#tiny caretaker

[beddybites]

tiny 21 trio !! mitsuri and baby obanai

assignment for class— had to color a sketch and i got carried away

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 169

Danny is from a world where everyone has wings, even if most have long since lost the ability to fly. Something about loading and aspect ratio, wings being too small, body too heavy, now mostly used as display, whatever. 

It doesn’t matter even if he had blueprints from when he was like six of a jetpack to help fly. It won’t work anyway and hey, he has his ghost form! Which uh, might be perhaps, affecting his wings which were maybe sort of scorched black and practically down to the bone thanks to the accident. 

It doesn’t matter, he swears. Though he’s admittedly relieved to see the new feathers growing in are different from Dan’s angry sunset. Even if they’re not even supposed to be able to grow back. Alright, this is fine, no one is going to notice! It’s not like everyone knows about the poor Fenton kid whose wings were absolutely destroyed thanks to an accident! It’s fine. 

He’s not flying in a half-panic towards the Far Frozen while crying because his wings are coming back and he’s so scared. He didn’t panic and instantly fled the moment Jazz pointed them out while changing the bandages. 

He definitely didn’t trip over something while wiping away said tears and blacking out from all the stress and all of his problems that he definitely mentioned to someone and isn’t keeping a secret. Definitely. 

Hawkwoman and Hawkman would like everyone to know that neither of them were expecting a very small child to be spat out of the villain of that week’s machine that should definitely not be a portal. A very small child, maybe nine or ten, with a multitude of concerning wounds both old and fresh. Which isn’t even beginning to touch on the wings. 

Feathered, like baby down despite the gnarled scars, unlike their own metallic, with the beginning of tiny specklings like stars amidst the darker fuzz peeking from the wounded flesh. 

Who?! Who dared?! It’s (at least to the forever reincarnating duo) a literal baby! They still have down! Tiny baby fuzz! Was it the portal?! Oh this villain is going to taste their maces for causing this if that’s the case! 

The rest of the Justice League would honestly like to know what just happened and are honestly unsure on if they should stop the two…

[lunarharp]

..polly pocket au.. (<- a type of doll.)

[whump-galaxy]

Imagining a character getting like, beat up and thrown on the ground in the woods, fearfully looking up at their attackers…and then a massive werewolf steps over them, growling so low and loud that it vibrates through the whumpee’s bones….

The attackers are scared off and the werewolf turns to the whumpee.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Content Warnings: tiny whump, faerie whump, caught in a storm, injury, broken bones, rescue (seen as capture from his POV), caretaking

Author's Notes: based on this idea!

----

Strong gusts of wind and rain toss Shae about like a leaf. It is dizzying, and happens too quickly for him to get his bearings or try grasping to hold onto something. He has no way to steer himself away from the human property he is being carried toward.

The wind whips Shae's body into the side of a shed, with a whistling sound that drowns out the sound of his startled scream when his shoulder hits solid wood hard enough to snap bone. His vision fades in and out of inky darkness while he remains pinned to the wall by the force of the wind.

After several long minutes suspended like that, the wind settles momentarily. Shae drops heavily and lands on a pile of chopped wood inside. He hits the topmost log and slides off, tumbling down the pile and racking up a collection of scrapes and splinters, and onto the muddy ground. He hurts terribly, but at least he is still. At least he can breathe. The pile provides some shield from the wind, and the mud keeps him anchored to the ground. Shae closes his eyes and gives into the pull of unconsciousness.

-

Overnight it is dry, and the strong sun in the morning helps dry up most of last night's rain. Shae still lies where he fell on the ground beside a shed. He has been drifting in and out of sleep since dawn, resisting returning to whatever awaits him. But once pain creeps into his senses he can no avoid the truth.

Groaning, the faerie tries to sit up, but can't. He tries again, and when he still meets resistance, he tries just wiggling a bit...and also can't do that. The mud beneath him has dried and hardened. He is stuck.

Panic grips his little heart. While he is not exactly eager to move his aching body, being vulnerable like this so close to humans - and their pets - can't possibly end well. And even if he isn't discovered, the weather grows colder every day, and - and how is he supposed to get food, water?!

He is pulled from his thoughts when not far away a door slams and booted footsteps approach. Shae can feel the ground vibrate as they get dangerously close. Pulse pounding, eyes shut tight, he only hopes the mud camouflages him and he will go unseen.

There are dull clunking sounds, the human removing logs from the pile. One slips and falls from the top and rolls a little, landing by Shae's arm. Shae hears the rustling of the human's clothes and his slow breaths as he crouches to pick it up. Try as he may, he can't stop shaking. It gives him away.

"What the-?"

The human recoils and nearly drops the wood. He sets it down carefully in front of the larger pile and gets onto his hands and knees, peering closer.

"Well I'll be damned," he mumbles. "I've heard of you, but never seen one in person..." He reaches out a finger and pokes one of Shae's tiny feet. It twitches and the human recoils. "You're alive!"

Not for long, Shae can't help but think miserably. Just from the darkness cast over him by the human's shadow and what little Shae can see of him with half his face pressed to the ground, this human is huge, his hands massive. In the faerie's experience, hands like that tend to squeeze and crush, whether they mean to or not.

With the fingernails of one of those hands, the human starts to chip away at the dry mud caked on and around him. Shae goes tense, fearing he will be nicked by the nail or pressed by the fingers, but other than a few brushes, they avoid him. Once enough of the dirt is loosened, he finds he can breathe more easily and even turn onto his side. If there was ever a time to flee, it would be now, but he feels tired and heavy and even the threat of capture can't get his stiff limbs to move.

"Alright...here we go..." The man lays one hand flat, palm up, and uses his other to roll Shae onto it. As Shae rolls onto the side that slammed into the shed, pain shoots down his shoulder and he feebly cries out.

"Ow, ow," he whimpers, holding his shoulder to find it at an odd angle and something jutting beneath his skin that shouldn't be, the skin itself darkly bruised. He bites his lip to stop from speaking. Tears pour down his cheeks onto the human's palm.

"You must have been caught in that storm last night. It did a number on you, huh?" The human stands and holds the faerie in his open hand, gently rolling him onto his back, relieving the pressure on his broken shoulder. Shae is battered all over, but the break is the worst of it, the pain that distracts from all other pains. "Poor little guy." With both hands, the human cups Shae's limp body and holds it to his sturdy, flannel-covered chest.

He smells like pine and mint and campfires. It's almost pleasant, but Shae has also learned that humans' pleasant features rarely prevent them from doing harm. Still...the air is cold, but the man is warm, and Shae curls against him despite his better instincts. The human's thumb strokes up and down his back with an unexpectedly light touch. He carries Shae into his house.

Inside it's warm and pleasant-smelling, too. Some of the tension in his body eases just from being in out of the cold air. Still, he's terrified. Shae hides his tearstained face in the fabric of the human's shirt, mumbling pleas for...for he doesn't even know what. Gentleness? Mercy? A quick death?

The man brings him to a dining room, the table of which is covered in various half-finished projects. He does his woodworking out in the shed, but brings his work in here to paint or build things, a bad habit that leaves his place a mess, but he doesn't get enough visitors to care much.

He lays the faerie on a folded kitchen towel, a soft surface Shae did not expect. Shae groans and holds his shoulder, finally blinking his eyes open to stare at the ceiling. His vision is blurry and his stomach churns, a mix of pain and fear and lingering dizziness after being the wind's plaything the day before.

