petition to put my face in calzone tiddys

Chris/Lynx | i didn't block you my account was deleted | 26 | she/her | tag as chrisyounerd | taken by @meganekkomeguca

[carolnein]

the whumptober prompts are semi on hold, i’ll finish them through november. there might be some still in october, but i can’t keep my head on straight so i’m deprioritizing it for my health

hopefully within a few weeks i’ll be on ADHD meds for the first time, and that should make writing happen more reliably

[carolnein]

dracus16 replied to your post: Please stop torturing Chris-Chan! She doesn't...

It’s okay! I can understand where you’re coming from, it’s just that Chris is one of my favorite characters, and seeing people hurt her makes me feel like I’m also being hurt… (I’m sorry, I’m horrible at articulating things…)

It’s all good, I get it =V It’s a complicated feeling on my end where it’s like...of course it hurts to write and think about. But it’s a better kind of hurt, kinda relieving? A way I explained it to my girlfriend is that it’s not all depressing because we know there’s a happy ending, even if I’m not writing that part right now. But it can be a bit much sometimes (which is why I’m behind, I can’t always do these daily)

Also admittedly, ever since changing my legal name to Chris, sometimes writing the more personal stuff Gets Weird. Not always, just some of them. This is barely relevant I just need to get that off my chest somewhere,

[carolnein]

Whumptober 2019: Shackled

Day 9 of these prompts. This one is...much lighter than the last couple. More about that rough phase of recovery where things aren’t quite okay, but overall it’s a positive. Also, sometimes a friend who cares is all the help you need =3

#whumptober2019: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

9: Shackled Warnings: PTSD symptoms (flashbacks), kidnapping, gaslighting

If you like my fics, feel free to tip through my Ko-fi.

Shackled

Class ended for lunch, and while other students had left the classroom littered with textbooks and bags, Chris put her things into her own bag to take with her. Even though her classmates had asked why she carried a heavy bag with her to lunch, and she had no answer to satisfy their curiosity, every day she stayed behind to pack her bag. She wasn’t comfortable explaining truths about her past.

“Yukine-san?”

Chris looked up to see a group of classmates, three friends who reached out to her daily. One of them, Otome, called for her attention while she was clipping her bag shut.

“What is it?” Chris asked.

“Do you want to have lunch with us?” Yuki held up a wrapped bento lunch. “It’s a nice day out, we were gonna hang outside.”

“Ah, maybe…” Chris ran excuses through her head. She was learning to socialize appropriately in the classroom, but the mere idea of spending lunch alone with people she barely knew made her heart pound.

“Ah, are you okay?” Otome reached out for the end of Chris’s sleeve, which had rolled up towards her elbow. Chris yanked her hand away and pulled her sleeve down over the scars around her wrist.

“Old injury,” Chris said hastily.  “I uh, about lunch–”

“Was it,” Komichi lowered her voice to a scandalized whisper, “yourself?”

“It happened when I was a kid.” Chris stood from her desk and took a short step back. “I don’t talk about it.”

She fought against her binds for the first day. By the second, she was too tired to struggle. On the third, she’d stopped trying; her wrists had been rubbed raw and the burn of being touched was unbearable. The strength of a child was nothing compared to metal cuffs.

“It’s okay, you can talk with us,” Yuki pressed.

“We won’t judge you,” Otome said. “It’s not healthy to keep things to yourself.”

She’d been bound for so long that when she was rescued, feeling free was foreign. She never strayed far from where one of the adults had left her, despite the lack of restraints. Physically, she was capable of walking away as far as her atrophied legs could carry her, but the conceptual bonds hadn’t left her.

“I understand,” Komichi said. “It takes the pain on the inside away, I heard.”

“Do you need help?” Otome asked, taking a step closer.

“We’re here for you,” Yuki said.

Finé told her it was different when she restrained Chris, even if it felt the same as when her former captors had done it. She didn’t deserve it then, but she did now. This was for her own good, to protect her, to teach her how to behave. Chris hated herself for believing such an obvious lie.

“Chris-chan!” At the sharp cry of Hibiki’s voice, Chris flinched and looked to the doorway. “I forgot my lunch, can I borrow money to buy one?”

