#right as i layed down i felt another gurgling a cramp in my guts

[begaydodrughailsatan]

I have been spraying straight liquid out of my ass for almost half an hour now someone PLEASE kill me

[angstyaches]

If you're still taking prompts- Felix and Elliott haven't seen each other all day, and Elliott's been gassy all day, so when he finally gets to talk to Felix that night, Felix is really angry for some reason but E hasn't been feeling good so Felix takes care of him cause he feels bad and Elliott is just in so much pain 💔 Sorry English isn't my first language -🍫

Thank you for this request, it’s just lovely, and I’ve been so excited to get it finished for you! I couldn’t think of anything that would result in Felix being just the right amount of angry for this scenario, so he’s more annoyed than angry.

Also, we’re just going to ignore the fact that having someone heavier than you lie on your chest restricts your breathing, because Elliott deserves this, damn it.

CW: burping, stomach and chest pains, stomach noises, mention of vampire drinking (animal) blood, slight over-indulgence, slight mention of coming out a prolonged bout of nausea and lack of appetite.

___

“So,” Felix said, stretching his legs out across the bed and then crossing them at the knees. He was gradually working away on one of his blood lollipops, every so often sticking it in his mouth and having to speak around it. “Ugh, I was driving home, doing the speed limit, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Elliott agreed, resisting a sarcastic grin. Felix was the only driver he knew who didn’t violate speed limits every so often, not even by a couple of kilometres-per-hour.

“I suppose it was peak commuting time,” Felix went on. “Which was my own fault for leaving late. I was basically asking for trouble.”

As he listened, Elliott crossed the room to pick up the hairbrush from his bedside locker. He only had to bend a couple of degrees to reach it, but something about the shift in his posture made something shift inside him, too. He squeezed his lips together as he straightened, swallowing a clump of pressure that tried to escape up his throat. There was a distressed growl deep in his stomach as a result, which he managed to cover up by clearing his throat.

“Coming through town the usual way, past the supermarket and over the bridge,” Felix continued, unaware that any of this was happening.

“Mmhmm.” Elliott nodded in encouragement, going back into the ensuite bathroom and standing in front of the sink. His partner was still visible in the mirror, the door wide open so they could still hear each other.

Elliott pressed a fist to his mouth, releasing a short, grumbling belch.

“And then some idiot with a – I don’t know, a Chrysler or something? I mean, who needs a car that big, anyway? Anyway, they pulled out of the petrol station right in front of me, and I had to slam on the brakes!” Felix sighed deeply, letting his hands fall onto his chest. “I mean, I wasn’t going fast, but what if I had been? What if I'd had a cake on the front seat? It would've gone flying and been destroyed! Gosh, I thought I was going to have a heart attack, I was so mad.”

Elliott inhaled softly through his lips, looking into the mirror as he started tugging the brush through his hair. It was almost down to his elbows these days, and he couldn’t decide it he liked it, or if he wanted to cut it back to shoulder-length again.

He braced himself against a hiccup, realising he hadn’t responded to Felix in a while. He swallowed thickly, trying to recall the last thing he’d heard his partner say. “Did – did you honk the horn at them..?”

“I – well, no, I didn’t,” Felix said, sitting up on his elbows to glare at Elliott in the mirror. “I was mad, but come on, Elli. It was a built-up area, and it was after seven. What if there’d been a baby sleeping somewhere nearby?”

“Right…” Elliott murmured, as if he’d never, ever blown the horn of a car in a built-up area before.

“Anyway,” Felix grunted, flopping back down.

There was a distinct, bubbling sound coming from the upper part of Elliott’s abdomen now. He tried pushing his fingers gently into his stomach, just below his ribs, but he immediately hated the sensation and planted his hands next to the sink. That wasn’t going to work, but the discomfort was becoming so bad that he could feel it draining his energy and – more notably – his patience.

And the last thing he wanted, after a long day without seeing one another, was to snap at Felix over something as silly as a stomach ache.

“I’m just, you know… What the hell’s wrong with people?” Felix continued from the bed. “If they just opened their eyes for a moment, they might actually see something…”

He was still muttering – mostly to himself, at this point – about irresponsible drivers when Elliott closed the bathroom door and walked across the room. He approached the bed from the wrong side, which snagged Felix’s attention. The mint-haired boy looked up at Elliott, as though waiting for him to ask for something. His hands were folded neatly across his middle, his head on the pillow, his legs outstretched and uncrossed.

A pang of pure, untainted affection fluttered in Elliott's chest; as least, he was almost sure it was affection and not just a swell of pressure from his stomach. He half-smiled, watching Felix's expression soften.

“Are – are you alright, darling?”

Without a word in response, Elliott knelt at the end of the bed near Felix’s feet. He spread his hands and placed them either side of Felix’s waist, pressing into the blanket and the mattress.

“Oh,” Felix laughed, a slight blush instantly rushing into his cheeks. “Are we…? Oh, okay.” With a confused look on his face, he lifted his hands from his chest, making space for Elliott to lay down on him, head pressed between Felix’s neck and shoulder.

Felix dragged his fingers gently over the back of Elliott’s neck, pulling heavy locks of his hair together and scooping them to one side. “Darling, what’s brought this on?”

Elliott shrugged lightly. He didn’t really know himself, but the simplest answer seemed to be a fitting one. “You looked comfortable.”

“I see…. Well, you can rest your full weight on me,” Felix offered, his voice a little shaky. “I’m small, but I can take it.”

The tension gradually seeped out of Elliott’s muscles as he sank a little harder into Felix. He felt another shift in his stomach contents, which made a light sheen of sweat break out on the back of his neck. He swallowed, counter-productively, before dragging a heavy fist to his mouth.

The rumbling pressure got caught in the back of his throat, circling nauseatingly for a moment before slipping backwards. A tightness in his chest made him frown. His stomach rumbled so hard that it reverberated through his ribcage and gurgled in the back of his throat.

“Oh, gosh, I felt that,” Felix said, sliding on hand from Elliott’s neck towards his upper back. “Is everything okay in there?”

With his fist still waiting by his mouth, Elliott gave a quick nod. “My stomach’s slightly upset, but it’s nothing to worry about. Are you sure I’m not hurting you?”

“Yes, I’m sure! What’s wrong with your stomach?”

“Nothing…” Elliott winced as another bubble moved through his belly, catching in his oesophagus. “Well, I may have over-indulged slightly today, for the first time since my symptoms cleared up.”

“Ah, okay.” Felix’s tone was a little lighter now, as his hand smoothed over the plane of flesh between Elliott’s shoulder blades. “Obviously, I’m not relieved that you’re in pain, but it is comforting to know you’re getting back to your old self.”

“A bloodthirsty bastard?”

Felix stifled a laugh, And Elliott half-smiled to himself before a cramp rolled through his gut, once again coming to a sharp head just beneath his sternum. He parted his lips, hoping to coax some of the air up, but it gurgled all the way back down to his stomach, making the unhappy organ churn and roll.

A sigh of frustration left his mouth instead. Felix gave his back a slightly more urgent pat, hoping to move things along.

“Ugh,” Elliott groaned, resting his hand on Felix’s shoulder as he waited. “You can keep talking, boo. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“No, no,” Felix half-laughed, gently scratching his fingernails against the back of Elliott’s neck again. “That was just ranting. Taking care of you is so much more important.”

Elliott pressed his lips together. The pressure in his chest was beginning to build up again. The rumbling seemed to start behind his belly button and creep its way up behind his sternum.

Felix spread his hand over Elliott’s back again, no doubt feeling every vibration going through his organs and ribs.

Only when the pressure reached his throat, did it move with any kind of urgency. Elliott barely had time to form a fist again, pressing it to his mouth and releasing the burp as steadily as he could. It went on for about five seconds, making much less noise than it had when it had been rumbling around in his chest. Elliott frowned, knowing that there was no way that was the end of it.

“Sorry,” Elliott mumbled, turning his neck to burrow into Felix’s neck. He knew he was acting much shier than he usually would, but he’d already been feeling a bit embarrassed about climbing on top of Felix in the first place.

“Nothing to apologise for.” Felix tilted his head and rubbed his cheek against the top of Elliott’s head.

Elliott nuzzled even further into Felix’s neck as another belch bubbled up, determined not to direct it into his partner’s face. A low groan followed it, a sound that pleading for an end to this ordeal; although, if he was being honest, the pains twisting his stomach and tightening his chest were already fading. Felix’s hand continued to smooth over his back, fingertips occasionally tracing the shape of his spine and shoulder blades, and Elliott wasn’t about to ask him to stop anytime soon.

[hungry-tum-stuff]

Lanayru Region - Zora’s Domain

Breath of the Wild Regional Food Series - Part Four

Description: After helping them conquer Vah Ruta, the Zora are more than grateful and decide to throw a feast in Link’s honor. Link over-indulges quite a bit, but Sidon is quite impressed by how much the hero can eat.

Includes: Hunger, Stuffing, Stomach rubbing, Touch-Starved Link, Ambiguously Platonic Link and Sidon interactions

//TW: Descriptions of hunger, descriptions of stuffing-induced stomachaches, Themes of Touch Starvation

Link had conquered Vah Ruta.

It hadn’t been easy, it had taken long enough to disable the beast, and even longer to navigate the inside and slay the Blight Ganon that had taken Mipha’s life. Such an ordeal had left him eager to return to Zora’s Domain, for more than one reason.

The biggest reason currently being food.

Food was practically the only thing he could think about after freeing Mipha’s spirit. With the adrenaline and rush of memories of his friend now passed, he quickly became acutely aware of the empty hole in his gut. Spending nearly a day disabling a Divine Beast and fighting a Blight Ganon had left him starving. He wasn’t doing a great job at hiding it, either.

“Link! My dearest friend, you did it! You are truly a hero among Hylians, a true- oh, goodness, you’re not injured, are you? You don’t look well” Sidon fussed, worriedly standing over Link as he got his footing after being teleported to safety by Vah Ruta.

Link just shook his head in reassurance as he took a shaky step towards Sidon. However, he wasn’t as alright as he’d thought, because his knees buckled as soon as he tried to walk. Sidon immediately caught him and stood him upright again, before kneeling down to Link’s level to inspect him.

‘Wounds were healed by Mipha, I’m fine’ He signed slowly, and Sidon looked at him, baffled for a moment.

“My sister healed you? But, how-“ He was cut off by a low growling sound, and as Link clapped two hands on his tummy, Sidon instantly knew what the problem was. His previous confusion was replaced by laughter, and Link’s face turned a bright red. “So that’s why you’re so light on your feet. You must be starving! Not to worry though, I knew you’d be hungry after your victory. So I had the domain prepare something special for you” He insisted, taking Link’s hand gently and leading him into Zora’s Domain. Link followed along, Sidon hadn’t exactly given him a choice, but he found it a little hard to keep up with the prince’s long strides now that his exhaustion was finally catching up to him.

Sidon led Link into the throne room where that ‘something special’ had been set up, and as soon as Link saw what it was he stopped in his tracks, absolutely stunned.

It was a feast. A huge table was laid out before him, covered end-to-end in tons of different fish prepared tons of different ways. Not to mention all the bread, pasta, and rice dishes. Link’s stomach could only groan longingly, aching a bit as he gawked at the feast. He winced and clutched his belly before looking up to Sidon and quickly signing: ‘For me?’

Sidon laughed again. “Of course it’s for you! We very well can’t let our champion leave the domain without a proper reward for his victory. I’d also feel rather awful if I wasn’t able to remedy that empty stomach of yours” Link’s face flushed once again, but he simply kept a hand on his tummy as he was ushered towards a seat. Prince Sidon sat beside him, and King Dorephan regarded them both with a nod.