The human moves around the table, clearing a space on which to work. His heavy steps rattle the table and Shae is reminded just how vulnerable he is right now. The man could kill him in a single blow if he chose to, though if that is the plan, why hasn't he done it already?

Shae remains still and waits. For a few minutes, the man is gone, and he tries to relax, to sleep, even. But returning footsteps startle him awake. Shae coughs a few times and groans again. The man sets some things on the table and stands over him.

"What are - are you-" he tries to ask what the man will do to him, but is trembling so hard he can barely get the words out. A massive hand reaches for him and Shae is powerless to stop it. But it does not grab or hit or press or any of the other horrible things Shae anticipates. It slips beneath him and sits him up, and remains there, providing a warm nook for Shae to sink back into when he is too weak to stay sitting up without help.

With his other hand, the human removes Shae's shirt so he can examine his injured shoulder. That hurts, no matter how careful he is. His calloused fingertips brush the bruised skin and Shae sobs and covers his face with his hand so he doesn't have to watch. The human mutters to himself, fingers closing on either side of the shoulder, and he gives the slightest squeeze.

The bone pops back into place. Shae's whole body spasm's once and pain knocks his breath away, mouth open in a silent scream behind his hand. His breath returns and he sobs raggedly.

"Shh...it's alright...the worst part is over..." The soothing words wash over him but don't stick. Shae can't stop crying, can't stop shaking, he hurts so much, he's so, so scared...

Something brushes his cheek and he gasps, eyes flying open. It is the human's thumb, the warm pad of it brushing against Shae's face, again with such surprising gentleness. The man gingerly wipes at his tears and pets his hair and Shae is stunned calm. He hiccups and rubs at his eyes.

"I need you to stay still for me, okay?"

Shae doesn't have much choice. He closes his eyes while the man dabs something cool onto his shoulder. Whatever it is, it takes effect in seconds, numbing the area. Shae gasps again, this time with relief. More tension eases from him, if involuntarily. He bites his lip, trying to remain calm as the human wraps something around his arm and shoulder. That part hurts, but once it is secured it actually feels...not good, maybe, but better. It feels like it could heal.

But why?

He is too afraid to ask. The man continues to dote on him - plucking splinters from his skin and bandaging the bleeding spots, cleaning up scrapes, cleaning the dirt from him, giving him water with a dropper. His movements are patient and skilled. He handles Shae with care. When he's done, the human lowers him back onto the towel and drapes another over him like a blanket. Shae has calmed enough to become drowsy. Even if this is some precursor to worse things, for now he gives in to fragile hope. He falls asleep to the feeling of a fingertip stroking his cheek.

[whump-blog]

Whump Art 10

Caretaker feeding pieces of apple to an injured tiny Whumpee.

[aspergirl2022]

Tiny Pet prompt

I wanted to write a story with a giant and their tiny pet, some kind of Giant Caretaker receiving Tiny Whumpee as a present but since I can’t put in on the paper I will change my story into a prompt.

In Caretaker's society only the wealthiest can afford Tiny pets. Caretaker is one of them, their family had a Tiny pet when they were a kid but Caretaker remember that their Tiny always looked sad and cried a lot, even more after Caretaker's Mom cut their tongue.

Caretaker never wanted a Tiny pet but their parent decided it was the perfect gift for their beloved child who just became an adult and lived on their own. So one day when Caretaker come home from work they find a cage with a note from their parent on it, inside of it there is a Tiny pet named Whumpee. Whumpee is dead scared of the Giants but Caretaker is decided to show them they’re not like their fellows.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Moonbloom

Time for Nightmare to finish up some loose ends! Don't worry :3 it is a good one in my opinion <3

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

We good? Lets go! (also be ready because it is a long one.)

*------------------*

Nightmare looks around their garden but still can't spot Killer. Maybe he went to their nest? Seems weird as Nightmare thought he would be working on the grapes at the moment.

Still. Best search there. He walks back towards the house as he weaves between the grapes and vines growing. The first layer is looking amazing and beautiful!

He gets to the set of stairs and walks back into the house. Finding Killer is easy as he is laying in their nest watching something on the TV. A fan aimed at him to help keep him cool in the summer heat.

Killer blinks and grins "OUr little nightlight!" and Nightmare gets grabbed and snuggled close. Nightmare hums happily as he leans into the snuggles for a moment.

Killer grins as he lounges "Come watch westerns with me! It iwll be fun." and he grins.

Nightmare glances at the tv for a moment, it shows a cowboy on the back of a horse with the show having this yellowish colour over it. Nightmare hums "later?"

Killer grins "Sure. What do you want to do now?"

Nightmare rubs his hands before muttering "can... can you do soemthing for me?"

Killer nods "sure! what is it?"

Nightmare smiles as he leans against Killer before he asks his request. It had been on his mind for a while now and with him fixing Dani and Ellie's tree farm... He thinks this may actually work.

--------

Grillby cleans the bar and sighs. Another long night after an even longer day.

His club is profitable and it keeps others safe but he does not enjoy owning it. Grillby had always wanted to own his own business but not like this.

Sadly this is where their fate had let them.

He finishes with the bar and goes about checking the seating area and dancing area. Finding some very dubious stains. A deeper sigh but he gets to work.

He tries not to let his mind wander as he works. It is better to focus or the ever present heat that is now just a part of life.

He finally finishes up his normal round as he leaves his building. His flame flickering a bit brighter at the sight of Sans.

Sans notices him and grins "Sup Grills!"

Grillby is very lucky that even after everything and how everyone spoke about hi that Sans still speaks to him. He knows this.

They walk together as the move to waterfall. Sans takes out the umbrella and hands it to him wordlessly. Grillby takes it and the two continue walking "Thank you again for coming with me."

Sans grins at him "Hey no worries. I always love hanging out with you~" and he gives a wink and sweet smile.

It is ruined by someone whistling loudly "Hey Sans! Down to fuck later? I can show you a real boner!!" loud laughter after.

Sans just shoots them a look and glances up and down before smiling a bit sharper but still oh so sweet "Hon I don't think you have the stamina to keep it up or do anything near pleasing~ Maybe best practise a few rounds first." and the walk pass them.

No real conversation after that as the peaceful mood had been ruined.

Grillby misses Sans. Sans used to go to his club and dance there. Spend time there. It had been something Grillby honestly enjoyed. The heat that went through him felt more real when it was focused and about Sans. It had been honest as Grillby had always felt that way.

Sans had throw his whole mindset into dancing and other work at his club when the experiment failed. Sans sadly took the burn of most of that failure even if there had been more scientists at work on an artificial heat to help their reproduction.

Sadly Sans had been the best known among everyone and so ended up being the black sheep of it all.

Grillby had just been happy to have Sans near even when everything changed drastically... Eventually his inaction got to much and Sans left after one too many comments.

Girllby still misses him daily.

Maybe another reason why he had tried so hard to do right for that tiny child. A tiny skeleton looking so young. Grillby tried to not let it interfer but it had been so hard. He had just wanted to do right and something for once.

He still wonders how that tiny child is doing. He hadn't told another soul. Too afraid what some heat affected monsters would do.

"Grillby? Is something wrong?"

Grillby looks back at Sans and sees those pink eye lights watch him. Grillby always gets lost in that face and those eyes.

