#sorry y'all i like whump too much

[traumxrei-archive]

【 death scares 】

prompt #6: Oh, Great Seven, he thought they were going to die. Please don’t ever scare him like that again (ft. sebek zigvolt, jade leech, leona kingscholar)

gn! prefect (you/yours), drabbles, word count: 1.6k

a/n: hello, i finished my research proposal so i have time before my next deadline to post this >:DD it's angsty asf, but i made sure that it was hurt/comfort so dw i gotchu guys ^^

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek wasn't someone who usually got scared. He knew better than to succumb to such feelings that all but interfered with one's ability to act. It was one of the things he learned when he was training to be one of the Young Master's guards.

But when he saw you dangling from a broom midair, Sebek felt all the hairs on his arms raise. You were barely holding on, and he could see everyone shouting in alarm from where you were.

If you fell, then you would...

Sebek gritted his teeth, "Give me one of your brooms, humans!" His voice boomed over all the commotion, turning heads.

The person nearest to him stuttered, "But brooms are only meant to hold one perso—"

"Does that matter?" Sebek grabbed the broom out of the other's hands. "If you don't do anything, that human is going to fall!"

He hopped onto the broom, flying to where you were before shouting, "Human! You need to let go and get on my broom!"

"I can't!" You cried, your arms shaking with effort. "You'll get hurt, Sebek!"

"Human, I am ten times more durable than you," Sebek said as calmly as he could, bringing his broom closer to yours. "If I fell from this height and got hurt, it'd be an insult to the Young Master!"

"Sebek!"

"What is it?"

"Promise you won't get mad?"

"I can't," Sebek watched as your fingers started to slip. "But I'll promise we won't fall."

It was at that moment when you fell. He felt his broom shift under your weight, and he strained to reinforce it with magic.

But you were here.

You were safe, and that was all that mattered to Sebek. He could feel the pounding of your heart against his back where you clutched onto his uniform.

"What were you thinking?" Sebek ranted, his anger finally surfacing as they made their way to the ground. "Human, I'll have you know that you could've died or been seriously injured!"

"Not only that," Sebek turned to face you. "The fact that— You're...crying...?"

You held on to one of his sleeves, the tears dripping onto the grass below, "I'm s-sorry, Sebek, I didn't mean to...to do that, it just—"

Sebek sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder, "It is alright. You are safe now, human, I was just—" Worried...? Worried? The Sebek Zigvolt, worried about a mere human? But really, who was he kidding? You weren't just a mere human to Sebek, were you?

"I didn't want to see you hurt, is all," He finished lamely. And he could see your eyes sparkling— this time not with unshed tears. Great Sevens, what kind of feeling was currently strangling his heart? Was it...fondness?

Sebek felt his ears warm, quickly brushing off the blooming feelings in his heart, "I-It would be best to get your hands checked out, I shall take you to the nurse!"

You smiled at that. A small smile, but to Sebek it meant the world. He continued on, rambling about broom safety as he led you to the infirmary. If it meant that you were smiling and not crying anymore, then Sebek would more than gladly fill up the silence with his voice.

Jade Leech

Of all the things to happen today, he didn't think watching you put yourself in mortal peril was going to be one of them. Jade swallowed, trying to clear the stuffy feeling that seemed to sufuse his whole body.

He was waiting for you outside of the infirmary, the initial shock after the accident having finally subsided. Still, he couldn't get the picture of your body lying prone on the ground out of his mind.

"It was due to incorrect ratios," The nurse had said. "The alchemy potion had turned into a potent airborne poison. And if you had arrived any later..."

Jade didn't want to think about that part.

But soon enough, the nurse called him in. As he walked up to your bed, he couldn't bring himself to speak first. You weren't watching him, clearly focused on trying to open your water bottle.

"Let me," Jade's voice escaped him, and he saw your eyes widen when you saw him. He opened the bottle, handing it back to you without another word.

"Thank you."

Jade didn't know what else to say, his eyes following you as you drank. His mind brought back the image of you being unnaturally still. It was morbid. The thought made him sick, yet he couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Jade-senpai," You met his gaze and he felt his throat constrict. "Are you...mad at me?"

Jade felt his lips twitch, "Why, pray tell, would I be mad?"

"I...I'm sorry, I wasn't being careful enough," You bit your lip, and he couldn't bear to be upset with you any longer. He sighed, taking a seat beside you.

He very slowly slipped off his glove, talking all the while, "Next time you find yourself having to do an alchemy assignment alone, do invite me."

"But you're busy," There was clear hesitation in your voice, even as his hand tentatively held yours.

"Kind to a fault," Jade said shakily, feeling unsteady now that he could feel the warmth of your skin against his own. "There's no need for that. Your safety is more important, and I would gladly spend time with you. At least next time take one of your friends with you just...just in case." Jade pressed his lips together. He didn't mean to nag. He didn't mean to talk much at all, but the sight of you pried all his feelings out him so effortlessly. He really couldn't win against you.

And like you knew exactly what he wanted to hear, you smiled, "I'm okay now. See?" Your palm cupped over his, bringing his fingers to rest against your neck. And sure enough, he could feel your pulse thrumming under his fingers.

Jade closed his eyes before opening them again, "Right. Now then, I will be overseeing your recovery from now on." He clapped, his magic swirling through the air to tug your blankets into a more acceptable state.

"Wait, what–"

"I'll contact your friends to let you rest for now."

"No, senpai, wait–"

"Surely you aren't objecting to rest, Prefect?" Jade smiled as politely as he could and he watched as you shuddered. "After all you almost di–"

"I'll be in your care then," You huffed, before patting his arm. "Just make sure you don't over do it."

"I won't. I'll be taking very good care of you."

Leona Kingscholar

"The Prefect got into an accident."

Leona couldn't understand how those words filled him with such dread. He couldn't even wait for Ruggie to finish, he was already rushing to the infirmary.

What did Ruggie mean by you got into an accident? What kind of accident was it? Were you okay? Sevens forbid that you were...

Leona gritted his teeth as he arrived. Irrational anger and worry wasn't like him. He took a deep breath, schooling his emotions before knocking on the door.

"Kingscholar," The nurse acknowledged. "To what do I–"

"The Prefect."

"...Right," They nodded before leading him toward where you were. The curtains were drawn and he couldn't...see you. "Don't do anything too rash."

Leona nodded, drawing back the curtain. His stomach dropped at the sight of you, your head wrapped up in bandages, and plasters covering your arms and legs.

You were awake, and you blinked as he stood there, "Leona-senpai..."

Leona heaved out a harsh breath, sitting at the edge of the bed. He didn't know what to do. Not when that ugly mix of anger and worry was bubbling at the base of his throat. Instead all he did was stare, as if any second an ugly red would mar the bandage on your head.

"I, uhm," You spoke first, your head turned downward. "It wasn't anyone's fault. We...had some rain at Ramshackle, and it leaked inside... The staircase, it... Ramshackle's old, so..."

"You're telling me the staircase fell in on you?" There was a surprised look on your face as he spoke. Even he couldn't understand the flatness of his voice.

"I...yeah," You clenched your fists. "Grim's okay, he was at the foyer when it happened, but..."

"So you almost died," At your nod, Leona felt the anger morph straight into fear. Died? The herbivore? You almost died?

He scowled at the thought as he pried your hands from the sheets, "Stop that. You're gonna make your injuries worse." His eyes met yours, and he could see the fear there too— in the way you trembled despite the day being warm.

"Herbivore..." He muttered before moving closer to you. He was mindful of your bandages as he held you, trying to ease your shaking.

"I was scared," You murmured into his shoulder. "I thought that it was the end, and—"

"You're here now," Leona soothed, and he wasn't sure who he was trying to comfort. "You'll be alright, herbivore." You pulled away with a weak smile and it took all of Leona's self control not to pull you back to him.

He sighed, hanging his head, "You...you drive me crazy. Really, do I have to cast protective spells on you to keep you safe?"

Your hand settled over his, "I won't object if you do. It might come in handy sometime."

"That's not the point. And you should sleep," Leona gently pushed you against the pillows. "How are you gonna get better enough to ask Crowley for more budget if you don't rest?"

"And..." Your voice was quiet; inquisitive. "You'll stay?"

"I wasn't planning on leaving," Leona braced his head against his arm. "Now sleep." That seemed to appease you, and soon enough, he could hear the steady sound of your breathing fill the room. And in the quiet of the room, Leona vowed never to let you fall into danger again. Not if he could do something about it.

ty for reading the hurt/comfort !! i hope that it uh, appeased your angst chasing for now, and if you'd like to read more of my stuff, check out my masterlist <3

#/trau writes #sebek zigvolt #jade leech #leona kingscholar #sebek zigvolt x reader #jade leech x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #angst goes brrrr #sorry y'all i like whump too much

[uniquevoidflowers]

Dunno what exactly this is BUT:

Ready y'all? I'm ranting about all my mutuals cuz y'all are so freakin amazing.

@mad-navi, I know we barely interact but I think you're pretty cool and I love reading your tags. I think it would be really fun to bake cookies with you.

@majorproblems77, Omg your writing is so good, I love reading your stuff! You know how to whump and angst, soooooo.. Your also pretty fun to talk to, and you have amazing ideas!!!

@strawberry-catcake, I could literally eat your art. I'm so in love with your art style. Just how you draw clothes and faces!!! But also I like talking to you, and you have good taste! Hugs for you 🫂

@akchimp75, your art style is so cute!!! I love your confidence, and I get ridiculously happy when you reblog, reply, or like any of my things.

@raeofsky, another mutual I don't interact with too often (even though I should), you seem really friendly and I love seeing your reblogs ❤️

@isasan347, my gosh your ideas, I actually love seeing your posts with gem, cause you two have such good ideas. And your art is so so brilliant. Another fun person to talk with!!!

@onceuponaladye, Gosh, I really like talking to you!!!! I'm giving you many hugs 🫂. You are really cool, and with the art I've seen, I can say that your art is really cool too. 💖

@kiwi-der-vogel, Your. Art. Is. So. Freakin. Fantastic. I'm in love with the bright colours you use and the jokes you make. Makes me laugh everytime!

@link-or-sherlock, Your art is literally so amazing. You have no idea how happy I was when you made those void flowers. AND I could probably talk to you for hours on end. Thanks for everything, and for adopting me <333

@ikaishere, your art is so marvellous, I love everything about it! Giving you internet hot chocolate for whumptober this year. Also, when did you follow me???/pos

@1000emotions, We should definitely talk more, you seem really cool. Love your ramblings!

@baileyboo2016, You are really funny/pos! From what I've seen, your art looks really cool. I love seeing you gush over characters, and I like your ideas!

@cal-the-imp, your photography my word...It's literally the best I've seen. Your poetry as well! 🫂🫂🫂

@finleyforevermore, you are literally so amazing and the sagas you have are hilarious. You also have some pretty good taste!!!

@/somebody-random-lol I don't know if you want me to tag you in this, but ily/plat, and I like talking to you :)

@justalilghosty, uh I don't think we've ever interacted but you're really cool. (sorry if this is a bother)

@frostedshadow, To this day, I'm still a little surprised you even know me/pos. You are literally so freakin cool, and I love talking to you.

@vio-starzz, uh you are literally so amazing, when did you follow me?! Love your writing and your art!!!

@prince-of-red-lions, Literally, so fantastic! il your art, you do a really good job with expressions!!! Giving you hugs 🫂! You are really friendly and deserve everything!!!!

@whyoneartheven, so sweet, so friendly, and you are so good at drawing!!! You are so fun to talk to, hope you have a lovely day/night!!!

@anadorablekiwi, anjbhshsbhhibihbh you are so fantastic!!! Been meaning to follow you for literally forever but forgot and only recently did. ❤️❤️❤️

@candy8448, you are so creative and your art is so cute! You also write really good! I'm eating your ideas nom nom.

@here4dragons, I know we haven't interacted too much, but you're SO cool!!! Giving you hugs 🫂

@almost-an-artist, your art is so adorable and we haven't been mutuals for long but you seem really really nice.

@r0achezz, your art and writing is just really good 💖, and you are really fun to talk to.

@i-am-1142,asdfergrhttge you're literally so cool and amazing and-

@margindoodles2407, Ahjisurehrijowretutrhyrt you are so creative and your art and writing is just ahhhhhhhhhhh, ilysm/p <3

@arsonisticscholar, il your ocs! I don't think we've interacted but you seem really fun and cool <3

#you can see how I'm repeating myself #but its because yall are the best #how come I have so many mutuals #this is meant to be positive pls let me know if Im being rude or anything like that #*sweating* #this has been in my drafts ive been so unsure of posting this #uhhhh if you didn't want to be tagged or on this list lmk ig #I've realized just how much I've repeated this...

[we-were-so-beautiful]

3. taxi

oh man, this one FOUGHT me y'all. so much cutting and pasting. I am not even kidding when I say that everything that happens in this chapter was supposed to be part of the last one, and I gave up and cut that one off early because I was sick of trying to finish this part. and now this is my longest chapter yet. you know, out of all three of them. at 1.3k. lol. I am not, how do you say, fast. but I was hoping I'd be able to get a chapter written over christmas, and I'm really proud of myself for finishing it!

Content warnings for this chapter: box boy universe, pet whump, dehumanization, cage mention, rampant classism. As always, please tell me if there's anything else I need to tag.

[masterlist] [chapter two] [chapter four]

“Okay I know they’re supposed to be expensive but what can you possibly be charging this much money for.”

“Adoption fees are to offset the cost of room, board and medical care while at the facility,” the employee parrots, without so much as the decency to look ashamed. 

“He does not look like he has had literally any of those things while he’s been here. Or possibly in his entire life.”

“Ma’am, if you cannot afford the adoption fee, then you cannot adopt a Pet.”

“Oh, I can afford it,” Vanessa growls, handing over a very shiny credit card before her mouth can get her in enough trouble to stop the employee from taking it. She bites her lip until she tastes copper to keep from saying, I’d just rather put it towards something that isn’t blatantly and obviously going right back into Worldwide Rehabilitative Un-fucking-limited’s pockets despite the fact that this is supposed to be a goddamn government facility.

Harm reduction, she reminds herself. Paying extortionate fees to kill shelters is still harm reduction. It’s the unsavory truth, but it doesn’t make the blood in her mouth taste any sweeter.

“Sign here,” the woman says, handing her credit card back along with a digital pad and stylus, and Vanessa cracks her wrist before she takes them. It’s sore and snapping like a glowstick from the mountain of paperwork she’s already been made to sign since the employee unceremoniously hauled the man on the floor behind her down from his double-high-stacked wire crate. She can’t decide whether to consider it an obscenely large amount, or an obscenely little one for all that it represents.

She can’t think about it too hard. Can’t draw too much of her own attention to the fact that she’s really doing this, or she might just run screaming back out into the grey-tinted autumn afternoon, and then where would this guy be? 

She scribbles her name on the touchpad, and just like that… it’s done.

—

“Don’t forget your leash and collar,” the employee reminds her.

“I won’t be using those,” Vanessa says, with all the imperious rich-lady self-assurance she can fake.

“You will if you don’t want to be liable for civil and/or criminal penalties up to and including the permanent forfeiture of your right to Pet ownership,” the woman drones like she’s rattling it off from a handbook, and nobody has the right to own a person but even Vanessa knows better than to argue the system with someone who literally works for it.

She grinds her teeth as she takes the lengths of bulky blue nylon from the woman. She crouches beside the man, who’s bent himself into an odd kneeling fetal position on the cold tile floor. “Sorry,” she whispers as she slides the coarse material around his throat, feeling his pulse beat harsh and rapid underneath. She hopes she’s being quiet enough that the employee won’t hear her talking to him like a person—because he is a person, goddamnit—but she knows better than to trust her own volume. Best if she can get the fuck out of here with him now, before she makes a mistake.

She really doesn’t want to lead this dude crawling down the street like an animal. Doesn’t want to imagine what people will think. But she asks him, “Can you stand?”, and he makes a sound like a choking dog, and so much for both their dignity, she fucking guesses.

“Ugh, fine, whatever, just… come on.”

—

Fuck standing, the guy can barely support himself on all fours. His joints threaten to buckle at every step as Vanessa urges him out onto the chilly sidewalk. Coat of dirt aside, he’s got nothing on him but a pair of boxers as filthy as he is and that godawful blue collar, and when his bare skin meets the frigid pavement his body clenches so hard she can practically hear his teeth slam shut.

She looks at the unwashed man before her, shivering hard enough to rattle his bones in the cold October air. Looks at her thick brown coat. Ugh, she likes this coat, the lining is stitched in in all the right places to keep the texture of the shell from making her want to climb out of her own skin and no amount of dry cleaning in the world is going to convince her to put it on again once it touches… whatever the fuck is all goddamn over this guy. She sighs and shrugs it off.

