Hi there! You guys do such wonderful work here and I was wondering if you could help find this fic: I think it was a 5+1 and something to do with Peter being sleepy due to the cold weather and going into hibernation (although it was never fully) I remember one part where he was swinging back to the tower cuz the heater in his suit broke and he knew he needed to get warm soon. Instead he ended up in a garbage bin cuz he got too tired, Tony and someone else found him (1/2)
I believe you’re looking for chapter 4 of this fic:
Five Times Peter Parker Pretended to Be Asleep by @blondsak
...and the one time he actually was.
Or: sometimes, faking sleep can work to your advantage. When it comes to trying to fool a certain genius, overprotective, superhero mentor, Peter finds this to be doubly true.
Heyy I wanted to pop in and say you definitely got me interested in 911 Lone Star and now that I’ve started it I am totally hooked!! Should I check out the other 911 show as well? Is there any connection between the two? The whump looks amazing in both!
Yay!! That’s awesome! Lone Star is so good! I’m so glad you checked it out! As for 9-1-1 I say YES! Definitely give a look! I watched it a while after I watched Lone Star because I was curious but it’s so good and definitely worth a look at. I will say that season 1 isn’t...great. I mean I hated the first episode and I actually stopped for a while after it cause it was off putting. Buck is my favorite (I say as if that isn’t completely obvious by all the Buck whump gifs I post lol) and I hated him in the pilot. Like he was awful but he’s so cute and he’s got such a big heart. He grows so much and the firefam is amazing and the whump is SO GOOD!!! Everyone gets some great emotional whumping and there’s good physical whump for a bunch of them too. Episode 1 may suck but episode 2 and beyond is SO much better and it just continues to get better. It’s so good. Watch it babe!
As for any connections, they’re both pretty standalone. This upcoming episode for both is going to be their first crossover event. The 118 is going to Texas to help the 126 with wildfires and Hen, Buck, and Eddie are going to be there. Other than a throwaway line Judd makes in the first season of Lone Star (the one about a firefighter in LA who survived a rebar going through his head? Yeah that was about Chimney in 9-1-1). Other than that there’s really no connections so you can watch either without knowing about the other one. Of course watching the crossover this week will be more fun if you’ve seen both ;)
This is my long way of saying I definitely recommend watching 9-1-1! It’s very good and you’ll enjoy yourself :D
Hiya! I am so in love with your writing and I keep re-reading Guiding Light, it’s just so stinkin’ great and I can’t get enough. That being said, I wonder if we’ll find out what happened in the time Y/N was The Destroyer and how she ended up back at the compound out of the blue? I gots to know! Lol, thanks for bringing your amazing talent to the world!
series masterlist // series playlist
“She’s exquisite.”
There was a ringing in your ears louder than the voice of the man standing next to you. A white hot burning ached in your palm and you looked down to find a gun gripped tightly in your hand, finger still pressed to the trigger. It was heavy in your hand, but familiar, like you’d used it before.
You narrowed your eyes upon the weapon, lifting it carefully and examining the shades of deep grey and metallic in the trimming. As you lowered the weapon back to your side, you caught sight of a man curled up on the floor.
He was wearing a white lab coat, cracked glasses on the brim of his nose, and a far distant look in his eyes. A single bullet wound at the center of his forehead and a pool of deep red circling around him. It flooded over the concrete and touch the edges of your boots.
“Good work, princess,” a voice purred and you turned to face a man with a jagged scar over his face and cutting through his eye. He grinned at you, something sinister and unkind, but you couldn’t place why.
You realized then it was you that had killed the man at your feet.
Several men stood against the wall, scribbling into clipboards and murmuring amongst themselves. Some snapped pictures, others attempted to step forward to take measurements and run tests judging by the foreign equipment in their hands but the scarred man held a hand up in warning.
He turned back to you. “You’ve come so far. We’re about ready for you to complete your mission.”
You nodded, relieved.
The mission was something you could focus on. It wasn’t like the constant flush of blurred images in the back of your mind and the haze of fog that clouded in your brain. It wasn’t scattered memories of a man blue eyes or ginger hair and camouflage uniform.
It was clear. It made sense. It was what you were built for.
They’d shown you pictures of the traitor who escaped from his duties at Hydra, who betrayed the men who raised him and gave him new life. They told you of the atrocities he’d committed since his escape and the so-called ‘heroes’ he hid behind. They told you he was vindictive, a monster, a personification of the devil himself.
They only referred to him as Soldat.
“We have one last task for you, princess,” the man with the scar said.
His hand circled at your lower back and your whole body went stiff. His touch was revolting and you couldn’t understand why. He was the man who saved you, who trained and fed you. He was not your enemy, and yet, you couldn’t shake the unpleasant twist of your stomach as he guided you down the hall and away from the body of the man you’d killed.
He handed you a piece of paper with a series of coordinates. You took in your hand, studying it carefully.
“Once you arrive, press the red button on the inside collar of your suit,” he told you. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” you responded and the smirk that curved on the edges of his lips was sickening.
“Good. You don’t have much time now,” he opened the back door of the hallway where a series of cells laid in your path. He pulled down a lever to his right and a siren wailed through the hall. The cell doors began to open and prisoners began to sheepishly emerge from their cages, looking around curiously.
Most were ready and eager for a fight.
“Have fun.”
With that, the scarred man disappeared and you were alone. It had been a while since they’d had you use your hands in combat. Two knives were settled against your thighs and you yanked them from their holsters, pleased to be of use.
A man at the front of the crowd growled at you, and you charged.
***
You arrived at the coordinated given to you six hours later. Copper stung in your mouth and red stuck in dried crust along your arms and in your hair. You were used to it, welcomed it. You wore it as a coat of armor.
