#minor character death mention

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 7

And now you see why I waited until I had this part written before posting the last one? That was one hell of a cliffhanger. Also everyone gets a dig at Al in this. It's family bonding event. But Steve has the best burn I think.

Just a heads up, Steve talks about being abused...heads up if that's a trigger for you.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

***

Steve placed his hand on Eddie’s back the second he felt his friend stiffen next to him.

“Deep breath, Eds,” he murmured. “There is nothing he can say to you that I will let him get away with, okay? Deep breath. Let me and Wayne handle this.”

Eddie let out a deep breath. “Just careful, Stevie. He’s been known to charm snakes out of their skin.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. So that’s the kind of man he was. He knew that kind of man intimately. His own father was like that. He knew what to watch for now that he had been forewarned.

He plastered a solemn expression on his face, that to everyone who didn’t know him well enough would think sincere, but to Eddie and Wayne, they could see the hard set line of his jaw as he kept one eye on Al and the other on the proceedings.

The funeral wrapped up and everyone lined up to throw dirt on the now lowered coffin. Al tried to get directly behind Eddie, but Steve seamlessly inserted himself between them.

Al bristled but the portly man next to him coughed and he was forced to back down.

Finally the family was all that remained as they all walked back to the church.

The portly man stuck to Al like glue and Steve felt a sudden warmth for the boys in blue at that moment. Because he was pretty sure that even though Al Munson had been granted a furlough, someone was paying to keep that man on a short leash.

The family and a small handful of friends arranged themselves on the pews and waited.

It wasn’t too long until a funny little man with thick bottled glasses came hurrying in.

“I’m sorry Mrs Nelson,” he twittered to Penny. “I had a hard time getting to the church.”

Penny just nodded. “It’s all right Mr Mulbury, you’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He walked up the pulpit and put his briefcase on it. He pulled out a piece of paper of it and then walked back around the pulpit, leaving the briefcase where it was.

“Ehhm,” Mr Mulbury coughed. “The last will and testament of Gina Munson goes as follows...”

He read it out, people getting little trinkets and things that were meaningful to them, instructions on what to do with her clothes and other things that wouldn’t be given to friends or family.

And then it came time to divide up her meager savings. “My savings of five thousand dollars will be divided three ways. To Penny, you get a thousand to repair that lovely house of yours. I know you didn’t want anything, but use it for your family, dearest girl. Love you all the best.”

Penny laughed a watery little chuckle. She shook her head fondly.

“To Wayne, you get two thousand dollars to finally get that motor home you always wanted. When the time is right, retire and see the world like you always dreamed of. See the stars, my beautiful boy. You deserve stars.”

Wayne teared up, coming down in rivers down his face. Both Steve and Eddie hugged him tight.

“To Allen, who had squandered every good thing he every had, his loving wife, his devoted son, his talents and his good sense, you get nothing. You deserve nothing. If you are here to hear this, I hope it is because the state of Texas deemed it so, and not because you have been set loose again on the world.”

There was a gasp from those gathered and they descended into harsh whispers as they wondered aloud who got the remaining two thousand dollars.

Mr Mulbury cleared his throat. “Instead the remaining two thousand will be given to your son, Edward. Through your actions that boy has suffered so, and because of your actions he will receive not only the money, but all my love as well. Live your dreams, Eddie. Be that star for your uncle. Shine brighter then even that of Polaris. Butterfly kisses into the sunset, darling boy.”

Now Eddie was crying too. Two thousand wouldn’t get him far, but it could get him started. He raised a shaking hand to his quivering lips. Steve grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it.

Eddie looked over and Steve mouthed, “you deserve it.”

He nodded back.

Finally there were some other little things to be wrapped up in the will and then it was all over.

Everyone stood and Steve looked over at Al for the first time since they entered the church. The man had a smile plastered on his face that sent chills down Steve’s spine. Whenever his father wore that expression it meant trouble for someone, usually Steve.

They mingled for a bit, waiting until Penny’s friend came back to tell her that dinner was ready for them. Penny, Wayne, Steve, and Eddie all clustered together while everyone else gathered in other groups.

People were coming up and telling Eddie how much he deserved the money and how much his grandmother loved him. It made Steve puff out his chest in pride.

Finally Al came over and all four of them stiffened.

“Eddie, my boy!” Al greeted warmly. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you. You’re spitting image of your old man.” He lifted a handcuffed hand with a jaunty little wave. “I’d hug ya, but I’m on a bit of a leash.”

Penny bristled. “I paid good money for that leash, I’m glad to see it working.”

The men turned to her in shock.

“Did you know,” she said through gritted teeth, “that the state of Texas was going to let him come to the funeral without a guard to make sure he didn’t escape? And that you actually have to pay for that service?”

Al grinned. “Ah...Penny-elle-oh-pee, you shouldn’t have.” His voice dropped low and menacing. “You really shouldn’t have.”

The portly man nudged him with his elbow. Al straightened up, his charming mask firmly in place.

Wayne shook his head. “Al, Al, Al...you never did know when to fold and when to call.”

Al turned to his brother for the first time. “Big brother always watching out for everyone and never getting ahead. How much they pay you at that workhouse? You know the one, the one that took Dad’s life?”

Wayne grinned. “Pretty good considering we union’ed up about five years ago. Which would have known if you actually read any of the letters I sent you. Just like you would have known about what Eddie looks like now...”

Steve hurried to cover his snort, but Al whipped his head his direction.

“And who the hell are you?”

Steve eyed him with a raised eyebrow. “Steve Harrington, my mother is Sophia Kincade, of the Lexington Kincades and a good friend of your son’s.”

Al turned to Penny. “Why he is here with family?”

Wayne bristled. “This is the boy that saved your son during that major earthquake we had earlier this year. Another thing you’d know if you’d read my damn letters. He deserves to be here just as much as you if not more so.”

Just then Penny’s friend came in and told them that dinner was ready for the family.

Al ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned. “Hey, Bernie, how much time have we got?”

The portly man looked at his watch. “We’ve got about an hour before we have to leave to catch our flight.”

Penny furrowed her brow but knew she couldn’t deny him dinner as much as it grated.

The friends that had been at the reading made their goodbyes and soon everyone else was filing into cars.

Penny and her family in her blue Chevy, Steve, Eddie and Wayne in his BMW, and Al and Bernie in an unmarked Crown Vic.

They get to the house and the scents of a home cooked meal waft from the open front door.

They all go sit down at the table, Danny and Wayne pulling out two more chairs for their unwelcomed guests.

Steve was disappointed to see that not only was there enough food to feed Al and Bernie, but that there was enough food to feed a fucking army.

Penny’s friend’s name is Lucy and her daughter Beth is one of Lauren’s friends, too. They’re both blonde with bright blue eyes and curvy bodies.

They are bustling around the table making sure everyone has enough food.

About half way through dinner Al speaks up. “So you still playing that guitar of yours, Ed?”

Eddie stiffened. “I’ve got a red NJ Warlock that I play now.”

“Ooh...fancy,” Al whistled. “You steal it?”

Lauren and Wayne bristled, but Eddie scoffed. “No, but I did steal an RV once while on the run wanted for murder, but they were a bunch of pricks anyway.”

Wayne and Steve stifled a laugh while the rest of the family looked as though they weren’t sure if he was telling the truth or not.

“Cleared of all charges,” Steve added with a sly smile. “Court ruled it extenuating circumstances.”

It was Eddie’s turn to hide his smile in his napkin.

Al’s mood darkened. He didn’t like being out of the inside joke. “You gonna do anything with the talent I gave ya, teaching you how to play on that beat up ‘ole six string?”

This time Eddie rankled. How dare AL imply that he had anything to do with his ability to play guitar? As if the real reason wasn’t sitting right there at the table.

Steve put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, calming him.

“Was that before or after you taught him how to hotwire a car?” he asked, faux innocence.

Al sputtered.

“See, I always got the impression,” Steve continued, “that instead of teaching Eddie how to play guitar or throw a ball you were too busy trying to make sure your son followed in your footsteps straight into the penitentiary.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide with barely contained glee.

“While Wayne on the other hand,” he said scratching his temple, “was working hard to put on the table, get Eddie through school, and give him the best life he could given the hand you dealt both of them. Now, I’m just some outsider, but I know what it’s like to have a shit dad.”

The room was stock still. Steve didn’t think that they were even breathing at this point, but he pressed on.

“Didn’t fit into the box he built? He hit me. Didn’t get captain my sophomore year, something that had never been done ever? He hit me. Didn’t date the right girl? He hit me. Ditched my asshole friends? He hit me. Now, I don’t know if you’re cut from the same cloth or not. I don’t give a fuck. But you tell another lie like that one to these honest folk, and Officer Bernie here will be taking you back to Texas in a body bag.”

Al jumped to his feet, but before he could even twitch Steve’s direction Bernie whipped out a taser and zapped him with it. Soon he was doing a different kind of twitching.

On the floor.

Bernie began clapping and soon everyone else was too.

Steve blushed. “To think I could have been like that asshole if it wasn’t for getting some sense knocked into me by people who actually gave a damn. I’m sorry he ruined dinner.”

Penny scoffed. “Dinner isn’t ruined. Wayne, Danny please help the kind officer take out the trash.”

Officer Bernie chuckled. “Much appreciated, ma’am.”

Wayne and Danny stood up and helped him take Al back into the Crown Vic.

Wayne went through and made sure that Al didn’t steal anything or had anything that might be a danger to the good officer. He never had trusted Al, even as kids and he sure the hell wasn’t going to start now.

Soon the officer was on his way and the family sat down to eat the dinner that was so wonderfully prepared in peace. Like Gina had always intended.

Wayne smiled at Steve. He was proud of how he had stood up to Al for his boy.

****

Pt 8|Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag list: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76 @flaming-reauxster

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #minor character death #dealing with grief #tw: mentions of abuse

[trans-queen-administrator]

During the talk with Phir Sē, it comes up that he has a daughter when he tells Taylor about how keenly aware he is of what he could be sacrificing to kill Behemoth.

And it's very odd to me that she's a hero, when her father is one of the men so monstrous that he's used as evidence for why the PRT should stick around. It's almost like the stereotypical superhero show plot where the plucky protagonist hero learns their dad is Doctor Evilman or whatever, but this is Worm. Later in the conversation Phir Sē reveals that he sacrificed family before in a similar scenario

And I can't help but feel that him sacrificing his wife and sons is connected to his daughter being a hero? Like imagine being her, and seeing your dad refuse to save the rest of your family because of the greater good. He could effortlessly step backwards in time but he stands there while their corpses cool instead. That could definitely crack a rift between them and cause his daughter to join the heroes in a desperate attempt to prove that you can save everyone. Hell, I could even see her dad letting her family die being a trigger event. And she's specifically one of the bright and popular heroes, one of the campy flashy ones like Mouse Protector. How much of that is because she can't bear to let herself be anything less than the ideal of a hero, because she can't stomach the thought of being someone who has to make a sacrifice like her father? Phir Sē says he'll live the rest of his life down in his bunker mourning her if he fails, but I think he's already been doing that. He's been consumed by the guilt of who he left in the past and how that ruined his only tie left, and he wants to do something that justifies his existence. If he kills Behemoth, the world celebrates, people are saved, and maybe his daughter will talk to him again. If not, he keeps living as he always has, alone and crippled by the weight of his actions.

I wonder how he felt, in his last moments. The bomb didn't kill the Endbringer, and Behemoth hunted down his bunker and killed him. He had to have seen that it survived, and while maybe he didn't fail so hard he vaporized the country, he didn't redeem himself, he didn't save anyone. He'll never know that his actions weakened Behemoth enough for Scion to finish the job, from his perspective he lost. I wonder if his daughter survived, and if she knows what he did to tip the scales of the battle. Would she even mourn him, assuming he caused her trigger and she knows he let her family die?

He liked Weaver because she reminded him of himself with her ruthless pragmatism and ability to make the hard choices, while also reminding him of his daughter with her idealistic nature. I think he saw a version of himself in her, one that didn't end up isolated in a bunker with no family left. One that has hope and still kept the humanity he feels he lost. She talks to him about working together with others, communicating, and he doesn't think it's something that's possible, he thinks humanity is a "wretched, petty species" and that infighting and lack of coordination would prevail even against an Endbringer. And I think he's right in thinking Taylor is like a younger version of him, because that's exactly what happens during Gold Morning until she makes them work together. He would feel vindicated, seeing Khepri.

Honestly I really wish he survived, he's such an interesting character and I would love to see more of him beyond a single random Tohu face. Most of this is headcanon but like, I think it fits pretty well, so who knows maybe it's the intended subtext.

#worm #parahumans #Phir Sē #and his unnamed daughter #gosh I just analyzed way too much about a character that doesn't even have dialouge #or a description #or anything beyond a mention #also ty to the person who wanted Phir Sē posts I really enjoyed rereading his chapters and thinking about it #what a good minor character #ramble #also #I will kill those people who make me smile and feel more human than I am. I will grieve their deaths #and then I will take that gamble again #what a great quote

[lumosinlove]

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

(cw in tags if you wish)

Five: Sirius

Athens, Greece

Sirius wasn’t reckless. He thought before he did—probably too much sometimes. He kept himself in line. Maybe it was a product of a strict upbringing. A smack on the cheek or hand at one wrong move. He used to think it was what made him so good for the agency. Salazar liked strict. They liked obedient. James, therefore, hadn’t quite made sense to Sirius as a candidate, at least not in the beginning. Not until he showed Sirius that it wasn’t just about following orders. It was about heart, too. Camaraderie. Remus had shown him that, too. Still, Sirius couldn’t always shake that rule-following kid.

But if Remus was on the rooftops getting shot at by Jack Archer, who had just been holding a gun to Logan and Finn’s heads, all bets were off.

Jack was smart though. He took Sirius right through the now bustling Christmas market. Small children strapped the the chests of fathers. Women in groups laughing and catching up over coffee. Carolers by a central fountain. Sirius caught glimpses of alarmed eyes as he ran, always keeping the back of Jack’s head just in sight. He tried not to add to the mess on the street, narrowly avoiding the cart Jack had carelessly rolled into his path. He sprinted past the pissed vendor. He knew he should hide his gun. Lights blurred beside him and the sun came out from behind a cloud, then went again. His feet pounded the pavement. The streets narrowed. Jack stumbled on the stones in front of a cafe, sending cups shattering to the cobblestones and making a shop owner run out and shout at him. For a second, Sirius thought he was going to catch up. He swiped forward at the fabric of Jack’s shirt, but Jack rolled and then was up on his feet again. Sirius lunged. He didn’t care who was watching. He didn’t care if they saw his gun. His arms wrapped around Jack’s waist and they both hit the cobblestones hard, rolling into another table. Sirius felt something hot splash against his neck, something sharp dig into the skin of his wrist.

Jack was up again in a moment, using a hard kick to Sirius’ ribs to knock the wind out of him. Sirius gasped, coughing as he scrambled up from the ground and away from the alarmed onlookers. He yanked the shard of ceramic out of his arm. Jack slipped around a bend in the street—but this was one Sirius recognized. He’d chased Remus—or the ghost of Remus—right into this corner.

When he held his gun up on Jack, Jack’s hands were around the bars of the very gate Sirius had run into their first day here.

“Dead end, Archer,” Sirius said. “Now tell me why you’re here.”

Jack at least knew when he’d been caught. His shoulders moved quickly, breathing hard as he rested his forehead against the gate.

“Did you know?” Sirius could hardly say the words. “Did you know they were alive?”

“Sirius—”

“Get the fuck down,” Sirius said, striding closer until they were both hidden in the alleyway. He risked a glance behind him. “On your knees.”

Jack went, knocking the damp hair out of his face with a jerk of his head. Sirius could see both of their breath fogging between them. “We didn’t know. Not until Leo found Remus.”

“And you want them dead.”

Jack’s mouth formed a thin line.

Sirius didn’t have time for this. His mind kept skipping back, trying to figure out who had been shooting from the roof. RemusRemusRemus.

“Why?” Sirius asked. “Why do you want them dead? They’re our own, what changed? And I swear to God, answer me, or I’ll bring you to James.”

James was sweet. James was funny. James was relaxed and kind and easy-going.

James could also get information out of anyone. He was their top interrogator, had been since the academy. How do you do it? Sirius had once asked. Sirius had never liked seeing terrified faces up close. James had gotten a sad, faraway look on his face. I pretend they have Lily. And Harry. And then I don’t feel so guilty. I just want them to talk. I make them talk.

Jack seemed to have heard the rumors because he paled. “Listen. This is Salazar. You’re here to find them and bring them in. That’s all I’m here for, too.”

Sirius thought briefly of telling Jack about Logan’s memory, but Remus’ careful hazel eyes filled his mind. Unsure. Untrusting.

“Why pull the gun?”

Jack’s eyebrow arched. “Tremblay was holding a gun on his own husband. Who, by the way…” Jack made a scornful sound. “Should not be here.”

It was Sirius’ turn to stay silent. It was a sensible response, but that didn’t mean Sirius believed him.

“What,” Jack laughed a little. “You think we wouldn’t know?”

“I couldn’t stop him.”

“Liar.”

“That makes two of us, then,” Sirius said. “Why are you here?”

“Is he turned?” Jack asked in a hushed voice, eyes dark. “Is Lupin?”

“Turned where? By who?”

Jack shook his head slowly. “Liar.”

“I’m not.” Sirius swallowed over a dry throat. At least, not entirely. Pascal. Pascal, whoever he was.

“You don’t want to get on our bad side, Black,” Jack said. His hand twitched, maybe towards a knife, and Sirius stretched his gun forward. Jack’s smile was tight. “I think Tremblay’s enough proof of that.”

Sirius stared at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

Jack opened his mouth to answer, but stopped as though his words had frozen in his mouth. He snapped his lips shut, then a strained cough escaped. A twitch went through his body, almost like a pulse of electricity, and he sat back against his heels. Sirius hesitated, watching Jack blink fast at the cobblestones before raising his eyes to Sirius.