Grillby had come close to confessing what happened that night to Sans. So close. but he is afraid that Sans will just be disappointed in him. For not getting the child to a safe location. to hide it from him for so long. Grillby thinks this underground will actually be hell if Sans stopped talking to him.

A loud whistle and Grillby and Sans both look over annoyed. Only for Sans to freeze and Grillby can only assume it is shock. BEfore that is another skeleton. yet they are dressed strange.

Well strange for them.

They are in constant heat after all. Meaning everyone feels hot and too hot all the time. Everyone loves wearing and showing off their bodies. It is why Grillby is wearing his minimal outfit. It is why Sans is wearing the shortest shorts possible and that little top as he keeps his coat low and barely on.

This skeleton? Is wearing shorts but they cover his legs until his knees. he is wearing sneakers to finish that side up. Upwards? A black turtle neck, a sweater version at that.

Another very strange thing about them? The black tar like tears streaming down their cheeks. The completely empty sockets. and well, the out and proud soul is a very bold choice. Even for the monsters who like to attract all the attention. They are grinning widely at them.

Grillby blinks but suddenly feels Sans grab his hand and pull him back. Sans has yet to look away from the other skeleton but... but that look? That... that is fear... What? Who?

Grillby frowns "Sans?"

Sans shoots him an anxious look before glancing around at all the water. he pushes the umbrella fully in his arms "You need to go grillby." their is desperation in his voice.

Grillby does not feel the need to go. in matter of fact. if this person freaks Sans out of all mosnters? That means this person is dangerous and Grillby is not leaving his friend alone. He instead looks at the other skeleton.

Who is just... standing there? Grinning widely as they.... swing? They lean back and forth as they swing their arms slightly to keep the motion going. moving their weight from the toes of their feet to the very back. completely relaxed.

Sans glares at him and hisses "I am serious. Go."

Grillby just looks at the other and shakes his head "no."

Sans opens his mouth to speak again but the other speaks up "You two love birds done? Like. I can wait but i kinda got places to be and stuff." they grin as they lean on their fist. Almost like a thinking position but instead of the fist under the chin they lean against it with their cheek.

Sans glares "Why are you here?"

Grillby frowns at his friend "Sans who is this?"

Sans glances at him unsure before glaring back at the other.

This seems to have been a sign the other was waiting for as they just, bounce and skip over. The thrust out their hand "The name is Killer!"

Grillby stands frozen. Because he feels it. What the other sends out. This... this monster...

Grillby can't help it and sends a check.

The information just makes it worse.

This monster has a lot of LOVE.

Killer pouts "Tough crowd." he pulls his arm back and crosses his arms.

Sans glares at him and hisses "You are not allowed to be here. Leave."

Grillby has no doubt that Sans knows just how dangerous Killer is, Sans seems to actually know this guy but... but how?

Killer snorts and waves Sans off "Oh calm down I am not even causing trouble. Anyway. I kinda am here for a thing so cool your jets."

Sans just crosses his arms "I will ends a message to the Stars. I got an emergency vial and I will break it."

Killer raises a brow and smirks sharper "Then I won't be able to complete my job here Lavender..." then he leans closer "Or should I say... Ace?" and he winks "Must suck to have such conflicting needs."

Grillby doesn't think as he pulls Sans behind him. That... that is a very private secret. A soft admission that Sans once entrusted to Grillby. Why Sans hates this heat so much. How he doesn't even desire sex or want it. Yet this heat makes him need and crave it. It messes with his mind.

Grillby glares at Killer and Killer grins as he shrugs "eh. Not my fault he can't take what he dishes out." he grins wider "You know! Becuase he fucks people even when he doesn't desire people- wow!" Killer dodges the fireball Grillby shot at him.

Killer looks at where Grillby's magic attack his the ground "Man! Is it good I picked this spot to search you out! Could have been a hazard if a fire spread in an underground." he looks over "Anyway. I came with a message."

Grillby is about to say he doesn't care when Killer speaks the next sentence.

"From your little friend in the alleyway."

Grillby freezes again. Sans asks him what the other meant but Grillby can't. He can't believe it.

Killer nods with an understanding look "Ah yes. What do you mean? How could that be? In that case. Just so you know. While he liked the pulled beef a lot his favourite of the selection was the pork." and he grins.

The food. He had given the other food. And aparently the little one actually ate it all. his arm slowly falls to his side.

Killer grins and nods "I know right? anyway. I am here because of that." and he shrugs.

Sans frowns "What have you guys been doing here?!"

Killer sighs "calm down lavender. This doesn't actually concern you you know? You are just part of this conversation because you were near him at the time." and he shrugs.

Sans frowns and looks to the side for a moment "I... heard some stuff... from Dream-"

Killer pulls out a knife and aims it at Sans. Sans freezes and Killer grins. Girllby frowns but then sees the drop of blood on the knife edge and the very small cut on Sans's cheek.

Killer grins sharply "None of that now Lavender. I am here with a small mission. No need to include either the gang or the stars. This is a matter of repaying something owned. Calm now? Eithr you stay quiet or... well." he grins sharper "You want to test out how quickly a reset happens to fix a... missing link?"

Sans freezes as he shoots Grillby a nervous glance. Grillby is just very confused. what are these two talking about "Sans?" or Lavender? Why does Killer keep calling Sans that?

Killer stares for a while longer and Sans evneutally sighs and nods. Going silent but not leaving his side.

Killer hums and smiles brightly again. the threatening and freezing air around them disappears "That is what i thought!" is this what LOVE does to a monster? Grillby knew it was dangerous but this is on another level.

Killer sighs "Anyway. your alleyway friend wanted to thank you for your assistance. Which is why I am here. To repay that favour."

Grillby can't keep it in anymore "is he safe? Is he with his family again?" he remembers the poor child saying his mother was gone "With his dad? other parent?"

This is when Sans stares at him in shock and mutters a "what?"

Grillby looks anxiously at Killer but Killer just raises s brow and makes the 'go ahead' motion.

Grillby thinks it over before finally saying it "A long while ago. More than a year..." almost a year and a half honestly "I... i had a very curious visitor. a tiny monster dressed in a large hoody. but... it turned out to be a child... a skeleton one."

Sans gasps and thinks for a moment before shooting Killer a look of disbelieve.

Killer just grins and makes the 'zip it' motion.

Sans shallows "you mean those rumours..."

Killer glares as he crosses his arms "people need to learn to keep their large mouths shut." he turns back to Grillby himself "As to answer your question. he is fine. he is back at home with his parents. perfectly safe and healthy."

Grillby feels a deep relieve and lets out a sigh "Thank you... I ahd been worried... I assume you... you got him home?"

Killer blinks at him before shrugging as he stuffs his hands into his pockets "euh. pretty much."

Grillby can't help but smile. Maybe... maybe this monster isn't that bad? he cared enough to bring a child home to his family. he cared enough to help get the child a message back to Grillby. That must mean something. Sans must have made the same conclusion as he grins and crosses his arms. "Didn't realise that you guys now did babysitting."

Killer shoots him a glare "Don't test your luck Lavender." he sighs louder "anyway! Can we now finally get to the point i have been trying to get to?! The present?" and he waits.

Grillby and Sans share a look and both nod.

Killer huffs "finally! Anyway!" he messes with his pocked and out comes a full flower. it is a very pale purple with four petals. the petals are kinda cresent shaped and point upwards. It is small but nice enough.

