After

after

cw: brief description of illness-related weight loss and a near-death illness experience

“Where’s B?” A hangs their coat on the hook and kicks off their work boots, moving closer to stand by the stove.

“In bed. Wanted to rest before dinner.” C’s bent over the table, a spread of papers and documents covering the surface.

“Let me guess. They tried to do too much today and wore themselves out.”

“What do you think?” C looks up from the desk, glasses perched on their nose. “I found them dead on their feet in the kitchen, blanket wrapped around their shoulders, trying to do the dishes. Had to practically carry them upstairs.”

It’s not a suprise, but it still makes A’s heart squeeze a bit. A few weeks ago, B had caught a bad cold which turned to pneumonia. For two weeks it had been touch and go, and though B had made it through the worst of the illness had passed, it had still left B weak, gaunt, and pale.

They weren’t bedridden any more, but they tired easily. The dark bruises still painted the skin under their eyes, and they were frequently chilled by the drafty winter air. A could tell they were so much thinner than they used to be, and they shuffled around like it hurt to move.

Yet still, B pushed themselves to do things, and A hated it.

“I’ll go up and check on them, see how they are.”

“Be gentle. You know they don’t like it when you tell them what they ought not to be doing,” C warned.

“Then they ought not to do it,” B called over their shoulders as they headed upstairs.

—————

B’s just waking up when they see A gazing at them from the door, a haunted look on their face.

“Don’t look at me like that.” B shrinks into the covers like a turtle retreating to its shell as A enters the bedroom.

“Like what?” A crosses the room to stir the fire in the stove.

“Like I’ll vanish if the breeze blows too hard.”

“B, you’re hardly more than skin and bones—I think I get to be concerned.”

B reflexively wraps their arms around their midsection, trying not to wince at being able to feel each rib. For weeks, they’d been so nauseous and delirious that all they could manage was a few sips of broth at a time. They were already lean to begin with—now, they could count bones they didn’t realize they had. Everything about them felt frail, shaky, insubstantial—so incredibly weak. They could hardly stand to catch glimpses of themselves in the mirror.

B stiffens as a shiver wracks their body—they can’t seem to stop shivering these days, a side effect of having no insulation and the persistent, low-grade fever the doctor said could remain for months afterward.

“Cold?”

B tugs the blanket tighter, willing it to warm their chilled body. “I’ll manage.”

A slowly closes in on B’s bed and takes a seat on the edge, putting a hand on B’s shoulder. B hates the feeling of someone so solid, warm, vital against their own frail body—a reminder of what they’re not. “I know the doctor said not to worry.”

“I’m getting better,” B insists.

“Yes, you are. But the keyword is getting better. And it’s going to take so much longer if you don’t pace yourself.”

B flinches at the words as if A hit them. “I know what I need.”

“I don’t know if you do—“

“See, I knew this would happen.” B’s voice cracks on the words. “You can’t just let me be. You have to tell me what I’m doing wrong, when you don’t know the first thing about what it means to lose your ability to do anything.”

“Because you won’t stop.” A’s voice is tight. “You push yourself and act like nothing happened, like you didn’t almost die—“

“You think I don’t know that?” B’s voice elevates. “You think I don’t feel the effects of what it did to me?”

“You know, but you won’t give yourself the chance to—“

“To hell with what you think you know. It didn’t happen to you—it happened to me!” B jackknifes to a sitting position, unable to hold themselves back.

“And I had to watch it happen!” A’s voice raises a degree, and they shoot off the bed, pacing before whirling back to face B. “You have no idea what it was like to see you half-mad with fever, thrashing about while we held you down and tried to cool you down while you screamed, or to hold you in my arms while you shook and you sobbed because you were so cold, or to hear you fight for every breath and beg the heavens for you to take just one more, all while being terrified you wouldn’t.”

The words hit B square in the chest. They thought you would die. A’s eyes are glassy, and B doesn’t know what to say, how to respond to something like that, and they take a deep breath to center themselves—

—only to be cut off as a coughing fit wracks their frame. They cough so long they see stars, but then they feel it—the warm, solid hand they hate so much on their back, rubbing soothing circles.

