#tw: nudity mention

[headcanonsandmore]

Some perfectly normal Doctor Who factoids

The Master is canonically Rasputin.

Time Lords can all levitate and fly. The Doctor seems to forget this.

The Doctor is canonically Merlin.

There are two different explanations for the Loch Ness Monsters.

The Doctor once had a talking penguin as a companion.

Vampires are a canon species.

Tegan and Nyssa have such a strong queer subtext to their friendship that there is a wiki page online dedicated to it.

Speaking of Nyssa, she once got turned into a vampire and became obsessed with eating Tegan.

Ace McShane once fell in love with a cat-girl.

The Doctor is both a semi-mythical figure in the founding of time lord society, as well as also being the reason for the time lords having regenerative abilities. They are also just a run-of-the-mill time lord who ran away from Gallifrey. All of these are equally canon.

The Doctor once broke the fourth wall to wish the viewers a Merry Christmas.

The Third Doctor knows various martial arts.

It's implied that Time Lords cannot get drunk on alcohol unless they drink ginger beer beforehand.

The Eighth Doctor was once sentenced to death and promptly demanded to die in the nude.

The Doctor effectively kidnapped their first companions.

Time Lords reproduce via a technology known as looms.

[xtinyslip]

"ALL I CAN SAY IS THAT IT WOULDN'T BE AS IMPRESSIVE AS ME NAKED." she shrugged her shoulders, offering him a slight teasing smile at that. it was strange to smile, to joke and act like everything was fine when they were the only one who knew just how wrong things were. still schenk wasn't going anywhere -- the cocky little shit and so she supposed they had time to plan this properly. ensure no one else got hurt and to make sure they nailed him once and for all. "not how i remember it and pretty sure if bos was here he would agree with me. you're the one who likes to hide behind being a rogue. huh?" she gently nudged his shoulder. "i don't mind you being rogue, unless you're interfering with work and being a pain in my ass but what's new?" her tone was teasing but what was new? it was the same cycle they caught themselves in and clearly it worked. they hadn't driven each other away yet. "honour demands shit of you here. not when it's me. it's fine, seriously." it beat being hunched over her desk which was where she'd spent the last several weeks worth of her nights. "it's the second best whiskey i own. figured we deserved to give ourselves this much? the first? is being saved for you know..." when they catch him. @lcvenderhcze

[afoolandathief]

Day 22 & 23 of Nano

WIP: Something Wicked

Status: Rewriting

NaNo profile: afoolandathief

NaNoWriMo 2022 Goal: 250 words a day

Words written: 83 yesterday, 799 today; 882 total

NaNo WC total (not counting prior work): 7,089

Total WC for rewrite: 40,333

So I didn't write anything for Something Wicked for three straight days, and when I finally restarted yesterday I barely got anything down on the page. Today I finally made some progress, mostly because I got to put these disaster bis through some chaos. >:)

Excerpt and taglist below ↓

(TWs for language, dead animals, and a slight mention of nudity)

One of the mountains was moving toward them. A mountain with muscles where boulders should be, with dark forests of body hair and rounded hillsides of flesh.

“A car, maybe?”

Caz twisted around to where Jade was still looking at the dead cow.

“Like, maybe it was just someone with an SUV or a truck who mowed down the cows,” she went on, one hand in her hair, the other held out before her. “But — that wouldn’t explain the buildings.”

“Jade, we need to get out of here.”

She crossed her arms and fucking rolled her eyes at him.

“You really can’t stand a little bit of -”

“Jade Shaw you Goddamned oblivious witch!”

He held his arms out, gesturing to the moving landscape before them.

“The dame! Big fucking dame coming right for us!”

Jade stared past him at the giant, her face shifting from confusion to shock to an apparent fascination. She stumbled back as the ground began to shake.

“Oh,” she said.

Something Wicked taglist (ask to be +/-): @author-a-holmes, @avian-writes, @ceph-the-writing-spook, @diphthongsfordays, @drippingmoon, @ellierenae, @faelanvance, @fearofahumanplanet, @flowerprose, @houndmouthed, @joaniejustwokeup, @leiwritess, @mjayatlas, @purplezebraproductions, @rhymingteelookatme, @somealienquill, @thegreatobsesso, @thelaughingstag, @vylequinne, @writing-is-a-martial-art

General taglist (ask to be +/-): @jezifster, @athena-anna-rose

[romanrhodes]

Roman had managed to tear himself away from other people before Andrew had. He sat at the edge of the room, people-watching, then flashed his boyfriend a small smile as he approached. "I'm ready to go." He admitted, reaching out his hand and letting Andrew pull him up beside him. It was nice getting to see so many familiar faces, but he'd been away since 5.00am, and he was mentally wiped out. All he wanted now was a bit of private, quiet time with the man he loved, and a nice, soft bed.

