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whumpwillow · 24 days ago

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Penumbra: Unushya

previous // Masterlist //

cw: vaguely referenced abuse/fear of abuse

§•§•§

They wintered by the sea.

In the days Tansy spent healing, Cerus regained some of his strength, no longer looking like he was hovering on the verge of death. Warmth and sleep chased away his fever and the worst of his cough, and weeks of good food began to soften the sharp angles of his face and frame. Despite returning to something that almost resembled wellness, some of his injuries lingered, and Tansy knew the journey to the little village of Unushya was to be a slow one.

Winter warmed into spring, and as the weather eased, Tansy and Cerus began their journey southward, leaving behind the cold sea winds and cobblestone of Tansy’s village. Their uncle sent them off with good wishes and plenty of provisions, shaking his head at their decision, though they swore they saw a smile cross his wrinkled face as he bid them goodbye.

It felt almost a relief to be on the road again, to fall into the rhythm of travel. How strange it was, to find a journey into the unfamiliar more familiar than the place they'd so long called home. How strange, to leave their village willingly, seeking a new life instead of fleeing for survival. Strange, and good. Less like the death of something old than the growth of something new.

When they at last reached their destination, the greens of spring had begun their slow crawl across the land. Unushya was small. A few scattered farmhouses surrounded a commons; a chapel and a hall and a handful of shops with a stone square at the very center of it all. Oceans of grain and tall grasses spread out to the east, and a thick treeline sat to the west, what looked to be a mile past the border.

The village was nearly deserted at the hour of their arrival, but a brief exchanging of words with a passerby directed them to Tess, the older woman with whom the council had spoken to directly. Her face was weathered and stony, but her eyes were not unkind, and she looked Cerus over with a gaze that was more appraising than judgemental.

“Not a lotta meat on him, eh? And he's supposed to till an acre?”

Perhaps afraid this would turn ill, Cerus didn't speak, only bowing his head at her words.

“He is to work the fields,” Tansy said carefully. “By order of the council.”

Tess chuckled. “He's got a crooked stance. I'm not all that keen on setting him at a plow.”

They could sense the tension growing in Cerus, and it was difficult to keep his unease from seeping into themselves. But instead of following with some darker suggestion, Tess only shrugged.

“He can work in the chapel gardens. The labor there is a shade gentler.”

Their eyes found Cerus's. His expression was hard to read, but some of the fear seemed to have gone, at least for now.

It was a start.

Tess gave them a brief walkabout of the town, pointing out shops and neighbors, met with friendly greetings at every turn. Some of the strangers—well, Tansy supposed they were the strangers here—fixed them with stares or curious looks, but there seemed to be no hostility. After the rounds had been made, Tess steered them towards the edge of town, where a cottage stood.

It was a worn little building, stone and thatch weathered by storm and sun, but there was a certain charm to it, perhaps greatened by their weeks on the road.

“This should suit the two of you. Might do with some cleaning, but…”

“It's wonderful,” Tansy said, offering her a smile. They'd been uncertain of what may lay ahead on their travels, prepared for meeting the worst. A little home was far from the worst.

“I'll leave you to get settled then,” Tess said, reaching out to clasp Tansy’s hand, returning their smile with a warm one of her own. Then, to their surprise, she turned to Cerus. He flinched back when she reached for his hand, eyes widening as if searching for the woman's intent.

Tess withdrew her arms, clasping her hands together instead. Her smile softened, but did not wane. “We hope you feel welcome at Unushya, Cerus Hollowthorn,” she said, giving a small inclination of her head before turning away and walking back towards the village proper, silhouetted by the falling sun.

Beside them, Cerus let out a shaky breath. “I'd thought she might…”

“I understand.” Tansy'd thought as much too. They might have believed Unushya had been untouched by the war for its people to view Cerus without malice, but they'd witnessed the truth themselves, seen the marks of flame and ash, the fresh repairs and new growth. They'd suffered with the rest of Feyadel. Had something as impersonal as a council decree truly shifted their opinions?

Perhaps that was a part of it. In any case, they should be grateful for the lack of hostility; the careful promise of peace.

“Shall we go in?” They laid a hand on the wooden door, polished and new compared to the rest of the structure, pushing inside as Cerus gave a nod.

The interior was dim, and they propped the door open to allow for more light. Before them was a small common area, furnished with wooden floors and a simple table and chair, a hearth opposite the door with an iron kettle strung over it. A second door past it led to a pair of rooms. Each had a clean straw-stuffed cot that looked to be newly made, woolen blankets folded neatly over each. The smaller of the two was lined with shelves, and may have once been used as a pantry. Cerus took it without prompting.

“Should I leave you alone to rest?” they asked, lingering in his doorway for a moment as he ran a shaking hand over the blanket.

“I… yes. It's been a long day.”

And a new start was overwhelming. Tansy could remember the days after they'd joined the army, keeping still and quiet, afraid of making trouble, uncertain of what to do next. Nearer still, they could recall when they first returned to their home village, surrounded by ghosts of the familiar, feeling like they were walking through a memory with no substance. Both times, they'd fallen into step quick enough, but they'd never faced the uncertainties Cerus was likely poring over. Would the townspeople harm him? Could they be reminded of his reign and turn their backs on him?

“They seem like a good people,” Tansy offered, hoping it would ease his worries. Instead, Cerus’s brow furrowed.

“They are not so forthright as the others,” he answered. “I do not know how long that will last.”

“They were given order not to harm you,” they pressed.

“And since when do orders stand in the way of—” Cerus cut himself off, inhaling sharply. “I cannot trust it. Not yet.”

They understood. Only time would tell. “Don’t forget that I am your protector. I won't see you come to harm.”

