#dehumanization tw /

[auschizm]

Is that random persons odd behavior ACTUALLY threatening/dangerous, or is it just weird? Because we need to stop automatically conflating the two

[nerves-nebula]

todays comic brought to u by me doing enough of my homework to feel like i'm allowed this.

[thewhumpyprintingpress]

Your New Lab Rat: A Guide for Whumpers Scientists

CW: Lab whump, dehumanization, implied captivity, torture, non-sexual nudity, and restraints

Congratulations on your new lab rat! This is a big step in any scientist's career, and in this helpful guide I'll walk you through getting your subject prepared for experimentation. I know you're excited and want to jump right into the science, but trust me, the proper prep work is essential.

First things first, you need to call your lab rat something. The following are some of the most common names, but feel free to be creative!

Subject (my personal favorite)

Specimen

Asset

An ID number

Their species

Did you pick out a name? Excellent! The next step is to strip away the rest of their dignity. I know this might seem a bit harsh, but it's the best way to ensure your subject cooperates, and you need their cooperation to get that sweet, sweet data you're after. Take away all their possessions, even their clothes. You can give them some scrubs or a hospital gown if you want, or you can just leave them nude. If they argue or cry, just ignore them. There's always an adjustment period when a subject enters a lab, it'll pass quickly.

Your next steps will vary based on the temperament of your subject. If your subject is docile, you might not need to do anything further in preparation and can jump right into experimenting. However, some subjects exhibit aggression, which is unproductive to data collection. You will have to tame them. There are a wide variety of techniques that can be used, so consider the resources at your disposal. Note that you do not want to cause irreparable harm to your subject at this stage. Here's a list of popular disciplinary techniques to consider:

Shock collar

Withholding food, sleep, etc.

Isolation/solitary confinement

Stress positions

Sedatives

And of course, give positive reinforcement when your subject completes a wanted behavior. Most subjects are eager to please once they understand that they will be rewarded for cooperation. Your subject will be behaving themself in no time!

Finally it's time to start your experiments. Stick to the scientific method, and remember results must be replicable to stand up to peer review. That means that you'll need to run the same experiment on your subject multiple times, and preferably have other subjects to compare them to.

A note on safety: even the best trained subject can act out if in pain. I always recommend the use of restraints during experimentation for your own safety. Additionally, always make sure you are wearing the proper PPE. Gloves, safety goggles, lab coat, hazmat suit, etc. Make sure you protect yourself!

Science is hard work, but by preparing your subject beforehand it will be that much easier. Whatever your research goals, I wish you and your subject good luck!

If you decide to write your own lab rat whumpee, consider submitting to The Whumpboratory, our lab whump-themed anthology! Submissions are open until July 31, 2024. More info here!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

She Wasn't Sure She Believed Herself

Bleeding in Moonlight: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four |

CW: Werewolf whumpee, escaped whumpee with caretakers, referenced abuse, dehumanization by captors, and captivity

-

Anaya swayed lightly as she made her way up the steps. The front door to Vanessa’s house was painted the same deep shade of blue as the underside of the porch ceiling.

Between that and the fact that the porch was painted a flat and blinding white, Anaya felt a little like she was standing upside down in the ocean, a wave breaking beneath her and the depths of the ocean over her head. 

It was deeply disorienting.

Then again, maybe that was the sleep deprivation talking.

Every other house on the block was the same basic set of shades - gray house with black shutters, white house with gray shutters, pale yellow house with black shutters, another gray, a different white, light brown that was nearly beige, actual beige… Vanessa’s house, with all its dancing blues, had stood out like a beacon as soon as they turned onto the street. 

Eden was right behind her, one arm supporting Misae and his own eyes moving over the porch swing that moved gently in the wind. A small black cat sat on the swing, watching them with intense curiosity. Its tail flicked as it took in the sight of Misae. They’d managed to find an old hoodie of Eden’s and some of Anaya’s sweatpants for Misae to wear, and the boy looked absolutely swamped in the hoodie, hood pulled up to cover his face as much as he could and sleeves long enough to completely hide his hands. They couldn’t help his lack of shoes, but Anaya had managed to get some white socks on him and had decided to just hope for the best. He could limp, with support, and Eden had kept an arm around him, taking most of his weight as he slowly struggled up the steps. 

The boy’s face was white with pain, and his eyes kept dancing wildly trying to take in everything at once, but he stayed upright and he didn’t pass out again, so… Anaya called it a win.

“Why don’t you knock?” Anaya asked, nervously picking at her fingernails with her other hand, trying to calm her nerves. “You’re better at talking to people.”

“First off, that’s a gigantic lie. Secondly, she isn’t my friend,” Eden answered easily. This wasn’t the first time they’d had some version of a conversation like this one. She had the distinct sense that if he could, he would have shrugged. As it was, he was holding nearly all of Misae’s weight by now. “She’s your friend. You should knock.”

“I mean, I may have… I may have exaggerated how well I know her, a little bit?” Anaya found a bit of skin sticking out near her cuticle on her thumb and absently picked at it, staring down. “We just talk on the internet. I don’t even know exactly how old she is. I’ve never seen her face, and now I’m showing up with my boyfriend and a werewolf.”

“Hey. Look at me, baby.” She raised her eyes and found Eden smiling at her, weary but warm. She couldn’t help but smile back. “You’ve got a good sense for people, you always have. And you said she agreed to let us crash, right?”

“Yeah, she did. She said no problem, just…” Anaya looked over at Misae. “I might have not mentioned… him.”

The boy was staring at the cat now. The cat met his gaze with slitted pupils, ears slightly back, fur slightly raised. There was a flash of what might have been sharp teeth, the subtle whisper of a warning hiss.

Misae’s lips pulled back from his own teeth in tandem. 

Anaya stared with wide eyes as she realized his canine teeth were longer than they should be. When she looked down at his hands, she saw fingernails that stretched even as she looked at them, hardening into obvious claws even as his fingers started to thicken and turn blunt.

Was he... growing paws?

The cat turned and leaped gracefully up onto the railing and then down to the ground on the other side, disappearing in a flash around the side of the house. 

Anaya's eyes jumped back to Misae's face.

His lips were closed, and his hands had gone back to normal. Maybe she was imagining it?

“Maybe,” Eden suggested, tone irritatingly mild, “Maybe we all just stay calm and don’t bring the werewolf thing right off the bat.”

"... but did you just see-"

"Mmhmm. I know what I think I saw, anyway."

"You cannot possibly still not believe-"

“I didn’t say that I don’t believe it. Just, let’s not like fling that info around willy-nilly, Naya, yeah? And you, Misae, keep a hold on those teeth. We'll keep the wolf thing to ourselves for at least a little while. Besides, I flat out cannot drive anymore until we get some sleep. So…” Eden shifted a little and then gestured at the door. “Knock.”

Anaya took a deep breath, and turned around, stepping up to the door. Beneath her feet, a pale doormat read Welcome, witches and there was a sign hanging right at Anaya’s eye level: Live laugh lobotomize.

Right.

This was Vanessa. She had nothing to worry about.

Not that having nothing to worry about had ever once stopped Anaya from worrying. Camping had always been the only time she ever felt totally calm, and even that was a little ruined now. How many secret homes with hidden people kept like animals were there in the world, and she just didn't know about them?

The thought kept spinning circles when she tried not to think at all.

The door swung open just as Anaya's knuckles touched the door and she jerked her hand back in surprise. Behind her, Misae straightened a little, leaning against Eden while trying to look like he wasn’t hurt. His eyes kept shifting, as if he was trying to look everywhere all at once. 

God, they looked like such a mess. 

The wooden sign clacked as it swung forward and back, and Anaya’s first impression was of a pair of sparkling brown eyes. “I thought I heard voices,” Vanessa smiled. She was a tall, broad woman with a deep, melodic voice, totally unlike Anaya’s mental image of her. Her eyes matched her ponytail and she looked very much like every high school art teacher Anaya had ever imagined. Right down to the paint-splattered tunic and leggings. 

She took in the three of them in a moment, and then her smile widened and she stepped back and to the side. “Well, you’re clearly Anaya,” She continued. “It’s nice to see you in person for the first time. So, if you’re Anaya, then this must be the hottie boyfriend… Evan?”

“Eden,” Anaya corrected absently, still trying to connect this warm and soft woman standing before her with the acerbic, dryly sarcastic online voice she’d been chatting with for years. 

“Oh, right. Sorry, Eden.”

“That’s okay.” Eden shrugged, a shy smile playing around his lips, flushed a little still from hearing hottie probably. He was always weak to compliments. “Evan actually was on my shortlist for names, anyway, actually.”

“Oh, was it?” Vanessa’s eyebrow quirked up. “You’re not just saying that so I feel less like I just face planted into a mud puddle in public, are you?”

Oh, okay. Now that was the Vanessa that Anaya knew so well.

“Ha, no, it really was. But then I thought of Eden, and, well, I just… liked it better than all the others.”

“Well, I like Eden better, too. It fits - you’re clearly paradise on two legs.” Vanessa winked, and Eden turned tomato-red. Anaya felt herself nearly knocked over by a wave of something between her usual full-throated adoration of her awkward boyfriend's struggle to take a compliment and relief that things were going so well when she’d been so scared they wouldn’t. Vanessa laughed, her laugh as mellow as everything else about her appearance. “Seriously, though… come, come on in, all of you.”

