#coconut the whumpee | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maybeitsalivescribbles · 7 months

Text

AilessWhumptober 23 - 5 Hostage

Near Unbreakable 1/2

Summary: This badass lady is the Second-in-command of her beloved team. She can kick anyone’s ass and the tiny Whumper is obviously no match for her. So when she volunteers to stay with the guy for one day, nothing bad is gonna happen….right ?

badass whumpee/protective caretakers/pathetic whumper

tw: hostage, lady whump, torture (implied), death threats, locked in a small space

***

“You ? It’s you ?” burst out Leader to the grinning face of Whumper. “You’re the one who are supposed to meet us ? Oh, the deal is off. Let me offer this instead.”

He drew out his combat knife, his face grim.

“You give us what we want and I don’t gut you like a fish. On second thought, I might do it anyway.”

“Do that and see how this is going to work out for you,” purred the tiny man. “You promised to let a hostage for the day to my team, and I guarantee you that you won’t like what will happen if you don’t.”

Leader's hand clenched on his weapon:

“I agreed because I thought you were fired and starving somewhere like you deserve.”

“Well, life is full of disappointment. I thought that after our little meeting, you would die of blood loss.”

Some teammates couldn’t help but glance at the right arm of their Leader – the one that missed a hand. The man had a small smile of contempt. His knife glinted.

“Come and see for yourself how helpless I am, coward.”

The Mediator, who was the diplomat of the team, squeezed his shoulder.

“I don’t think this will be necessary. In our negotiations, we have made very clear that if we found a single scratch on the hostage, we would retaliate once we were done. They agreed on this, they even proposed to give us the potential offender.”

“Oh, I see,” groaned the Leader. “So they were counting on the sadistic bastard to go berserk on one of my men so they could get rid of him by giving him to us, while keeping their hands clean ? It that what that means ?”

“I thought he was dead,” whispered Mediator. “We all thought he was. Am I calling them ?”

“There’s no time ! We need to do this today ! Let’s go back, team. We’ll find another way.”

He was going to turn around, but another hand on his shoulder stopped him. He looked up, up and up to meet the eyes of his Second-in-command.

“You’ve just said it,” she softly said. “There is no time.”

“So ? ”

“Don’t sweat it, boss. I’m gonna stay with him. You don’t need me to finish the mission.”

“No. No way. Absolutely not. You are not doing this.”

“ Then what ? People are counting on us. We can’t fail. I can do this. Besides ” -she rubbed her thumb and her index together - “ I could snap him in two between my fingers.”

“Well great, you’ll do this after the mission, as a treat – come on.”

“It’s just for one day. I’m gonna be all right.”

Leader was going to retort, but he glanced at the scowling face of Whumper, who stared at the mountain of muscles that was his Second-in-command. He was still repulsed by the idea, but a small part of his mind was entertained by the idea of letting alone the tiny, slimy bastard with someone who could break coconuts with her bare hands. Besides, she was right. There was no time to lose, and doing what was planned was the quickest way to finish the mission.

“If I might interrupt,” sniveled Whumper, “that doesn’t seem quite logical to me. You have to admit, Leader, that Mediator has made a big mistake in negotiating. He did neglect my resurrection and I resent that. He should be the one to stay behind.”

His eyes examined the small, thin Mediator with something that looked way too much like hunger. Leader, Second-in-command, and other Teammates took a step forward.

“Come and take him”, they retorted at once.

Whumper recoiled, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

“ Fine, fine. The huge lady it is.”

The Leader examined her, a worried expression in his face.

“ I don’t like it. I hate it. You sure about this ?”

She nodded, her eyes soft:

“Trust me.”

“Don’t get cocky. The bastard is rotten as hell. He will try to stab you in the back.”

“He won’t be able to. Rely on me, please. The stakes are too high.”

Leader narrowed his eyes at Whumper.

“One scratch”, he grunted. “One single scratch. And you’re done.”

He squeezed the arm of his Second-in-command:

“And you, toughie, we’re getting you back in one piece at sunset. This is a promise. And an order.”

“I got it, boss.”

He hugged her grumpily, and so did the other members of the team, promising they would be back for her as soon as they could, as if they were going for an easy stroll themselves instead of a dangerous journey. The Mediator hugged her the tightest of all.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered in her ear.

She tapped his cheek playfully in answer, and soon after they were all gone. Whumper and Second-in-command were left alone, staring at each other.

“Nice home you have,” she said. “You play base ball ?”

“No, why ?”

“Oh, so you don’t need that bat on the grass, then.”

She picked it up. The wood creaked when she broke it on her knee. She threw the two parts away from her and stared at Whumper, who looked at her with wide eyes and took a step back.

“I get it lady, I get it – you’re scary. How about a non-aggression pact, uh ? You don’t touch me, I don’t touch you. On second thought, I don’t even want to be near you. Tell you what.”

He pointed at her at a cute little hexagonal structure on the garden, with transparent walls.

“ This is my winter pavilion, where I go to read sometimes. I put a lock on the outside because some kids kept stealing my gardening tools. How about you stay there for the day ?”

She shrugged:

“Fine. But first you’re calling your chief. And then you’re taking a picture of me and you send it to them.”

“Is that really necessary ?”

“Yes. I’m making sure they know we fulfilled our end of the deal. I’m not letting you lie and put my team in jeopardy.”

“You’re no fun,” sighed Whumper, “but as you wish.”

The call being made, she went to the little pavilion and allowed him to lock her in. He had taken care of putting away the gardening tools before, which had made her roll her eyes, so she had plenty of space for herself. She sat nearby a little pile of books, but there were all botanical guides, and none of these interested her. Soon enough, she rested her cheek on the hardcover and went to sleep. Dawn had barely broken.

She woke up with a throbbing headache. Grunting, she held out her hand, groping for her bag. (Whumper had tried to suggest she could do without, but she had given him A Look and he had not mentioned the subject anymore. She had already left her weapons behind but as far as she was concerned, she didn’t need them and it was the only compromise she was willing to make.) Pulling out her flask and taking a sip, she winced. The water was warm. She forced herself to drink a little, but her stomach growled in disagreement. Still, she drank. The Mediator was very adamant about making his teammates stay as hydrated and well-rested as possible. In fact, he was the only reason why her flask was full to begin with (and her bag much too full of snacks).

She stared wishfully at her phone, but she had no one to call. It would have been useless at best and dangerous at worst to distract her teammates or signal her presence in any way to anyone else. Besides, the reception here seemed not very good. She poured a little water on her hand and rubbed it on her temples and neck. That relieved her a bit. Since it was officially the morning now, she wondered if she should eat. At the thought, her stomach turned into a knot. The idea of eating anything solid made her wince. Frowning, she touched her forehead. It was burning. She clicked her tongue, her throat already dry, and watched outside.

Whumper’s garden was nothing to be proud of. There were some cacti here and here that seemed to do well - they looked even taller than her - but the rest of the plantations seemed wilted. Burnt, even. She glanced at the yellow grass, then at the sky. It was a magnificent blue, without a cloud on the horizon. Even inside, she felt the scorching of the sun, so she looked for a little shade. There was none. Every furniture had been taken away. There was only the pile of books. Grunting, she put a cap on. It was not optimal, but it was better than nothing. She accidentally touched the walls and recoiled. There were white-hot. On the other side, there were the gardening tools, and finally she realized something. A detail.

She wasn’t in a pavilion. She was in a greenhouse. And she was going to understand how an ant felt under a magnifying glass very soon.

The sequel (prompt Heat Stroke) is here.

7 notes · View notes

whumpshaped · 2 years

Note

I hope you're doing fine after the break, I'm sending you lots of hugs, Zi!

Some random questions for you:

What's your favourite spice? With which food it matches the best?

Villain x Hero or Whumpee x Caretaker?

What's your favourite flower? What's beautiful about it?

The song that seems silly but you like to dance and sing to it anyway.

If you could be either a ballet dancer or professional parachute jumper what would you choose and why?

There is Mind Reading, Teleportation and Shapeshifting, you can give those abilities to any person on earth (in any time), but you can't choose yourself. Who do you choose?

~ 🍪

hewwo :3

chilli...

every food.

whumpee x caretaker

iiii dont have a favourite... i love all of them... so pretty... i like the shapes and the colours... and the texture too, theyre all so soft

the coconut song.

the ballet dancer to be able to dance the swan lake bc i rly like that. also im scared of heights so-

i'd give it to @whumpsday i just feel like they'd have a blast

#asks #cookie anon

5 notes · View notes

99point9percentwhump · 8 months

Note

I'm bored..let's play a good old game of..this or that.. cookie whump flavored addition!

Choc chip chop / mint punch hurt

Whump walnut / caramel comfort

Angst apricot crunch / fudge fight

Coconut out cold / coco compress

Broken banana / run over raisin

Stabby strawberry / burned berry

Toffee toothless / broken biscuit

Shot cherry / hung walnut

Fever fudgy / dunking peanut

I admit that's all I got for now 🤣

Mwahahahahaha ok lets seee....

Mint punch hurt : cuz lets me honest all my mind went to was a whumpee being beaten/punched out and left in the cold mwhahahah

Whump walnut : Whump always I can make the comfort in my mind late

Angst apricot crunch : I do love a proper angsty scene so many options to torture orwhat have you with my man

Coconut out cold : There is nothing like a whumpee finally losing a battle with consciousness and being defensless and vulrnable 🥺

Broken banana / run over raisin : .... wut.. I dont even know how to answer this one I just kinda.. want to tentatively... yes 🤪

Stabby strawberry : I do love a good old stabbing the pain the blood loss eeeeeeeeeee

Broken biscuit : .... I guess it kinda is like a whump cookie just more beaten saksjskjskj

Shot cherry / hung walnut : Ok... am I that bad or did you not think the latter thru 🙈 okokok seriously shot cherry gives me two diff ideas the obv "shot" and one of my rare favs forced to drink booze

Fever fudgy : ASDFGH please give me a poor feverish weak man coated in sweat eyes unable to focus and too weak to stand!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I tried to be serious but the names @whumpookies XD

#ask #tag game #whump cookies

1 note · View note

cowboy-anon · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Apple-Verse

Meet the Apple-sonas! (16 and counting!)

