#sean mitchell

[djkerr]

Luke Tennie as Sean Mitchell + Dominic Clark + Dr. Crus Henderson ✨ Shrinking + Abbot Elementary + The Pitt

📹 warnerbrostv IG

[sugarglazed]

wow I cant believe Sean is moonlighting as a doctor in Pittsburgh on his nights!

[cynicalone94]

Day 16: I've Had The Rug Pulled Beneath My Feet

Tag to Whumpril 2025 Day 11 - Grounding - Dean's unexpected reappearance causes a nightmare for Wes but his dad makes it all better.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut.

He’s in the middle of a math test when the office aide sticks her head in the door. 

“I need Wesley Martin, Mrs. Livingston.” She says. 

His heart rate accelerates. 

The last time he’d been summoned to the office it was because his dad had been shot at work. 

He’d survived but the experience had been a rude awakening. 

That even though he’d finally found a father figure who wouldn’t toss him out with the trash, he could still end up alone. 

He shakes his head. 

His dad is fine.

He stands up slowly. 

“They said to bring your things.” The aide says and he shakily collects his books, throwing his bag over his shoulder, and walks toward the door. 

They reach the office and he freezes outside the door. 

That’s not his dad. 

Or Grant. 

Or Leyla. 

Those are the only three people who are supposed to be able to pick him up. 

Dean isn’t supposed to be within a hundred meters of him. 

“He… he’s not supposed to be here.” He stammers, reaching for his phone. 

His dad answers on the third ring. 

“Dean is at the school.” He says shakily. 

“He’s there to pick you up.” His dad says, sounding pained. “The judge restored custody.”

“W- what?” He stammers. 

“I wish I could be there, Wes.” His dad says. “But I can’t. The judge also granted a restraining order. I can’t come near you.”

“Dad.” He says, eyes filling with tears. 

“I’m not your dad anymore, kid.” The man says. “I’ll always love you but I can’t… I can’t be that for you.”

The call ends. 

The door to the office opens and Dean steps out. 

“When I call you, I expect you to come faster than this.” He says coldly. “Or you’ll pay the consequences.”

Wes glances to the office aide. 

Is she hearing this?

But she steps past him, returning to her desk inside the office. 

Dean grabs his arm, dragging him down the hall. 

“Let’s go boy.” He says. “You and I need to have a serious conversation.”

He pulls back but only trips over his own feet, falling hard to the ground. 

Hits the carpet with a thud and jerks upright.

The moon is shining through the window, illuminating the green comforter that he’d finally let his dad convince him to pick out. 

Just a dream. 

He drops back to lie on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. 

The door creaks open. 

“You okay, kiddo?” His dad asks quietly. 

“Did I wake you?” He answers. 

“Kind of been lying awake.” His dad admits, dropping to the floor to sit next to him. “Figured after today there’d be a good chance you’d have a nightmare.” 

Wes huffs a humorless laugh. 

He wonders what had tipped him off. 

The fact that he’d spent most of the evening in a dissociative state?

Or the fact that he’d barely managed a few bites of dinner?

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

“What for?” His dad asks. 

“I’m seventeen years old.” He says, tilting his head toward him. “I shouldn’t still be that scared of him.”

“Wes.” His dad says, reaching for his hand. “He broke your jaw when you were seven years old. I think you’re allowed to be scared of him.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore.” Wes protests, not unaware that he sounds like a little kid. 

“He’s still twice your size.” His dad reminds him. “And its hard to overcome the effect of childhood trauma.”

“So I’m just going to be afraid of him for the rest of my life?” he whines. 

“Probably, yeah.” his dad says bluntly. “But we can help control the way that you react to him.”

“Yeah?” Wes asks. 

“Sure.” his dad promises. “We’ll work on some hand to hand stuff specifically targetted toward helping you with someone who’s taller and bulkier than you. I think knowing that you have the tools in your kit to fight him off if you need him will help. And I bet your therapist has some stuff she can work through with you, give you some coping mechanisms to curtail that panic response.”

