#scrambling noises idfk

[aceisferal]

I like drawing the Princess Bride fit more because it’s easier so take these school doodles (ft. The tail and horns headcanon because i like to draw him with horns and a tail)

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 18

Masterpost

@sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lavmars @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @jordanstrophe @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump @chifechi @unicornscotty @penny-for-your-whump @getyourwhumphere @likeit-or-whumpit @jasm0307 @lightdrinker @hurting-fictional-people @captainseconds @glamrockgregory

CW: recovering pet whumpee, environmental whump, references to an amputated finger, paranoia/hallucinations

-

As he turned to lock the final door behind him, Rowe could see that he had been in a warehouse, evidently a rarely-used one. A single floodlight was on, illuminating nothing but a bare wall and the road leading up to it. Rowe had been correct- it was night. The open air was a thousand blessings as he breathed it in. His eyes felt clean, he could stand up properly, he wasn’t wearing that fucking collar anymore.

The happiness was short-lived, but he let himself have it. He was free. He just had to get home, now.

Rowe would have panicked, at that moment, but instead his heart toughened, because Kasia hadn’t been able to break him down. He was missing a finger, and the throbbing pain made sure he wouldn’t forget in a hurry, but he was still there, still himself. His nightmares would probably take a new form, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep alone again, but he was fine. He was a Pet. He was a person. Surviving was a skill of his.

He rested a hand on the wall, making sure he was hidden in shadow, and let himself take some of the weight off his scarred leg. Burnt, smashed, sewn up and burnt again. He would be limping, by the time he got home. But get home he would, and in some way, it was thanks to his leg. He had been sat on his bed, back when he couldn’t walk, looking for something to distract him from the feelings of anger and uselessness and what if he throws me out?

So he’d looked down and practised his reading. He remembered it perfectly. Tomas G…Grz…. something… 12 h-a-r-t… Hartland Road… your Pet… s-p-l-i-n-t…. bed rest for up to one week…

Rowe had read the address, and perhaps even then he’d known he might one day need it. It didn’t solve the problem of knowing whereHartland Road was, or whether he’d make it there without being stolen or beaten up or killed, but he had to try.

Kidnapped, he thought. You’d only say stolen for a piece of property.

The warehouse was evidently on the outskirts of town. Was it the right town? Rowe thought so, as he studied the lights shining down the road. Several of the shapes were familiar to him. The colourful string bulbs that were hung up along the shopping streets, the glow from the theatre on the hill, the dark spot where the graveyard sat. From his bedroom window he had to crane to get a good look, but he could see it well from the office. He ached to be back there. In the warmth and familiarity of it. Back with- Master? The word sounded strange now. Especially since- since Rowe felt like he understood him now. Understood his intentions.

He started to walk. Kasia’s jacket rested on his shoulders, and he couldn’t bear to put his arms in. The idea alone made him feel trapped. The thing smelt distinctly of the bastard, but Rowe knew it was preferable to the cold of a dead night. He found a main road soon enough, built up above the rest of the grassy flatland, so he gingerly climbed down the hill and walked alongside. He would be hidden from passing cars well enough, but his bare feet soon began to take the brunt of the choice of rough land over tarmac. Stones, sticks, was that roadkill, oh, god, all were littered through his journey which was only sparsely lit by the occasional road light. After a particularly sharp stone, or possibly even a discarded glass bottle, Rowe knew his foot was bleeding. He ground his teeth together. It wasn’t real if he couldn’t see it. And right now, he couldn’t see his own hand in front of him.

He kept his eyes on the lights from the town before him, slowly drawing closer.

He thought he heard footsteps behind him, running closer with horrifying speed. As they drew near he could hear Kasia screaming at him.

You think you can fucking get away from me? You think you locked that collar? You really think I won’t come back?

He kept his eyes fixed on the town. “It-it-it’s n-not real,” he whispered past the lump in his throat. He was trembling with fear. “It’s not real, I locked him up, I st-stopped him, it’s not real, it’s not.”

The paranoia wouldn’t leave him, though. Every passing car, though they were few and far between, made him jump and crouch down, hands clamped over his mouth. He couldn’t shake the fear that it was Kasia after him, out searching for the rotten escaped Pet. His leg burst with pain every time, making him whimper and cry when he tried to stand back up.

The sounds of footsteps gradually stopped, and Kasia’s voice faded, but Rowe could still feel his hands clawing at him. His back tingled with the overwhelming sensation that someone was behind him, creeping up and reaching out to grab-

Against his better judgement, he turned back. Darkness there, and nothing more. “Fuck, f-fuck, keep it together,” he muttered.

Just up ahead, he could see streetlamps. Proper ones, glowing a gentle orange. He went as far as he could along the grass, then climbed up, wetting his hands in the dew. He checked for cars, and seeing none, scrambled fully onto the road.

He realised he couldn’t run anymore- his leg would give out, or he wouldn’t be able to contain a howl of pain- so he limped as quickly as he could towards the next patch of shadow, over and over.

Eventually he came upon a sign: Welcome to….

It was half shadowed, but it was a map. He pushed himself up on his tip-toes, eyes scanning the jumble of letters and lines and symbols. Eventually he spotted it. Hartland Road. He traced the direction in his head, making sure it was committed to memory, although he knew he wouldn’t forget it even if someone tried to beat it out of him. And then, he started walking.

He couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, but he would have guessed around three or four in the morning. The pub, as he passed it, was quiet, although he still kept his distance, hugging the shadows.

He soon reached the base of the hill he knew he’d have to climb. As he started to ascend, he saw the Pet hospital in the distance. Oh god, would he have to go back there to get his finger treated? He pushed the question to the back of his mind. If he did, there wasn’t anything he could do.

A few cars drove by, as he walked. He wanted to duck into one of the smaller streets that branched off, but he had only memorised one route home, and he didn’t trust himself to improvise in the dark. So instead he squared his shoulders, stopped hunching, tried his best to look like a person walking home in his heavy jacket, not afraid, not prey. It didn’t feel quite right, but it was easier than he’d expected. And it worked- no cars stopped, no one seemed to give him a second glance.

He finally reached the street, the name lit up. Hartland Road. The sign was scuffed, like kids had popped the cap off their beers along its edge. It was fixed to the wall of a garden, weeds poking out through the bricks, a flyer from the council tied at eye-level to the neck of the streetlamp. Rowe took everything in as he walked. The bicycle clipped to a fence, the parked cars, the black bins left out for collection. Before, he never would have taken notice. None of it had mattered. But now, Rowe felt as if he had a new connection to the world around him. He could interact with it. He wasn’t leashed or under the watchful eye of an owner, he wasn’t crawling or blindfolded in the boot of a car. He was in pain, yes, but he was always in pain, so constantly that it hardly registered anymore. He was free.

