#post rescue

[echoingalaxies]

Content: self-punishment/injury, conditioned whumpee, trauma

Whumpee got up before dawn to prepare breakfast. For so long now, it had been their routine, something they'd gotten used to doing no matter their condition, no matter the amount of pain or exhaustion weighing them down. Coffee with two sugars, and three fried eggs, would have to be ready to be served precisely at 6, and Whumpee would carry them to Whumper's room where he would still be sleeping, wake him up, and stand there, head bowed, wait until he finished his meal and then take the dirty dishes to the sink.

The few times Whumpee had missed the 6 am mark, even by a couple of minutes, hadn't ended well. Whumpee ran their fingers over the scars they'd received for those mistakes, wide and raised under their shirt, as they waited for the food to cook. They kept glancing at the clock, anxiously, shivering at the thought of being late, but they also couldn't hurry too much because the punishment for undercooked eggs would be just as cruel.

At 5:58, Whumpee had everything set up, and taking the plate and the large mug of coffee in their hands, they started to head toward the stairs, moving slowly for their aching body. Whumpee had become really good at counting in their head, so they knew they were right on time, as they balanced the mug on the plate for a second to knock on Whumper's door.

They pushed the door open, flicked on the lights - so much brighter than Whumpee remembered... He hadn't changed the lightbulb, so had Whumper had to do it himself? How come hadn't he told Whumpee to do it? - and went next to his bed.

"Your breakfast, sir," they said, trying to sound chipper but gentle, humble and happy to be there. "Good morning, sir," they added quickly after, almost having forgotten the proper way of greeting. What has wrong with them today?

Whumper, usually waking up to their voice and demanding to have the food immediately, just pulled the duvet to his chin, face deep buried into pillows. He grunted something inaudible, and Whumpee was left standing there, unsure what to do.

"S-sir? It's morning, sir, time to rise. Are you feeling ill?"

"Shut up," Whumper growled, and his voice was odd, but Whumpee pressed their lips together tightly, afraid to make a sound. "What the fuck are you doing, it's so damn early..."

The plate and the mug were shaking in Whumpee's hands as they began to breathe heavily, panicking. They'd been on time, but they'd made a mistake. They'd made some kind of mistake. Whumper was upset, and oh, when he'd wake up, hell was awaiting for them...

"Please," Whumpee whispered. "I- I'm so sorry. So sorry, sir..."

After a few mess-ups, Whumper had introduced Whumpee to an alternative option when it came to punishments of slipping off schedule or not completing their tasks just as Whumper had told them to. Quicker, easier, and for Whumper, even more fun than getting to carve marks on Whumpee's skin.

He'd love to watch Whumpee be humiliated.

"I don't want to waste my time on you when I have better things to do," Whumper had once said. "Make it simpler for the both of us. You know when you mess up. Why not get the consequenses out of the way? Use whatever's available, as long as you clean up the blood."

Whumper was still under the covers, perhaps falling back to sleep. Whumpee was still confused by the situation, but it seemed like he should've somehow known to not bother him this morning, oh no, they'd done gravely wrong, and there was only two ways out...

And they'd made their choice which route to take.

Whumpee set the plate on the nightstand, and closed their eyes, when with trembling hands, they took the mug of still steaming coffee above their head and spilled it all over themselves. Even as cried out in agony, they kept reminding themselves whatever Whumper would have done to them would've been worse, and with any luck, this would be enough.

Whumper was once again woken up by Whumpee's cries, and bolted up from the bed like he'd been electrocuted. Whumpee felt a sting in their heart. Of course they'd want to watch. Why would they miss the show? Maybe they'd be unsatisfied with their pain and make Whumpee throw themselves down the stairs for good measure.

Whumper cursed loudly and grabbed Whumpee's arm, pulling them out of the room and to the nearest bathroom. He shoved Whumpee under the shower and turned it on, turning the temperature cold. He squeezed Whumpee's arms, shaking them lightly.

"Oh god, Whumpee, why would you do that? What were you thinking?"

Whumpee coughed, the water getting into their mouth. They shivered, from cold and from fear.

Another mistake.

Nothing made sense.

Why was whumper helping him? What was all of this?

Whumpee tried to pry themselves away from Whumper's grip and out of the shower, but Whumper held them still.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry -"

"Wait," he said, sounding concerned rather than angry now. "Oh shit, Whumpee, no, stop that. Look at me. I'm not him."

Whumpee did as they were told and raised their gaze to meet the eyes they expected to be gray and cruel, and was shocked to see hazel, and nothing but kindness.

"I'm not him," he repeated, and Whumpee blinked a few times, letting their eyes take in the rest of the person's face. "Everything is okay. You're home, remember? Safe."

The person had dark circles under their eyes. They had a friendly face, although right now, they wore a worried expression. Whumpee wiped water from their face to see better... their eyes must've been lying to them...

"I..." Whumpee begun, stammering. "S-sorry... I should've let you sleep... I didn't know... I'm sorry..."

"Whumpee, shh." The person reached to turn off the shower and then let go of them to grab a large, thick towel they spread on Whumpee's shoulders. "Don't, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realise it was you. You shouldn't even be walking! I thought it was Teammate just annoying me, I was barely awake, I didn't mean to be harsh towards you."

Whumpee pulled the towel around them, turning their head to look around. They knew this bathroom. They'd been patched up here many times before, years earlier. It was Caretaker's.

They looked at the person in front of them. They knew them. It was coming to them slowly, but they knew them better than anyone.

"Caretaker?"

They smiled. "Yeah. It's me. It's okay. You've been home for a few days now, remember?"

"I... guess."

Caretaker helped Whumpee out of their wet clothes and let them shower privately, washing the coffee off their hair and ease the pain in the burns on their scalp, their face, their shoulders.