"I'm gonna have a hot shower when we get back." He told Andrew as they left the main function room, holding hands as they walked through the many corridors of the hotel to find their room. Roman kicked off his shoes almost immediately, then started pulling off his clothes. His chef whites and t-shirt were already in a small, tucked-away heap on the floor, and the rest quickly followed until he was naked. He gave Andrew a quick kiss as he passed into the bathroom, grinning against his cheek. The shower was hot and strong, the kind of water pressure that made Roman want to replace the pipes at the farmhouse. He scrubbed himself thoroughly, including his hair and his hands, exfoliating and getting in with a nail brush to remove as much as he could of the trace of food. When he came out, he towelled himself and reappeared in a fluffy robe... that stopped just above his knee.

"That was just what I needed." Roman sighed, propping up enough pillows so he could flop down onto the bed, letting out an even deeper sigh of contentment. He looked at Andrew with a smile, his eyes sparkling. "But a kiss wouldn't hurt either."

His eyes closed when Roman nuzzled his cheek, sighing contently. He'd amused himself long enough without Roman by his side he felt fully recharged with the mere minute he had him back. "I'm like that sometimes, I take one for the team. Apparently I look skinny so she said I could have it all." He shrugged, though in his opinion he was starting to climb up a little again, eating more consistently now that he lived with Roman, albeit temporarily.

"I'll come with you." He announced, getting up alongside him. He was determined not to leave his side for a while and he did, spending his time with him for their drinks, for a dance or two, chatting with people and so on. It was well after midnight when he tore himself away from chatting with two colleagues when he made his way back to Roman, giving him a sheepish smile. "I'm headed for the room. You coming with or are you staying a little longer?" @romanrhodes

[samrut]

warm up - can't hand today

[3-2-whump]

The Scent of Jasmine

<prev next>

Who's in the mood for some carewhumping after the emotional rollercoaster of almost dying? I know I am!

Thank you @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for being awesome beta readers

TW/CW: aftermath of mock execution, trauma aftermath, extremely dubious consent, nonverbal whumpee, whumper turned carewhumper, dubiously consensual nudity, death threats, chastity devices (yes, it’s back), forced domesticity, food whump (sort of) (tagging it anyway to cover my bases), intimate whumper

The boss noticed Khaled’s grateful enthusiasm slowly fade into a catatonic silence on the drive home. He didn’t think much of it, though. Poor boy is just shocked is all, he told himself, we can work on that. He parked, got out of the car and led Khaled out of the garage and to the elevator.

His first order of business was to strip Khaled when they got home. The poor thing was soaked in melted snow and cooled piss. He was barely responsive as Thomas pulled him into the laundry room and slowly peeled each layer of clothing off his shivering body. “You need a bath, Khaled.”

Khaled didn’t reply, instead opting to stare at his bare feet with empty, starless eyes. I can’t blame him for being quiet. Anyone would be a little messed up after a mock execution, he figured. He sighed, gently taking the slave’s hand in his and leading him to the master bathroom.

Once inside, Thomas deposited him at the entrance and turned on the lights and the fan. Khaled stood silently watching him by the door as he knelt by the large, deep bath tub. “Come on in,” he beckoned. Khaled inched closer to the bath tub as Thomas poured a generous glug of bubble bath solution into the marble expanse and cranked the water full-blast, making micro-adjustments to make sure the temperature wasn’t too hot. As a finishing touch, he uncapped a tiny bottle of jasmine oil and dripped a few drops into the tub. The floral scent rose on the plumes of steam coming from the frothing tub.

Once the tub was full enough, Thomas turned off the tap and pulled Khaled closer to the tub. He effortlessly scooped the young man’s cold body into his arms, settling him on the edge of the bath tub before gently lowering him in. “I’m going to help you wash your hair and body. Nod if you understand me.”

Khaled faintly nodded, eyes fully closing as he slumped into the soapy water. “Good boy.” Nothing but a small, contented sounding whimper answered him. At least he’s becoming verbal again.

Thomas methodically washed the young man’s body and hair, being mindful of not getting any soap in his eyes as he massaged his scalp with the shampoo. He noticed the newly forming chafe marks on Khaled’s wrists as he scrubbed his body. All the while he whispered sweet nothings into his ear, like “good boy, you’re being so good right now, we’re almost done, I gotta rinse you off and drain the tub next.”

The awareness in Khaled’s eyes was flickering back on once Thomas helped him out of the bath tub and began towel-drying him. “Back with me, beautiful?” he teased.

“Mmm.” Inky dark eyes glittered up at him from dark lashes and damp strands of black hair as Thomas wrapped a soft fluffy towel around his shoulders.