Something soft and pained entered Cerus's expression as he looked up at them. “You give me too much.”

Similar conversations had been spoken on their journey here. As always, Tansy only gave him a small smile. “It's a duty I chose, and one I take pride in.”

“I doubt others will see the honor in guarding the shadow king.”

“Ah, but you’re not the shadow king.” Their smile tipped up on one end. “Last I heard, you were a gardener.”

That at least got a muted snort from Cerus, the tiniest pull at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose.”

“Rest. Tomorrow may be another long day.” How strange it was, to give a command to a once-king, yet it had become nearly mundane in their weeks spent together. Tansy pulled Cerus's door closed on their way out, stepping into their own room.

Stranger still was the notion that this was their home now. How long had it been, since they'd considered themselves at home? They were comfortable at their uncle's house, yet they'd always felt like something of a guest or a caretaker. Years, then. This wasn't home yet, but could it be? They looked around the nearly-bare room, imagining where they could put their few possessions, where they might string up a dried bouquet or lay a trinket.

Somewhere to stay, somewhere peaceful. Somewhere new, mending and growing and kind in spite of the war. They could learn to tend a garden here, right alongside Cerus. They could befriend people who didn't remember them as a child or view them as a soldier. Hunt in the woods and explore the surrounding fields. A new beginning.

It wasn't home yet, but Tansy thought it very much could be.

It wasn't home yet, but it felt like a promise.

§•§•§

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#I REALLY APPRECIATE YOU CONTINUING TO TAG ME IN THESE #i was like man i miss whump #no other website has a whump community like this one #anyways this was great and i want more of these two forever and ever i love them #whump #whump writing

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whumpwillow · 3 months ago

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whumpees with facial scars whumpees with facial scars whumpees with facial scars whumpees with facial scars whumpees with facial scars whumpees with facial scars whumpees with facial scars whumpees with facial scars whumpees with facial scars whumpees with facial scars whumpees with

#whump #whump art

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whumpwillow · 4 months ago

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Kane & Jim #57: Indulgence

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery, comfort, starvation, body image issues, fear of torture, whumper turned whumpee

sorry for the long wait! i really do want to write more this year :)

Before Kane could get a single word out, he was tackled.

He just barely managed to keep his balance and stop himself from toppling to the ground as Bellamy’s arms wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him in warm and tight.

“You were dead.” His voice came out squeaky, thick with quick-forming tears. “There was that incident last month, but everyone thought that must have had to have been an impersonator. You’re truly here! Truly!”

“I’m here.” Kane hugged him back, but they only stayed like that a moment before Bellamy pulled back to see his face, still looking quite as though he couldn’t believe Kane were real.

“Where on Earth were you?” he asked, hands still clutching Kane’s arms with the grip of a man who imagined those arms would vanish if he let go.

“It’s a long story.” Kane took a deep breath. “Bellamy, I’ve wanted to say this for a long time. I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I know–”

“Oh, don’t worry about that right now,” Bellamy did free one hand then, requiring it to gesture flippantly and then wipe the tears from his face. “Appreciated, to be sure, but there will be plenty of time for that after more pressing matters. Please, do come in, darling.”

A soft smile grew on Kane’s face. Bellamy wasn’t angry with him, at least. “Thank you. I would love to.”

It was only after he’d crossed the threshold of the doorway that Bellamy dared to let go, though he didn’t let his eyes off Kane for a moment as he made his way to sit on a plush couch in the living room.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, all politeness, though Kane knew exactly what he must look like. What Bellamy must see. Perhaps if Bellamy had seen him months earlier, he would have been unable to maintain such composure.

Not that Kane really minded at all. He was being offered food. “Yes, please.”

Before he knew it–Bellamy having dashed the whole way to the refrigerator and back–there was a pack of cold blood in his hands. “I’m able to warm it up for you, of course, but I do recall that when we were boys, you’d always said the pre-packaged never tastes as good reheated.”

“I don’t mind either way, nowadays.” Truthfully, Bellamy could have tripped and spilled the blood all over the floor and he would have gladly licked it up without much thought. He had before.

He bit into the soft plastic casing and drank. The cool blood was a bit stale, though nowhere approaching spoiled. He wouldn’t have cared if it was. It was delicious nonetheless, and after he’d exhausted what he could suck out through the holes, he tore the packaging apart and licked up every remaining drop clinging to the sides.

“It’s ethically-sourced,” Bellamy commented. “From free, willing, paid humans overseas.”

“It’s really good! Can I have another?” Kane asked before he could stop himself. He’d never been able to indulge before, not since his capture. He was grateful for what Jim had given him, of course. Grateful would be the understatement of the century. But Jim was one human, and he could only give so much at a time.

“Of course!” Bellamy clapped, just once, delighted. And when Bellamy returned, he had two.

Kane downed both, in the same manner as the first. Three meals, just like a human.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Bellamy started slowly, despite that it was very obvious he quite badly wanted to pry. His voice got a touch lower, gentler. “But Kane, my dear. Have you been… eating well?”

Kane crinkled the empty casings, something to do with his hands. He’d really been very proud of the progress he’d made. When he’d first seen himself in Jim’s bathroom mirror, he looked almost like a skeleton, every available bit of fat and muscle his body could spare cannibalized in its attempt to find something to keep him going, until there was nothing left.

He did look better now, after six months of regular meals. He was still far, far skinnier than he was before the hunters, but he had some meat on him now. His cheeks only sunk in a little bit. His collarbone jutted out in a way that just barely bordered ‘passably normal’. You could see the bones of his arms from the inner arm, but not the outer, so as long as he took care to hold his arms just so, no one could tell. Not that he ever really made an effort. His hair didn’t have bald patches anymore, didn’t shed every time he touched it. If he wore layers, which he always did–and not even for that reason–you couldn’t see his ribs. So long as one didn’t look too carefully, he could pass as a regular man.

