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whumpacabra · 15 hours

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Alex & Friends Part 18-Bad News 2

*smiling like a idiot*

cw: mentions of vomit, panic attack aftermath

Joseph wasn’t really prepared for what he saw when the bathroom door opened. Judging from the noises coming from behind the door, it wasn’t going to be pretty, but it was far worse than he anticipated.

Alex was crying, breaths fast and uneven, body quivering. Her eyes were red, tears still streaming down her face. The bathroom reeked of vomit, the pungent odor stabbing at his nostrils as he took in the scene.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped, voice quiet and shaky. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” He assured her, quickly closing the door behind him.

“I..I can’t do it again,” She wheezed, eyes wide with fear. “I can't.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” He didn’t really know what she meant by that, but panic attacks weren’t renowned for being easily comprehensible. “Do you want something to drink?”

Alex nodded, but didn’t say anything. It seemed like she was only half present.

“Why don’t you have a seat on the toilet, okay?” He said as he dodged the vomit that was pooled in the sink and started to ll up a plastic cup.

She carefully lowered herself down, reaching a hand out behind her to steady herself. The bright lights of the bathroom made the bags under her eyes even more pronounced as he handed the cup to her. Her hands shook as she took the cup, water vibrating as she put it to her lips.

“There you go.” He leaned back against the wall opposite to the toilet to give her some space. “That better?”

She hummed in the affirmative, slowly drinking the water he’d given her. Her breaths were starting even out, and the flow of tears was finally slowing. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“No problem,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

A beat of silence passed before she spoke again. “Well that fucking sucked.” She let out a half-hearted chuckle.

“I bet,” he nodded. The room still reeked of vomit, and her shirt had been stained in a couple of places by the offending liquid.

She gripped the counter for extra stability as she stood. “I’m gonna need a new shirt,” she said while she turned the water on to wash the vomit out of the sink.

“Where are your shirts? I can go and get you one.” He used his foot to push himself o the wall.

“They should be by everyone else’s stuff. Think the bags purple.” She said as she lathered her hands in soap.

Just before he turned to leave, he remembered something. “It’s okay if you want to wait a little longer, but I do need to change your bandages. Can I go get stuff for that?”

Alex seemed to lag for a second before responding, but her face remained still. “Yeah, that’d be fine.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said before he reached for the handle.

He was greeted by Eric standing directly in front of, arm raised as if he was about to knock. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Joseph asked, a little confused.

“There's something you need to see.” Eric’s tone was filled with urgency.

Leaving the bathroom door open behind him, he quickly walked over to Teri’s computer. The rest of the team was clustered around it, but they moved to the side so he could see. Teri turned the volume up.

“If you’re just tuning in, convicted supervillain Albert Zorland has escaped. He, along with several henchmen, have barricaded themselves on a pier. They are holding a hero hostage, and are demanding that Olena Lepshev, who he claims to be an INSUPA operative, hand herself over, in return for the hero’s release.”

Zorland had captured a hero. Fuck.

The feed cut to a picture of the captured hero and Joseph's heart sank. The hero’s their whole body was covered with blood. Even with their face masked, Joseph knew exactly who it was.

Phoenix.

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump

#whump #heroes and villains #panic attacks #vomit mention #hostage situations #others ocs #alex & friends #OH NO OH NO NO NO NO I DONT LIKE THAT #I’ve seen phoenix in your posts here and there but uh. it feels like that’s a VERY BAD thing😰#EVIL author. EVIL. 10.000 reblogs for you!

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whumpacabra · 2 days

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The whumpee had been specially trained to be the whumper’s attack dog- someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill in the name of the whumper. While the whumper knew the whumpee’s loyalty was forced upon them, they still liked to reward them, just to balance out the constant punishment.

#whump #whump prompt #living weapon #conditioning #loyalty #hollowed tag

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whumpacabra · 2 days

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The L word

@whumpingmydarlings, @jo-castle, @maxclaims, @tombwriter13. @prodigywhump, @realcanadianmoose @grettiwrites, @bloodyfeverdreams, @darthsutrich, @empathetic-whumper, @burtlederp @whumperflies

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Jack managed to find a safe and comfortable way to sleep on his side, Sylvia had tentatively agreed to be the little spoon. It would help support his wound, he said. She rolled her eyes and agreed but adjusted the pillows and kept a safe distance to avoid leaning on him. And he fell back into a boring sleep.

