#Chase (oc)

[jaeyleo]

LOCKS OR KEYS: PART 11

YOU CHOSE: SINK INTO PINK- LET IT RING.

Pink feels more comfortable being himself. By following your objective, your character has a better gauge of his emotions. In turn, Chase is slipping away.

OBJECTIVE: BE GOOD FOR PSEUDO.

taglist: @skid-row-seymour @the9645archives @welcome-to-the-whumpfest let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

Masterlist.

cws: suicidal ideation, self harm in the form of hair pulling, scratching, and hitting, hypnotized whumpee, brainwashed whumpee, captivity whump sort of??, scars, blood, unreliable narrator, non- human whumper, one non- human caretaker, major distress in whumpee, hallucinations, sedation, let me know if i should add more!

my apologies if there are errors. i was too excited to get this part out and i had time today so i wrote it at work!

. . .

The phone buzzes, buzzes, buzzes on the counter, until it falls still on the surface.

Something in his chest dies a little once the screen goes black. He feels like he should’ve known her just by looking at her, and the fact that he let it go to voicemail just proves how far his mind has gone away from him. He drags his fingertips down the screen, tracing where her facial features once were. He wonders what her voice would’ve sounded like. What her hands would feel like in his hair, how his name might’ve fallen from her mouth like he was meant to be hers.

His thoughts begin to swim with wonder and ache, fingertips still on the phone in hopes it will begin to buzz again. He feels the phantom of it, buzzing, buzzing, buzzing…

It takes a few moments to register the buzzing isn’t coming from his fingers, but rather, his head. Deep, deep in his head, until his vision begins to blur at the edges and he is overwhelmed with dizziness. His back crashes into the counter, feeling the familiar presence of Pseudo’s hypnosis taking over his mind.

The puppet’s hands fly up to grip into his hair. His eyes shut tight and he breathes heavy and fast, waiting for the magic to subside. It’s instinct to fight it, to resist it just enough as he sinks into the floor, back against the kitchen cabinets. Desperate hands claw at his scalp as the waves of hypnosis consume him. He can feel it burrowing down his throat, pushing against his eye sockets, leaking out his fingernails. His nose begins to bleed from both nostrils from the sudden weight of it all, but he doesn't have the strength to notice it.

“Pseudo,” Pink desperately cries. “Too much, too much, my head hurts..!"

Pseudo feels so close. He feels so tangible, as if he were standing right beside the puppet, fingers carding through his hair. Pink takes a peek at the room to see if his friend is actually there, but is met with solitude.

“Stop fighting it,” comes Pseudo’s voice. It’s soothing, calm, milk and honey and sugar and hugs. The noise shakes his head around, as if flies are stuck in the space between his skull and his brain. “It’s a reward, pretty. Take a deep breath and let me help you…”

Pink sobs upon hearing his friend’s voice. It hurts, and he misses him, and it hurts because he misses him, and it hurts because it's too loud and too much and he can’t think. But he wants to hear Pseudo talk. If this is how it has to be right now to hear his most precious friend, then he'll take it.

“Come now. Settle down, baby.”

As much as he wants to keep disobeying to hear that wonderful voice, he must obey when a command is given. He smashes his forehead into the heels of his hands one, two, three times, and then breathes deep, just as he was told. He lets himself relax, lets Pseudo pour magic into his head until all his thoughts are mush. Until he is relaxing against the counter, until he can’t even lift his fingers. Until the only noise he can muster is a sigh.

“There you go,” Pseudo croons. “Good job, dolly. Keep this up and I’ll be back in no time.”

And just like that, his friend, his heaven, his honey and milk and sugar and hugs, is gone.

The hypnosis prevents him from feeling too sad about it. Pink is left limp on the ground, head lazily propped up against the cabinet that he leans on. The entire world is fuzzy and bright, and his limbs feel as if they weigh one thousand pounds each. But he doesn’t mind, because it was a gift from Pseudo. A reward for being a good puppet and staying away from things he doesn’t need anymore.

It’s not long before Marvin and Henrik are rushing into the room, desperately trying to coax him out of the spell he’s under. They speak to him and shake him and hold him, but it takes him a few minutes to actually understand what they’re trying to do.

“Follow my finger,” Henrik commands. His voice is stern, but full of worry. The puppet obeys, feeling joy upon the praise that’s soon to follow.

“He’s getting worse,” Marvin says, one hand on Pink’s forehead. The doll practically bleeds Pseudo’s magic. “Pink. Do you understand me?”

The puppet stares at his reflection in the glass of the oven. His pupils are blown to the point his irises are barely visible, and his smile, oh, he never thought he could smile so wide!

Something soft is pressed against his nose, something wet drags down his chin. The blood slowly disappears as his doctor friend tends to him like a newborn kitten.

“Chase.”

Pink looks at Henrik. His smile slowly turns to a frown. He doesn’t like that name.

“I need you to respond to us. Can you understand what we say?”

The puppet nods. “Yes, H- Henrik.”

Words bubble into his ears, then bubble right back out. The puppet responds to questions, but forgets what they were talking about a few seconds later. It’s just a series of little tests he has to pass anyway, so what does it matter?

“Do you feel better?” asks Marvin, taking his hand away from Pink’s forehead. His nose has suddenly stopped bleeding, but his shirt and neck are still covered in red.

“Y…yes.”

Henrik looks pleased. Another test passed.

“Good,” the doctor throws away the dirty tissues, and washes off his hands in the sink. “We should get you cleaned up now.. You need a shower, my friend.”

“And new clothes,” Marvin adds, smelling the strong copper lingering in the air.

