#whump aspects

[kittykatninja321]

Listen I am not opposed to a little bit of babygirlifying my favorite blorbo but when you start nerfing their canon skills for the sake of whump or woobifaction is where I draw the line. He would NOT fold that easily in that situation

[stevebabey]

part one. the same cw applies as part one (cw: past sexual coercion is implied) thank u for any & all kind comments <3 hopin to deliver on the angsty hurt/comfort front >:/

“I’m sorry.”

It’s not exactly how he planned to start his whole apology speech but it’s as good a start as any. Steve is glad he says it. Eddie’s entire character softens just a bit hearing it, his shoulders relaxing to sit a little lower, like maybe, he was afraid Steve had come by to argue some more.

For a moment, they stare at each other until Eddie seems to realise he’s blocking the entrance. He jolts just a bit and side steps, beckoning Steve to come inside.

Good start. Steve steps forward and the subsequent rustle from behind his back reminds him of what’s in his hands. He pulls them out from their hiding spot and offers them out with only a marginally awkward cough. “Uh, first, these are for you.”

In his hands are blue hydrangeas, 3 of them, and the bag containing a mixtape and a multitude of Eddie’s favourite candies.

Eddie’s reaction isn’t… quite the usual. He doesn’t swoon or snap up the gifts out of Steve’s hands like Tilly and other girlfriends had. He doesn’t smile either, just eyes then silently. Steve feels a roll of worry tangle up his stomach.

After a moment, Eddie takes them. Steve follows him, taking the trailer stairs two at a time to keep watch on what Eddie will do. It’s a surprise then to watch them get placed to the side, flowers and gift bag dumped down on the Munson’s cluttered dining table. Eddie doesn’t even attempt a peek into the bag, which, well, for Eddie says a lot.

Moving his gaze from their discarded state to Eddie, Steve finds himself pinned down by Eddie’s waiting stare, his arms crossed tight over his chest. He’s waiting for Steve to speak. Right, it’s time to face the music.

Steve chances a quick glance down at the smudged bullet points on his palm. It suddenly feels too wooden for what Steve really wants to say, too constructed, too much what he thought Eddie wanted to hear.

And besides, Eddie hadn’t reacted as expected in the first instance, the forgotten gifts put to the side. Steve shoves his hand deep in his pocket and goes instead with exactly what he’s feeling.

“Okay, um. Look, I didn’t mean what I said. I- I know that was, I— my parents came home that night.”

None of it is coming out right, stammers on every word. Steve curses himself under his breath and wills himself to continue. Knows if it was Eddie apologising it would be poetic and sweet, all the right words in all the right order.

“I’m not— It’s not an excuse,” Steve shakes his head, tries to string together one single coherent fucking sentence. “I’m sorry. Sorry that I didn’t pick you up. And- and I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it. Really, it’s- I don’t think that of you. I’m sorry if I made you think I did.”

Eddie nods, though his clenched jaw gives away he’s not entirely peachy just yet.

“Robin told me about your parents being home. And yeah, it wasn’t cool what you said.” He agrees and Steve’s stomach turns. “But I wasn’t exactly fair either, getting all up in your face about it, so I’m sorry for that.”

Steve blinks, surprised; an apology was the last thing he’d expected to come out of Eddie’s mouth.

“I’m still a bit hurt,” Eddie admits, arms folding across his chest in a defensive motion. Steve hates how he seems to be curling in on himself, so obviously hating to admit aloud that Steve’s words had cut so deep. “But y’know, I know now that you were wound up from your parents being home. So, you’re, like, forgiven I guess.”

...Huh, okay. Usually, forgiveness comes after the grovelling, Steve thinks. Not as easily granted as Eddie is seemingly giving him now.

“Okay, uh,” Steve says warily, not quite sure where to go from here. Eddie isn’t really moving, still standing a bit tense. Waiting for Steve to break the ice.

Steve’s eyes dart to the dining table — the resting hydrangeas and abandoned candy. Steve tries to put two and two together, sure, so sure he’s missing something. It’s never this easy.

Eddie hadn’t acknowledged the flowers, hadn’t wanted the gifts. Steve may be forgiven but he still hasn’t shown Eddie how sorry he is.

Steve steps closer and sinks to his knees.

Eddie’s eyes widen in an instant and he takes half a step back, his hands raising up. It doesn’t feel good to watch Eddie put distance between them. Something curls up in Steve’s stomach.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks. His voice is a bit scratchy and he clears his throat, not moving closer but not moving further away.

Fine. He wants Steve to spell it out. Steve wishes Eddie would just let him apologise in the way he knows — he was hoping Eddie wouldn’t make him drag out his apologies like his father did. But Eddie did love his theatrics so it’s not all that surprising.

“I’m… still apologising?” It’s not meant to come out as a question but half way through the sentence, Steve clocks Eddie’s body language. It’s giving very different vibes than expected. Steve’s confused.

The confusion only hikes up when anger flares in Eddie’s eyes, his jaw tightening just a bit. “You’re—? This isn’t gonna make what you said hurt any less, Steve. Is that what the…”

Eddie trails off, his own gaze tracking over to the dining table. He seems even more ticked off then, fixing his gaze back on to Steve.

“Are you trying to— Did you think you buying me stuff and sucking my dick is some completely fucked way to fast-track an apology?”

Steve feels his own eyes widen, each word twisting his confusion up so tightly it hurts in his chest. Eddie sounds angry.

“No,” Steve insists weakly, because he knows that’s what Eddie wants to hear. Even if that sort of is what he was expecting. He shakes his head, tries to get a read on Eddie’s body language beyond his annoyance. What does he want? “No, I just…”

Eddie’s anger seems to wane a little, seeing the confusion shudder across Steve’s features. Steve suddenly feels incredibly stupid being on his knees— but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say. Maybe Eddie doesn’t want him in this way right now.