“Who the hell are you?” Jack asked, eyes darting between the two guns. He scrambled backwards, the gate rattling when it hit his back. “What the hell?”

Sirius froze. He clicked the safety off on his own gun. “Don’t bullshit me, Archer.��

Jack blinked at him, eyes unfocused. “I…”

Another twitch, a strange pulse through his body. Jack gasped. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nose. He swayed where he was, and his hands went to his head. “Ah—” Sirius watched his face screw up in pain. Jack stared up at him. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Jack—” Sirius began to say, but then Jack fell against the pavement, as suddenly as if someone had pushed him, with a harsh thud.

Sirius felt something cold squeeze around his throat. Dread, maybe. Adrenaline. Slowly, he lowered the guns, tucking one into his belt and swinging the other behind him, doing a quick scan of what little of the street he could see. He raised it up towards the roofs, then crouched in front of Jack.

His eyes were open, lips parted, blood quickly drying on his skin. He was dead.

“Jesus,” Sirius whispered. “Jesus, fuck—” His hand went for his radio, and then he paused. It was Salazar’s radio.

If anyone had told Sirius just a week ago that that would make him pause, he would have laughed.

Sirius checked Jack’s pulse—nothing—and then cursed as he heaved his body up against the wall as best he could. There was no point in trying to move him, not with the city waking up. Someone would have to find him like this. Sirius turned Jack’s collar up, closed his eyes, and took the wires off of him. He took his knives—all the ones he could feel anyway—and the second, small gun he found tucked into his boot.

He walked in the opposite direction of the cafes, towards the still mostly sleeping residential streets. There had been no blood, not that much anyway, but Sirius checked his hands and front before calling out to a man sweeping the steps in front of his house with a cigarette between his teeth.

The man didn’t put up much of a fight, just handed Sirius his cellphone before waving him off and going back to the chore.

The line picked up immediately.

“Lion den,” Sirius said into the tone. It was their secure line. If Salazar knew about it, they’d be dead, but Finn’s tracker wasn’t the first illegal backup Leo had set up. James hadn’t seen the point, hadn’t seen what they’d ever have to hide any comms, but Leo had insisted. Now, Sirius was glad. After Archer and Remus and Logan, he didn’t know who to trust. A headache was building at the back of his skull.

“We’re not at the house,” Leo said instead of hello. “After Archer, I didn’t think we should go back there.”

“He’s dead,” Sirius said.

He heard Leo’s sharp inhale. “Sirius—”

“It wasn’t me,” Sirius said. “We were running, I got him. And then he didn’t recognize me all of a sudden. A minute later, he was dead.”

Sirius’ heart was going so hard he had to press a hand there. The sweeping man didn’t even look up. The gray light hurt his eyes.

“Where are you?” Sirius asked. “Leo. Are you all together?”

“He’s dead?” Leo asked. “But—how? And what do you mean he didn’t recognize you?”

“I don’t know, I thought he was fucking with me, because maybe he knew Logan—but how would he know Logan couldn’t remember? I…” Sirius pressed at his eyes. It was as though someone was shining a spotlight right in his eyes. It ached. “I don’t know, Le. Where are you? Where are you?”

“Sirius,” Leo said. “I can’t find—I can’t find you.”

“What?”

“I can’t find you—Jesus, here, I’m dropping this number our coordinates—but Sirius, your tracker’s offline.”

Sirius felt the phone vibrate with the incoming text. He looked, memorizing quickly. It would disappear entirely in a minute, erasing itself.

“He didn’t recognize you?” Leo asked. “He didn’t…”

“Leo,” Sirius said, and then dropped to a knee. God, his very bones ached. His skull.

“Oh God,” Leo said faintly, and then, a little farther away from the phone, he shouted. “James!”

Sirius ducked away from the gray light. The cold wind. His head was killing him. “Fuck.”

“Eh!” The man stopped sweeping, looking at him. He said something fast in Greek, but Sirius was hopeless to translate just then.

“Sirius,” Leo said, voice closer now. “You’re tracker. Cut it out right now.”

“What?” Sirius asked.

“Cut out your tracker right now,” Leo shouted. “You said Jack forgot and then he was dead, there’s nothing that would cause that except—” Leo cut off with a short cry.

“Leo?” Sirius said.

He heard Finn’s voice in the background. Leo! Oh my God—

Then Leo’s. Cut it out, Finn. Right there, remember, feel it? Finn, stop fucking staring, do it, do it, it’s going to kill me and James—

“Finish?” the man asked him, alarmed. He was holding out his hand for his phone, but didn’t look like he wanted to get much closer to Sirius. “Hey, finish? Finish?”

“Help,” Sirius said. “Please—” He pulled the Greek out but he didn’t know how. Autopilot, maybe. “Sir, please may I use your bathroom? It’s life or death.”

The man began to shake his head, but Sirius didn’t have time—he shouldn’t have even asked. The man shouted as Sirius hauled himself up and stumbled past him. He shouldered through the small, wooden door and found himself in a living room—tidy and smelling of cinnamon and coffee. It connected right with the kitchen, not unlike their safe house. The dim lamp by the sofa stung his eyes, glaring as if it were a sun. Sirius blinked hard, looking for something sharp, anything.

“Hey!” The man tried to grab his shoulder, but Sirius shook him off easily. There was a knife, small, laying beside a sliced lemon. Sirius grabbed it and all but fell against the sink. A small vase on the window sill above slipped and shattered into the basin.

The man’s protests was no more than a ringing in Sirius’ ear as he groped at the back of his own neck. What the hell are you doing? Are you insane? Are you sick? Hey, my wife and children will be back soon, come on, brother, don’t scare them. Put the knife down, put the knife down—

There. Sirius felt the bump. Was he imagining that it was hot to the touch? It didn’t matter.

He didn’t even feel the pain of the blade. His adrenaline was so high that it felt like nothing at all. Butter. A slip. Only the red on his hands let him know that he had succeeded. That, and the small, pill-like chip clutched between his fingers.

The pain evaporated and Sirius drew in a ragged breath.

No sooner had he dropped the tracker into the sink than did it let out a high-pitched sound and crack itself in half.

His hearing returned. He blinked his vision back to normal. He worked the pressure out of his jaw. The tracker released a thin trail of smoke.

Sirius, he tested. Sirius Black. He knew himself. He knew the coordinates.

When he turned, breathing hard and sweating, he grabbed an old, dirty looking cloth and pressed it to his neck. It didn’t look like anyone would miss it. The man was simply staring at him, eyes darting between his face and the device in the sink.

“Thank you.” Sirius breathed the words out. Greek, or at least half way there. “I am sorry. I am sorry.”

Without another word, Sirius raced out the door.

+++

The coordinates were an abandoned building right on the coast. Sirius could smell the salt. The cold air was made colder by damp. He had stopped the bleeding of his neck and turned up his collar to keep the rag in place. Everything felt wet and slippery now. Recent rain on the rocks beneath his feet as he walked up an old pathway.

There was nothing inside, it was merely a somewhat reasonable roof of their heads. Shelter, nothing more. Just broken down boards and stone walls now.

To anyone else, it looked empty.

Sirius whistled two notes.

Two notes returned from his left where the sea and horizon bled into each other, framed by a still standing window. It could have been a painting. A TV.

James appeared in front of it, wild hair haloed by the light.

“Fuck,” James said, and then they were hugging. Sirius face ended up near a slightly pink bandage on James’ neck, and he sighed his relief all over again.

“Fuck me, we had a bomb in our head the whole time, Si.” James reached up and brushed the bandage with light fingers. “Just an average day on the job.” His eyes went to Sirius’ neck. “What did you do it with?”

“Fucking kitchen knife, man. You?”

James’ laugh was shaky. “One of my daggers on Leo and I. Finn did it. Think he’s a little freaked, but he did it.”

“Oh Jesus, I should have…” Sirius shook his head. He had his own and he had Jack’s. “Didn’t have to traumatize this…God, never mind. I fucking broke into someone’s house.”

James laughed again, but he looked pale. “It’ll be fine. I was so scared I didn’t even feel it.”

“Same.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Jack?”

“I left him,” Sirius said. “Took everything off him. People will think…I don’t know. But there’s nothing to lead back to Salazar or us.”

James nodded, taking that in. “Salazar’ll be looking for us now that they can’t find us.”

Sirius nodded. “I know… I know they will. We have to move.” They began walking towards the sea window. “How did you end up here? Where are the others?”

“Finn and Leo are with Logan.”

Logan. God, Sirius hadn’t forgotten, of course he hadn’t forgotten, but what a strange thing to hear. After all these months, just a simple Finn and Leo are with Logan.

No sooner had James said it than did the Leo appear. He had an identical bandage to James and held one out to Sirius, along with an alcohol packet.

“Clean that,” Leo said.

Sirius tossed the bloody rag away. “Did yours smoke, too?”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “The second I started to get a headache—Finn said that’s what happened to Logan, too. Said he fell down in pain. But…” Leo frowned in the way he did when he was thinking something over, when something was so entirely perplexing to him that he was sure to pull an all nighter. Sirius had seen him many times after those. Blond hair a mess, coffee mugs lined up besides the water and the electrolyte packets.

“Where…” Sirius began to say. He’d only gotten a glimpse of Logan and it was beginning to feel more like a dream. His slack face. There had been blood? Hadn’t there?

Leo moved aside, revealing a half-collapsed hallway. No, it was more like an nave. Sirius looked up and realized that the remnant of a vaulted ceiling remained, stone and precarious. This had been a church.

Wind whistled through, a high note off the sea, when Sirius saw them. Finn and Logan were at the other end, a corner mostly intact and protected from the cold. Finn was awake, staring down at Logan’s face like he couldn’t stand to look away, not even for a moment. Logan was—asleep?

“Knocked out.” Leo filled in his thoughts. “Finn said he remembered him in the alley, but he’s been out ever since.”

“And his tracker?”

“It’s gone,” Leo said. “I checked.”

“But if Salazar wanted him dead…”

Leo nodded, already there. “Then whoever took it out probably saved his life."

“But he can’t remember us,” Sirius said.

Leo rubbed a hand through his hair, then pressed his fingers to his mouth, thinking. There was blood beneath his nails still, a crust of red even smeared along his jaw. Sirius had the sudden urge to wipe it away for him.

“You said Jack forgot who you were a second before he was killed,” Leo said. “I’m guessing—and this is only a guess—that this is some sort of…kill code put into place in Salazar’s tracker hardware. A memory wipe in case we get captured, and then a kill switch if there’s no hope or if we might crack and tell all.”

“Jesus,” James whispered.

“I’m guessing whoever took out Logan’s didn’t do it in time to prevent the memory wipe. And that’s calling it real close, I don’t know…”

Remus. Sirius could hardly breathe. If he hadn’t seen that footage for himself, he’d be on his knees all over again, desperate and afraid.

“Can you reverse it?” James asked. He was chewing on a thumbnail, looking down the hall. “God, please say you can Leo.”

Leo let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know.” He looked down the stone archways towards Finn. As the three of them watched, Finn reached out a hand and brushed Logan’s hair back from his eyes gently. “I don’t know.”

#cw: minor character death #cw: blood/wound mention #Christmas Eve will find me Lumosinlove #winterfic lumosinlove 2023 #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #amnesia au #spy au #ficmas #Leo knut #finn o'hara #Logan tremblay #o'knutzy #finnlo #lelo #lionfish #sunfish

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Ever in our favour... Masterlist

PEETA MELLARK X GN!READER

You wake up with a migraine, surrounded by forests and kids that are more than willing to kill you. What have you fallen into the middle of? And why can't you remember getting here?

Arena fanfiction, cannon-typical violence, descriptions of blood injuries and death, descriptions of a panic attack, temporary memory loss, mentions of familial abuse, depictions of mutated creatures, established relationship, romance, kissing, fluff and angst, minor character deaths, action/adventure

Table of Contents:

Archive of Our Own

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT (FINALE)

#masterlist #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark #the hunger games #fanfiction #gender neutral reader #district 9 reader #Arena fanfiction #cannon-typical violence #descriptions of blood injuries and death #descriptions of a panic attack #temporary memory loss #mentions of familial abuse #depictions of mutated creatures #established relationship #romance #kissing #fluff and angst #minor character deaths #action/adventure

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #10: Alone - part 2

previous | masterlist | next

content: lab whump, captivity, failed escape attempt, parent death mention, starvation, needle mention, animal death (mouse), minor character death, grief and angst, alcohol mention, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional whump, noncon touch (nonsexual), mind control, comfort at the end?, winged test subject whumpee, creepy scientist carewhumper

hey i know it sounds bad BUT at least Dew gets to eat spaghetti

—

Anton didn’t know what he was thinking. One moment, he was happily walking up the stairs to introduce his mouse friend to his test subject. And the next, he was wallowing in his own misery outside, deep in the dark untouched woods, rain pounding down on his head, clothes getting drenched in mud. Fitting, he thought. He wondered why it always stormed during funerals.

Except Anton didn’t have a black umbrella, or shoulders to cry on and share the pain with. He was alone. It was him, and his strange, glowing green concoction he was drinking out of a flask he found under his floorboards. He didn’t know what it did– it was probably an old experiment from decades ago– and he didn’t know if it would kill him. He just wanted something to ease the pain. Something to make him forget.

And it made him forget all right, but about all the wrong things. As Anton lay sprawled out in the wet grass, drenched in rain, mud and tears, he suddenly remembered that he had somebody locked in his basement. Somebody else he was supposed to take care of and look after. Somebody else that depended on him to survive.

“Shit!” Anton cried. What was he thinking? Leaving Dew alone all day? What time was it? It was dark out, sooner than usual in the autumn month. Anton staggered to his feet, and took another swig of the mystery concoction. He sighed, carded a hand through his messy hair and took one last look at the makeshift grave.

“Goodbye,” he whispered, and started running back to his lab, hearing the crunch of the dead leaves under his feet.

. . .

The door flung open and Anton staggered inside, leaning on the walls and clutching something in his hand. Dew stood, frozen in place as he stared at his captor. He felt like a literal deer caught in headlights, too scared to move or think. He got caught. He got caught. Dew was out of his room, he wasn’t supposed to be here, he was going to get hurt again.

Anton turned his gaze towards his test subject and let out a pained wince as he started to walk towards him. Dew was still hungry. He knew he had no chance of escaping now that Anton was back. There was nothing to do but wait, and hope the scientist would go easy on him this time.

“Dew?” Anton called after him, voice sounding… off. He was holding a clear laboratory flask filled with bright green liquid. It looked half full, and there was some spilled on Anton’s lab coat. Dew thought it was probably another experiment he was planning to test out on him. But none of that mattered now. Anton was back.

Dew fell to his knees in despair, the crowbar falling to the floor next to him. All of those empty threats from earlier were long forgotten and replaced with unfathomable fear. Silent tears fell from his eyes as he sat there, miserable and afraid. He knew it was a bad idea to leave his room, to attempt another futile escape. What was Anton going to do to him now? Take full control of his mind permanently? Erase his memories?

Anton walked closer. “Dewey, I…” He said quietly, voice trailing off. Dew watched as Anton came to a hesitant stop. Dew squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily as his captor stood in the middle of the lab. His mind raced with all of the worst possibilities as he felt the seconds tick by and the feeling of being watched only grew. It was so suffocatingly quiet that Dew wandered if he’d imagined Anton entering, if the last few minutes were even real. Finally, Anton said in a small voice, “I’m back.”

Dew opened his eyes, already wet with tears. “Anton?” he squeaked. The scientist was acting so weird. Dew didn’t know what to do. “I… I’m sorry I-I left my room— p-please don’t hurt me,” he whimpered. “I-I’ll be good. I’ll–”

“No,” Anton choked out. “Dew, I…” The scientist walked forward until he was looming over his test subject. Dew let his tears fall freely, shoulders shaking as he silently sobbed and awaited what horrible punishment Anton would inflict on him. “Look at me,” Anton said, gently grabbing his chin and tilting his head upwards.

“Please, Anton,” Dew weeped. “Please don’t hurt me. I’m so hungry.”

“I… I know,” Anton said softly. “I’m um, I’m sorry… okay?”

Dew’s breath hitched, “What?”

“You’re my test subject… I’m supposed to take care of you.” Anton’s voice uncharacteristically wobbled as he talked, and Dew noticed how strange his expression looked… And his eyes. Something was wrong. Something was very fucking wrong. “I’m all you have, you depend on me and I just…”

“Are you… what’s that in your hand?”

“What? Oh. It’s–” Anton held up his strange flask of green liquid. “It’s this- uh– I dunno what it is. I found under the… the floorboards earlier when… It doesn’t matter. I th… thought it would uh… ease the pain I guess.”

“...Pain?”

“You must be hungry, right?” Anton asked suddenly as he let go of Dew’s face and turned on his heel towards the kitchen. Dew shakily nodded his head, and Anton took his hand and pulled him to his feet. Dew’s mind raced as Anton led him to the kitchen area. What the actual fuck was happening?

“Are the lights too bright?” Anton asked.

“Uhm, yeah, a little.” Dew sniffled, trying to calm himself down and stop crying. Anton dimmed the lights throughout the lab so they weren’t too bright, but not dark either. Dew would’ve thanked him if he weren’t terrified for his life.

Once they got to the kitchen, Anton sat Dew down on the couch— he didn’t have a normal table and chairs there, for some reason— and rummaged through the fridge. Dew’s thoughts raced as he sat there, fear making him unable to move, and he didn’t trust his voice not to break out into sobs if he talked. So he didn’t.

Anton left him alone– abandoned him all day with no food or anything, and now he was back acting so incredibly weirder than usual. Dew had escaped his room. He attempted another escape and was caught, why didn’t Anton seem to care now? Was he too distracted to realize? Distracted by what?

Dew held his head in his hands, exhausted and terrified. At least he’d finally be able to eat now. He looked up at Anton, who was starting to make spaghetti and meatballs. Super random. Dew would have preferred maybe a ham sandwich, you know, something that wouldn’t take 25 fucking minutes to cook, but whatever.

