#ailesswhumptoberday9

[tsubaki94]

9 Scar reveal/ Interrogation/ Presumed Dead

Ai-less Whumptober

[bloodsweatandpotato]

Day 9

Hypothermia, “You look pretty pale.”

Fandom: original work (chocolate bullet holes)

Characters: Listener (oc), Whisper (oc)

Tw: none?

Summary: Whisper and Listener wait out a blizzard.

Whisper hadn’t moved for almost an hour. The only sign he was even awake was the way his stare was occasionally broken by a slow blink. He leaned against the wall of the snow cave like he was trying to merge into it.

Listener shifted, rubbing his gloved hands together. “How you holding up?”

Whisper took a second to respond, dragging his gaze over to Listener as if he had just noticed the other man was there. “Hm?”

“You alright?”

“Oh. Yeah. ‘M fine.” Whisper hummed. He pursed his lips, frowning a little as they stuck together with the cold. “Any word on exfil?”

“Still waiting for the blizzard to wait up.”

“Mm.”

They were quiet for a while longer. The wind howled outside, and Whisper sighed quietly. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the past few days, being too busy on the mission. He closed his eyes, feeling his lashes stick together with frost.

“Hey. Eyes open.”

Whisper blinked, jolting a little. He hadn’t even realized he had been falling asleep. He shook his head, resisting the urge to rub his eyes with his gloved hands.

“You good?” Listener frowned.

Whisper sighed, flexing his numb fingers. “Yeah, yeah. Jus’ tired.”

“You sure? You look pretty pale.”

“Yeah.” Whisper moved to take his watch out of his pocket. “God, how- how long’ve we been ‘ere?”

“Two and a half hours, just about.” Listener replied. He watched as Whisper fumbled with the zipper of his pocket, struggling to grasp the little piece of metal.

Whisper fumbled with the pocket for several minutes, unable to get his shaking fingers to close around the zipper. “Fuck…” He dropped his hand to the snow, shutting his eyes in frustration. “C-can’t f-feel my fingers.”

“Frostbite?”

“Mm. Hope not.”

Listener moved, grunting as he shifted towards Whisper. “C’mere. Lemme look at you.” He gripped a glove between his teeth, slipping it off and pressing his fingers into the crook of Whisper’s neck.

Whisper sluggishly shifted to try and get away from Listener’s cold touch.

“Stay still. Trying to feel your pulse.”

Whisper grumbled quietly.

“Mm. A little slow. You’re probably hypothermic.”

Whisper sighed, leaning into the touch a little. “Makes sense. It’s f-fuckin’ freezin’.”

“Alright. Body heat. You know the drill.” Listener removed his hand, sliding closer to Whisper and leaning against him.

Whisper smiled a little. “Alright.”

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 9 - Whumperless Wednesday (Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.”)

"Torture-watching stuff-singing" - Universe

TW/CW: Creepy/intimate whumper, hypothermia, non-con touch (sfw), faux comfort/gentleness, manipulation, scared whumpee(?) Word count: ??

Leaving her in the partly filled pool, restrained, and with only swimwear and the windows open was an absolute dickmove! One that would most likely make her sick on top of that. Behind the gag Lyra grinded her teeth. That damn gag too-otherwise she could at least try to scream for help. Or fire for that matter, people never cared if someone else screamed for help...A violent shiver ripped her out of her thoughts, goosebumps covered every inch of her skin. The motion caused tiny waves to ripple and lick higher up on her body. The cold bit! Or at least it used to, by now she was already so cold and sleepy that she barely noticed it anymore. Briefly the proper terminolgy drifted into her paralyzed brain but she couldn't catch it. She depised feeling being so weak.

Packed with heated towels and a shit eating grin Adam had entered the basin hall. He was in swimming short and barefoot and wasted no time to put the towels down and climb into the basin, untying the half-conscious, wet Lyra and carrying her out of the pool. One of the rare times she got out of that hole. Adam carried her towards the girl's changing room, cold metal benches, tiled walls and floor, a broad mirror and many high-placed hair dryer. Carefully he set his dozy victim onto the floor onto the heatend towels, then sat down next to her. From an outlet he pulled a hand-hair dryer towards himself and Lyra, turning it on on medium settings and starting to warm up the freezing body in his arms. She was definitely hypothermic, exactly as planned. He smiled down at her, hungry. Barely open eyes, stiff from the cold and the bindings, goosebumps everywhere. So weak.