“Really?” Pink feels more in his senses now, the world a bit less blurry. “That sounds so.. nice… so nice, so nice…”

His friends agree, and help him get ready to bathe.

. . .

Pink stares at the faucet, trying to remember the instructions on how to work it. Henrik just taught him, and he forgot. He keeps staring at the bath and looking behind him at the cracked door, where the doctor hovers behind the wall. Eventually, he tries his luck on how to turn it on, and sticks his hand in to check the temperature once the water sprays.

“Ah!”

Henrik peeks inside, worried eyes scanning for more blood. “Are you okay??”

Pink looks back at him, then back to the water. He holds his hand in it, face slowly twisting up.

“It's cold, Henrik.”

“Do you remember how to make it warmer?”

The puppet keeps holding his hand in the cold. It starts to freeze, freeze, freeze, turning his skin red and making his fingers stiffen.

“Chase?”

“Pink..” the puppet whispers. It comes out like a plea. Please don't be mad at me. Please don't use that name. “Pink, Pink, Pink..”

The doctor frowns.

He approaches his friend slowly, finally able to look at his face. A gentle hand comes to guide him away from the water.

Pink snaps out of his little trance, holding his now cold and wet hand to his chest. It hurts, but a part of him likes it. It makes him feel closer to Pseudo.

He finally looks up at the doctor. With his voice still soft, he asks, “Can you help me?”

“To make the water warm?”

“With a bath.”

“You want help.. with a bath..?”

Pink nods. “Pseudo always did it for me, and I, um. I don't remember how.. don't remember, don't remember..”

For a long time, Henrik just looks at him. Pink feels compelled to look away, wondering what's going on inside his old friend’s head. Did he say something wrong? Is he acting funny? Does he smell?

The worry is soon boiled out by the hypnosis left in his mind, and then, Pink doesn't remember what he was worried about.

He reaches his hand in the water.

“Ah…! That’s cold, Henrik..”

The doctor frowns. Why is he frowning? Did he say something wrong? Is he acting funny? Does he smell? Did he give a command that Pink didn't hear?

“What did you say?” Pink asks, holding his now cold and wet hand at his chest when Henrik guides it out.

“Nothing, my friend. You want help with a bath, yes?”

Pink nods, that sounds wonderful! Henrik has good ideas.

“Okay. Ah…” the doctor closes the bathroom door.

Step by step, the doctor helps the puppet get comfortable with the water temperature, lets the bath tub fill up, and helps him undress. Once uncovered, Henrik’s eyes scan every inch of his friend, looking at every cut, every whip, every burn, every dig and bite and tear and-

“Henrik?”

Pink stands covered only by a towel on his bottom half. His eyes are wide and concerned- is he in trouble?

“Why- why are you angry? What did I do?”

The doctor looks into Pink’s eyes, then down at the ground. A deep breath ventures into his lungs- in, and out- and the puppet mimics the noise, unsure what to do.

“You are okay,” says Henrik, pushing up his glasses as he returns his gaze to his friend. “I’m not angry with you.”

He gestures to the bath, forcing his expression to soften to ease the puppet’s fear. Pink watches his friend’s other hand close in and out of a fist, in and out of a fist. It trembles, then hides away behind his back.

“Let's get you cleaned up, yes?”

Pink nods, and discards the towel to step into the bath.

. . .

A few hours later, and Pink is dressed in clothes he happily didn't pick. This time, his pants are checkered black and white pajamas, with a white t- shirt with the outline of a red heart on the pocket. He paces the living room as dinner is cooked in the kitchen, minding his own and daydreaming that he's back in Denmark. Both Marvin and Henrik seem completely occupied, minus their little check- ins every 2- 5 minutes.

In his pacing, Pink begins to slide his socked feet on the hardwood floor. He feels like a little kid, and it cracks a smile out of him while he runs one way, slides another. Runs one way, slides another.

He gets to the bookshelf at one of his stops and picks up a black photo book. Part of him wants to put it back, the other begs to see the photos inside. The part of him that died when he let that phone call go to voicemail gets the better of him, and he sits down on the ground to look at the pictures.

He sees Chase, surrounded by strangers.

The girl on the phone is a common face. She smiles so wide, with blushing cheeks and hair that gets cut or dyed every few turns of the pages. At one point, he sees himself in Chase, with pink hair and a big smile, but no scars. The pretty girl eventually has pink tips dyed, and his heart soars when he sees it.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, tracing her cheek with his thumb.

He wipes his eyes.

When did he start crying?

Another page turn, and he sees a baby, held in his arms.

He feels like he's been shot in the chest.

Another turn, another, another, the baby grows up to be a little girl. She holds bugs and wears fairy wings, with a big, gap- toothed grin. Her hair is blond like the pretty girl’s, but not pink like his.

Pink wipes his eyes again. His stomach hurts. His chest hurts. It's getting hard to breathe.

Another turn, and he sees another baby. This time, it's a boy, but he doesn't grow as big. The last picture he sees is the pretty girl kissing one of Chase’s cheeks, the little girl kissing his other, and Chase kissing the baby’s head. The date at the bottom says it was taken about 7 months ago. Is that how long he's been gone?

He turns the page again, hands trembling and eyes blurred with tears. The rest of the album is blank. They left room for more memories.

More memories. More memories. Pink can't even remember the old ones.

The puppet stares at the picture of the family, feeling as though someone had just cut a hole in his chest. He touches each of their faces, shaking, shaking, shaking. A tear hits the back of his hand, and his breath picks up.

“Oh, dear,” says Marvin, slowly approaching. Henrik follows, a pitying frown plastered on his face.

“Wh- whhh- who-” Pink stutters, pointing at the picture. He chokes on a sob before he can speak again. “Who are they?”