Dew noticed Anton’s hands shaking as he tried to pour the noodles into the pot, and was sure he’d accidentally burn himself. Anton’s hands never shook. Dew would know, for all the times his hands carefully and precisely made an injection or incision into his skin.

“I’ll do it,” Dew said, timidly standing up and walking towards the scientist. He didn’t care anymore about being hurt or trying to escape; all he wanted was food. And if Anton wasn’t going to hurt him now, Dew would take advantage of this moment if it meant he could eat sooner.

“No. I’m supposed to take care of you,” Anton said, weakly shoving Dew out of the way.

“Anton, you’re not–”

“Stop talking,” Anton hissed. He took a device from his pocket and turned it on, activating the mind-control.

Dew’s mouth snapped shut, and any attempt to argue was lost. He looked up at Anton sadly, and sat back on the couch. It could be worse, Dew thought. Anton could be hurting him right now, punishing him for escaping, but he wasn’t. And he had no idea why.

So, unable to talk, Dew just watched Anton struggle to cook. He would genuinely like to help, though. It’d give him something to do after doing absolutely nothing all day, and it’d be a good distraction; something familiar, something safe. Something to drown out the terrified worries that wracked his brain, instead of just waiting for something to happen.

It was silent in the lab again, and Dew was strangely content with that now. Anton was back, there was light, but it was dim enough to not burn his eyes, and there was the noise and smell of the noodles and meatballs cooking. He tried to focus on those things— and the fact he wasn’t alone anymore— to calm himself down enough to be prepared for what Anton would do to him for trying to escape again.

Dew noticed as Anton kept nervously checking his watch and taking small glances back at him every few minutes. He was acting so strange, so much more than usual. What had caused any of this? He wished he could just ask.

Anton sighed and leaned against the counter, sliding down to sit on the floor. He took another long sip from that flask and hugged his knees to his chest. His eyes were puffy. If Dew didn’t know any better, it looked like Anton had been crying.

Dew didn’t move a muscle. He stared at his captor with wide eyes from where he sat on the couch, and almost forgot to breathe for a moment. The atmosphere in the room was tense, and the only thing that could be heard was the noodles boiling on the stove.

“Basil died,” Anton mumbled.

Dew furrowed his brows. Basil? He thought. Who… wait, Anton’s pet mouse?

“I was… I was gonna introduce you two to each other this morning. But she was already gone… They were old, it was painless but unexpected for both of us. Those things just happen sometimes. And there’s nothing I could do. And now, now I’m all alone…” Anton’s voice grew quieter until it was almost impossible to hear. “The passage of time keeps going, even if… even if you’re still stuck in the past. Time doesn’t care about who you’ll miss or what you’ll regret or what you wished you would’ve done. It keeps… going. On and on and on forever. Until all you have is yourself and… Dew.”

Dew stared back at him blankly.

Anton looked up. His expression was nothing like Dew had ever seen on him before. He looked sad. It was so surreal. Dew didn’t think Anton could ever feel genuinely sad about something, being someone who’s completely fine with kidnapping and performing unethical experiments on another human being– excited about it, actually. “You… you can talk now.” Anton said.

Dew took a deep breath. He wasn’t expecting that. Any of that. “Is-is that why you didn’t– um, come down here today?”

“...Yeah, it was. I’m sorry for leaving you all alone. I fucked up. But– But Basil was my best friend and–” For the first time, Dew saw Anton cry.

Dew didn’t know how to feel about this. He should be angry, he should be jumping up and stabbing his fork into Anton’s neck and booking it the fuck outta there, never looking back. He should be shouting and screaming, he should be breaking down asking why the fuck he didn’t come down to feed him earlier, why he abandoned him. Why he left him all alone.

Dew did feel like doing all that, but he also felt a strange sense of pity. He knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, hell his friends were probably feeling the same way back home…

That realization made his stomach turn. Nah, Dew thought. Fuck that.

Dew shook those thoughts away, the thoughts that felt bad for the scientist keeping him captive, the person so attached to his so-called best friend, who was a literal mouse. Dew missed his friends too— and they missed him— but Anton didn’t seem to care about that, so why should Dew be expected to care about his captor’s mouse? Why should Dew have to care about anything this maniac was saying to him?

Dew stood. He looked across the counter to the knife block and ran towards it. He didn’t get very far, though. Anton— without even looking up from the ground— grabbed Dew’s ankle in an instant, making him lose his balance and fall to the floor.

The defiance in Dew’s eyes was replaced with utter terror again as he scurried backwards. Anton’s grip on Dew’s ankle became tighter as he dragged him closer, reaching for something in his pocket– probably a needle, Dew guessed.

“N-no, please,” Dew whispered in terror. “Please Anton– I’m sorry, I-I just– please don’t hurt me.”

Anton sighed and released his grip, making Dew fall backwards. Anton closed his eyes, leaning against the cupboards and holding his head in his hands.

“Don’t try anything,” Anton commanded, but his voice sounded more tired than angry. “Don’t try to attack me or escape, just stay here.” Anton saw the look of fear on Dew’s face, which only made him feel worse… Guilty, remorseful, all the things he tried so hard not to feel. But he supposed it didn’t matter now— how he felt. It wouldn’t change the past, it wouldn’t change anything. “And calm down. Relax.”

The second Anton uttered those words, Dew’s body did, in fact, relax. His heartbeat evened out and his breathing slowed. He looked around in displeased contemptment, knowing he should be scared, freaking out, angry, but he wasn’t. Those feelings were still there, but more than anything, he felt calm. Tranquil. It was as if he were sedated, but still wide awake and aware and in control, but calm about it all. It was a strange feeling, one he was oddly grateful for at this moment.

“I know you’re upset with me, okay?” Anton said, trying to make his voice sound at least a little comforting. “You have a right to be, I made a terrible mistake. I should’ve come down here earlier. It’s not your fault. I won’t hurt you.”

The timer on the stove beeped, and the spaghetti was done. Dew stood before Anton could pull himself up, and went straight for the food. He began frantically opening and closing cupboards, looking for the dishes and utensils instead of sticking his hands straight into the pot and burning himself.

“Here,” Anton said, opening a cabinet and handing Dew two bowls and forks. “Give me some too while you’re at it?”

It wasn’t like Dew had a choice, anyway. He scooped the noodles from the pan and filled the bowls to the brim with the tastiest looking spaghetti and meatballs he had ever seen. Dew timidly handed Anton his bowl, and sat back down on the couch.

“Don’t burn yourself,” Anton said as Dew raised a giant spoonful to his mouth. “Wait until it cools down a bit.”

Dew’s arm froze, the food right in front of him, but unable to take a bite. “Come on man,” Dew exclaimed. “Just let me eat, I’m hungry!”

“Fine,” Anton said.

Dew stuffed the spaghetti into his mouth and instantly regretted it. Mouth burning, he rushed to the fridge and pulled out a cold bottle of water.

“Told you.”

Dew glared at him, but took his advice. He’d let his food cool down a bit. But in the meantime…

“Dew, stop rummaging around in my fridge.”

“Can I at least have an apple?” Dew asked. “While the spaghetti cools down?”

“Fine,” Anton agreed. “But go sit back down.”

Dew thanked him and sat. He didn’t remember the last time an apple tasted this good. Dew was happy to finally be eating, but that didn’t ease the dread he felt.

He didn’t know how he could ever get used to his mind being controlled by a simple command. Anton could control almost everything about him now, what he does, how he feels… he hoped it only went that far. Dew realized he was probably lucky that Anton hadn't taken away his defiance yet, even though he could, so so easily do just that.

A sudden thought occurred to him: why hadn’t he? Surely it would be easier for the scientist for Dew to be a perfectly compliant and obedient test subject. But Dew still had hopes and dreams and a mind of his own. He was still determined to escape. But for what? What did Anton gain from letting Dew be himself?

He decided to not think about this. But still, Dew couldn’t do anything but sit there and wait. He couldn’t try attacking Anton or escape, and he couldn’t burst out in a rage fueled outburst or sob into the couch cushions. Because Anton simply told him not to.

They sat there, Dew huddled up on the couch, and Anton sitting on the floor. The dim, yellow light from the stove, mixed with the taste of spaghetti reminded Dew of cozy autumn nights indoors with his friends. It was that time of year already, and they were probably thinking about the same thing back home.

“I miss them so much,” Anton said. He looked so fucking sad. Dew grimaced. It shouldn’t matter what Anton felt, he was a monster.

“Mice aren’t solitary creatures, Anton.” Dew said as he took a big bite of his spaghetti. “You shouldn’t have kept it alone.”

“No,” Anton began. “Basil was different. She was all but human.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Anton glared at him, and Dew closed his mouth. The scientist rolled his eyes and sighed. “I guess you deserve an explanation…”

When Anton didn’t say anything more, Dew spoke, “...Yeah.” He fidgeted nervously with the spaghetti on his fork. “So, um, are you gonna tell me?”

“Yes,” Anton sighed. He took another drink from that flask and started talking. “It was… around 13 years ago. She was my first um– test subject. I didn’t hurt him, I didn’t want to. But I needed to test something out and I had nobody else to test on– and I couldn’t just clone myself and use the clone as a test subject back then either–”

“Wait, clone yourself?”

“Shut up.” Anton hissed. “So I needed to test something out, and Basil was only a mouse. So I used them for it. And… My experiment worked. She started becoming smarter, like incredibly intelligent for a mouse. And then I invented a device that allows animals to talk, and once again, he was first to try it out. And it worked. And she talked to me. We quickly became friends.

“She wasn’t just a mouse, she had gained the brain capacity of a person. He could think and feel and comprehend abstract concepts and thoughts just like a person can… And their lifespan– that got longer as well.

“They lived for 13 years, Dew. That’s not possible. I made something live longer. And after only a few weeks, she wasn’t my test subject anymore, she was my friend, my animal companion. And uh, he didn’t like that I became friends with every animal I tested on, so that’s when he started letting me experiment on his human test subjects instead of animals.”

“Wait, who’s he?” Dew asked.

“Pierce. The man who raised me into who I am. It doesn’t matter. He realized I couldn’t stand hurting animals so he didn’t force me to. My whole life I followed in his footsteps… He took me in after I became an orphan. He saved me, and taught me everything I know about science.”

“So when I was 12, I started experimenting on human test subjects. It was fun, we had fun. I loved my life and… and then, eight years ago, I met… them.”

“Who’s them?” Dew asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Anton hissed. He only then realized he was probably saying too much. He needed to end this conversation before Dew asked any more questions. “...But Basil was the closest thing they had to anything good in their life. And when they…” Anton’s gaze looked distant, lost in thought. “Um, anyways, Basil was– she was all I had left of them. And now she’s gone. They’re both gone. And, and I’m all alone.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Dew couldn’t help but sympathize with… Basil. She obviously didn’t deserve to die, and Dew felt sad when animals died, it was only natural. He remembered his parents, how he’d tried so, so hard not to think about them the past eight weeks– five years for that matter. It was too painful.

But everything was painful now, thinking about his friends and his life that was taken from him. They were probably missing Dew just as much as Anton missed Basil now, and he didn’t seem to care about that.

But… Dew now knew what he did care about, more than him. “Why don’t you just… bring Basil back to life?”

Anton’s head snapped up, brows furrowing. “That’s unethical,” he said.

“What, did your mouse have a ‘do not resuscitate’ label or something? You do unethical experiments on me all the time! You respect a mouse more than me? Seriously?”

“That's not funny.”

“They’re already dead! Use their body instead of mine! Just bring them back from the dead, that can be your next experiment! You want to invent immortality right? Well there’s your lab rat!”

“Shut up!” Anton hissed. Dew’s words died on his tongue as his mind was taken control over once again. Dew silently glared instead. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. And you’re still my test subject, that’s not changing. Don’t think because now you know a little bit about my past, you can use that to change my mind. I won’t ever let you go. Understand?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry.”

It was quiet again. After they were done eating, Dew put the dishes in the sink as Anton continued to sulk on the floor. This was by far the strangest situation Dew had been in ever since he was brought here. He thought about earlier, about how bored he was. If Anton really was serious about keeping Dew here forever, he must realize Dew needed something to keep him entertained for when he was bored.

“Hey, Anton…?” Dew asked. It was a shot in the dark, but nothing bad could happen by asking. “Re-remember when you said a while ago you might give me back my music? Like my MP3 player and headphones? It-it was just so, so boring being alone earlier with nothing to do and I really feel like listening to music would help me calm down and–”

“You want it back?” Anton asked.

“Y-yeah. If-if that’s okay I mean–”

Anton pondered for a moment. “Yeah, sure.” He stood up and walked to his desk. Dew remembered the mess he made earlier during his stupid attempt to put together a bag of evidence, and hoped Anton wouldn’t get too mad about it. The scientist came back holding a pair of headphones and an MP3 player in his hands. Dew almost felt like he was dreaming again. Almost.

“Here,” Anton handed Dew his things, and Dew felt like he could cry. He’d missed this so much. “It’s not your original MP3 player. I had that and your headphones… destroyed. But I made an exact copy. And these headphones are better than the other ones, with more noise canceling settings and such.”

“Th-thanks. So much.” Dew said.

“Don’t mention it. I should’ve known sooner you’d get bored.”

Dew looked through the MP3 player, happy to find out all of his favorite songs were still there. This was the happiest he’s felt since… since… the vents earlier.

Anton hummed, taking another big gulp of that potion looking thing. “I suppose I should get rid of this, then.”

“Are you sure that’s even safe?” Dew asked apprehensively.

“I dunno. Probably not… But I have ways to heal myself if things go bad. This uh, seems to be working though… numbing the pain and all that… And keeping me thoroughly distracted. I’ll be surprised if I remember any of this by tomorrow.” Anton pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I was an idiot earlier. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“And now, everything just feels fuzzy. Nothing has felt real since this morning, and I’m hoping this’ll all turn out to be a bad dream… But I know it won’t.” Anton looked up to Dew, who was watching him wearily with wide eyes. The scientist tilted his head slightly. “Who knows, Dew, maybe I’ll just erase this entire day from your memory so you won’t have to see me so… vulnerable and sad.”

“P-please don’t–”

“Relax. I’m not like that. I will never mess with your memories like that. Ever. So don’t worry about that. Okay?”

“O-okay.”

Anton sighed. “Anyway, I’m sorry about today. Neither of us wanted this to happen and it will never happen again. I’m supposed to be a genius scientist, not an emotional mess who… who drinks random mixtures of chemicals as a coping mechanism. This is extremely irresponsible and unprofessional… not like I ever cared about being professional, but still.”

Dew nodded, half pretending to be listening to Anton ramble on as he plugged the headphones in and put them on. He started playing his favorite song, but paused it when Anton started talking again.

“Anyway… Basil’s gone.” Anton said. “My best friend is gone, and you’re all I have left.” Dew gulped, this couldn’t be heading anywhere good. “I… I didn’t get to introduce you two, but that’s fine, I suppose. Now I can focus all of my attention onto you, and my experiments. And Dew, don’t think I’ll start going easy on you after this either. …Experiments begin again tomorrow. Anyway, let’s get you to bed, I’m fucking tired.”

“Wait,” Dew said before he could stop himself and think. “I um. I don’t wanna be alone again.”

Anton blinked. “...Okay, uh…” The scientist looked around and picked up a loose chain with cuffs on both ends. “You can sleep out here I guess. Just for tonight.” Anton attached the chain to Dew’s wrist, and cuffed the other end to his own.

“What are–”

“You don’t wanna be alone right? Me neither. I’ll sleep over here. This chain is just to keep you from running away during the night.” Anton grabbed a few blankets from under the couch, and tossed the bigger, fluffier one to Dew. Then he sat back down in his spot against the cupboards and curled up in a ball on the hard floor.

Dew grimaced. Weirdo, he thought. But a sleepover with the scientist was better than being locked back in his room, he supposed. Dew laid down on the couch, snuggling into the blanket. Anton used a device to turn off the lights, and they settled off to bed. Before Dew drifted off to sleep, he gave the chain light tug. It couldn’t hurt to try.

“Don’t even think about it,” Anton mumbled. “I’ll know if you get up.”

“Okay…” Dew said.

“Agh, you know what– just don’t move from that spot until morning.” Anton’s control took hold of his mind once again, and without anything to do, Dew turned on his music and closed his eyes.

“Goodnight, Dewey.” Anton said, half asleep on the floor. Dew chose not to respond.

As Dew laid curled up on the couch, unable to move, he thought about everything that happened the past day. The vents. The broken camera. The strange science concoction Anton was using as makeshift alcohol to drown out all his problems… the fact Anton didn’t know about the vents.

For the first time, Dew was one step ahead of the scientist; he had an advantage that Anton was completely oblivious to. He had the vents. He had a way to escape that only he knew about, and something Anton definitely wouldn’t be expecting. It was perfect. He could use the notepad he was hiding in his pocket to map out the air ducts, and eventually find the way out. And he’d make his escape during the night, when Anton wasn’t awake to mind-control him. Dew’s new plan could work, it would take a while, but it could actually work and that was all he cared about.

Giddy with newfound excitement and hope, Dew turned his music up, filling his ears with his favorite songs he had missed so much the past 8 weeks. Yes, the past day was hell, and a new kind of torture he’d never want to endure again, but it also presented him with the perfect escape plan.

Besides that, Dew felt like he learned a lot about Anton and his weird past. He hoped that could all be beneficial to him in the future. But he was also filled with so many more questions than answers, and the burning desire to never be alone again.

—

soooo hi! i feel bad about killing Basil off,, originally they just existed as something to develop the story, but then i got kiiinda attached. i have a few au ideas where she didn’t die, or where they’re a tiny borrower science lab assistant, and other stuff like that that i might draw or write about in the near future so yea. besides that, normal tllr chapters with normal experiments coming soon, hopefully not in another three weeks

if ur sad about Basil dying, take this <3 and this :P

taglist: @whumpinthepot @shywhumpauthor @whump-me-all-night-long @whump321 @fuckcapitalismasshole @sorry-i-spaced @theelvishcowgirl @catnykit @tettlod @delicateprincepaper @rejectedbytheempty @mijajaj @anothertawogsideblog @creppersfunpalooza @toyybox

let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!

