#mention of starvation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheesecakethots · 1 year ago

Note

Hellooooo, good morning from my side of the world. I saw a post about regretful yanderes, so can I please get a regretful yandere ask for the hxh adult trio with Feitan pleaaaaseeeeee🥺🥺. Ignore if it's too much trouble.

From your one and only crazy chicken 🐔🐔

ok i kinda struggle with hxh trio having regret because like. they don’t seem the type to. kinda?

below the cut: hisoka (very short), chrollo, Illumi, feitan

hisoka. 0 regret. horrific man. will not ever feel bad about whatever he does to you.

chrollo and illumi are a little bit tricky for me.

chrollo keeps up with the gentleman act, but has zero regret in taking you away. his punishments are also very thought out and planned, so i don’t think he’d come to regret them, as in his eyes you truly deserved what was coming to you. i can see him feeling some ounce of regret when you push him too far and the act drops; he might lash out and leave you with at most a broken wrist. he’d feel bad if you started going quiet after that, but mostly because he enjoys talking to you so much.

but i also think that something in the heart he thought he didn’t have starts aching at the sight of you crying. i imagine this in a scenario where you’ve been with him for a while now, and you haven’t been lashing out or trying to escape. he’s usually very in tune with your emotions, but for a split second when he looks up from his book to see you silently crying he feels his eyes widen, and breathing halt. the feeling in his chest is probably the closest thing he can have to actual regret.

illumi is similar in the fact that his punishments are very thought out, however i see them also being much more extreme. with chrollo if you run you get a condescending caress of your cheek before being knocked out and carried back. with illumi you could end up with two broken ankles. he’ll get some form of silent pleasure at carrying you around everywhere and having you rely on him entirely, so don’t give him the opportunity to do so.

illumi doesn’t like seeing you sad though. when he stalked you for like… two days before just taking you for himself, he felt something in his chest grow warm at watching you interact with things that made you happy (not people, though. that made him feel a little bit sickly.) seeing you play with a stray cat on your way home from work had him thinking that you would be a good mother. the next morning you woke up in the zoldyck estate, so… yeah.

you might become quiet the more time you spend with him, thinking that maybe that’s what he wants of you. he’ll regret if he makes you feel like that - like chrollo, he’s also hooked on the sound of your voice. he’s just a lot less obvious about it.

similarly to chrollo i imagine he doesn’t like seeing you cry. you’re his wife, you should be happy. it kinda depends on why you’re crying though. if it’s because of him he’s probably already convinced that he’s done nothing wrong and that you should get over it. if it’s his family, he’ll probably have a talk to them to see what happened. if it’s anyone else he’s seeing red. quite literally too; whoever it is will be drained of all blood they have available.

now. feitan. hrm.

as far as i’ve seen of him feitan seems to be one of the worst yans you could be stuck with. is mad at you for the fact that he’s in love. has considered many times just killing you so he can be rid of all of these feelings but every time he just can’t bring himself to, and it makes him more mad.

definitely sadistic. he doesn’t care to explain to you why you’ve made him mad sometimes, and it’ll be hard to know if you have because he’s always mad. the only time you see him content is when he’s come back from torturing someone (and also when he watches you sleep but you don’t need to know that.)

being with him is like walking on thin ice while wearing a suit made out of molten lava.

his punishments will hurt. bad. expect a lot of bruises or broken bones, and he’s pretty fast to dish them out. he actively enjoys seeing you cry, so that isn’t going to help with anything.

but. i can actually feeling some sort of regret at times. very VERY rarely, though.

one time he locked you in the basement for a couple of days, forgetting that you needed food and water to quite literally survive. you couldn’t really focus on much when he came back, but you could swear you saw actual panic in his expression.

he never apologises for things like that, but you’ll find yourself warm in bed, some microwaveable meal you enjoy on the table next to you, as well as maybe a book or game you used to go on about. it’s pretty much the only form of regret you’ll get from him, but you’ll take it over anything else.

#tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere chrollo #yandere hxh #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere hxh x reader #tw kidnap mention #yandere illumi zoldyck #yandere illumi x reader #yandere illumi zoldyck x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere feitan #yandere feitan x reader #tw starvation

289 notes · View notes

whumperofworlds · 7 months ago

Text

Whumpee who is overconfident. They think they could get out of any situation. And they could!