Fuck fuck fuck it’s cold. She’s shivering herself in just plain blue jeans and her second favorite Cure t-shirt. But a million “if you’re cold, they’re cold!” memes flash through her mind and she grumbles aggrievedly and drapes the wool coat over his massive, gaunt frame. This dude has like a foot on her standing, she remembers when the lapels will barely pull around his shoulders. She’s gonna have to shake Austin down for clothes.

God, it feels beyond fucked up to have a person on a leash, and it doesn’t help that the cheap blue nylon feels plasticky in her hand and she hates the texture. She can’t imagine how much worse it must feel around the throat of the shuddering man before her. She’s taking the damn thing off him as soon as she gets him home, she’ll get him a better one if Roselle can’t find her a loophole and she absolutely fucking has to, but when the fifth or sixth cab passes her by without even slowing down she starts to wonder how the hell she’s going to get him home at all.

—

“You want to go to the corner,” the employee says boredly, not so much as looking up from her newspaper when Vanessa shoulders her way back through the door.

“You what?” Vanessa echoes.

“The corner. Better if you go another block or two, even. Cabs don’t stop in front of the shelter.”

Of course they don’t, Vanessa thinks. 

She hipchecks the door back open and returns to the stupid goddamn hitching post they so conveniently provide along the front wall of the shelter, where she’s awkwardly strung up the loop of the stupid blue leash. “Hey, uh, dude? I’m gonna go up the street a bit, okay, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

He barely acknowledges that he’s heard her, curled back up under her coat in that same odd position with his forearms tucked into his chest. “...not that you would,” she adds dubiously, before power-walking away to the next block.

Vanessa hisses through her teeth in the bleak grey air and rubs at her goosebump-riddled arms, but true to the employee’s disaffected word it’s only a matter of minutes this time before a cab driver catches her wave and pulls over. “Thanks,” she says as she tumbles in. “I’m going back to the Heights. Need to pick someone up first, though. Just on the next block.”

The driver looks skeptical, but he rolls down the quiet street all the same—until he clocks the shelter just as Vanessa tells him to stop. “No. Nuh uh. No way. I don’t let Pets in my cab.”

“I’ll double your fare. Up front.”

The driver shakes his head, staring revulsed in the direction of the hitching post. “Not worth all that crud on my seats.” Oh. Great. He’s seen him.

“What if I cover the seats. Newspaper.”

The driver sizes her up with a calculating gaze, one elbow propped on the back of his seat, and somewhere in the middle of wanting to punch him for looking at her she finds herself wishing for once that she’d dressed… richer. Finally, he grouses, “Triple fare. And the meter’s runnin’ while ya cover ‘em.”

“Fine,” Vanessa spits, and sprints out with the door wide open before he has time to change his mind.

She barges into the shelter one last time, hopefully the last fucking time in her life if she has any say in it. Leaning over the counter, with a grin that’s probably a little too smug for her to be proud of, she snatches the newspaper directly out of the apathetic employee’s complicit hands.

-

taglist: @maracujatangerine @pigeonwhumps @tragedyinblue @marchtothefuckingsea @octopus-reactivated @briars7

#whump #pet whump #rescue whump #recovery whump #bbu #box boy universe #vanessa + juniper #disaster caretaker #imperfectly consistent #tw dehumanization #tw classism #I feel like I'm writing more plot than whump here #like I could be leaning way more into descriptions of what dude's experiencing but I'm just trying to get through all these fucking scenes #the not leaning into whump part is unsurprising but the concerning bit is that I can't actually write plot. at all #so if that's what's supposed to be holding this together then well. uh. #we'll see how that goes I guess lol #oh I almost forgot! #points to whoever catches my wru mention #it's probably not subtle lmao #I just wanted to do something a lil different #ps idk what the fuck happened to my section dividers #but tumblr seems to have retconned it into my previous chapters as well #so it's probably not something I can fix lmao #btw if it wasn't obvious. I've never been to nyc in my life and I have no idea how anything works including taxis #just pretend they invented box boys instead of ride shares I fucking guess #@ my ass writing a novel in the tags instead of writing. you know. #the actual novel

[n3on-graveston3s-calling]

Are You There? Are You Coming Home?

Word Count: 1,382 Rating: Teen Characters: Bartholomew Kuma, Monkey D. Luffy, Portgas D. Ace, Straw Hat Pirates, Kizaru | Borsalino, Silvers Rayleigh Warnings: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury Blood, Anxiety, Trauma, Hurt No Comfort, Tragedy, Angst, Major Character Death, Sabaody Archipelago Arc, Marineford Arc Spoilers Author's Notes: Decided to finally take part in a whump event. @febuwhump ; get ready for a month of pain, y'all. I got plans. For Febuwhump 2024 Day 1: Helpless

Please note: This contains spoilers for the end of the Sabaody Arc & for Marineford.

I'm sorry, Ace. I really do love you.

You can also find this on my Archive.

“Oh, Ace, are you there? Are you coming home?”

Once, when he and Ace were younger, they got lost in the woods. This hadn’t been longer than a month after Ace had arrived, when he was still learning the rules of the house and the lay of the land. He hadn’t listened to Luffy, had led them in a circle until that circle veered off the path. They were helpless, lost in the dark of the forest as the sun began to sink below the horizon. Lost, helpless, clinging to one another while Ace tried to be brave and strong but he was shaking just as much as Luffy was, until Dadan found them an hour after sundown.

Turns out, they were only twenty five feet from the opening of the forest. They weren’t that helpless.

Helpless.

It’s a strange feeling to experience, helplessness. Normally, you are the one who is taking care of everything, who is coming to the aid of everyone. But suddenly, and without warning, you are the one who is helpless.

The ground was spongy beneath Luffy’s feet. It’s like moss; he’d mentioned that when they first made port at this Archipelago. How had things gone from bad to worse in hours? It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Why were there so many Kumas? How was that possible? It wasn’t in his Devil Fruit, he wasn’t supposed to be able to make multiples of himself. Had someone cloned him?

Zoro.

Zoro. He croaked out some semblance of his name, as if calling out would do any good, would bring him back from whatever it was that Kuma had done to him. Was he dead? Did Kuma kill his best friend, his other half, his partner, his first mate? The concept stole the breath from his lungs, bringing forth a rage he didn’t think was possible. But his body was weak; injured, he could feel his ribs creaking with each breath he drew in. “HEY! WHAT DID HE DO TO ZORO?” Luffy yelled at the scar-faced kid who kept calling the Admiral his Uncle.

( Uncle? What a weird family, but who is he to judge? He just wants to get this done with, so he can get the ship coated, and get to Ace. Where is Ace? He needs to find Ace. He needs to find his big brother because his big brother needs him. Why was his Vivre Card so damaged? Was he injured? Was he alone? Was he helpless, too, in this moment? He needs to find Ace. He promised Dadan that they’d return together one day. He can’t break that promise to their mother. )

“They say anyone Kuma touches with his paws goes flying for three days and nights. But no one knows if that’s true. Only Kuma himself…” the rest of what was said simply went in one ear, out the other, as Luffy’s attention turned towards the rest of his crew scattered about. Old Man Rayleigh had been keeping the Admiral distracted, which was good, but Zoro… Zoro was gone?

“RUN, YOU GUYS!” Luffy screamed, throat raw from the force of his cry. Franky started to run, he could see him, but stopped because Nami wasn't following. Why wasn’t Nami following?! Brook- Brook was talking. Wait, no, no, no! “Brook!” He cried as Kuma tapped the newest member of the crew. Brook vanished into thin air.

He needed to move. Why didn’t he move? His legs weren’t answering his brain. His crew was vanishing before his eyes and he couldn't save them. Why couldn’t he move?! Move, damn it! Body! Listen! Move! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE-

“RUN, SANJI! PLEASE!” He tried to warn his beloved cook, only for Usopp to stand up, to try to attack. Before he could even scream- he’s gone. Usopp was gone, and then Sanji, and oh, Gods, this was happening. This wasn’t a nightmare. They’re gone, his crew was gone. “How do I…?” How do I move? How do I fight someone who, with one touch, can make me vanish, too? How do I save my crew when half of them have already vanished? How do I become the King of the Pirates if I can’t even protect the ones I love most?

Gear Two did nothing. Nothing except expend more energy that he didn’t have, he realized too late. He was flung back, wheezing with each breath as blood filled his lungs, as he struggled to cough it up. Franky was next, vanishing from sight; he heard Robin scream for him beside his own garbled screech. That’s right; Robin and Franky had gotten close. Were they lovers?

For a brief moment, Luffy wonders what it’s like to have someone love you in that way.

Until Nami screamed, breaking his thoughts. “NAMI!”

“HELP-” she’s gone.

She’s gone, and his arm was outstretched as if to grab her, to pull her into the safety of his arms. Kuma had hit him away again like an annoying gnat. He rose, turned, but it was too late as Chopper was suddenly gone. “ROBIN, RUN!” He cried helplessly, tears welling as he watched Kuma reach out, as Robin met his gaze.

She wasn’t afraid.

She was gone.

( He remembers once, when Dadan had left and hadn’t told him that she was leaving to get a few things from town. He woke to an empty house, to silence, and it feels a lot like this. This sudden dread of being alone. Of not knowing what’s happening, of what to expect next, because nothing is making sense anymore. )

His breath caught in his chest, a cry rose from his lips but only spilled out in the form of a warbling sound that’s more apt for an animal rather than a person. His fingers drug through his hair, tugged on dark, curly strands hard enough that they separated, snapping away from his skull, dragging forth sparks of pain that did nothing but agitate him further. He wheezed, blood mixing with mucus, as he leaned forward. His forehead met the ground once, twice, thrice; nails scratched at the freshly revealed dirt, breaking off with the grooves that he dug. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t save any of them!” He wheezed as tears rolled freely down his cheeks, streaked through dirt and grime and blood.

His crew was gone, because of him. Because he wasn’t able to intervene. They tried to save him, and in response, he couldn’t save any of them. What sort of shit captain was he? That man, the Admiral, was speaking but it sounded like a hundred mosquitoes buzzing within his ears. He rose up onto his knees-

“We will never meet each other again. Farewell.”

That was the last time Monkey D. Luffy saw Bartholomew Kuma. Or, the real Kuma, that is.

When he was helpless to save his crew.

“Hello? This is Dadan, are you there? Are you coming home?”

The same way he is helpless, now. Marineford is in a full out brawl, and he is trying to get to Ace, but people keep getting in his way, and they won’t fucking move, and he feels like he can’t draw enough oxygen in. “ACE!” He screams, hoping that his voice will reach his brother. “I’M COMING!” He is coming for him.

He can’t be helpless again. Not again, even as his lungs burn with the effort to breath, as his ribs ache with each expanse, as his muscles feel close to tearing as they stretch like rubber to launch him through the crowd of pirates and marines, of guns and blades and oh, god.

He can hear Ivankov yelling at what would be Kuma behind him.

He can see the platform. He can see Ace, kneeling on the platform. Ace, who is beaten and bloodied and is he crying? He can’t tell, but his big brother is right there and he can see him.

He still feels helpless, twenty feet from the platform. Like they’re back in that forest, alone, and scared, and crying for Dadan to save them. To find them. To help them.

He feels even more helpless as he kneels with a body slumped against him, with warm blood coating his front, his legs, his arms.

Monkey D. Luffy was helpless.

“Sorry, Dadan. We’re not coming home.”

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday1 #one piece #monkey d luffy #portgas d ace #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: anxiety #tw: spoilers #sabaody archipelago #marineford arc

[quietly-by-myself]

Shadow By My Fireplace - Chapter 33 (FINALE)

Masterlist

Well, it's been a long journey here, huh? I hope you have all enjoyed this story as much as I have. I've loved writing this, seeing all of your reactions and love for the story. Just, thank you all for your support.

Thank you to @darkthingshappen for elevating this series through her beta reading. And for cheering me on and helping make good decisions.

Thank you to the following people for cheering me on: 🐘 anon, @flowersarefreetherapy, @oddsconvert, @whumpsday, @pumpkin-spice-whump, and @verkja. Y'all are awesome

CW: none

===

The car ride was long back to Hope. New York was never a big state in Cyril’s head. He was from a small town not far outside Oswego - not far from the United States-Canada border, not far from Lake Ontario, and not too far from New York City. It was easy to forget the expanse that was New York State in that small town, in that small cabin.

Trees blended into one and the conversation between Sacha and his parents was hopeful. Sacha and Cyril had both said that they didn’t really want to talk about what happened, so his family did the talking. They couldn’t stop telling Sacha about everything he’d missed while he was gone, how happy they were to have him back. Soon, the conversation changed to what they wanted to do for his birthday. Cyril would chip in when asked or when he thought of something to say, but he mostly stayed quiet.

Finally, they arrived at Hope. The sun had started to set, but that was only natural - it was winter after all. They’d driven through snow-covered trees in the Upstate.

Sacha’s home wasn’t big. In fact, it reminded Cyril of his cabin more than the houses he saw when he worked in Syracuse. It was a ranch with a dirty door and windows, but the garden in the front was netted - probably for the deer. Cyril recognized the tomato plants. It must’ve been a dormant vegetable garden.

Sacha’s mother hurried to open the door to welcome the two of them in. “I’m sorry for the mess. We didn’t really have time to clean,” she said with a chuckle.

Cyril chuckled, too. The house was almost perfectly clean inside and smelled of vanilla. 

“It’s okay. I understand.”

Sacha’s mother led them all to the living room, while Sacha’s father brought over four bottles of craft beer.

He smiled at Sacha. “You’re finally old enough to drink.”

Sacha chuckled a little. Cyril thought over any medication that Sacha might be taking, but then remembered that Sacha wasn’t taking anything more than acetaminophen and ibuprofen. He chuckled a little to himself, which drew a look from Sacha. Cyril was quick to wave his hand dismissively.

“I just remembered something.”

Sacha nodded and accepted the beer from his father. The four of them toasted then all took a sip of their beers. Cyril hummed a little. He missed craft beer, all those years in the mountains.  

After a little beat of happy, content silence, Sacha’s mother spoke. “I’m headed to go make dinner.” She looked at Cyril. “Don’t you dare ask to help. This is for us to do for you.”

Cyril laughed a little. “How’d you figure it out?”

“You just seem like the type,” Sacha’s mother said with a laugh.

Sacha and his father got talking about different things. Apparently the Buffalo Bills were getting a lot better recently. Cyril wouldn’t know. He wasn’t into sports. However, to see Sacha’s face light up and for him to talk, actually talk, excitedly without hesitation made Cyril smile widely. 

However, after a while, a thought started to hang around in Cyril’s head. One that bothered him and needed to get out.

He stood up politely and said he was going to talk to Sacha’s mother. Clementine - if Cyril remembered correctly. 

Cyril knocked a little on the door frame. “Mrs. Matisse?”

Sacha’s mother smiled and looked back at Cyril. She was chopping up yellow potatoes and garlic.

“You aren’t asking to help, right?”

Cyril cracked a smile. “No, I’m not, Mrs. Matisse.”

Sacha’s mother waved her hand. “Call me Clementine.”

“Clementine, then. I, um, pardon. I’m not the best at talking.”

“Neither was Sacha. It… it took him a long time to climb out of his shell.”

Cyril swallowed a little. “I’m a doctor.”

Suddenly, he has Clementine’s attention. “Did he-?”

Cyril shook his head. “I left medicine for personal reasons a few years ago. I found him half-dead in the forest near where I live. I know the house he came from, now, but I wanted you to know that the man who kept him captive is dead. He died of an infection. Sacha almost did, too, but I healed him.”

Clementine’s knife fell and she turned to look at him. In fact, she didn’t just look at him, she came and hugged him.

“You, a total stranger, saved my son?” There were tears in her eyes. In the other room, the TV was on a football game and Sacha and his father were watching happily. “Even after you left medicine, you saved him?”

Cyril nodded. “I guess so.”

Clementine hugged him tighter. “Thank you. Thank you for being my son’s guardian angel.”

Gently, Cyril rubbed her back as she cried a little into him. “Was it bad? The condition he was in?”

“It was bad, yes.”

She went quiet again. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I will never be able to repay you, but thank you. Know that if you need anything, you can come to me.”

Cyril took a breath. “About that, I had a question.”

“Anything,” Clementine breathed.

“I’d like to come practice here,” Cyril blurted. He took a moment in the silence that followed to put his thoughts together. “I know you hardly know me but I wanted to ask your permission. Sacha would say yes no matter what, but that doesn’t mean I’m wanted, you know?” He took a breath. “I can’t imagine living away from him anymore. He’s become like a little brother to me. I took care of him. I helped him break out of his shell and…” Made him ready to live in society again.

