#blondie whump

[modramrod]

“A Fistful Of Whump” I’m loosing my mind because I just come across the motherlode of rare stills and promotional shots from Fistful Of Dollars and will be posting them all this week!

[whumpookies]

OLTL - Ben/Blondie: Removing the Bullet (03-23-1999)

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1306

Anon asked:

Do you have any collars and dehumanization prompts?

I have a couple:

“Hello, pet.”

The whumper removes any instance of the whumpees names/nicknames. They are just ‘pet’ (or whatever else the owner wants to call them.) They’re not even called ‘blue eyes’ or ‘blondie’ etc.

The collar is one of those barbed ones, or a loop leash that tightens if the whumpee strays too far.

Maybe they’re kept at the whumpers side - forever forced to crawl by them/sit on their haunches.

It takes a long time for them to learn the behaviour… and it'll take even longer for them to unlearn it when they’re rescued.

The whumpee could eventually turn feral - taking on characteristics of a pet.

Maybe the whumper has a ‘pack’ of pets - I can imagine the new addition being unwelcome/being forced to fight for their food.

They’re fed in a bowl on the floor.

If they’re good they’re given treats (small biscuits, scraps of meat etc)

Over time, they feel anxious if they don’t have a collar around their neck. At first it’s claustrophobic, but then they feel too exposed without it.

[kabie-whump]

Oh! You're willing to take whump writing requests? 👀

If so... could you write a Whumpee and Caretaker getting into a bad argument, and Whumpee storms out, only to be kidnapped and not heard from ever since? And Caretaker feels SO GUILTY to the point they blamed themself for arguing with Whumpee over something so trivial? It's okay if not, but ever since reading your bandit story, I would love to see more stuff from you, especially if you're up to writinf my favorite tropes! :O

-- @whumperofworlds

Yeah absolutely I'll write that and I'm gonna make it Onthyes and Ventis :)

~~~

Onthyes hands Shayah Ventis's journal when she opens the door. "Can you give this to Ventis, please?" he asks. "He left it at my place."

Shayah takes the journal slowly, her brow furrowing. "He's not here, blondie. I thought he was with you."

"What?"

Ventis doesn't have a place of his own so he's constantly bouncing between Onthyes's and Shayah's respective homes on a whim. If he isn't with Onthyes he can always expect to find him at Shayah's.

So where is he?

"He left mine late last night. I thought he was coming here."

"You didn't go with him? You escort him everywhere."

Onthyes feels his palms start to sweat, his heart racing. He never lets Ventis go out alone, especially late at night. The genasi bitches at him about it all the time but Onthyes always insists, knowing that Ventis is a bright sparkly beautiful target for lowlifes of all kinds. Even now that he's finally gaining control over his magic Onthyes has never left him out on his own.

But last night, when Ventis had stormed out with a literal cloud thundering over his head, Onthyes hadn't followed. He'd said he wanted space, and for the first time Onthyes had given it to him.

Shit.

"We had an argument," Onthyes admits. "He didn't want me to go with him."

"That's never stopped you before."

"I know!"

Shayah's eyebrows climb higher on her face at Onthyes's raised voice. She steps inside, grabbing her cloak and her bag, and then joins Onthyes outside and locks the door behind herself.

"Come on," she says. "We're gonna find him. If we're lucky he's just shacked up with some handsome stranger and he'll be on one of our doorsteps soon."

That would not be lucky at all for Onthyes. The idea makes him feel sick. Even if Ventis doesn't offically belong to him the thought of him going out and finding someone else to sleep with feels so so wrong.

They comb through all of Ventis’s favorite places: the library, the tavern, the market by the harbor, all to no avail. They even wander by a dingy little nightspill den just in case the fight had been bad enough for him to relapse but luckily they don’t see him there either.

By the time night comes Onthyes is in a state of panic. He can’t decide which possibility is worse: that Ventis decided he never wants to see him again or that something happened to him.

Oh gods, what if something happened to him?

What if someone grabbed him off the street? What if his withdrawl-induced hallucinations returned and he wandered off, chasing shadows into the middle of nowhere?

(Click here to travel to an alternate timeline!)

A week goes by. Onthyes doesn’t rest. He becomes obsessed with searching for any sign of Ventis, but every passing day of finding nothing brings him closer to the verge of insanity. Shayah has to force him to eat and rest on multiple occasions.

One one such night, Onthyes dissolves into exhausted, guilty tears on Shayah's couch.

"It was such a small thing," he chokes out, hugging a throw pillow to his chest. "He'd met some new friends and he liked them but I thought they seemed like trouble and I was scared that he'd relapse if he wasn't careful with who he saw. You know how hard it was to get him sober the first time so I really didn't want any of us to have to go through that again but he took it as me not trusting his judgement-"

"To be fair, we shouldn't trust his judgement."

"But you know that's a cruel thing to say. Especially to him. Especially when he's just started being able to trust his own mind again."

Shayah sighs, tipping her head back and blowing out smoke from her pipe. "I know, blondie. I know."

Onthyes scrubs the tears from his eyes. Moping around isn't going to help him find Ventis, but Shayah has forbidden him from going out searching again tonight.

"It's all my fault," he whisperes. "I felt hurt cause he didn't appreciate that I really just want to keep him safe. But I should've followed him anyway."

"He'll turn up."

And he does turn up that same night in the form of an exhausted and bloodied body collapsing against Shayah's door in the dead of night, the sound rousing Onthyes from his fitful sleep on the couch.

~~~

Might continue this later :)

Ventisposting taglist: @scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump

[onedayillmakeanamebutnotrn]

pet whump, whumpees kept as dolls kinda, whumpees sold as pets mention, mention of scars and broken bones, collection of whumpees bc thats basically all this is about

anyways whumper but they collect whumpees as in omg this one is a rare breed * takes home to basement * could be a whole lineup of cages and each whumpee is kept in there like unopened doll boxes or its more pet based and whumper always has like atleast 3 wandering around where whumper currently is probably often comes to any place pets are sold if you got any likely looking for details like 'ooh a blondie with blue eyes ion have one of those yet * reaches *' also can include actual animal based or idk demons,,angels,,,vampires collection of every species/type and all of them are still hurt drastically but whumper would never leave lasting marks on outside skin broken bones r a win but scars r a big nono

[ohtobeleah]

The Chaos-Verse

Chronological Events Masterlist

Summary: During a special detachment that brings Lieutenants Bradshaw and Seresin back to North Island—they both come face to face with the women in their lives who alternately make them better versions of themselves. Lieutenant Chaos Kazanksy and Lieutenant Commander Seresin.

Warnings: (18+) Smut, violence, whump, angst. You name it—these two series have it. Rooster x reader pairing. Hangman x reader pairing.

Signatures: BB = Bradley Bradshaw/Chaos. JS = Jake Seresin/Hawk

Separate Masterlist

Chaos // Bradley Bradshaw: Being called back to TopGun should have been the number one thing on your mind. But Bradley Bradshaw sure made it hard to keep your priorities in check. He made it hard to do just about anything. Including but not limited to saying his life.

To have & To Hold // Jake Seresin: Jake Hangman Seresin had been called a lot of things. But a good husband? Wasn’t one of those things. Being called back to TopGun has him trying all over again to win over the love of his life. His ex not yet divorced wife. You. Lieutenant Commander Y/n Seresin.

Chronological Order

Disclaimer!! MOST of these updates run in tandem with one another so it’s not exactly one after the other more-so side by side.

