#implied/references suicide

[mckiwi]

Stephen Strange was a doctor, a good one at that– a great one. He and Death had never been on good terms. She took his family from him, so he took his patients’ lives back from Her. He always stood outside of Death’s door, guarding it, keeping it locked away from others as best as he could. But Death comes for everyone, in the end.

He should be dead. By all means, that wreck was supposed to have killed him. As he hung there suspended by nothing but seat belts, with blood rushing to his head and the cold-water biting into his skin, he knew he would close his eyes and never open them again. And yet, he did. If it wasn’t the wreck that killed him, then surely it would be the sight of his mangled hands. Why is he here? Surely Death would’ve taken him when She had the chance. Years he’d spent, cheating Death out of lives She had worked hard for. Well, he wouldn’t be able to cheat Her anymore, not with this new life, anyway. Maybe he had died, after all. Isn’t having nothing to live for just as good as being dead?

Stephen Strange was a sorcerer– definitely not the best, or even close to it, but he was decent. He’d found peace at Kamar-Taj. He found peace in the ancient books he couldn’t yet read and the sound of rain in the courtyard. He could heal his hands here, start his life anew and save people again. Then came Kaecilius and Dormammu.

It was hard to remember his oath to do no harm while staring at a dead man. A man that was dead because of him, no less. Stephen offered up this man to the claws of Death so that his own might be spared another day. Soon followed The Ancient One, accepting Death’s invitation after centuries of denying it. Sometimes he’d wonder why she looked almost relieved.

Stephen Strange was the wielder of the Time Stone. He locked himself in a loop to save the Earth, and all the lives he’d reversed in the process. Life and Death had a certain balance, and he was sure to keep to it. That old man on the street making stir fry? Stephen took a spear through the gut. The woman watching funny cat videos on her phone? Stephen was blasted into atoms. His life, over and over, in exchange for theirs.

During one loop, as Stephen was choking on his own blood, taking his final breaths, he thought he heard Death speaking to him. You don’t have to do this, you know? I could end this. You could end this.

Stephen Strange was a human man– and a human man shouldn’t have been able to experience fourteen million different lives and still be able to function. With each life came a death, then the cycle repeated. Despite what your kind thinks, I’m not cruel. Some see me as a bringer of peace. I could give you that. No, he wasn’t allowed to die. Not yet. The brain is an organ, too. It can kill you just as easily as any other if not properly cared for.

Fourteen million times now he’d robbed Death of his soul. He stood at the door and waited. Taunting, never coming inside, never even indicating that he’d wanted to. Occasionally he’d end up giving Death a few sacrifices, such as the likes of Tony Stark or Natasha Romanoff. Giving up such sacrifices took a toll on Stephen, much more so than he probably even realized himself.

Stephen Strange was a Master of the Mystic Arts, a good one at that– a great one. He and Death had grown closer over the years. She’d cut things short when the pain became too much to bear in the loop with Dormammu. She’d save him the agony of having Thanos shred his soul with the Soul Stone. He often dreamt of Her, and all the ways he’d finally get to be taken into Her arms forever. He’d spent years ripping people away from Her embrace. Now he understood why they’d be so upset once they came back.

In the process of trying to save America Chavez, he’d have to visit an old friend. To dreamwalk into his dead variant’s body, he’d first have to do something. He knocked on Death’s door. She answered with a smile and held out Her hand. He took it.

[vaimetanyx]

Oh how wonderful, how terrifying, to be loved to destruction

The full quote can be found here

[cubitodragon-moved]

We (the viewers) know Bad’s physical and mental state is in decline, highlighted especially by the head wound that continues expanding to a worrying degree.

And now he’s fixated on building a puzzle that will deliberately drive someone into an absolute rage, to the point they’d murder him. He’s really really fixated on that point. Like, he has doubled down on the emphasis.