“Welcome back, champion”

~~~

After King Dorephan gave a rather lengthy speech of thanks to both Link and Sidon, which was almost torture for Link to sit through politely while his stomach was practically begging him to dig into the food right in front of him, the King finally declared that the feast commence.

And Link wasted no time in filling his plate to the brim and scarfing down every last crumb. The other Zora, which Link could only assume was every single Zora in the domain judging by the size of the feast, watched in awe as the Hylian champion chowed down on a hearty bass, and then immediately reached for another helping. In fact, Link was in such a rush to eat that he hadn’t even bothered to use the cutlery laid out for him.

However, Sidon couldn’t help but find Link’s lack of table manners somewhat endearing. Link had been an expectation breaker from the very beginning: Ever since he was a child he’d been told stories of the silent, stoic knight that had fought alongside his sister, but never in a thousand years had he expected that knight to be a Hylian barely taller than most Zora children, or that his silent exterior masked someone incredibly silly and unrefined.

Link wasn’t what Sidon had expected, and that’s what made Sidon endlessly interested in him.

“You ought to slow down, my friend” Sidon interrupted as Link reached to fill his plate with a third heaping serving. But as Link bent over the table, Sidon couldn’t help but notice a new roundness pressing against the stretchy material of Link’s Zora Armor. Link just paused mid-way through filling his plate and looked up confusedly at Sidon, who was still eyeing his companion’s tummy. “Zora portions are traditionally far larger than Hylian portions, and I’d hate for you to give yourself an upset stomach…” He warned.

Link just frowned and continued to pile food onto his plate before setting it down and signing: ‘Still hungry.’

Sidon chuckled and nodded, leaning over to get a second serving of his own. “Very well then, eat to your heart’s content. You’ve certainly earned it”

At that, Link beamed and continued to eat his fill. It wasn’t until he was halfway through his third serving that he began slowing down a bit, and he was clearly struggling through the last couple bites until his plate was clean. As soon as it was, Link could only sit back in his seat with a sigh, one hand slowly creeping up to rest on his overfull tummy. Sidon finished his own meal before stealing a glance at Link and noticing just how distended his belly had become, and he gave a quiet laugh as Link met the prince’s eyes for a moment before looking away abashedly.

“You finished three plates of food? That’s incredible! I don’t even think I would be able to finish three servings of hearty bass without blowing up like a pufferfish” He marveled. Link’s face reddened when the prince pointed out just how much he’d eaten, and when he hiccuped as his stomach settled around the massive amount of food, Sidon just raised an eyebrow. “Although, it seems like you’ve gained a rather, hm, prominent middle after eating so much… Will your stomach be alright?”

Link just nodded and patted his belly assuredly, but as he did, his stomach roiled into a sharp cramp before grumbling unhappily. Link grunted and pressed both hands into his stomach, and Sidon worriedly set a hand on the Hylian’s shoulder.

“I’m not so sure you’re right dear friend, it seems like you’ve overdone it… Is your stomach upset?” He asked. Link tensed up as another gurgle tore through his stomach, and he nodded slowly before holding a finger to his lips and motioning to the other Zora at the table. He’d like to at least try to maintain a positive image with the people of the domain, and eating himself into a stomachache after they had been kind enough to throw him a feast didn’t seem like the best way to uphold his reputation. Sidon, somewhat misunderstanding the message, gave a bright smile and a thumbs-up in reply.

“Excuse us everyone, but our champion is quite exhausted after the events of today. I’ll be taking my leave to see him off to his chambers” Link’s face reddened even more as Sidon’s announcement drew the attention of the entire table, but thankfully nobody dared to comment on his noticeable gut as he stood from the table with Sidon. He was just bombarded with profuse good-byes and thank-you’s as he left with the prince.

‘Not very subtle.’ Link commented on their exit with a huff, and Sidon just tilted his head.

“Well, neither is that belly of yours.” Sidon quipped, causing Link to lay both of his hands back on his tummy, as if he were trying to hide it. “I apologize though, I wasn’t aware you wanted me to be subtle. I however, do want you to get some rest. And hopefully we can find a way to settle your stomach before you turn in for the night” Sidon insisted as he led Link into his bedchamber. Link would have just collapsed onto the bed, if he wasn’t cradling his swollen stomach like a mother would a baby. He opted to climb carefully onto the mattress, and when Sidon didn’t leave but instead sat at the foot of the bed, he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I can leave if you wish, but I believe I can help soothe your stomach a bit. It does sound rather unhappy…” Link flinched and let a small whine slip out as his stomach rumbled and contracted painfully around his huge meal, and he slowly nodded in agreement before removing his hands from his tummy. Sidon nodded back, and soon enough his large, scaled hand had taken the place of Link’s.

“Oh my, everything is really packed in there!” Sidon exclaimed as he began to rub in slow, small circles around Link’s firm belly. Link blushed, looking away before raising his hands up to sign to Sidon.

‘You don’t need to remind me.’

Sidon chuckled and shook his head. “I suppose I don’t. I think it’s a bit amusing though, you just completed a feat that not even I could imagine accomplishing on my own, but the celebratory feast is what has you bedridden”

Link didn’t sign anything in response to that, but he did sigh with relief as Sidon was able to loosen a rather painful knot in his belly, followed by a few busy grumbles. As Sidon continued, Link found himself slowly easing into the touch and the slow, soothing motion of the other’s hand on his belly, and the comfortable silence lulled him into a state of relaxation he hadn’t felt since he woke up in the Shrine of Resurrection.

‘This feels really nice, thank you.’ Link signed before letting his eyes fall shut. Sidon smiled as his hand smoothed over a particularly tight area, releasing a chorus of rumbles. Both of the boys paused upon hearing the sudden noises, but Sidon gave Link’s stomach a gentle, reassuring pat before continuing to rub his overfull belly in slow, soothing circles.

“You don’t need to thank me, my champion”

[cuddlepilefics]

Comfort Item

Fandom: GOT7

Sickie: Yugyeom

Caregivers: GOT6

Prompt: @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

After a long day at the company, GOT7 headed out to have dinner together. None of them were in the mood to cook something right now, so they went to one of their favorite restaurants, deciding to treat themselves. The restaurant was packed but they managed to get a booth in one of the corners where they wouldn’t attract too much attention. However, with the restaurant being busy, it took a while for the food to arrive. When it did, Yugyeom noticed that the meat in his dish seemed a little pink still but it tasted great nonetheless, so he just ignored it and dug in. They had a great time and truly enjoyed their food, yet they didn’t want to hang around for too long as a few people had already recognized them. When all members were done eating, they paid and left. It wasn’t too late yet and as summer was coming to and end, the temperatures outside were comfortable. Deciding they had spent way too much time indoors lately, they agreed to take a longer walk before going back to their dorm to rest. Yugyeom was the only one not really happy about the decision but not wanting to be a party pooper, so he just went along with it, trailing behind the rest. For some reason, his stomach had started to feel a little off and walking around outside just didn’t sound too appealing. He walked behind the others and carefully slipped a hand under his shirt, palming his sore middle.

They had already been walking around for twenty minutes when the uneasy feeling in his gut turned into cramps. Mark had slowed down a bit to walk beside the maknae and took note of the younger’s tense expression. He didn’t bring it up at first, hoping Yugyeom would speak up if something was wrong, but at some point, he knew the dancer wouldn’t. “Hey, you okay? You look a bit uncomfortable”, Mark asked quietly. Looking straight ahead, Yugyeom shrugged: “I think my dinner isn’t fully agreeing with me.” – “Oh well, maybe the fresh air will help some”, the oldest hummed. Biting his lip, Yugyeom avoided eye contact. He knew the air wouldn’t do much, as it had only gotten worse the longer they were out. They continued to walk in silence while some of their members fooled around ahead of them. Mark had brushed the topic off until he heard a loud gurgle, looking over at his dongsaeng to see his face scrunched up in pain. “Did that sound come from your stomach?”, he asked worriedly. The maknae nodded hesitantly, raising his fist to his lips to muffle a queasy belch. When had he gotten so bloated? The waistband of his jeans had started to painfully dig into his tummy and he wished he hadn’t put on something so tightly fit. Giving him a comforting smile, his hyung spoke up: “Guys, Yuggs and me are going to cut it short. We’re tired and will take the shorter route to the dorm.” Yugyeom shot him a grateful look as Jaebeom nodded and told them they wouldn’t be home too much later.

The pair made their way home in silence and the youngest was glad he wouldn’t have to walk around much longer. His stomach was still cramping just as badly and he was starting to feel queasy. Mark unlocked the door and let them both in, kicking off his shoes. Yugyeom struggled a bit after tying his shoes with a double knot. He fumbled with the laces before finally untying them. Straightening up again, he was hit by a bad cramp, which caused him to crouch down with a pained groan. “You okay?”, Mark frowned, helping him back up when the pain eased a bit, “Should I check if we have some medicine or something?” The younger shook his head, muttering: “I think I’ll be fine if I just lay down a while.” Not wanting to push it, Mark watched him walk off to his room. He only followed him to place a bottle of water on his dongsaeng’s nightstand and tell him to feel better. After that, he left the youngest to rest, hoping the pain would pass as soon as his dinner was properly digested. Yugyeom was glad his hyung respected his privacy because he felt embarrassed by the noisy rumbling of his stomach. Laying on his side, he hugged a pillow to his middle and drew his legs closer to his chest. It had been a while since he had last had a stomach ache this bad and thinking about it, it had probably been the meat. He knew it had looked funny. Being hit with another cramp, Yugyeom bit the corner of his pillow to suppress the pained sound trying to escape his lips. This was not how he had expected his evening to go.

Today was their monthly movie night and as of now, Yugyeom didn’t think he’d be able to participate. He was in too much pain to focus on a movie, let alone be around all the snacks his friends had gathered. The dancer was pulled from his thoughts when there was a knock at the door. “Come in”, he forced out, putting on a smile when Jinyoung entered the room. The older gave him a questioning frown: “You don’t look well. What’s going on?” – “I feel sick to my stomach”, Yugyeom admitted through gritted teeth, burying his face in the pillow when another cramp twisted his stomach. “Do you feel like you need to be sick?”, Jinyoung asked worriedly, relaxing when his dongsaeng shook his head, “Want me to make you some tea to help your stomach settle?” – “H-Hyung, I don’t think I want to put anything in there right now”, the maknae groaned, starting to sweat. The older hummed thoughtfully, instructing: “I’ll let you rest, text or yell if you need anything.” – “Thanks”, Yugyeom mumbled, closing his eyes. He tried to go to sleep in hopes of waking up feeling better but the discomfort was too big to let him rest. The door quietly opened again and Yugyeom glanced at his roommate. Bambam shot him a smile before walking to his closet to get changed into some comfortable clothes for their movie night. He had his back turned on the younger but looked over his shoulder when he heard him let out a pained sound. “You okay?”, the rapper asked. Forcing a smile that turned out more like a grimace, Yugyeom muttered: “My stomach is killing me, please put me out of my misery.” – “Sorry, no can do”, Bambam chuckled, quickly getting changed before sitting down next to his dongsaeng, “Anything I can do to make it better?” The younger shook his head and started to relax when the rapper played with his hair.

Bambam kept him company till there was a knock at the door. The rapper quietly answered it, allowing Jackson to join them. Yugyeom watched them as Bambam explained their hyung what was going on. “Aw, I’m sorry to hear that”, Jackson cooed with a sympathetic smile, “Maybe our movie could distract you from the pain. Do you think you can get up?” – “I think technically I can get up, I just really really don’t want to”, the maknae hummed, already having accepted that he’d miss out on this month’s movie night, “I just want to lay in bed until it goes away.” Feeling his heart clench, Bambam announced: “I’ll keep you company if you can’t join the rest of the group. Letting you suffer all by yourself isn’t right.” Jackson nodded. They wouldn’t let their youngest isolate himself when he wasn’t feeling well. Bambam climbed into bed behind his only dongsaeng and asked hesitantly: “Would it help if I rubbed your stomach?” Yugyeom gritted his teeth, having to wait out the cramp before he could reply: “Don’t touch my stomach right now.” – “Alright, do you think you need to be sick?”, the rapper questioned, Jackson already glancing at the trashcan under the table in case the maknae said yes. Squeezing his eyes shut, Yugyeom groaned: “I’m a bit queasy but mainly it just hurts.” Jackson pulled the trashcan next to the bed just to be safe, while Bambam traced the younger’s back comfortingly.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”, Jackson hummed lowly, unable to see the maknae in that much pain any longer. Yugyeom bit his lip. There was something but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. It was kind of embarrassing and he didn’t feel bad enough to forget about his pride. Nudging his shoulder, Bambam leaned closer to his ear and whispered: “The way you’re hesitating, there has to be something, right?” – “I- It’s embarrassing”, the younger mumbled, hiding his flushed face in the pillow. “If it’s going to help you, there’s no need to be embarrassed”, Jackson smiled. Afraid his voice would crack from how shy he felt, Yugyeom whispered barely audible: “I-I have that microwaveable teddy bear.” – “Oh, you mean like a heat pack?”, Bambam hummed in understanding. The younger nodded. “Where is it?”, Jackson asked calmly, knowing his dongsaeng was so insistent on his independence that he barely had any plushies around him. Hiding his face, Yugyeom muttered: “Stuffed it at the back of my closet.” The older instantly walked over to the closet and rummaged through it, searching for the maknae’s comfort item. “Aw, that’s cute”, Jackson smiled when he pulled the bear out from between the piles of clothes, “Want me to heat it up for you?” – “C-Could you?”, Yugyeom pleaded shyly. It had always helped when he had stomach troubles as a child. Nodding reassuringly, Jackson slipped out of the room and made his way to the kitchen.

The other members looked up from where they were setting up the couch for their movie night. “What’s that?”, Jaebeom questioned when he saw the other with a plushie in his hands. Jackson smiled: “Gyeommie’s heat pack.” – “Oh my god, that’s adorable”, Mark gasped, clutching his chest. The others nodded surprised. It was cute, although they never would have expected their maknae to own something like this. “Oh, by the way, he’s not going to join us tonight and neither is Bambam”, Jackson informed, taking the bear out of the microwave and kneading it to make sure the heat was distributed equally. He hurried to get back to his dongsaengs and handed Yugyeom his teddy bear. The maknae instantly abandoned the pillow he had been hugging and curled up around the new source of heat, sighing when the warmth helped his muscles to relax. Giving a grateful smiled, the youngest breathed: “Thank you, hyung.” – “No problem”, Jackson replied, “I told the others that you two wouldn’t join us for the movie, so try to get some rest.” Yugyeom nodded, closing his eyes. Maybe he’d be able to go to sleep now.

Two hours had passed and the movie just ended. Unlike Bambam, who was knocked out behind him, Yugyeom hadn’t been able to fall asleep. His heat pack had cooled but he didn’t find the energy to drag himself out to the kitchen to re-heat it. The pain in his stomach had barely improved at all but at least he didn’t feel as queasy anymore, so he’d probably be fine by tomorrow, when the food had passed through his system. He looked up when he heard the door creak open. Jinyoung looked at him surprised, whispering: “I didn’t think you’d still be awake but wanted to check on you anyway before going to bed. Do you feel any better?” The maknae shook his head, a low rumble from his stomach confirming his statement. Glancing down at the plushie the youngest had cuddled to his middle, Jinyoung offered: “Do you want me to re-heat that for you?” – “Please?”, Yugyeom whispered, not wanting to wake Bambam. The older nodded and took the bear out to the kitchen. He also made a cup of ginger tea while he waited for the microwave to beep, in hopes it would soothe his dongsaeng’s upset stomach. He took both back to Yugyeom’s room and smiled when the maknae instantly hugged the heat pack. “You don’t have to drink the tea”, Jinyoung hummed quietly, “Just know it’s there. Sleep well and don’t hesitate to wake me up if you need something or feel worse, yeah?” – “Thank you. Good night, hyung”, Yugyeom whispered, cuddling back into Bambam’s arms, a small smile playing around his lips despite the pain.

[tummyachesandchocolatecakes]

The nugget stuffing

I wrote this one yesterday and it’s been sitting in my drafts ready to post, hope you like

Eliana couldn’t get the memory of the shop assistant out of her head when she told her that all this food was for her. She was buying food for her latest livestream, and apparently it’s not normal to buy 5 large bags of frozen nuggets just for yourself, who knew!

El began setting up her camera and backdrop for today’s video, chicken nuggets stuffing had been the top request on her latest poll. The nuggets sat in 3 huge see through glass bowls beside her. She adjusted her bra and knickers one last time before loging in. She could see 27 users already in the waiting room for the video. For her that was a lot as she’d only been doing this a short time. The time hit 8:30 and El turned on the camera.

“Well hello there my viewers! How are we all today? Lots of familiar names logged in, I see you! As usual thank you for all the love and support! Now it’s time to get into the nugs!”

El stood up so her full body was in view.

“As you can see, my stomachs pretty flat right now. I mean it’s still pudgy,” she poked her belly and gave it a little wiggle, “ but it’s got plenty of room! So let’s go!”

El pulled the first bowl of nuggets towards her, having a sneaky look at the comments being posted. So far all very impressed, all ready for the show.

Raising the first nugget to her lips she took a bite, licking her lips seductively at the camera.

“Mmmmm these are some good nugs!”

She began eating them whole, putting nugget after nugget into her mouth.

“Oh my god these are good. My big old belly is crying out for more”

She ate more nuggets, getting a third of the way through the first bowl before stopping. She could feel her stomach telling her that actually she was pretty damn full right now. She turned side on to the camera.

“Look at this belly, starting to bloat our already.” She ran her hands over the bulge at the top of her abdomen where her stomach was filled with food. She rubbed it for a few minute, groaning unnecessarily but it pleased her audience.

She picked up the bowl and quickly finished off the rest of them.

“Well that’s one bowl down, two to go!” El smiles cheekily into the camera, again rubbing her belly.

She really was feeling stuffed now, beyond full. Her stomach was beginning to ache.

“Ugh guys, my poor belly isn’t feeling great already! I wish you were here to rub it for me and help me with this challenge!”

As expected this caused an increase in comments users all expressing their wishes to rub her belly for her. She looked at her tummy, it was pretty damn swollen at the top but not much different to normal lower down. If she was going to finish this challenge then she needed the food to move through her a bit. She spent a few more minutes massaging her gorged gut, adding in some belly button play for one of her regulars. It wasn’t her cup of tea but he tipped well so she didn’t mind.

“Here we go” she said after her brief pause. Her belly still felt full and achey but these people were paying to see her stuff herself to the brim and that’s what they’d get.

As El dug into the second bowl her stomach began to stretch out further, desperately trying to accommodate the onslaught of nuggets. She stopped every three or four nuggets to give herself a belly massage as her gut struggled with all the food.

“Guys I am really feeling this today,” El said to the camera, eager for a brief break. Her stomach hurt a lot, it was actually getting a bit hard to breath because her stomach was so jam packed. Looking down at the bowl though, El realised there was only 5 nuggets left.

“Okay my lovely viewers, these 5 as fast as I can, then a break for some much needed tummy TLC”

Grabbing the nuggets she shoved them into her mouth one after another without stopping. When the last one was swallowed she took in a deep breath. Holy shit her belly hurt. Resting her palms over her stomach it was clearly distended and solid as a rock.

“Oh man I do not feel too good.” She ran her hands over and over her tummy, though it wasn’t actually helping at all. “I need to lie down for a bit.”

El placed herself on her strategically placed love seat and lay back, groaning in pain and pleasure at the weight of the food clogging up her stomach.

Groaning and whimpering she lay there, massaging her drum tight tummy.

“I don’t know if I’m going to manage anymore food,” she groaned. As much pain and discomfort as she was in, she knew she’d be eating the third bowl. However it seemed to turn her customers on to encourage to her stuff herself more so she cheekily teased them with “oh but my belly hurts” and “no I couldn’t possibly fit anything else into my tummy it’s so sore and full” before finally going for the third bowl. The fake reluctance had given her stomach enough time to get to work with digesting the food, she could feel it moving through into her intestines. Dragging the bowl towards her she decided to eat the last bowl laying down.

Each nugget got harder to eat. Her stomach had really had enough this time. She was in pain. Actual proper pain. Each swallow was thicker and harder than the one before, and 3/4 of the way into the bowl she knew she had reached her final limit. She swallowed the mouthful of nugget and it went down her throat only to stop in what felt like her chest. The nuggets were piled almost out of her stomach into her oesophagus, sitting as solid and unmoving as rocks.

“Guys” she hiccuped, causing a gag and nugget to reappear into her mouth. She swallowed it down with a grimace, “ I’m done. I cannot...” BURP “possibly eat anymore” ... BURPPP.