Marvin kneels down to Pink’s level. He looks off at the bookcase, while the puppet keeps staring, crying at the picture.

“Who do you see?” asks the gardener.

“A- aa-” Pink wipes his eyes, digging his knuckles far too roughly into the tears. He drags his hands down his face- deep breath, deep breath.

“Ch- Chase, and a p- a pretty girl, a little girl, and- and a baby..”

Marvin nods. He reaches out a hand to feel the page, the book. A tear.

“...That's you-”

“No…”

Pink’s lip quivers. He looks up at Henrik, who looks like he's in mourning.

“Your girlfriend..”

“I don't- that's- no…”

Pink looks back at the photo.

Marvin tries to give him a moment to settle down, but it does no good.

“And… your children.”

“No… nooooo, no, nononono..”

Pink shakes his head almost violently. He feels like his heart has been ripped out, chewed up, and stomped on. He feels a grief so overwhelming, so horrible, his whole body tenses and trembles.

“No,” Pink slams the book closed. “No, no, no, that's not me, they're not mine!”

Henrik tries to step in. “Chase-”

“PINK!” the puppet shouts.

His hands are soon to meet his head, pulling his hair, hitting his skull, clawing at his eyes. He feels so much pain, so much ache, he just wants to die. He needs Pseudo to fix it. Pseudo can fix it, Pseudo can make it better, Pseudo can make it go away.

“Not me, not me, not me!!” the puppet sobs. “Not mine!! Make it stop! Pseudo! Pseudo, make it sto- hop!!”

Arms all around him. Warmth all around him. Marvin and Henrik restrain his arms and hold him close, hushing him, holding him, rocking him.

“Shh,” says Henrik. “It's okay, deep breaths, yes? Deep breaths.”

Pink holds onto them as best he can, melting into Henrik’s shoulder to sob. He pleads, and pleads, and pleads, “Make it stop, make it stop..”

The doctor pets his hair. “Hush, shhh, okay. It's okay. How about some medicine, yes? It will make you feel better…”

The puppet sobs again, nodding. He’ll take anything. He'll do anything. “Just m- make it stop..?”

When the puppet has settled enough to breathe, Henrik gets up to retrieve a little white pill and a drink of water.

“Here, my friend. Take this...”

The puppet eagerly does as he’s told. He craves for more commands, desperate to be the toy and not the forgotten father.

. . .

Within 30 minutes, Pink has calmed down. He hasn't spoken a word since the pictures, which seems to concern both Henrik and Marvin. But he doesn't have the energy to mind. Whatever medicine he took has pulled all the anxiety out of him and stuffed it in the photo book for tomorrow's problem. For now, he can stare into space and ignore the ache that threatens to consume him once it's worn off.

After he’s picked at his food, he feels more, and more, and more drowsy. It takes effort to climb the stairs to bed, but he's thankful to have Marvin to help him to the room he’s staying in. The gardener tucks him in, and leaves the bedroom door cracked open. A small, white, walkie- talkie looking thing is snuck into his room by Henrik, and Pink vaguely recognizes it as a baby monitor.

Oh, God. Baby. His baby.

The puppet covers his mouth to hold in his sob, but something snaps him out of his ache before he can properly feel it.

“Pink.”

The puppet looks around. No one is here.

“Pink. Over here.”

Pink sits up, heavy as bricks, and his eyes land on a photo stuck on the wall. Another picture of a stranger he doesn't recognize entirely, but hasn't forgotten entirely.

“There you are. You need to get out of here.”

Pink frowns. He doesn't have the drive to speak, so he just shakes his head.

“Yes. You do. Don't you want to see Pseudo? They're just making you sad here.”

The picture beside the first to speak raises their objection. The stranger in this photo looks more familiar, but much, much younger. A teenager.

“No!! You need to figure your shit out. Pseudo tricked you.”

Pink rubs his eyes, glancing at the baby monitor. Is this real? It has to be, right? Maybe Henrik just isn't hearing them talk because they're farther away.

The first picture spits anger in their words. “Pseudo saved him! Pink belongs in Denmark, safe and sound and taken care of. Not torn apart by these imposters.”

“Well Chase belongs here, in England.”

Pink covers his ears. The pictures pierce through his hands, worming their voices through the cracks between his digits.

“Go look for Pseudo. Tell him you're ready to go home. Tell him you're ready to be good.” 

“No! Stay here, look for Chase! Find out what he's been hiding from you!”

“Look for Pseudo!”

“Look for Chase!”

The puppet rocks himself, tugging at his ears as he weighs his options.

[nobitchs-world]

When y/n gets too annoying to the point you want to stop reading

[that-pjo-obsessed-one]

Baby Artemis: Hey dad?

Zeus: Yes, child?

Artemis: How long can can someone breathe in a washing machine while it's running?

Zeus, chuckling: Now, why would you want to know that, Artemis?

Artemis:

Zeus:

Zeus: WHERES APOLLO-

(credits go to the real owner)

[squinkoblinko]

Heavy commission I finally finished up!

