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Tw: Blood and injury, betrayal, death mention, character death, lady whump, dragon shape-shifter whumpee, grief, gore, broken bones.
Tags: @stab-the-son-of-a, and @befuddled-calico-whump
Mission Status: Failed.
The blunt words kept repeating in her mind, each one like a slap to Skyruin's face.
I'm sorry.
Her mentor was dead.
I tried.
It wasn't enough.
I'm so sorry.
As if anything she said would bring Nightdancer back.
She's gone. Dead and gone. You should know Kelsey. You burned her body.
It had all been for nothing. Sheโd succeeded in rescuing her captured mentor, only for her to die of her wounds within the hour, despite Skyruin's best efforts.
Half mad with grief, Skyruin had refused to let anyone take the older woman's body away from her, snapping and roaring and breathing fire at anyone who dared try. Including the few allies who had accompanied her.
Nightdancer had been like a mother to Skyruin.
They had all left, and only after hours of silence did Skyruin burn her mentors body. Perhaps it had been risky to wait with her so long, but it was forbidden to bring the body of a deceased hero back to the base, in case of trackers implanted somewhere.
But Skyruin couldn't bear to leave Nightdancer to rot. So she'd used her firebreath to cremate her, and then, she'd lain with the bones until long after they'd gone cold.
Only Madia had waited for her back at their former camp, silent and tearful when Skyruin had returned, hugging her when the shifter returned to her human form, whispering that she was sorry.
Tears burned in Skyruin's eyes, mixing with the rain that pelted her wings and seeped between her scales.
The look of agony on Nightdancer's face, which had remained even after death, was seared into her memory.
Growling low in her throat, the shifter dropped lower, golden eyes scanning the horizon. Madia had gone ahead, to break the news of Nightdancer's death.
The only sound in the pre-dawn twilight was the occasional crash of thunder, and the flapping or the dragon's wings.
The pain that exploded in the side of her chest came as a shock, and Skyruin shrieked as a line of burning agony tore down her flank. Her tail lashed, and she kicked out, her claws striking something, and she roared as the pain in her side worsened, before her claws sliced through the object, even as she failed in her desperate attempt to control her descent.
The stench of burning blood filled the air, and Skyruin wailed again as she plummeted towards the canyon floor, eyes locking on the figure behind the massive crossbow anchored on the ledge, previously obscured by the vegetation.
Madia.
Skyruin shrieked again, two kinds of pain echoing in the sound, even as she convulsed in agony, her tail swinging wildly, impacting with her former best-friend this time.
She let out a final shriek of agony as she crashed through the tree tops.
The dragon shuddered, reverting back into the shifter's human form as she fell.
The impact with the ground was accompanied by a shockwave of pain in her already wounded side, as the projectile was driven deeper into her flesh, and a sickening crack, as bone snapped like a toothpick.
That was the last thing Kelsey heard before she fell into a sea of darkness, which wasn't quite deep enough to escape the pain.
the โbad guysโ in hallmark movies end up always being the most respectful men ever.
because they will find out their girlfriend of 3 years (that they were about to propose to) went off to a random farm in minnesota, hours away from were the two of them built a life together, and she decided to justโฆ stay there without even consulting him.
and then he decides to take a trip to make sure sheโs okay, because this is generally alarming behavior, and then sees that she literally fell in love with her ex within one (1) week- and he wasnโt there, but you can TELL that theyโve made out a couple times.
and then she just strings him along for a few days, until fucking christmas eve, when she just breaks up with him and is like โi know we used to have the same values, but iโve never loved you. mark makes me happier than you ever did. and you ONLY care about work, whereas i like christmas and fun, like a Good Person.โ
and then, after finding out his entire relationship was a lie and he had his life turned upside down in a week and he got dumped on christmas, this guyโs just like โok yeah that makes sense. i only wish you the best of happiness with mark. i hope you guys build a great life together in christmastreefarmville. thank you for everything.โ
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Iโve had to block more pornbots in the last 48 hours than I have basically the entire rest of time Iโve spent on Tumblr.
Have they become hungrier or less discerning or what?ย
Iโm pretty sure theyโre pornbots, at least. If theyโre twitter refugees still filtering into tumblr then they clearly havenโt taken ANY welcome-to-tumblr advice because itโs all empty blogs with generic underwear/swimsuit model looking headers.
theyโre getting more aware of what it takes to look somewhat more likely to be a real person, but itโs still transparent theyโre bots fishing for clickthrough. every single one iโve blocked has a link for a blog description bragging about their top OF percentile. they only have two posts at most, and most are empty. they actually have been going to the trouble of making their header, avatar, and any posts they make be pictures of the same person for the first time i have ever noticed
honestly, if they didnโt all uniformly have a link in their desc that says it goes to an OF page, it would be very difficult to tell
Anyway, Iโm going to take a moment to remind folks that we need to report porn bots as SPAM.
