#familial whump

[whumpster-dumpster]

Siblings taking the fall for each other, whatever that may look like in whatever applicable whump. I'm a sucker for it every single time

[paingoes]

Crash Out - Sabina

hi. this one is pretty dark. heres some backstory on paris’s parents. it’s about forced marriage and offscreen/implied forced pregnancy and rape. nothing sexually explicit is depicted, just implied. heavy overtones of domestic violence as well.

(Content: abduction, lady whump, forced marriage, physical abuse, familial whump, royal whump, intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, domestic violence, starvation, referenced child endangerment, implied noncon, suicide, poisoning, death, unhappy ending)

“Oh shit,” Paris sat up in the passenger seat, pushing the sunglasses up off his eyes. “I’ve been here before.”

The city below glowed in the early morning light, pale and crystalline. The glass spires jutted out from the soft grass. It looked cold, somehow. Twinkling. Lorelai had never seen a town look so fragile. She’d have never thought to describe one that way if she had not seen it herself.

“What?” she asked. “On conquest?”

“No,” he answered huffily, as if this were an unreasonable assumption to make.

“With my mom,” he explained, looking off into the middle distance. “Her family’s from here.”

Lorelai slid out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. He followed her out, down the smooth stones that made up the pathway into the city center. 

It was a pleasantly cool day, but the architecture made the whole scene feel wintery. She imagined that she was entering into a kingdom of ice. She remembered Thales, how cold it had been on the night of the ball. As she slipped her hand into Paris’s own — the non-dominant, the less injured one — she felt the same chill. It wasn’t all unpleasant. There was a beauty to it.

 All it had to be was a supply run. The imperial currency was standardized, good enough for all the planets in its territory. The further out they got, the more open the locals became to haggling. She leaned forward against the counter of the fruit stand. The vendors liked her. Everyone always liked her.

After a while of staring off into the hillside, Paris propped one arm against the barrel.

“You know where I can find a Selene Lucia?” he asked them.

They were nice enough to draw up a map, the pencil carving a path up into the hills. No exact address, but Paris swore he’d know it when he saw it. By her estimate, if he’d come with his mother, he hadn’t been here since he was seven years old.

The pale buildings petered out on the climb, the houses became sparser, more residential. In time, he really did abandon the map, working purely off the distant memory. 

The trees shaded the sidewalk. She traced her fingers along the black fence that divided the path from the lawns, listening to the pleasant vibration it made in her fingers. The leaf canopy cleared for a split second as they passed another gate.

“This is it,” Paris said abruptly. He stared at it dumbfounded.

“You think she still lives here?” Lorelai asked, frowning.

“Don’t see why not.”

Neither of them moved.

“Are you coming?” he asked. It seemed like he already knew the answer.

“…If you want,” she offered. He shook his head. The one and only time she had met his father, it hadn’t gone well. She didn’t want much to do with his family.

“Call me if you need help,” he said as he pushed the gate open.

“You too.” She nodded, heading back down the hill. The sun was higher in the sky now. The city reflected it straight into her eyes, nearly blinding her.

~

“Oh, god,” Selene Lucia said as soon as she opened the door.

“Hi,” Paris said, pleasantly surprised to even be recognized. 

She pulled him into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Are you being followed?” she asked.

“Uh, no, ma’am. Don’t think so. Not now.” Paris ran one hand through his hair.

“What are you doing here?” She narrowed her eyes. Her face had creased from years of that same, skeptical motion.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I was in the area. I just wanted to stop by.”

He needed to do laundry, too. He decided not to mention that now.

Selene sighed. There was some relief there, he could tell. Maybe she thought he’d come asking for more. 

He looked around at the house. It was smaller than he remembered, but still nice. Light filtered in through the sheer curtains.

She led him into the violet-colored kitchen, the dark sharpness of him clashing against the scene. She’d been working when he knocked — and this she resumed. He leaned back against the counter, rocking gently against it, watching the knife cut thin lines through the stalks.

“Do you need me to do anything?” he offered. She shook her head. He shrugged, looking back down at the linoleum.

“You’re wanted in five hundred different territories,” she said.

Five hundred sixty one.

“Yeah,” he said, not looking up. For some reason, he hadn’t thought that’d be her first reaction. 

“It’s your father’s fault, you know. Leaving everything in the air like that. It wouldn’t have happened if he-“

“-if he believed he could die?” Paris finished. He’d had the same thought, a million times over.

She made a soft and exasperated sound — and said nothing else.

“You didn’t…call or anything. After he died,” he said tentatively. 

“We had no contact,” Selene said.

“My phone number is public record,” Paris said, not hiding the hurt in his voice. He leaned forward, his arms crossed over his midsection. She didn’t turn to look at him.

“I don’t know why you’d expect that from me,” she said.

“I didn’t.” He shrugged. “I just…I don’t know. It would’ve been nice.”

“Would it?” She asked, turning now.

He frowned. What was he supposed to say to that? He hadn’t even realized he wanted it until he entered the house. It hadn’t occurred to him at all.

“I don’t know why you didn’t,” he said. “You didn’t call me when she died, either. You didn’t reach out at all.”

She seemed to lose her resolve then. She signed, nodding her head in the direction of the kitchen table. He sat down where indicated. The whorls of wood grain stared back up at him. Their shapes had mesmerized him when he was little.

“Is ginger tea fine?” She asked as she lit the last of the stove’s burners.

“Yes, ma’am.” He agreed, though he knew he wouldn’t drink it. He tried not to drink from any open containers — and he watched her hands carefully as she prepared it, wary of pills, wary of poison.

She placed two pale yellow teacups down on the table. Powder blue chinoiserie decorated the edges of the saucers. Steam floated delicately off the golden surface of the water.

“Do you know how your parents met, Paris?”

~

On a morning wet with dewdrops, Selene and Sabina tread happily through the underbrush. The sky was pale and overcast, but the sweaters their mother had knit for them kept them warm and comfortable. Sabina picked at the roses and the sweet briar that bloomed out of the damp earth. Twin blonde braids fell down her back. They were stained with mud at the edges when she’d bent down to touch the grass.

Selene watched the skies with a kind of dormant worry. There was something she was always waiting for, but never really expected. But it had come anyway. It had landed last month.

There was a place the land crested, the point at which the forest gave way to the clear valley. When they were little, they had dragged their sleds out to it on snowy days and laughed as they flew down the hill.

With the easy familiarity of someone who had walked this path since birth, Sabina moved to the top of the ridge. She was startled to find that in the valley below, a large ship was parked. It was more expensive than anything she’d ever laid her eyes on.

All dressed in scarlet against the verdant grass, a man stood tall and impervious. For a split second, his eyes fell on her. And that was all he needed.

~

The Emperor arrived in fine robes, in the middle of town, all his footmen swarming in droves about him. His color was pale, in a way that is supernatural. Not at all sickly. He was in good health. 

In the market, Selene crowded closer to the exit, while all Sabina seemed to want to do was stand her ground. The Emperor fixed his eyes on her, matching her boldness. His hands didn’t shake the way hers did, but the length of her was all resistance.