She rubbed her tummy gently, but even that movement caused her to feel like puking, so she decided to massage her intestinal area instead to keep things moving. Laying on the sofe she continued to film herself for a while, some of her viewers were only here for the aftermath.

“Oh my belly...it hurts so bad...*gag* oh god I’m gonna puke...ugh my poor tummy.... please I need someone to help me rub it better...oh my god it’s hurting.... I don’t feel good”

She went on like this for a while, giving her viewers time to finish themselves off, before giving her usual closing line.

“I’ve got to go, I need to puke or shit or just be in agony. See you guy’s same time next week.” And with that she ended the live stream.

Collapsing back into her chair El wrapped her arms around her huge gut, rocking back and forth with the pain and cramps. But through all the pain she could feel her vagina tingling excitedly at how full she was. She rubbed her upset belly aggressively, making it churn and gurgle sickly, in turn increasing her arousal. Her viewers had had their fun enjoying her bad belly ache, now it was hers.

[chaotic-mom-friend]

Stardew Fic for Shane (aka babey). Hope y'all enjoy.

You've been living here in Pelican Town for roughly a year now. Long enough for people to know you're just a little bit strange, yet endearingly so. You're the first to get to the bottom of the mines, talk with the mysterious beings of the town, and even rebuilt the community center. With the help of the Jumino spirits, of course.

But by far, the strangest choice you've made was falling for the grumpy, moody drunk who first showed his affections for you by cramming a whole-ass pizza into your mailbox. All the same, you saw something in him. You saw the hurting inner child who just needed to know he didn't need to be ashamed, that there were people who loved and supported him. He still had some trouble opening up, but slowly, you were helping him learn to feel safe. True, the other residents could never understand your ultimate choice, but they could appreciate it. After all, Shane did seem much happier with you. He even quit drinking, and every other week went into the city to talk to a therapist. Things were going well...

But the day you find him asleep on the bathroom floor, the thick stench of vomit hanging in the air, a familiar fear creeps into your stomach... Your mind flashes back to finding him on a cliff, drinking away his inhibitions, trying to work up the nerve to jump. Had he fallen off the wagon? He was doing so well... You start practicing in your head what to say to him. Relay that you aren't angry, that you still love him. That you're just disappointed, because you know he can do better.

However, you're both relieved and confused when you come closer, and the smell of alcohol doesn't seem to be anywhere on him. Okay, so he's not drunk... You reach up and feel his cheek with the back of your hand. Oh... Now it makes sense. His skin is clammy and sweaty. You can hear his teeth chatter as his stomach squelches and roils. Shane was doing better (quitting that awful job at Joja and coming to live with you helped), but he was still learning how to take care of himself. You didn't put it past him to eat something bad and give himself a case of terrible indigestion in the process. 

Your warm touch brings him around. He opens his bleary eyes with a moan, a few lingering tears sliding off of his cheek. "Unngh... Babe?" 

A sigh of relief escapes you. At least he's somewhat aware. "I'm here, Shane..." Your hand moves from his forehead to cup his stubbled cheek. "How long have you been here?"

"Don't know," he admits, shuddering as another noisy gas bubble churns its way through his system when you help him sit up. "Just woke up, maybe an hour ago? Came in here, and I-" He was cut off by a small, strained burp, covering his mouth with a fist. You brace yourself for action, but thankfully, it seems to be just a burp. "Ahhh... Sorry." He blushed. "M-my belly's not really happy with me right now..." 

"Let's get you into bed, ok?" You figure he'll be more comfortable there. Pulling his arm over your shoulder, you make sure to move slowly as you stand him up. 

As you make it from the bathroom, his hand comes up to absently rub his bloated tummy to try and ease whatever's going on in there. His brow pinched as another squealing gurgle pushed his intestines around. "O-oh, Yoba..." 

"I know, babe. I know it hurts..." You pause a moment, letting him regain his composure. When he nods, you take baby steps with him down the hall. Making it to the bedroom without incident, you help him stagger to the bed. It breaks your heart the way he curls up on his side, arms around his noisy gut. His shirt is tight around his bloated middle, still churning with whatever wants out. "I'll be back, okay? I'm just gonna grab a few things."

He nodded, though you're not sure if he really heard you. Not that you could be upset with him for it; he was probably focused more on the immense pain in his belly. 

You come back up with a bucket, along with a clean rag, a few bottles of water, and some mint candies. You remember Carol telling you that mint helps a bad tummy. Tentatively, you sit beside him and rub your knuckles against his scratchy cheek again. "You awake?"

"Can't sleep with a demon inside me," he half-jokes.

"Aww, sweet potato... Can I help?"

At your question, he blushes a little. His voice is barely above a mumble. "C-could you... Maybe you could just rub my belly...?" He avoids your line of sight for it.

You smile sympathetically. "Of course. C'mere." Positioning yourself against the headboard, you encourage him to sit up and lay against your shoulder. Rubbing your hands together to warm them up, you lift his shirt a bit and tenderly press your fingertips into his angry tummy. He closes his eyes with a contented sigh, letting his head fall back. One hand works the front of his achy belly, while the other rubs the side in up and down motions. Another gurgle stirs around in his digestive system, telling you that something is moving. Another burp escapes him before he can stifle it, though he at least manages to turn away from you. "S'cuse me," he mutters, still embarrassed, but looking a little more relieved at the room it made for his stomach.

You can still feel his intestines shifting around, quite noisy as they did. "Can you remember what you ate?"

"Urm..." He turns away again and burps into his fist. "Oysters. They... They tasted a little off, I think. But I was so hungry..." 

Food poisoning. Somehow, you're not surprised... But if it gets worse, you resolve to take him to Harvey.

He lets out another little belch, this one airy and choked off. 

"Shane?" You pause your ministrations, watching the color drain from his face.

"I d-don't feel so good," he stammered out, voice thick with nausea. 

You act fast, swiping up the bucket from the side of the bed. Switching your positions, you bring him to his knees and help him lean over the plastic container. You're long since used to this from his mornings of hangovers in the past. You just hope it doesn't hurt him as badly.

He keeps a white-knuckle grip on the sides of the basin, his stomach cramping and gurgling. "Ohhhh..."

"I know, cupcake," you soothe, bracing his forehead to help him stay steady. When he takes in a shaky breath, you know it's coming. His breath hitches at the end and he gags hard, belching up a torrent of sick. Violent splashes hit the bottom of the bucket as his stomach puts in overtime to get it out. This is much worse than when he'd get sick from drinking. At least then, he'd just puke and get it over with, likely feel better after. Here, you could already see him gearing up for round two, shaking and sweating all over. 

"It hurts...!"

"I know it does, baby, I know..." You keep his bangs out of the splash zone as another wave of bile joins the rest of the mess in the bucket, your free hand steadying the container. "Oh honey, I know that's gotta hurt... Just get that nastiness out." The third heave isn't as hard, but maybe it's because he's getting tired. You feel an ache in your chest as he's only able to let out a pitiful whine, before getting sick a fourth and fifth time. "I know, pumpkin. I know... Just get it up. That's it, good job... Good job."

"Guh..." He finally gets a moment to breathe, keeping his eyes shut so he doesn't have to see the mess. His tongue felt like it was coated in fuzz. "I think... I think I'm finished." He spit into the bucket one final time.

You set it aside for now, taking one of the bottles of water to give him a few sips. "Slowly. Just to get the taste out." 

He nodded, doing as instructed. He didn't feel so confident about putting anything in his system just yet, but he wanted that acrid sensation off of his tongue... 

With that out of the way, you work on cleaning his face off. With the same water bottle, you dampen the clean rag and gently wipe it over his face. You wince as you realize that somehow, he'd managed to get it in his eyebrows. Once he was cleaned up, you reward him with a kiss to the cheek. "My poor baby..."

He leaned into you, taking slow, deep breaths. He looks ready to fall asleep. Or pass out. Whichever one brings him some kind of comfort...

Once you're sure his stomach has settled for now, you stand up and take the sick bucket. "Ok. I'm gonna rinse this out. I'll be right back."

He nods absently, indicating that he at least got the gist of what you were telling him. You head back down the hall, dumping out and flushing the mess in the toilet, then rinsing the residue out in the tub.

Unfortunately, Shane's stomach can't keep it in for long. You're in the middle of disinfecting the bucket, when he staggers in, sweat pouring down his face. You look back, alarmed at the sight. One hand grips the sink, the other arm around his gurgling, cramping belly. "Shane?"

"Babe, you gotta move." His voice is strained as another cramp rips through. His knees buckle. 

"Shane, what's wrong?"

"I don't-" his knees buckle together, both arms wrapped around his tummy. "I really can't hold it...! Please, I don't want you to see this!" His voice is filled with panic, and he goes absolutely stiff.

You get the message. You manage to slip past him, letting him quickly shuffle to the toilet as you close the door behind him, just as he's able to pull his pants off. At least one less thing for him to worry about... You wait outside to make sure he doesn't pass out on the toilet. A few seconds pass before you hear him groan in pain, just as what sounds like a bucket of water dumped into the toilet. Worried, you knock. "Shane? You okay in there?"

Another bout of diarrhea violently exits his rear. You can tell he's crying by how he sounds when he speaks. "It feels like my insides are falling out of me..."

"I know, baby... Do you want me to co-"

"No, please don't..." Another choked sob leaves him. "I'm sorry, I... I don't want you to have to see me this way..."

"I don't care about that! I just want to help you feel better. I don't want you to hurt anymore..."

Silence met you from the other side, causing your chest to seize with fear. 

"Shane?"

A few more seconds pass, before you hear the toilet flush. The water in the sink runs for a moment for him to wash his hands, before the door knob turns. He's an absolute wreck when you see him. He's pale as a baby sheep, drenched in sweat, deep violet bangs clinging wetly to his forehead.

"Oh, Shane..." You open your arms to hold him, letting him tumble into your arms. He sniffles, frustrated and exhausted as you stroke his sweaty hair. 

"It hurts so bad," he whispers hoarsley into your shoulder.

This was the first time you'd ever seen him so vulnerable. Honestly, it scares you just a little. "I know it does..." You gently guide him back to bed, bringing him to lay on his side. It's easier for his achy belly and his sore backside in this position. You lay down behind him, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. "I'm gonna be right here with you, okay?"

He nodded, too exhausted to be embarrassed anymore. He's glad to have you here. Just the thought of being sick and alone like this scares him. He hoped you knew that without telling you. He could barely form a sentence for the moment. He can barely keep his eyes open.

Seeing this, you drag the blanket over him and up to his shoulders, kissing him again on the back of his head. "I'll be right here, muffin... Just get some sleep."

He nodded again, wincing at the residual cramps that still bubbled up from time to time. Taking your hand, he brought it back to his belly. "Please rub," he croaked. You gladly oblige, tenderly pressing your fingertips into his abused intestines. You're sure to be gentle, trying to help him fall asleep. Now and again, his breath hitches as another cramp hits. Thankfully, you feel his breath even out instead of reaching for the bucket. 

But when he wakes up an hour later, you find yourself helping him back to the toilet. It's going to be a long night...

[secret-vore-lair]

Why don’t you stay awhile?

A continuation of this story. Aspen gets her wish, and Mally gets a satisfying meal. Contains digestion of willing prey and weight gain. Or, well, descriptions of future weight gain. Still, I go into more detail about it than I have before in one of these stories. This one’s a bit more suggestive than usual, too.

***********************************************

Aspen gasped as she found herself bunched up within the faintly glowing belly of her host tonight. The goat had just given Mally, the dragon who lived in the woods near her home, permission to devour her completely, and now, what felt like seconds later, she was crowded into the elastic, fluid-filled chamber that would soon get to work churning her into so much sludge. In reality, it had taken Mally quite a  bit longer to get her down, in part because she was taking care not to startle the skittish creature, and in part because she found Aspen to be absolutely delectable and absolutely worth savoring. But it hardly mattered. Aspen’s perception of time had stopped functioning properly the moment Mally’s jaws had cut her senses off from the wider world, enveloping her in a place that was all slick surfaces, rolling waves of muscle, and dim orange light.

Now, as Aspen caught her breath, taking the thick, heavy fumes of Mally’s internal atmosphere into her lungs, the experience of being swallowed caught up to her all at once. It had been an intense full-body massage. Despite Mally’s decreased stature, the muscles in her gullet had been stronger than any Aspen had experienced before. The goat felt so relaxed already. All the tension she had been feeling was gone now, and thank goodness for it, too. There wasn’t much elbow room in here, and getting a cramp right now would have been miserable. There was a lot of evidence to suggest that a dragon’s belly should be a miserable place anyway, but in reality it was quite the contrary. Blushing bright pink, Aspen unfolded one arm nervously from her chest, then reached out, hesitated, and stroked the wall of firm flesh that contained her.

“Nice and cozy in there, dear?” Mally purred. Aspen drew a sharp breath, eyes wide. That was the first thing Mally had said since swallowing her. The dragon’s voice in here was . . . powerful. Not just louder, it resonated through every soft surface and carried even into Aspen’s own body. The walls shaped around her curled-up form and sent those waves of warm sound shuddering through her like she was only a conduit for the words. It was awe-inspiring. She felt like she was a part of things in here already. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what the actual melting would be like. Or the integration into Mally’s gorgeous physique. . .

“Y-Yes, ma’am,” Aspen said so softly Mally could barely make it out over the cute little glurgles the goat induced in her awakening belly. The dragon giggled and allowed one of her claws to roam over the uneven bulge Aspen made. She gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“Good, good. I may drift off before I’m finished. Or, ah, before you’re finished. Will that be okay? I’m feeling drowsy after such a satisfying meal.” She fell back and kicked her feet up, pulling her covers up over her legs with her tail. She fished for one of the books on the floor nearby and propped up the one she found against the top of her belly, which rose high enough to stand it up at the perfect angle.

Aspen shivered again. This was really happening! And Mally had called her satisfying! She could feel the pressure from outside, the fluid lapping at her fur, the gentle groans and rolling, bassy noises from dragon’s digestive tract as it contemplated the best way to break down the boundaries between predator and prey. She realized with a start that several seconds had gone by since Mally’s question, and she still hadn’t answered. “Y-Yes, that would be alright! This is so much to take in, sorry! It’s really sinking in that I’m going to be . . . part of you.”

“A very soft part of me,” Mally crooned, licking a finger and turning the opening pages of her novel as her eyes picked up every subtle shift and movement of her deliciously strained midsection. “Yes, concerning my waistline, you’re definitely going to have a . . . lasting impact.” She accentuated that last word with a smack of her chops, and her belly sounded off in eager agreement. The dragon purred as she felt Aspen squirm involuntarily. Seemed she knew exactly which buttons to press to fluster her meal. And the way that meal moved within her was utter bliss. “We’ve got a long date with the mirror tomorrow, Aspen. Once I manage to drag my heavy, heavy body out of bed. . .”

“Eek!” Aspen said, ears folding against the sides of her head as she covered her mouth and blushed even more intensely. She sank against the wall as if trying to hide, shifting so the pooling fluid uncovered her knees but now concealed her up to her chin. “I-I’m not going to fill you out that much, am I?” The idea of being part of something bigger, losing herself for a while and existing just to complement the figure of someone so confident was incredibly tantalizing, but she had a hard time imagining her own mass having any significant effect on Mally’s absolute . . . radiance.

“My dear, you underestimate yourself. That little body of yours contains a surprising number of calories. Besides. . . Oh, hold on.” Mally tilted her head back and released a proud, lengthy belch. “Ah. Much better!” More squirming. Perfect. “As I was saying, sugary-sweet morsels like you have a tendency to go straight to my thighs.”

“Anything you put on your thighs would look more amazing, just by association,” Aspen said with a delighted shiver, but her movements were slowing. She was rapidly losing the energy she required to maintain her previous levels of fluster, now that her body was starting to blur and waver at its edges. Mally’s enzymes were doing their job faster and faster. . . Soon she’d have absolutely no choice but to relax and give in. They both knew that moment was coming soon. Aspen knew because she could feel it intuitively, and her heart raced with excitement even as her body weakened. Mally of course knew because of her years and years of experience, though her anticipation was not dulled at all by repetition.

“Glad you follow my logic, dear. I can’t think of a better place to show off someone as lovely as you. You’re enough for me. Feel free to fatten yourself up for me between now and next time, though.” She hummed and pressed both claws down into the softening outline of her dinner, sending pleasurable, electric sensations coursing through her less and less resistant body. Each squeeze was met with increasing give, Aspen’s shape more easily compressing the more pressure Mally applied. Soon she would cease to have distinguishable features. The dragon’s gurgling belly would round out, and the goat would spend an hour or two as a thick slurry before Mally’s body began to soak her up and apply her in thick, squishable layers between muscle and scales. Mally’s book still rested against her gut unread, but that was alright. No harm in putting it off another day. For now, she yawned and lay back, shutting her eyes. “I really must say goodnight now, my dear. Tonight’s activities have really taken a lot out of me. I suppose once I let my stomach take a lot out of you, that will balance things out nicely, hmm?”

Hearing a weakly spoken affirmative from her succumbing prey, Mally allowed herself to drift off with a smile, stomach still churning away, eroding her dinner guest slowly. She felt with increasing certainty that between what had already transpired and the affection Mally would shower her with tomorrow, Aspen would be coming back for more. Certainly something to look forward to. For a dragon with Mally’s talents, every snack had the potential to become a gift that kept on giving.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

if not by blood, then siblings by bloodshed (part three)

pour one out for all the German Shepherd lovers

TW: Blood and gore, violence, animal violence, animal death, death, mentions of past abuse, vomiting

——————

Run For Your Life

“Joey, I’m tired....”

It’s been a day since the experience in the town- a day worth of no rest and even more walking, not even stopping to sleep at night, and only then was Joan realizing how unwell her young companion looked.

Kitty’s face was ashen and her dull eyes were half-lidded. Exhaustion is etched all over her expression. She clung tightly to Joan’s hand as they walked. Who knows how much longer she would be able to go on before she keels over.

“I don’t know how much farther we have...” Joan said, “Would you like it if I carried you? Maybe that would help?”

Kitty nodded and Joan carefully picked her up. Her knees wobbled when she stood back up; it’s not that Kitty was heavy, quite the opposite, actually, but her legs were so sore that the extra weight put even more of a strain on her, weakening them. Still, she pushed forward, not letting her own fatigue overcome her.

When buildings finally came into view around the bend, it was a huge relief. The sky had been growing darker and the only thing that could make the growing uneasy even worse was if they had ominous shadows cast over their faces.

A ruined village stands before them. Half-crumpled buildings stood around in disarray, long destroyed by wind and rain and other weather effects. A few were still intact, like the one Joan chose to take refuge in. The bed inside was dusty, but held strong, so Joan gently sets Kitty down.

“Mmmmm...” The little girl moaned softly. Joan gently strokes back her sweaty bangs.

“Shh,” She murmured, “You’re in a bed, Kit. Try to sleep, okay? I’m going to go find some food and water.”

Kitty nodded and shut her eyes again. Mercy hops down from Joan’s head to watch over her as Joan went back outside.

As much as she didn’t want to, Joan knew she would have to hunt again. Kitty must have been dehydrated and hungry- the best thing for her right now was food and water, and Joan had to get that for her.

However, her task was cut off by a horrible, guttural noise from nearby.

Joan new exactly what it was.

There wasn't a human being alive on the planet who didn’t know what that sound was.

Joan paused, scanning the buildings with uncertainty and- she had to admit- a certain morbid fascination. She’d been standing there listening, almost mesmerized, for a good three minutes now. It just didn't stop.

But listening in on it- on the grunting heaves and grotesque plops of half-liquid matter hitting mud that followed- felt oddly invasive, like she was watching two people have sex. Feeling a twinge of discomfort, Joan moved away from her spot, stepping quietly as she made her way over to dingy mound of bricks that used to be someone’s house. What she found almost sent her sprinting back to the building where Kitty was, scooping her up, and hightailing it out of those ruins.

“Oh god...”

