-- everyone knew it, the little game played with WRU and the system of refurbished pets-- buy a pet, return them before the three-month timer was up, complain about some flaw in the order and blow it up to get a nice refund. An endless chain of romantics, that's what most of them are after. Manipulating the WRU system: quality pre-conditioning for cheap, sent straight to your door. Some of those men were born with exceptional lying skills and enough money for a good lawyer, and those are the ones who make a good enough case, and don't pay a dime.

And when that thought crossed his mind, 567267 thought of Mr. Alvarado.

And then that thought slipped from him, too.

He startled when a loud metal SCREECH of whatever back door to whatever cargo truck he was in now opened. Voices drifted through the back compartment of the vehicle, voices he couldn't understand through the box, or through the muddled world of heat that was his mind or through the pain in his arm that was growing a little more apparent and demanding. Footsteps echoed across the metal floor, and 567267 could hear those clearly. They grew closer. Heavier. A sharp gasp jerked out of his lungs when his box was tossed out of the truck, and he tumbled sideways onto some kind of hard, unforgiving surface. Pavement, or a road, or a driveway... please be a driveway.

He braced himself before he was lifted again this time, and he held his breath as he was lugged onto something that allowed them to move the box more freely. Small wheels squeaked in protest as he was moved along, and if he wasn't mistaken this was some kind of uphill slope. Driveway, driveway, driveway, driveway...

Then he was thrown off the cart or whatever it was, and picked up, and dropped again-- he whimpered with the creak the bone in his arm made-- and his head bashed against the hard wall of the box and sent a sickening electric chill throughout his body-- a nails-on-a-chalkboard feeling, travelling sharply from his head down his spine. And the box was picked up and dropped, and pushed, and stalled, and finally, finally, he came to a rest, and he heard the muffled sound of knocking.

Water, water, water, water, water...

Now there was another voice, a deep, calm-but-anxious voice of some man, the boy thought, and he was talking to whoever just did a horrible job getting him from the truck to the doorway. Then he was picked up again, and wasn't let back down for some time, and he clutched his now-burning-painful arm in the other arm and... and then he was lowered down in a steadier, far more gentle manner. For some time the boy heard a kind of high-pitched drilling noise, directly above him, and although he'd already heard it several times he still jumped. Bolts are out. Water, water, water, water...

The voices faded. A door shut. Something shifted above him. And light poured in from outside the box.

[Next drabble]

#whump #whumpblr #captivity #box boy universe #box boy #small spaces #dehumanization tw #whump involving a minor #minor whump tw #pet whump tw #rough handling #delivery man you had one job #dehydration #tw: implied/referenced noncon #injured arm #injured limb #all at sea #all at sea (collective)#liam

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janfraiser · 3 years

Text

Whumptober Day 13: "That's Gonna Leave A Mark"

Fandom: Call the Midwife

Warnings: referenced abuse (only involving side characters), minor blood (please let me know if I need to add/change warnings)

Summary: An encounter with a patient's difficult husband takes an alarming turn.

Word Count: 1,114

AO3 tags under the cut!

Category: F/M

Relationships: Barbara Gilbert/Tom Hereward

Characters: Barbara Gilbert, Valerie Dyer, Tom Hereward, Patrick Turner, Trixie Franklin

Additional Tags: whump, fistfights, minor blood, implied abuse

#whumptober2021 #no. 13 #that's gonna leave a mark #call the midwife #fic #abuse tw #ctm #barbara gilbert #tom hereward #valerie dyer #otp: turn again to life and smile

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destieltropecollection · 4 years

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Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 17: Hurt/Comfort & Whump

the time has come | @elizaeverafter

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1068 Main Tags/Warnings: no archive warnings apply, non-graphic pet death, angst with a happy ending, hopeful ending, established relationship, married castiel/dean winchester, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: The second Dean walked into their home, he should’ve picked up on the fact that something was wrong. Looking back on it, it was so silent that it was suffocating. There was an unnatural stillness, like their house knew something bad had happened and was trying not to involve itself.

Beautiful | @ialwayscomewhenyoucall

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1367 Main Tags/Warnings: human!cas, hurt/comfort, injured cas, first kiss Summary: “How long has he been sitting there?” Dean starts; he’d been watching Cas and hadn’t heard Sam behind him. “Five hours.” Dean practically spits out the words. “He won’t eat. He won’t move to a more comfortable chair. He won’t even take his damn pain pills. And he can’t tell me that doesn’t hurt, I know what a broken collar bone feels like. He’s just so--” ***** In which Cas, now fully human for several months, has been injured, and Dean has to Use His Words to comfort his friend.

Teardrops For You | @envydean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1500 Main Tags/Warnings: Grief, Character Death, Established Relationship, Funerals, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dean and Cas holding each other, Sadness, slight fluff, Angst, Car Accidents, Nightmares, Cuddling, Holding, Crying, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting Summary: The accident killed her and left Dean alive and emotionally broken. He's a disgrace. His best friend is dead and he can't even cry for her.

Soup & Syrup | @suckerfordeansfreckles

Rating: General Word Count: 1548 Main Tags/Warnings: best friends to lovers, getting together, sick Cas Summary: Cas started feeling sick two days ago, throat raw and hurting, every part of his body in pain as if he’ll burn up with fever any second. Then he had to cancel his and Dean's weekly study date in the library this afternoon, to stay home and take a quick nap that accidentally ended up four hours long and left him groggy and sweaty and weird. Dean has been sending him texts, five since he cancelled earlier, and as soon as Cas felt awake and present enough to respond, he called. This is where they are now, around 1 a.m. on a Saturday. He didn’t really stop to look at the clock before he called Dean, but — well. He was just hoping Dean would be awake, maybe out with friends. He was just hoping that maybe, maybe, Dean would come by and dote a little on him. Just because having his best friend around always makes him feel better. Not because he craves Dean’s presence, his palm on Cas’ forehead and his hands tucking him in beneath his blanket. Absolutely not.

The Admission | @deservetobesaved

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1720 Main Tags/Warnings: season 13, all the feelings Summary: Castiel finds out Dean threatened to kill Jack. He also finds out how broken Dean was when he died. So, naturally, he confronts him about it. A sort of fix-it coda, in or after 13x06.

Knowing | @unexpecteddreamz

Rating: General Word Count: 2013 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Demon Dean Summary: Of all the things Castiel might have expected to see, this was the last... It might well be the last thing he ever sees! Castiel is ""Always willing to bleed for the Winchesters"". Sam doesn't know how to fix what is broken. Dean is having nightmares. How did everything go so wrong so fast?

The Snow's Captives | SargentMom573 (AO3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2126 Main Tags/Warnings: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Sick Castiel, Caretaker Dean, Cabin Fic Summary: Dean was not going to make it alive down the mountain in a week’s time. Why? Because Cas was going to kill him, that’s why.

Skin Wars | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: General Word Count: 2319 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, Artist!Dean, Model!Cas, body painting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cas protecting Dean from himself, shy!Dean, introvert!dean, Baby, graffiti artist!charlie, artist!Balthazar, art critic!Crowley, TV host!Anna, Skin Wars AU Summary: Dean, a traditionally trained artist, is competing for $100,000 in the reality body painting TV show, Skin Wars. He’s lucky enough to get paired with a friend as his model, Cas, for a particularly personal challenge. Dean feels his painting isn’t up to snuff, but what will the judges think?

Take Me Home | @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2683 Main Tags/Warnings: Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Sexual Abuse, Non-con/Rape outside of Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, TW: Mentions of Non-con/Rape Summary: “I want to go home.” Dean let out, in a strangled voice. “Of course -” Cas reached for Dean’s hand, prepared to fly them away. Dean pulled away his hand, and rested his head backwards, against the seat. It seemed impossibly long before he finally asked. Unsure, as if somehow he still felt like Castiel could deny him anything. “Could you drive?”