Tap out & Tap me out (BB)

Emergency contacts (JS)

Blondie // Hangman spots a Blonde sitting by the bar. Only to find out it’s his ex wife. (JS)

Attention On Deck // Not only had you changed your hair, but you’d been promoted. Lieutenant Commander Seresin, at your service. (JS)

Toxic Tango // You thought for sure the biggest problem you were going to have to face was returning to TopGun—but then there was Bradley fucking Bradshaw. (BB)

Basic Emotional Manoeuvring // Tensions begin to rise between you and Rooster, you and Hangman, and Hangman and Rooster. With a secret close to your chest, you do your best to navigate the drills Maverick has the TopGun class run. (BB)

Dinner on me // With a last minute change of plan, Bob ends up taking you for a bite to eat. (JS) [Chapter is set in the middle of basic emotional manoeuvring]

Ego Check // When you find out that Jake has caused a fuss amongst his fellow pilots, it brings up the very reasons why you left in the first place. (JS)

The Other Women // Things were good between you and Rooster for what felt like a total of one whole minute before your entire world came crashing down around you—just like you knew it would. It’s always the same, the more you fuck around? The more you find out. (BB)

Just How Far I’d Go // When a man approaches you at the bar, Jake shows you just how far he’d go to protect you. (JS)

Flight 29 Down // You were told that for this mission to be a success there would need to be no less then two consecutive miracles—but all you got was a back seater and a shitty ex boyfriend. (BB)

Fuck, Marry, Protect Thy Lover // A trip to the emergency room and a night spent loving each other has you experiencing a nightmare so troubling it causes you to make a threat no one was expecting. (JS)

Vows // After attending the funeral of Tom Kazanksy, Jake is suddenly overcome with the need to commit again. An impromptu vow renewal leaves you both on a high before everything comes crashing down. (JS)

B-Rad // After the death of your father and some time spent with Rooster, you find it in yourself to keep pushing. But stealing an F-18 to run a course you weren’t permitted to has its consequences. (BB)

Hate Loving You // When Jake finds you in your office, things reach a height you’d both never been to. Bot your own emotional response and Jakes isn’t to fight it out—but to fuck. Dirty. (JS)

Addicts // All hell breaks loose when the uranium mission doesn’t go according to plan. Rooster follows you down into enemy territory. It’s a race against time to find a way home safely. (BB)

On The Team // When your Tomahawk strike is successful, the lingering presumption will f a climb in rank is quickly squashed when things take a dramatic turn. (JS)

Basically Brunette // Jake is stricken with a memory of you as he flys after his colleagues. You’re remembering fights that drove you apart. But all in all you find a way back to one another—only to be told some less than good news. (JS)

Sky Fall // You knew taking up the opportunity to do a fly over with Coyote was a bad idea. But nothing could prepare you for the inevitable outcome. Jake is left to watch helplessly as his entire world, the world he’d worked so hard to mend—comes crashing down in front of him. (JS)

Mums The Word // What do a Civilian, Captain, Admiral and a Commander have in common? Their love for the two Bradshaw boys. (BB)

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Chaos Tag list: @lyannaredbird​ @luckyladycreator2 ​ @skagelynn​ @teacupdreams @the-winter-marvel33reblogs @mrsjaderogers @katieshook02​​ @thescarletknight2014 @justanothermagicalsara​​ @4ngelicb4byy @percysaidnever​​ @puriini @luckylexie​​ @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @shrimping-for-all @fayethefairy @lonelywitchv2 @mizzzpink @unforgettwble @callmemana​​ @lemoonandlestars​​ @mulletmcghee​​ @redqueeen99​​ @bucky-barmes @mak-32​​ @fivsecondsflat​​ @loveless-simp​ @bradleysgirl @mintellaine ​ @hannabritta​ @nemtodd-barnes1923​ @bradleysgirl @xoxabs88xox @baju69 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @shanimallina87 @abaker74 @je-suis-prest-rachel

To Have & To Hold Tag list:  @justanothermagicalsara @alexsisrebekah@stinkyjax@starkleila @luckyladycreator2 @love2write2626@shanimallina87 @dempy @mintellaine @kiarabellerum31@abaker74 @shadowsndaisies @haworldwidefunnyguy @peakascum @ssprayberrythings

[very-lost-hobbit]

as requested by @seadem-on, my Blonco playlist commentary 😊

Full disclosure: I am but a simple creature, give me woman/women KILLING IT with voice and guitar and I am ON THE FLOOR and that plays a part in my playlist creation no matter what I do also this is LONG

1. Rebel On The Run by Dakota Ray Parker- I was mostly thinking of Tuco with this one, but Blondie's also a bit of a rebel in his own way. He's clearly in the bounty hunting business for that sweet sweet $$$ and not for any upstanding moral reasons

2. I'm Good For Nothing by Jimmy Dawkins- Once again more about Tuco than Blondie, but everything I've ever seen about bounty hunters has just a pinch of self depreciation so I think Blondie probably has some too, he's just buried it DEEP down

3. Strangers by Town Mountain- The beginning of their partnership, the first bits of devotion that neither of them will admit.

4. Going Down by Freddie King- Blondie getting deeper and deeper in his partnership with this criminal he has a crush on and keeping up the facade of being an upstanding citizen who happens to be a bounty hunter.

5. Ain't That Peculiar by Fanny (cover)- strengthening of their partnership and whatever elaborate kink thing they have going on with the whole hangman con

6. Bad Spell by Larkin Poe- I'll be honest this one just fits the vibes of their relationship/situationship to me and I can't exactly explain why

7. Be Forewarned by Macabre- The title says it all, the two of them warning each other in their own ways do not fuck with me. The effectiveness of their warnings is pretty moot but, there it is lol

8. Walk In The Sun by The Angry- ah, the song I came across listening to random alt(ish) oldies that made me want to make this playlist. Tuco's walk and Blondie's walk, while very different in vibes, do both have spite (on Tuco's part) baked into each one. And lots of sun, too.

9. Gold Gun Girls by Metric- yet another one where it's more about the vibes, but the lyrics speak of chasing something empty in gold and guns and girls and I think that's both of these two in their own ways

10. Searchin' For a Rainbow by The Marshall Tucker Band- I mean. They ARE looking for a pile of cash that sounds too good to be true!

11. Hope in Hell by Black Pistol Fire- the spiteful vibes fit both of them really well, but especially Tuco!

12. Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane- Okay back on track with movie plot, the two of them in the Mission and the whump happening there <3 Tuco was fucking with him but I do think a part of him did genuinely feel a little guilty. If nothing else than because being around his brother makes him default just a little less selfish.

13. Miss You by The Rolling Stones- Seperated in the Union POW camp and by Angel Eyes :( They miss each other! I swear it's not just because of the song name, something about the guitar style and harmonica that speaks to me as Blondie.

14. Stuck In The Middle With You by Stealers Wheel- The bridge. Need I say more? 👀

15. Funnel Of Love by Wanda Jackson- Ok so after the movie they say fuck it and accept they don't want to separate in my fan fic. And the way she describes it makes it sound out of control like I'm sure they both feel about it

16. I Don't Need Nobody by Human Expression- Come on we all know these two are toxicly devoted to each other <3

17. I Need You So Bad by Magic Sam- Same as 16

18. Runaway by Bonnie Raitt- So I've been considering retconning/explaining in a different way in my own fic that maybe Blondie DOES run away again after the gold and Tuco has to track him down. But also that bit where Tuco's tracking him with his cigars 🖤

19. You're No Good by Linda Ronstadt- They both know the other is no good for them in their own way, but they can't help themselves. For whatever reason they're drawn together time and time again

20. Starting Over by Christ Stapleton- So this is intended for right before my series begins, when they finally accept they want to stay together and kind of like each other, maybe they've kissed and had sex by now maybe not. Either way something fundamentally changes after reuniting with the money.

21. When It Comes To Love by Crystal Shawanda- They've had their ups and downs but in the end they're there for each other. Also I love Chrystal Shawanda's music so much I saw her live like 7 years ago and- (I'm biased but this IS on here because I genuinely think it fits them, the lyrics about being left wanting, desire, etc.)

