loopstagirl

[loopstagirl]

Ooof. There goes my heart. This is beyond beautiful.

August of Whump

Day 27: Left Behind

Scott, An Unusual Family universe

“MAMA!” 

Lucy was up and out of bed before she was fully awake, running to the shriek from the nursery. 

When she got there and turned on the light, Scott was standing up in his cot, gripping the bars and wailing with a distress that was beyond any words. 

“I’m here, Scotty I’m here, I’m here!” Lucy gathered him up and held him close, but he couldn’t be consoled, his face red, tears streaming down his cheeks and clutching her with all his toddler strength. “Shshsh.” Lucille rocked him, knowing by now that no matter how much it tore at her, she had to wait for him to cry himself out. 

Finally the sobbing eased into hiccuping sniffles, Scott rubbed his face on her nightie, and she at last could sit down and cuddle him in her lap - he was getting heavy! “Bad dream?” she asked him.

A little nod. “Mama gone. Dada gone. Scotty ‘lone.” 

“Oh pumpkin.” Lucy’s heart broke all over again as she held her baby boy close. It was the nest dream again, the eaglet left behind in the storm. “I’ve got you, pumpkin, mama’s got you.” 

Scott curled close. “Mama stay?” 

There was only one answer she could give to that entreaty. “Of course, sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.”  

[loopstagirl]

Shot in the Dark, Ch 29

Another day had passed. Brains hadn't reappeared from his lab and even John had not yet mastered the courage to go down to their friend. He knew they should try and say something to him, to reassure him that he wasn't to blame for the fact the antidote hadn't worked, but he found himself too reluctant to leave Virgil. None of them had moved since he had fallen into a deeper state of unconsciousness. Gordon had returned an hour later, red-eyed but quiet as he curled up on another bed, watching Virgil.

Grandma knew how they felt, she really did. She too found herself watching over her motionless grandson for hours on end, willing the young man to open his eyes, to give them some sign that he was alive in there other than the beeping of the machinery surrounding him. She was managing to distract herself by making sure the rest of her boys ate and got some sleep. The latter was a losing battle, especially against Jeff and Scott. They simply refused to get any rest. She was just glad Scott was beginning to pick at food again; at least it was a step in the right direction. Jeff was just surviving on coffee and the odd bite when his mother forced it into him. She had already had a hushed but heated debate with Kyrano about whether they should stop the caffeine fix, but the pair of them seemed to realise that would mean Jeff would just completely crash. Despite being worried about him, Grandma couldn't put her son through that, not until they knew for sure Virgil was going to be okay.

But now, however, things were different. It had been three days, and Grandma had had enough. If they weren't careful, more of the beds were going to be occupied. Grandma was not going to stand for it any longer. Her boys weren't the only ones terribly worried about Virgil; it was about time they realised that there were others who would watch over him whilst they went and got a little respite. She had told Kyrano to be in the infirmary in half an hour – hopefully a well planned entrance would back up her words - and so the old woman found herself outside the room. It was only now she noticed she still had her rolling pin in her hand, but she wasn't going to put it down now. Steeling herself, she let herself in.

Read the rest ->

[loopstagirl]

AUGUSTOFWHUMP ’25

A whump event set in August, run by @starryybrained!

Write-up of prompts & rules under the cut!

AUGUSTOFWHUMP PROMPTS:

Day 1: brainwashing / heavy / overheating

Day 2: sold off / bleeding heart / bargaining

Day 3: greed / on display / black and blue

Day 4: blurred vision / hallucinogen / haunted

Day 5: shadow / rules / ransom

Day 6: coughing fit / bone saw / seeing red

Day 7: flashback / faint / noxious

Day 8: defiance / distrust / numb

Day 9: simple / disgust / gutting

Day 10: overthinking / meat / memory loss

Day 11: nausea / squeeze / vertigo

Day 12: long day / migraine / mind control

Day 13: countdown / marked / shame

Day 14: lacerations / limping / intubation

Day 15: religious trauma / dissociation / helpless

Day 16: body swap / disorientation / dissection

Day 17: panting / panic / pet names

Day 18: zip ties / taut / torn muscle

Day 19: silenced / stalking / regret

Day 20: car crash / burns / bloody nose

Day 21: ooze / withdrawal / open wound

Day 22: pistol / body slammed / blinded

Day 23: weep / intimacy / immobile

Day 24: sacrifice / unresponsive / recovery

Day 25: force fed / struggle / found

Day 26: unworthy / endless / execution

Day 27: filmed / lies / left behind

Day 28: long gone / gashes / can’t breathe

Day 29: slaughter / undone / love

Day 30: coward / forget / death wish

Day 31: free day (or, “fuck it we ball” day)

ALT PROMPTS:

Afterlife

Self-destructive habits

Food poisoning

Hatred

Treated as an object

Broken bone

Mindfuck

Amputation

Used as bait

Relapse

Apocalypse

GUIDELINES:

Prompts should ideally be responded to in the form of whump

Creators can make any type of media they want (Yes, this includes any kind of media, no matter how niche. As long as it’s creative, it’s allowed)

You can do as few or as many prompts as you like

You can complete these prompts in tandem with any other event or other prompts (such as in combination with Bad Things Happen Bingo, AU-gust, etc.)

DO NOT use ai. I can’t be entirely sure what is or isn’t, but I trust you to at least put some type of effort in your creations. These events are no fun otherwise!

Tag & trigger warn your content accordingly

Yes, NSFW is allowed (and this year you CAN tag me in it! Aka I’m eighteen now baybeee)

Tag your works as #augustofwhump and/or #augustofwhump2025. (No spaces please! From now on I’ll only be reblogging what I find in these specific tags for my convenience.) In addition to that, you can also tag this account — @augustofwhump. I’ll try to reblog whatever I can!