A small chest sat upturned in a mess of blood splatters and debris in the middle of the house, although it was what was sticking out of it that made Joan’s gut truly twist in disgust. A pair of naked legs, wizened and bruised, protruded stiffly from the broken lid. There was no point in leaning down to check on the state of the body- only a blind man could possibly mistake it for being anything but dead.

Joan stood back, pressing the rough fabric of her collar to her lips. It wasn't the first dead body she had seen since her life was flipped upside down, but it wasn't any more pleasant than the bloodied corpses she’d been lying in the day before. At least those had been in daylight, and an obvious victim of the plague that was apparently now spreading through the country. This one looked more like a murder victim. Between the grisly discovery and the retching noises from somewhere beyond, Joan almost felt as though she'd stepped straight into a crime scene.

She swallowed heavily and turned back towards the sounds.

A body meant that some monster must have been here, but those retching noises were too human to belong to one of those “Hellhounds”. That meant that whatever was in here was a person, and if they'd been here for whatever had gone down in this village, maybe they were hurt. She had to see if they were alright.

Hesitantly, Joan followed the sounds with her hand on the grip of her axe.

A few stray beams of waning sunlight glowed over the hunched form in front of her- whoever it was, they had been crouching behind a broken wall in a stew of mud, perhaps having been in too much of a hurry to empty their stomach to find a cleaner spot. Or be concerned about anything, for that matter. Flabby, pale skin flashed in the light from where they peeked out from under their owner’s shirt, and above that lay a twitching expanse of blue and white. Even in the dimness, Joan could see how the figure was quaking, convulsions rippling through its whole body as it continued to cough into the mud.

Joan’s first impulse was to recoil- as if the less-than-appealing rear view she'd just been treated to hadn't been enough, the thoughts from her first few minutes in the town had come flooding back into her mind. Not even a crazy man could look at ruined, empty streets and buildings that had been full of people a short five years before and not wonder what had happened.

The figure shifted, the unpleasant sounds trailing off into a series of wet coughs as it lifted its head and turned to squint into the light, a mixture of nausea and trepidation sculpted onto the pale, shaven features. Then the coughing became a groan. Perhaps of relief, that the thing poking its head in from around the corner was another human being and not a creature from the plague, or perhaps of disgust and revulsion at being discovered in the middle of such a humiliating activity and at the intrusive light piercing the cramped darkness.

It was a man.

A young, somewhat corpulent man, dressed in brown pants and a green shirt, with tufts of brown hair (now plastered flat against his forehead in perspiration) swept out of his chocolate eyes. Probably somewhere in his twenties, though much older than Joan.

A man.

Not a monster.

Joan relaxed, the sour, nervous prickle that had started to tweak her insides subsiding into relief.

Relief that further faded into discomfort as the pale face turned away from her in favor of heaving into the mud again. There was a liquidy gurgle accompanying it this time, and Joan almost considered muttering a hasty apology and turning to leave him be when the figure finally spoke, in a breathless and strained voice that ran out of steam towards the end, leaving the final word a gasp of pitiful breath.

“I-it wasn’t me... I didn’t do it!”

Grasping the wall, Joan leaned back in, feeling her brows rise to a peak. As disgusting as the display before her was, she could feel very little but sympathy for this poor man.

“Do what?” She asked, although even as she spoke, her thoughts were drifting to the body in the other broken down house.

“I... I didn’t do anything. I swear,” Pleaded the stranger, still leaning over in the mud as though worried there might be more coming up. "She was like this when I got here..."

He choked again, spitting something into the mud with a grimace.

It was hardly the ideal time for an introduction, but Joan found herself giving one anyway. Mostly because she had no idea what to say on the subject of what this guy here had or hadn't done.

“My, uh, my name's Joan,” She offered amiably, and was rewarded with a horrible, retching belch in return that made her resolve falter somewhat. She finished with an unsure tone. "...Joan Meutas."

“Uhm... George,” Croaked the stranger weakly.

Joan nodded slowly.

“George...” She said softly as the poor man's vomiting resumed, keeping her tone quiet. She was pretty sure the last thing anybody wanted while they were sick was someone barging in and loudly demanding answers. "Who's that dead guy in the chest?"

“I didn’t do it!” George moaned miserably. “I swear, I didn’t kill anybody!”

That hadn't been what Joan asked, but she thought better of repeating herself and just stood there by the broken wall, shifting slightly and listening to the ongoing symphony of the man’s guts emptying themselves.

“Well...” She said, thinking of the body in the other room, mere yards from where George had thrown himself down to be sick. When she had come around the corner, this man had been completely vulnerable. If it had been a dog creeping behind him instead of Joan, George would have been caught with his pants down. Literally. "I guess this place isn't too safe... What happened here, anyway?"

“Uh... I don’t know. I’m not even from this country. Passing through for business for my sister...” George explained, “That body...scared the hell out of me. Or my lunch.”

Joan hummed sympathetically, which she almost found weird given the large and very obvious age gap between them.

George has finally stopped heaving. He leaned back, wiped his mouth, grimaced at the mess he had made, then stood up.

“Sorry,” He said. “That was...” He doesn’t finish that statement, instead turning it into a light joke, “If my sister caught me like this she’d be pulling on my hair.”

Joan cracked a slight smile. She notices that George is scanning her over, probably wondering why she was out there all alone, but before he could actually ask, a deep rumbling shook the whole ground. Joan staggered a little, placing one hand on the broken wall for balance.

“Oh no...” George muttered. Joan looks over at him worriedly. The rumbling sounds get louder.

“What?”

“They’re here.”

With horrifying timing, the ground several meters away broke open and an infestation of black came out in dark waves.

Joan screams. George grabs her arm and tries to pull her to a lopsided house, but she resists.

“My friend!” She cried, “I have to get my friend!”

“What?!”

Joan doesn’t bother answering him- she beelines for the house where Kitty is, noticing several cracks forming in the dirt as she did so. George follows her and they burst into the building, scrambling to slam the door shut behind them.

“Are you crazy?!” George yelled. “You could have gotten us both killed!”

“You didn’t have to follow me!” Joan said.

“What kind of adult would I be if I let you run around during an infestation?” George snaps back.

“Joey?”

Joan and George both turned around sharply. Kitty is sitting up on the bed, holding Mercy to her chest and looking very curious.

“What’s going on? What are those noises? Who’s that?” She asked, her age making her unaware of the danger around her.

“This is George,” Joan introduced quickly. “George, this is Kitty. The cat’s Mercy.”

“Hello. WE NEED TO GO.” George said. “Grab your friend- we can climb up onto the roof from this hole.”

Joan obeys, quickly scooping Kitty up into her arms as George manages to clamber up onto the roof from a hole in the ceiling. He grabs Kitty when Joan passes her up, then helps hoist the teenager up. There, they all set their eyes upon the sea of black surrounding them.

There had to be hundreds of them. They all had the same jet black, patchy fur, so black they nearly melted into the darkness of night. Their eyes, however, were as white as a blind man’s- glazed and foggy, but something told Joan they didn’t need to see to track a person down.

“Oh god,” George muttered.

“That’s a lot of rats!” Kitty said helpfully.

“What do we do?” Joan asked.

“Nothing,” George said, sitting down heavily.

“What?” Joan’s eyes widened. “We can’t just sit here!”

“We have to. They don’t like light, but we have no fire. If we had meat we could distract them long enough to run, but we don’t have that either.” George explained, “There’s no choice but to wait until morning.”

Joan’s heart sank. She looked around desperately, praying to find something to help them, but there was nothing.

“Where did they come from?” She eventually asked, sitting down. Kitty scuttles into her arms and she holds her close to her chest.

“Don’t know,” George answered honestly. “They just...appeared one day. The church thinks it’s a warning from God. Doesn’t sound too unlikely. What kind of normal rats could come out of the ground like that?”

Joan nodded slowly. She stared fearfully down at the rats scuttling around on the ground, squeaking and hissing. They smelled of bloody mud and rot.

“So,” George spoke up again, trying to make idle conversation to lighten the tense mood, “What are two kids walking about all alone for?”

“We’re trying to find Catherine of Aragon.” Joan answered him, but her voice was slightly distant. An idea has sparked in her mind.

George whistled. “You’ve got awhile to go, kid. You still have to cross the canal to get to the mainland.” He pauses. The rats shriek wildly below. “Tell you what: Once morning comes, you both can come with me to the nearby port. The ship there will take you to my sister’s kingdom in France. She can help you out further.”

Joan nods slowly. She cups the back of Kitty’s head, pressing her face into her neck, then sits back further, trying to get comfortable on that old, rickety roof.

“Where is this port?” She asked.

“A few more miles north,” George nods in the direction of a nearby path. “We’ll follow that road and you’ll see a tower by the bay. The ship should be there.”

Joan nodded once more, thanked George for his generosity, then kicked him off of the building.

Saying the rats surrounded him was an understatement- their movements weren’t thought out, there was no moment of inspection or a hesitation to sniff; it was just a feral instinct within, a primal need to feed and, all at once, they snapped around, no matter how far or how close, and swarmed George.

The rats literally pile on top of each other, becoming one huge writhing black mass as they push and shove to get to the man. And, when they did, they began biting and gnawing and chewing the flesh off of his body while he was still screaming.

To his credit, George does put up a fight. He gets to his knees, swatting and slapping all over as if he were on fire, but his efforts were in vain. There were much to many rats and, once they tunneled into his stomach, tore his eyes out and stuck their snouts into the sockets, clawed open his throat, dug through his organs, pulled him to pieces, he was no match for their talons and teeth.

Joan watched this all, still reeling from her action, but she knew it had to be done. In the end, all that mattered in the world was her and Kitty; everybody else were mere lambs to the slaughter- a body waiting to be sacrificed, whether they wanted to die or not.

Joan leapt off of the building and ran as fast as she could. Instantly, pain ignited in her legs, and she swore she could hear her muscles singing in agony. Or, perhaps, it was just the ringing in her ears or the delusions of an exhausted young girl.

She was literally running for her life, she realized. This wasn’t like the escape from London- somehow, there was a more underlying terror that came with running away from man-eating rats than man himself. Due to this, Joan felt as if she had wings. Despite her legs pulsing in an intense pain that felt as though all her tendons were being pulled apart, she thought she was faster than usual.

It was probably the adrenaline.

In her arms, Kitty and Mercy clung desperately to her shirt, both of their nails digging in. The extra weight didn’t seem to bother her- the adrenaline rush gave her strength she didn’t know she had. If she weren’t worried about being eaten alive by rodents, then she might have marveled at her ability to run while carrying a seven-year-old and a hairless cat.

Unfortunately, fight or flight doesn’t last forever, and the full extent of her overexertion hit her like a steel mace to her knees. Suddenly, the ground is rushing up to meet her, Kitty is crying out, Mercy makes a startled warble, and there’s dirt in her mouth.

Joan lays dazed on the road like a broken doll, blinking blearily up at the twinkling stars above. Their glow bleeds together into a big silver smear that paints the night sky. In a weird sort of way, it’s almost beautiful.

“Joey!”

Kitty is shaking her back and forth. There’s fear in her voice.

“Joey, come on! Get up! Th-they’re coming!”

Joan groans softly. Her awareness wavers and she momentarily dips into complete darkness. Sleep sounded so nice right now...

“JOAN!!!”

It isn’t Kitty’s shriek that makes Joan snap up, rather the feral growl coming from the woods around them.

Joan sits up, her eyes bulging as she stares at the golden orbs peering out from the underbrush. First a paw emerges, then the leg, and finally the Hellhound slinks out into the open.

It looks like a German Shepherd, except for the twin pieces of gold shoved in its skull. It walks smoothly on its razor claws, stepping onto the path only a few yards away from Joan and Kitty. Nostrils flaring, it sniffs the air. Its tail lashes.

Mercy leaps down in front of the girls. He arches his spine, hissing lowly. If he had fur it would be standing on end.

The Hellhound snarls. Bunching it’s hind legs, it lunges forward. Mercy lunges, too, and narrowly misses the beast’s foaming jaws. He slides when he lands, hisses, then rakes his claws across the dog’s soft nose when it attempts to bite him. Blood spurts from the deep wound and the Hellhound whines like a puppy would, but Mercy has no pity for the thing. He brings his claws to the nose again and again until chunks come off and a nasty hole is left on the snout.

The Hellhound yowls, tottering backwards, then swipes its front legs at Mercy. One paw catches the cat and pins him to the ground. The black claws are so close to his throat.

Joan didn’t think another adrenaline rush was possible with her so exhausted, but she quickly found herself up on her feet and and cleaving her axe down onto the Hellhound’s neck.

The beast howls. It releases Mercy and whips around to attack Joan, only to get the head of an axe slamming directly into its eyes. The blade cuts straight through the eyeballs, gushing fluids out all over its snout, and gets lodged in its skull. When pulling does nothing to help, Joan kicks the thing in the neck and her axe jars free. She then promptly swung again and doesn’t stop swinging until the Hellhound’s head came off. Only then does she lower the axe and let herself breathe.

Mercy blinks up at her. He whacked the Hellhound’s snout one final time, then jumped onto Joan’s shoulder. They return to Kitty, who is still frozen in her spot.

“You killed the puppy...” She whispered.

Joan makes a disgruntled face. She gently rubs the top of Kitty’s head, hoping to cheer her up with the affection.

“It was a bad puppy,” Joan said. “Come on, up you go. There’s just a little further.”

Kitty nodded silently, casting a saddened look at the dead dog before taking Joan’s hand and letting her lead her down the path again.

Hand-in-hand, they walk for two and a half miles before the smell of the sea hits them. When the ocean eventually came into view, Kitty jets forward, startling Joan out of her half-daze (it’s sad that she’s learned how to nap while walking in just a span of a few days).

“Joey! Joey, look! The sea!”

Joan attempts to run after her, but her legs ache in protest, so she just walks as fast as she can without it being excruciating. She smiled when she found the little girl crouched on the rocks along the shore, feeling the chilly water and giggling when the waves spray her with a sprinkle of salty droplets.

“Have you ever seen the ocean before?” Joan asked.

“Uh-uh,” Kitty shook her head. “It’s so much prettier than the pictures!”

“Isn’t it?” Joan chuckles.

She leaves Mercy with Kitty, despite his initial resistance of meows, to let her play and found the tower on her own. It wasn’t like the towers back at London (don’t think about London don’t think about how you’ll never be able to go home again), but it was intact and would shelter them until the ship arrived.

Oh, right. The ship wasn’t even there yet.

Joan clenched her jaw so hard it hurt, but then breathed out the harsh breath. Getting angry wasn’t going to make the boat magically appear; they would just have to wait until it showed up.

(If it even showed up.)

“Kitty,” She called and Kitty came over with Mercy trotting along behind her. “This is where we’re going to be staying for now.”

“Okay,” Kitty nodded. “Do we stay here until mummy shows up?”

There it was. That damn question. Joan didn’t blame Kitty for asking it, but it was still painful to have to hear.

“Umm... Yes.” Joan said, “A boat will come and we’re going to get on it when it does and go to France.”

Kitty huffs and stamped her foot. She seemed to be getting annoyed with how Joan kept putting off the reunion with her mother.

“Why is she there?” She whined, “I want to see mummy now!”

Joan grits her teeth. After sacrificing an innocent man, watching said man get eaten alive by rats, running for her life, and decapitating a dog, she really wasn’t in the mood to hear complaining.

“You’re going to have to wait.” She said, tone stern.

“I don’t wanna wait!” Kitty yelled, “I want mummy NOW!!”

“Shut up, you little devil!” Joan hissed.

“No!!” Kitty shrieked even louder, “You’re mean! I hate you!” She turned and ran into the tower.

Joan pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily. Kitty’s “insult” was but a childish outburst, but her companion saying she hated her, despite it obviously not being true, stung more than she would like to admit.

Shaking her head and looking down at Mercy, she says, “Kids.”

————

Space was probably the best thing for Kitty right now, so Joan explored the tower by herself. Most of the rooms were dusty and old, but some of the furniture was still intact and usable. She ends up claiming a small stone room with a bed, desk, and musty bookshelf full of even mustier books to sleep in and laid there after lighting torches around the spire.

Finally in a relatively-safe place, Joan pulls off her boots, took off her tunic (it reeked and still had chunks of vomit dried on it), and laid down. Getting off her feet was a huge relief and she actually found herself sighing out loud. The pain ebbs and she rests...

A dip in the old mattress caused Joan to jolt up with a gasp. She pawed around for her axe or bow, but a tiny voice halts her.

“You’re really jumpy, Joey.”

Joan froze, then breathed out a soft sigh of relief. It was just Kitty.

“Were you hit?”

The question came out of nowhere. Added with how nonchalant Kitty’s tone was when she said it, it left Joan sputtering in confusion.

Was the torchlight bright enough to reveal the silver and red scars lacing her back? And, if so, how could have Kitty seen them with her back facing away from her?

“I-I-...” She can’t muster up the words to explain or deny or say Kitty was being weird and needed to go to bed.

“Let me introduce you to a hand that won’t hurt you.”

And then Kitty hugged her so gently.

[delaware-lemme-smash]

Smut scenario with my beautiful barbarian boy Bakugou, please? Maybe saving a village girl being attacked by raiders? :D

You’ve spawned a multichapter fic, so I hope you’re happy with yourself, lmao. Here you go, lovely. The smut will be in the second installment as this one needed some build-up.

In the Cave of the Mountain King - Chapter One

Bakugou Katsuki

'Your father has a fever,' your mother had said,wringing out another wet cloth to lay over your father's forehead. Her face waspinched tight with worry. 'He needs herbs, but I can't leave him in this state.Go quickly and fetch some Tennyo Slipper, but don't go too far up the slope.

'But...there's a storm coming. Elder Mikongyusaid-'

'I know, but we don't have a choice.' Your motherlooked more tired than you'd ever seen her, worn thin by a poor harvest and along winter. 'With the sickness in the spring, we used up all of last year'ssupply. Go quickly.'

What other choice did you have? Despite yourmisgivings, you changed into a rough smock, and pants that tied shut at theankle. You bound back your hair in a plain bit of cloth. It would keep it outof your face, absorb sweat, and shade your eyes from the sun. Last, you loopedrope over your shoulders and around your waist and secured a small gatheringbag to your hip.

Tennyo Slipper was a strange, elusive littleplant. It seemed the kind of delicate flower that should only grow in asheltered spot in the forest, or in some daimyo's garden. Instead it grew highup the slopes of the mountains, where rain and wind and strong sun lashed atit.

Now, hours later, you clung to the mountain likean insect climbing a tree.

You huffed, gripping the trunk of a tree to pushyourself further up the sharp incline. The soil beneath your feet was thin now,compared to the thick loam at the base. The trees here dug into the shallowbed, their roots squiggling across the rocks to cling to the face of themountain. This was a place for birds and mountain goats, not village girls.

Tennyo Slipper grew between the rocks, justbeyond where the trees began to peter out. You climbed higher. Higher still.You dug your feet into nooks and crannies, wedging yourself between tree rootsand dry, spindly branches. Sweat beaded on your forehead, dried under thebeating sun, ad infinitum. Your muscles cramped and burned as you scrabbled upthe side of the mountain.

The trees gave way until you were climbing barerock. Finally, you saw it. A sprig of green jutting out between the dry brownrocks. The heads of tiny, blue, slipper-shaped flowers nodding in the breeze,almost as if in encouragement.

You let out a shaky gasp of relief and looked forthe next handhold. This was no time to go rushing ahead of yourself justbecause the end was in sight. You took care to wedge your feet securely intothe cracked face of the mountain, and stretched your hand up to claim yourprize

A hand reached down out of the mountain itself andclamped around your wrist in an iron grip. You froze, skin pickling with alarm.Only instinct made you cringe closer to the rockface instead of away.

The hand was followed by an arm, then a head, theface leering. Your mouth dried out, pulse pounding with fear and exertion.

'What do we got here, then?' the face said. Theirvoice was rough, face smeared in dirt and red crust. It split into a wickedgrin. 'Looks like a little village sparrow. This ain't a good place for you togo roostin', girl.'

'What are you?' you asked, voice as thin as themountain air. 'A rock demon?'

'Hah?'

The creature gave your arm a rough yank. You wereripped upward, into the mountain. A shriek tore out of you. You slammedonto a flat, hard, surface, knocking the wind out of you.

You turned your head. There was a cliff-edge,then endless horizon. It was some kind of plateau. The mountain above theTennyo Slipper had been nothing but an illusion.

Before you had time to confront your assailant,more ragged shapes began to emerge from between the rocks. Crouching low, theymoved toward you, their predatory intent clear. As they got closer you couldmake out the same reddish-brown, flaking paint smeared across their faces.

Your stomach heaved. Barbarians.

The streaks across their faces could only beblood.

