#wij23day9

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #E2: Stay With Me

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery, comfort, nightmares, whumper turned whumpee turned caretaker, whumpee turned caretaker turned whumpee, vampire caretaker

Whumpmas in July Day 9: "Stay with me"

this is a flash-forward taking place about two years out from the present arc! made as a sort of follow-up to A Nice Thought.

be warned that this piece has... ⚠️spoilers⚠️ for the present arc! it's nothing i haven't hinted at before in ask-answers though, and this series is non-chronological anyway.

-

Kane was up and running the second he heard the scream.

He flung the basement door open, dashing up the stairs as fast as he could without breaking them. Up, up, down the hall, another door-

No one else was there. Jim was just lying in his bed, trying to catch his breath, the room dimly illuminated by the plain night light he always kept on.

Just a nightmare.

"Are you alright?" Kane asked, stepping back into the doorway. He knew how Jim was with nightmares by now, that his presence wouldn't be welcomed. "I was just- I can go."

Jim looked up at him with tired, scared eyes. "Stay with me? Please?" he asked, his voice small.

Kane was surprised, but he didn't need to be told twice. He was by Jim's side in an instant, the bed creaking slightly as he sat down on the soft blanket next to him. "Of course. Whatever you need."

"Thanks, man." Jim stared up at the ceiling, eyes wet with tears as he tried to control his shaky breathing.

"You don't usually scream," Kane noted, concerned.

Jim gave him a weak laugh and a nudge on the arm. "Guess I'm turning into you, huh?"

Kane rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile a bit, too. At least Jim felt well enough to joke around. "I don't even do that as much anymore." It'd happened about once a month when Jim first took him home, but by now, it was down to two or three months between. He'd almost never heard Jim do it, maybe twice in nearly three years here. Not counting back in vampire territory, of course.

"Yeah, you do." Jim scooted closer, resting his head on Kane's hand.

"Do you want me to hold you?" Kane blurted out. He regretted it as soon as he said it. How stupid, Jim was a grown man, he didn't need-

Jim didn't even hesitate. "Yeah."

Well, if he was agreeing...

Kane scooped the man into his arms, leaning back against the headboard. Jim rested his head against Kane's chest, tears leaking into his shirt. He must be so scared...

"I won't hurt you. Never again," Kane reminded him.

"Wasn't you this time," Jim mumbled. "It was your brother."

Ah. "Well, he certainly can't hurt you."

"I know. My dumbass sleeping-brain's the one that doesn't." Jim tapped the side of his head and sighed. "You know, it's stupid, but I actually used to- ah, forget it."

Kane pushed down the urge to question him. This was about making Jim comfortable, no matter how curious he was. "Alright," he agreed.

But Jim had never been one for holding his tongue, and continued without encouragement. "Back then, back at your old place, after- like during the last two years especially? I used to fantasize that you'd hold me. Like if I asked on my birthday or something. You were nice on my birthdays. I just wanted someone to, and you were the only one there." He turned his face away, embarrassed by his own admission.

Kane would never stop regretting how he'd treated Jim, but this was a particular knife between the ribs, hot and silver and twisting. He clutched Jim a little closer. "I'm sorry. I'm glad I can hold you now," he whispered.

Jim turned back to look at him. "Would you have said yes?"

He didn't answer for a bit. He had to think about it, had to give Jim the real answer, not whatever he assumed Jim wanted to hear. He'd been getting better at that. So much had changed, it was hard to put himself in his past self's shoes, the man who would hurt Jim without a second thought.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe. Depending on my mood, I could have gone either way. I can tell you this for certain, though: even if I'd said no, I would have wanted to, for the same reason as you."

That earned him a small smile. "Yeah, that tracks."

"I can stay here the whole night, if you want," Kane offered. He glanced at the window: the blinds were already closed. He was okay. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. I've been just as bad."

Jim was well-aware. He'd stayed with Kane some nights, too.