Clementine nodded her understanding, taking a step back with a warm smile that created peaks and valleys on her face. “We would love to have you. It’s a long drive to the nearest doctor out here.”

Cyril’s heart sang. “Are you sure?”

Clementine laughed. “Just make sure you get vetted as a Medicaid provider. There’s a lot of people out here on Medicaid and the nearest doctor doesn’t even take it.”

Cyril nodded, smiling. He’d intended to, anyway. “Thank you. I cannot put into words how much I owe you for that.”

“We owe you more, I guarantee that. I just have to ask, don’t you have any family or anything? Anyone who would miss you up there?”

Cyril shook his head, looking a little sad. “I was a foster kid, never adopted. Didn’t really get to know many people. My only real friend died maybe five years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” Clementine gave him a kind look. “You can stay with us until you’re set up.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” Clementine laughed a little. “Go with the other boys and watch some football. Even if you don’t like it.”

Cyril laughed a little. “Never did.”

Clementine laughed heartily. “I never did either.”

—

One month after Sacha’s homecoming…

Each breath that Sacha breathed let out a puff of white steam into the air. The Lake was just starting to ice over as Cyril and Sacha were sitting, feet hanging off the edge, looking out onto the water. They’d cleared a small area for themselves and brought two cushions.

The sky was dark and filled with stars. So far out from the city, you might even see the Milky Way if the night allowed. It was getting late and Sacha was getting tired, but it was tradition to stay up until midnight to open their presents. It was a long-standing tradition in his family for Christmas.

“Sacha,” Cyril began, turning to look at him. The two had hot chocolate warming their hands through their gloves. The winds were always cold on the Lake. 

“Yeah?”

“This is the first Christmas I’m celebrating since Oliver died. I… um, I used to celebrate with his family, but his family stopped wanting to see me after he died.”

Sacha nodded quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Eventually, after an awkwardly long silence, Cyril spoke. “I’m really glad that I found you, Sacha. You’re my family now. Your family has been wonderful to me. Even standing up for me when the cops came to check me out.”

Both of them knew what Cyril was referring to. When news surfaced that the long-missing Sacha Matisse had returned home, the FBI had come to investigate. Upon looking at Emery Abberton’s mansion, they found the bodies of three other victims, victims like Sacha. Sacha was his sole survivor.

Emery’s mother had been covering for him and spilled the whole truth. After that and a quick investigation into Cyril’s connections, Cyril’s name had been cleared, in part because of the way that Sacha’s family stood up for him.

“I never imagined that I’d get out alive.”

Cyril patted him on the back. “None of that matters now. You’re a survivor. Now, you’re home.”

Sacha laughed a little. “I just don’t know what the hell I’m going to do now.”

Cyril got serious. “Study. Learn something. There’s got to be a community college close to here.”

“But what would I study?”

Cyril shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s up to you. You could become a therapist, a social worker. I can see you as a woodworker.”

The two of them sat in silence for a little while longer. “I was thinking about marine health. Something like environmental science but for the Lakes.”

Cyril smiled and laughed. “That suits you. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before.”

Sacha laughed a little too. “I guess it does.”

Sacha’s phone began to buzz in his pocket. He always kept it on do not disturb except for certain family members, one of which was his mother.

Sacha picked up his phone, only to see the time was 11:55pm. 

“Where are you two?” Sacha’s mom sounded panicked, afraid almost. Sacha and Cyril had simply lost track of time, but Sacha was sure that it reminded her all too much of the night that her son disappeared.

“It’s okay, Maman. We’re at the dock. We’ll be there soon.”

Sacha’s mom took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. We’ll see you soon.”

It was a ten-minute walk back to Sacha’s house from the dock, but once they got inside, they were hit with warmth and the twinkling of the Christmas tree.

Sacha’s mom was smiling warmly at the both of them. “Sacha, Cyril, we want you to open your presents first.”

Sacha smiled and nudged Cyril who was a little in shock.

Sacha’s father handed Sacha and Cyril each a box. They motioned for Cyril and Sacha to open it at the same time, which they obliged. Inside, there was matching carved goldfish made from wood, hand-finished and painted. Each one was almost the same, except for those little details that hand-finishing made.

Sacha’s mom was the one that spoke to Sacha first. “We wanted to welcome you both into the family. Sacha, we’re welcoming you back. We want you to know that we’ll always love you, no matter what. Okay? We’re just happy to have you home.”

“And Cyril,” Sacha’s father said next, not giving Sacha even a moment to absorb what had been said, “The goldfish is a symbol of our family. We wanted you to have one that matched Sacha’s. You’re a part of this family now. You saved our son. If ever you need a place to go, we’ll always be here for you. Regardless. Okay?”

Cyril bit his lip, tears forming in his eyes. Though Sacha had heard the speech about loving him unconditionally many times over the past month, Cyril was being welcomed for the first time. Cyril nodded a bit, struggling to absorb the information.

“Th-” his voice broke a bit. “Thank you. This means so much to me. Thank you.”

Sacha’s mom looked upon Cyril with kind eyes. “Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

Cyril nodded, but the disbelief was palpable. 

“Let’s move onto your other presents.”

For Cyril - all new gardening tools, scented lotion for his hands, and an invitation to work on the garden in front of Sacha’s house. Again, Cyril was emotional. After all, now he had two gardens - Sacha’s and his own.

For Sacha - a new, thick blanket and bed sheets for his room, a Buffalo Bills jersey, signed by a star player that even Sacha didn’t recognize but knew was important from his father’s pride, and a new cat tower for his room for Amber. 

Sacha didn’t have money to buy his mom and dad gifts, but Cyril had given them each $100 in cash, explaining that he didn’t know them well enough to buy them presents quite yet.

The two understood. Of course they did.

As the night wound down and the tiredness set in, Cyril went to the guest room and Sacha went to his bedroom that hadn’t changed much since he’d disappeared. 

Lying there, Sacha felt warm and loved in a way he hadn’t before. His mind went to Emery, but he quickly thought of the goldfish, of Cyril, of his parents, and of the content feeling that now rested in his chest. The image of Emery didn’t belong there anymore.

Sacha didn’t just own himself.

He was his own person now, with a brother and parents. He was happy. But, most importantly, Sacha was at peace.

That peace was worth more than gold and tasted sweeter than any nectar from the heavens.

===

Taglist: @whumpsday @i-can-even-burn-salad @pigeonwhumps @darkthingshappen @pumpkin-spice-whump @darlingwhump @maracujatangerine @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @flowersarefreetherapy @octopus-reactivated @quietshae @whump-blog @inkkswhumpandstuff @whumpycries @whumpkinz @roblingoblin285

#shadow by my fireplace #whump #whumpblr #whump fic #whump writing #completed whump work #whump work #whump community #sacha #cyril #happy ending #recovery whump

[fuckin-sick-bih]

Things We Do For Love

Fandom: Original Fiction Summary: After covering for his younger brother Silas' mistake, Hale briefly meets with him at the edge of the woods and then intends to spend the night alone at the Treehouse. Except an unexpected visitor won't let him wallow in peace. CW: Implied abuse prior to the story's opening, none talked about or present within. No descriptions of mess, just mentions of congestion, stuffy talk, coughing, and of course... snz. Cold Fic! + whump Word Count: 2710 words MINORS DNI Author Note: So... I have no idea if y'all like some random plot with your snz but... This is the era of Hale's life long before he meets Jessie or is run out of the Alaska packs etc. Silas is 18, which makes Hale 23, soon to be 24 in this specific snippet of time. Usually, I write Hale and Jessie in their 30's, but I started writing plot that turned into Sort Of Not Plot? and just rolled with it. So this has some new characters y'all have not met before and no Jessie! Sorry! And oops, all platonic fluff love.

Copper tainted his mouth as Hale pushed himself harder, feeling his lungs burn with the effort. Cool air raked in and out of him, making him stumble and hack as he finally slowed a little once he hit the trees. All around him, the foliage was bright and practically on fire with vibrant colors of red, orange, yellow, and, of course, the ever-steady green conifers. 

Not that he could see most of the reds and some oranges at the moment. Most of them blended into something of an attractive yellow-green to his wolf eyes. 

He slowed to a steady trot, one of his nails catching a rock that was sent flying into the brush ahead. Lowering his head, Hale began trying to pick out the surrounding scents, though he didn’t have much luck, and thankfully, he didn’t have to fumble long.

“Was he rough?”

From the brush to Hale’s left came a familiar voice and an even more familiar blinding pelt as his brother Silas crept from the underbrush. It hurt his head just looking at the sun reflecting off his brother’s fur.

A quiet huff left him, Hale still panting and out of breath from the run, and shook his head once before shaking the tension from his entire body. Another stab of pain struck hard just behind the eyes from his movements. “He was his usual self, Nanook…” 

Though his voice didn’t come out quite right, too flat and cold. Devoid of the emotion he’d tried to put into it. 

Silas put one paw forward, ears and head lowered while tucking his tail. The pup had already outgrown him at eighteen. His snow-white form towering over Hale’s own silver bulk. His younger brother’s attempts at submission looked ridiculous.

It made something vile and angry bubble in Hale’s veins. He flattened back his ears with a low growl. “Don’t do that.” The elder of the two snapped suddenly, practically baring his teeth at the younger without even thinking.

In an instant, Silas straightened up and sat down as if their father was right there with them, and Hale’s anger only flamed higher as his brother kept his muzzle pointed towards the duft of the forest floor. “Sorry, Natchiq…” 

He took a deep breath and sighed it out slow and steady like Hale was trying to force the anger from his body by sheer willpower. Part of Hale wondered if Silas ever really understood just how much he stepped in for him. Hale moved forward to gently take the tip of Silas’ ear between his front teeth for a gentle, playful tug. Even as his father’s words rattled around in his brain for a few moments, his tone was gentler this time. Something soft and understanding because Hale couldn’t bring himself to be a hypocrite. “Get out of here, Nanook. I’m not covering for you again like that. I won’t say don’t sneak out again, just… Don’t get caught again.” 

The sudden sound of leaves and twigs being swept back and forth broke the sounds of Morgan’s voice in Hale’s mind as Silas’ tail began whipping back and forth a mile a minute. “You’re the best brother on the planet, you know that? Thank you, Hale. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, go see your girlfriend. And I don’t wanna see you for at least three days.” Hale grumbled good-naturedly and bumped his shoulder against Silas in an almost playful way as his brother launched himself back in the direction of town. The relief he’d seen wash over his brother’s form yanked horribly at something inside Hale.

The way Silas’ shoulders had visibly sagged, ears perked, and even his breathing had just seemed to come easier. Hale let his ears and tail droop now that he was alone and dragged himself up for the last leg of the walk toward the old treehouse.

Years ago, he and Silas had built the treehouse as somewhere to escape from their father. From the pressure of someday taking over leadership of the pack. Of the town. Of part of Alaska… 

Hale stubbornly pushed through his various aches, the one in his hip giving him the most trouble after hitting the corner of his father’s desk during their shouting match. He reached the ladder and shifted, letting his body adjust to the new proportions and senses momentarily. 

It was only then he really realized just how terrible he felt. 

One hand grabbed hold of the ladder for support as Hale bunched up his jacket sleeve to rub at his nose with a sniff. It felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Exhaustion pulled at his very bones as he looked up at the ways he had to climb. Sniffling and with resignation, he hauled himself up the ladder one rung at a time until he collapsed inside and shut the latch behind him.

A few raspy, dry coughs escaped him, and he winced as they grated against his sore throat. He’d thought it had just been sore from the yelling match and a couple of late nights he’d been staying up drinking with friends. Now, it felt like his head was heavy, full, and congested, while his throat was tickly and irritated. No wonder running here had been a nightmare when usually it wasn’t half bad. Sure, his cardio was shit, but it wasn’t that shit.

A prickling sensation in his sinuses drew his attention, and Hale groaned softly as he knew what was coming, struggling to sit himself up in preparation. His breath caught and teased while his nostrils flared, practically egging that ticklish prickling sensation further while his eyes watered from the irritation. 

“Heh… Guh hih-! Ugh, c’mon,” Hale growled as one of his calloused hands came up to paw roughly at his nose, wincing a little. At least it wasn’t broken, he thought to himself.

Before he could coax the sneeze any further, however, there was a knock just before the hatch in the floor swung open to reveal a silky mop of dark curls that popped in. “What the fuck are you doing?” Came the voice of none other than Mari Beckett. 

Unable to form a coherent sentence or thought, Hale simply flipped her the middle finger before yanking his sweatshirt up over his slowly bruising face as he finally sneezed. “HehhEXT’SHH! IhhT’SHHuue! Oh, fuck me…”

“Maybe when you’re less contagious, Hawthorn. You look like shit.” Mari had seemingly let herself in while Hale was otherwise occupied and, as she usually did in his house, made herself right at home in the treehouse. “I saw your brother when he got into town. Asked for directions to you, and he guessed you’d be here.”

“That runt. I’ll get him for squealing on where our treehouse is…” Hale mumbled, tipping his head back to rest against the insulation on the wall, though there wasn’t any malice in his tone. In fact, he sounded completely unbothered. “Snitches get… s-huh…stitch-esTSHHiew! Kit’SHHiew Ekt’shhhuh! Huh…”

This time, it had been a scramble just to get his hand in front of his face as his head snapped forward with the three wet sneezes. One large hand covered his mouth and nose before pulling back with a little grimace and wiping his palm on his jeans. “Fuck, sorry, Mari. What’d you need from me?”

As Hale was blinking and trying to refocus his gaze on one of his best friends since puphood, he found her just sitting there on her knees, staring at him with some odd look. He frowned and sniffed, bringing the cuff of his jacket sleeve up to swipe at his nose some more. “Seriously, Mari, what-”

One of her hands reached out and rested on his boot-covered ankle. Somewhere safe to initiate touch on days like today, and she knew it. He knew it. Anyone who knew Hale knew it if they didn’t want their shit rocked. 

“Take a break.”

The words surprised him, and Hale swallowed awkwardly, blinking a few times as he tried to think of how to respond before he just… laughed. Chesty and stilted. “Mari, I can’t-” And then his body seemed to drown out his protest with its own. Hale’s ticklish throat would be ignored no longer either as he turned away to cough into his fist. 

“You’re coming back to my place until those bruises start turning a different color, and you stop being a walking plague.” Mari insisted and gave his bootlaces a little tug. “Even if I have to tie you to my bed to get you to stay and rest somewhere.” There was a grin spreading over her face now as she waited for Hale’s coughing to finish.

Clearing his throat before speaking, Hale gave her an exhausted smile back. “Kinky. That a threat or a promise?” After a few deep breaths, he nodded and leaned forward to give her hand a little pat. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever. But we’re ordering…” 

The tickle was creeping back in, disrupting the flow of his words and making his breathing stutter in sudden and sharp. “Hih-ih! Ch-hih!“ It was all Hale could do to yank his sweatshirt collar back up over his face just after he spoke next. ”Chinese food- HiihIXT’SHHiew! Ext’SHHhue! Fuck, sorry.” An uncomfortably thick sniffle escaped Hale, and he groaned, head swimming with the congestion that had been steadily building throughout his terror of a day. 

“Some cold, Hawthorn. You never do anything halfway, huh?” Mari said as she opened the hatch door in the floor to head down first. “We can definitely get Chinese food. I’ll even make you my mom’s special lemon ginger tea. How’s that sound, big guy? Spicy chicken and hot tea?”

A little groan escapes Hale, both from the effort of moving his painfully sore and tired body as well as imagining how damn good that chicken and tea will be. “Sounds fucking amazing.” And he began his descent down the ladder after her, the two heading back to town at a leisurely pace interspersed with pauses for Hale’s sneezing and coughing fits as needed.

The rest of the night was spent over soup, spicy chicken and noodles, tea, and terrible movies. Mari eventually convinced Hale to take cold medicine, but only if she downed a tequila shot with him in solidarity, which she bravely shivered through.

“Please just take the NyQuil,” Mari said in exasperation, setting the bottle on the counter as she faced Hale, who had a box of tissues tucked under his arm like a football.

“I’d rather die.”

“You’re such a drama queen. No wonder you can’t keep a girlfriend.”

Hale rolled his bloodshot eyes and glared at her, “Oh, you’re ode to talk…” The congestion had progressed to the point of distorting his speech, and he was snuffling every few moments when not swiping at it with a crumpled-up tissue. 

Already, Mari was pouring him a serving of the thick syrup and checking her fridge, “Don’t get pissy with me just because you have the Man Flu. Now, what do you want as a chaser?”

The question seemed to jog Hale’s congestion-stuffed brain because his head perked up a little, hesitating before he answered. “If I’b taki’g that shit, you have to take a shot. Also, juice… please?” His please was added a moment after Mari’s piercing glare was shot over her shoulder at him as she remained bent half in her fridge.

