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#starnight-whump
brutal-nemesis · 9 months
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Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump @painsandconfusion​ @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen
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comfy-whumpee · 7 months
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Equinox
If you can't remember where we left Ellis because it's been like a year, it was this one.
@bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @rosesareviolentlyread, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @burtlederp, @starnight-whump, @mylifeisonthebookshelf
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The sound of Ellis sliding out of bed woke Nic better than any alarm ever had. They opened their eyes and listened, instinct keeping them from jolting upright. Ellis was trying to be quiet. As they slowly blinked their way to clear thoughts unmuddied by their recent dream, they realised it would be best not to let him know they were awake straight away.
Some nights, he left the house and came back again. He went out for an hour or two at a time, but he always came home and climbed back into bed. They never slept while he was out, unless their beleaguered body gave them no choice; they would sit awake and wait for him. So far, he had always returned.
But at other times, it was a little stranger.
He staggered towards the steps, walking like a man on stilts. He tottered down the staircase to the living room.
Some nights, all he did was curl up under the desk and sleep, or simply cry. Nic pretended not to be awake for that, either. If he needed to cry, he should cry. It was good for him, even though he was mourning someone who had tortured him for years.
He was fumbling at the bottom of the stairs. Putting shoes on. They got up at the sound of him unlocking the door. He stepped outside. This night was a strange night, they knew, because he didn’t close it behind him.
They came to sit at the top of the stairs, looking at his silhouette in the doorway. He stood with his head tilted slightly upward to the sky. His eyes were closed, hands loose at his sides, shoes on under his pyjamas.
He was waiting, they thought. That’s all he did. He stood on the doorstep and waited for that man to come and pick him up.
They didn’t know how asleep he was. It might be total sleepwalking, some misfiring urge to move reaching him while the rest of him slept through the need to stop it. Maybe he still heard or dreamt the voice that used to call him to leave. Or perhaps this was his way of grieving, standing in the silent night and hoping for some kind of answer.
He had snuck out so many times that his body still tried to follow the pattern, convinced the night would end in his abuser’s arms.
Nic ached with longing. They wanted to take his hand and gently lead him back inside. They wanted to sit him down on the sofa and tuck his cold fingers into theirs. They would brush his hair back and help him lean against them. They would murmur soothing promises to him, tell him that he was safe, tell him that he was already home. They would gently love him and he would find that love as a light in his darkness, and it would guide him back.
Life didn’t work that way. The dullness of his stare scared them. The way he barely moved some days made them paralysed. This sleepwalking fugue, standing in the doorway like a sailor’s wife on the pier, made them sick to their stomach. This was the part of him that pretended, all night, that Alistair was coming back. The love he had for Nic was stolen, twisted, until he said always and only Master to their face.
Why didn’t the grief disturb him? It must have hurt, a piercing brand through his chest that made it hard to breathe, a pain so sharp and unrelenting it brought tears to his eyes. They shed a few of their own, watching him stand there in the dark. Why, even now, wouldn’t he wake?
When he finally turned, he came back in, took off his shoes, and walked back up the stairs without looking at them. Was he awake and unable to see them in the dark? Was he asleep and unaware of anything outside of his routine? Was he somewhere in the middle, unwittingly following half-broken instincts taught to him by a dead man?
He curled back up on the bed, and if he wasn’t asleep already, he was by the time Nic dragged their leaden body to join him.
The filtered light of dawn began to trickle through the curtains soon after. They would sleep once they stopped crying, they thought. Once their emotions drained out and they were exhausted. Sleep would claim them when they had nothing else to give the night. They waited, heels of their hands pressed to their eyes, teeth clenched to keep sobs to heavy breaths.
They were so fucking alone and he was right there next to them.
They couldn’t take care of him. They were barely surviving. Maybe a better person would have the inner strength to give, but they had dug deep into their reserves for too long. This shit had been going on for years, and he was dead, but it wasn’t over. They daydreamed about him going home to his parents, even just for a few days, but he wouldn’t even speak to them. They were the ones he was most afraid of knowing what he’d become, both the true and untrue parts. They had never seen the real extent of what had been changed about him, and he was terrified of their rejection even before.
Instead, there was Nic and the people they found for him. There was Rozen and Addison and Felicity. Four people to care for one, and Nic was the least able, and they were the one who was always there.
Birds were singing. Nic hated the birds. Hated the dawn. Hated the sunshine. The whole world was in denial.
Felicity would be waking up about now. Stretching, doing her yoga, eating breakfast in her little garden, maybe. Iz would be snoring in her bed or draped over some girl she’d gone home with last night, not a care in the world. Who knew what Rozen was doing? Probably deep into their research, actually doing something to fix what had made this happen, the people who had given Alistair his power.
Even Ellis was finally resting. Most mornings he woke up worse than he went to bed, his dreams never settled, but there was respite for him.
Nic had slept three to five hours each night for a week. They wondered if this was what breaking point felt like.
They hadn’t told anyone about the sleepwalking. It seemed pointless. It didn’t hurt him. It was less than an hour. He didn’t know or acknowledge it. What could they offer? Blame, because they couldn’t sleep without him accounted for?
It was so stupid. They got up and went downstairs, leaving him there before the resentment could twist too tightly.
Can I come over?
Of course. Does he need someone with him?
Even when she said yes, there was but.
Someone else can do it. I need a break.
She didn’t ask why they needed a break first thing in the morning. Want me to pick you up?
Yes please.
On my way xxx
Guilt chased them as they began the search. Rozen didn’t respond. Iz typed something barely coherent about research deadlines. They tried to negotiate, to offer check-ins, reduced time, remote caretaking, something that would let them out.
By the time Felicity arrived, they came to the door and told her they were stuck.
She looked at them for a long moment. She absorbed the tired resignation in their voice, the unkempt, unbrushed hair, the random comfortable clothes they had thrown on, and the tilt of their head against the doorframe. Maybe she could see how tired they were, and how long they’d been crying.
“You need a break,” she said. “I think it’s time to call his parents.”
“He doesn’t…”
Her eyebrows were drawn. She gave them a hug, a gentle squeeze and sigh. She smelled like toothpaste. “I know. But this isn’t your job, cupcake. You’re just one person, and you’re not okay. He has a family. They want to help him.”
“They hate me.”
“But they don’t hate him. You won’t be here. You’ll be with me, getting some sleep. Okay? And he has to see them eventually.”
It hurt, but she was right. Guilt squeezed their chest and the tears almost came back, but she was right. They couldn’t do this. They had to have space. Ellis would be okay. His parents loved him. He had avoided them ever since the first time he’d come home, but they would love him.
It had gone on for too long. They deserved to know what was going on with their son. Rozen’s reports wouldn’t be enough. Nic knew that from experience.
Even as they thought through the reasons, it felt bitter and flat. All of them were justifications to try and make their failure seem okay. They couldn’t cope.
“Alright,” they caved. “I’ll… Let me call.”
“I’m right here with you.”
They shivered in sheer relief. Okay. They dialled. Okay. They could do this.
“Hello?”
The Irish lilt sent a thrill of panic through Nic. “H-Hello. Siobhan. It’s Nic, I – I wanted to invite you over.”
She didn’t acknowledge their greeting. They could hardly blame her. She must have been waiting for so long for the go-ahead. “Today?”
“Yes, today. Now, if you can. I have to go out,” Felicity nodded at them encouragingly, and they pressed on, “and I don’t think he should be on his own. He’s been scared to contact you because of how – how different he is. Especially after he lied to you before. But he should see you.”
“I’ll be there.” There was the sound of Joe, grumbling as she presumably woke him. “We’ll come and take care of him. Just wait until we get there.”
It was delivered as a claim to responsibility, but to Nic, it was immense relief. They were good people. They didn’t like Nic, and that was okay. They were just protective, a little judgemental, and they wanted the best for him. They were good people, and they would take care of their son.
“You don’t have to see them,” Felicity offered, as Siobhan hung up on them. “You can wait in the car. I’ll give them the spare key.”
Nic squeezed their eyes shut, her suggestion seizing them with an unspeakable emotion. What would they think, meeting a stranger when Nic had called? Why could Felicity see so well what they needed? Would Ellis wake up and feel betrayed? Their heart wouldn’t stop hammering. Siobhan’s voice on the phone had seemed so annoyed.
Felicity hugged them tightly. “You’re overwhelmed. Go, get some space, breathe. I’ll take you home and look after you, okay?”
They shuddered in her arms. He didn’t want this, why had they done it? Hadn’t he been through enough things forced on him for his greater good? They were a hypocrite. They were selfish.
“It’s alright.” Felicity eased her hold and started walking them to the door. “Go on. He’s going to be fine.”
Would he? What if he hated it? What if they were terrible to him? What if they didn’t understand and made it all worse?
What if they took him back home and stopped him seeing them?
They walked to the car on numb legs, eyes unseeing. What if they blamed Nic again? What if they told Ellis that, and he believed them? He was so guileless now, so gullible. Would he reject them too? They couldn’t bear it. They pulled open the car door and climbed into the passenger seat, pulling their knees up to their chest. They had started crying again at some point, a dull headache starting up from the sheer number of times they’d cried since waking up.