Anaya’s pulse jackhammered in her throat and at her wrists as she stepped forward, moving from the sunset light outdoors into the darker house. The first thing she saw was a wall painted a beautiful deep evergreen, a wall of a dozen or so pieces of framed artwork that had every rainbow shade and probably a few colors Anaya had never even heard of. Side lamps were lit everywhere, and a ceiling fan turned lazily overhead. This looked like somebody's perfect cozy escape from the world.

Anaya wondered how it would feel, to have a home like this. Somewhere that you owned outright. She and Eden had always been renters, and half the time these days they lived out of Eden's car.

“So… there’s you two, and there’s also… who is this you have with you?” Vanessa asked, voice lilting just a little in curiosity. “A brother? Cousin? What’s your name, honey?”

Misae didn’t answer. His chin had lowered, even though his eyes were locked on Vanessa now, watching her every movement. 

Anaya cleared her throat. “This is… um, this is Misae. We… met him on the trip.”

“Oh, okay. I knew you were camping this weekend in Idaho, so… oh, that’s why you texted me for somewhere to stay? Because of meeting him?” 

“Yeah.” Anaya tried to keep her voice casual, unruffled. “He just needs a safe place, he, uh… He r-ran away from home.” It was close enough to true. Really it was true, she just… left out a few minor details. He was being hunted by a man with a gun and oh, hey, he also turns into a wolf. That’s not a problem, right? “I know I didn’t mention he was with us, and I'm so sorry. We will completely understand if you don’t want to deal with-”

“Hey, I didn’t say that.” Vanessa raised her hands, as though showing she was harmless. Or thought they were. “It’s definitely not a problem. I just wasn’t thinking about you needing more than bed. Seriously, it is no problem, I can blow up the air mattress for an extra bed.” 

“Okay, okay, thank you so much, Vanessa. We’ll just get settled, and if you could tell us where the shower is-“

“Oh, honey,” Vanessa interrupted. “Are you hurt?”

Anaya opened her mouth to reply, but realized Vanessa wasn't looking at her at all. Vanessa moved towards Misae, hands out.

To Anaya's horror, Misae recoiled, snarling with lips pulled back from his teeth, before he lost his balance, trying to catch himself and accidentally putting too much weight on his injured leg.

His knee buckled, and he went down hard, losing his balance with a high-pitched cry, somehow ending up turned around and falling right off the steps onto the stone path that led up to the porch.

He desperately grabbed at Eden's arm to try and catch himself and instead pulled Eden down with him.

Eden grunted when he landed hard on his left elbow, but he had the good luck of falling a little to the side and landing in the grass. Misae smacked down into concrete, catching himself with his hands but Anaya watched his ankle twist in the process.

His whine turned to whimpers, deeply canine. He hunched his shoulders and curled up, still snarling and making a sound somewhere between whimper and growl, and Anaya wondered if everything she hadn’t said about this strange boy was about to spill out anyway, whether she liked it or not.

When Vanessa took one more step forward, Misae snapped at her from where he lay, teeth clicking together sharply. His canines were growing again.

Anaya tried to think of an explanation - something logical that didn't involve breaking the news that at least one totally mythological creature had turned out to be absolutely real - but nothing came.

She only stared with her eyes and mouth both wide.

“Oh, shit,” Vanessa whispered. She didn't seem to have noticed Misae's teeth changing, and Anaya was hit with relief that cut as sharp as any knife. “Oh. I am so fucking sorry, I didn’t-... I didn’t mean-” She moved again, and Anaya caught her by one arm. Tears welled up in her eyes as she turned. “I swear, Anaya, I didn’t mean to scare him!”

“No, I know, he’s just… really jumpy about people who move too fast,” Anaya soothed, watching as Eden moved to Misae and murmured to him. The boy's expression gradually changed and he shook his head, eyes down and hair covering as much of his face as he could manage. At least he stopped making that face. Eden nodded, murmured something not quite audible in reply, and very slowly reached out. 

Misae sat back, holding his hands palms-up, letting Eden take them in his own hands to look them over. Blood welled where skin had been scraped away by catching himself when he fell. 

Misae looked up through the curtain of his messy hair, watching Eden's face. Anaya swallowed hard as she saw a spot of red where she knew the bandage was on Misae’s leg. Was that damn wound ever going to stop bleeding?

“He got used to getting hurt where he lived before,” Anaya said in a low voice, keeping her hand on Vanessa to keep her from potentially scaring the poor kid all over again. She told herself she wasn’t lying - those scars Misae was covered with, hidden thanks to Eden’s shirt and Anaya’s sweatpants, proved that pain had definitely been something Misae understood very well indeed. Maybe the only thing he seemed to understand. “It’s made him jumpy. Let’s, um, let’s go inside and then Eden and Misae can come in after us?”

Vanessa slowly nodded, reluctantly turning away. “Okay. I really am so sorry.”

“It’s totally fine,” Anaya said. She had no idea if it was fine or not. The words just came out automatically, an instinctive reply to try and soothe the unsettled air around them. “He’ll be okay. We’re just trying to get him far enough away that he feels safer.”

“Yeah. I can… I can see why.” Vanessa seemed to remember this was her house and straightened up a little. She shot one more hesitant glance over her shoulder, and then led Anaya through a small living room stuffed with too many hand-me-down couches draped in deep brick-red covers and throw pillows and blankets, into a small hallway with four doors. “So, we have… a linen closet, towels are in there-” She pointed at the first door. Then, across the hall, the bathroom with a tiny shower-bathtub, a toilet, and a sink and mirror. “My water heater isn’t great, but if your showers are fast they can be hot. Otherwise, you might have to settle for more or less warm. And here, right here-” She opened the last door on the left. “This is the guest bed. I’m sorry there isn’t more space-”

“It’s perfect,” Anaya said, forcing her voice to brighten up. Her mind wandered back to the boys outside. “We’ll get settled and get clean and then, if you don’t mind, we might just want to like… nap for a while.”

“Not a problem. I have some work to finish up, anyway.” Vanessa smiled, even as she still looked a little worried and guilty. “Any requests for supper? I’m afraid delivery in this neighborhood isn’t happening, but I’ve got some frozen pizzas and garlic bread, or I could make pasta and sauce, or… if anybody’s low carb, uh, I could run to the store for steak or something…”

Anaya thought of Misae’s thin face, wiry arms, knobby knees, the way his stomach pulled in too much, how he swam in clothes that shouldn't have been oversized. The way his eyes seemed to sink a little into his face. “Um… No, carbs are definitely a good idea. Pizzas?”

“Okay. I’ll get the oven preheating. You three just… you get settled. Let me know if there's anything you need or you can't find.” Vanessa disappeared back out the door and Anaya stepped further into the little room.

There was a side table with a little lamp and she switched it on, absently. It gave the little room, walls painted blue, a cozy glow. She dropped her backpack onto the fluffy oversized comforter - clearly made for a king-sized mattress but laid out over the queen-sized bed - and sat down, slowly leaning over with her hands over her face.

She was so tired.

At least Vanessa had been a lot less bothered by the sudden appearance of two disheveled adults and one teenager than Anaya had expected, but the last bit had clearly thrown that initial lack of bother away. Now they not only had a teenage runaway with them, he was visibly injured and he’d reacted to Vanessa attempting to touch him in a way that made it equally clear he hadn’t come from anywhere good. Plus, the noises he'd made, the way he snarled and snapped like an animal... If Vanessa got too curious, or decided to call the fucking cops... Anaya didn't know why exactly, but she knew that would end badly.

A throat cleared in the doorway and Anaya looked up. Eden stood there, smiling a little, Misae leaning against him again. The boy’s eyes darted around, never landing on any one place for long. He’d been limping before - now he was flat out hopping on one leg, using Eden to keep himself upright. His injured leg was pulled slightly up. 

“He’s okay,” Eden said, in a tone that said he was soothing them both. “Just a little scrape on the hands. I’ll get my kit from the car, we’ll get him a good shower and then I can bandage him up again.”

“Good.” Anaya breathed the word out. Even that felt like it took more energy than she really had left. She hadn’t realized how hard she was working to hold herself together until she didn’t really have to any longer. 

She wanted to sleep for a week.

Maybe a month.

But she’d settle for patting the bed next to her. “Misae, why don’t you just come over here and lay down for a minute with me, okay?”

Misae’s eyebrows briefly furrowed. He licked at his lips - something Anaya was realizing he did almost compulsively when nervous - and then slowly shook his head. “Not allowed,” He said, voice low. He sounded a little confused.

“What? Why? Because you’re bleeding?” 

Misae stared at her for a few long seconds, then shook his head again. “No. We're... not allowed on the furniture.”

Eden’s eyes closed, tightly, for just a second. Anaya watched a vague flush of anger move over his face and be just as quickly pressed down and done away with. She knew what she was seeing, though, and knew Eden would smile soft and sweet even as he turned that over and over in his mind all night long. The same way Anaya would.

Not allowed on the furniture because he's been treated like he’s a dog.

“Well, here you are allowed on the furniture, and I’m saying you should lay down on the bed and get the weight off that leg. Okay?” She patted the bed again. This time, Misae hesitantly nodded and let Eden support his slightly absurd little bunny-hops forward until they made it close enough for him to more collapse than lay down. Misae curled himself up as tightly as he could, arms tucked against his body and only his injured leg out straight, the other one curled with his knee nearly to his chest.

"Oh," He whispered, eyes wide.

Anaya blinked at the look of surprise on his face, and tilted her own head as she looked down at him, slipping a firm pillow beneath his head only for his eyes to widen even further. She fought back a faint smile, worried he might think she was mocking him. “What’s that look for?”