He liked it.

“Briar Rose,” he said, sing-song, “Was that you in the canyon the other day?”

Unbelievably, his hand moved to trace her braids. She smacked it away, teeth bared, furious.

“Go fuck yourself,” Sabina hissed. 

All she got in return was a chuckle. It was the sound birds made when the bullet missed their heart.

~

The knock came in the middle of the night, with only Selene up to answer it. She peeked through the curtain, and immediately drew far back, down onto the carpet.

“Daddy,” she cried, in a pitch she had not reached since childhood. 

He came instantly and sent her back to her room, far from the thin door that separated their house from nightfall. But her room was right by the entrance. She pressed her ear to the ground to listen.

“Would you accept a dowry?” came the low drawl of the Emperor. “For the youngest. The blonde one.”

��She is my daughter,” Father’s voice came out wrathful in return. “You can take the rest of the world - god knows you already have - but you will not touch her.”

“I would take good care of all of you,” he promised. “I don’t mean to distress her. I think it’d be best if we were all on the same page about this.”

Milky, sick. Selene cried until she couldn’t breathe, then cried more. Sabina slept in the next room, fast asleep, unknowing.

~

Roses. There were thousands of them, clogging up the yard, on each surface of the porch. Roses, roses, roses. The scent was overpowering. It was like something out of a nightmare. When she moved to open the door that morning, Sabina met a stiff resistance. That was thick the petals were stacked.

They came with a note. Father snatched it away before Selene could read, but Sabina had seen it.

She heard her sister crying down the hall. She watched it through a crack in the door.

“I don’t wanna go,” Sabina sobbed, “Mama, I don’t wanna go, please.”

She hid her face in the fabric of their mother’s dress, bent over on the floor, inconsolable. Already flinching away from any touch.

~

“You will come quietly,” the Emperor said, “Or you will come in chains. It makes no difference to me.”

Sabina swung at him as if she could knock his head straight off. It took five men to drag her off in those glistening, golden chains. She was soaked with sweat and tears, an awful slickness, a thrashing.

~

Castle Thales was dark in wintertime — and to her starved body, each room was freezing. Each door had a lock — and she had no keys.

He left her in her own bedroom the first nights. Locked up there, hands bound, until she was ready to *calm down*. He’d thought it would take days. It ended up taking months. It was only when the food stopped that she became handleable.

Sabina glared daggers at him. Her hands shook too much to hold utensils. He thought it was from fear, but it was all just fury. 

She dreamt of killing him nightly.

~

“It won’t be as bad as you think,” Constantine promised her as he lifted the veil. “It does not have to be this hard. You make it this way.”

She glared and glared and glared and flinched as his hand traced her bare arm. She was too pale now. She’d been locked away from the sun for too long. Now her skin was as white as the ripped wedding dress.

“You’re a queen now,” he said, like it comes as an assurance. She wanted nothing more than to beat him until he stopped breathing.

“You could have all you ever dreamed of,” he said. He doesn’t know her at all. Tears formed in her eyes before she could stop them. He moved to wipe them away for her. She bit into his hand as hard as she could and grinned when she drew blood. It was the first time she’d smiled in months.

~

She was slapped violently for that, which surprised her, because up to this point he had seemed so hesitant to hit her in the face. He threatened to yank all her teeth out, replace them with dentures, and take them out whenever he decided she’d lost the privilege. 

This seemed unattractive, which gave her reason to doubt the threat. But she could not call his bluff, so she stopped biting.

One of his men whipped her back until it was bloody. She hated it. She reveled in it. She was making him so mad. 

She cried as the maids worked to cover the bruises, the skin still tender even at the soft touch of the brushes. The crying wet her face. They had to keep restarting.

There was no need to cover up the whip marks. The corset did it all on its own — coarse, scratching, irritating the unhealed skin. The maids undid her long braids. Her hair reached all the way to her waist now. 

She reached out for the scissors on the vanity and cut it all off.

~

He was mad he couldn’t pull her hair anymore. He could bunch it up by her scalp, but it wasn’t the same. His was a cold anger. He probably liked to think of it as controlled. He loved to think of himself as controlled.

“It looks good on you, darling,” Nezu said over dinner, just to piss them both off. Sabina made a gagging sound in the back of her throat. She reached for the unused knife by her right napkin and wields it menacingly. As menacingly as she could manage, which turned out to be a lot.

Nezu looked excited at the prospect of getting stabbed by her. In disgust, she put the knife back down.

“Picked a good one,” he said approvingly, just as soon as the Emperor rejoined them.

~

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” Sabina held the saber in both hands. It was decorative, plucked straight off the wall, but it still held an edge. It could still kill. She meant to. She really meant to.

“You are unwell,” Constantine said. “You don’t know what’s good for you. You don’t know when to quit.”

She lunged at him. He gasped and darted away. She’d only missed him by an inch. She howled in frustration.

If they’d trained her, she’d have been a brilliant fighter. But they hadn’t. And she wasn’t. She left all of herself exposed for the next lunge — and he downed her.

“I’ll kill you,” she swore, with his hands wrapped tight around her throat. “If it’s the last thing I do, I swear, I’ll kill you”

“Sabina,” he cooed sadly. “Rose. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“I want you to fucking die,” she sobbed. 

It was a final hurrah, one last gift to herself. When the sobbing died down, there was nothing else left.

~

The baby came a year later. He’d stopped hitting her while she was pregnant. She did not know if this was temperance, or if it was merely because she’d stopped fighting. They’d both been reluctant to resume the old routine. The baby changed things. It was soft, pliant. So easy to break. Sabina cried when she held it for the first time, cried every day after that. It had kneaded at her chest, half-blind, sleepy. It didn’t know anything.

“Constantine?” She said softly as he swapped out the bandages. The Emperor up in surprise. She so rarely used his name. 

But when he did look, she didn’t know what else to say. The terror must have shown through her. She felt all her body was wretched, torn apart, aching. She couldn’t take anymore.

He seemed to recognize this. He never hit her again.

~

Years passed before she saw her family again. When her son is five years old, she brought him back to that porcelain city, back to her parent’s old house. Both of them dead now, the million wars ravaging even when she cannot see them. She didn’t get to go to the funeral.

She’s stopped crying so much at this point. There’s a dignity to her, one she’s managed to scrape up off the floor of the palace. She was the tough one. She always had been.

She sat up in her sister’s kitchen, drinking ginger tea, manicured nails tapping softly at the porcelain cup. Selene sat across from her, pale, as if she’d seen a ghost.

~

They wrote letters after that. Constantine had agreed to it, perhaps sensing that his wife had no bone for conspiracy left within her. She was locked into it now, more than she ever had been before.

There’s a desperation to her script. God, she was so unhappy. Selene wrote back just as soon as the mail was delivered, sent it out the same day. It was all she could do. It never seemed to amount to much.

Sabina hinted at it. Selene swore she knew the end.

There’s a flower that grows in the garden of Castle Thales. It is indistinguishable from the heritage rose, but a single blossom could kill when ingested.

When they did the autopsy, they found fifteen of them in her stomach.