Extra info and clarifications here

AO3 collection coming to an AO3 near you in the summer of 2025! (Check og post for link update)

[loopstagirl]

Totally not what it is but I like to think it’s a pen/pencil holder for if he gets art inspiration while in uniform 😂

Hi Thunderfam!👋😁

I noticed this thingy on Virgil’s baldric and was wondering if anyone knows what it is.

(circled in red)

[loopstagirl]

Shot in the Dark, Ch 28

Jeff sat by the edge of Virgil's bed, all but ignoring the other sons crowding around. Having eventually succumbed to sleep, Gordon was curled up in the chair next to him covered with a blanket. It had certainly helped ease the mood slightly, watching his two eldest try and move their brother into a more comfortable position from where he had been sitting on the floor without waking – or dropping - the young man in the process. John was standing by the window - although he had thankfully stopped his earlier pacing as he now just gazed quietly at the heavens. Normally Jeff would have been demanding that his son went and got some sleep, but he knew Brains was still worried about the possibility of concussion. Scott was the other side of the bed, still holding onto Virgil's hand but staring into space, his mind far away. His father could only hope that he was finding some sort of sanctuary away from the hell they had found themselves in.

Despite Brains' temporary solution having been administered a further four times in an attempt to keep Virgil clinging on, Jeff knew they were beginning to run out of time. The boys had been back for almost thirteen hours, and whilst Virgil's heart had kept beating this time, Jeff felt as if he was watching his son fade away in front of his eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. Virgil's temperature had rocketed after four hours, his breathing becoming more strained, even with all of the machines and drips Brains had set up.

Now, Jeff was just left looking at a son who looked nothing short of dead. The sight was a cruel twist of déjà-vu. Jeff had sat in a position like this before, watching a chestnut-haired Tracy slip away from him. Although Virgil looked and acted like Lucy perhaps more than his brothers, Jeff was inwardly begging his son to not follow his mother on this occasion. He had to keep fighting, he just had to.

But at the same time, the father knew those were the exact same words he had uttered last time. It had been bad enough when Gordon had his crash, having to listen to the doctors telling him that his son was probably never going to wake up, and if he did he would most likely be paralysed. But that had been something that was purely an accident. This was his fault. He had set up IR; he had sent them out there. If it hadn't been for Scott's earlier breakdown, International Rescue would already be offline, never to fly again.

Read the rest ->

[loopstagirl]

This was a lot of fun to create!😂😈

A post card to the Hood whilst he's in prison, from the Tracy brothers.

[loopstagirl]

“Your fanfic idea is so cringe” I know isn’t it brilliant

[loopstagirl]

Anthony was the only father they knew.

Anthony, Gregory, and Hyacinth Bridgerton (Bridgerton 2020-)

[loopstagirl]

AUGUSTOFWHUMP ’25

A whump event set in August, run by @starryybrained!

Write-up of prompts & rules under the cut!

AUGUSTOFWHUMP PROMPTS:

Day 1: brainwashing / heavy / overheating

Day 2: sold off / bleeding heart / bargaining

Day 3: greed / on display / black and blue

Day 4: blurred vision / hallucinogen / haunted

Day 5: shadow / rules / ransom

Day 6: coughing fit / bone saw / seeing red

Day 7: flashback / faint / noxious

Day 8: defiance / distrust / numb

Day 9: simple / disgust / gutting

Day 10: overthinking / meat / memory loss

Day 11: nausea / squeeze / vertigo

Day 12: long day / migraine / mind control

Day 13: countdown / marked / shame

Day 14: lacerations / limping / intubation

Day 15: religious trauma / dissociation / helpless

Day 16: body swap / disorientation / dissection

Day 17: panting / panic / pet names

Day 18: zip ties / taut / torn muscle

Day 19: silenced / stalking / regret

Day 20: car crash / burns / bloody nose

Day 21: ooze / withdrawal / open wound

Day 22: pistol / body slammed / blinded

Day 23: weep / intimacy / immobile

Day 24: sacrifice / unresponsive / recovery

Day 25: force fed / struggle / found

Day 26: unworthy / endless / execution

Day 27: filmed / lies / left behind

Day 28: long gone / gashes / can’t breathe

Day 29: slaughter / undone / love

Day 30: coward / forget / death wish

Day 31: free day (or, “fuck it we ball” day)

ALT PROMPTS:

Afterlife

Self-destructive habits

Food poisoning

Hatred

Treated as an object

Broken bone

Mindfuck

Amputation

Used as bait

Relapse

Apocalypse

GUIDELINES:

Prompts should ideally be responded to in the form of whump

Creators can make any type of media they want (Yes, this includes any kind of media, no matter how niche. As long as it’s creative, it’s allowed)

You can do as few or as many prompts as you like

You can complete these prompts in tandem with any other event or other prompts (such as in combination with Bad Things Happen Bingo, AU-gust, etc.)

DO NOT use ai. I can’t be entirely sure what is or isn’t, but I trust you to at least put some type of effort in your creations. These events are no fun otherwise!

Tag & trigger warn your content accordingly

Yes, NSFW is allowed (and this year you CAN tag me in it! Aka I’m eighteen now baybeee)

Tag your works as #augustofwhump and/or #augustofwhump2025. (No spaces please! From now on I’ll only be reblogging what I find in these specific tags for my convenience.) In addition to that, you can also tag this account — @augustofwhump. I’ll try to reblog whatever I can!

Extra info and clarifications here

AO3 collection coming to an AO3 near you in the summer of 2025! (Check og post for link update)

[loopstagirl]

Dog Days

Read on Ao3

Written for my Merlin Bingo card prompt: Dog Walker Au

-x-

It was his fault. He wasn’t paying attention. 

