#coal hates kaden

[shywhumpauthor]

Love your writing, I'm just very bad at prompts ✨ here I go: Going catatonic? Mouth sewn shut? Carewhump with Mathias (therapy for Kaden's hands maybe)?

Oh yessss carewhump!!

Masterlist

[after the failed escape attempt, before isolation]

Cw: creepy whumper, noncon intimacy (not sexual, but mathias is ick), mentioned past torture, abuse, noncon touching (once again, not sexual)

Mathias sighed, his lips pulling back into a frown as he watched the pencil tumble to the floor with a small clatter.

Kaden cringed in response, their hand curling into a shaking fist as they quickly retracted their hands. Back to their lap, where they were safe. Safe from the stupid pencil and from Mathias’s own hands resting against theirs, prompting each agonizing letter. The floorboards creaked as the man swooped down, snatching up the pencil between two fingers and setting it back on the desk.

“Come on now, love, you know what you have to do. Just a little bit more.” Mathias’s voice slipped through their mind as he leaned over their shoulder once more, his chest pressing against their back. His mouth rested next to their ear, breath warming the side of their face as his hand rested against their arm, sliding down to their hand. The thick bandages had been replaced with thin layers of gauze, but the wounds still ached deeply with each movement. Rough scabs had healed to ragged pink scars, for the most part healed, but still painful. Kaden tensed under the touch, feeling their hands grow clammy as Mathias’s thumb brushed over the bandaging.

His hands were warm, but they might as well have been burning red as he pressed his fingers lightly into the wounds.

“That’s the third time you’ve dropped it,” He murmured, his other hand moving to their shoulder, before sliding down to rest just against their elbow. “You can do better than that, love. Perhaps I haven’t given you the right… motivation.” His nails began to dig into their skin and Kaden stiffened, a small sound dying against their tongue as they clenched their jaw.

“I’ll give you one more chance, darling, alright?” Mathias hummed, his grip loosening just as quickly as it had tightened, touch becoming ever so gentle as he picked up their right hand, guiding it to pick up the pencil. “Five more lines, then we can take a small break.”

Five more.

Kaden looked down at the paper in front of them, half covered in a messy scrawl. They had tried to stay along the lines, but with the motor function of a three year old, they could barely hold the pencil, much less write. Mathias didn’t seem to be caring much for quality, though, which they were grateful for. They had already written the same sentence fifteen times over on this sheet, thirty times the one before. To help them get better, Mathias said when he challenged them to the task. To help them heal, so they weren’t useless. The task had felt mundane at first, but now it was excruciating. Every letter sent sharp pains through their palm, little bolts of electricity down their fingers and up their arm, causing the muscles to contract and spasm.

With a deep breath, working up the will, Kaden shifted their hand away from his, and readjusted their grip on the pencil. Mathias smirked, but stayed quiet, resting his hand against the desk itself, still practically leaning over them.

Kaden wanted to snap at him to back up, that he was their main hindrance right now, only making this more difficult for them, but they were sure he already knew that. That’s why he was doing it, right?

With his breath creeping down the side of their neck, Kaden slowly began to write.

I will not run.

The page before had been “I will behave.”

The one yesterday was “I will not act out.”

Seemed kind of redundant, they thought. Didn’t “not acting out” fall under “behaving”? Kaden wasn’t stupid enough to voice the obvious flaw in the man’s orders, though. They would very much like to keep the remaining function in their hands.

This particular punishment seemed never ending. The branding, the torture, all of that after the first few days seemed acceptable. Well- not acceptable but—expected? Physical pain for misbehaving, or whatever Mathias wanted to call it. Defiance, stupidity, he had many names for their actions prior. This seemed stupid, though. Writing over and over rules, commandments he made them swear to never break. The same thing over and over, until they could no longer move their fingers.

I will not run.