Wes grimaces. 

He’s starting to open up more to the idea of therapy but that doesn’t mean that he enjoys it. 

Still, if it helps him not completely freeze up the next time he comes face to face with Dean….

And he will. 

He knows the man better than anyone. 

He’s angry that a judge had taken away his favorite plaything. 

He’s going to violate the restraining order again. 

It’s only a matter of time. 

And it won’t be long because – much to his dad’s annoyance – the officers from today had chosen to only issue a warning for the violation. 

He’ll get arrested next time but today he’d walked off scot free. 

Thoughts of the restraining order remind him of his nightmare. 

“Hey dad?” he says quietly. 

“Yeah kiddo?”

“You would never let him get custody back, right?” he says, definitely feeling like a little kid now. 

His dad tilts his head, studying him for a moment. 

“You know that story you told me about when you were boosting cars and you almost got caught by that violent asshole?” he asks after a moment. 

“Yeah…” Wes says, not sure what this has to do with his question. 

“You got away by throwing dirt in his eyes.” his dad continues. “Told me that you don’t usually like fighting dirty but that you learned because you were always at a disadvantage and you never regretted doing it that night.”

An inkling of where he’s going with this sparks but Wes just nods. 

“If Dean ever got the chance to sue for custody again I would pull out every dirty trick in the book.” his dad tells him. “I would call in favors from every friend I have in the department, in DCFS, in the court systems, every lawyer I know and I would not stop until I got a judge to rule in my favor.”

Wes cracks a small smile. 

“And if in some loony tunes universe a judge actually ruled against me after all of that.” his dad says. “I would take you and make a run for Mexico before I let them hand you over to that asshole.”

“You promise?” he whispers. 

“Bud, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” his dad promises. “There is no way I am letting someone take you away from me. Especially not that piece of shit.”

He finally sits up, leaning against the bed next to his dad who throws an arm around his shoulders. 

“That bastard had the chance to be your dad.” his dad adds. “And he wasted it. I’m not doing that. You’re my son and I love you.”

He leans in. 

“I love you too, dad.”

They sit there for a long time, just enjoying being together even this late at night, and then his dad pulls his arm free and gently nudges him. 

“Alright.” he says quietly. “Time for bed, kiddo. You think you can sleep or do you want me to read to you for a bit?”

He’s pretty tired. 

There’s nothing quite so exhausting as a panic attack followed by a lengthy dissociation episode. 

And despite the buzz from the nightmare, he’s actually feeling pretty settled after their conversation. 

But he really does enjoy it when his dad reads to him. 

“Just one chapter?” he asks, ducking his head. 

His dad has to work in the morning and he’s already stayed up pretty late. 

“You got it.” the man says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and then helping him up. 

Not for the first time, he’s asleep before the end of the chapter. 

@whumptober @whumptober-archive @itsdesiree86

[verus-veritas]

Bad Experience...

By Sean Mitchell

It was unfortunate for Chris, his strong body and angelic face; it was just what Oliver was looking for...

Oliver, the spirit of a evil killer was searching for a new place to hide, he had already vacated his previous host a porter in the local hospital, he could pick off his victims with little consequence.

Oliver waited for Chris to return to his room - and privacy. Oliver still invisible to Chris used a powerful kinetic punch which threw Chris across the room and onto the bed face down.

Chris was gasping, unable to speak or move finding himself pinned to the bed. There's a knock on the door.

"Everything ok in there Chris?" It was Chris's brother.

Chris' eyes darted over to the door, hoping that his brother would come in and help, but Oliver just wasn't quite ready yet. Taking a new host was an enjoyable experience for Oliver; not so much for the host but Oliver wasn't going to be denied it.