Killer nods and marches over "Okay. here you go. Yes you can safely touch it as long as you don't want to burn it." Girllby carefully takes the flower over. That is when it hits him. the flower is the same colour as the small child's eyes had been.

Sans looks at it curiously and tilts his skull "that is... new?"

Killer waves it off "Yeah he is sitll workshopping the name. anyway. hold i got a list for this shit." he makes a victorious noise as he pulls out a piece of paper and reads "okay. okay... lets see. growing and spreading. As long as there is room and the flower is unbothered it will grow copies of itself. so it doens't need water."

Killer snorts as he looks up "Goot news you don't need to handle water for this flower. but yeah just kinda. I dunno. find a spot no one visits and plant sit if you want a shit load of them.but if you don't care about spreading it a lot lot you can just kinda put it in a pot or something."

Grillby looks down at the small flower and smiles. He is so thankful for this wonderful gift. a reminder that he at least managed to help one person.

Killer keeps looking at his little list "okay! So. One petal a person is enough but takes a few days to take effect. For instant but temporary effects just make tea."

Sans blinks "what is the effect?"

Killer opens his mouth. frowns and closes it. looks abck at his list. then shrugs at them "I was not told. I knew we were forgetting something. but. euh." he shrugs again "can you blame him? He is six."

Sans makes a small noice as he looks excited as he glances at Grillby "You saw a six year old babybones?"

Grillby nods and Sans sighs wishfully "I am so jealous. so so jealous."

Killer grins and shrugs "bet. anyway. lets see. oh the last point. The flowers will regrow the petals but can't grow more flowers if they are healing. so if you want a lot of petals you will need to grow flowers first." he grins at them "and that is it. with that done. bye!" he waves nad turns around. He walks back into the shadows and Girllby is left with a small flower in his hands. so fragile and small but beautiful.

Sans looks at him curiously "Want to get a nice large pot and plant the little plant? get more started?"

Grillby nods and they go in a slightly different direction. They get the right supplies and quickly go back to Grillby's house.

Grillby watches as Sans plants the flower for him. Grillby still worried his flames may harm to tiny plant. He just didn't wish to risk it. it takes very little time and they sit on the couch together for a moment.

Grillby can't sotp it anymore "Who even was that?"

Sans frowns as he srhugs "jsut... someone i know...."

Grillby frowns more as he feels that Sans isn't telling him what is wrong "Why did he keep calling you Lavender?" that is a new name. Sans has been called lust by others before, partly as insult because snas play in making the ever present heat. but also as comment on his looks and how desired he was.

Sans shrugs and mutters "I dunno... prefered that over the alternative..."

Grillby frowns "Sans... what..." he deosn't even know what he wants to ask.

Sans just shakes his skull "it... it doesnt matter at the moment... I am sorry you got so close to being hurt..." he rubs his arm and looks away with guilt.

Grillby hums "not your fault." and lets it go for now. his sight finds the flower. curiousity gets the best of him "Want to test those petals with me?"

Sans laughs before glancing at the flower "sure... petal or tea?"

Grillby hums and stares at the flower. feeling a bit reckless "lets just do a whole petal. That way it is done and no need to question it anymore."

Sans looks thoughtful before nodding. Sans pulls off two petals with care before handing one of grillby.

Grillby feels the petal. it is soft and seems fragile but it doesn't even seem to notice his flames. Sans grins and winks at him before both of them just eat the petal.

It tastes strange... slightly of grapes of all flavours. Grillby doesn't taste any of the drugs he is familiar with and he made sure to test those when he was safe. Just to make srue which flavours to not include in food and drinks. make sure nothing can get masked by his things.

They sit together but nothing happens.

Sans hums "the note of the kid did mention that it would take a while. Talking about that." he turns to him adn smiles "kid?"

Grillby chuckles but happily, and finally, shares the story of that day. How sweet the young child had looked but how afraid he had been.

It is nice.

-------

Grillby wakes up the same as always. he makes breakfast as he always does. But then he realises it. what he feels.

or better said. what he doesn't feel.

Grillby is in such shock that he actually drops the plate he had been holding.

It is gone.

the heat within his soul.

It is gone.

He doesn't think as he rushes out of his house. He throws open the door and gets hit by the cold of the air.

It is cold!

Also it is VERY cold!

He grabs his jacket before rushing to Sans's house. He gets there and knocks on the door. loudly.

a grumble and a disgruntled Papyrus opens the door. Papyrus shoots him a look. tired and slightly knowing "Sans is asleep after working last night." he gives him a pointed look.

Grillby still isn't sure how Papyrus figured out about Grillby's interest, but it may have to do something with Grillby always giving Sans the center stage and best hours and let sans keep most of the tips he earned. Now that Grillby thinks about it he was rather obvious.

Grillby shakes his head "It is nothing like that. I need to talk to him. I know it is very early and i apologise."

Papyrus looks annoyed but lets him in wiht a loud sigh. Papyrus orders him to wait there for a moment before moving upstairs to Sans's room.

Grillby waits as he tries to ignore the very pointed decoration. his soul still blissfully cool towards it all. even if he can smell the familiar scent of Sans's perfume.

It doens't take long for Papyrus and Sans to walk downstairs. Sans looks adorable disheveled as he joins him on the couch. Sans is still so pretty even without all the make up and short cut clothes.

Ppayrus sends Grillby another look before loudly proclaiming that he will be making breakfast.

Sans shoots him a tired look "Not that i don't enjoy visits... but we don't really have the same working hours anymore Grills."

Grillby shakes his head and tries to focus on the now "Sans. please. focus and tlel me I am not the only one here."

Sans frowns at him as he tilts his skull.

Grillby keeps staring at him "Notice anything gone? something... burning that is no longer burning?"

Sans stares at him before snorting "Is this the set up for a pun? I mean i love a good pun but you didn't need to wake me up-" he stops mid sentence. sockets wide as one hand slowly raises up to touch his sternum "it is gone."

They share a look and Sans rushes to his room "Give me a moment to get dressed!"

Grillby nods before quickly shouting after him "Make sure to grab a jacket!"

Papyrus shoots them a weird look from his kitchen and Grillby has no way to explain it just quite yet.

Sans rushes back downstairs, with a jacket on thank everything. They quickly say goodbye to Papyrus and rush out together. They run back to Grillby's house as Sans speaks "The flower?"

Grillby answers immediantly "I think it had to be! That is the only thing different about us compared to everyone."

They get back and find the garden pot they had planted the flower in four days ago. It took almost two days for the flower to recover fully from the picked petals but over the next two days the one flower had grown into four.

Sans stares at him in shcok "this... this can fix everything..."

Grillby nods before frowning at his tiny pot "We can maybe plant three of these four somewhere else. with more room to really let them spread. I can keep the last one safe just in case."

Sans nods as he takes out the garden tools he had left here last time and gets to work "great idea. I remember a cavern in the forest which no one really visits. we can plant them there and let them spread in peace."

Grillby nods as he watches Sans work. this could fix everything.

----

Killer strokes the small skull leaning against his sternum as he watches tv. the western is nearing its conclusion as the hero talks about needing to go as the open fields call to him. the main lady is heartbroken and begs him to stay. usual stuff.

Killer looks at Nightmare "What was the flower anyway?"

Nightmare yawns and shoots him a look "should fix the issue there." and he snuggles close.

Killer grins and holds the baby close. euh. whatever. Not his problem. his problem is just making sure the baby is happy and content.