“Cranberry juice work?” Mari asks as she pulls out the plastic container to set it on the counter before sauntering over to her liquor cabinet. “Fuck it… whatever it takes.” And soon, there was a shot of tequila in one hand and a lime in the other. 

A little pile of salt was stacked neatly in her palm, Hale noted as he peeked down at her after pouring his glass of juice. “Cheers…” He said with a grumble and picked up the plastic cup to knock back the syrup like a shot as best he could. 

At the same time, from the corner of his eye, he heard and saw Mari do the same with her tequila shot. Licking her salt, downing her alcohol, and hastily sucking on her lime with a shudder. He couldn’t help a chuckle as he sipped at his juice while watching her, trying to ignore the bitter, cloying, and clinging taste of the NyQuil. “Poor thi’g,” He rasped and cleared his throat. 

Mari leaned against the counter and gave another little shiver before straightening up. “Shut it. I’m good. I’m cool. I’m so good. We’re good. Hoo.” She nodded and smirked at him, giving him a little pat on one of his pale cheeks. “We should get you settled on the couch before you’re down for the count. You’re too big for me to move. I’m a strong woman, but not lift a six foot one dumbass strong.”

A soft, amused huff escaped Hale, but it only made the tickle in his nose flare. “Hehh… H-hang on… Hihiih-! Gonna-! Hehhh! Heh!...” The tickle built and built, teasing him as it had him leaning on the kitchen island with his mouth hung open in pre-sneeze desperation. Only for the feeling to trickle off. “Fuck… false al-” 

And just like that, it came rushing back as he sucked in an inhale, and Hale jerked down towards his own chest, one hand flying to try and cover his face. “HEXt’Shiew! Huh… Huh’Gk’tshhhiew! Oh, fuck b’me, what the hell was that?” His second sneeze had come out half-stifled sounding, and Hale’s ears were ringing from it. 

When he opened his eyes finally, it was to the sight of Mari frowning at him. “That didn’t sound good. Do you want more tea? It might help your sinuses?” 

Hale shook his head and snuffled, clearing his throat a little again. “D’no. It’s fide. I just wadda lay dowd add sleep, y’kdow?” He says softly, trying to give her a small smile, but even he knows how tired it is.

“Blow your nose, Hawthorn. Then join me on the couch. I’ll get your nest ready. I’m not your mate, but I won’t let my best friend rot in a treehouse.” Mari said, giving his hip a little pat on the way. “And for the record, I do have a girlfriend.” She added playfully, hinting at their conversation from earlier, which made Hale’s eyes bulge. 

“Sidce whed?!” Hale demanded immediately before having to pause and cough, holding the counter once more. “Is she- bei’g good to you-?” He sputtered out between coughs in his fit. “I wadda beet her!” 

There was an insistence in his voice as he scrubbed at his nose with his sweatshirt sleeve cuff, sniffling a little more. Then he gave his nose a productive blow before he headed into the living room, where Mari had already set up a spot with some blankets and pillows for him on the couch. “You’re an angel, y’know that? And hey-” He caught her wrist a moment.

Hale looked into Mari’s warm, chocolate-brown eyes with his own forested hazel. “I’m happy for you.” He says quietly, nostrils twitching as his cleared sinuses threaten to overwhelm him with ticklish urges once again. “Hih… Sorrehh EKSH’tiew! Sorry, just a sehh hEXkt’Shhiew! HenX’tShiew! Ugh, damn it…” 

He’d turned to face in the complete opposite direction but kept a hold of her wrist. Each sneeze caused him to squeeze her wrist tighter for just a moment.

“Bless you, go lay down before you fall down. Go.” Mari urged and gave him a little shove towards the couch, the smile on her face soft. As Hale settled into the sofa, he wrapped himself into the blankets and dropped his head on a pillow. 

Once as comfortable as he could get, he grunted and nodded toward the other end of the couch. “There’s room for two.” He complained with a smug little smile growing on his face. “Put on another movie, and m’sure I’ll be out in no time.” The statement was even punctuated by a wide yawn that made Hale cough a little at the end of it. 

The night ended with the two of them snoring on opposite ends of the couch, legs tangled beneath a shared blanket, and the television softly muttering as it played the newest Home Rescue episode.

#snz #snz kink #snzfic #snzblr #hale hawthorn #mari beckett #silas hawthorn #cold fic #sick fic #oc snz fic

[pigeonwhumps]

First day part 1

Sam and Lucan masterlist

Taglist: @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @onlybadendings @whumpofdory @haro-whumps

Lucan's first day living with Sam.

Divided into two parts because I feel like I've been starving y'all of Sam and Lucan content and I wanted to give you some. Lucan's been brutalised in the auction house enough for the time being.

2.8k

CWs: past rape, past slavery, pet whump, non-human whumpee (faerie), conditioning, past food and drink denial, past electric shocks

“I think he was raped.”

“Who was?” asks Amanda sharply.

“Lucan.”

“Sam, I cannot express to you how little that name means to me right now.”

Ah. “I... haven’t told you yet, have I?”

“About Lucan? No.”

“He's a faerie. Until last night, Caroline Jones' pet-class slave.”

Amanda sighs. “Is this why the news is talking about her house burning down? Sam, what did you do?”

“You know I had that interview with her yesterday? Well, she brought Lucan with her, and it was awful. She wouldn't even let him have a drink because he didn't 'deserve it'. She was boasting about not giving him solid food. He was so scared, Amanda, I couldn't just leave him there!” They swallow hard. “And when Luke brought him here... we had to cut his hair, because part of it was burnt, and he started crying when I said I wouldn't do so without his permission. That he could cut it himself if he preferred. You know how much hair means to faeries. Between that and the name Caroline gave him... how much has he been violated over the years that treating him with basic respect makes him cry?”

“I don't disagree with you taking him in, Sam, I never would. I'd be a hypocrite if I did.”

“True.”

“So. You said he was raped?” she asks through a mouthful of something.

“Oh shit, I forgot you were working today. I'm so sorry.”

“You're lucky. You caught me on my break. Tell me why you think Lucan was raped.”

“He offered himself up to me. I went in this morning to see if he wanted breakfast, and he just... offered himself. To be raped. And I don't, I mean, Caroline doesn't seem the type but...”

There’s silence from the other end of the line for nearly a full minute before Amanda says, “do you remember those giveaways she held? There was an advert for one in the paper once.”

They do remember now. It was a line of print in an article about Caroline, urging people to visit her Instagram page for a chance to win. Top prize: the use of her pet for the weekend. “You used it for kindling.”

“Well, I don’t have a litter tray to put it in.”

“Or a cat.”

“Or a cat,” she agrees.

“So you think that Lucan’s been raped by one of those winners?”

“One or more, I'd say. You know what the people who try to win those things are like. And as long as it's not permanent, visible damage I can't see her caring.”

They swallow. They don't even want to think about it, but they have to. “Will you do me a favour and examine him? Not just because of the rape, I mean he has scars and injuries everywhere, and I want to make sure nothing's too serious.”

“If anything was infected you'd probably know by now, but I'll come over later. Has he eaten yet?”

“No. I was going to make him eggs as soon as I'd woken him, but then... well, this happened.”

“Okay. Feed him and try and make him comfortable. The less scared he is when I do the tests the better.”

“He'll still be terrified, but I'll do my best. I was going to do that anyway, I don't want him scared of me.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you happen to have any tips? For taking care of him, I mean, I know you've treated slaves and ex-slaves before, and you know Kara, so I was just wondering...”

"Yeah, actually. Give him some rules. They don't have to be anything big, but he needs some kind of structure. And try not to feel rejected if he stays scared, or doesn't believe you won't hurt him. Judging by what I know happened to Kara, he has good reason to feel that way.”

“Cheers. Well, I'd better let you get back to what you were doing.”

“I'll see you soon then.” She hangs up and they clutch the mobile like a lifeline as they head towards their room. Hopefully Lucan's dressed this time.

_

Lucan dresses himself carefully, pulling on the sweatshirt and too-short tracksuit bottoms. He wraps the scarf back around his neck and he immediately feels better. Warmer. The warm, soft weight around his neck is comforting. Then he kneels on the floor, waiting for Master to return.

He doesn't understand. If Master didn't want to use him like that, why did they give him a bed? The small relief he feels at not having to do that is overriden by his fear. Master told him to rest some more and get dressed. What's Master got in store for him that's bad enough that he has to rest first? Old Mistress never let him rest on a bed. Master's punishments must be more severe than hers, then.

Punishment for what? What's he done wrong? He hasn't done anything that Master hasn't ordered him to since he arrived.

Luke, maybe?

It doesn't matter what your opinion is, 12735, says a handler in his head, if your owner says you need to be punished you need it and that's the end of the matter. So get down there, take the punishment, and be damned grateful she's bothering to teach you.

Lucan swallows. He knows he needs to be punished, he always does, he just... doesn't understand anything here.

The door creaks open and he tenses, eyes on Master's fluffy socks as they approach.

“Hi Lucan. Um, you can look at me if you like.” Lucan glances up briefly. Master doesn't look too angry, but their arms are still lean and muscly and if they choose they can hurt him badly. It doesn't matter if they're not angry now, that can change. Lucan looks away quickly. “Oh, well, you don't have to. But you're dressed, that's good. I've made us both breakfast, if you want some. Come with me.”

Lucan crawls along behind Master until they reach the kitchen.

“Great. Great. Why don't you stay there while I sort out breakfast?”

Lucan stops by the door and waits, patiently, waiting for the trick and the pain, watching as Master bustles around the small kitchen, fetching bits and pieces. He wonders what they're going to do. Surely it can't be actual, good, solid food, he's done nothing to earn that. What's Master doing to give him?

_

Sam glances at Lucan intermittently as they prepare the food, doubling back to fetch cutlery. The faerie looks worried. Sam still has no idea what's going through his head, but at least they can provide him with a warm breakfast.

“Do you like eggs? I forgot to ask earlier.” Lucan nods and Sam smiles. “Excellent.” They busy themself with the toaster, then pour out a glass of milk, setting it on the floor beside the faerie. “You can drink that, if you want. I'm sorry, I didn't offer you anything last night, so you must be thirsty. I didn't mean to, it's just... last night was a lot. Anyway. Drink, if you like. There's nothing in it to hurt you.”

After a nervous glance up at them, Lucan takes the glass in both hands and sips at it, then seems to change his mind and downs the milk. He looks surprised.

“You really are thirsty, huh? Would you like some more?” Lucan nods and bows as Sam hands him another glass. He drinks that one in one gulp too. Sam smiles slightly and turns back to the eggs, placing one carefully in a garish novelty eggcup, talking to Lucan as they do so. They can't stop themself rambling.

“I wasn't sure how you eat them so I've cooked both eggs differently, there's a hardboiled one and a dippy egg with soldiers. I've cut the top off that one already because the only cutlery I have that won't hurt you is a plastic ice cream sundae spoon, no idea where from. Fine for the inside of the egg but it wouldn't cut through the shell. Oh, speaking of shells, I've left the one on the hardboiled egg, you can eat it with or without the shell. Um... I want you to eat it whichever way you prefer. It would... make me happy, if you did that.” Sam hopes they've phrased that enough like an order that Lucan will do it. It makes them uneasy but Lucan needs to eat. Once Lucan's breakfast is plated they pour a bowl of Coco Pops for themself, then carry both over to the table. “Will you sit up here and eat?” Lucan darts a glance up at Sam, then lowers it again and shakes his head. Sam carefully doesn't sigh. “Right. I'll just have to sit on the floor with you then.”

They sit down against the wall, balancing the bowl on their legs and placing Lucan's plate and the carton of milk in front of him. The faerie flinches.

Sam reaches up a hand, careful to keep it within Lucan's line of sight, and scratches his scalp. The faerie melts into it.

“You're good, Lucan. Wherever you choose to sit, you're good. I like sitting on the floor anyway, it's always good to have some floor time.” He nods towards the plate of eggs. “Go on. Eat. And feel free to pour yourself another drink if you want one, or just drink the milk from the carton.”

Lucan takes a tentative bite of the hard-boiled egg, shell and all, his face brightening as he seems to realise it's not going to hurt him. He eats it quickly, hunched over it slightly. Once Sam realises that he's definitely going to eat all his food, they start on their own. The coco pops are a bit soggy now, but still tasty.

Once they've both eaten, Sam stands, taking the faerie's empty plate and leaving it on the table with their own. Then they sit down opposite Lucan, who glances up at them tentatively before letting his gaze fall again.

“So. I think we should lay down some basic rules. Is that okay?” Lucan nods. “Okay. Good. So, firstly, you need to know that I will never rape you, or do anything to you sexually. I will never, ever hurt you like that, or let anyone else do so, and if anyone tries you're to tell me, Lucan, as soon as you can. Because raping you isn't acceptable. Understand?” He nods again. “Good. Good. That's the most important one. Okay, so the next rule is that I want you to eat at least twice a day. Three times would be ideal, but given how much it looks like you've been eating I'm not sure your body would be able to manage that. When was the last time you even ate solid food?” They pull out their phone and open the notes app, sliding it across the floor to Lucan. “Here. Write it down.”

Lucan takes the phone, thinking, and writes, New Year's Eve, Master.

Sam swallows. Christ. That was months ago, it's autumn now.

“Yeah. You definitely won't manage solid food three times a day. But I'm not buying you those shakes, they're disgusting and I very much doubt they're filling. We'll just have to build up to it. And you can just call me Sam.” Lucan bends his head, hands braced on the tiles. “Hey. I'm not going to punish you for not calling me Sam. You didn't know, and I imagine it's a big change. I bet you haven't called anyone by their name for years, have you?” Lucan shakes his head. “Thought so. I'm not cross, Lucan, I promise. Why don't you sit back up properly so we can finish going over the rules?”

Lucan obeys, sitting back on his heels, trembling slightly. Sam scratches his head.

“Good. That's good. You're okay Lucan, I won't hurt you.” When Lucan looks a little better, Sam withdraws their hand and sits back. “The next rule is that I want you to remind me to eat. I'm not very good at it. Come and fetch me when you're eating, no matter what I'm doing or what time it is. That rule doesn't apply if I'm not here, obviously. There's plenty of food in the cupboards and the fridge, you can eat anything you like. You can cook, too, if you like. Can you cook?” Lucan nods. “Great. I'm a terrible cook. That doesn't mean you have to, but if you want a cooked meal feel free to make one. Oh! You can fetch a drink whenever you like. There's milk in the fridge and squash in the bottom cupboard, and obviously water in the tap. Please drink whenever you like, I don't want you getting dehydrated. That starts from now, by the way. Umm...” Sam pauses. They didn't think this through ahead of time. They should have. What other rules can they give Lucan? “Okay. I want you to try standing or walking for at least ten minutes each day. I noticed last night that your muscles aren't used to standing, which is fine, so we'll build up the time from there until you can walk properly instead of crawling everywhere. But for now, I want you to do something on your feet for at least ten minutes a day. If you can't manage it in one block, don't worry, you can spread it out. Okay?” The faerie nods, looking slightly confused. Well, there's nothing Sam can do about that. “Good. The last rule then is that you can sleep and use the bathroom whenever you like. You don't need to ask my permission. I'm guessing that you probably have before, but you don't need to here. I often get distracted or have to go to work stuff and don't end up finishing until late, and I don't want you staying awake because you feel you have to wait for my permission.” Lucan nods, and Sam rubs his head, feeling awkward all of a sudden. “That's everything, I think. Sorry, I tend to ramble a lot when I'm nervous, or when I'm not actually too, but... did you get all that?”

_

Lucan nods firmly. Yes, he got it. He heard the rules, he knows what he has to do. He didn't hear what the punishments will be, though, but that's okay. Maybe Master... Master Sam likes to keep him on tenterhooks. Maybe they think Lucan will behave better if he doesn't know the punishment. That's okay, that's their right.

He knows what he has to do, but he doesn't understand. And he knows he doesn't need to but... these rules are so simple. There's so few of them. And they don't seem unpleasant at all. What's the point of them? What does Master Sam even want with him? They apparently don't want him for sex, and they haven't given him much to do... surely reminding them to eat and cooking sometimes can't be all they want him for? Why go to all the trouble of stealing him for that?

And why is Master Sam apologising? Everything Lucan's owner does is right, he knows that, they don't need to apologise.

Still. None of that matters. Master Sam will tell Lucan what he needs to know, when he needs to know it, and that's all that matters, 12735, you piece of faerie scum, stop trying to think like a person. So he nods, phantoms of electric shocks skittering over his skin.

“Good. Good.”

They look uncertain now and Lucan decides to test the rules. Master Sam didn't punish him for calling them by the wrong name earlier, they sat down with him and were... strange, and although he doesn't understand why they like to sit on the floor they haven't lied to him yet. So, feeling his thirst even more than he did before the first drink, heart pounding, he unscrews the carton of milk and carefully pours some out. With a quick glance at Master Sam, who nods encouragingly, he drinks it, determined to savour it this time. He doesn't know how long Master Sam will let him drink regularly for – maybe until he looks to their liking.