Oliver quickly moved over to Chris, and suddenly he felt icy hands on his shoulders, seconds later Oliver pushed his head and shoulders into Chris'. Instantly the young jock's blue eyes rolled back, and he let off a low gargle as Oliver's throat wrapped around the jock's and began to manipulate it.

Under Oliver's control Chris' head raised and said "Yeah, just dropped some books, be down in a minute". A reassuring "Ok" came from the other side of the door, and the brother left.

Satisfied Oliver withdrew from Chris, and the jock's head fell to the bed again - his eyes slowly returning to normal. Oliver gestured again, and flipped Chris onto his back. Another gesture and Oliver had pushed up the jocks T-shirt and exposing his plate like pecs and perfectly sculptured abs. Oliver smiled to himself - he had made a perfect choice. Oliver looked into the eyes of the young jock, they were wide and look of fear was evident.

Oliver toyed with the guy's body; it flexed, and bucked. He squeezed and Chris' back arched, all the time not a single sound came from Chris. Oliver smiled as a sticky patch appeared through Chris' chinos - it was time for Oliver to scrape out all that was left of Chris and take his place.

With the jock's body still arched Oliver moved over and seeped into his abs occupying the muscle itself. Oliver relaxed his hold on the jock and his body collapsed to the bed. Although Chris still couldn't move or speak he felt something inside, he started to breath heavy again as he felt a coldness expand from the muscles in his abs up through his pecs and shoulders. Oliver travelled through Chris' muscles, devouring and replacing them at the same time. The coldness passed down past the damp patch slowly taking control of the jock's strong legs. Oliver enjoyed the last part taking all that was left of the host and taking it for himself.

Chris' breathing became shallow as Oliver began to push up his neck and throat, Chris was able to strain and he pushed his head back, but it was too late. A vacant look appeared on Chris' face and once again his angelic eyes rolled back into his head. Oliver crawled up into the jock's head, devouring Chris' most personal thoughts and memories; making them his own, before extinguishing the jock's spirit completely.

Chris' blue eyes rolled forward, and the angelic face gave a very uncharacteristic sadistic grin before returning to Chris' "cocky jock" smile. The jock stood up and felt his abs and pecs. Chris looked down at the damp patch on his chinos and pulled off his pants and shorts. He quickly cleaned himself up with the spent shorts and discarded them in the corner of the room. Knowing exactly where everything was Chris went to a closet and got another pair of chinos and pulled them on; going commando was very out of character, but things are going to be changing for Chris, and this was just the start.

Source: “Bad Experience...” by Sean Mitchell on CYOC

[mshaymitchell]

[upsettingandunfortunateclasshate]

In the 1930s a cross-community class politics existed, as Seán Mitchell’s book elucidates

This eyewitness glimpse of Belfast in October 1932 is significant for more than its fresh language. The notion that ‘growling’ men on the city’s Protestant-dominated Shankill Road would hasten to the aid of Catholics fighting the police a short distance away on the Falls Road seems vanishingly improbable, then as now. 

Yet the premise of Seán Mitchell’s fascinating Struggle or Starve: Working-Class Unity in Belfast’s 1932 Outdoor Relief Riots is that a class-based politics did exist, and even for a short time flourished, on the streets of a notoriously sectarian city.

Well worth a read

[cynicalone94]

Wes Mitchell cut ties with his biological father, Dean Bartlett, years ago but that still can't seem to stop him from paying the price for the man's mistakes.

Chapter 3 now available.

Read on Ao3 here or below the cut.

Cam is sitting in Wes’s office having just finished a video conference with some bureaucrat back in DC when her phone rings.

It’s got a California area code and she sighs.

When she’d told Wes she had no problem fulfilling relief supervisor obligations for two weeks so that he could check in on the half-sister he’d just learned he had, she hadn’t expected so many calls from the States.

“Special Agent Vo.”

“Agent Vo, I’m calling from the Los Angeles Field Office.” A chirpy woman who’s voice oozes receptionist says. “I’ve got a Sean Mitchell on the line for you.”