*-----------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

Remember how Nightmare is now the god of restoration? You can push that concept VERY far :3

If Fate finds out Nightmare is messing with universes and stuff like this she/he/they will be pissed.

Anyway!!

Baby repayed his debt!

[bee-sidebranch]

was messing around with this slug design, i'm not sure whether i want the machanics or biocomps to be more prevelant

if i change it up at all i'll just prioritize the different aspects in two different designs for the diverging storylines i have in mind

[whumpthefuck]

I just had an idea.

Tiny who is outside, it's raining hard, they're exhausted and freezing. They stumble across a large garage, and giant's clothes, it's dirty and worn, and seems to have been discarded a while ago, but they don't care. They dry off and find a nice pocket to cozy up in. It's not long before they fall asleep.

Unknown to Tiny is that the clothing wasn't abandoned. It's owned by a giant that works as a construction worker, their clothing is constantly dirty and wears down fast, giving it the illusion of being abandoned.

The giant puts on their clothes for the day, and it isn't until the Giant is at work that the Tiny wakes up. Terrified out of their wits, they try to find a way out, unfortunately they manage to fall out almost landing in a running piece of machinery. Giant out of habit manages to catch Tiny to both of their suprise.

Maybe Giant wants to let Tiny go, but they realize Tiny is in horrible shape, they're fragile, exhausted, and clearly are in need of some TLC. Maybe Giant reluctantly takes on the responsibility of nursing Tiny back to health.

Just thinking about how terrified Tiny would be at this dirty rugged Giant keeping them hostage, and the Giant wanting nothing more than to help Tiny but struggling to convince them that they don't want to hurt them, they just want to help.

[the-broken-pen]

Please write a chef! Villian who adores to cook for their people, literally. They even cook for their sidekick and their henchmen. But never ever for their oh so devilishly beautiful and just as infuriating hero. (whom they have SWORN to never cook for)

But once when hero's parent falls ill, villian is the one who cooks for them so they can get better. However, they are unable finish all of the food, thus ask their kid (the hero) to have the leftovers

Hero, (who unbeknownst to villian was literally starving for days as they were busy) loves the little bits food they had and when they tell that to their Villian, their faux cold demeanor breaks down completely..... And fluff happens next?????

I really hope you don't mind writing on this! Cooking for someone is willingly wanting to nourish them. I just wanted to see that in an enemies to lovers dynamic...

“You’re looking less terrible,” the villain noted as soon as they stepped into the living room. The hero blinked up at them owlishly from the couch, a mangled crochet project clutched in their hands. It was all so horribly mundane.

“Thanks,” the hero said dryly. “Just what I needed to hear.”

Truly, though, it hadn’t been a dig. The hero did look slightly better: there was color in their cheeks, that exhausted sheen had vanished from their eyes. Their hands weren’t shaking around their crochet hook.

“Your mom is out of the hospital?”

A shadow of that tiredness passed over the hero’s face. It was gone in a blink.

“If you don’t already know the answer to that, I'll be disappointed.”

The villain raised their hands, drifting through the living room. They peered down at a childhood photo of the hero, all toothy grin and smeared ice cream. “Just making conversation.”

The hero sighed.

“She’s home on bed rest, now,” the hero said, quietly, like they were trying not to wake her up. “She’s doing better, she is, it’s just not…” they trailed off.

“She’s still sick,” the villain supplied. The hero nodded when the villain turned back around.

“I don’t know why I expected her to be better as soon as she came home.” The hero sounded so small, in that moment. Like they were still that little kid in their childhood photo album, and not someone who saved the city on the daily.

The villain shrugged. “Because you’re human. Human’s don’t like it when the people they love are hurt.”

“Maybe,” the hero agreed.

The villain slid their gaze over the room once more, snagging on an empty tupperware container balanced on the edge of the coffee table.

Their tupperware container.

Which shouldn’t have come as a surprise, exactly. As soon as they had gotten word that the hero’s mother was in the hospital–which had been as soon as it happened–they had gathered a week's worth of meals and sent it over. And then, they had done it again the next week, and it became just one of the things the villain did. They cooked for themself, their sidekick, their henchmen, and now, the hero’s mother.

They knew the hero’s mother had figured it out, but she had known better than to say anything. The villain didn’t swear on much, but they had sworn to never cook for the hero. Even their mother was cutting it a little bit too close to that.

The hero followed their gaze to the container and blushed.

“Sorry, I meant to clean that up–”

The villain cocked their head. 

The hero stammered for a moment in the resulting silence, “Someone’s been sending my mom food. She can’t always finish it, because she’s…” they trailed off, like they couldn’t bear to say the word “sick”. “She gives me the leftovers,” they finally finished.

The villain had nothing to say to that.

“Hm.”

“Yeah, um,” the hero looked down, tossing aside their terribly failing project. “Normally I get by just fine, you know, I’m not incompetent,” the hero added quickly, like they were worried the villain would judge them for it.

The hero swallowed, and again, that yawning and endlessly exhausted look loomed over their face. The villain wanted to never, ever see it again. “But there was patrol, and then the agency wanted me to do publicity, and then I was with my mom at the hospital whenever I wasn’t working and I just–I’m just really tired.”

Seeing it on the hero’s face, in their posture as they slumped against any available surface when they had even a second to rest, in the bruises from hits they should have been able to avoid easily, was one thing.

But hearing them admit it–

“Get up,” the villain said. Something inside them felt raw at the look on the hero’s face.

“Why?”

“I’m making you food,” the villain said easily. It was anything but.

The hero froze, a deer in headlights, before glancing down at the tupperware and back to the villain.

“You’re the one sending the food.”

Even sleep deprived out of their mind, their hero had always been quick.

“And the one cooking it,” the villain added, and the hero gaped at them.

“Why,” they managed a moment later, hand clutching into the armrest of the couch like it was the only thing keeping them upright.

“I like your mother,” the villain picked up the tupperware, hero watching them the entire time. “And you’re not entirely terrible.”

The hero barked out a surprised laugh.

“I’m not entirely terrible,” they repeated.

“No, you’re not,” the villain agreed. “Now, get up.”

The hero got up.

Before the hero could do something stupid, like ask again what they were doing, or a trip over their own discarded crochet, the villain hushed them.

“I’m making you food,” they said, and the hero’s mouth closed. The villain sighed, looping their hand around the hero’s wrist. “Now shut up, and let me take care of you.”

The hero looked at them like they had never had someone do that. Like they hadn’t even considered the possibility that they might need help as much as the people they took care of did.

The villain had enough of their idiot face, turning to drag them to the kitchen.

The hero went.

That terrible, awful look never showed up on the hero’s face again.

The villain made sure of that.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 293

Jason takes a deep breath. He takes a deep breath, in for ten seconds, out for eight, and just takes a minute before looking again. Nope, there’s still the strange quartet of orbs in the box of what should be stolen weapons (What, the government had enough, honestly) that gave his workers the heebie-jeebies. 

Which is not the vibe he gets from them. In fact, he’s actually kind of concerned with how much he has to beat the Pit back with how quickly it lurches to latch onto the… Well they’re not gems, and he’s a little wary about touching them at first, but the Pit does seem to settle when he does.

Alright, he can deal with this. It’s not like he has several heads in a duffel bag that needs to be delivered or a tiny assassin child back in his safehouse (Seriously Talia, why was he the preferred babysitter?) or an entire gang in Crime Alley to deal with. It’ll be fine. 