When whumpee was ready, they opened the door to let Caretaker in once again. Caretaker sat them down on a little stool and started to treat their injuries, talking in a calming matter throughout the process. Whumpee was still feeling lost, his brain struggling to understand what was real and what was not.

"I'm still so sorry, Whumpee," Caretaker said, spreading something soothing over his burns. "I never should've allowed things to go so far that you'd do this to yourself."

"I didn't want you to hurt me," Whumpee said quietly. Caretaker stilled for a second, then continued rubbing the lotion on Whumpee's skin. Whumpee bit their cheeks. Caretaker, and everybody else, didn't know much about what he'd been through with Whumper. They hadn't had many opportunities to talk that much yet.

"I would never do that." Caretaker leaned in and pressed an unexpected kiss on Whumpee's forehead. Whumpee blushed, though they were grateful it probably was hidden by their already reddened face. No one had done that for... Whumpee didn't even know how long. "No one will ever hurt you here. And you never have to hurt yourself, okay?"

Whumpee wished they could keep that promise. But who was to say what happened this morning wouldn't happen again?

"Yeah," they said. Caretaker's touch was gentle and comforting, and Whumpee remembered them as a trustworthy person.

Only it all wasn't up to Caretaker.

And it wasn't up to Whumpee. They didn't decide to forget they were not living in that nightmare anymore.

But if things were to be like this, would they ever truly get out?

[abbie-brianna]

Tony off handedly mentioning that Peter is "burning up" Peter flinching and crying, begging not to be burned, swearing that he's not sick, he's not a burden, please don't burn him, please don't get the torch, he's sorry, he'll be good, he can take care of himself, he doesn't need the torch, he doesn't want to be burned, he won't be a bother, he'll-

[withdrawingramen]

cw: implied long-term captivity & torture, loss of identity post captivity, change in the world view

whumpee always thought that in the entirety of the fucked up world, there was some good. someone will sympathize, someone would stand up against wrong, and communities inherently stick with each other, and they'd be a part of the world in some way or the other. but within the duration of all their torture and after being taken out of whumper's grasp, this belief starts to feel more and more alien.

more so when they recall how whumper laughed in their face as they begged to be let go, how whumper's fingers curled in their hair as their half-conscious figure failed to stay awake, and through all the delirium and pain they'd hear every single day; "nobody's coming for you. you'll leave only once i'm bored."

more so when they stare at their clothes churning in the washing machine, when the random stranger in the local laundry noticed them struggling and helped turn the machine on, wondering how such a mundane task required assistance. or when seemingly kind wishes for recovery seem to be forced, attempts at common courtesy disguised as concern. and when they realize they can't remember how to even cook their own favorite recipes anymore, let alone eat without throwing up, or remember how to change the wheels of their bike they cherished so much, or how the tune of that one song went, what their loved ones liked, or how it felt to be a person, they lose a part of themselves they didn't realize they'd been clinging on to.

nothing felt like theirs to choose. whumpee was nothing but remnants of pain, an unfeeling being made of ideals thrust upon them. and it didn't seem to bother those around them. their neighbour down the street still went to work, the university student next door would still blast loud music deep into the night, and whumper would still linger in their head.

and as whumpee gazes at the reflection of their pale, bruised and marred skin in front of the mirror of some random shop, the harsh realization of it all dawns upon them that they were nobody right now, and they didn't know if they even existed before it all. they were nobody without pain. it didn't matter to them, it didn't matter to anyone else. they knew nothing about what it was to be free anymore, and oh, oh does the world truly move on around them regardless

[elisabethrosewrites]

CW: adult Whumpee referred to as "child" by their parental figure, brief wound description, the first time a child-figure calls their Caretaker dad

Caretaker has always been the parental figure for Whumpee. When Whumper takes and tortures Caretaker's precious family, Caretaker nearly loses his mind. Team Leader fights to get Whumpee back for his friend's sake.

When Whumpee is finally rescued, they are badly hurt. Team Leader takes them to the med-bay and new waves of nausea hit him with each new discovered injury. Caretaker comes barreling into the room, shouting for Whumpee. Freezing almost immediately when he catches the sight of all the blood on his child, his child. Medic moves so Caretaker can collapse into the chair at Whumpee's head.

Whumpee's eyes crack open, a groan of pain leaving their lips. "Dad?" The word is barely audible through their cut on swollen lip.

"I'm here, I am right here," he reassures, trying not to acknowledge the fact that this is the first time Whumpee has called him 'dad'. If he stops to think too hard about that, he won't make it through the next few hours and Whumpee needs him.

As Medic cleans and dresses the wounds, Caretaker holds Whumpee's hand, letting Whumpee squeeze as hard as they need to. It is towards the end of the treatment that Medic removes Whumpee's shirt entirely.

There, on their stomach, are the perfectly, horrifically formed letters etched into Whumpee's skin forming the word 'MINE' carved into the tender flesh.

"Oh that motherfucker," Team Leader gasps, unconsciously reaching for Whumpee's calf to rest a steady hand on.

Caretaker is very quiet until the wound is covered once again by clean bandages. "Where is Whumper?" The words are cold and even, the exact opposite of how Caretaker feels.

"Caretaker..." Team Leader starts but Caretaker cuts a sharp look at him.

"He hurt Whumpee, he hurt my child, I am not letting him get away with this. Where is he? I just want five minutes."

Team Leader holds his hands out as if in a surrender position, trying to coax Caretaker down. "Caretaker, you are my oldest friend and I want you to have your revenge, but I know what you can do in five minutes and we still need him alive to find the others."

Caretaker smoothes a hand over Whumpee's hair. They are finally sleeping, if not deeply. "I'll give you a day to get your information, then I'm going in whether you like it or not."

[scrimblobimblowhump]

caretaker gently untying whumpee’s hair post-rescue>>>

[whumperofworlds]

A Whumper who had tortured Whumpee, but Whumpee was rescued/had escaped.

