#(sobbing he's already becoming a caretaker to it...)

[phonypizza]

That’s a Pokémon, Pino! They mostly eat sugary desserts, I think? And berries, curry, and sandwiches. As for what to drink, water, lemonade, and soda will do.

"Eh? I'mma not sure what that is, but that's not really healthy-sounding." He knows he isn't one to talk, but he'll figure something out... "That's-a too much sugar."

Though... water seems like a good idea. Yeah. He'll get this little egg creature some water. Its little arms don't seem like they can hold a glass, and making it drink from a bowl feels wrong...

"Oh, right. We have straws." He lays out a clean dishrag on a countertop and picks up the Pokémon carefully, before laying it on the dishrag. Pino bustles over to the sink, filling a plastic cup with water before capping it with a drink lid and fitting a straw into the middle. The chef walks back to the bemused egg and gently places the cup by it.

... Hopefully it won't need a demonstration.

[mochinomnoms]

i know in the leech family that its a running joke that the mc is their cleaner shrimp and i cant help but think when its finally the leech parents turn!

Imagine mc and the leech family are going out to do some family bonding and the mc causally picks off some lint or hair off papa leech or mama leech and their mood just instantly brightens :D They go like “thank you dear! Is there anything else on me?” And the parents are just spinning around happy because their child-in-law is doing shrimp things with them! (Meanwhile jade and floyd are off to the side being like “what about me D:<”)

also may I be 🪸 anon or 💫 anon?

YEEAAAAH FAMILY SHRIMP!!!

I think it's a very sweet idea! Whether it's just one of the twins or both that you've gotten involved in, they both enjoy your fretting and picking at them. Floyd most often gets your attention, as he's always getting up to stuff and messy. However, he's more prone to scrapes from basketball and burns from cooking at the lounge, so he gets lots of attention from you. Floyd loves it, he loves being taken care of for once, instead of being feared or seen as a big bad eel. He needs loving too! He needs to be treated tenderly and kindly. Floydie just wants to be loved, and who better to do that than you?

Jade on the other hand will just get dirty when hiking and foraging, but rarely get any scrapes or cuts. He might bruise here or there depending on how it went, but over all you're more likely to need to clean stray twigs, leaves, and dirt for him. In fact, you'll find Jade approaching you after his extensions, every single time, asking for your assistance. Maybe join him in the bath and help him clean up? As his cleaner shrimp? Pretty pleeease? After all, the caretaker needs some caring too sometimes.

When you eventually get introduced to the family and properly fit into your place with the Leeches, with an appropriate shrimp merform! Papa and Mama Leech are just happy that their boys have such a sweet partner. You further solidify your spot when they learn about your “shrimp” tendencies. They think it's so cute! So imagine their delight when you start tending to them like you do their sons!

Papa Leech will often find himself get into...”scuffles” after work. Normally, the family doctor would be available to patch him up, but they were already attending to a patient of theirs. Here comes their resident shrimp, offering to patch him up! You babbling about Floyd and how he always got hurt from his activities at school, so it wasn't a problem. At this point, you're practically a pro! Papa Leech has stars in his eyes, though, he has the cutest child-in-law!!! And you've been doing this for his boys, for free??!! Screw Floyd and Jade if they ever break up with you (like they'd ever would) cause Papa is keeping you in the family for the foreseeable future. Not only are you convenient, but you care for him like family, he'd be a barnacle to let you go. If you're not already married to his boys, prepare yourself, cause he's already organizing the engagement and wedding. No, he did not ask his boys beforehand.

As for Mama Leech, she's been repeated described as a worrywart, and overly cautious, especially regarding her family. I think that, since you weren't brought up in the family like her boys, would be prone to keeping you at her side. If Papa and the twins are off for “work” then you can find her snatching you up for some mother-in-law time to keep you nice and safe! This is when she gets her own version of shrimp tending, via you doing her hair and makeup! She does love dressing up and looking pretty, and is delighted when you start brushing through her hair with your fingers, braiding it and softly applying her lipstick. It's been so long since her boys were little and played dress up with her! But here you are, so sweet and soft and gentle with her! She's now become attached, if you so much as try and leave the family, Mama is sobbing and begging you to stay, while also strangling her sons for what ever they did wrong (she knows they did something the little troublemakers).

I'd say that the twins only get mildly jealous, after all, the more time you spend with their parents the less they get with you! And you're their partner!!! They suppose they should be happy that you get along so well with their parents. Except Floyd. Floyd wishes to monopolize your time and will hide you away with Jade in a dark coral nook. He called you Shrimpy first, it's his right!!!

(I will dub thee 🪸 anon!! welcome!)

[chiharuuu22]

Home

Part 1: I Want to Go Home

Part 2: Take Me Home

Part 3: Welcome Home!

Part 4: I'm Home

PART 1: I WANT TO GO HOME

"Don't get hurt again, Whumpee. Go home immediately; I'm always waiting for you."

The sentence that echoed in Whumpee's head about his last conversation with Caretaker. He walked unsteadily until he finally fell down. It didn't take long until the white snow finally turned red because of the blood that continued to flow from the wound.

Whumper turned out to be hard to beat and he almost lost. Many of his friends had become victims and he didn't want Caretaker to also become a victim of Whumper too. Unfortunately, his eventual battle with Whumper left him drained.

Caretaker is waiting for him now. Caretaker would be angry if Whumpee didn't keep his promise. Whumpee wanted to move; he wanted to walk again, but his body wouldn't listen to his commands.

Whumpee's consciousness drifted further away when he began to hear a faint voice calling him. The familiar voice he always wanted to hear.

"WHUMPEE!"

Caretaker's scream echoed and forced Whumpee to open his eyes. He felt he was in the Caretaker's arms; even though his vision was blurry, he could recognize the Caretaker who was crying.

"Why are you here? I already asked you to come back," said Caretaker in a trembling voice. "You're bleeding, Whumpee."

"Sorry, I was going to go straight back. But apparently, my energy has run out and I feel very tired," answered Whumpee while trying to wipe Caretaker's tears then chuckled. "Sorry, I made your face dirty."

"I'll definitely take you home, Whumpee. Let's rest at home. In front of the fireplace while drinking your favorite hot chocolate," Caretaker tightened her arms and sobbed even more. She panicked because the Team Leader and the medical team had not yet reached their location. "Don't go anywhere, Whumpee. Stay with me. We're going home; we'll definitely be home."

Whumpee coughed and tears started to roll down his cheeks again. "I want to go home, Caretaker. I'm tired."

"Yeah. Yeah. We're definitely going home. Hang in there, Whumpee. We're going home, okay?"

He really couldn't maintain his consciousness anymore. He was really tired. With the last of his strength, Whumpee smiled and let darkness cloud his vision.

[aruanimess]