He just kept heating her up and drying the water off until she finally started to slowly came back to consciousness. Unfortunately for her.

Lyra's eyes fluttered open slowly, it was so bright, yet so unfocused. Blinking some more times finally drew clear lines into the frame of her view. And there was a good feeling besides the weakness and cold in her body. A gentle touch at her head and arms, subconsciously-before even knowing what it was she leaned into the touch. A dark soft chuckle sounds from above, the sound ringing alarm bells in her mind. Lyra's eyes sprang open and wide-eyes found Adam's face. She might have flinched but now her body was too weak. Instead she tried to pull herself away from him but with a laugh and a simply hand at her waist he could keep her in his arms. Stroking the exposed skin and half dry hair with a decieving gentleness.

"Oh no, no, stay here. There's no need for this to be unpleasant, is there?", Adam said his voice like honey. He cupped her cheek with a hand, thumb brushing right underneath the eye. The long, sharp nail moving just close enough to the eye to be primarily noticed by her. "You have no where to go anyway. So just stay here with me, let yourself enjoy this. Its nice after all, isn't it?"

Lyra closed her eyes against his triggering tone, but she couldn't close her ears. At the hand on her cheek she opened her eyes again and instantly saw the nail in front of her left eye. It terrified her. "It..Its not. nice. You're not nice.", she tried to shoot back but to her displeasure it signifcantly lacked fire.

"Naww.", he laughed. "But you're still stuck with me, sweetheart. I'm all you've got and just before you seemed to want my touch. Don't worry, you'll get much more of it, after all you're so weak like this. What can you even still do besides just surrender. And enjoy my touch and warmth." He smiled sadistically.

Lyra stared at him full of disdain but eventually averted her eyes. She hated how right he was. She could, and would, right it after she recovered. But for now...The damage would be done. She could only hope that she didn't get sick...

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober, @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt

[shywhumpauthor]

Ai-less Whumptober Day Nine

Scar reveal / Interrogation / Presumed dead

Yeah this sucks. Sorry.

Cw: torture, noncon touching (non sexual), manhandling, violence, mentions of vomiting/general emeto warning, vague thoughts of death (as a better alternative outcome)

“You’re wasting your time,” Sidekick coughed, their voice a breathless rasp that’s echoed around the small, cold room. Heat poured off of them in trails of crimson, dripping to the floor, little puddles of red blemishing the pristine white tile under their feet. Arms wrenched so far above their head by the chains they could barely reach the ground, left to either stand on their toes or hang and wrench their shoulders from their sockets.

It was as if Henchman didn’t even hear them. Not even a twitch betrayed their thoughts. Sidekick could only clench their jaw, and brace for a strike that came a moment later. Gloved knuckles slammed into their jaw, snapping their head to the side and knocking them back in their restraints. Their footing slipped and they fell, hissing at the strain against their shoulders as they quickly fumbled to right themself.

The taste of iron stung the inside of their mouth, burning all down their throat nearly enough to make them gag. Their vision spinning, they let their lips part and spit, more blood than saliva as it landed at the floor by the slowly growing puddle of blood. It dripped from their arms, little wounds torn in their wrists streaking blood down their arms to their bare chest. Ran down their back in small rivers, trickling from the lattice of gashes that split from their shoulders to the base of their spine.

The brutal kiss of a whip discarded not long ago, tossed aside once the task had become boring, Sidekick supposed. Henchman didn’t seem to stay entertained for long, with any of this.

Sidekick took a shaking breath through their bleeding lips, their nose so congested with blood they couldn’t breathe through it anymore.

A wave of vertigo rocked them back, their stomach crawling to the bottom of their throat, but they forced themself to take another breath, pushing the nausea down. Or maybe, they thought, why bother fighting it. They could feel the words, resting heavily behind their tongue, prickling like a nesting of thorns. If they choked to death on their own vomit, that would be one way to ensure Henchman never got the information they were after. It wasn’t the worst outcome Sidekick could foresee.

