#I NEED TO STOP GOING ON PET FINDER

[chryblossomjjk]

screaming shitting crying look who is up for adoption near me

[baldurs-gape]

Oh gosh, this is the shores nonnie from earlier and I am so grateful for your response! I didn’t have the best night so I am just so happy you are so kind😭❤️

My dear Shores Nonnie, I am so sorry to hear you've not had the best night. While I may simply be a stranger over the internet, please know that my DMs are always open if you need a willing ear to talk to. I can't promise to have any magical solutions but I make up for that in ample pet pictures (cats, dogs and various snakes are currently on offer), memes and stories of being a smidge of a disaster of a human being should you ever need a distraction.

Given that you've had a rought night, I've not had a great day myself, I can do but one thing. We give Astarion a not so great time, how about it?

(CW: this turned out a little more grim than intended. Glossed over torture, rape and just general Astarion having a bad time at the hands of Godey and other spawn before the others show up.)

One of Many

When Astarion was snatched by his so called siblings in the night, the rest of the party was up in arms. That was their vampire spawn now and they were going to retrieve him, thank you very much. Finders keepers and all that. Brave words which were so easy to speak yet acting on them was harder. Going during the night didn't seem the best of ideas so they waited until morning when light would offer them protection should they need to run, but if they did then they'd make sure they had Astarion in tow.

Getting into the stronghold was surprisingly easy. Finding Cazador was too. Between Karlach, Gale, Halsin and Jaheira they made a damn good attempt at ending his tyranny. The only problem was when the despicable worm turned and fled, they couldn't find him. Searching the palace led them from room to room. It was Jaheira who spotted the concealed door. Walking through it was about was good as walking into a nightmare. The whole room had Silence cast on it which explained why nobody could hear anything outside. But inside that bubble was filled with screams and begging in an all too familiar voice.

A skeleton was looming over the table where Astarion was pinned. No, he was nailed down while three other spawn stood around, watching impassively. As the skeleton moved, it revealed pools of blood on the floor along with pale lumps that were best not looked at too closely because they looked like flesh.

"Please. Please. I'm sorry." Astarion's voice was breaking, hoarse, he'd been crying and begging for a while. "Not again. I'll be good. I can be good."

His words turned into a scream that died down into a whimper and wet, bubbling gasps. Karlach charged.

Their second fight was short and brutal, much more satisfying than against Cazador. The spawn and the skeleton fell under their blades and magic with speed until it was just the five of them left in the cold, blood stained room. Approaching the table, Halsin was already preparing a healing spell while Gale rifled through his scrolls in case he had something he could help with. Meanwhile, Karlach tried to be as gentle as possible pulling the nails out of pale flesh. She and and Jaheira shared a glance over the table as Astarion lay motionless, eyes squeezed shut and teeth dug into bloodied lips to stay quiet.

"We've got you, Fangs," Karlach murmured softly and stroked through his hair. The hiss of sympathy was impossible to stop as she saw Astarion's ears, or rather, what had been left of them. She gagged and a hand touched the tips of her own as the slices of flesh under the table made sense. They hadn't simply been hacked off but rather taken sliver by agonising sliver.

As Halsin poured his healing magic into Astarion, Gale tipped a potion bottle against lips which were slow to respond. However, within three minutes Astarion was looking much like his old self as he swung himself upright and hopped off the table.

"Well?" He asked as he walked to the table with a pile of bloodied and shredded clothes. "Is he dead?"

"The coward ran," Jaheira said.

Astarion's eyes snapped up at them full of rage even as he shimmied into ripped trousers, uncaring of the blood and other fluids that still coated his inner thighs.

"So why the fuck are you here? What use are you? You should have gone after him and killed him!"

Walking closer, Gale tried to reach out but got violently shrugged off with a loud "Don't touch me!" Astarion's rage didn't end there though. "Useless, that's what you are. Wasting your time playing heroes while the monster is still at large. And you dare call yourselves my friends and lovers. Pathetic."

Hearing him fume rather than be grateful for the rescue was actually hurtful and infuriating. Gale stepped back, arms crossed over his chest and scowling.

"So we shouldn't have bothered coming to save you."

A large hand squeezed his shoulder and Halsin looked between his two partners.

"Perhaps we could all go back to camp and take a rest. I think we need it."

All through the trip, Astarion didn't say anything, strode out front of the group as he walked to the dock they'd set up camp in. Without word he marched into his tent and let the flap close behind him. It was probably less dramatic than he'd wanted.

Nobody saw him for the rest of the evening. Halsin cast wishful glances at the tent as he wrapped an arm around Gale but they left Astarion to his own devices. Whatever he was working through, he needed the space. One by one, the whole camp retired, Jaheira and Karlach were the last to go, staying up late as Karlach sought comfort from her hero after seeing her friend so mutilated.

Quiet settled around camp but Gale couldn't sleep. Even as he was snugly enveloped in Halsin's arms, he missed the chill from his other side where Astarion usually pressed in. Sleep continued to elude him until he couldn't keep still. Determined to go to Astarion's tent, he slipped out from Halsin's embrace and stood with a groan. Stepping out of the tent, he spotted a lone figure, sitting at the edge of the dock. Of course it was Astarion.

Sneaking had never been Gale's forte and he wasn't looking to take Astarion off guard. Instead, he padded softly towards him and stood, a little awkward until Astarion craned his neck to look up at him.

"Yes?" How he managed to sound bored was rather impressive.

"Did you really mean it?"

Rather than reply, Astarion went back to staring out at the sea. Taking his silence as confirmation, Gale turned to leave which was the exact moment he spoke up.

"Do you know how many times I've seen these stars?"

Halting, Gale looked over his shoulder. He wasn't quite sure what the crux of the conversation was and, truth be told, didn't know whether he could bring himself to care in that moment. It didn't seem to bother Astarion.

"Thousands of times. And they never change. It's why he liked calling me Star, to remind me that nothing about me will change either." There was no question about who the 'he' in the situation was. "He could do anything he wanted to me. But the end was always the same. I lived. I healed. I screamed again the next night. It never changed."

Retracing his steps, Gale stood next to Astarion and wondered whether he was welcome to sit. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to be there, to comfort Astarion if he was allowed to.

Eyes firmly on the water, Astarion continued, "It was the same thing all over again. Except rather than Godey shoving a fetid rat at me, it was you pouring potion down my throat. It burend just the same. I'm whole again. Only for it all to happen again. If not at his hands then in a fight or a random accident." Eyes finally turned to look up at Gale. "I'm so tired. I don't want to heal anymore. Don't want to get up again just to be broken by others."

Invitation be damned, Gale crouched down to pull Astarion against him in a tight hug. He could just about hear his words, muffled as they were in his sleep shirt.

"People look at me and think I'm okay. That I'm unbroken. I'm a blank canvas for them to etch their pain into with their blunt knives. Break pieces off because they'll grow back with a potion and a murmur of a spell. Today was just one day of many. It wasn't even the worst yet Karlach looks at me like her world's been crushed. Even though I'm the one who felt every broken bone and ripped flesh."

Gale rubbed his hand over Astarion's back and wished he could say something, anything to make it better. But there was nothing. They gave him the potions, healed him because they wanted him back. The few times Gale had needed help picking himself up off the floor after a fight, he'd been grateful for it. Listening to Astarion though, he wondered just how much of a betrayal it was, to have healed his body but there was nothing they could do for the mind and the memories that plagued it. Pulling him closer, holding him tighter, Gale was left with so many wishes yet not even a whisper of suggestion for a solution.

[fingertipsmp3]

Fuck it I’m catatonically bored and I can’t justify starting to make dinner at fucking 3:52PM so I’m going to rate every Stephen King book I’ve read out of 5 stars. If the readmore doesn’t work I can only apologise

Carrie: genuinely iconic although I do think the concept is better than the execution. 3.5

‘Salem’s Lot: immaculate, literally got me into horror, I will always have a soft spot for it. 5

The Shining: iconic. Better than the movie. Argue with the wall. 5

The Stand: really really ridiculously long but I swear to you EVERY PAGE is necessary. 5, would give higher if I could

The Dead Zone: I read this when I was like 19 and I can’t remember much other than that I liked it but it made me sad. 4, marked down because of the scene with the dog

Firestarter: looooved this. 5

Pet Sematary: the first time I read this (when I was 17) it scared me so much it kept me up all night and the second time I read it (when I was 27) it gave me night terrors. 4, marked down because it is lowkey stupid I have to admit

Cycle of the Werewolf: I’m sorry but it is kind of boring. Great illustrations though. 2

It: THE scariest book I have read, haunts me in my dreams, put me through every emotion known to humankind. Sad and gross. 5

Misery: damn near a perfect thriller novel tbh. 4.5

Dolores Claiborne: I remember liking the stream of consciousness style but also thinking “Jesus Christ can we get to the point please”. 3

Insomnia: the first third of this book is fucking wonderful. The second two thirds are a hot mess and should’ve been edited significantly more. 3

The Green Mile: the story is so so good I feel like it came to SK through divine wisdom or something but I am SO sorry, I prefer the movie. I just think it made the dialogue so much more compelling and the changes made were an improvement. Still, 5

11/22/63: one of my favourite pieces of time travel media ever, I think about this book constantly. 5 (6 if I could)

Doctor Sleep: unpopular opinion but I genuinely like it I’m fucking sorry. Like it’s definitely not good but if you don’t look at it as a Shining sequel and you’re entertained by villains with stupid names it’s fun. 3.5

Mr Mercedes: fun and tense, although why SK had to write Jerome Like That I will never understand. 3.5

Finders Keepers: honestly I found this to be just okay. 2.5

End of Watch: a pretty good end to the trilogy tbh although I nearly cried at the epilogue for my own reasons. 4

Sleeping Beauties: another unpopular opinion but I liked parts of this, but I wish SK would learn how to write women… honestly I just wish this book had been written by a woman or someone who understands women. 2.5

The Outsider: if this had been edited significantly fucking better to keep SK from yapping on and on it would’ve been an absolutely brilliant supernatural thriller, but it is in fact 200 pages longer than it needs to be. 2

The Institute: SK should stop writing about women and instead write about kids. 4

Fairy Tale: maybe this was good or maybe I am just a sucker for ‘boy and his dog’ type stories. 4.5

Different Seasons: Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption & The Body are easy 5 stars, Apt Pupil is like a 3.5 because the constant gratuitous violence is just not for me, The Breathing Method was boring and a 2 at best

Four Past Midnight: honestly I liked all of these novellas. The Langoliers was my favourite and I was kind of sad to find out that’s not a popular opinion. 4 overall

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: stupidly good. Like it’s hard to list my favourite stories because there are too many of them. The Ten O’Clock People, The House on Maple Street and Popsy would have to be my top 3. 5 overall

Full Dark, No Stars: messy but good. 1922 is my favourite overall. 4

The Bazaar of Bad Dreams: think I gave this 4 stars on storygraph but honestly it probably deserves more like 3. Top 3 were Ur, Obits & Bad Little Kid but I also have a soft spot for Drunken Fireworks

If It Bleeds: ughhhhhh I’m sorry but I was epically bored reading most of this. The Life of Chuck was good once it came together and Mr Harrigan’s Phone had a decent payoff, but the title novella had basically the same problems and plot as The Outsider, and Rat just felt pointless to me. 2

[jlilycorbie]

I have come into guardianship of a tiny abandoned kitten. She lost all her litter mates, briefly had her mother's care, but then she went missing in a hoarded room. Her mother disappeared never to return, and after being presumed dead for a day and a half, a dog found her and returned her to her original finder. Still alive, still without her eyes open.

Here she is just before her disappearance.

She made it through that first difficult week and opened her eyes.

Literally hours after I took that picture with her, one of her eyes sealed shut from infection.

This ridiculous baby would not be deterred. She wants to go on adventures so badly. She managed to travel alone through a hoarded room for a day and a half while she was still deaf and blind. A little infection wasn't going to stop her.

A few days later, she woke up, opened both eyes, and decided to be a menace.

On Monday, I picked her up and took her to the vet. There isn't much you can do with such a tiny kitten. The vet tech checked with the vet about testing for parasites. They were outside of the exam room, but I heard a very tired vet respond, "I'm not going to violate a kitten."

She gave me ointment for her eyes and assured me it should be safe to have her around my adult cat at this point, so she came home with me to find out if Laszlo would let me keep her.

Laszlo is not impressed with this interloper, and he hasn't been shy about vocalizing his displeasure.

However, he hasn't been directly aggressive. He lets me talk him down, soothe him, pet him, and give him treats. He's a very good boy, and I think we'll be able to make this work.

I was never concerned about how Rhapsody would feel about all this. She loves kitties, though she isn't quite sure what to do with one so much smaller than her.

She's not getting run of the house yet, not until Laszlo adjusts and accepts, but since she wants to roam so badly, I let her have supervised time on the open futon, which is more or less neutral ground.

She found a cave bed I purchased years ago for other animals, and none of them ever cared for it. It's her safe space now.

Since it looks like I'm keeping her, I need to decide on a name. The top contenders are Astrid and Sonata.

She's finally becoming less baby and more herself, and so far she's adventurous and fearless. She loves food and isn't shy about demanding it. She's got a big purr, and she loves pets and cuddles, but doesn't much care for laps.

I love her.

[egcdeath]

finders keepers

summary: did captain america just steal your cat?

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, strangers to lovers

author’s note: it’s been way too long since i wrote some pure, self indulgent fluff. this has been quite the refreshing experience for me but i think it’s back to our regularly scheduled program after this ;)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Miso had an air of arrogance that you admired. She took the world by its kitty balls, doing whatever she pleased whenever she pleased. Your cat left the apartment for sometimes days at a time, and frequently led male cats to your door. To you, your cat was more like a roommate than a pet, hogging up most of your bed, standing on the counter while you attempted to make food for yourself, and leaving most areas dirtier than she originally found it. 

Okay, maybe you were personifying your cat a little too much. But after moving out to D.C., you were unspeakably lonely. Most days, it felt like Miso was all you had, and that you were all Miso had (save for her army of cat boyfriends). 

This made things all the more concerning for you when you’d realized that you hadn’t seen your cat companion in five days. Five whole days without the comforting vibration of her purr, her ungodly hours of wakeup calls demanding to be played with, or pet. The cherry on top was that the cat food outside your door appeared to be completely untouched.

In your frenzied realization of your missing cat, your mind raced with a thousand different terrible situations your dear Miso could’ve found herself in. You frantically clicked through pictures of her on an online album and attempted to find a photo that would capture her white fur with large blobs of auburn, and her vibrant blue eyes to put on your ‘MISSING’ sign. The longer you clicked, the more that you began to worry that she had been caught and kidnapped by some terrible person with bad intentions. 

You finally threw together the poster, sending it to your phone so that you could print it off at the OfficeMax down the street. Luckily for you, you didn’t make it that far, as the moment you began to lock the closed door of your apartment, you saw the unmistakable figure of your cat. 

In the arms of your neighbor.

Now, you’d never met Steve. He was an Avenger, Captain America to be exact, and you were just… you. You’d convinced yourself that attempting to introduce yourself to him would ultimately end in failure, and an embarrassing one at that. Maybe he’d scoff and walk away, or call Tony Stark in front of you and tell him about the crazy woman he just encountered. 

But none of that mattered. Captain America was stealing your fucking cat. 

“Excuse me, sir?” You asked, stepping away from your door and approaching the Greek God of a man to the right of you. 

“Oh, hey! We must be n-“

“You have my cat,” you said bluntly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve seemed to do a double take

“My cat, y’know, the feline in your arms.”

“Well, maybe we just have similar looking cats. This is Arabella.”

You nearly scoffed at this, shaking your head. First, Captain America kidnapped your cat, and now he’s trying to convince you that it’s not your cat? Yeah, you’d know Miso from a mile away. And what kind of name is Arabella?

“Arabella is a great name for her,” Steve retorted, pulling the cat closer to his chest. Shit, did you say that out loud?

“Well I think it’s time for Miso to come back home,” the cat’s ears perked at this, and she glanced over at you. The sight of you made her wiggle and hop out of Steve’s tight embrace, landing on her feet and trotting over to you. The damn cat rubbed her face against your calf and purred as if she hadn’t been cheating on you for long enough to have gained a new name.

You squatted down and rubbed the back of your hand against her cheek, and shook your head at your pet, “you’re getting put on probation, young lady.” 

She didn’t seem to mind, pacing back and forth around you. You glanced up and saw Steve with a rather neutral expression on his face, as if he was masking whatever it was that he was feeling.

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Uh, maybe I’ll see you both around sometime,” disappointment coated his every word before he opened up his apartment door and promptly closed it behind him. 

