#Twelve Days of Whumpmas

[joemerl]

Winter Whumperland, Day 5: Frosty The Snowman Turned into Decoration | Trapped In A Blizzard | Self-sacrifice | Comfort: Warm Kisses

Summary: The night that they return home, Wirt and Greg each deal with some lingering issues. Now a two-shot. In this chapter, Greg doesn't talk to people who could hear him.

Word count: 1,071

@amonthofwhump

[amonthofwhump]

Heyy are u hosting whumpmas and if u are how do i perticipate

We are! Prompts are coming out November 14th, this Wednesday! We're so excited for you and everyone to see what we've cooked up for y'all this year!

[boowhumps]

12 Days of Whumpmas

※ Day V | Obsessive Whumper ※

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

※ TW ※

- Swearing

- Mentions of Obsession

- Mentions of Stalking

- Mentions of Death

Enjoy!

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

The air had a crisp of coldness to it, something normal in Celestial.

Little snowflakes fell from an endless dark sky as Amne rested against the balcony.

Suddenly, she felt an eerie and freezing feeling pass through her, stopping just behind her.

She sighs, feeling the familiarity of this presence.

"I didn't think you would come." She mumbles, not sparing a glance.

N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ hums. "..you called, I came, simple as that, Amnesia.." It stops. "What is the reason you called for me, Dear.?"

"I have a question." Amne says.

"𝘈𝘴𝘬, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳." ️N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ replies.

"Tell me again.." Amne mumbles. "..why was I picked.?"

️N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ sighs. "𝘞𝘦'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘈𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘢.. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥.."

Amne frowns. "..but how were you so sure I was the one.?"

️N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ hums. "..𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵.. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘵.. 𝘸𝘦'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘴.."

Amne raises an eyebrow. "You and..?"

"..𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘭.." ️N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ says.

"..Silva.?"

"𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦.?"

"..why watch me.?"

"𝘛𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.. 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘚𝘦𝘭𝘺𝘯𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.."

"She didn't choose me." Amne states. "She picked Karyme, the little girl, not me."

"𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴.. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.." ️N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ explains. "𝘔𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘥.. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶.."

"..seems like her.." Amne sighs. "..does that mean she saw-"

"𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥. 𝘔𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 ���𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.. 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥.." ️N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ mumbles.

"..and she saw.. who did it.?" Amne asks.

"𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥." ️N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ says.

"Does Karyme know.?" Amne asks.

️N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ shakes its head. "𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵."

Amne takes a deep breath. "So what, you and Silva stalked a child over some God looking out for her?"

️N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ frowns. "𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵."

"Then why?" Amne asks, annoyed.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥." It says. "..𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘺.."

"Why.?" Amne asks. "What the hell are you talking about.?"

"𝘚𝘦𝘭𝘺𝘮𝘢 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶." It tells her. "𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘵."

"Benefit?" Amne huffs. "I doubt I'm any kind of benefit."

️N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ laughs. "𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘵, 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘈𝘮𝘯𝘦.." It hums in delight. "For keeping you safe and.. alive, she gains the respect of [CENSORED]."

Amne frowns. "Didn't think he was that important.."

"He isn't, but he is powerful." N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ says. "..and he isn't afraid to use his abilities to his own benefit."

"Seems like all these people really care about is benefits, huh?" Amne mumbles almost in an annoyed tone.

"I would say you do too." N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ replies. "Seems like it runs in the family.."

Amne huffs. "Quit that, it's not true and we both know it."

N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ sighs. "Alrighty.. but I sense an impending feeling in you.." It comes a bit closer. "..your curiosity is rising.. what is the reason for that.?"

"..who killed [CENSORED]..?" She asks slowly. "..I want to know.. for Karyme's sake.."

N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ frowns. "That's dangerous.. you know.?" It crosses its arms. "If Karyme is conscious enough to hear this, she can take over.." She comes even closer. "You know how unstable she is.."

"Or it'll give her closure.." Amne suggests. "..and then we won't fight over control anymore.."

N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ sighs. "Fine then.. but anything that happens is on your conscious."

It frowns again. "..𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳.. 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴.."

Amne crosses her arms, waiting.

"..a man.." N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ mumbles. "..dressed in all black.. tan skin.. dark hair and eyes.. a symbol of a moth on his sleeve..-"

Amne stops, her eyes widening. "..what symbol..?"

"A moth." It repeats.

Amne closes her eyes suddenly, traveling through her own consciousness. She arrives at her destination, face to face with a very distraught girl.

"Karyme-" Amne starts.

"..a moth.." She mumbles. "..a moth.."

Amne sighs. "We can't keep doing this, I can't keep protecting you-"

"It was her.." Karyme keeps mumbling. "..her brother.. she killed her own brother.."

Amne turns away. "..and you too.. right.?"

Karyme doesn't respond, her eyes locked on the floor in front of her.

Amne takes a deep breath. "..I have to go back.. don't do anything stupid.." She relaxes her body, feeling herself coming back to reality.

N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ is still there, tilting its head as Amne comes back.

"She didn't take that well, I presume.?" It asks.

"..what do you think.?" Amne grumbles.

"I did try to warn you." N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ reminds her. "You're just too damn stubborn.."

Amne huffs. "Yeah yeah.. I have to go." She says.

N̴̟̬̠̣͍̹̜̠̘̮͎̥̜̳̖̋͋͛̆́̂̀̅̓̕ͅͅO̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅB̴̢̠̋̊͑̈̾̑̊͒͗̽O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅD̸̢̮̫̰̥̗̘̱͉͙͙̺̫̏͒̅̌Ỵ̷̡̛̟̱̑̍̀̉̿̿̉ nods. "I'll see you soon, Amnesia." It says before disappearing.

Amne stands silent for a few seconds before taking a deep breath.

"..motherfucker.." She mumbles under her breath as she leaves the balcony, the snow falling slowly even long after she's gone.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

[whumpsday]

Pin and Needle

Whump writing masterlist | G/t writing tag

g/t sideblog here! @smallsday

content: g/t, whump, tiny whump, borrowers, animal attack, caretaking, needles/stitches, hurt/comfort, fear, past child neglect, probable medical inaccuracies, found family

Whumpmas in July Day 3: Stitches & Bandages GT July Day 3: Impulsive Two Weeks of Whump Day 2: Needles

of my 10 Whumpmas in July entries, 3 of them will be combos with GT July! here's the first of those! i will never get tired of writing borrower whump. i should write a borrower whump series someday. for any non-g/t people unfamiliar, borrowers are a species of tiny people who secretly live in humans' houses, like fairies without wings. if you've ever seen anything labeled "tiny whump", this is that.

-

Pin had been a dad for five years now, and he liked to think he was getting pretty good at it.

The kid was already seven and self-sufficient enough to not die on her own for who knows how long when he found her, so he didn't have to deal with any of that baby crap. Now she was twelve, and she was better at some stuff than he was.

Pin decided to go borrowing while the kid slept in today, with the human off at school. It was perfect, because then he could take his time looking for a surprise. Today was the five-year anniversary, and he wanted to make it special. There was a lot he'd missed in Chime's life, and from what the kid had said about her old parents, they weren't exactly in the habit of celebrating her.

He had to make it special.

Pin had already gathered all the food and supplies he needed to grab, so all that was left was the present. He'd been looking around every time he went out, but he couldn't see anything. The human lived by himself- mostly, aside from that damn cat he'd brought home last month- and was a starkly healthy eater. Not a lot of little bits and bobs he could use to make toys for her, either.

It had been easier to get treats for the kid with the family who used to live in the apartment, who always kept sweets around, but food was food. It was better for the kid this way in the long run, anyway. But he really wished he could get her a treat, just this once.

He didn't really go into the human's room. He was of the opinion that a man needed his privacy, and food was supposed to be kept in the kitchen, so why would he need to? Most of all, the cat liked to hang out in there, and that was a risk he didn't need to take. Apparently the human was just watching it for a friend, which was the only reason he hadn't taken the kid and moved. But maybe the guy was hiding some snacks in there. From all the studying he seemed to do in there, it was likely, right?

Just this once.

Pin approached the bedroom. He could probably have squeezed himself through the gap under the door if he needed to, but the door was open a crack. He peeked in.

The cat snoozed happily on the chair left messily pulled out from the desk. Perfect, it was asleep. All he had to do was not make noise and-

It didn't take long for Pin to find his prize. There, right on the desk, a bag of marshmallows. Bingo. The bag even proclaimed them "mini", like they were made for borrowers. He could probably fit two or three in his rucksack to surprise the kid with when she wakes up.

Even with the chair pulled away, it was a little too close to the cat for comfort. He really should turn around and just try and make the kid another toy.

Ah, fuck it.

Pin could take a little risk. The cat was asleep. He readied his sticky hand- a human children's toy, a little less reliable than a grappling hook but much quieter- and climbed his way up the desk.

No issues. He was in the clear. He ripped a small hole in the bag and stuffed three marshmallows in his pack.

When he turned around, the cat was not asleep.

It stared straight at him with huge, yellow eyes, pupils constricted and tail flickering back and forth.

"Oh, shit. Hey, kitty," Pin whispered, backing away slowly.

The cat hunkered down, its hindquarters wiggling slightly, like-

Heart pounding, Pin dropped the pack and ran. But he was too slow, of course he was too slow, he was five inches tall. Borrowers weren't made to be fast, they were made to be sneaky, and he'd done the one thing a borrower was never supposed to do: he'd been found.

The cat was on the desk in an instant and its paws pinned him to its surface in another, their fuzzy exteriors giving way to claws stabbing through his clothes, through his skin. He screamed, trying to squirm away, but that only made the agony intensify, the claws dragging through flesh as blood stained his ruined clothes.

"No! Stop!" he cried uselessly, gasping with pain, but the cat didn't listen. Its head drew closer, mouth opening to reveal a maw full of sharp teeth that could easily crush bones.

Pin wailed in despair. He was going to die a violent, bloody death before he even hit forty. It wasn't supposed to end like this!

He kicked wildly, and by some stroke of luck, he managed to land a hit on the cat's snout, causing it to rear back a little.

That was all he needed. Pin tore away from the paws, letting out another shriek as they popped through his skin, and ran toward the front of the desk as fast as he could, dropping blood behind him.

The cat spun, tail flickering and ears forward with excitement.

"Fuck off!" Pin shouted. He shoved the desk drawer open just enough to slide in, landing on the bottom with a grunt.

The cat's paw dove in after, reaching for him. He scrambled to the back of the drawer, trembling in terror.

"Calm- calm down," he told himself, trying to get his quick breathing under control. The drawer was too small: even if the cat got it open, it wouldn't be able to fit all the way in the back. He wrapped his arms around himself, quickly becoming soaked in blood as his midsection throbbed with pain.

It was so dark, the only light coming from the sliver where the cat's paw batted around, searching for him. Pin grabbed at the piece of paper he found himself sitting on, tearing off a piece with shaking hands and wrapping it over himself like a bandage. He pressed it there tightly, even as it became soaked with blood, too.

Pin always tried to be strong for the kid. But Chime wasn't here right now, so he let himself cry. It was the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life, and he might still die. What would happen to him? How was he going to get back home? What if he didn't stop bleeding and he died here in the dark?

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when the front door clicked open, making him startle in his frazzled state. The human wasn't supposed to be home yet, was he? Or had he just been sitting here that long?

"This is why I need to check my emails, Yarny!" the human called. Right, the beast that might have caused his slow, painful death was named Yarny.