Then Whumper came along, taking Whumpee captive. For days. Weeks. Months. Being tortured, starved, and so on, with no rescue in sight.

And for once, Whumpee's confidence fades.

#whump #whump prompt #captivity #torture mention #starvation mention

84 notes · View notes

paingoes · 27 days ago

Text

Destroyer Bonus - Glow

something lighter after the last update

@pumpkin-spice-whump sent an ask game about “best memories” w paris and delta and it made me sad because yeah there arent many! but there are a few. heres one of the softer ones. ft. drunk!Delta

(Content: living weapon whumpee, dehumanization, touch starved, implied physical abuse, alcohol, power imbalances, war mention, passing drugs mention)

“What do you mean they surrendered?” Paris’s phone charms clicked together as he paced up and down the hall. “When? Just now?”

Delta listened at the other end of the hall, taking careful notice of the silent pauses that marked it as a phone argument, not a normal argument. The former always disappointed him. He liked hearing both sides so he could figure out who to root for.

“Well what the fuck did I come here for then?” Paris’s voice was more whiny than angry this time. “We already unpacked!”

Most of the ship’s cargo had been emptied to set up a new base camp, most of the soldiers already occupied with its assembly. The relative vacancy of the ship made all sound echo within it.

He heard Paris curse, the call ending abruptly, and the footsteps approaching. Delta peeked out of the alcove he’d been hiding out in.

“Not on?” He mouthed.

Paris jumped back in surprise, but recovered quickly. He rolled his eyes.

“No, we’re not on,” he said. “I didn’t call you, did I?”

Paris shooed him away, even though he’d been there first. He was barely looking at him, all his attention still absorbed in the broken screen.

“Go to your room.”

He went to his room.

That was fine. He was never unhappy about cancellations. Even before his little moral doubts had started nagging at him, the work was hard on his body, even harder on his brain. He didn’t mind going back to his room. It meant he wouldn’t have to do anything today — and he was always so grateful for any rest.

He stared at the book he’d been reading until the room had grown so dark he could not see the pages. When he finally came to, it was pitch black outside the windows. He didn’t know how much time had passed. There came a knocking from out in the hallway.

The only light that came through to him was a thin line of orange beneath the door. Shadows crossed over it. He heard giggling, faintly. He didn’t bother to turn the lamp on before he opened it.

Sierra stood in the doorway, one hand flying to her mouth coyly as if to conceal her smile. She was flanked by her other handmaidens. Without the standard coifs and corsets, they were almost unrecognizable. They were dressed all in white, though the fabric of the gowns was frayed and torn at the edges. Their hair was undone in loose, messy curls.

“Hi Delta,” Sierra waved, then covered her mouth again in faux shyness. “We’re having a party, cause like, there’s nothing else to do here. We were wondering if you wanted to come out?”

He blinked, his head still foggy as he was emerging from the fantasy novel. He stared back at her tiredly and did not even consider the offer.

“I’m not allowed to leave the ship,” he said.

Sierra shook her head, smiling wider.

“Already asked. His Majesty said it’s alright.”

She slipped on the title, or she was being mean. Delta wasn’t convinced either way.

“He wouldn’t say that.”

She held up a small slip of paper.

𝒮𝒾𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒹𝑜 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓈.

𝒫𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓈 ♡

He went to tell Simon he was leaving, just to cover all his bases, but found his office empty. It was a total ghost ship. The girls hadn’t been lying. It seemed like everyone onboard had gone out to the encampment.

There seemed no better use for it, if they weren’t going to be fighting, if they weren’t leaving until tomorrow.

He followed them down the ramp, dressed more casually than he usually did for any “party” occasion, but still done up in the way they had liked. He didn’t argue.

He began to regret the easiness with which he had followed them as they walked past the groups of soldiers. He did not actually want to be near any of them if they were getting loaded, or even if they weren’t. They were too rough, too entitled. They thought he had to answer to them — and though he didn’t, he did not have the boldness to correct them. Not that they would’ve listened anyway.