They couldn’t shake off the hand if they tried.

After it ends, B slumps back into the nest of pillows, breathing hard, chest aching from the exertion. “I hate this.”

“I know.” A’s whisper is soft. And it should make B mad, A thinking they know anything, but it doesn’t.

They sit in silence for several minutes, the anger fizzling out of both of them.

“Were you really that scared?” B says, when their breath stabilizes enough to speak.

“Yes.” A’s voice is quieter still, and B can catch the glint of the unshed tears in their eyes.

They’re quiet for much longer, and A speaks again.

“I just….I see you, and I just want to make everything okay for you and I can’t,” A says, voice cracking, a tear slipping out that’s quickly wiped away with a sleeve.

“That’s not your job, A. I’m not how I used to be, and I don’t know how to go back or if I even can,” B says, staring at the ceiling. “I can barely catch my breath, I’m always freezing, I look like a skeleton, and I can’t do anything without being exhausted. And it doesn’t make it better when you’re hovering over me, telling me I can’t do things when I already know.”

“I know.” A heaves a sigh. “And I’m sorry. I made it about me and my stuff instead of caring about you and I….I haven’t handled this well. None of it.”

“No, you haven’t.” B can’t stop the snarky retort that sneaks off their lips, and A’s mouth twitches with the faintest of smiles.

“Just…please. Know that we don’t expect you to be up and at it all of a sudden. Or ever. You don’t have to push yourself for our sakes.”

B sighs. “I know. And I’m sorry, scaring you like that.”

A takes in a shaky breath, and for the first time in the dim evening light, B can see that A’s a little rougher around the edges too—sleepless shadows under their eyes, hair that’s mussed and out of place, and a thousand -yard stare that wasn’t there before B got sick.

“Are you okay, A?”

A pauses for a moment. “Sleeping has been…hard. We were up most nights with you, C and I, for a long time, and even when you started getting better…” A shakes their head, as if to clear the cobwebs. “It’s like my body’s always trying to stay alert, in case you…in case something happens.”

B can’t even make a joke about that.

“Sometimes I’ll just…sit at your door and make sure you’re still breathing.”

“Okay, that’s weird.” B chucks a pillow at A, trying to shatter the heaviness around what A just confessed. To their credit, A yelps, and when B laughs, A smiles.

“But also sweet. And a little unhinged. Maybe both.” B says, propping themselves up on their elbows. “So what do you say if we both just give ourselves some time?”

A nods. “Some time.”

“Good.” B slumps down. “Now, that conversation took all the energy reserves I was saving for dinner, so I need another nap. You planning to take one with me, or are you going to watch me in my sleep again?”

“I think I can handle a nap,” A says, allowing themselves to tip over onto the covers.

When dinner time comes, it’s C who finds the pair fast asleep and curled into one another, A’s hand on B’s chest as they breathe the deep, even breaths of sleep.

We need to give winged whumpees more love. Consider:

As hurt, we've got...

Sick Whumpee struggles to sleep because their wings make lying down tricky. This makes them extra miserable when they're already sick, tired, and desperately need to sleep but just can't get comfortable.

When Whumpee gets badly injured on the field, it takes the whole team to pin them down so they don't thrash around and make it worse while Caretaker tries to treat them. They've got people holding their legs, arms, and wings, and as much as Whumpee screams and writhes in pain, they don't let go. While they try to pull their wing from their teammate's grip, Whumpee accidentally dislocates it.

Whumper restrains Whumpee and rips their feathers out, one by one... Or all at once, if they are so inclined.

Whumpee gets caught in some kind of trap that covers their wings in gunk, effectively pinning them to the ground as they desperately try to escape from Whumper.

Sick with a horrible fever, Whumpee feels freezing cold no matter how much they're actually burning up. They keep trying to wrap their wings around themself for warmth, but Caretaker keeps stopping them by spreads their wings out. Whumpee groans as they try to pull their wings back. Caretaker whispers an apology, but they still can't let Whumpee risk making their fever worse.