The cat's paw retreated and it hopped off the desk, exiting the room with a loud, insistent meow.

"Yarny!" the human gasped. "Is that blood!? What happened? Are you hurt?"

Oh no. The human was going to find him if he didn't move. Pin stood up: now that the cat was gone, he needed to get out of here.

He took one step, stumbled, and sat right back down as his vision spun.

"Oh, thank god," the human said distantly. "What, then, did you catch a mouse? Please tell me it's not still running around my apartment."

The human was going to kill him.

He would die without even getting to say goodbye to Chime. She was going to be abandoned again, this time by him. No kid should have to go through that. He was supposed to be getting her a present. How had this all gone so wrong? He didn't want to die.

But the footsteps drew closer, and he didn't have a choice. He scooted back into the corner of the drawer, clutching the paper around himself like he would even have the time to bleed out. He sobbed, hoping it would at least be quick.

The door creaked as the human swung it open, pattering over to the desk. Pin's whole world rumbled around him as the human slid the drawer open, revealing him trembling in the corner.

"H-hi," Pin said weakly.

The human stared, eyes wide with disbelief. Pin had never been so close to a human before. He was even bigger up close. He looked like he might have been, well, a scrawny nerd, maybe a little more than half Pin's age if he had to guess, but things like that didn't matter at his size. A human baby could crush him, let alone a young man.

"What are you?" the human asked, incredulous.

The last thing Pin was going to do was put his species at risk. He shrugged. "Dying," he squeaked, unable to keep casual.

"Oh, oh no." The human seemed to snap out of his incredulous stupor, enormous hands reaching toward him. Pin cringed back, but the human scooped him up anyway.

Pin squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, trying not to whimper, but no death came for him. The human's hands were gentle, carrying him out of the drawer.

"Yarny, no," the human chastised, closing the bedroom door behind him as he walked out to the kitchen. He turned his attention to Pin. "I'm so sorry, I don't even know what you are. Yarny hurt you?"

"Yeah." He slowly opened his eyes, staring up at the giant. His trembling started up again. "Are you gonna kill me?"

"What? No!" The human seemed to realize he was making Pin uncomfortable and set him down carefully on the counter. "I won't hurt you, I promise. I'm- well, I'm not a doctor yet, I'm just a med student- are you still bleeding?"

Pin let out a shaky sigh of relief. His heart still raced with terror, but if the human was able to help him- well, he'd already been found.

He pulled the paper away from his injuries, getting a good look for the first time. Several bloody marks raked down his left side where the cat had sunk its claws into him. Blood oozed from them, warm and red.

"Look, uh," Pin didn't know the human's name. He almost never had company over, and no one just says their own name to themself. "Human guy. I know you don't know me but, you gotta help me, okay? I have a kid waiting up for me." It was risky revealing Chime's existence, but he never said he lived here, and since the human knew nothing about him, he'd have no way of knowing. His voice shook a little as he pled his case. "Single dad. She's got no one else. I can't die here, alright? C'mon. It- it hurts."

"Of course I'll help you!" the human exclaimed. He wrung his hands nervously. "It's just- I'm really not qualified, yet, is the thing. I could drive you to the emergency room? Or maybe, um, given your size, a small animal vet?"

"I'm not an animal!" Pin insisted, offended. "No, no, kid, listen. You can do this, alright? I've seen those books you keep in the living room. You got all the diagrams and shit. I can't be going to an emergency room and showing myself off to everybody. Just fix me and I'll be out of your hair."

"I haven't even done residency yet!" the human protested. "I've done a suture practice kit, but that's for normal-sized wounds, and it's just for practice, and I can't even determine that you need stitches because I'm not a doctor!" After a moment, he added, "And my name's Kendry."

"Pin," he introduced himself. "Practice kit's better than nothing. Just do that." He couldn't have this human take him out to get prodded at by a bunch of other humans, it sounded like his worst nightmare. "And I'm rushing you, 'cause I'm getting dizzy here."

Kendry looked alarmed at that. "Oh- okay!" he agreed, obviously still anxious. "Can you take off your shirt so I can examine you?"

"You got it." Pin removed the tatters that were once his shirt, wincing as the movement ignited more pain in his side.

Kendry peered closer. "I- yeah, I'm going to give you stitches. I would really like to take longer, but you can't have that much blood in you... I'm not a vet..." he trailed off.

"Good, 'cause I'm not a mouse," Pin grumbled, but the repeated broaching of the topic made him nervous. If Kendry saw him as a fellow person, he would probably be okay. But if the human saw him as an animal... who knows what he would do to him? The fact that his life laid entirely in this giant stranger's hands was terrifying.

"I'll be right back." Kendry dashed out of the kitchen, returning with a black fabric case. He unzipped it to reveal a cut-up silicone pad with all the cuts neatly sewn closed, curved needles of various sizes, thread, a bunch of different tweezers, and a few sets of scissors as tall as Pin.

Oh, he didn't like that last part at all.

But Kendry reached for the smallest curved needle, which still looked pretty damn big. "This is the practice kit. I did pretty well with the suture pad, but you're so small..." he fretted. He threaded the needle, pulled a packet from a drawer, ripped it open, and wiped the needle, thread, and one tweezer down with the tissue inside. He opened another one and held it hesitantly in front of Pin.

"I need to sanitize you first. Cats' claws can carry germs, I don't want you to get infected. It's going to sting," he warned. "I'm sorry, I can't give you anything for the pain, I'm worried you might even overdose on ibuprofen at your size..."

Pin maneuvered himself onto his other side, letting his injury face up toward Kendry, way too vulnerable. "It already stings, and I don't know what ibuprofen is. Just do it."

"Okay. Here goes." Kendry swiped the wipe over Pin's side, and he had to bite his cheek to keep from shrieking. It hurt, the fluid inside seeping into his open wounds.

"Are you okay?" Kendry asked.

"I will be once this thing stops bleeding," Pin said, voice strained.

"Alright, I just need you to hold still. Is it okay if I...?" Kendry brought his other hand to hover around him.

Pin hated the idea of being held in place, unable to move, but he nodded anyway. Whatever the doc-in-training had to do. "Go for it."

Kendry rested a finger on his back and a thumb on his chest, holding him gently but firmly in place despite Pin's continued trembling. "Just try and stay still. I'm sorry if it hurts. I'll do my best," he promised.

The needle entered his skin, dipping in and out as Pin fought the urge to squirm away. He couldn't hold back this time, sobbing harder every time the needle re-entered him. There were no more check-ups from Kendry: Pin could see, through tear-blurred eyes, all his focus was on the wound.

After way too long, Kendry released his hold, allowing Pin freedom of movement again. He didn't take advantage of it, exhausted by blood loss and his ordeal.

"Don't move," Kendry told him anyway. He grabbed one of the scissors.

Pin put his hands up, adrenaline flooding him. "I won't! What are you doing with that!?"

"Easy." Kendry wiped that down with the stinging wipe, too. "You still have the thread attached. I won't hurt you." He glanced down at the scissors, then back at Pin. "I know it must seem frightening to someone your size, but I'm just going to cut the thread. Honest."

"Right. Right, yeah." Pin forced himself to relax, lowering his hands back down as Kendry snipped the thread, leaving several wounds in his side stitched up relatively neatly.

Kendry grabbed a band-aid, one of the few medical tools Pin liked to take to keep around under the floorboards, and peeled the plastic away. He dropped some clear-ish gel from a tube onto the center. "I'm going to add some Neosporin on it just to be safe. An infection would wreak havoc on you."

"Sounds good to me," Pin agreed, sitting up. Kendry wrapped the band-aid around his body, the stitches hidden underneath. Good. He didn't want the kid to freak out about it.

"There. That went... pretty well, I think," Kendry said, almost stunned. "Where can I... discharge you to?"

"Thanks. The floor," Pin instructed. He could just get back home when Kendry wasn't looking. He'd have to find a new place after that, now that the human knew. Even if he was friendly enough to help, there was no way he'd want them to stay. "I'll be out soon as I can move around right."

Kendry tilted his head, the situation finally clicking. "Were you... living here?"

"Uh, yeah," Pin admitted. "Since before you moved in, actually."

"Oh! Well, um, I'm not going to kick you out after you just got attacked. You're... my patient. That wouldn't do," Kendry decided. "Does your daughter live here, too?"

The jig was pretty much up at this point. If Kendry wanted to hurt him, he already would have. "Yeah. Which is why I'm not telling you exactly where. I'm thankful and all, but... you get it."

"Oh, of course," Kendry agreed quickly. "You're just being a good dad."

Pin smiled at that, despite the pain. He wiped the tears from his face. "Thanks. I try, you know? She's not even my kid by blood, she actually lived here before either of us. I was scouting for a new place when I found her here all on her own. Seven years old, could you believe that?"

"What!? That's crazy!" Kendry pulled up a chair and sat, transfixed. "Seven years old, four inches tall?"

"Three tall. She was little. Apparently her parents had too many kids, so they just started kicking 'em out as soon as they were old enough. I don't think seven's old enough, but hey, what do I know?" Pin shook his head. "Today's the five-year anniversary of when we met. Usually stay out of your room, you gotta have your privacy, but I wanted to get the kid something special. Could I still get a few of those marshmallows?"

"Oh! Yeah, of course!" Kendry ran off toward the room, returning with a handful of mini-marshmallows as well as Pin's rucksack and sticky hand. "I figure these are yours?"

"Yeah. Thanks for being cool about everything." This was going so much better than he'd expected. "We'll move out soon. Probably should have the day you brought the cat."

"Um, you could stay if you want." Kendry offered, hope flashing in his eyes. "You were here first, after all."

This guy was obviously ridiculously lonely. But he mentioned having a friend? "I mean, yeah, that'd be great, if it's really alright. You okay?"

"Yeah! It's just- I lost my parents a few years ago," Kendry admitted. "You seem like... a really good dad. I don't want to make things harder for you. I don't mind having roommates."

Ah, so that was it. Pin reached out and patted Kendry's hand. He wouldn't mind having another pseudo-kid. "Me neither."

-

here's some more borrower whump i wrote if you like this! and be on the lookout for a Tiny Kane AU on thursday :)

feel free to ask to be on any of my taglists, btw!

everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night

@whumpshaped

one-shots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

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g/t whump taglist:

@whumpinthepot

@cupcakes-and-pain

just this one

@a-crumb-of-whump

event: @whumpmasinjuly @gianttol @promptsforyourwhumpfic

[the11tailedwrites]

Ten Lords A-leeping

Prompt: Stress position, Sleep deprivation

Characters: Gorou, Arataki Itto

Ships: Itto/Gorou

@amonthofwhump

|

Gorou tested the shackles that bound his wrists behind his back. They were incredibly tight, and his squirming only seemed to tighten them. There was a tug on his neck as the rope wrapped around it reminded him of its presence. He went still again, afraid that the rope would tighten even further if he moved. His legs were aching, and his eyes were heavy. He hadn't slept since they had captured him, fear of choking himself in his sleep fresh in his mind. That had been three days ago. Gorou's legs trembled under him, and he struggled to remain upright. Through his haze, he heard fighting—the clashing of swords and loud jeering. He saw the door slam open as his kidnappers rushed in to ensure he would remain their prisoner. He heard Itto's boisterous voice before he saw him, and he sounded angry. He watched, vaguely aware of his surroundings, as the door flew open and a pissed-off Oni stalked in. The usual cheerful glow, replaced with something dangerous. Gorou hazily watched Itto fight when, all at once, his legs gave out, and he fell to the side. The rope yanked, and Gorou let out a strangled choking sound. Black spots danced at the corners of his vision. There was a whizzing sound and a thwip, and Gorou hit the ground. He gazed weakly at the opposite wall to see Itto's claymore embedded into it. The rest of the fight was far too hazy for Gorou to discern. When he became more aware, Itto was kneeling beside him, concern on his face.

