#tw: implied/referenced kidnapping

[aftgficrec]

trashypotpiebitchybitch said: "High or Low Tide" by Stjosten on Ao3

My all-time favorite fic. Featuring minor long distance relationship (Neil's finishing his senior year at Columbia, Andrew starting his freshman year at palmetto). Very fluffy. Very sweet. Is a one shot though. As well as clingy Andrew.

We love Stjosten’s fics! They have featured quite frequently in our recs, and we’re very happy to shine a spotlight on this one. -S

High or Low Tide by Stjosten [Rated G, 5331 words, complete, 2020]

Andrew is off at college and Neil is back in Columbia finishing his senior year of high school. It’s fine. Nothing bad is going to happen in the short time apart. Neil is an idiot but he has survived alone for a long time before he met Andrew. It is going to be fine. Atleast, that’s what he keeps telling himself and for some reason it feels like lying.

tw: implied/referenced kidnapping

[serickswrites]

Thin Ice II

Part 1 Part 3

Warnings: referenced kidnapping, implied torture

Caretaker walked through the cold, twilight. They had been walking for hours. Their friends had been encouraging them to do this for the last couple of weeks, but Caretaker couldn't bring themself to leave their house. What if Whumpee came home? What if they called?

Caretaker didn't want to risk missing Whumpee. They couldn't fail Whumpee again.

They had known Whumper was stalking Whumpee. They had all known. But it wasn't enough to stop Whumper from abducting Whumpee. Wasn't enough to stop Whumper from hurting Whumpee.

Caretaker wiped away their tears as they thought about how they had failed Whumpee. They should have done more. Should have kept Whumpee safe. But they were desperate to leave the house that afternoon. Even for just a twenty minute drive. Whumpee hadn't wanted to come. Caretaker should have stayed. But instead they left.

And by the time they got home, Whumpee was gone. No trace left behind.

In the weeks following Whumpee's abduction, Caretaker could only imagine all the torture Whumpee was enduring at Whumper's hands. All the pain and suffering. Alone. Caretaker should have been there. Should have stopped it.

But as they rounded the corner to their home, Caretaker realized it was useless. The police were looking for Whumpee. Caretaker had tried to tell them that Whumper had taken Whumpee. But no one believed Caretaker. Caretaker had no proof other than knowing things about Whumper.

They sighed, wiping away the last of their tears as they reached the end of their driveway. There was no point in going around and around in their head. They were completely helpless at this point. They looked up, their heart beat quickening. On Caretaker's doorstep was something--someone--lying on the doormat.

"Whumpee!"

Tags: @thelazywitchphotographer

[schrijverr]

One of their own is laying down the hall, still too unstable for surgery and his sister-in-law, a part of his family, is missing. And if she doesn’t come back, he doesn’t know what it’ll do to Buck. Doesn’t know what he will do if it breaks him.

So his reply might be a little pointed as he says: “Then why are you in hospital jail?”

Buck looks away, face withdrawing as his shoulders get that defeated sag once more. Eddie instantly regrets his words.

After a sigh, he retracts them slightly. “Look, you’re worried, I get it. I’m worried too. But I sucked at explaining what a stalker was to Chris, do you think I can explain why he has to go visit papi through a glass window?”

The comment gets a small smile from Buck, which Eddie mentally congratulates himself on. Then Buck’s face falls again and that heartbroken expression returns to his face. “I told Maddie- I said that she didn’t need to keep on running, that she could start over here, that she would be safe. That I would keep her safe.” He sighs, emotions overtaking him, primarily regret.

“This isn’t your fault,” Eddie tells him immediately, because Buck can never allow himself to think that. “You caught it. Without you, Chim wouldn’t be down the hall and no one would be looking for Maddie. You did well, Buck.”

“Maybe,” says Buck in a tone that indicates that he doesn’t believe it. “I just- I can’t help but think it would have been different, you know, if I told her. If I convinced her to stay with us. I mean, with the two of us there, Doug probably wouldn’t have dared.”

A part of Eddie agrees with Buck. If Maddie had been staying with them, there’s a big chance Doug would have been too scared to try anything. They’re both big dudes and Eddie used to be a solider, with what little he heard, he doesn’t think they’d have been a target like Chimney was. And naturally a wave of guilt crashes over him, because it will always be his choice that caused it to play out differently, that caused Buck to be distraught like this.

-check out of the fic this is a snippet of-

[riahlynn101]

Whumptober 2024 - Day One: "Search Party."

Word count: 1,106

Trigger warnings: Implied kidnapping, referenced child death, heavily implied child neglect, feelings of guilt, and talk of depression.

Welcome, everyone, to year 2 of me writing FNAF whump for a month straight! I hope you all enjoy :D!!

Fandom: FNAF movie (pre-canon)

--

Mike wants to cry. He wants to sob into his mom’s shirt, while she holds him. But he’s too old for that, and his parents are needed by the police. 

He wraps his arms around himself, listening as the police talked in hushed whispers to his grieving parents. The small amount of hope they had, had been whittled away by the constant media presence camped outside their home, and the calloused looks of people that ‘would have never let their children get taken.’

It had been like this for weeks, and Mike honestly didn’t know how much more he could endure. He knows he has to be strong, if not for himself, for his parents. His parents are already cracking at the seams. 

His mom either sleeps too much or not at all. Mike sometimes hears her, from his place in his room, screaming Garrett’s name. 

And his dad isn’t much better, though he somehow manages to keep going to work. He argues with his mom a lot, something that Mike wishes he would stop doing (there exists a fear in him that, if his dad keeps pushing, mom will crumble and break). And when he’s not arguing with mom, he’s drinking away their leftover money. Money that could be better used on finding Garrett.

His dad, in a way, seems convinced that Garrett is gone. That it’s a waste of resources trying to find him. 

Mike feels hopeless and more hopeless still when, after the officers stop talking, his mom lets out the most heart-wrenching cry. He hasn’t heard her cry like that, ever. Not when Garrett disappeared. Not when dad screamed at her, begging her to stop looking. And not even when a reporter shoved a microphone in her face and asked if she thought this was her fault. 

It pierces Mike’s soul, like an icepick. He feels it in his chest. 

He places a pillow over his ears, trying and failing to block out the sound. It doesn’t work. His mom’s screams of anguish carry all the way down the hall. 

Mike knows then, without being told, that his little brother is dead. That he’ll never get to play with him again or tell Garrett he loves him. All the maybes are shattered with the force of his mom’s cries. 

Maybe if he hadn’t turned away-

Maybe if his mom hadn’t spilled the pop-

Maybe if his dad looked over his shoulder, just once-

Maybe if Mike had gotten chicken poxs like the rest of his seventh grade class-

And maybe if his dad hadn’t decided to remarry-

There are so many things that had to go right for everything to go so horribly wrong. 

His dad had sunk into a depression after Charlie and momma’s deaths (his first mom, the one that abandoned them. The one that his dad told him to never talk about). And despite what his dad might say now, he had loved momma. Loved her enough for Mike to be shocked when he started dating his mom. 

He had been young at the time, maybe four at the oldest, but he remembered feeling confused and a little angry. It felt like his dad tried to fill the gaping hole in his heart with a new family. A new wife and, later, a new son. 

Mike found he didn’t have any vitriol for his new mom. She didn’t look at him with eyes full of sorrow, or brush him off whenever he needed a hug. She forced them to sit together as a family every night, and helped give life to Mike’s very best friend.

He hugged his pillow, nausea growing with every passing second. He knows that, at some point, his parents will need to talk to him about Garrett. Or maybe they won’t.

Maybe they’ll just forget to tell him, letting Mike stew in a hell of his own making. Reliving the moment he failed Garrett, over and over and over again. 

He cries. 

“Mike,” a familiar voice calls. Instantly, all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Part of him wants so badly to look up from the pillow he mashed over his face, but the other part of him fears what he may see. 

Tiny footsteps come closer to his bed. They sound so loud, standing out even against his mom’s sobs. “Mike,” Garrett, his supposedly dead little brother, calls again. “Look at me.”

He shook his head. “Nuh, no. You’re not real. Go away.”

Hands, smaller than Mike’s own, grip his bicep. They’re cold, inhumanely so, and when they clamp down, shocking him enough to drop the pillow, he sees the partial decayed body of his brother. 

He’s dressed the same as he had been that day. His skin is tinged gray and his eyes have a film over them. “Mike….”

He screams, thrashing around. 

“Mike?” His brother says, hands wrapping around his wrists. “Mike, wake up.”

“Mike?”

He blinks open his eyes. His room is dark, only lit up by the hall light streaming in through the open door. 

“What’s going on?” He asks, groggy and a little shaken up. His dad stands above him, imposing and unreadable as he’s always been. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Just a nightmare,” Mike says, feeling silly. His heart continues to race, though, unperturbed by stupid things like “reality.” 

“Was it about him?” 

Mike doesn’t need to ask for clarification. They both know who him is. It hurts to talk about him, and it hurts to say his name. So, they don’t. They talk in circles, pretending that he never existed. 

“No,” he lies. “Just a monster.”

His dad hums, not convinced in the slightest. But he does what he always does, and ignores the problem until he can’t anymore. “Okay.” He ruffles Mike’s hair. “Try to get some sleep.”

And despite being fifteen now, a sudden urge to be held and comforted by his one semi-functioning parent courses through him. “Dad?” He calls out. 

His dad pauses in the doorframe. “Yes?”

“Can you ho-”

A high-pitched cry echoes throughout the house, signaling Abby’s wakefulness. It was both a blessing and a curse having a new baby in the house. And one that he’s usually grateful for, but right now he just wants his dad. 

“Duty calls,” his dad jokes, hurrying out of the room. He shuts Mike’s door behind him, leaving the room in pitch-black darkness. 

“Hold me,” he finishes. He turns over, facing the wall. “Goodnight, dad,” he murmurs, already drifting off. 