Whumpee gets knocked out in midair, plummeting to the ground completely helpless. Or slamming into every tree branch, rooftop, or clothes line on the way down.

And as comfort, there's...

Caretaker gives Whumpee a warm bath and massages the dried blood out of their feathers. By the time they're done, Whumpee is fast asleep.

Caretaker repositions the pillows and blankets on Whumpee's bed into a sort of nest, trying to help Whumpee get as comfortable as they can. Afterwards, they bundle Whumpee in a blanket, wrapping Whumpee in their own wings first to make the blanket fit around them better and provide some extra warmth.

After Whumpee gets badly injured, Caretaker bandages up their wings, trying to soothe them whenever they cry out from the pain. Unable to fly, Whumpee gets increasingly impatient with themself over the following days. Caretaker notices their frustration and gently encourages them to take it easy and let their wings rest.

Whumpee uses their wings as a blanket for both themself and Caretaker as they snuggle together on the couch.

When Whumpee can barely walk due to their injuries, the weight of their wings only adds to the struggle. Though they encourage Whumpee to stay in bed and rest as much as possible, Caretaker is happy to wrap their arm around Whumpee's waist and help them around the house. Whumpee rests a wing on Caretaker's shoulders as they make their way to the kitchen for some warm food.

Caretaker asks Whumpee to hold still so they can draw their wings in their sketchbook. They say it's so Whumpee can see what their wings look like without trying to bend backwards in a mirror, but there's a silent understanding between the two that it's because they're both craving some time together. Whumpee starts to feel stiff from holding their wings out, but they can't help but smile a bit at the way Caretaker leans closer to watch the light move across their feathers. Though Whumpee had never seen their wings as anything particularly beautiful, they set off a sort of sparkle in Caretaker's eyes.

And maybe some wing-related dialogue, such as...

Whumper grinned, picking up a pair of wire cutters. The tool glinted in the flickering torch light. "Well, you've gone and flown a little too close to the sun, didn't you, Whumpee? Not to worry, though. You'll never fly again, when I'm through with you."

"Oh, why won't you sing for me, my beautiful songbird?" Whumper drawled as they ran a finger along Whumpee's throat. Whumpee only glared back. If it weren't for the muzzle, they would have spat on Whumper's shoes. They squirmed in their restraints, leather straps binding their wings close to their back.

"Oh, you poor thing... What happened to your wings? C'mere, let me look at them..." Caretaker pulled Whumpee into an embrace, grabbing their wings with gentle hands. Their breath hitched as they noticed that, under the tattered feathers, Whumpee's injuries were even worse than they thought.

Caretaker slapped sick Whumpee's cheek, trying to wake them up. "Hey, Whumpee, um. Listen, y-you're fever's getting worse and I just need to know... Whatever you are, do you go to a doctor or a vet?" They weren't exactly prepared for this winged stranger to show up on their doorstep half-dead. While they might have normally found their dilemma a bit comedic, right now it was hard to laugh. Whumpee desperately needed medical help, but they had no idea where to take them.

"Ngh-stop! Let go of my wings, or so help me I'll---" Whumpee's protests turned into a scream as Caretaker poured antiseptic onto a cloth and pressed it against their gaping wound. Whumpee passed out from the pain, falling limp with tears still streaming down their face. As their vision faded, they heard Caretaker's whispered apologies.

"Six months for the feathers to grow back?!" Whumpee's lower lip started to quiver. "B-but... I can't fly..." They took a wing in their hands, running their fingers along the bare, bloody skin where their feathers had been ripped out. Caretaker reached out to put a hand on Whumpee's shoulder, but Whumpee flinched back. A tear rolled down their cheek, stinging them as it landed right on an open cut on their wing. "Nonononono, th-there's gotta be something you can do! Anything! Please... I want my feathers back."

Just... Wings. Yeah.

Thank you for the answers!! I actually meant to ask this anonymously but I forgot to so,,, uh whoops

👾, 🍳, and 🎨 for Simon and Archie?

thank u so much for the questions!!!! these are so silly and fun!!!