But Bellamy always looked carefully.

Bellamy didn’t look starved at all. He didn’t have to try not to, of course. His skin was smooth and his face was full. His hair was thick and lucious and styled. He had the figure of a healthy man, one who had food available to him every single day of his life. He only wore one shirt and his abdomen didn’t fall inward from under his ribs like Kane’s did. He smelled like lavender cologne. He practically glowed.

“I… went through a period where I hadn’t been eating very well at all. But as of the past few months, I have,” he answered honestly.

Bellamy sat beside him. “Truth be told, I do mean to pry this time. On account of my increasing worry, you see. Where have you been all this time?”

“Human territory.” Kane looked down at the empty packaging in his hands. The label used the same phrasing Bellamy had–Free, willing humans! “I was captured by vampire hunters when I’d, I’d, ah, hunted f-for a new human. Things were not, um, good there. I wasn’t fed, as you’ve gathered. Then Jim, you remember Jim? He came and got me out. I’ve been living with him for the past seven months. Not owning him!” he clarified hastily, looking up then. “As roommates.”

“I see.” Bellamy’s eyebrows had slowly drawn together in concern more and more the longer Kane had talked. “Well, I’m certainly glad you’re out of there now, dear. I did always like that Jim boy.”

“And I’m sorry,” Kane tried again. “You were right about everything. About humans, about me, about our families, all of it. And I was a bad friend. Even before we parted ways, I always acted like I was better than you. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. I really am sorry.” And then, before he could stop himself: “Do you think we could try again?”

Bellamy smiled. “Well, I really am right about everything,” he mused. “I’ll admit, it’s all true. It took me a time to see as well, that you really were dreadful, though I never imagined I’d hear an apology from you.”

Though Kane had expected worse to start, it still tore a hole in him to hear Bellamy call him dreadful. Even if he knew it was true.

“That said,” Bellamy continued, “We were children. I was never the one bearing the brunt of your wrongs, and you’ve clearly turned over a new leaf. If even Jim has forgiven you, I see no reason not to. Absolutely, we can rekindle a friendship.”

Jim has not forgiven him: he’d made that clear. But he moved forward anyway. Maybe he could do that himself, too.

“I would love that.” Kane let out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding, like a weight had been lifted from him after a century. “Maybe–maybe you could visit sometime. If you want to. I’d have to get permission. Do you ever go to human territory? I mean, you shouldn’t, but if I got permission, Jim’s sister is a hunter, you see, so it should–”

“Oh, yes, the sister! Elizabeth, if I recall? Yes, I’ve spoken with her, though well over a decade ago,” Bellamy cut in. “I do imagine she’s quite pleased to have her brother returned.”

Kane blinked. “You know Liz?”

“Oh, Jim and Caroline had exchanged phone numbers that night we met, you see. Caroline and the young girl had had a few conversations, but the girl had stopped at some point when she’d realized we had no way to affect Jim’s situation. I do not mean to imply I know her, I’d merely answered the phone and handed it off to Caroline a time or two. She’d always sounded frightened when I’d been the one to answer, so I did not linger,” he explained. “My, she must be grown by now. How time flies!”

“Oh. That’s–she never mentioned,” Kane stammered. “Is Caroline still…?”

“Alive and well, I assure you, though she has moved on to greener pastures. She’s found love, you see. She lives with her boyfriend nowadays, though she’s over often enough that my kitchen is still stocked with human food.” Bellamy reached to collect Kane’s empty packages, which he reluctantly released.

“So she’s back in human territory?” he asked.

“No, just across town. Her boyfriend is no human.”

Kane’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Oh my.”

He supposed he shouldn’t be too scandalized by the thought of a human and a vampire together. Humans were people, he knew that now, he’d accepted it long ago. Still, it felt… odd, in a way he could not adequately explain.

Bellamy laughed. “You must get with the times, darling.”

They sat there chatting for hours, and Kane had almost never felt lighter. It was like he was someone else, a version of him he’d never been before, where he was not horrible to anyone and no one had ever been horrible to him. Bellamy didn’t know what happened, not really, and with him, it was like he could forget, too. Just for an evening.

Just until he happened to glance at Bellamy’s clock and notice the time.

He startled out of nowhere. “It’s late,” he gasped. “I’m not–am I going to be able to get home in time?”

“Well, I’m not sure, as I’ve no idea where you live,” Bellamy points out. “Will you?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Kane grabbed Bellamy’s sleeve, terror striking his heart. “Please don’t make me go out there,” he begged. “I can’t–please, Bellamy, please.”

“What?” Bellamy put his hand over Kane’s, though he made no effort to remove his hold. “Of course, dear. You may spend the day if you wish. Why on earth would I force you into the morning?”

It was all crumbling apart. Of course he couldn’t be normal.

“I’m sorry,” Kane squeaked out, tearing up, but before he could say more, he found himself enveloped in a hug.

“It’s alright.” Bellamy held him as he struggled to collect himself. “You needn’t explain. Or you can, if you’re ready, or once you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Kane breathed.

It was silent, then. He didn’t want to explain. Not yet.

When he’d stopped crying–not that long after, by Kane’s standards, to his pride–Bellamy pulled back. “You know, I was wondering… how you’re getting blood? Is it still Jim?”

“Oh, yes,” Kane sniffled. “He’s very generous. But he’s actually just recently stopped, and I’m to provide my own from now on. I was meant to go to my parents and clear my status as deceased, but at the last second I decided to come here.”

“I’m flattered,” Bellamy said haughtily, a hand on his chest. “You’d mentioned my going to visit you. What if I were to bring you blood? The kind you’d ‘sampled’ tonight.”