"Yeah, okay."

They laid silently like that for a while, the crickets softly chirping in the night. Jim worried about inconveniencing Kane- there was still a layer of fear to it, even after all this time, even after he was the one who asked Kane to stay. Like he would be judged as badly-behaved and requiring discipline.

But Kane didn't do anything. It was just nice.

"It's kind of pathetic," Jim muttered. "He barely even got me, you know? C or Chewie or Graham or whatever the hell he's calling himself now was with him for eight years. I shouldn't be having the stupid nightmares and needing to be held when I'm a goddamn thirty-six year old man and he barely even got me."

"He's back to C again right now, I think, but he told me he's thinking about trying Graham again last time we spoke. I think he might really stick with it next time," Kane mused.

"Good for him." Jim always just asked him what his name was that month whenever he said hi to the guy so he wouldn't get it wrong.

"You know, I think of thirty-six as rather young," Kane continued. "Most humans probably would-"

Jim laughed. "Yeah, 'cause you're old as shit, grandpa."

Kane sighed, his chest rising and falling deeply under Jim's head. "Yes, I'm up there, so you can't go saying you're too old to be getting frightened when I do the same thing at one-hundred and eighteen. As I said, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Besides... I don't think I helped things, as far as your reaction went. You already had nightmares, the face just changed."

"Well, you're helping things now."

Kane didn't have a rebuttal to that one. "You should try and get some sleep. I won't let anything happen to you."

He was safe. He was safe. Jim just had to remember that. Couldn't get much safer than with a vampire protecting him. "Okay. Thanks."

"Any time." Kane began softly humming a tune, a song Jim didn't recognize, but one that soothed him anyway.

He slept peacefully through the rest of the night.

-

stay tuned, the big one's coming wednesday.

taglist in reblog!

event: @whumpmasinjuly

#kane and jim #whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day9 #whump #vampire caretaker #recovery whump #comfort #nightmares #whumper turned caretaker #whumpee turned caretaker #caretaker turned whumpee #my writing #whump writing

[aceofwhump]

Whumpmas in July - Day 9 - "Stay With Me"

Criminal Minds 9x24, Graceland 3x08, Hawaii Five-0 8x10, Lucifer 5x15, Merlin 5x13, The Crossing 1x06, When Calls The Heart 3x09

#wij23day9 #whumpmasinjuly2023 #whumpmas in july #whumpedit #my gifs #mod post #stay with me

[callaeidae3]

WhumpmasinJuly 2023: Day 9 "Stay with me"

A scene from the end of my WIP novel - this is one of my favourite scenes ~

#wij23day9 #whumpmasinjuly2023 #whump art #hurt comfort #greying out #semiconscious #kyle kindall #yuuki takahashi #whump aftermath #traditional and digital art #kindall k series #kk4

[whumpinthepot]

@whumpmasinjuly 2023, Day 9 “Stay with me”

#wij23day9 #Whumpmasinjuly2023 #whump meme #whumpmasinjuly #whumpee #whumper #meme #breezy’s post

[kira-the-whump-enthusiast]

Day 9 - Stay with Me

Synopsis: Jakao tries to help a starving prisoner in the prison he works at. A prisoner that may or may not be a vampire :)

Also note, Jakao uses he/she pronouns interchangeably.

Content: Vampire whumpee, fantasy prison setting, caretaker pov, starvation, begging, muzzle/gag, implied silver burns

Tagging: @whump-in-the-closet @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @eric-the-bmo @befuddled-calico-whump

—

Jakao’s been hearing rumors about the vampire in the prison’s basement. Some prisoner of war captured a couple of years ago, kept in max security for his crimes.

He’s never believed those rumors. For one thing, Jakao had actually been assigned to the basement where she was pretty sure the vampire resided, and the security wasn’t any higher than the rest of the prison. In fact, it was worse. Half the time, he was the only guard roaming the halls, footsteps echoing in lonesome.