In the quiet of the room, unheard by the sole occupant, a tiny voice responds, “goodnight, brother.”

[bloody-cupcakes]

Yandere/dark Tenth Doctor x reader; he helps you celebrate your birthday

Tw: yandere/dark content, soft yandere, threatened force feeding (it doesn't happen though), implied kidnapping/Stockholm syndrome, gender neutral reader, the Doctor uses affectionate pet names such as star, angel, and love, brief swearing, referenced past hypnotism/mind control

A/N: it's my birthday and I happen to share it with none other David Tennant himself so naturally I had to write something a little dark with the Tenth Doctor in order to celebrate 🥳🎈🎂

The bed dipped down beside you as you tried to play it off like you were still asleep. "Happy birthday, star," the Doctor softly cooed in your ear, gently shaking you as you laid there. Obviously he figured out you were faking. "It's time to get up so I can give you your gift."

You pressed your face closer into the pillow and let out a defiant huff. "I don't wanna," you whined quietly, almost too quiet for him to hear. As much as you might've enjoyed your birthday before, you'd recently been dreading its approach due to the circumstances you found yourself in.

Part of you had hoped that maybe he wouldn't remember, and then you could say you didn't remember either if it ever came up in further conversation, but unfortunately you had no such luck. You didn't even question how he knew it: at this point you didn't want to know where he got any additional information that you didn't willingly give up.

"I said, it's time to get up." His tone was a bit more forceful than before; it made you gulp nervously and sent shivers down your spine. "I don't want to have to repeat myself again, understood?"

"Yes, sir," you responded obediently, your voice sounding timid and meek as you slowly sat up in the bed. "I'm sorry." You stuck your bottom lip out and widened your eyes, trying to make yourself look as innocent and unsuspecting as possible, something you knew he always fell for.

"I guess I'm just a little upset that I won't be getting to spend today with my family." It could very well have been a bold faced lie, but he didn't need to know that. It wouldn't matter, anyway. You knew he wasn't going to take you back home, but at the very least you were hoping for some sympathy, which you got.

"Oh, angel..." His voice went back to its usual soft spoken tone as he pulled you onto his lap, his brow furrowed as his eyes filled with concern. "I know you miss them, love, but I can't take you back. You know that. Besides, this is your home now." He gestured to your room inside the TARDIS, one that he filled with items he'd taken from your old place.

Against your better judgement, you cuddled up close to him on his lap, nuzzling your face into the side of his neck. You inhaled the scent of his aftershave, something that you thought you'd always hate when he first took you. Now, though, it provided you some much needed comfort whenever you were feeling down.

"I'm going to go get your gift, okay? I'll be right back." You made a soft noise of protest as he slipped you off his lap and back onto the bed, watching as he got up and left the room. Pouting, you crossed your arms and just sat there, waiting for him to return.

The Doctor soon returned, carrying a plate with a large slice of birthday cake on it. He chuckled upon seeing the grouchy look on your face. "I told you I'd be right back." He walked over and took a seat back on the bed, setting the plate down in front of you. "Boy, you must've missed me an awful lot, hm?"

You stuck your tongue out to show you didn't appreciate his teasing. "Careful, otherwise your face is going to freeze like that." He picked up the fork and stuck it in the slice of cake, breaking off a piece before holding it up. "Look, I got your favorite."

Knowing exactly what he wanted, you kept your mouth shut, refusing to eat the piece of cake on front of you. If you were in a better mood, then maybe you'd be fine with it. After all, you'd grown used to him feeding you, even if it was a tad bit degrading.

But today was just not the day for all of that. You couldn't be sure exactly what time it was, as there wasn't a clock in your room, but you were fairly certain he'd woken you up just past midnight . Honestly, the nerve to not even let you sleep on on your own birthday.

"I don't want any. I'm not hungry," you mumbled as you looked down, not feeling brave enough to meet his gaze, even if you were openly defying him by refusing the "gift" he'd gotten you.

"Very funny, star. I woke you up early, so now you're going to be a brat and refuse to eat your cake," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at you. "Look, would you just eat it? It's only one slice, love, c'mon now."

"No. I said I don't want to," you blurted out in frustration, glaring at him. The moment his eyes darkened, you felt your blood run cold, realizing you'd made a mistake. "I- I'm sorry, I'm just a little tired-"

Your poorly made excuses were cut off quickly by the Doctor's harsh tone. "I don't care how tired you are, do you hear me? We are going to sit here until you eat every damn bite, if I have to force it down your throat."

A loud whimper of fear escaped you at his scolding tone, causing him to let out a sigh as he recognized he'd gone a bit too far. "Love, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to be so rough sounding with you," he gently reassured you as he shifted closer to you on the bed.

Deciding it wasn't worth it to fight him (despite how much you really didn't want to be held), you allowed him to pull you onto his lap for a second time. "I'm sorry, angel. I didn't mean to upset you in that way," he spoke in a low and soothing voice while wrapping his arms around you.

"You were mean," you choked out as your eyes began to fill with tears. Although it was ridiculous to believe, especially with no proof, you always thought he'd done something that made you much more emotional and sensitive than you used to be, just so he could have the chance to comfort you.

(Technically your suspicions weren't all that far off, as he'd asked a favor from his best enemy back when he first took you. He figured that maybe if you were more docile and submissive it'd be easier to make you stay with him, so he convinced the Master to hypnotize you in an effort to change the chemistry of your brain and make it so you'd be dependent fully on him. Of course, you didn't know any of this, though it wouldn't have surprised you even if you did.)

"I know I was, love, and I'm sorry." He reached over and moved the plate, resting it on your thigh as he picked up the fork again. "Just eat this, then you can go back to bed, okay? I promise." The offer was certainly tempting, and the cake didn't actually look (or smell) that bad.

"Okay," you sniffled in a small voice, opening your mouth just enough for him to stick the fork in. The taste of the buttercream frosting hit your tongue first, the silky smooth texture followed by the fluffiness of the cake. The Doctor smiled in delight as he watched you eat it.

"Good, good. There you go, see? I knew you'd like it." He broke off another piece from the slice and held it up to your mouth again, feeding you in almost the same manner a mother would to her child. "You're doing so well for me, star, I'm so proud of you."

You felt your face heat up in a blush at his praise, humming happily as you continued to eat. His words of encouragement pushed you to keep eating, even if you weren't really that hungry to begin with. A full belly and an empty plate later, you were finally done, licking your lips clean of icing.

"See, that wasn't so bad, now was it?" He placed the fork on the plate and set them both down on the bedside table. "Did you enjoy your gift, star, hm? I thought you might like it, seeing as that's your favorite."

As you were still savoring the final bites of the slice of cake, you nodded your head eagerly. He grinned in response, glad to know you'd liked it. "Good, I'm glad." Noticing there was some icing smeared on your upper lip, he leaned in and dragged his tongue across it suddenly, an action that left you both shocked and flustered.

Laughing at your reaction, he gave your lips a quick kiss before saying in a low and suggestive voice, "I'm sorry, angel, I just couldn't resist. You looked too sweet not to taste for myself."

Too embarrassed to say anything, you turned and buried your face into his chest, which only caused him to laugh harder. "Oh, star, you're always so easy to tease." He ran his hand up and down your back in a comforting fashion, smirking playfully.

A soft yawn could be heard coming from you as drowsiness started to overcome you. "I'm really tired, can I go back to sleep now?" You asked in a sleepy mumble, looking up at him with eyes that were droopy as an effect of being woken up in the middle of the night.

"Of course you can, love. I won't keep you awake any longer." He pulled the covers over top of you before flicking off the lamp beside the bed. Pressing a loving kiss to your head, you could hear him faintly murmur just before you drifted off to sleep: "happy birthday".

[justwhumptypethings]

tw: implied/referenced past kidnapping

inspired by this post. @sickfictropes

grumpy caretakers. specifically with sunshine whumpees. whumpee got kidnapped for an extended period of time- sometime over months- and comes back quiet. like, distinctly just changed, their eyes looking dead.

and maybe caretaker didn’t show it well, but whumpee had been their sunshine. throwing out smiles that caretaker swears could relight the sun, smiling and talking and always staying at their side no matter how many times caretaker tried to brush them off.

but now.. they’re just quiet. their eyes full and dead looking. and it throws caretaker off, massively. they aren’t used to the quiet, they aren’t used to not having whumpee around to fill the air. so they do. well- they try, awkwardly. they talk about anything and everything. things whumpee missed while they were away, shows and celebrity news and friend drama.

and whumpee finds such comfort in them, because they know that they’re safe with caretaker. caretaker doesn’t understand why- they’re a self proclaimed jackass, and they were never particularly caring before, although post-whump they’ve been trying desperately to be kind and gentle and soft in all the ways whumpee is because god damnit, they’ve been through enough. whumpee keeps coming back to caretaker, getting so close to them for reasons caretaker doesn’t understand. It’s not like they treated them particularly well before. whumpee goes to caretaker for comfort, and they don’t understand why. meanwhile, whumpee is staying with caretaker because it settles something instinctual and terrified in them to have someone like caretaker with them and trying to keep them safe.

[whump-mania]

Alright as requested, a continuation of this! And I’ve decided, yes it is canon.

BE VERY CAREFUL! There are references to noncon in this chapter. Nothing explicit happens, but it is very much alluded to. Sequel to this will be on my NSFW blog if I write one.

TWs: implied/referenced noncon, kidnapping, beating, referenced eye whump/gore, creepy whumper, restraints

previous / next

Quinn wouldn’t talk. At all.

They had their back turned to Vincent and the elites as much as they could. They knew it was unreasonable to be distant. They did. But they would all be free if they didn’t care about them so damn much.

Damien was the first to speak up. He took a shaky breath. “Quinn…”

Quinn stayed silent. They bit the inside of their cheek to keep from crying.