[rene-spade]

miss louisiana i | c. leclerc, a. saint mleux | chase landry

poly! | fem! reader x obsessive! exes! charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux (+chase landry and f1 grid)

synopsis. your obsessive exes refuse to accept your new relationship with a man completely different from them. maybe they should move to louisiana? jk!. . . unless?

note. ok so reader is from louisiana and has cajun roots for context. chase landry is from swamp people 😭✌️ I loved that show when I was younger & I rewatched some recently and it reignited my crush on him sorry

WARNING(s); obsessive/possessive behavior, toxic/creepy exes (I make is as fluffy as I can tho trust), ooc Alex and Charles being a rich and out of touch, a spec of classism, stalking oops, (everyone Loves you)

miss.y/n📍belle river, la

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, jacoblandry, carlossainz55, and 1,006,349 others

miss.y/n back where I belong ☀️🌷🐊🐝🐍🌿🐠

view comments

mariene.y/l/n be safe in the water my baby 🤗

miss.y/n yes maman 🤞😊 you know I’m protected

user oop who’s protecting you miss ma’am

user omgggg how did Charles n Alex fumble so baddd 😩😩🙏 I’ve needed y/n’s cajun french baddie ass since DAY ONE 🗣️

charles_leclerc so beautiful mon ange 😍 but that water is dark and might be dangerous. ta maman a raison!

see translation | your mom is right

user stopp didn’t y/n break things off with them???

user2 currently losing it my fav throuple might be back 💪🗣️

carlossainz55 hope you’re doing well mi dulce ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux yeah no this isn’t happening

user carlos sweetie delete this comment while you still have hands <3

user SHE’S BACK IN LOUISIANA RAHH

user2 how did I not know she was from the middle of nowhere 😭 what is pierre part??

user3 how didn’t you know!!! her dad literally used to hunt alligator before he died and her mom remarried and moved back to France . Her dad was cajun

user this might be a reach but y’all think she knows anybody from swamp people? Love that show 🤣🤣

liked by miss.y/n

♤ ♤ ♤

♤ ♤ ♤

Alex’s leg bounced up and down nervously as her call went to voicemail for the 7th time in a row. She’d been calling your phone nonstop since hearing the news, anxious to know if it was true or not. It was always something that ate at her; her and Charles’ inability to relate to your childhood in Louisiana. They’d grown up among a higher class than you and in foreign countries. You would just giggle and wave off her concerns, insisting that even though they couldn’t understand your upbringing, that at least you could understand theirs.

“No answer.” She muttered, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. It was a habit she’d had as a child, one that you disapproved of and had trained out of her before you left them.

“She left us for a swamp man.” Charles pathetically finished Alex’s thought as they sat in his car, waiting to meet some other drivers and wags at the high-end restaurant Carlos chose.

“Don’t say it like that!” Alexandra turned her body towards the passenger window, “She didn’t leave us— not in that way! I told you she was homesick!”

Your father was a Cajun man who definitely took his culture to heart, doing a lot of hunting and fishing before he passed away suddenly when you were 12. Your mother was from France originally, and she remarried a rich Frenchman who’d ended up funding your modeling career after your success in pageantry. You moved straight to France at age 14 and found yourself in a completely different culture from how you grew up. You’d visited France before during summers with your mother, but it wasn’t home to you like Louisiana. You’d met Alexandra when the two of you were 19, and instantly bonded. Despite only really meeting briefly, it was love at first sight on Alex’s part and she supported you all the way to when you won Miss Universe after starting out Miss Louisiana.

When Charles had come along and had the same feelings that she did for you, it felt perfect, like everything had finally come together.

“With us is her home.” Charles replied, sucking his teeth.

“I can’t even—” Alex didn’t have to finish, the two had the same thought. They can’t even fathom the idea that you were with someone else.

x

Daniel was practically cackling in joy while Carlos at least tried to hide his amusement by covering his face. It was no secret that most of the f1 grid was praying for you to leave Charles/Alex so they could get a chance— but this wasn’t what they were expecting.

Bickering around the table ensued, only a few seconds before Alex was rolling her eyes with a groan and putting her face in her hands, “He doesn’t have any recent social media so I can’t even stalk him.”

“So we will just go there!”

“And what? Become swamp people?” Daniel was laughing so hard he was tearing up.

“Cha, that’s so ridiculous.” Alex mumbled.

“It is—!” Kika agreed suspiciously fast, “I just mean the split was recent, so maybe me and Pierre should visit her before you guys?” It’d only been a few months, but that had been enough to drive Charles and Alex a bit off the rails.

They’d only ever been apart from you for just over two days in the last year, up until you ghosted them. Well— it wasn’t technically ghosting when you left a note; a very brief letter in your familiar handwriting that told them you needed some space. They didn’t take it as a break up, although they did panic. Their numbers weren’t blocked, so they naturally took that as a good sign. This was probably because you wanted their attention since all their calls and messages were going through. The finality of it didn’t hit until it reached two weeks of no-contact from you and their photos were removed from your Instagram. The public noticed and so did the rest of the grid despite Alex and Charles’ now 3-month-long denial stage.

“le lieu s'appelle Pierre Part, yeah?” Pierre grinned and Charles sneered at him. (the place is called pierre part)

“They might have a point,” Daniel winced with a wide grin, “I think you’ll just look crazy if you show up. At least, one of us would just look like a friend who misses her, ya know?”

“None of you are visiting our girlfriend!” Alex frowned.

“Ex,” Carlos gently corrected into his fist with a cough before straightening up, “She jus’ is homesick maybe so give her some space and she will come back in no time.”

“I knew this would happen.” Alex slumped with her chin in her hand, “cet endroit est sa maison.” (that place is her home)

“You’ve never heard ‘if you love something, let it go’? If it’s meant to be, she’ll come back.” Daniel tried to reassure, but his face was almost a wince.

“We just wanted her close to us is all! We travel so much, we didn’t mean to take her away from her home—”

But Daniel gave them a look, knowing about their behavior with you. As in love with you as they are, Alex and Charles are intense about it. Endearing on one hand for awhile, but then the jealousy got worse and they were pretty delusional about their tendencies. He could understand it honestly— you were lovely. He imagined he’d be in the same state as Alex and Charles if you were his and you left him. Which is why he cut them so much slack, the rest of the table too.

“I don’t understand why she ran away like that!” Charles finished with a huff, running his fingers through his hair. He was starting to sweat. This felt like a cruel joke on your part— a mean way to get their attention.

“His ears are a little big.” Alex whispered, staring into her phone with a pout.

“et cela! regarde nos oreilles!” (and that! look at our ears!)

Pierre lost it at that; Charles pulling at his ears to make a point, “Maybe he’s just a nice guy, man!”

“We are nice!”

“Let me see.” Carlos walked around the table to see Alex’s phone.

She’d googled the name of your alleged new boyfriend— Chase Landry. He had starred on some Southern US reality show ‘Swamp People’; it mainly surrounded cajun alligator hunters in Louisiana. They had known you liked the show, but had never seen it themselves.

“Eh,” Carlos shrugged, “his ears aren’t that big. He is a little old for her though, no? 34?”

“Exactly! He is a pervert! I’m calling her again, actually.”

♤ ♤ ♤

♤ ♤ ♤

miss.y/n 📍pierre part, la

liked by jacoblandry, carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, danielricciardo, and 1,014,108 others

miss.y/n me and my dirty swamp man foreva 🤞💛🌷🦆

view comments

user STOPPP SHE SAID THAT’S MY MAN N IMMA STICK BY HIMMMM

user2 stfu 😭✋ the fact that this man most likely has no idea that this is going on

user3 his brother liking her posts and filling him in

miss.y/n jokes on y’all Jacob doesn’t know what’s going on either

bellahadid beautiful lily faery and her dirty swamp bf <3

miss.y/n <3 literally

user BELLA⁉️

arthur_leclerc beautiful view of the water, ma sœur!

see translation | my sister

user THEY SENT Y/NS FAVORITE LECLERC BROTHER IN TO PLAY DAMAGE CONTROL

user2 not “my sister” 😭😭😭 leclercs let her go challenge

user y/n’s harem coming to her defense like the mighty morphin power rangers 😭😂🤣

x

this is part 1 of perhaps 3. I plan on making part 2 much longer and more writing than social media like this one, just for some balanceee

taglist; @alliwantisadonut @splaterparty0-0 @charizznorizz

Ren

[tinyfantasminha]

This is literally how beanfest ended right

[spotsupstuff]

revisiting and updating the main OGs for the AU + some Iterator culture exploration

[opikiquu]

my life a movie (PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR)

[sparxyv]

how my gameplay felt

[vampbloodbunny2]

Annabeth: So what did the paper in your fortune cookie say?

Percy, eating the entire cookie: the what in my what

[rxseinbloom]

I think misspelling the tag for a story about a dyslexic demigod and then that tag trending is something that can be so personal

[jaeyleo]

LOCKS OR KEYS PART 10

YOU CHOSE: SEND PINK TO HENRIK’S HOUSE

NEW OBJECTIVE: BE GOOD FOR PSEUDO

Chase has been pushed to the back of the mind, you are now playing as Pink. His goals are to be as obedient as possible. What are yours?

Masterlist.

Tag list (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @skid-row-seymour @welcome-to-the-whumpfest @the9645archives

CWS: hypnotized whumpee, brainwashed whumpee, captivity whump, two caretakers (one being non human), mentions of a non human whumper, mentions of injuries and torture, scars, let me know if i should add more! also my apologies if there’s mistakes, its so late and i almost lost it to the tumblr void ;-;

. . .

Pink’s mind swims with hypnosis. Dizzy eyes blink open to stare at the ceiling, a groan suppressing the nausea in his stomach. Everything in his body aches and burns and weeps in agony, but he cant be bothered with the physical discomfort. All he can remember is Pseudo’s test for his loyalty, and wonder where he is now. When he gets to go home.

His eyes fall from the ceiling to the dresser in front of him. He’s in a bedroom, and he’s tucked into bed, but he isn’t sure who it belongs to. He keeps observing the room for more answers, turning his head to find a man sitting at the side of the bed.

He startles, breath stopping in his chest. He tries to sit up, but his injuries implore him to stay laying on his back.

“It’s alright,” the stranger coos. “You’re safe, Chase. You’re safe now.”

Pink frowns hearing his old name. Is he in trouble with the stranger, too?

He wants to correct the name, tell the stranger that he’s got it wrong. For a while he just stares, more occupied with feeling something familiar with the stranger. Something in his voice, or maybe its his face. He feels a pit in his chest, like he loves this stranger, or did love him. Tears blur his eyes and the stranger reassures him again that it’s alright.

Pink shakes his head. He wants to ask where Pseudo is, but the thought is drowned. He hears laughter in the back of his mind. Fondness and hugs and wrestling and this stranger teaching him how to play chess. He feels empty spaces in his head where memories used to be. The tears spill over his cheeks and he covers his face, feeling a deep, horrible ache inside his heart. He loved this stranger. He cherished this stranger. He missed this stranger. But why can’t he remember who he is?

The man beside him leans closer, holding his hand and trying to pull him out of his crying spell. Pink wants to open his eyes to look at him, but the thought of feeling that ache again makes him sick.

Who is he? Who is he?

“Chase,” comes the stranger’s voice, firm and guiding. “Look at me.”

A string is pulled. The puppet obeys the command, and his lip quivers as the pain stabs into his chest. He wants to look away, but he can’t.

“You’re safe. You are safe. Breathe.”

Pink obeys. He tries to breathe, tries to look, but it hurts.

“Who are you?” Pink whimpers. He shakes like a leaf, hands coming up to cover his face. He leaves a crack in his fingers for his eyes, as the stranger hasn’t told him he can look away yet.