He’s been vaguely referencing how he needs to keep going as long as he can (paraphrased) for a while. Is this a case where he cannot let himself fade away, to die at his own hand, but needs someone else to take him out - and if so, why? What additional purpose does death serve in this scenario? How does this tie in to memories, libraries and remembering?

I have to go sleep now. But thinking about this could well keep me up all night.

[lvminisciel]

You are a god, and i am your scales.

not even close to a compliance, 

i am but mere scales, flocked around

bits of me will soon fall into the abyss

as you soared with your grace

amidst grayish hue

dutifully, every single being within me

shall worship you with no argue, unquestioning, unyielding.

not even close to an envoy, 

i live on day by day

believing that i am covering you, safeguarding, protecting—

even when Your might is greater than all of us combined 

i am but a mere mortal devoting my insignificant existence to you, 

an omnipotent immortal who shall rule this bountiful land 

dutifully i tread my path

whatever appeal you shall i serve

i am more than grateful to be alive within your grasp

please do use me to your heart's desire

a being dedicated to you and only you

if it is death you adore,

my carcass shall be handed to you on a silver platter

if it is life you crave,

then i shall travel between realms

even if it meant trapping my soul in the process

if it is love you yearn

then i repent, my Lord,

for i have none to give

nor do a temporal frame such as i

deserving of such decorum 

please forgive my incompetence, your Highness

you may have my skull in exchange, if you wish

[sparrowsage]

The Warehouse: Digging Up Old Memories

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

HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THIS ONE!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#####

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

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

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

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

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

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

#####

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#####

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[timefospookies]

the silly!!!!

[pochapal]

oh ok so genji's just straight up confirming these deranged things as truth. got it.

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Winter Sounds — Campbell Bain x Reader

*This chapter has words with slashes. This is means you use the word that applies to where you live. Like GED in America means "General Educational Development Test" while there is no U.K. Equivalent (based off a thirty-second Google search) but I found A-Levels which is what Rose Tyler refers to when talking about school in the revival Pilot so... this is how I learn about things, I pick up what I've heard in TV shows. Obviously there are other countries but I’ve never heard of any other terms for these so comment if I missed some.*

Summary: It’s Campbell and Y/n’s last day together before he goes traveling for a Radio DJ competition, unfortunately Y/n can’t come with and Campbell has become a little clingy

Warnings: Mentions of the suicide of a good friend of theirs, Spoilers for Takin' Over the Aslyum, Winter activities, Skating, Implied Short Reader, Implied Non-Scottish Reader; Mention of Past Toxic Relationship; Referenced but not mentioned relationship involving rape.

Note: I had the perfect gif for this when it was on Wattpad but I have a new laptop now and they took down my account and I can't find the gif. It was a gif of a couple kssing on the ice and then they slipped and both fell down.

(Post-Asylum; May be connected to "Sweet Jane" or read alone; If you decided to include this in Sweet Jane, this takes place between the ending of the series and the epilogue written by me.)

"I want your love to consume me like an oversized winter coat. Hands clasped around my waist like buttons done up properly."

Early March, 1995 (Early Eight months since the events of Takin’ Over the Asylum)

They had known for nearly two months that Campbell would be leaving but Y/n was on her way to get her A-Levels/GED since she had dropped out of secondary school/high school to go to the asylum but now it seemed that it had hit Campbell as he was even more clingy than normal.

"Campbell." She groaned as he hugged her from behind as she was trying to make Scottish Lentil soup for the two.

"But... baaaabe, I'm leaving tomorrow. I won't be able to see you in three weeks." He whined, burying his head into her back. "I won't be able to touch you. I won't be able to snuggle you as we sleep. I won't' be able to hear your voice."

"We can still talk on the phone." She protested.

"It's not the same! I won't be able to kiss your back." He whined.