Chris silently thanked Hibiki for an excuse to leave as she pushed between the other girls, muttering, “Dummy, you couldn’t ask someone else?” Hibiki shrugged and flashed a sheepish grin as she goaded Chris out of the classroom.

Chris took a few deep breaths in the hallway and asked, “What did you want?”

“Miku has my lunch, I made it up.”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t show up so I got worried.” Hibiki rubbed the back of her neck. “You looked scared so I thought that would make them leave you alone.”

Chris huffed and stared at her toes as she walked. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Do you wanna talk?”

“Not really.”

Hibiki looked like she might implode from keeping her mouth shut, but to Chris’s relief, she had learned not to force herself into Chris’s problems. “Let me buy you something anyways,” Chris said. “I don’t want to owe you a debt or anything for this.”

[carolnein]

Please stop torturing Chris-Chan! She doesn't deserve it!

She doesn’t deserve it, but it cheers me and some friends up, so the cartoon has to have a bad time for the greater good

And as a serious answer, this is a topic I feel is fairly important. I’m open about projecting some of my own personal stuff into what I write, and that some of it is lifted from friends’ past traumas. I wouldn’t be writing such heavy topics if I didn’t enjoy it, but it’s for my friends too.

There’s a tendency for fanbases, as a collective, to ignore uncomfortable parts of a story and focus only on parts that don’t challenge them. And in some cases, this is insulting to real people who have had similar experiences. In the case of the Chris-centric angst shorts, everything is expanding on gaps in canon or elaborating on subtle implications, all things that happen to real people (some of which are my friends).

It’s hard to help people if you aren’t a professional, but I’m doing what I can to help a select few people not feel ignored or invalidated, or safely get some catharsis through fiction =V

[carolnein]

Whumptober 2019: Stab Wound

Day 8 of these prompts. I’m almost out of ones I’ve already written, aaaand this one is why, actually. This one was so hard to write I almost scrapped it, but I do like how it came out and asked someone else to edit it for me so that I wouldn’t have to go back to it too many times. It also took me out of the writing groove for a solid week =U

Anyways I’ve seen a lot of questions about how, in season one episode 5, there’s a dead cat in the scenery. There’s a very direct link between animal abuse as a form of domestic and child abuse, and this short is about that.

#whumptober2019: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

8: Stab wound Warnings: graphic animal cruelty to threaten a person

If you like my fics, feel free to tip through my Ko-fi.

Stab wound

“Remember that this is your fault.”

A sickening snap followed Finé’s words, then the ear-splitting yowl of a cat whose paw had been twisted at an unnatural angle. Finé’s fingers traced up the cat’s foreleg until she reached the next joint, and she took it in one hand while her other pinned the cat down by its head.

“You could have prevented this, but you didn’t.” Finé yanked back in one, fast motion, and the cat’s leg bent the wrong direction with the same sound of cracking bone. The cat howled in pain again. “You could stop this, but you won’t.”

Chris’s sweaty hand tightened around the handle of the knife she was given, but she remained frozen. Finé was right. This was her own fault.

“You’re selfish, Chris.” Finé squeezed the broken joint until the cat screeched louder. “If you weren’t so cowardly, your self-preservation would be admirable.”

Chris bit down on her tongue until the points of her teeth digging into flesh was all she could think about. She was selfish. She chose this. To cry over the animal taking her place, to feel guilt or regret, was hypocrisy.

Finé was clear that this was a punishment. She was going to be hurt, because she deserved it. This wasn’t a necessity to help her, or a moment for them to bond, but because she had failed, and without consequences, she might think it was okay to fail again.

“You could have taken its place, yet you allow it to suffer so that you don’t have to.” Finé’s words stung deep despite the pain clouding Chris’s mind.

Despite Chris’s failure, she was allowed a choice. Herself, or the cat that had gotten itself trapped and caged inside a week prior. The cat that Chris had been allowed to interact with but avoided in fear that it wouldn’t survive. Avoided so that she didn’t become attached to it, because deep down she knew its time was limited.