The stranger frowns, deep and grieving.

“Henrik. I am your friend.”

Pink feels another wave of ache hit his chest. He cries into his hand, staring into Henrik’s piercing green eyes. He feels so much love and so much hurt in the same breath.

“Henrik?”

The doctor nods. Oh! Doctor! Henrik is a doctor, Pink remembers that.

“Im- I’m h- having trouble remembering who you are,” Pink starts, and Henrik nods. He understands. “But I know I love you.”

Henrik bows his head. Before he looks back up again, he wipes his eyes, and holds tight his old friend’s hand.

“I love you too, Chase,” he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He clears his throat to stop the shake in his voice from showing. “Can you tell me how you feel?”

“Scared,” Pink murmurs. He tries to sit up again, wincing as his friend gently pushes him back to the bed. He pulls the puppet’s hands from his face and wipes away his tears.

“Don’t be,” he replies, holding Pink’s hand awfully tight. The puppet doesn’t mind the pressure of it. “You don’t have to be afraid here. Not anymore.”

The puppet shakes his head. His voice breaks when he speaks.

“I need Pseudo.”

The two friends frown, but for different reasons. There is a heavy grief that weighs down the air, seeping into the walls, bleeding out of their minds. Henrik stiffens in his discomfort with the statement.

“…Do you remember who Marvin is?” the doctor tries to change the subject.

The puppet breathes, searching his brain for a face to tie to the name. It comes much easier than Henrik’s did, because he looks just like Pseudo.

“Ps… Pseudo’s brother?”

“Yes, yes. Very good.” Pink seems to calm down with the praise. “He is going to heal your injuries.”

The calm goes away again.

“No,” the puppet shakes his head. “No, I deserved it, he- he can’t..”

“Why would you deserve this?”

“Because I— I tried to leave him,” Pinks voice comes out weak and whining, threatening another spill of tears. “I was bad, bad, bad.”

“No, Chase. Especially not for escaping.”

“No,” Pink says, to everything Henrik just told him. It’s all wrong. Chase is wrong, thats not his name. Escape is wrong, that implies Pseudo was bad. His breath picks up in his chest and his heart thumps louder behind his ribs.

“You don’t understand, you don’t understand-“

The doctor shakes his head. “Chase-“

“Pink!” The puppet smacks his own mouth for yelling. That’s what Pseudo would’ve done. “My name is Pink..” he mumbles behind his hand.

Henrik just breathes. He’s overwhelmed his friend, overwhelmed himself. Chase isn’t the same man anymore.

“…. You want me to call you Pink?”

The puppet nods. It sounds like venom coming from Henrik, like each letter is another fang for the snake to bite with. Why does he hate it?

The doctor just squeezes his friend’s hand. “Okay.. lets focus on one thing at a time, yes? Okay?”

Pink nods, allowing the doctor to remove his hand from his mouth.

“Okay…. Even though you think you deserve them, you can’t keep these wounds.”

Pink opens his mouth to protest, but Henrik holds up a finger to silence him.

“Do you want to walk around?”

Pink nods.

“Do you want to eat? Get dressed?”

Pink nods, and nods again when he realizes he’s only wearing boxer shorts under the blanket. Henrik’s finger comes down to his side again.

“Then you will let Marvin heal you. Okay?”

Pink frowns. This doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t know what to say, so he stays silent.

Henrik takes it as agreement and tries to relax again. He checks his phone, types something in with his free hand, and sets it back in his pocket. A few moments later, a soft knock is heard at the bedroom door. The doctor gives his friend a reassuring pat on the hand and ventures to open it.

Pink feels many things seeing Marvin come inside.

First, the comfort of his familiar face. It is nearly identical to Pseudo’s, with the only differences being their scar placement, eye colors, and lengths of hair. While Pseudo’s is short and black with a white streak, Marvin’s grows long past his shoulders in deep black waves, stopping just before his navel. It’s a bit unkempt, but still shining and smelling of the flowers and dirt adorning his garden. As for their eyes, Pink has no trouble picturing the soft brown of his beloved caretaker. Marvin’s are glassy and pale, with irises and pupils that almost blend into his sclera. He was blinded a long time ago, with scars to show how.

After the comfort of recognition, Pink feels afraid. He doesn’t want his injuries to be taken away. He doesn’t deserve that. On top of that, Marvin feels like an old friend and a stranger at the same time, similar to Henrik. It’s confusing, overwhelming, and makes him miss Pseudo that much more.

Henrik closes the door behind him, and sighs a breath of… Pink can’t quite tell with the lack of expression on his face.

“Hi, Chase,” Marvin greets softly. His voice is soothing and low toned, in contrast to the bouncing and playful Pseudo’s. “It’s good to have you here again.”

Pink pulls the blanket up higher to conceal his bare skin and bandaged wounds.

“Pink,” he replies, pathetic. “My- my name is Pink…”

Marvin nods. He steps a bit closer, hearing the shift in blankets again. Much like Pseudo, he can hear the beats of human hearts. The filling of air in lungs, the bubbling and breakdown of nutrients in the stomach, creaking of joints and pull of muscles. What’s loudest, now, is the anxiety that radiates off the puppet like heat to a well kindled fire. Marvin takes a deep breath, and stops a few inches from the bed.

“Pink,” he repeats. Henrik’s brow furrows in response, but the puppet seems pleased with the idea of his request being respected. “Do you remember who we are?”

The puppet looks at Henrik, who has yet to move from his crossed arms, furrowed brow stance. Then to Marvin, who is gentle, and warm, and patient.