In the event that you have no idea what I’m talking about, long story short, we started talking about Apple the Whumpee AUs. Thus Banana and Orange were born! And then we got to talking and we got to Tree! And then Lettuce! And then Radish. And Wine. And-- look, just check out below to learn about them all lol.

CW: Alcohol/alcoholic, blood, implied dissociation, degrading language, DUB-CON mention, emotional manipulation, exhaustion, fire, flaying (skinning) mention, inadvertent manslaughter, institutionalized slavery, low self esteem, kinda masochist whumpee, minor whumpee (not anymore but was), neglect, NON-CON mention, parental death mention, pet whump, poor self care, self harm, Stockholm Syndrome, torture mention, “would rather die” than do something

-> Dub-con and Non-con mentions apply to Wine and his universe’s Benji. Briefly mentioned and not at all in depth, but please proceed with caution. (Second-to-last Apple-sona on the list.)

OG Apple

Sweet boy Apple who can do no wrong. Lovely green hair, is obsessed with Clay, who hates him. Master of persuading himself Clay’s neglect is for good reason. Would die before admitting otherwise.

Banana

Yellow haired Apple, has a little bit of common sense in the form of a voice in the back of his head telling him he deserves better. Very often ignores said voice, is widely considered the weakest of all the Apples. On the plus side, Clay likes Banana more than Apple’s Clay likes him.

Orange

Orange haired Apple, so blind to the neglect he doesn’t even have to rework it in his head to justify the action. It just is. Orange’s Benji very much worries for him.

Tree

Apple the gentle giant. Still very much obsessed with Clay but terrified of him too. Also obsessed with Marvel movies. Loves saying “I am Groot” jokingly but absolutely introduces himself as “I am Tree.” Lowkey annoys the bejesus out of his Benji.

Lettuce

The Apple of Health Nut Clay. Is forced to exercise to near exhaustion and does so happily. Is secretly jealous of Benji, who is dissected for being the “near perfect” human pet. Self harms in the form of skinning.

Radish

Apple with reddish-pink hair, was actually chosen as a stress reliever by and for Clay. It’s not so much neglect as straight up torture. Almost always covered in blood, terrifies the Benji in that AU and is used to scare them straight.

Watermelon

Apple with split hair dye, half reddish-pink, half green, with an entirely black wardrobe. Cares very little about what his Clay thinks of him. The same goes for his punishments. Is very attached to his Benji though.

Coconut

Apple with iridescent hair. Considered the prettiest of the Apple-sonas, his Clay practically worships him. He’s punished sensibly and made “pretty,” and Coconut kind of likes it. Resident misunderstood Apple-sona.

Pomegranate

Apple with pink hair. Spontaneous and horrible at planning. Tries to please his Clay with a combination of gut feeling and a lack of common sense. Very often misreads the room and ends up infuriating his Clay more than anything else.

Cow

Apple with cow print hair. Yes, I am aware he’s not named after a plant lol. Not as infatuated with his Clay as the rest of the Apple-sonas. Has a bull-like temper but is very easygoing otherwise and has a soft spot for outsider Apple-sonas. Has a gold septum piercing and ear tag (like a cow) and is the best of all the Apple-sonas at applying hair dye.

Dragon Fruit

Apple with reddish-pink hair and plenty of light blond highlights. A pyromancer who lost his parents in a fire of his own creation. Hates his powers and hides them from Jimmy, who is trying to help him through his internalized traumas. Very much wants to help others but is afraid of hurting them.

Cactus Pear

Apple with dark magenta hair. Known for his prickly and standoffish nature. Is very affectionate towards his Clay, who treats him very well but also emotionally manipulates him into believing he’s the only one who’ll ever love him. Incredibly dependent on Clay but also very lonely. A hopeless romantic.

Elppa

Apple with bright red hair. Also lived the opposite of Apple’s life. The salesman saved him, Clay cared for him, and Jimmy is the one who kidnaps and tortures him. Doesn’t understand the other Apple-sonas’ hatred towards their Clays. Dislikes most of them greatly because of it.

Fig

Apple with long, purple to pink ombre hair. Selectively mute and has a very pronounced slouch from his four years with the salesman. Was then sold to Clay and preened. Began speaking again. However, he was only cleaned up to be sold again. In Jimmy’s care, began to regress. Still exhibits muteness. Winner of the ‘Saddest Apple-sona Prize.’

Peach “Star Fruit”

Apple with peach hair. Very similar to OG Apple but has an extreme passion for astrology. Very quiet, shy, and self conscious about said passion. However, after gushing about it, he earns himself the nickname “Star Fruit“ amongst the Apple-sonas.

Cherimoya

Apple with natural hair. *gasp* Was born into the system, trained and groomed and kept unmarked and adorable so that when their owner finally got a hold of them, they’d be lovely to break. Jimmy “saved” them before that. Now they live with Jimmy, naive and with no real understanding of how the world works. Very much only wants to please their Jimmy despite Jimmy’s best efforts to show them they’re human, not a pet.

Wine

Apple with dark red hair, the Apple of Alcoholic Clay. Alcoholic Clay regularly is intimate with Benji, who is usually unresponsive, so when he is especially tipsy, he goes to Wine, who actually very much enjoys their time together because Stockholm Syndrome. Afterwards, however, Clay always gripes about how disgusting Wine is, leaving Wine very confused but also very much in love.

Bonus - Dirt

Pet Clay AU. An outcast like Coconut. Is a frightened and skittish whumpee and very obedient. So beat up and ruined that the other Apple-sonas barely recognize him.

Headcanons by the Official Apple Party Headcanoner

(x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

Apple-sona Art!

All the Apple-sonas to Date! / Star Fruit (x) / Cow (x) (x) / Lychee (x) /

19 notes · View notes

sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

Text

Apples belong to @cowboy-anon

Cow, Coconut, Star Fruit (peach)

#i love every single one of them #they are like pokemon #can you catch them all?#welcome to the apple-verse #peach 'star fruit' the whumpee #cow the whumpee #coconut the whumpee #my art

14 notes · View notes

brutal-nemesis · 3 years

Text

Arthropod Day 2021: 🦀Time For Crab 🦀

Malacostraca Moment 😳🦀

So fun story I wanted this to be on a Saturday because SIDEWAYS SATURDAY but when I was deciding on the date I looked at the calendar for July without realizing it. Happy Sideways Stuesday I guess?

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: drowning mention, animal attack (kinda chill tho it’s not really violent), dehydration, autocannibalism mention, parasitic insects, partial nudity, heckin surgery (but it’s CONSENSUAL (⊙ˍ⊙) who am I), suicide for convenience (immortal)

“This looks like a lovely spot for a vacation; thank you guys so much for finding it for me.” The small dingy had just landed on a sandy beach enclosed by dark rocks on either side, a lush forest leading deeper into the island. Casyts’s captor glared at him before harshly tugging the rope tied to his wrists, trying to get him to stand and step onto the beach with her.

“Shut your trap, Ragnarok, or I might change my mind about gagging you. Now get up or I’ll have my men drag you.”

Castys sighed and rolled his eyes, getting up and following her so his rope burn didn’t get any worse. “Aye aye, Yvonne.”

“That’s Captain Veldna to you,” she growled, jerking him forward. He stumbled a bit, but he was able to catch himself before he got sand up his nose. He debated trying to yank the rope out of her hands and running away or stealing the boat, but her very strong men were right behind him and that would probably just end in him having extra bruises. So he just followed her like a stupid little goat as she led him towards the rocks, hoping she wouldn’t leave him tied up so he could at least enjoy his time being stranded. But no, this was about sending a message to his crew or making him suffer or something. He didn’t really remember, he’d been dazed as hell when he’d initially gotten captured during a fight between their two ships. Blood loss was a bitch sometimes.

They forced him to sit with his back against a large rock, yanking his bound hands above his head and worming a large nail through the knotted rope before hammering it into the rock. “Not gonna lie, this seems a little extra. I’m not going to go anywhere, so, like, just let me-” Yvonne slapped him harshly across the face.

“You’re not here to have fun, you annoying little parrot.” She looked over at her men, who had just finished tying his ankles together and nailing them down in a similar fashion to his wrists. “If you lot are done, let’s leave.” She turned back to Castys, a wicked grin on her face. “I wonder how many times you’ll die before your crew finds you?”

“My money’s on eight. Do you want me to keep track and tell you next time we see each other? If only I could write in a diary what horrors I suffer sitting on this warm rock that you tied me to during high tide so I won’t even drown later. Now that-agh!” Yvonne stabbed him in the stomach, and Castys bit back a scream as she twisted her blade.

“The sound of your silence is something I could get used to.”

“Well, the real question is, is silence actually a sound-” Castys’s very valid observation was cut off by the bitch yanking out her sword and promptly kicking him in the stomach. He couldn’t help but cry out, doubling over as far as he could. Yeah, yeah he should probably just shut the fuck up and let them get on their merry way before he got more unnecessary injuries.

“Enjoy your vacation, Ragnarok,” Yvonne spat. As one last gesture of maturity, she kicked sand at him before walking off, and some of it definitely got in his stab hole, so that was nice. He watched them row away, sighing. Now it was just boredom city, but hey, at least he had a nice beach view. The sun was a few hours away from setting, not that it mattered that much since his skin was dark enough that he probably wasn’t going to get sunburned.

Being tied to a rock on the beach was...just about as boring as he expected. His arms got all tingly after a while from being stuck above his head, so he couldn’t even properly relax, and a man could only watch little waves roll for so long. He had a nice view of the setting sun, and hey, that means the light of dawn wouldn’t be shining in his face. While the sun was still a little ways above the horizon, he heard an odd rustling noise over in the vegetation, different from the background sounds he had gotten used to. He looked over, hoping it was a friendly man with a knife.

It was not a friendly man with a knife. But it wasn’t something bad, either. “Oh shit hello crabs!” Castys watched as they scuttled out of the treeline onto the beach, glad to have something fun to watch. One of them was slowly making its way towards him, and Castys wondered if he would be able to convince it to snip his bindings. “Hey there mister crab man, come on down, and please for the love of god untie me.” Yes, yes he was talking to a crab, because why not go full send on the insanity right away? It would be so much more fun, and it’s not like anyone else was here to judge him. “Yeah crab get in my zone-wow you’re kinda big.” He’d thought the crab was closer to him, but nope, it had been farther away but giant. Not like giant giant but not, like, normal crab size. It was almost as big as his torso maybe, but he was never great at estimating the relative sizes of things.