When the car drove by, they almost ducked in their seat. They didn’t want Siobhan and Joe to see them in such a mess. But of course, they weren’t looking. They were looking ahead, hurrying out of the car to finally see their son. They barely even glanced at Felicity before taking the keys and shutting the door.
Nic closed their eyes, grief swelling over them again. They tried to let it go. They had done it. They had sent in the parents.
When Felicity sat down in the driver’s seat, she said, “Now you can switch off from him for a while and rest. Yeah?”
She knew what they needed. She always seemed to know the parts they didn’t like about themself, and she always, deliberately, embraced them.
“I’m proud of you,” she told them, turning towards them in the seat. “Really. Do you feel proud?”
Was there pride, they wondered, reaching into the hollow of their chest, or was this just shame? They weren’t sure. “I’m just tired,” they murmured.
“Then I’ll put you down for a nap with a hot chocolate,” Felicity decided brightly. “And when you come home later, you’ll see that it was all fine.”
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secretwhumplair · 2 years
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Weaving
780 words | No Warrior (right before Warmth)
Content | Low self-esteem, reference to past beating
Notes | This was already mostly finished, part of it was written even before Warmth lol, so I finsihed it up before getting on with where we left off.
Yves tries to get a job.
Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​ @alliecat5594​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​​ @whumpzone​​ @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles​​ @whumpsy-daisies​​ @briars7​​ @yet-another-heathen​​ @rosesareviolentlyread​​ @cupcakes-and-pain​​ @hollowtreesinhollowwoods​​ @pleasancies​​ @much-ado-about-whumping​​ @nine-tailed-whump​​ @starnight-whump​​ @whump-em​​​ @itsleighlove​​ @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @whots-a-tag-precious @tears-and-lilies @deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @maddam-redder @queenofthedark @neverthelass
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Yves was glad he was allowed to follow Runar around, even help with little tasks around the house, but the longer it lasted, the more he started feeling like he had when he had been recovering from his injuries: useless, and scared of it.
He no longer thought Runar was going to punish him for being so useless. No. That wasn’t it.
This morning, over breakfast, he plucked up his courage. »Runar?«
Runar smiled at him, warmly, like he always did. »Hm?«
»What can I do? What do… people who are not warriors do?«
Runar looked at him silently for a moment, and for as long, Yves felt an unknown fear clench his heart. He wasn’t afraid of what Runar might do, this time. It was what he would - or wouldn’t - allow Yves to do that worried him.
If he wasn’t allowed to even try to support himself, was he really not a captive?
»You know you don’t… you don’t have to worry about that, right?« Runar finally said, searching his face.
Yves hesitated, then nodded, his heart still in his throat. He knew that. Right now, he was only too aware of it. He wanted to say something, he felt like he ought to explain himself, but he didn’t know how.
Runar leant back, his eyes still on Yves’ face, but more thoughtful now. »I mean, a lot of us are farmers, but it’s winter now. Housekeeping. Looking after the kids. Tailoring. Lots of spinning and weaving, for the sails and all…«
»I can learn that,« Yves managed. It felt strange, asserting he could do a thing, when for so long, everything around him had been so determined to show him he couldn’t do anything - he found it hard to believe his own words. But he could. He knew he could. It didn’t take strength, or any of the qualities he would never possess, a knowledge now beaten into his bones.
He watched for Runar’s reaction to his bold claim, and was flooded with relief to find a small, but warm smile.
»I… suppose you could, yes. If you really want to.« The smile made way for an earnest look into his eyes.
Yves nodded timidly.
* To say Yves felt at home amongst the weavers would have been a gross exaggeration.
But he did feel quite comfortable, and that was more than he would have dared to ask for. The constant chatter - at least one of them was always talking in this big room full of looms and spinning wheels - was oddly calming. Maybe it was because no one felt they needed to raise their voices to be heard; there was one elderly woman with a voice so naturally shrill it startled him every time, but that was, of course, no fault of hers.
Maybe it was just simply the fact that no one here was a warrior.
If he were going to make himself at home here, he could not have chosen a better place to come to. The weavers gossiped, mostly good-naturedly, about so-and-so’s child or so-and-so’s new boyfriend; within the week of starting to come here, he was caught up on all goings-on in the village.
Yves himself rarely spoke. What stories would he tell them? Of a land far away that was nothing to them but prey to their sons and sisters? Of worse?
No, he kept quiet, just let the words and tales wash over him.
It was a good place.
If he were going to make himself at home here.
Runar’s offer of bringing him back still haunted his mind.
Only, back to what? The knights, he had gathered, were dead - and anyway, Runar would not have brought them back to them, that much he knew now. And the farm, before, he only distantly remembered - it seemed like a lifetime ago - would they even remember him? Would they recognize the person he was now from their memories?
Runar had told him he’d rather have Yves stay. Yves did not want to argue. Certainly not for the slim chance of returning a life he had long been taken from.
Perhaps it was for the best he should stay here. Perhaps the fear that had been eating away at him was truly unfounded. Perhaps the village could become home.
He tried to picture it, picture himself as one of them. But even sitting here, passing the shuttle back and forth, careful not to twist his left hand in the way that still shot a sting of pain through his arm after the knights shattered it, listening to the tales and gossip flowing around him, he couldn’t imagine it. Being safe, just like that.
Being home.
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albino-whumpee · 1 year
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Fallen Bridges part 2
Goodness, its finally all getting together. lmao. Hope you enjoy!
CW//Pet whump, slavery, human trafficking, muzzles, shock collars, kidnapping, recapture, betrayal, shovels and death imaginary. Getting kinda dark at the end. Angst, hurt comfort and conditioning. 
Taglist:
If you wish to be taken out or added, please send me a message. 
@castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump  @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker @wingedwhump @unicornscotty @melancholy-in-the-morning
The road to Robert´s house was often without traffic. A big house by the woods with nobody around. A young Rupert Glass had chosen that house in specific because he couldn´t stand busy traffic or stupid neighbors. When he found it on sale, he didn´t even have to ask his wife, as the only thing she said was: 
“I will put roses on the entrance”. 
Those same roses were now withering, Sann noticed. 
The pet had heard the story from Rupert himself once, and when he was there and allowed to, Sann helped Rupert take care of the flowers. 
“C´mon Sann,” Robert said pulling him inside the house. 
The boy offered no resistance. Once Robert´s hand rested on his neck and his tongue sizzled in his ear, his body had simply given up on fighting. Like a switch, one simple touch, one simple order from that man, and he would be on his knees in that dirty basement again. 
A mean burn exploded inside his chest, but he had become an expert in suffocating any flare of defiance. 
With this man, nothing was off the table. 
As he handcuffed him to an anchor on the floor, Sann kept his head down. Something his owner had always liked when he brought him there to punish him, but then, he grabbed his chin and lifted it. 
They stared at each other for a moment. 
Sann looked back in misery while Robert studied his face in silence. 
Robert noticed the tiny changes that had naturally happened when he wasn’t forced to fulfill a dead man’s shoes. At that moment, Robert saw him as Sann, and not that terrible copy of his husband. 
Sann, that murderer´s whore lover. 
Suddenly, he thumbed his cheek with a strange look in his eyes. The pet knew when he was demented, in a frenzy to turn him to a pulp, but even then, his body showed signs. He would have done something else when he flinched away.
“Welcome back” The man grabbed his chin between his thumb and his middle finger, munching up his lips in a bruising hold. “Don’t worry, Sann. You won’t be alone for long”
Sann´s heart stopped. 
What? 
Sann tried lifting his hands on instinct, but the handcuffs would only allow him to rattle the chain a little. 
Kidnapping him was one thing, he had even expected it at some point, but the timing was off. There was also no time to ask about what happened. Wait, could it be it was related in some way to why Albus had run away? But then...Sann´s mental gears turned at full speed, concentrating that he almost missed his owner going away. 
Impulsively, he tried to lift himself, try to beg for answers, before the man threw a cutting glare at him. 
“...what a few months do to you, seriously” He snorted, before pointing at the floor with his finger “Stay. Don´t make me restrain you for real” At the threat, Sann sat back down. When he kept glaring at him, he bowed his head. Then, he grinned. “Good boy” 
A few months away had changed him, indeed. And that´s why he lifted his eyes, trying to ask with just one look why take him back now when he could´ve done it before? when it didn´t hurt.
Somehow, the man stopped climbing the stairs. Turning around to look at him from the corner of his eye. 
Right there in the quiet of the abandoned house, Robert told him something.
“I do this for you too, you know?” he said, before walking outside.
As much as he wished to stay and give his former pet a proper welcome-back party, his favored guest had yet to arrive.
On his way to the car he was pleasantly surprised with the news the 3rd den for runaway and lost pets inside the PCS training facility had the pet numbered 778900 under their jurisdiction, now waiting for the owner, Mister Robert Glass to further instruct them on how to proceed.
Robert took the folder resting on the passenger seat before pulling his phone on his ear. 
“Rob?” he heard Claude say from the other side of the line. 
“Do you want to make him pay for what he did?”
When the recovery team found him, they saw a 5 feet, weak pet. They never expected to find themselves thrown on the ground or have the goddamn bastard move like a snake and choke them. 