The fields around you were open and green, with trees lining around an extensive series of buildings. Stars peppered in the night sky and it was stunningly quiet, save for the crickets chirping in the distance.
Something about the curve of the running paths and the lake nestled behind the left wing of the compound was familiar. It burned in the back of your mind where the clouded images were locked away and you pushed it from your focus.
You walked up the long driveway, surprised to find no resistance along the way. The handle of your knife was gripped tightly within your grasp, ready and eager for a fight, the image of the man named Soldat fused to the forefront of your mind.
You’d do what you were ordered. You’d kill the man they demanded of you and they’d give you reprieve from the electric shock of the chair. It was how this worked. Follow orders, get rewarded.
Fail and be punished.
It was a simple system.
You stood at the edge of the building and remembered the scarred man’s orders. Press the button on the inside of the collar.
The cold press of your fingers slipped against your neck and your felt for the impossibly small notch in your suit. You pressed it as you were commanded and suddenly fire lit through your veins and electricity spasmed through every muscle.
You fell to the ground. Darkness caved in.
The Destroyer, it seemed, would have to wait her turn.
—–
Just a small drabble but this is roughly what I imagined!
just gonna tag my guiding light fam in case yall wanna see this too
Are you a parking ticket? Cuz you’ve got fine written all over you 😉
“parking as a free resource contributes to car culture and is ruining our cities” vs “fines as a method of punishment disproportionately affect the poorest members of our society while letting the rich get off with a slap on the wrist” fight
You guys are so great for putting this together! I’m having such a wonderful time and look forward to doing something with whump every day! Finding that there are so many people in the community brings me so much joy! Thank you for putting this together!
We’re so glad you’re enjoying it! It’s so exciting to see everyone getting together to create things and discuss all different aspects of whump! 😊
(also hi this is Sable and I’m gonna editorialize for a second and say, Chem you are a delight and a gift and hearing from you makes my day, as it makes many others’ days!)
Hiya, noticed that you wanted to write but lacking on ideas, I’ve recently been really into surgery/experiment whump, with or without the whumpee being conscious. Hope this helps and love your blog!
Mm, I honestly didn’t have any ideas for this one...until it came to me in a dream. This is a good one. Y’all are gonna love it.
trigger warnings: medical horror
“You don’t have to speak to me,” Steve says softly. He’s sitting next to Bucky, facing him though Bucky is in profile. “I just need to know that you understand what’s happening.”
Bucky turns his eyes to Steve. He nods once.
“Okay, and so...” Steve looks to the screen, paused on the line of Cyrillic script announcing that the tape they are about to play is confidential. “...you consent to this. You want us to watch this?”
Wordlessly, Bucky grimaces. He makes a soft, hoarse sound in the back of his throat like he might say something. But the noise cuts off. He has nothing to say.
He nods, and Natasha steps forward to start the tape.
---
On screen, the doctor gives the time, the date, and the codename for this experiment: Project Ariel. Natasha translates quietly from the back.
The camera shifts and there’s a flash of Bucky’s body, laid out over the surgical table. The angle shifts again, just on Bucky’s neck, elongated under a bright light.
A scalpel dips into his neck, just over the spiny ridge of his trachea. There are murmurs from the doctors.
“They’re discussing making a hole, a stoma, for him to breathe through,” Natasha translates evenly. “Apparently the last time they did the procedure, the incision healed and--” She grimaces, and that’s a feat. “He didn’t have a way to breathe.”
Steve glances over to Bucky. He hadn’t moved when Steve suggest he leave the room, and his eyes are fixed on the screen now. This is all new information; he’s learning about himself just as they are.
“What kind of procedure?”
Natasha shakes her head. “I don’t recognize the word. Working off context clues here.”
Bucky makes a noise like clearing his throat. All eyes in the room turn to him, but he has nothing to say.
He has had nothing to say.
---
FOUR WEEKS AGO
Bucky is cleaving open a watermelon in the kitchen. Cole Porter’s “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” is playing on the radio. As he coaxes the knife through the rind, Bucky whistles along, bopping his head.
When they first brought Bucky to the compound, Steve assumed that his silence was a result of apprehension, an inability to cope with all the change foisted upon him.
The months have stretched on, and he’s remained totally mute. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t grunt, he doesn’t laugh.
But apparently he whistles. Even if it confuses Steve--this light demeanor despite Bucky’s mutism--it makes him smile.
Until the knife slips and splits open Bucky’s palm.
The spurt of blood makes Steve inhale sharply, a shocked gasp. But Bucky only wheezes. He doesn’t even cry out.
---
PRESENT
The doctors begin to remove tissue from Bucky’s vocal cords. Inside, Bucky is a shocking pink. Pretty and dewing with blood.
Then, it’s over. Within minutes. They
A doctor says something, and there is laughter. Natasha doesn’t translate, but Bucky flinches.
“I just don’t understand,” Steve says, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. He can’t watch anymore. “Did you have cancer? How could you get cancer. I don’t understand--”
“Steve,” Natasha says softly. This is her think about it slower, meathead tone.
Steve shoots her a sharp look, feeling peevish. “What?”
There’s a barking sound. It’s coming from Bucky. He makes it again, and Steve gets it this time. Gets what he can’t say.
The doctors on screen make another joke. This one about the dog that can’t bark. Natasha doesn’t translate.
TAT: Cold— Not totally sure if this is a thing since I’ve never mentioned it to anyone, but the theme today reminded of it so here goes: when I get news that someone close to me has passed away, I get really really cold no matter the temperature and it doesn’t really let up until I hit my breaking point and just cry uncontrollably
I’m guessing that’s just how your body processes shock. For me I get tingly and the hair on the back of my neck stands up on end as my heart beats away in my chest.
