#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

[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)

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 adoptive 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 in any way. After all, she does not feel. Not like her friends and sisters do. But she does love, she thinks. And that love is what keeps her going. And so, her fate is sealed. She is the protector of her family. Hidden away in the dark walls of the castle, Kyrie fights to change her fate. After her family's slaughter, she is now a concubine for the king. A king who 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).

MCs:

Minna Palore- Clone 3 of 12, autistic and semi-verbal through echolalia/reading (communicates mainly by writing/visuals) Kyrie Erinsky- Minna's best friend turned girlfriend/lover, adhd and hyperverbal

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+medical whump -possessive+manipulation whump -familial whump -discrimination+ableism -nsfwhump (in moderation) -explicit lesbian smut/nsfw content (consensual) 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"

Calendar for the story

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 First Two Years [tbd]

Kyrie- The First Two Years*

Meet the Sisters [tbd]

Meet Cyrus [tbd]

Flashbacks before Separation (chronological order; Not Spoilers):

Sharing Clothes- Minna, fluff [January, tbd]

First Kiss- Minna, fluff [tbd]

First Kiss- Kyrie, fluff [tbd]

Flashbacks set during "The Year Before" (chronological order; Semi-Spoilers):

Silent Night- Minna, whump [tbd]

Dish Fit for a King- Kyrie, whump [tbd]

A Father's Disapproval- Minna, whump

Secret Meeting- Kyrie, whump [tbd]

Excerpts/Drabbles (chronological order, subject to change; Spoilers):

Finally Reunited (For Now)- Kyrie fluff/angst

Midnight Visitor- Minna (Kyrie whump) [Multiple versions of this one: Version 1, Version 2, Version 3-in progress]

Sharing Clothes- Kyrie, fluff [January, tbd]

The Perfect Gift- Minna, fluff/angst

The Perfect Gift- Minna pt 2, fluff [tbd]

The Perfect Gift- Minna pt 3*, fluff/nsfw [tbd]

The Perfect Gift- Kyrie, fluff/angst

The Perfect Gift- Kyrie pt 2, fluff [tbd]

The Perfect Gift- Kyrie pt 3*, fluff/nsfw [tbd]

"May I have this dance?"- Minna, fluff [tbd]

"May I have this dance?"- Kyrie, fluff [tbd]

Writing Events using these MCs:

Feveruary 2025 [coming in February! Planned daily postings tbd]

Febuwhump 2025 [coming in February! Planned daily postings tbd]

Femslash February (using hollie47's prompts) [coming in February! Planned daily postings tbd]

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]

a softer destroyer AU…..2!!!

(part 1)

wait why is writing family drama so fun

SORRY THESE TRANSITIONS ARE KINDA CLUMSY….. bro trust

also i imagine older sabina’s voice being similar to glados :)

(Content: living weapon whumpee, royal whump, familial whump, parental death, dehumanization, beating, PTSD, implied child abuse, implied domestic abuse, brief reference to past noncon, elderly abuse?, verbal abuse, angst)

In the far corner of the room, the kid was curled up against the cushion. The needles he held moved softly, like he was afraid to make too much noise with them. Sabina watched him through the corner of her eye.

Delta seemed to leave every room that they entered in the beginning. Something in her sunk at the thought. Not that it was a foreign mindset to her. Loneliness was safety. Nobody could hurt her when there was no one around. She understood why he hid. But she had given him the sewing basket in hope that he wouldn’t.

Years ago, she had laughed dead in the Emperor’s face when he had first gifted it to her. She’d spent all of that week embroidering phalluses into his coronation robes. Delta, however, seemed grateful.

At eighteen, he was younger than even she had been when she was taken.

“Can I see it, honey?” 

It wasn’t an order, but he rose nigh immediately to fulfill it. He held the mass of yarn out to her, then pressed his hands back together, clasped politely. She noticed a soft blush appearing on his face.

It was a pink cat hat. He was knitting paw pads into them. 

“You’re learning so fast,” she praised, which made him shy again. She let his fidgeting go unacknowledged.

“Do this,” she instructed. “You’ve been at it for a while.”

Sabina stretched both of her wrists out. She rotated them within their sockets, then pressed against the individual joints and digits. It helped. She’d been doing a lot of physical therapy in the past years, most of which was just stretching. Delta followed her example obediently. From his expression, the process was novel to him. He seemed mildly entertained by the exercise.