“You’d really do that?” Kane asked. The idea was beyond tantalizing–he could have all the blood he wanted, and not have to run across human territory, even the part with friendly hunters.

“I do. I would so like a chance to visit human territory without scaring the locals, besides!” Bellamy enthused. “A win for us both!”

The next night, Kane returned home with a bag full of blood packs. For once, he could see a future for himself.

…

He reviewed the grainy VCR footage captured by the security cameras at the de Sang estate. It was the strangest thing: he just ran up to the gate, stood there for a moment, and ran away. And everyone else was ready to write it off as if it had never happened, all hush-hush. The boring lot of them.

Anton smiled. “Well, look who’s not dead.”

taglist in reblogs

#suddenly found myself missing this series #glad there was a chapter I haven't read yet #reading it feels so nostalgic #whump #whump writing #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #recovery whump

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whumpwillow · 5 months ago

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Inevitable (Tower: Day 160)

cw: death wish, beating, drowning, strangulation

previous // Wildefire Masterlist // next

•°•°•

Cheer, beer, clear, dear.

Words rattled around his skull like bleached bones, rough and hollow, fitting together, but not amounting to anything. Turning new rhymes over and over in his head did nothing to quell his growing fear, and even muttering them under his breath only served to remind him where he was; his own words limping back to him in the echo of a room that was too big, too empty. He couldn't get rid of the fear. It was locked around his throat, heavy as the chain Wade had collared him with, keeping him tethered to the wall.

Crush, flush, hush.

Alexei hated this part, hated hated hated. It was part of his life now, a destiny that could be sprung on him at any moment, inevitable, but its inescapability was the furthest thing from comforting. Every time the cell door slammed open, every time the blindfold and power dampeners were layered over him, every time he was dragged into the hallway, breaths shallow and icy, Lex wanted to die a little more. In the quiet anticipation and the not knowing, anything seemed better than another second spent in the Tower. Death would be better, but he hadn't managed to hold onto it in the aftermath of the fight that landed him here, and he hadn't been able to bring himself close since. Death would be better, but he found himself putting off seeking it out, all because of a half-baked what if.

What if things changed? What if he did the impossible?

It was stupid to hope. Painful, even. But like every other fucking part of the Tower, it was inevitable.

Lex couldn't keep himself from flinching as the door opened. A tiny squeak of the hinges, deafening in the silence, and his breath caught, nausea twisting his stomach.

Sky, cry, high, fly, try. There was nothing he could do, there never was, but the memory of who he'd been was still ingrained in his muscle after all these months, body tensing as if to run or fight, sparks popping in his veins, quickly snuffed by the dampeners, chilling his blood. Lex shivered, pressing his temple into the concrete wall, turning his head away from the sound of footsteps as the stranger surveyed him. Towards, an exhale or a sigh. Away, pacing along the wall, browsing the tools the Tower provided, all the implements available to cause him pain.

(Brain, cane, crane, train)

He could recall some of the items in stock. A whip, a baseball bat, a cattle prod. The knowns. They would bring suffering, but couldn't hold a candle to the terror of the unknowns. What else was there? What agony would be inflicted on him today? Would they use tools, or hands, or worse?

There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could do, but his mind was working overtime, like it was analyzing an opponent, looking for weaknesses, striking points.

The stranger was quiet, didn't rush in with blows and curses. Hesitant, or methodical. Lex was chained, not simply turned loose in the locked room. They were cautious, or cruel. He hadn't been drugged. Wade hadn't seen fit to do it, hadn't seen the need… or the Tower’s customer wanted him aware enough to feel fear.

The warring narratives didn't help. He'd faced clumsy blows and precise strikes, anger and curiosity, it all hurt the same, it was all debasing, and the wait before the first hit landed was always agonizing.

His breath caught in his teeth at a slight scraping noise, right where the footsteps paused.

A selection had been made.

Lex's stomach twisted, legs tucking in even tighter, the remnants of his arms tensing until he thought the muscles there would rip themselves apart. He could hardly hear the approach above the blood rushing in his ears, the slight drag of something long and heavy.

(Side, hide, wide, died)

He couldn't focus on the rhymes, no matter how he tried. The words were small, a faraway echo, and his fate was drawing closer. The dragging noise stopped, footsteps ceasing a few feet in front of him.

(True, knew, clue, blue, flew)

A slight squeak, and then a stream of freezing water hit his back. Lex’s body jerked, a gasp shuddering in his throat as his lungs seized up. He fell forward, trying in vain to escape the blast, but the chain around his throat caught him halfway down, the hose following him.

(Try, fly, ff-fuck—)

Words were ripped away from him, icy water turning its focus to his face when his lips tried to move. It was too late to hold his breath by the time he realized it was happening; water in his throat, nose, ears, soaking the blindfold, soaking his hair. Lex fought against the chain, trying to remember his orientation, ignoring the pressure on his throat until he finally managed to turn away, pressing his nose into the concrete wall, choking, wheezing, coughing up water.

(Fuck.)

The onslaught didn't stop, water hitting the back of his head, his neck, his legs. It ran into his face from his hair, blocking his nose, but he could still breathe here, mostly, so he held fast, unable to do anything as he was drenched to the bone.

His breaths were audible when the hose was finally shut off, gasps turned to whimpers, teeth chattering as he trembled, trying to adjust himself to relieve the pressure of the chain around his throat. The flesh there felt bruised.

“Fuck, you're pathetic.”

It was all he heard before a swish through the air, the hose’s heavy nozzle impacting with his shoulder blade. Lex curled in tighter, gritting his teeth around the blow, waiting for the next.

It came.