Cold Comfort | @noiproksa

Rating: General Word Count: 3232 Main Tags/Warnings: Sharing Body Heat, Hypothermia, Huddling for Warmth, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Banter Summary: Dean and Cas are trapped in a room with temperatures well below zero. When even sharing vessel heat doesn’t seem to help anymore, they need to do whatever it takes to keep each other alive. (Intended as gen, but can be read as Destiel pre-slash.)

Exodus | @spnsmile

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3365 Main Tags/Warnings: Explicit, noncon, hurt/ comfort Summary: Endverse!Dean comes back alive. He comes back to the camp to find he was gone for almost a month and that Castiel now serves a different captain. Like hell Dean Winchester will let that happen.

save that light | @specsofwings

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4779 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Assassin Dean Winchester, Human Castiel, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Whump, Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Blasphemy/Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Crucifixion, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Angst With a Happy Ending, Trauma, Healthy Relationship, Hurt/Comfort Summary: He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive— Dean isn’t sure if it’s his brain, if he’s speaking aloud, if it’s Jody, next to him in the car, but he’s alive, Castiel is alive, and then there is darkness.

The Empty's Curse | @cloverhighfive

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5380 Main Tags/Warnings: major character death, angst, fluff Summary: Dean is dying and there is no getting out of it this time. After a round of goodbyes from friends, Castiel takes Dean on one last ride.

Shiver | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5714 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern with Magic, Witchcraft, Getting Back Together, Blizzards and Snowstorms, Car Accident, Snowed In, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, NSFW Summary: In desperate need of his journal to complete a spell, Dean braves a snowstorm to return to the cabin - and the man - left behind. Can a freak accident repair what's been damaged? Or will their lack of communication push Dean and Cas apart forever?

Six Feet Under Water | zaphodsgirl (AO3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 7638 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: This story is inspired by the amazing art of dragonpressgraphics, accompanied by this prompt: "Can be canon or AU (though Canon preferred - see below why) where Cas almost drowns and either Dean witnessed it or rescues him - would love a fic where Cas then has to deal with fear of drowning afterwards - maybe Dean too has nightmares about Cas drowning because of the same experience (bonus if references are made to season 6/7 where Cas walked into the water because of the Leviathans). Loads of angst more than okay as long as story has happy ending"

This Path Is Paved With Kitty Litter | @navajolovesdestiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8392 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Grieving Castiel (Supernatural), Caring Dean Winchester, Veterinary Assistant Dean, Deanna The Kitten, Explicit Sexual Content Summary: The man moved from cage to cage, petting each cat in turn. Dean could hear his sigh from where he was standing. Dean walked over to him. The guy looked up at Dean and again, his eyes made Dean’s knees weak. “Hey, guy, you spend a lot of time with these cats. You thinking about adopting one?” The look on the guy’s face went from sad to stricken. “Uh… n-no, I’m… I’m just looking at them.” The look made Dean’s chest hurt.

After the Fallout | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8832 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Apocalypse, Post-Nuclear War, some body horror, Major Character Injuries, Nightmares, Mutants, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, Angst, Conspiracy, top!dean, Bottom!Cas Summary: Its been years since the nuclear catastrophe that decimated the world. From the moment Dean Winchester stepped foot on the surface again, he’s been running from mutant creatures that want to kill him. When will it end?

I'm Thankful I get to Leave | @sheinthatfandom

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11079 Main Tags/Warnings: thanksgiving dinner, alternate universe- human, dysfunctional family, uncomfortable topics, red flags, emotional manipulation, emotional incest, homophobia, ableism, racism, bad parent mary, bad parent john, bobby used to be married to mary Summary: Screw you Columbus now we have to eat at Mary’s pretending to not be the Jerry Springer version of the Brady Bunch instead of getting ready for Christmas.

The Last Thing I Wanted | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11492 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Fantasy, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Whump, Prince!Dean, Concubine!Cas Summary: When Castiel is grievously wounded during an unsanctioned battle, it's all Prince Dean can do to make sure he lives the rest of his life comfortably. However, due to the archaic laws of Terra, Castiel is too lowborn to hold lands, deeds, or titles. What better way to solve an archaic problem than with a just-as-antiquated solution?

Healing an Angel | @noiproksa

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 12017 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Castiel, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Team Free Will, Wing Grooming, Aftermath of Torture Summary: Cas has been captured by shapeshifters who have been torturing him for weeks. The aftermath is not pretty, but Dean will do anything to get his angel through this and get him to trust them again. To make matters worse, the mastermind behind Cas’ capture is still alive. Will they be able to keep him from coming after Cas again?

Cloned to Perfection | @fangirlingtodeath513

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16298 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester,Castiel (Supernatural),Dean Winchester,Sam Winchester,Bobby Singer,Charlie Bradbury,Cain (Supernatural),Alastair (Supernatural),John Winchester,Alternate Universe - Future,Marine Castiel (Supernatural),John Winchester Being an Asshole,Canon-Typical Violence,Human Experimentation,Government Experimentation,Genetic Engineering,Clones,Gun Violence,Shooting Guns,Fugitives,Hacking,Government Conspiracy,Blow Jobs,Come Swallowing,Interrogation,Truth Serum,Needles,Brief Mentions of Torture (Not TFW),Alternate Universe - No Monsters,Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss,Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time,Hand Jobs,Angst with a Happy Ending,Happy Ending,Minor Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer,Minor Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle,Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester Summary: For thirty years, Dean’s been in the dark about a bombshell of a family secret. When an AWOL soldier shows up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, he’s shoved into a world he had no idea existed. He never asked to be cloned. He never asked to have his genome edited to make him a super-soldier. He didn’t even know. Now his fate rests in the hands of a ragtag group—Castiel, the AWOL soldier sent as a warning by Sam and Dean’s father; Charlie, an ingenious hacker and Dean’s best friend; and his brother Sam, who’s also being chased by the government for the same reason. Can they pull the rug out from under the military general who’s after their father’s research, or will Sam and Dean be doomed to live the remainder of their lives being experimented on by the military?

He Can't Sleep | @pray4jensen

Rating: Mature Word Count: 18970 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Domestic, Case Fic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Summary: He’s done soaping up Cas’ hair. He grabs the sponge at his side and starts to scrub at Cas’ skin, up along his arms, his neck, down his chest. When he runs it up his legs, to his thighs, Cas shudders and then there’s a hand cupping Dean’s cheek, cold and dripping water and soap, and Dean falters, looks at him for the first time. “Will you sleep with me?” Cas says. “Tonight?” Dean swallows. He says yes.

One Last Time | @confusedcasishere

Rating: Mature Word Count: 27370 Main Tags/Warnings: Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Dom/Sub, Dom Castiel/ Sub Dean Winchester, Lawyer Castiel, Top Castiel/ Bottom Dean Winchester, Porn With Plot Summary: After some convincing, Castiel agrees to try out a sex club. He’s nervous and looking for any excuse to back out, until he stumbles across a photo of a beautiful sub with captivating green eyes. Cas has to have him.

Highway to Hell (WIP) | @tucuxia

Rating: Mature Word Count: 31551 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Gabriel Has a Crush on Sam Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester/Omega Gabriel, Alpha Balthazar/Omega Crowley, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Dean's life hasn't been great, Biker Castiel, Biker Sam Winchester Summary: Castiel, who shares leadership of the Hells Angels biker gang with his two older alpha brothers, finds out that a rival gang has been encroaching on their territory. During a tense meeting with the Devil's Blood gang in Lawrence, KS, he becomes the owner of a scared, broken young omega named Dean. Having forgotten how to speak after a decade under Azazel's cruel ownership, can the young omega learn to trust his new family, and maybe reconnect with the one he lost?

I Choose You (WIP) | @baby-in-a-trenchcoat7

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 43284 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Destiel, Slight Smut, High School Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester Summary: High School AU. Castiel Novak has a dirty dream about the captain of the baseball team, Dean Winchester. Dean has a dirty dream about the nerdy Novak boy who hangs around the art room a lot. Castiel becomes Dean’s tutor, and the two soon learn that keeping their relationship platonic is harder than they thought. As their relationship develops, the two have to fight to overcome their problems while doing everything they can to stay together. Rated Explicit for sexual scenes.