Their hand was shaking worse with each letter. There was once a time where they wished they were ambidextrous, so they would be able to take most of the stress off the single hand, but their left hand seemed so much worse. They were barely able to twitch the fingers, though they didn’t like to think much about it, they prayed the damage was temporary.

I will not run.

God, how many more? Their eyes stung with exhaustion and pained tears, the words drifting free of the college bound rule. The stopped caring about neatness. If Mathias didn’t care, they didn’t. The letters grew to overlap old lines, falling into a deep slant, but Kaden wasn’t really looking at the paper. They blinked hard, not willing to let this man see them cry. Not over something as stupid and simple as writing lines.

I will not run.

Their letters now were barely comprehensible, indistinguishable from the next. They weren’t sure they were even writing the right ones any more, they just wanted to get it over with. One more. One more line, and a break. Mathias had said so, and Kaden liked to think he wouldn’t break his word. He was a liar, but for now they would pretend as if he could only tell the truth. They knew that if they even thought there could be more, they wouldn’t be able to finish. They would drop the pencil and accept whatever consequences, because at least then they’d have a new pain to distract themself from their burning hand.

Four more words.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One-

Kaden let out a shallow breath, squeezing their eyes shut for a moment as they tried to bring the tears back to bay. They were okay, it was over for now. It was over for now and they were okay. They did what he asked, what he demanded, and they were okay. He hadn’t stopped them. They set the pencil down, exhaling a shaky breath as they slowly flexed their fingers.

“Good job, sweetheart,” the man whispered in their ear, sending a disgusted chill creeping down Kaden’s spine. They could feel his lips, just barely brushing against their skin, so close and so.. wrong. Their hands burned, and they wanted nothing more than to shove him away, to push to their feet and yell for him to fuck off, but they were smarter than that. Instead, they stayed dead still, barely daring to breathe as he trailed his hand down from their elbow to their palm.

His hands were against theirs, holding them, working away at the inflamed nerves with gentle, smooth circles. Kaden winced, and his touch became lighter, so soft and caring and wrong. His touch was sickening, his voice dripping with a sweet, condescending tone as he pressed even closer to them. Kaden felt trapped, trapped within the cage his arms and chest formed around them, within their own body. They squirmed, a low whine building in the back of their throat that they suppressed before any noise could release. He just shushed them, shaking his head in a quiet warning.

“Calm down, darling,” Mathias murmured, the strong scent of his cologne flooding Kaden’s senses as he carefully worked away at the pained muscles, from their aching wrist to the center of their palm, to each finger, easing away the tension until the pain faded from a sharp ache to dull throbbing.

Kaden hated how they began to settle into the touch after a few moments. The breath that had been building in their chest released, and their posture relaxed, which made Mathias smirk softly.

“You see, love, things can be so nice when you just do what your told..”

——————————

I’m craving violence and defiance today hm

Tag list: @whumpasaurus101 @t0rture-me @suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpycries @pigeonwhumps @d-cs @whump-me-all-night-long @morning-star-whump @aethernorwood

[leighsartworks216]

Might I request an enemies to friends to lovers with Astarion?

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK LITTLE DRABBLE. IT IS ALMOST 4K WORDS. It also became a songfic. The song is "Your Stupid Face" by Kaden MacKay

Also it is 11:20. I am so tired. I do not have the energy to proofread this rn. So it's as good as it's gonna get

Warnings: self-doubt, bickering

Word Count: 3,957

Masterlist

AO3

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I just really hate your face

Though I know that won't surprise you

But, to me, your skin is one giant wart

And your laugh's one big snort

And you stink, so in short

I despise you

You disgrace the human race

'Cause you're more of a mosquito

I would rather have the dentist and drill

Then this swine in the swill

And if you were a bill, I would veto

And if the world was perfect, you would be gone without a trace

But since the world could never be that great

I'll just hate your stupid face

-

Astarion sighed just behind you. You glared over your shoulder at him. Did he really have to be so annoying when you were trying to help? What did he have against doing the right thing?! Or were all high elves as up their asses as him?