~

Paris stared back at her from across the table, totally frozen. The teacup sat in front of him cold and untouched.

“She died of sepsis,” he said slowly, emphasizing each word.

Selene looked at him with such pity that he thought he might be sick.

“She died of sepsis,” he repeated, “Slowly. In the hospital. She didn’t commit suicide.”

“Paris,” she said softly, “It took a week, didn’t it? Did you see her before the end?”

He propped one elbow up on the table and hid his face in his hand.

“I was at school,” he muttered. “She was already comatose when I got there. She died the next day.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

And of course she said it now, thirteen years later. She wasn’t there when it happened. Nobody was. There was absolutely nothing.

“You understand, surely,” Selene said, “why I was not so devastated to hear of your father’s death.”

There was still something so haunted in her look. He couldn’t bring himself to look up from the wood whorls. He didn’t even hear her standing up. He flinched at the sudden brush at his hand, gentle as it was. She tilted his face up as if to study him.

“God, you look just like her.”

The doorbell rang. Selene startled.

“I thought you said you were alone.”

“She’s my friend.” He stood up quickly. “She’s the only one.”

He opened the door. Lorelai stood cheerily on the step.

“Look what I got.” She grinned. She held up her hand at his eye level and let the necklace dangle from its chain. At its end, the rose charm shined in the dying light.

~

On an air mattress in the cleared out living room, they laid in a tangle of limbs. Lorelai’s breath was shallow, light, pleasantly exhausted. Paris traced the flesh of her breastbone, intent, almost like he was trying to find something. He had told her the whole story, in hushed tones, in the dark.

“I don’t want to get married,” he said quietly, at the end.

Lorelai laughed under her breath.

“Paris, we were never gonna get married.”

“Yeah, I know. I just…” he trailed off. “l don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

Oh, what a question. He shrugged.

“…I took you away from your family,” he said it hushed, as if it was confessional.

“Is that how you remember it?” She laughed again. “That’s not what it was. I wanted to go. I asked you first.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he said, finishing the thought. What either of them thought when they first started out hardly mattered anymore. It seemed so far away now.

“Then don’t,” she said.

~

They left before the sun rose, trudging the long way, past all the grave sites.

“I guess it’s weird for me to keep this now,” Lorelai said as she studied the pendant.

“It’s just a necklace,” Paris shrugged. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

But they both knew it would always hold that weight.

The grass was frosty as if it had snowed. There was so much mist in the air. It was cool and refreshing. It was the perfect morning for it. 

They passed by another memorial site. Victims of the war that Empire was waged. An orator could list them all day and never run out of names. Paris paused to watch as Lorelai moved up the knoll and placed the pendant by the base of the stone. Not for Empire. Not for Rose. For Sabina.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @whump-queen

[mintflavouredwhump]

An eldest child whumpee who is always forced to be the 'role model' of their younger siblings while bearing the brunt of their parents' anger and expectations.

[bilightningwhumper]

Belonging to Nightmares

-A "12 Dancing Princesses" inspired story-

Rating:

Mature (with some Explicit scenes throughout)

Basic Premise:

-Medieval with some modern/steampunk-esk twist; partially dystopian or post-apocalyptic in quality -F/F romance -MCs are female whumpees with various whumpers and various caretakers -Types of whump/general warnings: lab whump, medical whump, possessive whump, familial whump, discrimination+ableism, nsfwhump (in moderation)

MCs:

Minna- Clone 3 of 12, autistic and semi-verbal through echolalia Kyrie- Minna's best friend turned girlfriend from school, adhd and hyperverbal

Summary:

Thirty years ago, the wife of the king's favored scientist passed away, taking their unborn child with her. Twenty-five years ago, twelve girls were made and born to the scientist, both in honor and the image of his beloved wife. Nearby, another girl was born, but she was unimportant, unworthy of note by any other than her parents in celebration of the grand miracle. Now, in the present day, our story starts five days after the scientist's death. Only one daughter, Minna, the one their father kept closest, does not grieve him. Neither does she grieve the loss of freedom taken from her sisters and her. She barely grieves at all, only the ghost of her supposed feelings of affection for friends, even what she'd dared called love for one of them, only that keeps her company now. Her fate is sealed, the protector of her family. Hidden away in the dark walls of the castle, Kyrie fights to change her fate. Her family is proud she has been elevated that despite being so lowborn, she is now a concubine for the king. They don't know the king is unpredictable, ever-changing in what she and others can do to please him. But please him she must, so she can find a way to be with Minna again. Or die trying. All main characters 18+ unless I specify otherwise (ie, certain flashbacks).

Notes:

Whump heavy in assault of multiple natures (medical, lab, torture, sexual, etc), so caution moving forward. I do not condone Rape/Noncon irl. This is purely a way to vent and cope. Take care of yourselves!

(* for mature/18+ posts)

Character List (and mini lore dump)

MC Portraits for "Belonging to Nightmares"

Character List for "Belonging to Nightmares" prequel- "The First Ones"

Main Work:

(alternating PoVs; Minna first, Kyrie second, repeat)

Meet Minna

Meet Kyrie [tbd]

Minna- The Year Before [tbd]

Kyrie- The Year Before*

Meet the Sisters [tbd]

Meet Cyrus [tbd]

Excerpts/Drabbles (chronological order as of now):

A Father's Disapproval- Whump scene- Minna PoV (with Kyrie; Minna whumpee)

A Silent Meeting- Whump scene- Kyrie PoV (with Minna; Kyrie whumpee) [planned to be posted on 12/27/24 at 5pm EST (or 12/28/24 at the same time if delayed)]

Finally Reunited (For Now)- Fluff/angst scene- Kyrie PoV (with Minna)

Midnight Visitor- Whump scene- Minna PoV (with Kyrie; Kyrie whumpee) [Multiple versions of this one: Version 1, Version 2, Version 3-in progress]

The Perfect Gift- Minna

The Perfect Gift- Kyrie

Writing Events using these MCs:

Feveuary 2025 (coming in February! Planned daily postings at 5pmEST each day)

Related answered asks:

Writeblr Library- Browsing: What's something your character is looking for? Will they ever find it? (answered with Minna)

Writeblr Bakery- Cake: How does your character celebrate? Could be for holidays, special events, or general celebration when they are excited/happy? (answered with both MCs)

Writeblr Gym- Stretches: What is your character's final goal? What are they reaching for? (answered with Kyrie)

Let me know if you want to be on the taglist, but no pressure, as always.

[whumperofmassdestruction]

whumpee has a complicated relationship with their family, and it's mostly their own damn fault. in order to keep their own secrets safe, they've built a wall between themselves and the rest of their family, pushing their siblings and family away by putting on a mask of somebody worthy of being hated. in a household full of people that are supposed to know them better than they know themselves, they have never felt more alone.

bonus points if the secrets they keep would hurt the rest of the family if they were revealed.

[chaotic-orphan]

I feel like we’re all missing a vital factor in this Oskit debate. In one of the chapters (I think it was when they were driving to the hospital to check on mentor) that Ambrose was literally thinking about how kit is basically his brother since his father raised kit. Ambrose LITERALLY was like “I’ve always wanted a brother” and “It would be fun to have a brother” obviously not what he really said but I’m a little to lazy to hunt it down.