"Gorou?" Itto asked as he pulled Gorou into his lap, "You with me?"

Gorou couldn't even respond as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He sagged against Itto's chest as his vision went dark.

He awoke sometime later in a bed; he was too tired to care whose bed it was. He curled against the large warm mass beside him and fell asleep again.

[shywhumpauthor]

Whumpmas Day 2

I couldn’t think of a snippet to write for this so here you go.

whumpmas masterlist

Prompt chosen: human shield

When the Whumpee is pinned to Whumper’s chest by a knife to the throat or a gun to the head. They’re staring back at their teammates, all with their own weapons drawn. Whumper, the person everyone on the team had dedicated their lives to stopping, at any cost.

Leader looks back and forth between Whumpee and Whumper, swear beading on their forehead. If they were to shoot, they would risk hitting Whumpee. If they didn’t, they risked giving up their last chance at stopping Whumper.

[marvelous-writer]

I created my own fanart for my recent fic Christmas Trees, Webs and Bows so please go check it out!!!

[hopepetal]

12 Days of Whumpmas 2021

Day 12 - Twelve Drummers Drumming

Abandoned | Mugging | Found Family

This is unfinished! I will update it as I keep writing, though!

@amonthofwhump @whump-bean @sapphirechao

Isaac, Henry, Kathy, Donovan, Stella, and Thane belong to Sapph.

Allistair, Fiona, Viranthellion, Archie, and Mylaela belong to Kalli.

word count: 7051

This was… different.

Janet woke slowly, consciousness creeping back to her bit by bit. Stretching, she rolled over onto her side, hugging the pillow and smushing her face against it. She could feel that it was cold outside, from how close her bed was to the window she may or may not have left open overnight. The bright morning light shone in, the movement of the curtains making the shadows dance as though they lived. Snuggling further under her covers, Janet tried to block out the cold all around her. With how many blankets there were, this was quite an easy task, and Janet found herself slipping into unconsciousness again.

A knock on her door chased away the sweet grasp of sleep, and Janet moaned into her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut tight. A twinge of annoyance shot through her at being forced into fully waking up this soon. Her bare right foot brushed against her left leg, and the shock from her surprisingly cold foot against her warm leg was yet another thing that helped to jerk her away from unconsciousness. Janet groaned again, blinking her eyes open. She didn’t have the energy to ask who was there, and already her sleep-addled brain was forgetting that there was ever a knock in the first place- it must’ve been her imagination.

“Jenny?” a voice called out. At first, Janet thought that she had imagined that as well, before the voice piped up again. “Jenny, are you awake?” Finally, she recognized the voice to be Henry’s, her adopted brother. What he was doing, waking her up like this, she had no clue, but any traces of annoyance disappeared. She simply loved Henry too much to be annoyed with him, and as she became more and more awake and aware, her rationale was much clearer, as were her emotions.

After swallowing slightly, Janet softly cleared her throat, trying to sound like she hadn’t just woken up. “‘m awake…” She failed that, but wasn’t too bothered. Henry wouldn’t judge her, he knew how much her insomnia had been affecting her the past few days and knew that she was going to be more tired than she usually was. Which, if Janet was being perfectly honest, she was usually unable to get out of bed over half the time from exhaustion and pain. Her worst days were often spent laying in bed, unable to sleep as pain wracked her entire body, old wounds becoming aggravated. Thankfully this wasn’t one of those days, but she was still exhausted. Henry would know this, which is why it confused her so much that he was knocking on her door.

“Can I come in?” His voice was practically bubbling over with excitement, and Janet could picture him, out in the hall, bouncing on his toes as he waited for her response, eyes shining with joy. And how could she say no to that image? “I brought you hot cocoa! And uncle Alli is coming today, with Fiona and Archie!” He was so excited about the news that laughter came from him while he told his sister.

Janet took a moment to process that, before alarm shot through her, the same kind you feel when you look over at the alarm clock and realize that you have only a few minutes before the bus to school arrives. She quickly sat up in bed, getting tangled up in the covers as she tried to get out of bed. “They’re coming? Today? Why?” There was a slight panic in her voice as she walked across her room and opened the door. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

Henry’s worried face peered at her, and after a moment, he broke out smiling again. “No, no!” he chirped, walking into Janet’s room holding a tray with two mugs on it. He set the tray down on the small coffee table and sat on one of the plush seats, taking his own mug of hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, Jenny. Don’t you remember?” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, getting whipped cream on his nose, which he wiped off and ate.

Relief and embarrassment shot through Janet at the same time as she sat down across from Henry, taking the other mug from the tray. She took a sip of the cocoa, and immediately felt warmer on the inside and outside. It was good hot cocoa, of course, Henry probably spent some time making it himself. “Right… I can’t believe I forgot.” Janet laughed softly, trying to shake off her embarrassment. “Sorry, I must… really be tired, or something.” She took another sip of her hot chocolate.

Henry, seemingly unbothered, shrugged. “It’s okay. I forget about things when I’ve just woken up too. It’s like your brain is loading information really slowly. It’s kinda funny, but pretty embarrassing.” He set his mug down and stretched, yawning widely. “Father’s already zooming around the house trying to make sure it’s perfect for uncle Allistair. You know how he is.” A slight smile graced Henry’s lips. “It’s nice, seeing him so excited for something.”

“You sound so old,” Janet retorted, “I almost feel young again.” Of course, this was a lie. Being over four hundred years old, relatively young for her kind, made her feel ancient compared to her much more mortal adoptive family. “Keep talking like that and who knows, maybe you’ll end up like me.” She sipped her drink. “This is good,” she commented, smiling as a blush spread across Henry’s face as he looked away. “I mean it. You did a really good job with this.” Another sip. “Thank you for waking me up. I would’ve been sad if I had missed them. I’ve already done that enough.”

Henry looked back up at Janet, his green eyes meeting her blue ones. “We all understood when you missed them those other times, you weren’t really in control of that, y’know.” He frowned slightly, thinking back to one of those times when Janet had been running a high fever and was in too much pain to even say anything to even Fiona, something that was always concerning. Janet always got better, of course, but that didn’t make those times any less anxiety inducing. Isaac had been doing research into this to help her, but hadn’t gotten very far yet. Everyone was hopeful that they would find something that worked soon, especially Henry. He hated to see his sister suffer like that, helpless to do anything. “I bet they’ll be really glad to see you. You look like you’re feeling better.”

Janet nodded. “I do feel a lot better.” And she did. As the last tendrils of sleep fell away, Janet felt very little pain from her body. She didn’t feel like she was going to faint, or throw up, or like her very blood was made of liquid fire, which was certainly a plus. She actually felt somewhat normal today, now that she was moving about and talking. Of course, the hot cocoa helped as well. “Maybe this means you should make me hot chocolate every single morning,” Janet teased.

“I could!” Henry brightened up, much to Janet’s amusement. “I could make a bunch of hot cocoa in one batch, and then have enough to last for a long time, and it won’t go bad because I have a spell that can combat that!” He picked up his mug again and took a long sip. “I wonder if that would work or not. I hope so.”

They finished their cocoa slowly, chattering all the while about random things. Janet closed the open window and brought over blankets that she and Henry wrapped themselves in. After a while, there was another knock on Janet’s door. She looked up, and, not bothering to walk, teleported over to the door and opened it. There stood Isaac, his hair all mussed up from cleaning the castle frantically one last time before Allistair and his family would arrive.

Janet laughed softly. “Papa, have you even cleaned yourself yet?” She reached out and gently fixed his ruffled blond hair. “There we go. Perfect.” She took a step back, watching Isaac with quite a bit of amusement as the saint huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes, good morning to you too.” He pulled Janet in close, hugging her gently. “I’m glad to see you’re awake already. Did you sleep well?” He pulled away and looked her over, seemingly searching for any signs that she might be in pain, or something like that. “Did Henry wake you too early?”

Janet shook her head. “I slept… alright. I feel good today, though.” She laughed. “Yes, Henry woke me up so early, I think that I’m going to perish. I can almost feel the fires of hell pulling me down.”

Isaac sighed. “Well, just… be careful, alright?” He let go of her, smoothing out his clothes. “Allistair said he should be coming around in about an hour, so I think I have time to go clean the castle once more before-”

“Papa,” Janet interrupted, taking his hands in her own, “I think you should go take a shower and clean yourself up, and get some breakfast. Allistair lives on a ship most of the time, I don’t think he cares about how clean the castle is.”

Isaac groaned. “You’re right, Jenny… alright, but if I have time left after that I’ll try cleaning just a bit more-”

“Yes, yes, now get going. I love you, papa!” Janet gently shooed him out of the room, before turning back to Henry. “I suppose we should get ready as well.”

“We?” Henry inquired, tilting his head. “I’m all ready.” He smirked. “I think it’s just you who needs to get ready.”

Janet rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright. Get out of my room, then. Maybe go bake some cookies or something while you wait.”

Henry laughed as he left the room, taking the tray and the empty mugs with him.

---

Janet stepped out of the shower, a soft towel wrapped around her. She walked into her bedroom, shivering slightly at the colder temperature compared to the steamy bathroom. She could use magic to start a fire in the fireplace, but she didn’t want to risk exhausting herself before the big event tonight. Walking over to her closet, she opened the doors, smiling slightly at the wide variety of clothing hanging in there. Before she met Isaac and especially before she met Fiona, her wardrobe had often remained dull and basic. But now, with her newfound family more than willing to buy and make clothing for her, Janet found herself with plenty of options.

And she knew the perfect dress for today. It had been made for her by Fiona, with a little help from Archie and Mylaela for a more magic touch, that would apparently help with the random bouts of pain that Janet often suffered through. She pulled it out of the closet carefully, looking it over. It was a deep blue that matched her eyes, though faint dark greens and purples decorated the skirt as well. The straps went around her shoulders instead of over them, looking like a ball gown more than anything. The sleeves were long, starting at where the shoulder straps went around her arm and going to her wrists, which Janet appreciated. The sleeves had a little butterfly wing look, so she could lift up her arms and the fabric would hang down, making her arms look like butterfly wings.

Taking off her towel in favor of quickly drying her hair slightly, Janet got dressed slowly, carefully, so as to not set off any unnecessary pain. Finally, once she was dressed, it was time to do her hair- one of her least favourite things. She took a brush and began to carefully run it through her hair, using her telekinesis to get the ends so she wouldn’t have to strain herself to get down that far. It was quite a handy skill, but didn’t feel too pleasant. Once her tangles were thoroughly worked out, she massaged in a leave-in conditioner. It felt nice to be clean, often she couldn’t shower well, or even at all because of the pain. Janet wondered if she should put her hair up, before shrugging slightly. They wouldn’t judge her if she didn’t have any fancy styles, it was a miracle she was even up anyways. Right?