“Yeah, good. Very good.” He procured something small and metallic from behind his back.

Khaled instinctively backed away as soon as he saw what it was. “Khaled,” he warned. It was all he needed to say for the boy to stay rooted on the spot. “I haven’t forgotten about you running around and getting an STD,” he explained as he wrapped the cock cage around Khaled’s privates. “And I’m still mad about it. But maybe I will let you out once we’re both all better.” He padlocked it in place and held the small caged appendage in his hand. “Or once I put that dumpster lover of yours under, like the horndog he is. Whichever comes sooner.” He marveled at how it was but a microcosm of Khaled’s greater captivity. As he craned his gaze upwards, he saw Khaled pout. “Oh, don’t give me that look –I’m doing this for your own good!” The boy smoothed his frown back into a neutral expression of apathy as he hid his eyes behind his lashes.

“That’s more like it. Now, can you change into your pajamas and wait in the living room until Master is done in here?” He measured out his words slowly and carefully, explaining it as if Khaled was a child again. Another quiet hum answered him. “Good boy. When I’m done, we can eat, and then we’ll watch whatever you’d like.” He gestured him out with a small wave of the hand, then hopped into the shower for a quick rinse off himself.

When he got out of the shower, towel-dried himself, and changed into a fresh pair of flannel pants and a wife-beater tank top, Thomas made his way to the living room, where Khaled sat on the floor, at the foot of the couch, gazing down at the carpet with desolate eyes. He was still wrapped in the bath towel. Seeing him there brought back memories of when Khaled was younger, when he would lean against his shins and let him brush his thick black hair. The memory brought back fond feelings in Thomas’ chest. He turned around and went back to the bathroom for a hairbrush.

Once he was done brushing his slave’s hair, they ended up sitting opposite each other at the dining room table, each with a plate of reheated takeout from a new Indian restaurant Tom had wanted to try. While the boss himself ravenously devoured the bhuna ghost, Khaled kept tearing the same corner of buttered naan between his fingers while staring apathetically at the murgh cholay.

“Are you sure you don’t want any more food?” he asked again. “You hardly touched your portion.”

The boy merely shook his head.

“Come on, at least two more bites, Khaled,” he coaxed. “Give me at least two more bites before I put it away.”

Khaled cast him an empty, weary stare, not breaking eye contact as he tore off the weathered chunk of bread, dipped it into the curry, and ate exactly two more bites.

They ended up cuddling onto the couch together after dinner, a rarity in their household. Thomas man-spread on the couch and rested his arms outstretched along the back. Khaled, still wearing nothing but a damp bath towel around his shoulders, leaned against his side with his head resting on his chest. His hands curled around a steaming mug of chai, which he occasionally sipped as they watched a rerun of the AFC World Cup. Khaled didn’t cheer, or groan, or offer any commentary of any kind throughout the whole match. It was unusual for Khaled to remain this quiet and glum during a game. Thomas gently took the mug from his hands and set it on the table. “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet this evening? Is it –oh, is it because of that little scare off the side of the road?” he guessed. Khaled pushed his weight up against him, just short of burrowing into the man’s side.

“I guess I scared you pretty badly, didn’t I? Look, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I know now it wasn’t you, but I had to be sure. I promise I will never fake you out like that again.”

The young man remained silent as he leaned against his chest.

“If anything, you should be blaming that boyfriend of yours,” he continued. “I bet he never would’ve attempted that hit if he knew what I was about to do to you tonight. But, what’s done is done, and now you’ll never see him again.”

Khaled did not respond.

It took about an hour more of mind-numbing soccer footage for him to realize the boy had fallen asleep on him.

Oh. He softly smiled as he turned off the TV. He carefully got up and lowered Khaled onto the couch, disentangling the towel from his unconscious, nude form. He propped a throw pillow behind his head, then unfurled a fleece blanket and draped it over him, making sure his feet were covered and he was properly tucked in for the night. “Goodnight, Khaled,” he whispered, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on the side of the boy’s parted lips. “I… love you...”

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

[xtinyslip]

"when it comes to you, me and hot tubs? when i am ever not serious?" of course, he was grinning. hearing her jest, he brought a dramatic hand to his heart as if her words had actually hurt him. "bloody charming." he joked, in return. the truth was that he found amanda to be fantastic, she was someone he actively CHOSE to be around which said it all. not that he approved of the company she kept otherwise but as long as he wasn't being forced to spend time with them then that was fine, he supposed. "wow! well, i suppose all can be forgiven when you look like that! although, were we supposed to be wearing clothes?" would it have surprised anyone to find out he might be naked under those bubbles? well, it shouldn't. "do you like it?" he smiled, leaning across the other side to grab the wine he'd freshly poured for them ; holding out her glass to her. "i am never wrong. not about this." @moonglowmuses

❛ Aww, you wanna come in the hot tub with me? ❜

amanda could not help but to grin. she couldn't believe her ears right now. "is that a SERIOUS offer?" amanda asked, cracking a smile. "no one could pay me enough to get in a hot tub with you." she was joking, of course, but it was fun to try to get under lucifer's skin, that was for certain. "give me a second to change and i'll jump in with you." amanda disappeared only for the length of time that it took for her to slip on a one-piece black swimsuit. when she stepped outside, the air was frigid, but when she settled in the water, she sighed contently. "god, this is nice," she admitted. "you were right to DRAG ME IN HERE."