Maybe I'm influenced by Mihriban's latest chapters, but I kind of like the idea of Armin and Annie having unconventional pets.

~~~

Sure, Annie is a cat person, but Armin already has a bunch of rats when they move in together so she can't get a kitty. She's initially hesitant around them (they're small and squeaky and disgusting), and she makes Armin promise her that he'll do all the caretaking and that they won't bother her at all. Soon, however, she warms up to them. She spends lazy afternoons watching them play and eat and run around in the huge multi-decker cage Armin has built for them (full of microscopic swings and wheels and tiny hammocks), and she finds them oddly soothing. So she starts petting them and cleaning their cage and giving them treats. She likes the little rascals.

One day, while she's giving one of the rats (named Ratosaurus Rex - Rex for short) a bath, she feels a little lump growing on its belly. She asks Armin what it is.

"Probably a tumor." He grimaces. "They develop them very quickly."

Annie is devastated. "Should we get him to the vet?"

Armin sighs. "We will and he may have it removed, but there's a chance that there's nothing to be done. They live awfully short lives, I'm afraid."

Annie is a mess. She isolates herself in the bedroom and cries, refusing to speak, refusing to eat. Armin joins her at night, hugging her close as she sobs in his chest.

"What's the point of having a pet if they're going to die so quickly?" she asks miserably.

"We're not doing this just for us, Annie," he says while petting her hair. "We're doing it for them too. We're giving them the best life they could possibly have. Making sure they're eating well, that they're happy, that they're not alone; that's the most anyone can hope for." He squeezes her arms. "All good things come to an end. In the meantime, we enjoy the small moments."

Tears still swimming in her eyes, Annie says nothing, only buries her face deeper into the crook of his neck. He's right, she supposes, all good things come to an end. She wonders if that's what he tells himself all those times she has walked out on him (only to crawl back a day later). Then it hits her. Armin loves the rats like he loves her. Like her, the rats are small, kind of gross, misunderstood by most people, and not likely to stay long. And, like with her, Armin gives them his whole heart, pledging himself to their happiness until they flourish under his care. And maybe, she thinks, maybe she can love the rats like she loves Armin. Something playful, intelligent and pure, that she's scared shitless of losing, and to which she desperately clings to, nonetheless.

After that night, Annie becomes rat defender No1.

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #3: Surreal

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content: lab whump, medical whump, captivity, accidentally getting outed as trans (dw nothing bad happens), gender dysphoria, nonsexual nudity, needles, top surgery, noncon drugging, manipulation mention, trans whumpee, intimate/creepy whumper, whumper as caretaker

when the whumper can excuse unethical experimentation but draws the line at gender dysphoria. there’s gonna be actual whump in the next chapter i swear, just had to get this stuff out of the way first :>

—

Dew waited until he heard Anton leave the room before he got in the shower. He was happy to have his binder off, but it was still terrifying not knowing what the future will be like for him here.

The bathroom door had no lock, which kinda sucked. He tossed the mud soaked hospital gown on the floor and hid his binder in the cabinet under the sink.

Anton seemed so upset at his poor attempt at an escape. Dew had never been so afraid of the mad scientist, well, it’s not like he knew him for that long anyway. How long had he been here? Two days? He’d get out of this soon, he was sure of it.

But he couldn’t stop that voice in his head telling him he’d ruined his only chances of escape. Anton had mentioned a punishment earlier, was he planning on hurting Dew every time he went against him?

Dew couldn’t stop his mind swarming with the terrible things he saw earlier, trying to block it out by the sound of the water raining down on him. After he washed all the mud off of him, he sat down and curled up in the corner, legs to his chest, feeling the water pour over his head. He didn’t want to think about this, didn’t want to think about being a mad scientist’s lab rat.

It was hard though, when that’s all he really could think about. What was this freak going to do? He hadn’t even started experimenting on Dew yet but he was already terrified. The suspense of not knowing was killing him. Dew tried to ignore it, tried to remind himself he wasn’t going to die here and he just had to wait for his next moment to escape. But how long would it take for that moment to come? How many experiments would Dew have to endure before he’d get another chance?

Dew’s internal monologue was interrupted when he heard the bathroom door open. Dew’s body went rigid, he felt like a deer in the headlights, staring at the shower curtain in the direction of the door, hoping Anton wouldn’t come near him.

“Don’t mind me, Dew,” Anton said nonchalantly. “I’m just replacing your clothes, I’ll leave in a sec—” There was a noise, as if a cabinet door was opening, and a confused hum. Shit.

“A-Anton?” Dew squeaked.

“Yeah, uh,” Anton stood, holding Dew’s binder. “I didn’t know… you’re trans?” Dew’s heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropping and feeling like his entire world was over. “Uh, I’ll go get you some other clothes… be right back.” The door shut, and Dew was left alone once again.

The suspense itself was killing him, if not the fact this captor literally knew Dew’s other only weakness. What would happen to him now? Dew tried to let the pressure of the water raining down on his head drown out his thoughts, but it seemed he just couldn’t stop worrying anymore.

Dew’s spiral was interrupted once again when he heard the door open, and more shuffling on the other side of the curtain. He didn’t dare say anything unless he wanted it to come out as incomprehensible sobs.

“I put some different clothes on the counter,” Anton said. Dew couldn’t decipher his tone, it sounded normal, if not a little awkward, but he never had any idea what the man was thinking. If he didn’t know any better, it sounded like his captor was a bit remorseful. “I’ll uh, talk to you when you’re done?”

Anton once again left Dew alone with his thoughts. He didn’t know what he preferred more, honestly. Being alone, his mind thinking of all the terrible things that could happen to him, or being around his captor, where those thoughts could easily become reality.

The only thing Dew could really do was be done now. The water was starting to get cold, and he didn’t want to anger the scientist any more by taking too long. He peeked his head out the curtain to see a baggy sweater and sweatpants. Different from his other clothes, but much better than what he was wearing before. He put them on, and stared at the door.

Dew was tired. He wasn’t going to wait anymore; he had to face what he did, who he was. He had to get it over with, whatever it was that Anton was going to do to him. It’d be over eventually, and Dew could curl up under the bed again.

When he opened the door to see Anton staring at him, sitting cross legged on the edge of the bed, Dew crumbled. Pretending to be strong was so hard when all he felt was fear.

“J-just let me go, please!” Dew cried, falling to his knees. He couldn’t do this anymore. He wanted to go home. He’d do anything at this point. “It’s— you don’t want me. I-I have too many problems you’d have to deal with, it would be too much of a hassle! J-just let me go and t-take someone else to use as your test subject, p-please.” He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t care at this point. He didn’t want to be a lab rat.

“Dew… I’m not mad,” Anton said. Dew still couldn’t read his tone, nor his facial expression. What was he gonna do to him? “And obviously I’m not letting you go either, you learned that earlier. And frankly I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

Dew let out a small sob, but otherwise stayed silent, eyes drifting away. He felt Anton’s stare, his eyes felt like lasers burning into him, the events of earlier hitting him like a truck. He tried to escape, and he was so close.

“I don’t know what terrible thing you thought I would do if I knew you were trans, but I’m not like that. I’m not a monster.” Pretty ironic coming from the guy who kidnapped someone with the intent of turning him into his lab rat. “If you need like, hormones or something, I’ll give you that. You’re my test subject but you’re still human. I want you to stay happy and comfortable for the most part, you know? This factor would just interfere with the experiments.” When Dew still didn’t answer, Anton sighed. Which made Dew flinch, which made Anton feel even more… guilty?

“…If it makes you feel any better, I’m trans too.” Anton had never come out to another person before, besides his mentor.

“Really?” Dew’s head snapped up, surprised. He had certainly never expected that to be his reaction.

“Yeah,” Anton sighed. “And it’s not healthy for you to wear that binder for that long, you should know that.”

“…Yeah I know.”

“Okay,” Anton rolled his eyes. “So why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“Because you’re a fucking weirdo scientist who kidnapped me.”

“Seriously—”

“I want my binder back- please.”

“No can do, Dew. Sorry, I had to get rid of all your old clothes.”

“What? Why?”

“Relax, I can get you a new one if you really need it, though, you know, top surgery would be more optimal.” Dew could not believe what he was hearing.

“Wait, you could get me top surgery?”

“Yeah, I performed it on myself years ago. It’s no big deal really, I have lots of serums that make healing go faster, and makes everything less painful too. I know what it’s like to be dysphoric—”

“I want it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes! Yes I want it.”

“…I guess I’m not in a huge rush to start the experiments just yet…” Dew stared in disbelief. Was this real? Was this a trick? “But Dew, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.” Oh. Just as fast as Dew’s weird excitement came, it was gone and replaced with dread.

“W-What?”

“You tried to escape earlier.” Shit. “I was going to punish you for it, but I changed my mind.”

“O-oh…” Dew gulped.

“That was your freebie, any other escape attempt, or attempt to hurt me, or attempt to communicate to anyone outside, you’ll regret it. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes,” Dew shuddered under his gaze. No way in hell was he giving up just like that, but he’d keep his thoughts of escape to himself now. He just had to wait until the right moment came.

. . .

Anton “scheduled” the surgery for tomorrow, whatever that meant. It’s not like he had a real job or other responsibilities. Dew wondered how this guy could even afford a place like this, with all this expensive equipment and science stuff. Were his experiments being funded by an outside source? Oh god, that was a terrifying thought, the government being behind all this. Dew would have to ask about that later.

Everything felt so surreal. It always had, but now it was different. He didn’t know what he expected from his captor anymore, not after today.

Anton had told him he wouldn’t “punish” him for trying to escape earlier, pretending to understand what he was going through and that he’d “been there.” But he also warned, in his usual cryptically threatening ways, that if Dew makes any more escape attempts, there will be consequences. And that he didn’t want to know what Anton would do to him.

He also remembered earlier, when Anton was showing Dew all of those terrible experiments and lab equipment, and hinting at all of the terrible things he would do to Dew once he starts experimenting on him. He remembered what he was really here for, and that terrified him. No matter how “kind” Anton sometimes seemed, for some reason, he was still a stranger who wanted to hurt Dew. He was still the guy who took him from his friends and home.

And now he wanted to give Dew something he’s always wanted, his whole life, that he never expected to get, at least anytime soon. He worked a dead-end minimum wage job; he couldn’t possibly afford anything like this, and now it was being handed over to him like it was no big deal— from his abductor, no less. It didn’t make any sense. Anton took Dew’s life away, but he still wanted to keep him happy and comfortable in his body? His body that was surly to be changed by these experiments anyway? What was the point of all this?

Maybe it was because Anton’s trans too, and it would be easier for him if Dew was comfortable in his body. It’d be easier for him if he gave something Dew had always wanted, so he’d have some leverage over him— some reason for Dew to be in his debt. Dew knew that his captor wanted him to trust him, to be compliant in being experimented on, for some demented reason. But Dew wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t ever going to give up his freedom for this guy, hell, he didn’t even know what the scientist’s goal was for him.

But now Anton had suggested that Dew get top surgery, and who was he to decline an offer like that? Dew knew it was probably a way to manipulate him, but he didn’t care. He’d always wanted this, and now, even if it was a sick and twisted way, he was happy he was getting it. He was still planning on not sticking around this place, escaping the next chance he got. But he also wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. Maybe if he kept learning more things about Anton, or vice versa, he’d keep going easy on him.

After all, he needed Anton to trust him, if he was ever going to get a chance to escape.

Dew didn’t know what time it was now, but it had to be pretty late. Anton told him he’d leave him alone for the rest of the day, that he should rest from the events from earlier. He tried that, but his mind was too active. He obviously couldn’t rest knowing what was going to happen to him tomorrow, so he was once again alone with his thoughts for a few hours until he heard the familiar footsteps coming towards the room.

Anton unlocked the door and walked in, holding a sandwich and some water. Dew hesitantly looked up from his spot on the bed, still terrified of the man.

“Here,” Anton said, holding the food out for Dew to take it, who chose to glare at the scientist instead. “Seriously? If I wanted you drugged, I’d just stick a needle in your arm. Just eat it.” He emphasized that by ripping a part off the sandwich and eating it himself, showing Dew that it was safe. He wondered how much longer Dew would be stubborn about not trusting his food.

As Dew ate, Anton kept staring. He did that a lot, Dew noticed. Dew tried to stare back, but the eye contact was way too uncomfortable sometimes.

“You really don’t talk much, do you?” Anton asked.

“I dunno.”

“When was your last T shot?” Shit. Dew wanted to avoid this today, but he supposed it was inevitable. He knew he needed to stay on schedule, but he really didn’t want this guy around him with needles, even for good reasons.