He kissed her back before trailing to her shoulder as he pulled her sleeve up to reveal her shoulder and kissed it, "I won't be able to kiss your shoulder." He moved to her neck, "I won't be able to kiss your neck." He grasped her hips and turned her around and kissed her cheek, moving to her jaw and chin. "I won't be able to kiss your cheeks, your chin, your jaw." He pulled away to ease her to the counter beside the stove before pressing her against it as she couldn't help but smile and giggle. He kissed up her face to her forehead. "I won't be able to kiss your face." He tilted her head up and he kissed her lips. "I won't be able to kiss your lips."

"Cam... we..." He kept quieting her with kisses before moving to her neck, though it seemed he was taking in her scent as he kissed her neck. She had leaned her head back so he could have access with he happily obliged with open-mouthed kisses. "Campbell, it's five. I, uh, I had some plans for a date tonight. But we need to eat first."

"What kind of date? Dinner? Movie?" He hummed.

"No, that's why we're eating now." She said.

"Wait a minute, it's nearly twelve in the morning. What date takes place after midnight?"

"It'll be outside. You'll need to dress in warm clothing. But I need to finish the soup first." 

He gave her a smile with a deep emotion in his eyes, she couldn't quite detect, "What?"

"I just love you so bloody much." He said, earnestly.

--

Campbell and Y/n walked through Glasgow with her being all vague which kept Campbell frustrated and all pouty.

"Be patient, Cam."

"I'm not a patient person!" He almost yelled.

"Oh, I know." She said, playing with her satchel that she refused to show Campbell what it contained. "Just wait and see."

"Just wait and see!? Do you have any idea how irritating that is!?" He whined.

She eventually led him to a park, it was a rather snowy March, so the pond at the park was frozen, she took a pair of ice skates out of her satchel.

"You want to skate at one in the morning?" He laughed.

"Well, I'm a looney." She teased.

"Yes, you are." He grinned and kissed her, he cupped her face with both hands. "Yes, you are."

--

Ten minutes later, Y/n was teaching Campbell how to skate, though he was a bit clumsy but she kept him up by holding his hand.

At one point, she did an impressive spin, which made her hair spin around her head like a H/C halo as Campbell watched with a dropped jaw... drooling slightly.

"How'd you learn how to do this anyways?" He laughed, flailing his arms, trying to keep himself upright.

Y/n spun around and her smile faltered before turning bittersweet, "Uh, when I first arrived to Saint Jude's... Fergus took me." 

"Oh."

"He took me a few times, not even expecting me to talk. I picked this up quick and I even laughed. He considered that a victory." She said, sadly.

Campbell slid over to her and embraced her, which he originally intended to do but also to stop him from falling. "I miss him too." Campbell said in her ear, he pulled away.

She handed her hand out in front of her, offering it to him which he took and she skated with him, he... well, to say, he got the hang of it isn't right, but he wasn't completely fall-on-his-face-with-each-stroke terrible. 

At one point, she tripped and nearly fell but Campbell caught her through this threw him off balance and he fell with Y/n landing on top of him. 

They laughed at this and kissed, they decided they had had enough and put their shoes on that they had clipped to their belts and got up on the ice.

 Campbell brushed off some snow and then turned to his girlfriend who was looking at him with a sparkle in her eyes.

"What?" He laughed.

"I love you so bloody much too." She said.

He grinned... like a maniac... like a looney and he pulled her in by the waist for a slow, passionate kiss but slipped on the ice now wearing his normal shoes and he pulled Y/n closed which brought them both down with her, once again, landing on his chest.

"I just can't play it cool." He laughed.

"I don't know. Nineteen-year-old Radio DJ. Hyperactive, loud, energetic, passionate, enthuastic, charismatic, spontaneous, easy-going, creative, independent, brave, funny, sarcastic, sexy..." He clicked his tongue and winked at her.

"Mmm, do say more things you like about my personality." He hummed, playing with a short lock of hair of hers. 

"Impulsive, loud, hard to keep track off." She teased.

"Oh, you wound me." He groaned, dramatically.