“You’re large but you’re a gentleman, ain’t ya? I don’t know why, but you just seem like a polite fellow.” The crab stopped not too far from Castys and just looked at him blankly. Or maybe it was making a face at him, but he couldn’t read crab body language. Could anyone read crab body language? Crabs, he would hope. “Could you bring me some tea, good sir? Or just...water. Water that’s not salty. I don’t actually like tea it literally tastes like nothing but you know what I would drink it now because I am thirsty.” There was a moment of silence. “Not like thirsty in the weird way some people are. I have no idea what that’s about. But like, I want water. Or...oh my god, Mr. Crab, bring me a coconut!” Castys closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Yeah… that would be nice. Food and water and it’s prepackaged and I don’t know how I would eat it because my hands are tied but I’ll figure it out.”

A sudden sharp pinch against his wound jolted Castys out of his daydream. He looked down in horror to see that the crab was holding something in its claws. Something pinkish-red that was dripping blood down onto the sand. The bastard. The crab brought the piece of his flesh to its mouth and just ate it while staring right at Castys. “That,” he blinked in surprise a few times, “was incredibly rude.” The crab stayed still, watching him as it did its weird mouth movements that were maybe chewing. “You are absolutely not a gentleman. I rescind everything. You little garbage boy. Rapscallion. I bet you never get invited to the crab raves.”

And the crab. Had the audacity. To reach out its stupid pincher. And do it again. “Little bitch!” Castys yelled, squirming against the ropes in an attempt to scare the thing off. Shockingly, it did not work, because wounded, dying prey squirmed all the time, and...that’s pretty much what Castys was in this scenario, wasn’t he? He was just stuck sitting here while that stupid crab ripped off little pieces of him with its stupid crab pincher and put them in its stupid crab mouth. If he was lucky, this would make him bleed out and die faster and then he wouldn’t have an open wound anymore, which would be a bonus. Though, it had sand in it, and then if it healed…

A problem for another day.

Not the next day, though, or the one after, because, hooray, he was still tied to a rock, so even though he did die a few hours later, he couldn’t do anything about the Sand In His Insides. He made up a song about it, but singing it loudly did absolutely nothing to scare away the crab, whom he had named Crabstard (Crab Bastard). Crabstard seemed to think Castys was his new best friend, coming back regularly for meals. Castys liked to imagine killing and eating Crabstard as a show of dominance, but that made him wonder...would eating Crabstard be a form of autocannibalism? Because Crabstard had eaten him...

He wasn’t sure what was worse, Crabstard and his stupid giant pinchers, or the mosquitoes. There weren’t a ton of them, but their bites were just awful, littering his arms and legs with swollen, white boils, which were unusual and also very concerning but what the fuck could he do about it. Because of course he couldn’t scratch them, and they itched so much it hurt and he just had to endure it. Just like he had to endure fucking everything. The heat of the sun, the awful tingling in his arms, the soreness of his wrists, Crabstard pinching off bits of his flesh, the maddening pain and itch of all his bug bites, the hunger and thirst, the boredom, and the...the loneliness.

No, he was fine, he was fine with just himself, it was always just him anyway. He wasn’t imagining his crew rowing to shore and untying him and tending to him in his cold, dark cabin, because he couldn’t get his hopes up, because they probably weren’t even coming for him. They were just going to leave him behind like everyone else and fuck he was wasting water like a useless idiot and he couldn’t stop or even wipe them away and he probably deserved this for everything he’d done so what did it matter?

And, great, the next day he started hallucinating a passing ship and a rowboat coming for him. Thank you, dehydrated whore brain! Let’s get our stupid little hopes up! Dang, the people on the boat kind of even looked like some of his crewmates, which was rude of his brain to make this so realistic looking.

It wasn’t until his first mate, Kaveri, was untying him that Castys realized that this was real, that they’d really...really come for him. “I’m so glad we found you, Captain.” She pulled him into a hug as soon as he was free, and he hugged her back as best he could with his sore arms.

“I’m glad y’all did, too.” He leaned back when she let go and looked down at himself, wincing. “Well, before we get back to the ship, I am going to deliver a much needed death upon mys-“

“Captain, Captain, wait,” the ship’s medic, Sixtus, called as he ran over. He knelt beside Castys, taking his arm and examining the bug bites closely. “I knew it. These bites all over you are...they contain fly larvae. We’re going to need to dig them out before you heal yourself.”

“...what if I’ve died since I’ve gotten bitten. Like, earlier.”

“Well.” Sixtus breathed in sharply. “We will just have to wait for them to, uh, let us know where they are.” He sighed. “For now, let’s get you back to the ship and I’ll get out the ones I can. I don’t have the tools for it with me.”

“Can I kill Crabstard first?”

“Crab...stard?” Kaveri gave him a concerned look, and Sixtus felt his forehead.

“He’s a very impolite giant crab. He is my rival. I wish to vanquish him.” The other two shared a look.

“Do you know where this...this crab is?” Sixtus tried.

Castys held up a finger and opened his mouth, pausing for a second before shutting it and blinking a few times. “I. I do not. He just scuttles out of the trees to commit crimes every now and then. He has no friends.”

“Alright, in that case, no. You’re in no condition to wander around the island looking for a crab.” Sixtus held out his hand. “So, come on.”

“Fiiiine,” Castys groaned, letting the taller man help him to his feet. He was a little unsteady, but he was able to make it to the boat with Kaveri’s help. As they rowed away, he turned back to the island one last time, cupping his hands around his mouth as he yelled, “Fuck you Crabstard I hope you starve and die in a pit and the other crabs eat you!”

Once they made it back to the ship, Sixtus ushered Castys into his office, instructing him to sit up on the examination table and take his shirt and pants off. Kaveri helped him, opting to stay in case Sixtus needed a hand. He examined Castys thoroughly, using a lightstone to get a good look at the swollen bug bites littering his body as well as the number of small wounds in his side.

“These from the, uh, crab?” Sixtus asked as he gestured to them.

“Yup. Him and his stupid pinchers.”

“Alright, I know you don’t really get infections, but I’m going to clean these out just to be safe.” He paused. “Also it just feels. Really wrong not to. It’ll bother me if I don’t.”

“Do whatever, doctor man.” Castys did his best not to let his pain show as Sixtus dabbed at his wounds with a stingy liquid. It really didn’t hurt that much, but when Kaveri placed her hand on top of his as he gripped the edge of the table, he didn’t wave her off. He’d let it be Fuss Over The Captain Day. For their sake. Because they seem to have been worried about him.

“Alright, I’m all done with that, so if you could lay down, Captain, I’ll get started with removing those larvae. Kaveri, get him some rum and then hold him down.” She nodded, leaving and returning soon after with a small cup.

“You know, I haven’t had water in days,” Castys mused before winking at her and downing its contents. Kaveri shook her head.

“You literally emptied my waterskin while we were rowing back.”

“Oh dang, I forgot. Nevermind I’m actually not funny and am just stupid.” He scooted a bit and laid down with his hands behind his head. “Get rid of my worms.”

“They’re not-they’re not worms, Captain, they’re insects, since-” Sixtus stopped himself, folding his hands in front of his mouth. “Nevermind.” He cleared his throat. “Arms at your sides, please. Kaveri, if you would.” She nodded, holding down his shoulders as Sixtus turned Castys’s arm, locating the first larva he was going to remove. Castys breathed in sharply as the knife sliced into his arm, doing his best to keep still as Sixtus slid a pair of tweezers into the wound. The rum dulled his senses enough that it didn’t hurt as much as it could, but it certainly wasn’t painless, and he couldn’t help but gasp as Sixtus slowly pulled a small, wriggling grub out of the incision. He dropped it in a metal tray, cleaned the wound, and picked up his knife.

Then the process started all over again.

Castys didn’t bother counting how many times those tweezers probed around inside him, how many wet little plops he heard as another larva dropped into the tray. He focused on staying still, on the prickle of the rough wood table against his bare back, on the feeling of Kaveri’s hands on his shoulders, more comforting than restraining. They reminded him that he wasn’t alone in his suffering, for once. But he wasn’t supposed to need comfort, he was their immortal captain, the one who’d been through everything before and was strong enough to go through it again, the one his crew could always depend on to be strong. And here he was, teeth gritted against the pain, his forehead resting against Kaveri’s arm, fists clenched to mask their shaking, all over a few cuts and some little maggots.

“Alright,” Sixtus wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “I think that’s all of ‘em. That I can see, at least.” He looked down at Castys. “You had seventeen of those things in you, Captain.” He grimaced. “And possibly more, so please let me know if you feel anything, uh, wiggling. But for now, you’re free to...die.”

“Can’t believe I got a new world record for worm friends.” Castys grabbed the small leather pouch that usually hung around his neck from his pile of clothes, pulling it open.

“They’re not worms-”

“Thank you, Sixtus.” With that, Castys stuck his finger in the pouch and touched his death stone. He came back to life feeling infinitely better, but Kaveri and Sixtus still insisted he rest after he cleaned himself up. He grumbled, but he let Kaveri force him into his bed and bring him something to eat. Once he was finished, she collected his plate and stood awkwardly by his bedside.

“Do...do you want me to come back, Castys? Will you be alright?”

“Look, I’m honestly fine, you’re good. I’ve been through a lot worse, and I’m all healed up now so it doesn’t really matter.”

She pursed her lips. “I suppose, but that doesn’t mean that that didn’t still take a mental toll on you, and…” she sighed. “Just...call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do.” She nodded, but as she started to walk away, Castys realized there was something he’d rather not leave unsaid. “Wait, Kaveri?”

“Yes?”

“Th...thank you. For, uh, finding me.”

“Of course, Castys. We’ll always be there for you.” Castys opened his mouth to reply, but he stopped himself and just smiled and nodded, his shoulders only falling once she’d left.