Rowe didn’t recognise the house itself. The only times he’d ever left it, he’d been unconscious, or practically so.

But when he turned around, he saw the same view he’d had from his bedroom window every morning and night. He was home.

He remembered Kasia’s key, but it no longer fit into the front door. The lock must have been changed. Rowe hated that the alternative was to make a loud noise, at this hour, but perhaps that was the smarter way than simply slipping inside like- like Kasia. So he hesitantly pressed down on the doorbell, hitting his fist against the wood as well. He waited. He thought about how he’d never rung a doorbell before in his life.

Silence. Rowe wasn’t exactly surprised, but his heart still tightened. Suddenly the fresh air didn’t feel freeing, it felt exposed. He rang again, knocking harder, not giving up. Surely he would know it was urgent? Surely he would come down, and Rowe would get to see his face again?

Faintly, he heard the creaking of the stairs. “I-I-It’s me!” he said, hushed. “It’s me, I…”

His words died as the door slowly opened. Half a face, an eye framed by blond curls peered out, full of apprehension. In a heartbeat it landed on Rowe and widened, and the door flew open.

“Tomas,” Rowe said, loving how it felt to say his name, loving him, loving everything. “I’m back, I, I’m back, I’m back.”

Tomas raised a hand over his mouth, and for once he was the one shaking. “Oh my god… oh my god.”

And then he was reaching both arms out for Rowe with a sob. Rowe threw the horrible jacket to the ground and fell into him, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding on tight. He couldn’t have known whose knees failed first, but suddenly they had collapsed on the floor, clinging onto each other, not leaving a shred of space between as they both cried. Soaked in the orange light that pooled through the still-open front door.

[kusagrasskusa]

Michael Myers X Short! Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

I wrote this story on Wattpad (@Red_scarfed_person) and decided to post it here lol. If you saw this on Wattpad and don't believe me, you can go to my page on Wattpad and see that in my Messages, I talk about having a Tumblr account and left my Tumblr username there :)

And rereading my old story scared me. If you're here expecting a violent, fearful story, please don't read this. This is full of the sarcasm someone who lacks sleep can muster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah yes. Y/N's favorite part of the day. Trying to cook. Was that sarcasm? Partially.

Y/N loved cooking; it was so satisfying to see people enjoy her food. But the part she hated was trying to reach the goDDAMN bowls and ingredients from the cabinets. Why did the construction workers have to put them 17 light years high?

Of course, it wasn't the construction workers' fault. It's just that Y/N is the size of a fifth grader. 4'6" tall. What makes it harder to live being so short? Living with someone who's 6'7."

You see, a while ago, there was a certain incident...

A tall male in a white mask and blue jumpsuit, brown hair and blue eyes, found himself in the home of another. He silently panted in his mask, in pain even if he wouldn't show it. Rolling up his sleeves and pulling up the bottom of his shirt, Michael started checking for severe wounds.

"Damn, you're hot..." Some short woman mumbled, turning on the kitchen light. Michael perked up, pulling his shirt back down and reaching for his knife.

"Oh, damn, wrong time to speak up? Sorry," Y/N said, not even knowing if she was being sarcastic in that sentence or not. Mainly since author-san doesn't know if their being sarcastic or not. Anyway--

Michael started walking towards her with the knife, not running since we all know that Michael can walk and still win Olympic runs. Y/N just grabbed a candy bar in her cabinet, opening it and taking a bit.

Michael was confused as hell. As a result, he stopped walking and lowered the knife. "So, you're not gonna kill me? That sucks since my dept is unbelievably high." Michael blinked quickly in confusion, thinking, then it might not be too high with short you are.

Y/N sighed, then gasped. "Oh wait! You're that boogeyman guy who everyone is scared of!" Y/N said with a small smile. She wasn't sadistic or anything, but she was sorta excited to see him.

Michael just stood there, not even knowing how to react for the first time in his life. Y/N then sighed again, throwing away the wrapper to the candy bar and shrugging. "If you decide to kill me later, stab my neck. It's very sensitive. Oh and my room is down the hall, to the left. And my couch is comfortable if you wanna sleep there."

And with those last words, Y/N walked to her room, closing the door behind her and getting it bed. Leaving a confused serial killer.

The next morning, Y/N yawned as she walked out of her bedroom and to the kitchen. Her kitchen and living room was one large room, the kitchen set to the right near the front door, and the living room on the other side of the room.

Between them is a hallway that leads to a bedroom and bathroom. It was a two story house. The top two floors had an office room, another bathroom, and a storage room.

Anyway, Y/N rubbed sleep from her eyes as she walked over to the stove and grabbing a pan. She also pulled out milk, pepper, salt and eggs and set them ok the counter. But now she needed a bowl to even put those in.

Michael heard noise from the kitchen which resulted in him waking up. He slowly sat up on the couch, turning to face Y/N. He got up and walked towards her.

"Why is this so high up," Y/N mumbled to herself as she tried to reach a bowl from a cabinet. She couldn't even reach the handle on the cabinet. Growling in frustration, Y/N gave into defeat.

But then comes Michael opening the cabinet for her, making her help and turn around. "W-Who the hell are you!" Y/N shrieked, blushing a bit. I mean, here she is, a tiny gal blocked in the corner of the kitchen by a tall, mascular guy.

Memories came flooding back and Y/N remembered who he was. "Ooooh, so you're that boogeyman guy? I remember now...wait... I let a damn serial killer into my house!?" Y/N shrieked again as Michael set down the bowl, turning on the stove.

As Y/N went through her epiphany, Michael actually started to cook. It wasn't until he was done did Y/N snap out of it. He set out two plates and cups, putting the scrambled eggs on them and filling the cups with F/D.

"W-Wait...so you aren't going to kill me? You're really gonna..." Y/N mumbled as Michael grabbed a nearby receipt and pen. He wrote down something, making Y/N shush and lean over at what he's writing.

"My name is Michael. I'm not planning on hurting you anytime soon. What is your name?" it read. Y/N was confused as hell now. Why would he spare her? What is so special about her? I should just be grateful, Y/N thought.

"I'm Y/N, Y/N L/N..." Y/N said, looking up at Michael. She blushed a bit, making eye contact. Michael grabbed a plate and cup and handed it to her, then grabbed his own and sat down at the small diner table. Well, way to go from one thing to another, Y/N thought as she sat down next to him.

As much as it confused her, Y/N still wasn't sure how she was still alive. But she was grateful she was, anyway. She always the tall male attractive, but never had feelings for him until recently.