22. Place In The Country by Fanny (cover)- The name of the song the lyrics about wanting to escape a war the longing for a place in the country? *chef's kiss* fits Blonco in my fic perfectly! Also the raw quality of Fanny in live performances fits Blonco So Well to me.

23. Before The Devil Knows We're Dead by Turnpike Troubadors- The wild devil may care way these two idiots blew up a bridge for money? This song gets that.

24. I Only Want To Be With You by Dusty Springfield 25. Baby What You Want Me To Do by Chuck Berry and 26. Nothing Compares To You by The Helltones- Some nice songs that fit the mood of this playlist to me no deep meaning, sorry.

27. Life Is a Carnival by The Band- Them adopting Large One, surviving the gunfight with Ang and Flora, finding the kids, etc. They've had a wild ride, and they're not done with hijinks yet! (I don't know if they'll ever be done with hijinks)

28. Hide Away by Stevie Ray Vaughan- Another one that just fit right in, this song is on the playlist almost entirely because it's what I was listening to while researching for their house and it stuck in my mind, especially with the thematic title.

29. Hell of a View by Eric Church- The two of them being sentimental about each other <3

30. Before I met You By Sierra Ferrell (cover)- Yet another love song I just think is nice and kinda fits the vibe of the playlist :) also the themes of wanting to ramble and be free? Both of them to a T!

31. Years by Sierra Ferrell (cover & I added it JUST as I'm typing this)- This one fits Blonco the way I wrote them SO WELL 😭 I can see old Blonco drinking their morning coffee enjoying grandbabies (maybe even great grandbabies?) and feeling some of the lyrics, especially the one about raising a family🖤. Once again Sierra Ferrell's version a) because of the raw quality and b) oh my god her voice 😳 The John Anderson version is also Very Good though, especially live.

32. Sober II by Lorde- Perhaps the most out of place song on this list, and the oddest to explain because... okay backstory lore; it's May(ish) 2023, I've just had my brain rewired forever by TGBU in SEVERAL different ways, it's on my mind and I'm half asleep in the back of my parents' car on the way home from a long trip, it's warm and sunny and my music is on shuffle and I'm overtired. So I'm thinking about how crazy the entire thing with Blondie and Tuco is and this song came on and whoa, it's them, "How we kissed and killed each other"? "All the gunfights and the limelights and the holy sick divine nights"? IT THEM!! It's forever associated with them for me now. I wanted to return closer to the original dynamic to finish out my playlist and I think the "we loved each other but holy shit we had our problems" in this song is so good for that!

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Febuwhump 17) Hostage Situation

(tw: team whump, captivity and some fights going on – I made a cut because it’s long but honestly it’s more adventure than horror)

*

Fighter had too much hair over her face. The band that’d held her ponytail had snapped when she’d been caught. That was the least of her problems at the moment, but she didn’t like it. Mediator noticed. Mediator had an unnerving instinct for this kind of things. He pulled out a brush and gently arranged her hair behind her ears.

“Still can’t believe you have that,” she said with a wan smile.

Mediator raised an eyebrow:

“I have an afro Blondie, you wouldn’t understand. Yours doesn’t get dry once an hour.”

“Maybe I should do like Leader and buzz them off.”

The mention of their Leader made them stop for a second. According to the number of meals they’d had, he’d been taken out of their cell since at least two days and they had no news since. Their guard had refused to tell them anything.

A couple of days ago, the team had been sent into enemy territory to negotiate. Mediator would have swore then that it’d went very well, and he wouldn’t have been wrong. But while Enemy Leader, their Leader and he were fiercely debating, he hadn’t seen that a guard had pointed a gun on his head, whereas none of the participants had been allowed to bring a weapon. Fighter though, who never paid attention very long when negotiations were going, had noticed. Her first kick had disarmed the man, her second had gone right into his rib cage. Five guards had rushed toward her, and she’d been on her way to knock down the fourth until she’d seen the gun against her Leader’s forehead. They’d immediately been accused of betrayal and sent into jail, then the latter had been dragged...somewhere else. By mutual agreement, they’d tried not to talk too much about this with the Mediator, especially since the guard was obviously listening to them. Sometimes frustration was stronger though, and her teammate whispered:

“I do not understand why that man shot. Weeks of work undone. Why?”

Unable to shrug, Fighter twisted her mouth:

“Sometimes men break.”

The guard had caught on and groaned:

“Or maybe he was sick and tired of hearing you talking shit -”

“Don’t even”, snapped Fighter.

“And you keep your mouth shut, you monster. Do you know how many are still hospitalized ?”

“Good.”

Mediator laid a hand on her knee and shook his head. Fighter gritted her teeth. He was right, it was no use to argue. That was wasting her strength. By what she could only call pure pettiness, the guard had ordered her to be covered in chains, like a gladiator in an old peplum. If he’d wanted to get on her nerves, she was sorry to say that it’d worked. Not being able to move her arms at all all this time had grown to annoying into painful and sometimes just short of unbearable. His teammate, who hadn't been deemed dangerous enough to be tied up, had helped her the best he could. He'd been very delicate and caring as always, but it was maddening having to rely on someone else for eating and other things.

Their bags had been confiscated, but trust Mediator to keep a whole array of objects on him. He never carried any weapons, but aside from the apparently very important brush, he had a pack of gum which had been useful to forget their hunger, and a tiny crosswords magazine which they’d used to kill time. They'd carefully avoided the sensitive subjects. They'd mostly bickered about what was the Wordle of the day they were missing out, a little bit because they were unhealthily interested in the game (that’s what Leader pretended anyway), but mostly because the guard was not-so-politely bored to death by their spats. Fighter had never been a great talker, but Mediator was, and all in all she was really grateful for his presence.

Still, Leader was missing. Mediator had the same train of thought as her, because he whispered a moment after:

“ I'd even gladly listen to his dumb hand puns.”

She couldn’t help but smile. Since Leader had lost his right hand in a mission, his delight and first priority had been to make this everyone else’s problem. A thousand “this got out of hand” had been answered every time he’d been asked how he’d lost it. Mediator and Fighter had applauded him at first, until they’d slowly realized he had no intent of stopping there. That had only been the beginning of an unceasing storm of hand jokes that would have made middle-schoolers groan in agony. Of course, if you’d roll your eyes even a little about that, this grown man would look at you with puppy eyes and whisper with a false tremolo: “Are you oppressing me ?” Basically, only the fact that they both loved him to pieces had prevented his teammates from pulling out a mutiny.

Mediator’s eyes were shining with tears.

“If I’d been convincing enough -”

Fighter did her best to bump his shoulder with hers.

“Don’t think like that,” she gently admonished. “It will get us nowhere.”

“Right.” Mediator sniffed. “I’m sorry. It’s just – that it’s been a while.”

“You’re tired. You should rest a little.”

He nodded and curled up next to her:

“Wake me up if you need anything.”

“I will.”

She didn’t. It was another one who jolted him awake. A tall, bulky and bald man barged into the room, his hands tied behind his back, accompanied with another guard with a sour face. He made an entry as solemn and dignified as usual:

“Heeey kiddos ! Did you have fun without me ? Eesh, can’t say that you did. You look terrible.”

Fighter made a deep sigh of alleviation. Mediator woke up with a gasp and ran towards the bars:

“Leader !”

It was him all right, and it was a huge relief to see him alive and on his feet. He looked fortunately intact. There was not a scratch to be seen on his face. His walk was strange though, like he’d been drunk, and his gaze was unfocused, gleaming with fever. He suddenly stopped, making the guard behind him start, and squinted his eyes:

“Fighter, what the hell are you wearing ?”

She laid down her eyes on her chains and made a face. Leader glanced at the cell guard:

“Seriously, who gave you the right to wrap up my girl like that ? I only have zip-ties and I am their chief ! It’s so goddamn unfair !”