The little girl glanced nervously between you, her hands fiddling anxiously with each other. “I-Is that alright?”

You turned back to her with a big smile, though Astarion could see the strain behind it. “Of course! It’s no problem. We’ll find your toy and bring it back before nightfall, how’s that sound?”

“Really?!” Her eyes became wide and excited, bouncing on her feet like there were hot coals beneath it. “Thank you so much!”

You watched as she ran off back to her mother, jumping as she grabbed the woman’s arm and pointed at you. You smiled, genuine this time, and waved to them both. Then, you turned to go back into the woods.

The joy didn’t last long.

“I thought being an adventurer meant slaying dragons, learning powerful spells, gaining power - that sort of thing.” Astarion sighed again, long and dramatic, as he stepped over a branch. “But, no, here we are, armed to the teeth, tadpoles crawling into our minds, looking for a stuffed animal.”

You grit your teeth together and tried to ignore him. The sooner you found the girl’s stuffed bear, the sooner you could stop listening to his whining. “She said she lost it over here, somewhere, but something could have taken it or moved it by now. If we split up, we can cover more ground.”

You could almost feel the way he rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. If I find it, I’m not telling you. And I’m certainly not going to touch it. Gods only know what’s on it.”

“You’re such a child!”

He lays a hand over his chest, looking down his nose at you. “I’m so sorry that I have some dignity left.”

How did you get stuck with such an annoying, self-entitled, brat? 

“Fine! Then I’ll look, and you can follow me around like a lost puppy.” You smiled sickeningly sweet up at him, your whole expression filled with sarcasm and annoyance. “Happy?”

He scowled. “And I have to follow you because…? If you’re so eager for my company, you should just say so, darling.”

You shook your head, facade falling. “You’re impossible.” You stomped off. He could follow you or wait around, you didn’t have the energy left to care.

—

Oh, no

No

I just really like your face

You don't have to look so happy

I'm not really into love that you flaunt

In some glittery font

But if that's what you want

Make it snappy

I just feel so out of place

Well, except for when you're near me

When you're gone, I'm like a plant with no root

Or a song that's on mute

Don't you dare call it cute!

You should fear me!

And if the world was perfect, you would've never invaded my space

But since the world's obsessed with saying, "psych!"

Now I like your stupid face

-

You tilted your head, watching as Astarion held up a mirror. The tadpole kept him from burning in the sun, but it did nothing to bring back his reflection.

“Looking at something?” His voice catches you off guard. It was odd to have someone talking to you with their back turned, even more so when he could see your reflection and you couldn’t see his.

“Just looking,” you tell him. “What are you doing?”

He sighs, forlorn. “I’m looking, too, but not seeing very much. Another quirk of my affliction.”

“Do you miss it?”

He stands and turns while he speaks, finally meeting you face-to-face. “Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity?” He sighs again. His face looks so droopy and sad, like a puppy left out in the rain. “Of course I miss it. I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

You look at his eyes, really look. It was hard to picture him with any other color. It was a side-effect of his vampirism, but you could go your whole life believing they always were and always had been red. “What color were they before?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. My face is just some dark shape in my past.” His face scrunches up in rage as he throws the mirror on the ground. You step back to avoid the shards that break from it. “Another thing I’ve lost.”

You can’t imagine forgetting your face. It’s a rather big portion of who you are, after all. Thinking about looking in a mirror and seeing nothing stirs your stomach like a witch’s brew. You study his face, eyes tracing over every curve and sharp edge and wrinkle. You tried to imagine being him, no longer able to see what you looked like.

Astarion frowns at you. “What?”

“I’ll be your mirror.” The words are out before you can even think them, but a spark of hope flickers in his eyes, and you can’t bring yourself to back out of it now. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me.” He pauses. His voice gets soft, lacking its usual bravado. “What you see.”

He waits as you look at him. You try to figure out what the world sees, versus what you see. The world may see his eyes, sharp and red and keen. The world would see his dangerous smile, full of pretty teeth and sharp fangs, threatening to bite.