Now i really do like the idea of them being in a relationship but from what we know about the characters I feel like they defiantly have more of a sibling rivalry.

YEEEEEESSSS!!!! Yes thank you for pointing that out!! That was — I think — one of the first times we saw Ambrose’s POV (except when Kit faints or whatever), but yeah, after he realises that Kit could have been his brother if Mentor had been a proper father, then the two of them would have been brothers. And Ambrose is kind of upset at not having that because Mentor was a dick to him.

And!!! Another tidbit, is When Ambrose finds out what Mentor is to Kit, he just gets up and leaves Kit alone, and from there we see a change in Ambrose’s behaviour towards Kit. Because of the possible familial connection.

And then, it’s the angst of the sibling rivalry in the hospital. (Even the receptionist mistaking them for brothers, even tho they look nothing alike.) We have Kit meeting Mentor as Ambrose’s father, and seeing him be cold and mean towards his son, and then Kit has the emotional reunion with Mentor, and Ambrose waits outside the foor and has to listen to his father treat a boy that isn’t his son, better than he ever treated Ambrose.

It is a story about familial love, but really really fucked up family’s which is what I love and vibe with so thank you for pointing that out anon XD🫶

[cozywhump]

whumpee has an estranged relationship with their family (or former found family) for whatever reason. they isolated themself from their family and no longer considered themself a member of the family.

but one day, something happens- they get injured, or terribly sick, and have no one else to go to. out of desperation they go to wherever they knew they could find their old family and knock frantically at the door, begging and pleading with whoever answered (a parental figure?) to help them and at the same time apologizing profusely for coming back unwanted.

until they collapse into the parental figures waiting arms, clinging on for dear life as they softly reassure them that “it’s okay, whumpee, you have nothing to be sorry for. i’ll take care of you just like i used to.”

[sleepyiswhumping]