#the last lab rat #my writing #lab whump #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #whump series #scared whumpee #defiant whumpee #winged whumpee #trans whumper #test subject whumpee #creepy whumper #carewhumper #mind control #comfort #captivity whump #death mention #begging #parent death mention #animal death #starvation #emotional whump #minor character death

[pinkytoothlesso11]

Heart of Stone chapter 24

Omg it's been MONTHS since I've updated. 😭 And every time I'm closer to the end... I have so much fun with these chapters, so 8 don't know why it keeps getting forgotten.

Anyway.

Chapter summary: (Strickler POV) With Jim, Claire and Douxie sucked into Stricklander’s uncontrolled portal and Merlin (unsurprisingly) still to blame, Barbara proceeds to chew the wizard out.

With Jim missing, Stricklander takes it upon himself to keep a closer eye on Gunmar and Angor Rot, as a spy.

Only question is: how long can he pretend to be his old self for until he's found out?

#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #Heart of Stone #Walter Strickler #Bular #Barbara Lake #Merlin TOA #Gunmar the black #Dictatious #Minor character death #Angor Rot #tobias domzalski #Archie TOA #Um some more characters mentioned or briefly 'on screen' plus my own OC's #Sorry you don't get to find out what Jim is up to yet #The time travel arc is pretty short too

[sparrowsage]

The Warehouse: Digging Up Old Memories

Buckle up, because this piece is something. I really enjoyed writing this piece, even if it is a giant emotional show lol. A huge shoutout and thanks to @flowersarefreetherapy for giving me the general idea for this piece! I hope I did it justice! And thank you to @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, and @whumpcereal for cheering me on as always!

HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THIS ONE!!!

TW: Minor whump (Jayden is 14), head injury, threatened noncon drugging, implied noncon (off screen), threatened noncon, mentions of past noncon and torture, implied future noncon, character death (off screen), suicidal thoughts, adult character referred to as 'boy', adult language, heavy grieving ((If I missed anything, please tell me and I'll add it!))

“No, I’m sick of doing this shit!” Jayden yelled, stepping back from Logan as the Keeper moved in closer, towering over the teen. “You never stay true to your word! I can’t let you stand by and hurt Sparrow after I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do!” 

Sparrow stared at the two of them, wide-eyed as fear grabbed hold of him. Sure, Sparrow’s challenged the Keeper’s here plenty of times, but that was because whatever ended up happening would happen to him. Jayden fighting back like this? All for his sake? It was thoughtful, but he couldn’t handle the wrath of the Keepers. 

Logan backed Jayden up against the wall, his hand shooting forward to the kid’s neck, taking hold of his throat in a tight grip just shy of suffocating him. 

“I’d be real careful about your choice here, boy. That piece of shit over there doesn’t deserve a hero, let alone a scrawny one such as yourself. Everyone always comes to the realization that they can’t escape this fate, one way or another. It’s easier for the both of you if you just follow my orders. So what’ll it be, pretty boy? Are you going to show me and the bastard here how much of a good listener you are and suck me off or are you going to continue your little defiant act thinking you can best me?” 

Jayden’s hands were around the Keeper’s wrist, doing his best to try and scratch Logan in an attempt to get the hand off his neck, but it wasn’t working. He was too weak. At the question, Jayden stared right back at Logan, his expression sharp enough to cut diamonds. 

“Jayden, please-,” Sparrow tried, on the verge of getting up from his spot against the wall by the door. Logan had told him to stay put and that if he moved, he’d force Sparrow to watch the worst Showing he’d ever put Jayden through. 

“Shut up, runt,” Logan growled, his head turning slightly in Sparrow’s direction. “He has to make this decision on his own.” 

There was silence for a couple seconds and Sparrow could feel the anger rolling off the both of them in waves. 

“You and this whole place can go rot in hell. I’m not following another one of your stupid orders just because you think you deserve respect,” Jayden finally spat, bracing himself against the wall before kicking his foot out, his heel landing a direct hit to Logan’s crotch. 

The Keeper could hardly brace himself before Jayden’s foot connected with his crotch, Logan doubling over for a moment, his hand never leaving Jayden’s throat, before a loud, angry scream erupted out of his mouth. 

In a fluid motion, Logan used all the strength he could muster and lifted Jayden by his neck and threw him to the left over by his desk. Sparrow watched on in horror as he saw the fear and terror flash across Jayden’s eyes as he went flying before the back of the teen’s head connected with the sharp corner of Logan’s desk. He crumpled to the floor as Logan doubled over again, letting out small groans of pain. 

“Jayden!” Sparrow shouted, his body jerking momentarily as he went to get up, but remembered Logan’s threat from earlier, causing him to stay in place. 

He wasn’t getting up and there was blood leaking out onto the floor. Sparrow couldn’t tell if he was breathing. 

“Jayden, get up!” he cried out, Sparrow’s whole body frozen in fear. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Logan yelled, his head turning sharply to look at Sparrow. 

“No, please, he’s not getting up!” Sparrow pleaded, his fists white with how tight they were balled up. “Please, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want, just take him to the medical ward, please!” 

Logan chuckled slightly as he was finally able to stand up straight again. “Oh, you think a bit of pleading will convince me to get him treated? As if. The little shit deserved it, thinking he could fight back like that. Besides, you stupid mutts always seem to recover. He’ll be fine come tomorrow.” 

Instead of continuing on with what he had planned, Logan gave one last look to Jayden and Sparrow before deciding to leave his office. There’d be time to do things with them later. 

Sparrow let out a snarl as Logan passed him to leave, waiting for the door to shut before he rushed over to Jayden, his hands hovering over his body, afraid that a single touch would make his friend crumble into dust. 

#####

“No, you have to let me stay with him!” Sparrow shouted, desperately trying to fight his way out of Josh’s grip on him. “Let me go!” 

“You’re scheduled for a Showing and there’s no way you’re missing it,” Josh growled, his grip seeming to get tighter the more Sparrow fought. “He’ll be fine and you’ll get to go back to the main room and see him once the Showing is over.” 

“No, he needs me to stay with him since you fuckers won’t take him to the medical ward! Let go of me!” 

Josh stopped trying to drag Sparrow forward and out of Logan’s office, instead pulling him in close with an iron tight grip on both his wrists. Their faces were mere inches apart and Sparrow could feel the warmth of his breath. “I won’t hesitate to inject you full of muscle relaxers, boy. You know as much as I do that you’ll do anything to fight back during these things, so do you really want to give up being able to move all because you want to sit by your little friend?” 

Sparrow’s body froze at the threat, his eyes going wide for a moment. Josh was right, he couldn’t go through a Showing drugged up like that. He’d have no control (not that he did during Showings) over anything. He couldn’t get injected with that stuff. 

Josh smirked as Sparrow stayed still, finally continuing towards the door to the office. “That’s what I thought. Once it’s over, you’ll be able to spend as much time with the little runt as you want.” 

#####

Sparrow wasn’t proud of the Showing he just went through. It had to have been the most compliant he’s ever been during one, but he didn’t want it to be dragged out. His only thought and priority was getting back to Jayden to make sure he was okay. 

Josh had been surprised with how compliant he had been, as was the audience that showed up to watch. It was utterly embarrassing, but he didn’t care enough to not do it. He would have been the most compliant pet in the entire facility if it had meant getting out of that Showroom faster. 

Once the Showing was done, Josh walked him back to the main hallway before leaving him there to do his own thing. The moment Josh left him, Sparrow started running to the main rooms, his heart rate picking up as he tried to get to the room as fast as he could. 

Sparrow was almost certain Logan would have moved him out of his office during the Showing, so the most logical place to put him would be one of the main rooms. That, or Jayden had woken up and Logan kicked him out of his office and he made his way to their spot in one of the main rooms. If Sparrow didn’t see him in there, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. 

When Sparrow finally made it to the doorway that led into the main room he and Jayden usually ended up in, he scanned the entire room, trying desperately to locate his friend. His anxiety was starting to climb with each face he saw, none of them being the young teen before his eyes landed on a figure in the corner where Jayden and him sat most of the time. 

He was there, sitting in his normal spot, looking completely fine. Jayden was waiting for him. 

Sparrow did his best to make it over to the back corner of the room, nearly tripping over several pets as they tried to sleep or just pass time, not even bothering to let out any kind of apology before making it over to his friend. 

“Jayden!” he called out, falling to his knees in front of his friend before embracing the teen in a tight hug. 

“You’re okay! You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he said, his voice going quiet as he spoke, letting things sink in. His friend was okay, he was alive and that was all Sparrow cared about. 

“Of course I’m okay. Do you really think a bump on the head would keep me down?” Jayden joked, hugging Sparrow back. 

Sparrow pulled back slightly, his hands still on Jayden’s shoulders, afraid that if he let go, Jayden would disappear. “It’s just - you collapsed once your head hit the desk, a-and Logan refused to bring you to the medical ward, and then I was dragged off for a Showin-”

“Sparrow,” Jayden interrupted, his voice a bit firm, “I’m alright, I promise. I can’t die that easily. Besides, we promised each other we’d find a way to escape this place some day. I can’t go back on my word, now can I?” 

Sparrow wiped at his eyes, tears starting to form. “I’m just happy you’re okay. And you’re right, we are going to escape this place one day. Just please don’t go pissing off any more Keeper’s. Leave that to me, I can handle it.” 

Just then, the entire main room started to fade out, a black abyss surrounding the two of them. Sparrow didn’t even notice, his entire focus was on his friend. 

Jayden looked at Sparrow with a soft smile, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“I know you can. That fighting spirit is what’s giving me hope that you’ll be able to make it out of here alive. If you hold onto that, you’ll be able to escape. Just keep fighting. For the both of us.” 

Sparrow faltered a bit at that. “W-wait, what do you mean by that? We’re going to get out of here together.” 

Jayden didn’t answer, continuing to give Sparrow that soft, warm smile that he cherished so much as he slowly faded away. Before Jayden was completely gone, Sparrow reached forward, trying to grab hold of him before he fully disappeared, leaving Sparrow alone in the dark abyss.  

#####

Sparrow woke with a jump, jolting up from his spot on the floor of Damon’s office. Looking around the dark and empty room, Sparrow couldn’t see Jayden and was a bit confused, but mostly worried. 

Where was he? Jayden had just been in front of him a second ago. He wanted that back, he needed it back. 

The more he woke up though, the more things finally started to settle in. 

Four days ago, he had been brought back to the Warehouse from his two week stay at Volkov’s island, having gone through his ‘welcome home’ Showing yesterday. Two months ago, Damon had been put in charge of training him, starting up a brand new hell for him to navigate on his own. Five years ago, the Keeper’s gave up trying to train him because he was deemed a lost cause and couldn’t be trained, instead just using him as a free-for-all and overall enjoying causing him pain, discomfort and humiliation. Seven years ago was when he had watched Logan give his one and only friend a death blow and then later finding out that Jayden had died all alone while he was in a Showing Josh forced him to go through, unable to be with him in his final moments to make him feel safe and loved. 

As reality came crashing back, Sparrow couldn’t help the gut wrenching sob that erupted out of his throat, the pet clutching his hands close to his chest as he curled into himself. 

Ever since it happened, Sparrow had done all he could to repress that memory to the point that he couldn’t remember it at all. All he chose to remember was that Jayden died. Everything else, how it happened, the look of fear and terror right before his head connected with the desk, how much he tried to fight back as Josh dragged him off to the Showing, Logan’s fucking taunting once he finally told Sparrow what they did with Jayden after he died, he wanted to forget and never remember. 

He had no idea why the memory resurfaced. It had been so long ago, yet now he could remember every detail clearly, as if he were reliving it in full. It was the worst pain he has ever felt and would probably ever feel. And what made it worse was that his head went and twisted the events, giving him the false hope that Jayden was alive and fine. But Sparrow could never see him again. 

After a couple more minutes, Sparrow wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control. It had to have been close to morning, if he had to guess, and Damon would be here soon to put him through another day of hell. If the Keeper walked in and saw him crying or saw the evidence that he had been crying, Sparrow would never hear the end of it. 

Before he could put a cap on his emotions, he felt another sob bubble up from his chest and before he could stop himself, he reared his fist back, sending it straight towards the wall beside him. The wall stayed intact but Sparrow let out a loud shout before biting his tongue, cradling his hand. 

Why couldn’t one of these guys have killed him too? Why couldn’t he have had the peace that his friend had? All he wanted was to be with Jayden again, because he was the only one that made this place bearable. His smile and laugh lifted his spirits no matter how he felt and his presence made Sparrow feel safe, even though there wasn’t a single thing either of them could do when the Keepers came for them. If he didn’t have that, if he didn’t have him here, there wasn’t much of a point to keep fighting. 

The pain that now pulsed from his bleeding and possibly broken hand acted as an anchor to the real world for him and Sparrow was able to stop the tears from falling, taking in a couple deep breaths before he felt like himself again. Damon would probably point out his hand when he came in later, but right now, Sparrow didn’t care. If Damon was overly concerned about it, he’d get it looked at because unlike Logan, Damon wasn’t going to sit by and have a wound that looked serious enough unchecked. Sparrow had no doubt that the Keeper wouldn't let him die before he himself molded Sparrow into the perfect pet. 

Taglist: @mannerofwhump, @honey-is-mesi, @painful-pooch, @whumperfully, @hiding-in-the-shadows, @flowersarefreetherapy, @goronska, @blueyellow8green, @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whumpcereal (if you want to be added, let me know!)

#The Warehouse #Sparrow Cresky #Jayden Cresky #Minor whump #head injury #threatened noncon drugging #implied noncon (off screen) #threatened noncon #mentions of past noncon and torture #implied future noncon #character death (off screen) #suicidal thoughts #adult character referred to as 'boy' #adult language #heavy grieving

[squishablesunbeam]

Consequence of Action Pt. 13

Finally official chapter! Thanks for playing! I adore you all! Also, the first and last bits are from Prim's perspective. I know that's different but I couldn't help myself!

TW: recovering whumpee, panic attack, flashback, vomiting, mentions of past noncon, executions, death of minor characters

Prev

Prim couldn't tear her eyes away from the monstrosity.

She'd been helping her crew clear out the dead when Lopez found another body deep in the lower deck. It wasn't the man with his empty eyes frozen open capturing his last moments of terror or his crushed throat that held her attention.

It was the cage.

She'd heard some of what the prisoners had been saying about what had happened on this ship. The vile obscenities they spewed about Quinn in particular certainly painted a horrific picture that she wished were exaggerations but, deep down, she knew were not. She'd heard enough to make her blood boil before she had them gagged or else she'd skin them alive herself for what they'd done to that man.

They'd also mentioned a cage. This was undoubtedly it. With its rough edges welded together with clear intent to inflict agony upon its occupant. There was dried blood on the teeth of the grating that covered the bottom as well as a fair amount soaked into the floor beneath.

Her eyes trailed back to the body Lopez and Freely were currently preparing to transport to the incinerator.

Quinn had been flogged, recently. He was barely able to stand on his own two feet when she'd come upon him and Collins in the hallway. There was no way he would have had the strength to crush a man's throat in his state.

That meant-

They'd put Collins in that cage. God, how did he even fit.

Her mind morbidly attempted to imagine herself stuffed into that small space and a nauseating wave of claustrophobia washed over her. She immediately shook the thought from her mind.

Collins had been her team leader for just over a decade. They'd seen each other through the worst that human beings could do to one another and they always came out the other end just a little worse for wear. She was even part of the team that had gone in to rescue him after he was held captive by the enemy for three months. Prim had thought she'd seen him at his absolute worst many times over.

So why did seeing him with that collar around his neck fuck with her head so much?

They'd collared him, and put him in a cage. She was pretty sure they'd even-

Prim allowed anger to seethe throughout her body, for only a moment. Righteous or not, anger dangerously clouded her judgment. She knew that well enough. If she had her druthers right in this moment, she'd flog each one of those men in her custody to within an inch of their lives and force them to beg Quinn and Collins for their pitiful lives before tossing them into the incinerator along with the rest of them. They deserved nothing less, and maybe so much more.

The choice wasn't hers to make.

“Ma'am.”

Prim very deliberately let the anger slip through her fingers.

She turned to Freely. “I want this deconstructed immediately. Tear it down to its bolts. I don't want a single piece of this cage left on my ship. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Freely acknowledged assuredly.

She let out a breath and nodded. He'll take care of it.

She turned on her heels and headed back up to the main deck, swallowing the urge to speed up her pace just to get away from all the horrid memories that undoubtedly haunted the corners of that godawful room.

She headed for her new office, dispensing orders as she went. This ship had just begun to fall into disrepair while being under poor leadership and a skeleton crew it seemed. There was a lot to be done.

A few hours later, Prim called for Collins and Quinn to join her. She needed to discuss what to do with the prisoners, their possessions, etc. They also needed to track down any of Quinn's possessions as well, if they hadn't already been destroyed. This all could technically wait, but if she was being honest, she wanted the prisoners dealt with and off the ship as soon as possible.

She fussed at the desk while she waited, stacking piles of papers and log books that must have been the ship's former captain's, practically useless now. Most, if not all, would be burned.

The office was large but impersonal. She'd already taken the time to shift around the placement of furniture to make it more open and inviting. She dimmed the glaring overhead light and made a note to grab some of those warm light bulbs on their next stop at a safe planet. She would have to bring over some of her more personal items from the other ship as well.

A knock pulled her out of her thoughts and she turned, hitting the button that slid open the door.

"Commander," Collins greeted her with a warm smile, Quinn by his side.

She grinned wide, clasping arms with Collins and then Quinn.

"Prim is fine. You know that well enough."

Collins already looked so much better. Much more himself. She couldn't stop herself from casting her eyes briefly to his neck, assuring herself that the collar had actually been cut away and he was free from its weight.

She stepped back to allow them into the room, noting the soft hold Collins had around Quinn's hip.

It looked so incredibly natural for a man who rarely ever displayed even a hint of affection in the many years she'd known him.

A smile quirked up her lips.