Even if he'd refuse to get things for her that were high up, give her looks that just screamed out about her being short, and wrote down short on sticky notes and put them everywhere, she fell for him. What a lovely crush.

"Why the hell are the damn cabinets 17 light years high," Y/N growled as she climbed on the counter. Just as she was about to grab a bowl, she yelped when large arms wrapped around her an pulled her down carefully.

"Michael! Hey, let go!" Y/N yelled, trying to be serious despite how much she wanted to smile and laugh. Michael shook his head, hugging her tighter.

Despite how badly be wanted to tease her about her height, he kept quiet of course. He didn't just want a hug, either, he wanted to pull her down so she'd have to struggle to get back on the counter again. As said before, what a lovely crush.

Michael eventually pulled away, taking a couple steps back. Y/N looked over at him with a sour-sweet look, blushing a bit. She crossed her arms, "so, was that all you wanted?" Yeah, is that all you wanted, baka? ≧n≦

Michael shook his head, pointing to the bathroom. Y/N raised a brow. "What?" She asked, thinking for a moment. "You need a towel or something?" Michael then nodded.

Y/N smiled a bit, nodding. She walked to her room, Michael following until they reached the door. Grabbing a towel, Y/N walked back over to him and handed it. "It might be a bit small for a giant such as yourself, but here."

Michael nodded, then walked towards the bathroom and went inside. Y/N smiled a bit, thinking to herself about what he'd look like once he got out. It made her cheeks heat up and her heart beat a bit faster.

And about 15 minutes later, Y/N was back in the living room, watching TV. "C'mon, Saitama, beat the hell outta them..." Y/N mumbled under her breath, watching an intense fighting scene.

Y/N perked when she heard the bathroom door open and looked over. Long story short about that was happening in her mind: bad idea.

"MMMM-" Y/N screamed muffledly, having covered her mouth with a pillow that moment. Her face was red, blushing hard from the sight. The towel covered just enough on Michael to where nothing was shown, but he was h o t. Even the scars on him weren't seen as disturbing or anything.

Michael cocked his head, holding his clothes in his hands. He ignored Y/N's reaction to seeing him, since he only cared about his jumpsuit being cleaned. Of course he would act like that--

Y/N, already knowing what Michael wanted, slowly stood up and walked over. She was figitting, clearly still flustered as she grabbed his clothes. "I-I'll just, uh, go wash these..." She mumbled as she walked passed him quickly, to the washing machine and dryer.

Michael blinked a couple times, thinking about the hell he's supposed to where for the time being. Just the towel?

About five minutes passed, Michael was still waiting next to the bathroom for Y/N to come back. He just wanted something to c h a n g e i n t o.

Alas, the moment finally came. Y/N walked back out after almost crying to herself in the laundry room. Typing this out now made me realize I'm making it sound like Y/N was-- well, if you know, you know. But no, that wasn't happening. Our child, Y/N, was just flustered, ok? Yes, our child. I care about you so much reader and I love your OC even though idfk what they look like. They're a beautiful specimen. :):):):):):) Anyway, back to the story.

"H-Hey," Y/N stuttered as she walked out, waving as Michael. Michael, who kept his mask on by the way, just rolled his eyes from inside the mask, handing her a piece of paper. It said that he needed a change of clothes, to which Y/N just chuckled about. "I-I mean...Do you reallllyyy? Can't you just stick with that? You don't look too bad in it, heh heh."

Michael have her a dull look from under his mask, making Y/N sigh. "Fine, whatever. But let's be honest, I'm not gonna have anything that fits you. You should just stick with that," she said, shrugging and pretending to calm about seeing him like that. She was clearly in a flirty mood, which she sometimes gets like when she wants to annoy Michael.

He likes to out sticky notes everywhere with the word short on it, pull her off counters so she has a harder time getting stuff from cabinets, and put his hand above her head as if he was saying, "You're not tall enough to do ____." So it's only normal she would flirt to get him back. But mayyybe acting like that isn't a good decision on her part.

Michael sighed silently, grabbing Y/N"s wrist softly. "Wha--" Y/N cut herself off when Michael pulled her close, leaning down to get his face close to her's. Then, for the very first time in years, Michael spoke.

"Whatever makes you happier~" Michael whispered in her ear; his voice was low and husky. Y/N turned red immediately, incapable of even coming up with a response. Hold on- a tall, mysterious guy with a good figure pulled me close and now can speak, in a hot goddamn voice at that, Y/N thought.

Michael caressed her cheek, pulling away. Y/N had her mouth slightly parted, her eyes widened. "Yo...You can..." Y/N stuttered, not even able to come up with a sentence. So instead, she just nodded slowly, slowly walking into her room and gesturing for him to follow. Michael smiled proudly under his mask, following her.

Yes, what he did was small but Y/N was the kind of person to be a bit extra about these things. Of course it affected her. Anyway, about five minutes later, Y/N couldn't find anything for him to wear other than a large hoodie and very oversized sweatpants she got from a Plot Convenience Sale, which was kinda tight for him. But at least she had a use for the sweatpants, since that was kinda just in her closet.

Y/N took a deep breath once Michael was done changing, coming out of her room. Of course, she left the room when he got changed so don't think dirty, precious readers. Y/N looked over, smiling a bit with heated cheeks at Michael. The small moment from earlier was still bothering her.

"Does it fit?" she asked, raising a brow. Michael nodded, putting his hands in the hoodie pockets. "That's good," Y/N mumbled, staring at the ground awkwardly. A couple moments of silence later, Michael smiled from under his mask, taking it off while Y/N was too busy being lost in a daydream to notice.

"Thank you," Michael whispered as her kissed her forehead, making Y/N flinch. Because Michael appears to be as fast as light, he was already putting his mask on by the time Y/N looked up. Her face was red again, but even worse than before.

"M-Michael, did you just--" Michael was already walking away, brushing her off. "Hey, listen to me!" Y/N yelled as she caught up to him. Like hell that was going to be a one time thing, Y/N thought. I'm going to see his face eventually, she promised herself.

[green-eyed-whumpster]

My OC Universe: Rowan 126

Chapter 126 Summary: William learns very quickly that Peter isn’t going to let him get away with talking as much as Rowan did. (Tags: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: PTSD whumpee, reference to previous abuse, threats, violence

Rowan was asleep when Peter gently propped open the door and glanced in, he did as he promised and left a bowl by the wall, on top of a flat stone he had pulled from the fireplace that would make sure it hopefully wasn’t cold when he woke up.

He sat with his back against the dining table, facing the creature he swore to watch. Common sense told him the food wasn’t bad, but it felt like sediment crushing between his teeth and mud sliding down his throat. Even looking at William was an effort. Depictions of the King had always been regal and dignified, but looking at him now, he looked like a leper so diseased no one would even risk tossing him a coin.