As soon as he puts the glass down, Master Sam reaches out, and Lucan flinches, expecting something painful from their muscular arms that could hurt a lot but haven't yet – they must be adding up their disobediences and hesitations so they can punish him for all of them efficiently, and maybe that time is now – but it doesn't hurt. All Master Sam does is scratch his scalp, and he melts.

“You did good, Lucan. You're okay. You're doing good, you're good. You always are.”

But is that last part praise or a threat? Lucan can't tell, and even though he can't help but lean into Master Sam's touch, it scares him. He'll have to do his best not to disobey so that threat doesn't become a promise.

Even though it inevitably will.

#whump writing #pet whump #fae whump #whumpee thinks caretaker is their new whumper #recovery whump #whump #non human whumpee #fae whumpee #whumpee and caretaker #past rape #sam and lucan #sam johnson #lucan oc #amanda burke #conditioning

[skywalking-through-life]

Sorry, I accidentally sent without finishing!

I was wondering if you would ever consider writing a sickfic set in Percy's senior year? After reading all of your other fics I feel like that would fit so well. I could totally see Percy acting fine but Mrs. Lafayette and Annabeth and his family being worried and caring.

Feel free to ignore this! I love your writing and would read whatever you create, I just thought that idea would fit well in your universe!

Oh my goodness, hello friend, this is such a sweet ask! Thank you for the compliments in the part of the ask that got cut off, AND for the compliments in this part! You are too kind, and it means everything to me to know how much you've been enjoying my fics! Hearing that you'll read whatever I create makes me a little weepy, because all I've ever wanted was that y'all would enjoy what I post. 💙

AND, thank you SO MUCH for this wonderful idea! I've played with the idea of writing sickfic quite a bit, but it seems to become whump more often than not, lol. I actually am planning on exploring some things very subtly in the still-to-come chapters of '[conduct] not unbecoming,' continuing on the theme of 'Percy is healing from injuries slower now than he used to,' but that is more in the area of chronic illness, rather than acute. (And spoilers: there will be a LOT of medical themes in the sequel to this series!) But I will absolutely ponder a more acute illness that I can give him, because you're definitely right and I agree - a sickfic WOULD fit well into this little universe that I've been building. Thank you so much for sending this ask and this idea! I love receiving them. 💙

#sweet online friends #thank you for making my day! #percy jackson #pjo hoo toa cotg #pjo fic #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy's senior year (mis)adventures

[suspicious-pools-of-blood]

I posted 865 times in 2022

That's 544 more posts than 2021!

33 posts created (4%)

832 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@i-can-even-burn-salad

@whumpwillow

@painsandconfusion

@winedark-whump

@emcscared-whumps

I tagged 245 of my posts in 2022

#prompts - 16 posts

#reference - 11 posts

#suspicious pools of asks - 8 posts

#whump - 7 posts

#mine - 6 posts

#oc art - 6 posts

#elvan - 6 posts

#child of korsan - 4 posts

#👀👀👀 - 4 posts

#worldbuilding - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#haven't read them in a year but lana popović's lady slayers series has 2 fantastic books out that i'm 99% sure fit all these requirements

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Heroforge finally released two-character minis to the general userbase. Do y'all even understand the whumpy potential here

6 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

#4

Do Not Compare Me To Him

CW: manhandling, minor whump (14 y/o), very vague implied allusion to past dub/noncon, allusion to past domestic abuse

The first time Elvan hit Daxe, it was an accident. Well, it was intentional, but she had only briefly lost her cool. She had already been incredibly on edge all day and when she finally left the throne room she wanted nothing but peace, quiet, and Asenath’s calming presence. So when she opened the door to her chambers, she was not thrilled to find Daxe there. Hours earlier she had told him not to follow her to the throne room, and apparently he had taken that instruction to heart; the only indication that he had even moved from where she’d left him was that he was now kneeling on the rug rather than standing.

She heaved an exasperated sigh. “Why are you like this?”

The boy looked genuinely confused. “I...I’m not sure, master. Did—did I do something wrong?”

He seemed to shrink in on himself even as he asked the question. He had followed all her commands, hadn’t he? How had he managed to screw up something as simple as this? She was clearly angry at him for something.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Elvan muttered under her breath. “Daxe, stand up. I don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing here.”

He scrambled to his feet and licked his lips before answering. “I, I—I just wish to please you, master, if you would allow it.”

“Daxe...” Elvan started again, trying to keep her irritation in check. “It would please me if you stopped trying.”

“My old master, he—”

Before Daxe even realized Elvan had moved, she had grabbed the boy by the jaw, jerking his head up to look at her, fingers digging into his cheeks. For a long moment, they both stood in silence, wide-eyed and trembling, Daxe from utter terror, Elvan from a sudden tsunami of some unidentifiable emotion that wasn’t quite anger, but wasn’t far off. He had accidentally struck a chord that even Elvan didn’t know she had. She looked at him for a long moment before speaking again, quietly but forcefully.

“I am not Theos. Theos is dead, he is no one’s master now.” She clenched her jaw. “I know what he did to you. Whenever I put up too much of a fight, I know he would take it out on you. Theos was not a good man, but I’m not him, and whatever you had with him, you don’t have with me. You’re a child, Daxe. I’m not going to do that to you. Do not compare me to him.”

Elvan let go of the boy, who immediately dropped his eyes back to the ground and started stumbling through an apology. “I—I’m-m sorry, m-master, I’m—I d-didn’t mean to off-offend you. I just, just th-thought you'd—”

And with that, Elvan struck him, open palm colliding with his cheek with enough force to snap his head to the side and send him stumbling backwards, where he crashed into the table and fell to the ground. Everything was blurry through the tears that suddenly filled his eyes and he curled into a ball on the floor in anticipation of the beating that was surely about to happen.

For Elvan's part, it hadn't really been a conscious decision; it was just the most efficient way of getting him to shut up. But as the warm tingling spread across her hand where it had made contact, she felt a new sensation in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't anger this time; if anything, she felt calmer. No, it was something else.

She gazed down at the boy cowering on the floor at her feet. Daxe, realizing she wasn't actively trying to hit him again, got to his hands and knees and was sobbing incoherent apologies with his forehead pressed to the floor. In that moment she knew exactly what it was.

It was power. Total power, not like the political power she wielded as regent, dependent upon countless other people and the existence and stability of an intricate societal structure. No, this was the type of power that would remain when the rest of the world fell away.

It was intoxicating.

Elvan took a sharp breath in, shaking herself from her thoughts. She turned away abruptly and pointed to the open door.

“Get out,” she ordered. With only a moment of hesitation, the boy stumbled to his feet, ducking his head as he ran out of the room. Elvan closed the door and leaned her forehead against the rough wood, listening to the footsteps receding quickly down the hall.

“I am not Theos,” she repeated under her breath. “I am not Theos.”

11 notes - Posted March 31, 2022

#3

WIJ Day 1: Reintroduction

❤️ Name: Ash

💛 Gender: butch (he/him)

💙 Favorite season: winter

❤️ Average amount of sleep: 7-9 hours, I used up all my not-sleeping capabilities in high school

💛 Dream job: hackerman

💙 Blog established: My first post is from June 26th, 2021 (although it's totally inaccurate now lmao don't read it), so over a year ago now!

❤️ Reason for URL: My friend from high school once described my writing style/genre from back then as "suspicious pools of blood", and really that's only ever gotten more accurate.

💛 Fave Whump Tropes: In no particular order: intimate whumpers, whumper being the closest thing to a caretaker that whumpee gets, captivity, pet whump (sometimes), whipping, branding, knives, nsfwhump (sometimes), lady whumpers

💙 Projects you’re working on: My overarching story is Legends of Kainat, which includes a few different overlapping stories, but Child of Korsan is the main one. I've also got a modern AU with the same characters.

❤️ Favorite color: black and red, because I am a caricature of myself :')

💛 Anything else you’d like to add: I'm (very slowly) working on a new and improved masterlist, but in the meantime, feel free to poke around what I've already got up (and tell me if you want to be tagged in something!)

12 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

#2

Yeah sex is cool, but have you ever discovered your old forgotten worldbuilding notes about a part of your setting you've been procrastinating on developing and then realized your initial ideas can still totally apply and haven't been invalidated by other worldbuilding you've done since then?

12 notes - Posted September 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

It's hERE!!!

It is genuinely so surreal to see my OCs' names in print, like physical ink on paper in a professionally bound book. I spent a good half hour just like, running my fingers over the text, words I've read hundreds of times on a screen, now in an actual book that came from Barnes and Noble. Thank you so much @thewhumpyprintingpress for making this happen!

15 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[its-my-whump]

Hey there, I'm new here.

Found tumblr not even a year ago and my world was turned. I always thought, I was a freak and maybe wired wrongly that I do like what I like.

I didn't even know, there was something like whump, that it had a name and a whole community. I'm so happy, I found y'all.

Thought, I could never talk to anyone about this and even share my enthusiasm, let alone read so much great stuff about it (without searching for hours on end to find just a hint of whump somewhere between the lines).

Now, I'm in the (un-)fortunate position to experience some of the whump, I'm so drawn to, myself, for I just broke my ankle last Saturday. I went to the E.R. much too late and in addition also need to get surgury. Means, I have some time on my hands now and some suffering to live through.

Heads-up. I'm not good at this stuff, bloggs, social media and so on. I'm still 37, but mostly refuse to fight through all this new technical stuff, because I grew up without it and see, I still grew up. I don't wanna step on anyone's tows. That's just me. I'm not that good in keeping contact and answer right away, if anyone every wants to get in touch. I don't want to offend anyone by that, but for more than 37 years, I'm still adjusting to this thing called daily routine and social life at all, sorry.

And by the way, I hardly know what I'm doing here period. For reading on tumblr is fairly easy, instead of writing, I just had to realise.

I'm spending sooo much time here, reading all your great storys, I wanted to give something back, share some. Maybe some of you will like it and have a good time, like I have. Maybe, you just tell me, it's rubbish and I should stop. That's okay too.

Maybe it's just a newly found need of recognition on my side, because reading and writing about whump makes me truly happy and feel good about myself for a change. I'm happy for everyone who can lose themselves for a few minutes in my fiction.

I'm not a native speaker, so sorry for my spelling and for abusing this language at some point.

Have fun. I'm sure, I will.

Masterlist for now, it's just been a few days of different writing event and my own trip to the E.R.

#whump

[painsandconfusion]

Hey! Could you please do a promptlist for interrogation tactics please

Yes!!

A torture interrogation tactics list sounds like such a good idea! I’d love to write some torture interrogation things for you. There’s so many different methods and categories to explore when torturing interrogating, so this might go a little long 😅

There's both physical and psychological tactics (of course there's some crossover, but ya know).

(tw: so much....idk how to even tw for this because....well...that would just be re-writing the list. But there's eaten-alive animal whump and some light fingore which hits the big common squiks. lots of basic torture and pain)

.

Physical Techniques

Long Game

Drip torture. Tie them down with something rigged up above them so water will drip on their face every few seconds. Make it so they cant move - so each drop hits the same place every time. At first, it's no big deal. After a few hours, they start to lose their minds. They go numb yet it's excruciating. Their body doesn't know how to process the sensation anymore and they start begging. It's so easy and so lovely.

Thousand-cut torture. Just make hundreds of tiiiiiiiiny little cuts. Paper-cuts, really. Each one stings and burns, but nothing major. But hundreds? Thousands? It becomes too much so so so so fast. They go numb, then hypersensitive. Each one compounding on the others.

STRESS POSITIONS. Sorry this is a favorite. I get excited. Tie them in a way that strains them. Their muscles. Their joints. Don't let them sleep. There's only the constant ache and unnatural twisting of their bones. Or...ropes around their neck. Don't fall asleep, Whumpee. You won't wake back up....

Cold. Keep them in a cold room. Let them shiver and watch their fingers turn blue. Constant aching, never sure when they can get out.

Alternately, heat. Let them go delirious from dehydration, checking in only so see if they're ready to talk.

Thousands of tiiiiiny stabs. Similar to the thousand-cut torture, but just poke poke poke with a needle. Over and over again. They'll go hypersensitive. Then numb. Then it's back again. See witch tests for more.

There's a lovely cowboy torture where you soak a leather whip or lariat in water (let it get nice and soft and stretched out), then tie it around the victim's throat. String them up so they're standing comfortably in their noose. The sun beats down on them. The leather dries. The rope shrinks. Slow-motion strangulation. All the time in the world to think about the sensation of dying. All the time in the world to change their mind about being uncooperative.

Pain

Do I really need to get too much into this?? We have.....

Ripping off fingernails.

Breaking bones.

Cutting/stabbing.

Dislocating joints. Bonus points if you keep popping it back into socket, then grinding it out again. Over and over. Lots of screaming with that one.

Burning.

Pressure Points.

Whipping.

Electrocution.

Etc etc etc. Y'all know how to whump, I have faith in you lol.

Air

People get desperate so fast when they cant breath. We have....

Drowning.

Water-boarding.

Strangulation.

Plastic bags over the head.

Just covering their mouth and nose.

Keeping them in a small, sealed room - let them slowly panic as the oxygen runs out.

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Psychological

Isolation. Lock them in a room for months on end. Irregular meals. No access to clocks or windows. Just constant droning silence and grey walls. Let them go mad

The REID method. Honestly not torture - genuine interrogation. It's no longer allowed for use in police stations because it messes with the subject's head so much they often confess to things they didn't do - even to the point of believing they did. It includes things like crowding and intimidating the subject, and talking over them to prevent them for verbalizing anything you don't want them to say (eg: denial).

Hints. Just clues. Let them drives themselves mad trying to figure out what you're going to do next. For example, walk in with a rat, a bucket, and an iron. Take a phone call and walk out with a 'I gotta handle this, I'll be back in a bit'. Just let their imaginations run wild.

More blackmailing than true interrogation, but just show Whumpee a list of names and addresses. Let them see that it's not just their life on the line - there's plenty of unsuspecting loved ones out there who would have no idea what hit them.

PHOBIAS. Okay I have a thing for phobias, don't come for me. But it takes so little effort if you have their weak spot. Is it spiders? Snakes? Darkness? Small Spaces? Find it. Use it. Watch them break.

This is half physical, but....Bleeding out. Make a cut. Watch it drip. Every drop brings them closer to death. Give them a nice long time to think on that.

The good-old-fashioned 'make them watch'. Let Whumpee see you torturing a loved one or a friend instead. See how long they can stand hearing the screams.

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Animals

Okay this might get a little squikky, but there's lots of animals that can be of assistance.

Rats. Leave whumpee bound and defenseless, preferably bleeding, and rats will have no qualms nibbling away at them. (bonus points to anyone who knows / can guess the rat and bucket thing I mentioned earlier).

Wild animals (particularly wolves, coyotes, wild dogs). Same concept. Leave them smelling delicious and defenseless and let them wait there, knowing the animals will gladly tear them apart when Whumper leaves.

Bugs. Especially spiders, most people do not like. They especially wouldn't like...say...being stuck in a box full of them. Unable to even open their mouth without getting some inside. Fire ants would also be great.

Pigs. Probably not a good long-game, but they'll eat you alive. They're vicious. Unlike the others, they truly don't care if you fight back. They'll tear your Whumpee to shreds and take care of most of the evidence for you. For a whumpee who knows what pigs can do, the thought of being forced in that pen is terrifying.

Just imagine if the Whumper had a box of bullet ants. Most painful sting on earth (supposedly), and it won't kill you. Not even a little. Every wrong answer gets you another sting.

I...uh...know another cowboy torture from old movies that I'm not gonna elaborate on, but it involves a hungry baby calf and only works on half the population. Just...I'll just...leave you to figure that one out.

Maggots. Maggots are actually pretty good for open wounds - they eat out the dead cells but leave the living. Still, imagine how horrifying it would be to be bound and have to watch maggots eat away your flesh. And the smell.

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Dialogue Prompts

Here, have some dialogue prompts just for the heck of it - I loved this request, so my mind is roaming. Enjoy XD

Are your lips feeling any looser now?

Are you sure you can take more?

Beg all you want, it won't help. You know what you have to do to make it stop.

Crying already? Cute.

How are you feeling?

Sure. Of course I'll take it off. As soon as you tell me where they are.

I'm going to ask again...

Mmm nope. Not the answer I was looking for. Try again.

You can't break already. I've hardly touched you.

Would you like to reconsider my offer?

Let's try this again. Where are they?

No? Alright, back in you go.

Aww, tired already? I'm not. I could go all night.

Last chance.

