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knivestothroats · 4 days ago

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im so bad at feedback but its a great filler imo i would devour it like every other chapter when the story was still updating. Is fletcher naturally confident in the way they're approaching bucks shutting down? Or would they be a bit more hesitant? would Im most fond of buck because he's not just a damsel in distress but male, completely clueless and innocent and actually has a personality (idk if that makes sense ) ty for updating hope you're doing well

Also, im sorry if i ever sent an ask and called Fletcher in she/her pronouns, it was the way i perceived them at first in my mind sub consciously, eventually it got easier to automatically use their right pronouns lol

WE GOT ONE FOLKS!!!

nah i dont think you have so you're in the clear... FOR NOW. nah nah, jokes, i know it takes some getting used to.

As far as whether Fletcher would be confident in this situation, I think that caring about someone's mental well being in the wake of the torture that they are responsible for, is new to them. They're kind of awkward but just feel like they can force through it like everything else. Oh, what, you're lying in bed all day because you're depressed from living in a torture house? Well, I'm making you get up and do things. Problem solved.

The main reason I struggled writing this chapter was because I really like the pair of chapters (28 + 29) where Fletcher realizes they like Buck and care about him enough to go through the effort of saving his life -> they start planning on how they're going to spend the future with Buck -> Buck finds out Fletcher faked his death and no one is looking for him and they won't let him go -> Buck goes off on Fletcher, saying how much he hates them. And he kinda gives up after that, like he feels like he's tried to, if not actually get out of the lodge, at least appeal to Fletcher to improve his situation, and nothing has worked. And it's kind of a turning point for both of them in opposite directions. Even after Fletcher is like "okay I'll just keep it simple and be mean to you from now on," on the ride home afterwards they were like, "I was just kidding about that, let's eat fruit together"

SO i didn't want to have any of those revelations/conversations happen in this chapter. I could not have Fletcher admit that they wanted Buck to be up and about the lodge because they want him around or care about his well being at all. They are not ready to admit that even to themself. And also like..... just writing a filler chapter is kinda hard like there's no significant plot point to work with. I was just like, Buck should pretty fucked up after this and I kinda glossed over that. Tried to make it more of a character study. or something.

And I'm glad you say Buck has a personality, that's something I felt I had to work on for the novel 😅

#itws

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knivestothroats · 4 days ago

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you know how when you struggle to write a chapter and it gets to the point where you can't even tell if it's any good?

well, i'm trying to put a cushion in between "alive" and "party" because when ur reading it as a single book and not just getting updates every few days, it is a pretty jarring shift, and there's not room for the aftermath of all the trauma buck just went through.

thomas pointed out that i can post it and see how people respond, which is true. i've been trying not to post everything so there's some incentive to buy the book if i ever get it published but also....... you've read the story already lmao.

anyway this is that, here it is. let me know if it's shit for realsies i need to know.

Buck stayed in his room so long the next day that Fletcher ended up bursting in without knocking.

He had been lying on his back in bed, trying to move as little as possible, but the sudden intrusion made him jolt upright, causing a stab of pain in his side.

“Oh,” Fletcher said, stance relaxing slightly. “I got it in my head that you might have died.”

“What?”

“Delayed drowning, or slipped into a coma from a concussion,” Fletcher shrugged.

With an exhale, Buck resumed his position, lying flat on his back with his hands folded over his stomach. Fletcher studied him for a moment.

“You good?” they asked.

Buck paused before responding, “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Fletcher grumbled something unintelligible under their breath and left the room.

Buck spent the next two days much the same. Sometimes he read a book, but often he couldn’t find a comfortable position, nor focus on retaining the words. Sometimes he stood and paced the room just to move, but he tired of that quickly. Mostly he just stared at the ceiling.

Fletcher came in again, this time offering the briefest of warning knocks.

“Do you want to die, Buck?”

This made Buck sit up quickly, the pain in his side a slightly duller thud.

“No,” Buck said urgently.

“Then why are you acting like you’re dead?” Fletcher demanded.

Buck sighed and laid back down.

“You haven’t left your room in days,” Fletcher said.

“I’ve left my room,” Buck countered in a small voice.

Fletcher’s features twisted in frustration.

“I wasn’t being fucking literal,” they growled. “I would hope not, anyway. I haven’t seen you out of your room in days. Are you eating?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“At night.”

“Are you only eating once a day?” Fletcher asked. “Or are you stashing food in here?”