It wasn’t like this post was particularly enviable, anyways. No one wanted to be the one to guard a captured, angry vampire. But considering the security, and the complete lack of any blood delivered to the single occupied cell, she doubted that there was even a vampire here in the first place.

Well, Jakao hadn’t seen any blood, but he hadn’t seen any normal rations either. Not even water. She would doubt that the basement cell block was occupied at all, if not for the soft crying she sometimes heard from inside one of the cells when she passed by.

Gods, they’re not starving him, are they?

Jakao would really not rather think of that at all, but the lonely halls were suited for nothing but thoughts. And he was embarrassed to admit it, even to himself—but he'd been formulating an idea in his head.

It was utterly stupid. There was no way it would work.

She had let a lot of things slide in her life because she didn't have the power to change them. What's another one to add to the pile?

But this. Maybe he could help, just a little.

Because it was obvious that the prisoner in the basement wasn't getting any food, and Jakao couldn't just let him starve. Whatever the reason for it—part of the punishment, trying to torture information out of him, it just felt so needlessly cruel.

And Jakao was so tired of cruelty.

The warden, Eberhardt, always ordered her to go to break until called back when he came down to the basement cell block. She could only take a stab at the dark for his reasons. He doubted that they were benevolent.

She never liked sitting around and waiting that much. That was what he told himself as he made the trip down to the guards' infirmary. As she looked around to wait for the nurses to avert their gazes. As he opened the icebox and snuck a bag of blood for transfusions into his pocket.

This was horribly stupid. Jakao didn't even know if there even was a vampire in the prison basement. She'd be fired if she was caught—or worse. But he never liked this job or this place anyways. And if she was punished for trying to help someone—so be it.

He took a couple of pieces of fruit and a bottle of water with him as he returned to his post. There wasn't much to do except watch the empty halls. And watch she did—trying to shake the nerves.

It wasn't a big deal. It was only a whim, nothing serious. It was only everything.

He sighed and fiddled with the keyring in his hand. Wasn’t like there was any going back. So she put key to lock and opened the door to the only occupied cell.

And inside, Jakao was greeted with… nothing. Only silence and darkness.

No, that wasn’t right—in the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of movement. Someone in the corner scrambling to kneel. Jakao cautiously entered the cell to get a better look, opening the door fully to let in the bright light of the hallway.

She… almost wished she hadn’t.

A glint of sharp fangs in the cold light.

His worst fears. Confirmed.

So the rumors were true. There was a vampire here. But he didn’t look the least bit angry. A little feral, maybe, with his long nails and tangled hair. But no, more than anything, he looked… defeated. Terrified.

The vampire was backed into a corner as far as he could go, whimpered and shook as she closed the door behind her and approached him. He was cradling broken ribs that clearly protruded from his stick-thin figure.

He was starving, that was for sure. But Jakao had no doubt the vampire wouldn’t attack him—there was a ring gag strapped to his head, keeping his jaw fully open and immobile. It seemed uncomfortable, to say the least. She hoped it wasn’t silver.

Jakao knelt in front of the vampire, keeping his movements slow and calm. Tried to shape her voice into something gentle.

“…Are you hungry?”

There were so many questions he would rather ask. Like what happened to you or what did you do to deserve this, but there was no real way for the vampire to answer.

He tensed up at her question like he was expecting a trick.

“I’m… guessing yes, then,” Jakao remarked to fill the silence. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the pouch of blood.

In a flash of movement, the vampire lunged towards him, and Jakao flinched away, instinctively expecting an attack—

But there wasn’t anything to fear. The vampire was bowing in front of her, staring at her with silent pleas.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I wasn't gonna not give you this,” Jakao murmured, tossing the blood at the starving vampire.

He caught it in his claws and tore into the plastic with striking speed. In a moment, the bag was drained despite the muzzle and the vampire was licking stray droplets of blood off the floor.

