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#but im excited for captivity flashbacks šŸ˜ˆ
oddsconvert Ā· 2 years
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Shattered #3 - Trials & Tribulations
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CW: References to Vampire Whumper, Vampire Caretaker, Pet/Bloodbag Whumpee, References to captivity, Recovery Whump, Wound cleaning, Drugs/Medication, Stripping of clothes (Non-sexual, for wounds), Vegetative State/Disassociation, Use of hypnosis/mind control, Choking, Mentions of death, Illness/infection, Referenced previous abuse
Taglist: @octopus-reactivated @whatwasmyprevioususername @ramadiiiisme @darkthingshappen @whumpsday @thecyrulik @t0rture-me @redwhump @the-non-binary-cowboy @snowstuffscuff @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @wolfeyedwitch @interdimensional-chaos @no-terms-and-conditions-apply @whump-blog @leyswhumpdump @not-a-space-alien @onlybadendings @darlingwhump (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed šŸ‘€)
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Was this a foolish endeavour? Such irrational attachment and concern for a mere mortal, one August didn't even know existed until a day prior.
Because August would turn the world upside down if it meant that Declan could understand that he was finally safeā€¦finally free. To know that his captivity and all its pain was a burden of his past, and that August would be honoured to ensure the safety of his future.
And with the unsettling way in which the boy's struggling breath wheezed from his bruised chest in the troubled slumber, dead-weight slumped in August's arms and the nauseating temperature pressing against him: skin to skin. Fire to ice.
August knew this was right.
Declan just needed someone - anyone to care. That's all he had ever wanted as well. When he could want, that is. When his mind still allowed him the capacity for desires and dreams. If only he were lucid enough to know that his wishes were coming true.
Night after night locked away in the vampire's basement, silently praying for someone to drag him out from the pits of hell, far away from the devil himself. The only company had been the lingering pain that had scarily become a comfort: after the beatings came merciful silence. Vince would leave him to writhe and sob in agony but at least he left - maybe only for a short while but it was a break nonetheless. Relief from constant torment.
August had called ahead of his arrival back home, asking his housemate to prepare Declan's new room and to begin setting up the medical equipment from his work study. He was beyond grateful that he had Lucas, a human, on side to ease Declan's recovery. It would help him acclimatise to the new environment, to have a sense of familiarity.
But also to vouch for his character. As much as August desperately wanted the boy awake, aware and able - there remained a niggling feeling pitting in his stomach. Dread. Dreading that moment where their eyes would lock for the first time, the inevitable strike of panic and a wash of pure terror in which Declan would realise:
Another vampire.
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A corpse? Surely notā€¦
Lucasā€™ jaw damn near broke from his skull when it dropped from bewilderment, eyes captivated by the harrowing sight of the lifeless boy cradled in close towards his friendā€™s chest; ashen-faced and lank limbs swaying loosely through the air. His lips were turning blue.
The vampire had warned him the new human he was going to collect was in rough shape; battered and broken. But thisā€¦ this was beyond comprehension - a knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach.
August quickly scurries through the door, neglecting to notice or even acknowledge his friend standing dumbstruck in the hallway. Instead he hurriedly rushes past, barrelling up the stairs and carrying Delcan into one of the bedrooms.
The poor thing is just so incredibly feather light, and so unbelievably frail; he feels as fragile as fine china. So much so that August is hesitant to place him down in fear of him smashing to smithereens. He gently lowers Declan on top of the bed, allowing the limp form to slowly slip from his grasp - plummeting into the soft sheets that cushions the slight drop.
He wants to wrap the boy up in heaps of warm fluffy blankets, to tuck him in and leave him in peace to get the rest that heā€™s been so deprived of, the sleep heā€™s been refused for who knows how long? Alas, they must get the hard part out of the way.
When August had become a doctor, opening a surgery within his own home, he wanted to help ease the suffering of humans, lessen their horrific ordeal - he'd never anticipated it going down the malicious path it did. His skillset grew to be used against him; affluent, high class vampires dropping half-dead yet 'valuable' pets on his doorstep - demanding a miracle. It quickly transpired that his work made no difference to people's lives, he was essentially slapping a band-aid on them and shipping them back to torment .
A vicious cycle of fixing blood bags up to send them on their merry way and then bought back again the next time they were nearly killed. But maybe this time, with Declan, he could actually make a difference. He could actually save a human. And they could remain saved.
Augustā€™s ears twitch at the light pitter patter of footsteps creeping into the room behind him, swiftly followed by the waft of fresh, delicious blood that makes his nostrils flare and fangs itching to bare. Heā€™d been around Declan for so many hours now, inhaling the rancid smell of near-decay that heā€™d almost forgotten how tempting that scent was.
ā€œAugust, I -ā€ Lucas whispered with concern, fiddling with his fingers from the nerves.
ā€œI knowā€¦ I know.ā€ August cuts him off, not turning his head away from Declan laying on the bed - running the back of his knuckle lightly across his bony, sweat-drenched cheeks as though to lessen the blow when he stabbed the cannula into the back of his hand. He couldn't stop trying to redundantly comfort and soothe the boy, it was in his nature.