Her body ached from Nehushtan’s corrosive effects and the resulting treatment. She didn’t think it would be harder to allow something else to hurt in her place. She was so selfish.

“W-wait,” Chris blurted, gathering her courage to end it. “I’ll…” do it.

“You’re hesitating,” Finé said. She pressed her thumb to the cat’s larynx until its screams turned to gurgles. “Prove that you won’t always disappoint me with empty promises.”

“I’ll do it!” Chris shouted. She grit her teeth and lunged forward, knife raised, and drove it towards the cat’s side. As metal met skin, she squeezed her eyes shut, but that didn’t stop the nauseating squelch from reaching her ears.

The cat screamed, but Chris brought the knife down again, blindly stabbing again and again as the knife bounced off muscle and bone. Warm liquid splattered against her hand and face. Each strike was clumsy and drew out another howl from the cat, and she fought against every instinct begging her to stop. The cat’s cries faded, leaving only the dull sound of the knife cutting through flesh and her own ragged breathing.

“Don’t fail next time,” was the only thing Finé said. No reassurance, no touch; just an unusually-cold exit. “Do with the body what you will.”

Chris didn’t move until she heard the click of Finé’s heels fade. Slowly, she cracked her eyes open, and vibrant red stole her focus. Her hand, her clothing, the knife, everything was splattered with fresh blood and black fur. Another wave of nausea and disgust passed through her, and she threw the knife to the side. It clattered against the hard floor until it hit the wall.

She doubled over and, as if a dam burst, doubled over as her whole body was wracked with choking sobs. It was wrong to feel pity for the being that she’d doomed to such a cruel fate, but hypocrisy suited a selfish person like her.

[carolnein]

Whumptober 2019: Isolation

Day 7 of these prompts. Nothing special to say, but I do particularly like how this one came out.

#whumptober2019: 1 2 3 4 5 6

7: Isolation Warnings: implied abuse/emotional manipulation

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Isolation

Chris was never going to be alone again, because Finé said so. Chris was safe, because Finé said so. Chris was loved, because Finé said so. Finé was going to come back even though she’d been gone for more than a day, because she said so.

Chris trusted this was true, because Finé said she had to.

Finé’s long trips out had become more frequent over the past two weeks, ever since she first sent Chris out to find that other girl. Because she’d failed, Finé would take care of it herself. Because she’d failed, she was left to wait alone, but not for long. Finé said so.

No matter how Chris looked at it, this was her own fault. If she hadn’t been such a failure and done as instructed, she wouldn’t be laying in her bed in an oppressive silence, listening for a sign of Finé’s return. She said she would be back, and Chris could only wait.

Time ticked by, and Chris was afraid to look at a clock to see how little time had passed since she last checked. She said she’d come back.

Chris took a pen sitting on her bedside table and tapped it against the surface, breaking the silence. The irregular noise quickly grew maddening, and in a burst of frustration, Chris slammed it down hard on the table. A piece snapped off and flew out of sight.

With the pen already ruined, Chris gripped it in both hands and bent it until it snapped in two. She tossed one half to the side, then after a moment’s consideration, threw the other towards the wall as hard as she could while laying on her side. The dull noise it made when it bounced off the wall was the most satisfaction she’d felt over the past two days without company.

She sat upright and grabbed the nearest thing, her pillow, and hurled it in the same direction with a frustrated shout. Her desk lamp was next, and it broke on impact, the lightbulb scattering glass around the base. She flinched at the sound, but that brief, sudden fear was the first thing she’d felt that wasn’t the anxiety of being left behind. The taste of a break from the tedium gave her a craving for further destruction.

Chris stood and grabbed her bedside table by its edge to violently knock it to the side. Its few contents spilled, and the drawer fell loose. She picked up the drawer to throw it at another wall, and from the loud crack! she assumed the wood might have split. The sharp noise startled her again, but it still wasn’t enough. She was still alone, and still unable to take revenge against girl who took Finé from her.

She kicked her mattress from the bedframe and ripped her sheets away. She screamed just to hear her voice echo from the cold, empty halls outside. She tore down a curtain rod and beat it against a bedpost until the rod bent out of shape against the sturdier frame.

