#you are right jac. it is whumptober.

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Have a heartless bastards AU draft

There's a path in the woods.

And at the end of that path, there is home.

Its windows, glowing with firelight, serve as a beacon in the cold night. Shuuichi, in his haste, trips over a root, hidden by the snow. Before he manages to get himself back up, some of the ice melts into the gaps of his gloves, his boots. The cool, wet stains leave him numb.

He has to hurry. Mother is waiting.

Shuuichi's more careful, now, keeping to the middle of the path. In barely any time at all, he's at the garden gate. This is bad. The numbness is spreading through his arms. His frigid fingers won't cooperate, can't hold onto the keys. They fall and sink into the icy shadows before the gate. It looms above him as he kneels down and tries to dig. He must have been at it for minutes, but they're nowhere to be found. Fear siezes his heart - it took years for mother to give him the keys, and now he's lost them, just like that.

She'll never forgive him.

Cold seeps in through his pants, bites into his skin. He's forced to give up his search, if he doesn't want to freeze to death. He drags himself up, bangs and screams against the impossibly tall door, but of course, in the storm, no one hears a thing.

He's all alone.

Shuuichi slams himself against the door, but still it won't budge.

There's one last option.

His father's hunting rifle has never failed him before. He slings it off his shoulder, lines up the shot, and pulls the trigger. The bullet pierces the lock, shatters it.

Shuuichi hugs the rifle to his chest, the warmth of its barrel comforting against his cheek, and slams himself against the door. This time it gives. He falls face-first into the snow on the other side, but there's no time to waste. He pushes himself off the ground, scurries up the stairs to the house, and breaks through the living room's glass doors.

Where did mother go? She was supposed to guide him.

As he crosses the threshhold, he's hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. He clutches his chest, all of it too achingly familiar. The Christmas tree, the fireplace. Shukichi's stocking hanging right in front of, illuminated by the fire's glow. The warmth it's radiating draws him in, like a moth to the flame. Fire and warmth and comfort and home.

He doesn't belong here, doesn't deserve this, not anymore.

The flames hiss at his rejection, singe his frostbitten skin, dry his eyes. A spark snaps onto his chest, sets his clothes ablaze like tinder. He's forced to stumble back, drop and roll to try and extinguish the flames that cook his flesh. Searing pain cuts through all thought, through the pleasant numbness that had kept it at bay before. He's left heaving, breath too short, his heart burning in his chest.

It hurts. Why won't it stop hurting?

No matter what he does, he can't seem to douse the flames. Shuuichi can't stay; the blaze is spreading through the room. Already, the tree is set alight in scintillating red.

Charred and blackened, embers lurking beneath his skin, he creeps across the floor, a trail of ash and dust dancing behind him.

The only way out is down. He just has to endure the heat for a little while longer...

With a deafening crack, the floor gives, the structural integrity damaged beyond salvation, and he falls, face first, into the basement.

Shuuichi blinks his eyes open.

"You're late", mother chides, but her smile is one of pride, still. She gently lifts his useless body, no longer able to move by itself, and puts it in a cushioned chair. The ritual circle carved into the stone flares a brilliant crimson.

"I got lost on the way."

She hugs him - he presumes, without the accompanying physical touch. The only sensation left in his body is the nuisance in his chest, pumpinh liquid fire in his veins.

"I'm sorry. You had to forge the path yourself, or the anchor would be worthless."

His head lolls, can't manage the nod.

"It's fine."

He does his best to smile, hopes mother sees and knows it's meant for her.

For just a moment, hesitation washes across her features.

"Are you certain you want to go through with the ritual? You won't be able to go back."

His heart burns in incandescent agony.

He'd do anything to make it stop.

"Yes."

She straightens, and before his eyes, his mother disappears. In her place stands Mary Sera, arch witch of Blackpool, a statue hewn from glass and steel.

"Akai Shuuichi, blood of my blood. In accordance with the edicts passed down to us by the progenitor, do you surrender your anchor to us, so it may become the instrument of your unbinding?"

Weakly, he nods.

"Yes. Yes. Yes."

Thrice it's said, and done.

The woman wearing his mother's face squats down in front of him, and pries the hunting rifle from his grip.

"No-", whispers a tiny, weak voice in the back of his mind. "That's father's rifle, I was supposed to give it back when he returns-"

But even if he wanted to, Shuuichi doesn't have the strength to resist. It's ripped away like a band-aid, leaving his skin too raw, too exposed. He shivers.