@xtinyslip

[xtinyslip]

❛cue creepy murder music. i knew i was missing something. ❜

luci found the other to be rather refreshing. all those human emotions and habits flying around. ugh, it all got quite dreary and tiresome. besides, where had any of it gotten him in the end? HURT and hurting him was no easy feat, let him tell you. stefan was free of all of that, just like he was and although at times it was quite pitiful to see the struggle; even though it was clear as day stefan wasn't even aware of it. the rest of the time it was good bloody fun. that he knew. "at it again, i take it?" all he could do was chuckle, not caring that his robe was open and he was naked underneath. why should he care? he knew it was a fine sight, indeed. "that's not all your missing! come, sit? fill up a glass. my finest is out." gesturing to the whiskey on the counter. "i suppose it being you and all, that i might just be willing to share." @lcvenderhcze

[ashdoeswhump]

Tws: abuse, implied noncon, non-sexual nudity, blood mention, restraints, alcohol

Some summer whump ideas for you:

Whumpee is forced to lie out in the sun for hours without sunscreen or even clothes as punishment. Their skin burns and peels. Maybe they were tied down, so they have stark white lines cutting through the red.

Whumpee is made to wear a long sleeved shirt and long jeans while working. They're covered in sweat, and whumper tells them how gross they are, how filthy and smelly and sticky.

Whumpee is the guest of honour at whumper's pool party, wearing a revealing bikini/speedo for the guests to coo over and stare at. Whumper's friends force them to drink alcohol on an empty stomach, to dance for them, to go in the water where no one can see the guests' straying hands.

Whumpee's cell has awful insulation, so all the sweltering heat comes in. Salty sweat mixing in with the tears and blood. Maybe they're in a stress position, their muscles already burning from exertion, the heat just making everything worse.

[helpfandom]

prompts 15+20 for norman bates?

Changed it a little, just so it fit better. :D

@lonleydweller for introducing me to him.

tw: Religious mention, suicide mention, nakedness but non sexual.

🥀15. "I cut the phone line. I knew you'd try to call someone.."

🥀20. "I thought you'd know better by now.. looks like it's back to square one."

°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°

°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°

Rain, pitter pattering down your windshield, blocking vision and making roads slippery. Naturally, as a good driver, you slowed down, turned on your lights and kept slowly driving until it was safe to stop, stopping at a place called, "The Bates Motel". Well, the rain wasn't going to make driving safer, so you slowed to a roll and stopped in the parking lot.

Looking around, the place was desolate, lonely and a little decrepit, but still useful for it's purpose. Just... look around the bed before slipping underneath the covers.

Going inside the office, wood creaking at the doorstep, you go inside, eager to find shelter to sleep and escape the rain. No one's there. The bell rings from a hand touching it, and still, no reply.

Looking outside, the house upon the hill has lights on, no sound to be heard over the roar of the rain. Perhaps...? Hitting the horn in the car, just three times, as so not to be too rude, perhaps they were simply lulled to sleep by the rain.

The door to the house opens, and a man runs down the steps, haphazardly carrying an umbrella as he runs. "Sorry! Sorry!" He yells as he nears you, a small, apologetic smile on his face.

"We don't get many visitors, and well... I didn't expect one tonight." He says as he fumbles with his umbrella whilst attempting the door. Opening the door yourself as to help him, he whispers a thank you with a smile upon his lips. "T-thank you."

He slips into his comfortable role as a helper and seems far more comfortable now that he's in his natural role. "A- a room?" You nod, "Yes, the rain... I didn't want to drive at night with the rain." He nods in an understanding, "That's quite fair, let me fetch a room for you, don't worry, although we don't get many visitors, we-" He coughs, "-I, regularly clean the sheets, that way no nasties come in."

A smile appears on your face, after all, who says "Nasties"? How odd. "Oh, let me get your things! I'm so sorry I'm forgetful." You wave him off. "No, sir. I got my things right here, I got them while you were coming down from the house, that way it would be easier."