'Kill' you? Now why would I want to do that? We are having so much fun together.

You make so many noises. Too bad none of them are useful.

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(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @jadeocean46910 @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @lav-whumps @wormwriting)

#whump prompt list #im not gonna tag things because alsdkjfalskjdflasdapple #no im not gonna proofread cuz I have a headache #sue me XD

[whumpy-arts-and-crafts]

Bound 7: Consequences

I may or may not have stayed up till 5 am to finish this. But alas, we have whump. A lot of whump. I am sorry it took so long. Hope y'all enjoy!

@equestrianwritingsstuff @epiclamer @itsleighlove @jadeocean46910 @flywhumper @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump @dont-touch-my-soup @befuddled-calico-whump (tell me if you want to be added/removed)

Continued from here

The visits became weekly. Then daily, even twice a day sometimes. Vari told himself it was because Blake needed it. He needed treatment, food, company, and Vari was only repaying the favor he owed him. He knew, however, that deep down, he was starting to need it too. He needed it, perhaps even more than Blake did.

"Hey, Blake?" He half-whispered, the word echoing through the empty hallway, getting the hero's attention.

Blake smiled at Vari's sight, like he always did. It used to upset him, but without realizing, that feeling lessened overtime and was replaced by something else, something pleasant. Vari felt his lips curl into a similar smile.

Blake eyed him as he stood outside the cell fidgeting, with his arms behind his back. "Cookie boy!" He said and patted the concrete next to him. "Come here."

Sheepishly, Vari did. He sat next to Blake and revealed the object he had been hiding behind his back. It was a purple, purple and cream rectangular shape... a box, no... a book.

"You, you always say you're lonely down here," Vari explained, "so I, I thought you would like it."

Taking the book in his hands, the hero studied it carefully. It looked like it had been read over and over again, but by no means was it torn or dirty. It had been handled with care, like a precious item that was worth millions.

"It's the one thing he, he hasn't taken from me." Vari spoke, "It's like a friend. So I thought, maybe it would make you feel less lonely when I can't visit."

"I've never been much of a reader." Blake confessed, turning his gaze to Vari. He stared at the book he had been trusted with, almost scared to open it. Like it would break if he did. "Are you sure it's okay to give me this? It seems pretty important to you..."

"It's okay." Vari replied, "I-I can take it back if, if you don't like it, I just thought it could help you pass your time."

Blake dared to open it to the first page. He laid against the wall, turning it so Vari could see it too. "Read with me." He offered.

Vari felt his pale cheeks redden. He stiffened for a moment, but nodded, making his way to Blake's side. He didn't need to read; he knew what was written in every page down to the last comma. He could probably recite the whole book on a whim, but there was something so calming about being on Blake's side as he turned over the pages, as he explored the world Vari loved so much.

Hours that felt like minutes passed like a breeze, with the two bantering and commenting on the story like little kids discussing their favorite show, completely forgetting where they were, or what time it was.

They forgot, but someone else did not.

Vari shot up, his whole body convulsing and exploding with burning pain. Everything blacked out and the only sensation in his world was agony. He didn't need to look up to know what was happening.

"So that's where you've been dissapearing to!" Aurum growled, hauling him by the neck of his shirt.

Vari writhed in his grasp, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. "I-I didn't-" he tried to find his voice, "I-It's not- I'm s-sorry, please!"

"Save it." The supervillain replied nonchalantly, "I am tired of you lying to me. I've given everything to you, and this is how you repay me?"

"I'm s-sorry, I-I'm so sorry, please, please don't-" Vari kept whimpering, squirming. He felt like he might pass out from the pain, but Aurum wouldn't grant him that favor. The electricity stopped, and Vari was violently shoved on the hard floor, panting and sweating.

Now that his every cell wasn't screaming in pain, he could hear a voice other than Aurum's shouting. It was still a fuzz, but it slowly became clearer.

"-him alone! He didn't do anything, I asked him to come here!" came Blake's frantic screams, along with the rattling of the cell bars. Vari mouthed a silent "Don't..." but it never reached anyone's ears.

Aurum's attention was now turned to Blake. "And he chose to listen to you, than obey my very clear orders?" He grabbed Vari by his hair, pulling so hard Vari thought he might go bald. "Is that what happened, mutt?"

"I-I... I-I didn't-"

"Stop it!" Blake cried, "It wasn't his fault! If, if you want to punish someone, punish me!"

There was a pause. A pocket of tense silence with only Vari's hard breathing and Aurum's piercing gaze cutting through Blake. Then, the supervillain began to laugh. He laughed and laughed, like he had just heard the best joke in the world.

"Oh, Ignis." He cooed, "Such a hero, aren't you? You'd hate not being able to save someone, wouldn't you? Even him." His boot connected with Vari's ribs, forcing a pained cry out of the villain. Blake clenched his teeth so hard he thought they'd crack.

"You care for him." Aurum continued, "It's adorable, how hurting him hurts you too. You're making this so easy for me."

Then suddenly, Vari was moving, his tired body being dragged across the hard floor. Aurum was mad. Vari could feel it in his grip, hear it in his tone. The last time he had made Aurum mad... the scars still stung, even though they had long since healed.

Blake's pleas felt further and further away, until Vari couldn't hear him anymore. He kept his hand outstretched, even as he was dropped into the dark room at the end of the hallway, with Aurum locking them both inside.

"Now, now." he seethed, grabbing a rodlike object from the wall. It resembled a cane, only its tip was coated in metal. "You grew attached to your new little hero, didn't you?"

Vari cried out when the cane hit his jaw with a sickening crack. "Do I need to remind you what happens when you do that?" Aurum snarled, "Have you forgotten about last time, useless scum?"

Another smack. Another crack from Vari's skull. Aurum's form began to become hazy and unfocused, and Vari couldn't tell if it was because of the pain, or the unshed tears.

Of course he remembered. He could never forget the blood, the tears, the screams, the pleas. He would always remember, and it would always hurt the same, no matter how many years passed, no matter how many of his wounds healed.

"N-No!" He shouted, "No, no, please! I-I didn't- I'm sorry! Please, please don't, don't do this. I-I'll never do it again! I'll forget about him, I swear!"

Aurum lowered to Vari's height to cradle his cheek, his thumb wiping away some tears that had been mixed with blood. "Oh, sweetie..." he cooed, "The fact that you're so worried shows that you still care. If only you would stop lying me."

Crack.

This time, Vari was knocked on his side, clutching his throbbing head. Aurum did not give him time to ease his pain. He stomped over and delivered a hit to his now exposed ribs. Then another. And another, he didn't stop until Vari was out of breath, shivering and crying at his feet.

"Now," he grabbed a handful of his hair, that had now come out of its bun and fallen into his bloody face, "what did we learn?"

"I-I'll n-never..." Vari sobbed, "I'll never d-disobey Sir again. I'll f-follow your o-orders, word for word."

A content smile spread across Aurum's face. He took out a handkerchief and wiped Vari's blood off the tip of the cane, then placed it back onto the wall. He spared him one last glance before exiting, leaving the metal door open.

Vari daren't get up, not then, not for the rest of the night. He remained curled up on the floor, shaking with sobs wracking his body. He was in so much pain he could not locate where it was coming from. Any minor movement made him whimper and cry harder.

He had known there was no other ending for him than this, that the safe place he found in Blake would be snatched from him, sooner or later. He had been expecting it, but it hurt just as much.

There was no safe place, no comfort to be found. He was a fool to think he could get away with this. He had learned now. He would obey, he would obey and he would be good. He would forget about Blake.

#whump. #whump community #whumpblr #hero x villain #heroes and villains #villain whump #supervillain whumper #hero caretaker #whump writing #emotional abuse #beaten up #beaten with a cane #blood tw #conditioning #intimate whumper. #kinda #oc #vari #ignis #aurum

[just-antithings]

Tbh after reading this ask i think the real reason antis wanna act like fics having tags for dark themes and nsfw topcis can also be traumatizing is the biggest tell that anti rhetoric is concern trolling. cuz like as an ex anti with weird triggers i think it's pretty insulting to claim. i know triggers can be different for everyone. but if you're genuinely that triggered by tw's which are literally there for you to protect your mental health, you might just need to take a break from social media altogether. you can't just expect the internet to stop making fics that require those kind of tw's. that's such an impossible task that it can't possibly be a good self defense mechanism to rely on. it's just wasting everyone's time with useless new drama. y'all won't be able to get court systems to agree with you on this, at least not ones that don't have an issue with giving republicans too much legislature power. it's been proven everytime both with the recent tumblr ios ban AND with the recent earn it act. so that's what got me thinking about the real reason antis are pushing this anti nuance argument about tw culture. i think the real reason they're bitching about problematic tw's existing period is they actually hate how tw's have ruined one of the earlier days of their community's arguments. that it was too easy to stumble upon fucked up fanfics on accident. that's their actual issue with more and more content creators getting on bad with using tw's for their dark fic or whump fic content. they hate that it weakens one of their first major arguments they relied on to paint proshippers as malicious and exploitative predators. they just don't wanna say that outright on tumblr publicly. cuz they realize that'd make a lot of people who only pretend to side with antis to avoid being harassed realize they're being ridiculous and just refusing to learn how to take responsibility for their own browsing habits. like i don't wanna say these people are inherently pretending to have this trigger but it's absolutely not a healthy one that should be kept. they need to confront that with a therapist and fic it that way instead of making it be the problems of authors exploring dark topics in their fics for whatever reason. i just don't like seeing these antis tokenize victims like me with genuinely weird and thus hard to navigate triggers in order to push this honestly asinine idea that they can use their poorly managed trauma to make people stop making fics that require such tw's. especially when you and other blogs have exposed that these people DO often go out of their way to look up triggering fan content. especially going out of their way to look up triggering 18+ content. and have the nerve to call the 18+ creator a bad person for not letting minors peruse their blogs for receipts. that's another reason a part of me is highly doubting that this claim that these people are genuinely triggered by certain tw's even though i don't wanna risk ableism by saying the trigger isn't real outright, but i do still wish they'd stop tokenizing people like me to justify this kind of impossible to achieve faux progressive activism please and thanks. plus again i'm irritated by how these people refuse to take accountability for how pushing stances like this to become the mainstream enables republican politicians. much more so than any proship anti censorship stance does. its just annoyingly hypocritical and involves a lot of intellectual dishonesty imo. sorry for the long ask i just have a lot of thoughts about this recent issue.

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#mod erin #just anti things #ask #posted without comment #I’m glad you got out of there anon

[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal Story - Part 6

Hii look at what I finally finished! sorry for taking so long to post this guys, I don't even have an explanation lol... I have something else already half written for the boys so hopefully I won't take so long to update the story again 🙃 anyways, I hope y'all like it <3

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot @sunflower1000 @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove @boxofsilence @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince @livingforthewhump @1becky1 @shameful-indulgence @whatwhumpcomments @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @starnight-whump @writingbackwards @noodlesandkareokee @mylifeisonthebookshelf @nightwhumpee

CW: forced sedation, manhandling, drugged whumpee, needle mention, aftermath of branding/burning

Part 1 here, continued from here

-

Liam can’t move. Every time he does, his arms do too and the mere brush of burned skin against pristine bandages is enough to get him on the verge of tears.

The room he’s kept in is too barren, too small to provide any kind of distraction from the constant pulse of pain – too much and never abating. No one listens or cares when he begs for medication, for anything to ease the agony. The doctor comes in to see him, give him antibiotics and check if there’s no infection, but barely looks at Liam when he whimpers under gloved hands.

The first time he takes a glance at the twisted skin underneath the wound dressing, a breathy, hysterical laugh slips out, quickly followed by a silent gasp as Chase’s initials weigh on his arms. He was always his, in the end, wasn’t he? Even after being betrayed and stabbed and kidnapped, he could never get the agent off his mind. Now he’ll be on Liam’s body as well.

It takes all of his willpower not to rip the dressings off once the doctor and nurses leave, just to stare at the hideous thing his arms are now.

But in the silent room, with nothing to do but think and despair, Liam can’t stop looking at the bandages.

He doesn’t know how long he spends staring at it – at the white itchy gauze, and the burns that hurt underneath it. At the C and the R he knows are forever burned on his skin. Like fucking cattle, marked with his owner’s name. Like the stupid boy who thought he could give his heart away to the beautiful, mysterious man that smiled at him. If nothing else, it is a good reminder of how big of a fool Liam is. If he lives long enough for it to be useful, that is. If Jonah doesn’t decide he’s had enough of Liam soon.

Horror floods him at the thought, and when his heart speeds up, Liam can’t hold it any longer. He pulls off the bandages in one swift movement, holding his breath when a wave of fire licks his arms. It doesn’t stop him from ripping out the second bandage though.

His hands tremble on his lap as Liam stares at the skin above his wrists, red with blood and raw skin disfigured into letters. It looks just as ugly as it feels.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until a tear drips on his thigh. And then another and one more, until he’s openly sobbing, chest heaving and stomach twisting.

Lost in tears and the sight of burned skin that sinks into his heart and burns everything there too, Liam only realizes there are people in the room when a hand grabs his forearm.

“What did you do? I just bandaged that,” the nurse complains.

This time, this one time, he moves. Liam yanks his arm away from their grasp and stumbles out of the bed, away from the nurse that stares at him with wide eyes and a startled frown.

“D-d-don’t touch me,” he hisses, holding his hands as close to his chest as he can, and hissing again when sore skin rubs against his shirt. “Stay the fuck away!”

But instead of moving back or so much as talking to him, the nurse calls for the guards and starts walking in his direction.

Liam takes a step backward and presses his back against the wall, wild eyes searching for an escape, a weapon, anything, but salvation is nowhere near. “Please, don’t. Leave me alone.”

When the guards open the door and enter the room, Liam slides to the ground, as small as he can make himself, elbows on his knees, arms protecting his head.

“Get off!” he screams when hands grab at him, and thrashes in the hold. His foot connects with soft flesh, his knee with someone’s chin, but there are too many men. Too many hands for too little strength, no matter how desperately Liam fights.

They drag him through the floor as Liam writhes with every last bit of stamina he has, panic driving him to fight like he wishes he could every time he’s hurt.

A different kind of pain blooms as he squirms uselessly in unforgiving grips – one deeper, familiar, warmer. Liam still doesn’t stop.

“Fuck, he reopened the stab wound,” someone shouts over the cacophony of pain and panicked struggling. “Hold him down, now!”

Liam is pushed to the floor, and when someone squeezes both his arms to keep him there, right over the exposed burns, the world turns red, and a scream tears its way out of his throat.

“No, no, no, get off!” he sobs, kicking out even when a needle sinks into his arm. “n-n-nggh off, get, get o-off,” he tries again, but the world is already slipping through his fingers. He kicks out and thrashes as best as he can, but it isn’t enough. There are stronger bodies over him and the movement is barely there at all.

As much as Liam tries to keep his eyes open, they weigh too heavy, the drugs stronger than he is.

What isn’t?

Liam’s body relaxes against his will, slumps under harsh hands and angry stares, and all he can do is whimper when they drag his limp body to the bed.

-

Chase moves through life like a ghost, only a shell of helplessness and worry, and for the first time, his team notices. He hasn’t slept in days, not with Liam’s face twisted in agony ready to wake him up each time he closes his eyes. Has barely eaten, no appetite left when all he can think about is the boy he loves being hurt on his account.

How can he be free when Liam is locked up? How can he be the one who isn’t hurting when he is the only one who ever deserved it?

“Come on, I know that there’s something wrong,” Zoey says, crossing her arms.

If he could simply flee, he would, but with the hacker standing right in front of him, Chase knows it isn’t worth it. Even if he did leave, she wouldn’t stop trying to get the truth out of him. So Chase sighs and looks down at the blond woman who looks ready to commit murder.

“We all know it. You look like shit. What’s going on?”

It takes all of his strength to plaster a smirk on his lips and lean against the wall with a casual tilt of his head. “You guys worry too much. I’m fine, Zo. Probably could do with a little more sleep, but who couldn’t?”

As convincing as he hopes he sounds, Zoey doesn’t seem at all impressed by his acting. If anything, her frown deepens. “I know you, Chase. And you know me, so you know you can trust me. You look even worse than you did after that mission with the newspaper boy.”

Newspaper boy. If that was all Liam meant for him, maybe Chase’s heart wouldn’t be this tattered.

“Zoey. I am okay, I p– I promise.”

I never lied to you, he had said to Liam as he bled out in Chase’s arms. I betrayed you, yes, but not once did I lie. Stay alive and I’ll prove it to you.

But that was just another lie, wasn’t it? Liam is as alive as ever, and all Chase’s done is cause him more pain than any of them ever imagined possible. All he’s proven is his failure to keep Liam safe.

What is another lie when he’s already filled with them? Maybe that’s all he was always meant to be, all he will ever be – a betrayer. A traitor. A liar.