But Sierra did not stop at the main camp, though some of the girls did peel off to see all the commotion. She led Delta and the others out on the knoll.

There was a crop of trees surrounding a stone pit. He watched her struggle to start a fire there before finally offering to do it himself, igniting the wood with electricity until it caught flame. He blushed at the cheers he got for that. It was nothing.

They had only taken him out as a toy. He had no misconceptions about that. He sat down in the spot where they’d indicated, keeping his posture straight so as not to throw off their machinations.

They talked amongst themselves while they worked. He caught the edges of their conversations, found none of it especially relevant but entertaining enough. It was more entertaining the more drinks they slipped into his hand. The girls seemed to get the same rebellious thrill out of his drunkenness that he got out of being drunk. Martino would’ve killed him if he knew. He drank in spite of, or maybe because of this.

He liked the way the night air felt against his skin. He was grateful to have experienced it before they made the return trip. As large as the ship was, it could easily become claustrophobic after enough time spent in deep space. It made him crazy, sometimes.

He flinched at the abruptness of the contact, then gradually relaxed underneath it. He was so unused to gentle touch. As the maid’s hand moved through his hair and down along his neck, he had to stop himself from leaning into it. It was hard for him to recognize anything as want, but in this, he came close. The touch was fleeting. It never lasted long.

They braided flowers into his hair, stopping every few minutes to check their progress.

He hadn’t realized Sierra had left until she reappeared. In the dark, their silhouettes all looked the same. She came back over the promenade. Paris tread casually beside her.

Delta tensed a bit, fearing Sierra’s permit had not actually been all-inclusive, that he was not actually supposed to be outside. But Paris didn’t look very shocked to see him. He tousled his hair absently as he passed behind him, made no other acknowledgment.

As usual, he followed Paris’s voice before any other sound. He couldn’t keep himself from listening in on their conversation, even if he wanted to.

“-not like it’s real. You’d know if it was.”

“It isn’t, though. I’ve always known it’s not real, that doesn’t make it any-“

“My brother used to get those. They gave him Ativan for it.”

“I tried that already.”

Another flower was braided into Delta’s hair. All the stars were out. The music carried over from the main camp, not deafening the way it must have been at its source, but pleasantly muted by the distance.

Paris held the bottle in his periphery, shaking it gently, like a lure. Delta took it. The prince’s attention immediately left him, did not wait to see his reaction. An offer, then, not an order. Delta drank it anyway.

It was only when Paris sat down by the other side of the fire that Delta noticed the laurel wreath woven into his hair. He’d never seen it before, did not know where he had found it.

“Hi,” Delta said, already very drunk.

“Hey,” Paris shrugged, more sober than he normally was this time of night.

Sierra was laying down on the other side of them, playing on her phone. There was no way she had a signal out here. She was feeding a virtual cat with blue pellets, watching the status bar go up.

“Do you remember when the Emperor first got you?”

He said the Emperor, instead of my father. Delta tried to remember if he’d ever said the word dad. At most, he would call him the old man, but it was stark and without any playfulness. It was accurate. The Emperor had been old, even when the two of them were just children. Too old not to have a succession plan.

Before Delta could respond, one of the maids snapped her fingers by his face. He turned around.

“Stay like that,” she said before blinding him with the camera’s flash. He stayed like that, holding still as she took a few more. The only experience he’d had with cameras was in clinical settings. He held the same indifferent expression he’d been coached to wear, which to be fair, was not very different from how he normally looked.

“Delete those,” Paris said without much passion. It was against protocol, but it was clear he didn’t really care either way. He turned his attention back to Delta. “That trick with the dragon. Can you still do it?”

He couldn’t believe he even remembered that. Delta had found it insanely gaudy at the time, even more so as his tastes had developed. He realized, a bit sadly, that the purchase anniversary was coming up. He wondered if they’d send a card.

“No.” Delta shook his head. It’d been a party trick, never repeated. “I couldn’t do it in the dark, anyway.”

At that same instant, the fireworks went off in the distance. Paris flinched, moving both hands protectively to the back of his skull like he anticipated an attack from behind. When none came, and there was only red and purple across the sky, his expression changed from embarrassment to annoyance and then eventually relief. The fireworks weren’t from their camp. They’d come from across the river. Not his responsibility.