What does he know? Lucas ponders to himself. Does he know that boy looks like heā€™s already knocking on deathā€™s door? Does he know that heā€™s definitely in way over his head?
ā€œIs he even alive?ā€
ā€œJust about.ā€ August sighs, not entirely convinced himself, ā€œHeā€™s really fighting, Lucas. Clinging on to life by a thread.ā€ August now fiddled with numerous pouches of IV antibiotics, painkillers, nutrients - pulling the stands by Declan's bedside ready to flush into his body.
ā€œHis owner was a cruel bastardā€¦ another day with him and he would be a goner-ā€
ā€œHow can I help?ā€
ā€œI - I need some help undressing him if you don't mind. I need to examine his injuries, send some painkillers in his system, get him cleaned up. Could do with a hand?"
"Anything you need, man."
As the pair peel away the still drenched clothes clinging to Declan's skin, August freezes. Rolling Declanā€™s shirt up to reveal his torso covered in vicious and recent injuries littering the entirety of his body. Raw, weeping gashes from whip marks, smoldering blistering burns, deep slashes from stab wounds - warm colourful bruises spotted around his skin in polka dots. All overlayering already healing scars and marks.
ā€œVince said Declan has been like this for monthsā€¦ā€
Lucas stops what heā€™s doing, remaining silent and cautious as his eyes land on his friend who stands lightly tracing delicate fingers around heated, wounded skin on the boy.
ā€œThese woundsā€¦ I - they canā€™t be anything more than a few weeks oldā€
August retreats and slightly paces, sticking his tongue in his cheek and clenching his fists. He had half a mind to return to Vince's manor and drive a wooden stake through the fuckers's heart - provided he actually had one. But that would be too dignified an end for the likes of him.
ā€œEven in this helpless state he was still being hurt - thatā€™s fucking sick-ā€
ā€œHe doesnā€™t deserve this-ā€, Lucas sighs sympathetically in agreement, clutching onto Declan's hand and giving it a firm squeeze.
ā€œNobody deserves this - was killing his soul not enough? He needed to break his body as well as his mind?! A race to see which one cracks first-ā€ August was almost screaming the words, disgust and fury warping together.
ā€œYouā€™re right to be angry about this, August. Itā€™s disgusting. But you need to channel that anger into something positive, to help Declan.ā€
Damn it, he was right. He couldn't allow himself to get emotional - he needed to detach himself and focus on Declan's health. The time could come later for righting wrongs - he needed to get the boy through this first.
August didn't know if Declan could even register pain anymore. He hoped he couldn't, as he returned to his side, beginning to run alcohol swabbed cotton along his infected bites - knowing that this should draw a hiss of discomfort from the sharp sting. Repeating the disinfecting on his numerous wounds, dressing them all in fresh bandages. Feeding the drips into his veins - they were impossible to find with how much weight he'd lost, they were almost invisible and hiding.
ā€œCan you fix him up with something to eat? Something easy, something smooth - I wouldnā€™t know whatā€™s best-ā€
ā€œDonā€™t worry, I got it.ā€
Lucas returns a short while later, clutching a bowl with a thick red liquid sloshing around its edges. It looks delicious. It looks like blood. But the sickly scent fills August's nostrils and he nearly wretches as the taste infects his mouth, covering his nose from the smell. He tries to suss out what it is.
ā€œWhat is that?ā€
ā€œTomato soup. Itā€™ll be easy for him to swallow, he wonā€™t have to chew", August pulls an unsure face but accepts the food with a thankful nod.
"August, I must ask... Is it your intention to feed from the boy?"
"Oh goodness, no! I know Vince said that he'll probably get through a few more days, but I believe that one last feed will be his end. He needs to recover", August reassures, though slightly offended at the implication. Declan wasn't food or prey - not anymore. He was a patient under his care.
When Lucas leaves the room, smiling with satisfaction at his friend's answer, August turns to return to Declan, he spots those big brown eyes staring off into space. Heā€™s awake, which is a good sign.
"Heyā€¦ Declan. I bought you something to eat. My friend tells me it's motato soup or something? God, I hope you like thatā€¦". He perches on the side of the bed, helping Declan up into a sitting position and trying to get a spoon of soup into his parted lips.
But Declanā€™s body refuses to cooperate, his woozy head continuously dropping to fall back asleep.
"Come on, buddyā€¦just a few spoonfuls - then you can sleep as much as you want-"' his fingers catch Declan's head before it flops again, "in your nice, comfy bed, hm?" August ā€˜s palms trail across the soft blanket sitting underneath Declans body, fingertips trailing through the fibres beside the boyā€™s legs. A luxury he was well aware Declan was never allowed, he'd spotted the grimy, ripped mattress with rusting springs popping out when he'd picked the boy up. And specks of what he could only assume was dried blood; he didnā€™t want to think about that.
A part of him was frightened that if he let the boy fall back to sleepā€¦
Well, what if he never wakes up?
