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merlinpendragoon · 7 years ago

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How do you know that I’m on Tumblr on the PC? I start answering all the stuff I was tagged in ages ago ^^

I’ve also been tagged by my beloved Matey @napoleonsolos

Rules: Answer all questions, add one question of your own and tag as many people as there are questions. (I don’t even know so many people)

1. Coke or Pepsi: I actually don’t really care about that. I wouldn’t say it tastes the same, but it tastes both good, so...

2. Disney or Dreamworks: Definitely both, you can’t make me choose between The Lion King and Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron

3. Coffee or tea: Tea

4. Books or movies: Both as welll

5. Windows or Mac: Windows

6. DC or Marvel: Depends. At the moment I would say DC, but after watching Iron Man again, I would probably say Marvel again.

7. X-Box or Playstation: I never had either of them, so I don’t know which one might be better.

8. Dragon Age or Mass Effect: Again, I don’t know either of them, but I would start Mass Effect before Dragon Age, because I’ve heard more about that.

9. Night owl or early riser: Neither, I sleep too much.

10. Cards or chess: Both

11. Chocolate or vanilla: Definitely Chocolate

12. Vans or Converse: I’d probably prefer Converse, but I own neither.

13. Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar: Uhm... What’s that?

14. Fluff or angst: For reading Fluff, for writing Angst, just because it’s fun to watch your readers suffer.

15. Beach or forest: Depends on my mood, so both, I guess

16. Dogs or cats: Cats

17. Clear skies or rain: Clear skies in the night and warm summer rain during the day

18. Cooking or eating out: Cooking

19. Spicy food or mild food: Both, I think

20. Halloween/Samhain or Solstice/Yule/Christmas: Christmas

21. Would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: A little too hot

22. If you could have a superpower, what would it be: Transforming into any animal or being able to control animals

23. Animation or live action: Depends on the content of the movie

24. Paragon or Renegade: Renegade, but only in specific situations

25. Baths or showers: Showers

26. Team Cap or Team Iron Man: Definitely Team Tony

27. Fantasy or sci-fi: Both, but a bit more Fantasy

28. Do you have three or four favourite quotes, if so what are they:

“My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: Do it or do not do it; you will regret both.” - Soren Kierkegaard

“Scio me nescire.” (”I know that I know nothing.”) - Socrates

"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light." - Albus Dumbledore (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Askaban)

29. YouTube or Netflix: YouTube, but I guess, once I have a Netflix Account, it will be Netflix

30. Harry Potter or Percy Jackson: Always a Potterhead

31. When you feel accomplished: I don’t know actually, I hardly had that feeling in a long time

32. Star Wars or Star Trek: Both, although I would lean towards Star Trek

33. Paperback books or hardback books: Paperback

34. Fantastic Beasts or Cursed Child: Fantastic Beasts

35. Evans, Pratt, Hemsworth, or Pine: Uhm, neither? ^^

36. Handwriting or Typing: Depends on what I’m writing. Stories I’m usually typing, because I want them anyway on the PC

37. Velvet or Satin: I don’t care actually

38. Video Games or Movies: Depends on my mood again

39. Would you rather be the dragon or own the dragon: Be the Dragon

40. One episode per week or marathoning: Pff, marathoning of course

41. Gandalf or Obi Wan: Gandalf

42. Heroes or villains: Depends on the characters

43. John Williams or Hans Zimmer: Hans Zimmer

44. Disneyland/Disney World or Six Flags: Disneyland

45. Forest or sea: Depends on my mood again ^^

46. Flying or reading minds: Flying, always flying

47. Twin Peaks or Northern Exposure: I don’t know what either of this is?

48. Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings: Come on, how could you ever possibly choose between these two masterpieces?

49. Cake or pie: Cake

50. You are banished to a desert island, which Benedict Cumberbatch character would you choose to take with you: Since I know him only as Khan, Sherlock and Smaug, I think, Smaug would be the most useful to get off the Island

51. Train or cruise ship: Both could be very nice

52. Brian Cox or Neil deGrasse Tyson: Neither?

53. Wizard of Oz or Alice in Wonderland: I’ve never been deep into both of them, so idk

54. Fanfiction or fanart: Fan Fiction

55. The Hunger Games - books or movies: Books, I guess

56: Be able to see the future or travel into the past: Travel into the past. Knowing the future is never good.