“…A week ago.” There was no point in lying about it though.

“Oh, so you need one today, then?” Anton asked. Dew nodded. “Alright.” The scientist left the room, locking the door behind him, and arrived shortly after with the stuff.

Dew, excited for something familiar in his routine since all this happened, was also terrified because that scientist was holding a needle again. The only other person he’d let give him his T shot was his doctor the first day, and then only he could. It was still hard for him, having to inject himself with a needle, but it was better than anyone else doing it.

Dew reached out to take the syringe, “I can do it,” he said.

“Dew, you’re shaking. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“W-well I don’t want you to do it!”

“Why not?” Was it really not obvious?

“I- It’s my T shot, I’ve done it like a million times before! I’ve been doing this for over three years now— just let me do it.”

Anton knew how scared his test subject was of needles, for reasons he didn’t understand. He supposed it would be easier to let Dew do it, considering he’d done it all those times before. But he still didn’t want Dew to get away with everything he wanted. His test subject would have to learn to do as Anton says.

“I’ll do it. You need to learn not to resist me. I won’t always go easy on you like today, you know.”

“Fine,” Dew said through gritted teeth. “Just get it over with.”

“We also need to work on your little fear of needles you have.” Anton said, prepping the needle and bringing it closer as Dew flinched. “It certainly makes things much harder than it needs to be.”

“I get it.” Dew sucked in a shaking breath as Anton rolled up his pants to expose his thigh. He was shaking in fear, he realized, Anton was right about that.

“Why are you so scared of needles anyway?” Anton asked as he plunged the needle into Dew’s leg.

“I- I dunno.” Dew squeezed his eyes shut, wishing this would go faster. Anton’s grip tightened on him as he leaned away, trying to stop the tears from flowing.

“Weird.” When Anton was done, he stood and started to leave. Dew let out a sigh of relief, finally alone.

“Asshole,” Dew whispered under his breath, thinking Anton couldn’t hear. That wasn’t the case, as the scientist suddenly whirled around and took Dew’s wrist in a grip, turning his test subject to face him.

“I let your escape attempt earlier slide because you’ve only been here only two days, and I… felt a bit of remorse. Gender dysphoria’s a bitch, so I’m trying to get rid of that obstacle for us. But know, I can do anything to you. You’re still just my test subject, know your place. If you try to escape, you will wish you didn’t.”

“J-Jeez okay, s-sorry!” Dew stuttered. Anton released his grip and exited the room.

“Get some rest, big day tomorrow.” The scientist said, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

. . .

Dew could hardly sleep that night, his mind racing with thoughts of the surgery. It was really happening, wasn’t it? A part of him knew he shouldn’t trust his captor, especially with something like this. What if he was lying? What if it was a trick to get Dew to agree to some terrible experimentation? Dew had to admit, it didn’t matter if he thought Anton was lying or not, because he was still going to accept that offer. There was a small chance that Anton was telling the truth, that he’d give Dew something he’d wanted all his life, and Dew wasn’t going to decline.

Besides, if Anton was that desperate to experiment on Dew, he could easily force his test subject to do anything without being able to stop him.

Dew realized it had to be Monday by now, and that his friends and coworkers were sure to notice he was gone. That gave him some hope, that maybe he’d be rescued soon. He just had to keep waiting it out, as he kept telling himself. He’d see Hayden, Layla and Sawyer again soon, and maybe tell them what he’d been waiting to for so long. He didn’t realize how much he missed them.

Dew didn’t get a lick of sleep that night. He was used to nights like that, he’d always been a sort of insomniac. He hoped Anton wouldn’t notice, but that was unlikely. It was morning before he knew it, and the clicks of the locks took Dew out of his racing mind.

Dew didn’t wait under the bed after Anton entered the room this time. He timidly crawled out before Anton said anything, too full of energy to stay still any longer.

“Big day, Dew.” Anton said with a big, unsettling grin on his face. “You excited?” Dew gulped. What was he thinking, trusting this maniac like this against his better judgment?

“Y-yeah,” Dew said. “I guess.” Anton’s eyes narrowed, looking his test subject up and down.

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Um, n-not really?”

“Huh. I’ll deal with that later. C’mon, let’s go then.”

“W-wait, I wanted to ask something, i-if that’s okay.” Dew fidgeted nervously with the hem of his sweater, and when Anton made a ‘go on’ gesture, he continued. He made sure to choose his words slowly and carefully. “I know I… I remember what you said yesterday. But um- I uh, I’m wandering if I can make a phone call? To- to tell my friends I’m okay… I d-don’t want them to worry about me. I miss them.”

That was at least half of the truth. Anton looked in a much better mood than yesterday, so maybe he’d recognize Dew’s sorrow and let him say goodbye to his friends, hopefully not realizing that Dew’s real plan was to somehow tell them he was in trouble and get someone to track the phone call.

“Dew,” it turned out that Anton had seen right through Dew’s half-assed plan, suddenly looking serious with his cold gaze locked onto his test subject. “Forget about them. Your home is here now, you’re not leaving. If I have to repeat this one more time, you’ll regret it. Understand?” Dew looked away, shuffling on his feet and trying to think of anything to say to convince his captor to go easy on him.

The silence seemed to anger Anton more, grabbing Dew’s chin in his hands, tilting his head up to look at him. It was intense, every time Dew made eye contact with the scientist, it was intense. Something about him, something about his eyes- it didn’t feel human. Dew didn’t know how to describe this feeling, but it terrified him. He felt like prey cornered by a predator, as if it was playing with its food. He remembered Anton asked him a question, and quickly nodded his head before he could scare him further.

“Say it. Say it and mean it.” When Dew hesitated, Anton moved his hand to rest on his test subject’s throat, squeezing lightly. It didn’t hurt, but the threat was known.

“I-I won’t leave,” Dew forced out, his mind screaming at him not to let himself believe it. “I won’t try to escape or- or contact anyone for help. Or ask to contact my f-friends, or anything like that.” When Anton still looked at him expectantly, Dew knew what he had to say next, though he was never going to mean it. “I-I’m your test subject now. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Good,” Anton released his grip and turned away towards the door, seemingly going back to normal as if none of that terrifying encounter had just happened. “Let’s go already.”

Dew followed Anton out the door, after he took the chain off his ankle and tied rope around his wrists and ankles this time, so he wouldn’t run. Dew was too sleep deprived and strangely excited to care about that terrifying lack of mobility out there, causing him no way to escape.

Dew once again reminded himself this was probably a manipulation tactic, and the odds were more than likely Anton was just going to preform some fucked up experiment on him instead. He remained cautious, glancing to the exit, reminding himself of yesterday. Reminding himself the same plan wouldn’t work, he’d have to think of something different another day, when he got a different chance.

They arrived at that operating table, and Anton stood to the side, gesturing Dew to lay down, to which he timidly did.

“So, um, h-how are you gonna do this?” Dew asked nervously as Anton walked around the table, picking up a few restraints. “It- it won’t be painful or anything, right?”

“You won’t feel a thing,” Anton said, smiling as he started restraining Dew to the table. He strapped his arms and legs down, making it impossible for his test subject to move. Once Dew realized what was happening, his struggles came too late, the terror of his situation finally catching up to him.

“W-What’s with the restraints?” Dew asked, voice shaking. He almost didn’t want to know the answer.

“It helps me relax,” Anton said nonchalantly, moving out of Dew’s line of sight.

“Okay, that makes absolutely zero sense, but whatever.” Dew tried to calm his nerves, but it felt impossible when all he could think about was this all being a trick to get him to agree to being directed like some alien’s research specimen.

“Calm down, I won’t hurt you, you know.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Dew continued struggling against his better judgment, hating being restrained like this. “Th-This isn’t a trick, right?”

“Dew, if I wanted to experiment on you, I’d just do it. It wouldn’t matter if you agree to it or not, because you’re mine. But no, this isn’t a trick. I’m not like that. You want top surgery, right?”

“Yeah!—”

“Great, then stay still.” Anton brought another dreaded syringe in Dew’s line of sight, and he held his breath in anticipation. Of course he knew this was coming, and he honestly sighed with relief knowing he’d be knocked out soon. He realized Anton could easily just operate on Dew while he was fully awake and conscious, feeling every cut, incision, and pain that came with it.

Dew closed his eyes as he felt the injection, and slowly started drifting away. The last thing he heard before succumbing to the anesthetic was a soft, “Goodnight, Dewey,” and then he was out.

. . .

Dew woke up a few seconds (hours) later, back in the room he’d been stuck in, lying snugly in bed and covered in the softest of blankets. His mind was groggy, and he could barely sense someone standing over him. There was pain, but it was dull, hardly noticeable. He honestly felt comfy there, relaxed and warm and without that blinding fluorescent light that would always shine in his eyes.

Right.

Dew slowly opened his eyes and tried to move into a sitting position, but found his body far too weak, and also felt a strange weight off his chest. That made sense. He felt a firm hand moving to hold him down to the bed, telling him he needed to rest. That was probably a good idea.

When Dew’s mind cleared enough to remember what was going on, he almost couldn’t believe it. His chest was flat, they were gone. He had just gotten something he’d always wanted.

Then why was he filled with so much dread?

Dew should be happy. He should be relieved. No more gender dysphoria. No more hiding in oversized hoodies or being forced to wear a binder all day. He was finally in a body that felt like his, he wasn’t trapped anymore. But yet he was, in a completely different way.

He should be with his friends right now, laughing and smiling and celebrating. Hayden would be holding his hand with his pet ball python on his shoulder, cheering him up and lightening the mood as he always would. Layla would be lovingly info-dumping about a special interest of hers, as usual, but in a way that made him feel loved as well, with her cat purring in his lap. Sawyer… He’d definitely be there too, cracking jokes and playing video games in the corner, too awkward for his own good, but that’s what Dew loved about him.

But that wasn’t what was happening. Dew was all alone and afraid in a scary place with the man who kidnapped him. He wasn’t with his friends, he wasn’t celebrating or eating cake or hugging his friends or listening to music. He was alone.

His friends must’ve been worried sick. Dew wondered if anyone was looking for him. He didn’t know what to feel, he’d always wanted this but… not like this. None of it was right, he didn’t belong here and he had to leave. He had to tell everyone the good news, he had to tell them that he—

Anton was in the room, and Dew almost felt like he could hear his spiral. He forced himself to calm down and stop thinking about home, it was too painful right now. He needed something real, something tangible to latch onto, otherwise he’d deteriorate.

“I’m th-thirsty,” Dew rasped. That was a good start. Focus on anything else.

Anton handed him a glass of water that must’ve been on the nightstand, and Dew gulped it down eagerly, ignoring the sudden sleepiness he felt, and the way his eyelids felt far too heavy to keep open all of a sudden.

. . .

The next week was spent with Dew resting in bed, relying on his captor for everything, and it felt humiliating. He absolutely hated it.

The scientist told him that the healing process would go much faster than usual, because of what could only be described as some sort of healing potion he had concocted. Dew didn’t care for science, and he certainly had no interest in listening to Anton explain it, much less trying to understand what he was explaining.

But he was right, the recovery was quick. Though, Dew was filled with drugs and painkillers and even sedatives, after he resisted succumbing to the sleepy effects of the healing concoction and falling asleep.

What was worse, was that when Dew was awake, he could hardly move anyway. The first few days of recovery was spent relying on Anton for everything. Being hand fed food, water, having to be carried to the bathroom, he hated being so dependent on the guy holding him captive.

It was a few days after the surgery, when Anton came into Dew’s room to feed him. Dew hated to admit it, but he was starting to get lonely by himself, and started to look forward to when Anton would come to see him. It wasn’t like he had anyone to talk to or anything to do besides stare at the ceiling and count the seconds.

“You hungry?” Anton asked, a bowl of chicken noodle soup in hand.

“Yeah,” Dew said, getting used to this new routine. He was excited for when he’d finally be recovered enough to do, well, anything for himself again. And sleep under the bed, away from the open space, bright lights, and the scientist.

Anton sat at the edge of the bed and helped Dew sit up, taking a spoonful of the soup and raising it to Dew’s mouth. He hated this, it was excruciatingly hard not to curse his captor out whenever he fed him like this, but he realized it only helped gain Anton’s trust. Which of course, he needed.

Dew sighed and moved his mouth to the spoon, eating the contents of it. He felt like a doll Anton was playing with, or some animal he was training to be nice and docile, not the wild animal yearning for freedom that it was.

Dew learned to just let Anton do what he wanted, and it was easier to just get it over with than let it ride out forever. Arguing with the scientist never worked, so what was the point? When Dew was done eating, instead of Anton getting up to leave, he began to speak.

“It’s been a few days, you probably need a bath, huh?” Hell the fuck no.

And then Dew was being carried to the bathroom, helped out of his clothes, and gently set in the bathtub. He hated absolutely everything about this. The scientist seemed to not notice- or care- about Dew flinching as he raised his hands to Dew’s head.