…

He would like to curse out his past self, because there’s now four babies in his safehouse that appeared to have fucking hatched from the orbs. Goddamnit. 

[pixelatedraindrops]

A little drabble scenario idea I put together for @snivyartjpeg’s Kokolight Vampire AU 💜💚🦇

To Care for a Sick Vampire

Yuma seems to be even more tired/weak than usual one day and Vivia notices that something is wrong with him. He asks him if he wants to feed on any of his blood to possibly re-energize him. But to Vivia’s surprise, Yuma refuses the offer outright.

“You look tired, Yuma… Are you…hungry? Do you need to feed? I will provide for you anytime you ask…”

“…No.”

This concerns Vivia but then he notices how pale and sickly Yuma looks, even more than usual. He puts his hand to Yuma’s cheek, but it wasn’t warm. Of course not, he’s a vampire. They probably don’t get fevers to begin with since vampire blood runs cold. But he definitely wasn’t well, that much was certain.

Vivia decides to slice the palm of his hand with his large boxknife he keeps in his pocket and places it in front of Yuma’s face.

“You…need to eat, Yuma… Even if it’s just a little bit…otherwise…you won’t feel any better…”

Yuma looks hesitant at first but then complies as the scent of Vivia’s blood does tempt his urges despite his weak state. He leans his head down slowly and weakly licks and laps the fresh cut on Vivia’s palm. He does it very slowly, but he has a small expression of relief. Even if he wasn’t well, he did still want to eat. But he didn’t want to consume large amounts of blood in this state, in his fear of possibly losing himself due to the weakness and sickly feeling that he felt.

He didn’t want to cause any further trouble for the agency, especially the Chief now that his secret was out to him. He also didn’t want to unexpectedly hurt anyone if his blood urges had gone out of control. It wasn’t safe for him to be blood drunk right now.

At least, that was his worry since he didn’t really understand how his vampiric urges worked due to his amnesia. But he didn’t want to take any chances if his current state wasn’t in good condition. He couldn’t risk causing any more trouble for everyone.

Even if that meant… starving himself.

Thankfully, this small amount of blood that Vivia provided for him seemed to suffice well enough. He stops lapping the cut, looking up to his tall human partner above him.

“…Thank you…Vivia…”

After a very small feeding, he transforms into his little lilac bat form and he tries to fly. But he was still too weak as he falls downward face down toward the floor. But Vivia catches him in his hands just in time.

“You’re too weak, Yuma… I will offer more to you…after you rest for a bit…”

Yuma spends the rest of the day resting/sleeping on Vivia’s hair/lap/shoulder/arms. The poor thing was trembling the whole time. And Vivia continued to feed Yuma very small amounts of his blood whenever he looked too weak, to which the tiny sickly bat would slowly lap up like a delicate little newborn kitten. Over time, Vivia ends up with multiple cuts on his left arm.

Later, Yakou enters the sub safely after seeing that the two were not doing anything TOO weird while they were alone. Seeing Yuma in bat form probably meant they were done. But then he looks to Vivia in shock noticing his left arm is covered in bloody self inflicted wounds.

“Vivia!? What happened to your arm?! Okay, what kind of crazy blood ritual did you two do this time?!”

Vivia gently places his right uninjured hand to where Yuma lay, and a soft weak sounding squeak came from the tiny little bat as he was touched. Yakou also settled his freakout down as he heard the weak bat’s cry.

“Yuma is…not feeling well so…I’m giving him only small amounts of my blood for now… But the blood of the cuts…don’t stay fresh forever…”

“Oh, I see… well that’s not good. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just…leave Yuma to me, Chief…”

Yakou didn’t argue. After all, he had no idea how to care for a sick vampire.

“Okay, but don’t you dare die from blood loss, you hear me?!”

Vivia smiled without saying a word further.

