After the medication, I really feel more peaceful, but the part that I so wanted to throw away returned, and that's fear, it didn't become so strong, but it always was and probably always will be

Memories, I've never been able to defend myself on my own. I remember a man who tried to turn as many people against me as possible so that they would hate me. I can't do anything about it, that's why I'm afraid, but I can't really understand what exactly I'm afraid of, I've always been afraid, since childhood, I've been told that I look scared and sad.

Here I come with the fic :D

Which is related with this drawing >:]

Tw: Safe/soft vore, freezing (kinda), slight fear

Whumpee’s ability to process their senses came back slowly, grudgingly. They were lying on the flat of their back. Somewhere. Their eyes moved beneath their eyelids and sound filtered back in. Steady beeping spurred them toward consciousness. Their fingertips began to move over the covers. Soft. Safe.

They swallowed and became aware of two things: Their mouth and throat were dry, and there was something in their nose. They knew they should be bothered by that, but they lacked the energy to act on it. A small, sleep-softened sound escaped them and their eyes opened a bit. Things were blurry and dimly lit. After blinking a few times - it may have taken moments or hours; Whumpee didn’t know - they studied the ceiling and wondered if they were going to float up to meet it.

“Hey,” came a soft voice.

Whumpee’s head rolled in that direction and they blinked heavily. Caretaker swam into focus as they approached the bed.

There was gentle fondness in Caretaker’s eyes as they smiled, but the lines of their face were strained and their hair was untidy. The difference in Caretaker scratched at Whumpee’s subconscious and the corners of their mouth tilted downward. They tried to speak, but the sound must have evaporated. They swallowed harder and their tongue stuck to the roof of their mouth. The cannula caught their attention again and their frown deepened. They moved their hand toward their face. Or at least they tried. Their hand made it to their navel before coming to rest there.

A twinge of emotion cut through the haze of drugs.

What’s wrong? Where am I? Where is everyone else?

“Whuh?” was all they managed.

“You’re in the hospital, Whumpee,” Caretaker said. “Everyone is fine. You’re going to be.”

Whumpee continued to stare up at Caretaker, dissatisfied and groggy.

“They said you'd be pretty out of it for a while,” Caretaker explained as they reached over the bed rail and patted Whumpee’s forearm. “Just try to rest, yeah?”

Whumpee nodded, or they thought they did. Everything seemed too close and too distant all at the same time. Their focus, such as it was, settled on the bed rails.

Caged like an animal.

The humor they found in the ridiculousness mingled with anxiety at the thought of being confined. Whumpee’s gaze lurched back up to Caretaker and they lifted their hand toward Caretaker, who held it in both of theirs.

“S’okay, Whumpee. I’m here,” Caretaker said, their voice calm and sure. “You’re good; just relax.”

Whumpee drew in a deep breath and felt the wonderful expansion of their lungs. They trusted in the sound of Caretaker’s voice and in the warmth of their hands.

Patton goes into the imagination-Roman’s realm-and ends up picking some mushrooms he finds. They’re colorful, unlike regular mushrooms, but Patton is sure they aren’t poisonous. Especially since nothing in the imagination can actually kill them. He takes them back and decides to make them into a soup. He lets it sizzle on the stove as he goes and checks up on something.

Logan happens to pass by during this time and smells the soup Patton is cooking. He heads into the kitchen, setting his book down on the counter and deciding to do a quick taste of the soup. He finds the soup quite good and goes for another taste when he starts to feel...funny. He sets the spoon down just in time for him to hunch over. Logan closes his eyes and doesn’t open them again until the feeling dies down. But when he opens his eyes, he finds that things around him have changed.

Everything is towering over him and it takes Logan a moment to process what had just happened. His logical brain is having a hard time believing that he is now shrunk down to what appeared to be around four or five inches tall. Logan is silently freaking out when the ground under him starts to shake. That kicks him into moving and Logan presses himself up against the wall, away from the middle of the floor. And just in time too as he turns to look, a socked foot is now where he once was.

Logan shivers at the bigness of everything and strains his head to look up. He can’t see past the underside of the person’s chin, but it was clear from the blue polo and gray hoodie wrapped around his shoulders that the person was Patton. Logan watched as Patton stirred the soup and took a spoonful. Logan’s eyes widened as he realized the same thing would happen to Patton if he ate the soup and so before he could fully realize what he was doing, Logan called out to Patton.

Patton paused, spoon of soup barely an inch away from his mouth. It fell away, back into the pot as Patton looked around questionably for the source of the noise. It had almost sounded like Logan, but the voice had sounded so quiet. Logan noticed Patton looking around for him and yelled again. This time, Patton looked down and his eyes locked with Logan’s. Both stared wide eyed in shock and Patton whispered Logan’s name as he knelt down in front of the shrunken side.

Logan wanted to run, to hide and get away from what his body assumed was a threat. But he stayed, knowing it was illogical to run from someone who would never hurt him. Of course, accidents were a thing, but he pushed those away. Patton knew when to be careful and despite everything Logan trusted the emotional trait. Patton is still in shock and Logan is the one who manages to say something first. “I wouldn’t eat the soup.” He says simply and Patton blinks and starts to actually freak out.

Logan calms Patton down and asks Patton what the soup was made of. Patton answers with mushrooms, from the imagination and Logan silently curses. Of course it was from the imagination. Logan suggests looking for Roman and getting this sorted out. The imagination was his realm after all. Patton nods and without thinking, reaches a hand out to grab Logan.

Logan lets out a yelp as Patton’s hand curls around him and lifts him up into the air as if he weighed nothing. Which he probably did at this size. He calls out, voice trembling with poorly hidden fear for Patton to stop and the hand freezes at Patton’s chest level. Who at this point was now standing. Patton realizes what he has done and opens his hand up, allowing Logan to sit freely in the palm of his hand. He apologizes, asking Logan if he is okay as he guides a finger towards Logan’s side. Logan flinches away and Patton stops. Logan composes himself and says he is fine and Patton goes with it even though he can tell that Logan is lying. But he goes to find Roman.

Roman is in his room, along with Virgil. Patton busts in, interrupting what seemed to be a private movie watching. Virgil is sitting at the foot of the bed, while Roman is laying on top, head at the end of the bed. Patton doesn’t even pay attention to what movie they are watching as he yells that they have a problem. Roman pauses the movie and both traits get up, sending a questioning look towards the father figure. Patton reveals Logan in his hand and the other’s eyes go wide. Logan finds himself shrinking away at their gazes and is very uncomfortable with being surrounded by three towering giants.

Virgil starts freaking out over the situation and Roman asks how this happened. Patton explains and when getting to the mushrooms, Roman asks for more details. When Patton gives them, Roman facepalms and explains that those are Alice in Wonderland esque mushrooms. Logan speaks up for the first time, asking if there is a cure and Roman says there is, but the mushrooms to grow Logan are much harder to find.