Everyone was unsettled by that yell. He tripped on his feet and nearly fell, but caught himself in time. He burst into laughs before beginning to shake from every limb, leaning his back against the bars for support. Mediator tossed a terrified glance at Fighter; sure, Leader was always a little bombastic, but he’d never sounded that manic. What had they done to him ? Fighter had a look of grim understanding on her face.

“Sleep deprivation,” she mouthed to Mediator.

Leader whistled at her:

“That’s right, give this woman a prize ! Two fucking days, folks, and not a single drop of coffee !”

As he turned around, he had his back to Mediator, his fingers fidgeting wildly behind his back. With a dry gesture he’d already made before, his teammate pulled off the prosthetic hand, leaving the zip-ties to cling uselessly to the left arm. Leader giggled and punched the guard as hard as he could. The latter, who was unprepared, was instantly knocked out. The other rushed to the rescue and met the same fate.

“You do not fucking touch my team.”

Leader’s voice sounded sane now, only very tired. When he faced his teammates, his eyes were as cold and sharp as a steel blade.

“Mediator, gimme a hand, would ya ?”

Mediator literally did that, holding out his prosthetic back to him. In return, Leader threw him the keys found on the guards.

“Brief us,” asked Fighter.

“Sure.”

Mediator knelt next to Fighter and opened the lock of her chains. Leader sighed and put his back against the wall, his eyes half-closed.

“You okay, boss ?”

“Take a wild fucking guess,” answered the aforementioned, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Anyway, long story short, they wanted a pretext to keep us hostage until our beloved Chief relented to their demands. Said beloved Chief being what she is, she threatened them so bad they decided they needed to negotiate again, so their Leader is out with his own counselors and stuff. Meaning, he’s not here right now. Meaning, we’re out of this junk. I’m not gonna stay and play the role of the fancy trinket. We’re far too expensive for our own good.”

“On that point, I agree,” said Mediator. “But um, does that mean the negotiations I worked so hard for were for nothing ? And then they still went back to negotiating ?”

“Sorry, my guy. At least enough people heard them, maybe it will make them think. Then again, their team is made of guys thinking that handcuffing amputees is a great idea, sooooo…”

He threw out his hands in a frustrated gesture. Mediator frowned with a cold determination:

“It’s only the first try. I will make them listen.”

“Sure, yeah, but for now we bail. Fighter, how do you feel ?”

Kicking the chains far from her, she rolled her massive shoulders, stretched with a groan of pain, and made her knuckles crack, a small smile on her face:

“In the mood to go to work.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Come on kiddos, let’s take a walk.”

*

The Fighter is the Badass Lady from here, with her teammates making a cameo. I still don’t know that the Team does for a living except getting into Situations™ and rescuing themselves, but they love each other very much so that should count for something.

Back to Whump/Horror Masterlist.

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Redwood Psychiatric Institute - Part 1

MASTERLIST

Edit: Not me accidentally giving the dr two names - I originally had him as Morgan but changed it to Wilson later. I must have left a Morgan in there. Sorry for the confusion!!

Note: This was going to be in two parts, but I thought it would make more sense to combine them and put them in one post. So if you've already read the 1st bit, please keep reading!

Also, Happy New Year! I wanted to kick off 2023 with some whump writing that I'm proud of.

CWs: noncon drugging, forcedsedation, medical restraints, medical gaslighting, forced 'mental illness' treatment

"The psychiatric hospital stands tall with three story buildings, a sprawling lawn, and 6 foot fences enclosing the entire property." The figure narrated from the edge of the grounds. “In the moonlight, it’s an eerie sight to behold.”

He paused the recording temporarily to fiddle with the settings on the microphone, and snap another photo on his camera. ‘Low battery!’ warned the camera. 

“Damn..” He muttered under his breath. 

He turned back to look up at the building, and suddenly heard a twig snap behind him. He froze in place. It was just his mind playing tricks on him, he reasoned. He was alone. He didn’t speak again - just in case. The wind howled through the trees off in the distance. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. 

“Who’s there?” He breathed. 

No response. The woods stood silently swaying in the breeze. 

WHAM!

Something slammed into his back, knocking him to the ground. The camera and recorder were sent flying, the air was shoved out of his lungs from the impact. He didn’t even get the chance to scream, before something sharp pricked his neck. The world dissolved into darkness.

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

His eyes flew open to find that he was lying on a bed.

'It was just a dream, Rowan. Take a breath. You’re home. You’re safe.'

He looked around. Except, he wasn’t home. He was in a vast, empty room with pristine white walls and white linoleum flooring. Definitively not-home. 

'Where am I?'

The door cracked open. 

'Finally, someone to explain what’s going on,' Rowan thought. 

Three men stepped in. The first, a middle-aged, medium build man with small round glasses, a clean-shaven face and wearing a doctor’s coat. The other two were well built, tall, and wore white nurses’ scrubs. One had a scar below his left eye, with thick, dark curly hair on his head, and the other had blonde cropped hair and a mean-looking jaw. Blondie also had a nasty black eye.

These were not exactly the people Rowan was expecting. 

The doctor gestured for the two nurses to stand in front of the door, and then he slowly approached Rowan’s bed.

“Hello again. Glad to see you’re awake.” The man had a calm, quiet manner of speaking as he sat on the end of Rowan’s bed.

“Uh.. hi.” Rowan said slowly.

“Ah, I’m sorry.. one moment.” The doctor pulled a small penlight from the pocket of his coat, and shine it in each of Rowan’s eyes. “Hm..”

“Am I in hospital?” Rowan asked as the doctor put away the light.

The man glanced at the two in front of the door, before turning back to Rowan. “You don’t remember?” He asked, his cool tone giving nothing away. 

“No. I was.. what..” Rowan sighed, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember how he’d gotten in this room. 

Oh! The article!

“Well, I was conducting an.. article on a mental hospital.” He said, trying to mimic the doctor’s cool tone. Technically, he wasn’t lying. But he couldn’t let on the full truth, either.

“I see.”

“And then.. and then…”

'I can’t remember. What happened between the woods outside, and here?'

“Can you tell me your name?” The Doctor asked, pulling Rowan out of his thoughts.

“Rowan Murdock.”

“I see, Rowan..” The man glanced at the two nurses again.

“I’m a journalist for The Daily Press, maybe you’ve heard of me?”

The man looked back at Rowan. “Ah.”

“Look, am I in a hospital?” Rowan asked.

The man sighs softly. “What I’m about to say might be very hard to hear. I want you to stay calm, or those two orderlies will have to give me a hand, alright?” He asked, pointing with his chin at the two men in front of the door.

“Okay…” Rowan murmured. “Just, tell me.”

“Yes. You are in a hospital. But... Your name isn’t Rowan Murdock. It’s James Lawton. And you’re in a psychiatric hospital.”

Breathe, Rowan. Just breathe. Stay calm.

“But- that can’t be right. The last thing I remember was walking through the forest. On the outside of Redwood Psychiatric."

"Well, at least you remember the name of this place. You're a patient here - this is Redwood." The Doctor explained, gesturing around the room.

"But I'm not. That's what I'm trying to tell you! There's been some kind of mistake." Rowan pressed, fighting to keep his voice level. "My name is Rowan Murdock, and I'm a journalist. Not a crazy person."

"Listen, James. Take a deep breath. You're in good hands here. Of course you aren't crazy. That's a very outdated and harmful term. You just need help. There's nothing wrong with that." The Doctor placated. "And you've clearly lost your memory after the relapse caused by your escape attempt. So let me refresh your memory. My name is Doctor Wilson. You voluntarily placed yourself in the care of this hospital four months ago, after an increase in hallucinations, paranoia and violent behaviour. The most accurate diagnosis for your symptoms is schizophrenia. I'd like to continue working on your treatment with you, James."