It looked like it was now Vivia’s turn to look after and take care of his weak little vampire partner for the day. Time to repay the favor for all the times he looked after him.

~~~~~

[uncanny-tranny]

I promise you can speak about and denounce undesirable behaviour without attributing it to some in-born, immutable, unchanging trait that you must "civilize" away.

In this specific instance that inspired this, you really don't need to attribute bad behaviour that's done by a man with unchanging character traits. This isn't even solely about men, because doing this affects everyone, men included.

"Men needed to be civilized out of behaving this way!" Who are you expecting to be doing the civilizing and why? This is just defending the idea that women are responsible for training up men - the millenia-old idea that a man's failings are actually a woman's fault, not his.

As a man, I am responsible for my actions. You don't need to dehumanize me in order to preserve your misogyny and your need to hate a group of men. Don't get me wrong, this rhetoric absolutely is not good for men to face. It especially targets men who have experiences with marginalized identities. If you're on my page, you know that this is something I deal with personally, have personal stakes in that affect my life daily. I just also think we really need to remember that this issue exists in a context where women and other folks will inevitably be punished as a direct result of these ideas as well.

I need to make that last part emphatically clear: even if this rhetoric (somehow) only hurt men, it would still be wrong. It would still be wrong! I want to - as a man - remind people (especially those who already have decided to dehumanize entire groups of people) that nobody is safe from being exempt from punishment due to this rhetoric.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Content Warnings: tiny whump, faerie whump, recovery, foot injury, broken bones, rescue/caretaking perceived as capture by whumpee, accidental whump

----

The human moves Shae's shoebox bed into the living room, where he sets it on the coffee table. It's warmer in here, a fire going in the fireplace nearly every minute the human is home. Like before, food and water are left out on the table for Shae to access if he needs.

Shae is cold and weak from blood loss, and the pain and stress have not been kind to his thoughts. He can't help worrying about why he is here or what will happen next. Some days he drags himself out of bed to limp down a staircase of stacked books and have some food and water, but more often than not the human comes home to find it untouched, and has to coax the faerie into eating and drinking.

Pain is constant, sometimes sharp, sometimes dull. The worst is when the human cleans and rebandages his foot or checks on his shoulder. But this is always followed by a dropper of medicine mixed with water, and that at least brings some relief. Shae soon learns that any time the pain gets to be too much and he starts groaning, the human will appear with more medicine, more relief. He never turns it away, welcoming the numbing feeling and the sleep that follows so he can escape his fears.

As he heals, though, Shae gets restless. He gets up more often, takes more of the food and water, wanders more of the table. He never tries to get down, doesn't even think about it. Not when he still walks with a limp and can barely use one of his arms. But he takes full advantage of all the moments the human isn't home to learn his surroundings better in case he needs to flee in a hurry.

One morning Shae is sitting on the table eating while the human, who has been home all day today, works outside. Eventually the man returns, removes his boots, coat and hat and makes his way over to check on Shae. "You look better today," he remarks.

Shae's stomach drops; he should have tried harder to look unwell. He avoids the man's gaze by looking down at the piece of fruit in his hands.

"How about a change of scenery?" He holds his hand out. It seems safest to just go along with him. Resisting will only get him hurt. So Shae sits in his hand and allows the man to lift him and carry him from the room.

He brings the faerie into the kitchen and sets him on the windowsill, where he can see outside into the yard and the woods beyond it. Cold seeps in through the glass, but the human offers Shae a large dishcloth to wrap around himself like a blanket. He mumbles thank you, which puts a smile on the human's face. Maybe I'm worth more if I can talk, Shae thinks glumly.

The man gets to work cooking something. Shae watches him, but turns often to look outside again. It even looks cold, the ground dry and cracked, a wind rustling the bare trees. Shae shivers and pulls the towel tighter around himself. At least he isn't out there. If the human hadn't found him that first day, he probably wouldn't have made it long...

By the time the man cooks and eats his meal, Shae is curled up, bundled head to toe in the blanket, dozing off a little. Used to the man's movements by now, he barely notices him enter the kitchen and start doing dishes.

And then, a hand closes around the towel, bunching it up in a fist and in the process, enveloping Shae within it. He feels himself being lifted from the windowsill and moved. Suddenly a surge of water hits his back, thoroughly soaking both the towel and Shae, who coughs and sputters. His shouts are drowned out by the roar of the water and when he tries to struggle, the hand's grip tightens. A finger presses against his shoulder and Shae whines and tries to squirm away from it, with no luck.

From there it only gets worse. The hand gripping the towel with Shae in it plunges into hot, soapy water. Shae barely holds onto consciousness, his body growing heavy, his vision blurring. Then all at once he's pulled back up, squeezed again, pressed into a hard surface and dragged over it in circles...pulled away only to be slammed belly-first onto the edge of the plate. Shae doubles over, gasping for air as the plate turns in the man's hands, cleaned by the soapy towel.

Back under the rushing faucet, squeezed, back into the hot water, squeezed, shoved into whatever the cloth is cleaning. Shae continues crying out for help through his coughs and gasps, but his cries grow weaker every time. Eventually he just curls in on himself and tries to shield his existing injuries from further harm.

Fortunately, there aren't that many dishes, and he is only made to endure this a few more times. The man rinses out the towel, squeezes one final time, and shakes it open over the sink. Shae comes tumbling out and lands on his back with a thud, arms splayed out on either side of him. He stares blearily up at the lights a moment before turning onto his side to cough up more water. A shadow falls over him as the human finally sees him there.

"Oh, shit," he hears the man mutter. "How did you -" he holds up the towel and it dawns on him what happened. "Oh my god...I'm so sorry, I forgot you were there," he says, sounding quite upset about it. "I'm sorry, buddy, I swear it was an accident...come here..." His fingers pluck Shae up from inside the sink. With his other hand he grabs a fresh, dry towel and holds it in his open palm, setting the trembling faerie into it and bundling him up.

Shae doesn't bother struggling. He continues catching his breath while the human brings him back to the living room and sets the towel on the table, opening it back up with Shae lying in the middle of it. "Sorry," he says again, "I hope I didn't hurt you too bad..."

His fingers move over the tiny faerie, carefully examining him for injury. Shae's foot will need rebandaged, his shoulder re-iced, but he thinks he is fine...until he tries to sit up and a pang shoots through his stomach. He drops back with a gasp and a whimpered ow, ow, ow, an arm wrapped around his belly.

"What's this?" The human eases Shae's arm away and draws in a breath. "Oof...you have some bad bruising here..." His fingertip grazes over Shae's skin. "I don't think anything is broken..."

"Don't hurt m-me," is all Shae can think to say, a pointless plea but one he makes all the same.

The man's face saddens. "I'm not going to hurt you. I didn't mean to hurt you...I'll make it right, okay?"

Shae is suddenly so tired, his defenses crumbling. Tears fill his eyes. He wants to believe the human, he wants to feel safe, not in a constant state of fight or flight, pain or numbness, terror or apathy. Everything hurts, his heart won't rest, his breathing won't even. Shae lies back and lets the human go through the now familiar motions of treating him, the routine now including his aching stomach. When he is finished, the man offers him some food, which Shae declines, though he takes some sips of water just to clear the taste of dish soap from his mouth.

"I'm sorry," the man repeats every so often. He occasionally rubs Shae's back or pets his hair with his thumb, attempts to soothe him that do little to help anymore. Eventually he settles Shae back into bed under plenty of soft layers and leaves him alone. The room goes dark except for the fire. Shae curls up on his side and stares at it until his eyes droop.

I'm never getting out of here...

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim AU: Tiny Kane

Kane & Jim AUs Masterlist

g/t sideblog here! @smallsday

content: whump, g/t, tiny whump, fear, burns, torture, vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, rescue, caretaking, recovery, comfort, starvation, weight loss due to starvation

Whumpmas in July Day 6: Deprived GT July Day 6: AU Two Weeks of Whump Day 6: Cage

surprise extra cameo from TWOW as well, three events in one! i've been wanting to do a tiny Kane AU for a looong time. how did Kane become tiny, you ask? well, it's- (i describe a convenient plot device, but a loud truck blows past and you can't hear me). but yeah i'm just doing this for fun and not worrying about the context lol. you get no in-universe explanation, i just love tiny whump

-

Jim was pretty sure the only reason he wasn't completely freaking out right now was because he'd been warned in advance about the size, but he was still freaking out a little bit.

Kane sat huddled in the middle of a little silver cage, trying his best to balance himself so the only part of him that touched the floor was protected by the small bit of clothing he had. A pair of shorts that looked like they'd been haphazardly sewn together, the seams halfway to coming apart. He strained to raise his feet slightly so they wouldn't burn.

Despite his efforts, the hunter thrust the cage toward Jim carelessly, causing Kane to lose his balance and burn his feet. He shrieked, righting himself as quickly as possible. The entirety of his five-inch body was dotted with similar burns.