57. Han Solo or Luke Skywalker: Luke Skywalker

58. Lilacs or sunflowers: sunflowers

59. Spring or autumn: Both have something special

60. Campfire or fireplace: Campfire

61. French fries or onion rings: French fries

62. Truth or dare: Truth

63. Winter or summer: Summer

64. Vampires or werewolves: Werewolves

65. Red or blue: Blue

66. Eyes or lips: Eyes

67. Burgers or sandwiches: Sandwiches

68. Friends-to-lovers or enemies-to-lovers trope: Enemies-to-lovers. I’d prefer if friends are able to stay platonic friends.

69. Pizza or pasta: Both

70. Ancient Rome or ancient Greece: Ancient Rome

71. Foxes or wolves: Wolves

72. Mermaids or dragons: Dragons of course

73. The Craft or Charmed: Charmed

74. Silly puns or playful sarcasm: Why not both?

75. Superman or Batman: Would you kill me if I said Batman?

My Question: Would you prefer not knowing your Soulmate at all or watching them die?

I tag again @pansexualtriptucker and @bucky-barns, I hope, you don’t mind .-.

#my humble self

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whumpwillow · 2 years ago

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Demon’s Haven 9

I’m also working on Hazeshift I prommy but I’m just feeling this series again, though I’m a little rusty and tryna get back into these characters, so sorry if the writing or interactions feel a little stilted

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masterlist

warnings: blood, past torture, description of wounds, basically just more comf but they are both sad and awkward about it

—

The demon seemed relieved when Haven finally finished washing the wounds on his chest, but it was a short-lived comfort. She moved behind him to start cleaning the blood from the wreckage of his back and knew the worst was yet to come. The demon had been doing well so far, wincing only slightly without uttering a whimper of pain as Haven had dabbed at the cuts and burns on his chest. Looking at his back, such a thing seemed unavoidable now.

She cringed at the sight. Sitting down in the chair behind him, Haven took stock of the damage. There was almost too much blood for her to even see where the wounds were. She couldn’t tell where one injury began and one ended, as if they all melded into his flesh so that there wasn’t a speck of unbroken skin. Long, ropy scars dragged from the tops of his shoulders and down his body, ending at the small of his back, crisscrossed over one another.

Haven sighed. This was not going to be pleasant. For either of them.

The demon’s head turned slightly to the side, as if he meant to catch a glimpse of her, but his hair had fallen into his eyes so it was likely not a clear picture.

“Are you alright?” Haven asked.

She knew he wasn’t, but what else was she supposed to say? How did she comfort someone who had been through something as horrific as this?

The demon nodded lightly, ignoring what Haven could not. Red stripes gouged his back, stretching from his shoulders and moving downwards. Ropes of bloodied wounds overlayed on top of each other, some healed more than not, others fresh and weeping. A grotesque sight that made Haven want to gag, though she swallowed and contained herself.

She wanted to look away. She wanted to run from the room and forget this had ever happened. That this was something that could happen to someone.

But she was done with fearing for nothing—the demon had been hurt already, and there was nothing to undo that fact. Only to cleanse the wounds and bandage them would they disappear from her view.

“This might sting.”

It would do a whole lot more than that. The wounds that littered his skin…Haven didn’t want to believe they could be from a whip, but she didn’t know how else to describe them than as lashes.

The demon nodded again.

Haven touched the wet cloth to the back of the demon’s shoulder and instantly he flinched, drawing out a hiss. Haven drew her hand back.

“Sorry,” the both of them said at the same time.

A beat. Neither of them spoke, neither of them moved. The demon clenched and unclenched a fist.

“Silver,” he said.

Haven waited for him to explain, but as the seconds passed and turned into minutes, she realized he wasn’t going to. She touched the cloth to his shoulder again and ignored the flinch this time, as there was no way to avoid it. She brushed the cloth along a long red gash, trailing in between his shoulder blades and down to the small of his back. Again. And again.

“It’s the silver,” the demon said. “The angel liked the silver-lined whip because it leaves scars.”

Haven paused. Lifted her hand away from his skin. Blinked. She had no idea how to even respond to such a thing.