William woke up before midnight, sadly Peter was beginning to nod off and the sound of a man grunting awake startled him out of any sleep he could have ever hoped to achieve. He watched as William’s head bobbed weakly, face obscured by tendrils of dirty and oily hair, he was waiting for proof that the captive was truly awake.

“Argh…fucking bitch,” The gravelly voice seemed to whisper in the large space of the room and Peter’s eyes narrowed at the clear anger towards Rowan.

“Your head hurt?” He spat. “You feeling a little sore after getting cracked in the skull?” William forced his gaze up and blinked a few times to clear them of the bleary film blocking Peter’s face from him. He certainly thought Rowan sounded weird when he spoke. But of course he recognised the stern face of the hunter that choked him unconscious and knocked him out soon after.

“Oh, fantastic,” He groaned. “You’re back so soon? And I thought Rowan and I could talk more.” He smirked at the furious reaction his comment earned and winced at the effort.

“If I had the stomach I’d torture you the same way you tortured him, but I only kill animals, I don’t abuse them.”

“Oh, how clever, I suppose I’m the animal?” William mocked. “That must be where Rowan got that eloquence from. He sounded like an idiot every time he spoke in my presence.”

“I’m not in the mood to listen to any more of your poison than I have to.” Peter scowled, shaking his head softly. “You keep making noise and I’ll gag you with an ember.”

“I thought you didn’t hurt animals.”

Peter pushed himself to his feet and stepped towards William menacingly, he was fully prepared to silence this creature so he didn’t find himself caught in a conversation again. As he loomed over William, the man realised how utterly defenceless he was and attempted to backpedal.

“All right, all right, I’m sorry.” He exclaimed and Peter stopped. The shadow of firelight flickered over his face as he glowered at William’s tightly bound form, he wanted to continue forward and hurt him but, he couldn’t now that the victim had conceded. Part of him hated how weak he was.

“The next unsolicited sound from your mouth will be the last you utter for a long time,” He promised roughly, turning around to sit down again. “And if you speak to Rowan again, I won’t hesitate to break your jaw.”

That was a threat Alexander had not thought to use against him, and the idea of his teeth cracking apart with the force of whatever blow that would be dealt to him thoroughly intimidated William. He knew the hunter would have an axe lying around somewhere, at the very least. There were no doubt many weapons that could fracture bone within the vicinity, even while waiting for Rowan to bring him water he noticed the cast iron pots and cooking utensils, that would do more than enough damage to him.

“I only asked for some water,” 

While he wouldn’t be quite as brazen as before, he still couldn’t help his attempt to defend himself.

“Then why was he in tears when I came home?” Peter snarled, turning on his heel. “I left him alone with you less than an hour and yet you still managed to upset him so much he managed to knock you unconscious!” He shook his head angrily and scrunched up his nose in distaste. “He’s so innocent he can’t even bear to watch me prepare one of my kills, he’s never killed an animal in his life, and yet you managed to enrage him enough to risk killing you. Don’t you dare try and play innocent with me. Because I don’t play well.” He sat down again in his space and glared at William, eyes flashing with hatred.

“Now not another word. Unless you’re ready to be silenced.”

~ The bedroom door creaked open slowly just after dawn and Rowan poked his head out to glance at the room before him. Peter’s head was balanced back on his shoulder as he slept, his hair tousled around his face and supporting his skull, it didn’t look comfortable, but Rowan was afraid of trying to help him and waking him up. He already felt bad enough for making Peter sleep against the dining table as it was, he didn’t want to risk upsetting him.

Olivia grumbling softly from her place on Rowan’s bed and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was all right. She had been really quiet during the night, it was almost as if she suppressed her pain for the sake of Rowan’s wellbeing. She knew that Rowan would get upset if she was in pain.

Rowan slowly shut the door again and rested against it, hugging the bowl of food he found left for him to his chest. It smelled really nice, even though it was beginning to turn cold so he picked up the spoon tucked into the potatoes at the bottom and lifted it to his mouth. He always liked Peter’s food, it wasn’t ever particularly flavoursome, but it was so much nicer than the delicate portions of high-class meals or scraps that the kitchen would begrudgingly give him at the castle.

He had never been one to dream of lavish lifestyles with feather beds and fine wines. Even with William that dream turned to a nightmare. When he was young all he wanted was his father to be kind to him, then when he was on the streets he wished for a safe place to sleep and food, when he was in Lord Borin’s manor he only wanted somewhere to hide, he never wanted anything with Peter, and when he was with the garrison, he just wanted freedom, in whatever form it took. But his entire life all he wanted for his future was somewhere safe to live and a full belly, didn’t matter if the house was small or the food was poor, just some form of consistent safety.

Thinking about how safe he felt now, even with William only one room away from him, Rowan shuddered gently and relaxed against the wall, clutching the bowl tightly. A whole new wave of gratitude swept over him like a gust of wind and he had to push down the needy desire to see Peter and thank him again.

Then the memory of asking for a hug the night before reminded him of the source of his newfound sense of security. He was ashamed that he asked for something like that, that he savoured the feeling of Peter holding him, that he kept mimicking the sensation of Peter’s lips on his skin. He really was a whore. It’s not been more than a few months, and already he’s forgotten how deceptive those touches can be, and already craving more of them. William was right, it doesn’t matter who, he’s always looking for these people to support him.  William, then Cordelia, and now Peter.

Stop it. Please, just stop it. William isn’t right, he’s a bully. Peter’s right, he’s a bully.

Rowan took a deep breath and put down the bowl to run his hands over his hair. He needed another bath, he was dirty. That thought only upset him in another way and he shook it from his skull.

When he managed to clear his head he realised how the ice from outside was creeping into his skin once more and quietly scrambled back into bed, curling up in the residual warmth that the quilts had retained. It was an entertaining thought to imagine William tied against the wall while Rowan was wrapped up in warmth with food and his companion. He wanted to see William be hurt, but he couldn’t bear to risk being caught in another trap.

It was going to be a very long week.

[stories-for-sell]

AnNOIed Kitty (Part 1 of idfk how many cause of all the ideas I have)

@dinonuggies980

Noi was stretched out on the couch, long tail swishing back and forth as he napped, the sun shining on his back through the window. Around him, the apartment bustled and teemed with life as his fellow daemos went about their normal days, and his girlfriend, princess Ava, was cooking breakfast for everyone.

They had all gotten used to Noi having cat ears and a tail, and a kitty personality that could rival Johnny, who was currently curled up on the floor next to the couch, enjoying a cat nap with Noi. It had been a couple weeks since the magicks accident that led to Noi getting turned into a feline friend, and the adjustment to how new instinctual behaviour was going rather well now.