A sudden anxiety twisted in her chest, and Janet frowned. She itched at her neck, something she tended to do when anxious, looking around her room. There was a sudden pressure on her to do her hair, to do something, to at least look like she tried to look presentable. Tears welled up in her eyes, very much unwanted but just as unstoppable. She sniffled, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead. You take so much from them, and don’t even care about your appearance? Shame rushed through her as she attempted to combat that ugly voice. “I- I care,” she mumbled aloud, her voice thick with emotion, “I do, I do care…” she trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut. “Please… I…” I don’t want to be a burden. Words left unsaid but stung all the same as Janet began to sob.

A knock on her door startled Janet out of her misery, her tears stopping abruptly as she looked up at the door. Oh god, she hadn’t meant to be heard by anyone else, she didn’t want to inconvenience the others. She was already bad enough, laboring them with the pains of taking care of her, she had absolutely no right to bother them with her self doubt and guilt. Janet squeezed her eyes shut tightly and shook her head. No. You can’t be thinking like that, she chided herself, You’re better than this. You know they love you, no matter what. After another moment taken to dry her tears completely, Janet answered the door to a concerned looking Henry.

“Jenny?” His forehead creased as he frowned, looking her up and down. “Are you okay? I thought I heard you crying, and I wanted to check on you.” He reached out and took one of Janet’s hands in his own, squeezing it gently. “I love you, you know,” he murmured gently, looking into her eyes. “You’re my only sister. I care about you a lot. You can always tell me, or father, or even Thane if something- or someone- is bothering you.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly. “Although uncle Alli or Thane would probably be better suited to deal with someone bothering you, I can’t really fight.”

Janet laughed softly with him, squeezing his hand back. “No, Henry, I’m alright. Just… got a little sad for a moment.” She hugged him gently. “I know you love me, silly. I love you too. You and papa and even your strange little cat that you found on the side of the road that one time we went out. You’re the best family I could ever ask for.” She pulled away. “Thank you, though. That means a lot to me. I mean it.”

Henry’s eyes shone. “Alright, then. I really like your dress!” he chirped, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Is that the one that Fiona sent you? It looks really good on you, not that you’d look bad in anything.”

Janet pinched his cheek lightly. “Flattery will get you nowhere, young man,” she cooed light heartedly, laughing alongside Henry, letting go as he pulled away. “Now let me finish getting ready, will you? I’m sure the Sullivans will be here any moment, and you need to go find papa to make sure he’s not busy cleaning some remote corner of this castle when they arrive.”

“You joke, but-” Henry started, before running off laughing. “I think I saw him in the library last!” he called back, before disappearing around the corner.

Janet closed the door, walking back over to her closet. She picked out a pair of boots that went along well with the dress (well, at least, she hoped. She’d never been one to have an eye for fashion, but she was sure it would be fine). Finally, she stepped back and looked at herself in the mirror, smiling slightly. She liked how she looked, for once. She ran a brush through her hair one more time before she was fully satisfied. She stepped out of her room and descended the grand staircase into the main hall, looking around at all the decorations Isaac, Henry, and the others had so carefully set up. It truly was beautiful, and she took a moment to admire them before peeking into the kitchen.

There she saw Kathy and Donovan washing some dishes, and Thane lurking in a corner eating a cookie. When she stepped into the room, all three looked over at her, as if expecting to see someone else- likely Isaac or Henry. Kathy’s eyes lit up when she saw it was Janet, and the woman rushed over to give the other a hug.

“Janet!” she squealed, “you’re awake!” She pulled back, holding Janet by her shoulders, looking her over. “Are you feeling alright? You aren’t sick? Oh, this is wonderful!”

Janet couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, but she brushed the feeling away, smiling at Kathy. “Yeah, I’m doing alright.” She looked over at Thane. “Are you supposed to be eating that yet or…?”

Kathy turned to see the spectre eating the cookies. “Thane! I told you to leave those!” She went to take it from Thane, but he simply disappeared into the shadows and appeared in a different part of the room. “No fair!” Kathy exclaimed, although it was light hearted. “Fine, you can have that one. But no more, or I’ll put a spell tag on you just to slap you.”

Thane chuckled. “You’d have to catch me first, and you have a hard time doing that even when I’m not expecting it. Good luck.”

Donovan sighed. “It’s nice to see you around, Janet. Kathy, can you help please?”

“Oh! Oh, yes, sorry!” Kathy went back to the sink to continue helping her fiance wash the dishes. She looked at Janet once more. “We’ll join you after we’re finished, I may have made too many cookies and used a couple more pans than I meant to…”

“A couple isn’t what I would use to describe how many you used,” Donovan grumbled, but he was smiling. He kissed Kathy lightly on the cheek.

Janet walked out of the kitchen, going to sit down on one of the couches in the main hall. She let out a sigh of exhaustion as she sat. Even walking that little had been enough to tire her out. She leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes. She felt so tired now, surely a little rest wouldn’t hurt…

Her sensitive ears picked it up before anyone else did. Footsteps, heavy footsteps, in the snow. Voices that could only belong to a few people, people who everyone there held dear to their hearts. Janet jumped up from the couch, briefly regretting it when a sharp spike of pain shot up her right leg, but she ignored it in favor of rushing to the door. She peeked out the window and saw three figures walking through the snow, all bundled up, and opened the door for them when they got close. “Fiona! Allistair! Archie!” A smile lit up her face. “It’s so nice to see you all!”

“Jenny!” Fiona rushed into the castle and threw her arms around Janet. “You’re here!” Once again, there was surprise in her voice, but Janet was too excited to feel guilty this time. She hugged Fiona back, before pulling away and looking up at the other two.

“God, Allistair, you’re taller than I remembered,” Janet commented, letting out a soft huff. “I’m going to get dizzy looking up at you.”

“Not my fault you’re short,” Allistair shot back, before laughing. “It’s good to see you again, Janet. Where’s Isaac?”

Janet sighed, stepping out of the way to let the three further into the house. “Henry’s looking for him. He should be here any moment now, he was busy cleaning the house. Again.”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Isaac appeared in front of the group, looking somewhat disheveled, but better than he had been earlier. “Allistair! Fiona, Archie, welcome! I’m-”

Allistair scooped his Saint up into a hug. “If you say that you’re sorry for the mess, I think I might smack you,” he joked, before setting a now flustered Isaac down. “You look like you’ve been working hard, Saint.”

Isaac wrang his hands together, looking away. “Y-yes, I have. But it was nothing, really. I just wanted to make you all feel welcome.”

“Auntie Jenny!” Archie chirped, excited to see her again as well it seemed, “May I hug you please?”

Fiona gently whacked her son over the head. “Take off your jackets first, honey. You don't want Jenny to freeze to death.”

Archie playfully whined, beginning to take his many layers off. “It’s really cold out, but there were so many birds! Grandda says that birds tell stories when they sing, you just need to listen!” he prattled on, eyes shining.

“I think he says that about everything,” Allistair quipped, “Listen to the grass too, maybe it’ll tell you a story.”

Fiona smacked her husband’s shoulder- she was far too small to reach his head, and she had to reach to even smack his shoulder. “Be nice, Allistair!” she chided lightly, which earned a chuckle from the sailor.

Archie finally got out of his last coat and threw his arms around Janet, who squeaked in surprise from the sudden hug. She tensed up for a moment, before huffing softly and hugging him back. “Give me some warning before you do that, will you?” she laughed, “You could’ve knocked me over.”

Fiona and Allistair began to slowly take off all their layers, Isaac ready to help the moment either of them asked. Janet stepped away, feeling the chill begin to creep into her bones. She silently cursed her broken body as she limped over to the fire, letting herself warm up. She sat down, sighing softly. Even that slight exposure to the cold had been enough to chill her, and she was already tired from all the moving around. Walking was so much energy, she really didn’t have it in her. And she knew, she knew she was lucky to even be able to walk, to be up and moving and talking and awake. But she couldn’t help but wish for more. She wanted to be able to run around, jump about, and not have to immediately sit down after walking five feet or standing for five minutes.

Someone sat down beside her, and Janet nearly jumped out of her skin. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even picked up that someone else was there, approaching her, even with her sensitive hearing. She looked over and saw that it was Fiona, cheeks still bright red from the cold journey she had taken, eyes shining with life, hair slightly mussed up from her hat. “Fiona…?” Janet trailed off, not really knowing where she was going to go with that sentence. “Is something wrong?” she asked, not sure what to say.

Fiona laughed softly, shaking her head. “It’s so cold out, it’s nice to warm up for a bit by the fire.” She turned her gaze back to the crackling flames, casting a dim glow overshadowed by the sunlight streaming in through the windows. “You also looked like you needed somebody to talk to.”

Janet sighed. “Am I really that much of an open book?” She didn’t need an answer, she already knew what it would be anyways. “Thank you, Fiona, but-”

“Ah-ah, none of that. Jenny, babe, what’s bothering you?” Kind, concerned, beautiful green eyes looked up at her, and Janet crumbled under their gaze.

“I just… I feel so cruel,” Janet started, “I’m taunting you all. I’m up now, but I’m not… normal. I can’t be like you all. And who knows how long it’ll be before I’m back in bed, unable to get out? I sometimes feel like if I didn’t have these moments, you wouldn’t… wouldn’t wait for me, you know? Everyone’s so excited to see me around, and I’m happy to see them too, but I just feel so guilty. Everyone expects me to never be around. I feel like a burden.” Fiona sighed softly, closing her eyes briefly. “Jenny… none of us expect or want you to be ‘normal’. You aren’t even abnormal. You’re just a little different from the rest of us, but we’re all different from each other. This is just the way you’re different. And you can’t control that just as much as we can control our freckles, our noses, our eyes… you’re not a burden just because you need extra help either. You’re our friend, we care about you and love you so much. We aren’t going to stop caring about you because you’re bedridden, or you’re sick, or whatever it is that’s happening. Because we love you, not your body or what you can do. We love who you are, we love your spirit. No matter what happens to the vessel, the spirit never changes. You will always be a kind, caring, loveable girl who I care deeply for.”

Janet sat in silence for a moment, watching the fire crackle and pop. She fought back tears, drawing her knees up to her chest. “...thank you, Fiona. I needed that.” She looked over at the other woman. “I’d kiss you, but your husband is watching and I don't think he’d like that.”

“Oh, to hell with that.” Fiona pulled Janet in close and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “There you go.” She smiled. “I should go start getting ready. I’ll see you soon, Jenny, alright?” She stood up and walked over to Allistair, who was waiting for her. Archie had already run upstairs to get ready and find Captain Albert, the squid plushie that had been given as a gift to his father a while ago.

Janet remained by the fire, the warmth seeping into her bones. Tiredness washed over her, a powerful wave that quickly pulled her under. She drifted into the sweet grasp of sleep, warmed by both the fire and Fiona’s kind words.

--

“Jenny, dear?”

“I think she fell asleep again, poor thing.”

“Can we move her to a couch? I can’t imagine she’s very comfortable on the floor…”

“I don’t want to wake her up, though.”

Janet woke to the sound of concerned voices and a slight headache. She slowly opened her eyes, gazing up at Stella and Mylaela. She blinked, confirming what she was seeing. “...Myla? Stella?” She slowly sat up, groaning softly at the pain in her back. She took another moment to regain her senses before speaking again. “I… fell asleep on the floor again.” It wasn’t a question. Shame flooded through her as the two other women nodded. “...I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no worries dear. We were just worried, is all,” Stella tried to reassure Janet. “My boy Isaac told me it’s something you might do, I was just worried seeing it happen.”

Another pang of guilt shot through Janet, who looked away. She looked back over at Stella and Mylaela after a moment, trying to change the subject. “I thought you’d arrive with your son, Myla. Did something hold you up?”