Henchman hadn’t spoken much. A few flat questions in the beginning, but they had dissolved to silence once they realized Sidekick’s will was much stronger than their skin, and set to breaking them down piece by piece. Cutting and punching and breaking any piece of them they could reach.

They weren’t prepared for the criminal to reach forwards, their gloved hand as brutal as another strike as they grabbed Sidekick’s chin, wrenching their head up with such force Sidekick feared for a moment that they’d snap their neck. They weren’t that fortunate.

“Poor, stupid little Sidekick,” they whispered, their voice startlingly quiet, nails pressing in to Sidekick’s bruised jaw as they forced the other to meet their eyes. “Don’t you know that I have all the time in the world?”

[therulerofallpotatos]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wednesday (TV 2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Wednesday Addams/Tyler Galpin, Wednesday Addams/Enid Sinclair, Tyler Galpin/Enid Sinclair, Wednesday Addams/Tyler Galpin/Enid Sinclair Characters: Wednesday Addams, Tyler Galpin Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Tyler Galpin Attends Nevermore Academy, Bisexual Wednesday Addams, Wednesday Addams is Bad at Feelings, Wednesday Addams is Soft for Tyler Galpin, First Love, Caretaking, Haircuts, Childhood Trauma, Bisexual Tyler Galpin, Tyler Galpin Needs a Hug, bi4bi4bi, Sheriff Galpin's A+ Parenting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Wednesday Addams is Whipped, Friends to Lovers, Pre-Poly, Mutual Pining, No Marilyn Thornhill | Laurel Gates, canon-typical bigotry, Protectiveness, Pack Dynamics, AI-Less Whumptober 2023 Day 9, scar reveal Series: Part 3 of Tyler Galpin of the Sinclair Pack, Part 7 of AI-Less Whumptober 2023 Summary:

Wednesday thought she might be falling in love with Tyler, and that terrified her to no end. In her attempts to shut it down before it’s too late, she ended up learning more about why Tyler was the way he was.

She was never going to recover from this.

Words: 1,632

Chapters: 1/1

[shion-yu]

Day 9 - Interrogation

When you get kidnapped this often, you have to get a bit of fun out of it. Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Rey - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23741197.rey. (What?? This isn’t a real interrogation? Oh well.)

Rey’s legs hurt from standing for so long. His arms were chained above his head in cuffs that were drilled into a brick wall so he couldn’t sit down. It was really pissing him off. 

“Tell me, Prince Allistor, how much do you think your parents would pay for you?”

Rey rolled his eyes. “How cliche,” he snorted. “If you really think they’d pay money for me you’re sorely mistaken.” 

The genuine look on Rey’s face startled his would-be torturer. He was an older man, bald, desperate to swindle as much money out of his interaction with the prince as possible. He growled, “What do you mean they wouldn’t pay? You’re their pride and joy.”

Rey gave a dubious bark of a laugh, throwing his head back as far as it would go being pressed to a wall anyways. “Please. My sister is their pride and joy. I was kidnapped for over two years and no ransom was ever paid. You’ll die waiting for the money.”

“What?! You can’t be serious.”

“You didn’t do your homework, did you?” Rey drawled. Felix had lectured him about taunting people who could kill him before, but that was boring. How could he not tease this guy, he thought to himself? He was so easy and amusing to anger, the way his bald head sweat with rage each time Rey said something so flippantly.

The man smacked Rey upside the jaw with a closed fist. It made Rey bite his cheek and he tasted blood, which he spit out to the side. “You little brat,” the man hissed. “You think I’m just going to let you go because your family won’t pay up? As if. You either get me the money, or you get yourself killed.”

Rey sighed. “You’re not very fun,” he said, pouting a little. “I hate people who are simple minded.” He was getting bored of this. The number of times he’d been kidnapped for ransom was no longer in the single digits and it had grown quite tiresome. Felix used to get genuinely upset about it. Now he just got pissed off as long as Rey didn’t get himself beat up too badly. “Felix? I’m hungry. Let’s get out of here.”

“Felix?” Rey’s kidnapper asked. He looked confused for the second before Felix came crashing down on top of him from the grate in the ceiling, flattening the older man in one go. Rey watched calmly as Felix stood and dusted himself off; must’ve been dusty in the shafts. If looks could kill, Rey would’ve been dead a long time ago.

“You idiot,” Felix muttered. He walked up to Rey and yanked the chains straight out of the wall, leaving Rey to drop to his knees automatically. The handcuffs were still around his wrists but he was no longer tethered to anything.

“Felix, take them off,” Rey whined, lifting his arms up to show the dangling chains. The brick was still attached on the other side of one of them. “They’re heavy.”

“I don’t think this place even belongs to this old guy,” Felix said pointedly. “I doubt he has the key, do you?” He glanced back at the man who was unconscious and had completely given up as soon as Felix had burst from his hiding spot. A lot of people gave up when they saw Felix. He wasn’t exactly gentle looking and the scowl on his face was terrifying - except to the younger man it was presently directed towards.

“You’re lucky I don’t chain you to me,” Felix said. “It’s really not that hard to not-get-kidnapped. Believe or not, most people don’t have it on their resume at all.”

“I’m exceptional. That’s why you like me,” Rey smirked. Felix just shook his head in exasperation. 

“You’re exceptionally lucky,” Felix snorted. “And exceptionally stupid.” Rey shrugged, denying neither claim. His stomach growled loudly. “Alright, let’s go get you some food.”

“I want pork buns.”

“Pork buns it is,” Felix said, walking out of the small warehouse with his charge next to him. Rey carried the attached brick in his hands like it was a completely normal thing to do. The chains rattled unpleasantly. Felix glanced Rey over, not seeing any obvious signs of injury. Rey also seemed particularly clear headed about it all and Felix gauged that he wasn’t taking any of this seriously. In a way, that was a good thing. Taking care of a few wounds was easier than dealing with a prince who went back into trauma mode and couldn’t remember how to do anything for himself. “How bad did he get you, anyways?” Felix asked.

“He hits like a girl,” Rey said.

“Your sister hits ten times harder than you,” Felix pointed out.

“I know,” Rey said. “I didn’t say it didn’t hurt.”

As they walked, Felix’s voice softened when he said, “Your parents didn’t pay a ransom because they didn’t know where the hell you were.” Rey hummed nonchalantly in acknowledgement. “Anyways, how come you’re so good at finding men who want to kill you but no women who want to marry you?”

Rey shrugged. “It’s a mystery, hmm?” The look on Rey’s face stirred something deep in Felix’s chest and he just led Rey along back to town without another word.

[whumpeewhumpwhump]

(AI-less) Whumptober Prompt 9: Scar reveal/Interrogation/Presumed dead

(Apologies for having the wrong date on yesterday's, didn't realize until just now lol. Here's a fun lil time with some more OCs from the book i finished writing earlier this year. Poor man going through it. Hope you enjoy!!)

~~

Prompt 9: Scar Reveal/Interrogation/Presumed dead

Ackerly grunted as his head snapped back, thanks to the punch Baul delivered to his jaw. He took a couple breaths and readjusted his position in the chair he was shackled to before he brought his head back up and glared at the man before him.

It had been 20 years. 20 years since Ackerly had faked his death and spirited two children away from the wrath of the new tyrant. For all those years, he had worked hard to blend in, to keep his charges safe—even going so far as to separating them when he first arrived to Sommersee. They had been safe for all those years, only for his hard work and planning to disappear in an instant. All with Baul, now the Right Hand to the King (King being used very loosely by Ackerly), appearing at his smithy with Ackerly's ward in tow.

He should have known that Sable would take after her parents, he had just hoped she gained the traits that would have kept her safe. The last thing he wanted was the stubbornness or curiosity. He couldn’t bring himself to blame her. Ackerly told her virtually nothing about who her parents were or where she came from, originally. Or even who Ackerly really was. All she knew was that he was her uncle and her parents were killed 20 years ago during the Coup and that Baul was to blame. 

Sable didn't know the danger, which was Ackerly's fault.

Another grunt as another punch drove into his stomach. He coughed and turned to spit up blood before resuming the position. Baul wasn’t alone, of course. In the dungeon cell stood at least four King’s Men, dressed in their maroon tunics emblazoned with the now royal seal of the Morrigan family--a Griffon. Outside of the cell stood the Prince who was accompanied by another guard that looked around the Prince’s age. Baul’s protege, Ackerly surmised. 