Wes’s dad?

“Uh, yeah.” She stumbles. “Put him through.”

“One moment please.”

She’s not sure she has a moment if Sean is calling but bites her tongue and patiently waits for the patch.

“Mr. Mitchell?” She greets. “Special Agent Vo, what can I do for you?”

“Have you heard from Wes?” He asks, sounding anxious.

“Not since he left.” She says. “But I wasn’t really expecting to so early on either. Is everything okay?”

“His flight landed almost twelve hours ago.” He says. “He was going to meet with Delila and her mom, maybe have lunch if the initial introduction went well and then head back to his hotel to get some sleep. He said he’d call me when he got there and let me know how things went but I haven’t heard from him. And his phone is going straight to voicemail.”

She frowns.

Wes isn’t the type of person to forget a phone call he’d promised to make, especially to the adopted father that he’s incredibly close with.

And he doesn’t turn his phone off.

“It’s possible that he forgot to charge it.” She says weakly.

“That’s not like him and you know it.” He says darkly.

She muses thoughtfully.

Amanda might be able to find out something.

Pull the gps data on his phone and figure out where it had gone dark.

Possibly check some cameras at the airport and the hotel.

Check his financials and reach out to taxi companies.

They could also potentially get an agent from the local field office to make a welfare check.

If this is nothing, Wes will be horribly embarrassed.

If it isn’t nothing….

“Do you know the name of the hotel he was staying at?” She asks.

“I’ve tried calling the room.” He says. “Nobody answers so he’s not there right now. But maybe you can convince the front desk to actually tell you if he’s checked in yet.”

She agrees and he gives her the name and phone number for the hotel as well as his direct line.

She pokes her head into the bullpen before calling.

“Hey Amanda.” She calls.

“What’s up?”

“Possible situation in Pittsburgh.” She offers. “Nothing concrete yet but Wes missed a scheduled check in with his dad and isn’t answering his phone. Can you ping it? And see if you can find a number for his sister’s mom?”

The analyst frowns, knowing as well as she does that this is unusual behavior, but nods, spinning back to her computer.

Cam steps back into the office, dialing the hotel.

It takes some talking to wear down the receptionist but she’s finally able to get the answer that he’d never checked in.

His bags had arrived, delivered straight from the airport, but there’d been no sign of him.

She makes a decision.

Wes’s service weapon is in that luggage and while she knows he would have multiple locks in place to secure it for an international flight, it’s still best not to leave the bags unattended.

She calls the Field Office.

In very short order, she and Andre are touching down in Pittsburgh.

An agent from the field office is waiting at security to meet them.

“We’ve found the cab company that he caught from the airport but there’s been a problem locating the driver.” The agent tells them.

“What kind of problem?” Andre asks.

“The cameras show him getting into a Red Wolf cab in the loading areas and his credit card payment processed in that name but they don’t have a cab matching the medallion number from the video.” She explains. “It’s something that gypsy cab drivers have been doing lately to avoid detection.”

“If the payment goes to the company they’re impersonating then how do they get paid?” Cam asks.

“Card skimmers.” The agent says darkly. “Typically they only steal enough to cover the cab fair but it’s spread out in multiple charges to nondescript services over several days. All small denomination payments to payees that seem like gas stations or vending machines and the like so the customer never thinks anything of it. We have financial crimes trying to identify them and hopefully the gypsy but it’s possible none of the charges have hit yet.”

Cam nods.

The gypsy cab driver might not even be related to Wes’s disappearance.

It could just be an unlucky coincidence that happens to be delaying their ability to confirm that he’d made it to the Jenkins’ house.

“What about Cassie and Delila Jenkins?” She asks.

“Cassandra is down at the field office right now.” The agent tells her. “We don’t really have anything to hold her on but she did agree to come in for an informal interview. But Delila wasn’t at the house and she won’t say where she is. She’s been homeschooled for the last year or so and it’s making it tricky to nail down the last time anyone saw her.”