"Oh…" Jakao started, but he declined to continue when the vampire looked up at him with tears in his eyes. She wished she had brought more blood for him.

The vampire lowered himself into another bow, but this one was different. Reverent. He looked up at Jakao like he was a saint, a savior. No one had ever looked at her that way before—and she faltered.

He didn't like it. She wasn't anybody special.

"Look—um, sit up, will you?" Jakao requested awkwardly. The vampire eagerly straightened up, still on his knees.

"What's your name?" he asked. She held out her hand to the vampire. "You can write it on my palm."

The vampire started to reach out but he hesitated.

"It's okay," Jakao whispered.

With shaky fingers, he started to trace letters on Jakao's palm.

Soren

"That's a lovely name," he remarked with a smile. Soren looked away.

Soren. Jakao would remember that. The name was vaguely familiar—he recognized it from somewhere…

She needed to find that out and figure out a way to help Soren further. No matter what he did—did he deserve to rot in a cell like this? Jakao wasn't blind. He saw the scars, the bruises, the burns. Something horrible was going on here.

"I have to go," she told Soren. "But I'll be back, I swear it." Jakao started to stand up, but in a flash of frenzied desperation—the vampire grabbed his hand.

A wave of panic hit her, chest tightening. "Wait—"

But Soren didn't attack him or try to bite. He was only tracing letters into her palm.

Stay with me

Soren was crying freely now. Let go of Jakao's hand and curled in on himself.

"I'm sorry," he replied. She was close to tears herself. "But I won't abandon you here. I promise, I promise."

Soren nodded, and Jakao started for the door, heart heavy in his chest.

She knew that he didn't believe her.

—

AN: Don't worry Jakao comes back Soren isn't lonely forever <2

#whump #whump writing #vampire whump #starvation #begging #muzzled #are those too vague lmao #wij23day9 #whumpmasinjuly2023 #oc soren #oc jakao #my ocs <2 #my writing

[little-peril-stories]

"stay with me"

Guess what, I 100% thought I didn't have anything for this prompt. But I do! And it's new-to-you!

If you've read The Prince of Thieves, then all you need to know is that it follows from Ending B, "it ends with a promise," not the other ending.

If you're just scrolling and seeing this, these two (Will and Bree) were in prison and tortured together! Yay! But they're both out now! Yay! Oh, and Jamie is Will's older brother, and Baden Hatchett is the constable who was Really Mean to them both. Those two characters are only mentioned.

And if you're wondering why she's all upset about what she's wearing, the time period is vaguely 1800s (pick your fave decade and run with that).

"stay with me"

Words: 848 | The Prince of Thieves masterlist

Contents: angst, post-nightmare stress

How long she stood in the cold, she wasn’t sure. It couldn’t have been terribly long; snow still blanketed the ground, and it wasn’t long before her toes and fingers began to sting. But the sky was clear, and stars glittered above, gazing back down at her as if they knew she watched them, too. You have some choices to make, they seemed to say.

As if she didn’t already know that.

So many nights in the past year, she had looked up at the sky and remembered another night when she stared at the stars, balancing on a rickety stool, entire body screaming in pain, choking out a description of the beauty in the sky above, certain it would be the last time she would ever behold it.

Her digits grew numb, and finally she turned to go back inside. She didn’t truly want to be back indoors, about to face a day of labour that would be both exhausting and monotonous, but the cold was too much to bear. At least working kept her warm.

She faltered to a stop moments after stepping through the doorway.

“Will?”

Will Wardrew, the last person she was expecting to see sitting alone in the dark, deserted tavern sitting area.

His head jerked up at the sound of her entering. “…Bree?”

“What are you doing out here?” Her stomach twisted. Part of her mind stuttered and stalled on the fact that it was still early, and that she should still be in bed, and that if she was to be out here talking to one of the tavern guests, she should be dressed in more than merely a shawl and nightdress. Another part of her mind, though, fixated on the arguably more important question:

Why was he sitting alone in the dark?