With nothing else to break, Chris pounded her fist against the nearest wall, again and again until her knuckles were surely bruised. She continued, and the skin broke with a hot rush of pain. Blood smeared against the wall, and her stomach churned at the sight before she lost the strength to remain on her feet. She sunk to her knees, body racked with sobs, as she realized she had been crying for some time.

Finé was going to be mad when she returned, but that was alright. She was going to punish her for the mess, but that was alright. The only way Finé could hurt her, to prove that she still loved Chris despite what a disappointment she was, was by fulfilling her promise to come back.

[carolnein]

Whumptober 2019: Dragged Away

Day 6 of these prompts. I think this one miiiight contradict some very brief flashbacks from canon, but it doesn’t affect anything. It just bugs me that I remembered that after writing this.

#whumptober2019: 1 2 3 4 5

6: Dragged away Warnings: character death, kidnapping

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Dragged away

“Let me go, Sonia!”

Chris threw her weight forward in a futile attempt to free herself from Sonia’s grip. Her skinny arms were nothing compared to Sonia, who carried supply crates that weighed more than Chris herself, but if she struggled enough, Sonia might lose her grip. She thrashed again as Sonia pulled Chris to her chest.

“Chris, come on, we have to get you somewhere safe!” Sonia yelled as she took a firmer grip on Chris’s sides and pulled her away from the inferno much more roughly. “Mateo, Aarón, we’re going to the shelter!” she called to two nearby boys who just seconds before, Chris had been playing with.

“You aren’t even checking on them!” Chris accused, digging her heels in so that Sonia had to drag her across the ground. “We have to get them to the shelter with us!”

“Chris, please.” Sonia squeezed her eyes shut and wiped tears from her cheeks with her shoulder. “We have to go, I’ll explain when it’s safe.”

“They’re hurt! They can’t make it!” Chris squirmed and twisted herself until Sonia lost her grip, and Chris slipped from her sweat-soaked palms. Sonia’s fingertips caught the back of Chris’s collar as she ran back towards the crumbling storeroom.

The thick smoke obscured her view, but she knew the direction she had to run. Blindly, she let her tiny legs carry her there.

Something she ran into blocked her path, and she knocked onto her back on the ground. It was softer than a wall, and she could make out the form of a tall person when she rubbed her eyes clear. The figure reached down to grab her by the forearm with a gloved hand and spoke into a device in Spanish too quick for her to understand.

“M- my parents,” Chris said. She couldn’t recognize who the man was with a gas mask covering his face. “Um, madre y padre…” she tried, in case he didn’t understand English. “Sonnet and Masanori Yukine, los cantantes.” Another voice came through the speaker and he clipped it to his belt.

“Please,” Chris tried again. “P-por favor. Um…ah!” Her pleas fell on deaf ears as the man walked away with her in tow, away from the wreckage of the storeroom. He wasn’t one of the adult volunteers on the base, she realized, and he wasn’t taking her to her parents or to the shelter.

“No! No!” She kicked at his legs, futilely trying to trip him from his wide steps, and threw herself to the ground, but she wasn’t heavy enough to stop him as they neared a hole cut into the chain-link fence.

“Mama! Papa! Sonia!”

[carolnein]

Whumptober 2019 - Gunpoint

Day 5 of these prompts. Sweats, I’ll catch up eventually...

Got two again this time, the bonus one being some of Maria and Serena’s early years, because I really didn’t like how AXZ handled that.

#whumptober2019: 1 2 3 4

5: Gunpoint Warnings: gun violence, child trafficking mention

Bonus: Maria, Serena, Nastassja Warnings: gun violence, child abuse

If you like my fics, feel free to tip through my Ko-fi.

Gunpoint

Chris didn’t like the view from behind a gun barrel. Even when she was staring down from the back with the dangerous end pointed away from her, the sight left a nasty taste in her mouth. The memory of the metallic, smoky air coating her nostrils and tongue resurfaced whenever she raised the muzzle towards her target.

