#young whumpee

[whumpy-angsty]

Young whumpee who after being rescued by their team, can't sleep without having a flashback. The silence when everyone sleeps just makes them scared. Like something is coming. Young whumpee can only sleep when the sun is up and when everyone is awake and they can hear them talk and move around.

They sleep in the living room where they can hear everyone. They get pats sometimes. Someone sits near them rubbing their feet gently. Some let them even use their laps as pillows letting their head rest there. Playing with thier hair a bit. They get plushies, a blanket covering them, and all kind of things that are cozy.

[whumppromptoftheday]

young whumpee asking whumper to go out and play in the snow, whumper locks them outside overnight

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

cw age gap, implied kidnapping, implied torture, intimate whumper, power dynamic 

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” 

They glanced at the doorway, a cigarette between their full, pink lips. They raised an eyebrow and smirked at Whumper, blowing out a cloud of smoke before replying, “What makes you think I have a bedtime?” 

Whumper smiled and leaned against the wall next to them. Leaving enough distance between them to be casual. “I don’t mind,” they said, not answering the question. “I mean, we do all ages shows for a reason. I think it’s great for kids to see live music.” 

Big, innocent eyes narrowed into a glare. “I’m eighteen, actually. But thanks for your concern.” 

Oh, this one was going to be fun. “Sorry, you just look young is all. Didn't mean to insult you—maybe we could start over? I’m Whumper.” 

“I know, I came to see your band.” Another drag on their cigarette. “I’m Whumpee.” 

Whumpee. The name suited them perfectly. Whumper could imagine saying it tauntingly as they did horrible things to Whumpee. Or whispering it as they comforted them afterwards. Whumper didn’t expect to be so lucky tonight. “Well, Whumpee,” they said, testing it out. “I haven’t seen you at any shows before, but you seem cool. There’s an after party at my place if you wanna come.” 

The kid looked hesitant. “I don’t know, I have class in the morning.” It wasn’t a no. 

They watched Whumpee stub out the cigarette on the wall behind them and flick it over the porch railing into the grass. They imagined lighting one of their own just to put it out on Whumpee’s skin. They would probably scream so beautifully as it burned into their wrist or their neck. Delicate, unmarked skin. Oh, Whumper was going to have so much fun breaking them. “Your call,” they said with a shrug before closing the space between them. “But I'd really like it if you were there.” 

Whumpee looked up at them, visibly nervous but making no move to back away. “Yeah?” they breathed, seeming to catch the unspoken implication in Whumper’s statement. 

The other people milling around outside paid them no attention as Whumper placed one of their hands on the kid’s cheek, cold from the winter air. Their nose was red, too—how cute. “Yeah—come party with the rockstars. I promise you’ll have a good time, honey.” 

What Whumper didn’t mention was that once Whumpee made it to their house, they wouldn’t be leaving. Not for a very long time, at least. 

“Okay. I'll come,” Whumpee agreed without much convincing. God, they were easy.  

Whumper smiled, tucking Whumpee’s hair behind their ear. Fingers ghosted down their neck, picturing a collar around it. Imagining how that sweet, young face would look covered in tears. “Awesome. Let me pack up my equipment and then we’ll get going.” 

[unforgivenn]

WOLLEMI DAY 7- HEAT

CW: Pet whump, Beatings mention, heat stroke, left out in the sun as a punishment, Dehydration!!, Creepy, and dominating whumper, swearing heh, Young whumpee, mental distress, fainting. A lot of it.

Caleb had never felt the heat so cruel.. It beat down upon him, scorching every inch of exposed skin. Caleb was bounded tight to a tree, heat coming in directly at him, intensifying the bruises and cuts he had just recently gotten from Dominic's hands as another punishment. The beating was still fresh in his mind. He had just managed to get on Dominic's nerves (which wasn't a new thing) when he was already in a bad mood.

Dominic had just left him outside after it as if that wasn't enough. The ropes cut into his skin, only tightening when he tried struggling. At this point he had just given up. Waiting for his captor to come and get him out of there. Maybe he would even get a cold bath if he behaved!! Caleb after realizing what he was thinking seemed disgusted by himself.

"Fuck.. That guy's getting a hold on me.." He mumbled to himself. This was all meant to be a cruel lesson in obedience. Like he was a fucking 5 year old waiting to be disciplined by his mom. He was 17 for fucks sake!!

Caleb got lost in his thoughts of killing Dominic in different ways. He tried sleeping. It didn't work. He tried screaming Dominic's name even adding a "sir" when he wouldn't hear anything back. It didn't work. He tried struggling more, as if somehow the ropes would loosen and he could run away. Guess what?? It didn't work.

It had been hours. Dehydration set in. He needed water. Badly. Dominic wasn't going to leave him here to die from Hyperthermia right?? Surely, he hadn't gotten bored of him that early.

"Sir! I-I learnt m-my lesson. Y-You can untie me now!" Caleb tried shouting, but it just came out in a raspy whisper. Dominic had long since disappeared, leaving him to suffer alone.

Hours stretched into days. Caleb kept going in and out of consciousness. Both because of his untreated injuries that burnt under the sun, and because of the lack of water and tiredness. Being tied to the tree for so long was torturous. He couldn't feel anything anymore. Was he going to die at this motherfucker's hands? Was he even alive right now? Going in and out of consciousness a lot made him question reality. What he could see was real and what was not.

Just when Caleb was about to pass out again he felt gentle hands on him. Without even thinking, he immediately leaned into the touch. He tried blinking his eyes, to see who it was but eventually gave up. He felt being picked up as he whimpered slightly narrowing his eyes. The figure just chuckled carrying him.

"You didn't really enjoy sunbathing huh? I'm surprised you're even alive after being out there for two days kitten." The figure chuckled again but all Caleb could here was the ringing in his ears, the huge headache and the way he felt nauseous and dizzy. Caleb closed his eyes almost immediately passing out again.

[iwritewhump]

"Can I go home now?" + young whumpee + captive + chains around the wrists

day 16 of @whumptember

272 words

warnings: young whumpee, being left behind/forgotten

---

Villain walks into the small room and sets a plate down in front of Sidekick. “Hungry?” 

“Can I go home now?” Sidekick asks, eyeing the plate warily. 

Villain shakes her head, “Not just yet, little one.” 

Sidekick writhes against the restraints, she stares up at Villain and cries, “Why are you doing this?” 

Villain kneels down in front of Hero and frowns, “I’m trying to teach someone a lesson.” she says, cupping Sidekick’s cheek. “He’s been too reckless with you for too long. Some day, you won’t come back.” 

Sidekick pulls away, she curls more into herself and her cheek rests on her raised arm. The cuffs groan with the added weight and the chains jangle with the movement. “He’ll be here for me before you know it. He- he’ll kick down your door and save me.” she forces a smug smile and sighs. “I know he will.” 

Villain stands and brushes the wrinkles out of her clothes, “I hope he is. But, if he isn’t…I’ll take the chains off and let you go. You have my word.” 

She turns and exits the room, leaving Sidekick alone. She waits for five hours, alone, scared, and restrained before the door opens again. 

Smiling, Sidekick pushes herself up against the wall and tries to stand, despite the restraints. “I knew you’d come for me!” 

The door pushes the rest of the way open and Villain walks back in the room. She smiles sadly and walks up to Sidekick with a key in her hand. 

“I’m sorry, kid. I wish he’d shown up for you.” She says, softly removing the cuffs from Sidekick’s worn wrists. 

[em-writes-stuff]

"please don't"

day 20 of @febuwhump

caretaker and whumpee

1095 words

warnings: implied past abuse, young whumpee

~

Caretaker jumps up when someone knocks on the door. She trips over her feet to get to the door and nearly hits her head on the handle when she gets there. She takes a deep breath and looks through the peephole, not expecting her little brother to be standing there in a bundle of thin blankets. 

She unlocks the door and looks at him. His eyes are unfocused, trained somewhere on the ground. Bruises litter his arms, legs, and what she can see of his torso. His hair is caked in mud and the curls that she took so much time to care for are dull and lifeless. His lip is split and his cheekbone bruised. Basically, he looks like he’s been thrown off a cliff. 

“Whumpee?” She asks, taking a step out onto the porch. 

He steps back on reflex, eyes focusing when he looks at her. For a second, he doesn’t recognize her. Then his eyes light with relief and he slumps forward, falling into her arms. “Caretaker.” 

She catches him, hand coming around his back to support him. “What happened?” 

He shakes his head and leans closer to her, arm wrapping tightly around her waist. “I’m fine.” 

“Ok,” she says. “We don’t have to talk about it. Let’s go inside, alright?” He nods and lets her lead him into the house. “Are you hungry? I’ve got a few microwave meals in the freezer or we could order take out.” 

She stops in the living room and peels him off of her, holding him an arms length away. “That blanket is filthy,” she says without thinking. She takes hold of it and tries to unwrap Whumpee from it, not seeing the terror in his face. 

He swats her hand away and pulls it tighter around himself. “Please,” he says, looking at the ground. “Don’t.” 

Caretaker nods and backs away, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

She clears her throat and shifts her feet. “So…dinner?” 

Whumpee looks up from the ground and nods. Caretaker smiles softly and turns into the kitchen. “Ok, I’ve got white cheddar macaroni and cheese or beef ravioli. Which do you want?” 

She walks out of the kitchen, both boxes in hand and holds them out to him. He looks at the boxes and shrugs, “Whichever you don’t want.” 

She laughs and turns the boxes toward her, “I bought them both, so I want both of them.” Whumpee’s face falls and she quickly comes up with a solution. “How about I cook both of them, see which one I want then, and bring the other one out to you. We can eat on the couch like we used to when you’d stay home sick from school? Maybe turn on an old movie?” 

He forces a smile and nods, “That sounds nice.” 

She beams and turns back into the kitchen. “I’ll put these in now. You’ve got enough time to go and change if you want to. I know it’s been a while…but you’ve slimmed down so you might fit in your old clothes again.” 

He stands there for a second before walking down the hallway to his old room. 

There’s dust on the handle when he turns it and the door squeaks open. He walks into his room and turns the lamp on, then turns it off when he sees the dust covering it. The door doesn’t quite close, so he does his best before walking over to the window and opening the blinds, letting the afternoon sun filter in. 

Caretaker tiptoes down the hallway and peeks into Whumpee’s room. He’s standing in front of the window with his eyes closed. He’d dropped the blanket and Caretaker turns around, guilty that she would invade Whumpee’s privacy like that. She takes a deep breath and knocks softly on the door. “Hey, there’s about two minutes left. You almost ready?��� She can hear him shuffling around in the room and nods to herself. “Just come out when you’re done, ok? I’ll pull a movie up and be on the couch.” 

There’s a sound of confirmation from him and she turns back down the hallway and into the living room. She picks up the remote and scrolls through the channels before finding something that she and Whumpee used to watch all the time. She clicks on it and turns the volume up. 

The microwave beeps and she hurries into the kitchen to take it out before it beeps again. It burns her hand and she drops it, cursing softly to herself. 

The red sauce splatters all over the floor and nearby cabinets. She curses and picks up the ravioli with her fingers, dropping them back in the bowl. Her fingertips burn by the time she’s done, so she runs her hand under cool water for a minute while she digs through a drawer with the other hand, looking for a washcloth. She runs the cloth under the water and wrings it out in the sink. 

The sauce didn’t have time to dry, so it comes up easily, only staining the rug in front of the sink. She rinses the rag out and hangs it on the faucet, then pulls two forks out of the sink to wash. 

She can hear Whumpee’s footsteps in the living room and yells over to him, “I’m almost done! Just need to wash silverware and I’ll be out! Get comfortable, I think there’s a blanket in the cabinet!” 

He doesn’t respond, but she can hear the cabinet open and something fall out. 

“You ok?” She asks, tilting back to look into the living room. 

Whumpee’s stood in front of the cabinet, eyes locked on whatever fell. He’s in long sleeves and sweatpants, both of which pool around him. 

“Whumpee?” 

His head snaps up to look at her and he nods, “Yeah, just…scared me is all.” 