Nobody else seemed to see him flinch, so Delta pretended not to either. His attention drifted back to the fireworks alone.

They were impressive for what they were. Nothing compared to the sheer shock and awe of the campaigns that could have just as easily lit up the sky that night. He could have spent all night trying to stop the bleeding from his mouth, the numb static in his hands. He was glad they’d surrendered. He knew that this was how he was meant to be used, what the Emperor had intended. The threat of destruction was almost more powerful than the carnage itself. He wished it could play out this way more often, without anyone actually having to die.

The case clanked noisily to the ground. Sierra knelt over top of it with her hands on her hips, before giddily prying off the lid.

The interior was bright with all the different paints held inside of it. They were some algae derivative, bioluminescent, glow-in-the-dark.

Sierra licked the tip of her paint brush. Her other hand moved to take Paris’s. He offered it without resistance, about as used to being handled by her as Delta was. Well, not quite as much.

In thin lines, she traced shapes over the back of his hand and along his wrists. She scooted closer to him to drag the brush along his cheekbone.

Delta hadn’t realized until then just how much the two of them resembled each other. Pale skin, light gold hair. But she looked more alive than he did. Paris took the brush from her.

As he watched Paris paint the dahlia in careful strokes along her cheek, Delta was overcome with the sense that none of them belonged here.

It passed quickly, the way it always did. It had to.

He startled a bit as Paris caught him looking. He couldn’t exactly hide his staring in the dark, both his eyes shining like headlights. He hadn’t meant to stare.

Paris quirked one eyebrow at him. He uncurled his hand, waiting a second. When he was met with no resistance, he finished the gesture, curling the fingers back inward. Here.

Delta arranged himself carefully in front of him, offering his wrist. Paris took it, readjusting his arm to have a better angle at the canvas. Like before, he was almost overwhelmed by the touch, so unused to any softness that he thought he might’ve just lost sensation.

The paint was more cool than he’d been expecting, like river clay. Pale green. Paris made the first marks with his fingers. They were loose ferns and vines. Soon after he switched back to the brush. It moved in smooth, tickling arcs. The old lines were cleaned up. New ones were drawn on more precisely.

Sierra had marked Paris in the traditional style, mostly roses and spirals along his veins. He’d done hers in the same way. The marks Paris left on Delta’s skin were different. He did not understand why they looked so familiar. After a few drunken seconds, he recognized them. He’d seen them scrawled out along the columns of the Imperial churches. They were bind runes. Protective sigils.

He flinched as his chin was tilted back up.

“Not gonna hurt you,” Paris said.

He was embarrassed that his flinch reflex had gotten so overactive, though frankly it was Paris’s fault. He didn’t sound annoyed though, or even particularly surprised. He had to have known it just as well.

Delta closed his eyes. The brush tip was slick against his face and not altogether unpleasant. Oddly gentle.

After a few strokes, Paris clicked his tongue in disappointment, “You’re already glowing.”

It was true. The glow wouldn’t stand out on him the way it would on the others. If anything, the paint might’ve blotted out the light from his freckles. But the color would show. He still wanted it.

Paris painted a few more lines beneath his eyes. His eyebrows were knit in concentration; he was taking this more seriously than he needed to. Even without seeing them, Delta could feel just how tight and tidy the lines were. It was a collection of five point stars.

While they’d been working, the other maids had done themselves up just the same, their practiced hands moving much quicker. The patterns they had drawn along their arms seemed to come to life as they moved amongst the flickering shadows.

Delta settled back against the tree. He finished out the last of the bottle. His skin felt strange and newly exposed, like the brush had cut him open. It’d still felt nice at the time.

He was drifting off. Everything was fading out into a pleasant haze. All he could focus on were the golden embers and the way they drifted upwards into the black sky.

“You kept him up past his bedtime,” he heard Paris chiding. It sounded like it was coming from very far away. Sierra giggled a bit in response, not unkindly.

“Can I…?” His own voice faded out. He asked out of politeness, but he did not feel it was something he had much control over anymore.

“You’re good.”