👾 — video games

simon wasn't a huge gamer when he was a kid, but has picked it up as a casual hobby. he likes games that don't require a lot of thinking and can just sort of be done passively-- think sims or stardew. however. he is insanely good at fighting and racing games. no one knows why. no one understands how. he just is. its a little terrifying

archie has been gaming since he could hold a remote. he grew up with a wii and nintendo 64 and then later got other consoles and games. he loves any kind of thriller/story/fighting game and he LOVES racing games. he is very good at them, but somehow simon beats him. every. single. time. it drives him insane.

🍳 — cooking

simon grew up helping his abuelita cook, and its a hobby he's come to really enjoy! he's very good at it, a lot of the measurements come intuitively to him and he can just Sense when theres too much or too little seasoning or exactly how much of an ingredient he needs. its a hobby that calms him down and grounds him, and he loves sharing it with the people he loves (COUGH COUGH ARCHER SCHULTZ.)

archie is. sort of a disaster in the kitchen. he's the type that somehow messes up boiling water. its honestly kind of tragic because of his metabolism issues-- he needs to eat a lot but he literally can't cook to save his life. luckily for him, he has a Special Friend that is both willing to cook for him and willing to patiently teach him how as well

🎨 — art

simon is a man of many skills, but drawing is not one of them. it just doesn't compute to him, he can never figure out how to get the image in his head onto paper and this has proven difficult in his med studies. his notes are legible SOLELY to him because the diagrams are genuinely indecipherable.

archie on the other hand LOVESSSS to doodle. he loves to draw simon, himself, the cats that live in the alley by his apartment, flowers, trees, literally anything that sparks happiness for him. he used to get in trouble for doodling in class, but it really just helped him focus and its a silly little pastime for him!

thank you so much for the questions these are so cute n silly!!!!!!!!

I MADE A WHUMP EVENT: get ready for July folks

welcome to the Whumperless Whump Event of July! for your sickfic, situational, and completely apersonal whump needs--comfort included, of course.

Image transcripts, tagging rules, and guidelines under the cut!

RULES

Any and all art types allowed (GIFs, drawings, music, writing, etc.)

No AI generated content allowed

OCs and Fandom works alike are welcome :)

Trigger and content tags required, even if the prompt explicitly requires the content (eg. Vomiting still needs the emetophobia tag)

NSFT and NSFW are allowed, if tagged appropriately. This blog will not reblog them, as minors do follow it. However, you're still free to write as you please :)

If enough interest is shown, I will make an Ao3 collection

Side note: please let me know if there's anything I can do to make this post or event more accessible. Should I put the image transcripts on the ID too? Is the formatting causing issues? What can I do?

This is not a contest, just an event. The only awards will be announcements for people who completed the whole darn thing. My entries will not receive any announcements or awards, because I'm hosting

TAGGING

Tag with, per example: #whumperless whump event day 1; #whumperless whump event; and (optional) #whumperless whump event day 1: alcohol as a sanitizer

Tag me (@whump-kia) please! If not, I may not see it or be able to reblog it!

If desired, tag the medium you used

IMPORTANT:

Trigger tag and content warn (including nsfw/nsft)

If posting early, tag with #wwe early entry. If posting late, tag with #wwe late entry. If posting just for fun, no need to tag these!

There are NO OTHER RULES. Do one prompt! Do seven! Do 'em all! Repeat the same prompt six days in a row! Switch them around and do them all out of order! Post them eight months after the event is over! Finish the prompt list early! Write one long-ass story that deals with every prompt or do a one-sentence drabble for each one! Recommend your favorite scenes regarding the prompt! Write, draw, sing, play music, make playlists, do fic recs or show recs or episode recs or book recs, fucking crochet or something! FOLLOW THE VIBE. DO WHAT'S FUN.

Prompts (text):

Emergency First Aid: Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.”

Does your insurance cover this?: Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

Like a record, baby: Vertigo / Struggling to stand / “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?”

It's every day bro: Chronic pain / Massage / “I'm used to it.”

Stealing my breath (give it back): Wheezing / Light-headed / “I'll count, you just breathe.”

Summer is a curse: Heat Stroke / Panting / “Why don't we… find some shade, quick?”