Accelerating metal collided with his ribs, his pelvis, his spine. Wrapped around to strike his cheekbone, nearly took out a tooth, cracked the bridge of his nose. All he could do was wait for it to end. All he could ever do was wait for it to end.

The beating wasn't the worst he'd taken here. Before the Tower, it hardly would've made him flinch. But he'd lost a lot of muscle mass in the last months, he was weaker than he'd ever been. Every other strike was metal on bone, nothing but a thin layer of skin to absorb the cracking impact that sent a shockwave through him.

He let out a cry when the blows stopped, replaced by the water once more; pressured stream tearing into cuts, chilling the heat of new wounds. The stranger stepped closer, angling the hose around to get in his face, following him when he tried to jerk to the side, laughing when he collapsed under it in his desperation to get away, held up only by the chain around his throat.

Lex tried not to inhale the water, but it was already in his throat, in his lungs, he was choking, he couldn't breathe.

He could die.

Death would come for him eventually here, and the only thing between him and it was endless suffering, so why not let it take him? Not his doing, not his choice; a customer taking things too far, and then it would all be over. He wanted it to be over.

But as the ice squeezed his lungs and silenced his mind, the stream turned away, leaving Lex gasping, struggling to right himself and breathe in spite of his resolve. His body ached, the chill enveloping him, throbbing with his new collection of welts and bruises, dull little stabs covering him like skeletal migraines.

He could hear the stranger moving away from him. Maybe they were done. Maybe they were exchanging tools.

Lex could let himself go boneless while their back was turned. Fall against the chain until it crushed his throat, hope they didn't notice, hope they didn't do anything. A desperate bid to escape the one way he could.

But he didn't. He sat with his forehead pressed into the wall, and he kept breathing.

Because damn it all, as stupid as it was, it was still inevitable to hope.

•°•°•

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday

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#yeah 😌#whump writing #whump

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whumpwillow · 5 months ago

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Thinking about drunk Lex being loved on this horrible and sad day

drunk Lex being loved 😭😭

cw: alcohol, relapse, implied aftermath of beating/whump

Wildefire Masterlist

× × ×

“M’sorry.”

It was all he'd said since coming back. Head on her lap, silent tears soaking into her jeans, whispered apologies.

“It's okay, Lex, it's okay,” Sarah repeated for the eighth time. He’d been late coming back for a mission. Two days late, leaving the rest of them scared and scrambling, asking around, certain he'd been killed or captured. Only for him to show up in the dead of the night, stumbling drunk in a way he hadn't been since September, since he'd suddenly quit cold turkey. Sarah wanted to ask him what happened. He’d left for a security recon, something that should've taken a few hours at most. What had gone wrong? Had he gotten captured? Hurt? It was hard to say. He was still dressed in all his layers, hood up and everything, and she wasn't about to start taking off clothes when he was like this.

She'd never seen him like this.

Sure, she'd seen him cry, she'd seen him drunk, she'd seen him panicking, but this was different. Before, he'd been afraid or angry or paranoid. Always guarded and ready to run. Never just… sad. He'd fallen through the door, practically collapsing in her arms, sobs already shaking his chest by the time they both fell onto the couch.

“What are you sorry for?” Sarah ventured in a soft voice. Maybe that was the best place to start.

“Almost didn't come back,” he replied. “Almost just… just stayed away.”

Was that where he'd been? Back in Neath? Back at Chopper's?

“But then I went and got wasted and… and I wound up back here. Just like always. Sorry.”

Was he… was he apologizing for that? Not for almost leaving forever, but for coming back?

“No, Lex, we want you here. It's okay, I want you here.”

“S’no good. Dangerous.”

It seemed they always came back to this one way or another. That it was dangerous to house him, dangerous to make him part of the team. Someone would come for him eventually, and then they'd all be in trouble. It wasn't an unfounded fear, but everyone here was in the same boat. Everyone was redlined. But Lex remained convinced that he was the one who was cursed, the one who would bring about their downfall.

Especially when he drank.

“We can handle it. We always do.”

He was quieting down some, sniffling and soft gasps in her lap, breaths getting deeper. Time for damage assessment.

Sarah rubbed his back gently as she increased her hearing, listening past inhales that now roared in her ears, past the small hitches that were like gunshots. His heart was beating fast, but was that from pain? Or just the crying? She couldn't hear the click of a broken bone, which was a good sign, but his breaths seemed a little more pained than normal. It seemed like he'd calmed down a little. Might be worth a try to get a look at him.

“Hey, Lex, can I take off your jacket?”

Wounds had been the first thing on her mind when she heard him at the door, but a keen sweep of him hadn't shown her any blood, and he was at least fit to walk all the way back here, so she'd pushed the worry back for a moment. There were bruises on his face, but no worse than he'd come back with in the past, and she knew he didn't like a fuss being made over something so ‘trivial’.

Sarah winced at the sound of his metal fists clenching, quickly dialing back her hearing.

“It's okay. I just want to see if you're hurt, but if you feel fine, we can wait until morning.”

She could hear the choke in his breath, words trying to form and tangling in his throat, small whispered rhymes before he managed to speak to her.

“It's… not bad. Not bad enough. I don't…”

“We can wait.” He was breathing okay, he wasn't bleeding, they could hold off on a proper wound check until he sobered up. Until it was a little less dark.

“Are you comfy?” she asked after a moment, once his breathing had slowed again.

“Mhm.”

“Good.” Would he want to talk about it tomorrow? Where he'd been, what happened? Or would it just be another mystery, a few vague words she hoped she drew the right conclusion on? Sometimes he told her more. Sometimes he didn't want to speak on it at all. It was a hard field to navigate; how much to push, how much to relent. What could be crucial for the safety of the team? What could be crucial for Lex? She'd been playing it by ear for months now, wasn't it inevitable she'd miss a note eventually?