At the witch's word, the rifle starts glowing red, orange, white, and Shuuichi's world explodes in searing pain. This shouldn't be possible. He's gone through fire, but it didn't burn this deep within his bones, didn't melt who he was, who he could be, into a single focus of possibility.

The woman bends the rifle, agonizingly slowly, compresses it into a bar of metal, the wood burnt away. From it, she forges a blade. Each strike of her hammer reverberates through Shuuichi, shatters his bones, his mind, until there's nothing left but fire.

Blessed is the moment she drops the blade into ice water; the breath stops in Shuuichi's lungs as he's sumberged with it, a brilliant clarity of mind to stare at his impending death.

The witch is upon him momentarily, knife in hand. She kisses his forehead, cold radiating from her lips throughout his body. He freezes.

Then she plunges the blade into his chest.

It hurts just once, on the way in, overwhelmingly sharp and cold. She carves a circle in his chest, and as she goes, the link between his searing, beating heart, and the rest of him, is severed.

When the witch tugs, something gives within his chest.

A mess of blood and crystal, connected to his body by wet, red strands, pulsates weakly in her hand.

Ah. So that's the tumor that was causing all his pain.

With one last cut, the witch rends his heart from his chest.

Good riddance.

Sweet relief washes over Shuuichi, and he blacks out.

It's over.

.

When he comes to, his mother leads him through the basement to the family vault.

He has no use for his heart, would've liked to toss it away. But after that whole procedure, it still must be kept safe. How annoying.

Shuuichi places the heart in a bed of crushed ice, and slams the door of Pandora's box shut.

He's got a plane to catch.

[pieswhump]

Whumptober- Enemy to Caretaker

Warnings- Violence, gore (maybe?), blood, they dont directly mention it but they dance around the topic of sexual assault

Nico shook, collapsing to the ground the instant he was released from his bonds. He didn’t even try to run, but Reed came over and pulled his arms behind his back, reattaching the leather cuffs he had arrived in. He didn’t try to resist, despite his mind screaming to fight back. 

The past hour had been hell. Jac just took it silently, until Reed slapped him and demanded he make noise. It was unsettling, how still he was. Like a living statue.

Reed tousled Nico��s hair, and Nico growled. Reed’s neutral, almost sad expression transformed into a grin like a switch had been flipped. “You’re not broken after all! I was scared you were gonna break after just today, but you’re still kicking.” Nico glared. “I’m not a fucking toy.” Reed just smiled in a condescending way, not responding. He looked up at the camera. “Alright, so that was my birthday stream and Nico’s great debut! Have a wonderful day folks, and thanks for tuning in! Again, this is the Bourdell Family Stream, and I don’t need to tell you how to get onto here because if you’re here, you already figured it out.” Reed laughed, making a finger gun at the camera with a brilliant smile, and there was the click of the camera being shut off.

Reed visibly relaxed, and he left Nico sitting on the floor to go to Jac. He turned and looked at the guards, glaring. “I would like to take them to my room now. Clean up the blood.” Nico felt his heart beat faster and faster. To his room? That couldn’t mean anything good…

Reed picked up Jac with ease, bending down to pick up the chain connected to Nico’s cuffs. He walked out of the room, Nico stumbling. 

They went up the seemingly endless staircase until they arrived at what Nico had dubbed the halfway door. Reed pushed it open with his hip, Jac’s food hitting the door. Reed murmured a quiet apology, hardly more than a whisper.

The energy was much different… This felt unstable, like it could shake apart at any moment.

The trio arrived at a door that was painted black, matching the rest of the house’s decor. Reed gently shoved it open, bringing Jac and Nico inside.

The walls were white, a collection of photos pinned onto a white door. A closet, Nico assumed. There was a white desk, with a computer and empty coffee cups strewn about. There was a plush red rug, and a bed with a matching red comforter. There was a black bookshelf, half-filled with books Nico didn't recognize aside from A Wrinkle In Time.

Reed set Jac down on the bed, and he murmured something quietly. Jac nodded slightly, and Reed turned to Nico.

“Where… where is the pain worst?” Nico blinked. “Huh?” “Where is the pain worst? Has your bleeding stopped?”

 He growled. “Why do you care? You’re the one that did it to me!”

Reed sighed. “Please… just tell me. I understand if you don’t trust me, but you won’t get medical help otherwise.” Nico hesitated. “The carving… I think it’s still bleeding…” Reed nodded and took Nico’s right arm. He gently patted Nico’s shoulder, his blue shirt matted with blood. Nico winced, tensing. Reed quietly apologized, and he pushed the shirt up.