It was easier to handle the pressure on her head and chest when her target was nonhuman. The Noise were faceless forms of destruction that couldn’t feel the way she had throughout her life. When she’d first pulled Ichaival against Hibiki, she was too blinded by rage to be distracted by those flashbacks.

If she lost her calm, her ploy to stop FIS from the inside would fail before it started. She thought she was prepared to go through with it, but nothing could have readied her for the sinking feeling of pointing the gun towards the back of Tsubasa’s head.

In the past she’d been on Tsubasa’s side of the barrel, prodded with a loaded rifle, in a line of other children being herded into a windowless van. This was different, she assured herself. She trusted that Tsubasa would understand that what she was doing was different. Just like she’d been shown hands didn’t have to be used for harm, her Armed Gear was going to be used for a greater good.

Even if Tsubasa had to get hurt, it was the right thing to do. It was different than hurting someone for a selfish reason.

Bonus: Maria

The grip of a Beretta M9 was too large for an eight-year-old to safely and comfortably hold, yet it had been shoved into Maria’s hands alongside the other orphaned children at FIS. They had been instructed on the barest basics, that pulling the trigger would fire a bullet, and to never point a gun at a target you didn’t intend to shoot. The sharp sound of gunfire pierced through earplugs and she found it difficult to focus her gaze down the sights when she kept flinching.

A foot away, Serena cowered behind her own handgun. She had finished reloading her magazine for the first time, while Maria had already shot every bullet she’d been assigned. Maria looked over her shoulder towards the guard, and when she was sure no one was looking, she released the magazine from her own Beretta and slipped it to Serena.

“Refill mine, give me yours,” Maria whispered.

“Maria-neesan…you’ll get in trouble,” Serena replied just as lowly, but she passed Maria the full magazine.

“And you’ll get in trouble if you don’t finish.” Maria loaded Serena’s magazine into her own gun’s well and fired between their targets so that none of the bullets would pierce the target, as long as she aimed well.

When the magazine expended, she traded it back for her own, now filled from Serena’s stash of bullets. Shooting was easier when Maria did it to save Serena from suffering.

Maria heard a safety click behind her, immediately followed by something pressing against the back of her head. She whirled around and, when she stared down a gun barrel, pulled the trigger.

Her assailant shouted in pain and fell to his knees while clutching his bleeding side, Serena screamed and dropped the bullets in her hand, and Maria bent over and threw up at the sight of blood seeping through the FIS guard uniform. Blood that came from a bullet she fired. A bullet that she’d shot into a man.

Other FIS staff surrounded him as Maria’s stomach continued to painfully churn. She wiped her mouth off on her shirt and when she stood upright, was met with a hard slap to the face. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up at Nastassja.

“What did we tell you about being sure of your target before firing?” Nastassja demanded. Behind her, medics carried the man – the man that she’d just shot – away.

“I…I...” Maria’s explanation was cut off by bile rising in her throat. She thought she was supposed to react quickly, to protect herself at any cost – even if the cost was shooting a living person – to survive.

Nastassja grabbed Serena by the forearm and pulled her in front of her. “Raise your gun, Maria,” Nastassja said.

Tears ran freely down Serena’s cheeks, and Maria’s heart clenched as she saw her fearful face. As instructed, Maria removed her finger and slowly pointed the Beretta towards Serena.

“Would you shoot her?” Nastassja asked. “One careless mistake, and that could have been her that you shot.” Her voice rose. “What do you think would happen to her if you shot her?”

Maria could only stare silently, mouth agape, as she thought about Serena dead and bleeding – just like that man – on the hard dirt ground.

Nastassja released Serena and turned to give orders to staff who remained on the scene. Maria set her gun down on the bench and ran to hug Serena, whispering, “It’s okay, I would never shoot you, you’re okay.”

Maria couldn’t stop imagining how one quick mistake could take the only remaining family she had from her.

[carolnein]

considering hiring someone to spray me with a water bottle every time i go to bed early and forget to post some writing

[carolnein]

Whumptober 2019: Human Shield

Day 4 of these prompts. "But isn’t it October 6th?” asks nobody. I’m an overworked sleepy baby, I keep falling asleep long before I can post these. So at some point I’ll post multiple a day to catch up.