Succession

Part 1, part 2 to come

Content: Referenced/Past Minor Whump, Gore, Minor Whumper, Whumpee-turned-Whumper, Whumper-turned-Whumpee, Familial Whump, Character Death

~~~

It was dark tonight, and cold. So cold. The type of cold that soaks through your bones and freezes your very soul. The type that a fire and hot tea barely helps with. A merciless, cruel cold. And in this cold, a merciless, cruel man stalked through the halls of the palace. The King’s palace. His father’s palace. Well. Not for long. Ros strode with a purpose, moving with quiet determination, and righteous fury. He wasn’t even sixteen and yet his large frame and the feathers poking from under his cloak deterred any who were curious; they thought he was one of the royals. Oh, if only it were that simple. 

Ros adjusted his cloak, ensuring the blade concealed within remained hidden. These halls... they were disgustingly familiar. He pushed away the dreadful memories of his past as he walked through them, resolve steadying. Reaching a hand to his throat, he rubbed the scar there, slashed from artery to artery. Heaven knows how he survived, but he did. His mother wasn’t as lucky... but she was only part of the reason why he was here, seeking revenge.  

The guards at the throne room moved to block him, but froze when he removed his hood. 

The bastard prince, long dead, had returned, and he was here for blood. 

After a brief scuffle, they slid to the ground, slumping against the pristine marble, now spattered with blood from one’s broken nose. The head trauma alone Ros had caused was enough to warrant retirement, but at least they were alive. His blade remained dry as he entered the throne room. There was only one man suitable to slake its thirst. 

“Hello, father.” 

Ros’s deep voice rang out into the room as he shouldered open the massive doors to the throne room with ease and strode toward the cruel tyrant, sat atop his golden throne. 

Like a puppet on strings, the king jolted up, face twisted in disgust and hatred, but as he spoke the tremble of fear in his voice was unmistakable. 

“YOU! You bastard son of a whore, you dare show your face here again? Guards! GUARDS?!” 

“They’ve been dealt with, father. Finally, the only person who can help you is yourself.” 

Ros laughed cruelly as his father’s eyes widened with fear, and there was no trace of humor in his voice. His heavy footsteps thudded on the marble floor, his true size and strength revealed as he shrugged his cloak off his shoulders and exposing his rippling muscles. His wings unfolded behind him, twitching with excitement as he pulled the blade out of the falling cloak. 

“Oh, come on. Don’t be a stranger, father dearest. We both know you had no issue with being all too familiar when I was younger. I remember the bruises, the lashes. And now you cower behind your throne? To think I was scared of you...” 

Ros brandished the blade at his father, steadying his trembling hands. To think I was scared of you... and still am. But his father did not know that.  

“You- you died! Alongside your whore mother-” 

“DO NOT SPEAK OF HER THAT WAY!” he cried, lunging across the throne room, wings flapping thunderously behind him.  

He grabbed his father by the throat, lifting him off his feet. Ignoring his father’s pathetic gurgles and hands hitting feebly at him, he leaned in close, teeth bared. 

“You wish I died alongside her. Then you’d be able to keep that lie up. But...” Ros growled as he pressed his blade against his father’s stomach, “...your half-rate assassins failed. YOU failed. Failed at everything.” 

The blade slid into his father’s stomach effortlessly, after some initial resistance, and Ros grinned as he saw his father’s lips part in a silent cry of agony, throat crushed in Ros’s hand. He yanked the blade up, through his flesh, relishing in the tears that slid down his father’s face, the thick, hot blood, jetting from his stomach and coating Ros’s hand and arm. The only thing Ros heard was the spattering of blood on the floor, his father’s pathetic gurgles, the tearing of flesh as he twisted the blade in his father’s chest, and his own animalistic, hungry panting. He jerked the blade around, twisting it brutally once more for good measure, before yanking it from his father’s chest and letting him fall onto his back, the horrifying, mortal wound torn from his navel to sternum still spurting blood, the soon-to-be corpse twitching and crying silently.  

Ros spat on the dying king before redonning his cloak, wiping his blade clean on its sleeve before hiding it again in its folds. Soon, his father would be gone for good, and he’d be king not much later. There was just one more thing he had to deal with. 

Ros exhaled shakily, calming his nerves, as he slipped out of the throne room and made his way to his brother’s chambers. 

[the-baby-storyteller]

CW: Teen Whumpee

"I'll just get back up!"

Vern shouted indignantly, scowl plastered on his face. He glared at Marc from where he lay, against his will mind you, on the bed and fought the urge to stick his tongue out. That would be a little too childish, even for him.

"You will do no such thing." Marc said, raising his eyebrow in the doorway, food tray in hand. "You will stay lying down and actually recover like you should have done last week. Your leg needs to heal. We're not having a conversation about this, Vern." Marc waltzed into the room with a peacefulness to rival Vern's burning agitation.

Why couldn't he understand that Vern just needed to move?

Marc walked over to the bedside table and dropped the tray onto it.

"Eat this and then go to sleep." Marc's eyes locked with purpose onto his own. "Lord knows you need to recover."

Vern scowled. "I'm not even that hurt! You're overexaggerating!"

"You are, in fact, the king overexaggerater in this apartment, Vern," Marc said rolling his eyes, "but it doesn't matter because you're going to listen to me," He narrowed his eyes, "eat your food, and stay in bed".

Vern averted his eyes obstinately. Marc huffed lightly and began walking away.

A tsk left Vern's lips. "You can't control me," He muttered under his breath, a puff of mischief present.

He pulled off the blankets and started to stand up-

"Vern Allen Haynes."

Vern jumped.

"Get back in bed, now."

He could feel Marc staring at him from the doorway. An unnamed jolt swept through him and he felt shame growing. He looked up and saw Marc's face and the sternness pervading through it. Vern winced involuntarily.

But he couldn't stop the onslaught of thoughts suddenly surging through his head.

Oh my gosh he just full-named me like my parent he actually just did that am I like his kid now? Does he think of me like that AAAAH-

A blush started creeping it's way up his face and he lowered his gaze in an attempt to hide it. Still, Marc hadn't let up with the hard look and he felt thoroughly chided.

He sputtered, trying to salvage his image. "I-I'm not gonna just-"

Marc shot him a glare.

Vern flushed violently. He was acting like Vern's dad.

Marc came over and freaking manhandled Vern back onto the bed, careful of his hurt leg, and Vern let him while he crossed his arms, trying to keep some semblance of defiance about him. The furious blush on his face over the fact that that interaction had just happened didn't really assist with his goal.

Once he was resituated on the bed Marc took a step back to mark him with with one last look to say stay. Though this time he couldn't quite keep up the front and Vern could tell he was holding back a smile.

"Eat the food and sleep, kiddo." Was the last thing Marc said to him, while smoothing his hair in a way that made Vern want to implode with screams because it was way too nonchalant, before walking out.

Vern let out an indignant sniffle.

"Fine."

He picked up the bowl.

Marc smirked.

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

@whumpster-dumpster for the lovely prompt

[rule-masochism]

I think this painting needs to be talked about in the whump community more

[whumpster-dumpster]

A typically absent parent finally being around to help when the whumpee's sick/hurt, quietly (or not so quietly) growing to resent the fact that Caretaker seems to know their kid better than they do

[paingoes]

How would Paris have turned out as a person if Sabina had somehow been able to get away (with Paris in tow) from Constantine, and Paris had been raised by his mom and her side of the family, without his dad's involvement? (This is assuming that Constantine somehow couldn't/doesn't go after them.)

augh :,) this answer got long sorry

cw for mentions of rape, domestic abuse, child abuse, familial whump, angst

whenever i think about any “Sabina Lives” AU i always picture it as her still being with Constantine at Thales and i have a pretty good idea of what Paris turns out like there — more conscientious, quieter. raised by his mom but w both of them still living in the same environment w their abuser.

ive never considered an AU where constantine is out of the picture!

i think. its going to be difficult. i imagine they leave at the same time sabina dies in canon, so paris would only be seven.

most of the explicit physical abuse between constantine and sabina tapers off after paris is born. i think by seven he understands that theyre not in love or anything but he doesnt understand that the relationship is abusive. so i dont think hes really going to understand why theyre leaving and sabina is not going to be able to explain it to him in a way thats age appropriate. she really doesnt want to explain it all actually!

this is why its difficult. like in any circumstance paris is just kind of a difficult kid because he has genuine issues w ADHD and mood swings that require a pretty high level of support. these are exacerbated in canon because of how constantine deals w them but they would be there either way. its going to be hard to explain to him why they left in a way that makes sense and so hes really going to interpret it as her having robbed him of being prince!