You were surprised at how quickly he conceded, but you weren’t particularly mad about it either. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you never got your Miso back.

——

A whole day later, you’d been in your apartment typing up an email when a soft rapping at your door got your attention.

“Just a second!” you called, hopping up and hurrying to the door. When you opened it, Steve was standing in front of you, waiting with an oversized box in his hands.

“These are some of Ar- Miso?�� he trailed off, waiting for you to confirm the name, and you gave him a tiny nod. “These are some of Miso’s toys. I just figured if she’s not staying at my place anymore…”

As if on cue, Miso strolled up to the door, and stretched her arms up on Steve’s leg, begging to be picked up. The man glanced at you for approval, and you gave a dismissive shrug before he set down the box, and held up the cat.

Steve frowned as he held her, and frankly, it pulled on your heart strings. You had to remind yourself that this man had been holding your cat captive for at least a week, and at most… who knows. 

She clearly had a connection with him, and that was what intrigued you most. Miso was a very picky cat, and it was only occasionally that she found someone that she genuinely liked, let alone wanted to be picked up by. If you continued to watch the display of affection in front of you, you might just cave.

“Uh, I left something in the oven for a little too long, so I should probably go get that. Thanks for stopping by.”

Steve nodded, understanding that it was time for him to exit.

——

You should’ve seen this coming the minute Miso was back in your home. You stepped out of the shower one morning to find your front door slightly ajar, and your animal nowhere to be found. 

You huffed, frustrated that just three days after you told yourself that your cat was completely indoor from that point on, she had escaped. She could literally be anywhere at this point.

In a whirlwind, you threw on a sweatshirt and pants, ready to go print out the missing posters that you had designed just a few days ago. As you slipped on sneakers, you realized something very crucial. She might just be at Steve’s place.

You groaned aloud, rubbing your temple as you thought of how difficult your cat was being. You were becoming a bit nervous to approach Steve, you hadn’t gotten off to the greatest start, and if your cat wasn’t there, things might just be awkward.

Regardless, you knew you needed to try, so you exited your own home, and knocked on the door of Steve’s.

A few moments later, he appeared with your cat in tow. 

“Hey!” he paused and trailed off, “I never got your name before.”

“That’s what you care about right now?” you glanced down at your animal. “It’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Hi, Y/N. Miso and I were just enjoying breakfast, if you’d like to join us?”

Was Steve shooting his shot? 

“I appreciate your offer, but I think I’m alright. I have to get back to work, and my cat is still in your custody,” your eyes flickered down to the animal who stood proudly by his side. 

“Maybe some other time,” he shrugged. “You work from home?”

You nodded, then squatted down to get eye level with your cat. 

“I’m jealous,” he chuckled. “Alright, I’ll stop bothering you now. Bye Miso, see you around, Y/N.”

You picked up your cat, who briefly dug her nails into the ground in resistance before submitting to her capture. As you brought her back home, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the right choice.

——

Ever since you’d discovered Miso, or Arabella’s secret life, it’s like you couldn’t stop noticing her connection to Steve. 

Some days, she’d be gone until the dead of night, when she’d meow and paw at your front door until you woke up. Other times she’d be laying in bed with you, and she smelled distinctly of your neighbor. Your cat had single handedly turned a stranger into a thoroughly integrated part of your life.

It was as if Miso was now your child, and Steve your ex-husband in a Cold War style custody battle, where Miso seemed to prefer her father. It was slightly disheartening. At the very least, you knew she was in good hands. 

You held a throw pillow to your chest while you watched a rerun of a sitcom on your television, procrastinating in your work for as long as you possibly could. The sound of a knock on your door pulled you from your trance, and as you peeked through the peephole of your door, you saw a slightly distorted Steve.

Opening up the door, you gave him just the faintest hint of a smile, “what’s up, neighbor? Need me to grab you some treats for Arabella, or something?”

“Kinda the opposite,” he gestured with his head down to the cat squirming in his hands. “I’m gonna be gone on a mission for the next week or so. I just wanted to let you know that if Miso gets out, she’s not with me.” 

Steve set her down on your carpet, and she happily collapsed at your feet, “keep her safe for me, alright?” 

——

You took a deep breath as you approached his door, hoping he hadn’t left just yet. You fiddled with the sticky note containing your number, and polaroid photo of your cat in your hand, considering turning around and scrapping the idea all together. 

It was silly to think that an Avenger would ever bother reaching out to you. You were probably overstepping anyway. Steve would think you were a freak and take full custody of your beloved Miso once and for all. 

Going against your better judgment, you set down the polaroid-note combo and quickly slid it under Steve’s door. Whatever happened happened.

The next morning, you were pleased to receive a notification from an unknown number. 

Send Miso pics?

You were more than happy to oblige. 

——

Over the course of Steve’s week-long mission, you’d sent several pictures and videos of your cat doing random things. Trying to get on the table, sleeping on top of your dryer, and even playing with one of the toys Steve provided.

Surprisingly, Steve wasn’t as dry of a texter as you thought he’d be. He was eating up all of the Miso content, and would occasionally even ask for you to send more photos. 

The final night of his mission, you were surprised when you received a FaceTime request, at first writing it off as a technical error (he was from a different time period, after all), but the follow up call demonstrated his intentions.

You cautiously picked up, the knot in your stomach growing as you did so, “hello?”

“Hi!” Steve greeted optimistically, the phone just a bit too close to his face. “Any Miso sightings?”

“Yeah, she’s actually sleeping on my foot right now,” you chuckled, flipping the camera so you could show her off in your dim, lamp-lit bedroom. 

“So cute,” he hummed, “how have you been?”

“Me?” you laughed quietly, “I’m not the one on a top secret mission in god-knows-where. But I’ve been fine. How are you?”

“Honestly? I’m pretty tired. Kinda can’t wait to get home and see you and Miso,” he said in a quieter voice. 

Your brain stalled out for a second. Steve was excited to see you? You hoped that you were reading this the right way, as you were more than willing to go with whatever it was that Steve was putting down.

“We’ll be expecting an immediate visit from you, then. I’ll let Miso know that she needs to start kneading a bread loaf for you as soon as possible. Any idea of what time you’re getting into D.C.?” 

“Probably late morning, but it really depends on when Natasha gets up.”

You had a moment where you realized that you were talking to a real life superhero, and he had just referenced his friend… who was also a superhero. You paused for a second. 

“Y/N? Hey, you still here?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I just zoned out for a sec. Well, you better get here safe or else someone is going to be very annoyed with you.”

Steve laughed softly across the line, and you adjusted yourself in bed, yawning softly.

“I’m sorry, I forgot how late it is over there,” Steve apologized.

“Don’t worry, I was up anyway. One of Miso’s boyfriends is pretty upset that he can’t come in here and spend the night with her.”

“Which one?”

“I think that grey one. I don’t really know what his voice sounds like, but she’s been leading him on lately,” you responded, eliciting a laugh from both you and Steve. 

“Try to get some sleep, okay? I don’t need you snoozing while I come to visit our girl.”

“You are something else, Steve Rogers,” you said fondly, adjusting your phone one last time as you hugged a pillow. “I’ll get to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You hung up, and cuddled into your pillow with a sigh. Calling your dreams that night sweet was an understatement. 

——

You seemed to be Steve’s first stop after his mission, stopping at your door with his duffel bag still attached to his arm, and wearing a slightly dirty and much too small white t-shirt.

Expecting his presence, you quickly got the door and gave him a toothy grin. 

“It’s so good to see your face without a screen,” Steve commented. Internally, you swooned. 

“I could say the same for you, Steve.”

Miso had been summoned by the sound of Steve’s voice, practically sprinting to the door and meowing at him on the top of her lungs. 

“Miso really appreciates you coming here to see her first,” you added as he lifted her up and quietly cooed into her wrinkly head. “Feel free to take her for the next few days. I’m sure she’s getting tired of me.”

Steve shook his head at you, and grinned, “that’s so sweet of you,” he briefly looked down at his wristwatch, and his brows raised.

“Shit. I have to go, but I promise to see you soon. I’m glad to see that everything is well. Take care, Y/N,” Steve began making his way back to his own apartment, and you watched him with the semblance of a frown. 

You really needed to stop longing for the unobtainable. 

——

You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few days following his return, and your brief interaction with him. Part of you wondered if he was avoiding you for some  reason. 

Your phone lit up the room as it went off, and you grabbed it to look at the notification you received.

A picture of Steve grinning with Miso sitting on his chest looked back at you with a simple message connected to it.

Wanna come over? :D

[ashintheairlikesnow]

“I’m not telling you again.”

If you’re still doing the sentence prompts?

CW: Vampirism, blood drinking, minor whumpee (OC is 17), captivity, referenced dehydration and starvation, forced turning, wishing for death, religion

1905, somewhere outside New York City

-

"Come here, little one."

The boy presses himself back against the cold stone wall behind him. There's a cuff around one ankle, dull iron, and a chain that scrapes the floor when he moves. He swallows, shaking his head rapidly from side to side. Dirty hair falls dull over eyes that sparkle vibrant green in the near-total darkness.

He can't see her.

But she can see him.

"No." His voice is a whimper, a nearly-animal whine, pure fear. "Please, please, please no, not, not, not tonight, not... not tonight, please."

She sighs, chuckling fondly, and pulls a match across her palm to light the lamp that hangs on a hook down here. The wick catches flame, and now he sees the pale, pale skin, the deep red lips. The predator's gleam in glinting dark eyes.

She crooks a long, sharpened fingernail . He can see the hem of her dress, lace-edged, the skirt that sweeps up to curve her hips, the narrowed waist, the high neck. He's stared at illustrations of the Gibson girl put up in shop windows in stores that sell to richer women than he's ever known. She's an echo right down to the soft, upswept hair.

Like a man with an expensive coat hiding a knife, he thinks, that he means to slaughter you with. She's a monster who looks like an angel.

"I'm not telling you again. I'm hungry," She says, and gives a little pout. "I want you to feed me."

He pulls his arms in close, shaking his head again. Tears already threaten. He's so tired, all the time. There is never time enough to heal from one bite before the next and the next and the next-

"Come now, little pet. It's just one last time." Her voice is gentle, but he knows they lie. They all lie to get their fangs in you.

"What, what, what d'you mean?" The boy has a thick country Irish accent, still. Fresh off the boat, they call him when he tries to speak to the boys his age in his tenement. Half of them have accents like his, or thicker.

Not that he'll see any of them ever again.

Not since his parents-

Not since-

He chokes on a sob he can't quite hold back, turning at the waist to rub his fingers over the rough, cool stone. It helps. The motion, the texture, it helps. It calms him down, a little.

Everything here is wrong.

He misses home. He misses the green hills that were never so full of dirt ground in as the city streets are. He misses the air that didn't smell like offal day and night. He misses a world where it was all less overwhelming. He misses a world where his parents were alive to help him understand it.

"Oh, you're sad tonight," The monster wearing a woman's face says, taking the lamp off the hook and carrying it closer. The shadows dance off her cheekbones, they seem to give her a sneer rather than her soft smile. "Let Malorie be of aid to you. Tell me what you need, sweet boy."

"Can, can, can I have a-a drink? Miss?" His voice is hoarse from thirst, and he's parched. It has rained for two weeks and he's drunk the rainwater that leaks in through the walls, plus the few sips they give him each day. Food is a bit of moldy bread, cheese, maybe a thin soup. It isn't enough.

They don't seem to notice, or care.

But then food or water is something they left behind, isn't it?

"Hm." She steps forward, closer to him. Her eyes flash in the dark, reflect the bit of light, and he cringes back from her fangs as she smiles down at him. She moves to crouch before him, and sets the lamp down on the floor beside her. "Is it thirst that drives you, little one?"

"Please." His lips are chapped and cracked. He tastes blood, sometimes, and spits pink-tinged spit to blend with the soil beneath him. He tries to look pitiful - it's not hard to succeed. "Please. I'm, I'm so so so so... so thirsty, ma'am, just a cup, please-"

She looks down, unfastening the line of tiny pearl buttons on one sleeve, then rolling back the fabric to expose her wrist. A stray curl of dark hair falls down to brush her perfect cheekbone.

"Ma'am?" He can't understand what she's doing - none of them had ever started to undress in front of him before. "A drink, ma'am? Please?"

She looks up, and her eyes gleam like a cat's in the dark. Her teeth are very very white. He can see the venom shimmering on her fangs.

"A drink you want, you beautiful boy," She says, and he stares with uncomprehending horror as she moves her wrist towards her own mouth. "And a drink you shall have."

She tears her own wrist open with her teeth.

He gasps and tries to get up to run, but he's weak and dizzy and when she yanks at the chain that binds his ankle to the wall he goes down hard and lands with a thump, the breath knocked out of him.

While he wheezes air into lungs that won't take it, she pushes him onto his back and forces her wrist against his mouth, her other hand pinching his nose shut.

He cries out in horrified disgust against her cold skin and the thick brackish fluid that flows over his tongue. She stares down at him, avid, with huge eyes.

"Drink, sweet boy," She murmurs. "Quench your thirst."

He must drink or suffocate, and his body chooses for him. He swallows even as he gags, and swallows again, and she lets go of his nose so he can frantically pull in air, tears streaming to pool in the shells of his ears and soak into his grimy, dirty hair.

She is a blur through his terror, but her smile is written in stone in the yard beside a church.

"My turn," She says, and when she buries her fangs into his neck, the boy screams again.

And then goes limp as the venom takes hold, and the vampire begins to purr, her fingers gripped like claws into his shoulders.

There is no pain.

Only the fear.

I'm going to die, he thinks, and stares up into the darkness that wipes out even the lamplight. It seems like it's growing, within him and without.

His mouth is full of blood. It tastes better than it did when first she made him drink. The heaving of his stomach stops. He starts to swallow willingly, even eagerly. Nothing has ever quenched his thirst quite like this. It doesn't taste at all like he'd thought.

I'm going to die.

He wants to go home.

He wants more to drink.

He's so hungry.

He wants more blood.

When she pulls her wrist away, he whines and tries to grab at it, to pull it back. She laughs, swatting playfully at him.

"Not yet," She chides, wagging a finger. She licks her open wound and it closes. She laps at the remaining blood and he tries to sit up, to get some too, only for her to push him down again.

Then... pain.

Agony hits, a bright stripe straight up his spine, and he arches away from the ground, throwing his head back and screaming loud enough to bounce off all the walls. It recedes, and then comes again, through his stomach this time. The throb moves to his hips, thighs, into his calves and all the way to his toes.

He curls into a ball on his side, but the pain keeps growing. It takes over. He can't feel the floor he lays on, only the constant spark of nerves blaring alarm. He feels like he is being crushed under a rock, burned by the hottest fire, stabbed with a hundred knives.

"Wh, what, what's happening-... t'me?!" He coughs, and then sobs as the action hurts more than anything else ever has in his life.

"You're dying." She picks at her fingernails, already bored.

He turns to look up at her as she stands, licking her chops like a cat. Tears run down his face, and every time he blinks the air seems pink-tinged. "What...?"

"That's your body shutting down. You know, you're very fortunate." She wipes a droplet of the boy's own blood from the corner of her mouth and then sucks her finger clean. "Very few people get to be born twice. I'll see you tomorrow night. I would prefer if you didn't call me your mother."

Before he can even begin to form a question, she turns to walk away, hanging the lamp up on its hook as she goes, blowing out the flame.

The pain ripples again, he is broken like a brittle shell against the shore. His very bones feel as though they're tearing apart inside him.

He's going to die here.

And he won't stay dead. His parents will wait in Heaven for a demon son who will never be allowed to step foot into Paradise.

He gulps in air, lungs burning, and tries to remember the prayer through his panic. "Our Father, wh-who art in Heaven, hallowed be be be Thy Name-"

His throat blisters even saying the words, and when he tries to cross himself, his hand shakes too much, his joints crack and shatter. He can feel it, he can hear it. They crack and reform, break and bend.

He screams.

He screams until his throat is raw, until it bleeds, until his heart stops beating and blood runs from eyes and ears and from under his nails.

He whispers every prayer he's ever known when he can. He begs for salvation, he begs to be spared eternal bloodlust, he pleads for something other than damnation. He prays he'll see his parents in death and not become a monster like this.

His prayers are swallowed whole by darkness.

He dies, but he does not die for long.

-

Tag list:  @mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[strawberry-jammers]

a child to protect (pt 3)

tommy x child!reader || a fun time

tommy gets cloths for (y/n) to wear in the tundra, and has a little fashion show

pt1 pt2 pt3 pt 4

The next morning Tommy got up to steal more things, and make (y/n) more clothes for colder climates. Tommy whent outside to get some wool, having stolen everything he wanted from technos. He needed to get some supplies for his kid.