Especially with the return of the tit this year, the primary issue has never been the adult content: itโs that these accounts are fake spam. Iโve already been overjoyed and delighted to see SWers returning to Tumblrโreal ones, not these mimic weirdos with fake links. Reporting the blog of a porn bot as adult only blurs the avatar and hides the account from searches, but the blog continues to exist and can still be reblogged from if bots are going through the notes on posts. Reporting as spam can fully get the account removed.
a tiktok of a blond white woman with a southern american accent speaking to the camera. the video is subtitled.
โI was listening to my son do his math homework at the kitchen table and then all of a sudden he said โ3 + 6 the son of a bitch is 9!โ and then he said โ2 + 5 the son of a bitch is 7!โ
I said โwhat are you saying? What are you saying?โ
he said โbut my teacher, she showed us how to do Math and thatโs what she saidโฆโ
I said just to make sure I was right. OK go onโฆ
He said โ2 + 2 the son of a bitch is 4!โ
I said OK. So I left the room and I called the teacher.โ
[holds up hand to ear] โI said โHello, are you teaching our children Math saying โ2 + 2 the son of a bitch is 4?โ
It got real quiet, and then she started laughingโฆ
She said โMa'am what I said was "2 + 2, the *sum of which* is 4โ.
[pauses, covers face with hand] โI gotta bake that lady a cakeโฆ maybe buy her some apples.โ
I wish people would stop sayingย โItโs July. Well done for wasting half a year.โ Did you make someone smile in the past six months? Did you stroke a cat or throw a stick for a dog? Did you learn a new fact or teach someone a new joke? Did you laugh, cry, scream or sing in the past six months? Because if so, congratulations for not wasting your time at all.
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CW: Whumpee thinks Caretaker is new whumper/master, Vampire Caretaker, Reference to vampire whumper/previous abuse/captivity, Bloodbag Whumpee, Recovery/Rescue, Nightmare (drug induced), Panic attack, Talks of death/hopes of death, Denial, Paranoia, Drugs/Medication, Noncon drugging(?) Loss of speech, loss of autonomy
How do you plead for your life with pen and paper? Would the fear, desperation and agony translate to the ink? The question wracks Declanโs brain, pounding against his aching skull as he clutches onto his pen like itโs his last lifeline.
It might be.
A shaking, yet stern death grip nearly crushes the plastic. Countless balls of paper are scrunched up and strewn across the room, and the notebook sitting on his lap is drowning in countless scribbles, all scratches of words that he determined were not enough to save his life. Splotches of ink once begging for home, or even a scrap of mercy; now blurred. Splattered with his tears.ย
The vampire thinks heโs fast asleep. Resting, recuperating - whatever the hell it is he should be doing. But Declanโs night is Augustโs day. The terror keeps Declan wide awake, knowing that the creature is stalking the halls, waiting for the right moment to strike when Declan lets his guard down to sleep, at his most vulnerable. Why else would he have taken Declan in?
Heโs scoured the room already; thereโs nothing to whittle or fashion into a makeshift stake. There is no protection. Because August has thought everything through, of course. No weapons, no defence nor even privacy or dignity.
Heโs a prisoner again and nothing more, he reminds himself. He wonโt be fooled by the simplicity of a blanket or hot meals, even if the feeling of fullness in his belly feels like an impossible blessing he knows heโs not worthy of. His purpose is to be a blood-bag. Food. Itโs nothing short of cruel and barbaric to trick him into thinking that anything more than anguish lies on his horizon. Freedom is a privilege not for the likes of him. Heโd squandered his, took it for granted.ย
The vampires had won. Theyโve broken him down into nothing. The leeches have taken everything from him, and even with nothing left to give, they still want more. They canโt suck him dry of his blood, so theyโll drain his life away. He misses when he didnโt know the difference.ย
Please - Declan writes down for the millionth time. Itโs a good start. Itโs just whether he pleads for mercy, or maybe for direction and orders? Just so he can know what his new master actually wants from him. It feels like heโs back at square one all over again. Stumbling in the dark, so terrified of the unknown and not knowing what to expect, how to behave and stay out of trouble. He knows now. It took everything from him, but he knows how to be good now and he just wants to show August how well behaved he can be. He wonโt fight back, just so long as August tells him what to do. Heโll listen.ย
He could write โplease let me goโ and leave it up to Augustโs interpretation, whether letting him go means returning him home orโฆto finally be put to rest. If August truly wants to be merciful, and follow through with his promises of no more pain; heโd put him out of his misery. It would be a kindness.