Ava had taught him not to knock anything breakable off surfaces just because he wants attention, not to scratch up her furniture, to keep his nails clipped low, and not to disrupt them over simple things. And most importantly, not to throw hissy fits just because he wants attention or something and no one will give it to him. All of these things he had begun to do within the first week of becoming a neko? Meif’wa? Ava didn’t know the proper scientific term for what Noi was, but it didn’t really matter, cause in the end he was still her boyfriend.

The day was going by rather slowly, and it appeared to be just one of their relaxing days. Asch was being taught by Rhys how to play cards, and attempting not to burn his card hand when he got frustrated (They’ve already gone through two decks, glad Ava had back-up); Leif was sitting on the couch with Noi, who was curled in a ball at one end, while Leif sat on the other end; and finally, Ava and Pierce were in the middle of a game of chess, which Pierce was winning.

They all chatted back and forth except for Noi, who appeared to be sleeping; as they spoke, everyone’s, especially Asch’s, voices began to rise in volume, forgetting to keep quiet and let the kitty sleep. As Rhys laid his hand down, winning once more, Asch reached his limit, throwing his hands out and sending cards flying, letting out a loud and frustrated scream.

Noi’s head shot up, looking around and feeling panic set in. Who was yelling and why? He began to fiddle with his shirt, standing up quickly, tears springing to his eyes. Why was he about to cry? What is wrong with him? Everything is so loud, it hurts, He needed to get away before he broke down. Scrambling off the couch as discreetly as he could, Noi rushed towards the wall where the entrance to their rooms were, ears down and tail tucked. He itched to throw something, scream back, cry, hit, hide. His brain was trying to process all these things at once and was overloading itself. If he could just get to his room, where it was quiet, he would be ok. Get to his safe place, away from the noise.

Ava noticed this and lifted her fingers to her lips, whistling for their attention. “Guys! Calm down and lower your voices, I think we overwhelmed Noi..”

“Noi always hates random, loud noises. He’s a crybaby, and can’t handle things.” Leif said coldly, receiving a squirt of water from a spray bottle.

“Well, Leif, he’s also still adjusting to being part cat, and one things cats have is enhanced hearing, meaning everything is louder to him than to normal ears like ours. Asch screaming probably made his fight or flight reflexes kick in. We have to remember that Noi has sensory issues, and doesn’t do well with things like this. Now I’m gonna go check on him, you boys stay here and clean up Asch’s mess.”

She found him, curled into a tight little ball on his bed, surrounded by many pillows and covered by his blanket. Knowing that he doesn’t like his girlfriend seeing him like this, she did not remove the blanket, instead opting to lay on the bed next to the hidden daemon and wrap her arms around him, letting him know she was there for him.

After a bit, his head emerged, turning to the side to look at Ava, who had fallen asleep waiting on him to calm down a bit. Her hair fell over her face and he lifted a gentle hand to it, brushing the stray strands away; pulling the blanket up, he draped it over her as well, so they could both be comfortable. Noi wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling the girl against his chest and sighing. He hated being so weak, hated feeling like he couldn’t even protect Ava if something happened to her. Oh Irene, what if something happened to her and he couldn’t do anything to save her. The thought of that made tears well up in his eyes, and he hugged the sleeping girl tighter, tail wrapping around her waist and ears lifting up, listening and waiting, ready to attack if something that posed as a threat to Ava showed itself. 

And yet, the warmth radiating from her, and the calming smell of her shampoo in his overly-enhanced nose enveloped him in a gentle embrace, whispering in his tall ears to just relax and rest, enjoy the peaceful moment with this girl. So he accepted, feeling himself drift into a nightmare-free rest, in the arms of his beloved girlfriend, a low rumbling purr vibrating in his chest as they slept together.

Rhys quietly opened Noi’s door a crack, peeking in and spotting the sleeping couple. Deciding to let them sleep, in fear of angering Ava for waking them, he shuts it just as quietly as he had opened it and turned, heading back to the living room. News of them finishing up the mess could wait, no matter what Prince Asch would say. Noi honestly deserved a peaceful moment, after everything he’s been through. 

It honestly still felt like just yesterday that the attack had happened, and Noi had been transformed into a cat, and since then everyone had been on guard and snappish, which didn’t help their feline friend. Still, Something about the attack rubbed Ryhs the wrong way, there was just something about her that was off.. That was inhuman..

(Part 1)

[psycho-slytherin]

Strangers ch. 42

Yoongi confronts your attacker, and you awaken from one nightmare into another.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Genre: fluff, angst, idfk

|mlist|

<–– Prev   Next ––>

“What? Who the fuck are you? Get out of my house before I call the police!” The redhead reaches for the door in an attempt to close it, but Yoongi’s hold is too strong. He’s been waiting for this moment for two weeks– and he won’t let the opportunity slip away.

“You don’t know me, Seoyeon? And here I thought you were a fan.” With his free hand, Yoongi reaches up and pulls down his mask. Seoyeon’s sneer falls in an instant, replaced with the look of utter shock and adoration that Yoongi knows so well.

“Yoon-Suga? Wait, oh- oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my-” Seoyeon’s eyes roll up into her head and she keels over backwards, hitting the floor with a heavy thump. 

Well, that was quick. Y/n fainted too, Yoongi remembers, when she first saw him. Looking at the fallen girl, part of Yoongi wants to feel sympathy for her. After all, she’s a fan. 

But then he remembers Y/n shaking as she told Yoongi what the woman in front of him had done to her. He remembers every time he saw his friend flinch at a light breeze, the tremor in her voice when she explained that scar on her leg, and his own fear at finding Y/n’s bloody coat in the river.

All because of her. And so Yoongi lets himself into the house, quietly closing the door behind him as he waits for her to wake up. 

It had taken D two weeks to find Kang Seoyeon’s name and address from nothing more than the photo Yoongi had gotten off of Lisa’s laptop. Only now, as he stares at the woman’s motionless frame, Yoongi wonders if she really could have been capable of hurting Y/n like that. She’s pretty, petite, and vaguely reminds Yoongi of a pixie. 

Another minute passes before Seoyeon begins to shift groggily. “Wha…”

“I’m not helping you up,” Yoongi says shortly.

Seoyeon’s head snaps up, her piercing eyes capturing Yoongi’s own. “Suga. Suga! It really wasn’t a dream?” She scrambles to her feet, reaching forward, and Yoongi suddenly feels as though he’s about to be eaten alive.

“I knew it,” Seoyeon whispers reverently. “Cap said you’d come to me. We’re meant to be.”