She smiles and dries the forks off with a towel, then sticks them in the bowls and walks to the living room. 

“You get macaroni tonight.” she says, holding the bowl out to him. “Careful, it’s hot.” 

He takes it and picks up a blanket from the floor. Wrapping it around himself, he sits on the couch and scoots back into the corner of it, knees drawn up to his chest. 

Caretaker looks at him and bites her cheek, debating what to do. She decides to pick up a blanket and sit on the other side of the couch, leg extended so it’s almost touching Whumpee. 

For a second, he stares at it, but then turns his attention back to the food. 

[chaotic-orphan]

Could you write a story where a king who outlawed magical beings (like fae, elves, sorcerers, etc Bc they’ve tried to kill him multiple times ) has a trial for a young magical creature found in his lands, but the creature isn’t evil, didn’t even KNOW they were trespassing, and is terrified they’re gonna be executed or tortured or something. But the king doesn’t hurt it, since the magical being didn’t mean any harm? Could turn into found family or he just lets it go or something

Love ur writing!!

A Benignant Mischief

@annablogsposts THIS ASK HAS CONSUMED MY EVERY WAKING THOUGHT SINCE I GOT IT! IN THE MIDST OF FEBUWHUMP NO DOUBT! THE GALL, THE NERVE!!!! I must say, this idea has taken hold of a good chunk of my brain and I have just been obsessed with Cosimo and Henrik (who will be introduced in part two), I hope you love them as much as I do. There is far more than this part written, but I had to divide it up to get some of it published so you didn't think it was just collecting dust in my inbox.

Thank you so much for this ask, it has rekindled an obsession with writing plot that isn't exclusively whump?! If that makes sense. I hope you enjoy it!

*~*~*~*~*

Cosimo ran through the forest with a sharp urgency, an unconscious boy cradled close to his chest as he went. The rain pattered down on his head as he ran, bare feet clawing at the ground to keep his grip. To an onlooker he could have been running on plain terrain instead over the wiry and rough forest, leaves slick with water; as if he were one with the Earth; knew every root, every nettle and broken tree bows that he hopped over with graceful ease.

His sharp eyes searched the forest frantically, pleading for a shelter to open up to them. Ahead was a wooden fence, tree branches crisscrossing before him like a blockade. Cosimo bowed his head and turned to the side, curling his upper body around the smaller one in his arms. Branches snapped and scratched at him as he pushed his way through with a determined resolve.

When he finally emerged from the branches, he found what he knew would be waiting for him. A small burrow made in a circle of trees, an opening in the trunk of a thick elfbow tree, the size of three fully grown oaks. A shelter mercifully presenting itself. Cosimo let out a soft sigh and whispered a soft thank you to the forest for providing.

His limbs grew heavier and heavier the closer he got to rest, but he walked on, slower now but just as strong as he was when he set out from court. He lay the boy in his arms down on a bed of leaves for the moment under the shelter of the elfbow. Cosimo touched the trunk as he entered, his heart feeling full as he did.

“Thank you protecting us,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to the entrance. Then he pressed his knuckles against the unconscious boy’s forehead, letting out a soft sigh. He was okay. Not as hot as he was before. Cosimo would gather food and herbs tomorrow to help the fever, but at least he was stable for now.

Cosimo took off his pack that he had hastily gathered from home. Two blankets, two pillows, a canteen of water, a hunting knife — just the essentials.

“The very bare necessities, Cosimo,” Cosimo chastised himself with a sigh, running a hand through his soaked hair flicking the rain from it. Cosimo put a pillow under the boy’s head and wrapped him in a blanket to keep him warm. Cosimo sat with back against the trunk of the tree, arms wrapped around his knees that he hugged to his chest and just watched the rain patted down on leaves outside the elfbow. The gloomy grey of the evening bled into a darker, broodier grey but the rain let up before night fell with its coat of deep purples and midnight blues.

Cosimo didn’t know at what point he fell asleep, but he woke to footsteps cracking the leaves beneath its feet and he was immediately alert. His hand shot and grabbed the hunting knife, unsheathing it and lunging forward teeth bared.

He came face to snout with a fox that was frozen in place, brown eyes meeting Cosimo’s with a slightly dazed and stunned glimmer to them. Cosimo let out a breath that reflected on the air with a rolling wave of smoke, before settling back into the nook-like shelter of the elfbow. The fox didn’t retreat, instead he sniffed the air and timidly took a step towards Cosimo and the unconscious boy beside him.

Cosimo inclined his head slightly and the fox entered the elfbow with all the inquisitiveness of a cat trying to sniff out the source of fish. The fox turned his head to the boy, and glancing back at Cosimo quickly for permission he curled up on the unconscious boy’s chest. Curling into a little ball on top of him, deep brown eyes meeting Cosimo’s again before closing half-lidded.

Emotion clogged Cosimo’s throat as he reached out to pet the fox, allowing the animal to sniff his hand before allowing the affection.

“See?” Cosimo whispered to the air. “You’re not nobody. You’re like me.”

Cosimo didn’t sleep exactly, but he at least got some semblance of rest before Dawn broke and he woke with it. He looked down at the sleeping boy, who was still asleep, the fox now curled up to the boy’s side. Cosimo reached his hand out and brushed the boy’s hair back from his forehead to feel it.

He was warm, not too hot. Maybe the fever had passed with the rain? Cosimo didn’t know enough about it, but he knew the rejuvenation powers of rain that came with him so he suspected maybe it could be the saviour of the boy too.

Cosimo drank some water from the canteen before grabbing the empty rucksack he took with him and slinging it over his shoulder across his body. He took the water and the hunting knife and set off about the day. When he exited the elfbow the sun was only starting to rise, birds heralding the morning.

Cosimo looked back to the sleeping boy and the fox. He pressed his hand to the tree and leaned his forehead into the back of his palm.

Protect them, please. I’ll return with food.

Cosimo felt the rush of feeling that flooded him when he felt around nature. Then he turned and walked out of the small clearing and into the embrace of the forest again. He remembered hearing running water when he was running with the boy, the sound distinct from the patter of the rain.

The dense woods were not nearly as imposing as they were the night before, when Cosimo’s thoughts were on finding shelter and nothing else. There should be some mushrooms nearby he could roast, maybe some berry bushes if he was lucky and water. Not enough to feed them properly, but to sustain them? It would be enough.

Cosimo found the stream under a thicket of leaves. It was slightly lower than the ground that Cosimo was on, so he simply extended a leg and slid down the bank to the stream, opening his canteen as he went. His feet settled into the damp earth, and he crouched down to refill the canteen. Not before drinking the last of the remaining water.

He heard a huff from his left so Cosimo glanced towards the sound and saw a horse lapping up water from the stream. Cosimo froze like the fox had the night before, before kicking himself into action. He sprung up, canteen forgotten in the stream and bolted back up the bank, his fingers clawing into the clay.

He scrambled to the top and was met with a pair of legs. There was a flash and a pressure on his chest and Cosimo was airborne, gravity grabbing at him and bringing him down hard into the outer bank of the stream. Cosimo let out a gasp of air on impact but quickly sprung to his feet and turned to hop the stream to the other side.

A hand grabbed him by the strap of his rucksack, and he was yanked backwards. “Hey! Wait!” Cosimo cried, bringing an elbow back sharply and his head back too. He slipped under the strap of his bag and grabbed the hunting knife and hopped the stream with ease. He didn’t look back.

Humans were bad. They killed people like him, there shouldn’t even be any for miles around!

Cosimo climbed up the opposite bank of earth with deft speed and hoisted himself to the other side, knife ready in one hand, the sheath in his other with one thought and one thought only — to go back to the boy in the elfbow.

He didn’t account for more soldiers to be on the other side of the stream. Cosimo froze again when he was first recognised by another man. They were all fully grown humans. Cosimo had yet to pass his fifteenth year, at least he had a slight boost in height, but he was too skinny to fight.

There wasn’t time to think before a hand was bunched in his shirt again. Cosimo whirled on his heel, slashing out blindly with the knife. The blade cut into the soldier’s cheek Cosimo realised with wide eyes, and the Soldier let him go. Cosimo fell to the side at the sudden lack of force holding him, but quickly got his bearings again and ran to the right of the soldier’s camp.

An arrow whizzed by his ear, startling him and Cosimo lunged to the left only to be caught with a kick to his leg. Cosimo stumbled but remained standing, turning to his new attacker baring his teeth only to get a punch to the face. Cosimo’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell, stiff as an oak onto the forest floor.

A boot stomped down onto Cosimo’s wrist wielding the knife and Cosimo cried out, reaching over with his free hand to paw at the boot but it wouldn’t budge. A knee to the chest followed and Cosimo cried out, trying to wiggle himself free but the human was too heavy. Whether his weight was from his diet or the weight of the uniform of metal that the man wore Cosimo didn’t know.

“Well, well, well,” the human man remarked. Cosimo swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling to free himself from the man’s pin. “You’re only a baby, aren’t you?”

Cosimo bared his teeth in response. They were so close to where Cosimo had left the boy and the fox, and he prayed that the elfbow would protect them from the soldiers.

“Let go of me,” Cosimo demanded, eyes blazing up at the man. The man smiled, something wicked twinkling in his eyes.

“Have you run away from home? You do know what we do to your people in these parts, don’t you?”

Cosimo let out a cry of frustration at trying and failing pathetically to free himself from the man’s grip.

“Please,” Cosimo said. “I don’t mean you any harm. I was just coming for water.”

“Won’t do harm my arse,” the soldier that Cosimo cut ground out, fury winding his features tight. Cosimo didn’t see him lift his leg, but his head whipped to the side with the impact. Cosimo righted his head too early as the man he injured stomped a foot down on Cosimo’s face.

Cosimo heard the bones in his nose crack inside his head while he screamed out loud, a quiet whimper following after his scream died in his throat.

“Hey!” The soldier pinning Cosimo growled. “You can’t kill it. They must be brought to court before their execution.”

Execution?

Cosimo’s struggles to break free renewed at the thoughts of the soldiers taking him away from the boy. “No! No, you can’t! I can’t leave the forest, please!”

The man above him tilted his lips down into a frown. “Sorry kid. Orders are orders, we have to bring ya in.”

“Don’t talk to it like it’s a child,” the angry soldier scolded. The man on top of him reached over and plucked the knife from Cosimo’s grip. Cosimo let out a soft whine at the object of his defence leaving his grasp.

“Just get the irons and let me deal with h—” the man above him said, then corrected himself, glancing down at Cosimo with a frown. “It.”

The angry man stormed off out of sight. Cosimo just stared above at the man still pining him to the forest floor.

“Please…” Cosimo tried. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Like I said kid,” said the man. “There has to be a trial in front of the king.”

Cosimo’s eyes widened significantly. There wasn’t a king for miles around court… how far had Cosimo travelled, and in what direction? The question lingered on his tongue, and he wanted to voice it, but thought better of asking the enemy… or even worse, letting them know just how clueless Cosimo really was.

The man stared down at Cosimo with a stern glance. “I’m going to get you to sit up, if you try to escape, we will catch you, and the other soldiers will hurt you again. Do you understand?”

Cosimo nodded. He hated himself for it, but he had to listen to this man. He seemed to be the only one who didn’t want him dead at that moment. The angry soldier returned with two bands of metal attached together with a thick link of metal between them.

“What— what are they?” Cosimo asked, his voice cracking with fear. The soldier helped Cosimo to sit up which caused a wicked amount of pain in his nose to flare up and Cosimo grunted with the effort.

The man took the metal from the angry soldier and dismissed him with a wave. The other soldier didn’t want to listen but obeyed the man when he told him to go verbally.

The man opened the metal loop and showed it to Cosimo, saying with a reassuring smile: “They open like this, see?”

Cosimo leaned in closer to inspect the metal. “What do they do?” He asked, a little less scared at seeing them up close. The man lifted his hand and put the metal over his own wrist.

“They tighten over your wrist like this, see? They lock— well, they essentially keep your hands tied behind your back so you can’t hurt someone again.”