“That’s horrible.”

The only words she could manage, the only consolation to a man now forever marked by what had happened to him that no healing powers would ever be able to fix. The demon seemed to feel this knowledge as keenly as she did, for he trembled under her fingertips. His skin jumped as tiny tremors ran through him, muscles taut and unyielding.

Haven set her cloth in the bowl of water, already pink with blood. She moved from behind the demon and sat in the chair facing him, and saw that he was crying. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks and his breaths hitched, but he bit his tongue to keep himself from crying out.

“You don’t have to do that,” Haven said.

The demon tilted his face up to look at her, a few more tears escaping from those viridian eyes. He blinked at her. Droplets of water caught in his lashes like morning dew.

“Keep quiet, I mean,” Haven clarified. “Cry all you want. Scream, if you must. I don’t mind.”

The demon blinked a few times, his face pinched in confusion. “You would…like me to scream?”

Haven’s eyes widened. “No, no, that’s not what I meant!”

“I can, if you’d like me to. The angel said it was a pleasing sound, though she was rather more vicious than you.”

Haven exhaled, seconds away from pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “I meant, you don’t have to be quiet! You’ve been hurt, terribly and irrevocably, so you can react to it however you want to, and you needn’t feel ashamed or that you must soften your grief in front of me.”

“Oh.”

The only word that fell from the demon’s lips, plainly and without intonation. He stared at her, watching her again as if she were the only thing he had to keep him from falling into an endless abyss. Haven leaned in and wrapped her arms around him, making sure not to startle him as she enveloped him in a hug. She felt the demon lean into her and nuzzle his face into the crook of her neck, just as he’d done when she’d helped him from the cave she’d summoned him to. Some of the tension in his body dissolved, and while he still shook either with fear or with pain, Haven took it as an improvement that he could find some modicum of comfort with her.

After releasing each other, Haven found her hands red with blood. The demon opened his mouth, no doubt to apologize, but Haven shushed him before he could. She washed her hands with her cleaning cloth before dropping it back in the bowl of water.

“I could draw you a bath, if you’d like? It’d help you get clean faster than this, and it’d probably feel better too.”

The demon drew back from her as if she’d just told him she was going to waterboard him. The thought occurred to her that, given what had already happened to him, that wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility for him to believe.

Haven held her hands up, palms out, to reassure him she meant no harm. “Just a bath. Nothing to hurt. No holy water. Just cleaning.”

The demon hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “And you won’t…try to drown me?”

Haven really hated that her suspicions were correct.

“Of course not,” she said, offering him a tight smile.

She held out a hand to him, which he took shakily in his own. Haven wrapped his arm around her shoulders so that he could lean on her and they made their way up the stairs. It was a slow procession due to his broken ribs, and that every time he whimpered, Haven wanted to stop, but knew they had to keep going since it would do neither of them any good being stranded halfway up the stairwell.

Haven pushed open the door to her bedroom and wished she’d had the foresight to pick her things up off the floor beforehand. The demon didn’t seem to mind. His eyes had glazed over, hazy with pain and exhaustion. The night had been tough on him with the journey here. Being thrown from the front door by her protection ward she’d foolishly forgotten about and then being made to sit while Haven fruitlessly tried to scrub the blood off him with damp cloths from the kitchen had likely exhausted him beyond what he could reasonably stand.

“I’m sorry,” Haven found herself saying.

She wished she could convey just how sorry she was in those words, but didn’t know how else to say it. I’m sorry you were tortured. I’m sorry you were hurt so terribly. I’m sorry I didn’t help you when I first saw you, that I doubted you, that I don’t know how to help you, that you’ll have to live with these scars for the rest of your life and all the comfort you have is me when you deserve so much more—

The demon shook his head. “The cell I was held in was far dirtier than this, so pay it no mind.”

Haven found her cheeks reddening. She’d meant to apologize for not letting him rest as she’d wanted to get his wounds cleaned first, but huh. It seemed he had noticed the mess of her room after all.

Turning her gaze away from the wreck of her floor, she lead the demon into her bathroom en-suite. Sat him down on a little round stool she had by the door. Fetched some water for the bath and a few towels. Busied herself with getting everything ready, trying not to think about what she was doing and how she was likely breaking so many rules of what a good witch should not do.