Or, rather, he was, but in a distracted ‘we’ve done these hundreds of times’ sort of way. 

They always came to this field, at this time. He always let Aithusa off the lead to frolic in the long grass, going wherever her nose took her, trusting in her recall. While he always walked slowly, hoping for a glimpse of... him. 

The golden-haired god who also walked his dog along this stretch at this time of day.  

Not that Merlin knew why he still looked out for him. The man was gorgeous, true enough, but he was rude. He was the only dog walker that never said good morning, never had comment about the weather. It had been the highlight of Merlin’s week when he’d once got a grunt out of him. 

It was fine. It was all fine. Morgana once told him that her half-brother (a man from many stories who Merlin had never actually met) enjoyed his dog walks as a chance to appreciate silence and nature, given the demands on his attention the rest of the time. Maybe this fellow was just doing the same? 

Still, silence or not, Merlin wasn’t above loitering on the path just to get a glimpse. It always put him in a good mood. 

But it meant his attention wasn’t completely on Aithusa when she suddenly yelped in pain. 

Merlin sprang forward before the sound fully registered. It had been a cry of pure distress. In the three steps it took him to reach his spaniel, all sorts of horrible scenarios had raced through his head. 

He found Aithusa huddled in a patch of long grass. 

“Here, girl,” he called softly. “What is it? I’m here; it’s okay; I’m here.” 

He kept up the reassurances as he moved closer. Aithusa took a step towards him, but she cried out again, holding up her front paw. He squinted as he advanced, his stomach giving a sickening lurch as he spotted blood on the ground where her paw had touched. 

Merlin lunged forward to close the distance, not wanting her to put her paw down again. As he did, something cracked under his foot. Glass. There was glass all around them, fragments of what looked like several broken bottles. Aithusa whined her distress. 

“No,” Merlin said. “Stay, girl. Stay there. I’m coming.” 

A few more steps, and he had her. Scooping her into his arms, Merlin hurried back to the path, wanting to be on safer ground before seeing what the damage was. 

He dropped to his knees, cradling her on his lap. He tried to reach for her paw, but Aithusa snapped at him in clear warning. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he crooned at her. “Let me just take a look.” 

Light was glinting off something in her paw, no doubt a shard of glass embedded from where she’d stepped on it. She was whining in pain and the sound broke Merlin’s heart. 

Awkwardly, he slipped out of his jack to be able to wrap it around her. 

“You alright?” a slightly gruff voice said from behind him. 

Merlin spared only a quick glance over his shoulder. It was him: the god-like figure who haunted him. Or, at least, haunted his walk. 

And Merlin couldn’t care less. 

He didn’t have time for rude, arrogant asses, not when Aithusa was whimpering on his lap. 

“Fine,” he said, shortly. “Don’t go in the grass. There’s g-glass.” 

His voice cracked, knowing some of said glass was in her paw. 

“Stay.” 

“What?” Merlin glanced around, confused, then remembered the man was out here for the same reason as him. Of course, he was talking to his dog! 

The gorgeous long-haired Alsatian promptly sat where it was, head tilted to one side as it watched is master. 

“Impressive,” Merlin muttered. He hadn’t intended to say it out loud. The man shrugged. 

“We’ve worked together for a long time. He’s a good boy.” 

The words registered in some part of Merlin’s mind, but he wasn’t actively listening. His attention was fixed on the squirming dog on his lap as he tried to wrap his jacket around her to make carrying easier. 

“Here.” 

The man dropped down beside them, not seeming to care that his obviously expensive trousers were now getting muddy. He reached for Aithusa, who growled warningly. 

“She’s usually friendly,” Merlin said, “it’s just-,” 

“She’s hurt,” the man finished. He clicked his tongue, and his dog trotted closer, sitting down at Merlin’s side. The man reached for Aithusa again and, this time, the larger dog gave a soft growl of his own. Aithusa shrank back into Merlin, but didn’t snap again. 

The man scooped Aithusa into his arms, jacket and all. He held her in a confident way that suggested he had done this sort of thing before. Aithusa obviously felt safe enough as, other than a small yip at Merlin, she didn’t seem to mind being dognapped. 

“I have to get her to the vets,” Merlin said, scrambling upright. He tried not to think about how he would’ve managed that with Aithusa in his arms. He hurried after the man currently walking off with his dog. 

“My place is closer,” the guy said. “We’ll go straight to the stables; there’ll be something there we can use.” 

“You live in a stable?” Merlin said, baffled. Despite his confusion, he was still impressed when the dog fell into a perfect heel with his master at nothing more than a hand signal. 

The man gave him an incredulous look. 

“Of course I don’t live in the stables.” 

“Ah. You’re a stable boy.” 

The man gave Merlin that look again. Merlin mentally face-palmed. A stable boy? What world had he fallen into, and how did he get back before he made even more of a twat of himself? 

“I’m Merlin,” he settled for saying instead. 

“I know.” 

“You... know?” 

Had they been introduced before? No. Merlin was sure he’d only heard one word from this man before. That had been ‘here’, when he’d passed him a plastic bag when the sole of Merlin’s shoe had fallen off in the pouring rain. He’d been gone before Merlin could even thank him. 

“You talk to yourself,” the man said. He had the type of smirk that might’ve done things to Merlin’s insides if he hadn’t been too busy chanting ‘twat, twat, twat’ to himself. 

Finally, though, the man said, “Arthur.” 

Not trusting himself, Merlin just nodded. Arthur led him who-knew-where, and Merlin was so focused on his injured dog that he forgot to dwell on how gorgeous Arthur’s ass was in those expensive trousers. 