Whumper was enjoying their time alone when they get a message on their phone. They checked their messages, only for their heart to stop.

There was a picture of Whumper's Loved One. They were tied to a chair, beaten and bloodied. There were tears in their eyes, and they were looking at the camera in fear.

Under the picture was a message:

"You hurt me. Now it's my turn to hurt you by hurting them. --Whumpee"

[alidravana]

Fandom: 911

Ship: Tommy/Bucky

Length/Rating: ~1K, Explicit

Tags: Post-Rescue, Adrenaline, Friends With Benefits, Shameless Smut, Semi-Public Sex, Blow Jobs, Grinding, Intimacy, Developing Relationship

Summary:

As Buck, Tommy, and Eddie watched as Bobby and Athena reunited, all the adrenaline from the rescue continued to soar, and Buck could tell that Tommy was interested in doing something about it too, the way his hand trailed along Buck’s arm, tightening briefly on his elbow. All it took was a raised eyebrow, a tug on someone’s shirt, and an unattended bathroom stall, and Buck was pressing Tommy up against the wall, kicking the door shut behind him.

Had to get this out before tonight's episode! Mind the tags, this is a mature, NSFW fic.

Can be read on A03!

[greatgigintheskiess]

With Me

Chapter 3: Obstacles to overcome

CW: (Implied) Child abuse, Physical torture, Lab Whump, Surgery, Vivisection, Broken bones

Word Count: 3.9 k

--

It all felt so real again, so intense. A soft steady stream of tears, lightly audible signs of distress, truncated erratic breathing- all in all under deep steady aches, shooting pain and burning in his muscles. Clenching his fists, a wheezed yelp escaped the boy's throat while leather restraints kept holding him down to cold metal. The care for his body paid off, then. This way, Six' body remained unharmed. He couldn't bruise himself by straining against his bonds, not tear his skin on rough rope or kick or thrash but the scalpels and needles and cold gloved hands digging into his skin could inflict whatever they pleased on the child's body. 

The boy lay there helplessly, with only his mind and voice to use. The rest of his body was sore, piercing pain coming from his calves cutted open, where the doctors were sewing in wood splinters and broken glass stitch by stitch. The needle was pricking into his skin again and again and again, more tormenting from moment to moment. Six' limbs tightened and the sharp splinters and shards dug into his soft flesh, continuing to wear him out hopelessly. 

He wanted to scream, to escape this awful torture so bad but couldn't, as many masked figures were staring down on him, inspecting and guarding every breath of his, holding him tight in addition to the restraints. 

But the child cried nevertheless, throwing the scientists off guard and distracting them from doing their work in silence. Suddenly, the boy felt a warm breath prickling on his left ear as he didn't dare to open his eyes and sobbed slightly under his breath. 

"Six? Remember what I told you about crying during experiments, hm?" A familiar voice breathed softly, which sent shivers down the boy's spine. "You don't want to embarrass me in front of everyone, do you?" 

It was him. The man who took him away. The one responsible for all his pain. Ever since his stay there, that face had haunted Six in his mind, making him feel anxious whenever he just neared. His facade was cold and analytic, yet his voice was soft and charming and he chose his words carefully. 

Six felt his heartbeat quicken in a sudden, pressing out only a few whimpers when the stinging wound was being stitched again. He tried so hard to keep his mouth shut but more tears ran down his cheeks uncontrollably, the forming lump in his throat made it almost impossible to breathe. Six only prayed for it to finally end. 

Please, just stop it now. Please, make it end. Please…

His mind was drifting away more and more until finally, a scream escaped his throat. 

In an instant, Six was snapped back into reality, waking up in drenched sweat as his eyes were widened in fear, glaring into the darkness of the bedroom he was in right now. The boy's head shot up in a sudden and he sat up, his whole body trembling in fright and shock. Six felt his eyes filling up with tears again, the pictures of this horrible nightmare still circling in his mind. 

Although by now, the boy realized it had been just a dream, it still felt so real. Sadly, and that was a fact, the dream wasn't that far from reality, however. Most of Six' nightmares were fragments of his life during captivity and he couldn't remember to ever have pleasant dreams at all. 

The sudden noise of a creaking door startled the child, making his breathing even more erratic. He heard a few heavy steps on the wooden floor and stared at the dark silhouette moving through the room towards the nightstand beside the bed, until a light bulb was snapped on. 

A warm dimmed light emerged in the room. And shortly after his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the light, Six recognized the one coming up to him, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

Don. 

"Are you alright, kid?" The older man frowned, looking in Six' direction. "I heard ya scream." Don sat there in a white loose t-shirt, looking tired, which the boy could tell by some dark rings under his eyes, as it was still in the middle of the night.

An unsettling feeling spread through the boy's body, in fear that he just ripped the man from his sleep.

Why couldn't he just keep quiet for once?! 

Six wheezed quietly, wondering if the man was mad at him. Usually annoyance looked different, telling from the scientists' faces whenever the boy kept crying or tried to resist during and after their experiments in the past. Warning glances and snarls, threatening the child, and punishments to follow afterwards. But Don's facial features were eased, lips slightly pursed, only stoic tired eyes studying the boy with the anticipation to comprehend his behavior. Six was confused. Where was the catch? 

"Bad dream…" The boy replied in a shaky voice, his body still trembling like he was out in the cold on a winter's day, despite here in the room, the temperature was high beyond.

Don watched the frightened child, looking him up and down. He couldn't know what had startled Six so much and he also hesitated asking him about it. The boy sure didn't want to talk about all of his traumatic experiences and Don was also no one to him needing to know that. Anyway, Don was also too tired for a depth talk right now as he felt spacing out, suppressing a yawn. 

"Well, now that it was just a dream," He grunted, laying one hand gently on the child's shoulder. "you can lay down again and close your eyes, boy." 