Emergence | @ellis-park

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 58862 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon fic, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, amnesia, graphic depictions of violence Summary: Something’s been missing from Dean’s life for the past three years, a void left after a hunt gone terribly wrong. He often feels a sense of longing with no discernible cause, a need to talk to someone who isn’t there. A call from an acquaintance leads Dean to James Novak, a man who disappeared more than a decade ago, and suddenly Dean gets the feeling he’s found what he’s been missing. But James isn’t really James — he’s the angel Castiel, who’s wanted by angels, demons and hunters alike. And he may be at the center of the storm that wrecked Dean’s life all those years ago.

Forbidden Fruit (WIP) | @amyoatmeal

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 95427 Main Tags/Warnings: professor student au, stripper au, age difference, top!castiel/bottom!dean, unrequited castiel/balthazar, unrequited dean winchester/aaron bass, dean winchester & charlie bradbury, threats of noncon/sexual abuse, threats of violence, mentions of past trauma/abuse, angst Summary: Castiel Novak is a respectable, if not a little boring professor at his university. He lives a comfortable, financially stable life with his cat in his modestly-sized apartment. It would appear he has everything he needs, including an over-eager friend and colleague, but when fate tempts him with a seemingly familiar new student by the name of Dean Winchester, Castiel's comfortable life threatens to get turned on its head and things start to get a little juicy.

Stay With Me, Sweetheart | @a-mandala-rose

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 108710 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean/Cas, Dean/Lisa, Past Dean/Others, Past Cas/Others, Kid Fic, Serious Major Character Injury, Car Accident, PTSD/Panic Attacks, House Fires, Past Minor Canonical Character Death, Minor OC Death, Past Emotional Abuse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Referenced Top Dean/Bottom Cas, Explicit Top Cas/Bottom Dean Summary: “Alright Cas, here comes the hard part. We’re gonna get you out of here, but we’ve gotta take the roof off and while we do that, we’re gonna have to cover you with a sheet to protect you from the glass. I’ll be right here though. I’m not going anywhere.” As he starts to drift away, he suddenly feels the press of Dean’s forehead against his own through the rough fabric and hears that warm, sunlit voice murmer quietly in his ear, too low to be overheard by the firefighters currently working to remove the SUV’s roof, “Stay with me, Sweetheart.” A single moment's distraction ends with a serious car accident that leaves Castiel trapped in his vehicle. Fortunately for him, fire fighter Dean Winchester is there, never leaving Castiel's side as the rest of his company work to free him from the mangled remains of his SUV. When the two meet again in the ICU, Castiel finds himself just as drawn to and comforted by the handsome fireman as he was during his accident. Dean is certainly attractive, but single father Castiel doesn't have time or space in his life for a romantic relationship. Then again, there's no harm in making a new friend, is there?

#destiel trope collection 2020 #destiel trope collection #destiel #hurt comfort #whump #day 17

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haro-whumps · 4 years

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Group Whumpees: 1. Start

Inspired by this post by @whumping-every-day and @justtorturewhump about a group of whumpees. I’ve been thinking about it on and off ever since I saw it but I finally got the giddyup to actually write for it

CW: Modern slavery, implied + referenced abuse, death of a minor character, multiple whumpees, transphobia (brief), aftermath of torture/conditioning

Galo settled himself into the hospital chair, perfectly comfortable and positioned at a thoughtful angle to the side, opposite the door so physicians could easily enter. He’d intended for this to be a quick visit, but clearly his aunt had other ideas, so he might as well take a seat.

“Here I am on my deathbed!” Auntie Bethany raved, flinging her arm about wildly, and Galo internally winced each time she got too close to jerking on the IV, “Only ONE person comes to visit me! In my whole family!”

To be fair, your whole family is made up of jackasses, Galo thought privately, raising his hands in placation. “Auntie Bethany, please, you were just admitted today. I’m sure plenty of people will show up tomorrow.”

“None of them want to visit me, even when I’m going to die!” she persisted. To be fair, Galo didn’t really want to visit her either. He just… well, she was family. And she was in the hospital. And even though his family was estranged and largely filled with self-centered, arrogant individuals that made any kind of holiday event a stomach ache and a half, he tried not to be. So here he was.

“You’re not going to die, Auntie Bethany,” Galo said patiently. “You’ve had this surgery before, remember? And you made it through just fine. I bet the same surgeon still works here, even!” Galo tried for a positive tone, cheerful.

“Ah, you’re such a good niece for your dear old aunt, sweetheart.”

“I’m your nephew, auntie, we’ve been over this,” Galo said through grit teeth, smile significantly more forced now. This is why no one likes you, Galo thought.

“That’s why I’m leaving you all of my estate, darling,” Auntie Bethanie continued like she hadn’t heard him. Galo blinked twice.

“I’m sorry, what?” Galo asked nicely, sticking his pinkie finger in his right ear as though to clear it out. “You’re…”

“I have my lawyer coming to the hospital,” Auntie Bethany said, “Go get me a pair of socks. They keep it so damn freezing in here.”

Galo rose and went to the cabinet, pulling out the soft yellow cloth and helping the socks onto her feet.

“I had planned to split my estate between everyone who showed up, but you’re the only one! So you get the jackpot, you’re welcome!” she said, well, nearly-shouted, as Galo tugged the socks on over the socks she was already wearing, struggling with the tightness. He was strong; daily visits to the gym had his arms thickly muscled, his chest broad, but he wasn’t exactly trying to break his elderly aunt’s foot here, so he couldn’t just shove.

“Thank you, Auntie Bethany,” he said, trying to sound actually grateful and not just tiredly patient. So this was her newest passive-aggressive ploy. After Galo told the rest of the family there was money involved, the others would show up with their plastic smiles and loud voices and then she would get to gripe at how they were only in it for the money, but change the will up anyway to keep them visiting. She liked to play “games” like that. Galo tried very, very hard not to sigh.

It’d probably keep up after the hospital stay, too, Galo mused as he sat back down in the chair. People showing up to her home with flowers and wine and “earnest” attempts to make sure she was recovering just fine. Honestly, who knew how long she could drag this out? Her poor lawyer. He hoped she was at least paying them well.

The lawyer did, in fact, arrive, and Galo quietly apologized each time his aunt criticized or scolded the poor man.

“You’re uh, gonna need to use my legal name,” Galo said, handing him his driver’s license. “Not the uh, childhood nickname she keeps calling me.”

The lawyer gave him a sympathetic pat, and it was hours after Galo had planned that he finally managed to get out from under his aunt’s endless conversation and go home already. He sighed, dropping his coat on the floor of his small apartment’s entryway. For all that he was competent, intelligent, and good with organizational skills and the like; Galo had not been particularly successful in his life. He was good with people and good with life skills, he just.

Bluh!

Bluh bluh bluh! Now was not the time for a pity party, or else he’d turn into his aunt. He played an hour of his most recent video game, an open-world with a semi-voluntary plot, before turning in for the night. He should think about investing in a rabbit or something. He could eek out the money, and his apartment got awfully lonely, with just him, a computer, and a potted plant.

In the morning, he knew he should email his family and let them know Auntie Bethany wanted visitors, and she was messing around with her will. He should. A good son, nephew, brother, and cousin would. But then his dad would call him, asking for specifics (it never mattered how many specifics Galo put in the email. His dad would always call and ask for more), and that would mean talking to his dad and he really, really wasn’t ready for that, at the moment. Or at all. He could do it later. It wasn’t like Auntie Bethany was actually dying, after all, she was just up to her hysterics again. And god, if Galo’s sister or brother decided they wanted more than just an email… if they decided to “pop in” after visiting their aunt and gloat to Galo about how now it was their names on the will…

Oh and don’t even get Galo started on what Uncle Mike would do. He was a bigger attention whore than Auntie Bethany.

So he just… didn’t write. Didn’t call. Nothing that big was happening, they could afford to wait a few days before feeding into Auntie Bethany’s weird games. She could probably use a little disappointment for the first time in her spoiled, nasty life anyway.