They turned off the public footpath and Merlin realised by the manicured lawns and trimmed hedges either side of them that they must be on someone’s property. It was only Arthur’s long, confident strides that stopped Merlin from saying something. 

He felt like he’d walked at least another mile before a building came into view. Merlin’s jaw dropped. 

He’d thought ‘The Stables’ was just the name of Arthur’s house. But no. He’d meant actual, real-life stables with horses and everything. 

Merlin meekly followed Arthur in. It was well-lit and clean, with a sweet smell of hay overlaying the other, more unpleasant, smells that came with several stalls containing horses. 

Long noses appeared over stall doors as Arthur passed, all nickering for his attention. His dog padded off to an empty stall and lay down, completely at ease. 

“You are a stable boy,” Merlin breathed. It wasn’t just the horses’ obvious familiarity with Arthur. It was as if Arthur’s entire boy had relaxed, his earlier smirk replaced by a soft smile as he murmured something to each animal he passed. 

It was clear that it wasn’t only his dog that felt at ease here. 

A neat, proper, little man hurried from a back room. He stopped when he saw Merlin. 

“Injured dog,” Arthur said, drawing attention to the bundle in his arms before the man said anything. “We need Leon. 

“Yes, S-,” 

“Now, George.” Arthur cut the man off, and the fellow hurried away again. 

Merlin moved closer, stroking Aithusa’s ears.  

“You’re okay, girl,” he said gently, “you’re going to be just fine.” 

He kissed the top of her head, then looked up at Arthur, daring him to say something. But he was met by that same warm smile. 

“You can tell a lot about a man from how he treats his animals,” Arthur said. 

Merlin returned the smile, a little self-consciously, and looked around, continuing to stroke Aithusa. There was a sense of peace in here, the shuffling of horses providing a soothing background noise. 

Arthur had relaxed too, Merlin noticed. His shoulders had dropped and the frown that Merlin had never seen him without had disappeared. Merlin didn’t know the man, but he got a strong sense that this was where he felt most at home: where he belonged. 

Before he could say anything – and maybe make even more of a fool of himself – George reappeared. There was a second, much taller, man with him, with an unruly mop of curls and warm eyes. 

He looked around the stables, as if checking for an issue, before frowning at Arthur. 

“Stepped on glass,” Arthur said, nodding to the bundle in his arms. 

The man moved forward, but Merlin did the same, not wanting Aithusa to be overwhelmed by strangers. 

“Leon’s a vet,” Arthur explained. “Used to working with horses, true, but has a lot of experience with dogs.” 

Merlin bit his lip but nodded, giving Leon space to examine Aithusa. 

“Give her back,” Leon told Arthur. “She’ll feel safer in her dad’s arms.” 

Those words, more than anything, won him Merlin’s trust. He took his dog from Arthur, easing her trembling with a few soft words. 

It was over in moments. Leon removed the shard of glass and smoothed over an interestingly smelling ointment before dressing it. 

“Leave it covered for a few days, and she’ll be okay. Come back, or-,” he added quickly, “take her to your vet if you’re worried but there shouldn’t be any problems if you keep it clean.” 

“Thank you,” Merlin began. Leon dipped his head and walked off while Merlin was still trying to form a sentence about how much he owed. 

“Forget it,” Arthur said. “Leon is contracted to treat any animal in the stables. Never said it had to be a long-term resident.” 

“Thank you,” Merlin repeated. “Actually, talking of these stables... Where exactly am I?” 

He hadn’t been paying enough attention on the walk here. 

An inscrutable expression flickered across Arthur’s face. 

“Pendragon Manor,” he admitted, carefully, as if the words were said under duress. 

Merlin’s eyebrows rose. He knew the richest family around lived nearby. He was friends with the errant daughter, after all. But Morgana never invited friends here, instead living in a flat in town. They all understood it was because she hated her father and wanted nothing to do with him. They usually pretended – on her request – that she wasn’t a Pendragon. 

Merlin had never dreamt that he’d one day be standing here – even if it was just the stables. 

Then his brain caught up with the facts he’d been given so far. 

“Wait,” he said, slowly. He stared at Arthur, who looked away. “She has a brother.” 

Arthur looked blankly back at him. 

“Who has a what now?” 

“Morgana.” 

Arthur scowled. It wasn’t one of dislike, though. Merlin knew that as much as Morgana hated her father, she adored her half-brother. Arthur’s conflicted expression implied that might be mutual. 

“Of course,” Arthur muttered, his tone bitter. 

“What does that mean?” Merlin demanded. 

Arthur gave him a scathing look. 

“You know my sister, and you just happen to do the same route as me?” 

“Huh?” Merlin thought he might have missed a turning in this conversation somewhere. 

“She’s been trying to set me up for months!” Arthur complained. “She knows you’re my-,” his jaw worked furiously for a moment, before he bit out, “type. That’s why you’re there, isn’t it? Every morning with your cheerful ‘hello’s’.” 

Merlin was so stunned that all he could do was blink for a few seconds. Then he found his voice again. 

“Ever heard of being polite?” He shot back. Aithusa perked up her ears at the heat in his voice. “And, Your Highness, not everything is about you.” 

Arthur scoffed and turned away. 

“You might be good-looking,” Merlin continued, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to shut up. “But you’re far too much of a prat for my liking. I didn’t know who you were! And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t have spoken to you.” 

He didn’t think about his words. Instead, he straightened, careful not to jostle the dog in his arms. 

“Send me the bill,” he said coldly. He would not be indebted to Arthur. Turning, he took a few steps towards the door before Arthur spoke again. This time, his tone was softer, less certain, and definitely less scathing. 

“What do you mean: you wouldn’t have spoken to me? What’s Morgana said about me?” 