She noticed, inevitably, the ring of bruises around his left wrist. This part she does not leave unacknowledged.

“Who did that to you?” She pointed at the injury, but did not touch it. 

For a second, he looked at her like she was stupid. But it fell away quickly. When he didn’t answer, she pushed again.

“Have they been hitting you?”

“…Yes, ma’am.”

It was a redundant answer. Marks like that didn’t appear on their own. But it meant he was okay with talking about it, which counted for a lot.

“How many times, since I told them not to touch you?” She could feel her own irritation spiking. “Both of them?”

“Not Simon,” Delta said hurriedly. “He hasn’t at all. He didn’t even hit me before.”

That last part was a lie. She had definitely seen the scientist swat him at least once, back when the Emperor was alive. She didn’t like the way that man talked to him. But the way Delta was staring at her begged to let it go.

“The other one, then? How many times?” she asked.

He winced.

“…I haven’t been keeping track,” he admitted. She could hear the note of irritation in his voice.

~

“Caned?” she asked. “Can you repeat that?”

Her only son twirled the butterfly knife in between his fingers. His other hand curled up by his mouth when he spoke.

“Ask him.” 

Martino stood in the center of the room, the other side of the desk. Both his hands were clasped behind him — and he was unmistakably annoyed at having been called in.

When she had gone to collect him, Sabina had found the doctor in the study — and his charge with him. Delta sat up on the table with his hair gathered up behind him. His shirt had been unbuttoned and pulled down at one shoulder, leaving half of his torso bare and exposed. To see the fabric hanging off him, to see him dead-eyed…

Her chest ached. 

Now, though, it was just the three of them. Sabina rested at the edge of the desk to face him. Paris swayed back and forth in the chair, with a weird and restless energy that resisted engagement in all directions. She did the talking.

“Do you remember the instructions I gave you?” she asked. “I thought they were quite explicit. I thought I told you not to touch him.”

“Your Majesty,” he said, all slick condescension, “I’m a doctor. How else would you have me treat him?”

“Don’t get cute. Don’t come in here and act like you need me to teach you how to be decent. You don’t touch people without permission.”

“Your Ma-

He wasn’t taking this seriously.

“You are in my house,” she yelled. “You will follow my orders. And you will keep your fucking hands to yourself! Do you understand me?!”

She stood up then, crossing the room to him. The fabric of the skirt rippled when she moved. He was taller than her, by a good amount. It didn’t matter. She was the one with the crown.

“If you hurt him again, I can have you sent to the gallows without trial. The fact you’ve even escaped it this long is a wonder in itself.”

“Your husband didn’t seem to think so.”

She slapped him. Immediately, she was overcome with a sense of disgust. Not at having done it. But at the fact she’d had to touch him.

Martino stumbled. It couldn’t have hurt that much, but he clearly wasn’t expecting it. He stumbled a bit, which she recognized as simple reflex. 

Paris didn’t.

The second Martino stepped to her, he was on him. He’d practically leaped over the table to intervene.

“Get back. Get back,” he urged, though he’d already slammed him into the wall, about as far back as he could reasonably go. His head smacked hard against the wooden surface. 

Paris had the worst of her temper. His grip on Martino’s blazer tightened. With a harsh, jerking motion, he tossed him to the floor. Though the doctor landed on his hands and knees, the ensuing kick to his ribs knocked him all the way to the ground.

“Don’t ever-“

Paris didn’t even bother to finish the sentence. He wasn’t able to. All he could focus on was driving the boot into that man’s chest as many times as he could. It wasn’t a fight, and it was barely even defense. It was just a beating. They both heard the rib crack. If he kept going, she knew he would’ve killed him.

Sabina wrapped one hand around her son’s forearm to restrain him. She did so without much enthusiasm, but some degree of obligation. Martino wouldn’t have struck her. He wasn’t suicidal. He didn’t deserve to die — at least not for that reason. 

More than anything, she didn’t want that for Paris.

He collapsed back against her. When he turned, she saw his eyes had gone glassy. She cupped his face to try and bring him away from it.

“Stop, stop, stop, stop. I’m fine. Look at me. I’m fine. Easy.”

“He was going to-“ Paris gasped. He sometimes got so angry he couldn’t breathe.