Y/n’s right– she’s psycho.

Yoongi feels darkness pooling in his heart, and loathing bubbling to the surface. “I don’t care what you think is meant to be. But there’s someone I do care about– and you deserve to rot in prison for what you did to her.”

“I- what… oh!” Seoyeon lowers her arms, an eerie smile growing on her face, much too wide to seem genuine. “You mean Y/n?”

Yoongi growls– a low, animalistic rumble– as he takes a step closer. “You tried to kill her.”

“But- ah,” Seoyeon seems to wince at the cold fury in his voice. Good. “I did it to protect you! Y/n thinks you belong to her, but you don’t!” Faster than Yoongi can react, Seoyeon’s hands shoot out and grab Yoongi’s shoulders with a grip forceful enough to hurt, the smile never leaving her face. “You belong to me, to us, Suga! To ARMYs!”

Shit. She’s stronger than he expected. But perhaps… 

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Yoongi says, lacing a note of authority into his tone. Unbelievably, Seoyeon’s grip loosens, and Yoongi uses the opportunity to push her hands away from him. 

I don’t belong to anyone,” Yoongi continues forcefully, watching Seoyeon seem to shrink before him. “And nothing gives you the right to hurt her!”

Seoyeon pauses, and the house is dead silent for an eternal minute. “Nothing?” She begins snickering– quietly at first, but soon enough she doubles over with laughter. “You really don’t know what’s going to happen to your pretty little girlfriend, do you?”

It’s as though Yoongi’s blood has turned to ice. “What?”

“Ooh, you don’t know! Well, Cap said not to say…” Seoyeon pretends to think. 

Yoongi grinds his teeth together in frustration; he knows he’s being baited, but if Y/n’s in danger… “Tell me.”

Seoyeon’s eyes are blown out as she stares at Yoongi, licking her lips. “I’d consider it a favor. I’d be willing to do you a lot of favors, you know. I’m… very good at favors.”

Yoongi’s stomach lurches. He doesn’t want to know what Seoyeon would do to him. “Don’t give me more reasons to call the cops. I could have you arrested.”

Seoyeon laughs again. “For what?”

“Attempted murder isn’t enough?” Yoongi fires back. “You nearly killed Y/n, you bi-”

“There’s no evidence. No one saw anything– I’m untouchable.” Seoyeon advances menacingly. “But you know who isn’t? Y/n.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to– he’s not sure; Question? Yell? Threaten?– when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He winces, unwilling to tear his eyes from the predator before him. Still, it could be Y/n– and Yoongi’s been worrying over her condition. He places himself between Seoyeon and the door before answering his phone, eyes never leaving hers.

“Yes?”

“Yo, Gloss, that girl you got me tracking down with the shitty dye job?”

Oh, it’s just his old friend. “D, I’m busy, let me call you later.”

“Nah, man, you gotta hear this. You’re gonna like it.”

Seoyeon stands motionless before him. Yoongi’s time before his driver bursts in is almost up and he hasn’t gotten a confession. “Fine. What is it?”

“Remember that photo of you and your girl that went viral a while back?”

How could he forget? The infamous picture from that night got him and Y/n into the whole publicity mess and changed their relationship forever. 

“I was tracking Seoyeon’s IP address and digging through her socials… dude, the original photo came from one of her accounts.”

Yoongi’s blood turns to ice as D continues: “A bunch of these ARMY girls have backup accounts, and this one’s hers. You’ve got a stalker, my man.”

Could it be true? Had Kang Seoyeon followed Yoongi to the hospital and found Y/n? Were her injuries and trauma his fault?

Yoongi swallows, feeling the wave of anxiety almost drown him before he pushes it away. Not now. 

“Thanks for letting me know,” he manages.

“No worries. Yo, what’s wrong? Are you-” Beep. Yoongi hangs up and shoves the phone into his pocket. “Now, where were we? Oh, right. You were going to tell me everything you know about Y/n and anyone that could hurt her.”

Seoyeon laughs, a pitched, wild noise. “Excuse me? Who said I’d tell you anything?”

Yoongi barely has to lean forward until he’s so close that Seoyeon needs to tilt her head up to look at him. “I did.”

Yoongi can hear her breath catch, practically seeing the wheels turning in her head. If she’s truly as obsessive as he thinks she is… 

After a pause, Seoyeon grins. “Fine. Cap’s gonna hate me, but fine. I’ll tell you everything, and just in case you think I’m bullshitting, I’ll show you I mean business… for a price.”

Yoongi blinks. Is she bluffing? Could Y/n really be in danger? Am I in danger too?

“So? What’ll it be?”