Despite himself, Merlin glanced over his shoulder. He wondered if the cool expression on Arthur’s face ever fooled anyone: there was clear pain in his eyes. Merlin relented. He couldn’t walk out on someone who looked more like a wounded puppy than the dog in his arms. 

“You know,” he began, uncertainly, waving his free hand in a vague gesture. 

“I don’t.” 

Merlin took a breath. “She always says that walking his dog is the one time her brother –well, you, I suppose – can switch off from the weight of expectations and trying to prove himself. It’s the one time he could just breathe. If I’d known who you are, I’d have never interrupted that.” 

There had been enough moments in his own life for him to properly understand how important times of peace were when they came. 

Arthur just started at him, without speaking. Merlin eventually shifted from foot to foot, awkward. 

“They say prolonged eye contact means you either want to kill or fu-,” 

“Shut up.” 

But, unless Merlin was mistaken, Arthur’s tone was even softer than before. His expression was still unreadable, but there was something warm in it. 

“I’m Arthur Pendragon,” he finally said. 

Merlin stared at him. “I know. Well, I didn’t know the second part. Do you really think I would have called you a stable boy if I’d known that?” 

“With you, Merlin, who knows?” 

“You don’t even know me!” 

“Like I said, you talk to yourself,” Arthur said with a grin.  

It was a look, Merlin realised, that he wouldn’t mind seeing more of. 

Then he realised what Arthur had just said and felt a blush rising. 

“When you say I talk to myself-,” he began. 

“Greek god, eh?” 

Merlin groaned, burying his face in Aithusa’s fur. 

“I’m Arthur Pendragon.” 

“You’re mad is what you are. Why do you keep telling me that?” 

“I’m trying to start again!” Arthur shook his head. “Where you know exactly who I am, and I don’t accuse you of stalking me.” 

“Are you apologising?” Merlin said, incredulous. 

“Are you going to roll with this or not?” 

Merlin chuckled. He shifted Aithusa until he could stretch out a hand. 

“I’m Merlin. This is Aithusa. No one meets me without meeting her.” 

Arthus flashed him a grin again, shook his head, and fondled Aithusa’s ears. His own dog chose that moment to come trotting over, leaning lovingly against Arthur’s side. 

“Kili,” he said. “Or Kilgarrah, if you want his full name. Don’t ask: Morgs chose it.” 

Merlin grinned. It was the sort of mouthful of a name his friend would have come up with. 

“Given that you’ve apparently heard from my own mouth that I want to get to know the stranger on my walks, would you like to go for dinner with me?” 

It wasn’t the sort of thing Merlin usually said to a stranger he’d just met. It took more courage than he expected.  

When Arthur responded with a ‘no’, Merlin felt himself flush and go ice-cold with humiliation all at the same time. 

He’d been so sure that was why Arthur had gone down this whole ‘fresh start’ route. But the look on Arthur’s face stopped him from saying anything. 

“Would you like to go on a dog walk with me instead?” Arthur asked. 

Knowing how much Arthur treasured that time alone, his one chance of peace from his stressful life, meant that Merlin didn’t underestimate what he’d just been asked. If Arthur was prepared to offer that, there was only one answer that Merlin could give. 

“Yes,” he said. 

[loopstagirl]

I love this so much!! I’ve read it quite a few times and just leaves me with a massive smile on my face!

The Once and Future King c2: Kilgarrah

@merlinbingo (card M5085) With thanks to @loopstagirl for all her encouragement and for getting me interested in this fandom.

Prompt: Kilgarrah's Cave (Y3)

Chapter 1 | AO3

~

It was the end of a busy day.

After finishing the clearing up Merlin had one more task to do, one that he looked forward to at the end of every day.

The Once and Future King was styled like the hall in Camelot, that much was true, but the building was also one of the oldest buildings in Westminster. The building was, like many of its age, made of limestone and brick and of three stories: a basement, the ground floor and the first floor.

Merlin shared the first floor with three offices – space in Westminster was at a premium, but he didn’t mind the small suite of rooms he called home – while the ground floor was two-thirds the café and one-third prep area and the basement…the basement was where the magic happened.

And now the café had closed it was time to make that magic.

The spiral staircase gave him fond memories of Camelot, and he trailed his hand gently along the wall as he descended. 

There was a bank of ovens along one side. At right angles was a work surface with shelves above and cupboards underneath. And on the third side…

There was a rumbling sound as Merlin’s steps began to echo around the room.

‘You are late, young Emrys.’

‘It was a good day, Kilgarrah.’

The great dragon snorted as Merlin stood before him, eliciting a chuckle from Merlin as he donned his apron and rolled up his sleeves. He washed his hands and began getting bowls and utensils out along with ingredients. He had bread and cakes to make.

‘How was your day?’

‘London’s underground system is fascinating. Long and old. And much deeper than people realise.’

‘Good hunting?’

‘I had good hunting.’

‘Good.’

Kilgarrah watched Merlin work. Kneading the bread, putting it aside to proof, making the cakes. He sighed a little. Despite Merlin’s obvious enjoyment of his work the man was not  the same since Camelot and Arthur…but today there was a positivity about him today that he’d not seen since their paths had crossed a little over a century ago.

He hoped that it was what he thought it was.

‘Emrys?’

‘Yes, Kilgarrath?’

‘You’re happy today.’

‘Yes.’

‘More happy than usual.’

‘You think so?’

The dragon snorted. Merlin turned to him. He was covered in flour up to his elbows, there was some in his hair and a smidge of icing in his eyebrow. The snort turned into a laugh.

‘Is he back?’

‘Yes. He’s here. Now…do you want to light the fires or not?’

That goofy grin was back on Merlin’s face and in return Kilgarrah indulged in a full belly laugh before releasing his fire to light the wood under the stoves.

They were almost all back together again.

As it should be.