“Quinn, we made this decision for a reason. We couldn’t let you just rot in here alone,” Damien continued.

“Yeah. We’re a team. We stay together, always,” Ian agreed. He and Felix were holding hands as well as they could with the ropes tied around their wrists.

Quinn finally looked at their team through their hair. At Damien and Kari with their concerned looks, at Ian and Felix holding hands and leaning against each other. Finally, their eyes landed on Vincent. He was barely recognizable. His hair was choppy and unkempt. Not to mention the horrifying empty socket where his eye used to be, a blood-soaked bandage barely covering it. All the life was drained from his expression. For the first time, Vincent actually looked hopeless.

“All of us are going to suffer now,” Quinn said bitterly. “Because you didn’t just decide to let me take it. I lived with this for years. I can f…I can f-fucking handle it.” They sniffled and wiped their tears with their shoulder. “You’re all dumb for staying with me.”

“I’m sure we can handle it, Quinn,” Kari interrupted. “It’s nothing we haven’t gone through before.”

Quinn shook their head. “N-No. No, you have no idea…w-what they’re like. You haven’t even seen Daniel yet, he…”

“They’re just Renegades, just like all the others have been,” Felix added. “We can survive this.”

“No!” Quinn cried. “You guys don’t understand!”

“Quinn’s right.”

Everyone turned to look at Vincent when he finally spoke. His gaze was trained at the floor still. “These guys are different. They hurt people with no reason. They’re sadists.” He looked up, letting everyone see the damage on his face. “They’ll find any excuse to torture us. Sometimes with no excuse at all. Not for information, not for revenge…because they want to.”

His vision shifted to Quinn.

“…But I don’t regret staying here for one second.”

Looking at Vincent’s face, into his remaining eye, it was clear that even though Hunter had tried to break him down completely, part of him was still there. He was still Vincent.

“Because we’re going to get out of here, together.”

Quinn could barely react to the information before the door to the tiny room they were kept in slammed open.

Into the room came Hunter, smug grin plastered on his face, and after him, the man Quinn dreaded to see most.

“D-Daniel, please, don’t hurt th—”

“Shut up. Everyone, on your knees. Facing me. NOW.”

Daniel’s voice cut like a knife through the musty air of the room. Despite their pride, everyone moved to obey him, even Quinn. They had their head bowed. They knew Daniel liked them like that.

Except Vincent didn’t move. He stayed faced away from Daniel, slumped on his side against the wall. Daniel slowly made his way over to the man, letting his presence loom over him for a moment. Hunter grinned at the display of intimidation. He’d learned that one from him.

Daniel gripped Vincent’s shoulder and turned him around roughly to face him. The man studied his face and his injuries. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at Hunter.

“His whole eye? Seriously? Isn’t that a bit overkill?” Daniel asked, unamused.

Hunter shrugged. “You said not to hold back with this guy.”

Daniel rolled his eyes and turned back to Vincent. He gripped the man’s chin with his hand, turning his head to observe him closer.

“As I thought. You’re just the same Conformist traitor as you always were,” Daniel spat. “Only difference is you’ve finally learned your place.”

Daniel let go of his face. The kick came faster than anyone could brace for. Vincent doubled over, unable to clutch his now possibly broken ribs as his hands were still tied behind his back.

“Daniel…s-sir, stop it, please…he didn’t do anything,” Quinn sobbed. Hunter had come around to crouch behind them. He was playing with their hair, to Quinn’s disgust, but they tried their best to ignore him. All their focus was on Vincent now.

“Still stupid, I see.” Daniel lifted Vincent onto his knees, eliciting a gasp from the other man. “You have no clue what this traitor has done to me.”

Quinn still didn’t understand. Vincent hadn’t even met Daniel before, right? What did that even mean?

When he was satisfied with Vincent on his knees, he turned around to observe the others. He went to each of the elites, sizing them up and manhandling them like they were products to be sold. When he got to Ian, he scowled.

“This one’s weak.”

Ian shrunk and averted eye contact, his face red with embarrassment.

Daniel stood up from Ian and sighed. “Hunter, you can take this one too. He won’t be any good to us.”

Ian didn’t fully know what that meant, but Quinn and Vincent did. Quinn shouted in horror and protest and tried to lunge forward, but Hunter held them back. He was giddy as he covered Quinn’s mouth with his hand, his hungry gaze now falling on Ian. Vincent lifted his head and pulled against his restraints.

“Daniel, no! Ian is an expert hacker. H-He can break into safes like nobody’s business, he’s useful,” Vincent pleaded. “We all are. Please.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “He speaks. Fine, then. Tell me exactly how I can work each of your cronies to the bone.”

Vincent shivered. He didn’t want to exploit his team like this, but it was better than the alternative. God, was it better than the alternative.

“Felix is a great medic, best I’ve ever had…D-Damien is really good with a gun, I’ve only seen him miss a shot twice. Kari could be a bodybuilder with how strong she is, she’s stronger than any of us.” Vincent swallowed dryly. He could praise his team for hours, but he hated that it was under these circumstances.

“You know what I can do already, I can…I can plan, I can lead…and Quinn, Quinn is—”

“No need telling me about Quinn,” Daniel interrupted, waving his hand. “I’m fully aware of what they’re capable of.” His eyes fell on Quinn, still struggling against Hunter’s grip. “But whatever you say won’t change my decision about what to do with them. I’ve already made up my mind.”

Vincent took a few shallow breaths, confused. “…W-What—”

“Quinn will still be a runner,” Daniel explained. “But they’ll fall back into their…other duties as they’ve done before.” He gave Hunter a knowing look.

That was all Quinn needed to hear. They screamed and tried to bite Hunter’s hand. They had to get out. They couldn’t do this again. Never again, Vincent had promised.

“NO!” Vincent protested, attempting to stand. “You can’t, you—you won’t touch them again! Neither of you!”

The other elites started to catch on. They began shouting out in protest too in defense of Quinn.

“ENOUGH!” Daniel shouted, shocking everyone into silence. “I have no qualms subjecting all of you to the same fate. There are plenty of members of Renegade 7 who would love their own Conformist to play with.”

The comment made Quinn feel sick. They’d never let what happened to them happen to the rest of the team. Never.

“You know, boss, you’re right,” Hunter added from where he knelt behind Quinn. “Trevor always asked me if he could share Quinn with me…and Ian over there seems like a good substitute,” he said with a grin. Ian whimpered and Felix tried to cover him with his body.

“And some of my buddies have been talking about wanting a girl, so…” Hunter smirked at Kari. “Looks like you fit that brief, don’t you?”

Quinn finally ripped their mouth away from Hunter’s hand. “STOP IT!” They cried. They shielded themselves from their team’s worried faces and focused on Daniel. “Don’t let anyone touch them, please. I-I’ll take it all, I can, you know I can.”

Daniel walked over and knelt in front of Quinn. “If they all behave and dedicate themselves to the Renegade movement, you won’t have to worry about that,” he said evenly. “But if they show me any ounce of disloyalty, I will not hesitate to put them back in their place.”

Daniel stood and addressed the entire group. “Understand?”

The elites all nodded solemnly, and Vincent stared blankly at the wall. He couldn’t believe a human being could stoop to such a level. He yelled when Daniel gripped his face again.

“Understand?” Daniel asked again, louder this time.

Blinking back tears, Vincent nodded in defeat.

Daniel stood. “Very good.” He pulled a radio out of his pocket. “Jefferson, Rhodes, Varley, help me with the prisoners.”

Soon enough, everyone got dragged out of the room one-by-one. Quinn made eye contact with each one as they left, a silent apology for putting them in this situation indirectly. When everyone in the room was taken out besides Vincent and Quinn, Daniel closed the door.

Quinn looked around in confusion. “W-Wait…aren’t we…”

“Not yet,” Daniel interrupted. He locked the door and dragged Vincent to the corner of the room. He stayed behind him, holding his tied wrists and essentially immobilizing him.

Quinn’s breathing picked up. “Daniel…w-what are you…”

“Hunter, go ahead and get started,” Daniel instructed firmly. “I want him to watch, just this once.”

tag list: @tears-and-lilies @whumpasaurus101 @whmp @freefallingup13 @sadistgalore @firewheeesky @authorofemotion @whatwhumpcomments @wingedwhump @mammonsemptycreditcard @eilarchswhump @whumblrwork @ficklefuddle @mylifeisonthebookshelf @lizzydizzyyo @whump-cravings @whumpcreations

[baldurs-writers-3]

Angst: A BG3 Rec List

This week, we have Angst!  Check under the cut for 12 fics that include a lot of that oh so tasty pain (both emotional and physical!), and as always, comment and kudos if you like them!

The lick of poison by astarionfreak (4994,Explicit) Warnings: Sex pollen, fuck or die, dubious consent, forced orgasm Pairings: Astarion/Naenia (Fem!Tav)

This is a sex pollen/fuck or die fic. Naenia is the only one affected. Astarion has some complex feelings about consent. It's set in Act 1 in the Underdark.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Daisies On My Nightstand by Thedrowlock on AO3 and bhaalbabebardlock on tumblr (158000,Explicit) Warnings: PLEASE be mindful of all tags and chapter notes especially as you progress through the story. This fic takes a hard, hard dive into dead dove territory at chapter sixty and stays there (the angst stays too). This is an ongoing, updates almost daily longfic. Part one is almost complete. Pairings: Named Dark Urge (Ilara)/Astarion; Ilara/Gortash, Ilara/Shadowheart, Ilara & Raphael, Ilara/A!Astarion

The story of a Bhaal-spawn who only ever wanted her freedom, and how far she'll go to find it.

Reccer says: I liked it!