Misae swallowed, those strange golden-brown eyes shifting to meet hers. He returned her smile. “I didn’t know beds were so soft,” He explained. “I’ve never been in one.”

Anaya couldn’t think of a single thing she could possibly say to that.

Eden backed away from them. “I’ll go get our things from the car and then I’m just going to get right into the shower,” He said, voice tight and hard, and turned away, closing the door a little too hard behind him as he went. 

Misae winced when the door shut with a loud thunk, shifting until the top of his head just brushed against the side of Anaya’s leg. She let her hand drift down to run fingers through his hair like she had while Eden stitched him up in the car - oh god, that was less than twelve hours ago, somehow it felt like so much more time had passed than that - and the boy breathed out in something that seemed like pure pleasure, eyes fluttering shut. 

“He’s angry,” Misae said, voice low. Just above a whisper, a little hoarse. "At me."

“He's angry, but not at you," Anaya replied, shifting until her back was against the headboard, keeping her fingers sifting through soft strands. Her own eyes closed and she could feel her exhaustion weighing down every corner of her mind. “Definitely not at you. Just at… what it seems like life has been for you. It’s not going to be like that for you anymore, okay? We’ll figure out how to find some place better for you.”

Misae didn’t reply.

Anaya knew that he was silent, this time, not because he had nothing to say in response, but because he didn’t believe her. 

She wasn’t sure she believed herself.

-

@finder-of-rings @burtlederp @deluxewhump @scoundrelwithboba @shrimpwritings @yassifiedinformation @wildfaewhump @whatwhump @honeycollectswhump @tundra-tiger @dont-look-me-in-the-eye @there-will-always-be-blood

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1306

Anon asked:

Do you have any collars and dehumanization prompts?

I have a couple:

“Hello, pet.”

The whumper removes any instance of the whumpees names/nicknames. They are just ‘pet’ (or whatever else the owner wants to call them.) They’re not even called ‘blue eyes’ or ‘blondie’ etc.

The collar is one of those barbed ones, or a loop leash that tightens if the whumpee strays too far.

Maybe they’re kept at the whumpers side - forever forced to crawl by them/sit on their haunches.

It takes a long time for them to learn the behaviour… and it'll take even longer for them to unlearn it when they’re rescued.

The whumpee could eventually turn feral - taking on characteristics of a pet.

Maybe the whumper has a ‘pack’ of pets - I can imagine the new addition being unwelcome/being forced to fight for their food.

They’re fed in a bowl on the floor.

If they’re good they’re given treats (small biscuits, scraps of meat etc)

Over time, they feel anxious if they don’t have a collar around their neck. At first it’s claustrophobic, but then they feel too exposed without it.

[chickenkurage]

"Muzzled" (CS!Alan Art)

Oh poor Alan, he's having such a hard time :((

I wonder what will happen if the hollow heads go against him, hmmmmmmmmmmm.......i wonder....

Anyways! Read the recent posted chapter here! :D -> Chapter 15

If you guys have any question about this AU, just ask hehe. But let's first appreciate JMLilac's amazing art :33 - S

[whumpy-writings]

Sold

Of Vampires and Men Masterlist

Takes place between Recollections and The Blood Market

CW: Vampires, slavery, verbal abuse, dehumanization, restraints, scars, non-sexual nudity, anxiety, panic attack, multiple whumpers, multiple whumpees, carewhumper

Master's man, Jerel, bound 023's wrists in front of him with coarse rope. 023's breath caught in his throat and every inch of him trembled. He was being sold. After everything Master had put him through, after the years of torture and abuse, after his final, desperate, escape attempt, Master was throwing him out. Like a toy that he had grown bored of.

"Cut that shit out," Jerel snapped. 023 tried to steady his breathing, he tried to stop the tears that were flowing down his face. Jerel grabbed 023's arm and hauled him up the stairs.

He led him through the house right to the door, opening it to reveal a calm, warm summer night. A carriage was waiting. Jerel settled himself on the seat and forced 023 onto his knees on the floor.

023 had a sudden flashback of the last time he was in a carriage. When he was first delivered into this hell. He couldn't suppress a strangled whimper of fright.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a bloodbag," Jerel said. He rapped on the ceiling and the carriage started to roll. "Radford knows that he won't come anywhere close to making a profit on you. He won't even break even. But he dosen't want to look at you anymore." He grabbed 023's chin. "You've really fucked up, 023. Radford can overlook many flaws, but he can't overlook disobedience."

"I-I'm sorry," 023 whispered.

Jerel rolled his eyes. "It's a little too late for that. Blood merchants are in town, so we're getting rid of you. Though I don't know if they'll even buy such an ugly fucker."

He leaned over and smiled at 023. "But if they do buy you, there's so many places you can be sent. I personally hope that you're sent to a university. The scientists there are always looking for fresh humans to experiment on. After all, test subjects don't last long."

"Or you might end up with another private owner. I'm sure you would like that. Another owner to disrespect. Most owners aren't as patient as Radford. I know if I was your owner, the first thing I'd do is cut out your tongue so I wouldn't have to listen to your pathetic pleas." 023 closed his eyes and swallowed the cry in his throat. "Wherever you end up, I hope that it hurts. That's what you deserve."

The carriage rolled to a stop. Jerel opened the door and gestured for 023 to follow. 023 struggled to his feet, his legs shaking so hard they could barely support his weight. Jerel grabbed 023's arm and led him toward a table.

"I have a human for you," he said. The vampire at the table had a bored expression.

"Strip it," he said.

023 didn't have a shirt, so Jerel grabbed his trousers and pulled them down. 023 felt a twinge of shame, but he was too scared to feel more than that.

The vampire behind the table stepped in front of 023. He grabbed his chin, turning his head left and right to examine his neck.

"What's with these wounds?" He asked, tapping on the long, twin scabs that ran from 023's ear to clavicle.

"He tried to escape, so his owner taught him a lesson," Jerel said.

The vampire's eyes narrowed. "Is that so? Have you learned your lesson, bloodbag?"

"Y-yes sir," 023 said shakily. "I won't try to run away again."

"Good. Open your mouth."

023 did as instructed. He barely stopped himself from flinching when the vampire reached his fingers into his mouth. He prodded at his gums.

"His teeth are good," the vampire murmured. He withdrew his fingers. "Unbind his wrists, I want to see them."

023 looked at the ground as his wrists were untied. The vampire grabbed his arm and looked at it. "Lots of feeding scars. That'll affect his value. And what's this brand?"

"Just his identification number, 023. He was surplus army property."

The vampire nodded. He walked around 023 in a slow circle.

"Any illness or major injuries?"

"He's had a few broken bones. All have healed well."

"How's the temperament?"

"He's not aggressive, but quite skittish. He's inclined to anxiousness. He's obedient though, for the most part."

The vampire sighed.

"I'll offer you 500 for him."

"500!" Jerel sputtered. "That's ridiculous. He's worth at least 2,000."

"There's no profit at that price. Best case scenario, I get 1,500 when I sell him to a dealer. Worse case, I get 300 at a blood butcher. All the scars show how much he's used up. Nobody wants to pay that much money for used goods."

023 eyes burned with tears of humiliation.

"I can't let him go for 500. He's still in his twenties, there're plenty of years left in him. 1,400?"

"I'll take him off your hands for 1,000. As a favor. Take it or leave it."

"Fine. It's a deal." They shook hands.

"Get dressed," the vampire said. 023 pulled up his trousers and wrapped his arms around himself. The vampires discussed the details of the sale, but he wasn't really listening. Master didn't want him, the merchant didn't expect to make any money on him. He really was a worthless, pathetic bloodbag.

"Come with me," the vampire ordered. 023 followed him to a wooden building. He opened the doors and walked in. 023 followed, and immediately his eyes watered from the stench of unwashed bodies. In the dimness, he could just make the huddled shapes of about a dozen humans. The vampire led him to a wall. "Kneel." 023 knelt and the vampire pulled on a metal chain attached to the wall. 023 let the vampire clamp the shackles around his wrists. Without another word, he left.

...

The ride to Tervis was bumpy and uneventful. Now, 023 sat in a room with all the other humans waiting to be sold. This was an invitation-only sale where those involved in the blood industry came to buy humans. There were vampires who made human food, like bakers, in attendance, as well as those who ran blood cafes, or had their own private human selling businesses. 023 hadn't known there were so many vampires involved in the human business, but he guessed it made sense.

"I heard that the blood butchers are the worst," one of the humans whispered. 023 hadn't bothered to learn names. There wasn't any point. "You're kept drugged on venom and bled every single day. Most humans don't last more than a month. The blood butchers come around at the end of the sale and buy up whoever is left for a discount."

023's chest tightened. He didn't want to go to a blood butcher. Or the university. He didn't want to be hurt anymore. He had overheard one of the humans talking about how some humans were purchased by vampire business owners to help out with various tasks, in addition as acting at bloodbags. That sounded nice. If he was expected to work, his new master probably wouldn't beat him too badly.

The dealer, Denis, approached with a well-dressed vampire and a human. The human looked ... good. They were clean, with well-maintained clothes. A leather collar encircled their neck.

"As you can see ma'am, we have a wide variety of humans for you to select from. Any of them would be an excellent addition to your bakery." 023 sat up a little straighter. The vampire baker looked kind. He would gladly work for her.

"What do you think, sweet?" She asked her human. "Do you see anybody you'd like to work with?"