Buck tapped his finger against the back of his hand nervously.

“Is that… not allowed?”

Fletcher made an exasperated noise.

“I don’t care, as long as you don’t get ants. Look. You gotta get up,” they said. “I’m not making you do chores because I know you need to recover, but it’s not good to waste away in bed either.”

You didn’t seem concerned when you had me chained up in here, Buck thought, but didn’t say.

“Come with me,” Fletcher ordered.

With great effort, Buck forced himself out of bed and followed Fletcher through the house. They passed the trainees in the living room who were sitting around a pile of locks, racing to see who could pick them the fastest.

Fletcher led them to the kitchen, where an array of jars were set out, most of them filled with dried plant material.

“Help me make tea blends,” Fletcher said. They took a seat and gestured for Buck to do the same. “Do you drink tea?”

Buck settled into the chair with some hesitancy.

“Mm, not really,” Buck said. He picked up one of the jars that looked to be filled with dry flower buds. There was a piece of masking tape on the glass with “chamomile” written in marker.

“Just pick flavors you think will go together,” Fletcher said. “Black teas are caffeinated, green teas are less caffeinated, herbal and fruit are not. Chamomile makes you sleepy.”

Buck sifted through a few more jars. Some of them he did not recognize.

“Uh, I don’t really know…”

“You can ask me what they are or what they taste like,” Fletcher said, already scooping the contents of one jar into another. “Just have fun with it; don’t worry too much about it. Oh, but write down what you’re using.”

They pointed at a roll of masking tape and a couple markers sitting on the table.

Buck picked up a jar of dried orange peels, holding it dubiously as he scanned the other options. There was a jar of vanilla pea pods. That would be good, right? Like a creamsicle. He slid that jar over to him as well. That wasn’t exactly tea, though. He hesitantly picked up a jar labeled Darjeeling. That was… a tea. That’s about all he knew. It appeared to be a black tea; would that be too strong? Would a green tea be better? What tea flavors go with orange?

“Um, what do you… think I should make with orange and vanilla?” Buck asked.

“It’s an experiment, Buck,” Fletcher said without looking up from their work. “Just make a small batch and try it.”

Buck took out a few of the orange peel pieces and dropped them into an empty jar, along with a full vanilla pod. He took a scoop of the Darjeeling, then paused. There was a jar of what looked like grass clippings. He unscrewed the lid and took a sniff. It was labeled sencha. Probably green tea? He added a scoop of that too, to balance out the black. Because why not.

Buck shook the contents of the jar and examined it. He added a few more orange peels, then a cinnamon stick. It didn’t exactly look like tea.

“Is this, um..?”

Buck held the jar up for Fletcher to see.

“Sure,” they said. “What’s in it?”

“Uh…” Buck gathered the jars back up and read off their labels.

“Hm.” There was a hint of a smile on Fletcher’s features. “Make sure to label it so we don’t forget.”

Buck scribbled down the ingredients, putting each one on its own strip of tape in case something got swapped out as the recipe was refined. He watched Fletcher as they mixed their ingredients with confidence.

“You clearly know what you’re doing more than I do,” Buck said. “So, maybe it’d be better if I, um, didn’t interfere.”

Fletcher looked up at him. “Are you asking to go back to your room?”

Buck swallowed and nodded.

Fletcher blew a breath out their nose, turning their attention back to their work.

“Fine. Get some food first.”

Buck [grabbed food and went back to his room] [obvs i gotta write this better you can only ask so much of me rn it's a draaaaaaaft]

Buck jumped when he heard a banging at his door.

It wasn’t too loud, or too angry, but it was different than the normal knock. Deeper and… lower?

The kicking came again.

“Buck, open the door,” Fletcher called to him. “My hands are full.”

Buck scrambled up from the bed to let Fletcher in. They were carrying a steaming mug in each hand.

“I made a tester of your tea,” they said, walking in past him. “And for fun, I made a variation of it that I thought might work better. This one’s yours.”

They held a mug out. Buck took a trepidacious sip. It was… a lot.

Fletcher laughed under their breath at Buck’s grimace and swapped mugs so he could try their version. This one had a much smoother, balanced flavor. Ultimately, to him, all tea just tasted like tea. But he could still find the taste of orange, vanilla, and cinnamon. He took another sip.

“Not bad, huh?” Fletcher said.

Buck nodded and waited silently. Fletcher looked over the contents of the first mug as if debating what to do with it, or as if they needed something to do with their eyes and hands.