Not have use of his hands. Cosimo shook his head vehemently. “No. No. I won’t hurt anyone else; I promise. Don’t put them on me.”

The man’s smile faded back into a frown. “I’m sorry, but I have to. Please don’t fight me. I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

Cosimo was trembling in the man’s hands, but he nodded his consent for the man to grab Cosimo’s wrist. Cosimo screamed when the metal touched his wrist and bolted back away from the man.

“Wait! Please! Please! Wait! Ow, please! I won’t hurt anyone!” The man caught Cosimo’s ankle before he could get further away from him and dragged him back. “Please don’t. Please! I’ll be good.”

A shadow crossed the man’s face as he grabbed Cosimo’s arm and pulled it behind Cosimo’s back before locking the second cuff around Cosimo’s wrist.

Cosimo let out a hiss as the metal burned a circle around his wrists, tears coming to his eyes. “Please, I’m sorry. Take them off. I’m sorry. What— agh! What is it?!”

The man grabbed Cosimo’s arms to stop him struggling more and hurting himself. “Iron. It’s a metal that is poisonous to your kind.”

“Please,” Cosimo whispered, the plea coming out soft and childish, fat tears trailing down his cheeks. “Please take them off.”

“I can’t,” said the man. “I’m sorry,” and it sounded like he meant it. The man then got to his feet and waited patiently for Cosimo to do the same. Cosimo pushed himself up, his balance going off and he hissed as he moved his hands to catch himself. All they touched was iron and it burned. The man put a hand under Cosimo’s armpits once he saw the boy struggling and helped him into a standing position.

“Thank you,” Cosimo said, the words like ash on his tongue. Thanking humans now? What would court think of him? His mind trailed back to the boy in the elfbow and guilt flood his body as he was pushed forward gently by the man.

“Change of plan, boys. We are bringing this one back to the King.”

One of the other men stood up, his face the shape of a weasels; small wisps of hair clung to his upper lip and chin in what Cosimo could only assume was supposed to be a beard and a moustache. The soldier lifted his nose high in the air when he looked up at Cosimo, grinning up at him and revealing yellowing teeth.

“It’s not even fully grown,” said the soldier with a high-pitched voice. The nice man holding Cosimo scoffed and pushed Cosimo forward again.

“Either are you, McClagen.”

“Does it know that we kill things like that?” McClagen sneered. The man didn’t reply, but Cosimo’s fate weighed heavy on him, heavier than a cloak made of stone. He frowned as the nice man led him passed the other Soldiers readying to take off again.

—

Continued here

[esperosisdoeswriting]

Accursed, Chapter 1

Accursed lives rent free in my brain and has ever since I wrote it, I like to go back to it every once in a while and, when I did recently, I thought I myself “Yes Chapter 1 is good, but I’ve improved a ton since then (literally wrote an entire book lol) so I can do so much better now” as such I decided to rewrite the entire first Part/Chapter and I’m so much more happy with it now. Deffo gives the vibe I’m going for as-well as better incorporates a few plot elements and showcases personalities of our two main characters better. Overall, I like it quite a lot!

BE WARNED, Accursed deals with some very heavy topics and themes, please read the content warnings and be advised! This is a Supernatural/Psychological Horror with a child protagonist, so… yeah that should tell you a bit. BUT also keep in mind the main theme of Accursed is hope and overcoming adversity, so while there is darkness, there is no despair (if that makes sense)

Enjoy 2.5k words that turned into 7.2k words!

CW: Child Abuse (Minor), Threats of Violence against children, Referenced past violence against a child (There is no explicit violence against a child in this chapter), Religion (used somewhat as a coping mechanism), discussion of Suicide (and its relationship with Religion)

Tags: @sunflower-searching-light

The glass was shattered. Mom had broken it a while ago, delicate things never really lasted very long near her, or him, or anywhere. Lucas never really understood the

purpose in making things that broke so easily. If they could break they would, and then they were useless.

It didn’t really make sense to Lucas, but not a lot of things did.

Lucas stared more at the glass than his reflection in it as he sat on the bathroom counter. The soap was almost gone, he’d climbed on the counter to see if the cabinet with the mirror had any more in it, the cabinets below didn’t.

Lucas wasn’t quite sure how to open the mirrored cabinet, it didn’t have a handle like normal ones did. He didn’t ask mom, she was very tired lately and he didn’t want to upset her from having to see his face.

He looked at his reflection and wondered what it was about his face that caused so much pain and hardship. Mom hated seeing it, and anytime one of things that weren’t supposed to exist saw it they swarmed in and stuck to him like glue or a leech.

His face looked normal to him at least.

Two eyes, though he couldn’t see the right one since pieces of glass had fallen revealing the dark board underneath. He didn’t need to see it though, he knew it was the same light green as his left.

Dark cracks spiderwebbed across his pale skin, but when he touched his face he found it smooth and whole. His hair was short light brown, even though his mom’s was blonde. Maybe that was it, he had dad’s hair color and that’s why mom hated him and the things cursed him and tormented them both.

He always hated Dad, it made sense Mom would hate him for being related to the man.

Something moved in the darkness of the bathroom behind him and Lucas couldn’t be bothered to scream or cry or run away. It was tiring being scared all the time, so he just climbed down from the sink as the slinking creature followed him into his bedroom.

---------------------------

“Everything's going to be better now, you hear?” Mom told him as they drove too fast down the dark country road. “It was the city,” she hissed, “It was a- a- a cesspool of those monsters, those things. They grew and- and spawned in every darkened corner and dumpster filled with garbage. But not here baby! Not here! They can’t follow us out into good ol’ nature.”

Mom laughed as she petted Lucas’ hair, refusing to look at her as Lucas blankly stared out the window.

It wasn’t going to be any better. Lucas knew that the moment he saw the glowing yellow eyes staring at them from just beyond the tree line. He knew that the moment he heard the odd bump coming from the trunk of the van where something had crawled in. He knew it in the way Mom cried as she tried to reassure both of them.

He didn’t tell her it wasn’t going to get any better. But something told him that she knew it anyway as they finally arrived at the old cabin in the woods, far away from anyone that could hurt them.

Far away from anyone they could call to for help.

-----------------------

Mom was screaming down stairs again and hitting things, probably fighting the winged thing with mouths for eyes Lucas noticed nesting on top of the refrigerator earlier. He didn’t bother going down to help her. She could manage fine on her own and she was more likely to just start hitting him with the broom and screaming than she was to thank him.

Not like he could do much anyway.

Maybe, when he was older, he would be able to help Mom, when he was ten, or twelve, or sixteen. He could sit mom down, tell her it was all going to be okay while he took up the broom and caved the god-forsaken thing’s skull in. But he was eight, and his hands were small and the broom was too heavy.

He was useless really. Mom was right to hate him, it was his fault she was suffering like this.

Mom kept screaming as more bangs rang throughout the cabin.

Lucas felt the bed dip near him. He didn’t bother looking up.

“Lucas” the thing that had climbed in his window cooed to him. Lucas was fairly sure he’d closed it earlier, something must have opened it. Maybe he could get some kind of lock?

“Lucas,” the creature continued to hum as it slithered closer to him, finally coming to rest in the small space between Lucas’ back and the bedroom wall.

“What?” Lucas asked as he continued to read.

“Aren’t you tired Lucas?” the creature asked.

Lucas frowned at that as he finally looked up and over his shoulder at the creature, they didn’t usually talk this much. Just cooed and hummed and screamed his name while they tried to drag him away or tear him to pieces.

The thing was pale, its skin was white and sort of translucent, Lucas was fairly sure he could see whatever counted as muscles the thing had. It sort of reminded Lucas of a squid or that weird blobfish thing he’d seen on TV one time. It looked soft and sort of slimy, its seven eyes were beady and as pitch black as its side-ways mouth with rows of sharp, needle-like teeth.

Lucas’ frown deepened, not the weirdest or scariest looking monster he’d seen, but he really didn’t like how close it was. He didn’t want it getting slime all over him. “What do you mean? It’s the middle of the day.”

“No Lucas,” the creature whispered. “You don’t run anymore, you don’t scream or call out to your mother or even cry when you see us. You’re tired.”

Lucas turned back around to look at the book in his lap, “It’s exhausting. Not like it does anything anyway.”

“Yes Lucas,” the thing hummed in delight. “Don’t you want it to stop?”

“Obviously,” Lucas turned the page carefully, it was so thin the light from the window shown through it and the book itself was old. Lucas didn’t want to rip it.

“We can make it stop, you can make it stop. Don’t you want your mother to not have to suffer anymore?” the creature cooed into Lucas’ ear.

Lucas sat still, frozen for a moment, his hand still turning the page as silence fell between the both of them. His mom kept screaming downstairs.

“How?” Lucas asked as he finally resumed his movement and finished turning the page.

“Come with me Lucas, there's a place I can take you, and it’ll all be over.”

“Why do I have to go anywhere?” Lucas glanced back at the thing, “I just want you and your friends to stop coming here.”

“Because Lucas, you have to die,” the creature told him and Lucas tensed.

“Why?” Lucas scowled, “I thought you said you were going to stop and now you’re saying you’re going to kill me?”

“I’m sorry Lucas, but there is no way out of this where you live,” the creature spoke, its voice a mockery of sympathy. “You must die, but your mother will live. Your mother will be free and happy, don’t you want that Lucas? Neither of you will suffer anymore.”

Lucas brought his thumb up to his mouth and slotted his fingernail between his teeth, “ ‘Wherefore let them that suffer according to the will of God commit the keeping of their souls to him in well doing, as unto a faithful Creator’, “ Lucas mumbled, “Peter 4:19.”

“What?’ the creature asked.

“S’the bible,” Lucas took his thumb from his mouth as he blankly stared at the floor ahead of him. He closed the book and lifted it to show the creature his worn copy of the Bible. He’d read it more times then he could count, it was one of the only things he had.

“...Right,” the creature nodded, “Do you believe in heaven?”

“I don’t know,” Lucas admitted, “It’s nice to think about. That after this I’ll get to go to heaven with Mom, and everything will be okay.”

“Then why don’t we take you there a bit sooner,” the creature hummed. “Why wait and suffer as you do? When you can go to that wonderful place now and wait for your mother to join you?”

“I don’t want to go to Hell,” Lucas admitted as he held his Bible.

“Why would you go to Hell?” the monster asked, “You are blameless and without sin in this situation. Besides, I doubt children go to hell.”

Lucas shook his head, “Babies go to hell all the time, that's what the Bible said. If i kill myself I’ll go to hell, besides I’m not even baptised.”

The creature seemed to flounder at that, “We… We can baptize you on the way?”

“But it won’t matter if I kill myself,” Lucas bit his finger nail again, “ ‘And call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and though shalt glorify me.’ Psalm 50:15.”

“We’ll kill you Lucas,” the creature assured him, “that isn’t suicide.”

“Yes it is,” Lucas hunched in on himself, “Because I’ll be going with you willingly! If I go with you I’m willing! And if I’m willing it’s suicide and I’ll go to Hell!” Lucas gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to go to Hell. He really, really didn’t want to go to Hell. That was his worst nightmare. He wasn’t even sure if he believed Hell existed honestly, but even just the concept of it scared him so deeply he didn’t want to risk it, not even for a moment.

Because if this was what life was like, what was hell going to be like?

The creature fell silent at that and the sound of his mother’s struggles with the monster down stairs finally ended.

“We’ll give you some time to think about it Lucas, the offer is still on the table, if it ever becomes too much. We’ll make sure you are baptized on the way to your final resting place,” the creature finally replied.

Lucas didn’t look as it slithered out the window.

-----------------------

Mom was sick, she could barely get off the couch most days and Lucas was fairly sure she’d stopped trying. Lucas made his way over to her with the scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice he’d put together. He was good at using the stove and hardly ever burned himself.

Mom glared at him as he handed her the tray, her gaze was distant and full of hate and disgust. Lucas tilted his head down, hoping maybe if she didn’t have to see his face as clearly she wouldn’t be as upset about it.