Tommy opened the door from the basement, walking outside to the cold air. It smelled of winter goodness and blood. Tommy didnt pay to much mind, not even to the fact he was supposed to be hiding. Tommy started his walk to the forest for some sheep. “I think blue would be a good color, ghostbur would love it-”

“HEH tommy what are you doing near my home??” ah. He forgot about the blade. “Hey hey man hahaha funny seeing you here!” techno growled. “It's literally my home, what are you doing here?” tommy looked at the blade. “This is my home! Technoblade i think you've gone a little crazy there bud.” techno pulled out a pickaxe. “Ill sick this threw your teeth, get out of my house tommy.” “blade blade, this is our house! We own it together-” techno was tired of this. “Wait how long have you been here??” tommy grabbed a grapple. “A day or so.” he bite the golden apple. “That's where all my stuff whe- wait is that mine!!!” tommy walked back inside, albeit quickly and panicky. “Finders keepers, besides it was in our house.” “IT'S LITERALLY NOT YOUR HOUSE!” tommy shook his head, eating the apple. “Do you have any wool or something to make cloths with? I need to make some.” “yeah, your outfit is atrocious, it's also torn up and dirty and stuff.” tommy yelled back, “NOT FOR ME BITCH!” techno stood there a bit confused, until he heard a bell sound from below them. “hEH??”

before

 (Y/n) sat in the room, playing with the stick Tommy gave them months before. They had to wait for their dad to come back, but after awhile they got restless. 

(Y/n) heard loud noises upstairs, but they were more determined to find something new to do. Looking around the room, they saw a gold bell next to the prime log. Eyes sparkling, they crawled over to the bell, holding their stick in hand. Sitting next to the bell, they touched the shiny thing, intrigued. They then had a bright idea

Beat the thing with the stick. 

So they started to bang the bell with the stick. It was loud, very loud, they soon stopped and started crying instead. They were really close to the bell and hurt their ears. A faint “hEH'' was heard upstairs, but (y/n) couldn't hear it over their crying. Tommy quickly climbed down the ladders to get to his child. “Hey hey, shhh it's okay, are you hurt?” tommy asks. Rushing over to the small child. They kept crying, Tommy not knowing what to do. “Shh shh hey hey it's okay, it's okay.” he said softly, trying to calm the child. (y/n) over time stopped crying, feeling more and more sleepy as time went on, all the while techno just stared at them, rightfully confused. Tommy rocked his baby till they fell asleep, placing them in their crib. Tommy looked at his child happily, before turning to the person he was fighting a second ago.

“So, got any wool?”

------

Techno, albeit against his will, let tommy and (y/n) stay with him for the time being. In exchange, they had teamed up for the time being. Techno didn't really like his predicament, having to deal with an annoying brat and an orphan, but he had to go with it. The voices enjoyed having the baby around, so techno couldn't kill them.

Shortly after their confrontation, techno went out to gather wool for the two. Tommy took what he had and started to make more clothes for the child. He had learned the basics of sowing from eret way back when, so he tried his best. 

"(Y/n), try this on." The baby looked at him, just wanting to play with the crows that visited often. "No." Tommy sat there, baffled. "D-did you just tell me no??" "No!" "Okay well now you just lying." The kid giggled, continuing to pet the crows. Tommy grabbed his kid, sitting them on his lap. "Your trying this on." The kid pouted, but complied, slipping on the sweater. "Good?" The kid nodded, crawling off tommys lap and sitting with the crows again. 

Tommy sat there for a second, contemplating. "How the fuck do i make pants…"

Tommy had to ask techno if he knew how. He didn't, since he's never had to make pants, so he asked Phil if he had any baby cloths or if he knew how.

“Helloo” techno says as he enters phil's home. “Jesus christ- you know your not allowed in limburg tech.” techno shrugs. “Eh, anyway i came here for something.” phil nodded. “What is it that you need? Ore, food, books-” “i need baby clothes.” “WHAT-” phil wasn't expecting that request. “I need baby clothes, got any? I know wilbur was once a kid so.” phil looked at his old friend questioningly. “Do you have a kid??” techno looked very offended at this. “Ew no id never adopt an orphan. No, tommy needs it.” phil was still confused. “Techno, tommys not a baby-” “NO NOT LIKE THAT! He found a kid so now he's raising them, and they need baby clothes.” phil nodded. “Ohh sorry mate, yeah i think i have some of wilburs old cloths. Lemme go check.”

Phil came back with a bag full of wilburs old clothes, he said just to take it and see which would work for a baby. 

“I wish i could come visit, but tubbo needs me for some fucking reason.” techno nodded. “Thank you phil.” philza smiled. “Anytime, now go, make sure tommy didn't kill any of the animals.” techno panicked. “NO THE TURTLES-” 

------

“Okay little (f/i), we’re gonna try this on okay?” (y/n) nodded, ready for the cool new outfit they are gonna get. 

Tommy pushed a mirror in front of the child. “You like it?” they baby wore a striped yellow sweater with some cute little overalls. They also had snow boots and a beanie to go with it. (y/n) smiled, giggling partly at the fact that they were looking at themself. “You look cute big man! Now, lets see if there's anything else you might like.” 

The rest of the day was spent picking out clothes for them, seeing what fit and what they liked. Tommy was having fun with this, so he suggested they do a fashion show for when philza could visit. The kid was excited at this, wanting to meet the all so old philza minecraft. Tommy took care of the clothes that they didn't like or just plain wouldnt fit, while (y/n) messed with the toys that were found in the bag. 

“TECHNOOOO!” tommy yells, climbing up the ladder. “Whaaat.”he says, in the main part of the house. “Can phil come here tomorrow???” techno climbs down the ladder to meet the loud child. “Why?” tommy throws the bag in a random corner. “(y/n) wants to meet phil and show them their outfits.” tommy says, not as loud as before. Techno sighs. “Ill see if he can.” YEEEES!!! (Y/N) (Y/N) I HAVE GOOD NEWS-” tommy yells, climbing down the ladder as fast as possible. Techno chuckled, getting back to what he was doing prior.

The next day, phil came by as requested. He was excited to meet the young child, remembering when wilbur was young. Philza opened the front door of the cottage. “Helloooo.” techno says as always. “Hey mate, how's the wife?” techno snorted. “Great great, sitting in the boat as always.” they stare at edward who was staring at them as always. “In all seriousness, whos taking care of tommy been?” he asks, sitting down at one of the chairs. “Fine fine, nearly lost my hearing but other than that fiiine.” phil chuckled. “yeah he’ll do that.”

Tommy came up stairs, hearing the new presence come into the house. “Phiiilza, big p how you beeeen!” philza stared at him. “Don't call me that. I've been fine, visiting tech whenever i can. I heard your raising a baby? How's that going.” tommy sat in the chair next to the old man. “Great! (y/n)s been great, having spent some time alone, their happy with the constant attention.” tommy says happily. “What do you mean by alone?” phil asked, concerned on what he meant by that. “Uhh, anyways me and (y/n) wanna put on a little show for you! They wanna show off their new outfits.” phil let it slide, not wanting to pry to hard. “Aww mate, i wanna see the outfits.” tommy smiled, running off. “TECHNO SET THE STAGE. (Y/N) GET HYPED!!” techno snorted, displeased.

Philza chuckled at his old friend. “First i let him into my home, not killing his child, and now i'm doing shit for him? Ugh.” techno works on the little stage area for the two kids. “Calm down mate, he's just excited.” techno rolled his eyes, sitting next to phil. 

“WE’RE BACK!!” startling the two old men, Tommy runs up the stairs with (y/n) covered in a small blanket. He says the outfits are a surprise.

“Ready everyone?” phil and techno say yes while (y/n) says no, their favorite word. “Youre not ready (n/n)?” (y/n) shook their head. “Hat!'' Tommy gasped. “Your hat!” tommy grabs (y/n)s hat from the pile that he brought up and put it on their head. “There! Now you ready?” the kid nodded, getting ready for the fashion show they had been preparing for. 

“Okay!! Go little (f/i)!” (y/n) crawled their way in front of the curtain that blocked the old men from seeing the other two. They tried to stand up, having the help of Tommy to get on their feet. They stood proudly, showing off their winter outfit. They adorned a dark green winter coat, with black pants and little snow boots. They also had a grey beanie to add to the outfit. 

They continued this, philza thoroughly enjoyed the show they had put on, and techno thoroughly hated it. He kept trying to leave, but Phil kept dragging the piglin hybrid back to his seat. He didnt wanna ruin the fun the two were having. 

"Tadaaa!!!" (Y/n) said, having finished the show. Phil clapped happily, while techno slowly clapped as to not be the only one not clapping. Tommy picked up the small child, holding them in his arms. "That was fun, right little (f/i)?" Tommy asks. (Y/n) nodded, giggling happily. "Fun!" Philza laughed, standing up. "I better get going, Don't want ghostbur getting worried." "Awwwww buy you haven't fully met (y/n) yeeeet." Tommy complains, Phil just laughs at him. "I'll be back eventually. Now i have to go. Bye (y/n), you did really well back there." "No!" (Y/n) says, even tho they looked pleased with the compliment. 

"Bye everyone, have fun cleaning that up." Phil says, referring to the stage and piles of clothes. Techno snorts in annoyance while Tommy just ignores phil's comment. Philza leaves the house, closing the door behind him. 

"Anyways, have fun with that techno!!" "Oh no you don't! GET BACK HERE!!!"

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] 4th Anniversary– “Love Around The City” with Victor (Part 1)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for contents that are yet to be released in the global server! ♡

🚌 Previous Stop: Prologue 

Today’s Station: Rescue Center

This is a place where homeless animals can take refuge from the rain. It’s also a resting spot before they find their forever home.

Today, the Rescue Center is filled with people as always, and the volunteers can barely keep up. A stack of incomplete adoption application forms need to be handled. The adopters are nearby, so let’s interview them and gather some information regarding their adoption requirements.

Once the information has been gathered, let’s recommend the adopters suitable animals from the Rescue Center~

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

[NOTE]: I will be adding details for the locations, but will be summarizing the tips for the tasks, cause I’m short on time :’(

—

✧ [Location 1: Foster Home] ✧

This is a family that loves little animals. If you have to go on business trips often and are worried that no one will take care of your little cutie, they are very willing to help you.

[Task Management Tips]: Among many workers living nearby, a white-collar worker is looking for a pet. Help him to find the right pet while seeking for clues.

–

[IDLE CHAT]

Victor: Are you relieved now?

MC: Yup! Relieved.

MC: I hope the little one will always be happy....

Victor: It will be. This is the foster home we’ve found for it together.

Victor: It will surely live as happy a life as Pudding.

–

[TASK]

Office Worker: Are you guys a couple attending the event? Could you do me a favor?

MC: Hello, go ahead.

White-collar worker: I don’t have much time to spend with my daughter because I’m too busy at work. So I’d like to adopt a pet for my daughter.

White-collar worker: She usually likes to watch movies related to Shiba-Inu and also likes to play around and noisy activities. So a pet of almost the same temperament would be the best.

MC: Mm, I will help you in asking around and I will make sure you find a pet as lively as me!

Victor: ....did a certain someone just say a defective sentence?

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

✧ [Location 2: Verdant Plaza] ✧

The public square brims with the color green, and is the best place for parents to walk their cats and dogs with their children in tow. When the sunlight is just right, one can also lie on the grass and have a lovely afternoon nap.

[Task Management Tips]: Look for clues while strolling in the park.

–

[IDLE CHAT]

MC: Victor, I think it’s very important to have such a piece of greenery in the city.

Victor: Should I thank you for your brilliant insight into urban planning?

MC: Would you like to set up a small garden inside the building for LFG as well?

Victor: Or may be, you can give me a layout and a proposal on the planning in three days.

MC: Pardon, sorry to have bothered you.

–

[TASK]

Victor: Why are you laughing secretly?

MC: Uh-huh, I’ve already infiltrated into the most mysterious and important internal group of LFG—— “LFG Cat Lovers’ Group”!

MC: I can’t believe that LFG actually has such an adorable group too!

Victor: The company has many employees who raise cats, so someone has created a group.

MC: You’re not sneaking in a small number to enter in the cat lovers’ too, are you?

Victor: The dummy at home is already enough to toss me around, I don’t have the time to care for someone else.

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

✧ [Location 3: My Office] ✧

This company became famous because of the show “Miracle Finder”, and it often produces unique and thought-provoking shows that convey dreams and issues about life.

[Task Management Tips]: A director in your company has affinity for small animals and has filled in the adoption form. Find out his preferences and seek for clues.

–

[IDLE CHAT]

Victor: Why are you losing your head in a panic?

MC: Because I remembered there is a file I hadn’t sent to you....!

Victor: ....dummy. there is no need to be particularly diligent at times like this.

Victor: I’ll be here with you the whole day today and I won’t have the time to approve it either.

MC: Good point!

–

[TASK]

Director: After being involved in the production of many advertisements on guide dogs, I can sincerely feel that animals are friends of humans.

Director: I’m usually too busy at work and would like to have one to keep my parents company at home. My old ones like to be quiet, so a quieter one in nature would be the best.

MC: When you see a quiet little animal, it can calm down your heart as well, huh.

Victor: So long as it’s something you like, you can feel the calmness and liveliness.

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

✧ [Location 4: Pet Supplies Store] ✧

This is the pet supplies store with the best reputation and most comprehensive stock in Loveland City. When it comes to pet toys and supplies, the only thing that is limited is one’s imagination.

[Task Management Tips]: There’s a divination house proprietor who wants to adopt a stray animal. Learn about his preferences and seek for clues.

–

[IDLE CHAT]

MC: Wow! This little scarf is so cute, we can give it to pudding!

Victor: Okay, then take it home.

Victor: Is there anything else you want to give to Pudding?

MC: Victor, what do you think could be the probability of us taking over the shop?

Victor: ....let’s go home now.

–

[TASK]

MC: Hello. May I ask, have you come here to choose a pet of your liking?

Divination house proprietor: I’m looking for a pet that’d have the same spiritual nature as me....

Divination house proprietor: Pets with special colored eyes have more spiritual influence. I hope it can be like me and like more to stay at home.

MC: I’ve heard that pets with spiritual nature can bring a lot of inspiration. I wonder if it works....

Victor: If you’re referring to the planning inspiration on proposals, calling the number pinned to the top of your contact list would be more useful.

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

✧ [Location 5: Loveland Stadium] ✧

Are private instructors too expensive? Is yoga too stale? Why not visit the plain and unadorned Loveland Stadium and enjoy the simple joys of exercise?

[Task Management Tips]: There are many school children near the gymnasium, take a stroll with him over there to see what clues you can find.

–

[IDLE CHAT]

MC: What do you think about this tennis skirt?

Victor: I think that a certain someone came over in high spirits to pick up a pair of tennis rackets, but she went straight to the clothing section instead?

MC: This is called “a handy tool makes a handy man”. I need to enhance my armor.

Victor: If I remember correctly, this is a certain someone’s third set of tennis skirts.

Victor: Rather, when will you let me see the results of your “enhanced armors” again?

MC: Until next time....!

–

[TASK]

MC: Look, there are many elementary school students over there.

Victor: Should be a sports day organized by the school.

MC: When I was in school, I looked forward to the sports day the most.

Victor: All snackable and lively events are on your list of things to look forward to.

MC: I even won a place in school’s sports day, imagine that!

Victor: On the contrary, it’s not hard to imagine how a certain dummy would look like after she receives her prize certificate.

Victor: It definitely would have been a brilliantly giggling face.

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

✧ [Epilogue] ✧

The rescue center has been set up not long ago. Today happens to be another day of rest, so not only are there many adopters coming here, but the activity area is also bustling with noise and excitement.

MC: There are so many cats and dogs made out of soft pottery, so cute!

Staff member: These are all molded by the owners of the pets. You guys can come and pinch out your darling one!

MC: Great idea!

Exhilarated, I wink at Victor as I fetch my soft pottery and sit down.

MC: Let’s compete to see who can pinch out the one most look-alike to Pudding!

Victor: A certain someone always has a particularly strong desire to win at these times.

Although he says this, Victor still fetches the colors he needs for the soft pottery.

MC: Why did you bring so many colors, you can’t use them all on Pudding, can you?

Victor: They will have their usefulness.

Aren’t we trying to pinch out a simple setting for a kitten? I don’t think much into it and quickly throw myself into my craftsmanship.

Soon, my Pudding finally takes shape. When I’m about to flaunt my progress to Victor, I freeze as I raise my head and see the model Victor has pinched out.

MC: Victor.... is that Pudding you’re making?

Victor: I certainly am not.

He unfolds his hand, laying in his palm is clearly a girl in a skirt, and the design of the skirt.... is identical to the one I’m wearing today.