They had a team of four and all of them sported bruises and scratches from the tiny pet being escorted inside the den. 
“Down” the guard ordered him pushing him to his knees while another worked the chains and locks. The den had long chains hanging from one wall to the other, hooks every few steps to chain the pets. The chains were so close to the ground they could only sit or kneel. It was designed in such a way, a pet that tugged on the chains would injure the others, thus, any insubordination would be quickly fixed by their peers.
 Albus looked around the room and was surprised by how crowded the place was. All of them, including himself, were muzzled and handcuffed. Their shock collars turned on, waiting for the light to turn red the moment they tried anything. 
“Now,” the man started, reaching for a machine in his belt and fishing the boy´s left hand, uncovering his wrist to find the code bar. Knowing he would be scanned, Albus jerked back. The man wasn´t phased and simply passed his leg over his arms and pulled him. Forcing Albus to either bury his face against his butt or let him work.
He clenched his teeth against the bit before going limp. The man hummed, pleased. 
“There you go, done,” he said, reading the information that appeared on the screen. “Albus, huh? Let´s call your owner and see if he wants you back, hm?”
Ah, if he had noticed them earlier, he could´ve gotten away. Maybe get to those safehouses Sasha mentioned. Maybe he should´ve waited for Sann, maybe he could´ve...
He was taken out of his thoughts when the guard smacked his head on his way out, laughing at him when Albus tried to kick his shin and got zapped in return.
Still feeling the tingly feeling in his throat, Albus tried to relax, to stop his shaking, and focus on what he could do once they took him back. 
What would he even say? They had made it clear they would punish him. It was only natural. Sarahi was a merciful owner, but this crime was beyond it. Maybe, they would choose to return him to PCS, and then he would be refurbished again. But would they even attempt to resell him? He had been so cheap, he was sure the losses would be greater if he was refurbished and trained again. 
If those rumors about the contract having an expiration date were true...then if being refurbished wasn´t an option anymore...
He shook the thoughts away. 
But if he went back to them, he was sure he would have to face Robert at some point. He had traced Sann´s scars with his fingers, he remembered well when he came on “playdates” covered in horrible wounds. 
That man was bad news and he had more than enough reasons to take revenge on him. He would do the same if their places were switched. 
Tears slipped down the muzzle. 
What a pitiful thing. Crying like that when he deserved punishment. But...But even if he didn´t remember what happened, he was sure he had never wanted to hurt anyone. 
But he had. And he hurt people that had become so, so important to him. 
He couldn´t hold his tears back any longer and began crying in silence. 
It was unexpected to feel something bump against his back. When he turned, he found another pet leaning against him, his hands were restrained as well, so he couldn´t do much but slightly rub his cheek against his back. 
He noticed then most of the others were in pairs or groups, leaning against each other, rubbing their shoulders or their cheeks, or even attempting to try and pat another pet´s legs. All of them were there waiting for their owner´s verdict on what to do with them now that they had shown they couldn´t be trusted to not run away. 
The other boy stayed there, leaning on his shoulder before Albus rested his head on his. The boy´s warm presence was enough to slow down Albus´ mind which had jumped into survival mode. 
Enough to notice the mistake in what the den´s watcher had said when scanning him. Albus frowned.
Him? 
Claude, maybe? No, he wasn´t on his papers besides as an emergency contact. His real and only owner was Sarahi. So why..? No, there was no way he had figured out his plan without his letter, right? He still hadn´t received the news! Or...Or maybe... 
For a few minutes, Albus hoped the person who came for him was one freckled guy. He tried to drown his hopes, but thinking maybe he could be saved from a painful future was a beautiful feeling. So, as the den began to empty, and even when the boy that had leaned on him was taken away by what he supposed was his owner, sneaking a wave at him as he was pulled away, the hope for salvation didn´t extinguish entirely. 
Not until he saw a familiar face on the other side of the glass. 
“Hey, mophead!” Albus' stomach churned at hearing that awful nickname again. He looked up, annoyed before his blood froze. “Your owner is here. Lucky you, he still wants you back”
Albus shot a glare at the den´s guard coming his way, the man on the other side of the glass smiling wide at him. 
No fucking way.
In a panic, Albus jerked, paddling away from the man taking off the chains to his handcuffs. A shock quickly froze all his limbs, but even when he was lifted by his armpits, Albus planted his feet and jerked back.
That man wasn´t his owner!
“Stop it!” the guard yelled at him, delivering yet another, longer, shock through his collar that made him howl. However, when the man tugged on his arm to force him to walk, Albus put his hands together and used the momentum to punch him straight in the head. 
The man´s scream alerted the other guards, who burst into the den looking for the pet who had run to the far corner. 
“You little-!” one of the recovery team guys said, trying to grab him. Effortlessly, Albus avoided him, “Grab him!” 
Albus was quick. Like a snake, he slid through openings when they jumped at him. But when he thought he had avoided all of them, he was violently pushed against the wall. The pressure on his trachea was so strong, he couldn´t even scream. 
“I´m truly sorry for the problems my pet has caused you,” Robert told the watchers as he pushed Albus´ face against the wall. “I will be sure to discipline him thoroughly once we get back home” 
Albus whimpered behind the muzzle when the man pulled him to walk, grabbing him tight by the neck. When the pet immediately tried to dig his heels into the ground, the man dug his fingers into his throat. 
“Ack!” Albus cried. 
“Let´s go, Albie. You are not running away from your punishment,” the man said dragging him to the reception. When the pet jerked back, a shock made his world turn white. 
It was just one moment, but it was enough for Robert to drag him out. Once they reached the front desk, Robert slacked his grip making the boy collapse on his knees still trembling from the aftershock. 
“I will only need you to fill these papers and you will be free to take him, sir,” the lady at the other side of the table told him handing him a few blue papers. The man gave her a smile and a short thanks. 
On the floor, Albus watched in horror. How did they not know their mistake? This man wasn´t his owner! This man shouldn´t even be mentioned in his papers! 
"That´s yours?” one bruised guy approached Robert. The terrified pet shook his head when the man smiled. “You should keep it muzzled and collared”
“I will. I´m very sorry for the trouble” 
“We were told he was quite tame, so it was a surprise to see him move like that” the man eyed the pet being held by his collar by Robert. He weakly squeezed his arm, but Robert held his smile as if it was nothing. “You seem able to handle him. Care to tell me how he escaped? Is just for paperwork” 
Robert stared at the man for a second before telling him he had tried escaping as a punishment. 
Albus froze on his knees for a moment. That was not entirely false...but even then! He kept trying to get free from the man´s grasp.
The man hummed, scratching his chin before shooting a glare at the lady behind the table. “You know? When we received the alert, it was a woman who talked with us. Was it your wife that called us?” 
Albus' dizzy head cleared up for a second at the man´s words. 
He knew something was wrong! It was Sarahi who call them! Sarahi was his owner! He had to tell them.
“Oh no, she is--” 
With great effort, Albus launched himself up to grab the pen in Robert´s other hand. Even when the man tried choking him again, his hand rushed to write on the floor. 
“Knock it off!” Robert yelled, tugging on his collar so hard he had to twist on himself. However, the damage was done. 
“He´s not my owner”?” the recovery team member read out, shocked to see a pet being able to write, but drowining the amusement to lock eyes with the girl on the desk. Albus felt Robert ease his grip on him and used that chance to scurry away to the recovery guy´s feet. Out of reflex, the guy grabbed him by the collar.  But even then, Albus felt victorious as he watched the lady whisper something on the radio and Robert stared at the guard in complete silence. 
“As I said over the phone with miss Lauren, my pet has yet to get used to his new home. He is refurbished. You know how refurbished pets always have trouble adapting” Robert exhaled loudly. The man looked unconvinced, but Robert didn´t push. Not until a security guard arrived. “I understand your mistrust. It´s not occasional some guy comes here to steal someone else´s pet, isn´t it? But this boy is mine. If you don´t believe me, why don´t you scan his wrist?”
Albus snorted, utterly amused that he thought that would work. 
The guard reached towards his reader and didn´t expect Albus to extend his wrist so readily. 
As the guard worked the scanner, Albus stared at Robert with a mocking grin hidden by the muzzle.
The reader´s alarm went off, and Albus craned his neck to read, knowing he would find Sarahi´s name and address. But no matter how much he squinted, the blurry words didn´t make any familiar names. Instead...
“778900 aka. “Albus”. Owned by: Robert Glass” the man read out loud. 
Huh?
The pet snatched the machine off the guard´s hands before he could even react. Seeing with his own two eyes that man´s name appeared on the screen. Even though the address was the same, even if his photo was correct...why?
An electrifying pain shot through his whole body. 
“Gimme that,” the guard snatched back the reader and showed it to the woman as Albus panted on the floor.
“If this isn´t enough, would this help?” Robert smiled easily. Then, slowly, he took out a folder from the inside of his coat. “Here is his contract, the receipt, the shipping date, the details of his training -- both of them. I had no need of a romantic for the work I wanted him for. Oh, that reminds me, his work permit,” the man smiled as he took the documents one by one. 