But it’s not what you see. You see his hair, paler than freshly fallen snow. You see the way it curls around his ears, how there’s always one stubborn strand hanging by his forehead. You see the wrinkles that crease his face when he smiles, surrounding his mouth and crowding in the corners of his eyes. And you’re startled, trying to figure out how long ago you’d noticed these things about him.

“I see… the creases when you laugh.”

He sneers, placing a hand over his chest. He takes it as an insult when you mean it in the kindest way possible. Without his wrinkles, he wouldn’t be Astarion. “Excuse me? I’m an eternally young vampire, not your doting grandmother.” He huffs. He looks like he wants to stop - never mind what he looks like, he doesn’t want to hear what else you could possibly say. But he continues, “You can do better. What else?” The curiosity wins out.

You wonder if you should tell him the easy answer. Tell him what the world sees. What everyone else sees. But to do so feels like a huge disservice. You inhale, prepared to be scolded once more. “I see the way your hair curls around your ears.”

“This is meant to be flattery, not poetry.” He sighs, creases forming between his brows as he frowns, annoyed. “Just tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day.”

“Is that all you want?” You don’t mean to sound as angry as you do. “Shallow praise?”

He scoffs. “Hardly.” He begins ticking off fingers. “There’s also gold, sex, revenge - quite the list, really. But failing any of those, I will always settle for shallow praise.”

You shake your head. “What I see isn’t good enough for you then? The seductive, charming face you put on for everyone else - that’s what you want to know about?” He sneers. He hates how easily you’ve read him. And you hate how much it hurts. You can’t tell if it’s because your words mean nothing, or because he can’t even allow himself a single, beautiful flaw. “The world sees your eyes. They’re strong and piercing. And your smile: Dangerous. They see you for the monster you are. Are you satisfied now?”

You leave before he can answer you. Anger trembles in your fingers, but they’re weighed down with sadness. A conflicting bundle of emotions twists in your chest. You shouldn’t care if all he wants is to be called pretty and move on. You shouldn’t! And you don’t!

But you do…

—

I just really miss your face

Though, by now, I must disgust you

I had tried to be the stubbornest mule

'Cause I knew life was cruel

So I guess I was foolish to trust you

But I wait here just in case

Though I know I'm being senseless

How could I have ever been so naive

And wear my heart on my sleeve

When I knew it would leave me defenseless?

And if the world was perfect, you would be here in my embrace

But since the world denied me one last kiss

I'll just miss your stupid face

-

The sun burned. Truly, honest to gods burned. And he ran. What else was he supposed to do? Bake in the sunlight while everyone else said their teary goodbyes, “We’ll see you down the road”, yadda yadda?

But, he can admit when he messed up.

He should have stayed longer. By the docks. The sun was just beginning to rise, he had plenty of time to slip from one shadow to the next before it was high in the sky. He could have said his goodbyes. He should have.

Already he missed Karlach. He fondly remembers when she hauled him over her shoulder, jostling him about as she ran. He certainly wasn’t too pleased at the time, but now… And he missed her nickname for him. And the banter, and teasing, and… everything.

Everyone had their charms, he supposed. Gale was, well, Gale, but even he wasn’t too bad. And you.

It was hard to admit. He could say he missed the others all day, but you? You who dragged him into the woods to find a stuffed animal for a kid? Who begrudgingly let him have a sip that night he revealed himself? Who yelled at him when he couldn’t bear hearing anything other than he wanted to when you offered to be his mirror? Who hugged him after he killed Cazador? Who helped him save his brothers and sisters and all the other souls whose lives he ruined? Who smiled so sweetly at him?

He couldn’t say it.

After he ran away, cursing and damning the gods for confining him to the shadows again, he disappeared to the Underdark. You’d mentioned how they needed a leader, guidance. And, well, he had nowhere else to go.