“You’re a curse Lucas,” she hissed as she stabbed the eggs too hard. “This is all your fault. None of this shit happened untill you were born.”

“I’m sorry mom,” Lucas told her as he worried the hem of his shirt.

That only seemed to make Mom more upset, “You’re sorry? You’re sorry?! What the hell does sorry do for me, huh? Will you being sorry make the monsters leave me alone?!”

“No,” Lucas wilted further.

“Then what use are you? Huh! Tell me what use you are!” Mom raged at him.

“I’m not,” Lucas stared at the ground, “I-”

“Get out of my face you god damn brat,” she hissed at him as she turned her attention back to her food.

Lucas quickly padded away from his mom and up the staircase, muttering to himself over and over “ ‘This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles.’ Psalm 34:6.”

God did not hear him. God did not save him from his troubles.

Maybe God wasn’t real, or maybe Mom was right, and God had damned him after all.

-----------------

When Lucas walked down the stairs, ready to make Mom her breakfast, only to find her dead on the couch, he couldn’t even manage to find it in himself to be surprised. He didn’t know how she died, probably the illness, but at least her face looked peaceful.

She likely didn’t feel any pain, and that was something Lucas could feel grateful for.

“She’s in heaven now,” the same creature from before spoke from where it sat in the sliding glass doorway next to the couch with Mom’s body on it.

“If it exists,” Lucas agreed.

“Don’t you want to join her?” the creature asked.

“Yes.”

“Then come with me,” the creature extended one of its tentacles with its deformed and boneless hands at the end. “We can reunite you with your mother Lucas.”

Lucas looked at his mother’s peaceful face and shook his head, “If I go with you, I’ll never see her again.”

The creature sighed, “Then we’ll give you more time then. But don’t wait too long Lucas, starvation is an awful way to go.”

Lucas kept his eyes on his mother as the creature once more slithered out of his home. She was gone. Mom was dead and gone and maybe in heaven with God, if they existed. It was a nice thought, that there was a Heaven and a God that would make sure to deliver him from his troubles, that would ensure everything would be okay at the end. But Lucas wasn’t sure of anything, how could he be? He didn’t understand anything, not really.

There was only thing he was sure of, and that's that he couldn’t just leave Mom here, she deserved better than rotting on the couch.

It took the better part of an hour to find and drag the shovel from the rickety shed in the backyard and then use it to start digging the hole. Lucas was pretty sure he heard that graves needed to be six feet deep, but he wasn’t exactly sure how deep it was. He didn’t have a ruler, and he wasn’t sure where to find one, so he decided to just dig the hole a little deeper than he was tall.

It took hours as the sun crept along the sky and soon to be grave dirt coated his clothes and skin. The monsters didn’t help or hinder, just silently watched him from behind the trees and even one was perched on the roof, staring down at him. He ignored them, the shovel was too heavy to use as a weapon and there were a lot of them.

Lucas huffed and gasped and grunted and recited bible verses under his breath as he dug. It was exhausting, and by the end he was about ready to collapse from exertion as he sat at the edge of the shoddy grave, his feet dangling into the hole.

He liad back for a moment, catching his breath and staring absently into the bright blue sky, watching as puffy white clouds drifted by aimlessly. It felt weird. His mom was dead, and yet it was nice outside. Nice puffy clouds and bright blue sky, he’d seen the same clouds in those paintings with happy people at the beach or on a picnic or kissing in big dresses.

Today wasn’t a happy day, didn’t the world know his mom was dead?

Lucas didn’t understand anything, he knew it was probably because he was a very very stupid boy, but it didn’t change anything.

His legs were dangling in his mom’s grave and the world was happily chirping along. Maybe if he had gone with the monsters mom would be alive right now. But she isn’t. She’s dead, and there's no bringing her back.

Lucas wouldn’t want to even if he could.

He sat back up, there was nothing to do but sit back up really, and he carefully made his way back inside. He hesitated at the doorway, he was a mess, covered in dirt and roots and sweat. Mom would be upset if he made the house all messy.

Right. Mom’s dead.

He took his shoes off anyway.

As carefully as he could he pulled his mom off the couch and gasped as she tumbled to the floor in a heap. He winced as his hand fluttered about and a low whine escaped his throat.

“Ah, s-sorry mom, I just need to get you to your grave,” he fretted as he grabbed her arm and started to pull.

He was weak, but mom had wasted away long before she’d died. It took a long, long time of heaving and pulling and moving only tiny little bits, but he finally managed to pull her out of the house and to her final resting place.

He wished he was big and strong, he wished he could lower her into her grave properly, but all he could really manage was bracing his legs against the ground and pushing her with all his might until she rolled into the dirt hole he’d dug for her.

It was clumsy and far less than she deserved and Lucas knew he was a bad son for doing it and so many more things, but it was all he could offer her now.

Lucas stood on shaking legs at his mother’s corpse laid in the dirt. Lucas sucked in a breath and tried to stay strong, tried to be strong, tried to me anything beside the weak, useless thing he was. But as tears began to roll down his cheeks, too many and too large for him to wipe away he couldn’t help but cry out for his mother.

“Mom, I’m s-sorry,” Lucas wept, “I’m sorry I was bad, that I couldn’t be better. I tried, I really did! I know it’s not… I know it doesn't matter because it didn’t work, because I was still bad, but I love you. I love you so much and I hope you’re happy in heaven.”

Lucas ran inside and knew he was failing his mom once more by failing to properly put her to rest.

-------------------

The pale squid monster was right, starvation was really awful.

It had been around a month now since mom had died, her body laid properly to rest with a shabby bundle of tied sticks marking her grave. It was less than she deserved but Lucas didn’t know how to make a proper grave stone and he was too tired and weak to grab a big rock.

Everything hurt.

It hurt when he moved, it still hurt when he lied down and kept still. He’s been trying to ration his food out, that's what the people on TV did when they went camping. This was kinda like camping, right? Just instead of a tent he had the cabin and instead of a few days it was a few weeks.

It would be okay. He’d figure something out.

Anything less was suicide.

He knew the way back to town. Well, sort of. He knew the road that led away from the cabin would eventually lead him back to town since it was just the one road and there weren’t any splits or anything like that. So if he followed the road he’d get back to town.

That was something he figured out almost immediately, what he was stuck on was how he was going to actually get there.

He couldn’t drive and he couldn’t call anyone to come get him, mom had broken the spinny phone throwing it at a monster and the plastic had broken apart. That left walking which… Lucas really didn’t want to do.

The monsters had been surprisingly idle for the past month. Squid came by every day to ask if Lucas was ready to come with it yet, and everyday Lucas refused. Lucas didn’t really understand much but, if he was smarter, he might have said the thing was starting to look nervous, or at least an imitation of it.

Lucas could only guess that meant he was going to starve to death soon, but Lucas wasn’t sure why that made the squid nervous since it wanted him dead anyway, so what does the method or place matter?

Then again, Lucas didn’t really understand much of anything, so he was probably wrong.

But regardless, the monsters hadn’t really bothered him, just leaving him alone to slowly starve to death in peace, or what Lucas could count as peace.

Lucas got the distinct impression that leaving the house and starting along the road would very quickly end that peace however. The monsters’ soulless eyes stared at him from the treeline and Lucas knew that if he came close, they’d snatch him up and take him by force wherever Squid wanted him to go.

But he couldn’t do that, because if he willingly went over to them knowing they’d snatch him up, then it’d be just as bad as if he decided to go with Squid.

He just had… He just had to figure out how to get to town safely. Soon, preferably.

He was… He was really hungry.

----

Lucas watched as the sun finally set over the tops of the trees, the long shadows finally bridging the long gap of the backyard and reaching the back of the cabin. Lucas was nearly out of food, only a sparse few bags of chips and frozen bags of vegetables left, but that wasn’t what Lucas was worried about at the moment.

Squid had looked pleased this morning, smug even, if Lucas was interpreting it’s expressions right. He probably wasn’t, he wasn’t very smart and he didn’t really understand much. Lucas didn’t really understand why it was so pleased.

But then he saw it, and he understood.

What lurked beyond the trees, staring at the house since the late afternoon was by far the largest monster he’d ever seen. It was larger than mom’s van with pure white fur and red eyes that seemed to stare directly into Lucas’ soul even from the distance between them.

Lucas swallowed hard and hid the first time he saw it, making sure he wasn’t in sight of any of the windows as he trembled in terror.

Something about that thing was different to the rest, and that difference sparked the terror Lucas was so sure had long died back into an inferno. This thing wasn’t normal, not even by monster standards, that much was obvious just by looking at it. The way it moved, the way it stared, the way Lucas got the distinct feeling it was waiting patiently for… something.

That thing was smart.

Squid was able to fake being smart pretty well since it could talk, but it wasn’t really, Lucas got the feeling it was just being told what to say by something else. Then again, Lucas didn’t understand much, so he was probably wrong.

But the large White creature, with its wolf-like face and large clawed front arms, that thing Lucas knew deep down in his soul was actually smart, much smarter than he was.

It was going to take him away, and with its size Lucas would be powerless to stop it.

But he had to try, anything less would be suicide.

So as the shadows finally touched the house he retrieved his final defense from the kitchen cabinet.

Mom, when she was still mom, always wanted him not to play with fire. Fire was dangerous and could burn you badly, even kill you. Lucas had always kept her words in mind, he always kept everything his real mom told him in mind, and had been very careful with fire and the stove. He wanted to be a good son.

Now, he was going to be a very bad son.

He reached into the cabinet and pulled out the gasoline canister and match book he’d left in there when he’d found it two weeks ago. He wasn’t sure how well fire would do against that thing, but it was covered in fur, so Lucas figured it would at least slow the creature down, hopefully long enough for Lucas to escape.

If not, then, at least he tried.

Lucas peaked out the sliding glass door, making sure to hold the canister and matches out of sight of the glass.

The thing was walking across the backyard.

Lucas felt his heart pound in his chest as he practically jumped out of view. It was show time it seemed. Lucas backed away from the door, his eyes locked on the glass as he fumbled with the canister lid. He’d pour the gasoline on the carpet between them, then set it on fire, then he’d use the fire as a distraction and he’d climb out the kitchen window behind him.

He could- He could do this.

Lucas tensed as a large shadow loomed from behind the glassdoor and Lucas prepared himself for the glass to shatter. He’d need to be quick, the thing probably wasn’t very fast, but neither was Lucas.

But then, to Lucas' shock and mild horror, the glass door began to smoothly slide open as the creature used one massive claw to open the door. Lucas froze in shock as the large clawed hand, covered in white fur with four fingers and a thumb gingerly pressed down into the carpet before it, the creature's head following quickly after.

Surprise and confusion locked Lucas’ body in place as the figure’s form seemed to almost bend and contort in a way that looked almost natural as it shrunk in order to fit through the door, comfortably fitting in Lucas’ living room even as it towered over him. But what most confused Lucas and stopped him from acting was the expression on the things’ face.

Lucas imagined that the thing would be snarling and growling at him, or maybe smiling and cackling as it tormented Lucas and prevented his escape. But no, the thing’s face seemed completely calm, even neutral as its bright crimson eyes stared at Lucas, cold and calculating.

Lucas gripped his canister tighter as he shakily lifted it up in front of him, “D-Don’t move.”

The creature stopped moving, silently staring down at him, frozen in place as it sat in front of him.

Lucas trembled, “I… I’m going to, ah, I’m going to leave now. Don’t… Don’t follow me, or, or I’ll set you on fire!”

“That’s a good idea,” the creature hummed and Lucas felt his mind catch alight. The creature’s mouth didn’t move as it spoke, and yet he could hear the thing’s unnaturally deep voice echoing off the walls of his mind. Lucas felt his breath catch in his throat at the sound.

“The fire, that is,” it continued, “Fire is usually a safe bet for trying to kill something you don’t understand, it certainly helped out all the humans the first time.”

“The… first time?” Lucas asked.

The monster lifted its massive hand and waved it dismissively, “Don’t worry about it kid.”