"How about this? Sweet, loyal, handsome, romantic, hot..."

"Yeah. That's the ticket." He said, nodding, "But you forgot one thing. Totally, ridicouslously in love with you and definitely going to miss you for the next three weeks."

"Me too. You've been in my life for less than a year and already... I can't imagine my life without you. You're all the things I just said and more. You are the best guy I have ever dated though granted, given the last and only other one abused me for years on end and traumatized me into muteness, that wasn't a high bar." She looked down, averting eye contact with Campbell.

Campbell tucked the lock of her hair behind her ear, "He won't ever hurt you again, baby. Never ever."

She shivered a little and concerned appeared on his face, "Shite. Your nose is all red. You're freezing. Let's get ho... let's get you home." Once off the ice and pulled him back and he looked at her.

She stepped closer, raising herself on her tip-toes while weaving her hand through his hair on the back of his head and kissed him slowly when she pulled away, his eyes fluttered open and then shook his head.

“Sorry, you know, most girls, normal girls, always dream of having the perfect kiss with the perfect guy.” She said and then cringed, “Sorry, that was like the cheesiest thing ever.”

“Yeah, it was. So that’s super embarrassing for you.” He teased but then she sneezed. “Let’s get you home before I have to drop out of the DJ competition to take care of you. Come with me, Juliet. Follow your Romeo.” Then he immediately slipped and fell back down, face first in a pile of snow.

--

Campbell handed her a cup of freshly made hot chocolate with whipped cream after she got out of the shower when they got home.

"Oh, how thoughtful." Y/n said, cupping her boyfriend's cheek and stroking it with her thumb.

She took the mug and drank a big gulp, letting it warm her insides as she had already began to get cold from the shower.

Campbell grinned when he saw she had whipped cream on her nose, he leaned over and licked and kissed it off.

"Campbell!" She laughed.

"Mmm. Tastes only slightly more sweet than usual."

"The whipped cream?" She asked.

"No, you. Your taste. The taste of your skin." He teased.

"God, you're a dork." She drank some more hot chocolate and as soon as she swallowed he kissed her, allowing him to taste the hot chocolate on her lips and she giggled against his lips. "You're so weird, Bain."

"You are simply beautiful, L/n." He hummed.

--

Thirty minutes, later at like, two-thirty in the morning, they were both finally in bed.

"Promise me something?" She asked, laying on his chest.

"Hmm-mmm." He hummed, half-asleep.

"Campbell." She smacked his chest and he propped himself of his elbows to look at her, albeit, slightly sleep blurry-eyed.

"Hmm?" He asked but she didn't answer, he looked at her and saw her biting her lip, nervously. He sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees, "Babe, what is it?"

"Promise me you won't find some girl wherever this competition is going to to take you, someone who's willing to have sex with you..."

Campbell tilted her head up and kissed her before pulling back and looking her dead in the eye and saying, seriously, "One year ago, if someone were to ask me what my perfect dream girl would be, she wouldn't even come close to you." He kissed her gently again and then gave her a goofy smile, "That cheesy enough for you?"

"Yeah, and it was super embarrassing for you." She teased and he pulled her into his chest as they laid back down with him burying his face in the top of her head.

"I'm in this for the long run, Y/n. I promise. Your first time should've be special but it wasn't, I'm willing to wait until you're ready." He whispered. "God, I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too." She said and leaned up and kissed him.

He turned off the light and they drifted to sleep.

--

At the airport, the next afternoon, Eddie was saying goodbye to Francine while Campbell hugged Y/n, repeating how much he loved her and kissing her passionately.

"Call me? Every day. Even if it's the middle of the night for me." She requested.

He laughed, "You bet. I'll tell you about my day. Probably have to get another room from Eddie or else, I'll annoy him. You call me too. If you just want to talk, you call me. Even in the middle of the night."