“Relax, Dew,” Anton said gently, carding his hands slowly through Dew’s fluffy hair as he washed it thoroughly. Dew hated that he let himself lean into the touch (he blamed that on the drugs), the only nice touch he had gotten since he’d been thrown into this place.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He was almost fully submerged under the water, his body not visible under the bubbles. Dew closed his eyes, imagining himself anywhere else, with anyone else doing this to him. He felt a warm rag slowly wiping away the grime on his face, wincing as he let it happen. He couldn’t help but find it relaxing when Anton poured warm water over his head, rinsing away the shampoo from his hair.

And then it was time for Anton to check how his body was healing, which was fine with Dew because he didn’t really feel any gender dysphoria anymore. After the bath, Anton helped Dew stand and gently wrapped a towel around his body, and used another towel to dry his hair off.

It all felt so surreal, once again. Why was his captor being so nice to him? Why did he care so much about how Dew felt about any of this, about his mental well being? Was he trying to manipulate Dew into wanting to stay here? Because it was… Not working.

Sure, it was nice. And Dew didn’t remember the last time he’d been treated like this, without having to worry about responsibilities like work or chores. But he was still being held against his will. And he could not let himself forget about his status here, as a test subject. As the week went on, and that healing stuff did its magic, Dew was only filled with more dread for the future. He could tell that Anton was getting antsy too, excited to finally be able to start experimenting on his little lab rat.

Besides eating, using the toilet, and the few baths he was given, Dew spent most of his recovery from the surgery unconscious. He argued against it, but Anton told him it meant the healing potion— what Dew chose to call it— was doing its job.

Dew guessed it could be worse. He was kinda happy he was unconscious for most of his recovery, in a strange way. Dew hated being in pain, and sleeping it away basically meant it was never there to begin with. He didn’t like the fact that he was losing count of the days though, and was more than frustrated that Anton refused to give Dew a calendar.

It was about a week and a half since the surgery, and Dew was already fully back to normal. He reminded himself that he was supposed to be scared of Anton, and started sleeping under his bed again to avoid the guy. Whatever terrible experiments the scientist was planning would surely start soon, and Dew was more than terrified. He just hoped they wouldn’t be too painful, and that he’d get out of here soon. Maybe this whole experience would just end up being free top surgery and a small vacation from work, and then he’d get rescued and could forget any of this ever happened. That would be nice.

One more thing lingered in the test subject’s mind. He didn’t understand why Anton was so adamant on taking his clothes and belongings away from him. It wasn’t like he was too picky about what Dew wore now anyway, just a few different sweaters and sweatpants when he wasn’t bedridden in recovery. But there had to be a reason, right?

Dew hummed some of his favorite songs to himself, missing his music. Despite everything, he hated being alone. He couldn’t stop thinking about his friends now, wishing he had spent more time with them the week before he was taken. He just wanted to go home.

—

this chapter was not very whumpy but like, necessary for the story and stuff. now that the boring stuff is out of the way, the test subject can actually start being experimented on soon :) fun stuff.

taglist: @whumpinthepot @shywhumpauthor @whump-me-all-night-long @whump321 @fuckcapitalismasshole @sorry-i-spaced @theelvishcowgirl

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[whumblr]

Journey

Led to the car by two men and with two guns pointed at them, Whumpee didn’t even think about resisting. They were too numb. The fear inside them seared through them like ice, shattering in their stomach and reaching out to their limbs, slowing them down, up to their brain stilling their thoughts.

The only thing they could think about was:

It’s all going to happen again.

A soft poke in their side with the nuzzle of the gun encouraged them to get in. They looked over the roof of the car, past Whumper who was expectantly looking at them to get in. They ignored him, and looked at their friends, at Caretaker, who all looked as numb and dumbstruck as they felt.

They flashed a little smile. Trying to encourage not just their friends, but themself as well; it was going to be alright. Right? Right guys?

Their smile faltered as soon as the car door slammed shut behind them.

And to their horror, Whumper joined them in the backseat.

“That was a good farewell,” – a goodbye, Whumpee told themself – “No screaming, no abundant tears,” he said. He cast a side glance at Whumpee, who just looked the other way, out the window. “No deaths. You did well not to put up a fight. Probably saved them all.”

Whumpee took a deep breath as the car drove past their friends. They were shouting something now, Caretaker raging and pointing at them. They couldn’t hear. It didn’t matter. They all couldn’t save them last time. They couldn’t save them now. Whumpee had already accepted it. They’d made their choice. It was okay.

“You’re upset.”

They didn’t realise their cheeks were wet with tears until those words.

“Come, dear, come here.” Whumper held out an arm, inviting them in.

“No…” But the hand slithered over their shoulder to grasp around their neck. He slowly bend them towards him, lying down over the backseat. “No, no, don’t, I don’t—no!” Their initial struggle quickly died out as a he squeezed their neck in warning. Still muttering their objections, they followed the hand meekly until they lay down in his lap. Their shoulder resting against his abdomen, head on his legs. They turned away, not wanting to look up at him, and just stared at the back of the driver’s seat.

“Why?” they just asked after a few moments of silence, where he stroked the nape of their neck, brushed away the few tears that hadn't seeped into his pantleg.

“I think you know why.” He gently took hold of their chin and tilted them to the side so they could look up at him. Cold eyes stared into theirs. “Because last time, we weren’t finished yet.”

Whumpee suppressed a sob. They wanted to look away, hide their fear, but the grip on their chin turned bruising.

“If we had...” Whumper continued, “you wouldn't have hesitated... back there. You would have obeyed. You would have fallen to your knees without thought. Right in front of your friends.”

“You will never get me at that point.”

“I think I can, darling. And I think you know it too. I know what it is you fear. It’s not the journey. God knows you’ve already been through it all. And you took it. Took it all. No, it is not the journey. You’ve already been down that road. What you fear, is who you will become at the end.”

A broken mess. A shadow of their old self who will obey without thought. Whumpee turned away again, pondering his words. The journey… they mentally scoffed at that. What a gentle way to say months of torture, punishment, beatings… They did fear that pain. Everything that was about to happen again, everything they thought they’d escaped.

But yes, they also feared what it would do to them. Would they eventually lose their defiance? Would they slowly and gradually give up, trading pieces of their pride to avoid the pain, until they realised at the end, they didn’t have anything left to trade? Or would they be able to hold on? Grasping at that last bit that made them them.

Whumper felt them shudder. “It’s up to you how long this journey will take. Could be short... after all, you learned a lot from last time. I doubt we will have to go through the full spiel again.”

Fingers found their chin again.

“What I do need to know, before we get back,” Whumper left a short silence, making sure he had their attention. “How long do you think this journey will be. You don’t need to answer now,” he crooned, and his fingers retreated. “You’ve got the whole ride to think about it.”

And so he let them. For the rest of the ride they mostly sat in silence. Every now and then, Whumpee tensed up in his lap but relaxed again moments after. No doubt trying to make a decision while troubled by old memories resurfacing, reminding them of what lay in store, guiding their thought process. Whumper couldn't help a smile every time he felt a hitch of breath, feeling them tense in his lap, wondering which lovely memories were brought up.

He didn’t probe them, just enjoyed having them close again, stroking through their hair, thumb swirling over their shoulder.

“Why are you being so sweet?" Whumpee murmured. Not that the gentle touches were welcome.

“Why, because I missed you. I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” He looked down at the figure in his lap, who still stubbornly refused to look up. “Don’t get used to it. I think it’ll only last while we’re in this car.”

“And you’ll go back to the regular old Whumper.”

He smiled at that. “The one you know so well.”

Smooth highways turned to winding off-road paths, grit crunching under the tyres, making them bump and shift in his lap. By now, they no longer fought it.

Deep in the forest, the car drove through entrance gates and came to a halt on a white grit driveway, surrounded by grass lawns.

“Come, dear.” He gently lifted their head from his lap and scooted out of the car.

Whumpee followed awkwardly, their limbs all stiff. Their stomach sank as they looked up at the mansion, eyes drawn to the window on the 2nd floor of the west wing.

“Welcome home,” a whisper brushed in their ear as Whumper stood next to them.

The words, being back here and seeing their prison, brought back everything at once. Panic surged through them, fear gripped them tight, all telling them to run. They cast a wild glance over their shoulder, but the entrance gates were already flanked by two men with automatic guns. Not an option. The walls of the mansion kept them in, reminded them of the futility of it all. And as quickly as it came, the panic receded. A desperate but calm resignation washed over them and they followed their captor to the house.

On the front steps Whumper turned and stopped them half-way, looking down on them.

“Before we go in, your answer.”

Whumpee nodded and after a beat simply took the last few steps and pushed past him so they stood on the same step as him, the landing in the middle, but they still had to glare up to meet his eyes. Equal footing, but not quite.

“I think it’s going to be a long journey.”

-

Tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @painsandconfusion

[violettduchess]

Hello, I hope you're having a great day! May I request a HC on how the Vamp suitors would react to MC crying and shaking from a nightmare? 👀 Comte, Vlad, Leonardo and Arthur please!

A/N: Here you go @lusianarendraws 💜

Word Count: 2028

No matter how fast you run, it's right behind you. Something too fast, too dark. Something with curved claws that scrape stone like nails on a chalkboard and mephitic breath scorching your neck. Your feet fly over a street wet with something too thick to be rainwater. Iron stings your nostrils as you suck in air, forcing yourself to keep going. You turn a corner, boots slipping on the slick cobblestones, palms hitting the ground hard to keep you upright. They come up wet and dark. Just another corner, you tell yourself. Just another bend. Your heartbeat pulses in your head, a wild drumbeat that spurs you onwards. There, up ahead. A narrow alley. A place to hide. You summon a burst of energy and propel yourself forward, into the narrow darkness.

And straight into the fetid, gaping maw of the beast.

Comte

 Your sobs wake him almost immediately. There is no remaining sleepiness, no smattering of dreams across his mind. He is alert, present and entirely focused on you in an instant.

He gathers you into the fortress of his arms, murmuring softly in mixed languages that everything is ok. You are safe in your bed. In his arms. You are safe. You are safe. He is here.

His words slowly unhook the nightmare's claws from your mind and you find yourself regaining control. Your breathing slows, regulates. Your heartbeat becomes less panicked. Comte runs his hand over your damp cheeks, then presses a kiss to each one. He waits until you are breathing normally, until your eyes are dry before he speaks again.

"I would like to bring you some tea, chérie. Will you be ok?" His voice is gentle. He strokes the line of your cheekbone, waiting to hear from you.

You look at him, wanting to be brave but your eyes begin watering and he knows any word that isn't "no" is a lie. He hugs you close once more, chastising himself for even considering leaving you.

"Come then, mon amour. We shall make it together." Sliding out of bed, he kneels, lighting the chamberstick he keeps on his nightstand, its small orange light a sudden warm comfort in the shadows. He lifts it and his face is suddenly something divine, the only bright spot in the darkness and you feel your heart lighten in turn, the chains of the nightmare rattling as they break. He holds out his hand and you take it, a lifeline of love and comfort, and together you make your way through the night's shadows to the kitchen.

Vlad

You are pulled from the depths of your nightmare by a voice. It is gentle yet strong, insistent as it raises you out from the darkness and into the soft candlelight of Vlad's bedroom. 

Your dream is still clinging to you like black rainwater, evident in the beating of your heart and the rapid laboring of your lungs. But your sobs are soft, muffled, because you are being cradled against Vlad's chest. Your damp hair is being stroked by his hand.

He holds you to his chest, presses you against his heart, as if its steady rhythm might somehow transfer over to you, like osmosis. In a way, it does. His touch feels like the comfort of warm water, washing over you, washing away the darkness of your nightmare. You feel your body slowly return to itself like a frightened colt soothed by the hands of a loving caretaker. 

When you tilt your head up to look at him, you see a mix of concern and empathy in those rose-colored eyes of his. He asks if you want to talk about it, the dream that disturbed his darling. You shake your head, closing your eyes and curling tighter into the stronghold of his arms.

He kisses your hair, smoothing it down, moving it away from your face with gentle fingers. It feels cold to his touch. “Do you think a warm bath would help, beloved?” Even as he says it, you can already feel the soothing steam wrapping itself around you and smell the rose oil he always adds just for you. Heaven is what it sounds like.

You lean away for a moment, nodding as you lift your hands to his shoulders, fingers curling into the soft linen of his shirt. “It sounds perfect. Especially if you join me.”

His smile chases away the last dregs of cold from your heart. He cups your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks tenderly. “Of course, my love. If that is what you wish.”