Galo took a deep breath and covered his face with his broad palm. He shouldn’t think like that. That was uncalled for. Auntie Bethany was a fine person, she was just rude, and loud, and inconsiderate. But she was family. He should be polite. But, still, it would be fine if she had to wait a little while for everyone to get in on her weird ploys.

So imagine Galo’s surprise when the hospital called him after work, letting him know his aunt had, unfortunately, not made it through her surgery.

Her mansion (and that’s really the only word that could describe it, though “castle” was more fitting, in Galo’s opinion (it had an estate garden, who has an ‘estate garden’?!?!)) was huge. Galo had made that observation before, of course, every time he’d spent the weekend as a kid and the couple of times he’d visited during a family gathering. He couldn’t really believe it was his. The castle, the pool, the garden, all of her badass furniture he’d been warned to keep off of as a kid, her hella entertainment system that he honestly couldn’t wait to hook his game consoles up to. Didn’t she also own slaves? He wasn’t certain; he tended to get as drunk as possible as fast as possible at family gatherings, in order to survive said family gatherings, but he was pretty sure she’d mentioned putting away her servants for the evenings since they were “eyesores” or some shit. And he definitely remembered her having one when he was a kid, a glass-eyed guy only about a decade older than Galo himself.

Whatever. He unlocked the front door with her keys, attached to his keychain now, and took in the familiar foyer. He should go upstairs and check if her turquoise guest room was the same as when he was younger. It had an en suite bathroom with a bath the size of a hot tub, and it could definitely serve as his new master bedroom. Auntie Bethany’s had been the size of a ballroom, and he really didn’t need all that space (or to sleep in the same bed his dead aunt had slept in, guh).

“Mistress, w--” a thin woman with pale hair and over-wide eyes entered swiftly, then flinched back, grinding to a halt when she saw Galo.

“S-Sir, I’m sorry sir, but our mistress is out at the moment. You will have to visit her at a later time.”

“Oh, uh, I’m, not a home invader,” Galo assured, setting his little potted plant down near the antique vase his aunt had boasted about so frequently. The poor lady was trembling visibly, though he had to give her credit for not screaming and calling the police upon seeing a stranger enter her home. He probably should’ve called out and introduced himself when he let himself in; he’d just been thinking about how Auntie Bethany had kept slaves. “My aunt had a relapse, recently, and was admitted to the hospital yesterday. Uh, her surgery didn’t go so well,” Galo said, rubbing at the back of his neck. He needed to shave down his undercut, he thought rather inanely. “She didn’t make it. I uh, I’m sorta the sole inheritor of her estate? For the time being; at the funeral I’m sure we’ll get into plenty of arguments,” he said with a forced chuckle.

“My name’s Galo,” he greeted, extending his hand to the woman.

He was a little taken aback when she genuflected and kissed his palm, dropping fluidly and with unexpected grace. “Oh, uh, okay,” he said, cupping her face and stroking a thumb over her cheekbone. Except, whoops, that was the wrong thing to do, he realized, since her face contorted and her whole body locked up.

“Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you,” Galo said, pulling his hand away immediately. She went down on both knees and pressed her forehead to the floor, further confusing Galo, her movements still fluid as silk.

“I apologize, Master. I reacted poorly.”

“No, no,” Galo rushed to reassure, his words making her flinch. “You’re good, you’re fine, it’s alright,” he tried, and that went over a little better.

“I apologize if I have angered you, Master.”

“You--didn’t. I’m just, surprised is all.” He bent down and touched his fingers very lightly against the back of her hand, and he noted that she flinched again. Okay. Probably a trauma response. His aunt had likely picked her up from somewhere bad, but that was alright. He had significantly more emotional intelligence than Auntie Bethany; he was better suited to help this kind of person than she was. Would have been.

“Will you tell me your name?” Galo asked, voice intentionally calm and reassuring.

“...” He watched her swallow, his brows furrowing. Did she… not know her own name? “Whatever pleases Master best,” she eventually answered.

“Oh,” Galo said, voice soft and pitying. “No, that’s alright. You can tell me what you’d like to be called.”

“I--wouldn’t, be presumptuous, Master, and put words in your mouth.” Man, she was shaking like a leaf. He would definitely be stuttering, if he was that scared.

But a direct approach clearly wasn’t going to work, here, he couldn’t just do it over and over again and expect different results. He’d come at this from a different angle.

“You’re so obedient,” he praised, stroking a finger down her fingers and along the back of her hand, light as a feather. “You’re very good, you were trained to answer just like that, weren’t you?”

“Yes Master,” she said, sounding relieved. Good.

“But right now, what I’m asking for is your name. If you don’t like the one Auntie Bethany called you, that’s fine, you can pick something else, but I’m not going to think of one for you, okay? I need you to do that, now,” Galo said patiently, feeling a little silly for talking to a grown adult in the same tone he might take with a crying child, but, well. Trauma response.

“Nyla, Master.”

“Good girl, Nyla.” He heard her breath of relief, and tapped the backs of his knuckles against her hand. “Stand up for me?” he asked, slipping his hands underneath her palms. He rose, and she stood with him, again with that eerie grace, pretty much none of her weight against his hands, although he had intended to help her up.

“So, is there anyone else here I should meet?” Galo asked, smiling patiently at Nyla who did not meet his eyes at all. “That other guy. Gr… G-something.”

“Greyson, if it pleases you Master.”

“That’s it! He still around?”

“Yes Master. I can fetch the others for you, Master, and bring them to wherever you’d prefer to inspect us.”

“Uh,” Galo blinked twice. Okay. Nyla was clearly going to require a lot of delicacy, and while he was definitely equipped to do that, he wasn’t fast. “Sure, how about you get the others in the--” No, not the living room, the furniture in there was all tiny and mostly just for her weird 60’s aesthetic, “--den.”

He mentally added “den” onto his brand new list of things that made Nyla lock up. He should probably turn it into a physical list, at some point, since he was going to live with her now, and it was important to make note of things like this.

But the damage was done, and maybe this would be a good way to show her his aunt’s den wasn’t like… whatever it was, that she’d experienced before here.

His den. It wasn’t his aunt’s anymore. Auntie Bethany was dead.

It was a weird feeling, he thought to himself as he grabbed his potted plant and went upstairs to the guest bedroom that was, in fact, still just as cool as he remembered it. He set it on the windowsill of his house. It was a weird feeling, a really weird feeling, that someone he’d known all his life was suddenly… gone.

He didn’t miss her. He didn’t like her, and they certainly hadn’t been close. He wasn’t mourning her. But. Hm. His grandparents had all died before he could remember them, so he hadn’t really had a death in the family before. It was strange and almost-melancholy, thinking that his aunt would never again walk through this place. Would never hassle him about his hair at family gatherings ever again, or complain about the TV being too quiet, or eat cantelope with her mouth open.

He shook himself. He had other people to say hello to and introduce himself to. He gave his cheeks two smart pats and left the room, mentally plotting where he would put his own personal effects. And ugh, he had to get rid of that weird hall painting. Actually, why not just do that now; he was there and it was large, but if he gripped under the frame on top he could sorta-shoulder-carry it down the stairs. The weight wasn’t much of an issue. He was a particularly buff stud, after all.

“Oh, there’s more of you than I expected,” he mentioned offhand, reaching the den. Five slaves stood at strict attention, ignoring the human-sized furniture he’d intended them all to sit on, including a girl who couldn’t possibly be older than twenty. He stared at her, a muted horror not quite breaking past the shock. She was absolutely covered in bruises. Some were purple, some yellowing, some bright red and fresh, hardly older than two or possibly three days.

“Oh god,” he breathed, very, very deliberately reminding himself to move slowly as he approached her. Poor thing! Had she fallen? The bruises differed in age too much for that. He reached out a hand to her, slowly, well within her field of vision, but she still flinched.

“Master!” Nyla interrupted before he could touch. “That one is Lilah, she’s the gardener for the estate.”