A smile quirks upon his face. How... nice of you to do that. "O-oh. Thank- Thank you." He seems to be taken aback, but quickly he slips on a familiar mask and readjusts. "Well then, Here's your key, Cabin one for the first cabin. Or if you want another you can have it, twelve cabins, twelve keys."

You gush, "Oh, no, it's okay mr.??" He chuckles, redirecting himself. "Bates, Mr. Bates, but call me Norman, Mr. Bates was my father. Before he died." He coughs, recognizing the uncomfortable situation he created. "Ah well, go unpack your things in your room, I'll whip up some food for us."

As he goes to leave, you hand him his umbrella. "For the weather, Norman." He clucks his tongue, realizing he almost ran out into the rain. "Ah, thanks." He smiles at you and begins his trek back up to the house.

Smiling to yourself, chuckling at such an odd, forgetful man, you bring your bags into the motel room. The door creaks and the floor whines with the pressure of weight put upon it.

The room smells of bleach, emphasizing his statement earlier about cleaning, and so you open the window, hoping that the wind from the rain might bring down the smell of cleaning agents. The rain has now died down and settled, leaving petrichor emanating from the ground.

Yelling comes down from the house, "Mother! They are nice-" Not wanting to eavesdrop, you focus on your baggage instead, setting them down and getting some clothing out for sleeping. Picking up a stuffed animal that you always carry with you, you set it to the side for you to sleep with later. Of course, it's hard to tune it out when it gets louder. "But Mother, They care and it's not-"

"I don't care Norman! God didn't give you a sibling!" Turning away from baggage and towards the bathroom, you begin to inspect, looking up and down the walls for creepy crawlies, but there are none, and so your sights are set onto the bed. "But it might be nice to have a friend here, more than just you! You can get cranky-"

A huff from you and a rough slam of the door upon the hill can be heard, and you turn your attention back to the door, exiting your cabin and watching the man hop down the stairs with food in his arms. As he nears, a newer smile comes upon his face.

"Ah, I got some food for you and I, since it's late, and you're likely -hun-hungry." "Thank you, Norman. That's very nice of you." He nods his head, gesturing to his parlor, or rather, his office door. "Mind opening the door?" Clicking your tongue at yourself, you open the door for him, letting him slip into the room before you closed the door on the both of you.

He pushed open the door into a parlor of sorts, and set the tray of food onto a table intercepting two seats, gesturing for you to sit down before he does. Looking around, a lot of taxidermized birds rest on the walls in action poses, looking above you.

He seems to notice this, "Taxidermy, a hobby of mine." He says, laying down a plate in front of you while grabbing a plate for himself. "Ah, do you like birds?" He shakes his head, "No, they're just more common and easier to form, to shape into a form more pleasing." He smiles at his sentence, looking at you in such a manner only described as leering.

Taking a bite and swallowing roughly, you decide to mention what you overheard. "I happened to have overheard you talking to your mother, I had opened my window to air out the bleach-" he cuts you off, waving a hand. "Don't worry about my mother, she's just a lit-little... cra-cranky, today." You clear your throat. "Ah, okay."

Silence drifts down into the conversation as you eat, looming over the both of your shoulders.

He coughs, clearing his throat, "Do you think that p-p-people like soulmates exist? Some swans kill themselves after their p-p-partner -partner dies, so what do you think?" Looking around, you notice each stuffed bird in the corner, watching this interaction with dead eyes and a dead body. "Well, maybe, if it's really meant to be." He smiles at that, happy with your answer.

Silence settles again, and yet, it's unnerving, being worse than a comfortable silence, or even an awkward one, but it's rather like a forced one, not meant to be there.

Swallowing thickly from food, you finish you meal with a last bite and a drink from milk. He looks eagerly at you, "Did you enjoy it? It's momma's cooking!" Nodding, as so not to insult him. Putting the plate down, you stand up, stretching a bite and forcing a yawn.

"Well, it's quite late, I must go to sleep now for traveling later." He nods, a look flashing into his eyes at some of your words. "Ah, right. I understand, sleep well." Turning, you just barely miss a light flash in his eyes, an idea popping into his mind. "Good night, Norman."

Walking back into the room he gave you, it's hard to shake off feelings of unease, everything seems to set it off, the creaky floor, the whining door... You take the clothes you set on your temporary bed, and put them down, then realizing it better to shake the rain, and hopefully the feelings, off with a shower.

Shedding your clothes and stepping into the bathroom, you close the door, feelings of some sort ceasing now. Hopping in, you set the temperature to your preferred one, cleansing yourself.

Walking out with a towel wrapped around your body, you eagerly slink into your sleeping clothes, eager for warmth and comfort of clothing. You put the suitcase aside and slip underneath the the covers of the bed, body naturally huddling itself for warmth before stretching out and relaxing.

The night is quiet with wind, faint wind chimes in the distance tinkling together into a melody.

The soft covers slowly warming your body, warmth seeping into your muscle and bones, slinking into your spirit.

It feels... nice.

The wind chimes paired with a creak and a whine, it makes for a nice harmony-

a creak?

a whine?

Eyes snap open to see Norman above you, just before he swings his hands-

°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°

Your eyes flutter open, not recognizing what unfamiliar texture lies beneath their home, an alarm ringing throughout your mind. What? You tilt your head in all directions but not a single inch of what you see makes sense, none of it familiar.

The sun peeking throughout the window implies it's dawn, and it's through dawn's early light that you see Norman sitting beside you in a wooden chair. You twitch involuntarily upon seeing him, rattling the bed frame currently tied to you with rope.

He rolls his head up, waking with you upon hearing the noise. He eagerly smiles as he blinks the sleep away from his eyes. "Ah! You're awake! I know it- it make take some getting used to, but you'll fit right in with me and mother." He tilt his head at you, staring into you.

A moment passes.

He claps his hands together. "Well, I'll have mother whip something up special for us, after all, it's not everyday that a sibling is returned to family!"

You say nothing, watching him leave and talk to Mother, going down the stairs. You keep at it, jerking your hands and feet as much as you can to attempt to loosen the ropes binding you to the bed. You hear stomping up the stairs, a loud, high pitched voice telling at you. "Quit that racket!" A gasp, "Mother! Be patient, it's rough moving from one place to another. They're just a little freaked out, but that's okay."

°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°⁺⁎⋅❤︎⋅⁎⁺°

It's tough trying to maintain both Norman and Mother, with Norman's new insistence that you call him 'Brother' and her screeching at you when you make too much noise when Norman, the vessel for her, insists on being inside to do some 'family bonding time', and how Mother has to wash you, clean you, make sure you're healthy, all while Norman's eyes and body does this all.

It's been two weeks, and although something is off, today, Norman is gone, and has to be gone, a... reporter or detective has showed up, and now's your chance. He's trusted you enough to change out sheets and clean the motel, leaving you to your devices for just long enough to find a telephone while looking through the house.

Once you watch the other person enter the office, you dash to the room containing the telephone, desperately calling 911, but only a dead line remains.

A creak from behind.

"We cut the phone line. She knew you'd try to call someone... I didn't want to believe it, but Mother knows best."

He grips your hair in harsh vice grip, pulling your head back, dragging you down, not caring for the harsh bumps has he drags you down stairs. He throws you into a room with harsh, cold flooring.

"I thought you'd know better by now... looks like it's back to square one."

He slams the door, and despite your pleas, doesn't open it. You turn around, and find her, Mother. Kept there in a chair like a taxidermy doll.

A threat to you too.

[3-2-whump]

Falling Like Snow

<prev next>

The penultimate chapter, can you believe it? Break out the tissues for this one, folks.

Thanks again @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz, you two are the best!

Obligatory Author's Note: This is it, folks, the end of Tom's story. Sorry to those who wished for a miracle, and congratulations to those of you rooting for his demise. You know exactly what to do if you desire a different ending. Fanfiction, canon divergence -the world is your oyster, so just go for it! I encourage it, if anything! Just, you know, tag me or let me know in some way. But anyway, here we go

TW/CW: major character death, blood, gore (?) (tagging it just to cover my bases), aftermath of torture, cigarette whump (brief), emotional angst, slave whump, noncon nudity (in the first half), Stockholm Syndrome (maybe?) (like the beginnings of it), but more so, emotional angst. So much angst. Please let me know if I missed anything though! Enjoy

From: Master Forgot about a meeting I have tonight. Be home late. Wait for me.

Khaled noted the time the message was sent, and compared it to how late at night/early in the morning it now was. He wondered if his master was out drinking, or whoring, or whatever it was he got up to when he’d stay out late on short notice. Not like it was his business anyway.

Khaled yawned, shaking out the numbness in his legs from his kneeling position next to the couch. He put away the plate of food on the table that had long gone cold by now. His own stomach gurgled with the need to eat something, but he dared not touch any of the food he carefully stowed away.

With the leftovers sorted out, there was nothing to do but put the dishes in the dishwasher and start the cycle. The kitchen, as well as the rest of the apartment, was spotless, since now he had nothing else to do but keep it clean. Khaled returned to his place on the bare living room floor, grabbing a blanket off the couch as an afterthought as he wrapped it around his nude frame. He was forbidden from wearing any clothes now, as the man who owned him was just a little too eager to see his ‘beautiful body,’ as he called it, and did not want anything obstructing its form. He’d watched in abject horror as all but a few changes of clothes were burned before his eyes and the rest had been locked in a safe. It had been a cold February ever since.