In Another Life (I Found You) by grovyrosegirl (74380,Mature) Warnings: Violence, Death, Grief, Kidnapping, Emotional/Psychological Abuse Pairings: Gale/Tav

Five years after the Netherbrain’s defeat, Gale and Connie (Tav)’s happy married life is interrupted when Connie is suddenly kidnapped by a mysterious intruder. This intruder turns out to be another Gale, from a world where he claimed the Crown of Karsus.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Deo volente by cyranonic (33529,Mature) Warnings: astarion's past is mentioned, so i guess TW: Astarion :( Pairings: Astarion/Gale

Astarion is having a shitty time post game, miserable without the sun. Gale is having a miserable time as well. Watch them drag each other down even worse!

Reccer says: a darker look than many fics at what could occur after the game is over, with some characters feeling abandoned. Super well written in general, great Astarion voice.

Oathbreaker by Mellybaggins (173240,Explicit) Warnings: Major character death, rape/non-con, religious trauma, some dead dove content Pairings: Tav/Astarion, Tav/Halsin, Tav/OC

A longfic about an oathbreaker paladin navigating the events of the game, and working through her own memories of why she broke her oath.

Reccer says: It seems like a standard Tav fic at first, but takes a sharp turn into OC territory when Raphael messes with her memories.

jackrabbit by tomorrowsrain (15589,Teen) Warnings: past abuse (really, CW: Astarion :( ) Pairings: Astarion & Karlach, Astarion & Wyll

Astarion wakes up on the beach in the sun and realizes he has a chance at becoming a person again. Maybe.

Reccer says: Seriously one of the best examinations of Astarion's transformation during the game from the start of act 1 to mid act 2 that is out there. A treasure to read.

You'll hate me (make love) by astarionfreak (5305,Explicit) Warnings: Character About to Die, Smut, Sad and Sweet, Angst, Bittersweet Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Ascended Astarion pretends to be his spawn self as Tav's dying wish and they fuck on his grave.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Diary of a Dark Consort by NottaBear (8,619 and growing ,Mature) Warnings: Implied/Referenced sexual assault, emotional manipulation Pairings: Named Tav/Ascended Astarion

A found diary style story following the life of a Vampire Lords consort.

Reccer says: I liked it!

i still want to live by fetch_me_penguins (7750,Explicit) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Tav, Astarion & Jaheira, Tav & Jaheira

An angsty take on the premise of Cazador kidnapping Tav to replace the spawn she killed on the Ascension ritual and to teach Astarion a lesson on obedience.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Ruin. by Thedrowlock (3859,Explicit) Warnings: Major character death, smut Pairings: Astarion/f! reader

It's been five years since you left The Vampire Ascendant and everything he offered you, but now you're back to handle him. Why is that so hard?

Reccer says: I liked it!

Stolen Futures by onlymine139 (2530,General) Warnings: Major character death Pairings: Gale/Tav

Gale and Tav journey to Waterdeep to start their new life together, only to be interrupted by a devastating realization.

Reccer says: Just some good old fashioned heartbreak.

when the work needs doing, she will see it done by vampireposter (7940,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: The Dark Urge & Jaheira

A small neglected and abused child attempts to assassinate Jaheira, so she adopts her about it

Reccer says:

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! 

Next week, we’ll be back with Fluff Fics!

[takeyourdailydoseofcyanide]

They’re Right Outside The Door

TWs: physical abuse, verbal abuse, emotional/psychological abuse

Ao3 link

fandom: soul eater

characters: franken stein, original character(s), original male character(s), original female character(s)

word count: 2 309 (2 chapters)

tags: implied/referenced child abuse, physical abuse, emotional/psychological abuse, verbal abuse, canon-typical violence, dissection, crying, needles, hurt no comfort, rain, child neglect, title from a mitski song, angst

summary: Stein’s mother is not particularly fond of his dissection habits, actively trying to keep him from dissecting. Other shenanigans ensue. Stein is no more than eleven in this.

“We find… certain aspects of your personality to be.. concerning,” the echoing voice of a particularly foolish individual rushed through some dingy, sewage-filled tunnel in his mind.

Franken scoffed, snickering; the slightest, and yet most arrogant of smirks on his lips. ‘Get in line.’

******

The cotton of Stein’s socks and the fabric of his slippers squished with each step he took, the constant ebb and - primarily - flow of rainwater crashing down onto him more than welcome. Droplets ran eagerly throughout his hair, wiggling and subsequently plummeting off of the ends. The white of his pajamas had become transparent, the articles heavy and form-fitting.

He stood in the middle of the driveway, holding his arms out on each side, craning his head backward to come face-to-face with the crescent moon beaming sinisterly down upon him. He basked in the sensation of continuous streams of water hitting his forehead, cupping his cheeks, rolling down his jaw, and fleetingly caressing his carotid arteries. The perpetual tension in his body billowed out of his pores to the sound of chirping crickets, rushing gusts of wind, and complete solitude.

He dreamily sighed to nobody but himself, chest rising and-

“Stein!?

Stein!

Get in here!”

-falling fast and hard, his arms following suit.

He rubbed the water into his skin for a moment, finding bits of fuzz, threading, and silver strands just as stuck to his hands and arms as glitter, eyeing the smacking of the rain against concrete and mounds of dirt just one last time.

******

“I don’t know what in the hell you were thinking going outside in the freezing rain at nearly two in the morning, but look at you! You’re soaked!”

Stein grimaced at the obnoxious whisper-yelling, the woman’s voice grating and scornful.

“You’re tracking water all over the damn house now! Nice going. …Seriously, why would you go out there without any sort of raincoat or anything- or at all, for that matter, in the middle of the night?!

…

Don’t tell me you were out there looking for something to dissect again, Franken.” Her marching ceased abruptly in the middle of the unlit hallway, her arms crossed over her chest and cheeks rosy, as she stared the young male down much like a predator fed up with chasing its prey.

Stein tilted his head up, staring, unresponsive, into her narrowing eyes. ‘Her pupils are awfully small,’ he observed.

The woman nearly cracked her elbow pointing at his bedroom, a harsh, burdened sigh barreling out of her mouth. “I want you to go in there, get some new clothes, go take a shower, and go back to bed. I better not hear the front door open again,” she wagged her finger directly in front of his face.

And just as she began stomping away, she whipped back around once more, sinking her nails into her wide hips through the soft, plush robe she adorned. “Oh! Yes! And consider the possibility of getting kidnapped before you even so much as think of doing something that stupid again! You’re smarter than that.”

Her slippers, then, dragged like jagged nails on an old chalkboard against the floor, as she disappeared into the shadows, having finally turned that blessed corner.

Stein, with a bit of a scowl, pushed the already cracked door to his bedroom open. A hoard of gruesome visuals and pure, unabashed sadism swarmed and muddled his thinking. And like sap, they stuck to the lobes of his brain, painting over the organ as though it was merely their canvas, unwilling to roll off like that rainwater certainly would.

******

Before he’d even had the chance to peel his eyelids apart and groan at the forceful morning sun, as usual, his parents’ adoration for fervent.. “debates” pierced his ears.

“You never spend any time with us!” The woman wailed.

“See, there’s this thing called ‘work,’ and me going there helps to keep this family afloat and not out on the streets,” the man returned the favor, though in a far calmer tone.

Stein balled his hands into fists, rubbing at his eyes. With a yawn, he escaped the blanket he was warmly cocooned in, tip-toeing into the chilly hallway and peaking behind the door, which had been left carelessly ajar.

They were standing in the kitchen in front of the oven, from which the smell of scorching food wafted, the room’s irradiant lighting accentuating the fury and self-righteousness in their glistering eyes and faces. The woman tightly gripped her waist, her back as straight as a perfect line, and her chin pointed up. The man was fussing with his already done-up tie, repeatedly peering down at his fancy little watch in a tizzy.

“Oh, is that why you jump at every opportunity to avoid us?” She scoffed.

“I was away on business!”

“And you have been for the last eleven years!”

The woman grabbed the sizzling skillet, dumping the charred bacon it held into the teeming trash can. She purposefully hit her shoulder against the man’s arm on her way over, to which he glared serrated daggers into her flesh and huffed an indignant “tsk.”

As she moved past him to switch the burning stove off, she mumbled, voice dripping with resentment and sardoniscism, “Maybe if you weren’t gone all the time, your kid wouldn’t be so maladjusted and nuts.”

In the blink of an eye, the man had seized her forearm, hand coiling around the limb and thoughtlessly squeezing, pulling her closer. A high-pitched yelp escaped the woman, her eyes wide and racing with fear.

“What did you just say?”

“Y-you’re hurting me-“

“And how many times has the kid been dehydrated to the point of hospitalization under your care?”

She seemed to be at a loss for words, her mouth falling open, only to close again. She didn’t avert her gaze from his wild one even once, her trembling body frozen in place.

Stein stayed as silent as a scurrying mouse, ignoring the palpitating of his heart which pounded in his ears and in his paling fingertips.

“Well, by now, he should be able to keep up with that shit himself! And at least I’m not dragging him all across the damn country! At least I’m even here with him at all!” A spark of bravery.

“God, you’re an idiot,” he exhaled something akin to a disbelieving and annoyed chuckle. “You act like he isn’t always alone regardless of whether I’m here or not.”

“And what exactly are you implying?”

“You know what I’m implying,” he stated in a low rumble, almost under his breath. His nimble hand released her arm and shot upwards, firmly taking ahold of her neck, gradually compressing harder and harder, constricting as though he were a famished boa.

Slamming her back against the counter, heavy breaths bursting out of him and fanning like hoards of smoke over her visage, he muttered, “I’m just imagining listening to you choke, squeezing and squeezing until you die, and watching as your lifeless body slips from my hands and hits the cold, hard floor.”