"My name isn't James. If you found my camera, or looked in my-" he'd started to reach for his pant pocket as he spoke, only to realise that the clothes he had been wearing had been replaced by a thin white hospital gown. "-pocket… Well you must have, then. You'd have found my ID, with my name on it. Rowan Murdock."

"We didn't find any camera or ID, James."

"Stop calling me that."  Rowan protested.

"As your Doctor, it is not my place to play along with your hallucinations. I will only set back your recovery further."

"But I'm not your patient! You can't do this!" Rowan fought back tears.

"Take a deep breath, James. You voluntarily committed yourself to our care, meaning that you gave your permission to be here. We can even show you the paperwork if you like. We can keep you here for as long as we think necessary to treat you, because you legally gave us permission to do so." The Doctor tried in a soothing voice. "In a moment, Nurse Dean will bring your meds. You're going to take them for me, and you're going to calm down, okay?"

Rowan stared at the wall, refusing to meet the Doctor's gaze. A knock sounded at the door, and the two orderlies stepped aside to open the door. A man entered, wearing nurse's scrubs and carrying a tray with a dozen small wax paper cups, each with names printed on them. 

"Hello, James." The man said as he stepped up to the bed, handing the tray to the orderlies and picking up a cup with James Lawton on it. "Glad to see you're back with us. Here's your meds." He held the cup out to Rowan.

Rowan reached out and took it, holding up the small cup to inspect the half a dozen pills of different colours and sizes. "What are all of these for?"

“James, you might not remember, but I have told you this before - I can’t tell you, or any of the other patients’, that. You’d only try to avoid certain medications to avoid their effects.” Nurse Dean said firmly. He pushed the tablets closer to James. “Come on, take them. You know the drill, if you don’t take them, we have to inject the medication anyway. So you choose - easy way or hard way.”

Rowan stared into the cup for a moment longer, then slowly tipped the pills back into his mouth. And proceeded to subtly tuck them under his tongue. 

“Open wide.” Nurse Dean pulled out a tongue depressor, and used it to check in Rowan’s cheeks, and then lifted the patient’s tongue. When he found the tablets, he sighed. “James….” 

The nurse lifted the pills onto the wooden stick, then deposited them all at the back of his throat. Then, he placed his hand on Rowan’s throat and massaged firmly, forcing him to swallow the assortment of drugs. Rowan’s throat hurt from the large mass being shoved down his gullet all at once. He coughed, and the Doctor picked up a paper cup from the bedside table, and handed it to Rowan, who took it gratefully and swallowed several mouthfuls of water from the cup.

“I’m sorry. But that one’s on you.” Nurse Dean took back the tray of pill cups from the orderly, and turned to leave. “See you, James. Behave for Doctor Wilson.”

Rowan didn’t say a word as the nurse left, cataloguing the doctor’s name away - information that he was likely supposed to already have, but he didn’t want to add fuel to the Doctor’s claims that he had lost it. He balled the bedsheet in his fists for a few minutes in silence, until he realised Doctor Wilson was talking to him.

“-I’m very disappointed in you, James. You’re going to have to try better than that.” Doctor Wilson said, brow furrowed. 

“Ma nerm.. isen J-” Rowan stopped, realising his tongue was thick and heavy in his mouth, and words and syllables weren’t coming out properly. “Wh-”

The fluorescent lights were blurring above his head. He couldn’t hear, the world had been submerged in water. Where was he again? 

'The article. Something to do with the article. He said-'

'I didn’t-'

'Where am I?'

'Why is everything moving. It hurts.' 

'Let me sleep.'

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

James lay on the hospital bed, his head lolling around. He was blinking furiously, trying to stay with it, but they’d put him on such a high dosage that his efforts were futile.

Doctor Wilson stood and pulled the blanket off of his patient. He then turned to the orderlies. “Move him to the maximum security padded room, and restrain him.”

“Yes, Doctor Wilson.” 

The two orderlies approached the semi-conscious patient, picking him up from underneath his armpits, and began dragging him down the hallway.

“Excellent.” Doctor Wilson stepped out the room and closed it behind him.

He walked down the hall of the hospital, following closely behind the orderlies with James. He stepped in front of them, and opened the door with his thumbprint so that they could enter. 

The orderlies placed James on a small, frameless bed against one padded wall. The young man looked tiny as he curled into himself on the mattress, wispy strands of his short caramel hair hanging in his eyes. The orderly with the scar reached under the bed and pulled up padded cuffs that had straps attached to them, with the other ends of the straps sewn into the mattress. As the orderlies and Doctor Wilson held James down and started placing his arms and legs in the restraints, the patient tried to pull away, but he was too weak in his drugged state. With ease, the three men restrained him to the bed. 

Doctor Wilson and the orderlies left the room, closing the door behind them. Doctor Wilson knew that there would be a problem when his patient woke up, but he or the other staff would be watching from the cameras inside the room. 

“Martin, I need you to destroy that camera and ID.” Doctor Wilson said to the curly-haired orderly.