The jarring creak of the door snaps Declan out of his thoughts;ย he yelps and stuffs the notepad quickly under his blanket. He is quick to hide the damning evidence that will no doubt land him his first punishment from his master. He canโt lose the little comfort Sir is allowing him right now. Not yet.
โOh. Iโm sorry. I thought youโd be asleep,โ August mumbles, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as his eyes dart all over the room to avoid eye contact.ย
Declan presses his back flat against the headboard of the bed, his spine forced pencil straight, cowering under his blanket, glancing over the top. His eyes stay peeled on August, pupils blown wide with fright. Like a scared puppy in the pound, cornered by the dog warden. Heโs sure August was hoping he was asleep. Itโs easier to take advantage of a blood bag when they arenโt ready for you. Declan knows. He knows all too well.
โI was just going to-" August trails off, pointing to Declanโs bedside, sheepishly scuttling over to turn up the drip. The look of panic in Declanโs eyes instantly glazes over into a foggy, far-away look. A wave of ecstasy crashes over him. Pain melting away that he didn't even notice was there, he'd long grown accustomed to it.
"There. That should be more comfortable. I hope."
Declanโs eyes roll back into his skull, eyelids fluttering shut as he lets out a low and throaty groan, slouching back into the bed. Even the panic seems to be shoved down deep in his mind, even if he doesnโt want it to. He just lets the sleep come for him, no energy to push back, and steal him under.ย
Only then does August notice the dozens of balls of paper littered around the room and Declan's notepad sticking up in a jagged shape underneath his blanket. August rifles through the sheets to pull it out.
โWhat?โ August gasps to himself, flicking his thumb through page after page of just black ink blocks.
He can't make out much. It's all scribbled out. But he can make out a few words lurking underneath the abyss of swirls.
A few โpleaseโโs are hidden in there, a โhomeโ dotted here and there. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what the intention of the letter was. A letter crying out for mercy. Declan still can't quite comprehend, or even trust that he's in good hands. That just maybe the hell heโs endured is truly behind him and he can look forward, without having to look over his shoulder.ย
August can feel his heart drop in his chest. He can feel the terror radiating from the pages, and itโs devastating to think of what must have been running through Declanโs mind in the moments when he tried to write those letters.ย
They can't keep going like this, round in circles with this breakdown of communication. How can August ever get through to Declan if the boy can't even voice his worries and wants? Thereโs no way for August to guide him.ย
It doesnโt matter. August will figure it out. Tomorrow, he will begin the journey to help Declan recover his voice.ย
*!*!*!*!*!*
โD-Declan? Oh, my babyโฆ Iโm here. Sweetheart, itโs going to be okay-โ
Mom?ย
The tears already spill down his cheeks before his eyes can flutter open. The world stands still around them. In this moment, thereโs just him and her. Nothing else exists. No horrors lived through, and no monsters hiding under the bed.
Sheโs here. Sheโs really here. She doesnโt look a day older than the last time he saw her, God knows how many years ago now. Same outfit too. The scratchy wool sweater he bought her for her birthday one year, beige with bunnies on it.ย
His jaw stutters open, a strangled rasp making its way out instead of all the words he wishes he could say to her. How much heโs missed her, thought of her every single day that he could think, loved her with every fibre of his being when all his world was consumed with hate.
All he can do is weep, stretching his arms and reaching out for her, grabbing at the air with his hands. She darenโt wait a second longer, sprinting towards him and pulling him up into a crushing embrace, wrapping her arms so tight and burying her nose into his ruffled hair. Who knows if sheโll ever let go again?
She smells the same too. She smells like home.ย
After all these days of August swearing safety and freedom, all those lies heโs been fed, this is it. This is the first time heโs felt he can accept that heโs safe. Now that sheโs found him, everything will be okay.
Declan squeezes tighter, tighter than ever before. He nuzzles in towards her belly and lets his eyes slip shut. Itโs time to finally go home.ย
Then, a dark chortle rumbles above him. The sweet smell of perfume diffuses in the air, and a musty smell swims up Declanโs nostrils instead. The room feels stale, like all the light has been extinguished and the air has been sucked out of it. Or maybe itโs his own lungs; all he knows is that he canโt breathe all of a sudden. The terror grips his throat again. The arms around him crush against him, and sharp nails dig into his back.ย
โAw. Needy little blood bag, arenโt we, Deccy?โ
Vince.