“I like you more like this,” his master had told him. “You’re far more cuddly like this, love, far more tactile.”

That’s another thing; Master was saying the word ‘love’ a lot more, averaging at least one “I love you Khaled” per day for the past two weeks. More than a little overwhelming, the frequency at which he’d expressed his affections seemed just this side of insincere. The three little words Khaled had craved for so many years now sounded so flat and fake, given everything else that had happened to him. How could anyone who isolates a man from his friends, from his job, from the world itself claim to love him? How was any of what he went through love?

What was more unbearable was when he was expected to say it back.

And he would say it back, a strained ‘I love you too’ that grated against his throat like swallowing broken glass. Yet, with a defeated resignation, Khaled realized it had gotten much easier to say, with enough repetition. If he said ‘I love you too, Master’ enough times, he may actually begin to believe it. It was only a matter of time until he would say it and mean it, if his enforced isolation continued much longer. Thomas Costa and Luca Bianchi were the only other human beings he had seen for two weeks now; he had no idea how he was strong enough to deal with this for more than a year when he was a child!

He positioned himself on his side, his sore back facing the door and his head facing the wide windows of the living room overlooking the city skyline. Outside it began to snow. The white, fluffy flakes were a vision of beauty flying against the heavy gray sky. Khaled’s eyelids drooped as he watched the snow fall in the greyish-white winter night. It was cold, yes, but beautiful, like him, he guessed.  His last conscious thoughts were wondering when his master would come home to him. Regardless of whether he loved him back or not, he was cold, so cold without him.

-

It was cold, so cold, on the dirty concrete floor. Not even the blood pouring out of his lacerated wounds could keep him warm anymore. Above him, Julio circled him like a vulture, taking a long drag of his cigarette before throwing it lit-end first at Thomas’ face. The beaten man was too far gone to even flinch.

Damn, is this how Khaled felt when I cut him? he deliriously wondered. With all that Julio and the Juicio Divino boys had done to him, he doubted he’d ever get the chance to ask.

Khaled. There are so many things Thomas now wished he did differently. He should’ve been kinder, more patient, should’ve protected him from the world, from his men -even from himself. Especially from himself.

“Khaled…” he moaned.

A blood-speckled Nike connected painfully with his side. “You dare call out to him, even now?!” Julio growled icily. He kicked Thomas again.

“Julio, just kill him already, for fuck’s sakes,” a voice shouted from the corner of the warehouse. The traitor –Nico- stood off to the side, icing his bashed-in face with some snow wrapped in shirt fabric. “You’re worse than a cat that plays with the mouse it caught!” he admonished. As furious and confused and disappointed as Thomas was about the Clemenza boy betraying him like this, the primal animal part of him was grateful that he was asking for mercy on his behalf.

Although he could no longer raise his head to see past Julio’s ankles, Thomas could feel the assassin roll his eyes above him as he cursed in Spanish. The next thing he knew, Julio was crouching down to his level. He tried to mentally prepare for whatever would happen next.

Julio sunk his fingers into his short, blood-soaked hair, wrenching his head back as he held up a now-very-familiar knife to Thomas’ throat. “Any last words, puto?”

So many last words.

So many things to apologize for.

So many words left unsaid. Not just to Khaled, but to Callahan, to Trémeaux, to Robinson, Kreuger, Martinez, Kościelsky, and of course to Tony. Young Tony, dear Tony, high as fuck at a church wedding Tony. His pain in the ass little brother and his only constant in his childhood, who never lived to see twenty-two years old.

Khaled and Tony were a lot alike in some ways. Smarter than they thought they were, yet looked up to him for no explicable reason. It was a shame Thomas never consciously noticed that similarity until now.

All this time, Thomas thought he bought Khaled as a form of penitence, to make up for killing that boy who was suspected of killing his brother. And while, yes, that was partially why he bought him, maybe he also bought Khaled as a way resurrect his brother. It had been so long since he’d seen warm brown eyes look up at him, he didn’t even know he missed it until he saw Khaled’s eyes that day.

“Forgive me…” he rasped.

Maybe it was the blood loss, maybe it was the certainty that this was the end, making him see things, but for a second, Thomas saw a crack in that frosty glare Julio bore down onto him. For a brief second, a painful mix of shock, anger, sadness, and even sympathy flashed within Julio’s golden eyes, before the glacial cold vengeance covered them in its frosty glare once again.

“See you in hell,” Julio murmured.

A sharp pain sliced its way into his jugular and down. (Who the hell slices down?!) As the pain dulled and his vision started to go, Thomas’ ebbing consciousness latched onto a memory, one of the fondest memories he had of Khaled.