One day at a time.

He was here now, he was safe. He'd come home. Enough for now.

“Sarah?” Her name was a murmur in a hoarse voice.

“Yeah?”

“You'll stay?”

She almost laughed at that. Would she stay. “Yeah,” she replied. “Yeah, I'll be right here with you.”

× × ×

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday

@kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes ,

@fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump , @snakebites-and-ink

#comin on this website exclusively to read this #love them so much #look at them #whump #whump writing

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whumpwillow · 6 months ago

Text

Still

cw: alcoholism, bad coping mechanisms

previous // Wildefire Masterlist //

•°•°•

He held the plastic water bottle in a tight metal fist, not bothering to snap the seal and open it. Spyglass had handed it to him, right after she'd ushered him to the beat-up sofa in the rogues’ living room. Hospitality. It felt like a foreign concept to Alexei these days; a polite garnish that didn't matter to people like Chopper or Uriah, at least not when they were dealing with people like him.

The bottle of vodka was still in his other hand. Spyglass hadn't tried to take it away, and he supposed he was grateful for that. At least he was free to make his own bad choices. Still, he wished he'd thought to sober up before collapsing on their doorstep. Allies or not, the last time he'd been here, he'd woken up without his cybernetics, shut in a room, and yeah they'd fucking saved him, but he hadn't asked them to, he hadn't…

Lex took a shaky breath, eyeing the vodka.

(cry, fly, sigh, why)

No. Steady on.

This time, he was asking them to save him, wasn't he? Or at least asking for help to save himself. He wished the room would stop spinning, he wished his heart would fucking slow down. He was in the company of familiar strangers and maybe that was safer than the streets but was it really safe? (Strafe) He should've sobered up, he needed his head on straight, his wits as sharp as he could get them. If coming here was a mistake (break), if he'd jumped the gun, he had to be able to run, he had to be able to fight them off.

Could he?

(spry, dry, lie)

Could he?

“Hey.”

Lex flinched at the voice, the stinging smell of burning plastic filling his nose as his arms flashed hot, melting away the hospitality bottle. Plastic stuck to his hand in a goo, water puddling on the ground below it. Fuck.

“Whoops.” It was the kid who'd startled him. Firebrand. Spyglass had said something about telling the others he was here, didn't she? His memory was as blurred as his vision. Not good.

He dug a metal knuckle into his cheekbone, willing his head to clear. Firebrand stood on the other side of the room, her head canted to one side.

“You look rough.”

This kid. “I had a long night,” he replied, trying not to let his words slur. He wished he'd left the bottle outside, in an alley, something.

“I didn't think you'd come back.”

“Mhm.”

“Spyglass said you wanna kill Uriah.”

He clenched his jaw, nodding.

“So do I.” Her chin lifted, and his eyes caught on the silver beads twisted into her hair, clinking softly with the motion. They'd been gold before.

“I think we could do it,” the girl said. “You and me. We're strong enough.”

“You don't look like a killer.”

“Could probably kill you if I wanted.”

He was struck by the sudden urge to laugh. Her audacity never ceased to amaze him. With the state he was in, she was probably right, but somehow, the notion didn't fill him with panic. Felt a little more like old times, like banter with other Neath contractors. But unlike them, the kid was face to face with every ugly scar he had and not giving a damn. It was... refreshing.

“How would you do it?” he asked. The weight of the bottle was becoming more noticeable in his hand, but he tried to ignore it. Not in front of the kid.

“Burn down his office while he's stuck inside,” Firebrand said without missing a beat. “All of Titanium, gone.”

“What about the fallout?”

“I'm a fast runner.”

Lex let out a huff that bordered on a chuckle. Maybe she could. Maybe what they really needed was the audacity to act against Corp, to stop being afraid of what could go wrong, to stop thinking of the consequences, of the aftermath, of being hunted down and outnumbered and taken—

“Cinder?”

Alexei clenched his jaw, wrapping both hands around the neck of the vodka bottle, trying to steady himself, steady his breaths. Usually the booze distanced his fears, at least a little. Usually it let him sleep. Tonight… this morning… all it was doing was scrambling around his thoughts, dredging up things he didn't want to remember in front of anyone.

He could see Firebrand taking a seat from the edge of his vision, didn't want to look closer, didn't want to see if she was confused or concerned or disgusted. He kept staring at his hands, dully aware of twisting in his core at the sound of movement to his left.

“Okay, finally got Rosie out of bed. Cinder— ah, shit, let me get you a new bottle.” Spyglass hurried down the stairs, a skinny boy and a pallid blonde girl following behind her. A fresh water bottle was extended towards him, and he took it without much thought, eyeing the newcomers as they took to seats around the room, their own eyes carefully lingering on Lex.

He tried to fight the way his muscles tensed at their arrival; he wouldn't be put on edge so easily, no better than an untrained dog. (slog) He could deal with people, and these people supposedly were on his side. And if anything happened, he could still run. (shun) The sofa seemed pretty flammable. (damnable) That would make an adequate distraction, and the only one with any combative powers was Firebrand, and her powers couldn't hurt him, and—

“Cinder?”

Had Spyglass just said something? He glanced at her, trying to blink her face into focus, trying to sharpen everything.

Her face was open, something… soft about it. Maybe it was the way everything was still a little blurry, maybe it was just too early for her to be on edge.

“I want you to trust us,” Spyglass said after a moment. “So… I think an introduction is in order. A proper one.” She fiddled with her glasses, eyes dropping for a moment before she continued. “So yeah. I'll go first. I'm Sarah.”

He knew. He'd read all their files, after Fox sent him to kill them. He nodded anyway.

“Akeela,” said the kid. “I do fires.”