There was a bloody gash into the top of Nico’s shoulder. It wasn’t too deep to cut muscle or bone, but it was bleeding profusely. It hurt more than anything Nico could have ever imagined. 

Reed winced. “Sorry…” Nico glared, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were just doing your fucking job, don’t be sorry.” 

Reed sighed, leaving Nico standing there with blood dripping onto the carpet. He opened his closet door, grabbing a white box from the top shelf. He shut the door, moving back to Nico.

Nico narrowed his eyes. “Why should I trust you? You did this to me.” There was a quiet voice. “He’s… not so bad. And he’s the only one who will give you medical help…” Nico turned to look at Jac, who was shrunken in on himself and fidgeting. Nico growled. “Fucking fine. Whatever. I don’t trust you.” Reed nodded. “I don’t expect you to.” He opened the box, pulling out a roll of gauze. He gently wound it around his arm, the blood clinging to the gauze. He used the whole roll, Nico begrudgingly letting him help.

When he was done, he tied it off and let go. “Anything else?” Nico thought for a second, shaking his head. “Everything else is just bruising, I think… I don’t really know what the fuck you did to me. But I could use an advil.”

Reed nodded, and pulled one out of the first aid kit, handing it to Nico. He swallowed it dry, thanking him quietly. Reed turned to Jac. Jac shook his head. “I’m alright… You went easy on me tonight…” Reed half-smiled. “Yeah... I didn’t want to patch up the two of you, especially on Nico’s first day…” Reed sat in his chair. “So… um… I don’t want to do these things…”

Nico raised an eyebrow. 

“I… Jac was given to me for my eighteenth birthday, and I was expected to pick up the family business. The first stream I did… I puked my guts out for an hour, ashamed of what I had done. But I’ll be disowned if I say that I don’t want to do this… it’s a lose/lose situation… The only thing I can really do is take care of your wounds. I’m sorry.” Nico snarled. “I don’t care about your sob story.” “I know you don’t. But it matters to me that I tell you… You can sleep, if you’d like. You must be exhausted.” Nico fidgeted. “Fine. But only because there’s nothing else to fucking do.” Jac hesitated before jumping off the bed, going to Reed’s side. Reed smiled a little, holding his arms out for Jac. Jac hugged him and let go, looking at Nico. “I’ll stay awake… I can make sure he wouldn’t do anything, if you’re nervous about that.” Reed chimed in. “And I won’t. Scouts honor.” Nico snorted without realizing it, and Jac smiled a little. Nico sat on the bed, hesitating. “This is like… rich people shit. Is it okay that I’m on your bed?” “It’s the comfiest thing in this room, and you need to heal.” “You could just say yes, like damn.”

Reed smiled at Nico, and Nico returned the look with a glare. Nico went to take off his shoes before remembering that he was barefoot- his shoes had been taken once they started filming. Something about aesthetics. Nico laid down properly, and between the rapidly-dulling pain of his shoulder, and the exhaustion harbored in his brain, he slowly fell asleep.

[pieswhump]

Whumptober #3-

Warnings- food mention, but otherwise none, I think.

This piece is a direct sequel to my first whumptober piece.

Nico stayed in the office the whole day, with someone coming by to feed him around lunch. He wasn’t unchained, so he had to eat like a dog. He felt humiliated, his head pounding and his stomach churning.

He dozed all day, but properly fell asleep at around what he guessed was ten. He had no reliable way to tell time, relying on instinct. Thankfully, he was given a thin blanket. The man had left after his cryptic statement about Nico being a good present.

Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, he didn’t have to wonder long.

The next day, he was awoken by footsteps down the hall. Two sets. The footsteps continued until they reached his room, and Nico’s heartbeat picked up speed.

The two strangers opened the door, and Nico’s heart plummeted. It was the man from before, and a stranger. Nico memorized his appearance, too.

Pale skin, straight dark brown hair cut in that one rich people hairstyle, swept to the side. His ears were pierced. He looked younger than the other man, around his age. Nico figures they were father and son. He looked surprised, and Nico noted another family resemblance- the man’s son had bright red eyes. His were more like the color of strawberries, however. Interesting.

The man grinned. “Do you like him?” 

The son looked confused. “What’s this?”

Nico felt a spike of hatred for them both. Not who’s this, what’s this. Like he was simply an object.

The man continued. “Well, it’s your birthday today. You’re twenty-one, so I figured you deserved something new. A real challenge, not pre-broken ones.”

The son’s face lit up. “Really?! When did you get him?”

“Dane picked him up two nights ago. Happy birthday, Reed.” 