In his intention to check up on the child, he had been far more concerned than he would've admitted. When Don woke up to a loud scream, he already had imagined the worst, suddenly feeling all over the place. And taking into consideration that he and the kid were the only ones in his house, the man started feeling more unnerved, nonetheless. But seeing that the boy was quite alright and just shrieked in his sleep was somehow relieving to him, in all honesty. 

Looks like his job was done here, right? 

Six drew his legs closer to his body, curling up to a ball again. Don's glance fell onto the little boy who still appeared to be troubled by something. And as if he wasn't even doing it by himself, the man carefully pulled the blanket over the child's upper body up to his chin, tucking him in. The boy felt warmth surrounding his body again and wondered about Don's sudden action that seemed to come out of nowhere. Six didn't remember the last time someone had tucked him in, if ever. 

But before he could even think about that more, the boy's eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. He was so tired but also too scared to fall back asleep that his nightmare would continue. Six tried to stay awake but his body fought so hard against him and it seemed like he was about to lose. Don was right, though. He needed to sleep. His body simply demanded it. 

Just when the warm comforting light expired again and the room was flooded with darkness again, Six heard Don stepping away from the bed. In the man's intention to leave and go back to sleep again, Six tilted his head, sleepily mumbling to the yawning man. 

"Stay. Please..."

Don stopped, taken aback, and turned around to the little boy, who tried so badly to keep his eyes open. At once, he felt surprised and yet couldn't help but wonder about these two muttered words out of the boy's mouth.

So much for shortly checking up on the kid.

Not gonna lie, Don imagined this job to be way more easier. But children are work, indeed. A fact that also Don seemingly understood by now. 

And it was interesting to see how such a small request had caught him off guard so easily. Just when he anticipated making his way back to the couch, on which he'd been sleeping for two days now, Don realized what the boy wanted from him. And for a second, he had thought about retorting. 

He could simply say that he was just too tired for this and that wouldn't even be a lie. 

But somehow he just didn't have the heart to deny Six' wish, whether it was for his empathy and after all the child has been gone through or just because somewhere deep deep down in Don's mind, he remembered such a scene from his own childhood. 

Though the only difference was that his father didn't stay. Said he's old enough to sleep alone. And then slammed the door. 

Stupid sentiments.

So without further ado, Don discarded his thought again and went about the child's request, coming back to him. 

"Fine." He responded, sitting down on the bed and pulling his feet out of the slippers he had put on. "Scoot over then. I ain't that thin like you anymore, boy." 

Don lay down beside the child, making a bit of space for him on the bed. His glance fell on the little kid nuzzling into the blanket which almost belonged to him as it was something like his very own comfort item. Don looked up and stared to the ceiling for a while, motionless, until he felt something or someone near his body. He lowered his gaze and saw how the child had snuggled to his side, sleeping so peacefully and calm. The man hesitated, watching the boy's slow rise and falls of his chest, hearing his soft breaths. And something about this scene made his heart skip a beat. 

Hesitantly, Don laid one arm around the tiny body, pulling the child a little bit closer, not even fully understanding why. What is he even doing here? He should be sleeping in the living room, on his couch, for heaven's sake. He had sworn to himself to keep his distance from things like such, trying to not get too attached to this child, yet he's doing the exact opposite now. And before he might even know it, Don was getting caught up in something. He looked down on the boy with a sigh, guarding his sleep for a while, until he himself fell into a deep doze. 

"I never would've thought I'd hear from you again, Don! You're starting to become more and more of a hick, you know? No one ever sees you in town, you're always off somewhere but here." A familiar voice called through the turntable telephone standing on Don's kitchen counter.

The woman, which the voice belonged to, was speaking in a witty manner, pointing out his lack of social interactions all the way. Seeing by this, Don has never been a social butterfly and Barb was by far the only person in town he had anything to do with at all. And he also wanted to keep it that way. Because the last thing he needed was another distraction, to put it in harsh words.

During the call, Don already thought about what to do when Barb wasn't ready to help him. Where could he possibly go? He just couldn't leave the kid like that, with a serious injury. Don needed Barb's help, that's for sure. She might be the only chance for the boy to ever walk again in his life. And although the kid tried to hide it so badly, Don could see him being in pain, which hurt the man more than he’d like to admit. 

So after a long talk and lots of persuasion, Barb eventually agreed to come over and take a look at the boy while Don could feel a bit of hope spreading through his body. Hope that the child's wound would soon be treated and he could let him go again. Then, he would also take the boy to the local police station, explain the case and let them deal with the rest, so Don wouldn't get in trouble for any of this. 

Sounds like a plan, right? 

Yeah, the man thought but somehow there was still a little voice in his mind telling him it didn't feel right. Looking at this from the sober side though, that's the only reasonable solution for his little problem.

While waiting until Barb would arrive, Don was greeted by emerald sleepy eyes glaring at him, as he woke up the boy by gently shaking his shoulders. 

"Six... wake up." He mumbled softly to the child who was stirring and stretching in the bed. "Hey, good mornin', boy." 

Don was surprised when the kid didn't recoil away immediately when he saw his face. The boy appeared much calmer towards him than in the first few days and slowly started trusting Don that he even let him sleep in his bed last night. 

Six sat up in bed when Don brought him something to eat. His ration for today, he thought to himself as he was already starving. It had been so weird when the man gave him some food yesterday evening too.

Usually, he never got that much ration for one day, the boy wondered. 

When he had been there, sometimes the child wouldn't get food for days, either as punishment or because they needed him with a sober stomach for any experiments. He had been so hungry then, desperately awaiting the day where they finally gave him something to eat again.

"There you go, breakfast." The man said, smiling warmly to Six when he handed the boy a plate. "Pancakes." 

With that, Don stopped his train of thought and Six raised his head to the man's explanation. Then, he started eating and it tasted... awesome. Everything the man had given to him by far was so tasty and delicious, compared to the stuff he'd been fed before. 