By then, Albus was already kneeling before them, stretching his neck to catch even a glimpse of those documents. He had seen them all before, a long time ago, so he should be able to tell if they were his papers, but he couldn´t see them if the guy kept tugging on his collar. But, there just was no way. They had to be fake!
As the woman looked over them, Robert tilted his head, holding his chin with one hand, “Hm, I feel like I´m missing something...”
“His pet I.D.” A man said from behind Albus, freezing all the blood on his body.
Slowly, Albus turned to find the mountain of a man towering over him with severe eyes looking down at him.
“Oh right, thank you, Claude” Robert said taking the card and showing it to the woman and the guards. “The woman who called is his wife. We were enjoying a great night when Albie did a little fuck up and chose to run for it. Isn´t that right, Claude?”
“...Yeah” 
Albus began to shake as Claude pulled him up by his arm and kept a firm grip on him. Albus' heart began to pound.
“The names match” The woman announced, making Albus snap at her. He shook his head slowly. How? Even his card? But...But how? He looked at Claude again, but the man´s eyes were nailed on Robert.  
“Do you need anything else or can I take my pet home to continue where we left off?” 
Albus shook his head vigorously as the guard and the woman exchanged looks. But his heart dropped when the guard put away the reader and knocked his head so the other man went away.
“Apologies, sir. As you said, it´s not unusual some opportunist wanders in trying to get a quick buck from the pets. I heard he was one hard catch, so please, be sure to keep an eye on him. Escapists tend to relapse” he told him, giving him back the folder. Robert laughed lightly. 
“No worries officer, I´ll make sure he learns his lesson very, very soon” 
Albus watched as he signed all the paperwork, mind blank until the corners of his mouth began to taste like iron with how hard he was clenching his teeth around the bit. 
Noticing something else was rolling down his eyes, he rushed to wipe them off as Robert finished the paperwork and signaled Claude to bring him over. The man wasn´t gentle when he pulled him out the door holding his head down as they walked their way to Robert´s car.
“In you go,” Robert said opening the trunk and shoving Albus inside despite the boy´s thrashing. But Claude´s size and force were enough to throw someone half his size inside a car´s trunk. 
“AGH!” The boy cried as his back crashed against something hard and metallic, knocking the air out of his lungs. He tried to climb out when Claude grabbed his legs and handcuffed his ankles together. 
“Stop moving” Claude growled and when the boy tried to climb out, the man grabbed his shirt and shoved him back inside hard enough to make the car shake. “STOP” Albus trembled violently, but didn´t try to climb out again. 
The trunk was shut closed on his nose and Albus could hear the engine start and the car starts moving. 
He desperately tried to even his breathing, go still and clear his mind already wondering what exactly was gonna happen to him. 
Were they gonna kill him? What kind of punishment could “correct” this? Robert was set on finding it, that was for sure. All the punishments Sann had the trust to tell him about, all the others he had to figure out himself, and the ones he was sure Robert was depraved enough to try, rushed through the pet´s head at a shocking speed. 
Terrified of his brutal imagination, the boy grabbed his head between his hands.
Why did it have to go this way?
His heart was pounding so hard, he feared he might die of a heart attack before he could be punished. It was so hard to breathe and there was something below him poking him, so in a sudden outburst of rage, he tugged on the blanket to see the offending object.
Well, seeing wasn´t one of his strenghts, and the trunk was illuminated by one tiny red light, but Albus didn´t need his eyes to trace his fingers around the metal end of the tool. The shape of it was so easily recognizable when he connected the shape of the handle with the one in the other end.
His mind froze for a second when he identified the shovel. 
His body tensed, as he allowed himself to shriek inside his head.
Where did dead pets end up? 
He had sometimes wondered about that in the cold floors of the facility. Maybe some people would cremate them. Maybe others would use their own land as grave. He had never felt the need to ask himself that question while living with his mistress. But he didn´t belong to her anymore, did he?
A second later, fearing he would actually vomit, the pet curled further into himself, covering his mouth with his hand as he sobbed.
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whimperwoods · 2 years
Text
Oswin - Fog and Vertigo
Part 9! Oswin Greystone is a wizard, a con man, and, now, a warlock’s pet. He needs to find a way out of it.
tw: pet whump, tw: non-sexual nudity (he’s technically in his underwear), tw: abuse, tw: abuse by a representative of the law, tw: fantasy cops, tw: threats, tw: mental fog, tw: panic attacks, tw: dizziness, tw: vertigo, tw: vomit mention, kind of nothing happens, but kind of something does
There’s a masterpost now!
Taglist:  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi,  @starnight-whump
****
Oswin could barely believe his luck as his master’s booted feet retreated down the stairs. His jaw still ached faintly from the captain’s tight grip on it and he could hear that voice telling him, low and growling, exactly what would happen to him if he made a noise this time. He’d started shaking and he knew he’d never stop if he couldn’t get the images his master had painted back out of his head.
He waited, keeping his ears open and focusing on what he could hear in the hope that it might drive the thoughts away and settle his racing heart.
The sounds were the same as yesterday, the low hum of men talking and laughing downstairs with no idea he was here. It was hard to imagine why his master thought they would care, given how little they’d seemed to care about him when he was in their dungeon instead of their attic, but that was another thought that didn’t help.
He focused on breathing. He’d been left collared, but with his mouth uncovered. That, at least, he could live with. For now, he could live with that, and for now he needed not to think about what it meant to be able to live with it. He could calm down. He would calm down.
When he felt confident that the man wouldn’t return any time soon, he rose hesitantly to his feet, biting back a curse as straightening his battered knees sent pain shooting through him.
He felt weak and wobbly, but standing at all had been beyond him not so long ago, so he let himself stand still and breathe and wait for the uncertainty to pass, holding his arms out for balance like a toddler. Gods, what was he? How had he been one thing three days ago and become another so fast?
Stumbling over to his master’s desk was more instinct than strategy. It was solid, heavy, and the right height to help him keep upright. Once he was there, though, there was plenty to catch his eye. He moved some papers off of a map of the city, labeled with a set of symbols he couldn’t make heads or tails out of.
Swaying on his feet, he started rifling through the papers instead, and then the drawers, hoping for anything that jumped out as useful. He could tell he wasn’t thinking straight, that the fear and pain were clouding over his mind, but he forced himself to focus. If nothing else, he would focus his eyes on the pages. If nothing else, he would read the words enough times to know what they were about, generally. If nothing else, he would decide if the things were useful.
It was all slow, too slow, painfully slow, and he couldn’t stand for that long, sinking into his master’s chair almost without noticing.
He barely heard his master’s feet on the steps before the man arrived, and even with the spike of terror that hit him, his mind was too slow to react, and he had time to fling himself from the chair and onto the floor, but not the time to fix the papers that scattered with him.
“Wizard,” his master barked, the anger in his voice making Oswin curl up into himself on the ground. “Were you going through my things?”
Oswin’s mouth went dry, and the fog in his brain rose up to silence him, his mind too muffled to answer.
As his master’s booted feet came closer, it was all he could do to stammer out the truth - “Yes!”
The feet stopped, and Oswin didn’t have the courage to look up.
“What did you say?” the man asked, an edge of danger in his voice.
“Yes, master,” Oswin said, his voice so soft it almost gave out.
“And did I give you permission to go through my things?”
“No, master.”
Blank. Empty. Howling. Why wasn’t his brain more useful? Why couldn’t he think? Oswin realized he was breathing fast, too fast, fast enough to make his empty, foggy head start spinning on its axis. He pressed his forehead to the floor, hard, in the hope that it might stop the spinning.
His master’s feet were moving again, but even if he’d been fast enough to think of running, he couldn’t have known which way was away. He gasped for air, losing himself to the way the world reeled around him.
The quiet thud of his master’s knees landing on the floor beside him made Oswin flinch away, even as he struggled to make sense of it. A huge hand wrapped around the back of his neck, squeezing in a vague threat he felt more than he understood.
He looked up into his master’s eyes, unable to keep his own locked into the cold brown ones that seemed to spin along with the rest of the world, dizzying and impossible.
All of a sudden, his master released the back of his neck and felt his forehead instead.
“You’re not feverish,” he said, “Pull yourself together.”
The shove that sent Oswin sprawling was almost gentle, compared to most of what had come before it, and Oswin laid his head back down on the floor, trying to find words around his panting breaths. “Th-thank you, master.”
“The next time you touch something that isn’t yours without permission, I’ll crush your fingers under my boot.”
Oswin nodded, the motion making the vertigo worse. His chest hurt. Had his master done something to make his chest hurt? But no, that was him. His lungs. His heart. He felt like he’d messed up a lightning spell, like the energy running though him was too much, too fast, too dangerous.
The toe of his master’s boot pushed his chin away from his chest, and Oswin forced himself to look up at the man again, even as everything in front of his eyes continued to whirl.
“If you can look at things for yourself, you can look at them for me. Stand up.”
No. No, that wasn’t possible. For a moment Oswin didn’t move, but then his master’s face shifted, darkening, and Oswin fought his way through the spinning of the world and figured out how to move.