For once, Jack was not dreaming about witnessing a murder or his own attempted murder. For once it was just something harmlessly bizarre. Talking trees in the halls of his high school and then what seemed like an endless journey through some twisted amalgamation of all the buildings he’d ever been to. Certainly odd, but in no way disturbing. Until he was gently disturbed by the woman next to him. Instinctively he pulled her closer.

Keep reading

#whump #heroes and villains #recovery #nightmares #past trauma #others ocs #Jack and Simone series #syllllllllll :(#hmmm I wonder what Jack bought her….

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whumpacabra · 3 days

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need him broken and bloody and bruised. need him dragging himself forward across a cold, unforgiving floor. need threatening footsteps just a pace behind him. need his ribs heaving while he struggles to drag in raspy breath. need his eyes glassy and shadowed.

#whump #whump tropes #beatings #crawling #anticipated violence #difficulty breathing #*giggling and kicking my feet*

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whumpacabra · 3 days

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Alex & Friends Part 17-Bad News 1

the plot thickens!

cw: panic attacks, trauma, fear of death and retribution, emeto

A news anchor chattered away in the background while the team ate lunch. Teri had turned the volume down as low as she could, but she was hoping that the local heroes would release a statement with maybe some more information about future attacks. She’d also decimated a bowl of edamame all by herself. “Research munchies'' was what she’d called it.

The room had relaxed since the mission. They’d be hunkered down until Rudick deemed it safe, and it would probably be a while. Eric had been working on finding more permanent accommodation, but for now, the Upstairs would be their home. Alex didn’t mind. For pub fare, the food was half decent.

Aarav was out cold on one of the bunks, his gentle snoring drowned out by the spirited conversation that Sil and Avia were having in a language that was decidedly not english. Eric was sat next to Teri. He looked over her shoulder occasionally, but he was mainly focused on his meal.

“Hey, Joseph,” He said, waving his hand, “Arm good?”

Joseph nodded. “All stitched up. Ravenous though.”

“There's more of the chicken skewers from last night!” Avia chimed in. “They made extra.”

Alex slowly sat down at the table, grabbing one of the skewers. The meat was relatively tender and not too dry, and she quickly snarfed it down. The noise of the room faded into the background. It wasn’t even all that loud, it was just more than she was used to. It was like the music at a store-you tuned it out.

“Quiet down, we're on,” Teri said, and the room fell silent as she turned up the volume on the broadcast. A musical hook played, and then her computer screen was filled with the smiling face of the news anchor.

“I’m standing just outside of Greenwich park, where earlier this morning there was an altercation between three unidentified villains and one of London’s favorite heroes ‘The Spark’ and her team.”

The team clustered around the screen, watching headlines pass over the screen as the anchor reported in front of a mess of police lights and HAL vehicles in the background of the shot.

“Neither the Hero Alliance of London or INSUPA has released any details about the cause of the fight, though HAL has reported that there was minimal property damage and that no bystanders were harmed.”

Eric seemed to relax at that remark. HAL was being tight lipped as usual, but Teri was sure that some solid time messing around in their servers would be at least partially fruitful. The team had started to disperse when the transition graphics suddenly rolled, music blaring again.

“I come to you with breaking news.” A helicopter camera feed appeared split screen with the reporter. The Thames was centered, two boats speeding down the river, pursued by another HAL boat. “Supervillian Albert Zorland, kept incarcerated at the INSUPA London Centre, has escaped.”

Alex’s vision narrowed as she watched the newscast. No. He couldn’t be. A lump formed in her throat, and her lungs froze up. She couldn’t breathe.

He was going to come for her. He didn’t have to pay mercenaries anymore, he would hunt her down, find her, kill her, torture her, make her beg and cry. She was going to die. Fuck, she was going to die.

Tears started to well in her eyes, and her body was overtaken by the urge to run. The upstairs was small, and she didn’t really have anywhere to go. Her eyes focused on the bathroom door. That would work. Trying to look casual, she quickly walked to the restroom, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach.

She was able to quickly lock the door behind her before she was back there again, on that desolate street, knife in hand, watching helplessly. The hair on the back of her neck raised, and ice cold fear ran down her spine as she gripped the counter-top.