You don’t need words to confirm. You simply lean forward and press a soft kiss to his cheek before sliding out of bed. Turning, you hold out your hand and he takes it, allowing you to lead him out of the velvet darkness of the bedroom.

Arthur

“C’mon darling, wake up. Wake up, luv.” A voice reaches through the fog of your nightmare, a small light that grows bigger as the voice gets louder, more insistent. It repeats your name, gently but firmly. You need to wake up, it says. It’s ok. The light grows brighter as your eyes flutter open, leaving the darkness in the recesses of your mind.

You wake to find yourself in bed, Arthur’s concerned blue eyes searching your face. He has your hands in his, fingers roaming your skin, and he is speaking, words of reassurance that continue to scatter the dark, clingy fog. “There’s my girl. There we are. Hello darling.” He brushes back your hair, fingers pressed firmly against the inside of your wrist as he offers you a smile. It takes you a moment to realize he has been keeping track of your pulse.

“Arthur?” A shudder runs through you as you remember those last moments. Satisfied that you are physically alright, he takes both your hands in his and holds them tightly, his summer sky gaze holding yours, grounding you. 

“Right here, darling. You’re alright.” You breathe out slowly, swallowing as you nod. A shaky, fragile laugh escapes your lips as you pull one hand free, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Wow. I’m sorry. That….that was….a pretty awful dream.” 

He twists his bare torso, reaching for the handkerchief folded on his nightstand and then offers it to you. Gratefully you wipe your eyes, blow your nose. You notice the way the light plays off his glossy hair, the muscular lines of his upper body. When did he light the candles? Before he woke you? Did he know you would appreciate the light?

“Care to tell me about it?” His voice is warm with compassion. He is a man who understands the power of nightmares. You look into those eyes again and know that you are safe. You can face it again with him beside you. You nod.

He opens his arms and you fall into them with a sigh. It feels like falling into a soft, freshly-made bed. Safe. Secure. You snuggle up against him and begin describing the dream. He listens, his fingers tracing small, abstract patterns on the arm you have slung over his abdomen. You finally reach the end, the part where you entered the alley and grimace as you explain how the beast was there waiting.

Arthur’s fingers pause as he considers everything you have described. “But what if”, he murmurs thoughtfully, “……in that moment of peril, right when you believed all to be lost….your hands began to glow, a brilliant white like the light of a harvest moon?”

You glance up at his face from the pillow of his chest. He’s got that look in his eye, the one you have seen so many times concentrated on a page when you bring him a cup of coffee or in the evenings with you curled up on his lap as he talks through a scene. He’s writing….a new ending to your dream. 

A surge of love warms you from head to toe and you smile, turning your head to place a tender kiss above his heart. “Go on. Please.” You can feel his satisfaction as he shifts you closer, dropping a kiss to your temple before he speaks. “Well then, this white light…..”

Leonardo

You sit straight up in bed, gasping as you hold a hand to your racing heart. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. You don’t like Leonardo to leave any candles lit because of the fire hazard. One swish of Lumière’s tail and one of the endless books or parchments or canvases laying around could catch the flame and grow it into something disastrous. Luckily, his room is positioned well enough to catch the moon’s silvery light and tonight it is enough to hold total darkness at bay.

Breathing is difficult. Your lungs feel like they can’t expand enough and your chest burns with the need for air. This adds to the currents of anxiety still running through your veins. You close your eyes, trying to block out the memory of that mouth, those horrible, glistening teeth, the inevitable crunch of your bones as it makes a meal of you.

“Meow!” Lumière has stirred from his spot at the far end of the bed and picked his way across the covers to where you are. He knocks his head against your stomach, demanding your touch. Automatically you begin petting him, his soft, midnight fur soothing under your palms. “Meow!”

“Shhh,” you whisper, voice still rough, throat still tight. But he does not shh. He continues meowing. Loudly. Emphatically. And then the man laying next to you stirs, pushing himself up, one hand sleepily rubbing at his golden eyes. “Cosa sta succedendo?” What’s going on?

Lumière leaps from your lap to his, batting at his arm before stepping back to you. Now fully awake, his eyes adjusted to the wan lighting, he takes one long look at you and concern overtakes his handsome face. “Tesoro, what’s wrong?”

Your lower lip starts to tremble and Lumière leaps out of the way as you tip over and into Leonardo’s arms. His work now done, the feline leaps from the bed and disappears under the desk where he can continue sleeping on his favorite pile of books, undisturbed.

Leonardo clasps you to him, murmuring for you to tell him what happened, his cheek pressed against the top of your head as you recount the nightmare. His embrace tightens as he hears the tremor of fear in your voice and apologies fall from his lips like teardrops. He should have woken up on his own. He should have been there. He is so sorry, cara mia. So sorry.

You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face in one hand. He catches it and turns, placing a kiss into your palm. “It’s ok. It’s not your fault. I would have woken you.” The “Tsk” sound he makes at this reveals how well he knows you. You would not have woken him because you would have wanted to be brave and handle it without bothering him.

He presses rapid-fire kisses to your cheeks and your forehead as he whispers that he is here for you, always. You are not a burden and you do not have to deal with these things alone, ya? Let him be there for you. Please. Please–

You cut off his urgent whispers by capturing his mouth with yours, arms curling around his neck. His words have unlocked a need inside you to push away the nightmare. More than push away. To burn it out of your memory, reduce it to nothing but ash. 

You kiss him, a kiss born of heat and need, an electrical fire sparked by his soft words, now spreading out of control. Leonardo may be a logical man, but he is also a man of passion. He knows this is what you need, what you need from him, and he faces the flames of your desire, a man armed not with water but ethanol, ready to help you blaze a new memory into the night.

Tagging 🌜: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @ariamichel @kpop-and-otome

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Saved By A Killer #3: Three Days

Masterlist

Content: Recovery, separation anxiety, abandonment issues, morally dubious caretaker, suicidal ideations, [mentioned] cannibalism, [mentioned] vivisections, [mentioned] torture, [implied] lab whump, [implied] multiple whumpers.

Tags make it sound really bad, nothing happens. Eli just has a meltdown.

-

Eli knew it was inevitable. At some point, Cohen would have to accept another job and leave him to his own devices until he returned. He just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Only a week had passed and the man was already preparing to leave for several days. It was daunting and he hated it.

As Cohen cleaned his weapons and got himself ready, Eli chose to hide beneath the thick covers of his new roommate’s bed and sulk the entire time, much to Cohen’s amusement. 

“Somethin’ wrong?” he finally asked after Eli’s third dramatic sigh. Setting his knife down in his lap, he adjusted his position to glance behind him, one eyebrow raised inquisitively. “Hm?”

“I don’t want you to go.” 

It surprised him to see Cohen’s gaze soften a little. He tentatively peered up at him from behind the safety of the blanket, doing his best to hide the fear prodding at him each time he thought about being alone. At least he knew he was safe when Cohen was around, as much as he hated admitting that he was already becoming dependent on someone for safety. Who knew what would go wrong while he was gone? He very quickly decided the worst case scenario would be Lucas’ friends coming after him. They’d no doubt discovered Lucas’ corpse by now, and the thought of what they would do if they ever found where Eli was hiding sent a prominent shiver up his spine. 

“What are you scared of?” Cohen interrupted his thoughts, a slight tilt to his head as he leaned back against his hand. It wasn’t like him to look this… approachable. Eli had gotten so used to the gruff exterior and the lack of warmth within his presence that it was a little hard to believe there was more to him.

He huffed quietly, pulling the blanket further over his shoulders and staring bitterly at the sheets beneath him. “All of it. You refuse to put me out of my misery and then leave for several days while the dozens of people close to Lucas are still out there, no doubt looking for me. I don’t feel fucking safe. What if they find me while you’re gone? Do you know the shit I had to go through before you found me? The dozens of experiments they performed on my body, the- the “surgeries” they gave me, and the amount of times they had me eat parts of my body? Mind you, the cannibalism was light compared to some of the alternatives!” 

Suddenly, it was getting hot and harder to breathe under the suffocating weight of the blanket. With a small noise, he angrily kicked it away, trembling hands shoved into the pockets of his new hoodie as he stared directly into Cohen’s wide eyes. It really was the first night all over again. He just wanted someone to understand. He wanted someone to acknowledge the pain and the terror he was feeling. Wanted someone to tell him that it was okay to feel the way he was feeling instead of looking at him like he was crazy. 

He sucked in a sharp breath of air, toes curling into themselves as his memories began to become more vivid. It felt as though he was reliving them all over again. The countless nights he spent on those cold wooden floorboards, the constant fear that threatened to suffocate him every time he heard Lucas’ footsteps getting closer - it was all too much. 

“I don’t want to go through that again,” he sobbed quietly through gritted teeth, the realisation that he had begun to cry only just settling in as the tears blurred his vision. “‘n’ at least I know I’m safe while you’re around. Once you go, I’m vulnerable. Anything could happen. I don’t fucking know how to fight. I don’t have any weapons or- or experience, like you. I am completely defenseless.” 

The silence that settled between them as soon as Eli stopped talking was awkward, to say the least. It was obvious that both of them felt it. Cohen had taken to fiddling with his knife again, though he hadn’t turned away yet. He seemed deep in thought and angry. Eli struggled to tell if it was towards him or something else. 

The palms of his hands were sweaty when he reached up to wipe at his eyes. Everything was too warm and uncomfortable and the space between his reality and his past seemed as though it was beginning to merge within his head. 

It took a moment for Eli to realise that Cohen had stood up and was leaving. He hadn’t said anything since before Eli’s outburst, and it only further confirmed the idea that he was upset with him. 

“Wait,” he whispered in between whimpers, more tears pricking in the corners of his eyes when Cohen stopped to look at him from the direction of his walk-in closet. “Where are you going? I’m- I’m sorry. Please don’t go.” 

“Not goin’ anywhere. Just gimme a second.” 

Then the man disappeared into the closet. Eli brought his knees to his chest and pressed his back up against the headboard as he listened to the faint rummaging coming from inside, and when Cohen finally emerged once more, he was holding a knife made of silver. It looked ten times more fancy than any of the tools Lucas ever owned. He supposed it easily could have been, too. Cohen took great pride in his large collection of weapons. 

“Here,” he said simply, holding the knife out towards him by its blade. Despite his glaringly obvious confusion, Eli accepted the gift, wrapping his trembling fingers around the handle while the other hand reached up to wipe at his eyes for the dozenth time. “Keep that on you, yeah? If someone attacks you, aim it and strike without hesitation. I don’t care if they never see anything again. I don’t care if they end up paralysed. Hell, I don’t care if they die. If someone is out to hurt you, they deserve whatever the fuck they get.” 

Eli had never been given anything to use for self-defense before. Things were purposely taken away from him just so he didn’t have anything. For once, someone was giving him the chance to feel less powerless. 

“Mine?” he quietly clarified, slowly bringing the object close to his chest to stop Cohen from possibly taking it away from him again. “You mean it?” 

Cohen gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Yours. Just…” He let out a sigh. “Consider saying goodbye first, if… if you do decide that this world isn’t where you want to be. Do we have a deal?” 

For a moment, all Eli could do was stare directly at the hand Cohen was holding out to him, both of his own still gripping tightly onto the knife. He… finally had a choice? He got to choose what happened to him? It felt like a fucking miracle. 

He gave a teary smile, releasing the knife with one hand to shake Cohen’s outstretched one. It was a warm and comforting grip in contrast to Lucas’ painful one. One that made him consider the possibility of touch perhaps not being as bad as he thought. He did miss it. He missed it a lot.

“I think I can make the two months,” he whispered as he stared rather blankly at their grasping hands. “Of course, if you think you could stand me for that long. I… I know I’m erratic and emotional and on the verge of being completely broken as a human being.” 

He nearly jumped at the sound of Cohen’s sudden laugh. He didn’t do that often. It was a pleasant enough sound, once he got over the initial scare it gave him. He even found himself smiling along with him after a few moments.

“You’re not so bad,” he shook his head as he sat back down. Eli brought his knees closer again to allow him some more room, head resting against his arm. “‘sides, it sounds like you’ve been ignored for quite a long time. I can’t blame you for just wanting someone to understand.” 

“Yeah.” He squeezed his eyes shut, doing his best to ignore the growing lump in his throat as he stroked the wooden handle of his new knife with his thumb. It was surprisingly calming; the soft texture turning out to be rather comforting to focus on. “It sucks.”

When he turned to look at Cohen, the man seemed to be considering something; eyes scanning his own bedroom as if he was looking at it for the first time and his lips slightly puckered, something he often seemed to do when he was thinking. 