"How is it?" Don asked as he watched him eagerly eating from the side of the bed.

"I... like that very much." The boy answered shyly.

Only now he realized how tired and hungry he actually had been before. The days after his escape had been so exhausting, when Six didn't know where to go and aimlessly strayed through the deep woods without any food or water or a place to sleep.

Well, until he had stepped into Don's bear trap…

"Good to hear." The man chuckled as he seemed to content the child with what he had made for him this morning. 

Still, he was so surprised how avidly the boy accepted all the food he had given him as if he was eating it all for the last time ever. Don eyed the child for a while, wondering how he might react when in merely an hour the town's doctor would be here. When they first met, Don promised the boy to avoid anything having to do with hospitals and doctors and medical stuff, yet he seemed to break this promise.

And it feels like betrayal too. 

Betraying the child which finally has grown some trust in him. And he knew today this trust would be put to the test. 

On the other hand, there was no other option than this. And Don wasn't someone who made rash decisions, no, he did think through this a lot. However, he never thought he would be so troubled by something like this and the more time eventually passed by, the more Don started feeling uneasy. He took the now empty plate out of the boy's hands and handed him a glass of water afterwards. Six drew it to his lips, drinking all out. Judging by his facial expression, the water probably tasted weird but he also didn't need to know that Don put a crushed pain reliever in it. This way, the medicine still helped with the pain from his leg but he didn't have to force the boy to take a pill.

Don casted a quick glance at the clock. Almost 11 am. Barb would be here every minute. The man drew in a sharp breath and brought the dishes to the kitchen sink. Through the small window he already saw a blue Chevy parking in his driveway. 

Six didn't know how long Don was gone but he was glad when the man came back to him. Somehow the boy started feeling safe whenever he was around, probably because of how secure Don was holding him in his arms last night. The boy wouldn't deny it, he was seeking so long for this kind of feeling that flooded his body with warmth. And he didn't want to be left all alone anymore, he wished to finally have someone. 

And with Don, he wasn't feeling alone. 

"Hey kid, uh…" Don stammered nervously, entering the room. But there the boy recognized something that was freezing the blood in his veins immediately. Don didn't come back alone. "Look, I brought someone with me." 

A middle-aged woman with short ginger hair and light pink shirt stood in the doorframe. "That's Barb." Don introduced her to the child. "She's a good friend of mine. She won't hurt you." 

Six froze at the sight of the woman and his smile vanished almost immediately.

"Hi, how are ya, sweetie?" She smiled friendly at him and approached the bed as carefully as possible but Six frowned, all color drained out of his face.

Who is she? Why did Don bring her? The boy stared at the woman with widened eyes, wishing for her to turn around and leave again. He didn't want someone else near him! But Don already sat down on the edge of the bed, with her in tow, and Six couldn't do anything else than huddle as far away as possible where his back met the wall. And right now, he just wished to disappear in it. 

"Barb here is an," Don paused, scratching the back of his head. "uhm... expert for healing." The boy knew that he just wanted to ease the situation and calm him down by this but Six already understood what the man actually wanted to say.

"D-doctor?" The child struggled to speak it out loud. His voice quivered, making him cringe. 

No, please… Not again. 

Six saw Don's sad look on his face, in all pity for the child. The man seemed to recognize the utter betrayal in the boy's eyes, all the guilt crushing down as he had to force Six to live through his greatest fears for his own good. Six saw hurt in the man's eyes.

"Well, yeah, I'm-" The woman then answered, causing him to flinch in fear when she neared.

"No!" Six squeaked, almost crying.

He turned away from her, wanted to run away but couldn't with his leg. The child was shivering in fright, he was so scared of what she would do to him now. And Don just would let this happen. No, he didn't want to be bound up and experimented on! Please, anything but that! 

Tears streamed down his cheeks and sobs killed his voice. Suddenly, he felt Don's hands grabbing his face, turning it in his direction. "Six, hey." The man spoke softly. "Six, look at me." His grip was gentle, yet unyielding and the boy closed his teary eyes, finally stopped struggling. 

"No one will hurt you, 'kay?" Don assured, still holding his face, a thumb brushing over the child's cheek. "We just want to help you, I'm with you all the time." 

Did he mean it? Six didn't know if he could trust anyone right now. Everyone just wants to hurt him, right? They are all the same, aren’t they? But then there's Don who's been treating him so nicely like nobody else before. And now he was holding him so close again, even comforting and speaking well to the boy. Maybe Don was telling the truth. Maybe they really just wanted to help him.

Six soon felt the man's grip ease and he looked terrified to the ginger woman, who also sat down beside Don, pity and sympathy spread over her face. "Don't be scared, sweetheart." She said with a soft voice."I just wanna take a look at your leg, is that okay?" 

No, not okay, Six thought. Don is the only one who is allowed to touch him! But the woman grabbed his ankle nonetheless. No, he didn't want her to do that! He wanted to break free from her grip, he wanted to yell, thrash, protest- 

But then the boy felt a large hand on his back, stroking up and down so gently. Don, he realized. Almost in an instant Six felt his tensed body ease, relaxing at the soft touch.

"You're doin' great, kid." The man spoke calmly to him.

While the woman, Barb apparently, was carefully unbinding the bandage on the child's foot, inspecting the deep wound with a sharp eye. "Oh my... the ankle bone is broken. The muscle tissue crushed." She noted and her glance fell back to Don. "How did that happen?" 

The latter pursed his lips, a vein popped out of his neck. "He got into one of my bear traps." The man explained, with a hint of guilt creeping over his face. "Disinfected it already and boy's takin' pain relievers." 

Six gulped when he saw Don's afflicted expression. But wasn't it all his fault? If he just would've looked where he was going that night, he wouldn't be here, be such a burden to Don. The man already did so much for him, more than any stranger would even think of and Six? What did he give him in return? Only trouble and worries. 