You rolled into a crouch, hand groping for yourbelt knife. You weren't helpless, some pampered noble girl in a merchantcaravan. You wouldn't go down easy. Your eyes flicked across the mountainledge, looking for escape. There was a dark crack in the stone just behind theillusionist. Foolish. You'll get lost, and there's more of them inside.

You could try to scramble down the mountain, butthey'd know it better than you. You were still trying to decide on which way torun when something hard slammed into the side of your head. The barbarians weresideways, and then the dark closed in.

There was an ache in your head like you'd drunktoo much New Year's wine, but that couldn't be right. The Lunar New Year hadbeen months ago in the frosts of winter. There hadn't been much wine, or muchof anything.

It was strangely dark. A dusty, coppery smellmade your nose itch.

You lifted a hand toward your head, only torealise you couldn't. That ache between your shoulders wasn't from lying onyour lumpy futon, it was from having your arms wrenched behind you and lashedtogether.

Everything was starting to make a horrible kindof sense.

The sour taste in your mouth was some kind ofsedative. A blow to the head couldn't have kept you down for long, not withoutserious consequences. That brought back the memory of your father's fever, theTennyo Slipper, the blood-painted barbarians.

Fear knotted your guts together. You twistedaround in the dark, squinting for any source of light. There was a warm glow onthe opposite wall. It flickered, painting long shadows on the rocky wall. Acave.

You were inside the mountain.

Panic clogged your throat, which probably savedyour life. A shadow danced across the wall, creeping closer. You closed youreyes, going limp. Your heart throbbed in your throat, your breath trembled inand out. Stay calm, stay calm.

'Still asleep, pigeon-girl?' The same rough voicefrom earlier. Coarse fingers grabbed a handful of your hair, and pulled. Youbit your lip to keep from crying out, eyes stinging. The barbarian cackled,then raised her voice. 'Get the spit ready!'

Your eyes snapped open. Spit? Were theyplanning to roast you?

Outrage and nameless, animal terror shattered anyself-preservation you had left. You kicked out - they hadn't thought to bindyour legs, catching the barbarian under her chin. She shrieked, clutching hermouth. You surged up onto your knees, wobbling, and staggered toward the sourceof the firelight.

You emerged into a huge central chamber, hewn outof the bowels of the mountain by crude tools. A huge fire flickered in thecentre, turning the place into a giant oven. You caught the room in brief,panicked flashes. Bloody barbarians lounging around, picking their teeth.Scrawny, hungry bodies - shadows between their ribs. A long, metal spit, rustedwith blood.

The dark mouth of a tunnel on the other side.

There was a split-second moment of confusion atthe sight of you. You dodged around the fire, gunning for the tunnel. Don'ttrip, don't trip. If you fell, you had no way to get back to your feet.They'd be on you in seconds. Cold air washed over you. You dove toward it.Night had fallen. You got three steps out into the cool, fresh air beforesomething crashed into your back, driving you face-down onto the stone plateau.Knees dug into your back. The cold, bright line of a blade pressed against yourthroat.

'Dinner doesn't get to run away,' the barbariansaid. She inhaled, spittle rattling between her teeth. She was drooling. 'We ain't eaten in weeks, girl. And now we allwant roast pigeon.'

'Too fuckin' bad.'

A rough voice cut across the plateau, closelyfollowed by a burst of flame. Pebbles skittled down the wall of the mountain,bouncing into the night. Something huge moved through the dark. Anothergout of flame illuminated it, glittering off red scales.

A dragon, with a fur-cloaked, leeringbarbarian crouched on its back. This new barbarian jumped down, landing in acatlike crouch. Moonlight glittered off his sword.

'Where'd you find this one?' he demanded,pointing the blade at you. 'One of the villages? Merchant caravan? Hah?'

'She crawled up the mountain,' the otherbarbarian said, defensive. 'She's ours!'

'I'm from...' You forced the words past yourtightened throat. 'Kyushu village!'

The words had the intended effect. The swordswung up, pressing into the cannibal's throat. The new barbarian was closeenough to see now. He had a shock of sandy-blonde hair, and eyes as scarlet ashis dragon's. His face was twisted with fury.

'What did I tell you last time?' he rasped,glaring down at the cannibal. 'Get off my mountain.'

'You have no right to order us, boy! You're notour king,' the cannibal spat.

Then literally spat. The bloody spittlelanded on the barbarian's cheek. He went deathly still, then, slowly, raisedhis arm and dragged the back of his wrist against his cheek. His eyes opened.His expression was murderous.

The blade lashed out before either of you couldtrack it. The cannibal's shriek of outrage cut off in a wet gurgle. Bloodsplattered the stone around you. The cannibal fell, her weight finally leavingyour back.

The barbarian turned his scarlet eyes to you. Hedidn't look any friendlier. He lunged for you.

You tried to scramble away, frantic until youfelt the tug at your ropes. He was cutting through them. The tension in yourarms gave way all of a sudden. A moan of pain left you as the circulationrushed back into your abused muscles. There was a long moment of silence as youstared at each other, hearts racing with adrenaline, the cannibal dying betweenyou with quiet gasps.

A howl rose up behind you. The rest of the clanhad crept from the cave mouth.

The dragon rider grabbed you by the back of yoursmock and dragged you toward the scarlet beast. You got your feet under you andsprinted alongside him. You had no idea what his intentions were but he wasyour best option right now. You'd rather be dragon food, gone in one bite, thanslowly roasted alive and carved up for scraps.

He all but threw you up the side of the dragon.You grabbed at spikes and scales, scrambling barefoot up the legendarycreature. There was a leather saddle strapped around its middle. You hauledyourself into it.

'Hold on, idiot!' the barbarian snapped, leapingup into the saddle.

The dragon let out another ferocious roar, thenthrew itself away from the mountain. Its great, webbed wings boomed as theycaught the air, then surged down, pistoning the three of you away from thecannibals' plateau.

You clung to the spines running down the dragon'sneck, stomach roiling. The barbarian made no effort to smooth the ride, busyflinging the cannibal's blood off his sword with noises of disgust.

'Where are you taking me!?' you cried over thewind.

'How about a fucking thank you!?' hesnarled, finally looking at you.

'I'll thank you when I know you're not planningto eat me!'

He gave you a look of such revulsion at thethought, you almost felt better. The dragon's flight curved away from themountains. The sun was setting far in the west, painting the underbelly of thegrowing storm clouds with a sullen red light. The temperature was droppingfast.

The first fat drop of rain splattered your cheek.The barbarian cursed. He grabbed the back of your shirt, pulling you backacross the saddle toward him. A brawny arm secured you against him. He calledsomething out to the dragon. The world tilted and rolled as the beast dove.

Rain fell heavily, like someone had pierced awaterskin. The dragon flew toward the top of the mountain. It was the highestin the range, jutting like a fang above the rest, snow clinging to its highestreaches. Your stomach sank. You'd climbed barely a fifth of the way up it onyour quest for the Tennyo Slipper. How were you ever going to get down now?

The dragon landed on a slender ledge that wasbarely big enough to hold it. Rock crumbled away from its talons, skitteringdown into the void. There was a cave at the very end of the ledge. The edgeshad a hacked look, scratched and scraped, and the stone was blackened.

Did his dragon carve this out?

The barbarian stood up in the saddle, cursingunder his breath at the freezing rain. He took one look at you, huddled andmiserable in your soaked clothes, and cursed some more. He moved too fast foryou to get away, slinging you over his shoulder like a dead mountain goat.

Unfortunately, that meant you were staring rightinto the open air as he climbed down the dragon and along the narrow ledge.

'Quit screaming!'

He ducked inside the cave. The rain cut off alongwith your shrieking. The cave was a small, roundish room gouged out of themountain. The ceiling was low - the barbarian's head brushed against it. Hedumped you on the floor, rolling the knots outof his shoulder. The stone wallswere blessedly silent after the hellscape of the last twenty minutes. Youweren't ready to trust him yet, though, eyeing him warily as he flung off hissodden fur cloak.

He was illuminated by the faint moonlight, alllean firm muscle. Hardly any scars. Either he was younger than he looked, or hewas just that good.

He said something, the words too guttural for youto follow. A  moment later, the dragonlaunched itself away from the ledge, disappearing into the downpour.

'Where's it going?' you asked.

He turned, giving you a look that implied youwere incredibly stupid. 'Does this place look like it would fit a fuckingdragon?'

Irritation surged. Did he have to be so goddamncondescending after all you'd been through? You were stuck up the side of a mountainwith no way down, with a dragon-riding barbarian who had just killed thecannibal who tried to eat you. Was a little understanding too much toask? Naturally, you gave voice to all this with pure sarcasm.

'I dunno, maybe if we scrunch up really fuckingtight and suck in our guts,' you grumbled. 'Not my fault you didn't make thecave big enough for him.'

The barbarian gave you a shrewd look. 'Tch, younoticed that, huh?'

'Caves don't just happen this high up. Andthere's claw marks on the walls.'

'If you're so goddman smart, how'd you end updinner for those barbarians?'

To hear the barbarian calling someone else abarbarian made you pause.

'You're not...one of them? From a differenttribe?'

'Do I fucking look like one of them?'

He pulled an oiled cloth off a bundle you hadn'tnoticed in the shadows. Wood was piled against the wall. With efficientmovements born of long practice, he started stacking wood and kindling in theashy fire pit. Then he did something odd. He rubbed his palms together vigorously,then held them out toward the wood.Sparks sputtered from his palms, then a miniature blast. The wood, and yourbreath, caught. Magic.

You'd suspected, considering the dragon, thatthis barbarian was something unusual, but the magic confirmed it. It was arare, dangerous gift.

The fire grew, sending out a halo of goldenlight. You stretched your shivering hands toward it, staring at your would-berescuer. He was right. He was nothing like the cannibals. He was muscled andstrong, with feral, handsome feature and the healthy complexion of someone whospent a lot of time outdoors. Probably flying his dragon, you thoughtwonderingly.

The thought of flying in this weather ony madeyou shiver again.

He gave you an irritable frown, then reached fora blanket from the pile in the corner and lobbed it at you. You dragged itaround yourself while he rooted around in his stores. This, you realisedbelatedly, was probably his home.

'Then...where are you from?' Is this really yourmountain?'

'It will be when I've kicked those freaks offit,' he growled. 'Every time I get rid of a few, more come crawling out of thetunnels. They're like rats.'

'You weren't born here.' Not a question. Now youwere listening closely, his accent was unusual.

He looked at you, the beads around his neckrattling. 'South. The Kahei mountains.'

You stared. 'That's across the continent!'

'Yeah, well, I've got a fucking dragon if youdidn't notice.'

'Why are you here?'

His temper had reached the end of its very shortfuse. He glared at you over his shoulder. 'I could ask you the same fuckingthing! What's some lowlands peasant like you doing up here? Shouldn't you knowbetter?'

You bristled at being called a peasant, only torealise you'd all but called him a cannibal earlier. And you were dirty,bloody, and soaked.

'I need Tennyo Slipper. My father has a feverthat won't break. There's none in the village.'

'Tennyo Slipper? What does it look like?'

You described it, and he snorted. 'That shittylittle blue flower? There's fucking tons of it further down the South face. Ithought it was a weed.'

You stared at him. 'Really? Can you take methere?'

He gave you a look of utter fucking disbelief.'No.'

Well, that was clear enough. You were hesitant topush the issue. You were stuck with him in this tiny cave until the stormcleared, after all, and you were relying on his good mood to get back down themountain when morning came.

'Do you have anything to eat?'

It should've sickened you to think of food sosoon after you'd been on the menu yourself, but your stomach growled like acornered badger. The barbarian pulled a handful of dried meat from hissupplies, a bundle of wild turnips, and a flask of water. To your surprise, hefollowed it up with a copper pot and a bag of loose leaves. Tea?

The meat was tough and salty. You chewed it downanyway between sips of scalding, weedy tea. You began to thaw from the insideout until you were just uncomfortable, rather than chilled to the bone.

'Why did you save me?' you asked.

Your questions were irritating him, but he didn'tsnap at you. When was the last time he had someone to talk to? youwondered.

'You just happened to be there,' he asserted,leaning back against a jut of rock. 'Don't go thinking you're special.'

'Wouldn't dream of it,' you retorted, grindinganother chunk of meat between your teeth. 'What's your name?'

There was a long pause. You could feel himassessing you. Finally, he spoke.

'Bakugou Katsuki.'

It suited him - it was just as confident andaggressive. He said it like he expected it to mean something, and so, it did.He was the self-declared King of the Mountain. Sitting here in a cave with him,firelight glinting off his fang-shaped earrings and in his scarlet eyes, youcould almost see how he would become a legend. The barbarian king with hisdragon and his explosive magic. Little boys would be asking their mothers forstories about him in a generation or two. Your gaze moved to his muscled arms,his smooth, ferally-handsome features.

Maybe it won't just be young boys listening tothe stories...

'The fuck are you staring at?'

'Uh...'

There was no decent answer to that, so youshrugged and put the last hunk of dried meat in your mouth. Your stomach wasfar from full, but it was better than nothing.

Sleep dragged at your eyelids. You cast a furtivelook at the nest of furs in the corner. It was unwise to sleep around anexploding barbarian you'd only just met, but the adrenaline had leached out ofyou, leaving you a empty and shaken.

'Tch. Go sleep. Lowlanders.'

You heard him muttering about stupid lowlandersnot being able to function unless the air was like soup, but ignored it. Thefurs were piled so deep you had to crawl into them like a mouse making its nestand drag them over you. The heavy weight of them pressed you down, squeezingout the last of your energy.

You drowsed for a while, listening to theconstant hiss and patter of rain outside and watching the light of the firedance along the craggy walls. It dimmed suddenly, and there was a faintrustling sound, followed by two muted, leathery thuds.

The furs shifted, letting a sharp chill crawlinto the warm space you'd hollowed out for yourself. You turned, staringblearily up at Bakugou.

'What are you doing?'

'This is my fucking bed,' he said. 'I'm notsleeping on the fucking floor because you wanted to try getting your ass killed.Move over, woman.'

You moved over, wide-eyed and wide awake. Bakugoutook up most of the space under the furs and more, pressing against your backand legs. He grunted, annoyed, and shifted to make himself comfortable. The warmthturned to a pricking heat. You were all too aware of the hard lines of his bodydigging into yours, even with his back to you.

‘Fucking relax and go to sleep,’ he ordered,clearly annoyed by your sudden tension. ‘You’re not my type.’

‘What!?’ you snapped. ‘I wasn’t even thinkingthat!’

‘Sure you weren’t,’ he snickered. He shoved an elbowback into you. ‘Sleep or I’ll kick you off the mountain, wench.’

‘Barbarian,’ you muttered under your breath,forcing your eyes shut. ‘Probably too clean for you.’

‘Keep telling yourself that.’

[aching-tummies]

Chocolate Indulgence

Ever had one of those moments where you're staring down a food-item you know is going to absolutely wreck your stomach...but you know you'll eat it anyway?

Most of the people I know that have a dairy-sensitivity (e.g. lactose, rectin, etc.) tend to have moments like that frequently. They know eating cheese is going to cause Satan-himself to reach in and clench their stomach in his vice-like grip, but one does not simply say 'no' to pizza. Then there's the ones that ensure they've got dibs on the closest washroom before they shovel ice-cream or a milkshake into their system and that particular washroom becomes a hazmat zone for the next three hours. I've seen the latter used with purpose too when this particular someone I knew was pretty backed-up while travelling. He was out with some friends when he realized it'd been quite a while since he had last went no.2. His friends knew about his dairy-sensitivity and their eyes widened when he ordered something with dairy from the shiftiest-looking vendor in the area (he was also a huge germaphobe, so the fact that he went even 3 ft near that vendor already caused jaws to drop). He chugged it, asked his friends to wait around the area for a solid hour or two, and then proceeded to violate the public washroom. He came back looking like the definition of ‘relief’ just as his friends had started to think he had died ‘cuz they didn’t expect him to be in the washroom that long.

While not as dramatic, I sort of had one of these moments last night. Of course, it wasn't just that one moment that led to that, it was a whole day of events that led up to the moment.

I started the day going out to have breakfast with a family member before heading off to work. A favorite fast-food chain had recently opened a location near our place and near the place I worked so we decided to go there for breakfast/lunch, whatever you want to call it. I've been eating less recently, being busy and anxious about work and some other life-stuff...also with my work being at non-consistent hours my family member ends up eating without me and most of the time I'm too exhausted to bother cooking for myself. I live with some fairly judgemental family members who go off on me if I don't clean up properly when they say so and cooking for myself just becomes more of a hassle than it's worth. E.g. I'll make some instant noodles for myself and before I've even taken the first bite they'll come over and start screeching about how I left a cooking utensil in the sink rather than clean it and leave it out to dry before I sat down to eat. I was already eating straight out of the pot I was cooking the thing in, the utensil was a butter-knife I used to get some XO sauce or whatever out of the jar and into the pot...and the butter knife wasn't necessary or useful for eating the noodles. My plan was to leave it in the sink and wash everything all at once in about 20 minutes when I had finished my food. I didn't want to deal with the screeching after hours of dealing with customers and co-workers screeching at me to do a task while I was in the middle of doing another task someone else had screeched at me to do, so I've opted to roll with being hungry for the last few days. My usual routine was wake up, get ready, make a quick breakfast to get me through my shift, come home and stay out of the way until dinner time with my family--if there was going to be a shared dinner-time, and then go to bed.

Yesterday was basically the same. I had breakfast at a fast-food restaurant with a family member who was kind enough to drop me off at work. After work I decided to come home rather than eat out after work (I wanted to save some money). I went home and was already pretty hungry but dinner wasn't going to be for another four or more hours. I ended up taking a nap, realizing after I woke up that I had managed to get through the day without drinking coffee, and that was probably why I ended up napping. I got downstairs to find that my family member had opted to cook for themselves, meaning I was on my own for dinner. I grabbed something small and self-contained to avoid being yelled at for making a mess and went about my business. Hours later, I was getting ready for bed. I couldn't sleep 'cuz my stomach had been growling at me since I started brushing my teeth. I was fairly awake from the nap I had taken so I decided, "screw it--I'll grab something to eat and watch a movie or something before I go to sleep".

What to eat, right? After days of being hungry after work, I decided I deserved a treat. I was really craving something sweet, but the only thing that satisfied that sweet tooth was some coffee I had in the fridge...which I was definitely not going to indulge in. I wanted to sleep eventually and coffee at 2AM was ridiculous. What else is sweet and goes almost hand-in-hand with coffee? Chocolate. Pancakes would make a mess, mug-cake was an option but I didn't want to measure out everything...also, one of my family members has been pretty snarky about finding flour on the counters. Some of it is from them, but since I'm the one that's always making home-made pasta and other types of noodles it's always my fault if there's a powdery substance on the counters. I didn't want to just outright eat chocolate chips like I usually do 'cuz I had already brushed my teeth and felt bad about eating something that would stick to my teeth and add to decay. In the end, I opted for a mug of hot chocolate. I was craving something sweet, specifically chocolate, and hot chocolate fit the bill. If I rinsed my mouth with some water after drinking it then it’d probably be okay.

My usual method is dumping the packet into a mug, filling it about 2/3 of the way with hot water, stirring until the powder is dissolved, and then topping up the final 1/3 with cold 2% milk. The milk makes it richer as well as cools down the contents enough to drink. I hesitated a little about adding the milk, the boba-incident fresh in my mind. I decided "screw it. I don't have to work tomorrow" and I added the milk to the mug. I decided to indulge further. It's been a crappy week walking on eggshells at home and at work and choosing to be hungry rather than listen to family members rant and yell over a bit of flour...so I found some nutella and added a generous spoonful to the hot chocolate. If you haven't tried this, you should (provided you don't have a nut allergy). I recommend dissolving the nutella in the hot-water/powder mix, prior to adding milk. The heat will allow it to melt that much faster. That mug of hot chocolate was heavenly.

I took the mug upstairs and put on something to watch while I enjoyed my chocolate-y treat. A couple of hours later, I was ready for bed.

As I lay down, waiting to sleep, I felt an odd sensation in my stomach. It wasn't painful. It was just shy of uncomfortable. It was an odd feeling I couldn't place. Was I still hungry? Were my guts unhappy with the little bit of dairy in the hot chocolate? It felt like a mild pressure around my navel-area, but my stomach was definitely empty too. I rubbed my stomach a little, staying awake for a while monitoring the feeling, hoping that it wouldn't be a repeat of the boba incident. I didn't have to work the next day, but I didn't want to go about the whole day feeling like a painfully bloated basketball. I don't know if it was gas from the dairy 'cuz I couldn't burp and I didn't feel any gurgles or gas-bubbles moving around under my palms. It wasn’t entirely like hunger either. It felt like there was something sitting in my guts...not painfully, but just present, and my stomach was undecided about whether this something meant it was allowed to be hungry or not. I guess my stomach was confused. It was so late that it was early, usually an hour where everything is asleep, there was dairy somewhere slightly bloating up my guts, but it was also hungry. I had downed dairy on an empty stomach and it was confused...was it supposed to still be hungry? Was it supposed to go to sleep? Was the dairy going to be a problem? To growl or not to growl? 