Delta fell asleep right there on the grass, wrapped up in the strange glow of night.

~~~

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 @dietofwormsofficial @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump

@jumpywhumpywriter

#whump #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump writing #living weapon whumpee #dehumanization #touch starved #implied physical abuse #alcohol #power imbalances #war mention #passing drugs mention #touch starvation #destroyer #delta #paris #sierra #first three beers dont count if you’re autistic #delta is so starved for positive attention

45 notes · View notes

phleb0tomist · 7 months ago

Text

the recent surge of articles on severe ME is shattering my heart. we’re looking at a live, ongoing portfolio of the NHS’s failure to protect young ME patients, the same failures that cast a shadow over both my childhood and my current life, and it’s so wild that things aren’t changing. there’s no repair, no apology for the highly preventable suffering or the deaths, which are mostly young women.

the improper care of ME patients isn’t because of a lack of funding, it’s because of ignorance & stubbornness. the bare minimum of appropriate care to prevent a severe ME patient from getting worse is to allow them to be somewhere dark, quiet, lying down, hydrated & fed, and somehow the NHS can’t even provide that. my main shred of hope is that this is finally being reported and i wonder if that will be the catalyst for a little bit of repair. i’m desperate to believe it will be

#feel free to reblog. it means a lot that ppl are becoming aware #txt #negative #medical trauma #medical.#severe myalgic encephalomyelitis #myalgic encephalomyelitis #chronic illness #starvation tw #death mention #let me know if more trigger tags are required

76 notes · View notes

antiendosystemterms · 7 months ago

Text

Starving alter

An alter formed from trauma related to starvation or not having enough food to eat.

((term made by us. Flag made by us.))

#did #actually did #anti endo #did system #endos dni #system #endos fuck off #alter #alter terms #system terms #tw starvation mention #tw food talk

52 notes · View notes

whump-galaxy · 4 months ago

Text

“Want some food? You haven’t eaten anything since you’ve been here.”

“…”

“I promise it’s not poisoned. It doesn’t taste great, but it’s not poison.”

#whump #fear #angst #caretaker #starvation #*offers hardtack in the trying time*#poison #<mentioned #recovery whump

45 notes · View notes

angstyaches · 3 months ago

Text

Augusnippets Day 15

Prompt: Starvation, requested by🐊 anon

OCs: Charlie and Shayne

Word Count: 455

CW: entrapment, prolonged hunger, angst, NO RESOLUTION INCLUDED, it's open-ended and bleaker than most of my fic endings.

Part 2 of 2 - takes place after the events of Day 12.

___

The treetops swayed, untroubled, against the pale blue glow of late evening. Charlie watched, breaths slow, body still, conserving energy. Conserving it for what, he didn’t know, but... hopefully for something.

The quiet was split, not by a growl from Charlie’s clenching stomach, but by a scream. The forest floor trembled under a faltering surge of power. The shimmering walls that stretched up towards the sky didn't even wobble.

“Stop it, lovely.”

Shayne spun around, his hair soaked with stale rainwater and fresh sweat. “What?”

“Just..." Charlie closed his eyes. "Stop.”

“Stop trying to get us out?”

“Yeah.” Charlie spread his hands over his aching belly. It had rained the previous night, and by some mercy the water had come down through the wards, but the hexagon hadn’t provided anything edible yet. “Lie with me. It’s kind of nice down here.”

“You’re fucking joking, right?”

Charlie didn’t dignify that with – or waste his breath on – a response.

There was a soft scuffling of pine needles. Through his damp clothes, Charlie could feel Shayne’s warmth just to the right of his own body. Shayne’s stomach growled audibly as he settled on the ground. He cleared his throat, trying to muffle it, a moment too late. How he still had it in him to feel embarrassed was beyond Charlie. Unfortunately, Shayne had a lot more experience with extended bouts of hunger than Charlie did.

“I’m..."

Charlie turned his head and opened his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, love." The hollow pits under Shayne’s eyes were almost as dark as his hair. The lines of his cheeks and jaws were too sharp. “I’m supposed to be the one who knows about this shit, I should – I should be able to –”

“Stop.” Charlie frowned. “I get it. I’d do anything to get us – even just to get you out of this, lovely, if I could. We’re on the same page here. It’s... not just you who feels helpless.”