Come what may.

[loopstagirl]

In commemoration of that time, recently, when I delivered a conference keynote in a ridiculous o'clock timezone, after having been up and neck deep in other energy draining university commitments for three days straight on four hours of sleep at best, here's a little thing. I couldn't remember what I was talking about the minute the presentation ended. Scott Tracy is a public speaker extraordinaire on bingo sleep and adrenaline overdose. His brothers are worried and have to think on their feet. Special thanks to @astranite for nudging my muse in this direction.

AUTOPILOT

The trick was to get him off the stage. Scott Tracy, the Tracy Industries CEO, giving an opening keynote at the New Frontiers Expo had been scheduled a year in advance (involving the program committee begging on hands and knees for a year prior, Scott's annual commitments shuffling, some major security concessions, up to and including Kayo's team practically taking over the venue security altogether, as well as meeting a hard line of excluding any tech associated with Langstrom Fischler from the exhibits or conference talks).

Nobody could predict a mine collapse and Scott Tracy, the Commander of IR and Thunderbird One, being involved on site for the past thirty six hours (a good portion of that time spent underground without sleep).

The family medics' quorum, in full agreement with the family extended quorum, voted for canceling his public appearance and putting him on mandated rest. For a week. But Scott Tracy gave his word. So Scott Tracy gave his talk.

As keynotes go it was a huge success. Scott was passionate, funny and inspired, engaging the audience with dimples, moving personal touches and heartfelt convictions. The listeners were just about ready to "boldly go" wherever Scott would lead the way to a better, technologically enhanced and kinder tomorrow.

They divided forces in case the predictable worse actually came to pass. Virgil was behind the podium with a med kit and med scanner at hand. Gordon unironically got a tranq gun, which earned him a side-eye, but knowing Scott it might as well come handy.

John was in the audience, vigilant and listening to the keynote (and rather enjoying biggest brother public speaking prowess - seriously, how did Scott do it, half-dead on his feet?), ready to step up and take over if need be. That wouldn't be what the hundreds of Expo attendees payed and donated to R&D funds for, but they'd be getting A Dr. Tracy, at least, if The Mr. Tracy collapsed mid-sentence.

That was just the problem at the moment. Scott didn't. He concluded the speech, got a standing ovation, and was now just sort of hanging out on stage, swaying slightly. It was obvious he was running on dregs of fumes of an adrenaline high, refusing to crash on sheer willpower. It was also obvious Scott was completely unfocused and unaware where he was and what he'd been doing the minutes prior. The brilliant blue eyes were getting telltale glassy.

John had a FRANTIC Virgil booming in his earpiece. The public spotlight made the logistics of what needed to happen next tricky: they couldn't just drag him off the podium in a firefighter hold or tranq him - and spoil the profound impression of the speech; they also couldn't wait much longer till Scott fainted in front of everyone (and possibly injured himself by the fall). John was half on his way up to try and steer Scott bodily off the stage. Gordon would have been a better man for the job - dressing the thing up with a quip and some theatrics, but the Fish was still in uniform. IR on site, crashing the keynote, might have set off unwelcome panic, dangerous in a crowded space.

In the end, it was still Gordon's out-of-the-box thinking that saved the situation. They could all hear a boy's voice through their earpieces - Alan went for the highest littlest-brother-in-distress pitch he could master:

"Scotty, could you come here? I'm right behind you! Scotty, please!"

Scott could hear it too. A less exhausted brain would have remembered Allie was on the island still. They agreed Scott would take him the next day on a tour around the Expo and to several talks the kid wanted to attend.

But Scott's bandwidth capacity at the moment was reduced to the most rudimentary parent-brain instincts. So he started slightly, turned on his heel and marched backstage. It took a bit of flailing to placate a wild-eyed Scott that a) Allie wasn't in danger; b) Allie wasn't there immediately available for inspection and protecting from danger.

It came as close as Gordon clicking the safety off the tranq gun. But finally, the blue eyes stopped searching the perimeter behind Virgil's shoulder and rolled back. Scott slumped as a ragdoll in Virgil's hold.

John rushed to join the brothers the moment he heard Alan on comms. In between the three of them they settled the Commander on a hoverstrecher. Virgil insisted on a quick scan on the spot. Nothing more serious beyond bruises, exhaustion, stress and dehydration. Small mercies. Every single one of them had a private itemized inventory of possible injuries Scott might have "forgotten" to mention in order to be cleared for the keynote commitment.

Kayo's security team were clearing the path for them, off the Expo busy routes, to leave for Thunderbird Two discretely.

John lingered to brush the fringe off Scott's now noticeably pale forehead. His original intent was to go straight back to orbit after the biggest brother was sorted out. But now, there was no way Grandma or Virgil would let Scott out of the infirmary for the next forty eight hours at least. Nor would Virgil let biggest brother out of his sight for at least twice as long after. So it would fall to John to take Alan to the Expo and show the boy around.

John didn't favor crowded bustling places on a good day, but it was crucial not to disappoint or worry the kid. Scotty unconscious, sedated and grounded would have him anxious enough. It was also a great bonding opportunity with the baby-brother and a way to lift a bit of weight off Scott's shoulders. John knew biggest brother enough to foresee he'd beat himself up for succumbing to weakness and letting Alan down. John couldn't have that. So he landed a hand for support on Gordon's shoulder and all together they started the way home.

[loopstagirl]

i have decided that to simplify my life and make everyone else's worse i am going to combine american and british spellings. for example:

•centere

•programmme

•graey

•apflatment

[loopstagirl]

Shot in the Dark, Ch 27

The comms were open, everything the boys were saying was being broadcast straight back to Base. But Jeff listened to their argument over who was taking Virgil, who was fit to fly which craft and so on, in silence. He had heard everything from the moment he had first contacted John. Whether the elder of his two blonds wanted those on the island to be able to keep their eyes and ears on what was happening out there, or whether he had simply forgotten to cut the connection, Jeff wasn't sure. Nor did he find he particularly cared - his mind seemed to have gone blank.