“Yes sir.”

~~~~~~~

PART 2

Taglist (there will be more parts so please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!): @whatiswhump and @jancameforthewhump

[alboys]

Mantimer domestic fluff - Manco’s nosy ass discovers Mortimer’s 50th birthday is coming up and buys him a birthday gift. It’s the first time Mortimer has celebrated his birthday since his sister’s death.

Mantimer hurt/comfort getting together - Manco has suffered from debilitating migraines since adolescence. His mother died of an aneurysm when he was young and he has always thought he was on borrowed time. He doesn’t expect Mortimer to continue their partnership and pick up the slack after finding out the truth but he does.

emotionally grueling Mantimer whump - Manco is forced into early retirement after suffering a gunshot wound to the shoulder and a near fatal case of sepsis. Mortimer has to evaluate if he can truly survive watching another person he loves die.

Blonco whump idiots to lovers silly fic - Following canon, Tuco’s lung collapses during after a group of outlaws jump him in a robbery attempt. Tuco is ultimately fine because he’s God’s favorite but Blondie is forced to confront how much he truly cares about Tuco’s well-being. And play nurse.

[cupcakes-and-pain]

What are some of your favorite whump series?

My dear anon, there’s so many that I could not possibly count. But some off the top of my head are as follows.

Both Linden & Col and Tomas & Rowe by @whumpzone

Ash & Callum and Gabriel by @whumping-every-day

Jim & Kane by @whumpsday

Anything by @kim-poce but especially Full House and On The Ground

Blondie by @go-ahead-and-whump

Weapons Don’t Weep by @wolfeyedwitch (and all her other stuff but this is my favorite)

Blackmuir Reign by @deluxewhump

Riley by @morelikepainsley

Okay there are more that I can think of, but I’m tired. Remind me to add more in the morning. okay bye now.

[hoedameron]

Dark Winds anon back again to talk about the new episode bc I have so many thoughts and no one to tell them to irl!! What an episode man aughhhhhhhh. (These thoughts are very disjointed so bare with me) The whole hospital scene was sooooooo cool! whoever did the lighting for that needs a raise fr. I almost wish it had been a longer sequence with Joe and Bern having to go inside and stalk blondie/ protect Chee, but that’s alright. Speaking of Joe, I’m absolutely loving the little descent to madness he’s got going on. The staring off into space, dismissing anything that isn’t the manhunt, the obvious exhaustion etc all works so well. Bern was really keeping an eye on Joe the whole episode, which leads me to think that she’s at least somewhat caught onto his spiraling and is….. Concerned….. at the very least. It does make me wonder just how much they’re going to touch on Bern’s feelings regarding Joe Jrs death, esp since she says he was like a little brother to her in s1. Personally I think that, unlike Joe, she would probably be able to keep her feelings out of her work more, and that she’ll probably be a rock for him (at least on the professional side, her deal with Joe and the border patrol job is smth else entirely) rather than succumbing to the same recklessness as Joe. (Tho if anything happened to Joe or Jim I imagine that might change). My guess is that if we see any of her thoughts about it, it’ll be a quieter moment off the frontlines. but that’s a complete guess, I could be wrong about all of that! Overall, another great ep. I won’t lie the timeline is sort of throwing me off (it doesn’t seem like it’s been 6 days since the events of the first ep) but maybe I’m just dumb. Veryyyy much looking forward to the next episode which based on the preview seems to be a lot of injured Zahn McClarnon walking simulator, my favorite!

OMG HELLO BABE sawwwy i had a swamped up week and barely had enough energy </3

every single episode keeps gettng etter and better like what did they put in this show that makes it sooooooo scrumdillyumptious....YESSSSS the entire coloring of this season has been sexy as hell and i hope whomever had a part in that decision gets sloppy onthe reg. joe can go on a spiral as a treat for having to deal with another whitte man messing around with his livelihood like totally understandable it's only fair. goshhhh, my bbygirl bern needs a break !!!!!! and she is also always the one getting thrown into the supernatural-esque situations like omfg GIRL.

that's why i adore the relationship between joe and bern because they take care of each other like they can alwys lean on each other and trust one another with each other's lives. no, you're right, i do think bern might be the anchor in the storm and the one who would most likely face consequences for their actions is joe since it's now eating away at him. the questions of how did that buckle end up there? what really happened? just swirling around in his head. naurrr, it's going rather quickly and that's the thing that sucks about this show is that it's only six episodes long </3 even my dad was like wthhhh do you mean it's only six episodes ....my thoughts exactly. at the same time, i do think that if it was any longer than 10 episodes, it might be a litle drawn out like i've seen shows with long seasons and it's not always good lol. WHUMP JOE EVERYON EO N THE WHUMP HURT NO COMFFORT JOE TRAIN BABEYYY!! two premium tickest please ^_^

[whumpeesblog]

@go-ahead-and-whump - Blondie 💙

Tumblr is letting me post images again! I've been quiet for a while due to tumblr app being dumb.

Enjoy an art process post :) click on individual images to stop this app ruining the quality and my life

[kabie-whump]

CYOA Whump Part 8

First | Previous

You chose: Beg for Tinny’s help. What do I have to lose?

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

You crane your head to watch as Tinny leans on the railing and waves her arms at someone. “Hey! Blondie! Come up here!” she shouts.

Then she returns to you, checking over your restraints.

“Please,” you whisper, making an effort to sound as pitiful as possible. “Please, Tinny. Help me. We can even make it look like an accident. Just leave the ropes a little loose. I’ll slip out on my own tonight. You will not be blamed.”

Tinny raises an eyebrow. “Then what would ya do, hm? We’re miles from land.”

Shit, she’s right. You might be able to gather the strength to fly away, but you’ll probably fall out of the sky before you find land. You’re not the strongest swimmer.

You try and fail to suppress a frustrated sob. “I don’t know. But please, I need help.”

“Sorry, kid. No can do.”

A thudding of footsteps draws her attention behind you. “Gotta job for ya, blondie. Watch the prisoner. Captain says no food and no water till he decides to cooperate.”

“Understood.” The ‘blondie’ in question enters your line of sight, looking at you with open curiosity.

Damn it. He’s attractive. Tall, muscular, rugged but not filthy. He has tanned skin and ivy green eyes and a splash of freckles across his flushed skin. Pointy ears poke out from a halo of curly blond hair.

“Hi,” he says to you. “I’m Onthyes.”

“Ventis,” you return shakily, trying to will the tears on your face to evaporate.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Tinny says, clapping Onthyes’s shoulder. “Don’t let the little freak of nature outta your sight. And don’t let him talk ya into nothin.”

“I won’t,” he assures her.

She leaves you two alone and Onthyes has a seat on a nearby crate. He’s still staring at you. It’s getting unnerving.

“Do I have something on my face?” you snap, your voice still thick with tears.

Onthyes jumps, shaking his head quickly. “No! Well yes, actually. You’re a bit bloody.” He stands and walks over to you. There’s a wet rag slung over his shoulder. He must have been cleaning something before this. He grabs the rag and holds it up to your face, stopping before it touches you.

“Can I clean it off?”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Next

CYOA whump taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @rainydaywhump @whumperofworlds @hauntedroseart @3-2-whump @fleur-a-whump @whumpsday @whumpisfun @whumper-whimsy @ghost-whump @fabled-whump @violets-whumperflies @whumped-by-glitter @thewhumpening-thesequel @lumpofsand @whumpycries @unicornbeck

[go-ahead-and-whump]

Blondie

Bollard: Part I

It’s been....a while. Sorry I haven’t been posting anything to this story for so long. I still absolutely love Dan and Blondie, and thanks to @morelikepainsley, I’ve really renewed my love for these characters. Also, I feel the need to once again thank @deluxewhump for inspiring these characters in the first place with one of her short stories way back. And thank you so much to anyone still interested in reading! I’ll be adding the tag list at the end of this post, but if you’d like to be removed from the tag list for whatever reason, just dm me and I’ve got you covered! CW: mild blood, mild electrocution, dehumanization, general whump stuff.

It’s a good thing Shell gas stations carry ear plugs. If not, Blondie is certain he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. 

Dan snores particularly loudly when he’s extra tired, and they pushed for two extra hours on the road today. OTR operators are only supposed to be on the road for eleven hours, but Dan said he could handle it. Then, by the twelfth hour on the road he was persistently nursing a redbull and devouring sour patch kids by the fist full just to keep himself occupied until they reached the outer limits of Flagstaff. After parking, Blondie helped fuel the truck. He’s been learning how to help Dan during their pit stops by making sure everything was working as it should be. Supper was little more than two frozen entrees of and some zebra cakes for dessert. By the time Dan’s head hit the pillow, he was out like a light and snoring like a bear within minutes. 