"Babe, you'll be having a competition. I can't do that. You call me, I'll call you if you're awake. You call me every time you land and I'll look up the time zone differences and call you."

"I'll keep my mobile on me at all times."  He promised and kissed her.

"Campbell, we've got to go." Eddie said, irriatedly.

Campbell groaned, "Bye, babe. I love you." He said and pecked her lips before going with Eddie to board the plane.

“Wait!” Y/n shouted, running at him, he turned and felt her attack him with a hug. "Two years ago, when I was still talking, if you asked me to describe my perfect dream guy, he wouldn't even come close to you either." She said into his ear.

He chuckled, “You stole my line.”

“Campbell!” Eddie shouted.

“IN A MINUTE! I have to go. Love you.” He kissed her again and ran off with Eddie.

[whumpcereal]

whumptober, day fourteen: desperate measures | failed escape | "i'll be right behind you."

part of behavior modification (masterlist here). details jack's "escape" from bill chester, as discussed in this piece.

NOTE: If you read the series, you know that, when he was still a minor, Jack was abused by Bill Chester. I will not write that in detail, nor do I even want to think about getting graphic, but there are lots of implications and creepy vibes in this piece. Please tread carefully--and know that Jack gets himself out.

content warnings for: heavily implied csa, heavily implied noncon, references to noncon drugging, grooming behavior, knife violence, minor blood, suicidal ideation, creepy/intimate whumper, minor whumpee, references to bbu

past snippet, jack's fourteenth birthday

It’s his birthday. 

Jack’s used to it not being a big thing. Like, ever. He’s pretty sure he didn’t even really know when his birthday was until he was six or seven, and even then, it wasn’t because anyone did anything about it. Maybe his teacher would say something at school or, if he was really lucky, there might be, like, a card or a cupcake after supper. 

It’s different at Bill’s. 

Bill won’t be home until later–he’s been gone on business for a couple weeks–but still, Sally makes Jack unwrap a pile of gifts. 

“From both of us, sweetheart,” she says. Her smile is kind of weird. Tight, almost. 

There are a few packs of Pokémon cards, a pair of Nikes, a new hoodie, an iPod. It’s too much, and they both know it. 

Jack knows what the gifts are for. He didn’t when he first came. He’d never had much stuff, and he thought maybe Bill and Sally were making up for it. They didn't even wait for his birthday. He’d come home from school, and there’d be a new game or a basketball or a tee shirt. Jack felt so lucky. They were so nice. But he knows better now. There’s nothing nice about any of this.

“Thanks, Sally,” Jack says. He takes a sip of his milk and stares at the plate of half-eaten cake in front of him. He knows where this is going. He just liked it better when he thought Sally didn’t. 

“You’re very welcome, honey.” Sally’s face doesn’t move, just stays kind of stuck in her too-big, too-tight smile. “Fourteen, huh?” 

“Yeah.”

“I know Bill will want to wish you a happy birthday himself. When he gets home.” 

Jack’s toes curl against the dining room carpet. It’s nice—it still has its padding and gets cleaned regularly and everything. This is a nice place. The nicest place he’s ever lived, really. Better than he deserves. That’s what Bill says, when Jack is being “difficult.” 

I take such good care of you, sweet boy. It’s better than what a boy like you deserves. You should be grateful.

He is grateful, just not for—well, not for everything.

Sally clears her throat. “Did you finish your homework?”

Jack nods. He did not. He hasn’t done his homework in months. He can’t concentrate when he tries. And he’s so tired all the time. But it’s what the teachers expect of a kid like him, and Bill and Sally never check his grades. That’s not what he’s here for.

“That’s good,” Sally says, but she doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s particularly good at all. She doesn’t really look at Jack, she looks around him, staring into the space over his shoulder.

Jack wonders how much she knows. Because she knows something, even if she’s pretending she doesn’t. It probably wasn’t even worth it to threaten to tell her.