“I was,” Steve starts, clearing his throat and willing away his flushed cheeks. “I’m proving it to you.” His voice is a little stronger now, more sure. “I want to prove that I’m sorry.”

Eddie stares at him for a long moment and just when Steve thinks he’ll concede and reach for his belt, he surprises Steve and sinks to his knees too. He sits atop his boots, now face to face with his boyfriend, and reaches out gingerly to place a hand on Steve’s knee.

Steve eyes it for a moment. Is this the come on?

“Steve,” Eddie says gently. It reminds Steve of the tone one might have with an easily spooked animal, all comforting and soothing. “Do you even… want this? To have sex right now?”

It’s a strange question, Steve thinks. He frowns. This blowjob isn’t about him. “I think I’m confused,” He admits, forcing a chuckle to make it a little more casual. Then repeats the sentiment from earlier again. “I want to apologise.”

Eddie nods, harsh enough a curl untucks itself from behind his ear. “Yeah, sweetheart, you already did that. You apologised and I forgave you.”

Eddie doesn’t mention that all these extra things, the gifts and flowers, made him question the genuineness in Steve’s apology at first. Something tells him to dig a little deeper. Steve isn’t smarmy or cocky, he’s not sure that’ll be forgiven, he’s… confused.

But Steve nods. He’s following Eddie’s words so far. Something glitters inside him that he’s already back to sweetheart so soon. He hesitantly lays his own hand atop of Eddie’s, resting them both on his knee. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even know what to say. 

“So, I guess what I’m asking is… what is this?” Eddie waves his hand over Steve’s kneeled form.

The way he says it is still so concerned, which is so far from the usual eagerness Steve has come to know from him normally in these types of situations. Suddenly, knowing Eddie’s definitely not in the mood makes the whole thing a lot more embarrassing now.

“Christ, I wish I had known you wouldn’t want that now,” Steve forces another laugh, quiet, as he ducks his head down. Eddie doesn’t join in, just waits patiently.

“I was— y’know,” Steve waves a hand, gesturing to nothing. “Proving I was sorry. Making it up to you. Guess sex was the wrong idea there, sorry.”

He grimaces a bit, squeezes Eddie’s hand. Steve wonders how he’ll end up making it up to Eddie, if not this way. It’s always been this way.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just stares at Steve with a perturbed expression on his face. If Steve had to guess, he’d say he almost— almost looks a bit sad.

“Stevie,” Eddie says, nudging closer. Both their knees are touching now. “You already apologised. I forgave you.”

He’s repeating things Steve already knows, so Steve nods. Then repeats the thing he’s heard a hundred times over, “Yeah, I know and now I need to prove how sorry I am.”

Eddie’s face crumples a bit, the frown line between his brows deepening. He seems to have hit some understanding, shuffling even closer to Steve. Any annoyance from a minute ago has leaked out of his body. He’s all comfort now, every soft part that Steve adores so much.

“No, you don’t.” Eddie says simply, words strong and sure. “I know that you’re sorry. You said so. That’s proof enough for me, sweetheart.”

Oh. That’s all there is to it, apparently.

Steve’s acutely aware that the emotion streaking through his chest is relief — relief that he doesn’t have to jump through hoops to gain anything back. Doesn’t have to open his mouth or spread his legs just to earn back his partners affections for a heat of the moment mistake.

He said he was sorry and Eddie forgave him. That’s it. That’s all it took. Like an ill-weighted scale, all the relief slides down into a strange hot shame. Oh god, he’s just come in and then— and Eddie hadn’t even— and Steve had thought—

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, that must’ve—“ Steve reels back, the embarrassment from earlier rearing up inside him close to pure mortification. He pulls his hand from Eddie’s grip, all of it suddenly wrong, so so wrong. “I’m sorry, that was so weird of me to offer—“

“Hey, hey, hey, no.” Eddie’s cutting in before Steve gets very far, firmly planting both hands onto Steve’s shoulders to keep him from receding any further. “Don’t apologise for that. That’s… Steve, will you look at me please?”

Nope, a small voice inside him answer, with a quiver. Looking at the trailer floor is so much easier than what Eddie’s asking.

There’s been many times where Steve has felt a bit dumb but this? This feels like a special kind of stupid. The word throbs in his chest painfully as he wonders how he’d got so turned around. He wants to apologise again.

“Stevie?” Eddie says his name again, a soft coo. One of the hands on Steve’s shoulders shifts, hesitating for a moment, before gingerly cradling his jaw. Steve lets Eddie tilt his face up, reluctantly dragging his gaze up to his boyfriend’s face.

Eddie is all sweetness, eyes soft and smile encouraging. It’s his tenderness that makes Steve exhale, a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and he can’t help the way he sags just a bit and leans into Eddie’s hold.

Eddie gives a quiet hum. “No more apologies, okay?”

Steve nods, the motion a bit slow. It sort of feels as though it’s a little harder to move against gravity, like the air is thick molasses. He’s tired. Why is he so tired? He wonders if it’s the mountainous relief that’s still trickling out his body.

“We- we’ll need to talk about that later,” Eddie nods along to his words, voice all tender. The way he says it lets Steve know it’s not a bad thing. “But for now I think I’d just rather hold you. Can I do that?”

How backwards. Steve had come here to apologise, to make it up to Eddie, and now he’s the one being comforted. And yet, his nod comes much easier this time. It’s probably a bit too eager but Steve’s just about drowned in his embarrassment tonight so what’s some more?

Eddie’s hands move and grip Steve’s hands in his lap, giving a comforting squeeze— then waits, doesn’t move until Steve gives another squeeze back.

Then Eddie’s rising, standing up and pulling Steve up with him. It’s quiet, Steve hiding the tiny shake in his hands by squeezing Eddie’s hand so tight he won’t notice — til Eddie’s knees crack, terribly loud in the silence, and he whispers a loud, “Ow, fuck.”