Charlie wasn’t sure if it had been the right thing to say or not, but he was out of breath by the time he finished speaking. His stomach shifted with each breath he’d drawn to force out the words, until it squeezed out a sluggish, acidic growl.

“Not even sure if I’m hungry anymore,” Charlie admitted. “I just feel...”

“Sick.”

Charlie nodded. Shayne blinked harshly and looked up towards the darkening sky. Charlie did the same. As the sun went down, the wards' glare became harsher to look at.

“This is not nice,” Shayne murmured.

“No.”

“You’re a liar.”

They reached for each other’s hands at the same time, their fingers hooking together as their wrists rested on the forest floor.

“Yeah,” Charlie whispered. “But at least you’re not wasting your strength anymore.”

___

@augusnippets

#Augusnippets #Augusnippets Day 15 #starvation #starvation mention #hunger mention #environmental whump #angst #angst fic #StW Shayne #StW Charlie #Swallow the World #they're not gonna die I promise #just gotta marinate in angst for a little while

22 notes · View notes

brainr0t-landfill · 9 months ago

Text

🌃Mercurial:

Ghoap x male reader

Chapter One/Prologue: Abstain

"I found you, I found the door."

-Mitski, I Want You

(please mind the tags, I don't know how the UK train system works, English isn't my first language apologies for any mistakes <3)

You kiss them goodbye on the doorway, you make sure their jackets are zipped up, you promise to keep the windows locked and to not go out at night, Simon smiles, his eyes crinkling above the surgical mask.

"Gonna be good for us, hare? Sure hope so."

It's half joking, half threatening and desperately hopeful.You focus on the spot between his eyes as you nod, stomach twisting into knots and hands sweating.

You press your ear to the metal door and listen to their footsteps fading away then you rush to the balcony and watch the black, truck you repainted last month go down the road, through the U turn and disappear, your knuckles white against the railings your forearms stiff, eyes so wide and unlinking untill they water and force you to blink. You're scared that any moment now the other shoe will drop, they'll turn the car around and John will ask you if you really took them for such fools as Simon rumages through drawers and wardrobes laying every bit of your pitifull escape plan on the floor, like a wolf gutting a hare. Then you'll be driven back to the lonely, stuffy shack in the woods in the trunk, hogtied and gagged, feeling every bump on the road.

The trunk opens and you shut your eyes against the onslaught of white hard light, nose stinging from the cold as you curl into yourself out of both fear and well deserved shame, guilt. They're talking above you, familiar voices blurring together and becoming white noise. You feel like an insect pinned down, getting dissected.

Someone places their hand over your eyes, rubbing at your red, runny nose with their calloused thumb.

"Oh lovie."

"Carefull Si, cannea back out now."

There's silence for a second and you know they're exchanging the kind of look that saves their lives out on the field, the kind of look that explains and understands.

"Gotta let him learn his lesson ,hmm?"

"No other choice left."

Simon runs his hand over your face and rubs at your neck, that still smells of someone else. Mature and cold with hints of narcissus.You can see his internal conflict in his darkned eyes and see you can see his attachment, his love, his despration winning out.

You look up at them at Simon's wide set face and his unfocussed eyes dried out from lack of sleep, John bends down and picks you out of the truck setting you down on aching feet, still clad in socks as he flicks his knife out, a flash of fear goes through you, gutted by the same knife you had bought for him on his birthday, how fitting.

"Run 'n I'll break ya legs,."

"Last resort Si, might never heal proper again."

"Wouldn't tha' a good thing by now?"

You hear a sigh, both exasperated and heartbroken.

"Hope not."

Simon holds you in place by the shoulders as John cuts the ropes away, his jaw is set but his sweet blue eyes are wet, tired and you can't help the immense guilt you feel at putting them through this, for pushing them so far, for staying when you knew you'd do this.

Then you lift your face and see it, the cabin it's a box really, no windows and only one heavy door, John had mentioned his father had built one for hunting ,you wonder if it's the same one. You look over the dark wood walls and the door padlocked from the outside, your fear snowballs, all consuming and rattling your ribs. The idea of being trapped in the small, dark space is nauseating, it terrifies you in a way so primal, so reflex you think you'll bolt for a second, you think you'll beg scream, anything, anything. John straightens up and caresses your face.

"Just for a little while hare, just 'till Si n' I are back from this misson, then we'll come 'n get ya, promised we'd never leave eachothe, remember?."