He was going to find her again, and he was going to kill her this time. She was going to die like her mother had, bleeding from a slit neck. The picture of blood trickling down her mother’s neck forced itself into her brain again. Dripping, and spurting and oozing until her eyes rolled back into her head and she crumbled. Bile started to rise in her throat, and she sucked in a panicked gasp before she vomited into the sink.

Throat burning, she tried to spit the taste of vomit out of her mouth. Tears started well in her eyes and she didn’t care enough to stop them. Images of Zorland’s dungeon invaded her thoughts. The damp smell of rot mixed with copper filled her nostrils. Her stomach turned, a wave of nausea washed over her, and she let out a strangled cry before she threw up again.

“Alex?” The door rattled as someone knocked on it. “It’s me, Joseph.”

When Alex heard the knocking on the door, she froze, still reeling from the paroxysm of vomiting. The pit in her stomach deepened. What was she supposed to do? He wasn’t going to go away. She had to say something.

“Alex?” He sounded worried.

The tears fell faster as she reached for the door, hands fumbling around the handle as she tried to undo the lock. She kept her head down as the door swung open, arms wrapped tightly around her belly.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, curling in on herself further. “I’m sorry.”

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump

#whump #heroes and villains #panic attacks #past trauma #anticipated stalking #anticipated violence #vomiting #crying #others ocs #alex & friends #:’( alexxxxx you’re gonna be okay. maybe. probably. in the short term at least.

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whumpacabra · 3 days

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When the caretaker, who lives with the whumpee, comes home after a long day, but the whumpee doesn’t greet them when they come in (even though they usually do). The caretaker calling for them, and searching the house, and not finding them, until they hear sobbing coming from one of the closets. The caretaker going and looking in the closet, and finding the whumpee curled up, crying and shaking. Them gently getting the whumpee’s attention, and then holding their arms out to them in an invitation for a hug. The whumpee glancing up at them with tear filled eyes, and then curling up in the caretaker’s arms. The caretaker still having no idea what’s going on, but just cradling the whumpee close and stroking their back, knowing that they can ask later, and that right now, the important thing is making sure the whumpee gets comfort.

#whump #whump prompt #angst #comfort #past trauma #crying #I wrote this for Jackson and East…still one of my fave scenes to imagine them in

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whumpacabra · 3 days

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Alex & Friends One Year Art!

@fishbait did these wonderful sketches of Alex and Joseph for the anniversary!

[Image ID: A traditional pencil sketch bust of a white woman. Her hair is in a ponytail, and her bangs are long and cover her eyes. Her expression is neutral. Written beside her his “Alex” and below that is “@fishbaitinc. /End ID]

[Image ID: A traditional pencil sketch bust of a white man. He has hair with a long top and short sides. His eyes are wider, but his expression is still pretty neutral. Written beside her his “Joseph” and below that is “@fishbaitinc.” /End ID]

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump @painful-pooch @rainbowsandwhumperflies @snaillamp

#whump #art #others ocs #alex & friends series #ooooo I love this style!!!! and eeeeee it’s them!!!! :D

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whumpacabra · 4 days

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Whumpee going to Caretaker's and not telling them about what happened. Does Caretaker even notice how different they're acting?

#whump #whump prompt #hidden injury #hidden trauma #mmmmm yup yup yup

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whumpacabra · 4 days

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Gossip-able

@whumpingmydarlings, @jo-castle, @maxclaims, @tombwriter13. @prodigywhump, @realcanadianmoose @grettiwrites, @bloodyfeverdreams, @darthsutrich, @empathetic-whumper, @burtlederp @whumperflies

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Sixteen years ago, after the sentencing

“He saved your life, Jack! Why can’t you see that?” Her tea towel thumping the counter for emphasis.

“He murdered that man, mom.” He shouted back, his voice echoing in the small kitchen. A different kitchen. One that no one had been murdered in. Far as he knew. “How the fuck can you still be on his side?”

“Don’t you cuss at me young man!” She said and threw the towel at the sink. Water sloshed over the edge and a plume of suds jumped out. “I know what he did. And if he hadn’t, I might have lost both of you.”

Keep reading

#whump #heroes and villains #angst #referenced character death #toxic family #recovery #pain medication #sleep #others ocs #Jack and Simone series #gossipabbablebable…..well that’s gonna get stuck in the echolalia loop for a while lol #and. ough. poor Jack.