“……Maybe I.. was… wrong,” she struggled in between gasps and gargles, glistening tears welling in her eyes. “Maybe this is why he is the way he is.. you’re both… just the same. You being one step away from being a deadbeat sack of shit’s got… nothing to do with it. He’s just got.. too much of… you in ‘im.” The disdain and disgust with which she spoke overrode the trepidation and tension hanging like thick, opaque fog in the air.

A strange hole Franken couldn’t quite wrap his head around wedged itself into his chest, a tightness forming within it and clasping around his heart and lungs. He subdued the heat he felt rising in the very back of his eyes, swallowing, the girth of a baseball lodged snugly in his throat.

“I have to go to work,” the man ripped his hand away from her as if it had scalded him, wiping it off on his striped button-up with an expression of antipathy and passionate contempt.

The hinges of the front door squealed as it was swung open and promptly shut, the resounding ‘bang’ it produced leaving the house shaking.

Strained sobs bubbled, effervescent, in the back of the woman’s throat, swimming up and falling out from her quivering lips. “Ow!” She quietly shrieked, as she soothed tenderly over the burst blood vessels underneath the skin of her neck.

When she started towards the hallway, Stein remained still, biting on his index finger, a glimmer of curiosity within the recesses of his brain. And when she simply side-eyed him whilst dabbing away at the rolling tears staining her cheeks, he found himself wholly unsurprised.

The door to the master bedroom crashed hard in a manner not dissimilar to the front door, and Stein flinched, his brows scrunching and eyes squinting in muddied thought.

‘What about school?’ He wondered to himself amidst the dense haze they’d so often cast, truthfully a little more than restless. ‘Oh, well. …At least I don’t have to do it.’

Stein swayed himself gently on his feet, as he glanced around, nothing but the woman’s muffled weeping to fill the awkward silence nipping greedily at his viscera. Within him, he felt there was some sort of buzzing hornet’s nest, filled to the brim, being incessantly teased with the batting of a reckless child. Everything was soon put to a momentary rest, however, when a sudden flashing thought moaned louder than the woman: ‘She’s less likely to notice, or at least care, if I go out and find a worthy test subject… and then everything will be better, too.’

A mischievous grin etched itself into his countenance, his teeth begrudgingly relinquishing their hold on his abused finger. He studied the bite marks and even tiny spots of blood decorating the appendage, turning it back and forth in a circular motion.

‘Yes.’

******

Stein laid an old, shabby towel down onto the chilled driveway, shivering at the relentless wind sending pins into his reddening skin, as he carefully placed both a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and one of the man’s many needles upon the tattered surface.

He waltzed away from the area, the yellowing grass at his feet standing about as tall as the rain boots he absentmindedly sunk into mud. He glanced up as he bent down, admiring the world’s fogged disposition - a kindred, oscillating soul. He knew nearly all animals were deterred by and afraid of its waning and dimness, thus yanking the first thing he could visually process from the ground with a sense of blunted gratitude; an earthworm.

‘I haven’t seen one of you in a while,’ he observed with a giddy smirk how it writhed violently between his fingers, curling around them and effectively becoming a dirty, slimy ring.

He took the worm over to the towel, sitting down cross-legged. He unscrewed the lid of the bottle, sliding the syringe into the hydrogen peroxide. The needle swallowed the liquid with ease, the barrel dutifully becoming its temporary dwelling.

He dug the shining needle into the squirming worm, thrusting the peroxide into its body. It went limp, stiffening and twitching, as it changed from a maroon color to a mixture of greens and brighter reds. Stein laid the worm down onto the towel, observing as its foamy blood came rushing out through the tiny hole left by the needle.

“Fascinating,” he mused, giggling. He continued thrusting the needle in and out of the worm’s body, not letting up until a good five or ten minutes had passed, and until all of its blood had drained.

******

When he returned, pained whimpers could still be heard. They blended with the sound of the ticking wall clock, though they struggled to harmonize. He shut the door quietly behind him, as to not alert the woman to his waxing and waning presence, practically tiptoeing to his bedroom.

He’d found an injured bird, a blue jay, one of which he laid upon the towel sheathing his desk. It was barely alive, alive enough to heave a few breaths but far from alive enough to fight back - not dissimilar to the woman, he thought.

He gathered the necessary supplies he’d bought behind their backs, laying a few different scalpels and surgical scissors and such onto the table in a steel tray, an unusual smile plastered on his face.

He was feeling excitement, or at least something akin to excitement, for the first time in God knows how long.

That is, until he was so rudely interrupted.

“Stein! I heard you go out the front door!” The woman’s voice wavered, her weeping getting the best of her.

Evidently, he wasn’t quiet enough.

“Open this door right now!”

“Then why didn’t you come and get me?”

“Because-“

“Because you were crying?”

“…”

He lifted a no. 11 blade scalpel, twirling it before bringing the blade down to the bird’s thorax.

“I’m not opening this door. You’ve ruined my fun too many times,” he drawled proudly.

“Open the damn door, Franken!”

“No.”

“What are you dissecting?! Don’t tell me you’re using one of my kitchen knives. Open the door already! I won’t ask you again.”

“Good.”

The woman banged on the door with a certainly aching fist, rattling the locked knob as if it would do anything.

“Do you want to be grounded?”

“I truly don’t care. I have nothing to lose.”

“Argh,” she groaned, stomping away. “The moment you leave that room, you know what your father will do to you. I was trying to help you out.”

“He doesn’t care, though.”

And with one less distraction, being left entirely by himself and to his own devices, he pierced through the bird’s thoracic cavity, dragging the blade through its abdominal cavity, and tittering uncontrollably at the gushing blood as he pulled the animal slowly but surely apart.

[oddlylovingaddiction]

Yandere!Evon Malk x has common fucking sense, works by running the goggle Twimmer account, leftist!Reader

DO NOT SUE ME PLEASE. THIS IS SATIRE AND JUST FOR FUN…. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEA—

TW! KIDNAPPING, REFERENCED STALKING, BILLIONARES, IMPLIED FUTURE FORCED MARRIAGE??

You’ve been working for goggle for awhile. You’re okay at your job. You’re mostly customer support, which means you get screaming adults accusing you of stealing their wifi. However today you have been promoted to the job at goggle everyone envies. Running the Twimmer account for goggle. It pays really well. Which is good, you aimed for a high paying job to help homeless people in your spare time. You often provide for your community with a community garden, a daycare you run on the weekends with some of your favourite leftist tambourinlr users, and more. You’re just a hardworking, kind, person. Well. Usually…. you see you just found out that Twimmer is now owned by Evon malk. And you fucking hate billionaires, especially Evon Malk, because he’s a dumbass. You’ve already made several billionaires and companies lives more difficult (including goggle.) by egging their houses… So, you made a goal. You shall tweet bad things about Evon Malk. Using the goggle Twimmer account.

Day 1.

The first twimt and the twimt you would come to regret:

“Good morning Twimmer Users!” You start off light, calling Twimmer its true name and not whatever bogus Evon renamed it. Just Little pokes you know?

Day 18.

“Why does Twimmer look like an adult rated site…?” Good, you’re getting the hang of it. Really making fun of Twimmer was easy as shit so you didn’t have to do much.

Day 50.

“ @.Evon Malk is #BLOCKED by goggle!” That’s when you hit them, the big one for your 50th twimt. Of course everyone who was a billionaire D-rider was pissed however mainly everyone thought it was funny. After all of that, You decide to go out for drinks with your friends after successfully making fun of him for a whole 50 days. Little did you know… this action would have consequences…

As you were walking home from the bar suddenly BAM! you get hit over the head with a metal pipe and you crash out. The next thing you know you’re tied up on a chair in a dark room, you’re scared, rightfully so. You can’t see anything, other than the small crack of light from underneath the door… Suddenly the door opens, a stream of light blinding you, you scream but of course you have a mouth gag on…. then he enters…

EVON MALK?

You were flabbergasted.

“My love…” Evon Malk said as he quickly rushed to your chair and hugs your legs stuck on the chair. You were extremely confused… Evon Malk? Calling YOU his LOVE? He must’ve gone mad. “I saw those twimts about me… Ive always been in love with you but when you twimted about me I knew our love was mutual…” He caressed your face lovingly and you felt extremely confused, more confused than you were already. He undid your gag, you had no doubt there was no one who would come help you if you screamed. “What… how do you know me?” You whimper, you’re so close to tears and fucking biting off his nose but you don’t. “My mom picked you out when I was 10 from a large data base containing a list of potential brides. Of course I was originally going to rizz you up the normal way. However you already knew me. You already loved me. Honestly all that stalking was useless now but seriously I’m just glad our love was mutual.” He said kissing your cheek. You gag from the kiss. He gives you a foul look and puts back on your gag that you originally had on. “I’m going to pretend you’re just sick okay love?” He said smiling at you before he grabbed your chair and carried you out of the room and into his regular house.

You were so confused.

All you knew was that you probably wouldn’t be home anytime soon.

And you were right. The next thing you know you’re strapped to an alter being forced to marry Evon. But that’s for another story….

Part 2? Maybe at like 5k notes or when I get motivation LMFAO..

[aftgficrec]

anonymous said: I’d like to rec you ought to give me wedding rings by absolutelithops on ao3 to anyone whose looking for a good andreil proposal! Here’s a link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30371577/chapters/74874351

Sure, friend, here you go! - S

you ought to give me wedding rings by absolutelithops [Not Rated, 11398 words, complete, 2022]

Andrew has the damn thing for a year before he makes any use of it.

or

Three times Andrew almost asks a very dangerous question, and the one time he does.

tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: animal death, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced kidnapping

[serickswrites]

Pocket

Warnings: referenced captivity, referenced kidnapping, implied torture

Teammate One patted their pockets, "Where are my keys?" They said to no one in particular.

"On your desk," Teammate Three said loudly.

"Where you always keep them," Teammate two muttered under their breath.