She didn't know exactly what was going on between these too but it was clearly something, and it was only growing stronger. As far as Prim was aware, Collins had never had a significant person in his life, at least he'd never spoken of it if he had.

Seeing him so casually tender with Quinn was, well, it was adorable.

Prim gestured them into the office.

“Please, have a seat.”

She stopped short, her eyes flicking to Collins as the blood drained out of Quinn's face.

Oh, shit.

–

He'd already had a brief moment of panic in the hallway once he realized where they were headed but he'd convinced Collins that he was fine. Of course Prim would have taken the Captain's office. She was the highest ranking member of the crew after all. It made perfect sense.

Except right now, nothing made sense.

He was certain he'd be okay, stepping confidently into the room after watching the familiar exchange between Collins and Prim.

But then, Quinn laid eyes on that looming brown desk and his world just slipped right out from under him.

He saw himself, clear as day, curled up on his knees under that damn desk. Naked, his hands bound to his thighs like they always were the first however many times he'd been forced to open his mouth and obey.

It was as if he was watching from a far away corner of the ceiling but also not. He could feel it all. The way the hard floor bit into his knees and the coarse rope constricting his thighs and tearing at his skin.

He shook his head to try and clear the image but it wouldn't jar loose. The taste of the Captain's fingers filled his mouth and he gagged, choking on nothing as the taste turned to something so much worse.

His head felt thick and his world narrowed.

He felt like he might be falling but he couldn't bring himself to care. The room buzzed loudly in his ears and washed itself over him. He could feel all of its edges pressing against his body, forcing him to fit into the tight space under the desk.

Something pressed against his back and there was pain there, but also, it was good. The pain felt good, in a way. It sparked sharply through his mind and cleared some of the fog away. He dropped his head and tried to remember how to breath, clinging to that pain like a lifeline.

His entire body was suddenly shook, just once, and his eyes managed to lock into place, the spinning world around him suddenly centering on one point of focus.

“Collins?”

A hand touched lightly against his own and he looked down at himself, realizing he had pressed his wrists to his thighs. He could feel the ropes keeping him in place but he couldn't see them. He gasped his mouth open and tried to pry them up off his legs. It felt as if he was attempting to merge two worlds that simply weren't meant to coexist. He finally succeeded in detaching his hands from his legs and held them up in front of his face.

They were shaking.

He was shaking.

He still couldn't breathe.

Warm fingers brushed against his face and the here and now flooded his senses, coming back to him far too fast. His body prickled with sweat, his mouth filled with saliva.

“Oh my god,” he pressed a hand against Collins' shoulder and lurched to the side, vomiting onto the floor beside them.

“Oh my god,” he said again, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth before pulling it back and looking at his wrists, fully expecting to see marks from the ropes indented into this skin.

His thighs weren't bare. He was wearing pants and a button up shirt he found in Collins' closet.

Quinn dimly heard himself muttering Collins' name under his breath.

“You're alright. I'm here. Just breathe.”

His eyes numbly tracked Collins' movement as he wrapped his fingers around Quinn's wrist and rubbed his thumb back and forth over the thin skin.

There still weren't any ropes there, holding him in place. He kept his eyes on Collins' hands, each painless pass of his thumb a reminder that he was safe. Collins was here. The Captain was dead.

Quinn gasped out a harsh breath as the image of him shooting the Captain in the head flashed before his eyes.

He looked up, his eyes wide and wet with stinging tears as he searched Collins' face, too many memories battling for his attention at once.

“He hurt you, Collins, he-” Quinn said, his voice strained and panicked.

“Hey,” Collins drew their foreheads together, holding onto the back of Quinn's head. “I'm okay, Quinn. You saved me, remember? You killed him, Quinn. He can't hurt you anymore. He can't hurt either of us anymore. We're okay.”

Quinn drew in a shaky breath, and then another. Collins' hands were like an anchor, holding him to this reality, his shoulders firm and solid and real under his own hands. He breathed, his breath mixing with Collins' as the world slowed down to a manageable rhythm.

He became aware of another presence in the room and his eyes slid to Prim, sitting on the floor with them, just a few steps behind Collins with her arms draped over her knees.

“Holy shit,” Quinn said, pulling back slightly and breathing out a shocked breath, “That's never happened before. Not like that. I could see it. I could feel it.”

He held tight to Collins as Prim sat forward, crossing her legs underneath her, “Ironically, it's because you are actually safe now that this is happening. You're mind is trying to process everything. Collins can teach you some tricks to help you stay grounded, or I can. We've both been through it.”

Collins nodded sympathetically, scratching his fingers over Quinn's leg in a predictable, soothing rhythm.

It was helping.

“Grounded, yeah,” Quinn leaned his head back on the wall behind him, only now realizing that was where the pain was coming from. His sore back was pressed right up against it.

“God, I'm so sorry,” he groaned out, looking down at the mess he'd made next to him and trying to fight back embarrassment from swallowing him whole.

Prim waved her hand absently. “It'll clean just fine. Go rest. We'll talk later, okay?”

He nodded and leaned heavily against Collins as they moved to stand, Prim immediately moving to join them. They were both standing right in front of Quinn, blocking his eye line to the desk. He couldn't quell the need to look, just once more, to assure himself that the other him wasn't still trapped there, under the desk.

Collins moved to help him to the door and he stole a glance over his shoulder, breathing out a breath of relief only once he was assured the phantom was gone.

He didn't know why he felt the need to ask but he stopped himself before heading out the door, “What did you want to talk to us about anyway?”

She started to wave her hand in dismissal but paused, drawing her eyebrows down, seeming to study him carefully. He felt Collins' solid presence at his side.

“I was going to ask if you wanted me to have the prisoners executed. I thought the airlock might be appropriate but I didn't want to make that decision without you both.”

Whatever fear that had just sunk its teeth into him morphed into anger at the mention of the prisoners.

Jackson, Hawkins and Gibson.

It wasn't enough that the Captain was dead. Quinn's every waking memory was corrupted with the thoughts of these men. He could barely eat without the image of Jackson forcing his dick into his mouth through the cage before he gave him any food. Hawkins tore at his flesh and left behind too many scars for him to ever forget. And Gibson- Quinn shuddered, the pain of his care still a bright and sharp memory.

Quinn didn't want to think twice about it. He just wanted them gone.

“Do it,” he said, swallowing down the knowledge that with those two words, he just sentenced three men to their deaths.

“Would you like to be there?” Prim asked.

Quinn looked to Collins who shrugged, squeezing Quinn's hand once. “As long as they're dead, I'm okay with it,” Collins said plainly.

“I think I'm okay too,” Quinn said, looking back to Prim, “Will you do me a favor though?”

“Name it,” she said with a sincerity that put a weak smile on his face.

“Just, maybe, don't tell them what's going to happen. Don't say anything to them at all. Just take them to the airlock and open the door.”

The silence was always the worst part. Being led through the ship, never knowing his own fate before being shoved through an open door.

Quinn thought it fitting.

Prim apparently did too, if the look on her face told him anything.

“I'll make certain of it.”

“Let us know when it's done,” Collins added, him and Prim both sharing an understanding between them as she nodded her assent.

Quinn felt the warmth of Collins' hand at his hip and he let himself lean against him. He focused on carefully matching his breath to Collins' as they wove their way through the hall and back to the quiet and safety of their room.

–

Prim had done exactly as Quinn asked. She informed her crew to bind the men and take them to the airlock without a single word spoken.

It was admittedly gratifying to behold. She watched as Gibson lost it first. He screamed and thrashed against Freely as they were led down the halls, demanding to know what was going on and proclaiming his innocence.

Hawkins was next.

He fed off of Gibson's fear and spewed vile threats at herself and her crew. Mostly though, he cursed Quinn's name and screamed at the top of his lungs the horrific things he was going to do to him.

Except he was never going to have that chance. He was going to die. He was going to be tossed away like trash, without a second thought.

Jackson held out until they were all kneeling in the airlock and the door was being sealed shut between them. He launched himself up at the last minute and sprinted toward the door, hurling himself again and again at the thick glass that kept them safe from the vacuum of space.

Prim stood silently with her crew, all of them expressionless as the prisoners made their pleas and useless threats.

With a signal to Freely, he slammed up the lever and the screams of the three men died with them as they were sucked out into nothingness.

It was the most feared end for those who made their lives out in this vast emptiness. As much as they all craved it, loved it even, the enduring, ever expanding endlessness of space was utterly terrifying. Like the vast oceans back on Earth, space was to be respected and feared in equal measure.

These men respected nothing.

The silence that followed the closing of the outer door had a finality to it that she found both deafening and soothing in the same moment.

It was done.

Freely and Lopez headed back to their respective stations without a second glace and Prim headed to inform Collins and Quinn, hoping that they sleep just a little bit easier now.

“Come in,” Collins called from inside the room. Prim was surprised he didn't meet her at the door as was decorum. Not that she expected it or enforced that kind of nonsense on her crew, it was just Collins' way. Too many years spent in the service and not enough spent living his own life.

She realized why the moment she slid the door open.

Collins was propped up on a few pillows with a book in his hand and Quinn soundlessly asleep with his head on Collins' stomach.

The sight made Prim smile.

“He's good for you,” she whispered, easing quietly into the room.

Quinn flinched a little in his sleep and Collins moved to card his fingers through his hair for probably the hundredth time.

“Too good,” Collins whispered back, taking off his glasses and setting them on top of the open book by his hip.

He looked tired himself, and worried.

“Is he okay?”

“No. He's not," Collins said. He wasn't harsh about his words. He sounded sad.

“Are you okay?”

Collins sighed and finally look up at Prim, “No.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, “If it makes you feel any better, they died terrified.”

Collins frowned deeply as he looked down at the man in his lap, his head rising and falling gently with every one of Collins' breaths.

“I would have had them skinned alive,” Collins said, not looking up from where his fingers were curled into Quinn's hair.

Prim huffed out a laugh, “I had a similar thought. But at least it's done. Maybe there's some peace to be had from that?”

“I hope so,” he said, “He deserves it.”

“So do you, Collins,” Prim said, knowing full well that he didn't believe a word of that. “And for what it's worth,” she gestured between the two men, “whatever you've got going here, it's cute as fuck. You deserve that too.”

Collins actually laughed, a wide grin splitting his handsome face as a blush seeped into his cheeks.

He'd be okay, she thought. They both would be okay, she'd make sure of it. She'd fold them into her little family and give them a change to find their footing again.

She headed back towards the door, “You need anything at all, you let us know, you hear me? And when you're ready for a distraction, I've got plenty of work for you to do.”

“Will do, Commander,” Collins said, the smile on his face coming just a little easier, “And Prim, thank you. For everything.”

“Of course, sir.”

She left them to rest and turned to head back up to the bridge, her mind already on the myriad of tasks on her plate and plotting their next course through the skies.

Taglist: @peachy-panic, @ladygwennn, @whumplr-reader, @hold-him-down, @monochrome-episode, @dogface3000, @skyhawkwolf, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @whumpterful-beeeeee, @maddam-redder, @susiequaz12, @pigeonwhumps, @starlit-darkness

#recovering whumpee #rescued whumpee #mentions of past noncon #panic attack tw #flashback tw #emeto #execution #death of minor characters

[phanficlovep5]

Even the Mountains Crumble

Author Name: rosegardenlake

Rating: M

CW/TW (Remember to Read the Tags Before Reading!): Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Suicide, minor character death

Submitter Rating: 14/10 the holy grail approved

Two Sentence Summary: An au fic followings the events of the last of us placing the protagonist and Akechi in the roles of Ellie and Joel. The fic keeps to major plot-lines from the last of us, but also creatively changes the story in minor ways to better fit the characters.

AAAA This fic is so good, I know it’s extremely long so I honestly dont expect you all to put up a review, but I just had to share this fic cause its just that good. The writing is absolutely spectacular, and the characterizations! Its SO GOOD! Even if you aren’t a fan of the last of us, the author genuinely is so good at writing the tale you just get sucked in anyway. I want this fic buried with me, truly.

reviewed by Ace

Submitted by Anon

#persona 5 fanfic #rosegardenlake #Shuake #rated M #graphic depictions of violence #mentions of suicide #minor character death #mod ace #persona 5 #fanfic review #p5phanficpositivity

[24-guy]

For research purposes can we get Max in one of those 80s coach outfits? (Red short shorts and very tight white tee)

-🧶

This is what I’ve become. (/lh)

Nah but really I love 80s mens outfits. Glenn in Nightmare on Elm was my first foray into it and I hate that today’s culture will have to change a lot until we can truly bring it back into the mainstream.

#asks #🧶 anon #j is talking again #also i know this is from the character blogs because my mutual is the richie account #its fun :) #also related to my mention about horror i think max would be one of the cast to die in the middle of a horror movie #hes too cliche jock to die anywhere but there unless its intentionally a parody #or a different subgenre of horror #the first deaths are minorities the last deaths are loved characters #middle deaths are characters basically marked for death because theyre mean or otherwise to the main cast #and youve got your final girls (neutral) for the survivors #infodump over #not enough people talk to me about horror so im sorry for coopting your ask 🧶 #i hope you dont mind

[soundcrusher]

The super secret thing that's definitely Hot Rod x Overlord

Okay, so, it might have taken me three days to finsish this, but it's done now. Here's the "Secret Option that's definitely not Hot Rod x Overlord" that you guys voten on here.

--------------------------------------------

As a small sumary:

In this little story, Hot Rod never joined a faction after Nyon burned. Instead he became a drifter before becoming a mercenary who works for both factions from time to time.

(Please keep in mind that I'm working with whatever I can gather from TFWiki about the characters and their stories from the IDW contenuity.)

--------------------------------------------

With that being said, please enjoy a roughly 11 pages long fanfic with a pairing that should (probably) have never happened.

--------------------------------------------

Nyon burned, and no-one cared.

His people died, and no-one cared.

He was the only one left, and no-one seemed to care about that. They only wanted to claim one of the last known survivors of Nyon as their own. Not because of what he could offer to their cause, but rather as a symbol of how cruel their enemy could be.

It was sickening, because neither side didn’t think about what their claim would mean to Hot Rod. The Autobots saw it as a duty to take in a stranded mech without a home as a sign of good will, while the Decepticons only wanted him as a symbol of what a corrupted government could do to you. And call him selfish, headstrong or stupid, but Hot Rod did not want to become either. He, like every Nyonian buried under the ashes of their home and burned by the flames of their deathly freedom, would never join a faction that failed to help those in need.

The leaders only saw their goal after all. They could have helped, but neither did. No-one came when they called for help, and no-one tried to save them. They were pushed to the end. They fought till the end, and only now are the Autobots and Decepticons coming. Trying to claim the last remains of Nyon as their own.

And Hot Rod wouldn’t stand for that. No matter how much they tried to convince him, the young speedster only looked at them, before turning his back on everything. Walking away in search of a new home and purpose, far away from everything that provided a stark reminder of what he has lost, but Nyon’s downfall always found him.

At first, it was a single Autobot caught up in a trap set by Decepticons. And despite his burning hate for either faction, Hot Rod couldn’t turn his back on someone who was in need. So, he helped the Autobot out. Bringing them to safety, before leaving them alone. He couldn’t risk getting on their radar and getting another ‘Recruitment Speech’. He’s gotten sick of them the first time around. Especially those made by Optimus.

‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings’, what a load of robo-bullcrap. If it truly was the right of all, why were they fighting and destroying life and freedom across the galaxy. Yes, the Decepticons are also to blame, but still, the Prime should be more self-conscious about his own decisions. And that comes from a known hot head”

Either way, this whole mess he found himself in started with one Autobot, and then it just spiraled. Everywhere he went, everywhere he tried to run to Nyon followed him. And then, when he thought about all he had lost, there was always someone in desperate need of help.

And Hot Rod always ended up helping whoever needed him. Be it Autobot, Decepticon, Neutral, or a poor organic caught up in the middle of Megatron’s and Optimus’ spike measuring contest. He was always there to help out, and despite his late friends' wishes, despite everything they hoped for him, Hot Rod took up arms and learned how to shoot, to fight, take on and dismantle ‘bots and ‘cons bigger than him, stronger than him. And when the factions learned about it, Hot Rod found himself facing them again. Over and over, like an endless song stuck in your head.

“Join us!”

“We could need a mech like you.”

“Why are you throwing away your skills, when you could use them for something greater?”

Those were just a few of the phrases Hot Rod heard while helping out, and he hated them. His skills weren’t supposed to be used by one of the sides. They were supposed to help whoever needed him. Whoever was faced with a situation like his own, like Nyonians, where the only way out was death.

So what if he sometimes helped out Autobots, only to face them on the other side in the next battle? This was war, and he was a drifter turned mercenary, Hot Rod had no obligations to anyone. No matter how many of those he fought with called him a traitor for taking on jobs offered to him. Let them think what they want, Hot Rod knows who he is. The last Nyonian he knows, and one who wouldn’t bow before anyone.

Not before the senate, not before Optimus Prime and not before Megatron, even if he was currently working for the latter one.

At least working for Megatron was easier than the Prime. Yes, he might get the occasional question as to why he isn’t joining his quest, but at least none of those questions were ‘Recruitment Speeches’. Not anymore at least.

But then again, working with the Decepticons also had its down-sides. Especially when it came to the mechs and femmes in the faction. Some were okay, some were annoying, and then there were those who seemed to have it out for him. And with ‘out for him’, Hot Rod meant that they were either trying to pick a fight with, or kill him.

Although, it was mostly the bigger ‘cons asking for a fight, because they never truly believe him that he can take them down. And yet, he always proves them wrong. Right now, he was sitting on the downed Decepticon he just fought while cleaning his rifle. It wasn’t his fault that the big lug got knocked out while fighting him. Also, Hot Rod was quick to notice how others seemed to avoid him whenever he was perching on one of his defeated opponents. So, this quickly became a habit. Not only because it kept others away, but also because it added to his image of a menacing mercenary. And such an image is always good.

But, much to Hot Rod’s disdain, one ‘con seemed to not take the hint. Or at least, he chose to ignore the hostile field the speedster let seep through his cracks, whenever he wanted to make sure others knew not to talk with him. Thus why he internally gagged, as he heard all too familiar footsteps come his way.

Great, as if he didn’t have anything better to do.

“Look what the cyber-cat dragged in…” Muttered Hot Rod quietly to himself, as he looked over at the mech. “Overlord, didn’t expect you to come back so soon. I would offer you a chair, but… yeeaaah. There’s none around.”

Overlord only smirked, as he waved one of his hands in a dismissive way, while the other was placed on his hip. “Oh, that’s okay. I’ve been sitting most of the day either way. That little mission was over in nothing more than a second.”

“Sounds like Megatron didn’t give you the interesting one. Heh, but you’re not the only one who’s been pushed to the side lines.” Hot Rod said and finished cleaning his rifle. Storing the cleaning rag in his subspace, before getting down from his perch and walking away. “But hey, I don’t mind it. Just means work is easier for me and I’ll be gone sooner than later.”

“So, you’re leaving again? Didn’t think you would abandone a fight that easily, Hot Rod.”

The speedster only laughed and shrugged his shoulders. Hiding his annoyance when he suddenly noticed that he had company when walking down the hall towards his temporary hab-suite. “Oh, I’m not abandoning a fight. I’m merely doing my job, while hoping to get an opportunity to finally see the… let’s say ‘fulfillment of my dream’.”

“And what would that entail?”

Overlord sure didn’t take social cues, or he opted to ignore them. Hot Rod was betting on the latter, while praying to Primus that his hab-suit would finally show up. He couldn’t stand the company of others, especially when they were nothing more than murderers who killed just for the sake of killing.

Hypocritic, he knows, but what else can he say? Everyone’s going to become a killer sooner or later when getting involved in this war. Doesn’t mean that Hot Rod had to enjoy it, even if there was a small part deep down that somehow relished in the fact that the mechs who didn’t help his people found their end at his hands. It’s poetic, in a way.

"Many things. Nyon being rebuilt would be a part of it, but… I would say seeing Megatron’s and Optimus’ grayed out form would be the biggest part. I wouldn’t even care who did it, as long as it happens.” That seemed to shut Overlord up for a second, and Hot Rod reveled in the silence. Until the bigger mech decided to speak up again.

“Would you try to kill Megatron on your own?” Asked Overlord, and this time, Hot Rod wasn’t sure what to think of the bigger mech. He didn’t like his tone. It was too flat and lacked his usual dramatic tendencies. Making him feel like prey, and Hot Rod hated that feeling.

“No, I’m not stupid.” Was the speedster's answer, before he let out a sigh. “Everyone knows he’s your kill. And frankly, I wouldn’t take your chance away to fight him.” He said with a laugh. “As I said, seeing his grayed out form is enough for me… Just… may I have one request?”

“And that would be?”

“A front seat when you get your re-match. I want to see the look on his face when he realizes that he can’t win.”

A smirk was all Hot Rod got as an answer, before entering his temporary hab-suit. And as he sat down on his berth, rifle stored away next to it and a knife placed in an easy to grab spot, did Hot Rod think about what exactly he said. Hopefully he didn’t make himself interesting for the big-lipped psycho. He didn’t need the attention of someone who’s known for his obsession over bloodshed and killing. It would only lead to problems. And Hot Rod didn’t need even more problems.

But those fears seemed unfounded, because when he awoke from recharge the next day, Overlord was long gone. Send to a mission which Hot Rod found out was far enough away from him. And so, the Nyonian continued his work for the Decepticons, before going his own way again. Leaving as soon as he got his payment and deciding to keep away from the war for a while.

And a while became a long time, because, as the war dragged on and he had to fight and kill more than before, Hot Rod found himself constantly confronted with the darkest part of his spark. A part that constantly tried to justify his killing by saying it was vengeance for his fallen people, but who was he kidding? War turns everyone into a killer, and Hot Rod was fighting with his urge to just go wild. Thus why he distanced himself from both factions from time to time. He didn’t need a longer list of victims, although he would always keep two spots open. Just in case.

His struggle to keep his darkest part at bay is also why he joined many ships and crews not as a killer but as a security guard. Traveling from place to place, until his latest crew crash landed on a planet he didn’t bother to learn the name of. Although, maybe he should have, because a group of Decepticons herded together the remaining survivors of the crash and him, and led them all back to a prison. An Autobot looking prison that was entirely run by Decepticons.

Great, this was just what Hot Rod needed. A place where he’ll probably rot until the end of his days, or die a lot sooner. Hopefully it’s the last, he’s always hated being trapped in one place. It reminds him too much of Nyon and how many of his people must have died trapped underneath rubble or in a room forced to slowly die.

But alas, fate seemed to make his life a cruel joke, because when his temporary crew was brought before the warden… it was Overlord. And Hot Rod found himself regretting his life choices, because out of all the planets he could have crash landed on, it was the one where Overlord was running a prison.

He really needs to have a long talk with Primus after this, because why must he torture him with having to face the one mech he didn’t want to see? But hey, at least Overlord didn’t recognize him when they were in front of him, and didn’t say anything when they were all herded towards the nearest cells. And as long as he kept his head and spoilers low, he should be able to-

“Hot Rod?”

Primus damn it! His luck was never here to stay, was it? So, with a deep inhale, Hot Rod put on his most charismatic smirk, before turning around. “Howdy Overlord, long time no see.” He said, while awkwardly finger gunning at the bigger mech. “Eeeeeeither way, I’m pretty sure your guys are supposed to bring me to a nice cell. Sooooo, see ya later?”

“No. I would rather see you now. We have… a lot of catching up to do.” And with that, Hot Rod was whisked away by Overlord. Separated from his temporary crew and led to another part of the prison. One that looked more like mechs were supposed to live there, rather than being imprisoned. Which means, there’s only one way how this is going to end, and Hot Rod wasn’t ready for that. Not even when Overlord simply pushed him into the biggest hab-suit he’s ever seen and locked the door behind them.

Great, just great, he was locked in with a mech known for killing anyone he pleases. And who was currently lounging on something that looked like a mix between a berth and a plush chair from earth. Weird choice of furniture, but who was he to judge. Hot Rod didn’t have the greatest taste either.

Still, with Overlord ‘seated’, the speedster remained standing. His hands fidgeted by his side, as his eyes roamed around the room. Mapping out possible escape routes, while he was already preparing a strategy in case this encounter would end in a fight.

“Well, well, well, look what the cyber-cat dragged in.” Said Overlord with the most self-serving smirk Hot Rod has ever seen. “I didn’t expect to see you this soon, Hot Rod. And this time, there are even enough chairs that I can offer you one to sit on.”

“Very clever, Lordy. Using my own words against me. Didn’t think you would remember them.” Was the answer Hot Rod gave, while walking around the room. Noting some energon stains littering either the floor, walls or ceiling. “And it looks like you’ve been… busy in here…”

“Of course. A gladiatorial pit doesn’t run itself after all and, well, you could say my sense of decor is quite… explicit.” Said Overlord, as he watched Hot Rod walk around. Observing how the speedster’s hands would sometimes form into fists, while his spoiler shook from something the Phase Sixer couldn’t quite place yet. “But it seems I’m not the only one who’s been busy, ‘Flaming Death’.” A hitch of the spoilers. One that made Overlord smirk even wider. “It seems you’ve made yourself quite the name, Roddy.”

“… A name I hate, but it seems to stick with me.” Was all Hot Rod said, before sitting down on a chair. “Either way, why am I not in a cell? Because I doubt this is only a way for us to ‘reconnect’, Overlord. If you want news about the Decepticons, I don’t know much. Haven’t worked with them for quite some time.”

“Oh no, that’s not why I invited you in here.” He didn’t like Overlord’s smile. Nor did he like how the Phase Sixer was sitting up, arms propped up on his legs and hands clasped together as he leaned forward. A smirk similar to that of the cheshire cat stretching across his face. “I was hoping you would stay here for a while. You see, the fights have become somewhat repetitive. No-one seems to know how to properly entertain my me-”

“You.” Hot Rod cut in. Barely containing his shit eating grin, as he saw one of Overlord’s eyes twitch in annoyance. “No-one seems to know how to properly entertain you. And let me guess, you’re hoping that I could breathe some fresh air into the fights by participating myself. Sorry Lordy, but I’m trying not to fight or kill anyone currently.”

Overlord looked deeply into Hot Rod’s eyes. Trying to find something that would or could indicate that the speedster was lying, but it seemed that his ‘friend’ was speaking the truth. But alas, he could see something simmering underneath the surface of the truth. And that was enough for him. “What a pity then. I know how much you hate recruitment speeches, but my proposition surely will interest you.”

“And what would that be?” Hot Rod didn’t like this. Hearing a speech from Optimus or Megatron was one thing, but Overlord played in a different kind of league. And he was never sure if Overlord didn’t know about the darker part of his spark. The one that liked killing.

“No need to be so tense, Roddy. It’s quite simple. Stay for a few days and join me during some of the matches. You don’t have to fight, only watch. And if you happen to want to join, I won’t stop you.”

This sounded like a good deal. One Hot Rod could do, but he was still unsure. There surely was a catch. “And what if I don’t want to?”

“There’s always a nice cell waiting for you and then you will have no choice but to fight.”

Damn it, that was a good point. And considering how he was currently at Overlord’s mercy, if that mech even knew the meaning of that word, his hands were tied. So, Hot Rod heaved a deep sigh, before nodding. “Alright, but I’ll be allowed to decide when I go. You know why I don’t like sticking around one place for a long time. I get too twitchy whenever I can’t move on.”

“Of course, of course. But I would still advise you to, at least, stay for some stellar cycles. You can’t really get the full experience otherwise.”

And so, Hot Rod stayed. Joining Overlord whenever there was a fight happening and watching the poor mechs dying for a chance of freedom, but the speedster knew that it was a lie. Overlord never lets anyone live, and he only needed to witness one winner getting annihilated by the Phase Sixer after their hard earned winning streak, for him to get into the arena himself.

At first, he made sure the deaths would be quick. Hot Rod hated dragging them out. No-one was supposed to suffer when he fought them. Not when there was already enough suffering across the galaxy, but then he was confronted with his next opponent. And Hot Rod’s blood started to boil.

He remembered the mech from when Optimus came to gaze upon the burned remains of Nyon. That mech dared to insult his city, his people. Calling them cowards for destroying their home and not finding another way out. And for once, Hot Rod didn’t hold back, nor did he let the Autobot die a quick death.

No, Hot Rod took his time with killing this mech

At first, he made the mech stagger and fall by weaving between his punches. His opponent was taller than him, but this wasn’t the first time Hot Rod faced off against someone that was bigger and stronger. And neither was it his first time fighting a mech who had an ego bigger than what was healthy. So, it didn’t take him long until the Autobot was tired out, and with one quick punch between his chest plates, the big fella fell. With Hot Rod quickly descending upon him. Ribbing through cables and painting the ground of the arena with his opponents energon, until the Autobot could no-longer move. The speedster hard removed every cable needed for that.

However, Hot Rod didn’t finish him off yet. Rather, he took one look at the mech, before igniting his fire. Coating his right arm with flames burning hotter than they should while he slowly pressed it against his opponents chest. Melting his chest plating as Hot Rod’s hand steadily buried its way closer and closer to the mech’s spark. And when he reached his destiny, Hot Rod stared into the Autobots eyes. Tilting his head slightly to the side while smiling sweetly, before plunging his hand deeper. Burning him from the inside.

And only when it was done, did Hot Rod look up. Staring Overlord straight in the eyes, as he slowly got up. Energon that wasn’t his own dripping from his frame, before he turned around and left the arena.

He had given them a spectacle. He had given Overlord exactly what he wanted, and now, he was tired. Primus, was he tired. Using his flames freely without restriction was one thing, but using them in a concentrated way that made it able for him to burn through another Cybertronian’s plating was another thing. There were many things he had to consider after all. The spot where he was concentrating all his flames to, the intensity of the heat used and the willpower to pull through.

And that alone made Hot Rod tired. Tired enough to not notice the looming presence following him.

“That was quite the show you put on, Roddy.” Great, Overlord coming after him was the last thing he needed. Especially when he was low on fuel and his frame was screaming at him to rest.

“Can we not do this now Overlord? I’m not really… in the right mood for whatever this is going to be.” Hot Rod sighed, as he felt his body slowly shutting down. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone all out, but pit be damned, it was worth it. Even if it was just to shut up the dark part of his spark and, in a twisted way, protect his fallen city and people's honor.

“I can see that. Using those flames of yours must have really tired you out.” Overlord grinned, as he scooped up the exhausted speedster and started to carry him down the halls. “I can’t recall ever seeing them. Nor have you ever said anything about them. How come?”

Hot Rod didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help but lean against Overlord, before answering the big lug. “I just didn’t think it would interest anyone. Flames aren’t really that special after all. There are far cooler abilities out there.”

“And yet, I must admit that they fascinate me. Seeing you burn through your twelfth opponent with such ferocity, such bloodlust, one could start to think that you relish in the pain of those you kill.”

Hot Rod knew that Overlord was toying with him, but frankly, he was too tired to indulge him. So, he simply shrugged his shoulders as best as he could, before closing his eyes. Thinking more about the fact that he’s killed twelve mechs so far, with only the last one being a brutal death. Seems like he still has his self-control in check. Good.

"Twelfth… huh? So, did you come to pick up the scraps and finish me off? Don’t think that that would be satisfying for you.”

“Oh no. I’m not here to fight you. I’m just here to make sure you’re taken care of, before your ‘final fight’. I want you to be presentable and at full strength after all.” That didn’t sound good. The final fight, from what Hot Rod has seen, was one between Overlord and whoever the unfortunate Cybertronian was that got so far.

“Sorry… but that won’t happen. The second I can, I’m calling in our deal and leaving this place. And you can’t really do anything against it, Lordy.”

“Are you sure I can’t do anything against it?” Asked Overlord with that degradingly silky tone of voice that caused Hot Rod’s internals to churn in hate. And, maybe, something else. But he didn’t say so. Instead, the speedster online his optics and glared up at the smug looking bastard towering over him. Growling lowly, as he hurled a small blast of fire at Overlord’s face. But considering his state, it didn’t reach its target. Dissipating the second the blast left his outstretched arm.

Causing Overlord to let out a chuckle, as he readjusted his hold on the weakened speedster. Holding Hot Rod’s arm, while gently squeezing it. “I take this as a ‘No’, Roddy. And if I were you, I wouldn’t try to argue with me. Not when you like your arm.”

“Suck my exhaust pipe.”

“Maybe later.”

Later came all too soon for Hot Rod and, turns out, Overlord didn’t really mean an actual fight when he told him he had to be ready for his ‘final fight’. It was a proposition. One he wasn’t sure if he should accept, but considering everything else, he said yes. And ended up with more than just Overlord sucking his exhaust pipe. Because it turns out that Overlord doesn’t just have very kissable lips, he’s also very good with them… and with everything else too…

That’s also why Hot Rod finds himself fighting back a deep blush whenever he remembers that night. Even as he moved on, leaving the prison and planet, the memory of that night never truly left him. It was something else, and to be honest, it was probably the first time Hot Rod felt understood or even heard out. And the only part that caused some sort of anger to rise whenever he thought about that was, that it’s Overlord.

That guy’s supposed to be a dangerous but charming mass murderer who kills only for the fun of it. Not someone Hot Rod feels comfortable around… and yet, the spark wants what the spark wants. And so, the speedster did the only thing he could think of.

Run as far as he could and wait until the war was over, before going back to Cybertron. He wanted a new start, something that could give him a chance to break out of the circle of violence he found himself in, and yet, the only jobs he got were those that caused others pain. And those only caused the dark part of Hot Rod’s spark to grow, no matter how deep he tried to push it back down. It always rose up, just like Overlord said.

Maybe that’s why he joined that weird crew when they were looking for Cybertronians who wanted to join their quest in finding the Knights of Cybertron. Maybe he thought that the Knights could help him with his problem. They were Knights after all, they surely fought some mechs. They should know how to deal with the urge to kill, right? They could help him, right?

Either way, joining the crew might have been the wrong call. Not because it wasn’t fun, oh no, despite him being surrounded by Autobots, Hot Rod had a blast. He even found a friend in the swordmech named Drift. His problems were more with the crew members who knew him from his time as mercenary. Especially that Whirl fella always tried to pick a fight with him, and Hot Rod always obliged. Whipping that mech’s aft over and over, and always landing in the brig for it. If he didn’t know it better, he would say that that big blue mech was after him. Then again, he did kind of steal his version of the Autobot Codex and vandalize it, so, yea. It’s kinda deserved.

But still, no matter how many adventures they got into, or how often he fought with Whirl, Hot Rod couldn’t escape his urges. They always came back to haunt him, especially after he visited Rung to talk about Nyon. It was turning into a problem, one his new and only friend always seemed to notice. And then, Hot Rod would find himself seated next to the swordmech. Trying his best to meditate with him, but it was harder than he thought.

Things have only gotten harder for Hod Rod since the peace time started, and they seemed to only get worse when it was discovered that none other than Overlord was held on the ship. Like, wasn’t his life already hard enough? Did Primus really have to make him face the one mech he loathes and maybe loves the most?

Primus was probably using him as nothing more than a joke, but at least he got to fight the Phase Sixer. And this time, Hot Rod didn’t hold back like the other times the crew got into a fight. Oh no, he went into the fight with fists raised and fire blazing. Taking some of his new crew members by surprise, because they only knew him as a neutral mech who, sometimes, got into fights with Whirl. Not as someone who would willingly go up against someone like Overlord and flirt while doing so. It sure was fun.

“Well, well, well, look what the cyber-cat let loose. Haven’t seen you since Garrus-9, Lordy.” Chuckled Hot Rod, as he dodged one of Overlord’s strikes by ducking and rolling to the side. “Don’t tell me you’ve been… hey!… Waiting for me in that cell.” Another dodge, before he sent a blast of fire into the Phase Sixers direction. Successfully distracting him from stepping on poor Pipes and probably killing him. “If I had known, I would have visited you sooner.”