A little thing like her? The whole estate? Using the machinery needed to keep up with a yard this big, no wonder she was covered in injuries! She was way too small to be handling stuff that could hurt her like this!

“Nice to meet you, Lilah,” Galo said gently, extending his hand again, just as slow and careful as the first time. Lilah sank to one knee, almost as fluid as Nyla, and kissed his palm, which. Alright! Cool! Sure! Maybe Auntie Bethany had gotten Nyla and Lilah together?

Galo gave her a single, quick pat on her head, not wanting a repeat of whatever distress he’d caused Nyla in the foyer. Lilah was tan and freckled, with sunbleached brown hair, and wow, yikes, she was so small. Galo swallowed and turned to the next person in the lineup.

“Greyson,” Galo greeted with a smile. He looked a lot like he had when Galo was younger, just sorta gaunt now. Reddish-brown hair that was only just starting to sprout a handful of gray hairs, tall and skinny with knobby hands. “Remember me?”

“I do, Master Galo,” Greyson said with a bow, hand raised to his chest, and Galo chuckled.

“Good to see you again, dude. It’s been years,” Galo said, leaving his hands in his pockets. He’d already met this guy, however long ago that it might have been.

“It has, Master, I am delighted to see you again,” Greyson said, monotone and still bowing, but Galo was inclined to believe him. Greyson had always been like this, as near as he remembered.

“Look a little different than last time, huh?” Galo asked with a proud grin. Greyson lifted his head and quirked a very, very small smile of his own.

“I believe you’ve put some weight on, Master.”

Galo made note of how everyone else in the room tensed up at Greyson’s words, but he also laughed. “You bet I have,” Galo bragged, flexing an impressive bicep, before taking a mental red sharpie and writing DON’T DO THAT around the action in big letters. Lilah looked like she might cry.

He’d have to catch up with Greyson later. Or, well, get to know the guy? He hadn’t had much interest in the man when he was a kid, more preoccupied with the pool and old movie collection. He turned to the next person, a man closer to his own age.

“What’s your name?” Galo asked, calm, friendly smile that he used during work on his face.

“Evan, if it please you.” Evan had fluffy dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and strong, handsome features.

God, everyone here was really formal. Greyson, he got. Again, the man had always been like that, but man. They sounded like they all came out of those weird books Auntie Bethany was always reading.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Evan,” Galo said, doing a little wordplay, and Evan lowered his eyes deferentially. Galo lifted his hand to maybe clap him on the shoulder or rub at his own hair or something, but Evan knelt mid-motion and kissed Galo’s hand and okay! Maybe his aunt had been the one with the hand-kissing-thing after all. That was weird as hell to think about, and Galo was gonna try not to.

“This is Sasha, Master,” Nyla stated when Galo turned to the last person in the room, a woman with thick, curly, dark hair and wide blue eyes. She was pale as a ghost. “If you will allow it, she does not speak very well, and I am capable of speaking for her, Master.”

“Okay, sure,” Galo said, not going to push too hard for information on that. And he wasn’t, like, gonna tell them no, either. If this was what made them comfortable, then alright, he could deal with that. “Nice to meet you, Sasha, you don’t need to kiss my hand.”

Sasha nodded tensely, and ugh, maybe he should have let her? Now she was the odd one out. Well, Greyson hadn’t either, so…

Nope, don’t overthink it. Galo could tell there was going to be plenty for him to overthink, moving forward, and he needed to get into the habit of cutting that in the bud right now.

“Alright, so, nice to meet you all,” he already said that. “I’m new, and I’m gonna be honest, the fanciest thing I’ve ever owned is my computer rig, so I’m probably gonna make a couple mistakes in the whole… running an estate, thing, at first. You’re all allowed and encouraged to make suggestions or tell me if I’m doing something stupid on accident, okay?”

It didn’t look like that was okay at all, but Nyla nodded with a “Yes Master” anyway so eh, Galo would take it.

What should he say now? Telling them they were dismissed would make him feel like a hoity toity jackass, but it also felt kind of lame to just… leave it at that. “I’m also a little slow,” he warned, “so please be patient with me. Sometimes I need an extra couple of seconds to think things through.”

“Understood, Master,” Nyla answered again, Evan swallowing nervously at Galo’s words. Yeah, he was definitely going to have to make physical lists of weird observations. Everyone here looked like they had trauma they were processing. Yikes. His aunt was hardly a philanthropist; why would she take in this many skittish people?

His stomach ended up saving him from further floundering, gurgling loudly. Lunch had been so long ago...

“Master, may we prepare dinner for you?” Nyla asked, swaning down to her knees and bowing her head low.

“Yeah, actually, that’d be great. I’m allergic to mushrooms so nothing with those, please.”

“Yes, Master. Is there anything you’d prefer tonight?”

Hm. They seemed to like direction, and giving them a solid lead would probably be kinder than forcing them to think for themselves and worry about what he did or didn’t like. But at the same time, he had no idea what his aunt kept stocked.

“How about pasta with white sauce?” he suggested. Open ended, basic ingredients that they were pretty much guaranteed to have, and easy to make. And relatively quick; he was hungry.

“As you wish, Master.”

“Cool. I’m gonna start going through my aunt’s stuff. Lemme know when it’s ready.”

Galo left the den with a “Yes Master” chasing his heels, and rubbed at the back of his neck. Goddamn, these people were not having a great time. But that was okay. Galo was confident he could help.

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endless-whump · 4 years

Text

Marcus and Luca: Lost and Found

CW: references to box boy whump, environmental whump involving minor, referenced threats to minor, conditioning,

Masterpost

Simon and Oliver are box boys from my other series, We’re Ok

----

Luca shot up, panicked. He was shaking, looking around wildly at his surroundings. He reached around for Marcus. He needed to find Marcus. He could still practically feel the teens cold skin, remember trying to shake him awake.

“Hey, hey calm down. You’re ok, buddy.”

He pressed himself against the headboard, finding himself wrapped in..blankets? He was on a bed, under heavy, warm comforters. He shivered, resisting the urge to pull the blankets back towards him. There was a woman sitting across from him, watching him cautiously with her hands in front of her to look non threatening.

“W,Where’s, where’s Marcus, where’s M,Marcus-”

“Shh, the kid’s ok,” The woman soothed. Y’looked half dead, washed up on that riverbank.”

There was a fire crackling, a wood stove close beside the bed in the small room. Despite the room itself being extremely warm, Luca felt chilled, slowly trying to relax and eyeing the stranger. She looked middle aged, had a friendly expression that didn’t seem threatening to Luca.

“I, um, where is he?” He asked, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. He’d gone below the water, he couldn’t stay afloat..he’d lost him. He’d lost him and then found him on the shore, unmoving and possibly not even breathing.

“He’s in a different bedroom, he got sick and we had to-”

“S,Sick?” Luca demanded, trying to push the blankets off him, ignoring the pain in his head as he swung his legs over the side, the room spinning a little. “H,He’s sick, I thought he, I thought h,he was ok, I need to see him, I thought, I thought he was ok?”

“Easy, kid.” She reached out a hand to steady him, stopping when he cringed away. “His fever broke yesterday, Marcus is fine.”

“I, I want to see him,” Luca demanded, close to tears. He needed to see the teenager, he needed to know he was ok.

He needed to know he didn’t get Marcus killed.

“You can go see him, I just need to make sure you don’t topple over on the way,” The woman scoffed. ‘Let me help?”

Luca paused for a moment, looking her up and down, hesitating. He shakily reached out a hand to take hers, letting her pull him to his feet and provide support as he got his balance. His legs felt shaky, every inch of him sore, but he ignored it in favor of focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, staring hard at the floor.

The woman helped him out of the bedroom, taking them around a corner, but Luca paid little attention to the hallway. He just needed to get to Marcus.

She stopped, opening a door and helping Luca into a small, cozy looking bedroom, similar to the one he was in. There were two twin sized beds against the corners of the room, both covered in comforters, one empty and one...one had Marcus.

Luca stumbled forward, ignoring the woman’s rebuke as he grabbed onto the footboard of Marcus’s bed, sitting down heavily on it.