Accidental Cryotherapy: Falling through a frozen lake / Hypothermia / “Hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake.”

Put your head on my shoulder: Migraine / Light & Sound Sensitivity / “I can close the curtains…”

White and red handkerchief: Coughing up blood / Can't speak / “You just can't shake that cough, can you?”

Your work is never finished: Forced to work while ill / Workplace emergency / “...sit down, I'm calling HR.”

A minor annoyance: Stuffy nose / Hate to be sick / “I'm fine, I can work.”

It's going down (I'm yelling timber): Building collapse / Trapped under rubble / “I can't move my legs.”

It's just a pebble: Avalanche / Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.”

Lay down your sword: Fighting back a cold / Cuddling / “Just let yourself be sick so you can get better.”

I'm going down (you're yelling timber): Passing out / Exhaustion / “I've got you, let's sit down, I've got you.”

Say goodbye to filters: Half-conscious / Delirious / “You would never say that in your right mind…”

In hot water: Dangerously high fever / Cool baths / “We have to get that number down somehow.”

I don't see it: Hallucinations / Fever dreams / “It's just a nightmare. You're safe.”

The whump morning after: Tending to injuries / Domestic hurt comfort / “Let's check the bandages, okay?”

It's not fun if you're panicking: Stuck in an elevator / Claustrophobia / “Get me out.”

Where's the exit: Lost / Stuck in the wilderness / “Surely someone will notice we're gone.”

Better out than in: Nervous Stomach / Vomiting / “I got your hair, it's fine.”

Well, that doesn't taste right: Accidentally poisoned / Allergic reaction / “My tongue feels like bees, is that normal?”

Be one with the fish: Drowning / Rescue Breaths / “Why did you think that was a good idea?!”

We didn't start the fire: Severe burns / Running into flames / “I know it hurts. Breathe.”

That's no barn spider: Venomous bite / Arachnophobia / “You'll be okay, we can help.”

What's your name again?: Concussion / Temporary Amnesia / “I don't remember what happened to me.”

Nothing behind the eyes: Fully unconscious / Force feeding / “It's just me, go back to sleep.”

Wrong place, wrong time: Robbery / One of many hostages / “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.”

I don't mean to get emotional: Fear / Breaking point / “I can't stop crying, I'm sorry--”

Only way out is through: Tunnel collapse / Accidental Journey / “We can't just sit here and wait.”

ALTERNATES:

Seizure

Choking

Withdrawal

Mugged

Wild animal attack

Hangover

Strain/sprain

Broken bone

Bloody nose

Panic attack

okay i have a proposition.

i have this idea that i can't get out of my head but i have a feeling it might not be in character/plausible so feel free to change it or message me if it is But

is there any scenario where a glitch to morri's personality systems would like. make them act completely out of character but not necessarily in a distressed way?? like they either become super happy and affectionate or like sad and weepy or even just act vaguely drunk/silly? i know its kind of a weird ask and its not really whumpy but i just think it would be so silly to see that side of them and jj's reaction to it ( ๑˘ω˘ )

feel free to make it whumpy if you can too! i'd be very interested to see that, but either way i have another whumpy ask ill send in a bit!

bug. bug your MIND. okay this one is short but incredibly sweet. and it is not beta'd because I was so excited to write it and I love it a lot so thank you for the ask bug I dedicate this one to you!!!

--

"What on earth are you doing."

"Hugging you." That's all Morrigan says in response. Their arms are wrapped around JJ's shoulders from behind the couch, snug and warm, and their hair is infuriatingly tickling his left ear where their chin rests. "Do you want me to stop?"

JJ lets out a short breath. He is very, very confused. "...Uh, no, you don't have to stop, just. Since when did you get cuddly?"

"Am I being cuddly?" Their head tilts, nudging his ear. "I'm just hugging you."

"Yeah, I noticed that. Is there any particular reason?"

Morrigan stops to think. It's strange, hearing the soft hum of their breath behind him, as close as they are. Morri isn't touchy, and he doesn't mind respecting their space, so whatever the fuck this is, it's nothing short of seriously freaky.