MC: ....I’m not a pet!

Victor: I didn’t pinch out a pet either.

Victor curls the corners of his lips and hands the soft ceramic figurine into my hand.

Victor: The staff member just now said they were pinching out their honey, didn’t they?

—

[Note: The staff member and Victor both use the term “宝贝” (bǎobèi) which translates as it pronounces HAHA– “baby/darling/honey/sweetheart”. It also translates to “treasured one”.]

[T/N: I was seeing CN players going “SKDFKFKDJDKEHDKFJ” these few days over something Victor said, now I found what it was LOL. Victor, here, is killing two birds with one stone. He is calling MC his treasured one, and at the same time he is using the pet name “baby/darling.” ⁄(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ ]

—

🚌 Next Stop: Hongluan Temple 

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

[yeojaa]

finders keep hers.

reads part two and three.  a drabble about idiots in love because it is literally my favourite trope in the world and also, who can resist a fuck boy!jk and a won't-tell-him!best friend?  c'mon!  also, big thanks to @hobi-gif​ for being the best beta reader i could ever ask for.  xoxo

pairing.  jjk x (named) f!reader.  rating.  ... explicit.  tags.  smut with idiots!  big fucking idiots who do dumb things!  but yeah, unprotected sex (please wrap the willy and don’t be silly), a lil bit of dirty talk, some angst if you squint at the right times.  wc.  2.2k.

“Baby.”  It comes out whiny and breathless, a world away from the usual confidence that spills off of his tongue.  He’s half delirious, grip imprinting itself into the yielding flesh of your thighs.  Each noise he makes sounds like it’s about to fully form before dropping off, stolen by some bliss that seems to reside back behind his eyelids.  It splits and breaks over and over, murmurs of your name and affection and whatever else he can think of in the moment.

You love when he’s like this.  Love that you can bring him to this - a man on his knees (or, more literally, on his back).

“Hm?”  Laughter crawls off your tongue, slinking into the heavy air and dripping into the spaces between you, like the sweat that creeps down your neck and beads at his temples. You punctuate the question with a deliberate roll of your hips, single hand splayed out across the delightfully firm expanse of his chest. 

The noise he makes is sinful - almost beguiling enough for you to stop the slow torture - but you think better of it when he meets your motion with one of his own.  It’s disjointed, far less measured than yours, and driven by a need he can barely articulate.

“Use your words, Kookie.”  

His childhood nickname shouldn’t sound the way it does - like fucking in powder rooms and secluded cabanas.  It should spring forward light and airy, more childhood friendship than unbridled twenty-something year old lust.  

You don’t think he minds, though.  He certainly doesn’t look like he minds.  

“Baby, please.”  He moans it so prettily - like he’s begging for all the stars in the sky - that you want to give it to him.  Want to, but won’t, because that’s not how this goes and you know he’ll thank you for it later.  He always does.

“Please what, Bunny ?”  You’re really teasing now.  You wonder if he’ll hold it against you when he’s back to his senses. 

Back to being Jeon Jungkook, the man with everything. 

“You’re being mean.”  How he manages to huff it when he’s hardly lucid, you’re not sure.  You have to applaud him - reward him - so you do, dragging your fluttering walls off his cock, and all but dropping yourself back upon it.  It’s the first inch you’ve given all afternoon - the first taste of anything other than slow and steady wins the race. 

The grip on your hips borders on painful, the neatly trimmed edges of his nails digging into the pliant tanned skin.  Your own fingers readjust, tweaking his nipple in the way you know he loves, and he nearly flinches away before leaning heavily into your touch, entire chest heaving.

“Fuck me,”  he whines, again, in that voice.  You snicker above him, soothing the red assault lines you’ve left across his torso with sweet brushes of your fingertips and the occasional graze of your lips.

“I am, honey.”

You know he tries to hold in the pent-up energy that radiates through his entire body, buzzing from his toes all the way up his spine.  He bucks beneath you, seeking more, more, more like the greedy brat he is.  

“Nuh uh,”  you repeat, like a scolding school teacher.  “You take what I give - or I’m going home.”

The threat is very real - you’ve done it before - and he immediately stills, eyes flashing wide and earnest up at you.  His thumb rubs soothing circles across your hip bone - right where he’d dug his fingers in only moments earlier.  

“I’m sorry,”  he croaks and you know he means it.  You can hear it in the way he can hardly speak.  He tries again, softer now, with his charm turned up to eleven, tongue swiping over the spit-slicked edge of his bottom lip.  “Please, angel?”  

One hand is halfway up your side, moving with purpose until he finds the sensitive edge of your ribs, touch trailing over where he can feel each individual bone.  He repeats the motion once, twice, before pressing the broad palm of his hand over your right shoulder blade, splaying digits across your back.  You both know how easy it would be for him to drag you chest-to-chest, but he refrains - just looks up at you with those big doe eyes of his.

“Give me what I want, princess.”  He’s pulling out all the stops - dressing you in every pet name imaginable.  “I’ll make it worth your while - make that pretty pussy all messy for me.”

You don’t miss how he’s slowly grinding into you, the friction against your aching clit buzzing in the back of your mind as he whispers his sweet nothings.  

“I don’t know, Bunny.”  You’re playing a very specific role now.  The role of aloof prey-turned-hunter, not a care in the world in sight.  It doesn’t matter that maybe - just maybe, it’s all a very carefully practiced facade.  It’s what he - and you - both need.

Each time you don’t flat out deny him, he’s emboldened.  He ruts his hips into you a little more firmly, fucks himself into you with a little more intention.  You hardly even notice the coil of his hand until the heat from his palm is searing through the delicate skin of your neck, his fingers pressing into the sensitive spot beneath your ear. 

You want to rebuff him a bit longer but Jungkook knows all of your weaknesses and exploits them like a power hungry tyrant.  “I don’t hear a ‘no’ , baby.”  

Not like you can say much of anything when he’s got his hand around your throat.  He knows that just as well as you.  

“Tell me you want this, too.”  He doesn’t need the affirmation but he craves it from you - demandsit by dropping his other hand from your waist to the apex of your thighs.  He repeats himself as he swirls his thumb over your clit, circling it with the lightest of pressure.

His grip on your neck even relents enough to allow an answer to slip past your lips.  In his mind, he’s being very, very lenient. 

You do your best to refrain.  Frankly, you think you do better than most women would.  But there’s still only so much you can take and a sharp, tantalizing pinch to your most sensitive bundle of nerves is not one of them. 

It sparks an inferno through you, heat devouring every ounce of sensibility.  

“Okay, okay!”  You’re matching him in tone, petulence tearing off your tongue.  “I give.”  

He grins - that slow, cat-ate-the-canary thing that demands attention and steals hearts.  The same smile he’s carried his entire life, buck-toothed and adorable.  “That’s right, baby.  I always win.”  Triumph colours his words and you almost roll your eyes;  he stops you with an abrupt repositioning, your sweat-slicked frame pushed off him in a single fluid motion.  You feel like a ragdoll. 

You don’t have time to reprimand him before he’s got you, crowded against your back with his face buried against your nape and his cock brushing through your folds.  Your knees are kicked apart, spread obscenely around him.  His favourite position, you think, though he’d claim otherwise. 

“Jungkook!”  You snarl, growing impatient with how he teases you, forearm caged right beneath your breasts and the other resting against the mattress. 

For all his bitching and complaining, he’s being a real big asshole now.

“What - no more Bunny?”  The words roll hotly into your ear, followed by the sharp edge of enamel as he nips at the delicate cartilage and tongues right below your lobe at the spot that makes you keen.  He’s mocking you, dragging the swollen head of his cock against your clit over and over but never giving you more - never taking you in the way he’d begged to do.

“If you don’t smarten up right now—”  It’s a hiss that leaves no room for argument.  “—get the hell off me.”

Maybe it’s sixteen years of friendship or maybe it’s how hot you sound when you’re pissed off.  Either way, it’s the last straw and he’s burying himself to the hilt, filling you up so well that you can’t help the way you moan, lewd like a well-paid pornstar.  

“Better?”  He huffs, somehow, in between his hard unrelenting thrusts that bounce you across his thousand thread count sheets.  

His lips find a spot right between your neck and shoulder and he mouths greedily over it, saliva soothing the roses that bloom beneath his teeth.  He does this every time - marking you in ways you can’t stop, placing a glaring neon sign that reads JEON JUNGKOOK . 

“Stop talking.”  Not that you don’t love his voice - not that you don’t love him, deep down - but because you can’t focus.  You’re far too tightly strung from your earlier activities and your insides feel like they’re melting, molten lava seeping through your system each time he presses back into you.

You can feel every ridge and vein, anchored with nowhere to go by his weight.  It’s absurd how he stretches and fills you - like you can feel him all the way in your throat.  It’s too much and not enough all at once.

“Don’t get mouthy,”  he returns, playful as ever.  A small part of you wonders how he looks - if he’s got that stupid grin on his face - but you know you can’t turn.  He’s calling all the shoots now, just like he loves to do.  “C’mere, angel.”  You’re up and back in the next instant;  he’s holding you flush against his chest with ease, hips hardly missing a beat as he pulls you upright.  

Damn him and his strength.

The sound you make when his cock drags against that particular spot inside you is almost laughable.  “Kook .”  His name is hardly that - more of a garbled plea.  You briefly wonder if you look as stupid as you suddenly sound.  

Satisfaction practically rolls off him in waves, suffocating you just as his right hand does, the left darting to focus on your clit.  “That’s right.”  He’s saccharine sweet, nipping and nibbling at your pulse as he feels it jump beneath his tongue.

You’ve done this enough times that he knows you’re close and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t, too.

“Come on, baby.  Let go - I know you want to.”  You can’t stop yourself when he’s whispering so nicely, coaxing you into a state of euphoria with his hand and his cock and his goddamn good-for-nothing mouth.  You’re mewling nonsense, meeting his every movement like your life depends on it.  You’re so close, tittering on the edge of an impossibly dark abyss;  you think you might cry.  

Then all at once, with a particularly rough snap of his hips and just a bit more pressure on your clit, white hot heat sears through you.  It starts in your core and pulls through your limbs, dissolving your bones into nothingness as you reach your long-awaited high.  

Tears are spilling over before you can register it, wetness heavy in your throat and the line of your lashes. 

“That’s right.  Cream all over this cock, baby.  Good girl.”  Jungkook never ceases his quiet words of encouragement or how he rocks against you, your name rolling off his tongue like a balm to soothe the burns he’s left behind.  

Even while he’s chasing his own release, he never forgets about you, humming reassurances into your curtain of dark hair.

You try to return the favour - it’s an almost impossible feat - when his hips stutter and he loses his rhythm.  Fisted into the sheets, your hand finds his, thin fingers coiling around knuckles that strain white beneath permanent ink.  

“Kook.  Kook.  Please cum for me.”  

You’re begging him in a way he can’t resist and he spills inside of you then, filling you so well you can feel it slick down your thighs as he rides out his high.  

When he’s spent and satisfied, he breaks away and tosses himself at your side, rolling onto his back.  He sounds like he’s run a marathon when he speaks, out of breath and giddy.  “God - you’re so good for me.”  He says it almost like he means it as more than it is - more than a casual fuck on a Friday night.

You’re up before he has a chance to pull you to him, picking up your discarded clothes as you move towards his bathroom.    

“You’re leaving?”  Why he sounds so surprised, you’re not sure but you’re grateful for the closed door and the inability to see his face.  You can only imagine how it looks, framed by his just-fucked mess of hair and bathed in the afternoon light.  

You emerge from the bathroom fully clothed, strands of your own swept into a haphazard braid that hides the mosaic he’d painted with his mouth.  You’re careful not to meet his stare as you retrieve your bag from his immaculately kept desk, sliding it over your shoulder.  “I have a report I need to submit tonight.”

“You can do it here.”  He’s not wrong - you’d done most of your university coursework in his living room. 

But that was then and this is now and it’s hard enough sleeping with your best friend without feelings getting in the way so you shake your head and laugh, nonchalant as you can manage.  “You have coffee with that girl from Wednesday at 8 AM and I’m definitely not in the mood for an early morning tomorrow.”

You can practically see the gears turning in his head - the proverbial gun he’s about to use to riddle your reasoning with holes - and raise a hand to silence him before he can begin.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”  Then you’re gone, half your heart in your chest and the other in the hands of your stupid, oblivious best friend.

[amethystroselilith]

Seelies and Treasures

I was inspired by the Seelies in the current event, thus another Chilumi fluff

SUMMARY: An AU where Childe's free-spirited adventurer with a Seelie companion who wanted to find him the greatest treasure.

Can also be read in ao3: here

He watches as his fellow Seelies got adopted, no matter how much he glows in his bottle, he’ll always be overshadowed by the Rosé and Curcuma Seelies. 

Another day has passed as the owner closed her stall, the old owner looking at the leftover Seelie on the shelves, with a sigh.

“Don’t lose hope, little one,” she said as she picked up the bottle, “I’m sure you’ll find a great home soon.” she smiled.

The Seelie had heard that a thousand times and each of those times have only been lead to disappointment.

Curcuma Seelies are always in demand as it brings good fortune, making them the top choice for adventurers who seeks treasures. These golden Seelie are pretty rare to find in stock in stores.

Rosé Seelies are known to bring love to whoever the Seelie had fancied, they are not typically the easiest to keep since the owner would have to prove the Rosé Seelie they’re worthy for their blessings, some of these powder-pink Seelies will even abandon its owner in favour of someone else. However, gaining the Rosé Seelie’s favour will lead them to a life full of warmth and love.

And there’s the Dayflower Seelies, the least popular choice. These sea-blue Seelies aren’t really popular for leading people to a chest full of mora or bringing romance in someone’s life, they are known for just tagging along to keep you company in adventures. 

They used to be popular before, but as time pass, people would prefer Seelies that guarantee to get them what they want as soon as possible. All Seelies are great companion, the Curcuma and Rosé ones just have a little advantage over the Dayflowers.

The old lady placed the Seelie bottle back in its shelf, ready to retire for the night until a voice came.

“Ah, I guess I came to late.” the visitor sighed in disappointed.

The old lady chuckled at the young man, “Unfortunately. The Curcuma and Rosé Seelies are sold out.” 

A blue glow came from the shelves, making it stand out from the darkness.

“Oh, looks like there’s still one!” the man’s face brightened up, causing the glow to grow intense in its own excitement.

“Ah, yes, we still have a Dayflower Seelie left, the last one actually.” the old woman said.

“Can I adopt it?” he asked.

“Oh, but you do know what Dayflower Seelies are, dear?” the old woman asked, though she would like to finally give the lonely Seelie a home, she doesn’t want it to be abandoned when someone learned that they’re not the most efficient treasure finders nor they guaranteed a happy love life.

“I’m fully aware, miss, they sound like the best adventure companions to me!” he grinned, “I don’t need an easy way to get a treasure, sounds like a dull adventure, nor am I really looking for a lover at the moment.” he blushed at the last part.

“My sonny, with that dashing looks, you wouldn’t need a Rosé Seelie to find you love.” the owner chuckled before picking up the bottle, smiling warmly at the glowing Seelie inside, 

“Your time has finally come to shine, little one.” 

After finishing the exchange to become a Seelie owner, the young man made his way, going in a quiet area before releasing the Dayflower Seelie from its bottle.

The happy Seelie excitedly jumped around his new owner, looking at him in different angles, curiously studying him.