Definitely not as dramatic as something my dairy-sensitive friends have gone through, but that's what I thought about while I was soothing my stomach before going to sleep. I added the milk to my hot chocolate, wary that it would upset my stomach. Whatever that feeling was, at least it allowed me to sleep. I was still hungry, seeing as the only solid food I had to eat was over 14 hours ago and it was the 'empty calories' of fast food, but at least I didn't have to contend with the gnawing hunger as I tried to sleep. I didn’t add a whole lot of milk into the hot chocolate, so it wasn’t enough to cause some major indigestion. Not sure if this happens to other people too, but I've found that when I sleep on a hungry stomach I wake up with a corner of my pillow in my mouth and a loud and cramping stomach demanding I fill it before it plays the 'nausea' card. I didn't want to spend my day off feeling hungry, nauseous, and contending with indigestion.

As always, feel free to send asks in talking about tummy stuff. If it hits my kinks or I like it, I'll post the reply. If you don't see it odds are either that tumblr ate it or I'm not really interested in it and I can't contact you to say that if you're on-anon. Sometimes I’ll let the ask sit in my inbox for a while until I figure out how I’ll respond to it. I tend to be hungry fairly often lately, so if you ever wanna just send a stab in the dark hunger-RP-esque ask that’s totally fine. I’m not too big on the idea of teasing with food or overly patronizing banter, but tummy-centric stuff like manual stimulation of my hungry tummy for the growls/sensations or some way to torture my aching guts is usually something I’m down for. Hands on a suffering stomach are a pretty steady craving whenever I fall into kink-feels.  Navel-stuff is rare to see, but definitely welcome too. 

[angstyaches]

okay so here is my request: charlie doesn't go to school and shayne is worried so he goes to check up on charlie and see why he missed school just to find him in bed with a really bad stomach bug? cue shayne going out of his way a little to comfort charlie through rounds and rounds of puking and stomach cramps?

Thank you anon, this was such a fun prompt. I hope you enjoy it, and it’s not too rambly. I had no idea how to finish it off, but one can imagine the sick goes on all night and into the next day. Maybe there’ll be a part 2 if I don’t get any new ideas.

Charlie was dreaming about tiny boats being tossed out on the water, bobbing in and out of his view as he gazed out from the dark. He was dreaming about rocks that were more like daggers, jutting into the flesh of his legs and his hands as tears dropped from his face. His heart felt as empty, as hollow, as that cave, and he couldn’t see anything past this moment, as though his future just didn’t exist. Just like he shouldn’t have –

“Charlie?”

His eyes flicked open to find his room in the Mulberry house in semi-darkness, sensing a figure by his side. He rolled onto his side, wondering how he was able to move while the demon, Charlie Two, was also up and about, until his vision focused a bit and he realised this was no demon.

“Hey,” Charlie mumbled. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you weren’t at school.” Shayne frowned and sat at the edge of the bed, next to Charlie’s legs. “So I thought I’d check that you hadn’t gone full demon, murdered your parents, and burned my childhood home to the ground.”

“That’s weirdly specific.” Charlie’s stomach bubbled with what felt like hot lava, burning the back of his throat too. He groaned, wrapping his arms around his belly and burying his face in his pillow. “How – how’d you get in?”

“You unlocked the back door for me, with your telekinesis. Didn’t you?” Shayne frowned, glancing between Charlie’s hands clutching his gut and his face contorting in pain. “You know what? Never mind. Jesus, you look like hell.”

Stomach churning rather noisily, Charlie mumbled a laugh. “Didn’t have time to make myself look cute for you.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely what I meant.”

“Shayne, were you…Worried about me?” Charlie waited, eyes shut, hand over his gut, for Shayne to make a sarcastic or defensive remark.

“Yes?” Shayne said quietly. “Where are your parents? When are they coming back?”

“Sunday.” Charlie’s face contorted with pain. His insides felt like they’d been thrown in a bag and beaten against a wall before being shoved back into him. “They’re on a work kind of thing. Shayne, my – my stomach is killing me.”

As though to make that particular point clear, his belly let out a long, wet-sounding grumble. Charlie jumped a little in surprise when he felt the back of Shayne’s hand glide across his stomach through the sheet.

“It’s definitely not your biggest fan right now.” Shayne frowned. “What’d you do? Pick up a bug or something?”

Charlie gave a sigh, Shayne’s light touches sending cool shivers down through his aching tummy. He had to stifle a yawn. “Yeah, I guess. Hey, that feels really nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know…” Charlie peered out over the sheet, hoping that and the dim light would disguise how red his face felt. “Bet you’re tired too, after being at school all day, and worrying about me so much.”

Shayne rolled his eyes slightly. “And? If I was?”

Charlie wriggled forward slightly, freeing up a little more space between his back and the wall. He shut his eyes as Shayne climbed into bed with him, scooping him gently by the waist and dragging his fingertips up under Charlie’s pyjama top. Charlie didn’t stay awake long enough to hear Shayne asking if he was comfortable.

 ---

He woke with a gasp this time, pulled from that phantom cave by a sharp wrenching sensation in his abdomen. It was like an anchor had been dropped down his throat and immediately yanked up again. He shot forward in bed, feeling nausea crawl up his oesophagus, clamping his hands over his mouth.

“Here – go ahead, it’s okay.”

Charlie let liquid vomit gush from his mouth as his belly cramped and heaved. It drew out the most guttural sound and made his eyes water. He almost fell back with the force of it, but someone was holding him up, pushing gently on his back with one hand, holding the big mixing bowl under his chin with the other. 

He grabbed his mouth again as he hiccupped, pain shooting from his belly into his chest. Shayne rubbed Charlie’s back, eliciting another, but not so violent, stream of vomit to crash into the mixing bowl. Stars flashed across Charlie’s eyes, making the entire room spin. He pawed at the mattress as he lay himself back down.

Shayne reached over to put the bowl on the nightstand. He put his free hand gently on Charlie’s belly so that he wouldn’t accidentally press on it. Once he began settling back down next to him, Charlie kept Shayne’s hand pinned to his stomach and rolled onto his side.

“It hurts, Shayne,” Charlie groaned. “I hate this.”

“I know, I know.” Shayne’s voice was shaking. He could feel Charlie’s stomach gurgling away beneath his palm. Heat was pulsing out of him, but Shayne didn’t know the first thing about fixing that besides throwing back the sheets, which he’d already done. “Charlie, are you sure you can’t get your parents to come back early?”

“I’ll be fine. They –” Charlie whimpered as a roll of nausea made his insides whirl. “They’re looking at prop–”

Shayne made a grab for the bowl and held it to the edge of the bed as Charlie puked again, still lying on his side this time and almost toppling off the mattress. His whole body was racked with the force of the convulsions, and he was letting out pained little whines in between gags.

“Properties?” Shayne breathed, not entirely sure he wanted to press poor Charlie in his current state, but unable to stop himself either.

“Mmhmm,” Charlie mumbled, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his pyjama top and slumping back against Shayne.

“You moving away again?”

Charlie looked up into his friend’s brown eyes, hollow and deep in the early evening darkness of the room. Part of him was relieved to see a hint of sadness there, which was a horrible thought to have. Charlie closed his own eyes as tears welled up, though he wasn’t sure if it was the possibility of having to leave, or the twisting, writhing pain in his stomach that had caused them.

“I don’t – I don’t know…”

He reached for the bowl again, pulling it and Shayne’s hand closer to his face.

“Sorry,” Shayne muttered. “Take your time.”

Charlie winced as what felt like the last scrap of his stomach lining tore its way up his throat. A deep choking sound accompanied the final retch, like every droplet of moisture had evaporated from inside him and he was now a rattling bag of dry things.

“I’ll get you some water, okay?” Shayne climbed down towards the end of the bed, walked towards the door, and turned around again. “I mean, unless there’s something – is there something else I should be doing? If I give you food or medicine, you’ll just throw it up, right? You’ll probably throw the water up again, too. Fuck, how do I know when to call an ambulance?”

Charlie sighed weakly against his pillow as Shayne’s silhouette moved back and forth. “Shayne, you’re panicking.”

“What?” Shayne abruptly stopped pacing the room. “No. No, I’m not. Just – don’t die or anything, alright? I’ll be back in a minute.”

Charlie’s head swam as he waited in the dark. Shayne was so quiet downstairs that he almost imagined he was alone in the house. Alone in a dark cave. Alone in a world where he didn’t belong –

You’re not alone, he remembered. We’re not alone.

Charlie opened his eyes to see Shayne kneeling by the bed with a glass of water. He pushed himself up on his elbow slightly as the glass was tilted against his lips, wetting his tongue and cutting through some of the stale taste of vomit.

“Maybe that’s enough for –?” Shayne started to say, but Charlie kept sipping until his belly glugged in protest. The water felt like it hit boiling point the moment it got inside him, but he was so thirsty, he couldn’t make himself stop. Shayne had to pry the glass away, leaving it on the nightstand next to Vincent the teddy bear.

Charlie swallowed, feeling the water slosh against his diaphragm. He slowly sat further forward to find that Shayne already had the bowl in place for him. He’d washed it out when he’d gone downstairs, it seemed. Charlie breathed deeply a couple of times, holding his belly, but nothing escaped up his throat like he’d expected. His stomach groaned as it fought against itself, and Charlie finally let out a sigh from between pursed lips.

“I think I’m good, for – for now.” He lay back down, relieved but not yet fully trusting himself not to puke again. His eyelids fluttered as he watched Shayne put the bowl away again, still kneeling on the floor as he rested his head on the edge of the mattress.

“You have to go,” Charlie whimpered, eyes darting briefly towards the window that he’d once seen smashed in by a giant creature with bat’s wings. A creature he’d seen so many times again, in his nightmares. He felt his eyes start to tear up. “I don’t want you to get – to get in trouble, or hurt again –”

“Charlie, shut up,” Shayne spoke gently over him. “Just tell me what you need. Tell me what to do. Please. I – I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m –”

“Shayne,” Charlie said gently, though his voice felt slightly detached from his thoughts. “Shut up.”

Shayne looked down at the floor for a few seconds before getting up and climbing back onto the bed. Neither of them knew how to bring up the subject of Charlie’s parents buying a new house again, and as he fell into a shallow sleep for the twelfth - and not the last - time that day, Charlie wondered if Shayne was holding him just a bit tighter for it.

[i-am-out-of-my-vulcan-mind]

In Sickness and In Hell

Here’s my next multi chapter fic. I’m really putting poor Jane through the wringer at the moment aren’t I? I’m so mean…

Anyway thank you so much to @lurkingwhump for listening to me drone on about this fic. I truly wouldn’t be able to get anything done if it wasn’t for you <3

Just going to put a bit of a TW in with this. This is for my @badthingshappenbingo prompt “stomach flu” so if you're squeamish don't read ahead.

Jane lay beside her husband, rubbing him softly on his back while he slept. The last eight hours had been hell. She had woken up the night before, only to find Kurt's side of the bed empty.

When she had finally found him, he had been huddled over the toilet retching his guts up.

“I'm ok… go back to bed.” he had said, and Jane had shook her head, falling to her knees beside him.

She had stayed with him on the bathroom floor all night, taking turns between rubbing his back as he was violently ill, and wringing out the washcloth she had placed on the back of his neck.

He had protested, albeit weakly, stating he didn't want her to get sick. She had only shook her head, stating that their vows had said in sickness and in health.

Four hours later, he had finally managed to keep ginger ale down, and Jane had convinced him to move to the bedroom where he would be more comfortable.

She had placed a bucket on the floor beside him, and put a fresh glass of water on his bedside table.

He had fallen asleep quickly, completely drained from his visit with the porcelain God.

**************************************************

Kurt woke some time later, groaning when he tried to roll over.

“How are you feeling?” Jane asked, placing the back of her hand on his forehead.

“Like I've been hit by a truck.” he muttered into the pillow.

Jane smiled, rubbing his shoulder.

“Your fever has broken at least.” she said.

“And I don't feel like I'm going to throw up any time soon.” Kurt continued.

Jane leant forward, kissing him on the forehead.

“I'll get you some Gatorade.” she said, making her way to the kitchen. She returned, helping him sit back against the pillows.

He took the drink off of her, taking a tentative sip. He breathed a sigh of relief, when it hit his stomach, then settled.

“Keep sipping at that.” Jane said. “I'm gonna go make the couch up so we can watch something if you like?”

Kurt smiled. She knew he hated being in bed during the day, whether he was sick or not.

She moved back to the bedroom, helping him out of bed and onto the couch. He was weak, completely spent from the virus he was still trying to fight off. She got him comfortable, before returning to the bedroom to grab the Gatorade and the bucket from the side of the bed.

It was Easter weekend, so they had the next three days off, and Jane was secretly relieved, knowing she would have hated to leave him like this.

****************************************************

They spent the majority of the next day, tangled together on the couch, secretly relishing in the fact that no one wanted to disturb them because they knew Kurt was sick.

Late in the afternoon, Jane was starting to feel a little unwell herself. She shrugged, turning back to the movie, thinking she was probably just worn out. This was the first time in a long time, they had actually spent a couple of days doing nothing. Her body was probably just unsettled because she had finally ‘stopped.’

Another twenty minutes passed, and her stomach was growing notably more upset. She held her breath, trying to ignore the cramps that were starting to rip their way through her system.

“You ok?” Kurt asked, noticing her grimace of pain.

“I'm not sure.” she replied, bringing her hand up to cover her stomach. She exhaled slowly, trying to quell the torment within.

She tensed, as she rode out another wave of pain, a low rumble settling deep in her belly.

“Oh, I think I'm about to be very unwell.” she groaned scrambling to her feet, making a beeline for the bathroom.

Kurt let her go, wanting to give her a little privacy if her stomach revolted at the other end.

A short while later, Jane exited the bathroom, looking pale and miserable.

“You ok?” Kurt asked her again from the kitchen, knowing she probably felt as wretched as she looked.

She shook her head, a defeated smile playing on her lips.

“I think I've caught your bug.” she groaned miserably, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

“Oh Jane. I'm sorry.” Kurt apologized offering her a glass of ginger ale.

“Don't be.” she said smiling softly. “You told me to keep away and I didnt listen. I knew the risk.” She accepted the ginger ale, taking a tentative sip. “Why do you only get the vomiting though?” she complained, trying to make the situation a little more lighthearted.

Kurt just smiled softly in sympathy, walking around the counter and cupping the side of her head in his hand.

“Guess my body is just stronger than yours.” he said, trying to get a rise out of her.

It worked. She smacked him on the shoulder, before he grabbed her hands and held them to his chest.

“Now now.” he stated.

Jane rolled her eyes, noticing how pale he had become again.

“Why don't you go and sit down?” she suggested. Stronger or not, he was still recovering himself.

Kurt nodded, swallowing thickly.

“Join me?”

Her stomach gurgled loudly. She winced, bringing her hand to clutch at her abdomen as another cramp hit. Kurt place his hand on her shoulder, hoping to give a little comfort as her insides rebelled against her.

She groaned in discomfort, before her eyes widened.

“I think that's me again.” she muttered, heading back towards the bathroom.  

Kurt sighed, staring after Jane. He knew how unwell he had been - and he had only been vomiting. He would take that any day if his wife didn't have to suffer the same fate.

The sound of retching filled the apartment. Frowning, Kurt made his way to the bathroom, knocking softly.

“Jane?” he asked tentatively.

“Don't come in.” she muttered. Kurt sighed, knowing she had started going at both ends.

“Let me know if you need anything.” he said through the door. Not expecting much of a reply, he made his way back to the couch, waiting for his wife to reemerge. He knew she wanted a little privacy, but he would be there if she needed him.

**********************************************

Kurt opened his eyes drowsily. He must have nodded off. He looked at his watch, noticing that a couple of hours had passed. Sitting up, he realised Jane was still missing.

“Damn.” he muttered, getting to his feet and making his way to the bathroom.

“You ok in there?” he asked through the door.

When all he received in response was a weak groan, he opened the door slowly.

“Oh Jane.” he sighed, moving into the bathroom. She was leant over the toilet, her head resting on her arm, eyes closed in exhaustion. She had stripped down to her singlet and had managed to throw her hair into a small bun.

He knelt beside her, rubbing between her shoulder blades gently.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you off the floor.”

Jane shook her head.

“Not ready.” she grunted out, her arm wrapping around her belly protectively.

“Ok, ok.” he said, turning to grab a washcloth from under the sink. He wet it with cool water and wrung it out, placing it on the back of her neck, just like she had done for him a couple of nights before.

She groaned into the toilet bowl as her stomach churned. Before she knew it, she was vomiting  again, heaving up what little was left in her system. Kurt rubbed her back, wishing he could switch places with her.

She panted heavily when she had finally got herself back under control, whimpering at the pain in her abdomen.

“Here.” he said softly, offering her a glass of water.

Jane took a sip, and then lay exhaustively against Kurt. He kissed her softly on her forehead, frowning slightly at the burning of her skin.

“Ready to go to bed now?” he asked, wanting her to be more comfortable. She nodded in response, not quite sure if she could trust her voice. He stood, bringing her up with him. She groaned, swaying against the dizziness that assaulted her at the change of equilibrium. “Easy.” he murmured, steadying her against his chest.

He guided her to their bedroom, helping her under the covers. Moving to the living room, he grabbed the bucket she had set aside for him earlier, knowing he was no longer at risk of needing it. He also poured her a fresh glass of ginger ale - she needed to start rehydrating sooner rather than later.

When he returned to the bedroom, he sighed at what greeted him. She was curled on her side, her knees brought up to her chest, pain etched into the features of her face. He sat down beside her, rubbing her shoulder softly.

“Something’s not right, Kurt.” she whispered, hugging her arms to her stomach. “You didn’t get cramps this bad.”

Kurt frowned.

“Do you want me to call the doctor?” he asked. Jane wasn’t usually one to complain about pain.

She shook her head.

“Not yet…” she ground out. “It’s probably just a twenty-four hour bug like yours was. It’s just hitting me harder is all.”

“Alright.” he said softly. “You tell me if it gets any worse though.” he added, his concern growing by the moment.

Jane didn't reply. She just shifted, rubbing her stomach uncomfortably.

“Do you think you could try drink a little for me?” he asked, brushing the bangs off her burning forehead.

Jane swallowed thickly. The thought of ingesting anything making her feel nauseated. But she knew she needed to keep her fluid levels up, if she wanted to have any chance of getting over this.

She nodded softly, and Kurt helped her sit up. He winced with her, seeing the pain flash across her face from the change in position.

He grabbed the glass off the nightstand and passed it to her. She reached out with shaky hands, sipping slowly.

Not five minutes after she had managed to drain half of the glass, her eyes grew wide, before squeezing shut. She swallowed convulsively, exhaling slowly.

“You going to be sick again?” Kurt asked knowingly, already reaching for the bucket on the floor. When he didn't receive a response, he helped her sit, rubbing her back as she breathed heavily into the bucket, willing the nausea to just stop.

She lost the battle within seconds, bringing up the ginger ale she had just consumed. Kurt's heart broke, watching her crying out at the pain in her stomach. He was starting to agree that something was definitely wrong. He had been sick, but Jane was right in saying that he never experienced stomach pain as debilitating as she was.

When she was done, he helped her lay back against the pillows, too exhausted to do anything, but try and breathe through the pain. He took the bucket to the bathroom, washing it out, before returning to her. He placed the bucket back on the ground and put a cold washcloth on her forehead.

“You ok for a minute?” he asked.

Jane just nodded softly in reply, hugging her knees back to her chest.

Kurt left the bedroom, looking through his contact list and calling their family doctor.

He told him of Jane's symptoms, and the doctor agreed that they sounded more severe than just a normal stomach bug. He told Kurt he would be over within the next hour.

Kurt disconnected the call and made his way back to the bedroom, where his wife was lying in the exact position he had left her. He sat down beside her, turning the washcloth over so the cooler side was on her skin.

“I called the doctor.” he confessed.

Jane frowned.

“Why? I thought we decided I had just got the worse end of your bug?”

Kurt shook his head.

“The doctor agrees that this is more than a typical stomach bug.” he said, rubbing her arm softly. “The sickness aside, the pain you’re experiencing isn’t normal.”

Jane frowned again, choosing not to answer. She was sick of doctors.

“Also I’m a little worried because you can’t keep anything down.” Kurt continued. “I would just feel a bit better if you were checked out.”

Jane sighed, then winced, riding out another wave of pain.

“Oh Jane…” he sighed, hating to see her in this level of discomfort.  “Do you want to try the wheatsack?”