Y/n. It’s for Y/n. But is it worth it?

~~~

“Help! Help me!” A garbled, genderless voice yells.

“I’m trying!” You cry, running through the empty streets. The voice echoes around every corner. “Tell me where you are! I don’t know how to help you!”Suddenly you trip, falling hard. The pavement has turned into your bed, your legs tangled in the sheets.

“No one needs help from a traitor,” the same voice says from inside your head. “A liar.”

You struggle to rise, but your mattress seems to envelop you, pulling you in, and instead of soft sheets and down you’re surrounded by ice, unable to find purchase.

“I’m not a liar!” You scream, scrabbling for grip as the ice rises past your shoulders. Goosebumps erupt on your flesh and you begin shivering violently, the only movement the ice will allow. “T-t-tell me ho-w to f-find you!”

“Find me?” The ice finishes swallowing you whole, the gaping chasm closing above your head. You know you shouldn’t be able to breathe but your chest still rises and falls with the desperate action. “All you have to do… is look in a mirror.” The ice beneath your feet disappears and you’re dropped into the yawning darkness. You blink and the area is suddenly flooded with light. You’re in a jail cell, empty except for a large mirror. You feel something dry and sweet in your mouth, and when you glance at the mirror… 

Lisa stares back at you, a pastry between her teeth. You spit it out, reaching forward. Lisa mirrors you, her hand outstretched.

“Where are you?” You murmur, watching as your words escape Lisa’s mouth. Suddenly her lips in the mirror curl into a smirk.

“I’m right in front of you. I always have been.”

“No!” Your eyes fly open, your heart thundering. You clutch at your chest, feeling as though the hand is holding your very being from falling to pieces. Fumbling for your phone, you wince at the bright screen before noticing the time. 4:00– well, it’s longer than you’ve managed to sleep all week. You groan at yet another nightmare, falling back onto your pillow with a sense of defeat. You hate this fear within you, but what can you do? Lisa’s gone and the redhead may have gotten to her. The detective told you not to worry, but how can you not worry? And now your mom is cutting you off, and you might have to drop out, and Lisa is gone, and it seems like the only constant left in your life is Yoongi.

Yoongi. You chuckle hollowly, falling back onto your pillow. He’s the least consistent person you know, but at least he’s always been there for you.

Ignoring your stomach’s rumbling protests, you close your eyes and turn over, praying sleep takes you again.

And take you it does– sweet, dreamless sleep captures you and when you blearily awake again it’s with sunlight streaming through your windows. It must be late in the morning already. Your phone buzzes obnoxiously with what sound like dozens of notifications.

Maybe I should just delete Twitter, you muse defeatedly as you flip over your phone, scrolling mindlessly through your mentions. Right away, you notice something strange:

@bangtan_thotyeondan: yo I hated on @yourname at first but tbh that was a brutal move by #SUGA :(

@armyteez23: I told @queerqueen this would happen! @yourname deserves better umu

@captainkookie21: I told you @BTS_twt @yourname

@dduddudude: Y’all feeling bad for @yourname when the bitch had it coming all along

@bangtan-news: (1/3)BREAKING! #SUGA announces the relationship with @yourname is OVER! A thread:

@bangtan-news: (2/3)In an exclusive interview, #SUGA discussed the break from @yourname and his new girlfriend, @seoyeonnie-loves-bts! 

@bangtan-news: (3/3) @yourname has not released a statement on the situation. Stay tuned!

Your jaw drops. The relationship is over? New girlfriend? What... what happened? You click on the linked profile and check @seoyeonnie-loves-bts’s most recent post– it’s just a photo with a heart caption.

You suddenly feel sick. The- it- it’s… 

“You.” You whisper, all blood draining from your face. “You. And…”

The photo is of a beautiful redheaded girl. Her. She’s beaming, fingers interlaced with those of a very familiar man. 

You stare into Yoongi’s eyes in the photo, trying desperately to see something that isn’t there. You struggle for a second to form words, barely able to breathe. “You.”

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Be My Garden of Eden Ch.6

I think I’m on chapter 6. IDFK. 

I’m not quite happy with how this one turned out, but I have high hopes for the next one when we jump back into the action.

"I think I'm gonna call it a night. We have a busy day tomorrow." You stood up and stretched, yawning. 

"Can I join you?" Connor asked.

"Of course, " you smiled.

You blew out the candles and used your phone to find your way, Connor following after you. You went to your drawers and pulled out pajamas for yourself and the sweats and sweater Connor wore the last time he stayed at your home. Obviously, it was too dark to make him change clothes in the bathroom. You were going to buy batteries for your flashlight after getting Connor out of that club, but seeing him so badly injured, it was easy to forget your meager shopping list.

"Here. Turn around and change." He took the clothes and did what you asked. Under the borrowed clothes, he could see the reminder of his old life, the red boxer briefs with the gold lettering. It makes him wish he could take them off and burn them, burn his old life down to ashes. He quickly hid them under the comfort of your sweatpants.

Connor could see your silhouette on the wall, watching as it removed its clothes. The smooth contour of your body brought to mind his last night in this home, your soft skin welcoming his touch, those blissful sounds leaving your perfect lips. That memory had gotten him through many tough clients in the past. He wishes he could tell you so, how much you've helped him even before you set him free. What he really wants to do is tell you how he feels, but he can't. Not yet. Something in him says that now is not the time.

 When your shadow was dressed once more, he turned back around smiling softly at you as you moved to take your spot on one half of the bed. He did the same. 

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen an android like you before." You spoke. In the dim lighting his LED stemmed, he could see you looking up at the ceiling.

"To be honest, I don't think I've ever seen an android like me either, " Connor confessed. The club had many different models, but they weren't uncommon, "the club owner assumed I was a custom."

"He didn't know?" 

Connor realized that he had never told you of his, less than ideal, origins.

"I was illegally obtained... from the scrap yard." Would you think less of him, knowing he was deemed trash. Whatever his original function was, he had failed it, and before you, he believed that was where he belonged. He had two jobs, and he failed at both of them. 

You took hold of his hand.

"I knew you didn't belong there. To think that you ever had to go to such a terrible place."

"You've been there?" 

"Once. One of the androids I helped... She was injured, and because she was an older model, I couldn't get a replacement part, so I tried searching the scrapyard..." You went quiet, whispering out your next words, "... It was horrible, seeing so many damaged beyond repair. They begged for help... begged for everything to end... I managed to find the part and got out of there as fast as possible."

He rolled over, laying right against you. He pulled you into a tight embrace. You tensed for a second, and he thought for sure he screwed everything up over an impulse, but then you relaxed, leaning into him. 

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. To be honest, I don't remember my time there, " he mumbled into your hair, "All I remember is waking up in the basement of that club, most of my old programming overwritten with pleasure protocols, leaving behind only my name. Even the information about my model number is corrupted."

"That's strange. It sounds like someone didn't want you to be found." You've dealt with androids that had memory problems. They forgot their name, their owners, their old lives, but never their model number. It was something that was ingrained into their code. For Connor to not know his, someone might have scrambled his code on purpose. But why?

Connor remained silent. That was not a possibility he had ever considered. Most of his memory was corrupted, so it didn't surprise him that he didn't know what he was. But, you said it was 'strange'. For someone who knows little about androids to say that, it worries him. Who took the time to destroy such information, and what did he do before that nobody could know about, even himself? If so, were you in danger being with him? 

"Connor?" Your soft voice called to him. He could hear the concern.