“A little bit,” he replies. “A little, little bit.”

Marvin nods again, sitting down in the chair Henrik once occupied. Pink feels a little more relaxed.

“I’m sure Henrik told you what I’m here to do…” he says. He tilts his head when Pink whines about it, and the puppet sees Pseudo in his mind’s eye. Part of him wants to make Marvin angry to see if he’d hurt him like Pseudo does.

“Please don’t,” Pink wraps his arms around himself. “I need them…”

“Dear.. I don’t think you’ll enjoy your time here with all of those..”

“It doesn’t matter what I- what I would enjoy. Th- they were a punishment, and— and, and I need to keep them.”

Pink glances at Henrik. He grips his sleeve so tight his knuckles show white. His pupils are pinpricks in his eyes. Why is he so upset? Did Pink do something wrong? He’s being a bad puppet again, isn’t he?

“You don’t,” Henrik seethes. “You need to heal. Let Marvin help you.”

A string pulled. The puppet frowns. If Pseudo isn’t here to guide him, he should follow the word of someone else, shouldn’t he? Pseudo wouldn’t want him to stop being a puppet just because he’s gone. This is a test, after all, right?

“…Okay,” Pink obeys, pushing the blanket off of himself. The cool air pulls the goosebumps out of his skin.

“Could you take a deep breath, Pink?”

The puppet obeys another command from Marvin, pretending it’s Pseudo giving it to him. Once he breathes in, he is overcome with warmth.

Warmth, warmth, warmth. The burning agony that once chewed away at every wound on his body is lifted, replaced with a gentle, soothing sensation, and then nothing at all.

He feels lashes on his back smooth over, a hole in his tibia piece itself back together. Bruises on his wrists and ankles return to normal color, a mouth that once was scabbed with needle marks returns to something that doesn’t ache when he speaks. He feels all his punishments wash away, with only the memories left to prove them. Pink breathes out, sitting up without groaning in pain. It feels wrong and good at the same time.

“Thank you,” he says, despite his inner conflict. Pseudo taught him to be polite.

“You’re welcome, dear..” Marvin smiles softly at him. He leans in slightly, speaking a bit lower. “Now, how does getting some clothes and food sound?”

Pink wraps his arms around himself to cover some of his scars. Henrik won’t stop staring at them, and he looks angry. Pink doesn’t want him to be angry. He nods in response. “It sounds nice.. nice..”

Henrik finally breaks his gaze from the puppets carved skin to pull out clothes from the dresser. A pair of black sweatpants and a pair of grey shorts.

“Which one, Chase?”

Pink frowns. Why is he in trouble? He thought he was being good.

“Which one do you want me to wear?” Pink tries.

“I want you to pick.”

The puppet starts scratching at a scar on his arm. Pseudo doesn’t want him to make decisions, yet here, Henrik does. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to follow Henrik’s rules or Pseudo’s, Marvin’s rules or just try to escape. What’s part of the test and what isn’t??? What happens if he makes the wrong decision, if he’s supposed to make one at all???

Pink’s eyes water and he shakes again, eyes darting between his choices. Marvin steps in when he hears whats going on inside the poor puppet’s chest.

“Wear these,” he stretches out an arm to grab the first thing he feels in his hand, which is the black sweatpants. “Don’t they feel soft?”

Pink nods, trying to calm himself down by feeling the fabric. He looks at Henrik for reassurance, who gestures for him to put them on.

He stares at his friend while he slowly, slowly slides a leg inside. This. Feels. Wrong. He’s not supposed to get dressed by himself.

But he was given a command, and he must follow it. That’s what a good puppet would do.

Henrik doesn’t give him shirt options once the pants are on. Pink wears a grey shirt with a logo on the pocket that reads:

C. Barrens

Math and Science Dept.

Pink sighs in relief. He is dressed and following commands, and Henrik doesn’t look so angry anymore. If he keeps up this good behavior, maybe Pseudo will be back to get him soon.

“Let’s go downstairs,” says Henrik, extending a hand which Pink gladly takes.

. . .

The house feels familiar.

Pink recognizes the hallways as he passes through them. The faces in the pictures are blurry in his mind, but the shape of them tugs at memories buried. He sees a picture with three children, one with green eyes and dark hair like Henrik’s, the other two blue eyed and freckle faced like himself. Before he can focus too deeply on who they are, he is tugged off down the stairs, left to wonder who those little smiles belong to. Part of him wants to ask, while another warns of a grief he isn’t ready to face yet. He pushes their faces out of his mind as they approach the kitchen, which pours light in through the screen door to the backyard.

Marvin follows close behind them, a hand on the puppet’s elbow to ensure he doesn’t walk the wrong path.

“Sit,” Henrik says gently, letting go of Pink’s hand to venture to the counter. When he turns back, Pink is sitting on the floor, on his knees, staring up at him like a puppy waiting for a treat.

“Ah-“ the doctor’s face twists from the nothing to frowning and furrowed brows again, almost a cringe. It’s like Henrik only has two modes of expression, nothing, or unhappy. “Here, sit up here, my friend.”

Henrik pulls out a chair for Pink to sit in, and the puppet plants himself there without a second thought. His cheeks burn in embarrassment for following a command wrong, and he instinctively pulls at his hair to both punish himself and soothe the humiliation. Marvin sits diagonal to him to chat while Henrik fixes up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of strawberry milk. Pink smiles when its set in front of him, thanking his friend.

“Go ahead,” says Henrik, after Pink just stares longingly at his meal. “It’s okay, Ch… it’s okay. You can eat.”

“H- how? By myself?”

The doctor just stares at the puppet. “…Yes,” he finally says. “You can eat by yourself.”