“Um...good morning.” It sank in that he had not answered her question. “Are you all right?”

He nodded, silent, and Bree knew.

“What’s wrong?” Still, he said nothing, and a shiver ran down her spine. “Will. What’s wrong?”

She took a few steps toward him, and that’s when she saw it—the flinch. Halting her steps, she squinted through the dark, trying to discern what she could of Will’s expression. “Can I come near?”

At first, she was certain he would ignore her again. After a moment, however—after a long, shuddering breath, Will said, “Yeah.”

Bree forgot, as she inched closer, trying to keep her footsteps soft, that her fingers and toes were frozen. Forgot that she was quite indecent and that she was already on thin ice with her bosses. Forgot that soon Stella and Celeste would wake up, and any minute now, they’d come downstairs to ready the tavern for the day, and the first thing they would see when they did was her sitting alone in the dark with one of their guests, scandalously underdressed and shivering.

“What happened?” she asked, keeping her voice soft, and for the first time, Will glanced up to meet her gaze. “Why are you down here? Couldn’t you sleep?”

“I was sleeping.”

Every syllable sounded like it pained him—wrenched from behind tightly clamped, unwilling teeth. It took her a moment to understand what he meant.

Before she could say anything, he kept talking.

“Do you ever…” Will swallowed, and Bree watched his throat bob in and out. The grey light of morning seeped through the windows, and as it did, the unfurling dawn threw the beads of sweat on his brow into sharper relief. “Do you sometimes…”

He looked away and fell silent.

“Do I ever have nightmares?” she guessed.

His hazel eyes didn’t meet hers again as he nodded; instead, he squeezed them tightly shut.

“Sometimes,” she said. Goosebumps tickled her arms as she watched him, waiting for a response. He sat so still—like a statue, the picture of sorrow immortalized in chiseled stone. Minutes seemed to ooze past, agonizingly slow. “Why don’t I go find—”

Jamie, she was about to finish, until his hand shot out and grasped hers.

“Please don’t leave.”

Bree froze.

“Will,” she said, trying to quell her rising panic, “I don’t know how to—”

“Please. Don’t leave. Please stay.”

Had she ever heard his voice sound like this? It was difficult to remember now. Her mind had trained itself at first to concentrate only on the memories that brought her the most joy or the most comfort—moments when Will had faced Baden Hatchett with nothing but humour and defiance and spite, when he’d shown himself again and again to be the bravest person she had ever met.

Then, when those memories hurt too much to recall, Bree had tried not to think of Will Wardrew at all.

All but impossible now that he was sitting there, shaking and distraught, right in front of her.

“Please,” she said, “I really don’t think I’m the best person to—”

“You’re the only—”

His voice cracked and stopped. The pressure on her fingers lightened.

“Sorry,” Will said. “You should—It’s fine.”

Without another word, he pulled his hand away.

#wij23day9 #whumpmasinjuly2023

[kats-kradle]

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Wayne Family Adventures (Webcomic)

Relationship: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Batfamily Members

Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick is going through it, what is ‘it’? well you see ‘it’ is the vague plot point, Salt and Light

Summary:

“There you are,” Bruce said, not entirely sure what else to say. Dick didn’t say anything. One hand came up to wipe at his face. “We’ve been looking for you. We were all worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry anyone,” Dick murmured hoarsely. “I just… I couldn’t… I couldn’t pretend to be okay tonight.”

Written for Whumpmas in July Day 9: “stay with me”

#whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day9 #fics #my writing #batman #batfam #dick grayson #bruce wayne #whump

[set-phasers-to-whump]

Day 9: Creation Prompt - "Stay with me"

whumpee: peter sutherland

fandom: the night agent

hi here's another night agent fic! sorry it's a bit short but i was Employed for longer than expected today and consequently cut down on this a bit. i am still kinda pleased w it though, hope you enjoy! also note that this is set pretty soon after the events of the show.