Blondie doesn’t mind. He’s gotten used to the sound of the engine chugging almost 24/7, so Dan’s snoring isn’t much different. He falls asleep shortly after Dan, exhausted simply by proximity. By 9:30 both of them are passed out, dreaming of open roads and clear skies surrounded by snow capped mountains and rolling plains. 

Then mother nature calls. 

Blondie stirs awake, noticing that one of his earplugs is gone, probably tangled in his hair somewhere. He leans over the side of his bunk, reaching down to the nightstand where Dan’s phone sits charging, face up. The screen is blinding when he pokes the home button and he’s greeted by a picture Dan had taken of the two of them standing in front of the Jolly Green Giant statue in Minnesota from one of the trips they’d made going up to Ontario, Canada. The memory of when the photo was taken passes briefly though Blondie’s mind and the corner of his mouth quirks up. 

It’s 3:56 a.m: mountain time. Keeping track of the time becomes an impossible chore when they’re on the road, going from timezone to timezone, losing and gaining hours, sometimes two in a day. 

“Dan.” Blondie leans further over the edge of his bunk and feels his hair fall down over his shoulders like Rapunzel. He pokes Dan’s shoulder hesitantly. “Dan?”

The snoring stops, but Dan doesn’t wake. Blondie tries one more time. 

“Dan...wake up.” He shakes Dan’s shoulder with a little bit more force. 

“Hmm?” 

“I have to use the bathroom.” Blondie whispers, feeling childish. He shouldn’t be waking Dan, especially after such a long day, but he can’t leave the truck without telling his master.

“Oh.” Dan murmurs, still only half awake. He turns from his stomach onto his side and checks the time on his phone as well. Same as Blondie, he winces when the brightness of the screen burns his retinas and he lets out a displeased grunt, straining to read the time. “Okay.” He mumbles, twisting under the covers like he’s trying to muster the will to sit up.

“You don’t have to get out of bed.” Says Blondie, staring down like a bat. “I...I can go alone. I just wanted to let you know.” 

Dan sucks in a breath and tries to speak as he yawns. “I should….go with you.” 

But Blondie knows he’s tired, and the thought of dragging Dan out of bed at four in the morning just to follow him to the bathroom seems ridiculous. He’s perfectly capable of going on his own. He’s being a pain.

“Please, Dan?” Blondie chews his lip. “You drove a lot today. I can go alone, I promise. I’ll be really quick.” 

A handful of seconds pass in silence aside from the sound of the engine and Dan’s breathing, heavy from having just woken up. When he doesn’t respond, Blondie wonders if it’s because he’s fallen back asleep. Then Dan sighs once more and lifts an arm to scratch between his shoulder blades. He’s shirtless. Dan only ever wears sweatpants to bed, unless they’re further up north. Getting up would mean he would have to put on a sweatshirt and some socks, then he’d have to slip into his work boots just to walk outside for a trip that he doesn’t even need to make. 

“Alright.” 

Blondie beams in silent victory and slides down from his bunk. 

“Just make sure you wake me up when you come back so I know you’re safe.” 

“I will.” Blondie shuffles into his tennis shoes and steps outside. The air is cool. Autumn in Arizona gets chilly, especially at night, but Blondie bops along through the maze of semi trailers to the humming, greenish-yellow light of the gas station convenience store. ...

Morning comes with a wave of unease, and Dan recalls the vague seed of anxiety in his gut he used to get way back in high school on days when his brain tricked him into thinking he’d overslept an important exam. He grunts. His limbs ache in protest as he gets up. The mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline from waking up anxious swirls in his head and makes him dizzy. He needs coffee. Shell gas stations always have the worst coffee. It’s burnt and tastes like jet fuel, but caffeine is caffeine, and Dan isn’t about to drink a redbull at a quarter to seven in the morning. He remembers seeing a cappuccino machine inside next to the coffee. Blondie likes iced lattes, so he’ll have to pick up a one for--

Fuck. 

That seedling of anxiety is there again, suddenly digging it’s tendrils into the pit of Dan’s stomach and root. Dan shoots out of bed and feels his heart stop when he sees the empty bunk above him. 

“Fuck.” His breath starts to pick up and his blood thickens like ice in his veins. “Blondie.”

Before he even tries to gain control of the racing thoughts that are whipping through his mind, Dan practically jumps through the passenger’s side door of the tractor, not bothering to grab a shirt or even a pair of shoes as he leaves. 

“Blondie?!” He shouts, feeling the chill of the morning raise goosebumps on his arms. Dan cups his hands around his mouth and calls again. “Blo--ndie!” He calls like a master to their dog.  

How long has he been out, two hours? Three? Maybe he got stuck in the bathroom. Maybe he couldn’t find his way back to the truck and asked to stay in the store. Dan jogs around the front of the semi, vaguely aware of how the cold gravel beneath his feet makes his skin ache. Is he shaking from the cold, or something else? 

“Blo----ndie!”

There are other drivers headed to and from the convenience store with their morning cups of joe in hand. Other drivers sit outside their tractors smoking a cigarette. Some are checking under the hoods of their trucks to make sure they’re all set to head off. All of them are staring at Dan as he jogs around in nothing more than an old pair of grey sweats with a look of hopeless panic in his eyes. 

Dan spends somewhere upwards of ten minutes weaving in and out of the parking lot, checking for any sign of his missing pet. Under the trailers, behind the tires, maybe even sitting next to the driver’s door. Each time he rounds a corner, he imagines, with a pathetic shred of optimism, that he might catch a glimpse of that blond head of hair wandering around aimlessly in search of his master. 

Cold dread sets in. The parking lot is much emptier now than it was last night. At least half of the trucks must be gone, and although Dan knows better than to lump his fellow drivers into one stereotype, he’s met plenty of creeps on the road. Plenty of scummy old men who might be out for a smoke in the middle of the night that catch a glimpse at a pretty boy and think that he’s a fine prize to bring with them. A few nice words, that’s all it would take. Well, aren’t you a good boy? I’m sure you are. Such a pretty young thing. 

“For fuck’s sake.” Dan seethes in anger at himself. Shut the fuck up. You know Blondie is smarter than that. He’s not a fucking labrador. He can take care of himself. 

But another voice in the back of Dan’s brain says, No he can’t. 

He wonders if that’s true. Sure, the kid has gotten better at speaking up for the things he wants, but realistically, Dan knows that it would be all too easy for some man to have snatched him up in the middle of the night and dragged him into their truck. By now, they could be across the border in any which direction, never to be seen again.

Nausea sets in so quickly that Dan has to steady himself against the side of a flatbed and cup his hand over his mouth, breathing deeply to keep from throwing up. He’s never been one to pass out in situations like this, normally he doesn’t crumble under pressure, but suddenly the floor is starting to look a little too comfortable and he can feel himself swaying. 

Do I call the cops? What do the cops do about it? How would they know? I have a picture of him but--

As if conjured up by his thoughts, Dan turns the corner around an old, blue Kenworth and finds a police cruiser parked in front of the convenience store. Two, in fact. And a state trooper....and an ambulance. 

Their lights are all flashing.

In front of one of the cruisers is an officer, sitting back against the hood of her vehicle. Her head is tilted to the side, and she seems to be saying something into the walkie talkie on her shoulder. 

Dan takes a step forward and finds that his legs have turned into jello. He’s shaking. All of the responders are staring at one spot on the ground, standing around with their hands on their hips or with their arms crossed. Waiting. No one seems to be in any hurry to do anything. Whatever they’re staring at, they aren’t rushing to help, and suddenly Dan isn’t so sure he wants to see what it is they’re all looking at, but his feet keep leading him closer to the scene. 

A pair of legs comes into view, lying on the ground. Dan recognizes the size 10 black sneakers he’d bought two months ago. 

The world tilts off of its axis. Dan breaks into a sprint. 

“Blondie!” He shouts the only word that can come to mind and his voice comes out more like a plea. “Blondie!”

Before Dan can break through the small gathering of spectators and responders, three officers are on him pushing against him in restraint. “Sir!” They shout. “Sir, please step back. We need you to stay back!” They form a wall and grab him by the shoulders, shoving and pushing him back as he tugs against them. As big as Dan is, he’s but only one man. Still he puts up a fight and it takes all three officers using a good amount of force to keep him from bursting through the crowd. 

“Let go! Let me go!” Dan barks, fighting back with every ounce of the strength he has left. “I need to see him! Let me fucking see him!”

“Sir! Please just step back!” 

A few of the onlookers standing nearby shuffle away at the commotion and suddenly Dan gets a clear view of the scene. There, sitting on the chipped pavement of the sidewalk with his back pressed up against one of the bollards, is Blondie. Not his body, but him. He’s alive, he’s breathing, and Dan wonders for a moment why the officers have cuffed him to the bollard but after another moment’s inspection he realizes that he isn’t bound by handcuffs. Just like his ankles, his wrists are bound with a bright orange zip tie, and his arms are pulled back around the other side of the yellow pole. When he looks up, Dan can feel his breath escape him. There’s blood caked around his mouth, a congealed mess that looks like it dripped from his nose. Two dark, crescent shaped bruises outline the heavy bags under his eyes which are puffy and red. His cheeks are pale white and streaked with the salt of his tears. 