Barb listened to Don's explanation, her gaze wandering over to the boy. "Oh, you poor thing." She said, giving him a pitiful look. 

But Six only continued staring at her, feeling how his shoulders shuddered. She was so close to him. She could hurt him in so many ways with his wound exposed like that. The boy was so confused when she did nothing of that though. Barb just took another fresh bandage and gently tied it around his ankle. She gave him a sad smile, tenderly brushing her fingers over the boy's leg and covered it with the blanket again. 

"That will take a long time to heal. A devastating fracture like this also requires an operation." She addressed Don after.

"Can't you do it without?" Almost immediately followed. 

If there's at least one medical thing to avoid, then Don would do it. It was already enough for the kid that Barb was here, considering how scared the little one looked. But an operation? That would definitely be too much. However, the man's hopes were crushed when Barb shook her head. 

"No, I'm afraid I can't. That's the only way or else he'll never be able to walk again." 

Don let out a sad sigh, eyeing the child who once again was left completely unasked in all of this. That's not fair. Six shouldn't have to go through that, he didn't deserve any of this. But Don could tell the kid got calmer when he brought Barb to the door eventually. He saw that the boy could finally take a deep breath again.

--

Taglist: @i-eat-worlds @smellofsnoww @pigeonwhumps

[autobot2001]

Can't Eat

@juneofdoom

Day 12 Fainting | Trembling Dehydration

The Whumpee has been safe with their team for a month, but they struggle to realize they're safe. They struggle to realize it's ok to eat. Even water is still considered a luxury to them. The team is struggling to help Whumpee while trying not to cause Whumpee to think they're a group of people working for Whumper or being captured by another group like Whumper. Trying to get Whumpee to leave their room is also a challenge. Even to see the team's psychiatrist. It's hard to keep track of when Whumpee eats or drinks water.

Whumpee ignores the trembling as they get ready to meet the psychiatrist. They still get anxious attending these appointments, but this doesn't cause dizziness. Whumpee ignores this.

As Wgumpee walks down the hall, they feel worse but keep walking to the appointment rather than the medbay. "Hey, are you ok?" someone asks. "I'm f—." The Whumpee falls forward, allowing teammates to catch them and slowly get them onto the floor. Relieved other teammates see what's going on so they don't have to leave Whumpee in the hallway to get the medic. Whumpee wakes before the medic gets to them, but they feel tired and weak. The teammates and medic know what caused Whumpee to faint but worry about how sick Whumpee is. The teammates wait in the waiting room.

Within twenty minutes, the medic confirms the teammates' concerns. Whumpee had gone without food and water for almost two days. It's not life-threatening, but this is a problem they need to figure out how to deal with this problem. "They're getting fluids and nutrients infusions," the medic explains, "and asleep." Within minutes the leader finds out and decides it's time to meet about this. Aware the physiatrist has been trying to help Whumpee.

The psychiatrist isn't sure if inviting Whumpee to eat — whether in their room or not — will help. At this point, the decision is to take the risk Whumpee won't feel safe here or watch them die. Most agree they need to work on getting Whumpee to feel safe so that they can eat and drink water. Aware at first, they'll think they're being told to eat or drink. "What would they think if we only shared their favorite food?" One teammate asks, "wouldn't someone who kidnapped not do this? They'd give their captive crap to eat when allowed to eat." "They have a good point," the psychiatrist agrees. The teammate who suggested the idea goes to make one of Whumpee's favorite dinners.

Whumpee wakes up to the smell of food. Whumper would never have food waiting for them. Still, is this a cruel trick by Whumper? That they'll watch Whumper eat? "Look, I made one of your favorites," teammate smiles, showing Whumpee the food and putting the plate on the table. They poisoned it. whumpee thinks. I'm not safe here. "It's safe, see," teammate takes a bite of the food, "it's ok, you're safe. remember?" Whumpee is still uncertain, but they fear their punishment if they don't eat. The teammate knows this is what Whumpee thinks and will be for a while. Even as they show Whumpee their favorite cookies. This could take months, but this is good as long as they're eating and making progress. The medic thinks, watching Whumpee eat.

[atangledfate]

Her Shinning Knight

@babylonianpirate​

Waiting was, always the hardest part for her. Just that soft silence, that part of being alone and knowing you were safe but, still being terrified. She was safe here on the ship no one could get her. She was given a clean bill of physical health though, mentally she was still a mess. Before she’d always been easy to startle now a slight noise could send her into full Panic mode. Still Aria told her to wait so she did, It gave her time to think about what she had said. Aria was tender, sweet and she didn’t deserve it or she felt like she didn’t. She knew that was just her pessimism but, they had a lot to talk about. Especially after she fucked up---well it had worked out but! that didn’t change that her emotions got out of control again.

Her ears drooped and she stared at that door, staying close to the lamp that gave the room light. 

“ ...Maybe i should just go home, asking this of Aria isn’t fair to her... “ 

[echoingalaxies]

Whumpee and Caretaker have never been very touchy with each other - they're not very close in any way - but one time Whumpee gets really upset about something in front of Caretaker, and Caretaker takes their hand to comfort them.

Whumpee freezes, because they have never touched each other like this before, but the touch is still so distinguishable, and Whumpee doesn't understand how, since this is the first time. Caretaker has a wide scar across their palm, so their hand on theirs feels unique, and somehow, so familiar.

Whumpee racks their brain, trying to remember, to understand why. Then Caretaker squeezes their hand slightly, and that feeling brings up a hazy memory of Whumpee, laying in hospital bed, sick and delirious after rescue. They couldn't really see, they couldn't really speak, only remembering little glimpes that could be days apart.

But there was always someone beside them, Whumpee remembers, and every time they had a moment of clarity, when they tried to move, there was a hand holding their own, a thumb soothingly caressing the back of their hand.