Steve can’t help it, he laughs, the sound bursting out of him. Fuck, his boyfriend is an old man sometimes.

Then Eddie laughs too, that glorious sound that Steve could bottle and get drunk on and then they’re both laughing — and Eddie is tugging Steve into his bedroom, both of them collapsing into the creaky bed. The springs whine under their weight but it goes unheard.

Eddie does his best to bundle Steve in his arms, accidentally sticking his elbow into Steve’s side but it doesn’t even matter. Eddie cuddles are a fuckin’ delicacy as far Steve’s concerned— when he’s happy with the way he’s wrapped himself around Steve, full Koala style, he squeeezes.

It forces a pathetic sounding wheeze out from Steve, quickly spiralling into another laugh because who has ever loved him this way? This well? Between the threads of relief that pluck on his heartstrings is white hot love.

Steve already knows what’s coming next, what is always the second step in Eddie cuddles. Instead of hiding his face away into Eddie’s chest, like he’s done a thousand times before, he sticks his face out. Chin jutted out, face exposed, and ready for kisses.

Eddie doesn’t deny him. It’s a wet smush of quick kisses, on his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids — Eddie lets out little ‘mwahs’ as he goes, in a sickly sweet voice that Steve adores.

Faintly, inside his chest Steve’s heart sighs. Because no apology, no forgiveness, has ever been like this, this simple, this easy. Equal comfort — like Eddie was aware Steve had been suffering on the other end of the silent treatment, at regretting his own words.

Steve silently hopes it’ll always be this way, even though another part deeper down knows it’ll be. That arguments with Eddie might involve childish silent treatment, tongues poked out and boots stamped — but that apologies would never be a test. Never more than an honest admittance of regret in the form of words.

In the way Eddie presses a particularly slimy kiss against his cheek, hard enough it makes Steve’s cheek squish, he thinks he might not have to worry much at all.

tags: @disorganisedbee @estrellami-1 @moonshadows-13 @qubert18 @fxndom-hoe @nelotegreitic @justforthedead89 @avacrebs @yikes-a-bee @just-a-tiny-void @stevesbipanic @penny-lane-bitch @clarakeanen @weeennussy

[fairsweetlonging]

after reading book 1 of svsss i'm imagining some bits and pieces of it into tgcf, like xie lian having qi deviation because of the shackles in a similar way as the poison without a cure (i think it'd be really neat if they also disrupted his meridians and caused qi fluctuations instead of only blocking his powers), but also the specific detail of xie lian having to wear a veil like liu mingyan because he's just too beautiful, giving it extra significance that his mask fell off during the god-pleasing parade and hua cheng saw his face so up-close (besides that, it plays into xie lian not feeling seen).

also, xie lian trying to figure out whether hua cheng has a harem/getting jealous, because surely such a great and powerful ghost king must have a great and extraordinary collection of beauties at his beck and call? (he doesn't)

[krotiation]

"You can't ship rhack, it's toxic!!" Wrong, that's exactly why I ship it

[tashacee]

hero's aspect wild still has mipha's grace, right?

i'm rereading the whole fic and i got to the bit where hyrule is sure he would've killed wild if he'd been there when they first saw him. and i thought-

well ok. what if he did. like they kill wild before sky can tell them what's really happening and everyone is horrified and then he. comes back to life. all's well that ends well! except the trauma i guess

OH MAN

Oh no!

(Oh Yes)

Aspects of a Terrible Mistake

They had messed up. They had messed up beyond messing up. ‘Messed up’ wasn’t even an appropriate word for how badly things had gone wrong.

Legend stared silently as Hyrule, sobbing, tried to pour his Life spell into a corpse. Beside him, Sky was paler than ash, his eyes wide and his lower lip trembling. Only a moment ago he had burst through the brush, panting, and shouted for them to stop, that this wasn’t a monster, it was a hero like them.

It was too late. Hyrule had shot true, his arrow going into one of the hero’s eyes and killing him instantly.

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real. It was a dream, a terrible nightmare, it-

Legend felt like the world was spinning without him. He couldn’t focus. He heard himself saying that he was going to get Time, knew distantly that he was moving through the forest towards their camp, but he was in a daze.

They’d killed a hero.

He didn’t know what he said to Time. He didn’t know what the old man said, just that his eye flew wide and he looked sick. The rest of the heroes - the heroes that hadn’t been part of the group that killed an innocent man - followed him to the river where the corpse was still lying prone and Hyrule was sobbing into his chest.

They eventually decided to give him a decent burial. It was the very least they could do. The new hero, whoever he was, was a big guy but Time could just about carry him back to camp.

They laid him out on a bedroll, as if he was only sleeping. It would take a while to dig a grave and they were determined to do this right, to clean the blood from his face and comb his hair before they buried him. They would take some of his jewellery, maybe his sword and that strange device on his hip so that they could give it to his own people if they ever went to his era.

Hyrule was still trembling as he removed the arrow from his eye and washed his face. Legend had no idea how the traveller, the sweet kind traveller, would ever forgive himself for shooting the killing shot. Legend had just been a part of the group that killed him and he felt wretched.

There was nothing he could think of to say.

Legend turned to see how the grave was getting on, and -

A gasp. The sound of someone stumbling backwards, and a whine.

Legend span around and screamed.

The dead man was no longer dead, and now was looking up at him with two wide, very frightened eyes.

What the f-

-

Link awoke with a gasp, his body aching and his head pounding. He had been dead a moment ago. He had been dead, he had been murdered and -

Oh Hylia, the boy who shot him was right beside him. Wild whined and tried to struggle away, but his limbs were heavy and numb after their temporary death. A few feet away someone screamed, a guy with pink hair who looked like he’d just seen a ghost. Which, yeah kinda.