Mylaela nodded. “Yes, I had to get something. I met with Stella on the way here, and we arrived a few minutes ago.”

Janet hummed softly to herself. “It’s nice to see you two again. I missed you.”

Stella pulled Janet close into a tight hug. “Oh, we missed you as well, Jenny! It’s been so long since I last saw you up and about.” She pulled away. “Have you been eating enough? You look so thin, of course not-”

“Give her some space,” Mylaela interjected, and Stella laughed slightly before stepping away. “How are you feeling?”

Janet closed her eyes for a moment. “I… better than usual. A little worse than earlier, I have a headache,” she admitted. “I probably need to drink something.”

“I can get you something,” Stella offered, “Would you like tea? Water?”

“Water is fine,” Janet murmured, pressing the back of her hand to her head. “I can get it myself-”

“No, no, really. It’s no trouble at all,” Stella said cheerfully, before walking away to go get Janet some water.

Janet watched her go before looking up at Mylaela. “May you help me stand up please?”

“Of course, dear.” Mylaela gently helped Janet stand, steadying her when she stumbled. “Careful, now.”

Janet leaned against Myla for a moment before she was steady enough to stand on her own. “Thank you very much,” she murmured, to which Myla nodded slightly. Janet’s eyes darted up as Stella came back holding a full water bottle. Janet was relieved at seeing that- she didn’t really trust herself to not accidentally drop a glass, or at least spill it. Stella must’ve remembered her preference for water bottles.

“Here you go, Jenny dear.” Stella handed her the water bottle, smiling when Janet took it. “You look beautiful, by the way. That dress looks just stunning on you.”

Janet flushed, looking away shyly. “Thank you. You look really pretty too,” she murmured, looking at Stella’s silver dress. “I like that colour on you.” She took a sip of her water, feeling parched.

“Aw, you’re too sweet,” Stella cooed, “I really like this dress too.” She looked over to Mylaela. “I suppose you aren’t one for dresses?”

Mylaela shook her head. “I just never liked how they looked on me. Besides, if something happened, I can move more freely without one. I much prefer skirts, you’re very free in them.” She ran her hands over the fabric of her skirt, smiling. Janet laughed softly. “Well, I see where Allistair gets his tendency to overthink things.”

“It’s called being prepared, lass,” Allistair called out, startling the three women. The redhead captain had approached them with all the stealth of a rogue, Isaac following close behind.

“Our Lady, Allistair!” Stella exclaimed, “Don’t sneak up on us like that!” She clutched at her chest dramatically. “You’ll give this old woman a heart attack!”

“Mother, don’t joke about that,” Isaac pleaded, to which Stella laughed.

“It’s alright, Isaac. I’m not actually going to die of fright.” Stella quickly pulled her boy into a hug, causing him to squeak. “I’d have died a long time ago if it was going to happen.”

“Mother-” Isaac started, but she cut him off.

“Now, where’s that nice suit I gave you? You should go put that on. Unless…” Stella faked a hurt expression. “...you don’t like it?”

Isaac’s eyes widened as he paled. “No! No, I love it! I’ll- I’ll go do that right now!” He disappeared, much to Janet and Mylaela’s amusement.

“Children are so fun to tease,” Janet giggled, thinking back fondly of the times she would tease her children when they had grown up.

“Indeed they are.” Mylaela looked at Allistair, who flinched back.

“Ma, really, do you have to-” Allistair started.

“I brought baby pictures.” Mylaela pulled a book out of thin air. “Alli was such a little bean when he was younger.”

“Ma!” Allistair protested, to no avail. Mylaela had already opened the book and was showing Janet and Stella all of the adorable pictures of the younger Allistair.

“Are you sure that’s him? He’s so tiny~” Janet cooed, smirking when Allistair’s face flushed. “Such a big man now, aren’t you?”

“Janet! Lass, please,” Allistair begged, although the sparkle in his eye indicated his light heartedness. “Ma, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Well, then why don’t you come over and look at the pictures too? That way you can see there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Mylaela invited, sighing overdramatically when Allistair shook his head. “Well, then I’ll just have to keep showing your adorable little face~”

“Ooh, are we looking at Allistair’s baby pictures?” Fiona appeared at the top of the stairs, descending quickly. She had changed out of her warm clothes and into a lovely dress. She walked over to Allistair and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, before practically skipping over to the gathered women. “Awww, Alli! Don’t tell me this is you!” she cooed.

Allistair groaned in embarrassment, covering his face. “Hen, please! Not you too!”

“Oh yes, me too!” Fiona exclaimed, giggling. “Aww, you look like Archie did when he was little! Such a shame I didn’t bring pictures of him…”

“I think he’s the only one who’d be upset you didn’t bring his baby pictures,” Allistair grumbled, rubbing his face. “You could’ve brought his instead of mine, ma.”

“Oh, but I did!” Mylaela flipped through a few pages of the book, before humming triumphantly. “Here we are! The Archie section~”

An excited squeal came from the top of the staircase. Archie practically jumped down the stairs. “Gramma!” He threw himself at Mylaela, who staggered back from the force of the boy’s hug. “Gramma, you’re here!”

“Archie!” Fiona scolded, “be careful!”

Archie pulled back with a whine. “Sorry gramma!”

Mylaela laughed, ruffling his hair. “It’s alright, young one. Your enthusiasm is not unlike anything I’ve seen before.” She cast a glance at Allistair, who shrugged innocently. “Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about young man,” she quipped, earning a chuckle from her son.

Archie was dressed in a pretty floral dress, his bangs pinned back with a flower pin. Janet winced a little at all the flowers, but she kept herself under control. You shouldn’t ruin another thing for them, she internally chided herself, you’ve already done enough damage here. A small voice in the back of her mind, the part she always tried to suppress, piped up. Just a stupid pet. That’s all you’ll ever be.

“Jenny?”

Janet blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “Huh? Is something wrong?” she asked, still sounding distant.

“Are you alright, lass?” Allistair’s gruff voice was concerned, soft. “You spaced out for a moment there.”

Janet forced a smile. “Yes, sorry. I’m alright. I just got thinking about something. It’s nothing, though.”

Allistair clearly wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t press further. Thank god for that. Janet looked up as Henry and Isaac appeared, both dressed up like everyone else. Isaac was wearing the suit Stella had mentioned earlier, and was fidgeting nervously, a soft blush on his face.

Stella cooed. “Oh, my little star child! You look absolutely adorable!”

Isaac covered his face, turning red. “Mother-!”

“Ah-ah, I won’t hear any complaints or protests. Come, come! We must open presents now!” Stella took Isaac by the hands and led her son over to the enormous pine tree, which had been decorated with great care by Isaac, Henry, Kathy, Donovan, Bradley, and the others. Janet had had to sit out of the decorating for the most part, but she had at least been able to use her telekinesis to lift Henry up so he could put the star on top of the tree.

Piled beneath the tree were heaps of presents of all shapes in sizes, wrapped in colourful paper. The presents had slowly been amassing under the tree over the past week or so, everyone putting in their presents when they could. Janet’s eyes drifted to where she had put her gifts, all decorated in blue wrapping paper with a silver ribbon tied carefully around each one. She hoped her gifts were good, she hadn’t gone Christmas shopping in… some odd two hundred or so years. Half of her life. She had spent over half her life in captivity.

And suddenly, she wasn’t in the grand hall anymore, surrounded by those who loved her, by lights that shone bright. She was back in that house, cowering in the basement, clothes and skin torn open by the cruel whip that her master held. Chains wrapping around her arms, legs, forcing her to remain in place as the demon raised the whip again. She was ripped back into reality as her bare feet touched the snow, and she realized she had teleported. A shriek ripped it’s way from her lips, mostly from the shock. Sinking up to her knees into the snow, Janet burst into tears, the sudden cold spreading through her body, numbing her, stiffening her bones. She knew it, she knew that she was going to do something stupid and ruin everything. She never should’ve woken up at all, should’ve stayed in bed. This is why you can’t have nice things.

Janet was shaking violently now. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t get herself to teleport. She knew they were panicking, looking for her, but she couldn’t move. She was ruining what was supposed to be a happy moment. Again.

She was lifted out of the snow by gentle hands, and a familiar voice hummed softly along with the melody of the breeze, sending a calming magic through Janet’s body. She clung to the man who had rescued her, weeping silently. She kept gasping out apologies in between sobs.

Viranthellion held the sobbing girl close, humming a soothing melody. Magic surrounded them, protecting them from the cold that had ravaged Janet’s frail body in such a short time. He let Janet pull away when she needed, smiling kindly at the teary eyed girl. “Hello, Janet,” he greeted softly.

Janet opened her mouth as though she was about the speak, but decided against it with a small shake of her head. She wiped her eyes, sniffling quietly, trembling still from the cold and shock of the whole experience. Her face was red, either from the cold or shame, possibly both. Once again, she looked up at Viranthellion, speaking this time. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I messed up. I made you come here-”

Viranthellion shook his head. “I felt your distress. I chose to come to you. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to.” That was a little bit of a lie, but sometimes lies were necessary in life. Of course, if his madam Dai Rhen heard him say that… His hand instinctively went up to his head and rubbed at an imaginary sore spot.

Janet looked away, her expression full of shame. “I need to go back, but…” She trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence.

“You don’t want to,” Viranthellion finished, smiling slightly when she nodded. “You’re worried they’ll hate you, hm?”

“They should,” Janet murmured, “I’d feel less guilty if they hated me than if they kept loving me like they do. It’s… it’s not fair.” Frustration grew in her voice. “I don’t deserve this, but they keep insisting I do. I don’t know what to do with all their kindness and love. What if I keep slipping up, and they start to resent me? I… I don’t think I could handle it if they started hating me.”

Viranthellion sighed softly, humming thoughtfully. “Janet, I’ve lived for almost a millennium. I’ve travelled to every corner of this earth, heard the stories of a billion men. I’ve seen people be born, watched them grow, and then finally become old and weary. I’ve watched the caskets of those whose mothers and fathers I knew be buried under the earth. I’ve seen so many things, so many different types of people. I’ve become quite skilled with reading people. And never, not in another thousand years, not for as long as they grace the earth, will any one of the people who care about you start to resent you for your trauma. They will not turn away because you believe you do not deserve their affections. They will love you, for all your flaws, because they can see the beauty in you. And that beauty is what draws them to you, what makes you the wonderful woman you are.”

Tears had begun to streak down Janet’s face as Viron spoke. His words touched her, moved something deep inside. It seemed like these were the words she hadn’t known she had needed to hear. “Viranthellion…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it trembled with so much emotion.

The elf smiled, holding his hand out to her. “Let’s go join our family, shall we?” he offered, his eyes shining kindly.

Janet wiped her eyes one more time before taking his hand. “Thank you.”

—

After the initial worrying and fussing over Janet had calmed down, the family gathered around the Christmas tree once more, now with Fiona’s father joining them. Chatter and laughter grew as everyone opened their presents. Janet opened one that was very clearly from Archie, smiling as she pulled out a pair of warm, fuzzy socks.

“Thank you, Archie.” She stood up and walked over to the boy, hugging him. “I’ll make sure to wear these often.”

Archie giggled, his eyes shining. “I’m glad you like them, Auntie Jenny!” he squealed. “I really like the book you gave me, it looks really good.” He smiled broadly. “Was this yours when you were a kid?”