He wished that were true.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump @blackrosesandwhump @fanmanga1357-blog @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hearse-song @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen @galaxywhump @starnight-whump @his-unspoken-words @misspelledwitch

#i wrote something #arthropod day #arthropod day 2021 #castys #immortal whumpee #dehydration cw #animal attack cw #painful caretaking #partial nudity #parasites cw #surgery whump #suicide for convenience #yes the rocks are basalt #welcome to castys's irrational hatred of crabs he now has a blood feud with any and all crabs #using my favorite life hack called ''these crabs are BASED on coconut crabs but since they are fantasy crabs they will do what i want''#the botfly larvae are botfly larvae ✨ grubby boys #i did write portions of this while on an actual beach so like 😎 kinda pog #wasn't gonna do the rescue bit but castys got sad and also that meant SURGERY #*gives sixtus my obsessive wound cleaning tendencies and adherence to biological classification schemes*#this random man can have these little traits of mine. as a treat #also i realized like a day after i named him that he is in the clan of lads who's names end in -us #six letter names that end in -us are simply peak boy name i dont take criticism #i literally have FOUR of them: erebus jairus corvus and sixtus

41 notes · View notes

theres-whump-in-that-nebula · 3 years

Text

Whump Prompt Generator

EDITED TO REMOVE ABLEIST LANGUAGE CIRCA JUNE 4, 2022

… If you use any of these prompts, please either reblog this post or tag me.

...........................

First Letter of your First Name:

Your setting could be described as...

A: Uncomfortable

B: Musty

C: Restraining

D: Spooky

E: Out in the open

F: A hoarder’s paradise

G: Plush

H: Over-the-top

I: Stained

J: Nostalgic

K: Commercial

L: Futuristic

M: Prison

N: Sharp

O: Pretty

P: Awkward

Q: Busy

R: Tight

S: Green

T: A cave

U: Steampunk

V: Retro

W: Fancy and classy

X: Rustic

Y: Allergy-inducing

Z: Cold

...

First Letter of your Last Name:

Your motif will be...

A: Water

B: Lace

C: Darkness

D: Crystal

E: Socks

F: Italy

G: Stars

H: A kite

I: A millstone

J: Music

K: A photograph

L: Butterflies

M: A sculpture

N: Trees

O: Oobleck

P: An old house

Q: A lava lamp

R: Sunshine

S: A cityscape

T: Ink

U: A cypher

V: Books

W: Tools

X: A coconut

Y: Love

Z: Canned food

...

Month of Birth:

Your first sentence will contain the word...

January: Shaky

February: Delirious

March: Agonized

April: Gingerly

May: Tender

June: Coughed

July: Awoke

August: Broken

September: Terrified

October: Overworked

November: Wearily

December: Gone

....

Day of Birth:

Your whumper could be described (either literally or figuratively) as...

1: Happy-go-lucky

2: Cold and calloused

3: Monstrous

4: Greedy

5: Mystical

6: Looming

7: Short

8: Feral

9: Traumatized

10: Animalistic

11: Self-absorbed

12: A cult leader

13: Horrifying to look at

14: A force of nature

15: Too close

16: Bloodthirsty

17: A mighty hunter

18. Misunderstood

19: Bright-eyed

20: Muscular

21: Hairy

22: Quiet

23: Controlled by someone else

24: Snakelike

25: The Devil incarnate

26: Well-dressed

27: Ethereal

28: Disconnected

29: Methodical and deliberate

30: Educated

31: Cracked

...

Favorite Color (pick only your absolute favorite color; no cheating):

Your whumpee has...

(Technical Colors)

Red: Fractured ribs

Red-Orange: Crippling depression

Orange: Photophobia

Yellow-Orange: A sore throat

Yellow: Been shot

Yellow-Green: An infection

Green: Been knocked out

Blue-Green: A death wish

Blue: Been strangled

Blue-Violet: A hand injury

Violet: A concussion

Red-Violet: Pneumonia

(Shades)

Black: Electrical current running through their body

Black-Grey: An unusually-high pain tolerance

Grey: A lot going on all at once

White-Grey: Stockholm Syndrome

White: Paranoia

(Others)

Pink: A broken nose

Mauve: A cold

Magenta: Open sores

Mustard Yellow: Robotic implants

Brown: Been whipped

Light Brown: Been thrown out

Baby Yellow: Been stabbed

Baby Blue: Been attacked by an animal

Baby Purple: Stripes, stripes around their shoulders they got chains, chains around their feet~

Salmon: An important mission

Robin’s Egg Blue: OCD

Sand: Been suspended

Silver: An innocent personality

Gold: The wind knocked out of them

Gunmetal: Been poisoned

Blood Red: Almost been eaten

......................

Happy writing!

#whump #prompt #generator #whump prompt #prompt generator #writing inspiration #inspo #h/c #hurt comfort #h/c prompt #writing prompts #writing #dialogue #character #oc

102 notes · View notes

equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Note

For the BTHB: enemy turned caretaker with Villain whumpee and Hero caretaker ???

Thank you, your writing is amazing. Have a good day!!!

Thank you for the ask and lovely comment! I hope you don't mind that I gave the characters genders as my brain cannot write with neutral ones today, but feel free to imagine the characters as you like.

If you want to send in an ask: here.

Downside to the River

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: beating, intensive description of broken bones (including broken leg, ribs, and jaw), blood, minor vomit, losing consciousness, bathing, enjoying hurting others

Maybe she went a little too far.

Maybe, it was a possibility.

Likely? No.

Unlikely? No.

Did she? Yes.

Now, the real question was... did she care?

In the heat of the moment, that trilogy of words wouldn't dare cross her fired-up mind.

But afterwards? After the deed was done? After she tucked him into bed with a warm blanket?

Yes, she cared. She cared and regretted it.

Let's go back in time for moment, shall we?

July 15, 11:23 PM:

Her fist struck something hard, her ears heard a crack, but her heart felt victory. Her other hand dove in, earning the same satisfying sensation.

"Knock it off, will you?" The villain below her spat, blood circling in the sticky saliva. "I get your point ma'am."

Hero didn't listen. She kicked, landing a near-stunning blow on Villain's chest. He wheezed, coughing and wincing, but he didn't get much time for recovery before another kick sent him hurdling to the ground. He laid there, winded and exhausted, calculating his injuries for greatest to least- he doubted Hero would hurt him further; after all, he was already down.

Yet the otherwise positive premonition failed him. Hero slammed both fists into his temple. Way to kick a man when he's already down, Villain groaned to himself just as stars erupted in his already dimming vision.

He brought himself clumsily to his arms, legs still reclining against the wooden floor. They were on a bridge in the woods, a place that young couples would go for dates on. Though it was more than obvious that wasn't the intention for the late night visit.

Hero pounced, a flying fist meeting his ribcage. Crack! Hero pulled back for moment to allow Villain to collapse on the ground, grunting and moaning weakly, before hopping to her feet and jumping on his side.

"I get your point," Villain growled through clenched teeth.

"I doubt that," Hero retorted, and stomped on Villain's outstretched hand.

"Nngh," Villain replied, pulling in his hand instinctively, but Hero didn't allow for that form of comfort. She placed her shoe onto his wrist and pinned it down.

"Shut up, will you?"

Crrreeeeaaaakkkk

Hero stood up straighter, giving Villain minimal, but relief nonetheless. When the eerie sound didn't come again, she continued her pin of victory.

Creeeeaaakkkk

Hero looked around again, shrugged, but stopped. There was something different in the air.

It was raining.

Not just a drizzle, but a downpour.

Hero looked over the side of the bridge to see raging waters hitting the wooden beams.

Oh crap.

It was a flash flood.

Hero pushed herself away from Villain and bounded to shore. She jumped over pools of mud and water, leaped over fallen branches, and slid over slick slides of leaves.

Before sprinting back home, Hero took a glance over her shoulder at Villain who was struggling to get back on his feet. For a moment, a pure second of temptation, Hero considered going to save him.

No, she told herself, silently shaming herself for those types of thoughts. He is a monster. He brought this upon himself.

Hero looked up again to see the bridge collapse. Villain's arms and legs gave out as a beam smacked into his back, right by the shoulder blades. She didn't have to hear his holler to know the horrible sound that escaped his bloody lips.

As he fell, obviously dazed and disoriented, his skull smashed into a stray piece of wood and he was enveloped by the muddy waves.

July 16, 12:18 AM:

Hero laid upon her bed, aimlessly wrapping a strand of her hair around her index finger, making knots and toying with the invention. Her mind was wandering. Was he dead? Or dying? Was he alone and cold? Or was he not even awake, only his body awaiting inevitable death?

Hero looked out the window and into the dark sky beyond. The consistent tapping on her window told her that it was indeed still raining- pretty heavily at that. But the rain wasn't her concern.

"He is cold," she whispered silently to herself, shaking her head, blonde curls bouncing off her forearms.

She tried to concentrate on her Game of Hair-Knots, but her restless legs walked themselves to the window, her inquisitive eyes looking outside.

Where was he?

She forced herself back to her bed and plopped back onto the comfortable cushioning. She laid her head against the comforter. Should go back out there...

No. She aimed to defeat Villain that night. The task was over, mission finished.

She didn't defeat Villain. The storm did. The intoxicating flash flood that more than definitely was making Villain suffer with dreadful hypothermia.

Save him.

But he is better dead.

It's not right.

I'm saving the world.

You're saving yourself. Go!

Hero rolled onto her back, groaned, and ran down the stairs. She threw on a jacket, grabbed a flashlight and trotted through the booming thunderstorm.

July 16, 12:56:

"Villain!" Hero screamed over the gusts of bellowing winds. She waved her flashlight around wildly. "Villain!"

She was following the river. He had to have turned up somewhere. She shuddered thinking of the waterfall not to faraway from where she was.

It was too crazy of one, but if he fell...

Hero didn't want to think of the "what ifs".

After a few more minutes of looking, she came upon said fall of water. Heart lurching, Hero madly searched around it, desperate to find him before the drop off.

He wasn't anywhere in sight.

Hero ran down the hill that caged the powerful waves up. She tripped over sticks and branches, and even fell a couple times, but kept going.

She had to find him.

And that she did.

His body was laying haphazardly on a rock, completely limp and seemingly unresponsive.