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whumpacabra · 5 days

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thinking about the finding. oh yes the bruise-littered skin and rubbed-raw wrists and red-rimmed eyes, oh yes the shallow, pained breaths and semi-consciousness, in and out for the pain, but more acutely: the finding. the 'you are safe now' as well as the 'how do i touch you without hurting you'. the 'i'm here, and i'm sorry that i'm late'. you know

#whump #whump prompt #rescue #found #angst #comfort

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whumpacabra · 5 days

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Alex & Friends Part 16-Stitches

this one’s actually pretty sweet.

cw: graphic depictions of injuries and care of, stitches, touch of angst, medical stuff, caretaker turned whumpee

“What’d they do?” Eric asked as he tore open a package of gauze. The rest of the van was dead silent as they drove back, partially because everyone was exhausted, but also because Joseph had pulled out The Glare seemingly at random.

“Not my story to tell,” Joseph said simply. He grunted as Eric pressed the gauze onto the wound, then wrapped a bandage around it.

“You sure?” Eric tapped the bandage down. “If there's something I can do…” He’d known Joseph for nearly a decade, and that pissed off, protective stare was a rare occurrence. Those heroes had definitely hurt someone that Joseph cared about.

“I’m sure,” Joseph said, then quickly downed three ibuprofen.

Eric had sometimes wondered if the stare was powered because of the way it seemed to unease anybody and everybody, but it didn’t really matter as long as he didn’t use it on allies that they needed to stay under the radar.

“I trust you, and if there's nothing we can do, there's nothing we can do,” Eric said as he zipped the medical bag back up, “but, we’re guests here. We have to play nice, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” Joseph replied, nodding his head.

*** When they returned to the safe house, Joseph grabbed a change of shirt and some wound care supplies before heading straight to the bathroom. It hadn’t looked too bad when he’d gotten it, but he needed to examine it properly to be sure. As long as it didn’t need stitches, he’d be happy.

Ignoring how his injury protested, he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. After pulling on a pair of gloves, he cut away the bandages to reveal the wound. It’d at least stopped bleeding, but that would most likely change when he cleaned it. He scrubbed some of the dried blood away from the edge of the wound so he could better see the edges, then used the mirror to get a better look.

He grumbled when he saw the lobules of fat that were peeking out from the bottom of the wound. There would be no avoiding the stitches, then. The edges were clean, and it hadn't been horribly contaminated. It’d still need a thorough cleaning, but he wouldn’t be picking gravel out of it. Small wins.

Dodging the faucet, he positioned his upper arm over the sink, then grabbed the squirt bottle o the counter. He squeezed the bottle, repositioning the stream every so often to make sure the entire wound got cleaned. The pressure had dislodged several clots, and it had started bleeding again. Light pink water ran off his arm and into the sink, swirling around the drain before disappearing.

It was only when Joseph reached for his suturing supplies when he realized a major problem. He only had one hand. Because of the location of the injury, he couldn’t use his left hand, and that meant he couldn’t suture it on his own. Sighing, he pressed some gauze over the wound and used his elbow to open the bathroom door.

“Eric, are you free?” He said, standing in the doorway. “I need some help.”

Eric looked up from his paperwork. “Sure, what do you need help with?”

“I’m down a hand, and this thing needs stitches.” He said, watching Avia’s face cringe. They didn’t handle needles well. “Sorry to drag you from your paperwork.”

“It’s okay, I’d be happy to help,” He set down the mound of documentation that he’d never escape from. “It’s been hot second though,”

Joseph shrugged. He’d be the one actually stabbing into his flesh, though knot tying could be difficult.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I could do it?” The voice came from the couch. It was Alex, sitting to keep pressure off her injured hip. “Before I went into Intelligence, I trained in the medical corps.” She paused, uncomfortable. “I could help, if you’d be okay with that.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” That explained her strange prociency at her own wound care then.

She shut the bathroom door behind them, then turned to face him. “How do you wanna play this?”

He kept his hand firmly clamped over his arm as he spoke. “I’ll use my good hand for the needle driver, you’ll be my temporary left hand with the forceps.”

“Alright,” she started pulling on a pair of gloves. “You think it’d be easier sitting in the tub?”

Joseph nodded. “Yeah, probably don’t want to be standing the whole time.” He carefully lowered himself down while Alex got the supplies ready.

He set his elbow down on the side of the tub. “I’ve already cleaned it, just needs stitched.” He said.