She’s curled up on the couch, idly flipping through a magazine, when she gets the call. She doesn’t recognize the number, but she knows the area code. 202. Washington, DC. 

Peter?

It’s a little soon for him to be calling, she thinks. She’s no expert, but she’d been expecting him to be in his super-secret undisclosed location for a month, maybe. Three weeks at the least. A week and a half just seems too short for him to already be back in the country. 

She picks up anyway. The call could be a myriad of other things, and if that thing turns out to be bad, well, better to know now. Anyway, it’d take even the most determined hacker well over two days of continuous work to find her location from this phone. She’s safe, relatively speaking. 

“Hello?”

“Is this Rose Larkin?” She doesn’t know the voice. It sounds female, professional. 

“Who is this?”

“This is Dr. Grosse from Sibley Memorial Hospital in Washington, DC.”

Fuck. This…can’t possibly be good. 

“Yes?”

“I’m calling because you’re listed as the emergency contact for Peter Sutherland. He was brought into our hospital earlier today and is currently in surgery.”

Her heart is pounding. A thousand questions run through her mind - how bad is it, what is it, when had he made her his emergency contact - and she can’t figure out which to ask first. 

“Is he…”

“He’s in surgery. I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that at the moment.”

“Okay…okay, thanks.”

Rose hangs up. 

An hour later she’s on a flight across the country, fervently hoping that she’s not too late. 

--

She arrives in DC to good news - the doctor had called her back while she’d been in the air, and had left a message informing her that Peter is out of surgery and doing well, as of - she checks the voicemail’s timestamp - an hour ago. 

She calls back immediately, already in the backseat of a cab, needing to have the words spoken to her in real time. Never mind that she won’t really believe them until she actually sees him. 

She bursts through the hospital doors like a whirlwind and makes a beeline for the front desk. 

“I’m here to see Peter Sutherland,” she says, slapping her drivers’ license onto the faux marble surface. 

She illegibly signs the visitors’ log, illegibly prints her name on the paper nametag, and is led to the room by the same doctor she’d spoken to on the phone, who says that Peter is still fine but sleeping. 

The doctor leaves her at the door to his room - private, which is unexpected but nice - and she takes a moment to look at him through the small glass window. 

She hadn’t known how much she’d miss him, this man she’d known for less than a week, until that first night when she’d been in California and he’d been god-knows-where, and since then there has been this ache inside of her, up until this very moment, when she sees his face. 

There’s a bandage on his cheek and his arm is in a cast, held in a sling suspended away from his body. He’s too still, too small. The ache returns, in a slightly different shape. 

She opens the door. 

She knows what she’s expecting - for him to wake up, snap those eyes open like the highly-trained government operative he is. So when absolutely nothing happens, she’s worried. 

She approaches him cautiously, like a wounded animal. She doesn’t quite know why. And then she just looks at him. 

His face is littered with small scratches and bruises and the skin is unnaturally pale. The only other visible bit of skin is his hand, sticking out from the cast covering his lower arm. One of the nails is broken and the knuckles are bruised to hell. 

Someone did this to him, she knows, with sickening certainty. Anger flares up in her chest. He’d been gone for less than two weeks and this had happened? 

She wants to find the person responsible and make them pay. She wants to march herself down to the FBI headquarters and demand an explanation. She wants to hold onto Peter and never let him go. 

She can’t do any of it. But what she can do is find a chair and sit with him until he wakes up and stay with him after he does. 

She turns to leave the room and almost jumps out of her skin when a finger gently brushes against her wrist. 

“Stay with me?”

She whirls back around and finds herself looking into the sleepy but very much awake eyes of Peter Sutherland. There’s a lot written there that she can’t parse. But she recognizes the vulnerability, the fear. 