Her human bit their lip. Their eyes swept over the humans, until they landed on 023. His heart skipped a beat. He locked eyes with them, silently pleading. Please. But they gave a tiny shake of their head and moved on to the rest of the line. 023 muffled a sob. He didn't know what he'd done wrong. The baker's human picked someone else, and 023 didn't have the heart to watch as they walked away.

023's stomach was twisted with fear. The night would be over soon, and he still hadn't been sold. He didn't want to be bought by a blood butcher, he didn't want to be bled to death.

Every muscle in his body tensed as Denis approached with another vampire. Was this the blood butcher?

"As you can see, Rackham," Denis said, "we have plenty of humans to choose from. This one right here has never been bitten."

Rackham nodded. "My clients like fresh humans. Do you have any others?"

023 deflated. This vampire was probably some sort of human dealer or cafe owner. Of course he wouldn't go for a scarred human.

"That's it?" Rackham asked. "I was hoping to get a couple more. If you don't have any other fresh ones, bitten is fine. As long as the temperament is good." 023 felt a spark of hope.

Denis nodded and pointed out a two other humans. "And then we have this one," Denis gestured at 023. "He's obedient but has fits of anxiety. I'll give you a discount on him."

Rackham looked at 023. 023's palms sweated and it took all his strength to stop his body from trembling. Rackham walked over to him and crouched down. His looked over 023 from head to toe.

"You've been through a lot, haven't you?" he said softly.

023's throat was dry but he forced himself to nod. He couldn't contain his shaking anymore. Fuck. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Rackham was saying something, but he couldn't hear him. He was dying. He couldn't breathe and he was dying and he was going to be hurt-

A hand landed on his shoulder. He snapped his eyes up to Rackham. "Ple-please sir," he gasped. "Please don't hurt me."

"You're okay, I'm not gonna hurt you," Rackham said.

"I'm sorry," Denis said. "I have a couple other options for you-"

"No, I'll take this one," Rackham interrupted. "Thank you."

023 stared at Rackham with wide eyes. His heart pounded and tears coursed down his cheeks. The panic attack had him fully in his clutches.

"Are you sure?" Denis asked.

"Yes," Rackham said decisively, standing up. "He seems like a sweet human. I'm sure that once he's settled in with an owner his anxiety will calm down."

023 could barely comprehend what was happening. But as his panic dulled from a roar to a whisper, he realized that Rackham and Denis were shaking hands.

Rackham had bought four other humans in addition to 023. Denis secured each humans wrists before leading them to Rackham's waiting cart. 023 stumbled as he followed the others.

"Woah there," Rackham said, grabbing him around the waist before he fell to the ground. 023 suddenly found he didn't have the strength to stand. He went limp in Rackham's arms, struggling to stay conscious.

"Poor thing. Let's get you to your new home."

Taglist: @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whump-cravings @thecyrulik

@neverthelass @whumpsy-daisy @the-monarch-whumperfly

@aswallowimprisoned @secretwhumplair @whumpzone

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @nicolepascaline @susiequaz12

@itsleelove @pumpkin-spice-whump @wiwinia

@sunflower1000 @whump-blog @melancholy-in-the-morning

@suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpsday @ceph-the-ghost-writer

@inkkswhumpandstuff @whumpycries @darlingwhump

@whumpshaped @dragonqueenslayer6

Ask to be added or removed!

[punkeropercyjackson]

Hmmm,yeah no if you're not a sa survivor and you have a c.nc kink you're a bad person in the same way a racist having racist mentality is a bad person even if they don't 'actually' do hate crimes and 'their black friends said it's okay to do that to them specifically' and 'only have thoughts' and i'm using that comparison because antiblackness and sa have a deep rooted inherently intertwined history,including that every kind of 'dark homoeroticism' on here has been used on black people(sex slaves,whites eating black flesh out of not seeing us as human,forced incest/inbreeding,csa played as forbidden romance,etc).If you're a sa survivor who developed a c.nc kink as coping,that's morally neutral and you shouldn't be made to feel bad over it but also you need to know how to act,ESPECIALLY if you're on the older side and cyberbullying even just with vagueposting sex repulsed sa survivors is sexual harrasment.Sa has always been an act of bigotry,be it the antiblackness i mentioned or the entitlement to 'punish' transgender bodies or to 'teach' unconsenting mentally disabled people 'what they should know' or one of the countless other bases it covers.Those 'thought crimes' were present in them white american soldiers who got comfort women out of what they thought asian women were and to them are supposed to be like too.Trying to tie sexual aspects of any kind to ANY minority is harmful stereotyping,even if it's 'good faith'.Think before you kink.Sexual liberation is supposed to be for the ones who fuck nasty,not the nasty fuckers

[firapolemos05]

Have I mentioned that I love Gajeel whump? Yes? Good.

"Damn beast nearly bit my arm off!"

"I'm surprised the legal guilds even allow monsters like that into their cities."

"Well if he's going to act like an animal, might as well treat him like one."

Whumptober 2023

Day 24

"A mouth full of ridicule."

(In which I am very mean to my favorite blorbo.)

[auschizm]

I feel nothing but disdain for "just because I have X doesn't mean I'm like THOSE people" advocacy, because regardless of details, it's not like "those people" are ever more deserving of ableism, demonization and dehumanization than you are

[vulgrados-best]

OFFSCREEN POST

Happy Birthday, Miguel

// TW Violence, Bullying, Dehumanization

Place: Tagtree Forest Date: September 18, 2024 Time: 5:45 PM

Another race. It had been a little over a week since the last one. Everyone was raring to go.

It wasn't much of a complicated race. In fact it was simple: get your flag at the top of the ridges and manage to get it back to the finish line before anyone else.

It had been a little bit of a hard race, but in the end Miguel pulled a manuever that they hadn't been able to do in a bit. I mean… Kinda hard to do a trick using trees when there's so little trees in Zapapico. It was a lil bit of a dirty trick but it got Miguel the lead.

Miguel managed to hold a solid lead for the rest of the track, and finished first.

As Miguel slid to a stop right past the finish line they let out a whoop of victory. "ANOTHER WIN FOR MIGUEL WOOOOOHOOOO!!!" Along with his trainer, Celcity let out a cry of victory as well.

"Let's wait for the others, huh Cel?" Miguel patted Celcity's neck and dismounted. In return Miguel got a chirr.

So they leaned against their mount, arms crossed, smug grin spread wide.

==

Ramona was the first one to get back and… well…. She was fed up. This smug motherfucker was pushing her limits and she was tired of it. So she was going to teach the prick a lesson. The moment Checkerboard was across the finish line, Ramona dismounted, and marched towards Miguel.

Mig's grin widened, there was even joy singing in their heart. They expected this to go like how winning a race against Maple went. They pushed off of Celcity and approached her in return. "Hey Ram' how's-" Before Miguel could finish, Ramona swung her fist directly into the Miguel's face, clocking their nose.

The swing caused Miguel to stumble back the few steps they had just taken. A sharp pain shooting through their nose. "HEY WHAT THE FUCK!?" Before Miguel could get another word in Ramona grabbed them by the shirt collar and got up in their face. "You think you're fucking better than us, huh!?"

Celcity rose up onto his hind legs and growled, threatening for Ramona to back off. He was not fond of anyone other than Maple laying his hands on Miguel… but he wasn't going to interfere with a fight between humans unless their trainer gave the go ahead.

Blood trickled from Miguel's nose. "What!? No-" Miguel's leg buckled instinctually as a sharp pain ran through it. As they go down they catch sight of Crescendo and Rafael a couple meters behind Ramona with stones floating around him. Stone edge… fuck.

Behind them Miguel can hear Celcity dart towards Crescendo. A fight is bound to ensue.

Of course the yanking and manhandling isn't done as Ramona grabs Miguel's face and holds them up just a bit. "You're much better down there, cheating bitch." Her words are hissed out with a venom.

Miguel growls and tries to bite at Ramona's hand, not wanting to just be thrown around without at least fighting back. Its as they attempt this they feel an arm wrap around their throat and pull them back and up.

"Don't go biting my sister, stupid mutt." Alvaro's voice is low in their ear, laced with threat. "DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Miguel tries to kick at his shins but their legs aren't in a position to do any damage, so they're left clawing at Alvaro's arms as he squeezes tighter.

"We only let you join us to be our little packmule, our gullible Lillipup who'd go fetch for us." Alvaro growled out, holding Miguel against them as his sister went in for a punch to the gut. He finally let Miguel go so they could fully drop to the ground, wind knocked out of them.

As Miguel's knees hit the ground they can feel the stones in their leg dig in deeper. Man that hurts like hell.

Footsteps crunch the dirt and leaves in front of them. A figure crouches down… it's Edwardo.

"Y'know, kid." Edwardo looks Miguel up and down. "You really should have known your place and kept to it. Would have made things less messy."

Scene fade to black

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Only One Alive

Bleeding in Moonlight: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three |

CW: Buried alive, digging out of grave, referenced mass murder, werewolves, nonhuman whumpee, captivity, escape, dehumanizing language, my boy is a survivor

-

Earlier

Misae hadn't known what was happening, at first. 

He’d been locked up alone in a cage in the barn for a week straight after accidentally nipping at Ada’s hand the last time the humans had cut him to take blood. He’d been able to hear the noise of the packs in the kennels, at least, and had sometimes howled just to hear their answering howls in return - until Bill or somebody else came out and yelled and they all went silent again. 

All day, there had been the grumbling roar of machinery somewhere off in the big clearing behind Bill’s house, where the humans lived. All day, things had driven close and then far, close and then far. When Bill’s younger son Aaron had brought Misae his midday meal, he’d dropped the bowl through the bars in a hurry so he could rush back outside, to help or to watch. He’d ignored Misae’s hesitant questions - until the moon rose, he’d been human in shape, curled up in the cage with a blanket over his lap. 