“He’s asleep.” She said gently, watching them. “He dislocated his shoulder and I think bruised a rib, but he’s looking mostly ok, besides the damage from the cold and water itself, that is. He got hypothermia, naturally, and we think pneumonia was why he got sick.” She sighed, tilting her head and smiling a little, sadly. “He was asking for you. I’m..gonna take a wild guess that you aren’t his brother, considering what the news is saying about you,”

Luca’s head snapped up to look at her, terror running through his veins. He leaned over Marcus protectively, almost feeling feral. He was not letting them take him. He wasn’t planning on letting Marcus anywhere out of his sight now that they were together.

“Calm down, if I was gonna turn you guys in I would’ve done it by now, don’t you think?” She said calmly, leaning against the doorframe. Luca didn’t move away from Marcus, instead settling down next to him and looking over the boy anxiously. His shoulder was wrapped to support it, bruises running along almost all the visible skin showing above the blankets.

“C,Can I stay with him?” He asked quietly.

“Of course, hun.” The woman said softly, smiling. “I’m Marie,”

Luca looked up at her, the need to be able to trust someone ruling over the uncertainty.

“I’m Luca,” He murmured, looking back at Marcus.

“Luca,” Marie repeated, like she was testing the name. “Well, Luca, welcome to our safehouse.”

Maria let him stay with Marcus, although she insisted he get in bed too to rest. So he stared at the door long after she left, feeling like a horse ready to spook as he curled up next to the teenager. He didn’t dare touch him much, not with him hurt, but his head just almost on Marcus's shoulder and a hand touching his shirt just a little was enough to reassure him. Listening to his soft, even breaths, the gentle rise and fall of his chest and shoulders, was enough.

Marie came in a few times to check on them, finding them in the same spot each time. Luca refused to leave Marcus’s side all night, curled close to him under the blankets. He still felt awful himself, limbs aching unbearably, and he found himself dozing next to Marcus even as he tried to stay awake. He’d sleep just for a minute. Maybe a few minutes.

Luca’s eyes blinked open, sunlight coming in through the curtains in the bedroom, illuminating the small space. He hadn’t meant to sleep, just rested his eyes, he thought. Luca groaned, going to burrow himself further under the blankets but stopped, looking down. Marcus has turned around, tucked close to Luca’s chest with his small arms holding on tightly. The teenager was still asleep as far as Luca could tell, clinging to him fiercely.

I used to hold her like this,

He blinked, the thought seeming to come out of nowhere. A flash of soft, sunset orange, a child’s laugh, birthday candles and thunder and wrapping someone in a blanket and telling them everything was gonna be ok-

And then, as quick as it had come, it was gone.

Luca fought hard to grasp onto the memory, onto that image, but it slipped right through his fingers as if he was trying to grab hold of water. For a reason Luca couldn’t quite understand, tears filled his eyes as he stared at the wall, feeling like he’d suffered a huge loss that he couldn’t even pinpoint.

“Luca?”

His eyes snapped down to Marcus, the boy blinking tiredly up at him. His voice was wavering, almost unsure.

“A,are you, um, are you real?”

The question made Luca tilt his head in slight confusion, watching Marcus carefully.

“A,am I..real?” Luca repeated. “I, um, I think so?”

A small, tired smile formed on Marcus’s face, and he hugged Luca tightly, burying his face against his chest. Hesitantly, Luca wrapped his arms around the boy and hugged him close, and the other melted into it.

Somehow this felt familiar, like the memory. It was gone now, so Luca opted to hold on tight to Marcus, hoping with all his heart that he wouldn’t slip away again, like that distant memory.

He jumped at a soft knock at the door, looking up to see Marie. Subconsciously he pulled Marcus closer to him, still defensive.

“Just came to see if you guys wanted to come down for breakfast,” She called softly. “We’ve got a few other runaways here, and Mia made some breakfast.”

Luca looked down at the teen, who seemed to know who she was talking about. Marcus nodded, pushing the blankets off them and trying to swing his legs over the bed. Luca observed the dark bruises lining his legs and arms, wincing. He was sure he had his fair share of his own, from the aching feeling, but he didn’t bother checking under the long sleeves or sweatpants.

Marie smiled and let them follow her down the stairs, Marcus close beside Luca and holding onto his sleeve. Being significantly smaller and shorter than the escaped box boy, Marcus was able to easily hide himself behind the other.

It was hard to walk but they managed, making their way down the stairs and into the kitchen where there was rowdy conversation going on. There was laughter, the scraping of chairs against the wood floor, the smell of freshly made food.

There were more people than Luca expected in the kitchen, and he almost took a step back before they spotted him. The room went quiet, eyes turning to them as they stood in the doorway.

“Everyone, this is Luca and Marcus,” Marie smiled, then pointed at a tan woman at the stove, dishing up plates. “That's my wife, Mia, we run the safehouse together. The rascals at the table are Kendric, Ari, and Simon. We have a few more, but they might just be sleeping in.”

Kendric, a tall blonde, waved and smiled, holding a mug of coffee and sitting at the table next to Simon, who matched him in height but had a lot larger build. They both looked friendly, though. Ari barely spared them a glance, working intently on a puzzle laid out on the table .

“Come have a seat, we’ll get some food for you guys,” Mia welcomed them in, gesturing to some empty seats. “Simon, where’s Oliver? He didn’t eat dinner last night, he needs to get down here and get some food.”

Luca sat down hesitantly, Marcus slipping into the chair beside him. They barely had time to blink before plates were set in front of them, eggs and biscuits with gravy looking irresistible.

“He’s upstairs, he was having some issues last night and I finally got him asleep a few hours ago,” Simon said quietly, leaning back in his chair as he ate his own food. “I’ll bring him some when he wakes up, he needs sleep right now.”

Mia just nodded, turning back to her work. Marie had taken a spot next to her, observing the group.

“So, um, where are we?” Marcus asked hesitantly, leaning close to Luca. Kendric kept glancing at them, veiled curiosity in his eyes.

“A few hours north of Pittsburg,” Mia answered. “You two took quite the dip in the river, that's for sure. Marie had insisted looking around for you guys after all that shit in the news, you’ve got people looking all over the place for you.”

“So..um..are we putting you guys in danger, being here?” The teen paused as he asked the question, fear in his voice.”

“Not any more than we already are,” She said softly, gesturing to the others at the table. “Everyone here right now except for myself was a rescue. Even Marie, at one point.”

Luca looked up, mind racing at the idea.

“You guys were all…” He wasn’t sure how to finish the question.

Simon was the first one to move, pulling down his sleeve and showing Luca the barcode on the inside of his wrist. Luca stared at it, fork in hand.”

“We’re like you, Luca.” He said softly. “You’re safe here, promise. You can stay as long as you want.”

“We can’t,” Marcus blurted. “We..we can't stay, we have to get to the border, there’s people waiting for us.”

Mia frowned, leaning against the counter. “No offense, but you’re a teenager, and something tells my Luca might not be-“

“All box boys are of consenting age,” Luca cut in, and Simon winced.

“Yea, we know,” she sighed, not pushing it. “The point is, we’re in the middle of winter, you’ve got police after you, and you really expect us to let you guys go wandering in an attempt to get to Canada? Do you guys even have passports?”

Marcus looked down, fidgeting at the corner of the table.

“No,” he admitted quietly.

“Besides, both of you are hurt. If Canada is an end goal, that’s fine, but you can’t expect us to let two kids walk out into that kind of environment.”

The teenager huffed, slumping down in his chair. Luca didn’t miss the way he grit his teeth and winced when his shoulder moved, but he just shook his head when Luca tried to say something.

They ate quietly, but Luca quickly found himself getting nervous. He was trying to understand Marcus’s plan, and now it..wasn’t happening. Would they stay here? Were they stuck? Would they get found?

In the background of his mind he could still feel the cold water around him, could remember Marcus’s body laid on the shore, unmoving. He could still hear the scream as they hit the ice, the way Marcus struggled to hold onto him as they sank below the water and were torn apart.