Eventually, he took a deep breath and placed his own weapon down again, along with the cloth he was using to clean it. “If it would help…” he began to talk slowly, as if still trying to figure out if it was something he wanted to say. “My bedroom has locks on the door and the windows. I could change the sheets and the bedding before I leave and let you use it for the several days that I’m gone. Would that be of any interest to you?” 

Eli frowned. “But… but you said your room was off limits when you’re not around?” 

“I did,” Cohen shrugged. “But I also understand what it’s like to not feel safe in your own home. Why do you think I’ve got so many locks in my room? They weren’t there originally. I had them manually put in a few months after I bought the place ‘cause I couldn’t sleep. That’s also why everything else, apart from the front door, has no lock.” 

He had been wondering about that. The fact that Cohen also felt unsafe brought him an odd sense of comfort and anxiety at the same time. What did he have to be scared of? Was it something that applied to him, too? Was the unsafe feeling he’d been experiencing more justified than he thought? 

Eli shrunk into himself a little, swallowing thickly. “You’d really be okay with havin’ me in your room?” 

“Sure.” He sounded more confident this time, and it relieved Eli to know that perhaps he wasn’t going to go back on his offer, after all. “‘s long as you don’t go sniffing about where you’re not supposed to. I don’t care where you look when it’s in communal areas, but this is my private space. closet and all of the cupboards are off limits. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Eli nodded. 

At first, the title he’d used hadn’t really occurred to him. It was natural at this point - at least, more so than calling people by their first name. However, he did notice the frown that had settled on Cohen’s face and the shift in demeanor, presumably a way to make him seem less gruff and closed off. It surprised Eli that he was self-aware enough to even realise what had caused it, let alone making a change in his behaviour.  

His face was becoming hotter and hotter with every second spent in silence. Eventually, he shuffled towards the edge of the bed and stood up, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie further over his hands to make himself feel and appear smaller than he was. 

“I will let you get back to packing. Let me know when you’re leaving.” I want to say goodbye one last time. “Wanna make sure you leave before I decorate your bed with my blankets and pillows.” 

Cohen snorted and rolled his eyes, already picking up his knife once more. “Sure thing, little snoop. See you in a bit.” 

-

About an hour later, the man was just about ready to go. He had his keys in one hand and a small bag of what he assumed was weapons and equipment in the other, and Eli couldn’t help but smile as he watched him struggle to slip on his boots. He was somehow one of both the coolest and dorkiest people he’d ever met. 

“‘m headin’ off now. Don’t answer the door for anyone and keep it locked, especially if you decide to leave. You have my spare key, yeah?” 

Eli rolled his eyes. “Yes. Go.” 

“Good, and are you sure you’re going to be okay while I’m gone?” 

No. I’m fucking terrified. I want you to stay. 

“Yes!” he insisted, practically swatting the man out the door before he could say another word. If you stay for another minute, I might not have the strength to let you go. “I will be here when you get back. Go!” 

Cohen laughed, already stepping off the porch with his bag slung over his shoulders. This time he didn’t look back as he tossed everything into the car and got in himself, and not long after the car’s engine came to life. 

He was grateful, in a way, that he hadn’t looked back at him. There would have been nothing more embarrassing than letting the smug bastard see him cry all over again as he pressed his face up against the window facing the driveway. 

Three days, he thought to himself as he anxiously chewed on his bottom lip. It’s just three days and he’ll be back.

-

@kiss1t0ffm3 @latenightcupsofcoffee @make-it-gay-please @nyooom @pigeonwhumps @topsheepstudent @whumped4whumplover @whumpsday @whumpshaped

[ltbarnes]

You’re Gonna Go Far

Summary: You’ve been acting different for weeks now and Steve is not having that at all. His little sister is his world, and sitting crying in your room without telling him why? Unacceptable.

Pairing: older brother!Steve Rogers x sibling!gn!reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: anxiety, Steve swearing (he’s not a sweet innocent angel when it comes to language and I stand by that), classic hurt/comfort fic

A/N: Just a sweet little drabble (by my standards) inspired by a request I got ages ago.

@yoquese2637

Masterlist

"Y/n?"

The knock on your door is gentle, despite the man delivering it. Steve's a brute and doesn't know his own strength most of the time, you always tell him that, but this time it seems like he took great care in being careful.

"Mhm?" you answer, sniffling. No point in hiding the tears when he could already hear them from downstairs. Fucking super soldier serum thingy.

Steve presses down on the door handle, stepping inside your room silently. He doesn't see you at first. Finds out it's because you're sitting on the floor, back against the bed, arms around your knees.

The palm of your hand dries away the solitary tears dripping down your cheek, ignoring the concerned glance of your brother. His eyebrows are knitted tightly into a frown, making him look so serious and ceremonial. You've never liked upsetting him.

Maybe you don't have the restraints you thought you had, when Steve's arm wraps around your shoulders and tugs you into his side. The small sliver of composure you managed to hold onto when he entered the room disappears into thin air as you cry into his chest, soaking his white t-shirt with your tears.

He stares out of the window, seeing the pale purple hue of the sky as it slowly fades into darkness. It takes a long time before your sobs die down into sniffles. Too much time, much longer than he likes.

"Why are you crying, sweetheart? Huh?" your brother asks, letting his chin fall down as he glances down at your figure curled up into him. "You know I hate seeing you like this. More than anything."

You shake your head, another onslaught of tears coming from your eyes. They're already red and puffy, accompanied by the pounding headache and sore throat from hours of doing the same. Talking feels like an exhausting effort, despite the knowledge that Steve would listen to any and every word that would come out of your mouth.

There's no one else left in your family but Steve. That and the large age gap between you has made it natural that he's become some form of caretaker, protector, for you. You're an adult now, but he still looks out for you as if you were a little kid.

"Alright, silent treatment it is. Just gonna leave me to talk then, yeah?" he says, an attempt to lighten the mood. It doesn't work. Steve sighs. "It hasn't slipped past me that you haven't been yourself lately, Y/n. I can hear that you don't fall asleep until early in the morning when you're here and not in your dorm. Crying yourself to sleep. You barely talk to me anymore."

All you do is bury your face into your arms, small whimpers and sniffles escaping your lips. Steve's hand comes to rest on your back, rubbing up and down.

"It's not enough that I barely get to hang out with you anymore 'cause you spend most of the time at campus, but while you're visiting home you're so distant. It's not like you, doll. C'mon. What is it?"

A deep breath that comes out as shaky, your lips trembling as you part them to speak.

"It's so hard," you whisper, voice breaking and getting stuck on a sob desperate to come out. "And I'm scared. I don't know anything about what I want. Everything just feels pointless."

He draws in a sharp breath, tightening his fingers until they dig into the soft flesh of your arm. "Y/n..."

"I can't fall asleep because I just keep thinking about the future and it makes me want to hole myself up here in your house forever. I feel like I'll never do anything worth something. Like I'm just doomed to be one of those people that fade into the background, don't mean anything to anyone."

"Don't say that," Steve growls, retracting the arm he had around your shoulder. "Don't you ever say that again, Y/n."

The abrupt change in the tone of his voice unnerves you, forces your gaze away from his burning stare. But he doesn't let you—no, he grips your face with his hands, tilting your chin up until you're staring into his now narrow eyes.

"How could you even think that?" he asks. He sounds upset, for real. Like he actually believes in the words he's saying. You just don't. "God, Y/n, I'm so damn—I'm so mad that you don't see..."

Steve shakes his head, lowering his gaze with a mumbled curse under his breath.

"You're scared and anxious. That's understandable considering the goddamn horrible state the world is in. But don't you ever think that you are not something special, Y/n. I want you to think that you're the most kind, sweet and smart person in the world."

It's your turn to shake your head with a silent scoff, letting the salty tears seep into the corner of your mouth.

"You're family. You have to say that. It doesn't matter what you think or what you want me to believe you think. That doesn't make it less true that I'm just an average person who'll probably never amount to something. I'm not good at anything."

Steve clenches his jaw, breathing out deeply through his nose. "It's hard not to compare yourself to people, I know that. Believe me I do—"

"You can't say that. God, Steve—you're a literal fucking Avenger. Don't you understand that? You can be insecure as much as you want, but at the end of the day you still matter. The world would miss you if you were gone. You've done something meaningful with your life. That's never gonna be how people look at me."

"Fucking hell you're stubborn,"Steve seethes, the very rare curse slipping out of his mouth. "Even if you don't believe me, I want you to know that I do think you are one of the most amazing people I know. I genuinely do. And I've met a hell of a lot of people."

The roll of your eyes doesn't go unnoticed by your brother. He dries away the last few tears from underneath your eyes with his thumbs, letting his hand linger on your cheek for a second.

"Don't you roll your eyes on me. I don't know what's made you so insecure about yourself, but this that you're feeling—it's not forever. You haven't even graduated college yet, honey. You don't need to have anything figured out.

Your gaze averts from his, staring out through the window out onto the green trees lining the yard, peaking over the sill. There's a certain genuineness in your brother's words, and you know he really does believe whatever he's saying. That doesn't mean you are there yet, far from it. But for tonight, maybe you can let it go.

"You know, anyone that tells you different are punks," Steve adds.

A chuckle escapes through your tears. "Who the hell still says punks?"

Steve scoffs, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. "Yeah, yeah. I'm not young and cool anymore. An old man."

"You're 30. Hardly old yet. Never been cool, though," you tease through your sniffles.

"Who raised you?" he answers playfully, squeezing the back of your neck.

"You did."

"Huh. Did a bad job at it, then."

A minute passes by, comfortable silence. Your head leaning on your brother's shoulder.

"I'm hungry," you mumble under your breath while looking down at the carpet underneath your feet.

A scoff, equally amused and relieved, sounds from Steve. He squeezes your arms, tugging you into his side to plant a kiss to your head. With a grunt he pushes himself up from the ground, offering his hand to help you do the same.

"I ordered Thai. A lot," he says, holding onto your arm even when you’re standing up now. "Let's stuff our faces, huh?"

[whump-cravings]

Usurper AU - No Escape

TR3 Masterlist

~760 words | Original work: TR3 AU. Weeks after Price & Monster. Changed the name from “Vile AU” to “Usurper AU“ for Ironda x Ironda violence instead of Ironda x Invaders

Content: caretaking from whumper, depression, disordered eating, brief suicide mention, drugging

"Let me be very clear," Peraja said, pouring amber liquor into a small tumbler. "If you kill yourself, I’ll ensure your brother pays for it.”

Hakon crumpled in place, shoulders and head bowed as hot tears and hope slipped from him. Of course the one escape left to him would be cut off. Of course. He was just so tired.

Peraja noticed his posture change, looking at him. "Oh," the king sighed, clicking his tongue. "You poor thing." He capped the crystal decanter, lifting his glass as he returned to his seat. He reached for Hakon, but instead of grabbing, he gently guided Hakon's head onto his lap. "You're under so much pressure, aren't you?"

The kindness, no matter how insincere, was enough to push Hakon into full-on weeping. No one had truly touched him in weeks. Clutching at Peraja like a lifeline, he turned his face into the man's leg, all his dammed-up misery breaking free.

Fingers carded through his hair, filling his body with a warm sensation at every pass. "I know," Peraja murmured. "I know. You don't have to hold it all on your own."

Traitorous relief washed over him, overshadowing the shame of taking comfort from his enemy. Violent sobs wracked Hakon's body as he thought of everything he had been holding onto. The loss of Mother and Father, worrying over Rohisa's well-being, Baltar's pain and his complicity in it, trying to keep people safe, his self-disgust and loathing, how agony filled his every waking moment and many of his sleeping ones too.

Peraja stroked Hakon's head through all of it. And eventually, a long while later, he was left quietly sniffling, the occasional tremor running through him. Exhaustion weighed down every part of him. He ought to have sit up onto his heels, but he didn't want to lose the physical contact. How pathetic he'd become.

The sofa creaked as Peraja leaned over the arm. When he returned to center, he touched something to Hakon's lips. Hakon tensed but accepted the berry. Another wave of tears sprung to his tired eyes as the king continued to prompt him to eat, his stomach already roiling.

It was only a few pieces later that the inevitable happened, and Hakon dragged himself upright as his body began to reject the food. An empty glass appeared in his field of vision and he took it, containing the mess. He grimaced at the burning sensation in his throat, which seemed to get more intense and longer each time.

"Hm." Peraja stood, squeezing Hakon's shoulder before walking across the room to a drawer at the writing desk. Hakon wiped errant tears away from his eyes, raising his head to find Peraja returning with another cup and something held loosely in his other hand. He gave Hakon the cup first, which was just water. He gratefully swished his mouth clean, then managed to swallow a mouthful.

The king then deposited a small disc into Hakon's hand, made of what looked like compressed powder and herbs, and a little honey ball. Some kind of drug, and a sweet to wash the taste away?