“I’m fine,” Sabina insisted. “Calm down.”

He stilled, but he did not calm. She’d gripped his wrist to restrain him — through the skin, she could still feel his pulse beating as if his heart might explode.

~

That was not the last of the re-shuffling. While they’d had succession plans drafted ever since he’d turned fifteen, that didn’t change just how brutal the transition always was. It was still abrupt, still contested. That day’s meeting was particularly bad. All of them had been recently. Paris did not greet anyone when he got back. He cursed to himself, making his way back up the stairs to the Emperor’s bedroom. They still hadn’t cleared out all the paperwork yet. He knew it could take hours of searching for him just to find the forms he was looking for, if they hadn’t been burned or lost already.

He jumped back in surprise to see Delta already inside of it. Draped in one of Constantine’s jackets, much too big on him. He’d been going through the jewelry box when the door had opened. He retreated his hand quickly as Paris entered, as if this did anything to conceal the act.

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

Delta froze. It did not help. 

Paris laughed incredulously and without humor.

“Oh my god, what the fuck are you doing?”

Delta didn’t answer, which only pissed him off more.

“It’s fucking rude to ignore people when they’re talking to you. What’s your problem? You miss him? Because he was so fucking nice to you?”

No answer. Delta looked back at him as if he’d just slapped him in the face. But Paris couldn’t stop it once he’d started. 

“Do you actually think he loved you? Do you think he ever loved anyone but himself? Put that shit down. He bought you and he fucking ruined you the same way he ruined everyone else that he pulled into his life. You think he was better just because he wasn’t holding a whip? That he didn’t know what they did to you, that he didn’t fucking pay for it?! Are you that fucking stupid?!”

That did it. Delta was already on the ground midway through the rant, kneeling, the way he did whenever people raised their voice around him. His eyes were down, bowing his head to keep his expression from view. But his knuckles were turning white from just. how tightly his fists were balled up.

“God fucking damn it,” Paris yelled, banging his side of his fist into the door in frustration. Delta flinched. At the same instant, Sabina appeared by the stairs.

“Paris,” she said his name in low warning tone.

“No, what the fuck is he doing? Why-“ Paris gestured, then cut himself off. He ran one hand through his hair, about ready to tear it out. He knew he was about to cry.

“I told him he could,” Sabina explained, slowly. Irate. “God knows you don’t want any of it. How dare you start yelling at him like that?”

She was mad at him. He hated it when she got mad at him; he couldn’t stand it. He slipped past her, jogging down the stairs before either of them could see the tears forming in his eyes. Sabrina stayed there on the top step. He didn’t see Delta, but he could guess he was still kneeling there, that he’d stay until she  gave him permission to get up. 

~

“You can’t snap like that again,” Sabina warned him from the other side of the kitchen.

Paris leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over. He rocked himself gently off the edge.

“Why? Constantine was a fucking dog. I thought we agreed to burn all his shit,” he grumbled.

“You couldn’t burn all that he owned if you had the rest of your life to do it.” She promised. But her eyes had lit up when she said the word burn. She shook her head. “Enough. Don’t take it out on the baby. It’s not his fault.”

“Is he stupid?” Paris asked again. “Doesn’t he know?”

Sabina sighed. She opened the fridge, pouring herself a glass of wine. She was overly focused on the mechanics of it. She rolled her shoulder to undo some of the tension that was forming there.

“Your father is dead, Paris. Isn’t that enough for you? It’s not enough that the both of us hated him, and that he died violent and alone? You also need everyone else to despise him just as much as you do?”

“I do.” Paris said plainly. “Don’t you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Do you know what all my anger got me, in the end? Do you know what would have happened if I’d kept feeding it?”

He didn’t answer. His mother crossed the kitchen to him, tilting her head to one side. He had half a second to glare at her, but it fell flat on the attempt. Sabina was unfazed. She said:

“I would’ve killed you in the cradle.”

Paris shifted back, pulling his arms tighter around himself. He hated when she got like this — all intensity, like she could hold up all four decades of her life on the edge of her fingers. Time flattened into a blade when she wielded it.

“Mom…” he pleaded. He worried she would twist the knife. She could have. He was fragile then.

But she seemed to realize she was pushing too far. Gently, she cupped the side of his face. He leaned into the touch, not caring that her eyes were still sharp. 