The hunter tossed a key, which Jim scrambled to catch. "Don't worry, it's harmless now."

Jim carefully took the cage, being sure to move steadily enough that Kane wouldn't fall over again. On a closer look, a large, circular burn on Kane's back looked suspiciously like the end of a cigarette. "Oh."

He barely paid attention as the hunter said goodbye. All he could focus on was Kane. The situation was too bizarre.

"It's been a while," he said as soon as the hunter left.

Kane burst into tears instantly. "I'm sorry!" he cried. "P-please, Jim, sir, I'm so sorry! Mercy, please have mercy, I can't take-" He was crying so hard that he struggled to pull enough air into his little lungs, gasping for breath around tears. "I'm s-so sorry, I'm so sorry, please-"

"Hey, hey," Jim interrupted him, sick to his stomach. He'd fantasized for years about wringing an apology from his tormenter, but not like this. It was abundantly clear Kane expected Jim to hurt him.

As much as he hated Kane, as much as he'd wished him dead for years, he didn't think he could ever hurt someone as defenseless as Kane was now. Like the hunter said, he was harmless. The vampire may have haunted his nightmares and waking paranoia alike for the past decade, but Jim couldn't even bring himself to be afraid of him now.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he continued. "How about we get you out of there? That looks... painful."

Kane nodded profusely, tears streaming down his face. "Please," he begged.

Jim placed the cage on the hood of his car, trying his best not to jostle it. Kane whimpered at the movement, every muscle tensed as he tried to balance himself.

The key was small and silver. To him it was a harmless trinket, but it was half as tall as Kane and would burn him on touch. When he'd heard about Kane's size now, Jim had only thought of what it meant in terms of the harm Kane could cause. Like this, Kane couldn't hurt him, kidnap him, force him into submission. He'd never thought about what the hunters might do to a vampire this vulnerable.

He unlocked the cage, reaching in since Kane wouldn't be able to climb out on his own without getting burned. Kane looked at his approaching hand with utter terror, but made no move away from it, allowing Jim to scoop him into his palm and out of the cruel cage.

Kane stared up at him, eyes wide with fear as his chest rose and fell rapidly, backed up against his fingers so Jim could feel him trembling. His heart raced, fluttering with fear.

"It's okay," Jim soothed the tiny, shaking vampire in his palm. He hated Kane, he really did. Nothing could ever erase the things Kane did to him, the years Kane stole from him. But he knew what it was like to be hurt and scared, and he wouldn't wish it on anyone. Even Kane. "Just try and relax."

Kane gave a stiff nod, but did not relax. "Yes, sir," he said anyway, timid and afraid.

It felt so wrong, and brought up some of the worst memories Jim had. Memories of being that vulnerable person, unable to stand even the slightest chance of protecting himself against someone so strong, calling Kane sir just like he wanted in a desperate attempt to placate him before he-

"Jim," he corrected, unnerved. "You know my name."

"Y-yes, Jim!" Kane squeaked, only looking more terrified, like calling him sir had been worthy of execution. "I'm sorry!"

"Don't worry about it." Jim threw the silver shit on the floor of the backseat before getting in the car, briefly scanning for a decent place to put Kane. "I'm gonna put you in the cupholder."

"Thank you," Kane breathed. He sounded so relieved to just be out of that cage. Jim couldn't imagine what a car ride in that thing would be like.

He went to put Kane in the cupholder, but hesitated.

Kane weighed almost nothing, even less than he should at this size. Given his lack of a shirt, Jim could easily see his ribs poking against the skin of his chest, the way his stomach dipped in, concave like his cheeks.

He was starving. He was starving so badly that if he weren't a vampire, he would surely be dead.

The fact that the hunters had deprived Kane of food when it would take so little to keep him fed was horrifying. He was five inches tall, and yet they'd stripped him of everything from food to clothes to accommodations that wouldn't burn him. It was cruel. it was sadistic.

It would take so very little for Jim to rectify it.

He didn't want to do this. It was ridiculous, considering the circumstances, but he was scared to. The scars on his neck, hidden snug under the fabric of his turtleneck, seemed to ache the more he thought about it.

Jim set Kane down gently in the cupholder. He could psych himself up on the drive home. For good measure, he grabbed a couple stray napkins and put them in there with him. "Here, you can use these to make yourself a little more comfortable."

Kane wrapped them both around himself instantly, bundling himself up in the cheap paper like they were blankets. "Thank you," he said, choked up with genuine gratitude. "Thank you so much for letting me use them. I'll be good."

The display about broke Jim's heart. "No problem, man."

-

Kane sat dutifully in the cupholder the whole drive, beyond grateful that he didn't have to do it in the silver cage. The cage which laid ominously in the backseat, ready to be pulled out again whenever Jim decided he deserved it. And Kane knew he deserved it.

Jim could do anything he wanted to him, and he'd be powerless to resist. He'd probably be powerless to resist even at his old size, given how weak the starvation had made him, but especially now. Just like Jim had been when their situations were reversed. Jim could return every slap, every kick, every iron-clad grasp around his neck that Kane had dished out, and return it tenfold until he was nothing but red paste.

But he would heal. He always did, slowly but surely, and would continue to unless he was staked. Jim may have shown him mercy this time, but he couldn't expect that every time after what he'd done.

Jim parked the car when they got there, extending his hand toward the cupholder. "We're here," he announced.

Kane waited a moment to be grabbed, something he'd become very accustomed to after years of being handled like an unbreakable toy, before he realized Jim was waiting for him to climb on.

"Yes, s- Jim," he corrected himself just in time, hauling himself onto the human's warm hand. He brought the lovely napkins with him, hoping Jim would allow him to keep them.

The decadent smell of human blood enveloped Kane once again as Jim cupped his hand around him, his mouth watering at the scent. He would do anything for just a drop, but he knew better by now. Bad vampires got punished. He could be good, prove he was worthy of being allowed outside his horrible, burning cage. Even being used as an ashtray would be better.

Jim carried him inside. It was surreal: he hadn't been anywhere besides the hunters' compound and its backyard since shrinking. To be in a regular house, with everything massive and blown up around him, just emphasized how he could never go back to his old life. He would be at the mercy of others forever, no matter what.

"I don't have any clothes for you," Jim said apologetically. "I wasn't expecting you to... not have any. I'll look for something in town for you tomorrow. I'll get you some cloth you can use in the meantime."

That was even better than napkins! Jim was going to give him clothes! Clothes his size, that fit!

"Thank you so much!" he enthused, craning his neck to look up at his new keeper. "That would be amazing. You're- you're very generous." He knew he would have to earn this kindness, but he was too excited to care.

Jim shrugged, Kane's world tilting with the motion. "It's kind of just the bare minimum. It's not like you ever deprived me of clothes, right?"

"I would never," Kane assured him quickly.

It was hardly the only kindness Jim would gift him that night. Jim allowed him to bathe in the sink, and choose what room he would be kept in. He chose the basement, enticed by the lack of windows bearing the dangers of the sun. Jim set up a small cardboard box for him layered with blanketing. It was the softest thing he'd felt in years.

"There's one more thing." Jim seemed... upset about this one, which set Kane on edge.

He pulled the cloth he'd been given tighter around himself. Was Jim finally about to take his revenge? Kane could deal with that, as long as he got to sleep on something soft after. "Yes?"

Jim reached toward him. Despite his own train of thought, Kane couldn't help but flinch back. Waiting to be grabbed, squeezed, his limbs snapped, his skin burnt-

But Jim didn't touch him. His hand stopped in front of him, a giant thumb in front of his face. "You can feed."

Kane couldn't believe what he was hearing. After years of complete deprivation, he would finally be allowed food?

He didn't ask Really?. He didn't ask if there were restrictions. He couldn't bear it. He was being given permission, and every instinct in his body screamed at him to feed before the precious blood was taken away forever again.

"Thank you!" Kane exclaimed. He took Jim's thumb in his hands, and with a final glance up at Jim, he bit.

The taste was like nothing he could have ever imagined, more phenomenal than any blood he'd tasted before in his life, despite how many times he'd tasted Jim's blood in particular. It flowed into his mouth with abundance, rich and savory. He couldn't possibly get enough, even when Jim's thumb trembled in his hold.

He drank and drank until he physically couldn't anymore. Jim didn't stop him. He just let him keep going, and as Kane came out of his bloodlust-induced frenzy and back to rational thought, he realized that maybe his new size had a good aspect to it after all.

Kane swiped his tongue over the two pinpricks his fangs had made, then released the thumb, scooting back into the cardboard. "Thank you so much. That's- that's the kindest thing anyone's ever done for me. I forgot what it was like to not be hungry." Tears dripped onto his chest, and he realized he must have started crying while he fed. "Thank you, thank you so much. Especially after I- thank you."

"I'm not gonna be cruel." Jim took his hand back, examining the wound. "I won't keep your basic needs away. I won't hurt you. I won't grab you without permission. I know what it's like to be powerless and vulnerable, okay? You know."

"I'm sorry." Kane had never meant it as much as he did right now. "I'm sorry for everything."

"Nothin' you can do about it now." Jim stepped away. "Get some rest. You need it."

Kane nestled into his blankets, full for the first time in years, warm in a way that didn't hurt.

Finally, finally safe.

-

tune in on sunday for a canon Kane & Jim chapter! taglist in reblog!

event: @whumpmasinjuly @gianttol @promptsforyourwhumpfic