"You seem... stressed." Morrigan releases him, and maneuvers to sit next to him. The couch dips, and they fold their hands. "I want to help."

"Stressed? I mean, maybe. I just got the new assignment, so I'm a little tense, but..."

Morrigan leans their head on his shoulder.

He stops in his tracks. "Morri?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you... okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you? Your shoulder is very tense."

JJ barely scoffs. "Yeah. You're laying on it. Forgive me if that's a bit surprising."

"It's supposed to make you relax," they say, frowning and sitting up. "Could I hold your hand instead?"

"Uh--?"

"Or maybe..."

Morrigan then lays fully down and rests their head in his lap, all while JJ holds both hands up in complete and utter bewilderment. What on earth is happening?

"Woah, Morri. Hey. Snap out of it. Who are you, and what have you done to my robot?"

"Not your robot," Morrigan corrects neutrally, "and I'm trying to help you. Physical contact is supposed to help stress levels. Your heart rate is increasing, though, am I doing it wrong?"

"Okay, Baymax." JJ gently pushes them upright, and holds them by the shoulders. "Do me a favor and run a system diagnostic."

"Copy."

Their eyes blink rapidly. The left one shutters into a solid yellow, the color oddly cold for its shade. Morrigan goes motionless for several seconds.

Eventually, they jolt. "Oh."

"Oh?"

One eye blinks as they readjust. "Small bug. I... am overreacting."

JJ tilts his head, confused. See, normally, an 'overreaction' ends in several hours of dissociation or trying to coax down his friend from committing murder. This doesn't seem like an overreaction. It's strange, but nothing close to what he's used to. "To what?"

"You."

"Excuse me?"

Morrigan takes a breath, flinching back. "Sorry. I'm sorting it. You're registering as a target."

JJ tries to relax. "That is a lot more threatening than the hug you gave me."

"No, I was trying to--" They frown, frustrated. "You're stressed. I'm reading it as a threat. I tried to calm you down. Make you less of a threat. Best option was to hug you."

"Oh." He nods, and breathes out, doing everything he can to make himself look harmless. "Makes sense. Are you still reading me as a threat?"

Their eyes glaze over, the way they do when they're looking at something only they can see. "Yes."

"Want to fix that?"

Morrigan's eyes focus immediately. "What?"

JJ opens his arms in an invite. He wiggles his eyebrows. "Sort out the bug with some cuddles, Morri, c'mon! I give great hugs."

"You are..." Their gaze is captured by something, for just a moment. They sigh, heavily, and lean in for the hug. "...an absolute moron," they mutter into his shirt.

"Hey. Is it helping?"

Morrigan settles against their chest, curled up adorably. Their eyelids flutter shut, no doubt working through whatever line of code snapped in their systems. It'll take a while to fix it all. "I suppose."

"Then I'm a genius."

"Shush."

"Sort it out, cuddle bug."

"Never call me that again."

(JJ wouldn't mention it to anyone. But Morrigan enters stasis there, in his arms. And even if the couch is less than comfortable, and he has a mission early in the morning on the other side of town, he doesn't move an inch.)

(Because Morrigan, despite everything, is very very warm. And JJ wouldn't let go for the world.)

--

this is tooth-rotting fluff and I Don't Care it was SO FUN TO WRITE so I hope this fulfills your ask!!! thank you bug!!!!

new ocs!!!

hi gang!!!!!!!!!!!! i've been hinting at more characters for a bit and HERE THEY ARE!!! i might try to use the whumperless event to intro them a bit more, but if anyone has any drabble requests until then feel free to send em in! and if you have any clarifying questions, PLEASE ask them!!!

as you can tell, i love westerns. i love cowboys. i NEEDED a cowboy/wild west setting to whump in so i made these guys (yes i am aware their color palletes are just simon and archie in a different font. i am a one trick pony.)

sidenote: rdr2 fans, you're gonna love this (these two are practically rdr2 ocs) (′ꈍᴗꈍ‵)

onto the boys (men?? we'll go with men.) this post is embarassingly long. strap in guys.