"Villain!" Hero yelled and crouched next to the injured person. Shining the light over his wet face, she could see all the bruises she left, the odd angle his jaw was in, and the smeared trace of blood on his temple where he hit his head earlier.

She let the light wander over the rest of his drenched, and nauseatingly bloody, body. A large wooden beam rested on his leg. His leg, in question, was sticking up on the other side, bent inward with blood staining the pale material of his jeans.

Hero shot straight up to look closer at his leg. If she moved it, she knew it would upset his injuries even further unless, of course, she woke Villain up.

"Hey," Hero tapped Villain's cheek until unfocused eyes open. "Wake up," she whispered.

Villain took a moment to get his bearings, but the moment he did, he screamed. "Hurts, hurts so much," he sobbed. Hero kept her hands rested on his shoulder until he shook them off.

"Get your hands off of me," he growled, glaring at Hero.

She didn't blame him.

But she did ignore him.

"You are trapped under that beam," she informed the villain, pointing to the heavy board that laid upon his lower body. Villain's gaze, still full of hatred, followed her finger.

"I have to lift it. The second I do, drag yourself away. Got it?"

Villain seemed to realize how dire his situation was for he nodded his head. Hero gave an encouraging smile and proceeded to lift the beam.

"Wait," Villain said. "How bad is it?"

"Bad."

Villain noticeably gulped and furrowed his brow.

Hero lined up to the board and wrapped her arms around the slimy material. "Ready? On the count of three. One... two... three..."

Hero lifted while Villain pulled himself to his feet- or foot.

The wood slipped from her hands. Even though her muscles trembled from lifting the beam- thanks to the blessing of adrenaline- she looked at Villain, who was swaying on his foot.

Then she looked down, at his leg.

The bone was popped out of his pants, white and ragged, with cracks running downwards. Hero felt bile rise up her throat, but the nauseating feeling was quickly succumbed when she noticed Villain's eyes roll backwards.

"Crap!" She exclaimed and caught Villain as he collapsed into her arms. His head lolled on her shoulder, body the human equivalent of a ragdoll.

July 16, 2:12 AM:

Hero dragged Villain into the bathroom and quickly got him out of his sodden clothes and wrapped in countless blankets. His lips were an unnatural shade of blue, fingertips waxen in yellow candlewax.

"C'mon bud," Hero murmured, rubbing his wrists to stimulate warm blood flow. She periodically checked hie temperature and smiled as it increased by the decimal.

His hair was matted in dirt and blood- he needed that cleaned immediately before it got into any open wounds. Hero found so many, so many little cuts and deep gashes that she lost count. He would need stitches, antibiotics...

His leg. Surgery was a definite.

But bringing him to a hospital would be suicide for him.

But wasn't I the one who just wanted him dead? The one who left him for dead?

Hero shook her head. That train of thought wouldn't help the situation.

The moment his body temperature was raised enough to safetly bathe him without the risk of even more pain due to the sudden change from cold to hot, Hero filled the tub with warm, vanilla scented water, and lowered him gently into it. She took the showerhead and tenderly rinsed out his hair, picking out hardened bits of mud and dried blood.

He slept through her motherly care, sometimes groaning, but Hero was quick to soothe him.

The next task in cleaning him was shampooing his hair. She scrubbed her coconut scented soap into his hair, then rinsed, dipping his head back to avoid getting it into his eyes.

When the bath was done, Hero wrapped him in a thick bathrobe, tied the front into a bow and carried him to her room where she wrapped a blanket around his sleeping frame.

The last thing Hero did before sitting in a nearby chair was call her friend.

"Caretaker? I kinda have a situation here."

#villain whumpee #injured villain #unconscious whumpee #heros and villains #writing #bad things happen bingo #hero whumper #hero caretaker #storms #broken bones

49 notes · View notes

endless-whump · 4 years

Text

S/O: Allowed to Love

CW: suicidal behavior, attempt to initiate spice as a trauma reaction by noncon survivor, self blaming, panic attack, box boy universe/conditioning, self harming panic/stim behavior

Masterlist

Takes place shortly after A Gamble, where Oliver attempts suicide

Simon had caught him trying to rip his bandages off. He wasn’t sure how it turned into a fight, but somehow Oliver ended up rocking back and forth, begging incoherently as Simon hurriedly tried to talk him down. His mind hurt, it felt blank but at the same time so loud, thoughts clashing in an endless spiral that hurt and hurt and hurt

Why does it hurt so fucking BAD

Oliver tugged at his hair, eyes squeezed shut as he sat, curled up on the couch. Everything hurt and it wouldn’t stop and it never stops.

“Please stop that, Oliver, come on-” He just jerked away when hands tried grabbing at his wrists, almost violent in his attempts to get away from the touch. He didn’t want it, he didn’t deserve it. He just wanted it all to end and Simon stopped him. He didn’t deserve to be helped. He just wanted to die.

“I don’t WANT you to touch me!” Oliver snapped, ignoring the way Simon flinched back at the tone. He ignored it all, scrambling off the couch in a rage of pure anguish he couldn’t seem to control. “I don’t want you to ever fucking touch me again!”

He knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he’d made a mistake. The hurt on Simon's face was immediate, lips pressed together in a thin line as his eyes watered. He rarely ever saw Simon cry, and he didn’t want to now. He’d gone too far, was too blind in his own need to push Simon away.

“I, um-” Simon started to stand, hands lowering. “I’m sorry...I won’t. I can leave, if you want.”

“No, no Simon please I didn’t mean it, please-” He was already getting up, he was leaving and he was angry and he fucked everything up and he needed to fix this, no no no-

He could fix this, he could diffuse this.

Oliver grabbed Simon's shirt, pulling himself close and pushing him back down onto the couch. He barely thought as he straddled the other, his lips crashing into Simons in a desperate attempt to fix this. It ignited a heat in his stomach he’d never felt before, not even with the person he was trained to love and crave. He was pushed away, the kiss breaking just enough for Simon to protest. He looked surprised, brows furrowed in concern and hurt. He was crying and Oliver needed to fix that, he could make it go away. He was always able to make it go away with Cedric.

“Hey..come on, Oliver, you know I can’t-”

“I’ll be good,” Oliver breathed frantically, slipping his hands under Simon's shirt. He could be good, he could make things right again. This was all his fault, everything was crumbling and he was scrambling to piece it back together. He could be so so good and that would fix this, right? This would show Simon that he still wanted him. He nuzzled against Simon's neck with a soft kiss as he moved with skill to unbutton the top button of his jeans, moving with a trained purpose he’d never used for anyone except Cedric.

“Oliver, get off.”

His wrists were grabbed, almost harshly, in an attempt to remove them from his jeans. Oliver ignored the spark of pain in his bandaged arms it ignited, jerking his hands away to shake Simon off and grabbing his waistband again, rolling his hips and pulling him closer.

“Oliver- Oliver I said STOP.”

He was stunned as he hit the floor hard, shoved off Simon with an aggressiveness so rarely directed at him. He was breathing hard, shaking as he stared up at the other as he scrambled off the couch, almost rushing to help Oliver before stopping himself and stepped back.

“I’m..I’m so sorry Oliver, I can’t- I’m sorry.” Simon looked scared, so unsure of himself in a guilt he seemed to be drowning in, judging by his expression. There were tears running down his face, his hands shaking as he held them up, almost defensively.

“I..I can’t.”

And then he was gone. Hurried out of the living room, the door slamming shut behind him and leaving Oliver completely alone.

He just broke the only true connection he ever had with a person, let him walk right out the door. He was gone. The one person he ever loved was gone.

---

“He’s gone,” Oliver said quietly, eyes dull. He held his arms out for Marie, unresisting as she turned his wrists over to inspect them carefully. The stitches had come undone, nothing serious. Just some bleeding.

You could just barely see the bruised imprints of fingers starting to form on his forearms where Simon had grabbed him in surprise, a reminder of just how much strength Simon usually withheld when handling Oliver.

“He’ll come back,” She reassured calmly, watching his demeanor carefully. Simon relied on Oliver more than what was visible on the surface, he’d be back. She saw the way Simon woke up from nightmares, holding Oliver tight to reassure himself, seeming to calm down from just that feeling alone. How he melted right into touch when Oliver offered it, small fingers shily tracing along his skin when he didn’t think Simon would notice. How much Oliver’s extensive efforts and fixation on making food as a way of showing love got to him. How he listened to Simon ramble or read out loud for hours, the older boy able to get extremely talkative with his bonded when given the chance, a stark comparison to his usual, closed off self.

Everything from the late nights spent talking and playing board games to the way Oliver, even with his impaired memory, seemed to remember every little detail of Simon's favorites and hatreds showed a deep commitment he had to Simon that went beyond a need for protection. The damn kid was too nervous to speak up about being allergic to shellfish when Mia gave it to him, only stopped from eating it by Simons frantic intervention, and yet he didn’t hesitate to stop and point out when someone made Simons coffee with regular white sugar. He preferred coconut sugar, apparently.

He gave Simon love in a lot of very quiet ways, but Marie quickly learned to notice it. He gave everything he had to Simon, even if it didn’t seem like he had much. They balanced each other out, in an odd way.

“You love him.” She said softly. She started to wrap Oliver’s arms gently, winding the soft bandaging around again and again as she watched him, trying to gage his reactions.

“Of,Of course I do, I-”

“No, Oliver.”

Oliver froze, glancing up at her. She was giving him a soft, knowing look, resting a hand on his.

“You love him, and you’re pushing him away because you don’t think you deserve him. You think of yourself as just a dependent. I know you just think you’re a burden to him, someone he needs to protect, but you’re more than that.”

Oliver didn’t know what to say. He looked down at his hands, trembling. The room was still as he squeezed his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath.

“Yea. I um...I do love him.” He dropped his head into his hands, hands running through his hair and grabbing lightly. “I love him, and I don’t..I don’t know what to do about it.”

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, Oliver’s breaths feeling loud in the otherwise quiet room. None of this mattered now because Simon was gone, and he took a piece of Oliver with him.

“Oliver..it's ok to love him. You know that, right?”

The silence that stretched between them was answer enough.

“You’re allowed to-”

“No I’m not.” Oliver cut in, voice tight. He looked like he was in pain, staring at the floor with a fierce intensity, brows furrowed. “I’m not allowed to because...because that isn’t fair to him. I love him because that’s w,what I was trained to do, what we were trained to do. It's, It's not fair for me to trap him in that.”