Where didย his mother go? She was just here in his arms. The world was right again, and now itโs been flipped upside down. The dark snuffs out the light, and loving touch is replaced with pain.ย
In the entire time Declan lay dormant, his eyes saw a thousand horrors that his mind wasnโt awake to comprehend. Now, heโs awake. Now, he can understand and feel the fear. How can that be fair? That living as a zombie, not quite here but not quite gone, is somehow miraculously better than the alternative?ย
Life. Life that he fought tooth and nail for. But he lost himself in the fight. And now Vince has come back to drag his sorry ass back down to that vile basement, to reclaim whatโs rightfully his. It doesnโt matter how many times Declan tries to remind himself that he doesnโt belong to anyone; Vince is always there to remind him of his place.ย
Declan screeches, trying in vain to untangle his limbs from the demon who tore his life to shreds. He thumps his fists against Vinceโs chest to get out of his grip. It doesnโt matter. Vince holds him easily. Finally, With all the strength he can muster, Declan shoves Vince out of his arms, pushing him away from the bed as he goes stumbling backwards.
But itโs not Vince who staggers away from him.ย
August nearly trips backwards over his own feet and stares back at Declan in astonishment, hurt painted across his face. Augustโs eyes are full of betrayal and concern, and Declan canโt wipe the confusion from his face. None of this makes any sense. He heard Vince, he saw him, he felt him.
โIโm so sorry. Did I spook you? I didnโt mean to. Youโre okay, no-oneโs going to hurt you!โ August stresses, holding his palms out before him as if to demonstrate his innocence.ย
Declan's head is about to implode. He can't begin to fathom what's unravelling before his very eyes. Curling into himself, he wails, mourning the loss of home all over again. The universe won't grant him an uninterrupted moment of silence, not without fear.
If he could, heโd go back and talk to himself; go and speak wisdom to the poor old Declan curled up and sobbing himself to sleep on his mattress and tell him itโs okay. To stop fighting. Because what was he fighting for?
He thought he was fighting for life. But what kind of life is this suffering? Is pain and terror? Deception at every turn.
Strangely enough, Declan recalls hearing a voice telling him that. That it was okay, everything would be okay. To let himself fall, because Vinceโs words would be there to catch him. The burden of thought and choice, the risk of messing up would be taken away. Heโd be the perfect vessel and blood bag.
At the time, Declan thought it was Vinceโs persuasion luring him into giving over that final bit of control. Sweet tempting words to let him slip away,
Now, he wonders if it was him. If it was that final bit of him left suffocating under Vinceโs power, laying down the sword. Giving up the fight. Telling Declan that they lost, but thatโs okay. The sweet surrender of sleep was coming.ย
Whatever was coming for him, was okay. It would be better.
It would have been. If it wasnโt for August. The saviour thatโs condemned himโฆ
*!*!*!*!*
Declan jumps awake in his bed, springing to sit upright, a scream tearing its way out of his dry throat, drenched in cold sweats through to the sheets. He pats his cheeks, feeling the dampness of tears latch to his fingertips.
It wasn't real.
No-one is there. A sliver of moonlight spotlights the space where August was standing moments ago. No, not August, Not Vinceโฆ or Mom. She was never here, they're still worlds apart. And it's like a knife to the heart, losing her all over again.ย
He's living to suffer, despite the words his captors try to delude him with. Alive under August's wish only, to feed from and toy with. It doesnโt matter that August hasnโt used him yet. He will. Declan knows it. Itโs August who is responsible for this; he caused that vile nightmare. August had drugged him in the middle of the night.ย
The blood pounds in Declanโs ears, his heartbeat thumping rabbit fast in his chest. Panic beats him to a pulp, and he chokes on his own wet sobs as he desperately gasps to catch his breath. He rocks back and forth in his bed, slamming his palm over his mouth to trap in the cries.
Footsteps thunder down the hallway, and Declanโs ears prick up at the sound of sprinting at lightning pace as August and Lucas burst into the room. They both look terrified.ย They must haveย heard the blood-curdling scream echo through the house, and come running that very second. To subdue him again, Declan is sure.
"Declan! Everything okay in here-?"