All at once, Nico realized what he had meant by present. He was to be his son’s… servant? He wasn’t sure, but regardless, it wasn’t something he wanted to be.

Reed smiled at his father, and bent down so he was level with Nico. He shied away slightly. “What’s your name, little one?”

Nico growled. “I’m twenty fucking years old. I’m not little.”

To Nico’s irritation, Reed laughed. “Fine. My question stands- what’s your name?”

He didn’t want to answer but… “Nico.”

“Well Nico, I have a feeling we’re going to get along swimmingly.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to hate your guts.”

Reed stood up and smiled at his dad. “I like him.”

His dad chuckled a little. “He’s a little skittish, but fierce. Afraid of physical contact but not of verbal confrontation.” 

Nico snarled, and Reed glanced at him. “Hush.”

He went silent, hating himself for it. But it was better to play along and try to get out of here than retaliate and die here.

Reed seemed to realize something. “Do you think he’ll play nice?”

His father thought for a second. “I don’t know. It could go either way- he could lash out, or be scared of him.”

Reed snorted. “He wouldn’t harm a fly.”

His father shrugged. “Maybe not, but your other one tends to be clingy from what I’ve heard. If he doesn’t like touch, he could become scared.”

Reed wrinkled his nose, muttering to himself. “I hate it when you’re right.”

His father laughed. “Well, want to get him ready? You’re live in about a half hour.”

Reed swore under his breath. “Do you have the key?”

He smirked, handing a small, silver key to Reed. He took it, unlocking the padlock that kept him chained to the ground.

Nico stood up, unsteady on his feet. He lurched forward, trying to bite at Reed.

Reed stepped back, his jovial smile hardening into a glare. "Well if you don't calm down, then you won't get unhooked and we'll be late."

Nico glared back. "Who fucking cares if we're late?"

"Well I do, for one. And so do my viewers." 

Reed rolled his eyes. “Stay still. Or today will be much worse.”

Nico didn’t know what to make of the threat, but he certainly didn’t like it. So, he stayed still, glaring at Reed.

Reed sighed, and unhooked the lock that kept the chain attached to his cuffs, then removed the chain. He relocked the cuff together, humming under his breath.

Nico didn’t move, despite his brain screaming at him to do something, to fight back. 

Reed smiled. “Good.” 

He took hold of Nico’s wrist, the touch sending jolts of electricity up Nico’s arm. Reed started leading Nico out the hallway, and Nico drank in the sights to escape later.

The hallway was wide, with the same flooring as the office. The walls were white. They passed by a large window, and Nico saw a large and well-manicured lawn with flower beds leading up to what he imagined was the door. Apparently, they were in a mansion.

Reed took a sharp turn down some steps, and Nico stumbled. Reed glanced back at him. “Be careful.”

Nico glared and ignored him. Reed sighed and turned back around, leading him downstairs. The lighting was getting progressively darker, and while Nico wouldn’t admit it, he was a little spooked. They passed by a door about halfway through, which Nico figured led to the first floor.

They got to the bottom of the staircase, where there was a large wooden door. Reed opened it, leading Nico inside.

Inside was a concrete room, with a small platform towards the back. On the platform was a chest containing things he didn’t want to know about. There was a camera and a computer on a table in front of it, the camera facing the platform. There were two other men, but they didn’t spare Nico a glance. On the platform was a kneeling boy, around twenty or so. Reed looked surprised to see him, leading Nico onto the platform. 

“Jac! What’re you doing here?”

The boy glanced up at Reed, doe-eyed. His eyes were bright green, almost startling. “Um… Mr. Raymond brought me down here. He said you couldn’t for today.”

Reed grinned. “Well apparently, I was getting a present. Jac, this is Nico!”

Nico glanced away, not sure how to respond.

Reed sighed. “Fine. Nico, knees.”

“What?”

Jac looked afraid, and Reed glared. He let go of Nico’s wrist, setting his hand on Nico’s head and shoving. He stumbled, landing on his knees. Nico winced, swearing under his breath.

Reed grinned. “Good.”

Nico felt hatred for this man course through his veins like blood. Reed glanced at the other two men. “We ready?”

One of them checked his watch, moving behind the camera, and nodded. He did a countdown from five on his hands, and Nico heard the undeniable sound of a camera whirring on.

Reed grinned. “Hello and welcome to the Bourdell family stream! As our more frequent viewers might be aware, today is my birthday, and my father has gotten me a wonderful present!”

Reed tousled Nico’s hair, grinning wider still as Nico glared at the camera with all of the vitriol he felt for Reed and his father. He was screwed.