Marie considered him for a moment, pressing her lips together and taking a deep breath through her nose. She wasn’t ever bonded but..she knew what it felt like to be forced to rely on someone. All the rescues did, in some way. Some didn’t even realize it.

“Were you trained to love him, Oliver?”

The boy blinked, finally looking up to meet her eyes. He looked stunned at the question. “Were you trained to love Simon?” She repeated. He licked his lips, gaze drifting over her shoulder as if he was zoning out before returning, expression conflicted.

“I guess..um..no. I wasn’t.”

“Ok then. What were you trained to do with Simon?”

It felt like a trick question. Oliver leaned back a bit, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt as he thought carefully, gaze drifting to his hands.

“I, um, I was trained to trust him. Blindly. And to always listen to him. That he was safe.”

“Ok, and do you? Trust him blindly, always listen to him?”

Oliver shifted uncomfortably, feeling anxious. He wanted to stop, he didn't want to answer these anymore.

“I’m gonna go ahead and answer that for you. No. You ran away from him when he hurt you, when he scared you. You didn’t listen to him when he told you to stop hurting yourself, when you were trying to escape. Oh- and you flat out told him no and hid for an hour when he tried giving you Nyquil.” Marie sighed, rubbing idly at the joint of her thumb. “I know some of those circumstances weren’t healthy, but you know what? The fact that you were able to say no to him is good. You trust Simon but not blindly, not anymore. You love Simon, and not because of anything they put in your brain. You weren’t trained to love him, remember? You might have been forced to trust and obey him, but they never made you love him. Who were you trained to love, Oliver?”

There was a beat of silence before he answered, voice cracking with emotion

“Mr Cedric.”

“And do you love him?”

Another beat, this time carrying a quiet weight of realization.

“No.”

---

taglist

@insanitywishes @18-toe-beans @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @simplygrimly @cinnamonflavoredhugs @finder-of-rings @deluxewhump @ashintheairlikesnow @briars7 @albino-whumpee @thatsthewhump

#whump #angst #box boy universe #hurt/comfort #conditioning #referenced noncon tw #suicide tw #panic attack #Simon and Oliver #my oc's #cough cough friends to lovers #yes we're taking this path #feel free to yell at me #bonded box bois learning how to trust their own abilities to love #pining #seemingly one sided pining

57 notes · View notes

liliability · 4 years

Text

Box Boy Auden- Eavesdropping

Learning a bit more about Daniel Cortes and Sara Bittencourt, a complicated couple with questionable motives behind the purchase of a Domestic/Romantic Box Boy.

First Chapter

CW: Box Boy Universe, briefly references to pet whump, dehumanizating mindset, argument, Sexy and Unedited. The Box Boy in question is 17. No direct whump in this piece, just an inside of Sir and Ma’ams minds.

Daniel Cortes thought his life would settle, once he moved with his wife to the mountains. Stay in his father-in-law's old mansion, leave the leadership of the company to his oldest son, avoid the press after one absurd and yet intrusive polemic with some self-righteous bastard CEO involved with the pet lib movement or whatever performative shit they called themselves.

Instead, he found himself in a new stressful routine, meeting with his lawyer - the boy can't be taken away, the acquisition was legal, it's all just in case, he reassures himself-, trying in vain to talk to his children and tensing, watching attentively as those damned names appeared now and then in the journal or TV- the list was once short, but now there are so many names and colorless faces disturbing his mind.

The Box Boy, needless to say, was a concern on his own, but every time Daniel could relieve his interminable stress in the kid, in many different ways, were a remind of how worthy the purchase was. But still, he couldn't trust the half-trained Boxie the same way his wife did.

When he got up in that morning to pick up his ringing cellphone, early and impossibly loud, Sara was already sitting in the living room's sofa, dressed in a bright red cardigan, waiting for him. She turned off the phone before he could enter the room.

"Who was in the phone?" His voice was still tired from the night before.

"Oh, nothing, just an alarm". Daniel lowered himsef to kiss her forehead. "Slept well, I think. Are you going to stay for breakfast? Auden's in the kitchen making tapioca. They have coconut and condensed milk, just how you like".

"You like. If one of us have a sweet tooth, it would certainly be you". He couldn't keep the smile out of his face. "But unfortunately I can’t. Have to go to the city. Today's Davi's day off and he wanted to talk to me in person."

Sara was suddenly irritated, as she always got when Daniel talked about his kids from an old marriage, the only people in the world that could compete with her for his attention.

"Don't worry honey, I'll be back in the afternoon".

"Some of my clients wants to meet me in the afternoon. The Art Deco bride, the one with the flower wall and the vintage bar carts. I'll be at her home by 3 pm, I think".

Daniel frowned at her answer.

"Wait, her house? Are you planning to leave Auden here, alone?"

"I mean...yes?" Sara didn't seem so bothered. "She lives nearly, I won’t be gone for that long. The doors will be locked, no domestic chores, he won't hurt himself and is not like he would ever try to run".

Daniel snorted. "I'm not so sure of that".

"Oh, don’t start it now. We can always find him with the tracking chip. And why would he even do it? Last night, he kneeled and tilted his head for me just to be able to use a towel. That's how he was taught to ask for something, and you’d want to see how thankful he got because I didn’t force him to go downstairs and cook stark naked, although that would be an interesting scene to watch." She grinned maliciously, but her features were sweet and harmless again within a few seconds. "He's a pet with benefits now, and I doubt he has enough braincells in that pretty little skull to even think about running away".

“Naive” Daniel spat out.

Sara raised from the sofa, visibly astonished. “What did you said?”

"That's very naive, to see the kid as brainless for not speaking his mind when this option was taken away from him, in the first place. The truth is that no one could tell what's going on in his head." The man leaned against the wall and muttered the rest to himself, slightly wishing she could hear him anyway. "From all the people, you should be the one to know better".

Sara's face was almost red, not from embarrassment but from being contradicted, like a spoiled child being denied a toy. An irony, as Sara got exactly the toy that she wanted.

"What makes you suspicious about Auden?"

"When we're asleep, he walks around the house and thinks I don't know it. Last week, I caught him awake past his bedtime, staring at the windows, watching th- no, let me finish it- watching the backyard where the cars come and go. The kid almost passed out when he saw me in the room and started his nonsense shit to beg without words". Daniel's eyes suddenly darkened. "It's usually fun to see him do it but I had no patience for that in the moment. I just put him back to bed, but caught him doing the same thing the next day. Your handler friend said he could probably still know how to read, and I have no doubt that he had been messing with my office shelves and taking my books behind our backs".

Sara sighed audibly, crossing her arms.

"So, that's it? What do you even want me to do?"

"I wish you would discipline better your pet, as he had always been more yours than mine, and maybe do your part of the deal."

"My part of the deal?" The woman nearly laughed with disbelief. "You're not expecting that I will stay home all the time, are you? I got my helpful, gorgeous boy to fill the gap that my friends and my husband left in my life and you got your sadistic vengeance at a cost way lower than you expected. That, that was the deal!"

Daniel opened his mouth to argue but his wife interrupted him, a little less emotive this time.

"I miss meeting my clients in person, ok? I miss my former life. This city, it was your idea to move to the mountains. Not mine. Do you think I was excited to move to my father's former house? I went along with it, for you. But I was clear with him and I'll be very clear with you, too. I won't be the one to compromise anymore".

Auden never speaks unless he's told to, but he hear and watches his surroundings like a skittish stray that never grow out of the fear that it's going to be kicked at any time.

The boy thought he was the first to hear the phone ringing, but was surprised to find Ma'am already in the living room, touching Sir's phone with a cold, unreadable face. Then the older man appeared too, and the two started talking.

Neither of them noticed the boy in the nearest room.

It was tempting to listen their conversation, especially when he could hear his name. Sir said he was going to the city again, and Auden wished Ma'am could make him change his mind, keep the three of them safe and cozy under the soft blankets like the night before, but she seemed to have her own plans, too.

Auden would be alone. Again.

It's not the same, he has a name and his own collar now, a black piece of leather soothingly buckled around his pale neck, and that means he's safe. He's wanted.

"Are you planning to leave Auden here, alone?"

Sir was always disappointed when Auden had to learn a new thing in the mansion, and he and Ma’am were the only ones that could instruct him. Usually some specific cuisine, or an unusual domestic duty, that he hadn't been taught in the Facility. Interrupted training, he heard at more than one point.

But Sir and Ma'am had unconsciously taught him how to read a room, too, just by some people's face or a shift of voice. He used that knowledge to know when his owners were upset or stressed. He knew when he had to be good enough to lighten their mood.

He could also tell that their conversation would soon turn into an argument but he could do nothing to stop it. He wasn’t supposed to listen, for a start.

"...And is not like he would ever try to run". Ma'am was right. Auden could never and the simple thought of it made him tremble and lower his head. He was grateful for having owners so nice. A kind Sir that pets his hair and lets him help with the woodcraft and a gentle Ma'am that pampers him and show him pictures of her beautiful flowers.

"We can always find him with the tracking chip". Does he have... a tracking chip? Auden didn't know that. Where could it possibly be?

"That's very naive, to see the kid as brainless for not speaking his mind when this option was taken away from him, in the first place. The truth is that no one could tell what's going on in his head." Sir words were harsh and hurtful for Auden. He had been made for the couple. A perfect custom pet, an enviable combination built to fulfill his owners desire.

But still, standing in an empty lounge listening to his owner's conversation, despite the throbbing headache telling him it was wrong, Auden couldn't help but wonder if Sir was right, if something had slipped between his training and his arrival making him defective. Untrustworthy. Maybe it was something that was never a part of him, in the first place.

And he wondered, silently, what he could do to make up for that.

-Tagging: @albino-whumpee @eatyourdamnpears @whumpfigure @orchidscript @cubeswhump @more-miserables @whatwasmyprevioususername @castielamigos-whump-side-blog . Ask/Comment to be added or removed from the taglist!

[Question]: Is anyone interested in Auden’s WRU Intake Papers? Thinking about dropping some hints of Auden’s backstory in it.