“I’m glad to see you’re excited as I am, comrade!” the man chuckled before the Seelie settled in front of him, “I’m Childe.” he smiled.

~~~

“Ahaha! Did you see that Little Comrade?!” Childe excitedly asked the Seelie after the last Ruin Guard fell down, “Whoo, that was a great warm-up.” he sighed happily after having a thrilling battle against 4 Ruin Guards at once, his bow dematerialising to wherever Childe stores it.

Little Comrade did a happy spin before he and his owner walked to the chest.

“Whoa! A Luxurious Chest! Haven’t seen these in a long while! You did amazing Little Comrade!” Childe said excitedly, petting the Seelie before opening the chest and collecting the loot.

It’s 2 years since the Dayflower Seelie had found his home. Childe is the best owner the Seelie could ever ask for. They went to various adventures, slew a lot of enemies, and loot a lot of treasure. The free-spirited adventurer lived for thrilling battles, always aiming to be stronger as their adventure progress, so it’s no problem when the Seelie will sense a treasure locked around challenges. 

Childe gets annoyed with puzzle challenges though, and it usually takes them so long to get the loot, and treasure is still a treasure. Even common chests are still valuable as it gives some mora, artifacts, and some materials to make him stronger. 

“Well, now that I’ve warmed up, let’s get to work on commissions, yeah?” Childe smiled at the Seelie before they used a warped point to teleport to Liyue Harbor.

The ginger-haired man continues talking with the Seelie listens, “Do you ever wonder how these teleport points work, Little Comrade? Cause like…” 

The Seelie never meant to doze out on Childe, and this is one of the times his thankful he can’t talk or else he’ll get easily caught when Childe asks something for his opinion. While Little Comrade would always listen to Childe, something is just bothering him.

Childe is really kind to him, he never shouted at him when he accidentally leads them in circles when the treasure was just a few steps away from them in the start, never got annoyed with him when he only received cabbages from beating up an unusual hilichurl, or when they got surrounded by dozens of treasure hoarders in exploring ruins.

Little Comrade wants to do something in exchange for all those times, the little Seelie had been trying so hard to find Luxurious chests, but unfortunately, he doesn’t attract the same luck as a Curcuma Seelie does. It doesn’t stop him from trying though, he sensed a Luxurious Chest earlier, and just like how he’s been patient in that shop a long time ago, he’s determined to never lose hope.

They have arrived at the Adventurers’ Guild, Katheryn giving Childe a list of commissions before informing him of a letter.

“You know, you’ll get more benefits if you actually joined the guild.” Katheryn of Liyue reminded.

Childe shrugged, “I like adventuring freely, plus Little Comrade is doing great in giving us a comfortable life with what I currently earn from these commissions.” 

Little Comrade nodded, he also knows of Childe’s tendencies to go… a bit overboard in defeating an enemy. It happened one time when a group of treasure hoarders threatened to go after his family. Childe had taken care of the entire group, the Seelie is not sure what happened to them when they left them barely alive, but he knows they’ll never bother them again. 

The whole scene can be traumatic and will cause most to immediately fly away from Childe, but the Dayflower Seelie had pledged loyalty to this man and would accept his flaws as much as the great qualities. 

Katheryn just sighed, “I knew you’ll say that.”

“Then what’s the point of asking?” Childe chuckled.

The woman just shrugged, “Would still be worth it if you actually agree. There’s also a pair of travellers that just arrived in Liyue a few days ago. They’ve also been taking commissions but hasn’t officially joined yet.” 

“New travellers, huh?” Childe hummed, “What are they like?” his curiosity grew, will there be finally worthy opponents in this place?

“Well, they’re great at what they do, that’s for sure. The only people that’s been taking the dangerous ones aside from you.” Katheryn hummed as she checked her logs.

Childe’s eyes widened, “Huh, looks like we have some rivals, Little Comrade.” he smirked at Seelie.

Childe always loves challenges and Little Comrade will make sure his partner will win.

~~~

Childe and Little Comrade were having lunch in a ruin, “Ah, that’s a really good meal, huh, Little Comrade?” Childe stretched before leaning on a large rock, “I guess we can finally read our family’s letter.” he remembered the letter Katheryn passed him before he left.

The sea-blue companion hovered on Childe’s shoulder, he doesn’t really know how to read, he just likes to sit on Childe’s shoulder when he reads.

It was the usual contents, them scolding Childe when he told a story that sounds dangerous, them telling stories from their end, and the usual ending…

“Still waiting for the day you’ll bring the brightest treasure in your life.” Childe ended with confusion.

“We already brought loots from a luxurious chest last time, and it’s still not enough?” Childe sighed before closing the letter.

Little Comrade lowered his ears, disappointment once again in himself for failing his partner.

“Don’t be sad, buddy, even I’m confused with what type of chest is better than luxurious.” Childe cooed as he gathered the Seelie in his hand to pet it.

The Seelie perked up, showing a new determined glow.

Childe chuckled, “That’s the spirit, Little Comrade!”  he said forming a fist with a hand.

Little Comrade bumped it before doing a backflip, the best he can do for their secret fist bump.

“Well, that treasure isn’t going to find itself, so let’s get walking, Little Comrade,” Childe said as he extinguishes the fire he used for cooking.

They were about to walk out of the ruin until a noise was heard, Childe immediately summoned his bow, eyeing his surroundings careful.

A loud noise was heard and the ceiling trembled.

The pair silently followed the noise, Childe climbing up through a gaping hole in the ceiling. Carefully peeking from the wall, his eyes squinted in curiosity. 

There was a blonde girl climbing what seemed to be a geo construct, Childe watched as the girl summoned another geo construct on another pillar, the girl jumped again, gliding to the other rock, unfortunately, her stamina didn’t seem to be enough.

“Ojou-chan, hold still!” Childe had run, Little Comrade following. 

There’s a giant hole on where she’s falling, Childe jumped over it, catching the girl before they rolled around on the floor. 

“Lumine, are you okay?” a new voice arrived.

They turned to the newcomer, whose face burned red in anger, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he shouted.

It was too late for Childe to realise how they look like. The blonde girl was under him looking at him with wide eyes and a red face, her arms trapped under his weight while one of his is on her waist while the other beside her head. In a no context view, he looks like he was about to force himself on her.

“W-Wait-” 

It was too late for Childe to explain as an anemo force threw him on the other side of the room.

~~~

“I’m really sorry for my twin’s action.” the blonde apologised with a bow, a Rosé Seelie beside her doing the same.

“You can’t really blame me for that,” her twin mumbled as he carried Childe’s weight out of the ruin, a Curcuma Seelie hovering beside him watching curiously at the Dayflower Seelie frantically checking on Childe.

“Ah, it’s really fine, ojou-chan. And don’t worry, I would’ve acted the same if I saw my sisters in the same position.” Childe smiled weakly, an arm hugging his torso to ease some pain, “And I’m fine Little Comrade, you can stop fussing now.” he chuckled at the blue Seelie who had been worriedly hovering around its owner ever since he was thrown to the wall.

“So, Lumine and Aether,” he learned their names, “what are you guys doing here? I don’t see a lot of people venturing in these areas.” 

“Commission.” the twins answered in unison.

“We’re supposed to find someone’s belongings here,” Aether explained, “We already have it, but we like to explore the ruins, there’s usually a lot of treasures, I just wish my dear little sister wouldn’t be so careless.” he sighed as he looked at his twin.

Lumine blushed in embarrassment, “It was a time challenge.” she defended avoiding any eye contacts.

“You could’ve waited for me.” Aether rolled his eyes.

Childe watched in amusement as they began to bicker, his eyes staying far too long on Lumine. 

Their eyes met one another, causing them to flinch and look away. 

Lumine’s Rosé Seelie pushing her face to turn to him again.

“Hey!” Lumine’s face burned red as she quickly turned away again, glaring at her Seelie who just twirls around happily.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Aether who clenched his jaw in annoyance, not wanting to think about it, the male twin looked at the Dayflower Seelie, “A Dayflower, huh? It’s rare to find it with an owner. You saved it?” he asked.

“No, I adopted him about 2 years ago, been the best adventuring buddy, right, Little Comrade?” Childe grinned before initiating a fist bump, to which Little Comrade followed.

“That’s cute.” Lumine smiled.

Usually, Childe just smiles when people are impressed with his Seelie, but somehow the blonde was giving him a weird feeling in his stomach. He chalked it up as some injury from his hit earlier though.

“I just saved mine earlier and we’ve never got this much mora in a single day,” Aether said, smiling at the Curcuma Seelie, who jumped excitedly at the praise.

“Lumi’s was found a few days ago. We finished clearing a hilichurl camp when this one just started following her.” Aether explained.

The Rosé Seelie twirled as if to introduced itself before nuzzling on Lumine’s neck, “She’s been a delight so far,” Lumine giggled and Childe never thought giggles could sound so beautiful.

Aether rolled his eyes, “And we all know what Rosé Seelie means… Whoever bastard dare come close to my sister better have a ton of Curcuma Seelies because there’s no way in hell I’m giving her away that easily.”

Little Comrade who had been observing Childe and Lumine glowed a determine glow.

Challenge Accepted.

~~~

“How are you feeling?” Lumine looked at Childe with worry.

Childe looked like he was really in pain when they arrived in Liyue Harbor, the twins had immediately brought him somewhere to patch him up. Only to discover that something with a bit of cursed energy had stabbed him. Luckily for him, it was only a small sharp rock and it’s not a complicated process extracting the toxins from his body. It took them until night, but Childe is safe.

The bandaged man just smiled from the bed, “Eh, I’ll live, are you worried, ojou-chan?” he teased.

“I just feel bad, it’s my fault in the first place,” she mumbled before awkwardly taking a seat on the sofa placed in the room. 

It’s not like she isn’t comfortable with Childe, it’s just there’s something in him that also makes her feel suddenly self-conscious. She chalked it up as her guilt though.

“You shouldn’t be, but you should be careful when adventuring.” Childe just chuckled before reaching for the food that was set in front of him, an arm was bandaged, making it useless until it was fully healed, so Childe had to use one hand for a while.

Little Comrade perked up, he looked at Childe, Lumine, and the Rosé Seelie, who seemed to have the same thing in mind. 

The Seelie looked at each other for a minute before Little Comrade started taking Childe’s hand, “Hey, hey, calm down, buddy.” he said as his Seelie took over his palm, nuzzling in it needily as if seeking for comfort.

Childe had seen him act like this before, it was once where Childe was gravely in danger from a fight with a Cryo Abyss Mage and a Ruin Hunter during a rainy day. The Seelie was panicking at losing his partner, it refused to leave Childe’s side for a long while after that, even ignoring a few treasures when it sees in a shady area.

“Looks like he was really worried for you.” Lumine observed, “I’m really sorry the trouble, little one.” she sighed until she felt her own Seelie nudging her, “Huh?” she looked at it with confusion.

Using all its might, the Rosé Seelie pushed Lumine off the sofa and near the bed. 

“W-what…?” Lumine watched the Seelie then nudge her hand to a spoon on Childe’s plate.

Childe’s and Lumine’s face burned but for some reason, Lumine had grabbed hold of the spoon and letting the Seelie guide her hand gently to Childe’s mouth.

The Snezhnayan isn’t usually like this, he’s always staying unfazed even when he had walked into two treasure hoarders getting it on in one of the ruins a couple of runs ago. 

But this time feels so different, he’s lost at what he should do, and maybe, just maybe there’s something in him that seemed to love the attention he’s getting from the blonde girl.

Lumine is also not one for being easily flustered, after travelling worlds with her brother for so long, there’s just so little that will leave her speechless, but this is a new thing. She would never admit it to anyone, but Lumine had always been curious what a relationship would be like. She used to be in love with the thought of being in love, but after no luck for so many years, she just gave up and accepted that maybe love was just not something she’s blessed with outside of her familial relationship with her twin.

The twins have learned of the Seelies in Teyvat, so when Rosé Seelie started following her, Lumine can’t help but have those feelings started blossoming in her chest again, she’s used to disappointment though, so she tries to keep the feelings down, convincing herself not to expect anything out of it.

But why can’t she do that right now?

Childe opened his mouth, accepting the food and smiling at Lumine after swallowing, “Thanks, ojou-chan.” 

They don’t know how, but it’s as if the Rosé Seelie had shot them with cupid arrows, making them fall easily comfortable with each other.

They started talking and sharing stories, completely getting lost in getting to know each other.

Childe didn’t notice Little Comrade freeing his hand.

Lumine didn’t notice her Rosé Seelie had stopped guiding her hand.