Anyways this one’s brief and on the mild end.

#whumptober2019: 1 2 3

4: Human shield Warnings: implied character death, past abuse mention

If you like my fics, feel free to tip through my Ko-fi.

Human shield

Chris had rediscovered her reason to live, and it just as quickly became her reason to die.

She was meant to help people. Even in her lowest moments, she’d never doubted that. While she’d lost her way, someone had offered her the help that she’d never received, and now Chris was going to repay that in the only way she knew how.

Gatrandis babel ziggurat edenal

She should have suspected Finé’s betrayal sooner. In hindsight, it couldn’t be more obvious that their relationship was so unbalanced, with signs such as Finé directly telling Chris that she was worthless without her. Chris wasn’t sure if she’d stopped agreeing with her yet.

Emustolronzen Finé el balal zizzl

She questioned her motivation to throw herself in front of Kadingir’s beam, knowing that she wouldn’t survive to see the resulting change. She wasn’t righteous enough to do it just because it was the right thing. Finding her old self again was the best she’d ever felt. Even more selfishly, this act gave her a purpose Finé had trained her to believe she didn’t have.

Gatrandis babel ziggurat edenal

Ichaival’s reflectors glittered in the light of the oncoming beam, a beautiful sight that contrasted her grim fate. High in the atmosphere, surrounded by a twinkling reminiscent of stars, she prepared to lose her newly-found self to the same Heaven her parents belonged to.

Chris shut her eyes.

Emustolronzen Finé el zizzl

[xyxyz1112]

i remembered fanfic about carol adopting a dog, i read a few years ago and i really wanted to draw it

[carolnein]

Whumptober 2019: Delirium

Day 3 of these prompts. This is one of the heavier ones, but hard as some of these were to write, it’s also why I was excited to write these.

#whumptober2019: 1 2

3: Delirium Warnings: drug withdrawal, gaslighting and verbal manipulation, past sexual assault mention

If you like my fics, feel free to tip through my Ko-fi.

Delirium

Every morning when Chris woke up, she kept her eyes squeezed shut for as long as she could stand. If she opened them, she would face that the days since her rescue were a dream, and that she never left her cell. When she finally did crack her eyes open, she saw the same wall of the clean room that she’d been moved to, and that she was in a soft bed. The dream hadn’t ended yet.

The pain hadn’t stopped, and now that she was awake and aware of the soreness from healing bruises and muscle ache, she couldn’t fall back to sleep. No matter how long she slept, it wasn’t enough, and she couldn’t bring herself to move. Her chest felt like a heavy weight was on it no matter what position she laid in, and her heart was either beating too quickly for her to notice, or it had stopped beating entirely.

She heard the distinct, rhythmic sound of footsteps from outside the room, and before her body could react to the fear she felt, the door opened. The woman who rescued her, Finé, stood in the doorway. “Are you awake?” she asked.

Chris could only offer a groan in response as her mouth wouldn’t form words, and when she nodded her head, her surroundings spun. She heard Finé’s footsteps draw closer, but couldn’t see her until she sat on the bed next to Chris and placed a hand on her shoulder. The sensation was foreign, like there was an electric barrier between Finé’s hand and Chris’s skin, causing her to feel numb at the touch. Her limbs felt like they belonged to another person and she was simply piloting them, giving this supposed reality a dream-like feeling.

“Do you feel unwell?” Finé asked.

Chris nodded again, more slowly this time. She gave a weak, “Mm-hm.”

“I assume the drugs are still leaving your system.”

Chris ran the sentence through her tired mind, but it didn’t make sense. “Wha…?” was all she could manage to say.

“Do you not remember me explaining this?” Finé asked. “You were drugged before I rescued you.” Chris’s stomach couldn’t twist any further. “This is your body trying to live without them after they got you addicted.”

Chris covered her mouth as she forced back bile. She was sure she wasn’t told this. She would have remembered being told something like this. Finé stroked Chris’s hair as she continued, “This is why you were too weak to fight back when those men violated you the way they did. If you could fight, you wouldn’t be as easy to take advantage of.”