But what the hell was going on?! He’d died in the river, but now he was in a glade, under a blanket. Were-

Were they planning to bury him? The killing boy looked like he’d been crying, what the hell was going on?!

Voices began to ring out as a group of more boys and men began to crowd around him, all looking shellshocked and disbelieving. Some, he recognised from the hunting party, others he did not. The largest of the group, a tattooed man with one eye, pushed his way through the crowd and knelt at link’s side.

“Everyone, give us some space. Sky, stay with me, help me explain.”

Link whined again, looking up at the tattooed man. Despite his intimidating figure he was looking down at him kindly. Link knew that he probably shouldn’t trust him, but he did.

-

Okay so this was all batshit crazy. According to one-eye - Time, his name was Time - they were all heroes from across time, all called link, and all drawn here by mysterious portals. Sounded like a lot of woo-woo bullshit to Link, but then Time’s friend, Sky, had let him hold his sword. The Master Sword.

Hylia, it was all true.

Call him crazy, but Link - Wild, he was now - didn’t hold a grudge. He’d died before, including by accident or at the hands of people who hadn’t realised it was him and not a monster. It was fine.

Well, it wasn’t fine, but Wild was forgiving and wanted to move on. Wanted to get to know his brothers.

It took a while. Weeks, really. He couldn’t communicate properly, couldn’t explain himself to them. Little by little, though, he broke down barriers between himself and the chain. The ones who hadn’t been in the hunt first, then one by one, the others.

Four. Warriors. Legend. Sky.

And then Hyrule. Much as Wild wanted to move on, it was hard to build a bridge with Hyrule.

He knew why the traveller had done what he did, probably would have done the same in his situation. Honestly, he was even pretty impressed by his shot!

But his subconscious was another matter. He got nervous around the traveller without any real reason, and Hyrule’s guilt was clearly affecting him too.

Then, one day on a hike the traveller had pulled out a bow as he turned to listen for monsters and Wild had jerked away on instinct. The look of shock and guilt and grief he then got from the traveller after that was horrible, and that night he found Hyrule’s bow snapped in half in a ditch.

In the end it was food that united them. Wild had seen Hyrule by the campfire and steeled himself, walking over and plopping down beside him.

Hyrule immediately made to move, to give wild space, but wild stopped him, putting a hand on his wrist. He rumbled softly, and offered his slate.

It took a while to get his meaning across, but eventually Hyrule understood that he was asking for food suggestions. The traveller would never be a great chef, but he could follow instructions and was genuinely excited to help.

It was the first time they had ever actually done something together and… it felt nice. Right. When they were done they had a damn good meal for the chain, and Wild ruffled Hyrule’s hair fondly. The traveller smiled shyly back up at him.

By the time they first made it to Wild’s world, the time Wild had be killed by Hyrule felt like a bad dream.

[siren-of-agony]

The horror of immortal whumpee with superhealing. The horror of not leaving scars. The horror of it's not visible, it's not lasting, so it didn't happen.

You can hurt them and hurt them and hurt them and hurt them and hurt them again.

And everyone just sees clear skin, sees youthfulness. No evidence of suffering remains.

It doesn't look like anything happened to them, so how could they still suffer from it?

Why should others give them empathy, give them care, when there's nothing to care about. Why should they themselves?

Just look at them. Nothing happened.

[thatsgonnaleaveamark]

this or that - whump tropes (48)

[spinjitsuburst]

good. morning.

[whump-in-the-closet]

A Good Day

this has been in my drafts for ages so voila

cw: messed up superhero agency and what happens to those who don't make it through training, minor whump (implied), crying in the backseat of a car, mostly just introductions to the characters, which are two brothers who've adopted this ex-hero-who-ran-from-training and the agency will do anything to get him back, also angst and scarring

____

Today is going to be a good day. 

Teddy digs a hand into the cracked leather of the armrest, picking at the plush inside. He watches the blurring sky from the car window.

He needs it to be a good day. 

On the radio, a song he doesn’t know is playing. The volume is set far too high. It’s blasting a hole through his head and he reaches over to turn it off, but stops when he realizes the teenager in the backseat mouthing along with the words.

If only excitement was infectious.

All Teddy can feel is panic. Today is going to be good. It’s going to be great…going to be good….

He sinks back into the seat, pulling the plush completely out of the armrest. He rips it into smaller and smaller pieces. Finding something to direct his growing anxiety on helps, a little. 

The car slows at a stoplight, and his brother checks on him. “Teddy?” 

Teddy waits, drawing the moment out until the light turns green and Elias has to keep his eyes on the road again. He brushes the last of the plush off his pants. “I'm good?” It comes out all wrong, like a question.

Any confidence he had earlier leaves then and now. Teddy picks the plush up from the floor of the car and starts to tear at it again. He keeps his eyes steadily on the window, watching the buildings fly past. 

Billboards. 

People. 

So many people. 

Elias lowers the music. “You want to do this,” he repeats, confident “You’ve only been talking about it for the past three months.” 

Teddy finds an unshredded piece of plush and rips it with a vicious twist of his fingers. “This was a bad idea...I’m not good enough.” 

Shit.

He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. 

Elias turns the radio off. Click. 

Shit.

“I think you’re good enough,” he says.

Cut out the emotional sap.

But Elias goes on. “The Glenn Symphony won’t even wait until the end of the audition to hire you.” 

“There’s tryouts after the audition too. Another round.” Teddy points out, vindication sharp in his mouth.

Elias lifts a hand off the wheel to wave his brother's concerns aside. “Which you’ll do amazing at. Don’t shake your head at me– Stop– you’re going to blow them away. You’ll go into one of your little trances and you’ll forget there are people even watching.” 