With a casual shrug that makes his stomach twist, Chase sidesteps his teammate. Before he can move farther away though, she grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“You are good at lying, but I can see the way your eyes have gone dull. I’m not going to force you to say it, but when you get tired of pretending to be fine, I’ll be here. Okay?” When Chase doesn’t answer, she takes a deep breath and nods. Zoey leaves him standing there, feeling dirty and raw, something stirring inside his chest and begging him to tell her everything.

Chase opens his mouth, the truth one breath away, and takes a step towards Zoey’s back. And then his phone buzzes, and reality comes crashing back as he looks at the screen and she disappears down the corridor.

Wanna see him?

It’s the first message he’s gotten from Jonah in days, and Chase holds his breath and freezes for a second at the words.

He’s rushing to his car even before his mind has caught up with his legs.

He’s standing in front of Jonah’s building in a matter of minutes, heart racing but mind weirdly quiet. Static silence, fear building up.

Jonah waits for him in the lobby this time, leaning against the open door of the elevator with a smile on his lips.

“Chase! Long time no see.”

“Where is he?”

“Straight to the point, huh. Boring as ever,” Jonah rolls his eyes. “I was feeling generous today, thought you might want to say hello. I’m not sure our dear boy will answer you, but you can try for yourself I guess.”

“What the fuck did you do?” Chase hisses as Jonah nods for him to get inside and presses the button.

“Nothing bad. He was just fussing about the pain, so my nurses gave him have a little something to relax.”

Chase steps into the elevator, two guards close behind, and fears he’ll shatter his jaw from how hard he’s clenching it.

“He also doesn’t really like his new… adornments, I don’t think. Ripped the bandages earlier today, wet the whole bed with tears.”

Jonah’s voice is light as he says it, the tone one would use to talk about something meaningless, something that doesn’t make Chase sink his nails into his palms and hold his breath. The man’s eyes are the telltale, shining with dark glee, and Chase can see the way Jonah follows his every movement like a predator, reveling at the little cracks in his unruffled façade.

“So when I offered him something to calm down, he didn’t even think before accepting,” he continues.

The doors slide open before any of them can say anything else. A small mercy.

The walk to Liam’s room is as quick as it is infinite. They stop in front of the door so incredibly soon, yet so painfully late.

“Be nice to him, I think he’s going through a phase,” Jonah chuckles as he nods for one of his men to unlock the door. “And don’t forget that this is your fault, dear.”

He barely realizes he’s entered the room until the lock clicks behind him. And then Chase’s eyes find Liam, and the world stops on its tracks, just like it always does when they are in the same room together.

He’s lying on his back, arms open and hands hanging off the bed, bandages covering the skin from Liam’s elbows to his wrists. His eyes are open, but unfocused, slow blinks that lead to nowhere even when Chase takes the first step towards him. His chest rises and falls slowly, rhythmically, a shallow blow of air through parted lips, and despite everything, Chase is happy that Liam isn’t in pain.

It is only when he stops beside the bed that Liam’s head lolls on the pillow, a sunflower looking for the sun even though no real light can reach him here. Still, he looks, and half-lidded eyes roam around the room before finally stopping on Chase’s face.

“Hey,” Chase says, curling one hand into a fist while the other clutches the edge of the bed.

“Mmgh,” Liam slurs with a shuddering breath and a crease on his forehead before trying again. “I, mm, I’m not, n-uh not feeling… well.”

“How can I help?” Chase’s voice is hoarse and low, pained, but Liam hears it. He hears it and he whimpers, shaking his head no.

Make it stop, his mouth forms, but doesn’t voice.

I can’t, Chase wants to scream, I’d give anything to make it all stop but I can’t. Instead, he softens his voice and tries to smile. “What if I do something to distract you? I… I was told you are under some strong drugs.”

Green eyes blink at him, and Chase is happy there are only the two of them in the room. He might actually lose it and punch Jonah square in the face if the man was here.

“How about I tell you a story? You’ve always liked them.”

Liam swallows, eyes darting around the room again, and even though Chase knows he isn’t listening, not really, he sits on the edge of the bed and starts talking.

“It’s about a boy who thought he could change the world, but instead changed the person who was sent to stop him.”

“Sou-sounds like a shit story,” Liam mumbles.

“Depends on how you look at it. Or who’s the one telling it, I guess.”

There’s a pause, and Liam sighs softly before talking again.

“Are you… are, are you really… here?”

The words slam into his chest, shattering anything left in there, and though Chase holds himself firmly still and keeps his face carefully free from anything but tenderness, something collapses inside of him. Maybe it’s his heart. It feels like it, and he wants to cry, to grab Liam and leave, but he can’t, and Liam strains to focus on his eyes, so Chase smiles like there isn’t burning agony rippling through him.

“Do you want me to be?”

“I, I don’t, I don’t know.” It is only a murmur, but Chase knows he’ll hear its echo in his nightmares for a long time – the uncertainty, the fear, the sadness. The helplessness.

I’m here. I would be here forever if I could.

But the words are only that – words. He can’t be here forever, nor erase all the pain he’s caused and continues to cause. So Chase picks up the pieces of his heart and pretends it doesn’t hurt to smirk and brush Liam’s hair away from his forehead like he used to do so long ago.

If he can’t take Liam away from this nightmare, the least he can do is pretend it is a dream.

“Then you should stop dreaming about me.”

“Ca-can’t,” Liam frowns, staring at the hand Chase just touched him with. “Will, will you leave? Again?”

“Only if you want me to.”

Liam looks up again, and something is missing in those eyes. A spark of life that was still there the last time they saw each other, but isn’t now. As Chase searches for the hope he always loved in the depths of Liam’s gaze, what he finds instead is sadness.

“Don’t go,” Liam breathes. “I, I, my h-head, it it it feels weird, Chase.”

“I know, love,” Chase says calmly, nothing of the wild desperation that rages inside of him seeping through the words. Not when Liam is this lost, this vulnerable. Not when it is the first time he has called Chase by his name after the betrayal. “It’ll pass.”

“I’m scared,” he murmurs, shifting on the bed. “But, I, I don’t remember… why.”

“You are okay, Liam. I promise. You’ll be okay.”

Liam closes his eyes and shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is only a whisper, gone even before he finishes. “I don’t believe you.”

Chase bites on his lip and creases his forehead, but none of it shows when he takes Liam’s hand in his own and gives it a little squeeze.

“I know. That’s okay too.”

But Liam isn’t there anymore to hear it. His body sags on the bed, taken away by the drugs, and Chase is left alone in Liam’s cell, watching the boy he’d kill and die for fall asleep. As he does, all Chase can think about is that he needs to get Liam out of here. Somehow, he needs to get him away, no matter the cost of it.

An hour goes by, and though it is one of the worst hours of Chase’s life, is it the first time he doesn’t feel like a part of his heart is bleeding in days. Not when he can see the bleeding part right in front of him.

He wants to wake Liam up, to hear his voice while he can, before he’s forced to leave again. But there’s peace on his face as he sleeps, and Chase can’t take him back to reality when he looks like he used to, like he could wake up at any moment and kiss Chase with a smile.

And then the door opens, and the memories vanish as Chase reluctantly gets up. As soon as he does though, Liam stirs on the bed, frail hand reaching out and grabbing Chase’s wrist before he can move away.

“You promised me… a… um, a story.”

Liam’s eyes open for a moment before closing again, but he doesn’t let go. Chase shoots one look at the guards waiting by the door and knows that nothing good will happen if he waits. He has to play nice if he wants to get Liam out.

Chase looks down at Liam again, and when he finds half-lidded eyes struggling to stay open, he can’t stop his voice from breaking mid-sentence.

“It’ll have to stay for another time, okay? I’ll see you soon, love.”

Liam’s eyes flutter back closed with a soft sigh. His voice is soft as the tears that sting Chase’s eyes when he speaks. “You al–, you always leave in real life too.”

Chase can’t find an answer before he is dragged out of the room by a firm grip he knows better than to fight. He yanks his arm away as soon as the door locks him and Liam on different sides, and hears the words rattling around his head while he is lead to sit in Jonah’s office to hear what the man wants next. All the way back to his house.

He doesn’t think when he calls Zoey. All he hears is Liam.

All he can see is Liam’s lost gaze, the life fading out of his eyes. All he knows is that if he lets him in Jonah’s claws one more second without doing anything, he might actually, truly, crumble down until he can’t pull himself back up.

He is sitting on his couch, hands over his face and elbows on his knees just like they have been since he got home, when his friend opens the door.

“Oh, Chase,” she breathes as soon as she sees his face and sits beside him. “What happened?”

He doesn’t get to crumble down. Not when it’s Liam the one being hurt. The one branded and tortured and kidnapped and betrayed. Still, when Zoey’s gentle arms wrap around him, he hugs her back.

“It’s Liam,” he says, fighting to get the words out through his heaving breaths, trying to force his mind to put them together long enough for someone else to know it too because he can’t do this on his own. He thought he could, he thought he was enough, but he isn’t and he needs to get Liam out, no matter what, no matter how, he has to, he has to before the light goes out in that beautiful green gaze. “He, I, he’s caught and it’s my fault and I thought I could keep him safe but I can’t and now–“

“Chase, breathe,” she commands, and he answers. It’s all he knows how to do, isn’t it? Answer orders. Look at what happens when he’s left on his own. “Let’s start from the begging.”

So Chase does.

(next)

#whump #whump writing #drug whump #noncon drugging #forced sedation #hostage whump #needle cw #captivity #hostage situation #betrayal story #angst #manhandling #aw look at chase finally doing something :') go on babe stop sitting around and letting your boy be tortured #pity liam is not gonna remember any of this later :) and will continue to think chase left him there :) yeah such a pity :))) #so what do y'all think of zoey? i didn't want to introduce another character because who cares lol but chase really needs the help

[coffee-bat]

sure i do! (posting screenshot of ask for easier formatting)

(also, i have a whump headcannons ask that i've been compiling the response to for the past weeks (anon who asked, i'm so sorry it's taking so long, i'm not ignoring your ask), so this one will focus strictly on everything OTHER than whump.)

- he often bites his nails when stressed, or even just bored (or when he has no cigar on hand. he has a thing for chewing/nibbling on things). stopping himself from doing it is one of the reasons he wears gloves (other than for warmth and to shield his hands from damage), as having his nails bit too short is painful and can make his work almost impossible. (saying this as a nail biter. you literally CANNOT use a finger that you bit the nail of too short)

- speaking of stimming, aside from biting things, he uses the compass around his neck as a stim toy. it's useless around him, as his own magnetic field renders it impossible to point north as it should, but he'll often play with it by making it spin through altering his field. it requires both focus and a small bit of physical effort, effectively taking his mind off whatever's stressing him, at least for a short bit until he gets bored.

- he thinks he can cook, but anyone who's ever tried his cooking strongly disagrees. while his techniques are okay, like he doesn't burn or undercook stuff, the things he makes are borderline inedible. (he once made a party cheese salad for a family meeting and lowkey bonded with moreau over him being the only one to like the atrocity)

- he's the youngest of the lords (with the age order being alcina>moreau>donna>karl). donna looks younger than him, however it's mostly because of his healing factor being worse than the others', making him actually age (even if very slow) instead of being stuck in time.

- he DESPISES family meetings, along with the family dinners miranda keeps insisting on (which take place either at the castle or at donna's place, as moreau's reservoir and the factory are unsuited for that to say the least), but the latter's redeeming factor is that, if he's lucky, he gets a unique opportunity to fuck with alcina. which usually means eating her out of house and home (using the fact that she's too proud of her good manners to refuse a guest), getting drunk, wrecking her house (muddy boots who?) and then passing out somewhere. it gives him the opportunity to make himself her problem and he loves that. (i've actually started work on a comic a few weeks ago where alcina kicks karl off a random couch she finds him on (in a food coma), a shitposty thing with a SLIGHTLY wholesome-ish ending (as wholesome as alcina gets), but it was taking so long that i just gave up at some point. though, if any of y'all would like to see it finished, let me know, it'd be easier to motivate myself to do it if i knew anyone actually wanted me to lol)

- he holds animals close to his heart but would hate to admit it, in fear of appearing weak or soft. claims that he lets the one (1) cat stay in his factory ONLY because it helps with rats, totally not for company because he's a sad lonely man, what are you talking about.

-he's neither a cat or dog person, he likes both equally, but it'd be far harder to keep a dog in his quarters, seeing as it would require both more space and regular walks + playtime, while a cat is perfectly happy with just getting to sleep on him at night (in terms of contact/bonding).

- though, while he doesn't have a dog, he lowkey treats the lycans as such. keeps them under his control solely through giving them dog treats he buys from the duke. (took him a long time and lots of claw/teeth injuries to figure that out, but hey, better late than never).

--warning: the next few paragraphs discuss weight insecurity and body dysmorphia. i'll let you know when the segment ends so you can skip it if it's triggering or makes you uncomfortable--

- he's insecure about his body, both the scars littered across it and his weight. the first can't be helped and he's aware of it, however the latter TECHNICALLY CAN be and thus it bothers him far more. he used to be in a better shape, both mentally and physically, before his life was completely consumed by his work and plans of the rebellion, however these days, he just can't afford to focus on keeping himself in shape (he doesn't have the time and energy to exercise outside of the weight lifting he has to do while working, and same goes for taking care of his diet. cooking and eating balanced food takes too much time and energy, making him resort to whatever is the quickest to make and will keep him going through the day). he feels intense discomfort when looking at younger pictures of himself, he can't help but feel that he has "let himself go" in the recent years, however simultanously doesn't have the time and energy to do anything about it. it's frustrating and makes him feel out of control.

- alcina once touched on the topic while arguing with him, and it fucked him up. up until then he clang onto the small bit of hope that maybe noone has noticed the changes in his body, that maybe it was just him that was hypersensitive to it and in reality it wasn't that visible, and alcina's comment instantly shattered it. not only did she notice, but she apparently considered it worthy of using against him. there goes his last bit of confidence.

- it was one of the very few times she has seen him actually cry (before storming off to hide himself in his factory). it was also one of the few times she had apologized to him. she has made comments about his height and general looks before, and it never seemed to bother him, he always retorded back with a snarky remark targeted back at her, so she truly thought he had no insecurity issues- but this time, for the first time, he just looked hurt, almost disbelieving, and ran away without a word. it made her initial anger melt away instantly, realizing what she did. she ran after him a few minutes later, hoping it wasn't too late and she hadn't done unreversable damage. the whole incident was a major blow to her ego, especially as she was forced to beg karl over the intercom to let her in, but she wouldn't have forgiven herself if she didn't tell him that she was sorry and didn't mean it. she had to admit to herself that it truly was a low blow and she couldn't let herself be carried away like this ever again.

- karl's confidence never really healed from the incident, it's not something he can just forget. but he did get a kick out of having alcina beg for forgiveness, so he considers at least that to be an upside of the whole thing.

--weight/body dysmorphia discussion ends here--

- he gets sensory overloads easily, especially from loud noise, making him snappy if there's too many people talking/making noise. he also often has issues with things touching him when he's already stressed - due to this, he keeps a hairband in his pocket at all times (to keep his hair out of his face), and has tied the belt of his trench coat behind his back so it wouldn't touch his arms while moving around (that one is actually part of his character model). having things hanging off him irritates him greatly.

- he has a tendency to cling onto/hug whatever is in his reach while he's asleep. usually it's a pillow or his blanket, but it's also a risk one should be aware of when choosing to sleep in one bed with him. you're gonna wake up in a death grip. and he's a heavy sleeper, so don't even think about going to the bathroom.

- speaking of physical affection, he loves massages, they're one of his favorite types of affection to receive. any kind of them, really. he's sore most of the time, so a bit of relief is always greatly appreciated. back/shoulders after a long day of work, tummy if his cadou is bothering him or his eating habits fucked him over again, maybe even hands if he's worked manually for too long and his palms are starting to cramp. it's all really appreciated. (another factor contributing to why he likes them is that they're completely selfless acts of affection. his partner isn't getting anything out of it (like they would with anything sexual or romantic), its only purpose is to help him feel better. makes him feel loved.)

- speaking of, he literally cried the first time ethan gave him a shoulder rub. feeling the decades worth of pain, tiredness and muscle strain that he didn't realize he felt finally fade, be washed away, made his eyes water, he couldn't help it. it wasn't long after they had moved in together (as roommates, since karl had nowhere to go), and to karl, it felt like an affirmation that it's over, he can relax, he can rest now. no need to keep overworking himself, to keep not letting himself ever catch a break because "he might like it too much and stop chasing his goal", to keep doing anything to keep himself going for years on end despite knowing it's ruining his body. it's done, it's over, he finally deserves a rest. it made ethan deeply confused and concerned before karl sobbed out why he's crying.

these are all for now, i think! at least all that comes to mind at the moment. if you'd like me to talk about headcannons on a specific subject/topic (or expand on any of these ones), let me know! i'm sure to think of something that i haven't already, or forgot to write down. i just love talking about headcannons, man.