“I-I don’t…” I don’t want to remember. Chris’s hands flew to cover her ears, and her vision swam as colors danced like a kaleidoscope around her.

Finé pulled her upright into a hug and Chris closed her eyes; it felt rude to not look at someone who was speaking to her, but she wasn’t used to Finé’s total disregard for modesty. Her head pounded and she had to lean on Finé to support herself. “I’m sorry if you’re upset hearing that,” Finé said, still petting her hair. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’ll never do to you what they did.”

Anger flashed through Chris that those callous adults had ruined her so thoroughly that she could no longer trust her own memory. She buried her face in Finé’s shoulder as she started to cry in frustration. Why couldn’t she just forget and let herself be happy with her new life?

[carolnein]

i can’t stop thinking about this

[carolnein]

Whumptober 2019: Explosion

Day 2 of these prompts. Possibly obviously about Chris’s parents’ death.

#whumptober2019: 1

2: Explosion Warnings: character death

If you like my fics, feel free to tip through my Ko-fi.

Explosion

Chris considered herself a lucky child. Not many kids her age had the chance to travel around the world, home-schooled by their parents. Although they hadn’t lived in a single home since Chris was old enough to travel with them, her father told her that home wasn’t a place, but whenever you were with the people you loved.

Her experiences had allowed her to learn about less-fortunate people, to learn about how much she had in her life that others didn’t. None of the friends she made on their war relief missions had both a home and two living parents. Not only was she lucky enough to have those things, but she knew to appreciate them, and just how quickly they could be taken.

The military base where they were stationed in Val Verde was no exception. Chris had been raised a proper little lady, she was told, tactfully navigating conversations with war orphans her own age. Once they were friends, the differences between them didn’t matter, not their pasts nor the languages they spoke, as long as she could play tag and kick a ball. That was her job, to raise their spirits in a way her parents and the other adult volunteers couldn’t.

While her parents helped move the newest supply shipment to a storeroom, she was asked to stay out of the way of the adults moving heavy boxes. The refugee children shared her instruction, and a rule-free game of soccer followed.

A splash of color in the dirt caught her attention as she ran, and she stopped to investigate. Natural greenery was rare in such war-torn areas, especially something as delicate as the flower she found. Briefly, she considered picking it to show around or offer as a gift to her parents, but just as much as any person, the little flower deserved her respect and a chance to live in this unforgiving environment.

Footsteps approached her, pounding on the ground faster than any of the children who might have been chasing her. Chris looked up, and just as she recognized Sonia, she was tackled to the ground, smothered by Sonia’s body. Next was a booming sound that hurt her ears, and a wave of unbearable heat.

Sonia lifted herself, covered in dirt and scrapes, and spoke, but Chris couldn’t understand her. Her ears rang, she was confused, she was disoriented, everyone around her had begun screaming. Her first clear sense was the sight of the storeroom, and its walls crumbling down as smoke and flames billowed through where a roof should be.

“Mama…Papa?”

[carolnein]

Whumptober 2019: Shaky Hands

Alright, I mentioned wanting to do 31 days of gratuitous angst ficlets from these prompts, and here it begins. I ran a poll on Twitter, and majority vote agreed “all 31 days of Chris Yukine headcanons and backstory fanon.” And to make an even bigger majority happy, some of these are going to have a second bonus prompt featuring other characters. First day, of course, is going to have a bonus.

#whumptober2019

1: Shaky Hands Warnings: PTSD symptoms, gun violence

Bonus: Hibiki, Miku No major content warnings

If you like my fics, feel free to tip through my Ko-fi.

Shaky hands

Deep breath in. Long breath out. Gun muzzle forward, finger tight on the trigger. Don’t overthink the shot. Deep breath in. Hard breath out.

The tip of the barrel shook erratically as Chris squeezed the trigger, shooting the wide form of a Noise. Aiming came second nature when firing at a crowd, the barrel guided by instinct to hit the closest target. She didn’t think; she only fired.

I can take care of myself, she had argued. I don’t need everyone to baby me just because you think I’m scared.