“I- I said don’t move!” Lucas thrust the canister in front of him. The creature looked down at him, its eyebrows lifting in surprise for a second, before a smile tugged at its jaw, its massive hand hanging limply, frozen, in the air.

“You did, didn’t you, sorry about that,” the creature hummed, though Lucas felt like it didn’t sound very sorry.

“I’ll do it!” Lucas told him.

“Can you?” the creature tilted its head.

“Yes!”

The creature leaned for just a little, “Are you extremely sure you can manage it at this point?”

“I-” Lucas opened his mouth to insist that, yes, he could! And he would! But he was immediately cut off by a burst of movement to his right.

Faster than Lucas could even blink, the creature raised its left hand and brought it down on the couch next to Lucas, smashing it to pieces in an instant. Lucas gasped and cowered as wood and fabric and stuffing erupted from right next to him. His breath caught in his throat as he lifted his arms on instinct to try and protect his face and neck, gasoline splashing on the carpet, himself and a bit on the match box he held in his other hand.

He tensed, waiting for the pain of the impact, but it never came. He cracked open his eyes and looked to the couch, only to see a wall of pure white. His eyes looked back up to the creature and he saw that, while the creature had smashed the couch with his left hand, he’d put his left between Lucas and the destruction to shield him.

Lucas stared at the thing and its smiling face, his heart jack-rabbiting in his chest.

“You see,” the creature sighed as he gingerly brought his hands back down in front of him, resting all four limbs where before he’d been standing on his hind legs, its paws balancing it. “The smart part of your plan was the fire,” it continued.

“Fire actually would give me some trouble, not enough to really harm me in any meaningful way, but it would buy you a few seconds. Buuuut, you should have poured the gas while I was walking across the lawn, that way all you needed to do was light it when I got there. Pouring the gas takes way too long to do it when I’m this close. Tough luck kiddo.”

“A- Ah,” Lucas wilted.

“Now, gimmie the matches kid, you’ve got gas all over them, if you light them now you’ll just set yourself on fire. Which I assume isn’t something you want to do,” the creature hummed as it gingerly lifted its massive hand and reached for the match book.

“No!” Lucas shouted.

The creature stopped, then tilted its head and raised an eyebrow, “No?”

“I’m not-!” Lucas stared up at the thing, “I won’t just let you kill me, or take me, or whatever!”

He dropped the canister and took one of the matches from the book. The creature tensed as gasoline spilled across the floor around them, the liquid rapidly draining from the canister.

“So I’ll get a bit burnt!” Lucas gritted his teeth, “That’s okay, I doubt I’d ever manage to get away from you unscathed anyway. But you’ll get burnt too! I’ll run away and put the fire out, then I’ll keep running until it’s all over. I won’t go willingly!”

The creature stared down at him, tense and wide-eyed. Then a low grumble began to emanate from its chest. Lucas tensed, anticipating the rumble to grow into a growl, ready to light and drop the match and run as the creature finally lost its patience and snapped him up in its jaws.

But, much to Lucas’ surprise the creature burst out in loud, explosive laughter. The creature lifted its hand to its face as tears leaked down its face and its laughter echoed off the walls inside Lucas’ mind and the very real walls of the cabin.

“I’m really starting to like you kid,” the monster laughed, “that bull-headed desire to live you have is actually quite endearing, it’s also gonna be very very helpful in what’s to come.”

“W-What’s to come?” Lucas deflated slightly as confusion once more took over.

“This is just the beginning kiddo, now, stay put for a second, I’ve got something I need to do,” the creature grinned down at Lucas, its eyes twinkling.

“Does…” Lucas swallowed hard, “Are you not going to kill me?”

The creature chuckled, “No Lucas, I’m not going to kill you, or take you away. Well, actually I am going to do that, but not to where the others want you to go.”

“Then where-”

“Shhh,” the creature hushed him as it brought a massive claw to Lucas’ lips, its talon the length of his face pressing gently against him. “Just hang tight for a minute for me.”

Lucas blinked in confusion and surprise at the creature then plucked the matchbook from his limp fingers and turned to the door, “I’ll just be a moment.”

Then, it barrelled outside, the force of its movement pushing Lucas the wet carpet, more gasoline soaking into his pants and covering his hands. Lucas wrinkled his nose as the fumes intensified and his eyes watered at the horrible smell.

He stood on wobbly legs, gas fumes, confusion, hunger, and retreating adrenaline causing his mind to grow fuzzy and disconnected. He carefully made his way to the stairs and gripped the handrail tightly as he stumbled his way up the stairs.

The monster told him to stay put, but Lucas assumed that meant to stay inside the cabin and opposed to standing right where he was before. Then again, he could be wrong and the creature would change its mind and gut him when it came back.

Lucas looked back down the stairs. Well, too late now.

He continued into his room and quickly changed his shirt and pants, throwing the gasoline soaked clothes into the tub and he then started scrubbing his hands in the sink until the awful smell went away.

As he left the bathroom, feeling a little better, he spotted the chocolate bar he’d left on his bedside table for a special occasion. Well, he figured this was as special an occasion as any. He crawled up onto his bed and crossed his legs as he unwrapped the chocolate bar and took a bite.

It was good, really really good, much better than anything he’d had in a long long time, and Lucas wasn’t sure if that taste was due to just the chocolate itself, or the fact that he’d just survived something that should have been impossible. Still, just the taste of it made Lucas feel so much better as he slumped against the wall.

“Oh, you’ve got some candy,” the creature’s voice erupted in his mind, causing Lucas’s eyes to shoot to the door, only to find it empty. Then he heard the window begin to slide open. He turned to stare at the window and found the massive creature carefully sliding it open, then once more shrinking to get inside.

Lucas was hypnotized, watching the creature shrink down to just larger than his mom had been, then grow to a hulking size that left its head resting against the ceiling. The transformations took a few seconds from one size to the next, but just the fact it was able to do it at all mesmerized Lucas.

That and the fact that its fur had turned from a pure white to a deep crimson red, stained in blood.

Lucas gulped.

“Alright, now that all the idiots are dead, we can discuss a bit more what’s going to happen now,” the creature announced.

“The… idiots?” Lucas asked.

The monster once more waved its massive hand dismissively, “all those other monsters hanging out by the treeline, waiting for me to get down with the dirty work they were unable to complete. Though at this point that’s more on you then on them really…”

“I’m sorry?” Lucas asked, unsure if he should apologize or not.

The creature chuckled and shook its head, “Don’t apologize for not wanting to die, kid. You see, their job was to convince you to let them kill you, it’s a whole thing. Anyway, they failed miserably at that because you’re a little fighter, ain’t ya?” the creature grinned as it brought down the heel of its massive hand and rubbed the top of Lucas’ head, messing up his hair and staining it with blood.

“I guess?” Lucas frowned, looking up at the monster.

“That's a good thing, by the way. A very very good thing, because now, our mission is to keep you alive, and your obstinate refusal to die is going to be a major asset to this cause since they can’t kill you unless you want to die.”

“O-obstinate?” Lucas asked, dozens of questions rolling around in his head.

”It means you’re very stubborn,” the monster clarified.

Lucas nodded slowly, “I… I’m not very smart-”

“Yes you are,” the creature cut him off. “You’re ignorant, sure, but that’s not the same as unintelligent. Ignorance you can fix, stupidity you can’t.”

“I…” Lucas wasn’t sure he quite believed that. Mom and the monsters had always told him he was stupid, and they couldn’t all be wrong. “Still, I don’t understand… anything.”

“That’s alright,” the creature reassured him, “there will be more time to talk about this later, for now all you need to know is that you don’t want to die, and I don’t want you to die either, so I’m going to help you. Now, don’t be mistaken, I do find you quite endearing, but I’m doing this for purely selfish reasons, understand?”

“I think so?” Lucas nodded, “We both want me to live because its good for us if I’m alive?”

“Exactly,” the creature messed up his hair some more despite Lucas trying to dodge out of the way, “I told you you were smart. Now, I’m going to hop inside your mind now.”

“W-What?!” Lucas exclaimed as his back hit the wall, instinctively trying to get away from the monster.

“Yes,” the thing nodded, “You see, despite my hulking appearance, I’m actually quite sly. The main thing I can actually do, aside from kick ass and adjust my appearance to an extent, is that I’m able to possess people. That’s actually the reason they asked me to come talk to you in the first place. I’m very good at possessing people and then psychologically, emotionally, and physically torturing them. They figured if I worked my magic on you, you’d crack like an egg.”

“I don’t understand,” Lucas leaned a bit further away, “What’s torture? And I don’t know what psyc- physco-” Lucas scowled as he tried to pronounce the word.

“Psychological,” the creature supplied, “it refers to a person's state of mind. Kinda like how emotional relates to someone's emotions and physical is someone’s body. As for torture, it means making someone feel pain.”

“So you were sent here to hurt me,” Lucas nodded to himself.

The creature smiled, “But you already knew that. See? Smart. You didn’t know the specifics, but you understood the general situation and came up with a plan to try and get out of it. What a cute, smart little boy you are,” the monster cooed as it continued to mess up his hair.

“But you’re not going to, right?” Lucas asked.

“Nope.”

Lucas then scowled, “But you said you were going to possess me, that’s torturing me.”

The creature blinked at him as Lucas’ words processed in his mind, then he grinned and began to laugh once more, “Ah! I see where the- No no, possessing you won’t hurt you kid. I can hurt you once I’m inside your head, but I don’t, like, have to.”

“Oh…”

The creature nodded, “Once I’m inside your head, I can help you get away from the monsters, okay?”

Lucas looked at it warily, “...and you promise not to hurt me?”

“Cross my heart,” the creature made an X-motion over his chest.

Lucas swallowed hard as he looked down at the chocolate bar in his hand. This could be a really really bad idea. He could let this creature in and it could do all number of terrible things to him, it could rip him to pieces from the inside out and Lucas would be helpless to stop it. Yet, it could also be his one chance at escape, his one hope of salvation in this god-forsaken place.

Maybe, just maybe, he could live.

Lucas looked back up at the creature’s shining white and red fur and muttered under his breath, “‘And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not,’ John 1:5.”

“What was that?” the creature asked.

“The Bible,” Lucas replied. “And, okay. Do it.”

The creature tilted his head, regarding him for a moment before it smiled. “Lay back for me, would you, and close your eyes.”

Lucas tentatively laid back and after a moment of staring at the pale wolf covered in blood looming over him, he closed his eyes.

This wasn’t suicide, he decided. It was hope.

---------------------

When Lucas woke up, he wasn’t in bed. Instead he woke up in a dark gray void, seemingly devoid of all life. He looked around and found nothing, just the dark gray dusted ground and the slightly lighter gray featureless sky.

“Ah,” Lucas deflated, “I’m in hell.”

“Not quite kiddo,” a familiar voice announced from behind him.

Lucas spun around to face the creature, only to find its voice wasn’t the only thing about that that had changed. Now, instead of its voice echoing around in his mind with an inhuman rumbling depth to it, it sounded much more like a regular human man’s voice.

It also looked human to.

The monster stared down at where he sat, looking almost indistinguishable from a regular human. It stood above him with the pale, almost pure white skin and white hair so light it seemed to glow hanging messily just over his shoulders. His eyes were the same glowing crimson and his teeth were sharp when he smiled. He didn’t look like anyone Lucas had ever seen before, though he’d not really met many people, but Lucas was fairly sure he’d seen people that looked like the creature on TV, smiling and laughing with other beautiful people.

“Though,” he continued, “I will grant you the comparison, I mean, wow kid, this is hands down the most depressing mind I’ve ever been in. Can’t you, like, imagine some flowers or something?”

Their surroundings remained stagnant.

The monster sighed, “Ah well, not quite sure what I expected really.”

“So,” Lucas looked around, “We’re inside my head?”

“I mean, technically you’ve always been in here kiddo, I’m just hitching a ride” the monster crouched down and ruffled his hair again, now with his new human hand. Lucas scowled as he swatted it away, nearly cutting himself on the monster’s long and very sharp nails.