Making a contract with a demon? Check. Letting a demon out of the summoning circle? Check. Bringing said demon not only into her home, but into her bedroom? Double check.

Oh well. She’d never particularly considered herself a stickler for the rules.

A quick spell, and the water was heated, good and steaming. Haven plucked a bottle from the windowsill next to the tub and dripped a bit of floral oil into the water, hoping the scent of lavender would soothe the demon enough that he wouldn’t panic at the thought of being left alone for however long it took for him to wash.

Haven looked back at him and saw his head lolled to the side, resting on the wall next to where he sat. His shoulders had lost their tension and his hands no longer fidgeted restlessly. No more tremors wracked his body, fraught with pain and terror. Haven stood motionless, not wanting to disturb him when he was clearly so exhausted, but it was as if he sensed the lack of energy where there previously had been an abundance of, and his eyes flickered open.

Blearily, his gaze found hers. He lifted his head from the wall and Haven made her way over to him with a towel.

“Here, for when you’re done,” she said, then placed it to the side of the stool he sat on.

The demon looked at it, then to her, then to the bath. Haven moved to help him up, then drew back when she was sure he wouldn’t fall without her support.

“Well, I’ll be waiting outside if you need me.”

Haven made to leave. She’d barely touched the doorknob when she heard the demon voice a single word, small and fearful.

“Stay.”

Haven whirled around. “I’m not going far.”

The demon squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his hands into fists. “Please,” he said, forcing the word from his lips like it pained him to do so. “Please just…” He opened his eyes and fixed them on hers. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He stood there, body rigid, barely holding himself upright without her help. Bruises painted his skin like he were abstract art and the holy water that had been drawn on him trailed lines across his chest and shoulders and even around his neck. Scars—thick bands around both of his wrists—were inflamed and red. Even more Haven couldn’t see lined his back, a permanent reminder.

Haven nodded. she could do at least that much.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

—

(taglist in reblogs)

#whump #whump writing #my writing #willow writes #original work: demon’s haven #oc envy #oc haven #demon whumpee #demon whump #witch caretaker #platonic bathing trope my beloved #that's what's coming up

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whumpwillow · 1 year ago

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Demon's Haven 10

okay woo I've got this and the next three parts after this pretty much all set which is so good of me. how prepared am i ???

anyway here's the penultimate comf chapter before we get into some flashback stuff. platonic bathing trope my beloved <3

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masterlist

warnings: blood, past torture, description of wounds, nonsexual nudity, basically just more comf but they are both sad and awkward about it

—

Oh, what a fool he was.

He’d been doing everything he could not to anger the witch. He didn’t want to draw her ire just as he had with the angel and now he’d gone and ruined it. He must have, surely, for there was no other way he would think she’d respond to this situation. She was going to leave—had even told him as much—and here he was, asking her not to like he had any right to dictate her decisions at all. He had no will. No choice. No freedom here. She was the one in control and he was at her mercy, and he knew that. He knew how easy it would be for her to call the proper authorities and have him disposed of, or for her to simply do it herself. He was in no condition to fight back against anyone or anything, not in his wretched state, and he was wholly dependent on the kindness she continued to show him for some reason that might forever elude him. And now he demanded more of her? What a fool he was to think he still wielded that kind of power.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Her words came hesitant, more than a little unsure, but they broke the demon out of his spiraling thoughts. His head snapped up at the same time a gasp escaped his lips. He watched her, hands fidgeting with the cloth of her shirt. She gave him a smile and a little nod, as if to reassure him of her decision. She didn’t even look angry.

It was enough to know that she would even agree at all. She didn’t have to do what he said, and he knew that he had no power in this situation, yet she agreed all the same. The demon found himself echoing her same smile without meaning to, though his was a crumpled copy of hers, shaky and uneven. It seemed to have an effect on her, for her eyes softened, and she stopped fidgeting.

The demon realized he’d just been standing there silently like an idiot, and snapped himself out of whatever trance he was in. He blamed the blood loss. Or perhaps that dreadful trek through the city that had him stumbling over every cobblestone until he felt as if his bones had been ground into fine powder. That must have been the reason for the clouded, lightheaded feeling he had filling his mind.