The real humans always ignored them, or hurt them, when they tried to speak. Misae mostly didn’t talk anymore. He had been whipped too many times to keep trying.

It was only after the moon rose, and the shift had taken hold and the voices of Misae’s family had switched from soft human speech to rumbling growls and howling, that the machinery stopped its cacophony.

Shortly after that, the dying began.

At first, the sounds he could hear didn't make any sense. Misae had flattened his own ears against his head to muffle the shouting of the real humans, but it still hurt. Even here, forgotten inside the barn, all the yelling and ordering and threats had been deafeningly loud to his canine ears. 

He’d ended up trying to press his paws up and over them, but even that wasn’t enough.

The sounds the packs made were even more confusing. He could hear the cries of them all, young and old. One of those howls might be his mother, or a deeper pleading for mercy could have been from his father, but the children born in the kennels were never told who had borne them. 

The humans didn’t think werewolves should remember their children, who Bill called ‘puppies’, so they took them after 12 weeks and washed their parents’ smells off them and then handed them off to be raised in the kennels by all the shifters together. 

Misae had never know which voice singing a lullaby might have been the first. Everyone was his mother or father, and no one was. 

For a while, lying in that cage in the barn, he’d heard the pleading and the shouting, fear and rage, uncertainty and maybe even occasional hope that this might be freedom.

Then the first shots rang out.

The loud, horrible sounds of the special gun with its huge silver bullets had gone on and on and on. There had been high-pitched squeals and canine screams. Maybe they were being moved, and needed to be herded onto trailers. They’d moved once, a long time ago when Misae was still carried on someone’s hip. They’d been pushed into trailers in sweltering summer heat and driven from Bill’s last house to this new one, built far away from everyone and everything. 

A few from the packs had protested and tried to fight back. The guns had come out, then - the first time Misae had ever heard them. A couple of the wolves had been shot to show all the others how serious Bill was, and they’d all been good then.

So, for a while, Misae thought they were just herding the wolves, and shooting stragglers or fighters.

But… the shots didn’t stop.

They went on and on and on, with the humans only pausing long enough to reload before firing again. 

The howls of pain built, voices layering over each other. Something was happening that had never happened before, in Misae’s memory. They weren’t culling, killing the rebels and fighters to leave behind the softer, sadder, obedient wolves to be studied. 

Misae was listening to them die.

All of them.

It was Austin who eventually remembered Misae, alone in the barn. Austin came in with a white face and white-rimmed walleyes to unlock Misae’s cage. He tossed a loop of heavy rope over his head, jerking it tight enough to choke him as he slowly dragged him out. Misae [pressed himself against the back of the cage and dug his paws into the dirt, but he wasn’t strong enough. His nails left marks in the dirt. 

Tail tucked under his body, he was forced inch by inch towards the barn door and the squeals and whines and whimpers. They were begging not to die, asking why. The packs had been so good when studied. They had been obedient animals and they cried in confusion and terror when it wasn’t enough, asking the humans over and over why this was happening, what they had done wrong.

The humans couldn’t hear any of it. They didn’t have the right kind of ears.

But Misae did.

Later, he would see that Bill’s family shot the werewolves with silver under the light of the full moon because it was easier to kill them as wolves rather than face murdering them as men. At the time, though, he understood nothing but his own fear. His only awareness was of the pounding beat of his heart being maybe the last thing he would ever feel other than pain, the darkness that would follow it, and finally the promised, inevitable fires of Hell.

Monsters only had one afterlife, after all. Bill always said so. 

“Come on, Rusty, you stupid fucker,” Austin snarled, but his heart wasn’t in the anger he put into his voice. Misae dimly realized Austin was scared, too. “Dad will blow a gasket if he realizes I forgot you were in here-... come on!”

Misae whined. Austin jerked the noose tight again to cut the sounds off, but he wouldn’t look right at Misae as he pulled him along. Austin looked like he’d seen a ghost. No, he looked like what he was - someone not much older than Misae was, forced to make ghosts. He’d probably made three dozen of them by now as Misae listened-

Misae tossed his head back and howled.

No one answered the call.

No one was left with enough breath to do it.

There was a big hole dug in the clearing.

That’s what the machinery had been doing all day, dragging huge piles of earth up and out, depositing it into a big pile off to one side. A hole like a wound in the grass had been left, nearly filled now by blood and fur and open, unseeing eyes. The sight loomed so large in Misae’s mind that he didn’t really see it at all.

His mind instead simply let horror wash over him even as it refused to accept the images his eyes tried to share. He would never be able to clearly recall the sight. He owed it to them, his pack, his family, to remember their deaths but his eyes and his brain would never allow it. Instead, he heard the sounds.

Some of them were still whimpering, when Misae was pushed up to the edge of the hole. Some of them were still whining. Some of them were only breathing, loud, heavy gasps that held too much blood in struggling lungs. He heard them all.

He would hear them all in his sleep, when he slept, for the rest of his life.

When Misae turned his head away from the horror of the pit, his eyes met the depthless black of the barrel of Austin’s gun instead. Austin’s hands were shaking, and the barrel kept dancing too far to the right or the left, unable to settle on its aim. 

Misae dropped his head slightly. He let out a soft, plaintive whine.

“Shut the fuck up,” Austin hissed. He looked like he was going to be sick any second, throw up all over the dead wolves behind Misae or all over himself. “Don’t do that. I have to-... I have to.”

Misae looked away again. He made himself take one step, and then another, hovering just at the edge of the pit, looking down into a dozen open eyes, some wide with fear, and some seeing nothing at all any longer.

“Look… I’m sorry, Rusty,” Austin said, voice low. “I really am sorry. But I have to.”

BOOM.

Misae’s heart stopped.

His body toppled forward and he fell gracelessly into the pit.

Misae landed heavily on top of warm bodies, smeared in blood. It smelled like his family, and like metal and fire, and death. He knew what silver felt like in his body, how badly the agony would overtake everything else. It confused him when he realized he didn’t feel that pain. How could he be dead without hurting first? Had it been instantaneous, a shot to the head? Was he going to drift here in a corpse-body until Hell came for him? 

He stretched one paw and then another. He took the deepest breath he could. His heart was still beating. He was alive.

Austin had missed.

The relief was overwhelming. One of the others was trying to move, Nina he thought, and her huge paw pushed against Misae’s snout, forcing his head to turn painfully to one side. He nearly bit his own tongue to keep from making any noise. Her huge body settled over his, jerking reflexively as she kept trying to move. Nina whined, low in her throat, again and again.

Someone else rolled, and pressed against him on another side.  

He heard Austin above him, sounding farther away than he really was. There was another shot. Nina jolted and went still. “Okay… okay, got him that time. I’m sure I did… I’m sure.” Austin didn’t sound sure. His voice trembled. He retched, and Misae listened to him and wondered why he was losing his supper over the murders he had been the one to commit.

“Oh, baby, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Someone else soothed. Sandra, Misae thought, maybe. Bill’s wife. “Remember, not ‘him’... ‘It’. Don’t act like they’re people. Doesn’t matter if you hit it, it’ll suffocate once we get the dirt back in, anyway.” Her voice softened. Misae could imagine she hugged Austin, her precious son. What was having a mother like? “You did a good job, Aussie. It was a cleansing. The versipellis is washed clean and clear, and we can begin again. Your dad will figure out a cure one day, I know he will. He’d been led… this is his calling.”

“I hope not,” Austin replied. “I hope we’re… I hope we’re done, Mom.”

Nina, on top of him, was going limp, turning to dead weight. Misae could barely breathe.

“Dad will stop trying to figure out werewolves now, right?” Austin sounded… young. And softer, maybe further away. They were leaving. “We won’t have to do this again?” There wasn’t a reply, not one that traveled to Misae at least. After a pause, Austin made a noise of despair that made Misae want to laugh, with hysterical loathing and panic. “Please, Mom, tell me he’s going to stop now. Tell me he won’t just go find another group to run his tests on. Please tell me he’s done!”

The roar of the big machinery began again, and Misae didn’t know what Sandra might have said next. 

Would there be other wolves in the kennels, soon enough? Other puppies born in the shed and then taken away to be blood-tested for the sickness? Would the new wolves smell the deaths of the last ones, and know that they would probably end up here, too, once all these bodies had turned to bones?

The first heap of earth fell.

All of those still alive began a new and frantic struggle. Their howls were more like screams, now, so loud that Misae’s whole head throbbed with them. He knew he was making sounds, too, but he couldn’t really hear them over his own heartbeat and the sound of static inside his head. He couldn’t even begin to stop himself. He could feel the vibration in his throat.

Another of his pack - Den, lying beside him and who was probably a littermate, even though nobody was supposed to know who their litter-siblings were - had gone still, too. Misae tried to wriggle out from under Nina, but her weight felt impossible, and with every passing minute more and more dirt fell. Covering the wolves, cutting them off from the moonlight. Misae went blind, except for a little sliver he could see when he dared open his eyes, before he had to clench them shut against the dirt that kept trying to work its way in.

For a while, he was surrounded by the whines, the whimpers, the pain and fear. His pack still begging for mercy, even now, even as they were buried. Wriggling, hot fur and the smell of blood overran every other scent in the world. Blood and silver, burning them from the inside out.  

Each of their voices went silent, one by one.

Eventually, finally, he could hear his own whimpering.