The floor was definitely down. The floor was down. He rolled onto his hands an knees, which meant his hands and knees were down and his head and back were up. He felt his stomach twist, but the good thing about not having eaten since yesterday was that there was nothing in there to rebel against the pain that still spiked with every twist of his back or the spinning of the world.
When he leaned back, onto just his knees, the spinning got worse, and he had to close his eyes.
His master grunted, displeased. “I said stand, pet.”
Oswin couldn’t nod. Couldn’t speak. He knew which way was which, as long as he didn’t think too hard about the spinning, as long as he didn’t try to look. He struggled to his feet, swaying as soon as he was upright.
His knees didn’t feel any better this time, but what was more pressing was that he could feel the world swinging around him, even with his eyes closed. He half-crouched, trying to give himself a wider base to keep from falling over.
Then his master’s hand was on his chin again, pulling Oswin’s face to tilt up towards his own. “Open your eyes.”
Oswin did, looking straight into those cold eyes, and even as he continued to feel everything whirl, whirl, whirl without stopping, his master’s eyes stayed perfectly steady.
Oswin reached up and grabbed his master’s forearm, moving on instinct before he could think about what he was doing.
“P-please Sir,” No. Wrong. Oswin took in a deep, shuddering breath and tried again, “Please, Master, make it stop!”
His voice sounded afraid, even more than he expected. Even more than he felt, because even the fear seemed blurry beneath the vertigo, like that too was wheeling around him at top speed.
His master sighed. His brow softened, the anger fading. The Captain’s eyes were still cold, still mean, but he was less dangerous now, had to be less dangerous when he wasn’t angry. Oswin started tearing up, his legs still shaking and his grip on his master’s arm still desperate.
His master’s other hand cupped his cheek, moving his face more gently this time.
“Make what stop, wizard? What have you done to yourself?”
“The spinning, master,” Oswin answered quietly. “Everything is spinning.”
The Captain scoffed, letting go of Oswin’s face with a little shove that, disoriented as he was, meant Oswin could only stay upright by closing his eyes again and clinging more tightly to the man’s arm.
“Lie down,” his master said, sounding vaguely disgusted. “You’ll look at things for me later. Get some rest.” He muttered something under his breath that Oswin only half-heard. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
It was a relief to let go of his master’s arm, as much as it made him feel unmoored in the time it took him to get carefully from his feet to the ground.
Everything still spun, but the pressure of the ground against his side was reassuring, more reassuring than being balanced on his feet.
“I’m going to leave some bread,” his master sad, “Don’t eat it until the spinning stops. If you vomit, I’ll make you lick it up.”
Oswin couldn’t bear to think of either the promise or the threat. Instead, he focused on the darkness inside his eyelids and tried, again, to get ahold of himself. His master’s footsteps sounded impossibly regular, descending the stairs, but when they were gone the world seemed even more impossible, somehow.
Everything was still spinning when he fell asleep, too exhausted for even the sense that he was about to fall to keep his frazzled nerves from giving out.
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cowboy-anon · 2 years
Note
Apple wished he had just behaved
Genuinely forgot I'd written this for an ask! Lol. Apple should’ve behaved-
Benji should have too-
CW: Brief blood mention, chin grabbing, crying, hair pulling, manhandling, multiple whumpees, pet whump, punishment mention, successful escape, Stockholm Syndrome
Apple wishes he had just behaved. If he had, he would be receiving Master Clay’s affection right now instead of a punishment.
He should’ve stopped Benji from leaving. Instead, he only told Master Clay after they were gone.
He’d been furious.
Now, Master Clay wrestles Apple to the ground by the hand in his hair. He didn’t have to do that. If he’d just asked, Apple would have just gotten down himself.
Apple bites back a whimper at the sting and stares at Master Clay with big eyes. Master Clay’s angry, but worse, he’s disappointed in him. He must be, because Master Clay only ever gets this close when Apple’s really messed up.
Shame washes over him. Apple looks away.
Master Clay grabs him by the jaw and wrenches it so Apple’s looking back at him. His bruising grip overwhelms any guilt he’s feeling right now. Apple meets his eyes again.
“Where did they go?” Master Clay snarls. The way he says it, there’s no room for reluctance, let alone argument.
But Apple doesn’t know.
His heart flutters even getting the chance to respond to Master Clay, even if his scalp still stings.  “I-I don’t know, Master Clay,” Apple admits. “Benji went out the front door while you were out, about an hour ago. They took money and a little food. Does… that help?” He smiles hopefully.
Master Clay grips his hair tighter, so hard Apple gasps. He stares at him for a while.
Finally, Master Clay growls, “You’re useless.”
He lets go of Apple’s hair and angrily fishes his phone out his pocket. Some tapping, then, “William? I need your help.”
Master Clay walks away, and Apple is left laying on the floor, trying to process all that. Hot tears burn in his eyes.
Master Clay, he called Apple useless. You can’t love something useless, can you? You can only… get rid of it and find something you like better… right?
Apple shakes his head and wipes the tears from his eyes. No, he can’t think about it like that. People love lots of useless things. Like… knick knacks and stuff! People just like to look at those. And—colorful sticky notes! There’s no real reason they’re different colors. It’s just cool!
Apple sits up shakily and rubs his head a little, even as Master Clay grabs his jacket and rushes out the door. He didn’t mean it in a bad way, Apple assures himself. Master Clay must have meant it like he doesn’t need Apple, but he likes having him! Of course that’s what he meant!
Apple sits down on the floor by the couch, still massaging his scalp gently. There’s no blood thankfully. Just a perpetual sting. Master Clay was kind not to hurt him so permanently today. Sometimes it’s different. When Benji runs away, it’s almost always different.
Apple sighs after a bit and curls up on the floor. It’s going to be a while before Master Clay comes back; longer if he can’t find Benji today.
Apple’s been here a lot lately, just laying and thinking and sleeping. He’s too tired for much else these days. And Benji, it feels like they’ve been running more and more. But maybe that’s just the days bleeding together.
Apple rests his chin on his arms and sighs. His head still hurts. He hopes Master Clay finds Benji, for their own safety, yes, but also because it would make Master Clay feel better. Next time he’ll try harder to make Benji stay. Next time he’ll behave. He won’t be so selfish.
Still, it was nice to have Master Clay all to himself, just for a little while.
The Apple Whumpin’ Gang™: @getyourwhumphere​, @milk-carton-whump​, @unicornscotty​, @sideblogformindtrash​, @a-series-of-whumpy-events​, @whumpinggrounds​, @happy-whumper​, @whumperfulart​, @starnight-whump​, @melancholy-in-the-morning (Trying out having the taglist at the bottom lol :) )
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could you do more comfort for Tool? maybe? please? if not thats cool just asking
In the whole of their story this a little more angsty but I’ll put those in the tags lol
[Tool Masterlist]
A radio was crooning down the hall, close enough to drift into the kitchen, but too far to hear the words distinctly.
An old cookbook propped up against the cabinet, half ignored, but Tool gave it a cursory glance every once and a while. What spices, what stages. Inspiration mostly, not quite instruction.
And to be truthful he really only looked at the faded pencil scribbles around the margins. Those they honored very specifically.
Another glance and a stir to the pan before setting aside the remaining ingredients and the board and knife into the sink.
Something soft brushed against his pant leg and Tool tsked.
“How did you get out, you little twerp,” Tool muttered as he rinsed off his hands quickly. Maria’s cat, Mamba, didn’t answer of course, instead rubbing up harder against Tool’s leg, rumbling softly.
With a final look to make sure their sofrito wouldn’t burn, Tool leaned down to escort the cat out of the kitchen. Mamba allowed herself to be lifted, stretching out her limbs for longer than one would assume from the black puff of fur. When finally secured in Tool’s arms, she twisted around to lick his hands.
“Yes, yes, I know you’re curious but you can sniff the floor boards later, Mamba.”
They escorted the invader back to Maria’s bedroom, which of course she cried as if the closed door was a sentence of solitude for a thousand lifetimes. Used to this bit of theatrics, Tool returned to the kitchen.
Thankfully nothing had burnt, but now with an inviting smell drifting through the house.
Some time later as the dish was nearly finished, Tool heard footsteps and a jingle of keys in the door.
“Hey Tool,” Maria called out a moment later, more jingling and shuffling as she hung up her bag and keys. He knew well by now there was nothing to be afraid of with Maria, but still felt that prickle of anxiety anyway.
“Dinner smells good,” a voice came from the walkway. They glanced up to see her leaned up against the wall, scrubs and all. She smiled warmly at him, and he returned a small one.
“It’s, it’s almost done,” said Tool, speaking loud enough to hear. He was proud of that, that I was getting better. Not always easier, but better.
“Great. I’m gonna get changed.”
“I put Mamba in there! Don’t-“ called out Tool as she walked away, only to see a streak of black fly down the hall and back around his ankles.
“Ah!” Exclaimed Maria, chasing after the cat and scooping her up to keep her out of the kitchen. Tool returned to last minute preparations, as he heard Maria mumbling some chastisement to Mamba in Spanish.
He chuckled to himself and smiled. Things were getting better
.