He’d had an intense nightmare within the first month of buying his new slave, and instead of deriding him or prying for more details than he was owed, the boy had heated him a cup of milk, rubbed his back, and stayed up with him until he was ready to go to sleep again, just like how he and Tony used to comfort each other after a nightmare. As the last threads of his vision faded and the boss’ surroundings sunk into darkness, he swore he could still hear younger Khaled’s words that night, murmured shyly as he still had his accent.

“Sleep well, Master.”

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

[triple-pupil]

I know it's late for the day off trans visibility but hey, When is it not a good day for that?

‼️I am not trans, this is HIGHLY based on the experiences of @aka-baka-shiki's experiences and information as a trans man‼️

‼️Also PRE-TRANSITION DICE, if you don't like that‼️

Anyways-

✨King Dice And his journey post-top surgery✨

But first, lil' testoretone shots intermission.

"Everyone's so mean to me"

The initial t shots got him horny, REALLY horny. Bitch was looking forward for the shots with the doc because someone would be touching his ass.

"Hey handsome, ready for my t-shot ♥️"

It was bad.

And it left him with scars right above the ass because ig injections in old times leave scars.

Now to the post-op, a couple of years later.

"shit fuck fuck shit fuck shit shit fuck"

He couldn't feel shit, he lost sensitivity on his chest for a long couple of days, to the point of thinking he's never get sensitivity back.

He also wouldn't be able to raise his arms or move greatly for a couple of weeks to not fuck up the stitches and open the wounds. So he ended up incapacitated, spending most time in bed, with basic needs taken care of by nurses in the clinic or by servant demons at his hotel.

This sounds restricting but nice because of the constant assistance, but Dice's pride and need to be independant were CRUSHED because of this.

He needed help getting on and off bed...

... Dressing up and stripping...

... Eating...

...Going to the bathroom, bathing, etc.

"I wanna die"

This was the most he has lost control in recent memory, he felt so humilliated he'd recall it later on as hell on earth.

He was SO bitchy about strangers seeing him this weak and vulnerable that the Devil had to take on a few duties like bathing and eating.

More of Dice being a bitch:

"Just let the Imps bathe ya, damnit!"

"I AIN'T NO FUCKIN' BABY, BOSS!!"

"YER ACTIN' LIKE ONE!!!"

Can't add more pics, I'll make a second part soon.

[go-rocksquadsfan]

Nereids siblings posting part ??

[xtinyslip]

lcvenderhcze​:

“HUH. THE FUCK? WHAT IF I WAS NAKED OR SOME SHIT? WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE THEN, EH?” zeke mused, attempting to joke, because… yes, these days, it was what he did better. it was what he tried to do, in order to make things better. of course that it was and yes, zeke banks did often hide behind humor. of course that he did. it was… just about the only thing that he knew how to do. right? “and yeah, nah. come right in. you can sleep in the couch, it has your name on it. just kiddin’. of course that i’m going to be a gentleman and give you my bed. course.” he wanted to have her in here, because.. once he locked the door, he’d know that she was safe and yes, right now - that was all that it mattered. “jeez. my birthday or somethin’, ang?” he wondered, hoping that would get a smile out of her. a good one. @xtinyslip

“WHAT KIND OF A QUESTION IS THAT? you think i’m going to blush and turn away at the sight of you naked? please?” however, she couldn’t help herself but to smirk at his joke because she figured that’s all it was. they had been doing this a long time, she liked to think she knew him well enough by now. not that he knew all of her. did he? well, from their talk the other day... maybe he did now. what the fuck was she supposed to do with that? “you be a gentleman? shit, i must have worked into the wrong apartment.” she teased. “not here to kick you out of your bed zeke. i’m fine with the couch. i’ve slept on worse.” it was true and she wasn’t here to get in the way, not that she cared if she did or not. they had to do this together or it was never going to work. she knew that. “now you can ask me if it’s your birthday!” holding out the bottle of whiskey she had tucked under her arm to him. perhaps, getting drunk was a bad idea but it wasn’t as if they had any fucking good idea’s was it? besides, she needed to shut her brain off from thinking about this shit for more than two seconds. @lcvenderhcze

"NO QUESTIONS." not allowing him the chance to ask why she was even here because she felt like that much was obvious. no, she wasn't going to stand outside his apartment door and wait for an invitation. angie moved passed him, waiting till she was safely in his apartment before she rubbed her hands down her face. this whole thing was a mess. she had no idea what they were doing but that it felt like nothing. they couldn't keep this up. "... i didn't think it was a good idea that either of us are alone right now. do you?" turning to face him. "i brought burgers." it was better than nothing. "you need to eat." @lcvenderhcze

[mintraspberryst]

i want to die; i will be free. freedom in death

[hqbits]

i rlly need to make more ocs just for the hell of it. hate this guy