Tensions were running high at the base as the days since Team Leader had been kidnapped stretched on. The team knew Whumper had grabbed Team Leader. The team knew what Whumper was doing to Team Leader. But they were powerless to stop Whumper.

Because they couldn't find Team Leader. Couldn't find Whumper. And until the team could find and extract Team Leader, they knew Whumper was taking their time hurting Team Leader. Exacting revenge for some perceived wrong that none of the team knew why.

And there was nothing they could do to stop it.

[thekingofthenameless]

Day 8: Chopping & Piling Wood

@flufftober

Length: 1.7K

Cws/Tws: Implied/Referenced kidnapping, child death. There’s also (temporary) character death that’s sort of graphic?

Ao3 link

Author’s Notes: I feel like my standards for what counts as graphic are wack sometimes lol. That’s what I get for reading dark content I guess. Also, my brain is stupid:

Me: Okay brain, this is Flufftober. Flufftober, got it? So just write fluff. My brain: 783 words of pure hurt! Me: …No-

Merlin:

He’s in the dungeon again. But he isn’t bound, and no magic suppressants are on his wrists. He’s still clothed. It’s not enough to keep panic from rising in his chest, because they could be around the corner, waiting to strike at any moment- No, that isn’t true. They’re dead. They’re dead. “And so is your baby.” The voice is cruel, coming out of nowhere, and a wave of grief crashes into him, his breath stuttering in a pathetic way that shows everything he’s trying to hide. Which one? An intrusive thought asks. Fear makes his heart ache, and it’s almost surprising that it isn’t bleeding, because Charlie isn’t here, and he has to find him and make sure he’s all right- What if he’s too late? What if his son’s dead like- A baby’s giggle suddenly echoes off the walls, mocking him, mocking his loss. Tears well up in his eyes, but he tries to force them down along with the lump in his throat. He can’t cry, can’t lose himself in the grief now. He still hopefully has one child to fight for. He conjures his sword and armor, staying still for a moment to take a breath, to allow the relief coursing through his body. They can’t hurt him now. They can’t. And they’re dead anyhow. He saw their bodies. They are dead, aren’t they? He tries to shove that thought away and looks around, wondering if anything will be curious about the brief flash of bright light. “Charlie?”  He calls telepathically, not willing to do it aloud yet. No one’s shown themselves yet, but it doesn’t mean that he’s alone. No answer comes.  Just like last time. And just like last time, he doesn’t know if his son is all right or not. He tightens his grip around his sword so his hand doesn’t shake, curling his other hand into a fist. His breath hitches despite his wishes, the damn tears refusing to leave. “Please be all right,” he tells his son, hoping that he’s unharmed and can’t hear him for some reason, that maybe he’s sleeping, that he’s just anywhere but here. He takes a deep breath. Charlie’s fine. Charlie’s fine. He can’t lose himself to panic like last time, make his son deal with the things he shouldn’t he’s his father he has to be stronger as the consequence of trying to protect him, but instead only ruining everything they’d built. He turns the corner, wondering what- His sword slips out of his hand, clattering against the stone floor. No no no no no no- It’s not real. It’s not real. He’s just hallucinating Charlie’s- Charlie’s corpse, head practically severed from his body- His shoulders shake as he takes in the gruesome sight, a sob finally breaking free. He can’t bring himself to run forward or pick up his sword, can’t bring himself to do anything but stare it because it can’t be real. They… they must have sneaked up on him, or maybe he was drugged- Finally, he takes a step forward, hoping he can prove that it’s just- just a horrible, vivid hallucination by touch. It feels like ages go by, and no time passes at all, but then he’s in front of his baby, trying to avoid the blood on the ground before giving up. He kneels, hands shaking as he reaches up. His gauntlets meet soft fur. It’s real. It’s real. Charlie’s dead. But it’s fine, it’s fine, because he can just fix it, just heal the wounds and bring his dragon back to life. He lets magic comes out of his hands, and it gently swirls around Charlie’s still form. A moment passes. Then another, and another- Why isn’t it working? It should be, but it isn’t, and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. More magic pulses, but it still doesn’t do anything, and what the fuck why isn’t it- Grief drowns him, a loud, heaving sob escaping his throat. “Fuck, Charlie,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Then he can’t say anything else as cries wrack his body, and he holds his son close, ignoring the blood staining his armor. His baby. His baby. He can’t lose him too.

He thinks of when he found him, of how he purred the first time he held him, of how he took him home and wouldn’t back down until his parents accepted the tiny kit abandoned in the woods, of how he fed him milk drop by drop until he grew strong enough to drink out of a bowl, of how he taught him how to read, to fly, of how he’s stayed this whole time no matter how sick he got- His baby. His baby. A soft breath wafting against his neck startles him, and he looks up to see Charlie, who’s watching him with concerned, gentle eyes, who rumbles softly when he sees the tears still streaming down his face, unfocused on the body in his arms. “W- what’s going on?” He asks, barely bringing his voice above a whisper. Has he finally gone truly mad? Is grief making him hallucinate this badly? Is the body in his arms fake? He doesn’t know, and he’s so tired. “It’s just a dream,” the possible hallucination says, voice sweet and comforting like the real Charlie’s would be. “I’m all right. I’m right here.” He feels his guard lower despite himself, and realizing it, this version of his son comes closer, sitting close enough for him to reach out and touch if he wishes. And he does, but… he doesn’t want to cradle his face, tilt it upwards to kiss his forehead while his hands are soaked in blood. “I can’t,” he says softly, forcing himself to not look at his irrevocably tainted hands, hoping his son will catch the meaning he can’t say. “You’ve cradled me before. You can do it again,” is his answer, putting his muzzle in his hands before he can pull away. Another sob escapes as he catches Charlie’s hidden meaning: “I don’t care about the blood. I care about you.” He moves closer to embrace his son, leaning against the massive, warm chest, and Charlie purrs loudly, nuzzling his hair. A few minutes of silence pass, with them just taking solace in each other’s presence. He closes his eyes, listening to his baby’s breaths, the thumping of his heartbeat. Then he abruptly wakes up, and he looks around to make sure that he’s really in his room, that he’s not there- “Merlin?” Charlie asks softly, bright and real and alive. Alive. His lip quivers, and before he knows it he’s looping his arms around Charlie’s neck as much as he can, taking shuddering breaths as he tries not to sob. His son rumbles gently, wrapping a paw around his legs and resting his muzzle on top of his head. They stay like that until he feels like he can breathe again. Charlie still stays close even as he loosens his grip, unwilling to let go yet. (Not that he minds.) “What time is it?” He finally mumbles, voice rough. “I’m not sure,” his son responds, yawning and stretching the wing not tucked under him. “I think it’s almost sunrise?” He nods as an acknowledgment, face brushing against fur. Taking a deep breath, he finally moves away and sits up. (He knows Charlie’s watching him with concerned eyes, but he can’t bring himself to say anything yet.) “Merlin?” His baby asks again. He sighs softly, removing his bonnet and placing it in his lap, before reaching for his locs to stroke them- Oh. He forgot. The ache in his chest grows, unbidden tears returning. A warm breath hits his shoulder before Charlie nuzzles him, and the affection meant to be comforting only makes him feel guilt. His son shouldn’t know as much as he does. He never should have seen the aftermath and everything else. Why wasn’t he able to just get up? “Thank you,” he says quietly instead of answering the unspoken words: “I’m here. Do you want to talk about it?” His son purrs in response, saying nothing for the moment. Silence (that’s far heavier than it should be) settles over them. Charlie pulls away so he can speak. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” he murmurs a few moments later, clearly making his voice non-confrontational. “What is there to tell?” He whispers. “You saw everything.”

“You aren’t talking to me as much as you used to,” his dragon immediately counters. “We don’t have anyone else near us, Merlin. You can’t keep hiding this.” He opens his mouth to argue before shutting it. Charlie’s right, of course. But he has to be- “You don’t have to be strong around me,” his son interrupts, reading his mind. “I’m supposed to take care of you,” he protests weakly. “And you did. You still do. Let me take care of you for once.” “But-” “But what? I love you.” The words are so simple, but they make him stop and look at his baby through his blurring vision, and Charlie smiles at him, sweet and warm and loving. Then he feels himself shatter (but in a good way, this time) and he reaches up to embrace his dragon, burying his face in the soft fur covering his chest as Charlie purrs loudly. “I love you,” his son says again, purring stopping, before he bends his head to nuzzle his neck. “I love you,” he continues, repeating his words and his actions until laughter, the first he’s made in a while, bubbles out of him. Then Charlie stops, purring restarting as he catches his breath. “I love you too,” he coos, pressing kisses to his face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never doubted that. I’m a fool.” “No, you’re not.” He raises an eyebrow, staring up at him. Charlie just stares back, refusing to back down. “You’re not.”  He shrugs, putting it aside for now. They uncurl from each other, Charlie finally freeing his other wing and stretching it as he stands and searches for something to wear. He looks at the nearly empty woodpile, deciding to wear an older tunic and pants. Once he slips them on, he retrieves his boots. Charlie waits for him, standing up and completing his stretching routine while he finishes getting dressed. Then he slips his ring off, turning it back into his staff before shifting it to an axe. Chopping some wood might work as something to calm himself even more, take his thoughts off of everything else at least for a while. Charlie bumps his shoulder with his muzzle, staying near him as they head outside, and maybe, just maybe, today can actually be a good day.

Taglist: @gaylightisminetocommand, @the-arson-author-gamer, @aroace-edward-elric, @falki-of-the-vanir, @figureitoutinthemorning

[riahlynn101]

Whumptober: Day Five - Alternative Prompt: "Broken."

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced kidnapping.

I just want to say, this story fought me. It's fairly short and I apologize if it doesn't make much sense. I might publish another story today just to make up for the low word count.

--

They say misery loves company.

Vanessa can’t disprove that. Not when she finds solace in Mike’s suffering. 