Declan blinks, his lip drooping as the spoon enters his mouth, tipping the warm gooey liquid onto his tongue. But as it slides down past his tonsils and to his throat, his body begins rebelling against the sensation, spluttering and choking as his body heaves and gags. A gasping, gurgling noise sounding from his throat.
ā€œNononono, shit!ā€, August frantically crawls to his side, throwing his fists around Declan's ribcage and abdomen, thrusting him backwards to get the thick liquid back up his throat before finally bending him over to the side of the bed and getting him to throw up.
Declan sits wheezing with bile trickling down his chin, short chesty breaths, August holding him in his arms and rubbing his back.
"There you areā€¦you're okayā€¦you're good"
August is so exhausted already. So frustrated. He sits Declan upright in the bed. If he lays him down and he retches again, heā€™ll choke. Game over. He picks up the bowl and the spoon and storms out the room, slamming the door so hard cracks splinter within the walls.
He isnā€™t furious with Declan, he could never blame him for whatever hell he endured to end up like this. Heā€™s furious with the entire situation. Furious with Vince. And furious with every bastard vampire that selfishly puts their own hunger above the life of another being.
As he enters the kitchen, he lunges the bowl flying straight at the wall with a growl. The ceramic smashes to pieces, crashing to the ground with thick tomato soup coating and splashing against the walls and marble floors. The tremendous bang alerts Lucas who comes speeding into the room
ā€œWhat the hell happened here?!ā€
Lucasā€™s sight lands on his friend, crumbled to the ground, head in his hands, panting with anger. August brings his hands to cover his face as he screams into his palms with defeat, muffling it.
"Hey, hey, hey, what happened?" Lucas crouches beside him, a hand landing on his shoulder, rubbing it to console him.
"I knew it was bad. That his mind was mush butā€¦ fuck, Lucas! He can't even eat!"
"What if ā€¦ you persuaded him to eat?"
"Then what's the point of us doing this? What's the point in doing any of this if we have to resort to the very thing we rescued him from?"
Lucas listens. Thatā€™s what August needs right now, just someone to recognise and hear that heā€™s trying.
"He'll never heal if I have to control him just for survival. His mind needs a complete respite from justā€¦ functioning."
"What do you plan on doing then, whereā€™s your head at?"
"I don't know.." he runs his fingers through his hair, deep in thought, "Seeing if we can get some liquidized food down him without retching? Feeding tube? Intravenous nutrition?". All such invasive procedures, most needing anaesthetic. August wasn't sure Declan's body could handle that much physical stress.
"I did do some research before buying Declan; on vampires, our abilities, the effect of persuasionā€¦Have you ever heard of the fungi: Ophiocordyceps unilateralis?"
"I - what?", Lucas stares blankly, befuddled.
ā€œZombie-ant fungi. It's a fungus in the Amazon rainforest that infects ants, hijacking their mind and draining its nutrients. They corrupt the host, seize control of its muscles - the infection causes the neurons that control the body to die. Its brain is still in the driver seat, but the fungus has the wheel."
"Sound familiar?" August lets out a faux scoffed laugh, pointing his finger to the ceiling where Declan's room lays above.
"Persuasionā€¦", the puzzle pieces click together. There could be an answer.
"I have a connection in Brazil that has been researching fungi and the insects it hijacks, trying to develop a sort of antidoteā€¦antivenom per se to vampiric persuasion. Itā€™s in very early development butā€¦ they think they may be onto something. Itā€™s shown to have a significant effect in reducing its effects on humans."
ā€œWell, shit! how do we get our hands on some?ā€
ā€œIā€™ll reach out to them, she owes me a favour. See if I can get my hands on a sampleā€¦ it may not work, but itā€™s worth a try, right?"
ā€œThat or let him die.ā€
There's a beat of awkward silence. The two sit slumped together on the floor, glaring at their folded knees.
"Lucas, I think itā€™s best if we don't get our hopes up.ā€ August chimed in, realising their doomed mission and the hoops they needed to jump through to save the human.
ā€œI hate to say thisā€¦ I agree.ā€
ā€œHeā€™s in rough shape, itā€™s a very slim chance he might make it. We can only do our best for him now, either help him turn the tide or offer him comfort in his final days. But we couldnā€™t have left him there.ā€
ā€œWhat weā€™re doing is very experimentalā€¦ itā€™s not guaranteed to work-ā€
ā€œButā€¦you did say their research had promising resultsā€
ā€œAnd it does, but itā€™s still in early development. Itā€™s never been tested on a case like this.ā€
Maybe it was cruel to put Declanā€™s body through this amount of stress; maybe the kinder thing to do would be to let him go, and to end the suffering. Even with this 'antivenom', 'vaccine', whatever you'd like to call it: it wasnā€™t guaranteed to work, and if it did he still wouldnā€™t be out of the woods for a while - it would be taxing.
But it just felt so wrong to let him slip away. To not be given a fighting chance. August pulls his phone out of his pocket and pulls up his contacts, hovering his finger over the name of his old university friend.
Hoping with his whole heart that she can offer some help.
Some light in the dark.
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