"I'm alright. Just thinking, " he mumbled. No, everything will be fine. He was at the club for almost two months, leaving to meet clients regularly, with no incidents. Whoever corrupted his code, they were certain he was gone. "You should get some rest."

"Okay, " you surprised him, and yourself, turning onto your side and snuggling more against his body. His shock wore off quickly, adjusting his hold and relishing the closeness. 

You've never done this, to be held so securely. A part of you felt bad. This was one of his protocols, wasn't it? To offer physical comfort? Still, for three weeks, your mind has been on him constantly. All you could think was how to get him out, if he was alright or if you would save him in time. You couldn't even find solace in painting, instead staring at the one you did of him, having finished it and hung it on the wall. Now, he was here and he was safe. Maybe, just this once, you could be a little selfish. His warmth was quickly lulling you to sleep.

"I'm glad he found me, " Connor whispered a few moments later, knowing you wouldn't hear, "because I got to meet you."

 ..............

"Hi Daniel! My name is Conn-"

"-him and I kill you."

"-m not alive!"

"-tand that noise anymo-"

"Now it's my turn to decide."

Mission Accomplished

.............

Connor snapped out of stasis, taking in a few harsh breaths. Other than the blaring red of his LED bathing the room in it's brutal hue, the room was dark. While you had rolled over in his arms during your slumber, you were there, fast asleep. He could feel his body tremble, still under the effects of that... Dream? Nightmare? He had never experienced that before. It had all been so vivid. With the scant amount of memories he did have, he knew that he was witnessing his demise. Whatever it was, he had succeeded and, in the process, destroyed himself.

He gently pulled you a little closer to him and did not enter stasis for the rest of the night.

[sharkynado-blog]

meet gomorrah.

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe Interval: Clumsy

this is unbelievably self-indulgent because i swear i have written variations of this scene about 100000 times but who CARES! such is the joy of writing. i fell on my keyboard and this appeared so im posting it

-

Master was working on a big project. Had been for almost a week, now. He spent most of the daytime holed up in his office, and Rowe had taken it upon himself to make him cups of tea throughout the day. It was to please his Master, of course, and keep him calm. A stressed out Master often came up with particularly sadistic ways of letting off steam.

But Master never seemed too stressed when Rowe disturbed him. Every time Rowe knocked on the door and Master saw the mug in his hand, his face just lit up. Like he was surprised by it every time. Rowe had to admit that seeing his Master so happy made him feel happy. Master was always so kind to him, even though just because Rowe was bringing him tea, he was still troubling Master with his useless self.

"Rowe! Thank you so much!" he would say. And then, "Did you make one for yourself?" or "Here, have a biscuit. Dip it in your tea like this." or "Thanks for coming up, pal. Breaks up my boring day, seeing you."

It made Rowe feel good. He was making Master Tomas happy. He was being useful. At the end of every day Master would slope downstairs, giving Rowe a tired smile and stretching until his joints cracked.

Master’s house was warm, and Rowe’s bare feet made little noise as he padded forward to kneel at Master’s feet, to beg for Master to let him eat that night.

"Rowe- please, please pal, you don’t have to beg."

You always say that! thought Rowe, not budging from his submissive position on the floor. But I will, Master. Because I’m good. To show you that I can be a well-trained Pet.

Master didn’t seem to expect much of Rowe, he had realised. Rowe wasn’t surprised- he had been tossed out, after all- but he always did his best to prove to Master Tomas that he knew how to behave.

Rowe sometimes wondered if Master had wanted a disobedient Pet, to have the fun of breaking them again, but then if he wanted to hurt and break Rowe he could anyway. Master could do as he pleased, and Rowe was certainly far from a perfect Pet. In fact, he messed up all the time, but Master hardly seemed to notice. It confused him to no end.

"Of course you can eat, pal" Master said, and Rowe’s chest lifted with relief. He had done enough- he had been obedient, and useful, and Master was pleased with him. He was allowed to eat.

Dinner with Master Tomas was still incomprehensible, but Rowe thought he liked it. Master let him sit at the table, and eat when he ate, and he gave him proper food! Food that was warm and tasty and good enough for Master, since he always ate the same. Rowe promised himself he wouldn’t let it go to his head. He was still only a Pet, after all.

After, Rowe washed up. He liked it- it was simple, and easy to do correctly. That was- until his hands, slippery with soap, lost their grip on a plate and sent it crashing to the floor. The smash was sickeningly loud.

Rowe’s eyes widened as he stared at the shards scattered across the floor. He started trembling, all his training flashing before him. He was so bad. He had broken one of Master’s things. Breaking something of Master’s meant being punished. It meant being hurt and bleeding and sobbing for forgiveness that never came because how could such a useless, insolent Pet ever earn mercy?

He saw Master approaching him and backed away before he even realised what he was doing (trying to get away- that was an extra punishment), and time seemed to slow down as Master’s face twisted from mere surprise into something much worse. And then he was rushing towards Rowe and grabbing him roughly, swinging him off the ground and pinning him to his chest. Rowe cried out in fear- it had all happened so fast!- and went limp in Master’s arms.

. . .

"Whoa, there," Tomas breathed, hoisting Rowe off the floor and away from the sharp pieces of ceramic. "I’m sorry for grabbing you, pal. You were about to step right on it and your feet are bare."

Rowe didn’t reply, which didn’t surprise him. It unnerved Tomas every time he felt Rowe go pliable against him, even though he knew he couldn’t help it. He had who-knew-how-many years of training under his belt, all telling him that if he slipped up, made any mistake at all, he’d be beaten until he’d learnt his lesson.

It made his heart ache, to think about it. That for Rowe, one little plate was worth more than him. Master’s possessions are not to be broken- unless that possession is a human being.

He sat down on the armrest of the sofa, Rowe still held tightly against him- too tightly, Tomas suddenly thought. What he could interpret as comforting Rowe would certainly interpret as entrapment.

"You’re okay, you’re okay," Tomas said, gently lowering Rowe’s skinny legs to the floor. Rowe collapsed to his knees, about to scramble away but then seeming to realise that that would only get him into more trouble. Or so he thought. Tomas wished he could snap his fingers and make Rowe’s conditioning melt away.

"I’m s-s-sorry M-Master, I’m s-so-orry p-p-please f-f-forgive me," he whimpered, tripping over every word and shaking like a leaf. "I w-won’t d-d-d-do it again I p-promise, I-I.. I-"

"It’s okay, it’s okay," Tomas soothed. "Shhh."

Rowe fell silent immediately, and Tomas kicked himself, because of course he would. He realised Rowe was crying, big fat tears sliding down his cheeks, and he was clearly doing everything to not make a sound.

"I mean- you can cry. You can speak. But you don’t have to beg."

Rowe sobbed miserably. No begging meant he just had a very scared Pet kneeling before him, waiting for his punishment. God, he wasn’t very good at this. How do you get through to someone who associates the smallest accident with unimaginable pain? Try to use language he can understand, I guess.

"Did you mean to smash the plate?" he asked gently. Rowe’s eyes widened and he flinched violently.

''No! No, n-n-no M-Master please no I d-didn’t, I didn’t I swear, I sw-wear please b-b-believe me, I w-wouldn’t-"

"I believe you," he said. "I believe you. So it was an accident, yes?" Rowe nodded, swallowing thickly through his panic. "Can you say that back to me, pal?"

"It was- was an- an accident, M-Master."

"Okay. I don’t punish accidents." I don’t punish, full stop. "It wasn’t your fault, so you haven’t done anything rude, or naughty, or bad. Okay?"

"B-But the plate…"

"It’s just a plate. I have plenty more."

He could see Rowe slowly working this out. It must be hard, hearing something that went so entirely against everything he knew.

"Just a plate," Rowe murmured.

"Exactly, pal."

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tagging the T&R crew but as always, let me know if you’d only be tagged in main chapters! <3

@sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @ghostcomit @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lave-e @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly