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shywhumpauthor · 7 months

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Didn’t Mind It

Cw: isolation, starvation, restraints, dehydration, vague implications of drugging

Whumpee didn’t actually mind the first few days alone.

The first eighty-something hours were quiet. Still. Not necessarily peaceful, but almost serene, in the same sense one might strike as they are faced with an inescapable death. The foreboding of tranquility during the fall as the ground rushes closer.

Eventually the gnarling twists of hunger in their gut turned to soft, occasional aches. The throbbing behind their eyes eased into a slow pulse. There was a point where they became so used to the dryness in their throat, the metallic taste that coated their tongue like sandpaper where they stopped noticing it. At some time they had gotten so used to the cold, the damp air that they stopped shivering. Grown used to the heavy weights of cuffs shackles around each wrist, ankle, they were almost able to lift their arms.

They’d gotten used to it. To the quiet so thick the only thing they could hear was the occasional creak of a pipe in the ceiling above, the frigid air that leaked slowly from the vent in the corner, the sound of their own thoughts spiraling until eventually falling silent. They had never heard the quiet so loud. It pressed against them, a weight draped around their entire body, once that once had made their skin crawl in its confining suffocation, but now was almost comforting. In a sense.

For a while they’d begged to be let out. Maybe the first hour or two. They had longed for freedom for the first day, tugged at the shackles until their wrists were raw and bleeding. Then they had settled down, soothed into a stupor of silence by the low whispers of the vent and the faint hints of sweetness in the air. It made their thoughts heavy, lulling them until they slipped away.

They didn’t mind it so much anymore.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whump challenge #ailess whumptober #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday3 #ai less whumptober #ailess whumptober day 3 #isolation #solitary confinement #implied drugging #whump scene #whumptober

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tsubaki94 · 7 months

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3 Overstimulation

Ai-less Whumptober23

#danny phantom #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday3 #danny fenton #Vlad master #overstimulation #core #ghost core #don't touch another ghosts core #evil vlad #art #fanart #vlad master

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hyperfixat · 7 months

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AI LESS WHUMPTOBER DAY THREE ISOLATED

support and engagement would really motivate me to help post and work on the rest of this stuff!

(@ailesswhumptober)

You stretch your arms up in the air as you yawn, rolling out of your bed on the Astral Express. The memories of last night are hazy, but you don’t linger on it as you head to your ensuite bathroom to freshen up for the day.

When you make to step out into the passenger car, pulling on the door handle, it doesn’t budge.

Odd.

Maybe March was playing a prank on you or something?

You call out for March, Dan Heng, PomPom, Mr Yang, Himeko, to no avail. You try the handle once again, before trailing back to your bed, picking up your cellphone to message the Astral Express group chat.

Your phone turns off with a click and you let out a frustrated sigh. Walking back to the door you rest your ear against the panel and listen for any signs they’re out and about.

Nothing.

With not much to do you plop back onto your bed, clicking open your phone to doom scroll until something happens.

You hadn’t known the express had docked. Though why Pompom would land at a planet hostile to… your kind?, humans?, or perhaps something to do with just discrimination. They claim you’re their favorite passenger, so it had to have been an emergency for them to stop… at whatever this planet is.

Your blinds had been closed for the night, and you think better of opening them, but you peek out from the bottom.

It looks like any other planet’s railway. Nothing looks odd or out of place; no ‘humans dni’ signs or posters. You wonder how they’re getting by, your crew, they’re all human-oid, no?

There’s a long period of waiting, maybe an hour, maybe more. Then there’s footsteps, heavy and en masse. Not just the Astral Express crew. These are the sounds of heavy boots, those of soldiers. You can hear March’s distinct tone, so it’s not a raid or something uncouth, she’s at least somewhat calm.

“—and these are the sleeping quarters! They’re all empty at the moment.” They’re getting closer. When they’re outside your door, strangers, hostile on sight to you specifically, “this room is empty. We can’t let you check his one room, sorry!” March giggles.

“We keep unstable synthesis materials in there.” Dan Heng explains levelly. “It would take too long to safely have you search it, we’ll be gone before you’d be finished suiting up.”

There’s a feminine voice replying in a language foreign to you.

“There’s no need for that, we’re leaving within the hour.” Welt.

Your heart stutters and you hold your breath as a hand jiggles your door handle.

“Let’s move along,” Dan Heng’s voice is firm and the shadows peering in from under your door disappear. His voice commands the enemy soldiers away from your door and you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

The soldiers soon file off the ship and your door unlocks with a click and Dan Heng opens it. His body fills in the door frame, stopping March 7th from running in.

“Dan Heng,” she whines, shoving him inside your room so she can bound over to your bed and jump next to you.

Himeko peeks her head inside, “Pompom says we’re taking off soon. Settle down you three.”

“Yes, Ms. Himeko~!” March giggles.

“Sorry about not warning you, we hadn’t prepared to land here.” Welt says from the hallway, looking at you. “We needed an emergency refuel before we could stop at the Xianzhou Luofu. I apologize for any alarm this extrusion may have caused you.”

“Thank you Mr Yang, I’m fine now. It was a little scary at first.” You laugh a little.

“Excuse me!” Pompom shoves past Himeko and Welt’s legs, waddling their little body into your room. They clamber up your bed and smother you in a hug. “Pompom is so sorry for landing here!”

“Aw, it’s okay Pompom. No harm no foul,” you pat their fluffy ears.

Their large eyes seek yours for a moment before they nod and hop off your bed, heading to the captain’s chamber.

“We’re leaving now. You all,” they deliberately look at all the passengers gathered around your room. “Get seated.”

#verified hyperfixat post #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x trailblazer #hsr x reader #ai less whumptober #ailesswhumptober #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday3

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crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 7 months

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Day 3 - Isolation

I love this! I love exploring Mariano's time in prison!!

Ping list: @whumperofworlds, @ailesswhumptober

TWs: illness, fever, isolation, ableism, touch starvation

Prison life had started to settle down ever since they'd brought Mariano to his new cell. It was small, with white walls and a white floor, all stone and concrete. The slab that his thin mattress sat on wasn't quite large enough, but he didn't move in his sleep anyway. The toilet was his own, with no cellmate to share with. The door was thick, reinforced steel, with two windows that the guards could open to talk to him or slide his meals in through.

Mariano was alone.

It was fine.

Now and then, he was allowed to call his parents. He would be led to the phone area, into the booth, and they'd talk. At first it was normal, and they were glad to hear he'd been put somewhere that he felt safer.

It didn't last.

His voice started to go hoarse. He wasn't talking to anyone, and didn't feel like talking aloud to himself, so it just got rusty and rough. He got quieter. His mother got worried.

"Are you sick, Mariano?" She would ask, worry filling her voice. "You don't sound well. Is it cold? The weather here is getting colder. Are you able to keep warm at night?"

"I can keep warm." He would lie. "I don't think I'm sick, though. I don't have a fever, I just don't talk very much."

She never sounded terribly convinced. Once, a week after one of their calls, he was hauled off to the infirmary to be looked over. The doctor hadn't been gentle as he examined Mariano, poking and prodding. He'd shined his light into Mariano's mouth, examined his ears, listened to his lungs. The steady hand on Mariano's shoulder as the stethoscope pressed to his back made his face flush.

Clean bill of health, the man said after double checking his temperature.

Mariano's skin hadn't stopped buzzing by the time he went to sleep that night.

"Are they treating you well, Mariano?" His father asked. "The trial wasn't good to you, but I know my son. Are the staff fair?"

"I think so." Mariano didn't have to lie about that. "They're very kind."

The guards were kind. They were much kinder now that Mariano was away from general population. They spoke to him on the way to and from his time in the yard. They were even punctual with his meals. Sometimes new guards were too rough, or they were rude or mean, but they were just scared. He would've been scared of him, too, in their shoes.

A guard mentioned Mariano's parents that next week, on their way to the yard. It was someone new. "You're lucky, y'know." The man said. "My parents would've disowned me if I'd killed thousands. I wouldn't be getting calls from them two years later."

"I know." Mariano said. "I expected them to hate me." He had. Their reassurances had felt false, leading up to the trial. "I don't know why they don't."

"Your mom's a good baker." The man said after some quiet. "Sent us a thank you card and some cookies." He started patting Mariano down. It always sent a thrill through his chest. The world swayed and he hoped the way his face burned wasn't obvious.

Mariano couldn't help laughing, the noise sounding foreign to him now. "She is. I'll let her know you all liked them, she'll probably send some around Christmas time."

"It is Christmas, Ortiz." The man said, scoffing. "Christ. Do need another visit to medical to fix your head?"

Mariano didn't want to take anything the doctor would give him--the guards had talked about keeping him sedated before he was placed in isolation. But the doctor's hands had felt nice on his shoulder last time. He hadn't stopped thinking about them for days. "No sir." Mariano said, ignoring how his chest twisted at the thought. "I just misremembered."

"Good. Get out there, you know the routine."

Mariano didn't get his call that week. The next day he'd woken up shivering and unable to stay awake. He hadn't even been able to get up to get to a wall when they tried to take him to the yard. They'd come in and he'd just had his hands up in the air, shaking palms towards the ceiling.

"Ortiz, what the fuck?" Rodriguez asked, and Mariano vaguely felt relieved. He knew Rodriguez, and Rodriguez knew him. "Get up."

"I...didn't want to scare you." Mariano said, chest heavy and breathing shallow. His voice was all but gone. "I'm dizzy."

Rodriguez paused before reaching for his face. Mariano flinched, only barely relaxing as Rodriguez's palm pressed to his forehead. "God, yeah, I'd be dizzy too with a fever like that. C'mon, let's get you looked at. I'll send for a wheelchair so that you don't have to be hauled around like luggage."

Mariano didn't remember much after he tried to stand to get into the chair. He knew Rodriguez had been cursing, and that there were hands on his waist and shoulders. The next thing he knew, the lights were dimmed for the first time since he'd arrived and he had an IV in. Pneumonia, someone mentioned when they checked on him. The beds were softer in the medical wing, though, and even in warded restraints it was easier to sleep with the extra blanket he was given.

Mariano's parents weren't happy to hear that update two weeks later.

He didn't have many notable updates after that, though. Not until they started getting him ready for early release. He'd never heard them sound so happy before.

"That's amazing!" His father exclaimed. "I thought something like this might happen."

"I'm afraid," Mariano admitted. "I don't want to make things hard on you both or cause any trouble. I know how most people saw me."

His mother jumped in, then. "That doesn't matter to us, Mariano. You're our baby boy, and you always will be. What other people think is their business."

"Plus," His father said. "We can look into options for you if you're not comfortable coming home. Isn't there that rehabilitation program? The one that has a deal with the Mountains?"

Mariano had to think. "There...there is. Yes." He paused. "Do you think they'd really accept me?"

"I think so." His mother said. "And you can come visit when you've had time to get acclimated again. Does that sound easier than coming home?"

"It...it does." Mariano admitted. "I think I like that."

"If you need any help from us, please tell us." His father said. "And we'll meet you there when you're released. We can make a day of it before we get you to the airport."

"Okay." Mariano felt himself smile for the first time in...a while. "That sounds good."

Maybe, he thought, an early release wouldn't be the end of the world.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #Ailesswhumptoberday3 #Day 3 #isolation #whump #Illness #Fever #ableism #touch starved #mage of violence #Mariano's weird and fucked up and I love him #Prison whump #With a side of pneumonia

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 7 months

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Another Kind of Prison

Summary: Written for AI-less Whumptober 2023 Day 3. Set during Httyd 1. When Hiccup isn’t around. The cove is just another prison.

Warning: /

Rating: General

Characters: Toothless, Hiccup (mentioned)

Pairing: /

Words: 401

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Isolation

Whumpee: Toothless

Author’s Notes: Some Toothless whump for this AI-less Whumptober! (◡‿◡✿)

Enjoy!

@ailesswhumptober

XOXOX

All Toothless wants is for Hiccup to stay for a little while longer when he visits. The boy came into his life, turned it upside down, and now he won’t even do him the joy of staying.

He always comes back either with the rising sun or when the sun is at its peak. He’ll have improved the tailfin or the saddle by then and they’ll practice flying together. They’ll play, explore the island together and Toothless knows this. Yet… He feels so lonely whenever Hiccup leaves.

By now, the yellow glow of another dawn has already turned into shades of blue. There is barely a cloud today, perfect for flying and so he can’t wait for Hiccup to finally arrive. This just happens to be one of those days when he’s late and the dragon never knows why.

He lies by the pond, waiting for his friend to come. He watches the fish swim, he can’t catch them as efficiently without full control of his flight. It’s a dragon’s ability to dive into the water that gets them the fish they need. He watches birds fly overhead, aching that he can’t be in the sky that’s rightfully his when even tiny creatures like them can call it their own. Do they even know the kingdom they inhabit? There are also barely any dragons that fly over this island.

After years of being stuck in that volcano, forced to serve a cruel queen, he thought he would be sick of other dragons. Until a little human fledgling took him down, he would either be in some kind of cramped corner afraid to make the queen angry or he would be flying in a cramped pack afraid of making the queen angry on the way home. There was never any space, no rest, no way to breathe, just constant fear.

Then Hiccup came and suddenly there was freedom. No more cruel queen, but no more dragons either.

But it has become clear to Toothless that Hiccup isn’t free. He’s stuck with that stupid village of his, a friend of dragons stuck amongst dragon killers. He can’t stay with Toothless and keep him from getting lonely at night, when a Night Fury is supposed to be awake.

Toothless can’t fly, he has no dragons around, Hiccup can’t be with him. And so he’s forced to be alone, stuck inside another kind of prison.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #day 3 #ailesswhumptoberday3 #httyd fanfics #httyd fics #httyd movies #httyd #how to train your dragon #toothless #toothless whump #isolation #my fics #my fanfics #another kind of prison

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auroragehenna · 7 months

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AI-less Whumptober

Day 12 Self harm, Sacrifice, Character death

TW/CW: Fights, punches, mockery, intimate whumper, chin tilt, low paintolerance whumpee, scared whumpee, implied kidnapping Word count: 872

The young hero approached him carefully. Almost in awe. He disliked it. It’s just his power. Aside from that he was just like them. Just now he was on his way to eat the shitty food from the agency’s cafeteria.

“Superhero! There’s a message from ‘control’ for you!”

“From Control?”, he asked. Looks like there would be no lunch today.

“Yeah. Sounded pretty urgent.”, hero panted out.

Okay so it wasn’t an internal conflict. Definitely no lunch. “Got it. Thanks Kai.”

The boy looked confused, as if he was genuinely surprised he knew his name.

Superhero stood there for a few more awkward moments and then turned around and walked towards control. By now he knew the labyrinth-like halls of the agency by heart. Five minutes later he knocked on the slick metal door.

The two wings of the door pulled back into the walls and Superhero entered. “What is it this time? Amenesias?”

“No. Not Amenesias, we haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Him.”, Superhero corrected.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway somebody else. A new villain. And as long as we don’t know more…-”

“-It’s better if I go check it out, just to be safe.”, Superhero finished their sentence.

“Just so nobody gets hurt.” They smiled.

“Sure.”, Superhero said. Ignoring the rumbling of his stomach. “Let me just get my stuff.”

Half an hour later Superhero was in full gear and had nearly caught up to Villain. They were committing some low-level crimes in the inner city but Superhero was not going to underestimate them because of it. There! They turned around a corner and saw them. A hooded figure was casually walking down the street and cutting things in half. Cars, Benches, hydrants. Superhero couldn’t see how they were doing that just yet but it didn’t matter. They’d be fine. So they sneaked up closer. Only go get hit in the side by a wave of asphalt. He flew into the next building and to the ground. Superhero took a run-up with his legs and pushed himself up with his arms. “Terra.”, what a pleasant surprise.”, they called out.

A malicious laugh was all they heard in response.

"Come out here so I can finish this and work on the actual threat.”, he provoked matter-of-factly.

Next a streetlamp hit him from behind. He got thrown forward onto all fours and used the momentum to roll forward into a handstand and push himself up again. Just in time to see Terra lunge at him. He blocked his stone punch with his left arm and buried his right hand in the villain’s hair. Then he let himself fall and pulled Villain down with him. They dropped to the ground and Superhero straddled Villain and pulled out the gas spewer. A few seconds after they hit the trigger Terra’s body fell limb. Superhero quickly locked their wrists in the power supressing cuffs and then spun around to look for the hooded figure. They were leaning against a sliced car, perfectly calm, watching them.

Superhero stood up and turned around to them. “So what’s your deal, hood-guy?”

“I could ask you the same question. You have some kind of shield?”, hooded asks.

“Just lucky, I guess.”, Superhero replies. And just a moment after his stomach grumbles loudly. He cursed it in his mind.

Hooded cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, definitely, lucky…Tell me do they always use you as cannon-fodder?”

“I’m literally the best choice. To help out if need be and scoop out newcomers. Like you. And since you’re wasting time trying to get into my head you apparently don’t have more to offer than your little slicing.”, Superhero says dryly.

“Hmm, you’re not completely wrong, that is indeed what I’m best at. But I am not limited to only that.”

“Alright. Enough of this.”, Superhero cut in harshly and lunged at the hooded figure.

The figure hurriedly makes a swift flick motion and a scream rips through the air.

Superhero’s scream…

He drops to his knees, hand reaching up to his torse and coming back bloodied. He stares at it, eyes wide in terror. Breath picking up exponentially. Then suddenly two feet enter his vision and a hand sneaks under his chin and tilts it up. Until his wide eyes meet the sinister sparkling eyes of the hooded figure.

“Well, well, well. Looks like you finally found your match little one.”

Tears were welling up in Superhero’s eyes. “It hurts.”

“Aw you really have no idea of pain do you.”, the hooded figure cooed. Superhero whimpered and the sound was heaven to his ears. “Gooosh you’re perfect! Technically I only wanted to scoop out the competition and cause a little trouble. But I think I’m going to change my plans. And you’re coming with me little one. You can call me Supervillain.”

“N-No I-I don’t wanna.”, Superhero whimpered.

Hood-guy lifted his arm and lightly moved his fingers. “Do you want another taste?”

Superhero frantically shook their head.

“Now then. Come on.”

“They’ll-ugh-they’ll search for me!”, Superhero groaned out.

Supervillain only laughed. “I thought you were cleverer than that little one. You remember Amenesias?”

Superhero paled.

“There you go, finally clicked. Now get up and come here before I make you!”

This idea came to me randomly and it blew up on discord. So I wrote it

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, ( @eatyourdamnpears, @diamond-flavored-n whump, @sodacreampuff, @suspicious-whumping-egg, ), @ailesswhumptober

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whumpeewhumpwhump · 7 months

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(AI-less) Whumptober 3: Isolation

(Not my favorite so far, but it's done and we're posting it anyway. Fun lil Sidekick-Villain-Hero format that I'm liking more and more)

~~~

Prompt 3: Isolation

To be left alone. That was all Sidekick wanted since they were captured by Villain. Ever since they had been taken, Villain didn’t leave them alone. For days they had interrogated Sidekick, oftentimes letting their goons use Sidekick as their punching bag. All Villain wanted was to know more and more about Hero. Obviously Sidekick wasn’t going to spill, so that meant more attention.

When they finally got that time alone, Sidekick wasn’t sure if it was a godsend or the beginning of something much worse. At first, they just slept. They tried to recover after the days—weeks? they couldn't tell—of Villain’s beatings. But then they couldn’t sleep anymore. There was nothing to do. Nothing to distract them from their thoughts. At first they thought of their friends back home. If it had been as long as Sidekick thought, they’d all be worried. They’d be looking for Sidekick, for sure.

But then again, they didn’t know Sidekick’s secret identity. Would reporting their friend as missing jeopardize everything? Was that what Villain was waiting for? So they could figure out Hero’s secret identity, too?

Hero. They’d be looking for Sidekick without a doubt. They were almost positive they were tearing the city apart looking for them. It almost frightened Sidekick when they thought about it. Would Hero finally break? Was that Villain’s goal? To make Hero break their moral code?

Hero would find them, they repeated to themself. It helped for a day or two. Then doubt crept in.

Sidekick sighed and rested their forehead on their knees. It had been weeks. Right? If Hero had really been looking they would have found Sidekick by now. That line of thought became more and more common the longer they were left alone. The longer they were left in the cell, the more they felt the resentment build in their chest. Hero never liked them as much as their previous Sidekick. The previous Sidekick that was more powerful, more careful, more intelligent. Why would Hero waste their time looking for them now. Maybe they had previous Sidekick back.

Maybe that was the plan all along? Hero and Villain were in on it together. Villain would take Sidekick out of the picture and Hero would get their old partner back. Sidekick’s heart clenched at the thought. Their breathing quickened and quickly they squeezed their eyes shut, preventing the tears that threatened to fall.

That couldn’t be it.

Right?

Sidekick didn’t know how many days passed, but the longer they were left alone—alone like they always wanted to be—the worse it all became.

Before long they started hearing voices.

Hero didn’t like you. They never liked you. They picked you out of pity. They felt sorry for you. Why should you protect them from the Villain? They didn’t protect you.

“Hero did protect me,” Sidekick found themself saying outloud. The sound of their scratchy, unused voice startled them at first. “Hero always protected me,”

Not when it mattered. Look at where you are now. Look at your condition. The only way out is to forget about them. Think about it. You could do anything Hero could. You could strike out on your own.

Could Sidekick strike out on their own? The thought felt ludicrous. But then again...

No. Sidekick could feel themself start to unravel. Thoughts—warring thoughts—bombarded their brain. A couple days later and they were muttering to themself, huddled in the corner, hands shaking. Entire body rocking back and forth. Maybe it was their wounds that were festering. Maybe it was the alone time they wanted all along. The room spun so they kept their eyes shut. They felt warm. Hero wasn’t going to get them. Hero was never going to get them.

Alone. Isolated. Forever.

The thought circled their mind over and over and over when the feeling of something on their knee startled them. Sidekick cried out and tried to crawl away, but they were already in a corner. When they looked up, they saw a face. A familiar face. Deep down they knew it wasn’t a face they could trust. But it was a person. Salvation.

Villain looked at Sidekick with a surprisingly gentle face. They held their hands up before they reached out again, trying to ground Sidekick somehow.

“I’m sorry,” Villain said softly, “I’m here to help you. You can come with me, back to a room with a bed and people who can heal you, but I need you to tell me some things. Do you think you can do that?”

Without hesitating, Sidekick nodded. They would tell the Villain anything they wanted to know.

#whump scenario #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday3 #superhero timeeeeee #inspo came from one certain young justice fanfiction that had me in a CHOKEHOLD #linchpin loml #will do a fun reread honestly

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bloodsweatandpotato · 7 months

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Day 3

Isolation, sensory deprivation

Fandom: Original work (chocolate bullet holes)

Characters: Whisper (oc), Listener (oc)

Tw: Claustrophobic environment, minor self injurious behavior

Summary: Listener has lost track of the time alone in the closet. Whisper comes to save him.

The closet was dark. Dark and small and oh so very disorienting. The absence of light felt tangible, as if it had not just been blotted out but had been erased entirely, leaving the closet devoid of air as well.

Listener stayed quiet and motionless, eyes open. Or closed. He couldn’t much tell these days.

He had torn his throat raw with screaming what felt like weeks ago (but couldn’t have been more than a day or two).

Time felt strange in the closet.

It didn’t flow right.

Not a river or an ocean, more like the weak stream of a water fountain, curving through the air, stuttering and bubbling, splashing in the metal bowl and swirling down the drain… what had he been thinking about again?

He was so very thirsty.

He could taste blood.

It tasted red. He remembered what red looked like.

Or at least he thought he did. He saw it when he put his palms to his eyes and pressed hard enough for the circles and squares to dance in his vision. He saw it in his dreams, nightmares, Whisper’s head on the floor emptied out like a broken jar.

The door opened.

There was light.

Listener couldn’t see but he didn’t care because it was white and white meant light was so much better than the dark the inky horrible dark that had suffocated him for so long.

He felt hands on his shoulders, his arms, patting him down. They weren’t rough. They were gentle, efficient. He felt the hands squeeze down his wrists and palms and stop at his fingers, gently tracing his bloodied nail beds.

He had scratched at the door deep enough to leave blood on his hands and scratches on the metal.

“Listener…”

That was his name. He blinked, and the white wasn’t as blinding anymore. It burned. It burned as and he didn’t care because it was more than he had felt, had seen, in a long time.

He would stare bloody-eyes into the midday sky, would brand the sun itself onto his skin if it meant he didn’t have to be in the dark again.

“Whisper-“ He sobbed, voice broken, barely audible.

The blurry, beautiful outline that was his friend, that was Whisper, just murmured soothing nothings and pulled him out of the tiny closet.

Listener sobbed again, keening low and agonized.

Fingers brushed through his tangled brown hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Listener felt the cool plastic rim of a water bottle being pressed to his lips. He swallowed, and it tasted blue and white and beautiful.

“Whisper…”

“Shh…”

#whump #whump community #whump writing #whumpblr #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday3 #chocolate bullet holes #spy whump #secret agent whump #spy whumpee

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shion-yu · 7 months

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Day 3 - Isolation

It's lonely to fall apart. Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Shu - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23743470.shumei-tw

CW/TW: Medical abuse!!

Shu didn’t know how much longer he could take this. He’d been sick for two weeks now with a fever that would not go down no matter what medications he took. Distracting himself with any kind of media simply wasn’t possible, because everything made him nauseous. Reading, watching TV, even the screen on his cell phone - anything that required focus made his eyes feel like they were trembling and caused him to get dizzy. So he was stuck just lying in bed with nothing to distract him from the abject state of misery he was in.

Julian had mostly been doing consultations from home in order to keep an eye on him. Shu didn’t want his condition to affect his boyfriend’s job, but it was also true that he was scared to be alone. He felt so sick that he could barely make it to the bathroom on his own. Julian often had to help him take the short walk there and back, supporting Shu easily with strong arms around Shu’s torso.

He hated that it was like this. He’d never been so sick in his life. If it had just been these two weeks of illness, then he could’ve put it down to any number of short-lived infections. But it’d been a year. One whole year of falling ill every single month with barely any healthy breaks in between. Julian had examined him a hundred times and run every test imaginable, but said there was technically nothing wrong with him. Sometimes, he said, people just developed a weak immune system over time. The flu he’d had last year could have triggered it and there was nothing they could do.

Shu trusted his boyfriend, given that he was a world-renowned doctor. He certainly was getting the best care imaginable, given Julian could treat him at home when the average person would probably be confined to the hospital, or at the least be occupied with constant visits to a doctor’s office. Prescriptions, blood draws, even IV fluids - Julian could do it all from the comfort of their own bedroom. But Shu couldn’t help but feel like something else had to be wrong. He’d always been healthy, catching only one or two minor illnesses a year. In all honesty, he was scared that he was dying from some unknown disease.

Julian told him it was stress that made him feel so much anxiety. He had been trying to convince Shu to quit his job for months, insisting that he could take care of both Shu and his mother even if Shu didn't work anymore. It could even be the baseline level of stress causing Shu’s weakened immune system in general, Julian suggested; they never knew, maybe if he quit he'd miraculously stop getting sick so frequently. But Shu didn't want to quit his job. He was proud of his career and he valued himself as being a hard worker. It felt wrong to burden someone else financially, even if it was his boyfriend who made at least twice the amount he did. He hadn't worked so hard all these years just let someone else work for him.

It was getting to a point where Shu didn't have much of a choice, though. The absurd amount of leave he’d amassed after ten years with the same company (taking almost no time off over this decade) was now dwindling at an alarming pace. At first his boss had doubted Shu was really ill this frequently. He didn't doubt it for long - every time Shu came into work he looked more haggard than the last time. Everybody knew he was a mess, dragging himself through each work day looking like he might collapse at any time. They’d taken a few of his usual responsibilities away from him, which Shu saw as a warning sign that he wasn’t competent enough. He tried so hard to make up for his shortcomings, but it just wasn’t possible.

His friends were worried. Mathias and Miki texted him frequently asking after his health, but Shu had stopped answering them most of the time now. It was tiresome when they often said, “Are you feeling any better?” Because the answer was always no. He didn't feel any better. He felt worse, almost always worse and he was scared he was never going to feel good again.

He’d lost over twenty pounds just this year alone, and he was not a very hefty person to begin with. His hair was thinner and had lost the deep, black shine it'd always had. Dull was a good word for him - he looked faded, like he'd disappear if he lost any more weight or color.

“Aiya, Shumei, my son, what is happening to you?” His mom scolded often, her tone brisk as usual but lacking its normal edge. Shu knew she was worried. Before he started getting sick, he used to visit her every Friday afternoon after work, if not more frequently. He’d bring her to plays and events on the weekends and take her out to dinners they hadn’t been able to afford when he was growing up. Now he barely ever saw her - in part because he was often too ill to leave the house, but mostly because he hated the look of concern on her face each time he appeared worse off than the last time he'd seen her.

He felt so alone, so ashamed and useless... Julian was the only reason he didn't completely fall apart. His boyfriend, the only person who really knew the true extent of it all. He clung to Julian like a lifeline. Julian was always there to take care of him and never seemed to tire of all of this, even if Shu was at his wits end. He made sure Shu stayed hydrated and as comfortable as possible despite his constant body and headaches. He would mop Shu’s hot brow, shushing him gently as Shu whimpered in pain. He would carry Shu to the chair next to their bed and change the sheets when Shu sweat through them, which was often. Julian even bathed him, washing off the thick layer of sickness that clung to Shu’s skin. Shu didn't think he deserved it, but Julian never complained.

Shu didn't realize he was crying until Julian came in and rested a cool hand on Shu’s damp face. “What's the matter, darling? Please don't cry.”

Shu sniffled, tears running down his hot cheeks. “You're too good to me,” he whimpered. “I don't want to be sick anymore. How can you stand being around me?”

“Shh, don't talk like that,” Julian said. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss Shu on the forehead. “I love you. I’ll always take care of you.”

“Aren’t you tired of this? I am,” Shu said, voice wavering. “I’m different now... I’m...”

“No,” Julian said, not a hint of hesitation in his voice. “I’ll never get tired of taking care of you. You're exactly who I fell in love with, and the most important person to me. I’ll do anything to help you.”

Shu still didn't think he deserved it, but he leaned in to Julian’s touch anyways. “Thank you,” he whispered. “You're the best boyfriend in the entire world.”

“It’s easy because it's you,” Julian said. “And I've loved you my whole life. That'll never change.”Shu closed his eyes, too tired to keep talking. Julian really must love him more than Shu could understand to be so endlessly patient, even though he was so sick all the time. He didn't want to be sick anymore, but if he had to be... He was the luckiest man in the world to have Julian, he thought to himself.

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lilac-gold · 7 months

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Isolation

AI-less Whumptober: Day 3 Sensory deprivation | Overstimulation | Isolation @ailesswhumptober

Fandom: OMORI Rating: Teen Word Count: 1396 Summary: Unlike Hero and Sunny, Aubrey didn’t isolate herself. Her friends and family did so for her. AO3 LINK

Aubrey was alone.

She had been for a long time, by that point. After Mari’s death, she and her friends drifted apart, though perhaps that was too mild of a term. They had crumbled, torn apart at the seams by the loss of such a significant member, and even upon first seeing the corpse, Aubrey had known things would never be the same. How could they be, when Mari was gone?

For a start, Sunny was locked inside of his house, seemingly of his own volition. He wouldn’t answer any of her knocks at the door– heck, he wouldn’t even speak to Basil. It was like he’d simply never existed. Days, weeks, months passed. One of the cars in his driveway vanished. Aubrey never saw him again.

Hero disappeared too. Kel did not.

Kel returned to school, but he spent most of his time otherwise within his house, and refused to talk to her most of the time, or anyone else. It was jarring. He was so subdued now, distinctly un-Kel-like in a way that made Aubrey’s insides slither uncomfortably. Kel was always so open. When he was upset, he wailed overdramatically. When he hwas happy, he beamed as brightly as the sun itself. When he was angry, his eyebrows downturned in an amusingly unthreatening way. Kel was always something, be it excited, smug, confused. Kel was not closed-off, or quiet, or silently sad. Kel was not the sort of person who gave up. Kel was not this.

He didn’t tell her much about Hero, looking on the verge of tears when Aubrey brought it up, so she didn’t push. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. So, she was left with the simple explanation of ‘he won’t get out of bed’, and that was that. Hero would be back soon, she was sure. Back with his hugs and his reassurances and his warmth, there to make everything better and give Aubrey someone to go to about all of this. She waited impatiently as each day ticked by, the roaring emotions she forced to be dormant getting more and more aggressive as they passed.

Hero didn’t come back for a year. By that point, it was too late, and Aubrey was the one avoiding him.

She avoided Basil, too. She hated Basil. He was a jerk, a creep, a monster.

…He wasn’t really, Aubrey knew. But every time she thought of the defaced photo album, her hands trembled with rage (and something else she couldn’t quite place), so she didn’t approach him about it. She’d thought she could trust Basil, that they’d shared something special. She’d been his first friend, the one to introduce him to the friendship group. He liked taking pictures of her, and she liked sharing her watermelon with him. She’d thought she would be able to lean on him after Mari died, that they could support each other. She had been wrong, just like she had been about most things.

It was stupid, really. Aubrey had expected everything to be okay, picturing all of them together and looking out for each other, Mari’s ghost looking over them. Hero was supposed to protect her. Sunny was supposed to stick close. Kel was supposed to distract her. Basil was supposed to offer her a hug. Mari was supposed to be alive.

But the idiotic rose tint that used to obscure her vision was gone now, since Mari had killed herself, and Aubrey had never hated the world more. She hated Mari, for choosing to die. She hated Sunny, for hiding away from the world. She hated Hero, for leaving her without so much as a goodbye. She hated Basil, for defacing the memories that meant everything to her. She hated Kel, for changing so much that not even he felt like someone she knew anymore. She hated herself, for letting all of this happen. For being so useless. For being unlovable.

When she mentioned just how deeply Mari’s death had affected her, she was “only thirteen”, so it couldn’t have had that big of an impact. When she asked them for help, she was “old enough to handle it herself”, so Aubrey let her anger run rampant and unchecked as she tried to cook ready-made dinners by herself.

Her mom didn’t care about her. Her dad left once and for all. Her friends abandoned her.

Aubrey was all alone. She wondered if things were always meant to be this way.

Whenever she saw a strand of long, dark hair, or heard the plink of a piano note, her heart raced. Aubrey longed to hear Mari’s warm voice, to hug her like she hadn’t hugged anyone in months. Aubrey missed Mari so much, but even Mari had left her willingly. Aubrey hadn’t been enough, of course she hadn’t. She never was.

Loneliness ate away at her like the plague, far too similar to the all-consuming hunger that followed her most nights. Her mom couldn’t be bothered to cook, and it was hardly like she could stay over at any of her friends’ houses. She didn’t have any friends. She was alone.

Her grief and guilt and fury, that monstrous rage that kept rising inside of her, uncontrollable and far too vast, writhed relentlessly within her. Most of all, her emotions were like caged animals, locked away and gradually going mad.

Her guilt was like a snake, slithering and biting, out of place and seeking to destroy her. With piercing fangs, it injected a steady, deadly venom deep into her skin with pinpoint precision, cold and incurable. She felt her throat constrict as though strangled, every trace of herself squeezed out forever as she struggled to take in a breath. She wondered if that was how Mari had felt when she hung herself, and the feeling quintupled.

Her sorrow was like a wolf, howling mournfully, Aubrey longing to scream out all of her frustrations while knowing it was impossible to do so, words left unsaid as tears prickled in her eyes. She needed people, wishing that someone, anyone would at least touch her, make her feel human again, make her feel real when she only ever seemed like an object of pity or an attraction to gawk at now. She hadn’t felt skin against her own in so long. Aubrey was so lonely, and she could feel herself freezing from the inside.

Her anger roared, clawing desperately inside of her, tearing everything apart in a blind, vengeful panic. She wanted to wail, to curse, to do anything if it meant her friends would just look at her. It hurt, stinging like the pain of a hundred deep gashes, to be case aside by them with such ease. Some days, Aubrey was afraid of herself, her rage making her thoughts darker and darker, until she began fantasising about making people look at her, making them notice just how much she was hurting.

She’d brought this on herself. None of them had noticed how Mari felt, and Mari had killed herself. They had no-one but themselves to blame.

Aubrey had no-one but herself to blame.

And yet, that didn’t stop her from trying.

She grew bitter and cold, recoiling from the touch she so desperately craved, knowing it could be ripped away any second. Kel started smiling again, but he didn’t treat her like his friend anymore. He acted like he had to walk on eggshells around her, like one wrong move would get rid of her entirely, and it was as though they’d never known each other in the first place. Aubrey wondered if that was how he behaved around Hero, too.

At least Hero and Kel had each other. At least Sunny had his mom, unless he’d ended up killing himself too. At least Basil had his grandmother. Aubrey had nothing.

Eyes wet with tears, she wondered why she was so unlovable. What did she do wrong? How could she be better? What would make her friends come back, make her mom love her? No answers came.

She was all alone. Aubrey didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to last without snapping. The crushing weight of her isolation messily tore away at her fraying string of sanity, Aubrey trying and failing to keep it under control. The snake hissed and the wolf howled and the lion roared, and all of them were alone, just like her.

Inhale. Exhale. In. Out.

With a bottle of cheap pink hair dye in her hand, Aubrey made her way to the bathroom, just as alone as she had been for months.

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actualdickgrayson · 7 months

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Whumptober day 3 entry for @ailesswhumptober

Prompt: Isolation and alt prompt Separated from loved ones

#dick grayson #agent 37 #nightwing #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday3

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bright-thehawksflight · 7 months

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AI-Less Whumptober Day 3: Gunshot Wound

Alright, folks, come get your pirate polycule! (I say, as if this had not been written for me and only me.)

Prompt: Gunshot Wound (alternate)

Fandom: I Corsari delle Antille | The Corsairs of the Antilles (Il Corsaro Nero | The Black Corsair)

Summary: Captain Morgan shot plenty of men in his time sailing with the Brotherhood of the Coast. He also had plenty of people shoot at him. In his old age, in Jamaica, he reminisces about a number of situations where a gunshot led to his life taking a turn for the better, and the one time it did not.

@ailesswhumptober

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shywhumpauthor · 7 months

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Ai-less Whumptober Day Two

None of it was Accidental (story pt. 1)

Overworked / Insomnia / Exhaustion

Cw: kidnapping, referenced murder, mentions of killing

Sydney’s back ached. A deep pain rooted in the base of their spine, twisting branches up their back and down towards their hips. It had been a long fucking day—the clinic was swamped with all of the typical early fall flu cases who didn’t know they could save both time and money getting their goddamn cough medication from a pharmacy rather than taking up a seat at their work. Usually Sydney didn’t mind, they got paid the same whether they were taking care of an allergy case or a mechanic who got his hand jammed in the engine of a car and was too stubborn to go to the hospital. They just wanted to go home, eat whatever dinner Cameron promised they’d make for their turn, and go to bed. For the last hour, all they could imagine was how nice it would feel to take a long, hot shower.

Then just as they were about to check out, as they were changing out of their scrub top and into their regular clothes, they got a text. That goddamn text that lit up their phone screen, buzzing in the pocket of their pants. The text thats words were already presented on the screen when they tapped the notification and used their thumb in place of a passcode.

That stupid text, not even a full sentence, like a pebble tossed into a silent pond. The small stone breaking the fragile surface, sending the calm water rippling out in uneven waves. Sending any idea of their slow evening shattering like a pane of glass.

Need u get home quck

Of course, that had sent an instant spear of panic piercing through their chest, cold bleeding down to their stomach. Naturally, their phone was dialing before they pulled their shirt over their head, they were out the door before their bag was fully slung over their shoulder. They didn’t even change out of their scrub pants, almost running across the parking lot as they cursed themself for parking so far away.

By the time Cameron answered, they were already peeling out of the parking lot, laying a palm on the horn when the car in front of them stopped without reason.

“Cameron,” their eyes shifted off the road, fumbling for a moment as they turned their phone to speaker. “Are you okay? What happened?” Voice frantic and disorganized as they cursed at the car and fought to pull their seatbelt across their chest.

“Yeah- yeah I’m alright,” Cameron answered quickly, sounding almost convincing if not for the slight shake in their voice, which only increased Sydney’s worry tenfold.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Sydney repeated, their foot pressing down on the gas as the light ahead of them turned yellow.

“I can’t tell you, not on the phone,” Cameron’s voice sounded tight, studded with a thick emotion Sydney had only heard maybe a dozen times in the years they’d been together. It sent a ball of fear, heavy as led plunking in the pit of their stomach. “Don’t- don’t crash or anything, just get home soon, okay?”

“Cameron, you’re scaring me,” Sydney took a sharp left, the force sending their backpack falling off the passenger seat where they’d tossed it. “Just please tell me, what’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you,” Cameron repeated, their voice a little more firm. “Only in person. Please, just… trust me. I’m alright, okay? Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

Sydney was about to protest more, but their conversation was cut short with a few sharp beeps of the dial tone, before their screen lit up with the call receipt.

They cursed, fingers tightening around the steering wheel until their knuckles went pale. Don’t worry. That’s like, the most worry-inducing sentence ever. Cameron had never been hesitant to tell them anything, on the phone, in person, text—they’d whisper their thoughts in Sydney’s ear in the middle of a silent movie theater if they had something they felt they needed to say. This was not just out of character, it was concerning. More than concerning.

Driving home, Sydney turned a half hour ride into eighteen minutes. They ran almost-red lights, rolled through stop signs and passed cars whenever they got the chance, praying there wasn’t a cop nearby.

Cameron was waiting in front of the garage for them, arms crossed looking just as nervous as they had sounded on the phone.

“Cameron,” Sydney called, throwing open the car door before they’d even unbuckled their seat belt. “What’s going on-“

Cameron met them just outside the door, either of their hands coming up to cup the sides of Sydney’s face. They were strangely warm.

“I’m alright,” Cameron promised, pressing their lips to a spot on Sydney’s forehead. It might have been convincing. Their hands were shaking. “I just need you to listen, okay? I need you to listen and not freak out or panic, okay?”

“Cameron, you’re scaring me,” Sydney took a cautious step back, slowly pulling out of Cameron’s grip. “Tell me, what’s happening?”

Cameron took a deep breath, tearing their hand back through their hair. It was just then Sydney noticed their clothes, still dressed for work in a once ironed collared shirt and pants that were now wrinkled. The first thing they did when they got home from work was change.

“I- you… you remember what happened last month?”

Sydney’s heart sank. Of course they remembered. How could they forget.

How could they ever forget the blood, the fear. The guilt that almost tore them to pieces.

Cameron recognized the memory in their eyes, lips pressing together in sympathy. They didn’t move closer.

“There was someone following me. I don’t know who, but they’re a- a private investigator I think? They’re not- not part of a department. I didn’t know what to do,” Cameron crossed their arms, the words falling from their lips in a whispered rush.

“Cameron,” Sydney echoed, feeling their heart stutter to a stop as the blood froze cold in their veins.

“No, no, I- they’re not, I didn’t-“ Cameron shook their head, voice wavering as their hands tightly clutched their sleeves in some semblance of self-comfort. Sydney wanted nothing more than to reach out, but their limbs had turned to stone, immobilized. “I didn’t.”

Cameron shifted again, moving their hands to clasp together nervously.

“Syd, I don’t… I don’t expect you to stay through this. I know what you- what you said last time. I just need a few hours, I’ll go get supplies and- and I’ll take care of it all. I can be out in a few hours and I’ll deal with it myself and you never have to be involved or do anything, you can forget this happened. I promise, I know what you said. I’ll leave,” Cameron assured, an emotional flush creeping up their neck.