“Ooooooh, testy testy,” the creature laughed as it continued to try and pet Lucas’ hair.

“Why do you look like a person?” Lucas asked as he continued to battle the monster’s hands for rights over his head.

“Figured it would make you more comfortable, which it has so I was right,” the creature finally relented, rolling back and sitting cross-legged in front of him.

Lucas scowled, but couldn’t argue. It was easier talking to the thing when it looked like a person as opposed to the giant hulking creature. He was still intimidating looking with his red eyes, muscular body and sharp white nails, but less so.

“So, I’m asleep?” Lucas asked.

“Bingo again,” the monster grinned, “Your body is very weak, but we can fix that.”

“And we’re going to be… together for a while?” Lucas asked.

“At least two years,” the monster hummed, “We’ll see what happens after that.”

“Okay,” Lucas nodded, not sure why he specified two years, “So, um, what should I call you then?”

The monster gave him a huge grin, his eyes twinkling mischievously, “You could try my name.”

“You have a name?”

“Wow!” The creature put a hand to his chest, “That’s very rude! Yes I have a name you twerp.”

“Twerp?”

“It means you’re a little brat,” the monster laughed. “But for your information, my name is Æthane.”

“Æthane?” Lucas asked.

“Sure is, but I suppose as I’ll be looking after you from now on you can just call me your new daddy,” Æthane smirked.

Lucas wasn’t sure what face he made but it must have been amusing because Æthane almost immediately tilted his head back in howling laughter.

“You’re too much kiddo I swear,” he grinned, “Something tells me we’re gonna get along just fine for the duration of our time together.”

Lucas really hoped so.

Not like he had a choice.

[roblingoblin285]

Day 95: Muffled screams (Out Of Their Element)

Media/universe: Out Of Their Element (OCs)

Rob buried his head into his pillow, muffling a strangled cry as Sage pressed harder on the wound in his side. “I-I’m sorry,” he gasped, tears streaming down his face and onto the pillowcase. “Please, Sage-”

“I’m so sorry,” Sage said, voice tight. “Kid, I’m sorry, I know it hurts. Just a little longer.”

The boy turned his face into the bedding again, letting out another wail at the pressure. “Help, Sage- please h-help me, it hurts-”

Sage blinked tears from their eyes as they quickly wound a bandage around Rob’s stomach. They tied it off and eased the pressure cautiously, watching to make sure no blood soaked through the padding. “Okay,” they breathed, wiping the sweat and fallen tears from their face with a sleeve. “You’re alright, Rob, come here.”

Chest heaving with repressed sobs, Rob quickly turned away from the pillow and flung himself into Sage’s chest. “I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered through tears, grabbing Sage’s robes as if they would vanish if he let go. “I-I’ll be better, sir.”

Sage’s stomach rolled with despair, making them ill. “No, sweetheart,” they murmured, tucking his head close and wrapping their arms around him. “You have nothing to apologize for, okay? You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m so sorry this happened.”

Rob’s breath caught in his chest, and then a new wave of tears hit him. He tried to speak, but the words were lost in another pained cry.

“It’s alright,” Sage soothed, running a hand through the boy’s hair and another up and down his back. “Let it out, sunshine. You’re not in any trouble, okay? You’re safe.”

thanks for reading! please comment/submit an ask if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist. Asks and questions about characters or plot are always welcome! 365 writing challenge taglist: @stabby-nunchucks @sapphobugz Fall From Grace taglist: @thekittyburger

[whumpshots]

Whumpshot Wednesday

Inspired by this post by @whumpster-dumpster

_

"I can't send them to do this. This ... this is not right. They're just a kid," team leader says, while walking up and down the room. Caretaker's eyes just follow them, but they don't say much.

"I mean ... how can they possibly want me to make this decision? Whumpee's been ... they-"

"Have been through worse," caretaker interrupts and looks into the other's eyes. "I hate to break it to you, team leader, but no matter what you want to do right now ... it won't be any good. Whumpee's already been through shit like this."

The scars ... the nightmares. Caretaker knows all about them. Knows how much whumpee suffered in the past how they just don't care anymore. So young and already so tired of life.

"What are you talking about ...?"

"If you knew anything about whumpee, you knew that they just aren't a kid. Never had the chance to. And you won't be able to stop them from doing what they think they have to do. Because you never did so before."

Team leader stops in their tracks and looks caretaker up and down. "How ... how do you know?"

"Because they told me after I patched them up over and over again."

[whump-bunny]

A Failed Escape

By Whump-Bunny

(Description: A little AU oneshot from the novel I'm writing, featuring a delusional doctor, a feral boy with golden blood, and two guards who are just doing their jobs.)

-

It's approximately 1am when Jamie gets the notification on her tablet. 

"Tracker Implant KP1-a has left permitted boundary."

She blinks, thinking for a moment that she'd fallen asleep on her lab table again, but with a few taps, she gets redirected to a view of a blinking red dot, rapidly getting farther and farther from the confines of her house. Jamie sighs and dials the Facility Guard office. She’d expected this to happen eventually of course, but Asa has only been in her care for three days. She supposes she’d thought she'd be able to contain him for longer.

The Guard office picks up on the first ring, as it should. Charles Growder, Head Guard and one of Jamie's closest friends, answers the call.

"Hamlin, what's got you calling so late?" He mutters in that gravelly voice of his. This is a private line, one set up specifically for Jamie to use in relation to her newest ward. In reality, there aren't many reasons she would be calling this late, other than the obvious.

Jamie says as much, and Growder laughs.

"You couldn't keep him for three days, huh? Could it be that the great Doctor Hamlin has finally bitten off more than she could chew?" Jamie can practically see the condescending smirk on his face through the phone. Humiliating though it seems, she rolls her eyes and tries to find the humor in the situation.

"He's heading East, about a mile and a half away."

Growder whistles.

"I have some men on patrol in that area. They'll have him back before you know it."

Hamlin sighs, pouring herself a cup of coffee in what will most likely be a long night. "They'd better. Tell them to be careful. He's quite fragile at the moment and needlessly hurting him is the least efficient way to win him over."

"Will do."

With that, Growder hangs up, leaving Hamlin to her own devices until her son is found. She takes the time to check over the security footage of Asa’s room.

He never actually went to sleep, tossing and turning throughout the night until he finally felt confident enough to make his move. Hamlin watches the grainy feed as Asa reaches under his mattress and pulls out a small rectangular card.

With a gasp, Hamlin pats her back pocket in search of her ID badge, only to find it missing. Interesting. It seems her ward has a few skills leftover from his time as a street urchin. She makes a mental note to pickpocket-proof all of her belongings after this gets resolved.

Turning her attention back to the screen, she sees Asa use her badge to slip out of the house with ease. The outside cameras lose sight of him soon after he reaches the forest. It's odd, Hamlin notes, that he runs in the direction of the Facility rather than away from it.

That's when she realizes in horror that her ward might not be as intelligent as she'd hoped. Surely he doesn't think he can save his friends as well as escape on his own?

Concerns for Asa’s intelligence aside, Hamlin looks down at her tracker-pad, waiting for the little red dot to finally stop moving.

-

She gets the call at 1:11am that Asa has finally been apprehended and is on his way back. Relief floods her system like a drug and she finally lets herself sigh. Logically, she knows that they'd be able to catch him no matter how far he's able to get, thanks to the tracker in his neck. Even so, Jamie hates the feeling of her pride and joy away from the safety of her house.

She supposes Asa is sort of like a security blanket in that way.

With nothing much else to do but wait anxiously for the guards to arrive with her son, Jamie busies herself by double-checking every lock and tidying up the house. It isn't much, but it's enough to keep her from calling the Guard office and demanding to know what's taking so long.

At 1:30am, she's just about ready to storm outside and collect her son herself, when she hears a knock at the door.

She's over there in seconds, almost sliding into the door in her haste. She takes a moment to collect herself, hiding just how eager she truly is, before opening the door.

Standing on her patio are two guards, holding a squirming, furious Asa, between them. His breathing is labored and uneven, a clear sign that he'd been struggling the whole way home. The guards look just about ready to kill him for it.

He's crying, much to Jamie's distress. Her son shouldn't cry just because he's been brought back home. Tears in the lab are fine. Jamie understands that the tests she conducts are often uncomfortable. But outside of study, she'd like her muse to be happy.

"Welcome home, Asa!" She chirps, reaching a hand out to ruffle his hair. He bites at her, then shoots a death glare that would make the devil run and hide. Jamie smiles.

"That was quite a run! I'm impressed you made it so far, Asa. I wish you had told me you wanted to do an endurance test, I would have given you a much smoother track to run on."

At this, Asa jerks to life, just barely held back by the guards. “Rrgh- fuck you!”

Jamie clicks her tongue, “There you go with that potty mouth again. You’re just determined to break every rule tonight, aren’t you?

“Shut up! I'm not gonna just sit here and play house! I’d rather you send me back to the damn Facility!” Asa shouts. His words sting just a bit, but Jamie doesn't let them hurt her too badly. This behavior is to be expected. Really, it's one of the main reasons she adopted Asa in the first place. If she weren't willing to be patient with her patient, then what kind of doctor would she be?

So, rather than lash out, Jamie just smiles wider.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option, sport.” She chirps, this time ruffling Asa’s hair before he can stop her. “Now, I’d love to chat, but it's way past your bedtime. A proper sleep schedule is imperative to one’s physical and mental health, y'know.”

Expectedly, Asa bristles. 

“I’m not going to sleep! I won’t stay here for another second!” He yells, once again pulling at his arms until the guards yank him closer.

Hamlin lets out an exaggerated sigh. In truth she's not mad. In fact, she's not even disappointed. Her son has a bad habit of hiding his fear behind a mask of rage, this she knows for a fact. She's known it ever since she'd drugged him for the first time, when the curses turned into pleas and the threats turned into sobs. When the mask fell.

She knows that her son, more than anything else, is terrified. And that's why she can't bring herself to be anything but understanding. That being said, she also knows that this kind of behavior is unacceptable. And though Jamie would be happy dragging him back home a thousand times if necessary, the LRA would quickly grow impatient and shove him in solitary for the rest of his life.

For Asa’s own sake, he needs to be punished.

With an apologetic smile, Jamie crouches down to Asa’s eye level. “Listen sweetheart, you broke the number one rule. No leaving the house without my permission. I have no choice but to punish you."

At her threat, Asa pales, doubling his struggles. He looks very much like a wild animal, caught in a cage. Deep down, Jamie wishes he would take his fate with a bit more dignity.

"No- no, dammit! Don't drug me-" Asa barks, only for Jamie to cut him off with a raised brow.

"Why not? I explained to you when you first got here that your actions have consequences. If you didn't want to face them, then you shouldn't have broken the rules."

"Look, I'm sorry." Asa snaps, and finally Jamie can see the cracks in his mask, the anger chipping away into fear.

"Sorry for breaking the rules or sorry you got caught?"

Asa falters, "I-"

"I'm not mad at you, sweetie." Jamie cuts him off, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I just want you to be happy. And you won't be happy out there. I keep trying to help you understand that."

Her son’s face darkens, his glare deepens. He stares at Jamie with all the hatred a boy his size could possibly muster.

"I hate you! You- you're a monster!" He spits, angry tears rolling down his face. Jamie feels her heart break.

To hear her muse, her son, say that he hates her… it isn't easy to hear. But it only stands to make Jamie more determined. One day, Asa will look at her and see a mother. But she can’t make that happen in a single night. Asa needs time to adjust, and of course, Jamie is happy to provide it.

She sighs, "I'm sorry you feel that way, Asa. But it's very late. We can talk about this tomorrow."

Standing up, Jamie turns to the guards. She doesn't recognize their faces. They must be stationed on perimeter duty most of the time. Clearly, they don't have a whole lot of experience with handling assets, if their struggles with Asa are evidence enough. Still, Jamie trusts that they should be competent enough to control her wayward son for at least a few more minutes.

"Bring him to his room, please. I'll be right there." She orders, stepping aside to allow them into her house.