Baul’s protege stepped forward as Baul pulled back. She whispered something in his ear as he took a rag from one of the guards and wiped his hands. With a nod, Baul dismissed her and turned his head, “So glad you could join us, Princling. It’s about time you’ve learned something while you have me as your tutor,” Baul turned back to Ackerly, but still addressed the Prince. “Pay attention, Your Highness. If you wish to become ruler one day, you have much to learn,”

Without warning, Baul struck out and delivered two punches to Ackerly, one to his jaw and another to his stomach. Ackerly sat doubled over a bit longer, absorbing the pain. He wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction of hearing his cries of protest.

“Back to the questioning, then,” Baul continued. “Tell me. You and I both know the existence of this resistance you call the Schism. All I need from you is their location,”

This again. Ackerly couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in his chest. Despite the pain, despite the blood that seeped from his split lip and most likely broken nose, Ackerly laughed. “You know,” Ackerly said, voice raspy, “For a Right Hand, you really don’t live up to your predecessors. I already told you, I know nothing of this resistance,”

Baul nodded as he paced around Ackerly. Ackerly couldn’t help the spike in his heart-rate when Baul came to a stop behind him and placed his hands on Ackelry’s shoulders. Ackerly hid a flinch when the Right Hand squeezed uncomfortably. “You know,” Baul said, echoing Ackelry, “For someone at my mercy, you do tend to talk quite a bit. Unfortunately, your type of talking isn’t the kind I want. You keep playing hard to get. Pretending that you aren’t who I know you to be,”

Baul released Ackerly’s shoulders moved to Ackerly’s front in two strides. The Right Hand planted his hand on the back of Ackerly’s chair and settled until the two were almost touching noses. Ackerly couldn’t stop himself from leaning back.

“Admit who you are,” Baul growled, “and tell me where the resistance is based,”

Ackerly took a couple of breaths before he pulled back and spit in Baul’s face. He watched smugly as blood mixed with saliva slowly trailed from Baul’s eye. For a moment, Baul stayed where he was before he slowly stood up straight. His protege handed Baul his rag, which he used to wipe it all away.

Calmly, much calmer than Ackerly expected or wanted him to be, Baul nodded towards something behind Ackerly. “Martes, if you please,”

The hairs on the back of Ackerly’s neck stood as the presence of something appeared behind him. Ackelry strained to look behind him, only catching a glimpse of a shimmering cloak. Suddenly, a figure was standing right next to him. At first, it was hard to look at them. The cloak that they were bundled in shifted with the shadows of the cell, but that's what gave them away.

Ackerly’s heart started beating even faster. His breathing quickened. He had heard of people like the one that stood next to him. Fae-touched under the employ of the King. People with Blessings—rather, Curses—used nefariously. In this person’s instance, their Curse could be used for interrogation.

Ackerly had a dreadful feeling that he was going to figure out what this man’s powers were sooner rather than later.

He had expected Baul to make a threat first. Expected him to ask more questions, but Ackerly had made him much angrier than he had thought. With only a nod as a warning, the person—Martes—struck out a hand much faster than Ackerly could react. Their hand grabbed Ackerly around the nape of his neck and suddenly, his body was on fire. Every nerve in his body, starting with the nerves in his neck and spiderwebbing outwards, was alight with unimaginable pain. His entire body stiffened. His eyes widened, straining to pop out of his skull. 

For a moment, Ackerly couldn’t breathe. His lungs stopped working and yet sound still escaped him. Not screams, but a strained whine. Only when he remembered how to take a breath did the screaming start. 

Ackerly didn’t know how long Martes inflicted this pain on him. His vision came in and out due to the pain and the fact that Ackerly had them squeezed shut once the pain got to its peak. Once the pain did stop, though, Ackerly’s entire body went limp in his chair. His breathing came uneven and shaky as tears flowed unchecked down his cheeks. His muscles spasmed like he had been electrocuted. Everything still hurt.

“See how fun that is? A new toy, courtesy of the King.”

Suddenly, Baul was in Ackerly’s vision. Ackerly leveled a withering glare at Baul. It was all he could do. In another world, he’d be able to get out of his binds and take on the man in front of him. Another time. But he was old now. His body already felt tired and achy. Ackerly didn’t know how much longer he could hold out.