He’ll never tell anyone now. He can’t go back to that WRU place. He can’t be like the boy Bill showed him. It would be like this, but worse. 

That boy seemed to like it, what the handler guy was doing to him. Jack can’t imagine liking it. Even when it feels good, it doesn’t feel good. It’s just something he has to get through, and there have been plenty of those somethings in Jack’s fourteen years.

This is maybe the worst, though.

Jack picks at the cake, chipping it into pieces with his fork. He can’t eat anymore tonight. Not if Bill is coming home. 

“Are you full?” Sally asks.

He doesn’t look up. “Mmhmm. It was—it was really good, though. Thanks again.”

“Well, it’s your birthday,” Sally says softly. Like that’s supposed to mean anything.

“Yeah.” Jack’s voice wobbles, just a little, and he flinches when he feels Sally touch his hand.

He looks up, and her eyes are kind of shiny and strange.

“Why don’t you get ready for bed, then?” 

Please don’t make me do this! Jack wants to scream. Don’t let him do it. You’re supposed to keep me safe. Keep me safe. Please.

But he doesn’t scream. He just nods. 

“Yeah. I’ll just—“ he gestures at the mess on the table. It’ll buy him some time—the less time he spends in the dark waiting for Bill, the better. 

“That’s sweet, honey, thank you.”

Jack clears the table slowly. Sally stays in her chair, her pretty fingers clutching her glass of chardonnay. 

Jack wraps up his cake and puts it in the fridge, even though he knows he won’t want anymore after tonight. He rinses the plates and silverware. He dumps the rest of his milk down the drain; it isn’t sitting right. He fills the sink with warm, soapy water, so he can wash the cake stand and the knife. 

The knife. 

Jack looks over his shoulder, but Sally’s still staring out the patio slider.

He turns the knife over in his hands beneath the sudsy surface of the dishwater. This is crazy. He shouldn’t. He doesn’t even know where to—to aim. And what’s he going to do? Kill Sally after he’s done with Bill? He doesn’t want to—shit, he can’t kill anyone. 

But Bill is killing him, slowly but surely. Every time it happens, Jack feels like part of him is breaking off and disappearing forever. He doesn’t want to do it anymore. Pokémon cards and iPods aren’t going to make it any better. 

He softly palms the knife blade. But no, he can’t do that either. He doesn’t think he wants to die. He just doesn’t want to be here anymore. There are other places besides here, even if they don’t look as nice from the outside. It doesn’t matter what things look like from the outside. Jack knows that now.

He wraps the wet knife in a kitchen towel and stuffs it down the front of his jeans.

“Almost done, sweetheart?”

He jumps, even though there’s no reason to. Not yet. 

“Yeah.”

Sally’s behind him now. She’s taller than him, and Jack doesn’t like the way her fake nails press into his skin when she touches his shoulder; he can feel them through his tee-shirt. Like claws. 

She’s never hurt him, and he doesn’t know if Bill hurts her, but—

Shouldn’t she know better? Shouldn’t she help him?

“Here, honey,” she says. “I know there’s been a lot of excitement tonight, and we want you to be well-rested, so I thought—“

Her other hand passes a sleeping pill beneath Jack’s nose.

He’s taken them before. Well, both Bill and Sally have made him take them. It doesn’t really help. There’s no way to sleep through it, no way to really relax. It just makes him easier to control. It makes him seem calmer, too. Like he wants it. Which he doesn’t. But it doesn’t matter.

He pockets the pill. “Thanks. I’ll—after I brush my teeth?” He’ll flush it down the toilet when he gets upstairs.

Sally nods. “Take your things upstairs. Bill will be home soon.”

“Good night.”

“Happy birthday.”

“Yeah.”

He shuffles upstairs, conscious of the way the knife handle digs into his belly. He shoves it beneath his pillow when he gets to his room. But he can still feel it against his skin, even as he changes into his pajamas—blue button-down, because Bill likes to take his time.