He could hear Eugene’s voice right next to his ear, hands pinning him to the wall and eyes turning to Marcus..he couldn’t let Marcus get caught in danger and Marcus wasn’t moving and-

“Luca?”

He flinched when someone touched his arm, blinking and seeing Marcus staring at him. Everyone around the table was observing him quietly, a curious, pitying look in their eyes.

“S,sorry,” he murmured.

“You’re fine,” Mia reassured warmly. She was quiet for a moment, considering them. “We have quite a few connections and are near the border, can I get a name? I could probably get a message up there and make arrangements for you two to get transport.”

That caught both their attention.

“Really? You could do that?” Marcus asked, stifled excitement in his voice.

“Maybe,” Mia emphasized. “We sometimes get rescues across the border, but it's not easy, and your faces are plastered all over the state. We’ll let things cool off for a bit after that bridge stunt of yours, and I’ll try and pull some strings.”

“Thank you, oh thank you Mia,” Marcus was up now, wrapping his arms around Mia and hugging her tightly. She chuckled, ruffling the teens hair playfully. “Don’t strain your shoulder, kiddo. And you’re welcome.”

Luca eyed the other apparent runaways, still feeling defensive. Simon was gathering a plate of food as he talked to Kendric, and in the back of his mind he made the connection it must have been for the other, Oliver.

Despite his nervousness and uncertainty, something told Luca these people were genuine, these people were safe. Marcus seemed to think so, at least, and Luca could trust that. He trusted Marcus.

He continued eating his food, trying to let his worries slip to the back of his mind. Marcus was ok, they were going to be ok. Luca wanted to protect the teenager, but knew Marcus knew more than him. He trusted him to have a plan to get them out, to get them free.

They were going to Canada

----

Tag list

@haro-whumps@spiffythespook@simplygrimly@insanitywishes@lonesome--hunter@deluxewhump@elisabethrosewrites@insanitywishes@iaminamoodymoodtoday @bleeding-demon-teeth @lumpofwhump@redstainedsocks @finder-of-rings

#whump #rescued #found #caretaker #hypothermia #drowned #environmental whump #Marcus and luca #my writing #my oc's #whumpee #memories #recovered memories #Simon and oliver #crossover #new oc's

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bereft-of-frogs · 4 years

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maharlika replied to your post “writing update: - I finished the second to last chapter of the next...”

medieval fantasy AU? ��

ok so

I’m calling it a ‘medieval-ish fantasy AU’ because it is not going to be in any way shape or form historically accurate. like, I’m putting about 0 effort into historical accuracy. straight up none. even when I’m vaguely referencing real historical things or like, getting inspiration from real history books, etc...it’s not going to be right. (I genuinely had a second today where I was like ‘...wait that book I’m referencing is about the Renaissance...and the quote I’m using for the title is from the 19th century.........eh, fuck it.’) (I’m the best historian.)

It’s basically an excuse to have Thor be vaguely a landholder/minor lord and Loki is a witch and they’re like...disgraced/fallen minor nobility who don’t really have any more real political power especially since their parents died and their lands were absorbed by an empire, but they’re still living in this crumbling grand house on a hill and townsfolk are vaguely afraid of them but also come to Loki for fortune-telling and spells and such and still show Thor some respect because his father had been the last true ruler. so there’s like this sense of them being held apart from the general population by both fear and awe and also a sense of old ways of life coming to an end and they’re really not sure where they fit in the new society.

The vague aesthetic idea has existed in my brain for a while and then I decided to write “short” “plotless” whump set in the general AU but suddenly it was 8k and had grown a plot and a bunch of worldbuilding.

Hela is probs going to become involved and some point.

So is Valkyrie.

Others tbd.

It’s going to be a Hot Mess, but I’m sort of in love with it.

#maharlika #yes I was going to go to bed like an hour ago but I got distracted #the medieval-ish fantasy AU #the worldbuilding is definitely in early stages and also it's 230 in the morning forgive me #stuff def needs to get ironed out #it might not in this 'plotless whump' fic #but it's fine i'll figure it out

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ao3feed-destiel-02 · 1 year

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#IFTTT #AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester'#Destiel #ao3feed #ao3feed Destiel #Destiel fanfic #Dean Winchester/Castiel #Castiel/Dean Winchester #Dean x Castiel #Castiel x Dean

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

You’re Singing To: Peter and Henry

This is a short piece and a good morning gift for @spiffythespook! Her OC Henry and my OC Peter, just having a moment. CW for references to pet whump and two guys being absolute idiots about each other.

Peter had come in to ask Henry a question - somehow, he’d ended up lying on his back on Henry’s bedroom floor instead.

His knees were up and bent so his feet were flat on the floor, half-dozing in a loose long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants with his hands folded over his stomach while Henry laid on his stomach and looked through a book or something up on his bed.

Henry was humming to himself, and Peter didn’t know this song - maybe it was a new one, a song he was writing - but it was soft, and kept him lulled in his doze. The notes Henry was humming skipped up and down in a complicated rhythm, one that Henry never missed a beat on but Peter could never have come up with it.

Sounded like something he was writing - it didn’t sound like any music Peter had ever heard, anyway… and besides, Henry wrote music constantly now, scribbling bars and thoughts down on every spare scrap of paper, playing a little on the piano as he walked past it, losing himself in hours of vocal and piano practice, even beyond what Karen required.

His voice was stronger than ever, but every song he sang was laced with a wounded emotion Peter knew Karen couldn’t hear.

Peter could hear it, though, which was why he was lying on the floor of Henry’s room in the first place. Henry had been humming something sad when Peter had originally walked in.

The song wasn’t sad any longer, but the thing about Henry was that he didn’t really talk much. You had to just be around him for a while, and wait, and maybe eventually he’d answer your questions with more than a single syllable in reply.

“What are you doing?” He asked, without opening his eyes.

“Math,” Henry replied.

Well, okay. Maybe he hadn’t been in here long enough yet.

Peter crooked one eye open to look over and up. Henry was chewing on the end of a pencil, his eyes focused on the book open in front of him. Those eyes flickered to Peter’s, briefly, and for a second Peter felt like something caught him, in a way he didn’t understand.

Then Henry looked away, and the feeling was gone.

“You’re doing math?” Peter asked, certain he’d heard wrong but also just wanting Henry to look at him again, for reasons he couldn’t really name or explain. “On purpose? For fun?”

“I like math,” Henry said flatly. “It gives my brain something to do. I like figuring things out. The library has the textbooks for the classes I was-” His voice caught.

Peter watched the shadow that went across Henry’s face and then was gone, buried behind the mask of calm apathy that Henry wore like armor.

“I had this whole plan… I was going to major in math, and minor in music when I went to college, so I could still keep learning all the things I love, and I just…” Henry frowned and leaned over, scribbling something on a piece of paper, never taking his eyes off the book. “I had a plan, before… this. This was going to be one of the classes I took my freshman year.”

Before she put a collar on me and told me I wasn’t going anywhere.

“I probably had a plan, too,” Peter said, with a shrug. He didn’t know, actually, if he would have had a plan. The contract he’d signed said he was eighteen, but he wasn’t, and they all knew it. Dex had told him, once, that he was sixteen years old still when he was taken into training. That was illegal, that was a crime, but who do you tell?

Call the WRU hotline, Peter thought, and caught a cynical little snicker before it made it out of his mouth. Oh, Madam would love that. What she did to Dex would look like Ring-Around-the-Rosey compared to how she’d react if I called and reported her to her own company.

Henry was looking at him when he opened his eyes again, pencil flat on the paper. “What? What are you laughing about?”

A bit of his red hair had fallen over his forehead, and Peter’s eyes were stuck there for a second, and his fingers twitched. He wanted… something, some vague ill-defined something that he couldn’t seem to hold onto long enough to name it. He felt like this around Henry all the time now, itchy and impatient but not knowing what he was waiting for.

“Nothing,” Peter answered, with a shrug. “Just thinking about, um, how Madam would react if I called her hotline to report that she got me underage.”