so in the beginning he’s actually more spoiled and entitled than he was in canon and acts out a lot. but he will adjust to it after he realizes that no amount of complaining will ever get sabina to take him back. and after enough time he also realizes that he isnt constantly holding tension in his body the way he did around constantine so maybe being away from him isnt actually that bad?

anyway he still laments his lost royalty a lot and will complain about it (has no idea how miserable he would have been) but he doesnt have a lot of trouble actually adjusting to provincial life. on the whole hes a lot happier to be around people who he doesnt constantly have to worry about using or backstabbing him. he has cousins in this one :)

once he’s thirteen, sabina tells him everything. he’s definitely a little young to be hearing the whole story but she thinks he can handle it and deserves some explanation for what happened in his early childhood and why her side of the family tends to view him a bit differently.*

Immediate guilt. This immediately recontextualizes Paris’s entire life and he feels really bad about having been so difficult w her about it before. He becomes a lot more protective of her after this and really hates his father. this is the kind of knowledge that basically permanently distinguishes you from other people your age so paris is going to be a bit more emotionally mature and empathetic. gets called an “old soul”. lol :(

but the overall answer is that he ends up a lot more mellow and probably more intelligent/empathetic.

*Selene is a bit cold to Paris in canon because he is Constantine’s son and he’s a product of rape. In canon she is more or less justified in viewing Paris as being like Constantine because he has perpetuated that same cycle of abuse against Delta and carried out the imperial will. But even if he hadn’t, she’d still feel negatively towards him. But this really only extends to Selene and a few other adults in the family. Selene’s kids are cool with him and she doesn’t prevent them from playing together. She just keeps an eye on Paris when they do.

[bilightningwhumper]

Meet Minna

Current "unofficial" Chapter One of "Belonging to Nightmares"

"Belonging to Nightmares" Masterlist

*Warnings: mention of death throughout (starts with the funeral of MC's father), mentions of past abuse/conditioning/experimentation, autistic shutdown, beginning of autistic meltdown, manipulation/gaslighting* (let me know if I'm missing anything)

Present Day

For a sunny, bright, and clear day, the mood in the air was somber. The procession for Dr Reginold Palore’s funeral moved slowly across the city. A river of black moving through the streets towards the palace. At the front, pallbearers carried his casket between two neat lines of twelve young women, six on each side: his daughters. All of them carefully crafted to look like his beloved wife, who he now joined in death. All that remained of the couple’s memory were these twelve beautiful and accomplished women.

Well, with the exception of one. Minna.

Minna, who didn’t understand why there was such a big fuss being made on this day. After all, her father wasn’t someone who enjoyed this pomp and circumstance. He’d been self-secluded to his home for years, avoiding the public eye. Only she was actually there, every day and every night, with him when all of her sisters had moved on. Even her nurse, Elanor, didn’t really speak to him either, as he just let the middle-aged woman take care of Minna as he went to record his findings.

Now, she and her sisters were all together again. And he was dead. They hadn’t been together like this since… since…

Bizt

She resisted the urge to touch the back of her neck as the chip sent a spark down her spine. It kept doing that, more than normal. Maybe it was broken? But her father was gone. Who could she ask to fix it now?

She almost knocked into Pearl as the procession stopped. As they had been told to, she and her sisters circled around the coffin in perfect order as they surrounded it as the pallbearers set it down on the display. In practiced unison, they all knelt to the ground, black skirts fluttering out like flower petals. Silence fell across the courtyard as King Beringer approached the edge of the palace balcony, Queen Iris on his arm.

As he began a speech about how much her father meant to him and the kingdom, she subtly tried to look up at the group of royal… companions. She knew they were really just concubines, bought by the crown for pleasure, to be pretty faces and entertainment, rather than anyone to be revered like they were presented to the public. Even though Elanor had tried to explain it to her, that people preferred to make things “sound nicer” than they were, she never understood the point.

But as she surveyed the larger group, the king’s side, her heart sank. Desperately, she turned her eyes to the queen’s smaller one. None of them looked like Kyrie. None of them matched her height, her posture… None of them were her at all.

All she knew of her best friend’s (her lover’s?) current whereabouts were what her father had told her. Maybe he had been lying when he said she’d been bought by the king? But her father didn’t lie. Maybe she was-

Bizt

She couldn’t hold back a flinch this time as another shock went through her nerves. Forcing herself to relax, her body fell back into its normal neutral state again. Shoulders back, spine upright, face blank behind her veil. Her sisters didn’t need her to make today any worse by having her make a scene over the malfunctioning chip when all of theirs seemed to be working fine.

So she worked to detach herself, trying not to think of Kyrie. Or of anything at all. It could just be that with the dark veil obscuring her vision and because of the distance was why she couldn’t see her friend. Plus, everyone was dressed in mourning.

That was all it probably was.

Everything would be okay.

---

The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur. Minna went through the motions, silently following her sisters' lead. The only thing she couldn't seem to do was show the world her sadness. During the late afternoon lunch gathering that the king so graciously hosted on their behalf, she was the only one of them to leave her veil on. Even Tanis and Reine had clear indications of grief on their faces while she had yet to shed a tear. So she stayed hidden, letting people make whatever assumptions rather than let them see the truth.

After being freed from the line where everyone consoled them one by one, Minna slunk off to a table in the corner. All the faces of nobles and higher class commoners alike had blurred. It was overwhelming, being among so many strangers. Of course, none of her sisters had any trouble. But they knew these people. They had gone to school with them, had gone to Father's parties, had chances to make connections and friends. Everything she wasn't allowed to, since she'd never improved enough to follow them.

"Minna?"

A quiet whisper startled her out of her staring into her water glass. She looked up to recognize a face she thought she wouldn't see today. Or ever again.

With her short nod, another close friend of hers, Sarah, smiled at her. "Oh good," she said, still in that quiet tone, though they both knew Minna could hear her just fine. "All of you look so alike today, I wasn't sure."

Minna wasn't sure if that was a joke or not. It was hard for clones not to look alike, as far as she knew, even if they acted somewhat differently. The only really visible difference right now was Fenne, her belly just starting to show at three months.

"How are you holding up?" Sarah asked as she took full glasses of wine from her tray and set them on the table beside Minna. From her outfit, she must've gotten a job as part of the palace staff. That was good news, at least.

Just shrugging, Minna sagged against her chair, hoping no one would judge her for poor posture. Even if she could speak, there were too many words and thoughts running through her mind to make sense of it all.

Nodding, Sarah seemed to take her time arranging the table, drawing out making it look neat.

Minna chewed on her tongue as she watched her friend. She didn't want her to get in trouble, even if she was grateful for the company.

"Jared is stuck down in the kitchens, or he'd come up to check on you, too."

Wincing, Minna started fiddling with her glass again. If only she had some sort of pull, like Tanis or Antonia, she'd have been able to help her friends get better jobs. Sarah would excel among other tinkerers and inventors. Jared's passion had always been in books and writing. They deserved opportunities just as much as, if not more than, that any highborn did. They didn't deserve this.

A foot nudged her own and she looked up in time to see Sarah smile and tap the side of her head.

Tears built up in her eyes. Her friends had always been better than reading her than her own family. Even Pearl, and she could read minds.

Another buzz in the back of her neck made her wince. So she took a deep breath and steadied herself before tracing an invisible 'K' on the tablecloth where Sarah could see.

Her friend's eyes only grew sad as she whispered, even softer now, "I don't know how or even where Kyrie is. We were hoping you knew."

Before anything else could be said, another servant appeared. An older man, who didn’t seem to care that Sarah was lolly-gagging. In fact, he seemed bored. Or tired. She couldn’t really tell.

"Excuse me, but are you Miss Minna?"

Whether or not he heard Sarah's very pointed mutter of, "Lady Palore," he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, his eyes remained fixed where Minna supposed he thought he was making eye contact, though she was looking over his shoulder. Very few people didn't make her feel pained or uncomfortable during eye contact. This stranger was not one of them.

Still, she nodded, even if his subtle disrespect bothered Sarah. She was used to her title being reduced or unacknowledged by everyone. At least he said "Miss."