Both didn’t notice a fuming brother peeking through the door.

~~~

Little Comrade watches as Childe excitedly scribbled words on a paper, it’s almost that time where they will go back to see their family. Childe had been busy buying gifts for his family for the past few days.

“Hey, you.” a pair of arms, gently wrapped themselves around Childe’s neck, “It’s getting late.” she hummed before brushing his hair up with her hand and kissing the side of his forehead.

Childe released a content sighed, leaning back to his lover’s arms, “I’m almost done, though I’ll have to drop this to Katheryn after.” he explained, shuffling a bit to pull Lumine on his lap.

Lumine chuckled making herself comfortable in his arms, before seeing the letter, “What are you writing about?” she teased as she poked Childe’s cheek.

“Hm, just talking about how wonderful my ojou-chan is.” he grinned widely when Lumine blushed.

“Very funny.” Lumine rolled her eyes with a huff.

“No, really, look, we can read it together,” Childe says as he held the paper up for them to read.

Lumine’s heart leapt in joy, she can’t help but bathe in that happy feeling as her lover shares something personal to her. As their relationship progress, Lumine started to feel comfortable with her feelings, letting them blossom without the fear of disappointment as her Ajax continues to prove himself as the best man for Lumine. Well, best man next to her twin, of course. No one will ever replace Aether in her heart.

Aether who had tried so hard to drive Childe away by sabotaging every move he tried on Lumine. She still remembered that night a few months ago where she had been feeding Childe. Aether straight away took her place as his nurse and had tried to choke him with a spoon as if it wasn’t enough that he’s the reason Childe’s there in the first place.

 “...instead of her falling on the ground, she fell for me instead…” Lumine read before giving Childe a look, “Really, Ajax?” 

“Little Comrade agreed it sounded cool.” he defended, “Right, buddy?” 

Little Comrade agreed before nuzzling himself against Lumine’s chest.

“Hey, hey, buddy, that’s my woman.” Childe playfully scolded, poking the Seelie gently.

“To be fair, I wouldn’t be your woman if it weren’t for him and Primrose.” Lumine teased.

She had finally named her Rosé Seelie. She and Childe thought about it together actually. Originally, Lumine wanted to call her “Love” corny, but simple. Childe protested that if Lumine’s going to call someone “Love”, it’ll only be him.

Upon hearing her name, Primrose appeared and sat on Childe’s head, “There you are, little one, are you excited to go to Snezhnaya?” 

Primrose did a happy twirl.

“Well, finish up your letter, yeah? I’m going to call Aether to see if he’s ready for Snezhnaya.” Lumine said before kissing Childe’s lips softly before looking for her phone with Primrose following.

Childe hummed happily before finishing his letter.

After sealing the letter in, he shouted to Lumine he’ll be out.

As he and his Little Comrade walked the quiet streets of Liyue, he turned to the Seelie.

“Thank you for bringing me the brightest treasure I could ever ask for, Little Comrade.” 

[broodygaming]

So next week I get to go pick my new puppy! I’m working with a local really good breeder. She’s a Great Pyrenees. They had 4 girls and 6 boys I think and I have first pick for girls. She’s not gonna be registered, the breeder has two female moms and ones registered and ones not. Idc about that I just want a good farm dog.

I’m still getting over my disappointment with myself that basically I’m not getting an old rescue dog. I’ve always adopted in the past. I found a good responsible breeder. But there’s a lot of GPs in shelters, it’s actually common for them to be surrendered cuz they bark and they’re mostly nocturnal. 

But! And here’s where I justify myself to feel less guilty... I have chickens and I live with my brother with his dog and I don’t really have a lot of fences. I have some fences with my goat pen and we have a small fenced in backyard type area. But genuinely, I don’t qualify for many rescues around here. Specifically the GP rescue for the whole PNW that snatched up every GP up for adoption has a Long list of requirements. Must have young dog they can play with (Wheezy is 10 and doesn’t qualify). Must have 6 foot fences (nope). Must have home inspection (my brother would never allow that) etc etc. I tried to apply with them twice and got a no back. So I literally can’t adopt a GP unless it’s from a private rehome or I leave WA and OR.

Idk what it’s like in other states, but tbh (from my limited perspective, I don’t want to discredit the hard work rescue workers do) there’s not many dogs in WA up for adoption. To the point a lot of dogs are shipped up here from Texas. One puppy on pet finder will get hundreds literally hundreds of applications. I spent almost an entire year trying to find a young dog who was a breed I could work with on my farm. Some dogs just won’t fit. Some dogs were too old and not socialized enough and I didn’t think I could train them to not kill my chickens. And Wheezy, my brothers dog, does just okay with other adult dogs. I had issues with that German Shepherd mix I got a while back from a private owner rehome. Never doing that again.

To be fair it was really bad during the height of the pandemic. It’s prob gotten better now. But I’ve stopped checking as much cuz I have a puppy lined up. It’s a bittersweet thing. I never thought I’d be buying from a breeder. But I need a good working dog who will really want to do her job. And that comes with good intentional breeding.

One day! I’ll own my own land and have better fences and I’d like to foster dogs eventually. But for right now I’m doing this and trying not to hate myself for it too much.

[theyearoftheking]

Book Eighty-One: Billy Summers

“Maybe a chilly story needs a chilly writing room, he thinks. It’s as good an explanation as any, since the whole process is a mystery to him, anyway.” 

Well hello there, Constant Readers! Have you missed me and my half-assed reviews of Steve books? 

Crickets. 

I know I’ve promised book reviews, television recaps... all the things. But I’m kind of busy living and enjoying life at the moment, without the need to take notes or screen grabs. That being said, I really did enjoy Billy Summers, and it took me almost a hundred pages to remember how this blogging thing worked. I was supposed to take notes? Dark Tower references? DePere, Wisconsin? Should I remember that for some reason? But don’t worry, it was like riding a bike. This blog is full of all the stuff you’ve come to know and love, as well as SPOILERS!!! So, if you have not finished the book yet, stop reading and come back once you’ve turned the last page.

SPOILERS!!! Consider yourselves adequately warned. 

Billy Summers doesn’t really include anything supernatural, and it’s more suspenseful and plot driven than some of Steve’s other books. In other words, it’s another great recommendation for people who don’t claim they don’t like Stephen King. 

Billy is an assassin who has mastered the art of “dumb like a fox”. 

He’s hired for a new assignment, but something seems off. Billy has been in the assassin game long enough to know when something is foul in the state of Denmark. He doesn’t trust the people who hired him, and he has the distinct impression he’s going to end up as the patsy in the end. But, he plays along as Dave Lockridge, single man and writer. He moves onto a charming street in Midwood (I kept reading this as Midworld... thanks, Steve), makes friends with all the neighbors, and beats all the neighborhood kids at Monopoly on the weekends. This part of the book was so tender, it reminded me a lot of Ted Brautigan and the kids from Hearts in Atlantis. Of all the things Billy later regrets, it’s letting these kids down, and having them trust him when he was obviously so untrustworthy. 

During the day, Billy writes  at his office in Gerald Tower. There’s always a tower, isn’t there? And this tower takes on more significance, because it’s the spot from which Billy is supposed to shoot Joel Allen. Joel is due to be transferred to Midwood, and marched up the steps of the courthouse just like in The Outsider. Constant Readers remember how well that worked out... 

Billy has an assassins creed: he only shoots bad guys. On the scale of bad guys, Joel Allen isn’t quite Ted Bundy, but he’s not Mr. Rodgers either. He had something of a “me too” moment when he accidentally mistook a feminist writer for a sex worker; and there was a gun fight outside of a poker game. It’s enough for Billy to work with. 

Billy is waiting for Joel to be transferred to the Midworld Midwood county lock-up; and he bides his time by actually doing some writing. He covers his tragic childhood (his mom worked in a laundry facility, just like Steve’s mom), and his time in the military. This is where Steve really shines. Billy’s book is written in a childish tone that just WORKS. It’s exactly what you’d expect from a simple-minded assassin. But still waters, friends. As the story goes on, Billy’s voice grows and improves. Well done, Steve, it’s like two books for the price of one.

In between writing, Billy assumes another fake identity (Dalton Smith), and secures a bolt hole to hide out in once his job is complete. Believe it or not, the murder of Joel Allen is such an insignificant part of the book. Billy successfully takes him out, and makes it to his bolt hole undetected. And this is really where the second part of the book starts. 

One rainy night, Billy hears random noises outside his apartment. He looks out the window in time to see a van full of guys dump a female body into a gutter. Billy should have just anonymously called the police... but if he had done that, we wouldn’t have a story. Instead, Billy goes full on Captain Save A Ho, and pulls the young woman from the gutter. It’s clear she had been drugged and assaulted, and she manages to puke all over Billy’s place. 

Neat. 

When Alice wakes up in the morning, she recognizes Billy from the police sketches, but promises not to rat him out for the Joel Allen murder. They form an unlikely friendship that includes watering the neighbor’s plants, watching Blacklist, and Alice reading Billy’s book. Basically, they were sheltering in place before that was even a thing; something Steve jokes about. Eventually, Billy knows he needs to get the rest of his money for the Joel Allen hit, and punish the guys who raped Alice. 

Y’all. I’m still having nightmares over the most creative use of a hand mixer I have ever read. I thought the can-opener in Lisey’s Story was bad... this was worse. But the kind of worse you feel good about, if that makes sense. 

After finding out the name of the guy behind the Joel Allen hit, killing a few bad dudes, and pissing off a bitch named Marge (fucking Marge if you’re nasty), Billy and Alice hunker down in Colorado with Billy’s assassin booking agent, Bucky. 

As soon as Billy and Alice entered Colorado and the town of Sidewinder was mentioned, I knew where we were headed. Yeah buddy, Overlook time! 

Billy takes to writing in a little shack behind Bucky’s house, and inside the shack is a Polaroid picture of the topiary animals at the Overlook. Every time Billy looks at the picture, the animals seem to have shifted. It gives him a cold sense of dread. 

There’s a certain parallel I picked up on in Colorado: Jack Torrance and Billy Summers are both haunted men running away from things. The Overlook was where Jack went to dry out, and work on his writing. He wanted to work on his marriage, and become a better father to Danny. We all know he failed spectacularly. Then, we’ve got Billy. Billy actually gets writing accomplished, and becomes an unlikely father-figure to Alice. Despite having just as much, if not more baggage than Jack, Billy doesn’t let it define him. He acknowledges it, and moves past it. It’s almost like Billy accomplishes what Jack couldn’t. And it took the Overlook burning to the ground for that to happen. 

While we’re on the topic of Billy and Alice, one of the things I love about Steve’s characters is he never forces romance where there doesn’t need to be any. While Billy acknowledges the age gap between him and Alice, nothing untoward ever happens between them. There’s obvious love, but never the romantic kind. Steve is one of the few contemporary writers to get this right. 

The story ends with Billy killing the guy behind Joel’s hit, getting shot by Marge as he leaves the crime scene (fucking Marge), Alice nursing him back to health, and getting him back to Colorado where they all live happily ever after.

I wish.

I wish I had stopped reading twenty-three pages before the book ended, because the actual end was more realistic, but heartbreaking. In reality, fucking Marge shot Billy in the stomach, and he died of an infection in the back of a Walmart parking lot. Fucking Marge indeed. But this was the way the book should have ended. Needed to end. Anything else would have been unrealistic. But damn, I hated to see Billy go out like that. 

There was one Wisconsin reference: after Billy kills Joel Allen, he’s supposed to be transferred to a safe house in De Pere. You know... where Steve lived when he was in a kid.

Other than Gerald Tower, we were also graced with “the world has moved on-” just to remind us that we all follow The Beam. 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 49

Total Dark Tower References: 78

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

Doctor Sleep: A+

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

11/22/63: A+

Mr. Mercedes: A+

Billy Summers: A+

End of Watch: A+

Under the Dome: A+

Needful Things: A+

On Writing: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Full Dark, No Stars: A+

The Outsider: A+

The Bazaar of Bad Dreams: A+

If It Bleeds: A+

Just After Sunset: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

Stephen King Goes to the Movies: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Finders Keepers: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

Duma Key: A-

Black House: A-

The Institute: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

The Dark Tower: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Blaze: B+

Hard Listening: B+

Revival: B+

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Joyland: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

Wolves of the Calla: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Song of Susannah: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Later: B+

From a Buick 8: B

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

Sleeping Beauties: B-

The Colorado Kid: B-

Storm of the Century: B-

Everything’s Eventual: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

The Wind Through the Keyhole: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Cell: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Faithful: D

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Lisey’s Story: D

Christine: D

Dreamcatcher: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers D

I’m not going to end this with any promises of upcoming posts. That way when I do randomly stumble on here one afternoon, it will be a delight for us all.

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights,

Rebecca

[endless-whump]

S/O: Purpose

@whumptober2020 day 4: Buried Alive!

CW: whumpee buried alive, suffocation, noncon drugging, pet whump, panic attack, implied self harm out of panic, extreme guilt tripping and self guilt/self deprecation, trafficking, kinda emeto?(dry heaving/nausea), claustrophobia, starving, conditioning, fucked up headspace about conditioning

Whumptober Masterpost

Simon/Oliver Masterpost

*slams fic on table* its here, bois, I told ya I’d get it done

-----

It was an exercise.  That's what they insisted.  Oliver was too tired to give much resistance as he was guided down into the box, eyes glazed over with exhaustion and the haze of drugs.  They ruffled his hair and handled him gently, muttering encouragement and praise that made him smile sleepily.  This was ok, they weren’t hurting him.  He was being good.

He wobbled and almost fell over as he was let go, his only support to stay upright suddenly gone.  He frowned in confusion, trying to push himself up before a hand pressed against his chest, keeping him down.

“You’ll be ok, trainee.”  A soothing voice reassured.  Hands touched his neck gently and Oliver tried his best not to flinch, more confusion piling on top of his dazed thoughts as he heard the distinct sound of the buckle unclipping, the leather slipping easily off his neck.

Not safe

“Sir-”  He tried grabbing at the handler weakly, knowing it wasn’t allowed but being so consumed by the fear of not being safe that he completely ignored it.  The collar meant he was safe, that he was cared for, that he was wanted.  Did they not want him?

Oliver didn’t have time to react as the lid slammed shut with a loud thud, leaving him completely alone in the dark.  He lifted a weak hand to push at the lid, brows furrowed in confusion at the sudden darkness.  It didn’t budge, so he tried pushing it harder.  Still nothing.  Even through his drugged state he could feel panic starting to rise in his chest, choking on a breath as he pushed against the top.

They weren’t supposed to hurt him, he was being good.  

I was good I was good I was good

Was I not good enough?

He pushed and pushed but he could barely put any strength into it, arms weak and shaking with the effort it took.  Tears filled his eyes and he choked on a sob, confusion making his head spin.

Do they not want me anymore?

Oliver flinched when there was a loud thud at the top of the box, like something hit it.  Dirt dusted down onto him, a weak cough racking his body at the sudden dust in the air.

The real terror only hit when he realized it was dirt, and it wasn't stopping.

“H,Hey...sir?”  His words were slurred, quiet and confused as the hard thuds to the top of the box kept coming, each one seeming to get quieter and quieter as time went by.  “Sir I.. I....what...”

He couldn’t breathe, whimpering in fear as clarity started to take hold of his mind.  The air smelled like old wood and dirt,

The drugs were wearing off, the shake they gave him was eaten hours ago.  His mind was becoming freer, freer to panic.  He scratched at the wood, eyes wide with desperation as it got quieter and quieter, the box seeming to get smaller and smaller around him.  He tried bringing his legs up, knees hitting the top of the box, and the wave of claustrophobia truly sunk in.

Oliver screamed.

He wasn’t sure why he did it, but the sudden rush of terror shook him to his core, his voice breaking.  Legs thrashed frantically in some attempt to move in the tiny space, the boy simply wanting to curl up but unable to even move his legs from their straightened out position.

What did I do wrong

----

“He’s...he’s what?”

The breeze was welcome on the hot summer day, trees surrounding them in the dense, wooded area just outside the facility, still within the gates.  This was training grounds, Simon recognized dully.  What he was more focused on, however, was the pile of dirt he was shoved in front of, a small black collar placed on top.

“You heard me, trainee.  You wanted to break the rules and sneak food for some romantic, this is the punishment.”

Simon stared wide eyed, alarmed, at the small mound of dirt he was shoved in front of, speechless.  His chest heaved with labored breaths, terror making his blood run cold.  He...they did this? He did this?

Simon fell to his knees in front of the mound of dirt, hands trembling.  This was on his hands, this guy's blood was on his hands.  This was his fault.  He barely even knew the kid, just that they were around the same age...and he looked so hungry.  The trainee was exhausted and starved, always appearing in the common areas with more bruises and more broken expressions.  He looked empty, and that was the worst part.

It had just been one meal, they were left alone and he just wanted to do something nice.  He knew how romantics were but this one was...different.  This one was being hurt.

This was his fault

Now he had...he had someone's death on his hands.  That trainee...he didn’t deserve that.  He was quiet and sweet and obedient-

Simon leaned over, dry heaving, palms pressed hard against the ground to keep him upright.  His arms shook, nausea taking over.  He felt sick.

Obedient?  That's what he thought of the other trainee?  Was that all they were reduced to, now?  That trainee was so, so empty but always so kind, sneaking his food to others even when he was starved and offering shreds of comfort to the hurting souls around them when he could.  He was worth describing with more than the disgusting idea of obedient.

“Well, aren’t you going to dig him up?”

Simon blinked, looking up at the handler in confusion.  Tears ran down his face, chest tight with agony at the idea he caused this.

“W,What?”  He asked hoarsely.  The hander just smiled, grabbing his chin almost gently to tilt his tearstained face up.

“He’s going to suffocate if you just leave him there, don’t you think?”

They wouldn’t

Simon tore his gaze from the handler.  He stared with a newfound horror in his eyes at that mound of dirt, feeling like all the air was pulled from his lungs.

They would, and he knew it

---

It was getting dark when Simon finally hit wood, arms seizing with agonizing pain at the hours spent frantically digging through dirt.  His shirt was soaked with sweat, throat sore from crying.  He brushed off the dirt frantically, close to hyperventilating with the sheer dread of what he’d find.

My fault

His fingers were bleeding but he didn’t care, prying open the wooden top with all the strength he could muster, shoving it out of the way.  The pale boy he caught sight of, shoved inside the box, shattered him.

I did this

God, he was so small it was hard to believe they were almost the same age.  He kneeled over the other trainee, chest heaving as he placed his shaking hands on either side of his head.  The trainee was still, curled up as much as he could with his face tucked against his arm, like he was trying to hide.  Simon slid a hand around the back of his neck, leaning down and pressing his ear close, desperate.  