“Is there a reason you’re being nice to me now?” Buck asked. “After you nearly killed me?”

Fletcher shrugged and said easily, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

Buck tapped his fingers against the side of his mug.

“Hard to keep up with,” he muttered.

“Well, when I stop beating up on you, that means I’m done being mad,” Fletcher supplied helpfully.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Buck said, not meeting their eyes.

“I’m serious about you not wasting away in your room,” Fletcher said.

“I understand that I’ll still have chores,” Buck responded.

“I mean in general. You’re allowed to watch TV and shit. Go read a book outside or something.”

Buck shrugged, keeping his gaze down.

“Weather’s not too good for it anymore.”

“Oh,” Fletcher said, as if remembering something. They left the room abruptly and returned a few minutes later carrying a heavy work coat, which they held out to Buck.

Buck reached out with slow reverence. He ran his hand over the waxed canvas, and his dad’s name embroidered on the breast.

“Where did you get this?” Buck asked in a low voice.

“Your apartment.”

Buck swallowed. “When?”

“Shortly after you got here.”

“And you just… kept it somewhere?” Buck asked. “Why give it to me now?”

Fletcher shrugged. “I hadn’t made many decisions yet in the early days.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Buck said. It was a familiar sentiment these days.

“Like I didn’t totally know who you were or if it was smart to keep you, but it was a nice coat, so I would have kept it otherwise.”

Buck’s face twitched in anger. It was as much of a reaction as he had energy for.

“It has my dad’s fucking name on it,” he couldn’t help but growl out. His eyes stayed fixed on the coat in his hands.

“Okay? Would you rather it get thrown out?”

That gave Buck pause. He had been holding on to this idea of getting back to his apartment, but he hadn’t stopped to consider the consequences of not being around to pay rent. All of his belongings - had they ended up on the curb? Or impounded as evidence in his disappearance case? What else had Fletcher taken and kept hidden from him somewhere?

Fletcher reached out and poked Buck in the forehead, causing him to flinch back and look up at Fletcher wide eyed.

“Don’t shut down,” they ordered him.

Buck blinked at them. “I thought you wanted me to, like, stop fighting you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t fight me,” Fletcher scoffed. “But the reason I kept you in the first place was because I admired your tenacity for survival. You were doing all the right things despite the pain. Seemed a shame to kill you. But if you give up and waste away then what’s the point?”

Buck looked down again. In a small, half-muttering voice, he said, “If you keep threatening to kill me it’ll eventually lose its effect.”

That made Fletcher laugh.

“Okay, fair. I don’t want to kill you unless you really give me a reason to. Like, if you try to kill me again, I’m probably not gonna let it be a three strikes situation. It’d be pretty stupid of me to let you keep trying, you know?”

Buck bounced his leg.

“You kept me for my tenacity for survival?” he echoed.

“Mhm,” Fletcher responded. No further explanation.

“You… are a very difficult person to understand.”

“You know, I’ve gotten that before,” Fletcher said. “Though less diplomatically. But I feel like everything I do makes perfect sense.”

(just gonna put the ol' taglist here)

@lonesome--hunter @spook-queen @victimeyez @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername

@whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump

@thatsthewhump @utopian819 @whumpinggoodtime @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @pretty-face-breaker

@cursedandtired @aqua-blogging

#feeeeeeeedbaaaaaaack

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knivestothroats · 5 days ago

Text

you know how when you struggle to write a chapter and it gets to the point where you can't even tell if it's any good?

anyway this is that, here it is. let me know if it's shit for realsies i need to know.

Buck stayed in his room so long the next day that Fletcher ended up bursting in without knocking.

He had been lying on his back in bed, trying to move as little as possible, but the sudden intrusion made him jolt upright, causing a stab of pain in his side.

“Oh,” Fletcher said, stance relaxing slightly. “I got it in my head that you might have died.”

“What?”

“Delayed drowning, or slipped into a coma from a concussion,” Fletcher shrugged.

With an exhale, Buck resumed his position, lying flat on his back with his hands folded over his stomach. Fletcher studied him for a moment.

“You good?” they asked.

Buck paused before responding, “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Fletcher grumbled something unintelligible under their breath and left the room.

Fletcher came in again, this time offering the briefest of warning knocks.

“Do you want to die, Buck?”

This made Buck sit up quickly, the pain in his side a slightly duller thud.

“No,” Buck said urgently.