They had assumed it had been the Medic, since they were always present. They hadn't remembered any of it afterwards, when they were getting better.

But now Whumpee was sure who it really had been. They look up at Caretaker, staring at them in confusion.

They didn't know Caretaker would care about them like that. Why were they there holding their hand day and night? And why had they not said anything when Whumpee got back on their feet?

[foxlawed]

“Get out, get out, get out, get out!”

@ofwings-andclaws

fuck, fuck, fuck. shit. fucking shit. no.

when nathan woke this morning, embraced by a pair of arms & a body longer than his own, totally engulfed by the feeling of safety & pure bliss, he did not ...expect to find the face by him he did. or the scent he knew far too well. he... had done it. he'd... messed up. badly.

sleeping with random strangers was one thing, sleeping with oberyn was a whole different matter, but this? he'd sworn to himself it never would happen again. ever. like, not until they were mated & expected to ... produce offspring - as his parents would call it. they definitely weren't mated yet, nor was nathan ready for children. he wasn't even sure if he ever would be.

none of that mattered right now, though, because he had a damn shark wound around him & he really didn't want to move. he didn't want this moment to end, didn't want for his scent to disappear, didn't want for his warmth to leave him, didn't want for him to leave his side again. no. stop it. this wasn't right, it wasn't good.

he shouldn't have got drunk int he first place, but after trenton.... he'd really needed that night out. the bruises weren't even fully gone yet & he'd ... made his next mistake. damnit. patrick was still soundly asleep while nathan fought a war inside, with himself. how could he give in? he'd been so strong. he'd withstood the urge .. for so long.

ten goddamn years.

now he opened a door he wasn't sure could be closed again. his body remembered, as did his mind. why he felt so drawn to the other in the first place, why he fell for him way back - why he thought they were soulmates back in the day. they weren't. they couldn't be. he had to end this before it ... before he couldn't. there was a reason he didn't indulge. it'd be impossible to stop. he wasn't strong enough to walk away again. he couldn't silence his heart again.

no. this ..was a mistake, he had to live with it now, but that didn't mean he had to wallow in self-pity & let the wave take him out. arms were removed from his body & he was not gentle, nor did he take his time. wake up.

“get out, get out, get out, get out!” they couldn't. they shouldn't. it was for the best... he had to end this. extinguish the embers before they became a fire. "you gotta go." nathan crawled out of bed, finding himself naked - duh, obviously & ...smelling of the other. damnit, he shouldn't like this. he shouldn't feel at ease after last night, he shouldn't ... wonder if ... he was making a mistake kicking him out. regret washed over him the second he threw patrick's clothes at him, but.. he still went & fished for his pants & socks, finding his own briefs while at it.

"please, just go." he...couldn't even look at him, once he looked into those beautifully sad puppy eyes, the remnants of his resolve would falter & then he'd invite him back into bed, which... no. god, when did he become so weak?

[mizgnomer]

Trouble in the 1800's - Good Omens

The next time we see them together Crowley asks for holy water. What did they do to the poor dear?

[varggarn]

I played Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky for the first time a little while ago and was reminded of how very wholesome the PMD series is. So here are some completely self-indulgent drawings of my rescue team. Shout-out to anyone else that has played the game with this specific combo!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Dungeon Meshi crew 'leap' into action!

[whumperofworlds]

NOTE: This is a sequel to this!

TWS: implied character deaths, tied up, kidnapping, hostage situations, rescue, guilt, guns, explosions.

_____

Hours crept by, and Whumpee let out a long sigh of boredom. They tugged against the ropes holding them, knowing that they were unable to break free that way. Being kidnapped? Boring. They need to make sure that they get some extra training if they were rescued so this wouldn't happen again.

No. When, Whumpee. When. Not if.

Whumper and their team were trained to the door where Caretaker would eventually walk through. Their attention was away from Whumpee for the time being. Henchman was on the side, sitting in a chair, looking through their phone while guarding Whumpee.

"C'mon," Henchman muttered, to which Whumpee overheard, "show up already. When is that Caretaker gonna come?"

"Caretaker's not coming, you know," Whumpee growled. They had said that already, yes, but they were bored out of their mind. Why not have a bit of fun by mocking Henchman?

Henchman glared at them, teeth gritting. They stood from the chair, nearly throwing their phone on the floor. "Would you shut up, already?! That's the fifth time you said that!"

Whumpee rolled their eyes. "I know. Just wanted to make sure that you understood that this isn't gonna work."

Henchman's glare intensified, but said nothing as they sat back down. Their attention returned to their phone, and Whumpee could hear the sounds of some gaming app from their phone.

Whumpee shook their head and looked to the side. However, their eyes widened, and their mouth hung open when they spotted something. No. Someone.

Caretaker was creeping through the side door, their weapon out and ready. Their eyes met then, and Whumpee fought the urge to cry out their name in joy. They were bait for Caretaker, sure, but they were happy all the same that Caretaker was here.

Caretaker's eyes darted to Henchman, who so far didn't notice them, before giving Whumpee a slight nod.

Whumpee knew what they were planning. And they had to help.

"You'll never get away with this," Whumpee growled, struggling against their bonds as a way to get Henchman's attention away from Caretaker.

Henchman's grip on their phone tightened, before they stood from the chair. Their teeth gritted so hard, it began to hurt, and they were pulling out their weapon as they approached Whumpee.

"I told you to shut up, you little sh--" Henchman yelled, and that was when Caretaker made their move.

They quickly but quietly dashed towards Henchman from behind, placing a hand over their mouth as they dug a dagger deep in their back. Henchman's screams died in their throat as Caretaker quietly placed them on the ground. They smiled at Whumpee before they walked towards them and began working on their bonds.

"You okay?" Caretaker asked, concern laced in their voice as they used their dagger to saw through the ropes.

Whumpee nodded, a smile also on their face. "Yeah... I'll be--CARETAKER!"