"The king requests an audience."

Her mouth went dry. Even if her father was a favorite of the king, he was dead now. What would the king want with her? The least accomplished of her sisters? The failure?

But she got up and followed the man. Because a request from King Beringer was never really a request at all.

---

She wasn't sure what to expect when she entered the king's study. With all of the rumors, she half expected to see chains or one of the restraint chairs like her father would put her into. But it was surprisingly normal. Just bookshelves, a desk next to a fireplace. He didn't even have any “companions” with him. Just his new lead scientist and her father’s old apprentice, Dr Covenfere; Elanor; and… a dog? A dog, with soft black fur and strange brown eyes. It had a collar in the colors of the king’s crest, the band a deep red with ‘King Beringer’ embroidered on it in white.

She hadn't expected him to be an animal person, let alone to have his own pet, but anything was possible, she supposed.

"Ah, thank you for joining us, my dear. Please, sit." King Beringer said, motioning her to the only remaining chair in front of his desk. The center one.

Uncomfortable, but as there was no other option, Minna did as she was told. Elanor took her hand as soon as she sat down. Normally she would draw back, but right now she clung to the comfort.

“You can leave now, boy.” the king said sharply to the servant.

If the older man disliked being talked down to like that, Minna couldn’t hear a sigh or any sound of irritation. Just a rustle of clothing as she assumed he bowed before she heard soft steps towards the door.

As soon as the door thudded shut, King Beringer smiled, leaning forward with his hands folded in front of him. “There’s no need for formalities here, Lady Minna. If you could take off your veil for us?”

She really didn’t want to, but this had to be another “not a question or request” things. People were so confusing.

With clammy hands, she pulled her veil up and away from her face, though she left it pinned to her hair. It was bad enough getting it fixed to her head once, she’d rather not do it twice.

Whatever he saw in her expression made his smile grow, though it didn’t seem like a nice smile? Even the dog beside the desk shifted uneasily. Though that could just be her imagination. After all, she couldn’t tell her own emotions half the time, let alone anyone else’s.

So she just kept her face as blank as she could when he spoke to her.

“Now, Lady Minna, we have some questions to ask you.” he said, leaning closer. It almost felt like he was trying to leer over her like her father used to. “According to Dr Palore’s records, most of his research is centered around you, as you’d offered to take on the burden for your sisters. Their punishments also fell on your shoulders. We assume you would like to keep that arrangement going forward, correct?”

Doing her best not to frown, she nodded. Honestly, since her father had died, Minna thought the experiments would come to an end. Of course she had been wrong. But maybe, she couldn’t help but hope that maybe, that meant she would be able to stay in the manor. As lonely as it was, it was still home. And she’d been dreading not having anywhere to go at all, since her sisters wouldn’t want to be inconvenienced taking care of her. Elanor had offered, but she still needed a new job since Minna’s father passed. Though now perhaps this also meant the king could would let her on to keep tending to Minna. Why else would Elanor be at this meeting otherwise?

Dr Covenfere cleared her throat, gaining Minna’s attention. If a lemon could be a person, it would be this woman. “Of course,” she drawled through pursed lips, talking in that slow way people older than Minna often spoke to her. “There is also the issue of your infertility. Do you understand what that means, girl?”

“She’s nonverbal, not unintelligent.” Elanor snapped.

Minna gently squeezed her hand, which thankfully stopped the rant at her nurse’s lips. The last thing she wanted was for someone else she cared about to get punished on her behalf.

Sighing, Elanor instead let go of Minna’s hand to reach into the bag at her feet. “Careful of your dress.” she murmured softly as she handed the small chalkboard and pouch of chalk to her.

Minna couldn’t help but have her shoulders relax as the familiar weight was placed in her hands. Now she could talk.

Quickly, she jotted down her words as neatly as possible before showing it to King Beringer and Dr Covenfere. “Father wanted to make sure we could have children. I am unable. But Fenne is pregnant now. So what is the issue?”

Both of the other adults looked surprised while Elanor just smiled. Why it was so shocking when people found out Minna could write so well was something she also never understood. After all, she loved to read and her father always expected the best from his daughters. Even ones he called a disappointment.

The king cleared his throat, leaning back. “Indeed, that was your father’s wish. However, there are other… complications. I’m sure you know how genetics work?”

She nodded. Where was he going with this? Telling royalty to get to the point would probably be rude.

Leaning forward, he looked directly into her eyes. Even painful, she forced herself not to look away as he spoke, “Any baby you twelve would create could possess your abilities. Or some other mutation.”

Unease grew in her stomach. Of course she knew that could be a possibility. But they had her father’s research. They had her. Even if she couldn’t have children herself, that should be enough.

“Do you think Fenne would be willing to give up her child for our research?”

The question hit her like a hammer, the air leaving her lungs all at once. Barely even thinking about it, Minna was already shaking her head. How could they even ask that? Even think that? Didn’t they know how much Fenne wanted children? How she and her husband had tried so many times already? They couldn’t do that. The baby was Fenne’s, not another experiment.

“Which sister, then?” Dr Covenfere asked sharply, her outburst startling Minna and causing the dog to growl. “Dr Palore’s work remains unfinished. Arguably, even now his work is skewed as most of it is centered around you.”

Minna shrank under the woman’s piercing glare. It wasn’t her fault. Not really. Since she could heal so quickly, she always recovered faster from their father’s tests. And while her sisters been sent away from the manor for their education, she was the only one kept behind, going to school nearby. Didn’t Dr Covenfere already know that? Of all the things to blame her for, she didn’t think this should be one of them.

“Now, we don’t want to distress the poor lady.” the king said in a tone Minna couldn’t decipher.

But it made Dr Covenfere pull back, crossing her arms with a huff.

He turned his attention back to Minna, smiling that odd smile again. “What we need to know is, which of your sisters do you think would be willing enough to have a child that they could surrender to our care? This is for the greater good of the country we are speaking of here.”

Chewing on her tongue, she wrote, “You want me to chose?” underlining the ‘me.’

The smile never left his face. “If you have someone in mind, yes. We are going to discuss the matter with all twelve of you later this week, as well as the contents of your father’s will. But we wanted to know your thoughts first, as you know your family best. And in being with your father the most, we assume you would know how best to honor his legacy.”

But she didn’t have anyone in mind. Was that a bad thing? Dr Covenfere seemed to think it was. Still, not even her father had really spoken to her about this, other then how disappointed he was when she… wasn’t able to. But even the thought of making a declaration like this on behalf of her sisters was nauseating. She just… she just couldn’t.

So she took a moment, gathering her words as she tried to calm herself, the now constant buzzing of the chip in her neck making her ache. One breath. Two. Then she wrote, “The decision isn’t mine to make. It is theirs.”

This whole thing felt like practicing learning reactions and emotions. Elanor looked relieved, the king just nodded, and Dr Covenfere looked sour.

If this had been a test, had she passed?

The clock tower chimed in the distance. Five tones rang out. Was it really that late?

“Forgive me, but if I could have a private chat with Lady Minna before she must depart?” The way King Beringer asked sent chills down her spine. He sounded… excited? Eager? It was getting harder to think clearly, her energy diminishing by the second.

Dr Covenfere stormed out first, not even giving Minna a second glance.

But Elanor took a little longer to leave, murmuring, “I’ll be right outside the door, hun. We’ll go right home after this.”

Trying not to show how much she’d started shaking, Minna nodded.

Then it was just her and the king.

Alone.

He crossed around the desk to sit next to her instead taking Elanor’s spot. Which didn’t help her nerves. At all.

“I’ve been meaning to meet with you sooner, my dear.” he said, voice low, eyes fixed on her face.

She really hoped her anxiety didn’t show too much. It was already hard enough not to squirm.

One of his hands placed itself on her knee. And he didn’t move it even when she tensed. “As I’m sure your father told you, my most recent companion to join the court is one of your former schoolmates. A Miss Kyrie Erinsky. He told me you two were close, is that correct?”

What else could she do but nod? This was the most she’d heard of her best friend in months. Even if Elanor had told her never to trust this man, she had to know something, anything.

“Would you like to see her?” He held up his other hand as she made a small noise of surprise. “It would come at a price, of course. But I will allow a short reunion if it is paid.”

A price?

“What price?” she wrote.

Waving his hand, he smiled patting her knee. “Oh, nothing for you to worry about. It will be for Miss Erinsky to pay. All you have to say is yes or no.”