He stepped over to the bath and ran his fingers through the water. He breathed out a sigh, his shoulders drooping. The warmth felt good, especially after having his wounds cleaned out with ice cold water. He’d have preferred it warmer, but just as the witch had gotten up to get it, a pang of fear so strong shot through him that it propelled him into the monumentally stupid decision of grabbing her wrist.

The demon had been shocked to find out even that wasn’t enough to test the witch’s patience and have him sent back to his former torment, or to an even greater one. He’d grabbed her without warning, and she’d clearly been frightened by the encounter. He could see it in her eyes.

And yet.

She didn’t hurt him. She stayed by his side.

The demon looked over his shoulder. The witch sat on the chair by the door, hands folded nicely in her lap. She bit the inside of her cheek and looked around the room like she had the intention of counting every tile and board that had been used to build it.

He didn’t know what had caused him to grab her like that back then. Or, why now, he had a fear so strong of her leaving that it overpowered his logical reasoning. He shouldn’t be asking for more from her on top of what she was already giving him.

He just…didn’t want to be alone.

Which was ridiculous. He’d been left alone in his cell whenever the angel had left. He’d been alone when trapped in the summoning circle after the witch had gone home for the day.

“Do you…need me to turn around, or…?” the witch asked, her words hesitant.

The demon tilted his head to the side. “Huh?”

The witch’s cheeks flushed and she looked to the side, biting her lip. She gestured loosely at him and the bath.

The demon realized at once what she meant. He’d nearly forgotten since it had been so long since he’d had a proper bath, once that wasn’t filled with holy water and meant to make him scream and thrash.

“Um, yeah, uh. Yes, please. If you will,” he stammered.

He grimaced at the delivery, wondering where all his eloquence had gone and if it had been bled out of him along with everything else. The witch said nothing of it. She merely turned around and the demon slipped out of his threadbare clothes and into the bath.

The water was lovely. The witch had managed to heat it to the perfect temperature for it to relax his tense muscles without aggravating his wounds. Nothing stung. Nothing burned. The demon allowed his eyes to close and sunk deeper, letting the steam envelop him.

He relished the feeling of becoming clean again, ridding himself of the grime of his cell and the dried blood he’d thought he’d never be free of. He inhaled the scent of whatever oils the witch had added to the bath—lavender, most likely—and scrubbed his arms and legs with the soap she had on the windowsill next to the bath. He couldn’t think of words to describe how it was to rid himself of the filth of his cell, of his torment, and to come back to himself and his body. He felt more like himself again with each passing moment.

The problem, because something always invariably went wrong when he was involved, presented itself in the form of his back and hair. He’d no way to wash the bloody scars there, even when he knew that was where the worst of it lie. Gods, he knew. And while he tried slipping down into the water to wet his hair, the movement aggravated his broken ribs and had him wincing and clutching the side of the tub.

He opened his eyes to find the witch at his side.

He jolted, sending water splashing over the edge. The witch backed away, though not before it caught her skirts, dotting them with the filthy water.

The demon ducked his head in what he hoped passed for bowing in his current position. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I—I didn’t—I—” he stumbled over his words.

Stupid.

He’d gotten carried away. He’d allowed himself to think he was anything other than a disgrace, a toy, a sinner. Too caught up in the luxury of warm water to clean his skin, he’d forgotten himself and dirtied the very same person who’d showed him nothing but compassion.

The witch held her hands out, palms facing him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

She put her fingertips to his shoulder, the slightest touch, as if he were something fragile and precious and he didn’t understand—

His breath caught in his chest. Hitched. He looked up at her, kneeling beside him.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, and the demon couldn’t see it as anything other than a lie.

Of course he had to apologize. He had so many things to apologize for—for being evil, for hurting people, for his past, for his actions, for being what he was, for being a sinner.

“I’m sorry I startled you,” the witch continued. “You just looked like you were in pain.”

The demon swallowed. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

A soft kind of sadness overtook the witch’s expression then, one he had seen many times in the short time they’d known each other. The demon had no idea he could cause that kind of tenderness to appear on anyone, or that they’d ever waste it on the likes of him.

“I can help you, if you like,” the witch said. She paused, bit her lip again. “Or would that be weird?”

“Please.”