“You left so soon after our special night and never came back, I thought you'd forgotten about me.” Chuckled the big mech, before driving his fist into the ship’s wall and ripping out a pipe. Which he hurled after poor Pipes. Knocking him off his feets but not killing him. “But had I known that you were here, I would have broken out sooner.”

“Awww, sounds like I’m your new favorite mech! Heh, I bet it’s my charm that won you over.” Hot Rod quickly struck a pose, before jumping to the side and doing a somersault to dodge another one of Overlord’s punches. Doing his trademark finger guns as soon as he stood up-right again. “Come one, admit it, ya missed me!”

“Of course I’ve missed you, Roddy. None of the mechs I’ve met after your departure have screamed like you have.”

That seemed to shut Hod Rod up, because the flamboyant mech couldn’t quite figure out what Overlord meant. And so, he put his hands together and two fingers against his lips, before moving everything forwards and pointing at the mech in front of him. “You’ve interfaced with someone else? You don’t really strike me as someone who would do something like that.”

“Oh no. I actually meant your screams when you burned the hole into that Autobot’s chest.” Answered Overlord, before quickly smacking away the pipe Hot Rod picked up and threw at him. “But now that you mention it, I also missed those screams.” And with each word, Overlord walked closer and closer to Hot Rod, until the small speedster was literally trapped between a wall and the Phase Sixer. And as soon as he was sure Hot Rod couldn’t escape the situation, Overlord leaned down to whisper straight into his audials. Purring softly. “And I’ve been itching for another ‘fight’, little flame.”

But before Hot Rod could say anything, they got interrupted by some of the crew. Much to Overlord’s dislike. “Can’t you see we’re having a moment!?” He yelled, before noticing exactly who interrupted them. “Ah. Why hello Maximus. I haven’t seen you since Garrus-9 either.”

And then, everything turned into chaos.

Hod Rod still can’t remember how he managed to somehow slip past the two the second Maximus bounced on Overlord like a rapid turbofox ready to tear out someone’s spark, but hey. When he was still a mercenary he didn’t really question things like this either. So, he simply stood there. Watching, taking notes on the fighting styles of both mechs and waving at those of the crew who decided to join the fight. And when asked why he was standing to the side, Hot Rod simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “Would you get in between this?” Which was met with understanding nods, until things got even messier.

And now, Hot Rod found himself sitting in that one cell together with Overlord and that poor minicon Rewind. Or at least with whatever remained of Rewind. It was a shame, not only because of Chromedone, but also because Hot Rod kind of liked the witty minicon. He was fun to talk to, even though he often had to pretend to be someone else in front of him. Just like with everyone else.

“You seem unhappy to be stuck with me.” Said Overlord, after the silence between them grew too large. “And here I thought our reunion would be a lot better.”

“Well…” Started Hot Rod with a rather annoyed tone. “ You just killed some of my crew members and poor Rewind over there, I think ‘unhappy’ is underselling it a little bit.”

“Since when did you care about other mechs? As far as I can remember, you never cared about anyone else but you.” He scoffed while waving a hand around. “But it seems like a few years apart can change even the most interesting mechs. What happened to the Hot Rod who fought bigger mechs than him and then used them as his perch? What happened to the Hot Rod that killed mechs with a single shot, and then joked about it? Where is he?”

“Gone! He’s gone, Lordy. Gone, buried and never coming back.” Growled Hot Rod, before smacking his hands against his face. “And honestly, I was happy with that, but then you had to come back! Just walked right into my life and dug him up again… Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What!? Nevermind, listen. It would have been better if he-” Hot Rod was about to explain why exactly it was better for him to have that part of his life buried, but Overlord stopped him with a quick kiss.

“It’s a shame to see you bury such a lovely part of yourself, little flame.” Purred the bigger mech, before sitting back up and pulling Hot Rod onto his lap. “Do you know how thrilling it is to watch you tear through one mech after the other? To see you turn them into grayed out husks of their former selves? I loved seeing you take out all that buried anger on mechs who deserved nothing else but death.” Overlord chuckled, before his smile turned into a frown as he saw how Hot Rod was avoiding his gaze. So, he softly placed a finger underneath the smaller mech’s chin and tilted it upwards. Giving him no other choice than to look into his smug face. “Why are you so scared of a part that’s so beautiful?”

“Maybe because if I… if I show it, others won’t want to be with me? Because it reminds me too much of Nyon? I don’t know…”

“And even if others would avoid you if they knew about it, what does it matter? You still got me, Roddy. I would never turn away from someone as beautiful as you.”

Hot Rod couldn’t help himself not to laugh. This was cheesy, while also sounding impossible. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

But Overlord only smiled, before leaning down to press another kiss onto Hot Rod’s lips. “If I were, you would be dead.”

And then, it was their ‘final fight’ all over again.

#transformers #hot rod #overlord #hot rod x overlord #idw #you people wanted it; I'm just the littel guy who wrote this #if someone got some criticism; let me know #I know that I'm not really good at writing #or portraying certain characters ^^' #valveplug #<- even though it's just hinted at #tw violence #tw minor character death #tw character death #tw mention of death

[whumperofworlds]

@vampiricbloodyraven From my main account!

Sorry this took so long! Finally got a space done for my BTHB! Special thanks to @gadget-rocks and @thequestingbunny for beta reading and giving me concrit!!! Y'all are awesome ❤️

HEED THE TAGS.

Red = completed

Blue = requested

White = planned

#bad things happen bingo #revenge by proxy #kidnapping #marth x roy #fire emblem #super smash bros #rescue #knife #blood #murder mention #minor character death #minor whump #my whump stories #marth #roy #decapitation

[aziraphalesbookkeeper]

While scouting out a place to install the hot water boilers, Varian and Eugene discover something…unpleasant left behind from the Saporian takeover. Something that Varian would rather sooner forget.

Whumptober Day 31: I thought I was getting better

#whumptober2023 #No. 31 #I thought I was getting better #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled the series #varian tts #rapunzel tts #eugene tts #minor character death #LIKE SO MINOR IT'S REALLY ONLY MENTIONED OFFSCREEN #murder #andrew tts #varian needs a hug #FRECKLE SIBLINGS #IT'S THE LAST WHUMPTOBER PROMPT LETS GOOO

[runninriot]

...✍️ making myself cry a little on an overcrowded train

   “I know you’re not her real father, Munson. But you’re all she got left. Chrissy’s parents want nothing to do with her. I tried them first. It’s either you or the system.” Hoppers words are still ringing in his ears, even after so many years have passed.

That hadn’t been an option. No way in hell. Not after the horrible experiences he himself had made as a kid, before Wayne was finally allowed to take him in.

Eddie didn't know how Hopper knew Chrissy had lied on Sally’s birth certificate but that was the least of his concern in that moment. He was glad that he'd encouraged her to put his name down as the father. He never would've thought it would become important not only a year later but maybe it was fate. Because if she hadn’t, taking the girl in would’ve been a struggle, if at all possible.

He was only 23 when life decided to flip on its axis. He had no idea how to take care of a child, let alone how to provide for them both with his shitty job as a mechanic. But he had made a promise to his best friend the day she told him she was pregnant, left to handle it all on her own because she fell for that scumbag Carver that turned heel and ran the moment he realised he’d fucked up. Her own family rejecting her as punishment for the 'moral crime' she'd committed in their eyes.

Eddie had promised her to always be there for them. He wasn’t going to break it then, no matter how scared he was to suddenly be responsible for a 1 year old.

He still remembers the look on Wayne’s face when he came back home from work (they were still living together back then) and found Eddie completely exhausted and frazzled sitting on the sofa, the little girl finally asleep in his arms.

   “Chrissy-“ It was all Eddie managed to get out before he broke down. But Wayne magically understood by putting two and two together (he’d heard of the horrible accident on the news) and was there immediately to pick up the pieces. He took Sally from him and carried her to bed, his bed, let Eddie cry and scream, let out all his anger and fear and frustration and then- sat him down, reassured him things would be fine. They’d manage because they always had. And Wayne would be there for him, for them. No matter what.

#eddie munson #single parent eddie munson #wayne munson #cw: vaguely mentioned minor character death #steddie fic #wip

[the-kittens-of-vol-tron]

Coffee Days 

This was posted to AO3 (Here!) but I know some people don’t use that so I’m posting it here as well

Word Count: 5,461 

Authors Note: 

The italicizes are where they are signing. I know that this isn't a true translation of what they are actually signing (ASL will drop filler words and stuff) but for the sake of reading, I wrote the proper full sentences

-----

Keith pushed through the doors leading into the Balmera Café, a gust of wind pushing him through the door faster than he intended. He quickly ran his hand through his hair and stepped into the line. He gripped his phone tightly in his hand, his order typed up in the notes app. He usually didn’t need to show people his order, but he didn’t want to risk a newbie not knowing his usual.

The café was small, the walls covered in various students' artwork. The air smelled of coffee grounds and he could only assume how loud it was from all the machines running. The atmosphere was welcoming and Keith quickly declared it one of the nicest places on campus.

He bounced on his heels as he waited, trying not to look around the group of girls in front of him to see if he was working. See, while Keith did like the coffee and pastries served at the café, he had come fond of a certain barista.

Keith had found himself caught in the rain on his motorcycle. The weather called for clear skies but as soon as he reached town he was driving through heavy rain. He managed to find an alleyway with a roof hanging off to park his bike. He pulled his helmet off and wiped his eyes, pushing back the hair that fell onto his face.

He walked to the end of the alleyway, scanning the street for anything that looked open. It was still early in the morning and Keith already decided he wasn’t going to make his first class of the day. He quickly looked up the shops in the area; the town was still new to him.

The Balmera Café popped up, holding a 4.5-star review. He checked the hours, they should be open and he crossed the street and headed a couple of shops down. He pushed the door open, a bit surprised to see no one in line or sitting down.

He saw a boy walking towards him, a mop in one of his hands and his free hand waving at him. He was saying something but Keith never really bothered to learn how to read lips; even if he was better at reading lips; this boy's lips were moving too quickly for him to make out much of anything.

Keith put his hand up, pulling out his phone while the other boy rolled his eyes at him. He quickly clicked on his notes app and opened a pre-written note he had used thousands of times.

I’m Deaf.

He turned the phone towards the other boy, his eyes widened as he read the message. His lips still moved, his free hand that was once waving coming up to tug at his short brown locks.

Keith turned his phone back around, preparing himself to write another message before the boy turned on his head and clearly called to someone in the back.

Another person, a taller woman with long white hair that was tied in a bun poked her head around the corner to the kitchen. The boy must have said a couple more things to her since she began to walk towards them, wiping her hands on the orange apron she was wearing.

She gave Keith a friendly smile, her hands slowly spelling, ‘Welcome to the Balmera Café.’

Keith blinked at her, trying to gauge her skill level for ASL. He stuck with the most common signs, responding with a ‘thank you.’

She seemed to be trying to remember certain letters as she spelled out, ‘Café is closed, Open in thirty minutes.”

Keith felt his face grow hot, opening a new note on his phone. Sorry, it said online that you were open. I was trying to escape the rain. He showed the screen to the two employees, both of them looking at each other. Keith turned his phone back around, adding to his original sentence. The door was unlocked.

Allura nodded, finger spelling “for employees,” and Keith made and ‘oh’ face.

Allura reached into Lance’s apron pocket, pulling out a small pad of paper, ignoring his obvious vocal remarks. She wrote quickly and showed Keith the paper. " Feel free to sit in the lobby until the rain calms down." It was followed by " And I’ll fix our online hours."

Keith signed another thank you and took a seat by the window. Both these employees headed back to what they were doing, the boy taking the rest of the chairs down. Keith found his eyes following the employee a bit.

Now, Keith did respect random strangers' privacy and kept to himself but as the boy moved he found was entranced. He figured music of some form must have been playing as his steps held a small bounce and his hips swung back and forth.

Keith fought back a smile, turning his eyes to focus on the rain that was hitting the window. His brother had explained to him that rain makes sounds when it falls on surfaces. Metal was echoey and could be very loud. Grass and dirt were soft soundings. Glass windows were a tapping sound.

Keith obviously had no idea what that would actually sound like, he had been born deaf but it was nice to know what made sound and what didn’t.

The employee walked over to the door, flipping the Closed sign to Open and Keith felt another wave of slight embarrassment. How did he miss that?

The employee stopped in front of his table, holding his pad of paper in front of him. " Would you like to order something? On the house :)"

Keith looked up at him, the boy's face holding a wide grin. He felt a small smile tug at his lips and he pulled out his phone to type his order.

That was about three years ago. Keith went back to the café a week later. His once-a-week visit turned into twice, then three, and now he was going in about four times a week. He had unintentionally memorized Lance’s schedule at that point. And he conveniently always went in when Lance was supposed to be working.

He had grown very fond of him, he used to label his feelings as a slight crush but as the years went on he discovered it was something entirely different. He wouldn’t say he was in love with Lance but he had an attachment he couldn’t explain. He liked his smile, the crow's feet that would form around his eyes as he grinned. He always was happy to see Keith, waving happily and nearly dropping everything he was doing just to say hi to him.

Keith’s heart beat faster whenever he saw him, and he recently had been fighting the urge to leave his number on a sticky note or ask Lance if he wanted to go out with him.

He had learned his name was Lance the second time he went to the café. His name tag was written in blue pen and had a blue cat drawn on it in the upper right-hand corner. He came to know Allura as well, who would sign with him if they were out of a particular item or just to ask how classes were going.

She was in his brother's grad school program.

The owner of the café, Coran, also knew ASL, better than Allura, Keith noticed his cochlear implant the first moment they met. Keith liked the café, he felt comfortable there, he never felt judged, and everyone did everything they could to accommodate him.

Lance grinned at him as he walked up to the counter, and Keith couldn’t help but smile back. “Usual?”

Keith nodded, it took some time for him and Lance to work out lip reading. Keith could handle a couple of words at a time, as long as Lance talked slowly. Keith had begun to look up tutorials and practice with his brother more; it was just a skill he hated feeling obligated to learn. But, he would do it if it meant Lance would keep talking to him.

He pulled out his wallet, Lance waving his hand to stop him. “On the house.”

Keith signed thank you and stepped off to the side. Allura waved at him, leaning against the counter, ‘Sorry, still no oat milk.’ Her sign was starting to get better as well.

Keith could feel himself laughing, hoping the sound wasn’t too loud. ‘It’s okay.’ Oat milk had become a running joke between him and the café. It was Keith’s favorite milk alternative, but the café only had lactose-free milk. It didn’t ruin the drinks at all but the slight aftertaste was still present.

His cup was placed down in front of him, Keith <3 written on the side of it and he grabbed it. He allowed one more look at Lance before he exited the café.

‘Ohhhh he put a heart next to your name,’ his brother teased him, looking at Keith’s cup on the table.

‘Shut up!’ Keith sat back in his chair, trying to focus on his physics homework. It wasn’t hard but it was boring. He could still feel Shiro smiling at him, and did his best to ignore him.

Allura came in sometime later, taking her usual seat next to Adam, a coffee in her hands. She exchanged her own pleasantries, signing a quick hello to Keith.

Shiro, Adam, and Allura work on a project together, Keith focusing on his own homework. He worked until it was time for class and bid everyone goodbye. Once he left the room he glanced down at the cup. His eyes focused on the heart. Lance had never done that before. Maybe he was interested in him? Maybe this was his attempt to make his feelings known. He threw the cup in the trash can and made his way toward his class.

He sat in his normal seat near the front, his translator was a girl named Shay. She came in a couple of minutes before class started, taking her usual stance in front of the class. He had talked to her a bit. She was a mechanical engineering major, she had a boyfriend named Hunk, an older brother who was a doctor, and she was a junior just like Keith. He liked her. He never asked where she learned to sign but he was just happy she was willing to work with him for three years.

He waved goodbye after class and made his way back to his motorcycle. He decided to cut through the garden on campus, it was more of a lounge area than for actually growing food. He never spent much time there, or anywhere on campus. Only in the library study rooms with Shiro, Adam, and Allura, when she stopped by.

He kept his eyes trained forward as he walked, always having to be aware of his surroundings. He was about halfway through the garden area when he saw him. Lance was sitting on the grass with five other people, their backpacks placed around them.

Shay sat on another boy's lap, who he assumed was the boyfriend she told him about. There was a younger-looking person sitting crisscrossed, messing with something metal in their hands. There was another guy leaning over the small person, his eyes trained at whatever they were doing, a dog in his lap. Lance leaned back on his hands, his legs straight out in front of them. He was laughing at whatever was being said but Keith quickly became hyperaware of the girl propped up next to him.

She leaned against him, and even Keith could see her laughing a bit harder than everyone else at his reply. Her hand was pressed on his upper arm and he glanced down at her. She said something to him, Keith was unable to see her lips due to the angle, and leaned up and kissed his cheek.

Keith felt his heart sink, almost as if someone poured cement on it. He tore his eyes away from the group and nearly sprinted the rest of the way to his motorcycle. He started it quickly and tore out of the parking lot, he was stupid to think that Lance would ever be interested in him.

---

Lance was very interested in Keith. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter, watching him leave the café.

“Did you do it?” Allura stood next to him, mimicking his posture.

“Yeah. I didn’t see if he actually noticed it or not.”

Allura gave him a small nudge with her elbow, “just leave more and more every day then.”

Lance released a quiet sigh and started organizing the cups around them.

“Or,” Allura sat down on one of the stools behind the counter, this was a slow time for the café. “You could just give him your number.”

“Allura you know I can’t do that,” he stopped his organization and re-wiped down the counter, prepping for the next wave of people.

“And why’s that.”

Lance paused, his eyes falling onto the table Keith sat at all those years ago. Where Lance had watched him watch the rain outside, a look of content on his face. “I need to test the waters first. Hearts can be platonic or romantic so I need him to show me how he read it.”

Allura nodded at him, waving at Romelle as she entered the café for her shift. “I’ll see you later Lance, keep your chin up.”

Lance nodded at her, putting a smile on his face as a group of customers walked in.  