Teddy’s fingers still. “I don’t go into a trance.” He just forgets about everything and everyone around him and it’s just the music– just the music— all around him, until he sees the notes playing under his eyelids….

“You’re going to do great.”

The banter goes on, and on, until the nervousness seeps out of Teddy’s voice. He smiles as the back-and-forth continues. 

In the backseat, the kid laughs brightly, his voice charred and raspy enough to sound burned.

He talks in a slow cadence, testing the words before he says them. “I’m getting deja vu. But,” he points at Teddy and Elias, “the roles were switched.” Dark hair falls into his eyes as he leans forward between the seats. 

 “Yeah, I thought I would be sick at my audition.” Elias pauses for breath, then dives back into the conversation, “And Teddy, told me ‘you’re gonna be fine’. And? You were right.” 

Rufus-- the teenager--jabs Teddy in the shoulder. “Your audition is going to go just as well.” 

Elias turns again. “You tell him, Rufus.”

Teddy sighs. “If you guys say so.” He doesn’t sound convinced. 

He doesn't feel convinced.

He doesn't want to be convinced.

“Good," says Elias, "Because we’re here.”

Teddy’s stomach drops as the car pulls into the parking spot. With the jolt of the stop, Teddy’s stomach drops even further. He freezes over his seatbelt, catching sight of the massive Art Center. 

“Can we go in with you?” 

Teddy wishes his brother could come. But the restrictions said only the applicant could meet the audition committee, so he shakes his head and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“I’ll see you in half an hour?” 

Teddy nods. “Half an hour.” He shuts the car door behind him and stares up at the glass pillars of the entrance. The world seems to spin, for a moment. Unconsciously, he fidgets with his tie and buttons his suit jacket. Then his gaze is pulled to a billboard stationed above the building. 

A girl with a halo of pink hair surveys a depiction of the city from the sky, stars swirling at her feet. Her skin bleeds into the night around her. Her eyes are alight with white flames.

Guardian Angel, they call her.

Protector of cities.

She’s a hero, a legend, a god.

Above her are the words: Savior. The heroes of tomorrow, today. 

Teddy looks away, at the car, as it pulls out of the parking lot.

The Guardian’s eyes don’t leave him until he’s inside. Even then, he can feel them boring into the back of his head. They don’t leave him as he shakes hands with the audition committee. He can still feel them when he wipes his sweaty palms on his pant leg. Only when he sits down at the piano, with the black and white keys shining up at him, do the eyes of flame fade from his memory. 

The half hour goes by in a blur. 

The piece he’s memorized for this audition is his personal favorite. As he plays, all else drains away. He’s not on a stage anymore, he’s back in the apartment, and there’s no one watching him. 

He feels good. 

The nervousness vanishes. 

Stage lights are blinding but the music drowns it out. He’s doing well, he knows it. The piano is deeper than his own and he is able to bring out sounds he could never replicate again. 

He smiles, leaning over the piano, acutely aware of the tension in his hands as he holds a long chord, and playing the melody faster. 

Just a little faster than the four four time required. 

It feels so good. 

Teddy finishes and stands. The committee promises that the callbacks will be within the week, and a few smile. 

He smiles back, fidgeting with his tie. The music is gone, replaced with uncomfortable small talk. Teddy nods, and says thank you so many times, he thinks he’ll be unable to say anything else the rest of the day. He’s saved by a text from Elias and it takes all of his self control to not run from the building. 

Teddy doesn’t look at the billboard, in fact, he does his best to forget it's there. He gets in the car, keeping his back to it. 

Elias pulls down his sunglasses. “The piano man survived!” 

Rufus leans forward, shoving the last bit of an ice cream sandwich into his mouth. “How’d you do?” At least that's what it sounds like. Teddy can’t exactly tell– Rufus’s mouth is completely full. 

Teddy laughs. He can’t help it. It’s over, and he’s out of the auditorium, and as Elias drives forward, the billboard is gone.

Teddy pulls off his tie completely and lets it fall to the floor. “I survived, yeah. I think it went well.” He’s distracted by the assortment of wrappers on the floor. “Did you guys get me any ice cream?” 

Rufus hands him a bar. 

The taste of chocolate and vanilla pushes away the last remnants of the burning eyes.

He leans back in his seat, sunlight playing across the bridge of his nose.

Some of the vanilla trickles over his hand, sticky.

Even stickier when he licks it off. 

It’s melting all over his hand when he hears the sirens. 

Loud and shrill enough to cut through metal. The sun is still bright, but the temperature drops all the same. 

Police cars have surrounded a house set by the road. Their lights flash red and blue and red again, bright enough to blind the whole street. Someone is dragged out of the house, the door hanging slightly off its hinges. 

It’s kicked and the door falls off completely, slamming into the porch. 

Someone is shouting– cursing. Cursing Savior. It’s loud enough to be heard over the sirens.   

Elias’s hands clench over the wheel and in the backseat, Rufus turns to stone, silence creeping up and strangling all three of them. 

“Get in the backseat with Rufus.” Now. Before they see him. 

Teddy says nothing and crawls over as quickly as possible. He moves to sit on the side closest to the window, shielding Rufus with his own profile. 

Elias speeds up. 

Rufus is trembling as Teddy wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. Dark braids shield his eyes but he’s whispering something over and over again. 

Rufus, who had been laughing and joking not a moment before, presses shaking hands together. He buries his face into Teddy’s shirt, and Teddy brushes back his hair, holding him tight. The word Rufus whispers is a plea. 

All it takes is a moment for the day to fall apart. 

One moment.

“Please please please please–” 

They’ve driven past the house, but Rufus continues to tremble. And beg.

The begging is worse than anything.  

Vanilla and chocolate drip over the leather seats. 

Savior. The heroes of tomorrow, today. 