Declan doesn't respond, he can't - he's too busy crying himself into hysterics, hyperventilating for breath. His eyes so wild, bloodshot red that they nearly matched those of the monster gawking at him in shock.
โWhatโs wrong? What happened?!โ August gasps, rushing to one side of Declan's bed, Lucas the other. Declan cries out again, rolling away from August and reaching out for Lucas for protection, grabbing onto his t-shirt and burrowing his face to hide away. He must look so pathetic right now.ย But Lucas is the one thing he's got left thatโs closest to humanity in this place. An ally, someone he can rely on.
โC-CaโฆCanโt-โ Declan pants, sucking in desperate breaths as nausea twists in his gut.ย
He canโt do it. He canโt cope anymore. He canโt be here, he canโt be food, or a plaything. Whatever heโs done in his life to deserve this, heโs so fucking sorry. But surely itโs time served by now, there has to be a point where heโs suffered enough. He deserves to go home and be free like the vampire keeps promising him he can. Why give him false hope? So he can revel in watching it be crushed again?
Lucas kneels down to Declanโs level, shooting him a solemn look. He slowly reaches for Declanโs trembling hand and places it flat on his chest, โDo what I do, yeah? Match my breathing. Slowly now, in and out.โ
Declan feels his hand puff out with Lucasโ chest, following his exaggerated breaths. He focuses solely on matching, keeping in timeโhe does know how to do what heโs told, after all. He keeps inhaling through the noseโฆdeep breathโฆback out again through the mouth. His eyes stay trained on Lucasโ, and they breathe together until Declanโs back in the rhythm and the staccato gasps for air are no more.
โThere we go. Youโve got this. Itโs going to be okay,โ Lucas consoles, beaming a smile at him. Deep down, Declan feels like he may be able to spare a pinch of trust in him.ย
โI think you just had a bad dream. Youโre safe, Declan," August chimes in. He sounds as though heโs trying to comfort, and even if Declan doesnโt believe him, he tries his best to not to scream at the top of his lungs to stop lying, no matter how badly he wants to. It doesnโt matter anyway. August probably knows exactly what heโs thinking. They always do.ย
"Can you say it back to me? Youโre safe.โ
Declan presses his lips together. Not a chance. He's not falling for it, not playing along with the sick mind games. That is, of course, until Lucas nods encouragingly at him, a reassuring smile begging him to at least try. Maybe if they hear it, hear him try, theyโll leave him alone.ย
โS-...s-sa-โ Declan stammers and stutters, his voice barely rising above a whisper. The entire time, his brain is begging him to not believe his own words.
When was the last time he truly felt safe?
โ-fe. S-sa..feโย
Who is safe anymore? Where is safe? What does that word even mean anymore? He thought maybe Lucas was safeโฆ and he seems it. But maybe he's just as bad, he's complicit. Declan pulls his hand away from Lucas and holds it close to him. Itโs a fool's game to trust.
โS-Sa..fe.โ
Heโll never be safe again.ย
Declan bursts into tears, shaking his head furiously and snatching his notepad from the bedside stand. August stops and takes a step back to give him space. Declan feels Augustโs eyes as he writes.ย
L I E S
August crumbles to his knees at the sight of the words. Declan doesnโt understand. If heโs angry, why doesnโt he just hurt Declan like Vince always did? Why go through the motions of pretending to care? Itโs not as if it makes a difference. Declan is Augustโs to use, no matter what.ย ย
"Declan, please believe me. It's not a lie."
LET ME GO
"I will. I promise I'm not - I'm not keeping you here. Youโre not a prisoner. No harm will ever come to you. You just need to heal, then we can look at getting you home. I canโt send you back like this - a shell of yourself."
The mask slips, August has finally dropped the ball. Just like Declan knew he would eventually. Heโs being sent back to Vince. Patched up and shipped back. He just canโt believe August can dare refer to it as โhomeโ. He was right all along, he knew August was tricking him. It doesnโt make it hurt any less, knowing that when heโs recovered and healthy, August will hand him back over to Vince so he can be broken all over again.ย
Itโs not fair that he woke up. Itโs not. Heโs been through hell and back. What is the fucking point if heโs only being made strong enough so that they can drain him all over again? They had no right to wake him up. They had no right to continue his suffering. Who gave August the right to play god?
-
Special thank you to @whumpcereal for the amazing beta on this for me! <3 and to @darkthingshappen and @sparrowsage for cheering me on when I was struggling!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
โ Live Streamingโ Interactive Chatโ Private Showsโ HD Qualityโ Free Actions
Free to watch โข No registration required โข HD streaming
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