“Hugo.” Scrawny boy. “Tech stuff. I fixed your arms.”

“Rosie,” said the blonde, not offering anything else. He already knew. Possum. Couldn't die.

Lex swallowed, wishing for the familiar trail of fire down his throat. Four sets of eyes on him were too many. Even before Titanium and Fox and the Tower, it had been ingrained in him to never be the center of attention. Blend in, stick to the shadows. To be noticed is to be in danger of compromising a mission.

“Just Cinder works,” he said. “You all… you know what I do.”

Spyglass—Sarah—didn’t push it, though her smile seemed to tighten at the edges.

“Great. Yeah. Well, Cinder is gonna take the second-story bedroom. I know it'll take some getting used to, but—”

“Isn't that the room that's full of junk?” Rosie piped up, chin in her hand.

“We'll clean it up.” She sighed, turning her gaze to Lex. “Sorry, we just… I wasn't sure you'd come back.”

“It's fine.” He shook his head. A fucking bathtub would be a suitable room if it meant Fox wouldn't find him.

“Yeah, well. That's the team. Do you want me to show you where the room’s at?” She stood as she spoke, keeping a few feet back as she gestured for the staircase.

Yes. Being in here was better than being outside—the feeling of a wall at his back, drawn curtains, locked door between him and any suspicious eyes—but there were still too many strangers surrounding him. Kids or not, he couldn't keep his skin from crawling. He followed her up the stairs, grateful his legs didn't betray him when he stood.

Just like the blonde kid said, the room was full of shit, like whoever'd abandoned the place had used it as a storage room. Sheet-draped furniture cluttered the space, a musty smell sticking to the scattered objects. One small window, covered by a thick curtain. One internal entry point. The door looked flimsy, but he tried to push past that observation. There were allies on the other side, not spies. Maybe he couldn't trust the rogues, not really, but they stood to lose as much as he did if Uriah found them.

“I'm glad you came back,” Spyglass (Sarah) said behind him, and Lex flinched at her voice.

“Shit, sorry.”

“It's fine.” He should've heard her. The fucking booze was dulling his senses. “I had to come back.” Metal fingers clutched at a covered sofa, dropping as the smell of singed fabric hit him. “I meant it,” he said. “Uriah needs to die.”

Spyglass sighed, leaning on the doorframe. “I know.”

“I'll do what you need me to,” he said. “Kill who you need me to kill, fight, anything. But Uriah needs to die.”

She hesitated. He didn't like that. She had to want the same thing, they all did. If Uriah was gone, maybe they could stop fucking hiding, couldn't she see that?

“It's not that easy,” she said at last.

“Why?”

“Killing Fox won’t get the target off your back. It's not just him. It's all of Corp. Taking out one of their CEOs would just throw gasoline on the fire.”

He knew. Corp was rotten, but it wasn't personal for them the way it was for Uriah. “They wouldn't catch me,” he said.

“What about us? You don't think they can track it back, now that you're here?”

“Then I'll leave,” Lex said through clenched teeth. “I don't need your help to take him out.”

“Then why did you come back at all?”

(spall, brawl, crawl)

He couldn't find an answer to that. He could take Uriah out by himself. He didn't need them, he was endangering them just by being here, so why the fuck would he come back at all? Why had he come here instead of storming Titanium, instead of dragging Uriah out of his bed and finishing the job?

Because he didn't have anywhere else to go. Didn't have anyone else he could take a chance on. Because his weeks of so-called freedom had been a blur of booze and violence, a desperate attempt to move so fast his own fear wouldn't catch up to him, an attempt that always failed.

Because he was still scared.

“I can't sleep,” Lex answered.

Sarah's brows lowered, eyes searching his face. “Okay,” she said, her voice soft. Nothing accusing, no pity, just something that almost understood. “Okay,” she said again. “Look, I swear we're working on the problem. We'll figure it out, something, one way or another.”

Working on it how? he wanted to say. Was there anything other than death that would be safe enough? Final enough? But all he said back was, “Okay."

Sarah gave him a tired smile, backtracking for the door.

“Wait and see,” she said. “And while you do, I hope you can sleep.”

•°•°•

tag list:

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise ,

@whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump , @snakebites-and-ink

#this guy is so fucked up actually :)#whump #whump writing

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whumpwillow · 6 months ago

Note

how are lex and sarah spending the holidays?

if you listen really closely you can hear me praying for his first ever safe and enjoyable time

woe, fluff be up on ye

Wildefire Masterlist

•°•°•

"Lighten up. Just a little?"

"I don't see what the point is."

"Come on, it's... I mean, we don't even have to call it Christmas. What did you celebrate growing up?"

Lex couldn't remember any holiday celebrations. Even as a child, his mother didn't care for Christmas, Hanukkah, Yule, nothing. She'd take him along to the old cathedral on New Year's day, thanking her saints for another year survived, offering prayers for luck in the next. Even then, he doubted she believed in what she was saying. Just another tradition handed down from her family. Not one he'd bothered to keep after going to Chopper's.

He must've been staring blankly for a good minute, because Sarah let out a sigh. "You don't have to participate, I just... Figured I'd offer. We didn't really do a Christmas last year, since we were trying to find a safe spot. She'd never admit it, but Akeela was pretty bummed out. Holiday break used to be the only time we got to really hang out and have fun as a team. Even Overk--" She winced. "It's a tradition. For us. And now you're one of us, so..."

Lex shrugged. Maybe it made no sense to waste time on, and maybe it was dumb to take a break instead of focusing on the grueling task of uprooting corp, but... Maybe it wasn't a crime to do something that wasn't life or death.

"What do you want me to do?"