Taggys because I like this one and Tool comfort is #rare
@unicornscotty @as-a-matter-of-whump @starnight-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @whump-it @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @valkyrie-whump @cupcakes-and-pain @whole-and-apart-and-between @misspelledwitch @fanmanga1357-blog @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @just-a-raccoon-in-a-party-hat @blackrosesandwhump @panic-and-chaos @savemycrustysoul @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @suspicious-whumping-egg @wingedwhump @whumpsday
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whumpzone · 3 years
Note
> Rowe, the next time corrupt Tomas is gonna whump Kasia, beg for Tomas to spare him.
> Tomas, when Rowe begs, intimidate him into taking back his words and have him let you whump Kasia. (Maybe even threaten to whump Rowe to teach him that only Tomas can decide Kasia’s fate.)
“N-no!” Rowe’s voice made Master Tomas freeze, his hand held high, ready to be brought down against Kasia’s cheek. “Please, Master, h-h-have mercy on him. I beg you.”
Below him, Kasia stayed deathly still. Master turned slowly; as soon as Master’s eyes fell on him he dropped to his knees like a stone and pressed his forehead to the floor.
“Please, please, spare him. Please.”
Kasia still wasn’t allowed to sleep on a proper bed, or even the sofa. He slept in a cramped cage downstairs. But still, Rowe saw him early in the morning, or late at night after Master had gone to bed. He’d seen the way he dragged himself in and out of that cage, wincing as his latest cuts or wounds were pressed against the metal bars. Seen how he flinched when the post came, or a dog barked outside, or Master’s footsteps thudded from upstairs. 
And Rowe had seen him when he snuck some food from the cupboard, without Master’s permission. He’d looked like a deer in the headlights when Rowe caught him. 
“Don’t tell him,” he had breathed, fear lacing every word. “Please don’t tell him. He’ll- he’ll kill me. I’m sorry, I know you must hate me, I know I’m worthless. But I’m begging you, please don’t tell him.”
Rowe had looked at his sunken cheeks, and desperately thin legs, and nodded. “I won’t.”
But Master had found out anyway.
Master left Kasia for a second and walked towards Rowe, who was quaking on the ground in front of him. Folded over, submissive, desperate. “Why would I do that, my sweet Rowe? Have you forgotten what this mutt did to you? How he made you feel? I haven’t.”
He bent on one knee and coaxed Rowe back up to a kneeling position, cupping his face gently. “I’m doing this for you, love. I have to make it right. He hurt you, and I’m making sure he never does again. Do you understand?”
Rowe stared up at him with wide eyes, trying to decide whether it was worth it to keep begging. Master was right; Master was always right, but somehow it was getting harder and harder to reconcile the memory of Kasia towering over him with a knife with the man across the room, half-starved, weak and terrified.
“I-I understand, Master. I just-”
“No, no, Rowe, don’t beg me anymore.” Master’s grip on his face tightened. “He told you to say that, didn’t he? Thought I’d go easy on him if it came from your mouth.”
“No, Master! No, I swear, he didn’t say anything to me, I promise I promise-”
“Shhh. Fine. But you understand he still needs punishing, don’t you? You understand what he is? I would hate for you to start sympathising with him.”
Master’s face turned hard, and Rowe knew he couldn’t argue any longer. Master was giving him one last chance to be obedient. “I understand, Master. I won’t do it again.”
“Very good. Now, go and make yourself useful somewhere else, please. Kasia still needs correcting for this little slip-up.”
-
tagging @inpainandsuffering @cupcakes-and-pain @crystalrainwing ! 
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spookyboywhump · 3 years
Note
►Cain, bring on the pain. (Yes I asked that just for the rhyme 😆)
Cain brings on the pain with a cane :3c
CW: Caning but it’s more of a beating-
***
 When Cain chose to cane him, he didn’t go with one of the flimsy, stinging rods- not that he didn’t have a shortage of those. Instead, he picked up a cane, his father’s old walking stick, it wasn’t something he chose often, but when he did, it meant he was mad. 
 Zander was on his knees, curled up with his hands over his head in hopes to avoid any more head injuries than necessary.  He clenched his jaw and hissed through his teeth as the cane was brought down hard on his back, striking his spine and causing his eyes to water. He didn’t want to think about the bruises this would leave, he already knew he’d be in pain for at least a week, if not more.
 Another strike against his shoulder blades, another strike against the center of the back, suddenly the cane came down on his fingers, folded over the back of his head, and he cried out, jerking his hands away, sitting up only slightly to hold his hands in front of him. He was relieved to only see red marks over his fingers, he was sure nothing was broken, but that relief didn’t last long when the cane cracked against the side of his head, nearly knocking him over and splitting open a barely healed cut on his forehead, blood running down the side of his face.
 “Come on mutt,” Cain sneered, jabbing him with the tip of the cane, “I’ve barely touched you, you still have so much more to go.” He said, driving his point home with another strike against his back.
 All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut, attempt to cover his head again, and simply wait for the punishment to be over.
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brutal-nemesis · 5 months
Text
Goretober XI: No Castyses Were Harmed in the Making of This Program (Probably)
Little wrap-up thing to send the cockroach boy home so he can take a nap no gore in my last @coyotehusk goretober thing but what can you do
←Previous - Castys Masterlist - Goretober Masterlist
Ingredients: strangulation, boy is released to restful freedom
Castys hadn’t been hurt yet today, which was odd. Kuro had just gagged him and tied him to the chair, and was currently poking at him, her eyes seeming…sad.
“Well, Castys, it’s been a lot of fun playing with you, but I think this’ll have to be it for our time together.” Wait, what? This bullshit was finally over? He didn’t have any clue why, but he was too excited to care. Even as Kuro started to strangle him, relief flooded through his veins. How was he even going to get back, since he had no clue where he was? No idea, it didn’t matter, he was dying and he got to go home, dying to go home, if you will. He could barely hear Kuro’s last words as his consciousness faded.
“Until we meet again, Castys.”
He woke up at home, in his own bed, no gag in his mouth, no blood on him or the shorts he was wearing. It…it couldn’t have been a dream, the pain had been so damn real, but…maybe some weird magic was the cause? Whatever. Hopefully his roommate hadn’t been worried about him since he’d been gone for a few months at least. 
He should probably try to rest or something, but there was only one thing he wanted at the moment, and that was a candy stick. Sliding out of bed, he headed for the pantry.
It was good to be home.
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Bonus happy guy and his candy stick <3 ( 1 | 2 )
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comfy-whumpee · 7 months
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Glimmer
Back again! Last piece: Equinox.
Beloved taglist: @bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @rosesareviolentlyread, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @burtlederp, @starnight-whump, @mylifeisonthebookshelf
-
Rozen knocked on the door, and Joe opened it. He looked surprised, and then made a sheepish glance over his shoulder. Siobhan was visible in the kitchen.
“We were invited over,” he explained half-heartedly. “Nic said they had to go out, so we came.”
Rozen had received a message from them an hour ago, but they’d been asleep. It was only Ellis’s messages that were set to ping loudly 24/7. That was a mistake they would have to rectify.
“I was also invited over,” they told him. Ellis got his height from his father, and they had to look up to stare him down. “By Ellis.”
“Oh.” He stepped aside to let them in, looking uncertainly towards the kitchen. He took a step towards it. “I’ll let Siobhan know. Would you – like a drink?”
“No, thank you,” they said, tone flat. It wasn’t even his house. They glanced at Siobhan, who seemed to be ignoring them, working at a frying pan. They sighed, and climbed the stairs.
Ellis was sitting in the middle of the mattress, visible the moment they reached the landing. They paused in the open doorway, not willing to intrude unless they had to. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink. They hadn’t either. “Take your time,” they said by way of greeting. “I’m here.”
The relief on his face was stark, and he sighed, covering his face for a moment. Rozen waited patiently.
“Nic called them,” he explained after a moment, voice hushed so they couldn’t hear. “I was asleep.”
Rozen’s lips thinned. It wasn’t like Nic to do something like that. They had followed Ellis’s lead every step of the way until now. They’d jumped the gun. It must have been a bad day for them, and they had always taken too much onto themself.
“They went, with – Felicity. So I woke up and…” He shook his head.
They took a breath. They stepped into the room. “You didn’t agree to this and it shouldn’t have happened before you were ready.”
“I should be ready,” he whispered from behind his hands. He was always all too aware of what he should be.
“Not important. This is your recovery and you have the final say. If you want them to leave, we will make them leave.”
He peeked between his fingers, and then seemed to get self-conscious of it and put his hands into his lap. “It’s okay. They… They’re trying to help.” His tone was unconvinced, even as he tried to persuade himself.
“I’m glad to hear it, but that doesn’t change your authority, on these small things especially. They’ll survive being at home for another week or two. You were working,” their voice firms, “on getting better on your own terms, and the last thing you need is a reminder of their expectations of you.”
His ears burned. He stared at his fingers, twisting together. “They, I can’t let them see. I can’t let them see me now.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” they interrupted, keeping their voice gentle. “The choice is yours. If you would rather it be me and you, until Nic comes back, then it can be. No parents until you’re ready.”
His shoulders hunched. He tried to keep the explanation in, but it was difficult, they could see. His lips were pressed together tightly. He felt guilty. But Rozen had spent enough time working with his parents that they had a good picture of their shortcomings, as all parents were domed to have.