He felt his heart shatter when he heard the tiny, shuddering intake of breath from the other trainee, relief crashing into him like a wave, enough to sweep him off his feet.  The other boy’s skin was warm, enough to reassure him that he was alive, that he was ok.  He wasn’t sure why, but the urge to hold him took over any reasonable thought, and Simon scooped the unconscious trainee into his arms.  The overwhelming urge to protect him was overwhelming, a guilt and need eating him up like nothing else the facility could do.

Simon lifted a shaky hand to hold his face, eyes darting over him to see if he was hurt.  There were scratch marks along his hands and arms, bleeding in some places.  There was one on his lip.

He didn’t even know the trainee, not really.  He didn’t know why he felt like he was dying at the idea of being torn apart.  This was simply what he needed in this hell of a place; he needed something to protect, a purpose where he before felt like he had none with his handlers but to hurt.  This..this he could protect.  This could be a purpose for him in a world where he didn’t even know his real name, or if he ever even had one.

“639, meet 423.  I think you two will get along quite well in the following stages of your training.”

----

taglist

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

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Please please please can we see Joanne reacting to the Chris saves himself au???

The Chris Saves Himself AU: One | Two | Three

CW: Whumper POV, abusive family member, ableist, ableism, pet whump universe

Jo's sitting at an outdoor cafe, sipping a hot cup of fresh coffee while the ocean beats against the Hawaiian sand. She's waiting on her breakfast and has a book open in front of her she has yet to read.

The sky and the water are nearly the same blue. It's dazzling. She can't take her eyes off it.

She's here for work, helping with getting a newly-opened WRU Facility off the ground. There have been protests, of course - Hawaiians have protested WRU making inroads pretty viciously, and Jo is glad for the secret employee entrance she uses so that the residents of this place don't know who she works for. Still, WRU is paying for the extended-stay hotel and three meals a day, and her nephew's inheritance pays for the drinks.

She cuts the thought before his face can enter her mind.

She dreams about him slumped over, mumbling about how tired he was, sometimes. Once the sedatives kicked in, anyway. She'd been irritated the first round didn't seem to work, and then worried she'd accidentally overdosed him after the second.

But no. No, the Acquisitions team had assured her he would be considered in perfect condition. And her finder's fee and bonus had really emphasized that he was.

Whatever. That problem is solved.

Joanne sighs, wistful. There are already people in the water, even at dawn. She can hear laughter filtering up from the beach.

It's beautiful.

Ronnie would have loved Hawaii. They had always planned to go together, before their falling-out.

Too bad her fucking husband and stupid brat dragged her down with them. Too bad the husband was a shitheel Irish mob asshole, too bad Ronnie's son was a piece of fucking work, too bad the stupid bastard couldn't stay hidden the one time it counted...

Joanne sniffs and wipes at the corner of her eye. Grief is hard - it comes and goes. But at least Tristan isn't her problem any longer.

He's probably happy as a clam doing someone's fucking gardening somewhere. Joanne simply refuses to admit that isn't at all what he is likely to be used for. It doesn't matter.

What she doesn't know, she isn't legally responsible for.

Lost in her thoughts, Joanne doesn't notice the uniformed officers who enter the cafe behind her. She takes a photo of the morning sun as an officer holds up a photocopied piece of paper to the server behind the counter. She posts the phot to her Instagram with #islandliving is the life for me! as the server points her direction and the officer nods and thanks them for their help.

She has missed calls and texts on her phone, but she'll check those later. Jo never looks at her phone before 8 am anymore. It makes everything much more peaceful.

She sees the first couple likes trickle in as the officer speaks to his partner and the two of them head her direction.

"Joanne Botham?"

She's startled out of her thoughts by the officer's voice and looks up to blink at the woman, her straight black hair in a low ponytail and expression stern. Jo feels an instinctive beat of apprehension. "Yes, that's me. Can I help you, officer?"

The officer has an odd look to her. Not hostile, but... not friendly. "Joanne Botham, resides at 435 Janus Way, in Berras, California? Employed by WRU?"

Her heart beats faster and Jo sets her phone down. Then picks up her coffee. "Yes. Is something wrong with my house?"

"No. Do you recognize this individual?"

The officer holds up another printed out photo and Jo's stomach falls to her knees and firmly lodges there. She drops her coffee, mug shattering on the floor, ceramics and liquid everywhere. The officer doesn't even flinch.

It's her fucking nephew.

It's Tristan in a hospital bed, looks like, staring at the camera with wide uncomprehending eyes. His hair is shorter than it used to be, and there is a ring of bruising around his neck, more bruises littered over his collarbone and shoulders.

She has a sudden wild urge to say she's never seen him before. Instead, she swallows and repeats the story she's practiced over and over until she's sure she can pass any lie detector test. "Yes. That's my late sister's son, Tristan. He ran away after their deaths. I thought he was dead."

The officer doesn't argue, just nods. "I see. Well, Ms. Botham, what would you say if I told you that your nephew is alive?"

Jo looks carefully, believably surprised. "He is? Where did you find him? I looked everywhere I could think of!"

"Did you?" The way the officer asks the question tells Jo there is a piece of the puzzle she hasn't seen yet... and it won't be something she likes. "Well, you'll be relieved to hear he was found alive."

"Yes... yes, I am. Relieved."

She's furious.

That little shit is going to ruin her life all over again, isn't he? She'll set his inheritance on fire before she lets him see a dollar. WRU was supposed to make it so she never saw him again.

She should have kept him locked in his room and left him there.

"I'll fly back home right away to see him," She says, a distant ringing filling her mind. "Where is he?"

"Your nephew is receiving medical care. Let's head down to the station. I'll fill you in on the details when we get there."

"Well-... Of course, officer, but I need to call my workplace-"

"We are already in contact with WRU, Ms. Botham. They are aware that you will not be in to work today. A WRU representative will be at the station."

Joanne takes in a breath and slowly lets it out. "I... I need a lawyer, don't I?"

"That's up to you, ma'am. All we want to do is talk. Please come with me." The officer steps back and gestures. Joanne stands, and the beauty of the day is suddenly lost on her entirely.

"Am I being charged with something?" Her voice is faint, suddenly. She swallows hard. "Am I being-"

"The only charged so far are laid against Governor Oliver Branch, ma'am."

"Against who?"

"Ma'am. Please come with me." There's a hand on her elbow and Joanne stumbles along. At the counter, the server is taping this, streaming it live. Jo glances up at the television over in the corner ceiling to see a news anchor talking about a WRU-branded human pet falling out of a balcony at the California governor's mansion and the resulting scandal.

Joanne thinks of all those missed calls on her phone.

"They're blaming me, aren't they?" She asks, coming to a sudden stop on the sidewalk outside. "They're blaming me! I'm going to be the fall guy, right?"

"Get in the car, Ms. Botham," The officer says firmly. One hand moves to her hip. "We can discuss this at the station."

Joanne sees the server with their phone out, following. The stupid little ass is smiling. They think this is funny.

It occurs to Jo they knew who she worked for all along.

She turns and with wild eyes yells, "WRU knew! I did nothing wrong! They knew!"

She's going to need one hell of a lawyer.

She's going to need a miracle.

She suddenly wishes she hadn't spent so much of Tristan's money. She could've used it for her legal fees.

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @what-a-whump @whumptywhumpdump @downriver914 @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @whumpfessional

[buckysnumberonegirl]

Flash forward- Finders Keepers

Part 7

Read parts 1-6here

Warnings: plot development, fluff, angst

Parings- past!Hugh Drysdale x Reader, Gabe Jones x reader

Hi hi everyone who's reading this, I know this series is a long one and I appreciate everyone being patient with me as time passes. I’m quite happy with this chapter

Word count 1.4K

You weren’t sure what time it was when you got to Base camp. Walking into the building you ran into Howard who told you how sorry he was for your loss. “I met James a few times, he was a good soldier and a great man” Howard patted you on the back, excusing himself.

Gabe and the other commandos were all sat together having a drink. He stood and walked over to you when he saw you enter their room “Y/N what are you doing here are you okay?” As soon as he said it he regretted the question.

“Of course you’re not okay I’m sorry for even asking, come sit down with us” he walked you over to the table where the rest of the men were, pulling you onto his lap. You put an arm around his neck as the men all talked about your cousin. You thought back to when you were children.

With little wooden guns you ran around your grandmother's backyard, on a top secret mission no one really knew the point of. Bucky took the lead as you crossed the log that fell across the creek. Running up into the woods the three of you giggled. You heard Bucky “ come on Steve you can’t slow down or we’ll get caught!”

‘Bucky he needs to breath’ you rubbed Steve’s back before he shot up “I can do this all day” he took off deeper into the woods. The three of you made your way into the old treehouse, hidden deep within the woods, a safe haven for you. You all sat on the floor pushing aside leaves and dust that had settled. Bucky gave you a wicked grin as he pulled out a pocket knife “ I read in a book once this thing called a blood pact, I think we should do one” he looked between you and Steve. “How do we do it?” Steve seemed nervous about the whole thing, he looked at you and you blushed. “Well we cut our finger and then we shake hands and say a saying or something that we’ll be together forever”

‘I like it let’s do it!’ You reached for the pocket knife making a small cut on both your index fingers, Bucky and Steve followed suit the three of you shook hands together giggling about what you were doing. “I know what our saying should be guys, I’m with you till the end of the line”

You and Steve repeated the phrase and you all agreed. You pulled a tiny first aid kit from out of your pocket handing everyone two little bandaids. You heard your grandmother calling, so the three of you scurried down the later before taking off. Bucky shouted like a war cry “the three of us! Till the end of the line!”

You looked down at your hands, they were folded in your lap. Holding out your two index fingers a tear fell as you saw the small white lines that matched up.

You wondered if Steve could see the same thing.

‘Gabe honey I should get going’ you kissed him before sitting up waving goodbye to the rest of the group. They met you with a chorus of goodbyes and condolences. “I’ll walk you home Y/N, it’s late.”

You didn’t argue, walking silently through London. When you got to your apartment game kissed you goodnight “are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” He looked into your eyes, and for a moment you felt the weight of the sadness you carried lift. ‘I’m sure, go home Gabe, I’ll come by in the morning’ you kissed his cheeks and smiled at him as he walked away.

You twist the knob to your apartment doorways to slide your key into the lock, but it pushes open.

You walk inside, an aching feeling washing over you along with a sense of dread. Something is wrong. You go to flip on a light when you see a dark figure sitting at your table. “You know Dove I’m hurt that you’d move on so fast”

The voice was dark but you knew ‘Hugh what are you doing here’

“Oh please, You were mine first” he spat on your floor. “How many night has he been here Y/N. I can’t believe I believe you when you said you wanted to wait until marriage. I hope he was worth it” you felt panic rise in your throat. You remember Peggy telling you there was a button installed under your kitchen counter, if you could get to it you would alert base camp that something was wrong. ‘Hugh I don’t know what your talking about, Gabes spent the night but we never’

Hugh shot up from the table, walking over you in less than 4 strides. “Don’t lie to me dove, it’s unbecoming of a woman” he walked into your kitchen, opening the cabinet he pulled out two wine glasses. You took this as your opportunity, walking into the kitchen with him and hitting the button while he reached into the fridge for a bottle of wine.

When you slid your finger off the button it made the tiniest click.

Hugh looked up at you and sighed, pouring the wine and handing you a glass “drink with me dove we don’t have long now until your friends get here��� he took a sip from his glass. “What did I just say, drink” his voice was angry. You took a sip, Hugh grabbed the bottom of the glass and tipped it up forcing you to finish it.

“You know my plan was to keep you here, my own little pet as the world fell into place. We captured your cousin to use him as motivation for you when you stepped out of line but of course your captain America saved him. Had I known that I would have picked a different location. You see little dove you never had any control over this. We needed you and your cousin to weaken the Captain. But you, you have exceeded my expectations by also getting one of the commandos to fall in love with you. The team will fall apart when you go missing” he stopped speaking, your head felt like it was full of water. You dropped the wine glass and felt Hugh grab you. “What a shame that your lover will get here to find you gone. But do not worry my little dove I don’t plan on killing you, just hiding you away until we get rid of some of our problems”

You passed out shortly after that. Hugh carried you to his car and watched the outside of your building with glee. Steve arrived first, running at an almost inhuman speed into the building. Followed by a car with Peggy and Howard. Peggy jumped out gun in hand and ran in only to come out seconds later Steve following her. In Steve’s hand was the note Hugh had placed.

Hydra is always one step ahead Captain Rogers. Give up now and the girl will remain safe.

You woke up in a cold room. Your clothes had been changed and you were alone. You had no idea how long it had been but you knew everything felt wrong. Hugh walked into the room, smiling. “Your captain is Dead my dear, gone from this world after his plane crashed.”

You screamed hitting Hugh in the chest with your fists until he grabbed you, pushing you against the wall of the room. “ Do not test me girl I am the only reason you are alive, anger me and they will kill you” a gunshot rang throughout the room. Hughs weight fell against you three men entered the room two of them lifting Hughs body and carrying him away. You looked at the trail of blood and felt tears stream down your face.

The man in the room offered you a tissue. “ I apologize my dear, he was a poor representation of what we are, although he is correct in that your Captain has been dealt with.” You looked at the red skull embroidered on his suit... Hydra. Another man entered the room looking at you. “What should we do with her sir”

The man who had given you a tissue gave you a smile “she knows too much I’m afraid, but she will be helpful in controlling the wolf…” he paused “put her on ice and bring her to Serbia we will use her if Soldat gets out of hand”.

You were grabbed and dragged down the hall. You screamed and begged to be let go but there was nothing. They restrained your wrists and placed you in a small glass cylinder, it was cold enough that the touch of the metal stung where it touched you. You felt it get colder and colder within a matter of seconds you could no longer move. Just before everything went dark you swore, that soldier looked just like Bucky. A thought crossed your mind as you felt the knives of ice press into you you smiled a faint almost peaceful smile, So this was the end of the line. Then, everything went black.

[whump-it]

Callum; Stinging Nettles

@haro-whumps @grizzlie70 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @iaminamoodymoodtoday @kawaiiloverofanimu @burtlederp @untilthepainstarts @my-whumpy-little-heart @moose-teeth @pepperonyscience @faewhump @saphemme @slaintetowhump @whump-tr0pes @spookyboywhump @finder-of-rings @liliability

CW’s for this.  Callum is in pain.  A lot of pain.  Master Hayden is, of course, full creepy and punishes him for getting cooking wrong when he had expressly told him that he wasn’t allowed to taste the food to check it’s ok.  Callum is trapped in a situation that he can not possibly win in.  There is stinging nettles being used to whump, restraints, stress position, and burns.

He knew that something was wrong the second that he heard his Master's chair scrape across the floor away from the table not more than five minutes after he'd first sat down.

Callum had been told that dinner that evening would be lamb, roasted and with fresh vegetables along with mint sauce that he should make with mint picked from the garden. He had really taken his time with it all, basting the meat as it roasted slowly for hours, turning the vegetables to look like they did in the pictures that Master Hayden had printed out for him and stuck to the cupboards in the kitchen. The smells had teased him for hours and hours and when his mouth watered and his stomach rumbled and he could bear it no longer, he had shuffled out of the kitchen and into the garden for the mint. As he had finely chopped it and mixed it with the sugar and vinegar and boiled water, he had the faintest notion that something seemed different somehow but he wasn't allowed to taste it. But he had followed the recipe perfectly. It was bound to be fine because it always had been in the past.

He had taken it through on time and he had been certain to use his manners. To thank Master Hayden for allowing him to cook. For letting him have his hands cuffed in front. For being an upstairs pet and not a basement wretch.

He had said thank you when Master Hayden had unclipped his cuffs to draw his hands behind his back again where they were restrained as they usually were. He had even whispered an unheard thank you when he had gone back to the kitchen to stand in the middle after being told to get out of the dining room.

So when he heard the scrape of the chair, the slap of the napkin being thrown down on to the table, the clatter of cutlery, he flinched. His heart beat faster and thudded uncomfortably behind his ribs. When he looked down, he could see the fluttering rise and fall of it behind his too-thin chest. His breathing picked up when Master Hayden rounded the corner to the kitchen, coming to stand behind him. Close.

Callum could feel Master Hayden's hand grasping the links between his wrist cuffs tightly. Firmly. His Master's hand was shaking with what Callum knew must be rage. He didn't know what he'd done. But he had enraged his Master. His other hand reached around Callum's front quickly, up to his throat to hold firmly. Tight. Callum gasped and felt his breath narrow down to a thin whine.

"Kneel,"

He went with the pull and the motion of his Master dragging him down by the wrists and by the throat. Pulling him roughly to his knees which hit the floor with a crunch.  He didn’t dare say anything, even as his throat was released and he could suck in enough air to satisfy his lungs.  He didn’t even risk using his manners or saying his words.  

“What are you?”  Master Hayden demanded from somewhere behind him.  Callum could hear a drawer opening and the shifting around of whatever was in it.  From the sounds of it, it was the one that contained the things that didn’t fit anywhere else.  Gardening things.  Light bulbs. 

“I’m a pet, Master Hayden,” he said quietly.

He let his head droop, pulled down by the weight of hs Master’s dissapointment and rage.  Something had gone wrong and he didn’t know how to find his way from the shame to the perfection.  Something needed to be atoned for.  Something that he had done.  He tripped his thoughts over one another, flinching away from them as they bounced against one another.  They fluttered and departed and he couldn’t pin them down.  

He jumped when Master Hayden suddenly swept around in front of him and crouched down to his level, slapping him hard with the heel of his hand on his right temple.  He yelped at the blow, his head ringing and his vision shifting a little from side to side until it swung itself back into focus just in time to see his Master lean in and grab the hair at the back of his head.  Shaking his head.  Rattling his mind.  Tears welled up and spilled over and down his cheeks before Callum could even try to stop them, gasping breaths in and shaking.

“Try again,” Master Hayden hissed, shaking his head again then holding him firm in his grip while he waited for the answer. 

“I’m a wretch Master Hayden and I’m so sorry I’m so sorry for what...I’m sorry for...” Callum’s chest heaved up and down and his panic rose as he shivered and shook and panted on his knees in front of his Master.

“You’re sorry you’re sorry, you’re always so very sorry,” Master Hayden said, his voice getting louder as he spoke until he was shouting.  Callum tried to shrink away from his rage but he was held in the grip of his hand.  “You’ll be very fucking sorry by the time I’m done with you tonight.”  Callum yelled out wordlessly as he was shoved to the floor, tears running freely down his cheeks.  Swearing was bad.  Swearing never happened because his Master never got that angry with him.  He didn’t know what he had done and he didn't know how to make it better.