He had heard Scott and Gordon fighting, although the sound was distant, muted, as if they were a distance away from their brother. He had heard John battling to save Virgil, to bring him back from the edge of death. He would never tell his son that he had heard everything there. The way John had begged Virgil to come back, the way he had truly thought his brother was dead... Grandma had been escorted from the room at that point by a pale Brains, but Jeff had forced himself to carry on listening. He owed it to Virgil. He had been the one to send him out there. If these were indeed going to be his son's final moments, then Jeff wanted to be there in the only way he could given the circumstances.

Read the rest ->

[loopstagirl]

AUGUSTOFWHUMP ’25

A whump event set in August, run by @starryybrained!

Write-up of prompts & rules under the cut!

AUGUSTOFWHUMP PROMPTS:

Day 1: brainwashing / heavy / overheating

Day 2: sold off / bleeding heart / bargaining

Day 3: greed / on display / black and blue

Day 4: blurred vision / hallucinogen / haunted

Day 5: shadow / rules / ransom

Day 6: coughing fit / bone saw / seeing red

Day 7: flashback / faint / noxious

Day 8: defiance / distrust / numb

Day 9: simple / disgust / gutting

Day 10: overthinking / meat / memory loss

Day 11: nausea / squeeze / vertigo

Day 12: long day / migraine / mind control

Day 13: countdown / marked / shame

Day 14: lacerations / limping / intubation

Day 15: religious trauma / dissociation / helpless

Day 16: body swap / disorientation / dissection

Day 17: panting / panic / pet names

Day 18: zip ties / taut / torn muscle

Day 19: silenced / stalking / regret

Day 20: car crash / burns / bloody nose

Day 21: ooze / withdrawal / open wound

Day 22: pistol / body slammed / blinded

Day 23: weep / intimacy / immobile

Day 24: sacrifice / unresponsive / recovery

Day 25: force fed / struggle / found

Day 26: unworthy / endless / execution

Day 27: filmed / lies / left behind

Day 28: long gone / gashes / can’t breathe

Day 29: slaughter / undone / love

Day 30: coward / forget / death wish

Day 31: free day (or, “fuck it we ball” day)

ALT PROMPTS:

Afterlife

Self-destructive habits

Food poisoning

Hatred

Treated as an object

Broken bone

Mindfuck

Amputation

Used as bait

Relapse

Apocalypse

GUIDELINES:

Prompts should ideally be responded to in the form of whump

Creators can make any type of media they want (Yes, this includes any kind of media, no matter how niche. As long as it’s creative, it’s allowed)

You can do as few or as many prompts as you like

You can complete these prompts in tandem with any other event or other prompts (such as in combination with Bad Things Happen Bingo, AU-gust, etc.)

DO NOT use ai. I can’t be entirely sure what is or isn’t, but I trust you to at least put some type of effort in your creations. These events are no fun otherwise!

Tag & trigger warn your content accordingly

Yes, NSFW is allowed (and this year you CAN tag me in it! Aka I’m eighteen now baybeee)

Tag your works as #augustofwhump and/or #augustofwhump2025. (No spaces please! From now on I’ll only be reblogging what I find in these specific tags for my convenience.) In addition to that, you can also tag this account — @augustofwhump. I’ll try to reblog whatever I can!

Extra info and clarifications here

AO3 collection coming to an AO3 near you in the summer of 2025! (Check og post for link update)

[loopstagirl]

Oscar being s*** scared of Scott… hahahaha I love that so much. I think Scotty would be pleased to have made a lasting impression if he wasn’t otherwise occupied.

Déjà Vu c9: Reactions

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | AO3

~

‘Mr Oliver Swinger?’ ‘Yes?’ ‘You are under arrest for the kidnapping of Scott Tracy. Mantel – read him his rights.’

Scott wasn’t alone for long.

The man came back shortly, carrying the table and the laptop again. He was chuckling to himself and once he’d set everything up he turned to Scott.

‘Hoping that your Daddy had come to rescue you? Well, sorry to burst your bubble Scotty-boy but that was just a glass falling off the table.’

He turned to log on to the laptop, and the chuckling turned into whistling. He had a good feeling about this video.

This would be the one. Just this one.

Not like last time, video after video after video. This time there would be just the two – the first one…and the last one.

‘Let’s call Daddy, Scott, and hope that he’s ready to make the deal.’

Scott just sat there and stared at the man. He was frightened – not for himself, but for what this was doing to Virgil, to their Dad. It had taken Virgil months to recover from that holiday, and even his Dad had had nightmares. They thought Scott didn’t know, but he had his own demons from that time that kept him up.

His body ached but not as much as his heart did as the laptop flared into life. But Scott’s heart leapt into his mouth as the call was answered by the last person he expected.

‘Mr Tracy?’ ‘I’m sorry, my son isn’t here.’ ‘Mrs Tracy! How lovely to make your acquaintance’ ‘I wish I could say the same young man. Where is my grandson?’ ‘What’s the rush? We could talk until your son gets back.’ ‘Much as I would like that I have no idea when he will be back.’ ‘Well that’s not very nice. I thought he’d remember the timing of this call.’ ‘Young man, let me speak to my grandson.’ ‘Well…I don’t think I will. No. I suggest that you call your son and get him to come over as fast as he can. I shall call back in one hour precisely old woman, or Scotty will be…’

He didn’t finish the sentence but cut the call before turning back to Scott.