“I figured,” she said, peeling the tape off the sterile blue fabric. He moved his arm out of the way so she could slide it underneath, then set it back down. Carefully, she balanced the tools on the side of the tub.

“Did you ever get your heart?” He used his head to gesture towards the tattoo on his wrist.

“Nah. Got pulled before I finished my rotations.” She uncapped the pre-drawn syringe of lidocaine, then flicked it a couple of times.

“What rotation?” He asked, mainly as a distraction for the discomfort he knew was coming.

“ICU,” She paused, lining up the syringe. “Heads up,” She warned, then started to numb his arm.

The lidocaine burned a little as it went in. “That’s a crazy one, yeah.”

Alex recapped the syringe, then tucked it into the sharps bin on the counter. “Was my first rotation, too.”

Joseph raised his eyebrows. “Little bit of baptism by fire,”

She opened the packet of sutures and gripped the needle with its holder. “Lots of baptism by fire.” She chuckled a little, then handed him the instrument.

Joseph took the needle holder from her hand, sliding his fingers into the correct position. “I was one of the lucky ones.” After selecting his angle of attack, he pushed the needle into his skin. “Got to start in PT.”

“Lucky one indeed,” She grabbed the needle with her forceps and pulled it the rest of the way through the skin. They worked together to tie it into a knot.

“Are you gonna go back and finish?” He waited for Alex to pinch the skin together with the forceps before he made the second stitch.

“Dunno,” she shrugged. “Maybe. Haven’t really got out that far.” They cinched the second knot down.

“If you wanna, I’d be glad to have you for your mentorship.” Joseph said, placing the third stitch.

“Thanks, I’ll think about it.” The forceps clinked as they tied another knot.

They fell into a comfortable silence, working carefully to close the wound. Her hands were steady and sure, obviously practiced. Joseph couldn’t help but wonder how much of that practice had been on herself. Intelligence was notorious for lacking medical support.

“All done,” she declared after they finished the final knot. She swapped out her forceps for scissors and cut off the excess thread, along with the needle.

“Thanks for the help,” Joseph said, setting the needle holder down. His hand was a little sore from the unorthodox position.

“No problem.” Alex covered the stitches with a bandage, then tapped it down with much more ease than he would’ve had one handed.

Alex pulled her gloves off and dropped them in the trash can. “I dearly hope there's food out there.”

“There probably is. Sil is always absolutely ravenous after a mission.” He tossed all of the wrapping, packing, and used gauze into the bin before he removed his own gloves.

The dull ache was returning to his arm as the lidocaine wore off. “After you eat, I need to look at your hip again.”

She gave him a thumbs up. “After I eat.”

“After you eat.” He promised.

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @sassafrassmoke

#whump #heroes and villains #angst #medical treatment #stitches #knife wound #needle mention #others ocs #alex & friends #awwwww #can alex and Joseph find a bonding exercise that doesn’t involve medical care for each other???lol

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whumpacabra · 5 days

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few whump tropes top a bitter, broken, "do you know what they did to me?"

#whump #whump tropes #whump words #dialogue prompt #past trauma #trauma reveal #secrets revealed #oooooooo

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whumpacabra · 5 days

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Barfight

Choking, violence, attempted stabbing, homophobic language, ableist language, racial slurs, threats, knife mention, neonazi mention

[Directly follows Night Out]

Alister knew this skinhead. East’s first impression, wary and poisoned by a whisper he dismissed had been correct. (No one ever talked about what Alister had done to end up in prison. Somehow it now made sense why.) Ice in his veins had East frozen where he stood, but with his hearing implants he could clearly understand their conversation across the bar.

“Fuck off.”

“What? No ‘hi Andrew, long time no see’?”

“No. I’m not talking to you.”

“You are right now.”

“He told you to fuck off, prick.” Tomas’ grumble was soft, but it made Andrew prickle. East flinched in sympathy with Tomas - the skinhead’s glare was venomous.

“Don’t talk like that to customers, Tomas, it’s bad for business.” East saw him slide money across the bar. Tomas glared at the cash, frozen. Andrew’s condescending voice was laced with an unspoken threat. “Don’t tell me you forgot my usual, did you Tommy?”

There was a tense moment where Tomas and Alister shared a look, but the barkeep eventually relented, turning away. (He didn’t touch the money, leaving it in the counter.) Andrew got more comfortably embedded in Alister’s space, leaning back against the bar as he spoke.