"Let's see if that helps," Peraja said as he took a seat again. Hakon looked at him in question, hesitating only a moment more when the king raised his brow.

The drug was indeed bitter and started to fall apart before Hakon could wash it down. He shuddered, slipping the honey candy onto his tongue.

Peraja surprised him by once again guiding his head down onto his lap, and he relaxed into the touch again. He saw the king pick up a book from the corner of his eye, and begin to read while stroking Hakon's head.

Exhausted from the crying and lulled by the king's sedate energy, Hakon easily slipped into a light doze. So it felt only moments later that Peraja had set the book down and once again presented him with food.

Hakon blinked, slowly, registering the touch on his lips. All his limbs were warm and heavy, and the anxiety over food was a foggy memory. He accepted the offering, rolling the berry around his mouth and savoring its tartness. A deep sigh left him.

"That's it," Peraja murmured while continuing to feed him. "Good boy."

Soon, Hakon's response time became slower and slower as he began to nod off. Peraja slid out from beneath Hakon's head, which he only vaguely registered, along with whatever the king did afterward, moving about the room. A comforting weight draped around his shoulders, and he was out.

taglist: @emcscared-whumps @nabanna @dont-touch-my-soup @highprofilerichkid

[ruqa22]

tw: death, blood, description of wound, mentions of dismemberment, angst, no fluff or comfort.

do not read if you don’t like it.

a/n: a little something for my sweet nymph.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“You’ll be okay, don’t worry,” a voice assured softly, cradling a young child’s body.

Blood pooled in the curve of their palms, leaking onto the already stained grass. Destruction was ever so present in the burning village. Mangled bodies were discarded like toys, no longer recognizable. Skewered limbs and fingers being laid amongst bodies of the old and young.

The young child tried to speak but blood gurgled at the corner of his lips, dripping down his chin and onto his tattered clothes. A large gaping wound in his abdomen proved to be fatal and there was no hope.

“I’m scared, Miss Kae,” the boy whispered, tears flooding his vision, unable to see the red-haired woman properly. Her violet eyes glinted in the peace of the moonlight despite the savage intensity of reality.

Kae smiled softly albeit with an anguished expression. Her own tears were apparent but she’d quickly hide them in order to not make the young boy panic further. Her slender fingers delicately grazed his cheek, hushing him gently.

“I know, I know. Everything will be alright, darling. You’ll be okay.” She spoke up.

It’s not okay.

“When you fall asleep and open your eyes again, you’ll see your family. They’ll be so happy to see you.” Her tone was sweet like honey, soothing the boy even though he was in excruciating agony. Her free hand glided over the wound in his abdomen, doing her best to not break her composure.

“Really? I’ll see them?” he asked hopefully but the light in his eyes was slowly dimming.

“I’m sure of it,” she responded, cradling him closer to her body. Kae’s clothes were stained in his blood but it didn’t matter. All that really mattered was his comfort in the end.

The woman’s eyes fluttered shut as tears eventually welled up and flowed down her face. It was difficult to keep herself together for the sake of the young boy. She was supposed to protect him, to care for him, to make sure he lived a happy life.

But she failed him. Failed his family that entrusted her with him. What kind of caretaker was she if she couldn’t protect a child?

His breaths were becoming ragged and uneven by the second and she knew there was no hope left to save him. It was pointless. He was losing too much blood so quickly.

If she were to have been on time, he could’ve lived, he could’ve been doing so much more than bleeding out to death. He shouldn’t have to be in this situation.

Her ears heard soft whispers and that made her open her eyes in surprise. The young boy was trying to speak but the blood was gurgling up into his mouth. Kae was disheartened, yet she caressed his cheek and smiled softly.

“You’ll be okay,” she reassured again, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead. His eyes welled up in tears but he could not cry out as he clung to her for a few more moments.

Then his body went limp in her grasp and she couldn’t hold it in anymore. The caretaker’s body shuddered and her voice spilled out with heartbroken sobs. The destruction of the village was desolated, completely shattered. All that was left was the flickering fire and the last remaining inhabitant.

All her fault.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

i don’t know what came over me but i enjoyed writing this. for me personally, i teared up a bit since i was listening to a slower song.

hopefully it isn’t as bad as my other works that i really dislike so much. （＾ν＾）

[bellysoupset]

SOUP!!!!!!!

HI HI HI HI I CANT EXPLAIN HOW HAPPY I AM THAT YOURE BACK!!! oh my goodness i was literally typing this when i saw that you asked where i’ve been💀 i’ve been reading fics as you post them (i don’t have notifs on but i check your blog for updates on a regular basis LMAO) but life shtuff has only now died down enough for me to actually write/comment on things!! gosh i’m so excited you’re back!! in the LEAST pressure-y way, it’s almost embarrassing how slowly days went by as i was waiting for you to start posting again LOL like at one point i was telling myself “okay she said 20 days, it’s probably been at least a week”. it had been literally 3 days 💀 HAHAHAHWH

ANYWAYS

AHHHHHH MY BABIES MY BABIES!!!!! i don’t remember what the last thing i talked about on here was but WOW these last fics have made me cry and laugh and blush sooo many different times!! wen finding out was CRAZY and i literally sobbed w her bc the way everything played out was so unfortunate but also so realistic and raw and i had so many mixed feelings about everything!!!! and then wen isolating and bella checking on her!! and wen trying to push her away and then admitting that she felt so lonely GOD THAT WAS DEVASTATING but then bella being so supportive and comforting AGHHHH my girlsss <3333

and then omg the fic after that one??? i was SO surprised that wen forgave vin? and that they’re trying long distance??? i’m so fucking excited and happy abt that but god i’m sure it’ll be hard 😭 but YAY I KNEW THEY LOVED EACH OTHER TOO MUCH TO GIVE UP LIKE THAT ♥️

side note, luke being so depressed and struggling so much to adapt to his meds is so sad but so realistic too :,) i’m glad you’re making this a part of the plot!! but my man is def off his meds already lol im interested to see where this goes!! and also i LOVE how well jon and leo are doing <3 despite everything going on, they’re in their happy era fr <3

and now i’m sorry but the sick vin fic?????????? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, IT WAS EVERYTHING I NEEDED AND MORE‼️ first off, leo talking to him and being so real but also like calling him out like that??? while still being super supportive??? and the way he described wen was so accurate and so him-coded??? and then AHHHHH i’ve ALWAYS loved vin and bell’s friendship, i’ve genuinely always thought it was super adorable and i wanted more of them, so this fic was gold 🤭 a trope that ALWAYS gets me is when someone is ANGRY at someone they love and ofc being bitchy and sassy until they realise said someone is very much Unwell (it’s especially good if they’re so sick that they’re really out of it), and when they realise how sick they are they IMMEDIATELY switch from mad to concerned + caretaker mode!!!! so yeah you can imagine this whole fic had me on my knees 🤭 obsessed w how protective of luke bell is, and how protective of vin wen is, but also how both girls just jumped straight into action when he was clearly not feeling good <333 and then vin realising wen was using her dr. voice, and then the pure ANGST at the end when he sobs and they just hug and the “god i’m gonna fucking miss you” SOB SOB SOB SOB 😭😭😭🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

bell sick and luke taking care of her was also AMAZINGGGG🫶🏽 i always love when my girls get whumped <3333 omg and AHHHH luke and vin finally talking abt shtuff🥹 the “nothing to forgive” 😭 luke knowing he’ll get sick AND holding him closer??? GOSH THE BROTP MAN !!!!!

and oh my goodness i just read the most recent fic with the new OC!!!! this is so exciting and cool and i love his vibes ahhhh <3 i love how nonchalant max seems abt shtuff and im so so excited to see where things go!! i hope vin and him become friends but also i feel like there’s gonna be some tension and weird banter going on between them at least at first hehehe

ANYWAYS

your writing is fucking incredible and whenever i see a new post from your blog it genuinely lights up my day <3 i am completely in love with all your characters and the depth and intricacies behind each of them ♥️ i’m so thankful your blog exists🫶🏽 also, i saw you were really struggling for a while and i just wanted to check in and see if you were doing better? you’re so loved and talented and appreciated and you deserve all the peace and love and happiness in the world!!! i hope things are going well/better!

i can’t wait to read more of what you write! i’m super excited about this new character and about reading more stories abt your lovely OCs <3

YOU’RE AMAZING THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING AND KEEP SLAYING!!!

🦦

Soup found DEAD from love cardiac arrest outside of Miami beach.

🦦!!!!! Honestly I don't even wanna post your comments, I just wanna stare at them for hours 🙈🙈

Don't worry about catching up on fics, they'll be here when life slows down!! I know very well how sad it is that we must Adult ™.

I am SO HAPPY you liked the Wendy/Vince developments!! In my head you're like THE Wendy/Vin supporter, so every time I write something with them I'm like "uhmmm wonder what 🦦 is gonna think??"

Caretaker who's pissed and then switches to comfort is also one of my favorite tropes, I looooove the spiciness of guilt thrown in!

Take care babe 💛💛

[disease-danger-darkness-silence]

I am.... Tired.

My ex-husband is slowly dying, and I'm actually really fucking sad and broken up about it. I sobbed when he signed his DNR. Kenny and I made our peace over the last year or so and while I still have some resentments and a LOT of trauma, I've let most of the resentments go because... Frankly, I don't think most of what he did was deliberately malicious. He's the DEFINITION of the Happy Squirrel card in the Alleyman's Tarot - he has a thought and he does it, zero thinking or planning involved. I just got caught up in his bad choices, unfortunately.

His body isn't evacuating CO2 like it should so he's slowly killing himself via gas poisoning. His kidneys are trying to keep up like champs, and their function is phenomenal right now so he has a minute before he goes. That's what'll get him in the end, most likely - kidney failure. So he has anywhere from four weeks to two years, but most likely four months. If we're lucky, he'll make it to August 31, his birthday.

He apologized, profusely and honestly, because he is dying and wanted to get that off his chest. I almost laughed because I didn't need it, but he did. I'd... Forgiven him already, I'll say, although that's not quite the right word, but it's what I used because it's the closest this whore language has. I thanked him for the apology, told him that, and then told him that that wasn't what I was there for.

I've been helping him with his paperwork and end-of-life preparations, and I've been helping my daughter. He lives with her and she refuses to let him go to a hospice facility - she wants him to die happy and peaceful at home. She's become his primary caretaker. She had to quit her job to do so. I'm her respite, so I take care of him when she needs a break or has to run errands.

Raven and I found an apartment complex in Red Rock, about 5 minutes from Adrienne's house, that's only a grand a month. I don't really WANT to move to Reno, for a lot of reasons, but I need to be nearer my kid while she deals with this. So while we have a gofundme going on for Adrienne to deal with shiz and buy things hospice can't provide, I'll probably need to do a lil' one for moving. *sigh* When I'm not up there, I'll be down here in Carson, throwing shit out, cleaning, and packing.

I'm gonna call them tomorrow and find out if they take HUD housing. Raven can qualify for HUD-VASH and that would help us a lot. Nation's Finest would help us move in by paying the deposit and first months rent. We just have to sign up with the Reno one.

It would be short-term. There's also a better job market in Reno, so I could work in a dispo again. I'd love that. I miss it.

I'm just so fucking tired. You know? So tired, all the time.

[selenhere]

I guess we all are again gonna say that

" 2023 is the year of BL" 😌❤

Content warning: my ranting about the gmmtv Bls ( could be long)

1. Only friends

The trailer looked really promising and the plot too is unique for a BL. I am glad that Gmmtv is branching out the new varieties of plot line rather than sticking with the college romance. So from the trailer it could be seen that the plot would be messy and its like a tangled mess created by each character. FirstKhao and ForceBook are gonna be a thing offcourse but I don't know what would happen with NeoMark. It's a whole mess of friends with benefits, unrequited love, crush, anger, lose everything. So definitely rooting for this one.

2. Cooking crush

Anything Offgun? I am up for it without a second thought. The trailer looks funny with a tinge of of serious stuffs and also we have Neo ❤. I am sure this would blow us up with Gun's top tier acting. Off is a medical student here and Gun is a cute chef who Off asks for cooking lessons.

3. Cherry Magic

This one is the adaptation of the Japanese Bl " Cherry Magic" and I am sure thai version wouldn't disappoint ( i mean it's TayNew y'all). Since we don't have any trailer for this one, I guess we gotta wait for some time. But seeing TayNew together as a couple again makes me giddy😭❤.

4. Hidden Agenda

This looks like a classic college romance with JoongDunk comeback. Though I feel that Joong is again given a similar type of role again but let's see how it goes. From the trailer, the story goes like Dunk likes this girl who was Joong's ex. So in order to impress the girl Dunk asks for Joong's help and the rest is history as they both fall for each other in the end.

5. A Boss and a Babe

Classic office romance but with BookForce (squealing in the background). Hope it doesn't turn out to be too cliche.

6. Last Twilight

I have a gut feeling that this one is gonna break us all and leave us sobbing. So here we have Sea who has some kinda of eye problem. He only has about 180 days before he completely looses his eyesight. Jimmy comes as a caretaker for Sea. They gradually spent time together and develop feelings for each other. Already starting the manifestation for a happy ending. 😭

7. Dangerous Romance

It is what 99% of us love - enemies to lovers .