Misae was the only one left making any sound. 

Still, he could see a hint of the moonlight against the back of his closed eyes. The dirt was heavier on one side of the hole than the other, it hadn’t been evenly filled in. They might come back and push it over, though, make it solid and impenetrable, rob Misae of the air he still had to breathe. Hide the grave, cover it in new grass or clover or flowers. 

He couldn’t hear the machine any longer.

He couldn’t hear people, either.

How long Misae laid there, he didn’t know. The bodies around him were becoming more solid with every passing minute, weighing on him more heavily. His own heart kept pounding, but he thought he was the only one. He would die here, under the dirt, surrounded by the corpses of his family. It was the longest he had ever been allowed to be here with all of them, and it would be forever. There was something… nice about that.

Misae was so scared of being alone.

But he was more afraid to die.

He began to wriggle his smaller body, as carefully as he could. He shifted, moved inch by slow inch out from under Nina’s body until even his tail finally pulled free of her, smeared in bloody mud. Dirt was ground into his fur, stuffed up his ears, found its way into his mouth and down his throat. He had to keep his eyes closed, and sometimes snorted out air to try and clear out his snout only to breathe more in.

He could taste their deaths on his tongue.

Alone.

He shifted his paw, slowly, carefully. Dug it into the dirt and then crooked a joint, pulled himself forwards using the catch of his nails to help him balance. He could smell a little bit of fresh air, and sense a little moonlight. He knew which way to go, if he focused on the moon. The moon always led the wolves, it meant for them to shift to run, not to be locked up in kennels pacing with endless restlessness until they were whipped by the humans for misbehaving.

He moved his other paw, echoing the motions of the first. 

He had to dig his slow way up through the bodies of his family, shoving them aside when he could, when there was room. He climbed on top of them, moved his ears in apologies when he had to dig nails into their bellies or press paws against their heads, when he knew he was being watched by sightless eyes. Every member of his pack he moved past, he named their smells - Nina, Den, Hanwi, Nayi, Koya, Ka, Bliss. He repeated their names to himself, because no one else would ever say them. The humans had given them all other names, dog-names that sat like insults on human tongues. The wolves had had their own names for each other, and he thought them now, every single one.

Sometimes he felt the rough press of a tongue against him and hope would rise, small and soft, only to drop back to despair when Misae realized what he felt was a dead tongue lolling out of an unmoving mouth.

His stomach clenched, and heaved, but he fought it back down.

Eventually, though, one paw found the edge of the pit, and then the other. He felt the breeze against the softer fur there and whimpered, desperate to have that air on every part of his body, desperate for the knowledge that he’d made it out.

He pushed down on both front paws as hard as he could, his wasted muscles protesting as he pulled himself up and out, back paws scrabbling in the loose dirt, shoving himself up using Tate’s shoulder for balance. He panted, tongue out, opening his eyes finally to see the bright shine of moonlight as his head popped up over the pit, his ears up and swiveling immediately, checking for sounds, for any humans nearby.

He heard nothing.

Nothing but the sound of his own breathing.

But… there was a smell other than blood, finally, a smell that wasn’t death. The wind blew cool against his face. He smelled pine trees and birds hidden behind leaves. He felt the moon on his fur the way he imagined it might feel to have a mother hold you, and finally with one last push he stood on all four legs in the grass once again. 

He shook himself, dirt falling from his fur in what felt like waves. Spread his toes, let his paws really sink into the soft earth. Took in a huge breath and then let it out in something like a sigh. 

He was alive.

He was the only one alive.

Then, from close to the big house, he heard Aaron’s soft high child’s voice ask, edged with exhaustion, “Hey, Austin? Is that one of the werewolves over by the, um, the hole?”

Austin cursed. Misae turned to look just as Austin, with a red face and teary eyes, aimed and fired. He was too far away to even hope to hit, but a tree close by Misae suddenly burst apart in an explosion of pine needles and bark.

Misae let himself take one last look at the sight of someone’s paw sticking up above the loose dirt.

Kola's, he thought. There was a white spot on Kola's black paw.

Austin took aim again, and Misae ran.

-

Tag list: @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @scoundrelwithboba @shrimpwritings @deluxewhump @yassifiedinformation @whatwhump @dont-look-me-in-the-eye @tundra-tiger

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 11: "All the light's going dark and my hope's destroyed" + Animal Trap

Read on Ao3

- Legend & Hyrule

- Summary: When the sudden appearance of a portal sends Legend and Hyrule hurtling to an unknown destination, Legend attempts to save them both. But it all goes terribly wrong

CW for a character nearly drowning (it's not too descriptive, but just be careful), dehumanization, and drugging

---------------------------------------------------

He’s falling.

Legend only half-registers it. His stomach is in a knot, his body weightless, yet strangely heavy. His heart is in his throat. Wind rushes past his ears. But it’s not the plummet he fears. It’s the darkness he is headed towards.

He’s falling, Rulie is falling, and he hasn’t a clue where they'll land.

Dark magic warps around him, funneling him down, down, down. He reaches toward it with his own magic, trying to guide it, to nudge it in a safe direction.

Water. They need to land in water. Otherwise this will end very badly.

He solidifies an image in his head. A lake — big and beautiful and clear, waterfalls rushing down into it. There. That’s where he wants them to land. 

A hand grapples in the darkness. Fingers wrap around his own, familiar magic pouring through them to enhance his own. A slight smile lifts Legend’s lips.

Hyrule.

The image grows more clear and distinct. The smell of fresh water and dewy grass fills his nostrils. Legend steels himself and takes a deep breath. Any moment now…

Heart pounding in his throat, he tightens his hold on Hyrule’s hand. 

“Don’t let go,” he orders through the waves of their entwined magic. And Hyrule’s grip strengthens in reply.

Another moment slides by, a moment filled with utter darkness and the nauseating push and pull of gravity. Legend holds his breath, awaiting impact. 

It comes in a rush of magic and liquid, cold and heat, light and darkness. Legend catches a glimpse of blue sky and white clouds. Then his body breaks the surface with such force it knocks the air from his lungs.

Water floods the space it leaves and he chokes on it. Black dots dance before his eyes. Desperately, he fights to hang on — to consciousness, to the hand that now lies limp in his.

Come on. He grits his teeth, kicking his feet to try and surface. Change already!

As if in response, a sharp pain streaks through him. His two legs become a single, powerful tail; his fingernails grow into talons; iridescent scales climb up and down his body. And in the next moment he can breathe.

Legend wastes no time. Ensuring Hyrule’s hand is firmly in his own, he begins to climb toward the surface. The sun shines through it, beckoning him forth. 

Hope blossoms within him as he grows closer. He’s almost there. 

The net comes out of nowhere. He sees it briefly out of the corner of his eye – a dark, looming thing. But his mind doesn’t have time to process, nor his body to evade. And in the next moment, it surrounds him. 

Coarse ropes tangle in his fins, wrap around his tail. Panic coursing through him, Legend thrashes. With his free hand he claws at the net, attempting to shred it. He has to break free, he has to get Hyrule to the surface. 

But his efforts are fruitless. The ropes are too strong, too thick.

“I caught something!” A voice comes from up above. Any other time it would be muffled by the water that surrounds him. But now, in this form, Legend can hear it clearly, as if the man is standing right beside him. “It’s big! And it’s a fighter.”

“Hurry! It could be what we have been looking for!”

The net begins to move, dragging the heroes upward. And after a moment more of struggling, Legend lets it. It goes against every instinct he has, to allow their captors to haul them up onto the boat. But fighting back takes time, time Hyrule doesn’t have.

He pulls the traveler to his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around him. And in the next seconds they break through the surface and are pulled onto the floor of a small boat. 

Legend can make out blurred faces, leering and unfamiliar; a blue sky painted behind a layer of trees; water drifting as far as he can see. But he doesn’t allow himself to survey his surroundings beyond that. Almost immediately, his attention is back on the hero who lies limp in his arms.

“Rulie,” he gasps, through burning lungs. This form never fares well on the surface. But it will only be a short while before he reverts to his Hylian body. He can hold on until then.

Dragging in another wheezing attempt at a breath, he presses a hand to the traveler’s face. His skin is cool and pale, eyes still closed, chest still. Dread settles unpleasantly in Legend’s gut.

Maybe landing them in the water was not such a wonderful idea, after all. Maybe he should have let whatever was going to happen, happen. Maybe he should have focused his attention on crafting a shield around them instead.

He shakes his head, shoving the thoughts away. Gritting his teeth, he closes his eyes.

He doesn’t know how to weave the powerful healing spells that Hyrule does, but he is familiar with a few simpler ones. Spells that can take care of cuts and bruises, gashes that don’t travel too deep, even wounds that render you unconscious. And perhaps, they will be enough to drag the water from Hyrule’s lungs.

“Well, well, what have we here?” A voice croons from above him. 

Distantly, he registers the net lifting off and away, dragging at his tail as it does so. He does his best to ignore it. 

“A sea creature?”

“It’s called a mermaid.”

“Well, I’ve seen one of those before.”

“Isn’t this what you were looking for?”

“Indeed.”

Someone is leaning over him now. Legend can feel their hot breaths on his neck. 

“Look at him. What a magical being.”

A hand brushes over the length of his tail and Legend inhales sharply. The breath soon turns into a hacking cough as his body reminds him how little air he is gaining at the moment. 

Ignore it, he tells himself, even as every part of him screams to leap back into the water, where he can breathe, where the clammy hands of strangers won’t touch him. Focus on Rulie. 