•°•°•

Alexei wasn't so far removed from society to be ignorant to the tradition of ugly sweaters, but it seemed Hugo had gone out of his way to track down the most horrendous ones in the city. He was clearly trying to suppress a giggle as he passed Lex's over, a terrible lime green thing with some cartoon character embroidered across the front in a glittery fuzz.

Akeela snorted when she saw him in it.

"Green is not your color."

"Yeah? Well orange isn't yours. You look like a muppet."

She pulled an offended face, but he could hear her laughing when she turned her back. She settled between Hugo and Rosie on the couch, stealing a handful of popcorn from the latter, a festive children's movie that looked a hundred years old playing on the beat-up television across from them.

Lex begrudgingly took a seat nearby as Sarah came in, a platter of cookies in hand.

"Looks like dinner's just gonna be spaghetti and meatballs, but hey, I'm not complaining," she said, sliding the platter in front of the group. Her so-called ugly sweater looked good on her, in a way. The cotton-candy pink fit her complexion, making her dark hair stand out, her brown eyes warmer. Hugo was definitely picking favorites here, he thought, even as his eyes kept going back to her.

"Are you gonna sit down at all?" he asked when she caught him staring.

"Well, we still got some cookies in the oven, and dinner isn't made yet, so---"

"Did you want help?" Usually everyone was busy with their own task, or out of the house, or in their own rooms. Yet somehow the kitchen was always clean and food was always ready. He knew that was all Sarah's doing, but only now, with everyone relaxing over a movie but her, did it feel wrong.

She let out a small laugh at his question. "I got it covered, unless you wanna play dishwasher."

"I can do that." Probably. He hadn't done that sort of work with cybernetics yet, but it couldn't be that different from cleaning a weapon or a wound. A little delicate, a little deliberate.

She seemed surprised at his offer. "Oh, well... Yeah, that'd be great."

Lex followed her into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves. A pot of water was boiling on the stove, the oven timer beeping as soon as they stepped inside.

"That would be the cookies. Here, I'll---"

He was opening the oven before she could finish, grabbing the hot tray with a metal hand and setting it on the stovetop. Sarah let out a playful huff.

"Show-off."

"One objective complete. Those dishes don't stand a chance."

"Yeah? Step up to the plate and we'll see," she shot back, extending an arm towards the dish pile with a small flourish. Lex stepped past her, a smile tugging at his mouth, and began to fill the sink.

Alright, delicate. Most of their dishes were plastic or metal, but the occasional glass could prove tricky. He didn't want to shatter anything in the sink. Sarah moved behind him, adding noodles to the boiling water and starting a pan of sauce as he set to work.

Big items first. Eliminate clutter, create space for organization. Metal pots are a safe bet for starting; less probability of causing damage as hands are better calibrated to the task.

"You never told me you had a thing for dishes."

Sarah's voice startled him halfway through the task. "Huh?"

"You seem very focused."

"It's something to do."

She smiled. "Well, if you wanna put it on hold for a bit, dinner's done." Three plates were already full and ready, waiting on the counter.

"I'll help you bring it out."

Her smile seemed to grow.

The two of them delivered the spaghetti to the living room, passing a plate to each of the kids before going back for their own.

Okay, so maybe this wasn't so bad. Everyone sitting at home, cheesy feel-good movie, warm food, warm house, it was kind of nice. Even the dumb sweater wasn't so bad when everyone else was part of the joke. Lex spooned sauce over his pasta, moving to rejoin the others.

"Hey."

He paused, glancing back at Sarah. "Yeah?"

She cleared her throat, setting her own plate down. "Well... I'm supposed to wait to give you this until tomorrow. Traditionally speaking and all. But I know you don't like eyes on you, and fuck tradition anyway, so..."

Instinct kept his eyes on her hands as she moved, but there was no tension in his chest, no coiled action waiting to spring as she pulled something out of a kitchen drawer and passed it to him.

It was a book. Leaves of Grass, Walt Whitman.

"Poetry," was all he could say for a moment. It looked old. Its weight was insistent in his hands, sheaves of paper reminding him that he was a thing of fire, destruction. But maybe if he held it carefully enough...

"I just..." Sarah fiddled with her glasses. "I mean, sometimes I'd hear you rhyming to yourself, so... I guess I figured you might like that."

Poetry. Something it seemed he never had time for. Not since the Tower, when made up lines were the only thing tethering his sanity on some days. Back in Neath, he had a few full books--+and a few empty ones too, for crafting his own words. Not often, but they'd been there. Under Fox, there'd been nothing. Sure, he probably could've found something to write with if he'd really wanted, but what would end up on the page, after everything? Were there any words left when he'd been made nothing but a weapon?

But now...

"Thank you," he managed to say, unable to take his eyes off the book, voice thick. "I don't... I didn't get anything for you."

"It's not a trade-off, Lex." Carefully, her hands wrapped around his. He couldn't feel it, that was impossible, but despite all logic, he felt warmer.

"I'm just glad you like it." Her smile turned a shade wryer as she picked up both of their plates. "Now let's get back out there before they start wondering what we're up to."

Not a trade-off. It took him a second to follow her, to make himself move. Fortunately, the others were focused on the movie when he stepped back into the living room, Rosie caught between Hugo and Akeela and and a character comparison.

"That's you."

"I am not the fucking dentist elf."

"You look just like him though."

He took a seat beside Sarah, book still clutched in one hand.

"So maybe there's no big point or mission to it," Sarah murmured. "But do you think it's worth it?"

Her leg was warm against his, the book's hard cover flat on his thigh. The teasing on the other couch had devolved into laughter over something stupid.

"Yeah. I think it's worth it."

•°•°•

tag list:

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise ,

@whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump , @snakebites-and-ink

#this was so cute omg #i love this lil guy's thought process #whump #whump writing

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