Siobhan and Joe were overprotective and over-permissive. Their intentions were always good. They wanted to see their son. They worried about him. They wanted to support him. They would offer him unconditional love. How could they understand that he was used to conditionals now?
He’d been away for so long that it didn’t matter if he was five or fifty, he’d be treated like a glass statue, and that was far too similar to how Engels had treated him.
“I can’t make them leave,” he decided. The pressure was too much for him to push back. “And I did… I did miss them.”
A decision is a decision. They pivot. “Alright. Then we do damage control.”
-
His mum always made pancakes like crepes. They were piled four-high on a dinner plate with sugar and chocolate spread set out alongside it. There were premade, toaster-ready scotch pancakes in the cupboard. He wondered if she’d not noticed, or if she’d dismissed them as not good enough.
Somehow, the weirdness of Rozen’s presence at the table made it less weird overall. Mum, dad, son, and hired detective. Ellis was the only one with a plate, though his dad had made himself a coffee.
He bit his tongue as he caught the smell of it. It was Nic’s favourite. One of their fancy ones. And his dad had just helped himself. Didn’t ask Ellis for permission. Ellis would have said yes, but he didn’t ask.
That wasn’t fair, though, was it? It was just coffee.
He really didn’t want to eat with both of them staring at him. He wished he’d let Rozen kick them out. They were more than willing to be the bad guy.
Maybe they knew what he was thinking, because when he didn’t move, they spoke. “I advised you not to come until he was ready.”
The bluntness threw his parents off. Both of them looked away from him.
“Nic invited us,” Mum said.
“Nic doesn’t get to decide. Only Ellis can. He did not invite you.”
Ellis stole a bite of crepe. He was still chewing when Mum looks back to him. “Do you not want us here?”
He dropped his gaze. The food suddenly lost its taste.
Rozen had his back. “That’s not the point,” they interjected, tone still level. “Asking for forgiveness is not the same as asking for permission. Ellis hasn’t had control over his own space and who he gets to see for a long time. It’s hard for him to express his boundaries.”
This was what they had discussed upstairs. Rozen had told him to speak for himself, but that they would if he didn’t.
It wasn’t the right thing to say, though. Mum turned her head away. “He was going to be left alone. You told us he can’t be left alone, after that – the cupboard.”
It felt wrong, that she knew about the cupboard. He didn’t expect her to bring it up. Nic wouldn’t talk about details like that out of nowhere, and Felicity and Iz didn’t know about them. But now that they were in the conversation, it felt… It felt like exposure of just how messed up he was. Can’t be left alone.
He had to speak. He had to be part of this. He opened his mouth.
“And you can’t blame us for wanting to come,” Dad put in. He sounded less argumentative than Mum, but just as stubborn. “Even if he had told us to go when we got here. It would have been worth it to come.”
“It’s fine,” Ellis broke in before Rozen could retort. “It’s fine, you can stay.”
Their relief was instantly palpable. It turned his stomach. He shouldn’t have this much power.
They clearly thought the conversation is over, but Rozen was cuing him for the other thing he wanted to say. “That’s your choice,” they said firmly. “Do you have any ground rules?”
He took a breath. It had been a long time since he had to do this. The last time he’d stood up to them, the last time they went too far in their protectiveness… It was for Nic.
This time, for himself.
“This is my house,” he said. His voice dipped to quiet, but they listened. They did always listen. “It’s, this is – my space. So you have to ask me for things. Not get them, take them yourselves.” He looked at his dad’s coffee mug. “It’s Nic’s house too.”
“Of course, sweetie,” his mum agreed. They would listen, if he told them, when he told them.
“And don’t,” he took a breath, “don’t assume what I want. I’m not a kid. You have to ask, and if I say no, you can’t – you can’t say anything back. Because I won’t be able to argue. I’m… not there yet.”
He saw the twinge of pain in Mum’s eyes, and his dad turning his down to the table. They understood, a little.
They listened.
“I didn’t want you to come because I wasn’t ready but it’s too late now,” he finished, all at once. “So just be patient and don’t – just try to do things your way. I need to choose.”
His heart was pounding as he stopped, and he waited in the silence that followed, tensed for the pushback, the shutdown, the dismissive, cutting looks and comments and are you done making demands?
It he was just a pet, and pets didn’t get to do this, didn’t get to say these things, if he would be in trouble…
“Okay,” his mum agreed. “I know I’m not good at that so I’ll try and you can tell me off.” She didn’t look away from him. “Thank you for telling me.”
His dad nodded. “We just want to help. However we can.”
“I think there was one other thing,” Rozen prompted gently.
Ellis sucked in another breath. Of course.
“Call me my name,” he requested. “Don’t say, um… Darling. Or sweetheart. Those things.” He couldn’t meet their eyes, his face warm. “That’s what he called me.”
He didn’t want to see the tears. He didn’t want to see the pain. He had to look after his own.
“Okay,” his dad replied, hushed.
He glanced up in the following silence. His dad wasn’t really the one he needed to change, but his mum…
“What about gingersnap?”
He blinked at her. She was smiling, the brave kind of smile that he recognised from himself.
They hadn’t called him that since he was little. His eyes filled with tears and he forced them down. Crying was too tiring.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, that’s… Yeah.” He smiled back.
After his pancakes, he messaged Nic.
Hope you are getting good sleep. I’m okay. Love you.
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What if Vincent was Jonah’s captive au?
I'm so sorry it took so long, I had it in my drafts because I wanted to add a thing or two and then I simply forgot 🙈
Okay, an AU where Vincent is Jonah's captive... I tried that for exactly one drabble and I still don't really know what to think about that XD Jonah simply isn't the kind of man who would make someone his captive just for funsies, so it would probably be a scenario where Jonah wants revenge for what Vincent did to him. But even then Jonah wouldn't really know what to do with Vincent, he just isn't a cruel person. If he would be very, very angry, he'd tie Vincent up with his hands over his head and he would beat him up just to get rid of all his anger and frustration. If he was in a very cruel mood he'd probably make use of all his knowledge about Vincent and let him face his worst fears - that's the good thing about sharing a house with someone for such a long time, you get to know very much about them 😏
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albino-whumpee · 1 year
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Fallen Bridges
...eheheh. 
Hope you like this. Can´t believe I´m actually working on this. 
Taglist:
@castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn-blog@ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump  @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @wingedwhump @unicornscotty @melancholy-in-the-morning
Please tell me if you wish to be added or taken out of the taglist!
CW//Pet whump, emotional whump, failed escape attempt, recapture, ptsd, grief, mentions of child death, suicidal ideation, shock collars, ghosts and angst. so much angst. 
He couldn´t breathe. Even if he knew it was useless to try to escape, he didn´t stop running. Just to make sure he wasn't followed, he turned his head, making himself trip down a short hill. He rolled and crashed against a puddle on the side of the road. 
However, for a second, the two centimeter puddle became a lake where his head was submerged and kept there a minute. Then two. Screams became bubbles that popped when they reached the surface.
With a gasp, he returned to reality, paddling and slamming his back against the busted pipe the water was pouring from. 
Albus gasped like a fish out of the water, the telltales of a panic attack taking his lungs captive. 
He couldn´t stop, he wasn´t safe, but where was safe? Was there a place like that for him? He pulled himself up…only to fall back on his elbows when his legs refused to stop shaking violently. 
His heart was pounding so hard he feared it would beat out of his chest.
“Calm down! You gotta calm down, Albus! This is all a big mistake,” he screamed inside his head, his pitiful attempts at breathing only making his chest clench harder. 
“This is all a big misunderstanding. I- I didn´t-” he said, clenching a hand over his chest with a pained groan. “M-Mister Claude just- just... had an episode,” he tried to reason between pants “M-Mister Claude didn´t mean t-to put on the collar…” he half laughed between huffs, immediately stopping when his trembling fingers passed around the box of the shock collar. The electrodes punctured into his skin with how tight the collar had been cinched. 
The pet´s forehead began to pearl with sweat. 
“I-I had nothing to do with what happened,” He said as memories of rushing, of panic at being chased rushed through him as he looked at the road, where a van passed by at full speed and then…
Turning and turning and turning…
He held his head in his hands and shut his eyes. 
“I wasn´t there! It wasn´t my fault!!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, shaking his head from side to side. After a second he said lower, almost in a whisper, “How the hell could I have gotten out?! I didn't do it!” he screamed as tears began to fill his eyes. When he opened them, drops of rain began to drop on his face. “It's impossible…”
Don´t worry, Al, the clouds will cry for you.
That tiny voice told him again. He had broken into tears when he saw the sky a long time ago. But that day…it was a sunny day. 
People shouldn't die on sunny days.
The boy was silent for a long time then, before a bitter laugh escaped his lips.
 “I didn´t kill them…right?” his voice shattered as he dropped his head. The rain carried his tears until he curled into himself and sobbed.
If it was true, if his dreams of the road and the van were of his owner´s, then. 
“What kind of sick joke is this?!” he shouted, punching the mud puddle forming below him. 