“I wish to study him. Take him…and throw his friend back into the water.”

The words have barely registered in Legend’s mind before rough hands wrap around his waist and pull. His fingers slip from Hyrule and the spell dies upon them. 

“No!”

He thrashes, striking out with his claws, kicking as his tail splits and becomes legs. Someone cries out and another voice joins them. But they are a mere cacophony of unintelligible noise to Legend’s ears. All he can see is Hyrule being dragged toward the edge, all he can hear is the deafening silence left by the absence of his brother’s breaths.

This is all your fault. 

A fist connects with his jaw and he reels back, tasting the sharpness of iron. But seconds later he is struggling again, desperation allowing him to push through the pain, the fear, the way the world feels like it's closing in on him all over again, like the day his uncle died, the day the entire kingdom had turned its back on him without reason…

An arm comes into reach and he bites down, hard. That earns him a slap across the face.

“Stop fighting, damn it!”

He kicks outward, feet connecting with someone’s body. They hurl him down onto the unforgiving wood of the boat, so hard that he sees stars. For a moment it is all he can do to breathe.

“Little brat!”

“Is he even worth the trouble? Look at him! He changed back!”

“Calm yourselves. You are damaging the specimen.”

Legend drags his head upward just as a man squats down in front of him. With his graying hair and wizened face carved with smile lines, one could think him kind, even grandfatherly. But when he grips Legend’s chin and holds his gaze, there is no sympathy in those eyes. There is only cold, terrible, hunger.

Legend shoves himself up on his hands and knees, wrenching himself out of the man’s grip. He steels himself, hand already going toward the hilt of his sword. He will fight to the death if need be. They will not touch Hyrule.

But the man’s voice halts his movements.

“Remain still or your friend will go over the side.”

Legend glares at him. He can see no lie in that face. His hand falls back down to lie limply at his side.

“What do you want?” he grits out.

The man regards him calmly. “I have been interested in strange creatures for many years now. I have studied them quite extensively. One might even call me an expert. However, I have yet to examine a mer. So, you, my boy, are quite a fortunate find.”

He rises, still looking at Legend as though he wants to pin him to a board and stare at him for a while. Legend fights not to squirm beneath his gaze.

“You are fascinating. Not quite a mer and yet…not quite Hylian either. Oh, the discoveries that could be made from you.”

The man moves closer. Before he can stop himself, Legend backs up a step, bumping against the two men he hadn’t realized were standing behind him. He can’t breathe now. It’s as though he is dragging in surface air through his gills again, fighting to remain conscious. 

Focus. You don’t have time to panic.

“I would take you by force,” the man continues, calmly, as though carrying a conversation with a neighbor, “as my men have so clumsily attempted to do. But that would damage you beyond repair. And in order for my experiments to work, you must be in optimal condition. I must control for most variables. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yeah, I understand alright. You creep.”

Legend’s eyes flit around, taking in his surroundings, looking for a viable way out. His fingers flex and clench, itching for a weapon. But Hyrule is so close to the edge now. Too close. One wrong move and he will fall back into a watery grave. 

And the water…the water is the only chance of escape he has. But the cost would be great, too great for him to entertain.

He inhales a trembling breath and makes his decision.

“If you want me so badly, I’ll come with you. On one condition.” He looks back at Hyrule, ignoring the way his heart clenches at the sight of him.

You idiot. Letting yourself become attached again. Don’t you ever learn?

“Let me save him. Then, take him back to shore and leave him there.”

The man doesn’t answer at first. He looks between the two heroes, fist at his chin. Then, he nods.

“Very well.” He turns to his men. “Take us back to shore as quickly as possible. And bind and blindfold the boy.”

Legend watches, anger boiling within him, as they tie thick ropes around Hyrule’s wrists and a cloth around his head. No sooner have they stepped back than he rushes forward, skidding on his knees before him. The spell is already at his fingertips and in his mind, woven threads of his magic. And he reaches out, pressing a hand to Rulie’s arm as it pours forth.

“Watch him,” he hears someone say from far away. “He might try to pull something.”

“He won’t,” the man with hungry eyes answers. “He cares too much for his friend.”

Legend shakes his head, brushing off the oppressive truth of the statement.

“Come on, Rule,” he murmurs, “come on. Wake up.”

A moment passes and another and another, slipping by in slow succession. All the while the boat speeds toward the shore. If he looked up, Legend doesn’t doubt that he would see the bank fast approaching. But he doesn’t dare. He hardly allows himself to breathe.

Tears stream down his face and blur his vision. He doesn’t brush them away.

“Come on, traveler. You’re tougher than this. Don’t you dare die on me!”

Another series of seconds pass in which Hyrule doesn’t move. And then, abruptly, he draws in a gasping breath. He pitches sideways coughing up mouthfuls of water. Relief streaks dizzyingly through Legend as he reaches out, gripping his shoulder to support him.

“You’re okay, Rulie,” he says, both to himself and the hero trembling in his grasp. “You’re okay.”

Thank the goddesses.

The coughs subside and turn to haggard breaths. Hyrule raises his head, dazedly attempting to look around. 

“Ledge?” He croaks. He tries to move his hands up to his face, but the ropes prevent the motion. “Legend…what happened? Why can’t I…where are we?”

Legend is about to answer when the boat comes to a stop, bumping against a grassy shoreline. His heart climbs into his throat. 

“It’s okay,” he manages. “You’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

Hyrule turns toward the sound of his voice and Legend is glad that he cannot see the look in his eyes.

“But what about you?”

Strong hands grasp his arms and wrench him away from the traveler. He stumbles to his feet.

Men close in around Hyrule too, hauling him up and starting toward the shore. He struggles, though weakly, face still much too pale.

“Legend!”

Legend manages a shaky smile, more for his own sake than his brother’s.

“I’ll be fine too. Don’t waste your time worrying about me. Get free and get out of here, you hear! Don’t you dare try and come back for me!”

Hyrule gives another shout as he hits the damp ground, immediately trying to stumble up on bound feet. But Legend can hardly hear him now past the thundering of his heart and the distant sounds of water lapping at the boat as it drifts back into the depths.

Then, something cool and metallic pierces his neck and he knows no more.

[whumpy-writings]

Reunion

Pennae Volatus Masterlist

Augusnippets 2024 Day 8: reunion/found family/friends

CW: winged whumpee, slavery, dehumanization, memory loss

They stumbled as they were pushed into a cage and the door slammed shut behind them.

"Zem?"

They turned toward the voice. It was another avian in the cage next to theirs, older, with gray and black mottled feathers. Something tickled the back of their brain.

"Zem, yes, Zay and Mez's child. I remember you," the avian said.

They furrowed their brow. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."

The avian's face fell. "Of course. They must have taken your memories. The technology's relativity new, and expensive, so they haven't wasted it on me. My name is Exal. I'm from your village on Zo'helt, though even if you hadn't been taken you probably wouldn't remember me. You were barely out of diapers when the slavers came."

Their head ached. "I-I've always been a slave."

Exal shook their head. "No, you haven't. Your name is Zem, and you were free once."

Zem. They turned the word over in their mind. It felt...right.

"I don't remember anything before the cage," Zem whispered. "I know there was stuff before, but I can't get to it. And," their breath hitched, "I'm so, so scared."

Exal reached through the bars to grab Zem's hand.

"This is my fifth time being sold. It never gets easier, but I promise things will be okay. Avians are a curiosity to these people. They buy us for decoration and amusement, and then sell us when we aren't new and shiny anymore. It's scary, but at least we aren't bought for hard labor."

Zem's chest felt tight. They squeezed Exal's hand. "I'm glad you're here. Can you tell me about home?"

Zem closed their eyes as Exal's soft voice told them about a place that only really existed for one of them.

@whumpsday

[compassionatereminders]

Wrt the intelligence thing it's really not appropriate to compare the experience of being considered smart to being considered dumb, being considered smart is a privilege and being considered dumb is dangerous at best. I've been on both ends, before I started to show symptoms of trauma I was considered very smart. I'm autistic and my special interests aligned with being analytical & writing well. Then the trauma caught up to me and I regressed so fucking hard, and it was like a switch flipped.

There was a degree of dehumanization with being smart, but it was nothing compared to the way people spoketo me when they assumed I had intellectual disabilities, even though I don't. My mind slowed down a lot bc of trauma(and covid damage) and while it's started to get better the damage from being infantalized and denied autonomy will never go away.

I do use it to be a better ally to those with ID, because even if someone does struggle with that they still never ever deserve to be treated that way. Like yeah it can be hard to be smart, but it's very much talked about a lot while being not smart pretty much guarantees you'll be isolated and ignored and abused.

I completely agree, which is why I tried to gently point out to that anon that while possibly isolating and hard at times, being "very intelligent" is in fact NOT a marginalization in any real sense of the word. Whereas being cognitively or intellectually disabled very much is. Which is why I find the need to highlight the specific struggle of high intelligence weird and inappropriate in most cases. No, I don't think that you don't get to struggle or talk about said struggle just because you're "smart." Obviously you do. But you gotta be able to admit that it is in fact a privilege to be what society considers highly intelligent

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Unintentional 25

Previous—Masterlist— Next

CW: BBU-adjacent, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization. Explicit language. Past surgical/medical whump alluded to, hospital setting. As always, beta-read by @alittlewhump <3

Found. 

Found. 

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with ‘found’. 

It wasn’t good or bad or safe or pain or any of the others that WRU had made so bright and shiny and accessible they were practically glued to his hands. Even when he went deeper, spiraling down into the shadowy, muddled places he cared not to linger in, there was no space for it anywhere. 