“Then why are you acting like you’re dead?” Fletcher demanded.

Buck sighed and laid back down.

“You haven’t left your room in days,” Fletcher said.

“I’ve left my room,” Buck countered in a small voice.

Fletcher’s features twisted in frustration.

“I wasn’t being fucking literal,” they growled. “I would hope not, anyway. I haven’t seen you out of your room in days. Are you eating?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“At night.”

“Are you only eating once a day?” Fletcher asked. “Or are you stashing food in here?”

Buck tapped his finger against the back of his hand nervously.

“Is that… not allowed?”

Fletcher made an exasperated noise.

You didn’t seem concerned when you had me chained up in here, Buck thought, but didn’t say.

“Come with me,” Fletcher ordered.

Fletcher led them to the kitchen, where an array of jars were set out, most of them filled with dried plant material.

“Help me make tea blends,” Fletcher said. They took a seat and gestured for Buck to do the same. “Do you drink tea?”

Buck settled into the chair with some hesitancy.

“Mm, not really,” Buck said. He picked up one of the jars that looked to be filled with dry flower buds. There was a piece of masking tape on the glass with “chamomile” written in marker.

“Just pick flavors you think will go together,” Fletcher said. “Black teas are caffeinated, green teas are less caffeinated, herbal and fruit are not. Chamomile makes you sleepy.”

Buck sifted through a few more jars. Some of them he did not recognize.

“Uh, I don’t really know…”

They pointed at a roll of masking tape and a couple markers sitting on the table.

“Um, what do you… think I should make with orange and vanilla?” Buck asked.

“It’s an experiment, Buck,” Fletcher said without looking up from their work. “Just make a small batch and try it.”

Buck shook the contents of the jar and examined it. He added a few more orange peels, then a cinnamon stick. It didn’t exactly look like tea.

“Is this, um..?”

Buck held the jar up for Fletcher to see.

“Sure,” they said. “What’s in it?”

“Uh…” Buck gathered the jars back up and read off their labels.

“Hm.” There was a hint of a smile on Fletcher’s features. “Make sure to label it so we don’t forget.”

“You clearly know what you’re doing more than I do,” Buck said. “So, maybe it’d be better if I, um, didn’t interfere.”

Fletcher looked up at him. “Are you asking to go back to your room?”

Buck swallowed and nodded.

Fletcher blew a breath out their nose, turning their attention back to their work.

“Fine. Get some food first.”

Buck [grabbed food and went back to his room] [obvs i gotta write this better you can only ask so much of me rn it's a draaaaaaaft]

Buck jumped when he heard a banging at his door.

It wasn’t too loud, or too angry, but it was different than the normal knock. Deeper and… lower?

The kicking came again.

“Buck, open the door,” Fletcher called to him. “My hands are full.”

Buck scrambled up from the bed to let Fletcher in. They were carrying a steaming mug in each hand.

“I made a tester of your tea,” they said, walking in past him. “And for fun, I made a variation of it that I thought might work better. This one’s yours.”

They held a mug out. Buck took a trepidacious sip. It was… a lot.

“Not bad, huh?” Fletcher said.

Buck nodded and waited silently. Fletcher looked over the contents of the first mug as if debating what to do with it, or as if they needed something to do with their eyes and hands.

“Is there a reason you’re being nice to me now?” Buck asked. “After you nearly killed me?”

Fletcher shrugged and said easily, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

Buck tapped his fingers against the side of his mug.

“Hard to keep up with,” he muttered.

“Well, when I stop beating up on you, that means I’m done being mad,” Fletcher supplied helpfully.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Buck said, not meeting their eyes.

“I’m serious about you not wasting away in your room,” Fletcher said.

“I understand that I’ll still have chores,” Buck responded.

“I mean in general. You’re allowed to watch TV and shit. Go read a book outside or something.”

Buck shrugged, keeping his gaze down.

“Weather’s not too good for it anymore.”

“Oh,” Fletcher said, as if remembering something. They left the room abruptly and returned a few minutes later carrying a heavy work coat, which they held out to Buck.

Buck reached out with slow reverence. He ran his hand over the waxed canvas, and his dad’s name embroidered on the breast.

“Where did you get this?” Buck asked in a low voice.

“Your apartment.”

Buck swallowed. “When?”

“Shortly after you got here.”

“And you just… kept it somewhere?” Buck asked. “Why give it to me now?”