“Kneel,” Master Hayden shouted.  “I told you to kneel!  Are you too fucking stupid to manage that?  Knees you stupid slow idiot!”  Callum hurried to struggle himself up to his knees as quickly as he could manage, apologising as he did so, hoping that now that he had started to say sorry, maybe it would be best to continue. He kept his head down and muttered soft sorry's over and over. He kept on muttering them even when he heard Master Hayden pick something out of the drawer and slam his way out through the back door. Left alone with his panic, he let it rise up. Cold and creeping up his spine, monster fingers curling their terror across his shoulders, pricking up the hair on the back of his neck. There was no way for him to keep it down at heel now that it had started to wrap itself around him.  Master Hayden was rarely this cross.  This angry. 

This enraged.

He was still stuttering over his whispered sorry’s, still shaking and shuddering on his knees when Master Hayden slammed the door open then repeated the action to close it again, making him jump and flinch when he was trying so hard not to.  He braced for a strike or a kick.  For something.  Anything. 

Instead, when he dared to raise his head just enough to allow him to see what his Master was doing, he was met by the sight of Master Hayden opening the oven to take out a baking tray with one hand, while in his other which was covered with a thick gardening glove, was a bunch of what he recognised as stinging nettles.  He swallowed to stop the whimper that wanted to rise up and break in his throat.  He knew that whatever was going to happen, it was going to be sharp and long lasting.  He knew that the nettles would hurt him. But a baking tray, he couldn't fathom. Couldn't even begin to try.

His thoughts were interrupted by his Master kneeling in front of him.

"You know what these are hmm? Stupid?" Master Hayden inclined his head towards the nettles in his gloved hand.

"Stinging nettles, Master Hayden," Callum whispered. He trembled in front of them. Nature, so innocent, so wild and free and beautiful. And turned against him for his mistake.

"Someone got clever," Master Hayden taunted, slapping Callum slowly once, twice, a third time across his cheek. Not hard. A mockery. "You don't move until I get back. Stay on your knees my little wretch. Because that's what you are right now. Hmm? Not a pet. Not a dog. Just my wretch again."

Callum nodded and whispered out another sorry. Another apology that his Master wouldn't have heard, already having stalked out of the kitchen, baking tray and nettles along with him. Deeper into the house Callum heard the familiar fabric and clinking sound that meant that Master Hayden had picked up his tool bag. The contents changed. Callum knew that. He knew that they changed depending on what atonement he had to carry out. Hearing it meant nothing other than imminent pain of an unknown kind. He heard the bolt on his basement door thud harshly back. He heard Master Hayden stamp down the stairs. He tried to push his hearing out and down to the basement, didn't dare sniff, didn't dare breathe too loud. He kept himself as quiet as possible to try to hear what was happening.

Forewarned is forearmed? Maybe. Better the devil you know? He had unformed opinions on both. Either way it was going to hurt but something in him needed to try to figure it out. To take the element of surprise away from his Master. It might be the only tiny piece of control that was left to him.

He jumped and gasped out loud, a sound that trailed itself into a whimper. A sob. Master Hayden was hammering. That was new. That was different. That was totally devoid of any basis for Callum to try to figure out what was going to happen and the fear of the unknown was sudden and biting and choking. His mind raced through the list of injuries and atonements that could make up for them but he couldn't settle on anything. He stated to shake, the metal of the links on his wrist cuffs tinging off against one another. The small noise clanged and rattled in his head, amplified by fear and by the blow that he'd recieved earlier. He whined and bowed forward, pushing his wrists to the small of his back to stop the noise, desperate to pull a hand up to rub at his head. Aching to touch where it had been hurt again and again and again.

As he rocked himself forward and listened to the sound of his own throat bringing up noises like a kicked puppy, he suddenly realised that the hammering had stopped. That moment of silence struck him, when the brain catches up with reality.

He sat up straight.

Alert.

Breathed silently again.

Despite his best efforts, he failed to stop the twitch of a flinch as his body betrayeed him upon seeing his Master come back into the kitchen.  He kept his head down and whispered another sorry.  If he could have wished for anything it would be to try to cook dinner again.  Rewind so that whatever he had done wrong, he could do right.  So that whatever pain was coming his way could be headed off at the pass.

“Time for you to get back in your basement and learn your lesson little wretch,” Master Hayden said, as he nudged at Callum’s side with the tip of his shoe.  He reached down and grabbed hold of Callum’s hair to pull him up, a motion that tipped Callum forward then up quickly, quicker than he had been ready to go, stumbling and tripping as he stood.

“I’m sorry Master Hayden,” Callum gasped out, the words just barely catching at the edge of his voice.  “I don’t know what...umm...what I I I...what I did.”  He pitched forward towards the kitchen door, propelled by a swift shhove on the flat of his scarred back.  He tumbled into walking gracelssly, not needing to be told to go in the direction of his basement door.

“That’s because I haven’t told you yet isn’t it, you stupid idiot,” he heard his Master’s reply from behind, but didn’t dare stop or turn around.  He dipped his head further, as far as he could make it go with his green collar locked in place around his throat.  More than anything, he wanted to keep the collar on.  He strained for the sound of keys jingling, strained to hear if he was going to be left bare of the only thing that marked him out as useful.  As something more than just a bsement wretch.  He didn’t want it to be taken away from him,  If it was taken away then he had no certainty that he would be let back out of the basement again.  It would mean that he was no longer useful.  Nothing more than just an vessel for atonement.  And now he knew that he could be that and more.  He knew that it was possible to have the best of both worlds.  He wasn’t ready to lose it.  But he knew that not hearing a key wasn’t the same as one not being there.  He tried not to stumble as he walked.  Tried to go calmly.  If he just knew what his big mistake had been then he thought that maybe, just maybe, he would feel a little calmer.  He went down the steps to his basement without hesitating at the top, for fear that doing so would make Master Hayden even more angry with him.

When he reached the bottom he could see very little that had changed, which was more unnerving than if everything had been different.  Because if everything was the same, then what had all the hammering been for.  Something had to have happened.  Callum shook where he stood, feeling sweat breaking out across his forehead.  Games.  Always games.  Always something to tie him up in a net of confusion.

“Dumb struck?” Master Hayden said, and Callum could hear the sneer on the edge of the words even though his Master was stood behind him, holding on to his shoulders, pinching down just a little harder than was comfortable.  “Can’t say I’m suprised.  You’re one of the dumbest idiots I’ve ever met.  If you didn’t look so perfect you’d have reached the end of your list a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry Master Hayden,” Callum said quietly, nervously.  “If umm...I could...I could...I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“Again,”

“Umm...I’m sorry for dis...”

“No you stupid idiot,” Master Hayden said, smacking him hard across the back of his head.  “I mean that you’ve disappointed me again.  Not say your same stupid sentences over and over at me.”

“Umm...”

“Stand on your step,” Master Hayden.  “And before you start umming and being particularly stupid, yes I have made some necessary adjustments to it for today.  In fact, today you won’t even be wearing your muzzle.”

“Thank you Master Hayden,” Callum said.  Not wearing his muzzle sounded wonderful to him.   No drooling.  No embarrasing noises muffled and huffed out around the bit that sat between his teeth. He stepped up carefully, unsure if the modified step would hold his weight. He hated falling, tripping, being pushed while his hands were bound behind his back. Which they always were. Tentatively he put one foot up, just the toes, the pressed his weight down to get his other foot up.

It held. His modified step held. It bore his weight. Where before it had stood on its four short wooden legs, now it tested upside down. And instead of the wooden top that he usually stood on, now he stood on the baking tray that had been hammered with a nail into each upturned leg. It was cold on his bare feet. One in each corner. He ground his teeth and chewed the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet while Master Hayden stood behind him to unclip his wrist cuffs from another.

"Hands in front," Callum obeyed immediately, holding them up and out slightly, knowing that his Master would clip them together that way. He knew that he was beneath the hook in the ceiling. He knew that he'd be stretched up over it, his wrist cuffs hooked over it. He knew it would hurt his shoulders, his back. His chest. His arms and his wrists.

"Up you go," Master Hayden said, standing beneath him to hell push him up as he extended his arms straight up above his head. With an extra little shove from his Master, the link between his wrists caught over the hook and held him there, stretched out just enough that his heels no longer touched his step. He started to breathe more deeply. He didn't want to. It never helped, not in this position. It made it harder, tighter, more uncomfortable. But his body to over from what his brain told him.

And how could he trust his brain anyway? When he was slow and stupid. When he couldn't even cook a dinner properly.

"Got this for you so open wide," Callum opened his mouth on command before his brain caught up.

"Master? Umm... Master? O...open? Umm...mu... muzzle?"

"For the love of," Master Hayden sighed and cut himself off. "Didn't I just tell you that you weren't going to be wearing your muzzle today? And you're not. Because I've got other plans for that mouth of yours. But I'm wishing that I didn't, not with the amount of stupid coming out of you right now."

Callum stood as still as he could and kept his mouth open, trying to swallow and not make a noise doing so. He could see his Master bending down to the tool bag that was on the floor next to his upgraded step. He heard a jingle and felt a jolt of ice cold terror run up his spine that he might be about to lose his collar. He couldn't stop the pathetic little whine that tripped over itself deep down in his throat and stalled when his Master grabbed him around the neck, just above his collar.

"Do you remember your first day here? When you couldn't keep that mouth of yours shut? All that cursing and shouting. At least we've trained that out of you." Master Hayden stroked his thumb up Callum's throat, over the collar and up higher. His chin. His bottom lip. Snagging just under his top teeth. The jingling noise seemed louder. His breathing sounded louder. Something tapped against his teeth and his Master's hands wrapped further around his neck.

To the back of his head.

Not a muzzle. He wasn't going to be wearing his muzzle.

He tried to swallow again, but the minute movement of his jaw that accompanied the motion was entirely halted by something. Something hard. He heard the self-satisfied huff of a laugh that his Master snorted out at his confusion.

"It's your ring gag my silly, confused little wretch," Master Hayden said, gripping Callum's chin to shake his head back and for. "I need your mouth open and I do not need you talking. Exactly like that first day. And it worked so well then that I thought it was time to bring it back.  I’ll decide how long you have to wear it for as we go along I think.”  As his Master stepped back away from him, he knew that the only reason the he wasn’t trembling was because he was stretched up too far to allow it to happen.

“So,” Master Hayden said, bringing Callum’s attention back from his already aching jaw.  “This evening’s dinner was meant to be a lamb roast, yes?”  Callum nodded and managed to release a sound that was as close to ‘yes Master Hayden’ as he could manage.  He felt the first run of drool tip over his bottom lip as he nodded, felt the flush of shame that went with it as it dropped.  “And yet, despite the hours of cooking and the amount of times that you’ve made it before, this evening I could only manage one mouthful.  Do you know why that is?”

Callum shook his head.

Dribbled a bit more.

Felt small and stupid and ashamed of himself.

“Chocolate mint,” Master Hayden stated.  “There’s chocolate mint in the garden and that’s what you decided to cover my food in.  The food that I work hard to pay for.”  Callum felt a little spasm twitch down his arms.  He tried to swallow his spit.  He tried to garble out an apology.  “I didn’t particularly enjoy putting that in my mouth, and especially not when I take the time to feed you fruits and vegetables that you don’t even have to worry about cutting up or peeling or anything.”

He watched Master Hayden bend down and pull the gloves back on.  He tried to control his breathing and concentrate on that as opposed to he crawling realisation tracking up his spine that his mouth was jacked open.  That if something had gone in Master Hayden’s mouth that had been unpleasant, something must be about to go in his.  On instinct, his jaws tried to close, tried to meet his teeth in a clench that achieved nothing but pain and failure, and a gasped out groan. 

When Master Hayden stood up again, he was holding the netttles in his gloved hand.  He reached them out, let them brush against the side of Callum’s cheek.  Callum’s head jerked away from the feeling, more spit drooled over his lip, a sob following along behind it, falling weak and pathetic from his mouth.  His cheek stung hotly in the wake of the nettles trail down it.  His hands tried to pull uselessly down to rub and scratch.  He shook his head back and for to try to ease the feeling to no avail.  Another sweep of nettle across his other cheek left more sharp fire, more itching and pain and discomfort that he couldn’t deal with.  Couldn’t try to alleviate.  Couldn’t help.

“Tongue out,” Master Hayden said.  Callum willed himself to obey, to go against every bodily instinct that was screaming at him to keep his tongue in his mouth.  He knew that it could be made so much worse for him if he didn’t do as he was told.  Tentatively, he pushed the tip of his tongue past the metal of the gag, pushed and pushed until he managed to get it out.  “Disgusting,” Master Hayden said stooping to get an old rag out of his tool bag, which he used to swipe away the drool from Callum’s tongue.  “Can’t have all this spit diluting my nettles.  Not when one of us at least manages to do things right around here.”  The rag was dropped to the floor and the nettles raised again.  Callum looked up, panting and breathing hard.  He could feel a line of sweat tracing down his back between his shoulder blades.  He could feel more along his hairline, starting to gather on his forehead.  He made eye contact with his Master who sneered at him and shook his head slowly back and for.  At that moment, at the point at which his attention had been stolen, the nettles touched his tongue far in, deeply back and were dragged slowly to the front, past the gag and back in to repeat the motion.  Over and over until Callum finally howled out in desperation and pain.  Until he screamed and whimered and cried around his incoherent begging.  Until his mingled screeches and groans drowned out Master Hayden’s laughter.

If only his tongue would go numb from all the abuse. If only he could shut his mouth. He wanted so much to shut his mouth. His crying grew even more noisy and messy when he felt his Master reach around behind his head to unbuckle the gag. His relief was so great. So unexpected. So overwhelming.

It stopped him noticing that the nettles were being shoved into his mouth until he heard the tearing sound of a roll of tape. Without missing a beat Master Hayden used the heel of his hand to shove up under Callum's chin, to hold his jaw closed while he slapped the piece of heavy and thick tape across his lips.

"Go on then," Master Hayden said, stepping back, pulling off his gloves as he did so. He dropped them into the open tool bag then crossed his arms. "Your turn to eat something you'd rather not."

Callum moaned through the tape and shook his head, the ache in his wrists and arms becoming close to unbearable. His face was wet with tears, constantly running down his cheeks. His lips were sealed but he tried to keep his teeth apart behind them. To give the nettles room. To try to keep them away from the tender skin of the inside of his mouth, as battered and burning as it already was.

"Eat it," Master Hayden said. Low. Quiet. "Eat it. EAT IT!" Callum jumped at the sudden yell, twinging the muscles of his arms even more. His brain actioned the response that his body had been dreading and he chewed. He chewed and heaved in through his almost blocked nostrils, clogged from his crying. He chewed and swallowed and blasted air out of nose to try to clear his airway. He felt so slow and so stupid and so so so ashamed for thinking that not wearing a muzzle meant that he wouldn't have to be embarrassed.

He wanted to use his words, to give them to his Master as his proof that he knew better now. He wanted to be cleaned and made perfect and he wanted to be allowed to rest his head on his Master's lap. He wanted to be told that he could be unashamed now. He wanted his mouth and his face and his jaw to stop burning, his arms to stop aching and tingling.

Master Hayden was rifling through the bag again and Callum strained through his pain and tears and his muddled mind to see what he was holding. A tiny flicker of light at his Master's fingertips caught his attention and his body reacted before his brain registered fire as a danger. He squirmed and pulled on his wrists, grazing and bruising them. He screamed through the tape, his face plastered with snot and sweat, tears and drool. He pulled and twisted until his wrists started to bleed.

"Such a lot of fuss," Master Hayden said, tutting at him as he reached up to pat Callum's cheek roughly across the raised and red welts left by the nettles. "Calm down little wretch. I'm only lighting a candle."  The tiny light jumped up into life again, then transferred itself to a small candle in Master Hayden's other hand. Callum twisted slightly as his body twitched, still breathing heavily to try to keep his airflow going, still trying to keep an eye on what his Master was doing.  The candle flickered where Master Hayden had set it on the floor next to the toolbag.

“Just one more thing,” he said, searching through the bag again and coming back up with Callum’s long white blindfold in his hand.  He stepped behind Callum, who shuddered at the feeling of his Master so close but so out of sight.  Callum had always hated anything that deprived him of his senses.  The blindfold was raised up over his eyes and tightly bound at the back of his head, the knot pressing unomfortably into his scalp. 

More pain.

More discomfort.

Something else to pull at his already overstretched attention.   

“There,” Callum recognised that his Master had spoken from down by his feet.  He turned his head pointlessly, the reaction an involuntary response, an attempt to see where the sound had come from despite being deprived of his sight.  “I’ll leave you with that you stupid little wretch, and go blend up your dinner.  You get to have my dinner tonight.  Aren’t you lucky?”

Callum nodded miserably, every muscle now pulling against his stretched up position.  He shifted his feet a little, the chain between them clinking quietly, as he tried to get comfortable.  The baking tray was starting to feel warm where he stood.

“I imagine that the candle will probably be almost burnt down to nothing in twenty minutes or so.  Give or take.  It’s only a small one.”  Callum frowned and shifted a bit more, lifting one foot slightly and then the other as he recongised that Master Hayden was speaking from further away, from where he thought the stairs were.  The door to his basement shut, the noise thudding through his head, a sharp interruption to his concentration on his wrists and his arms, his neck and his breathing.  His tears.  His burning face.  His burning mouth.

His feet.  His increasingly hot feet. 

His burning feet.

He could only stand on one foot for a short amount of time before he swithced to the other one.  He did this over and over, time and time again with less and less relief gained each time he swapped.  He started to take the strain on his torn up and bleeding wrists but it was too much to bear, too much and too quick.  They couldn’t support his full weight for nearly long enough, not after having spent so long stretch up above him. 

He knew.  He knew that the candle was beneath the baking tray.   He had knowledge but none of the accompanying power.  None emotionally, none physically.  None.  He sagged and moaned behind the tape across his mouth, weakly lifting one foot after another. 

Over and over.

Over and over.

When Master Hayden returned, Callum barey registered being taken down from the hook. 

All he could process was pain, and the faint smell of chocolate from the bowl of blended up food nest to his head where he lay on the floor.