Cam’s gut twists.

Wes and Delila both missing.

Delila’s mom cooperating but only on the surface.

Adding in the detail Amanda had provided just after landing.

Dean Bartlett had never boarded that flight to London.

They have no idea where the man is.

[cynicalone94]

Wes proposed. Amanda said yes. Lili is thrilled and so are their friends and family.

Amanda's ex-husband and his wife are less so. They already thought that three was a crowd and apparently four is entirely too many. What will they be willing to do to prevent Wes from joining their family?

Chapter 21 is now available.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut.

Five days.

That’s how long Sean waits for his son to wake up.

The ventilator finally gets turned off and the tube pulled from Wes’s throat on the morning of day four.

The doctors discontinue the sedatives at the same time.

He’d stubbornly continued sleeping for another two days.

Sean wants to laugh.

Wants to make jokes about high school and the way that his kid was not a morning person.

Getting him up in the mornings was always hard and even more so as a Junior and Senior when he’d had conditioning for soccer before school.

On the weekends when Sean let him sleep in, he’d often come stumbling into the living room around noon, his hair a chaotic mess.

It’s long after noon now, time to get up kid.

But Wes was tortured so he’ll let him sleep.

To a point.

His eyes fill with tears when familiar blue-green eyes blink open.

Wes doesn’t move other than his eyes drifting from side to side.

Sean leans forward, squeezing his son’s hand.

“Wes? Buddy?” He calls softly. “You with me, kiddo?”

Grant stirs, sitting up in the recliner.

Wes squeezes his hand back.

“D’d?” He mumbles, eyes drifting closed again.

“None of that five more minutes nonsense.” Sean teases. “Eyes open kiddo.”

Wes’s entire face screws up but he manages to force his eyes back open.

His head rolls weakly toward Sean.

“There you are.” Sean says, hand coming up to cup the back of his neck. “How do you feel?”

Grant has levered himself up out of the recliner and come around the other side of the bed.

Sean watches him press the call button out of the corner of his eye while Wes’s forehead furrows as he thinks about the answer to the question.

“Okay. I think?” He says, almost sounding confused.

“Hurting anywhere?” Sean presses gently.

“Stomach feels… tight.” Wes says finally. “‘M a little… hot?”

“Fever has come down a lot but you’re definitely still warm.” Sean says, hand coming around to press gently to his son’s cheek and forehead despite his temperature being displayed on the monitor.

Wes leans into the touch.

The door swings in and Sean glances back to see the doctor coming to a stop at the foot of the bed.

“It’s good to see you awake.” The man says with a smile. “How are we feeling?”

“Like a pincushion.” Wes jokes, his voice still scratchy from disuse but getting stronger.

Sean picks up a cup of water from the side table, guiding the straw to his son’s mouth so he can take a few sips.

“Any pain?” The doctor asks.

Wes shakes his head.

“Jus’ feels a little tight.” He answers.

“Mind if I take a peek at your stitches?” The doctor asks.

Wes nods and Sean steps back so that the doctor can side in next to the bed.

He carefully shifts blankets and the hospital gown and then peels back bandages.

It doesn’t look like much.

Sean knows how deep it is but on the surface it had only taken two sutures to close up.

The skin had been a little inflamed earlier in the week from the stomach acid that had leaked from his perforated stomach but most of that has faded.

Wes winces as the man carefully probes around the edges of the laceration before nodding to himself and pressing the bandages back into place.

“It’s healing nicely.” He tells the room at large. “Another three to five days and we’ll be able to remove the external sutures. The internal ones will dissolve on their own as things heal.”

Wes nods tiredly.

This isn’t exactly his first rodeo with dissolvable stitches.

“Labs from this morning are looking very promising.” The doctor continues. “Now that you’re awake, we can start considering the possibility of discharging you and getting you back to Budapest to recover in your own bed.”