Starring a complete new and unexpected couple - Perth and Chimon. Honestly, I am not that big fan of Perth, so I am not that interested in this one. Though I wanna see Chimon in a new role like this one.

But the trailer screams that it would be the top Bl of 2023. So lets wait and see.

8. Our Sky 2

This one makes me tear up. It kinda feels like we just watched the first generation Gmmtv couple yesterday and now they have all become so successful and here we have the second generation succeeding them. (way too much excited for OhmNanon)

[noose-lion]

Ok so. Out of all the titles, the one I was LEAST interested in was "ugly duckling" because it looked pretty basic. But upon further inspection of my choices of interest,

1) it may very well be the best fic I've ever read and

2) the title doesn't really give much away. It could be. Well. Anything. I'm going to assume it's either about Dazai or Chuuya's humanity/differences from "normal" people.

Anyway, can't wait for that one! (Take your time though, give yourself breaks and try to stay healthy (✿^‿^))

WDTSDG is too cryptic and I don't like not knowing things so you're telling me about that >:( (chapter 6~)

Smoke and mirror caught my attention because it's the most recently opened...yes

Fox and the sheepdog!! Dazai's going to be foxy and Chuuya is going to be the sheepdog- Aww~ no but really what's it about. Because I saw a werewolf AU HC post just a few days ago. So I'm taking it literally for now

That's all! I hope you don't mind me asking, and of course you have a choice to answer them, you don't have to if you don't want to.

Have a good day/night :)

"Ugly Duckling"

This is a story of healing from grief. Dazai has to come to terms with Oda's choice and his own glorified version of his friend, and in doing so he gains insight into the concept of humanity. It's also a really sweet "accidental kid acquisition".

As he reached the top he was met with the open door of the above shop apartment.

It creaked further open, possibly the wind but more likely the trespasser Dazai had heard from below. Slowly, he pushed the door and slipped into the apartment. At first glance he was met with a dark and deserted dormitory like abode. Second glance, it was obvious someone had been living here for the past week.

Dazai felt a pinprick flame ignite in his gut, subtly becoming a larger and larger furnace of sharp heat, the closest thing to anger possible for the Demon Prodigy. How dare some lowlife trespass into Oda's world. 

Something crashed to the ground. Dazai spun left toward the offending sound, seeing that a closet was cracked open. Yanking his gun from his waistband he charged forward, throwing open the closet door.

"I'm sorry!"

It's Sakura. She's huddled at the back of the tiny closet, buried in a blanket. Dazai only recognizes her from a picture Oda had shown him once. Dazai drops his gun in shock, Mori would hate that, as the four year old stares up at him with wet eyes. 

"How-" Dazai had never considered this. 

How is she alive?

Oda is dead. And in his death he's left behind two lonely orphans. One a dear friend the other his beloved child.

Oda told him to save the orphans, but Dazai never considered that he'd be the sole caretaker of a child at 18. On that note he also never thought he he'd leave the mafia or live this long. And now that he has her, Dazai isn't sure he could live without her.

---

"Where Do The Strays Go?" (WDTSG)

This one actually has 5 chapters already up on my ao3 (@ noose_lion). It's a Tokyo Ghoul bsd au. Kinda niche, but I'm doing it for fun and it's not my usual polished work. I try to update monthly.

---

"Smoke And Silver"

Dazai pressed the gun back to the sobbing man knelt before him, he cocked it, grinning when the mole flinched. "Please, please, please…" the man blubbered and begged.

The gun clicked and the mole screamed before slumping to the ground crying. Dazai's face was contemplative, watching the boy Hirotsu felt uneasy. He began making his way toward him.

Dazai was staring at the man crumbled at his feet. Slowly he crouched before him nudging the mole's head with his gun. "You really sought to live that much? Then why, pray tell me, did you not give up your partner?"

And with that Dazai reached forward and brushed his fingers across the mole's forehead. A flash of blue light revealed a trembling woman standing at the back of the warehouse. As every mafia member and their gun turned toward the women, Hirotsu leaped forward. Dazai's gun went off with a bang, Hirotsu's stern hand the only thing keeping it pointed at the ceiling and not at the boy's head. Dazai's eyes were filled with such melancholy as he turned to look at the silver haired man. "A pity that you interrupted."

Hirotsu frowned. "I think not, Dazai-kun."

The confusion present in the boy's eyes would continue to haunt the olderman, probably forever.

Hirotsu has been assassinated. Dazai and Chuuya are investigating it with with a hunch that it's a inside job. Hirotsu had been collecting dirt on someone, and somehow it's tied to Dazai.

---

"The Fox and the Sheephound"

(I'm still trying to figure out if Sheepdog or Sheephound is better...)

It's basically a Dazai joins the Sheep au. The events of 15 happened vastly different, leading to Chuuya and Dazai meeting a year later. The Sheep are a fully fledged gang and the only threat to the Mafia's control. Dazai is suffocating under the control of Mori, the boss reviving him from an attempt on a weekly basis. He wants out, and he's not above completely dismantling the Port Mafia on the way out.

---

THE WEREWOLF AU IS DEFINITELY GONNA BECOME A FIC, BUT ITS STILL IN THE PLANNING STAGES.

[kettouryuujin]

Nobility AU - Sabi

[Inspired by @monsoon-of-art's Pokerus AU and @jade-nargacuga's Pokerus: Ghosts] The youngest of the Wardens sat at Avalugg’s Legacy, sighing and thinking to herself.

Nearby, her Noble Braivary stood, looking at the young Warden with concern.

‘Sabi… you’ve seen what will happen if you do not take this, right?’

The pair had talked a lot, the Lord’s mental abilities allowing him to bypass the language barrier between human and Pokémon. But this was the first time they’d talked about something so…serious.

“Yeah, I do.” She looked at her weakening fingers, giving them a small wiggle. “But the real question is… do I let it make me a Magby, and hope I can reclaim my humanity? Or do I become Lady of the Skies, changing species on my own terms but sacrificing my human self for good?”

‘I won’t make you choose, although…’ A nuzzle. ‘I know what I’d prefer.’

“...is it really that bad? I…didn’t see what happened after I lost myself…”

‘Sabi...I don’t have your clairvoyance, but taking what you know and combining it with what I’ve heard from the other Nobles?

The region is heading for disaster. And I…’ A choked sob caused the youth to look at the avian in shock. ‘I don’t want you caught up in it. Even if it means I end up a Rufflet again.’

Sabi shot up upon "hearing" that. “Wait, my vision didn’t mention you'd devolve! I thought you’d just be…poof!” Hands waved in the air to accentuate her point. “I didn’t think that Rufflet I saw was you!”

‘Wait, really?’ A squawking laugh. ‘Guess it’s a good thing I told you, huh?’ The Lord didn’t want to mention that he was perfectly willing to lay down his actual life for his young caretaker. He just didn’t have to because Dialga had stepped in.

And oh, convincing Sabi to keep that a secret had been its own kettle of fish. The truth about Sinnoh had accidentally gone on public broadcast that day, and Sabi had picked up. Fortunately, she was the only human around at the time. Unfortunately, she didn’t quite get that the Clans wouldn’t understand that the Sinnoh they were worshiping wasn’t the actual Sinnoh. Honestly, if it wasn’t for her clairvoyance, he’d probably have never convinced her. (He still wondered if she actually tried telling Iscan and he just thought she was being silly. Well, there were worse people to try it wit-)

Hold your Rapidashes. Where’d the young girl go? She- oh. She was already running along the path to the mountain. ‘Guess that answers that question.’ A small chuckle as the Lord took off, trailing behind the soon-to-be-ex-Warden. Sabi needed him to let her know when it was safe to fly, after all.

——

Sabi was finding that climbing up a mountain was… rather difficult. Her body was slowly shrinking as she continued along the trek, making the distance slowly lengthen. And, honestly, she’d never tried to go up here under her own power before - it was always with the help of Lord Braivary.

So the young Warden had severely underestimated the effort it would take to slowly walk to the top. “Huf… huff…ruff…there…” It was only natural that she’d collapse in the snow face-first after such a climb.

A soft flapping noise signaled the Lord’s arrival, which he followed up by nudging the youth onto her back. ‘Aye. It would be best for you to take a break, young one. Even if you have your wings, you are too tired to fly right now. Much less fly the entire way to Snowpoint Temple.’

“Y-Yeah… good idea…” A grunt as she splayed her long, feathered “arms”, fingers slowly losing feeling as they faded into the future wings. “‘m feelin’ so heavy too…”

‘That would be the exhaustion talking, Sabi.’

“But the real question is, is it really just exhaustion (huff…ruff…), or is it that I’m just not bird enough yet?”

‘...you know what? I’m not sure.’

—-

Not long after their discussion, the youth had fallen asleep. Lord Braviary kept watch, ensuring no one would interfere while also seeing his (ex-)Warden shift and shrink some more. It wasn’t quite a true Rufflet size, but it was small and light - her wings should be enough to carry her from peak to Temple.

So he nudged the youngling awake, letting her rise with a *yaaaaawn*.

“Mrrrrgh… mornin’, m’Lord…”

‘Heh, using my title one last time I see?’

“Huh?” A fluff of snow as Sabi rose, looking herself over with a blink. “Oh right…almost forgot.” A chuckle as she stood. “No, wait, I did forget! Silly…” The mostly-Rufflet shook off all the snow, the Lord of the Skies using a mental barrier to keep any from landing on him.

‘Looks like someone’s ready for their first flight.’

“First aaand most important!” A giddy little twirl. “You’ll catch me if you gotta, right Braviary?”

‘I’d rather have my feathers all gooped up again than let you fall.’ The pair snickered, remembering what had happened the first time they’d properly met. Back when Sabi didn’t really know you weren’t supposed to prank Nobles.

She still pranked Lord Braivary every now and then, but after they met as Warden and Noble? When he dumped that first offering on her? She knew that payback was around the corner. 

But now wasn’t a time for pranks. Now was the time to finish the Trial. Steeling herself, the ex-Warden went to the edge of the peak, wings spread and crouched down…

Then blinked, relaxing her stance as she looked her to-be-ex-Lord dead in the eyes. “Erm. I kinda assumed flight instincts would take over here…”

‘Oh, I know.’ And the Noble was grinning at her. Ok, maybe it was still time for a small joke or two. ‘You haven’t seen me teaching any of the chicks to fly.’

“Can you teach me?”

‘I’ll give a… crash course. Pun slightly intended.’ More laughter as the larger avian went to the smaller quasi-avian, gently walking her through the motions and steps of flight.

—-

“Wahoo!”

‘It’s a rush, isn’t it?’ As the duo flew towards Snowpoint Temple, Sabi positioned over Lord Braivary in case the worst happened, she couldn’t help but agree.

“Tell me about it! I haven’t had this much fun in… in… ever!” Oh, she’d be twisting and twirling and doing all sorts of aerial acrobatics if she wasn’t so new to flying under her own power. “It’s one thing flying on your back, but this…”

‘Is something else entirely?’ He grinned up at Sabi, the familiarity in his voice making her think back to something she never knew about the Noble. A Rufflet would usually ride on their parent’s back for the first couple of flights, to get used to the concept. Apparently, the current Lord had been almost addicted to this, to the point of sneaking on his father’s back when he had a chance. 

It was easy to see why he was so skilled in the air now. Sabi would’ve loved to get the same experience herself, even though she (techically) already had. That, and she was still a bit too big to really take the next step (trying to take off from the Braivary's back).

As the pair grew closer and closer to the Temple, the future Lady could feel her changes coming to a close. Her frame compressing just a bit more, the last vestiges of humanity fading as Sinnoh’s might began to build within her.

And it was only by Sinnoh’s grace that she hadn’t fallen - well, alright, there were a couple of slip-ups and stumbles. But she’d been able to catch herself with minimal help from the Braviary, getting back in the air with a couple of wingbeats.

The stone structure grew closer and closer, the power within pushing out as she came in to land. It was a strange feeling, evolution - she couldn’t really feel it the way she could her changes. But she could still tell her point of view was raising, her talons naturally preparing for a landing with increased mass.

*whump!* And whoof…what a landing it was! Shaking her head out, the new Lady took a couple of slow steps forwards - it hadn’t been the smoothest touchdown, but given it was her first flight? Landing on two feet was success enough for her.

Nearby, Sir Rufflet (*snicker*) touched down, fluffing his feathers some. “And that’s the end of that. How do you feel, m’Lady?”

Snort. “Ohhh, that is going to take some getting used to! Right, right, how I feel. Erm…” Blink. “Honestly? I’m feeling rather alright… almost like nothing’s different, at least if I don’t think about it.” Which included carefully veering her thoughts away from the pool of energy that had formed in her mind. No need for levitating right now, thankyouverymuch.

Hold on. Was it her, or did the young Sir seem…large? Maybe she should use the front of the temple as a measuring stick…

Gliding down to the temple entry, Sabi looked up with a blink. It… actually wasn’t as small as she expected it to be, given her ex-Lord’s size. Said Rufflet snickered behind her, resulting in a whirl and a glare. “Heh, looks like Arceus isn’t quiiite ready for you to be full size yet…”

That explained it. She was young and inexperienced compared to every past Noble of the Skies. And the former Lord’s experience had left him larger than a normal Rufflet, too.

…perhaps she could let a couple thoughts drift towards that pool.

Snickering was cut off as the Rufflet was gently buried in a pile of glowing pink snow. “Gah!”

“Oh, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over my new Psychic type.”

The Rufflet wiggled and squirmed, eventually popping his head out of the snow. His old Warden earned a glare for the gag, but beneath it there was a smirk on his beak. “Maybe you should get your ears checked out? Oh, wait, bird. Don’t have any.”

“Why I oughta…” His laughter echoed around the Temple as he dodged the Lady’s next attempt at burying him in white fluff. Even with the roles reversed, they were still the same inside.

And in the end, that’s what was most important.