She nodded and Kurt moved off to the kitchen, relieved that he was able to do something to try and make her feel a bit better.

When the wheatsack was heated, he returned to the bedroom, lying down on the bed behind her. He wrapped her in his arms, holding the wheatsack to her stomach, rubbing her back gently with his free hand. She wrapped her arms around the wheatsack, hugging his hand to her middle.

Eventually, in the safety of her husband's arms, the exhaustion overcame the pain and Jane fell into a fitful sleep. Kurt lay with her, still rubbing her back softly, waiting for the doctor to arrive.

[sickjoonie]

since yoongi gets stress tummy aches and pukes from anxiety maybe you can write on thay?

everything was fine, perfectly fine, absolutely nothing was going wrong.

and by nothing yoongi meant absolutely everything. everything had gone to shit.

they had gotten out of a meeting with their managers over the songs for the next list. to say it went poorly would be like saying that a person with a knife wound was only bleeding a little bit. there had been yelling, it had been ugly, and everyone was a little rattled from it.

apparently they were a month behind schedule which was just lovely, absolutely fantastic, yoongi thought. one of the producers made passive aggressive comments towards yoongi the entire time and if it hadn’t been for namjoon, yoongi wouldn’t have been able to be responsible for himself.

the cherry on top of the cake was jungkook snapping at him afterwards. obviously, the younger was stressed out as well, never taking yelling very well. that’s why yoongi choose to say nothing. he kept his emotions to himself, allowing them to wrestle with his insides.

it wasn’t any surprise to him when a dull ache settled in his stomach on the way back to their dorm. the amount of pressure and stress that laid on him had manifested physically in the form of a stomach ache. yoongi was familiar to it happening. the only solution was to do something relaxing self care then sleep it off.

but there was so much yoongi needed to do right now, he didn’t have time for something like that.

it was no surprise to anyone that yoongi headed right to his studio once they got to their dorm and promptly locked himself in. everyone was too on edge to try to confront him, so they let him be.

hours passed and yoongi drowned himself in his work, ignoring the ache in his stomach. he managed to get a significant amount of work done, pushing himself into the early hours of the morning. his stomach had felt uneasy the entire time.

it was around three in the morning that he finally stumbled to bed, passing out without even bothering to change his clothes. so much for self care.

-

“yoongi hyung, are you feeling okay?”

it had been a couple of days since the first initial stomach ache and over time, both the pain and the stress had gotten worse.

today’s schedule was a long photoshoot. they had gotten up way too early for yoongi’s comfort, scarfed down some breakfast, and driven to the location. from the moment yoongi had woken up, his stomach had been cramping.

a few hours into the photoshoot and yoongi was beginning to feel queasy.

there had been issues with the wardrobe, one of the main staff members showed up late, and everyone seemed to be in a bad mood. the pressure to get started and wrap up before the end of the day weighed down on all of them.

at the moment, yoongi had taken to curling up on the couch behind the scenes, an arm across his stomach. his eyes were closed as he breathed through the nausea.

it was hoseok who found him first.

yoongi opened up his eyes, seeing hoseok standing over him with a frown. hoseok always had an unnerving sense of when someone wasn’t feeling good or was hurt. yoongi had seen it before.

“i’m fine, just tired,” yoongi grumbled. “too early, not enough coffee.”

hoseok rolled his eyes. “you and your coffee.” he sat down next to yoongi, laying an arm behind his shoulders. “here, you can nap on me while we wait.”

yoongi thought about it. it did seem like it’d be more than a hot minute before everything would get going, and hoseok’s chest did look really inviting.

yoongi caved in. he leaned into hoseok’s chest, sighing as he felt himself melt to hoseok’s warmth. hoseok’s arms wrapped around him softly, one of his hands rubbing his back. it was the kind of comfort yoongi craved, especially with his upset stomach.

yoongi dozed off, the pain temporarily disappearing. hoseok knew how exhausted yoongi was. he suspected there was something more to it, though he didn’t dare ask.

when yoongi woke up, everything he had been experiencing the past week came down full force. his stomach growled and cramped, making yoongi’s entire body tense up. the nausea was ten times worse, rolling in a way that yoongi knew he needed to get to a bathroom fast.

yoongi started hoseok by bolting upwards and speed walking out of the room, a hand clasped to his mouth. hoseok quickly got up and started following behind him.

yoongi pushed past staff members, eyeing the bathroom down the hall. he slammed the door open, staggering over to the first stall. as soon as he pushed past the door, he fell to his knees and gagged loudly over the toilet.

yoongi tensed as his stomach cramped, his body curling inwards. he grabbed his stomach and his face grimaced. it was unbearably painful.

he heard someone walk in and cross the bathroom to his stall. soon after, a hand rested on his back.

yoongi felt his stomach seize up and he lurched forward, vomiting into the toilet bowl. he was left gasping for breath, only for his stomach to once again gurgle and lurch and force another round of vomiting on him.

“that’s it, that’s it,” hoseok murmered, his voice unlike its normal hyperness, “just get it all out.”

yoongi coughed once the round was finished wrecking him. his stomach slowly settled. he felt better now that he had vomited, as if his body had rid itself of the anxiety through physical means. though yoongi had a suspicion the ache would return later when the photoshoot starts.

he leaned back and found himself being pulled into a chest by warm arms. he let himself go, his body sagging drastically against hoseok. he weakly clutched onto hoseok’s shirt, needing to ground himself.

“i’m...i’m okay,” yoongi reassured.

“hyung, you spent the last few minutes vomiting your guts out. i don’t think that counts as okay.”

yoongi sighed. “i’m not sick, it’s the stress of everything is upsetting my stomach. i haven’t had time to relax.”

hoseok frowned. if it was to the point of vomiting, the stress had to be bad. “it’s been an awful week, hasn’t it?”

yoongi nodded. he felt so, so tired and sick. all he wanted to do was rest without the impending doom of deadlines or pressure from his peers.

hoseok petted his hair, thinking. “let me take care of you, after this photoshoot. we can’t get out of it, so the least i can do is help you recover afterwards.”

yoongi couldn’t even argue. he was desperate for some relief. “please, hoseok ah.”

hoseok’s heart broke hearing how desperate yoongi sounded. “i promise, i’ll do anything to help you feel better.”

-

hoseok had it all planned out by the time the photoshoot was done. he had watched yoongi closely the entire time, seeing how the stress weighed him down.

hoseok was going to fix that.

once they got back to the dorm, hoseok set to making yoongi some dinner. he choose a simple dish, but one that he knew yoongi liked.

he tracked down yoongi, who was laying in the bed, and smiled. “hyung, i made you dinner.”

yoongi seemed a bit taken back. “what?”

hoseok sighed. “i promised i would take care of you, yoongi hyung, so this is me taking care of you. now come on, you don’t want it getting cold.”

yoongi slowly processed this. finally, he stood up and let hoseok lead him out of the room to the kitchen table. sure enough, food was set out for the both of them. yoongi felt his stomach rumble in anticipation; it was the first sign of an appetite he had had all week.

after the first bite, he eagerly dug in, his appetite coming back full force. soon enough, his plate was empty and he was pleasantly full.

hoseok was done with him yet. once he finished cleaning up the dishes, he dragged yoongi to the bathroom for a bath, completed with scented candles and hoseok washing yoongi’s hair. hoseok knew what he was doing with the way he scratched at some areas and massaged the scalp. yoongi could feel himself automatically relaxing from the pleasant sensation and warm water.

hoseok was always so eager to care for the other members, especially yoongi. it was his motherly nature and desire to see others happy. the thought of it warmed yoongi’s insides and made his stomach feel fluttery. any cold front yoongi might put up melted away at the sight of hoseok.

he even let hoseok dress him in his pajamas. okay so, he might be a little whipped for him.

hoseok joined him in his bed, cuddling up to yoongi and pressing kisses to his forehead and hair. yoongi felt warm, full, and completely cared for. it was easy to fall asleep, his stomach ache having long since left him.

the last thought yoongi had was the promise to return the favor sometime for hoseok.

[kisstheburnsaway]

When Your White Count’s Getting Higher

Original post: HERE  (also there’s this HERE (and it’s gonna get a follow-up one of these days))

Anonymous asked: You think you could do a short story about what happened to Hancock right after he took the radiation drug? (Like what do you think that felt like? Do you think it involved a lot of puking? Do you think it was before or after he became mayor? Do you think at some point Hancock thought he was gonna die?) All I've gotta say is I figure ghoulification is very unpleasant and painful as all hell.

[[Just to be clear, this is based on my own monsterpost about ghoulification from a bit ago + our talks with Bagel where we were figuring out Hancock’s timeline and figured his change “to become a better man” must’ve happened all at once. Personally, I kinda don’t see Hancock becoming mayor and THEN changing into a ghoul and people just being okay with it, especially since this process would have to take two weeks minimum. It must’ve been before he overthrew Vic, but we also know he was human when he was a drifter… so that leaves only one moment in his life when this could’ve happened.]] [[And no, I don’t think he thought he was gonna die. I think he HOPED he was gonna die.]] [[But to everything else I say: yes, yes, and YES. And “enjoy” ;)]]

[[PS. And what do you mean, ‘a short story’? What is this combination of words I’ve never seen before??]]

John brushed his blonde hair away from his face, leaning on his knees over the pill he rolled about in his hands. He wiped his tear-stained face with his sleeve. The image of Tom’s head split open on the sidewalk was still freshly seared in his mind, and John could see it every time he closed his eyes. Tom wasn’t his friend. They didn’t even like each other. But no one deserved such a fate. John remembered how he’d moved towards the body, for no reason he could think of, only to stop when one of Vic’s goons, a walking monster truck called Brett, of all names, had aimed at him with his submachine gun. “Whatcha gon’ do, McDonough?” he’d said mockingly, laughing when John had taken a step back, gritting his teeth. There really was nothing he could do, was there? Just like before. Just like always. There was nothing he could do. Or, he did everything he could. Or was it just something he was telling himself to be able to sleep at night? He stifled a sob as another wave of tears flowed down his face. He wasn’t even a man anymore. He was… next to nothing. Might as well, right? The pill was round and pretty big, a perfect sphere in all regards except for one small indentation probably marking the spot where it would start… John didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to escape the promenade of mistakes that his life was. The image of brains on cement. The bloody body parts scattered in the ruins. He exhaled sharply and swallowed the pill before he could change his mind, washing it down with a bottle of vodka as it made an impossible amount of stops down his oesophagus. Well. It’s done. No taking it back now. All he could do now was wa… The pain began so abruptly it caught him completely unprepared. He doubled down, digging his fingers into his abdomen as it pierced through him, this debilitating power tearing at him from within. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even scream as the pain spread to every part of his body, seemingly even to his bones… and then suddenly let go and diminished into nothing but odd discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

John pulled himself from the ground and sat back on the crate between one display and another in the Old State House storeroom. He could hear steps over his head, guards shifting places, completely unaware that he’d snuck in here just to fuck with them. Just because Vic said he wasn’t supposed to. And Vic was just two floors up, he thought to himself. Every fiber of John’s being wanted only to get his hands on a gun, go up there, and shoot that fucking bastard in the face. See HIS brains on the sidewalk. But that wasn’t going to happen, was it? He gulped what was left of the vodka all at once–and in another minute, he was on all fours giving it all back to the floor. He cursed and grabbed some tarp to clean it up. Oh, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Fuck. It was hard enough to get in here under Vic’s guards’ noses; the last thing he needed was to alert them to his presence by gurgling his guts out and screaming in pain. Yet, somehow, through the mind-clouding nausea and head-splitting headache, he knew it was only going to get worse.

While he still could stand up and move around a little, he slid some display cases in to barricade the door. The last thing he needed was to be found out by someone while… Another wave of nausea sent him to his knees. He quickly latched on to a steel bucket he found in the corner, and when he raised his head, he could see there was blood mixed in with the vomit. Fuck. He could feel it pooling in his mouth, filling it with the taste of iron and… rot? Fuck. He spat it out into the bucket. Then, fever hit. His strength was diminishing fast; soon, it was an exorbitant effort to even turn to the other side as he lay on the tarp on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chin like that was supposed to help with the cramps. Ohh, he was never going to tell another woman she was overreacting. This was karma punishing his ignorance, he was sure of it. And boy, did he deserve it on so many levels. Could he just die yet? He didn’t know how long he lay there–hours? days? weeks?–shivering, no, shaking, really, barely able to breathe, pain clawing at his body as he yearned for the end… His mind barely holding on, and yet still insanely clear. It was like living through every pain of his entire life… and surviving. If he could, he would’ve shot himself in the head right now, just to stop the pain, just to finally rid the world of himself; but also, there was something there… pulling on his consciousness like a child tugging at their mother’s skirt as his brother played nearby… something that wanted him to live. Something that stroked his head and said it would all be… just fine. But how could it? Heart pounding like crazy… Fighting for every breath… like living underwater… Water… Holy fuck, he was so thirsty… Everything was pain. Burning… Even through the haze he could feel his skin… falling off. Every move hurt more than the last, but… was he even moving? Or was he swimming? What was that?… Green skies?… A child…? What…?

When he awoke, he immediately retched out a dark, thick puddle of whatever was left of his stomach, apparently. Everything was… blurry and dark… Ugh, he still wasn’t fully there. Where was he, actually? Old State House? But… Fuck, he was so out of it. Even the worst trips he’d ever had were never this… Never like this. The pain was mostly gone now, though. At least that. John pulled himself from the tarp and saw his silhouette still perfectly painted on it in what looked like watered-down blood and… pieces of him. His hair was spread like an aureola around the place where his head just lay. John wiped his face and nearly jumped out of his skin when he pulled off a good part off his nose straight off his head. He dropped in on the tarp. “What the actual fuck?” he mumbled. That was not how he expected this to go. As he pulled himself up on shaky arms, he suddenly felt how insanely hungry he was. Thankfully, he brought some food with him when he was coming down here, though tatoes were no longer an option. At least… Holy shit. His gaze fell on his blurry reflection in one of the cleaner display cases and John couldn’t help but stare at how much had changed. There was a bony ridge jutting out from where he’d just pulled his nose off. His eyes were pitch black. Every bit of hair he ever had was gone. He couldn’t help but check, but yeah, down there, too. Geez, he should grow up. For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of that reflection. It still seemed surreal. But then, the world around still felt surreal, too. Was it really him? Did he really…? He stared at his hands, covered in scars and red burns. Hissed, pulling off some fingernails that still held on, even though crooked and clearly dead. God… What has he done to himself? He fell back to his knees. His heart was pounding as he buried his face in his hands. It wasn’t supposed to be like this… This was supposed to fix him… or kill him. He was supposed to be dead. He didn’t deserve to live anyway, not after everything that had…

A shiver went through him. There was a hand stroking his head. He looked up and his black gaze fell into his mother’s warm, gray eyes. “It’ll all be fine,” she said with a comforting smile. “I still love you, baby, even if you’re someone else. It wasn’t your fault. None of it.” Then John blinked and she was gone, and for a second, he felt debilitatingly alone. But he wasn’t, was he? He wasn’t the only disembodied, homeless bastard in this town, in this world. But they were all huddled up, beaten down. Even though all it would take was for one single person to just… get up. And if there was anything John ever did wrong, it was waiting for someone else to get up first. It was right there in front of him the entire time. ‘John Hancock’ written in faded, fancy letters above that silly outfit he’d laughed at before… all this. Before John Hancock. Might as well, right?

> Epilogue: “Hi, Timmy, and thanks for the help,” he said to the drunk drifter he’d paid to keep an eye out for the guards when he’d been sneaking in. “Huuh?” Timmy replied, eyeing him mistrustfully. “Who the fuck are you? Where’s McDonough?” “He’s gone,” John replied, reveling in what he was about to say. “I’m John Hancock now. And don’t worry, pal…” He patted his shoulder. “…I’m gonna fight for us.”

[atombombbagel]

You think you could do a short story about what happened to Hancock right after he took the radiation drug? (Like what do you think that felt like? Do you think it involved a lot of puking? Do you think it was before or after he became mayor? Do you think at some point Hancock thought he was gonna die?) All I've gotta say is I figure ghoulification is very unpleasant and painful as all hell.

written by @fantomofthehiddles, because they are so much better at explaining this stuff than I am 

[[Just to be clear, this is based on my own monsterpost about ghoulification from a bit ago + our talks with Bagel where we were figuring out Hancock’s timeline and figured his change “to become a better man” must’ve happened all at once. Personally, I kinda don’t see Hancock becoming mayor and THEN changing into a ghoul and people just being okay with it, especially since this process would have to take two weeks minimum. It must’ve been before he overthrew Vic, but we also know he was human when he was a drifter… so that leaves only one moment in his life when this could’ve happened.]][[And no, I don’t think he thought he was gonna die. I think he HOPED he was gonna die.]][[But to everything else I say: yes, yes, and YES. And “enjoy” ;)]]

[[PS. And what do you mean, ‘a short story’? What is this combination of words I’ve never seen before??]]

John brushed his blonde hair away from his face, leaning on his knees over the pill he rolled about in his hands. He wiped his tear-stained face with his sleeve. The image of Tom’s head split open on the sidewalk was still freshly seared in his mind, and John could see it every time he closed his eyes. Tom wasn’t his friend. They didn’t even like each other. But no one deserved such a fate. John remembered how he’d moved towards the body, for no reason he could think of, only to stop when one of Vic’s goons, a walking monster truck called Brett, of all names, had aimed at him with his submachine gun. “Whatcha gon’ do, McDonough?” he’d said mockingly, laughing when John did take a step back, gritting his teeth. There really was nothing he could do, was there? Just like before. Just like always. There was nothing he could do. Or, he did everything he could. Or was it just something he was telling himself to be able to sleep at night? He stifled a sob as another wave of tears flowed down his face. He wasn’t even a man anymore. He was… next to nothing.Might as well, right?The pill was round and pretty big, a perfect sphere in all regards except for one small indentation probably marking the spot where it would start… John didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to escape the promenade of mistakes that his life was. The image of brains on cement. The bloody body parts scattered in the ruins. He exhaled sharply and swallowed the pill before he could change his mind, washing it down with a bottle of vodka as it made an impossible amount of stops down his oesophagus. Well. It’s done. No taking it back now. All he could do now was wa…The pain began so abruptly it caught him completely unprepared. He doubled down, digging his fingers into his abdomen as it pierced through him, this debilitating power tearing at him from within. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even scream as the pain spread to every part of his body, seemingly even to his bones… and then suddenly let go and diminished into nothing but odd discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

John pulled himself from the ground and sat back on the crate between one display and another in the Old State House storeroom. He could hear steps over his head, guards shifting places, completely unaware that he’d snuck in here just to fuck with them. Just because Vic said he wasn’t supposed to. And Vic was just two floors up, he thought to himself. Every fiber of John’s being wanted only to get his hands on a gun, go up there, and shoot that fucking bastard in the face. See HIS brains on the sidewalk. But that wasn’t going to happen, was it?He gulped what was left of the vodka all at once–and in another minute, he was on all fours giving it all back to the floor. He cursed and grabbed some tarp to clean it up. Oh, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Fuck. It was hard enough to get in here under Vic’s guards’ noses; the last thing he needed was to alert them to his presence by gurgling his guts out and screaming in pain. Yet, somehow, through the mind-clouding nausea and head-splitting headache, he knew it was only going to get worse.