#this bitch took me 2 hours to write i really hope you like it #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #headcannons #long post

[whump-me-all-night-long]

Jeweler!Sapphire AU (not canon)

Welcome to 3k words of this amazing AU idea that may or may not become a multi-parter. No editing, we die like.. idk. Please let me know what y'all think!!

Tagging the usual group (let me know if you only want to be tagging in canon stuff): @newbornwhumperfly @unicornscotty @itsleighlove @whump-scribbles @getyourwhumphere @skunkandgrenade @penny-for-your-whump @lektric-whump @just-a-whump-lover @thelazywitchphotographer @restrainthenmaime @angstyachesplus @lilbitwhumpy @leaderofthebeanarmy @aquard-skaii @whumprincess @thatgaysnail @finaldreams1106 @reveriedeludesme @kemonoinuzuka @circlingravens @whumpasaurus101 @spicy-wendigo @femmewithadhd @wafflestakethecake @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @broadwaybabe18 @whumpinggoodtime @temporary-whump-sideblog @dumb-and-lesbian let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: talk of death (in a pretty disrespectful manner), talk of human trafficking, intimate whumper, hair pulling, noncon touching, some pretty noncon vibes near the end, uhhh Saph/Dustin is a real asshole, let me know if I need to tag anything else!

Masterlist

---

The sound of a ringing phone woke Dustin. With a groan, he rolled over in bed, blankets tangled around his legs. Blindly groping along his nightstand, he found his phone and answered the call, from an unknown number, blue eyes squinting against the flash of the bright screen.

“Yeah?” he answered, stifling a yawn.

“Is this Mr. Moore?” a timid male voice said.

Rubbing a hand across his face, Dustin sat up, glancing at the clock with a groan. “Yes, this is he,” he responded, voice tight. “Now who the fuck is calling me at four a.m.?”

A throat was cleared on the other end of the line. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I’m Nicholas Jameston.” There was a pause, as if he expected Dustin to recognize the name. “I’m your uncle’s lawyer.”

Dustin blinked, brow furrowing in confusion. “My uncle? You mean.. Uncle Spence?”

A curt “Yes, sir.”

“Okayyyy,” he drew out. “Listen, I haven’t talked to him in years. Since I left for college at least. Probably before even high school. You see, my dad and him, they didn’t really get along-” He cut himself off. Why was he telling this man anything? “Anyways, there must be some confusion. I don’t know why he wants his lawyer contacting me all of a sudden.” Shit, he thought. Did I break or steal something last time I was at his place? Is this what this is about?

There was an awkward beat of silence before the lawyer cleared his throat again. “No, sir, there’s no mistake or confusion. You see, you’re Mr. Spencer’s closest remaining blood relative.”

Dustin was really not awake enough for this conversation. “Just say what you need to and be done with it.”

“Your uncle is dead,” the lawyer finally said. “And you’re his sole heir.”

-

Dustin pulled up in his car, a shiny BMW he’d bought using his dad’s life insurance money a few years ago. He squinted against the darkness of early morning, checking the address again. This place looked less like a family home and more like a fortress. A prison.

He wondered, for the millionth time since getting rudely awoken and told that a man he’d met only a handful of times was a) dead and b) giving him everything, what exactly he was doing here. His dad must be rolling over in his grave. Not that Dustin particularly cared about that.

He knew that the brothers had never gotten along, that his dad, the older brother, had apparently “abandoned” the family business because it was “amoral,” but Dustin had never really been privy to the details. He rolled his eyes just thinking about his dad and his need to be righteous and perfect all the time.

That apparently had gone out the window at some point, but the bastard was too proud to go back to his brother - their parents were already dead by that time - and instead decided to start his own company, selling.. who knew? Certainly not Dustin. No, the young twenty-six-year-old was perfectly content enjoying his bachelor playboy lifestyle, feeding off mommy and daddy’s blood money.

“Mr. Moore?” A man was standing on the doorstep, fidgeting nervously with a thick manila envelope.

Dustin took one look at him and barely withheld a sigh. This man, short, balding, oily, was a lawyer alright. He raised one lazy eyebrow. “Jameson, I presume?” he called back, making his way slowly up the path to the door.

“Uh, it’s Jameston, sir,” the man corrected quickly.

Dustin didn’t bother to hide his smirk. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with. It’s early and I have a busy day ahead of me. Left a pretty girl waiting for me to call. Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Not bothering to wait, Dustin stepped up to the door and opened it, stepping inside a grand foyer. He whistled softly, taking in the shimmering chandelier, the sweeping staircase, with a gold-woven rug running down the middle, and the many large and well-furnished rooms branching off from the entrance.

“Now this is a nice playhouse, huh?” he said, grinned indolently.

He saw Jameston’s jaw tighten fractionally. “Yes, sir,” he responded. “Now, I can give you a complete tour of the house now. However, Mr. Spencer’s real estate agent can do that when she arrives here in-” he glanced at his watch - a fake, Dustin had noticed - “a couple hours or so. Furthermore, there was a, erm, rather sensitive matter that Mr. Spencer tasked me with familiarizing you with personally.” He adjusted his tie slightly, clearly nervous, before motioning Dustin down one of the smaller hallways to the side.

His curiosity piqued, Dustin followed. “What do you mean? Oh, don’t tell me, was the old man into some shady illegal business? Drugs? Girls?”

Jameston shook his head, Adam's apple bobbing. “No sir. Your uncle, he was an.. art collector, of a sort. Well, he created his own art, really. However, it was not necessarily, um, legally acquired.”

Dustin barely held in a laugh at the lawyer’s clear panic. “Of course it wasn’t,” he scoffed. “Do you know how much shady shit has gone on in this family?” He couldn’t stop the bark of laughter this time. “Of course you do, you’re the lawyer.”

Jameston’s face flushed but he remained quiet until he reached an indiscreet door at the end of a short hall. If Dustin didn’t know any better, he’d assume it was a closet or something. Jameston cleared his throat as he opened the door. “Welcome to the Jewelry Box, sir.”

-

Carnelian sighed, his head falling back against the wall as he stretched his legs out along the small bed. The only sounds in the large room was the occasional movement from one of the others.

“That’s it,” he muttered, standing up and marching over to the glass wall. “Is anyone else wondering where the bastard is?” he called, frowning as he caught the gazes of several of the others.

Emerald just shook his head, silently warning him. Amethyst, however, scoffed, picking at her nails intently. “Why do you care?” she snapped. “It’s not like you’re ever doing anything but yelling and cursing.”

“So?” Carnelian shot back. “Aren’t you at least a little curious as to what’s going on?”

As if to answer his questions, he heard the door hiss open. Turning his gaze towards it, he felt his lips tugging down into a frown.

“Here we go again,” he muttered. “I knew the bastard would be back before long.”

Then he met the gaze of a stranger, arrogant and lazy and startlingly bright blue. Eyebrows flicking up, he blurted, “Who the fuck are you?”

Smirking, the stranger glanced at a smaller man next to him, one Carnelian had glimpsed down here once or twice before, always with the Jeweler. “I think I’d like to ask you the same question.”

The small man cleared his throat and began speaking, quietly enough that Carnelian couldn’t hear. Instead he took in the stranger, as if he couldn’t quite tear his eyes away.

The man was attractive, annoyingly attractive from Carnelian’s perspective. His skin was a bronzed tone, clear and smooth. He was tall, probably taller than Carnelian, with a lean, slightly muscled body. He had on a dark t-shirt that clung to his body and somehow looked expensive, with form-fitting jeans and some Converse high tops on as well. His dark brown hair was slightly wavy, with the top grown out long and falling into his face. Carnelian’s eyes drifted down towards his mouth before he forcefully pulled them back up to his eyes, which were-

Still on him. Carnelian felt himself blush and then scowl as he met the man’s gaze. Already he was getting on his nerves. And where the hell was the Jeweler? Was this stranger some new client of his, looking to buy one of them? At that thought, Carnelian felt a flash of panic through him and glanced over at Emerald, who was looking subtly at him as well, clearly thinking the same thing.

Carnelian tuned back in when the stranger exclaimed, “Are you shitting me right now?” The stranger was now looking at each of them, studying them more intently.

His gaze almost completely skimmed over Diamond and Ruby, both of them still curled up in their beds, watching with wary and confused gazes. He barely even noticed Amber, the new one still drugged to high heaven after mouthing off to the Jeweler yesterday. Carnelian doubted the kid could even remember their own name right now, much less stand up from where they were sprawled in their bed. He took a bit longer looking at Emerald, his defensive stance, wise eyes, then Amethyst, with her crossed arms and haughty expression, before finally settling on Carnelian.

After several long, tense seconds, he looked back at the other man. “So you’re saying,” he drawled slowly, deliberately. “That this, all of this, the house, the business, the.. Jewels-” his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk- “they’re all mine?”

Swallowing, the other man nodded. “Yes sir, that’s what I’m saying.” He drew out a piece of paper and, clearing his throat, began to read. “‘I hereby give the entirety of my properties, including my family home, my businesses, and my Jewelry Box, to my closest remaining blood relative upon my death.’ That would be you, Dustin Moore.”

There was a gasp from one of the other cells, where Diamond had stood up, flying to the window, eyes wide and frantic. “Death? Wait, no, Sir, he- he can’t be-” They dissolved into sobs, sliding to their knees on the floor.

Carnelian glanced around at the rest of the Jewels, the only sound coming from Diamond. The rest of them had frozen as well, not sure how they were meant to respond. Carnelian was reeling, glancing down as he took a shaky breath. On the one hand, he was glad the bastard was dead. On the other, well, the Jeweler had never looked at him the way the stranger, Dustin the other man had said, looked at him. The Jeweler looked at him like some prized object, something to be shown off proudly and then put back into storage. The Jeweler treated him less than human; Dustin’s gaze said he knew precisely how human Carnelian was, he just didn’t care.

Before he knew it, Carnelian was raising his head to glare at the other man, only to find him still looking at him. As Dustin slowly moved forward, he asked, “Did my uncle give these.. Jewels any names? Because I think I’m seeing a theme in them.” He stopped a couple feet away from the glass, his head tilted slightly. “The only one I can’t seem to figure out is this one.”

Carnelian’s lip curled. “Stay the fuck away from me,” he snarled softly, looking him up and down before raising his brows slightly. “Bastard jr,” he added.

Dustin almost seemed caught off guard before letting out a laugh. “I thought you said that he trained them to be all submissive and whatever,” he called over to the other. “Jameston, this one seems to be a bit feral.” He stepped even closer, lifting one hand to touch the glass. Carnelian fell back a couple inches, eyes still narrowed.

Jameston cleared his throat yet again. Carnelian would almost feel bad for the guy, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was complicit in letting him stay kidnapped. “Yes sir, your uncle had his ways of training them. However, he didn’t train them all the same way. He found that one’s fight to be..” He skimmed his notes quickly. “..rather appealing, sir.”

Carnelian made a noise of disgust as Dustin grinned. “I can’t say I blame him.”

Carnelian barely breathed until Dustin stepped away, turning back to Jameston. “Well, I’ve seen them all. Let’s go back upstairs now. I think I saw a nice liquor cabinet that I’d like to raid.”

Once they were both gone from view and the door had hissed shut, Carnelian leaned his head against the cool glass.

“You okay?” Emerald asked.

Carnelian just shook his head, a sudden lump in his throat. “The way he looked at me,” he said softly.

“I know,” Emerald murmured back.

He glanced up to find the older man looking at him with concern and pity.

“Well then,” Amethyst said loudly, breaking the silence that had fallen thick and heavy. “That was certainly something.”

Diamond sobbed loudly. “That.. that can’t be true. Can it?” They looked up, searching the others’ faces. Carnelian felt a twinge of pity for them. After over a decade of being trapped down here, they had been reduced to a mere shadow of whoever they might have once been. At whatever they might’ve seen on their faces, Diamond dissolved back into inconsolable sobs.

Resting her head on the wall, Ruby quietly asked, “So what happens now?”

There was a beat of silence before Emerald replied, “Now we wait.”

-

Back upstairs, Dustin was finally alone after getting rid of that annoying lawyer. He had had to practically shove the man out of the house to get him to leave. Even then, he had only left with promises to call later about the details.

For now, Dustin was sprawled out in a large, overstuffed armchair, a bottle of expensive whisky and a half empty glass next to him. He was already on his second glass, and he had no plans on stopping any time soon.

His mind drifted to the one who had glared and cursed at him. The smaller one, with the hard gaze, numerous freckles, and bright curly hair. The one Jameston had said was named Carnelian. Dustin looked up the stone and smiled at the pictures that were pulled up. Bright, fiery stones, of varying shades, Dustin had to admit, he could see the resemblance.

Pouring himself another glass, he sunk down further into the chair. He supposed he should be more concerned with the fact that there were six human beings locked in some creepy basement that he had apparently just inherited. But, after living the life that he had lived so far, Dustin had to admit that this was far from the craziest thing he had seen. He knew plenty of friends whose families had, well, less than legal people working for them, and now that he thought about it, he swore he could remember some show a few of his friends had gone to where the host had all his pets or whatever they were called designed as gemstones.

He laughed softly, quietly murmuring, “Carnelian, huh?” before draining the glass and pouring one more.

-

It was hours later when Carnelian awoke in the darkness. The bright lights, luckily, were still on their automated timer, so they had shut out at their usual time. It had been hours since Diamond’s sobs had slowly petered out and since the others’ quiet, stilted conversations had dwindled. Now, everyone was asleep.

Well, everyone except Carnelian. It took him a moment to figure out what had awoken him, a soft tapping on the glass wall of his cell. With a soft groan, he rolled over, out of the bed, squinting in the dim light.

In front of him stood the silhouette of a man. A couple seconds later, Carnelian recognized him as Dustin, his new.. owner. He almost snorted at the title. This man wasn’t any older than Carnelian, and he looked and behaved like an entitled, overprivileged frat boy.

Carnelian slowly walked closer. “What the hell do you want?” he whispered, because he didn’t want to accidentally wake the others and unleash the chaos that would bring with it. It took him a moment to realize that Dustin was fiddling with the lock on the door.

Without answering him, Dustin finally figured out how to unlatch it and swung the door open. He looked back up at Carnelian and made a silent motion for him to follow as he padded back towards the door.

Frowning, Carnelian carefully stepped out, towards him and the hallway beyond, where he could see light spilling out from the door. Knowing it probably wasn’t very smart, Carnelian walked into the hallway, squinting slightly at the suddenly bright lights.

Before he knew what was happening, there was a hand fisting in his hair and pushing him up against the wall. Carnelian looked up, eyes wide, to find Dustin standing much too close to him and several inches taller than him.

Feeling his breath stutter and his heart skip a beat, Carnelian breathed out, “What the hell do you want?” He barely dared take his eyes away from Dustin’s.

With the hand not pinning him to the wall, Dustin leaned closer and wrapped a curl around his finger, pulling until Carnelian wince slightly before letting it go, watching it bounce. This close, Carnelian could smell the whisky on his breath.

“Are.. are you drunk?” he asked, swallowing hard when that steely blue gaze met his, hazy yet surprisingly clear.

“That’s irrelevant,” he said, smirking as he pushed closer to Carnelian, who tried to pull away, but one vicious yank on his hair had his eyes watering and stilled the rest of his body. Dustin raised a hand and slowly traced over Carnelian’s cheeks, ending with one finger following the outline of his lips. “You’re Carnelian.”

Carnelian barely resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and instead held his breath, eyes wide and searching Dustin’s. He didn’t dare to breathe, much less speak, so he didn’t ask why Dustin had said something he already knew the answer to.

It felt as if an eternity had passed before Dustin pulled away, shoving Carnelian roughly back towards the door. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said glibly, pulling the door shut once Carnelian was through, leaving him back in the darkness.

Immediately, Carnelian went back to the one place he never thought he’d call safe. Once he had pulled the glass door closed, hearing the lock click, he curled up in his bed, as far away from the door as he could get, the thin blanket pulled over him as his heart beat in his throat.

He didn’t sleep a wink for the rest of the night.

#the jewelry box #jeweler!sapphire #carnelian sugar #emerald love #amethyst doll #ruby honey #diamond darling #whump #whumpee #multiple whumpees #whumper #intimate whumper #talk of death #talk of human trafficking #hair pulling #noncon touching #noncon vibes #idk that end bit there has some Vibes(TM) #ahhhhhh idk why i'm so nervous to post this #i'm actually pretty excited too #so please let me know what y'all think! #and if y'all would be interested in more!