“I don’t blame you - for selling the boys out. You did what you had to do, right?”

“You don’t know shit, Andy.” Alister took a deep swig of his liquor. “I don’t want anything to do with them anymore. I’m not coming back.”

“Really? C’mon, like I said - I don’t blame you. None of us do. Let’s get out of this shithole and go - ”

“I’m not fucking around Andy. I’m done.” Alister set his drink down harshly, glaring at Andrew. From this angle, East couldn’t see the newcomer’s face, but he could see the coil of tension building between his shoulders.

“You’re one of us - ”

“I was. I’m not anymore.” Alister’s voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “Just fuck off, please.”

“Hey - he said fuck off!”

East’s heart nearly lept out of his chest as Tierney, in his drunken confidence, shouted at Andrew from across the bar. His steps were surprisingly steady as he wove between tables, but he stopped a few paces away. Even he could tell Andrew was looking for a fight, disgust and hate in his eyes.

“You’re fucking pathetic, Al. Hanging out with gypsy homos - ” Andrew paused, looking down at the hand on his shoulder, surprised to see East beside him.

(He had used Tierney’s shout as a distraction to slip between the booths and make his way to the bar. It only took a few short steps to be close enough to grab him.)

“You’re in that gypsy homo’s seat, dickheaded cunt.” East’s voice rumbled low, cold and threatening. It was a role he knew well. He would lie to himself, that he didn’t feel the familiar rush from when he played the role of the Wolf. But unlike his victims, Andrew only looked up at him with disgust, swatting away the hand and stepping away from the bar. (Away from Alister.)

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“He called you a dickhead.” Tierney took East’s cue and sidled up to the other side of Alister’s seat. “And a cunt.”

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, Al…” Andrew scoffed, still posturing as he looked between the trio. East turned back to the bar, taking a swig from his beer. (He was going to need it, hands shaking with adrenaline.) “Fine. Fuck you too, then. Enjoy your new friends - ”

Things seemed to happen in slow motion, but all at once.

Andrew slapped East’s ass. Whether it was intended to be purely provocative or inappropriately teasing had no bearing on East’s reaction. It was a fluid movement, turning on the balls of his feet, taking a step to Andrew’s right. East’s other leg hooked behind Andrew’s, sweeping him off balance. The skinhead started to raise his arms in defense, but East was too strong and too fast. He caught both of Andrew’s wrists in one hand, and used his opposite forearm to press down on Andrew’s throat. Their momentum did the rest, the bar deathly silent save for Andrew’s gurgling gasps where East had him pinned down on a table.

East was surprised - mostly that he was so aware of what he was doing, and who he was doing it to. This wasn’t a panic reflex, thinking Smith was back from the dead. He wasn’t seeing ghosts or caught in a memory. East looked down into Andrew’s pale eyes and saw fear. He was here and now, putting this punk in his place.

“Fuckin’ hell dude…” Tierney’s breathy whisper broke the silence, eyes shifting uncomfortably between the pair and Tomas, watching wide eyed behind the bar. Andrew was starting to run out of air, struggles growing weaker but more erratic.

“East - East, let him go.” Alister had never sounded so small, so ashamed. “He’s not worth it.”

(East knew well how long it took to strangle someone to death. Andrew wasn’t even unconscious yet.)

“I don’t know, prison wasn’t so bad the first time.” East was in his comfort zone - putting on a show. Playing the monster. He looked back down at Andrew, easing the pressure on his throat enough that the man didn’t lose consciousness as he dropped his tone. “Follow in your hero’s footsteps and go find a hole to die in.”

He released Andrew, stepping back as the skinhead sank to the ground, gasping for air. East watched him, now knowing better than to turn his back.

“You’re fucked - you know that?” Andrew’s voice was reedy and thin with strain as he struggled to his feet, hands tentatively probing his bruised throat. “I’m - once the cops find out - you’re so fucked. Assault absolutely violates whatever bullshit probation you’re on.” He gagged and sputtered between his words, wheezing. “You fucking hear me?”

“I do. Now get out of here before I reconsider.”

“What? Apologizing to me, you fucking maniac?”

“Before I reconsider going back to prison for assault or for murder. Now get, the fuck, out.” East took half a step forward, satisfaction warm in his chest when Andrew flinched away. (This was when the Wolf was safest - posturing and threatening victims for the entertainment of others.) Andrew started to shuffle back, turning away. He had a hand in his pocket - getting brass knuckles or a knife, if East had to guess.