While he still could stand up and move around a little, he slid some display cases in to barricade the door. The last thing he needed was to be found out by someone while… Another wave of nausea sent him to his knees. He quickly latched on to a steel bucket he found in the corner, and when he raised his head, he could see there was blood mixed in with the vomit. Fuck. He could feel it pooling in his mouth, filling it with the taste of iron and… rot? Fuck. He spat it out into the bucket.Then, fever hit. His strength was diminishing fast; soon, it was an exorbitant effort to even turn to the other side as he lay on the tarp on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chin like that was supposed to help with the cramps. Ohh, he was never going to tell another woman she was overreacting. This was karma punishing his ignorance, he was sure of it. And boy, did he deserve it on so many levels.Could he just die yet?He didn’t know how long he lay there–hours? days? weeks?–shivering, no, shaking, really, barely able to breathe, pain clawing at his body as he yearned for the end… His mind barely holding on, and yet still insanely clear. It was like living through every pain of his entire life… and surviving. If he could, he would’ve shot himself in the head right now, just to stop the pain, just to finally rid the world of himself; but also, there was something there… pulling on his consciousness like a child tugging at their mother’s skirt as his brother played nearby… something that wanted him to live. Something that stroked his head and said it would all be… just fine. But how could it? Heart pounding like crazy… Fighting for every breath… like living underwater… Water… Holy fuck, he was so thirsty… Everything was pain. Burning… Even through the haze he could feel his skin… falling off. Every move hurt more than the last, but… was he even moving? Or was he swimming? What was that?… Green skies?… A child…? What…?

When he awoke, he immediately retched out a dark, thick puddle of whatever was left of his stomach, apparently. Everything was… blurry and dark… Ugh, he still wasn’t fully there. Where was he, actually? Old State House? But… Fuck, he was so out of it. Even the worst trips he’d ever had were never this… Never like this. The pain was mostly gone now, though. At least that. John pulled himself from the tarp and saw his silhouette still perfectly painted on it in what looked like watered-down blood and… pieces of him. His hair was spread like an aureola around the place where his head just lay.John wiped his face and nearly jumped out of his skin when he pulled off a good part off his nose straight off his head. He dropped in on the tarp. “What the actual fuck?” he mumbled. That was not how he expected this to go. As he pulled himself up on shaky arms, he suddenly felt how insanely hungry he was. Thankfully, he brought some food with him when he was coming down here, though tatoes were no longer an option. At least… Holy shit.His gaze fell on his blurry reflection in one of the cleaner display cases and John couldn’t help but stare at how much had changed. There was a bony ridge jutting out from where he’d just pulled his nose off. His eyes were pitch black. Every bit of hair he ever had was gone. He couldn’t help but check, but yeah, down there, too. Geez, he should grow up.For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of that reflection. It still seemed surreal. But then, the world around still felt surreal, too. Was it really him? Did he really…? He stared at his hands, covered in scars and red burns. Hissed, pulling off some fingernails that still held on, even though crooked and clearly dead. God… What has he done to himself?He fell back to his knees. His heart was pounding as he buried his face in his hands. It wasn’t supposed to be like this… This was supposed to fix him… or kill him. He was supposed to be dead. He didn’t deserve to live anyway, not after everything that had…

A shiver went through him. There was a hand stroking his head. He looked up and his black gaze fell into his mother’s warm, gray eyes. “It’ll all be fine,” she said with a comforting smile. “I still love you, baby, even if you’re someone else. It wasn’t your fault. None of it.” Then John blinked and she was gone, and for a second, he felt debilitatingly alone. But he wasn’t, was he? He wasn’t the only disembodied, homeless bastard in this town, in this world. But they were all huddled up, beaten down. Even though all it would take was for one single person to just… get up. And if there was anything John ever did wrong, it was waiting for someone else to get up first.It was right there in front of him the entire time. 'John Hancock’ written in faded, fancy letters above that silly outfit he’d laughed at before… all this. Before John Hancock.Might as well, right?

> Epilogue:“Hi, Timmy, and thanks for the help,” he said to the drunk drifter he’d paid to keep an eye out for the guards when he’d been sneaking in.“Huuh?” Timmy replied, eyeing him mistrustfully. “Who the fuck are you? Where’s McDonough?”“He’s gone,” John replied, reveling in what he was about to say. “I’m John Hancock now. And don’t worry, pal…” He patted his shoulder. “…I’m gonna fight for us.”

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

Hi I hate to ask this but I've had the worst day of my life, a sprained ankle and then a car accident. It's been horribly rough. Could I get a small one shot Lucas fic of taking a liking to and comforting a found captive?

Don’t apologize for asking, Anon. That sounds like a terrible day. I hope you recover mentally, physically and financially very soon. Car accidents are terrible and a sprained ankle is rough. I hope this fic helps ease some of the crappy feels that today has given you. Much love for you on your road to recovery.

It started off with Lucas getting bored enough to watch all the VHS tapes he could salvage - ending up with a bundle of his Ma’s collection and nothing else to do. So, he sat around with his thumb up his ass and suffered through Beaches, Titanic and… some stupid Wayne Newton thing while eating bags of cheese puffs and peanuts.

By the end of Steel Magnolias, he felt like someone had ripped his balls off and sewn a pussy on him. All he could think about was cuddling and fawning over a girl of his own, and it made him nearly sick.

He sat around for another two days thinking about what it’d be like to have a girlfriend and jus’…hold hands. Hold hands?! Like he was some fuckin’ prepubescent brat. He wanted to fuck and cum balls deep in some hot cunt, not sit around and hold hands all day. But he did, and so he sat around with a blank TV and a heartache, not knowing what to do with himself.

On the third day of his self-inflicted misery, the ol’ man came in with two bodies.

“Morgue’s overrun, boy. I’m sticking these down in the stalls. They ain’t been fed yet so don’t you touch ‘em, ya here?!”

“Whatever,” he replied, not thinking twice about it cause on account of the goop his brain had become and got a nice crack in the back of his head with a baseball bat for his trouble.

After dear ol’ dad had taken down a charter bus full of shitheels lookin’ to spend the weekend in New Orleans for the big fuckin’ Mardi Gras parade, Lucas got stuck with two captives when the basement started overflowing with new arrivals. Two too many, he grumbled, hearing one of them start screamin’ after only two hours strapped up.

Ain’t nobody got time fer this, he thought.

He had other shit to do (he didn’t), and it wasn’t even like he could use ‘em for test subjects either so what good were they but an annoyance? They’d both been there since this morning, and it only took until now for Lucas to realize one of ‘em wasn’t screaming - hadn’t been since Daddy brought ‘em by.

Typically it wouldn’t peak his interest - the silence - but the last bitch he’d tossed in the rat’s nest had long since turned to bones, and he was bored. The tapes had made him weak at heart, and he couldn’t stand watching another one of his Ma’s sentimental tear fests.

Just the thought was making him wanna puke.

Lucas hunched over his desk, frowned and gave the little joystick a push to the right, panning camera nine over to the quiet one all tied up in one of the horse stalls.

A girl, Lucas noticed immediately. She was quiet, reserved and hadn’t moved much. Without much reason to, Lucas hadn’t gone down since they’d been brought in and secured to their posts. He hadn’t bothered to look at ‘em either since he wasn’t supposed to play with ‘em. Shoulda took a little trip down though, cause the chick looked kind of hot once he zoomed in a bit. Get rid of the blood and dirt, and she’d been the nicest lookin’ bitch to ever get past the gates.

“Ain’t it just peachy ah’ get stuck with a dumb whore in the barn…” he grumbled.  She looked like one too (not really), but guess that coulda’ been the fact that she’d been stripped down to her panties. At this angle, he couldn’t see her tits, but her back was bare, so she wasn’t wearing a bra or nothin’.

Shame - shame he didn’t have a good angle for a free viewing.

His Pa never said he couldn’t have himself a look-see. As long as he didn’t chuck her in the Birthday Room, who cared if he had a little fun? All he wanted was a look and maybe a hug or some snuggles - No! No, he just wanted to watch her heaving tits as he jerked off on the floor in front of her. He wanted to slip his dick between ‘em and… ugh…

Lucas wanted good night’s sleep with a warm body beside him, in all honesty. It got pretty lonely now that he was off the grid more or less - just enough connection established to contact his people and set up communication between all the cameras and speakers. No more porn to toss his rocks off to. No cam girls to watch while he fucked his fist, pretending it was a pussy. And now, worst of all, he’d brainwashed himself into wanting something more innocent than a good fuck. Maybe when the girl down in the barn passed out, he’d go lay next to her…

The girl down in the stall shifted, stretching a long pale leg across a bed of musty hay.

Shit! Where was his Polaroid at? Worse case scenario he’d snap a picture of her and lay in bed looking at it like a freak.

Four upturned boxes and a messy bed later, Lucas was loading up his ol’ polaroid camera with a dozen blanks, fingers shaking. He was only a bit ashamed of how low he was willing to go for some semblance of intimacy, but hell… he was desperate, and it was hard enough keeping his head clear as it was.

It was pretty pointless, but he rubbed his face clean of the blood from earlier and threw his door open. Lucas kicked his heels into the stairs, eyeing the molded that were hanging off the walls. They’re gaping jaws clicked open, swinging towards him jus’ enough to know it wasn’t some escapee running fer the hills. One of ‘em gurgled, gagged and puked up a messy wad of bones as Lucas passed it by.

Easily ignored, when his heart was busy jackhammering at the thought of this girl his Pa had brought in.

The girl was sitting in the stall, a chain wrapped around her waist, connecting her manacled wrists and branching out to the pole she was resting against. She didn’t have much wiggle room, but all in all, it wasn’t as bad as getting cramped into one o’ them dog crates.

She didn’t even bother lookin’ at him as his sneakers crunched over brittle hay, pausing outside the wooden gate. A fountain of pale hair hung down in front of her face, covering the tops of her tits.

“Hey-hey, come on, bitch! Wake up!” He snorted as she jerked but did little else. Only when he growled and gave the gate a hard kick did she swayed. A hint of perky nipple poked out of her thick hair as she lifted her head; blood-matted hair slipping out of her eyes. Blue eyes, like his own, looked up at him, gazing under wet lashes.

She was a hottie, and Lucas was struck half dumb for a good long minute jus’ looking at her.

“My leg’s broken,” she whispered. Pain made her voice throaty, ragged enough he found himself licking his lips, wondering if he should have brought her a soda or somethin’. He palmed his Polaroid, nodding to her with the tip of his chin.

“I’ll set it fer ya if ya give me a smile. I’ll even bring you upstairs and get ya somethin’ to eat. How about that? Sounds like ah sweet little deal, don’t it? Jus’ gotta say cheese!”

“It doesn’t and I won’t,” she said, leaning back against the wooden pole, exposing her bare tits through a curtain of dirty hair, uncaring.

Lucas popped himself a picture without obscuring his view with the shitty glass lens. All she did was blink at the flash and nothing more. No rebuttal, no tears or anything else he’d have expected. Hell, Lucas even had a running shower up there. How could she say no that kinda offer?

Slowly, checking the barn entrance with a narrowed look, he smashed the lock on the gate and swung it open. The noise or the implication made her stiffen over the hay bed. In her lap, she curled her fingers and closed her eyes. Dry, cracked lips, which probably looked pretty full and sexy when she wasn’t dehydrated, mouthed words… no, they mouthed numbers.

Lucas shoved his shoulder into the wooden post as he read her lips while she chanted math equations, solving for X and Y in some weird, brainy coping mechanism. Probably thought he was gonna rape her or somethin’. All the chicks that came through here thought he would…kinda got insulting after ah while.

“Ya forgot to carry the four, sweetheart…” he told her, watching as she ignored him, continuing despite her fuck up.

Kinda interesting. Usually, everyone just begged and screamed for someone to come rescue ‘em - like they were a princess in some wild fairy tale. This one accepted her fate, or at least what she thought was gonna happen, and did her best to prepare for it. Lucas liked that - respected it. And so he yanked the film from his camera, gave it a couples flaps until the badly lit sight of her with those cute tits came full color. He threw the picture at her, snorted when she kept on dividing and subtracting and left her there.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Lucas got itchy again.

All night he’d been watching her through the camera, ignoring the stupid asshat in the stall beside her as he screamed. It was hard to see through the snowy lenses, but Lucas was pretty sure she was still miming mathematics to herself. She didn’t sleep, at least not for more than half an hour maybe. Her unbroken leg would kick or stretch and once he saw her turn her head up towards the camera, staring at him.

“Come and do it already,” she’d say, making his gut churn sickly.

After his ol’ man had come in for the retard with the broken vocal chords, Lucas stuffed a bag of skittles in his pocket, grabbed a can of soda and hopped the stairs to see his adorable brainiac.

She was docile, only watching him, never begging, as he swung the gate open and stepped inside. The stall was narrow but spacious, but Lucas threw himself down beside her despite having enough room to host an orgy if he wanted. The girl tipped her head back and breathed deeply, ready for whatever she thought he was gonna do.

“Skittles?” he offered, shaking the packet near his jaw with a feral grin that made his cheeks ache. He’d forgotten how to smile, so a grin would have to do.

The barest touch of her tongue between her lips made Lucas swallow. In her lap he noticed her fingers twitch.

“…why?”

He didn’t need a reason, but he had one, ‘course he did. Lucas wasn’t gonna tell her, though, so he just shrugged and tore the corner off the packet, shaking a few into his palm. All he needed to do was stare at her hands fer a few seconds before she got the idea and offered her palms to him; shackles clinking. Bruises and bloody scabs ran like bracelets around her wrists.

He dropped a few sickly bright skittles into her palm and watched her wince, trying to put them in her mouth. If he weren’t so sure she’d bite his fingers off or curl her nose in disgust, he’d have fed them to her.

“So, ya like numbers, huh?” He waited for her to say something, but she merely sucked the Skittles in her mouth with half-closed eyes; savoring the sugar in silence.

“Me too,” he sighed, scooting a little closer to her until he just missed bumping her broken leg.

“My Pa said I was gifted when ah’ was younger. But hell! - Guess geniuses go crazy every damn day, huh? Jus’ another one with a bad brain.” It felt better talkin’ to someone that wasn’t Eveline…or imaginary like Oliver had been (sometimes still was). Even if she didn’t talk back, Lucas liked laying back in the barn with her. Nothin’ else better to do anyhow and it was the closest he dared to get to something resembling cuddles. Not that he wanted that… obviously.

“… can I have some more?” she asked, sounding so tiny and small that somethin’ in Lucas started to hurt. He looked up at her from the soft ground, saw how empty her eyes were - like a dead sea - and handed her the whole bag of skittles. The little, hopeless smile she gave him made his chest tighten like there was a hook buried in it.

The only thing that sucked about dosing himself with that serum was all the emotions he had coming back to him. That’s all it was. Could’ah done without ‘em, if he were honest, but the girl ate her candy through the pain, meeting her hands halfway down and somethin’ about giving her that little act of kindness made him wanna do more and more… and more.

For the next two days, he spent most of his time either telling himself not to go down and see her, or sitting with her in the barn, feeding her junk food, handing her bottles of water or talking to her (actually talking to himself, but that was neither here nor there).

Eventually, he went down to see her with a real goal in mind - not just trying to keep her alive. He brought the bolt cutters with him. The ol’ man wouldn’t sweat one little captive - not when he had dozens of ‘em fresh and ready to be hatched. If his Pa said anything, Lucas could just tell ‘im the molded got hungry and climbed the gate. Easy.

She withdrew at the sight of him with the cutters in hand, but still, she didn’t beg or scream. Lucas cut her chains without a word and tore her manacles off as easily as if they’d been clay. When he grabbed her around the waist, careful of the raw red skin where her chains had been, he felt her muscles tighten. Not one to take that shit personally, Lucas tried to smile but ended up grinning and slung her over his shoulder… only then did she scream. He could feel her tears soak through the back of his hoodie and her broken leg bang against his chest.

Lucas tried not to let the sounds of her agony bother him, but they did. Every step made him wince as she bawled her eyes out, shouting and begging him to stop - that it hurt 'it hurt so bad!’

In a few minutes, she’d be right as rain, but the pathetic, sloppy sounds still wedged their way under his skin somehow.

She sobbed when he set her down on his couch, fingers running along her broken thigh like fluttering leaves; listless. Pain lined her body - her face and brows. The lights above their heads highlight the heavy fall of tears that made Lucas feel guilty for some fucking reason. Not like he’d broken her leg…

He grumbled and left her there to her misery as he went to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of the good stuff for her and his last candy bar. Maybe she’d be more apt to forgive him if he showered her with sugar. Wouldn’t hurt, right? - And he was pretty desperate at that point.

When he returned, she was halfway across the floor, dragging herself towards the door. A long, scattered line of dark blood following her line a snail trail.

“Hahaaaa’ah shit, sweetheart. Where’d you think yur goin’? Ain’t nothing out there but moldy freaks with them teeth waitin’ fer ya,” he laughed at her, hamming it up as his gut pulled when she merely whimpered and pulled herself another few inches across the floor.

Badass, bitch. Smart and sturdy and cute… didn’t find many of those anymore. Not that Lucas would know really. He never did get out much before Evie showed up - didn’t do much talking to girls even before he was labeled the crazy head.

Lucas swallowed and knelt down beside her, pulling at her ankle. She howled, hissed and threw a fist into his face. Took him by surprise, but it was weak and barely did more than sting. He hadn’t meant to pull at the busted leg like that.

Didn’t matter, though. He was gonna fix her, and she could hit him all she wanted if it made her feel better, Lucas could take it even if she broke his jaw. He gave her a hard look and poured the bottle’s cool, slick contents over her thigh.

Those wet blues fluttered closed, as the shit took effect.

“… I can feel my bones snapping.”

Lucas grinned, biting his lip to keep most of the infectious glee inside until he could breathe it back down, “Yeah, how about that? Feelin’ pretty good by now I reckon.”

She twisted at the waist, running a hand over her healed thigh before giving him a calculating look, “I-I don’t understand.”

“Bout what?”

“Everything,” she whispered, pulling her legs in, laying an arm over her chest with a slight blush. Guess now that she wasn’t in so much pain she had enough sense to be embarrassed by her tits hanging free. Lucas liked lookin’ at ‘em, but that free fun was over. If he’d wanted to keep ogling her, he coulda just kept her in the horse stall. Naw, Lucas wanted her - wanted to hug her close and wash away the blood and dirty, pat the wounds dry and kiss them better. It was real fuckin’ sappy and stupid and yet he didn’t bother worrying about it now that her leg was healed.

“T-this,” she started, inhaling brutally as Lucas dared put a hand on his calf, “you can’t kill her, take her away from me like that - you can’t snap my fucking leg in half and throw me in some damn pig pen and… and… and feed me candy like some pet and now this?!”

Lucas frowned, feeling like someone had a knife stuck in his stomach, giving it a good wiggle with each seething word.  She shook and cried silent tears, staring heatedly at him while he sat there frozen, just wanting to wrap his arm around her.

As more grief poured outta her, her lips started to quiver like they were hooked up to car batteries, “That asshole h-he killed 'er and now you wanna… just do it already! Just do it!”

Her fists coiled and like a feral cat, she came at him, throwing a jab at his chest and another up into his chin.

Lucas hissed, grabbing at her wrists and pulled her up over his thighs, keeping her claws out of his eyes as she trembled and sobbed; leaking wet tears down into his lap. The only crying girl he’d helped was Zoe when they were teenagers when some cunt had called her fat during lunch. This was… Lucas tried to stop looking at her tits as they bounced while she cried - sought to halt the boner from growing between his legs as her hair tickled the back of his hands. Her eyes opened wide, stared up at him, and suddenly she collapsed into his chest; sniffling.

“Ain’t gonna rape ya…” he told her; pretty lame sounding in truth, but he wasn’t sure what to do with a crazy chick in his lap, curling her fingers around his sides… hugging him hatefully. Bitch was insane, but Lucas couldn’t ignore the warmth he felt as she held him around the middle, trying to suck some sort of comfort from him.

Lucas found himself wrapping his arms around her, holding her bare shoulders, rubbing her shivering, naked back as she whimpered into his chest. Shit circumstances and all, but Lucas loved every second of the contact. She was warm and soft…

“Shh… Hush, now,” he muttered, doing what his Mama used to do for him when he had nightmares… or scuffed up his knees on the stairs. The words just sorta came out without much thought to it, and before Lucas knew what was happenin’, he was whispering sweet nothings to this chick while she breathed easy against him. There on the floor, he held her, feeling her heart thud gently against his stomach.

It was the first real intimate contact he’d had since Eveline showed up, long before that even…and suddenly he couldn’t get enough of it. Lucas groaned, pulling her up and cradled her carefully in his lap. She only struggled for a second before sinking into his arms silently, breathing slow and gentle. Lucas inhaled the stale, blood tinged smell of her hair, found something sweet buried underneath the dirt and sighed.

“Thanks,” he muttered; lips on her scalp. Down beside his stomach, he felt a soft touch, like a thumb brushing the jut of his ribs and shuddered in pleasure.

If this was how good it felt to be held - to hold - and offer comfort then Lucas decided he wasn’t gonna let his Pa get this one. Lucas was gonna keep her safe and sound, and she wasn’t ever gonna feel pain again. If he had to kill ‘em all… he’d do it, just to keep her from cryin’ ever again.