He never got to see you run in the direction he left after saying your goodbyes, smiling and excited. Or watch as you search and search for him. How you shout his name. How tears well in your eyes as you realize he’s gone.

And maybe it’s better that way.

—

What are you doing here?

I didn't run away!

It was... it was a strategic retreat

What is there to talk about? It's over—I ruined it

Well, yeah of course I'm sorry, but

No, no, don't forgive me!

Why do you do that?

Why—why give me another chance to mess things up?

Because you—what?

Those three little words

Out of the blue

Completely uncalled for

Especially from you

Why don't you hate me?

Why do you care?

Can't you berate me? Isn't that fair?

Where is your glare?

Don't you dare leave our problems and pain on the shelf!

Because if you don't hate me, I can't hate myself

But that's why I need you

You shatter my fear

'Cause despite my misdeed, you are still right here

Though it's stupid to date me

You're willing to try

And if you don't hate me, then why should I?

Are you sure you don't want to give up on me?

You're a moron

-

The last thing Astarion anticipates is you barging into his home, stomping and angry. The next last thing he expects is for you to throw a cloak in his face. He backs up as fast as you approach, tripping and falling backward over an armchair. It tips back with him and he lands with a thud. When he pulls the cloak off his face, you’re standing over him, still just as pissed as before.

“Ah.” He grins sheepishly. “Hello?”

“You ran away!”

“Yes, yes, I know-”

“You ran away! I went chasing after you and you were gone!”

“The sun! I couldn’t-”

“I know! That’s why I went and got you that damn cloak! And I was going to give it to you on the docks, but you ran away!”

He struggles to get up, grunting as he tries to push the armchair off so he’s not bent in half. You huff and sit the chair upright. Then, you offer him a hand. He’s not sure if he should take it. He’s half-certain you’ll flip him over and crack the floor with his body. But you wave your hand, insistent, and he does not want to piss you off any more, so he takes it. You haul him to his feet.

He holds the cloak out in front of him, studying it with a frown. “Darling, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but clothes don’t actually protect us from the sun.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” You sigh, hands on your hips, but you seem to have cooled off some. “It’s the Cloak of Dragomir. Gale helped me find where it was hidden. I figured, if the tadpole is the only thing keeping you safe in the sun, then after it’s all over, you’d need something else to protect you. So.” You gestured at the cloak.

He was speechless, and perhaps a bit skeptical. It had already been several weeks since the docks, and every day he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it. Basking in the sun. Lounging in her warmth like a cat as he sleepily flipped through a book. It sounded too good to be true - a simple piece of fabric that could prevent him from turning to ash?

“Are you sure it works?”

You laughed, airily and annoyed. “No, I had a shortage of vampires to test it on at the time. I was going to find out when you tried it on. If it didn’t work, well…” You let out a long breath. You refused to take your eyes away from the cloak. Like looking at him again would bring all the rage and frustration back. “I’m still in touch with Gale. He can help me look for something.”

He spun it around to look at the back. It was a deep purple, with the only remarkable feature being a sort of fur around the neck and shoulders. He could almost imagine it hanging up in a shop.

You cleared your throat. “Put it on.”

“Hardly the best place to test it. The sun doesn’t exactly reach down here.” Still, he unclasped it and swung it over his shoulders.

It was light and breezy, allowing air to move through, but warm enough it kept away any chill - not very concerning for a vampire, but still a nice feature. It reached mid-thigh. He shifted around in it, testing its movement and fit. He bristled when he felt something brush against his arm.

He lifted up the edge of the cloak where he felt it, and his undead heart stopped all over again. There, messily embroidered on the lining in gold thread. Little Star. A poor imitation of embroidered stars surrounded it, forming a sort of faux night sky.

“I did that.” You clear your throat and scratch the back of your head, avoiding his eyes everywhere you looked. Every time you glanced back at him and his dumbfounded face, your cheeks heated up. “I know it’s not as good as yours, but, you know, I thought it was the best way to get a message across.”