“Don’t get cruel,” she said.

Paris withered beneath the gaze, nodding his agreement.

~

Paris looking all over the castle for him. As he stumbled from room to empty room, his dread grew as he realized where he would find him.

He turned the handle of the basement stairs, tracing slowly down to the lower level. To his surprise, Simon was right in the middle of leaving. The scientist shot him a dirty look as he passed, which Paris refused to even dignify. As if he was any better.

In the center of the large basement, the interior bedroom still stood upright. The lock was off of the enclosure now and they’d given Delta a bedroom in the upstairs. But half of his belongings were still in the cage that had been constructed for him.

Paris knocked at the door.

“Yes?” Delta called at the first knock.

“Can you come out?” 

He knew the door was likely unlocked, but he had never stepped into Delta’s room before. To do so now felt like too much of an intrusion.

Almost immediately after the request, the door opened. Delta hovered in the entrance way. He’d taken the jacket off. 

“I had permission,” Delta protested weakly. He knew there was nothing he could really do to defend himself, in the end. The resignation was obvious in his voice.

“You’re not in trouble.” Paris promised, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender.

He didn’t expect it to do anything. But almost imperceptibly, the muscles of Delta’s shoulders relaxed.

~

In the garden, well into the night, Paris wove flowers in between his hands. 

“Do you want it?” He held the crown up to Delta.

“Yes, please.”

Delta placed the daffodils gently onto his head, careful not to disrupt their arrangement.

“Can you teach me how to make those?” he asked.

“Mhm,” Paris agreed. After a few seconds of working himself up to it, he followed: “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

Delta seemed caught off-guard by this, like he didn’t know what the term meant. Even though he said it at every provocation. It was quiet after that. That was fine. His mom said he had to apologize, never said he had to he forgiven.

“I know he didn’t love me,” Delta said. “I’m not…trying to contradict you. I know he didn’t love me. That’s not what it was.”

The both of them stared out onto the lake. The water reflected starlight off the surface. Even late into the night, the grass was still warm with the midday sun.

“But I do miss him,” Delta admitted. 

Paris nodded, afraid to do anything else. He couldn’t agree. But he understood. Delta continued.

“Thank you for letting me stay here. I know you don’t like it. I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you.”

“What?” Paris winced as he sat up. “It’s not difficult. What are you talking about?”

Delta recoiled a bit, like he’d overstepped. He kind of had. Paris rarely heard him speak so much at one time, let alone like this.

“I know you didn’t want me here.” He drew his legs closer in on himself. He was bracing himself now, definitely, still expecting to be hit. But he kept talking. “When I first arrived. You or y- Her Majesty. Thank you for letting me stay anyway.”

Oh. Paris felt the guilt well up inside him. He was right, obviously. They didn’t want him there. Of course they hadn’t been receptive to the Emperor bringing home a child in chains, to his building him a prison within their basement. 

He hadn’t realized Delta had picked up on the hostility. The thought never even occurred to him. He really hadn’t been thinking about Delta at all.

“You were a kid,” Paris said quickly. “That wasn’t- Nobody blamed you. You get that, right? We weren’t mad at you.”

Delta ran one claw around the daffodil petals, feeling their shape. He swallowed, “I was scared.”

Paris sat with that for a second, returning his gaze to the water where it was easier to look. He recalled the day’s incident, feeling much worse for it.

“You can take what you want from his room,” Paris amended. “Honestly, he’d probably want you to have it.” 

Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the bitter edge from his voice. Why was it only ever about what Constantine wanted? Why was there never room for anything else?

“I’m sorry, Paris.” Delta said quietly.

Paris blinked in surprise.

“It’s not your fault,” he replied automatically, trying again to reassure him. “I’m not mad at you.”

“I know.” Delta agreed. “But I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

The grief was worst at night. He ran his hands through the grass, feeling his throat tighten.

“…Me too.”

~~~

tags:

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

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

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @floral-comet-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

@bacillusinfection @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump

@jumpywhumpywriter @whump-till-ya-jump

[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)

Tertuary (day#), 1385

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.

Hope you liked it! No taglist so far, so let me know if you want to be on one for this!

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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.”

[demonicsuffrage]

Damian worried about Dick is so precious that's literally his batman