“I’m going - I’m going, you fucking psycho.”

East nodded, purposefully turning away. He was curious - was it a knife or knuckles? Two quick steps and something slashed the fabric at the top of his jacket. Knife it was.

East turned heel and caught Andrew’s knife hand, a squeeze at his wrist forcing the blade to drop into East’s waiting hand. A quick jab to his nose sent Andrew reeling back, East’s hold released to examine the knife while the wanker whined about his bruised and bloodied nose.

“You hold it wrong.” East demonstrated, holding the knife upside down in his hand as Andrew had held it. “This kind of stabbing isn’t effective - not with a moving target. You want it like this.” He flipped the knife around, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “See? Smooth. Much more control in your slashes.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Andrew panted, exasperated disgust across his face. East narrowed his eyes at the bastard - he was scared of East, sure, but he was too proud to leave without the last word. East squared his shoulders, appraising Andrew the way he did a cut of beef at the deli.

“I’ve killed better men than you.” East took a step forward, Andrew took a step back. “I’ve killed worse men, too. But you - you might just be the most cowardly, pathetic, whiny little bitch I’ve ever had the chance to relieve this earth of.” Another step forward, another step back. “Go to the police - go to your skinhead brothers and tell them how you were beaten and bested by some Sinti son of a bitch who didn’t consider you worth the time it would take to break your fucking neck.”

Andrew had backed into another table, flinching away from it even as East stepped into his face. He knew that look on Andrew’s face well. The fear. The shame. The rabbit-like panic from being cornered and hurt and humiliated and helpless.

(It was an expression he had worn many times.)

“Get the fuck out.” East spat, leaning back enough for Andrew to scramble toward the door. Half frustrated with the memory of his own weakness and half sure the bastard needed some extra motivation, East threw the knife after Andrew. It landed solidly in the doorframe, of course - he wasn’t trying to kill the guy - but with the curses Andrew screamed, you would have thought he had been stabbed.

The door bell chimed, window panes rattling as the door slammed behind Andrew and he ran into the rainy streets. The bar was silent, save for the prattle of the television program and the rumble of thunder outside. East stalked to the door, taking the knife from the frame and inspecting the knick it left behind. Not too deep. He walked back to the bar and took another swig of beer.

“Sorry about the door, Tomas. I can pay - ”

“Don’t worry about it.” The barkeep said, a smile stretching across his face as he laughed. “Don’t you worry about paying me anything ever again.”

The bar seemed to release the breath it had collectively been holding, laughter and chatter erupting from the patrons. Tomas poured East another drink, while Tierney and Alister looked at him with wonder and gratitude respectively.

“How’d you fuckin’ do that? Huh? You gotta teach me - that take down was smooth as butter.” Tierney’s rambling praise settle light and warm across East’s back. He rolled his eyes at the half drunk requests for sparring lessons, giving Alister a glance.

“Thank you.” He mouthed, a shaky relief in his eyes as Tomas laid out shot glasses of hard liquor for the three. East smiled, toasting with the others. He could push his personal worries and guilt aside - it was hard to feel panic in his throat when it burned with the best vodka Tomas could find.

[Directly before Bared]

(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)

Taglist: @stargeode @sacredwrath @genuineformality

#whump #choking #violence #knife #threats #ableism #homophobia #racism #neonazi mention #freelancers #also yes Andrew is referring to tierney specifically. given the conflations between Irish Mincéirs and nomadic Romani in the UK.#‘beans is this a power fantasy bc of all the white supremacist Jackass you’ve had to deal w lately?’ maybe. idk.#East deserves a little power fantasy. as a treat for the both of us.#anyways. punch Nazis but don’t let them make themselves martyrs. they find power in ‘being proven right’ about being hated by the Bad Peopl #so make sure they’re aware of how deeply pathetic and laughable they are #also as an aside I’m pissed abt the ‘Nazis can’t be punk’ sentiment lately. you can’t no true Scotsman your way out of your due diligence #to keep tabs on your community and who you associate with. skinheads started as a punk counter-social movement that got co-opted by nazis s #badly that we call nazis skinheads to this day. if you let one nazi in the bar it becomes the nazi bar. don’t give an inch.#on a lighter note. well. getting the Hell presentation over w today wish me luck o7

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