Janet nodded. “A Little Pretty Pocket Book was what I read before bed every night. It was fascinating to me… I’m surprised it survived this long, but magic is a wonder.”

“It really is,” Viranthellion chuckled. He peered at the old book in Archie’s hand curiously. “The magic around that book feels strange, though.”

Janet shrugged. “Maybe my magic was different back then.”

“Maybe,” Viron agreed, although he cast another worried look towards the book Archie was now excitedly flipping through.

Isaac held up a soft gray sweater that matched the colour of his eyes. “Mother!” he exclaimed, “this is lovely!”

Stella smiled, kissing her son on the head. “I know it is. I made it myself. With magic, of course,” she smirked.

Isaac leaned against his mother. He was clearly overjoyed that she was here. After all, they hadn’t been able to see each other for quite some time. Janet could see the tears in his eyes- tears he couldn’t help but let fall as he hugged his mother.

[mothmxwhump]

Day two: Two Turtle Doves: Self Sacrifice | Human Shield | Reunion

(Tw: implied torture, captivity whump, kinda creepy whumper, self sacrificing caretaker, possibly implied noncon depending on how you read it)

Whumpee laid against the wall of their cell, eyes closed. Listening to the soft dripping of the pipes, they tapped their fingers against the floor.

Drip

Tap

Drip

Tap

Drip

Tap

Caretaker had been taken from the cell a while ago. They had no way of knowing just how long, or where they were. They just knew it had been far too long. A small, traitorous part of them hoped Caretaker was dead. It would be a mercy, compared to wasting away in the tiny concrete cell, listening to the water dripping and hoping Whumper would toss them scraps of food. How long had it been since they’d been fed? It seemed like a while. But maybe that was their mind playing tricks on them. Hunger and thirst always made time stretch out for them, after all.

But they knew it had been days since Caretaker had begged to be taken instead, pleaded with Whumper to just let whumpee rest for a little bit longer.

Whumpee shifted into an upright position when they heard the cell door creak open and the shuffling of feet on the concrete floor. Whumper dragged a tired, bruised, and bloody Caretaker into the small room and tossed them to the floor at Whumpee’s feet. Whumpee scrambled over to them, checking to see if they were alive.

Once they were certain their friend was breathing, they looked up at Whumper. “Wh...what did you do…?” They whispered, staring up at the smirking figure.

“Just had some fun.” Whumper winked.

[noirineverysense]

Quick announcement

Doing a short story for the 12 days of whumpmas with some new ocs (same story tho) one is a girl called Rosie who is a pet (slight conditioning but not much). I know plenty of people don't like pet or lady whump so I'll tag both. You can also block the tag acp 2.

The story will also have some non-con touching and that'll be tagged too.

But if those things interest you then the first chapter's going up tomorrow!

Lots of love ❤

[hollyethecurious]

Last

LAST — the most recently written two sentences of my current project

This one is from an upcoming Twelve Days of Whumpmas fic:

“It’s only me, love,” Hook assured in a soft voice. “He’s gone for now. I told him to go take some time to… cool off.”

Emma nodded and attempted to swallow past the parched, raw lining of her throat.

Send me one of these for any of my wips, or finished works... if applicable.

[amonthofwhump]

Hi!

Does AMOW start tomorrow, Dec. 1st? Or the 12 days leading up to Christmas?

ps really excited because this & Whumpcember are the first time I've ever participated in anything whump. I've read it, but I've never *wrote* anything. so really excited, and nervous lol

It starts today and ends December 12th! We can't wait to see what you create! Have fun and happy whumping!

Mod Vee

[boowhumps]

12 Days of Whumpmas

※ Day III | Betrayal ※

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

※ TW ※

- Swearing

- Mentions of Death

- Mentions of Suicide

- Mentions of Cheating (if u squint)

Enjoy!

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

..fuck..

..why is it so dark here..?

..i don't remember..

..no..

..i do remember..

..am I dead..?

..this isn't the afterlife..

..this isn't familiar at all..

...

..hello..?

...

..what are you doing here..?

..no..

..you can't, not after so long..

..you'll ruin everything..

..please..

..i have a family now..

..you can't..

..no̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓..

..i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜m̶̥͇͈̣̏͑̿͑̃̈͛̕͠ ️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓ŕ̶̛̰̱̈́̀́̑̿̾͛͂̈́͗̓̈́̒͘͝️ŕ̶̛̰̱̈́̀́̑̿̾͛͂̈́͗̓̈́̒͘͝️y̷̧̰̲͍̝̘̗̩̑̇͐̾̽̏͊͑̇̃̉͜, p̸̢̻͓͎̻͙͂͒̋͒̓̃͊̐̔͘͝l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜..!

..t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜y̷̧̰̲͍̝̘̗̩̑̇͐̾̽̏͊͑̇̃̉͜'ŕ̶̛̰̱̈́̀́̑̿̾͛͂̈́͗̓̈́̒͘͝️ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜ i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓️c̸̛͕̯͂̐̓͗͊͛͝ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝, p̸̢̻͓͎̻͙͂͒̋͒̓̃͊̐̔͘͝l̷̢̨̨̫̼͙̞͉̗͉̖̲̖̞̿̉ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜..!

..t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝ i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋'t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ I̸̡̛̳͌̉͋͐͒̍ ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅâ̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜d̴̨̢̤̗̦͚̺̭̤͙̹̃̕..!

..t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝ i̵̢̢̡͚̩̞̥͕̜̻̫̩̐̈͘͜️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝️ṉ̵͓̬͈̞̥̭̥̇̓̔͋'t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ ŵ̵̨̢̳̞̤̝̖̠̘̩̞̘̭͍̘̐́̈͑̈́̐̂̔̽̓͋̂̔ͅȟ̸̨̯̲̝̳͓͎̭͖͊̄̔̽̓̂̋̇̋̀̕̚͜â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽t̵̏͛̃̍́̈̚͜͝ I̸̡̛̳͌̉͋͐͒̍ â̸̙͐͑̌̿͛̽️ş̵̛̳̍̃̏͆̏̂̎͌͘͝͝͝͝k̵̨̪̖͇͙͎̜͊̌͘͜ẹ̷͓̺̰̽̍͛̉̐̔͋̓̚͜d̴̨̢̤̗̦͚̺̭̤͙̹̃̕ ḟ̴̧̧̗͍͉͔̹͎̻͓̇͊̃̒̄̈̓̉̌̈͝͝o̶̯͎̱͐̇͋̅̃̈́͋̽̊̀̓͊̃́͋̓ŕ̶̛̰̱̈́̀́̑̿̾͛͂̈́͗̓̈́̒͘͝️..!

..️S̴̨̛͇̺͇͕̟̘͎̗͖̙͍̭̞͇̒͆̀͝T̶̢̧̨̝̺̺̿̑͆̀͋̎̅̓͘̕͝O̸̙͙̺̰͚͎̙͔̦͇͗̒̋͛̄͐̓̽̄͛́͂̀̑̕ͅͅͅP̴̘̤̯͙͐̔̍͊̑̏́̌̇̎̓̀͘, I̸̡̛̳͌̉͋͐͒̍T̶̢̧̨̝̺̺̿̑͆̀͋̎̅̓͘̕͝ Ḩ̶̳̣̮̻̪̜͍̹̭͓͍̳̼̈́̅́̄̍̀͐́̊̽͌̊̂͂͠͝͝U̴̡̥̱̫͕̞̐͂͒̑̽̋̐͊̈́͗̚R̴͇͌̀̆̍̽͝͠ͅ️T̶̢̧̨̝̺̺̿̑͆̀͋̎̅̓͘̕͝️S̴̨̛͇̺͇͕̟̘͎̗͖̙͍̭̞͇̒͆̀͝..

...

__

A buzzing sound fills Amne's ears as she came to. She found herself struggling to open her eyes, but considering how long it bad been since she found herself conscious again, she expected this to be rough.

What she didn't expect, however, was a voice calling out to Karyme.

"-Karyme-! Come on-! Open your eyes-!" A voice says, sounding as if it's underwater.

Amne finds that a bit annoying. Karyme hadn't mentioned anyone..

Oh my Selyna.. Karyme loved to be difficult..

That's why she took over. Karyme was an incapable, antisocial, and overall someone who shouldn't ever have been the main control.

Amne knew her way around this shitty world. She was a survivor, and the infamous Gris Angel, whom was known for bringing vengeance when it was needed.

Amne could go on, but gaining actual consciousness was the first step.

Finally, she manages to open her eyes. And the first thing she sees is a far too familiar face.

"Karyme?" Silas asks, looking concerned.

"..what the fuck.." Amne mumbles.

"..easy.. you hit your head.." Silas tells her. "Are you feeling fine?"

"..why is it so bright..?" Amne asks.

"We're in your cabin, Karyme.." Silas says, sounding confused.

"..can you not.?" Amne mumbles annoyingly.

"Not what.?" Silas asks.

"You know how I feel being called by that name Silas.." Amne tells him.

Silas stops. "..fuck.."

"Now what's up with you.?" Amne asks.

"..Amne.?" Silas asks, sounding unsure.

"What.?" Amne asks, sitting up.

Silas stands up, hands behind his neck. "Shit.. why did this happen now.."

Amne glares at him. "I expected a warmer welcome than this, to be honest.."

"Amne, what did you do.?" Silas asks. "You're not supposed to- fuck, you should be be in control-!"

"Karyme is.. out of commission.." Amne mumbles. "Dont worry, she's fine.. physically anyways.."

Silas groans. "Amne, you don't understand, if Krystal finds out.. what you are, then she'll expose everything-!"

Amne stops, looking at Silas wide-eyed. "..krystal..?" Her gaze darkens. "What the hell.. is Krystal doing here..?"

"Amne, it's been 21 years, Karyme and Krystal aren't-" Silas starts, but Amne tunes him out.

She stands up, and practically marches out of the cabin, Silas following close behind, trying to stop her.

"Amne, stop-!" Silas shouts, grabbing Amne and pinning her up against the wall.

Amne fights against his grip, glaring at him. "Silas, I swear to Selyna, let me go-"

"No, listen." Silas says coldly. "You've been gone for 2 decades, and you can't just come back and fuck things up."

"She's the reason Karyme died, and she's the reason I'm fucking stuck with her.." Amne growls.

"Amne, this isn't Celestial, you can't go around and hurt everyone you hate." Silas tells her.

"Silas.. let me go.." Amne mumbles.

"Amne, you need to listen to me-" Silas starts, until he's interrupted by footsteps.

Sam walks into the hallway, spotting Silas as he has Amne pinned against the wall.

There's a long silence, until Sam finally speaks.

"What the fuck."

__

"So let me get this straight.." Krystal says, her arms crossed. "That isn't Karyme.?" She says, pointing at Amne, who's standing far off.

Silas nods slowly.

"Then.. who is that.?" Krystal asks.

"She goes by Amne." Silas says.

"Amne.." Krystal sighs. "So she's a parasite?"

"I heard that, asshole." Amne says, glaring at Krystal.

"Then why are you here, Amne?" Krystal asks. "And what did you do to Karyme?"

"I'm here because Karyme.." Amne sighs. "She's.. running out of time.."

Sam stares at Amne. "The fuck do you mean by, running out of time.?" He asks.

"When we came together.." Amne starts. "Karyme's body.. didn't take it well.."

"She should've died.. but she didn't." Amne continues. "And since so much time has passed since that day.. she's getting closer to her death.."

Krystal sighs. "How do we stop it?"