He grabbed his own coffee and began to head down the street toward his campus. His classes were later in the afternoon, which gave him a couple of hours a day at the café. Allura left first, she helped open the shop with Coran at 6 am so she dipped a couple of hours before her first class. Romelle came in to replace her while Lance left two hours after her. A guy named Matt was his replacement, he was Pidge’s brother.

He sat down in the grass, letting the warm wind blow over him.

“Lance!”

He opened his eyes to the voice, “hey Nyma.”

She plopped down next to him, pulling him in for a side hug. “How have you been since I saw your this morning?”

“Fine, and you?”

“Good, did you give Keith your number?”

“Did you give Rolo your number?”

She gave him a playful shove, her face turning bright red. “I asked you first!”

“Then I take it we have the same answer.”

She slumped next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. Lance rested his head on top of hers. They had been best friends since freshman year. They were in the same major and roomed together their sophomore year up until the present. He loved her like a sister, and maybe if Keith hadn’t walked into his life that rainy day he would have loved her like a potential partner. But she liked Rolo and he liked Keith.

“Can we please try and make him jealous? I want him to just make a move on me already.”

Lance shook his head, “I’m not looking for a black eye.”

“Oh please, he won’t hit you but I told him I like him and nothing! Not even a rejection. Maybe if I show him I ‘moved on’ he’ll do something about it.”

Lance lifted his head up, shifting himself so he could look at her, “how do you know that will work?”

She scoffed, “I know his ex, he only pursued her after she flirted with another guy.”

Lance nodded, it wasn’t his place to say if that was the type of guy she should go for. He glanced up at Hunk and Shay making their way towards them. Pidge and Rolo would join in a bit, usually with his service dog Beezer. “Fine, but if he gives me a back eye I’m taking your skin care products.”

She laughed at him, “okay.”

---

The lights flickered in the room and Keith looked towards the light switch, Shiro standing by them. ‘What?’

‘What’s wrong?’ Shiro signed back.

‘Nothing.’ Keith went back to the book he was reading, the lights flickering more. He looked up with a huff.

‘Something is wrong.’

Keith fought back an eye roll, even if Shiro was right he still didn’t like talking about his feelings. ‘Nothing is wrong.’

‘You skipped dinner.’

‘So?’

He could see Shiro sigh, ‘you only skip dinner when something is wrong.’

Keith closed his book, hugging his knees as Shiro walked into his bedroom more, sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘I saw Lance today after class.’

Shiro beamed at him, ‘and?’

Keith looked down at his hands, signing what he didn’t want to accept yet. ‘He was with a girl.’

‘Oh.’

He took a deep breath, ‘She kissed his cheek.’

‘Oh.’

Neither of them moved for a couple of minutes. Shiro eventually placed his hand on Keith’s knee. Keith met his eyes, and Shiro gave him a smile that he knew was saying that everything would be okay.

The next week he found himself back in the study room, Shiro and Adam had yet to make an appearance but Allura sat across from him at the table. She was reading something on her laptop, occasionally tapping an unrecognizable beat on the table with her fingers.

Keith kept glancing at her, fighting the urge to interrogate her about her coworker. Was he actually dating that girl? How long? What did that heart mean then?

He kept raising his hand to wave at her but each time he forced it back down against his book. His brother and his boyfriend eventually came into the room, chatting to each other as they sat down. Keith gave them a friendly smile and went back to his studies.

The door swung open fast enough to shake the room and Keith snapped his head up. Lance stood in the doorway, his chest rising and falling quickly, did he sprint all the way up here?

“Allura!!” He looked around the room, his eyes briefly meeting Keith, “hey everyone.” His eyes switched back to Allura, “Coran has a baby cow!! In the café!! It’s wearing shoes!”

Keith didn’t catch everything that he was saying but given the amusing look on Allura's face it couldn’t have been something bad. He looked around the room, everyone appeared to be chuckling at what he was saying.

“Yes, he bought a cow named Kaltenecker…I’m not sure why.”

Lance's mouth opened and closed a couple of times. He looked back at Keith, and Keith ignored the way his chest fluttered but tightened at the same time. He gave Keith a small wave before saying something else to the group.

Allura responded and Lance ran out of the room, everyone else watching him leave. He looked towards his brother who began to sign at him everything that happened; Keith found himself not only laughing but falling a bit harder for that boy.

---

“Amanda!” He placed the order down on the counter, and a girl with black hair came up to grab it. “Enjoy!” he turned back toward the espresso machine, giving it a wipe down just as the door opened again; the bell ringing in the air.

He turned around with a smile, “Welcome to the Balmera Café!” His eyes fell on Keith, his heart beating a bit faster. It had been two months since the start of the semester. Fall was setting in more and his normal leather jacket was replaced by a baggy red and black flannel, a black hat on top of his hair. Two other men walked in with him, holding hands; he remembered seeing them all those weeks ago when he ran to find Allura to tell her about the cow.

Keith stopped showing up as much to the café since the day Lance drew the heart on his cup. Mauve Keith wasn’t that into him. He spent his weekends eating half a gallon of ice cream while Nyma went on dates with her guy.

“Usual?”

Keith nodded, stepping aside for the other two to order. They all sat down at the same table Keith sat at, pulling up a chair for the extra person. Lance watched them for a moment, Keith’s hands moving quickly in front of him, both the men laughing at wherever he was signing.

He focused on making the drinks, trying to stop himself from glancing over his shoulder just to look at Keith. He placed the cups on the counter, “Shiro! Order up, enjoy.”

He smiled at the man and focused on restocking the fridge. The bell chimed again and he closed the fridge door, grinning at the next customers. “Hey, guys!”

Nyma and Rolo walked hand in hand, Beezer walking close to them. He was skeptical of Rolo at first but they seemed good together and he hadn’t seen Nyma look so happy.

“Lance!” She dropped her boyfriend's hand and ran up to grasp Lance’s. “I passed my midterm!”

“Congrats! I knew you could do it!”

She reached up and pulled him in for an awkward hug over the counter.

He pulled back slightly, “free drink for celebration?”

She nodded, Lance quickly typed in her order as Rolo scanned the menu. He eventually ordered something with some uncertainty and Lance started working. He placed the drinks on the counter, “will you be home tonight?”

Nyma nodded as she took a sip of her drink, “late though, we’re going out to the movies! What about you?”

He rested his hands on the counter, ignoring the vibration of the phone in his back pocket. “Yeah, I’ll be in. Nothing for me to do on a Friday night.”

She glanced back at the table where Keith sat, turning back towards her roommate, “you could do him.”

Lance stuttered over his words, “Nyma! Stop!” His phone started vibrating again.

She giggled at him, wrapping her arms around Rolo's arm. “Well, text me if something changes, love yah!”

“Love yah too, have fun tonight you two!” He waved at them as they left the café, ignoring how the two older men were looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read. His phone vibrated again and he pulled it out of his pocket. Employees weren’t supposed to check phones on the floor but it never went off this much.

He answered the phone, intending to make it brief, he was the only employee in at the moment, Allura had a test so he didn’t want to leave the floor. “Verónica, ¿qué quieres?”

“Lance, es la Abuela.”

He nearly dropped his phone, his sister's voice was soft, holding back emotion; she only talked like that when something bad happened. She quickly briefed him on the situation and Lance untied his apron with his free hand grabbing his coat in the process.

“Voy a volver a casa esta noche, adiós.” He ended the call and dipped into Coran’s office. “Coran, my grandmother…something happened I need to go. Right now.”

Coran stood from his chair, “I can watch the café until Matt comes in. Keep me posted on what time you need off.”

Lance thanked him, he didn’t know how he ended up with such a relaxed boss and he turned to leave; rushing out the front door.

---

Keith kept an eye on Lance when that girl and other guy walked in. Maybe she and Lance weren’t dating considering she was all over the other dude. He tried to squash the hopefulness in his chest, but even Shiro and Adam were watching the interaction.

They left quickly, and he avoided his gaze so Lance didn’t catch him staring. He glanced back a couple of moments later, Lance was on the phone, his eyes widened with an emotion he hadn’t seen on his face before.

Keith wanted to ask him if he was okay, or make Shiro do it but before he could get Shiro's attention he had bolted out of the café.

Lance stopped showing up to work after that. Keith had started showing up his normal four days a week after concluding that he and that girl weren't dating and Lance left the café. Keith thought that maybe whatever happened would just be a week-long thing. But that one week turned into two and then three.

Keith paced in his room, his coffee cup on his desk; it didn’t taste as good as when Lance made it. He should have been studying but every time he tried to focus his mind drifted back to Lance. Why didn’t I give him my number!?

The lights flickered again and he turned his head, Shiro giving him a look of concern. ‘You okay?’

He shook his head.

‘Can I help?’

‘Find out what happened to Lance.’

Shiro frowned at him, ‘worried that badly about him?’

Keith fought the urge to throw something, ‘yes, yes, yes! You were there! He left in such a hurry and he looked so’ he paused to think if the right word, ‘worried.’ His shoulders slouched in defeat.

Shiro ran his hand through his hair, ‘Allura says that he’s dealing with some things. She wouldn’t say details.’

‘You talked to her?’

He nodded.

Keith took a deep breath, feeling more helpless than worried now. Shiro entered his room more and pulled him in for a hug.

---

Lance let his bag drop to the ground, immediately flopping down on his bed, Nyma had washed his sheets for him the day before. He was officially exhausted. A full month of doing all his assignments online, emailing professors about make-up exams, seeing extended family, saying goodbye to his grandmother, and helping plan a funeral.

He had barely kept in touch with any of his friends, somehow keeping Coran, Allura, and Nyma in the loop. He knew Nyma was telling everyone else how he was and he would get a lot of messages from everyone, none of them seeming upset he didn’t respond.

He really didn’t want to come back but his parents insisted, and he couldn’t take his finals online; even if they were five weeks away. Nyma was out for the night so he texted Hunk who was going to come over with comfort food and his favorite movie.

“Are you going back to the café?” Hunk asked as he took another slice of pizza.

Lance gave a small nod, “yeah after tomorrow I think.”

“Are you finally going to make a move on Keith? Show him what you’ve been learning?!”

“Maybe, I’ll see how confident I am when I see him again.”

He paused his alarm, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It was his first day back to work and he stood up, glancing out the window. There was a blanket of white powder on the ground, the first snow of the winter finally falling. Nyma was still passed out in her bed and he tipped-toed to their bathroom.

As he was finishing up getting ready his phone vibrated.

Princess <3: Morning Lance! Hope you’re feeling okay. Our truck got delayed due to the snow, could you possibly pick up some ingredients we need?

He typed his answer back, exciting the bathroom to get dressed.

Tailor: Just tell me what you need

Princess <3: You’re the best, can’t wait to see you again <3

He entered the nearest grocery store that was open early in the morning. Grabbing a cart and quickly gathered everything the cafe needed. He swung by the dairy section, grabbing some whole milk and Lactaid-free, freezing when something caught his eye. A buy one gets one half off for oat milk.

He grabbed four cartons.

He entered the café, somehow carrying all the bags on with his two arms. “Allura! Little help?”

She quickly came to his rescue, grabbing a couple of bags from him. They both quickly put everything away, Allura snickering a bit when she got to the last bag.

“What?”

She held up the half gallon of oat milk, “this wasn’t on the list.”

Lance felt his face burn under her gaze and cleared his throat. “I just thought the café needed a change of pace.”

“Uh-huh,” she put the cartons in the fridge.

The morning was slow, after all, classes were canceled and more businesses closed for the day. Lance was the only employee from a southern country so he didn’t question when Coran opened up during weather like this.

The bell rang and Lance bolted to the front, leaving Allura to finish decorating the cookies. “Welcome to the Balmera- '' He cut himself off, somehow grinning wider. “Keith.”

Keith started back at him, his face a bit unreadable, but he didn’t seem upset to see Lance. Keith pulled out his phone and typed something out, walking the rest of the way to the counter to show him his screen.

You’re back! Where were you? Is everything okay?

Lance looked back up at him, shaking his hands out a couple of times. He signed back ‘everything's fine. Just some family troubles.’

Keith released a sigh of relief, typing another message.

I hope everything is okay. Sorry about your family troubles.

Lance waved his hands in a ‘forget about it’ motion. ‘It’s in the past, but I’m back to finish up the semester.’

Keith nodded, starting to type another message before he froze, his head slowly turning upwards to meet Lance’s eyes. ‘You’re signing?’

‘Yes.’ Lance couldn’t help but chuckle at Keith’s opened mouth, wide-eyed reaction.

‘You always knew ASL?’

It took Lance a couple of moments to decipher what Keith signed and shook his head. ‘I started lessons over the summer. I didn’t feel confident enough to sign right now.’

Keith leaned back some, crossing his arms over his chest, looking him up and down.

Lance tried not to shift under his gaze, ‘usual?’

Keith gave him a small smile and nodded his head.

Lance turned around, writing a note on the side of the cup, and began making his drink. He reached into the fridge and sent a glance to Keith, who was watching the snow fall outside the window.

He quickly filled the line to the container with oat milk and slipped the container back into the fridge. He started steaming the milk, his palms sweating as he poured the drink into the cup. He took a deep breath and turned to place the cup on the counter.

Keith was still looking out the window, and Lance wasn’t sure how to get his attention. He thought about going past the counter and waving at him but he didn’t want to spook him. He grabbed his phone and turned on his flashlight, turning it on and off in Keith's direction.

He saw it reflected off the metal beam by the window and Keith turned back around. Lance turned off the light and pointed to his cup.

‘Thank you,’ he reached for the cup, taking a quick sip, glancing down at the cup once he was done.

Lance chewed on his inner lip, ‘is it okay?’

Keith nodded, taking another sip, ‘oat milk?’

‘For my favorite customer, and it’s on the house.’

Keith dug around in his pocket, pulling out a bright green slip of paper, ‘Here.’ He slid a crumpled-up piece of paper towards Lance.

Lance reached for the paper, watching Keith leave the café, his cheeks tinted red. He slowly opened the paper, Keith’s number jotted neatly in the center of it.

He found himself chuckling, Allura stepping to question his behavior. “Lance, are you okay?”

Lance held the paper out to her, “I got his number. I got his freaking number.” He looked back down at it. “I just put my number down on his cup.”

She grinned at him, “you didn’t.”

“Yeah…yeah, I did. I decided to take the chance.”

“And it looks like he did too.”

---

Keith allowed himself a moment to breathe once he returned to his apartment. His classes were canceled today and he found himself laying on the couch, his drink placed on the coffee table.

Shiro tossed a pillow at him, sitting down on a chair next to the couch. ‘Lance is back?’

‘How did you know?’

Shiro pointed to the cup, ‘Isn’t that his number?’

Keith shot up, nearly spilling the cup by how fast he tried to grab it. On the side of the cup, written in black sharpie. Hey I think you’re cute and I’d like to take you out. Text me if you’re interested 298- 841- XXXX <3

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he used his free hand to grab it. The same number staring back at him.

298- 841- XXXX: So, are you interested in a date?

----

Thank you for reading <3333

Chapter 2 

#coffee days #posted on a03 #klance #keith x lance #deaf keith #based off my friends #long post #my writing #langst #slight angst #brief mention of minor character death #very slight #keith vld #keith voltron #keith voltron legendary defender #keith kogane #lance #lance vld #lance voltron #lance voltron legendary defender #lance mcclain #adashi

[secret-bug-pain-blog]

@febuwhump Day 14 - Bloody Tiles

Crack.

"It seems to be responding well to the trials, despite initial hiccups. This might be the one to..."

The moth snarls wordlessly at the roaches, barely an inch away. It knows that they can't hear it, not through the wall, but it feels cathartic to imagine that they can. The throb of broken chitin is thankfully absent, despite the rift splintered in their thorax, the flesh reweaving its way between it numb but painless. There is little that it truly feels nowadays, but the exchange was worth it, in its eyes. Rot worms beneath its skin, and it lets it work, directing the repurposed biomass of its opponent to repairing its wounds.

More combat tests. More bugs dead by its claws. It is beginning to grow sick and tired of so much as seeing something thrown into the ring with it, but it endures. The mouthful of mass that it can snatch from each opponent is more valuable than any other resource it has.

They still haven't realized that its healing is more than an effect of the Blight they pumped into it. They still haven't realized it thinks, more than the crystal network in its thorax is programmed to do. They still haven't realized it can plot, it can plan, it can prepare.

Every day it is stuck in testing is another day its siblings suffer. It can feel them even now, their pain echoing through the lines of the network. The crystals imbedded within their bodies are both blessing and curse, a lifeline and a horrible reminder of just how much those around it are suffering. Connection is a double-edged sword, a blade both necessary and painful.

Another sibling cries out in agony. Another light dims, pain jolting through the bond before it abruptly shuts off forever. It sharpens its claws, digging them into the wall between it and the roach scientists.

"...should run a few more tests before calling it in for the night.

Its claws split on the walls. It can see yellow-green hemolymph drip from the cracks, feel the slight loss of mass as its bodily fluids drip out of it. Its rotting blood pools in the cracks between the tiles, leaves long streaks on the walls where it came. The Blight in them still roils in it, damaging the linoleum as it decays at a pace a thousandfold beyond what should be.

It merely watches, claws still fixed into the grooves it's worn in the wall.

The lab reports roll into its head as it prepares to fight again. Progression. Prediction of future progress, refined and redone again. A handful of roaches talk about the potential of its future as a lab guardian. A few more drops of rotten blood spatter on the tile floor.

With every battle, it gets a tiny bit closer. With every life, its Blight gets a tiny bit stronger. With every bug it kills, the rolling, writhing pool of biomass in its chest grows just the slightest bit louder.

Some day, it'll get out. Some day, it'll be free. And when that day comes, then it'll take pleasure in spilling a drop of roach-white for every single drop of yellow-green that its siblings have bled.

#we speak #whump #my posts #writing #bug fables #zommoth #kjdrira #bloody tiles #blood #injury #minor character death (mentioned) #blight magic #the beast wishes to kill #and that is a Feature #febuwhump #febuwhumpday14 #febuwhump2024