That cold, gnawing grief flutters away, now replaced with the desperate urge to curl around Blondie and hide him from the world. Dan tugs again at the officers restraining him. “Blondie!” He shouts, almost euphoric with relief.

“Dan?” Blondie echoes a weak response.

“Sir if you don’t step back we are going to taze you.” the shortest officer says. It’s clear that all three of them are losing their patience, but Dan remains undeterred. “He’s mine!” Dan bellows, sounding more and more like a snarling animal with each passing second. Loud. Mean. Dangerous. “He belongs to me! He’s mine! Let me go! Let me fucking go!” Dan manages to tug one arm free, giving him a slight purchase–a single step closer to Blondie. Then, faster than anyone can react, a bang rings out. The crowd flinches, and Dan feels two prongs speared into the bare skin of his back. The pain comes in less than in instant, before Dan even realizes what has happened. It’s stinging, tugging, aching, sharp and burning. A noise rips through his throat like a wounded animal and every muscle in his body tenses for what feels like minutes before he falls limp to the ground right in front of Blondie. His body lands with a thud, his bare chest scraping against the chip seal pavement. Sharp little pebbles bite and nip into his skin, and he can feel the road rash on his knees and arms. The side of his head collides with the ground and a sharp crack rings through his ears, followed by an immediate and piercing note.

“DAN!” Blondie screams, sobbing and tugging against his restraints. Dan writhes on the ground, gritting his teeth as the stinging shocks of pain are amplified with the incessant clicking noises, the sound of the electricity being fired into his body from the taser and Blondie wailing his name. Then there’s a weight on top of him, someone cuffing his arms behind his back. Dan coughs and gasps under the pressure and yelps at the sensation of the barbed rods being ripped from his skin.

“Wait!” 

He’s definitely bleeding now. He can feel blood dripping down his temple.  “Wait! Please!” He begs, “Please! I’m his owner!” Despite the pulsing pressure that makes his head feel like it’s going to explode, he tries desperately to yell over the sound of Blondie’s crying. “His name is Blondie! He has a chip under his left arm! If you scan it my name will pop up: Daniel Robert Schmidt! I bought him at a shelter on West Palm Avenue in Miami! I have his papers and documents in my truck! Please! Please! I don’t know how else to tell you,” A wheeze breaks up his plea and he dissolves into a fit of wet coughs. “I don’t know how else to tell you that he’s mine!” Blondie is weeping openly and Dan can’t bring himself to look away. “Da––an!” He sobs. “Don’t let them take you!” Fresh blood starts dripping from his nose, loosened by snot and tears. “Don't let them take you!” The audience around them must be enjoying their show, Dan thinks and seethes as they watch on. He huffs and puffs under the weight of the officer’s body pinning him down, and then there is a shadow looming over him. Someone curses, spewing insults at the officer who’s pinning him to the ground. A pair of black work shoes, like the ones doctors wear in hospitals, stands in front of his face. “For pete’s sake, get off of him!” And the weight of the officer is yanked away and replaced by the feeling of two cold hands on his back, holding him firmly but not painfully to the ground. “Uncuff him.” Says the woman standing at his head. Only one hand is cuffed, but Dan keeps both hands behind his back. He hears the sound of a small key jingling behind him and soon the cold weight on his wrist is removed. Dan scrambles up to his knees and crawls to Blondie, blocking the invasive gaze of those onlookers who are still standing around, waiting for the story to be resolved. He doesn’t have the heart to feel angry at the moment. All he can think of is the trembling body is his arms, shivering from the cold and fear, whimpering as Dan hushes him and smoothes the down his neck.

It takes a moment for it to register in Dan’s head that Blondie is whimpering in pain too. His arms are still bound behind the pole. He turns around to ask if someone can remove the zip ties, but the woman is already one step ahead of him. She crouches behind the bollard and whips out a pocket knife. With one upward tug, the restraints are removed. Blondie sags forward, finally breathing with the full capacity of his lungs again. His shoulders are numb for a few seconds until the lactic acid burns around his shoulder blades and the soreness sets in. All he can do is lean against Dan. His fingers are freezing, his skin feels raw from the cold, and his toes are going numb, even from under the cover of his shoes. The rubber toes on his sneakers aren’t good for insulation. “Dan.” Blondie groans and tucks his face into Dan’s neck. Every inch of him feels sore or cold or numb from the two sensations. The EMT breaks the zip ties around Blondie’s ankles. “Mr. Schmidt, if you’ll follow me. We have a place for the two of you in the ambulance. I’d like to check the both of you for any injuries that need immediate medical attention.” She is short–only up to around Blondie’s shoulder–and Dan can’t tell if she’s closer to his age or Blondie’s. “Hold on to me, sweetheart.” Dan whispers and presses a kiss to Blondie’s temple. “Hold on. We’re gonna be okay.” __________________ Sorry for the abrupt cut off. Part 2 will be up very soon. Tag List:  @neuro-whump @inky-whump @faewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @looptheloup @whimperwoods @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @oracle-of-maybe @galaxywhump @newandfiguringitout @whumpqhs again, if I missed anyone or if anyone would like to be added or removed from the tag list, just send me a message and I can take you off!

[milk-carton-whump]

Yet another oc, who would've predicted that?

*Edit: thanks to all four of you who are tagged for helping me with figuring this out. Yall are always a huge help and I absolutely adore you for it.

Tagging: @cowboy-anon @unicornscotty @sideblogformindtrash @tears-and-lilies

CW: pet whump, pet whumpee, multiple whumpees, pet whump training, collar, mild dehumanization

A hesitant knock on the door roused him from his sleep, his threadbare and worn through dog bed barely provided him comfort anymore. He stretched as he got up, a tag jingling from his collar. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he opened the door to be met with a woman and her clearly annoyed pet held by her side with a tight leash. 

"Hello ma'am, are you here to drop your pet off for training?... um… and I hope you've filled out the paperwork?" He asked, his voice soft and tired. 

She leaned in to get a better look at his tag before responding. 

"Blondie?... yes everything is in order, your master is going to train Scout to be a perfect little pet, right?" She said while yanking on the leash, choking Scout.

"Yes ma'am… I can take him for you… it'll be about a month then you can come pick him up." He said while holding out his hands for the leash.  

The woman hesitated before handing over the leash, worried that he might let her pet go. However, Blondie's owner had an excellent review and several comments had mentioned the sweet blonde pet that greeted them upon drop-off and pick-up. She had little choice but to trust him. 

Blondie smiled at her as he took hold of the leash and led the other pet inside. As soon as the door closed, the blonde boy dropped the pleasant smile he'd had on his face. He always hated trying to please those people, the owners and masters.

"...i… I'm really sorry about this… and everything that's coming. It's easier if you just follow the orders." Blondie said to the other pet as he stopped in front of a wire cage that was next to another one with a trembling blindfolded pet inside. 

"What?? Why are you doing this...helping them?? What's wrong with you?" Scout snapped but lowered his voice at Blondie's panicked expression. 

"I… don't you think I've tried? I'm trying to help you, please remember what I said." 

The other pet held themselves and turned their head toward the voices. They crept blindly toward the bars of their cage. 

"Blondie?.... please…. Help us." They pleaded in a hoarse whisper. 

"You know I can't do that, Clover… now hush..  You'll hurt your voice more." Blondie warned carefully. 

Clover only quietly nodded and went back to hugging themselves. The new pet looked down at the wire kennel, clearly pissed off and nervous. He took a long hesitant moment before carefully getting down on his hands and knees to climb into the cage, he knew Blondie was just doing his job. 

The cage door locked and the blonde pet made his way upstairs, carefully taking one step at a time until he reached his Master's door. He always found this part to be absolutely terrifying, his hand had barely knocked on the bedroom door when it suddenly flung open. 

"What the fuck do you want, Blondie?" His master snapped as he slapped him hard across the face. 

His head snapped to the side and he offered up a quiet whine, just as his master liked. He slowly turned his face back forward but kept his eyes down. 

"Sir, Scout is here for his training… he's in kennel two for you." He said quietly. 

"Oh, good job." Damien said as he ruffled the wavy blonde hair, making the boy flinch. 

Blondie smiled and leaned into the touch. He followed the man as he pushed past him and went downstairs.