Found.

It didn’t matter anyway. All that mattered was what it meant to Leo. 

And he had absolutely no fucking clue. 

“Aiden, I found you,” Leo repeated, like he was able to see exactly how long it was taking Aiden to glean any meaning from the phrase.

His head hurt, even with all the drugs he’d agreed to. That had to be a bad sign, a sign that they’d lied and the drugs were doing something else since they certainly weren’t eradicating all of his pain. He made sure his grip hadn’t changed around Leo’s hands. Leo’s hands holding his. Like maybe they were all that held him together. 

Leo was almost smiling, his eyes still full of emotion. A few tears had fallen just moments ago before he’d made an apology exactly like the one Aiden should have made and couldn’t make. Leo’s eyebrows were still raised because he expected this to mean something but Aiden wasn’t clever enough to figure it out. More tests that Harrison designed him to fail. 

He nodded once, holding his breath, hoping to hell Leo would give him some indication that it was the correct response or at least one that would earn him more explanation. 

Leo tilted his head a fraction of a centimeter to the left and took a breath but the exhale was shorter than the inhale, more audible. 

Fuck. 

Aiden flinched when Leo reached for his shoulder. “M’sorry,” he mumbled.

“You’re good.” Leo rubbed his thumb in circles over the starchy fabric of the hospital gown. 

He wanted to cry. He wasn’t good. None of this could be leading anywhere good.

Leo leaned forward, for some reason undeterred from driving at this point. “Aiden, the day we met. When you woke up in the back of my van, remember?”

Yes, he remembered. A promising first impression.

“That morning, I stopped to get coffee on my way to work and I found you—”

Found whatever lies Harrison had written, raising his hopes so they’d have even further to fall.

“I found you, unconscious in a snowbank off the parking lot—”

No…

“I-I thought you were homeless. I was going to give you my coffee but when I saw you—” Leo reached for his cheek and this time Aiden was too stunned to flinch. “—I just, I didn’t think twice, I wanted to help you, to keep you safe.”

None of this made any sense. Why would he make something like this up? What was the point? 

Leo let out a breath, like a sigh. Was he relieved? 

He was looking at Aiden expectantly again and Aiden wanted to scream. 

Why couldn’t Leo just give him the answer?

“I didn’t even realize you were a—” Aiden was left to hang in the full shame of what he was, what he had been reduced to. “—Companion. I just wanted to help. I’m sorry I fucked it up, not seeing what was right in front of me, not helping you as well as I could have.” 

There really wasn’t any point in trying to understand the purpose of this fresh test. 

Christ, it was convoluted and he was way too damaged to ever hope to follow. 

His throat ached from holding back sobs.

Nothing he could do would make anything better. 

Worse might be possible, but at this point, did it even matter? 

“What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t—Aiden, are you with me, sweetheart?” 

His gaze had shifted off Leo’s face to stare, unfocused, at the light of the MRI machine coming through the window. 

Leo searched each of his eyes, one and then the other, to make sure he was paying attention now. 

He burned under the valuation. 

“Aiden, I didn’t buy you, I—”

“Stop.” He stood, the chair rolling away behind him. 

Did he just say that out loud? 

He staggered back, away from Leo and in search of his balance. 

It was all too much, all of this was too much.

“Aiden?” Leo rose to follow him slowly, hands at his sides. Always so careful and calculating. 

“Nnn—please,” he sobbed. 

“Easy, it’s okay—” 

He shook his head, pressing the heels of his palms into his temples.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Leo said quickly. He reached his hand out. “I didn’t mean—I only wanted—”

“Don’t!” Louder than he’d intended, clearer than he thought he was capable of. “Nnn…please,” he added too late. Leo’s face had already fallen, just for a moment before he’d returned to looking concerned.

“Don’t…come near you?” 

Nothing could have been worse. Aiden let himself crumple to the ground, arms coming up around his head as he tried to fold away. To sink into the grave he’d dug for himself hand over fist.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

Aiden shook his head, sobbing. Everything ached. “Nnn—please…nnno…don’t…nnn…lie—” 

After a while, he wondered if maybe he hadn’t said it out loud. Or Leo hadn’t heard his whisper. Or was pretending he hadn’t heard. He tried to quiet his crying to hear. Maybe Leo had left and now, finally—

“I’m going to come sit by you, okay?”

He didn’t move or object so Leo crossed the room and sat beside him. Aiden peeked out to see him dragging a hand over his face, elbows on his knees. 

“There’s probably a dozen better ways I could’ve explained that. Delia told me to wait, she was probably right—she’s always right. I’m sorry.” He sighed, glancing over and caught Aiden watching him. He smiled that half-smile, the one that made a few lines appear by his eyes, the one that looked so kind. “Hi, hon.”

He flushed, despite himself, despite everything, and was so glad his face was covered. Leo’s smile faded and in another well-trained reaction Aiden feared he was disappointed. He almost reached for one of the practiced responses, out of habit, to try to salvage the exchange. 

“I’d never lie to you, Aiden. I know there’s nothing to make you believe that’s not just another lie but I have no reason to lie to you, sweetheart.” 

Aiden couldn’t see the reason either. Unless it were just for sport, which would mean Leo was exactly like Harrison, and Aiden couldn’t face that at all. 

He lifted his head, resting his chin on his knees. His arms were starting to throb from holding his legs up to his chest.

Leo smiled again, same smile as always. 

Same as the time he’d torn open a bag of mini marshmallows in the parking lot, sending them skittering all over the slush, trying to bribe Aiden out from under his van. Same as when he saw Aiden waiting for him downstairs every morning. Same as when he came home every day. 

His heart hammered in his chest. It didn’t seem possible that he could be interpreting all of this right. That any of this was right for him. There was one way to tell. He was pretty sure he’d said it before, correctly, even though he hadn’t really meant to. He’d always been too afraid to practice. The name had never felt like it belonged to him to say. 

The sounds were all there, like they wanted to be spoken. He took a breath—

“Leo?” 

Aiden jumped and Leo put a hand on his back. “It’s just Delia.” 

“Hey, checking in. We can head back now.” 

They each took a side and lifted helped Aiden to his feet. Delia’s name tag clicked against her stethoscope as she leaned down to help Leo. He couldn’t read her name, of course, but there she was in the photo, a wry smile on her lips. He wondered if she had been instructed to look serious but couldn’t keep a straight face or if the security guard in charge of pictures had a sense of humor. 

This was definitely not a place for people like him.

This was a real hospital. 

Delia was a real doctor.

If Leo didn’t have any papers or a contract for him, they really weren’t anywhere remotely related to WRU.

All of that sneaking around had been real. 

What exactly were Leo and Delia risking by bringing him here?

“Sweetheart?” Leo’s hand on his cheek made him gasp. 

He looked between their faces. Apparently, they’d meant for him to be paying attention.

Leo caught onto his panic. “Hey, it’s okay.” He moved his hand down to rest on Aiden’s shoulder. “We’ll head back now. You don’t need to do the scan, okay? It wasn’t fair of me to expect that of you. You can rest a bit more until it’s okay for us to go home. Sound good?”

His head nodded automatically. Leo kept one arm around him as they turned toward the door. 

He planted his feet. 

Leo stopped guiding him. “Aiden?”

He just wanted—he couldn’t— He flapped a hand. What the fuck was that going to convey? He used it to cover his face instead, shaking his head. “Mmm’sorry…m’sorry…” 

“It’s okay, take your time. We still have time,” Delia said. 

The silence swelled as they waited for him, waited on him.

Leo and Delia exchanged a glance that made him want to evaporate. They were confused and he couldn’t fucking articulate a single goddamn thought in his head. This was not going to work or end well. He couldn’t do this. 

He kneaded his brow, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Does it hurt, hon?” Leo rubbed his shoulder. 

Aiden shook his head and tried to swallow the knot of frustration building in his throat. “Mmm…I…I…”

Leo considered him patiently, with that concerned crease appearing right between his brows. 

Aiden couldn’t decide if it made him want to fall into his arms or at his feet. 

He should just be cooperative and go back. 

But maybe it wasn’t only selfish. Leo deserved to know. Even if he pretended it didn’t matter how damaged Aiden was. Not to mention whatever that meant if Leo hadn’t even wanted a companion in the first place.

Now, he’d done it. Tears started running down his cheeks. He swiped at them with the back of his unbandaged hand but they kept coming. He groaned and it just sounded like a sob. 

“Aiden, honey. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” 

He wondered erratically if he might actually respond better to having it beat out of him. If all of this kindness and patience and consideration was what made him flounder. How could Leo still be so patient with him after the tantrum he’d thrown earlier?

“I…mmm…mmm…” Forget about want, need, have to. It was like Harrison had reached in and removed specific words from his head. Which was exactly the reason why this was so important. He pointed at the black monitors lined up under the window, cringing at how debasing the monkey-gesturing was. “…please?”

“You—you want to do the scan?” 

Something released inside of him, letting free a sob too. He nodded, wiping his face again. 

Leo’s brow furrowed even more. “I’m sorry, I should have asked. I didn’t think—”

He shook his head quickly, now crying in earnest. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have done or said anything to make Leo—

“Alright, okay. Hey, Aiden, hey.” Leo moved closer, squeezing both his shoulders. “It’s okay. If this is what you want, we’ll make it happen.” 

He sniffled and nodded. He wanted to sink into the floor for making so much trouble. For the way it was making him feel to have Leo gently thumbing the tears off his face and acting like everything really was going to be okay.

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