As they begin to move, Asa shouts and digs his heels into the hardwood floor. The guards seem entirely unphased. Jamie watches them drag her screaming son until they disappear into the hallway.

"Third door on the left." She calls after them.

When she hears the door close, Jamie allows herself a moment to indulge in self doubt. Is she truly cut out for this? Motherhood, that is. Jamie has no doubts that she can eventually break Asa’s will to escape, or at least contain him until she does. (Today, of course, not included.)

If she wanted to, she could have Asa kept in solitary confinement. She could strap him down to the lab table permanently, hooked up to a catheter and feeding tube and enough drugs to put out a small army for three days. She could study him day in and day out, until she either runs out of questions or dies trying. She could treat him like any other asset, and Mr. M would be ecstatic.

But Jamie doesn't want another asset.

She wants a son.

And if this is what it takes to get one? If she has to drag Asa back to the lab every day, and whisper reassuring words while she cuts into his spine? If she has to be the good cop and the bad cop and the something in between cop?

Then so be it. 

With a newfound determination, Jamie grabs her sedative kit from the lab and makes her way to Asa’s room.

She doesn't hear any screams on the other side of the door. For most, that would be relieving, but Jamie knows better than to assume that Asa calmed down by himself. Worry settles in her stomach like a rock as she opens the door. And her heart stops when she sees what awaits her on the other side.

Dripping from Asa’s nose and onto his shirt is shining, golden blood. Jamie narrows her eyes.

"What happened to my son's face?"

The guards exchange a glance and probably think they're being subtle. Neither meet Jamie's eyes, nor do they say anything.

"I'm sorry, did I not ask you two a question?" Jamie spits, her voice dripping with foreboding. Asa visibly stiffens, eyes darting back and forth between the guards and Jamie. He looks like a rabbit caught between a pair of wolves and a hunter, unsure of which he should fear more.

The guards aren't much better off, opening and closing their mouths like goldfish as they try to find the words to answer Jamie's demand.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of mindless gawking, the taller guard speaks.

"He fell, Doctor." He says, still refusing to meet Jamie's eye.

"Oh he fell, did he?" Jamie repeats, pretending to believe that for even a moment. She turns to Asa, who isn't able to hide his flinch from her trained eyes. Suddenly, her demeanor softens, and she leans down to look him in the face. His glowing skin stands out against the darkness of the room, allowing Jamie to scrutinize every feature.

His nose has already healed, it seems. Good. But the remnants of pain still linger on her son's face. His big brown eyes swim with flashes of fear, shame, but most of all, rage. Jamie shakes her head.

"Is that true, sweetie? Did you fall?"

Asa doesn't reply, mouth pressed into a firm line, but he doesn't need to. As he looks away, Jamie follows his gaze, and he inadvertently leads her to the truth. Asa glances at the short guard's fist, and Jamie finally notices the little flecks of golden blood coating his knuckles.

Without hesitation, Jamie straightens, reels back, and slaps the guard with all of her strength. He yelps like a chihuahua, and Jamie thinks that alone should be grounds enough to fire the bastard. Asa audibly gasps, but for once, Jamie's attention isn't centered on him. She glares daggers into the guard, waiting for him to recover before balling his shirt collar in her fist.

“Hit my son again and see what happens, swine.” She spits, much to the pig's dismay.

“But- but Hamlin he-” Jamie shoves him to the ground before he can finish. For a moment, she debates on whether or not to kill this waste of biomatter right there. But then, as always, her thoughts turn to Asa. She doubts he'd appreciate seeing a brutal murder after everything else tonight.

Still, she won't let this pig get away with this.

“That’s Doctor Hamlin. And it doesn’t matter what he did. Your job is to hold him still. Not to decide how he should be punished.” She barks, allowing the man to stand back up. “Rest assured, I'll be speaking to Growder about this. You'll be lucky if you work in Facility one by this time tomorrow. And you-"

Jamie turns to the tall guard, the one who lied to her to begin with.

"You'll be demoted as well. Say goodbye to your company car. And if I ever see either of you near my son again after tonight, I will have your heads. Do I make myself clear?”

One at a time, the guards mumble out a, “Y-yes… Dr. Hamlin."

Hamlin nods, as satisfied as she could be for now. Then with a sigh, she turns her attention back to her reason for living.

Asa stares up at her with eyes wider than saucers. It's an expression she's quite used to, so it doesn't faze her much. Still, she feels compelled to apologize. Both for the actions of the guard and for her own outburst.

"Alright then. Sorry about that, Asa." She chirps, raising up the sedative kit she'd brought from the lab. Asa pales. "This is just a little bit of anesthetic to help you sleep for the rest of the night. And for your punishment, tomorrow I'll have you sedated for the day. Nothing too strong. Just enough to keep you calm. Okay?"

At once, Asa begins struggling all over again, but it seems like the failures that call themselves guards have finally figured out how to do their jobs. They flank Asa on either side, locking his arms in their own and practically squishing him to death between their muscular frames. Asa writhes and squirms, but finds himself almost completely immobilized. That’s of course when the screaming starts.

All the while, Jamie gingerly prepares her syringe, sucking up enough high-concentration anesthetic to put out 100 fully grown men. Or one boy with an abnormally fast metabolism. It’s become muscle memory at this point, drugging her son, but that isn’t to say Jamie lets herself get sloppy. She measures each drop with razor sharp precision. She’s studied the effects of every dosage in every size. She knows how long this will keep Asa asleep, down to the minute. And it seems that after so much time spent in the lab, Asa does too. 

He locks eyes with the needle as if it’s a loaded gun. "N-no- stay the hell away from me! I don’t want your stupid drugs-” He yells, straining against the guards to stand as far away as possible. Jamie closes the distance with a single step, careful to stay just far enough in case Asa decides to bite.

"I know." She sighs, "But you broke the rules, kiddo. You gotta face the consequences of your actions."

Asa grits his teeth, "Do it and I swear to god- I'll-"

"You'll what?" Hamlin interrupts, her ever-present patience finally wearing thin. She loves Asa more than all the stars in the sky… but if she could change even one thing about Asa, it would be for him to use his head a bit more often and have the grace to accept when he's clearly lost. There's quite a fine line between stubbornness and stupidity. It's a line that Asa dances on daily, and tonight he's crossed it by a mile.

Without giving him more chances to run his mouth, Jamie swiftly grabs his hair and pulls his head to the side with practiced expertise. He struggles like a wild boar, but Jamie doesn't waver.

"Just hold still, Asa. You've fought enough for one night. It's time to let go." She coaxes, readying her needle above the delicate flesh of his neck. 

"No! Don't-! Stop it!" Asa yells, and it sounds far less like a demand and far more like a plea. Tears once again run down his cheeks, destroying any remaining traces of the fearless mask he tries so hard to wear at all times. Once again, Jamie's reduced him to what he really is underneath all the bravado and spite.

A child.

"Hamlin- please!" 

Over the years of her career, Jamie’s given countless shots to countless unwilling children. But Asa takes the gold medal for most difficult patient. Still, nothing he does stops the inevitable pierce of the needle into his flesh, the instant drop of his limbs, the reluctant closing of eyes filled with hate.

Jamie watches fondly as her son falls asleep. She has the guards put him in his bed, then orders them to leave her house under threat of dissection. They practically run out the door, leaving Jamie alone with the light of her life.

He's so cute when he's sleeping. The harsh lines of his ever-present frown dissipate, leaving him looking soft and smooth like a porcelain doll. He looks younger like this, more innocent as well. It's when he's sleeping that Jamie always remembers what she's doing all of this for.

Being a parent isn’t easy. But the things that are worth doing never are. Becoming a doctor took ten years. Becoming the Head Scientist of Facility 11 took another fifteen. And raising Asa might take an eternity. But just as Jamie now wears a white coat, just as she has an office in the most prestigious Facility there is, she knows that one day Asa will look at her and say ‘Mom, I love you.’

Until then, Jamie takes solace in knowing that at least tomorrow will be quiet. 

-

If you'd like to read more of my writing, or see more of my story, please let me know! I'll add you to the tag list! Also feel free to ask me any questions! I am always happy to talk to new people! You literally cannot annoy me! Hope y'all enjoyed!

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

No Place Feels Like Home

a version of this from whumpee's perspective, with ocs cuz i'm planning on turning this into a series <3

cw age gap, intimate whumper, power dynamic

The freezing air outside was a stark contrast to the inside of the house. The heat of so many bodies pressed together in the basement had left Thomas sweaty and flushed in his wool sweater, but now, standing on the porch, he wished he’d worn more layers. Winters in Jersey were unforgiving. He took another drag from his cigarette in hopes of keeping warm—it didn’t quite do the trick, but the burning in his chest was a distraction, at least. 

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” 

Thomas looked up in surprise at the guy walking toward him, leather jacket over a Refused shirt. Dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and he was wearing the kind of smirk that Thomas knew would get him into trouble if he wasn’t careful. He'd always been a sucker for bad boys. 

He held the other man’s gaze, raising the cigarette to his lips again. Thomas blew out a cloud of smoke before replying, “What makes you think I have a bedtime?” Surely, he didn’t look that young. 

The guy leaned one shoulder against the wall next to him, leaving just enough distance to be casual. “I don’t mind,” he said, not answering the question. “I mean, we do all ages shows for a reason. I think it’s great for kids to see live music.”

What a jerk—this guy had to be fucking with him. Thomas gave him as scathing a glare as he could manage. “I’m eighteen, actually. But thanks for your concern.” 

“Sorry, you just look young is all.” He was still smiling teasingly. “Didn’t mean to offend you—maybe we could start over? I’m Mateo Ruiz. But everyone calls me Matty.” 

“I know, I came to see your band,” Thomas said, taking another drag on his cigarette. 

He shivered when Mateo looked him up and down. “Yeah? Didn’t realize you were a fan.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Mateo hummed, eyes shining with amusement. “Just don’t look like you’re in the scene. Where’s your sweater from, pretty boy—The Gap?” 

It was, actually, which made Thomas fume even more. “My friend Liz put me onto you guys. She’s really into hardcore stuff, she played me your CD.”

“You’re gonna love it, I promise,” she’d insisted, grinning as they sat cross-legged on her bed. “These guys are gonna be big someday.” 

Thomas rolled his eyes. “That’s what you said about The Unholy Pizza Parlor Apocalypse. And they’ve already broken up.” 

Liz smacked him on the arm. “Okay, but I mean it this time. The melodic hardcore stuff is totally taking off. Aaaaannd the guys are wicked cute.” 

“You’re sick,” Thomas said when she wiggled her eyebrows at him. 

“Oh shit, Liz?” Mateo’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Like, Liz that does the Soundboard zine?” 

Thomas nodded, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall behind him before flicking it over the porch railing. “Yeah, she's here somewhere. Probably chatting up your bandmate—she has a thing for bassists.” 

Mateo nodded, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between them. “And how ‘bout you?” he teased, looking down at Thomas with big, dark eyes he could get lost in. “You look like the type who’d be into singers.” 

“I don’t know...singers are too cocky,” he shot back. “And they’re not as good with their fingers.”

Mateo laughed at that, flashing him a devilish smirk. “You’re funny, kid... Never told me your name, by the way.” 

“Thomas.” The chill that ran down his spine had more to do with the hungry way Mateo was looking at him than the February air. His heart pounded in his ears. 

“Thomas,” Mateo repeated, the name dripping from his tongue like honey. “Suits you.” 

His hands fidgeted with the bottom of his sweater, and he wondered if he should light another cigarette to keep them busy. 

Mateo reached out and brushed Thomas’s hair behind his ear, not paying any mind to the people milling around outside. “Well, I’ll tell you a secret, Tommy,” he said, lowering his voice. “I kind of have a thing for preppy boys who shop at The Gap.” 

“It’s just Thomas,” he whispered, throat dry. 

“Listen.” Fingers trailed down his jaw, and then Mateo’s hand was cupping his cheek. “I haven’t seen you at any shows before, but you seem cool. There’s an afterparty at my place if you wanna come.” 