"You can't." Amne says. "Karyme knew what would happen when she accepted me." She frowns. "It was her suicide, taking me on, and it's inevitable."

Sam glares at Amne. "There has to be a way-"

"Amne's right." Silas mumbles. "We can't do anything." He turns to Amne. "But what if we stop Sullivan?"

Amne sighs. "..there might be a possibility.."

"Then let's do it." Krystal says. "We stop Sullivan, we save Karyme."

Sam nods, and Silas sighs.

"Fine." Silas says, standing up. "To do this, we need a plan."

Amne gets closer to the group. "Of course we do."

She takes a deep breath, analyzing the three.

"Alright, lets get to work."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

[whump-side]

TWELVE DAYS OF WHUMPMAS || @amonthofwhump ❄A Partridge in a Pear Tree: Tied to a Tree

It's not a good sign if whumpee stopped shivering, right ?

[the11tailedwrites]

Nine Ladies Dancing

Prompt: Hallucinations, Forced to perform.

Characters: Leopold Vermillion, Julius Novachrono

Fandom: Black Clover

Tw/cw: adults being weird to a kid (but nothing sexual), pet-esc whumpee

@amonthofwhump

|

Leo was furious at himself. How had he, a member of House Vermillion, get himself captured? He was pathetic. Not only had he been captured, his captor felt the need to completely humiliate the young Vermillion. Leo had been forced onto his knees, in only a plain shirt and loose pants, besides the king of this land's throne. Mana suppressing shackles had been fitted around his wrists and ankles, and a collar was around his neck with a long chain held by the king of this other land. Leo felt a painful tug on his neck, and he was forced into looking at the king.

"You're a noble-born, are you not, kid?" sneered the king

"What's that supposed to mean?" Leo snarled

"You're taught to dance, no?"

"I will never dance for you," Leo sneered.

"Hm, are you quite sure?" the man's grimoire floated up to him, and Leo felt himself go rigid.

Leo felt his body move on its own accord as he rose. He felt heat creep up his face, and he tried to sit back down, but his body would not respond. The king clapped to draw the attention of the other nobles, and they all turned to face him.

"My noble pet here is going to dance for us while we wait for the Wizard King," said the king

The people watched him, and he walked to the center of the floor. He tried to stop; he wanted to throw himself out of the control of the magic. Nothing worked. He felt his body move through the familiar motions and his magic joined him as he danced. He had only ever danced with his instructor. Humiliation burned inside Leo like a flame. Finally, the dance ended, and Leo was gracelessly forced onto his knees by the king's throne. He felt his control over his body return, and he resisted the urge to draw into himself like a child.

The door swung open, and a knight walked in.

"The Wizard King is here," said the knight as Julius Novachrono walked into the room, a casual yet deadly look in his eyes.

"Greetings," said Julius, "I take it you know why I'm here?"

"I do, I do," said the king, "Sign the treaty, and the noble boy can be returned safely to the Clover Kingdom,"

Julius walked over, and the other king gestured for him to take a seat.

"You have your treaty ready like requested?" asked the king, greed in his voice

"Yes," said the Wizard King, placing a scroll onto the table

The king grabbed it hurriedly and signed it without even looking. Then he flicked his hands, and the chains around Leo snapped away. Julius gestured to him, and Leo scrambled up and hurried to the Wizard King's side.

"It was a good treaty while it lasted," said Julius

The king stopped his greedy laughter, face dropping.

"What?"

"If you read it, you would have seen that it states that once the young Vermillion is in my care, the treaty is null and void," he said with a closed-eyed smile, "Have a good day,"

Then he and Leo were by the border. Leo blinked and stumbled a little, but Julius stabilized him.

"Thank you, sir," said Leo softly

"Of course," said Julius with a smile

"Leo!" cried a familiar voice, and Leo glanced towards its direction.

Fuegoleon hurried towards him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Dammit, Leo, was worried about you,"

"Sorry for the trouble," whispered Leo

"It's not your fault, kiddo," said Fuegoleon, "Let's just get you home,"

Leo nodded as he silently followed his brother and the Wizard King far, far away from the strange new kingdom.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Right Now

CW: Political protest turns into riot, violence perpetrated against protesters, BBU-specific political violence, trauma response, PTSD. There is a bit at the end that echoes the aftermath of school violence, so stay safe.

For @amonthofwhump’s 12 Days of Whump Day 11: Sensory Overload

TIMELINE: During Chris's college years but before the Speak Out Arc

-

There’s some kind of protest happening on campus. 

Chris looks over across the span of green between the sidewalk he’s on and the Student Center’s main entrance, pausing with his hands on his backpack straps. He can’t even see the doors, there’s got to be like three hundred people over there. More than that. Maybe five hundred.

A thousand?

However many, he sure can’t count them.

Well, there goes my plan to get coffee before Theater as Collaborative Art, he thinks, a little disgruntled. It’s going to be hard to focus without like… a little caffeine. Maybe if he catches Dr. Ysabel before class starts, she’ll let him drink some of hers from the drip pot she keeps going all day.

It tastes scorched, but hey, it’s better than nothing-

The sound of the crowd - shouting, chanting at least two different things at the same time, someone with a bullhorn shouting back - makes Chris’s head start to hurt, derailing his thoughts. The protest is facing the other way, and he can’t really see what’s written on the signs. But if the noise is this loud and overwhelming from here, he can’t imagine being any closer to it.

“What, what, what’s going on?” He asks no one in particular.

A guy walking the opposite way down the same path, a couple years younger than he is, stops as well, shading his eyes with one hand. “Must be the thing about the football team.”

“What about them?” Chris blinks, turning away from the protest to look at the guy. He’s vaguely familiar, the way that people you see every day but never speak to start to be recognizable. He’s been behind Chris in line at the coffeeshop a bunch, and he’s definitely seen him at the library studying before.

The guy shrugs. “You didn’t hear?”

Chris gives a shy, almost apologetic smile. “I’m not-... not super into, um, football.”

“Yeah, neither am I, but this shit has been like… one hundred percent of the student TV channel news coverage?”

“Oh. I… haven’t been on campus much-”

“Oh, yeah, okay. Well, anyway, WRU made like a huge fucking donation to our football team. Like fucking enormous, but the strings are that they’re going to rename the building after the CEO. The football team all signed this statement refusing the money, but the admin of course is like, you’re just our athletes, nobody cares about your opinion, you’re just the moneymakers. Right? So then the football team is refusing to play until they give the money back, a bunch of alumni went nuts over it, everyody’s losing their shit. Even Vincent Shield made a statement, that actor who’s super into pet lib?”

“Yeah... yeah, I’ve, um, um, heard of him.” 

“Yeah, so. It’s all that lib shit. They’re trying to get the Dean to give the money back, he said no, now they’re screaming at him to resign and like… saying he belongs in prison for taking money from human traffickers. Plus, someone started a rumor that WRU like fucking abducted the people planning the protests. They turned up just in a normal jail cell but it’s been a whole thing. This girl Haukea set up a whole protest for today, this is just like… the first part.”

“The first part?” Chris brightens at that. “So, um, so, so all those protesters…”

“Oh, this isn’t even half of what’s supposed to show up to the real protest. Plus, there’s some kind of student walk-out tomorrow. I’ll do that, probably, but I’m not really a, you know, organized protest person? But I can tell my mom I just wanted to cut class. She’d kill me if I got arrested for political stuff or like… was too public about it. Bad for my future, or whatever bullshit.”

Chris thinks about how he was supposed to have a different future, once. Before… before whatever happened. Somewhere deep in the haze inside of him, there was a future that wasn’t like this. He swallows. “Well-... the, the, the pets don’t get a future, right?”

“Right. Right.” The guy grins at him. “You got it, man. If there’s this whole group of people just like us, but they’re not even getting the chance to, like… be people… what’s the fucking point of my law degree? Just to buy a big house?”

“Um. Prob-... probably? I, I, I mean from your mom’s-”

“She just doesn’t want me to get hurt, or like, wreck my career before it starts.” The guy rolls his eyes, with the easy, casual affection of a nearly-grown child with a mother he loves unreservedly and remembers without pain. Chris tries to pretend it doesn’t hurt to watch. “She’s really okay. This is just one of those things she struggles with, having, like, political opinions. I think she voted for the weather guy last year for President, you know? And my dad always votes for fucking John the Baptist or some shit.”

“But…” Chris hesitates, fiddling with one of his backpack straps, shifting the weight of the books and notebooks in there. “But, um. But you agree with the, um, the lib movement? The-... the libbers?”

“I mean, sure. Doesn’t everyone these days? Everyone under 30 or with less than a million fucking dollars in the bank, anyway.”

Chris remembers a confrontation, a credit dropped off his record, sitting with a grad student. He remembers a false apology given in a syrupy voice. But he manages a smile. “I, I hope so?”

“Yeah. I figure we’re like… ten years out from when everyone who matters is going to be anti-WRU. Maybe they can actually get some shit done about them, then.” The guy frowns, looking over Chris’s shoulder towards the crowd. “Hey, uh. Something’s going on with the protest, dude.”

Chris turns around to look again, and he hears someone scream. It’s long, drawn out, a sound that hangs in the air with a weight all its own. Even from here, he can hear the crack of something entirely too loud, and he steps back, his heart going still.

“Was that a fucking gun?” The guy asks, eyes suddenly wide, but Chris is shaking his head before he even finishes the question.

“N-No,” he whispers, but he knows what it was. “It’s-... a, a, a… a handler’s… baton. They, they, they turned the electricity on.”

“Oh, shit. WRU-”

The person on the bullhorn is yelling again, but no one is listening. There’s shouting, and the crowd swells, turning in on itself. Even from here he can see a punch thrown at the edges, catches sight of a handler’s uniform in the crowd, a snarling half-smile. 

“They, they, they’re fighting,” He whispers. His knees threaten to give out, demanding he drop, Position Two, pray that they’ll take mercy and see he’s not one of the defiant ones, that Handler Petrus will take him to hide somewhere or train instead of being punished-

He catches sight of a familiar head of silvered blond hair at the edge of the crowd, a uniform that he still sees every time he closes his eyes. He doesn’t need to see anything else to tell him it’s time to go, to run, to fucking flee, but his knees lock and he freezes in place. He can’t breathe.

 He watches Handler Petrus bring his baton down with a grin, hears the sharp crack, slightly delayed after the visual of the impact. The crackle of electricity fills his ears. 

There’s another scream - and then another, and another. Someone grabs at the girl Handler Petrus hit and pulls her away and back. She’s crying, her mouth a wide and horrifying O, and her friend pulls her close and turns. Even as Handler Petrus’s baton comes back down, it hits not the first girl but her friend, flat in the back.

They both drop to the ground, shaking, muscles jerking with the shock.

He can’t breathe.

He can’t move.

The crowd is growing, expanding, and Chris realizes only belatedly that it’s not getting bigger - it’s getting closer.

They’re running.

They’re running right at him.

His mouth opens, and he tries to tell them to stop, to go another way, but no sound comes out but a breathy whistle. He’s screaming at his muscles to do anything, anything at fucking all, but nothing happens.

“Oh, fuck, man, we gotta go,” The guy he’s been talking to says, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking, hard. Chris finally feels his muscles shifting and stumbles after him, tripping over his own feet.

It feels like only a second before they’re swallowed up in the crowd, jostled by people with handkerchiefs tied over their faces and hats pulled down even in the heat, showing only their eyes, pushed by girls in oversized sweaters and short-shorts screaming as their hair blows behind them, accidentally kicked by boys who are trying to protect each other and themselves by forcing their way past anyone slower than they are.