Caretaker moved immediately when Whumpee shouted out. They ducked, a bullet flying over their head, barely missing its mark.

Caretaker got back up, gritting their teeth at the realization. They were caught.

"So glad to see you, Caretaker," Whumper taunted, walking out of the shadows. Their gun trained at Caretaker's head, smoke rising from its entrance. Whumper's team held their weapons towards Caretaker; one false move and Caretaker would be done for.

"Wish I could say the same," Caretaker grunted, moving to get in front of Whumpee. They held their dagger in front of them in a protective stance, glaring at Whumper. Whumpee could only watch, still bound, with wide and concerned eyes.

"We knew that you would come, Caretaker," Whumper laughed, advancing towards the two, their gun still pointing at Caretaker. "We figured that using your friend here as bait for you would do the trick!"

"You got me," Caretaker growled, their glare intensifying. "Let Whumpee go! They have nothing to do with this! It's between you and me, Whumper!"

"Caretaker!" Whumpee gasped in shock. Caretaker was going to sacrifice themself for them? No. They wouldn't let that happen. Especially since it was their own damn fault they got kidnapped...

"Oh, but they definitely have everything to do with us, Caretaker," Whumper chuckled, continuing their advancement. "A friend of my enemy is also my enemy. And they deserve to die as well as you!"

"Stop..." Whumpee whispered, their voice quivering and tears building up in their eyes. They couldn't be responsible for Caretaker's death. Not like this.

"Whumper!" One of their team members called.

Caretaker growled, holding their dagger tighter. They would rather die here than let Whumpee get hurt again. Especially by Whumper's hand. They would do everything they could to protect their best friend at all costs.

"Now," Whumper said, their gun up to Caretaker's forehead. The cold steel of the gun made Caretaker shudder as Whumper continued, "Any last wo--"

Whumper stopped, turning their head to face them. They glared in annoyance, their gun still trained on Caretaker. "What?! I'm in the middle of something here!" They yelled.

"I got a signal! No..." The team member's eyes widened, looking down at their phone. Beeps flooded the air as they continued, "Multiple signals! Someone is coming!"

Caretaker smirked, their grip on their dagger loosening somewhat. "I forgot to mention one thing, Whumper."

"And that is...?" Whumper questioned, an eyebrow raised.

"My team is also here."

As if on cue, an explosive--likely a grenade--blew up the door that Whumper's team was once focused on. Many of the members flew from the impact, with some hitting the warehouse walls and falling to the floor, either unconscious or dead.

"DAMMIT!" Whumper cursed, their attention now away from both Caretaker and Whumpee. They rushed forward towards the now burned door, their gun ready to shoot any intruders that would try to enter.

Gunshots rang in both Whumpee and Caretaker's ears as Caretaker freed Whumpee from their bonds with their dagger. Whumpee stood on unsteady feet, rubbing their raw wrists. They didn't have much time to stretch their legs as Caretaker grabbed their wrist.

"C'mon," Caretaker urged, "we gotta get out of here!"

Whumpee didn't protest as they ran behind Caretaker, their hand gripping their wrist so they wouldn't be separated from their friend. Caretaker reached the side door, shoving it open to run for freedom. Outside, a few of their team members were waiting near their getaway truck, with Team Leader calling out orders to their team.

When Team Leader spotted the two, they gestured to them to hurry, to get into the truck before Whumper and company could regroup. Caretaker, with Whumpee hot on their heels, jumped into the back of the truck, where Medic was also in, waiting.

Team Leader then called out to the rest of the team to flee, that they got what they needed. Almost immediately, the other team members rushed forward and entered the truck, with Team Leader entering last in the front. They turned the keys in the ignition, and the truck sputtered gas for a moment. Hitting the gas, Team Leader drove away from the scene, leaving behind an angry Whumper trying to catch them on foot.

They were safe now. Whumpee was safe.

Whumpee didn't realize that their heart was beating so fast, they might have a heart attack. They sighed, relief flooding through them now that everything ended well.

...Except. Not really. The idea of Caretaker nearly getting killed still lingered in their mind. They couldn't stop themself from replaying the scene in their head. Whumper having their gun pointing at Caretaker, Caretaker willing to sacrifice their life to keep Whumpee safe...

And all of it was their fault.

"That was a close call," Caretaker commented, wiping off the sweat from their brow. They turned to face Whumpee, who was so close to them that their thighs were nearly touching. When they saw the tears threatening to fall, Caretaker frowned.

"Sorry that it took so long to find you, Whumpee," Caretaker apologized. "When I got the message, I let the others know about it as soon as possible. I'm sorry you have to go through that..."

"No," Whumpee said, shaking their head. "This... isn't your fault. I'm the one who should be sorry."

"...What?" Caretaker questioned, an eyebrow raised. Why would Whumpee be sorry?

"You almost died because of me, Caretaker," Whumpee began, their voice quivering and the tears finally beginning to fall. "If I wasn't so stupid, none of this would have happened. If I was stronger, paid more attention..."

"Don't, Whumpee," Caretaker began, shaking their head. "Remember our lifelong promise? That we'll always protect each other no matter what?"

Yes. Whumpee did remember that. When they were children, they made the promise to keep each other safe, and that they would save each other.

And Caretaker kept that promise without a thought.

"...I do," Whumpee sniffled with a nod.

Caretaker smiled a comforting smile, taking Whumpee's hand and squeezing it. "You would do the same for me, Whumpee. Remember that, and no more blaming yourself, okay? We're both safe now. There's no need to worry about it anymore."

Whumpee merely nodded, wiping away the tears with their free hand. Yes. Caretaker was right. They were both safe. And everything went well for now. Caretaker kept their childhood promise.

"...Thank you, Caretaker. For saving me." Whumpee whispered, a small smile on their face.

"Of course. Anything to keep my best friend safe."