Minna’s stomach churned again. If she asked for more details, she knew she wouldn’t get them. Not even a clue. But knowing the rumors surrounding the kind and his companions, Kyrie was going through enough and didn’t need Minna’s selfish desires making things worse.

So she shook her head, writing, “If it is Kyrie’s price, then it is her choice, not mine.”

His hand moved from her knee to her chin, holding her jaw a little too tight, forcing her to make eye contact with him. “You’ve grown into an interesting young woman, Minna.” he murmured. “Just like your mother.” He stood before she could respond. When he snapped his fingers, the dog got up and came to stand beside him, brushing against her skirts as it did.

“The offer will remain open for whenever you wish to accept it, my dear.” he said, that smile back again. “Two close friends separated for so long just breaks your heart, doesn’t it?”

Then he was gone before she remembered to stand herself.

It took some time before she could even stand. Her legs felt too soft, like they would cave under her at any moment. But she managed to stumble her way to the door, clutching her chalkboard and pouch to her chest.

Elanor took Minna into her arms as soon as she came out of the study. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Minna just shrugged helplessly. So much information had been put on her shoulders all at once. What was she supposed to do? Her sisters would have to make an impossible choice and they wouldn’t believe her if she tried to warn them. Kyrie was somewhere in the palace, so close for the first time in a year, but they couldn’t see each other because… because…

Her legs gave beneath her. She could hear Elanor trying to talk to her, but her mind was already going blank.

Just a little while. She’d be okay in a little while.

---

“Where have you been?” Jeanine hissed at Minna almost as soon as she and Elanor came back to the now mostly empty ballroom. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. It’s almost time to go.”

Drained, Minna looked up at Elanor. Hopefully her nurse could still understand her through the veil she’d put back on.

In low tones, the older woman explained what had happened to Jeanine, though she left out the specifics of the audience. And only briefly mentioned Minna’s following shutdown.

Honestly, Minna was already out of it again when Sydney came to join them and the explanation was given again. She was so, so tired. Faintly, she could hear the clock tower ring again. Seven chimes. Had she really lost that much time?

Sydney looped her arm through Minna’s, either ignoring or unaware of her sister’s discomfort. “Come on. Tanis and Reine are already annoyed enough as it is.”

So they made their way out of the ballroom, through the halls of the palace, out into the cool night air. Elanor left them at some point, having been provided a different transport home. And she must have been dragging her feet without meaning to because Tanis and Reine were both standing outside the carriages waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Their first sister had her arms crossed, while the sixth was clenching and unflinching her fists. The others must already be inside the carriages.

“Minna had an audience with the king.” Jeanine explained as they grew closer.

Tanis just rolled her eyes, stalking to the front carriage without a word.

Sighing, Reine grumbled, “A heads up would have been nice.” before letting herself into the second carriage.

Jeanine followed behind her as Sydney steered Minna towards the last carriage.

She tried not to trip over her own feet. But of course she failed, only staying upright because her sister was there.

Once they made it into the carriage, Minna barely registered that it was Kimberly and Fenne who would be traveling back to the manor with them. She just slumped into her seat, utterly and completely exhausted. As the carriage started moving, the gentle rocking was somewhat calming to her nerves. Maybe she could just sleep all the way home. As long as the others didn’t mind.

Hands on her head made her jump.

It was Kimberly, smiling apologetically. When had she moved seats?

“I was trying to talk to you, but I guess you didn’t hear me.” she said, thankfully quietly. The buzzing had started again and Minna’s body hurt. “The carriage ride will probably be more comfortable without your veil on. Do you want help?”

Relaxing, Minna nodded. Accepting help when it was offered wouldn’t get her in trouble. She hoped. Besides, Kim was always nice to her. Even if she had been bad. Together, she and Kim pulled out the pins one by one. The veil fell to the floor before Minna could catch it, but Kim just waved it off, taking her outreached hand and gently pushing Minna back to the seat before tending to her hair again.

“Don’t worry about it.” she said, pulling out the last of the pins. “You look like you’re about to pass out. I don’t want you getting hurt needlessly.”

As Minna’s brown hair fell around her, she held back tears. It was too much. This was too much. She-

BIZZZZZT

With a strangled cry, she pressed her hands to the back of her neck. Waves of pain wracked through her body as the largest shock she’d ever felt came from the chip. Her lungs stuttered and seized, making it hard to breathe.

What was wrong with her? If it was the chip malfunctioning, why weren’t her sisters’? If she needed to heal from the broken chip, why hadn’t she done it already? She couldn’t even control her reaction to the pain anymore.

“You bring shame on our family.” her father’s voice echoed in her ears. “It’s not like you’re even trying to progress, to bring pride to your mother’s memory! I wish I’d never made you!”

“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled, rocking back and forth as she struggled for air. The memory of her father’s slap still stung against her cheek. It was hard to hold back her tears, but it would just make him more mad, so she managed to hold them back. Barely. “So, so, sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”

Cool fingers rested on her temples, a gentle tingling sending out small pulses of relief into her skull. Slowly, she stopped rocking as the searing pain in the back of her neck faded, becoming nothing more of a dull throb. Her weak words died at her lips as she leaned desperately into the soft touch.

But she couldn’t stop trembling. It was still hard to breathe. Her lungs felt like they were burning. She was so pathetic. Father’s experiments had been far worse than this! She should be able to pull herself together. Her sisters were no doubt disgusted by this vulnerable display. She just needed to try harder, push the shameful behaviors down and away. That was the proper thing to do, the right thing to do.

Multiple sets of hands moved her and she was too weak to resist. She was laid down on her side, her head pillowed in someone’s lap. A hand rested on the top of her head, another on the side of her neck. Someone else was loosening the ties to her dress.

A few tears escaped past her closed eyes. They would punish her now. Strangle her, humiliate her, remind her of her place. Show her how inadequate she was compared to the rest of them, that crumpling as she had was weak and unacceptable. It was only right.

But none of that happened. The hands on her head and neck stayed gentle, only resting there as those soft pulses got stronger, soothing her quivering muscles, calming her twitching nerves. Her dress was only untied enough so she could breathe easier as whoever had done it started rubbing their hand up and down her back.

She couldn’t help but let out a shuddering sob. Why were they being so nice? Was it to punish her worse later? It must be. They probably wanted to leave it to Tanis and Reine to decide what to do with her. She wished they would have gotten it over with, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“-was the last time she let you heal her?”

She could suddenly hear Sydney’s voice, speaking through the fog in her mind.

“She never has.” There was Kim’s voice, as clear as Sydney’s. “Father would have been furious if I had ‘wasted’ my ability on her. But even out of the lab, when he wasn’t even in the manor, she wouldn’t let me help.” Kim’s laugh sounded… sad? “Too stubborn for her own good.”

Fenne’s voice spoke next. “Are you still planning on taking her in? If something’s wrong, then-”

“I don’t care.” Kim interrupted firmly. “No matter what Tanis or Reine or Calypso or anyone else thinks, Minna is still our sister. Even if we’ve been distant for years, she’s family.”

“How strange.” Minna thought to herself. “I must be dreaming. After all, their voices sound like they’re in my head, not out of it. And none of them would really take me in. They wouldn’t want that burden. Father taught us to be independent. Or, they could be testing me. Yes, that must be it.”

As the carriage trundled along, Minna felt herself giving into the gentle rocking yet again. With no other interruption, the gentle pulses still flowing through her body and her sisters busy talking quietly amongst themselves, Minna fell asleep in Kim’s lap.

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[whumperofmassdestruction]

whumpee is convinced that they are the worst thing that has happened to their family. the unfortunate thing about it is that they're right.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Hey writer friends! There's a fun, all-fandom, writing/art event taking place for fall. Cozytober! This is their second year and since they don't have a tumblr page, I thought I'd share the prompts!

For anyone participating in any of the other big fall events (@sicktember @whumptober @flufftober ) these prompts actually meld really well with those.

For more information about Cozytober rules, as well as a text version of the prompts, check out their AO3 Collection page [Here]

Happy writing!!

[whumpypepsigal]

Avatar: The Last Airbender (2024) s01e04 “Everything I need is on this boat.”