Thomas hesitated. “I don’t know...I have class in the morning.” 

“Your call. But I'd really like it if you were there.” 

Mateo’s eyes drifted down to his lips for a moment, making the unspoken implication in his statement clear. Despite Thomas’s nervousness, he made no move to back away. “Yeah?” he breathed. 

“Yeah—come party with the rockstars.” He leaned in, breath hot against Thomas’s ear when he spoke. “I promise you’ll have a good time, honey.” 

“Okay. I’ll come,” Thomas agreed. He felt a sick thrill run through him as he wondered if Mateo was as passionate in...other ways...as he was when he performed. 

The singer grinned, fingers ghosting down Thomas’s neck. “Awesome. Let me pack up my equipment and then we’ll get going.”

taglist: @morning-star-whump  

[iwritewhump]

"You have to promise I'll come back" + returning home + muffled screams

day 24 of @whumptember

658 words

warnings: young whumpee (implied), betrayal, recapture, physical overpowering

part two | part three

---

“Villain?” Hero asks, lowering her head to his level. He stares at her, eyes fuzzy. His eyebrows knit together and Hero repeats herself, “Will you be able to do this?” 

He nods, “Yeah, I-I can do that. Just, um, promise I’ll come back?” 

Hero scans his face, forcing a smile, “Of course you’ll come back, if I thought anything would happen to you, I wouldn’t let you go.” she puts her hands on his shoulders and pulls him into a hug, “Nothing’s going to happen. You have my word.” 

He rests his chin in the crook of her neck and closes his eyes, reveling in her comfort. She pats his back and pulls away. Sniffling, she bumps his forehead with her fist and stands up. “You ready?” 

He nods and takes the hand she offers, squeezing it tightly as they walk out of Hero’s base and to the car. The ride is silent, Hero steals quick looks at him, making sure he wasn’t just doing this for her. He had to want to do this, not just feel obligated. God, she hopes this is the right choice. 

The car stops in front of Supervillain’s lair. Hero glances at Villain, and smiles when he looks at her. “We can go back,” she offers. “Right now. We could leave and go back. But as soon as we get out of the car, there’s no turning around.” 

She’s begging him, begging him to let her save him. To let them turn away and for her to take care of him until she dies. But he won’t let her. Because he doesn’t know. 

He shakes his head and steps out of the car, “We can do this. Then, we can go back. It’ll be alright, we can watch cartoons all night and sleep in.” 

She clears her throat and ruffles his hair, “And we can make cookies for breakfast.” 

“Lunch,” he corrects. “I’m not waking up before noon.” 

She bites her cheek and takes a step forward, “Lunch it is.” 

They walk into the lair, Villain getting closer to her by the step until he’s all but clinging to her. She wraps an arm around his shoulder and presses a kiss to his temple, hoping to keep him calm. 

“Ah,” Supervillain says, descending the staircase. “You brought him.” 

Villain tenses under her, trying to hide under her arm. He whispers, “What’s he talking about?” 

Hero stares ahead and ignores him, “Where do we go?” 

Villain tries to pull away from her, “What are you doing? This was supposed-you promised! Hero, please.” he digs his heels into the ground. “Don’t do this. You promised me.” 

She wraps her other arm around him and hugs him tightly. With a breaking voice she says, “I’m so sorry, Villain. This is the only way to stop him.” 

Supervillain comes up behind him and takes him from her, a small smile on his face. “You did the right thing. He’s all I wanted.” He holds Villain close against him, a hand digging into his shoulder to keep him still. “You’ve saved your city, congratulations.” 

“Wait!” she says, running up to Villain. She cups his cheek and bites the inside of her lip, “I’m so sorry, Villain.” 

He stares at her, tears forming in his eyes. “You’re sorry?” he spits. “You fucking promised me. You promised I wouldn’t end up here again. You looked at me, in the fucking eyes and promised I’d be ok. You said-”

Supervillain cuts him off with a hand over his mouth. “That’s enough.” Villain struggles under his hand, still screaming at her. The tears fall down his cheeks and his face turns red. “You should go, Hero. It’s not going to get any better. You know how he is.” 

She glances at him again, heart aching at the sight of his small frame under Supervillain’s hand. She runs out of the lair, forcing herself to look ahead. It was the only way.

[em-writes-stuff]

Heart racing + on the run

@whumpril day 25

Warnings: escaped whumpee, young whumpee (implied)

Whumpee, caretaker, whumper

692 words

---

Whumpee ducks behind a truck, crouching with his knees to his chest and his hand wrapped tightly around his dagger. He closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing, his free hand presses over his heart.

Whumper’s car crawls past the truck, headlights shining down the street. The car comes to a stop and Whumpee deflates, making himself smaller and clinging to the side of the truck. For a moment, he thinks about making a run for it, but there was no way Whumper wouldn’t see him.

The car speeds up again, disappearing around the corner and Whumpee laughs in relief. He peels away from the car and stares up at the moon and stars, letting the wind blow through his tangled hair and bite through his clothes.

He rubs a hand over his face and looks around. Closest to him, a bar is pulsing with activity and across the street, there’s a small diner with a few customers scattered around. He sighs and crosses the street, constantly looking over his shoulder.

He pushes into the diner, feet shuffling to a booth in the corner and sits down. Everyone in the place looks at him, their eyes burning into his skin, making him itchy. He rolls his shoulders and pulls his knees up to his chest, tucking a hand into his hoodie pocket and keeping the other firmly grasped on his dagger.

The cashier hangs the phone back on the receiver and walks over to his booth, sitting across from Whumpee. “Can I get you anything, hun?” Whumpee stares through her, barely registering her existence. She tilts her head close to the table and he focuses on her.

“What?”

She smiles faintly and repeats herself, “Can I get you anything?”

He shakes his head, curling into himself more, “No, thank you. I don’t have any money.”

She looks him over and leans back, “On the house.”

One of the nearby customers makes a sound of protest, but she shuts it down with one glare over her shoulder. Whumpee uncurls slightly and looks at the menu on the wall, then shakes his head again.

She sighs and scoots out of the booth. She walks back up to the counter and reaches over it, grabbing a pot of coffee and a mug.

Whumpee watches as she pours it and sets it down in front of him, but he doesn’t drink any. Mesmerized by the steam, he relaxes even more and loosens his grip on his dagger.

The cashier smiles at a new customer and Whumpee tenses when he hears the voice.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” He says, nodding to her sweetly, “Have you seen a boy, about this tall-” he holds his hand just below his shoulder “-he’s my sister’s kid and staying with me while she’s in the hospital. We don’t get along too good and he ran off, so I’ve been driving around past few hours looking for him.”

Whumpee ducks under the table, knuckles turning white around the dagger, he stares at her and she stares back, smiling gently. “I’m sorry, sir,” she says, leaning against the counter, “I haven’t seen any boy-not this late at least. If you give me your number, I’ll be sure to give you a call if I see anything though.”

Whumper sighs and runs a hand over his hair to smooth it, “No, no, that’s alright. Thank you, ma’am. I’m sure I’ll manage. Sorry for botherin’ you.”

“Not at all,” she said, smoothing her apron.

He nods to her again and turns out of the diner, sighing loudly just before it shuts.

Whumpee waits for his car to drive away before coming back up to the booth, he wraps his arms around his knees and rests his chin on his shoulder, looking around the diner.

The cashier sits back across from him and tilts her head again, “Ok, kid. I’m not gonna ask you what’s going on but do you need anything?”

Shaking his head, he forces a smile, “I’m alright. I just need to sit here for a little while, if that’s alright?”

She sighs and nods, pushing the coffee mug closer to him.

[littleperilstories]

Whumptober 2022: #9 :: The Very Noisy Night

Whumptober Masterpost Sleeping in Shifts | Tossing and Turning | Caught in a Storm

Whumpee: Laramie Jonas

@whumptober-archive / @whumptober

CW: young whumpee (he’s alright!) head injury, blood, mention of death, potentially life-threatening injury

The Curiosity Collector

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Ash couldn’t take his eyes off the boy he’d found. He was alive—alive. The healer had wrapped a bandage around his head, pristinely white and still clean. Red still stained his skin, but nothing seeped through the pale cotton.

“You.” The healer pointed a finger at Ash’s face. “You’re the one who found him. Your father’s exhausted. Earn your keep and watch the boy.”

Her gaze flicked to Ivy. Ash didn’t need to look to know that she had planted herself behind him.

“I’m staying too.” She spoke clearly, stubbornly. Ash almost smiled.

“Fine. I don’t care. Don’t wake me up unless it seems he’s dying again.”

Ash couldn’t take his eyes off the boy he’d found. He was alive—alive. The healer had wrapped a bandage around his head, pristinely white and still clean. Red still stained his skin, but nothing seeped through the pale cotton. Whatever the healer had done must have worked to stem the bleeding.

On his shoulder, a hand squeezed gently. Ash looked up to find his father looking down at him, weary but patient. Perhaps even proud.

“You did a brave thing today, Ash. Trying to help him.”

Ash choked back the truth: I didn’t do anything. I yelled for help. I watched while you did the real helping.

“And it’s very kind of you to stay with him now.”

From across the room, the healer snarled, “I’m going to sleep now.”

A smile, tired though it was, cracked his father’s face. “I’m going home. Will you be all right until morning?” Ash nodded. He knew he should be tired. He was tired. But he knew he wouldn’t sleep. Couldn’t even if he wanted to.

“We’ve got each other,” Ivy said. “We’ll take turns resting.”

When his father was gone, and Ivy was curled up like a baby rabbit on the floor of the healer’s house, Ash revelled in the silence. Well—the quiet. The healer snored. Ivy could fall asleep in an instant, and her gentle breaths drifted through the air.

On the sickbed, the boy jerked in his sleep, whimpering softly.

Who are you? Part of Ash wished the boy would wake, so he could find out his name. Who he was, where he came from. Who had tried to kill him.

Moonlight gushed in through the window, spilling gracefully across the boy’s face. In the absence of orange candlelight, the bloodstains on his skin were less pronounced. It accentuated, though, the faint twitches of his lips. Betrayed the horrors that seemed to be playing out like a mummery behind the curtains of his eyes. Ash wrapped his arms around his knees, squeezing hard.

The night passed slowly, molasses from a jar. Ivy took over, and Ash pretended to sleep, tossing and turning on the hard floor. He didn’t want to close his eyes. If he did, he would only see blood watering the forest floor. If he did, the boy might wake, and Ash wouldn’t be awake for it.

They switched again, and just like before, Ivy fell asleep within moments of lying down.

The sky was only just starting to lighten, daylight only a dream on the horizon, when the boy’s eyes flew open. He gasped.

“You’re not dead,” Ash said. He wondered why he’d chosen those words. If their roles were reversed, and he was the one waking up miraculously after having his head split open, he wouldn’t be reassured by a stranger telling him he wasn’t a corpse. “They said—the healer said you—“

The boy’s throat bobbed as he sat up. His arms trembled beneath him as he struggled to hold himself up. “Where am I?” His voice was rough. Quiet. Perhaps he needed water. Perhaps he’d been screaming when the witch hunters tried to crack open his skull. Perhaps his voice always sounded like that.

Ash liked it. It made a shiver run down his spine. “Coven of the Moon.”

The boy blinked, and for a moment, Ash wondered if he was going to drift back into unconsciousness. But his silver eyes, tinted slightly blue in the darkness, stayed open. “Oh.”

“Did witch hunters try to kill you?”

Slowly, the boy nodded. He winced slightly, and one hand reached up to brush against the bandage on his head. His other arm buckled, and he fell back onto his elbows.

Ash twisted his fingers in his lap. “I’m Ash.” Anxiousness curdled in his belly. Why would the boy care? He was alone, far from his coven, back from the dead.

But the boy met his gaze, sorrow-flecked but lucid. “I’m Laramie.”

Laramie. A poetic name, a breath of wind through leaf-kissed branches.

“I’m glad you didn’t die,” Ash said.

Laramie’s gaze slipped to the window, moonlight draped over him like a veil. “Me too.”