[syncope-syndrome]

Caretaker, touching Whumpee's forehead in concern: Whumpee... you're really hot, are you okay? Whumpee, blushing: You think I'm hot?

[luck-and-clovers]

Treasured One

Would you believe this was too long for AO3? But really wanted to share this cuz I think it's one of the better fics I've written in a while. Enjoy...~

Gladstone tensed at the sound of locks undoing themselves, breaking the silence of the room. He looked up just as the doors opened, and Liu Hai entered the room in a flutter of jade fabric. He carried a silver tray stacked with bowls and cups, and a kettle in the center that still smoked as if fresh from the fire.

Seated at the table, Gladstone quickly ducked his head. He tried to hide his disappointment as the doors shut again, instead putting on a sardonic grin.

“Oh, golly gee, is it lunch time already?” he asked, his voice full of false cheer. Liu Hai returned it with an equally disingenuous grin.

“Not if you keep up that attitude, it isn’t!”

Gladstone dropped the mask with a sigh; it wouldn’t do him any good to piss him off now. Might as well get a meal first, and he could use the tea…

“Fine, whatever…” he muttered, head bowing lower as Liu Hai approached. He received an approving nod as the tray was set down. Gladstone quietly reached for a bread roll, nibbling at it as the demon took a seat across from him.

“I suppose that’s better,” he said, taking the kettle and pouring himself a cup, “though it could include some better manners. Another day, perhaps; tea?”

A cup was placed before him and filled without him needing to answer. He reached for it, still keeping his hunched form, but his eyes shot up when it was moved slightly out of reach. Liu Hai had him fixed with a harsh stare; the smile was gone, and his eyes conveyed agitation. His brow raised, as if he expected something.

Gladstone studied him for a moment, confused, before realization struck; he couldn’t just do as he wanted of course. Liu Hai had his expectations, and he was to live up to them.

His eyes narrowed, and through gritted teeth he said, “Yes please.”

His eyes softened, and he pushed the hot mug back. Gladstone took it with a soft grumble, and made to take a sip—he paused, before adjusting his movement. He held the cup close, making shallow tilts to sip the dark brew as best he could in his awkward hold. Liu Hai eyed him curiously, slowly taking a bowl of rice stacked with beef. He shrugged it off though, taking his share of the bowl before passing it the other’s way.

“So, do I get another exciting trek through the halls today, or do I get to count the cracks in the ceiling again?” Gladstone asked dully. He shoveled the hot food into his mouth, ignoring the slight burn as it went down. He flashed a snide grin.

“Spoiler alert: it’s none.”

Liu Hai snickered, eating at a much calmer pace.

“That depends, are you going to make another fruitless attempt for the main doors?”

Gladstone didn’t answer, but his eyes gave him away; he would, they both knew he would. No matter how many times he failed, he would keep trying. And this determination was why Liu Hai would continue holding him in this room until he was no longer deemed “a flight risk”.

“Dunno why you’re even that mad,” Gladstone grumbled,, “not like I can even get out of the damn building; thanks for that by the way.”

This brought a sneer to the demon’s face, and Gladstone was reluctantly made aware once more of the thick, golden collar locked securely around his neck. Acknowledging it seemed to make it heavier, and his free hand traced it despite himself.

The metal was cool to the touch, and didn’t leave much if any room between it and skin. His finger found the edge, barely able to slip beneath it—

He winced, a hiss slipping out as he jerked his hand away. This fully caught Liu Hai’s attention as he set his plate down, and leaned closer, eyes studying him much more intensely than before. Gladstone shrunk under those harsh eyes, avoiding them as he slowly reached for another roll.

A shudder ran down his spine as Liu Hai stood.

He refused to look up as the demon moved closer, standing so close he could feel the aura radiating off him.

“Gladstone, look at me.”

He didn’t, shoulders hunched around him. His heart was hammering in his chest as a strong hand grabbed his jaw. He fought against the pull, trying to keep his head down.

“Look. At. Me.” Liu Hai growled, his grip tightening. Nails lightly pressed at his skin, and he finally allowed his head to be pulled up with a frustrated grunt.

Angry red lines decorated his neck, tracing along the edges of the shackle. Some were shallow and faint, while others were much deeper. Dark red and scabbed over, and the skin raw from the hours he'd spent clawing at the damned shackle. Long nights where he swore it was tighter, even if reasonably he knew it wasn’t. But it choked him with the reality of his situation. Weighed heavy on his chest that he was stuck here, never getting out, no matter how hard he tried, how loud he screamed, how deep his nails dug.

Squeezing tighter until he could hardly breathe, and he just wanted it off, off, get it off—

 A heavy sigh left Liu Hai as he leaned down to examine the injuries.

“Gladstone, how many times must we do this?”

A faint red tinged Gladstone’s face as his head was tilted back.

“Sooo sorry to inconvenience you.” He muttered, wincing as cool fingers lightly grazed the ugly marks along his throat. His arm twitched, wanting to push the other away; but, he knew better. Or at least, he didn’t have the energy to argue right now.

Liu Hai grumbled under his breath as he willed his chair over, taking a seat. A snap of his fingers summoned a jar on the table, and Gladstone wrinkled his nose at the strong, medicinal odor wafting from it. It was one he was becoming familiar with, unfortunately…

Liu Hai dipped a hand into the elixir, and started applying it to the marks as he clicked his tongue.

“You really must stop with this ridiculous behavior. What are you even hoping to accomplish? Besides wasting my time and healing elixirs, of course.”

Gladstone squirmed in his seat as the hands carefully worked the ointment into his skin. He attempted to pull away, but Liu Hai’s grip was unwavering.

“Well there’s a couple solutions to this,” he ground through his teeth. “You could just NOT waste your time with your smelly magic salve or whatever it is. Spare my nose while you’re at it…”

“Oh, nonsense,” he said, before abruptly pulling him close, holding his jaw tightly, “I can’t have my property walking around damaged, now can I?”