“You won’t tell me about the rebellion,” Baul said, “That’s fine. We can revisit that. You won’t admit who you are, which is also fine. I know another way I can prove it once and for all,”

Ackerly grimaced as Baul reached towards him. He was expecting more physical pain. More torture. Not for Baul to rip open the front of his shirt. Ackerly heard a gasp come from the Prince when he realized what had been revealed. 

“There it is,” Baul said. “Those friends of yours mingled with the fae, right? They must have driven themselves crazy trying to heal that. It’s nice to see that even with magic, I left you a reminder,”

Ackerly spared a look at his now bare chest. In the center was the scar he tried to ignore for 20 years. It was a large, jagged, star-shaped scar that rested right over his heart—a killing blow to anyone. He remembered the incident like it was yesterday. Baul in his prime ambushing Ackerly with four other goons. Ackerly fighting back as best as he could with what he had on hand, but Baul ultimately getting the upperhand and running him through with Ackerly’s improvised weapon—a dagger long shard of glass.

Ackerly was the first casualty of the Coup. Really, it was thanks to Baul killing him a day too early that he was able to accomplish what he did.

But Baul didn't know that.

The smile on Baul’s face was almost feral. “I really believed you dead all these years. My greatest victory. I killed one of this Kingdom’s untouchable Knights. I had heard whispers that you had survived, but I was a fool and dismissed it. It couldn't be true. I was the one to deliver the mortal blow. I was the one who watched the light die from your eyes. I was the one who put down the Terror of the Hill. Shame I couldn’t put my pride aside. But it’s no matter. I’ll be more than happy to kill you for a second time,”

A lump formed in Ackerly’s throat, but he breathed through it. If he was a distraction from Sable’s true heritage, that was fine. If he died and she survived, fine. 

But something in the back of his head tingled. The daughter of his best friends wasn’t going to let him die here. As much as he hated the idea of her marching into the Keep and breaking him out, the more and more he thought about it, the more and more it seemed the most likely outcome. 

And who was he to tell the daughter of the former Hands of the King what to do.

[bright-thehawksflight]

AI-Less Whumtober Day 9: Scar Reveal

Prompt: Scar Reveal

Fandom: Cyrano de Bergerac

Summary: Christian returns from Arras alive but broken. For the longest time he cannot bear the presence of his wife, cannot expose her to his new jagged edges. But patient love has a way of smoothing things out, like water. It is said that having a scar kissed by a beloved one can make the memory stop hurting. Will Christian have the courage to let his loves prove the truth of the saying?

@ailesswhumptober

[actualdickgrayson]

Day 9 for @ailesswhumptober

Prompt: Scar reveal

Is anyone even reading these? Lol

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 9 Scar reveal, Interrogation, presumed dead

TW/CW: Memories, trauma, interrogations, implied psycho terror, implied torture, Word count: 293

Come on, Thýma. Come on. What was it you were doing? What were you reading?  What? When? Why? Where? Who? Tell me or do I have to be a bit more convincing? I want to trigger all your senses. Focus on me. I heard 'friend' had a plan…Oh, and what is that? I‘m waiting. Lyra shook her head. It was one of these days. “Perks of being around a sadistically curious person, I guess.”, she mumbled to herself sarcastically. She just wished she could get the voice out of her head. Headphones didn’t help, not really. She hated questions by now. Always giving too long for everybody but Adam answers, flinching at innocent questions from their friends. She didn’t feel like her information were truly hers. In the beginning she had tried to resist. She still did. But she never lasted long…In the beginning she kept her mouth shut, but with ever cut. With every bruise. With every word and psycho terror her resolve crumbled away. And with every time it happened it took shorter. Until all he had to do was run a nail over her skin to make her talk. Lyra felt like throwing up. It was worse when she panicked. Then she couldn’t talk and Adam wasn’t exactly understanding of this fact. She got hurt more. Whatever her intention had been. She did her best to not shrink together at the shame. It wouldn’t happen again. Couldn’t. No. Stronger. Stronger every time. Improve, follow your rules. She could hear Adam’s laughter in her head and shook her head. If only she could shake it out. Her energy was getting low and at some point the memories and flashbacks drifted into sleep…

Stronger?

Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @ailesswhumptober