He rips the tape off your mouth and gives you a soft sweet kiss, familiar lips failing to settle you for the first time, well groomed stubble scratchy against your moist skin, Simon presses his cheek against yours.

"It has everything ya need and we'll be back before you know it, just behave yourself and you'll never have to see this place again."

His voices is gravel against your skin, his breath smoke but you can't focus on them pressing against you on either side or the ropes laying undone on the grass.

All you can see is the cabin, the padlock, the wardens, the convict.

You had stayed for a long time in that cabin, long enough for your food to start running out, long enough to grow both lovesick and resentfull, long enough to get yourself together and fix the old, busted hunting camera you had found shoved between the wall and the bed.

You bought two flasdrives a week ago before their deployment and hid them in your tool box, on one you upload images of the cabin, of chains, of bruises, dents in the wall and your room ransacked time and time again.You know it's not a strong case and it's not meant to be. It's supposed to be a reminder for what you did, what you're running from, your sentencing.

On the other flash drive you upload all your happy memories, screenshots of loving wordsand jokes, selfies together, pictures of gifts and vacations, the apartment you saved up for with them. To keep you warm, souvenirs from the last place you settled in, from the last place you let yourself be loved.

You tuck them into the struddiest back pack you own, four changes of clothes, underwear, very basic toiletries, some fancy jewellery you'll have to pawn off later on. The money, fake ID and passport you had hidden in the inner lining of one of the coats John's forgotten about a long time ago, discarded at the back of his closet.

You pack the bag in under ten minutes just the way you practiced, the hard part is the note, you write over and over again palms sweaty and hands shaky eventually you settle on;

'Stay safe, I love you, goodbye.' Flowery language and false promises feel ingenuine when you're leaving everything the three of you have worked for, everything they'd tied their hearts to , it feels cowardly when you're running away. You leave the crumpled up notes on the top of the trash and your shared card on the table. You keep your promise ring in your pocket.

The walk to the train station is torture, every loud step is Simon, every wide shoulder or brown jacket is John, you feel like you're drowning in a pool filled with snippets of them, like driftwood caught in a storm much bigger than he'll ever comprehend. You either dread the day they'll be nothing but memories or salivate for it, you can't decide with the overwhelming panic, the sick excitement.You buy a day pass and a burner phone before you throw away your cell phone.

The bus ride is calmer, when you don't think about the pub you met in, the small flower shop you routinely bought foxgloves and bluebells from, the record shop Johnny loves, the workplace Simon insisted he drove you to whenever he could; the lufe you're betraying, the blessings you're running from.

You sit arms crossed and face hidden under your hood as you watch the city flash by, the further away from home you get the more guilt you feel; guilt for letting them in, guilt for misguiding them, guilt for aggravating them again and again and again untill either one snapped, guilt for leaving when you had just convinced them you wouldn't even think of it.

You swallow it down and watch the city speed away colors blurring like oil paint.

Next Chapter >>

47 notes · View notes

waywardstation · 6 months ago

Text

WIP FRIDAY

I apologize for getting this out two days late, I’ve been busy with lots of packing and events! But I have a little reprieve, so I wanted to post another WIP; this one is from Heart Full, Bowl Empty.

BE AWARE THAT THIS SEGMENT INVOLVES A CONVERSATION REVOLVING AROUND UNWILLING BUT INTENTIONAL STARVATION. I know there are people who say they can’t read this fic because of themes like this, so be aware of this before reading this WIP!!

I included this snippet in today’s WIP because I have like three versions of the entire segment this snippet is from. I feel like it’s a really important segment with a really important conversation, and I’ve had a hard time balancing all the emotions the way I want to between Ingo and Akari, with frustration, sadness, anger, and empathy, to realistically get them to the resolution I want at the end of it.

The final version will probably only include a few parts from this particular segment.

Enjoy!!

—————

“I knew it! You’re doing it again!” Akari’s eyebrows scrunched, trying to understand through the frustration. “You said you wouldn’t!”