Of all the places he could have ended up, he ended with the people whose lives he ruined? The person who picked him and gave him a chance to be a person and not just her pet. The person he took care of when pain was too much for his body to forget, the person he detested and the person he loved more than anything…he ruined their lives.
And, as if that wasn´t enough, he had taken their most precious people's lives, too.
Right there in the middle of nowhere a pitiful pet crashes down and cries for sins that can not be forgiven.
It was his fault. 
All of it. 
Albus screamed until his head pounded.
“Why did it have to go like this? This wasn´t supposed to happen!” he punched the ground below him again before curling into himself, cradling his wounded abdomen. Mister Claude had never laid a finger on him. Mistress Sarahi had always loosened up his collar to sleep. He was so comfortable with his life, he had forgotten she had bought tools to punish him.
A terrifying thought crossed his mind then. 
Did she know? From the beginning? 
He shook his head. No, if she had known from the beginning, a shock collar would have been the first thing she would have given him. 
She would've given him to Robert as a gift, if she had known. 
The rain began to pour when he passed his hand over his throat, the shock collar undeniably wrapping firmly against it. 
He had been so scared of being returned, he had forgotten he could still be punished while living as her pet? No, not even him had gotten that naive. But he had thought he had done everything in his power to avoid that.
How was he supposed to know he had already failed before they even met?
He pushed himself up to continue walking. Once they found him, it was over for him. Being returned was the least of his concerns. He knew his owners. Or at least, he knew them enough to know returning him wouldn´t be the end of it. Even if it weren´t them,  that would never be enough punishment.
He halted as the rain slowly began to turn into hail. 
Then what would be enough? What kind of things could they do to him to make him pay? What kind of torture would be enough to make someone pay for that? Would he be the only one to receive such a punishment?
“S-Sann!” he shouted, urgently taking a step towards the house, but stopping. “...he has nothing to do with this, in any case, he is also a victim…” 
Albus stared at the road for a second before his lips curved into a smile that didn´t reach his eyes.
“Don´t worry, Sann. You won´t see me again after you leave” he looked down at his soaked clothes then. It wasn´t him he should be worrying about, but his former owner. 
His gut churned so hard he wavered. 
What would he do if he knew? The mere thought made his bones quiver. He took a deep breath before lifting his eyes in the direction of her house. “Even when things have turned like this, you wouldn´t break your promise with me, right, ma´am?” 
As if to answer for her, the storm roared.
He clenched his teeth hard.
He could do nothing but pray she would. 
Albus was tracing a route in his head when he turned his head up to find a little boy before him. 
His breathing stopped as he watched the kid crouch. The rain passing through his body, the only giveaway to what exactly he was actually seeing. 
“Charlie…” his voice trembled as the little boy smiled at him. 
The boy says something so low it takes him a solid minute to understand what it meant, but before he can even try to reply, the ghost is gone. 
He was still processing the kid´s words when he catches something from the corner of his eye. But he can´t react fast enough to avoid being tackled down and expertly have his hands handcuffed. 
“Get me the muzzle!” an agent from the recovery team screams as he pins Albus down on the mud. 
“Claude!” Sarahi yelled at the man entering through the main door. “Did you find him?” 
The man shook his head. 
“Maybe it's better this way. Sann always went on walks with him. If someone knows in what kind of hole that rat would go hide into-”
“Claude…” Sarahi cut him, making the man´s frown grow tighter, before he sighed. 
“I´m repulsed by myself. Knowing we took care of that- that murderer!”
“Claude! Please…stop it” Sarahi had wrapped herself in the living room´s blanket, still shaking like a leaf after having called the police to inform of her runaway pet. 
A runaway…In the end, he did end up escaping.
She was wondering if the slight relief in her stomach was because of that when Claude sat next to her to pull her into a hug. 
“Sarahi…” he called sweetly before she pushed him away. His eyes blew wide before his face twisted into anger he could barely contain “I know he was your pet, but you can´t seriously think that-!” 
“I can't seriously think what? That I can't be bitter that my own pet turned out to be the reason I ever needed a pet?! The reason I was left all alone?!” at her screaming, the man shut up.
“...You aren't alone. You have me," he whispered.
Sarahi let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I have you.” to the man, that simple phrase felt like a knife drove directly through his heart. “If it's the day we all become honest, then tell me Claude, where the hell did you learn all this about Albus, hm? I'm sure the Glass residence isn´t a place that would have that kind of information” 
Claude stayed silent for a second. “It's a lot more complicated than you think. Sarahi, I-”
“Do you think I wouldn't notice you were lying? C´mon, Claude. Where the hell have you been working until now?”
Claude´s face turned darker and darker as he carefully explained to her. Word after word, a new wrinkle of horror appeared on her face, until she jumped up and rushed to take her car keys. When she slammed the door on her way out, Claude´s heart shattered along the glass. 
He had hoped she would come back, but when he heard the sound of tires scraping against the pavement, he slouched. 
He took a deep breath, then.
What had he expected? 
He huffed through his nose, thinking it was because of the albino´s files that he even got ratted out. 
Ah, yet another thing he wanted to make the boy pay for. 
He still remembered the boy´s files, so an hour of futile waiting later, he was sitting in their bed with papers scattered around him. There it was.  The obvious proof of torture before he was taken in, the scars that now made sense. His real age. 
Holding the files covered in dried bloody fingerprints after learning the truth made a pang of guilt appear. 
Even if he was the reason, why…?
Claude´s jaw clenched hard as he gripped tighter on the papers. 
“This is not enough!” he cried out, furiously wiping furtive tears. “You took them away! My only family! And yet-!”
Without thinking, he threw the papers away and at the sound of glass shattering, he turned back to see the shards of the tea the boy had left by their bed. Just like every night. His pills, along with Sarahi´s, scattered on the floor above the soaking pages of his files. 
He was the reason, and yet, he couldn´t deny he thought of him as family now. Before he even knew what hell was, the boy had already gone through it twice. It wasn´t enough reason to forgive him, but…
Claude turned, and buried his head into his hands. 
“Fuck…” 
An hour after that, he was putting back the files into a drawer when suddenly, his phone rang. 
“Rob?” 
It took a long moment for him to speak again. When he did, his voice sounded ragged, but in such a calm tone, it made Claude´s hairs stand on end. 
“Do you want him to pay for what he did?”
Sarahi wouldn't remember how she had gotten there, but she would remember the cold ice raining down on her as she walked up to their graves in the cemetery. 
Her clothes were soaked when she stepped into the cemetery. The old keeper simply followed her with his eyes until she stood in front of two graves. 
"Charlie" she called for her first born, a torpedo of a child before she turned her eyes to the grave next to it. "Fran…" the youngest, the baby boy who never wanted to leave her side. Always trying to climb up for her to hold him in her arms. 
The baby boy that had been jumping in her lap on an ordinary car trip until she woke up to the news he had been buried months earlier. She crumbled right before the small crosses with her children´s names. 
The children she couldn't even say goodbye to because nobody knew if she would wake up or not. 
Her cries were so ragged, it seemed they wished to rip a hole into the sky. Maybe dip into that garden where that filthy god kept them as roses and take them with her. Maybe in such a way, her throat would rip and would let them join them up there. 
In reality, she knew her wish was to simply have had the chance to see them. At least one more time. 
Just to say goodbye. 
After a while, her crying stopped, but the tears continued to flow down her cheeks. 
“You know?” she sniffed “He thought I didn't see him, like most of the time when he was doing something he shouldn't” her lips were tightly on place. Not even the hint of a smile came up. “but I know he saw you,” she confessed before silent graves. “I heard him laugh sometimes. I heard him say he was scared of me finding out he could talk with you. At first I thought it was just a sick joke of his. But then…” But then the little things he should´ve never known about began to pop up. “...If you really…if you really talked with him…” she slowly lowered and bent into herself, tears flooding again as her voice trembled. 
“Are you mad at me?” her lips pursed tight, before she took a deep breath. “...for letting him in and letting him take care of me when he…When I used him to fill the gap you left. Because I loved him like I loved you? Do you hate me? Because he became family, but...But he destroyed it! Twice for fuck sake!” she howled, snot beginning to run over her mouth before she furiously wiped it away. 
“Charlie, Fran…Are you angry with me for not hating him as much as I could?”
Of course, there was no answer. 
She gripped tightly on the mud below her knees. 
“I wish I had never woken up” she declared “If this was what was waiting for me, wasn´t hell a better choice?” she said through gritted teeth and burying her face into her hand before another river of tears flowed down her eyes. 
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tears-and-lilies · 3 years
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💖💓💝
😊😊😊 thank you!!!
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redwingedwhump · 3 years
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Can you add me to David and Alice's taglist? :D
Yes I can! Thank you for reading!
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froggywhumpy · 3 years
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🌼
For Drew and Jason?
Hi @starnight-whump :) I hope you’re having a good day so far!
Jason lost one of his close friends in middle school, and that sort of prompted him to look out more for the people around him, and it’s one of the reasons why he’s so protective of his current friends
Drew has never lost anyone super close to him. If he did, he would probably respond by blaming everyone around him, and not knowing how else to cope (and instead of going to therapy like a REGULAR PERSON) he would probably take out his anger on those around him
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