Scott didn’t need to see the face under the mask to know that the man was furious. He strode over and squatted down in front of him.

‘You better pray that your Grandma will do the right thing and get your Daddy there pronto, because if Jeff Tracy is not online in 60 minutes…’

He kicked Scott’s leg hard and left, leaving Scott both angry, upset and, not that he’d admit it to anyone else, a little bit frightened.

…

Jeff watched as Oscar Swinger’s face went through a huge range of emotions while the man behind him cuffed him and read him his rights. He saw the moment Oscar realised who was before him.

‘Wait – Tracy? You said Tracy?’

Oscar’s eyes roamed over them before settling on Virgil. He blanched slightly at the sight before his eyes darted around the room again, searching. His nostrils flared as he tried to tightly control his panic.

‘Vir-Virgil? What’s going on?’ ‘Oscar.’ ‘I see you brought your brothers and your Dad. Where’s your oldest brother? Where’s Scott?’ ‘That’s what we want to know.’ ‘You think I have him?’

Everyone in the room paused. There was genuine surprise in his voice.

‘Virgil – you can’t be serious? I’ve been s***-scared of Scott from that day on the boating lake.’

Virgil paused as the truth of that statement hit home.

‘Dad – Oscar isn’t lying about that. He was really scared.’ ‘But you were children back then. You’re not now.’ ‘Sir – I can assure you I haven’t thought about you at all since that time. Eventually anyway, after the…the..’ ‘The therapy. I know, Oscar. Me too.’ ‘How did you come here?’

All eyes turned to John, but he was already typing furiously and muttering away to himself.

‘John?’ ‘Need more computing power.’ ‘John?’ ‘Sorry Mr Flinn, Oscar, I – I think that there was a false trail leading us here to Oscar but I need more computing power to crack the code. There’s a hidden command that I missed first time.’ ‘Harry, are we done here? Only…back at TI we can tap into the extra power he…excuse me.’

Jeff’s phone ringing cut him short.

‘Ma?’ ‘Get back here Jeff! He’s been in touch and you’ve got less than 60 minutes.’ ‘Harry?’ ‘Let’s go. Lights and sirens and Jeff…say a prayer that we’ll get there in time. This is exactly the wrong time to be rushing through New York traffic.’

They rushed through the door leaving a handcuffed and slightly bemused Oscar until Mantel came back and pulled him through after them.

Whatever was going on was going to involve Oscar whether he wanted it to or not.

[loopstagirl]

Oh my god oh my god oh my god. They are all back together. I cannot say enough how much I adore this!!

Déjà Vu c10: All Together at Last

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | AO3

~

They rushed through the door leaving a handcuffed and slightly bemused Oscar until Mantel came back and pulled him through after them.

Whatever was going on was going to involve Oscar whether he wanted it to or not.

Of course, New York traffic was not their friend, and they quickly became ensnarled, lights and sirens notwithstanding. Never the most patient of men, Jeff found himself drumming his fingers on the dashboard, ignoring the exasperated sigh from Flinn in the driver’s seat. 

Cursing at the timing of everything, Jeff leapt from the car and ran for Tracy Towers, not waiting to see if his boys, Flinn or Oscar followed him. 

He couldn’t miss this call!

The sudden sprint wasn’t doing Jeff any favours, but he skidded into the reception and jumped into the penthouse elevator with three minutes to get upstairs. Virgil’s hand just managed to stop the doors and everyone else piled in, and for once Jeff said a prayer of thanks for his forethought in making this elevator an express.

There was no talk as the car seemed to take an agonisingly long time climbing the Tower, only some grumbling from Swinger about not seeing why he was here. The man did, however, have the good grace to thank Flinn after he requested the cuffs be removed. 

They didn’t go to the big conference room where the police had set up their equipment, instead they headed to Jeff’s private office suite as it was closer. His Ma was waiting at the door, and as they approached the laptop chimed for the incoming call. She quickly kissed Jeff on the cheek but she held onto Virgil’s arm as they all made their way to the conference table, everyone taking seats either side of Jeff and out of sight of the laptop. 

John was the only one who dithered, torn about being present or being in the ‘tech room’ so that he could trace the call better, but the hesitation was only momentary. He took his seat with a smile – his Grandma had brought his laptop up already. He had it open and running before the fourth ring.

Jeff waited until everyone was seated - an agonising five rings - before answering. 

‘Finally! I was beginning to think you had abandoned your son again!’

The distorted electric voice made Virgil pale, and he glanced at Oscar. All colour had drained from his face too, and Virgil grimaced. But then his Dad was speaking and all attention was on the laptop and Jeff, whose expression was granite. 

‘Let me see my son.’

‘All in good time, Jeff. All in good time.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Well that’s hardly the kind of discussion I expected from a man of your business acumen! Oh well, to business then. I know you son found that hidden trail. And I assume, since time was tight, that our excellent Chief Flinn has brought our final player here! Please, don’t be shy, Oscar! Step out where I can see you. You too, Virgil.’

There was a pause. Jeff looked beyond the screen to see Virgil moving but Oscar was frozen in his seat. Seeing where his Dad was looked made Virgil turn, and with a sigh he moved over to Oscar and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

‘Oscar, please. For Scott.’

But Oscar’s throat closed up, he couldn’t speak or raise his eyes from the table. Virgil’s face softened as he recognised the signs of a panic attack. He moved his hand off Oscar’s shoulder to his back, rubbing circles as he murmured. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath that ended in a sob.

‘I’m waiting!’

The electronic voice still sent shivers down Virgil’s spine, and he felt the same happen to Oscar. It took some effort for the man to pull himself together and Virgil kept his hand on his back as Oscar stood, offered him a watery smile and the two made their way to stand behind Jeff.

‘Ah finally! All together at last.’