His chest was full of emotion. He still had a hard time deciphering it all, even after so long of you carefully teasing them out. But through it all was one resounding question.

“Why?”

You finally made eye contact with him. You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this can’t have been easy to get your hands on. You could have sold it when I ran away, but you embroidered it, sought me out… Why? Let’s be honest, dear, we’re not exactly friends.”

“We’re not exactly at each other’s throats either.” It came out harsher than you meant. You took a breath to calm your nerves. “I know we didn’t really get along when we first met - hells, we still argued about everything under the sun with the slightest prompting, but I do care for you.”

His lips quick up slightly. “An unfortunate choice. I’m not exactly the easiest person to care for.”

“No.” You smile, soft and patient. It was hard to look at you now and connect you to the person who barged into his room moments ago. “But I want to. You’re worth the effort.”

—

So you think that we could work?

Here I thought I'd been the dumb one—what?

You're forgiving me for all I did wrong

You're unmuting the song

And, again, I belong to someone

No! You can drop the stupid smirk

Though by now I guess you've earned that

'Cause no matter how intensely I pout

Your stupid face will win out

And I guess it's about time I learned that

And though we go together like a Chanel Nº 5 and mace

At least it's not as dull as fitting like a glove

'Cause you're a nightmare that I've not been dreaming of

But I suppose that when push comes to shove

Fine!

I love your stupid face

-

You tugged Astarion through the city, releasing short apologies left and right to any early-risers you bumped into. He’d tried asking multiple times where in the hells you were taking him, but you never answered. You just shot him a bright smile over your shoulder and kept on running.

Before he knew it, you were at the docks. A light orange hue lined the edge of the ocean, signaling the sun’s appearance. He frowned. “You dragged me all the way out here to watch the sunrise?”

“Yes.” You squeezed his hand. Your eyes were wide and bright and filled with overwhelming glee. “You never got to see it last time you were here. But now you can!”

He scoffed, a grin teasing at his lips. “Darling, we could watch the sunrise from anywhere. We don’t need to be exactly here to do so.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, no, but it’s more about the principle of the thing. You didn’t get to see that sunrise and say goodbye, but now you can.”

Red eyes scanned the horizon. Oranges and yellows flooded from the ocean-line, chasing away the dark blue of night. He couldn’t deny it was beautiful, but…

He swallowed, frowning out at the sea. He couldn’t look at your face as he asked, quietly, too afraid to actually put the words out there, “So this is goodbye?”

The edge of the star poked her head out. He’d enjoyed watching the sunrises and sunsets during your adventure. He would welcome her touch onto his skin every day, grateful for even just a brief moment to be able to feel her warmth again after 200 years. And every night he would mourn her loss, a seed of fear planted deep within that any sunset could be his last, before he would be contained to the shadows forever. He never got to savor the last one. The one time he wasn’t prepared to go gracefully into that night.

“It doesn’t have to be,” you whisper back. If you hear the shuddering breath he lets out, you don’t say anything. If you see the tears building at the corners of his eyes as he turns to look at you, you don’t point it out. “I can stay. With you. If you want.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you.” But I wish I could. He wants nothing more than to be selfish. To take every single scrap you offer him and give nothing back.

You release his hand only to better tangle your fingers together. Your thumb runs along his palm. “You wouldn’t have to.”

“You’d be living in the shadows most of your life, even with this,” he lifts the edge of the cloak to make a point.

“Okay.”

“You wouldn’t be able to go on adventures. You wouldn’t be able to find someone else, have a family, live your life.”

“Okay.”

“Why are you so willing to give up everything for me?”

You raise your free hand to his cheek. It’s haloed by the red-orange light of the sun. He hates the way he leans into it without a second’s hesitation.

“Is it so hard to believe that I’d stay because I want to be with you?”

He opens his mouth, shuts it again, and tries to find the words. Strained, he chokes out, “Yes.”