It reminds Vanessa so much of her own. 

The anguish of losing a sibling. 

That burning, fiery feeling of self-loathing. 

And the constant thought of, it’s all my fault. 

Of course, logically, it wasn’t. Neither of them couldn’t have done anything differently. They were both kids. 

Vanessa had been eleven at the time, and bedridden that particular day. Her brother was invited to a party. Technically, both of them were invited, but she had contracted a nasty stomach bug. So, her parents made Vanessa stay home. 

The boy that invited them, Gabriel, also went missing. 

Sometimes she thinks about how close she had been to sharing their fates. The what-ifs making her dizzy. 

What if I didn’t get sick. 

What if I went to the party?

What if Cassidy was the one that stayed home?

What if we both went missing?

What if…what if….what if….

Mike hasn’t shared much about his brother, or that day in general. It’s obvious even now, a decade-and-a-half later, it haunts him. 

“That day….we went to a park. I can’t remember why…” Mike trails off, as if actually trying to recall ‘why’ his family went there. 

“Mike,” Vanessa murmurs, trying to keep him on track. They don’t have a lot of time together. She got here late tonight, and her shift starts in an hour. 

“Uh….sorry…um….we went to the park. Me and Garrett were so excited.” Mike smiles softly at the table, a faraway look in his big brown eyes. “We played pirates on the playscape, tag, and….”

“And?” Vanessa presses, quirking a brow. 

Mike blinks, shifting in the chair. “And I was ‘it.’” 

Vanessa listens patiently. Taking in his shuddering breaths and wet eyes. 

“I…I was supposed to- supposed to find him, but I ... .uh ... .couldn't. I ran all the way to the parking lot. I thought maybe he hid under our car. He wasn’t allowed to, but since when do kids listen?” Mike chuckles a little at that, but his eyes remain fixated on the tabletop. “But when I got there I saw him in the backseat of someone else’s car, and they were driving away. I remember trying to chase after them, but I tripped. I think, maybe, I screamed. But I can’t remember very clearly after I tripped.”

Vanessa watches him closely. The words, ‘it’s not your fault,’ sit heavy on her tongue. But she knows from experience that he won’t believe her. Years of being told the same by therapists and counselors and every other adult didn’t make a dent in her self-blame. 

“My brother,” she starts, watching Mike perk up at the change of topic, “and I were close. I told you once that I used to come to this place as a kid.”

He nods. 

“Well, I came here a lot with my brother. Our parents couldn’t afford daycare and didn’t trust us enough to stay home alone, so they would just give us a few bucks and send us here.”

“Huh, very responsible of them.”

Vanessa makes a show of craning her neck to where Abby’s sleeping, curled up in the little fort Mike made. 

He coughs. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

“Anyways, so we spent a lot of time here.” It’s Vanessa’s turn to stare at the table. Memories rush back to her. The smell of pizza. Children cheering as the animatronics sang the same five songs over and over and over again. “Well, one day, my brother went to the pizzeria alone. It was a weekend, and we normally didn’t go on weekends. But my brother and I were invited to a birthday party. I….got sick. A stomach bug or the flu, I can’t remember now. So, I couldn’t go. My brother did though…” She bites her bottom lip to keep from crying. It had been years, almost as long as Mike’s brother’s been missing, and still, she can’t keep it together. 

Mike lays a gentle hand on top of her’s. He doesn’t say a word, but the concerned look in his eyes says it all. 

For once, Vanessa feels seen. 

Misery loves the company of broken people. And Vanessa, the most broken of them all, staring at the only other person she’s ever met that could rival that, would be a fool to deny that. 

[btheleaf]

"What's your problem with me?" Pemlin 👀

Okay this is another prompt that got out of hand and I've now created a whole AU in my head that I can't stop thinking about. Read it on AO3 Pemlin AU 2.5k words TW below the cut because it's honestly fucking ridiculous all the shit that needs to be tagged 😅

TW Rape/Noncon, Dubcon, Forced prostitution, implied/referenced underage prostitution, non-consensual drug use, addiction, kidnapping

Chapter one: The pickup (1.3k words)

The Satomobile pulled up to the corner the same way the others had that night, and the night before that, and the night before that… Pema couldn’t even remember how long she’d been trapped here under Thaki's thumb. Sometimes it felt like a year or two, sometimes it felt like an eternity. Recently, she had been longing for the house she grew up in, even if it had been nothing but a nightmare. She knew she would gladly trade that nightmare for this one. At least before she was able to read books and dream of a better tomorrow.

These days she wasn’t even allowed personal possessions. She knew exactly what tomorrow would bring; pain. Her life was always painful now. Whether whoever she got sold to for the night got off on hurting her, or no one wanted to buy her, and she would get beaten for being useless. Blissful were the nights someone purchased her time and they were a giving lover. But even then, her consciousness would recede so far into herself to prevent feeling the emotional turmoil of everything she was forced to do. There was always pain. She sometimes wondered what it would be like to live a different life, what it would have been like to be an air acolyte like she had set out to be, but she didn’t let the childish idea get ahead of her. This was what her life had to be now. Thaki was too powerful, too dangerous. She had accepted a while ago that it was better to just do what he said. At least the powders and pills and liquor took the edge off.

A mature female voice came from the rolled down driver’s window and Pema tried not to perk up too much. Experiences with women were typically less painful than the ones with men. Her heart skipped a beat when Thaki called her over. She made sure to walk the way the other women had showed her in the high heels. One foot directly in front of the other, hips swaying, back straight to push out her breasts. Thaki constantly insulted her for not having enough curves, but then he would be the first one to tell her that she hadn’t made enough money that week to cover her habit and food. Pema didn’t really mind as long as there was something to snort throughout the day. The newer model of the Satomobile excited her. If someone rich had picked her, she could probably afford to slip into oblivion for a day or two after Thaki coughed up some of the money.

“Come here, sugar tits,” the woman said from where she sat in the car.

Pema leaned into the window and tried to accentuate her cleavage while still looking casual. The lighting was terrible so far away from the streetlights and Pema couldn’t really see who she was talking to. The woman moved her hand up to touch her lips as she looked at her reflection in the flip-down mirror, but Pema couldn’t see much in the shadow, even with her pupils blown wide.

Thaki grabbed her exposed ass from where her tiny skirt had shifted up when she leaned over. She tried not to show outward signs of discomfort as he began to slip his fingers through her folds. She was his property, after all.

“Looking for a good time?” Pema asked as his finger slipped inside her.

“Kiss me,” the woman demanded. “I want to know your mouth is useful.”

The stranger’s hand was delicate on her chin as she guided her further into the car for the kiss. Pema tried to use her lips and tongue to show that she was more than capable of providing oral, and the woman returned the kiss with expert movements that excited her. Thaki rubbed the pad of his finger over her clit, and she was reminded to moan into the woman’s mouth. Pema knew it was unlikely that she would receive any pleasure from the encounter if she was purchased for the night, but she was still allowed to dream. Something passed from the woman’s mouth to hers. A small pill. Pema swallowed eagerly. She would be a fool not to. Drugs were expensive and typically made terrible experiences less memorable. Even if this was about to be a bad experience, at least the woman was kind enough to give her something.

The woman pulled back and looked at Thaki. “I’ll take her.” The car started again and she put her hands on the wheel.

Pema smiled, happy to have already gotten a dose of something and to not be left behind on the corner for the night. She gasped as Thaki yanked her back by her hair.

“This one paid a lot for you. Do what she says. Do it right, and do it enthusiastically,” he growled in her ear and Pema nodded rapidly. He released her and Pema went quickly to the passenger door, not wanting to make the woman wait.

The car slowly pulled off and Pema slipped her hand between the woman’s thighs as she drove. “What do you want me to call you?” Pema purred and slinked closer to nibble on her earlobe. In the passing lights on the road she could see two large scars running down the side of the woman’s face.

“Lin.”

Pema palmed her hand against Lin’s crotch and slid her mouth down her neck. “Okay Lin, what do you want to call me?”

“What’s your name?” Lin asked. Nothing in her voice even hinted that someone was touching her the way Pema was right now.

“Niya,” Pema lied gracefully and pulled back to see where they were going. The lights in her vision were doubled and she felt herself sway just from looking at them. “What did you give me?”

“Something to help you relax.”

Pema nodded, not sure if she liked the feeling of dizziness that was creeping into her mind. She turned away from the road, unable to tell where they were with all the starbursts in her vision. Lin hadn’t opened her legs wider, so Pema moved her hand up to her breast and began to massage the tender flesh there through her silk shirt.

“Do you wanna park, or go somewhere?” Pema was confused by how far away her voice sounded and it was getting harder to control her hand. Her eyelids grew heavy. “What was’n that pill?” Pema slurred and her body went slack. She slumped down onto the bench seat and was in and out of consciousness as the car pulled to the side of the road.

A door opened, closed, and then opened again. Pema felt hands on her pulling her from the car. She whimpered, thinking this is how she would die, that this woman was some kind of psycho that just wanted to drug her and dump her off a bridge.

“Please, don’t,” Pema begged weakly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, kid. Just relax.”

Pema felt herself moved to lay down flat on a soft leather surface. Something plush was draped over her from head to toe. She fought to open her eyes and move, but the effort didn’t yield any results. Every passing second made the waking world slip further and further away. The last thing she remembered was feeling the inertia of the car moving before she succumbed to whatever drug she had eagerly taken from the stranger’s mouth.

Chapter two: The wake up (1.2k words)

The pounding headache was the first sign that she wasn’t dead. Pema groaned and opened her eyes to see sunlight beaming in through massive windows. Her head rolled to the side to see who would be in bed next to her, but there was no one there.

That’s fine, she thought as she climbed out of the large, soft bed. This wasn’t the first time she had been drugged, and it certainly wasn’t the first time she had woken up alone. She knew when she took the unknown pill last night that there was a chance something like this could happen. She was mostly just grateful she was alive, and moving around proved that she was no worse for wear. She found her body to not be in any more pain than usual.