Pink nods, and continues staring at his sandwich. With cautious hands, he picks up the food, and takes a bite.

Henrik nods in approval and the puppet takes it as a win. He takes another bite, and relaxes as the taste fills his mouth. Blackberry jam, his favorite!

Marvin stands and turns to the doctor. “Come talk with me,” he says. Henrik nods, then turns to his friend.

“We will be in the other room if you need anything. Don’t be afraid to say something.”

Pink thanks them, and his friends leave the room. He is left to hear their muffled voices for a few minutes. It isn’t until he hears his “in- trouble” name that he begins to focus on what they’re saying.

“She wants to bring the kids over.”

“No, no… he isn’t ready for that, Henrik. I don’t want to overwhelm him..”

“I don’t either. And I wouldn’t know how to explain to them why their dad is so different..”

Is Pink dad? Is Pink a dad?

“Dad, dad, dad,” Pink whispers to himself. He wants to take a sip of strawberry milk, but he wasn’t given permission, so he just takes a break from eating until he can ask. “Dad, dad, dad…”

It feels sad and warm to be called dad. He thinks about the freckled faces he saw in the hallway, and his heart aches. Did they call him dad?

Their talking soon comes to an end as Pink’s focus was spent too long trying to remember things he can’t. Things he shouldn’t. His friends come back into the kitchen, where both of them sit at the table to keep their puppet company.

. . .

When nighttime comes, Pink doesn’t want to sleep.

“What if Pseudo comes to bring me home?” Pink says, curled up on the couch while a movie plays in the background. Henrik tried to get him to pick one out of two games to play first, which sent him into a panic attack, so they ended up putting the tv on instead. Pink stopped thinking about why he was crying once the screen came to life with characters he watches with Pseudo all too often.

“He will not come here,” Henrik replies sternly. He sees the hurt in his friend’s eyes and softens, trying to hide the stress he’s feeling. He must not have puppets like Pseudo does.

“I will not force you to rest. If you want to stay up, you can stay up, yes?”

Pink nods in agreement, pleased to have yet another request granted to him.

“Thank you, Henrik.”

“No, no. You made-“ the doctor bites his tongue, stopping himself from saying what he was intending. Pink wonders what it was, but it would be rude to speak in between his keeper’s thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” Henrik finally says. “Let’s watch your movie, yes?”

“Okay.”

As time passes on, the two men grow more and more tired. Henrik refuses to sleep when Pink isn’t, but he won’t explain why. Another movie turns on when the first ends, and then another, and by the time the fourth movie is on, Henrik is fast asleep on the couch. It isn’t long before Pink follows, and the next time he opens his eyes, daylight pours in the windows.

It’s delicate and cool, as though the sun is just barely beginning to rise. Pink looks around the room to find no Henrik, and no Pseudo. A pang of disappointment makes him frown.

The puppet sits up to stretch, pleased yet guilty that he feels no pain in doing so. While keeping the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, Pink looks around the living room, observing, observing, observing. He hears muffled voices speaking in another room, and despite not having permission, he stands up from the couch. Henrik never really did say “stay,” so technically, he can move freely for now.

He wanders closer to the noise, while staying far enough away as not to alert Marvin of his presence. He finds that standing at the kitchen counter gives him the best earshot of what’s being said.

“He’s very hypnotized..” says Marvin. It’s harder to hear him with how quiet he talks. “It won’t work unless we can coax Chase back out of his mind.”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

“He has to want to fight for himself, too, Henrik. Otherwise we can only know Pink, and Chase is forgotten.”

“You can’t bring him out with magic? Or— or healing?”

“No. There is no reversing what Pseudo did. He has to make the decisions on his own… then I can help him come back.”

Pink’s brow furrows. He feels a heat in his chest, a pit in his stomach. Are they trying to being Chase back? He can’t let that happen. He has to obey Pseudo. This is his test, and he cannot fail. He wants to go home.

As his two friends continue their discussion- which leaves a sour taste in Pink’s mouth- a phone begins to vibrate on the counter. Pink looks down at it, instinctively following the noise.

“Stacey B.”

A picture of a blonde woman, smiling and sweet and beautiful. Pink gets butterflies just looking at her, oh, she’s gorgeous. He smells peaches and citrus and a bakery in Liverpool. Oh, God, and then the ache comes.

He looks at her and her pretty eyes, pretty face, pretty hair, and he feels like he should know who she is. So why doesn’t he?

The phone keeps ringing. No one seems to notice but Pink.

[nobitchs-world]

My ancestors looking down at me as I talk about how much I love white men

[clacy2812]

Continuation from this comic, so far Nicolo hasn't crashed into anyone :] but they met their first aggressive human!

[flowerhound]

Okay I’ve been simmering on this today but like. We need more representations of fatness and weight gain as signs of healing. So so often in media weight loss is meant to be a sign of becoming healthier or happier and I’m ready to see more of the opposite!

Give me characters who hadn’t had secure access to food in the past having stable food and filling out from finally being able to eat when they’re hungry.

Give me characters who have always felt like they had to adhere to a standard for fear of judgment finally gaining weight as they become more comfortable with themselves and their bodies.

Give me couples getting fatter together because they know they’ll be loved and because life’s too short to worry about dieting and controlling intake all the time.

Give me characters who’ve struggled with disordered eating habits in the past who get progressively chunkier as they recover with the help of people who adore them.

Give me fatness as a sign of comfort. Of health. Of security and recovery and confidence. Give me fatness as a sign of happiness.

[zillychu]

when u play in the mud u don't get licked clean, you get sent to GAY MUDDY BABY JAIL BATHTIME to SOAK