It was like every fear in Sydney’s mind had numbed and intensified. Their mind deafening and utterly silent.

“Are you going to kill them?”

The hopeless, dull look in Cameron’s eyes said everything their lips didn’t.

Sydney took a step forwards, but not towards Cameron. Towards the front door, climbing up the two steps to the porch with the little swinging loveseat they’d splurged half a month’s salary on for last year’s anniversary present. Before everything that had happened. Cameron had planted a garden for them, flowers of all kind that in the summer looked like a bursting rainbow of pinks yellows purples and oranges. So delicately designed, taken care of. A balance of shrubbery so the garden space wasn’t overwhelmed, gaps grown in with clovers or covered in mulch. Every flower Sydney had ever expressed any attraction to, chosen expressly for them. Even with their overwhelming work, Cameron always found time to maintain it. Now it was ready for the winter, stems trimmed and bulbs uprooted and stored in the far side of the garage so they could be replanted.

Their hand was discerningly steady as they opened the door, with how much their body seemed to be trembling. Dread pooled in their stomach like liquid lead, cold and heavy full of a foreboding sense that only worsened when they stepped inside the house. Their house. The familiar entryway carpet, the stair banister scuffed from many years of stubbed goes against it, the closet door that never quite shut right, felt foreign.

Cameron entered behind them, easing the door shut with a soft click.

“Syd,” Cameron muttered, leaning back against the door and letting his head fall lightly against the wood. They didn’t turn around.

“Syd, I promise, you don’t have to get involved. I’m sorry, I just need an hour, to get some stuff, then I’ll be gone, okay? You can forget all of this. Please, I’m sorry.”

Sydney’s throat felt like it was about to swell shut. A hard lump rested uncomfortably lodged in their windpipe, impossible to swallow back. They weren’t sure where the words came from, but the whisper was slipping from their lips before their mind had caught up from outside.

“Where are they?”

Cameron looked even more harrowed by the words.

“He’s- Syd, please, you don’t… just, just talk to me. Tell me what to do. I already have my suitcase packed, I promise I’ll be gone-”

“Stop it,” Sydney interrupted, the heel of their sneaker squeaking against the floor as they turned to face Cameron. “You’re not going anywhere. Where is he?” They repeated, tone firming as Cameron took a hesitant step towards them.

His lips parted, but it took a few seconds for the words to catch up.

“Bathroom.”

—————————————————————

Tag list?

Yes I stole the name from a Taylor swift song. It just came on like two minutes ago and I needed a name for this series and it works. Hush.

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #its me coal #coal wrote something #whumpee #whumper #whump series #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday3 #ailess whumptober #whump story #none of it was accidental series #whump fic

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auroragehenna · 7 months

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AI-less Whumptober

Day 3 Blackmail (alternate)

TW/CW: Creepy/intimate Whumper, blackmail (duh), threats towards loved ones, knife, start of torture (fading into black), paranoia Words: 771

Maybe it had been a mistake to get take away today of all times. One of her favourites. Before she could even sit down the loud electronical ding-dong of the doorbell over tuned the series she was watching. What was going on? Did her mother come back early from her trip anyway? Wouldn’t make sense, she said she’d stay with her friend for the night. And her brother was in ‘Graubünden’. The hairs on her whole body stood up but she walked in the dark room towards the door. There she carefully peaked through the windows in the door and saw Adam. She gulped and as much as it terrified her to do so she unlocked and opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

Adam took a step towards her, now nearly standing on the edge of the door. Just felt like popping in, I hope I didn’t annoy anybody?”, he inquired innocently, even though he of course already knew the answer.

“Only me, the other’s aren’t here right now.”

“I see…” Adam’s grin grew predatory “So? How are Sam and Dean doing?”

Lyra froze. How did he know that?! The thought that he really could read her mind flashed in her brain but she tried to ignore it. With a, as she hoped, secure grin she replied: “They’re not living ‘la vida-loca’ right now.”

“To be honest are they ever?”

“Eeeeeeh, no, not really.”

Adam smirked and took another step, now he was in the house. “You should close the door, who knows who could come in in the middle of the night.”

“Like you, for example.”, Lyra whispered under her breath. She stared at him for a moment more, then closed the door behind him, drenching them both in darkness again. Turning on her heels she walked back to the dinner table and sat down. Doing her best to ignore him.

Adam followed her casually and watched as she turned off her headphones and ranked the volume on her laptop up. Now he could hear Sam talk to Ruby and Dean about Lilith. But his focus was set on Lyra who now uncovered a plastic package with sushi rolls from a cardboard bag. He caught up to her and stood behind her chair, waiting. After a few moments Lyra sighed and paused her series.

“You have something to say?”, she asked.

“Oh no, no, I wouldn’t want to disturb your meal. It’s good that you’re eating. Even if it’s not much.”

“Huh. Alright. Well sushi is actually quite filling.”, she threw in and then took the chopsticks into her right hand and started eating.

Adam reached over her shoulder, relishing in the tiny flinch that caused and pressed the space bar on Lyra’s laptop. Continuing the play of the series. As she was about halfway through her sushi Adam began to speak again: “So, how’s your mental health been recently?”

Lyra froze at the question; rainbow roll halfway to her mouth. “It’s been normal, I guess.”

“I see, I see. Talk to anybody nice recently?”

Her breath stopped. He couldn’t possibly know that she wanted to talk to best friend about it. Right?! She tried to force the shaking out of her voice as she answered: “I mean, some teachers, classmates, a friend.”

“Would be a shame if they got to hear more than what’s healthy for them, right?”, Adam put a hand on Lyra’s shoulder.

“And what exactly would too much be, hm? The fact that you torture me?”

“Just know, they are very easy to take out. And for the torture part, well the way I know her she wouldn’t last long, don’t you agree? Oh but I’m sure she would break beautifully.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Am I? I swung by her house earlier, dropped something off. Maybe you should check in with her in a few days.”

Lyra paled. “You-you can’t be serious. You wouldn’t do that.”

Adam chuckled darkly: “And why is that hm? I have no trouble keeping you quiet. Just keep in mind what I told you and nobody has to suffer.”

“Nobody but me.”

“See it that way”-Adam pulled out a knife and rested the blade against Lyra’s throat-“If you do it somebody else won’t have to. Now how about we get up and upstairs, wouldn’t want the neighbours to see what’s next, right?”

Lyra was too stunned to resist so she just stood up and let Adam guide her, still with his blade against her windpipe.

On the table the credits of the episode ran out and the last two sushi rolls stayed abandoned on the plate. Nobody would finish them tonight.

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud

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