“Circumstances will improve soon.” Clearly done with the conversation, that was all Ingo said, but it was confession enough that he had fallen back on his word. Shame contaminated his voice, but if there was any regret, he hid it well.

“No, it won’t!” They were not even half-way through winter yet. “And you know it won’t!”

Ingo said nothing as the kits carefully moved around his slumped form, finding comfortable places to settle around him. She didn’t know if he intended to snuff the conversation out with angered silence, or if he was just too exhausted to care about arguing with her anymore. If it wasn’t for his small occasional signs of movement or acknowledgement, she’d think he was actually sleeping.

Akari carefully stepped into the nesting layers, moving to sit down next to Ingo. She settled with her back against the cavern wall, pulling her knees close as a few kits shuffled around to accommodate her. “You know I’m right.”

Huffing out an irritated sigh and nothing more, it didn’t seem like Ingo had any intentions to engage with her argument anymore.

“You couldn’t even pull yourself up over the ridge,” She prodded at him again, trying to motivate more conversation out of him. “I had to help you!”

“There are many, many factors that go into that.” A reluctant answer, perhaps a reflexive attempt to quell her worry; Ingo feebly rubbed his wrapped hand, almost as a display for his excuse.

“I’ve seen you do more when you’ve been hurt worse.” Akari retorted, a little softer now but still cold.

Ingo’s eyes remained closed, though his hardened expression implied that it came across as more accusatory than she’d intended. But perhaps it was precisely the time to be accusatory.

“Ingo, you’re so tired all the time now – you stopped coming to the training grounds because you just can’t make the trips all the time anymore! And you’re sleeping so much more than you used to, and it’s like you’re always hungry all the time, even though all I see you doing anymore is gathering food!” Akari’s voice grew more jagged as she continued to jab at him, entirely uninterrupted.

It was getting difficult. With Ingo’s tunic still sopping by the bucket, still somewhat red from the exhausted effort of washing out the blood, it could not hide the ribs that pressed out just a little bit more, or help fill out what the waistline had lost under the loosening belt. The abject dread of directly acknowledging that was too much.

“And- and look! You aren’t even willing to hold a conversation with me anymore, and I don’t know if it’s because you just won’t, or because you can’t!” The kits shifted uncomfortably as Akari retreated back into her own frustration instead. “People think you’re sick, Ingo! They’re asking me about you! What are you doing?”

The exhausted man remained where he laid in the nesting material, only moving his hands to rub at his face and sigh — a deep, forced sigh that swelled his side before releasing. Akari almost didn’t think he’d answer her, but with some effort, he propped himself up first onto his elbows, then slumped forward. The teen watched him run shaky fingers through his hair as he sat next to her.

“…I don’t know what I should do.” The guilt. The weary guilt cracked his voice and tore Akari’s anger down to heartache.

#ref for fic #BE AWARE THIS IS DISCUSSING INTENTIONAL BUT UNWILLING STARVATION #tw starvation #just in case #cause I know not everyone vibes with this story #and I’ll say it’s been weird myself returning to these segments I wrote months ago and re-reading them #AND TO BE MORE CAREFUL I talk about a personal situation sort of dealing with this below #a lot has happened in the timeframe of originally writing this and coming back to this #at the end of fall I got very very sick and it lasted well into February #I unwillingly shed thirty-five pounds because I could not eat #and I didn’t notice at all until I stopped and realized just how tight I had to make my work belt #even when family members pointed it out during the holidays when they’d hug me #it wasn’t until someone got very concerned and did something about it that I realized just how bad it was #I’m sure people remember when I mentioned I had gastritis #that’s what all this was I just never really went into detail about how bad it truely was here #so coming back and reading this segment specifically #having written it months before I went through any of this #felt really really weird and a little uncomfortable #I edited Akari’s accusations a little to fit my situation more about a month back #because I did not realize just how much more stuff like this would make you want to sleep #at least in my experience #but it’s been very very just #strange I guess coming back to this #it doesn’t make me want to not work on HFBE anymore it just feels very weird

29 notes · View notes