I’m not your property.

The words flew to his mouth, but Gladstone bit them back with a glare. Liu Hai flashed a sly grin, as though waiting for him to let loose. Daring him, even.

Try it, give me a challenge. See what happens.

But he said nothing of the kind, forcing his ire down as he continued.

“Or you could just take the damn thing off. Kinda clashes with the whole aesthetic ya got going on here anyway.”

He indicated the bright jade ensemble he’d been forced into long ago, when he’d first arrived. Days, weeks maybe. He hated them, they weren’t even close to his style, or even his favorite shade of green. They weren’t him at all; but of course, they loudly proclaimed Liu Hai's influence. Even now, the fabric still carried the refreshing smell of rain and chilling mint tea.

Even when he was alone he could still smell the demon; the whole room reeked of him. Smothering, choking, overwhelming—

“Anyone could tell you this much brightness is a bit gaudy, and I am anything but. You’d be doing us both a favor, really.”

The demon only laughed at this, applying another layer of elixir. His movements were slow and methodical, it could be taken as him being thorough; but, one glance at his eyes told another story. They gleamed with a malicious humor, taking in every small quiver and sharp breath as he touched up the deeper cuts.

They both knew how much Gladstone hated this, the feeling of his hands on his skin. The light poke of his nails, the way they traced the veins running beneath…the tenderness he acted with. It felt so…wrong. Made his skin crawl as his hands clenched in his lap.

“Perhaps one day I will be able to remove it; but that all depends on you of course.”

Liu Hai finally sat back, wiping his hands off with a cloth and snapping the elixir away. Gladstone hastily ran hands over his neck, desperately needing the feel of ANYBODY else’s hands on his skin; he only briefly noted the absence of the abrasions. He shot Liu Hai a soured glare.

“Right, me, because I have SO much influence on your decisions; that’s why I’ve had the delightful luxury of having zero say in any of my “accommodations” here!” He threw his hands up, gesturing at the extravagant room. It was pretty, sure, but that’s all it was; a hollow sense of indulgence. A gilded cage, worse than the casino had ever been.

“Oh you’ve had plenty of influence, Gladstone. After all, it was only because you insisted on trying to leap out of every window or doorway you could find that I even had to put that on you in the first place! If you’re so upset about it, then give me reason to reconsider.”

“Please, don’t act like this isn’t some sick power trip for you!”

“Hm, perhaps a bit,” Liu Hai said with a smirk, “but my point stands: if you want the comforts you crave, then you need to help yourself.”

Gladstone’s head shot up at this, anger roaring in his ears.

“Wha— help myself?! Are you kidding me?! You think I’M the problem?!”

He abruptly stood, shoving the chair back with enough force to knock it over. He pointed furiously at him, ignoring the tiny siren in his head that screamed for him to stop. To keep this modicum of peace they had going right now.

“You’re the one who decided to drag me here, and you act like I’m unreasonable for being MAD about it?!”

Liu Hai stood as well, and Gladstone tried not to be intimidated by his towering height over him.

“Do control yourself, Gander, becoming hysterical over nothing won’t help you. If you want a better life here, then you need to earn it!”

“Hysterical— nothi— you kidnapped me! Locked me in this damn room, put this damn collar on me, these stupid clothes…!”

He was pacing now, hands running and gripping his hair furiously, breathing unsteady. Liu Hai watched him with an exasperated frown, like he was dealing with a bratty child, and it wasn’t helping Gladstone’s roiling emotions.

“Oh, you care so much about my “wants”, you wanna know what I want?! I want MY clothes back, I want MY room in MY house, I want this stupid manacle gone— !”

He stormed over to the large glass window that made up the eastern wall of his room. He gestured wildly to the world beyond it. A mystic one so far from his own, nothing but trees and mountains for miles. Even if he COULD leave the palace, he wouldn’t even know where to go.

“I want MY world back, I want my LIFE back, I want my family…!”

His breath hitched; so many faces flashed through his mind. Gramma, Donald, Della, the kids, Fethry— his emotions swelled to a fever pitch, and he whirled around. His fists struck the window as he gave a desperate shout.

“I WANT TO GO HOME!!”

A translucent green barrier rippled across the glass as he made contact, giving a dull thunk. Even if the window hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have gotten past it. He knows, he’d tried…many, many times.

Silence filled the room now as his high faded, leaving him panting against the glass. It wasn’t long before his knees gave out, and he slid to the floor, his arms wrapped around himself.

“Please…” he begged in a quivering whisper.

“Please just let me go.”

He sat in a pitiful, shaking heap, trying to relax his stuttered breathing. And failing, it seemed, as the light prickle of tears seeped through.

Soft footsteps moved toward him, and a moment later, an arm wrapped around his shoulders. The other hand grasped his chin, and forced his reddening eyes to meet brilliant yellow. They held an infuriating sense of pity.

“There, there, xiaobao,” Liu Hai cooed, brushing a thumb against his cheek, “no need to be so upset; soon you’ll realize you can have so much more.”

Gladstone couldn’t string a sentence together just yet; only offer a puzzled stare and stuttered “wh-wha…” before he was shushed.

“You don’t need that ruthless world anymore, or those fools that claim to care. That world that would just as easily toss you away the moment your luck turns away from their favor, the family who barely speaks to you unless they need you for their own benefits.”

Lies, all lies; how is that any different than you?

The question must’ve been evident in his eyes, as Liu Hai smiled, stroking his face again.

“They take what they want and leave you in the lurch; I can give you anything your heart desires, and I ask for so little in return.”

Never mind the fact that the “so little” he wanted tore into his body and soul, leaving him with a spinning head and comatose for hours at a time. Piercing into his core like a hot knife and lapping away at it until his body seemed to burn from the inside out. Left him with a nauseating sense of wrongness that wouldn’t abate. And that didn’t even cover the growing number of scars and divots left behind from the teeth.