The witch nodded and repositioned herself at his back. She took his filthy, disgusting hair in her hands like it didn’t matter at all to her that it was matted with blood and grime. She set one hand on his cheek and told him to tilt his head back if he could and to close his eyes. He obeyed, leaning into her palm. It was like that of the angel’s—causing him pain with just a touch. It didn’t burn his skin though, not like what he’d experienced over and over again, but elicited a deep ache inside him from some unknown place that filled him to the brim with longing. He wanted at once to avoid it and to experience it forever so that this ache would never leave him, no matter how much it hurt.

He felt the witch pour water over his hair once, twice, and again. She didn’t yank on it or use her hold over him to drag him from the bath and across the floor, like he knew the angel would have done. Had done.

She just rinsed his matted locks, taking care to shield his eyes from the warm water by placing her free hand at the peak of his forehead. He even shut his eyes, allowing them to drift closed without as much fear as he thought he would have in the situation. She had complete control over him—but then again, when hadn’t she? And yet the witch had not once intended to use to hurt him.

The protection ward on the door he could understand. He was a sinner—in his past, he—

The demon shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. Yet that was how the witch must have taken it. She leaned over to his side, her face appearing in his field of view from a slant. She once again asked him if it was too cold and if he was comfortable. The demon could only nod, then correct himself when he realized she wouldn’t know which answer he was nodding in response to. He hadn’t been this comfortable in ages. Warm water that wasn’t blessed, didn’t burn. He wasn’t hurting. He was clean.

The witch returned to her work, gently threading her fingers through his hair to try and remove the knots. She could have pulled on them or cut them—a thought that caused the demon to grimace. It seemed he still had the last vestiges of his former vanity clinging to him like wet cloth on skin.

But she didn’t. She worked with more care than the demon knew he warranted and he couldn’t help but sigh. He tilted his head back into her waiting hands, eyes closed, on the verge of drifting off to sleep from the exhaustion that plagued him and the effects of being immersed in warm water.

“Hey, we’re almost done,” the witch told him.

A hand came to his shoulder and gently shook him awake. The demon opened his eyes and looked up at her from where he lay. She peered down at him, her auburn hair falling around her face. The demon held his breath for a reason he could not name.

In the end, the witch never left him. She sat in the chair she had by the door, which was really more a stool and too small for anyone to comfortably sit on for any long stretch of time, her back turned away from the demon as he emerged from the tub. The water sloshed to the floor, pink and grotesque, and the demon scowled at it. He quickly dried himself, which meant scraping fabric over his open wounds way more haphazardly than he would have liked. As soon as the towel touch the raw lashes on his back, he gasped, a sound as quiet as any but not nearly enough. The witch picked up on it, was about to turn, then stopped herself.

“You alright?” she asked.

The demon nodded, stupidly. She couldn’t even see him.

“Quite,” he replied.

In truth, it stung to try and slide the fabric over his body, but he wanted to move quickly so he could dry the water from the floor before the witch turned around. She’d already done so much for him. She’d stayed in the room even when he could see she’d have preferred to be elsewhere, but it was him and his stupid fear of not wanting to be left alone that had him aching for her to remain in his sight so she could remind him that he was out. He wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t trapped in a cell or heading inevitably toward an eternity trapped in a burning lake where the others disposed of their trash. He was here.

Free.

Sort of.

He remembered the soul bond the two of them shared, and figured he’d deal with the consequences of it later.

—

(taglist in reblogs)

#whump #whump writing #my writing #willow writes #demon whump #demon whumpee #witch caretaker #oc envy #oc haven #original work: demon’s haven #platonic bathing #platonic bathing trope my beloved

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whumpwillow · 3 years ago

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Not a prompt, but I had a dream last night about a Villain whumpee being really badly injured, and then getting man-handled/dragged into a bathtub, and pinned down while it started to fill with water. His blood was staining it red and he was begging and it was so whumpy...

yo this is awesome i might have to use this in a writing at some point...mmmmm

#platonic bathing trope my beloved #i want to write some platonic bathing tbh #whump #whump prompt #willow answers #answered asks #whump tropes #whump prompts #villain whump #villain whumpee

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wolfeyedwitch · 1 year ago

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AAAAHHHHHHHH