She wasn’t scared; fear was too simple an emotion to describe how she felt. If she was scared, she could fight the source of her fear until it was gone, or she could scream, cry, do anything but grit her teeth and struggle against paralysis.

If you don’t want me to go out there with you, then you can try to stop me, she had said. Or you can stay out of my way and let me stop Finé.

A magazine dropped from one of her handguns as she fired the final round. The loud clatter startled her from the memory. She hadn’t been counting her shots. She fired the last bullet from the second gun, let its magazine fall, and reached for a spare at her waist.

I don’t need your help! she’d yelled at Hibiki when she tried to express concern.

Chris’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking, but she didn’t need to focus to insert a loaded magazine. She slammed it into the well before reaching for a second spare, but the magazine slipped from her fingers as the corner clipped against the gun’s grip, and plummeted towards the floor, out of reach. With Noise approaching from every side and nothing but an unloaded gun in her hand, she froze.

A cry of, “Chris-chan!” was followed by Hibiki breaking through the line of approaching Noise. She threw Chris a quick, worried look, then moved on as quickly as she appeared.

Chris didn’t take the time to feel sorry for herself for such an amateurish mistake. She bit her tongue and muttered a “Thanks,” as she retrieved the fallen magazine.

I survived before you came along, I would’ve been fine.

Bonus: Hibiki

“Hey, Miku.”

Miku turned to see Hibiki hunched over in a dining chair with her chin resting on the table. Her hand was splayed out in front of her face, and she was surprisingly contemplative as she looked at it. “What is it, Hibiki?”

“Do you think there are people beyond saving?”

“That’s a serious question, coming from you,” Miku said as she turned off the tap and dried her hands. “Why do you ask?”

“I just can’t stop thinking…” Hibiki clenched her fist. “What if somebody doesn’t want to be saved?”

Miku pulled out a chair to sit across from Hibiki and asked, “Are you thinking about someone in particular?”

Hibiki shook her head. “I don’t know anymore.” She deflated, her hand fell limp, and she pressed her forehead to the tabletop. “If someone doesn’t want to be helped, is it wrong to try?”

Miku reached over and took Hibiki’s trembling hand. “That sounds like you’re looking for a simple answer to a complex question. Isn’t it enough to do what you think is right?”

Hibiki’s shaking fingers curled around Miku’s hand in return. “How do I know if it’s the right thing? What if I’m wrong?”

She thought back to Chris recoiling in fear at her outstretched hand. To Finé’s reactive anger as she rejected her hand. Carol’s face as she refused Hibiki’s hand in favor of risking her own death. Saint-Germain slapping her hand away as she denied that they shared a goal.

Miku laced her fingers between Hibiki’s and squeezed her hand. Hibiki lifted her head to look at her.

“Nobody is going to agree on what’s right,” Miku said. “I think it’s admirable that the solution you find saves everyone.”

An anxious shiver ran through Hibiki and she squeezed Miku’s hand back, tightly. Miku continued, “If you have to save somebody who doesn’t want to be saved, it wouldn’t be right to leave them alone if they were hurting other people, either. That’s what these hands are for.”

Hibiki set her free hand on top of Miku’s and forced a smile. She couldn’t make herself believe that the power she was given wasn’t meant to cause harm, but maybe Miku could convince her of that. “Thanks, Miku.”

[whumptober]

OCTOBER APPROACHES!

And so does Whumptober 2019! Feast your eyes on this year’s gut-wrenchingly glorious Prompt List, and get inspired to create some killer content starting October 1st. There are some changes to the tagging system from last year, so be sure to give the attached Event information a read! If after reading you still have questions, feel free to send an ask to @whumptober2019​ or reach out to the event creator, @la-vie-en-whump​ !

We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!

-Kat

The official Prompt List, Event information, and FAQs are all transcribed below the cut.

Keep reading

[carolnein]

XV still has me bad and all that matters is that good carolnein content. I’m ignoring the divide and I don’t care about fandom wars, I’m being directly catered to.

Here’s Carol and Elfnein kissing instead of *checks notes* not kissing.

(If you like my fics, consider tipping through my Ko-fi.)