There’s this joke a guy I hooked up with told me once, Kauri had said one time, and his voice pops into Chris’s head, absurdly clear. The noise around him is deafening, but the guy never lets go of his wrist, his fingernails digging in hard enough to draw blood. The pain is the only clear thing in Chris’s mind. 

That, and Kauri’s voice.

What was the joke?

“Holy fuck, oh my god, oh  my god they can’t just do that-” Someone shrieks right next to his ear, and Chris whimpers. He can feel it in his throat but the sound is lost to the noise of the crowd, laying heavy over his skin like the wrong kind of light. 

“Keep running!” It’s the guy he was talking to, pulling hard when Chris starts to slow down, a pain hitching in his ribs with every breath, his heart pounding with panic and adrenaline. “Come on, this way!”

You don’t have to run faster than the bear chasing you, Kauri had said, his head cocked to the side, eyes sparkling. You just have to run faster than the other people you’re with.

Chris thinks, for half a second, that he sees Ben in the crowd, and catches sight of Mari’s unmistakable hair. He opens his mouth to call out to them, only to be slammed into by the entire body of a man who runs right over him when he hits the ground.

There’s a boot against his back, the weight of an entire human on his spine. It disappears but another takes its place, another, heels digging in. He can’t expand his lungs to breathe. He coughs out the last of the oxygen, and he tries to breathe and he can’t.

His lungs are screaming for air but nothing comes. He’s going to be trampled, he’s going to die, he’s going to-

The world gives a sudden lurching spin around him.

He’s back on his feet, gasping, gulping air, and looks up to find… the same fucking guy, gripped like iron onto his arms. “We gotta fucking hide, they’re fucking beating people,” The guy gasps. His face is chalk-white, the same color as the edges of his eyes.

There’s another spike of screaming, an it’s so loud, it’s so fucking loud.

“Wh, wh, what’s y-y-your name?” He whispers, and they’re shoved again. The guy doesn’t answer him, he just takes off to the side, yanking Chris along with him. They’re the ones pushing, now forcing their way towards one of the English buildings. The screaming is too much, it’s bouncing around inside his skull, and if it weren’t for the hand locked around his wrist, he’d just fall to the ground and curl into a ball and wait to be trampled.

They make it to the door, but when the guy pulls on it, it’s locked. “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me! Open and let us inside!” The guy bangs on the door with his free hand, in a fist, rattling it against the hinges. “Let us in! Please!”

Chris is humming, sound vibrating in his throat but drowned by screaming, by too much noise. There’s always screaming, down the white hallways, muffled behind the doors. He shakes his head, trying to shake it out of him, but it doesn’t get any quieter. He hums louder, rocking, but nothing happens, he can’t get it out of his head.

The door cracks open, and the guy throws himself forward, pulling Chris with him. It’s slammed shut again, and Chris drops to his knees, mouth open, the sound coming out of him less of a hum now and more of a whine.

It’s too much.

It’s too much it’s too much it’s too loud it’s so much noise and touch and fear and hate.

“Why’d you lock the fucking door?” The guy snaps at the people who let him in, who are already looking out the door, watching. 

There’s a sudden deafening banging on the door, and Chris lets out a soft cry of alarm, scrambling on all fours away, shoving himself behind a small padded chair and putting his hands up over his head, rocking back and forth.

“Because of that! The WRU people are trying to get into the buildings, too!” A professor is the one who answers, a woman with short hair with pink tips and a tweed jacket. Chris is barely aware of their conversation, clawing at his own head, trying to get out the buzzing static of noise and sensation. There’s at least twenty people crowded here in the lobby, huddled together. The lights are all turned off and the chairs and tables pushed up towards the door to create an easy barricade if they need to buy time.

There’s a pause, they’re watching the crowd run past. Someone whispers, “Now-” and the Professor pushes open the door, pulls a girl inside, the door slams shut again. The girl is sobbing, mascara running in dark streaks down her cheeks, and the professor pulls her close for a hug, brief and crushingly tight, before encouraging her to go further into the building, the others pulling her to them. Someone else hugs her, and whispers it’s all right, you’re okay, you’re okay, we’ve got you.

Chris looks slowly up. He can still see people racing past through the small vertical windows on either side of the door. 

One more time, he hears, “Now-... there’s three-” and the professor pulls three protesters in, one after another, one masked and two looking like other kids who got caught up just walking to class, before they even get a chance to knock. As soon as the door latches, there’s a handler, mouth open in a furious snarl, banging on the wood on the other side, trying to force the handle. The group screams, breathy, but the pink-haired professor gives the handler the middle finger with an expression of pure defiant triumph when he can’t get the locked door open. Her jaw is set.

“I’m not fucking afraid of you,” She says, and her voice doesn’t shake.

He slams his hand into the door again, and then turns, running back after the crowd. 

“Fucking bastards,” The professor spits. “Beating up people who need help. I hope they all rot in jail. Are we okay, everybody?”

“I-I think we are, yeah-”

Chris whimpers, and the guy from before - who has been standing frozen staring - jerks into motion and turns towards him. He drops into a crouch, reaching out, but Chris flinches violently back, blue hair falling into his eyes. At some point it had been pulled loose of his ponytail, and he realizes only belatedly that it’s hanging around his shoulders, tangled, a little bit sticking to the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, man.” The guy holds his hands up, palms-out. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“So… so, so, so so so much-” Chris says, tears running down his face and his voice rising, shaking his head, jamming his hands back over his ears. “So much, so, so much, so much n-noise-”

“Shut him up!” Someone hisses, but Chris can’t stop. He can’t stop the noises now, he just keeps humming, whimpering, trying to drown out the sounds from outside with the ones that come from within.

“Professor-”

“Take him to my office,” The professor commands, voice level and steady. “Left hallway, third door on the right, Dr. Underhill. Push the bookshelf in front of the door and don’t you dare turn the fucking lights on or open the blinds. The rest of you, go into every fucking room, just a few in each, okay? Not everybody in one, spread out. Close, lock, block the fucking doors, stay safe. I’ll stay here to let people in. When it’s over, I’ll come to the door and you’ll hear me say birdwatching goes both ways. Unless you hear those words, don’t open the fucking door.”

“Y-you listen to Nightvale?”

“Go!”

The small crowd scatters, except for one other girl who refuses to leave the professor alone. The two of them take back up their watch, shoving the door open to pull in any protestor who looks their way, slamming the door shut again behind them.

The guy pulls Chris back to his feet, ushering him down a dark hallway, into an even darker room. The darkness feels comfortable, soothing, reassuring. Safe. When the guy closes the door and pushes the bookshelf in front of it, Chris realizes he can’t hear much of the sounds from outside any longer. They’ve gone quiet, muffled by distance and thick window panes.

He drops to his hands and knees and crawls behind her desk, where he curls up again. 

His backpack is lost somewhere, he doesn’t know where he put it. He’ll look when it’s over. Whenever it’s over.

The guy comes around the corner of the desk and drops to the floor as well, sitting with his back to the wall, staring towards the door. His breath starts to slow down, go deep and purposeful, while Chris is still shallow-gasp fast. 

“My name’s Josh,” The guy says, eyes slowly closing. His wrists rest on his knees, hands dangling. His backpack’s gone, too. His forehead is shining with sweat. “You asked, earlier. I’m Josh Keller. Who’re you?”

223499, Chris thinks.

“Ch, Chris Stanton,” He whispers, pulling his plastic feather up, sticking in his mouth and closing his teeth around the familiar carved silicone vanes. The no-taste taste fills his tongue, chasing away the iron-taste of fear and his bitten lip.

When did he bite his lip?

His scalp aches, and he’s claws grooves into his scalp, he can feel it. He ignores that, too. There’s a long, long silence. Minutes move with impossible slowness, marked by the ticking of a clock up on the wall.

“Man, I just wanted to go to school to be a lawyer,” Josh says, and gives a bark of bitter, cynical laughter. 

“What, what are you going to do now?”

“Oh, I’m still gonna be a lawyer. But now I’m going to, like, design my whole career around making WRU fucking bankrupt.” Josh shakes his head, with a cock-eyed grin utterly devoid of any real humor. “Those assholes just used their fucking shock sticks on college kids.”

“Yeah.” Chris says, thinking, they use them on younger kids than that.

“So, how about you?”

“Wh, what?” 

“What’re you majoring in?”

“Um, theater,” Chris says, slowly starting to unfold. “I, I, I study set d-design? For, um. When we did the, the play last year, I-... I built some of the sets?”

“That’s cool, man.” Josh swallows, shivering suddenly. It’s a whole-body shudder visible right through his clothes. “Oh, shit. I gotta-... I gotta call my mom. She’s a news junkie, I bet she already knows-”

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he shakes his head. When he doesn’t answer it, it rings again. 

“That’ll be her. I’m going-... I’m just going to text her and turn it on silent.”

“I, I was already on-... I should check, um, my, my my my phone, too…” Chris’s fingers are shaking, but he manages to find his phone and pull it out of his pocket as well. His screen lights up as he tilts it up to look.

3 missed calls.

3 voicemails.

He can’t stand to put the phone up to his ear and deal with the weight of it, the noise coming directly against his eardrum. 

15 messages.

He checks those first. It feels easier.

Jake:

Chris I heard there’s a riot at your college what’s going on are you okay?

Chris?

Call me

Ben:

WRU lost their shit @ the protest today hope u r ok

Mari & I are in the Olderson Building

We’re safe

Call me

Dylan:

Hey man are you on campus right now shit is crazy

Call me

Laken:

hey are you doing anything for lunch today? There’s a new cajun place

holy shit chris don’t you have class right now please be in class please be in class

chris are you okay baby I love you call me please

Nat:

I’m sure you’re okay but please let me know you are

Please give me a call

“My… um.” Chris swallows. His throat is tight, and he talks around the chewable feather in the corner of his mouth. “My… my family is checking on, on, on me, too.”

Kauri:

Antoni and Jake are panicking please call me

He opens up a new message, realizes only when he’s ready to send that he’s got fourteen names in his Contacts that he’s sending it to. So many people, worried about his safety. His family. His eyes close against a new rush of tears as he types, and he presses SEND.

I’m okay. I can’t talk right now but I’m okay. Hiding out with guy named Josh. I’m not hurt. We got caught in it but we’re okay. Please don’t call me, we have to stay quiet. I love you.

He doesn’t see it, but one by one his friends and family - the people who love him - check their phones, let out a sigh of relief, and slump backwards. Jake pulls Antoni and Kauri both in for a hug, Kauri wiping tears from his eyes. Laken puts a hand over their mouth and stares out the window. Then, they pick up their phone and call their mother. 

Ben and Mari tip their heads together, and she puts her arms around him, where they hide with a group of other protesters in the back of a practice room in the music building. Dylan, sitting in his dorm room, exhales and looks back at the news, where footage of the riot is playing next to a news anchor who looks like he isn’t sure what to say.

At her house, Nat sits on the porch with her head in her hands, and only after she sees the text does she allow herself to start crying. Her shoulders shake and tears drip onto her blue jeans, darkening circles there that dry in the sun leaving only a hint of salt behind. 

By the time he calls her back, her voice will be steady and even, and there will never be a sign of how scared she was for him. She will come across as having always been certain he would be fine. She makes sure her rescues never know how scared she is, no matter what happens.

But she’s alone right now, so... so right now, she can cry.

-

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