#whump #pet whump #box boy universe #Auden the Combined Boxie #eavesdropping #Sara Bittencourt #Daniel Cortes #can you tell i was raised watching novelas?

19 notes · View notes

xpouii · 5 years

Note

for the fanfic ask game: F, H, N, S. plus any 2 questions you want to answer?

F - Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Ok to make this fun I’ll share a scene I haven’t yet published! Dialogue is my favorite thing to write because the characters live in dialogue--in my opinion--and I love playing with them!

This is from my WIP Mythea Asylum AU. It’s a Markiplier Ego thing starring Edward Iplier and Bim Trimmer. This scene is a little fight between the two as they pretend they aren’t madly in love with one another. I love it because they’re flustered, passionate gays and then they become awkward shy babies when they realize how close they are to one another. I love shifts in character like this. I probably sound like an arrogant jerk going on like this but I just love dialogue I could go on forever.

***

“You set her up for failure!” Edward slammed his fist on his desk. “You put her next door to that boy and you knew-“

“I didn’t know!” Trimmer said. “You think I would put him in danger? You think any of this is what I intended, Edward? You’ve been here less than a season! I grew up here! Nobody knows these people like I do. Nobody cares for them as much as I do! How dare you insinuate that I would do something to harm my residents!”

Edward rolled his eyes, “Of course your residents! Just remember I’m well aware how you get funded! Bonuses for breakthroughs and patients cured. I know you’re chomping at the bit to make an example out of her!”

Trimmer swung, but it was half-hearted, and Edward ducked out of the way, but caught him when he stumbled. Trimmer fisted his hands in Edward’s white coat, resting his forehead against his shoulder as he gathered himself, “You… you bastard.”

Both of them were breathing heavily, the sounds of it choked under the buzzing silence of the room. Slowly, Edward started to laugh, and Trimmer joined him, and they were holding one another in mild hysterics, “Oh my what a passionate display of buffoonery.”

“I’m sorry,” Trimmer said. “I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“As did I,” Edward said. “I know you wouldn’t purposefully put them in danger I just… you wouldn’t believe the men I’m used to working with. I forget it isn’t a fight with you.”

Trimmer smoothed Edward’s lapels as he straightened, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, “Quite alright. We both have a lot to learn from one another. Thank you for not beating me into the ground.”

“Don’t let this physique fool you,” Edward said. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

Trimmer blushed, scratching the back of his neck, “Right, well, my glasses are expensive. So… what do we do about our lovebirds?”

***

H - How would you describe your style?

Character Study? I love to explore the human animal in my stories. I like putting characters into situations be they intimate, emotional or traumatizing. I think the most interesting part of a character is how they change under different sorts of pressure.

N - Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

Honestly I’m way too protective of my stories to want to give them away but I would adore a long multi chapter story about the origins of all of the Sanders Sides from Thomas’ birth (Ok I lied I’m currently working on that but still. If somebody beats me to it I can rest)

S - Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

*unfurls a twenty-foot long scroll* ahem.

Whump trope where the whumpee falls for the whumper out of desperation of delirium

Trope where the villain becomes an ally with the hero against an even worse villain

Trope where two characters keep accidentally misinterpreting the increasingly obvious hints that they like one another

Best friends who are like “no way we would never date” until they start dating

gay panic

Secret relationships to keep up public appearances

R - Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

Stephen King, @poem-is-dead @asreoniplier @lace-maze @coconut-cluster I hold them in equal esteem! Their writing is transcendent!

X - A character you enjoy making suffer

CHASE BRODY I love torturing the sad dad.

2 notes · View notes

cowboy-anon · 3 years

Note

To all Apple sonas - I want to adopt two of you. Who wants to come? >:)

Quick CW: Dissociation, Stockholm Syndrome

Watermelon raises their hand, and Radish hits him. "What?? You want to go with them?"

Watermelon shrugs. "Yeah, they seem cool."

Radish stares, completely shocked for a moment, and then raises his hand as well. "I better not regret this."

Cherimoya's hand is up right after theirs. They admittedly have no idea what's going on right now, but they want to be a part of it!

All Cow has to do is think of the prospect of a good hug before his hand is up, too. Behind his back, his fingers are crossed.

Tree peers behind him and makes sure his Clay isn't looking. Then, looking smaller than ever, he lets out a meek, "It would be nice..."

Pomegranate raises his hand, too, because he’s got a good feeling about you!

Star Fruit follows suit, mostly because he’s curious.

Cacao doesn’t even bother raising his hand because he’s afraid he won’t get picked anyway...

Coconut scoffs and rolls his eyes, but playing with a blade of grass, he's thinking about it. Would it really be so bad to leave Master Clay?

Apple, Banana, Orange, Cactus Pear, and Wine all keep their hands down, because they have all the love they need with their Clays. Lychee and Dragon Fruit have their Jimmys, so they’re fine, too. Fig is dissociating hard and doesn’t hear the question.

17 notes · View notes

nicwholikeswhumpstuff · 6 years

Photo

Prompt (given to me by a random number generator): Coughing Up Blood feat. Broken Rib and Fainting

Length: 3303 words

Characters: Aldric (whumpee for this round), Lucian (narrator and first caretaker), Mina (second caretaker), half a dozen zombies. Original characters by me (check my Own Canon page for context).

Aldric wasn't one to take that long to come back home. He had left an hour before sunrise, explaining himself in a note that he had a secret mission and could take a while to come back. The sun had already set and he hadn't come back yet. "Lucian," Mina said, a backpack in her hand, "I need you to go look for Aldric. I'm worried about him." "If you're so worried, why don't you come with me?" "You and I know that you're better at avoiding hordes at night, and Aldric is too heavy for me to carry by myself." Mina had a knowing smile. "Besides, I know you prefer things that are more filling than coconut water and eggs for every meal. You could eat something on the way." Mina probably didn't know how well she knew me. "Do you know where he might be?" I asked. She took out her phone, opened a tracker map, and showed me the location. "The last information regarding his location came a few hours ago. He's about two kilometers from here, shouldn't take too long for you to get there. I'll send you the location. This way, you'll have it in your map." A few seconds later, my phone buzzed with the new information. She walked me to the metal mesh gate and handed me the backpack. "I put some weapons in there." "Shouldn't I have a medical kit too?" "...Lucian, you always act uncomfortable around blood, and you didn't have first aid training. There are bandages and sterile gauze in that pack, but I hope you won't need them." "Me too. Wish me luck."

I set off to the streets. Deserted, as expected for a late Friday in a residential neighborhood during a zombie apocalypse. I had to get to Aldric, but I wouldn't be of any help if my strength ended up corroded by hunger. I took a detour to grab a bite, and went back to my mission with the comforting warmth of a decent meal settling on my stomach. I ran through those deserted streets and reached an abandoned building site. It was probably meant to be one of these small apartment buildings like those found downtown, but it lacked all semblance of comfort or hospitality. It was all darkness, bare bricks and rusted rebar, a humid and ferrous smell lingering in the air. And... another smell, strong enough that I could almost taste it. Rich and ferrous, too, but warm. Blood. "Aldric?" I called. A metallic noise, like if he banged a hand on his armor, rang in response. "Keep doing that, I'm almost there!" I found him far from the entrance, sitting against a wall. I turned on the flashlight on the phone, and pointed at the ceiling. A diffuse light surrounded us. His right hand had a firm grip on that monstrosity of a sword he usually carried, but his left hand pressed against his flank. His usually spotless armor was dented and stained with blood where he was pressing his hand, and his face was contorted in a grimace. "Aldric!" I ran to him and knelt by his side. "Lucian?" His voice was awfully raspy, his breathing uncomfortably loud. "Oh, you have no idea... how glad I am to see you," he said, forcing himself to smile. I could see his teeth were stained red, and he had blood on his breath too. I had to avert my eyes for a long moment. "I almost thought you were a zombie... Sorry about this. I know you don't like... seeing blood." I put the phone on the ground. An unnatural pallor stole the color from his lips, from his face. But the worst part was the smell. I turned my face the other way, and caught myself chewing on my lip to distract myself. "No matter," I said after a long while. "What happened? It's yours, isn't it?" "I was caught by surprise and..." He interrupted himself with a pitiful coughing fit. When he finished, I noticed bright red spatters on his hand, on his lips. "...You're coughing blood." "It's nothing," he protested, and coughed again. More red spatters. Some probably landed on me. "Aldric, we can't stay here. This place isn't defensible, and the smell of blood might attract zombies. Why didn't you call for help?" He held up his phone. "Dead battery," he said, and coughed again. "Let me check mine." I picked up the phone and pressed a button. The percentage went to zero, and the light in the screen died with a last vibration. "Dead, too. We can't call for help, and we need to get out of here." He looked at me for a long moment, as if he were considering his options. "I don't know if I can walk without fainting. I'm a bit short on breath," he admitted, "and I might be too heavy for you." "Don't worry." He should thank his lucky stars that I had stopped along the way to keep myself fed. "I'll have trouble running with you on my back, obviously, but I think I can get us to a safe place." He said nothing for a long moment. "Take me to Mina, she'll know what to do," he said, finally. "Help me up." I put the phone away and put the backpack in front of my body. Aldric stuck his sword on the ground, using it like a cane to pull himself up. I wrapped my arm around his torso to steady his posture and keep him upright. "There. Lean on me if you can't walk. And put that sword away," I said. That monstrosity of a blade was almost longer than my height. "...I'm not going to fight with it," he said. "I can lean on it." His body shook with another weak coughing fit. More red spatters. "How do you feel?" I asked. "Fine... don't worry."