Fletcher shrugged. “I hadn’t made many decisions yet in the early days.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Buck said. It was a familiar sentiment these days.

“Like I didn’t totally know who you were or if it was smart to keep you, but it was a nice coat, so I would have kept it otherwise.”

Buck’s face twitched in anger. It was as much of a reaction as he had energy for.

“It has my dad’s fucking name on it,” he couldn’t help but growl out. His eyes stayed fixed on the coat in his hands.

“Okay? Would you rather it get thrown out?”

Fletcher reached out and poked Buck in the forehead, causing him to flinch back and look up at Fletcher wide eyed.

“Don’t shut down,” they ordered him.

Buck blinked at them. “I thought you wanted me to, like, stop fighting you.”

Buck looked down again. In a small, half-muttering voice, he said, “If you keep threatening to kill me it’ll eventually lose its effect.”

That made Fletcher laugh.

Buck bounced his leg.

“You kept me for my tenacity for survival?” he echoed.

“Mhm,” Fletcher responded. No further explanation.

“You… are a very difficult person to understand.”

“You know, I’ve gotten that before,” Fletcher said. “Though less diplomatically. But I feel like everything I do makes perfect sense.”

(just gonna put the ol' taglist here)

@lonesome--hunter @spook-queen @victimeyez @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername

@whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump

@thatsthewhump @utopian819 @whumpinggoodtime @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @pretty-face-breaker

@cursedandtired @aqua-blogging

#itws

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knivestothroats · 5 days ago

Text

Truth Hurts

Tommy gets strange dreams sometimes.

Part of Professional//Victim

Busy weekend and some troubles with my health, so I don't have the next consecutive chapter ready yet, but it's well on its way. Here is a short experimental chapter I have for this update instead. Feedback is always appreciated, especially for gambles like this one.

Content warnings: Noncon drugging, noncon alcohol useage, forced drinking, implied noncon, gaslighting

“When’s the last time you had a drink?”

Caius, pouring a shot.

“Mm…not sure,”

Tommy, desperately needing it.

“Show me you can handle upstairs time.”

New bar in the entertainment room, Guinness on tap.

“Did you used to drink a lot?”

Dark wood and gold and glass. Too much glass around all this alcohol.

“Sometimes. Mostly beer. Whatever was cheap.”

Caius laughs at his reply. Smiles. His teeth are so white.

“That’s right...”

Maybe Sam whitens them.

“...I forgot about your little punk thing.”

Tommy takes the shot. Sam draws his own.

“Are you a lightweight?”

Jabs it into the side of his neck. He drops his empty shot glass in surprise.

“Hold still.”

Poison in his system, the bite of something wicked.

“You just seemed so uptight, why don’t you relax a little?”

His head starts to swim. Here it comes.

“Do you want to have a good time?”

Nursing a Guinness.

“Are you watching the movie?”

He’s trying his best.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now.”

He’s trying.

“You’re so cute when you get like this.”

Nuzzles into him.

“Is that all it takes? Just a couple shots to win you over?”

I want to have a good time.

“I love how needy you get.”

I want attention.

“I wish you were like this all the time.”

I wish it didn’t have to hurt.

“Have a little more.”

Trouble sitting up.

“Open your mouth.”

Don’t know what I’m doing

“See?Take another sip.”

Don’t know what I’m saying.

“Come sit in my lap.”

“I want to use this on you.”

“Try to hold still.”

“Take a deep breath.”

“You can take it.”

“You’re doing so well.”

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“You earned a treat.”

“Open your legs.”

“Yeah, you love that.”

“Good boy.”

“Sam, he’s all yours.”

Waking up again in solitary confinement.

“I had a dream that you put a bar in the entertainment room upstairs.”

In pain. Hung over? Or sick. Or both.

“That’s stupid. We never have people over.”

Caius leans over him. Touches something sore on the side of his neck.

“Aww…did a spider bite you again?”

Something did.

“Let’s get you fixed up.”

The truth hurts. He’ll take anything else.

Taglist: @suspicious-whumping-egg @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @jumpywhumpywriter

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @knivestothroats @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @whumpinggrounds @galactic-worm @hellodecisionparalysis

@blurryeyeswhump @sirfenris @absolutebeanlover

Special thank you to the new additions to the tag list, hellodecisionparalysis, blurryeyeswhump, sirfenris, and absolutebeanlover, I hope you enjoy!!!

If anyone else would like to be added from the taglist, please let me know <3

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