She wants to make that disappear, but she doesn’t know how. She wants to hug him, but settles for very gently taking hold of his hand. 

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

He grins up at her, soft, open, unguarded, and that awful feeling in her chest subsides. “You promise?”

She links their pinkies together and does her best to match his smile. “I might go find myself a chair first. And then I promise.”

thanks for reading! i did have plans to make this a bit longer but it was simply not in the cards this evening lol. hope you enjoyed anyway!

#whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day9 #the night agent #peter sutherland #hospital #my writing #i say things #like ik this is short as hell but im kinda rlly happy w how it turned out. something to be said for keeping it short ig. #ok i am gonna Rest now. oughh #night! <3

[whumpmasinjuly]

Day 9: Creation Prompt - "Stay with me"

It’s time to hurt your favorite canon characters or OC’s! Is this a phrase being said by the whumper or whumpee? Is it said desperately as they struggle to keep someone alive, or is it no louder than a whisper as they fight to keep their eyes open? The possibilities are endless!

Write, draw, create—and don’t forget to use the tags #whumpmasinjuly2023 and #wij23day9 so that others can enjoy your awesome creations too! Make sure to tag @whumpmasinjuly-archive so your works can be featured on our official archive blog!

#whump #whumpcommunity #whumpmasinjuly #infowhumpmasinjuly #infowij23 #wij23day9 #wijprompt

[badluck990]

Day 9: Stay With Me

TW: Kidnapping, Betrayal, Swearing, nightmares, magic, magic induced nightmares, gangs, trafficking mention, dehumanization mention

Let me know if I missed anything!!

“You can’t do this to me!” Kai screamed from the glass as their partner in crime sold them out to Melody. Whether she was ignoring them or the box was soundproof was anyone’s guess. They watched their so-called friend walk out of the building leaving them with Nathan.

“If I knew offering your girl some money was all it took to separate you two I would have done it a long time ago.”

“She’s not my girl you asshole and so what you got me locked up, now what?” Kai groaned trying to sound more confident than hurt.

“Good question. See I can’t seem to make up my mind on what to do with you.”

“Oh really? Fine I’ll bite, what are the options?” /Maybe if I can keep you talking, I can get this box open/

“Aw you’re taking an interest. How sweet. Well let’s see, on one hand you’re pretty-”

“I’m flattered.”

“Shut up, you’d pry go for quite a bit with the Bolt’s little group, but I have worked too hard tracking you down to sell you off so soon.” They paced around the base explaining all the options, a weapon, a servant, (non-lethal) magic practice, ect.

“See there’s just so much I could- ah I see what this is. You’re not getting out of that box, it’s made of Soul Glass, unless you can kill me from inside you’re not getting out without me letting you out. You know I think that makes my decision easy.”

“What’s that-”

“We’ll do a bit of everything,”

“You must be joking,”

“Don’t blame me for Melody singing a different tune. Now, I have to get everything set up, enjoy your new home.”

As Kai’s nightmare of betrayal went on, Melody held them close trying to get the Necklace of Tears to come off as Nathen teased them relentlessly.

“You know the deeper they go into the nightmare realm the harder it is to pull them out. It’s already been half an hour, how far down do you think they’ve fallen?”

“Kai please, I don't know what you’re seeing but you have to stay with me! Please help me help you out…I can’t lose you too.” They begged their partner as their nightmares raged on.

“What happens if you do lose them dear Melody, due remind me how the beast could come out without their potions. Shame you could never make them work like they could.”

“Shut up and let them go! That necklace is made of bleak! I know for a fact you have a bloody monopoly on it!”

“Hmm, these are facts, yes. But I think it’ll be more fun to tell you what he saw. Only once he’s gone of course.” Nathan walked away.

#Wij23day9 #Whumpmasinjuly #betrayal #nightmares #magic #magic induced nightmares #gangs #kidnapping #trafficking mention #dehumanization mention