He was far from being fine, but he was too proud to admit it in front of me. His steps started out stubborn, as if any display of weakness in front of me would be unforgivable - but I could tell the blood loss was wearing him down, since most of his weight was on me when we returned to the streets and he was failing miserably at disguising the noise of his breathing. I could swear there was some gurgling between those shallow gasps. "Aldric?" "...Hm?" "We're about two kilometers away from home. Are you sure you can keep on walking?" He gave me a shaky nod. "If I faint and there's a horde..." "I'll carry you home, don't worry." That seemed to amuse him, and he smiled. "Thanks." "You're welcome. Now stop talking. You need to save your strength, and the less distracted I am, the better." His breath smelled of blood and it was distracting me - not that I'd ever tell him. "I need to focus to check for zombies, remember?" He nodded. Lucky him, I couldn't see, hear or smell any zombies around. ...Then again, Aldric's blood had an overwhelming smell, and I was finding it hard to focus. I almost felt light-headed, and it disgusted me. He needed my help. I shouldn't be that affected by the sight and smell of his blood, but I was. I hated the weakness of my nature, but I had to steel myself. He needed help. I was the only one who could help him. We kept walking. A few hundreds of meters later, he sheathed his sword. It seemed that the effort of leaning on it was taking a major toll on his energy, because his breathing had become much noisier than before. He looked even paler under the streetlights, but luckily we were close to a small square. "Aldric, we're near a bench. Do you want to sit and rest for a moment?" He gave me a shaky nod, and I helped him down. He coughed again, and once again red spatter colored his lips and the back of his hands. His breathing was awfully labored. "How far are we?" he rasped. Not having a functional phone, I had to guess. "Little more than one and a half kilometer away, I think. How do you feel?" "Less than fine." He forced himself to smile despite the grimace. "Help me out of my armor." I shook my head. "It's better if I don't. We're not in a safe place yet, and it's better if you're not caught unprotected while you're outside." He glared at me for a moment. "I think broke a rib," he said. "Might have hurt my lung." "I could have taken you to a hospital instead of trying to walk us back home," I said, more worried than angry. "You should have told me. The hospital is the other way around." He clenched his jaw and averted his gaze. "Mina knows what to do." "She's not a doctor!" I protested. "She knows what to do," he insisted, coughing again. I didn't want to press that further. He'd get argumentative and exert himself even more. "All right, then. I'll take you home. But, if she can't treat you at home, you're going to the hospital." I pointed a finger at his handsome, if pale, face. "And no arguing your way out of this." He snickered. "Alright, mom." I rolled my eyes. "Don't joke too much. You'll worsen your injury if you start laughing." That seemed to amuse Aldric. "...I'm a little better now," he said. "Help me up." He extended me his free hand, and I pulled him to his feet again. He leaned on me once more, and we resumed walking. It seemed like Aldric was at the end of his strength, as his steps faltered and more and more of his weight was on my shoulders. He was mostly silent, save for the noise of his shallow breaths, uncomfortable groans and the occasional shaking of a coughing fit. "Just another kilometer, and we'll be home," I said, trying to encourage him to walk just a little more. He looked at me and shook his head, a resigned misery stamped on his usually icy and sharp eyes. "...I'm sorry," he muttered. His legs failed to hold his weight, and Aldric collapsed on my shoulders, nearly bringing me to the ground with him. Curses. He was too heavy. The blood on his lips stained the collar of my shirt, and the shallow huffs of his warm breath tickled the back of my neck, but I couldn't let that distract me. A putrid smell hit me from behind. Zombies. Not many, only half a dozen, and not too close, as they were by the end of the street, but enough to be cause for concern, specially since they had been following us by the smell of Aldric's blood. I couldn't leave him and try to distract the zombies, or they'd head straight for him. Only a kilometer to go. And these zombies were slow, they couldn't run. I didn't need to run home, I just needed a head start for the zombies not to be able to catch us. I settled Aldric's arms around my neck and under the straps of my backpack. "This might get rough," I whispered to him. I tried to sprint, but my usual speed didn't account for about a hundred kilos in added weight. My first step resulted in Aldric's weight nearly tossing me to the ground. Curses. Running would not be an option. I'd have to keep walking, and, should the zombies attack, I'd have to attack them with whatever weapons Mina had put in my backpack. I opened the backpack, took out the weapons, and closed it. A hatchet and a short metal bludgeon, one for each hand. Curses, and thrice damned be those zombies. I couldn't harm them with those weapons without making a mess. I kept walking, but deep, cold dread coiled in my stomach. Not for Aldric - he was young and strong, generally healthy, and even though he had fainted and was covering the neck of my shirt with the blood on his lips, his breathing, however weak and shallow and noisy, was steady. He wouldn't die of a bloodied cough. Hopefully. I looked behind. The zombies were getting closer. Only a few moments more, and they'd be upon me. Curses. My hands clenched around my weapons, but I had to keep walking. The horde's stench grew strong enough to cover the smell of Aldric's blood. A pair of dead hands tried to grab Aldric, but, fortunately, he was firmly strapped to me, and those disgusting rotten hands slipped off his armor. I let the zombie get closer, and smacked its head with the metal rod. Another tried to grab me, and I struck with the hatchet. Rotten blood splashed on me, but I had no time to have a disgusted reaction. Two down. Four yet to go. Another lunged at me, and I tackled. Aldric's added weight on my back knocked the zombie down, and a well-placed strike with the hatchet made sure it'd remain down. More rotten blood. Three more. Two thin zombies came at me. I didn't need much to strike them in the middle of their foreheads, knocking them down. The last zombie didn't have the good sense to avoid approaching, and I mauled its head with two weapons at once. Finally. I'd have a disgusted reaction later, but now I had to take Aldric home safely. With a weapon in each hand. And caked in fresh and rotten blood. Yuck. I avoided the fallen zombies, and resumed walking home. A good distance after, Aldric stirred, groaning. "Lucian," he rasped, "put me down, I can walk..." I glanced his way. His breath still smelled like fresh blood, still gurgled, and he was grimacing. "Sorry, but it's faster if I carry you. The sooner we get home, the better." He didn't seem to notice the amount of blood on my clothes, or the weapons in my hands. He seemed too tired to argue, and it would be better for everyone involved if I just let him rest. Fortunately, after that disgusting incident, nothing else jumped at us, and we soon reached the metal mesh gates that would welcome us home.

"Aldric needs help," I said, before Mina's expression gave place to a string of expletives, "and I need to get out of these clothes and toss these things somewhere to be disinfected. I'm... covered in blood." Mina helped us inside, and we helped Aldric to the floor. I flung aside the weapons and dashed upstairs - I had to get myself in clean clothes, and possibly ask Mina how to remove those disgusting stains from my clothes later. I didn't pay attention to the noise downstairs. I shuddered in disgust whenever I touched my bloodied clothes, and I'd have vomited should my stomach be still full. I tossed those clothes in the tank, and wiped myself clean with a wet towel. Yuck. I threw on some clean clothes and ran back downstairs. The metal mesh gate was locked. Mina had undone Aldric's armor and had him laying on the ground in a specific position, but didn't bring him into the living room. His shirt, plate armor and chainmail were forgotten in a corner, along with that monstrosity of a sword he usually carried. She was kneeling by his side. "What happened?" Mina asked. There was a note of panicked worry in her voice, even if she tried not to show it. "I got hurt," Aldric rasped, coughing again. His muscular torso, marred only by that horrid bruise on his ribcage, moved in weak spasms. More red spatters. "And I had Lucian... bring me here." She turned to face me. "Why didn't you call for help?" "Dead phones, both of us." "And you didn't take him to a hospital because...?" "I didn't know he had a broken rib. He only told me when we were a few hundred meters away from home, and he insisted on being brought here," I explained. Mina gently pressed the area around his bruise. Aldric tensed at that touch. When she let go, he coughed again. His breathing still made that disturbing wet noise and blood kept coming out of his mouth. "You idiot," Mina glared at him. "Why did you insist to be brought home? You need a hospital!" He averted his gaze, covering his mouth before another pitiful coughing fit. "I'm fine." His hand came off stained red, and I averted my eyes for a moment. Mina sighed, pulling her phone from a pocket. She swiped away a notification and started dialing a number. "You're not. Coughing blood is never 'fine.'" She headed inside, but paused and squeezed my shoulder. "Keep him company while I go get his things and call an ambulance, okay?" I nodded, and sat by Aldric's side. Even if marred by that horrible bruise, he still had a gorgeous, strong body. "...Like what you see?" he asked me with a pale imitation of his usual smile. His breathing was too noisy, too labored, and I couldn't avoid thinking about all the blood that he hadn't bothered cleaning since he had started coughing. And he was still grimacing when he thought I wasn't paying attention. I ignored his provocation. "How did you even get hurt like that if you were wearing armor?" Aldric averted his eyes, and coughed again. "...I'll tell you later... When I recover." "I'll hold you up to that." He said nothing for a moment. "...I'm scared." "It's scary to be coughing blood like that, but try not to worry. You're young and strong. You'll get better, I promise." He didn't seem to believe me. Mina returned with a packed backpack and a napkin. "They'll be here in a few minutes," she said, kneeling by his side to clean the blood off his face. "I'll go with you to the hospital. You'll need someone to take note of what the doctors say." "...Thanks." He coughed again, and more blood dribbled out of his mouth.

The ambulance didn't take too long to arrive, all loud wailing and bright lights. Two paramedics stepped out with a stretcher, lifted Aldric into it, and took him to their vehicle. Mina said something about being his roommate and went with them, leaving me alone to take care of the house. I left my phone charging and took a shower to remove the rotten blood that still clung to my skin. The phone rang as I had just finished getting dressed again. I unplugged it and took a look. It was Mina. "Hello?" "He's not in immediate danger," she said. "Doctors say he has a broken rib and a punctured lung." "Did he tell you how it happened?" "He didn't." "...And, punctured lung. That sounds bad. Is it why he was coughing blood?" "Yeah. Good news is, he'll recover. Bad news, he'll have to stay here for a while. I'll keep him company. I'll get home tomorrow to get more things, but I'll stay the night here." Curses. "...Do you want me to leave?" I asked. She paused. "No. You stay there. Someone has to guard the house, and your own home is surrounded by hordes." "I could stay with friends?" "You already are staying with friends, dummy. Go to bed, and get some rest. Oh. And there's a huge bottle of hydrogen peroxide with the cleaning supplies near the tank." "Hydrogen peroxide...?" "Water with an extra oxygen," she explained. "It's good for blood stains. I saw your face when you arrived home. Good night, Lucian." "Good night, Mina."

I'd tend to my clothes later - they were thoroughly soaked in water, so the stains could wait a little more. At that moment, I'd heed her advice, and rest.

#badthingshappenbingo #Nic's writing #Lucian Thorne #Mina Montes #Aldric Stone #coughing up blood #broken rib

2 notes · View notes