Henry snorted. “‘All pets are of legal and consenting age,’” He recited, matching Karen’s tone of voice exactly, and the two of them grinned at each other. “God, even I had to memorize that, and I didn’t even have to do training. Everything they make you guys memorize is just one more big lie.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m sure something they taught me is true,” Peter said, faintly, trying to think. He didn’t remember training very well - white walls and white lights and pain and dizzy and sick. Defiance and fear, until he’d been sent to Karen herself as a gift, half-broken and still spitting curses.

Throwing up the meat she fed him, again and again, until finally all it did was hurt him, and he could keep it down.

Peter pushed himself to his feet, and Henry watched him, shifting slightly to lay more on his side. “Are you leaving?”

“No, I’m going to steal your stuff,” Peter said cheerfully, ducking into Henry’s closet. “I don’t get any fancy clothes like you do, I want to look at them.”

“Yeah, go ahead. At least I get to dress nicely,” Henry muttered, penciling the answer to a new question on his paper. His voice became a little muffled as Peter went into Henry’s walk-in closet, the second-largest closet in the house after Karen’s own. On one side, Henry’s casual clothes - button-downs neatly pressed and hung, even his jeans were hung on hangers folded in half, not that he ever really wore them. Folded sweaters in a special dresser just for them. A line of shoes, mostly leather and Karen made Peter be the one to shine everyone’s leather shoes.

“I wish I knew why she hates me so much,” Peter mumbled, looking at the line of suit jackets on the other side, all in colors Karen had chosen for Henry. He and Henry were almost the same size - Peter was on the shorter side, and Sebastian had said once or twice that the Facility training had probably made him skip his last growth spurt, if he was going to have one. He and Henry were almost the same size.

He found one of his favorites of Henry’s - a deep blue but with a kind of pattern in the weave of the fabric, lighter blues that melded and blended and Henry looked amazing in this one, under the performance lights. The last really big WRU party, some kind of charity fundraiser, Henry had worn this one to play piano and sing, and Peter had watched him all night and thought about how nice the blue looked with his red hair.

“I’m really glad you kept your brain,” Peter called out, as he pulled the jacket off its hanger, feeling his fingers slide over the soft fabric, the satin-y lining inside. A secret pocket, with-

There was a piece of paper in Henry’s little secret suit pocket, and Peter swallowed. He… probably shouldn’t have, but he pulled the folded piece of notebook paper out, looking at it.

“Are you?” Henry answered, his own voice slightly sardonic, calm as always. “Because it means I do math for fun, which I think officially makes me the most boring person who lives in this house.”

“You’re not boring,” Peter said, a little defensively, and unfolded the paper to look down at it.

He blinked at what he saw, written in Henry’s careful, angular handwriting, black ink on what paper with blue lines.

Breathe, Henry. It was a note he had written to himself, apparently, to have on-hand for the last performance he had given. Never let them see you care. You’re not singing for them. You don’t sing for her. She isn’t the reason.

You’re singing to Peter.

He swallowed, but it felt like his throat had closed, and he swallowed reflexively, again and again staring in silence down at the paper. At the same time a flush of prickly, strange heat seemed to settle along just under his skin, goosebumps raising and then settling and what did that mean, you’re singing to Peter?

Henry was talking, but there was a rush of sound in Peter’s head and he didn’t hear it. After a pause, memorizing the words Henry had written, Peter folded the paper back up and slid it back into the pocket, a secret to be kept by both of them from each other.

Then he slid the jacket on over his shirt, feeling the slippery-slide movement of the silk lining, the slight weight of the heavier fabric as it settled over his shoulders.

“Hey, did you hear me or not?” Henry asked from outside, and Peter wondered if he was blushing, because his face felt suddenly too warm, uncomfortably flushed. He shook himself like a dog shakes off water, raked a hand back through his short dark hair, and stepped out of the closet.

“No, I didn’t. What’d you say?” Peter asked, tilting his head.

Henry didn’t answer, just stared at him in the suit jacket, slowly pushing himself up to sitting, his eyes traveling over Peter’s shoulders, the way a curl of dark hair rested over the back of the jacket’s neckline, down over his chest and his stomach and then back up to his face.

Peter saw Henry swallow, too.

They met eyes, for just a second, and something felt wrong and terribly right, and Peter was worried if he took a step he’d keep walking right to the bed. Henry didn’t like to be touched, and so Peter mostly didn’t, but he didn’t always mind if Peter was the one who touched him - to ruffle his hair or hug him when he was scared, to hold him when he cried for Dex’s injuries or for his own lost future.

Henry’s eyes locked on his, and the moment drew out. Seconds where neither of them moved. Then Henry cleared his throat. “I said-… I want you to-” Henry’s voice cracked, and he looked away.

The moment broke.

Peter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“I said, um,” Henry said softly, “That we should go downstairs for lunch pretty soon. Are you going to take Dex some of yours, or should I take him some of mine?”

Look at me again.

“I’ll take him mine,” Peter said, his own voice low. He wanted to take the jacket off and he didn’t, because it kind of smelled like the cologne Henry wore when he did performances for Karen’s friends, and the smell around him made him feel almost light-headed, not quite drunk with it… not that he knew what being drunk felt like.

Please look at me again.

Henry nodded, pushing himself up off the bed, pushing the hair back from over his forehead. “I’ll go ask Seb what we’re having. Probably soup again, Dex mostly eats soup right now, so-”

“Henry.”

Henry froze, his eyes on the wall and not on Peter. “What?”

Look at me again, I want to see if you look the same this time, just look at me.

“How… how do I look in your suit?” Peter’s voice was nervous and a little weak, deeper than he meant it to be but shaking at the same time. Too nervous to hold it back, to not show it. He’d never had Henry’s gift for hiding, Peter’s thoughts were out in the open.

Henry looked at him, but only sidelong, like he was afraid to look him in the eyes again. “You, uh-… you look good,” He said brusquely, and then pushed past Peter and headed out the door. Peter stood there, in Henry’s room, listening to the sound of Henry’s feet on the stairs.

He felt himself sink, and closed his eyes against the sensation of a nervous stone, cold and heavy, taking up residence inside of him where the hint of excited hope had been before.

Peter slid the suit jacket off and neatly laid it on Henry’s bed, letting his fingertips linger on the fabric just over the secret pocket, where the folded note was hidden inside. Maybe it hadn’t meant what he’d thought it had. Henry was too private, he lived inside his head and even Peter didn’t really know what he was thinking most of the time. He didn’t like to be touched, and he wasn’t-… Peter was maybe just too lonely, here.

Reading into things.

He was really good at that, Peter thought, although he didn’t know where the thought came from, or the certainty. He’d been good at reading into things, before.

He hesitated, leaned over to take one last breath of the smell of the cologne that lingered, caught in the fabric and giving off the slightest hint of the way Henry smelled when he sang. Henry didn’t like to be touched, and what Peter thought he’d seen in Henry’s face couldn’t possibly be real.

Just wishful thinking.

He did a lot of that kind of thinking around Henry, now.

Then Peter straightened himself up and headed out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He could hear Henry talking to Sebastian downstairs - his voice was calm and even without even a hint of the hesitation, the little bit of shake, that Peter had just heard.

Peter stood at the top of the stairs, wanting badly to go down there but wanting to be anywhere else, both at the same time. Then he sighed and turned, heading across the hall and to the right instead.

He’d check in on Dex, and maybe by the time he went back downstairs he wouldn’t be blushing, he wouldn’t feel so constricted by his own skin, and he wouldn’t want so badly to see Henry look at him like that again.

You’re singing to Peter.

Maybe by the time he went downstairs, he’d stop thinking that that note had to mean something that it couldn’t possibly actually mean.

Something he wanted it to mean so badly it hurt.

#henry: better off #peter: courage #drabble #pet whump #referenced pet whump #referenced whump involving a minor #but no actual whump #but two guys #being idiots #about each other #original fiction #someone has a cruuuuush #it's both of them #they both do #captivity #conditioning #forced ingestion of meat #box boy #box boy universe

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