Wes’s face brightens at that but Sean doesn’t have it in him to tease his son.

Not about that.

He’d like to get Wes back home to recover in his own bed too.

If he thought Wes would go for it, he might whisk him away to LA but Wes has people in Hungary waiting to see him.

Not to mention an international flight while recovering from an infection and still taking antibiotics will be hard enough from Paris to Budapest.

Paris to LA would be significantly longer.

Six times longer in fact.

In the time it would take to fly to LA, they could reach Budapest by train.

Which Sean is actually considering.

While it would take longer than flying, it might be worth it to bypass the altitude changes and turbulence – especially during landing and take -off.

He’ll have to talk it over with Wes as they get closer to actually leaving.

Maybe ask his doctors what they think as well.

The doctor fusses for a few more minutes before disappearing into the hallway.

Wes’s eyes are dropping but Sean has to ask.

“You have it in you to make a phone call before you turn into a pumpkin?”

Wes frowns for a moment before a smile spreads across his face and he nods.

Amanda picks up on the first ring.

“How is he?” She demands without greeting.

Sean just smiles, turning the phone around to show Wes, eyes open and a fond smile gracing his lips.

“Hey babe.” He says.

“Wes!” She gasps. “You’re awake!”

“For a bit.” He agrees, blinking slowly.

“How are you feeling?” She asks, already scanning his face for the answer.

“I’m good.” He reassures her. “Little tired but good.”

She doesn’t believe it for a second but she just smiles, a slightly exasperated adoration in her eyes that soothes Sean’s worried dad heart.

“Do you wanna talk to Lili before you return to dreamland?” She asks him.

“Yes please.” He replies instantly. “How’s she doing?”

She frowns.

“They arrested Laszlo at the Chateau.” She says, making sure he’s fully caught up. “She knew he might be involved but we both hoped that maybe… but she’ll be glad to see you awake. She’s been worried.”

Wes frowns.

Amanda turns from the screen for a moment and then a smaller face swims into the frame next to hers.

“Wes!” Lili exclaims. “You’re awake! Are you feeling better?”

“Hey sunshine.” Wes says warmly. “Yeah. I’m doing right as rain. Doctor is already talking about booting me back to Budapest.”

“You’re coming home?” Both of his girls exclaim as one.

“He wants to finish the IV antibiotics before he kicks him.” Sean cuts in. “Might be on our way to you guys sometime tomorrow. Definitely by the day after. But he’s gonna be resting for a while.”

Post-sepsis syndrome is no joke.

Wes is likely to have his ass planted on a couch for a few weeks at least.

“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.” Lili says quietly.

“Hey, no.” Wes says seriously. “None of this was your fault, Sunshine. And I’m going to be okay.”

“Lili was actually a big help in finding you.” Sean says. “Helped us plot Ibolya’s habits to track her.”

“A born investigator like her mom.” Wes says.

He wants to talk to her more.

To reassure her that none of this was her fault.

To check in with how she’s feeling about her dad’s involvement in all of this.

But neither of those conversations are really face-time from another country while he struggles to stay awake material.

“I miss you guys.” he says instead. “Can’t wait to get home.”

“We can’t wait to have you home.” Amanda says, an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Get some rest, baby. Let us know what they say about leaving tomorrow.”

“Will do.” he promises. “Love you guys.”

“We love you too.” they chorus and then his dad is ending the call.

“Alright.” he says, setting the phone aside. “Back to sleep with you. Do you think you can fall asleep or shall I sing to you?”

“Gonna have enough nightmares as it is.” Wes grumbles playfully.

His dad’s hand still comes up to brush his hair back from his face.

“I’ll be here if you do.” he promises.

“Thanks dad.” Wes mumbles sleepily, already drifting off to sleep, soothed by the familiar motion.

He probably will have nightmares. It was shit couple of days locked up in that damn dungeon.

But his dad will be here when he does.

@itsdesiree86