The marble floor was cold under her bare feet as she stepped off the plush rug surrounding the bed. She was surprised to find herself fully clothed, or as “fully” clothed as she was allowed to be these days with the cropped shirt that showed off her mid drift and the wrap skirt that barely provided decency. What was unusual was that whoever had her last night bothered to dress her afterwards. A quick look around revealed that she was definitely in the rich part of town. The room was easily bigger than her childhood home. The windows ran from floor to vaulted ceiling, and she was willing to bet the small door off to the side led to an en suite.

Pema shook her head and sighed. It would have been nice to have a memory of partying in a house like this. She found her heels on top of a trunk at the base of the too big bed and picked them up, making for the tall double door. Getting back to Thaki before noontime was going to be difficult if she was on the other side of the city. She turned the knob, but the door didn’t budge. She tried again, thinking she must still be feeling the effects of whatever drug the woman had given her, but the door wouldn’t move no matter how many times she tried. She backtracked to the other small door off to the side, thinking maybe that was the true exit, but that only revealed a comically large bathroom. Pema went back to the door in the main room. She dropped her heels and started pounding her fists on the thick wood.

“Someone help! You left me in here! Let me out!” She waited a moment before trying the doorknob again and rattling the door with all her might. She kicked the wood in frustration and went to go check the windows.

The first window didn’t open, neither did the second, it wasn’t until the third unsuccessful attempt that she finally looked out and saw where she was. Acres upon acres of green grass and lush plant life waited for her behind the glass. There was a tree line far off on the horizon and no matter which direction she looked, she couldn’t see the city skyline. The ground below looked much too far to jump to.

The sun was too high in the sky, she was going to be extremely late meeting Thaki after she figured out where the hell she was, and he was going to be furious. The scars on her back decided to ache in that moment, almost like they knew more would join them soon. He liked to use his water whip on her for every minute she made him wait. A shiver went down her spine and she froze in fear for a moment. If she was too late going back, he would probably find some new cruel way to give her frostbite. She screamed in frustration when the last window wouldn’t open either. She ran back to the door and started pounding on it again. Why couldn’t these damn rich people keep track of their prostitutes?

“Hello!? Can anybody hear me?!”

The door swung inward suddenly, and Pema jumped back in surprise. The woman with facial scars from last night came walking into the room with a stride and air about her that made her seem larger than life. With a movement of her hand, the door closed and locked behind her. Pema backed up as the metalbender kept stalking towards her. She searched her mind to remember the woman’s name as her knees hit the trunk at the foot of the bed and she fell into a sitting position. The woman finally stopped moving. Pema’s wary eyes met cold, pale green ones, and the name finally came back to her. Lin.

“I have to go now. You only paid for one night.” Pema’s voice was a rehearsed calm even though the panic was setting fully in for how completely fucked she was right now.

“Do you want to go back?” Lin asked.

“Yes.”

Lin frowned at her. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Pema stood. “I have to go back.”

“What’s your name?”

“I told you last night. My name is Niya.”

“Another lie.”

Pema frowned. Of course she’d get paired up with the mean-looking metalbender who was rich beyond belief, a truth seer, and for some reason intent on kidnapping her. “I need to go,” she said urgently as her eyes flicked to the door.

“How old are you?” Lin asked.

“Twenty.” Pema responded as she had been trained to do. She didn’t actually know how old she was anymore. She figured it had been a couple years since she ran away, and when she left home she was fifteen-ish… maybe. That was a guess too.

Lin hummed and her eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t put you a day over eighteen, if that. Are you an addict?”

“No,” Pema said quickly.

Lin tutted in disapproval. “I’ll call my healer. She can be here in a couple days, hopefully your withdrawal symptoms aren’t too bad.”

Pema swallowed hard. “What’s your problem with me? Why are you doing this?”

“When you open your mouth without lying, I’ll start answering questions. For now, there’s clothes in the closet and I’ll bring you something to eat soon.” She turned on her heel and the door opened with another movement of her hand.

“Wait!” Pema ran after her.

Lin turned around and slid into a steady stance as she brought her arms up. A small piece of metal came out of what Pema thought was an abstract structure at the side of the room and wrapped around her ankle, rooting her in place several feet from the exit. Lin stood back up to her full height, her face an expressionless mask. Pema pulled on her leg, trying to make it move.

“Why won’t you let me leave?” she yelled as tears filled her eyes.

“You’ll thank me later.” Lin turned to walk away.

“Wait!”

Lin turned around and stared at her.

“Wait—I’ll—we can make a deal. Call Thaki and tell him where I am, that you need to keep me for longer. I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll do anything you want. You can do whatever you want to me.”

Lin frowned and left without another word. Pema could hear the lock in the door sliding into place as she pulled desperately on her leg until the metal cut her skin.

“No! Stop!” The hold on the metal released, but the piece remained wrapped around her ankle. She lunged for the door and tried the knob and pulled as hard as she could. “Please! Don’t do this!” Her hands began to ache as she slapped and punched the unmoving heavy wood. “Let me out!” she screamed desperately and fell into sobs. It didn’t seem like Lin was coming back no matter how much noise she made. She slid down the door and curled her legs up to her chest, hugging them tightly as she cried. Blood trickled from her new shackle down onto the floor. Thaki was going to kill her… if Lin didn’t do it first.

[searchingforserendipity25]

Vigil. idril & aredhel. ao3.

TW: references to kidnapping, implied/referenced sexual assault.

"Aunt," said Idril, rather stiffly, where once she would have used her name, and would not have asked at all. "Might I join you?"

Aredhel fought the urge to bare her teeth, and kept her eyes on the crowded clouds above.

Pink-washed and round-bellied, west-bound. The wind was fierce with currents only clouds and birds sailed, but the courtyard Aredhel had chosen for her rest was well-sheltered, the stone rich with heat.

It had been some effort, to go the long way alone; but she had a cane, and a son to lean on. She had been weary and pained enough to send the son gladly away; and be gladdest of all to be alone.

She heard Idril come, her silver feet making their familiar song upon the mosaics of Gondolin's courts. That was more kindness she was used to in Nan Elmoth, where many things scurried, and few gave a warning of their proximity.

A glorious warmth seeped into her bones. She had been so cold, in Nan Elmoth. Not a first - but it was a damp mist that sank through the skin, a dizzying weariness. Sunlight - only occasionally. Eöl kept to the starlit-ways. 

Aredhel had kissed Arien Sun-Star once, and crowed to voicelessness when first she saw hard land, and thawing frost. She had missed this - it made her angry so. What a waste of years she might have spent otherwise.

And still Idril was waiting. It was not kind, to set a test upon her; but Aredhel could not do otherwise. And it was good to know Idril would wait; that she was not so changed as to have lost her persistence.

"Sit, if you like," Aredhel said. "I am not your master, to tell you what you might do."

Her voice sounded rough with long illness to her own ears, but she took her time gathering it in her throat, made it strong. In her sujourn under the curling boughs of Nan Elmoth, it had been needful to speak, and always it had been done with effort. She might have forgotten the sound of her own words, let them fade entirely.

Was he your master, then, Idril thought. Were you not free to do as you would, even to sit in the sun?

Aredhel did not hear it, but she knew her niece. The same wisdom that kept Idril's thought away from the walls that Aredhel had raised about her mind would make her draw conclusion. 

Not the wrong ones. They spoke in Sindarin. Aredhel was not certain yet she would speak the language of her people again; if she could, even inside the high walls of Gondolin, where Quenya was used in the market, in the king's chambers, in songs of devotions.

Gondolin's benches were wide and sturdy enough; two might lay abreast, and not touch.

Idril's hair smelled of laurel and honey, still. Few things had made Aredhel's eyes sting on her return to Gondolin. The white stone shimmering in the heat had been a great relief, but an indifferent one, as a hunted beast might feel at the sight of a cave or a tall branch. Now only did Aredhel feel - how familiar it was. This smell, Idril's closeness, the whirring machinery of her mind close enough they might have shared a moment of wry understanding, as they had so many times before.

They did not touch.

Now a small army of cirrocumulus overhead, sweet clouds all following on one another. She had tried to teach Lómion the different cloud names, but he had not the love for the skies that she did. Her son was busy in the forges. He had found his source of warmth, learned at his father's side. Aredhel had loved him less the day she understood he would not need to live as she did.

Possibly her measuring scale of love had grow skewered. O, now Turgon never would allow her out! But the worst of it was that she was tired. Not her wound alone caused it, though that healed slowly regardless.

 She willed herself to see it - herself on horseback again, crossing fields of clover, narrow passes. Her body thrummed with exhaustion at the thought of it. 

The high noon sun pressed against their lids, turned the world to a blinding gilt. Idril surely felt Aredhel's fever rising, the warmth that rose from her skin; but Idril was wise, and knew how to measure her silence. Aredhel had forgotten a little, how worthy her niece was.

At times dark shadows swirled overhead through the clouds. Slow, broad wings high above, coming from all corners of the mountainside.

The vultures that fed most often by Amon Gwareth had flown days ago to the city walls for a feast: Eöl, they cried. Eöl is dead. More and more came, eager, hungry.

 As a widow she had woken from near-death, knowing with rare foresight that her body would not be her own, and whole and hale again, until Eöl was eaten entire, bowels and eyeballs and marrow. Aredhel of Gondolin waited.

It was a good wait; long enough to learn the skies again, to be sun-warm all the way through.

She touched her fingertips lightly to Idril's, when it was done, and felt her stir, her thought turning to Aredhel, a constrained joy and grief and relief. But Aredhel was in no hurry, and did not wish to open her heart again, nor leave to return to her chambers; not till the last birds of rapine were borne slowly away in the wind.