“My lovely little star, even without the cloak, I’d stay in the shadows with you for eons. Adventure would be empty without you by my side. There is no one else I could bear to put up with besides you.”

He takes a breath and closes his eyes. It’s hard for the words to sink in, but he urges them to. Staying with him would not be a burden. He is not a burden. He holds your hand to his cheek, pressing it tighter against his skin. By the time he opens his eyes again, the sun is halfway risen.

“I’m not good at… this. Whatever this is. I have no idea how to do anything more than what I had to do. I have no idea what will happen.”

You smile. “Now that sounds like an adventure.”

He chuckles. The knot in his heart loosens. When had you turned from an annoying thorn in his side to this? How long ago had you wormed your way into his soul? What would he do without you?

He feels like he’s just been thrown downstream - caught in the current and waiting for it to burn. He’s uncertain as he leans forward slightly, experimentally. You let him come to you; you wait patiently and smile at him encouragingly until he rests his forehead against yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

The sun warms his skin as he lets go of the guilt holding him back. He’s a mess. He’s still working through his emotions with Cazador, trying to find footing amongst the spawn in the Underdark, trying to be good enough. And here you are saying he already is.

He catches your lips and allows himself to forget for the briefest moments that this is a terrible idea. How can he possibly think this is wrong when you sigh into his mouth and pull him closer? How can this possibly be wrong?

The reds, oranges, and yellows fade from the sky. Bright blue dominates the sky. And everything is okay.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @httyd-chocolate @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @chesb0red

[shywhumpauthor]

Piccrews? Maybe? Please 🥺 I’m in love with precious bean Kaden and bastard man Mathias…..

Ignore how this took me like a week I could not find the right picrew for kaden

Of course Anon! I have had this picrew of Mathias sitting in my camera roll since literally September

(Picrew link here)

Here is the bastard man himself. I played around with the idea of him being blond for a bit but this picrew didn’t have what I had in mind and everything else was too perfect to find a new one

(link)

And then here’s kaden, before and during captivity. (Before is from the night of the party, captivity is a little bit after the isolation chunk, before switching locations)

[shywhumpauthor]

What if you made Kaden’s story and spy whumpee’s story converge. Like an older version of Kaden can be the one who saves spy whumpee. Maybe the whumper can be one of the people who worked under or with Mathias. I would love a vigilante Kaden

Ohhh this is a nice concept, I like the idea of connecting stories

I just never really envisioned them in the same world I guess, so this is hard for me to see. I always imagines spy whumpee was set a bit further in the future, a bit more advanced tech and systems while the general worldbuilding concepts are the same, and kaden being set in like current day.

I guess it could work, I’ll have to sit on the idea for a while. I’ve never really envisioned Kaden like. Recovering fully I guess? And then even, I don’t think they’d ever go out of their way to get all caught up in stuff like that again

But once again, anything’s possible. Perhaps an au arc, if the story ever reaches that point? now that the idea’s in my head… Kaden could get a job with the same agency Whumpee worked for (like a solid 10-15 years after their whole whump arc), because I’m sure mathias definitely had some ties to whatever corporation Whumper worked for

Now that I think more about it, it could actually make a lot of sense. When Mathias and Kaden happened, Whumper’s company was just beginning to rise, and at that time, whoever was boss before then was in close with mathias. Mathias did something, ideas, labor, tan a separate branch of the Company, which was how he ended up all wealthy and shit

I still can’t see kaden as being the one to take on the rescue mission, but they could definitely have ties to it. They’re a bit of a bitch, I’ve always thought of them as more of a healer type than an action type. I don’t know, though, but I’m open to ideas!

I still don’t know if Whumpee’s ever going to actually like. Get rescued. But like I said, if the interest pertains in whenever it comes time to start writing a rescue arc, this is here. And AU arcs can be made so. Yeah.

[shywhumpauthor]

It’s canon Mathias pierced Kaden’s ears (probably multiple times) and then tugged on/ripped out the earrings whenever they were being annoying.