picrew here (though i couldn't find one that captured their looks the way i envisioned.... sigh i need to start drawing again. anyways, i included some outfits to go along with them!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

eugene (gene) delaney

age: 28

height: 6'2

occupation: deputy sherriff (his town is called Whiteridge)

description: gene is. well, for lack of better words, he has a stick up his ass. that is to say that he is very particular about things, namely the safety of his town and the activities that go down in it. he cares very much about keeping the streets safe from gangs and criminals because his mother was killed by a gang when he was just a child and he knows the dangers of having bad people run around unrestrained. also, the sherriff he works under is crooked and useless, so gene is left with a lot of responsibility in terms of managing Whiteridge. he's strong-willed and intelligent, but very morally conflicted about many things. he wants whats best for his people, but is controlling everything with an iron grip really the best way to go about it?

here is his outfit that you'll usually see him in!

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cassidy "silver" mccoy

age: 27

height: 6'0

occupation: outlaw/one of "montana's boys"

description: cassidy gets his nickname "silver" from his silver tongue. he's been known to talk his way out of death more times than he can count. he runs with a gang lead by a man named welles montana, and he is one of montana's most respected men. he was taken in by montana when he was very young, and believes he owes him his life. he trusts him blindly and is convinced evetything he does is for a good cause, even if sometimes it's questionable. he greatly enjoys his job and loves seeing the fruits of his labor in the form of hungry kids getting to eat for the first time in weeks, or single mothers able to afford a new dress. he did not grow up wealthy, so what he does is very personal. despite wanting to appear smooth and charismatic, he is a deeply feeling person that sort of lets his emotions rule him.

here is his typical outfit!

a bit about montana's gang: they lead robin hood-esque type heists where they exclusively take from the wealthy to give to the poor, but their methods are often violent and destructive. also, montana himself is not a very good man but cassidy doesn't necessarily know that. montana is sort of leading a double life where he spends part of his time with his gang and the other part with the wealthy assholes they're trying to take down. none of his gang know he is getting the best of both worlds and betraying them all. he's very manipulative and acts as a whumper in this story. cassidy is at his beck and call, and follows orders often without question.

also, there is a rival gang lead by a man named o'malley. they are your typical old western gang with no strict morals, sort of just trying to get the most money they can. members of o'malley's gang act mostly as whumpers as they are much more harmful and destructive than montana's boys, and have it out for cassidy specifically.

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their relationship/more background info:

cassidy and gene have a bit of a cat and mouse thing going on. cassidy often pulls heists with his boys in plain sight and since gene is the deputy, he's the one sent to bring him into custody. the two spend quite a bit of time together because of it. (cassidy is an escape artist. he is never locked up for more than a few days. gene hates this.) to gene, cassidy is infuriating. he believes you can't fight fire with fire and that cassidy is just causing more problems with his violent approach to "helping others"

cassidy on the other hand, loves to tease and provoke gene. when they first meet, it's while cassidy is locked up in a jail cell. he clocks how "stuck up" gene is, and sees it as a challege to try and piss of gene as much as he can and get away with it. he knows and he and gene actually have very similar goals: protect the people that can't protect themselves, but gene's approach feels too slow and ineffective to cassidy. still, he respects his dedication and never actively wants to cause him harm. regardless, cassidy's loyalty to montana is stronger than any respect he has for gene (AT FIRST), so the two have an enemies-to-friends-to-lovers type thing going on

as for a silly detail, even though the two men are less than fond of eachother, their horses are infatuated with eachother. they seriously have the biggest crushes on eachother, and make it known that they are upset when they have to be seperated.

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BONUS here are their respective horses:

this is calliope, gene's mare. she is sweet as sweet can be, very gentle and extremely, totally spoiled by gene.

this is scotch, cassidy's gelding. he is opinionated and stubborn and only answers to cassidy (and even then, it's only about half the time)

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thank you so much for listening to be ramble! i plan to have at least one fic of these guys during the event, maybe more, but i'm honestly so excited for them. i've been wanting to make ocs like them for a LONG time and here they finally are!! i hope you all enjoy!

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