But of course, it was all good, because he was pampered and coddled for the rest of his days. That made it all worth it, right?

Liu Hai drew him closer, lips pressed to his ear; he could feel the smile in his voice as he murmured. A shudder ran through him as a nail traced his jawline.

“I can give you such a wonderful life here…if you’d only let me.”

“Stop,” He gasped, finding his voice at last. “Stop acting like…like you care! You don’t, I know you don’t, you just want a meal…!”

A laugh ruffled his hair. Liu Hai then stood, towing Gladstone up with him by the arm, and turned him around to face him.

“I do care quite a lot about you, Gladstone. I even enjoy your antics some days. You are such a fine specimen; a rarity that doesn’t come often. A delicacy to be treasured.”

He leaned closer with every word, and Gladstone found himself pressing back against the barrier. Strong hands cupped his face.

“Which is why I can never let you go.”

He lightly patted his cheek, before finally pulling away. Gladstone fought the tremor in his legs as he watched him head for the doors.

“Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one afternoon,” Liu Hai sighed, and gestured to the table, “feel free to have your fill of what’s left.”

He looked back over his shoulder; his eyes gleamed, and a ravenous grin split his face.

“I’ll stop by this evening for dinner.”

He was gone then, slipping out the doors without another word. Locks slid into place, leaving only deafening silence.

Gladstone stumbled his way to the bed, letting his weak legs finally give as he sank into the plush mattress. His legs drew into his chest tightly, trying to make himself as small as possible. The food was left forgotten on the table, he didn’t have the stomach for anything right now.

It would be hours before Liu Hai returned, but he knew it wouldn’t feel that way. It always seemed he had too much time yet not enough.

Never enough.

The gold band weighed heavy on his neck.

[cozywhump]

“caretaker only using nicknames/pet names to try and soothe whumpee” is great. but i think “caretaker who always uses nicknames/pet names only using whumpee’s real name to try and soothe them” hits just as hard if not harder

[weirdstrangeandawful]

TW: car crash, trauma, spinal cord injury (implied)

A can't help but stare at the impact of the other car into the ditch ahead of them -- the same ditch it had run them off the road into. They tear their eyes away. They need to focus on what's going on in their own car. At least they'd landed the right way up. They look over at B in the passenger seat. Their eyes are clenched shut, every single muscle in their body tensed. Even getting in a car usually has them hyperventilating ever since the wreck they'd survived a few years back.

"B? Injured?" No response. Not unexpected. "I'm coming 'round to your side okay?" Groaning slightly at the painful movement, A extricates themself from the totalled vehicle. Nothing life- or limb-threatening but there are sure going to be some nasty bruises in a day or two. Navigating their way around, they pry open the passenger side door, "B. I know you're terrified. But I need you to answer me. Are you injured?"

It takes a while but B eventually finds a shaky voice, "A- A...? I don't think I can feel my legs.

[whumpshaped]

i love. all powerful whumpers. i know i talk about this a lot but i just really absolutely love when a whumper controls every aspect of whumpee's life. not even as a human, but more as a god. a being so far above whumpee that they genuinely have no chance of fighting back.

maybe whumper literally created whumpee, and is now playing with them like a puppet. and whumpee is forced to bump into the invisible walls of their confined world over and over again, realising again and again that they can only ever go as far as whumper allows.

and maybe... sometimes... whumpee thinks they have outwitted whumper. they find a little loophole, a glitch in the matrix, a tear in the fabric of their artificial reality. they take the opportunity immediately, thinking they're about to be free... only to end up as a pawn in whumper's game yet again. the opening was put there on purpose, specifically for whumpee to find. and where it led was entirely controlled. and whumper enjoyed every second of this delightful little show of whumpee feeling some hope, only for it to be violently ripped away.

again.

[pekoeboo]

"It's okay, Khalan. I'm right here. You're safe."

some Pain based on a few new developments within the SMP story. got a decently long explanation under the cut, for anyone interested.

so @cookieg122 and I decided that Khalan and Aya eventually find themselves in Aya's home dimension - a world ruled by a race of powerful fairies who are hell-bent on eternal conquest and proudly declare their violent Empire as the strongest in the world. Aya was their princess, having disappeared under mysterious circumstances (aka when she arrived in Drehmal), and her older brother had been searching for her ever since.

her sudden return ended up placing Khalan under suspicion though - as Aya's brother wrongly assumed that Khalan was responsible for "kidnapping" Aya and had him arrested as a result;; the corrupt king also got involved, hearing terrible rumors that were quickly circulating about Khalan and believing that he had hurt his daughter, so he made the swift decision to have Khalan publicly tortured and executed the next morning (multiple times over; since Khalan is immortal) as a way to make an example out of him to the Empire's subjects and remind them of what happens if they step out of line and threaten the royal family.

so of course Aya saves him!!!! she convinces her brother that Khalan is innocent so he also helps out with the rescue, and between the two of them they manage to stand up to their dad and save Khalan from a terrible situation ;n;;

there's like. so SO much more to this concept that I can't really explain, but that's roughly what's going on within the feelsy art here;; I kept thinking of just. the intense emotions happening within that moment, of Aya stepping up and taking on the role of comforter even though that's normally Khalan's thing. role reversal tropes always get me, and tbh Khalan just needs a moment to break down and process just how terrifying that whole situation was before he can help Aya deal with everything too;;

srry this got long, I wasn't sure how else to explain this pic without going into some detail. but I hope y'all can appreciate the feels anyway ;o;

Aya Armas belongs to @cookieg122 also on deviantart

[befuddled-calico-whump]

and I start to struggle to hold myself back

from busting my head straight through the fucking glass