He can still feel it when he bends over the bathroom sink, splashing his face with water. When he brushes his teeth. When he drops Sally’s stupid sleeping pill in the toilet.

He can’t do it. He can’t hurt anyone. Not even Bill. 

But why not? 

Jack looks at himself in the mirror. He’s fourteen today, and he looks it. He’s skinny, all angles and bones; there are a few zits on his cheeks; there’s no hair on his upper lip. He’s young, right? It’s weird that he feels so old. It isn’t fair.

He shouldn’t have to do this. He doesn’t want to. Maybe he won’t have to. If he can just—

He tucks himself into bed and stuffs his hand under the pillow, wrapping it around the knife. 

What if he does it? What if he drives the knife into Bill’s balls? What if he misses? What if Bill turns the knife on him? 

It occurs to Jack that every “what if” will get him out of this house. It will get him away from Bill.

He doesn’t know how long it is before he hears Bill’s steps in the hallway. His belly lights up with fear, like it always does. But tonight, there’s an extra edge. He feels like he might be sick.

The door handle clicks down, and Bill lets himself in.

“Happy birthday, sweet boy.”

It’s stupid, but Jack’s eyes fill with tears. It isn’t fair. It isn’t right that this is the only way he can be loved. He’s never done anything to anyone. Why can’t he have what everyone else does? 

Bill’s weight settles on the edge of the bed, and Jack’s grip curls tighter around the knife, even as his hands start to shake. 

Bill leans down and presses a kiss to Jack’s forehead. It would be nice if Jack didn’t know where it will lead, where it always leads. 

“Did you like your presents?”

Jack nods silently. 

“You’re a very lucky boy, aren’t you?”

Jack isn’t lucky. He doesn’t think he ever will be. He shifts his wrist beneath the pillow.

“You know, I still have something very special to give you. I’ve missed you these last few weeks.”

Jack can’t help the tear that slips from his eye. He didn’t miss Bill, and he won’t miss him, not ever, even if what comes next is hard. 

Bill leans down, his face just inches from Jack’s. His breath is cold and warm at once, and Jack can smell the scotch on it. Bill brushes Jack’s wet cheek with his fingertips.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, sweet boy. Daddy’s home, and he’s going to take good care of you.”

It’s a lie. No one’s ever taken good care of Jack. He has to take care of himself.

The knife is in motion before Jack even realizes it. 

“Jack–” 

Jack manages to slip his arm between their bodies, and he shoves the knife into the soft part of Bill’s belly as hard as he can. Bill howls. It’s not a super sharp knife, but still, Jack can’t immediately get it back out again. He’s crying now, but he can’t let the knife handle go; it feels like his fingers are locked around it.

He manages to pry it out, and Bill’s blood flows warm between them. He stares at Jack like he doesn’t understand what’s happened. 

“What the fuck?”

Bill sits up, pawing at the red stain on his stupid white dress shirt. He anchors his other hand on Jack’s knees, trapping him, and then looks back at Jack’s tear-smeared face. 

“What did you do, sweet boy?” 

Jack shakes his head, the knife shaking in his hand. This is isn’t–he thought–he doesn’t know what he thought would happen. He strikes out again, but Bill catches his wrist. 

“No!” Jack sobs. Bill squeezes Jack’s wrist until he can’t hold the knife anymore. It drops to Jack’s chest, bouncing like a prop. “No, please, I–” 

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that,” Bill snarls. 

Jack closes his eyes, the wet heat of the knife soaking through his pajama shirt. He knows what comes next. It’s never good when Bill’s angry. It’s never good at all, but–

“What’s going on in here? I heard screaming, and I–” 

Sally. It isn’t the first time she’s heard screaming; it’s only the first time it’s been Bill. 

“Bill? Oh my god, Bill. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, Sally.” Bill stares down at Jack, his eyes cold. “Go back downstairs. I’ll deal with this.”

“You’re hurt!” 

“I’m fine,” Bill says again. He doesn’t take his eyes off Jack. 

Jack could grab for the knife. He could try again. But he doesn’t see the point. 

Sally is beside the bed then, pressing gently against Bill’s wound. He flinches, and finally, no one is looking at Jack. 

“We have to get you to a hospital. This is–oh, Bill. I can’t believe this.” 

“But if anybody finds out–”

“He attacked you!” Sally screeches. “There’s no reason anyone has to know anything else.” She whirls to face Jack, and she’s the one who grabs the knife. “I can’t believe you would do this. After everything we’ve done for you.” 

Bill grunts. “Sally, there’s no–” 

“No,” Sally snaps. She shoves the knife at Jack’s face, and he presses himself as hard as he can into the mattress. Somehow, he knows she won’t hurt him, but it’s not exactly comforting. “You’re done. You’re a conniving little brat, and I won’t have you in my house anymore.” 

Yeah, he’s a conniving little brat. He wanted this. He invited it on himself. Bill tells him those lies all the time. For a while, Jack thought he might believe them, but he knows now they aren’t true. He holds Sally’s gaze without blinking. 

“You’ll come with us to the hospital,” she says, “and then you are turning yourself into the police.” 

Jack lets his breath go. The police. It’s a kind of escape. It’s way better than WRU. 

Bill’s eyes widen. “The publicity–” 

But everyone in the room knows it isn’t the publicity he’s concerned about. For once, Bill Chester isn’t in control. 

Sally keeps the knife trained on Jack. Her hand is shaking too. “He won’t say a word. And even if he did, no one will believe him.” 

Bill nods, his face paling. “Right. You’re right.”

“I’ll get the car warmed up,” Sally says. She sets the knife on Jack’s nightstand, the blood smearing over Jack’s new Pokémon cards. She smooths her perfect hair and looks back at Jack with hard eyes. “Get dressed, but don’t bother taking anything else with you.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack whispers. 

“Bill. Downstairs, now.” 

“Yeah. I’ll be right behind you.” 

Bill stands, squeezing Jack’s thigh as he rises. It doesn’t frighten Jack, not anymore. He’s getting out, after all. 

Even if he’s locked up for years, he’ll never have to see Bill again.

...you guys know that's not true, right?

taglist: @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @sparrowsage, @aut0psy-s, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @no-terms-and-conditions-apply, @darlingwhump, @squishablesunbeam, @dont-be-gentle-please, @deltaxxk, @irishwhiskeygrl, @keep-beach-city-werid, @keeper-of-all-the-random-things, @hold-him-down, @peachy-panic, @whumpyblogthing, @sowhumpful, @considerablecolors, @ramadiiiisme

[minusgangtime]

(Erect MB lore...)

(TW: Implied suicide and death)

(Remember when I said in a fact that Erect MB's feathers weren't always purple and glowing? Yeah... Ó.Ò)

[porlovistoeinmasochist]

[cora0rr3m]

Trans sherwin hurt comfort angst

Ive been feeling stressed out lately and i rlly needed to draw this 😭

why cant i just quit living lmao 😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣⁉️⁉️⁉️

[ollierachnid]

characters im so normal about I'm so norma

[ashintheairlikesnow]

kauri, what would you do now if you still had to go back to wru after everything?

Kauri stares at you. His eyes are incredibly, impossibly blue. Then he looks away. "I wouldn't go back," He says, voice flat. "One way or another, I'd make sure I didn't go back."

[binch-i-might-be]

my hitherto temporary work contract has now become permanent. yaaaay.

[renjunnipeikko]

what would be the straw that breaks the camel’s back for malleus in chapter 7 if you were mc? mine would be that when he tells me his concerns about human mortality i recite to him the poem goodbye, my friend, goodbye by sergei yesenin bc i’m genuinely dumb enough to think that’s both an appropriate thing to do and that it’ll reassure him